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

Everglades Challenge race report: Day 2

Day 2: A few miles shy of CP1 to Sanibel Bridge

But the real delight of being shy of CP1 (apart from dragging our boats down the mud, as per the photo above) was that for the first time I actually got to see in the daylight those last ten miles or so, in previous ECs spent in dark, scary obliviousness. And very scenic they are too. You can now see the car ferry crossing, rather than just hear those enormous motors bearing down on you.

1040 and we arrived at CP1, also quite different in the daylight. We sadly learned that the two young lads from Singapore had had to withdraw the previous day, after one of them had broken his wrist—his hand dangling between the two kayaks, it had been crushed with the rough wake of a passing speedboat.

Photo by Amy: replenishing water supplies at CP1

But after signing in, replenishing water supplies enough for the couple of days to get us to CP2, replastering sun screen and pressure points and the obligatory chatter, we were off. Into a stiff 10-15 knots headwinds and a very lumpy open harbour chop. We chopped up to Sandfly Key, taking what lee shelter we could, watching TroutHeart and Trader away to our left cutting into what shelter was possible, and there met up with SandDollar, DrKayak and StripBuilder.

To keep out of the hugely exasperating boat wake and chop of the Intra Coastal Waterway down western Pine Island Sound, we decided to head down the eastern side—a first for me—and what a blissful experience. Very few craft, well posted and not so “open.” But not before a very civilized lunch on a small white warm beach at the northern end of Pine Island at the eastern entrance to Bokeelia Island.

Lunch stop, Bokeelia Island

As dusk crept on, the wind died away completely, a huge moon reflecting our every dip. Just KW, SB and me by this stage, trudging along around 2knots towards Sanibel Bridge, against a strong tide, time ticking later and later while we tiredly mused where to spend the night. KW paddled over to the very luxurious hotels just before Sanibel Bridge and called back over to us, “$250 dollars a night!” While I was all up for it, SB loudly retorted that such an action was “not in the WaterTribe spirit!” I still beg to differ, particularly around 2300 hours.

But just under the bridge and around the corner to your left, a wee paddle past the bridge’s toll gates, is a length of sandy beach interspersed with the occasional shrub to hide oneself just enough behind. Here we found NatureCalls, tandem kayak drawn up the beach, tent pitched, sound asleep. And here we made our last stand for the evening. What traffic?

Image: Google Earth: camp spot outside Sanibel Bridge

Everglades Challenge race report: Day 1

Day 1: Race start to somewhere short of CP1

SandyBottom (aka Dawn) and I had had another excellent road trip down to Florida’s Fort DeSoto on the Thursday before the March 7 race. Highlight, of course, was stopping for the best fried chicken in the US midway through Georgia—a hideaway we’d discovered last year. And the flat tire early Friday morning in the campground, which only held us up for 15 minutes before using Dawn’s fabulous new Christmas Garmin to find the nearest breakfast joint serving eggs benedict, our traditional day-before-the-race-starts-breakfast.

Another wonderful coincidence was that our Durham neighbours, not four houses up the street, happened also to be camping at Ft DeSoto, and with their Canadian friends served us cocktails Friday night, and were also there on the beach at 0630 race day to wave us off—cheers, Kathy and Doug!

Friday afternoon’s captains’ meeting brought together many wonderful old friends, as well as new faces for their first Challenge. One new face was StripBuilder, the first EC contestant from Iowa, who arrived on the beach to pack his spanking newly built strip-built kayak with three beautifully handcrafted laminated Greenland paddles, and left with two—sporting a thinner and slightly longer loom than my previous, and narrower longer paddles, his newly-purchased-by-me-GP was a delight the entire 2009 EC.

With all the boats packed and prepped ready for an early departure the next morning, we trotted off as the park closed to carbo-load at the local Italian (beer from the pub next door purely for additional carbs).

0700 Saturday morning and we are off! Into the light to medium winds and against the tide pretty much the entire race. Not as bad as last year’s wind-on-the-nose EC, with excellent weather this time the entire race, but still noticeable.

Photo by Doug and Kathy: We're off the beach!

And then my GPS died—probably only managed ten nautical miles. Charts and a good memory (courtesy of having been there before and Google Earth) are just fine… (I ended up borrowing one of KneadingWater’s three GPS, but only used it the last day. But one of my best conversations with FliesWithKiwiBird a few hours later, when advising her my GPS was no more was her reaction: “Well, what about your backup?!” to remind her that she had banned purchasing a backup, as part of my boating cost-cutting exercise.)

For some unfathomable reason (perhaps only two paddling episodes on local Lake Jordan prior to the race that I deemed to be “my training”), today and each day felt as though I was towing a drogue—but perhaps that’s age as well—yet considering I’m one of the “younger” paddlers in both my Class 1 and Class 2, that’s no excuse. Yet I had made the conscious decision (reinforced by FliesWithKiwiBird) that this year I was to be in the cruiser division, not out to break any more records or again win Class 1 as last year, but to enjoy the challenge, take a few new routes and spend some quality time with KneadingWater and SandyBottom.

And that’s how Day 1 panned out—a slower day than the previous two years, spent taking out-of-the-boat pee stops (a new civilized concept for me—in fact, only once in the entire race through necessity did I need to use my sponge), sneaking snack breaks while not paddling and, heaven above, actually stopping and alighting for lunch!

Photo by SandyBottom: What she calls my "AndrewMcAuley look."

Which may be why, convivially accompanying KW and SB, we stopped for the night around 2230 hrs, about seven to eight miles north and shy the total 67 miles (108km) to Placida’s CP1, hauled our boats out of the water up on to dry land, cooked a bit of a meal and “slept” until 0700, ruined by that early morning’s switch to daylight saving.

For more fabulous photos of the start, click here, courtesy of Kathy and Doug Roach (our neighbours up the road).