Adirondack Canoe Classic Part 3: The Final Day

Day three of the ACC began with a warning.

"Mandatory Life-Jackets"

This was announced by way of a megaphone, then repeated in the whispers of the competitors who milled about in the staging area in Fish Creek Campground. Until this point life-vests did not have to be worn, just easily accessible in the event of a capsize. Our friends who were veterans of the race told us that this certainly not normal. It had happened before in prior runnings of the race when the wind had whipped the waterways into a churning, dangerous, mess. The part of Fish Creek Pond that we were launching from looked relatively calm, but racers around us could be overheard muttering things like "Just wait until we hit Upper Saranac. I bet its Hell." They were right.



After starting out in a mass group, we made our way out of the pond and under the Rt. 30 bridge. From there we made our way through a short channel and into a bay off of Upper Saranac. The first sign of the nastiness that loomed ahead came when we saw a few solo canoes and kayaks heading at us the wrong way. The next ominous sign was when we turned the corner and my dad's sunglasses flew off and into the water. Then we saw what was coming.

The scene in front of me conjured images from a war film where black clouds and devastation dominate a scene. Dark storm clouds clashed with the light, overcast grey of the sky and a brutal wind whipped at anything that was loose on the boat. The waves on Upper were massive for a lake like that. I would guess they reached 3 or 4 feet in height. We charged into them and just tried holding on while watching other racers capsize across the lake. For the so called "easiest day" of the race, we had our energy sucked from us during this section of the course faster any other part other than maybe Brown's Tract on day 1. The rain began just as we reached the first carry; called the Bartlett Carry.



During this carry we tried to eat, recharge, go to the bathroom, etc. Yet suddenly we found ourselves feeling a surreal sense of awareness of what we were doing and the immensity of our undertaking when we heard bagpipe music floating through the trees. On man in full regalia stood on the side of the carry and gave us a musical score to accompany our suffering. It was one of the more beautiful moments of the weekend.

From there we moved across Middle Saranac lake and into the Saranac River, then into lower and back into the Saranac river. This section of the course was very beautiful and features two short carries around old locks. The only bad part of this section was the rain and when I fell in the river while putting in after the second lock. Wet and holding a soggy PBJ in my lap, we continued on. We were drained and tired, but we knew that we only had Oseetah Lake, then Lake Flower to go until the finish.

Lake Flower was an amazing sight. Old camps and beautiful islands were everywhere as we snaked through buoys in place to avert boaters from rocky areas. We finally saw the finish in the distance and decided to finish strong. We sprinted with a boat that had come up behind us across the finish line and to the cheers of encouragement from the spectators who lined the beach. My mother greeted us with two beers and two big hugs. We had done it. After a total of around 21 hours we had finished. Even though we were sore and wet, we loved every second of the experience.