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Why race canoes?

Glenn MacGrady

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What is, was, or would be your motivations for engaging in canoe racing? Any type of canoe racing—marathon, adventure, endurance, river, outrigger, ocean, even whitewater. Solo? Tandem? War or dragon canoe?

What benefits do you get out of racing? Physically? Technique-wise? Mentally? Socially?

Explain the attractions and even compulsions of canoe racing to canoeists who have not participated in it.
 
I've always said that, if you have two males on bicycles, you have a race.
It's in our DNA. I think it's normal to want to test yourself against the other guy.
I, personally, don't race. If I was ever capable of being competitive, that time is long gone.
There really isn't much racing, to speak of, in my area.
But I look to racers for tips on training and efficiency, just like a cyclist would look to Tour de France riders.
 
For me it started out as a challenge to do the Texas Water Safari. Then I needed something to keep me in shape and canoeing is a lot less impacting on the body than running. Found that the hours spent on the water also helped on the mental side of things after work to decompress when there is a lot going on. I'm not fast, not going to win anything. Just like getting out and putting in a good effort and helping introduce new folks to canoe racing. And you will meet a lot of new friends.
 
Money !
All though we raced mostly for trophies, and medals, on one occasion my boys and I raced, and brought home $80.
Fun is the other real reason !

It was time the boys, and I could participate together, as a team. Of course Dad had built all these canoes ! Ha !

Jim
 
I raced a bit back in the early 80s. There were 6 of us, all good friends, that competed together and developed some local races. The racing and training was a lot of things to me--effort, challenge, comradery/partnership, canoeing itself, efficiency of motion. Although I usually paddled stern, as I had some whitewater background and we did some rough open-water races, I loved paddling bow. Paddling bow to me is a lot like performance bicycle road riding, specifically time-trialing. Your existence is narrowed down to a bubble with a minimum of components controlled by your mind. Your mind, based on training, tells you what effort you can maintain, and its a constant back and forth between "harder", "back off", and "yeah", with the prize being feeling correct in all your assessments (as well as a trophy!). There's nothing like paddling bow where the boat is a knife in the water, the water flying past you with barely a ripple at a speed you feel is wondrous, with the only distraction an occasional "hut", the stern paddler telling you to switch sides. The switching sides is almost as fluid as your next stroke.

Racing solo, it's just all you (and either catching up to, or staying in front of, your competition). Unfortunately, there's a lot more going on than hearing a "hut".
 
In general, I have found that competition is the fastest way to ruin a lot of hobbies and interests.
I have never formally raced canoes, but I have an OT Candienne. Owners of these boats have been quoted often saying "No one has ever passed me on a river."

I like the old story of Verlen Kruger and Clint Wadell on their cross Canada paddling odyssey. They planned to stop in Flin Flan, Manitoba for the big canoe races. Verlen and Clint were in great shape paddling some 100 miles days in their handmade 20 cedar canoe. They went up against a group of Natives that grew up with paddles in their hands. The boys got smoked in every race they entered.
 
Ha ha, I have no idea why anyone would want to rush through this world, a frosty February loppet, a cross-country run thru the autumn woods, a challenging paddle route. But I know there's an adrenaline rush that goes with the drive to match stamina with power, coordination with skills. I've never been an athlete but do remember the thrill of pitting myself against others, a course, the clock, or myself. Everyday I had to get out and get going. One year, I suddenly noticed that somewhere, sometime, something snapped, and I found myself without any competitive desire whatsoever.
I have no idea what happened, but that spark hasn't returned, and I haven't really missed it. However, I do understand that some still feel it. For a few short years I kept trying to get it back through team and individual sports, but it was long gone. And for good.
I have to admit to being like one of those "reformed" smokers who've quit, and then spend their days complaining about second-hand smoke. Ha. Actually, I usually just stand quietly and inhale. Same with previously having been a driver with a lead foot. Now I live in the slow lane. Watching sports soon bores me, unless I'm relaxing with a coffee watching the grandkids. But that's another story. When I see the words canoes and race together in the same sentence, it get my hackles up, just like cigarettes, impatient drivers, and sweaty speed demons, but eventually rationalize that they all have the incurable competitive bug I once enjoyed suffering from. Ha. It's all good. Have fun. Play safe.
 
A friend of mine since childhood started building woodstrip canoes when he was in high school, and continues to this day, more than 50 years later as a source of his primary income. He has raced (and won) the Adirondack 90 mile canoe classic several times. I live and work(ed) not far from the race route. Friends of mine at work who were white water kayakers and flat water canoers, we are all engineers, decided to have Pat build a woodstrip "war canoe" canoe (common name later changed to "voyageur canoe") to race in the '90" and wanted to know if I would like to be a partner in the project. I accepted and for some reason as the oldest, ended up as bow paddler. We did well, winning first place the first 2-3 years and regularly placed 2nd or 3rd after that when younger competition showed up. And I loved it.

My wife, not a physically competitive soul herself, participated by being our "pit crew" along with parents of the younger team members, driving our transport truck and setting up camp at the designated race campgrounds each night while we raced.

The 90 miler race director was one of the originating leaders of an Adirondack BSA trek guide leadership program, along with NYSDEC Forest Rangers to develop and run an annual 8 day program, largely based on LNT, to train adults (typically, but not all college age) to work summers at Adirondack BSA camps leading week long high adventure canoe and backpack wilderness treks. I was invited early on to be one of the permanent program instructor staff, specializing in canoeing, backcountry land navigation, and camp meals (home dehydrated and commercially prepared). I've done so every year for the past 30 years.

So began my race and canoe tripping career. A few years into it, eventually my younger voyageur team members moved on, leaving me to continue paddling solo or C2 in the 90 and other area races for a few years. At one of those I encountered a fellow voyageur canoe racer and GRB woodstrip boat owner who we had raced against several times. Known to my team only as "straw hat guy" (SHG), because he always wore an Amish style straw hat while paddling from the stern of his voyageur. Although not Amish himself, he lives deep within northern NY Amish country. He had raced in the 440 mile Yukon River Quest the previous year (2007) and was looking to build a crew to go back the next summer. I was invited to join, but of course would have to check with my family first! With very little convincing my wife agreed and joined us with her pit crew duties in the Yukon Territory.

"Straw Hat Guy" does not fly, so it was perfect that he drive his voyageur to Whitehorse. As the navigation expert, I set forth for months to study the river maps and historic resources to develop the best and fastest route on the YRQ race. With that we finished fourth out of 100 race starters, only behind fast sea kayaks.

It was announced in 2008 that in 2009 there would be the first ever Yukon 1000 mile race. The same team was roaring to go. More months of river study on my part in the navigation complexities of the Yukon Flats among hundreds of islands and gravel shoals, based on my recently gained YRQ experience. I came up with nearly 800 GPS waypoints to carve us around obstacles and river bends while remaining in the average highest average 6mph current. I also home dehydrated all of the main breakfast and dinner meals for the entire team. One quirky race rule requirement for that year only was to have onboard 20 Kg (that's 44 pounds!) of food for each paddler (water weight to rehydrate not included -do the math for 6-7 paddlers), planned for potentially 2 weeks of race plus one week of emergency backup on the river. In the end we only ate 1/4 of the total I had prepared during our six day race to the finish and no one went hungry or lost weight.

Our 90 miler race director friend was also planning to paddle a C2 in this race. we found him at the river bank team meeting, chatting on the phone with his partner who was still back home in NY in emergency surgery. We were not about to leave Brian stranded there alone. As it happens, a very large carbon fiber voyageur canoe from Texas was available for rent so we spent a day cleaning and reconfiguring it for our now 7 paddlers. A bit over six days after race start we finished in second place about an hour behind a tandem sea kayak (our encounter with them on the river is another long and nasty story), but technically we finished in first place due to the accumulation of 9 hours of race rules penalty violations by the paddlers of that kayak.

My team took a break from the Yukon in 2010, while the same SHG owned GRB built voyageur woodstrip canoe was rented by another NY team to race the Y1K. I was recruited to join in with that team, being offered an all expense paid trip for all to the Yukon paid by one well to do esoteric eccentric team member, but after seeing how one practice training event was run, I decided I did not like the dynamics of that team, so I declined to join, which was proven out as a wise decision during their poor performance in their actual Y1K race. i may have killed one of them if I had gone.

With the majority of my original team, a partial new team was formed and trained for a return to the Y1K in 2011. I spent more time revising and renewing my older GPS route, based on what I had learned from earlier direct experience, and from SPOT online tracking of other fastest teams in previous years. We finished top of our class in that race as well.

Although I much prefer the 1000 mileY1K race over the YRQ (veterans of the 1000 mile Y1K get to call the much shorter 440 mile YRQ "the sprint"), there is so much more involved in coordination and $$$ with the Y1K that we decided to do the YRQ again in 2013 and again in 2017, paddling in the first ever allowed C4 canoe class in that race. At age 71, I say I am not finished with the Yukon quite yet, but my wife has other thoughts on the matter :( . Meanwhile, this past season I completed my 25th consecutive 90 miler canoe race, and continue with other annual regional races.

I credit paddle training and canoe racing and the desire to get outdoors and to do well and to instruct with my continued good health at my now advancing age. I am also a senior Search and Rescue certified crew boss and SAR instructor with the NY State Federation of SAR Teams and still participate in deep woods backcountry search incident efforts. I recently certified in state training in swift/flood water and ice water rescue, and was thankful to be able to easily keep up with my much younger classmates.
 
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Much like Odyssey, I lost my competitive desires quite a while ago, but I can precisely recall the reason.
In my younger days I was extremely competitive, boxing, wrestling, soccer, cycling to an extreme. Honestly, I was a Dick.
One April 1st, I was struck by a truck as I bicycled home from work. My injuries were life altering, I was never again the same man but that wasn’t a bad thing.
I became a better man, and a worse athlete.

With all that said, I have been in only one canoe race.
I have crewed in some sailboat races.
In both cases, there were too many of the old me out there, heck bent to beat anyone near them, even though it really didn’t matter.
I do appreciate the innovation and design improvements that evolve from racing, whether canoe, sailboat or bicycle.
At this stage in life, I have nothing left to prove to myself, so I’m strictly recreational in all of my endeavors now.
 
Back to my too long story.... around the fall of 2012 I slipped off from a one story metal camp roof as I was painting it, slid down after apparently stepping on a drop of asphalt-aluminum paint while still holding on to a half 5 gallon pail of the stuff. I had recently dismantled a concrete block chimney, and as luck would have it, the debris pile random jumble of concrete chunks is what I first noticed on my way down through thin air directly under me. I resolved to do my best version of a parachute landing fall landing and roll, all while wondering "how many bones would I break?". To my great surprise I stood up and had no apparent injuries at all. But I looked like the Wizard of Oz "tin man" with aluminized paint completely covering me head to toe. My brother helped me clean up with a rag and a liberal amount of gasoline.

Injury #1: I was fine until the next day when I could not raise my right arm above the level of my chin. A visit to a sports orthopedic surgeon with X-rays, CT scans and an MRI later showed a severe tear of my rotator cuff. The doc recommended surgery as the only certain fix. But I have known other paddlers who have had that surgery and seen how long they had one arm immobilized, fixed in a sling to their stomach area. I asked the doc, and he confirmed the expected 3 month recovery period that I feared. But, but, I was committed with my team to return to another Yukon race in a few months, and I had hundreds of miles of paddle training to get done before that. The doc said he could pinpoint inject cortizone into the exact trouble spot and we would see what happens after that. That injection gave me immediate relief and the ability to train with care at first on the water and on a canoe paddling machine over the winter months. Two months before departure to the Yukon the cortizone began to wear off, so I asked for and received another injection into the same spot to get me through the race. Specific exercises I learned from a physical therapist's expensive lessons that I could then do at home seemed to complete my recovery. That got me to and through final training and the Yukon and other races that summer with only minimal pain memory in my shoulder at certain times. Since then I have not had any other problems while paddling or cross country skiing with my arm, and I credit marathon paddle training and racing to what today appears to be a complete recovery from that original painful rotator cuff tear.

Injury #2. I was due to return to the Yukon races in the early summer of 2017 and was looking forward to training and preparation for that beginning in the fall of 2016. However, in August of 2016, at age 65, I suffered what appeared to be a stroke, a day after I had done a very aggressive mountain bike backcountry hill climb ride. I had all the usual symptoms, unable to move my arm on one side (the other side from my rotator cuff injury), my face drooped on one side, and my speech slurred. I was quickly rushed to a nearby stroke treatment center and was diagnosed with a having a TMI mini-stroke, likely caused by a Patent Foramen Ovale (PFO), a hole between the upper two chambers of the heart, allowing a small amount of blood to go the wrong way. Normally, this hole is present while growing in mom's womb, but sometimes fails to close with a flap in 26% of all people as it normally should close just after birth. It does not usually cause any major problems in most people, but, not being most people, I must have thrown a blood clot during my aggressive bike ride that went the wrong way and lodged in my brain, causing the TMI.

Luckily, two of my Yukon paddle partners, a husband and wife, came to my rescue. The wife was a PA assistant to a pioneering cardiac surgeon, and the husband was the hospital's surgical suite coordinator. So they recognized the PFO and said that the surgeon they worked for repairs those PFOs surgically and does it remotely without cracking the sternum to open the chest as other surgeons normally did. With little pressure I was scheduled for surgery two months later. It was done with a probe through my side into my heart to repair the hole by stitching the hole flap rather than with a device that others used. What other surgeons woold have done requiring a 6 month recovery, this surgeon had me recovered and paddle training in less than 6 weeks. Back to the Yukon in June, paddling hard, finishing well. I have no lasting or other symptoms from that experience.
 
I got into racing because I liked paddling hard. I was in my late-20's when I got into paddling seriously and it felt good to go hard. I wanted to test myself against others and quickly realized, once I got around some real racers, that I wasn't nearly as hot as I thought I was. I also found they were a very kind and generous group of people. They were happy to help and attitudes were few and far between.

There is a lot of variety in the racing scene. There are some who paddle only for racing and fitness and there are others who trip and paddle for enjoyment as well. At least in the upper midwest the scene is not dominated by young males full of testosterone. I'd guess the average age was around 40 and there were a lot of paddlers racing into their 60's and 70's. Not only that but I, and many other young paddlers, would regularly get our butt's whipped by 50+ year old women who looked like, and actually were, school teachers. When it comes to racing experience is more important than pure strength. Other than a few young savants the best paddlers were the older paddlers.

I remember one race in particular where two guys around 30 years old that looked like they lived in a gym got beat by a mixed team (one male and one female) who were both in their late 40's/early 50's and whose physiques wouldn't draw a second look. The young guys were pretty new to the sport and after the race they asked the other team how they were able to pull away from them in the shallow water. The elder team explained their technique and then both teams took their boats back on the water so they could demonstrate it in person.

For me personally I've never been able to enjoy running and, although I thought of getting into cycling, I was happiest on the water. It was really the first time in my life I understood what people meant by a "runner's high" and it's a great feeling. Fitness paddling helped me get in really good shape and it taught me a lot of paddling skills that transferred very well to canoe tripping, especially when trying to paddle up rapids and swifts.

Paddling for fitness and paddling for enjoyment are not mutually exclusive. As you turn into a more efficient paddler you're able to move your canoe faster while extending the same, or even less, effort. As I got to be a better racer my "relaxed" pace got faster but my eyes and brain were still free to wander wherever they desired. All of my tripping days will have a mix of lolly-gagging and hard paddling and everything in between depending on the situation and how I feel at that moment. It's good to be diverse.

It's been a long time since I've done any racing and I'm not much into fitness paddling anymore either but I still do enjoy paddling efficiently and it's nice to be able to have the ability to go hard when needed. I can still get a bit of that endorphine rush that no other activity has given me.

Alan
 
I got into racing because I liked paddling hard. I was in my late-20's when I got into paddling seriously and it felt good to go hard. I wanted to test myself against others and quickly realized, once I got around some real racers, that I wasn't nearly as hot as I thought I was. I also found they were a very kind and generous group of people. They were happy to help and attitudes were few and far between.

There is a lot of variety in the racing scene. There are some who paddle only for racing and fitness and there are others who trip and paddle for enjoyment as well. At least in the upper midwest the scene is not dominated by young males full of testosterone. I'd guess the average age was around 40 and there were a lot of paddlers racing into their 60's and 70's. Not only that but I, and many other young paddlers, would regularly get our butt's whipped by 50+ year old women who looked like, and actually were, school teachers. When it comes to racing experience is more important than pure strength. Other than a few young savants the best paddlers were the older paddlers.

I remember one race in particular where two guys around 30 years old that looked like they lived in a gym got beat by a mixed team (one male and one female) who were both in their late 40's/early 50's and whose physiques wouldn't draw a second look. The young guys were pretty new to the sport and after the race they asked the other team how they were able to pull away from them in the shallow water. The elder team explained their technique and then both teams took their boats back on the water so they could demonstrate it in person.

For me personally I've never been able to enjoy running and, although I thought of getting into cycling, I was happiest on the water. It was really the first time in my life I understood what people meant by a "runner's high" and it's a great feeling. Fitness paddling helped me get in really good shape and it taught me a lot of paddling skills that transferred very well to canoe tripping, especially when trying to paddle up rapids and swifts.

Paddling for fitness and paddling for enjoyment are not mutually exclusive. As you turn into a more efficient paddler you're able to move your canoe faster while extending the same, or even less, effort. As I got to be a better racer my "relaxed" pace got faster but my eyes and brain were still free to wander wherever they desired. All of my tripping days will have a mix of lolly-gagging and hard paddling and everything in between depending on the situation and how I feel at that moment. It's good to be diverse.

It's been a long time since I've done any racing and I'm not much into fitness paddling anymore either but I still do enjoy paddling efficiently and it's nice to be able to have the ability to go hard when needed. I can still get a bit of that endorphine rush that no other activity has given me.

Alan
The story reminds me of the one Betty Ketter retold.
Her family was really into the racing scene on the Mississippi , in Minnesota.
 
A bunch of people have asked me why I don't hike the Pacific Crest Trail. Because "it would take me about 6 years to stop and look at everything. " I love everything about forests except for walking fast through them. The same with paddling fast on rivers and lakes.
 
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A bunch of people have asked me why I don't hike the Pacific Crest Trail. Because "it would take me about 6 years to stop and look at everything. " I love everything about forests except for walking fast through them. The same with rivers and lakes.
The thing I lke most about canoe racing in new venues is traveling to and paddling through new breautiful territory. The Yukon races blow me away for that very reason. What a spectacular place to visit, as well as the entire journey to get there. It is unfortunate that being in race mode does not allow more than a very brief appreciation of the wonder. I actually created a video slide show, set to epic style music as a rememberance to my team of our many spectacular brief experiences. While my team and I have taken many awe inspiring photos during five race trips down the river, I often think of how much I would love to take a much more leisurely float through photographing in detail much of what I otherwise only breeze through.

For example, there is a ten mile riverside segment near Fort Selkirk (itself worth a lingering stay), where the river cuts along a cliff of broken vertical basalt rock. True of many unique individual sights along the river bank, here especially, the mind plays tricks by combining sightings of darker or different colored spots in the rock face as images looking like eyes, nose and mouth and full faces, Many realistic or cartoonish. My team and I enjoyed pointing out various "faces of the Yukon" as we called it. I even spotted a complete 20 foot high profile of Albert Einstein, complete with wing tip shoes, in one rock scene. Elsewhere, eroded "hoodoos" and talus slopes often take on the imagery of bearded voyageur canoers of old, wearing their iconic knit toque headwear. Such hallucinations come easy after days of constant paddling with little or no sleep. Later, in a Dawson City art shop, we discovered a local artist had painted just such a scene of faces of the Yukon. Of course I had to purchase a copy. I miss much by paddling through at maximum speed. On the other hand, without the draw of the race, I otherwise would never have experienced any of it. Why do you suppose I have returned five times (so far)?

Faces of the yukon:
1672662527194.png
 
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I recently came across some info on the rules for paddling in a six man outrigger canoe. There were a couple rules that stuck with me. First one was, NO TALKING, only the steersman can talk, with one exception. The bowman and the #2 position can discuss cadence. The other one that stuck with me was, NO SIGHTSEEING. It sounds harsh, but it makes sense. Looking around could break your concentration. Hawaiians take canoeing pretty seriously.
 
Al, I noticed that level of discipline when I was a guest paddler with a dragon boat team one time. I have an interesting story on how that came about. I was on a business trip to Australia's Dept of Defense in Canberra, when I took an early morning jog from my hotel through the park near Parliament when a truck hauling a very large hot air balloon along with a dozen tourist passengers pulled up next to me. My brother years earlier was an early modern hot air balloon pilot and racer, so I knew something about how to prepare a balloon for flight. After meeting and chatting with the pilot and assisting with preparations to inflate, he invited me to climb aboard for the tourist flight over the city for a free ride.

On the waterway far below, I noticed a couple of what to me looked like voyageur canoes that appeared to be paddling in strong training mode. Later that afternoon I headed to the beach where I saw them land behind my hotel. There I met the head coach of the Australian National Dragon Boat Team. I told him that I had recently returned from paddling in the Yukon, and that I have long race paddled voyageur canoes. So guess what.... he invited me to paddle in an available seat during one of the training runs as they prepared for an upcoming major race against other SE Asia teams. What struck me most was the formality and precision of the team, with very precise instructions and activity. "paddles up"... "Paddles in", "stroke" in a very strict military manner. There was no other conversation. I had a great time, but, unlike my normal voyageur canoe training I was accustomed to, they only paddle by sprints for a couple thousand meters at a time, no long distance marathon cruises.

To complete the exciting day, I returned after hours to the Parliament area, poked my head into the still open security access door, where I was invited and guided to visit two separate houses of Parliament meetings in session, which proved to be interesting but ultimately rather boring.
 
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A bunch of people have asked me why I don't hike the Pacific Crest Trail. Because "it would take me about 6 years to stop and look at everything. " I love everything about forests except for walking fast through them. The same with rivers and lakes.
The best trails in the Cascades were not the PCT. There was a lifetime of much better hiking to do there without getting on that overused highway. The few times I saw the PCT, I was impressed that it was jeep trail wide...that's a lot of people that can't stay on a trail.
 
The PCT is best used as access and then leaving it and going somewhere else. It is 35 minutes from house. I like to talk with the through hikers who come through in July. Half of them barely say "Hello." Some stop and chat.
 
I recently came across some info on the rules for paddling in a six man outrigger canoe. There were a couple rules that stuck with me. First one was, NO TALKING, only the steersman can talk, with one exception. The bowman and the #2 position can discuss cadence. The other one that stuck with me was, NO SIGHTSEEING. It sounds harsh, but it makes sense. Looking around could break your concentration. Hawaiians take canoeing pretty seriously.
Why I hate racing. I was on a guided fishing trip once in Oregon. It was winter, dark and wet and we were chasing steelhead in open drift boats. Someone else planned the trip. Our guide started in with the "stop looking at the scenery" speech. I told him "if I am paying you then you get to deal with my looking around. " We did not get along at all. I cannot stand a lot of rules in the outdoors. I have always gone out there for the freedom and lack of rules. I don't pull permits and don't camp in designated places.
 
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