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Red Green Regatta 2007
This weekend was the annual Red Green Regatta on the Chena River here in Fairbanks. The website probably gives a better overview of the contest than I could, as does their list of rules, which are (so far as I know) the ONLY rules for the contest. The "All entrants assume responsibility for any calamity caused by their entry" line is especially telling, as is the line after that one. ("Removal of vessels from the river is the responsibility of the Captain.")
You know you're in for it when you enter a contest that includes the word "calamity" in its official rules.
Last year we built a floating roof, which nearly scuttled itself several times downstream of the Pioneer Park boat launch. This year, we set out to build a "life" size Loch Ness monster. It ended up about 130 feet long and was floated entirely by Rubbermaid tote containers.
I didn't have a camera with me on the river this time, nor did Orion, due to our absolute conviction that we were going to sink. However, Orion's parents showed up for the fun, and got some nice pictures of us going down the river.
But first, the making of the monster.
Constructing the head (in our garage because it was raining outside).
The head, before it was painted, reminded me of a T-rex in a museum.
The next stage was constructing the "humps", the loops of serpent that would be visible above the water...
... and building the floats that would keep the humps (and us) above the water. (This is Friday night, in our front yard. Being Alaska, it was still bright and sunny at 9 p.m.) We started out with four Rubbermaid totes on each float segment...
... and then we tested it ...
... on a pond next to our driveway.
It turned out to be more than just a little unstable.
While the floats were technically capable of supporting two adult males, the two males in question (Orion and Gregg) were awfully close to the waterline, and every time they shifted their weight, the ends would dip into the water and the containers would start taking on water!
After only a couple minutes of paddling around the little pond, they were getting worried. (At least, I attribute that expression to worry. Perhaps terror.) They were also in imminent danger of sinking whenever they moved. Given that we would be dealing with boat wakes and other obstacles on the actual river, it seemed that adding more flotation would be prudent. So each float ended up using six Rubbermaid containers rather than four.
Yesterday (Saturday) we spent most of the day doing the actual construction -- building the rest of the humps (which necessitated a mid-afternoon run into town for more duct tape, which along with cardboard was our major structural element), constructing the floats, painting everything and adding cosmetic touches.
Despite our worst fears that we'd push off from shore and instantly sink, this did not happen. Actually, one of the worst parts of the whole thing (at least for me and Orion) was hauling the cardboard parts from our house into town! The roughly 13-mile drive to the river took 45 minutes, what with having to stop every so often to pick up cardboard pieces and stuff them back onto the trailer. And road construction, did I mention road construction? Nothing like threading a trailer loaded with unstable cardboard pieces (sticking out over the gunwales) through traffic cones while trying not to run over any flaggers...
But we made it. To the river, at any rate.
Orion's mom got some good shots of the serpent all strung out in a line. Seeing it from a distance, the one thing we really should have done is to paint the PVC spacer bars between the segments a darker color so they're not so very obvious.
The only real dramatic mishap we had was when a knot came untied and our serpent uncoupled in the middle. This didn't turn out to be too bad, because the river was shallow enough to wade at that point, so a couple of our teammates jumped out and caught the floating segments and retied them.
The more subtle problem with our design became apparent fairly soon -- we were about as streamlined and maneuverable in the water as a floating brick. Or, rather, a series of floating bricks tied together, which all floated at different speeds. The rear segments tended to float faster than the heavier front one, which caused us almost immediately to nearly wrap ourselves around another boat as the segments drifted out of alignment. Once we straightened out, we were firmly in next-to-last place (the only boat slower than ours was one which kept breaking apart and trying to sink), where we remained all the way through an interminable two-hour trip down three miles of river, during which time tempers frayed and mutiny kept breaking out amongst the crew. The rear segments were having to backpedal to keep from overtaking the front end, which meant that the current was literally moving faster than we were. Eventually crewmember Colin (who really deserves a medal for this) swam out in front of the boat with a tow line, and towed us down the river. All the way.
Moseying down the river. At this point, there's a whole lot more swimming going on than riding. Whether or not this was actually a help ... depends on your point of view, and keep in mind as I write this that I'm hardly unbiased and we were fighting about this the whole way down the river. Orion and I were of the opinion that vacating the manned segments made the problem worse, since it lightened the back parts of the serpent and caused them to float faster yet. Orion's solution to this problem was to yell "PADDLE FASTER!" at the front segment, which did not endear us to them at all. Meanwhile, the swimmers' point of view was that they were able to propel the serpent faster (and do a better job of aiming the segments) than the riders, and all of us deadweight on the floats should get off and swim. Regardless of who was right about that, I'm totally in awe of our teammates' ability to swim in cold water for two solid hours, even with the personal flotation devices. I mean ... wow. Dude. I am nowhere near that cool. Or, as the case may be, cold. Ha, I slay me. No, seriously, they were awesome.
Back view of the serpent. No one saw it from this angle except the spectators, since we were (through no fault of our own, for the most part) traveling at the approximate speed of an anorexic snail.
Colin towing ... and Thadd (another crewmember) pushing. You can see that the water's only waist-deep here.
Whose idea was this, anyway? The intrepid crew of the Chena River Monster, left to right: Cassandra, Gregg, Thadd, Crystal, Ruth, me, Colin and Orion.
You know you're in for it when you enter a contest that includes the word "calamity" in its official rules.
Last year we built a floating roof, which nearly scuttled itself several times downstream of the Pioneer Park boat launch. This year, we set out to build a "life" size Loch Ness monster. It ended up about 130 feet long and was floated entirely by Rubbermaid tote containers.
I didn't have a camera with me on the river this time, nor did Orion, due to our absolute conviction that we were going to sink. However, Orion's parents showed up for the fun, and got some nice pictures of us going down the river.
But first, the making of the monster.
Constructing the head (in our garage because it was raining outside).
The head, before it was painted, reminded me of a T-rex in a museum.
The next stage was constructing the "humps", the loops of serpent that would be visible above the water...
... and building the floats that would keep the humps (and us) above the water. (This is Friday night, in our front yard. Being Alaska, it was still bright and sunny at 9 p.m.) We started out with four Rubbermaid totes on each float segment...
... and then we tested it ...
... on a pond next to our driveway.
It turned out to be more than just a little unstable.
While the floats were technically capable of supporting two adult males, the two males in question (Orion and Gregg) were awfully close to the waterline, and every time they shifted their weight, the ends would dip into the water and the containers would start taking on water!
After only a couple minutes of paddling around the little pond, they were getting worried. (At least, I attribute that expression to worry. Perhaps terror.) They were also in imminent danger of sinking whenever they moved. Given that we would be dealing with boat wakes and other obstacles on the actual river, it seemed that adding more flotation would be prudent. So each float ended up using six Rubbermaid containers rather than four.
Yesterday (Saturday) we spent most of the day doing the actual construction -- building the rest of the humps (which necessitated a mid-afternoon run into town for more duct tape, which along with cardboard was our major structural element), constructing the floats, painting everything and adding cosmetic touches.
Despite our worst fears that we'd push off from shore and instantly sink, this did not happen. Actually, one of the worst parts of the whole thing (at least for me and Orion) was hauling the cardboard parts from our house into town! The roughly 13-mile drive to the river took 45 minutes, what with having to stop every so often to pick up cardboard pieces and stuff them back onto the trailer. And road construction, did I mention road construction? Nothing like threading a trailer loaded with unstable cardboard pieces (sticking out over the gunwales) through traffic cones while trying not to run over any flaggers...
But we made it. To the river, at any rate.
Orion's mom got some good shots of the serpent all strung out in a line. Seeing it from a distance, the one thing we really should have done is to paint the PVC spacer bars between the segments a darker color so they're not so very obvious.
The only real dramatic mishap we had was when a knot came untied and our serpent uncoupled in the middle. This didn't turn out to be too bad, because the river was shallow enough to wade at that point, so a couple of our teammates jumped out and caught the floating segments and retied them.
The more subtle problem with our design became apparent fairly soon -- we were about as streamlined and maneuverable in the water as a floating brick. Or, rather, a series of floating bricks tied together, which all floated at different speeds. The rear segments tended to float faster than the heavier front one, which caused us almost immediately to nearly wrap ourselves around another boat as the segments drifted out of alignment. Once we straightened out, we were firmly in next-to-last place (the only boat slower than ours was one which kept breaking apart and trying to sink), where we remained all the way through an interminable two-hour trip down three miles of river, during which time tempers frayed and mutiny kept breaking out amongst the crew. The rear segments were having to backpedal to keep from overtaking the front end, which meant that the current was literally moving faster than we were. Eventually crewmember Colin (who really deserves a medal for this) swam out in front of the boat with a tow line, and towed us down the river. All the way.
Moseying down the river. At this point, there's a whole lot more swimming going on than riding. Whether or not this was actually a help ... depends on your point of view, and keep in mind as I write this that I'm hardly unbiased and we were fighting about this the whole way down the river. Orion and I were of the opinion that vacating the manned segments made the problem worse, since it lightened the back parts of the serpent and caused them to float faster yet. Orion's solution to this problem was to yell "PADDLE FASTER!" at the front segment, which did not endear us to them at all. Meanwhile, the swimmers' point of view was that they were able to propel the serpent faster (and do a better job of aiming the segments) than the riders, and all of us deadweight on the floats should get off and swim. Regardless of who was right about that, I'm totally in awe of our teammates' ability to swim in cold water for two solid hours, even with the personal flotation devices. I mean ... wow. Dude. I am nowhere near that cool. Or, as the case may be, cold. Ha, I slay me. No, seriously, they were awesome.
Back view of the serpent. No one saw it from this angle except the spectators, since we were (through no fault of our own, for the most part) traveling at the approximate speed of an anorexic snail.
Colin towing ... and Thadd (another crewmember) pushing. You can see that the water's only waist-deep here.
Whose idea was this, anyway? The intrepid crew of the Chena River Monster, left to right: Cassandra, Gregg, Thadd, Crystal, Ruth, me, Colin and Orion.
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