I had some wee company on my Saturday bike ride this week. My daughter, Patsy, 2, was a little more relaxed that I was as we pedaled our Atlanta neighborhood route. I was sweating while she was sleeping.

At one point I glanced back to see why she was so quiet. I saw her snoozing. Then it hit me — the key to our sleep strategy in next week’s adventure race in Costa Rica.

We can just bring three bikes and a trailer along on the night rides. Then take turns sleeping in the trailer while somebody pulls it. That way we can keep moving! Of course, Peter and Paul H. are probably too big, so it looks like Jenn and I will be the only ones sleeping this race. I think we can fit.

Now, how to pack that trailer on the plane …?

- Paul C.

Spring is here, and it couldn’t have come too soon.

According to The Weather Channel, Atlanta had the 8th worst winter in the country, compared to what’s expected.

Temps finally hit the mid 70s this weekend, which meant it was time to grab the kayak and hit the water, AND leave the pogies in the gear closet.

We just hope the warm weather follows us to West Virginia next week, where Team Checkpoint Zero will race in the 50-hour E-fix. Snowshoes were on the gear list, but they’ve been taken off.

Though that’s one less thing we’re going to have to carry, truth is I was kinda looking forward to strapping on the things. Thanks Clay (editor in chief of Adventure World Magazine) for loaning me a pair.

Apparently, recent rain has caused the deep snow to melt. Problem is, the snow melt and rain has lifted water levels WAAAY above normal.

From the recent racer update: “The snow melt and trenchant rain have devastated the area with flood waters. Trails, roads, and bridges that were part of the course are no longer there. For the teams that have raced the E-fix the last few years, the Bluestone lake that you paddled is now under nearly 50 feet of water.”

WOW.

Maybe we should bring swimmies instead.

- Paul C.

With NGAR done and our limbs thawed — except for Peter, who froze at the Mandatory Gear Adventure Race in South

Carolina just two weeks prior– we were ready for a warm but wet race course that certainly awaited us at the Swamp Stomp in Homosassa, Florida. I’d raced in every edition of the Swamp Stomp, so I was really looking forward to seeing what race directors Kip and Jessica Koelsch and Michael Moule had put together.

What Michele, Allen, Peter and I got was wet as expected. But with temps dipping to 30 degrees, it wasn’t exactly warm.

The 30-hour race would start with a prologue having two options. Teams could choose a short paddle that would skip some of the bonus points but give them plenty of time to rest and refuel before the race start. Or, we could opt for a longer, 15-mile paddle that the fastest teams might finish in three hours, just in time for the start of the race. Race directors told us the winning teams likely would get all the mandatory and bonus points on the race course. Plus, the first 3 teams that finish the long paddle in less than 3 hours would earn $200. While that would be tough to do paddling in recreational canoes often in shallow water while navigating through a maze of coastal waterways, we decided our only choice was to do the longer paddle. Peter did a great job pointing us in the right direction. We got off course only a few times as we led a pack of boats through the islands and skinny canals, and finished in just under 3 hours. Two soloists in sea kayaks just beat us in, along with a team of two. That put us out of the money, but we learned later that we would get the $200 after two of the teams couldn’t finish the race.

Frigid from the cold and windy (always a headwind) morning paddle, we pulled off our wet paddling clothes in the transition area and mounted our bikes for a short, 15-mile ride during which we’d pick up a few check points. We pedaled hard in a pace line through several neighborhoods and along a power-line cut on our way to the first foot orienteering section. Somehow, we managed to avoid the “sugar sand” that can bog down your wheels and make pedaling in flat Florida as difficult as climbing our familiar North Georgia mountains. Arriving at the next TA, we learned we were in second place overall behind team Tecnu Extreme/StaphAseptic from California. With fresh legs, and after receiving a sly “I hope you like this” from the volunteer who’d designed the orienteering section, we set off running.

This first trek section would be the longest trek section of the race — roughly 13 miles — and would cover some extremely cool terrain. We would have to find points in caves, deep pits, sticker thickets (I have the wounds to prove it!) wetlands and in terrain that had been heavily mined. Allen had to descend a rope to retrieve one point in a pit at least 50-feet deep. Later, I punched a point hung in one of several caves that tunneled through a well-camped area, while enduring a few odd looks from some teenage hikers who understandably found our appearance strange.

Now, everybody knows there aren’t many hills in Florida. But there are a few, and topo lines on the map can help a little — except in areas where miners have done their work. We were knocking off the CPs pretty quickly, running nearly everything, until we had to find a CP placed just off the top of a “hill” in an area scarred by deep mine craters. But which “hill?” Nearly 50-minutes later, we found the point, but saw team Green Paw Adventure Sports pass us as we searched the wrong “hill top.” Picking up the pace we finished off the section in a long 6 hours. Jumping on our bikes, we prepared for the frigid evening ahead of us in the most remote section of the race. Our time-consuming error on CP 8 had cost us another place. We were now in third.

The next bike section would be vintage Swamp Stomp. The routes alternated between old swamp roadbeds, interrupted by surprise cypress knees or fallen trees that would suddenly knock you off your bike, and flooded “trails” that forced you to push and carry your bikes through thigh-high swamp water. Thankfully, we were the only active critters creeping around in the swamp that night. The cold was keeping all the gators and snakes quiet. Having done several swamp races, we knew what to expect. The water was very cold. But we had no choice but to plunge right in. Well, Michele was the only one who truly “plunged” in. But that wasn’t exactly by choice. Faint trails marked on the map were barely more than hunter’s paths marked with reflective dots. But with Peter leading as he read the maps, we found our way very well. We had a few flat tires along the way, and Michele had to make do without a headlamp that suddenly stopped working. Otherwise, we kept moving to stay warm and pulled into the next TA — and a welcome fire — in second place still behind Green Paw.

Fighting the urge to join other teams warming themselves by the fire, we pulled on our frozen shoes and set off on a trek that would take us back into the swamp. Where the first trek was long and comparatively dry, this trek had the potential to get really messy. Yeah! We couldn’t do nearly as much running as before. By now, the fastest teams were realizing nobody would clear the course. So Peter figured out our best strategy to maximize the time we had. We would skip the point that would take us into the deepest part of the swamp. I was disappointed because I actually get a kick out of that kinda thing. But it was the right thing to do. By skipping that point, we’d be able to run mostly sandy roads and collect points in easier places. With a few of us — well, me — fighting off sleepiness, we jogged nearly the whole section and pulled back into the TA still behind Green Paw.

Awaiting us at the TA were our now-frozen bike shoes and helmets. What?!? This is Florida. For us there would be no escape from the cold. Peter had ANOTHER flat, and had to borrow a pump from another team before we could get his bike back together and leave the TA. Just 20 minutes into the ride, Peter’s hub froze. More bike trouble. Ugh. But then, in a moment of ingenious inspiration a la Bear Grylls, I realized I had the chance to do something truly heroic, so I did what I had to do — I peed on his cassette. Problem solved, and we were off. Now, I can say my feet have never been colder than during the end of that ride. We were tearing along paved and hard-pack road. The wind cut through my shoes, and tore at my toes. I couldn’t wait to get off the bike and back in the boat.

We were just ahead of Green Paw into the last TA, but they’d punched a few more points than we had during the previous trekking section. They likely had the win locked up. But, we jumped into the boats as the sun was coming up and headed out onto the Chassahowitzka River. I’d had my sleepy moment earlier in the morning. Now I watched my teammates shake their heads trying to fight off the sleepiness. Peter, certainly in a moment of extreme distress, asked me to break out in song. My renditions of a favorite John Denver song quickly scared away the sleep monsters and our pace quickened again as we paddled across open water and up the many spring-fed coves along that area of the coast. I loved this section. The weaving up, back down, and through the natural streams that spread like many fingers from the open water reminded me of an amusement park ride — but really much more fun. The first checkpoint was placed in a spring. The soothing warmth hugged my body as I jumped out of the boat to punch the passport. I almost didn’t want to leave. But, we hurried along and gathered the mandatory points and a few bonus points on foot — and headed for the last CP. That would require someone from the team to dive 10+ feet down into a spring and collect a poker chip. Now, I’d agreed with Allen that I would do it. But, being known — actually quite famous among family members – for wimping out when it comes to swimming in cold water, I begged him to do it. Of course he agreed being the good teammate that he is, and retrieved the point to cheers from the rest of us. With our second-place finish determined, we paddled the last 200 meters to the finish line with about 20 minutes to spare before the 30-hour cutoff.

Good job Kip, Jess and Michael. I hope you put on the race again next year. The season is much better for it. And congratulations Green Paw.

- Paul C.