Part 5

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6

A passing rain shower woke me up at dawn.  The tarp was unfurled and pulled over me just as the rain stopped. Packing my gear best I could, I made a cup of espresso to jump start the morning. I planned on grabbing a bite to eat on the other side of Ayres Bay. Setting out in a nice breeze I rowed across the channel to follow the spoil islands to Rattlesnake Island then turn into the bay and cross to the back side of Matagorda Island. This would put me in front of the Second Chain of Islands. The wind was dead and humidity was high as I rowed in the wind shadow. Loud grunting and a ruckus behind me made me turn and I caught a glimpse of a hog bolting into the brush. The trip waiver came to mind, “You may die”.

As I rounded the channel marker at the end of Rattlesnake island the breeze hit me. It was solidly white capping, 20mph I guessed. The sweat soaked shirt quickly cooled off as I turned into the wind. That little white mark on the aerial chart was actually an oyster reef that I hit squarely. Climbing out and pulling over through the increasing waves was awkward as I tried to remain upright on the uneven oyster covered bottom. Once in boat I realized this crossing was going to be a challenge, rowing into a quartering wind with waves. A Coast Guard RIB with a small cabin on it was blasting by on the ICW until he saw me. Coming off plane, he turned toward me. I knew there was something that caught his eye; I wasn’t wearing my life jacket. It was so quiet on the channel that I hadn’t strapped it on yet. Throwing the life jacket on and grabbing my radio to show him I had a VHF, he turned back toward the ICW and continued on.

Crossing Ayres Bay the storm I had been watching caught me. Running to the shelter of the spoils islands was not an option, I wouldn’t make Army Hole when the rest of the Texas 200 boats would arrive. The noise from the wind, rain and hull pounding was deafening. It was a struggle to keep the bow turned into the wind to keep from swamping. Again the skiff reacted, as I pulled to maintain position, by floating up each wave as a bobber would on a pond. As the wind flattened the waves (this was scary I’d never seen that before), rays of sun beamed down from heaven as if to say “you’re alright and you’ll be fine”.  Reaching a sandy beach on the other side the skiff had about 3” of water sloshing around my feet. Breakfast oatmeal with more espresso was made and I sat back in the lawn chair and enjoyed the beauty of this area. The bright blue skies with the white cumulus cloud were the order for the day. The breeze had dropped to about 10mph and water was a little muddy along the sand and mud shore.

Rowing along the western side of Matagorda Island through very fish productive waters, the fish would bolt out of the grass reeds growing in the water. Rowing past a few fishermen with their backs toward me I enjoyed surprising them by yelling a good Aggie Howdy at them. I always got the “where did you come from” in one form or another. There were also, many comments questioning mental capacity in one form or another. By noon my back was beginning to spasm. Grabbing the ibuprofen after pulling onto an oyster beach I sat back to take a nap and let the medicine kick in. I woke about 30 minutes later with no pain and sat and watched the fishermen to my left. Another squall hit as I was beached. Unfurling the tarp, I attempted to cover up but the wind would have nothing of that. Wrestling with the tarp, I watched the fishermen just keep on fishing with no regard to the rain and wind. My anxiety dropped after that. Pulling out I headed towards the First Chain of Islands and Blind Pass.

The row from Ayres Pt to the First Chain showed me why the fishermen were in the area. There is a large nursery of reds and trout. The rowing was fantastic, wind was about 15-20, but water was in the wind shadow and flat. The rowing plan was working, stay in the flat water up against the shore. Bird life abounded in the reeds and bushes along the edge with many redwing blackbirds and cardinals. There was a constant series of inlets and small bays that I rowed along trying to cut across the larger gaps. This constant zigging and zagging ate up a lot of time. The pass through the First Chain of Islands, Blind Pass, was found with little problem. The narrowness of this pass surprised me, what 20-30’ wide. The shell island to the west has a white house with a water tower and all sorts of what looks like farm and oil rig equipment on it.

Pulling out of the pass I turned eastward toward Army hole, which I estimate is 10 miles away. The heat of the day and earlier struggles were wearing on me and it was time to find a spot for the evening. I found a bush that was tall enough to project shade and pulled in next to it. Placing the sleeping pad on the shell beach in the shade, I sat back and watched the sun ease towards the horizon. Teriyaki Chicken was on the menu for tonight. As I ate the rehydrated chicken thinking about the texture, I began wondering and if it was really chicken. The wind stayed up as a gorgeous sunset unfolded in front of me. Rays of gold and yellow radiated upward as the sun set behind the clouds and horizon.

Noises near my feet woke me up. It was just about daylight and there was a ruckus just past the bushes at my feet. There was a slight incline down to a small pond twenty feet away that hogs were splashing in. I won’t bother them and we’ll all be fine was my mantra that morning. I didn’t make breakfast, just organized the boat and headed about at about 7AM.  It was going to be an easy row of about 10 miles to Army Hole this morning. 

The toughest part of today’s row was the anticipation. I certainly didn’t want to pass Army Hole. The last fisherman I spoke to did let me know there were buildings there and I couldn’t miss it. I must have looked over my shoulder a thousand times expectantly this morning. Finally, I saw the building structures and it seemed like they not come near, no matter how much I rowed before looking back again. Pulling into a little lagoon just south of AH, I dawdled just looking around and getting my bearings before committing to a landing area. I could see a windbreak had been set up at the picnic table on the point of land facing west. Dang, I’m late, I miscalculated days I missed the group. I pulled up the boat through some mud into tall grasses just below a picnic table and shade cover.

As I was tying off, I saw two people walking towards me. It was Gordo and Karen Barcomb! What a sight for sore eyes! I’d met them a year before on the 2014 TX200. This couple knows no strangers and no matter where you are, they make you feel like you’re old friends or family. In a few minutes a cold Lone Star beer was in my hand. Show me your hands, they exclaimed! No biggie, the blisters were solid calluses by now. Gordo and Karen had sailed out with John and Rosa Goodman in John’s colorful sailboat the evening before. I indeed had been the first TX200 boat to arrive. Not really a big claim considering I left Port Isabel couple days earlier than everyone else.

to be continued...

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