Virtual Ship's Log from Captain Hammer

'Cause I don't have enough to do already

Friday, June 29, 2012

Last on the Topic of TWS: Inspiring Individuals

Alternate title for the post: Cojoneros. I'm not sure that's a word, but what I mean is 'Folks With Cojones'.
There were a lot of inspiring folks out there in the race, but these are my top 3 favorites:
1. Old Man and the Sea - solo paddler in his 60's (maybe 70?), plugging away, portaging over dams and jams. Awesome. Lucky he had a light composite canoe.
2. Not So Lucky: The Reluctant Solo Paddler - this guy's partner wanted out. He didn't. So he stayed in, found an old tire/rim on the river bank to use for ballast in the bow of his aluminum 2-seater. He finished not long after we did (and under the 100 hours). This is surprisingly not the first time I've heard of this happening, but it was cool to see.
3. El Cojonero Mas Loco - this guy is the first to try (and first to finish) the entire 260+ miles on a stand-up paddle board. Not really much more to say about that. Simply amazing.
pic: stand-up paddle board guy displaying withering hands, around mile 190.

Update (written 7/02/2012): well, it looks like there's mutual respect amongst all us folks who were told we couldn't finish. And speaking of the devil! Check out TheStandUpGuy blog!

TWS: Lessons Learned

There are a multitude of things I've learned while training and running the Texas Water Safari. Not least among them is the importance of a good team. But the following is advice for folks not running with such a large pack, and some for general paddling:
1. dry bags
2. take care of your hands and your butt, and they'll take care of you.
3. almost as important as hydrating is taking in enough salt and electrolytes. This year was the first ever fatality of the Texas Water Safari, in the 50 years it's been going. The cause: water intoxication - too much water intake and not enough salt/electrolytes.
4. listen to veteran's advice, take what you need and disregard the rest. Many veterans told us we would not be able to finish in the boat we chose. I'm glad we didn't listen. We dared, and we did. We practiced, thought, and trained, and had a GREAT time. Don't let others tell you that you can't- instead, keep your head down and keep paddling (practicing and training, that is).

Monday, June 25, 2012

The Bay, and... Finish Line?

After the Salt Water Barrier was several miles of canal: calm, calm water with no wind. We were racing the sun to get to the bay, but night fell before we made it. We pushed on. The excitement that we were likely only a few hours from finishing was tempered by drowsiness. Half asleep, I almost hit a crushed aluminum can floating up to the bow before realizing... it was alligator eyes! What must have been at least a 4 ft. gator darted off a few inches before the blade of my paddle came down on his head. We were all now perfectly awake and alert.
The lack of sleep and the dark continued to play tricks on our eyes, making faces out of trees. Finally at the bay, we chose a bright light on the opposite side and paddled hard. We were pointed dead into the wind, and the boat felt stable plowing straight into the waves. After about an hour, we changed our strategy: we would wade and walk the boat in shallow water along the banks of the reed-covered barrier island. We didn't get far. Back in the boat, and this time taking the waves at an angle. The boat was still steady, but the wind was rising and the waves were growing. We slowed to a crawl. Palm-sized fish were jumping around, over, and into the canoe. I saw what would be the last of my TWS nighttime misperceptions: a race official standing in the bay with a reflective windbraker and a clipboard, observing our progress. It was really a channel marker buoy, which meant we were headed generally in the right direction.
But with the wind and waves increasing, it made sense to get out again and try walking along the coast. It seemed like forever before we made contact. Even though it was midnight, an enthusiastic spectator on the shore yelled an encouraging "Almost there! Only a few hundred yards!".
Touching the finish buoy, picking the boat up the stairs of the sea wall, and dragging it under the arch felt surreal. Two hundred and seventy miles. Excitement and relief- fireworks on the inside and outside a collapse and sprawl onto the grass (after pictures, of course).
Official time: 87 hours and 43 minutes. Not bad for four canoewbies and a 20 ft. Old Town canoe.


Pic: team with captain

Day 4- the Home Stretch

After successfully negotiating the hazard that swamped and pinned us in the Marathon (we got there just before dark; all part of the plan) we took another hour-and-a-half nap just past the Victoria park/checkpoint. The rest of the night was uneventful, except for a very large alligator gar that jumped up and hit the boat broadside, just at the gunwales. Another few inches and that sucker would have been in the boat!
This last section included some very cool bridges... and some very big log jams. These were the kind that were not sitting on the banks majestically, or cluttering bridge piles with only a four foot channel by which to slip through. No- these were the ones we'd been warned about, the ones we could see on Google Earth. The ones where people have marked takes outs, because these ones spanned the width of the river, and went on for 1/4 mile or more. Now it was getting interesting again. The four of us had to think, reconnoiter, and use muscles we hadn't used in a few days to lift 8-10 feet up a bank, carry, and drag the boat around. We were lucky to hit them during the day.
Passing them made us feel invigorated, and conjured images of African or Amazon safaris. If we threw some more coal into our steamers, we may make the bay before nightfall, and have the advantage of a daylight navigation. We hit the Salt Water Barrier (last checkpoint!) and unloaded all of our unneeded gear and uneaten food to make us as light as possible. The wind was calming down, and everything seemed to be in our favor.
Pic: extraneous gear.

Third Day- The Cuatro Sinko Way



Third day and all was still going well. Time started to become meaningless; if it weren't for the pressure to bank time and make checkpoints, the only thing that would have mattered would have been the position of the sun. I must have asked a dozen times what day it was. We passed log jams the size of large houses. With fingers, shoulders, and butt all getting used to the grind, I was getting into a rhythm and started falling asleep while paddling. I've fallen asleep standing before, but never while I was still moving.
The pic is of the team preparing for a portage. The strategy was to carry most gear and over half our water in individual backpacks. As we approached a dam, we would take turns dropping out to unclip our pack and put it on. This made the canoe a lot lighter and easier to pick up, carry, drag, and put in. That's the Cuatro Sinko way.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Texas Water Safari, Day 2

The day started well with a good portage around Gonzales Dam, and a check stop that included a sock full of ice for the shoulders (a MUST for each daylight check stop), and a fresh wrap on the fingers. I found during training that gloves keep my hands from ever drying. If they get wet, the skin softens and makes them more prone to blister. Instead of gloves, a good wrap with medical tape, then duck tape, does the trick.
It was a few hours past the check point that we decided to stop for a hot meal (MRE) and a siesta. We each got about 30 minutes sleep, then back to paddling. everyone was still in good spirits, and we managed to have another dry stretch. By nightfall we had banked enough time for another 1.5 hour nap. All was good: another weird but uneventful night, then

day was breaking.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

The Texas Water Safari 2012, Day 1

I figured I'd wait until the river dreams stopped before writing about our adventure, but a week later I'm still having them. Maybe I need to purge to stop the dreams- so here it goes, Day 1 Texas Water Safari:

Feeling pretty good on the river at the starting line in Aquarena Springs: well hydrated, bowels evacuated, and a calm restful sleep the night before. It's as if my mind finally just gave up all the anxiety. I tried a Gestalt method of just riding the anxiety whenever I felt it the previous week, and it seemed to work. There was a lot of excitement on the river, and a record number of boats (136, I believe). This first day would include the most technical part of the course, and our first night-time paddling yet.
All went smoothly. We cruised by our checkpoints, stayed afloat in the rapids, and portaged like pros. Folks said we'd have trouble portaging such a large, heavy boat around the dams; we practiced this part of the river, though, and had a technique that actually jumped us ahead of a few other teams. Feeling pretty confident by dusk, we attached our bow light, donned our PFDs and headlamps, and decided not to sleep until after Gonzales (which we'd hit the next morning, if all went as planned).
We came to a few major obstacles this first night: Palmetto Bridge, Ottine Rapids, and Ottine Dam. We took them all slow and safe, and it paid off. Our movement in the water at night was swifter than had been anticipated, so the extra time spent being safe was more than compensated.
Lack of sleep and the almost pitch black played tricks on our eyes. One of our crew was convinced there were "murals on the walls". Fact is there were no murals... and no walls. Only trees. Other boats way ahead of us looked like lights from a spelunker exploring caves of trees in the distance. Another boat came up behind us, their bow light casting our shadows on the bluffs and banks. It was a surreal vision, but daybreak found us safe, dry, and in good spirits.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Here We Go...

We leave in a few hours to check Tinkerbell in at the race start. She'll stay overnight, and we begin the race at 9AM (almost 24 hours from now). Check out the GPS website that will update our location every 10 minutes, www.tinyurl.com/cuatrosinko .
It's already been so much fun getting ready for this thing. I look forward to seeing all I can see, and conquering this passage. Not looking forward to the sleep deprivation, exhaustion, and monkey butt. However, I have to keep in mind that we don't have all that much to complain about: check out this story.
Hopefully next post will be filled with stories about how we made it!

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

A Good Solid Run



The first 40 miles of the river are some of the most technical, and a quick time is needed in the Texas Water Safari to make the cut-off. We did this run last Sunday, and made it 2 hours ahead of the cut-off. We all feel pretty confident going into the race this weekend, and are all too excited to sleep very well. Every time I close my eyes I either see a sweeper or a vision I've conjured from one of the many stories I've read about others' experiences of this thing. One of the best I've read was not from a Water Safari racer, but from Robert Louis Stevenson:

I was aware of another fallen tree within a stonecast. I had my back-board down in a trice, and aimed for a place where the trunk seemed high enough above the water, and the branches not too thick to let me slip below…. The tree caught me about the chest, and while I was yet struggling to make less of myself and get through, the river took the matter out of my hands and bereaved me of my boat. The Arethusa swung round broadside on, leaned over, ejected so much of me as still remained on board, and, thus disencumbered, whipped under the tree, righted, and went merrily away down stream.
I do not know how long it was before I scrambled on to the tree to which I was left clinging, but it was longer than I cared about…. The stream ran away with my heels as fast as I could pull up my shoulders, and I seemed, by the weight, to have all the water of the [River] Oise in my trousers' pockets. You can never know, till you try it, what a dead pull a river makes against a man. Death himself had me by the heels…. And still I held to my paddle. At last I dragged myself onto my stomach on the trunk, and lay there a breathless sop, with a mingled sense of humor and injustice…. On my tomb, if ever I have one, I mean to get these words inscribed: He clung to his paddle.

God save us!

Friday, June 1, 2012

Another Paddle, Another Miracle


A 47 mile paddle last Monday (Memorial Day) and not one spill. But that's not the miracle. On our way out to Luling to put in, we discovered the speed limit is NOT 65, but actually 55 MPH. A very kind DPS officer brought it to our attention with her lights and siren. She sidles up to the car, informs us of our discretion, and takes our driver Johannes' license and registration. Small world: it turns out about a year ago she bought a car from him. He's not a car salesman - just had a car he didn't need anymore, sold it on CraigsList. They don't even live in the same town. What are the odds? Luckily the car has behaved well for her. She let us off with a warning. We also did not have the ass-end of the canoe hanging off the van flagged, per Texas law.

I don't know what we've done to rack up so many karma points, but we seem to be redeeming them pretty quickly!