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Everesting Close to Home: 150 Miles Down the Willamette

There’s something about big efforts that usually feels… far away. At least for me.

For the last many years, my big efforts have meant lots of gear, plane tickets, scheduling grandparent help, layers of logistics, and at least a week away from normal life.

But every once in a while, I get to do something that feels just as big, right in my own backyard.

My most recent one was 150 miles down the Willamette River, which turned out to be a record-breaking paddle. And in its own way, the experience felt like “Everesting” close to home.


How This Even Started

A little over a year ago, Jason brought the idea of paddling the Willamette up to Dan—our longtime teammate, neighbor, and his paddling partner.

The two of them were looking for another big effort together after wins at races like the Yukon 1000 and WA360. Over the years, they’d been stacking up paddle races and records, and were ready for something new. I too was pushing them to find something, as I loved seeing them go off and both have so much fun and do well together. Their type of suffering lined up perfectly and I fully supported it mostly because I didn't share it...... at least not yet.

But like a lot of things, even though it was so close- the Willamette mission didn’t quite come together.

Our collective focus shifted to performing well at Adventure Race World Championships which as it turned out also had a massive paddle in it. As a team that took priority. After three months of intensive training together, the three of us + our teammate Matthias finished 5th at worlds, which was our goal!

During the race, something shifted in me- Jason and Dan weren't the only ones who loved LONG paddles. I don't quite know what changed, but somewhere in the middle of the night, surrounded by stars and listening to the rhythmic sound of our paddles hitting the water - I didn't want to stop. Not even a little.

And that was my "Aha" moment. I had done many long paddles before this in adventure races, one even that lasted 36 hours! But, I always was counting down the hours when I could be back on my bike or on my feet again.

Two weeks after World Championships, I messaged Dan: "Let’s do the Yukon. I’m in"



Why the Willamette

For the next couple of months we did a few couple hour paddles just to make sure I was actually "in" and then once January hit, I headed to NZ. While I paddled almost every day there, it was only for an hour at a time, sometimes only 45 min as I have a VERY tippy boat there. And so, once I came back to Bend a few weeks later, I was nervous.

"Will I really be able to do this?I know I can in an adventure race… but I feel way more comfortable biking forever than paddling."

I asked Jason some version of this question… a lot. Usually at night. Right before bed. Of course.After the umpteenth time, he’d had enough.

“YES, Chelsey. And to prove it to yourself—you’re going on a LONG mission with Dan.”

Because, yes, the Yukon was the ultimate goal. But before that, we needed something big enough to test ourselves.

A real effort, a full-system check and something that would tell us what pieces worked, and what pieces didn't/ needed more work. We’d both been training, just not together.

Fitness? Yes, check. Time in the boat together? Not yet.

Before lining up for something like the Yukon 1000, I don’t just want to hope it works. I wanted to know.

I wanted to figure out our pacing, our communication, our fueling and see how we dealt with the highs and the lows when it was just us. So, enter the Willamette River, a 150 mile non stop section of it from Eugene to Portland/ just before the Oregon City Falls.

It was close to home, logistically simple and long enough to matter and gave us a clear goal: be the fastest duo to paddle it nonstop and unsupported.

And... true to form, once Jason had the idea… it was happening and there was no stopping his momentum.

He planned everything: he booked the train tickets, made a map of where the take out/ car drop was and booked us a hotel, planned a camping trip for him and the boys and even gamed out our food.

All we had to do was show up and paddle.



Redefining Big

When people think about endurance milestones, they often think about things like Mount Everest—the ultimate symbol of going big. And so, naturally in endurance sports, “Everesting” has come to mean repeating something over and over until you’ve climbed 29,029 feet. It’s relentless, it’s somewhat mental and it’s a test of how deep you’re willing to go.

This wasn’t that, but it also kind of was.

Because 150 miles on the water isn’t just distance. It’s a lot of time, it’s constant repetition, it's monotony and most importantly- it’s managing your body, your brain, your fueling, your team, and the inevitable low points that show up whether you want them to or not. Essentially, it's staying "in it" for a REALLY long time.



The Willamette, Reimagined

The Willamette isn’t something we usually think of as extreme. It’s familiar, class I at most, and very accessible. It flows through towns, farmland, and yet it's also surprisingly wild in places as well.

However, when you stretch it out for 150 miles, it becomes something else entirely. Especially at mile 105, or at least that's when the "Whoa this is BIG" moment came for me.

After this, small efficiencies started to sharpen, I became a little bit more annoyed at Dan whenever he shifted or stopped for a few seconds, and all the little sores started to hurt more than before. Fueling became everything (thank you 4 Hour Fuel!), and my mindset? That was the whole game for me. The line into the dark place was thin, and it took everything I had to not drift over to it. All in all, I stopped seeing this as a "backyard mission" and started seeing it as a full on endurance arena.

I was in it, and it was all both so hard and so perfect.



What 150 Miles Actually Takes (Fueling + Gear)

With something like this (and expedition racing), you don't get through by being "fancy" and adding a bunch of new gear and a buffet style of snacks. At least I don't. I get through it by being consistent and by doing what I know works.

Fueling looked like this:

  • 12 hours worth of 4 Hour Fuel Banana Chocolate

  • A 4 Hour Fuel Berry Endurance Smoothie

  • One very necessary and very large 3 Musketeers bar (we split it at mile 75 and 125)

  • A shared bag of Nerds Gummy Clusters (I can't believe how long it lasted!)

Not overthought. Just steady, constant intake that kept me moving forward. Because out in the endurance world, if you fall behind on calories, you don’t come back from it easily. Its always better to stay the curve rather than digging yourself out from a deep hole.

Gear was simple—and exactly what worked for me.

And maybe the real MVP:

  • A generous amount of AOS Skin Doctor on all the parts that love to chafe and blister.



Why this one Mattered to Me

One of the biggest takeaways for me was that nobody can fake durability. It comes with experience and a whole lot of mental work. This trip showed me that I do in fact have enough of it, so much so that it can overflow from biking into paddling. It's the same but it's also different.

And lastly that for long efforts like this, the strongest athlete doesn't always win - the most consistent one does, which was a great reminder for me because I am well... not the biggest person. To be able to show myself that "yes I can" be in this arena was a big confidence boost for me.

There’s also something uniquely powerful about doing something big in a place that’s part of your everyday life. Just showing up with minimal gear on a river I've seen a thousand times and seeing how far and how fast you can go is pretty cool. But the best part was the timing of it all. It was an amazing test for all the things and showed us both what our weak and our strong parts are. No harsh judgements, just "Ok cool, now we know what our homework is!"

In the end, the Willamette 150 wasn't just a backyard effort, it was a checkpoint on the way to something bigger. Which as it turns out, happens to be in my childhood backyard.

The Yukon is a river I grew up near—well, about 12 hours away—but in Alaska, that still counts.


Your “Everest”

What is your "everest"? A mission that you've always wanted to do? Or perhaps you are training for something that is far away from you but you need a testing ground. I'd love to hear about it!

What this effort reminded me, and something I want to keep remembering, is this:

Big doesn’t always mean far.

But sometimes, it’s exactly what gets you ready to go there.

 
 
 

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