That month usually doesn't have an exclamation point on the end of it for me, but it's been almost a week since I watered my plants - or needed to. We've had a cool front bring us several inches of rain and highs in the low 90's. Wow! Summer is 1/2 over, and I haven't even thought to myself, "when is this going to end?!". It's a shame the rest of the country has been having record heat waves.
Team Cuatro Sinko, it seems, is up for another canoe challenge: the Colorado River 100. You guessed it - it's a 100 mile race down the Colorado River. Happens on Labor Day. Just enough time to get good and flabby if I don't continue training.
Also, it looks like the team is in the planning stages of the Texas 200 (these events have very clever names) - the 200 mile sail up the Texas coast. We have two options: sail a Catalina 22 (a very capable shoal-draft boat with a swing-keel) or rig our canoe Tinkerbell with a Sunfish rig and fit it with amas (pontoons) to make it a trimaran. In true "go big or go home" Cuatro Sinko style, we are currently considering both. Heck yeah!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
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!
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.
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).
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
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.
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.
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.
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