First National Bank. Site of two stair climbs in the Crew Minion's life.
Ropes. Way cool!
d. Play games: All those hours of cornholing paid off: Abby puts a beanbag into a board in quick order and we move on.
e. Some Girls are Bad at Football: In fact, all three members of the Fab Flab can now saw that we've attempted to throw a football through a tire and kick a field goal. Two of the three should say that we're bad at it. Abby can't say that. Stadium stairs are something we're all good at, though.
Football. The Fab Flab did not look nearly this impressive.
Big thanks to Joe and Kelly for both the crewing and the photos. More can be viewed here: www.jaubs.com (just click on the "welcome" at the bottom of the photo).
Jim looked pretty strong finishing the Elkhart Triathlon. Let's see how he does in the race today, shall we?
It's JohnEric's first adventure race EVER, so I guess we'll just try to finish happy.
The Woolly was in danger of becoming extinct earlier this month, so we were happy to learn that our registration, and quite likely the registration of our friend Hans' team, pushed the number of teams needed for the race to go on over the edge. There are eleven teams, running the gamut from seasoned racers to triathletes to newbies.
Pre-race is busy. Pre-race meeting involves our standard Leave No Trace presentation and general rule review by race director Joe Davison, who also adds in the incredibly good news that he's procured two cases of beer for post-race consumption, and then we get our maps.
These are the world's biggest fricken maps (practically five feet tall and over four feet wide), but we are able to cut them down to 2x4. The course will cover between 40 and 60 miles, depending on whether or not we make smart route choices. We'll start on a canoe leg to retrieve a raw egg from the beach, canoe back turn in the egg, and take the first bike leg to an O course. From there we'll take our bikes 15-20 miles up to Wonder Lake, then canoe down the Nippersink Creek to a take-out, from whence we'll navigate our way back to our bikes and then back to the finish line.
Race start was hectic. Joe assumes a very casual stance in front of the races and bellows, "Forty-five seconds to race start!" I jump and sort of freak out, and then I promptly dump the boat. Twice. Why, yes! There are pictures! Support crew for the Brothers Grime got all of the actions on camera. Maybe I'll post them later. Maybe.
JohnEric and I laughed our little rear ends off, while Jim stewed in the front of the boat. He is angry all the way out to the beach where we were to retrieve our eggs, and then he makes me all anxious when I get out of the boat to find the egg. See, the thing is, they are up on the beach like four feet from where we docked the boat, but he's screaming at me, telling me I'm going the wrong direction, and I get all flustered and end up running all the way down the beach, like, a quarter mile, and then I have to backtrack until I find the eggs sitting right under a huge neon-orange construction cone. Fortunately, four other people follow me out there. [I am SO not going to the prom with Jimmy. He's mean.]
After I hand over the egg to Joe, we run to our bikes and try to start the ride. We're missing JE, though, and then we spot him rinsing off his little feetsies in some water. Who rinses off their feet in an adventure race?
We hustle out of there and, with another team hot on our tails, make it over to the first test, which is on a ball court. We have to shoot a free throw, a three pointer, and make a volleyball serve into a hula hoop. I was kind of hoping I'd get to use the hula hoop to hula in, but that didn't happen.
We zoom off pretty quickly. Jimmy makes a minor navigation error and almost crashes us all, but we get over to the O section safely, where we immediately get fouled up on the first point.
We end up nailing all of the other points, although we spot Hans' team coming out of the woods well ahead of us, and, after another few minor errors that involve backtracking, we get back to the O start to find that we are not, indeed, last.
We hot-foot it out of the O-meet area and start the long ride north to Wonder Lake and the canoe put-in . I am really enjoying the flat terrain and sound of the crazy cicadas humming, and then I look down and see that I've acquired a hitchiker.
I guess we must've be flying, because that little booger stays on me until we stop.
I am thanking goodness for my road bike and speedy road shoes when I see the first...big...hill.
Hello, did someone forget to tell the Flatlanders that hills hurt? JE, who is sweeping to make sure I didn't get left behind, mutters, "holy candy!" and zips past me to the top of every hill, standing in his saddle.
We pass the Brothers Grime at some point, sitting on the side of the road changing a flat. It is the first of three for them that day, a fact that gives us only a minor edge over this strong team from Wisconsin, Mississippi, and Illinois.
Two big hills later, I am huffing to the top, watching Jim and JE circle around like vultures while they wait for me, and then I spot the convenience store. Jim asks if I wanted to stop to refuel, and I say, "Ur..Eeee...OK." I creak to a stop, and JE decides to take the opportunity to refill his bladder and his belly.
Little did we know that he was stopping for a picnic.
Ten long minutes later, we continue on the final 4 miles to the put in, where we are greeted with fresh fruit (oh joy!), treats for trash (oh boy!), and the news that the first team has come through nearly two hours ago and still not been back ("holy candy!").
We grab an apple and a cookie, and were off.
We navigate the twisty turns and the easy water of the Nippisink Creek in perfect weather. The red-winged blackbirds are everywhere; the other people on the river look at us in amusement, and the prairielands and rushes of Glaciers State Park make the whole trip seem like a really amazing dream. I've read about the praries before, but never had a chance to experience them first-hand. We catch up to the Brothers Grime, who had passed us while we were refueling at the canoe put in, only to be overtaken by them fairly soon afterwards.
Then come the trees. High water and many fallen trees lead to one member of Brothers Grime losing his helmet. Well, he may have lost his helmet, but I almost lose my head when Jim grabs a branch to prevent from colliding with it and then (with warning) has to let it go as we pass by underneath and it whips towards my head. Yikes!
There are a few tiny little rapids, during which I, sitting in the bottoom of the boat, become almost scandalously well acquainted with a few rocks and roots.
Our route on the Nippersink. Maniacal trees and rocks not illustrated. Put in and takeout (red and green, respectively) clearly marked.
An hour later, we pull out and visit the potty. I eat a few more Tylenol (girdle is nice, but of less help than, say, a few Percoset might have been), and we set off just behind the Brothers Grime.
We assume a leisurely but smart course, choosing to walk to stave off any more pangs from my peevish oblique, and then we take a good look at a park map and chart a route straight through Glaciers that allow us some great up-close encouters with a few frogs, a toad, a ton of butterflies, some hardy prarie grass, and then...oh, then, accursed thistles.
Prickly prickly. Jim disappears from sight. See, his philosophy is, "The faster I get through this, the faster it'll be over," which translates to me as, "Screw my teammates, I'm getting the hell outta here!"
JE and decide that a wade through the creek would put us on better, less prickly ground, and we are right. We muck our way back to the canoe put-in and are shocked to see that Hans' team, which had been well ahead of us before this leg, were still not back. We worry marginally, and then I become rapidly elated at the thought of finishing in a better place than we thought we'd be. Why, no, it wasn't very sporting of me.
The ride back (16 miles) is no fun. We keep a pretty good 17-mile-an-hour clip for about the first third, and then I get cranky, and then I have to be pushed up a hill, and then, finally, oh wonder of wonders, we pull into the race finish at a whopping eight and a half hours after race start, and in sixth place. We are solidly middle of the pack, for sure.
Hans' team, having gotten lost in Glaciers and attacked by a renegade bunch of cicadas as well as having had a water bottle thrown at them by a bunch of jackass teenagers on the roads, pulls in shortly after that despite two flat tires, and then, a team who called themselves The Quitters, who had pretty much been hot on our tails the whole race. The Brothers Grime, having suffered three flats, come in shortly afterwards. The final team to come in was no team at all, but one single female, who had finished the race after both of her teammates had dropped out. Pretty ballsy, if you ask me.
All in all, it was a wildly successful race for everyone involved. We had a terrific time. Big thanks to Joe for hosting and creating the Big Woolly, and for hosting the ARFE programs.
Christian taught us everything we need to know about Leave No Trace, and then some. Read on for more.
Thursday, Day One:
Chris picks up Yi Shun and Jim in Boston. We realize that Chris packs for a camping trip like a drag queen summering in Rio: Four enormous bags and a man-purse. Chris defends the haul by saying he "packed for every activity possible," at which point our Crew Queen, cramped in the front seat with Chris' man-purse, pulls from it his reading material: a 700-page tome of poker instruction. The Crew Minion realizes that she is in for a long drive, as Jim and Chris instantly start gabbing about poker strategy and Chris reveals that he played poker for an insane amount of time on Tuesday night, thereby leaving him so tired that he sleeps through Pamela's arrival in Boston Wednesdsay night. Pamela is remarkably forgiving.
We are joined in the clasroom by the incomparable Amber Rethwisch, an Americorps volunteer who quickly became a part of the ARFE family and spent most of the camping trip in a bug net. She was smart.
Amber, in her de rigeur bug net. We wanted to take her home with us, she was that cool.
We spent this day in the classroom learning about the background of Leave No Trace, handing out homeword assignments, and packing our food. And I don't just mean Mylar bags of dehydrated onion soup, or beef stroganoff, or whatever, I mean food. Christian is a Leave No Trace instructor in the NOLS tradition, which means that he wants to teach us how to really cook in the backcountry. He had us carry out well over 55 pounds worth of nourishment: cake- and pizza-dough flour, dehydrated eggs, quinoa, pasta, bell peppers, mushrooms, onions, elephant garlic, cumin, lentils, oatmeal, chai, tea,...Your Miss Midwesterly looked at the haul and noted somewhat drily that the stuff going on this camping trip well outweighed what was in her refrigerator at home here in Chicago, which amounts to a bag of baby carrots for Sprocket, fifteen beers, and Gatorade. We learn about LNT's first principle, Plan Ahead and Prepare.
We spend the first night in PSU's Loon Lake cabin, which is on a lake (duh) and affords the Crew Minion some valuable swimming time. Chris and Crew Queen go rock climbing. Crew Minion, Jim, Kathy, and Jeff head out to dinner at a terrible restuarant, but the company is good enough to drown out the awful service and so-so food. We return to find the cabin overrun with college students who are simultaneously swilling gin and cranberry juice (the mixologist in the Crew Minion cringes) and talking about the day they spent jugging ropes. The Crew Minion wonders how eleven people are going to share one shower, and then she realizes that only one of the college students has intentions to shower.
Beds in cabin are squeaky-squealy like stuck pigs; Jeff is a snorer; Jim is a moaner; Chris has a nightmare and tries to punch his way through the wall to Jim. Pamela shushes Chris; Crew Minion spends night stewing neurotically and uselessly over horrible service in restaurant. All in all, a restless night, and the college students are the only ones who get any sleep.
Friday, Day Two:
Up at 5AM.
Four of us head out to Dunkin Donuts to get some coffee and donuts; Pamela and Chris, both health-and-environment-conscious vegans, opt out.
We meet Christian and Amber at the PSU parking lot, divide up into cars for the ride to the trailhead, get out of the car, and realize quickly that the Black Flies in the region like to chew on people. Between packing, swat at bugs; kill several triumphantly. Christian looks horrified and gently shoos bugs away from his face.
Amber, left, sans her bug net, cringes from a dive-bombing kamikaze black fly. Pamela picks at one that gets stuck between her teeth. Chris crashes the photo.
Christian had notified us before that he'd be sure to shorten our hiking days to making time for training in the afternoons: the first day's hike is a whopping one-point-five mile! We split into two group to lesson the impact on the trail: four and four, traveling about ten minutes apart. It's part of Amber's lesson on traveling on durable surfaces, Leave No Trace's second principle.