Estero River Challenge

Day 1  Estero River Challenge, Easter Sunday, March 31 2013

Ft DeSoto State Park to Oscar Sherrer State Park
47 miles (with tacking)





We are training for the Michigan Challenge and Everglades Challenge 2014. These are long distance, short time, expedition races in small, human and sail powered boats.  We formulated a mini challenge of our own to familiarize ourselves with the Everglades Challenge (EC) course, and our new Kruger Cruiser canoe.  Our route starts at Fort DeSoto State Park, near St Petersburg Florida, and follows the first 130 miles or so of the 300 mile EC course.

Now, many EC challengers would complete this distance in two days, but we made it easy on ourselves.  We planned to do about 40 miles the first day to camp at Oscar Sherrer State Park, then 40 miles the second day to camp at Cayo Costa State Park. We planned to rest a day at Cayo Costa, then do the final 40 miles on the fourth day to Koreshan State Park on the Estero River.

After two days of driving, we arrived at Ft Desoto on Saturday afternoon, and settled in to our campsite.  I was anxious after the busy transition from work to all the logistics of the trip.  We went for a short paddle in the evening to explore the route from the boat launch around Mullet Key to Tampa Bay. We were not sure if we would be allowed to access the beach at Mullet Key in the early morning hours, which is the normal launching site for the EC.  If the gate was closed, and we could not get to the beach, we would have to paddle a few extra miles to get to Tampa Bay in the morning.  On our short exploratory paddle in the evening, we did not have time to explore the full alternate route, and on the way back I felt tired paddling into the southerly wind.  The south wind was forecast for the next four days; a headwind for our entire trip to the south.  At night I worried about the logistics of the trip and whether everything would come together.

In the morning, we woke up at 5am, packed up our tent, and drove to the park gate.  Fortunately, it was open because of an Easter sunrise service on the beach.  We portaged our gear to the beach and I drove the car back to the boat launch where we had to park.  As soon as I left the car behind, and began running the few miles from the boat launch to the beach, I felt the anxiety disappear, and I began to feel the excitement of the trip.  We had a long way to go and I did not know for sure where we would sleep that night, but we were beginning a great adventure.

We were excited to launch from the beach at Mullet Key, like the many EC videos we had watched online.  It is a seven mile crossing of Tampa Bay; the longest open water crossing of our route.  This crossing was a concern to us in planning because if the weather was bad, our plan would be dashed from the start.  But luck was with us; the forecast was relatively benign.  Clear, with south wind at 5-10 knots.  A headwind, but mild. Could be a lot worse.

Shortly off the beach we cross a busy shipping channel.  We paused to let a freighter pass in front.  It reminded us of our home waters on the Detroit River, also a busy shipping channel.

It was a beautiful morning on Tampa Bay, with well-rounded waves of 1 ft or less. The headwind crossing the bay was light, but still slowed us down, and made me think about how far we had to go, and my arms felt tired already.  As we approached Anna Maria island, we crossed a shoal called the Bulkhead.  Waves or wakes that were invisible on the bay suddenly magnified and steepened. The Cruiser handles the waves well, so it was not a problem, but provided some excitement.

We pulled up to a tiny beach on the west end of the causeway to Anna Maria island to have our delayed breakfast; a hot meal we had packed in the thermos the night before.  Our friend Jim told us that he believed the Great Blue Herons were bigger in Florida than in Michigan.  We thought that they are the same size, but just closer because they seemed to be extremely tame.

I felt like the seven mile paddle into a headwind was a good workout, and we should set up the sailing rig in an effort to conserve our strength for the long journey ahead.  I hoped that the south wind would be turned to the west by the sea breeze in the afternoon, and fantasized about sailing down the length of Sarasota Bay.

In retrospect, perhaps we should have paddled along the windward shore, and kept the sailing rig stowed away.  We did succeed in sailing the length of Sarasota Bay, but we had to do a lot of tacking and we padded most of the time in an effort to maximize our southward progress.  The south wind picked up in the afternoon and built a steep chop on the bay.  We sailed on starboard tack until the chop built to the point where it was dousing Lauren and slowing us down, then we tacked toward the windward shore until the water was flatter. We paddled hard on port tack to keep the VMG positive.  My fantasy of laying back in the stern seat and sailing down Sarasota Bay at high speed was not realized.

After a long afternoon of battling wind, waves, and sun on Sarasota Bay, we reached the bridge at the south end.  We were very tired and ready for a break, but there was not an obvious place to land.  We looked at a spot that might have been a park, or might have been a private marina.  But we didn't want to detour even a few hundred yards to search for a place to land.  Instead we kept drifting along and paddling in the fading sea breeze, wanting to make progress toward camp.  We had only come 1/2 to 2/3 of the way to our destination for the night. The bay was narrowing into the intracoastal waterway channel, and we could see some greenery ahead, which made us think there may be a non-private place to stop in this urban setting.

It seemed to be a gift from God when we came upon a tiny shell beach in a mangrove island.  To this point, the shores were lined with sea walls, condos, and high-rise buildings, so it was truly a surprising and welcome development. We pulled in to pack up the sailing rig, eat and drink what we could, and get ready for night paddling. The sun was setting and we still had at least twelve miles to go.

Surprisingly, I felt refreshed as the sun set and we were paddling on flat water.  After the sun and wind of Sarasota Bay, it was a relief to paddle on flat water in the cool of the night.  The intracoastal waterway was narrow and lined with condos and million dollar homes.  Spring break partiers were reveling in the night.  We imagined how surprised they would be if we pulled up and asked for some Jello shots.  

After 10 pm, the refreshing effect of the night air was fading. I was feeling tired.  I had a sharp pain in my shoulders. I stared at the distant, blinking red lights marking the ICW channel, and willed them to get closer faster. I had time to think of various plan Bs. Why was I torturing myself instead of laying on the beach like a normal person on vacation? I imagined that we could get a cab in the morning to the nearest car rental office and retrieve our car, then lay on the beach.  I'm not proud of thinking these things, but it happened. My shoulders hurt real bad. On the bright side, there was no traffic on the ICW at night; the cruisers were all sleeping soundly in their yachts at anchor.

After a good long while, we approached the GPS waypoint that indicated the turn off the ICW to Oscar Sherer State Park.  It was around midnight.  We had to navigate through some canals in a neighborhood, then up a creek to the campsite we had reserved at the park.  The NOAA chart on the GPS and the waypoints I had marked did not totally match, and we were not sure which canal entrance we had to take. We were in no mood to paddle extra distance to explore.  Finally I recognized a gazebo that I had noted when looking at Google Maps at home, and we knew we were at the right canal entrance.  

We paddled through giant yachts and homes until the houses and sea walls gave way to mangroves.  We headed for the dark spot in the mangroves.  Our canoe scraped up on sandy bottom in two inches of water.  We had been paddling against the outgoing tide for several hours, so I immediately feared that the water had run out and we would not make it to our campsite.  We could survive sleeping in the boat, but it would not be pleasant.  I got out and walked around a little, but did not find deeper water.  We had to find the deep channel that I imagined would exist where the tidal creek flowed out.  We backtracked and tried again.  This time we tried a different dark spot in the mangroves and had success; water deep enough to paddle. We soon came upon the bridge that indicated we were going the right way.  Another mile or so of twists and turns through dark mangroves and we arrived as close to the GPS waypoint as we could get on the creek.  Still no sign of a campground through the foliage.  We spotted the best place to land under the dense canopy and moved in.  We hiked up a short trail through the woods and passed through someone's campsite to the campground road where we could identify our campsite number.  The landing spot at our campsite was not so good; twelve feet through black stinking mud at low tide, but we didn't care. We were ready for bed. We rinsed off quickly in the shower, and crawled in too tired too make dinner.

Day 2  Estero River Challenge, April 1 2013

Oscar Sherrer State Park to Hoagen Key
35 miles

I have read many stories of intrepid EC challengers who would grab a few hours of sleep and be off again before dawn.  This is not something I felt like doing.  When I woke up in the predawn hours, I rolled over and went back to sleep thinking of the taxi I would call in the morning to pick us up.  Around 7, we got up and tried to make up for the meals we had missed the day before by combining dinner with breakfast.  I mentioned the taxi concept to Lauren, but she reminded me of how long we had planned for this trip.  There would be other chances to bail out, but only one chance to continue.  

We packed up and hit the water around 10am, well fed and rested. It was a late start, and we would probably not make our original destination of Cayo Costa, but I was aware of some camping locations around Gasparilla Sound north of Cayo Costa.  We could stop there, and finish the trip to Cayo Costa on our rest day.  

I was surprised at how much better I felt. Sleep can do wonders. In fact, I felt better than at any time on the first day.  It was hot and sunny as we paddled down a narrow sheltered part of the ICW approaching Venice.  

It was a no-wake manatee zone, which is also good for paddlers. Ospreys tended to their young in nests on each channel marker. There was heavy boat traffic in both directions on the ICW, but they we going so slow that it was like a parade. Some of the long-cruising sailboats with stuff piled high on the decks waved at us.

The Venice canal sounds more exotic than it really is. It is a narrow rip-rap lined channel that goes behind an airport. At the end of the canal, there was just a narrow strip of sand separating the ICW from the beach.  We got out and walked to the Gulf side for a lunch break. We continued paddling south down the long, narrow Lemon Bay into the afternoon. We startled a manatee out from under the canoe in the shallow water. It made a big splash as it swam out from under us, but fortunately did not flip us over as I have heard they sometimes do.

As the sun was setting we made it to the south end of Lemon Bay, and paddled past the entrance to Cape Haze Marina, checkpoint 1 of the Everglades Challenge. Most challengers make it here on the first night; it was the second night for us. We got out our lights, put away the sunglasses, and prepared to paddle into the night. Again, the night air was refreshing, and I felt good. The ICW opened up into Placida Harbor. We could see the Boca Grande Causeway glowing in the dark, which gave us a clear target to head for across the dark open water.  

After passing through the well-lit causeway, things appeared dark and confusing. We had been paddling in the narrow ICW all day long, and now the route opened up into Gasparilla Sound. All we could see was inky blackness and a line of lights that cut across a few hundred yards away. It was not clear what the lights were, but fortunately I recalled from studying the EC route online that this was an old railway bridge. I also recalled that several challengers had camped on an island just to the south of the railroad. We were a little weirded out, but bravely pressed on through the railroad bridge, and headed out into the darkness in the direction where I recalled the island camp would be. Sure enough, a mangrove island appeared out of the darkness. We landed only to find a sign that said "camping by permit only". We debated whether to stay anyway, but I recalled another island, Hoagen Key, where I knew camping was allowed. It was only 10 PM, so we could paddle three miles across Gasparilla Sound, and be asleep in our tent before midnight, I told Lauren. She was hesitant to do the crossing in the dark, but I talked her into it.

We got a heading for Hoagen Key from the GPS chart, pointed the bow in that direction, and started paddling into the darkness. Gasparilla Sound is a few miles wide. All we could see were a few dim lights on the horizon. A half hour into the crossing a breeze picked up from the southwest and a light chop began to build. Nothing threatening, but enough to remind us we were on open water. Soon we could see a darker shape on the horizon: Hoagen Key. 

As we approached the island, I was feeling smug for having been brave and doing the crossing. I was looking forward to a good lie-down in the sleeping bag. Just then the canoe scraped up onto the bottom in two inches of water. We were still half mile from the island, and the bottom sloped so gradually it was hard to tell which way to go for deeper water. My thoughts of a nice lie-down in the tent immediately turned to a night in a soggy boat, slimy with salt and wet with dew, stranded on a shoal in the outgoing tide. We poked around a bit looking for deeper water. Phosphorescent marine life glowed in the shallow water as we sloshed about. No luck finding deeper water. The NOAA chart only showed a few spot soundings, not enough to define the shoal. Finally I turned the boat 180 degrees and paddled back the way we came for ten minutes before beginning a long arc around to the east toward the ICW channel, praying not to run aground on each stroke.  We circled around and approached the island from the east. This time, we made it to within a few hundred yards of the key before running aground. I didn't want to wade around and risk stepping on a stingray. Nothing but impenetrable mangroves were visible on the island. Again, my thoughts turned to despair. Lauren said, "why don't we just paddle around the island".  I was thinking that would never work, but sure enough, it did. On the other side of the island was the shell beach and the sign that I had seen on the internet. I kissed the sign and thanked the Florida Paddle Trail Associating for maintaining this beautiful site. It was just after midnight; so much for getting to camp before midnight.

Day 3  Estero River Challenge, April 2 2013

Hoagen Key to Cayo Costa State Park 

7 miles

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning. It was still dark and I could hear water dripping on the tent. I rolled over and went back to sleep thinking of the warnings I had heard about poisonous tropical trees that drip toxins onto people below. 

In the morning we got up to see peasoup fog. The pine trees over the tent gathered water from the foggy air and dripped down onto the tent. No toxic trees after all.  We had a relaxing breakfast and waited for the fog to clear, knowing we only had seven miles to go for Cayo Costa. Dolphins swam near the island in the fog. I was amazed they had enough water to swim is, while we were lost in the shoals the night before.  A fisherman poled his boat through the shallows. 

We set off as the fog began to break up. We scared a stingray out of the shallows as we paddled around the island. I was glad we didn't wade around in the dark the night before. We paddled hit-and-switch without the rudder, enjoying some good speed on the flat water on a short-mileage day. We followed the east shore of Boca Grande Island to Boca Grande Pass.

There is a beautiful beach on the north side of Boca Grande Pass.  We stopped in to clean up at the State Park restroom. Two manatees swam past in the clear water. 

The pass is only a mile wide, but we could not see the other side in the fog. Fishing boats troll the pass in search of tarpon in the deep water. Supposedly, giant hammerhead sharks lurk below. Tidal currents are strong, but fortunately for us it was slack tide and the Gulf was calm. We got a heading from the GPS and headed out into the fog, hoping not to get run over by a fishing boat. Visibility was at least a quarter mile, so we imagined they could see us. 

After fifteen minutes or so, Cayo Costa materialized out of the fog. We had well-developed plans to lay in a hammock and enjoy the sea breeze on our rest day.

Day 4  Estero River Challenge, April 3 2013

Cayo Costa State Park to Koreshan State Park 

42 miles

Well rested, we got up at 4:30, and had all our stuff moved to the beach and ready to launch at 6. We were excited to get an early start and hopefully arrive at camp before midnight for once.

A figure approached, walking along the beach in the dark. He introduced himself as Mike from Ann Arbor, Michigan, the town where we work. I think everyone in Florida is from Michigan or possibly Canada. He took a picture as we set off.

Paddling along Cayo Costa on the Gulf was beautiful. It was such a pleasure to see a natural coastline after so many sea walls, condos, and hotels.

As morning was turning into day, we arrived at Captiva Pass. The shortest route would be to enter Pine Island Sound here and head south. We paddled through the pass and felt the building southeast wind. Looking down Pine Island Sound, all we could see was whitecaps to the horizon and a strong headwind in our faces. We decided to stay on the Gulf side of Captiva Island for a few more hours of sheltered paddling along beautiful Gulf beaches. This would add a mile to the overall distance, and delay the inevitable slog on Pine Island Sound for a few hours.  

At Redfish Pass, we had no choice but to face the whitecaps on Pine Island Sound. We headed in and slogged south into the headwind. Shoals kept the water fairly flat.  Several dolphins frolicked about.

After a few hours we were pretty whipped. We hoped that Sanibel Island would offer some shelter, but it is composed of widely scattered mangrove islands on the north side with wide gaps between. We tied up to a dead stick on a mangrove island and took a half hour lunch break in the canoe. My pants were caked with salt from the spray in the wind and sun. 

After a short nap, we continued on. We went from one mangrove island to the next, paddling hard against the wind in the gaps. We came to a wide gap in the mangrove islands; it was about two miles across. The southeast wind would have up to a mile of fetch. We were tired, so we didn't want to add extra miles by following the shore, but we also weren't excited about battling the wind on the open water.

We decided to go for the straight line crossing, which would take us nearly an hour at the speed we were making into the wind. About halfway across, we were quite tired, but had to keep paddling hard. I had not noticed before we started, but our line took us very close to the ICW channel.  I had the sensation that we were making leeway sideways into the ICW channel. Giant motor yachts sped along in both directions at full speed in the ICW channel, creating two-foot wakes that interfered with the building two foot chop from the wind. If worse came to worse, we would turn downwind and cross the channel quickly, then make for Pine Island. However, if we could just keep going another half mile, the ICW channel would turn away from our line. We kept paddling, and finally made it across the inlet. We were fully exhausted. 

We landed on a small shell beach. Some fishermen who had watched us fight our way across the bay paused to ask if we were OK as they headed home for the day. We opened up our "emergency dinner": a packet of cooked chicken into which we poured a can of salsa. This was amazingly good at the time.

Our route would take us across San Carlos Bay along the Sanibel Island Causeway, then three miles on the open Gulf, and into Matanzas Pass behind Fort Meyers Beach. Finally, through Estero Bay and several miles up the Estero River. Given the southeast wind we had been fighting all day, I imagined the passes to the Gulf would be rough. I did not feel up to an exposed crossing in rough conditions. The forecast was for southeast wind at 20 knots tonight. On the bright side, it was slack tide, so tidal currents should be minimal in the passes. We called my sister in law, who was camped at Koreshan State Park, to discuss the possibility of her picking us up at the causeway. She was willing, but we figured we would see how it looked out there before making the call.

We made a line for the middle opening of the causeway. We actually enjoyed a bit of a tailwind for once, and on sheltered water. We tentatively approached the opening. Things didn't look so bad. We passed through. Still not too bad: two foot swells and a light breeze. We paddled along the Gulf side of the causeway in confused seas as waves reflected of the seawalls, and made it to the beach on the east end of the causeway.  Now, we were excited. Conditions were manageable on the Gulf, and we would be on sheltered water inside Matanzas Pass. We were tired, but we knew we could make it. We called Teresa and told her we would not need to be picked up.

We paddled along the beach in shallow water as the sun was setting.  Breaking waves splashed into the boat, but we were too excited to care now. We headed back into the wind and swells toward the entrance behind Fort Meyers Beach. A large sailboat was heading for the same harbor entrance. 

It was getting dark as we entered Matanzas Pass. On one side of us, was a dark mangrove island. Herons and Egrets made croaking sounds as they settled in for the night. On the other side were the high-rise hotels of Fort Meyers Beach. A party ship passed by. Spring break partiers danced to Micheal Jackson's Thriller while holding their drinks and yelling to be heard. We paddled through ships in the harbor, then through a few miles of moored sailboats. Finally we turned away from lights and boats, and into the dark mangrove islands of Estero Bay.

We paddled across open water dotted with mangrove islands in Estero Bay. It was a dark, moonless night. We followed the GPS route I had programmed earlier. As we approached dark mangrove islands, the night sounds of the birds and insects grew louder, then faded away as we passed. Fortunately, the forecast 20 kt wind had not yet materialized. 

We located the entrance to Estero River among dark mangroves, thanks to GPS. We were so excited to be near the end that we almost forgot how tired we were, but we were still tired. Mosquitoes came out as we paddled up the dark, winding river. We took a wrong turn and ended up in a mangrove dead end. We backtracked and got back on the GPS route. Gradually mangroves gave way to palms and pines. Each boat launch we saw raised our hopes. Finally we saw the sign for Koreshan State Park. It was 12:02 AM; so much for my hopes of making it to camp before midnight. 

We were happy to have finished the planned route, even though we came close to bailing out. We were disappointed to have been slower than the pace we would need to complete an Everglades Challenge. We had persistent headwinds that prevented us from using the sail to advantage. We learned a lot, and decided to train more for paddling, and to make be more efficient overall on our use of time.

Overall stats from the GPS

131 statute miles

Max speed 5.0 kt

Moving avg. 2.7 kt

Overall avg. 2.3 kt

Moving time 44 hr 15 min.

Stopped time 8 hr 9 min. (excluding camping)