Cheapside to Victoria: Miles 146-200

“Eric. It's been two hours and twenty minutes.” Shit! The “and twenty minutes” part snapped me awake quick. I was already worried about wasting too much time and now we'd slept for an extra twenty minutes. Seemed like a big deal. “Matt. Get up. Time to go.”

I scooped up the inflatable cushion and emergency blanket that I'd used as sleeping gear and waited for Matt to get up and moving. Taking that muscle relaxer before sleep probably wasn't the best idea. I felt a little heavy and lethargic, but at least I'd gotten a solid two hours of sleep. Eventually, we stumbled down the hill and started gearing up to push on. My shorts and compression top were still wet (obviously) from my midnight pleasure swim through the rapids. I hated the idea of putting those on in the cool, foggy, early hours, but the sooner they dried the better.

As we finished situating our food and hydration, we talked with one of the checkpoint officials. He mentioned some thing about us being right in the middle of the pack. Hmm. I guess we'd moved up a few positions, despite the slow pace, hallucinations, and lack of sleep. Not that we cared much at this point. Our main focus was getting to the next check point, and then the next, and the next...

We pushed off and began paddling into the early morning fog. I wasn't too thrilled about the lack of visibility (after our adventures earlier that night), but we'd only have a couples of hours or so before sunrise. Not to mention, this next section was the easiest we were going to see for the rest of the race: less than 15 miles of non-descript river between Cheapside and Cuero. I was starting to get a bit more excited and focused on the thought of running Cuero to Victoria. After Hocheim, Victoria was the next big milestone in my mind. Victoria is the end of the Texas River Marathon course (which I had never paddled) and the 200 mile mark. I knew there were rapids and sweepers on this section, so this seemed like our last big challenge before the log jam portage and the bay.

It's funny how little you remember some times. I recently paddled this section of the river in the Cuero Turkey Fest race. Aside from Cheapside, the rapids upstream, and the rock that knocked the paddle out of my hand, not one bit of the course looked familiar, haha. That's not surprising. Like I said, this section is mostly non-descript, with small sweepers and junk here and there. We did spot some wildlife on this section: a big vulture standing on a gravel bar with his wings spread, trying to intimidate us, and a couple of deer, maybe ten feet away on a grassy bank. Besides that, this section is nice, secluded, and a warm up for the prelim course.

Before long, we pulled up to the checkpoint and the 236 bridge in Cuero. It was still morning and I was starting to feel really good. This was mile 160, we had only 100 miles left (which seemed totally reasonable, at the time), an interesting and slightly challenging section of river ahead of us, and a relatively “short” section. Cuero to Victoria is 38 miles, BUT the Thomaston bridge is 18 miles in. So, you can have your crew meet you there, which basically gives you another checkpoint and, more importantly, a mental recharge. As far as I was concerned, today was going to be great.

Zoltan cruised past the checkpoint in his C-1, telling his team captain he was good for now. We exchanged our water jugs, took care of a couple of other things, and told Ed to meet us at Thomaston. Less than a mile from the checkpoint is one of the more technical obstacles on this section. The river swings left, with a shallow gravel bar on the inside and a nasty sweeper spanning the entire river. The water is pushy there, making that small slot through the tree a bit challenging. At night, things might have been interesting. As it was, we managed with out too much trouble.

This was another interesting example of the huge mental swings that go on during the race. As high as I was running the prelim course, Matt was hitting a low. Fatigue and pain are big factors after two days on the river, but I was starting to suspect the gps. At some point on day 2 (I think...?) Matt turned on the gps. I had been against it, only wanting use it for navigation later on. Matt was use to paddling with a gps and felt like he needed the reference to make sure we didn't slack. Sounds great, but what really happens (just like on long training runs) is you tend to focus WAY too much on the damn thing and the miles start to crawl by. “Man, turn that fucking gps off.” Not that I blamed him for the mood, but the hell with the gps. Matt flipped it over, so he couldn't see it...then got really annoyed any time I asked him what the mileage was...I asked several times.

Like the Hochheim section, I mostly remember Cuero to Victoria as one big blur, only punctuated with little events here and there to break up the monotony. Miles and miles of wide, slow river roll by with little to no signs of civilization. Although, when we finally did see a house, we got one of the biggest surprises of the race. Right there on the bank, down from one of the homes, was a big tent with a table full of water bottles and jugs, and of course, a “free water” sign for Safari racers. If the situation wasn't such a surprise, we might have been pissed at our horrible timing. As it was, we thought it was pretty damn hilarious.

Night number two had spread the pack a bit. Some teams likely pushed on, while others slept longer than we did. On the prelim course we only traded places with Travis and Zoltan. Travis started the race with his father, who dropped at Palmetto due to an injury. Travis pushed on solo and seemed determined to keep grinding away. Zoltan was making his attempt at being the oldest Safari finisher ever at 71 years. I tried to grill him for course information and mileage, but mostly he was just entertaining to listen to. Zoltan has run the Safari many times, with mixed results. As he put it, “I'm famous for breaking boats”.

Those 18 miles rolled off quickly. I was still feeling great as we pulled up to our unofficial checkpoint at the Thomaston bridge. Our crew was in the water, swimming with Zoltan's team captain. It seemed like a good time to tie the boat off and take a dip. We only spent a few minutes in the water, but it was amazing. Our crew seemed happy at the moment and Zoltan's captain told us to give him some thing to chase. Some where in there, Travis paddled in, grabbed his water, and paddled on. I managed to get a little info on where the rapids were and what to expect before the clock spurred us on. You'd be surprised what a short break like this will do. I was still high.

I'm not exactly clear on how many rapids there are on this section, I wasn't sure before the race and it's still not clear. I remember two. Neither of them was an issue. The first, we approached after swinging out wide to river right. We back paddled and slowed a bit to get a good look. It would have been easy enough to portage, if needed, but we ran them with no trouble. Later in the day, we paddled up to the second rapids with Travis. He slowed and had a good look before going in, as he was paddling a tandem boat solo, from the stern. He had no issues and neither did we. Another team in an unlimited tandem was pulled over in the rapids. They had some sort of accident. Some of their gear was in the river and I think they'd made repairs. We'd seen them making repairs earlier in the race. Obviously, the low water was causing issues. We managed to scoop up one of their water bottles down stream.

The more challenging features in this section were the sweepers. The shallow river and tight channels force you into narrow spots that are often clogged with junk. When we weren't alone, I tried to follow Travis or Zoltan into sweepers to pick up on their line, depending on how successful it was. Often, you have a choice of two routes, inside the junk or outside. If you choose wrong, you may run aground on the inside and have to portage over the gravel bar, or worse, get caught on the outside with no where to go other than straight into a pile of shit.

I know we had a few close calls and less than graceful lines, but only one stands out. There was a left turn with a shallow gravel bar on the inside. The river wants to swing you outside, however, there's a nice pile of junk right in the way, with a big log pointing back to the left. Zoltan took an inside line and slipped through. I tried to follow, but we weren't so successful. We approached from the inside and swept out further than I intended. Soon enough, we slammed sideways into the log. This is not a situation you want to be in. If the canoe tips upstream, the current rushed in, fills it with water, and either pins it to the log or sucks it under. Fortunately, we managed to push and pull until we slid past the log. Later, we'd find the damage.

Some where in that long stretch we noticed we were bailing water more often than we should be. There were no rapids since the last time we'd bailed and we hadn't been out of the canoe. We pulled over on a gravel bar and flipped that canoe. There it was, two missing rivets. More than likely, we'd knocked them out when we slammed into that sweeper. Matt wanted to dig the epoxy out and take care of it right there. I thought we'd be better off pushing on to Victoria, where we could sleep while the epoxy dried. Victoria it is.

Afternoon turned to evening and the miles started to add up. The heat was not fun. You get accustom to it after a while and only notice when your pace starts to slip and your energy evaporates. If you're really competing, you suck it up and keep paddling. In our position, you take a quick dip, just enough to cool your core down. Like the Hochheim stretch, we'd do this every time I noticed our pace dragging too much. Of course, we were always conscious of the clock and strict about limiting ourselves to a couple of minutes. At one point, we chose the wrong route, ran aground, and decided this was a good enough time to stop for a swim. Zoltan paddled up, taking the correct route, but decided to join us any way. We talked for a couple of minutes before climbing back in and pushing on.

Conditions in the evening were the first sign of what was to come in the bay, although I chose to ignore that thought at the time. The winds were picking up. Paddling into a stiff wind is never fun, especially 200 miles into a race, after a long day. We were paddling in a loose pack with Zoltan and Travis at this point. I did my best to steer us back and forth across the river, where ever there was a tall bank to shield us from the wind. It helped...slightly. Matt was not in a good mood. He was ready to get there. I had a hard time convincing him that 3 more hours wasn't that long. Hell, it was longer than I wanted to admit, but what options do you have at the time? None. You keep paddling.

As typical, those last few miles sucked. Just when you manage to convince yourself that you're almost there, you see a TWS mileage sign that shatters your hopes. “GO TWS! ONLY 1,435 miles to VICTORIA!!!” Ah, son of a bitch! It was getting close to dark at this point and I was really looking forward to slugging down a Denti Moore and taking a nap. Soon enough though, we pulled up to Victoria City Park. Seeing that “200 Miles” sign was awesome. For what ever reason, it was a big landmark for me. The remaining 60 miles seemed like a mere training run...except for the log jam and the bay, of course.

While we were trying to figure out how to haul our boat out, Zoltan pulled up, along with the tandem unlimited team. “He guys. Is this your water bottle?” They looked uneasy saying “yes”, which is understandable as, strictly speaking, assistance is not allowed. “I'm just going to set it on the bank over here.” Hey, I found a water bottle and chose to leave it on the bank. No harm, no foul.

Matt got a little impatient trying to pull the canoe onto the boat ramp...while I was still standing in it. Luckily, I fell backwards right into my seat. Probably looked more graceful than it was. We dragged the canoe up the boat ramp a bit, where we thought it would be out of the way, then flipped it over so Matt could work. I headed up the hill to check the time sheet and started shoveling down a Denti Moore. Cruising in the middle of the pack, we were always curious what was going on ahead of us in the race.

I've been told that Victoria is not a good checkpoint for sleep. I don't know about that, maybe the mosquitoes are usually bad there? We found a nice, grassy spot up the hill and laid down for a nap. I told Ed to wake us up in 1 hour. Unfortunately, I couldn't really sleep. When Ed came back after 1 hour, I told him to give us another 30 minutes. I might have slept a little that time.

It was dark now and and I felt a bit out of it. We walked back down the ramp to load our canoe up and noticed that several teams had made it in while we slept. Some were sleeping, some were hanging around the boat ramp, and some had pushed on without stopping. We hadn't really been in “race mode” up to this point...but I didn't like being passed by a pack of boats in the night. When we finally got every thing ready and back on the water, I set a hard enough pace to reel in every boat.