STADIUM DOGS HMIS

September 17, 2005

It was nice to be at a place that felt familiar for a 'training day'. 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 ole reunion. Brian, Tara and Adelle were right inside the door. How much more comfortable can you feel the night before a race?

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 burm 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. Too 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.