Missouri River 340, July 28 – 31st, 2026
Result
#2341 – On the Piss Again – Mixed Tandem Division
70:12:50, 130th place overall, 9th in Division
Team: Mark Fingerhut, Kirsten McEvoy
Support: Brett Swanstrom, Big Muddy Adventures
Boat: Minnesota 3 canoe
Pre-Race/Prep
After volunteering at boat ramps at last year’s MR340, and loving every second of that, I decided to get back into the race this year. It would be my 8th attempt, and hopefully my 8th finish since my first race in 2010.
In considering what boat I wanted to paddle and who, if anyone, I wanted to paddle with, I think my competitive juices drove some of my thinking. I checked out previous years race results, and noticed the mixed tandem division might be an opportunity to get close to the podium. My very unscientific analysis looked like if a result of 45 to 50 hours could be achieved, that typically led to a podium finish in previous races.
With that in mind, I reached out to my friend Kirsten to ask her to join my team. Kirsten had 2 previous finishes in the 340, both in the Dragon boat division. Always one of the strongest paddlers on our previous dragon teams, she was an easy choice. That and her other hobby is beating the crap out of big men (and I assume some women) in full medieval battle armor.
We had a couple training runs of around 55 miles in a borrowed Minnesota 3 canoe (huge thank you to Jim Hall!), including running the Chain of Rocks at 13ft on the St. Louis gauge. (A buddy Kevin took video of the lively run through the wild waves, and it kind of went viral with lots of lovely and very helpful comments from internet strangers.) We were feeling good going into the race.
My thinking with the Minn 3, a boat designed for 3 people, was that with the extra room in the boat, one of us could easily lay down in the bottom of the boat to sleep while the other paddled. In theory, this would allow us to avoid lengthy stops on shore to sleep and recover. We’d follow the mantra of ‘stay in the boat’.
We recruited our friend Brett, a very experienced MR340 racer as our ground support and we were set. As a river guide with Big Muddy Adventures, I was super lucky to have their team’s support for the race, including accommodation in KC for me and my team, transport to KC for me and the boat, and extra hands at the boat ramps all the way to St. Charles. Love all you guys and thanks so much for your support!
The Race
Monday in Kansas City was hot. According to the morning weather guy, the first day temps would hit 100 degrees in 3 years. I spent the day at the Big Muddy booth, helping out with our rental fleet and setting up borrowers with their boats and the necessary gear for their races. I was pounding water constantly.
After our traditional pre-race Woodyard BBQ meal with some KC friends, we turned in, ready for the 5am wake up call.
We arrived at Kaw point in cool weather and slight drizzle, an amazing relief to yesterday’s heat. Kirsten and I got our boat and gear set. Getting ready to put in down at the confluence point, I noticed a woman sitting by the shore starting to have a seizure. I yelled down to my Big Muddy coworker Pete, who was assisting boaters into the water, to check on her. He did so, then immediately told me to get help. So I ran back to the main ramp and grabbed Perry and Big Muddy Mike, who came running down to assist. Eventually a medic was called and everything worked out fine. A little excitement before hitting the water.
We loaded in and visited with a bunch of friends waiting at the starting line for the 8am start. I absolutely love this time right before the start, slap happy nervous energy, seeing folks you haven’t seen in years, wishing them well, sharing a laugh all while knowing what pain and misery is in store.
We took off among the crowd, always taking the far left route at the confluence to avoid the congestion lower down, and hitting the fast current of the Missouri sooner. There’s always a temptation to really sprint at this point in the race, naturally you want to be in front of the larger crowd and establish a good start. But we paddled swift and steady and comfortably, again spotting friends in other boats and greeting them here and there.
It was a pretty typical first day compared with my previous 7 races. The clouds and rain in the morning slowly gave way to sun in the afternoon, the temps being quite comfortable, a godsend after Monday. We worked our way through downtown KC, La Benite, on to Sibley, Cooley Lake, passing Napoleon around 1:30pm. I could tell the current was much slower than it had been 2 or 3 weeks earlier when the water was around 10 ft higher on the MO, but I didn’t start doing any math or expectations setting yet. We passed Lexinton around 3:30pm then pulled into Waverly at 6:50pm.
Kirsten showed some signs of distress when we pulled in. It might have been the deceiving nature of the heat and humidity, or potentially some nutrition related effects. Big Muddy Mike stepped in to help her recover a bit, and after a resupply of food and drinks, we were back out after 25 minutes.
I calculated our arrival at Miami at midnight and sure enough arrived at 11:57pm, really enjoying paddling through sunset, twilight and moonrise. About an hour before arrival in Miami, Kirsten agreed to take the first shift to try to sleep in the boat. Our rough plan was that she’d sleep before Miami, then at Miami, she would take over stern paddling, I’d switch to the bow and I’d have a chance to sleep a bit between Miami and Glasgow. She lifted herself back over the front seat and laid on a sleeping pad in the spacious bottom of the Minn 3. She tried to sleep, but I could tell from her regular fidgeting that she wasn’t sleeping. It also didn’t help that she would have to climb back in the seat to pee, then climb back into sleeping position. At one point, I even led her through a sleep-inducing hypnosis technique I know, but to no avail, she wasn’t sleeping.
Getting into Miami, we were both feeling pretty good, and were there only 10 minutes, getting resupplied and some words of encouragement from a crew of Big Muddy Adventures friends, who were there supporting another Big Muddy team of Roo, Natalie and Eliza. I hopped in the bow and Kirsten took over stern. I made sure she was comfortable with the ruddering and navigating via the RaceOwl channel tracking app before I went ahead and laid down for a nap. I was able to sleep for about a half hour and felt somewhat refreshed.
Eventually, it became very evident that Kirsten was getting super sleepy, the inability to nap earlier in the boat was a problem. We tried singing some tunes, delving into deeper conversations, spending a few minutes chatting with other boats as we passed them or they passed us, but I was losing the battle to try to keep her awake. She was consuming caffeine drinks, but they didn’t seem to be working. I asked her if we needed to pull over to the side so I could again take over stern, and perhaps she could once again try to sleep in the boat but she insisted she’d be fine.
Looking ahead to our ramps, we were due to hit Dalton Bottoms around 4am and Glasgow around 6am. We decided to push on to Glasgow vs. stopping to swap positions again at Dalton Bottoms, Kirsten insisting she could push on to get us to Glasgow. Feeling like I needed a bit more sleep, I laid down in the boat once again, Kirsten insisting she’d be fine. As I was laying there, I could tell her mind was devolving. She was humming tunes to herself to stay awake, talking to herself, encouragement to stay awake. I think even at some point she was reliving or playing out work conversations. Her mind state was very concerning to me but she was keeping the boat moving down the river. At one point I think I dozed off, then opened my eyes to see the moon above me in quite a different spot. Thinking I’d been asleep for a long time, I raised my head and looked over to see the lights of two boats passing us in the opposite direction.
Me: “Hey uh, are we uh, going upstream?”
Kirsten: “Oh, yeah I think so, hold on.”
She was able to turn the boat to get back facing downstream. But that was it, I had enough. I got back in the seat, and immediately, I began scanning the shore with our light to find a place to pull over. I told her it wasn’t safe for us to be out here with her condition. Eventually we pulled into a wing-dyked cove with a pretty decent sand mound. I helped her out of the boat, then told her to lay on the sleeping pad on the sand to sleep. She was reluctant and wanted to continue, but I was firm. So I also took the opportunity to sleep, and we both slept on the sand from about 5am to 6am. With the morning sunrise, we got back in the boat and sluggishly made our way to Glasgow, arriving at 7:50am, paddling in with my good buddy Shane on his brand new self-crafted Timber Longboard SUP. It looked like he was suffering and ended up DNFing at Glasgow.
Thankfully, Big Muddy Mike had moved down to Glasgow and was there to provide medical assessment to Kirsten. I told him what our night had been like, her mental state, and that we did get some sleep. We had some food, refilled drinks and feeling like we had a good hour of sleep under our belts, decided to push on, leaving Glasgow at 8:44am.
I was feeling relatively good at this point, not overly exhausted and felt like I was hydrating and consuming calories sufficiently. I don’t think Kirsten was in the same place. She once again decided to lay in the boat to try to nap, but quickly decided it wasn’t going to work and hopped back in the seat. After that, despite my best efforts of singing loudly and making conversation, she started falling asleep repeatedly. It would go like this: I’d see her paddle stroke start to slow down, sometimes entirely missing the water with her canoe blade. She’d then start to lean, on her way to falling out of the boat. At that point, I would yell “HEY” quite sharply to snap her back to attention. One minute later, repeat the same. This happened no less than 20 times between Glasgow and Franklin Island. She unfortunately did not want to lay back down in the bottom of the boat to try to sleep.
We pulled into Franklin Island at 2:46pm, and she immediately laid down on a blanket Brett had set up. I told Brett we were staying there for a minimum of 2 hours, then after that, we’d see how she’s feeling. I took a quick nap, waking up to a pleasant surprise of my good friend Dan the Can Man and epic adventurer friend Neal Moore. After only about 45 minutes, I saw Kirsten groggily rise and I pretty firmly, maybe somewhat rudely told her to go back to sleep, please!
After a little more sleep, she woke up and told me and Brett she was done. She didn’t get good rest trying to nap there at Franklin, and I was pretty insistent that it wasn’t safe for her or me out on the river with her present condition. She didn’t feel confident in being able to get back to a steady or rested state with more time at Franklin. So that was that, either our race was over, or I was going to push on in a 3-man canoe by myself.
Kirsten remains in my mind a stellar paddler, a complete badass woman, a great MR340 partner, a true adventurer down for anything. I have no regrets about having her as a partner. We got dealt some pretty rough conditions with the heat and slower than expected current. She persevered, pushing her mind and body to the limit, but it just wasn’t to be this year. I appreciate you, Kirsten! You’ll be back again to complete the 340.
Continuing Solo
We were just about at the halfway point of the race, distance wise. My partner was out. I could be out. What kind of a terrible idea is it to paddle a 20 foot lightweight canoe, designed for 3 people, by oneself the remaining 170 miles of the race. I had finished my 7 previous attempts at the MR340, never DNFing. I’ve faced some very dire situations in my previous years, and this was now one of them. Selfishly, I wanted to keep my record of no DNFs in tact. So now it was time to figure out how I was getting to the finish. By the rules of the 340, you must complete the race in the same boat, cannot swap in a new paddler, and a paddler who has dropped cannot later re-enter the boat. How would I need to set up my boat so that I could navigate it solo?
Well, let me tell you about my buddy Neal Moore. A couple years ago, he solo paddled a tandem canoe across 22 US rivers over 2 years, from Astoria, Oregon to the Statue of Liberty. (This legendary trip will be available soon as a book written by Neal, and I cannot wait to read it.) Neal might be the most uniquely qualified person in the world to assist me in this current moment, and there he was at Franklin Island, a convergence of epic river magic.
Neal helped me, Brett and Dan figure out how to add weight to the front of the boat to keep it trimmed out without the weight of Kirsten in the front. We decided on a full 5 gallon water jug, then located about 7 or 8 football-sized stones from the bank rip rap. I laid the sleeping pad in the front of the boat to protect the kevlar from the rocks. Floating the boat at the bottom of the ramp, I was happy with the trim, as were my observers on shore. I bid farewell to my team and was back out at 3:44pm to tackle the remaining 170 miles solo.
From Franklin down to Rocheport to the Manitou Bluffs down through California Island, Eagle Bluffs then into Cooper’s Landing is probably my favorite stretch of the race. It’s a mini conglomeration of so many features of the entire river: huge bends, towering bluffs, wind-swept straightaways, sprawling sandbars, topped off by a raucous party at Coopers. I settled into a comfortable pace, about 1mph slower, rocks not being able to paddle as efficiently as Kirsten. With my new setup, I was consistently being passed by other paddlers, so it was really fun to chat with them as they passed, some wondering why I was paddling this huge boat by myself.
I stopped at Cooper’s for a quick re-supply at 8:23pm. I was energized by seeing a bunch of friends, Big Muddy compadres, and was even sang Happy Birthday (guess I didn’t mention day 2 of the MR340 was my 46th) from the ramp as I paddled back out into the current. Can’t say my eyes were dry at that moment…
I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to make it all the way to Jeff City without needing to sleep, but I was sure there were sandbars I could stop at for some sleep. Directly across from the Marion access, I located a great sandbar, pulled my boat in, slapped down the sleeping pad and was out quickly. I slept from around 11pm to 1am, waking up pretty dang refreshed. 2nd night in a row sleeping on the sand. Pretty sure I’m now a convert for future MR340s. Crowded, loud, chaotic boat ramp naps are out; spacious, silent, pristine sandbars are in!
I reached Jeff City at 4:22am and was delighted to see my good friend Bernie Arnold faithfully working the ramp. I loaded up with more food, water and was off into the approaching sunrise. Jeff City to Mokane can be monotonous, but I really enjoyed it, taking in the emerging light of the day, having a great conversation with Richard (10 MR340s in a row in the same boat, finishing in the 40, 50, 60, 70 and 80 hours ranges, that’s incredible!) Caught up with my local STL paddling buddy Kevin who updated me on the status of a lot of our other Creve Coeur Lake paddle friends. I was shocked at the number of them who had to DNF already. I had a small sense of pride I’d decided to push on – maybe it wasn’t an idiotic idea. I passed Mokane then stopped for a morning constitutional on a mud bank, only to realize I left my belt PFD sitting on the front seat of the boat, while I was sitting 18 feet behind it. Luckily, just then a nice fellow Will from KC pulled up and he was able to hand my PFD back to me. We then shared some miles and great conversation, him learning of the race by being near Kaw Point at the start last year, going to see what the crowd was about, then entering the race the very next year. Amazing.
By around 1pm, I was approaching Hermann and experienced my first significant headwind in the solo portion of my race. I quickly learned that handing this big light boat solo in a headwind requires much more effort, stressing my already aching muscles, lowering my speed by 1 to 1.5 more mph, and generally frustrating the hell out of me.
I pulled into Hermann, and very logically told Brett and now on the support role Kirsten, that I was going to check the wind forecast. If it looked to be sustained headwinds for the next few hours, I was likely out of the race, or at the very least waiting until the wind died down. I wasn’t emotional about it, it was a simple logical choice. Paddling in the headwinds would push me to the point of exhaustion, adding many hours to the journey, to the end goal of proving what, that I was such an awesome paddler that I finish every 340 that I start? Fuck that, I don’t have to prove anything to anyone! Did I mention your mind space gets really screwed up out there??
Just then Mark Malko, head river guide at Big Muddy showed up, and I asked his professional opinion about the wind forecast. He had a more detailed wind app than I, and told me it looked like there would be headwind for a bit, but I could expect shifting directions in the stretch from Hermann to New Haven down to Washington. Silently, not the answer I wanted to hear. I was really ready to quit, and I had the built in excuse of failing to solo paddle a 3-man boat into gnarly headwinds. People would understand and wouldn’t think less of me. Again, fucked up mindspace.
So I took a quick 30 min nap, downed half a burger and jumped back in the boat, added a couple more stones to the front of the boat to try to keep the nose lower profile in the wind. This was the home stretch, having paddled stretches from here to the finish dozens and dozens of times in my life.
I soon started cursing Mark Malko for giving me the information that got me back out here. After Berger Bend, the wind returned, pushing me sideways whenever I took a moment’s rest from paddling. And getting the boat turned back into the wind took every bit a strength I had.
At what was certainly my lowest point of my race, my buddy Bryan paddled up to me with his partner, asking how it was going.
Me: “Shitty. This sucks. I fucking hate this.”
Bryan: “But you’re gonna finish.”
He handed me some caffiend Gu and paddled off. Goddammit Bryan, you asshole, you turned it around for me right there, 4 words was all it took. I realized he was right. No easy way out, I was going to finish. Things really improved from there. I needed motivation, which can only be provided by putting on NOFX’s classic punk rock opera The Decline, a 17 minute heart pounding anthem, of which I know every word. I didn’t care a lick who else heard me screaming this song, the blood was flowing and I was back in the game.
Approaching New Haven, who do I see paddling upstream on SUPs but my ride or dies Shane and Dan. We recounted our race experiences so far, with Shane recovering from his Glasgow DNF and Dan working overnight on the ramps. At New Haven, Shane’s lady friend Becky and Neal were there to ply me with cold coffee and Pepsi. From here on in, I was going to need a steady flow of caffeine. The headwind continued to Washington, but I was motivated and made good progress, even if I could tell my brain was still foggy.
I pulled into Washington at 8:31pm and was delighted to see my Washington mainstays Pat Tenny and Judy Feltmann. I told Kirsten and Malko and I needed significant sleep and they of course understood and were accommodating. By this point, Brett had to leave support duties to travel out of town, so handed off to Kirsten. She had retrieved her minivan, so set me up on the mattress in the back of her van, pumping the AC while I slept for 2 hours.
I woke up at 11pm, felt my mind had cleared up, was good physically and was ready to finish this thing. Leaving Washington, who do I meet but Ryan from Kansas City, who was also paddling a tandem canoe solo, his bow also filled with rocks and sand! We shared the stories of how we both got to this point, me realizing that I wasn’t the only one going through this unique challenge and suffering, Ryan having done this from even further up at Miami, where his partner dropped due to back issues. We pulled into Klondike and were greeted by my good paddling friends Bob, Cora and Myron, and of course ice cold Klondike bars. Such an amazing and unique perk from this legendary paddle stop, thank you guys so much.
Ryan and I took off again. A solo canoe paddled up to us, and I didn’t realize at first I was chatting with my good friend David Falterman. I’ve known David, his legendary sister Ellen, and have met their amazing parents a couple times over the years. I was delighted to catch up with him and hear his updates and encouragement. He also made me realize that I’d get to experience one more sunrise before the finish, which motivated me to make it through the darkest hours of the night, knowing I was getting a bonus 3rd sunrise on the river, something I didn’t anticipate going into the race. A silver lining to the unique challenges presented so far.
I hit all the familiar sites coming into Chesterfield and St. Charles, having a 4am conversation with my departed friend Aaron Duenke at Johnson Island. I know he’d laugh his ass off at what a predicament I got myself into, but I know he’d also be urging me on to finish. Miss you, friend.
I was ingesting a lot of caffeine on this stretch, the Gu Bryan had given me, the Pepsi, a Coke from Judy at Washington. With the last 2 bridges to go, I probably ill-advisedly washed down 2 ibuprofen with Coke, but I needed to fuel the final sprint. I paddled alongside Mark from Kirkwood, then started my closing sprint at the 364 bridge, screaming more punk rock and fully pumped with adrenaline. Don’t even ask me what my heart rate was at this point, I was going to finish this thing. I sprinted into the finish, arriving at 6:12am, 70 hours and 12 minutes.
Kirsten was there, as was Kent Schmidt working the ramp. Kent donated a massive amount of cash to my fundraising effort, and I was delighted to be able to properly thank him for his generosity. As we moved my boat out of the water, I chucked the rocks from my bow into the ballast pile Ryan from KC had started after finishing a few minutes ahead of me. We congratulated each other on finding a way to complete this thing with ingenuity and grit in trying circumstances, taking a picture with our ballast rocks and deeming ourselves The Ballast Brothers.
I also had a great moment with Big Muddy Mike, who congratulated me on sticking it out. I told him how much I appreciated his care for Kristen during the race, and just being there for us seemingly on every ramp, somehow. I can’t describe how lucky I feel to be a part of the Big Muddy family.
Kirsten brought me a cold beer, we took a picture under the finish line banner, then she drove me home to my bed. Every year I’ve done this race, there is a new challenge, a new set of problems to be solved, a new series of obstacles to overcome to get to the finish. I don’t care to be seen as a beast who finished the second half of the race solo. That absolutely wasn’t happening but for the support I received at so many points along the way. My finish belongs to those people, my appreciation to every one of you/them will last forever. So thank you, sincerely. And now this post is almost as long as my race, so I’ll leave it there.
Odds and Ends
I ended up paddling almost exactly 170 miles with Kirsten in about 30 hours, the next 170 miles solo in about 40 hours.
My nutrition this year was pretty different from my mostly solid food plan of years past. Most of my calories were in the form of Heul powder meal replacement shakes. 2 or 3 times a day, I mixed an 800 calorie portion which kept me hunger-less for a few hours. (For advice to fellow racers, you absolutely MUST consume what you will be consuming on the race BEFORE THE RACE. Do not attempt any new regimen or product during the race, or you will fuck yourself up, guaranteed.) I supplemented this with bananas, fruit snacks, uncrustables, a couple ramp sandwiches here and there. But the nutritional MVP for me was boiled peanuts. I shit you not. My good friend Zach Smith boils his own nuts, and not only that, seasons them with Red Hot Riplet seasoning. Throughout the race, I’d pop some nuts into my mouth, extract the soft salty nectar and enjoy the protein-packed morsel before feeding the shells to the catfish and carp who live down below. I highly recommend Zach’s Briney brand boiled peanuts as an endurance paddling essential. Thank you Zach, you have great nuts!
SYOTR
Paddle St. Louis 