Yes, it’s been a while since my last blog post, April 21st to be exact, and my readers have reminded me of that! It’s true when they say you are busier when you retire, but what is great about this time in my life, I set my own schedule versus the corporate world owning me. I recognize that I have a tendency to fill my schedule to a point where my husband calls it self-induced pain, but my mantra has always been “I can sleep when I die.” Do know this, what I am doing is feeding my soul and hopefully doing the same for others. Since April 21st, I’ve conquered more than 220 miles on the Florida Circumnavigational Saltwater Paddling Trail (CT). In addition to the CT, my extracurricular activities (volunteering, domestic household responsibilities, hanging out with my friends, spending quality time with hubby) also fills the schedule. Finally, realize a lot of time is spent planning my CT segments. My aviation background drives me to develop a float plan (called a flight plan in aviation). Establishing routes from point A to point B, camping spots, food menu, hotels, weather…this consumes hours of my time several weeks prior and up to the day I actually launch. So thank you for your patience…enough excuses, now onto my next blog post. My drive starts near Yankeetown, FL and travels along Florida highway 19/98, which I have dubbed this stretch the “Route 66 of Old Florida.” Each small town you drive through echoes a booming past…before the interstates were built…motels with neon lights and Food Network worth eateries like Mama’s in Perry. In Perry, you make a left turn at the light, now traveling westbound on 19/98. Initially, it’s a boring stretch (often requiring patience to pass lumbering RVs on a two-lane road), but with patience, you are on one of the best coastal drives along the (old) Florida coast. Near Panacea, it really opens up…the oyster farming industry around Alligator Point is booming! Want to learn more? Check out http://outlawoysters.com You can’t help but exhale, as you drive out of the long slash pine corridor, suddenly treated to an expansive view of the Gulf of Mexico…filling every inch of your windshield like a 72” big screen TV. As I drive, I’m retracing more than 300 miles along one of the most rustic portions Florida coast that I completed last year. When I paddled this segment, my cell phone did not work…and to this day remains my favorite CT segment. Cheryl Crow’s song “Everyday Day Is a Winding Road” plays from my iTunes list…Technology scares me sometimes. I’m about to embark on a 6-day/5-night kayak trip from the CT “official” starting point (Big Lagoon State Park) to Panama City. Imagine the planning that went into this 125-miles trip! Add to the already complex planning… I’m about to do this with someone I've never paddled with, typically taboo in the CT kayaking world. But before I tell you about this special lady kayaker, I want to tell you about some CT segments leading up to this trip that hands down prepared me for this segment. -Everglades City to Flamingo, 5 days/4 nights, 95 miles in one of the most remote areas of Florida. Accompanied by two of the coolest kayakers I’ve ever paddled with; Gus Bianchi & Liz Sparks. Liz, is one of the founding mothers (can’t call her father) of the Florida Circumnavigational Saltwater Paddling Trail. This free spirit / phenomenal woman with the biggest heart, who is a badass when it comes to challenges, but can sing a killer folk song in the middle of nowhere. Gus, CT9; If we decide to start naming CT trail segments, this fun, laid back, seasoned mentor/kayaker hands down should have several named after him! He has paddled with many CTers, like me, chipping always the miles, that he almost qualifies for paddling the CT twice! Don’t give him a day trip, he wants the longer ones. My segments with this maestro have been Key West to Key Largo (95 miles) & Everglades City to Flamingo (75 miles). Aside from the segments in the Big Bend, the Everglades was the most remote kayaking trips a CTer will do. You pack for a wilderness trip; water, food, shelter, a solid first aid kit, navigation charts, GPS, LOTS of bug spray, and a libation of choice (mine was Hard Truth Toasted Coconut Rum). Gus said it was the best weather he ever experienced in the Everglade. I’m especially proud of Liz, who rose to the challenge of daily paddling distances averaging 18-miles, including a few windy days. Many stories were told, and many were made. I would do it again in a heartbeat. -Key Largo to Flamingo: I had to connect my Everglades City to Flamingo segment (with Gus & Liz) to where my Florida Keys segment wrapped up, so this meant Key Largo to Flamingo. While this solo 40-mile, 3-day, 2-night primitive camping didn’t seem like a daunting task, especially crossing the expansive Florida Bay, it ended up being one for the books! The first day from Key Largo to Nest Key was too easy. I got there so early; I was able to take a nap…which was needed after I Yogied a few cold brews from one of the local tour/party boat guides. I can't stand Bud Light, but it was cold and beggars can't be choosy! The second day was stunning, especially as I paddled through crystal clear blue water. Today’s segment was a planned 19-mile segment, with camping at Shark Point Chickee. What is a chickee you ask? Its platform located within the Everglades National Park. Since there are no places to camp in this area, the national park built a chickee (platform) in the middle of a bay. You unload your gear onto the lower deck, then climb a ladder to the upper-level, and set up your tent, where there is also a nice port-o-let! Unfortunately, the seagulls & pelicans don’t use the port-o-let, so the chickee is usually covered in guano, i.e., bird excrement. Thanks to a nice tailwind, I arrived at Shark Point Chickee on schedule, but the same wind that helped me get there was now my nemesis. There was a ladder located on the lower platform, so I approached the chickee on the windward side…too rough, so I pushed off and circled Big Blue, my 17.5-foot kayak, to the leeward side; still no place to land. Then I notice a corral-like opening in between platforms and I aimed Big Blue there, sliding in between. Now what? Holding on to the platform, the wind and waves were rocking the kayak from the bow like a cowboy on a bull waiting to be released. How do I do this? Running the scenario through my head, once out of the kayak, it would be challenging to unload gear…then set up the tent in the wind (no tent stakes allowed) on the upper platform. But even before that, my biggest challenge, even with my excellent balancing skills, was simply getting out of my kayak. Oh yeah, now I gotta pee. I weighed my options (a) this shit show or (b) paddle another 10 miles to Flamingo. With enough time before sunset, I decided to paddle the extra 10 miles, but only after that seriously needed bio break. I pushed away from Shark Point Chickee. Paddle-paddle-paddle and don’t look back, you’re committed now…then BOOM! Something, I never saw it, something BIG, slammed the stern of my kayak. I’ve paddled around manatees, and a manatee this was not. It was a ram-like action that moved my stern, enough to veer me off-course. I paddled the additional 10 miles, making this day a 29-miler (my first ever). Along the way, it was a fish-topia, with many schools of fishing going under my kayak in the shallow waters of the Florida Bay, including several sharks following them. When I landed in Flamingo, after 10 hours of paddling, I was physically exhausted. I managed to set up camp, took a seriously needed shower, then went to bed without dinner. -Panama City to Overstreet: The panhandle is a wickedly fickle area of Florida. It takes the brunt of any spring or winter frontal weather systems, then if that’s not enough, add hurricane season in the fall. The float plan for this trip was a simple 2-day, 30-mile paddle, with one night at Piney Point primitive campsite. The planning never stops…including the night before or the morning of the launch. The forecast was improving from the previous several days…overnight thunderstorms, rain in early morning, then clearing. Winds in my favor. I’ll cut to the chase on this one: weather forecasts are not reliable. When I launched in Panama City, I could see storms in the Gulf, but my radar app showed they were not a threat. But that storm fueled others to form, and next thing I knew, I was in the midst of them all. I credit my confidence in these conditions, grit (certainly not lack of fear), whatever you want to call it (bottom line is safety!) to Gus Bianchi. Find whatever refuge you can find…sea grass, mangroves…having none of these, I hid under docks. I do listen to what Gus says, even if he doesn’t think I do. The rest of this simple 2-day segment (strong wind in my face for last 4-miles, followed by an exceptional 2nd day paddle) is not worth boring you with. Just know that it was part of strengthening me for what’s to come. -Jupiter to Pineda Causeway (10-miles north of Melbourne): My longest solo to date; 95 miles, 5 days, 4-nights. Alarm goes off at 5 am. It’s so important to eat/fuel your body before and during these long segments…you’re basically an athlete. On this morning, I couldn’t eat and had the dry-heaves. Nerves. I sent a text to Steve Cournoyer (CT29)….His response “Take it a day at a time…you’ve done this before.” Steve always has a way of grounding me. If you’ve been following my blog, you know a big challenge for me has been paddling solo (not from a safety/capability perspective). The good thing about paddling alone is you don’t have to worry about anyone…except yourself, but when you experience stunning moments, like waking up to osprey calls and hearing the breath of a lone manatee as the sunrises in your private cove, I just wish I had that special someone with me to share it with. It was on this trip, I managed to find a way to enjoy the solo experience. I met amazing people along the way, so when I do this trip again, my focus will be on documenting the people I meet along the way. The second sentence was to check to see if you’re still paying attention. Following in the gentle rudder wake of those who helped me, I will do portions of this again…paying it forward. As the Pineda Causeway (my takeout point) got closer, I thanked my guardian angels, deeply exhaled, and allowed the crocodile tears (there were no crocs on this trip!) to stream down my face. I did it! 95-miles, solo, one day at a time, just like Steve said I could do. When I landed, beach goers had no idea what I had just accomplished, and I left it like that. It’s the way I am…I don’t like a lot of fanfare. Final note, and the most important note about my Jupiter to Pineda Causeway segment: I met the two most amazing women; the owners of Paddle the Pointe, Alex Cotleur and Lori Griffith. When I called this outfitter to simply asked if I could launch at their location in Jupiter…and when I showed up, this women-owned business made me feel like a rock star! Alex and Lori donate a portion of their business proceeds towards Chasin A Dream Foundation, a local charity they started that assists children battling cancer, cystic fibrosis, heart disease and other life threatening illnesses and disabilities. Alex and Lori are the true rock stars! Did I tell you I won the lottery? No, not really…just making sure you’re still with me. This is one of the longest blogs I written to date, but we have a lot of catching up to do! Every trip shared thus far, has prepared me for what I’m about to share with you next… Back to that scenic drive along Florida highway 19/98… You can’t help but smile from the inside out as the highway curves away from the towering slash pines trees to an expansive view of the Gulf of Mexico. The sun shimmers on the water like liquid mercury as pelicans fly in formation, exhibiting their natural aviation ground effect skills. I’m about to embark on a 125-mile kayak trip from Big Lagoon State Park (Pensacola) to Panama City, my longest trip to date… with someone I've never paddled with, yet as I got closer to our rendezvous point, I didn’t have one single doubt in my mind I was doing the right thing. I briefly met Camille (CT28) at the 2019 CT Reunion - yup, that reunion that changed my life...I was a fly on the wall as she received her official CT finish shirt...I was inspired by her energy. Kayaking, especially in the CT-world, there is a supportive network of friends. When we get together, it closely resembles a 1970’s family sitcom. When Camille offered to kayak with me, I knew we were a good match…two kayakers with solid skills, energetic, fun, honest, and last but not least, two good souls. During our trip, Camille’s father, Larry Chapman, became an honorary CT trail angel. While driving us to our launch point (Big Lagoon State Park/the ‘official’ CT starting point), then later coming to our rescue when we needed to reposition. I asked Larry tell me the story behind Camille’s name; she was born the same year Hurricane Camille, the second most intense storm to hit the U.S. We were greeted at the launch point by FPTA President Joe Webb and his lovely wife Karen. I don’t care for pageantry, but in hindsight, I’m glad we did it. Since it was the official CT starting point, it was emotional for me. I started in my backyard, near Cedar Key…fast forward 1300 miles, and now I’m at the official start point….can you blame me for being emotional? After signing the official CT log book, Camille & I launched from Big Lagoon into a steady 15 knot headwind. If that wasn’t enough, our heads were on a constant swivel because of weekend boat traffic and the waves they produced made paddling the most challenging we had ever been in. But wait! There’s more! These challenging conditions erased my goal of making it through Pensacola Pass at slack tide, so by the time we got there, the outgoing tide combined with the southeast wind made crossing the pass equivalent to vigorously shaking a ship in the bottle. We definitely earned our ‘tested’ badge and were only 7 miles into our planned 23-mile day. At the end of the day, we only managed to complete 13.5. Here's a few photos from our first night. The second day, Camille & I faced the same, if not worse wind conditions. My plan/vision that the narrow strip of land separating the Gulf of Mexico from the mainland would provide some protection from the southerly wind, was a complete failure. We only managed 5.5 miles to Little Sabine, before deciding to stop and brainstorm how we were going to tackle the remaining 106 miles. That afternoon, the conditions improved enough to knock out another 15 miles, passing our originally planned first days camping spot. After spending the night at a discrete camping location, we awoke and were treated with a visit by a Great Blue Heron. Typically skittish, the Heron with its typical long-legged strut fashion, walked by, within 2-feet of Camille. That morning, we launched at 7am and paddled another 5 miles into uncharacteristically strong wind to Navarre. This is where trail angel Larry (Camille’s Dad) came to our rescue and helped us reposition to Panama City (objective: wind more in our favor). As if the trip wasn’t challenging enough, I had to get my truck out of an impound lot! Soon after, all the previous challenges were replaced with favorable winds and bliss, causing Camille & I to make the Geiko pig “Weeeeee’ noise as we left Panama City. As we paddled toward the barely visible opening of the intracoastal waterway channel (known as the ditch) that connects the West Bay with the Choctawhatchee Bay, the wind (now at our 8 to 9 o’clock) produced significant fetch and 4-foot swells. Camping spot in sight, we finally wrapped up our 12-hour plus nonstop day, but only after slaying the massive West Bay. We set up camp, worked on Camille's rudder system, then ate a delicious dinner; Mexican & Indian fare...oh, and rum! The next day, the 19-mile trip down 'the ditch' was absolute nirvana. Towering sandy cliffs made by the original canal dredging protected us from the wind. We even stopped to play at what we dubbed the “mini–Grand Canyon” Landing at the Choctawhatchee Rowing & Paddling Club, that day was made only better when Steve Cournoyer (CT29) and Camille’s previous CT paddling partner arrived. It was cool to be part of a mini CT Reunion, since Steve & Camille hadn't seen each other in awhile. As we set up our tents, curious locals stopped by, amazed about our travel plans. We were even gifted a growler from a neighbor who owned a local brewery. That night, we ate dinner a local restaurant and enjoyed hot cocoa and coconut rum before retiring to our tents. The next morning, we loaded and launched our kayaks as dawn softly illuminated the black needle rush within the protected Tucker Bayou. This day began at Point Washington and we worked our way west, to Destin. It didn’t take long to reach the opening of the expansive Choctawhatchee Bay; more than 30 X 6 miles at its widest points, it is the largest body of water a kayaker must paddle in the Florida Panhandle. Wind. Bridges. Wind AND bridges...have a way of producing their own paddling conditions. I’ve termed it ‘bouncy bridges’ because most times the water is like the agitator cycle in your washing machine. So after a challenging 3-mile crossing, we had bouncy bridge conditions, then once you pass underneath, its calm. You can finally rest your muscles and catch your breath. Welcome to our rodeo Steve! The bridge only provided a brief respite. As we made our way across the next section, the wind and depth of the water increased, and so did the swells...lifting my kayak as if trying to balance it on the crest of each wave. As it did this, the wind would cause weather cocking, placing the kayak at an angle as I landed at the bottom of the swell. Wave crest, weather cock, repeat…for 5-miles. The next bay was approximately 3.5 miles wide, call it whatever you want (the definition of insanity?), we decided to go straight across to the next point. Even though the distance was shorter, the deeper water combined with a significantly increased (and now a direct crosswind)… this crossing turned out to be an absolute rodeo. We took another well-deserved break using the lee side of the point to work on Camille's rudder system and take bio-breaks…and to talk about the next 6-miles. After the last crossing, hug the shore, right? Not quite. Aiming for a house on the distant shore, we paddled nonstop for more than an hour before reaching the house with a white roof…During the crossing, all I could do was focus on that distant point while keeping my peripheral vision on the approaching now 4-5’ breaking waves. Paddle, low brace, paddle-paddle-paddle, low brace. In between, I had my head on a swivel making sure my kayak partners were safe. We later learned wind gusts in the area were 35 mph. Are you tired yet? Did you know kayakers live for eating food? After checking in at the Destin Army Rec/Lodging facility, and Camille & I taking our 1st shower in 4 days, we took an Uber to Boshamps Seafood and Oyster House. With a 2-hour wait, we made our way to the crowded bar. And just like the night prior, sharing our story with locals at the Choctawhatchee Rowing & Paddling Club, we were soon sharing our story…and people were buying us drinks. Luckily, we were able to order/eat at the bar, which was hands down some of the best food any of us have ever had; As I write this, I salivate at the thought of it. Uber took all three of us safely back to lodging…for free…because we were the coolest customers he ever had! The next day, we launched at 7:00am for the final 22-miles to Navarre. The early launch provided us with a ‘normal’ morning (light wind) paddle towards Fort Walton Beach, where the wide bay was replaced by a section of the intracoastal waterway called “The Narrows.” As it had done all week, the wind increased to her relentless level, as we made our way into our final stretch; the Santa Rosa Sound. The last 6 miles, we had wind pretty much at our back, but if we had to cross the Sound under the same conditions, we would be faced with breaking waves on our right (starboard) side. Statistically, the most challenging segment of any kayak trip are the final miles. I’m more of a spiritual versus religious soul, so as we got closer to our crossing point, and just as I have recited each challenging day of this trip, every solo, or every trip with paddle partners by my side, I prayed to my deceased relatives on my fathers side, for safety - and this time, favorable winds for our crossing…. then suddenly, the wind shifted, and even though it was still a bit of a ride, with wind now at our back, it carried us to our final takeout point safely. That evening, there was a sense of celebration in the air. We ate and drank...and ate and drank more... ...and I taught Camille how to and she successfully short-sheeted Steve's bed. We all fell asleep laughing, or at least Camille & I did! Post Script: The fun, yet hard-earned miles, leading up to this 125-mile trip in the Florida Panhandle trip was the equivalent to seasoning a cast iron skillet. -Oil -Heat -Repeat 3 to 4 times Once ‘seasoned’ each time you cook in it, you’re adding another layer of seasoning. Three seasoned kayakers all agreed that our segments in the panhandle was one of the most complex and challenging conditions ever faced, yet we did it! Personally, if this would had been my first rodeo, I probably would not have pursued the remaining 1,390 circumnavigation around the state. But after nearly two years of ‘seasoning’, combined with paddling with two of the best, even if this trip was like a rodeo, it was one of the best and one I will never forget. Also, if this trip was solo, it would have been a completely different blog (I have always had, but especially now, have full respect for through paddlers). A heart-felt thank you to my CT family: — Gus (CT9) & Liz, for unforgettable journeys within some of the most challenging, yet beautiful sections of the CT. — Alex & Lori, owners of Paddle the Pointe, for your passion for water sports, but even more, your passion for helping local children battling life threatening illnesses and disabilities through Chasin a Dream Foundation. — Steve Cournoyer (CT29) for joining the Dorsey and Camille rodeo. You definitely earned your cowboy hat! — Larry (Camille’s Dad) for your southern hospitality, outstanding trail angel work (including loaning me $100 bucks to get me truck out of the impound lot) and for making me laugh when times were tough. You earned your trail angel shirt! —Last, but not least, Camille (CT28). Your energy & laughter took the edge off the challenging times and made the mischievous moments snort-laugh worthy! You are truly a good soul and I will kayak again with you in a heartbeat! Back to that scenic drive along Florida highway 19/98… This time, I’m driving back home on that scenic coastal Florida highway 19/98, and it is just as breathtaking as it was on the way to Pensacola 7-days ago. Except now, I have another layer of seasoning. As I leave Apalachicola, another Cheryl Crow song plays…If It Makes You Happy. It has been a year since I blogged, I Fell Hard for Salt. I’ve laid awake many nights, tossing like a kayak rough waters trying to understand the source of emotional swells. Being alone during memorable moments? Understandable. Yet, in the depth and darkness of the night, when my brain is on repeat, repeat, repeat, like a needle stuck on an LP…I’ve learned to get out of my head and listen my heart… Salt; When it gives, it leaves one longing for more. Song: Lisa Hannigan- Undertow. Salt; its essence gains strength as its tentacles manipulate the kayaker; lifting it…to the crest of the wave where you’re rudderless…with its tantalizing touch like a gentle breeze, then like the equatorial doldrums, suddenly stops, leaving the kayaker stuck on windless waters. Salt; It entices me to return, then tosses my heart in its tempestuous surf, each time reveling in taking the trouble from my eyes, only to toss me back onto the beach of life, where I am supposed to be ‘normal.’ I can't eat. I can't sleep. Everything I see and hear reminds me of salt. My heart aches. Another song plays: Stevie Nicks with Tom Petty - Stop Draggin' My Heart Around.
Paraphrasing author Laraine Herring, for this CT kayaker, writing this blog has been an act of power and surrender, passion and discovery. And like salt…It is a tug at your soul that continues to pull you forward, even as you go kicking and screaming. As I approach the final 130-miles, this 1,515-mile journey will come to an end, and eventually, so will the swells. Salt; its taste on my lips, gifts from the sea, and music it sings, will always flow through my veins, but I need to listen to my heart... Closing song: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - Listen to Her Heart. Salt; It will continue to ebb and flow within the black needle rush of the coastal marshes, searching for and eventually, finding another kayaker to torment, just like it did me.
7 Comments
Bob
6/19/2021 02:15:28 pm
Great story! I’ll bet that Bud Light came in handy. I think it’s awesome that you meet such interesting people along your journey. Stop draggin your heart around! Bob (Mondo)
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Camille
6/19/2021 04:12:10 pm
Wow… I read this and laughed and cried… I relived the moments of worry and wind, of smiles and stories. The days, nights, and all the memories we shared will never be forgotten as they have forged a new and forever friendship. Thanks for the memories, my friend.
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6/19/2021 05:17:34 pm
Incredible resolve & perseverance! Thanks for the copy.
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Brenda
6/19/2021 09:09:59 pm
Perhaps the fact that what's-his-name, your little troll, was mooning you on your crossing of the Santa Rosa Sound added to the shift in the wind direction... just throwing it out there...
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larry lane chapman
6/20/2021 02:34:51 pm
Dorsey you can add penmanship to your many talents! Very well written. It was my pleasure to serve as a CT angel to you and Camille. You are both amazing women!
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Sue Carroll
6/20/2021 04:32:15 pm
Amazing adventure. Beautifully written. Thanks so much for sharing your story with us. ❤️
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AuthorDorsey DeMaster embraced kayaking after retiring from 38 years in aviation. She lives near Crystal River, Florida. Archives
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