THE WILD WEIRD WORLD OF SPORTS

The first stop on a two-month long Weird Sports extravaganza took me to the home of the Cartwrights and Bonanza: Virginia City, Nevada.

For the 52nd consecutive year, this Wild West town raced camels at 12 o’clock. Yep, you read it right: camel racing at high noon.

They also threw in ostriches, zebras and chickens into the mix for good measure. YEEEEE HAW!

Many tourist towns are pretty cheesy. This one, I have to say, is pretty cool. From miners to saloon girls, Virginia City embraces its real and fictional past.

That said, I was a bit bummed not to see Hoss and Hop Sing in the parade.

One thing I didn’t know is that these animals, which live on a farm in Kansas, are part of a regular circuit. Yep, they’re pros.

Hanging with them, I had flashbacks to my camel experience in India. Mr. Desert would have been a killer MC for this race.

Now I would have definitely driven down to photograph just the camels.

But when I saw a video of the ostriches in action, it quickly became a Gots-To-Go-Scenario™.

According to the event’s web site, the camel races began as a hoax. Camels were introduced to the American frontier as pack animals, and were brought to the Comstock in the 19th century to carry salt and general supplies.

As Virginia City grew and the V&T Railroad took over the drayage chores for the area, the sometimes disagreeable and smelly animals were turned loose in the hills and eventually disappeared.

Fictitious accounts of camel racing back in those days led to the real deal happening today.

Since I used up most of my best material in the first volume of Weird Sports, I’m really motivated to devour as many new sports as quickly as I can. Camel/Ostrich/Zebra/Chicken Racing was a wonderful way to kickstart my Indian Summer adventure.

Who says there’s no money in weird sports?

Ok, maybe you can’t double your money and make it stack. But you can still have fun with fundraisers, which is exactly what a gymnastic club in Redmond, Oregon decided to do. They hosted their 5th Annual Mud Volleyball tournament alongside a corn field looking over Smith Rock.

Better believe it. If you build it, they will come.

Just like with mud football, I arrived to the scene all smiles. Not just because kick ass photo friend Julia Robinson was there holding fort. But also because of how well this modest tournament dressed up their volleyball pits. Visual gold to be mined from every angle.

Some of the larger weird sports tournaments I cover should step back and recognize.

I also had flashback to trashing a perfectly-functioning 5D II in a rice paddy in ‘nam. (What a klutz!) Thankfully, my gear was relatively mud-free this day. Me, not so much.

The action started at 9am, meaning the best light arrived before I was really awake. There was great energy everywhere. Every now and then, I’d come across some kids doing insane handstands and the like. Then I remembered that these girls were no doubt part of the gymnastic class.

Oh yeah, I’m sharp. I have a Poynter education. 

And as with the Rednecks, they held a mud pit belly flop. Nothing too over the top, but still good fun.

I want to thank the Pacific NW for being a wonderful foundation in weird sports.

One of the organizers told me that she patterned this tournament after a similar one in O-hi-o. I love the excuse to travel far and wide. But sometimes, it’s nice just to be on familiar land.

And thanks to Jules for perfectly timing a surprise trip to Oregon. Well done.

What happens when a group of men get into an argument at a small town bar? Yeah, you settle it outside.

That’s what allegedly took place 25 years ago in LeClaire, Iowa at the Roadhouse Tavern, which looks over the Mississippi River towards Port Byron, Illinois. Bravado over who was the strongest between the two towns turned into a bet: which town would win a tug of war across the Mighty Mississippi?

That challenge continues to this day, as the border towns battle annually for bragging rights at Tugfest.

This was the third consecutive summer that The Bittle and I road tripped from Chicago to a border state in search of weird sports and visual gems. First it was lumberjacks. Then hog wrasslin’. And now Tugfest.

We arrived a little early to the event, to get the lay of the land – and water. We both weren’t really feeling it when we arrived. Not seeing any photos in the harsh sunlight. It was mainly teams of people gathering in the shade.

But patience is a virtue for a reason. Once the actual activities got going, all was good.

When I’d tell folks that I was going to shoot a tug of war between Iowa and Illinois, there were visions of one team pulling the other team directly into the Mississippi. And that might have been how it was when it first started. (Can you imagine those photos?!)

But things are now much more scientific and more fair than you’d expect. Eleven teams of 16 tuggers for each side are actually perpendicular to the river, with a pulley redirecting the rope connecting the two towns. The Iowa teams are facing south; Illinois north. The goal is to pull the 2,400-ft, 680-lb. rope the greatest distance towards their side of the river in a 3-minute span. Whichever side wins at least six contests claims the Alabaster Eagle trophy.

A few years ago, a university research team measured the tug pits, distance, drag of the Mississippi and various variables to make things more fair. It turns out, Iowa had a slight advantage because of the slope of its pit. Things changed after the survey. One year, Iowa was shutout in the best out of 11 tugs.

I was curious to see what was going on on the Illinois side. Thanks to the kind and helpful organizers of Tugfest, I was able to get a police escort by boat to Port Byron. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to dock anywhere because of a sea of lilly pads. Though the view from the boat did reassure me that I wasn’t really missing anything. We headed back safely to Iowa and the rest of the action, with the police radio broadcasting updated scores.

Illinois went into this silver anniversary leading the series, winning the trophy 14 years vs. 10 years for Iowa. Last year, Illinois teams won 7 of the 11 tugs. This year it was tied going into the final tug, though Illinois pulled it out in the end. The result was pretty obvious, as a loud cheer boomed across the Mississippi River from Port Byron. There’s always next year, Iowa.

Thanks again to Bittle for joining me on another fun roadtrip.

Where are we going next summer?