Ancillary perks included dreamy weather, a delightfully mellow scene which was mandatory since Little Chick is recovering from a concussion (she’s going to be fine but had quite a scare that started our Friday in the ER), learning about all sorts of books from fascinating authors, and getting up close and personal with the gorgeous Texas Capitol building.

We hustled into our seats just in time to hear Lisa Fain start her presentation. Lisa is a food blogger and I have been following her stories since I started blogging myself in 2007. A transplanted Texan living in NYC (I’ve been there, sister! Having my mom ship boxes of canned Ro-Tel to me in Boston) and she blogs about the unique Texas recipes she grew up on. Which are apparently the same ones I grew up on! Now she has published a cook book with the same name as her super successful blog, The Homesick Texan.

She took every picture in the book herself and the stories that introduce the recipes offer the same comfort and kick that her food does. I knew I loved this bird years ago when she explained on her blog in bold detail how to prepare REAL Texas nachos. Each one individually, not in a junkyard pile with dripping toppings seeping off the edges like an elementary school paper mache volcano project. (My words, not hers.) I’ve been her loyal follower ever since.

I was delighted to see she put the nachos, as well as our mutually firm nacho-stance, in the book.

Little Chick had to get back into bed to convalesce so I spent the afternoon with my nose in this cookbook, nostalgic for the Texas classics I’ve loved since I was a kid. I tore myself away only because we had one more goal for the book festival.

Alamo Drafthouse showed one of my all time fav flicks Smokey and the Bandit on the big screen and hosted stuntman, director, now-author Hal Needham who directed ‘Smokey’. At 80, let me just say Hal Needham is about one of the most charming men on the planet. I mean, he is coooool.

Of course, not quite as cool as the Bandit. Yowie. Hubba hubba.

After the movie, the Professor waited in line to purchase a signed copy of Hal Needham’s new book ‘Stuntman’. Mr. Needham was gracious and funny and we are now big time Hal Needham fans.

And because I know you are probably now humming along to the Smokey and the Bandit theme song (which we sang out loud in the theater at the end of the movie) I thought I would share one of the all-time greatest Jackie Gleason scenes of all time. Enjoy….

I’m headed to Montana on Wednesday for a little fall fishing so in the words of the Bandit….I’ll catch you on the flipside.

Click here if you’d like to order a signed copy and/or need me to write something custom in the front such as “Happy Birthday” or “Hold the Mayo” or “To My #1 FFC Reader”. There’s a little box-form on my book blog page where you can fill in what you’d like it to say.

Click here if you’d rather skip my chicken scratch in the front of the book and just want to go ahead and order/checkout.

If you’d like to supersize it (ie, you want to buy books for your whole family tree to put in their stockings or give out to all your employees at your next team building meeting) then give me a shout at flyfishchick [at] live [dot] com to discuss shipping options.

If you need a little refresher or primer as to what the book is about, take a look at this video that my friend Tim Cole put together. Am also especially grateful to The Band of Heathens and Nathan Hamilton (Texas musicians!) who offered their TX tunes as the soundtrack. I insisted the music had to be 100% Texas homegrown and these local talents were kind enough to support the cause. More lovin’ on these bands in future posts. In the meantime, here’s the sizzle reel:

So there you have it. The FLY FISH CHICK Drive-Thru is open late nite to take your PADDLEFISH value meal deal orders, and this one-woman operation will ship it via good-old fashioned ASAP.

Your unwavering support throughout the race and the book-writing process has been humbling and much appreciated. Thank you again & again!

First and foremost the company and the weather were sublime. Sunshine galore, music on five stages for four days, excellent camp food, lots of laughs. We loved our campsite having gathered a crew from Mobile, Tampa, Tallahassee, and Albany GA. Our group is growing! We are like the Roman empire of the Suwannee campground.

The Springfest festival-goers continue to impress. Everyone is gracious, lovely and mellow – at one point the Professor exclaimed, “I think Springfest is the most civilized place on Earth.”

While I haven’t taken the time to practice my hooping since last year, The Professor urged me to get back into it. He even bought me a new hoop from some festie chick who makes them herself and was selling them in the campground. This is a different woman in the pic on the right. I recognized this gal Michelle from Chicken Shit Bingo two weeks ago in Austin. She’s from Florida, was in Austin for SXSW and I remember seeing her at Dale Watson at Ginny’s. Two weeks later I recognize her at Springfest. Crazy.

So anyway I am happy to say my love affair with hooping is once again alive and well. Although I am still very much a beginner. But I swear I am going to be better in time for Springfest 2012!

In the meantime, I have plenty of music floating around my head to practice. Here’s what we heard this weekend. Spoiler alert: The Avett Brothers and Cornmeal were my tip top favorites. As always the video montage tells the whole story and is at the bottom of this post.

THURSDAY

Larry Keel – perfect bluegrass warm-up

Scythian – we’ve been trying for 3 years now. I still don’t get the celtic rock thing. Although we have become nostalgic about Scythian after three Springfests

Greensky Bluegrass – really started to get into it with Greensky. For some reason all the pickers looked like fisherman to me. So The Professor and I started playing a game trying to guess where each musician was from and what they fish for. For example, stand up bass, Boise, trout on spinning rod. Fiddler, from Georgia, but lives in MT now and flyfishes for trout. Banjo, Colorado trout guy. Guitar, Alabama bass guy. Drop steel, we couldn’t decide. Probably a rocky mountain guy though.

The Motet – These guys from Boulder played late night on the Amphitheatre stage. For the first 60 seconds I thought, “Ugh, too Kenny G for me.” But all of a sudden they kicked it into superfunk horn jazzy house techno music. I liked it. Not my everyday genre but a cool way to end the first nite

FRIDAY

First we had to detour to the cafe near the music hall where the manager was kind enough to let us watch our episode of Bass 2 Billfish. That was a hoot. Then it was time for the music.

Danny Barnes – For some reason when I read the schedule I was determined that Danny Barnes was going to be Danny Everitt, the musician friend of my good friends Annie & Mark McKinnon. I had the last name wrong though, which I confirmed in a quick realtime email to McKinnon. He emailed me back from Argentina to tell me his friend’s last name was Everitt, not Barnes.

Oh well. Danny Barnes was kinda out there anyway. Intense. Genre-bending. The next day we would see him on a folding chair in the middle of the road playing impromptu with Joe Craven which was kinda cool

Two Foot Level – Solid upstart bluegrass band. Perfect for afternoon beer drinking

Trampled By Turtles – Speedgrass band from Deluth MN. They were just in Austin for SXSW. I didn’t see them in ATX but talked with them after their Springfest show and had a chance to talk about their time in Texas. great musicians, nice mellow guys

Galen Kipar Project – smoldering little group on the new stage near the lake. They were folksy, bluesy, funk. Some dramatic Drive-by-Trucker-esque lyrics. They did a great ‘Alabama Chicken’

David Grisman – Academically I get that he is arguably the greatest mandolin plyaer in the world. And he played with Jerry Garcia. But unlike everyone else at the amphitheatre, my life remained unchanged after seeing him. It’s always a nice afternoon break for me to chill and people watch when Grisman takes the stage (I know I’m in the minority here and what I said is complete heresy. Just being honest.)

Cornmeal – Showstopper!!! High energy jam band rockabilly bluegrass. We decided to call them jambilly. The chick fiddler was INCREDIBLE. She sawed on that fiddle like Charlie Daniels. The lights were flashing, the sound was loud, the harmony pitch perfect. I am a Cornmeal fan.

SATURDAY

Larkin Poe – lovely sisters with beautiful voices. We didn’t hear much but we liked what we heard.

Traveling McCoury’s – I wasn’t fully present for this. I was at the back getting a chair massage which was life changing

Jim Lauderdale – of course we all know how much I HEART JIM LAUDERDALE. His psychedelic cowboy honkytonk outfits were better than ever.

So here’s a great springfest moment. When Jim Lauderdale covered the tune “The Race Is On” my friend Carol and I both jumped up and squealed with delight. We each said at the exact same moment:

Carol: “I love this Dead song!”

Me: “I love this George Jones song!”

We just laughed at our different genre upbringings and danced away to Jim Lauderdale’s version.

Donna The Buffalo – I’m not sure it would be Springfest without Donna The Buffalo. We boogied down while the crowd bounced those inflated balls back and forth. Groovy as ever.

Steep Canyon Rangers – This is actor/comedian Steve Martin’s bluegrass band. It would have been a lot cooler if the wild and crazy guy himself had been there but they were incredible musicians nonetheless. They looked so sharp in their suits and ties. Carolina boys, you know.

The Avett Brothers – and speaking of Carolina boys. The Avett Brothers are from Concord North Carolina, as is my college roommate from Chapel Hill. I just have visions that maybe she babysat for them a long time ago and we are going to get backstage passes at some point?

The Avett Brothers brought down the house. There was a lot of hype after their recent Garden & Gun cover and performance at the Grammy’s. But they were un-flippin-believable. They defy category. They sounded like the Samples, Brett Dennen, and the Sex Pistols all balled up into one hot show. Somehow it really hung together.

They credited Doc Watson with inspiring them on a kickass version of “Blue Ridge Mountain Blues” that I lov-lov-loved. (As an aside I really like the Earl Scruggs version too.)

Surprise Me Mr. Davis – can’t explain the name away. that said, I liked ‘em. Oddball, torchy bluesy rock. good stuff.

Cornmeal – we got to see them again on the big stage. They ROCKED. I hooped to my heart’s content. And I almost fainted from sheer delight when this countrified jambilly rockgrass band played a ten minute version of the Bee Gees’ disco hit “You Should Be Dancing”.

Quartermoon – About two in the morning we wandered to the legendary Quartermoon tent where they have a shrine to Bill Monroe and all sorts of musicians gather to pick and jam.

SUNDAY

Verlon Thompson – lovely mellow way to wind down while we waited an hour for our tshirts to get screen-printed. He made lots of Guy Clark references which made me feel at home

Big Cosmo Suwannee Sound Syndicate – also lowkey, with lyrics all about festival love

Jim Lauderdale – we didn’t stick around for his Sunday show but I saw him tuning up and was entranced with his bedazzled orange outfit. I have decided next year I am going to knock off this exact suit and wear it to Springfest with a button that is a picture of him wearing the same suit. Stalkerish? Perhaps. But I can’t get enough of Jim Lauderdale’s snappy threads. To die for.

Okay, no more talking. We went to sleep around 3:30 am to the sound of fireworks, the drum circle and someone bouncing around the woods with a pan flute. This festie needs some shuteye. Enjoy the montage friends…{if you are viewing this via email subscription, you need to click through to the FFC site to view the montage}…

So in a nutshell, fishing in Belize….thrilled I went, George Bradley is the nicest, hardest working guide on the planet, low water this time of year, unfortunate cold snap, cloudy skies, wind, wind wind. Tough conditions. Smaller fish than Bahamas but not easier to catch.

All sight casting, tails tails tails tails. Thousands and gazillions of bonefish tails. Saw a massive snook, no shot. Spooky spooky spooky bones. Shallow water. Damn wind. But managed to catch 3 on first day, 8 on the second day. Loved it.

And of course, it wouldn’t be a saltwater trip for me without…wait for it….a slideshow.

Enjoy!

I caught this fish on a trico right out of the gate.

The Professor answered immediately with this bank feeder he caught on a double-wing trico pattern.

What to do when you reach the takeout before they’ve shuttled the truck? Impromptu cheese & cracker picnic.

Driving home from Dillon…

Our second day on the Beav we put in at the dam with its scrappy ramp.

We saw rising fish all day long which was great fun.

I tried and tried on this pod but couldn’t get one. Here I am starting to get chilly and hungry and wanting to find a fish that was a little hungrier for what I was serving up.

We did find a catch a few more fish, all in all two great days fishing. And for the record we did see a very big, big brown beaver on the Beaverhead. But since I didn’t take a picture of the actual beaver, I will leave you with some video of Cross Canadian Ragweed covering “Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver”. I know Les Claypool is an avid fly fisherman but the Professor and I saw Cody Canada cover this Primus song a few years ago in New Braunfels and I just feel like seeing some Cross Canadian live…since it seems that won’t be happening for awhile.

I am feeling pretty good after the race, my hands are achy and still a bit swollen, my legs are covered in poison ivy, I am eating like a ravenous beast, and I am super sleepy tired. So bear with me as I try to encapsulate a complex and dense adventure into a shorthand highlight reel. (If you want to cut to the chase, there is a slideshow at the end of this post.) Yall have been with me every step of the way for the past year so I want to give you a flavor of this wild expedition…

SATURDAY – DAY #1

I did not enjoy the first day. There were just so many damn boats to avoid and navigate. Everything was so amped up, I tweaked my back at the second portage literally 15 minutes into the race so that was stressing me out.

The first day on the upper San Marcos River is the hairiest section with fast narrow turns, tree limbs and stumps coming at you in rapid fire pace, and more portages than the law allows. Combat paddling at its finest. We had to portage a little island just after the start, Rio Vista rapids, Cummings Dam which is at least 24 feet high and was a total backlog of stressed out amped up racers and boats. Chaos.

We navigated the old broken down mill rapids seamlessly having scouted it during training. I was pretty proud of our execution there. Then we had Cottonseed Rapids which we also had a plan…that went so-so. I wasn’t at the top of my game there. But hey, we made it through unscathed so that’s the most important thing. We also stayed upright at Broken Bone rapids which has tumped Phil and me (and Banning and me!) the last four or five training runs.

We portaged both Martindale Dam and the low water bridge at the same time. That felt like a long haul. I was cursing every ounce of food and gear we brought. Phil estimates our 45lb boat was about 125lb fully loaded. And we packed lean. Things just add up…ounces turn into pounds fast.

The first checkpoint was at Staples Dam which was another weighty portage.

Things went smoothly until our second checkpoint at the Luling 90 Bridge which was a chaotic handoff. There were just so many spectators and recreational crowds and tubers. It was a nutty blur.

We plowed ahead to Zedler Mill and the Luling Dam which we portaged really well. We had a plan, communicated efficiently. It’s a pretty narly takout without much bank, then up and over a low concrete wall, push through the spectators to get the 24-foot boat lined up just right. And then we worked the boat down the 30ft rocky slope. This was our last major obstacle in daylight hours.

I was very glad the first day and the upper section was over. I did not enjoy the intensity of it all, I was worried about my back, and Seadrift seemed like a faint dream way too far away.

SATURDAY – NITE #1

I had been pretty nervous about night paddling. There are just so many obstacles that jump out during the day, I couldn’t imagine how it would go.

It was dusk at the Son of Ottine Dam which we awkwardly portaged river right. In retrospect with the high water we could have run the dam, but it wasn’t too bad. We had to swim the boat awhile down the right bank to find a place to get back in. I nailed a few rocks and tree branches which beat me up a little but that’s okay since it was my poor call to portage right.

We reached Ottine Dam at dark with a backlog of about three boats trying to portage up the hill. While waiting our turn we put away sunglasses and hats and rigged the boat for night travel, mounting the bow light and getting headlamps out. Or did we do the bow light after the portage? At any rate, the 6-man aluminum boat that was blocking the portage path had to move aside to let others get by. We actually portaged Ottine – usually a beast – very well. We worked the boat up the 40- foot dirt bank, dragged it across the grassy field up top and then lowered it down the narrow cut on the other side back down to the river.

Here was a surprise for me…I liked running at night. I felt reinvigorated and for the first time in the race, a little bit more on my game. The sun wasn’t beating down on us which was relief. Since I was in the bow I had to focus keenly on the potential stumps in the beam of our light, which actually gave me something to zone in on as paddling became monotonous.

The next checkpoint was Palmetto low water bridge. Again we talked through a strategy and executed well. It’s a dangerous spot with a sweeper on one side and the water level just inches under the bridge which means the boat could easily get sucked under. There is a bend in the river so without a straightaway view, the bridge comes up very fast.

But we were on the ready, I jumped out on the right and scurried to the bank which gave me leverage to get up on the bridge while Phil got the boat lined up closer to the bridge. Then he jumped out and we hoisted it up and over….and we were on our way.

It was a long eerie night. From Palmetto to the Gonzales Dam the river calms down quite a bit. Just a stump here and there – I felt like the sailors on the Titanic on lookout for icebergs. It was somewhat relaxing paddling at night, the stars were gorgeous, the frogs were loud.

I’d say relaxing…until about 1:30 am when it went past relaxing right into soporific. We had to pull over for a rest. We found what we thought was a nice dirt-packed ledge above a bank where we could pull out. We grabbed out Ridgerest pads, took off shoes to dry feet, set watch alarm for an hour, and turned the lights off.

Unfortunately your body starts dumping heat, your clothes are wet and it’s freezing. Mosquitoes were vile. I think we only slept about 15 or 20 minutes so we picked it up after about 45 minutes rest and paddled on.

We reached the confluence where the San Marcos flows into the Guadalupe. I was happy to reach this landmark. About three more miles to the Gonzales Dam…

We were getting low on steam and a little bored so we started singing. Different musical tastes and lack of brain cells made it hard to think of songs we could both sing…but somehow we stumbled on the genre ‘Soft Rock of the 70s’ and made some progress.

We made it though with rounds of ‘Bye Bye Miss American Pie’, ‘Country Roads’, ‘Take It Easy’, ‘Life’s Been Good To Me So Far’, and ‘You Are The Woman That I’ve Always Dreamed Of’…let me save you a trip to Google…Firefall sang it.

We reached the Gonzales Dam around 4:30ish am? You may remember the Gonzales Dam from the post about the dead cow. We were keen not to follow the hefer over this fatal fall so we paddled carefully looking for the best path up. We saw the safety light and a solo racer trying to hoist his boat up the dirt bank.

This was a tough portage. Phil got up on land and tied the the bow rope around a tree. I climbed my way out of the water onto land and we inched the boat up the hill. Then we scouted around for the best way down. Nothing popped out. Argh. So begrudgingly we began to work the boat down these awkward rocks and boulders.

Whew. Another mile or so to the Gonazales checkpoint where we napped for almost an hour until sunrise.

SUNDAY – DAY #2

Groggy. Wow. Didn’t I got to college? Wasn’t I well trained in all-nighters? The sun was bright enough to lull me to nodding off and the stretch toward the Hocheim checkpoint is about as boring as it gets. No bridges, no spectators, no other racers – the boats has spread out by this point.

It was a long 38-mile grind to the next checkpoint. We had to dip in the water often to wake up. We reached the Hocheim pretty whipped. My back no longer hurt, but my knee ached and my fanny was starting to hurt. We were almost to the halfway mileage point and got a little testy with each other. We had to set the reset button on the team demeanor and grabbed a 30-45 minute nap before pressing on.

We finally started to run with a few other boats as we neared the Cheapside checkpoint. At this point in the race I started to get into a groove.

SUNDAY – NITE #2

We geared the boat for night at Cheapside and made way short leg to Cuero checkpoint. I think this is what they call Hallucination Alley – and it did not disappoint.

Pretty much everything looked like Mardi Gras floats or Carnival costumes coming at me. I also saw a herd of Jack Russells, a deer corpse pierced through a stump, several mini mt rushmores, and a washing machine.

After the Cuero checkpoint we were on the prelim course which Phil and I both recognized fairly well at the start. Then it started to seem different. And it was a WILD ride. In the dark of night in high water we came up fast on the series of Nursery Rapids which were hairy. Am thrilled we didn’t tump. Whew.

I think it was about 4am when we really needed sleep. I could tell when Phil nodded off in the back because the boat jiggy-jagged. He could tell the same. It’s a miracle we didn’t fall asleep and jerk and tump the boat. Once we decided to sleep, it took ONE LONG GRUELING HOUR to find a slice of the bank where we could pull over. That was tedious.

MONDAY – DAY #3

It was a good nap – about an hour? We woke at dawn excited to have two days and two night behind us. The end was in sight….it was possible that we could reach Seadrift without another full night on the water.

We reached the Victoria checkpoint about 8am in great spirit and super focused. We ditched trash, reapplied Desitin, unloaded unnecessary items, and were paddling by 8:29.

Another brutally boring hot long stretch to the Dupont checkpoint.

Our upbeat euphoria in Victoria wore off after a few hours. We took breaks to dunk in water but a lot faster – Seadrift was a real carrot at this point. We had opportunity to hit the finish line before midnite.

Luckily we finally paddle up to our friends Max & Mike and ran with them over ten miles which was fun and took our minds off the monotony and pain. My fanny was killing me in that seat. My shoulders were really aching.

Without question this was the most mind-bending, boring, hot, achy, un-scenic stretch of the race. But we were making headway. We reached the Dupont checkpoint and our bank crew was excited at our pace. Our team captain was taking food orders to have waiting for us in Seadrift since we’d arrive middle of the night. The thought of a pile of pasta, a dry bed, and the cool sensation of an ice sock around my neck made me feel a ton better.

Just two more legs until the finish line! That was pretty exciting.

Of course we also had two of the our biggest obstacles: the logjams below Dupont and the bay, which is always a wild card.

Luckily we hit the logjams during the day as they were gnarly. They weren’t as bad as the tales from previous years. The first logjam was the toughest, and we fouled up our approach which added some extra work for us. In retrospect we think our original plan was probably sound but who knows. We went conservative. We were dragging that boat through brambles and tall weeds and bushes and fire ants and poison ivy and mosquitoes. It was pretty nasty.

I guess the logjam created about a 500 yard portage for us? I’m not great judging distances so who knows. I will get Phil to weigh in on that.

But we made it through!

The next two logjams were cupcakes compared to that. We actually rammed through them at their weak points and were able to jump some logs and/or push up on over them so we didn’t have to carry the boat again.

My body was wearing down. Shoulders ached. Bottom ached. Knees sore. Sleep deprivation was getting to me. I knew we were racing the clock for a good finish but I needed a minute at the Saltwater Barrier checkpoint. I laid down for 5 minutes. Then I just walked around to get the blood flowing and stretched my arms. It helped. As did the positive vibe from Phil and the team and crowd at the Barrier. It was our last checkpoint! Next stop, Seadrift!!

MONDAY – NITE #3

It was pretty exciting to think the next time my head hit the pillow would be a nice bed in a hotel with AC. That said, my body still ached and we had to cross the bay at night.

There were about ten more river miles until the mouth of the bay. It was hard to stay awake when it got dark. The trees all looked like wacky paper mache. My legs were itching like mad from the nastiess of the logjam portage. Phil and I discussed our strategy for the bay. We agreed on where we wanted to cross and our route up the marshy island and across the barge canal. He was very clear that for our fast but tippy boat to make the bay crossing upright I would need to paddle hard, strong arms, vertical catch with the paddle, perfect form.

I assured him I could do it despite the fact my arms were withering and my paddle was barely dipping sideways into the water. But I knew the challenge of the bay would lift me up into action. We decided we would wait to put on our spray skirt and life vests until the mouth of the bay where there is a grassy patch around the right side of the mouth. If we tumped in the spray skirt it would be nearly impossible to wiggle back into our tippy boat without a bank and terra firma.

It was a long slow dark eerie grind down river and the banks closed in on us. It gets very narrow down there. Fish camps and river houses disappeared and the land turned marshy on either side.

I thought I was hallucinating again when the water looked like it had a tide to it. I looked again, “Is it my imagination or are there waves in this river?”

Whoa! In a nanosecond the waves became bigger and we were on a roller coaster. Boom! We were at the mouth of the bay and trying to paddle upright in 3 foot rolling waves!

Phil steered us to the right point of the mouth of the bay where we hopped out and clung to a scraggly dead tree in the water. The boat went sideways and we couldn’t get turned around. Crisis. Immediate need was life vests. He got mine undone in a flash and handed it to me.

I hopped out of the boat while the waves were lifting us up and down dramatically. I clung to a branch which broke in my hand, I grabbed another one which broke, then finally grabbed a solid one. I wrapped my knees around the branch and awkwardly bobbed in water putting on my life vest. Then it was Phil’s turn.

The waves just kept undulating us up and down. Just as we had our life vests on and we were going to try and decide what to do next we saw the light of another boat rocking toward us in the waves.

Turns out as we were clinging to this tree trying to keep our boat from swamping, the grassy knoll was about a foot or two behind us in the dark.

We pulled the boat up as did our fellow racers, Gary and Kristen, a father-daughter team. Soon another boat came, Jamie and his son Brian. And then our friend Max and Mike arrived as the rollers were about 4 feet.

We all gathered with our boats on this grassy point at the mouth of the bay, clearly not getting to cross that night.

We kicked around for about an hour, looking for a spot of dry grass that wasn’t six inches deep in water. Max/Mike and Jamie/Brian decided to sleep there as they could stay in their boats. We couldn’t sleep in our boat so we decided to paddle back upstream a few miles to solid ground and a few hours sleep, hoping the bay would be calm at daylight.

Ugh. No hotel room. No decent food. No finish line Monday night. Just more paddling, wet clothes, sore body and a violent attack of poison ivy itchy like mad.

We slept until just before dawn. Mosquitoes were bad which had me hopeful the winds were dying down. No such luck, winds were howling, trees blowing. My poison ivy was burning and I was scratching like a junkyard dog.

I took some Motrin, slathered the last of the Desitin on my poison ivy, and we labored over the map of the bay again. We decided to go for it.

We paddle the same few miles back to the mouth. Waves again inside the river but not quite as bad. We decided to tackle the bay and not retreat which meant to get out of the mouth upright we had to paddle as hard as possible and not stop until we crossed over.

It was nuts! Winds were sustained 25mph with gusts that almost took us down. The angle of the wind and waves were favorable though, save the initial crossing. We made it to the marshy island in the middle and traveled along it as long as we could.

When we reached the tip and made the turn across the barge canal the wind and waves were too much and we tumped. But we managed to get back in the boat and paddle across the barge canal. Then we were on the seawall and Seadrift was in sight!

We knew we would be walking and/or swimming the boat at some point but we wanted to paddle as long as possible. I gave it all I had. I literally was paddling as hard as I physically could, with my best form and best stroke possible. I couldn’t take me eyes off the waves directly in line in front of me for fear I would shift my weight and tip us. I was breathing deeply and controlled like a yoga class to keep my hips loose and one with the boat so we could move with the waves.

There was the pavilion in sight! There was the flagpole at the finish line! There was my family and our team captain who driven up to the top of the seawall to look for us. They scrambled back in their truck to get back to the finish line and we paddled as the bay got rougher.

As we closed in on the finish line we tumped, but it was shallow and we walked the final yards in. It was exhilarating. Crossing that finish line and walking up those steps to meet my family was one of the greatest feelings I’ve ever experienced.

Whew. Sorry to type so fast and use such poor syntax but I am a little short on energy and time at the moment. That said I have been dying to share the quick story with you…there’s more to tell but that will come. For now, all I have to say is THANK YOU to Phil, Monica, my family, my friends, and all of you for cheering so hard!

We did it. 39th place out of 92 boats. Finished in 73 hours and 21 minutes. My first Safari finish.

We were wrong. In fact, we topped it. If you don’t feel like tripping over my clumsy long-winded writing, feel free to scroll down and enjoy the tunes and pics in the montage. If you want to stick with me here I will try and cover the highlights.

Like the camping. Beautiful weather, 80’s and sunshine all day, chilly at night in the 40’s with a bright full moon and tall trees dripping in moss. Perfection. We camped with good friends from Mobile and upon arrival immediately befriended the crew from Tampa who were camping next to us. Great new friends! We merged camps and cocktails and snacks and laughed around the fire for hours on end.

At our very first show I saw a groovy festie dude twirling a stick and dancing in a sarong and that’s when it hit me: Manskirts are perfectly acceptable hotness at Springfest. I really cooed and charmed and cajoled and begged the Professor to rock the manskirt this weekend. Denied. (Although I do think he was considering it at one point. I saw his vehement resistance starting to crack.) Basically all the guys in our crew said they would only do it if so-and-so did it…but only one of the four guys in our group stepped up to the manskirt plate. Granted he is Colombian and has long dark hair and the accent to match the manskirt, but nonetheless, special kudos go to Antonio for embracing the manskirt sarong – or as he calls it, the Manwrong. Manwrong…but oh so right.

The music was off the charts. We saw Dread Clampitt, The Mosier Brothers, Jonathan Edwards, The Belleville Outfit, Robert Earl Keen, Scythian, Donna The Buffalo, Jim Lauderdale, Ruthie Foster and Leftover Salmon. Whew! Did I miss anyone?

Liner Notes:

The Mosier Brothers – loved them

The Belleville Outfit – the find of the festival. They were all the talk at the merch table. They are from right here in Austin and have a conncetion with Warren Hood of the Waybacks.

Robert Earl Keen – seen him dozen times and he never disappoints. Played all the songs I needed, flashing his trademark grin all the while. REK delivered.

Scythian – What can I say about Scythian. Two years ago someone on the Drake site encouraged us to go see Scythian. We didn’t get the magic. But they have developed legions of fans in the past two years. I somehow got involved in Scythian sticker distribution (good looking sticker for a boat or a cooler by the way) and we decided we should give Scythian another chance. When we wandered up they were covering “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight” by Cutting Crew. The Professor and I remain non-Scythian fans. Which is too bad because we have hundreds of Scythian stickers pouring out of every pocket of every backpack.

Donna The Buffalo – Herd Of Em?  Love love love. I think we are officially becoming part of The Herd. We saw a couple of their shows during the weekend and loved them all. Especially the night show where I had a major hoop dancing breakthrough. I have been practicing my hoop dancing off & on for two years – ever since last Springfest. Despite my efforts, I wasn’t getting any better. But we met a hoop maker who helped me find the right size hoop (and explained to the Professor in detail how to make me one for me) and I could do it! I was a hooping fool! We were both so enthralled by my hooping breakthrough and the hoop-making instructions that we didn’t notice that the guy had a trout on his hat until we got home and saw the pictures. On what planet would we miss that? Apparently hooping to Donna The Buffalo.

Jim Lauderdale – Knock me over with a feather this guy can rock the Manuel western wear. As you may recall I was so star struck when I met Lauderdale face-to-face two years ago that I literally couldn’t speak. Vindication! I raced to the meet-n-greet after his show and words actually came out of my mouth and we had our picture taken together. His afternoon show was a real treat because we were joined by a couple from Tallahassee, Jeff & Leah, that the Professor is friends with. I actually met Jeff briefly last summer fishing the Missouri in Montana…fun to reconnect, meet his wife Leah, and enjoy music together. Look forward to more tunes and good times with these new friends.

Ruthie Foster – Sister’s got pipes. Period, paragraph. She blew the proverbial roof off the alfresca joint. And great hooping music. I heart Ruthie Foster. And everyone did as well.

Leftover Salmon – Let’s face it, millions of dirtbags can’t be wrong. Initially I wasn’t blown away by the few songs on my ipod but seeing them at midnight, with the tiki torches, the balloons bouncing around, the stick dancers, the live version was divine. We had a ball.

Of course the fun didn’t end with the last act each nite. On Friday night we laughed so hard around the campfire and found ourselves still awake at 2am. So we ventured across the field to the fabled Drum Circle. Not only did we go to the drum circle, somehow half our crew ended up participating in the drum circle. Let’s just say, even though the Professor wouldn’t don the manskirt, his stock went up with his bongo skills.

The second night we skipped the drum circle because we found this uber hip tent, trimmed in Christmas lights and marked with Bill Monroe and Vassar shrines. It was the Quartermoon Band tent and they kicked in around 3am in the campgrounds, picking and grinning and jamming with anyone and everyone. I requested “Rollin In My Sweet Babys Arms” and found myself in the round singing a round. Crazy fun.

Needless to say transition from Springfest to real life is a harsh one. I don’t think Little Chick will appreciate me hoop dancing in the carpool line in front of all her friends. So I am going to watch my own montage again, and drift off to images of mandolins and Spanish moss and tiki torches and banjoes and moonlight and campfire laughter…Springfest.

To get things started this morning, Banning and I ran our own shuttle, traveling to the Big Webberville boat ramp, only to learn the park was closed until 8 am. Why does my life so often track with Clark Griswold? No matter, we decided to cruise back up to the Little Webberville takeout instead. From there, we drove back to Austin to begin our paddle from our regular point at the boathouse near the Four Seasons Hotel. We experienced many firsts today, not the least of which was carrying the aluminum beast with actual gear. For the first time we had our water jugs, life jackets, firstaid kit, and food. And it was all heavy. We are researching dehydrated food and powdered meals as we speak. Wow, that canoe was heavy.

We were on our own for the familiar Town Lake stretch, assuming the rest of the crew would catch up with us soon. (Trust me, we saw them paddle in the Town Lake race series. They are fast.) We reached the Longhorn dam and had to walk around a bit to determine the best way to portage. That’s when we ran into Marilyn and her husband Tom. Marilyn was rejoining Deb’s expedition after a few days break, and would journey all the way to Matagorda from this point. We struggled with our heavier-than-ever canoe, and Tom insisted we use their wheels to portage along the bike path.

Wheels. Oh my heavenly invention. The wheel cart made all the difference. Unfortunately there won’t be any flat, clear cutaways on the Safari where wheels will work. Hence we probably need to stick to carrying the canoe while training and start counting ounces on our gear. Did I mention how heavy that canoe was yesterday?

We scaled the canoe down a steepish rocky slope and put on the water – our first time off Town Lake! Hoo-yah!! I felt like a teenager who was ditching the learner’s permit and hitting the open road for the first time. And guess what? There was actual current. Moving water! I was in heaven.

The river was clear, the sun was bright. We saw big schools of white bass and carp and spotted gar. I paddled my little guts out and for the first time actually felt what it was like to move the aluminum beast. She rode like she was on rails. I saw a few caddis flutter by as if to say, “Don’t worry, you may be taking on a completely new sport but a river is still a river and it is always familiar territory for you.” Then I saw this mayfly on top of the water and decided to give him a lift on my knee for awhile. I know we weren’t supposed to be adding weight to the boat, but I paddled a little harder with him there, my own personal figurehead.

It didn’t take long for Deb and her crew to catch up with us. Suddenly we had a flotilla of six other boats and lots of cool, experienced paddlers to get to know. We learned so much today, it’s hard to quantify.

We had one more portage which was more good Safari training. There were a few spots with current, but most of the river miles were wide and slow. It was a great backdrop to work out the kinks on our drinking tubes, both literally and figuratively. I learned a good lesson about not eating too much at one snack break…indigestion. Apparently all the blood is in your arms and since you are seated for hours on end, digestion is not as prolific as normal.

It was a gorgeous day and a beautiful section of water I am thrilled to have experienced. We covered almost 30 miles in six-and-a-half hours, made some new friends, and learned so much. Many thanks to Debbie, Mike, Janie, Curt, Ginsie, Stephanie and Marilyn for inviting us to tag along and sharing lots of advice and plenty of laughs on the water. Enjoy the slideshow and GOOD LUCK to Debbie on the rest of her journey!

So despite the fact that cold temps and raging winds have thwarted all three of our recent Louisiana redfishing trips, we did as cajuns do and decided to lache pas la patate. Last Sunday we loaded up fishing gear and hope for Hopedale as we ventured back over to Louisiana to fish with Travis Holeman.

Finally. The sun came out. The winds laid down. The water warmed up. And the fish started moving around. Pretty quick out of the gate we were sight casting to reds and The Professor came up victorious a few times before lunch.

It was my turn up on the bow, but suffice to say my cast was rusty rusty rusty! I was struggling. I had half a dozen opportunities to sight cast at several reds but couldn’t deliver. Everyone was patient why I got into a better rhythm with the 8-weight. About midday I finally did connect and found some tension on the rod. Only problem? I was boogying to beat of a different drum…black, not red. And I foul hooked it.

It was wild, I saw the whole thing happen. I was urgently casting at three or four fish directly in front of the boat moving straight toward me. They rebuffed my offering and decided to scat as I watched this 35-pound lug move from left to right while I was still stripping. I felt tension but knew his body was too far right of my fly for it to be a proper eat. So this beast of a black drum took me to my backing with a tarpon hook and a redfish fly in his ass. As you can see I have some work to do on my grip-n-grin with a 35+ pound black drum foul hook fish.

Luckily mother nature started working with me and compensated for my poor casting. The sunshine continued to warm up the water so the fish started moving and eating with vigior. I finally caught my first Louisiana redfish.

And in the words of our esteemed captain, at this point we proceeded to jimmy jam ‘em. Singles, doubles, triples. My biggest was about ten pounds. The Professor’s about fifteen. But we caught a heap of reds and knocked the voodoo off. Whew! Finally.

Big thanks to Travis Holeman for a good old fashioned jimmyjam on the water . Enjoy the slideshow and remember the key lesson here: Don’t Let Go of the Potato.

I may not be an expert paddler, but there’s one thing I know something of, and that’s music. And rivers. So in an effort to get my corpulent yuletide fanny off the couch and back on the treadmill, I’ve created a whopper of a playlist with great songs about RIVERS.

I have to imagine a few of you could chime in on this topic. So tell me, my huckleberry friend, what is your favorite river song?

In the meantime, enjoy the flow of these selections…