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!

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!

Schooled By the River Again: Witness to a River Miracle

A superb day for paddling: a high of around 80, mostly cloudy, and a low but favorable wind for Saturday's training run. Three to four inches of rain in the area 1-2 days prior made it a bit hairy, though. After negotiating a tricky portage around Staples Dam (picture), we felt pretty confident and were cruising fast down the swollen river. Kicking back at mile 22 of the 23 mile trip, however, was a bit overconfident.

We were done in by a strainer that should have been easily avoided. Swamped, we kept our heads, and things happened deliberately. The water was swift, and carried us and the boat at a good clip. I recovered the only missing paddle as we were swept 1/4 mile down stream, bobbing in our life vests and keeping feet crossed in front of us. I eventually made it to the canoe and held on with the others, but even when there was a small bit of ground underfoot, the water was too deep and swift for the four of us to stop ourselves, let alone the boat. So, we figured we'd ride it out to the next sandbar. But with the river in this condition, at this level, there were none. We eventually came to a log jam in a tight bend in the river next to a steep bluff about 15 tall. No way for me not to get scraped off the side of the canoe, I let go and floated around it, expecting to meet the canoe on the other side of the logs. Of course the boat didn't make it to the other side of the logs - it got pinned. #Flashbacks of the week before. I scrambled to the bluff where I hung on to tree roots about 30 feet downriver from the boat and my 3 teammates. There was no way to make it back to them in that current. They could see me, but not hear me, due to the rushing water around them. I could hear them shouting to each other just fine. They tried to get the boat up onto the logs and emptied, being careful not to get pinned between the current and the logs/canoe. It took them what seemed like forever to manipulate the craft up to relative safety, while I hung on to two paddles in one hand and a tree root in the other. Relieved that the boat was no longer swamped, they started brainstorming on the second half of the problem: how to get it over and off the jam safely and without getting it pinned again.

That's when I witnessed a river miracle. As they were precariously standing on the jam holding the canoe and discussing, a huge chunk of the top part of the soft bluff 10 feet away from them eroded due to the current, fell into the river, and caused a small tsunami. The relatively calm discussion quickly turned into yells of "Jump in!". The three got into the boat just as the wave lifted the craft up and over the logs, clearing them of the small jam. As the boat passed I sprang from bluff and grabbed the stern and rode another 1/4 mile until we finally found some footing, and beached the craft for a quick reality check. It actually happened.

Pics: 1. A mean river critter outside Black's BBQ (the beef rib is now a tradition). 2. Below Staples Dam, NOT looking its usual self. 3. Safe and dry before we swamped. Sadly, the mounted camera ran out of juice before the miracle. Typical.

Texas River Marathon

Yesterday we ran the Texas River Marathon. It's the preliminary race before the Texas Water Safari, and it determines pole position amongst the more serious racers. Team Cuatro Sinko, of course, ran it because it was a chance to get out, get some more paddle time in, and scout 40 miles of the race course. We did great, and were shooting rapids like champs. It took us just over 9 hours, averaging 4.4 mph overall, including break time and a 20 minute debacle in which we got caught up in a log jam.

It was my turn at the helm, and as we approached a chute through the logs, we noticed an abandoned Alumicraft canoe pinned by the current to fallen trees - a clear warning sign that the river wasn't messing around. It looked like it had been there a while. Determined to steer us straight through the chute, I squared us up and felt pretty good. What I could not see over the heads in front of me, however, was a smaller stump sticking out just above the water. We hit it, went sideways, and the four of us went overboard in an instant. The canoe was quickly swept into the logs, and pinned by the current with the inside of the canoe facing up river; it was a cup with water continuously spilling in. We assessed. It looked bleak. Flashes of losing this new boat went through our minds. Muscle alone was never going to move the boat away from those logs. We unclipped all the gear and took it ashore, fighting the current to and from the jam. Nothing was missing but one very expensive paddle. We wriggled and shoved. I thought. I got us into this, I had to get us out. I directed the team to all stand with our back to the current, towards the middle of the boat - the place with the most leverage. On three we all lifted the bottom gunwale up, so that the boat was level (although still below the water line) and no longer like a cup facing the current. We continued to lift and rolled the boat up onto the logs, emptying the water and revealing the lost paddle. The boat saved and still intact, no one hurt, and no gear lost, we all cheered and sighed in relief. One more lesson learned from the river.


The pics: 3 of the 4 Cuatro Sinko Team making the checkpoint 50 minutes before cutoff, averaging 5.2 mph, and feeling pretty cocky (before the log jam); Flip, our team captain from the shore, enjoying "the best beef rib [he'd] ever had" at Black's BBQ in Lockhart after the race.

A Taste of What We're In For

Last week was a 17 mile run down the first stretch of the race. Despite our noobishness, we finished it in a time that would have passed the first checkpoint and kept us in the race. We were pretty beat at the end, though, and the next checkpoint requires an even faster pace. We had a camera mounted to the bow that took a picture every minute (until it ran out of juice)- hope to have a time-lapse video soon. Until then, enjoy this picture of me underwater 5 minutes into the trip. We learned quickly to respect the river.

Tinkerbell

She's here, and she's not small. Old Town makes an XL Tripper: 20ft LOA (length over all) and 41" beam (41 inches across). But although she's big, she still seems lithe, and she carries her 105lbs well. We had her outfitted with 4 seats instead of the factory 2 seats (thanks Austin Canoe and Kayak!). A day trip to Houston to pick her up gave us plenty of time to talk strategy - and there is plenty to talk about. Portages, when to sleep, if to sleep, what to eat, gear... the list goes on. But now, with Tinkerbell in our possession, we can start training and figuring everything out. Two weeks to go before the Texas Water Marathon, a preliminary race of 40 miles between Gonzalez and Victoria. There will be only 3 of the team members going on this one, but for us it's more of a scouting expedition than a race. Fingers crossed. Fingers crossed.

Texas Water Safari is Happening

It's been a number of years since the idea of competing in the Texas Water Safari starting circulating amongst myself and a couple of buddies. Every year there is an excuse. This year, there is none. I'll be out of school for 2 months, son at Summer Camp, and just enough vacation time at work to make it happen. And the best part: a team captain that is every bit as enthused as I am. We're not taking the Lil' Longhorn, my burnt orange Coleman canoe. No- our captain has commandeered us 2 other paddlers and has sprung for a 20', four person canoe (or, one that will be outfitted for 4 paddlers anyways). Billed as the "World's Toughest Boat Race", the Texas Water Safari is an annual race via the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers, from Aquarena Springs in the college town of San Marcos, to the shrimping village of Seadrift on the Texas coastline, a total distance of 262 miles. Check out testimonies, pics, the route, etc. at the website. Keep checking back to see how the training is going. We have about 8 weeks to get ready for 262 miles of dams, sweepers, log jams, rapids, heat, sleep deprivation, snakes, and gators. This will be one for the books.
Picking up canoe this weekend from Houston. It's finally sinking in: what have I gotten myself in to?