I Don't Think We're Alone!

Mark shouts a barrage of profanities at us.  I don't think he was angry with us, I believe it is the equivalent of a dinner bell in his eyes... Either way it worked.  He shouts, we eat.  Good system.  

As a side note I have to say I will not be able to do justice with words how fantastic Mark was as a camp cook.  Every meal we ate was excellent and he made it look effortless.  From this day forward I will always pack a Mark Carlson in my expedition gear if possible.  Seriously, you get so used to the cursing that after a few days you don't even notice it...

First night menu was a sausage and potatoes cajun kinda deal.  It was great.  After a day of one trying situation after another, a roaring fire and a hot meal were just what we needed to 'right the ship' and start having some fun.  Maybe even loosen up a bit...

Of the six of us, Seth and I don't drink at all, Mark drinks so rarely you might as well say he doesn't drink either, Rob might have the occasional beer and we all know Greg likes his beers.  And then there is Mike...

At this point in the evening we have come to terms with being behind schedule, have a great camp site with a nice fire, we are dry, have full bellies and for the first time of the actual trip we are enjoying ourselves.  Mark is out exploring the island looking for his wilderness friends, Seth has cell signal so he checks in with family letting everyone know we are alright, Rob is enjoying a Pepsi Max,  I break out the cigars, Greg cracks another cold one and Mike is sipping a bottle of what I assumed was iced tea.   

Mark stealthily creeps back to our camp through the foliage and shouts "Hey!" we all jump much to his chagrin.  "There is another camp on the other side of the island.  It's like a big party or something..."  A quick glance around the fire confirmed that no one was really in the mood to "meet the neighbors" tonight.  I couldn't speak for everyone but I was TIRED.   Getting in the sleeping bag and laying on the rocky ground sounded awesome right now. 

Mike however, takes a pull off his "ice tea" bottle and starts yelling "Wooooooooooo!!!!"  Like... a lot.  "WoooOOOooooeeee!" Take a drag of "tea" then...  Whooooooooooop whoooooop!" And so on.  Of the Six, I am the biggest jokester and by far the loudest one.  I always have a story to tell, some joke or just basic clowning around.  Mike on the other hand is a pretty quiet, reserved guy.  This "Whoooping" about was actually getting me concerned.  Had he gone around the bend?  Was one day of arduous canoeing all it took?  Done?

As I pondered that mystery Mike began making some kind of plan, "...go over and see what the hell is going on! Wooooop!" that I had no interest in.  I sort of  shuffled away form the fire as my own #2 anxiety was starting to grow.  

Going to the bathroom without a bathroom is not something I practice with much regularity.  Full disclosure:  It would have been like 1984 or so since I had used an un-bathroom.  Of all the things that had me on edge about this trip, going #2 was the most unreasonable yet the most unrelenting concern.  I knew I would have to go eventually but, until that moment happened I would try not to worry about it.  

"Patrick!  Buzzman!  Get over here!"  yells Mike.  He calls us around the fire to begin to tell us how much he loves us  (Greg immediately began nervously shuffling his feet) and how much this group of guys on this trip mean to him.  Right about now is when I figure out Mike's tea wasn't tea.  It was some of Clermont, Kentucky's finest bourbon.  That thar tea was Jim Beam and Michael was half in the bag.  

He was still speaking in complete sentences when he came over to me and said "Patrick, I may need your help..."  I started to say "Anything you need..." when he continued " I was trying to warm up with a little 'Beam and I might have gotten a little too warm.  Don't let me do anything stupid!"  I joked and said "Too late, little buddy." Then the wheels came off...

He went from coherent to indecipherable in one sentence.  Extreme cold + empty stomach + Stress filled day + Bourbon = Good Night Irene!  The only way I can describe it was it was as if he had been tranquilized.   Rubber knees and all!  He never did go over to meet the neighbors, something I'm sure he still regrets!  I won't tease him too much here.  It was all good fun and we had taken his oars so he wasn't rowing anywhere!  

The sleeping arrangements are: Mike, Mark, Rob and Greg in the big tent.  Seth and I in the small one.  I mumble something about heading to bed and everyone more or less follows suit.  I ask Seth jokingly if he was going to load the gun for bed and he dead pans back "It was never unloaded.  Duh."

I am using a borrowed sleeping bag because I am such an outdoorsman I don't even own one... sheesh.  It's a mummy bag, which I have never used this type of bag.  It feels like being in a cocoon with a small "face-hole" to breathe out of.  I was super warm and very happy to be so!

I have an ability to fall asleep under any circumstances.  Maybe all those years of touring still has me conditioned to "Sleep when you can!" But I am a hit the pillow kind of sleeper.  Something that my camp mates apparently don't like!  It may also have something to do with snoring.  Which I am guilty of... but so are they!  I just did it first...



Pictured above: Greg, Mr. Beam and Patrick

    

This is FUN dammit!

So the realization as to how far behind schedule we were was certainly disheartening to me.  It was devastating to Seth. 

On our drive up to Warren this brisk morning we stopped at a gas station just outside of Clarion, PA for one last taste of basic comfort type foods (Mmmmmm... cinnabon!) before the trip and the last flush toilet we would see as well.  All of us were individually warned by Seth not to dally.  We were then individually scolded upon return for, you guessed it: Dallying.  So needless to say schedule and time were important to Seth.

We get back out in the river and notice that Greg and Mark were just coming into view on the horizon.  Seth and I easily paddle upriver to them.  We try to tell them we are going to pull over at a good spot and make some decisions, but I don't think they understood us or could even hear us over Mark's barrage of cursing.     Seth and I then nose it down river and what must have seemed like a puff of smoke to the Brew Canoe, we vanish (again due to our unfathomable speed.) 

We run down Mike and Rob in short work as well.  I remember thinking at the time that I would have figured them to be faster moving than what they seemed.  I mean, both were able bodied, Mike was probably the most experienced canoeist of us, Rob possessed the strength of ten mortal men and their canoe seemed to be tracking nicely.  Thought they would have been faster... Anyway, we tell them we have to have a meeting and figure this situation out.

We find a decent spot.  We even wait for Greg and Mark to get there before discussing our situation.  While we waited, Mike had been bragging about his blowtorch coffee that he makes with a ... well a blowtorch.  So I invite him to give me a sample of his wares.  Blowtorch+coffee pot+Sanka=Best Coffee Ever.  Actually just holding the warm cup was awesome, I don't know if I even drank the coffee.  Still frightfully cold.  We were all trembling so bad we decided that Muhammad Ali would have been alarmed and advised us to "have that checked out!"

The coffee helped.  No that's not a strong enough phrase.  The coffee might have saved our lives!

Mark and Greg pull in.  I have never seen Greg really "down."  As great of a guy as Greg is, staying upbeat seems to be his super power.  Even when things get crappy (Like say, dumping your canoe in freezing water!) he just always has a good outlook and a shit eating grin on his face.  However, Greg might have found his kryptonite...  Five straight hours of being yelled at using every known combination of profanity had taken it's toll.  Even the youngest and brightest among us had been beaten down.  Five hours of this adventure and we were all but done.  

After a summit meeting of all three canoes we decide a camp fire and a little R&R and an early start tomorrow will be the best plan. We will go until a minimum of 4:00pm (no matter what) then start looking for a spot to camp.  It was 2:00pm at this time.  Mark did stop swearing long enough to say he wanted to repack the Brew Canoe, burn the cooler and track down whoever invented inflatable coolers and throw a rock at them.  

So with the end of the water portion of our day at least in sight, we all had a little bit of zip and more gas in the tank.  Of course no one had a chance of keeping up with Seth and I.  As long as the water was deep enough for us to stay afloat the Bottom Dragger was a force to be reckoned with.  At exactly 3:20pm.  We see the greatest camp sight.  Ever.  It was lush and green and had easy access.  There was one serious problem.  For those of you following along at home: We had said we were going until 4:00pm NO MATTER WHAT!  Damn.  This spot was perfect.  Being so far behind was a real problem though.  So, after hmm-hawing around, back paddling waiting for Mike and Rob, then they don't wanna make the call either...  Sigh.  At this point we just move on.  

Looking back on the trip I honestly don't have many  regrets.  This was one of them.  Lesson to any who would follow us.  Trade 40 minutes of being "behind schedule" for a nice camping spot.  Every time. 

Seth and I forge ahead, both cursing our inability to make a decision and frequently looking at our watches hoping for 4pm.  "I'm sure that we will see A LOT of good sites a little down river" we say, "No one wants to set up camp that early in the day anyway" we scoff.  Camp Perfect.  Damn.

We start zig zagging bank to bank checking out potential spots.  Nothing is measuring up to what we passed but honestly I don't know how much further we could go.  Morale was low.  Finally we see and island that has decent access and a fairly flat looking large area to set up  tents and get the boats on dry land.  The water level can and will raise over night when they let higher volumes of water out of Kinzu dam... so long canoes if you left them in the river.

We all move in a silent efficiency.  Boats out of the water. start surveying to pick best spot for tents yadda yadda yadda.  Then one of us (I think it was me, but it really is a little blurry at this point) notice a trail of sorts.   It leads off, under a fallen tree that is approximately the perfect height to smash you square in the forehead, to a possible good bathroom spot maybe? 

LEFT TO RIGHT: Me, Seth, Rob, Mike and Greg.  Notice the Concussion Tree in the background.

Nope.  It lead to a sweet campground!  Fire ring and everything!  So after lugging gear a little bit further inland and about 56 forehead smashes later. We do a rather impressive job of getting a campsite up and running.  Fire lit and blazing (road flares are AWESOME) tents up, wet gear hung out and (kind of) drying.  Not too bad at all!

Earlier when I started to document this whole process I had determined that the safe money was going to be on Mark.  He would be in his element out here.  Well, I was right.  As we were dragging logs and setting up tents and getting the fire going, Mark was making dinner.  I was not expecting much.  I was prepared for soggy cold PB&J type deals but not Mark, no no.  Ol' Cookie Carlson was gonna eat well and we all benefited from that.  

"Yinz better get over here and eat!  I'm not waiting for you dumb shits!  $%##@*&!"






    LEFT TO RIGHT: Greg, Mike, Me, Seth and Rob

Don't say it... Don't say it!

At this point we were approximately 16 minutes and 400 yards into our journey with only 5,700 minutes and 193,200 yards to go!  Our situation was already dire.  Cold.  Crazy cold.  One boat already capsized, two others had taken on water in rescue efforts.  Two members of the party (honestly it wasn't much of a party at this point!) have already been completely submerged and the other four had gotten a decent soaking, again during the rescue.  Things have really went exactly  the opposite as all of us had hoped.   

The first thing to take care of was obvious:  Are you alright???  After that was determined and the guys got dried off (Giving the Hospital Smokers a little show in the process.)   The next order of business was: What the hell happened???  How could you dump your canoe already???  Wait... What?  Neither of you have been in a canoe before?  Really?  Oh.  I thought you were kidding... 

I really think that if anyone would have mentioned quitting, we would have.  So many things were already NOT they way it was planned and it did not appear to be getting better.  Then add the safety issue of two first timers.  Shit.  No one said it.  All of us exchanged looks trying to read each other.  "Do you want to quit?"  "Should we quit?" "What should we do?"  "What would our Dad's have done?"  No one said it.  We gritted our teeth, got back in the boats and rowed.  All of us silently figured that was the best way to stay warm anyway.  

Mark and Greg were in the BrewCanoe now.  Still pulling the inflatable beer cooler.  I have a keen eye and am pretty darn observant.  I picked up the subtle clues Mark was dropping expressing, subconsciously, his displeasure with having to tow a beer cooler.

"You know, if you didn't have this mother @*%$#!@$ boat anchor dragging behind you this %$$-ing canoe might even pick up some speed and maybe you @#$%-ers wouldn't have *&^%-ing *&^%-ed and *&^% in the water.  *&^%!"  Or something like that.  Like I said... very subtle.

Now we are actually making headway though.  We are clicking off the miles and feeling pretty good, aside from a few personal setbacks: losing the feeling in my toes...  Actually it was my feet...And my finger tips... and I couldn't stop chattering my teeth.  We all kind of dealt with our issues quietly.  I think we were too afraid to share how miserable we each were for fear of a doubt avalanche.  That and the misery pissing contest that would ensue.  "You think you're cold??  You should feel my..." You get the point and we didn't need that.  It was already bad enough!  

So, when you are silently rowing along, your mind wanders.  In a good way.  In a way you can't do driving or at the mall or any of the million other things the bombard us in our modern lives.  It's a good thing.  I don't know what the other guys were thinking but I was running all the gear I had with me through my head trying to determine if I could wear all of the clothes I brought at the same time.  Then I did my best to think of what I thought the symptoms of hypothermia were.  I would look at my toes and actually say "move" and try so hard to get them to move... damn it.  Toes no move.  This trip keeps getting better and better!

So I ask Seth what he thinks the symptoms might be and he also doesn't know but is pretty sure he has a bunch of them.  

Now, I would like to add that at this point it had quit snowing.  So we had that going for us.  Our boat, Greenie, had about 2 inches of water in the bottom and was doing nothing to help out with the "hypothermia" problem.  I say "Let's find an easy spot to pull over and bail this water out and check a map to see where we are."  It's agreed and Seth begins crafting a bailing tool out of a water bottle and I tell Mike and Rob, who were about a hundred feet or so behind us, what we are up to and to keep going.  With our outrageous speed we would catch them in no time.  And, if we took longer than expected we might even see Mark and Greg, who were no longer in sight. 

You know that ouchy, tingly feeling when your foot falls asleep and you try to walk...  multiply that by about 100 when you take  numb, freezing feet plunge them into 35 degree water with a rocky bottom and slick footing while trying to drag a slightly overloaded canoe.  Yee.  Haw.    

So we start to bailing.  First thing I notice is how nice it was to stand up.  Back was already starting to fatigue... sweet.  Feet started to get feeling back, that's good.  Even with trembling hands Seth made a nice cut on the water bottle bailer, that's good too!  And we found that a pair of boxers does a decent job of mopping up the bottom of the boat.  The boat was dry... that's great!  Holy cow!  This trip is turning around.  Finally...

With eyes full of newfound hope I say, "So where are we?"  We had been rowing about 5 hrs at this point, so by our calculations we should be somewhere around 18 miles down river.  Considering our difficult start, that wasn't too bad.  Remember, we need to average 30 miles per day and we were expecting a big first day due to excitement and being fresh.

With a furrowed brow and flipping pages Seth replies, "Hmmm... I think Mike has a map too.  I think we should cross reference where we are... Maybe I missed a bridge... or something."  

"Seth.  Just tell me."

"6 miles.  We have only covered 6 effing miles."

Leaving from Greg's house 7:04 a.m. 33 degrees.
(From left to right)
Mike, Rob, Patrick, Greg, Mark, Seth