Lugs, Chains, and Paddle Blades

With these three modes we explore the natural world around us. The lugs of our shoes, the chains of our bikes, and the blades of our paddlecraft.

This is our archive of amateur exploration.

Enjoy!

Wednesday, June 29, 2022

US National

In January 2022, USA Wildwater announced that trials for the upcoming National Team would be held on the Youghiogheny River in Ohiopyle, PA, one of my home rivers. I purchased a used wildwater boat, got to training and set my sights on the trials, scheduled for April 10. After the first surprise - making the team - I committed to racing at the World Championships on the Vezere River in Treignac, France in early June. Plenty more surprises followed.

Below is a record of my updates and other content:


Apr 11 Email: 
US National Team (yep, you read that right!)

Hello Friends!

Forgive the long email, but I'm looking for some help. I’ll cut to the chase here in case your time is limited:

I qualified for the US National Kayaking team this past weekend. Seriously. Team USA.

My first race as part of the team will be the 2022 World Championships in Treignac, France in early June. To make that happen I need sponsors to help me secure the money needed to go to France and compete on the world stage. I am still recovering from the shock of it, but I need to get busy training and raising funds because I have less than 7 weeks to figure out how I can do it.

I’m emailing you because I know or suspect you may have connections to a company that may be able to throw in for the endeavor in return for some exposure. Or, you may own or manage that company! If you do in fact have such a connection, please give them a call, forward this to them, or pass their contact information to me. There is more information below, and I am happy to provide even more than that if needed!

If you’re interested in the full story, read on, and THANK YOU!!!

Matt

(Note: I am not interested in private donations or setting up a crowd-sourced funding site for this. I'm interested in corporate sponsorships, even if those corporations are small companies. If you have it in your personal budget to donate money, I would much rather it go to support the Afghan refugees who recently arrived in Pittsburgh, Ukrainian refugees around the world, local food pantries, gun control advocacy work, etc.)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The 2022 US National Kayak team qualifying trials for an event called Wildwater K1 were held on the Yough River in Ohiopyle this past Sunday. Every year it's in a different location, so when I found out in January that it would be on my backyard river, I found an old used 15-foot composite wildwater boat for sale (a small miracle - these boats have never been mass produced in the US). I signed up for the event, figuring I’ll give the out-of-town competitors a local’s run for their money. I never expected to qualify for the team. Maybe it was the weather (mid 30s with 20 mph headwinds and flurries), maybe it was the river conditions that day (high water on the Middle Yough), or maybe it was my attitude (“these guys are going to crush me”), or perhaps it was some combination of these, but I finished third among the kayakers.

By virtue of that result, I will receive a formal invitation to join the US Team and compete with the team at the World Championships from June 3-6 in Treignac, France. In order to take this show on the road, though, I need help finding sponsors to help fund the endeavor.

Wildwater is not an Olympic sport, so it doesn’t pay well. Actually, it doesn’t pay at all. I’ve been told I’ll get a Team USA Jacket, and the rest is up to me. To represent the US in France (I can't believe I just wrote that), I need to find my way to a shoestring budget of at least $5000 to cover expenses. Any more than that would enable me to order a better race boat for the competition and help fund future racing. (I have to order a new boat from Europe because I can’t ship mine since I need to train in it, not to mention mine is seriously outdated.) I’ve already been amazed by some incredible international camaraderie and allyship within the sport, with offers of logistical aid from the UK and Czech teams and at least one manufacturer of wildwater boats. All I need now is cash to get a boat and find my way to France.

I’m the only team member from Western Pennsylvania and would be honored to represent and promote some of the wonderful companies located in our city and state- both during events abroad, and/or while training year-round here at home.

This is what I mean:

In return for a donation of a couple hundred bucks, I would be happy to wear Peppers sunglasses, a Helltown Brewing cap, an Immersion Research jacket, some American Eagle apparel, or Commonwealth Press swag when I train locally. If there’s any local media surrounding this either before or after the event in France (I'm working on that now), I’d be happy to kvell about NuGo nutrition and let folks know how DuoLingo will help me order lunch while I’m in France. Whenever I get on the water locally, people always ask me about my crazy-looking boat, which could have stickers for UPMC, PPG, Dick’s, PNC, GNC, or other local companies on it. My boat is currently green, but there’s nothing stopping me from painting some stripes the red color of Heinz Ketchup in exchange for some help. Oh, I have a helmet, too, with additional space for stickers from Wilderness Voyageurs, 3ROC, or other local businesses.

(Going outside the Western PA region, Indie and Otis are pulling for sponsorship from Disney+ or Lucasfilms, and have already purchased another THIS IS THE WAY sticker to match the one on my current race boat. In French, that’s TELLE EST LA VOIE . . . ).

My kayak racing background:

In case you somehow didn’t know I’ve been obsessed with whitewater kayaking for almost 20 years, here is some background information. I know all the jabs. Matt built a bigger deck just so he can store more boats underneath (at last count, over a dozen kayaks as well as a fleet of paddleboards, canoes, and an inflatable unicorn). He has a closet full of “skirts” that he wears regularly. He created a 3-day precipitation map online and checks online river gauges before he checks email. He doesn’t remember birthdays, but he remembers every rock, rapid, and turn on the Upper Fork of the West Branch of the Left Channel of every river. Yeah, I'm guilty; it’s all actually true.

But, my kayaking typically happens on remote rivers, so my guess is that most of you probably don’t know much about what it is I actually do.

In 2003, I climbed into a whitewater kayak for the first time and fell in love. I spent the next few years climbing into other kayaks, again and again. I swam out of a lot of them at first. Then, I learned the Eskimo roll. (I tried to teach my wife how to roll too, but that went terribly!) I paddled every chance I could, working my way up to class II, then III, then IV, then V rivers, even paddling through the winter. A lifelong competitor (triathlon, adventure racing, running, crew, etc.), I entered the Stonycreek River race in Johnstown in 2007 on a whim with a borrowed boat and took second place overall. That hooked me in, and before long I started racing upstream through rapids (yes, this is a thing). When a close friend drowned on the Blackwater River in WV in 2010, I stepped away from the dangerous rivers and stepped further into racing. Since then I’ve made it to the Cheat River Race Hall of Fame with seven top ten finishes. The Cheat River Race is the largest mass start whitewater race in the country and last May I took second overall, and then in August I took second overall at the Upstream Nationals in Ohiopyle. This is an obscure sport, so these are actually prestigious events! And, yet, I never really thought about winning. I paddled because of my love of the sport and pushing hard. I paddled because of the joy I feel in beautiful, natural wild places. I didn’t race against other paddlers; I raced against the river and its rapids (which can be very formidable competitors), and myself. I’ve been feeling shocked that I am now looking at a spot on the US National Team, but, as Molly keeps reminding me, this didn’t happen overnight. It happened over nineteen years.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ABOUT WILDWATER K1 & THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS

The 2022 World Championship Event in Treignac, France: https://www.canoeicf.com/wildwater-canoeing-world-championships/treignac-2022

Wildwater K1 is a point-to-point downstream race through rapids. The trick to it is mastering the equipment. We use very specifically designed boats that sacrifice all stability and maneuverability for speed. There are no US manufacturers of these boats, but I was lucky to find a very old used one to train in and race at trials. It’s very light, very long, and it is very, very tippy. It doesn’t turn without considerable effort. But, it goes very, very fast when I paddle hard.





Wildwater Racing is a division of competitive downriver boating governed by the International Canoe Federation (ICF). Athletes compete in individual and team timed events by class (canoe or kayak) and category (classic or sprint). In Classic events, the course distance ranges from three to six miles, and contains class two through class four rapids. In Sprint events, the course distance ranges from 200 to 600 meters. The World Championships are currently the highest level of competition for wildwater racing, and I'll be competing in both the Senior (18+) events, as well as Masters (35+).

Apr 18 Email (to sponsors):
THANK YOU!!!

Sponsors -

Firstly, I can't thank you enough. With your help I'm now able to afford to fly to and stay in France for the World Championships. I'm hoping for more funds to enable me to purchase a boat to use in the races, so if you know of any other companies who may be interested, I would appreciate any connections you can provide.

I got out on Saturday morning on Slippery Rock Creek and had my best day in the boat thus far (if you know the river, I paddled from Eckert Bridge to Harris Bridge in 25 mins, followed by a 10 min run from the Mill to Eckert through pretty big water). I had a pro photographer come to take shots, and despite lousy conditions, he got a few good ones. I will be meeting him again on Friday and will be sure to get your logos in, and then send you more photos.

I was hoping to have the American Canoe Association (the umbrella organization of USA Wildwater) to accept sponsorship funds since they are a 501(c)3 non-profit. Of course they said yes, but they are not willing to transfer the funds directly to me. So, if your company will allow for a donation to an individual (me) that is not a 501(c)3, then you can just send a check to me.

If you need a 501(c)3 to send it to, please let me know and I'll start working up an alternative plan. Perhaps the local paddling club, TRPC, could sponsor me by doing it through them.

I have no social media presence, and it's late for that, but I am hopeful that I'll be appearing in local print and digital media in the upcoming weeks. Also, there is a race in Ohiopyle this Saturday and I'll probably be at the event, so there will be some exposure opportunities there as well. If there is anything you want from me, don't hesitate to ask! I'll take stickers to put on my boat/helmet/paddle, and apparel I could wear before or after any events.

Apr 28 Email:
THANK YOU! (and some other information)

Hello Friends!

At no point in the last six months did I believe I’d be preparing to race at the World Championships in France. I didn’t expect that I’d be on a brutal training regimen reminiscent of my days as a college oarsman nearly 30 years ago. And I certainly never anticipated the level of support by local businesses, friends, family members, friends-of-friends, friends-of-parents’ friends, and family members of friends’ parents (that's a mouthful!). You've donated your own money, time, and services. For all of this, I can’t possibly articulate my gratitude. But, I will try!

Among those pitching in so I can race in France are people ranging from close friends to some I haven’t seen since the 1900s. (To those who made anonymous donations: your identity is revealed to me as the beneficiary, and to Julie as the fundraiser creator, but not to anybody else.) Seeing your names has given me an unexpected surge of emotions as well as a tremendous feeling of support.

You read my story, so you probably know my progression. Allow me to summarize with a unique anecdote. After nearly 20 years of paddling whitewater and racing kayaks, I found myself at a pivotal moment last week in a Dicks’ Sporting Goods store. I walked into the fitting rooms with an assortment of Nike apparel. A few minutes later I emerged, returned the garments to the racks and left the store. From my car, I texted the Team USA manager: 'Mens medium, top to bottom." Now I know my warm-up uniform will fit me just right when I participate in the opening ceremonies of the World Wildwater Championships in Treignac, France.

I’m still surprised every time I write a sentence like the one you just read.

That warm-up uniform, as well as racing fees (which are not nominal) are paid for by USA Wildwater - but nothing else. The rest was to be up to me, but you decided it would be up to you. My sponsors thus far (NuGO, 3 Rivers Outdoor, Old Snapper Cider, and Loughren PC) generously started me off. I initially rejected the idea of crowd-funding because there are dozens of charities more worthy of your personal funds. But, you insisted. So, my sister, Julie, took up the position of chief fundraiser. I’m still pretty uncomfortable with the idea, but once the donations began to roll in I found that the support motivated me. I pull a little harder during my morning flatwater workouts and take faster, riskier lines through rapids when working on skills. I qualified for Worlds on my own; now I feel that you are all behind me as I take on the international field!

With just under a month to go before I leave for France, I thought you’d appreciate hearing how your donations are helping me (donations have included funds, equipment, and other means of logistical support). My expenses include travel, lodging, and obvious incidentals, but also some specialized equipment that will make me more competitive. I ordered an ultralight carbon fiber racing paddle and I took out a small insurance policy on the race boat I will borrow (racing boats are fragile, and breaking them is a regular occurrence). I also may need to purchase some of the US Team equipment, such as a helmet, life jacket, and spray skirt.

You went out of your way to help me out, and I appreciate it. In the months ahead I will go out of my way, too, by keeping you updated. Here's my first update: last Saturday I won a race down Ohiopyle’s Lower Yough River in a Phoenix Isere (my winning time was 42:15 from put-in to take-out if you know the Yough). Next Friday it’s the Cheat River Race, the largest mass start whitewater race in the country, and my favorite kayaking event. I have been successful at the Cheat in the past, placing 2nd overall in 2021. Then, on May 20, I’ll take my wildwater boat to Johnston, PA for the Stonycreek Race.

Seriously, I cannot thank you all enough, and I can’t wait to share more soon!

Cheers,

Matt


May 9 Email:
Updates from the Road to the World Championships

Finals are over and I realize that I haven't been dreaming. I will be competing at the World Championship Kayak Races. The past week was spent training and preparing. Lodging, a rental car, and airfare have been booked. My racing coach, Josh Friedman of ATP Race Consulting has put together a crushing workout schedule on the flatwater. If you cross a bridge over the Allegheny or the Mon and happen to see a very sleek looking green kayak, it's probably me. And, if I'm not paddling fast then I'll be gasping for air. I've also been paddling Slippery Rock Creek in McConnell's Mill State Park and the Yough River in Ohiopyle whenever possible and my boat handling in the whitewater is improving!

On Friday I headed to Albright, WV to compete in the annual Cheat River Race, one of my favorites - but most intimidating - races. With the rain we got last week, the river rose a lot through the day Friday, and the director eventually had to make the tough decision to cancel the race. But, all of us racers were there and so many of us decided to paddle the Cheat in the high water anyway (by staying together and not racing it's far safer to paddle the big whitewater). That was ideal because I was still able to give my sponsors some exposure despite the cancellation.

I've had a bunch of questions about racing at Worlds, so here are some responses for everybody to read:

Worlds   The races will take place on the Vezere River in Treignac, France. It's a small town in the French countryside, about a 5 hour drive south from Paris, 3 hours west of Lyon, and 2.5 hours north of Marseilles. The Vezere is dammed, and the dam’s design allows for a precise flow into the river below, making it a perfect location for the racing. I have been studying video of the Vezere and it looks to be continuous class 1 & class 2 with about 10 bigger rapids that would be rated class 3. The continuous nature of the river is the most intimidating part (if you're a kayaker, it looks like the Savage River in MD).

Schedule   I fly to Paris on the 28th then drive to the area where the racing is. I've given myself a day to recover from the overnight flight and to get situated. Then, from May 30th to June 2nd, the water is turned on each day and I will paddle the Vezere as much as I can in order to learn the rapids, which is the best way to race fast. But, I can't tire myself out too much because on June 3rd and 4th the sprint heats and finals take place through a ½ mile section of the Vezere with one big rapid in the middle. Later in the day on the 4th we do a team sprint, where I will race alongside two of my teammates, drafting and rotating the lead to optimize time. Sprints will take somewhere between 2 and 3 minutes. Then, on June 5th and 6th are the classic races down a 4-mile section of the Vezere that includes dozens of rapids of various sizes. I expect classic races to take about 20 minutes.

Support   I have a great support team joining me in France! Molly is coming, and so is my sister, Julie, my sister-in-law, Kristi, and my cousin, Jessica. I hope to hear them cheering me on as I pass them during the races, but I suspect I may hear "cheers!" instead.

Team   I am a member of a 7-person team representing the USA. Four of us are competing in the K1 men’s events (K1 means a single person kayak), one is competing in C1 men’s (C means canoe), and there are two K1 women on the team. There are K2 and C2 events, but no US athletes are competing in those. Yes, I am the oldest on the team, but two of my teammates are not too far back, in their mid 40s.

I'm so thankful for everybody who has contributed to help me achieve this goal. With every purchase, and every stroke, I feel incredibly supported in this endeavor. Thanks to you I now have lodging, airfare, a rental car, an international racing license, and a very light and aggressive racing paddle. Only a few more items remain, and I'm starting to shop around for a race boat to order and have shipped here for stateside events. Just last week it was announced that the US Nationals will be held in August on the Lehigh River in eastern PA. Of course I'll be there!

Thanks again, and let me know if there's anything I can do for any of YOU!



May 22 Email:
One week to FRANCE

Hello friends!

This morning I was excited to read the story about my kayaking in the Post-Gazette, and that proper credit was given to my sponsors and donors! Thank you NuGo, 3ROC, and Snappy's! Please pass it around if you like!

I have 12 days to the races and 5 days before travelling to France, so this past week was filled with proper training and ended with the annual Stonycreek River Race in Johnstown, PA. About 40 kayakers and canoeists signed up for the 3.5 mile race down class 2 whitewater with two class 3 drops. It was the first time since National Team Trials I raced in my wildwater boat, so it would be a milestone. I won the race by 6 seconds, just ahead of one of my training partners, Martin Wick!

That's the best news, but there is more. Training has been a two-front battle, with intense workouts on the flatwater and skills work on whitewater. The flatwater workouts reached their pinnacle this week (timing is everything, and my coach is trying to get me to "peak" at the races in France) and I nearly fell out of my kayak from exhaustion a few times. The scary and possibly dangerous part, though, comes with the whitewater, and I've been limited by the schedules of partners to be there for safety. Early in the week, though, I was unable to find a friend to paddle with, and I decided to take the risk and go solo. I paddled The Mile of Slippery Rock Creek, which is the first mile directly below McConnells Mill in the namesake state park. The Mile includes about a half dozen class 3 rapids, most of them with technical lines, which give me the best approximation of the rapids I'll encounter on the Rivière Vezere in France.

During my first time down The Mile my giant boat spun out right in front of a huge midstream boulder! Fortunately, I was able to get back on track and ran the rest of the rapids just fine. I put the boat on my shoulder, hiked the Kildoo Trail back up to the Mill (navigating the kayak through boulders and between trees was like running rapids!), and launched again. I aced my second run, and the confidence came back. I did this twice more - a total of four miles paddled and four miles walked. Getting down The Mile without any hang-ups - and being able to paddle the awkward race boat hard - in the final three laps was the triumph I needed!

The training continues this week, along with packing and a few work obligations, and Molly and I take off for Paris on Friday afternoon. We'll arrive early Saturday morning, meet up with two of my Team USA teammates at the airport, and drive the five hours to Treignac while recovering from jet lag. It's getting closer, and we're getting excited!

I could not be embarking without all of the support from YOU! I'm humbled by the support you've given and cannot thank you enough!




May 28 Email:
ENROUTE . . . to France!

Good afternoon!

To those of you who recently donated to the GoFundMe, THANK YOU!! I have been trying to update supporters with an email every week or so, and this is the fourth one. If you would like to see earlier emails, please just let me know!

First off . . . YOU HAVE HELPED ME TO MEET THE GOAL OF $5000! I'm am feeling humbled, squeamish, excited, thankful, motivated, and probably several other unknown-to-me emotions all at once. I can't possibly articulate the feeling of seeing a list of donors that includes a range of close family and friends to friends I lost touch with years ago. More than anything, it's inspiring, and I will think of each and every one of you while racing my hardest next week. And, with travel disruptions the costs have compounded, so I will most definitely need the surplus for this endeavor.

Travel began yesterday with disruptions. I've never been one to sit still for long, but, those disruptions have necessitated it. After a 24-hour set back, Molly and I are spending most of today in Dulles Airport awaiting a 5:20 pm overnight flight to Paris.

I thought some of you might like to know my schedule for the next week-and-a-half:

1. Tomorrow, May 29th: Arrival at Paris Airport. Pick up one teammate (Tyler) and start the 5-hour drive, along with Molly, to Treignac, where the races begin on June 3rd. After settling into accommodations in Treignac and meeting up with the entire team to find the boats we're borrowing from the various international teams (UK and Italy, I think), we'll discuss the logistics of the four-day training period leading up to the races.

2. May 30 - June 2: Each day the valve in the dam just upstream of Treignac is opened up to give us proper flow on the Riviere Vezere. I hope to paddle it 3x on the 30th and 31st, and then 2x on the 1st and 2nd. As much as doing this will tire me out, it's far more important that I learn the rapids, because knowing the proper lines through rapids is the primary way to go fast. Paddling hard is the way to go even faster one I get on the right line. I'll also study videos of the Vezere and adjust the outfitting of my loaner boat over this time.

3. June 3rd: Sprint qualifiers. Racers will be sent down a half-mile course at 30 second intervals and I'll each get two attempts at qualifying for finals. There's one big rapid in the middle of the sprint course, with a lot of "boogie water," or non-consequential class 1 and 2 whitewater, above and below the rapid. The course should take like 2 minutes and the racers with the fastest times from qualifying heats (not sure how many) will be invited to race in finals (at 1-minute intervals this time) on the morning of the 4th.

4. June 4th: Sprint finals and team sprints. For the US team, three of us (Garet, Graeme, and I) will start the course all at once and race together. Our time is recorded when the third boat crosses the finish line. To strategize, we will do as much drafting as possible - which is very challenging in whitewater - with the fastest two boaters "pulling" the slowest in turn. I hope to be one of the pullers!

5. June 5th: Classic races. This is a 4-mile course along the Vezere, and we are sent at 1-minute intervals. Racers each get only one attempt, but I am on the Senior team (open adult ages) as well as Masters (35+) so I will race twice, once as a Senior and once as a Master.

6. June 6th: Team Classics, and the final day of racing. The three of us will do the 4-mile classic course just like we did with the sprint (see item 5 above).

7. June 7th: Molly and I hustle to Paris to catch our return flight. We land in Pittsburgh sometime in the evening.

All this sitting around has made me very antsy and ready to race! And, I feel ready! I'll hopefully shrug off the jet lag, hand over a cup of pale yellow liquid to the WADA officials on Sunday evening, and then rest well before I begin to learn the river on Monday. But, the Vezere looks challenging, so I may be spending evenings repairing my boat!

Molly will hopefully do some social media posts for me, so if you're not friends on FB with her, please reach out now!

So much love!!



May 31 Email
Day 1 Training in France

Sacre Bleu! This is so damn hard!

Hello everybody from Treignac! Molly and I are settled in and I have two days of training under my belt. The travel was horrendous due to Mother Nature's last minute storm front causing delays in Newark, NJ, but forty-eight hours after leaving our home in Pgh we checked into our small apartment in the center of Treignac (right across the street from the podium and concert venue . . . my sister would be in HEAVEN!).

If you're interested, I'll tell you how I spent my first day on the Vezere River. And, in order to help you to understand the racing venue, here's a visual explanation:

All the racing take place on a 5 mile stretch of the Vezere River. At mile zero is the launch. At mile 1 is the starting line of the Classic 4-mile endurance course (beginning with a ramp down a 6 foot dam). At mile 1.5 is the start of the Sprint course (at a break in a 4 foot dam). At that point the river is nothing but whitewater through to the end. At mile 2 is the end of the Sprint course, right in the center of Treignac. The river continues for like 3 more miles to mile 5, where the end of the Classic Course and take-out are.

If you've seen Molly's Facebook post then you saw that Day 1 had a disaster on the menu. I'll try to articulate the scenario without too much jargon. In the morning I met my loaner boat and got it situated. It felt like a great fit, so as a team we launched. In the warmup section, I received a little information about the river from my teammates (but not nearly enough) and off we went into the race course. I had very little trouble with the sprint course and then we all got out and walked back up to the sprint start to do that section again. The second lap was good, too, and so four of us planned to continue to practice the section below, which is the bottom 3 miles of the Classic course. Remember these race boats are VERY hard to control.

Within seconds we were moving along very fast with waves, rocks, and hydraulics everywhere. Navigating the Vezere - finding the "line" - was stressful with no breaks. This is nothing like the "pool/drop" rivers we know in Western PA. Before long I was "playing defense" and just trying to respond to the river, rather than racing it and finding lines. With no pools, my teammates were unable to stop to give me important information about upcoming stretches of whitewater with only a few exceptions. Still, I was managing to make my way down without any big trouble. However, my stress level was topping out and that's never a good thing because it makes me tense, rather than relaxed the way I need to be.

I made it about 2/3 down of the way down the Classic Course. We all stopped in one of the few calm spots. I was given the line through the next rapid - double-drop - and told, "then just follow us," which had been next to impossible since my teammates have all paddled this river and these boats far more than I have and so they are able to keep up a faster pace on a river they all know. So, I took the described line at the double-trop rapid, messed it up just enough to get spun out and then the boat flipped over. For the second time that day I rolled the boat back up (success!), but in that amount of time I took to roll my boat had floated sideways into a hydraulic. Due to the boat's awkward shape, I kind of half flipped over at that point and was at the mercy of the river, going nowhere. I was stuck and unable to roll. So, I took the kayaker's last resort and yanked on the "ripcord" that seals me into the kayak. Off went the boat and luckily I was close to shore so I got there no problem. Unscathed, I started hiking downstream and looked at three more rapids that would have probably crushed me even worse.

I found my teammates and they showed me the boat, which they had retrieved from the current. It had broken in two, and only the front 50% of the boat remained. The other half was nowhere to be found.

Here I am carrying what remained of my borrowed race boat:


And another perspective:




Upon returning to the launch area, my team quickly secured a "Wavehopper," to borrow - a plastic version of the racing kayak - from the British team (they bring spare boats). After a quick lunch with Molly (I ate very little) and eager to get back on the horse, I jumped in it, paddled down, and ran the sprint course. I got out at the bottom, and carried the boat (way heavier than a composite racing boat) to the sprint start and did it again. And then I did it again, and again, a total of five times. Last night I was sore from carrying a heavy boat over and over, not from kayaking, but even though the wavehopper is kind of like paddling with training wheels, my confidence had begun to resurface.

In the evening, back at the apartment with Molly, it became clear to me just how lucky I am. With my nerves shot and my body aching, Molly is the most perfect partner for support at times like these. She had spent the day in Treignac procuring steak, fresh produce, and fresh baked bread. We sat in our little garden courtyard, sipped a little wine, and ate while she listened to me grumble about how hard this is going to be and how the USA team is doing a terrible job of grooming their newest member. Then, she reminded me that I can do this, that giving in is never an option, and that she's proud I got here in the first place. I love you, Molly!!

To close, all I will tell you about day 2 is that my two-wheeler with training wheels was traded in for a tricycle, but confidence is now back up!

Thanks so much for all of your kind words of support; they are working miracles for me!!

June 1 Email:
Day 2 training

Hello from France!

After the first day of training included a swim and a broken boat, there really was no place to go but up. Nerves left me unable to eat, and then I didn't sleep that night at all. Anxious thoughts about paddling the Vezere were pervasive through till morning, when I "woke" up to a drizzle and colder temps. Coffee steadied me a bit, but I still had no appetite (this despite the fact that Molly walked around town and came back with Espresso and pastries to entice me). This river, and the lack of support I was receiving from my team leadership over the past 7 weeks, had created an internal toxicity exacerbated by grey skies.

I arrived at the launch site at 9:30 AM alone, and the team assembled soon afterward. My wavehopper (that's the "training wheels" boat) came off the British trailer. I told my team captain and manager I had a different plan. I didn't want a race boat, or a wavehopper. I wanted a short, plastic boat - a regular old whitewater boat like the one I paddle for fun. They scoffed and told me I was nuts. I persisted and told them Molly had done some recon the afternoon before, discovering that boats could be rented at the lake up the road. But I don't speak French, and they were all rented when Molly talked to them. So I needed the manager's help. She shrugged, smirked, and said, "Fine. Give me 30 minutes and I'll go up there to take a look"

The team took off down the river and the manager went to pick them up from their first run and drop by the lake to scope out rental boats. I laid down and tried to sleep in the wet grass, my head on my life jacket.

Before I could doze off I heard vehicles rumbling past on the gravel. I looked up and saw an outfitter with a trailer full of boats turn and park next to the launch site.

I walked over and Bon Jour'ed the two men who got out. "Do you speak English?" I said with praying hands to emphasize my desperation. "A little," one of the men said.

"I am a racer with the American team. I broke my boat in training yesterday and I need one of these boats to use today, so that I can learn the river. Can I rent one from you?"

"Of course, we aren't using this one," he said, pointing to a Perception Supersonic (I'd never heard of this model but it would have to do). "You can use it tomorrow, too."

I spent the next 4 minutes convincing myself that there were no misunderstood strings attached through the language barrier. It was legit and all they wanted was two beers. I promised ten.

Here's a kayaker in a Supersonic:


Notice how different it is from what I'd broken the day before:



I grabbed the boat, ran over to where I had been trying to sleep, and threw on my paddling gear. I left a note for the manager, saying: "I found a boat. Please look for me at the take out," and left it on the wavehopper, where she would be expecting me to wait for her.

I slipped into the Vezere in a completely maneuverable kayak. I smiled for the first time in 36 hours. Then the sun came out.

The remainder of the day was a perfect learning experience. I paddled the entire Vezere once. I got out just as the team was finishing their second lap, and shuttled up to the top with them. While they ate lunch, I ate as quickly as I could and went back out. I paddled the entire Vezere a second time. Then, toward the end, when I got through the hardest part (and the spot where I swam on day one), I pulled over to the bank, carried the small boat up the trail a half mile, and paddled through the big rapids again. Then I did it again. And again, and again a total of eight times. On my last walk up through the woods along the river, I saw my team pass in their boats. We smiled at each other, I completed the hike, and launched one last time. At that point I had run the hardest half mile of the Vezere a total of ten times. I knew where every rock, tree, hydraulic, and wave was, and precisely where I needed to be the next time I was in a long boat.

The Vezere had kept me up all night and driven me mad with anxiety. Now I was sore from carrying my boat so much, but I was no longer scared (ok, so maybe just a little!)

Molly and I walked through the town that evening and had dinner at a creperie with an open-air balcony where a 900-year-old bridge spans the Vezere. I pointed out the "line" while we sampled the French classic meal. Morale had taken a 180 and I was already looking forward to day 3.

I'll write that update soon . . . I'm having a great time now and I love you all. Thanks so much for all the wonderful encouragement.

Matt

Here's Molly outside our apartment in Treignac:



And a news broadcast from the World Championships: https://fb.watch/dnw2UIXaBV/

June 3 Email:
Training Days 3 & 4

Good afternoon from France!

I'm really sorry for the delay in my reports. As you may have picked up from my last email, this is TOUGH and I'm pretty tired each night!

I just finished my first day of racing, but I wanted to keep the chronology of my emails. If you want to just skip to the end for the video feed of today's heats, scroll to the bottom of this email. But only if you're okay spoiling my update on race day 1!

On to my report:

After my day doing laps in the small kayak on day 2, I woke up determined to get in the Wavehopper (training wheels boat) and see how successfully I'd scouted out and learned the race lines through the rapids. The team was doing a sleep-in and then paddling a double header on the classic 4-mile course just before lunch. I got to the launch first (I'm always there first), suited up, stretched, and waited for the team. They arrived with our helpers - the British team - and we unloaded about 15 kayaks, including my heavy Wavehopper.

My reconnaissance mission the day before paid off, and then some. With only a few misses, the trajectories through big waves at the sharp bends, the technical and narrow lines between hydraulics, and the precise lines through the big rapids that came with consequences were spot on. The best part, though, was keeping up with my teammates, Graeme and Sandrine (at least for the most part). They're both faster than me, and the wavehopper is slower than their wildwater boats, but it's also more responsive. I was making small corrections and finding the line, over and over, at hundreds of different places. I imagined dropping my time by a half-second here, a half-second there, and all the half-seconds accumulating in my mind into minutes. I watched Graeme crash hard (but no swim) and also get pinned mid-rapid (also no swim; he's really good at recovering) and both times I paddled past him, holding the fast line. I even led the way through the big rapids toward the finish, because now I had paddled through them more times than anybody!

That day was a real turn around for me. I now knew what to expect throughout the entire course. I knew and could visualize the lines through the big rapids, and had vivid memories of the tricky ones. I knew what to do in the "flatwater," which on any other river would be the intermediate whitewater, because on this section of the Vezere there is no flatwater.

I was grinning at the end of those two runs, and despite my insistence that this kind of kayaking takes all the fun out of the activity, I was feeling great. And, I wasn't scared anymore. So, when we got to the end of our second run I suggested a third trip, but nobody else was interested. So, we all took the afternoon off. Molly and I went up to the team house (I'm the only one who has spousal support and, thus, staying elsewhere), hung out for the afternoon and then cooked a giant feast for the team that evening.

After that third day of training, I'd come to a conclusion: seeing as getting my boat on the right line is priority one (second technique; third power), the Wavehopper is the boat for me this time around. It takes years to get good at paddling the wildwater kayak and I'm only a few months in, with limited experience in serious whitewater like the Vezere. I asked my new friend, Nick, from the British line-up, if he'd let me borrow the "whopper" throughout the racing events and got the thumbs up.

Day 4 of training was the final day before racing. Garet, Graeme, and I make up the Men's K1 team for team events, so we practiced the team sprint event format. After three runs with a few different strategies (and a swim! and it wasn't me!) we decided on our format (you'll find out about that after we do it in the race). My team all took the remainder of the day off while I joined the older members of the British team on a practice run of the classic course. The good news is that once again I could keep up with seasoned veterans on a training run, even though they were all in wildwater boats, but the GREAT news is that I had a flawless run. No spin-outs. Nailing the lines throughout the run (okay, so there's always a few inches I could move to make up just a bit more time), I actually paddled FAST this time. My arms and core were completely spent at the end, and I even fell out of my boat trying to get out of it at the finish line dock.

For the first time since arriving in France, I looked around at the athletes around me and felt like I belonged. We laughed and jabbed about mistakes, analyzed lines, and laughed about the half-boat the British team still has strapped to the roof of their team van. It felt like a long time ago when I swam out of that boat.

That night, all of the teams assembled at Treignac's Place du College and promenaded through town to the Place du Penitents. We wore our TEAM USA track suits while hundreds of supporters and local residents lined the medieval streets to celebrate. While the local politicians and Canoe Federation officials made speeches in French, I snuck out and crashed early because, you know, the next day was kind of a big deal.

Here's a link to video of today's heats. My first run is at 1:10:24. My second is at 3:33:09. I'll give you the detailed report in a day or two.

Love to you ALL!!!




June 5 Email:
Racing - Days 1 & 2

The racing events have begun in Treignac!

With four laps of the Classic course in the "whopper' (or was it three?), a total of at least 14 laps on the big rapids at the bottom, about 6 or 8 devoted laps on the sprint course (remember it's part of the classic course so do the arithmetic and I've been down it 10+ times), one broken wildwater boat, and a broken paddle (drove over it with the rental car; sigh), the racing finally began in Treignac on Friday the 3rd. Oh, and a deck chair broke when I sat on it at our apartment; there's a theme here! The tiny town is not able to keep up with the influx of the spectators and supporters. The streets that aren't blocked are lined with poorly parked vehicles cramming into anything that looks like a spot. The few restaurants the town has are slammed, and the PA speakers, giant screens, and sponsors' banners have created intensity all along the sprint course through Treignac.

On Friday I raced in two sprint heats. You may have watched the video. Here's my recap of the USA men's kayak runs:

Heat 1 -- Graeme (bib #75) went first with a clean run. He didn't "nail" the lines, but it's next to impossible to do that unless you live and train here. He finished in 1:32. Then Tyler (bib #82) took his run. He spun out sideways at the big rapid in the middle of the course, recovered, and finished with a time of 2:00. I (bib #88) was next and - as you know if you've been reading - used a risk-averse style so I wouldn't spin out anywhere. It worked, and my time was 1:39. Garet (bib #101) went last and despite being the fastest and most experienced kayaker on the US team, he lost the line, slammed into a rock, breaking his footrests from the impact, and spun out at the bottom of the course because he was unable to adequately control his kayak with his feet loose inside the boat. Garet took the mishap in stride and began the logistical work of getting his spare boat, which was a 30-minute drive away, in time for his second heat, which was 90 minutes later.

The US team was clustered at the bottom of the rankings after heat 1, which seems to be the way it goes when racing on the world stage in Europe.

Heat 2 - Same order. Graeme (#75) took his second run down the sprint a little riskier since he had a clean run the first time, but it unfortunately didn't pay off. He spun out and finished with a time of 2:00. Tyler (#82) went next and his lap was even worse than his first. He spun out, flipped, rolled, flipped again, and swam. It was counted as a DNF ("did not finish"). It was sadly Tyler's time to go home for professional obligations, so he spent the next hours of the day with his head in his hands. I (#88) was next, and after the struggles Garet and Tyler had made in the first heat (I was unaware of heat 2 mishaps that had happened ahead of me), I played it safe again paddling conservatively until I felt very confident I was on the line, and only then would I pull harder than before. Unfortunately, I missed a few lines, which slowed me down, but I still had no spinouts. Pulling harder made for a wash and I matched my first heat's time with 1:39. Garet (#101) was able to get his spare boat and put together a solid race down the course with a time of 1:26.

Pride came in knowing that I was the only US men's team kayaker who had put together two heats without any spinouts, and I was the only one in the entire competition in a plastic boat, which I am now becoming aware is considerably slower than the wildwater boats. Watching the other racers, one can see their wildwater boat lurch ahead with each paddle stroke. The whopper has no such response. In this sport the US team is apparently the equivalent of the Jamaican Bobsledders with Graeme, Tyler, and me holding three of the bottom four positions in the rankings at the end of heats. I managed to beat a really nice guy named Harold on the Canadian team in both heats. Garet's time in his second heat landed him just south of the midpoint, 30th out of 57 finishers.

On day 2 the US team was entered in only one race - the men's team sprint. Garet, Graeme, and I would race together. Our attempt was scheduled for 4:15 in the afternoon which freed up most of the day. I tried desperately to find a partner for a practice run of the classic course with no avail, but it was okay because my sister, Julie; my cousin, Jessica; and my sister-in-law, Kristi were now in Treignac so I spent the morning with them. Joining Molly, they made for my best day here in Treignac so far. Molly showed them around town and I gave them all the team dynamics drama.

Speaking of that, Garet and Graeme had told me they wanted to do another practice run of the team sprint early in the afternoon, so I met up with them along the course. When I asked about it they both shrugged and Graeme asked me, "What's the point?". I now knew better than to continue with questions or suggestions of the obvious because it went nowhere every other time, so I went back up to meet my new favorite foursome in the entire world - Molly, Julie, Jess, and Kristi. I was able to get team dynamics off my mind for a few hours and then went up to the racing venue to get ready.

The team sprint went awful. Yes, it could have been worse (remember Tyler's swim and Garet's broken boat the day before), but we landed in last place due to my mistakes. I held the lines well in the top half of the course and through the one big rapid. Then, I got off line and spun out against the bank where hundreds of fans were screaming directly at me for my first spinout. Then, after recovering I spun out again, but this time I was so close to the finish line I just paddled backward across rather than trying to get back on track. Our time landed us in very last place, over 20 seconds behind the penultimate team from Japan.

It's now just past 8 am in France on the day of the classic races. I'm reminding myself that the long classic course is my venue; I'm too old to be a sprinter. I don't expect to do well in the rankings, but I want to beat at least a few others, especially in the Masters race which begins around 10:30. Then I have a few hours off before my second race: the Individual Classic, going against the world's top racers (all half my age). Race day jitters are burgeoning (strong coffee probably isn't helping!), but yesterday is behind me; I'm ready for today.

Thanks for reading and all your encouragement. Here goes.

June 5 Email:
Race day 3 - CLASSICS

Sprints are over here in Treignac, and the remainder of the racing on the Vezere River takes place on the 4-mile long classic course.

The course starts with a long ramp down an old dam into some easy whitewater. Then, we arrive at the top of the sprint course and paddle through that. At the bottom of the sprint course the Vezere leaves the roads and civilization of Treignac and winds through the forest. That's when the paddling begins to feel familiar; the rivers I'm used to paddling are in remote areas.

This morning's event was the Master's Classic race, which for men was grouped into three categories: 35 - 44, 45 - 54, and 55+. I competed against fourteen other gents in the middle group, and the number of greying beards I saw lining up this morning made this feel a lot different from the past two days. We were sent off at 1-minute intervals over a race that would take 17-18 minutes for the very fastest guys, and over 20 for a lot of us, so I knew there would be some passing. I had only one chance to get this right, so my plan was the same as it was in the sprint racing: get on the line, focus on technically sound paddling, and once both of those were in check, pull hard. I had only done the very complicated and long course three times in the "whopper," but I had a lot of additional runs of the course in the short boat on day 2 training as well as most of the course back when the wildwater boat was intact.

My run was clean (for me, at least). I recognized every turn and rapid, but sometimes it took me getting close before my memory was triggered. I had bib #59 and was passed by two Frenchmen wearing bibs #60 and #61, so I knew that they would be 1:00 and 2:00 ahead of me in the standings respectively. That was only mildly discouraging and I was feeling good throughout the run. I ran all the rapids the way I wanted and only paddled at full gas when I could, trying to gain every half-second possible through the easier sections (there is actually no easy section, only "easier" sections, as in they are easier than the hard sections).

The results were pleasing to me. I finished 12th out of 15 racers. I've clawed my way up in the standings.

After discussions with current and former team members, we decided against our entry in tomorrow's team classic event. So, my run of the Vezere this morning stands out as a highlight as I head home tomorrow.

In 7 days of paddling the Vezere I learned and developed tremendously. I can't adequately express my gratitude to each and every one of you; the experience here has been an incredible opportunity I will never forget.

Thanks again for reading and encouraging!!

June 24 Email:
Final Notes from Treignac & Thanks

Hello, and my apologies for the silence since the racing ended early in June. Traveling back from France took an extra day due to Covid testing setbacks, and I immediately had to attend to family vacation plans that are now wrapping up. Before I left for France I promised the kids that we'd get to family time as soon as I returned!

I have a final note and some thoughts on the future. But first, a very emphatic thank you to all of those who helped me get there:

SPONSORS - NuGo Nutrition, 3 Rivers Outdoor Company, Robb Real Estate, Snappy's Tap House, and Loughren PC (please support these fine businesses!)
Logistical/Shuttle/Safety Training Support - Martin Wick, Edward McGuiness, Brian Joly, Bill Warble, and Molly Pascal
Coaching - Joshua Friedman (ATP Race Consulting)
Strength Training - Ben Weinberger (Priority One Fitness)
Babysitting - Sam & Andrea Schachner, Mike & Rose Pascal, and Marc & Bridget Pascal
Fundraising - Julie Grove

And to everybody who pitched in either directly or via GoFundMe to make the dream a reality, I cannot thank you enough! Travel complications on both ends, a broken race boat, a broken race paddle, and so many unexpected costs would have made the 2022 World Championships a financial strain. I learned in France that it's all par for the course, and thankfully, because of your help, I had it covered and the experience will be something I'll never forget.

In eight days I paddled the Vezere over a dozen times in three different boats, using two different paddles. Once I dialed in the river's twists and countless rapids, I raced the short sprint course three times (2x in individual heats, once as team sprint), and the long classic course once. I came into the event underhanded: limited experience in the wildwater racing world; the catastrophic destruction of my borrowed race boat resulting in a second, slower, borrowed boat for racing; the steep learning curve in paddling the Vezere; little to no support from the US National team leadership; and of course my "advanced" age in the competition. I came out of the event feeling proud of my effort and results. Being 12th in the world (classic masters) isn't bad, wouldn't you say?

The Post-Gazette did a follow up to the original story on my addition to the US Team.

The P-G journalist, Abby Mackey, really wanted to know what's next for me. In the short term, US Wildwater Nationals are in late August on the Lehigh River in Eastern PA. The US Upstream Nationals are scheduled for the same day on the Youghiogheny in Ohiopyle, and so I'll certainly do one of those (most likely the latter). It's hard to say for now whether or not I'll try out for the National Team next year, but I still have a fully intact race boat here to train in, and I've learned a lot from the experience. It would be hard for me to just walk away from future potential so I'll be watching for the 2023 Team Trials and World Championships to be scheduled. Many of the European teams had separated Senior (18+) and Masters (35+) teams, and I wonder if the US team should follow suit. Plus, I know a few old guys who might be perfect additions to the team (see support above; you guys know who I'm talking about!).

It's been a quick and exciting run with the US National Team. I hope you've enjoyed my updates; I've definitely enjoyed your encouragement.

Thanks so much for everything,

Matt

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Exploring The Forks

"I'm bulletproof, man!" It was Brian's go-to explanation. My hands were covered in blisters, but not Brian's. My back was sore, my skin parched, and my feet rank, all because we'd been out for nearly a week, kayaking for miles upon miles each day. But Brian, 15 years older than me and a whopping 27 years older than Beau, was doing just fine. How was he doing it?

It had become obnoxious, his insistence that all of what enabled him to outlast and outperform us - and to do so comfortably - comes down to the way he prepares his coffee.

"Bulletproof" is a coffee concoction that includes coconut oil, butter, and heavy cream, and for nearly a year Brian has been drinking it every morning instead of eating breakfast. Ignoring any other reasonable explanations such as genetics, training, experience, or some combination of these and probably other attributes, Brian chalks it all up to his bulletproof coffee. I think he's working on an infomercial. 


That's why we all kind of loved it just a little - okay we loved it a lot - when Brian's thermos of bulletproof coffee rolled out of his kayak and splashed into the Shavers Fork of the Cheat River in West Virginia's Monongahela National Forest. We were deep into the wilderness with at least one more night on the river before we'd reach the car we'd left in Parsons, and Brian had no backup rations of the stuff.

Our 2017 multi-day trip was underway. For some time we were geared up to explore the Sturgeon River through Ottawa National Forest Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Then, it looked like a Canadian trip to Algonquin Park. Then Mother Nature made an 11th hour decision; Michigan dried up as Canada flooded and it began to rain in West Virginia.

A week paddling exclusively within the watershed of the Cheat River, the East Coast's largest free-flowing river system and one of our "backyard" regions, would have to do.


Our first river of the week would be epic; the centerpiece. The Shavers Fork has whitewater for nearly 60 miles between Cheat Bridge and Parsons, including a section of about 10 miles of non-stop class 3 and class 4 action. The majority of the river is wilderness, flowing through the National Forest with only a seldom visible and rarely used rail line beside it (we neither saw nor heard any trains in 3 days). Recent rain had provided plenty of current, but the forecast looked more like early March than mid-May. We embarked from Cheat Bridge under dreary skies in kayaks that were stuffed to the gills with enough food, camping gear, and warm, dry clothes for as many as three nights of camping that could possibly include winter weather.

About to launch

Our first day was spent on a stream of gathering might. Our stopping point for the night, High Falls of the Cheat, was 14 miles into the trip and was running sufficiently high that only the youngest and most daring member of the group, Beau, would paddle over it just before we made camp and climbed into our tents. Beau's line over the 15-foot vertical drop was a little off, but he came out clean and the rest of us decided we'd take another look at it in the morning.

Then it rained. Then it snowed. And then we woke up to an early May winterland.

Wake up, guys, it's winter again!
The whitewater really kicks in after High Falls, and with the overnight rain the Shavers Fork that kick was even a bit more, turning into a relentlessly continuous sequence of drops, one after another, for miles. It was 90 minutes of doing what we love (in 100 lb boats that were 12 feet long) with no break from the adrenaline.  We scouted a few drops, snuck around a powerful horseshoe-shaped hydraulic under a railroad bridge that looked like it could have swallowed the train, and then came to a halt when we saw the river drop out of sight. We were at the ledges.

The ledges just above Bemis, WV constitute a sequence of three river-wide recirculating hydraulics spaced about 20 - 30 feet apart. In between the hydraulics is nothing but strong current hoping to sweep any buoyant object into one of those hydraulics for a long and bumpy ride. With the boats full of all our camping gear and food and because of the higher water level, padding through them was quickly nixed by each of us. A conversation began about portaging along the steep and thickly forested canyon wall, which quickly became a conversation about lining the boats. Lining boats through a rapid is a relatively straight forward technique: simply use a rope to carefully lower them, unmanned, to the bottom. Well, at least it sounds simple, but it's actually rather complex, and the mishap that befell Brian's thermos of bulletproof next was straight-up comedy.

Here it is in three acts:

Act I: The Double

Ed and Beau are positioned, riverside, at the top of the ledges, with Ed letting out rope and Beau sitting as backup. My boat is attached to Brian's end-to-end and Ed's rope is attached to the upstream (stern) end of Brian's boat. From the downstream (bow) end of my boat, a second rope is attached, the other end of which I am holding, about 75 feet below Ed at the bottom of the rapid while standing on a giant slab of riverside bedrock. My boat has a skirt fastened onto it, with rope around the skirt's opening to hold everything inside just in case the boat flips over. Brian trusted our lining protocol so much that he hadn't fastened anything to anything.

Brian, sitting as my backup, informs me that he's going to run into the woods to take a leak just as Ed begins to let out his rope, and I begin to collect mine. All's fine until the boats are 2/3 of the way down the rapid at which point the current begins to pull the boats toward the center of the river (which I'm trying to prevent by tugging on my rope).Brian's boat gets snagged on a rock and begins to flip over (don't forget his boat has no skirt!). At the same time, Ed runs out of rope and all of a sudden the upstream rope lets go. I don't think Ed let go of it. Rather, something broke or snagged or loosened, but all I know is that I now have two boats at the mercy of very heavy current and gradient coming at me and I was the only one holding onto the entire system as it gained momentum. I blow my whistle hard because in about 3 seconds I'll be doing whatever I can to hold back about 1000 pounds of tension in my rope, if not more.

I ran into the woods holding the rope, which still had some slack, and got behind a small desk-sized boulder, sat down, and jammed my feet up against it. I ran the rope around my back, and got ready for the pull. I saw Beau and Ed fumbling down the bank, splashing into the water accidentally,  jostling with trees, rocks, and rhododendron, frenetically trying to get to me. Brian showed up just as his boat flipped and gear began to flush out. Out splashed his water filter, his water bottle, and his thermos, which were all gone in a microsecond.

Fortunately it was over quickly. I was able to hold the rope tight as the two-boat system swung back to shore just downstream of my position, slamming against the boulder. Brian emerged from his bathroom break, quickly fastened a second rope to one of the boats, and together with the others we pulled the entire system out of the water.

That's when Brian realized his bulletproof was gone. For us, though, it made the moment all the more palatable, a small laugh to stave off the exhaustion of what had just transpired. Brian wasn't laughing.

Act II: The Single

Even though the problems that arose with our first attempt had nothing to do with the two-boat system, we decided to play it safe next by lining only one boat. Beau's boat was prepared by fastening a skirt, and again Ed positioned himself at the top of the rapid with the task of lowering the boat. I was again at the bottom taking up slack in my rope. Tragedy struck again, this time at the point when a second rope was attached on the upstream end after Ed ran out of rope. This time, the attachment snapped under the weight of the system, and - just like before - Beau's boat floated free, at the mercy of the river. Again, I ran to the woods and got into the most stable possible position, and held the boat. This time I watched Beau's boat get churned for a few seconds in one of the hydraulics. First the skirt he'd fastened was ripped from the cockpit. Then, a dry bag exited along with other gear. After my urgent whistle blast, a re-enactment of the first mishap played out and before long, all four of us were hunched over a beached boat, trying to catch our breath.

This time, however, it was serious. Beau's skirt was imperative for the remainder of the trip because without it his boat would be repeatedly swamped in every wave or rapid. So, I ran downstream to see what I could find.

Swirling in an eddy at my feet was a collection of gear -- Beau's skirt and dry bag and Brian's water bottle, filter, and, yes, even his thermos full of bulletproof coffee. When I held up the thermos to show the group, Brian rejoiced while the others' eyes rolled like bowling balls.

Act III: The Finale

Beau had seen enough. Two attempts, three boats, zero success. He attached a short leash to Ed's boat and walked next to the boat while Ed and I lined it just as we had before. It worked perfectly, and while we got ourselves back in order so we could splash into the river to finish out our day, the sun came out.

Having made it through the rapids that people talk about around campfires, our remaining bit of river, about 30 miles, would be a cruise. We made it that day to Stuart Recreation Area, where we poached a spectacular pavilion with a stone hearth. Our gear was dry and our spirits high for day three - the final stretch to Parsons, a flatwater marathon peppered with wave trains.

For  three days we had paddled our kayaks down a supreme river of many moods. In the narrow upper reaches we peered through crystal to the bottom. In its mid-section waterfalls and turbulence kept our focus. Then, the bottom was the home stretch, over 20 miles before lunch. We reached Parsons with hot sun beaming down, contrasting the previous morning's taste of winter, and despite a sore back and blisters, I was ready for the next leg. But first, only a short walk from the take out in Parsons, Little Andi's Restaurant serves Rampburgers. Juicy, delicious rampburgers. How this is not a nationally-known culinary destination is beyond me.

The epic was over, but we weren't done yet. Two days of sunshine and warm temperatures enabled us to enjoy a 13 mile section of the Dry Fork, a river with some fantastic rapids, fun surfing waves, and outstanding scenery, followed by a second run down the best part of the Shavers Fork, this time at low water. With the confidence-inspiring weather, more reasonable water levels, and short, empty kayaks, we were able to tempt fate a little further this time, including a couple drops of High Falls.

My turn at High Falls

At the ledges, where we previously botched 2 out of 3 lining attempts and Brian had temporarily lost his incomparable bulletproof coffee, we all independently stopped, got out of our kayaks, pondered the hydraulics and possible routes around or through them, and made our best go at the big rapid. Nobody really talked much, just kind of formulated his own plan. Then each of us took a different successful route and reconvened at the bottom.

Ed launches off the bottom ledge.

Brian goes deep into a seam.
It seems that for every new river I get on in my kayak, many more expose themselves for the next trip. Nabbing a full run of the Shavers and the whitewater of the Dry just created a glaring omission in my Forks of the Cheat resume': The Laurel Fork. Perhaps 2018.

Git r dun!

Monday, February 20, 2017

Dream(s)

At one of the many turnouts off of Canaan Loop Rd, high up in West Virginia's Tucker County, there is a campsite. It's along Red Run, one of the color-coded tributaries of the Cheat River, one of the East's last remaining untamed river systems.

Let's go there with nothing to do, for days.

In Northcentral PA's Allegheny National Forest, near Merienville, is a seldom visited tract of grassland serviced by a gated forest road. It's called Buzzard Swamp, and I was introduced to it by a friend in the summer of 2015. A few miles in, at the far end of a pristine lake is a campsite under a lone, giant sycamore.

I want to pack in, sit down, and find some time, just us.

On the pristine streams like Indian Creek, not too far away from home, are pools that, at low water on a beautiful July afternoon, are isolated and idyllic. Nobody for miles. Big gulps of fresh forested air and crystal clear water trickling across the bedrock. They're on the small creeks and on the tributaries of the big rivers. They're easy enough to get to for a day trip and hard enough to get to for crowds. It would be just us.

Let's sit in it and breathe it in.

Dreams like this are challenges because they represent a paradox to me. In theory, I want to soak up as much of a unique natural setting as possible by just sitting, observing, and being present. Being mindful. Then, when I get the chance I typically don't. I run. I climb. I swim and paddle and jump and swing and dig. Then, if I have time, after I've exhausted myself, I relax.

But sometimes it eventually happens. Come along and see.

In the summertime, the water's warm and clear in French Creek. In the evening, in the low sunlight, you can lay belly-down on one of the many shallow, rocky shoals. If you lower your face to the water and look upstream you can watch the continual approach of water as it swirls around you on its gentle downhill journey. If you're lucky the water reflects a pink sky and setting sun above the pines. I like to lie still until the riffles subside to a flow state. It might be the most relaxing thing I've ever done.

Will you come and do it with me? Can I show you? We can jump off the rope swing first if that makes any difference.

I'll do the things you want to do, too. I love a matinee and really enjoy sushi. I'll play chess and build Legos. I'll draw you pictures to color in, try the dance moves you just learned, cook your favorite meal, and watch you learn karate. I've been known to enjoy the beach.

Let's dream together. In a flash we can have treehouses designed, built, and lived in. Rivers floated, trails navigated, and bastards knocked off. Then, just being there. The only thing common to these dreams are the characters, and then let's really do it.

Let's find some good weather and toss top-roping gear, a chess board, a few books, and camping gear into a canoe and float Smokehole Canyon over a week, really slowly. I think there are some crags back in there worth exploring. Let's do that lying down in the water thing there, too.

Let's lash cedar logs together and pole down a stream, fishing, talking, thinking, and not much else.

Let's make a plan to have no plan for a few days, in Montana. Just us. The family.

Then let's do that same thing in the Adirondacks.

You're in for a trip, because I'm no different than anybody else, always dreaming. And like anybody else I try to make those dreams come true.

Or am I different? Are we? I often wonder.


Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Best. Summer. Ever!

Westfjords
Iceland wasn't our first choice, much as it had always been on my bucket list. After a year mostly spent in bed because of two reconstructive foot operations, and Matt on full time duty (bread-winner, chef, parent, cleaner, care-giver, etc.), we decided that the Worst Year Ever should be followed by The Best Summer Ever. We planned to vacation our hearts out on a budget of about $15 a day. Because, you know, the Pascals love a challenge.
One of the bridges at Ϸorsmork

For two months, we tried to make a western US National Parks road trip work, but, as it turned out, the year that the National Parks celebrates 100 years, everyone wanted to go to the same place. Matt and I generally like to go places other people don't like. For example, hiking is great during Steeler games around here.

So, with Yellowstone and Old Faithful in my mind, I searched for geysers worldwide. It turned out that the name "geyser" came from Iceland (pronounced: GAY-seer). Then I found tickets for about $300 round trip per person to Reykavik and back. The destination was nailed down when I then found a camping card that gave us 28 nights of camping throughout Iceland for $100. Without deliberation I called Matt at work.

Totally viking
“I just bought airplane tickets. We’re going to Iceland.”

“Now?” he asked. It was January.

“No, this summer, for a month!”

A reasonable person at this point should have had some worries. You know what "they" say about a good thing - if it's too good to be true.... Well, it turns out, that not many people in their right mind would spend a month camping in Iceland- even in July. The summer days hit 60 at best on a good day and often drop into the 30s (on what they still consider a good day). Over and over, we were told, "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes." It can go from sun and blue skies, to sideways rain, to snow, and back again before you can get your winter coat out. But, it’s never hot. Then, there's the wind. Let's just say, they don't sell umbrellas in Iceland. 

And then there’s the cost of food and of renting a car and the petrol to make it go. Here’s how one should go about estimating these costs: take the amount you’d expect to pay here in the States and multiply it by five.

That’s if you find a deal. If not, make it eight. Or, ten.

Jokulsarlon
Food is somewhat ripe for frugality and the result was a loss of about 25 collective pounds between the four of us. There’s no choice about gas, it just costs a lot in Iceland. So the real way to survive on a budget in Iceland is to rent a cheap car. Of course, you get what you pay for. Our 15-year-old Toyota Rav4 had no gas cap. It was squared-off with dents like a Lego creation and looked like the builder ran out of black blocks and had to instead finish the project with green. All of the following attributes of the car were wildly insufficient for driving on a paved road, much less the gravel “F-roads” that are necessary if you want to find the real gems: tires; suspension; wipers; windows and the motors to open them; gas gauge; door latches. You know, all the things that make driving safe, other than the engine. Cry if you like, because our “Sad” car (a real rental agency) eventually got a flat and then two days later broke down completely. For all we know it’s stull marooned roadside between Gullfoss and Geysir.

Secret Lagoon, in Fludir
Yet the car boldly took on un-guard-railed switchbacks, one way bridges, one way tunnels  (miles long, with pullouts carved out of the rock so one can swing out of the way of the car barreling towards you), and one police officer.

Fortunately we were prepared for frugality in one department. We are self-proclaimed "tech-rebels" and traveled the country with a pre-paid flip phone with 90 minutes of usage. Total. It remained off, never needed charging in the entire month, and kept us in the dark for weather forecasts, news, and social media. (Of course it is never actually dark in July in Iceland). We used it once, when the car broke down.

Matt and I have been to a decent number of places in our lives. Between the two of us, we’ve either traveled to or lived in many countries in Europe as well as Israel, Turkey, India, Thailand, Canada, Mexico, the Caribbean, South Africa, and at least forty states. Does “passing through” or layovers count? If so, that list would more than double.

The Flat 
The point isn't the number of places, it is the surge of excitement and fear, of uncertainty and awe. It is the experience of putting of oneself purposefully into the position of "other" which hammers American jingoism out of the mind and forces the visitor to learn and respect how many ways there are of living. This is what we want to experience again and again, and what we want to give our children. 
Over the years, cities have fallen low on our list and been replaced by natural wonders. In 3.5 weeks of traveling around Iceland, we spent about a half day in the city of Reykavik, home to the majority of Iceland’s population. The remaining 24 days, we spent exploring the wildness.

We drove through lunar landscape that made me almost believe the moon landings could have been faked. We found Hobbiton. We hiked volcanoes, touched glaciers, bathed in hot rivers and counted hundreds of waterfalls. Ate countless gas station breakfasts. 

Crossing a river in a bus
Aggressive Arctic terns brought my husband to his knees while our six year old son defended him with his wooden replica Viking sword. Hopping on a monster bus which forded rivers 20 times to reach the idyllic den of Ϸorsmork. Walking at 2 am under a white sky. Skipping the tourist mecca of the Blue Lagoon (affectionately nicknamed by the locals as “The Hot Sperm”) for “The Secret Lagoon.” Hitting dozens of geothermically heated swimming pools, waterslides, and hot tubs around the country, but best of all, discovering the secret naturally heated “pots” known by locals and unlisted in the guides. All you can eat pancakes on bone china inside a 150-year old turf house. 

And we learned a smattering of Icelandic along the way. Here we are practicing: