Due to exhaustion, pictures were not taken during re-entry into the beast.
As we started our decent back into the unknown around 9 p.m, with our minds filled with positivity, optimism and the idea of having to carry our kayaks back through the jungle over land for seven miles, we were all committed to the task at hand.
After all, we had just accomplished more, physically and mentally, than
most people have ever dreamed of, at this point we were invincible and unstoppable.
There were several things on my mind at the time and none of them circled around failure or defeat. I was more concerned about reaching the three Hobie kayaks we left in the middle of nowhere, making it back in time to return the wheels to Jorge Cancel, who kindly loaned them to us, but desperately needed them in order to compete in the tournament, and making sure we got Michael "The Hyena Man" back in time to compete, being he had an adventure of his own just to make it to the Everglades, and most of all, the safety of everyone venturing on this excursion.
A couple miles in, my senses started to work and my mind became clear. There was no way we were ever going to be able to haul these yaks back through several miles of this terrain. The trail we were on wouldn't even compare to the ones we all had as a kid leading through the woods to our make shift club houses. It was full of twists and turns and laid down trees all the way there, and I knew if we were going to take this route, that none of my promises of returning wheels or making it back to the starting point in time for the safety check were going to come true.
It was clear that our bodies were starting to break down and no matter how much mental strength we had, there was no way we could physically make it back the same way we went in and keep on schedule.
Although my mind was strong, my legs were slowly beginning to weaken, I felt fine and nothing was burning, but I noticed my steps weren't as high as they were before, and my heals were beginning to drag the jungle floor with every step.
I could here Russ behind me starting to trip on sticks that were laying in our path, and when I told him to look up at the stars, I've never seen stars like this, it was amazing, he almost fell down due to dizziness, I guess that's why looking up and touching your nose is on the DUI checklist, it really throws off your equilibrium when your not at your best.
I could also hear Elliot, second in line, repeating, "mind over matter, mind over matter" and at that point I knew he was also on the downside of strength and sanity and we haven't even reached the kayaks yet.
I finally stopped for a water break and shared my thoughts with Russ, he made it clear he was thinking the exact same thing, dragging our yaks back this far just wasn't going to happen.
With our thirst quenched, we kept moving on, stepping over sticks, finding ways around fallen trees, and knocking spider webs out of the way all the there (did I mention I hate spiders, well I hate spiders), we even joked about what might be living in our kayaks when we finally get there, spiders, the Roogaroo, anacondas, and anything else we could think of. Throughout the night the best thing we did to keep our sanity and motivation was to maintain a humorous atmosphere as best we could.
As my legs weakened and my chaffing was on the verge of becoming a full blown open wound, we turned the corner and I heard the Hyena Man say, "we are here, I see the kayaks" I almost cried with relief.
We all reached our yaks and sat down for a break, I began to share my thoughts of our return, the Hyena Man was real quick to say, "at about 5 miles in, I knew we wouldn't be able to go back the same way."
With us all in agreement, we pulled out maps and turned on the GPS, the same GPS that had failed us throughout the day, but this time we weren't going to play pin the tail on the donkey with a blindfold on, we new we had to proceed with doubt of its accuracy.
The funny part was when the unit turned on and Russ read out loud the Warning that pops up when you turn it on: this device should not be used as your main source of navigation, guess they put that clause in there for situations like this. Thanks Mr. GPS.
After 15 minutes of looking at maps and the GPS we discovered a camping area along the beach that was 1.2 miles away. Only 1.2 miles of dragging yaks over land verse 7 miles the way we came in, this was a no brainer, we can do this.
With it decided, Elliot, Russ and I used straps to create makeshift shoulder straps that lead to the nose of each yak, so the weight would be equally distributed on our shoulders rather than holding the front handle of the yak in one hand, and the Hyena Man lead the way with his pen light that was on the brink of dying batteries since the moment we stepped in the jungle.
We were on our way, very slowly, I think a turtle even lapped us a couple times throughout the drag.
After about 300 yards Russ chuckled and made the comment that there was no way we could have done this for seven miles, he was right, the loaded down kayaks seemed like they weighed 400 pounds at this point in the night. With every break we took, about every 100 yards, we could here the waves crashing in the distance. We new we were close, but we also knew we were traveling west and not south. The thought in everyone's mind was one thing, when are we going to turn south, freedom is right there, we can hear it. There is nothing like being so close to something, but in realization being so far, it was one of those, you can't have your cake and eat it too scenarios, well who in the heck wants a cake if they can't eat it, gimme my dang cake.
Thankfully Michael would walk ahead of us all, at some points so far we couldn't hear or see him, and while this only showed us how much further we had to go and dimmed our spirits, each time he would return and tell us, "its right there, we're gonna make it." Well that was all good and fun, but after 3 or 4 of those walk abouts, we caught on and started asking, "Can you see the beach?" and each time he responded, no, but I can hear the waves.
Well we could hear the waves too, and I'm confident it was an unspoken torture for us all.
It was now almost midnight and the moon was beginning to rise and shed a soft light around us all, it was a nice relief to actually be able to see around us with something other than a flashlight.
As the clock keeper I knew we had to get on the water by 1 a.m. or we wouldn't make it back, so now was no time for quitting. We then made it into an open area, that again, looked like the Serengeti, and if lions were on the prowl, we were perfect for the taking.
The openness of the jungles canopy allowed us to really hear how close we were to the crashing waves. Almost 75 yards ahead of us we could see in the moons glow what looked like a levee, the usually ridge that you see on the northern side of white sandy beaches, and all of a sudden our spirits were lifted again.
Michael quickly walks ahead and yells back, "guys, its water," and we got excited, "but it's not the beach," and our spirits would begin to crack.
It was yet another obstacle in the way of our escape to freedom.
I was convinced at this point that getting out of Alcatraz was an easier escape then getting out of the gullet of this monster.
We pulled our yaks up to the waters edge and we stood in disbelief as, one by one, we all started to sink into the mud. You could see footprints going through the slough of water, making us think it was passable, but only when the tide was low and the sun dried the mud that laid beneath 6 inches of the waters surface.
As we observed the slough it was hundreds of yards long in both directions and about seventy yards across and scattered throughout it were grassy island that looked strategically placed by mother nature as a resting place for crocodiles to attack their prey.
All that was going through my mind was, if we were going to be attacked or eaten, this is where its going to happen, close to open water, at the end of our brutal excursion, and in a place that if an artist were to draw up a perfect hunting habitat for wildlife, this is what it would look like.
Michael, weighing in at 150 pounds wet, proceeded to the east of the slough in hopes to find harder ground that we cold cross, you could hear his feet pulling out of the mud as the suction was broken, it was a sound that if I ever hear again it will be too soon.
To look at it from another point, I am carrying 220 pounds of my own flesh, and then what feels like a 400 pound kayak on my shoulders, I can only imagine how deep I am going to sink in the slop, and I know I don't have the strength to pull my legs out from thigh deep mud if an attack was to happen. Put all that together and I am a human hot pocket just waiting to be eaten.
Michael finally crosses the slough and disappears for about 10 minutes, my heart is pumping, concern is rising, and he's got the pistol in his backpack, what the heck are we going to do if he doesn't return.
About that time we heard him, ''It's here, I see the beach, I see the waves," and at that point we all stood from exhaustion and the light bickering silenced.
Michael returned to say if we can cross the slough, we got it. Well that's all I needed to hear, crocodiles hiding in islands didn't bother me any more, I wanted out, and I wanted it now.
Being we were all too tired to drag our yaks east 100 yards we decided to go straight across, while Michael directed us from the other side. We would step into the mud and sink knee to thigh deep and then pull our yaks to us, use the yaks to pull ourselves out of the mud and then do it again and again and again until finally we made it to solid ground.
As we all sat in agony from the mud and exhaustion, Michael chimed in one more time, "over the next hill is the beach, but what I didn't tell you, is that its low tide, and we are going to have to pull the kayaks through the sand and then through mud for about 100 yards before we can reach the water."
It didn't matter, we were ready, we pulled over the hill, across the beach and through the mud and with the kayaks sitting in 6 inches of gulf water and all of us sitting in ankle deep mud, we discovered the obvious,
there were four people, but only three kayaks, and it was a 7-9 mile paddle against the falling tide and against a head wind.
It didn't take us long to figure this one out, Russ was in a Hobie PA 14 and Elliot and I were both in Hobie Outback's. After repairing two mangled Mirage drives, and making sure the backup was still in working condition, we emptied the items from Russ' kayak into the two Outback's, so Russ and Michael could ride together, Russ peddling and Michael riding shotgun in the back, he looked like that little statue of the boy holding a cane pole you see perched on the side of a subdivision pond or lake, I called him Little Bo Peep at this point.
In our minds the hard part was now over, we trekked over 15 miles on land and pulled kayaks over 1.2 miles of land and have already travelled over 25 miles on water for the day before we started home at this point.
It was now 1 a.m. and I knew if we maintained two and half miles per hour we would make it for show time. The half moon was directly in front of us and guiding our way home, all we had to do was keep telling our legs, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, and before we know it, we will be back at the tournaments launch point.
Well that was easier said then done, we loaded up and paddled out to peddle depth water and made the turn east, about 20 minutes into the trip we hadn't even reached 2 miles per hour on my GPS yet, we weren't going to make it.
I kept encouraging the tandem team in the solo kayak that we can do this and its almost over. I told Elliot that no matter what happens, those wheels need to be back at the beach by 5:30 a.m. for Jorge, and if you have to go ahead to make it there in time, then you're going to need to go.
Almost an hour into the trip, Russ's back began to act up and he and he couldn't peddle anymore. He and Michael were going to have to switch drivers, in the dark, in the water, and without the help of solid ground. They turned the yak towards land but several hundred yards before they could reach land they were in standing depth water, Russ piled out and Michael took over the helm, and within 15 minutes they were back at it and peddling east.
At this point Elliot had got ahead of us all a good distance and stopped to wait for us to catch up. As we made it to Elliot he didn't move, he didn't speak, he was just bobbing in the moon lit waves and the wind, and as we passed him and yelled several times, he began to peddle, as he finally caught up to us we were informed that while waiting, he fell asleep, and didn't know exactly what was going on.
Exhaustion at this point was an understatement.
With the wind in our face and the waves continually crashing over our yaks from almost every direction, we kept up pace, we were now maintaining 2.8 miles per hour, and if we could hold this speed, we were going to make it.
The only issue at this point was Michael was having problems turning the PA to the left, with the waves crashing off his port side and carrying a nearly 7 foot grown man in his trunk, the kayak was not performing as normal, not like they were exceeding the weight limit or anything, yeah right, but Michael kept moving forward.
As we neared Curry Key, maintaining the exact bread crumb trail on the GPS that we took almost 24 hours earlier, we ran into one more issue, grass, it was everywhere, at times it felt the yak was sitting on land it was so thick.
We did our best to turn into the waves and head due south until we found the channel of deeper water(this mishap was a game changer in part 4) it was a rough paddle for me, I can only imagine what it was like for the dynamic duo to have to swing a paddle in the air after all we had been through and carrying two people in a one person yak.
This wasted almost 30 minutes of our, previously on schedule, trip. As I waited for Michael and Russ to catch up into the channel, we couldn't help but laugh out loud at the idea of a simple peddle home, after all we had faced and overcome, why in the world would we ever think the rest of this trip was going to be flawless. The idea of something going as planned was now a joke, we were actually beginning to look forward to the next unforeseen challenge at this point.
Around Curry Key, around Bradley Key, and finally around Joe Kemp Key, we could see another glimmer of hope, it was a light, a light that we knew was our final destination. All we had to do was turn the yaks 35 degrees and travel another mile and change and we were there. I could see truck lights pulling up and dropping their yaks off at the starting point and then driving off to park.
My heart was racing and my peddles were moving as fast as they could go, but as I eased out of the channel, I again hit the grass beds.
Really, are we going to be this close, and not be able to get in? I turned back into the channel and peddled up even with the lights I could see, from this point I could use my paddle and the wind would guide me to safety.
That is until I floated over a shark of giant proportions. As the sharks tail raised out of the water on the left side of my yak, and shined bright as my headlight bounced off is rough skin, his head was on the right side of my yak, this creature erupted under me like nothing I have ever experienced and I was inches away from turning over.
As the beast swam away he left what felt like a three foot swell as the wind blew me over the wave.
Now my heart was pumping for a lot of reasons and joy and relief wasn't one of them. After a few choice words I was able to refocus on the light ahead of me and get back on track headed north.
Elliot reached land first, although it as several hundred yards west of the launch spot, but within the campgrounds, I landed second, and Michael and Russ landed third, next to Elliot.
As I was attempting to stand up out of my yak I noticed two kayaks already at the landing, and in one of them a man stood up with his light beaming toward me. He walked over and asked if I had been night fishing, I laughed, and then I gave him the short version of what happened, his response was, "Bro, man, dude that's crazy, Bro, really, dude," and I understood exactly what he was trying to say.
As I checked my watch I saw it was a little after 4:30 a.m. and I quickly asked him if he could give us all a ride to our vehicles so we could start preparing our equipment for the safety check that started in less than an hour.
At this point we have seen the sun rise, the sun set, the moon rise, and soon to be another sunrise, traveled over 30 miles on water, over 15 miles on land, and now I am rushing to get prepared for what I know is going to be yet another grueling 20 plus mile paddle for the tournament. Remember earlier when I said I was thinking clearly? Apparently I wasn't. Either way, we all loaded up in the back of the truck and headed toward our vehicle when .................................
Part 4 soon to come
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