Atchafalaya River, Mile 46 – Almost There

Sitting here at the Riverview RV Resort, which is the last vestige of civilization before entering the vast Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge. Nothing but swamps from here to the Gulf. No sign of gators yet, we’ll see if that changes.

The Atch has been very beautiful so far, but it is pretty slow compared to the Mississippi. If there is any current at all, it is maybe half or 1mph. If I ain’t paddling, I ain’t moving. I covered around 26 miles so far this morning from my slopeside campsite. It started out clear this morning, but then the fog rolled in, and I was paddling with around 1/10 of a mile visibility. Barges aren’t really prevalent on this river, so I felt safe enough. And I stayed within sight of the bank in order to make sure I’m still going downstream. Ask me how I know to make sure you are paddling downstream.

Since I last posted, it’s been a fantastic week of lower Mississippi paddling, Tons of sandbars, even more barges, a fantastic afternoon/evening in Vicksburg complete with food, beer and a hotel room – shower most importantly. A day and a half later, I made it to Natchez, where I spent some quality time at a few establishments “Under the Hill”, the area that in its past was notorious for debauchery, criminality, in other words, where all the fun was happening in riverboat times past. I sat down next to a nice guy named Gene at the Old Magnolia grill, who was heavily invested in the Ole Miss/Oklahoma football game. I cheered along with him to an Ole Miss win, then after, he offered to drive me up the hill to Natchez Brewery where I scored a couple crowlers of their finest swill. Tasted amazing on the sandbar that night. Speaking of that night, I saw storms in the forecast, but didn’t assume anything severe, so I picked a campsite out in the middle of a sandbar instead of somewhere more sheltered. Well buddy. Around 11:30pm, it started storming. Rain, thunder, lightning – luckily the wind wasn’t insane or my tent probably wouldn’t have held. My tent being of quality material, but well-travelled, the roof leaks, so MacGyver over here put up the umbrella inside the tent to deflect water off to the side versus on me. It worked pretty well, I slept for a few hours in the fetal position under the umbrella, and only ended up with an inch of water at the low side of the tent in the morning.

I entered the Atchafalaya River system yesterday morning when I made a right off the Mississippi and went through the Old River Lock. This system of locks and diversion structures actually channels 1/3 of the Mississippi River flow into the Atch. Hard to tell, as there’s been not a bit of current as of yet. I’ve read a lot about the Old River Lock system, and how massive and critical a piece of infrastructure this is. Without this lock system, the Mississippi River would assume the Atch basin as its natural course, and the Mississippi through New Orleans as we know it today would be reduced to a trickle. The resulting effect on shipping, industry and America’s economy, to say nothing of New Orleans’ fate, would be disastrous. So the Army Corp of Engineers maintains the lock system to ensure the Mississippi stays where it is. In flood years of the recent past, the Old River Lock system has been in serious jeopardy of failing. And there’s no putting the genie back in the bottle. Once the river goes where it wants, there’s no going back to what was. So we hope against hope that the Old River Lock keeps doing what it’s doing, the government budgets a not enough amount to maintain the system, though the river is undefeated so far since the beginning of time.

In about 50 miles, I will pull off the Atchafalaya and enter 6 Mile Lake, then a man-made diversion channel. Then I’ll get into Hog Bayou, where a meandering channel will take me the last few miles to the Gulf and to Burns Point, where I’ll end my journey.

As I mentioned previously, I do have a bit of regret that I am on a timetable for this trip. A trip like this should be done open-ended, leaving time to explore, take a relaxing day off on a huge sandbar, stop into towns and learn as much about their rich histories as possible. This has been a paddle-heavy trip for me, probably averaging about 45 miles a day. Just the nature of how the trip came about and other assorted logistics. Alas, any river travel is second to nothing in terms of adventures in my book, but I don’t consider myself a paddle racer first and foremost. I live for long meandering expeditions and deep exploration and spending time with the people and at places along the river.

Pretty soon, I’ll be at home, it will be freezing outside, I’ll be thrust back into the realities of a civilized existence, so I am going to soak up every second and every paddle stroke of these last few days. I thank you all sincerely for reading. I will likely share some more reflections after the trip. For now, I’m going to drink a few more cold beers, wait for it to cool off, and maybe get back on the river for a few more miles before the Lousiana storms roll in tonight.

See you all down the river.

On Paddling into a Headwind – Greenville, Mississippi

Sitting at Warfield Riverfront Park just outside Greenville, MS on a grey misty morning. I wanted to get to this park last night to camp, but in hindsight, I think a pristine sandbar was a better choice. It’s fine, it’s got designated campsites, electric, water and bathrooms, but seems pretty muddy and dank compared to a nice sandy beach. Plus all these trees and pavilions give me a little claustrophobia after living on the wide open sandbars for the last 20ish days.

I got a bit of rain and some lightning from 4am til about 7:30 this morning, so got a little later start than normal, but the wind promises to be calmer and maybe even a little tailwind today, so am gonna get back out there for more miles after charging up some batteries.

Wanted to give a bit more description of yesterday’s paddle day with stiff headwinds all day, and what that means to a big river paddler. Three days ago, the headwind was likely 20 – 20mph, which at that point, even with hard paddling, you are unlikely to make more than 1 to 2mph paddling hard, and that’s slower than the current. So best not to be paddling in that. Yesterday, with 10 – 15mph headwinds, I could still make decent progress with hard paddling, maybe 4-5mph, where with no wind, I’d probably be doing 5-6mph. So it was doable, not enough to take the day off.

When paddling into that 10-15mph headwind, you are going to see whitecaps. In my boat, those waves rarely splash over into my cockpit, so I have yet to don the skirt that would cover my lower body and keep the water out of the cockpit. Most of the time, I am gauging where the wind is blowing from, then try to find the most sheltered part of the river to paddle in to minimize the stiff wind in my face and paddling into waves. If the river is bending, you paddle over to the side that is somewhat sheltered from the wind and you find calmer water, theoretically. Of course the sides of the river tend to be where the slower water is, so there’s that tradeoff. Then once the bend ends, you need to cross the river to the other side, where you might find more sheltered water, and you deal with the worst of the waves and current out in the middle of the river, all while watching for passing barges.

You also cannot stop paddling, lest your boat turns sideways and now you are being pushed upstream, actually losing miles. My last 3 hours of paddling yesterday was on a straight section of river, thus no curves or banks to block the wind, it was hard paddling straight into the waves. My shoulders and arms were cooked come 5:30pm.

For better or worse, probably worse, I did put a hard cap on my finish date on this trip, which is Oct. 30th at the Gulf. There I will meet someone to drive me and my boat back to New Orleans where I’ll rendezvous with the national community of Hash House Harriers for some halloween weekend debauchery and running. So I am motivated to get miles each day, minimize time off the river wherever possible and keep making progress.

One other interesting phenomenon I noticed the last couple days. When paddling, what seems like very far of in the distance is a huge mid-river sandbar. Not that unusual, the from what seems like a distance of 5+ miles, the sandbar looks immense – like 8 – 10 feet high and a perfectly rounded shape. After a couple minutes of paddling, you soon realize that sandbar is only about 1 mile away, and it’s only about a foot high. Barely out of the water. Not a great idea to camp on these guys, as you’re likely to get swamped by a big barge wake, or heaven forbid you get a foot rise in the river level overnight.

My next town I plan to stop at is Vicksburg, MS, around 98 miles downstream. By then I will have left Arkansas and will be in the great state of Lousiana. Onward and downward, with hopefully a nice tailwind.

PS – as I was sitting here typing, a friendly camper came over and handed me a bag of sandwiches, donuts, snacks and drinks and told me God bless when I told here where I was headed. Doesn’t look like any beer, but I’ll take what I can get. River angels provide.

A Windy Day for Hunkerin Down

I’ve been back on the river for 6 days since my visit to St. Louis. In that time I’ve paddled 216 miles from Caruthersville, MO down to my spot on this island near Fair Landing, AR.

Other than my time in Memphis, my days have been filled with paddling from sunrise to close to sunset. The sandbars have been massive and plentiful, so no lack of great campsites. The weather has been pretty good, fairly hot during the day, not a ton of wind, and when I’ve had it, it’s been a tail wind, which is great. The nights have been calm, cool and sometimes a little breezy to provide an amazing atmosphere to sleep. Of course the sunrises and sunsets have been indescribable, and my pictures barely do them justice. I spend about an hour each night just staring up at the stars, watching the occasional plane go by and spotting satellites as they cruise across the heavens. The glow of one band of the milky way is ever present.

Today was the first day where I had a really sustained headwind, close to 20 to 25 miles per hour. So after hard paddling for eighteen miles this morning, the wind was only picking up. I picked the next sandbar island up ahead that had some trees to block the wind to stop. Plenty of time to set up camp and hunker down for the expected storms overnight. And plenty of firewood.

One of the reasons I’ve been putting in so many miles on this trip so far is to build in time for days like this. Better to put miles in the bank early and relax on the back end versus having to really rush towards the end. And when the weather is good, why not paddle the whole day?

For food, I’ve mostly been cooking some of my dehydrated meals I prepared ahead of time. But if there’s an opportunity to stop at a town and grab some food and cold drinks there, I won’t pass that up. Like yesterday in Helena Arkansas, I spent 1 – 3pm in an amazing barbecue place. I ate enough so that I didn’t have to eat dinner later.

The barge traffic has been constant, though I mostly paddle out of the main channel to avoid them and their wake. They rumble by at all hours of the night, but at this point, I can sleep right through the noise, and it’s kind of a feeling of comfort to have that presence. I think the biggest load i’ve seen yet is 48 barges with one tugboat. I hear myself mentioned as that kayaker coming down the river on the radio once in a while, and sometimes I chime in with where I will be, but mostly it’s listening to the captain’s chat back and forth with their incredible southern accents.

I’m used to traveling like this solo, so it’s pretty comfortable. At times I think it would be nice to have someone to peddle and camp with, but the advantage of doing it solo is that I can paddle when I want, and not paddle when I don’t. Every decision I make is mine and mine alone. I put on the occasional podcast, audiobook or playlist, but try to use those sparingly to conserve battery. Most of the time, it’s great just to be on the river with its natural sounds and scenes.

By my estimate, I have about 476 miles to the Gulf, and 12 days to do it in. There’s still some towns I want to stop and check out and hopefully some cool river people to meet. That should be quite doable if the weather and river cooperate.

Taking a Break for the 24 Hours from Home Challenge

Back in July, I had the idea of this St. Louis to the Gulf paddling trip within the first minute of hearing I had been laid off. Pretty quickly, I knew the only big conflict I’d need to deal with was the 24 Hours from Home Challenge.

This event was something I started back in 2021 in the depths of Covid. A chance for my runner/hiker/adventure friends to take part in an event, not necessarily together, but competing towards a common goal of getting outside, covering miles and experiencing a heck of an adventure. In our sixth iteration of the event, I was in danger of missing it while out on the river.

As I dug into maps, mileage charts and trip planning, I had the thought of potentially taking a break from the river and somehow travelling back to St. Louis where the event is mainly based – though we have participants from all over the world. I don’t really need to be involved in the logistics or administering the race, as my friend Jon Marble has done amazing work with his app RaceOwl to allow participants to easily track their progress. I truly am in debted to Jon for his help with this, and the troubleshooting that goes on behind the scenes.

On Sunday of every challenge weekend, I’ve organized an awards and after party. Outdoors at a local park, participants who are local and able to make it come to celebrate their achievements. For many, these are some of the longest miles they’ve ever run/walked. It’s in incredible physical and mental challenge, and the stories people share from their adventures are often hard to believe. The Sunday of 24hfh every year might be my favorite day of the year, and I really didn’t want to miss it this year.

So after a few days of paddling on the Mississippi, it got a bit more clear where I could make a stop – potentially Caruthersville, MO. Then had to check if that stop had the right logistics for me to store my boat and gear, and arrange transportation home. I looked at Amtrak, Greyhound and UHaul, and even considered vagabonding by sticking my thumb out on the side of a highway. Luckily, I found an Enterprise rent a car in nearby Dyersburg, TN. I had the amazing assistance of Bob Pierce of Caruthersville Gin, Inc. to help me out with boat storage and a ride into Tennessee.

It’s all gone according to plan so far, I arrived back in St. Louis Friday afternoon. The first thing I did was take my first shower in 10 days – I highly recommend experiencing that feeling, if you can. Yesterday and today is a lot of logistics and errands, prepping for the big party tomorrow, cleaning up my river gear, charging batteries, stocking up my food supply, catching up with my wonderful and tolerant wife Sara, and cuddling with my kitties Omar and Kima.

I plan to soak up the positive and inspirational vibes at the party tomorrow and take that inspiration with me Monday morning, back down I-55 to Caruthersville and my waiting boat. Back on the river heading south.

Rivertime – 9 Days Down

Sitting here on a massive island sandbar just above the city of Caruthersville, MO, cold beverage sitting on my crate table. Yep, 4th one of the trip. The first part of my journey has come to a close, 379 miles paddled or sailed over the course of 9 days. Tomorrow, I’ll paddle 3 miles down to Caruthersville, meet my friendly river angel Bob, who is going to store my boat and gear, then drive me into Dyersburg, TN, where I’ll get a rental car and drive back to St. Louis for the 24 Hours from Home Challenge.

How I connected with Bob is a true illustration of the type of river magic that happens on a long trip like this. When I popped into Port Cape in Cape Girardeau, MO a few days ago, I started chatting with a friendly local named Jan. I told her what I was doing, and mentioned how I planned to get to Caruthersville to travel back home for the weekend. Before I was finished explaining, she was on her phone texting her friend Bob in Caruthersville. Within 2 minutes of meeting her, I had a river angel lined up 150 or so miles down the river. Magic.

How’s the trip been so far, you ask? On the whole, delightful. Being on the downstream side of the Ohio these past few days has really opened my eyes to the scale and majesty of this river. The width, the endless bends and meanderings, the powerful yet seemingly silent creep of a tug pushing upwards of 40 barges by my tent in the middle of the night, the endless number of bald eagles I see day after day, the family of deer coming down to the water at sunset, the flocks of geese in formation on their way south, and the sandbars – my home for every night on this trip so far. It’s hard to tell where they start and stop, no doubt they are happy to be out in the sun rather than under 6 feet of muddy water.

I knew the familar feeling of long distance paddling would return, I just didn’t know when. The daily cycle of waking up before the sun, religiously placing all gear in its appointed place in the boat, getting out on the water as the sun cracks the horizon. Getting the first hard paddle strokes in while I crack open my thermos of warm coffee. Whiling away the morning into early afternoon, picking out a nice sandbar on which to take a mid day stretch. Then looking at my maps downstream for where I might find an accommodating place to set up my tent. Pulling in and religiously setting up camp, cooking dinner, maybe have a fire, sip a little whiskey and read a little Mark Twain before falling asleep. That’s it, that’s all life is out here. The “real” world of big city life drifts away, and you’re on rivertime.

Rivertime, that’s why we do it. Everything slows down. Distractions are few. I feel myself present in every moment. Feeling each paddle stroke, watching every tiny crest of a wave. Noticing the detail of every river bank or bend of a riverside tree branch in the wind.

While paddling today, I put on a podcast – Dean Klinkenberg’s wonderful Mississippi Valley Traveler, where he interviewed author, artist, river guide and really a spiritual guru for me (who I intend and hope to meet further down river) – John Ruskey. Dean asked John – for those who aren’t able to get out on the river to experience it, how would you go about describing or conveying the feeling of travelling the big rivers? I sort of expected the answer to go in a different direction, when John replied, “You can’t.”

So after attempting to descibe it for you, rambling on an on, posting photos and video clips meant to capture bits and pieces, I’m gonna go ahead and agree with John.

After the 24 Hour Challenge awards and wrap up party on Sunday, I’ll make my way back down to Caruthersville, enlist the help of Bob or some other river angels to get me back out on the river to continue the journey. Rivertime.

Two Days on the MO

Resting in some sweet air conditioned at home. An advantage of starting upstream of your home is to use your own place as a River Angel domecile on a big trip. Two days of paddling was enough to let me know what gear I might be missing, or what I don’t need at all. I was fairly spot on, only thing I need to procure is a bit more battery power.

Left Paddle Stop Brewery in New Haven yesterday around 8:15am after a previous evening of boat cleaning and touch ups. I know, it’s a sin to let that work of art collect dust, but that’s the life of owning 8 or 9 boats, all of which have their purpose. And the Mostar, Shane’s hand-crafted masterpiece, is 100% perfect for expeditions. She performed well in the MR340, fully unloaded and sitting much higher in the water, but she really shines fully loaded, doing long days out on the big rivers. I forgot how amazing this boat was, but two solid days in it was enough to refresh my memory.

Five miles in, I got a call from Shane that I’d left my sleeping pad back in New Haven. Not to worry, Shane drove ten minutes to Dundee Bottoms, where he was able to meet me to hand it off. From there it was some pretty solid paddling, a quick stop on a sandbar across from St. Albans, then the slog into St. Charles. I passed under all the St. Chuck bridges around 5, feeling pretty gassed. I knew there was one more sandbar to consider before Pelican Island, which was my goal for the day. I decided to blow by the sandbar with an hour and a half left of sunlight and pulled onto the gravelly sand at Pelican around 6:45ish.

I set up camp in the waning light, and what a spectacular sunset it was – pics on IG – @paddlestlouis. A quick dinner over a blazing fire to keep the mosquitos at bay and I was snoozing by 9pm. Nice.

65 miles the first day was way ambitious, and not a distance I expect to keep up on the Mississippi, but that left a relatively easy 32 mile day today to get to the Arch and a ride back home. I got on the river at 7:18am under an absolutely insanse sunrise and liesurely paddled the last 17 miles of the Big Muddy MO. I completed the MO mid-morning then entered the Mississippi. I made my way under the very active Chain of Rocks bridge construction site and had to adjust my route for crossing work tows. I portaged the 200 yards river left of the Chain, churning and boiling and sure to chew up any wood craft to sawdust.

Made my way into the Port of St. Louis, and barge traffic was heavy. I have a short wave radio with which I can communicate with barges and had a chance to use it today.

Barge Captain to other Barge Captains: “We got a kayaker coming down out of the Old Chain of Rock Lock” (incorrect, I was not)

Me: “Kayaker here, I’m going to hug the right bank.”

Barge Captain: “Ok, thank you for having a radio.”

I did not carry a radio on the Missouri, as barge traffic is quite minimal. But it’s pretty much required gear on the much busier Mississippi. I’m sure this is the first of many interactions with my fellow captains on this trip.

Soon I was under the familar sight of the Eads Bridge then the Arch, and my good friend Bill welcoming me into the fishing ramp with a couple cold ones on a hot day. Super duper thanks to Shane for your craftmanship and running my sleeping pad down to Dundee, my sleep under the stars was spectacular. And to Bill your ever-present willingness to River Angel.

Plan is to get back in at the Arch tomorrow morning and get heading Southwards!

A New Adventure: Trak Piloting

Back in the fall of 2024, I saw an email from Trak Kayaks. As a certified kayak instructor through the American Canoe Association (ACA), I was on their mailing list. I was familiar with the company, maker of high-end collapsible, packable sea kayaks. I had looked at their kayaks a few years ago, but didn’t really look too much deeper, with generally plenty of room to store my sometimes excessive boat collection. Space wasn’t a big issue, so I wasn’t too interested in adding a foldable boat to my fleet, especially at a premium price.

Anyway, Trak was looking to add Trak Pilots in select cities/regions. Trak Pilots are basically like product ambassadors, paddling veterans who become experts on Trak Kayaks, and offer test paddle opportunites and act as a quasi-sales rep for their boats. I opened the email, then clicked the link to see the list of locations. Scanning the list, it was almost all coastal cities around the globe, with a couple Great Lakes locations sprinkled in. But nothing near me, in St. Louis. In fact, no locations that were around big rivers. In the email was also a link to apply to become a Trak Pilot. I went ahead and filled out the form, maybe with a little midwest flyover attitude, explaining what a vibrant paddle community we have here at the confluence of the two longest rivers in the USA. I told them about our wonderful rivers, the big ones, the pristine Ozark streams and everything in between. I also told them about our paddling community, the racing, the expeditioners, whitewater and everything in between. I didn’t really expect to hear much after that, but was satisfied I stood up for midwest paddling!

A couple days later, Nolin Veillard, the Founder and Managing Director of Trak reached out, and we had a nice 45 minute phone call, him at the office in Vancouver, Canada and me walking the streets of my neighborhood. He asked about my experience, the paddling community and culture here in Missouri and what my future paddling plans and goals were. It went well, and he told me they’d be happy to include me in their consideration for future Trak Pilots. A few more emails and conversations with some Trak staff and I was invited to join as a Trak Pilot. What this entails is pretty wide open.

First, I had the opportunity to buy a brand new Trak 2.0 kayak at a steeply discounted rate. I’d be included as a Trak Pilot/point of contact on their web site. I’d be listed as the go to guy for people interested in Trak kayaks in the midwest/St. Louis/Missouri area. Then it’s pretty much up to me to make of it what I want. A few weeks ago, after a short hangup in customs, my Track kayak arrived on my doorstep.

The wife and I then left on a planned vacation to Vietnam and Thailand for a couple weeks. You don’t know me that well if you think I didn’t consider bringing my new boat along to paddle the incredible waterways of Southeast Asia. But alas, it would have added a certain level of logistics, not to mention some serious eye rolling from my wife that frankly I wasn’t prepared for. Ah well. Fast forward a couple weeks and a 65 degree Sunday offered my first opportunity to hit the water in the new boat.

I loaded my kayak in a bag into the back of my car and headed out to Chouteau Claim access, at the confluence of the Meramec and Bourbeuse Rivers. I got there a little earlier than my buddy Shane, so I had some time to unpack it for the first time and read the instructions on how to put together the boat.

It took about 30 minutes, and that included some studying of the instructions and images, a few quick corrections, and a whole lot of learning of this technological wonder. It’s a skin-on-frame kayak, with an anodized aluminum frame, carbon fiber ribs and a polyurethane skin with three hydraulic jacks that add the needed rigidity. I managed to get it assembled just as Shane was arrving and unloading his SUP. It wasn’t too difficult at all, I have confidence I’ll be able to do it in the promised 10 minutes in the future.

Shane and I headed a few miles upstream on the Meramec, having to really power up some swift riffles, swing into some eddies for a breather, and navigate some shallow spots and submerged trees. We stopped on a sandbar to chat, then turned around and headed back downstream. At the Bourbeuse, we hooked a left a went upstream for a mile or two in the hardly noticeable current.

My first impression: this is a sweet boat. It’s only around 40 pounds, so is super light and glides across the water. It’s fast and responsive. There’s no rudder or skeg, but steering with paddle strokes and some leaning/bracing is super easy. Its draft is quite shallow and I glided across a few shallow spots and surprisingly didn’t drag. A couple spots I did drag, I felt fully confident the skin would hold up fine without any dings from rocks, logs or gravel. It did. The freeboard is minimal, so if I paddle this boat on choppier waters, I’ll certainly use a skirt.

I can’t wait to paddle this in varying conditions, and get it out on the Missouri and Mississippi. As the weather and water warms up, you’ll certainly see me out there cruising in this Trak 2.0. And if you want to take a look at the boat or take it for a test paddle, you know how to find me, just head to the river!

2024 MR340 Race Recap

Missouri River 340, July 23 – 26, 2024

Result

#2341 – Paddle Stop New Haven – Dragon Boat

58:36:28, 89^th place overall, 1^st in Dragon Division

Team: Jessica Chase, Ken Costello, Sheral DeVaughn, Lee Doty, Mark Fingerhut, James Kipper, Kirstin McEvoy, Brandon Nolte, Brett Swanstrom, Joan Twillman, Betty Welch, Anqi Dai, Jackie Halloran

Support: Sherri Terun, Ron Twillman, Chris DeVaughn

Pre-Race/Prep

The origin of a 2024 Dragon boat run on the 340 started sometime last summer or fall, when my good buddy Shane at Paddle Stop New Haven mentioned he was thinking about building a new canoe. His first large canoe, the 24 ft Eliza Haycraft, competed with a crew of 10 in the 2021 340, in which I ran ground support. When he detailed out what he was thinking, an even bigger canoe with more capacity, my mind got moving pretty quickly.

For those not in the know, Shane is an artist when it comes to stand up boards, canoes, a single kayak, and other watercraft. I thought it was only right that if a new boat made its way into the world, the proper way to welcome it was a 340 mile race on the Missouri. Once Shane had a little more idea of the total capacity of the boat, I started recruiting.

However, I’ve found that before you ask someone to join this race in your boat, it’s pretty helpful to have an idea of what the experience is going to look like so they have all the facts. So a race result that looked like success to me was a competitive, thick-skinned and stubborn team, with the potential ability to nap/sleep in the boat since it was going to be huge, minimization of shore time and an ultimate ambitious goal of finishing in 50 to 55 hours.

I began with the 2021 Eliza crew and got the first 2 paddlers. Opened up the invite to my fellow Hash House Harriers, the drinking club with a running problem of which I am a practicing member and got a couple more. I then threw the invite out to the Creve Coeur Lake paddlers, a rowdy but competitive crew of STL locals, but didn’t find much interest there. Lastly, I posted an open invite on the MR340 page and was able to get near full capacity – a target of 14 heads in the boat. Fortunately, I had met and paddled with almost everyone in the boat, with the exception of 1 or 2.

In the months leading up to the race, I wanted to get the team (as many as possible) together for some practice/training runs. The way the roster worked out was a pretty even split of STL and KC-based paddlers with a couple from Oklahoma. In June, we gathered in New Haven then shuttled up to Mokane for a 40ish mile training run. The new dragon boat was still under construction, but we took the Eliza as a reasonable substitute. The day went very well. Paddling and speed was sufficient, but most importantly, the whole team met, got along, laughed and joked together and enjoyed the day. For a big group, many of who have never met, it’s hard to know what you’re going to get when the all get together. But my theory is anyone who would consider doing this thing called the MR340 has qualities and traits that allow them to get along with, and succeed with like-minded folks.

We did one more training run – which turned out to be the Meramec Marathon, a 29 mile run on the Meramec River outside St. Louis. We happened to be the very first dragon boat to ever compete in this race. We had the new, yet-to-be-named boat, and despite Shane’s concerns of low water conditions and risk of scraping the virgin cedar wood, all was good. The rudder allowed me as captain to line up the boat around sharp turns and bends, as well as shouting commands to the team to paddle on a particular side. I don’t believe we touched a rock that entire race and I was super happy with the boat, and the team once again. We were ready for the big race!

The last couple weeks leading up to the race was fairly harrowing in terms of personnel. We had 13 committed, I was happy with that, we could fit one more, but good enough. We lost one paddler after the Meramec race, so I reopened the call on the MR340 page. I was able to add 2 paddlers so back to a full 14!

Four days before the race, we lose 2 more. Oh crap. I was able to find one last paddler who registered two days before the race so we were back to a solid 13. I was quickly realizing that for a Dragon team, the hardest part of the race happens before one gets to the starting line. The rest is easy!

The Race

Most of the team gathered at Kaw Point for race check in, and we got the newly named boat “Twelve Volt Man” in the water and tied up. We did some team shopping then divided our gear and support needs among 3 support vehicles. Each vehicle was responsible for supporting 4 or 5 specific paddlers, just to avoid the chaos of having gear and items spread out all willy nilly.

I don’t have to mention how chaotic the pre-start was, try coordinating getting a team of 13, plus gear/supplies, plus 3 support vehicles to the start. Finally at about 7:30am, the team was gathered near the ramp. I asked some spectators by the river to move along so our team could stage, while I hopped in the boat and nosed it toward the ramp. Obviously, the ramp was a constant conga of boats getting into the water. Seeing a small gap after the Krakamaran got in, I aligned the front quarter of the boat on the bottom half of the ramp, then just started having the team throw me all their gear, loading back to front. I think we were fairly efficient, and we soon had everyone in and gear mostly situated.

With a few minutes to spare before the start, we leisurely drifted upstream, and I wished many of my friends good luck. My strategy at the start is to be as far left as possible and enter the Missouri at the very tip of the point. I want to always be the boat furthest left possible, not sure why, I think it’s about getting into the current as fast as possible. A couple unfortunate canoes managed to get to our left and began drifting right, into our path. We tried to announce our presence, but 3500 pounds vs. a couple hundred is no contest. We bumped and pushed them away like bugs off a windshield.

We settled into steady paddling, probably in the top third of the 8am starters. For spectators in the early part of the race, and then throughout, the spectacle of seeing the only dragon boat in the race is pretty special and we were rewarded time and again with hollers, cowbells, horns and other undulations.

Our race strategy going in, which I made sure to communicate early and often to potential and confirmed teammates was as such.

First day: quick stop at Waverly, (optional) quick stop at Miami, late night arrival in Glasgow. 2 or 3 hour shore time.

Second day: quick stop at Franklin, quick stop at Jeff City, arrival in Chamois. 2 or 3 hour shore time

Third day: quick stops if/where needed, finish late afternoon.

After our second training run, I realized having people recline/sleep in the boat was not really going to be possible. So minimal shore time, but with the ability to get a couple hours sleep was the plan.

The first day proved to be pretty spectacular weather, not insanely hot, a little breeze but not enough to affect our pace. The team was in good spirits, staying hydrated and fed, getting to know each other a bit better with lively conversation and jokes. And of course having a constant supply of fellow boaters overtaking us, or us overtaking them, made for endless opportunities to meet new people, and have them take in the spectacle that is the dragon experience.

We bypassed Lexington as planned and pulled into Waverly around 5:30, spent about 20 minutes resupplying food and water, bathrooms, etc. A note about our hydration: I left hydration up to each person – some hade camelbaks, some had bottles, then we had two 4 gallon jugs of ice water that we used to refill our personal supplies over the trip.

The team felt good and we made the decision to bypass Miami to push on to Glasgow. We all enjoyed the sunset and moonrise, as well as the occasional riverside party of locals there to cheer on our roving party. For seating arrangements, I generally left it to the team to figure out what works best for them. I am not a micromanaging captain. Occasionally, seat partners would switch sides to change the muscles they were paddling with, announcing their switch to the boat due to very short moments of instability. The other amazing advantage to this boat was for paddlers to stand up occasionally to stretch their legs and get a quick moment on their feet. As the captain, I was standing quite often, getting a better view of what’s coming. With a longer paddle, I was able to paddle while standing up, which was so nice.

Pulling into Glasgow just before 3:30am, I told the team I was going to wake up at 6 and if there was no fog, I’d rouse them and we’d get going. Our wonderful support had a few tarps laid out on the ground near the ramp, and we all quickly crashed out with our respective sleeping systems. I think I only manage to get a little over an hour of sleep. At 6, downstream of Glasgow looked like a pretty solid wall of fog, but I started waking up the team, through not at an urgent pace. I started shaking a sleeping, covered body within our team circle, only to have a face I didn’t know looking back at me. An interloper in our midst, sorry about that unknown paddler!

On the water by 7:30, the fog had all but lifted and we were quickly into Lisbon Bottoms. As a 7 timer in this race, I took the opportunity (wanted or not) to regale the team with previous race stories throughout the race, including the time a pair of sombrero’d gentleman managed to pin their canoe getting too close to the Lisbon chute and luckily survived that ordeal.

It really started heating up quickly, hotter than day 1. I encouraged the team to drink plenty, and pour river water over their heads, necks and torsos. As we approached Franklin Island, which we had planned to bypass, from the front of the boat I heard the last-minute request to stop. We pulled in and found out that Betty was feeling down. We helped her off the boat and into the shade to sit, and luckily she had a couple friends nearby to help her. In the meantime, the team took the time to grab a baked potato, and jump in the water to cool off. Betty was insistent that we keep moving without her, and I was insistent that we would wait, allow her to cool off and get back in once she felt better. After 10 minutes of not really solving anything, I made the decision that we’d proceed without Betty and she insisted that’s what she wanted, and she was good with it. Whatever time/place goals we had as a team was never as important as team health and finishing with a full crew, and I hope that wasn’t missed when I laid out our plans in the race leadup.

Betty and Jackie were two of our later additions to the boat, and have some pretty solid dragon boat experience. So I was super happy to have them, and they were valuable and stout additions to the team. But wearing only tank tops and no hats all day, exposed to the unrelenting sun, I just don’t get it! Wow. But Betty was truly one of our strongest paddlers in the boat and she was the MVP of our first 1.5 days out there.

We paddled on with 12, somewhat sluggishly to Rocheport, the gorgeous bluffs and the new bridge, harassing a couple workers as we passed. We planned to push straight to Jeff City, but taking inventory of our water, we decided to pull into Huntsdale to get a quick refill of our jugs. Big thanks to Huntsdale staff and random support crews for helping us out. Shortly after Huntsdale is where yours truly started to bonk. It was the lack of sleep that was catching up to me. I felt hydrated enough, I was peeing regularly, I didn’t feel overly hot and was eating enough. Just foggy mind, inability to keep my eyes open and extremely heavy limbs. I struggled to paddle and just concentrated on working the rudder pedals to keep us in the channel.

With 5 miles to go to Jeff City, I felt I was in danger of slumping over, so I grabbed our one of two 340 virgins, Brandon, and threw him in the captain chair. I gave him the general concept on where to keep the boat, then I closed my eyes for about 10 minutes. I woke up closed to the ramp and guided him on the line to take, cutting over at the last minute and hitting the big eddy. I get off the boat, up the beach and collapsed on a waiting tarp.

After about 20 minutes of struggling to sleep, I saw my friend Josh, who was operating the Morpheus mobile IV clinic during the race. I told him what was going on and he recommended a B12 shot. I took him up on it, looking for anything to help perk me up for the push to Chamois. The team took the opportunity to eat, refuel and a couple laid down for a quick nap. After about an hour, we got back in the boat to Chamois. My body started responding better, but felt my mind was still operating at about 60% capacity. I turned on the RaceOwl channel tracking app, which I have never used in my previous races, to basically allow my mind to solely focus on the small screen and keeping our boat lined up. I pushed myself to participate in various conversations on the boat to also keep my mind working and occupied. After about 3 hours, I felt I had full mind and body capacity once again. We hit Chamois at 12:30am.

We once again crashed on tarps under the nearby pavilion, folks ate, drank, a few showered then slumbered. I woke at 4:30am to assess the fog. While thick, I could see the opposite bank, so I started waking the team. For the second day in a row, I mistakenly woke up someone sleeping near our group that was not in fact, in our group. Hazards of being a dragon boat skipper #922. This time, though, he thanked me that I had gotten him up!

On the water at 5:30am, we quickly encountered the thickest fog of the race. Mr. Jon Marble saved our bacon once again, and I ran the channel tracker though about 4 hours of fog to Hermann. As a pretty experienced river guy, I understand the risk and the dangers of fog. I also take my responsibility as the leader of a team of 13 very seriously. Their safety and well being ultimately in my hands. So it was a calculated risk to paddle through the fog. I was aware of where the barges were (nowhere near us) and was pretty familiar with the stretch of river. I heard the lighted and rumbling water outlet for the Callaway nuclear plant on the river just down from Chamois. I know that did scare other paddlers who encountered that in the fog, and made them deviate their plan thinking it was a barge, but I knew exactly what it was and kept to the plan. Familiarity with the river and its features is something I take pride in and have acquired over many years and miles.

The fog saved us from seeing the Hermann bridge for 8 straight miles and we hooted and hollered at the early morning Hermann crowd as we passed. We made quick work of Berger Bend and reached our craft’s port of call in New Haven. A quick refueling stop and greeting from our boatmaker Shane had us primed for the home stretch. We blew by Washington at 1pm and planned to push all the way to the finish, the only exception being Klondike, but only if they had Klondike bars. Alas it wasn’t to be. Just past Klondike we heard distant thunder, some light drizzle, 2 barges with requisite wake, and a little headwind. We were loving every second of the changing conditions. Adrenaline was in full affect and we could smell the finish.

Sprits remained high, and we distracted ourselves with trash pickup! From a standing position, I’d survey the river ahead. If I spotted what was likely a piece of trash, I’d get us in line with it, then the first two rows of the boat would grab it and deposit into our stream team bags. Between our own trash and what we pulled out of the river, we filled two bags per day, six total! (Most interesting piece of garbage – a Ziploc bag of urine. Undetermined if it originated with a 340 participant.)

Coming under the second to last bridge, we were distracted by two friends of a few of us in the boat who cheered us on in varying stages of undress from up on the shore. We didn’t begin our finishing sprint until well after the final bridge, I would have preferred to start earlier, but the team was near spent. We kicked it in to the finish, unbeknownst to us a drone captured our final looping sprint in.

Instant chaos on shore, medals, trophies, beers, the team scatters, hugs and photos, the usual post-race high. Still had the task for finding a place to tie up our trusty craft on the shore, and the thigh deep mud I missed throughout the race was there to greet me as I tied him up.

In Closing

My first dragon experience was just incredible. I’ve done this race tandem 4x, solo 2x, and now dragon. The added element of team camaraderie, the laughing and singing, conversation and interactivity during the race nearly outweighs the logistics of organizing all aspects of the team and herding the cats. Don’t get me wrong, this was a great group of people, extremely solid paddlers and go with the flow/adapt and overcome personalities. Time will tell if I ever undertake such an endeavor again, but this was a truly special experience.

Massive thank you to the entire team who took a chance to be a part of a special experience. And to our support/ground crew – thanks for being there for us, putting up with our whims and for being absolutely flexible, when it wasn’t hard to do so.

Massive thank you to Missouri River Relief, all the staff and volunteers without whom this would never be possible, Scott Mansker for dreaming this up, to all my fellow paddlers and support who took a minute to say hi along the way. I absolutely love this river community, and this week always fills my soul.

Thanks for reading, see you on the river.

2022 MR340 Race Recap

Missouri River 340, July 12 – 15, 2022

Result

#4933 – Mark Fingerhut – Epic V7 Surfski

56:00:09, 51^st place overall, 20^th solo men’s kayak

Pre-Race/Prep

Going into my 6^th MR340, 2^nd solo, I felt pretty good about what to expect. In 2021, I helped support Paddle Stop New Haven’s 10-person dragon boat and really appreciated seeing the race from a new perspective. As a racer in previous years, I normally don’t get a chance to see a ton of other boats or their setups, or interact with ground crews to get good ideas, or appreciate what it takes to actually put this race on. I feel like that support experience certainly helped in prep for this year. The biggest wild card going in was going to be weather…and the choice of a boat.

The plan all along was to use the Mostar, the gorgeous 20ft cedar strip kayak built by Shane at Paddle Stop that I used both in my 2019 descent of the Missouri River, as well as in my last MR340 in 2020, a 57.5 hour finish. Earlier in the spring, I happened upon a local posting of an Epic V7 for sale at a reasonable price. I’ve always been intrigued by surfskis, but never had the chance to paddle one. I hopped to it and bought it, which also included a nice Epic mid-wing paddle. The V7 model is rotomolded, so can be treated more roughly than the other delicate, more expensive models, and is slightly heavier, more stable and a quicker learning curve. That said, I didn’t consider paddling the boat in this year’s 340 until I had a lot more saddle time and felt more comfortable.

In preparation for the race, I paddled quite often: weekly Tuesday night 5k races with the local crew at Creve Coeur Lake, day/night trips of varying lengths on the Missouri between Hermann and the confluence, the Mississippi above St. Louis, short/higher intensity paddles upstream then back on the Meramec River, among others. I also participated in the inaugural MR140 in Minnesota back in June, which turned out to be a terrific tune up. I paddled my Current Designs Nomad in that race, mainly for added stability and comfort on an unknown river with unknown support and multiple portages. After the 140, I realized I could have easily done that race in my surfski, so why not consider the ski for the 340???

Wanting one more true test of this boat under my belt, a couple weeks ago, I did a 70 mile speed run from downtown St. Louis to Chester, IL on the Mississippi. This stretch would have everything the 340 would have in a condensed form: darkness, navigation challenges, barge wakes galore, fluid/gear management, technology setup, etc. The run was quite successful, departing St. Louis at 4pm, arriving in Chester at 2am in the wake of 4 consecutive big barges. I felt comfortable in the boat, quite stable, I was able to haul enough gear, and was pretty excited with the pace I was able to maintain. The Mostar was out; the V7 was in.

The Race

After the traditional pre-race KC barbeque binge (this time at Slaps BBQ) and a pretty good night sleep, I was up with my wife/ground crew Sara, stuffing bladders with water and Gatorade, scarfing some breakfast and hitting the water at Kaw Point. I’ll forever be a fan of putting in at the confluence point vs. dealing with the lines at the ramp. Sara’s done support over the years for me and other paddler friends, but this was her first time seeing the spectacle of the starting line, so I was excited for her to take it all in. I paddled around the crowd leading up to the 7am start, greeting so many paddlers I’ve had the privilege to get to know over the years, either from the local St. Louis community, friends from KC, or just those I see at the 340 every time I do it. It’s a tangible uplifting feeling knowing you are setting off on this epic challenge with so many others you admire and respect, less of a singular competitive challenge, more of a bond that we’ll tackle this thing together one mile at a time.

After a tapping of paddles to boat to thank the race organizers and volunteers (shout out Dave Amelung), we were off. My modus at the start is to stick hard left on the Kaw and hit the confluence at the highest point, with 99.9% of the boats to my right. That way, I am out in the fast current of the Missouri before anyone else, and sure enough, I was sliding right by the large mass of boats still transitioning from the Kaw morass into the churn of the main channel. I picked up the parked construction barges of the Buck O’Neil bridge just as the picture in the email the night before indicated and set a 6:30/mile pace through the downtown KC speedway of the first few race miles.

The pack I was paddling with thinned pretty quickly, and I could tell I was in a faster boat than I’ve ever paddled this race in before. Instead of paddling with plastic boats and beginner kayaks, I was with the Stellars, the Surfskis, the wielders of wing paddles, the upper level of boats that tend towards the front of the pack. It was new to me. After the fast water of downtown KC, I settled into the low 7 minutes per mile. My technology is quite low-tech: an Amazfit fitness watch that tells me time, distance, and pace. My phone tucked away in my PFD (or later my dry bag) running Race Owl. I’m not a channel tracker/ProPaddler guy, as I’ve rarely found the benefit of it with paddlers usually in sight, as well as knowing the river quite well between KC and STL.

I told Sara I’d text her if for some reason I needed to stop at Napoleon, it would have been only to refill water and Gatorade, but with a 3-liter water bladder, and 1.5 of Gatorade, my supply was sufficient as I passed by before noon. I got to Lexington at 1:15pm and stayed for less than 5 minutes, just getting more water and Gatorade. It was a long hot slog to Waverly, but I am always motivated to get to Waverly Ramp #1 to see my good friend and river rat Rob Kalthoff, who coordinates all the volunteers at what I think is the best run ramp on the race. I was there for about 10 minutes, again refilling water and getting a photo with Rob.

I wasn’t eating a ton throughout the day, maybe a cliff bar here or there, and a quick protein drink at the ramps, but still felt strong and confident arriving at Miami around 8:30pm. I’m pretty sure it’s the earliest I’ve ever arrived there. I also realized how less crowded the ramps are when you are a little bit faster, go figure! I stayed in Miami for about 25 minutes, scarfing some cold Thai noodles Sara had brought from KC and getting the sweet caffeine from a Dr. Pepper. It was on to the 36 miles to Glasgow for a short rest. My race plan in 2020, and for this year was the same: get to Glasgow sometime in the middle of the night, sleep til close to sunrise, paddle all day, get to either Chamois or Hermann, sleep til close to sunrise, then finish the race.

There’s almost nothing I love as much as night paddling, so I enjoyed the 36 miles into Glasgow, talking with a few paddlers, but generally spending my time solo with my thoughts, a little music and a podcast or two that triggered the much-needed endorphins provided by laughter. In the last 5 miles getting into Glasgow, I blew past a pack of 6 to 8 kayaks and arrived just before the rush, 1:48am.

Sara had my rest setup all ready to go. I scarfed two corn dogs from the food truck, got out of wet clothes, then laid down, where Sara used our massage gun to really work out the soreness in my back and shoulders before I popped 2 Aleve and was off to dreamland. The massage gun is now an MVP level piece of gear that I will have along for every race from here on out! I woke up at 4:30am feeling surprisingly spry and fresh.

I got back on the water just as the morning light peeked over the horizon and fog was starting to lift. Lisbon Bottoms was no problem and I passed the still sleeping safety boat crew on Jameson Island. Luckily this notoriously windy stretch was not so this morning and I made good progress towards Franklin. I passed a few boats who had been paddling pretty much all night, commending them on the achievement and wishing them luck. But the fact that I felt fresh as I passed them by and seeing how tired they were, I was happy with my choices so far. I caught up with my good friend and partner in adventuring Dan Strieker on his Timber Longboard SUP right as we got into Franklin in the waves of a passing barge. I had to stop to sit in the shade, eat some food, and just gather my thoughts for about a half hour before heading out again. I was joined by local STL paddling friend Chris Mullee for this stretch.

We had great conversation for the next 25ish miles. Quite amazing how human interaction keeps your mind fresh and off the muscle pain or discomfort of the blazing heat. Chris also suggested I cover my exposed toes and feet with my frogg togg towel, which up to this point, although covered in sun block, were burning up. Thanks Chris! We caught up with Dan again and passed him getting into Cooper’s where Chris stopped for a break and I kept moving.

To deal with the heat during the race, I generally kept to dipping my hat and pouring water over me, draping my frogg togg around my neck here and there. On my way into Jeff City, it was getting pretty bad. I knew of a couple ramps coming up, and I opted to stop at the private ramp just upstream of Hartsburg to cool off. As I pulled in, I saw a couple guys at the top of the ramp and thinking they might have been owners, asked them if I could stop for a dip. They replied, “Sure, not our ramp!” and proceeded to offer me a couple varieties of beers or rum and coke. Under any other circumstances, even during the race, I would have taken them up on it. But with an overheating situation near, I told them no thanks. I fully submerged into the end of the muddy ramp and felt much better. Approaching Jeff City, I passed an upstream sand barge that kicked up some real nice rolling waves which I had a lot of fun crashing through in my ski. Some dread barges on the river, but to me it’s a chance to wake up, get the adrenaline up and put your mind to work navigating the waves!

In Jeff City, I had half a double cheeseburger, about as much as my body would allow me to get down, and a couple other small snacks, before I closed my eyes for a half hour nap. I’ve learned on this race that even these shortest of rests allows my mind to reboot. I close my eyes with scattered thoughts, frustration and worries about the coming stretch of river, and awake with a renewed sense of motivation and clearer thinking. I was back on the river in less than 1.5 hours, prepared to push on to Chamois or further.

The sunset from Jeff City to Chamois was nice, but my mood was soured by the fact I forgot my headlight at Jeff City, Sara forgot to give me a 5-hour energy, the damn bugs that kept flying into my mouth and eyes, as well as my phone really frustrating me by either stopping my podcasts every couple minutes, or continuing to play Rush on my seemingly randomized playlists. Rush – only in moderation, people! I got to Chamois before 10pm and soon learned about the brand new wing dyke that almost blocks the ramp, with the street light from the park shining straight into your eyes. I slightly scraped the wing dyke, then had to restrain myself from snapping at the ramp volunteer that perhaps better direction for paddlers landing here was in order. Hangriness had set in.

I had a good half hour rest in Chamois, ate some delicious sourdough with salami that our baker friend in KC had baked, and set out toward my evening sleep spot in Hermann. It was only in this stretch where I missed having a channel finder. A few times I found myself in slow water, realizing I had gotten out of the channel before making the correction. There were a few other boats far behind me, as well as a few ahead as I began to approach Hermann, arriving at the endlessly viewed bridge at 1am.

After some massage gun and Aleve, back to dreamland til 4am. If there were trains passing all night, that was news to me, I was out. I was back on the water before 5am, for the stretch from Hermann to New Haven. I was really in the home stretch, I know these waters from here to the finish in my sleep! I stopped for a quick 5 minutes in New Haven and said hey to my friend Melissa who was helping at the ramp. As I was pulling out, Shane came down from the Paddle Stop to bid me good luck as well. I booked it to Washington where I figured my good friend Pat Tenny would be waiting for me with breakfast biscuits from Hardee’s which he’s brought for pretty much each of my six 340s. Sure enough, there was Pat, snapping photos with a Hardees bag in his hand. I stopped for a half hour to enjoy a couple and get fluids for the long hot day ahead.

I really suffered in the heat in the short 8 miles from Washington to Klondike. The miles were slow and I struggled to stay cool with river water not quite doing the job. I finally got to Klondike at 11am, where some shade, some ice water, a little food and caffeine seemed to help. All that was left was Klondike to St. Charles, done it 1000 times. Fighting off the heat of the day with my rising adrenaline to finish the race, I powered through, passing the Boone bridge where a random dude stood up there looking at his phone. Hey, was that someone I know? After that I caught a glimpse of two paddle flashes up ahead. While not too competitive normally, at this point in the race, I always use whatever motivation I can find to finish strong and get a cold beer in my hands that much quicker. I picked up the pace as the specks of paddlers in front of me started to grow larger.

I passed the first guy just before the 364 bridge, not even giving him a glance. I just wanted to demoralize him by blowing by. There, standing under the bridge, I spotted the guy who’d been up on the Boone Bridge, oh hey that’s my buddy Keith, paddler from last year’s dragon boat and ringing a bell to bring me to the finish. The next paddler was moving fast and I didn’t know if I’d be able to get him, but I was up for the challenge. I changed my stroke from arm paddling to core paddling, and noticed my speed dropping once again to below 7 min/mile, not seen since the first couple miles of the race. The other paddler was sticking hard river right, which I’d normally do. But seeing as the finish was river left, I cheated a bit and stayed out more into the center of the river. I passed under the I-70 bridge still behind him, but with a direct path to the finish ramp, whereas he had to cross all the way over. I heard the yelling of the welcoming crowd and managed to out kick this guy, coming in 20 seconds before him, at 3pm exactly. I congratulated him, then apologized for the rather unnecessary show of competitiveness. He was luckily in good spirits and dismissed my apology. I soon learned that passing those two paddlers got me into a top 50 overall/top 20 division finish. Whatever it takes to get the beer in my hand faster, I say. Sara soon did just that and a 16oz PBR never tasted so good.

Summary

Overall, I consider this a very successful race. I was in a faster boat, but in slower water than previous years, but still managed a personal best by 1.5 hours. I did feel like I had to stop more often, mainly to reload fluids as my boat isn’t set up for hauling a lot. I opted not to do any after market modifications to the boat, no drilling through the deck for tubes or tanks or anything like that. However, my ramp stops were usually pretty brief, I had no issues getting back in the boat. I kind of like that style, as the body gets to get up and stretch more often. For my personal sleep needs, what I did here was about as good as I could expect. Minimum of two hours each night, with a hard reset during the second day. Anything less and I don’t think I’m getting the kind of brain activity that leads to good decisions. Plus, after getting back on the water after sleeping, I am immediately passing by paddlers that’ve been going for many more hours than I. I’ll take the tradeoff.

My nutrition absolutely needs work. I had a tough time getting solid food down throughout the race. I relied on liquid protein shakes mainly, a little bit of turkey jerky, an RX or Cliff Bar here or there, but my eating was reactive rather than proactive. If I do this race again, I’m going to focus a lot more of my prep and attention on a proper nutrition plan that will be more successful.

Once again, the people are what makes this race what it is. The friends and community I have from doing this race through the years, or friends I’ve made through paddling in general is really the spark that keeps me coming back. Yeah, finishing the race is cool, getting a time you can be proud of is ok, but my best moments of this race were Thursday afternoon after I’d finished, or when I came back Friday morning to watch my fellow racers finish – welcoming them in with a high five or a hug, seeing the looks on their faces, having accomplished something epic and something that will likely change their lives, as it has mine.

Huge thank you to my wife Sara for the amazing support, you knew exactly what I needed when I needed it. Thanks to Shane and Stacy at Paddle Stop for being great river friends and running with your dream to bring people to the river. Thanks Steve, Melanie, Kevin and everyone at MO River Relief for all the great work you do. Thanks to Scott, Christina and all the race organizers, I’ll love this event as long as I live. Volunteers, rampers, safety boaters – you are incredible. Thanks to the entire paddling community who continue to amaze me with your generosity, your good advice, your encouragement and support.

SYOTR

Mark Fingerhut, 2022