We had another quick transition, this time to the paddle, but bobbled a bit as we pushed off into the White River. We managed to stay afloat. The marathon (literally 26 miles) of paddling the White River provided near-complete solitude. We serpentined around the countless bends frequently spotting waterfowl. Justin amazingly was able to track us on the map and even when he lost our location, he quicky sleuthed our location based on the direction of the brief straightaways. We attempted two portages on hairpin turns but decided that whittling 3 minutes of paddling wasn’t worth the risk of the uncertain portage conditions since we often could only see a few feet ahead due to the dense underbrush.
Justin skillfully nailed the four foot inlet that would save a mile plus of upstream paddling. I was happy to give my butt a break even though the alternative entailed slogging knee deep through mucky waters for several hundred meters. Erik and Justin pushed and pulled the boat while I trailed behind, happy that I didn’t lose a shoe. Justin even requested that we wash some of the mud off our shoes as we reloaded the boat after the canoe-whack.
As we headed upstream, we frequently ricocheted off the brushy banks in a sadistic game of pinball. I was especially thankful to be in the middle. The couple thumps on my head from Justin’s paddle was a small price compared to the work Erik and Justin did to navigate the turns. Plus I didn’t have to dodge branches as much as Erik in the bow. Progress was slow, but we took solace that the remainder of the paddle would be downstream once we obtained the two checkpoints. On our return route, we guesstimated our lead on the two other teams who we gave a friendly wave. As we returned to the main channel, we finally spotted a couple of other folks enjoying the beautiful water. Cliffs now adorned the banks as we now navigated a few rocks in the channel, two reasons to be grateful we got the paddle done in the remaining daylight hours. We were all ready to be done, and I awkwardly shifted in my seat as I had had enough sitting. The minutes seemed to take hours, but we finally passed under the trestle, which served as our signal that we were nearing the take out.
We were all happy to reach the first road access point since we had put our canoes in the water over six hours earlier. We hopped on our bikes that had been transported carefully and laid out. Volunteers sent us off with directions to the local bar for water fillups and even a hug. I attempted to shake out the silt from my shoe and sock but decided it wasn’t worth trying to do the second.
After filling up our water at the local bar and receiving several surprised looks when I answered how long we were racing, we exited the town into the countryside. I was surprised to be in farming country in the Northwoods. We spotted a black bear bounding at what I hope was full-speed across a field for a couple of hundred meters. I was awestruck at its endurance and speed. (It helped I was a safe distance away and on my bike as it looked like my speed and endurance would be no match.) At dusk, we saw deer in nearly every field we passed, with more than we could often count in the dimming light. Although we didn’t realize we had spotted a porcupine in the dark until we were past it, during the excellent post-race meal another racer shared her encounter with a porcupine and her cub as she stopped for ten minutes to marvel at the pair.
We flipped on our headlights and only encountered a single vehicle in the next three hours in the saddle. Once again, we were ready to be done with biking, as we had spent most of the past 14 hours sitting. We returned to our earlier bike drop where we would finally set out on foot. I was so appreciative to the volunteers that offered pulled pork and hot homemade mac-and-cheese. I took two bowls as I refilled water.
I’m glad that I topped off my bladder since what I was thinking would be three hours took us past daybreak due to the dense brush. We walked nearly the entire trek but Justin kept the night low drama and engaged us as much as possible. Justin was a storyteller, informing us as we’d go off trail that it would be so many meters before we’d hit the checkpoint which would be on the such-and-such hilltop/spur/entrants we went up/over/through. Despite this information, he’d point to it before I had the faintest idea of where it was for nearly every checkpoint.
I admire all navigators. I often struggle to maintain pace stumbling over rocks, roots, and logs, while they do all the work: breaking trail while reading a map with precision on the move. Above all, Justin’s gift for navigation was amazing to witness. Our third teammate never turned his headlamp on high and we never fanned out to search for a checkpoint.
