Somerset Reservoir
5/7 Mandatories
1/6 Optionals
Pulling in to TA 4 was a relief. We had just finished one heck of a bike stage and we were ready to sit on our butts both in the TA and in the packrafts on the upcoming leg of the race. After getting the scoop on the logistics of the TA from a crew of familiar faces, we found our bike boxes and pulled them to the back edge of the parking lot. The sun was absolutely scorching in the afternoon sky and there was really no shade to be had in the clearing. Looking around, many other teams were feeling the heat of the day. One guy had constructed a literal loin cloth out of t-shirts and twine and was Tarzan-ing it while he went through his tasks. Becky and I both couldn't help but admire his ingenuity.
I can not in any way claim to be an organized transition-er. Within minutes it looked like both my pack and bike box had thrown up all their contents in a 5 foot radius around me. Becky and Dan were both far less ADHD-like in their motions. I inhaled another homemade cold soak oatmeal and sat on the matt I had brilliantly stored in my bike box. As we went through the steps of breaking down our bikes and preparing for the next leg of the race we took turns literally hiding under the flaps of our bike boxes for the tiniest bit of shade.
Becky and I were flitting around like busy bees while Dan was perched near his box. Over the roughly hour we were there he did not move much from that one spot and repeatedly asked Becky and me to pass him things and grab items for him. The image of Jabba the Hutt and princess Leia came to mind, but I had to push it out before I let it fester in my thoughts. I located our paddle and packraft bags and hauled them over to our spot. We began the process of strapping packrafts and paddles to our packs.
The plan was for Becky and Dan to share the two person packraft and I was going to paddle solo in the one person raft. It made sense for me to carry my assigned raft, but I was slightly surprised that Becky was going to haul the larger 2 person raft as well as her paddle. Dan was only planning to carry our PFDs. That didn't seem fair to me, so I piped up stating as much. He returned a quick "yea, but I'm also carrying the pumps and other gear." I didn't recall the size of the pump, and couldn't think of what the other gear was that he eluded to, but Becky seemed fine with the set up, so I went with it.
As we completed all our tasks at the TA, it was time to return the bike boxes and bags to the Uhaul. Becky and I began by double carrying our 2 boxes and placed them in the truck. We returned to see Dan still resting with eyes closed on the ground. We collected his box and placed it on the truck next to ours. When we returned to Dan, he was still seated on the ground. I'm assuming we made some sort of comment or gesture to encourage him to help a little, and he assisted in carrying one of the bags.
We checked out of the TA and began the hike down to a campground on a peninsula that separated us from the Somerset Reservoir. The initial portion of the walk was downhill, so I didn't think we needed to go too terribly slow. However, 3 times Dan asked that we slow our pace. His hip was really starting to ache from its abuse on the bike with the bike seat issues. We paused so he could take some NSAIDs and stretch. There was palpable tension in the team. I'm terrible at confrontation and will consistently avoid talking in favor of stewing and passive aggressiveness. I have confessed to having many faults. Becky is a better person than I, and breeched the tension. She let Dan know we felt like he was using us too much at the TAs as maids and that it was frustrating. He promised not to ask for any more assistance while we were busy doing our own transitioning. I don't know if the conversation cleared the air, but I was happy to have that standard acknowledged.
We continued on and came to a small loop of campsites. The signs pointed to multiple amenities within the campground, and we headed south toward the "West Trail." We came upon two middle aged gentlemen who were interested in our plans with such large packs, rafts, and paddles strapped to us. We explained AR and packrafting as concisely as possible and satisfied their curiosity.
The trails were perfectly maintained... until they weren't. Like at all. Our easy stroll dropped us out into a large open area of wooded devastation. A huge and chaotic logging field without any semblance of trail lay before us. There was a slight clearing in the carnage of trees to our left, so we began to head that way. Before long, we started to second guess our route. Another team came along and looked equally aghast at the obviously unexpected sight.
Looking at the map, I noted that there was a high point off the "trail" to the left and CP 50 was located on a further off high point to the south. Why not head to the highest point I could see, shoot a bearing to the next high point and follow my compass? The scale on the map was 1:24000, so the points couldn't be too far apart, right? While Becky and Dan discussed options with the other team, I started following a bearing through the thick of the fallen and semi-demolished trees. As I scurried over, under, and around the chaotic clearing, Becky and Dan began to form a plan totally separate from what I was working on. As I made my way to the far side of the clearing they began to call for me to return to them. I didn't see any obvious high ground through the woods as I had expected to in my optimism of my plan, so I scurried back to them as fast as I could through the dense destruction.
They had talked with a few other teams who had all passed by in my absence. The general consensus was that we needed to follow the slight "path" through all the fallen trees and into another clearing of sorts. We began fording the route behind a few other teams. There were obstacles everywhere. Fallen and broken trees, bogs of sloppy mud, and uneven ground everywhere. Dan had a respectable tumble at one point, but righted himself and continued on. Ahead of us there was a cackle of teams all bouncing ideas off each other on what the best plan of attack would be. Half seemed to decided on continuing on while the other half came trudging back toward us with the intention to return to the last bit of obvious trail and try a totally different direction. We were at an impasse. Neither option seemed good. I suggested we continue on the bearing that I had started following. I had eyed an obvious point on the wood line when they had called me back that we could pick up from. Becky hesitantly agreed, and Dan just resolved himself to misery no matter what option we went with.
We clambered our way back to my heading and bushwhacked into the untouched woods for a few meters before another wide open area of sloppily timbered land lay before us. I have to admit, I was loosing confidence in my plan at this time. While I knew the scale of this map was much more zoomed in that our last leg, I didn't think there should have been this much distance between the two high grounds. Still, what other options did we have? Becky called out an idea to simply go west from our current location, hope we hit the distant section of the West trail we had wondered from, give up on CP 50, and hit the reservoir in the western side of the peninsula we were trekking down. It was possible, certainly, and I'm not sure why we didn't go with that plan, but we ended up deciding to keep going with my heading.
We made our way through that next "clearing" and back into the woods where it was blessedly easier to trek. Through a series of different plans of attack, Becky and I unexpectantly stumbled upon an obvious trail. After confirming the headings on the trail, we discovered we had picked back up on the original section of the West Trail we had been following before the logging field debacles! Having left Dan at a random rock in the woods, we knew we couldn't wonder too far off. We started jogging down this path, hoping it would come to a T and CP 50 would be clearly located in front of us. Nope. The trail died off and we began peering through the woods for any sign of correlation with what we saw on the map. We did find an obvious "high ground, rocks" which was the clue for CP 50, but no CP 50. Another team came storming through. Becky asked for their opinion on where we were, and one of the members began to interact with us, but the obvious leader of their crew voiced his displeasure at giving away any help, and they continued on without conferring further with us. Sheesh. Someone is taking this a little too seriously.
Without a clear idea of exactly where we were, and having departed a little further from Dan than we should have, we returned to the trail and eventually made our way back to Dan, who was still happily sitting on that rock in the middle of the woods. However, in our absence, he had taken the initiative and really focused on the map. He pointed out where he was nearly certain we were located, and in combination of the land feature we had just seen, Becky was nearly 100% confident she knew where we were and how to get to CP 50. We bushwhacked back to the trail and continued on due south where the trail died off. As we climbed through the brush, we upset a momma bird who squawked and flapped aggressively as she flew off in an attempt to distract us from her nest. No worries momma bird, we're not after your babies, and that heart attack you nearly caused us was totally unnecessary.
After a few hundred meters I quite literally stumbled upon another trail, this one with obvious blue blazes painted every so often on trees. It didn't make any sense to me, but it made Becky super excited and assured that we were dang close to CP 50. She instructed me to maintain a heading due south and that we would find the CP within a minute or two of further bushwhacking. Sorcery. There it was. I don't know how we did it, but there it was. Becky congratulated me on the find, but I absolutely could not take credit for it, she was the real navigator on that one. She assured me it was my persistence that lead us to the site. I'm going to say it was a beautiful combination of our abilities that earned us that punch.
After returning to the trail and Dan, we chose to head due east toward the inlet of water that housed CP E1. Not that we were planning to really put an effort into finding that CP, but it was the closest spot where we could set off in our pack rafts. We made it down the dozens of feet of elevation and to the water's edge quickly enough and set to inflating our rafts. I made a comment about how conveniently light, and compact the pumps were.
My raft was inflated and ready well before Dan and Becky were ready to hop in their boat, so I loaded up my pack, aligned my paddle, and literally plopped into the raft and pushed off into the clear waters of the inlet. I paddled to the left, just incase the CP was easily spotted and punchable. There were multiple obviously trampled routes through the marshy depths of the inlet, none of which called to me. So rather than slop through the tall reeds and deep mud, I decided to simply float and enjoy a cinnamon brown sugar poptart. Banging. The snacks and food I consume on these races are awful, but MAN. I do enjoy them.
As I was floating along and munching on my sugary confection, my attention was drawn to something wafting in the early evening breeze. You gotta be kidding me. There, directly in my line of sight was CP E1. Well, why not? I paddled over to the water's edge, held my remaining poptart in my teeth, and climbed out and over to punch the single optional CP we had hit since Fort Ticonderoga. By the time I had returned to my packraft, Dan and Becky had themselves situated and paddling toward me. We set our sights on CP 51 and the open waters of the reservoir.
Coming around the bend in the inlet we could see the island that held our next goal. Dan paused in his paddling, asking for a moment to eat some food and rest. Since I had just consumed my high calorie snack and had a chance to rest while they tinkered, I was not in need of the break. With the sunlight behind the clouds quickly fading, I wanted to hit as many of the upcoming points along this paddle as we could before dark. I told them to take their time, and meet me at the island when they had finished their break.
I paddled strong to the island, hopped out and quickly spotted CP 51. Returning to my vessel, Dan and Becky had almost caught up with me. We had decided to only go for the eastern points along the reservoir, so I continued on to CP 53. I was thankful to be manning my own boat and maintained a small lead on Dan and Becky. While they chatted happily together, I paddled quickly and efficiently to the next 3 points. It was good for all of us. I needed a little time alone to push myself and they needed some time to just be friends and enjoy each other's company while comfortably paddling along at an easy pace. The sun was setting quickly, and by the time I punched CP56 it was completely dark out. I threw around the idea of shooting across the reservoir and hitting CP 55, but the pitch black night and lack of points of reference would have made it hard to home in directly to the point. We talked for a minute, floating in the darkness, trying to decide our plan. I had worn myself out a little from my aggressive paddling and was ready to hand off responsibility for our travel to them. I suggested they navigate to the TA and I would just follow behind.
We began our pitch-black paddling as the rain began to sprinkle. I wasn't sure if it was splashes from their paddles or actual rain so I called out "Is it raining?" Dan affirmed my suspicions. The cool of the night was settling in, so I knew it would be smart to stop and dawn my raincoat. I paused in my paddling, dug through my pack, and pulled out my raincoat. By the time I had my coat on, my pack repositioned, and my paddle in my hands, they had paddled off into the far distance. Well dang. I could only make out the tiny dots of their glow sticks. It was around this time that Becky later admitted she was actively hallucinating and unsure who had asked if it was raining and also unsure if she or anyone had responded. Sleep monsters are a wild and crazy thing.
I paddled hard trying to catch back up as the rain began to fall in earnest. It rained harder and harder as I paddled harder and harder. By the time I was within earshot of them we were in a torrential downpour with winds and waves increasing by the minute. I'm not a nervous nelly, but I was ready to be off that open water and in the safety of the TA.
We docked where all the headlamps and flashlights were throwing beacons of hope from. As we exited our boats the reality of the situation dawned on me. There was no sign of the rain abating, and we were literally drenched in the cold rain of the night. We pulled our packrafts up to the boat ramp where the TA was set up under two small pop up canopies. There wasn't nearly enough room for even one team to hide under their protection. How the heck were we going to get ourselves together for the upcoming bike leg, in the dark and stormy night?
One thing at a time. We checked in, asked if we were allowed to camp out at this TA, and I hatched a plan. Dan was obsessively fretting over Becky and her current state of shivering, to the point where Becky exclaimed, "Calm down! I'm fine!" I left the two of them to huddle under the second canopy where Bruce was saving lives heating up water for racers. I'm not being dramatic. I really think he did save a few people that cold evening by providing an unplanned treat of hot water for meals and drinks. I walked around the perimeter of the parking lot looking for an open and relatively flat spot where we could set up our tent. In the far corner I spotted the best option there was. I asked the team who was directly next to the site I was eyeing if they were cool with me setting up next to them. I immediately recognized the voices from B&Z. It elated me to see them again, even in their current stare of misery. Their individual Bivy tents and all their gear lay in puddles of cold mud. They were trying to salvage what they could under a makeshift tarp tent. I have to admit, their efforts appeared totally futile. But I had my own dilemma to deal with.
I returned to Dan and Becky and explained my plan. Two of us would hold up the tent fly while the third would construct the tent as carefully and dry as possible underneath. Once the tent was assembled, we would one by one, go under the vestibule, change out of our sopping wet clothes and into dry clean clothes before we entered the tent. No one would leave the shelter of the tent again until the rain stopped in an attempt to keep everything as clean and dry as possible within the confines of our tiny structure of reprieve. They agreed to the plan, and we headed over to the spot I had found. I have to admit, I may have become a slight bit drill sergeant-y in the hour that followed. But within a few minutes our tent was constructed, our gear was organized as it was going to get in the rain, and Becky began the process of changing into blessed dry clothes and entered the tent.
While they were going through the motions of shedding the cold wet shells and wrapping themselves in clean dry clothing, I went to the nearby creek and filled all our filter bottles, arranged the packrafts out of the way of other racers, and passed forgotten items under the vestibule. Finally it was my turn to get dry. Modesty is a difficult thing in just such a situation, but I tried my best to keep my backside and lady bits from flashing too blatantly to my teammates. Once I entered the tent, I was sufficiently warmed up and unwilling to try to squeegee into my leggings until the remaining moisture on my legs had a chance to evaporate.
We collectively began to calm down from the chaos of the situation, and eased into an enjoyable, albite cramped, evening in the tent together. There was no point in going back out into the rain until the skies cleared. While we were sitting dry and warm in our tent, we could hear other teams walking to and fro through the pouring rain, trying to figure out how the heck to get out of the TA. In the dark and rain, none of the trails on the map were making sense to teams. This just reaffirmed our decision to hunker down and get a good sleep while the rain rain rain came down down down.
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