Two rivers, two races

I know, there's not really much similarity between the little spring-fed San Marcos River in central Texas and the mighty Thames.

But about a week and a half ago the former brought me very pleasant memories of a big event on the latter.


Not quite four years ago I attended the Great River Race in London. My friends and I watched countless boats go by on the last leg of the race, perched as we were on the Jubilee footbridge. What fun it was on that gorgeous afternoon, watching both serious and silly paddlers heading downstream from the starting point 20-some miles away in Richmond.


Then, in 2012, I went to watch my first Texas Water Safari, a much more strenuous and challenging affair, which runs from the springs that begin the San Marcos, downstream past its joining with the Guadalupe, and ending up 260 miles away on the Gulf Coast.


As anyone with a head for math is probably thinking: that's a lot more than an afternoon's entertainment, isn't it? 


Well, yes, it is. We only watched the first day's action, following a couple of our friends' boats and cheering them on at several different checkpoints.

Zoltan at Westerfield crossing

John & Kevin after the Staples Dam portage

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The Safari starts at the springs but the first good place to see a lot of the racers (130+ boats this year) is the Rio Vista Park a bit downstream. The top picture in the post is looking back at the park from a nearby bridge. In addition to giving our friends a send-off, we got to see some of the bigger expeditions' boats in action. The long 6-man boats, which are taken for the advantage they provide on the long flat stretches that come on the second, third and fourth (!) days of the race, have to execute some fancy maneuvers to get through the rapids at the beginning. Like these guys:

Two of the team stay with the boat and shepherd it over the falls while the other four, deemed extra weight at this point, run along the shore and catch up some yards later. These folk are serious!

As you can imagine, especially on a nice day like this, there are lots of spectators at various points along the river. Here are two of my crowd shots:

Westerfield crossing spectators

getting a good seat at Cottonseed Rapids

Spectators need to know, though, that this is a very serious macho race and they can't help any of the racers in any way. If someone loses a paddle in the rapids you can't fish it out and hand it to them, or they'll be disqualified. The only people who can give anything to the racers are their official team captains, and they can only give them water and ice. Everything else—food, medicine, boat repair supplies, everything—has to be in the boat at the beginning.

Did I mention this is a serious race?

Of course, there are racers who take the experience much more lightly than others (although about 100 of the boats did finish, which I find quite astonishing). Some of them, it seems, might mainly be interested in showing off their creativity:

creative boat names like "Blazing Paddles"

creative river fashion (note the pants)

creative paddling style (does he think he's on the Cam?! )
this guy finished with the distinction of being the first stand-up paddler to do so

And there were beautiful boats for the cognoscenti to admire:

Many of the teams were color-coordinated:

And I still can't get over those long boats. I've paddled these rapids and I surely wouldn't want to have to maneuver something like this through them:

Watching this part of the race was a very entertaining way to spend the day. But when we bid our friends adieu in Luling (which is as far downstream as we've ever paddled on the San Marcos) we were pretty glad to be headed home to air-conditioning and beds instead of trying to snatch naps in the boats.

The teams that really go for the win complete the race in 30-40 hours. Which means, of course, that they don't sleep at all so the lack of beds isn't an issue. However, they have to navigate logjams, lengthy portages, and braided channels, often in the dark. Kinda crazy, imho.

Our friends turned in very respectable times, getting to the finish line in Seadrift in the early (one of the them in the very early!) morning hours of Wednesday. You have to finish by 1 p.m. Wednesday to get into the record books.

Like a marathon, finishing is a fine reward. But watching it is much more fun.

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I must mention a sad sidebar on the race. For the first time in its 50-year history, there was a fatality this year. A young man died of an apparent imbalance of electrolytes; he had drunk enough, and perhaps too much, water, without his body absorbing the corresponding required salts. So sad. He sounded like a great guy. You can read about him here.