Everglades Challenge 2009: gear reflections

Gear: Only a few new additions to the collection this year, as reviewed for 2007 and 2008. First up, a new Greenland Paddle. Not that this was intentional. But when I saw StripBuilder’s beautiful hand-crafted one-of-three GPs the day before the race started, I just had to have it, there and then. And it did help—the slimmer loom and longer thinner paddles made for fewer pressure points and a very comfortable paddling experience.

And a new piece of safety equipment: Greatland Laser’s rescue laser flare Magnum. There are marketed as nighttime signaling devices visible up to 20 miles (32 km) away in optimal conditions, and effective in daytime up to three miles (4.8km). It’s not intended to replace but supplement the four small Orion Skyblazer rescue flares I carry in one of my PFD pockets, yet pragmatically appreciating that those Orions may just not work. I had it stored in a PFD pocket and attached via light parachute cord.

Once more my already-replaced Princeton Tec Apex LED Headlamp gave out on me—this time on day 2. I used my backup UK 3AAA Vizion headlamp, which was fine for detailed work around the boat or campsite—particularly the red bulb for nighttime chartwork—but not designed as a “spotlight” for spotting possible campsites from the boat. Thank goodness for this year’s full moon.

Food: My “energy-bar–of-the-year” choice this EC was Larabar – I’d had a few in my kitty last year and at the time thought them the tastiest of the lot. I’ve now come to the conclusion—three ECs later—that it doesn’t really matter what bar you have as your key energy choice, you tire of them by day 2, if not even by late afternoon day 1. But of the wide choice of Larabars that I did have, the banana flavour was my favourite (51gms, 220cals/924kj). And as I have found every year, Nature Valley’s Oats ‘N Honey crunchy granola bars (42gms, 180cals/756kj) never lose their appeal and, lo and behold, are far, far cheaper than any of the more heavily marketed energy bars (particularly when bought in bulk from Costco).

Lunch stop!

What I did find appealing this year was stopping for lunch and, thanks to the generosity of KneadingWater, dining on foil-packaged tuna wrapped in a tortilla with half a chopped up mini Babybel cheese. Not anticipating another racing mode EC as with 2008’s, for EC2010 I may well practice the civilized lessons learned from KW.

This year I also decided to take only two freeze-dried Mountain House meals (beef stroganoff and noodles (my favourite), 16oz/0.45kg, pro-pak vacuum pouch), as I didn’t use any at all last year. They were used as part of the communal dinners KneadingWater prepared, put together with contributions from SandyBottom and myself (I can see the cat’s out-of-the-bag that KW was this year’s chef-in-residence), though I wouldn’t have been able to eat a complete single-person serving. I also took a couple of foil-packaged salmon in oil, which we threw in with some of the freeze-dried dinners. Once again, my stove was never used.

This year, for some reason, I truly appreciated the Clif gel shots I had with me (left over from last year and probably past their sell-by date), particularly paddling late into the evenings when I couldn’t stomach solids (energy bars) very well. At one very tired point I slurped one of my emergency Clif caffeine gel shots. I don’t drink coffee—haven’t for nigh on 12 years—so this gave me a fair headache, but energy-wise truly lit a fire in my cockpit when I needed that last wee push a few hard miles from bedding down for the night.

Leave No Trace: As with last year, I again packed Phillips’ WagBags—four this year—and I used three on the first three mornings where we camped “wild” and “stealth-like.” Subsequent mornings at groundsites/chickees along the Wilderness Waterway had their own PortaLoos, and there’s a public loo at Flamingo, which covers a regular person like me! I can’t encourage folks enough to use these when camping wild—or any similar system such as newspaper and a ziplock bag—it just doesn’t suffice nowadays to dig a cathole and perhaps take out just your loo paper.

Conclusions: All-in-all, it was a fairly “healthy” race for me—I didn’t wear (constantly wet) gloves at all this year, which I believe helped cancel any potential blister problem—none at all, in fact. Any pressure points were dealt with immediately with waterproof tape, which is how I dropped my beloved PFD knife overboard. As with last year but funnily not the year before, I did achieve an impressive case of “nappy rash,” or diaper rash as the Americans would phrase it. I’m going to have to give some thought to how to try and alleviate this problem. Certainly not as bad as last year’s, where it got infected, but uncomfortable for the first few days. (More to blog on this issue...)

I still don't really "sleep" with any consistency during the race—it can be a bit frustrating at times hearing those around you soundly asleep—but that doesn't seem to slow me down any during the race itself (just after). One trick I did learn that helped, particularly those camping around me, was to turn my deluctible Exped 7 down sleeping mat over the other way, which meant it's now so much quieter when I turn over.

And, of course, as FliesWithKiwiBird has repeatedly noticed, I’m pretty useless for the week after the race—it takes a good three to four days to get my landlegs back, and nearly a week or so to return to complete tigger levels.

But I’m signed up for next year…

Everglades Challenge race report: Day 7

Day 7: CP3 Flamingo to the finish at Key Largo

Last night we’d agreed on a 0500 start to be off at 0600—KneadingWater wanted to buy some extra food bars to get him through the last day. At 0400, wide awake, I asked him if he was asleep. “I have extra food bars for you…” We were off.

Under the bivvy tree we found SandyBottom looking pretty tired. Everyone else, with Pelican and Egret just casting off, had left around 0200, trying to beat the 10-15-knot forecast easterlies—right on the nose, which had turned back a few paddlers the day before. We persuaded her to come with us, only if I promised to stay with her all day—I was more than happy to.

Out in the dark, some helpful moon showing up the distant keys, we paddled on, probably only doing around 2knots with the wind rising earlier than expected. We passed Pelican and Egret—Pelican peddling the 200 pound boat against the wind, and Egret paddling. Dawn rose before reaching Dump Key where we found KW doing just that.

With wind and chop against us—Greenland paddles are a boon in such conditions—keys slowly passed us by, as did the infamous Twisted Mile channel and Jimmy Channel. From Jimmy Channel we saw KW making a beeline for the mainland right ahead, still a few good miles ahead but obviously going for the lee of the shore. We thought to follow him, but appreciating the extra miles this would give us, we made for the very narrow two-posted “ditch” between Stake and Low Keys. Then tucking above and around Bottle Key we were back on our usual route to the finish.

It was a delight to see Roo and a few crew mates, including JarHead, coming out to meet us on Southern Skimmer. Through the narrow IntraCostal channel we paddled and slowly made our way around the point to the finish—our speed (or lack of) was commented upon after landing, but we were trying to figure out which dock was the finishing line—made at 1645 hours. I had a beer in hand (courtesy of CrazyRussian) as my boat was lifted from the water—with me in it.

Photo: CrazyRussian welcoming us home, with cold beers in hand

Photo: Signing in for the last time

Photo: The showered version, chatting with Pelican and NiteSong

Everglades Challenge race report: Day 6

Day 6: Broad River to CP3 Flamingo

Not an early start, and the tide way out. SandyBottom took the mud route off the camp site, as above; KneadingWater and I launched from the ramp, mud free.

Less than a mile or so from the entrance to Broad River we headed further and further off the coast, the water getting no shallower the further off we paddled. We decided it would be quicker to walk the boats. Thus with KW with a towline around his waist, off we sauntered to find the deeper water to renter the Wilderness Waterway at Harney River, exploring the bottom life in all of four to six inches of water.

Photos: Walking the boats; Harney River entrance somewhere over there...

Up the Harney, tide and wind were against us… A dolphin followed me for a while; another played off my bow for some time. On we paddled, slowly making headway on the chart. Making a hard right around the bend into Shark River, the tide was still furiously coming in, but what we thought would be the wind with us and perhaps even a chance to raise a sail, did a 180 degree shift and was now against us…

At least we caught the last hour or so of the tide coming in via Shark River as it enters Whitewater Bay – the homeward stretch, albeit a few good miles yet, to Flamingo and CP3.

With a strong headwind, we paddled over to the west of Whitewater Bay for Joe River to try and find some shelter from the winds. A new route for me, but no respite against the full-on wind. KW went ahead, and SB was somewhere astern. (She also ended up coming down Joe River.)

With the full moon a couple of nights back, the moon was slow to rise in the dark, and with no GPS, I just followed the less dark headland to the next less dark headland to find the entrance to Coot Bay. My rear white passage light was abuzz with noisy blood-hungry mosquitoes.

Finally, around 2210 hours, and over 273 miles later (440km), I rounded the last wee bend of the long narrow Flamingo Cut to find KW and Lugnut and Wingnut ready to help portage the boat over to the Florida Bay side of Flamingo. Very much appreciated help, having done all this by myself last year. But sadly—nay, devastatingly—the shop was closed—no ice cream yet this race, nor Flamingo’s delicious micro-waved hamburgers (I kid you not)!

Finding DrKayak, SandDollar, StripBuilder bivvied aside their boats, with Pelican and Egret under the large tree aside the pontoons (they had all taken the outside route, including the Cape, missing the Wilderness Waterway), KW and I found our traditional stealth camp site overlooking Florida Bay, and bunked down for a few hours rest (he sleeps; I “rest”).

Everglades Challenge race report: Day 5

Day 5: Darwin’s Place to Broad River campsite

I was awake for some time last night—a burning, itching sensation on the back of my hands near driving me to screaming. It may have been a reaction against the thin neoprene sun paws I wear on my hands, which I love, to protect the back of my hands against the sun, yet keeping my palms clear. I decided not to wear them for the rest of the race, instead using liberal dobs of sun screen. Thankfully, no more discomfort for the rest of the race.

We were off as dawn broke.

The Wilderness Waterway is a 30-mile (48km) complex river system of narrow channels joining often very large almost lake-like bays. I fear for an explorer’s sanity puttering around without a good chart.

A few four-footer alligators swam lazily past. In one bay a couple of fisher folk were playing a very, very large jumping silvery fish. KW asked what it was—a tarpon—the first time I’ve seen one and also explaining many of the late night very large splashes we experience as we paddle along.

Every day we’d seen dolphins, many playing along with us, and today was no exception.

Around a bend, ThereAndBackAgain, heading the wrong direction—north—came acharging (with the tide and Pacific Action Sail up), to check on who was paddling this year—he taking a break from the festivities.

Readers of this blog’s coverage of my first 2007 EC may remember the saga of when SandyBottom and I “lost” KneadingWater and feared him drowned, all over miscommunication of routes we were taking. I still shake my head in amazement, that he and I (SB some time behind) made near enough the same mistake again, in exactly the same position. But this time the radios did work, and apparently I sounded quite cutting when advising him, “Don’t move!”

From the bay south of Big Lostmans Bay we cut west down Rogers River, and then south down the aptly named The Cutoff, to meet Broad River, the tide and wind full force against us. With a few hours of painful westward progress, we finally made Broad River groundsite for a late lunch break—probably around 1430 hours.

Photo: We’re stopping this early?!

With the tide thankfully in, it was an easy disembark, just running our boats up the slatted boat ramp—a very handy 30-or-so inches wide, yet fairly slippery. Lunch turned into afternoon tea…, which turned into cocktails…, all taken dangling our feet over the dock, watching the tide drop in volume, but still running against anyone paddling out—we couldn’t quite figure that one out.

It didn’t take too much persuasion for me to convince KW that this would be the perfect place for the night, as long as anyone else didn’t come and claim their booked site. And a few hours later, up arrived SB, just in time for additional cocktails and a gourmet dinner. Nearing dusk, my mosquito headnet offered full passing access for those dastardly no-see-ums, the material not being fine enough. Well bitten, we repaired to our abodes pre-dark, around 2000. Terribly embarrassing for such hardy racers…

Photo: Settling down for the evening at Broad River. KW standing on the boat ramp.

Everglades Challenge race report: Day 4

Day 4: Goodland Bridge to Darwin’s Place, Everglades’ Wilderness Waterway

The tide was out when we awoke, and it was post-dawn. Ah, the pressures of being a racer. And the mud was… very, very muddy.

This is the second time I’ve paddled via the Marco River, but the first time in daylight—from last year’s absolutely moonless black-filled nights, it was a real pleasure enjoying the views as we opened out into the Ten Thousand Islands of the Everglades. Did I mention, against the tide and wind…?

With SandyBottom paddling her own rhythm behind us, KneadingWater and I headed below Panther Key, trying to find some protection from the wind. From meandering through and around Panther Key’s narrow cut, adding an extra mile or so to our course, we diverted back on to our original course to find the wind had pretty much died. Nipping in between Stop Keys, we caught the last hour or so of an incoming tide up Indian Key Pass, making excellent time direct to the Everglades’ Rangers Office, around 1430 hours, to collect our permits for the Wilderness Waterway—oh yes, we were set on achieving another alligator’s tooth for our collections! For an additional meandering but highly scenic 30 or more miles (48km).

Photo: At the Everglades’ Rangers Station

First filling waterbladders and rinsing hair, we wandered around to the rangers’ office and bought permits for Darwin’s Place for tonight’s resting place—about a 20-mile paddle away—and with our eyes bigger than our energy, Joe River Chickee for the following night—near enough to Flamingo’s CP3 probably not to worry—but only as every chickee or groundsite inbetween more manageable in a long day was fully booked.

And lo-and-behold, SB’s standing beside us—hand proffered requesting ice-cream money—happy to join us at each evening’s camp site.

Sheltered from the wind to reach Chokoloskee’s CP3, instead of cutting across the choppy bay, we nipped behind the causeway bridge just around from the Ranger’s Station, and paddled down to the checkpoint, smartly coming up the Wilderness Waterway side, so as not to have to lift our boats over the road. Checking in at 1640, we were off. 174 miles (280km) checked off.

For an excellent chart of the Wilderness Waterway, click here to follow our route.

Up Taylor’s Creek this time, for something new, reuniting with the Waterway soon later atop Lopez River.

A magical night, near full moon beaming down over us, making reading a chart fairly easy. With not a hint of a breeze, dead calm water reflected everything so purely. A night to remember.

We made Darwin’s Place near 2130, to find Trader and TroutHeart snoring contently yet illegally. And SB, after chatting with friends at CP3, turned up a few hours later, with us heads down.

Everglades Challenge race report: Day 3

Day 3: Sanibel Bridge to Goodland Bridge, Big Marco River

The early morning fisherfolk ignored us as they waded out to catch the dawn’s rays. As did NatureCalls, still sound asleep.

SandyBottom headed on a more direct route across Mexico Bay—as I normally do—but this year I traded that with hugging the coast line with KneadingWater, body watching Spring Break and retiree beach goers. It had its moments. As KW coined the phrase, “she’s not my daughter.”

Distracted by a woman waving a towel madly on the beach, KW headed ashore to discover RiverJohn’s wife, hoping to hold us up as RJ scrambled to launch his Kruger and paddle a few miles with us. An entry in only this year’s UltraMarathon (just to CP1), to take more advantage of their Florida timeshare from the vagaries of a Canadian winter, he soon caught up with me, chatting away—always good to spend any time with John.

Once more battling against a strong tidal current, we stopped at the south side of Wiggins Pass (one of my favourite late night sleeping spots—only the north side) to refill (excellent quality) water at the fish gutting bench and wash some salt off. Always seems rather odd to step ashore people-filled beaches, gear- and salt-laden, more than likely a bit pongy, to tend to a few chores and then head off again. It’s nice when folks stop and chat—seems with the media attention local reporter Terry Tomalin (Insomniacs) had achieved, many a local either on a beach or fishing off their boat knew that we were competing in this year’s EC. Our NZ Pacific Action Sails (not seeing much action at all this race) also draw a fair bit of attention.

Photo: Tyro and PaddleCarver

A couple of times we passed and were passed by tandem Tyro and PaddleCarver, who decided to stop at dusk a few miles short of Big Marco Pass, to camp on Keywadin Island. As night fell, a weary SB was also keen to stop for the night at Sea Oat Island, but with a ripping tide to whip us through Big Marco Pass and up Marco River (a tide, going our way!) we managed to persuade her to stay with us for a few more miles yet.

Photo: KneadingWater in calm repose

Photo: The joys of Florida sunsets

By the Goodland Bridge, around 2230 hours, we called it a night. Tucked away from the small local marina, under a short outpost of the old original wooden bridge, we slung a hammock (SB), pitched a tent (KB) and cleared a level sand spot (KN, whose tent poles were residing safely in the back of SB’s van, parked at Fort DeSoto). Watching the tide slowly reaching our bed lines, we hauled the boats higher, cooked a meal, and slept (the others sleep; I doze fitfully).

Photo: With SandyBottom under the old Goodland Bridge