A rare glimpse into the internal workings of the DBD...

Finally after years of covert investigative work including around the clock surveillance of the highly exclusive Kitchi Gammi Club, located in Old Duluth, Bob Woodward, the noted journalist of Watergate fame, has obtained a recent document that sheds light onto the internal workings of the highly secretive DBD Honor Board. Woodward reportedly bribed an unscrupulous Kitchi Gammi Man-servant who covertly managed to pocket one of several copies of a letter from a "Hendricks" that presumably was part of an agenda distributed to the Honor Board at a recent DBD meeting held at the Club.

Dear Sir Earnest:

I thought you may like to hear of our most recent expedition to the vast reaches of the Pequaywan Lake area and beyond. All men in attendance had on their person’s the required items including the British .455 Webley Revolver. I am happy to report that none were required to be unholstered.

Temperature a cool -5C, winds calm as we bravely depart our vessel, the William A Irvin at 06:00. To my surprise and joy, we were not two, but three riders . . . A certain John Hatcher rose early to help us reach our goal.

This expeditionary force was thus made up of: Hatcher, Sir Ek (of Scandinavian descent) and your humble friend and author Hendricks (of Dutch accessory). Mallory was there to offer his regards. Our spirits soared as he ordered an extra finger of rum for our small force.

Our route through well known areas somewhat uneventful, save the chance meeting of another explorer. To our surprise and dismay, this comrade of the morning chose to not acknowledge our presence and continue alone (what's up with that anyway at 6:15 in the morning??). Eki needed to be momentarily restrained, but he quickly regained his composure.

By the time we reached the top of the Lester River summit, the cold had rendered all external water supplies unusable, only those worn on our backs remained accessible. Some had to place these frozen supplies and sustenance next to the body, and only hope for a thaw.

As the sun began its journey . . . our route calm and beautiful . . . we rode easily as one, discussing history, thoughts and dreams. We wondered aloud of our missing mates . . . were they as ill as claimed, as otherwise busy as declared . . . or were they even in a warm place, beverage in hand in the land of Iron, Or were they indeed on their own "secret expeditions?"

As we turned to the East, somewhere North of Pequaywan lake, we were met by a strange vehicle . . . it appeared to be of somewhat modern design, constructed of metal, yet conveyed by 14 sled dogs. What a strange site it was . . . Suddenly, the weather turned against us as a thick, pea soup fog appeared . . . our vision limited to at best 15 meters . . . off we continued, unhindered by this turn of events.

Moving along familiar routes, most recently travelled on 26 September, we arrived Clover Valley where our good friend and fellow rider Hatcher was forced by prior commitments to leave us. Brave soul he . . . at the point of departure he had achieved some 67 miles, with resources rendered nearly unusable by the cold . . . and still with 23 solo miles to travel!

Here the Scandinavian and Dutchman continued Easterly, toward the Lake at high speed, searching for the warmth and comfort of civilization. A hearty "thank You" to Miss Sarah who supplied us with the life sustaining coffee we so desired.

The effects of the drug immediately apparent as we easily climbed the Homestead apex, only to be confronted by a short, yet steep climb up "Hegberg . . " Shortly after, we achieved 45 mph on a steep, gravel descent . . .

Back to the Lake we headed, rolling uneventfully along the shore only to be dared by one final challenge: the Seven Bridges and Hawk Ridge ascent. It is here where our Dutchman, who led his two letter surnamed companion up each and every preceding challenge, learned "It is not he who leads the first lap . . . it is he who leads the last lap that wins . . ." It is assumed that were it not for the help of Sir Ek, that Hendricks would still be gasping for air as he trundled up this final summit. A lesson well taught and learned . . .

Shortly after our route complete, expedition over . . . we concluded it was indeed a great day . . . Total journey, well over 100 miles . . .
Respectfully Yours,
Hendricks