Unknown Pleasures – Part 3

“People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton

The beastings began again, immediately after we set foot off of the bus. Mushed up the road, to a meeting spot, and a brief run-down of the next tasks given to us.

We were met with an air of seriousness, and words about safety. Our next task was to be postponed: if they ran it now, people’s lives would be in danger. We’d be doing it later, as they didn’t want to kill anyone: too much paperwork. Vague details, but enough to cause concern.

False information had been rife the whole weekend (the night before a “marathon” sandbag carry turned out to be 2km). But the doubt remained: maybe it was the truth. Maybe we did have something horrendous ahead of us. That remnant of worry stuck, lingering like a knot in my gut. No matter what we did that day, it lingered.

The challenges came and went: lots of team-based activities to teach us to work with each other, to pull our weight, and not hide in the mass of green overalls. Again, this strengthened the group for the final onslaught to come. Still, the anxiety remained.

Lots of heavy carries: stretchers and logs; up and down the fells and over moorland. Still worrying about what was yet to come. I could feel my back starting to strain. They were pushing us ever closer to that limit that would see people snap.

And plenty of people snapped. The Numbers kept dwindling, on an ever downward spiral. Some veterans throwing in the towel in a rage: lowering morale further, making us question why we were still here, still enduring, still surviving. But again, in the Unknown nothing should be taken at face value.

Crawling through ditches (one containing a dead sheep), hundreds of burpees, carrying buckets of water, more logs, more stretcher carries, running up and down the fells. Worrying.

The sun was out, keeping things in a somewhat positive mood, as we negotiated the day’s challenges.

Tied by the wrist to a fellow Number: a team navigation and memory challenge, tired brains making things harder. Myself and #214 made a good pair: we finished quickly, but were caught out by a trick question. We opted to take a penalty in exchange for 45 minutes to eat something and relax.

We realised this was valuable time: no worries of barking orders, flashbangs, or surprises. Just food, rest, and fearing what was still to come. Fatigue – both mental and physical – building massively now. We knew we had to keep something in reserve for the rest of the event. Food helped morale, and we sat and discussed if we really believed the dangerous task which was still outstanding. But we’d soon find out.

We regrouped, even fewer of us as more people dropped. “The challenge”, we were told, would now go ahead.

Fear building. More information. Our heavy cotton overalls were to come off for the first time. Take a sandbag for our heads. No talking once at the meeting spot. The ambulance and medical team tailed us as we trudged down the hill: again the first time they’d done this. Once we were led to the spot, we had ten seconds to complete it. And do exactly as we were told. Otherwise we’d be putting our lives, and those of others, at risk.

The damp hessian bag went back on. Relegated to darkness once again. Feeling vulnerable.

Literally blind, we just had to trust the organisers with our safety: the popping sound of the dislocated foot replaying over and over again in my head. Should I trust them?

Tension continued to build, and I really considered calling it a day. I was here to challenge myself, not kill myself. And I wasn’t the only one thinking this. Another number and I shared some whispers. We both had the same thought: it sounded beyond sketchy, and was it worth it?

Total silence. We could hear the rustle of people being taken, one at a time.

A scream.

A splash.

Trying to listen out for clues. Water? A jump? Blind? How high? No idea.

A pair of arms grabbed me. Pulled me to my feet. I could feel my heart starting to pound. Led gently down a slope. Left to wait. Voices. Another splash. This time louder.

It was my turn.

I was led further, then stopped by more arms. The instructions reiterated: ten seconds to complete the challenge. And with that, the bag was ripped from my head. An instant of blinding light. Then seeing that my toes were at the very edge of a drop. A cliff.

My reaction was no. Fuck this. Heights are not my thing. Neither is jumping from them. But I couldn’t say the words. I looked around. Two faces, steely eyed, no sympathy, looking back. I just had to go. A huge stream of thoughts flashed through my mind: everything I’d done to get to this point. How annoyed I’d be after. Quitting because of something this mundane. The dead sheep. Rolling in the sand. Rolling in the sea. The screams, the abuse, the beastings. And not jumping?

I took a leap. Falling.

It felt like an age. The water eventually greeting me. Sinking. Pushing up with my legs, wanting to surface. Wanting air. Up I went.

In normal circumstances, it’s not a particularly intimidating task. But 6 hours of goading, sensory deprivation, and a psychological build-up makes the brain succumb to fear. But the challenge was over. A moment of pride as I swam to the banks, and clambered out. It felt like a big achievement. I was still in. Still surviving. A human cockroach.

Back to the moor. Meeting the other numbers. Excited chatter as we traded stories, our feelings, our nervousness. All feeling proud, all proud of each other. The bond was growing. But it was time to delve deeper into the Unknown. We were moving location again. Back down the road, back to the bus. Bags back on our heads.

The sun was starting to fade. Night almost upon us. I always knew that the final night would be the most difficult part of the event. At our weakest, no sleep and 24hrs of brutality to wear us down. There would be no mercy.

But make it through the night, and completion was within touching distance. So near, but so far. Already half of us had tapped out. How many would make it to sunrise?

It was time for the final night of horrors.

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Cover Image: Mudstacle