Coming into the finish at Seadrift Texas, no big wave here but we encountered countless obstacles on this 265 mile non stop race to the Gulf through the 100 plus degree Texas heat during last summer's Texas Water Safari. 61 hours non stop, water moccasins everywhere, alligators, giant Gar jumping in the boat, fire ants, dams, stingrays, rapids, logjams, mud and darkness. 2 full days and dark nights of paddling... I hallucinated more on night 2 than many Dead shows I saw. 25th place of 172 https://youtu.be/5npEus2-Wig?si=JQluoWMtfc12op1c
Thanks!! Here's my write for one of the canoe racing rags that tells the story...
Way back, in June of 2009, I was given a copy of Canoe and Kayak magazine with an article highlighting one teams experience in a canoe race known as the Texas Water Safari, boldly boasted as the worlds’ “Toughest Canoe Race.” My good friend and longtime paddling partner, Alex, said something to the effect of “here’s one that might interest you” as he handed it to me. “No thanks!” was my near immediate reply. Looking at the pictures of 40 plus foot 6 person canoes being lowered over dams and others shooting through rapids with rocks that would shred the precious carbon and Kevlar models we use here in the northeast, I quickly dismissed this as nothing I’d ever need to do. No, thanks, indeed….
Gradually, as the years went by, and without much more thought of a canoe race in Texas at the time, I’d amassed myself a relatively modest resume of distance paddling races of my own, the Yukon River Quest, Yukon 1000, AuSable Canoe Marathon, Englands’ Devizes to Westminster, to name a few. Each one of them had its own character, its own claim to fame, but none ever claimed to challenge the “Toughest Canoe Race in the World” designation boldly self-applied by the Texans. This now intrigued me just a bit; after all, how could a 260-mile race bill itself that way over a 500- or 1000-mile race through the Yukon wilderness? Impossible it seemed that it could be more difficult….
Fast forward through a few years of steady contemplation of this “toughness claim” and I could no longer avoid finding out for myself whether this bold statement had any merit, or not. There was only one way to find out… Thus began a several year process of finding the right team, as well as timing, to ensure adequate preparation and time off. My long-time paddling partner, Ed and I figured that a C4 team may be the best way, providing the right balance between horsepower alongside camaraderie and efficiency on the water. Almost exclusively it was advised by those that know that we have at least one person on our team who was experienced on the course and would know the river. We ignored this advice after consideration, opting to go for a team we were comfortable with as well as avoiding the difficult logistics of training with someone who would likely be thousands of miles away. We had a very short list of others to ask but didn’t have to look any farther down the list as our first choices surprisingly jumped at the opportunity. With Deb and Kevin on board, being long-time members of our paddling community and NY residents, we felt we had a good balanced team that were all willing to jump on this challenge. We were fortunate to also get Rich and Teresa as pit support, not only very experienced paddlers but also very experienced as Pit Crew, having worked together pitting for the AuSable Canoe Marathon. We have all spent a good deal of time on the water together. They would prove to be an invaluable asset to our success.
After a long spring of independent training as well as a few races together we all arrived in Texas over a week before the race. This ensured us a good bit of time to get to know our rented Texas C4 as well as explore some of the trickier portions of the course. A narrow but very sturdy, well reinforced carbon boat seemed to fit the bill perfectly. With some expert local advice in hand, we opted to do the first 50 miles or so, plus a bit of the downriver portions we would likely encounter at night as well as trying out the boats spray skirts in the massive waves that the gulf bay crossing could throw at us. This also gave us a good deal of time just to acclimate to the temperatures which would be close to 100 during the daytime for the duration of the race. The upper river is characterized by rapids, dams, twisty hairpin turns and tight channels, sometimes squeaking thorough single file openings. We practiced a few of these several times to get them right. The lower river widens out a bit as it takes on volume and heads toward the Gulf. Poisonous snakes and spiders seemed to be frequent wildlife concerns, but we also encountered entire herds of cattle in the river, bringing things to a grinding halt. Alligators and giant Gar made for interesting viewing further down and we had several fish jump into the boat during our race.
Our well-seasoned pit captains and some family arrived on Thursday before the race so we could review logistics with them and get organized. Pit support can provide hydration, nutrition as well as medical attention but nothing else. Over the course of 260 miles and through sweltering heat, this would prove to be quite an undertaking just to keep us supplied with fluids. Gear sorted, checklists completed, and pit plans mapped out, we hit the start line ready for a 9 am start on Saturday, June 8th. Fortunately, being an out of state team that signed up early, we were afforded a spot in the 2nd row of the starting line. This would give us the best chance to get into the first portage, a mere half mile into the race, before any long lines formed. My understanding is that you could be waiting many minutes at that portage to get through.
Nerves racing, we got off the starting line fast and were able to get through the first portage without an issue, although canoeing seems to be a contact sport here in Texas! 3 clear spots to exit the boat but only one spot to get back in made for some early excitement! Another mile or so downstream is the Rio Vista Dam, a spectator hotspot. Not quite the thousands at the start of AuSable, but it was close. This section is characterized by 3 sets of rapids that can wreak all kinds of havoc on teams, many capsizing or swimming their boats through the rapids. Not wanting to risk a yard sale capsize so early in the race, we opted to carry the first 2 rapids and then hit the 3rd. This was a flawless move as we made it through perfectly, although I was hit by a boat in the ribs here at some point that would bother me for the rest of the race and for over a week afterward. I could feel its reminder with every left sided paddle stroke I made.
After another dam portage a short distance downstream, we settled into a rhythm and pace that was sustainable for a distance race such as this, passing some boats while some others passed us. This set up a leapfrog group of familiar faces at a similar pace that we would spend the next several days exchanging places with, adding to the camaraderie, as most were very pleasant people and very encouraging to us newcomers. Words of encouragement and motivation were shared between boats throughout the weekend. We got through the initial checkpoints and on to nightfall without a hitch, enjoying the challenges as they presented themselves. Everybody was in good spirits; our progress was good, and our pit support was flawless. We tried to arrange our pits for every 3 hours or so but there were some sections of river where this was impossible due to access, requiring us to take multiple jugs to bridge the longer distances.
Securing our lights to the boat at the Palmetto bridge pit stop, we headed off into the fading daylight, laying way back just to fit under the low bridge. Here things got interesting….. When we practiced this section just a few short days before, the water was significantly higher. Now it became a challenge just to stay in enough current to not run aground. This is where our inexperience on this river took a bit of a toll. Not only do we not know the river well, but the darkness made it tougher to set up our approach lines early enough to avoid walking the boat(something we inevitably did dozens of times that night). The remote control for the light was not functioning either, making it difficult to turn off when behind other boats but most people didn’t seem to mind much. Eventually we made it through the slog of night one, albeit it at a significantly reduced pace than we had hoped.
Day 2 quickly warmed up into the high 90s, and we settled into a pattern of stopping every hour or 2 just to submerge our bodies in the river. Oddly, the bathwater temps didn’t provide much relief, however the evaporative cooling once paddling again made it quite pleasant. This also gave our bodies a chance to stand up for a moment as well as heed natures call, if needed. Stopping at the pits, we were greeted with pitchers of ice-cold water dumped on our heads and our jugs filled to the brims with ice for drinking. These insulated jugs kept ice cold for hours, a definite plus for us. In addition to the fluids and foods, our pit crew also provided us with long knee socks stuffed with ice cubes(allowed under the rules as “medical assistance”) that we draped around our necks. These provided several hours of relief from the heat. We setup seat 2 to accommodate a bit of sleeping and rotated ourselves through until we each had gotten 20 minutes of rest during the heat of the day. Not much as far as sleeping goes, but it really recharged the batteries.
The river got much bigger here as we had moved well past the confluence of the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers overnight, continuing downriver as the Guadalupe River. This made current finding a bit easier but also added in several big rapids and some dangerous sweepers that really kept us on our toes. As we headed in toward nightfall, I grew a bit concerned as we were very alone at this point(we had a few lights to follow the night before), as well as the potential for the sweepers we were encountering to surprise us. Several trouble spots caused us a bit of an issue, including a solid capsize as it became difficult to see the concrete block in the river we collided with. This was an epic moment for sure, as we all came together to right the boat, bail it out and recover our gear in complete darkness. Tragedy narrowly averted. While our light provided great illumination (which fortunately remained secure during our collision), and the river sounds alerted us to the rapids, it was sometimes difficult to know how the river would flow. Maybe this is why teams always opt to have someone who knows the river, hmm?
Through the most difficult portion of this overnight, we took to stopping and scouting lines as the mind plays tricks with the lights causing it to seem like there were drops where there were not as well as altering depth perception due to the hallucinatory effects that we were all succumbing to. Sometimes the river seemed to be going uphill while other times it seemed to drop quickly. While we were all experienced night paddlers, the river conditions and obstacles encountered brought it to another level. As we pulled off to the side for a moment allowing a boat to approach from behind, they asked, matter of factly, “Are the hallucinations getting to you a bit?” Guess you can set your watch by them here in Texas.
At one point, late into the night, while scouting a sweeper above Victoria, we heard a kayaker screaming for help up ahead and found him and his boat pinned beneath a tree. His boat was damaged and his race over, but we were fortunate to be there to help free him. While climbing along the tree and bank to avoid getting swept into the tree myself, I couldn’t help remembering all the snakes I had seen in the water above this section, although fortunately we avoided them, by some stroke of luck. I commented at one point that this entire night was like a bad acid trip. Pulling into the Victoria checkpoint could not have come at a better time, we all needed a break from what had been a pretty harrowing overnight. Ed, in the stern, had been trying to throw up unsuccessfully for hours and was having back spasms while the rest of us just needed a break in the action and hopefully allow daylight to provide some reality(or at least lessen the hallucinations, we were all seeing complete insanity in the trees and rock walls as we past them, “Hey, wait til you guys see this castle up ahead!”)
After a good 30-minute break in Victoria, we headed out into daybreak for the infamous log jams we had been hearing so much about. The first we encountered required a 45 degree scramble up a very muddy hill followed by an equally muddy and steep descent back into the river a hundred yards or so downstream. I’m not sure what it is about the properties of Texan mud, but I can only say this: It is impossible to walk in it and remain standing and you better have your shoelaces tied tightly. Now add in the 45-degree angle and the fact that you need to get your boat up this and you have quite possibly the most difficult portage I’ve ever seen. Everyone has their moment to shine in a race like this. Fortunately for us, Kevin was not going to be beaten down by this section and took the bull by the horns and got on top of the hill to pull as we pushed from below. Here we also encountered a Honey Locust tree, with 6-inch thorn spikes that you didn’t want to be anywhere near falling onto. I’m still not quite sure how we ever got our boat up that hill and there is no way to describe this section adequately to someone who hasn’t seen it, but somehow, we made it back into the river.
From here to the next log jam lay many hours of tedious mind-numbing paddling. Nothing of any significance or particularly challenging but just a long slog through another hot day. Everything in Texas seems much further than estimated. In fact, we joked that each Texas mile is more like 3 miles. We were sitting well behind our projected times at this point, due mostly to the slow overnight progress over the 2 nights, a frustration that was threatening to eat away at us as a team. Trying to keep a positive spin became difficult. Often in ultra distance racing, the most difficult obstacles are the ones that occur in your mind, sometimes it becomes a battle just to focus on the task at hand. There exists in every race of any distance a “low” point, usually towards the end of the race but when there is still a significant amount of water to cover. We were solidly within that phenomenon here. But every mile covered was one more mile closer to the finish. So, we did what we all knew how to do: we just dug in and pushed forward.
Hours later, and by another stroke of luck, we arrived at the second log jam behind a few boats who knew the way through the offshoot maze of ditches known as the “cuts.” There is no way over this main river log jam, it is supposedly miles of logs and fallen trees, existing here for so long that a small collateral stream formed around them. The anecdote we head from locals is that these “cuts can either save you 2 hours of paddling or cost you 12.” Not a particularly encouraging sign for us novices here! My faulty impression/expectation here was that this would be the equivalent of paddling easily through a drain ditch around a log jam (that we never actually saw). Reality, however, was that this was a log choked mess that required multiple exits from the boat to lift above downed trees and limbs, often in deep fast-moving water and more of that famed Texas mud. Was there any part of this course that didn’t come with extra challenges? Losing sight of the boats in front of us as we had a much bigger boat to get through was nerve wracking, this was nowhere to be lost, if we took a wrong turn, we may never be passed by another boat to correct our course. Fortunately, we gradually made it out to what seemed like the main river again after an hour or so. It was a bit surprising to us as the river seemed to have lost a lot of volume from upstream but looking at the map, we concluded that much of that water must end up in the maze of cuts and Alligator Lake off to our right. Now we had to get down to the saltwater barrier and on to the RV park where we would get one last pit before making the bay crossing to the finish.
The Saltwater Barrier is a dam that prevents saltwater from moving upstream during low water periods. Many years, it can be paddled over without stopping. Of course, that wouldn’t be the case for us, as we had to carry over before we could get to our final pit at Calhouns RV Park. Arriving there, we must’ve looked like quite a sight, having climbed through our new favorite brand of mud on several occasions since our last pit. Here we attempted to lighten the load for our bay crossing, ditching all gear and food besides our water jugs and lights. We donned our PFDs and put on spray skirts at the Wooden Bridge checkpoint before heading out along the alligator and snake infested banks as we moved toward the Bay. While most gators we encountered were smaller juveniles, we did see one floating near us that was in the 9’ range. The snakes along the shoreline in this section, however, were massive. Here we also found all the mosquitoes in Texas, they even bite through clothing here.
After what seemed like an eternity, we emerged onto the bay just as sunset was giving way to darkness. Immense in size, it’s hard to determine where exactly to go but we just picked a point at the far end of the barrier island that divided the bay and formed the barge canal. While the waves weren’t quite as big as we had experienced here during our practice run, no one was quite on their “A game” at this point, so we just paddled onward, trying to hold course and navigate the waves. Rounding the far point of the barrier island, the lights of the finish line park came into view, and we were able to focus on a line. We knew there were reefs/islands in this section but had a difficult time seeing them so ended up running aground a mile or so from the finish. Pushing off, our nerves shot, we plowed forward to cheering in the distance. As we came into the floodlights, a surreal experience, we knew we were done. Everything we had left in the tank went into getting us to the buoys that marked the finish line.
Here we were greeted by what seemed like hundreds of spectators, our pit crew, and some family members. My wife, daughters, brother-in-law, and his daughter all cheerfully greeted us at the water, collecting shells as mementos. Completely drained, it was hard to avoid the emotions felt as we climbed up the boat ramp for pictures under the finish line banner. Even standing and walking was difficult at this point, Race Director Bob Spain pointed out to me that this was known as the “Texas Lean.” Ed seemed to be demonstrating how to do it for us correctly as we supported each other for the photos.
61 hours after this adventure began, we crossed the finish line in 26th place overall. We were not completely unscathed, but all walked away a lifetime of memories in what had proven to be a very difficult but rewarding accomplishment. One thing was certain, all were in full agreement that none of this would have been possible without the amazing commitment and support of our absolutely stellar Pit Captains, Rich and Teresa, as much members of our team as anyone in the boat. Having some family there to cheer us on and to be at the finish line meant a lot, also. By far the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, I finally was able to confirm, firsthand, that the Texas Water Safari is indeed “The Toughest Canoe Race in the world.”
Yes bold choice for sure, that decision was not made lightly but in our experience, cohesive personalities are an absolute must
thanks for the offer, good pit crew are tough to come by!
there were 172 teams entered, 159(I think) that made the starting line and I believe 120 or so that finished. We were the 26th boat across the line but ended up in 25th place after a kayaker was penalized for receiving a replacement paddle that she wasn't carrying in the boat.
Kind of an afterthought to this but i thought maybe you all might appreciate this video, and it's musical connection...it follows Townes Van Zandt son JT Van Zandt(a complete bad ass in his own right) along this race and his first time partner(an Olympic paddler herself) as she experiences the course for the first time
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: fishcane
Coming into the finish at Seadrift Texas, no big wave here but we encountered countless obstacles on this 265 mile non stop race to the Gulf through the 100 plus degree Texas heat during last summer's Texas Water Safari. 61 hours non stop, water moccasins everywhere, alligators, giant Gar jumping in the boat, fire ants, dams, stingrays, rapids, logjams, mud and darkness. 2 full days and dark nights of paddling... I hallucinated more on night 2 than many Dead shows I saw. 25th place of 172
https://youtu.be/5npEus2-Wig?si=JQluoWMtfc12op1c
So yes, I can canoe
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Gheenoe is what I do
Gheenoe is what I do
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: GoneGoodbye
I canoe can u?
I canoe can u?
Used to have a tshirt with that on it, came with my 17ft Grumman!
Also, took a ride in an ocean kayak at the Outer Banks whilst there was a hurricane offshore.
Wound up just about the same!
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Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: Zzzzzz
Fish - meant to comment on
Fish - meant to comment on this a while ago. Super impressive. Would love to hear more one day. Do it while you can, getting old sucks.
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: fishcane
Thanks!! Here's my write for
Thanks!! Here's my write for one of the canoe racing rags that tells the story...
Way back, in June of 2009, I was given a copy of Canoe and Kayak magazine with an article highlighting one teams experience in a canoe race known as the Texas Water Safari, boldly boasted as the worlds’ “Toughest Canoe Race.” My good friend and longtime paddling partner, Alex, said something to the effect of “here’s one that might interest you” as he handed it to me. “No thanks!” was my near immediate reply. Looking at the pictures of 40 plus foot 6 person canoes being lowered over dams and others shooting through rapids with rocks that would shred the precious carbon and Kevlar models we use here in the northeast, I quickly dismissed this as nothing I’d ever need to do. No, thanks, indeed….
Gradually, as the years went by, and without much more thought of a canoe race in Texas at the time, I’d amassed myself a relatively modest resume of distance paddling races of my own, the Yukon River Quest, Yukon 1000, AuSable Canoe Marathon, Englands’ Devizes to Westminster, to name a few. Each one of them had its own character, its own claim to fame, but none ever claimed to challenge the “Toughest Canoe Race in the World” designation boldly self-applied by the Texans. This now intrigued me just a bit; after all, how could a 260-mile race bill itself that way over a 500- or 1000-mile race through the Yukon wilderness? Impossible it seemed that it could be more difficult….
Fast forward through a few years of steady contemplation of this “toughness claim” and I could no longer avoid finding out for myself whether this bold statement had any merit, or not. There was only one way to find out… Thus began a several year process of finding the right team, as well as timing, to ensure adequate preparation and time off. My long-time paddling partner, Ed and I figured that a C4 team may be the best way, providing the right balance between horsepower alongside camaraderie and efficiency on the water. Almost exclusively it was advised by those that know that we have at least one person on our team who was experienced on the course and would know the river. We ignored this advice after consideration, opting to go for a team we were comfortable with as well as avoiding the difficult logistics of training with someone who would likely be thousands of miles away. We had a very short list of others to ask but didn’t have to look any farther down the list as our first choices surprisingly jumped at the opportunity. With Deb and Kevin on board, being long-time members of our paddling community and NY residents, we felt we had a good balanced team that were all willing to jump on this challenge. We were fortunate to also get Rich and Teresa as pit support, not only very experienced paddlers but also very experienced as Pit Crew, having worked together pitting for the AuSable Canoe Marathon. We have all spent a good deal of time on the water together. They would prove to be an invaluable asset to our success.
After a long spring of independent training as well as a few races together we all arrived in Texas over a week before the race. This ensured us a good bit of time to get to know our rented Texas C4 as well as explore some of the trickier portions of the course. A narrow but very sturdy, well reinforced carbon boat seemed to fit the bill perfectly. With some expert local advice in hand, we opted to do the first 50 miles or so, plus a bit of the downriver portions we would likely encounter at night as well as trying out the boats spray skirts in the massive waves that the gulf bay crossing could throw at us. This also gave us a good deal of time just to acclimate to the temperatures which would be close to 100 during the daytime for the duration of the race. The upper river is characterized by rapids, dams, twisty hairpin turns and tight channels, sometimes squeaking thorough single file openings. We practiced a few of these several times to get them right. The lower river widens out a bit as it takes on volume and heads toward the Gulf. Poisonous snakes and spiders seemed to be frequent wildlife concerns, but we also encountered entire herds of cattle in the river, bringing things to a grinding halt. Alligators and giant Gar made for interesting viewing further down and we had several fish jump into the boat during our race.
Our well-seasoned pit captains and some family arrived on Thursday before the race so we could review logistics with them and get organized. Pit support can provide hydration, nutrition as well as medical attention but nothing else. Over the course of 260 miles and through sweltering heat, this would prove to be quite an undertaking just to keep us supplied with fluids. Gear sorted, checklists completed, and pit plans mapped out, we hit the start line ready for a 9 am start on Saturday, June 8th. Fortunately, being an out of state team that signed up early, we were afforded a spot in the 2nd row of the starting line. This would give us the best chance to get into the first portage, a mere half mile into the race, before any long lines formed. My understanding is that you could be waiting many minutes at that portage to get through.
Nerves racing, we got off the starting line fast and were able to get through the first portage without an issue, although canoeing seems to be a contact sport here in Texas! 3 clear spots to exit the boat but only one spot to get back in made for some early excitement! Another mile or so downstream is the Rio Vista Dam, a spectator hotspot. Not quite the thousands at the start of AuSable, but it was close. This section is characterized by 3 sets of rapids that can wreak all kinds of havoc on teams, many capsizing or swimming their boats through the rapids. Not wanting to risk a yard sale capsize so early in the race, we opted to carry the first 2 rapids and then hit the 3rd. This was a flawless move as we made it through perfectly, although I was hit by a boat in the ribs here at some point that would bother me for the rest of the race and for over a week afterward. I could feel its reminder with every left sided paddle stroke I made.
After another dam portage a short distance downstream, we settled into a rhythm and pace that was sustainable for a distance race such as this, passing some boats while some others passed us. This set up a leapfrog group of familiar faces at a similar pace that we would spend the next several days exchanging places with, adding to the camaraderie, as most were very pleasant people and very encouraging to us newcomers. Words of encouragement and motivation were shared between boats throughout the weekend. We got through the initial checkpoints and on to nightfall without a hitch, enjoying the challenges as they presented themselves. Everybody was in good spirits; our progress was good, and our pit support was flawless. We tried to arrange our pits for every 3 hours or so but there were some sections of river where this was impossible due to access, requiring us to take multiple jugs to bridge the longer distances.
Securing our lights to the boat at the Palmetto bridge pit stop, we headed off into the fading daylight, laying way back just to fit under the low bridge. Here things got interesting….. When we practiced this section just a few short days before, the water was significantly higher. Now it became a challenge just to stay in enough current to not run aground. This is where our inexperience on this river took a bit of a toll. Not only do we not know the river well, but the darkness made it tougher to set up our approach lines early enough to avoid walking the boat(something we inevitably did dozens of times that night). The remote control for the light was not functioning either, making it difficult to turn off when behind other boats but most people didn’t seem to mind much. Eventually we made it through the slog of night one, albeit it at a significantly reduced pace than we had hoped.
Day 2 quickly warmed up into the high 90s, and we settled into a pattern of stopping every hour or 2 just to submerge our bodies in the river. Oddly, the bathwater temps didn’t provide much relief, however the evaporative cooling once paddling again made it quite pleasant. This also gave our bodies a chance to stand up for a moment as well as heed natures call, if needed. Stopping at the pits, we were greeted with pitchers of ice-cold water dumped on our heads and our jugs filled to the brims with ice for drinking. These insulated jugs kept ice cold for hours, a definite plus for us. In addition to the fluids and foods, our pit crew also provided us with long knee socks stuffed with ice cubes(allowed under the rules as “medical assistance”) that we draped around our necks. These provided several hours of relief from the heat. We setup seat 2 to accommodate a bit of sleeping and rotated ourselves through until we each had gotten 20 minutes of rest during the heat of the day. Not much as far as sleeping goes, but it really recharged the batteries.
The river got much bigger here as we had moved well past the confluence of the San Marcos and Guadalupe rivers overnight, continuing downriver as the Guadalupe River. This made current finding a bit easier but also added in several big rapids and some dangerous sweepers that really kept us on our toes. As we headed in toward nightfall, I grew a bit concerned as we were very alone at this point(we had a few lights to follow the night before), as well as the potential for the sweepers we were encountering to surprise us. Several trouble spots caused us a bit of an issue, including a solid capsize as it became difficult to see the concrete block in the river we collided with. This was an epic moment for sure, as we all came together to right the boat, bail it out and recover our gear in complete darkness. Tragedy narrowly averted. While our light provided great illumination (which fortunately remained secure during our collision), and the river sounds alerted us to the rapids, it was sometimes difficult to know how the river would flow. Maybe this is why teams always opt to have someone who knows the river, hmm?
Through the most difficult portion of this overnight, we took to stopping and scouting lines as the mind plays tricks with the lights causing it to seem like there were drops where there were not as well as altering depth perception due to the hallucinatory effects that we were all succumbing to. Sometimes the river seemed to be going uphill while other times it seemed to drop quickly. While we were all experienced night paddlers, the river conditions and obstacles encountered brought it to another level. As we pulled off to the side for a moment allowing a boat to approach from behind, they asked, matter of factly, “Are the hallucinations getting to you a bit?” Guess you can set your watch by them here in Texas.
At one point, late into the night, while scouting a sweeper above Victoria, we heard a kayaker screaming for help up ahead and found him and his boat pinned beneath a tree. His boat was damaged and his race over, but we were fortunate to be there to help free him. While climbing along the tree and bank to avoid getting swept into the tree myself, I couldn’t help remembering all the snakes I had seen in the water above this section, although fortunately we avoided them, by some stroke of luck. I commented at one point that this entire night was like a bad acid trip. Pulling into the Victoria checkpoint could not have come at a better time, we all needed a break from what had been a pretty harrowing overnight. Ed, in the stern, had been trying to throw up unsuccessfully for hours and was having back spasms while the rest of us just needed a break in the action and hopefully allow daylight to provide some reality(or at least lessen the hallucinations, we were all seeing complete insanity in the trees and rock walls as we past them, “Hey, wait til you guys see this castle up ahead!”)
After a good 30-minute break in Victoria, we headed out into daybreak for the infamous log jams we had been hearing so much about. The first we encountered required a 45 degree scramble up a very muddy hill followed by an equally muddy and steep descent back into the river a hundred yards or so downstream. I’m not sure what it is about the properties of Texan mud, but I can only say this: It is impossible to walk in it and remain standing and you better have your shoelaces tied tightly. Now add in the 45-degree angle and the fact that you need to get your boat up this and you have quite possibly the most difficult portage I’ve ever seen. Everyone has their moment to shine in a race like this. Fortunately for us, Kevin was not going to be beaten down by this section and took the bull by the horns and got on top of the hill to pull as we pushed from below. Here we also encountered a Honey Locust tree, with 6-inch thorn spikes that you didn’t want to be anywhere near falling onto. I’m still not quite sure how we ever got our boat up that hill and there is no way to describe this section adequately to someone who hasn’t seen it, but somehow, we made it back into the river.
From here to the next log jam lay many hours of tedious mind-numbing paddling. Nothing of any significance or particularly challenging but just a long slog through another hot day. Everything in Texas seems much further than estimated. In fact, we joked that each Texas mile is more like 3 miles. We were sitting well behind our projected times at this point, due mostly to the slow overnight progress over the 2 nights, a frustration that was threatening to eat away at us as a team. Trying to keep a positive spin became difficult. Often in ultra distance racing, the most difficult obstacles are the ones that occur in your mind, sometimes it becomes a battle just to focus on the task at hand. There exists in every race of any distance a “low” point, usually towards the end of the race but when there is still a significant amount of water to cover. We were solidly within that phenomenon here. But every mile covered was one more mile closer to the finish. So, we did what we all knew how to do: we just dug in and pushed forward.
Hours later, and by another stroke of luck, we arrived at the second log jam behind a few boats who knew the way through the offshoot maze of ditches known as the “cuts.” There is no way over this main river log jam, it is supposedly miles of logs and fallen trees, existing here for so long that a small collateral stream formed around them. The anecdote we head from locals is that these “cuts can either save you 2 hours of paddling or cost you 12.” Not a particularly encouraging sign for us novices here! My faulty impression/expectation here was that this would be the equivalent of paddling easily through a drain ditch around a log jam (that we never actually saw). Reality, however, was that this was a log choked mess that required multiple exits from the boat to lift above downed trees and limbs, often in deep fast-moving water and more of that famed Texas mud. Was there any part of this course that didn’t come with extra challenges? Losing sight of the boats in front of us as we had a much bigger boat to get through was nerve wracking, this was nowhere to be lost, if we took a wrong turn, we may never be passed by another boat to correct our course. Fortunately, we gradually made it out to what seemed like the main river again after an hour or so. It was a bit surprising to us as the river seemed to have lost a lot of volume from upstream but looking at the map, we concluded that much of that water must end up in the maze of cuts and Alligator Lake off to our right. Now we had to get down to the saltwater barrier and on to the RV park where we would get one last pit before making the bay crossing to the finish.
The Saltwater Barrier is a dam that prevents saltwater from moving upstream during low water periods. Many years, it can be paddled over without stopping. Of course, that wouldn’t be the case for us, as we had to carry over before we could get to our final pit at Calhouns RV Park. Arriving there, we must’ve looked like quite a sight, having climbed through our new favorite brand of mud on several occasions since our last pit. Here we attempted to lighten the load for our bay crossing, ditching all gear and food besides our water jugs and lights. We donned our PFDs and put on spray skirts at the Wooden Bridge checkpoint before heading out along the alligator and snake infested banks as we moved toward the Bay. While most gators we encountered were smaller juveniles, we did see one floating near us that was in the 9’ range. The snakes along the shoreline in this section, however, were massive. Here we also found all the mosquitoes in Texas, they even bite through clothing here.
After what seemed like an eternity, we emerged onto the bay just as sunset was giving way to darkness. Immense in size, it’s hard to determine where exactly to go but we just picked a point at the far end of the barrier island that divided the bay and formed the barge canal. While the waves weren’t quite as big as we had experienced here during our practice run, no one was quite on their “A game” at this point, so we just paddled onward, trying to hold course and navigate the waves. Rounding the far point of the barrier island, the lights of the finish line park came into view, and we were able to focus on a line. We knew there were reefs/islands in this section but had a difficult time seeing them so ended up running aground a mile or so from the finish. Pushing off, our nerves shot, we plowed forward to cheering in the distance. As we came into the floodlights, a surreal experience, we knew we were done. Everything we had left in the tank went into getting us to the buoys that marked the finish line.
Here we were greeted by what seemed like hundreds of spectators, our pit crew, and some family members. My wife, daughters, brother-in-law, and his daughter all cheerfully greeted us at the water, collecting shells as mementos. Completely drained, it was hard to avoid the emotions felt as we climbed up the boat ramp for pictures under the finish line banner. Even standing and walking was difficult at this point, Race Director Bob Spain pointed out to me that this was known as the “Texas Lean.” Ed seemed to be demonstrating how to do it for us correctly as we supported each other for the photos.
61 hours after this adventure began, we crossed the finish line in 26th place overall. We were not completely unscathed, but all walked away a lifetime of memories in what had proven to be a very difficult but rewarding accomplishment. One thing was certain, all were in full agreement that none of this would have been possible without the amazing commitment and support of our absolutely stellar Pit Captains, Rich and Teresa, as much members of our team as anyone in the boat. Having some family there to cheer us on and to be at the finish line meant a lot, also. By far the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, I finally was able to confirm, firsthand, that the Texas Water Safari is indeed “The Toughest Canoe Race in the world.”
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: fishcane
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Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: Zzzzzz
Wow - nice write up. Great
Wow - nice write up. Great stuff. If you need a bigger support team next time let me know. I can't paddle but I can drive and hand off water. :)
>>>we ignored this advice after consideration
bold choice
Quite familiar with the honey locust thorns.
How many teams entered?
I wonder if going a few days early and sorting through the log jam with fresh eyes would be helpful - sounds like you got lucky.
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: Floating Flasher
im just here for the smexi
im just here for the smexi pix
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: fishcane
Yes bold choice for sure,
Yes bold choice for sure, that decision was not made lightly but in our experience, cohesive personalities are an absolute must
thanks for the offer, good pit crew are tough to come by!
there were 172 teams entered, 159(I think) that made the starting line and I believe 120 or so that finished. We were the 26th boat across the line but ended up in 25th place after a kayaker was penalized for receiving a replacement paddle that she wasn't carrying in the boat.
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: Semolina Pilchard
> I quickly dismissed this
> I quickly dismissed this as nothing I’d ever need to do.
That would have been the end of the story for me right there. Paddling in Texas? Nope.
Thanks for sharing this, fishcane. Reading it made me uncomfortable, but only vicariously.
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: fishcane
Kind of an afterthought to
Kind of an afterthought to this but i thought maybe you all might appreciate this video, and it's musical connection...it follows Townes Van Zandt son JT Van Zandt(a complete bad ass in his own right) along this race and his first time partner(an Olympic paddler herself) as she experiences the course for the first time
https://youtu.be/5t6HSBQmgN0?si=En_is_tuy5LwCBXW
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: |-|/-\|_|_
Baddass, Fishcane!
Baddass, Fishcane!
Sold my Navarro 16' Loon years ago in favor of kayaks for the wife and I
Really miss the feeling of paddling a canoe, though...
Top of Page Bottom of Page PermalinkFull Name: treat island
Your article and photos, the
Your article and photos, the video, wow - great and pretty terrible.