Everglades Challenge fuel

So what did I eat during the WaterTribe Everglades Challenge. Some folks wanted to know (thanks, Craigcanoer).

I’m the type of person that if I don’t nibble regularly – about every four hours – I tend to fall over – and that’s sitting at my office desk. This was my biggest concern prior to the EC – how to keep my fire stoked so I could keep paddling non-stop for 12 to 16 hours. In the end, I had no problems – but I’d spent some time beforehand sorting out just what I would need to keep myself going.

With the research that I did, I figured I’d need 200-300 carbohydrate-calories per hour to keep up my endurance. A body’s system can only metabolize about 350 calories per hour, thus my target was to eat 30-60gms of carbs an hour – one can’t digest anything more than that.

So I planned accordingly.

In a small Sea to Summit dry bag I packed breakfast – five dried apricots and two muesli bars for each morning. These were eaten on the go as I packed up camp (mostly around 0400-0430) or perhaps even on the water. If I hadn’t needed to drink an Ensure the night before, I had that before casting off from the beach.

I packed in a large ziplock bag each day’s food, and stored all that in another Sea to Summit dry bag – it weighed a massive 10lbs/4.5kgs. Each day I’d pop one ziplock into my Macpac bumbag, clipped around my waist, sitting on top of my spray skirt – so instantly accessible. I figured that I needed to eat at least every hour, and that would mean at least 16 energy bars and Gu per bag, per day. I way over estimated, even though I felt I was eating very regularly – I suppose time does fly when you’re having fun. But I never felt hungry, so they did the trick. In the end, each day’s bag probably lasted me not quite two days.

Here’s what I had in each ziplock:
6 x Clif Bars
4 x Gu shots and 1 coffee Clif shot (didn’t like the latter; I don’t drink coffee)
2 x Moro bars (NZ - yum)
1 x Luna Bar
1 x Honey Bar Natural (yum)
3 x Natural Valley Oats ‘n Honey (bought bulk from Costco, half if not less the weight of a Clif bar, a bit dryish, but overall my favourite – I’ll take more of those next year)

Clif Bars were my main source of energy. I had a variety, ranging from Oatmeal Raisin Walnut to Chocolate Brownie. I tired of them pretty quickly (aah, day 2), but kept eating them as they caused no intestinal trouble and my bodily functions (I’m trying to be polite here) worked perfectly every (early) morning for the entire race.

The Gu shots were mainly consumed during the last few hours of the day when I needed an quick-and-easily digestible energy boost. Surprisingly, I didn’t use as many of them as I thought I would – I had a lot left over.

I also had a few bags of Target-branded beef jerky (my favourite taste-wise) and string cheese. Over a period of time, having some dairy product is really important for the body. But I surprised myself how little I really ate of both – most came home with me.

As soon as possible after hitting the beach at the end of the day, and certainly within 20 minutes, I drank 750mls/12ozs of Endurox R4. I had each day’s powder pre-packed in a small ziplock bag. I did try the Fruit Punch taste post-purchase and before I left for the EC, and hated it, but I wasn’t about to spend another $x on another container. (Perhaps REI could do pre-buy tastings…) By the end of a hard day, I didn’t really care – it did the job.

For most dinners I’d boil up a few cups of water and eat a Mountain House, two-person-serving of freeze-dried Stroganoff with Beef & Noodles – 620cals (I’m a creature of habit and can eat this particular flavour for days on end). I brought seven of the dinners along and ate all but one, though one night I could only finish half a bag. Before the race, I took off each dinner’s top tear-tab, took out the thing-a-me inside, pushed out the air and resealed the pouch by its own thread – every gram counts. And just before I hit my pit, I’d drink a bottle of Ensure (250cals). All the dinners and seven bottles of Ensure were stored in another Sea to Summit dry bag. I had one bottle of Ensure left over by race end (and gave that to SandyBottom for our last day’s breakfast).

I hydrated constantly all day. My bladder’s never been the best one off the shelf for expansion properties, but at least I wasn’t not urinating. The only time I drank pure water was at night in my tent. For the rest of the race I sipped fairly constantly – about every 10 minutes or so – on Gookinaid. I met Bill Gookin about five years ago when living in San Diego, and I’m a true convert to the benefits of his product. My MSR dromedaries were 4-litres, which meant 16 scoops of Gookinaid per water bag. I had each 4-litres pre-scooped into ziplock bags, and planned on two four-litre water bags per day. All those ziplocks were stored in their own Sea to Summit dry bag. In the end I only drank about two to three litres a day, so had lots of Gookinaid powder left over - and all that Gookinaid was pretty heavy.

All-in-all, I felt very comfortable with what I'd brought along, and had no health or hunger issues whatsoever. With the extra weight, which will be pared down for next year, I convinced myself that it all helped contribute to a longer waterline...

Messing about in boats #1

When I was 13 and in my first year of secondary school, I was Ratty in the play, Wind in the Willows. The book had been one of my favourites growing up. The best line of Ratty’s and the entire book, is: “There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.” What an adage for life. My dad (86 in April and still solo sailing a 32’ Davidson around the NZ coastline for weeks on end) reckons he would have been a wealthy man, if it hadn’t been for messing about in boats pretty much all of his life.

My own first boat, after the family sailing dinghies, was a Laser. I bought it from my Uncle Jim. It had a beautiful blue hull and the centerboard casing leaked. By the end of a day’s exhilarating sailing, the boat would be half full of water. But, wow, could I make some speed on a broad reach – and then it would throw me out and I’d have to swim for miles after it.

I then bought a windsurfer, which, much to my father’s bemusement, is still hanging from his garage roof back home in Whitianga on the Coromandel Peninsula.

During my third year at university (1982), I found a derelict looking 18-foot William Garden-designed yacht, looking rather forlorn on the hardstand down on the First Ave slipway in my home town of Tauranga. Reveries had a ‘For Sale’ sign hanging from it, and I was hooked. ‘Varsity was 100kms away, but I’d try to get home most weekends to work on the boat. I scraped everything down and repainted. Dad had a cabinetmaking business, with an upholstery shop, and his upholsterer made me new wool squabs for the two bunks. Dad even recovered the main hatch with teak decking, which I caulked and varnished. Reveries was my pride and joy.

After months of work, back into the water she went. There was no winch on this hardstand, so we pushed the cradle down into the water. Reveries had been out of the water for so long, the planks had opened up a good centimeter or so – you could practically see through from one side of the hull to the other. Of course, as soon as it hit the water, in poured Tauranga Harbour. Handbailing furiously, we dinghy-towed her around to the old Tauranga yacht club and stepped the mast. For two days and nights while moored out on the boat’s swing mooring, my brother and I took turns to bail while the other one slept.

Reveries had a small inboard engine – an old modified petrol Seagull outboard. It was the bane of my life. I would spend hours getting all the pauls lined up inside the casing to get her started, but would have to time my passage from the mooring to the jetty just right. Invariably the motor would konk out about three-quarters of the way, and judging the tide I’d just be able to drift in and down, kissing the jetty with perfect timing – usually to a round of applause from the old salts watching from the yacht club bar.

There’s nothing like the love affair with a first boat.

GPS mounts

I’ve had a few folks enquire as to exactly how did I mount my GPS to my Grahame Sisson Arctic Raider during the recent WaterTribe Everglades Challenge. And hang it, I can talk or write about gear ‘til the cows come home.

I’d been racking my brains as to how I was going to mount the GPS to where I could see it easily, was accessible enough to punch buttons, and didn’t interfere with either my Pacific Action Sail’s sheets or my Greenland paddle stroke - a bit lower than when using a Euro paddle. My kayak has an ocean cockpit, so I had a fair bit of room to maneuver with.

About four or so months before the EC started, someone on the WaterTribe discussion forum recommended Ram mounts. I researched which mount was specifically listed for my GPS – a discontinued Garmin GPSMap 60CS – and bought the two-piece Ram unit accordingly – a RAM-B-138-GA12U.

The unit came with two screws, and neither nut would fit either screw. I figured the unit really needed four screws, and bought a new stainless set from a local hardware store. Of course, this also meant drilling four more holes in my beautiful yellow topsides.

The next challenge I had to overcome was how to secure the GPS to the mount – there’s a ‘tunnel’ in the back of the mount for a screw to enter the GPS, but I couldn’t for the life of me find anything either Garmin-related or long enough to fit it (about 100mm). So I concocted some short bungee, which threaded through the ‘tunnel’ and flipped over the top of the antennae. The GPS didn’t budge the entire (wet) race, though the tension finally broke through the rubber loop of the GPS aerial, which thankfully didn’t interfere with the actual working of the GPS unit.

When I'm not using the boat, or the GPS, I loosen the wing screw on the side of the bottom mount, which releases the entire unit from the ball. The ball is left firmly attached (via the four screws) to the deck.

All-in-all, I was a happy bunny.

Mana Wahine Walk

While a few of us were concentrating solely on our WaterTribe Everglades Challenge, three young Kiwi women were just completing a three-month off-the-beaten-track traverse of the Southern Alps of New Zealand, from the bottom to the top.

I wanted to take the time to salute them.

Mana Wahine Walk – “strong women walk” – the expedition covered around 1600kms, passing through some of the most wild, untouched landscape NZ has to offer.

They tramped (Kiwi for ‘hiked’) through totally wild areas in Southland and Fiordland, climbed over snow-capped peaks and scaled some fantastic alpine rock routes. Hey, they even kayaked three of New Zealand's most memorable lakes (Hauroko, Manapouri and Te Anau), walked some of the country’s most famous tracks (such as The Dusky Track, the Keppler and the Routeburn), crossed 21 amazing alpine passes (such as Broderick and Rabbit), and the Tasman Glacier.

Their mission was to raise awareness for Youthline, a NZ charity specialising in youth development.

Their hopes for the trip?

To inject young people with a passion for the outdoors
To encourage an adventure ethic that will help build self-esteem
To encourage respect, for self, for others, and for the environment

Totally Bubba Girls.

Not paddling, hon. Honest

So what do post-Everglade Challenge WaterTribers do when they’re not paddling? Of course, they start dreaming about next year’s EC, but they’re also very careful not to talk out loud about it too much, or to actually sign up so soon on the WaterTribe site for 2008 – that’s a bit too public, and FlysWithKiwiBird knows exactly where that page is now – and they start mulling over when they may be able to fit in a quick after-work or weekend paddle, just to keep the cobwebs from collecting on the boat as it sits so forlornly in the back yard. They ruminate (again, not out loud) over what gear worked well in this year’s EC and what would be a good idea to upgrade to – so they quietly order a few wee things here and there, just to remind UPS where the front door is. They definitely check the WaterTribe discussion forum fairly regularly – there’s always a good bit of advice on there, a comment to bring a smile to one’s lips and a trigger of a great EC memory or two.

But this KiwiBird has been kept pretty busy and has been warned not to even mention the word kayaking for a wee bit.

Summer’s on the way, so the pool cover had to come off – that took some scrubbing both sides and to be dried and folded away ready for the end of the season (heaven forbid). The lawns mown for the first time this spring. And, of course, the big project is finishing as quickly as possible the nursery for Andrew’s imminent arrival (May 8). Much to FlysWithKiwiBird’s chagrin - who's currently back in San Diego for the West Coast baby shower - this just had to be put on hold until after the EC. But now that’s over, I’m into slave and placation mode. “Yes, dear” is my mantra for the next few weeks as I putty, spackle, sand and paint.

And dream…

NZ in the USA

It’s been a fairly important time in NZ politics this week, with Prime Minister Helen Clark meeting with Condoleezza Rice on Tuesday, and then George Bush on Wednesday (Rueters photos above). A free trade agreement (FTA) has always been at the forefront of any NZ mission to Capitol Hill, which was stymied some 20 years ago when NZ banned nuclear warships from NZ waters, effectively cancelling the 35-year ANZUS military alliance (joint Australia-New Zealand-US). The country’s new legislation established NZ as the first ever, single-nation, nuclear weapons-free zone, and the only country that has put its nuclear-free policy into law.

Wednesday’s big step seems to be that Bush conceded that New Zealand's anti-nuclear policy is strongly supported by Kiwis - some acknowledgment that America no longer seeks to change it.

NZ’s relations with the US goes a long way back, not as far as with the UK, of course (the ‘mother country’), but NZ is one of only two countries that has stood by the US in pretty much every war since WWII. We sent (and lost) troops to Korea, Vietnam, the Indonesia-Malaysian Confrontation, the Sinai, Bosnia, Somalia, Haiti, Kuwait, Kosovo, East Timor etc; NZ troops were sent to the first Gulf War and are currently serving in Afghanistan. And even though we officially condemned the current Iraq War, we sent defence force personnel there to help with post-war reconstruction and the provision of humanitarian aid.

In 1976, NZ’s new National Government announced that it would welcome nuclear-powered and nuclear-armed warships. There were massive street marches in response, and the USS Truxton was brought to a resounding halt by a spectacular protest fleet of 80 vessels, ranging from bathtubs to gin palaces, sailed, paddled or rowed out into Wellington Harbour (our capital), making a physical blockade to stop the US warship.

Election year again in 1984. As the election approached, as a result of intense public pressure, the Labour party committed itself to work actively for a nuclear-free Pacific, and to ban nuclear-powered or nuclear weapon carrying ships. The US decided to test the resolve of the new Labour Government by requesting permission for the USS Buchanan to visit, an obvious rust bucket but still operating under the neither-confirm-nor-deny policy whether it was nuclear-powered or carrying nuclear weapons. David Lange, the new Prime Minister, showed he meant business by saying, “No”.

So after Helen’s visit this week, the FTA is still hanging, but perhaps the US now recognizes that small countries can still support a super-power in general terms and yet appreciate that they can be a positive force for democracy by sticking to their (non-nuclear) guns within their own small borders.

PS. I had a real treat Thursday night - Canadian Ckayaker stayed with us on his journey from Florida back home to Quebec - and SandyBottom joined us for dinner. Just wonderful meeting this absolute gentleman and hearing all about his family and stories from his youth to present day. What a great tool these blogs can be. And one never knows, there could be a paddle way up north on the cards one day...

Everglades Challenge report: Day 7

CP3 to Key Largo
Four or five WaterTribe crews slowly mulled around the marina fingers where our boats had been tied up overnight. Silently and stealthily we one by one made our headtorch-lit ways out into Florida Bay for the final 35 miles leg of the 2007 Everglades Challenge.

SandyBottom and I paddled across to Joe Kemp Key, intent on a short cut. We should have known better. A few circles later, in the very dark, we finally got ourselves back onto Tin Can Channel. In the shallows I disturbed something sleeping. In a huge splash it soaked the heck out of me, and scared the heck out of me. SandyBottom said she couldn’t see me but could definitely hear my reaction from across the water.

Dawn slowly broke and I moved ahead of SandyBottom. We were on our own for this last leg. I caught up with Tyro and PaddleCarver and we chatted away as we paddled together. On the stretch across to Dump Key, I slowly pulled away from these marvelous gentlemen.

Navigation-wise, it turned out to be a fun day. I left the GPS to its own devices and concentrated mainly on my compass and the course I’d previously marked out on my chart.

As the morning wore on, the wind died away, leaving a flat calm sea. It was fascinating seeing the vast spread of Florida Bay all around, and then marveling at the specific narrow channels to make one’s way across. Reaching Twisty Mile, it was just that – a snaky mile of stakes that offered just a couple more feet of water to pass from one stretch to another.

Passing Brush Key I laid a course of 120degrees for the long stretch to Jimmie Channel. Finally through there, and very shallow, I tried to read the markers ahead to bring me up the west side of Manatee Key. They were lost among the green of the key’s mangroves. In a wee bit of impatience and uncertainty, I used my Greenland paddle to push myself across the shallows joining Manatee and Russell Keys. I had been warned not to step out of my boat under any circumstances, that I’d be gobbled up by the mud and never seen again!

Looking back, I could see the definite markers for Manatee Pass – I’d know it was there, as the chart so rightly stated, for next year.

Immediately the water changed colour – from the murky sea of Flamingo to Manatee Pass, to a gorgeous chalky aquamarine. And immediately the wind kicked up. It was a pretty stiff head wind and two-foot chop for the rest of the entire leg. I felt that I was making interminable progress as Stake Key, and then Bottle Key, and then Butternut Key slowly crept past. But kind of happy at the same time – I didn’t want to rush finishing such a great adventure.

Aside of Butternut Key I realized that I’d slogged up a bit high. It was great to be able to raise the Pacific Action Sail for the last time and I had an excellent off-wind ride back into the main channel, lined up for the last three mile or so slog up to Baker Cut.

Roo and Tinker’s EC22 sailed swiftly up to greet me. On board was Roo, SOS, DancesWithSandyBottom and Wizard, all out to welcome the last few WaterTribers coming home. I warned them that they were a wee bit behind me.

They headed off back to Key Largo, tacking all the way up to Baker Cut. It was fun to very nearly keep up with them as I kept up my direct slog into the wind.

Around Baker Cut corner, past Pelican Key, and I headed across into Sunset Cove. It was hard to believe, and somewhat sad, that these were my last few metres of paddling. There were WaterTribe waves from the jetty, and I gave a last quick paddle to push my boat up on to the beach. It was 15:08, and I’d been on the water for just over ten hours. There, waiting for me on bended knees with flowers and a very welcome cold beer, was a friendly face – KneadingWater.

Everglades Challenge report: Day 6

Last leg of the Wilderness Waterway
0400. “Are you awake, Dawn?” “Yep.” “Let’s go. I can’t sleep either.” So off we went. Thankfully the tide was up and we could repack our boats leaning over the side of the chickee. The snoring continued behind us as we softly paddled off into the dark. The stars were still magnificent.

And for the very first time in our Wilderness Waterway adventure, there was a current helping push us along. It had to be a good sign. Surely KneadingWater would be waiting for us at Oyster Bay Chickee.

Down the Harney River we paddled, following the track of the rising sun. Not a breath of wind, we silently slid along. At marker 9, we turned into Shark River. At Shark River Chickee, around 0730, SavannahDan and Paddlemaker were still fast asleep. SandyBottom made a short detour to check if KneadingWater was also there. He wasn’t.

Into Whitewater Bay we paddled, sails up. At marker 2 we made a detour for Oyster Bay Chickee. Surely KneadingWater would be waiting there for us. 0900, and he wasn’t. SandyBottom was almost beside herself. I managed to persuade her to wait until we got to Flamingo before we called the Coast Guard.

We had a good following breeze for most of Whitewater Bay, but in the last few hours, the wind died out completely and the temperatures hit the upper C20s or F80s. We were both pretty quiet.

Entering Coot Bay, a tourist boat passed us. Over his loud speaker, the tour guide asked us if we were doing the Wilderness Waterway and how long it had taken us. We were, SandyBottom acknowledged, and it had taken us two-and-a-half days. “That has to be a record,” the guide explained to his followers. “Normally, folks take ten days doing about ten miles a day.” SandyBottom and I looked at each other.

The last mile or so down Buttonwood Canal, I turned to SandyBottom. “I’ve been thinking what we should say to who ever the race manager is at Flamingo. Let’s ask if KneadingWater has checked in. If he has, fine. If he hasn’t, then we can say we may have a small problem.” SandyBottom had been thinking along the same lines. She was convinced he’d met his maker; I was pretty sure he was having a beer in Flamingo.

We reached the haul out ramp in Flamingo at 15:15, and SandDollar rushed to greet us. “KneadingWater’s checked in!” were her first words. News seemed to have traveled fast. We let the expletives fly and relief overcome us. And where was he so we could pummel him into unconsciousness? “He left early this morning for Key Largo.”

We found the trolley - one tyre now deflated - hauled our boats across to the seaward side of Flamingo’s marina and tied them up to a marina finger – they almost looked like real boats.

It was a relaxed afternoon. We popped a hamburger in the microwave at the local store, and it was as good as the young salesman claimed. I had my last mouthful in my fingers as I scratched my head, and a seagull instantly stole it (and nearly my finger). We even had an ice-cream for desert.

We emptied our boats and repacked everything in preparation for tomorrow’s final leg. We beat off the pelicans as they came to claim anything not tied down. We chatted with the four or five other WaterTribe crews working alongside us. And we slowly waited for dusk so we could find somewhere to stealth camp for the night.

With a perfect Florida Bay sea view, albeit dark, SandyBottom and I pitched hammock and tent respectively, tucked away out of harm’s way, and slept soundly until I woke her at 0400.

Everglades Challenge report: Day 5

Half-way through the Wilderness Waterway
Unbeknownst to KneadingWater, we were dragging his slumbering body out of his pit at pre-sparrow fart – 0430 – he succumbed with remarkably good grace. Well on our way, around mid-morning, he decided to take a stretch at Rogers River Bay Chickee – where we’d actually meant to stay the night. Just leaving there was Tim – a chap in a single kayak in his late sixties, puttering around the ‘glades for a few days. He sounded British.

We agreed to all catch up again at the end of Cabbage Island Channel, a shortcut KneadingWater had recommended, meeting up with Broad River. If we missed each other, we’d call on channel 69 at 10:30.

We never saw him again, until the finish at Key Largo.

Sandybottom and I cruised down Cabbage Island Channel, which is only 10-15ft wide, with a few fallen trees here and there, but completely manageable. Here we saw ‘gators to match all ‘gators. A few small ones sunning themselves on the side of the bank, and then big-momma – all 18 or so feet of him or her.

At the T-junction of the Channel and Broad River we delighted at the speed the current was heading out – we’d be at the coast before we knew it. We waited for KneadingWater, and we waited some more. We called him on the VHF every five minutes – nothing. We finally decided that he’d fallen off the chickee, knocked himself out, his boat had blown away and he’d drowned. Personally I thought he’d gone the other way around to show us how fast he really was – men can pull tricks like that. So back we paddled the nearly three miles to Rogers River Bay Chickee. Got within a few feet and yelled ourselves hoarse – no boat, no body, no KneadingWater.

Anger was turning to fear by this time. SandyBottom was convinced that, if alive, he’d wait for us back at the intersection of the Channel and Broad River. So back we paddled another three miles down Cabbage Island Channel – this time the 18ft ‘gator slowly slid off the bank and idly cruised towards us...

Back at Broad River, no KneadingWater. And now the tide had turned and the current was 3-4mph against us. It took us four hours to make the coast. (We learned later that KneadingWater had taken another channel and had caught the tide out Broad River, making that leg in well under an hour.)

Just before we hit the coast, we met two chaps in a speedboat hunkering down for the evening at Broad River Chickee. No, they hadn’t seen a chap in an orange kayak, but shared our now growing concern. They also warned us that it was pretty rough outside and they wouldn’t be heading out there if they were us. We left them, and before hitting the coast, pulled over and clothed up. We should have waited until we’d actually got there. It was flat calm and still quite warm in the waning afternoon sun. We took everything off again.

Down the coast we paddled, marveling at the destruction the hurricanes had caused on the shorelined trees. We slipped into Broad Creek and continued east down the Wilderness Waterway (WW). (Later we learned that KneadingWater had come in at Harney River, thus another opportunity to catch up had been lost, and he’d gained even more hours on us by missing the upcoming tangle of Broad Creek.)

Night fell. Between markers 17 and 16, the WW truly became the WW. In pitch black, for almost a mile, we crept through fallen trees and mangroves, branches breaking off all over us. At one point, with two logs across our path, I saw the fortitude of SandyBottom that has got her three previous ECs and the Ultimate Florida Challenge – nothing was going to stop her – and it took some maneuvering to get her bigger Kruger under and around those fallen logs.

Every now and then we’d double check that we hadn’t taken some other non-existent route, but both chart and GPS can’t be wrong.

Our plan, and permit, was to camp at Oyster Bay Chickee for the night, but we’d lost hours waiting and searching for KneadingWater. We decided to stop for the night at Harney River Chickee. Surely KneadingWater would be waiting there for us. Tim, the chap we’d met earlier in the day, was already in his hammock as we arrived. But no KneadingWater.

“Are you British?” I asked Tim as he so wonderfully helped us shore up and unload, the tide being quite a way down and the ladder a good clamber out of an ocean cockpit. “No”, he replied. “It’s just an affected accent.”

We strung hammocks, gobbled down some food, and listened to Tim tell us that KneadingWater’s disappearance was bound to be a Federal case and that we should be calling the Coast Guard. Although very helpful otherwise, these comments were not. I could see me losing my Green Card application. I could see Chief spitting tacks. I was trying to figure out which was the worst scenario. The worry over this kayaker I’d only met a few days previously, but had taken a liking for, was killing us and ruining our trip.

An hour later SavannahDan and Paddlemaker cruised their way past. No, they hadn’t seen KneadingWater.

Another hour later, Frogy130 and CatLady arrived in their sit-on-top tandem, and joined Tim on his side of the chickee. They, too, hadn’t seen KneadingWater.

The snoring levels increased ten-fold.

Two hours later I heard the unmistakeable crunch of fiberglass – jumped out of my hammock to find the tandem slowly being crushed with the rising tide trapping it under the chickee. It took all of my 125lbs standing and then jumping on it to free it.

The snoring continued.

We got some sleep…

Everglades Challenge report: Day 4

Entering the Wilderness Waterway
Novel beginning to this morning’s Everglades Challenge – we actually got to sleep in a few hours. The Ranger’s station didn’t open until 0800, so we were stuck until then. Dr. Kayak kindly drove me, SandyBottom, KneadingWater and the Lori half of NatureCalls the few miles up the road, and we were second in line when the station doors opened.

The night before – must have been the hot pizza - both Kneading Water and I agreed to accompany SandyBottom on her quest for the coveted alligator tooth. One of her reasons for using the Balogh sailing rig this year, was to pick up some extra time so she could fit in the one or two additional days and 30 additional miles to complete the Wilderness Waterway (WW). Hey, I could see myself with a coveted alligator tooth, and I was a day and a half ahead of my personal schedule – what was the point of beating all the boys and sitting on a beach for three days when I could be paddling! KneadingWater had already completed the WW a year or so earlier, so he was along for the ride.

Instead of leaving direct from the northern side of Chokoloskee, we carried the boats – fully laden with straps – across the road to the eastern side. This saved us an extra mile or so of paddling around the bottom of the island, and after watching ShallowMindedII spend nearly an hour dragging his boat out through the mud, we were so sure we’d made the right decision.

And feeling as though we were on spring break, off we went – about 10:00. Full of good plans to make the camp spots we had on our Everglades permit, we charged forth. Convinced I was finally going to see an alligator, I had my eyes peeled. And sure enough, paddling through the narrow channel of Alligator Channel, there s/he was in his/her full 5ft glory. Very cool.

I hadn’t quite expected what the WW was – huge ‘lakes’ connected by varying sizes of channels – and so it goes on. And before we knew it, lethargy had taken over. Well before any respectable WaterTriber would stop for the night (after a mere 25 or so miles of paddling) we weighed anchor at Lostmans Five, a ground site. We even had a hot meal before the sun went down.

Early to bed, male snoring did its bit, not counting the endless rustle of palm rats tearing circles around my tent and occasionally banging into it, as well as a raccoon who somehow managed to get hold of a glow stick, which left a pleasant aurora near the end of my tent for a good few hours. All-in-all, a restful night.