The Horse We Rode In On: Part I

I first heard about the Texas Water Safari from Matt. In 2009, Matt and a friend bought a beat up aluminum canoe and started paddling. Their plan was to jump on the Guadalupe River while the race was going on that summer and paddle the 40 mile section (Cuero 236 to Victoria City Park) that's also the Texas Water Safari Prelim course. Why, you ask? I have no clue. Maybe Matt can answer that one. Anyway, that didn't happen. They did, however, make it out a little later that summer to attempt the 40 mile run. Just to clarify things here, 2009 was one of the toughest safari years ever. Ridiculous heat, humidity, and very low river levels. Yep, great year for a paddle. Actually, me and Justin were heading down to Victoria to meet them at their camp site when Justin got the S.O.S. call from Matt. It's an entertaining story, maybe I'll bring Matt on to tell it some time. To sum up from memory here: they made it 20 miles, part of their group had capsized and lost all of their water, there was no current, and some fishermen told them there was a mile long log jam downstream. To be honest, I was a little jealous that I missed out on that adventure.

In March 2010 we bought kayaks and started paddling. I think our first paddle was 13 miles on Armand Bayou. Not long after that, we signed up for the Colorado River 100 and I started reading every thing I could find about ultra-distance paddling, including the Texas Water Safari. It's funny, you read about some thing as brutal and intimidating as the safari and if you're like me, you know that there's pretty much no way around it...it's going to happen.

The CR100 was on the first weekend of September, so we spent most of the summer “training”. I hesitate to use the word “training” here, because what we did was the bare minimum. We took a trip out to Wimberly for Memorial weekend and paddled the San Marcos from Staples dam to Zedler Mill, in Luling. For the most part, only safari racers paddle this section, because as I mentioned in the last post, it's choked with downed trees. It was worth it. There were some hilarious “accidents”, the best of which was Justin trying to shoot the gap under a tree, running face first into a thick branch, snapping the branch, then flipping. Once we realized he still had all of his teeth we thought it was damn funny. Justin, we're still laughing at that one. I should also mention, we didn't know exactly where we were going. We neglected to bring a map or program the take out into our gps. Matt and Kris pulled over at Luling 90, while me and Justin paddled on looking for Zedler Mill and our truck...hopefully before dark. We did make it before dark. A couple of safari racers were out training and told us where we were. I'm sure they were a bit confused as to why we were on this section of river, with our car parked at Zedler, and no idea where we were...

As I said, CR100 training was minimal. We went for some long paddles on the weekends and that was about it. Once in a while, I'd get out during the week for a shorter paddle, but the heat/humidity were brutal on any kind of intense paddle. This is where I learned a valuable lesson: you MUST have electrolytes. One weekend I launched into Halls Bayou with a plan of paddling all the way down the bayou to West Bay, then back (about 25 miles). I probably paddled a bit too hard on the way down and I was considering taking a longer route that would run into the bay, east along the ICW, and up another bayou. I actually called my brother to get him to map out the distance on google earth. The route was further than I thought, so I decided I didn't have enough water or food and would be better off sticking with the original plan. This would turn out to be a REALLY good decision. I eventually made it to West Bay and pulled over on a gravel bar for a short break. On the way back, things fell apart. My stomach started cramping and my energy bottomed out. At the time, I didn't click to what it was. My muscles were a little sore, I thought I just paddled too hard on the way down and over heated. In reality, I had nothing for electrolytes. I had been drinking Boost (for calories) and plain water. Boost has some amount of sodium and potassium, but not nearly enough.

The next 2.5 hours, for lack of a better description, really sucked. I had enough energy to paddle hard, but not enough to sustain it. I'd paddle several hard strokes, slump over, let the boat glide to a stop, paddle several hard strokes...not fun. Also, I'm pretty stubborn. Had there been road access some where I'm still not sure if I would have called for a ride. I'm serious. There wasn't a single reasonable bail out point and I probably wouldn't have taken one any way. That sounds stupid (some times it is), but it's important information when you're getting into some thing like the safari. In training, I try to get use to the idea that the only way out is to keep moving. Doesn't matter how shitty you feel or how slow you're going. Relentless forward motion. Temporary relief from pain/discomfort isn't worth much compared to what you gain from clawing your way out of these situations. I don't think you have to be the most elite, experienced endurance athlete to see this. Just go outside and hike, bike or run until you start to feel trashed...then turn around and do it again. You'd be surprised how much further you can push yourself.

It took me a couple of days or so to “recover” from that paddle and soon after that I started using a product called Endurolyte. Endurolyte is an electrolyte powder that has every thing you need and none of the unnecessary sugar that sports drinks have. You either mix the powder into your water or you buy the capsules and pop them every hour. It works. We went out for a tougher than expected paddle (more on that later) the other weekend and didn't bring any endurolyte. After a few warm hours of paddling upstream, we wished we had.

There were, of course, some things I actually did do a good job of preparing for the CR100. My nutrition (which is hugely important in these races), hydration, rigging, and lighting all worked reasonably well. A few weeks before the race we did a night time training run on the last section of the course. La Grange to Columbus is 38 miles, it's the slowest section of the course, and all racers will end up running at least a portion of it in the dark Overall, I'd say this was a good training run. When I left the La Grange checkpoint I knew exactly what to expect, I knew exactly how boring it was going to get (haha), and most important, I knew I'd finish.

One of these days, I'll get around to writing that race report. I'm only 7 months late. For now, I'll just say that it was a hell of an experience. I met some really cool, interesting people on the river and I learned plenty. As an example, I will never again drink beer (no matter how good the beer is) the night before and coffee the morning of a race. Yea...I'll leave it at that. Also, some what related to the previous statement: stop time kills you in these races. I finished in 20:54 (almost 4 am) and about 1 hour of that was stop time. There were at least a few people that I passed multiple times on the river. My pace was a bit faster than theirs, so I'd cruise past, then when I was stopped (for what ever reason) they'd pass me. As awsome as it was to have Nick and Jimmy show up to crew for me (you guys did great) the temptation to stop at the check point to chat was too much, haha. The only long stop I had was La Grange, and I was dragging a bit when I got there. All of the little stops do add up though. Overall, I think it's better to just keep moving. You get enough of a charge just from seeing people and being cheered in and out of the check points.

Wow, I need to wrap this up. Yes, the CR100 was tough, more mentally than physically though. The pace is more of a quick cruise, nothing intense. It's the total miles and hours out there that get you. Muscles that are a little tired/sore at mile 30 are REALLY tired/sore at mile 100. After a while, you just ignore it and keeping digging. I left La Grange (mile 62) and paddled as hard as I'd paddled all day for a good 2.5-3 hours, so yea, you really can ignore it, to an extent. Mentally, it is tough at times, but if you're determined to finish, nothing on that course is going to stop you.

Next time: The Tank Canoe

The Texas Water Safari: How bad can it be..?

So...I'm a little late starting this blog. Yea, I was suppose to get this rolling a few weeks ago. What can I say? I'm easily distracted, I procrastinate (severely), and I actually do get tied up with other things from time to time. Enough excuses?

With that out of the way, I'll just jump right to it. For the next three months, this blog will be all about the “World's Toughest Canoe race” a.k.a the Texas Water Safari. Because I'm behind schedule here, I'll make a brief (half-assed) attempt at explaining what the race is and, in the next post or two, how the hell me and Matt got ourselves into this and what we're doing to prepare/train.

The Texas Water Safari is a 262 mile, non-stop, mostly unsupported river race. You have 100 hours to finish. The course starts on the San Marcos River and proceeds 85 miles to the Guadalupe River. After that, you're practically on the home stretch, just 177 more miles down the Guadalupe, into San Antonio Bay, and across the bay to Seadrift. No sweat.

You sure this is the World's Toughest Canoe race? Well, who knows really, but there are a few obstacles involved. Portages. Lots of portages. Portages in which you lift, drag, drop your 125+ lb (in our case), fully loaded canoe over and around dams, long jams, shallow sections and the occassional fallen tree. Speaking of fallen trees, the upper San Marcos has plenty of them. Some times, you just do your best to steer and bounce your way through the mine field. Other times, you don't see the little bastards until you slam into them and some one falls out of the boat. If you're really lucky, the tree will stretch across the entire river, leaving you in the shitty enviable position of deciding exactly where you want to smash into it. After that, it's just a matter of clearing the spiders out of the boat (there are ALWAYS spiders) and figuring out how to heave the heavy piece of crap over the log, before it gets swamped.

With this in mind it's fairly safe to say that the first 40 miles of the San Marcos are the most technical. If you're going to gouge, hole, or seriously damage your boat, chances are, this is where you'll do it. The real downside here is that if you're inexperienced (like us) and slow (like us) and in a slow boat (like us) you don't have a very big margin of error. The 7:00 PM cut-off at mile 40 allows for 10 hours to cover the distance. Not exactly a fast pace, but one too many screw ups on the upper river and we might not recover the time.

So, back to the “mostly” unsupported part. Your team captain is allowed to give you water and ice...that's it. Everything else you need (including the required safety gear) must be in the boat. I'm not kidding, if you drop your paddle at a checkpoint and your team captain picks it up, technically, that paddle is now out of the race. In the past, water and ice weren't even allowed, you brought as much as you could and when that ran out, you just drank the river water like a big boy.

Another thing I should mention is sleep. Keep in mind, this is a non-stop river race. Sleep or not, you're still on the clock. Among the experienced racers there are no “set in stone” rules for sleeping. You do what ever works. Some sleep in the boat (one at a time), some sleep at checkpoints, and some sleep where ever the hell they can manage. The fast teams won't sleep, they finish the race in roughly 2 days or less (much less in high water). We'll have to sleep. Our goal for the first day is to clear the San Marcos and get to the Gonzales 183 checkpoint (90 miles). This would be a good start and would buy us a little (30 minutes to 1 hour) sleep time. Beyond this, we'll have to see how it goes. Ideally, we'll go for 20+ hours, then take a short nap. A few paddlers (way at the back of the pack) might stop for 4+ hour naps, but none of the racers recommend this. You really do want to finish this race as fast as possible and limit your exposure. If a 30 minute nap is enough for a re-charge, then that's all you'll need.

Day 2. This is a big focus for me. I'm anticipating that the real race will be on day 2. The first day will be tough, but exciting. The third day and beyond, we'll be thoroughly whipped and slogging through some long, slow sections of river, but we'll also smell the finish line. Day 2...will be a grind. Hot, humid, tired, sore. Checkpoint 5 (Gonzales 183) to checkpoint 6 (Hochheim 183) is almost 40 miles. Nice way to start the day. Checkpoint 8 (Cuero 236) to checkpoint 9 (Victoria City Park) is 40 miles. If we don't train properly we'll be hating life by this point. Hell, even if we DO train properly we'll be questioning what the f*** we're doing out there.

If you do a bit of reading on the safari (highly recommended, some great stories out there) you'll come across several other “points of interest” which I haven't mentioned. For the most part, these don't concern me...much. Alligators? Yep, seen plenty. Alligator gars? A little freaky, but nothing new. Giant banana spiders? I hate those damn things, but not a concern. Hallucinations on night 2? I told you there were some great stories. Hallucinations are a very real possibility, but again, they're not on my “oh-shit-what-if” list. A rough bay? Last year, San Antonio Bay was, by most accounts, as rough as it's ever been during the safari. Races were literally won and lost in the bay. The thing is, a good portion of these boats are NOT designed for wind or waves. They're designed with one specific purpose: going fast in a straight line. If I'm correct here, at least one paddler had to be rescued in the bay, which of course, results in disqualification. Many others camped out on land to wait for calmer conditions. Some walked their boat along the seawall or through the shallows to the finish line. If our boat has any positive quality (debateable) it's stability. A rough bay will require one hell of an effort from us to keep that boat moving straight and at a decent pace, but we should have no major issues staying upright. If we do, I'll blame Matt. Not to mention, this is a shallow bay. Other than the barge canal, you're looking at 2-3 feet of water in most places. Not exactly an open water voyage across the Atlantic. We'll have some means of bailing water and probably a home-made spray skirt, so we just need to keep the boat upright and moving.

I'm sure that I've left some things out here, but as I said, I'm a bit behind and will take another couple of posts just to catch up, so you'll hear it all sooner or later. Next post, I'll try to explain how we got into this and what we've done to our tank, I mean canoe. Oh, and I will eventually post some photos.