The Clam Race is an Endurance event. For everyone. The Start is a big occasion -- we were thrilled again this year to have the Muskoka Music Men attend. They add a heightened level of class and a great deal of entertainment to the festivities, and are always popular with our guests, so thank you to our Barbershop Quartet. The old favourites are always best, are they not? Songs like "My Wild Irish Clam," "When All Your Clams are Smiling," and the like... 
A bit of rain doesn't stop the Race. Clams like wet and muddy conditions, and the big event tent we borrowed perfectly fit the bill, and kept the famous Chowder Bowl nice and dry.
Brian and Mike took clams to the Start; Kitty scribed the names; Shelley and Dan helped prepare the clams for their racing numbers, Mike handled the official fireworks to start the race. 37 Clams were placed on the Start line. The Ducks were on hand to act as area stewards and keep the race orderly. 
Mike and Laura lead the charge for fashionable headwear -- like Royal Epsom or the Queen's Plate, fancy hats are always encouraged at prestigious events such as these.
It began to rain just before the Clams were all at the post, so this year some of the candles along the start line did not burn.
The next sun-soaked and spectacular morning, at 8.30, we all gathered on Clover's dock for the official measuring. This task falls to Brian, our resident Clamologist, using a carefully calibrated wheel on a hockey stick (after all, this IS a Canadian event). He carefully follows the trail left by each clam to determine the best distance. The rest of us stay on the dock so as not to disturb the clarity of the water, and take down the numbers. 
And cheer on the favourites. It gets noisy and fun, but we were assured baby Marty was already awake before we started. Sleeping babies take precedence over cheering crowds...Mother duck and her baby were on hand early, soon to be joined by the entire flotilla of Area Stewards supervising the measuring. Mother duck kept up a raucous squawking -- we couldn't account for her alarm, until Brian spotted Achmed the Cat lurking under the Clover dock, beneath our feet, hanging out in the crib. Mother Duck was on to him!
In the next post, we'll tell you how the Race Was Won.
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