Tuesday, June 13, 2017

2017 No Sleep Adventure 24 & 8-Hour Race by Scott Shaw

2017 No Sleep Adventure 24 & 8-Hour Race by Scott Shaw

I wasn’t planning on competing in the No Sleep race.  Frankly, the last couple years I have fell into a slump and haven’t wanted to race much.  I heard that TeamBOR was fielding a 2 person coed with Dave Beattie and Jessie Brown and a 4 person coed with David Cortivo, Robert Bart, Amy Crews, and Steve Fuller.  I asked my daughter if she wanted to sign up for the 8 hour and she told me no.  I am still hoping my daughters will race someday, but anyway my hopes of racing were dashed until I saw a post that Amy needed to drop out.  I quickly said I wanted in.  Next I heard that Steve needed to drop out and we gathered up Alane Wolins.
SKETCHY VIDEO GAMING
TEAM BOR LOST SOULS

 I somehow bullied my way into being navigator, or I had pulled the shortest straw unknowingly.  We left St. Louis around 1pm and drove to Shawnee National Forest and incorrectly set up camp (the biggest damn tent vacation home ever) at the race start.
VACATION HOME OF THE GODS

We ate dinner and attended the pre-race meeting.  I always find the meetings long winded and I really just want the map so we can get back early to plot and sleep, but it never seems to go like that.
PROPER RESPONSE TO TEAM NOAH SITTING BY YOU
TEAM KUAT
I started to think sleeping was going to be shortened especially once I heard there was ropes practice at the start until 11pm.  There was supposed to be a full moon, and I don’t sleep well in the light, but luckily our massive tent blocked the moon and all was dark.  Since we had slept at the start we allowed ourselves to sleep until 6am, but other teams woke up earlier for the bike drop.  I am a pretty light sleeper, so I was really happy that I actually fell asleep again.  We slowly got up at 6, dressed, ate, dropped the bikes off, and had plenty of time before the 8am race start.  I love being early and not rushing!

The race started by having everyone remove a shoe and the volunteers threw our shoes out into the field.  We had to run, find our shoe, get it back on and run to the canoes.  We then carried our canoes to the water and launched.  Friday night we had planned to go either clockwise or counter-clockwise around the lake depending on wind direction, but since at race start they told us we had to cross the lake to the swimming beach, beach the boat, and pick one person to swim to the platform to get our passport, we threw that plan out the window.  We hadn’t picked a person to get wet as we were told the night before, because we really didn’t know what to expect, so as we hit the beach I decided to just go for it.  I dropped the map, compass, and my hat, and hit the water.  I ran first, then walked to the first set of buoys.  After that I had to swim to the platform.  I first noticed that I had my sunglasses on and couldn’t put my face in the water.  I then noticed that my shoes were sinking my legs, but luckily they made us wear life jackets.  I climbed the platform, grabbed the passport, and zipped it up in my pocket against the director’s instructions to put it in my mouth.  I jumped back in and thought, “Why the hell isn’t Robert doing this, he is the swimmer?”  I swam and rolled on my back to kick my shoes off, but then decided it was really important to keep my shoes, so I rolled back over and swam back to the first set of buoys and walked in exhausted.
DROWNED RAT
We then paddled to CP3, then to 2, then across the lake to 4, then to a lily pad stricken area of CP1 where we had to wade through stinky muck that was sometimes neck deep.  We damn near lost Cortivo to a lily pad hole, but luckily the swamp gases being violently expelled lifted him back to the surface, or he was so scared he farted so hard he lifted himself.  Either way I got a nose full of foul odor and a mouth full of bugs and Cortivo lived to tell the tale, which you all will definitely hear, but his version will be much much better than mine.  It will probably have swamp monsters and aliens in it.

We then canoed back to the start, which was the TA, dropped the canoe and switched to trek.  We thought we had a solid plan to CP5, but after taking the trail to the first gate, we failed to find the second gate mainly because we followed the herd.  I said we are going the wrong way a few times, and then said we overshot a few times, while we walked a creek forever, but Dave wanted to keep following and told me a few times it was,  “just around the bend, just one more bend, just one more bend, just one more bend.” I had no idea where we were anymore because the map didn’t match the topography at all.  I told Dave we had to go back to the gate and shoot a bearing.  We walked back up stream and I looked for a side stream we had investigated earlier.  Not finding the side stream I felt doomed that we were so far off we were going to get lost.  Dave said he could take me to the gate.  Walking back to the gate I was very skeptical and told him if he was 100% sure I would trust him, but I thought he was guessing.  He pointed out the gate way down the field and I still wanted to go back to it and see if the road we took in was there, but I trusted him and we shot a bearing and went back to the creek.  I noticed we walked off bearing and called “bullshit,” but when we compared all three compasses it seemed one out of three was always swinging.  We chalked it up to iron in the soil and aliens (Klingons on Uranus aliens).  We walked into the creek and I really felt it was the wrong way again, so I stopped us and asked both Robert and Dave to compare the map to the land topography and we all agreed to turn around and found it.  We lost around an hour looking for it, but I needed it to shoot to CP6.

I gave Alane a very quick pace counting tutorial and read the bearing to Dave and Robert.  We followed three compasses and every time one person veered off we followed the two that agreed.  Alane counted and I estimated the distance and kept track of meters traveled with my ranger beads (I said RANGER BEADS!).  We found CP6 exactly as expected and very quickly after crossing a few barb wire fences.  We also found Team Noah and hugged and humped some.  Alane re-set and I had her count down the reentrant to the creek and again we were spot on where I wanted to be.  I had her re-set again and we traveled by creek in the direction of CP7, but she gave me a count that passed the CP and I had only moved one bead so I knew somehow her count got off.  Just in case we back tracked and checked for it.  I re-estimated and had her start over and we found it almost perfectly again.  Dave and Robert had a nice break from following the bearings and I know personally that counting gets tiring, but I wanted her to count to CP8.  We followed the trail and found the CP exactly on her count.  Team Noah cheated and followed us most the way, but I tricked them with a sneak attack “orange Gatorade” that was actually Fireball!  Kevin and Mickey smelled a trap, but didn’t warn poor Larry and he fell victim to my sinister plot.  They past us, but we heard later that the Fireball slowed and angered Chief Larry Firewater.  On the other hand, our team work of me reading the map, giving a bearing, and an estimated distance, Dave and Robert keeping the bearing, and Alane counting, really paid off.  There is a few things we could do to even get better at this, but that is some secret shit we are not gonna tell you freaks.  We then traveled to the bike TA watching Team Noah and some other 24 hour teams lolly gagging along like they had all the time in the world.

On the bikes my legs were a little grumpy at first and we slowly made it to a “road,” I use that term loosely, that took us right to CP9.  When we got back to the real road to go to CP10 we met up with a trio of beautiful young Sirens that missed CP9, but they tricked Dave into revealing its location.  I stopped us where I thought CP10 was, but quickly changed my mind and wanted to go down the road farther, but Robert had traveled at least 10 miles down the reentrant looking for it.  The Sirens caught us and realized it was farther down the road and left us.  Robert traveled at least 20 miles back to the road and we caught the Sirens as they were leaving the CP and they were nice enough to return the favor and reveal its location.  We started climbing hills and Dave needed a little tow, so he attached his bike to my tow and I stood and climbed past the Sirens walking their what appeared to be straight out of Walmart bikes (NO OFFENSE). We then had to find a point in the road where it turned sharply, which marked the point that we would bike whack to the trail, but when we got there the whacking looked too long and hard (no pun intended).  We decided to find the secret road to the trail that Dave heard stories of, but we tried every one we saw and they were all dead ends. Luckily I knew where we were, and we decided to go back and look for the secret road again.  We finally found it and it led us to the trail.  I then asked Robert to investigate a rock face to see if it was a short bypass trail, but his Tricorder malfunctioned and he told me, “No.” We therefore rode down this terrible stupid trail that headed in the exactly opposite direction and finally found Tamara and Joe at the turn around.  I said a whole lot of cusswords and then prayed we would find the correct trail.  We then rode the lower section of trail along the bluffs, and although they were beautiful I hated them for making us go around and lose more time, so I cussed them too and thanked the Lord for their beauty, but told Him that it would be great if He could move them out of the way.  As we left that trail I pointed out the bypass to Robert and scorned him for not calibrating his equipment better.  We took the trail system past CP19 to the TA and dropped the bikes with no mechanicals, minus some intense frame rub on Robert’s bike.


We then had only 40 minutes out and 40 minutes back to complete the race and we knew there was no way we could clear.  I figured we could get one or two more CPs.  We shot for CP13 and took the wrong road the first time, and then the wrong trail the second time, but got to see the guy that got impaled and also got to see the lovely Sirens again (I'm really hoping for a team invite).  Those tricky devils navigated past us probably when we were searching for the secret trail.  A solo racer gave us a hand by putting us on the correct trail and we had to run up the hill to CP13.  We then ran back and I thought about CP11, but Dave said he was done.  We went back to the TA and Alane said we should bike to CP19 since we knew where it was, but I said, “No Dave is done,” and we finished with 50 minutes to spare.  Tamara snuck off and got CP19 and beat us.  Joe slammed that down Dave’s throat as he grinned ear to ear.  I actually was pretty happy for Joe.
Minton photobombing TeamBOR Lost Souls

METROPOLIS
We got cleaned up and then I got kidnapped by Black Bart.  He took us all the way to Metropolis Illinois while threatening Kentucky if we were bad.  He forced Sonic ice cream upon us and made us walk amongst some sketchy superheros and villians.  I didn’t see SuperKate there so I felt it was survivable.  He forced his camera upon a stranger to capture us in front of a villain named Superman.  I prayed Batman would come and save me as I knew I had forgot to stop my Garmin tracking the race and it was sitting in my pack laying on the ground near our campsite.  Black Bart then forced us to look at a mini boar named Piggy.
PIGGY THE BOAR

 Piggy squealed in disgust that we didn’t have our BOR gear on.  Then Black Bart set a 20lb bag of ice on my balls and snickered all the way back to the TA as I threatened to jump to my death.  We also saw some hoodlums putting an immense amount of trash in Kevin Minton’s truck bed, which we shammed them and told them they weren’t being nice.  Probably the same hoodlums that spun gravel on a J-hook U turn.

After a few shots of whisky and a few beers, we watched the sun set and listened to Cortivo Radio Live.
He spun tales so tall that the only one that believed him was me; well because 90% of the stories involved me and I was there.  We fell asleep spooning like the Three Stooges; wait that’s a lie.  We fell asleep individually and were awoken at 3ish AM by the dreadfull sound of Mickey’s voice, which sounds like a young boy kicked in the nads, while scrapping his nails on a chalkboard.  He wanted a bike since Chief Firewater had broken his derailleur in a mad Fireball rager.  Dave fell out of his hammock, Robert jumped out of his shuttle craft, and I leapt to my feet on the portico, tripped over the tent rope, and took the map board and tow off my bike.  Alane stayed silently in her reading room.  We checked on vomiting Kevin and made sure they had fluids, and food.  Chief Firewater yelled at me a few times that he didn’t like my orange Gatorade and they disappeared into the darkness.  You could hear a high pitched boy yelling demands, vomiting, and a crazed Feather not Dot Indian (Native American) screaming Fireball fading into the distance.

We asked the race director about TeamBOR’s location and they said, “they are here.”  I thought that is us, and asked about Team Virtus as we were concerned about losing Chuck and losing his whiskey for future rides.
TEAM VIRTUS


 They said they hadn’t checked in yet because SuperKate made a detour to Metropolis (Something about a mandatory meeting).
 I asked about our other TeamBOR and I got a funny look and they said, “they are here.”  I asked for clarification and they said, “they have been here for an hour.”  We looked around confused and then Jessie literally walked right between all of us like a zombie making a b-line for the human fecal troughs, aka pooping facility.  We yelled at her and asked where was FN Dave Beattie? She said that she had no idea and thought that she was gonna quit.  We told her to go to the bathroom and wake up.  Apparently, Dave told her that he was going to change his shoes and snuck off for a nap and she fell asleep in her trunk waiting on him.  We went looking for Dave and found him in the parking lot.  We got the two back together and made sure they were ok and gave Dave a smack in the butt and they were back out racing.
TEAM BOR

  We then went back to bed and awoke to the finishers coming in.  We stayed for the awards, stole the 24 hour racers breakfast, and found out that Dave and Jessie took 2nd place in their division with a one hour mid race nap.

We made a caravan of cars home,
we past Chief Firewater’s tribe riding slow and in war formation as I ducked down behind Beattie, and the rest is just a memory.  – Ahab.






KEVIN MALFUNCTIONED

$2.75!


Thursday, May 18, 2017

2017 The Epic by Scott Shaw


2017 The Epic by Scott Shaw

I signed up for The Epic early and immediately regretted my decision because I knew I couldn’t take it easy on training.  Last year the Epic or “Ogre” was the challenge of the year for me.  I trained hard, finished, and dropped off most of my racing shortly after.  This year I didn’t train half as much and was recovering from injuries that took me out of my running training.  I knew going into this year’s event that my cardio was in bad shape, and I hadn’t had a chance to get in a long ride, so I would be in pain.  I also hadn’t been weight training, but my legs felt strong to me, so I thought I would try my best and if all else failed, then just finish.

It pretty much rained solid a few days before the event, so the course was shortened to take out the highest water crossings.  I was happy to hear that I no longer had to ride 150 miles soaking wet and only would have to ride 130.  Tanya (my wife) and I drove down to the event in the rain, checked in, ate dinner, went to the pre-race meeting, and crashed at the hotel, all the while it was still raining.  Tanya started telling me it would be nice to stay in the hotel for the weekend or go home early.  I told her I had pre-paid the hotel and I had driven all the way, so no matter what I was starting in the morning.  We met some out of town racers that asked me questions about my bike set up and what clothes I was going to wear.  One of them didn’t think tights were necessary, but I told him I wouldn’t be riding fast enough the whole time to keep warm while soaking wet.  He almost changed my mind to wear shorts, but I stuck with my plan.  Wear a water “proof” jacket over my jersey and let my tights get soaked over my shorts.  I planned to ditch the jacket and tights if I got hot.  I chose to wear my summer mountain bike shoes because I knew my feet would be wet instantly and my boots don’t drain.

Larry Lazo told me we had to crush the start and stay ahead of most the pack, but I knew that meant me too.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to hang with him for long.  We started and instantly soul crushing realities started coming into my mind.  My legs were already burning, I was overheating, I couldn’t see due to the rain and gravel crap, and I couldn’t hold Larry’s pace.  I realized that to finish I had to slow down and recover and find a pace I could live with.  I had an extremely hard time of recovering.  I don’t think I ate enough that morning and I didn’t eat enough at check point one, even though Tanya was trying to get me to eat more.  I felt like I was drinking enough, but since I was soaked through I couldn’t really tell if I was sweating (my jacket was not water proof).  I found a pace I was comfortable with and I kept my clothing as it was because I feared getting hypothermia.  I knew there was nothing I had to change into that would keep me dry, and wet and warm is better than wet and cold.  The hail pinging off my helmet made me laugh until it hit me in the face and went through my helmet vents.  It was short lived, but the wind, rain, and lightning were fierce.  I decided it was safer to keep riding and keep my rubber tires on the ground instead of my metal shoe cleats.  That meant there would be no hill walking.

Eric Reber caught me struggling before check point one and I told him that I was having trouble recovering. He was sore from well over 200 miles the previous week, so he said he would ride with me.  It was nice to have someone to suffer with that didn’t mind the slow pace.  We rode quite a bit with Jeff and Carrie Sona on their tandem and I got to witness their insane downhill speed and subsequent splashing and parting off the waters at the crossings.  I’d follow them down and take Jeff’s lines and then pass them uphill and then repeat.  It felt safer following them at speed through the water crossings than doing it on my own.  I figured if they survived, then I would.  I still was very concerned about the crossings after last year.  Eric and I stayed together until CP1.  At CP1, Tanya started talking to me about quitting again and I thought Eric left before me, so I took off in a hurry avoiding Tanya and looking for him, but as I got off to walk a water crossing I saw him coming up from behind, so I waited for him to catch up.  We rode a pretty chill pace, but even at a slower pace we still had to walk crossings as they were getting much deeper. 


While descending, along came up a bunch of riders going the wrong way.  They were all telling us to turn around and go back to CP1 because the road was flooded so bad it was unpassable.  I think this was somewhere around mile 40.  Eric wanted to ride down to look, but a lot of riders said it was a long way back up, and I saw Emily Korsch and Erl in the group, so I immediately turned around and told Eric that if they didn’t cross, then we weren’t going to cross.  Later, I told Eric I was concerned that a herd mentality was happening as no one knew where we were going, so we stopped and looked for an alternate route.  We didn’t find one so we caught back up to the herd stopped at a road talking with race officials.  The group rode back to CP1 together.  Standing at the gas station/quickie mart I was starting to shiver.  I noticed others shivering and a large mass taking over the gas station and eating all their food.  The gas station floor looked like it had flooded from all the racers walking around in it.  I managed to shoot a couple texts to Tanya to let her know I wouldn’t be making CP2.  The cell reception was terrible.  At this time the race officials told us the race was over due to unsafe conditions.  They gave us three choices; one, call and get a ride back, two, wait for them to shuttle us, or three, ride back.  I saw about a dozen riders talking about riding back.  I knew it was about 28 miles back.  Eric said that didn’t sound like a lot, but it would be in the extreme conditions.  I felt bad, but made sure he had a ride back, and then I left him there.  I decided I paid too much, spent too much time, and drove too far to quit.  I shot Tanya a text to meet me back at the Start/Finish.



We took the asphalt back to gravel.  The asphalt had me thinking I was feeling better, but once back on the gravel I started feeling bad again.  It continued to rain and the wind and lightning picked up.  The miles were slowly ticking off.  I pretty much had to walk every water crossing and one or two had almost swept me off my feet.  My legs started cramping and I cursed myself for not buying water, Gatorade, and food at the gas station.  I rode on without any fuel and water, thinking if I get desperate there is plenty of rain to drink.  The gravel started getting eroded off the roads from the down pouring rushing streams that were now on both sides of the road.  It was neat to see, very loud, but very hard to ride when the streams crossed the road and made tons of potholes.  My legs started cramping really bad, which made me walk a hill, but the lightning convinced me to jump back on the bike quickly.  I could feel my skin chafing on the seams of my shorts on the top of my thighs and I thought, that’s a first.”  Around 3 miles to go the front tire flatted.  I quickly changed it and didn’t feel anything sharp in the tire, so I chalked it up to a pinch flat from hitting all the potholes.  About a mile later the rear flatted.  I found a long skinny sharp rock that pierced and stuck into the tire.  I was riding through standing water almost constantly, hitting potholes, and a million sticks, and a piece of gravel flatted me.  As I was changing the flat, trying my best to keep gravel out of the tire, the wind and lightning became incredibly fierce, so much so that I started thinking about shelter.  I looked around for twisters, didn’t see any, looked around for shelter, and decided the thick woods was my best bet, but stayed put, and continued the flat repair.

                With the flat fixed I got back to riding and knew I was really close to the Start/Finish.  I started to pass a truck and the guy kept waving to me.  I thought he was directing me to turn, which matched my Garmin, so I started to turn and he jumped out of his truck and acted as if he was going to stop me.  I then could hear him yelling that the power lines were on the road.  I asked him what the other racers did and I told him I would step over them like they did.  After crossing two down lines and a tree I was on my way again. I started to feel the back tire going flat again, but I could see the Start/Finish so I kept going.  A lake stood in the way of the finish.  I thought, “This will be cool and get some cheers” as I plowed into the water and rode through at about top tube depth, but no one noticed my efforts.  I turned to finish and the finish line was destroyed, most people were already gone, some people were huddled under the shelter, and Tanya was standing there saying, “Thank God, you are crazy!”  I think she meant that she was thankful I was back and not so thankful I am crazy.  I checked in so the race officials knew I was alive and then Tanya told me all about the storm that knocked everything over and flooded the grounds.  I managed 72 miles, so I didn’t even complete the 80 mile course.  I hated cutting it short as I really wanted to see if I could recover and ride the rest, but by the look of things, the race director made the right call. 
Before it blew over.

                We had another night in the hotel pre-paid so we stayed and chilled out. In the morning I changed my tires back to heavy duty CX tires and found a half inch thorn in the rear gravel tire.  We ate breakfast and did a little shopping, but it was still raining, and I thought we better get home before roads close.  Tanya likes highway 70, so we took that.  It was packed with traffic, but I may have done some off-roading to go from highway to service road to avoid it.  When we got home we started to hear of all the flooding and road closures.  Good thing we took 70.  It was an Epic wet adventure. – Ahab.
Highway 44

Thursday, December 22, 2016

2016 MR340 by Robert Bart

My MR340 Adventure

Warning: This is a long account.

“This is crazy,” was the first thought that went through my head after I clicked the registration button. What was I thinking, signing up for a 340-mile paddle race (from Kansas City to St. Charles) when I’ve only been paddling for about a year and a half. I assured myself if I planned this out and paddled as much as possible, I could do this. “I could do this.” I had already begun building a suitable boat, and with the full support of my wife as my ground crew, we began planning. Also, thanks to a good friend of mine (Neil Dickhaus) I had a training boat for practice, and as time would tell, a race boat because my boat would not be complete by race day. Thanks go out to Neil for allowing me to keep and use his kayak for so long a period.

I managed to get 77 miles of paddling in before race day and learned a great deal about what it would take to complete this adventure. We went to classes at the Alpine Shop in Kirkwood, Missouri and discussion forums in Kansas City, both put on by veteran racers. Slowly we began to learn what it takes to race the MR340 and develop a plan. I didn’t really get serious about planning this out until about a month prior when I DNF’d the Missouri Freedom Race put on by midwestpaddleracing.com.
That failure, however, only strengthened my resolve to complete the MR340. I did learn several valuable things from that race. I now knew how fast I could average on the Missouri River, how often I needed to refuel, when to apply sunscreen, what type of clothes to wear, how the boat needed to be loaded, and what needed to be in the boat. Planning now progressed quickly because I had good data and a desire to prove to myself and my wife that this could be done.

There are eight required checkpoint stops on the MR340. I stopped an additional six times to meet my water and food needs. Each stop in the plan had mileage, ETA, and what supplies would be incoming. Meals were planned around my paddling stops. Most stops were quick swap of supplies and back out on the river. A rudder was added to the boat to allow paddling to focus only on forward motion. A new custom deck bag was made to store items for easy access. A phone mount and charging setup was installed to provide GPS data and tracking for the race directors and friends. Texting in and out at check points is a requirement of the race, and a good way to let my wife know when to expect me. If cell phone signal was lost, the contingency was to follow the plan based on the last known departure time. My wife also mapped and printed directions for all stops since cell coverage wasn’t guaranteed. I also carried an extra day’s worth of supplies in the case of vehicle failure.
.Finally, it’s time to race! We headed toward the race start at Kaw Point in Kansas City on Monday morning. It was recommended that we stage the boat as early as possible that day, in order to get a good spot. Security arrived around noon to start watching over boats. When we arrived around 1pm, we found that there was already a flurry of activity and over one hundred boats already staged, including some really neat prototype boats. My favorite was a four person pedal drive boat that was over 25 feet long. The pedals are turning in my head already for a similar type of build (once I finish my current boat…). We managed a spot right off the water that would make things easier the next morning.

With the boat staged, it was off to the hotel a mile away for check-in. This event has become so large that they had to move the check-in and mandatory safety meeting to a nearby hotel. We’re several hours early for the safety meeting so we decide to head to a nearby grocery store for some last minute ice for the cooler, and tomatoes. We ended up in an area of Kansas City known as little Mexico, which means lots of chilies and everything has a Mexican twist to it. So my tomatoes that we needed for my BLTs were tiny, but no less tasty.

After the final supply check, we headed back to the hotel for a pasta dinner prior to the safety meeting. Turns out you can have chicken Alfredo with asparagus, without the chicken or asparagus. So the hotel comped our meal. They were really overwhelmed by our crowd of 2000 people I think. We finished just in time to head downstairs to the massive conference room where the safety meeting would be starting momentarily.

The safety meeting was an hour long affair praising all the sponsors and the 120 volunteers that make this race possible. Too many sponsors to list but the title sponsor was Missouri American Water. Next were the required gear check and finally the safety briefing detailing locations of dredges, bad idea shortcuts, and turbulent water at some of the checkpoints. All checkpoints would have a bright yellow flag during the day and a blinking blue beacon at night.

After the safety meeting we headed back to our sleeping accommodations for the night. I loaded as much gear as I could into the boat so there would be less to do in the morning. This included my deck bag, PFD, emergency supplies, navigation lights, and phone mount. Our budget was tight this year, so we stayed in the back of our SUV. This was a bad idea. It was hot and noisy. People were coming and going nearly all night long, closing doors, and arming cars. A train also passed every two hours. So next year we will stay at the hotel where the safety meeting was, or in a camper maybe. Ear plugs are a must for sleeping in the carThe next morning, we are up at 5am. It’s time to slip into the day’s paddling clothes and move the remainder of my gear (mostly fresh food and water for the morning) down to the boat. Also had some banana bread as a snack to hold me over until it was time to eat breakfast on the boat. By 6am we are ready to launch the boat. So we carry it the last little bit down to the ramp and get in line. This is where one of the tips from the group forum paid off. It was recommended we launch the boat by 6am to avoid the huge line that develops closer to the 7 A.M. start. We were able to launch by 6:07 A.M. So I had plenty of time to paddle over to the opposite bank, eat my breakfast and watch the madness ensue as everyone tries to crowd onto the ramp and get their boats launched. Also had some time to talk with a few veteran racers to learn about their plans for the race and checkout their gear setups.The cannon fires at 7 A.M. after a prayer and the national anthem, and we’re racing! I hang back a bit to let the crazy fast racers go. I have no hope of keeping up with them so why would I want to get in their way by being on the front line. It helps ease the congestion and allows me to position myself for the entry into the mighty Missouri River. The start of the race is actually on the Kansas River and just a few hundred feet to the Missouri River. This is important because the Missouri River moves much faster and when entering from a slower moving river, it can spin you right around. Not a good thing when there are 400 other boats around you all trying to do the same thing. Fortunately, everybody makes it through safe and sound. The safety boats again have nothing to do this year but watch and cheer.

I pass a standup paddle board (SUP) with three people onboard. Two of which are paddling and a third who is sitting in a lawn chair playing a banjo and singing. I can’t help but wonder to myself if I will see these guys again or if they will even make it. (Update: This was Shane Perrin (81) (the oldest racer in the MR340) and crew who are ultra-endurance standup paddlers who have already paddled the Mississippi end to end and done the Texas water safari. They finished this year’s MR340 in 81 hours. Impressive! Never underestimate jovial octogenarians.) I can’t help but wonder the same thing about myself either. The reality of it is, at this point I still have over three hundred and 339 miles to go. Yes! I will make it I tell myself. I’ve tasted the Missouri River in other races. I know what to expect. I know how to deal with barge wakes and capsizing. I know how the channel and its navigation beacons work. I know how wing dikes and bridge pilings work. I’ve trained repeatedly in the heat. I am prepared! Only time will tell if it’s enough.

The first CP is Lexington at river mile marker (MM) 317. The race started at MM 368. That’s a 51-mile paddle right off the cannon. If I paddle at my usual (for the Missouri) 6.5 mph, I should make Lexington by 3pm. Luckily, there’s a convenient boat ramp at Fort Osage to stop at right around lunch time. Not an official checkpoint, but a necessary stop to refuel water and pick up a nice fresh lunch of chicken gyros made by my wonderful wife. This was planned as a quick stop to swap my adventure pack for a fresh one which had all my water and fresh food supplies. I drink the last of my water from the previous pack, stuff trash in the pack, and get it off my back before I roll into the stop, aiming for the TeamBOR flag we made as a marker to help me spot her.

As I come in, my wife steadies me. I toss her the spent pack and she tosses me the fresh one. She then pushes back out away from the boat ramp and yells good luck and I love you. Just like that I’m back out paddling only having lost a couple of minutes. I wish I could say all the stops will be like that.

We didn’t plan to stop at Lexington, but I decide to text my wife and let her know that I’ll stopping in about half an hour for some fresh cold water. I text her half an hour before each stop as a notice of when I expect to be there so she is ready for me. We swap packs, say a few encouraging words, rest for a moment, then back out on the water. A smiling, happy wife is a wonderful thing. It’s twenty-three miles to Waverly, the next official CP at MM 294. This was one of my mini goals. It was exciting to see the mile markers drop below 300. Still 265 miles to go though. I’m just paddling the river one mile at a time. One beautiful bend to the next.

There’s been a thunder storm brewing behind us on the river for the last hour or so. This is the first major test of my resolve and skill. We all begin to pick up the pace as the storm gets closer and closer. Then the wind picks up and the water starts to get choppy. The boats are getting hard to control and I consider pulling over to wait it out. I’m only two miles from Waverly so I decide to tough it out. So do the other boats around me as well. My legs are getting a great workout right now as they are constantly working the rudder to keep the boat pointed down river and the waves that keep crashing over the boat. Eventually, I make it to Waverly about 15 minutes ahead of schedule and without much from the storm but some wind and a show. GPS says I pushed it to a max speed of 8.1 mph. So I take a break at Waverly to stretch and decide to eat one of my delicious brats while I wait. Cue the rain. Fortunately, it’s not a down poor, but good thing I packed the rain coat. They warned us that getting soaked by the rain can cause you to go hypothermic after the storm abates because of the cooler temps that usually follow. I take off in the rain wearing the rain coat as my wife sarcastically asks me why I decided to do this race. I smile and stuff another bite of brat in my mouth and say I love you. The water is now calm enough again and she pushes me off. Before I get too far, I yell back to her and ask for a huge protein bar at Miami. She acknowledges and I paddle off for what seemed like an hour before the storm finally gives way to clear sunny skies.

Then mother nature decides to show us the most beautiful and complete rainbow I’ve ever seen. I enjoy it for a moment while I remove the rain coat and stow it for later. Several paddlers pull out their cameras and snap shots. One more stop to go for the day, but it will be midnight before i get there.
The evening is nice and cool compared to the day, now that the sun is setting. I see Hill’s Island and its nice warm inviting fire coming into view. There are a few boats there pulled up on the sand. It’s not an official checkpoint, but they always send a safety boat there to start a fire to let weary paddlers rest or spend the night in the quiet dark away from trains, cars with alarms, and other noises of life. For a moment, I consider staying the night because it does look really inviting considering just how tired I am. I ultimately decide to press on into the dark of night. For the next two hours I find myself wishing I had stayed back at Hill’s Island and cursing myself for not staying and the absent full moon. They told us there would be a full moon each night. Where the hell is it? Then, around ten o’clock it finally shows itself and I greet it with wonderful relief. I have failed to keep up with the other night paddlers ahead of me and all I see are their dim navigation lights in the distance. So seeing the moon is like having a companion for the night’s travels. It doesn’t talk back, but stares at you and helps you find your way.

I can now see the beacons and mile markers on the north bank and know that I have gone almost one hundred miles. No barges or dredges tonight, just some startled channel catfish. I wonder just how big a fish needs to be in order to push my boat around and force me to make a course correction. I can finally see the blinking blue beacon that signifies my stop for the night. Miami is in site! So I text my wife to let her know I’ll be in around 12:15 A.M. Thank you Monster Energy for keeping me awake. I pull into Miami where my smiling wife and a handful of volunteers eagerly await my arrival. It’s a wonderful thing to have volunteers to help you out of your boat and haul it up to a waiting area for you. My wife helps me out of my PFD and backpack and shuts off my navigation lights. I change out of my wet clothes, eat the protein bar I requested, and use the bathroom. Thankfully all the plumbing is working correctly after 17 hours of sitting in a kayak. The race directors warned us that if we didn’t go like we normally do, that something is wrong and we probably wouldn’t make it to the finish line. Off to sleep then.
The plan is to sleep for the next four hours. Despite being incredibly tired, sleep doesn’t come that easy. Miami is a noisy checkpoint. There are people scurrying everywhere. Volunteers and boy scouts serving food. Vehicles are coming and going, RVs and generators running all night. The port-a-loo is metal with a metal door that goes CLANG every time someone uses it. I’m also laying across the back seat of our SUV. So, even with ear plugs to drown out the noise, it’s still hot and I’m uncomfortable. At some point, we move to a quieter place away from most of the noise, but my sleep still isn’t great. I’m awake just before the 4 A.M. alarm goes off. I tell my wife it’s time to get ready and get back in the boat. No procrastinating here! We both swing back into action and I’m ready to go with fresh supplies and back on the water by 4:45 A.M. I think I was back on the water earlier but that was my official checkout time.

The early morning paddle is calm, serene, and refreshing. This is my new favorite time to paddle. I see barges tied up on the north shore just as the morning sun begins to light the sky. The race directors warned us about these, because there are at least five of them. “Always give barges, even parked ones, a wide berth” they say. It’s only an hour now to my first stop of the day at Dalton Bottoms. Next year I may try to make it here the first night even though it’s another twenty-three miles. It’s a great stop with plenty of amenities and it’s quiet. I arrive as planed at right around 8am. My wife is ready with a smile my breakfast and fresh supplies. It’s a quick stop and back on the river. Breakfast is a delicious surprise of two sausage egg and cheese biscuits from McDonald’s. She had bought them and wrapped them in aluminum foil to keep them warm. These are always a morale booster for me. A perfect way to start off the morning! One of my side goals for today is to keep my feet dry. Yesterday they were soaked and took forever to dry out overnight. Let’s see how long I can keep them that way.

The next stop is Glasgow at MM226, only 13 miles downriver. I’m now under two hundred miles to go! Next is Franklin Island after another 30 miles. Not much to report as it’s pretty much the same as the first day. I also get to paddle with some TeamBOR friends for a while in the afternoon. Chuck Voshen and his wife in a composite canoe are there to keep me company. They are doing great. We see more of a safety boat today as we pass by a dangerous area the RDs told us to avoid. Last year a paddler lost his boat trying to take a short cut behind Franklin Island. He was unhurt, fortunately, but his race was over and his boat never found. Franklin Island is only a little further even though it isn’t an official checkpoint but at MM196 it’s a good place to refuel for the next CP at Katfish Katy’s at MM180. Katfish Katy’s restaurant is closed this year, but the new owners allowed us to use the space as a race checkpoint. This has been a checkpoint since the very first year of the MR340.

This is where it starts to get interesting on the second day. I will pass the first active dredge I’ve seen on the river in just a couple of hours. They warned me about this as I left Katfish Katy’s. It’s not the dredge that worries me. It’s the barges actively moving between the stationary dredge and the shore line. My heart begins to race as I begin to hear the incredible noise it generates long before I even see it. It’s probably another 20 minutes to half an hour before it comes into view, and realize that I’m still almost an hour away. It’s still too far away to even tell if there’s a barge parked there or not. The river is very straight through this stretch. I’m continually watching the other boats in front of me to see what they are doing. I also check behind me frequently for a barge coming to drop an empty container. As I get closer I realize that it is actively filling a container already and there’s a barge docked. So I’m trying to estimate in my head just how full it might be and when that barge is planning on departing. I look down at my watch and notice that it’s a little after 5 P.M. and I’m wondering why the barge is still operating. We were told that they cease operations at 5pm. They must be finishing this load before quitting for the day. The noise is quite loud, even from the far side of the river. I’m almost on top of the dredge now and watching intently for signs that the barge is ready to depart. The container looks like it’s almost at the water line. It’s got to be full. I’m expecting it to start moving any moment.
Fortunately, the barge never moves. I breathe a sigh of relief as I pass out of earshot of the dredge and I think I’m home free. However, around the next bend I see the barge that is headed up river to meet that dredge. I’m already calmed back down from the dredge encounter and I remember to turn around and check the last navigation beacon I just past. It’s solid red, which tells me that the channel is staying on the left side of the river. I’ve still got about half an hour before I intercept it, so I casually make my way to the opposite side of the river because I still want to take advantage of the channel for as long as I can. I finally reach the barge as I reach the far shore. There are no wing dikes to hide behind so I pick up a little speed and head for the point a few hundred feet behind where the barge is now and angle my kayak perpendicular to his wake. We exchange waves as we pass and I’m not worried because he doesn’t seem to be pushing very hard. His wake isn’t bad at all and soon I’m back to paddling down a calm river and enjoying the view of the cliff faces in the setting sun behind me.

My next stop is Cooper’s Landing at MM 170 and its almost dark. I pick up my night paddling supplies, get my navigation lights turned on, and my supplies sorted. We’ve also been told the race directors have an agreement with the barge operators to cease operations after dark during the race. Very nice of them to arrange this and one less thing for us to worry about while night paddling. I hear another paddler pull in and shout “Where’s the Thai food!” Cooper’s Landing has a restaurant that serves delicious Thai food but I have elected to avoid this because I already know what effect Thai food has on my system so I push off and say my good byes to my wife. She doesn’t even get half way up the ramp before I come back in. My rudder is stuck on the deck because the rope that allows me to drop it has come untied. I have her drop it and stow the rope on deck. We’ll fix it at Jeff City when I pull in for the night. I also plug in my power bank and charge my phone while I still have a little light left. I seem to be able to get about 18 hours of battery life. It’s a good thing I packed power banks that my wife has been keeping charged for me.

 It’s now dark and I can see the faint glow of the navigation lights of two boats in front of me. Someone on the north shore is having some fun lighting fireworks as we pass. So I take the time to enjoy it as I put on some bug spray because the mosquitos seem to be bad this evening. I miss and accidentally spray myself in the face. I know… it’s harder than you might think, in the dark, to see where a spray nozzle is pointed. Lots of water spit into the river and I find my spare gloves and wipe it off after realizing that everything else is already covered in bug spray. I think I’ll look for some bug spray wipes for next year. After the bug spray episode, I start hearing high pitched sound pulses around me and I realize that I’m surrounded by bats who are devouring the bugs on the river. I manage to catch a few in my spot light. They are quick and their little ultrasonic echoes are kind of cool when you can hear them. I don’t need any bug spray after that.

My listening to the bats is interrupted by a gaggle of geese having a rave party somewhere on the north shore. I shine my light in their direction but never spot them as they go quiet at my light. Maybe the bug spray and monster energy is making me hallucinate because I also spot the bright lights of a barge headed towards me a long way up river. A few paddlers pull up next to me and we talk about the barge so I’m hopeful that I’m not hallucinating because they see it too. Nothing on the geese though. We watch the navigation lights of a boat closer to the barge and note that they pass to the left of the barge because we didn’t lose their navigation lights during their transit of the barge. Closer and closer we get and I start to hear the rumble of the barge’s engines. My nerves are on edge as I start to pass it but then I realize that its actually anchored to the south shore and the hum is just its generators keeping its beacons shining bright.

Faster paddlers continue to pass me all night long but we exchange quick conversations as they pass and the moon is now back to keep me company. Cloud cover had obscured it for about an hour during my barge transit. Hours seem to pass as I haven’t seen anyone in a while and my only company is a large fish that has come to investigate me and my little kayak. I must have startled it when it bolted off with a huge swirl of water that rocks my boat. I wonder for a moment just how big that fish would have to be in order to push me off course like that. Maybe I’m hallucinating again, but I don’t have time to think about that now as I see another set of bright lights up ahead. Is it my CP for the night, Jeff City! No, it’s not blinking blue and it’s only eleven pm as I check my watch. I have at least another hour to go. It’s a parked dredge and I’m already much closer to it than I thought because its beacon lights are not very bright compared to the barge I just past. Nothing to worry about, just steer clear of it. There’s plenty of river. I prefer passing dredges at night anyway. There’s no active barge traffic lumbering about on the river. Even if it wasn’t very well lit, the very prevalent sound of rushing water is a good indicator of something breaking the surface of the water nearby. Perfect time to turn my headlamp on and scan the water to see what it is. Most of the time it’s just some rocks or trees near the edge. A couple of times it was a buoy marking the inside edge of the channel.
Its eleven thirty and my monster energy drink is gone. Don’t worry I tell myself. I planned it that way so I could sleep at the next stop which is only about forty-five minutes away according to my GPS. The moon is bright overhead which is useful because something curious is going on up ahead. There are two boats floating crossways in the river frantically shining their lamps around. I turn mine on too out of curiosity because I don’t see anything. Just then I spot a dark, black, rectangular object sitting over the water not rocking like the other boats I see. What is it I wonder. It’s not moving nor does it have any navigation lights, it’s just there quiet like a stone. So I shine my massively bright head lamp in its direction but still only see a dark black, ominous rectangle. Just then it starts moving, but its moving so incredibly fast I can’t even move my head fast enough to follow it with my headlamp. It’s not bouncing around like you would think a boat would move on the water. Its movement is smooth and uninterrupted and it’s also not making any noise that I can discern. Even as it passes on the other side of the river, it’s dark, quiet and more importantly there’s no wake. What is it, I wonder. Did I just see a UFO! Or maybe some top secret military vehicle! Am I hallucinating?

Another boat pulls up alongside me. It’s a two person racing canoe. “Did you see that black object moving super-fast across the water” they ask me! “Yes, well I guess I’m not hallucinating if you guys saw it to,” I reply. They also thought they were hallucinating. Relieved, but also a little bit disappointed, we paddle on spurred by a glimpse of the blinking blue beacon that signifies our CP at Jeff City. However, it disappears again and again taunting us as we go around the next couple of bends in the river. The Jeff City bridge has also come into view, along with an active barge moving just under the bridge. It’s nice to know that not all the barges stop for the night. Fortunately, the CP is on the opposite side of the river. I move to the other side of the river and text my wife to let her know I’m half an hour out. She doesn’t reply like normal because she has prepared a bed in the back of our SUV for me to sleep on and has fallen asleep testing it out. Thankfully she has set an alarm based on my planned arrival on her que sheet. By the time I’m on the shore at MM 144 and out of the bathroom, she’s there to greet me and help me to the car.

I strip down and change clothes to dry out. This is when we discover that I have a nasty heat rash on my back. My wife snaps a photo to show me what it looks like then sends the picture for analysis to my teammates watching my progress. While she heads back to the boat for my first aid cream, they confirm its heat rash and nothing major to worry about. Also, it doesn’t hurt at all. It only itches a little.  I’m already asleep by the time she gets back and only vaguely aware of her rubbing it on the rash.
I decide to sleep in a little longer and wake up around 5:00 A.M. well rested and ready to go. Apparently I slept very well. So well in fact, that when I was walking back to my boat, I asked about the fire truck sitting there with its lights flashing. Apparently, while I was snoring rather loudly, they got a report of a capsized canoe that wasn’t so lucky with the same barge that I passed right as I was pulling into Jeff City. She lost control of her canoe in the barge wake and capsized. However, another kayaker saw it happen then lost sight of her after the barge passed. Fearing the worst, they call the safety boats and the Jeff City fire department was there almost immediately with their boats and massive search lights. They quickly located her on a nearby sand bar where she had decided to stay the night and dry out. I slept through this entire event and got some really good sleep. I must have been really tired.

I eat a quick bite of banana nut bread from my wife’s food stash as we’re getting ready to paddle again. I skip the morning monster energy and don’t need the navigation lights as its almost light already. I’m about two hours off schedule so I take my breakfast along instead of picking it up at the next CP in four hours at Chamois MM 118. My wife also expertly adjusts my food plan to account for being off schedule. We had discussed what to do in this eventuality (plan B).
The paddle to Chamois is again a calm and serene morning paddle marked only by passing of some sort of processing plant along the river around MM 130. A gentleman is waving us away from it with a glowing red flashlight and warning us to steer clear of the parked barges there. Thank you for your watchful care whoever you are. The whole morning paddle to Chamois is uneventful with the exception of the bright morning sun! We are paddling due east all morning long and the sun is directly in my face and the glare from the river is almost unbearable. I paddle along the shore line on the channel side as much as possible to cut down on the glare. However, it can’t be avoided when the channel decides to change sides and cross the river. “Why did the channel cross the river?” I ask myself and some nearby paddlers is a composite canoe. “To get to the other side”, I laughingly say. They chuckle a bit to, but it’s a sad laugh as the sun is still beaming us brightly in the face and it’s starting to get hot out. The heat hasn’t been a problem for me so far, but today looks to be different because the heat has come much earlier than yesterday.

Chamois isn’t an official CP, but it breaks up the long seven-hour paddle from Jeff City to Hermann, which is now only about three hours away. I’m grateful for the ice water my wife has put in my pack and all the chilled snacks. They help me deal with the heat. I also rejoice a little as I’m now less than one hundred miles from the finish. My friends in the composite canoe stopped for a swim and some shade at Chamois. My stop was a quick refill of supplies and back out on the river. The blueberry pancake bites my wife had planned to make for me are replace by some delicious blueberry muffins with some fried bacon and hard boiled eggs. My wife has also anticipated the heat and packed me with two extra bottles of Gatorade.
Gatorade wasn’t a big part of my plan, but it will be next year. However, all the sugary sweet stuff is starting to wear on my throat and I can’t drink anymore Gatorade. Maybe I’ll try some sugar free stuff before next year’s race.  A hot tip from one of the veterans I spoke with during one of the early prerace discussion forums was to bring along a tooth brush and tooth paste. Brushing your teeth regularly will help reset your tolerance for sweet stuff. The minty freshness of the tooth paste does help and I’m able to make it through the rest of my Gatorade without incident and maintain my hydration and electrolytes. My urine is still the appropriate color so I know I’m not in trouble. Despite my good hydration and the first aid cream on my back, the heat is really starting to get to me. I open my sunscreen stick only to find that it has melted from its normally viscous solid state and is oozing all over. Fortunately, it still works and when I’m done I stick it in my cooler box on the deck which I hope helps to solidify it for next time.

I also have some good conversation with the frantic paddlers that saw the ominous black object last night on the river. They tell me that they were the ones very near to the object. They also claim to have narrowly avoided a picnic table floating in the water that night. They claimed it was a john boat with two occupants, no navigation lights and a big, but quiet motor. We decide they must have been doing something illegal and the presence of several paddlers on the river must have spooked them, but I still like my description better.

I finally get into Hermann at MM 98 and my wife restocks my supplies while I take a much needed bath in the river to cool off. I’m not the only one either. I spend about 10 minutes just sitting in the water next to the ramp. I also learn that lots of people are calling it and quitting the race during this hot stretch. I’m now about two hours behind schedule and feel like my strength is failing me and for a moment I consider this fate as well. However, my wonderful wife is there with an army of volunteers to pick me up and smile at me and tell me just how good I’m doing. I know I look terrible and that her smile is probably hiding some immense worry for me in my current state, but her encouragement and beautiful smile is enough for me. I tell myself I can do this and I’m more determined than ever to make it to the next stop in Washington. So I push off and continue on. My wife has also offered me an alternative to think about as I paddle on to Washington. She suggests I take a break at Washington and get a shower and sleep at her mom’s house nearby. Deep down, I think she knows that I won’t take this option. It’s only much later when I reach Washington, that I learn just how much her smile was really hiding.
The temperature is slowly starting to drop and while it’s still hot there’s a light but much needed breeze. I also have found a couple of nice paddling companions. An older gentleman from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada in a hand built traditional style Nunavut canoe that he built in a community college class back home. I want to take that class! We exchange conversation about boat building and I get to talk about my strip built kayak project that’s still in work. I also get to paddle with two friends from Kansas City in an old vintage aluminum canoe outfitted with a custom built rudder. These two are quite brave and awesome at the same time. One is an ex-marine who never backs down from a challenge. The other is an eagle scout who was just as prepared for this adventure as I am. Their boat numbered 1369 (use your imagination for what that means, hint: separate the first and last two digits then apply some meaning to those two double digit numbers) is aptly named “Boaty McBoat Face” because they wanted the record to show that “Boaty McBoat Face” completed the MR340 unsupported. They are mountain bikers and hockey players who’ve carried two beers with them for the entire journey for toasting at the finish line. They flag down a safety boat on the way to Washington. They ask if everything is alright and if they need some water. However, they are only interested in some ice to keep their toasting beer cold. I will spend the remainder of my adventure paddling with and getting to know them. The conversation makes the time pass more quickly and we are no longer focused on the heat, which has now dropped considerably into the mid-90s and is cooling off quite nicely.

Another barge has appeared down river and the four of us discuss what to do about it. No one seems to know what to do. So I quickly look behind me and spot the last channel marker. It has a red checkered pattern, so I look where it’s pointing across the river on the right side and spot a green checkered channel marker right where it should be. I explain to the others where the channel is and where the barge will be right where we are in about fifteen minutes. We decide to make our way off channel to the right and continue paddling in the slack water. We also give ourselves room to negotiate the barge’s wake. The Canadian in the hand built canoe is much lighter and far more maneuverable so he has no trouble with the wake. My friends in the aluminum canoe are far heavier and seem to cut right through the waves. My foot operated rudder makes it easy to steer into the wake, but the nose of my boat is far pointier so my boat dives right through the waves and water continually crashes over the deck. Just another barge on the river at this point, no big deal.
We can tell we are getting close to Washington at MM 68 as we can now see the top of the Washington hospital. However, we are starting to encounter more frequent boaters out of Washington who have no regard for paddlers and whom fly right past us at full throttle. Some produce wakes much worse than any barge that we’ve yet encountered. Then comes the barge right as we’re approaching Washington, and there’s no time to get over to the enormous sound they’ve created for people to play in a calm water area. Since we’ve learned how to expertly negotiate barge wake, these boats are no problem. The only issue is that they come at you with such speed that you don’t have the time to react like you would with a barge.  I text my wife but still have no signal, the water is very choppy and only the Canadian and I pull in for resupply.
Washington isn’t an official CP this year but it’s a good place to resupply between Hermann and the next CP at Klondike Park. My mother-in-law and daughter are also there waiting with my wife to welcome me into Washington. My wife looks very much relieved that I’m in better spirits now and I find out that she was supper worried about me and cried most of the way to her mom’s house nearby. Thankfully they are there to help cheer her up and made me some mini pizzas for dinner. I also reboot my phone and my signal comes back. I have a bunch of texts from my wife. If only I had a signal, I could have reassured her. Maybe… I remember she has had less sleep than I have. All appears to be well now. Except for two stupid guys on jet skis that are making waves right near the boat ramp. The water is already choppy and these guys are just making it worse. After a quick scolding by my wife, they scurry off up river to play somewhere else. Way to go honey! As I prepare to get back in the boat after a resupply and I hear my mother-in-law say “I told you he wouldn’t take it. He’s going to finish this thing!” My Canadian friend has wandered off the ramp up into town to look for his crew. I don’t see him again for the rest of the race.

After a quick good luck, a hug and a kiss from my wife, daughter, and mother-in-law, I’m back in the boat and angling to catch my friends in Boaty McBoat Face. They aren’t far off and I catch them in less than half an hour. I have less than fifty miles to go! I also attempt to eat the mini pizzas my wife made for me, but I can’t seem to eat them. They aren’t tasting very good going down but force one down anyway because I know I need the calories. I’m also aware that I’ve not been eating enough of my snacks this afternoon and I try to eat something else. Did I mention how much I love brownies and cookies. I also have a root beer with dinner that hits the spot.

I finally catch them and ask if they can turn on my navigation lights. I didn’t notice my wife turning them on at Washington because they tell me they are already on. I also learn that their front red and green light is broken so I stick close to help make them more visible. The time passes quickly and before we know it, its 9:00 P.M. and we’re at the next CP at Klondike MM 56. I also get a call from my parents who thought I was finished because the Raceowl app that I’ve been tracking with hasn’t been able to update my position since I lost signal.
It’s the final stretch and we leave Klondike Park around 9:15 P.M. with another group of paddlers (four  boats in all) ready to finish this race. My wife shares my extra monster energy drinks with them and they are very envious of my support crew and tell her how wonderful she is for helping others out. We start to talk with the two other boats and get to know them a little bit. The plan was to stick together and finish in a group, but these two other boats are clearly faster than us and they soon pull away without noticing us slip back and are only dim specs of light in the distance. Boaty McBoat Face and I stick together after having repaired their front navigation light, they are good company.
The miles are ticking away slowly but we know we’re getting close. We hear helicopters coming and going from a nearby hospital which we can’t quite see. We have a hard time finding the channel because the navigation beacons aren’t showing themselves very well. Even though we use our headlamps to scan the shore, we can’t seem to locate them. We elect to stay in the middle of the river and just listen for rushing water. We pass under the first of three bridges and another paddler catches us on the other side of the river. So we head that direction thinking we might be on the wrong side of the river for the channel. It was a good thing too, as we hear the sound of rushing water ahead of us. We turn on our headlamps and begin scanning the water in front of us. It doesn’t take us long to realize we are about 30 feet from the most enormous wing dike we’ve ever seen! It’s just this huge boat crushing wall of rock! We make a hard left turn and start paddling with all we’ve got left. We’re yelling and carrying on making a bunch of racket as we keep an eye on that ever looming gigantic wing dike. The other paddler who just past us slowed down, I guess watching us and wondering what was going on. It seemed like this wing dike went on forever. We we’re paddling as hard as we could and finally passed the end of the wing dike, adrenaline coursing through every vein in our bodies.
It was 1 A.M. Friday morning and we were now resting and laughing as we conceded that the wing dike may have simply been a ripple in the water and maybe we just hallucinated the whole thing. We couldn’t take that chance though; the risk was too great. We paddle on as we see the second of the three bridges and soon a casino. It’s on the wrong side of the river so it’s not our final destination.

We are all really ready for this adventure to end. It’s been a long voyage and we’ve had a great time. Let’s get out of these stupid boats before we fall out and take a nap with fishes. The miles are creeping by and a text from my wife lets me know that we’re behind schedule and I estimate back to her that I think we’ve got about 45 minutes to go. This will put in around 2 A.M. Friday morning.
We’re completely exhausted but we keep paddling as the Ameristar casino and the final bridge at the finish line slowly come into view. I text my wife excitedly, we’ll be in right around 2 A.M. just as I estimated. We see that final blinking blue beacon and know that our journey is finally about to come to a close. We’re too tired and exhausted to be saddened by this. Finally, we’re at the shore line but there’s no dock, just some wood buried in the mud and several amazing volunteers, my wife is there excited to see me, and Dave Beattie, one of my TeamBOR teammates, has come to support me (literally). I can’t stand on my own at this point, but the volunteers know and expect this. One steadies my boat and two other literally pick me up out of my boat and let me rest on the back so I can swing my weary legs out into the water. They haul me up onto the dock as still more volunteers come down the bank to haul my boat up to the waiting area. still can’t stand on my own. So my wife under one arm and Dave under the other slowly help up the steep bank. They let me walk the last few steps to the finish line marker where I’ll get my photo taken by yet another wonderful volunteer. I’m so tired that I forget about my post-race beer plans. I say good bye to my new friends in Boaty McBoat Face as one’s family has shown up to pick him up. The other’s family won’t be there until morning as she is seven months pregnant and doesn’t like night driving. I shake his hand as its time for me to load up and go home to rest. My wife brings the car closer so we can load the kayak and Dave helps me get it onto the kayak cart I made for portaging. Thankfully Dave is there for one last request and helps get the boat up on top of my SUV then he heads out after a very grateful hug from me for his support. I know he has to be to work in about six hours. We get the boat tied down and depart for home.

I vaguely remember eating some QT taquitos with my wet feet hanging out the window and a few stops as my wife needs to rest because she has had even less sleep than I’ve had. We finally make it home to my mother-in-law’s and decide to leave everything in the car and just go inside, somehow manage showers (more likely just standing under the warm water believing to myself that I have somehow managed enough strength to wash) and then off to sleep. We wake up having slept through most of Friday and realize that it’s already 4 P.M. Just enough time to eat something and head back to Frontier Park for the awards ceremony.The race was won this year by a group of 12 women in a very large dragon boat in 48 hours. They even tipped over once. Everyone cheers for them and all the finishers as they are announced one by one. However, no one gets more cheers and certainly no one deserves more cheers than the 120 volunteers and the countless support crews that made this race possible. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart to all those who helped. I also need to thank my wife for being such a wonderful and amazing support crew. Without your watchful care, I’m sure I would have failed. For, even when my strength failed me, you were there to pick me up and tell me what I needed to hear (hard as it was) to keep me going. We finished this race together, one journey on land and one in the river, but still together. My only job was to keep paddling, you did everything else. My journey may have been 340 miles of river, but yours was double that through many dirt and gravel roads lost to all but time in the middle of nowhere often in the dark. I think you deserved that medal just as much as me.

The medals carry a heavy weight to them as they are harder earned than most save for Olympic medals. I wear it with pride and a smile on my face. I finish 340 miles in 67 hours. I’m 54th in the solo kayak division and 115th overall, but my goal was simply to finish. For that I am happy. One final note, when I cleaned up the boat my boat numbers peeled right off. I think that was the boat’s way of telling me no more. So I thank it one last time as I send it back to its owner and thank Neil Dickhaus one more time for allowing me to use his 14-foot Venture Islay kayak. I plan to get mine done for next year’s race because we’ve already decided that we’ll be back for 2017 MR340!