"Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds." Hebrews 12:1-3

I suppose it wouldn't be right not to tell you this story from the very beginning. About five years ago, on a hot, muggy day I got to canoe class right on time, which meant I was about 20 minutes early. You see I had quit canoe three or four years before and had just started up again when we moved to Dickinson, and now lived about five minutes down the road from the Derrick's house. Anyhow, there I was all alone on the front porch of the Derrick's little house, quite bored. So I began reading all that was pinned up on the peg board hanging on the front wall of the house. There were several things, but a medium-sized, yellowed poster caught my eye. On it was a neat picture of people paddling down a river in the State of Texas, and various wildlife and such. It said above the picture 'TEXAS WATER SAFARI' and underneath, 'WORLD'S TOUGHEST BOAT RACE, 260 miles of non-stop paddling from San Marcos to Seadrift.' I looked at that for a long time and I started thinking, 'that would be really neat. It's probably a crazy idea and it'll never happen, but someday, maybe, I'll do this Texas Water Safari.'

I continued canoe classes faithfully, and was soon joined by Jonathan, Rebekah, and quite recently, Daniel. We have all grown to love canoeing to a greater or lesser degree. I went to canoe camp and was introduced to the first part of the river on which the race is held. Then I went to canoe camp again and the dream really started growing. Lori Yonley, Jenna Southard, and I started talking about it alot. The Derricks started telling us stories about it. At the end of the hike the second year of camp, Jenna and I wanted to jump off a 40ft cliff into the lake below, and we asked Mr. Derrick to count to three and tell us to jump. He asked if we were ready, and I honestly answered 'No sir.' I'll never forget his reply, he yelled 'Brandy, are you Water Safari material or not'' It took about three seconds of thought before I yelled back 'Yes sir, I'm ready!' and then we jumped.

Then last year I overheard David Rask saying he was training to do the Safari with his Dad in 2000. I was so excited for him, for the Safari has become the dream of most of the Derrick's students. When I went home that day, Daddy started talking about the Rough Riders Regatta, a sailboat version of the Water Safari, and how we ought to start racing together, then do Rough Riders in 2000. I said that would be great, then in one bold stroke of faith proposed that if I could do the Rough Riders Regatta with him, perhaps he could do the Safari with me. I nearly fell off my seat when he agreed, and rather quickly at that! I truly don't believe he had any idea of all the Safari involved at the time. I told him most of what I knew then, and then it all just went from there. That was the summer of '99, and it's amazing how quickly June of 2000 came up.

The preparation for the race was perhaps the most crucial factor for us to finish, and we were blessed with many people who helped us through every stroke we took toward the finish line. First and foremost were the Derricks. From start to finish they were the instigators and data bank of experience for this operation. Our two biggest needs at that point were a boat and a team captain. I was stumped on both counts, but it didn't take long before Dad thought of someone who might take care of the team captain problem. I think we have been going to the same church with the Nelson family for about six years or so. We have shared a love of camping and the study of how God created the earth. Daddy set his eye on their 19-year-old son Andrew, and as it turned out, he couldn't have picked a better man.

David Rask and his Dad were the next agents of aid. Mr. Rask started having some major back trouble and decided he wouldn't be able to race this year. David did not have much hope of racing after that, and we offered to buy his boat with the understanding that he could buy it back after the Safari if he wished to. So then we had our boat. Daddy and I had been paddling the Derricks' boats on Dickinson Bayou up to then. All the experience and training Dad possessed originated in Boy Scouts, and I was the only available teacher at present. I came to respect Mrs. Derrick a great deal as I tried to communicate paddling technique to Dad. It was quite a challenge, but Dad was an apt student. Once we had our boat we started making weekend trips to the river for further training. Andrew was our ground support for most of those training runs.

The Safari Seminar was one of our greatest assets of all. A man who had completed the Safari 16 or 17 times had very carefully compiled information and lessons learned from experience and condensed them into about six hours of lecture. He forewarned all us beginners of a host of problems and situations we would encounter, and then told us what we could do to deal with them. Most of the stuff he brought up I never would have imagined in a million years.

Jay Daniels became another important factor since he is the nearest canoe repairman, racing paddle supplier, and so on. He, too, was a long time Safari racer and he had a lot of suggestions and encouragement for us along the way. We got two Zaverel paddles from him, and called on him to patch a hole we punched in our boat while paddling on the river. That was just a couple weeks before the race.

The day before the race was rather strange. It took a while to get on the road Friday, since so many things all came up at the last minute, so we got to the Nelson's house several hours later than planned. Once there it was discovered that we had Mom's purse with us. This was a very big problem, since Mom was not with the purse. I called Mom and she said she would meet us at the campground in San Marcos as planned, despite the absence of her purse. In the meantime it had been decided we would load everything into Andrew's truck and leave our car at the Nelson's. This was quickly accomplished and we hit the road once again.

Most of the trip to San Marcos I was scrunched up in the back seat dreaming of a thesaurus and a pillow: the thesaurus because I was trying to write a story for Girl's Camp, and the pillow because there was an odd plastic device attached to the back of the truck which unavoidably stuck right into my back. The thesaurus couldn't be helped, but when we got to San Marcos I finally asked what that wicked plastic thing was for. To my dismay Andrew started laughing and informed me that the thing was magnetic and could have been removed easily.

Most of the way to San Marcos it rained, and it was still raining off and on when we got there. The Safari Check In had been moved indoors, but space was limited and there was no room for us and our canoe inside. So when the Safari official came by to check out our Safari manifest (a complete listing of everything we would take on the boat) he had to stand in the doorway and generally take our word for it or the manifest would have been soaked. Once check in was complete, there was a race briefing, reviewing all the rules and course instructions, and warning that the river was up because of the rain entailing fast-moving water and other unexpected dangers. I was quite bored by all this, as most of it was review for the fourth or fifth time, and the rest quite obvious. As it was going on though, I had a chance to look around at the other racers, and it didn't take long for me to begin wondering what on earth I was doing in the middle of all this.

Anyhow, when that was over, we found a tiny slot for our canoe inside and headed for the Goynes campground not so very far away, in search of Mom and her brood. That was the prelude to some very exciting experiences. After fruitlessly searching the campground, we went to the office and discovered that Mom had called the Goynes from a Smokehouse Restaurant in Schulenburg, Texas, where she had run clean out of gas. Remember, we still had her purse, and before leaving that morning, Dad had taken the van to the gas station to fill the tires with air and, Mom had assumed, the tank with gas. As it was, Mom started on a four-hour trip with 1/4 of a tank of gas, had confiscated the grand total of $11.00 in cash throughout the house, and had no way to buy more. So we took off for Schulenburg to rescue her, but five minutes down the road, Dad spotted her going the opposite direction. So we turned back around and found her at the campground. The lady at the cash register in the restaurant had given Mom $25 to buy gas and said she could call when she got to her purse and give her our credit card number. So they made it, tired and hungry though they were, and the Goynes allowed us to set up the pop up camper under the big pavilion, so we wouldn't be stuck out in the rain.

Once we had eaten some sandwiches for dinner and run around a little, the little people went to bed and Dad and I got our last shower. Then I fell upon an interesting predicament; neither Dad nor I had packed a sleeping bag, pillow, blanket, or anything for either one of us to sleep on that night. It worked out so Dad had a place to sleep in the camper, but I ended up outside with Jonathan and Andrew with the prospect of a few towels as a blanket. Fortunately I found a small blanket we keep in the van for trips, and stayed relatively warm. There were good size rocks and gravel under that pavilion, to keep it from getting muddy when it rains. I doubt that such a plot of ground was intended for a place to sleep, but we made it through the night. I was awake very early the next morning (as well as every time the rain started blowing up under the pavilion all night long) and was dressed and ready to go by the time the sun was most of the way up. We packed up all we needed and were on our way before the rest of the family was awake. On the way to City Park where the Safari starts, we stopped at a Super Wal-Mart to look for a lightweight rain jacket and get some ice. Be informed, Super Wal-Marts only have cheap little panchos and umbrellas designed for old ladies. Since there was a 90% chance of rain for the next two days and the two rain jackets we had were very heavy and uncomfortable, I was disappointed we couldn't find any alternative. We had exactly the kind of jacket I needed at home, but it never occurred to me I would need it. I resigned myself to paddling for two days in foul weather gear designed for sailing and went on about life.

Upon arrival we began packing all our gear into our canoe the Young and the Foolish. We packed up all the technical gear, and then started on the food. I had 'seal-a-mealed' all our food to make it waterproof, then packed enough for 12 hours of paddling in a ziploc bag. This meant we had a ziploc package of food for every day and one for every night. We packed all our 'day packs' and 'night packs' into mesh bags rigged under our seats for easy access. When we picked up the canoe to carry it outside, the issue of weight really came home, but there was nothing we could eliminate beyond what we already had. Dad and I slathered sunscreen all over ourselves, I borrowed some scissors from Andrew and cut four inches off my britches that had been dragging on the ground. Then Dad pulled Jonathan, Andrew, and I aside from the crowd and we committed the trip to the Lord recognizing the feebleness of all our plans and entrusting Him with our ultimate safety. Then we took the boat to the waters edge, I French braided my hair and pulled on my hat, then we hopped in and paddled around a bit.

I became somewhat alarmed at how badly Daddy was distracted by all the activity; he couldn't seem to pay attention to paddling. To help the layman understand my predicament, I was trained by my canoe teacher, Mrs. Derrick, to paddle 'racing style.' This means that the sternman does not sweep and rarely draws, but calls out 'Hut' to the bowman which signals him to switch sides at the same time as the sternman. The force of the sternman paddling on the right side of the boat causes the boat to turn gradually to the left. By 'hutting,' the sternman is then paddling on the left side and gradually turns the boat back to the right. This only works if the bowman switches sides when the sternman calls 'hut'. So now you may or may not understand how we got down the river without running into things, but the point is, I was having a rough time steering without the cooperation of my bowman.

At the race's start, we were in row six out of 16, position two out of six. I didn't understand either right at first, but due to the fact that 85 boats started the race and the river is only about 50 feet wide at an uneducated guess, the start was organized so there were only six boats across the width of the river, six boats behind them, and so on. We saw Mom and the kids among the crowd on the bank. It was so good to see them! Mom was taking some video and all that. I wish I could describe the scene at the start of the Texas Water Safari! It was amazing! There were boats all over the river, as far as I could see in both directions. All sorts of boats, three-man and four-man and six-man canoes, solo canoes, two-man racing canoes like ours, solo kayaks and two-man kayaks, aluminum canoes and ABS recreational canoes. So many different people in all those boats, wearing all sorts of things. In one boat I saw a fellow and a lady who was wearing a cute little white hat with silk sunflowers pinned to the top. There were guys with cowboy hats or baseball caps, and some had no hats at all. Some people wore tights, others wore shorts, some wore loose fitting lightweight pants like ours. Everyone so different, but the same excited gleam in every eye.

I suppose the shore was just as incredible. It literally swarmed with people: family, friends, curious onlookers, past racers and future racers, dozens of race officials, team captains calling out to their teams. Everyone was at fever pitch excitement along the bank. Before the countdown to the start began, the announcer called everyone to prayer. He then acknowledged the God of creation and thanked Him for the mighty rivers we would be paddling on, as well as asking for safe passage for all in the race. It was awesome. The starter then announced five minutes to the start of the race and everyone started hooting and hollering and clapping and cheering. The starter announced three minutes to the start, then one, all with similar response. Then the count was down to seconds. The crowd along the bank yelled along with the starter, 'Five, four, three, two, ONE!' At 9:00 a.m. that Saturday, a melee broke out like nothing I ever heard. We began moving forward with the rest of the flotilla, but though the world whizzed by us, it seemed to stand still in a whirl of color and noise all mingled into one.

My main concern was trying not to run into any of the other 84 boats on the river. We only got about 5% of them I think. Our first dilemma was a small spillway shortly down the river. Most boats were portaging left, but I watched Mrs. Derrick and Lori Yonley portage right much more quickly. Dad voted for left, I pleaded for right, Dad relented, we went right, and saved some time due to less congestion. I never would have believed the ruckus that went on with all those canoes on so little water. Some of them just flipped right over in the confusion. After about an hour it had smoothed out pretty well and an order of boats had been somewhat established, the faster teams having made their way to the front and the slower teams to the rear. We saw Mom and all the kids playing in the shallow water at the Goynes' place, I can't describe how encouraging it was to see our family out there on the river.

The sun was out and it wasn't raining despite the weatherman's foreboding predictions. Nevertheless, there were some pleasant little clouds up there which kept the sun out of our eyes. About two hours into the paddling and dodging of tree limbs and maneuvering around rocks and dams and so on Daddy gave a mini sermon on why we needed to reapply sunscreen. (Not that I was in disagreement, I think he was trying to convince himself of the necessity of stopping.) I reminded Dad that we had put on ample sunscreen only two hours ago. He seemed rather startled at this and, looking at his watch, exclaimed 'You mean we've only been paddling for two hours!' That was rather worrisome to me, but about that time one of the race officials called out from the bank that we were in 40th position overall. This amazed me really. I could hardly believe we were doing so well. I began to realize that the people that were paddling around us were mostly young men, pretty hefty looking, rather intimidating, too, when compared to a 16-year-old girl and a 45-year-old man with very little experience. Andrew and Jonathan said we were in a rare class having not flipped yet.

The river was beginning to get wilder though, faster, rougher. Boats that had been doing well before started flipping. We had a couple close calls, but still hadn't taken a bath. We saw a ziploc bag with something green in it floating in the water and I picked it up. It looked like a rain jacket, but I wasn't sure. According to the rules of the race, a team may salvage anything out of the river and use it as needed, but may not be given anything by anyone. They can't even touch anyone outside their team. Nonetheless, we began asking all the boats we encountered if they had lost the jacket in the bag, with the intent of 'accidentally' losing it in such a way that the original owners could salvage it if they wished. We never did find the owners, and soon it began to rain. I prayed mercy for the person who had lost their jacket, then took it out and put it on. It was exactly what I had tried to find that morning at Wal-Mart and couldn't, although it was a little big. It was very comfortable to paddle in.

We went through some tough portages and rough rapids as the day went on. Because of the rain clouds it became dark rather quickly. On the portages I found my greatest weakness. I can paddle very powerfully due to good training and technique, but when it comes to brute strength, well, girls are girls. Carrying a boat is rather awkward and heavy, and it was a constant struggle for me to keep from tripping, not always a triumphant struggle either. Dad was still fighting a losing battle switching sides when I called huts, and I think I got down right snippy about it, too. I eventually gave up the right to a cooperative bowman and went on with life.

At Ottine Dam, we were instructed by a race official in a life jacket and hard hat that life jackets were mandatory from this point forward and must be worn until further notice. This was due to the rising water and growing safety hazard with night coming on. About five boats converged upon the dam all at the same time, ours included, and we all had to stop and go very slowly and carefully around it, single file.

It was pretty dark when we got to Palmetto State Park, the water was up six feet, and there was a lady standing up to her waist in water on what was usually the low water bridge. She was holding a big, blinking yellow light to alert incoming teams they had reached Palmetto checkpoint and asking boat numbers. We yelled back '52' and she yelled '52' to all the waiting team captains on the bank. We pulled up to the shore only with great effort due to the current, and by then Andrew had made his way down to the river. We got some water and he alerted us to some upcoming log jams. We were in high spirits, 33rd overall, still hadn't tipped, and two hours ahead of schedule. We planned to be at the Gonzales 35 bridge in three or four hours and sleep there before going on. Jonathan and Andrew reminded us to be careful and we were off.

We had never paddled at night and had never paddled on a flooded river either. I started out from Palmetto with all the joy and resilience of youth, but I sobered up a might as we saw more and more debris in the river: huge trees and logs moving almost as fast as we were, branches reaching out threateningly. I began to realize that just bumping into one of those trees would flip us in an instant, and very likely damage the boat, if not us. Then we came upon our first log jam. There was another boat working its way through on the left side of the jam, but we came up to the jam in the middle and had to back up to try to get to the left. While trying to back up against the current, debris floated down on top of us and pushed us back into the jam turned sideways. I was well alarmed by then and I remember telling Dad, 'We're going to be destroyed here.' Stuck broadside to the current, and more stuff coming in after us, it was a bad fix. Daddy got out onto a log, pulled the boat up enough for me to get out on the same log, and we pushed the canoe into the 'channel' on the left side of the jam. The 'channel' wasn't much of a channel at all, and we remained bogged down and surrounded by logs. About half way through the jam, several boats came up to the jam, and I turned around and shouted for them to go to the far right. I didn't realize until I turned back around that my right was their left and vise versa, and I had just told those people to go the wrong way. Dad was pushing on some logs trying to get the boat over them and didn't pay much attention. I started to tell him the mistake I had just made then stopped. All the logs around us suddenly began to shift, just slightly, and then to move. One such log, two feet in diameter, was lodged upright on the left side of the canoe, just opposite me. It began to tilt, and the log I was standing on began to move. The whole jam was beginning to break up. Dad later said he would never forget what I said next. Very urgently and low I said, 'Dad, it's moving.'

Then it all started to go and the log I was on was moving faster than the boat, so Dad told me to get in the canoe, while he remained on a log on the left of the canoe. The two-foot diameter tree that had been tilting began to tilt a little more, right toward me. It was putting a lot of strain on the kevlar and I could hear it beginning to crack very sickeningly. I quickly put my shoulder to the log and attempted to push it off of the boat. That obviously didn't work, and I cried out, 'Daddy, it's crushing the boat!' still trying to push it off. He yelled for me to get out of the boat since that log was coming down right on top of me. So I got back on the log I had been on before and tried to push the leaning log off the boat and me as it came down on my back. The sound of kevlar being crushed and logs snapping and straining against each other filled my ears as that big log came down and pinned me between the canoe and the log I had jumped out onto. Dad yelled for me to try to get out and I prayed, out loud, for help to do just that. The log rolled off my back and into the water taking the back end of the Young and the Foolish under and holding it there. I was horrified at the state of our boat and sort of whimpered, 'Isn't there anything we can do'' Daddy sadly replied 'Brandy, it's already been done.'

The logjam continued to break up, turning and shifting in a sickening mass of movement. The racers that were at the back of the jam made sure we were not injured, and encouraged us to get up on the bank if we could, then made their way on down river through the debris. We were able to get the boat dislodged, hold on to it as the jam moved past, and then drag our crushed and mangled canoe up a steep embankment into the middle of thick scrub and brush. I felt numbed by the horrible violence of the jam breaking up, but Daddy kept a cool head and seemed to know just what to do. We trampled down the brush and vines as best we could to make some work space, then got out some light to inspect the damage.

The gunwales were broken clean through in five places, and the kevlar was considerably torn. The rear end of the boat was just hanging on by a narrow strip of kevlar along the bottom. It was unbelievable. We were finished, through. Now this impossible dream of completing the Safari really was impossible.

This is where the log fell over the boat and what it looked like after the race and the tape was removed.
The stern where the gunwales were broken on both sides and the kevlar torn from top to bottom.

Here are two more locations where the gunwales were broken by the logjam as it broke up.

Dad pulled out the repair kit: duct tape, tie wraps, some stock wire, a pocket knife, a towel, and two bandanas. He started with the tie wraps, reattaching the gunwales to themselves. The holding system for my seat had been broken off in the back, and Dad used the stock wire to string it back together. Then Dad and I pulled out the tarp and slept for about five hours. When we woke up it was time for the duct tape; trouble was between the rain and the condensation, we couldn't get the boat dry enough for the tape to stick. We ended up rubbing all the damaged surfaces with our finger tips to create enough friction to dry it. It took forever, but Dad was finally satisfied with the patch and we manhandled the canoe back into the water through the underbrush. By this time I had begun to believe we could make it. If I had a bowman who could take a mangled boat like the one we had and rebuild it, what could stop us' Having triumphed over our greatest obstacle, we pressed on once again.

Before reaching the Gonzales 35 bridge, we had to portage Gonzales Dam. This was a lovely portage, through a large field of poison ivy. By the time we finally reached Gonzales 35, we had been 'missing' for 13 hours. As we had sat on the shore making repairs, we would shout out our boat number and a brief status statement to fellow racers as they passed by on the river. By this method, Andrew and the race officials knew we had been held up by a logjam but we were safe. The racers that had been present during the break up were convinced our boat was completely destroyed and we were through. It was, therefore, assumed we would try to walk out. But it was slowly understood that we were making repairs. When we got to the check point, we were very warmly received and were asked to tell our story more than once. I had a guy with a camera ask me to tell about our adventure, and then he asked all sorts of 'camera man questions.' He asked me how I was feeling three times. Anyhow, the race officials encouraged us to keep on going by saying, 'Ya'll were doing great before this happened, now just get out there and haul water!'

This we fully intended to do. The next stretch of river was the longest stretch of river in the race which is unbroken by any outside access. We went on and on, dreaming of human faces, until finally we reached Hocheim and got more water. If I remember right, we passed two boats along the way. Our next checkpoint was Cheapside and in between was the hottest part of the day. We almost caught a red, two-man kayak just before Cheapside, but darkness came on, and they stayed just out of reach. With darkness came the hallucinations. It was unbelievable the things we saw in the trees: lions and elephants, demons and teddy bears, oh hundreds of teddy bears. I saw Mr. Kentucky Fried Chicken right there in the trees; the clarity of his picture was astounding. I saw a real live man on the bank, standing in the trees, then he vanished into thin air. I watched him! There were ducks and dinosaurs and horses and Abraham Lincoln and George Washington. Where do I stop' The list goes on and on. We were so tired that they seemed rather real in fact, this menagerie of images.

I've never been so grateful for a bridge. Jonathan was almost as good as the bridge. Somehow having a family member right there brought some sanity to my bewildered mind. We spread the tarp and the lights went out, I was so dead tired! We slept for six hours, and took off again before the sun was up. It was thinking about coming up when we got to Cuero Dam. Trying to find the correct portaging route was difficult in the dark, and after getting back in the water, finding the right channel was even harder. We passed three boats for our trouble though. From there on it was pretty smooth paddling. On arriving at the Cuero 236 bridge, the race official was very optimistic about the river ahead. He was of the opinion that we could sleep in Seadrift that night, all due to the fast water and fortunate lack of log jams. We wished it were possible, but such a goal was hardly practical. We were just over half way through at the time and it had taken two days to get that far. The water was handily fast though and we did get moving. We saw Andrew and Jonathan at the FM 447 Nursery bridge, but didn't need water yet, so we kept on to Victoria City Park. By then my back side was beginning to ache from all the sitting. We got to Victoria around noon, I guess, and stretched our legs pretty well there.

Leaving the Victoria City Park Checkpoint

It was a long way between Victoria and Dupont Park, and in between was such a weary bit of paddling. Shortly before reaching Dupont, Dad became frustrated that we were hitting so much floating debris, nothing big mind you, but enough little stuff to get on your nerves. He was also irritated by the timing of my huts, sometimes very close together and sometimes not. Unfortunately, there was little I could do about that. I had given up trying to get Dad to hut when I called hut since it rarely worked anyway. In spite of that I continued to call hut when I was supposed to. This mixture really grated on Daddy's nerves. He was trying hard to remember all the technique but he was very tired. For my part, the steering was a nightmare. I had to muscle the boat around obstacles and turns due to the lack of cooperation. Anyhow, that was our challenge for the last half of the race: team work.

When we reached Dupont Park, there were two other boats pulled up, with both teams trying to overcome heat exhaustion. They looked to be in pretty bad shape, and Andrew had expected us to be in similar straits, but fortunately we were not. Dad was tired, I could tell by the way he was paddling, but there was still some day left and we set out for Tivoli post haste. Andrew warned us before taking off that several log jams had been reported up ahead, but information was sketchy. We encountered plenty of floating trees before ever coming to the jam. Actually we had such smooth paddling we had begun to hope all the jams were broken up. However, madly dashing to get around a moving log mat, we made the mistake of going under one of the low-hanging trees. It was a narrow section of river the whole way, and the trees were close on either side. Through the darkness it was hard to discern the territory up ahead, and we never saw the jam until we were right in the middle of it. The floating mat came from behind us and pinned us amongst the trees. I heard again that terrifying sound of enormous logs groaning and straining against each other and the swelled river. Crying out to our Father for mercy we somehow made it out of the trees to the opposite side of the river and there we stopped. The log mat lodged itself behind us and continued to creak and strain for a few moments. I was terrified it would come from behind us and it would be the same story all over again. I wanted to pull the boat up on the land and portage. The sounds were making me mad, but once again Dad held his senses together and had the discernment to recognize that this jam had been there awhile, and was fairly stationary. We pulled the boat up on top of the logs and pulled it across the dam. Soon enough we smelled a dead animal and discovered a large, decapitated alligator. In life Daddy guessed it was approximately 8-10 ft. It was well-bloated, floating on it's back. We were glad to get that place behind us. I was so grateful for the Lord's protection and so nervous after the last scare, I started to sing. I always sing when I'm scared, it gets the jitters out. I think my favorite was 'Guide me Oh, Thou Great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren land. I am weak but Thou art mighty, lead me with Thy powerful hand.'

It was a grand relief to reach the Saltwater Barrier dam, and an even bigger relief that it was not in operation so we did not have to portage. From then on, the end was in sight, and I was ready to push myself to the fullest. When we got to Tivoli we had a terrible time finding Jonathan and Andrew. They were both asleep, so we had to wake up Andrew so he could sign us into the checkpoint. I had a hard time sleeping that night. I was terribly exhausted, but I kept calling huts in my sleep, and I dreamt that the water had risen two feet, and the ground where we were sleeping was underwater. I was afraid we would float into another logjam but I couldn't find my paddle. I decided I was too tired to worry about it, Andrew would tell us if we were in trouble. I woke up at 4:30 and couldn't return to sleep. Several people with lawn chairs had walked up, sat down, and started talking about four feet away from us. I felt really sick and wanted to throw up. I needed to eat, but the thought of it made me sicker. We were so close I had to keep going. It never occurred to me not to.

I tried to eat before we left, but had to spit it right back out. I was just barely paddling. I wanted to go for the finish, but I felt so sick. We found Trailers Cut and blundered our way through that narrow passageway. We passed the wooden bridge just before the bay. Then there it was stretching out in front of us, the last leg of our journey. I didn't even feel like smiling. We pulled out onto the bank and I collapsed on the ground while Dad began to prepare the boat for the bay crossing. The sun had just come up and the breeze was very refreshing. I was able to get back up and help put the spray cover on, and felt ready to go after watching two aluminum canoes paddle past. I feared, at first entry of the bay, that it had been a waste of time to put on the spray cover. The waves were pretty calm and the wind rather pleasant. It didn't take long, however, before the spray cover redeemed itself over and over. About the middle of the bay the wind and waves both picked up and started dancing with each other. I was too tired to enjoy the action as I had during our training run of the bay.

Once we turned around Foster point the wind became a serious issue. The boat was insistent we should turn into the wind, and I had to battle to keep it close to the shore line, the difference was about 60 degrees. I ended up drawing on the right side for the remainder of the bay. We finally saw the flag pole, and then it was only a matter of time before we reached it. We could see Jonathan and Andrew running along the bank with us, which was a great encouragement, but I was numb to any excess of emotion by then. All our friends from canoe class were there to cheer us across the finish line and help us out of the water. It was a wondrous feeling to be done, to have done it, and to not have to do it anymore for right now. We talked with the Rasks and Southards and Yonleys and Goynes and some others we didn't previously know, sharing stories and all that. My main concern was a shower! Forget the Safari, my hair felt like a horse's tail and the rest of me felt like an indescribably filthy wretch. We bought a breakfast burrito and headed for the showers down the road.

The Safari people rent two hotel rooms for the finishers to shower upon finishing. What a blessing it was, too. Ah, and clean clothes, what a dream! Once clean, life was looking up. We cleaned out the boat and loaded all our junk into Andrew's truck. Then we waited for lunch time to role around. We finished around 8:30 a.m. on Tuesday , but noon seemed to take a while in coming.

Tommy Yonley and Michael Rask had previously owned the Young and the Foolish, and had completed the Safari in it twice. They were both very impressed with our new boat markings and the duct tape job. Everybody knew us, I was supprised to find, and they all knew our log jam story. It was so funny to hear people retelling it. The facts varied with the story teller, but they all got the main idea, and all were duly impressed with our repair job.

By the time lunch came around, I was feeling light headed from the bright sun and lack of food. I discovered however that my appetite had been altered by the eating schedule of the race, and for the next several days the times and amounts of food I could eat were rather bizarre. The awards ceremony was really neat. There was a prevailing attitude of genuine gratefulness among all the racers. Many gave glory to God unashamedly for His great mercy and power and for many an answered prayer. There were some tears, but most came from laughter. Our family arrived only after we were given our finisher's plaque. We stuck it out till the very end, and enjoyed the culmination of this great race.

I never believed from a realistic point of view that this dream would ever be fulfilled. It could be said that many people were instrumental in our successful finish. I think it would be better to say that Daddy and I were the unworthy players who received all the glory, but were totally dependent on many unseen team members. God does exceedingly, abundantly above all we could ever ask or think. It is by His grace that this is the story of a dream come true.

Brandy Ellen Zeek
(47th overall, 2nd in our class)

Brandy, Don, and Andrew - At the Finish Line after we took showers

When Brandy mentioned that she would like to race in the Texas Water Safari (TWS) the first time around the beginning of the year, I was not very enthusiastic about the prospects of spending 3-4 days non-stop paddling down a river. I new little of the hardships and perils to expect during the trip or the cost of time for training and preparation in addition to the cost for the equipment which would be required. Prior to our first training run on the San Marcos River in late March, I had never spent more than two hours in a canoe at a time. I had spent up to 8 hours at a time on a 16' catamaran sailboat for three back-to-back races on many occasions, but that was not very helpful experience since there is plenty of room to stretch and move around before, during, and after each race. I agreed to begin pursuing the possibility of actually competing in the race with little faith that we would actually be able to get everything worked out to actually finish the race if we started it. We needed a boat, paddles, Team Captain, and lots of training and equipment preparation that seemed insurmountable considering that I had responsibilities for a family of eight children (seven at home) who my wife, Sandy, and I educate at home. It was during this early time considering whether we would try to race that we mentioned our Texas Water Safari intentions to a new friend at church, Dwight Hulin. His enthusiasm so bubbled over (about a race he had never participated in) that I started to think more seriously about actually trying to see if Brandy and I could do it. We started to practice on Dickinson Bayou using a canoe that Peter and Kathy Derrick loaned to us. Brandy trained me to paddle using the most efficient technique she had learned from the Derricks. She was a patient teacher, praising me when I would get it right and gently reminding me to sit up straight, keep my arms straight and twist my body at the waist more. I actually think the paddling technique helped reduce the cases of occasional back pain I had experienced for over ten years. Brandy explained in her report how God provided a canoe, Team Captain - Andrew Nelson, paddles, etc. God also made it possible for Brandy and me to attend the TWS seminar and schedule several trips down the river. After those trips I was still committed but began to realize that we were not going to be successful without God's blessing, His strength, and His protection. As we made our last minute preparations before the race I prepared a laminated copy of some verses from God's word, given through the prophet Isaiah, that says:

'Why do you say, O Jacob, And speak, O Israel: 'My way is hidden from the Lord, and my just claim is passed over by my God'' Have you not known' Have you not heard' The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth neither faints nor is weary. There is no searching of His understanding. He gives power to the weak, and to those that have no might He increases strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall, but those that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.' Isaiah 40:27-31

God protected us during the breakup of the log jam that damaged our boat. He gave us strength to go on even after our goal to finish the race in 100 hours seemed to be crushed. He kept us alert, healthy, and strong till the race's end and then till I could crawl into my own bed after going 90 hours with only 16 hours of sleep.

There were three goals that I determined would provide Brandy, Andrew Nelson, and me with guidance for our decisions before and during the race. I wasn't focusing on winning our canoe class, though I will admit it was hard for me to not take on a competitive spirit once the race had started and we were either being passed or passing someone else.

1. We wanted to finish the race safely with good preparation and not take chances during the race. For example, we portaged around Cottonseed Rapids rather than risk damaging ourselves or the boat so early in the race.

2. We wanted to finish within the 100 hour time limit. (Required in order to receive a finisher's plaque.)

3. We wanted to enjoy the trip (have fun) enough so that we would want to canoe or possibly even compete in the Texas Water Safari again. I didn't want to be turned off from canoeing because we had taken our performance in the race too seriously.

Now that we have finished, one day ahead of the 100 hour time limit and having survived the perils of moving log mats and log jams, I can say that we succeeded in meeting these three goals. I hope that we have honored our God and Savior Jesus Christ in the process.

There are several comments that Brandy has made about my performance as a bowman that I believe are worthy of clarification. Brandy did an outstanding job of steering us safely down the river in what turned out to be an unexpected high water year with lots of floating debris (trees and parts of trees) to avoid. I admit to being slow to respond on many occasions throughout the 71.5 hour race, but take issue with the implication that I missed most of the huts during the race. I realize that our perspectives are different and that we disagree on the number of times that I missed the hut. There were many times that I felt the need to continue on the same side even after a hut was called to assist in avoiding an obstacle that Brandy may have not seen. Overall I feel that we communicated the constantly changing situations on the river very well throughout the race but also know we could have done better. Overall I have to chuckle when I think about the hut issue. I didn't realize how important getting the huts right was to Brandy until she revealed my shortcoming in her report.

There are many people that made our trip down the river successful and I would like to publicly thank each of them:

• Andrew Nelson our Team Captain deserves the most praise and expression of gratitude. He took off from work to help us practice, to compete in the preliminary 'Texas Marathon Race,' and for the Safari. He was available and dependable to be at every check point and took the initiative to make preparations to assist in making water and ice handoffs. He was an encouragement at each stopping point along the river. It kept us going just knowing he was looking for us at the next access he had to the river's edge. He was alert to gather and pass on any information that he could glean about the river below from other Team Captains. Thank you Andrew for making our trip a success.

• Peter and Kathy Derrick for access to Dickinson Bayou, for experienced counsel, and for the training that you gave Brandy that I have now benefited from. They also gave us the contacts we needed to get equipment and repairs as well as share transportation to make the San Marcos to Luling training run.

• Dwight Hulin for his enthusiasm that gave me the confidence I needed to actually undertake such an adventure called the Texas Water Safari.

• My Mom, Dad and their friends the Fauleys, Strongs, and Moriartys for picking us up on our training run from Dupont Park to Seadrift and feeding Brandy and me before our drive home to Dickinson.

• Jay Daniel for fixing our canoe within a few weeks before the TWS after damaging the boat during our upper river run.

• Robert Youens for giving his time to pass on his experience so that others can complete the TWS successfully. The thoroughness in his seminar materials gave us a checklist of issues to take care of during our training and preparations.

• The Goynes for providing a dry place (pavilion) for my family to camp out of the rain the night before the race.

• TG Canoe Livery for leaving out the foam seat padding for pickup during our upper river run. The padding was the only way I survived sitting down in a narrow canoe for 3 days with minimal reprieves.

• Jonathan Zeek for assisting our Team captain, Andrew Nelson, for the three non-stop days of the TWS. Just seeing Jonathan at most of the checkpoints was an encouragement to Brandy and me. Some of the times he was sleeping.

• Sandy Zeek (my wife) for managing the family at home during the times that Brandy and I were preparing, training, or racing.

Now I look forward to the prospect of participating in the TWS several more times at least. My 11 year old son Jonathan is already asking if we can race the TWS next year. I told him, 'Only if it's the Lord's will, son'.

Don Zeek