Paddleboarding the WaterTribe Ultramarathon: Flamingo Style

Fort de Soto camping
Launch day -1

Cape Haze Marina to Snake Island (Venice Inlet) and back, approximately 60 miles. This was Plan B for WaterTribe  2020. At 3 pm, I launched my loaded 14′ board and headed north. Finally, after a year of training, testing gear, and creating routes, I, aka Flamingo, joined the tribe of Kindred Spirits. Kindred Spirits because not everyone considers paddling or sailing the Everglades Challenge (270 miles in 8 days) or the Ultramarathon (62 miles in 35 hours) a vacation.

Launch
Boards and boards lined up for launch
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Gearing up (Photo credit: Chris Sheridan)

Twenty-four hours before, all participants gathered on Fort De Soto’s east beach for briefings and an extensive gear check. If all went well, a flotilla of sailboats, kayaks, and paddleboards would launch at 7 am the next morning, cross Tampa Bay, and continue south. Stiff winds blew as we unloaded boards, boards, and gear, and we all hoped the winds would lie down by the next morning. A small craft advisory would be enough to delay, or worse, cancel the event.

Southwest Florida (Courtesy of NOAA.gov)

The wind did not lie down. Tribers, friends, and family gathered in the predawn darkness, hoping for a 7 am launch. Under cover of twilight, the water looked calm. But it was the swells of Tampa Bay, beyond my line of sight, that concerned me. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that, given these winds. Race director Chief and race manager PaddleDancepeannounced a delay, then another, and ultimately, the option of Plan B. Those in the Everglades Challenge could launch anywhere below Tampa Bay, and Ultramarathoners would do an out-and-back from Camp Haze. Like many, I opted for Plan B. I might not have gone if there was no Plan B. So, Kevin and I packed up and drove to Cape Haze.

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My one picture: Sunset somewhere north of Stump Pass

Nervous energy and excitement propelled me out of Cape Haze Marina and northward. I had no idea whether I could finish the race in time or if I could paddle that far. I had never paddledboarded more than twenty miles in a day and only twice in the dark. But I settled into a comfortable rhythm and recognized landmarks from previous visits. Paddling felt good. To pass the time, I sang loud and proud, creating mashups of random songs. I thought I would be afraid when darkness fell, but I wasn’t. I paddled on.

My Inreach Track

Somewhere past Englewood, I met other Tribers, who wondered why I was heading north. Several were concerned that I was lost or disoriented until I explained Plan B. First I saw fellow paddleboarders Staright and ChesapeakeTJAM, then Kayakvagabond and other kayakers. After Manasota, I entered the ditch, a rock-walled canal that circles Venice Airport. It wasn’t easy. I fought both wind and tide going north. At that point, I was determined to reach my turnaround point and take advantage of the wind and tide heading south.

Somewhere in the ditch that I realized I could complete this race. Around 10 pm, I stopped at a boat ramp in Venice to consult my charts, eat, and put on warmer clothes. Surprise—Snake Island was much closer than I thought. I crossed Venice Inlet where I saw Conquistador. Then I circumnavigated Snake Island where I think  I saw a group of Tribers known as the ‘flock’, and then I headed back south. No more questions about why I was headed north! Back through the ditch, wind and tide at my back. The ditch is a seriously creepy place, especially in the middle of the night. Beyond the ditch, I heard several other groups making camp. Not long after, I found a sandy spot, set up my bivy, and grabbed several hours of much-needed sleep.

Sup on Indian Key
14′ holds plenty of gear

I had been thinking about Watertribe ever since I attended Chief’s Bootcamp in 2019. Listening to Chief and others revealed the combination of necessary skills and conditioning. In summer of 2019, I paddled the coast of Alaska and hiked a portion of Maine’s Appalachian Trail. These trips taught me to pack light with no-fuss meals. I made multiple trips to the 10,000 Islands and Everglades where I tested gear combinations and practiced navigation. During this time, a shoulder injury, ironically from my hike and not paddling, convinced me to set my sights on the Ultramarathon rather than the longer Everglades Challenge.

Tricked out NRS Chinook PFD
Tricked out NRS Chinook PFD

Body or board—where to carry gear. In practice paddles, I shifted items back and forth between body, board, and belt before settling on the right balance. Multiple pockets on my NRS Chinook PFD, designed for fishing, held small food and safety items I wanted close. A Hipster Wave hydration belt kept water off my back and added pockets for energy bars. A large Yeti bag held my repair kit, food, and camping gear. I am grateful to the Tribers who were so generous with advice as I made gear and training choices.

Shortly after daylight, I crawled out of my mangrove nest, inhaled several canned coffee drinks, and hopped back on my board. Perhaps a little less sprightly than yesterday afternoon. I had lost an hour due to daylights savings time. Ugh! I wanted to reach Cape Haze Marina before noon, my deadline.

The last few hours were a grind. I fought a headwind, or at least it felt like I did. A boat named Fat Bottomed Girl sailed by. But I knew that I would make it. My husband Kevin waved me into the marina, and I was done. Checkpoint captain Lori Bell greeted me with a paddle. I was tired enough to think it was a wooden spoon. Why was she giving me a spoon?

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Exhausted but happy
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Done!

Now I’m looking towards the Everglades Challenge 2021. Both the Ultramarathon and the Everglades Challenge demand endurance, navigational skills, and familiarity with wind and tides, and that is part of the appeal for me. Seeing the swells on Tampa Bay made me realize that I need more training in rough water. Lots of time on the water. Now that’s a prescription I can handle.

Beers at the Finish
Best beer with best husband ever

SUP Training Camp in the Keys

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Glassy seas in Key Largo

Paddleboard training in the Keys…sign me up! Scott Baste, owner of Tavernier-based Paddle! the Florida Keys,  posted a Winter SUP Camp focused on strokes, speed, and efficiency. The timing was perfect. I had been training for the Watertribe Ultramarathon, a 62-mile race from Fort De Soto to Camp Haze Marina. But I knew I had gaps in my skills, and I really really wanted to get faster.

New boards
Trying out new boards!

Part of the fun: trying out new gear! Testing shorter paddles and narrow boards made for a wobbly, but surprisingly dry, start.

Jill getting feedback
Jill getting feedback
Practicing strokes
Practicing strokes
Coach Scott
Coach Scott

Once we got our board, or sea, legs, the real fun began. Scott began with land drills to improve our strokes. Then we practiced, paddling up and down the canal behind his shop incorporating what we had learned. Later, we reviewed our progress, analyzing form and strokes through video footage. The camera doesn’t lie.

Key Largo mangroves
Key Largo mangroves

 

Shallow waters
Shallow waters

That afternoon and the following day, we practiced our skills on Tavernier Creek and nearby waters. The wind was gusting from the west around 20 mph, so we kept to the sheltered Atlantic side.

Eddy
Any eddy will do. Photo credit: Scott Baste

As we talked technique, Scott pointed out the rich biodiversity of the mangrove shallows. Eagle rays, barracudas, and bonnet head sharks, among others, swam around and under our boards. Paddleboards provide a perfect vantage point for viewing wildlife.

The following day, Paddle! the Florida Keys sponsored a SUP race and a post-race mini-clinic taught by Zach Rounsaville of Orange Beach, AL. Watching the race and joining the clinic revealed a new side of paddleboarding to me: racing and stroke finesse. In the clinic, Zach worked on body mechanics to make the forward stroke more efficient, and I am still working to incorporate what I learned.

Mangroves
Nine Mile Pond canoe trail

On our final afternoon, we paddled on the Nine Mile Pond kayak trail near Flamingo in Everglades National Park. High winds still challenged us, but I saw an ecosystem entirely new to me: Marjorie Stoneman Douglas’ ‘River of Grass.’

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River of Grass

 

Where's the trail?
Where’s the trail?
Getting low in mangrove tunnels

As we ducked under branches, I picked Scott’s brain about Watertribe. So far,  Conquistador (his Watertribe moniker) is one of two people to complete the 270-mile Everglades Challenge on a paddleboard. Completing the Everglades Challenge requires a broad range of skills, including navigation, backcountry camping, paddling in wind and waves, and endurance. I’ve been paddling in Everglades and 10,000 Islands to enhance my skills, but gaps remain. Nonetheless I (Flamingo) will be on the beach in Fort De Soto next March for the 2021 Everglades Challenge.

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Friendly Everglades gator

This is why I was so happy when Scott announced his Winter SUP Training, and I hope there will be more of them. SUP is still a relatively new sport, and training opportunities seems focused on racing and SUP surf. Paddleboarders are venturing into conditions, including coastal, whitewater, and multiday expeditions, typically paddled in kayaks or canoes. Some skills such as navigation are transferable from kayak to SUP, but others might require a SUP-specific focus (paddling in wind, for example). I need to work on paddling a loaded SUP through swells, a skill I have in a kayak. As the SUP world grows, ideally SUP-specific training opportunities will follow. Right now I’ve got my eye on a SUP trip down the Salmon River, an entirely different form of the sport. These are exciting times for paddleboarders!

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The world from a SUP

 

Lessons Learned by SUP and Sail in the Ten Thousand Islands

Camp Lulu cloudscape
Camp Lulu Key cloudscapes

With the wind at our backs on a blustery day, Kevin and I rode the current toward our White Horse Key. anchorage. Kevin manned KneeDeep ll, our 22′ O’Day sailboat, and I rode my 14′ A’u paddleboard down Coon Key Pass towards the Ten Thousand Islands National Wildlife Refuge and the Gulf of Mexico. We didn’t get far though. Somewhere between channel markers 4 and 6, we reversed course, paddling and motoring upstream against a 20 mph headwind, and returned to our launch site in Goodland, Florida. Why? The little things. In Tom Noffsinger’s assessment of a kayak training that devolved into a shit-show, he demonstrates how small mistakes can lead to mayhem. In our short time on the water, Kevin and I realized that our small errors had the potential to cause big problems. After re-evaluating our plans and a good night’s sleep, we sailed and paddled through the Ten Thousand Islands/Everglades for four wonderful days. And we learned some important lessons along the way.

Ten Thousand Islands
Ten Thousand Islands (Courtesy of nauticalcharts.noaa.gov/)

What went wrong? Kevin and I had pored over charts, plotting a course from Goodland to Pavillion Key in Everglades National Park, complete with multiple bail-out points. Our trip would combine SUP and sail and fulfill some specific goals: Kevin wants to hone his solo-sailing skills, and I am training for the 2020 Everglades Challenge. We loaded the car, attached the trailer, and headed south.

En route, the heavens poured down, and the trailer brakes froze up. We arrived late into Goodland and discovered that the marina was closing early the next day, Christmas Eve. The next morning, we rushed to step the mast before the wind kicked up. In short, we were frazzled.

Staging at Calusa Marina
Staging at Calusa Marina

I loaded my gear on the paddle and paddleboard, and we were off. Big winds and following seas towards Coon Key Pass, and it felt great to finally be on the water. But soon the rush and chaos of the past 24-hours caught up with us. We had neglected critical details. Kevin hadn’t set up the anchoring system, and I had buried my compass. We needed a do-over. That night and over the next several days, we discussed our mistakes and what we had learned.

Kevin emerges from the hold
Kevin emerges from the hold
Board and boat nestled up snug
Board and boat nestled up snug

The next morning, we woke to blue skies and fair winds and headed out to the Gulf. The night before, we re-evaluated our route, tested our VHF radios, and set up board and boat for paddling and solo sailing. For Kevin, this meant rigging the anchor for solo-anchoring, and I took the time to set up my navigation gear. One lesson learned: stop and re-assess when conditions change. Both the weather and our emotional states had changed, rendering our planning obsolete. In our rush to launch, both of us had misgivings, but neither of us spoke up.

Kevin setting anchor
Kevin setting anchor
Mangrove beach
Mangrove beach

Our destination that night: an anchorage near White Horse Key. I paddled, and Kevin sailed out Coon Key Pass into the Gulf, around mangroves and keys, and into the bay near White Horse Key. We tested our VHF radio communications as Kevin headed out into the Gulf and I circumnavigated islands, trying to increase my mileage. We were able to give each other frequent updates regarding location and heading. One challenge: balancing the needs of very different watercraft. On days with little wind, my board can easily outrun our sailboat. On windy days, a very different story. More factors to consider when deciding upon our course each day.

Sunset near White Horse Key
Sunset near White Horse Key

Combining paddleboarding and sailing has been a goal and a challenge for us. In our White Horse Key anchorage, over a glass of wine, or perhaps more, we realized yet another lesson learned from the first day: Too much, too soon, and all at once. We should have practiced each skill first, e.g., solo anchoring, rather than learning several things at once.

Tricked out NRS Chinook PFD
Tricked out NRS Chinook PFD
View from a board
Taking in the scenery

My challenge: working with safety gear and electronics while standing, without benefit of a kayak deck. The Ten Thousand Islands and Everglades are fantastic places for paddleboarding, but paddling in these wilderness areas requires safety considerations. In addition to extra food, water, and clothing, I also carried an emergency bivy and a Garmin Inreach. I tested my new NRS Chinook Fishing PFD which has plenty of nooks and crannies for PLB, VHF radio, GPS, and knife, among other things.

KneeDeep ll through the mangroves
KneeDeep ll through the mangroves
Mangrove point
Mangrove point

We woke to clear skies the next morning and agreed to meet for lunch at Round Key, a little speck on the charts near Camp Lulu Key. We paddled and sailed all morning, Kevin out into the Gulf, and me up and around Panther Key. As our meeting time neared, the skies darkened, and the wind picked up considerably. A squall was approaching. I radioed Kevin and told him I was taking shelter on a beach a mile north of Round Key. Round Key, as we discovered, was little more than several scraggly trees, surrounded by shoals and floating white pelicans. Little shelter for boat or board in a storm. Yet another lesson in choosing a meeting spot.

More white pelicans

Camp Lulu Key
Camp Lulu Key
Three cheers for Kevin's bug screen
Three cheers for Kevin’s bug screen

The storm passed, and we anchored near Camp Lulu Key that night. Kevin’s well-designed screen house protected us from the no see’ums, aka flying teeth. Camp Lulu Key lies on the border between the Ten Thousand Islands and Everglades National Park. As I passed, I saw campers setting up their tents. The west-facing beaches of the Ten Thousand Islands make perfect campsites. Though I stayed on the sailboat for this trip, I have enjoyed camping here in the past. On my next trip through this area, I will be self-sufficient, carrying all my gear on the board.

White pelicans near Indian Key
White Pelicans near India Key
View from a board
Taking in the scenery
Roseate Spoonbill Takes Flight
Low low tide
Flying Roseate Spoonbill
Roseate spoonbill flying

Back home and so many lessons learned. Kevin and I both advanced in both our individual and team abilities. Neither of us journeyed the miles we had hoped for, but we learned a great deal about coordinating a sail and SUP trip. Our plans met, and largely survived, reality. Our biggest take-away: slow down and take time to go over everything. In retrospect, we should have gone out to breakfast, drank more coffee, and re-assessed our plans on day 1 in Goodland. In the end, our trip was fantastic, but things don’t always turn out that way.

Roseate Spoonbill on the wing
Roseate Spoonbill on the wing

Sail and SUP, Flora-Bama Style

Ingram Bayou sunrise
Sunrise in Ingram Bayou

It started with a Jimmy Buffett concert, but it became much more than that. Our Plan A: paddleboard and sail our way from Big Lagoon State Park to Jimmy Buffett’s performance in Orange Beach, Alabama, exploring the bays and lagoons around Perdido Bay. Results: Plan A slid to Plan B, then to C, D, and E. We made it to the concert, but Plans B to E brought us to people and places along the Flora-Bama borderlands that we never envisioned. And, in the end, our trip was richer for it.

Bruce Cafe
Home cooking to die for in Ponce de Leon, FL

Gainesville, FL: Saturday, 6 am. Big Lagoon State Park boat ramp, 5 pm. Storms rolling across the panhandle had already delayed our departure: Plan A -> Plan B.  Kind strangers at the Bruce Cafe helped us repair a blown bearing buddy on our trailer. Plan B -> Plan C. Finally, Big Lagoon State Park.

Early the next morning, we launched KneeDeep ll, our 22′ O’Day, and motored west through the narrow ICW to Perdido Bay. We hoisted our sails in Perdido Bay, crossing back and forth from Florida into Alabama and back again, in the light afternoon breeze.

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Perdido Bay region
IB KD at anchor
Palmetto Cove anchorage

So many firsts. We navigated the shoals protecting Palmetto Cove and dropped anchor…seamlessly. A happy surprise since we hadn’t practiced anchoring with this boat. I inflated my paddleboard and paddled off to explore nearby creeks. Inflatable SUPs make perfect dinghies for small sailboats.

Another first: paddling and sailing independently, navigating to a designated location. The following morning, Kevin raised the sails and single-handed the boat, and I paddled up Soldier Creek, where we met two hours later. We each carried a VHF radio and a PLB (Personal Locator Beacon), and I carried my new Garmin Inreach in my PFD. All good practice for my upcoming kayak trip to Alaska’s Inside Passage and next year’s WaterTribe Challenge.

Kevin at sail
Kevin’s happy place

The bays and lagoons around Perdido Bay are perfect for paddleboards, as described by the Orange Beach Canoe Trail. The smaller bays and lagoons, in particular, offer some protection from wind and have less tidal variation. On the other hand, as I followed the twists and turns of one creek, it sure looked like alligator territory to me.

That night, we discovered a local favorite—Ingram Bayou. Surrounded on three sides by Alabama’s forests, no buildings in sight, we slept in splendid isolation.

Ingram bayou reflections
Reflections on Ingram Bayou
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Kevin: a perfect guinea pig for my dehydrated experiments
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Home sweet home
View from inside boat
From inside

Jimmy Buffett Concert Day. I paddled from Ingram Bayou to Wolf Bay where we loaded my board and motored towards Jimmy Buffett. Our splendid isolation soon gave way to ICW traffic and the circus-like atmosphere of the Wharf Marina.

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Our slip
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And these weren’t even the biggest boats
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From wilderness to this…
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Getting into the spirit

By mid-afternoon, land sharks, coconut bras, and hula skirts had taken over. After I accepted a “shot” of a Bahama Mama from a shark, I knew it was time to up our game. We donned our leis and joined a jovial crowd at a pre-concert where we all sang the expected renditions of Buffett covers as well as “Sweet Home Alabama” and heard cheers of “Roll Tide”. I’ve never had a better Cheeseburger in Paradise, and, as always, the show was great.

Back to Palmetto Cove. By boat and board, we returned to our Palmetto Cove anchorage, but conditions had changed. Clouds covered the skies, and small white caps made balancing on my inflatable board difficult. That day tested both our endurance and communication devices much more than the easier days. The NOAA weather report confirmed our suspicions that we needed to find shelter for the following night. Fortunately, the Bear Point Harbor had space for us, and the next day,  we secured our boat in an inside slip. Plan C -> Plan D.

Immediately, we knew that Bear Point Harbor was our kind of marina. After an excellent (and not dehydrated) lunch in Flipper’s Restaurant, we met some of the live-aboards. In conversation, we discovered that our new friends—Captain Tinsley and Salty Scotty—docked their sailboat Salty Abandon in Bear Point Harbor. We had met our fellow parrothead sailors in the Wharf Marina and learned about their sailing adventures and the Salty Abandon YouTube channel. Small world indeed.

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Setting up
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Thank god the tiki bar is open
Sorm over bear pt
It’s here

Thank God the tiki bar is open. By late afternoon, the storm rolled in, and it was time to take shelter in the Bent Oar Tiki Bar. The evening began with their world famous Bushwacker, a milkshake with an unspecified number of rums, and only got better. Alabama Lightning rocked the house, and we danced for hours. People introduced themselves and told us about the band and life in Orange Beach.

The winds remained high the next day, and once again we revised our plan. Plan D -> Plan E: the Flora-Bama Mullet Toss, where fish fly across the state line. As luck would have it, our stay coincided with the annual mullet toss across the state line hosted by the Flora-Bama Bar, the Bama Breeze for Buffett fans.

MT arena
The arena
MT board
Scores
MT measuring
Go get your fish
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The toss
Boats at Ole river
On the ICW

Back to Big Lagoon and home. We dropped anchor just east of Spanish Point in Big Lagoon for our final night. Both shores of the lagoon offer paddling opportunities.  The Big Lagoon Kayak Trail on the north side weaves through marshes and is mostly protected.

Uli in lagoon
Paddleboard ready for action
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Sunrise over Big Lagoon

We came to hear Jimmy Buffett and fell in love with the Flora-Bama region. The paddling and sailing was great, but the people we met made the trip. We’ll be back.

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Misty morning in Perdido Bay

Paddle 2 the People—A Feast for SUP

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Wekiva Spring

SUP surf. Paddling up a spring run. S’mores and campfires—what’s not to love? All that and more at Todd Bishop’s inaugural Paddle 2 the People in Wekiva Springs State Park.

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Wekiva Springs State Park Cabin (Courtesy of Rangervision.blogspot.com)

I loaded my board and drove to the Youth Camp at Wekiva Springs State Park. It felt like a reunion—Ronnie Kemp of Sea Kayak Georgia, Ashley Brown and Jeff Atkins of Wave Paddler, and Christa Foisy of Paddle NC and more. My kayak buddies had switched from boats to boards.

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Fishing SUP
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Fishing SUPs are wide and stable

We learned stuff on the water, and we learned stuff on land. David Hernandez and Will Niemann from St. Augustine Paddle Sports spoke about fishing SUPs, a quickly growiong market segment. These SUPS are large and stable, with hatches, attachment points for coolers, and even a bar to stand up. Not a bad way to spend a day on the water.

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Chillaxing in the dining hall
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Board options
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Swag

Plenty of options each day, ranging from an L1-2 IDW/ICE to coastal paddling to ‘Meet and Greet’ paddles on the Wekiva River and Rock Springs Run.

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Menu of activities
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Inflatable boards bounce off of rocks

Chaz Corallo of, ironically, Flatwater Paddle Co. of New Jersey showed us the gear necessary to do battle with rocks, including body armor, helmet and breakaway leash. Not just anyone can style Nantahala Falls on a SUP.

Chaz bracing
Rocking the Cross Tail Heel side Low Brace (Photo credit: Steve Faives of H20 Stoked)
Chaz at nanty
Chaz Styling Nantahala Falls (Photo credit: Steve Faives of H20 Stoked)

Inflatable boards bounce, not break, on rocks. I can’t say the same about bodies. Body armor seems like a good idea.

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Ronnie Kemp of Sea Kayak Georgia
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What lurks below Rock Springs Run

One day, we paddled down Wekiva River and up Rock Springs Run which has 3 primitive campsites, perfect for a SUP camping trip. Despite the proximity to Disney and Orlando, this landscape feels primeval and wild.

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The best fish tacos ever
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Wekiva Island-just down the road

Road trip to Wekiva Island for fish tacos and beer! Noone left hungry.

New friends, new skills, and a new board for Watertribe. I’m looking forward to Paddle 2 the People, part deux.

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The primeval beauty of Rock Springs Run

Testing the Waters: WaterTribe Boot Camp 2019

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Ready to go at Fort De Soto Boat Ramp

Can I paddle 300 miles in 7 days on a paddleboard? Do I want to attempt this feat? The WaterTribe Everglades Challenge is “an unsupported, expedition style adventure race for kayaks, canoes, and small boats” from Tampa to Key Largo, approximately 300 miles. The shorter Ultramarathan—the sprint version—extends the 67 miles from Tampa to Placida. The Watertribe blend of endurance, navigation, and expedition has tempted me ever since I first learned of this event. In January 2019, I attended the WaterTribe Boot Camp in Fort De Soto Park to see if I had the right stuff to enter the race in 2020.

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Boards Loaded and Ready to Go

The Boot Camp format consisted of a talk by Chief followed by a paddle and camping trip on Shell Island. Chief’s talk covered a range of topics critical for both starting and completing the challenge safely. A paddle or sail down Florida’s coast through the Everglades and Florida Bay is a serious undertaking. I already own and carry much of the safety gear based on my kayak training, but he reinforced the idea that critical gear should be carried on our bodies or PFDs. In my 5* BCU class, Gordon Brown emphasized the same point as we practiced on-water boat repairs. Chief’s mantra regarding GPS devices stuck with me: Two is one, and one is none, an accurate reflection of my experience with marine devices. Salt water and GPS’ do not play well together.

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Courtesy of WaterTribe.com

Chief also posed a question that each of us can only answer for ourselves. What are your goals in this challenge—to win your division or to finish? To me, finishing would be a victory. As Chief spoke, I did the math in my head. The event is almost 300 miles, and you have 8—really 7—days to get to Key Largo. The final party is in Key Largo on the 7th day, and I am not one to miss a party. That means approximately 45-50 miles per day. Can I handle the mileage and pace for 7 days straight? I have a year to figure that out.

My first challenge was finding a trail name. All long distance paddlers and hikers need a trail name. Through hikers on the AT and PCT have creative names, and I wanted a name that would also work for my upcoming AT hike. So I became Flamingo, and Janice chose HighTea in homage to her British heritage.

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Courtesy of WaterTribe.com

After Chief’s talk, the group headed to the beach where an array of boats and boards lined the shore. I was relieved to see another paddleboard there, but I was surprised to see so many sailing Hobies. I had assumed there would be more kayakers or canoers. One kayakers was incredulous when I revealed that I had a kayak at home. Why a paddleboard, he asked? I don’t think I can answer that, other than that I love the freedom of standing on a SUP.

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Crossing the bay
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Clear waters around Shell Key

We launched from the boat ramp for the short paddle to Shell Key. Chief had sent us coordinates and waypoints for the campsite on Shell Key and for several paddling options. The Challenge itself leaves from a beach facing the Tampa Bay shipping channel, and crossing a shipping channel is always nerve-wracking. For the Boot Camp, the weather was sunny and warm, and the water glassy, but conditions are rarely that benign for the Challenge.

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A tight squeeze
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Wrong way

Plan A involved paddling through a mangrove tunnel, then through Bunce’s Pass to the outside of Shell Key. We paddled around a small island searching for the promised mangrove channel. We made it about 50 feet then realized it was a dead end. Since it was too narrow to turn around, we paddled backwards—fin first which might turn out to be a useful skill. On to Plan B, we crossed the shallow flats, passed the motorboats lining Bunce’s Pass, then headed north to find out campsite.

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Drying gear
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Beach camping

Our group camped midway up the beach. It’s hard to believe this level of wilderness camping exists so close to St. Pete and Tampa. I set up my 1-person tent that I bought for the Appalachian Trail. Packing like a backpacker is crucial to SUP expeditions. The weight must be balanced and centered. The Hobie Mirages might carry 80 pounds of gear, but I can only carry approximately 30 pounds, including water, on my board. One new tip: pool noodles. From now on, I’ll stow them in my gear bags to increase flotation in case of capsize. One of the best parts of the Boot Camp was picking up tips about gear and packing. The other part: the people.

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Sunset
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Early morning coffee klatsch

The WaterTribe draws kindred spirits. After all, only so many people want to paddle from Tampa to Key Largo in any vessel, much less a paddleboard. After the sun set, we gathered around the campfire and traded stories. Though people came from all walks of life, it was a congenial and helpful group. I now understand why people come back year after year.

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Abandoned boat near Bunce’s Pass
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Skyway Bridge
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Cargo Boat in the shipping channel

The next morning, I drank coffee as the sun rose, a luxury I might not have during the Challenge. To make miles, I assume that I’ll be on the water before dawn. Most people savored the slow morning and moved on to their own adventures by 10 am. Janice and I paddled around Mullet Key to see the launch site. As we headed back, the wind came up, a premonition of future conditions.

I have no doubt the Everglades Challenge will be difficult, probably one of the hardest things I will ever do. Between now and Challenge 2020, I’ll hike the Maine section of the AT and kayak Alaska’s Inside Passage which will prepare me. I’ll also train on the paddleboard and consider what size and length board will work best for me. I already know that my 12′ Fanatic is too slow. But I look forward to the next year of training, planning routes, and figuring out gear. Do I have the right stuff? I’ll never know unless I try.

bird

 

 

 

Imagining William Bartram’s Salt Springs

Salt Springs Run cloudscape

Salt Springs Run hints of old Florida, before Disney and development transformed the land. The scrub landscape bordering the run offers a glimpse of the Florida William Bartram encountered centuries ago. Paddling this river lets me escape the twenty-first century for a little while.

I launch at Salt Springs Marina and slide my paddleboard onto the calm water just below the head-spring. The water is cloudier than the last time I visited a year ago, which saddens me.  Heavy rains and over-pumping from the aquifer have degraded many area springs. But even so, Salt Springs rarely disappoints.

The Salt Springs Marina sits at one end of a large pool. To the left lies the headspring itself and just downstream a pack of motor boats have anchored for an afternoon of swimming and sun. I turn my right, downstream, away from boats and people. It only takes one river bend to step back in time and imagine how William Bartram felt when he floated down what he called Six Mile Springs. On my first trip to Salt Springs, I paddled In William Bartram’s Wake on Paddle Florida’s 2015 Bartram History Paddle.  Dean Campbell and Sam Carr, designers of the Bartram Trail in Putnam County, regaled us with Bartram lore as we paddle down Salt Springs Run and up the St. Johns River to Palatka.

In 1766, Quaker naturalist and explorer William Bartram and his father John Bartram encountered Salt Spring Run while exploring the shore of Lake George, a wide spot in the St. Johns River. They rowed upstream against the slow-moving current until they reached the head-spring which they called Johnson Spring. Their journal entry, dated January 24, 1766, describes the oak hammocks, cypress knees, and pines that still characterize this run. Today, adventurers can paddle, hike, and bike sections of the Bartram Trail in Putnam County using maps and QR code that identify sites mentioned in Bartram’s travel journals. Site 28 marks the entrance to Salt Springs Run on the western shore of Lake George. Both University of North Florida’s Florida History Online and Bartram Trail in Putnam County provide ecological, historical, and literary commentary on the specific sites Bartram visited.

Rocky point
Site 28-Rocky Point
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Paddle Florida’s Bartram History Paddle 2015

Today, Salt Springs Run is part of the Salt Springs Recreation Area in the Ocala National Forest, easily reached by Highway 19. In the time of Bartram’s Travels and even well into the early twentieth century, most people travelled by boat. The dense and swampy Florida landscape made overland journeys difficult and dangerous. To reach Salt Springs, the Bartrams rowed up the north-flowing St. Johns River and up what we call Salt Springs Run.

Ocala National Forest Sign
Sign at Salt Springs Marina
Salt Springs Area Map
Courtesy of Google Maps

William Bartram returned to Salt Springs in 1774 and again floated the spring run. But his observations and “romantic imagery” after this second descent reveal so much more about Bartram and his enchantment by the spring.

“But there are yet remaining scenes inexpressibly admirable and pleasing. Behold, for instance, a vast circular expanse before you, the waters of which are so extremely clear as to be absolutely diaphanous or transparent as the ether; the margin of the bason ornamented with a grat variety of fruitful and floriferous trees, shrubs, and plants, the pendant golden Orange dancing on the surface of the plellucid waters, the balmy air vibrating with the melody of the merry birds, tenants of the encircling aromatic grove.” (Travels)

William Bartram’s ornate language captures the magic of Florida’s springs. I see the magic on my friends’ faces when they plunge into a spring’s clear waters.  Bartram’s flowery descriptions likely influenced writers and poets far beyond Florida. Scholars have traced Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem Kubla Khan to Bartram’s description of Salt Springs.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
   Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

Salt Springs, like all Florida springs, flows from an ancient sea, deep under the Floridan Aquifer, passing through limestone and karst caverns. Coleridge’s sacred Alph could very well be our own Salt Springs Run. Who isn’t captivated by our springs?

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Even though the water was more tannic than my last visit to Salt Springs, in my mind’s eye, I envision the crystal blue flow that William Bartram must have seen–the water that is “absolutely diaphanous or transparent as the ether.” I’ve seen this clarity on the Ichetucknee, Naked Springs at Gilchrist Blue, and Cannon springs during the Ocklawaha drawdown, so I know what is possible.

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Cannon Springs
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Naked Springs
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Gilchrist Blue springs

My father recently passed away at Oak Hammock in Gainesville, FL, after struggling with dementia for several years. After he died, so many residents and staff at Oak Hammock spoke fondly of my father, whose Charlie Brown smile lit up the room. My mother and I worried that nobody knew my father as we knew him, in the past. But they loved him as they knew him, as he was in the last years of his life.

I’ve only known and loved the springs in their current state. My husband Kevin tells me how much cleaner they were when he first came to Florida over twenty years ago. Still others reminisce about their clarity before air conditioning made Florida newly habitable and brought millions of new residents, including myself. I love them as they are.

Salt Springs Run is an out and back paddle, and fortunately paddling back upstream to the marina is not difficult. I paddled past the marina towards the headspring where motor boats congregated just beyond the ropes marking the Salt Springs swimming area. After the solitude of the spring run, the competing stereos emanating from the boats was jarring, but we all have our ways of loving Salt Springs.

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Boats anchored outside Salt Springs Marina

William Bartram’s words illustrate how some visitors responded to a landscape alien to them. I’m interested in landscapes and the people who inhabit them, past and present. Paddling on the waters that Bartram described helps me imagine the springs in a former, more glorious state. Even though I love the springs as they are, I know we can do better. Perhaps if we can expand our ecological imagination, we can find the will to restore and repair our springs.

 

 

 

 

 

Floridians in the Fjords

Paddleboarding through fjords surrounded by sheer cliffs. Drinking pure water from waterfalls. This is why bucket lists were invented. When I discovered SUP Norway’s five-day expedition through Naeroyfjord, or Narrow Fjord, there was no question—I was going, along with four other Floridians. This trip combined three things I love: paddleboarding, expeditions, and travel.

Fjord Map
Fjord Map

After months of planning, we flew to Norway in June and met our leader Titus Kodzoman and the rest of our team at a campground in Gudvangen. Kevin, Janice, and I arrived by boat which, Titus noted, was cheating since we previewed some of our trip’s highlights. But, I wondered, could the view from a tour boat compare with experiencing the fjord from a paddleboard?

 

That evening, our team bonded over a welcome barbeque and the ritualized branding of the cups. Titus gave each of us an individually branded cup which we promptly filled with champagne to celebrate our upcoming adventure.

 

By the following afternoon we launched our gear-laden boards from a small beach in Gudvangen. Titus issued everyone a 65-liter yellow drybag that held most of our gear, including clothing, sleeping bags, food, and tents. We strapped these bags on the front of the boards, centering them for balance. We paddled RedcoPaddle inflatable boards which we stiff enough to carry paddler and gear. To protect the boards, groups of three or four carried the loaded boards on and off the water.

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Ready to launch
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Carrying a loaded board
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Gear in front
Loading Boards
Loading the boards

Our first day was cold and rainy, a wintry day for us Floridians. We had debated for months about clothes and gear, and Titus answered a multitude of questions with unfailing good humor. He had posted pictures of smiling, happy paddlers in board shorts and bathing suits on SUP Norway’s Facebook page. They must be Norwegian, we reasoned—and packed heavier layers just in case. I wore most of them that first day, but I was never really cold.

 

Once we left Gudvangen, the stunning scenery captivated my attention, and I paddled along in awe. I kept looking upwards, craning my neck to see cliffs and the cascading waterfalls. I’m not sure how I didn’t fall backwards.

Glassy waters
Reflections on glassy water

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Over the next few days, we paddled through Naeroyfjord, one arm of the larger Sognefjord, and only 500 meters wide in some places. I see why so many tour boats and cruises ply the route between Flåm and Gudvangen. I enjoyed our boat ride but camping along the fjord was magic. 

 

On our second day, we stopped for lunch at the tiny town of Dyrdal. Arriving by boat is not unusual since the town has no road access. Ferries stop at Dyrdal and other places, bringing people and goods, but I wondered what it would be like living in a place accessible only by water.

Our breakfasts and dinners were mostly dehydrated camping meals, but Titus liked to surprise us with treats at lunch. At Dyrdal, he prepared a Norwegian lunch consisting of eggs, shrimp, salad, and salmon caviar. We squeezed the caviar out of a tube like toothpaste and were hooked after the first bite. Maybe it is the Norwegian equivalent of Cheez Whiz, but we loved it. It tasted like bacon—’liquid bacon,’ we called it. If only I could find it in the US.

 

The weather cleared up after the first day, but we experienced some unusual winds. Late in the day on our second day of paddling, our tailwind became a headwind, and we couldn’t make that night’s planned campsite around a headland in the wider part of the fjord.  It isn’t an expedition if everything goes as planned, so we discussed our options and decided to head back towards Dyrdal that night.  It was a good decision—we had a long day but we avoided paddling in the open, choppy waters of the larger Sognefjord when we were tired. Instead we enjoyed a lovely campsite with a wonderful view.

Taking a break
Breaktime
Tents
Home for the night

The next morning we woke refreshed and ready to tackle the long paddle to Undredal, our one “town” night in an established campground. Several people elected to take the ferry from Dyrdal instead of paddling, an adventure unto itself. The rest of us aimed for Undredal, around a headland and en route to Flåm.  Just before we turned into the main fjord, we battled an intense headwind for about 20 minutes. The wind stirred up the water, and passing tour boats created large wakes as motored by.  Around the corner, we received our reward: a downwind paddle to Undredal. Wind at our backs, we surfed down the small wind waves. A very happy group of paddlers arrived in Undredal that afternoon.

Undredal camping
Our Undredal campsite
Undredal Church
Undredal Church
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Taking a break

The sun shone brightly on our Undredal campground. We laid out our gear to dry while we showered in anticipation of dinner. Titus was taking us to a restaurant for a local meal. A meal that was not dehydrated! The town is known for goats and goat cheese, so it was not surprising that goat stew was the restaurant’s specialty.

Titus initially planned to paddle back towards Gudvangen on our final day, but the winds made that difficult. Instead we opted for a downwinder to Flåm, the larger of the two fjord towns. This was one of my favorite days—the weather had warmed up considerably, and I was ready for a swim. We jumped off our boards and swam in the cold water which, by then, felt great. Swimming underneath a waterfall, feeling the water pour over my head, was a peak experience for me..

Sweet water
Titus collecting pure water
Relaxing
Relaxing in the sunshine

None us had thought about what swam below us until Scott founds the ugliest fish ever.

Ugly fish
Who wants sushi?

Too soon we arrived at Flåm, along with several enormous cruise ships. What a difference in scale. Our days of isolation in the fjord were over. We piled our boards and gear on the beach, and Titus prepared a final treat: a barbeque lunchwith pølse, a sort of hot dog served with salad and onion bits. I rarely eat hot dogs, but in a Norwegian fjord, why not?

I was sorry our trip had ended but I learned that Norway and the fjords have so many more possibilities for adventure—paddleboarding, kayaking, and trekkinging. I look forward to seeing what new trips Titus develops. We also visited an outdoor store in Voss and learned about the DNT, Norway’s Trekking Association. I’m already plotting my return to Norway, and I know my fellow Floridians are doing the same.

Paddling into Flam
Paddling into Flåm
Pile of SUPs
SUP pile in Flåm
Our gear at the takeout
Gear at our Flåm takeout