Highlight Reel

Wow. Hard to believe that it's been over a month since my last post. I guess things get busy at times. We're only a few weeks out from race day now and reality is starting to settle in. Almost no rain the last few months, drought conditions, very low river levels, and a serious possibility of a long brutal race. Also...we're behind on training and boat rigging. We've had a couple of decent paddles the last two weekends and we're planning on some serious paddling over these next couple of weeks. Now that my semester is over, boat rigging and preparation get some attention.

Back to business. Over the last 4 months, we've had some “entertaining” encounters and happenings on the water. Nothing remotely close to what we're likely to experience during the Safari, but blog worthy nonetheless.


The Enraged Brown Pelican

Well, he wasn't so much enraged, more likely just freaked out and injured. We were paddling intervals on the Highland Bayou Diversionary Canal (one of the most boring places to paddle...ever) and had just stopped to recover about 20 minutes upstream from the launch. I'm not sure which one of us noticed it or why it caught our attention, but there was a brown pelican standing on the shore. As we paddled closer, we noticed that he was hooked, one end of the rig hooked through his foot and the other end hooked through his neck. The way he was hooked, he couldn't fully stand or stretch out without hurting himself. We were trying to figure out what we could do to help, but we had no tools or any thing useful. There wasn't even a bank to climb out on, just mud and bushes. Matt made a grab for him and got snapped by his beak.

Nothing we could do but paddle back to the launch, make some calls, and grab some tools. So, 20 minutes back to the launch. We both jumped on the phone and called who ever we could think of. Matt had some luck with Parks and Wildlife, who gave him the number a local woman that rehabilitates animals. Their suggestion was, go back and get it, then bring it back to the launch. Haha. We weren't too optimistic about that one. I grabbed a pile of towels and a heavy rain coat, then 20 minutes back up the bayou. This time, we found him a bit further up the bayou on the opposite bank. We paddled up to him and when he turned away, I tossed the coat over him, put him in the boat, then tucked some towels around him to keep him still. Turned out, it wasn't even necessary, he was dead calm the whole way back. I had to poke him to make sure I didn't suffocate him. We met with the woman and her son at the launch. After seeing how bad he was hooked, they didn't even try to pull it out, they just took him.

What were the odds that we just happened to paddle past that guy? I doubt many people ever paddle that section of water. While knocking out a couple of intervals after this, we found another cork and hook floating down the bayou. I guess people have no problem just tossing their shit where ever they feel like. Sure, they have a good excuse. Getting up off your gigantic, flabby ass to waddle over to a trash can is pretty taxing...especially if you have to set down that can of watery “beer” you were pounding.


What Happens When You Have a Hole In Your Canoe

In our case, you get a high pressure jet of water spraying 6 feet into the air. For a number of reasons, we were WAY behind with getting our canoe rigged up for paddling. The big pile of aluminum was suppose to be ready to paddle before winter. When we finally did finish rigging, near the end of January, we couldn't wait to paddle it. So, we loaded her up and headed to the Chocolate Bayou launch. I could make a whole post about this launch site, but I'll save that for some other time.

Water levels were low at the time and the boat ramp was caked in mud, so we opted for the dock launch, which meant lowering the boat about 5 feet down to the water. Matt climbed into the bow, ready for the maiden voyage, when a high pressure jet of water starts spraying up through the canoe. Apparently, we were missing a rivet. The head of the rivet was still visible, when we flipped the canoe over, but the rest of it was gone. Damnit...

Of course, a bit of 2-part epoxy solution sealed it up pretty well, and we still got a paddle in, but it was a little frustrating at the time. We haven't had a single leak since then. We've tried really hard to destroy the canoe; dropping it off the truck (Matt's fault), dropping it ONTO my car (Matt's fault), running head-on into logs on the river (Matt's fault), running into chunks of concrete on the Brazos River (Matt's fault), but she's held together pretty well.


How Matt's Big Ass Broke the Canoe

When we removed the crappy, factory bench seats from our canoe, we installed the new sliding seats with the lightest weight aluminum tubing we could find. We were a little unsure of how well this would hold up, seeing how much the cross bracing was flexing when Matt sat up in the bow, but we figured our question would be answered sooner or later. Well, at least it happened BEFORE the Safari.

The closest river we have for training is the Brazos. It's not the nicest or most exciting river, but it does have plenty of unobstructed (relatively...), boat-traffic-free miles to paddle. We made the trek to the Brazos in late March, with a plan to launch at highway 59, paddle 4 hours upstream, then back. This was our first long paddle in the canoe and we were both a bit under-packed. I ran out of food, Matt almost ran out of water, and we didn't bring any electrolytes or repair tools (i.e. NO duct tape).

Paddling upstream was a tough workout. The river was low, but not as bas as it would be for our next paddle, so there was a constant current to fight. In some spots, the river was really shallow and channelized, so we REALLY had to dig in. If one of us stopped paddling, the canoe stopped moving. On top of that was a fairly stiff south east wind. It was at our back most of the time, pushing the canoe around, making us work even harder. By the time we got 4 hours in, to our turn around point, we were feeling it. Not enough water, not enough electrolytes, just when you think you've learned your lesson...

The paddle back down stream was rough. Cruising, like we'd hoped, was out of the question. We had some current with us, but the head wind was stiff. At some point, we decided to pull over on a gravel bar and take a break. Just before we got there, we ran through a shallow section full of concrete, almost like a mine field. Our path looked clear, until we slammed into a submerged chunk of concrete. BAM! Right in the middle of the canoe. Next thing I know, the cross brace to Matt's seat is snapped in half. We hit that chunk of concrete so hard, that Matt got tossed to his left, out of his seat, then slammed back down.

We quickly pulled over on the gravel to assess the damage. Broken seat brace, no duct tape, no tools, no zip ties. The only thing we had was the epoxy, but neither of us wanted to wait long enough for that stuff to dry. We scrounged around the gravel bar and found a short 2x4. We jammed one of our gallon water jugs and the board under the brace, where it split. It was close enough to the correct height and seemed strong enough to hold Matt up. Lucky for us. A couple hours and several fat jokes later, we limped all the way back to the launch with that shitty rigging. The next day, we replaced that cross brace with a 100 lb, 6 inch thick piece of aluminum tubing. Let's see you snap this time...

Next up, probably an entertaining tale from our upcoming paddle this weekend. Details aren't set, but we're planning on a 55 mile all-night paddle down the Brazos. We'll follow this up with another paddle on Sunday, just to add that extra bit of Safari pain. We're getting down to it now. Almost 3 weeks out.