Flooded Timber on Tensaw Lake
Sunday, April 3, 2005 brint.adams@us.army.mil
Bob, Larry, Gary, Jerry, Tom, Matt, Chris and I met at The Stagecoach Cafe in Stockton at 1:00 PM and continued north to Upper Bryant's Landing. As expected, Tensaw Lake was flooded probably 6-8 feet above normal. The road accessing the summer houses along the bank was flooded, leaving them all stranded and accessible only by water. The weather was perfect, with clear skies, no wind and 72 degrees.
We put in and immediately took a couple of group photos next to the road sign on the flooded road. We then proceeded to paddle under some of the houses up on stilts and out into Tensaw Lake. I paddled over someones wrought iron deck furniture as I passed under there house. Once out in the lake, we started west for 0.25 miles and turned north into the cut-through to Douglas Lake. The water level was high enough to allow us to paddle over the underbrush, so we just picked our own paths through the forest.
We came out into Douglas, turned west again and found what normally is a small branch to the north which eventually plays out up in the forest. However, with flooded conditions, there was always enough water to paddle our own course wherever we wanted to. We continued due north, for what turned out to be about 4.5 miles, enjoying the peacefulness under cover of the forest. Along the way, we paddled through three separate clear-cut areas, which made the going a little tougher as we were at the level of the canopy of the younger trees and had to pick our way around some.
We saw Little Blue Herons, Snowy egrets, various water snakes trying to stay dry and turtles sunning themselves.
We attempted to find Proctor Creek and follow it south to Tensaw Lake, but passed it by and eventually came out on Big Beaver Creek, just east of the Canal Island platform. Once we re-grouped, we decided to return by way of Tensaw Lake and stopped at Hubbard's Landing for a snack and to stretch our legs.
We started downriver and continued to see alot of yellow top along the flooded banks. From Hubbard's Landing south, the east bank continues to rise to about 100 feet above the river. All along the bank, we found honeysuckle azalea still in the late stages of bloom, as well as coral honeysuckle in full bloom and mountain laurel, some in full bloom and other areas just ready to pop out. We passed close by a large softshell turtle out sunning, who grudgingly left his log when we got too close for comfort.
With flooded conditions, the cut-through at the Coon Neck bend looked like the normal course of the river, as we bypassed the mouth of Douglas Lake. And all too soon were back to Upper Bryant's, where we paddled in past the raised summer houses and down the campsite road next to the bathhouse.
This was truly a wonderful and different paddle and well worth timing to hit during the narrow window of opportunity in the spring when it is sufficiently flooded.
Upper Bryant's Landing (a week earlier)
by Avan Warner
Bob and I, again visited Bryant's Landing, researching the flower progress. We were two weeks earlier than the previously mentioned trip. The water was high, but not in flood stage, to do the flooded timber route. We did go into the creek to notice that some small caliber trees (2-3 inches) had fallen across the path, so bring a saw for your next flooded timber visit. The lady in the store, said that the water was rising up river, so we might have flooded timber by the weekend. Remember to tell her you have a canoe or kayak and the boat launch charge is only $2.00.
Let me back up a moment to tell you about the yellow wildflowers. Butterweed (Senecio glabellus) were in mass as you drove over the wetland elevated highway just before the Stockton turn off. They were in the ditches, and along the road to Bryant's Landing. They were in the Florida Swamps two weeks ago. They really stand out, this early in the year. I finally got a leaf and found it in a picture book, because I am not eager to key out an Asteraceae.
Back to Bryant's Landing. On the river, there are Black Chokeberry (Aronia melanocarpa) along the edges, very showy. The color was nice along Douglas Lake. Bright green of the Bald Cypress leaves, yellow catkins with tiny rose colored leaves coming out on some unknown tree. The backdrop of the winter backdrop of tree trunks coming out of the water.
The highlight of this time of year, is the bluff just upriver from the landing. You must go into the creek just upriver from the bluff. It is full of Pink Honeysuckle Azalea (Azalea arborescens). It is prime right now. We missed this two years, one year ago. There is a lot of Pink Honeysuckle Azalea in that little section. We continued to the bluff. We got up close. The Pink Honeysuckle Azalea still have buds, so it still has another week of glory. Then it will trade places with the Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia), still in bud, for the glory position. Yellow Jasmine (Gelsemium sempervirens), Red Honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens), Crossvine (Bignonia capreolata), Blackberry (Rhus sp.), Sparkleberry (Vaccinium arboreum), White Violets (Viola primulifolia) along the bottom of the bluff next to the waterline, Shadbush (Amelanchier arborea), and Sweetleaf (Symplocos tinctoria). Look these up in your flower picture book before you arrive at Bryant's Landing, so you appear to be the botanical genius to your canoe buddies.
MIND FODDER (A DISCOMBUBALATED TRIP REPORT)
by Gary Worob
Eight ...I guess of us paddled through the enchanted forest on Sunday...I guess. Couldn't care less what day or month it was on a perfect day....had to think about how many there were and were not....three hours in the woods, I guess....who cares? What is this about time and white people? Aren't we all on the same journey through space at a 1,000 miles per hour? The pope finally died, and I was thinking the mafia had lots of bets on the exact time.
And, who cares when you are in such a place? Gas prices soaring ...who cares anymore? Just let me put the blade in one more time and experience this bit of solitude and solace. Rummaging through the mind for nothing to say and ...who cares? Eight of us telling lies in the middle of truth....building a cabin in this pristine wilderness and then Bob says, "Wait till you see the next house boat, one hundred feet long, twenty four feet wide with wrap around porch"...and a for sale sign...oh my! Have to go back and put up or shut up. Where would I put this and would it be the new club house or do I buy a tug boat and just cruise on down?.....see you on the return trip.
Thinking for a bit that I am in Pennsylvania with all the mountain laurel in bloom and wild azaleas screaming those colors and smells. All of us smiling and thinking, who cares and what day is it? Bob collecting lots of points for this trip. Paddling through an underwater village. Is this Asia? 17 inches of rain is obvious when you are paddling under someone's house and hope the electricity is shut off and don't grab any wires. Stop for a break and buy a candy bar and sit on the bank, looking at a perfect day and not caring about the twenty or so houses only attainable by boat and we are paddling through time warps and realities gone crazy. Glad the storm is well over and lets go on, these people chose this life style and no pump in the world could bail this flooded plain.
More azaleas and steep banks covered with mountain laurel and more wonderful smells ...no one needing to talk, just be awed at the rites of spring...take this picture in your mind...greens, reds, yellow asters and pinks and wafting of plumage of god. I think I see the pope smiling, saying "I see all this too, now that I am at peace". Martha Stewart standing on the side, with her paint brush and denim shirt, smiling....the cover of her new edition, all the time in prison thinking this is the reality we need to get back to....put your hands in the good earth and smell the richness....
And then, the finish of this great trip and we load up the boats and remember that it is Sunday and tomorrow someone will be working......gas prices soaring...When is the next paddle? Not soon enough.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Rice Creek to Jug Lake (Fisher Island) platform
Saturday, March 19, 2005 brint.adams@us.army.mil
Bob, Paul, Rick and I met at Rice Creek Landing, north of Stockton, at 4:00 PM, for a leisurely paddle out to the Jug Lake platform for dinner and overnight camping. The afternoon was beautiful, with clear skies, 75 degrees, no wind and a fairly high water level. We took the direct route out to Briar Lake, took the cut-through to Tensaw River, turned left alongside Larry Island, cut over to Bayou Jessamine and took the right turn into Jug Lake.
At this time of day, we found very little current flow on the Tensaw or Jessamine, which suited us just fine. I had already done a workout paddle early that morning and the others were more interested in the ambience of the moment than when we arrived.
Along the way, we saw many Maples in full blood red color and beautiful new green growth bursting from the Cypress lining our way. The mullet were jumping and we heard what we thought were deer rustling through the woods. A new experience for me was to see the many flocks of Little Blue Herons and White Ibis heading to roost for the night. There were dozens who just kept coming, the Herons quietly, but the Ibis making noticeable wing noise.
We arrived at the platform by 6:00 PM, unloaded and started preparations for our evening feast. This wasn't typical freeze-dried trail food, as we had a huge fresh vegetable and lettuce salad, garlic french bread and a large pot of fresh shrimp boiled with sausage, sweet corn and fresh whole garlic. The bugs didn't have a chance with our breath, spread around while telling tall tales. Even with my appetite, we couldn't finish all of the shrimp.
The evening was perfect, with a half moon shining brightly in the still air. Close by, Bard Owls called to us all night, while we followed the sounds of coon hounds in the distance, chasing and treeing their prey.
Sometime after retiring to sleeping bags on the open deck, I awoke and jumped a foot in the air, to the sound of a large splash. Disoriented from sleep, I looked around to see if an alligator was nearby, and then saw Paul pop up out of the water and back onto the platform. He had taken an extra step, when approaching the rear side next to the cooking table, and found out the water level is about chest deep and the bottom is soft and muddy. Unfortunately, he grabbed the edge of the securely fastened table, which scraped some large hunks of flesh off of the fingers on his left hand. After climbing out of the cold water and getting dried off, we cleaned and applied antiseptic to the mangled mess of a hand.
Since Bob slept through all of the excitement, when morning came and while eating breakfast, we retold and enhanced the story at Paul's expense, while his hand throbbed in pain. Suggestions were made Paul was sleepwalking, taking a moonlight skinnydip or sleeping with the fishes.
We broke camp early, heading straight back to Rice Creek. The morning was again beautiful, the water in Jug Lake like glass. On our way out, the Herons and Ibis were flying overhead, back to their day feeding spots. The current on Bayou Jessamine was a little stronger and following on the way out, as we enjoyed the morning light slicing through the canopy.
As we arrived at the landing and were loading up, a Birmingham family drove up, who had reservations for Sunday night on the same platform. They asked for route information and day paddle opportunities. It is great to see use of the platforms are starting to gain some interest, which hopefully will continue to grow, as people become aware of, and familiar with, the public assets we have available for our use.
Saturday, March 19, 2005 brint.adams@us.army.mil
Bob, Paul, Rick and I met at Rice Creek Landing, north of Stockton, at 4:00 PM, for a leisurely paddle out to the Jug Lake platform for dinner and overnight camping. The afternoon was beautiful, with clear skies, 75 degrees, no wind and a fairly high water level. We took the direct route out to Briar Lake, took the cut-through to Tensaw River, turned left alongside Larry Island, cut over to Bayou Jessamine and took the right turn into Jug Lake.
At this time of day, we found very little current flow on the Tensaw or Jessamine, which suited us just fine. I had already done a workout paddle early that morning and the others were more interested in the ambience of the moment than when we arrived.
Along the way, we saw many Maples in full blood red color and beautiful new green growth bursting from the Cypress lining our way. The mullet were jumping and we heard what we thought were deer rustling through the woods. A new experience for me was to see the many flocks of Little Blue Herons and White Ibis heading to roost for the night. There were dozens who just kept coming, the Herons quietly, but the Ibis making noticeable wing noise.
We arrived at the platform by 6:00 PM, unloaded and started preparations for our evening feast. This wasn't typical freeze-dried trail food, as we had a huge fresh vegetable and lettuce salad, garlic french bread and a large pot of fresh shrimp boiled with sausage, sweet corn and fresh whole garlic. The bugs didn't have a chance with our breath, spread around while telling tall tales. Even with my appetite, we couldn't finish all of the shrimp.
The evening was perfect, with a half moon shining brightly in the still air. Close by, Bard Owls called to us all night, while we followed the sounds of coon hounds in the distance, chasing and treeing their prey.
Sometime after retiring to sleeping bags on the open deck, I awoke and jumped a foot in the air, to the sound of a large splash. Disoriented from sleep, I looked around to see if an alligator was nearby, and then saw Paul pop up out of the water and back onto the platform. He had taken an extra step, when approaching the rear side next to the cooking table, and found out the water level is about chest deep and the bottom is soft and muddy. Unfortunately, he grabbed the edge of the securely fastened table, which scraped some large hunks of flesh off of the fingers on his left hand. After climbing out of the cold water and getting dried off, we cleaned and applied antiseptic to the mangled mess of a hand.
Since Bob slept through all of the excitement, when morning came and while eating breakfast, we retold and enhanced the story at Paul's expense, while his hand throbbed in pain. Suggestions were made Paul was sleepwalking, taking a moonlight skinnydip or sleeping with the fishes.
We broke camp early, heading straight back to Rice Creek. The morning was again beautiful, the water in Jug Lake like glass. On our way out, the Herons and Ibis were flying overhead, back to their day feeding spots. The current on Bayou Jessamine was a little stronger and following on the way out, as we enjoyed the morning light slicing through the canopy.
As we arrived at the landing and were loading up, a Birmingham family drove up, who had reservations for Sunday night on the same platform. They asked for route information and day paddle opportunities. It is great to see use of the platforms are starting to gain some interest, which hopefully will continue to grow, as people become aware of, and familiar with, the public assets we have available for our use.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Rice Creek to Big Cypress to Jug Lake
March 5, 2005
by Gary Worob
Lots of people were out playing golf on such a beautiful day. Some were even playing a foursome. Four of us got together at the Stagecoach and had a great foursome.
We paddled on very placid waters from Rice Creek Landing, exploring new places for some of us and seeing lots of signs of spring. The cypress were just starting to open new leaves, as were the red maples. We saw a huge flock of pelicans, who were courteous enough to miss me with a fuselage of unwanted greetings. We saw lots of hawks and heard them screaming the sounds of spring, while scouting out the best hunting places. Best of all, we found marker number 5 on Bayou Jessamine, towards Jug Lake, and waded through calf-deep water to the giant Cypress, that truly was a grand sight.
The weather was in the mid to upper 70's, making for a perfect paddle from Rice Creek to Jug Lake and there was very little wind. What we did encounter, was a continuous change of currents and flow of water, to make it hard to predict whether we would be paddling upstream or down. Our trip leader, Tom Meyer, gave us lots of history, biology and botany lessons along the way and even a backwards entry into Jug Lake, from the platform, while in his kayak. My good friend Don, was visiting from Ohio, and had never paddled in the Delta. His comments were the same as mine, that it is truly a unique and wondrous adventure, but better done with someone who knows the way. We took about 5 hours to paddle the eight or so miles and had a very leisurely day, including shared lunch on the Jug Lake platform.
Don and I explored Blakeley State Park afterwards, and then went to dinner at Dave's Catfish House and had a great dinner. It was another perfect day in paradise!
March 5, 2005
by Gary Worob
Lots of people were out playing golf on such a beautiful day. Some were even playing a foursome. Four of us got together at the Stagecoach and had a great foursome.
We paddled on very placid waters from Rice Creek Landing, exploring new places for some of us and seeing lots of signs of spring. The cypress were just starting to open new leaves, as were the red maples. We saw a huge flock of pelicans, who were courteous enough to miss me with a fuselage of unwanted greetings. We saw lots of hawks and heard them screaming the sounds of spring, while scouting out the best hunting places. Best of all, we found marker number 5 on Bayou Jessamine, towards Jug Lake, and waded through calf-deep water to the giant Cypress, that truly was a grand sight.
The weather was in the mid to upper 70's, making for a perfect paddle from Rice Creek to Jug Lake and there was very little wind. What we did encounter, was a continuous change of currents and flow of water, to make it hard to predict whether we would be paddling upstream or down. Our trip leader, Tom Meyer, gave us lots of history, biology and botany lessons along the way and even a backwards entry into Jug Lake, from the platform, while in his kayak. My good friend Don, was visiting from Ohio, and had never paddled in the Delta. His comments were the same as mine, that it is truly a unique and wondrous adventure, but better done with someone who knows the way. We took about 5 hours to paddle the eight or so miles and had a very leisurely day, including shared lunch on the Jug Lake platform.
Don and I explored Blakeley State Park afterwards, and then went to dinner at Dave's Catfish House and had a great dinner. It was another perfect day in paradise!
Econfina Creek
Saturday, February 26, 2005
brint.adams@us.army.mil
Linda and I left Spanish Fort Friday afternoon and drove east on I-10 into Florida to exit 85. We turned south on Hwy. 331, traveled 13.8 miles to Freeport and turned east on Hwy. 20. After passing through Bruce (Hwy. 81), Ebro (Hwy. 79) and past Crystal Lake (Hwy.77), we continued east on Hwy. 20 for several miles until we crossed Econfina Creek. As we continued up the next hill, the next crossroads was Blue Springs Rd to the right and Padgett Drive to the left. Another mile further, Blue Springs Rd also turns to the left (north), which we took and carefully made our way for 1.5 miles on the loose sandy surface. We came to two gates on the left, letting us into the Blue Springs campground.
This is a beautiful site capable of handling 25 campers. After a 2.5 hour drive, we arrived near dusk, and set up our tent. We found Gary, Tom, Tony, Fritz & Paula and others already set up with Bob, Carl, Charlene and Wendy and Billy to arrive later that night. We had a nice campfire, clear sky, and song with Tony's guitar accompaniment, to close out a beautiful evening.
In the morning, after a nice bike ride exploring the dirt roads in the area, we all left for our put-in on the southwest side of the bridge over Econfina Creek. We started out heading upstream against a moderate current, passing the pontoon landing on the north side of the bridge and Pitts Springs along the west bank. We continued upstream and took the next left turn into a beautiful spring tributary. The water immediately cleared up to a beautiful blue or aqua color with white sand bottom covered with bits of sparkly shell. There were dozens of large 6" tadpoles sitting on the bottom or swimming around, as well as numerous small fish. We found our way to the end of the spring, where we circled a small island like riding a carousel.
Upon exiting the spring, continued north for another 0.5 miles, and took the next left up into Williford Springs. We stopped here for lunch, while several adventurous paddlers donned fins and snorkles, to dive down to the cave entrance about 13' below the surface, where the crystal clear spring water was bubbling from.
Our trip back downstream was, of course, considerably quicker, so we continued past our put-in, to visit two more springs about 0.5 miles downstream below the bridge. One of the springs had a large PVC pipe pumping water directly out of the bubbling source, which we were told is the source for Coca Cola's Aquafina bottled water.
After taking out of Econfina, we drove back to the campground, where Linda and I put in for a short paddle around Blue Springs and out to the entrance to Econfina Creek. This is another beautiful springs area teaming with fish, water birds and plantlife.
Late in the afternoon, Gary, Tom, Billy and others set up a sweat lodge, which later would accomodate eight participants. We went out and collected more firewood, cut it up and stoked the fire to begin heating the flat, round river slicks Tom brought to heat up the sweat lodge. When all was ready, eight of us entered, while we had a designated rock provider on the outside, start to hand in the red-hot rocks on the end of spade. It did not take long, and we soon were all well heated up and drinking from our water bottles. All of a sudden, Tom broke the silence with a scream that shook the trees, echoed around the springs and made several people jump right off their towels. He continued with a spirited Indian chant that added to the eeriness of the experience.
After about 20 minutes, we all filed out of the lodge and proceeded to jump into the spring to complete the sweat lodge experience. We then joined the others around the campfire for a great feast and continued festivities into the night. Carl and Tom brought several beautiful drums, which were enthusiastically beat and pounded for hours, while others shook rattles and I took a long turn blowing on a 3' long wooden digeridoo, making sounds like a wild female water buffalo in heat. We had a great time, and while the crowd around the fire dwindled down to only a few, we finally all went off to our tents, leaving Tom snoring by the fire.
In the morning, we awoke to light rain, which appeared to be socked in for several hours. Linda and I decided to break camp and not try to wait it out. He headed out by 8:00 AM, on our way back to Spanish Fort. Along the way, we took a little detour to see the Seven Runs area, we had planned to paddle that day. Even in the rain, it was a beautiful, flooded Cypress forest, where we almost decided to put in and explore for awhile. But, clearer heads prevailed, so we continued back home after a very enjoyable weekend of paddling, camping and cameraderie.
ECONFINA CREEK/HOT ROCKS/ HOT LICKS
by Gary Worob
When do one and one make more than two? When you combine the unlimited talents of Brint and Linda, into the dynamic duo of entertainment. Certainly the kumbaya king and queen of our camping trip on Econfina.
The neighborhood was rocking Saturday night in more ways than one. Tom got "hot rocks" going for the great sweat lodge, that he brought and we filled it full of sweaty bodies, song and chants to start the festivities off to a rolling boil. It was an easy dash to the springs to rinse off and be "renewed" for the great feast that followed.
Hard to believe that such great foods could appear in the middle of the woods and harder to believe that anything was left, it was so good. But what followed was an amazing rockfest, started by Carl and progressed to the "Rockette" version of the Lind-Y., courtesy of our own favorite belle de la nuite-Linda. She was creating some of the most innovative sounds and limericks I ever heard.
No sense in talking about the body count, cause no one even dared, but two were huddled by the campfire, for part of the night and more will try to figure out how they made it to their campsites or vans....I, for one, can't remember and I, for sure, never touched a drop. I swear to it!
As for the paddle, it was just as wonderful as any could be, with 16 of us exploring the beautiful springs and some of us donning snorkeling gear and diving to the cave in Williford Spring. Blue Springs Campground is part of the Northwest Florida Water Management District, and they do a wonderful job of keeping a great campsite, right on a series of beautiful pristine springs. We also discovered a series of sink holes in the woods and speculated about the creation of the area, and the changes that time was making in front of us.
The actual paddle was barely 4 miles, if that; but the visuals at Econfina Creek are always wonderful and the chance to dive into a beautiful and powerful spring is worth the drive. I always have to use a big rock to be able to go down to the entry of a 175' lateral underwater cave.
I had another unexpected venture, when Bob Andrews and I started out in little canoes, about an hour before sweat lodge time, through the Blue Springs and out into the Econfina Creek. I was unable to navigate the creek a couple years ago, due to excessive downed big trees. Bob asked if I wanted to try to go the 4-5 miles and have him pick me up. No hesitation and soon I had one of the best slalom paddling courses I ever experienced. It was just me and the many deer along the banks, ducks that took off when I got near, and I raced the course as if it were a real slalom race. It was great fun and I planned to have most everyone do it early in the morning before the next paddle at Seven Runs Creek, but the heavy rains came and we all packed up and went our ways.
We ran into George and Mackenzie on the way home and Bob and George paddled Seven Runs Creek into the great cypress forest. I went home after two weeks on the road having camped along and explored many rivers along the way in Florida. I swam with the manatees, dove with the cormorants, tickled an alligator and saw the amazing sights of some of the great rivers and springs in Florida, and was anxious to be back in Fairhope and rest up for the next great adventure.
The diversity in this club is apparent and the harmony is sublime.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
brint.adams@us.army.mil
Linda and I left Spanish Fort Friday afternoon and drove east on I-10 into Florida to exit 85. We turned south on Hwy. 331, traveled 13.8 miles to Freeport and turned east on Hwy. 20. After passing through Bruce (Hwy. 81), Ebro (Hwy. 79) and past Crystal Lake (Hwy.77), we continued east on Hwy. 20 for several miles until we crossed Econfina Creek. As we continued up the next hill, the next crossroads was Blue Springs Rd to the right and Padgett Drive to the left. Another mile further, Blue Springs Rd also turns to the left (north), which we took and carefully made our way for 1.5 miles on the loose sandy surface. We came to two gates on the left, letting us into the Blue Springs campground.
This is a beautiful site capable of handling 25 campers. After a 2.5 hour drive, we arrived near dusk, and set up our tent. We found Gary, Tom, Tony, Fritz & Paula and others already set up with Bob, Carl, Charlene and Wendy and Billy to arrive later that night. We had a nice campfire, clear sky, and song with Tony's guitar accompaniment, to close out a beautiful evening.
In the morning, after a nice bike ride exploring the dirt roads in the area, we all left for our put-in on the southwest side of the bridge over Econfina Creek. We started out heading upstream against a moderate current, passing the pontoon landing on the north side of the bridge and Pitts Springs along the west bank. We continued upstream and took the next left turn into a beautiful spring tributary. The water immediately cleared up to a beautiful blue or aqua color with white sand bottom covered with bits of sparkly shell. There were dozens of large 6" tadpoles sitting on the bottom or swimming around, as well as numerous small fish. We found our way to the end of the spring, where we circled a small island like riding a carousel.
Upon exiting the spring, continued north for another 0.5 miles, and took the next left up into Williford Springs. We stopped here for lunch, while several adventurous paddlers donned fins and snorkles, to dive down to the cave entrance about 13' below the surface, where the crystal clear spring water was bubbling from.
Our trip back downstream was, of course, considerably quicker, so we continued past our put-in, to visit two more springs about 0.5 miles downstream below the bridge. One of the springs had a large PVC pipe pumping water directly out of the bubbling source, which we were told is the source for Coca Cola's Aquafina bottled water.
After taking out of Econfina, we drove back to the campground, where Linda and I put in for a short paddle around Blue Springs and out to the entrance to Econfina Creek. This is another beautiful springs area teaming with fish, water birds and plantlife.
Late in the afternoon, Gary, Tom, Billy and others set up a sweat lodge, which later would accomodate eight participants. We went out and collected more firewood, cut it up and stoked the fire to begin heating the flat, round river slicks Tom brought to heat up the sweat lodge. When all was ready, eight of us entered, while we had a designated rock provider on the outside, start to hand in the red-hot rocks on the end of spade. It did not take long, and we soon were all well heated up and drinking from our water bottles. All of a sudden, Tom broke the silence with a scream that shook the trees, echoed around the springs and made several people jump right off their towels. He continued with a spirited Indian chant that added to the eeriness of the experience.
After about 20 minutes, we all filed out of the lodge and proceeded to jump into the spring to complete the sweat lodge experience. We then joined the others around the campfire for a great feast and continued festivities into the night. Carl and Tom brought several beautiful drums, which were enthusiastically beat and pounded for hours, while others shook rattles and I took a long turn blowing on a 3' long wooden digeridoo, making sounds like a wild female water buffalo in heat. We had a great time, and while the crowd around the fire dwindled down to only a few, we finally all went off to our tents, leaving Tom snoring by the fire.
In the morning, we awoke to light rain, which appeared to be socked in for several hours. Linda and I decided to break camp and not try to wait it out. He headed out by 8:00 AM, on our way back to Spanish Fort. Along the way, we took a little detour to see the Seven Runs area, we had planned to paddle that day. Even in the rain, it was a beautiful, flooded Cypress forest, where we almost decided to put in and explore for awhile. But, clearer heads prevailed, so we continued back home after a very enjoyable weekend of paddling, camping and cameraderie.
ECONFINA CREEK/HOT ROCKS/ HOT LICKS
by Gary Worob
When do one and one make more than two? When you combine the unlimited talents of Brint and Linda, into the dynamic duo of entertainment. Certainly the kumbaya king and queen of our camping trip on Econfina.
The neighborhood was rocking Saturday night in more ways than one. Tom got "hot rocks" going for the great sweat lodge, that he brought and we filled it full of sweaty bodies, song and chants to start the festivities off to a rolling boil. It was an easy dash to the springs to rinse off and be "renewed" for the great feast that followed.
Hard to believe that such great foods could appear in the middle of the woods and harder to believe that anything was left, it was so good. But what followed was an amazing rockfest, started by Carl and progressed to the "Rockette" version of the Lind-Y., courtesy of our own favorite belle de la nuite-Linda. She was creating some of the most innovative sounds and limericks I ever heard.
No sense in talking about the body count, cause no one even dared, but two were huddled by the campfire, for part of the night and more will try to figure out how they made it to their campsites or vans....I, for one, can't remember and I, for sure, never touched a drop. I swear to it!
As for the paddle, it was just as wonderful as any could be, with 16 of us exploring the beautiful springs and some of us donning snorkeling gear and diving to the cave in Williford Spring. Blue Springs Campground is part of the Northwest Florida Water Management District, and they do a wonderful job of keeping a great campsite, right on a series of beautiful pristine springs. We also discovered a series of sink holes in the woods and speculated about the creation of the area, and the changes that time was making in front of us.
The actual paddle was barely 4 miles, if that; but the visuals at Econfina Creek are always wonderful and the chance to dive into a beautiful and powerful spring is worth the drive. I always have to use a big rock to be able to go down to the entry of a 175' lateral underwater cave.
I had another unexpected venture, when Bob Andrews and I started out in little canoes, about an hour before sweat lodge time, through the Blue Springs and out into the Econfina Creek. I was unable to navigate the creek a couple years ago, due to excessive downed big trees. Bob asked if I wanted to try to go the 4-5 miles and have him pick me up. No hesitation and soon I had one of the best slalom paddling courses I ever experienced. It was just me and the many deer along the banks, ducks that took off when I got near, and I raced the course as if it were a real slalom race. It was great fun and I planned to have most everyone do it early in the morning before the next paddle at Seven Runs Creek, but the heavy rains came and we all packed up and went our ways.
We ran into George and Mackenzie on the way home and Bob and George paddled Seven Runs Creek into the great cypress forest. I went home after two weeks on the road having camped along and explored many rivers along the way in Florida. I swam with the manatees, dove with the cormorants, tickled an alligator and saw the amazing sights of some of the great rivers and springs in Florida, and was anxious to be back in Fairhope and rest up for the next great adventure.
The diversity in this club is apparent and the harmony is sublime.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Two Rivers Point/Mound Island land-based campsite
Feb. 26th and 27th, 2005
by Brian Westcott
My brother and I left Gadsden Saturday morning, Feb. 26th, around 8:00 AM. We parked at Rice Creek Landing and unloaded the truck around 12:30 PM. According to the Bartram Trail web site, the optimum water level was about 15'-18', while we found it was about 28 ft and hazardous, when we went. Afraid we would run out of daylight following the designated Route 1, we decided to paddle the route in reverse (from Rice Creek to Bayou Jessamine, to Bottle Creek, to Tensaw River, to the designated camp site. We had to paddle up Jessamine in a moderate current and then up Bottle Creek and the Tensaw River, upstream in a strong current which was tough and draining.
We were not too impressed with the camping area which looked like a big summer hangout with common beerfest debris. At the campsite, a fisherman in a jonboat, came by and warned us of a potentially dangerous 18 foot alligator on Bottle Creek, which is where we were going again in the AM. We woke up to RAIN!!! The river and creeks had raised another 2-4 inches!!!!! We packed up in the rain and shoved off. The landing area was not kayak friendly.
We decided to follow the same route we used on the previous day. Thinking the paddle down river/creek/bayou was an advantage, proved to be a bit risky and VERY tricky. You can imagine how the water can control these long boats- 14' & 16' long. So, we checked out the Indian Mounds on Mound Island, which was absolutely worth the entire messy day 2. It was really unreal!!!! Later, we read there are 18 mounds on that island, many of which we saw. We climbed to the top of the big one (45-50 ft tall). The place was really majestic.
We eventually started our strenuous paddle back up Bottle Creek, to get back to Bayou Jessamine. We were relieved to reach the mouth of Jessamine, and thought the rest of the trip would be fast and relaxing. NOT!!!!! About 200 hundred yards in, Chris, my brother, capsized near a stump in chest deep water. He ruined his professional grade $1500 digital camera, although his memory card still works. That incident was a miserable experience for both of us. It was very difficult for him getting back in his boat. Thank God, he bought a bilge pump recently. It was the only way to get the water out.
The rest of the trip was miserable, because we couldn't maneuver very well, due to the down stream current and all of the STRAINERS!!!!!!!! It was tough and stressful. We had to portage once around a Z-bend, with multiple strainers. Doing that was a real pain!!!! When we reached the Tensaw River, near Larry Island, I wanted to smile and think the rest of the way was going to be easy, but I was afraid to assume anything more, until we saw the truck.
We did make it back to the truck, but had to drive back to Gadsden, in pouring rain all the way. Day 2 was not the best time we have had, but neither of us regret the trip down there. The first day, camping with the barred owls, and the Indian Mounds, were certainly the pay off.
Your comments, ideas, and advice are welcome. Please email me at bwestcott@gcs.k12.al.us.
Feb. 26th and 27th, 2005
by Brian Westcott
My brother and I left Gadsden Saturday morning, Feb. 26th, around 8:00 AM. We parked at Rice Creek Landing and unloaded the truck around 12:30 PM. According to the Bartram Trail web site, the optimum water level was about 15'-18', while we found it was about 28 ft and hazardous, when we went. Afraid we would run out of daylight following the designated Route 1, we decided to paddle the route in reverse (from Rice Creek to Bayou Jessamine, to Bottle Creek, to Tensaw River, to the designated camp site. We had to paddle up Jessamine in a moderate current and then up Bottle Creek and the Tensaw River, upstream in a strong current which was tough and draining.
We were not too impressed with the camping area which looked like a big summer hangout with common beerfest debris. At the campsite, a fisherman in a jonboat, came by and warned us of a potentially dangerous 18 foot alligator on Bottle Creek, which is where we were going again in the AM. We woke up to RAIN!!! The river and creeks had raised another 2-4 inches!!!!! We packed up in the rain and shoved off. The landing area was not kayak friendly.
We decided to follow the same route we used on the previous day. Thinking the paddle down river/creek/bayou was an advantage, proved to be a bit risky and VERY tricky. You can imagine how the water can control these long boats- 14' & 16' long. So, we checked out the Indian Mounds on Mound Island, which was absolutely worth the entire messy day 2. It was really unreal!!!! Later, we read there are 18 mounds on that island, many of which we saw. We climbed to the top of the big one (45-50 ft tall). The place was really majestic.
We eventually started our strenuous paddle back up Bottle Creek, to get back to Bayou Jessamine. We were relieved to reach the mouth of Jessamine, and thought the rest of the trip would be fast and relaxing. NOT!!!!! About 200 hundred yards in, Chris, my brother, capsized near a stump in chest deep water. He ruined his professional grade $1500 digital camera, although his memory card still works. That incident was a miserable experience for both of us. It was very difficult for him getting back in his boat. Thank God, he bought a bilge pump recently. It was the only way to get the water out.
The rest of the trip was miserable, because we couldn't maneuver very well, due to the down stream current and all of the STRAINERS!!!!!!!! It was tough and stressful. We had to portage once around a Z-bend, with multiple strainers. Doing that was a real pain!!!! When we reached the Tensaw River, near Larry Island, I wanted to smile and think the rest of the way was going to be easy, but I was afraid to assume anything more, until we saw the truck.
We did make it back to the truck, but had to drive back to Gadsden, in pouring rain all the way. Day 2 was not the best time we have had, but neither of us regret the trip down there. The first day, camping with the barred owls, and the Indian Mounds, were certainly the pay off.
Your comments, ideas, and advice are welcome. Please email me at bwestcott@gcs.k12.al.us.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Bartram Canoe Trail
by Larry McDuff
February 11-13, 2005
Last weekend, several members of the Mobile Bay Canoe and Kayak Club paddled for three days in the Mobile Delta, visiting all the floating platforms, recently installed for camping by the Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources.
We left two cars at Rice Creek Landing near Stockton, then traveled north to Hubbard's Landing on Tensaw Lake. With water levels higher than normal, we had a pull against the current to Big Beaver Creek. Keeping left at every junction, we navigated a maze of intersecting waterways to the northernmost platform behind Canal Island.
Unloading the lawn chairs from my canoe, we settled in for an evening of luxurious camping on the spacious platform, which is partially covered in case of rain. After watching a beautiful sunset through the trees, we dined on salads served by Bob and angel-hair pasta with stir-fried vegetables cooked by Juli.
The rest of the evening was spent listening to a chorus of barred owls, watching the new moon set, and looking for shooting stars.
The next morning we backtracked around Canal Island into Napp Lake, followed by a long westward paddle through Stiggins Lake. The high waters, flowing swiftly through Minnow Slough, provided the most challenging paddling of the trip, but we soon reached the Tensaw River and an easy downstream ride.
Just past Middle Creek, we stopped at a designated land campsite for a snack, then proceeded down river to a right turn on Bottle Creek, to visit the large Indian mound on Mound Island. Historical markers designate the beginning and end of the trail to the mound. Trees downed by Hurricane Ivan slowed our progress, but we soon reached the mound and climbed to the top for lunch. Another kayak club group, on a day trip out of Rice Creek, joined us there.
Backtracking up Bottle Creek, we turned right into Bayou Jessamine, beginning a swift downstream run interrupted by one short portage around a fallen tree. We turned left into Jug Lake, following it to the other end and our platform for the night. Arriving early, we had plenty of time for reading. In the warm sunshine, I managed a quick bath in the cool waters of Jug Lake.
After Bob's customary salad I served vegetarian chili made with Ann's recipe. Everyone seemed impressed with my cooking.
Sunday, we left Jug Lake and continued downstream on Bayou Jessamine to Tensaw Lake, which we followed north to Dead Lake Island. The last two platforms are located across from each other on a small slough to the left, just past Bayou Tallapoosa. Nine people from Mobile had spent Saturday night there and about to leave when we arrived.
We paddled south to Rice Creek on the east side of Richardson Island, where we saw a mink playing beside the water. Bird sightings included wood ducks, hooded mergansers, black and turkey vultures, double crested cormorants, blue herons, red-tailed hawks, laughing gulls, Foster's terns, and belted kingfishers.
The platforms are available for a fee of $20 a night to any group touring the Delta by canoe or kayak. For maps and reservations visit the Bartram web site at www.outdooralabama.com/outdoor-adventures/bartram. For canoe rentals, outfitting, and shuttle service contact Bob at Sunshine Canoes, 344-8664.
Kayak club trips are open to everyone. For information visit the club's web site at www.baykayaker.blogspot.com.
by Larry McDuff
February 11-13, 2005
Last weekend, several members of the Mobile Bay Canoe and Kayak Club paddled for three days in the Mobile Delta, visiting all the floating platforms, recently installed for camping by the Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources.
We left two cars at Rice Creek Landing near Stockton, then traveled north to Hubbard's Landing on Tensaw Lake. With water levels higher than normal, we had a pull against the current to Big Beaver Creek. Keeping left at every junction, we navigated a maze of intersecting waterways to the northernmost platform behind Canal Island.
Unloading the lawn chairs from my canoe, we settled in for an evening of luxurious camping on the spacious platform, which is partially covered in case of rain. After watching a beautiful sunset through the trees, we dined on salads served by Bob and angel-hair pasta with stir-fried vegetables cooked by Juli.
The rest of the evening was spent listening to a chorus of barred owls, watching the new moon set, and looking for shooting stars.
The next morning we backtracked around Canal Island into Napp Lake, followed by a long westward paddle through Stiggins Lake. The high waters, flowing swiftly through Minnow Slough, provided the most challenging paddling of the trip, but we soon reached the Tensaw River and an easy downstream ride.
Just past Middle Creek, we stopped at a designated land campsite for a snack, then proceeded down river to a right turn on Bottle Creek, to visit the large Indian mound on Mound Island. Historical markers designate the beginning and end of the trail to the mound. Trees downed by Hurricane Ivan slowed our progress, but we soon reached the mound and climbed to the top for lunch. Another kayak club group, on a day trip out of Rice Creek, joined us there.
Backtracking up Bottle Creek, we turned right into Bayou Jessamine, beginning a swift downstream run interrupted by one short portage around a fallen tree. We turned left into Jug Lake, following it to the other end and our platform for the night. Arriving early, we had plenty of time for reading. In the warm sunshine, I managed a quick bath in the cool waters of Jug Lake.
After Bob's customary salad I served vegetarian chili made with Ann's recipe. Everyone seemed impressed with my cooking.
Sunday, we left Jug Lake and continued downstream on Bayou Jessamine to Tensaw Lake, which we followed north to Dead Lake Island. The last two platforms are located across from each other on a small slough to the left, just past Bayou Tallapoosa. Nine people from Mobile had spent Saturday night there and about to leave when we arrived.
We paddled south to Rice Creek on the east side of Richardson Island, where we saw a mink playing beside the water. Bird sightings included wood ducks, hooded mergansers, black and turkey vultures, double crested cormorants, blue herons, red-tailed hawks, laughing gulls, Foster's terns, and belted kingfishers.
The platforms are available for a fee of $20 a night to any group touring the Delta by canoe or kayak. For maps and reservations visit the Bartram web site at www.outdooralabama.com/outdoor-adventures/bartram. For canoe rentals, outfitting, and shuttle service contact Bob at Sunshine Canoes, 344-8664.
Kayak club trips are open to everyone. For information visit the club's web site at www.baykayaker.blogspot.com.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Monday, January 17, 2005
Canal Island Platform
Sunday, January 16, 2005 by Brint Adams
On a beautiful, sunny, 60 degree afternoon, seven paddlers in six boats pushed off from Hubbard's Landing toward the Mobile Tensaw Delta's northernmost covered paddlers platform, placed last year by the State of Alabama. We traveled north on I-65 to exit 31 and turned north on Hwy. 225 to Stockton. After meeting at The Stagecoach Cafe, we continued north on Hwy. 59 for 5.5 miles and turned left on CR 98 for 3.5 miles to Hubbard's Landing.
Bob, Fritz, Gary, Tom, Rich, Carol and I headed from the boat launch north on Tensaw Lake against the moderate current and northerly breeze at 12:25 PM. After about three miles, we took a left fork on Big Beaver Creek, following about five s-curves for 1.5 miles. We passed Bear Creek on the right where we saw numerous abandoned fish/hunting camp structures. Just ahead on the left, we turned down Little Lake to the two entrances around Canal Island on the left. The first entrance is narrow and not easily recognized. Most of our group went down to the next entrance left and paddled counter-clockwise around Canal Island to the platform. There were a few trees down, but did not present any problems getting around them.
The platform is in a nicely protected area, where few powerboats would be tempted to venture. The platform is built exactly the same as the other two locations behind Dead Lake Island and Jug Lake. We stopped for a breather, snack and hot mint tea before the return trip.
Along the way, we were fortunate to see a nice v-grouping of about twelve White Ibis in undulating flight over us as well as numerous Cormorants and Snowy Egrets.
The return was much faster, with the current and wind pushing us along. The total trip was just under ten miles, taking about three hours to paddle. This will be a nice trip during other seasons, with numerous streams close by to explore.
Sunday, January 16, 2005 by Brint Adams
On a beautiful, sunny, 60 degree afternoon, seven paddlers in six boats pushed off from Hubbard's Landing toward the Mobile Tensaw Delta's northernmost covered paddlers platform, placed last year by the State of Alabama. We traveled north on I-65 to exit 31 and turned north on Hwy. 225 to Stockton. After meeting at The Stagecoach Cafe, we continued north on Hwy. 59 for 5.5 miles and turned left on CR 98 for 3.5 miles to Hubbard's Landing.
Bob, Fritz, Gary, Tom, Rich, Carol and I headed from the boat launch north on Tensaw Lake against the moderate current and northerly breeze at 12:25 PM. After about three miles, we took a left fork on Big Beaver Creek, following about five s-curves for 1.5 miles. We passed Bear Creek on the right where we saw numerous abandoned fish/hunting camp structures. Just ahead on the left, we turned down Little Lake to the two entrances around Canal Island on the left. The first entrance is narrow and not easily recognized. Most of our group went down to the next entrance left and paddled counter-clockwise around Canal Island to the platform. There were a few trees down, but did not present any problems getting around them.
The platform is in a nicely protected area, where few powerboats would be tempted to venture. The platform is built exactly the same as the other two locations behind Dead Lake Island and Jug Lake. We stopped for a breather, snack and hot mint tea before the return trip.
Along the way, we were fortunate to see a nice v-grouping of about twelve White Ibis in undulating flight over us as well as numerous Cormorants and Snowy Egrets.
The return was much faster, with the current and wind pushing us along. The total trip was just under ten miles, taking about three hours to paddle. This will be a nice trip during other seasons, with numerous streams close by to explore.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
WHO COULD FARGO THIS TRIP?
(Good old boys vs. big boy paddle)
December 31, 2004
A travelogue to Fargo, GA by Gary Worob
I grew up in one of the toughest sections of Newark, New Jersey, in a time when neighbors looked out for each other and we, as kids, could roam and play without fear. We were loved and poor; we didn't start killing until we were teenagers; we had respect!
I didn't know what the term 'red neck' really meant, until I moved to Ohio, 19 years later, and walked into the Black Horse Tavern, unassuming and unaware of the pitfalls of being a college boy. Fortunately, I was fleet of foot and quick of wit and scooted my East coast butt out of there, without too much damage.
I got a quick lesson in "red-neckedness" in Fargo, Georgia, home of the Okefenokee and the world's largest collection of howling dogs, pickup trucks, red-necks and white bread. "We don't serve none of that fancy stuff here, (wholewheat/rye bread)." Fortunately for me, I love grits and cans of corn beef hash, and can survive two full days without fruit or vegetables. (I am tough!)
The place to go, if you want to hang out in a really cool red-neck town, is the "fillin statchun/food store", in Fargo. Gas and conversation cost the same and the vocabulary is quite remarkable. If I had not been a survival hunter and logger for years in British Columbia, I would have accepted that I was in a time warp. Now, I wish I owned a Ford truck dealership, smack dab in the middle of Georgia, and gave out dog cages, as a bonus for every four-wheeler that I could sell.
The truly amazing thing is the Gator Motel we stayed at, was on a total honor system. We did not ever see anyone connected with the motel. The rooms had our names on the doors, they were unlocked and we left a check and the key on the dresser, upon leaving. The rooms were very clean and the bed bugs were all friendly.
I don't have much to say about paddling, for two reasons: the atmosphere in Fargo was more interesting and I only paddled one day. If you want to get a feel for Fargo, watch the movie "Fargo", pretend it is the South and try to decide how many people can be fed into a woodchipper at one time.
It is an 800 mile round trip to Fargo, with two restaurants in town. One, the Suwanee River Cafe, was my favorite, cuz them folks waz friendly. The other, Karen's, was open to suggestions, if you could find her open, but don't ask for whole wheat bread, cuz white is what we serve. At Karen's, the little girl talking to her doll, is the only child on the planet, that has given her doll a first, middle and last name. What else is there to do, if you don't own a four-wheel drive pickup, set of howling dogs, lots of guns and chewin' tobacco??? I guess you could paddle or watch your spouse become a balloon, right in front of your eyes. Remember, no vegetables or fruit within 30 miles.
On the way back, we stopped at my favorite town along the way, Monticello, Florida. We got to watch three encephalopods discover how to eat fork-food without utensils, making for an overall complete understanding of the prehistoric rites of passage on another interesting Bob Andrews big boy trip. I have written a letter to the United Nations, recommending that when the @#&% hits the fan in New York, they consider Fargo, Georgia, as the new choice for all of the world diplomats to gather, especially with room rates as low as $29 for two or more.
Happy New Year.
(Good old boys vs. big boy paddle)
December 31, 2004
A travelogue to Fargo, GA by Gary Worob
I grew up in one of the toughest sections of Newark, New Jersey, in a time when neighbors looked out for each other and we, as kids, could roam and play without fear. We were loved and poor; we didn't start killing until we were teenagers; we had respect!
I didn't know what the term 'red neck' really meant, until I moved to Ohio, 19 years later, and walked into the Black Horse Tavern, unassuming and unaware of the pitfalls of being a college boy. Fortunately, I was fleet of foot and quick of wit and scooted my East coast butt out of there, without too much damage.
I got a quick lesson in "red-neckedness" in Fargo, Georgia, home of the Okefenokee and the world's largest collection of howling dogs, pickup trucks, red-necks and white bread. "We don't serve none of that fancy stuff here, (wholewheat/rye bread)." Fortunately for me, I love grits and cans of corn beef hash, and can survive two full days without fruit or vegetables. (I am tough!)
The place to go, if you want to hang out in a really cool red-neck town, is the "fillin statchun/food store", in Fargo. Gas and conversation cost the same and the vocabulary is quite remarkable. If I had not been a survival hunter and logger for years in British Columbia, I would have accepted that I was in a time warp. Now, I wish I owned a Ford truck dealership, smack dab in the middle of Georgia, and gave out dog cages, as a bonus for every four-wheeler that I could sell.
The truly amazing thing is the Gator Motel we stayed at, was on a total honor system. We did not ever see anyone connected with the motel. The rooms had our names on the doors, they were unlocked and we left a check and the key on the dresser, upon leaving. The rooms were very clean and the bed bugs were all friendly.
I don't have much to say about paddling, for two reasons: the atmosphere in Fargo was more interesting and I only paddled one day. If you want to get a feel for Fargo, watch the movie "Fargo", pretend it is the South and try to decide how many people can be fed into a woodchipper at one time.
It is an 800 mile round trip to Fargo, with two restaurants in town. One, the Suwanee River Cafe, was my favorite, cuz them folks waz friendly. The other, Karen's, was open to suggestions, if you could find her open, but don't ask for whole wheat bread, cuz white is what we serve. At Karen's, the little girl talking to her doll, is the only child on the planet, that has given her doll a first, middle and last name. What else is there to do, if you don't own a four-wheel drive pickup, set of howling dogs, lots of guns and chewin' tobacco??? I guess you could paddle or watch your spouse become a balloon, right in front of your eyes. Remember, no vegetables or fruit within 30 miles.
On the way back, we stopped at my favorite town along the way, Monticello, Florida. We got to watch three encephalopods discover how to eat fork-food without utensils, making for an overall complete understanding of the prehistoric rites of passage on another interesting Bob Andrews big boy trip. I have written a letter to the United Nations, recommending that when the @#&% hits the fan in New York, they consider Fargo, Georgia, as the new choice for all of the world diplomats to gather, especially with room rates as low as $29 for two or more.
Happy New Year.
Tensaw River - Adventure Paddle 1
Omega-Alpha Paddle or
The Last Sunset/First Sunrise Paddle
December 31, 2004 - January 1, 2005
By: Harriet Ingraham
Start: Lower Bryant's Landing to finish at Mizell's Fish Camp on the causeway, $3.00 cost per boat at put-in; $4.00 cost per boat at take-out. This was a 2-day trip taken by Gene Boothe, Harriet and Fritz Ingraham.
Conditions: upper 60's/lower 70's day; mid 50's night; river flowing very slowly, water down in river; wind started slight out of south/southeast, increased on day two.
Finding ourselves with a long weekend and no plans, we decided to make a trip from north of I-65 down to the causeway. Originally, Caroline Boothe was coming, to round out the four-some, but family called, so no Caroline - we missed her.
We were dropped off, late the morning of December 31, 2004, at a MUDDY Lower Bryant Landing by Gene's daughter. We departed the landing at 12:05 pm - Fritz in his Necky Elaho and Gene and I in the Princess Caroline Necky tandem. Having wanted to make this paddle for a couple of years, I knew it would be a fun one, but I had no idea what was in store for this three-some.
Two boats and three paddlers, with plans to camp overnight somewhere on the bank of the Tensaw River, saw us off with loaded boats, sitting very low in the water. The river was flowing slowly, but having little headwind at the onset, we were comfortable we could make decent time.
We did the local Tour of Homes at the beginning of the paddle - viewing the lovely houseboats along the east side of the Tensaw, just south of Lower Bryant at what we believe is called Live Oak. And indeed, there are truly some lovely homes.
Paddling on, we came upon the most lovely cypress in the state of Alabama - and with a low tide, we were able to view her from toes to the top of her wings - we named this cypress The Loving Mother Cypress - arms stretched wide to wrap travelers of the river. One of the loveliest sights on the river.
Paddling in an area that I have never paddled was exciting. The Tensaw River is much smaller above I-65. The riverbank is high in some points, and although showing signs of the clear-cutting of the early 1900's, a beautiful site to behold. I was quite surprised to see the change of colors on the north end of our trip - oranges and reds in the trees - a late fall. We popped into Hastie Lake - which looks to be a nice paddle on another trip.
As we approached I-65, we began to hear the traffic in the background. I-65 is about 3-4 miles of river travel from our put-in. Immediately after passing under I-65, we began looking for The Cutoff, which would have led us to Dennis Lake, and back onto the Tensaw. Upon finding The Cutoff, we decided it was not passable in low water and the litter from Hurricane Ivan and kept to the main river. As the Tensaw merges with Miflin Lake and the Alabama River (?) just past this point, the river opened up a great deal - much wider and a bit of river traffic. We found our lunch spot - dubbed "The Campsite" - approximately 5-6 miles from our put-in. With low water, stepping out of our boats was no easy job - muck up to our knees - being the lighter of the crowd, I made it to shore and found some boards and sticks to lay down for Fritz and Gene to walk across. Gene had previously camped on this site, and it should be noted that this looks to be a great campsite. However, we were only 2 hrs into our trip, so we opted for lunch and to move on.
We met more of a headwind after lunch - wind coming from the southeast for most of the afternoon. I spotted our only gator of the trip shortly after lunch - a large and beautiful gator resting on the bank. As Fritz had taken the lead, Gene and I backtracked to get a closer view. She must have been 10 -11 feet long - so still that I thought she was dead. We took a few pictures of her and moved on in wonderment of our lovely find - yelled to Fritz, who turned around to go investigate. Upon Fritz catching up to us some ½ hour later (the only time of the trip we actually were ahead of Fritz), he told us she opened her left eye and blinked at him a couple of times. She showed no interest in going back into the cold water - just wanted to remain in her torpor.
From this point, we passed the entrance to Dennis Lake, Patrick's Landing and Cliff's Boat Launch. We tooled around the entrance to Negro Lake, heard the train coming and dashed to watch the train cross over the Tensaw - of course it never came, so we watched The Last Sunset of 2004, while waiting under the train trestle. The sky had been overcast all day - but opened up for this last spectacular sunset of 2004. A rainbow of colors, and the reflection on the Tensaw was unbelievable. We decided to move on, heard a noise, and turned around to see a truck driving across the train tracks. Never heard the train come across - did the gutsy truck scare the locomotive off?
We made camp on the bank of the Tensaw shortly after dark. Cooked our meal, drank a toast of merlot to 2004 and 2005, sat by the fire and retired early. The night was cool and humid, but our paddle of about 17 miles put us to sleep immediately. I awoke in the night to a sky full of stars and a 2/3 moon. Beautiful. As one who has never camped out, this was a wonderful experience.
We awoke in the early morning hours and took our time with breakfast and packing. Gene is a wonderful person to go camping with - ready to explain everything you need to know. We hit the water again at 10:00 to a very stiff south-southeast wind. Got to Gravine Island and decided to paddle up Gravine creek on the west side. Tried the first entrance to the north on the west side, to find the tide too low to take these loaded kayaks through. Came out and went to the main entrance. We saw several hunting boats on the river and in the lake. Bright Orange caps and the boom of guns tells it all. As we pulled out of Gravine lake and paddled on down the west side of the Island, we came upon a flock of White Ibis and Great Egrets feeding on the Island. We watched for quite a while as we drifted closer. I had camera in hand and was able to catch them in spectacular motion as they flew off - a wonderful sight. As we paddled south, we came upon them again feeding in their new location. Being further away this time, we were able to watch the quickness with which they fed and moved across the grasses as a group - protection in number. The beauty of our area is amazing.
As we approached Raft River, we considered paddling the loop of Raft, popping into and through Crab Creek and coming out on the Tensaw, paddling back up the Tensaw to Blakeley. However, given the late hour of day we started paddling, and the stiff wind, we decided we didn't want to add the many extra miles to this particular trip. So we passed Raft River, Cloverleaf landing, the big Cliff at Blakeley and headed toward One Mile Bayou. I was amazed at the beauty of this bayou. We passed several lone fishermen - all happy to be enjoying the 1st day of the year doing what they love - fishing. The bayou is alive with palms - so different from the lower part of the delta - closer to the causeway. A wonderful paddle. Upon leaving One Mile Bayou, we paddled back against the stiff wind and current up and across the Tensaw to take a break at Blakeley and have a bite of lunch. After that stretch of paddle, we were all ready to get out of our boats and stretch our legs. After lunch we headed south. We passed by the Cutoff but stayed on the Apalachee River - opting to not take a chance on portaging. We had previously come across an area of lotus pods and came upon several more on this stretch - a treat, but who knows where they will pop up come blooming season. We veered to the east and moved into the Blakeley River. We stopped at King's Battery for a breather. It is noted that King's Battery's north side was greatly damaged in Ivan. Also, with the tide down, we saw the pilings of the Battery - something all boaters need to be aware of - just off the shore to the north - easy damage to our boats if we are not careful. We saw the end in sight - Mizell's Fish Camp. The last 5 miles from our lunch break was a hard paddle, fighting wind the entire way. We were happy to see our vehicle awaiting us in the parking lot, yet sad to be ending this trip. Dinner at Ed's Shed capped the trip.
The river banks showed signs of Hurricane Ivan for the entire trip - I was amazed at the number of trees down - of course those on the water's edge were already in a weakened state. It was sad to see the loss, but just nature working her circle of life.
On these two days - total time of about 8-1/2 hours of actual moving time, we saw killdeer snipe, Osprey, and the before mentioned White Ibis, Great Egrets and of course, our gator. We had hoped to catch sight of an Eagle, but missed that on this trip.
This is the first of the Mobile Bay Canoe and Kayak Club Adventure Paddle series. We decided on the spur of the moment to try this. It is very much doable. As a paddler who has only paddled from a point, back to the same point, the opportunity to experience the change of scenery over 32 miles is unexplainable. I have paddled parts of most of this trip before, but to see it in a 2-day period leaves me without words to express the wonder, beauty and change of our area. I recommend that many of us can do this trip, however, I am very happy that we did not have a stiffer headwind and had at least a little current going with us. I have been on the Tensaw many times with white caps, and this is not a trip I would want to make paddling against white caps, wind and current.
NOTE: Although we traveled 32 miles, if you were to paddle from Lower Bryant Landing directly to Mizell's Fish camp on the causeway without any side trips, the distance would be closer to 26 miles.
Omega-Alpha Paddle or
The Last Sunset/First Sunrise Paddle
December 31, 2004 - January 1, 2005
By: Harriet Ingraham
Start: Lower Bryant's Landing to finish at Mizell's Fish Camp on the causeway, $3.00 cost per boat at put-in; $4.00 cost per boat at take-out. This was a 2-day trip taken by Gene Boothe, Harriet and Fritz Ingraham.
Conditions: upper 60's/lower 70's day; mid 50's night; river flowing very slowly, water down in river; wind started slight out of south/southeast, increased on day two.
Finding ourselves with a long weekend and no plans, we decided to make a trip from north of I-65 down to the causeway. Originally, Caroline Boothe was coming, to round out the four-some, but family called, so no Caroline - we missed her.
We were dropped off, late the morning of December 31, 2004, at a MUDDY Lower Bryant Landing by Gene's daughter. We departed the landing at 12:05 pm - Fritz in his Necky Elaho and Gene and I in the Princess Caroline Necky tandem. Having wanted to make this paddle for a couple of years, I knew it would be a fun one, but I had no idea what was in store for this three-some.
Two boats and three paddlers, with plans to camp overnight somewhere on the bank of the Tensaw River, saw us off with loaded boats, sitting very low in the water. The river was flowing slowly, but having little headwind at the onset, we were comfortable we could make decent time.
We did the local Tour of Homes at the beginning of the paddle - viewing the lovely houseboats along the east side of the Tensaw, just south of Lower Bryant at what we believe is called Live Oak. And indeed, there are truly some lovely homes.
Paddling on, we came upon the most lovely cypress in the state of Alabama - and with a low tide, we were able to view her from toes to the top of her wings - we named this cypress The Loving Mother Cypress - arms stretched wide to wrap travelers of the river. One of the loveliest sights on the river.
Paddling in an area that I have never paddled was exciting. The Tensaw River is much smaller above I-65. The riverbank is high in some points, and although showing signs of the clear-cutting of the early 1900's, a beautiful site to behold. I was quite surprised to see the change of colors on the north end of our trip - oranges and reds in the trees - a late fall. We popped into Hastie Lake - which looks to be a nice paddle on another trip.
As we approached I-65, we began to hear the traffic in the background. I-65 is about 3-4 miles of river travel from our put-in. Immediately after passing under I-65, we began looking for The Cutoff, which would have led us to Dennis Lake, and back onto the Tensaw. Upon finding The Cutoff, we decided it was not passable in low water and the litter from Hurricane Ivan and kept to the main river. As the Tensaw merges with Miflin Lake and the Alabama River (?) just past this point, the river opened up a great deal - much wider and a bit of river traffic. We found our lunch spot - dubbed "The Campsite" - approximately 5-6 miles from our put-in. With low water, stepping out of our boats was no easy job - muck up to our knees - being the lighter of the crowd, I made it to shore and found some boards and sticks to lay down for Fritz and Gene to walk across. Gene had previously camped on this site, and it should be noted that this looks to be a great campsite. However, we were only 2 hrs into our trip, so we opted for lunch and to move on.
We met more of a headwind after lunch - wind coming from the southeast for most of the afternoon. I spotted our only gator of the trip shortly after lunch - a large and beautiful gator resting on the bank. As Fritz had taken the lead, Gene and I backtracked to get a closer view. She must have been 10 -11 feet long - so still that I thought she was dead. We took a few pictures of her and moved on in wonderment of our lovely find - yelled to Fritz, who turned around to go investigate. Upon Fritz catching up to us some ½ hour later (the only time of the trip we actually were ahead of Fritz), he told us she opened her left eye and blinked at him a couple of times. She showed no interest in going back into the cold water - just wanted to remain in her torpor.
From this point, we passed the entrance to Dennis Lake, Patrick's Landing and Cliff's Boat Launch. We tooled around the entrance to Negro Lake, heard the train coming and dashed to watch the train cross over the Tensaw - of course it never came, so we watched The Last Sunset of 2004, while waiting under the train trestle. The sky had been overcast all day - but opened up for this last spectacular sunset of 2004. A rainbow of colors, and the reflection on the Tensaw was unbelievable. We decided to move on, heard a noise, and turned around to see a truck driving across the train tracks. Never heard the train come across - did the gutsy truck scare the locomotive off?
We made camp on the bank of the Tensaw shortly after dark. Cooked our meal, drank a toast of merlot to 2004 and 2005, sat by the fire and retired early. The night was cool and humid, but our paddle of about 17 miles put us to sleep immediately. I awoke in the night to a sky full of stars and a 2/3 moon. Beautiful. As one who has never camped out, this was a wonderful experience.
We awoke in the early morning hours and took our time with breakfast and packing. Gene is a wonderful person to go camping with - ready to explain everything you need to know. We hit the water again at 10:00 to a very stiff south-southeast wind. Got to Gravine Island and decided to paddle up Gravine creek on the west side. Tried the first entrance to the north on the west side, to find the tide too low to take these loaded kayaks through. Came out and went to the main entrance. We saw several hunting boats on the river and in the lake. Bright Orange caps and the boom of guns tells it all. As we pulled out of Gravine lake and paddled on down the west side of the Island, we came upon a flock of White Ibis and Great Egrets feeding on the Island. We watched for quite a while as we drifted closer. I had camera in hand and was able to catch them in spectacular motion as they flew off - a wonderful sight. As we paddled south, we came upon them again feeding in their new location. Being further away this time, we were able to watch the quickness with which they fed and moved across the grasses as a group - protection in number. The beauty of our area is amazing.
As we approached Raft River, we considered paddling the loop of Raft, popping into and through Crab Creek and coming out on the Tensaw, paddling back up the Tensaw to Blakeley. However, given the late hour of day we started paddling, and the stiff wind, we decided we didn't want to add the many extra miles to this particular trip. So we passed Raft River, Cloverleaf landing, the big Cliff at Blakeley and headed toward One Mile Bayou. I was amazed at the beauty of this bayou. We passed several lone fishermen - all happy to be enjoying the 1st day of the year doing what they love - fishing. The bayou is alive with palms - so different from the lower part of the delta - closer to the causeway. A wonderful paddle. Upon leaving One Mile Bayou, we paddled back against the stiff wind and current up and across the Tensaw to take a break at Blakeley and have a bite of lunch. After that stretch of paddle, we were all ready to get out of our boats and stretch our legs. After lunch we headed south. We passed by the Cutoff but stayed on the Apalachee River - opting to not take a chance on portaging. We had previously come across an area of lotus pods and came upon several more on this stretch - a treat, but who knows where they will pop up come blooming season. We veered to the east and moved into the Blakeley River. We stopped at King's Battery for a breather. It is noted that King's Battery's north side was greatly damaged in Ivan. Also, with the tide down, we saw the pilings of the Battery - something all boaters need to be aware of - just off the shore to the north - easy damage to our boats if we are not careful. We saw the end in sight - Mizell's Fish Camp. The last 5 miles from our lunch break was a hard paddle, fighting wind the entire way. We were happy to see our vehicle awaiting us in the parking lot, yet sad to be ending this trip. Dinner at Ed's Shed capped the trip.
The river banks showed signs of Hurricane Ivan for the entire trip - I was amazed at the number of trees down - of course those on the water's edge were already in a weakened state. It was sad to see the loss, but just nature working her circle of life.
On these two days - total time of about 8-1/2 hours of actual moving time, we saw killdeer snipe, Osprey, and the before mentioned White Ibis, Great Egrets and of course, our gator. We had hoped to catch sight of an Eagle, but missed that on this trip.
This is the first of the Mobile Bay Canoe and Kayak Club Adventure Paddle series. We decided on the spur of the moment to try this. It is very much doable. As a paddler who has only paddled from a point, back to the same point, the opportunity to experience the change of scenery over 32 miles is unexplainable. I have paddled parts of most of this trip before, but to see it in a 2-day period leaves me without words to express the wonder, beauty and change of our area. I recommend that many of us can do this trip, however, I am very happy that we did not have a stiffer headwind and had at least a little current going with us. I have been on the Tensaw many times with white caps, and this is not a trip I would want to make paddling against white caps, wind and current.
NOTE: Although we traveled 32 miles, if you were to paddle from Lower Bryant Landing directly to Mizell's Fish camp on the causeway without any side trips, the distance would be closer to 26 miles.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Bay Minette Basis (Moan, eh!)
Sunday, December 19, 2004
by Gary Worob
MOAN, EH! (A CANADIAN VERSION OF THE MONET PADDLE)
The first rule of writing is to never start out a sentence with "well".
Well, there were eight of us who showed up, but four were immediately MIA and we never saw them again.
It took me two tries to paddle through the bridge at Buzbee's, which should give you a clue as to how strong the wind was. I watched the ospreys soaring overhead and wished it would be that easy to use the wind for movement. But, the only movements were many strokes forward. I tried to not look at the side bank, to see I was barely moving. Somehow, the four of us (Matt, his lovely mom, Nancy and I) made it to the first turn off, where Matt took his monthly photos.
When we came back out of the inlet, the Canadian Arctic blast (hence the Moan, EH!) had picked up even more, and we aimed at little reed islands or stands of grasses to target for the next respite. I had just left a wonderful x-mas party and couldn't believe I gave that up to go into survival mode once more, but we pushed on. I detoured to the fallen oak tree part way up Bay Minette Basin, to try to find some more ancient pottery. None was to be found and so then it was back to the "workout". Matt tied Nancy's bowline to the stern of his tandem kayak, probably out of fear the wind would pick her up and deposit her somewhere south of the bridge. I was relieved to finally make it to the standing oak, where Matt made hot mulled cider and had lots of goodies for all. We celebrated the tough paddle and the upcoming blast home, and toasted the x-mas holiday. We then packed up, and in seconds, were back at Buzbee's to see the setting sun, as well as the temperature.
Our four missing in action probably went up the right channel, the smart way to go. But, we were all pleased we had the experience and look forward to the next Monet, without the Moan. This was the first time in over 40 years, I ever got a blister from paddling. Maybe it was from holding on so tight on the way back, for fear of flying!
Happy holidays to all and, oh yes, all of us won the prize for costume and creations, Matt's mom's homemade pralines, yeah!
Sunday, December 19, 2004
by Gary Worob
MOAN, EH! (A CANADIAN VERSION OF THE MONET PADDLE)
The first rule of writing is to never start out a sentence with "well".
Well, there were eight of us who showed up, but four were immediately MIA and we never saw them again.
It took me two tries to paddle through the bridge at Buzbee's, which should give you a clue as to how strong the wind was. I watched the ospreys soaring overhead and wished it would be that easy to use the wind for movement. But, the only movements were many strokes forward. I tried to not look at the side bank, to see I was barely moving. Somehow, the four of us (Matt, his lovely mom, Nancy and I) made it to the first turn off, where Matt took his monthly photos.
When we came back out of the inlet, the Canadian Arctic blast (hence the Moan, EH!) had picked up even more, and we aimed at little reed islands or stands of grasses to target for the next respite. I had just left a wonderful x-mas party and couldn't believe I gave that up to go into survival mode once more, but we pushed on. I detoured to the fallen oak tree part way up Bay Minette Basin, to try to find some more ancient pottery. None was to be found and so then it was back to the "workout". Matt tied Nancy's bowline to the stern of his tandem kayak, probably out of fear the wind would pick her up and deposit her somewhere south of the bridge. I was relieved to finally make it to the standing oak, where Matt made hot mulled cider and had lots of goodies for all. We celebrated the tough paddle and the upcoming blast home, and toasted the x-mas holiday. We then packed up, and in seconds, were back at Buzbee's to see the setting sun, as well as the temperature.
Our four missing in action probably went up the right channel, the smart way to go. But, we were all pleased we had the experience and look forward to the next Monet, without the Moan. This was the first time in over 40 years, I ever got a blister from paddling. Maybe it was from holding on so tight on the way back, for fear of flying!
Happy holidays to all and, oh yes, all of us won the prize for costume and creations, Matt's mom's homemade pralines, yeah!
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Bob Andrews Memorial Adventure Event
1.5 mile kayak, 1 mile trail run, 3 mile bike
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Prose by Brint Adams
Festive poetry by Gary Worob
It was a blustery afternoon, with northwest winds at 15 mph, temperature of 50 degrees, partly cloudy skies and the tide starting to rise. Three two-person teams, two solos and three volunteers showed up for the second Adventure Event. This was my first attempt at it, and it turned out very well for a very low-key, no-frills race.
Gary was the starter, timer and finish line crew, while Nancy and Linda were course monitors trying to keep everyone heading in the right direction. The race started at 3:19 PM, with four kayaks heading in one direction, north in Mobile Bay towards Rock Creek, while four cyclists headed out of the FYC parking lot, turned north on Hwy 98, to Scenic 98 towards the trail run transition.
I started out in the kayak phase with Bob, Julie and Jim. The wind kicked up some pretty good two foot rollers coming in diagonally at us, once we cleared the marina entrance. I got off to a slow start, while Bob pulled ahead by 10 meters. It was difficult to get into any rhythm, as we just tried to stay upright. I finally pulled ahead of Bob and made it to the entrance of Rock Creek, with about a 15 second lead. Julie and Jim were already way off in the distance. With the north wind blowing water out of the bay, the water level was low and there was only about 3"-6" of water for about 50 feet leading into the mouth of the creek. I jumped out of my kayak and ran while dragging it to deeper water. I got back in and sprint paddled up Rock Creek to the turns, under the Scenic 98 bridge and ahead to where it became too shallow again. I got out and dragged my kayak over sand bars and around turns for another 50 meters and when I was almost to the takeout point, I fell in some deep water and had to swim and pull my kayak to the beach takeout. I just pulled the kayak up to the side, but forgot to tie it off on a branch. As I started to run up the bank, Bob was paddling around the corner, still about 15 seconds behind.
I decided to run in my Chacos, so with no transition time, immediately started my trail run, albeit soaking wet. As I reached the log bridge across the creek, Larry was just arriving from his run, coming the other way. He let me cross first, which was sandy and a little treacherous. My run was OK, as I kept running the whole way, but not very fast. As I ran up towards the first hill, I passed Nick and Jim and up the final hill, passed Gene before coming out to the bike transition. My transition was good, as I changed into my biking shoes, helmet and gloves, took a drink and got away in about 30 seconds.
This is where I put the most separation between myself and Bob, as I made it to the FYC parking lot in nine minutes with a one-way total split time of 40 minutes, circled and headed back. I passed Bob somewhere just before turning back onto Scenic 98, and hit it hard the rest of the way back. Just as I was approaching the transition area, Julie was starting out on her bike.
I did the transition again, changed back into the Chacos, took a last drink and hit the trail. Again, my trail speed was not great, but I didn't walk either. When I reached the creek, I found my kayak was moved over to the other side and turned around facing downstream. By not tying it up, my kayak probably got loose and in the way of the others, so they parked it over in some calm water for me. I splashed into the creek, jumped back in and took off. It was definately quicker going downstream and with the tide rising some, I was able to cross the sandbar at the mouth of Rock Creek without getting out. The paddle back in the bay was somewhat easier, with the waves behind, but still coming in diagonally. I was able to surf a little and make up some time and came into the marina to the finish, in a total time of 1:21. It was a challenging sprint course and worthy of expansion for future races.
Later, I found out Jim went off the trail run course, by not finding the log creek crossing. He wandered up the hill through some backyards, onto the highway and walked all the way back to the parking lot. Therefore, he and Nick were disqualified.
Here are the final results:
Team (2nd person finish):
Gene, Julie 1:08
Bob, Don 1:08:30
Nick, Jim DNF
Individual two-way total:Brint 1:21
Individual one-way:
Brint 0:40 (1st leg)
Brint 0:41 (2nd leg)
Larry 0:44
Team individual one way:
Bob 0:45
Gene 0:54
Julie 1:08
Don 1:08:30
Nick 1:08:30
Jim DNF
The Bob Andrews Very Memorial Paddle
by Gary Worob
Twinkle, twinkle little star,
Where oh where is our last participant?
Has he strayed afar?
Is this deja vous all over again?
Has the memorial event really lost another friend?
Maybe the cool evening air
Made visions of sugar plums
Dance and give him alternative hope,
While the rest waited in despair!
I, the timekeeper,
Waited with baited breath,
Not wanting to hear of
An untimely death.
And thus with adjunct surprise,
He appeared with delight to us
And a gleam in his eyes.
Thank the gods for this blessed event.
Who really knows whereever he went,
And others, wrong turns did take.
But none complained about the race
With no winnings and no booty to take.
It was the second annual Bob Andrews Memorial.
Another event with wind, high waves and struggles and toil.
No use to tell you, that Brint was in first.
But since no one wins this event, no one could do worse!
Thank you Larry for another hair-raising event.
One more big boy almost came and went.
We look forward to next year or even next month,
When one more athlete can fall in the water, another ill-fated dunk!
Your youth and vitality are only matched
By the vigor you show for giving us all
Near fatal heart attacks!
So hurrah and bring on the beer.
The big boys, big girls are tougher this year.
And down the chimney with a whir and a grin,
No lump of coal for the resident, Larry within!
May your stockings be full of warming clothes,
and some more of that funny stuff
You obviously have been putting up your nose!
For such an event is for the mentally insane.
No one else would go out to get lost
For no prizes, no glory, no fame.
We aren't complaining,
In fact we want more.
Can't wait to see what's next
In Larry's full store.
Good-bye for now from the wordsmith, it's late.
I've locked the door and sealed the gate.
Tonight, I'll be wondering the upcoming fate!
1.5 mile kayak, 1 mile trail run, 3 mile bike
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Prose by Brint Adams
Festive poetry by Gary Worob
It was a blustery afternoon, with northwest winds at 15 mph, temperature of 50 degrees, partly cloudy skies and the tide starting to rise. Three two-person teams, two solos and three volunteers showed up for the second Adventure Event. This was my first attempt at it, and it turned out very well for a very low-key, no-frills race.
Gary was the starter, timer and finish line crew, while Nancy and Linda were course monitors trying to keep everyone heading in the right direction. The race started at 3:19 PM, with four kayaks heading in one direction, north in Mobile Bay towards Rock Creek, while four cyclists headed out of the FYC parking lot, turned north on Hwy 98, to Scenic 98 towards the trail run transition.
I started out in the kayak phase with Bob, Julie and Jim. The wind kicked up some pretty good two foot rollers coming in diagonally at us, once we cleared the marina entrance. I got off to a slow start, while Bob pulled ahead by 10 meters. It was difficult to get into any rhythm, as we just tried to stay upright. I finally pulled ahead of Bob and made it to the entrance of Rock Creek, with about a 15 second lead. Julie and Jim were already way off in the distance. With the north wind blowing water out of the bay, the water level was low and there was only about 3"-6" of water for about 50 feet leading into the mouth of the creek. I jumped out of my kayak and ran while dragging it to deeper water. I got back in and sprint paddled up Rock Creek to the turns, under the Scenic 98 bridge and ahead to where it became too shallow again. I got out and dragged my kayak over sand bars and around turns for another 50 meters and when I was almost to the takeout point, I fell in some deep water and had to swim and pull my kayak to the beach takeout. I just pulled the kayak up to the side, but forgot to tie it off on a branch. As I started to run up the bank, Bob was paddling around the corner, still about 15 seconds behind.
I decided to run in my Chacos, so with no transition time, immediately started my trail run, albeit soaking wet. As I reached the log bridge across the creek, Larry was just arriving from his run, coming the other way. He let me cross first, which was sandy and a little treacherous. My run was OK, as I kept running the whole way, but not very fast. As I ran up towards the first hill, I passed Nick and Jim and up the final hill, passed Gene before coming out to the bike transition. My transition was good, as I changed into my biking shoes, helmet and gloves, took a drink and got away in about 30 seconds.
This is where I put the most separation between myself and Bob, as I made it to the FYC parking lot in nine minutes with a one-way total split time of 40 minutes, circled and headed back. I passed Bob somewhere just before turning back onto Scenic 98, and hit it hard the rest of the way back. Just as I was approaching the transition area, Julie was starting out on her bike.
I did the transition again, changed back into the Chacos, took a last drink and hit the trail. Again, my trail speed was not great, but I didn't walk either. When I reached the creek, I found my kayak was moved over to the other side and turned around facing downstream. By not tying it up, my kayak probably got loose and in the way of the others, so they parked it over in some calm water for me. I splashed into the creek, jumped back in and took off. It was definately quicker going downstream and with the tide rising some, I was able to cross the sandbar at the mouth of Rock Creek without getting out. The paddle back in the bay was somewhat easier, with the waves behind, but still coming in diagonally. I was able to surf a little and make up some time and came into the marina to the finish, in a total time of 1:21. It was a challenging sprint course and worthy of expansion for future races.
Later, I found out Jim went off the trail run course, by not finding the log creek crossing. He wandered up the hill through some backyards, onto the highway and walked all the way back to the parking lot. Therefore, he and Nick were disqualified.
Here are the final results:
Team (2nd person finish):
Gene, Julie 1:08
Bob, Don 1:08:30
Nick, Jim DNF
Individual two-way total:Brint 1:21
Individual one-way:
Brint 0:40 (1st leg)
Brint 0:41 (2nd leg)
Larry 0:44
Team individual one way:
Bob 0:45
Gene 0:54
Julie 1:08
Don 1:08:30
Nick 1:08:30
Jim DNF
The Bob Andrews Very Memorial Paddle
by Gary Worob
Twinkle, twinkle little star,
Where oh where is our last participant?
Has he strayed afar?
Is this deja vous all over again?
Has the memorial event really lost another friend?
Maybe the cool evening air
Made visions of sugar plums
Dance and give him alternative hope,
While the rest waited in despair!
I, the timekeeper,
Waited with baited breath,
Not wanting to hear of
An untimely death.
And thus with adjunct surprise,
He appeared with delight to us
And a gleam in his eyes.
Thank the gods for this blessed event.
Who really knows whereever he went,
And others, wrong turns did take.
But none complained about the race
With no winnings and no booty to take.
It was the second annual Bob Andrews Memorial.
Another event with wind, high waves and struggles and toil.
No use to tell you, that Brint was in first.
But since no one wins this event, no one could do worse!
Thank you Larry for another hair-raising event.
One more big boy almost came and went.
We look forward to next year or even next month,
When one more athlete can fall in the water, another ill-fated dunk!
Your youth and vitality are only matched
By the vigor you show for giving us all
Near fatal heart attacks!
So hurrah and bring on the beer.
The big boys, big girls are tougher this year.
And down the chimney with a whir and a grin,
No lump of coal for the resident, Larry within!
May your stockings be full of warming clothes,
and some more of that funny stuff
You obviously have been putting up your nose!
For such an event is for the mentally insane.
No one else would go out to get lost
For no prizes, no glory, no fame.
We aren't complaining,
In fact we want more.
Can't wait to see what's next
In Larry's full store.
Good-bye for now from the wordsmith, it's late.
I've locked the door and sealed the gate.
Tonight, I'll be wondering the upcoming fate!
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Mudhole Creek
Saturday, December 4, 2004
by Brint Adams
With good weather conditions today, six paddlers met at Bruno's and traveled up Hwy. 225 to Cloverleaf Landing Lane and put in at Cloverleaf Landing at 10:45 AM. Our group included Larry, Frank, Bruce, Gary and Jon, who came in to Fairhope from Kansas by sailboat, down the Tennessee-Tombigbee, on his way to Florida and the Bahamas. The sky was cloudy, no wind, 62 degrees with a falling tide, as we started down a swiftly running Tensaw River.
Recent flooding upriver brought high silty water into the delta, with plenty of floating debris and large chunks of water hyacinth. We stayed along the eastern shore and soon paddled into fast and tricky swirling waters in front of the exposed riverbluff at the righthand turn in the river just north of Blakeley State Park. After taking the left fork down the Apalachee River, our crew paddled easily and quickly past the upper entrance to The Cutoff, before angling across the river to the entrance to Mudhole Creek.
The entrance angles back to the northwest, and it was an adventure exiting the fast current with the water swirling around, as we turned into Mudhole. Interestingly, there was a current moving forward with us, which we found turned south down a cut towards Little Bateau Bay. We continued up Mudhole Creek which turned sharply to the northeast, splitting into two tributaries ending in the delta. The water was significantly clearer the further we went. As we turned into the right fork at the split, we came across six Black-crowned Night Herons perched in a small tree. They circled around us after most likely recently arriving from somewhere up north. We also stopped along the way to pick a few dried lotus pods.
On our return, we turned down the cut to Little Bateau, which is not shown on USGS maps. The current was fairly swift as the bay was draining out to Conway Creek and into Chacaloochee Bay with the falling tide. We turned around and started our tough fight upstream and upriver on the way back to Blakeley. Upon exiting Mudhole into the Apalachee, some of us decided to hug the west bank, while others angled across to the east bank. It was a long, hard slog either way, as we dragged into the sheltered waters next to the Blakeley pavilion. Some stopped for lunch, waiting for the others to arrive, while Jon took the trail loop around Blakeley, noting the various landmarks and vegetation with identifying signage.
Once we pulled the group back together, we started upriver and pulled into the hidden entrance of Baptizing Branch, along the north side of Blakeley. This is a beautiful, quiet waterway sheltered from the elements and worth a look. After exiting, we started back up the Tensaw, where most of the crew cut across to the west bank, to avoid the outside of the lefthand turn in the river along the bluff, with the stronger current. Once across from Cloverleaf, they cut back across the current to the take-out.
This was a very satisfying paddle for all, one that took us into an area none had seen before. We all agreed it was a place we would like to return to, in other seasons. Now that we found the cut to Little Bateau, this route would make a great point to point trip from Cloverleaf to Mudhole Creek, Little Bateau Bay, Conway Creek, Chacaloochee Bay and take out along the causeway at old Riverdoc's parking lot.
Saturday, December 4, 2004
by Brint Adams
With good weather conditions today, six paddlers met at Bruno's and traveled up Hwy. 225 to Cloverleaf Landing Lane and put in at Cloverleaf Landing at 10:45 AM. Our group included Larry, Frank, Bruce, Gary and Jon, who came in to Fairhope from Kansas by sailboat, down the Tennessee-Tombigbee, on his way to Florida and the Bahamas. The sky was cloudy, no wind, 62 degrees with a falling tide, as we started down a swiftly running Tensaw River.
Recent flooding upriver brought high silty water into the delta, with plenty of floating debris and large chunks of water hyacinth. We stayed along the eastern shore and soon paddled into fast and tricky swirling waters in front of the exposed riverbluff at the righthand turn in the river just north of Blakeley State Park. After taking the left fork down the Apalachee River, our crew paddled easily and quickly past the upper entrance to The Cutoff, before angling across the river to the entrance to Mudhole Creek.
The entrance angles back to the northwest, and it was an adventure exiting the fast current with the water swirling around, as we turned into Mudhole. Interestingly, there was a current moving forward with us, which we found turned south down a cut towards Little Bateau Bay. We continued up Mudhole Creek which turned sharply to the northeast, splitting into two tributaries ending in the delta. The water was significantly clearer the further we went. As we turned into the right fork at the split, we came across six Black-crowned Night Herons perched in a small tree. They circled around us after most likely recently arriving from somewhere up north. We also stopped along the way to pick a few dried lotus pods.
On our return, we turned down the cut to Little Bateau, which is not shown on USGS maps. The current was fairly swift as the bay was draining out to Conway Creek and into Chacaloochee Bay with the falling tide. We turned around and started our tough fight upstream and upriver on the way back to Blakeley. Upon exiting Mudhole into the Apalachee, some of us decided to hug the west bank, while others angled across to the east bank. It was a long, hard slog either way, as we dragged into the sheltered waters next to the Blakeley pavilion. Some stopped for lunch, waiting for the others to arrive, while Jon took the trail loop around Blakeley, noting the various landmarks and vegetation with identifying signage.
Once we pulled the group back together, we started upriver and pulled into the hidden entrance of Baptizing Branch, along the north side of Blakeley. This is a beautiful, quiet waterway sheltered from the elements and worth a look. After exiting, we started back up the Tensaw, where most of the crew cut across to the west bank, to avoid the outside of the lefthand turn in the river along the bluff, with the stronger current. Once across from Cloverleaf, they cut back across the current to the take-out.
This was a very satisfying paddle for all, one that took us into an area none had seen before. We all agreed it was a place we would like to return to, in other seasons. Now that we found the cut to Little Bateau, this route would make a great point to point trip from Cloverleaf to Mudhole Creek, Little Bateau Bay, Conway Creek, Chacaloochee Bay and take out along the causeway at old Riverdoc's parking lot.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Dauphin Island - west end
Saturday-Sunday, November 20-21, 2004
by Brint Adams
The forecast for the weekend called for partly cloudy skies, a 5-10 mph breeze out of the southeast, scattered showers with temperatures ranging from 65-70 degrees. Seven hardy souls showed up at 10:00 AM Saturday morning at Ron Jones bayside house on the west end of Dauphin Island. Ron was very kind to allow us to park in his driveway, which looked similar to Buffalo, NY in January. The hurricane moved large quantities of sand around, which was shoveled to the sides of the streets and driveways into ten foot high mounds of sand everywhere. Ron was fortunate to have a house left with only some damage to his garage and storage room under the main house structure. Many of his neighbors were not as lucky.
Under threatening skies, Larry, Bob, Dick, Gene, Gary, George and I set out westward at 10:50 AM, along the north side of the island, heading for the far end about nine miles away. As soon as we got underway, it started to rain, although it was warm as we continued to paddle. About one mile into the paddle, we came across a couple of small cuts through the island which were navigable only at high tide. However, only a short distance farther, we found a large cut and paddled through to the Gulf side. After some of us paddled in the surf awhile, we stopped for lunch along the inside of the cut.
As we continued down the bay side of the uninhabited west end of the island, we began to see a tremendous amount of debris washed up on the shore and well over and into the middle of the island. We found lots of lumber from houses, piers, stairs and decks. We found a hot tub with all of the exterior piping intact as well as an eight foot long propane tank floating near the shore. There was enough plastic deck furniture along the way to have a party for the whole club.
Irregardless of what the weather prognosticators forecast, the wind changed directions and came out of the north or northeast by at least 20 mph, which kicked up the chop to between 2-4 foot waves, which we attempted cross at an angle. The rain started to come down heavily at times, as we fought the chop just off the coast. After a stop along the beach, our group spread out some and therefore some of us did not see Dick execute a deepwater self-rescue without a paddle float. His new kayak proved to be stable in some pretty awful conditions, as he nimbly crawled back in and gladly activated his electric bilge pump. It worked magnificently as he quickly caught back up with the group.
We found our way to the end of the island at around 2:30 PM and practiced our surf landings without mishap. The rain continued to fall intermittently, as we began to make camp. We were able to practice setting up tents in the rain with the 20 mph north wind blowing us all around. There was absolutely no protection from the elements with the island flat, no trees and very little scrub. We scavenged a nice plastic deck table for our food prep area and began to gather driftwood for a fire. George found enough tinder and kindling to go along with the larger sticks and logs we dragged in from all around us, to build a nice fire which lasted through the evening.
The rain held off while we prepared and ate dinner. We had quite a wide variety ranging from chicken casserole, spaghetti with smoked oysters, jambalaya MRE to a wonderful seaweed and egg soup, with a variety of liquid refreshments as well. The wind died down a little after dark, but remained at least 10 mph throughout the night. Around 3:00 AM, we woke up to the sounds of another shower.
Everyone seemed to want to get moving early as we awoke at 6:00 AM and following a quick breakfast, broke camp at record pace and started our paddle back by around 7:45 AM. Actually, Gary could not wait and started out on his own at 7:30, followed by Bob and I, who took the Gulf side back to the large cut-through. The weather was considerably improved with partly cloudy skies, warmer temperatures, a slower north wind and no rain.
Bob and I saw large groups of cormorants and brown pelicans hanging around the beach and scouting out a morning meal, as we paddled about 50-100 meters off the shoreline. The swells were in the range of 2-4 feet and large, easy rollers. It was a welcome change from the tight nerve-wracking chop the day before. We paddled the approximate eight miles to the cut in 2 hours. After a 15 minute wait, the others started to come in separately from along the north shore.
After all of us arrived at the cut, we took a short mid-morning snack break before finishing the final mile back to the take-out point. Although a day late, Sunday morning turned out to be the perfect time for the easy trip Larry promised us. For those looking for more excitement, the easy turned into another of Larry's famous Big Boy paddles, some have come to enjoy or at least come away from with stories to tell for years to come.
Saturday-Sunday, November 20-21, 2004
by Brint Adams
The forecast for the weekend called for partly cloudy skies, a 5-10 mph breeze out of the southeast, scattered showers with temperatures ranging from 65-70 degrees. Seven hardy souls showed up at 10:00 AM Saturday morning at Ron Jones bayside house on the west end of Dauphin Island. Ron was very kind to allow us to park in his driveway, which looked similar to Buffalo, NY in January. The hurricane moved large quantities of sand around, which was shoveled to the sides of the streets and driveways into ten foot high mounds of sand everywhere. Ron was fortunate to have a house left with only some damage to his garage and storage room under the main house structure. Many of his neighbors were not as lucky.
Under threatening skies, Larry, Bob, Dick, Gene, Gary, George and I set out westward at 10:50 AM, along the north side of the island, heading for the far end about nine miles away. As soon as we got underway, it started to rain, although it was warm as we continued to paddle. About one mile into the paddle, we came across a couple of small cuts through the island which were navigable only at high tide. However, only a short distance farther, we found a large cut and paddled through to the Gulf side. After some of us paddled in the surf awhile, we stopped for lunch along the inside of the cut.
As we continued down the bay side of the uninhabited west end of the island, we began to see a tremendous amount of debris washed up on the shore and well over and into the middle of the island. We found lots of lumber from houses, piers, stairs and decks. We found a hot tub with all of the exterior piping intact as well as an eight foot long propane tank floating near the shore. There was enough plastic deck furniture along the way to have a party for the whole club.
Irregardless of what the weather prognosticators forecast, the wind changed directions and came out of the north or northeast by at least 20 mph, which kicked up the chop to between 2-4 foot waves, which we attempted cross at an angle. The rain started to come down heavily at times, as we fought the chop just off the coast. After a stop along the beach, our group spread out some and therefore some of us did not see Dick execute a deepwater self-rescue without a paddle float. His new kayak proved to be stable in some pretty awful conditions, as he nimbly crawled back in and gladly activated his electric bilge pump. It worked magnificently as he quickly caught back up with the group.
We found our way to the end of the island at around 2:30 PM and practiced our surf landings without mishap. The rain continued to fall intermittently, as we began to make camp. We were able to practice setting up tents in the rain with the 20 mph north wind blowing us all around. There was absolutely no protection from the elements with the island flat, no trees and very little scrub. We scavenged a nice plastic deck table for our food prep area and began to gather driftwood for a fire. George found enough tinder and kindling to go along with the larger sticks and logs we dragged in from all around us, to build a nice fire which lasted through the evening.
The rain held off while we prepared and ate dinner. We had quite a wide variety ranging from chicken casserole, spaghetti with smoked oysters, jambalaya MRE to a wonderful seaweed and egg soup, with a variety of liquid refreshments as well. The wind died down a little after dark, but remained at least 10 mph throughout the night. Around 3:00 AM, we woke up to the sounds of another shower.
Everyone seemed to want to get moving early as we awoke at 6:00 AM and following a quick breakfast, broke camp at record pace and started our paddle back by around 7:45 AM. Actually, Gary could not wait and started out on his own at 7:30, followed by Bob and I, who took the Gulf side back to the large cut-through. The weather was considerably improved with partly cloudy skies, warmer temperatures, a slower north wind and no rain.
Bob and I saw large groups of cormorants and brown pelicans hanging around the beach and scouting out a morning meal, as we paddled about 50-100 meters off the shoreline. The swells were in the range of 2-4 feet and large, easy rollers. It was a welcome change from the tight nerve-wracking chop the day before. We paddled the approximate eight miles to the cut in 2 hours. After a 15 minute wait, the others started to come in separately from along the north shore.
After all of us arrived at the cut, we took a short mid-morning snack break before finishing the final mile back to the take-out point. Although a day late, Sunday morning turned out to be the perfect time for the easy trip Larry promised us. For those looking for more excitement, the easy turned into another of Larry's famous Big Boy paddles, some have come to enjoy or at least come away from with stories to tell for years to come.
Saturday-Sunday, November 20-21, 2004
by Gary Worob
Dauphin Island paddle/the truth is just a lie!
It was unanimously voted upon that I would not be the one to write the trip report. I always, however, have believed that a good lie is worth 10,000 truths and the lies are what we are most fond of (i.e. Santa Claus, tooth fairies, virgins, fair elections, confessions leading to entrance to heaven and that kind of stuff).
The reason I was deselected is that everyone would be afraid that the truth I would tell would invigorate so many to go on the next “big boy” paddle that there would be too many to allow for individuality and not enough room for individual story telling. So I have decided to embellish this report to some extent so that not too many would want to participate, but enough to move the circle of energy forwards. So having set the precedent here is the truth of things:
EGG DROP SOUP
Once upon a time there were seven seriously demented adults close to senility who embarked on the most absurd of missions: to find the pot of gold at the end of an island that was seriously damaged in a recent hurricane the size of which was enough to make sustainability on that formidable property near impossible. It had now become a permanently shifting bird sanctuary whose only natural resource is droppings, feathers and rubbish.
The seven took off and immediately ran into torrential horrific downpour followed by blistering 100 degree weather only to be followed by 90 mile an hour winds and 17 foot waves with troughs so deep that mere mortals would be lost to the deep eternally. This motley crew knew no fear (or sensibility) and proceeded on by the feverous quest of more debris and bird droppings. After many days at sea with little to no provisions they finally embarked on their dream quest, the isle of wrong, a desolate area ideally suited to the asylum they so sought from wirrings and frivolity of the nonsensical nuances of the Saturday afternoon fever………football!
It was their strongest desire to remove themselves from one of the 7 deadly sins of the modern age and thinking thus they rejoiced exuberantly as they set about building Fort Absurd. It was only a matter of 6 months before the fort was finally finished, complete with running water, wind power and dancing women. The latter were captured from a passing pirate ship that had recently pillaged and plundered a nunnery in the high desert along the coastal front.
Now set for the coming winter the festive crew embarked on more efficient projects that could ensure long happy days of comfort. One of the more creative of the repasts was a recycling business started by brint known as “table topping.” This creative repast led to many festive occasions of luxurious dining and cooking classes, which I must admit I had a serious hand in. Another favorite past time was road construction and sanitary sewer design.
After 6 more months the “motleys” started to notice a serious lack of morale among the crew and were fraught with concern for their safety and well-being. The women all proved to be barren except for a fair haired young extremely warming lass named Alice who proved to be an ample bed partner, but maybe, that is too detailed for this report and should be saved for another journey.
So, early one morning and led by yours truly (the first serious deserter) the crew worked their way back to civilization and found that, in truth, the world had not changed. They were in part relieved to know that there is a constance in the world and that there still was football and beer and lies. And, oh yes, there was a pot of gold there somewhere because the rainbow’s end upon leaving shone right on that site.
You can visit Fort Absurd on your internet: www.whitehouse.com.; it has now been taken over by an even more absurd crew.
Egg drop soup!
(sung to the song “four rode on”) Dauphin Island Paddle
7 rode on,
Rode on high
Waves so big you could hardly see
The sky!
The reports will vary,
That’s for sure.
Only the big boys
know the truth…and who’s full of …manure.
There were seven of us
Who braved the squall
And 7 came home
Standing that tall!
It was a weekend
That will be remembered
By the 7 who rode on,
And the truth somewhere will be…long gone.
We rode big waves
And gusts a plenty
Tents flying in the air….
Should have been a documentary.
But it was a testament
To strength,
Courage
And endurance.
At one point
I wondered…
Did I have enough
insurance?
Larry planned this trip
Real well,
It wasn’t his fault
That the weather went …to Hell!
But Sunday brought
good
Cheers for
My birthday.
And it turned
Out to be a beautiful one,
A great
Anniversary!
Thanks to one and all,
For making this paddle
Stand
Tall!
No matter what size
The waves,
And how strong
The wind…
Some of us will remember
This story with a
Snort and
A grin.
by Gary Worob
Dauphin Island paddle/the truth is just a lie!
It was unanimously voted upon that I would not be the one to write the trip report. I always, however, have believed that a good lie is worth 10,000 truths and the lies are what we are most fond of (i.e. Santa Claus, tooth fairies, virgins, fair elections, confessions leading to entrance to heaven and that kind of stuff).
The reason I was deselected is that everyone would be afraid that the truth I would tell would invigorate so many to go on the next “big boy” paddle that there would be too many to allow for individuality and not enough room for individual story telling. So I have decided to embellish this report to some extent so that not too many would want to participate, but enough to move the circle of energy forwards. So having set the precedent here is the truth of things:
EGG DROP SOUP
Once upon a time there were seven seriously demented adults close to senility who embarked on the most absurd of missions: to find the pot of gold at the end of an island that was seriously damaged in a recent hurricane the size of which was enough to make sustainability on that formidable property near impossible. It had now become a permanently shifting bird sanctuary whose only natural resource is droppings, feathers and rubbish.
The seven took off and immediately ran into torrential horrific downpour followed by blistering 100 degree weather only to be followed by 90 mile an hour winds and 17 foot waves with troughs so deep that mere mortals would be lost to the deep eternally. This motley crew knew no fear (or sensibility) and proceeded on by the feverous quest of more debris and bird droppings. After many days at sea with little to no provisions they finally embarked on their dream quest, the isle of wrong, a desolate area ideally suited to the asylum they so sought from wirrings and frivolity of the nonsensical nuances of the Saturday afternoon fever………football!
It was their strongest desire to remove themselves from one of the 7 deadly sins of the modern age and thinking thus they rejoiced exuberantly as they set about building Fort Absurd. It was only a matter of 6 months before the fort was finally finished, complete with running water, wind power and dancing women. The latter were captured from a passing pirate ship that had recently pillaged and plundered a nunnery in the high desert along the coastal front.
Now set for the coming winter the festive crew embarked on more efficient projects that could ensure long happy days of comfort. One of the more creative of the repasts was a recycling business started by brint known as “table topping.” This creative repast led to many festive occasions of luxurious dining and cooking classes, which I must admit I had a serious hand in. Another favorite past time was road construction and sanitary sewer design.
After 6 more months the “motleys” started to notice a serious lack of morale among the crew and were fraught with concern for their safety and well-being. The women all proved to be barren except for a fair haired young extremely warming lass named Alice who proved to be an ample bed partner, but maybe, that is too detailed for this report and should be saved for another journey.
So, early one morning and led by yours truly (the first serious deserter) the crew worked their way back to civilization and found that, in truth, the world had not changed. They were in part relieved to know that there is a constance in the world and that there still was football and beer and lies. And, oh yes, there was a pot of gold there somewhere because the rainbow’s end upon leaving shone right on that site.
You can visit Fort Absurd on your internet: www.whitehouse.com.; it has now been taken over by an even more absurd crew.
Egg drop soup!
(sung to the song “four rode on”) Dauphin Island Paddle
7 rode on,
Rode on high
Waves so big you could hardly see
The sky!
The reports will vary,
That’s for sure.
Only the big boys
know the truth…and who’s full of …manure.
There were seven of us
Who braved the squall
And 7 came home
Standing that tall!
It was a weekend
That will be remembered
By the 7 who rode on,
And the truth somewhere will be…long gone.
We rode big waves
And gusts a plenty
Tents flying in the air….
Should have been a documentary.
But it was a testament
To strength,
Courage
And endurance.
At one point
I wondered…
Did I have enough
insurance?
Larry planned this trip
Real well,
It wasn’t his fault
That the weather went …to Hell!
But Sunday brought
good
Cheers for
My birthday.
And it turned
Out to be a beautiful one,
A great
Anniversary!
Thanks to one and all,
For making this paddle
Stand
Tall!
No matter what size
The waves,
And how strong
The wind…
Some of us will remember
This story with a
Snort and
A grin.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Robinson Bayou - Annual Club Fall Picnic and Paddle
Saturday, November 13, 2004
This late afternoon paddle took place as part of the MBCAKC annual paddle and picnic. Gary and Aven Warner were our gracious hosts for the festivities, opening up their home to all, and letting us use their floating dock to launch our little flotilla of kayaks and canoes. They live on Riverside Drive, which is off of Dauphin Island Parkway, west of Brookley Airport.
Their property circles a beautiful point on the south or east side of Dog River looking out to a large island of swamp grasses, and the forest beyond on the opposite bank. It is a surprisingly picturesqe setting in south Mobile. After assembling our many different boats by the ramp, we finally launched about 10 boats with 18 or so enthusiatic paddlers in the water, and were paddling by about 3:30 PM. It was overcast and about 62 degrees with a slight breeze.
We started out circling the point and heading east and south into a narrow bayou. We saw various waterfowl and a few blooming burr marigolds and duck potato, as we tried to keep up with Bob's war canoe and Dick's and Marilyn's sleek new kayaks. When we hit the end of the creek, we reversed course and turned east into Robinson Bayou. This is a beautiful, remote area winding back for almost a mile towards DIP and the southern end of Brookley Airport.
After exiting Robinson Bayou, we crossed Dog River and circled around a beautiful island with a narrow waterway around the north side, and ended back at the Warner's. While most boats were taken out, several paddlers had to try out Dick Becker's new Australian-made 19' kevlar kayak.
With everyone's appetite worked up, we all dug into the wide array of potluck dishes laid out inside. Particular thanks go to Aven for her large homemade rolls, delicious barbequed chicken and pork roast. There were almost another twenty members and neighbors who gathered for the evening of fellowship, lies and storytelling. A good time was had by all.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
This late afternoon paddle took place as part of the MBCAKC annual paddle and picnic. Gary and Aven Warner were our gracious hosts for the festivities, opening up their home to all, and letting us use their floating dock to launch our little flotilla of kayaks and canoes. They live on Riverside Drive, which is off of Dauphin Island Parkway, west of Brookley Airport.
Their property circles a beautiful point on the south or east side of Dog River looking out to a large island of swamp grasses, and the forest beyond on the opposite bank. It is a surprisingly picturesqe setting in south Mobile. After assembling our many different boats by the ramp, we finally launched about 10 boats with 18 or so enthusiatic paddlers in the water, and were paddling by about 3:30 PM. It was overcast and about 62 degrees with a slight breeze.
We started out circling the point and heading east and south into a narrow bayou. We saw various waterfowl and a few blooming burr marigolds and duck potato, as we tried to keep up with Bob's war canoe and Dick's and Marilyn's sleek new kayaks. When we hit the end of the creek, we reversed course and turned east into Robinson Bayou. This is a beautiful, remote area winding back for almost a mile towards DIP and the southern end of Brookley Airport.
After exiting Robinson Bayou, we crossed Dog River and circled around a beautiful island with a narrow waterway around the north side, and ended back at the Warner's. While most boats were taken out, several paddlers had to try out Dick Becker's new Australian-made 19' kevlar kayak.
With everyone's appetite worked up, we all dug into the wide array of potluck dishes laid out inside. Particular thanks go to Aven for her large homemade rolls, delicious barbequed chicken and pork roast. There were almost another twenty members and neighbors who gathered for the evening of fellowship, lies and storytelling. A good time was had by all.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Rice Creek to Jug Lake Platform
Sunday, November 7, 2004
by Rich & Carol Gajek
We had an amazing paddle on Sunday, November 7th, and the amazement lasted until Wednesday (and probably beyond).
We planned to catch up with Bob on Sunday morning, on his Jug Lake paddle. We couldn't make the campout, but wanted to check out the camping platform. We got a late start getting to Rice Creek Landing, and Bob had already moved on from his campout, so we missed him. The paddle was an excellent adventure, in any case. We had a peaceful picnic lunch on the platform and watched some kingfishers working the lake. We saw only one mosquito the entire trip. The weather was exquisite and I have never seen the Tensaw so calm. The water level was higher than the last time I was on Jessamine Bayou, so there were less snags to avoid. We actually didn't see
anyone from Rice Creek Landing, all the way to Jug Lake and back to the Tensaw. We saw a couple of fisherman on the Tensaw, and that was it.
When we got back to Rice Creek Landing, we noticed Bob's truck was gone, so we figured he took a different route back from Jug Lake. We were mighty satisfied with our paddle, packed up and headed home.
But the story isn't over. Carol had to bring her car into the shop on Tuesday, when she noticed Bob left a card on our car windshield, with his phone number on it. I was curious to know what route he took (especially if Jessamine was open to Bottle Creek), so I called. Well! Was I surprised when during the course of the conversation, he asked if we missed our paddles. I got Carol to check, and indeed we left the paddles at Rice Creek Landing. Bob told me he received a call from Phil Day, asking him if someone had left kayak paddles at the landing.
I called Phil to inquire and indeed, he had our paddles. He arrived at the landing about 30 minutes after we left, and knew Bob was involved with kayaking. He was worried that if he left the paddles there, someone else would abscond them. Phil kindly told me he would drop off the paddles the next morning. When I tried to give him a reward for his trouble, he declined and said "just pass it on".
It just lets you know what kind of paddling community we have here in southern Alabama. It was just amazing that Bob left his card and number, I called him about his trip, Phil arrived just after we left, and knew to call Bob about the paddles left behind!
Sunday, November 7, 2004
by Rich & Carol Gajek
We had an amazing paddle on Sunday, November 7th, and the amazement lasted until Wednesday (and probably beyond).
We planned to catch up with Bob on Sunday morning, on his Jug Lake paddle. We couldn't make the campout, but wanted to check out the camping platform. We got a late start getting to Rice Creek Landing, and Bob had already moved on from his campout, so we missed him. The paddle was an excellent adventure, in any case. We had a peaceful picnic lunch on the platform and watched some kingfishers working the lake. We saw only one mosquito the entire trip. The weather was exquisite and I have never seen the Tensaw so calm. The water level was higher than the last time I was on Jessamine Bayou, so there were less snags to avoid. We actually didn't see
anyone from Rice Creek Landing, all the way to Jug Lake and back to the Tensaw. We saw a couple of fisherman on the Tensaw, and that was it.
When we got back to Rice Creek Landing, we noticed Bob's truck was gone, so we figured he took a different route back from Jug Lake. We were mighty satisfied with our paddle, packed up and headed home.
But the story isn't over. Carol had to bring her car into the shop on Tuesday, when she noticed Bob left a card on our car windshield, with his phone number on it. I was curious to know what route he took (especially if Jessamine was open to Bottle Creek), so I called. Well! Was I surprised when during the course of the conversation, he asked if we missed our paddles. I got Carol to check, and indeed we left the paddles at Rice Creek Landing. Bob told me he received a call from Phil Day, asking him if someone had left kayak paddles at the landing.
I called Phil to inquire and indeed, he had our paddles. He arrived at the landing about 30 minutes after we left, and knew Bob was involved with kayaking. He was worried that if he left the paddles there, someone else would abscond them. Phil kindly told me he would drop off the paddles the next morning. When I tried to give him a reward for his trouble, he declined and said "just pass it on".
It just lets you know what kind of paddling community we have here in southern Alabama. It was just amazing that Bob left his card and number, I called him about his trip, Phil arrived just after we left, and knew to call Bob about the paddles left behind!
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Rice Creek to Jug Lake platform, Bayou Tallapoosa, Tensaw Lake
Saturday & Sunday, November 6-7, 2004
by Brint Adams
Only the finest of the MBCAKC came out to enjoy the absolutely perfect weather in one of the prettiest spots in the Tensaw Delta. Bob and I started out at different times, but both put in at Rice Creek Landing Saturday afternoon. We found Rice Creek Road is now paved all the way back to the landing, which is a big improvement. The temperature at 1:30 PM was 77 degrees, there was no wind or clouds and the tide was falling.
I went out early and stopped along the cutoff between Briar Lake and Tensaw River to clear away some brush. Bob soon caught up with me and we continued to Bayou Jessamine and were pleasantly surprised to see it was clear up to the fork with Jug Lake. We knew Norman and Tom were coming later to meet us at the platform, so with some time to kill, we decided to continue paddling Bayou Jessamine on to Bottle Creek. After the fork, we were still surprised to see a fairly clear waterway for a good distance. For a while, we thought this area just didn't get much wind damage.
But, our luck changed as we came up against six major falls, one after the other. I cut our way through each, some over, some under and some around. It took us about an hour to go the last half mile, but we didn't have to portage, as we finally made it to Bottle Creek. It was a quick trip back downstream to the turn into Jug Lake. Just as the turn came into view, we came across Norman, who had missed it and was heading towards us up Jessamine.
The four of us leisurely paddled into Jug Lake as the sun started to set. The distance from Rice Creek Landing to the platform is 5 miles, while Bob and I added another 1.2 miles for the afternoon. We set up camp on the floating platform and ate dinner. Norman and Tom stayed around for awhile before heading out after dark to Rice Creek. The night was calm and cool, with the sounds of several owls keeping us company throughout the night.
After a quick breakfast, we packed up and were on the water at 7:20 AM for our second day of paddling. We decided to make a big loop, and were glad we blazed the trail up Jessamine the afternoon before, to make the first part of our paddle much easier.
We made it to Bottle Creek (2.2 mi.) in about 45 minutes and turned north to where it branches out of the Tensaw River. We turned west or upriver against a pretty stiff current and stopped to take a break at the land campsite on the southeast corner of where Middle River forks south from the Tensaw. We talked for awhile with a couple of hunters who were camped there, who had no luck searching for wild boar.
We continued fighting the Tensaw current for another almost three miles up around the curve until we reached Bayou Tallapoosa (4.2 mi. from Bottle Creek @ Bayou Jessamine. There is a large two story cabin way up on pilings on the northeast corner at the mouth of Tallapoosa. About a half mile before reaching Tallapoosa, and without referring to our map, we actually took a false right turn into a creek which was pretty clear and wide, with a good current. We paddled down it for about 0.8 mi., cutting our way through some tree falls and wasting about 40 minutes before deciding we needed to turn back.
Once we made it in Bayou Tallapoosa, the swift current down was a welcome relief after the hard paddle up river so far. Bayou Tallapoosa is a beautiful waterway reminiscent of Jessamine, although it is a little wider, which made it easier to get around the treefalls. We did have to cut our way through a couple, but it is now good to go for kayak trips.
After exiting Tallapoosa, we turned north up the west side of Dead Lake Island on Tensaw Lake for 0.5 mi., to the spot where there are two floating camp platforms. The distance from platform to platform taking this route is just under 10 miles. We stopped for lunch, before heading back down Tensaw Lake and taking the left fork around Richardson Island, down Briar Lake and back to Rice Creek, a distance of 3.2 miles. Our total paddle for the day was approximately 15.2 miles.
Waterfowl watching was plentiful, with numerous sightings of cormorants, wood ducks, egrets and herons, as well as hawks, osprey and many gators. All in all, we had a great weekend of paddling under ideal fall conditions.
Saturday & Sunday, November 6-7, 2004
by Brint Adams
Only the finest of the MBCAKC came out to enjoy the absolutely perfect weather in one of the prettiest spots in the Tensaw Delta. Bob and I started out at different times, but both put in at Rice Creek Landing Saturday afternoon. We found Rice Creek Road is now paved all the way back to the landing, which is a big improvement. The temperature at 1:30 PM was 77 degrees, there was no wind or clouds and the tide was falling.
I went out early and stopped along the cutoff between Briar Lake and Tensaw River to clear away some brush. Bob soon caught up with me and we continued to Bayou Jessamine and were pleasantly surprised to see it was clear up to the fork with Jug Lake. We knew Norman and Tom were coming later to meet us at the platform, so with some time to kill, we decided to continue paddling Bayou Jessamine on to Bottle Creek. After the fork, we were still surprised to see a fairly clear waterway for a good distance. For a while, we thought this area just didn't get much wind damage.
But, our luck changed as we came up against six major falls, one after the other. I cut our way through each, some over, some under and some around. It took us about an hour to go the last half mile, but we didn't have to portage, as we finally made it to Bottle Creek. It was a quick trip back downstream to the turn into Jug Lake. Just as the turn came into view, we came across Norman, who had missed it and was heading towards us up Jessamine.
The four of us leisurely paddled into Jug Lake as the sun started to set. The distance from Rice Creek Landing to the platform is 5 miles, while Bob and I added another 1.2 miles for the afternoon. We set up camp on the floating platform and ate dinner. Norman and Tom stayed around for awhile before heading out after dark to Rice Creek. The night was calm and cool, with the sounds of several owls keeping us company throughout the night.
After a quick breakfast, we packed up and were on the water at 7:20 AM for our second day of paddling. We decided to make a big loop, and were glad we blazed the trail up Jessamine the afternoon before, to make the first part of our paddle much easier.
We made it to Bottle Creek (2.2 mi.) in about 45 minutes and turned north to where it branches out of the Tensaw River. We turned west or upriver against a pretty stiff current and stopped to take a break at the land campsite on the southeast corner of where Middle River forks south from the Tensaw. We talked for awhile with a couple of hunters who were camped there, who had no luck searching for wild boar.
We continued fighting the Tensaw current for another almost three miles up around the curve until we reached Bayou Tallapoosa (4.2 mi. from Bottle Creek @ Bayou Jessamine. There is a large two story cabin way up on pilings on the northeast corner at the mouth of Tallapoosa. About a half mile before reaching Tallapoosa, and without referring to our map, we actually took a false right turn into a creek which was pretty clear and wide, with a good current. We paddled down it for about 0.8 mi., cutting our way through some tree falls and wasting about 40 minutes before deciding we needed to turn back.
Once we made it in Bayou Tallapoosa, the swift current down was a welcome relief after the hard paddle up river so far. Bayou Tallapoosa is a beautiful waterway reminiscent of Jessamine, although it is a little wider, which made it easier to get around the treefalls. We did have to cut our way through a couple, but it is now good to go for kayak trips.
After exiting Tallapoosa, we turned north up the west side of Dead Lake Island on Tensaw Lake for 0.5 mi., to the spot where there are two floating camp platforms. The distance from platform to platform taking this route is just under 10 miles. We stopped for lunch, before heading back down Tensaw Lake and taking the left fork around Richardson Island, down Briar Lake and back to Rice Creek, a distance of 3.2 miles. Our total paddle for the day was approximately 15.2 miles.
Waterfowl watching was plentiful, with numerous sightings of cormorants, wood ducks, egrets and herons, as well as hawks, osprey and many gators. All in all, we had a great weekend of paddling under ideal fall conditions.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
PADDLING CLEAR CREEK & SMITH LAKE, JASPER, AL
October 31, 2004
by Frank Laraway
Having occasion to attend the annual retreat of the Alabama Sierra Club, held at The Episcopal Church's Camp McDowell, I took along my small Neckie kayak on top of my wagon to take advantage of the opportunities to paddle in the rocky white water of northern Alabama.
The area where our conference was to be held is on the SW edge of the Bankhead National Forest, several miles above Jasper. The camp itself is bounded by Clear Creek on its eastern edge. This creek, and its scenic rocky cliffs, are part of the feature of the camp's religious retreat program. Our Sierra meetings occurred on the northern side of the camp, independent of the church's other activities occurring at the same time. The camp and church sponsor a very intense program of environmental education for families and children, as part of their retreat programs.
Because free time at this weekend conference was at a premium, I arrived early in the afternoon and put my kayak in alone, well before formal activities of the retreat were to occur. Access to the creek by boat is difficult, due to the high cliffs that border it. I was able to get my car and boat to within sixty feet of the river at the south end of the camp, but was forced to make a difficult steep entry down a very rocky bank. The put-in was just below the camp impoundment dam, occurring several hundred feet up river.
Cold Creek is, for the most part, shallow except for behind artificial impoundment dams. Below the dam, it was mostly no more than twelve to twenty-four inches deep, due to the abundance of rocks and hard rock bottom. I paddled down river only about a mile, since the sun was beginning to hide behind the high cliffs on the west. The river area is very consistently scenic with high cliffs on both sides.
Beavers are apparently abundant, but not seen. The usual river bird characters kept ahead of my boat and consisted of mostly kingfishers, herons and wood ducks. The trees that occur above and below the canyon are mainly maples, beeches, big leaf magnolias and a variety of oaks. It was not easy getting back up stream before dark, because the river was so shallow, preventing digging in with the paddle.
Getting the boat and equipment back up the steep, rocky bank and on top of a car rack was a challenge also because of being alone. I was forced to resort to the "Julie System" of getting the boat back on the rack. This consists of putting pads on top the car itself, to temporarily rest the boat on, as one gets it up on the rack. Due to the forward location of my back rack, it is impossible for one person to get the bow of the boat directly on the rack at first. The car was on a hill so the boat even slid off once before getting it on the cushioned mounting pads of the racks.
We had a good two day conference, with very good speakers, giving us lectures on local historical geology, flora and fauna and concerning progress in protecting wild and scenic areas of the state. Other lectures, discussions and concerns were of environmental politics, protection against destruction of habitat, clean water and air.
One of the constant efforts of Sierrans is to protect the state against concentrated animal feeding industries, which produce large amounts of animal waste, that pollute the water and air.
Through the efforts of Sierra and other environmental groups, Alabama now offers the option to buy Forever Wild car license plates, the money going to purchase scenic wild land areas, in order to protect them from development. This income is supplemented with income from the state petroleum gas tax well fund, and has made it possible to acquire much scenic land, especially down here in the delta of south Alabama.
After the conference was over on Sunday, I had planned to drive north into the Bankhead Forest and paddle one leg of the Sipsie. Lacking time, I elected to drive a few miles south of the camp instead, to paddle Smith Lake as I headed for south Alabama.
The park at this western edge of Smith Lake, has good facilities, including a long and steep boat ramp for putting in boats. Smith is located at the south end of the same Clear Creek, and is water that is impounded by Alabama Power Company to generate power. It is, in some places, 300' deep indicating that the river worked for many years, removing rock grain by grain, as it traveled to the Gulf basin. During the Ice Age of over 10,000 years ago, the ocean was at least 40-60 feet lower than it is today.
The lake is bordered all around by the same sandstone cliffs seen further up Clear Creek. Wherever rain creeks fall over these cliffs, with time, the water and ice erode the rock away to form extensive overhanging roofs of rock, creating cliff caves. Some of these caves can be quite extensive and have been shelters for native Americans back through hundreds of years. At each one of these spill-overs and caves, a small bay or creek cut-in is formed in the banks, due to this erosive action, having occurred for thousands of years. These rocky cliffs and woods are so scenic, that it pays to get out of the boat from time to time to hike the borders of the lake.
My planned schedule, forced me to get back to my car at about 11:00 AM to drive south the almost 300 miles, in order to attemd a 6:00 PM Halloween party.
The shortest route to the Mobile Bay area from here, is first to take highway 195 to Jasper, then 69 to Tuscaloosa and its western toll by-pass, to the 20-59 expressway and highway 43 to Mobile. It is four-lane from Thomasville to I-65 and 195 into the city.
Northern Alabama above Montgomery offers interesting options for paddling and camping. However, it is time consuming to drive that far and difficult to find good landings for stream boating. Due to the rock floor of the area, the streams are more rocky, challenging and scenic, so it is worth the trouble.
October 31, 2004
by Frank Laraway
Having occasion to attend the annual retreat of the Alabama Sierra Club, held at The Episcopal Church's Camp McDowell, I took along my small Neckie kayak on top of my wagon to take advantage of the opportunities to paddle in the rocky white water of northern Alabama.
The area where our conference was to be held is on the SW edge of the Bankhead National Forest, several miles above Jasper. The camp itself is bounded by Clear Creek on its eastern edge. This creek, and its scenic rocky cliffs, are part of the feature of the camp's religious retreat program. Our Sierra meetings occurred on the northern side of the camp, independent of the church's other activities occurring at the same time. The camp and church sponsor a very intense program of environmental education for families and children, as part of their retreat programs.
Because free time at this weekend conference was at a premium, I arrived early in the afternoon and put my kayak in alone, well before formal activities of the retreat were to occur. Access to the creek by boat is difficult, due to the high cliffs that border it. I was able to get my car and boat to within sixty feet of the river at the south end of the camp, but was forced to make a difficult steep entry down a very rocky bank. The put-in was just below the camp impoundment dam, occurring several hundred feet up river.
Cold Creek is, for the most part, shallow except for behind artificial impoundment dams. Below the dam, it was mostly no more than twelve to twenty-four inches deep, due to the abundance of rocks and hard rock bottom. I paddled down river only about a mile, since the sun was beginning to hide behind the high cliffs on the west. The river area is very consistently scenic with high cliffs on both sides.
Beavers are apparently abundant, but not seen. The usual river bird characters kept ahead of my boat and consisted of mostly kingfishers, herons and wood ducks. The trees that occur above and below the canyon are mainly maples, beeches, big leaf magnolias and a variety of oaks. It was not easy getting back up stream before dark, because the river was so shallow, preventing digging in with the paddle.
Getting the boat and equipment back up the steep, rocky bank and on top of a car rack was a challenge also because of being alone. I was forced to resort to the "Julie System" of getting the boat back on the rack. This consists of putting pads on top the car itself, to temporarily rest the boat on, as one gets it up on the rack. Due to the forward location of my back rack, it is impossible for one person to get the bow of the boat directly on the rack at first. The car was on a hill so the boat even slid off once before getting it on the cushioned mounting pads of the racks.
We had a good two day conference, with very good speakers, giving us lectures on local historical geology, flora and fauna and concerning progress in protecting wild and scenic areas of the state. Other lectures, discussions and concerns were of environmental politics, protection against destruction of habitat, clean water and air.
One of the constant efforts of Sierrans is to protect the state against concentrated animal feeding industries, which produce large amounts of animal waste, that pollute the water and air.
Through the efforts of Sierra and other environmental groups, Alabama now offers the option to buy Forever Wild car license plates, the money going to purchase scenic wild land areas, in order to protect them from development. This income is supplemented with income from the state petroleum gas tax well fund, and has made it possible to acquire much scenic land, especially down here in the delta of south Alabama.
After the conference was over on Sunday, I had planned to drive north into the Bankhead Forest and paddle one leg of the Sipsie. Lacking time, I elected to drive a few miles south of the camp instead, to paddle Smith Lake as I headed for south Alabama.
The park at this western edge of Smith Lake, has good facilities, including a long and steep boat ramp for putting in boats. Smith is located at the south end of the same Clear Creek, and is water that is impounded by Alabama Power Company to generate power. It is, in some places, 300' deep indicating that the river worked for many years, removing rock grain by grain, as it traveled to the Gulf basin. During the Ice Age of over 10,000 years ago, the ocean was at least 40-60 feet lower than it is today.
The lake is bordered all around by the same sandstone cliffs seen further up Clear Creek. Wherever rain creeks fall over these cliffs, with time, the water and ice erode the rock away to form extensive overhanging roofs of rock, creating cliff caves. Some of these caves can be quite extensive and have been shelters for native Americans back through hundreds of years. At each one of these spill-overs and caves, a small bay or creek cut-in is formed in the banks, due to this erosive action, having occurred for thousands of years. These rocky cliffs and woods are so scenic, that it pays to get out of the boat from time to time to hike the borders of the lake.
My planned schedule, forced me to get back to my car at about 11:00 AM to drive south the almost 300 miles, in order to attemd a 6:00 PM Halloween party.
The shortest route to the Mobile Bay area from here, is first to take highway 195 to Jasper, then 69 to Tuscaloosa and its western toll by-pass, to the 20-59 expressway and highway 43 to Mobile. It is four-lane from Thomasville to I-65 and 195 into the city.
Northern Alabama above Montgomery offers interesting options for paddling and camping. However, it is time consuming to drive that far and difficult to find good landings for stream boating. Due to the rock floor of the area, the streams are more rocky, challenging and scenic, so it is worth the trouble.
Monday, November 01, 2004
Phatwater Kayak Challenge
Grand Gulf to Natchez, MS
Saturday, October 9, 2004
Two perspectives by Tom Fink & Brint Adams
Tom Fink writes:
I have never paddled so hard for so long and enjoyed myself so much! In one sentence that is my opinion of this truly great event. Keith Benoist and his volunteers put on an absolutely first class event that serious racers (not me, at least not this year), dedicated paddlers (that's me), and rec. boaters, and even spectators (my wife) could truly enjoy. Well let me back up now and give a view of the Phat from a not yet serious racer.
Several months ago I thought I would practice like crazy and put the paddling world on notice! I even bought a long boat (19'1" according to the specs.) with a name so long it had to be fast, that is the Kajak Sport Avalon Viviane Expedition. When I finally got my dream boat not only was it damaged and with the bulkheads leaking, but by god it did not feel fast. When I paddled it there was no fast swooshing sound, no magical glide....... I am sure it is faster than my plastic Looksha 4 but I could not just feeeeeeeeeel it. Oh well, I decided to fix the bulkheads and after several tries I was successful (over a week with no paddling).
Now to practice. Well I did some, but in the 5 weeks prior to the event I attended the week long International Mayfly/Stonefly Conference in Montana (no Kayaking!), week after was termite work (little kayaking), then a Freestyle Canoe Symposium in Ohio (no kayaking), then a long drive back to Mobile and Slidell from Ohio to prepare two houses for a potentially devastating Ivan. So Ivan caused me to lose about another 10 days of no paddling. Finally I paddled to Horn and East Ship to salvage some of my lost vacation due to Ivan (although it caused small craft warnings for me when it circled back through the Gulf). So the longest "practice" paddle for the Phat was the 11 mile crossing from East Ship to Biloxi. Well by this time if I actually made it to the Phat I was just going to "Experience It".
I almost missed the Phat. I mentally moved it one week after it's true date. When I finally realized my mistake I did not know if I could go. My mother was going into the hospital to graft skin to cover an infectious wound so big it looked like she got into a machete fight in Haiti. She maybe was going to be discharged Friday (Saturday Oct. 9 was the race) or Monday. Well I still thought I would go.....maybe, but arriving home from work the camp house deck in Slidell was flooded from the mysterious (to me) tropical storm Matthew. I cleared the deck but was worried that Ruth's car (she drove in from Mobile) might get flooded while we were away. Well I did not think a wimpy tropical storm would raise the water quite enough to flood the car, so I loaded the boat, we drove to the hospital one last time, then drove to Natchez by way of Baton Rouge and route 61 which parallels the Mississippi. It rained for most of the 3.5 hour trip, and as it turns out one headlight was out.
We finally checked into the Isle of Capri Hotel at 10:30 PM. Ate at the Casino just before midnight to past midnight, and I did not get to bed before 2:30 AM. Wow, this is no way to prepare for the great Phat River Race!!! We never made it to the Under the Hill Saloon, but Keith said we could register at the put-in.
The next morning about 5+ AM we followed a kayaking family from Dallas, Texas to the put-in which they had scouted the day before. It took about an hour to make the drive. Breakfast was a banana that I hoped might keep me from cramping.
Around 6:40 to 7 AM a lot more people arrived at the put-in, and it was truly looking like a big event. You could even then feel the excitement, but at the same time there was a very convivial spirit that everyone seemed to share. Two good paddling buddies showed up from Mississippi, Cy Tandy and Charles. Charles has just built a gorgeous cedar strip tandem, which even included a beautiful cutout of a dolphin on the bow. There were all kinds of boats there: surf skis, K1 racing kayaks, Seda Gliders, canoes (even white water canoes), and rec kayaks that I wouldn't take out of a small pond.
About 7:30ish there was the safety talk by Keith Benoist (the race organizer for every year). I was a little concerned about the commercial barge traffic that he mentioned to be aware of. He also mentioned that there were 12 (I think he said 12) volunteer safety boats. As it turned out they did an excellent job of monitoring kayaks and canoes during the entire race, even offering gator aid and water to us.
We loaded boats shortly after the safety talk into a quiet lagoon like area where you could paddle around and relax. At 8:15 AM the race began! No way was I going to sprint at the start and blow myself up in the first mile. However, the racing atmosphere was so pervasive that you couldn't help but paddle hard, and so I picked up my pace and started picking off those ahead. Of course, the competitive boats got ahead very quickly and it wasn't long before I could not see them.
After about a half hour or 45 minutes (or maybe an hour?) the pecking order was pretty much established, and I chased one boater far ahead for hours and could not catch him. My tandem buddies were in sight for the first 2/3 of the race. Much of the race I paddled alone. The first hour went by pretty quick and amazingly we got to our first major landmark, St. Joseph elevator, which was more than 1/4 of the way through the course. Wow I thought, I am really going to finish this.
The current is really fast. You absolutely do not want to get close to the buoys or any other obstruction in the river or the current could easily wrap your boat around any obstruction with "crunching" results.
Choosing the fastest line in the race is really a challenge. It is not true that the middle of the river is always the fastest. Much of the time it is, but since the water current moves in a straight line when the current comes from a straight section of the river to a curve the water then moves fastest where the current sweeps the curve. I watched my tandem friends take a line around such a curve and though they paddled a much longer distance, they soon greatly left me in the dust. Then later they choose a poor line and I caught them, at least for awhile. The problem in a kayak is that it is hard to tell curves since you are so low. It is also hard to tell islands from sandbars, again due to the low visual angle in a kayak.
The barges were never a problem. Luckily no barge was moving in our direction. That would be the spookiest since they would then be moving faster, and it would be harder to watch them while they were behind us. I only saw about a half dozen barges. I am sure it was not 10-12, but not sure of the exact number. The barges moving upstream were on our river left, and they were easy to avoid. Passing within several hundred feet was really no problem, and their wake was not bad at all.
The Mississippi River is really quite beautiful and certainly impressive. The entire course from Grand Gulf, Ms. to Natchez is heavily wooded along the banks. There are some very nice sandbars and Islands. Since the water level was very high, many of the sandbars were under water.
At two hours of paddling I still felt great, I could not believe it. I can remember while much younger in running races how every step seemed tortuous, but this was not the case here.
At three hours I still felt great.
At 3.5 hours I did not feel quite so great. My arms and hands were getting crampy and I was afraid I would fully cramp up. So I let up a bit, and tried to drink a good amount of my gator aid. I also tried to eat my Mars bars (none of that terrible tasting high energy gel stuff for me) for energy. Luckily at about 4 hours I felt better and picked up my pace. By golly, I could not let the person in back of me pass me. They were steadily gaining while I was declining, so it felt good to increase the pace.
From 4-5 hours the time seemed to go a little slow, but it was not bad. Around 4.5 hours I could see the bend holding Natchez. The point I was aiming for however kept on eluding me, it seemed I would never reach it. At that time the head winds were very strong so I moved closer to shore to try to get some protection.
I finally saw the Isle of Capri Casino boat. I knew the ramp was near it, but not exactly since we never made it to the Saloon near the take-out before the race. So I made a beeline for the boat. I could soon see what looked like a ramp upstream of the casino boat so I then made a new beeline for the supposed ramp. Unfortunately, I had moved so far to the middle of the river that I was worried that I would get swept past the ramp. When several hundred feet from the ramp I could finally see people and I had to paddle very hard to avoid being swept past the ramp. I just barely made it.
At the ramp volunteers grabbed my boat and pulled me up the ramp on a rug. I was a little unsteady for a few steps after not walking for 5hours, 17 minutes and 42 seconds. The wonderful volunteers then pumped out my boat and hauled it up the very steep and long ramp. Amazingly I still felt good, not exhausted like I thought I would. Nothing even hurt, my muscles did not hurt at all. Sure there was a blanket of tiredness, but not an overwhelming one. I really did feel an elation of sorts for finishing the amazing Phat River Race of 2004.
It was really a very festive and again convivial atmosphere at the take-out. Lots of people offered to help with boats. After a quick shower at our nearby Isle of Capri Hotel (a very nice hotel with a beautiful view of the Mississippi River from the windows, all for only $49.00 a night) we went back to feast on the event provided lasagna, salad, and chocolate chip cookies. The lasagna was some of the best I have ever had. There was also lots of beer for those so inclined.
The awards ceremony was a little anticlimactic only because the rain had just restarted (after stopping for the entire race) and the race organizers could not use the great sound system that the Red Bull energy drink company had provided in their bull like truck. Amazingly much of the awards went to paddlers in their 40s to 60s.
In all it was a wonderful day. I think everyone enjoyed themselves, no matter what craft they paddled or what shape they were in. Despite the great length of this paddle it really is doable for all types of paddlers.
To be competitive for the Phat I really think you need a long boat, a light efficient paddle, consistent hard practice for months, and you need to follow the most efficient line through the course. You need to follow the fastest current. To be less competitive you can do a whole lot less, like I did.
After the awards we drove around Natchez which has some wonderful old houses, including some antebellum mansions. We ate that night at the very nice local Magnolia Grill restaurant near the Under the Hill Saloon and near the race take-out.
The next morning we left for Baton Rouge and eventually Slidell. Route 61 between Natchez and Baton Rouge is worth a revisit some day to see the many antebellum mansions which are advertised by signs along the road.
You may direct comments to: Tom Fink
Brint Adams writes:
All I can say is WOW!!! The long, extremely hot workouts on Mobile Bay and in the delta over the past four months were definately worth it. Paddling the Mississippi River was challenging, exciting, exhausting and satisfying with beautiful scenery around every corner. But, since this was a race, the end result was equally important to me. I bettered all expectations and goals set for myself six months ago when I decided to enter and train for this race. When it was all over, I finished in 5th place overall in 4:39:24 and in 2nd place in my boat category.
Linda and I left Spanish Fort Friday afternoon, the day before the race, and traveled I-10 to I-12 to Hammond, LA, north on I-55 and west to Natchez, MS, taking 4.5 hours. After checking in to our motel, we went to the east bank of the Mississippi in downtown Natchez and found our way down to the area called Under The Hill. The check-in was in the Under The Hill Saloon which has a great view across the River and overlooking the Isle of Capri Riverboat Casino. From this point, you can look north straight up the river for as far as you can see. The next day after the race, we found out one can actually see upriver for over 13 miles with a telescope. After checking in, getting last minute instructions for race morning and recommendations for dinner, we left to go back to the motel to rest for an hour.
We decided to try Pearl Street Pasta in downtown Natchez for dinner and it was an excellent choice. I got plenty of carbo loading in preparation for the next day. Afterwards, it was to bed early and back up at 4:30 AM. Without any locking system for my kayak, I decided to put it in our motel room, which was on the ground floor with an outside entrance. So, with the kayak stretching from just inside the door all the way to under the sink, we had to be careful getting up in the middle of the night.
When we arrived to meet caravan heading up to the start near Grand Gulf, MS, we were a little apprehensive about the weather with tropical storm Matthew heading our way. When we arrived at the Claiborne County Port boat ramp a little before 7:00 AM, the morning light started out very dim and gray. It was very breezy with a misty rain and threatening skies. After hearing safety instructions, all boats were put into the small bay, where we warmed up and waited for the start. At about 8:15 AM, the gun went off for about 50 boats of all varying sizes, shapes and colors. There were surf skis, a couple of real K-1 racing kayaks, tandem kayaks, plastic rec kayaks, along with several canoes. The most popular boat on the water was the same as I had, the Seda Glider.
We got off to a pretty safe start, knowing we had a long way to go, with no need to get into a sprint mode right away. It was obvious from the start that without any mishaps, there were three boats out in front,who were going to fight for the top places. Following them was Richard Savoie, the champion from the past two years. The next group of four paddlers including me, tried to keep the frontrunners in view for as long as we could. I knew with all of the experience Richard had on this course, he was who I wanted to focus on as long as I could keep him in sight.
After the first several miles, I still had Richard in view, with Keith Benoist, the race director, starting to pull ahead of me. Just behind me were two others, with a large gap ever lengthening back to the next group. The surface of the water was fairly flat at the start and was not bothersome. It was difficult to gauge how fast we were going until we passed the large buoys. It amazed me to see the water rushing past them, and then how fast we went by. I just got into a good paddle rhythm and concentrated on my breathing rate. I went into my mind state where I counted strokes per breath, which reminded me about every half hour to drink and/or eat a GU gel packet.
As we paddled downriver, we passed river lights on opposite banks about every two miles as well as about 7-8 sets of pile and stone dikes around the curves for shore protection and to maintain consistent boat navigation. The idea was to stay away from the dikes, as they caused turbulence and slower current. So, I tried to stay near the navigation buoys where the water was swiftest, but out of the way of the barge traffic. We encountered about 10-12 large barges, the largest was five wide by about ten long, with a huge tug boat pushing it upriver and causing some large turbulence and wake action. In the lower half of the course, the wind increased and pretty well came straight out of the south and directly in our faces. Fortunately, the rain held off during the whole race, and with the heavy cloud cover, the 72 degree temperature never was a factor.
At about this point, I pulled away from the other two paddlers who had been right with me up to that point. With about ten miles to go, I started to close the gap with the one paddler still in sight. He decided to get closer to the east bank, trying to get out of the direct wind and the wave action coming upriver towards us. I stayed out in the middle of the river where the current was swifter and ever so slightly pulled ahead of him. We were still neck and neck as we could see the river bluffs of downtown Natchez about five miles off in the distance. This is where I decided to really pick up my stroke pace a little more and took the more direct route rather than closer to the east bank. We were probably about 100 meters apart horizontally, while I was maybe only 10-20 meters ahead. With the water moving so rapidly downriver, I made sure I aimed towards the shore well upriver from the Natchez Under The Hill boat ramp. As it turned out, I aimed well and did not overshoot the finish line. In one of the closest finishes, I was able to beat the next guy by 40 seconds, after following him for most of the 45 miles.
When I hit the finish line, I was pretty exhausted and barely able to get out of my kayak. I stumbled around and needed some help just to get my balance before I could walk up the hill to the saloon. It was definately a sweet finish to a great day of paddling on such an awesome river.
Once all of the boats came in, taking well over 6.5 hours, we had the awards ceremony, which by that time took place in a light rain. The top finishers were as follows:
Male:
1st - 4:22:02 - Win Nouwen, Memphis, TN (from Holland)
2nd - 4:26:08 - David Bartell, Montgomery, TX
3rd - 4:32:46 - Richard Savoie, Des Allemands, LA
4th - 4:35:59 - Shawn Wilber, New Orleans, LA
5th - 4:39:24 - Brint Adams, Spanish Fort, AL
6th - 4:40:04 - Keith Benoist, Natchez, MS
7th - 4:49:00 - Jeb Berry, Gulfport, MS
8th - 4:49:23 - Chris Marmande, Houma, LA
9th - 4:49:39 - Don Chesler, Edmond, OK
10th- 5:01:20 - William Reitzer-Smith, Addison, TX
Female:
1st - 5:19:19 - Ann Reitzer-Smith, Addison, TX
You may direct comments to: Brint Adams
Grand Gulf to Natchez, MS
Saturday, October 9, 2004
Two perspectives by Tom Fink & Brint Adams
Tom Fink writes:
I have never paddled so hard for so long and enjoyed myself so much! In one sentence that is my opinion of this truly great event. Keith Benoist and his volunteers put on an absolutely first class event that serious racers (not me, at least not this year), dedicated paddlers (that's me), and rec. boaters, and even spectators (my wife) could truly enjoy. Well let me back up now and give a view of the Phat from a not yet serious racer.
Several months ago I thought I would practice like crazy and put the paddling world on notice! I even bought a long boat (19'1" according to the specs.) with a name so long it had to be fast, that is the Kajak Sport Avalon Viviane Expedition. When I finally got my dream boat not only was it damaged and with the bulkheads leaking, but by god it did not feel fast. When I paddled it there was no fast swooshing sound, no magical glide....... I am sure it is faster than my plastic Looksha 4 but I could not just feeeeeeeeeel it. Oh well, I decided to fix the bulkheads and after several tries I was successful (over a week with no paddling).
Now to practice. Well I did some, but in the 5 weeks prior to the event I attended the week long International Mayfly/Stonefly Conference in Montana (no Kayaking!), week after was termite work (little kayaking), then a Freestyle Canoe Symposium in Ohio (no kayaking), then a long drive back to Mobile and Slidell from Ohio to prepare two houses for a potentially devastating Ivan. So Ivan caused me to lose about another 10 days of no paddling. Finally I paddled to Horn and East Ship to salvage some of my lost vacation due to Ivan (although it caused small craft warnings for me when it circled back through the Gulf). So the longest "practice" paddle for the Phat was the 11 mile crossing from East Ship to Biloxi. Well by this time if I actually made it to the Phat I was just going to "Experience It".
I almost missed the Phat. I mentally moved it one week after it's true date. When I finally realized my mistake I did not know if I could go. My mother was going into the hospital to graft skin to cover an infectious wound so big it looked like she got into a machete fight in Haiti. She maybe was going to be discharged Friday (Saturday Oct. 9 was the race) or Monday. Well I still thought I would go.....maybe, but arriving home from work the camp house deck in Slidell was flooded from the mysterious (to me) tropical storm Matthew. I cleared the deck but was worried that Ruth's car (she drove in from Mobile) might get flooded while we were away. Well I did not think a wimpy tropical storm would raise the water quite enough to flood the car, so I loaded the boat, we drove to the hospital one last time, then drove to Natchez by way of Baton Rouge and route 61 which parallels the Mississippi. It rained for most of the 3.5 hour trip, and as it turns out one headlight was out.
We finally checked into the Isle of Capri Hotel at 10:30 PM. Ate at the Casino just before midnight to past midnight, and I did not get to bed before 2:30 AM. Wow, this is no way to prepare for the great Phat River Race!!! We never made it to the Under the Hill Saloon, but Keith said we could register at the put-in.
The next morning about 5+ AM we followed a kayaking family from Dallas, Texas to the put-in which they had scouted the day before. It took about an hour to make the drive. Breakfast was a banana that I hoped might keep me from cramping.
Around 6:40 to 7 AM a lot more people arrived at the put-in, and it was truly looking like a big event. You could even then feel the excitement, but at the same time there was a very convivial spirit that everyone seemed to share. Two good paddling buddies showed up from Mississippi, Cy Tandy and Charles. Charles has just built a gorgeous cedar strip tandem, which even included a beautiful cutout of a dolphin on the bow. There were all kinds of boats there: surf skis, K1 racing kayaks, Seda Gliders, canoes (even white water canoes), and rec kayaks that I wouldn't take out of a small pond.
About 7:30ish there was the safety talk by Keith Benoist (the race organizer for every year). I was a little concerned about the commercial barge traffic that he mentioned to be aware of. He also mentioned that there were 12 (I think he said 12) volunteer safety boats. As it turned out they did an excellent job of monitoring kayaks and canoes during the entire race, even offering gator aid and water to us.
We loaded boats shortly after the safety talk into a quiet lagoon like area where you could paddle around and relax. At 8:15 AM the race began! No way was I going to sprint at the start and blow myself up in the first mile. However, the racing atmosphere was so pervasive that you couldn't help but paddle hard, and so I picked up my pace and started picking off those ahead. Of course, the competitive boats got ahead very quickly and it wasn't long before I could not see them.
After about a half hour or 45 minutes (or maybe an hour?) the pecking order was pretty much established, and I chased one boater far ahead for hours and could not catch him. My tandem buddies were in sight for the first 2/3 of the race. Much of the race I paddled alone. The first hour went by pretty quick and amazingly we got to our first major landmark, St. Joseph elevator, which was more than 1/4 of the way through the course. Wow I thought, I am really going to finish this.
The current is really fast. You absolutely do not want to get close to the buoys or any other obstruction in the river or the current could easily wrap your boat around any obstruction with "crunching" results.
Choosing the fastest line in the race is really a challenge. It is not true that the middle of the river is always the fastest. Much of the time it is, but since the water current moves in a straight line when the current comes from a straight section of the river to a curve the water then moves fastest where the current sweeps the curve. I watched my tandem friends take a line around such a curve and though they paddled a much longer distance, they soon greatly left me in the dust. Then later they choose a poor line and I caught them, at least for awhile. The problem in a kayak is that it is hard to tell curves since you are so low. It is also hard to tell islands from sandbars, again due to the low visual angle in a kayak.
The barges were never a problem. Luckily no barge was moving in our direction. That would be the spookiest since they would then be moving faster, and it would be harder to watch them while they were behind us. I only saw about a half dozen barges. I am sure it was not 10-12, but not sure of the exact number. The barges moving upstream were on our river left, and they were easy to avoid. Passing within several hundred feet was really no problem, and their wake was not bad at all.
The Mississippi River is really quite beautiful and certainly impressive. The entire course from Grand Gulf, Ms. to Natchez is heavily wooded along the banks. There are some very nice sandbars and Islands. Since the water level was very high, many of the sandbars were under water.
At two hours of paddling I still felt great, I could not believe it. I can remember while much younger in running races how every step seemed tortuous, but this was not the case here.
At three hours I still felt great.
At 3.5 hours I did not feel quite so great. My arms and hands were getting crampy and I was afraid I would fully cramp up. So I let up a bit, and tried to drink a good amount of my gator aid. I also tried to eat my Mars bars (none of that terrible tasting high energy gel stuff for me) for energy. Luckily at about 4 hours I felt better and picked up my pace. By golly, I could not let the person in back of me pass me. They were steadily gaining while I was declining, so it felt good to increase the pace.
From 4-5 hours the time seemed to go a little slow, but it was not bad. Around 4.5 hours I could see the bend holding Natchez. The point I was aiming for however kept on eluding me, it seemed I would never reach it. At that time the head winds were very strong so I moved closer to shore to try to get some protection.
I finally saw the Isle of Capri Casino boat. I knew the ramp was near it, but not exactly since we never made it to the Saloon near the take-out before the race. So I made a beeline for the boat. I could soon see what looked like a ramp upstream of the casino boat so I then made a new beeline for the supposed ramp. Unfortunately, I had moved so far to the middle of the river that I was worried that I would get swept past the ramp. When several hundred feet from the ramp I could finally see people and I had to paddle very hard to avoid being swept past the ramp. I just barely made it.
At the ramp volunteers grabbed my boat and pulled me up the ramp on a rug. I was a little unsteady for a few steps after not walking for 5hours, 17 minutes and 42 seconds. The wonderful volunteers then pumped out my boat and hauled it up the very steep and long ramp. Amazingly I still felt good, not exhausted like I thought I would. Nothing even hurt, my muscles did not hurt at all. Sure there was a blanket of tiredness, but not an overwhelming one. I really did feel an elation of sorts for finishing the amazing Phat River Race of 2004.
It was really a very festive and again convivial atmosphere at the take-out. Lots of people offered to help with boats. After a quick shower at our nearby Isle of Capri Hotel (a very nice hotel with a beautiful view of the Mississippi River from the windows, all for only $49.00 a night) we went back to feast on the event provided lasagna, salad, and chocolate chip cookies. The lasagna was some of the best I have ever had. There was also lots of beer for those so inclined.
The awards ceremony was a little anticlimactic only because the rain had just restarted (after stopping for the entire race) and the race organizers could not use the great sound system that the Red Bull energy drink company had provided in their bull like truck. Amazingly much of the awards went to paddlers in their 40s to 60s.
In all it was a wonderful day. I think everyone enjoyed themselves, no matter what craft they paddled or what shape they were in. Despite the great length of this paddle it really is doable for all types of paddlers.
To be competitive for the Phat I really think you need a long boat, a light efficient paddle, consistent hard practice for months, and you need to follow the most efficient line through the course. You need to follow the fastest current. To be less competitive you can do a whole lot less, like I did.
After the awards we drove around Natchez which has some wonderful old houses, including some antebellum mansions. We ate that night at the very nice local Magnolia Grill restaurant near the Under the Hill Saloon and near the race take-out.
The next morning we left for Baton Rouge and eventually Slidell. Route 61 between Natchez and Baton Rouge is worth a revisit some day to see the many antebellum mansions which are advertised by signs along the road.
You may direct comments to: Tom Fink
Brint Adams writes:
All I can say is WOW!!! The long, extremely hot workouts on Mobile Bay and in the delta over the past four months were definately worth it. Paddling the Mississippi River was challenging, exciting, exhausting and satisfying with beautiful scenery around every corner. But, since this was a race, the end result was equally important to me. I bettered all expectations and goals set for myself six months ago when I decided to enter and train for this race. When it was all over, I finished in 5th place overall in 4:39:24 and in 2nd place in my boat category.
Linda and I left Spanish Fort Friday afternoon, the day before the race, and traveled I-10 to I-12 to Hammond, LA, north on I-55 and west to Natchez, MS, taking 4.5 hours. After checking in to our motel, we went to the east bank of the Mississippi in downtown Natchez and found our way down to the area called Under The Hill. The check-in was in the Under The Hill Saloon which has a great view across the River and overlooking the Isle of Capri Riverboat Casino. From this point, you can look north straight up the river for as far as you can see. The next day after the race, we found out one can actually see upriver for over 13 miles with a telescope. After checking in, getting last minute instructions for race morning and recommendations for dinner, we left to go back to the motel to rest for an hour.
We decided to try Pearl Street Pasta in downtown Natchez for dinner and it was an excellent choice. I got plenty of carbo loading in preparation for the next day. Afterwards, it was to bed early and back up at 4:30 AM. Without any locking system for my kayak, I decided to put it in our motel room, which was on the ground floor with an outside entrance. So, with the kayak stretching from just inside the door all the way to under the sink, we had to be careful getting up in the middle of the night.
When we arrived to meet caravan heading up to the start near Grand Gulf, MS, we were a little apprehensive about the weather with tropical storm Matthew heading our way. When we arrived at the Claiborne County Port boat ramp a little before 7:00 AM, the morning light started out very dim and gray. It was very breezy with a misty rain and threatening skies. After hearing safety instructions, all boats were put into the small bay, where we warmed up and waited for the start. At about 8:15 AM, the gun went off for about 50 boats of all varying sizes, shapes and colors. There were surf skis, a couple of real K-1 racing kayaks, tandem kayaks, plastic rec kayaks, along with several canoes. The most popular boat on the water was the same as I had, the Seda Glider.
We got off to a pretty safe start, knowing we had a long way to go, with no need to get into a sprint mode right away. It was obvious from the start that without any mishaps, there were three boats out in front,who were going to fight for the top places. Following them was Richard Savoie, the champion from the past two years. The next group of four paddlers including me, tried to keep the frontrunners in view for as long as we could. I knew with all of the experience Richard had on this course, he was who I wanted to focus on as long as I could keep him in sight.
After the first several miles, I still had Richard in view, with Keith Benoist, the race director, starting to pull ahead of me. Just behind me were two others, with a large gap ever lengthening back to the next group. The surface of the water was fairly flat at the start and was not bothersome. It was difficult to gauge how fast we were going until we passed the large buoys. It amazed me to see the water rushing past them, and then how fast we went by. I just got into a good paddle rhythm and concentrated on my breathing rate. I went into my mind state where I counted strokes per breath, which reminded me about every half hour to drink and/or eat a GU gel packet.
As we paddled downriver, we passed river lights on opposite banks about every two miles as well as about 7-8 sets of pile and stone dikes around the curves for shore protection and to maintain consistent boat navigation. The idea was to stay away from the dikes, as they caused turbulence and slower current. So, I tried to stay near the navigation buoys where the water was swiftest, but out of the way of the barge traffic. We encountered about 10-12 large barges, the largest was five wide by about ten long, with a huge tug boat pushing it upriver and causing some large turbulence and wake action. In the lower half of the course, the wind increased and pretty well came straight out of the south and directly in our faces. Fortunately, the rain held off during the whole race, and with the heavy cloud cover, the 72 degree temperature never was a factor.
At about this point, I pulled away from the other two paddlers who had been right with me up to that point. With about ten miles to go, I started to close the gap with the one paddler still in sight. He decided to get closer to the east bank, trying to get out of the direct wind and the wave action coming upriver towards us. I stayed out in the middle of the river where the current was swifter and ever so slightly pulled ahead of him. We were still neck and neck as we could see the river bluffs of downtown Natchez about five miles off in the distance. This is where I decided to really pick up my stroke pace a little more and took the more direct route rather than closer to the east bank. We were probably about 100 meters apart horizontally, while I was maybe only 10-20 meters ahead. With the water moving so rapidly downriver, I made sure I aimed towards the shore well upriver from the Natchez Under The Hill boat ramp. As it turned out, I aimed well and did not overshoot the finish line. In one of the closest finishes, I was able to beat the next guy by 40 seconds, after following him for most of the 45 miles.
When I hit the finish line, I was pretty exhausted and barely able to get out of my kayak. I stumbled around and needed some help just to get my balance before I could walk up the hill to the saloon. It was definately a sweet finish to a great day of paddling on such an awesome river.
Once all of the boats came in, taking well over 6.5 hours, we had the awards ceremony, which by that time took place in a light rain. The top finishers were as follows:
Male:
1st - 4:22:02 - Win Nouwen, Memphis, TN (from Holland)
2nd - 4:26:08 - David Bartell, Montgomery, TX
3rd - 4:32:46 - Richard Savoie, Des Allemands, LA
4th - 4:35:59 - Shawn Wilber, New Orleans, LA
5th - 4:39:24 - Brint Adams, Spanish Fort, AL
6th - 4:40:04 - Keith Benoist, Natchez, MS
7th - 4:49:00 - Jeb Berry, Gulfport, MS
8th - 4:49:23 - Chris Marmande, Houma, LA
9th - 4:49:39 - Don Chesler, Edmond, OK
10th- 5:01:20 - William Reitzer-Smith, Addison, TX
Female:
1st - 5:19:19 - Ann Reitzer-Smith, Addison, TX
You may direct comments to: Brint Adams
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