Amy Smith Linton
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The Long Walk

3/14/2022

2 Comments

 
In the official description of the Ultimate Florida Challenge, the 370-mile Stage 4 is described variously as a "foot-shredder," a "heart-breaker," in an event that the organizer promises "is a long and grueling event that will chew you up and spit you out."

TwoBeers and Moresailesed, as I type this from the warm comfort of home on the second Monday of the Challenge, are pulling the Miss Patsie along a country highway between two flyspeck Georgia towns, portaging between the St. Mary's and Suwannee Rivers. 

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I screengrabbed this Facebook post from Ann Tihansky, Moresailesed's sister. Thanks, Ann!
We scouted that road in December.  

​It's been a 
droughty year for Florida, which, we feared, meant that Moresailesed and TwoBeers would be dragging The Miss Patsie up or down the rivers in the ignominious fashion of Christopher Robin conveying Pooh down the stairs.

"Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it."

Although their styles and specialities vary, Moresailesed and TwoBeers both believe in the power of planning. They spitball for months on the telephone about how make things faster, smoother, more efficient, lighter, stronger.

They like to consider multiple solutions for a situation before it happens –– not, as it were, in the midst of bumping the backs of their heads.

So Moresailesed plotted half a dozen navigation options for each of the Stages, including possible additional portages.  
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A. A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh illustration by Ernest H. Shepard. Published in 1925 in the US.
For his part, TwoBeers worked on the tactics integral to those choices, like water-ballasting, a handy sea-drogue, and a righting line on Spawn, while The Miss Patsie has a modest water-proof skirt, tie-down points for cargo, and an easy-to-furl little sail. 

They got the okay for these navigational options from the sole arbiter of the event –– the Chief of the WaterTribe –– and then kept a sharp eye on the atmospheric conditions.  

What we didn't predict was that a cold front last Saturday would drop a metric butt-load of rain over the 438,000-acre Okefenokee Swamp. There's still a drought, but there's also some overflowing of the riverbeds.  

All to say, our fellas started walking early today. In addition to the 40 mile portage they expected to make between St. Georges and Fargo, Georgia, they slogged another 18 or so miles today alongside the flowing St. Mary's.

At 4 pm, my favorite skipper announced that they'd arrived at the long-anticipated convenience store in St. Georges. Hurrah them! They'd been walking since 8 am. They were tired. They were going to take a break.
​
When I inquired about the state of his feet, TwoBeers' response was uncharacteristically waspish: "They feel as if they have walked 18 miles."

Fair enough.  
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And the road so far? Not bad. Moresailesed chimed in: it was all logging trucks.
Were they wearing the slow-moving vehicle reflective sign? Yes, on their safety vests.
Had they eaten some fine convenience food? No, they had just plopped down on the curb outside the mart. 

The mighty paddlers have, at last stuttering SPOT ping (damn its inconsistent heart), something like 27 miles to push or pull The Miss Patsie to the Suwannee –– or, most likely, to that rustic little hotel next to the canoe launch where they'll rest up for a bit. 

They plan to carry on walking/resting/walking overnight as much as they can bear, because, naturally, as is par for this challenge this year, they are racing against the weather. A rainy cold-front is predicted to swing through Tuesday afternoon. ​
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Miss Patsie's tiny sail shines in a sea of salt marsh.
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Hello, Miss Patsie!

3/13/2022

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Stage 4 of the Ultimate Florida Challenge has begun for Moresailesed and TwoBeers. After two days of weather hold in St. Mary's, Georgia, they loaded their things in to the Miss Patsie and cast off.

The time was 11:40 on Sunday, March 13. Allow me to let photos tell the story...

Extra big thanks to Andy "Andyman" Hayward for coming to hang out and then offer to convey Spawn and trailer back home. 


Click on the map to pick up the SPOT track for the MissPatsters...
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What Stage Again?  Ultimate Florida Challenge Update

3/11/2022

16 Comments

 
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As Rappin Rodney predicted, it POURED all morning while the fellas put Spawn on the trailer.
It's a 1200-mile human-powered adventure race, and when Spawn finally docked in St. Mary's, Georgia at midnight on Thursday, March 10, it was time for the Tampa Bay 22 sloop to hop onto the trailer and pass the human batons over to the Winonah canoe Miss Patsie. 

Stage 4. Fort Clinch to Cedar Key: the paddling and portaging leg across the top of Florida. 

But first, while Moresailesed and TwoBeers slowly de-rigged Spawn so the creature can be trailered back across the state, they recounted a few of the many tales of the sail from Key Largo to Fort Clinch.  

​As many of us noticed, Spawn chose to take advantage of the Gulf Stream, that warm and mighty river inside the sea.

​For skiers, imagine the Gulf Stream is a magic carpet lift (For non-skiers, think: magic carpet), which conveys boats north and east up the right-hand side of Florida.
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From my mostly dry perch among the wet gear, pre-packaged food, canoe paddles and whatnot.
The river diverges from land, flowing toward Europe –– as if the magic carpet lift would eventually feed you and your rental skis out onto a double black-diamond slope. It's key to remember to exit the lift.
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So after a slumbrous night of recovering from Stage 1, the team bolted for the magic carpet ride.
​
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TwoBeers doing his homework earlier this year –– scouting routes with the king and queen of Key Largo, Cheryl and Jim Signor, who cheerfully ferried us through the many ways to get from Buttonwood Sound to the Atlantic.
TwoBeers and Moresailesed blasted through the back of Key Largo and achieved the Atlantic at Elliot Key, and were rewarded with a splendid 24 hour's worth of off-the-wind coursing. 270 miles in a single day, which is dang zippy.

They ran their dual-headsail rig: a jib and a screecher, and, as best they remember, a reef in the mainsail. 

With a lively 15 knot breeze nudging them from their starboard quarter, the miles flew by. It was so civilized (especially in comparison with the upwind slog of Stage 1) that they were able to keep a watch system, whereby one sleeps while the other sails the boat.

And somewhere off Palm Beach, while one was sleeping, the time just slipped away. Rousing the sleeper from time to time to check that the heading was correct. It was the correct heading, but at a full gallop (18.6 or so was the top speed they recall; before their Tactick electronic compass sighed and passed away), well, that's how they went "to the Bahamas," according to Moresailesed. 

Slight exaggeration. They never actually SAW Walker Cay. 

More than 40 miles offshore, the sleeper awoke, checked his navigation, and called for a turn, posthaste! I am very glad to report that after the shenanigans of 2019, the boys generally go for a "chicken jibe," which is to say they tack.

The difference between a tack and a jibe is fairly academic as far as navigation goes, each being a roughly 90° turn –– until is isn't. As anyone who has tried to carry a poster board in a windstorm knows, the wind wants to grab things and fling them about.  

To tack, a boat turns so that its nose points through the wind. To jibe, a boat turns away from the wind,  presenting the boat's stern to the breeze. When a boat is traveling downwind already, one would normally jibe to change directions.

But things can happen on a jibe, especially when it's dark and the sailors are tired, and they are a long way from shore. A sheet can catch on a cleat, a sail loads up, and next thing you know, the boat is ass-over-teakettle (that IS the technical term) and there's a lot to do.  

Prudent (cluck cluck cluck) sailors sometimes choose to do the slower maneuver of turning not 90°, but 270°. Even so, it took two tries to get Spawn tacked around and scooting back toward Florida.

Two tries. Back to Florida. Oy vey.   
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St. Mary's River at night. The darkest Turner painting yet.
TwoBeers reported that while they had seen any number of turtles offshore on the west coast of Florida, they barely saw a single fish on the east coast until they got to Fernadina Beach.  

At Fernadina, it was a veritable SeaWorld, with dozens of porpoise (including baby porpoise –– parpooses?) busily feeding off the big fishing pier. 

Coming out of Checkpoint 1 on Saturday, they bore witness to Andyman and Natedog accidentally colliding with a manatee with a tremendous splash and fuss. The sea-cow, not the men.


Later that same night, Spawn snuck up on a congress of manatee doing whatever manatee do in the dark.

Manatee are not natively warlike, so there were no vengeful repercussions. Nevertheless, adorable sea-creatures displace a literal ton of water when startled, and it's always dramatic.
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Andyman and Natedog at the EC finish in Key Largo. With wee bottles of Kracken to celebrate their escape from the clutches of what they called "the devil's waves."
In the notoriously overcrowded waters of Miami and Fort Lauderdale, our sailors were pleasantly surprised by the dearth of poorly-driven and compensatorily overpowered powerboats. Nary a near miss to be seen.

Knock wood the price of gas has a silver lining.
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Row row row your Spawn/ Gently up the stream/ Verily, Verily, you will need more steam.
After their champagne day of making 270 miles, Spawn came up against a line of weather and had no place to hide from it. One squall after another with enormous blasts of wind and nearly continual lighting ("Though it never came down. The lightning just went from cloud to cloud," my favorite skipper said, wonderingly.)

The sailors got drenched, of course, and they agreed that they got really good at reefing the main ("I don't even need a flashlight." TwoBeers said.) And then shaking the reef out again when the squall passed, leaving only a whisper of wind.

 "It was the most heinous night of my life. And there was nothing to do but <intensifying invective> bear it."  Moresailesed pulled a rueful face. "On a big boat, you can always go below, but on Spawn, you are just THERE. We couldn't even put ashore. "  

At the time, the boat was off a wide, sandy beach with no handy inlet to inland waterways. Even with the storm wind gone, the water-state stayed wild and wooly. "I'm never going to need to see New Smyrna Beach ever again." Moresailesed declared. 

TwoBeers chimed in: "Yeah, it was brutal. I mean, I built this boat, but I don't know how it stayed together. You'd go off one wave RIGHT in to another."  It would become a theme, this statement...

We all share a collective silent moment of appreciation for Spawn holding together regardless the conditions. Good barky! 
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Pruny fingers.
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Arrival! Thursday night just before midnight at St. Mary's public boat ramp.
Aboard Spawn they had front-row seating for a SpaceX rocket taking off from Cape Canaveral.  I'd texted them an alert after our dear Henry "Oh Henry!" Picco told me about  the launch.  Of course Henry, being a local, knows that NASA barricades off some portion of the waterways at launch-time. Being a good friend and shepherd, he checked to be sure Spawn would keep clear of the no-go zone.

Nothing like an international incident to slow a racing program.

Spawn did not get the text, and thought at first a blimp was on fire. "The cool thing is that there's a crackling sound after the sonic boom." TwoBeers observed, to which Moresailesed said, "Yeah, but sometimes there's debris, and we were really close to that launch."

​Did they get a photo? Nope.

And, by the by, did they mention the electrical fire? "It never was a fire. It just smoked a little, and we disconnected the battery from the water pump." 

There IS a fire extinguisher on the boat. I packed it myself.
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The team is taking another night to regroup, tank up on sleep and hot showers, and wait for the anticipated weather-bomb to blow through.  According to forecasters (now THAT's a job!), Florida temperatures are expected to dip into the 30s over the weekend.  

Good thing Moresailesed and TwoBeers have a lot of warm work ahead of them, paddling upstream. 
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Next Stage for Spawn

3/10/2022

4 Comments

 
Per the event rules, the end of a stage of the Ultimate Florida Challenge is an opportunity for me to shower the boys with hot water, soap, clean clothing, and non-homecooked meals.  

​Okay okay, that was my interpretation. More precisely, it's a chance for the team to resupply.


And the end of Stage 2 and 3 (since they did a virtual check-in at Sebastian Inlet, no showers for them!) is just north of Jacksonville, Florida at Fort Clinch State Park. Across the bay from Clinch is the town of St. Mary's, Georgia, where the team will switch into the Miss Patsie. 

While I was playing dodgem cars in an absolute downpour on 95 (what IS it with I-95?), Team Spawn called for a weather update.  I don't know if cold-front dynamics have changed, but it used to seem like cold fronts were preceded by what we call a "romping Southerly," marked by a line of thunderstorms, and followed by brisk Northerly breeze under clear skies.  

But alas, it's not always so simple, things stall, fronts back up, humidity pumps up from the Gulf.  In any case we've had the variety pack of weather for the past couple of days, in advance of a big bad arctic front threatening to sweep through North Florida early Saturday morning.  

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Despite having the boys –– back in cellphone range Wednesday afternoon, and evidently a bit bored –– tell me that maybe I needn't go all the way to St. Mary's quite yet (did that sound like defeatist talk? They said they'd give themselves til midnight Friday night to get to the Miss Patsie  And since I can't help them unless they decide they are done and want fetching –– oh, whatEVs!) I went all the way.  

Thus we find ourselves in beautiful downtown St. Mary's, Georgia.
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That the Ultimate Florida Challenge includes Georgia tickles my sense of Florida identity.

This town is in fact quite lovely: a restored municipal waterfront, a spacious boat-ramp, a daily ferry to the Cumberland Island National Seashore (with wild ponies! I might yet betake myself out there, but not quite yet), an elegant historic lodging, the Riverview Hotel, and even a small locally owned bookstore. Having an independent bookstore, to me anyhow, is the mark of civilization at its height.
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Being within cellphone range means that Moresailesed and TwoBeers have started calling in with some truly Karenesque complaints. For instance, the conditions: Evidently, if the wind is not completely dead, it's blowing 50 out of a squall. If it's not blowing 50, it's blowing 10 from precisely that direction they most wish to travel.
 
If the wind had held, they could have made it to shore for lunch, but now that the wind has died ––!  Maybe the tide would help. "It's low tide," I said happily and then, as light dawned, "I think it comes in. for. five hours." 

Yeah, of course they'd be bucking the tide.

Was there at least wind in St. Mary's?

Um.
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TwoBeers got so cold on Wednesday, he reported, that he took up oars in the middle of the night and rowed. BTW, even with the long sweeps and the sliding rowing seat, Spawn maxes out at around 5 knots –– but sustainable rowing is more like 3.5. Evidently when calculating whether that juice is worth the squeeze, one should factor in metabolic benefits as well.

Moresailesed started a story with, "If you ever want to do something not fun with your husband..."  and followed it up with, "Hey, don't get me wrong, I like the guy..."

At least they are still laughing. "We're still laughing," Jeff said, and then, "I see wind. Gotta hang up."

And back I went to a leisurely mooch around the bookstore.
​
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Fast forward to the end of the day. The phone rings –– a special ring-tone just for my favorite skipper's Batphone –– and it's an exasperated TwoBeers.  

They have been pressing "okay" each time I have asked in the past five hours (the SPOT personal locater is NOT okay. What a regrettable purchase!). The batteries have been changed, it's been powered down and on again. All expected lights are on or flashing in accordance with expectations. And yet it has not worked for five hours again. Grrr.

So the SPOT has provided a little side entertainment from the day's main work:  They've chased zephyrs. They've rowed. Zephyrs. Rowing.

And now, gol-dern-it, they are anchored at the mouth of the river. Outside of the 3200-foot-long George Crady fishing pier on Fernadina Beach.  

There's zero breeze, squadrons of hungry no-see-ums, and the tide is flowing out like -- well, like a river in flood.

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So that would be no to a hamburger on shore this evening?   

​They'll be having an MRE on board Spawn and will snooze until the tide turns.

​Let's hope there's breeze to help them get to Fort Clinch and on to St. Mary's in a civilized fashion. I've got hopes to see them before midnight.  
4 Comments

Where The Boys Are...Challenge days 5 and 6

3/10/2022

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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.
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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... 
2 Comments

The Ultimate Florida Challenge ––Stage 2 Begins

3/8/2022

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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.
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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!

2 Comments

Ultimate Florida Challenge: Day 3

3/7/2022

11 Comments

 
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... 

Sunday was a sleeping night for both sides of the Spawn coin: our heroes camped on gorgeous Cape Sable last night while I cozied into fresh hotel sheets.  

​They probably slept better, wind and mosquitoes  notwithstanding.

As Jarhead advised the team a few weeks ago: if you don't go to sleep when you put your head down, you aren't tired enough.
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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.  ​ 
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First to finish overall, winners of the EC double-handed catamaran division: Gamera and Chainsaw. Sunday evening at around 2200.
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Showered and rested the next morning, the first two boats to finish share some yarning...SemperReady and AlwaysParatus got in around midnight.
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. 
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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!).

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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.   
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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... ​​
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Off the Beach with the Challengers

3/5/2022

2 Comments

 
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And so it begins...the incessant clicking to refresh and update the tracking websites on the 2022 Ultimate Florida Challenge...

​Meanwhile, on shore, between laundry, packing up the van, rescuing Care Bears (for reals! stuffed-animal-fetching side-hustle!) and securing the canoe, I ventured out on shopping quest on behalf of the Spawnsters.
Their demands -–– peculiar and specific –– sound  via tense telephone call as if by motivated but slightly dimwitted kidnappers.
​
Please, they said: 
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  1. We're going to need more socks.
  2. And rubbing alcohol.
  3. And more batteries.
  4. And ratchet blocks.
  5. ​Also duct tape. 

What kind of felonious craft project are they creating? 
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Part of the snacks: homemade chocolate bark with pistachios, pecans, white chocolate, cherries, and milk chocolate.
Whatever it is, I don't know how long it will take.

Which is the second most asked question I get as the intrepid ground-control for Spawn.  

My usual answer is: "Well, the current record for these 1200 miles is 17 days."  


Then the questioner and I share a moment's silent begogglement before the other person pipes up with some version of, "What the bleeping heckydoodle!?"

I can only shrug.  

​
Spawn of Frankenscot 2022
Black sail, white eye of Horus, safety green shirts.
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. 
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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. 
Jeff Linton Jahn Tihansky start of UFC 2022Spawn mobbed by paparazzi pre-start.
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.

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2 Comments

On The Beach with Spawn

3/4/2022

2 Comments

 
Like the doomed characters of the Neville Shute novel, On the Beach, we find ourselves on beautiful white sand, hoping against nuclear hope.  

And like some of those doomed characters, we are carrying on.  

In our case, this means starting a salty, arduous  –– but did we mention epic? –– and rather lengthy human-powered adventure race around the state of Florida
. 
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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.
And though it should not surprise me, not every competitor looks like a marathon runner.  

It occurs to me that these events –– the Everglades Challenge particularly, is a sort of last-chance opportunity for anyone with dream.

Of course to finish, and perhaps even simply survive the effort, the dreamer must have some kind of fierce determination. But not, as it turns out, the physique of an elite, youthful athlete.

Huh. Lessons learned.
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.
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2 Comments

Is it March already?

3/2/2022

2 Comments

 
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.
During the race, the WaterTribe website has a live tracking map, which shows all the teams as they go.  

"All the teams" in the case of The Ultimate Florida Challenge being just three. 

Meanwhile, the 100 or so of the usual Everglades Challenge racers will be tracked separately.  

I mention this in an attempt to forestall the natural confusion when a spectator tries to find our heroes -–– and they seem alarmingly invisible.​

To access that map, click on the picture of the map that appears here ==> 
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​(Or click on that word "here.")

(See what I did there?)

Okay, okay, I'll stop linking to the map.

...but you might want to bookmark that link.

<exit giggling>
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