Day One
Aside from the part where I had to get up at 5:00 am I have to say the start of this year's MR 340 was very smooth. So smooth as to be uneventful in fact. The weather was perfect, the ramp wasn't crowded, we hadn't forgotten anything. We checked the radios while they were paddling around waiting for the start. At 8:00 am there was the singing of the national anthem, a countdown and a cannon shot and there they all went. I drove away feeling like this was going to be a relatively easy race. I later heard that as many as 5 boats had flipped during the start but saw nothing of the sort.
Before they make it to the first checkpoint, I get a text. Mike has dropped the radio into the river. Twice. The second time was fatal. That's going to be a problem when we get out in the boonies where the phones don't work. We're going to need a plan B.
2:16 pm. The boys don't even stop at the Lexington checkpoint. I sign them in as they cruise past, 3rd in the team division and only 1 minute behind the second place boat. Things are running like clockwork.
In Waverly, I get a great parking spot right near the ramp and set up to feed the guys. Julie and Stacy, who left Kansas City a little later in the day, catch up there just minutes before the guys pull in at 5:19 pm. Everybody eats and we chat a bit about the night one plan. To meet our goals of shaving 24 hours off of last year's time and placing in the top 3 we absolutely have to make it to Miami tonight and Glasgow would be better. While we are talking it over we lose a spot as the fourth place boat does not stop at Waverly. Patrick is starting to favor his right wrist a bit. It's been causing him problems since a training run months earlier and may need surgery. He's opted to put that off and go ahead with the race. We load the wrist up with tape and Patrick up with Ibuprofen and kick them back into boat. At 5:53 they're heading to Miami. That stop was a little too long but overall things are going very well.
Thankfully I have the girls to help me pack up now so there's a lot less rushing around. We get to Miami and set up for another meal and stake out a camp site that we may or may not need. I get a text, Patrick's wrist is getting bad. Bad enough he's thinking of pulling out at Miami. If that happens, Mike and Jeff can go on, but are officially disqualified. It seems very clear to all of us on the ground that they need to stop here in Miami and sleep on it. We try to get a decision from the boat so we can set up camp before they get there. They are determined to press on to Glasgow against our better judgement.
Waiting in Miami
When they arrive at 10:15 Patrick's forearm is so swolllen Popeye would give it a double take. Again we suggest they stay, but still in fourth place, they opt to press on. More tape, more ibuprofen and at 11:03 they leave for Glasgow. I tell them we'll be sleeping and to call when they get close so I can get up and go bring them in.
We're going to need more tape.
What I had forgotten from last year is that cellular technology has yet to reach Glasgow Missouri. Too bad their radio is at the bottom of the river. There isn't much we can do other than make camp and pass out. Hopefully they will find the checkpoint and their tents.
4:24 am. They manage to find us and make just enough noise for Stacy to wake up. She gets up and helps get them settled in. She is even sweet enough not to wake Julie and I. Finally, it's lights out on day one.
Day Two
Julie and I are up at 7:30. We let Stacy sleep in since she took the night shift. We get some coals started so we can get breakfast going. I run to the nearby Casey's for 4 cups of coffee and a bottle of Ibuprofen. There is nowhere to buy athletic tape around here.
The guys are up by 8:15 having slept maybe 3 1/2 hours. Patrick's right arm looks like a watermelon. Yes it's green. I don't know how much longer he can hold out. They have a nice hot breakfast and take some more food to go. More tape, and this time we send the Ibuprofen bottle with Mike. At 8:50 they put in for Katfish Katy's, still in fourth place.
We take our time breaking camp. We won't need to be at Katfishs Katy's until mid afternoon. Around noon we touch base with the boys, they're going to need more ibuprofen. Mike dropped the bottle in the river.
Katfish Katy's is a long hot wait. It's a nice place, but there isn't a square inch of shade anywhere. Nothing to do but sit and bake.
Decisions decisions
3:40 pm. The guys finally make it in a bit later than expected. They are slowing down due to Patrick's arm, which is now black and starting to smell, and have slid back to 5th place. Quite a bit of dead flesh and a couple of fingers come off with the old tape. We re-wrap it and give him a handful of ibuprofen. Stacy and Julie give the boys a lunch to go and I confiscate everything of Mike's that isn't tied down. The fourth place boat is still sitting on the ramp so we shove them back in with only a 15 minute break to reclaim 4th and head on to Jefferson City.
At this point in the story, I should clarify something. It wasn't so clear during the race what place we were in. As I write this up now, I have the benefit of the official race results. At the time, we thought we may well be battling for 3rd instead of 4th as we had lost track of one of the teams and thought they may be behind us. In reality, as the boys left Katfish Katy's with the 5th place boat still on the ramp, they were 2 hours and 7 minutes behind the third place boat. That is not an amount of time you realistically make up in a race like this. Especially when one of your paddler's has a mild case of zombieism. As I said, however, we didn't know that. So we still felt quite a sense of urgency about staying ahead of that one boat we could see.
Living in Kansas City, I often lose site of just how rural Missouri can be. After two days of backwoods boat ramps the Jefferson City checkpoint is quite an oasis of civilization. It's like pulling up to the Wilshire in Beverly Hills.
We pulled up to the valet station and handed over the keys to both cars. Half a dozen bellhops pull our gear out and start hauling it over toward the beach. I slip the Maitre d' a twenty and ask him to put us some place shady.
While the bellhops are setting up our gear, I take a stroll down to the ramp to check out the tiki bar. The girls opt for the massage tent.
Julie and Stacy embracing the luxury
By the time we meet back up, the live music is starting and the sun is setting and you can tell that it's going to be one fantastic party. We have to get the guys to stop here for camp instead of pressing on to Hermann. We camped in Hermann last year and it's right next to the world's busiest, (and loudest) train tracks. We wouldn't sleep a wink there.
So the texting begins. We plead with them to camp here instead of Hermann. Logically, sleeping four hours now and paddling six hours later puts you ultimately at the same place at the same time as paddling six more hours now and sleeping four hours later. If anything, a little rest before that paddling will put you farther. More importantly, good sleep has to be better than bad railroad sleep, right? While this may sound like a no brainer, you try explaining it to boat full of dazed paddlers. Their brains get overheated out there and logic is lost on them. All they can do is fixate on simple concepts like MUST PADDLE ON. So we'll just give them dinner here and get them back in the water.
It's 9:09 pm when they arrive. Now the only thing left of Patrick's right forearm is about 8 inches of bone protruding from the elbow. The wrist and hand are completely gone and I'm pretty sure there is usually another bone in the forearm. We no longer have any choice. We'll have to tape a paddle to it.
"What do you mean we're out of tape?" We're going to need a plan... uhh, what plan are we up to now? Plan L or something.
Luckily, Jeff's backpack has a workbench, generator and several power tools in it. Luckier than that, Patrick is too out of it to know what's going on. I grab a belt sander and flatten two sides of the protruding bone to give it as much of a paddle shape as possible. Stacy makes a last plea for them to stay and sleep a bit but they aren't having it. They eat quickly and pull out for Hermann. It looks like Patrick's arm bone paddle is too narrow to be of any real use but it's SUPER funny to watch. Maybe that will at least help keep Mike and Jeff going.
Julie gives a quick nod to the Maitre d' and with a snap of his fingers camp is packed and the valets are pulling up. Tonight, we sleep with the trains.
Driving from Jefferson City to Hermann at night is a lot like riding Space Mountain at the end of a long day at Disney World when you were a kid. You're in the dark being violently tossed around by hills and curves. You can't see a thing and you're so exhausted you can hardly keep your eyes open. Terror is the only thing keeping you awake. The only thing separating this drive from Space Mountain is that it lasts an hour and I manage not to throw up.
About halfway there we hit the fog. We're lucky, it isn't really on the road. It's creeping up from the river and the guys are heading straight into it. We need to warn them but, of course, no signal. By the time we get to Hermann and our phones are working they are already well aware. We make a quick camp and get some sleep.
Out on the river the guys have hit the serious fog. The kind of movie fog that no one leaves alive. They can't see the water or the ends of their paddles and the screams are getting louder, drawing near. They are going so slow now that it's pointless to continue. This time would be better spent sleeping, plus Mike has to poop. It's time to pull off. How they managed to find a suitable mud bank in that soup we'll never know, but they did. Mike was able to trundle up a few feet and do his business and Patrick started doodling bunnies in the mud with his arm bone paddle while Jeff felt around on his hands and knees for firewood. It was 2:30 in the morning when my phone rang.
"We're socked in halfway to Hermann and had to pull off."
Well, we told you to camp at Jeff city. I get up and head down to the ramp to see if I can get any information about the fog. As it turns out, there isn't really a lot of information about fog to get. It's fog. A couple of boats had been by and reported that yes, there is fog. Helpful. I call Mike back and tell him there really isn't anything I can do for him other than send a safety boat but that will likely result in a disqualification. They're going to have to deal with it and sleep where they are. I'm going back to bed.
It's getting cold and wet out there on the mud bank. Luckily, the boys had packed emergency blankets, rain ponchos and fire starters for just such an occaision. Unluckily, they didn't think they'd need them and left them all in the truck. It's no small miracle that Mike and Jeff get a fire going by rubbing a stick and Patrick's arm bone paddle together.
In these conditions a campfire will draw paddlers as easily as moths and soon they are joined by a tandem and a single. I'm omitting their names here because on that cold night in the fog there was a lot of man-spooning for warmth. The kind of snuggling that most men never dare speak of again.
Then, as everyone else is fading into fitful sleep, Jeff notices an awful smell right next to his head.
"Damnit Mike!"
"Sorrrrry"
Day Three
They say every cloud has a silver lining and this fog, being essentially a cloud, is no different. Aside from the one brief interruption, it allowed the ground crew a full night's sleep. We were so tired the trains didn't wake us.
The boys leave their muddy home at daybreak but the fog is slow to yield. It's 9:47 when they finally make the ramp at Hermann. Here we have hot breakfasts and hose showers for all. Mike and Patrick catch another hour of sleep while Jeff paces impatiently. At 11:45 the boys put in for Klondike, the last checkpoint before the finish. We're now bringing up the rear in the team division, but not by much.
The boat ramp at Klondike turns out to be under 10 feet of mud. It's barely suitable as a checkpoint at all. There are few spots to land a boat and the only way to service the crew is going to involve trudging up and down a slippery mud mountain. I don't want them to stop here. After a few texts it's clear that they want very much to stop, so now the tables are turned. I don't blame them, it's a very long stretch from Hermann to Klondike and if you're out of water you're out of water. It's too bad though because the 4th place boat is just sitting here and if they had the juice to skip this stop they could pick up a spot. At least that's what I thought before I realized how much they were slowing down. They didn't make it in until 6:17, 12 minutes after the 4th place boat departed. Dinner, water. We'll see you at the finish line.
In St Charles, Jeff's wife Sarah has checked in to the hotel and there are showers waiting for us. Wonderful showers. We get cleaned up and have a real dinner at the local brew pub.
Ha, those poor bastards are still out there paddling.
Sheri arrives to surprise Patrick at the finish. As the boys draw closer we load up a cooler with beer and Jager and head down to the finish line to greet them.
Left to Right; Sheri, Sarah, Julie and Stacy
In their continuing efforts to foil good finish line video by finishing in the dark, they cruise in at 10:35. We're already half drunk. They catch up with us quickly.
Ok, I may have embellished a bit about the arm.
So how did we do? Well, we didn't place. The Paddlephiles came in 5th out of 5 teams, 44 minutes out of fourth place and 3 hours 24 minutes from placing in the top 3. We also didn't' quite take a full 24 hours off of last year's time of 83 hours 3 minutes. We got pretty close though, finishing in 62 hours 35 minutes. That's still 20 hours and 28 minutes faster than last year. It's a bittersweet realization that had we met the goal to cut 24 hours, we would have placed 3rd by 6 minutes.
Now of course we've recovered from the whole ordeal and Patrick is adjusting nicely to his new robot hand. I can only assume we'll be back next year in one form or another. I'm not sure what the rules say about robot hands.
Stay tuned for a whole bunch of photos and even a few movies as the Paddlephiles adventure continues.
