When you kayak a long distance on your own, you inevitably have meandering thoughts about many things ranging from current muscular pain to family to why your bow wake is glowing like fluoro ribbons in the dark. On my recent paddle as the night grew late and I found myself paddling in the dark alone and in considerable pain, my thoughts grew crazier and a little scattery as the night progressed. Of course these were fed by some of the amazing things I saw during the night, such as the aforementioned luminescent algae creating glowing lines in my bow wake, or exploding in fluoro clouds as my paddle bit into the water. Or the sight of a paddler catching a ferry cable around the neck in the dark due to paddling too close to the shore. Or the vision of billions of stars stretched out like a milky ribbon across the sky in a display seldom seen in the light-sodden skies above Sydney.
So what did I think about during the more painful hours of my paddle? I thought alot about my family: my wife Bec and my two daughters Grace and Ella. I thought about my last car accident, and the pain I went through learning to walk again with a shattered pelvis. I thought about sharks occassionally, and the unlikelihood of there being any this far up the river. I thought alot about my support crew, actually worried about them and their safety driving through the night (had I known how much fun they were having I may not have had these particular thoughts!).
I thought about my paddle mate Ned, who had pulled out at the 30km mark with a raging nauseating migraine, and hoped he was feeling better. I thought about cutting my pants off with scissors to try to alleviate some of the pressure sores that were developing (it wouldn’t have helped). I thought about my Greenland Paddle and how lucky I was to have a paddle that could do different strokes, resting muscle groups when they badly needed it. I thought my future kayak adventures, and what I should aim to do next.
There were many dark thoughts too. I thought on a couple of occassions about pulling over to the side of the river and sleeping for the rest of the night until a rescue boat found me. I thought about simply pulling in at the next checkpoint and refusing to paddle anymore. I thought about taking all my remaining pain killers at once (I had taken a couple and had half a dozen left) to cut down on the pain. And on the odd occassion, I seriously thought about stopping and crying.
When I look back at the event now, I realise it is this level of hardship that really allows you to test your mental resolve. I honestly felt mentally weak on quite a few occassions out there in the dark, and yet somehow I managed to keep putting the paddle in the water enough to get me to the end (unlike many who pulled out). Whilst I’m in no real hurry to do something like this again any time soon, I can see why people become addicted to this type of pursuit. So if you are about to embark on a big and gruelling adventure, I’d like to send you my heartfelt wishes for your success.
Thanks for sharing some of what you went through. I think it was wonderful you set yourself and goal and pushed onward to it.
love it! congrats on your successful adventure. I too am a fat paddler, its a struggle enough to find equipment….let alone some good boats. great job!
Tuniq
Super post Sean…..we were all so very thrilled that you made it through the night and to the end of the 111km….I can’t imagine the pain you were in, and the willpower it must have taken to just keep pushing through. It was a brilliant result! We were all right behind you, and sending positive vibes your way throughout the paddle (just not suffering like you wre)…well done – I can’t say it enough!
Will be there for you guys to do it again next year! Yes, next year 🙂
Bloody amazing! Very impressed. I have been kayaking for over 13 years and don’t think I could achieve this!
Idea for your next challenge, Nepal, 7 rivers in 14 days. Go on…!!!
you’re a bloody champion mate!!!
see you for a beer on saturday
Congrats on your epic internal win. Now time to retire the yak and send it to the states to me o.O
Knew it was epic when Daryl posted your finishing. Can’t even describe how proud I am of you and your team. Literally cried at your incredible achievement, Bear.
Next year, mate. Next year.
Sean, I did my first HCC in a boat called an Old Town Nantucket, a 14ft long, 30ft wide bucket which was sold to me as a ‘fast expedition sea kayak’! It took me 17hrs, 34 minutes – the time is etched on my brain – and it remains the hardest thing I’ve done in any outdoors pursuit. Over the subsequent two years I got that down to just over 12 hours, and decided that was enough…! I know what you went through being out on the river for that length of time, well done. A 12 hour classic is way easier than a 17 hour classic, no doubt. You’ll only get faster if you stick with it!
Good on you,
Mark.
Go on, admit it, you’ve already thought of a couple of ways you could improve your time in another attempt, haven’t you? (Same as I did after finishing my first marathon….)
You definately have a way with words mate. That description is pretty much spot on! The wandering mind (caused by exhaution, pain, hours of isolation and sleep deprevation) can only be really understood by people who have experienced it before. It’s easy to see how you can become hooked on this endurance stuff.
The urge to just pull over and stop is probably the hardest feeling to fight, and you fought those demons and won. I’ve heard that even international competitive kayakers have been beaten by this marathon! You look fantastic in the finishing photos (not nearly as tired as you really were)!
Only a couple of weeks ago you said that you doubted if you’d be interested in repeating this race. You said you were setting a goal, finishing it, then moving on to the next challenge. I love the way that you’re already talking about next year! And that’s even before the pain from this one has gone. You now know that only a part of the HCC is the paddling; the rest is hard to explain, but your description is pretty darn good.
Bask in the glory, you deserve it.
Fatpaddler, what were you thinking?
No wonder you nearly broke down… what went through your head when you chose a “wooden stick” to paddle 111 Km… were you mad?
Funny enough, I would have done the same… I mean: not paddled the 111Km but chosen the stick for an endurance paddle.
I am sure that you coped a bit of abuse from other “wise” paddlers (like I do paddling a “toothpick”).
Glad that you persevered and proved the naysayers that Fatpaddler ain’t no bozo.
Respect.
Gday Gnarlydog. Yes, I copped buckets from many of the racers with wing paddles. In fact it was pretty toxic, I was frankly shocked that other paddlers could be that nasty (and ignorant) and it really left a bitter after-taste. That being said, I bloody love my stick and am not afraid to be Loud and Proud about it. Because in the words of the greats, “That’s how I roll!”. Cheers mate! 🙂
I’m an admirer and a regular follower of your blog. I met you briefly at Blue Earth at the pre event briefing, then also at Windsor on the day; I was there as Landcrew for my good ladywife on her 1st attempt at the Classic. From her experience, I now have a little insight of what you (and all the other 1st timers) went through. Whilst the physical effort to finish was tough, I reckon the mental aspect was the real hurdle. To get back into the boat after the Wisemans Ferry stop, in the middle of the night, your body aching all over, your built-in timeclock telling you that you should now be in bed asleep, knowing that the tide has turned and you must now paddle into it, the moon has set and it is pitch black, etc etc, must be the toughest part. To both you, her and all the other paddlers who gave it their best, you have my greatest admiration.
PS: Within 24 hours of finishing, Anne (my wife) was already talking about competing next year.
Gday Owen, good to hear from you! Firstly, congrats to your wife, if the tide was turning at Wisemans for her then she was a fair way in front of me – haha! I agree though, the mental torture of dealing with no sleep, darkness, loneliness and exhaustion was the real battle. I do actually feel it got the better of me, but then I suppose I managed to finish so perhaps not. It really is a very difficult event, and much respect to everyone who attempts it. I’m not so keen to do it again at this stage, since it’s now a “Milestone Achieved”, and I’m keen to find a new challenge to work towards. No idea what yet, but I’ll be sure to post it on site when I work it out! Thanks for reading the site and I’ll be sure to see you around the (paddling) traps soon! Cheers – FP
Fatpaddler
I have seen you around online and admire your work. You have cemented your place on my current ‘HERO list’ by sharing your account of the HCC in your usual way – without bragging or beating your chest (although, you may want to but be too tired to do so!). While marathon paddling is not my scene, I admire your courage. Your writing portays a man of depth and humour and I look forward to reading more in future. Keep writing the good stuff.
PS – Congratulations Anne(Mrs OwenW)
Tess
Tess, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever posted on this site – it made me blush! I’ve just read every post on your site too, love it! Fits in very well with my next goals – rolling and taking to the sea! Might even see you out there sometime – I’ll bring the doughnuts. 😉
Hey there and congratulations.
Great story and thanks for sharing. I am planning a three day 150km kayak trip next summer. The first leg is approx. 60km over open ocean between Canada and the USA. I have done multiday trips in the past and 50km day trips but nothing like this.
What advise can you give me? Did you have anything special on your kayak or done to your kayak? Did you have a rescue plan? Any radios? Where you able to get out and stretch your legs?
Thanks for sharing.
Tim.