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February, 2005
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Everglades Challenge 2004
By Dawn Stewart

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everglades Challenge 2004

So much .  .  .  Adventure 

By Dawn Stewart (aka SandyBottom)

About six years ago, transfixed in front of the TV when the Eco-Challenge Adventure Races were televised, I was wishing I was doing that. I have always felt well suited to distance and endurance challenges, and had previously competed in long distance running and triathlons. Then, about 3 years ago, I happened upon the WaterTribe website and read about the Everglades Challenge. This, I thought, would be perfect -a custom made Eco Challenge based on paddling. A female, and over 50, I was already a skilled and active paddler, and had competed in a few long local kayak races (I thought 40 miles was long then), and loved kayak/camping expeditions. Last November, a WaterTriber nicknamed BlackSun offered his used Everglades Challenge marine charts for sale.  The purchase was my commitment to do the 2004 Challenge.

The Everglades WaterTribe Challenge is an unsupported, expedition style adventure race for kayaks, canoes, and small boats. The Challenge follows the SW Florida coastline from Fort Desoto in Tampa Bay to Key Largo, a distance of roughly 300 miles, with a time limit of 8 days. The WaterTribe website www.WaterTribe.com contains more information on the Challenge, including a discussion forum, magazine section containing numerous articles on preparing for a Challenge, as well as articles from those who have completed previous challenges.

I began preparing by reading everything I could find about distance paddle racing, and by becoming a participant of the forum. I was given lots of advice, particularly from BlackSun and SlackJack, on the forum and by e-mail. WaterTribe uses nicknames called tribal names; my family helped name me SandyBottom. I trained seriously; despite the cold winter we had in N.C., following Chief's articles 'Get Fit for a Challenge' and 'Finish a Challenge'. I paddled a minimum of 3 times a week, increasing my mileage until I was paddling ~ 70 mi/wk, including at least one long night paddle. I was already an active swimmer, biker, and run/walker, so had a good fitness base.

Luck was on my side when I found another women, tribal name TurtleWoman (TW), living near the coast of N.C. who had entered the EC last year, and was planning on attempting it again. It turned out that we would be the only 2 women registered in solo kayaks and the 2nd and 3rd solo women ever to finish a challenge. As is often recommended, we decided to form an ad hoc team for mutual support and company during the long hours of paddling. In WaterTribe, an ad hoc team requires each member to be totally self sufficient, carry all required gear, and be able to complete the event solo. Ad hoc teams are common, and are sometimes formed even just for a day or night. Unfortunately, prior to the EC, TW and I only managed to get together on one weekend to meet and paddle together. As we would experience more than once during the challenge, we spent that weekend paddling in the Neuse River at Cedar Island, in small craft advisories with winds 15-25 mph and fairly large seas. We were quite convinced we were going to be up to the task.

Our Challenge actually began 2 days prior to the event. While driving down to Florida, we realized that we would not make the campground at Ft. Desoto before closing, so we had to "stealth" camp in an uninhabited neighborhood the first night. At Ft. Desoto we ended up camping in the front seat of TW's car the night before the race, because no campsites were available. Needless to say, we were a bit sleep deprived at the starting line on Sunday morning. This is not something I would recommend, but it probably had me starting out in enough of a stupor as to tame any jitters or apprehensions.

Friday


Ready for Launching

Friday was a very exciting day at Ft. Desoto. I was finally meeting Chief (the founder and organizer of WaterTribe), and so many of the Challengers whom I had come to know and look up to on the Discussion Forum. Friday was also the day I first understood what a 'shipping channel' really was. Previously, I had always chosen to paddle in more remote areas (including a month long expedition in Newfoundland last year) purposefully to stay far away from boats. But here, there were not just boats, but ships - huge ships. Even the yachts I would continually see on the Intra-coastal Waterway throughout portions of the Challenge were larger than any boats I was used to paddling around.

Friday was also check-in day, equipment inspection (there are very strict rules regarding required equipment, including VHF radios and EPIRBS), and the Captain's meeting. There were 26 boats (kayaks, canoes, sailboats) signed up for the EC: 12 of them were single kayaks. Another 21 boats were planning to do the Ultra Marathon (UM), which was a 2 day, 67 mile event; way too short for my delusions of grandeur. At the meeting, Chief went over all the rules, provided information about the checkpoints and deadlines, emergency phone numbers, etc., then he proceeded to warn us about the animal hazards; bears, sharks, alligators, crocodiles, rattlesnakes, cottonmouths, coral snakes, sting rays, barracuda, spiders, bees, hornets, wasps, fire ants, ticks, mosquitoes, poison ivy and the poison Manchineel tree. Oh boy!

Saturday

Saturday morning started early, and in the dark. Everyone seemed busy with last minute boat packing, shuttling cars, and picture taking. It was a beautiful site with so many boats lined up for the start, as both the EC and the UM challenges begin at the same time. At 7AM the race began. All boats are required to start above the high water mark, and no help was allowed to drag your boat down to the water. TW and I, and a few others, still had another few minutes of packing before we were ready to take off. After all, what's a few minutes when you're about to embark on a 300-mile trip? Some chose to wait for the melee to clear out and then enjoy a more leisurely start. Others took the idea of a race to heart, and sprinted with their boats to the water. There was a stiff headwind from the SE (in our faces), and a sandbar a few yards out from the start with small waves coming over. I remember thinking how embarrassing it would be for someone to tip over within the first few feet of the race and wondering why is it so windy so early in the day. With such a large fetch, the seas across Tampa Bay were all white capped, making it difficult work at the start. It turned out; this was actually some of the easy stuff, and just the beginning of the challenging conditions TW and I would face throughout the rest of the week of the Challenge.

It was slow going across Tampa Bay in the headwinds. I could see a few boats ahead of us, and a few behind, but wondered where most of the other boats went. Were they really going to 'race' for 300 miles? The crossing, luckily, was without any ships in the channel, but with its large fetch and wind generated swells (2-3') was rough enough to occasionally force us to pause, raft up, and pump out TW's open cockpit. It was from this slow beginning that TW and I would start to discover differences and similarities in our paddling styles and personalities. I have been paddling for about 10 years, including 6 years teaching/guiding for Rock Rest Adventures, and spending any free time kayak surfing or expeditioning. I prefer the traditional Greenland paddle, but consider myself a modern paddler, certainly enjoying all the latest high tech gear. TW thought of me as a techie or gear head. Quite proud not to be considered a techie, her stated preference was for navigation by compass and chart rather than GPS and chart. TW had previously spent 10 years as an Outward Bound Guide all around the country, also had expedition experience, and was in the process of starting up her own kayak tour-guiding company.

I had trained religiously for the past few months regardless of the cold, paddling long distances locally (Chapel Hill, N.C.) on a nearby large lake, with occasional weekends at my favorite playground at Bogue Inlet in Swansboro. Winter coastal conditions kept TW out of the water through much of the winter, forcing her to spend training time in the gym on a rower. TW was paddling a beautiful brand new Kevlar kayak, a Seda Glider that had just been delivered to her the day before we left --a boat she had not paddled previously. I had my beloved NDK Explorer, which I felt very proficient in, in both flat water and big seas and surf. I prefer kayaks with a lower deck and good thigh contact in order to edge and maneuver without need for a rudder. TW preferred the comfort of a boat with a higher deck and larger cockpit. Whereas edge turns in my boat require the use of a tight fitting spray skirt, TW prefers to paddle with a rudder and without a spray skirt, thus avoiding heat and constriction whenever possible.

Despite our differences, there were similarities as well, which is what enabled our ad hoc team collaboration to work. We are both incredibly goal driven, strong willed, and physically strong. We were determined to finish this race no matter what, helped by the fact that both of us have a very high tolerance for discomfort. Our mental attitude and desire, more than anything else, were the key ingredients in the recipe for our success. And there were other areas where we complimented each other. TW had dropped out of the race last year after 180 miles; serious chaffing resulted in some open wounds that became septic. For most of that distance, she had paddled alone, and said she had found it quite stressful. Paddling solo in the dark in unfamiliar waters was my biggest concern as well. Together we provided companionship and a safety net that made for a much more relaxing and enjoyable trip. To our ad hoc team, TW brought previous WaterTribe experience, familiarity with the Everglades area (a definite advantage I think the Florida paddlers have over other competitors), having run many guided trips out of there years earlier. I brought the techie waterproof charts and GPS system preprogrammed from Blue Chart software. In the end, despite some differences and the occasional frustrations team members have, I believe our teaming up helped to assure our eventual success.

After crossing Tampa bay we stopped to stretch and bail at a foot of the bridge at the head of Anna Maria Sound. Etchemin and Porky in a Kruger SeaWind were doing the same, and RubberDucky pulled up in his Folbot. As it turned out, we would count ourselves lucky to see RubberDucky again a few times this day and night. I recall Etchemin and Porky commented on how tired they were already, and on the amount of paddling they had already had to do. I found this quite interesting, as we'd only paddled about 10 of the 300 miles. Registered as a Class 3 boat, and with these headwinds, this was not the sailing weather they wanted; this would change in favor of the sail-equipped boats later in the week.

I was beginning to realize that our little group was definitely trailing up the rear. TW had preached a mantra all the way up on the drive, 'pace is the key, it's all about pace.' I have to admit that I was already getting a bit worried that we might need to be picking up the pace a little. We were paddling a speed much lower than I had expected and trained for. TW would continue to repeat her mantra and I just figured if I had to paddle 16 hours a day as Chief had said to expect, this was certainly going to be a pace that I could handle, plus more (a good thing).

By 5pm we had only paddled about 25 miles. I was again silently worrying about the pace and the length of our rest stops. (Oh, did I mention I'm a worrier and TW has no worries?) I didn't think we could ever make the finish at this rate, and maybe not even make the first checkpoint. I was also worrying a bit about TW, as she was not her usual talkative self. Something was clearly not right; she was not feeling well. Neither of us had done a good job that day of eating and keeping up our energy, more critical for TW who has low blood sugar and was definitely out of her zone. This was an easy fix and a mistake we would not make again. During the rest of the week, we would refuel on a regular schedule, and, in fact did such a good job from then on as to not have lost any weight throughout the Challenge.


SandyBottom and TurtleWoman

To prepare for nighttime paddling, we stopped at the bridge at the end of Sarasota Bay, put warmer clothes on, and found our flashlights and boat lights. While there, we met two older women who were walking on the bridge and came down to talk to us. They were so excited to hear about our adventure, "would have loved to do something like this when they were younger" and promised to read about us on the WaterTribe web site. Feeling a great boost in morale and hoping to make up for lost time, we paddled onward. It was at this point that I realized, though also refusing to believe, there was a slight hint of fog starting to come in from the ocean.

Within the hour, we were in a thick fog with little to no visibility. I was beginning to think I was jinxed and back in Newfoundland. I had spent a month paddling the SW coast of Newfoundland with 2 friends the past July, and had spent 80% of the trip paddling in a blind fog. Entering Roberts Bay, we again ran into RubberDucky not far from the bridge. He was looking for a place to pull over in the fog for a brief stop. We chose not to wait for him; wrongly assuming that once we got paddling we would be so much faster than he in his 15' Folbot. (He showed us up the next day).

The next 15 foggy miles took us 7 hours. It was impossible to see the channel markers, and even those with lights often only added confusion. We were completely reliant on navigating with my new GPS with mapping. I had downloaded way points and charts of the area from my PC, but I still had not taken the time to properly read the instruction manual, thinking maybe I would do so on the drive down to Tampa Bay (yeah right). TW was a chart and compass paddler, completely unfamiliar with GPS navigation. We were actually doing fairly well (I think), until at one point in Little Sarasota Bay, I thought I saw a light marker and started following it, only to discover too late, when we paddled right up an Oyster Bed, that the fog must have lifted for a few minutes and I had been following a porch light. Often the boat channels were very narrow, and once off track, the water became very shallow, even too shallow for a kayak at times. TW's new boat was not very happy with the oyster beds, no need to comment on how TW felt. We were now off the channel, not sure by how much (by the end of our week, I did manage to learn these things), and we seemed to be surrounded by Oyster beds every which way we turned. Finally, out in the fog we saw a light and a voice asking, "Are you WaterTribe?" Again, our old friend RubberDucky (RD); his GPS batteries had just given up, but he was still in the channel. RD, TW, and I paddled the remaining few hours that night, staying in the channel, aiming for Snake Island, our now newly planned overnight destination.

Our first day had taken 19 hours when we reached Snake Island at about 2AM. There were a few other kayaks on the beach, and a telltale WaterTribe style hammock tent. When I called home, my husband Paul, also known as 'DanceswithSandyBottom,' told me that indeed a few other Challengers had come in an hour or so earlier and were also camping on the island. These turned out to be Chief, Manitou Cruiser, and Wayfarer. I later discovered that Bear was also camped out on the other side and didn't see any of us. I was starting to feel better knowing we were among other challengers, though mostly sailors. They would make up this time more quickly than us in the end.

Sunday

All headed out before our 7:45AM departure. Chief and ManitouCruiser went out the inlet into the Gulf to catch a breeze. RubberDucky started down the Venice Channel around the airport, which was also our planned route. For the rest of the day towards Grande Tours, I continued to expect we would catch up and overtake RubberDucky, but we never did. He later told me with a big grin that he had paddled all day without stopping, as having registered for the Ultra Marathon; he did not want to be overtaken by us so-called faster challengers.

TW and I continued paddling through Venice Channel and up Lemon Bay. We stopped for lunch on a small beach in the Bay in front of one of the large waterfront houses. Large wakes from boats in the channel created havoc on our landing spot, and when TW picked up her boat to move it further onto the shore, it accidentally slipped and the full weight of the bow landed on the top of her foot. There was immediate swelling and bruising, and we feared something was broken. Deciding she didn't need her foot to paddle, we planned not to let race officials know for fear they would take her out of the race. As it turned out, her foot was not broken, and although badly bruised and painful, felt better each day.

Continuing, we ran into Bear lounging and sailing in his Easy Rider about 30 minutes from Checkpoint 1 at Grande Tours. We arrived together about 5PM (25 miles in 9 hrs). This pace of about 2.8mph would turn out to be typical for us with the rest/eating stops we made along the way. I was again worrying about our pace. If TurtleWoman was aptly named, I was just hoped we would enjoy the same ending as the classic fable of the tortoise and the hare. TW was a firm believer in finding a comfortable pace, and then… keep moving forward. Weeks later when reviewing the GPS data, it became clear that our paddling speed was actually quite reasonable, but it was our rest breaks that had a huge impact on our overall average pace.


SandyBottom Arriviing CP1

We rested and showered at Checkpoint 1. The festivities of the Ultra Marathon Finish were pretty much over and there were only a few competitors hanging around. Most of the challengers had left for the second checkpoint during the day. Chief and ManitouCruiser were still there eating and getting ready to sail out for their non-stop exciting adventure to Chokoloskee (that is their story to tell). Pelican was the last remaining Challenger yet to come in. Later, he told me he had miscalculated and taken the outside route at Tampa Bay where the headwinds made forward movement in his sit-on-top peddle/paddle/sail kayak almost impossible.

Weather reports were now predicting a cold front moving in around midnight, bringing a drop in temperature, high winds, and small craft advisories. We ate, showered, and left by sundown, planning to paddle across Charlotte Harbor at least to Cayo Costa before the front moved in. This was a beautiful evening paddle. The stars were out and there was a slow wind at our backs. There was also the anxious feeling about the front, and some apprehension after hearing a few horror stories about Boca Grande Inlet in bad weather. Eventually, the winds slowly picked up behind us such that Chief and MC sailed past us becoming a speck in the moonlit horizon. We continued to paddle up the inside coast of Cayo Costa, keeping an eye out for any cloud formations that would indicate the front. The only real excitement that night occurred about 1:30AM when I somehow awakened a sleeping manatee that literally jumped out of the water not a foot from the stern of my boat. TW saw the manatee as it came out of the water. I only heard the explosion and felt the large resulting wave. Who would have thought those big animals could jump? This scared all the energy I had left right out of me and we decided it was time to find a campsite. The full brunt of the front hadn't arrived yet, and we had just made better distance than hoped for (another 15 miles). TW remembered a nice sandy point just ahead. We stopped at 2:30AM on the southern tip of Cayo Costa Island, about 8 miles N of Sanibel Island; an 18-hour day.

Monday

We made a late start at about 10AM. The front had arrived during the early morning and we woke to strong NNE winds. These winds would help push us down Pine Island Sound, past Pine Island, Sanibel Island, and Ft. Myers. We spent the day pretty much hugging the channel, directly down the middle of the Bay, hoping to lesson the miles. The Bay had been total white caps throughout, and was quite an exciting ride. We arrived at Sanibel Bridge at 5PM and assessed the open waters of the Gulf beyond it. NOAA was reporting small craft advisories though the night, winds 20-25 mph, surf 4-6ft and seas 8-12 ft. From the bridge, things didn't look too bad, certainly not worse than we had endured, and we figured conditions would remain that way for a while. We couldn't camp where we were, so decided to continue on, staying close to shore in the event we needed to get off the water, albeit with a surf landing. Leaving the bridge was actually quite a challenge. It required a surf launch into 2 ft breakers with a sharp turn into beam seas, and then another sharp turn into following seas and under the bridge where we had a mess of reflecting waves coming at us from all angles. We were crossing under the lower road bridge (rather than the draw bridge), and with many so many large cement pilings only about 8ft apart, the water was as confused as anything I'd been in before.

Once in the Gulf, we quickly noted that the sea swells were a bit bigger, but there was no real surf on shore. We still had a couple hours of daylight left and in daylight, the ride was actually fun, with swells only in the 4-6 ft range, certainly not rougher than either of us had paddled in many times before. However, this became very different in the dark. As it started to get darker, we opted to stay closer to shore. Winds were slowly picking up, and the swells were getting much larger. We were about to cross Big Carlos Pass just after sunset. Just at the very last bit of twilight, we could see what appeared to be heavy surf a few hundred yards ahead of us. Sure enough, there were shoalings and big surf all along this pass, the tide was ripping. We yelled to each other to head out to deeper water fast and still ended up hitting the end of the shoals, bracing through breaking waves well over our heads, 4-6 ft high, and in total darkness (the moon would not rise for hours). Not the largest surf I had been in, but in the dark, certainly the most frightening. Luckily, since we had already started to turn outward, nothing hit us directly in a broached position, with good bracing and forward movement, we managed to work through the surf to deeper water. More luckily, TW was wearing her spray skirt, knowing surf landing to camp would be likely.

We eventually paddled out a little more than a mile and a half offshore, but we were very wet and cold and knew our night was over. We would have to find a landing. Once on the other side of the pass, the shoreline appeared to be completely undeveloped. We couldn't see it very well, as there were no lights at all. We figured this was good and could mean a possible campsite. Up until this time, the beach was full of condos and hotels with lots of beach partying going on with the start of college spring break. Very apprehensively, in the dark, we slowly turned to shore, hoping for the best. Not knowing exactly how big the surf would be, but assuming a surf landing would be required, we discussed various plans, including swimming in with the boats if needed, as we knew the tide was incoming. I didn't ask TW if she thought she could roll her new boat, but figured her large cockpit and nylon spray-skirt would make that difficult anyway, so I just hoped for the best. Locally, I have a small reputation for rolling, and can do about 13 different Greenland style rolls, and can successfully re-enter and roll my boat in surf. No one is 100% in surf conditions, and in the dark who knows. We paddled close together very slowly, both wondering on the sudden quietness. Amazingly, we looked over at each other and realized we had already landed in sand, with barely a ripple. Ahead of us was a small tidal pool. We had landed on the back side of a small sandbar, at slack tide. In front of us was a sign for 'Lovers Key State Park', and a beautiful site for day camping. Though no overnight camping is allowed, we knew we would be gone before the park opened in the morning. I later heard that Pelican had also camped here the same night. SharkStu was also reported to be somewhere in the area, and another group got off the water around Gordon's Pass, our original destination for the night.

It took 2 hours to set up camp, dry off, and warm up (which never really happened). It was reported to be 42 degrees Fahrenheit. I finally phoned home about 10PM, still quite excited over what had passed. Evidently, Paul had been quite worried. He knew the weather reports, and had been reading the worried posts of others on the WaterTribe Discussion Forum that indicated that many other challengers who were still in our area had gotten off the water before dark because of the bad conditions. All he had known was that we were still out there. I wished I had called him earlier when we landed. In the end, this was one of our short days, only 10 hours, and we were still about 54 miles from Checkpoint 2 at Chokoloskee.

Tuesday

We pushed off about 8AM, with conditions quite a bit milder, still a NNE wind at our back, but one that would help us. The sun was out and it was much warmer. Weather reports were calling for another front to move in later that day, but we thought we might be off the Gulf and into a channel of the intra-coastal waterway (ICW) before that one came in. The morning and early afternoon were very pleasant, with ocean conditions more like I am used to; interestingly though, not the flat conditions I had heard I could expect in the Gulf. There were lots of dolphins, and a beautiful small loggerhead turtle who came to pay each of us a visit, coming up out of the water only a foot away from TW's boat, then mine. She looked us both in the eye, and opened her mouth as if to smile. We decided to take this as a good omen for the rest of our journey, as the turtle has special significance to TW, with her Cherokee heritage.

Throughout the day, the scenery changed constantly, from high-density condo/hotels to beachfront acreage with unbelievably massive beach houses. About an hour before arriving at Gordon's Pass, we felt the next front move in. The temperatures dropped again very quickly and the winds again shifted. We were glad to be going inside, and had lucked out with the tide through this inlet.

There was still another 13-mile intra-coastal route before reaching Marco Island and Big Marco Pass, where we thought we could cut off some distance by not going around Marco. In this ICW, we saw a couple of manatees, one whose head was completely out of the water. This route would take us inside to Big Marco Pass; we would paddle across the Pass and head inward towards 10,000 Islands. We had hoped we could make Indian Key, assess the tides and possibly camp there and come into CP2 early the next morning (the cutoff deadline was nearing at 10AM the next day). This was not to be. Once we reached Big Marco Pass, the winds were really up again, 25-30 mph, and the temperatures had dropped below 50 (lower with the wind-chill). We were both feeling very cold again. The tide was incoming and the front was causing very rough conditions at the inlet. We decided to pull off on a sandbar just inside of the pass, wait for the tide to slacken, warm up and dress for the night, then cross the pass. Two hours later, out of the wind and in our sleeping bags, we were both still shivering and fighting off near hypothermic effects of the night before. It was clear we would need to put up the tent and get warm, and likely not be able to continue paddling this night. It was only 6:30 PM; we had only managed 9 hours. We weren't going to make the cutoff. I called Paul and explained the situation, asking him to send in our location, and request a weather hold for us. This was within the WT rules, as small craft advisories had been issued for both the night before and this night, and we had been forced off water both nights due to these conditions.

Wednesday

Up at 3AM, with windy but manageable conditions, we were on the water by 3:45. We needed to paddle our butts off, still not knowing if we had been granted the weather hold. Not that it mattered; we had already decided that regardless, the destination was Key Largo. We knew we could make Key Largo by Sunday noon, in or out of the Challenge. And there was little reason not to be given the weather hold.

The morning paddle was hard, winds were very gusty, and seas were now quartering. We stopped at a large key for a short break, assessed the tides, which were in our favor, called race management and left a message reporting our estimated time of arrival at CP2, and continued our paddle. It was now 10AM which was the checkpoint cutoff. We paddled straight into the Ranger Station at 2PM to get our camp permit in the Everglades (not willing to take a chance of being disqualified later), made CP2 at Chokoloskee at 3PM.

What a wonderful site, and a total morale boost to see SaltyFrog (the race manager) there waving his hands and cheering us on. The weather hold was not a problem and easily justified, but we would have to make the time up. There was another 65 miles to paddle by Friday 10AM. We called home, filled up our water bottles, had some ice cream at the small store across the street, and left for Pavilion Key by 5PM. Our plan was to paddle the 10 miles there, camp the night, then paddle the remaining 60 miles non-stop the next day and night to Flamingo. We landed on Pavilion Key in the dark at low tide, ending up struggling with dragging boats for at least an hour and totally exhausting ourselves. The good news was we would leave with a higher tide in the morning, helping to get the boats off the key. Also good was that I was able to fix my skeg pull which I had broken launching from Chokoloskee. Adept at paddling without skeg or rudder, I was worried that it would be very uncomfortable without my skeg given the winds we had been experiencing and the distances left to travel in a loaded boat.

Thursday

We left Pavilion Key at 8am. I am a very early morning person, and would have preferred leaving earlier most mornings, and then ending earlier most evenings. However, I seemed to manage the late nights easily with a partner, and it seemed to me, easier than TW might have the earlier mornings, so this probably turned out to be a good team compromise. Again a very windy day, but NW winds were at our backs and rough seas pushed us along quite well for the 30 miles down the coast towards Shark River. This is a beautiful area in the Everglades Park. The sun was out and warm, and the beaches on these older keys off the gulf are beautiful. They differ from the younger Mangrove Keys, in having much more mature and diverse vegetation.

It was off Pavilion Key that we spotted quite a few sharks, some seemingly very large. At one point about 50 yards off, there were a number sharks that we could only imagine were in a feeding frenzy, given the maelstrom that was going on.

During the day we stopped for only one 30-minute break on a key, and then stopped for dinner about 5PM right outside the entrance to Shark River. There we rested and waited about 2 hours for the tide to slack. Leaving in total darkness, following the GPS, we paddled into the river. After about 3 hours of paddling, we hadn't made as much distance as we should have. TW was the one to finally realize that we had stopped moving forward. We likely had just spent over an hour in a small channel just fighting the tide and hadn't even realized it. We had misjudged the tidal offset.

Interestingly, she had just earlier told me a story about one of her Outward Bound trips where they missed the tide and had to pull up alongside a mangrove island, hanging onto the bank waiting for the tide to change. This was all we could do. Ferrying over to a mangrove, we grabbed its roots and hung on for the next 2 hours in the dark. The whole time, there were a couple of dolphins less then a few yards away entertaining us, and making an absolute racquet.

We resumed paddling at midnight, still with about 20 miles to go. Trying to follow the GPS carefully, we made our way to Oyster Bay and then into White Water Bay, which were huge ––very roughly 10 miles long and 5 miles wide. Even in the dark I could feel its size. Chief had told us that once in the Bay it would be easy to navigate all the way to Tarpon Creek following the Wilderness Waterway markers. We followed a couple, and then lost them totally, never to find them again. It was overcast, very dark, and quite breezy. We paddled down the middle of the Bay looking for markers. There were no small islands to stop and rest on, nor would there be a place to camp. By 3AM, staying awake was difficult and in fact, I'm not sure how awake we actually were. Every once in a while TW would take a few seconds of catnap, her head would drop back, and then she would wake up and jerk her head up. At one point, she looked at me in all seriousness and declared "don't worry, I can paddle and sleep at the same time." I'm pretty sure we were moving forward, but not very fast. Looking later at the GPS data, there were times that night where we were barely paddling 1 mph, weaving all over the place, never managing to stay on a course. But, in true WaterTribe tradition, we continued to move forward.

Friday

About 5AM, the winds picked up and it became very cloudy, looking like it was going to storm. For some reason, neither of our VHF radios were able to pick up a weather report, and we hadn't seen a channel marker in hours. The GPS clearly showed we were in the Bay and seemingly on our way to CP3, but not on the course we should have been. We could see the Flamingo tower lights in the distance and figured we were probably 6-8 miles away, but there were many mangrove islands in our way, which shouldn't have been. We finally stopped on one, found a solid footing, and decided to wait till sunrise to access if a storm was indeed coming in, and hopefully see where we were. This was a very small island, maybe 5 yards in diameter, with only one section that appeared solid, but with no open areas. We wrapped our Thermarests around us, dove into the tree roots, managed to get our butts on the ground but with legs and arms sticking up, with a tent fly rigged as a temporary tarp if it rained. Cold again, we were still constantly fighting the after-effects of Monday night's adventure. I remarked that I felt like we were in Wilderness Survival Training School. I also remember closing my eyes and absurdly thinking how very comfortable I was. We were exhausted. Except for the 30-minute break on the Gulf and the two-hour break near Shark River, we had been in our boats for 21 hours. We had 5 hours to make the Checkpoint, something close to 8 miles, and we were feeling a little disoriented, and needing rest.

We slept solidly for 90 minutes. Cloudy and breezy, there was no impending storm, and we were back on the water by 7AM. We took some time studying the charts and the surroundings, trying to make sense of the GPS routing. A few false starts forced us to paddle around a couple of mangrove islands 'which just shouldn't have been there,' and we finally found our route (still no markers) and made our way. As we were entering Tarpon Creek, a boat with 2 Rangers stopped and asked if we were part of the WaterTribe and if we knew if there were still others behind us. We told them our names and asked them to let the others know we were on our way, expecting to make cutoff.

We landed at the boat dock at 9:45AM, 15 minutes before the 10AM deadline, and so thrilled to have made it! I didn't even think to look out for the large crocodile that chief had warned us to look out for, as he has made his home on the dock for a few years. SaltyFrog was there and filled us in on how everyone else was doing. There were also 2 friends of TW, a wonderful retired couple, who spend their time traveling and camping throughout the US and Canada. TW first met them when expeditioning in Maine a few years ago, and coincidentally, they happened to be in Florida last year during the WaterTribe. WaterRose, the woman who finished the race last year, mentioned their help in her trip article. They are now official WaterTribe Groupies, and we expect they will be there to greet and help challengers every year.

Exhausted and needing rest, TW and I decided we would stay the day and night at Flamingo, and leave Saturday early with the high tide. We still planned to make the dinner and awards banquet they had scheduled for Saturday evening, accommodating challengers who needed to get on the road home Sunday. Officially, the Challenge is not over until Sunday at noon. Many had warned me not to attempt the crossing of Florida Bay at night if not familiar with the area, as the channels are hard to find and the bay is very shallow. We learned that a group of WaterTribers had attempted the crossing the night before, only to return to Flamingo after 4 hours of not being able to find the channels. They had left again that morning. Pelican was at the dock taking his time visiting but was planning to do a night crossing to avoid the winds predicted for the next day. I was quite impressed by his enthusiasm for the night crossing, and loved his comment that "this year, his hallucinations so far had been the best ever." AlaskanSeaHorse (ASH), who had come in the day before, was tying to rest and recover from some serious blisters on his hands and butt (having borrowed a boat and paddle that was not a good fit for him). He was considering not finishing the Challenge, but hadn't totally decided. Everyone else who would finish, had either already arrived at Key Largo or had already started across Florida Bay.

Given our pace thus far, I wasn't too optimistic that we could leave Flamingo by 6AM and arrive in time for the dinner and award ceremony, even though it was only a 35-mile crossing. I had read enough stories that seemed to indicate it was a hard crossing, tides were extremely important due to the shallow water, and the ground was what is called 'stick mud' - you can't stand in it. We were warned that if we grounded, not to get out of the boat, wait for the tide to push you off. The added complication was again the weather. Reports were for head winds at least 15 mph.

ASH was clearly in a lot of pain, but he was an ER nurse, had a good first-aid kit, and was taking proper care of his wounds. Someone had offered him a pair of gloves and Pelican had given him his bent shaft paddle (same paddle ASH usually uses). I told him we were pacing really comfortably, and that if he wanted to make the crossing with us, it might be an easy paddle for him. I really wanted him to join us and hoped his presence would help to push the pace a bit faster so we could make the banquet. TW and I really wanted to make that dinner and the festivities. ASH decided to cross the bay with us. We were the last three Challengers to leave Flamingo for Key Largo.

During the crossing, and for something to do, ASH and TW decided that I should work on my compass and chart navigation, and they offered to give me a few pointers. One of the biggest lessons I learned was that a GPS is really only useful with the corresponding paper charts. TW had lost the use of her waterlogged charts very early in the race. I had thought that since my GPS had a mapping feature, she could use my waterproof charts and I would use my GPS. But, though the GPS is a great navigational tool, having the bigger picture on the chart to reference with the GPS really is important to understanding your position and route. With only the GPS in hand, I made a few navigational errors as we paddled (especially in White Water Bay). It was by using the charts and the GPS together that we recovered quickly from those errors and returned to our course.

Saturday

The three of us left about 6:30AM, and during the morning, everything was fine. Problems began about the time we started in the channel at the Crocodile Crossover. The winds had been picking up during the day, and when we got to the Crossover they had reached 20 mph, directly in our face. We were working hard, getting nowhere fast. Once past the Crossover, in deeper water with the large fetch, the seas really began to build. TW was having lots of trouble staying on course. Her boat was sitting very low in the water, with waves breaking over our decks. For some reason her back hatch was taking on water, her nylon spray skirt was also failing and her cockpit was taking on water as well. As the wind picked up, with gusts 25-30 mph, seas building and quartering, TW's waterlogged kayak was continuing to make it impossible for her to keep her boat on course. Even forward progress was becoming difficult. Bob Key was about a mile away from us into the wind, when ASH and I put on tow belts to help us get to Bob Key to pump out TW's boat. It was now about 4PM when we reached Bob Key. We had 8 miles to go, but conditions were worsening. TW quickly bailed out her hatch and cockpit, and rearranged her packed load. While on Bob Key, we called ahead to explain our position and that with a few hours of daylight left; we were on our way in.

Leaving Bob Key, we hadn't paddled 10 minutes before realizing that TW's kayak was still giving her trouble and she was unable to stay on course in the winds. It seemed with every minute, winds and seas were building. We didn't have the energy to continue towing to Key Largo, and we realized we were not going to make dinner anyway. We decided we needed to get off the water for safety's sake. We managed to get to the next (and last) Mangrove Island, now only 6 miles from the finish, and raft up on the lee side. No solid ground. We called SaltyFrog again to report that we would need to stay over night, and felt completely defeated when SaltyFrog having found where we were on his chart and not able to see the water conditions from his vantage point, said so innocently "you're just across the Bay, come on over." You could hear the party going on in the background.

With the sun going down, we quickly changed into warmer clothes, rafted up, figured out how to get comfortable (not possible) so we could sleep in our boats, and rigged some protection over us to stay warm. All easier said than done. We tied the boats together and then to some mangrove roots in case the tide played tricks with us. Being in the middle, I was able to easily scoot up and down my deck to get into everyone's hatches to get warm clothes, tent fly etc. And, we proceeded to try and sleep. ASH was in terrible constant pain with his blisters, often crying out in the night trying to relieve the emotional burden if not the physical pain of having open wounds on his butt and forced to sit all night long. I put a dry bag under my seat to raise me enough to allow me to lay back on my back deck, but woke every hour with terrible back spasms. TW was certainly not any more comfortable, but at 5'2" she was able to scoot down into her larger cockpit.

Sunday


Finish Line!!!

At 4:30AM, ASH woke us up, figuring the winds were as good as they were going to get and we ought to get started while the going was good. We started on our way by 5:30, limping on in, arriving at the finish at 8:30. There were still many WaterTribers and family members there to cheer us on. We could see them on the camp beach as we paddled into the Bay in front of the campground. What a feeling of accomplishment! Chief and others helped us out of our boats. It took about 30 minutes before the total excitement and exhilaration allowed me to even think straight. Oddly enough, I was already thinking and looking forward to next year's Challenge.

After a shower and change of clothes, I enjoyed my celebratory dinner (great leftovers from the previous night's dinner), and Chief had an awards ceremony for the 3 of us. We each received our shark-tooth necklace (when the going got tough, TW and I often chanted "TOOTH, TOOTH, TOOTH") and our wooden paddle engraved with the WaterTribe logo and "Everglades Challenge", with space for a small, engraved plaque. What a personal accomplishment. But next year, I'm going for 2 teeth; challengers who take the Wilderness Waterway route during the EC (which adds 30 miles to the total distance) are awarded a shark took and a crocodile tooth.

Many months later, much of my adventure seems a blur. I have had to use Paul's notes from my daily reports to help write this report. I'm glad to have this report as a reference and as a way of sharing my adventure. I do remember what a great time I had, an incredible adventure, and how exciting it was. At the Captain's meeting before the Challenge, I thought Chief might have overheard me say "this is going to be so much fun". Later during his discussion, he said something to the effect that "If you are doing this because you think it will be fun, you will be in for a surprise. This is not for fun". I really thought he was speaking to me. It's true that at Checkpoint 1 on Sunday I reported home, "I'm having so much fun!" and by Tuesday it seemed more fitting to report, "I'm having so much… adventure!" Nevertheless, throughout the Challenge, I was having the most fun, doing what I like the most, paddling and camping. Even when we were hurting and tired, we never once thought we could not or would not finish the trip.

In 2004 TW and I were the 2nd and 3rd women to ever finish the EC in solo kayaks; the 1st was WateRose who finished in 2003. I consider this to be quite an accomplishment, an adventure I am very proud of. And, I can't wait for EC 2005, only this time; it's for two teeth.


SandyBottom and TurtleWoman - Key Largo

© Dawn Stewart 2005

 

 

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