2005 Race Reports

Dundurn is a small community about 30km south of Saskatoon . About 5km NW of the town is an army base - Camp Dundurn . About 155 square kilometres of land used for exercises is associated with the camp. Mark Rosin is a Major in the Army cadet program and has seen competitions in Europe that he thought would be suited for the area. He took one aspect of a military competition and made his own, tailored for Camp Dundurn . The first year involved only Cadets and regular Army, for the last two years civilians have been invited to compete.

The competition involves navigating using 1/40,000 scale maps in a Rogaine style, collecting as many orienteering controls as you can in the time allotted. It takes place over a 24hr period and has 3 separate sessions. To add to the challenge, each team of two has to carry their shelter, cooking equipment, food and emergency gear. Strategies include keeping weight to a minimum and staying comfortable and fed well enough to continue.

When Jen and I left Calgary it felt weird to be driving onto the prairies for an orienteering event. After Hanna the land gets very flat, very very flat. It wasn't until we came to Dundurn itself that we saw some bush and rolling hills. We climbed out of the car, late as usual, and quickly went through the registration process in the base gymnasium. We chose larger packs because adventure racing gear didn't have the volume required and our camping equipment wasn't ultra-light. On the gym floor we spread out our stuff, went through the gear list and packed our bags.

The race started at noon with 5 hours of orienteering. Each session had its own map, so you had to get all you could, there would be no going back. The forecast was for warm weather and it was already over 20C. The teams left in 1 minute intervals, at two minutes before our time, we were called up to the hold area and weighed in our packs, amazingly, and depressingly both our packs came in at 11 kilos. The terrain turned out to be very interesting, lots of small hills and depressions, a mix of grass and bush, and under the thin topsoil, sand, lots of sand. There was a nice breeze out of the south, but it became very hot by mid-afternoon. We adjusted our pace to match our load, with the heavier packs it seemed impossible to run with any speed, the packs would bounce and chafe against our backs. We ended up with a shuffle like jog that created a 7min/km pace. My back still became rubbed raw. At 5PM we had to adjust our route and skip a 20 point control and headed for the finish, crossing the line 10 minutes before the deadline. The competition is based on total points and total time, the penalty for being late is severe. The heat and sand had taken its toll, our feet were in bad shape, we were hungry and dehydrated. We set up camp, cooked up our food and drank and ate until we were stuffed. Our tents were all set up in a field with a big command center tent in the middle bustling with activity. By 7PM the results for the day were posted and at 8PM we were packing for the night session.

At 9:20PM, Jen and I were off into the dark. Unknowingly, we picked probably the hardest orienteering control of all to start with. We immediately started to get confused with the terrain and bush, then frustration set in. We both thought we were in different places, but rather than retreat and restart we chose to keep on our heading and picked out a check to catch us if we over shot. We knew this was going to catch up a lot of people, so we kept our headlamps off as much as possible. Three minutes later, we ran right into the control and we were racing again. The rest of the course was relatively straight forward, however we had to run almost the entire distance. Our packs were light and the night was cool, running effortless compared to what we'd been through already.

In the prairies, clear nights mean cold nights, and this was no exception. We froze. We thought we would pass out when our heads hit the stuff sacks, not even close. The light gear meant no extra insulation and we survived, but not in comfort. At 6AM everybody was up, eating, packing and taping blistered, sore feet, we were getting to know each other and it was a great atmosphere. The night results were posted and everyone crowded around the command tent to see where they stood. At 8AM the first team was off again for 4 more hours. We ended up running with Lanny and Isabelle from the AR team "I'm With Stupid". We had got to know them over the w/e and it was a great way to finish the race. To our delight we collected all the controls and finished in 3 hours even, I was out of gas and my feet were killing me, good timing. After the race, I connected the dots and measured the distance. In 9 hours and 40 minutes we covered over 55km of terrain, getting all but 1 CP.

After a fantastic wrap-up with a great pasta feast and results in record time, the teams were acknowledged and volunteers thanked and in typical Major Mark no-wasted-minute style, everything was wrapped up with no one left wanting anything. We were on the road by 2 PM and raving about a fantastic, well-managed event.

The mix of people was interesting and refreshing. There were separate categories for the cadets and it was great to see and acknowledge their accomplishments. Mark and his troop of volunteers were amazing, the event couldn't have been better run. The maps were good, a work in progress, but the effort was obvious. Mark was always around, asking questions, and listening. I have no doubt that next year’s competition will be even better that this one. For developing navigating skills for adventure racing (AR), this type of practice is invaluable. I highly recommend any AR person look into this next year. It's a great way to kick off the season.

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Full Moon In June

Nordegg, Alberta

Race report by Wayne Nyman

"Be Careful What You Wish For”

What a mess. A huge rain storm delayed the race for almost a month. The flooding along the Rockies in central and southern Alberta was severe and even a month later the damage to the roads and trails was evident everywhere.

Like many of the other teams, our team, our dream team, was torn apart. We were set. We had it all figured out and were committed to this race being our best yet. With the delay, two of the team members were no longer able to make it. Two weeks before the race and we were already racing against a clock. We beat all the bushes and luckily we recruited two strong experienced racers, we were in.

One of the replacements, Scott called 48 hours before the race and described an affliction that sounded something that could be used for getting the truth out of enemies. He said he had severe flu like symptoms and was peeing blood. He’d been to the doctor and they put him on heavy duty antibiotics that were going to make it worse before it got better. He thought that maybe he would be OK? but to be fair to the team, we should look for a replacement.

There were a couple other leads that the team scrambled to follow up, no luck. 24 hours to go and we were debating our options. It was coming down to asking the Brian the race director if we could start the race unranked with 3 people. There was no one left.

Then we got a break. Marlene Bustos from the team “Stadium Dogs” called. One of their support, Eric was keen on learning about adventure racing and was going out to the race to help Marlene’s team. A very fit 50ish guy, Eric stepped up to the plate. The only problem was, he was already in Nordegg. He had his bike, but that was it. Being new to AR Eric didn’t have any of the mandatory or specific gear, he had also never trained at night. I knew Eric from the AR group here in Edmonton and thought we would be better off to start ranked and see what happened.

I got another gear bin and cleaned out my garage, throwing in anything I thought he might be able to use. Outdoor Pursuit was in the race with no expectations other than having a good time, laughing a lot and trying to get the team to the finish line.

Eric Ford was already in Nordeg, but with no gear. Every one else had to come from all over. Deb Harksen was coming from Edmonton , she was bringing her husband, Joel for support and her 2 year old daughter, Gretta for a mascot. Their problem was that Joel’s boss suddenly passed away the week before the race and the funeral was Friday afternoon, meaning they would getting to the start line with very little time to spare. Andrew Royle was coming from Houston , Texas . He flew to Calgary on the Thursday and rented a car to make it the rest of the way. I was bringing the support vehicle from Edmonton and had a buddy, Fargey coming along to help. Last was my brother Tony coming from Calgary to help with support as well. He was going to be there early and called to say he was on the road in the early afternoon.

I got to the Center for Outdoor Education, the host site for the race at about 5PM. I quickly snatched Eric away from the Stadium Dogs and got him to work going through my big pile of hand-me-down gear. I would not try this at home kids, but Eric did the whole race an old, well worn pair of trail runners I used for a season but found a little small. Eric looked like a veteran with his small box of mostly worn out gear, the transformation was complete.

Andrew arrived and began loading the camper and assembling his bike. He brought his girlfriend with him, so this meant we had a support person for each racer, we had become one of the best equipped teams there by accident.

It was 8PM and still no Deb or Tony. I knew Deb was going to be running it close, but I was very worried about Tony, it was only a 3 hour drive and it had been 8 hours since he called to say he was on his way. I drove into Nordeg and phoned every possible number I knew to try to track him down, hoping he was just lost, but fearing worse. When he did show up during the pre race meeting he said that after he called he realized he would be trying to sleep in an uncomfortable environment at the race site and if he could, he should snooze at home. If I hadn’t been so happy to see him, I would have killed him with my bare hands.

Now the pre-race meeting was over and still no Deb. We go back to the camper to wait in light spitting rain. Darren Hogarth from the team “Aged to Perfection” came over and said he had just talked to Deb and Joel and they were only minutes away. We got all our gear together for the gear check and called the race staff over to do the gear check as their car pulled into the lot. Deb was frantically getting her gear organized, it was now dark. We were all laughing at her story as we loaded the trailer. Joel was late coming from the funeral, Deb was sitting on the step fuming when he got home. They had no time, she had all her stuff out on the lawn and they threw it in the car and took off. After a little quiet time, which they got by giving Gretta a trekking pole to play with, they started talking about the race. Because Joel had no time to change when he got home he was still in his suit. They realized that, in their haste they forgot any clothes for Joel, he was now looking at 48 hours of living out of a camper in the bush in a suit. He scrounged through their car and found a pair of running tights and the FMIJ race t-shirt created his weekend ensemble. He couldn’t, however find any other shoes, wingtips would have to do.

Gretta on the other hand had figured out what trekking poles are really for. If you’re ever trapped in a car and can’t get out, what you have to do is take the tiny carbide tip of a pole and with the strength of a two year old, tap it against the window. Gretta demonstrated and the window exploded.

At the 10 minute warning we were ready, a team who finally met 1.5 hours before they set off on a 36 hour adventure race. We casually strolled up to the start line and when the race started we wandered off into the bush, not knowing what was in store, but feeling like we had already won something by just being there.

We have usually started races near the front of the pack and try to worry about our own route and pace, not to get sucked into some other team’s private hell. But this time was different. We were still getting to know one another. We followed the pack along the cut line, hung a left onto another trail and wandered along that, giving Eric some pointers and advice on how to handle the next 36 hours. After about 20 minutes the trail took a sweeping right turn, not part of the plan. My map case had been hanging at my side and I instantly knew we were on the wrong trail. I had everybody shut off their headlamps and get off the trail into the bush in the direction I thought we had to correct. It was now pitch black and raining lightly, I can’t even guess what was going on in Eric’s mind. Andrew patiently looked over my shoulder and waited for me to figure it out. Deb in the mean time thought this would be a great place to water the trees and leave an offering for the AR gods. She aggressively pounded her trekking poles, the ones that just smashed the window out of her car, into the ground and that’s where they still are today.

We took an intercept bearing and set off. After dropping into a little gully we ran into Marlene’s team “Stadium Dogs”. We said hi and didn’t give anything away, as soon as we were out of sight we turned out our lights again and snuck up the other side of the gully. It wasn’t until after the race that I found out that the navigator for Stadium Dogs was unable to race and Marlene was navigating for the first time. After all Marlene had done for us finding Eric, I felt bad after the fact for not pointing them in the right direction.

After crossing a small marsh we were on the right cut line and moving well. We were jogging and talking, everyone feeling good, passing team after team. Suddenly Eric lurches off the side of the trail and hits the ground with a yell. We stop and gather around him while he struggled to get back up. “There’s something I should tell you guys” he said “I have notoriously weak ankles”. He had rolled over on his ankle and injured it slightly, he assured us that it was minor and he could walk it off. Away we went again. I suggested that he use the trekking poles in his pack and that it would help him place his feet better. Using a headlamp was new to Eric and combining that with trekking poles he felt was too much, he would be fine. As we pick up speed again and hit some nice firm ground Eric lets out a scream and hits the ground like a ton of bricks. This time we gather around him, but we can’t get close or talk to him, he’s rolling around holding his ankle and yelling out in pain. We are about 1.5 hours into the race, in the rain, in the middle of a swamp with a team mate we don’t know who looks and is acting like his foot just broke off.

Eric settles down and through clenched teeth tells us that he is not going to quit, he will keep going. We all looked at one another, I shrugged and said “Use your poles.” From here on Eric was noticeably limping and obviously enduring quite a bit of pain, but he quickly learned the value of trekking poles.

We were only half way to CP1 and things weren’t looking good for the team. As we walked along the trail in single file, still moving at a brisk pace I talked it over with Andrew. We decided that we would keep going at whatever pace Eric could do, but if Eric said the word and even hinted at wanting to quit we would drop him off and continue unranked.

Cut lines can be an adventure racers best friend or worst enemy. These perfectly straight trails through the bush may have a trail on them or they may be totally overgrown, either way they are usually faster than bushwhacking. Unless the area is wet, cut lines have no regard for swamps, quite often the lines are put in in the winter and the ground is frozen, or they use equipment with tracks or huge tires that will float on the surface. Brian Gallant, the race director knows all about cut lines and the potential trap. As this cut line descended into a huge basin the map showed a swampy area with pockets of water. We approached and it felt firm, we decided to carry on and if it got too deep or tough we would traverse around the area on high ground. We could see lights from teams who were traversing so could judge our speed. We made a good choice. Although we fell through the mossy surface layer a few times we made great time compared to the teams off to the side. For the most part it felt like walking on a trampoline, a really wet mushy trampoline.

CP1. Again we felt victorious, this would be pretty much our attitude for the entire race. We were doing well, 5^th or 6^th. Feeling good we didn’t stick around. From here we had to go around or over a small mountain, then, still travelling basically north we would climb another small mountain to get to CP2. This leg was probably our best of the race, we made good choices and caught a few breaks with the quad trails that criss-cross the area. We were back and forth with team CANZAC, friends of mine from work. I think this fuelled Eric, the pace picked up to a jog. The sun was coming up, the rain had stopped and the skies cleared. We were looking at a beautiful day ahead of us. It was early morning when we jogged into the transition area where we were to move onto the raft leg on the mighty Blackstone River .

We were still in 5^th and feeling really good, we quickly grabbed our paddling gear and set off,….hiking. The flood had damaged the roads to the point that it was dangerous to allow vehicle traffic on it. There was about 8k of a hike to get to the boats, now with our paddling gear. Eric’s ankle was really bothering him on the hard packed gravel road so there would be no running. I was secretly thankful, my ankles were fine, but I really didn’t feel like running either. The windy road was actually quite pretty, the odd view of the river from the top of the hills, but honestly we all hated it, we wanted off our feet and into the boat. We were setting ourselves up for another big let down.

We grabbed a raft and blew it up, ran it down to the river and threw it in. Within minutes, make that seconds we had run aground. The flooding was evidently over and the overnight rain had done nothing to fill the river up. Our team had never paddled together, and we weren’t figuring it out very quickly. With Eric’s injury, he didn’t want to risk getting in and out of the boat when we ran up on rocks, we didn’t blame him, but it meant a huge amount of work to drag the thing over all the rock beds with him in it. We would try to point the boat toward the deepest water, then paddle to it. All we managed was turning the boat and broaching on everything we were trying to avoid. Near the Transition we left a few hours before, another small river spilled in and things got better. This paddle was a test for us and we were barely passing. At one point Andrew, who is a geologist by profession was looking at the rocky cliffs and commented on how bazaar and interesting the rock formations were. Thinking it may take everyone’s mind off the task at hand I said “Oh yah, how so?”. Andrew launched into something that was probably very interesting, but at the time he may as well have been speaking another language for all I know. The boat fell silent again. Only broken with the odd “PADDLE RIGHT, NO THE OTHER RIGHT! FUDGE!” Only I didn’t say fudge.

Just when we were on the verge of having our spirit broken a fast sweeping left turn came up. Off the river’s edge, a couple feet up from the water level was a dead tree leaning out over the water. These obstacles are notoriously dangerous and we panicked to manoeuvre the boat away. The combination of the fast water and the centrifugal force of the turn kept us heading for the log, our being tired and the fact that we had come to realize that we sucked at paddling didn’t help the situation. We were paddling like mad and it was looking like we might just clear it, all Deb had to do was duck. Deb was too busy paddling to realize that and none of us thought to tell her. As the log swept over the corner of the boat it caught Deb in the chest and plucked her from the boat. With her arms wrapped around the tree the ice cold current piled up behind her forcing her under the log further. The raft had spun around and we were paddling furiously to stay up with her. I was yelling Deb to let go quickly while we were still near so we could pull her back into the boat, we were losing the fight. Deb’s grip began to weaken and she slipped under the log, popping up on the other side. She grabbed on to the raft and we ran the raft into an eddie. We dumped the boat out and collapsed on the shore in a fit of laughter. Our near miss seemed to finally snap us out of our zombie like state. We still sucked at paddling, but we were back to having fun. The Full Moon staff had warned us about the debris along the river’s edge left by the flood, now that Deb had become part of it we called her Debris for the rest of the race.

By the time we came around the last bend and saw the TA2 sign we were getting very cold. It was a beautiful day, but the water was like ice and we hadn’t been drinking or eating very well. After dragging the boat to the drop off place, we stripped off our wet clothes and sat in the sun, stuffing ourselves with bananas, hot dogs and whatever other junk food we could find.

Like any adventure race the team usually looks forward to the ending of any section and the start of a new discipline, never more so than this time. Rule number 1 in this race was becoming “Be careful what you wish for.” We had lost a lot of time to Team CANZAC but were still happy with how things were going. We were off on our mountain bikes. A quick bike up the road, then a zip line with our bikes tangled up underneath us. Interesting team challenge with the zip line. There was no one on the far side to help the first racer off the line, somehow the racer had to unhook themselves and their bike alone, then they could help the others as they came across. Andrew took one look at the task and volunteered, he shot across and had barely come to a stop when he popped off, jumped down, unhooked his bike and was ready. Part man, part monkey.

Once we were all across we reorganized ourselves and our gear. We watched a friend, Gary, struggle trying to get off the line for a couple seconds then gave him a hand before setting off on what looked like about a 600 meter bike whack to get on to another cut line. On the map the cut line didn’t look like such a great choice, lots of steep hills, but there didn’t appear to be any other options. There also was an unimproved road shown that contoured around the ugliest of the hills near the end which sold the decision. It was about 6 k to the next CP and we were anxious to get pedalling so we quickly bashed our way through the bush onto the cut line. The cut line was overgrown and it seemed to be either too steep to ride up or down. We toughed it out and at the top of the highest hill there was a small clearing, the sun was blazing away, we took a short break and had a bite to eat in the warm sun. Eric seemed to be fine even though we were walking the whole way. Amazingly, the team’s spirits were up we felt that everyone would have to go through this and there didn’t seem to be a faster way, so we kept plodding along. We were still within sight of CANZAC which also helped fuel the fire.

At the bottom of the gully that was supposed to have the trail that contoured around the worst of the terrain we found no trail. Realizing that it would be a huge undertaking to keep going on the cut line up and down these huge hills, I wandered into the bush to look for the trail. About 10 meters in I found the trail blazes on the trees, the intersection with the cut line had been obscured with new willow trees. Being my usual devious self, I called to the team and had everyone come off the cut line from separate directions so we wouldn’t leave a trail. The strategy worked, a lot of the teams carried on up and down, taking hours longer. We caught up with CANZAC and made our way up the creek bed together. They got away on us again as we made the final push up a newly cleared right of way, Brian was waiting for us at the CP, although he seemed fine I’m not sure he was getting the positive race feedback he hoped for.

We had been on our bikes for about 4 hours and finally got to ride them, we slowly made our way up the gravel road to the pass and flew down the other side into the next CP. It was early evening and everyone felt great, we were laughing and joking around. This CP was the location for the first transition, a CP on the raft and now a CP for the bike. We were on the last section of a huge figure 8. A bike to the Wapiabi gap, an entry pass into the Rockies , all on Gravel roads, only 1 large easy hill stood between us and the final trekking section. Eric was hanging in there, we had been going for about 20 hours, more than twice anything Eric had tried before, he looked drawn but was still in the game. As we made our way up the long boring hill, about 600feet vertical over 2.3 k, Andrew Kept everyone entertained. Deb was doing fine on her own, I was hitting a bit of a low and was riding behind with Eric. Andrew would drop back and put his had on someone’s pack and give them a little push, you could shift up a couple gears and away you go. After the pair got a bit ahead, Andrew would drop back and get another. Truly amazing.

The sun was still shining in the late evening when we rolled into the final TA. Solidly in 5^th place and feeling strong. The grinding away on the gravel roads and pushing our bikes along the nasty cut line, made us anxious to get back on to what was apparently our teams strong point, trekking? At this point we had a decision to make, we had to carry on with the regular course, or challenge the advanced course. I quickly plotted the points and as a team we decided not to risk the advanced. The team had to finish in 36 hours the team would be disqualified. Two teams ahead of us chose the regular course, including the team in 1^st place. The other two, Spirit and CANZAC went for it. I talked with Sean, the captain of CANZAC as they set off, told him he was crazy and wished him luck.

Our team goal was to finish, and keeping with our objective we set of on the hike with high spirits. The sun was setting, it was still warm and clear and we passed the next team coming in as we left, we figured we had 5^th sewn up, maybe 3^rd if the teams on the advanced course had as tough of a time as I thought they were in for.

The last section was a hike with 3 CPs, about 25 km. There was a cut line, again, that seemed to connect the dots. I tossed the idea around of trying to contour and save energy. We decided to take the most obvious route even if it meant more work. It was getting dark and we were slowing down, both physically and mentally. As we ground our way straight up the first small mountain there was a flash of lightning coming from the direction of the advanced course. I laughed and told everyone that if it rained the two teams on the advanced course would be screwed. I made a joke about doing a rain dance and was answered with another flash and louder rumble of thunder. 10 minutes later as we reached the top of the first ridge it started to spit and we all thought we were in 3^rd place now for sure. 10 minutes after that it was raining so hard that we had to yell to be heard and there was lightning and thunder everywhere. We took a little break to put our rain gear on. Because it was so nice when we set off, all we packed was the mandatory gear, a long sleeved shirt and a shell. Andrew thought it would pass, so opted not to put his pants, toughing it out in his baggy shorts.

The visibility worsened as the rain poured down, the ground was steaming and it became foggy in the trees. We were on the right cut line, I was sure of that, but a trail kept crossing the line. I suspected the trail was a switchback trail that basically followed the overgrown line we were on, but with less than 100 meters visibility if we went off the cut line for more than a few meters we would never find it again. As we reached the bottom of the first valley the bush got so thick that others wanted to try the trail, I was not convinced that it wouldn’t wander off in another direction, so I had them hike the trail while I bush whacked the cut line, using our headlamps and yelling to make sure we were still together.

At the bottom of the next valley the trail linked up for a while, we were all walking together for a change. I had been noticing these huge frogs that had come out in the rain and were out the trail. They were about the size of the palm of my hand and as I spotted one I quickly pointed and yelled at everyone to look. Eric was right beside me and had a bit of a delayed reaction, not stopping instantly, but instead looking at me. He did come to a stop, but not until he accidentally booted the poor frog back into the trees. All I saw was legs flailing in the air as the frog disappeared. “What, What?” Eric cried out in alarm. I found myself standing there pointing at his feet with a dumb look on my face. “Oh, nothing” I said and kept walking.

We found the next CP without any problem, we were being very careful and constantly watching the compass and the terrain. As we reached the top of the final ridge, the trail headed off to the west. We followed the trail because we had to drop into the valley to the west anyway and follow that creek to the next CP. At the edge of the valley we ran into Team Pure, an unranked team of 4 guys. They were sitting at the top of what I thought was the trail we needed. I talked with their navigator for a bit, they had been down the trail twice and said it turned at the bottom and headed north, we needed to go south. They were giving up and trying to head back the way we had come. It was impossible to see anything, the rain was coming down steadily and it was pitch black with fog. It was 600 ft of vertical to descend and there was no way Pure was going back down for a 3^rd time. I felt good about it and wanted to check it out anyway. As we neared the bottom of the valley, sure enough the trail turned right and seemed to head north. My plan was to go to the bottom anyway and if there was nothing else we would follow the creek out. About 100 meters later the trail turned left and came all the way around to the south. The trail was just contouring around a re-entrant and if Pure would have gone a 100 meters farther they’d have seen it, now we thought we had moved into 2^nd and were laughing and joking again. We shuffle jogged the 4.5 km to CP12 to stay warm. The CP had a couple soaked volunteers in a tent who were very happy to see us. They said a lot of teams were on the radio complaining that the CPs were in the wrong locations. I asked him how many had been through and we almost fell over when they told us we were it, the only ones. We were now in 1^st place and all we had to do was hike on trails to the last CP and then the finish.

We were off again and now confident we had it wrapped up, we were through the worst of it. We made our way down the road looking for the turn off onto the trail to the last CP. We ignored the first turn off as it was a new road and wouldn’t be the one on our old map. Farther along we came to a bridge, we had gone too far. The only turn off we saw was the new road. I reasoned that they must have put the new road over the old one. We had to turn back and try it. Our team started to fade at that very moment. At the pre-race there was a hint given “If you’re on a new road it’s probably not the one on the map”. We were using very old maps.

We were all very cold now. Andrew put on his mountain biking knee warmers and he and Deb were using their sleeping bags as ponchos. Eric was still toughing it out but looking really rough and ragged. His normally bouncy walk/limp was now a shuffle. The second night in these races is the killer for new people to the sport. It’s very hard to train for it and even though we told Eric what we thought he could expect, it was hitting him very hard. We had been on a high all night with on success after another, now we stumbled and the team was falling apart.

We backtracked 1km and started off down the new road. I was watching for any sign to take a bearing off or put to the map. For the first time in the race, I wasn’t feeling 100% about what was happening. I’m walking along this closed off forestry road in ankle deep mud next to Eric, we’re talking, trying to stay alert. Eric suddenly says “Car!” and starts moving to the side of the road. I look at him, he says “There’s a car coming, move off the road”. As he gestures behind us he realizes that there is no car, in fact it would be impossible to get any vehicle down the road we were on. We shrug together and keep walking. After the race Deb said she kept seeing new subdivisions in the trees with apartment buildings, wondering why people would want to live way out there.

We were about 2.5 k up the road, it looked like the CP was about 4 k. Deb and I were now walking in front. “Tell me a story, I’m dying” Deb said. It had been very quiet, still raining steadily with a dull cold grey morning light. We start chatting about nothing and get lost in the conversation. Deb looks back and says “Holy crap, where did they go!”

We jog back around a corner and there they are, Eric was freezing and couldn’t take it any more. Andrew was wrapping him in a space blanket and getting his rain coat on over top of that to try to warm him up. “Something has to happen!” Eric exclaimed with a wide eyed, deer in the headlights look. “Like what?” I asked. He wasn’t seeing results and sensed my own uncertainty. It was draining him of his will to carry on. I asked the others what they thought we should be doing if not following this road. They were all unanimous that we were on the wrong road, I had lost the faith of the team. It shouldn’t have been a surprise as I wasn’t entirely convinced myself.

We made a deal. We would start off heading straight east, to find the cut line we needed. At that point we would decide on going to the CP or going to the finish line and seeing if we could warm up. We still had over 5 hours to get the last CP. After the race I plotted the point we headed off and we were less that 1 k from the last CP.

After heading east for about 15 minutes it became apparent that Eric was in rough shape. We decided to head straight for the finish. If they would let us warm up without being penalized, we would change, warm up and go get the CP. If not we would at least know exactly where we were and we would follow the same trail we had travelled on at the start of the race. We crashed through the bush and stumbled into the finish area at about 8:00AM.

It was still drizzling and cold as we walked up to the tent at the finish line. There were cars and campers everywhere but it was very quiet. One of the volunteers came out of the main building and spotted us. He came running down the hill.

“Thank god you’re here, we’ve been wondering what happened to you.”

He continued congratulating us for winning the race. We told him that we weren’t actually done and asked him if we would be disqualified if we warmed up and changed before getting the last CP. He said we wouldn’t have to get it if we didn’t want to. Our goal was to finish the race, we(I) were set on getting that damn CP.

“You don’t understand” he told us we were the only people to finish. All the other teams had quit or not allowed to continue at the last TA, we were the only ones to cross the finish line. We won the race. Hearing that we didn’t have to go back out, Eric quickly, quietly said congratulations to everyone and stumbled off to the Stadium Dogs camper.

At the awards ceremony afterward we heard the story of the race and the storm that all but ended the race for the other teams. When they called our team up, nothing can describe the feeling of the recognition we received. We had done something special, it was unbelievably hard, yet at that moment, worth every hour of preparation, every dollar spent, every ounce of sweat.

The FMIJ company gave us a 2.5 hour penalty for missing the last CP as was their prerogative in the race rules. This still put us under the 36 hour time limit. In the weeks to follow the race the local AR website was alive with chat strings and reports of unfair treatment of our team, that we had in fact DNF’d and victory was no ones. I ignored most, but truth be told, it stole some of the win from me.

I have since returned to the area and hike the advanced section that no one had the opportunity to attempt. The weather was beautiful and warm. The trails were dry and packed. It was a magical hike that would have rivalled any highlight section of any race. Mother Nature can make Heaven or Hell right here on earth.

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Raid the North Nelson

Nelson, British Columbia

By Mike Melnick

The Prelude

The build up to this race felt different than in the previous ones. I felt calm, relaxed, no butterflies. It was the same sort of calm that I had felt for Full Moon in June prior to the date change. Physically, there were no surprises that Geoff and his course designer could through at our team that would prevent us from finishing. All of us were well versed in racing under harsh conditions. Finishing or not came down to whether or not we could eliminate the major navigational screw-ups that seems to plague our team in the early phases of every race.

The previous two weeks had been a whirlwind of reviewing maps and looking at various forestry and satelite websites. Now that we had arrived in town, I was spending my time prowling the various sporting stores, plying the locals with questions. Now with $100 of map info in my hands, I felt reasonably comfortable about going into the backcountry around Nelson.

The last anxiety producing phase was the check-in. Raid races are notoriously thorough with their gear checks and when your teammates show up with 'all' their gear at the parking lot and then proceed to empty out all their bins trying to organize it, it causes concern. I forced myself to relax by remnding myself that all of them had raced these sorts of races before and knew what they were doing, besides, they had all come straight from work to here, so having everything pre-organized would've been difficult for them.

The check-in went smoothly as I had hoped. I had to chuckle when the organizer was insisting on seeing our support team's tent. We had Wayne's battle wagon trailer back in the parking lot, but how do you bring that into the park to show them?

The CountDown

At the race briefing, a bunch of familiar faces showed up to hear the first cursory speech from Geoff. Wild Rose was ready for action, I'm with Stupid and Stadium Dogs were also there. Additionally, big names, Trevor Baine, Kevin Hakl, Scott Pennel had teamed up with Cindy Koo to put together an all star team at the last minute. Some of the other teams that I didn't know included heavy weights like Dirt World racing, Lawrence Foster from HoloFibre and Team Hurl. It seemed clear that with a field of this calibre of competitors, FAR was probably going to get their finish rate up no matter how hard the course was.

The start was in a town about 60 km north of Nelson called Kaslo. Wayne and I took a few minutes to drive up to the published turn off to be sure that we'd know where it was. It was going to be a slog to get up to the bench above, but from what we saw, it was going to be a fast first leg.

The FAR team had worked hard to pump up the race to the locals and there were a number of people that were out to cheer us on. Prior to the start, our team hung out in the pizzeria at the corner. While we ate, we answered a number of questions from a few people in the restaurant. I think I actually sounded like I knew what I was doing.

Eventually, we made our way back down to the start line. After a last minute panicky tire pump up, we were in the starting pack. The competitors were treated to a fire twirler and a percussion group while we all nervously bantered with each other.

The Fast Start

And then go. Once the teams choked through the start arch, the field started to spread out a little. Although we had seeded ourselves in the middle of the start pack, it seemed like we were getting passed a lot. Even when we were heading up the Wagon road, there were a number of teams around us. Don't get me wrong, we passed a bunch of people, so I'm pretty sure that it was a pass-then-be-passed scenario. The most dramatic pass back was at a little bridge over a creek. And in the creek was a racer slowly dragging himself up the embankment. I found out later that he had tried to ride the heavily rutted end of the bridge and had one of those off balance moments sending him rolling into the creek. yikes! Glad he was ok.

We rolled into the first transition in 6th place. Not bad. To top it off, our support team had scored a parking spot right next to the check in spot. Our tranny was done in 6 minutes and we were heading out in 5th place. This passing teams in transition was something that happened throughout the race.

The Trek

From this point, there wasn't much to look forward to. We knew that the road was going to climb and climb. In total, we had to gain around 1600 m over the next 12-15 km. Additional instructions had been given to everyone at the race briefing to watch for a left hand turn at about 800 m up the road. Lots of flagging, obvious turn, blah, blah. The only turn we saw was at about 1.5 km. And if we were to believe the map, it showed that it led to a bunch of switch backs that gained a heap of elevation before being caught up to by the lower road. "This can't be the one" So we continued along the road that went straight up the valley. Sure enough, after another 1 or 2 kms, the road petered off into a trail and then vanished. We bushwhacked a little and then found a trail. The trail would disappear and reappear until we finally decided to climb up for the higher road. In all, I suppose we lost about 30 minutes, assuming of course that the switchbacks we could've taken earlier did indeed continue as indicated on the map.

Eventually, everyone would have to do some bushwhacking. After the high road met up with the creek again, the suggestion at the race briefing was to tough out the bush whack in the valley bottom. The race course had been laid out in a somewhat rigid fashion. Contrary to the past where multiple route choices were evident and contrary to FMIJ's plethora of possible routes, this race had few options to get from CP to CP. That said, even when there were some small options, hints had been given (for safety reasons I suspect) to keep teams on the intended route. So everyone was going to end up going through the same sections of forest.

We had been playing leap frog with Trevor's team and it was intersting to watch their headlamps as each of our teams tried different lines through the woods. We tried high on the left for a while and low near the creek. Regardless, it seemed that the bushes would be thick for about 30 m at a time and then let up for 30 m. I actually found it kinda fun. I felt like I was seeking out some fortune deep in an unexplored forest. It felt like a video game, right Indiana?

At sunrise, we were walking around the shores of a couple of lakes that fed the stream that flowed through this valley. At this point we could finally see the saddle the marked the end of the valley. The next challenge was being sure which peak was which. It looked so simple on the map, but gobs of time could be lost if we focused on one peak only to find it was the wrong one. We decided on which one to attack and slowly clambered up the morraine to the saddle point.

We made it to the saddle only to find that our planned assault route to the summit was barred by a cliff that ran for about a km. We were going to have to traverse around the base of the cliff to get to the gentler slopes on the south side. While we were traversing, we heard the dreaded yell "ROCK!" A team was above the cliff and presumably heading for the summit and they had dislodged a rock. I froze in my tracks and looked up at the cliff. I could hear the rocks rolling and picking up speed, but I couldn't see anything yet. I flexed my knees to be ready for a mad dash left or right. It was at that moment that a large head sized rock flew off the cliff to my right. It landed about 50 m away from me travelling at about 80-100 kph. It was followed by another and another and then a double sized rock. That's when Sean yelled below 'Rock'. One of the lead teams was lower down and directly in the line of fire. I had visions of a repeat of Primal Quest last year as the rocks continued to pour over the cliff. In all, it took nearly a minute of steady rock fall before things quietened down again.

Our speed through the bushwhack was somewhat careful and crawling across a side slope was similarly slow. Not suprisingly, when we reached an apparently scramblable pitch we were eager to see if it would work. Testing out the lower few moves proved it would work, but without seeing over the side and with the previous display of rock fall, we were disuadded from using that route. We continued around the conventional way and then on up the rocks to the top of the peak. Part way up we chatted w/ Brent, Bart, Mike and Veronica of Wild Rose. They told of spectacular views awaiting us up top. Our efforts to the top were rewarded and if I had developed the film, I'd have scanned and included the pics. Awesome! Thanks Geoff.

The trek down was going to take us down an adjacent valley to a ghost mining town. In order to get to it, we started down a single track trail. Initially, it was rife with heel rolling pebbles that threatened to drop you on your ass with every step. Once the slope relented and the footing improved, numerous log falls slowed our progress. We did the best we could along this trail, but with safety at the forefront of our efforts, our speed was slower than we would have liked.

The organizers had hinted to the teams to reach the remnants of a rock slide and to 'pay attention'. Presumably, there was another trail to pick up. After passing one or two avalanche paths, Wayne had noticed a bomber logging road at the bottom of the valley. We decided that we couldn't wait for the rock slide area and we bushwhacked down the hill to this road. Smart move because as we passed the rock slide, we realized that descending the rocks would've been sketching and slow. After the race, we talked with Trevor and his team had continued to the slide area to descend and yes, it sucked.

Once on the road we jogged towards the town of Cody where TA2 and our bikes awaited. Along the way we noticed it heating up and we noticed the trail we were on rising higher and higher above us. Good thing we didn't wait too long.

The Grind

TA2 was a slow transition for us. Once we got under way, we quickly found the next town of Slodan and began making our way up to Idaho peak (another 1600 m of climbing) The first portion of the ride wasn't too bad because there was substantial amounts of shade. The only troublesome part was the fact that the road we were using didn't match anything on the map. At this point, I was taking a turn on the navigation and as usual, I felt the need to assure myself that I knew where we were. Eventually, I gave up and relied on the road signs. During the climb, a couple teams passed us. It seemed dangerous to hammer hard on the bike up this behemoth slope in such heat. We tried to keep pace with the oher teams, but eventually, we had to just let them go.

I kept checking my altimeter, so when we crested a bench area and saw the switchbacks ahead of us, it wasn't a total surprise. Unfortunately, it didn't quell the awe that I felt looking up at these huge, long, steep switchbacks cutting back and forth along the grassy and shadeless slope. It felt like the trek up Mt. Hammel in the Death Race. It was a slog, no doubt, but like everything in a race, just keep working at a sustainable pace and eventually, you will crest any hill presented to you. After a quick photo op and snack, we started the descent.

The Vertigo

The descent was not for the faint of heart. The trail itself wasn't that bad, but it was etched into the side of a very steep slope. The really spooky stuff was only for the first 100 m or so. Then it became more of a Moose-Packers like trail, but narrower. My mantra was 'Just look at the next 3m' Pity because the few glimpses of the valley below that I dared take were absolutely breathtaking. (Thanks Geoff!) Ok, I suck at switchbacks regardless. I haven't figured out the timing of weight transfer for them, so out of the 20 or so, I attempted about 6 and successfully completed 2 of those. The 'in-between' bits were great fun including some tech-ish roots and tiny drops. I love full suspension bikes.

The roads into Silverton were the usual fire road sort and we all took them a little easy to be sure we didn't get bucked by some ruts or something. Once in town, we took the long way to the transition and then into TA3 in 8th.

The Paddle

Again, we passed two teams in transition. Into the boats for an evening paddle on Slocan Lake into Slocan River. It took me a half hour to remember the finer points of paddling. Team Hurl was nearly caught up to us when we finally started making more of an effort to our forward progress. I have to say that our teammate, Sean was a machine in the paddle. Wayne and I were having trouble keeping up with him and Jen. And at one point, he decided to see how much of a dent he could make in the time gap behind the next team in the distance and the two of them were totally leaving us behind. Amazing!

We made it into the river before nightfall. That was good because there was a log fence preventing a nearby pulp mill's logs from floating down the river. Finding the entrance to that jam would've been tricky at night. The down side was that once on the river, the flies were flowing over my face like water! I was constantly brushing them off as they landed in my eyebrows and hair. And then, the bats came out and were eating the flies. That was helpful until they flew into Jen's head. Sorry Jen, but that's a little funny.

The final few bends in the river were sharp. In the dark, seeing the change in direction was impossible until you were within a few meters away. It was freaky to suddenly see grass tops appearing out of the blackness. Eventually, we wised up and followed the direction that the weeds in the water were pointing.

By the time the paddle was finishing, my back was rife with pain. It was clear that I hadn't done enough for the paddling discipline. The take out point was tricky. There was only enough room to pull up two canoes, the slope was very steep, everyone was hypothermic and to top it off, as soon as you were 'beached', the volunteers unloaded a storybook of instructions for what you are to do. Unfortunately, I was too cold to do much to help the team. I spent the first few minutes throwing on every shred of clothing I had. Wayne had caught the instructions and was pulling the load for us. Teamwork!

The Belay

Once we had gotten the canoes sorted out and once each of the team members had themselves straightened away, we climbed the embankment towards the zip line start. Along the way, we heard Trevor's team romping through the woods. It turned out that their team were the first to attempt to find the zip in the dark and spotting pink flagging tape was tough. Especially when they were told a distance to the zip that was way shorter that it actually was. We hollered out to them when we found the next bit of trail and then we quickly hiked up to the start of the zip. There were two parallel lines, so at least we wouldn't hold them up on the lines.

The traverse itself was pretty much a point to relax. We hooked up on a steep angled zip and were belayed over the river. Once on the other side, the team took off for TA4 which was close by.

The Decision

We had talked about what we would do if we arrived at TA4 in time to do the advanced course. I think that between how tired we felt and the past lessons learned of Wild Rose in Vernon, we assumed that if we were running close to the cut off for the advanced course, we'd probably just forego it. Combine that with the desire to just finish officially, it wasn't hard to say, 'Regular Course'. We packed up our stuff and once again left TA in 5th place.

The Zombie Bike

I knew that the bike was going to be a challenge to stay awake. I had no idea that I would be missing 20-30 minutes of memory while doing it. It's a good thing we had a bike computer to keep our timing in check. Trying to do distance estimates based on time would've been impossible.

Trying to keep a straight line was another problem. I was thanking my stars that the bike ride wasn't too technical or there'd have been a few crashes. We reached the checkpoint by the lakes without incident.

Then the descent. Again caution dictated over speed. Heading down the bumpy road, we kept a steady and reasonable pace. We stayed together way better than I've seen in the past. Especially when we hit the black top and proceeded to rip down roads at 50-60 kph. I couldn't stop thinking about the possbility of a deer popping out and one of use getting clothes lined. I wonder what the deer would do in that situation. Would it just run, or would it kick first.

The Bridge that Didn't Grow

The final paddle was about 10 km. Just over an hour and I'd be able to sleep. In fact, from the put in point, we could see the bridge that stood above the take out and that bridge stayed the same size for an hour. Gee whiz, everytime I'd look up, I'd say to myself, 'just a km to go, that's only 10 minutes of this tomfoolery' But it never grew until the last ten minutes. Exactly about the time that Sean decided he'd drafted off of me and Wayne long enough and he surged ahead. Well, I certainly had a new level of respect for that guy's paddling skills!

Then it was up the glow stick runway with the canoes in hand to the official finish line. We crossed the line in 6th (it would turn out to be 7th due to another team's accumulated time credits) at 4:45 am Sunday morning and it was done.

The Aftermath

The morning after was spent napping, packing, moving stuff around. The highlight was split between the giant nap under the shady trees in the park (mmmmmmm) and the dinner buffet (wow!!). The awards were short and sweet. We had a few tales regaled from various teams. The finish rate was very high. Well over 50% of the starting teams were ranked and all but one finished the course. This, I suspect, is due to the ideal weather conditions, the route hints given at the race briefing and the limited options for routes that were available given the CPs.

In all, the race was a fantastic course. The high views, adventurous terrain and the high success rate made for a good race. Although it wasn't ideally suited for our team's navigational strengths and there was some small regret at not having done the advanced course (it was later revealed that the cutoff for the advanced section was rather early, contrary to Vernon last year, to allow for a higher success rate of teams that undertook it), we still had a bunch of fun. And man, it feels good to finish one of these courses!

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Half Moon In September

Sundrie, Alberta

by Mike Melnick

It was nice to be at a place that felt familiar for a 'training day'. My friend Joey and I had just driven up to the Mountain Aire Lodge for the third Half Moon in September. We walked into the conference area and it was like a big old reunion. Race Directors Brian and Tara along with friend (and Race the Rockies Director) Adelle were right inside the door. How much more comfortable can you feel the night before a race when greeted by good friends?

At the racer briefing, we received the maps and it was revealed that we would be starting on the bikes. We carefully looked at the maps for potential routes and it seemed clear which route the course designer was trying to get us to take. However, this was a training day, why not try something creative? "Hmmm, we could backtrack on the trunk road and use this other road"... " and we could bug out on this cutline and go to the Panther road" We even spent the evening driving to the junctions to scope out the quality of the trails. "It'll be interesting to find out if it helps," we thought.

We woke up to a crisp morning complete with a layer of frost on everything. Thankfully, it was already warming up and the forecast was for a warm, pleasant day. Once the usual morning fumbling around was complete, we were on the start line all ready to go. "Ok, we don't want teams using the Panther road," said Brian. Well, so much for plan A, I guess we're taking the backcountry cutline.

"3...2...1...Go!"

We were off. We dropped the hammer right out of the gates. Why not? In a few seconds we were slotted into second place behind another really fast team. The road was only 4 km to the first CP and we were holding steady about 50-100 m behind the first team. It was easy to pretend that this was a typical morning commute, so I kept pouring on the power to make the bike go faster.

"Who are these guys? I can't catch them!" I wanted to draft off of them. "How inconsiderate ;)" Even at almost 40 kph, we couldn't make distance on them. Joey and I even took turns pulling to try and reel them in. Too bad the two teams behind us didn't take any turns on the front. Lazy bums! :)

By the time we reached the CP, my fingers were frozen solid. "I knew I should have put on my over mitts." We popped up over the berm and onto the quad trail. We were only on the trail for about 10 minutes when up ahead of the lead team, a trio of large grizzly bears popped out of the bush to the left. They were big and they were curious. They stood on their hind legs and directed their attention to us funny looking creatures. It was scary and thrilling at the same time. Given the quantity of people coming towards them, they darted off into the woods. Phew!

As we continued on the pipeline trail, the lead team slowly worked their way out of sight. We were amongst a number of other teams that were all about the same speed. After a few tricky turns and challenging hike-a-bikes, we were by ourselves. "Some training day, my lungs hurt," I thought. Thankfully we were only five minutes from the top of the climbing and a pleasant downhill to the next CP. From there, a rolling trail to the transition.

We got into transition 1 and we kept it quick. Of course, it helped having Wayne to plot the points while I filled my pie-hole with food. We took up the challenge to take on the advanced course. How neat, Brian and his team had set it up so that there were three ways to get at the checkpoint. Around to the north, around to the south or straight up and over.

We waded across the Panther River and set up the trail that would bring us parallel to the ridgeline. For some reason, at this point, we decided to go conventional and trek around to the north and attack the pass from there. In hindsight and from heresay, the up and over route choice was the fastest provided you could avoid getting cliffed out on the way up. Ah well, at least the small amount of bushwhack we had was quite fun. With good footing and spaced out
trees, we were able to clock about 5-6 kph through the forest. The difference was probably about 30 minutes
between the two routes.

Near the top of the pass, the lead team was coming back down. Ah, it was Tom Zidek. That's why they
were so fast! :) Way cool. He told us about the really scenic lake waiting for us a little further up. We couldn't wait. In fact, we were so eager, we descended off the trail in the the woods and bushwhacked about 500 m up the valley to the north edge of the lake. Can't get enough of that bushwhack, I guess.

We marched back down towards CP6 and despite a slight detour, we made our way to the river crossing. After
wading through the hip deep Red Deer river, we rolled into the TA in third-ish place.

At first, the paddle was a lot of fun. We carved our way around the outside of the turns to catch the fast
water. Not once did we have to get out to get the canoe unstuck. Well, somewhere just after the Red
Deer merged with the Panther River, the flow went over a series of rocks. Yup, all good things must end and
we dumped. No big deal, we pushed the boat to the calmer waters on the right, dragged the boat out, emptied it and got going again. Our spirits were still high because we knew we were within 4 km of the boat drop and we had a
significant hiking section that would warm us up in a hurry. We even had presence of mind to taxi in close
to our third paddle that was floating away and grab it.

Yah, we grabbed that paddle just in time to hit a merging of two river flows. Something from my childhood about my dad saying "steer the boat first, everything else second" came to mind. "Lean downstream I said." We leaned, I swear! But it wasn't enough. The undercurrent pulled the boat the other way and dumped us very fast. Ah crap! Well, let's get out of this. Same thing a second time except we were now very close to the steep banks on the left side of the river. We got ready and launched a second time. But we couldn't get away from the bank. One sweeper, then a big one. The boat pushed up against it and the current starting plowing upstream of the boat. "What now?" asked Joey. "We capsize," I replied. Yup, a second later, the water spilled over the gunnels and over we went again.
We were drifting with an upside down boat again. Then, I saw it a moment before it happened. An underwater log with a number of branches brushed against my feet. Then suddenly, the boat jerked, the water plowed up over it and sucked the stern to the bottom of the river. I tossed my paddle to Joey as he floated by while I held onto the boat. I watched as he got sucked into a big hydraulic that was just downstream of us. I watched his head bob through and
pop out the other side. Downstream of him was lots of calm water, so I figured he'd be able to eddy out.

The day had suddenly gotten serious. Our boat's throw bag was tangled up on an underwater sweeper and under
this strong, deep, cold current, getting the boat moving again was going to be trouble. I pulled myself along side the boat next to the shore. The cold water rushed around me and I could feel it sucking my strength away. I had to get my pocket knife, but my gear was in my pack which was attached to the canoe's cross beam.

I stood next to where I figured the cross beam would be and plunged myself neck deep to try and pull out my
pack. It took three tries, but I eventually wiggled it out to the side. By the time I tried to unbuckle it, my arms were numb from the elbows down. I would have to try and pull out my mandatory gear from the pack. Good thing it's all in a single sack inside. To bad I have to undo a zipper to get to it. It was another minute or two fighting against that
current to try and get the zipper down. I would set the pack in a place where I could use both hands to get at the zipper and I would have about 2 seconds before the current would pile up a foot of water over the pack. After swearing at the water, I was finally able to pull the zipper down. Unfortunately, all I was left with were two frozen claws for hands and two frozen stumps for legs. I had about another minute before the water would suck so much energy out of me that I wouldn't be able to get out. Man, that was cold!

On the third try, I snagged the gear pouch and my synthetic undershirt. I clasped them hard as I stumbled and struggled to get on shore. I had to get out of the water, now! The bank was very steep and my legs weren't working very well. It was a monumental effort to get my carcass onto higher ground and into the sunshine. About that time, Joey appeared from above. He had gathered the paddles and hiked back upstream to where the canoe was. He was shivering like a jackhammer. So was I. We layed on the bank in the sun and shivered. The warm sun was having a positive effect. In fact the dirt on the slope was being warmed to a pleasant temperature and so I took handfuls of pine
needles and poured them on top of me. They were warm, I was cold... It seemed like a good idea.

35 minutes passed before our shivers came under control again. In that time, not a single boat had come by. I wondered if the rescue teams were working overtime to pluck people from the river. It would've been easy to throw in the towel at that point. The road was only 100 m away. We could flag down a vehicle, get them to call Dave from Rocky Mtn Rescue and with some rope and pulley system, we could pull the boat free, but that would be a DNF. Oh, so easy.

Joey and I evaluated the scene. We had a plan as to how to hang on to the boat once we got it free and we
even had a plan on how to get around the class II+ hole just downstream of us. What we didn't really have was a plan to get the boat unstuck. "Well, let's try and yank the rope a bit at a time."

At about this moment, another team came by. "Do you want us to throw you a line?" "Yah!" In the space of
about three seconds, they had already drifted past us. "Just keep going" we said as we waved them on. It
was too late. They went through the hole and Fwip! Over they go. I felt bad, but at least they eddied
out quickly and were ok. Thanks for trying guys, it was appreciated!

This was the toughest part. Wading back into that fast, cold water. Then sinking my arms under the
sweeper to feel for the rope. The water plowed around me while I worked the rope back to the yoke where it
was attached. The boat still didn't move. I got out of the water for a moment.

"Ok, I'm going to give it the heave-ho" Joey had set up a beautiful tie down spot once the canoe was
moving. I got in there, braced myself and lifted on that rope with all my strength. Suddenly, Bang! the
rope moved, the canoe shifted and started floating downstream.

"Joey, here's the rope!" I said as I tossed him the throw line. He quickly tied it to the branch and as
he finished he said, "It's the wrong end" Uh oh, the boat wasn't attached to the throw line anymore. We
both watched as it went through the hole and popped out the other side. I grabbed the throw line and
paddles and charged up the shore to the road. I ran downstream about 150 m and crashed through the woods
to the river's edge.

We got seriously lucky, the boat was wedged on some rocks in the shallows. We rolled the boat and Joey
asks me, "Do you want to try it again or portage it?" 3.5 km portage? Hmm, sounds tempting. Nah, we'll
paddle.

Shoulda portaged, we had one more dunking to go."Gees, what's the matter with me." I'm not that bad
of a paddler, honest. We finished the paddle in 7th or 8th. All of my food was soaked as were my clothes. The final rogaine wasn't just a navigation exercise, it was a chance for us to warm up and dry out. We ran the whole thing and
before long, we were heading to the last control. Punch, punch and we were off to the finish line.

We polished off the rogaine in a tidy 2.5 hrs and finished the course in 11 hrs. Considering how
desparate the situation was only 3.5 hrs before, it was amazing that we even finished the course. I guess
Joey and I have the tenacity needed to persevere when the situation gets dire. Now if only we could keep
the boat upright so we wouldn't have to persevere.

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Raid the North Canadian Championships

Ontario

Story coming soon.

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