It's a long way around the state of Florida even if you don't have to face the traffic on 75 or 95. For our doughty sailing adventurers, the weather supplies that capricious aspect usually provided by truckers texting or minivans full of meth users deciding at the last moment to exit from the left. As I type from my cozy hotel room, the Spawnsters are dodging thunderstorms. As evidenced by the multiple little green dots on the image of their track, the barky is creeping along in light air.
And yes, the SPOT is still spotty, though it did reel off hours of coverage yesterday, so <ironic fistpump> yay SPOT. Once the team got within cell tower reach, they called to check in. They sound tired, which is not surprising, and they are basically in a race to get to Fort Clinch/St.Mary's before the monster cold front arrives, bringing big wind and 40-degree weather. But of course it looks like it's pouring down rain all day and I don't see a lot of breeze for them in the forecast until it's a LOT of wind. I'm going to suggest they hunker down in St. Augustine for a couple of days –– this is permitted in the event rules, though of course I am not allowed to help them hunker. But they are the captains of their own fates and it's their boat. My knuckles are tender, but still, I knock wood...
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It's a marathon, not a sprint. So we've been telling one another, wisely, for months, as we picked out cold-weather gear, additional electronics, packs of AA and AAA batteries, as we've talked about whether the Spawnsters will stop and camp or press on through nasty weather. I don't know how the 1,200 miles of the Ultimate Florida Challenge is calculated, though I suppose it comes down again to that old successive approximations under a curve...Even though the event is never about curves. In any case, the first stage is done. The two boats (catamarans, naturally!) that arrived ahead of Spawn in Key Largo summed up their race: it was the worst conditions for sailing that they remember. Really rough. Really grueling. I sat with Paula Paddledancer, the race organizer, as she fielded calls from worried family members of the racers, and from the racers reporting in that the wind and the waves were brutal, I thought, well, that's the first leg. I only hope the next four legs are less tough. Spawn arrived in Key West Monday afternoon. Jeff said, "I'm surprised the boat is still under us. It was –– it was just awful out there." The word "miserable" was bandied about. A nice big meal at Mrs. Mac's, a very long night's sleep, a big breakfast at Mrs. Mac's, a bit of light boat-repair (replace blown ratchet blocks and jib sheet. Replace jib hook that straightened during re-entry after flying off a wave. Toss Jahn's defective shoes. Restock food and batteries. Repack everything) and they were away on the tide by noon today. Spawn's personal tracker –– a SPOT, which brand I do not recommend –– seems to be on an extended popcorn break. The hapless customer service rep at SPOT agreed that it seemed to be acting unusually, and suggested when they got back to shore, he might be able to troubleshoot some things.
Can you HEAR my eyes rolling? Instead of pinging every half an hour, as advertised and expected, the SPOT tracker evidently will only sing out after I send a text asking Jahn to please please for the love of all things holy press "okay." Okay. This stage should actually be fun! Ongoing –– not to say endless –– coverage of the human-powered adventure race in which my favorite skipper (AKA TwoBeers) and Moresailesed (Jahn Tihansky) are endeavoring to circumnavigate Florida...
My drive to Key Largo via state-maintained roads was longish but uneventful, and after an assist from Jim Signor (Hi Jim!) to obtain more nautical scavenger-hunt items (80 feet of 1/4 inch Yale Lite line -- any color! one pair of men's 9.5 regular boating shoes -- Musto or Sperry if possible!), I arrived at what is the finish line for nearly every other WaterTribe racer, The Pelican Resort. It's a bit confusing that while Moresailesed and TwoBeers started with a gang of boats, and are speeding down the left coast of Florida among that fleet, they are in fact not racing in the Everglades Challenge. So they are not –– technically –– part of the Everglades Challenge... I'm not sure why, but dems da rules. If sailboat racing tells you nothing else, it shows you that rules are both random and the only thing standing between ourselves and screaming chaos. Despite its glitches, we stuck with SPOT as the personal locator device. In for a penny, in for a couple hundred clams...but it's hard on the watchers of this kind of event to have three-hour gaps in coverage. The SPOT tracker is supposed to "ping" every half hour. As brother Paulie texted, "SPOT is on a smoking break." Or I think it was Paulie. SOMEbody texted it. So our intrepid Spawonauts came ashore at 3:15 –– or 15:15 military style. They proclaimed it the worst conditions they've seen in their six years of making this trip. Fierce wind, pounding waves. BUT, they did get some sleep, not just camping out in their tent, but taking watches and sleeping on deck in their cool sleeping bags. They even at an actual meal while camping (a MRE chili, which evidently packed a bit of a kick. I pat myself on my provisioning back for that!). After hosing off the boat and all their gear, changing batteries and whatnot, they were ready for a meal and a good night's sleep in a non-rocking bed. We're off to Mrs. Mac's for a burger, and to Jim and Sheryl Signor's to avail ourselves of the laundry, and then crash for a bit...
Yes, I have no idea how long I will be fielding peculiar demands from my team on the high sea. Yes, I don't know when they will arrive at any particular place, or which way they intend to traverse any given set of navigational challenges. Yes, I can't say whether they will camp out tonight and eat one of those delicious meals I packed. I'm just driving the trailer (and The Miss Patsie) and a box after box of meals, haberdashery, and other diverse matérial for their restocking stops. Oh, well, that and rescuing two Care Bears in Animal Suits and a White Bear from the bench by the red curvy slide at the playground by the skipper's meeting pavilion. In what might be my most cheering moment of the week, I found the bears and got them back to their youngster -- the daughter of the friend of a former student of a friend sailing a different regatta on the other side of the Bay. Small world. Still wouldn't want to paint it. That being said, the latest telephone call from our adventuring crew at around 5 on Saturday put them at Checkpoint 1, Cape Haze. Their report: the wind was at first lively, then flattened in the afternoon. They rowed back toward shore where they caught breeze (brisk, puffy, and of course directly from the direction they meant to go), and had their hands full getting into the checkpoint. They sounded wearied but resolute; perhaps the enormity of the event hitting them –– as it did me, nearly weeping for no particular reason this morning after the start –– right in the midriff. Track them directly by clicking on the map below.
By "we," of course, I mean my favorite skipper, known by his WaterTribe handle TwoBeers, and his trusty crew Jahn "Moresailesed" Tihansky will be sailing/rowing/paddling around Florida, while I ("BookWorm" natch) shadow them by road, towing the other boat from the air-conditioned comfort of an automobile. It's astonishing and humbling to see the crowd of dreamers on the beach each year.
The fleet will swarm the water tomorrow (Saturday, March 5) at sunrise. Some will be going to first checkpoint (they are racing what's known as the Ultra Marathon), some to Key Largo (Everglades Challenge), and a select few all the way around the state (Ultimate Florida Challenge).
There are a couple of ways to follow the progress of the three fleets. There's the WaterTribe tracking site, just be sure to select "Ultimate Florida Challenge" rather than "Everglades Challenge" if you want to see what our team Spawn is doing. Likewise the RaceOwl site will track the various gangs. On RaceOwl, Spawn is known as 3662. And finally, to pinpoint our fellas only, the SPOT locator site is unwieldy and difficult to use, but it doesn't get the volume of users and only occasionally bogs down. For more than a year, so much of our idle talk and planning chez Linton seems bump up against The Ultimate Florida Challenge. Equipment, conditioning, route-mapping, alternate routes, possible solutions to potential problems. So. Much. Thinking. Now the start is a mere three sleeps away. This is, let me reiterate, a 1200-mile human-powered adventure race that pits my sweet spouse and his friend Jahn Tihansky against the weather, waves, wind, winding waterways, and whatever other w-flavored challenges to be managed as they travel a literal round the state.
The short list includes cell phones (they can use them! it's not like a regular race! they won't chat, but they could!), VHF radio, flashlights and headlamps, GPS, two personal locators with strobes (clipped to their persons at all times), a SPOT personal locator (operating all the time; it's how we track their position), a tablet for additional navigation, a biggish lithium battery and a pair of portable (deck-of-cards size) power packs, plus AA and AAA batteries, plus multiple nav-light backups. And compass, watch, and paper charts just in case.
This is essentially the same gear they have carried for years; I don't know how the windsurfing guys manage to pack even a severely slimmed-down version of these essentials. But given that this year's adventure races along for another 900 or so miles, the Spawnsters will be carrying back-up back-ups, and considerably more food. From my end of the lab, provisioning seems just about as important as any of the many aspects that can make or break an adventure race. Neither TwoBeers nor Moresailesed is what dog-trainers might call "food motivated." I have witnessed Moresailesed consume more than one full meal at a setting, but both sailors can actively forget to eat for long stretches of time. So I've made it part of my brief to supply the living bejeebers out of 'em. The gold-standard for past contestants is the MRE: Meals Ready to Eat, as designed by the US military. I got a stack of them, complete with the nifty little tab that heats water so they are indeed READY to eat. Then there's the high-protein Mac and cheese cups, a wide variety of snack bars, flavored rice, instant noodles, summer sausage, peanut butter, homemade chocolate bars. home-brewed trail-mix, and instant oatmeal. Stowing it on the boat is not part of my job, but I sure hope they can put this stuff away.
Knocking wood.
I hyperbolize. A tiny bitty bit.
But a quick recap might be in order. At sunrise on the first Saturday in March (the 5th this year), a hundred or so small craft take to the water on the start of a human-powered adventure race called the Everglades Challenge. The fleet paddles, rows, pedals, or sails (or a combination therein) south toward Key Largo.
The racers stop in at a few checkpoints –– Cape Haze, Chokoloskee, Flamingo –– before crossing Florida Bay to Key Largo. It's been a thing my favorite skipper has done for a few years. (Here's a selection of past blogs.)
Some teams take their time, stopping to camp and absorb the natural beauty of the wild Everglades. Some vessels travel in supportive, companionable packs. Some stop for hamburgers on the beach.
The Spawnsters? Not so much. When noting the beauty of their surrounds, my team is on the fly. They aim to shave minutes or hours off their best each time.
It's a grueling event: they might get a few catnaps on the way, but they arrive in Key Largo looking rode hard and put up wet. But for 2022, in celebration of a big birthday, my team will not be calling it quits on the beautiful white sand beach in Key Largo. Oh no. Mr. Linton and his crew Jahn Tihansky (aka Moresailesed) plan to keep racing...threading through Keys, skimming past Miami and Fort Lauderdale and going, knock wood, all the way past Jacksonville.
North of Jacksonville, they will head up the St. Mary's river and leave the mighty sailing vessel Spawn and climb into the increasingly quirky canoe Miss Patsie.
They will paddle up the St. Mary's, eventually climbing out of the water and portaging 40 miles on the side of a county highway to the Suwannee River. Another 300 or so miles of river brings them back to the Gulf of Mexico, where they will switch back to Spawn to finish the circumnavigation at Fort Desoto.
Miss Patsie started off as a perfectly standard 18-foot-long Wenonah canoe.
Muah ha ha. She quickly grew a set of wheels, an old-fashioned lee board, and an outboard rudder. Then, after trial revealed error, Miss Patsie got an upgraded wardrobe. At each stroke, a splash of water landed on the legs of both paddlers. This water quickly pooled and offered a damp proposition for both voyageurs and their big pile o gear.
A yachtful of thanks to Leslie and Paulie at Masthead Enterprises for the time and energy, plus gear and brainpower to make a full expedition outfit for the canoe. Their support is precious to all the Spawnsters.
Then too, what if it's windy on the St. Mary's and Suwannee? Sailors gonna sail.
Thanks to Tom Barry at Sail Technologies for the creative (and lightweight) sail.
During a trial runl, we found that the full batons and a section of old windsurfing mast (doubles as a handle when the team is rolling the barkey along the highway) gave us ~2.5 knots downwind. Add one paddler, and the sail still provides a bit of lift going close to the wind. There is certainly a bit of extra zing when a gust of wind comes along, but nothing that catlike reflexes and the sturdy leeboard can't manage... Now, to modify the expedition cover to allow for sailing... And attend to a few Spawn maintenance issues... And put together meals and first aid... And... And... And...Wheee! Triple cork with a Geenie grab! We hope to land at the beach on Friday, March 4 for inspection and Concours d'Elegance.
He talked about the storms and heat and the nice lady who nearly insisted on calling an ambulance for him. He shared survival tips, like, if you can't get to sleep, you're not tired enough.
He lent guide books and told the guys where they might best employ a fully-rested daylight reconnoiter to save trouble later. Such as the bypass for the Class III whitewater rapids of Big Shoals. They took notes and planned accordingly.
The scouting adventure started in the pre-dawn hours, when I dropped the fellas off at the Fort Clinch boat ramp. They headed upstream (pushed on a flooding tide) toward the Georgia border.
Our planned rendezvous was a little boat-access beach at the Route 17 overpass –– an isolated and frankly sketchy location about 19 nautical miles* away. What is it about waterfront parks that leads to so much graffiti, used condoms, and empty beer containers? Rhetorical question. Discretion being the better part of valor, I betook myself to a cozy coffee shop and hitched up my trusty interwebs machine. All the better to track their progress.
After crisscrossing the Florida-Georgia line an estimated 294 times, we achieved St. George, Georgia. This tiny town is the southernmost named settlement of Georgia and has the happy privilege of marking the start of the Ultimate Florida Challenge's 40 mile portage.
So each time I spell "40 mile portage," it seems like a) a typo, or b) an episode of Alone, wherein our heroes must carry their barque through the woods. Even to me.
But nope. It's c) a roadside slog on a country highway frequented (but not too frequently frequented) by logging trucks.
At the end of the forty miles (37 miles? Who the hell's counting?), one reaches the auspicious village of Fargo, Georgia, population 321 (as of 2010), home of the Stephen C. Foster State Park.
Which is where, naturally, you can get down (way down) upon the Suwannee River.
Sooookay, back to the actual Suwannee river and those –– who knew?! –– a Class III rapids. Big Shoals, by name, visible on satellite maps, and, I am relieved to report, avoidable by a 150-or-so-yard portage to skip the worst of the whitewater (and rocks).
The guys took off from Big Shoals State Park a mile or so upstream of Big Shoals and came ashore seven or so nautical miles* downriver at White Shoals, Florida after walking AROUND the alarming rocks.
They did locate several pieces of landscape in the lesser whitewater of Little Shoals, and the newly named (more anon!) canoe bears a minor scar or two.
Team Spawn gathered enough intel to keep the two sailors chattering all the way back to Jacksonville. Not the least important bit was what culinary delights await them at the distal point of the 40 mile portage...
*Why nautical miles? A nautical mile is first and foremost a minute of latitude. And even though our team is almost never going to go 1.5 land miles without a change in longitude, it's navigational tradition. Training for the Ultimate Florida Challenge adventure race has been ramping up around here. Slowly. We all know how long it takes to recover from a simple bout of tendonitis. Over the summer at the Farm, Captain TwoBeers hiked a few miles every morning (minus a couple of lay-days for fishing and sailboat racing), and each week we tried for at least one tandem kayak trip. The tandem boat is an excellent addition to our summers. Instead of tethering my kayak shamefully to Jeff's when the mileage on my hinky shoulder is up, I've got built-in rescue propulsion. AND it feels like I am contributing to his fitness regimen. Each time I set down my paddle and pick up the camera, the binocs, the Googlemaps, it's for the Spawn team effort. I'm not just dreamily contemplating the scenery, dang it, I'm coaching. But as summer passed, we stepped up. Jeff hunted down and ordered a racing canoe made of Kevlar®. The supply-chain kinks felt palpable as the small factory in Wisconsin kept us apprised of when/if they were able to start building again. Our faith in capitalism was rewarded when a nice fella drove up in his truck and unloaded the as-yet-unnamed canoe one sunny October day. Thanks to the advice of young Chip Clifton, the team will be using kayak paddles on the canoe –– a seemingly small distinction, but one that should save mileage on everyone's hinky shoulders. So while Moresailesaid and TwoBeers are working on their physical stamina and paddling skills, as well as sailing all sorts of boats in all sorts of events, I am thinking about the ground-control challenges. It's an unsupported adventure race, which means that between stages, our heroes are on their own. They can stay at hotels if they want (they won't, but they could), or eat at a fancy restaurant along the way (they might, weather dictating). And at the end of each stage, I can meet up with them, replenish their supplies, usher them into hot showers, et cetera. There will be a lot of road to cover chasing the team, which also translates into a lot of tourist-y opportunity for me. Fort Clinch, for instance, is a race check-in point, and ALSO where they switch from sailing Spawn to paddling the as-yet-unnamed canoe. What did I know about Fort Clinch? Absolutely nothing. I might guess it's a former military outpost, probably historical, possibly a good spot for making out. A few clicks later, and I know the fort was first started in around 1847, and it has a bit of a tradition of being not ready for the conflicts that come its way. It was restored by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s (Ooh, I wonder if Grampa Navy worked on it? Note to self: research employment records for the CCC). And it's right next to Amelia Island. Huh. That leg of my road-trip just planned itself. NOTE:
The Ultimate Florida Challenge begins on the first Saturday in March at sunrise at Fort Desoto beach. Depending on what time a person keeps, either the clock is ticking or the drums are calling... |
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