Foot in Mouth Award

Stop the presses! The Members of the WaterTribe, the group that organizes the annual 300-mile canoe/kayak race from St. Petersburg to Key Largo, has recognized the valiant, albeit ill-timed, attempt by The Insomniac paddling team to complete this year’s Everglades Challenge in a 45-foot outrigger canoe.

The Insomniacs' exploits were chronicled by team member Terry Tomalin, a.k.a., H.D. Agua, in the pages of the St. Petersburg Times and on the Wildside blog over the past few weeks.

The paddlers had to pull out of the competition 180 miles into the race because: A)  they ran out of time or B) they were spineless wimps (Depending on who you talk to.) 

At the race finish, WaterTribe member Marty Sullivan awarded the team a perpetual trophy, the “Foot in Mouth Award.”

The Insomniacs, who were back in St. Petersburg lounging in a hot tub, missed the awards ceremony where it was noted that: "Underestimating the potential difficulties of a Challenge is a common mistake. Prior to the event, this often leads to rash predictions of success. However, we WaterTribers have a motto: "Hubris Never Goes Unpunished." As such, we now have a recurring award, "Shoots Off  Mouth Into Foot." Congratulations to the team.”

Meanwhile, The Insomniacs, which is comprised of Tomalin (H.D. Agua), Dr. George Stovall (Sandspur), Darry Jackson, (Dare-Jack), Casey LaLomia (Kauai Kid) and Aaron Freedman (Air Doc), have threatened to enter the race again next year, this time in tandem kayaks.

As holders of the coveted “Foot in Mouth Award,” the team must deliver the trophy to Key Largo when The Tribe meets again next March. Coming in 2010: Revenge of the Insomniacs.

Sign up for next year's Everglades Challenge

The 2009 Everglades Challenge is over,a nd once again the team of Lumpy and Bumpy in a Tornado, a 20-foot Olympic class catamaran, blew away the rest of the field finishing in 48 hours and 39 minutes.

This year, the WaterTribe had seven different classes in the 300-mile canoe/kayak/sailboat race from St. Petersburg to Key Largo: Class 1, Expedition Kayaks and Canoes; Class 2, Racing Kayaks and Canoes; Class 3, Sailing Kayaks and Canoes; Class 4, Small Sailboats (mono hulls); Class 5, Small Sailboats (Catamarans and Trimarans); Class 6, Exhibition Class for Small Boats with Electric Auxiliary; Class 6OC, Exhibition Class for Hawaiian Outrigger Canoes.

This year, 34 teams entered the race, ten of which, including The Insomniacs, did not finish. The lack of wind made it difficult for many of the larger sailing craft to finish.

Other winners included River Slayer and ArdieO in the Class 1, Double Male Category. They finished in 3 days, 11 hours and 55 minutes. Roo and Tinker won Class 4 by finishing in 3 days, 18 hours and 40 minutes. The fastest single paddler was Salty Frgo who covered the course in finished in 4 days 10 hours and 3 minutes.

registration is now open for next year's challenge. It takes about a year to plan for one of these adventure races. To learn more, check out an article that Steve Isaac, a.k.a., The Chief, wrote in 2002, after the inaugural WaterTribe Challenge.

The truth about hypothermia

Terry Tomalin, suffering from hypothermia during the Everglades Challenge canoe adventure, is aided by George Stovall. [DOUGLAS R. CLIFFORD | Times]

How can a veteran outdoorsman with state of the art foul weather gear get hypothermia in the middle of a 300-mile outrigger can trip. The answer is simple, if you can do the math.

Paddle a canoe or kayak at high speed for hours on end and you are going to burn some calories. Aaron Freedman, a.k.a., Air Doc, is a veteran outdoors racer. Once, in the infamous coast-to-coast adventure race across the state of Florida, Freedman and his teammates got hypothermia on a 95 degree day.

"It was at the end of the race," he explained. "We were all exhausted and pretty well burned out. We got off the bikes and it started to rain. That was all it took."

If you continue to burn more calories than you take in, sooner or later, your body will be at an energy deficit. Stop moving for a few minutes and your internal furnace may go out. Once it goes out, it is hard to get it lit again.

Freedman estimates that we burned about 600 calories an hour, and at 20 hours a day, that is 12,000 calories.

"How much food is that?" I asked Freedman after we stopped at the Naples Pier snack bar. "About three hot dogs an hour," he replied.

Complicating the issue was my excessive consumption of caffeine. Dr. George Stovall, a.k.a., Sandspur, had told me to lay off the Red Bull. But in the week before the race, I never got more than four hours of sleep a night. Caffeine, my presumed savior, ended up being my downfall.

Tomorrow: The rest of the fleet.

Lessons learned

One day after bailing out of the 2009 Everglades Challenge, I'm still trying to figure out what we could do better next time. One of the biggest challenges we faced, and probably will always face, is how to get photos and stories filed in a timely manner.

In addition to our standard paddling/camping equipment, Photojournalist Doug Clifford and I carried two laptop computers, two video cameras, four  still cameras, multiple lenses, several microphones, a digital sound recorder, two cell phones and reception enhancers, as well a massive sack of assorted batteries and power packs.

It is hard enough paddling for 18 to 20 hours a day, but that hard part is that when you stop, your want to eat, drink, rest by the fire, not sit around in your wet rain gear and type a story or transmit photos. Looking back, I think we can streamline our multi-media equipment. Next year, we will be lighter, faster, stronger.

I am sure there are some who read this blog over the past month who will also want to do the 2010 Everglades Challenge. A word of advice. If you think you can do it, you can. If you think you can't, you can't. We knew going into this race that the wind would be against us and are chances of success were slim, but we went ahead anyway.

We were hoping for the best in terms of weather, and got the worst. The skies were clear, but the wind came from the wrong direction. Had it been cold and windy, we would have been uncomfortable, but we would have been fast.

If we had allowed for more time - seven days just to be safe - instead of the five that we had set aside, we would have finished. Next time, we'll plan a little better. You should too.

Tomorrow: The Truth About Hypothermia

What About Next Year?

No sooner had we packed up the 45-foot outrigger canoe and headed for home than one of our crew members, Darry Jackson, made everybody promise that we would try again next year, but in a more versatile craft.

"How about tandem sea kayaks?" he asked. "That way, we can make it regardless of the conditions."

Dr. George Stovall, a.k.a., Sandspur, had done this same trip once by himself before there was a WaterTribe, and then again in 2001 with me in the inaugural Everglades Challenge.

"I'm in," he said. "So am I," replied Casey LaLomia, a.k.a. The Kauai Kid. "Me too," said Aaron Freedman, the Air Doc.

"What about you?" Jackson asked.

"I don't know..." I replied. This trip had taken quite a toll on me. I had to work two weeks straight just to get all my responsibilities at that office covered. The trip itself was also stressful, but not because we paddled for 20 hours at a stretch, but because Photo Journalist Doug Clifford and I had a myriad of logistical problems to overcome just to get these photographs and blog posts filed in a timely manner.

Try paddling all day and night, finally stopping, but before you can rest, stetting down in your wet rain gear and firing off a few quick stories.

But that is not the reason why I wouldn't do it again. The real reason is that I am scared. Yes, scared.

I had no fear when I swam from Alcatraz, rafted down the Amazon, or even when I bungee-jumped off a 180-foot railroad bridge in New Zealand. But there is one thing I dare not do, and that is get on my wife's bad side.

I'm already operating from a deficit since I've left her alone with the kids for five days and that is ten times as hard as paddling an outrigger canoe 300 miles. I already owe her big time. I'll have to watch ''Grey's Anatomy'' with her and act like I enjoy it for the next year and still not break even.

But I'll start working on it now, and practice every day in my best puppy dog tone, "Honey, please can I go?"

What Went Wrong?

Driving back from Everglades City, the Insomniacs debriefed. The big question was, "What went wrong?"

Dr. George Stovall, a.k.a., Sandspur, who is also an experienced mountaineer, explained, "Nothing went wrong. The weather did not cooperate."

Several times over the past 40 years, Stovall has tried to climb mountains in Alaska, Mexico and South America and had to turn back because of the conditions. "You give it your best shot, and if you don't make it, you come back and try again," he said.

When we decided to try to travel 300 miles from St. Petersburg to Key Largo in a Hawaiian Sailing Canoe, we knew that we would need the wind at our backs if we wanted to get there in five days or less. What we underestimated was the time it would take to cover that same distance by paddling.

Even working 20-hour days, day after day, we still fell short of our goal. So now, when we don't show up in Flamingo by the specified time, the Checkpoint Captain will record the phrase, "D.N.F." for "Did Not Finish" in the log book.

"I hate that," Darry Jackson said. "I don't like starting something and not finishing."

Up Next: What About Next Year?

Call it a Day

Late Tuesday afternoon, listening to the weather forecast at the Everglades National Park Ranger Station, we discussed our options. Should we press on and try to continue to fight the wind for 120 miles to Key Largo? Or should we call it a day, lick our wounds, and start planning for next year?

At that point, we were still ranked in the top ten in the standings. But, unlike the other teams, we had to file blog posts and photographs for the readers back home. This cost us valuable time.

If we were to continue on, we would need at least two days to cross the Everglades in our 45-foot outrigger canoe. Eight years ago in sea kayaks, Sandspur and I had covered the same distance.

With that in mind, we all agreed that the earliest we could arrive in Key Largo was Friday. The problem was that we all had to be back home on Thursday. Our team captain, Dr. George Stovall, had to see patients on Thursday. Doug Clifford had an urgent family matter to deal with as well. And I had to attend a good friend's memorial service that day.

So, after three days and paddling more than 170 miles, we decided to pull out of the race. So we climbed back in the canoe and headed a few miles across the bay to Chokoloskee to Check Point Two. Suddenly, the wind started to blow ... and for about a half hour, we had a leisurely sail in our Hawaiian Outrigger Sailing Canoe.

At the check in, we opened up the log book and entered that we had arrived. Then we told Check Point Captain that we were not continuing.

Up Next: What Went Wrong.

-- Terry Tomalin, Times Outdoors Editor

Tracking the Insomniacs' wild trek

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Air Doc

Aaron D. Freedman, 43, was born in Michigan but moved down here, well, because Michigan is cold in case you have never been there. In fact it is so cold, they have this stuff there called snow, which means you can't paddle an outrigger canoe from St. Pete to Key largo anytime you want.

Freedman, graduated from Boca Ciega High School in 1982 and joined the Army because they said he could be a general and have his own tank. They lied. He ended up in Germany, another cold place, where Freedman stood guard on, you guessed it, some general's tank.

Standing there in the dark on one cold night, he had an epiphany...if he could just make some money off this cold thing, he wouldn't have to look at another tank.  So he enrolled vocational school for air conditioning and eventually started his own company called Total Air.

But that's not why he's paddling to Key Largo. Freedman, a.k.a. Air Doc, is an adventurer racer, which means he can run, ride and paddle, all day and all night, and never get cranky. Which is good when you are on a team called The Insomniacs.

He's done races that have lasted anywhere from 30 hours to 3 days for Bill Jacksons Adventure Racing. He also enjoys marathons, ultra distant marathons and the ancient Japanese Art of calligraphy. Just kidding about the last part.

"I consider myself an adventure junky," he explained. "I enjoy pushing myself to breaking point of mind, body and spirit."

Which is good, since your five teammates plan to make you paddle while the rest of them sleep.

The moment of truth

First the good news: We are more than halfway there. Now the bad news: The ranger said there are no campsites available in Everglades National Park. So, it looks like we will have to spend the night in town.

Fortunately, we found a double-wide on stilts that we can rent for the night. After sleeping at boat ramps and on docks, we are all looking forward to the upgrade.

But the weather report does not look favorable. The winds are supposed to blow out of the east, southeast, the same direction we want to go. It seems like wherever we try to go, the weather gods have been against us.

The time has come for drastic measures. If we cannot get the wind to clock around out of the north, west or east, we are doomed to failure. So, tonight we plan to make amends. If we were Druids, we would probably sacrifice a goat and dance around a bonfire in our bathrobes.

But we are not. We are Americans. So we plan to make our peace with Buddha, Jesus, Allah, Zeus, Odin, L. Ron Hubbard, and, just to be safe, James Brown, the Godfather of Soul. Then, maybe our luck will finally change.

If not, we can’t possibly make it to Key Largo in time. We all have to be back on Friday. I would much rather face nature’s fury then the wrath of my wife.