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