Monday, November 8, 2010

Looking at new gear

If you read this blog off and on, you'll know that I'm a sucker for new gear that looks useful for sea kayaking. Reading this month's Sea Kayaker magazine, I discovered Aussie company CGear and their very cool sand mats. Some of my favourite kayak camping is on a beach, overlooking North Carolina's great coastal waters. But pitching a tent on sand, and traipsing damp sand through all my tent gear's a pain. CGear's small 1.8meter squared (6'x6') mat looks as though it just may do the trick--sand falls through the mat and doesn't came back up again.

These mats should also be perfect for our WaterTribe Everglades Challenge. Throw the mat out, strip off, clear all the sand off the damp, tired body, and jump into my pit--this should make for much better in-and-out procedures.

The small mat weighs 1.65kg (3.65lbs), which sounds just fine.

I'll keep you posted...

Friday, June 25, 2010

Round balls

Now that New Zealand's All Whites are on their way home after a rather fabulous showing at the World Cup--one of only four countries in the history of the World Cup to have not lost a game and not to go forward to the next round--it's interesting that Kiwis are finally showing some interest in the round ball game of football. The oval ball associated with rugby is usually the foremost sport in most Kiwi's minds, or perhaps the much smaller, hard red ball of cricket.

But recent photos from home remind me that netball is still one of the top three--perhaps four--sports in NZ. While there are international women's teams in football, rugby and cricket--and even female jockeys and yachties--no men play netball.

It was one of my sports growing up, along with softball, tennis, football and field hockey (just plain "hockey" in NZ). I well remember wearing my black, pleated tunic uniform, with GA on my bib (Goal Attack, for the uninitiated).

Both my nieces play NZ netball, the older of the two playing very competitively. One day, I hope both may have the chance to play for the Silver Ferns, NZ's national netball team.

Monday, June 14, 2010

The past is B&W

My brother Rob, in NZ, has bought a fancy new scanner to scan the hundreds of photos he's borrowed from dad. Taken from the 1920s to around the 1970s, they cover 50 years of dad and mum's history.

With dad and my sister Clio, we've been trying to fill in the gaps of who's who. With mum dying in late 2001 and dad at 89, we're testing all our memories.

Above is dad (9) and his sister Beth (11), 1930, on their way to the Matapihi Native School; and below, dad in 1941 (20), with his new bike, shortly before heading off to the Pacific for WWII.

All good stuff.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Getting around to it...

It's taken nearly five years of planning and procrastination, but today I finally threw away the plastic barriers (above) held together with scavenged piping, bricks and old broom handles that I have called a sorry excuse for a 'gate', ostensibly to keep the dogs in leading up to the pool at the top of the driveway.

And I built a new 'gate'--one to be fairly proud of--and no rain was going to stop me hanging the hinges as the clock ticked on past cold beer time and being called for tea.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

On the (edge of the) water

Another great weekend with Andrew caravanning in the '72 Shasta. Decided last minute to go straight after work to Jordan Lake on Friday instead of Saturday, to get the most out of the terrific weather. And attract more ticks...

Across the way from Greensboro was Larry and his Brazilian wife, both keen fisher folk, who took Andrew under their rods and introduced him to the concept of really catching fish.

And Saturday night, Nancy and David (Floatsome) and Dawn (SandyBottom) and Paul (DancesWithSandyBottom) joined us for dinner.

Just as we were sadly packing up later Sunday afternoon (one of us actually crying that he did not want to leave, actively trying to unpack his bike), Dawn turned up in full sailing regalia, having hopped off their Core Sound 20 Dawn Patrol, to say, "Ahoy".

Counting the days 'til the next trip...

Friday, June 4, 2010

Memories on Memorial Day

Went caravaning again this past weekend--four lovely days over Memorial Weekend at Lake Jordan's Poplar Point.

I can't yet get Andrew into a kayak, but he does like to sit in a sit-on-top (courtesy of Doug-up-the-road), when it's firmly grounded.

Fishing is his big thing now. Teach a kid (3) to fish, and you have time to either fish with them, or even read a book. He has his cast pretty well off pat, which is a fine thing to see. The patience will come--playing with the live bait can sometimes be a bit more fun.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Fly about

I'd much rather compliment than complain, but sometimes one is just driven to find the correct online outlet to vent one's ire.

That was me this morning, after being told by an American Airlines gate/desk representative at La Guardia yesterday afternoon, that stand by doesn't exist anymore and I would have to pay $50 to get a seat on an hour's earlier flight returning to RDU/home.

I trudged off and bought a cup of tea, and went back again to double check that I heard correctly. And I had. My response was that I'm already a customer, and there are spare seats, so why can't you just put me on an earlier flight? No go.

So I wrote to AA this morning with my complaint. I have to admit, they served me well in response. I can't be the only person today complaining about AA (surely?), but a personal e-mail was only an hour or so in return.

I believe their answer sucks, as below (this was an Eagle Airways flight with only about 30 or so passengers, so everyone was being served who went up to the desk), but doesn't one feel somewhat placated that someone heard one's complaint?

...we've made some changes to our standby policy for tickets purchased on or after February 22, 2010. These changes were made in an effort to streamline the boarding process at the gate and to give our airport agents more opportunity to provide assistance to those customers that are confirmed on a particular flight.

Still, unlike some of our competitors, we are by no means eliminating a customer’s ability to take an earlier flight. For a $50 charge, if space is available on the day of departure, we will confirm you on an earlier flight. This option not only gives you the opportunity to get to your destination sooner, it also eliminates the uncertainty of standby travel.

Being on a roll, I also wrote to the NY Port Authority, which manages La Guardia, to mention that I'd seen an airport cleaning employee emptying the recycling into the general rubbish bin and then disposing of them together.

Just imagine what I'm going to be like when I'm nearing 70!

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Los Angeles tripping

The view from my Beverly Hills hotel window. On one of the buildings dead amidships is a ten-storey hanging of Buzz Lightyear, with a big "3" top right. My hero.

Currently in LA for a few days business, heading home tomorrow. Don't miss the traffic from our previous four years living in San Diego, but do miss the weather.

Got growled at from home when walked 4.2 miles along Santa Monica Blvd and Wilshire to my first meeting at the Hammer Museum. "No one walks in LA!" The person I met with made me take a taxi back to my hotel. Probably a good thing, as was wearing dressish shoes and got some severe blisters, walking the last mile or so to the Hammer in my socks.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Yale tripping

Just returned from three days in New Haven, at Yale University, for this year's Art Museum Development Association (AMDA) conference, hosted by Yale University Art Gallery and Yale Center for British Arts. Terrific time meeting all my development peers.

Prior to leaving, I'd signed myself up for an 0730 tour of the campus. The morning's rain didn't put me off, the tour given by a junior architectural student who is also the editor of Yale's student newspaper, Yale Daily News. The nation's future looks bright with such a terrific lad.

Among the highlights, we poked our noses inside the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library (above), repository of millions of first editions, including the c.1454 Gutenberg Bible, the first Western book printed in movable type. Our guide explained that in trying to decide what stone to use for the exterior, the architects had travelled the world far and wide, searching for just the right material, to later find it just up the road--Vermont granite and marble. At just 31.75mm thick, the marble filters light in, on a sunny day bathing the room in a soft yellow glow.

Another curious moment for me was standing outside the rather decrepit looking building belonging to Yale's notorious Skull and Bones Society (above). No sign conveys its ownership, the steps leading up to the chained, double padlocked door are crumbling, as are parts of its stonework. Quite fitting that the rain stepped up its patter on our umbrellas as we stood on the footpath across the road.

Apart from the building above and its purpose, the campus brought back many wonderful visual memories of my years working at and living in Cambridge (the UK one).

PS. all photos from my mobile phone.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

When at sea...

Another sad sea faring story's unfolding off the coast of New Zealand. Paul Van Rensburg left Tauranga (my home town) for Gisborne on March 12--a two-day trip--and went missing shortly later. After three days of searching off the east coast--a search then abandoned--his 12-metre yacht Tafadzwa was found Sunday by an Orion out on training, drifting about 110kms west of the Chatham Islands.

A Chatham fishing boat went out to tow it in, and found his dinghy and kayak securely lashed topsides, everything snug down below, baskets of fruit still hanging in the companion way, and his dog--scared but okay.

As you can see from the photo atop, the reefed mainsail's thrashed, as is the headsail. But even without bad weather, which it appears from everything snug below may not be an overriding factor, sails can deteriorate very quickly when not tended to.

It hasn't been mentioned in reports, but it looks like this is another possible case of a yachtie peeing standing over the side instead of in a can/something (!) in the safety of the cockpit. When at sea, sit to pee ;)

Police are currently scouring his GPS tracks for any clues.

Courtesy of the New Zealand Herald, you can find some good photos and video here.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Further dry land adventures

The WeeOne and I headed off for another weekend away in the caravan to Jordan Lake's Poplar Point Campground: I didn't need too much encouragement to make it a three-day weekend with him, in our 1972 Compact Shasta.

While the weather wasn't shorts-friendly as last weekend's trip, we still had a grand time. One good thing about picking a site with power is that one can turn on a small heater for the jolly chilly mornings one encounters. And we left the kayak on the roof of the 4Runner...

I also dug out the old and very worn awning that was thrown in when we bought the Shasta, which was great for Friday's showers.

Once again we spent many an hour on the bikes and exploring Jordan Lake's beaches. I now appreciate that boys throwing rocks into water is an inherently male genetic trait.

And Doug-and-Kathy-up-the-hill joined us on a beautiful spring Saturday for lunch and a walk on one of the campground's many trails. Every bridge had to be checked for taniwha!

Everglades Challenge Report: Days 6 & 7


SandyBottom and I were away paddling by 0730, leaving the boys packing... We had to wait for dawn before decamping to have enough light to take some decent photos of our Shark River Chickee set up!

The wind was up, the expected 10-15 knot sou’easterlies kicking in rather nicely, contributing to a very nice wee chop up Whitewater Bay. With that flying in our faces, we headed east behind the lee of Whitewater Bay's northern keys to take Joe River down to Flamingo. It was going to be a long 42km (26-mile) day.

Taking Joe River adds a few kilometres and doesn’t shelter you 100% from the wind, but at least it decreases a fair amount of the chop that builds up the length of Whitewater Bay. And there are many small mangrove points you can tuck in behind to take a few minutes respite from the wind (above. Can you see the chop in the background? That's Joe River chop--imagine Whitewater Bay's).

For nine hours we plodded down the river.

Half way down, we bumped into RunningMouth and Scareman: RunningMouth solidly plugging away in his Kruger making good time; Scareman sheltering (above) behind the lee of a mangrove point almost at a standstill with the head winds battling his aka/ama arrangement. In the true spirit of WaterTribe, KneadingWater and Seiche took him in an inline tow, for three miles to Joe River Chickee. (He rested there until later that evening, coming into Flamingo with HammerStroke and SunDance.)

At 1645, we pulled into Flamingo and CP3 (a daylight stop!); first and foremost on our minds that the store was still open for their 45-second micro waved hamburgers and Dove ice cream bars—never in my normal life would I eat these burgers, but in Flamingo after six days paddling 483 kms (300 miles), they taste pretty darn fine. With a beer. We fantasize about these burgers for a full year.

Wearily we loaded boats on to trolleys and trundled them on to the grass verge opposite the ramp on the Florida Bay side of the marina. We ate and drank. We bantered for a few hours on tonight's forecast wind and rain and tomorrow’s even more dire forecast. And as night fell, we found the best place yet to stealth camp, without a tent or hammock. For the first time, I was too hot in my sleeping system. And there was the occasional mosquito. (And no rain.) Finally, we’re in Florida.


0530. Still dark, we arose from our hidden pits. Everyone was all a-tizz. Was a dreaded forecast storm heading our way, with lightning, thunder and heavy rain? Or not? On Seiche’s iPhone, the very colourful and impressive storm cell over the middle of the state was dropping four inches of rain every hour, but heading nor-east over Venice. Root, Flamingo’s checkpoint volunteer, was not too keen on us heading out into near death. We ummed and we aahed and we figured, hang it, we’re WaterTribers! SavannahDan‘s advice also helped—never in recorded history has a kayaker been struck by lightning. That cinched the deal. We ate, packed, carried boats over to the ramp, and scarpered; Savannah Dan and PaddleMaker in their tandem, SandyBottom and I on the water by 0700.

The trick with Flamingo and tackling Florida Bay is just to leave. If grotty weather runs in, there are plenty of keys along the way to pull over and hide from the elements. And then there’s always the next day to finish the remaining 58kms (36 miles) from Flamingo to the finish at Key Largo.

With that in mind, we headed off. We even had the sails up for a wee bit, in breezy yet flat calm conditions. But for the long stretch from End Key to Jimmie Channel, we hit a true headwind—about 10-12 knots—with a very messy chop. And even then we managed 3 knots.

From the twists of Jimmie Channel to the finish at Key Largo, it was one of our best rides ever. Very nearly a broad reach all the way, with sails flying, averaging 4.6 knots, even hitting 11.4 km/h (7.1 mph) on the last stretch.

We arrived at the finish at 1632. An hour later, the heavens broke--thunder, lightning, pouring rain and 26 knot winds. But of the last paddlers coming, no one got hit by lightning...

Another year over.

Of the 42 boats who started the 2010 Everglades Challenge, 24 finished. Cheers to all 42 of you. And to the additional eight continuing on the Ultimate Florida Challenge, kia kaha.

Key Largo: A very damp pre-shower Kiwi, on dry land once more. (The white on the merino Icebreaker top is dried salt--seven days constant use, and still smelled as fresh as a daisy ;)

Friday, March 26, 2010

Everglades Challenge Report: Day 5


Off Lostman's Five (above): Scareman left around 0400, and SandyBottom followed him about half-an-hour later, hell bent on doing the Nightmare for the first time. Guiltily I lay in my cosy pit and waited as dawn crept in.

Packing quickly, swatting the occasional mozzie (no, Florida's coldest winter on record had not killed them all off, merely made them hungrier for fresh meat), I left Seiche and KneadingWater as they heated coffee and packed, on the water just before 0700.

An hour or so later, the 7-10 knot headwinds kicked in. Reaching the top of Rogers Bay, I cut straight down the bay to enter Cabbage Cut, a bit of a shortcut to Rogers River, 3-4 kms long and about three to four metres wide. If you want to see alligators in the Wilderness Waterway (WW), this is the place to see them. And I was not let down—four this year! And some biggies (above, not using the zoom;)!

I reached the T-crossing of Rogers River, praying for at least a tailwind against the inevitable incoming tide. And who sped past me but Scareman, with Pacific Action Sail ablazing, full dry suit and bug net decor (above). I didn't feel so bad after all, him leaving three hours before me. But I did tell him he was going too fast for bugs!

Heading out the river, KneadingWater and Seiche caught me but lingered back. Offering a bribe of a lunch to stop at Rogers River Chickee from KneadingWater, I declined, to try and catch the Nightmare at a decent state of tide, the entrance being just past the Rogers River ground site.

The 13.7 kms (8.5 miles, but seems much shorter) Nightmare has conjured visions of horror and near-death experiences over my four ECs. I had to take it! The route serves as a "shortcut" between Rogers and Broad Rivers, so you don’t have to take the outside coastal route to either the Broad or Harney Rivers, the latter being the preferred re-entry to the WW. But if you do take the Nightmare, you are committed to the tangle of Broad River at its most western end, which I was familiar with!.

The tide was down nearly a metre, but the route was fine—hardly any overhanging branches, no pythons nor alligators, and just one thick downed branch across my path to scrape the boat over at a fast paddle. My fears had been conquered. And just as I met up with Broad River, KneadingWater and Seiche caught me, also taking the Nightmare (and having see one alligator guarding the Nightmare's entrance).

Reaching the tangle of Broad River (above)—much more exciting than the Nightmare—we pushed our way over and under fallen limbs. This was my second time taking this route—the first being my very memorable first EC, with SandyBottom in her Kruger, in the pitch black with only one headlamp...

Consistently against wind and tide we meandered along, down the Broad—taking a ten minute stretch break (above) on the Harney River Chickee—through to the Harney—a very long stretch hugging the sides of the mangroves, and then nipping around the corner onto Shark River.

No matter how many times I do this particular part of the Wilderness Waterway, it never ceases to amaze me that if you have a headwind paddling west on the Harney, you will also have a headwind when you turn the 180-degree corner on to Shark River, paddling east. (I am open to explanations!)

Night fell as we searched for our stop for the night, Shark River Chickee. Convinced that Dawn was either fast asleep on the chickee, or perhaps even in Flamingo!, we called out to her in the pitch black… to hear an “I’m behind you!” from aft. She had just caught up to us.

Having been a bit spooked by the alligators down Cabbage Cut, she’d decided not to do the Nightmare on her own, and had taken the longer outside coastal route, re-entering on the Harney River.

Nice that we were all there together, arriving around 1930 hours.

Getting ourselves all set up over the next hour or so was one of the highlights of the trip. The chickee is a nearly 4x4m platform, with a narrow walkway leading to a Port-a-Loo. We wanted all the boats up with us for ease of unpacking and repacking the next morning. SandyBottom's and my boat were laid diagonally across the walkway, we hung KneadingWater’s in the rafters, with his cockpit full of everyone’s paddles, and Seiche’s boat lay across one side. We then pitched three tents (my Macpac not free-standing but fine tying chickee-level lines four corners out) and SandyBottom hung her hammock above my tent. This left a small space in the center for "lounging" and cooking supper. A great memory of the trip. Though everyone but me snored all night…

During all the heaving of boats, we lost KneadingWater's SPOT overboard...

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Everglades Challenge Report: Day 4


Up and off in the early daylight, thoroughly enjoying our sandy, secluded camp spot (above), we headed from White Horse Key for Everglades City’s Ranger Station and nearby CP2 at Chokoloskee.

Though the wind was against us, we made the delicious incoming tide up the longish Indian River, arriving at the Ranger Station around 1100. Grabbing my wallet, I headed straight up to the Ranger office for our Wilderness Waterway camping permits--another filter--with the campsites Lostman's Five and Shark River Chickee in mind. Sites were filling up fast, and the rangers had a white board up with all the full ones. A frustrating 30 minutes later, even though first in queue, knowing I was missing out on ice cream time, I had our permits for four kayakers in hand.

At the ramp, a group of Duke students were heading off in their rental tin canoes for a few days in the Ten Thousand Islands. I told them I was also at Duke, working at the Nasher Museum: “We love the Nasher!” Made my day.

We scooted under the causeway bridge and began the long paddle up to CP2 (above) behind the causeway, against the tide and wind, finally checking in at Chokoloskee's CP2 at noon. Seiche’s parents, Jerry and Mina, were there again to meet us, travelling the EC route in their RV. Topping up with a bit of water, depositing used WagBags, we headed off on our Wilderness Waterway (WW) adventure.

Paddling the Wilderness Waterway adds about another 48 kms (30 miles) to the overall EC route, but I can’t imagine doing the EC without not experiencing this section—it adds another whole exciting dimension and, you get an extra tooth for your troubles!

Dodging the stiff headwinds coming down the bay to the entrance of the WW, we scooted across to the more sheltered Lopez River—a slightly longer route, to meet up with the WW a mile or so on.

And on we paddled, into the night, through the very dark Alligator Alley, finally reaching Lostman's around 2015, having paddling 43.5 kms (27 miles) just from Chokolokee.

Scareman was already bunked for the night, with his huge tandem Passat and ama/aka system. We soon had him up and chatting as we ate a cooked dinner. Paddling the route unofficially, after missing the start due to illness, he was happily doing as much of the route as possible. A good, keen man.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Everglades Challenge Report: Days 2 & 3

Water supplies replenished at a very busy CP1, we were off at 0700 the next morning.

DaveOnCudjoe had capsized his beloved Sea Pearl Maggie the previous day, and after four hours sitting on his upturned hull, had been rescued by fellow WaterTriber, Ika. Just as I left CP1, Ika sculled in, with Dave on the bow (above). Tears welled up in my eyes, as I told him I was very glad to see him.

Paddling with Floatsome, we took a shortcut west of the ICW, cutting directly down the west of Sandfly Key. Deciding to take the inside of Pine Island Sound, we had a great sail across the expanse to the north of Pine Island. A large basking shark cruised by me.

Then Floatsome (above) started flagging. As an accomplished Ironman and triathlete, he recognized that the previous day, while more than doable, wasn’t normally followed by the same effort for another five or six days. For six hours we slowly sailed down Pine Island Sound, my concern mounting. His wife had threatened me to bring her husband home alive! I made the decision with him to pull him out, up ahead at the nearest hotel. Around 1700 hours, two miles from Punta Rassa and the western of the three Sanibel bridges, to my surprise, KneadingWater and Seiche appeared. We hadn’t seen anyone else doing the inside route and thought everyone else far ahead of us. Taking an on-the-water diagnosis, KneadingWater (cat vet extraordinaire) considered Floatsome’s problem to be a potassium overload. Taking him in an inline tow, unable to paddle, KW and Seiche had Floatsome on the beach of the Punta Rassa Marriott at nearly 1800 hours. Linda, the catering manager on duty at the dock went out of her way to ensure that his gear was safely stowed in her office, and that he found a dry, safe room. (The next week, back home, I called the hotel to have her commended.) Floatsome’s first EC was over. You can read his experience here.

Into the dusk and night we paddled down the coast, RiverJohn and his wife once again waving madly from the beach as we passed. In the very dark night, the shoals of Big Carlo Pass and New Pass were quick to wake us from any dosing, a wave or two suddenly breaking over us out of the dark. We made Wiggins Pass around 2240 hours, another long but satisfying day in the cockpit.

NatureCalls was already tent bound, having arrived about a half-hour earlier. And to my surprise, again thinking everyone would be ahead, SandyBottom, SunDance and HammerStroke turned up near midnight.


A leisurely pack in beautiful morning sun (above). At 0800, off and away, this time with SandyBottom aside me. Around Doctors Pass, KneadingWater and Seiche joined us, and we comfortably paddled down the coast toward Big Marco Pass. The plan was to have dinner at Goodland restaurant, up the head of the Big Marco River. An experience I had never given myself in my four ECs—eating for fun while in race mode!

For a change of scenery we headed into the very scenic Gordon Pass (above), adding some additional distance, but a new route for me, and nice to see it in the daylight, as it’s often a good escape route from grotty coastal weather when trying to make Big Marco. While KW and Seiche stopped for a nap, SB and I headed up the Big Marco River, tide and wind in our favour. (Can I comment here how many times this does not happen!)

Near 1700, we dragged our boats up some riprap outside Goodland restaurant (above), donned beanies to cover ghastly hair, plopped our wet bottoms in a nice dry cane chair, and ordered some wonderful sea food. Lovely.

Every time a paddler came by, we’d dash out on to the restaurant’s pier and wave them down to join us. We soon had FourFather, Seiche, KW, HammerStroke and SunDance. Fearing for his fragile amas, RunningMouth kept on.

We heard from FourFather (left; the father of four children) his previous night’s experience, of being caught by New Pass’ shoals—capsized, he swam the very cold half-mile to shore and spent 12 hours shivering in tent on the beach, trying to warm up.

As dusk fell, the seven of us paddled up and out into the Everglades’ Ten Thousand Islands, with White Horse Key in mind for the night, about another ten miles paddling. Arriving around 2230 hours, we split FourFather, HammerStroke and SunDance into one beach spot that fitted the three of them, and SandyBottom, KneadingWater, Seiche and I headed around the other side of the island, to another beautiful spot.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Everglades Challenge Report: Day 1

Leaving a chilly Durham, NC at 0530 in the morning, with SandyBottom and Floatsome, we headed off on the 12-hour drive to Florida, to compete in 2010’s WaterTribe Everglades Challenge: a 300+ mile race over six to seven days of sea kayaking or sailing, from Tampa's Fort De Soto to Key Largo, via the Everglades' Wilderness Waterway. As the rules state (p22, in red): "you may DIE".

Prepared to endure Florida’s coldest winter on record, we’d packed many a fleece, down jackets and sleeping bags for the first two nights camping at Fort De Soto, before the race started March 6, at 0700. And downright chilly it was, too.

Seventy boats slowly appeared on Fort De Soto’s beach over the Friday leading up to the late afternoon’s Skipper’s meeting: 20 for the 67 mile UltraMarathon to Placida’s Check Point 1; 42 for the 300+ miles Everglades Challenge; and another eight for the every-four-years Ultimate Florida Challenge—1,200 miles around the state of Florida.

And what a variety making up the races’ six classes: sea kayakers—solo and tandem, an expedition windsurfer, self-designed and -built prototypes, stock Sea Pearls and class racing boats, Kruger canoes—something to mull over for everyone.

And the word must be getting out about the race, as this was the biggest crowd I’d seen on a Friday viewing the craft and chatting with skippers, and seeing everyone off early on a Saturday morning.
Saturday, March 6, 0700: a cry goes up for the start. The kayakers are quick away, having just their boats to drag from above the highwater line. The bigger boats have a variety of ingenious methods to get themselves into the water, but whatever they use has to be taken with them for the entirety of the race. The first filter of the EC.

The weather was perfect. Cool and sunny. For the next three days we enjoyed predominantly northerly winds, pushing us along with our one square-metre Pacific Action Sails. For those craft that today headed to the outside, they were later to experience more severe conditions, resulting in two capsizes and rescues, both by fellow WaterTribers.

With the weather being so unseasonably chilly, following the Inter Coastal Waterway (ICW) for the first day was the calmest I’d experienced in my four ECs—hardly any pleasure boats were ripping up and down, normally contributing to a frustrating confused wash.

As night fell, SandyBottom, Floatsome (his first EC), Seiche (also his first EC), KneadingWater and I fell in together and paddled the last 15 or so miles to CP1. We finally made it at 2355 hours, the 68 miles taking us 16 hours and 55 minutes. We dragged our boats up amongst a sea of other boats, and set to pitching tents right there. After my first EC I have no interest camping at CP1—it’s too noisy and the hard coral ground makes pitching tents a chore. But no one else was interested in heading a mile or so away for a better spot.

It was very cold. Again I am grateful that FliesWithKiwiBird insisted that I pack a stack of handwarmers. I changed into every stitch of dry clothing I had and thrust a handwarmer down each sock against my solid white feet. Bliss. And still I experienced uncontrollable shivering.