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Buffalo Bayou Regatta

By Chris Stevenson

This past Saturday I ran in my fourth canoe race, the Buffalo Bayou Regatta.  For those who don't know, Buffalo Bayou runs through the heart of Houston and empties into the Gulf of Mexico.  The city of Houston was founded on Buffalo Bayou, so it is sort of central to the city's identity.  For many years the bayou was severly polluted, but efforts of the last 30+ years have greatly improved the situation.  In fact, the race used to be known as "the Reeking Regatta."  Until Saturday I had only driven over the bayou or run by it, but I've never been really close to it and certainly not in it.  The water is silty brown and not very pretty and the banks are muddy or covered by brush.  You have to really love it to say that it is beautiful.  Still, I think the public's opinion of the bayou as a festering polluted ditch is incorrect.  But, I digress.

Weeks before, I convinced the fiance' (formerly the GF) to do the race with me.  She's not really into paddling, but we've been in the boat together before.  She's athletic and fit and she has good balance and she doesn't complain, so I thought she'd make a good partner.  Plus, I thought it would be something different and fun that we could do together.  A sort of team-building exercise if you will.  It turned out to be quite an experience.

The Race

The race is approximately 15 miles long and starts near Voss road west of the Galleria.  It wends its way through the Memorial neighborhood, the Galleria, Memorial Park, along Allen Parkway to downtown.  The Regatta is probably the most friendly to amateurs of all the Texas canoe races.  It draws by far the most participants.  Last year there were 250 boats.  It was said that this year there were a hundred more than that.  Like all races, the Regatta has several race categories based on boat type.  They are recreational canoe, USCA, recreational kayak, K-1, unlimited.  All of the categories are futher broken down by gender, tandem, solo, mixed, over 50 etc.  There are a handful of the usual suspects in the Texas canoe racing circuit who are serious racers, with serious boats, who are fast and usually also participate in the Texas Water Safari.   

The Start

We got to the check in about 8:30.  The race was supposed to start at 9:00.  We pulled up to the boat drop off area and there were hundreds of people milling around and more canoes and kayaks than you've ever seen in one place.  It was a little surreal to see all of these boats and outdoor enthusiast-looking people milling around an office building and parking lot in the middle of an urban area.  We unloaded our boat and gear and I started to rig the boat while the fiance' checked us in, got our boat number and picked up our t-shirts.  Once we got all the gear unloaded I went and parked the truck in a parking garage that the race organizers had received permission to use.  There were several categories of participants and they were starting at different times.  We were the last category, unlimited, so we were starting at 9:20.  The recreational classes all started before us.  So we would have a chance to watch the start.  A quick note here is that the start was "Le Mans" style, which means that you do not start in the water.  You have to either run to your boat or run with your boat or otherwise launch your boat before getting in and paddling.  Here is a video of a crazy Le Mans start.  I had never done a race with a Le Mans start and the fiance was pretty terrified by the idea.  I wasn't too worried about it because I had an idea in my head about how it would work.  Plus, our classification wasn't going to have very many boats so I didn't think the traffic and clusterfuck factor was going to affect us. 

We walked down to the water to try to find a good place to launch the boat.  What we found were steeply inclined banks that led to the water's edge and brown water of unkown depth at that point.  The channel was maybe fifteen yards wide.  There were also dozens and dozens of boats lining the water's edge and scattered all over the banks.  It was obvious to me that launching any boat, much less our 24' Raptor, was going to be difficult.  I tried to hide my horror so the fiance' wouldn't get scared.  I had heard rumors of the crazy start of this race and now I knew they were true.  I walked to the bank looking for any kind of beach or flat spot to launch the boat.  It was obvious that just a day or two before the whole area was choked with weeds and brush and that an army of city employees had come in with chainsaws and weedeaters to clear the area for the race.  It still smelled like wild onions that had been cut by a mower.  I settled on the best area I could find to launch the boat, which was a sliver of sand along the bank that we could lower the boat onto.  I showed the spot to the fiance' and explained the plan.  "Once the rec classes start we'll bring our boat down here and slide the rear end down first.  Then we'll get in on the sandy area and start paddling."  Satisfied with our plan, we walked back up to check on our boat and find a place to watch the start.

The race was delayed for some reason or other.  There was a guy dressed like Sam Houston who had a mini cannon that he was going to fire off to start the race.  There was also an enormous older black guy standing next to the Sam Houston dude on the bridge overlooking the starting line who I figured must have been a former Houston Oiler, but I don't know who.  The race was just about to start when we noticed a big sign that said "Even" on the bank.  Hmmm.  We asked around and discovered that even-numbered boats had to start on one side, the side we were on, and the odd-numbered boats started on the opposite side.  I could see the logic to cut down on traffic.  The only problem was that we were an odd-numbered boat (465) and we hadn't scouted the opposite bank for a place to launch.  Uh-oh.

We hustled the boat across the bridge and onto a knoll overlooking the bayou and walked down to find another spot to launch.  We located a spot that would do right before the race started.  I saw and talked to a couple of Safari racers that I recognized.  We watched as people of all shapes, sizes and colors lowered their boats toward the water with ropes down the near vertical banks.  A couple of people fell in even before the race started.  At about 9:40 the race director called out that the race was about to start.  He counted down from ten and the mini cannon was supposed to go off, but, of course it didn't.  Sam Houston's punk went out and he had to light it again.  By the time the cannon went off twenty or thirty seconds had passed and it was already complete mayhem in the water.  People were falling in the water and sliding down the banks.  Boats were banging into each other and people were laughing at how ridiculous it all was.  Surprisingly, I didn't hear any yelling or cursing.  You could tell that there were people with no paddling experience who were realizing that they were in over their heads; literally.

Pretty quickly the traffic thinned out.  Those who had tumped over righted themselves and paddled downstream.  Laggers made their way leisurely into the water and started off.  A second category of racers started about ten minutes later.  At that point we got our boat in position and started lowering it toward the water.  Before we were in position the cannon went off again for our start.  We were a little awkward and slow getting into the boat, but we made it without capsizing and got underway.

The Race

No sooner had we started paddling than we started to hit the slower traffic.  I expected this and actually looked forward to weaving in and out of the slower boats.  For one, it makes you feel like you are fast.  For two, it's part of the technical challenge of steering the boat to pick the right lines and maneuver around other boats.  My boat has a rudder on the back attached to foot pedals and it's actually quite responsive.  We came upon one guy who had just cracked a beer out of the ice chest in his kayak and another pair in a tandem rec sit-on-top kayak who each lit up cigarettes.  Quite a bit different than the other more serious races I'd been in. 

My strategy wasn't to try to win the race - I knew that was impossible.  We're not experienced or fast enough to compete with the really fast guys.  I did think we had a shot to win the mixed (male/female) unlimited category.  I looked around but I didn't see any other mixed unlimited teams, so we might've been the only one.  Mainly, I wanted to work on my paddling form and endurance as a part of my training regimen for the Safari.  So, I needed to push myself and go as fast as I could. 

We passed a ton of boats.  Every now and then we'd come upon an obstacle - usually a fallen tree spanning a portion of the channel.  Sometimes there would be other boats stacked up there because someone had gotten crossways in the current and plugged the channel.  Sometimes the traffic stacked up because people had to file singly through the slot.  Once, there was a narrow channel with a lot of boats stacked up waiting to go through.  There was a tangle of limbs sticking out of the water with one or two boats pinned sideways to them.  The current was carrying everyone toward the limbs.  I could see a disaster developing.  Getting crossways to an obstruction is about the worst situation there is for a paddler.  That's how you get your boat wrapped and broken.  Even though it wasn't the most sportsmanlike thing to do I made the decision to shoot the gap and cut in line.  We crammed into the opening between two boats and floated through three wide.

Another time we came upon a cluster of boats and these two bubbleheads in a huge green canoe decided they were going to pull over to the bank and rest, I guess.  The only problem was that when they turned they blocked more than half of the channel.  I tried to call out "On your right!" but it was too late.  We rammed them as they turned in front of us.  In a more serious race what they did would have been a serious foul.  But I knew they were amateurs and didn't know any better.  Still, I hoped the dirty look I gave them told them what they did wasn't cool.

About a third into the race we were paddling along at a decent clip when all of a sudden, WHAM!  We were thrown out of the boat!  I had just enough time to see the fiance' at the front of the boat go flying out, turn in the air and look at me with this surprised expression.  I glimpsed the barely submerged stump that we'd hit as I followed over the side and the shock of the water rendered me speechless for a few seconds.  "S-s-s-s-swim to shore!" I managed.  The fiance' instinctively tried to get back in the boat, but she didn't know that an open water entry in our skinny racing boat is near impossible.  "G-g-g-g-grab onto the s-s-side and s-s-swim to shore!"  I started to swim as other thoughts flooded my brain.  "D-d-d-do you have your p-paddle?"  "Yes!"  "O-okay."  We held onto the boat and swam to shore.  I could feel submerged limbs with my legs.  A couple of the boats we'd just passed came by and asked us if we were okay.  Finally we got to the bank.  "L-l-let's walk it down a l-little ways to that b-b-beach."  I was shivering.  The fiance's sandals stuck in the mud making it nearly impossible for her to walk.  I guided the boat down the shoreline to the area that flattened out so we could climb back in.  It took a few minutes for the fiance' to regroup and make her way down to the bow of the boat.  She climbed back in as I explained what happened.  She had no idea we'd hit something.  We started paddling again, a little shaken and definitely cold.  We paddled the rest of the race soaking wet, cold and uncomfortable.  I didn't have it as bad as the fiance'.  She gets chills when the temperature gets down to 75.  She craves warmth so much that I have an asbestos shield installed on our bed to protect me from the heat of her side of the bed at night.  Plus, I wore old running shoes, which are close-toed during the race and she was wearing open-toed sandals.  As the saying goes, "If your feet are cold, you're cold."  Needless to say, she froze the whole way.  But she didn't complain not once.  She's a trooper.

The rest of the race was relatively uneventful.  It was weird passing Houston landmarks from a boat.  We paddled and paddled and paddled.  I tried to focus on my form and my breathing.  We passed a lot of boats and chewed up the miles.  When we got to the Shepherd St. bridge there was a sign hanging from it that said there were 3 miles to go.  I tried to pick up the pace a bit at that point, figuring I could maintain until the end.  I picked several boats in the distance that I was going to try to pass before the end and we slowly reeled them in.  We came around the final bend and saw the finish.  The race officials were staged on one side recording everyone's times.  I had forgotten to start my stopwatch so I have no idea what our finish time was, but I think we were around the 2:20 mark.

Post Race

The take out was interesting.  Basically, there was no take out.  There were sheer concrete walls rising four feet above the water's edge.  There was no way we were going to be able to get out of the boat there because you can't stand up in the Raptor.  Can't be done.  If we'd have tried we would have fallen in the water and probably gotten injured.  They had some volunteers at the water's edge helping people out of their boats, but that wouldn't have helped.  Fortunately, just beyond the finish line there was a small beach and a many-tiered retaining wall that made like steps going up.  We pulled around and got out there.  As soon as we stopped paddling, the fiance immediately began shivering uncontrollably and turning blue.  I was cold too, but she was in worse shape.  Priority number one was getting her dried off and into dry clothes.  We hadn't planned the post-race supplies exactly right (we were optimistic about not falling in) so we could only piece together enough dry clothes for one of us.  And since I'm such a great guy I gave the fiance the dry change of clothes.  She went off with the towel and the clothes to find a place to change while I found somebody to help get the boat up the bank.  A nice guy from the UH ASCE Concrete Canoe Competition team helped me with the boat.  A little while later the fiance came back from changing, looking much warmer. 

There was a little festival at the finish line with booths set up and live music.  There were free hot dogs, Red Bull, Sweet Leaf tea, crap like that.  We went from booth to booth.  I picked up a couple of free water bottles from the REI booth and ate a hot dog in .5 seconds.  From there we located the shuttle back to the truck.  We fantasized about hot showers and soup.  We picked up the truck at the starting area, went back downtown to pick up the boat and finally made it home where we made the showers and soup a reality.

 

Full post as published by Cursed With Ambition on March 10, 2008 (boomark / email).