So, it's Tuesday, and I am KINDA feeling recovered from another Tickfaw 200 experience, so I figured I'd take the role of a roving reporter and attempt to convey to the good readers of this site just what it's like down in the swamps of Louisiana.
One week ago, I left work and headed off to my local mountain bike trails for a couple hours of fun.
On a typical day, that ride is what I look forward to. It is my release, my escape, and my daily affirmation that my place on this planet is not limited to the manufacture of superabrasive grinding tools. I can enter the forest with a head full of worries, and come out with a clear mind...basically, its a big part in the management of my current level of sanity (which is questioned by some that know me well, lol). Last Tuesday, however, I was so overcome with the anticipation of what was to transpire over the coming days, the ride barely even registered. I'd have to think hard right now to tell you what trails I even rode...all that is pertinent to this tale is that after about 2 hours, I made it back to my Jeep in one piece, took off my helmet, and replaced it with my Mercury Racing hat. Mountain bike Mike was taking a back seat to Motor boat Mike for the next 5 days.
Reauxd Trippin'
The alarm went off at 4am, and the predawn darkness soon found myself, Mike P, and BZ loading our luggage into the bed of my new truck with an air of alacrity not normally associated with that particular hour. There was frost on the cover of the boat as I pulled it off and stowed it, but the brisk chill didn't even register, as we knew warm temperatures were in our immediate future...850 miles to the south. Our plan was to stop off in Effingham, IL, and hook up with another couple boats loaded with northerners looking to bust free of the confines of springtime weather and get the aquatic endeavors of 2015 started down in the heat and humidity of southern Louisiana. At 5:04 am, we were "wheels up," and rolling, and under three hours later, we were exiting for a truck stop in Effingham just as Bill and Troy (43 Checkmate and 37 Outerlimits) were leaving from their hotel across the street. Bill had come down from Grand Rapids, MI, and Troy over from Indianapolis, IN in order to meet us for a caravan south, and after some greetings and go-juice, the Yankees were following the compass needle pointing at "S."
We managed to pick up a couple more boats on our route (35 Nordic and 26 Checkmate), so there was a fairly impressive train of hardware rolling south...178 feet of fiberglass and approximately 6350 horsepower...which makes me smile. Two fuel stops later, and we were on the home stretch. Mike P's girlfriend Katie had flown down to New Orleans, and she beat us to the hotel by 1-1/2 hours or so. She was both excited and concerned about our eminent arrival...excited that 3 38' Cigarettes and an Eliminator had just pulled into the parking lot...concerned that there would not be room for the rest of us! I had the same worry, and just told the guys that if there wasn't enough room, we'd turn around and go home...I mean, it had only taken just over 14 hours to get there.
It turned out that Katie's concerns were well-founded, and when I did finally pull into the lot after Bill and Troy (having nearly nailed a light post with the boat on the FINAL turn into the hotel), I actually had to roll over a small curb in order to slip in and leave enough room for the Nordic. The smaller Checkmate was staying elsewhere, but even without it, there was a VERY impressive impromptu boat show in that hotel lot, as a 30 Skater and 38 Formula made for 10 offshores crammed into a very small space. A successful arrival turned into a parking lot party, so beers were consumed, new friends were made, and a trip to Chick-fil-a and subsequent meal on the swim platform of the boat rounded out the evening nicely.
NOLA
Things move slower in the south. I figure it's most probably due to the heat, but, regardless, people and time seem to just slow down. We experience it every time we go to a restaurant down there, and it always takes a while for us to acclimate to the pace. Taking that into consideration, the amount of stuff we managed to accomplish on this day at our accelerated "northern" pace was pretty damn impressive.
First on the list was to get over to the Blood River Landing and toss the boat in the water, along the way meeting up with our friends Dale and Eileen who had arrived at 3am from Ohio with their 28 Pantera in tow. Myself and Rob with the 35 Nordic pulled out at the same time and hit a local gas station to fill the boats, then made our way to Blood River, where we queued up behind a 29 Dave's Custom Boats catamaran and an 18 foot jetboat with a BEAST of a motor under the hatch. The DCB had a battery issue and needed a jump pack, which I happened to have readily available. Dale and Eileen were already there, and through our collective efforts, we got our AT, the Nordic, and the Pantera in the water and tied up without issue. After settling in, covering the boats, and saying hello to our gracious host and event organizer Casey, we were off.
Dale and Eileen had decided they would like to accompany us in our planned journey to the New Orleans' French Quarter, so, despite a considerable lack of sleep, they followed us back to our hotel, where we all piled in to Katie's rental minivan of love and headed to the city. The final personnel component of the trip (my lovely wife Michelle) was to be added in this foray as well...her plane was to land at 12:45, and I would pick her up. We navigated to Bourbon Street, then everyone jumped out of the van at a stoplight and headed to a bar, while I jumped behind the wheel for a quick trip to the airport. Michelle was waiting on the curb when I arrived, and I barely stopped the van for her to get in. We made it back to the French Quarter in about 15 minutes, parked the van, and found our crew already over one Hurricane deep at Pat O'Brien's. In a strange coincidence, Mike P ended up meeting a close childhood friend and his wife, so our group grew by two, and we moved from bar to bar, leaving empties in our wake. My personal favorite was Jean Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, which is the oldest bar in the US. The whole joint is lit by candlelight, and I could only imagine the tales that the old hearth in the middle of the bar could tell.
After a couple hours of fun, we were back in the minivan of love and headed across the causeway towards Springfield, LA, and Craig and Patti Mears' house for a crawfish boil. It turned out that the causeway isn't the best place to be at 5 pm on a weekday, and what we thought would be a short drive turned into a trafficky mess. Also, when you are on a causeway, there is no way to get around the traffic...so we were stuck. Our gracious hosts didn't mind the delay, thankfully, and invited us in to their house despite our tardiness. The crawfish were boiled (70 lbs of them!!!), and the drinks were consumed, and we were introduced to a bunch of their friends and neighbors. I'm not entirely sure when the wheels started coming off for me, but I suspect it was right about the time that I was trying to eat the crawfish...I just could not for the life of me manage to peel the tail and expose the meat with the fluid movements of the well-practiced locals, and I wasn't about to ask somebody to peel my mudbugs FOR me, so I only ate 4 or 5 of the little suckers. Besides...there was drinking to do, and I was thoroughly enjoying my second frozen alcoholic beverage of the evening. The combined effect of these last two sentences (piggybacking on the same type if situation earlier in the day...no food, MUCH drink) was to have severe consequence in the morning, but for now...I felt great. We made it back to the hotel at a reasonable hour, and, apparently, I gave Michelle an excited oral dissertation on Jean Laffite before passing out.
Hang-eaux-ver
I'm pretty sure I was still drunk when I woke up at 6 am on Friday. I DO know that I tried to throw up, but nothing happened...probably because there wasn't anything IN me. Well...later on, that proved to be false, but for the time being, I stumbled out of the hotel to McDonalds, hoping a nice greasy Egg Mcmuffin would do the trick. It did. I was unable to eat it. I delayed our departure by about 1/2 hour, as I was basically too dizzy to stand up. I haven't felt like that in YEARS...probably because I haven't drank anything with Everclear in it for years! Yes...the nice frozen drink I had consumed had a mixture of rum, vodka, and Everclear, and as delicious as it was...I don't think I will ever want another one. Katie gave me a pill to help with the nausea, and I was on the road to recovery by the time we hit the Blind River Landing. I uncovered the boat, and was able to take a couple bites of the now-cold and VERY greasy McMuffin, but decided that it would likely not do me any good. Gatorade was my friend.
Everyone else was chipper and ready to rock, so as I clambered slowly out of the depths of my pain, they prepped the boat with ice, drinks, and snacks, slapped on suntan lotion, donned our matching bad influence offshore t-shirts (courtesy of Mike P and Katie). When the motors started roaring, I snapped right to attention, and we all began to make our way out of the canal area we were docked in. It appeared that the water level had dropped a bit overnight, and a couple of the boats were actually stuck on the bottom...people were having to get out and push. Bill in the 43 Checkmate was the lucky guy who got a push from a gentleman named Flenner with a 37 Active Thunder like mine, and we followed him and Dale out of the channel. Just as we were about to get on plane, I saw Dale's hatch go up, and Eileen looked at us and turned a thumb downward. Uh oh. Dale had been SLAMMING to get the boat ready, and had only just installed a couple of HP500s in it a few days prior to towing south. In fact, his trip was delayed for two hours due to having the motors timed...then it was a 15 hour drive. Well...he had a big problem...water was spraying everywhere, and he couldn't drive the boat. Rather than leave them to try to repair it, we spun around with them, put their boat on the wall, and they jumped in with us. 7 people on the AT has happened before, so we were good to go. Craig and Patti graciously waited for us in their 32 Sunsation, as did another boatload of Illinoisians that had recently transplanted to Texas, Greg and Tracy in their 25 Baja. Craig's buddy in a 36 Baja completed our crew, and though we were a bit disappointed in having lost Bill and Troy and their group, we still had a lot of fun in front of us.
Navigating the twisting waterway out to Lake Maurepas had been an interesting challenge when we first came down to the 200 back in 2012. Being primarily Lake Michigan boaters, we are not so versed in the turning abilities of our machines...at least not at speed. We basically point and shoot at the horizon, so running 50 mph through a curvy and narrow waterway whilst navigating around other boats was a BIT intimidating...especially the first year, when BZ managed to get the stern a little loose on his 42 Fountain on a hard turn. This was my first experience driving MY boat in this scenario, and I was pretty nervous, but I quelled the anxiety, and made it through without incident. If I were to describe what it felt like...I would make it akin to driving a sports car on a curvy circuit. The consequence for failure to negotiate a turn would be putting the boat into the cypress trees that lined the shore (something that has happened before on this run) rather than just spinning into a grassy field made things a BIT more interesting, but it was still an awesome experience.
We hit The Prop Stop on the way out and got our cards punched, then headed out to Maurepas, and the channel that connects it to Lake Ponchatrain. After about a 20 minute run, we got to the town of Madisonville, where we got our cards punched at two more places, and decided to eat lunch at a restaurant called "Friends." Well...I was absolutely DYING for food, and other members of the group were equally famished...but it took that joint well over 2 HOURS to get us seated and deliver the grub. Craig and Patti and Greg and Tracy...along with BZ from our crew, smartly decided not to wait, and headed over to Sun Buns for the Powerboat Nation bikini contest. We got pretty screwed on the deal, because by the time we made it over there, we could not find a place to park in the very crowded, very narrow, and very shallow channel where it is located. Instead, we kept going, and ended up getting a nice spot at The Prop Stop for the afternoon. My crew headed up to consume some Worm Buckets, and I hung around the boat to yack with Renzo, the owner of the 40 Baja we were rafted off over, and the owners of the 38 Cigarette that had rafted off me. Renzo was from Missouri and boated on Grand Lake in Oklahoma, and the guys from the Ciggy were from Splendoria, TX and boated on Lake Conroe. One of the great appeals of the 200 is meeting people from ALL OVER and talking to them about their "normal" boating in search of more places we might want to visit. It was a gorgeous afternoon...we watched both Black Diamond MTIs and their owner Derek Wachob's accompanying 41 Cig Mistress with 5 400-hp outboards take off, then Bill Pyburn and Pure Platinum pull in. The hardware this run draws is beyond compare...50 Nortech cat, 46 Outerlimits, a bunch of Skaters, Eliminators, MTIs, Cigs, Fountains, Formulas...you name it...old and new. It is just damn impressive walking the docks at each bar.
Eventually, BZ and the other boats showed up at Prop Stop and joined in our raft...which had started with just myself and Renzo, and ended up being about 15 boats out. We hung out for a couple hours, then decided to head back to Blood River for the party at Crazy Charlie's Funhouse. Upon pulling back in the channel, we found Troy and Bill already tied to the wall, and just rafted right off them. Dale and Mike P. went to go put Dale's boat on the trailer, and I proceeded to get back on the horse in terms of rum consumption. BZ arrived later, and was clearly enjoying himself as evidenced by his communication being limited to requesting another beer by gesturing with his empty can and turning it upside down.
Rocking our Chicago shirts was a great idea, as I can't tell you how many people came up and talked to me just for that reason. I met people from all over the place...but the locals were the most incredulous. They simply could NOT understand why anyone would drive so far just to come to the Tickfaw. To those of us that have been....it is obvious! Its a party like no other.
The Funhouse itself is only open for the 200, and they ship in copious quantities of alcohol, served out of a boat-shaped bar that sits 100 feet of concrete padding away from the live band each night. Country music does not compute for this guy...but what the heck...when in Rome, right? I ran into a bunch of people I had known from assorted online boating forums, like Joey (Spanish Fly) from Indianapolis, RB Hixon and his crew from TN, Mike Goldbaugh from AL, a BUNCH more people from Texas, Christ Helt from OK, and Greg and Yvonne (Cash Bar) from Florida. There was a Cajun food-truck out in the gravel lot amongst the RVs full of poker runners, and we hit that for dinner. A few more drinks, and we all decided to call it an evening, so it was back to the minivan and the hotel, which was about a 20 minute drive. On the way out to the van, I glanced across the channel from where our boat was parked, and saw a pickup truck that had managed to slide down the grassy slope and come to a stop JUST before plunging off the seawall and onto a boat. I was glad to be ending my night in my current fashion, rather than deal with that situation!
No Sleaux-ing Down
Another beautiful morning greeted us on Saturday...of the three years we have done this event, this was the nicest, weather-wise. It was MELTING hot the first year, and a little cooler last year (jackets on the initial Friday run)...this year could NOT have been better. Low to mid 80s, couple clouds every once in a while to relieve you from the sun...just awesome. Today was to be "Skater-Day" for Craig and his boys (Patti prefers their Sunsation to their 30 Skater with outboards), so we traded BZ for Patti....we definitely got the better end of the deal. After a quick stop for some more go-juice in the AT, we were off.
First on the agenda was a run across Lake Maurepas to the Blind River Bar, which is only accessible by water (they have to bring in food and drink by boat each day). Craig was a nice guy, and let me pass him out on the lake before he turned into a dot on the horizon. Two more Skaters did the same along the way, but my 60 mph cruise stayed just in front of a third cat before we entered the winding river and made our way to the bar. It still felt early in the morning, but even before noon, the DJ was blasting tunes and there was a crowd of revelers on the docks. I backed in next to Craig...oh yeah...for the uninitiated...BACKING in and docking with your stern cleats tied off is the way they do it down there...so practice at home!...and then a gorgeous 40 Skater with 1650s pulled in and tied off me. We went in and had one of their signature frozen drinks, a Mud Bucket, and some jambalaya, and enjoyed the show for a while. I eventually went back and hung out on the boat, and got a ton of compliments on it, which was cool, considering the amazing boats that were at the run. Finally, we gathered the crew and fired the motors, bound upriver to the next card stop and some lunch.
Past Blind River Bar, the Tickfaw 200 boater is treated to yet another change in scenery, as the "river" turns into a diversion canal lined with seawalls and really nice homes. There are a few marinas and restaurants as well, which require no wake zones. We went past Canal Bank, which was the card stop, and headed to Hilltop Bar...which I pointed out was a bit of a misnomer due to the utter lack of hills in the general vicinity. There, Cajun-speed was in effect once again, and it took well over an hour to get our lunch...next year, we might have some kind of contingency plan for eating...like sub sandwiches or pb and j on the boat, rather than getting stuck at these restaurants during the primo part of the day. At any rate, my catfish sandwich was excellent.
On board the boats again, Katie got to ride in the Skater, as it was her birthday. I'm pretty sure her smile could be seen from outer space. We got our card punched at Canal Bank, and just as we were exiting the no wake zone, Bill and Troy showed up. They spun around, so the 36 Baja running with us, the Skater, my AT, AND some other guy in a 30 Baja all ended up accelerating at once...on a waterway that was only about 200 feet wide! I was pushed out to the right by Bill, and once I got on plane, had to back off in order to avoid being hosed down by his rooster tail. The smaller Baja tried to keep up for a bit, but we ended up leaving him. On the stretch from the last no wake zone to Blind River Bar, Troy chilled a bit and ran up on plane next to me. His passengers were Kevin and Kristy...our friends from Traverse City, MI, and Kev had a GoPro on us. I'm sure that's going to be a cool vid, as we rolled up together and ran it up to around 70 before I backed out and slipped in behind him. It ended up being pretty fortunate that I did so, as about 1/4 mile before BRB, I was running about 50 and passing a cruiser on the left, when a kid on a SeaDoo suddenly came out from one of the houses on the left. I cut the throttles back and steered right...hoping I had enough room to get by the cruiser...and very fortunately, split them without incident. I was literally SHAKING, I was so freaked out. If that kid had moved his finger another 1/2 inch and been going a TINY bit faster, he'd have driven right into my path. I'm writing this just as an informative piece for anyone else who might venture down for the run...keep this possibility in mind! I feel lucky, someone else might not be so fortunate.
My nerves had calmed somewhat by the time we hit the open waters of Maurepas, and we shot straight across to Sun Buns, where we'd been unable to go on Friday due to the crowds. There were very few boats there, so we slipped in and had a few cocktails whilst chatting with our local pals. When we decided to pull up and leave...I became suddenly sad. This was to be the last run. It all happened so fast...I wanted to stay! But, alas, boats aren't cheap, and gas isn't free, so this was to be first leg of our return to reality. We passed by the mob scene at the Prop Stop (wet t-shirt/hula-hoop contest earlier in the day had BROKEN their back deck due to the crowd!), and came into our channel at Blind River Landing and tied off for the final time just before the 7pm cutoff time for turning in the cards. I broke out the rum, and then Mike P and I headed over to stand in line for the poker hand drawing (the line was RIDICULOUSLY long...probably about an hour). I ran dry, and went back to get more rum, as the girls set up the grill we had bought and got ready to cook burgers. The patties weren't thawed yet, but I had a pair of warm 525s that took care of that problem! We had an awesome tailgate party as the sun went down, blasting 80s music out of our rental minivan of love and eating burgers, whilst trying hard not to be carried off by the copious amount of mosquitoes that descended upon us.
The Saturday night party at the Fun House has been a bit of a low key deal for us, as the daunting reality of a 13+ hour drive in the morning tends to harsh my buzz in a big way. We all had fun, though, and met a bunch more people, including yet another Texas crew that helped us celebrate Katie's birthday with a song and sharing the cake that Dale and Eileen had bought. I finally caught up with Brad from Powerboat Nation, and had him get our picture for the site, per Michelle's insistence! By the time 11 pm rolled around and the winners of the poker hand were announced, we were ready to call it good. So, we headed back to the trusty minivan, and headed back to the hotel to dream of the times we had just experienced.
Reaux-ling home...
Alas...all good times must come to an end. Katie, Mike P, BZ and myself left the hotel, the minivan, and Michelle (the Poker Run Princess, as we called her, would be returning the rental van and flying home) just after 7 am. The mission was a simple one...get home safely...but was complicated by the fact that the boat was still in the water and the trailer wasn't hooked up. I found myself instantly jealous of the guys with boats sitting on trailers in the hotel parking lot, but we would be there soon! Dale and Eileen already had their boat on the trailer, and we saw them leaving just as we were pulling in to Blood River...on their way to a 15 hour journey back to Ohio. Troy and Bill's boats were out of the water and sitting on trailer at Blood River, but they and their trucks were still back at the hotel eating breakfast. We were the ones at the back of the pack.
There is only one launch ramp at Blood River, and, ostensibly, it is open when everyone and their brother needs to pull out on Sunday morning. We had no trouble at all last year...but this year, an MTI was sitting parked in ramp from the night before. Crap. We rallied, though, as there was another, public, ramp only about 1/2 mile up the road. The trailer was hooked up, and Mike P and BZ drove the rig over while Katie and I headed over to the boat, uncovered it, fired up, and made it to the ramp just as the other two were ready to back down. Perfect timing. The boat went on perfectly, we loaded all of our luggage into the cabin (it was supposed to rain back home), did a cursory wipe down, and were on the road.
Three fuel stops later, with BZ behind the wheel, we pulled in to my driveway, our mission accomplished. Roughly 1700 miles of driving for three awesome days of Louisiana fun. Was it worth it? Geaux there yourself and find out!
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