By the time we got up there the Fahrenheit temperature was rising into the 60s. The river appeared smooth but there was a breeze coming upriver that one sensed would be picking up soon. The forecast had called for a headwind around 13 miles per hour.
After a brief racers' meeting we got in our boats and lined up, and off we went. I moved into the lead with Andy Capel of Maumelle, Arkansas, maintaining contact.
Here's a map of the section of the Mississippi we were racing on:
As you can see, there are sort of three "legs" to the S-shaped course. I spent the first leg paddling strong but controlled, knowing there was a lot of race left and I should conserve energy for the rougher conditions that might arise later on. For the time being the river conditions and the headwind weren't too bad, though the wind was blowing just hard enough to be noisy in my ears and trick my mind into thinking things were worse than they really were. With Andy hanging out on my stern wake I threw in an occasional surge to test his mettle, and he hung tough each time. This photo taken by Paul Ingram shows the state of affairs for most of that first leg:
It wasn't until we were entering the first big bend ("Marshall Point Cut-Off") that I finally opened a bigger gap. From this point on I could no longer find Andy in my peripheral vision, but I had to assume he wasn't too far back. Meanwhile the conditions were beginning to roughen a little. In the middle leg of the course we had more of a beam wind and the waves were moving from left to right, and I had to pay close attention to keep my balance.
One of the things on my mind was the elapsed time: I had last broken two hours in this race in 2014. Though there were perfectly good reasons (low water being chief among them) for my slower times since then, I had this feeling in the back of my mind that maybe my aging body no longer had any sub-two-hour performances in it. With the river running at about 43.1 feet on the Vicksburg gauge yesterday--a tenth of a foot above the official "flood stage"--one could expect faster times, but the weather conditions had dampened any thoughts of miracles.
As I rounded the second big bend I could see a string of barge rigs idling near the river-left bank, and off in the distance I could see a Coast Guard vessel coaxing a couple of more to do the same. The Coast Guard had ordered a halt to commercial traffic while the race was going on, but it appeared that these recalcitrant towboats were only just now complying for fear of a USCG wrist-slap. Even though these machines had now throttled down their engines, the waves they'd already produced, driven by the wind, would linger a long, long time. The approach to the city of Vicksburg promised to be a rough one.
Soon I was climbing up and over one wave after another, with an occasional four-foot breaker crashing over my bow. I kicked open the drain valve in my footwell and tried to grin and bear the soakings. I looked for the driest lines and tried to keep the boat moving as consistently as I could, knowing that Andy and maybe others couldn't be too far behind. I reminded myself that the conditions were challenging for them, too.
The river got nothing but rougher as I inched closer and closer to Vicksburg. Timing my strokes so I was paddling on the crest of each wave, I was having serious doubts about breaking two hours. By this time I was just trying to keep my boat upright until I was in the more protected waters of the Yazoo River. The sun was peeking through the clouds and it was hard to see, but little by little the mouth of the Yazoo came into view. I could see the calmer water there and in the last few hundred meters my only thought was getting there.
At last I was there. I reached down and closed my drain valve and began to think about going fast again. The finish line was some 1600 meters up the Yazoo, and I would be paddling against a mild current to get there. My watch had read 9:02 AM when the starting gun fired, and it was now about 10:50, so after all my struggles out on the Mississippi I still had a shot at breaking two hours. I was plenty tired but still had the energy for a good sustained surge, so I bore down and got to work. I stayed close to the Yazoo's river-right bank, away from the main current, for about two-thirds of the distance. The finish line was at the foot of the "Vicksburg Front" on the river-left side, so I had to ferry across, but I made it a steep ferry, trying to find that happy medium between adding extra distance to my trek and fighting the Yazoo's current. I sprinted as hard as I could for the last 300 meters and crossed the finish line at 10:59 on my watch. I knew I'd made it in an hour and 57 or 58 minutes (my official time was 1:57:36, as it turned out). This photo, also by Paul Ingram (or maybe one of his minions), captures the moment:
Elated to be finished at last, I turned around expecting to see Andy not too far back, but there were no paddlers in sight. I began my cool-down paddle and headed back down the Yazoo to cheer on some of the other racers. After a while I spotted the orange surf ski of David Dupree of Rayville, Louisiana, headed up the river-left bank. Andy's father Phil Capel of Sherwood, Arkansas, was several boatlengths behind David. These two would take second and third place overall.
More racers began to come into view, but there was still no sign of Andy. Eventually I headed back up to the finish area. Phil saw me and asked if I knew anything about his son. I said I didn't. The Coast Guard vessel was making its way up the river and Phil paddled over to speak to them.
I got out of my boat and carried it to my car, which I'd left parked a short distance from the finish area. Once I'd put some dry clothes on I walked back over to the riverfront and found Andy standing there. He told me that he had in fact been just a few hundred meters behind me as we approached the mouth of the Yazoo; then, just when he thought he'd made it to the protected water, a wave knocked him over. Drifting down the turbulent Mississippi, away from the Yazoo's mouth, Andy made numerous attempts to re-mount his surf ski before he finally succeeded. Then he had to fight his way back up to the Yazoo and to the finish. The mishap knocked him back to 14th place overall with a time of 2:22:39; it's possible he might have broken two hours if he'd stayed on track.
Karen Kesselring of Hot Springs Village, Arkansas, was the first overall female finisher, clocking two hours, 18 minutes, 58 seconds. The complete results are posted here.
As soon as the awards were over I made the four-hour drive back to Memphis. I was unbelievably tired and was in bed before ten o'clock. I woke up this morning feeling sore in my midsection; that's pretty typical after a long hard race. A short, easy recovery paddle was in order, but it was pouring down rain this morning and I just couldn't bring myself to immerse myself in the elements again. Instead I spent the morning alternating between lazing around and unpacking the car and doing a load of laundry and doing some overdue house cleaning. Yes, even a big canoe and kayak race winner has to clean his own house and do his own laundry.
I finally made it down to the river after four o'clock this afternoon. The post-race recovery paddle is a ritual that must be observed... I told you in my last post that I was regimented. I was still quite sore but once I was warmed up I felt pretty good in the boat. The clouds were giving way to some sunshine and it was a lovely late afternoon on the Memphis riverfront.
Great race report! However, it did give me flashbacks.
ReplyDeleteBathing in that muddy water keeps you young!
Delete