Texas Water Safari 2011

by guthriealexander posted January 9, 2012 category Canoe, Race, Travis, Water Safari

It all started after my Dad was our team captain for the 2010 Texas Water Safari. He experienced first hand the epic adventure that is held within the 100 hours of the toughest canoe race in the world. About a month after my partner Brian Jones and I had finished the 2010 Texas Water Safari my dad called me with the confidence that he could do it in 2011. Knowing this race wasn’t just something you could go out and try one weekend I tested his commitment with the explanation of us having to find a boat, rig it, time for training runs on the river, and the cost of all of it.

His commitment held strong throughout the year. From a weekend road trip to Minnesota to pick up our Wenonah Escape canoe, to training runs on the San Marcos and the Guadalupe River every weekend that spring, my Dad kept a great attitude of determination. With all the organizing, training, and boat rigging, race day came fast. With our wonderful support crew made up of my mom, my wife Tracy, and our family friend Julie we put our kevlar Escape in the crystal clear waters of Spring Lake, the start of the San Marcos River. From there it would be 260+ miles of paddling, dragging, and slogging down to the coast of Texas. With the current drought throughout Texas, the river was especially low and slow. The going would be slow and hard but we were determinded to finish. We held a good pace for the first 40 miles traversing through Cotton Seed Rapids and portaging over several dams and other obstacles. My dad was tense and looked to be wearing down fast. I started to think we may have pushed it too hard in the beginning. We just needed to make it to Luling where our team captains would be waiting to encourage us on and allow us to rest.

My dad and I at the start of the race in Aquarina Springs.

It is a mad dash to the first portage out of Spring Lake.

The last leg of Rio Vista Rapids. We started out at a steady pace to get my dad acclimated to race conditions. The first couple miles there is a lot of action with a concentrated number of boats swerving in and out, over and under obstacles on narrow, winding river.

It was slow going down the upper San Marcos River. The river flow was slow and debris filled the river like an obstacle course. The first 40 miles took a toll on my dads muscles and digestive system.

The first 40 miles took us to the Official Checkpoint of Luling 90. Racers must make it to this point by 7 pm of the first day. We made it at around 4:30 but my dad was showing signs of fatigue while hiding signs of a something more detrimental to our goal of finishing. After a good 15 minute break talking to our team captains and letting my dad take a breather we jumped back in the boat feeling rested. My dad was in a good mood talking and enjoying the race now. We made good steady progress and stopped worrying about our overall placement in the race. This was one of the more memorable times of the race; an opportunity to spend some great, quality time with my dad. The night slowly started rolling in while the river slowly filled with even more obstacles. It would be a rough night ahead with all the things we had to navigate. At this time I observed my dad had not eaten anything all day and barely drank any fluids. With all the getting in and out of the boat to push and pull it over fallen trees and gravel bars my dad was getting extremely exhausted. It was around 9 pm and we were closing in on Palmetto State Park at around mile marker 60. It is a good checkpoint for resting and the feeling of accomplishment. The last hurdle we had to go through before reaching the park was the treacherous Ottine dam. The dam requires a portage that is the longest of the entire course. My dad barely had enough energy to help me push the boat up the 15 foot sand embankment to an open field where we would drag/ carry the canoe for about 100-200 yards. I told my dad upon making it into the open field to just walk it off and I would drag the canoe myself. He argued but finally gave in. It was 200+ miles to the finish but at this point I was worried about even making it to Palmetto State Park.

Keeping in good spirits the first 40 miles. We were trying to keep up our overall placement of around 30.

My dad desperately needed a rest at the Luling 90 Checkpoint. Trying to relax all of his tired muscles in the water.

Resupplying and eating.

We finally made it to Palmetto State park at around 11 pm. My mom and Julie met up with us to check us in and to see how we were doing. I told my mom my dad hadn’t been eating and it was taking its toll on him. She asked me to tear off a piece of my PB&J sandwich I was eating and give it to him. He wouldn’t take a bite. We just sat there in the boat at the low water crossing of the park, too tired to talk or think about what to do next. My dad finally decided he was going the park pavilion to sleep for a bit. I agreed, thinking it would help him feel better, and finished preparing things for the rest of the dark night ahead of us.

It was about an hour later that I got the bad news. My mom came looking for me as I was laying in the grass in the dark a little ways outside the pavilion. I was anxious. I had seen many boats pass by during the time my dad was trying to rest. I was feeling fine and was impatient to get going again. My mom told me to follow her to the pavilion. Knowing deep down what I was walking into was bad news I tried to prepare myself. My dad had tears coming down his face. He told me he had been suffering the past few hours from a hiatal hernia a condition that is extremely painful and can be deadly if not dealt with. I told him that everything would be alright and that I wish he had told me his situation earlier because I cared a lot more about him than I did the race! I was heart broken. I was so sad all of the work we had put into the race was being cut short just 60 miles into the race. I had a decision to make though. I was still able, per the rules, to carry on on my own if I desired. How in the world would I be able to paddle another 200 miles by myself though. So many thoughts went through my head in the few second after hearing the unfortunate news. Could I push on myself? Could I even steer the canoe by myself with all the debris and river currents? Should I go out trying knowing it was inevitable that I wasn’t going to finish this year? But without much internal debate I made up my mind. I was going on.

I told my dad good bye and told him how much I would miss him. I left the pavilion with my mom hot on my trail. I figured she was going to do the motherly thing and try to stop me but instead she told me she had talked to a race official that has suggestions on how to make it down the river by myself. I was grateful and encouraged my mom was behind me. At this point my wife Tracy had know idea of all that had taken place since she was asleep. She soon woke up to my dad in the car with her and simply asked “Travis went on didn’t he?” It was true, I had gone on. At first it just wasn’t working. I tried sitting in the front, I tried sitting in the stern. I finally found enough rocks, mud, and tree stumps to through in the bow of the boat it offset my weight and I was able to track pretty straight down the river. The next checkpoint was in Gonzales 25 miles away. I left Palmetto at around 12:30 in 47th place out of 105. I had to learn quick how to handle the boat by myself in the dark with all the obstacles in the water. By 7:30 the next morning I was pulling into Gonzales 183 checkpoint after a long, emotional night. I had made it 25 miles in around 5 hours by myself in a tandem at night!

There were a bunch of people cheering me on as I came in to the checkpoint. Brian and his partner were there still and so were Brians parents. Unfortunately Brian's parents had to pull out of the race due to sickness and Brian's partner was also quitting.

The next section was 40 miles of all day paddling just to reach the next checkpoint. Brian decided to continue on with me in his aluminum canoe. So, it was two former partners both going solo in tandem boats! After about 5 miles we realized it was a terrible idea. We stopped a lot due to the extreme heat and stillness of the water. We would lay on the bank and talk about how we would both just pull out at the next checkpoint and go eat Mexican food. It was hopeless and we both new it. We calculated head how fast we would have to go to make it to the finish by 100 hours. We did this so many times that the numbers kept getting skewed and it looked inevitable at the pace we were going that we wouldn’t make it. About 3 pm after I could tell Brian was getting frustrated and tired. A few boats had slowly passed us and began to talk about how people at the last checkpoint and other boats were talking about what we were trying to do. It gave a little boost of energy and encouragement to me. Enough that I started to pick up the pace and just make it to the next checkpoint. I told myself if I make it to Hochiem by 8 I will keep going. By 7 I was pulling up to Hochiem with a crowd of people waiting.

Pulling into Hochiem. Brian was about and hour or so behind me at this point.

Many couldn't believe I had gotten there as fast as I did. They encouraged me that if I kept this same pace I could finish around 85 hours.

Heading off into the dusk. It would be another long night.

Brian coming in to Hochiem.

Brian was trying to hold fast to what we had discussed during the day; that we would get out at this checkpoint! His parents were super patient and kept encouraging him to keep going. He finally did end up continueing after he rested a while.

Through the night I battled my mind. Where was I? Am I on the right river? What is that on the shore?! The bugs were out in full force flying into my eyes, mouth, and nostrils. The bugs however helped me stay awake since at this point in my journey I still had not actually slept. It was now about 36 hours into the race and I was somewhere between Hochiem and Cheapside checkpoints. I was wet and cold from having to jump out of the boat so many times to either save it, or pull it over a gravel bar or tree. It was getting old and I was getting delirious. At around 1 am I pulled into the busy checkpoint of Cheapside. There were a lot of boat spread along the shore. This was a tough night for everyone it seemed and people were getting exhausted. My support crew found me and get me restocked with water and pleaded with me to finally sleep. I was freezing cold and new I wouldn’t be able to relax but went ahead and pulled out my emergency blanket and tried to sleep for an hour. All I could think about was the river. I have to keep going. I yelled out to my Dad that I was going and he and my mom came and waived me off down the river for another couple hours of darkness. The next major checkpoint I was trying to make it to was where the preliminary race starts. Cuero at highway 236. I made it to the 236 bridge at around 8:30 and was elated! The end seemed so tangible at this point. The next checkpoint I needed to worry about was 40 miles down at Victoria and then from there only another 60+ miles to the seawall at Seadrift! Just a little over 100 miles I told myself and then realized I had gone about 100 miles on my own already.
The next 40 miles usually takes around 6-7 hours in the prelim race but with current conditions it ended up taking me a slow 12 hours. I was exhausted when I pulled into the ramp at Victoria. The day had been long, hot, and windy and was stressful due to a couple of dangerous rapids that are hard to navigate by yourself.

Getting support and water from my TC. It is always good to see someone on the river when you are so lonely.

Leaving was always hard but I had to keep paddling. I minimized my stops to no more than 10 minutes if I could.

Pulling into Vicotria after what seemed forever.

My body was hurting everywhere at this point. My wrist which had been bothering me before the race even started was now feeling extremely stiff and my butt was started to get completely raw from being wet the entire time.

It was Monday night and with about another hour of sleep I was up to a total of around 3 hours since Friday night. I was starting to feel a little sick at my stomach and I new I needed to do something about it. I tried to eat and drink and just put it out of my mind but it was coming on strong. Through the night the river started feeling like another world. I was delirious, tired, and wasn’t feeling good. My attitude was poor and I needed a pick me up. During the night I was able to use the bathroom which took care of my stomach issues. I also decided to reward myself by turning my music on. I knew it would last for about 16 hours and I hoped it would take me into the finish. The next 50 or so miles were just more of the same. Long distances between checkpoints, hot air and slow water. By Tuesday afternoon my butt was completely raw and almost all the skin was worn off from the rocking of the boat and the fact that the water was becoming very silty. I couldn’t sit any longer. I took off my pants and kneeled in the middle of boat and paddled to try and let my butt dry out. This was not very successful and decided to pull over and lay in the sun and let it dry. The banks in this section of the river were very steep and tall. I pulled the boat over and climbed up the bank. Unfortunately I had forgotten to tie up the boat to a tree. I was climbing back down to tie the canoe but ended up slipping and fell right on my soggy butt and slid down the hard dirt embankment! I was so mad. I had tears coming out of my eyes it hurt so bad. I was so frustrated I just got back in the canoe and kept going. After making my way through the infamous logjam and battling mosquitoes, and fire ants, I reached the saltwater barrier. the final checkpoint before hitting the bay! After a nice hour long rest at the SWB, I headed straight into the wind around 6 pm on Tuesday towards the bay.

Getting ready to leave Victoria

Trying to continue eating and drinking even though I didn't want to

My faithful team captains wating for me on early Tuesday morning.

Pit stop at the Saltwater Barrier

Boat is defintely disgusting at this point.

Some last minute encouragement from the family and friends and two well known Texas paddlers

The river narrows just before the bay. The sun was going down and I will never forget the feeling I had during these last hours of daylight on Tuesday.

I was very anxious upon hitting the bay but I went out and took it head on.

I had reached the bay. I felt more excitement here than the excitement I felt upon finishing. The setting coming into the bay was serene. The sun was going down, the wind was low, and the water looked calm! I headed straight out into the bay. I usually go straight across and then go up next to the shore but I wanted to get finished and my chance was now! I made a b-line for the tip of the barrier island next to the shipping channel and paddled hard into the oncoming wind and waves. The wind started to pick up and the waves started impacting my progress. Suddenly it was too hard to manage. The wind caught the front of my boat and slung it back in the other direction. I couldn’t correct it. I fought but it was no use. The waves were hitting me sideways now and I was fearful I was going to flip in. I was so angry. I had lost all the ground I had gained and now it was windy and wavy. Once I got within a safe distance from the grass reeds I jumped out and started walking my boat. It was chest deep and waves would push me back every step I took. The sun was down now and I was fighting to find my bearing. I stayed next to the grasses and walked for what seemed forever. Eventually I tried getting back in my boat and paddling but it was no good. After 4 hours of walking in the mud I reached the barrier island that borders the shipping channel. On the island I saw a number of lights of headlamps looking around for ways through the reeds or teams setting up to take a rest for a while. I wasn’t going to stop again and I was less than 2 miles away. Without even hesitating I waded out into the shipping channel, pointed my canoe at the opposite shore and paddled like a mad man. As soon as I made it to the other side I jumped out elated and started wading the rest of the way to the wall. The first person I saw was Brian. Brian had had to call for rescue a little before Victoria because his boat had been stuck under a huge sweeper. I was so glad to see him and thankful he was still here waiting for me to make it in. Finally I made it to the stairs and with the help of 2 officials pulled my canoe out of the water for the last time. Everyone was there. My parents, my wife, Julie, Brian, and Brian’s parents! I had made it 260 hard miles in 89 hours and 11 minutes. From leaving Palmetto in 47th place and going 200 miles on my own I ended up finishing in 46th place! It was the journey of a lifetime and something I will never forget.