High Water Mark
Having enjoyed the “unbridled enthusiasm” of Jack Semler in his stern in the 2003 Adirondack Canoe Classic, Bill returned to the 90-Miler in 2004 to take the helm himself and pilot no-nonsense bowman Tom through the watery highway of the upstate New York mountain region.
Bill is an optimist, however, and rather than compare sitting in the stern with Tom to taking the bow with Jack, he no doubt compared pairing with Tom to pairing with Jay. At least with Tom his commands to switch would be heeded, most of the time, anyway.
Aside from Bill and Tom, the only NCMC attendee was Jan, who served as the one-person pit crew, for which she was amply rewarded with a “they paddled, but I pushed” pit crew t-shirt (the shirts were sort of a gray color for 2004, with the familiar map of the race course on the back).
As Bill is one of the browsers of this web site who has chided the editor for long-windedness, we’ll spare you a stroke-by-stroke account of the race.
The two NCMCers did fine, with Bill doing an excellent job in the stern. On a couple of occasions Tom told Bill that he didn’t think their 18-foot Jensen was aimed just right, but in general he busied himself with the task of setting their stroke rate. Bill’s worthy helmsmanship also included getting the boat off to a clean start each day.
The weather was mild and the water was high. On Day One this meant that they entered Brown’s Tract at a new spot upstream from the normal put-in, which was flooded. This caused a logjam of canoeists and added to their time. It also meant that the trip up the Marion River was against more current than usual. They were pretty beat when they finished Day One, but recovered in camp at Lake Eaton.
They blazed through Day Two in a record five hours and 12 minutes (or nearly six miles an hour), benefiting from the high water on the Raquette River, which made it a much faster and less technical a paddle than in other years, as they could cut many corners on the serpentine course. They witnessed two capsizes on Day Two, but did not have to waste time helpingwith rescues, as other boats were closer to the overturned racers.
They completed Day Three’s 25 miles in a quick three hours and 50 minutes, again taking advantage of the high water in the river sections connecting the Saranac Lakes.
The only real mishaps of the trip occurred off the water. At the start of Day Two, which was moved to a new location, Bill was busted by a landowner who was trying to keep racers from peeing on her property before their waves went off. While camping after Day One at Lake Eaton, Tom dropped their burgers out of the frying pan and onto the ground, but he rinsed them off, and they tasted only mildly gritty. The next night, in Fish Creek, he dropped the pot of cooked pasta, just as had occurred twice on the 2004 Algonquin trip. They cooked another batch, however, and were able to carbo load for Day Three.
Bill had forgotten some of the hardware for his tent, but managed to use some pieces of stiff foam to anchor the poles for his Timberline tent (see photo gallery).
One of the mysteries on the trip was the location of Jack’s MSR Dragonfly stove, which Bill supposedly brought to the race. They never did find it and thought they had lost it, but Jack later found it safe and sound in his garage, as it had never made it into Bill’s van.
The NCMC would like to thank Brian McDonnell, the race’s prime organizer, for his superb job in 2004. Because Brian’s race duties nowadays prevent him from competing in the race himself, he recently paddled the entire course in one day in a four-person Wenonah.
We’ll leave you with some race-inspired haiku:
Cars drive to Old Forge
Kevlar canoes on their roofs
Cult of We-no-nah
Raising paddles high
Just before the race begins
Have I made a mistake?
Tumultuous start
How do paddlers make such chop?
Just don’t capsize now
No gunwales or yokes
And self-bailers in the bilge
Racing boats fly by
The campground carry
A long walk through spectators
And a chance to pee
Winding and narrow
With fat paddlers passing us
Brown’s Tract sucks
Up the Marion
Utowana and Eagle
Now Blue Mountain looms
Neck and shoulders throb
Blisters sprout and back stiffens
Two more days to go
Endless Long Lake trip
One carry at Raquette Falls
Fanny fatigue day
We sneak to their stern
And ride wake until spotted
A splash in the face
Day two is over
Only twenty-five miles left
Time for a cold Bud
Billy at the helm
Nothing but “huts,” grunts and curses
A man of few words
After Labor Day
Big blue lakes without motors
Too fried to enjoy
Wake up in the dark
Start the coffee and find gear
What time is it now?
Drive and camp and cook
Find the duct tape and sunscreen
All hail the pit crew
Four hundred paddlers
Couple of porta-potties
Time to wait in line?
Waves of boats go off
The call comes for men’s masters
Where the hell is Jack?
A jump in the lake
Ends a day on the water
Sweat and grime fly off
Two boats neck and neck
They bang amidships and stall
I need a cutlass
We pass a solo
The paddler plods in silence
A fate worse than death
The guideboat rowers
Traveling backwards all day
Face the canoeists
Jay wears hot pink gloves
With grippy nubs on the palms
Iconoclastic
Those women paddlers
Young and old, lean or not so
So damn tough to pass
The bow parts the water
Sending waves fanning outward
Racers grab our wake
Fair time on the water
A Scotch old fashioned in camp
Good time off the water
Joey races Day One
Joey says “No” to Day Two
He pees on Bill’s tent
Jay broods at the start
If he could walk on water
Bill would be alone
Route Three bridge appears
Last cheers before Lake Flower
We can smell the barn
Two orange buoys
Like giant floating pumpkins
We sprint to the line
Racers on the grass
Chicken sandwich and baked beans
Here’s your mileage pin