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John Alexander, Mary Wilson, Bill Brooks Jr. and I did the Texas
Water Safari in 1992. It sounds so simple, and yet . . . For those of
you who have exited Texas- or otherwise are not familiar with the
Safari . . . It is held each year in June and is advertised as the
WORLD'S MOST DIFFICULT CANOE RACE (and yes, that should be in
capitals).
Imagine, if you will, a 260-mile canoe race (that is 2-HUNDRED
and SIXTY MILES), starting on the San Marcos River at Aquarena Springs
(the source of the river), joining the Guadalupe near Gonzales, and
ending in the Gulf of Mexico at the town of Sea Drift. I had toyed
with the idea of taking on this challenge for several years- the
problem being that I could never find anyone crazy enough to join me.
This year I had a plan. I gathered all the information I could, and
bated my trap. Waiting until John Alexander came over one night, I
started plying him with liquor. Several Wellers later I casually tossed
him my accumulated literature with the comment, 'a guy would have to be
completely off his rocker to even think of trying anything like this . . .
especially at our age'. The rest was just a matter of letting him talk
me into it (Child's play, really).
That same night I called another friend (victim?)- Mary Wilson. I had
approached her earlier, thinking she might be foolhardy enough to join me;
after all, she had once taught canoeing at Texas A&M University. She turned
me down flat - from which I gathered I had simply not prepared the groundwork
correctly. I did however, think I might just be able to talk her into
'Captaining' for us (The Captain is actually ground support, following along
in a car, meeting you at road crossings and supplying you with water, ice and
moral encouragement the ONLY help or supplies you are allowed to accept
from anyone outside your boat). The night I called I got her answering machine,
explaining to it what John and I had planned, I requested Mary's help.
The next day Mary called back - resolved to joining us in the canoe, not
just on shore (evidently her machine was more convincing than I). Actually,
she wasn't about to turn down a challenge made by a mere man. She gave in
so easily . . . there was no challenge . . . somehow it spoiled some
of the fun.
I finally talked my brother, Bill, into Captaining for us and our band
was complete. (Though I really wondered if Bill realized just what he
had agreed to when he commented that he planned on seeing to us during
the day and driving back to Austin to sleep at night. I mean, we
weren't planning on sleeping- what made him think he could?)
Imagine a race that attracts competitors from all over North
America, bringing with them very high dollar, state-of-the-art canoes
and kayaks- the cream of the racing circuit. These hard-core athletes
come to Texas for one purpose- to participate in the longest-hardest-most-arduous
canoe race in the U.S. . . . And then there was us.
Three novices, middle aged and out of shape, in an old, beat-up,
decrepit and INCREDIBLE HEAVY aluminum canoe. We were christened the
'Heavy Cruisers' by the local news. (Yes, we were interviewed on TV.
It seems the past champions and hands on favorites were from College
Station. The news did a 'compare and contrast' piece on us . . . the
serious competitors and the rank amateurs, modesty prevents me
from saying which was which).
Forty-nine boats started the race, 9:00 a.m. Saturday June 13,
1992, amid a blaze of glory and considerable splashing we were on our
way. Our canoe crossed the finish line some 74 hours and 13 minutes
later. 11:13 Tuesday morning found us tired & grubby, beaten &
battered, but with beers in hands and smiles on our faces (the beers,
of course, accounting for the smiles) coming in 2nd in our division! .
. . Of course, there were only three boats in our division- and we
came in 37th overall . . . with only 42 boats finishing . . . Also,
the winning time was more like 31 hours instead of our 74 . . . but,
we won't dwell on all these paltry details.
Our whole idea this year was simply to finish the race (To
officially finish, you must cross the finish line, without outside
assistance, within 100 hours) . . . many teams didn't. We passed one
crew on the second day, sitting in a tree in midstream. When we ask
where their boat was they simply pointed down into the water, with
tears in their eyes. Many participants ended up in the hospital with
varying problems ranging from heatstroke and dehydration to twisted
ankles. Several dropped out- and at least two were disqualified.
Along the course we encountered sun, extremely high water, sun,
mosquitoes, sand, mud, salt, sun, strong head winds, dams, sun, log
jams, poison ivy, fire ants, alligators, snakes and lots of sun.
I think one of my most memorable moments came when we crossed the
mid-point. I was not doing so well. Still thinking of just how tired I
was . . . how much I was hurting . . . how foolish I was to have
ever even tried a crazy stunt like this. I hadn't yet gotten to the
point where I actually realized that I had died and gone to Hell . . .
that this was an endless river of pain and suffering that must have
been levied upon me for the EVIL I had done in an earlier life . . .
you get the idea. I figured we needed something to cheer us up. I
carefully watched the time and the map and as close as I could come to
the appropriate place, I marshaled my strength, and in the cheeriest
tone I could manage, announced that we had just crossed the half - way -
point . . . John and Mary's reaction was immediate, 'you mean we have
to do that again!'. They were talking to me again before the end of
the race.
As of right now I have washed my clothes five times, and still
they have that elusive fragrance . . . Something like a
sweat-saltwater-mud-sewage-oil-sunscreen-insecticide-Ben Gay
type odor. I'm torn between saving then for next year and just
burning them outright. And yes, despite it all we are looking forward
to next year's race. A few bug bites, . . . sunburn, . . .
assorted cuts and bruises, . . . blistered and swollen hands, . . .
poison ivy, . . . diaper rash, . . . sore-strained-sprained
muscles, . . . physical exhaustion, . . . heat stroke and dehydration
. . . ?????? It wasn't that bad!
The important thing is that the boat is still in one
piece - and we'll heal - eventually. Anyway, we got neat
T-shirts, patches and plaques to hang on our walls . . .
not to mention some great stories- and we don't even have to embellish
them! Anyone interested in a nice- casual float trip, say
about this time NEXT YEAR???
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