So Pottahawk has come and gone for yet another year. The weather, for the most part was spectacular, yet I can`t help thinking something was missing from this year- a sense of living on the edge perhaps....
For those who stayed out at the point on Saturday night, I`m not talking about the pounding the boats received when the wind shifted. I refer to the dangerously risky` nature of the participants that always materializes every year.
Sure their were a lot of people and Broadway was loaded as were many of the passers by, but that sense....the one where you feel something special, something wild, something truly unusual was going to happen, never appeared.
It`s not like we were out of position- sitting dead-centre of the first row at Broken Tree.
Was it the unusually colder water that no amount of urine could warm, I don`t know, but something was remiss.
Over the next X plus weeks I will explore the phenomenon that was this year`s Pottahawk, giving you the best of the t-shirts I spotted there, the Johnny Wad and Boo sightings and any other tid-bits I feel necessary to send your way.
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