Cursed With Ambition

Safari Training Update: The Texas River Marathon aka "The Prelim"

This past weekend Robo and I participated in our first races together.  On Saturday we did the 38.35 mile Texas River Marathon, so called "The Prelim" because your finish position in that race determines your starting position in the Safari.  The Prelim course runs from the FM 236 bridge over the Guadalupe River just south of Cuero to the Riverside Park boat ramp in Victoria.  This section of the river is relatively tame.  There are numerous sections of fast current, a few sweepers, gravel bars and two sets of rapids that are large enough to have names.  But compared to the upper section of the San Marcos, it's a piece of cake.

We arrived in Victoria Friday night around 10 and we had some last minute rigging to do on the boat.  I had spent nearly every waking hour over the previous two weeks refinishing the boat to get it ready for these races.  Almost every evening I would rush home from work, change into grubby clothes and head into the garage to work on it until well past midnight.  When we got it, the boat was in pretty rough shape.  There were gouges and scratches on the hull and lots of runs and bubbles in the epoxy from poorly done repairs or refinish jobs.  The epoxy was flaking off of the wood gunnels in spots and it was all pretty badly UV damaged (susceptibility to UV damage is probably the foremost weakness of the epoxy).  And that was just the exterior hull of the boat.  Inside the boat there were gobs of dried adhesives and foam residue.  And a lot of the rigging for the rudder pedals and cables, jug holders, paddle holders and pumps needed to be reworked.  My plan was to sand the entire hull smooth, recoat the hull below the waterline with a graphite infused epoxy coating and recoat above the waterline and the gunnels with fresh clear epoxy.  I was also going to do a lot of rigging inside the boat as well.  I had never done any of this before, so I gathered as much information as I could from other racers, the company that manufactured and sold the epoxy and on boatbuilding websites.  Before I started I had a pretty good idea of what to do.  But there is only so much you can learn from reading.  You just have to do it to really know.

I got all of my supplies and materials together and started the most difficult and time-consuming step:  sanding.  I used an electric pad sander and it was very loud and dusty.  I had good safety equipment:  goggles, ear plugs, a respirator, gloves, long pants and sleeves.  I estimate it took me around 24 hours to completely sand the hull.  What made it even more challenging is that I had to stop sanding around 9 every night so as not to piss off the neighbors.  As it was, one of my neighbors came over twice to ask me to quit because his sick baby was trying to sleep.  Whenever I had to stop sanding I would flip the boat over and work on the rigging.  I cut a new jug holder out of minicell foam and glued it in, replaced the rudder cables, replaced the foam extensions on the rudder pedals, repaired one of the pump bases, replaced all of the zip ties holding the wires and hoses for the pumps, replaced the wiring, built battery packs for the pumbs and made a way to secure them, removed probably close to half a pound of old glue and residue and a lot of other things.  Finally I finished sanding and I was able to start the coating process.  I was really looking forward to the coating steps because I knew that the boat would start coming together and I would be able to see the results of my work, but I was also a little scared because I had never used epoxy before and it is difficult to work with.  The main reason is that it has a short "pot life," meaning that once you mix the resin and hardener together you have a short time to apply it before it starts setting up.  In my case, I bought the slow hardener so I would have about 20 minutes per batch to apply the coating.  I was starting with the graphite bottom.  The graphite bottom coating is just regular 2 part epoxy with graphite powder added to it.  The purpose of the graphite coating is so that the bottom of the hull is tougher and more resistant to scratches and gouges and it also slides more easily over logs and rocks.  The coating dries glassy, but you have to sand it down using sandpaper of varying grits until you get down to 400 or 600 grit sandpaper, which is almost like polishing cloth.  That makes the bottom really slick.

I measured the hull and traced the contour of the area that was to get the coating.  I taped it off with masking tape and covered the rest of the boat with masking paper.  I cleaned the hull of dust as best I could.  Then I was ready to start mixing the epoxy.  The epoxy was expensive and I was worried about screwing it up.  You have to mix the resin and hardener in an exact ratio.  Then you've got to hurry to apply it.  I read the directions over and over again and laid out all of the tools I needed so that as soon as I started mixing I wouldn't waste any time.  I measured out the resin, added the hardener then the graphite powder and mixed it.  It was so black that I thought I could actually see the mixture sucking up light.  I poured it into my small paint tray and used my high quality foam roller to start putting it on the boat.  I hustled and used up my first batch with time to spare.  I had coated about 2/3 of the hull with it.  I mixed another batch and repeated all of my steps.  I then used a foam brush to "tip" the uncured epoxy, which smooths out any runs and takes out any air bubbles.  The finish was almost perfectly smooth and it looked awesome.  I was really excited and I couldn't wait to apply the clear coat.

It takes about 24 hours for the epoxy to fully cure, so the next night I sanded the new coating so I could apply the second coat.  You have to sand it to create surface area on a microscopic scale so that the coating with stick better.  You have to be careful not to sand off the entire coating, though.  I probably sanded too much off.  I mixed my expoxy, this time in one large batch instead of two, and started applying it.  I got about 3/4 of the boat covered when the epoxy started setting up.  I should have just stopped and made up a new batch to finish the job, but I didn't want to waste any.  I tore up a roller with the thickening mixture and had to quickly change it out.  The epoxy was going on in lumps and clots and looked like hell.  I ended up using a putty knife to scrape some of the bigger chunks off before it dried.  I tried to tip it smooth as best I could, but it was still lumpy and uneven.  It wasn't the end of the world because I knew I would be able to sand most of it smooth.

The next evening I sanded the graphite coating again; this time with three different grits of sandpaper all the way down to 400.  It got late on me so I had to quit using the electric sander and actually finished the last two hours by hand.  It was hard, hard work.  But damn it looked good.

The next evening I masked the boat to coat the gunnels and the hull above the waterline.  At the last minute I decided to restain the gunnels with a rich walnut stain.  I was going to have to wait for it to dry before putting on the epoxy, but it was worth it.  I'm glad I did, because it really made the boat's appearance a whole lot better.  I let it dry for an hour or so while I got some dinner then I started getting ready for the clear coat epoxy.  This step was a  more delicate because this was a clear coating and any mistakes were going to be very noticeable.  I learned from my mistakes on the graphite coating and only mixed enough epoxy to do half the boat.  As soon as I started rolling it on, I knew that the boat was going to be beautiful.  Carbon fiber has a metallic checkerboard appearance and is very attractive with a clear coating.  It looked exactly like I thought it was supposed to look.  I mixed the second batch of epoxy and applied it just like the first.  I tipped it with the foam brush and I couldn't stop walking around looking at it.  I had outdone myself.

The next day was the Friday before the race.  I got home from work, pulled off all of the masking tape and paper and put on the 4" red and white boat number decal, "8321."  With the decal on and the shiny clearcoat, graphite bottom and newly stained gunnels the boat looked magnificent.  I nearly cried it looked so damned good.

We loaded it up and headed for Victoria.  Robo and I did some last minute rigging, securing mesh food bags and securing the wires for the pumps then we went to bed.

The race was to start at 9, but I wanted to be at the starting line at 8 because I knew it would take us a while to get sign in, get our gear situated and get the boat launched.  Plus, I knew the starting line was going to be a clusterfuck of 70-plus teams doing the same things.  Of course, somehow we got a late start.  It took a while to get the water jugs filled and drinks mixed with our high-tech powdered endurance fuel.  Plus, just getting your body ready takes a long time.  You've got to apply Desitin to your ass, body glide everywhere that could chafe, put on nipple covers, take electrolyte pills and Advil, put Vitamin E on your hands to prevent blisters...there's a lot of shit.  We got to the starting area a little before 8:30.  We were panicky because we were running late.  We went down to the sign in to pick up our t-shirts and sign the waivers when we overheard people talking about their team captains.  Oh shit!  Our team captain is my fiance' and she came to Victoria with me for that specific purpose.  In an effort to try to be accomodating to her I told her she didn't need to be at the starting line so she could sleep in, which was totally fucking stupid on my part.  The rules required a TC and I knew that.  Why wouldn't they need to be present at the start?  Frantically I called her.  She didn't answer so I called my parents' house where we were staying.  My mom answered and I told her that we couldn't start without our TC.  My Mom and Dad brought her in record time.  As it turned out, the race officials were too overwhelmed to check out everyone's TC, so we could have started without her.

We got all of the gear secured in the boat and hauled it to the river bank.  The race director called out over a bullhorn, "Two minutes."  There was a line of boats trying to launch.  We were panicky about getting in the water in time.  We put the boat in facing upriver.  Just when we both got seated the starting siren when off and all of the boats lurched forward with paddles churning up the water.  We were faced the wrong way and there was a tree sticking out of the water preventing us from turning.  To make matters worse, Robo got tangled up in some fishing line hanging off of the tree.  It seemed like it took FOREVER to get untangled, get turned downriver and take off.  In reality it was probably less than thirty seconds.

The good thing about starting slow or near the back is that for at least a while you are overtaking and passing boats.  It feels good.  It feels like you are winning.  During the first hour or so we overtook a dozen or more boats.  I chatted up a couple of people I knew.  We traded intros with some other teams as we paddled alongside.  Things were going well and we settled into a manageable pace.  I figured it would take us 6 to 6-1/2 hours to finish the race, so we didn't want to start out too strong.  Eventually we came upon our first decision to take a left or right channel.  The right channel was pushing current right into a sweeper, but the left channel was longer.  We chose to go right and fight the sweeper.  Big mistake.  We went from about 6mph to dead zero as we plowed into a large branch sticking out of the water.  We had done something similar before and had dented in the nose of the boat.  There was no way we hadn't damaged it again.  I got a sick feeling in my stomach.  All that hard, hard work on this beautiful refinish job, and for what?  Just so we could go fuck it all up?  Man I was upset.  But we paddled on.

We passed a couple more boats over the next couple of hours, but everyone was spreading out.  At some point we had to pee and I went first.  We were going to try out our new pee cups.  It didn't work so well.  First of all, the cups are only about 8oz. and apparently I have about a 14oz. bladder.  Cutting a piss off in mid-stream hurts!  Then, when I was done I went to dip the cup in the river to rinse it out and we were going faster than I realized and as soon as the cup hit the water it was ripped out of my hand.  I didn't know what I was going to do if I had to pee again.  I started paddling again and then Robo tried to pee.  The EXACT SAME THING happened to him - the painful mid-stream cutoff and losing his pee cup in the river.

We came upon the first set of rapids that everyone said were the biggest obstacle on the Prelim course.  Since the water was so low, all of the boulders were sticking well out of the water and the channels were clearly defined.  It was a little bumpy going through, but no problems.  A guy in a solo boat who had gone through right in front of us had capsized going through and we passed him as he was gathering up his gear and emptying his boat out.

For most of the race a tandem female team had been about 75 yards behind us and staying right with us.  I knew who they were and they were strong, experienced paddlers.  They called their boat She-Ra.  I set the goal of not letting them pass us.

Eventually fatigue started setting in and we decided to switch over to single blade paddles.  Single blading is easier on the body, but you also lose about 1mph.  My strategy was going to be to single blade to recovery or until the She-Ra got within 40 yards, whichever came first, then switch back to the faster doubles and finish out the race that way.  The She-Ra made up ground on us over about 30-45 minutes.  I was close to calling for the switch when out of nowhere we ran up on a submerged gravel bar and came to a stop.  "Get out of the boat!" I yelled.  I got out immediately to drag the boat back into the channel.  Robo was a little more sluggish either because he wasn't sure what to do or because of fatigue.  The She-Ra passed us right as we got back in the boat.  I called to switch back to the doubles.  The girls saw us switching back to the faster paddles so they knew they had a race on their hands.  We caught up to them and ran neck-and-neck.  They would get a little ahead, then we would.  We dropped back and drafted them a bit.  Then I saw an advantage.  There was another split in the river.  The right channel looked shallow with slow current while the left channel was narrow, but deeper with faster current.  There was a sweeper hanging over one section of the left channel, but I thought we could avoid it.  I used the rudder to turn us into the left channel as I asked Robo if he saw what I was doing.  He said he did, although I'm not sure he agreed with the move.  If we got hung up in the sweeper it was over.  It turned out to be the right move because the current propelled us and the She Ra slowed momentarily as they raked a gravel bar.  We came out slightly ahead of the She-Ra.  From there it was just a back and forth sufferfest.  They would get slightly ahead, then we would.  Eventually, they just had too much and we dropped back about ten yards.  When we were about half a mile from the finish I asked Robo if he had one more push, but he shook his head no.  Good thing too; I didn't have much left either.  So we came in about thirty seconds after the She-Ra in 19th place overall; 4th in Tandem Unlimited class in 5 hours 41 minutes.  The full results are here.

All in all we did better than I expected we would for our first race.  I didn't like getting beaten by the She-Ra, but they are a good team so there should be no shame in that.  I figure we lot as much as 2 minutes by our late start, hitting the stump and running up on the gravel bar.  That probably would have been the difference between finishing before or after the She-Ra, but losing 2 minutes to mistakes for a rookie team is still a pretty clean race.

Aquaterra Tri (Cont.)

Here is a video of the start.  Here is another photo of the start showing the downed K1 with Arild in the water.  You can see me passing on the top right.  I didn't know this until recently, but he broke his paddle somehow and that's how he flipped.  He swam to shore with his boat, borrowed a paddle and continued on.  Here is another photo taken right before the start.  I'm on the left of the screen obscured by an orange paddle.

Once the field thinned out and the helter skelter start was behind me, I settled into my best version of good paddling form and rythm.  I knew I had gone out pretty fast, estimating my pace at 6mph.  Every time I do something like this about ten minutes into it when the pain starts I always ask myself, "Wouldn't it be easier to just stay home and watch TV?"  Then I think of the immortal words of my father:  "All I want to do is drink beer and smoke cigarettes.  But I can't."  That's exactly right.

I concentrated on my form and watched the current of the river for the fastest line.  I figured we'd be paddling for about an hour, so I started to plot my strategy.  One of the guys in front of me, in the other Safari-style boat, I had raced against before and had beaten him by about a minute over a 6.5 mile course.  My plan was to stay within 30 yards or so of him and make a move in the last mile and a half to pass him.  About 20 minutes into it I saw another K1 over my right shoulder.  He was still behind me and not overtaking me.  So now I had two goals:  to pass the guy in front of me and not get passed by the K1.  The river was pretty wide and the water was silty so it was impossible to tell where the deep channels and shallow spots were.  In a few spots a line of fast-moving current would develop where the rest of the river got shallow.  Oftentimes, this line of current also passes on the outside of a curve, which is the longest course to take.  One thing I haven't learned yet is whether it is faster to cut the corner and take the short route or to stay in the current.  On one particular bend I tried to cut it and the other two guys near me took the current.  The K1 overtook me and the Safari boat put another 20 yards on me.  I knew I'd made a mistake, but I also learned to stay in the current.  On the shuttle van on the way to the starting line, the guys driving the shuttle, who were also river guides, told us to stay left of every island.  This I did and I found fast moving current every time.  The tradeoff is that you often have to hug the shore with its overhanging branches if you want to stay in the fastest current.

I tried a couple of times to pull harder and up the stroke rate to catch the two guys in front of me.  I was sitting in 6th place and I wanted to pass one more boat.  The K1 paddler was looking strong and I could tell he was pulling away, but I seemed to be slowly reeling in the Safari boat.  I had passed the guy in the Safari boat in the previous race we'd done together at about the 3/4 mark.  I figured that's where I'd pass him again.  Just then, I could hear a paddle hitting the water behind me.  It was Arild!  He'd gotten back in the water after breaking his paddle and flipping and caught me with about a mile and a half to go!

We finally came upon the bridge that the river guides told us meant we were about a half mile from the finish.  I was about 20 yards behind the Safari boat and as soon as I passed under the bridge I gave it all I had.  There was no way I was going to pass Arild or the other K1, so I was shooting for 6th place.  I passed the Safari boat with about 100 yards to go to the finish and pulled my boat onto the shore where a race director was showing us where to stack our boats.  I got out of my boat clumsily (the legs don't work so good after paddling for so long).  Here's a photo.  My stopwatch said 53 minutes.  Here's one of me pulling my boat on shore.  I call this picture "The Guns of the Navaojorojo."

What I failed to mention was that at the start of the race I knocked my water jug over and all of the water spilled out into the boat.  It was sitting behind me so I couldn't see it.  I tried to suck on my drink tube and there was nothing.  At the time it wasn't too big of a setback, but it would prove to be a big deal later.  Normally in these kinds of boats you have a foam molded jug holder.  Since I've only had this boat for a short time I haven't had time to rig my jug holder yet.

I ran in the direction the volunteers were telling me to run.  I went up the bank to the transition area where my bike was.  I intended to bike in my water shoes since they offer pretty good foot protection and they've got aggressive grip on the bottom to stay in the pedals.  My pedals were not the clip-in type and I don't have any of those clip-in shoes anyway.  I drank as much of my electrolyte drink from the water bottle I had as I could on the way to the bike.  I put on my helmet, grabbed the bike and ran it to the edge of the transition area.  You weren't allowed to ride the bike in the transition area for safety reasons.  I was pretty well spent from paddling so hard, but I figured using different muscles would make a difference.  I jumped on the bike and started up the first hill to the road.  I had no idea which direction to go so I hoped to stay close enough to bikes ahead of me to follow them.  The very first half mile or so was on a flat paved road.  I tried to get in a rythm, get a feel for the bike and use the high gears to pick up some speed.  Then there was a right turn up a gargantuan hill on a gravel road.  I groaned a little bit as I clicked the gears all the way down.  There was a photographer at the base of the hill.  I made it up about a quarter of the way and stalled.  My quads and my lungs were burning like fire and I could barely move.  "The pain!" I actually said out loud.  I tried to keep putting one foot in front of the other as I walked the bike up the endless hill.  The guy in front of me was walking his bike up too, so at least I wasn't alone.  I'm serious when I say I could barely move.  My legs felt like they were encased in carbonite.  Snot was pouring from my nose and I was wheezing.  "No way I finish 11 miles of this," I thought to myself.  I thought about the humility of finishing last, or worse, dropping out.  I finally crested the hill and got back on the bike and tried to start pedaling again.

The course had dozens of turns that I saw on the course map.  I was worried that I would get off track, but everything was very well marked with fluorescent surveyor's tape and fluorescent painted arrows on the ground.  I never missed a turn.  The course wound around the side of a large hill, up and down along gravel roads and what appeared to be narrow hiking trails in the grass.  There were other difficult hills where I stalled and had to walk the bike up with my quads burning again, but nothing as bad as that first hill.  I was being passed by other riders every couple of minutes now.  The lead that I'd built in the paddling section was evaporating.  One guy rode by, looked back and said with a concerned look, "Dude!  You need to raise your seat up!  You're going to burn out your quads!"  I knew jack about cycling, so he was probably right.  I'd borrowed the bike from Robo and it was in pretty bad shape.  I'd spent several hours tuning it up - repacking the bearings, greasing the chain, putting new brake pads on and making adjustments, but the seat post was frozen and I couldn't move it.  The guy right about one thing - I was burning out my quads.

Steadily, I made my way through the course.  There were a couple of terrifying downhills through ruts and loose gravel where I really picked up speed.  One slip and I was going over the handlebars and getting road rash, or worse.  At one point, the trail went through a section of tall grass, then trees and brush.  There was a hole cut in the brush that was the exact size and shape of a rider on a bike that you had to go through and then make a sharp right turn to avoid a tree.  "Bastards," I thought as I ducked through the hole.  The course flattened out and eventually I made it back to the transition area.  Volunteers were directing me to go down the hill to the transition area, but I didn't have any idea where to go.  I was afraid that they thought I was a relay team or something and that I was really supposed to have stayed up on the road.  I rode to where a group of racers was standing waiting on their teammates and stopped.  I asked the volunteer, "I thought we had to do two laps."  "You do," she said, "you have to walk your bike through the transition area and get back on the bike on the other side."  I would have known this if I wouldn't have missed the pre-race meeting.

I trotted my bike through and got back on.  The second lap wasn't eventful and seemed to go by faster.  I still got passed numerous times, got crushed by the first hill and cussed as I went through the hole in the brush.  But I made it.  Next, the run.

I threw my bike down next to my beach towel and took my helmet off.  I sat down to change shoes.  Man it felt good to sit.  I put my socks and running shoes on as fast as I could.  I took a long swig from my water bottle and jogged off.  I tore open a GU and downed it as I went through the transition area.

I was pretty disappointed by my performance on the bike.  I had anticipated doing poorly, since I didn't have the best equipment and I didn't train that much, but it was worse than I thought it was going to be.  Originally I thought I'd be able to make up some time during the run, but that was before I'd done two solid hours of hard exercise.  My legs were tight as I tried to run.  I was not moving very fast and I got passed in the first half mile.  Eventually I loosened up a bit and had a decent pace over most of the flat part of the course.  But then it went off road and got hilly.  The hills were killers.  The trail wound around through brush and trees and was actually very pretty.  The last mile or so was in the cooler forest and dense undergrowth by the river's edge.  I liked this part of the course the best since it was cooler running in the shade and the dirt was soft to run on.  I made my first lap and ran through a different part of the transition area directed by the race volunteers.  I saw dozens of water bottles stacked on a table in the transition area and I really needed some fluid, but I wasn't sure if they were staged there by racers and were owned or if they were community bottles.  Again, if I would have been at the pre-race meeting I would have known this.

I got back on the road and that's where my quads started cramping up.  At that point I knew I was pretty dehydrated.  I had at least 3 miles to go until the finish and I was worried that if the cramping got worse that I was going to have to drop out.  There were a few houses along the road and I started thinking about whether the race rules prohibited me from getting a drink from a water hose at one of the houses.  Most of the houses looked like no one was home.  At a couple of the houses there were people working or piddling around outside.  I was tempted to either steal a swig of water from one of the deserted houses or ask the people in the yard if I could have a drink from their's.  I looked behind me and another runner was coming up behind.  My pride and fear of violating the rules got the better of me and I decided to pass on the water and try to gut it out.  I did have to stop and walk a little in the hopes the cramps would go away.  I knew it was just a matter of time before they seized up for good, so I knew I had to be careful.  I even thought about drinking from the river or a mud puddle, but I never really seriously considered it.

I kept at it and gradually chewed up the course.  The cramps would come back and I'd have to walk for a bit.  But eventually I made it to the shaded section of the course that I liked and I knew I was going to make it.  I came through the finish line at 2:53:00.  Here are the final results.  I was 7th in my division; not sure where I came out overall.

I started hydrating just about as soon as I came across the line and the cramps went away.  Looking back, having my water jug leak in the boat was costly.  As I plan for next year, I know I've got to get the bike set up better and train on it more and on hills.  I think I can pretty easily shave 10-15 minutes off my time.  I've also got to get to the starting line in time to set my stuff up better, relax a little and attend the pre-race meeting.  It was painful, but still fun and I'm glad I did it.  I think it was good cross training for the Safari, which was really the point for me.  It is the last non-paddling event I'm going to do before the Safari too. 

Next races are the Safari Prelim and the Barrier to the Bay races.

TWS Training Log: 30 Miles on the San Marcos and the Aquaterra Tri

This past weekend was a heavy training weekend.  Robo and I set out on Saturday morning to Staples on the San Marcos river to do a 30 mile run to Zedler Mill in Luling.  I got up a little before 7 to start getting the gear and food ready and the supplement drinks mixed.  I got into Austin the night before at about 1am and I was pretty tired from the week because I stayed up late working on the boat.  Nevertheless, I felt fresh and ready.  We were meeting a group of experienced paddlers at Staples.  For those who don't know, Staples is a small cluster of houses on the RM 1977 highway bridge that crosses the river.  There is also a dam at Staples that we will have to portage.  Staples is the first checkpoint on the Safari and is about 16 miles from the start.  It takes good paddlers about 3 hours to complete the first leg.  I wasn't sure what to expect for our first time paddling with others.  Most of these people know who we are and that we are novices.  Many have reached out to us with advice and tips and offers to train with us.  I wasn't sure if there was going to be heavy observation and instruction or if they were just going to do their thing and we'd observe and try to learn from their example.  As it turned out, it wasn't much of either.  We showed up to Staples at about 9:15, 15 minutes late.  The people there were still arranging shuttles and getting their boats rigged, so it wasn't a big deal.  One of the guys, an older man named Zoltan Mraz, was a little peeved and was trying to hurry us.  We unloaded the boat and gear from the truck and Robo rode followed the shuttle to Luling while I secured all the gear and rigged the boat.

The shuttle got back and we humped the boat down to the river.  We struggled a bit with the put-in because there was a big tree in the way and the current was pushing into it at the base of the dam.  Our boat is 24' long, so it requires a lot of space to put in and maneuver.  We poked through the branches and eventually made it out into the river channel and immediately started running sweepers.  The week before we had really struggled with this section of the river, falling out numerous times.  The river is choked with overhanging or partially submerged trees and branches.  We made it through the first couple of obstacles without falling out of the boat; already better than we'd done the week before.  Most everyone else in the group put in ahead of us and took off.  There were a couple of people who were lagging behind.  For the most part, we never saw anyone during the run until we caught up with a guy who waited for us after a couple of hours.  He's another one of the older guys, 70+ years old, and he goes by the nickname Omar, which I believe stands for "Old Man And the River."  He's a former CIA operative and very interesting character.  He's also a geek for all things Safari, especially boat design and performance.  Until we met up with Omar, we did remarkably well.  We fell out of the boat 3 times total throughout the day and all of those were within the first 2-3 hours.  Plus, they were what I call Level II mistakes.  Two of the turnovers occurred because the stern of the boat swung into branches that the bow cleared.  The other was my fault and happened because I didn't pull out of a rudder turn soon enough  and we got spun out in an eddy.  Robo and I agreed that each dump was preventable and probably wouldn't happen again.

I tried to keep us on an eating and personal maintenance schedule during the run.  For the Safari, fueling, hydrating and taking care of our bodies is going to be critical.  I know we didn't take in enough calories and I didn't drink enough, even though I never started cramping.  When you are paddling you just don't want to pause or stop to drink or eat.  I also learned how to pee in the boat, which is harder than you'd think.  Last Wednesday I asked two of the guys I paddle with every Wednesday how to do it.  One of the guys is the driver for the famous Cowboys Safari Team.  He's a bit of a character and a great guy.  He explained the "pee down the paddle" technique.  I tried it with mixed success.

We came upon Omar who had beached his boat and was laying on the gravel sunning himself.  I think he wanted to paddle with us and give us some pointers.  He helped us with our paddling technique and also explained what an experienced team would do in situations that we ran across.  The best thing I took away from what he told us was that it is okay to get out of the boat at certain times like when the water gets shallow and the boat drags on the bottom, or if there is a sweeper across the river that is easier to go around than through.  This was a good lesson for me because I was so fixated on staying in the boat at all costs that I failed to see the logic in this approach.  Sometimes you save time by getting out of the boat.

With about an hour to go until we got to the trucks at Zedler, we started racing Omar.  None of us said anything, but we were racing.  We were even for the first 15 minutes or so, but then he pulled away from us.  He was in a new boat that he'd built that he called the "Mugly."  It was a skinny kevlar canoe that he'd painted red.  It wasn't a work of art, but I didn't think it warranted the name "Mugly."  My plan was to keep him within striking distance and then mount a surge over the last mile or so to pull ahead, but he kept getting further and further ahead until I knew we weren't going to catch him.  Several times I tried to pull harder and increase my stroke rate, but we never got close to catching him.  Despite the good feeling we had from running the river so much better than before, it was still pretty humbling to be whipped by a dude over 70 years old.

We pulled into Zedler after about 6-1/2 hours.  That's not a bad pace.  Only about 30 minutes slower than what good teams turn in during the Safari over the same distance.

I was pretty tired after our run.  I was doing a little better than the week before, though I'm not sure if that's a factor of fitness or the fact that I expended a lot less energy since we didn't fall out of the boat as much.  Still, with the lack of sleep and strenuous exercise, I knew I was going to sleep well that night.  I was a little anxious about it because I was doing a triathlon on Sunday and I had to be in Bastrop no later than 7am.  I know, crazy, right?

The Aquaterra Triathlon was being run for the first time this year.  The race director puts on a couple of adventure races during the year and he also puts on the second most popular marathon canoe race in Texas behind the Safari, the Colorado 100.  The Aquaterra Tri is very much like the Martindale Tri that I did back in October.  The Aquaterra consists of a 6 mile paddle down the Colorado in Bastrop, an 11 mile mountain bike ride through jeep tracks and trails near the Colorado south of Bastrop, then a 4 mile run on those same trails.  I had studied maps of the course, but the bike and run trails had so many turns and switchbacks that there was no way I was going to be able to memorize them.  I prayed that the course was well marked so I wouldn't get off track.

Robo and his new wife and I went out for dinner when we got back to Austin after our Saturday run.  A hot shower felt really, really good.  We went to Threadgill's where I had one of the best-tasting Shiner Bock draft beers I've ever had.  I ate a pretty big meal and fell asleep in the truck on the way back to Robo's.  When we got to the house I went immediately to my bed where I bet I fell asleep within 30 seconds of my head hitting the pillow, no exaggeration.

I set my alarm for 5:30.  I didn't actually get up until about 6 and I got all of my drinks mixed and gear packed.  I left the house a little before 6:30 and prayed I wouldn't have any holdups on my way to Bastrop.  I got to the boat drop a little before 7.  I was the very last person to drop off my boat ten minutes before the cutoff.  The people who do these things are psychos.  I sped to the race finish area where I'd be leaving my truck.  They were going to shuttle us back to the boat drop where the paddling section would start.  I parked and tried to get my bike and all of my gear organized as quickly as I could.  I could hear the prerace meeting starting.  I was pretty anxious about missing any of the meeting since I knew they'd be talking about how the course was marked.  I didn't roll up to the meeting until it was almost done and I missed all of the important stuff.  I was going to have to wing it and hope for the best.

I signed in and got my race packet and number.  They told me to stage my bike and other gear at a flag with my number on it like all the other racers had done.  I wished I had gotten there earlier so I could have organized this a little better.  Other people had beach towels or small tarps spread out on the ground with their running shoes laid out and their bikes and helmets sitting next to it.  I actually had a beach towel with me so I ran back to my truck for the towel and my running shoes.  I put together a makeshift triathlete's pad and staged my gear as best I could before being hustled on to the bus.

There were some pretty formidable looking characters on the bus.  A couple of guys with buzzcuts could've passed for Special Forces.  Others were obviously experienced triathletes.  I didn't really care where I finished.  I was there to train for the Safari, that was it.  My plan was to hit the paddle section hard since my only advantage would be here.  I figured I would have one of the faster boats and I was probably better trained at paddling that most of the others.  I knew the biking section would be my worst.  I had trained maybe 3 or 4 times on the bike and always on flat roads.  I figured I'd be okay for the run section regardless of the course since I run a lot.

At the start everyone was instructed to paddle their boats to a long gravel bar out in the river and stand by their boats.  This meant getting a good position on the bar was important.  I found a spot near the middle and planned how I was going to start.  Here's a photo of me getting my boat in position.  The race director counted down to one minute and I started my stopwatch.  The next sound was the starting horn.  I pushed off the gravel bar a bit so that my rudder and stern would clear the bar and I tried to jump in the seat.  There were people close on either side of me splashing.  I was unbalanced in the boat and leaned way over to the left taking in about 5 gallons of water.  I righted myself pretty quick and started paddling awkwardly with short strokes to avoid the people next to me.  Pretty soon I separated because my boat was simply faster than the plastic tubs.  There were about 40 boats or so that started and within the first 15 seconds there were only about ten ahead of or beside me.  Included in those were the boats I knew would be fasted - the K1's.  These are Olympic style sprint kayaks that are very hard to keep upright.  The guys who paddle those are usually experienced and fast.  Right then I saw one of the K1's go over.  To my surprise it was a guy who I had favored to win the whole thing.  His name is Arild Jakobsen and he's Scandinavian.  He won the Martindale Tri, so that's why I thought he'd do well.  By flipping I thought his chances of winning were over.  Gradually the field thinned out.  There were 3 K1's in the lead, then a guy in a solo unlimited boat similar to mine and another K1 pretty close behind me.

Gotta go.  To be continued...

Screw Freebirds, or, Why It's Okay to Get Angry

When burritos first came out as another option for fast food, I was thrilled.  The idea seemed perfect to me.  A burrito with the right ingredients is way healthier than most of the other options.  Plus, it tasted good.  For a while there I even daydreamed about opening my own burrito chain.  It was going to be called "Wrapido."  I thought burritos were the wave of the future.  I sampled most of the chains that came on the scene.  Freebirds, Chipotle, Mission Burrito and a few independents.  Freebirds became my favorite.  First and foremost, their ingredients were the best.  All of the veggies appeared to be prepped that day, the cuts of meat were generally better than the competition, they had several different flavors of tortillas - flour, wheat, cayenne and spinach - and sensible menu options.  Plus, I liked the fact that Freebirds was staffed with slacker college kids.  They were cool, you know, just doing their thing.  They seemed to be having fun together too.  I was already out of college so I got to relive it a little every time I went in there.  My only real beef with Freebirds, until recently, was the fact that their portion sizes were ridiculously large.  They had Regular, Monster and Super Monster.  Even the Regular was enormous.  I think food businesses that encourage gluttony suck.  But then they came out with the Half Bird, which used the same size tortilla as the Regular size, but with smaller portions of ingredients.  This made the perfect size for me and it was the only size I ever ordered.  Plus, it was the best value, which is a big deal to me too.  Quality, healthy, good-tasting fresh ingredients in a sensible portion and good value - I was very pleased.

Then the wheels started coming off.  I would order a Half Bird and every single time they would make a Regular size.  Then I would have to be "that guy" and tell the person at the register that they had screwed up my order when I asked for a Half Bird.  Their solution 100% of the time was to simply charge me for a Half Bird.  That only solved half the problem though.  I still had this enormous portion.  No big deal right?  Well, right, except that I don't like wasting food, so most of the time I would finish the whole thing and feel like a glutton. 

After the first five or six times this happened, I started to notice something else.  If you've ever been to Freebirds, you know how the line works with the burrito makers cycling from the end of the prep line to the beginning.  The process starts when the burrito maker greets you (usually with a slightly hip greeting - "What's up, man?  What can I getcha?").  Cool.  So you tell them, "I'll have a Half Bird on cayenne."  They grab the tortilla and put it in the steamer and ask you if you want rice and cheese, what kind of cheese and if you want black, refried or charro beans.  I would always tell them yes to rice and cheese.  Jack cheese.  Black beans.  And every single time they would pull my tortilla out of the steamer a few seconds later, walk to the rice and cheese and, having forgotten what I'd just told them, say "I'm sorry, did you want rice and cheese?"  And we'd go through the whole thing again.  I got very close to changing this inevitable routine by just telling them I'd wait until after they were done steaming the tortilla to tell them about the rice and cheese, what kind of cheese and what kind of beans when they asked.  In fact, I think I did that once.  Of course, then I'm a dick, right?  And in the psuedo-cool environment of Freebirds, that's just not cool.  Right?

The really shitty thing is that I GET why they don't remember what I said ten seconds prior.  The human brain is equipped to keep certain bits of trivial information in extreme short term memory and then purge them pretty quickly.  That way, you are not storing useless information in long-term memory.  This is why I, and lots of other people, are bad with names.  You meet a lot of people.  You only need to remember a few of their names.  You purge most of them and it's hard to get your brain to distinguish the memorable from the purgeable.  The burrito makers hear hundreds or thousands of orders and it's not necessary to keep them in short term memory for more than a few seconds.  In fact, if you get a burrito maker who tries to commit the orders to long term memory, that person would be storing and remembering a lot of useless information, probably at the exclusion of some other shit that they really do need to remember.  Imagine it like this:  it's important (if you are a guy in a heterosexual marriage) to remember your anniversary date.  You've only got one anniversary date, it's important, you commit it to long-term memory and you remember it every year, presumably.  Imagine if you'd been married 5 times.  Gets a little harder to remember wife #5's anniversary date, doesn't it?  Now extrapolate that to hundreds and thousands of bits of similar information and you see how it works.  So the solution, burrito makers of the world, is to ASK THE FUCKING QUESTION CLOSER IN TIME TO WHEN YOU NEED THE INFORMATION. 

I also GET why they ask when they do, even though they are wrong to do so.  They have just greeted you; in a "cool" way at that.  There would be an uncomfortable silence between you and the person you are now "cool" with if you didn't say something while you were steaming the tortilla, right?  So they use the questions about the rest of the order as a gap filler.  (Incidentally, this probably adds further to the difficulty in remembering the answers since it is essentially the equivalent of meaningless small talk.  We don't store meaningless small talk in our brains for very long.)  The reason they are wrong is that small talk in this situation is unnecessary.  I'm ordering food at a fast food restaurant.  That's it.  You might be slightly amusing to me with your witty nametag, nose piercing and/or she-devil tattoo, but I'm not looking to be friends and neither are you.  If you feel the need to speak, ask something like "Have you been here before/do you know what you want/how the menu works/etc."  Or, even though it might not make any difference, ask how long they want their tortilla steamed.  Nobody is going to know, so you just tell them that 10 seconds is the norm and by the time that little exchange is over you are ready to move down the steam table and ask about the rice and beans.

Jesus, I should have opened Wrapido.

But then, THEN, I go into Freebirds today for the first time in a while.  Months, actually.  Like always, I ask for a Half Bird on cayenne.  Sure as shit, the guy has to ask me twice about the rice and beans.  As we're going down the line, I notice this sign that says to exchange your Freebirds card for some new plastic card.  Like a lot of places, they have this promotion where you get a stamp each time you go there and when you get ten stamps you get a free burrito.  I have a Freebirds card and it had about 6 stamps on it.  I planned on exchanging my card at the register.  I make all my veggie selections and the guy wraps it up and hands me the bag with the letters "RC" written in black marker.  RC stands for Regular Chicken, as in NOT a Half Bird.  Unfuckingbelievable.  This time though, I decided I was just going to let it go.  I was worn out today and I just didn't have the strength to be "that guy."  Then I see a small sign next to the register that says, "Last Day to Redeem Your Paper Freebirds Card is March 31, 2008."  I knew it was going to go one of two ways.  Either 1) I was still going to be able to "Exchange" my paper card for the plastic card, since that's what the sign said and get credit for the stamps I already had, or 2) they were going to fuck me outright.  I get to the register and the girl (with nose piercing and she-devil tattoo) sees me holding my paper Freebirds card and verifies under her breath with another employee standing next to her that the last day to exchange the paper card was March 31.  She then turns to me and asks me what I had.  I roll the bag over to display the "RC" written on the bag.  Then she tells me, "The last day to turn in the paper cards was March 31st, so it's going to be $6.60."  It was option No. 2 - getting fucked outright.

I would have stood paying for a regular size when I ordered a half.  I would have stood for the card exchange deal.  But only one or the other, not both.  I asked her if I would be able to exchange my paper card for the plastic one.  She tells me, no, the last day was March 31st.  I showed her that the sign said the last day to "Redeem" the paper card was March 31st, so I should be able to "Exchange" my paper card for the new plastic one.  I didn't even hear how she responded, but it was basically "No."  Then she says, "We've had signs out about the cards for over a month."  I sort of tossed my paper card onto the counter as I told her, "Well, I ordered a Half Bird and the guy made a Regular, so I guess today I get the double whammy."  The girl takes a sarcastic tone and says, "All you had to do was say they got your order wrong."  And as she's typing in the correction on the register she says, "Wow."  Like, "Wow.  This totally unreasonable asshole is unbelievable."  She tears off the receipt and I sign it.  As I hand it back to her she says, "Sorry about your day" without the slightest bit of legitimate empathy.  The phrases "dirt nap" and "forehead piercing" flickered in the back of my mind, but I just took my food and left. 

I wondered as I walked to my truck whether I should have given that chick the what-for.  Should I have told her about the 100% fuckup rate, the double order question, the difference between "redeem" and "exchange," that just because they publish information about the Freebirds cards on a 5X7 inch card in their restaurant doesn't mean that the information on that card is imputed to me if I haven't seen it, that saying "Wow" like that should give me license to stick my fingers up her nostrils and pull her face into a glass door, or the fact that saying something like "Sorry about your day" is actually worse than saying "Why don't you go stick a red-hot poker up your ass?"

We're so conditioned to avoid confrontation and just "take it" that we forgo opportunities to make things right.  We have automated rationalizations like, "Oh, ordering a burrito is such a small thing it's not worth it to bitch."  Getting angry is natural, but it's being bred out of us.  How would I expect Freebirds to satisfy me as a customer unless I told them what they were doing wrong?  Take this beyond fast food and you can see why revolutions occur.  I get the feeling that the going sentiment is that getting angry, especially over something perceived as small, is not tolerated.  I think that's wrong. 

Get angry people.  Express how you feel.  Make things better.

And don't eat at Freebirds.

Safari Training Calendar: San Marcos to Luling 90

Saturday was the first time we took the Raptor out on the Safari course.  Our plan was to run the approximately 40 miles from San Marcos City Park to Luling Hwy 90 bridge.  That stretch represents the first two legs of the Safari.  This training run was going to be our first real test.  Before, all we'd done was paddle on flat water.  We had done the City Park to Staples (first Safari leg - 16 miles) several months ago in a plastic tandem boat as well.  But running the Raptor in current with all of the obstacles was going to be an entirely different deal.  Of course, starting out we had a lot of things working against us.  I had to be back in Austin by 4:30 for an appointment.  I had planned on 7 hours for the run, which turned out to be grossly optimistic.  I figured we needed to be on the river by 8:30 if we had any chance of getting back to Austin in time.  We got a late start and decided to take out at Stairtown instead, about 9 miles short of our original goal. 

This run was going to be a first in a lot of ways.  We were going to try out single-blade paddles for the first time, we were going to be trying out the powdered food for the first time and we were going to be using other pieces of Safari gear and rigging for the boat for the first time.  So in a lot of ways, this was our first "real" training run.

For a little background, the first 90 miles of the Safari, from Aquarena Springs in San Marcos to Palmetto State Park is almost universally considered to be the most difficult portion of the race.  This is because there are fast-moving currents, the channel can be very narrow and there are tons and tons of obstacles that you can run into.  The obstacles are 90% trees half submerged in the river or protruding out from the bank and hanging low over the water.  These tree obstacles are referred to as "sweepers" and "strainers."  The other 10% are rocks barely under the surface or sticking out above the water.  Most experienced Safari racers will tell you that you only have to survive the first 90 miles.  After that, the river opens up wider and there are a lot fewer obstacles.  The bay is difficult if the wind is up and the waves get bigger than a foot because they can cause you to flip over or they crash over the gunnels and swamp the boat.  But the trees and rocks in the river are the hardest thing by far.  You would have to experience it yourself to fully appreciate what I'm talking about, but let me describe a pretty typical scenario:  First of all, you are in a narrow racing boat that is relatively difficult to stay in under the best of circumstances, so you are constantly paranoid about anything disrupting your balance and sending you over.  These disruptions can be as simple and bumping a rock as you go over it to banging into an exposed rock as the current pushes you into it or it can be running headlong or sideways into a tangle of branches and getting poked in the eye, having poison ivy vines rake over your body, getting covered in spider webs and spiders or worse, asps.  (Haven't had that happen yet.)  Flipping out of the boat is bad for several reasons - it can be dangerous since you could get injured or you could drown and you can damage or destroy your boat.  Plus, every time you flip you have to expend an enormous amount of energy swimming to shore, corraling the boat, dumping it, collecting and rearranging the gear and getting back in.  Damaging the boat happens when the boat turns over and the current continues to push the boat and the people downstream.  Eventually, the boat will hit either a tree or a rock and come to a stop.  Since no one is steering the boat, it will float perpendicular to the current.  When it hits a rock or a stump the current pushes on the boat until it "wraps" around the obstruction.  That's when you are fucked.  Most of the Safari boats, including our Raptor, are made out of expensive materials like carbon fiber and kevlar.  We got a pretty good deal on ours, but we still paid a lot of money for it.  Plus, add up the costs of all the gear and training time and it is a significant investment that can all be wasted if you wrap your boat.  The good news is that even if you wrap your boat it can probably still be repaired.  But the repairs are expensive and they add a lot of weight to the boat, which is bad for portaging and overall speed.  You can see the stress level here.  So you are paddling along and the river bends hard to one side.  The current is moving around the bend fast and pushing against the bank.  Of course, along the bank is a huge downed tree with gnarly limbs going everywhere.  Your job is to enter the bend and not allow the fast-moving current to push you into the tree where you will probably flip out of the boat and be pushed bodily under the tangle of branches by the current and your boat will wrap.  You have a rudder and two paddles with which to accomplish your task.  You don't really know how to use either one with any skill.  There you go.

Even really good experienced racers bang into obstacles, but when you are inexperienced like we are it's even worse.  Banging into stuff and flipping is inevitable, so what you do when that happens becomes important.  There are two rules when you flip out of the boat:  1.  Do not allow your body to get between the boat and any downstream obstacle, and 2.  When you fall out go immediately to the upstream end of the boat and grab it so the boat will float down longways and not crossways where it will wrap.  It's the basic, "Protect Yourself First; Then Protect the Equipment" strategy.

We started out at City Park in San Marcos and made the first portage at Rio Vista.  We were clumsy and slow with the portage and Robo didn't know what to do or where to go, but we made it back into the river allright.  We took the left fork and portaged Thompson's Island.  Again, we were clumsy and slow, but we made it okay.  Sometime shortly after Thompson's Island we flipped for the first time.  The current pushed us too close to the bank where overhanging branches swept us out.  The water wasn't as cold as we thought it was going to be.  Even though we should have expected it, we were still shocked.  With some difficulty we swam the boat to a small ledge where we could stand and try to dump the boat and get back in.  We achieved this with some difficulty.  We made it a little further when we flipped out again.  This time I was able to steer Robo around a big branch, but I steered myself right into it.  (The boat is 24' long, so the bowman can pass several feet from the spot where the sternman passes.)  The branch hit me about chest level and I couldn't duck under it and we went over.  I tried to grab it and push off from it, but we were going too fast.  The water was shallower so we were able to stand right there and dump the boat and get back in.  I should mention that the routine every time we flipped was to get to a spot where we had some footing, by swimming or otherwise, dump the boat out, situate all the gear again, get back in and start paddling again.  The seconds and minutes just peel off every time this happens.  From a racing standpoint, flipping is a disaster.  From a survival and finish-the-race standpoint, it's not as big of a deal.  We learned some valuable lessons about how to rig the boat and situate gear to cut down on the time required to get going again.

We came around another tight bend and the bow of the boat made it fine, but the stern raked along the bank and a bunch of branches and vines where the rudder mechanism got tangled up.  We came to a complete stop.  The force was pretty violent and I thought for sure we were going to rip the rudder off the boat and be fucked.  I managed to tear the vines loose and we escaped.  I was sure that the rudder was at least damaged, but there was no way I could check it right then.  It was still working anyway, for the time being.  I don't remember if, or how many times, we flipped before the next portage at Cummins Dam, but we made the dam and our first really serious portage.  The dam is a tall concrete structure and there is a twelve foot drop at the area where you have to lower the boat.  I had secured ropes to the bow and stern of the boat for lowering the boat at this portage and others like it.  There are angled concrete struts where you can slide the boat down.  We nosed the boat down and I got on the rope at the stern to lower it down as slowly as possible.  Robo got down below to catch the nose and to lower the boat the rest of the way.  For our first time portaging Cummins with the Raptor I thought we did okay.  It probably wasn't the fasted portage in history, but we didn't waste a lot of time and we didn't damage the boat.  We got underway again below the dam.  We passed through some of the other notable landmarks on the river:  Broken Bone, Old Mill, Skulls Crossing, Westerfield Crossing.  We made the next big portage at Martindale dam where we had to carry the boat about 100 yds down to the put in.  Painful.  I could tell we were making progress with sharp turns and overall maneuvering as we went.  We still banged into things and we might've flipped another time or two before making Staples. 

We pulled into Staples at the 3hr 40min mark.  For reference, the top Safari paddlers will do the same section in about 2-1/2 hours.  3:40 is horrible.  My GPS showed about 30 minutes of stoppage time, which we should probably be able to halve.  I have run the same section solo in two races in 3:06 and 3:09.  A tandem should be much faster.  My goal for the Safari is straight up 3 hours.

I had never portaged Staples dam, so I had no idea how to go about it.  There are houses on either side of the dam so you have to respect the private property and stay within the river boundaries.  We pulled over and got out to assess.  I put my hand in a huge pile of fresh dog shit as I was exiting the boat.  The dam was not nearly as tall as Cummins or Martindale, but there was no real "easy" way to do it.  Just as we were about to start lowering the boat a woman came out on her porch and told us we could portage though her yard.  I thanked her profusely since going that way was much easier than going straight over the dam.  We took a quick pee and food break and reentered the river. 

I had never been below Staples, so this was going to be new to both of us.  I had heard that Staples to Luling was the most difficult of the whole Safari, so I was steeling myself for it.  Right out of the gate we had to pick a right or left channel (neither was a good option) and shoot through a narrow between sweepers.  It seemed like we couldn't go more than five minutes without coming up on some tangled mess with current rushing into it.  We picked our way through obstacle after obstacle and progress was slow.  We flipped out a couple of times and came upon more than one spot that was simply impassable so we had to portage.  We switched over to singles about ten minutes after leaving Staples.  This was the very first time in my life I had paddled with a single blade.  I worried that we would be less stable in the boat, but the motion was very natural.  It was a little weird at first, but within 30 minutes I felt like I had it down.  Single blading is about 1mph slower than double blading and you have less overall stability since you can't brace on both sides.  The advantage of singling is that you can maneuver more deftly, if you are sufficiently skilled, and the most important advantage for the Safari - it is less taxing on the body. 

As the miles wore on and we encountered more and more obstacles we learned new tricks and techniques with the single blade paddles.  I got pretty good at using the paddle as a second rudder to really turn the nose of the boat sharply.  It was pretty obvious that there was no way we were going to make Luling 90, or Stairtown, by the cutoff so we changed plans to take out at Fentress.  This was only 9 miles down from Staples and 25 miles overall. 

Sometime after we changed the takeout point and arranged with our ground crew by cell phone, we had our worst mishap of the day.  The current was running fast into a sweeper and it knocked Robo out of the boat.  I was still sitting in the back, but the boat sunk so I had to bail.  Robo had the front of the boat, which violated Rule 2.  I was busy trying to adhere to Rule 1 as the boat was pushing my legs downstream as my upper body was caught by the sweeper.  I experienced a tense moment of fear.  The rudder housing and cables raked my calf as I extracted myself from between the boat and the sweeper.  As soon as the boat passedme I looked over and to my horror I saw the boat move sideways down the river and come into contact with a stump.  The boat instantly filled with water and I saw the center of the boat start to flex.  THE RAPTOR WAS WRAPPING!!  I screamed for Robo to help me as I grabbed onto the stern and tried to pry it back.  Somehow we managed to pull it back and the boat got parallel with the current again.  It seemed like it took forever, but it was probably only a few seconds.  I walked the boat to the bank and beached it and knelt beside it.  We had just avoided our first near-wrapping episode.  I was upset with Robo for violating Rule 2 and he was upset with me for being upset with him.  I sat there for a second trying to calm down.  I looked the boat over and it looked like there was no harm done.  We got back in the boat and didn't say anything to each other for a while.  I checked the GPS and realized there was no way I was going to make my appointment.  I was stressed about that too.  I think we might have flipped once or twice more after that.  I watched the GPS and sure enough, right about mile 25 we got to Fentress.  I was really happy to see the fiance' there with the truck.  It was about 5pm.

We took the boat out without incident and loaded all the gear.  The fiance' was very understanding about the time.  (The appointment I had involved her.)  I'm a very lucky guy.  I was pretty tired and I forgot to take a final look at the GPS, but I think we were on the water for 6-1/2 hours and had stoppage time of 1hr.  We made it about 26 miles and were 15 miles short of our original goal.  From a racing standpoint, this was horrible.  From a finishing and survival standpoint, not too bad.

There are a lot of things to take away from this training run.  I think we improved noticeably maneuvering the boat.  We had to have gained some fitness.  We tried our Safari food, got experience with the portages and a completely new section of the river.  I'm anxious to do the same section again to see any time improvements.  I bet we flip half as much the next time around.  We'll see.