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here are many stories of alligatorracer interactions during the Texas Water Safari, however the story you are about to read is widely accepted as the alligator story to end all alligator stories surrounding the Texas Water Safari. Tom Goynes began racing in the Texas Water Safari as a mere teenager in the late 1960s. More than two decades later he teamed up with Red Motley in 1983 to race in the tandem unlimited division. Red had been the recipient of his name by virtue of the uncreative habit of assigning a short nickname based upon the color of one’s hair. Additionally, Red towers above most NBA players resulting in an inability to blend in with any crowd shy of a palm tree grove. By this time in their racing careers, Tom and Red had endured years of opportunities for growth the trials the 260 mile course offers - a course known more for its hindrances to forward progress than its exceptional distance. The young men were top ceded to win. They’d done the time on the water in training and had enough experience to be no longer be content finishing. They were out to win. Throughout the months of training in the late winter and spring, talk had spread among anglers and racers along the remote sections of the course about a particular alligator that loitered around the mouth of the Guadalupe River. This area, beginning about 60 miles from the finish line in Seadrift, Texas, on Matagorda Bay, is surrounded by swamp and is some of the more desolate areas of the course. A severe lack of roads near these waters, paved or otherwise, is prime territory of the likes of gangs of marauding alligators, with tattoos, sideways ball caps, pierced body parts and trousers pulled down to reveal their boxers. The leader of this unruly mob was said to be quite voluminous and hung out at the mouth of the river, facing upstream, which gave him a front row seat at the buffet that drifted downstream into the salty bay waters. Tom and Red had done well, as they paddled into their second night, far in the lead. The finish line was a mere five miles across Guadalupe Bay. All that was required to get their name on the Argosy Trophy was to strap on their spray skirt and keep up their pace across the bay. During this era of the Safari, head lamps were very popular. Racers would forego lights
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attached to the bow of their boats in favor of the headlamps that lit up anything they turned their heads to see. An unfortunate consequence of the headlamp is that the light that emanates so close to your eyes tends to distort vision at night, causing something akin to looking at a photograph negative. It’s difficult to tell the difference between the subject and the background. Well, add this phenomenon to the 38 or so hours without sleep and you’ve got a couple of guys with severe sensory and processing issues. Plus, they smelled bad and used occasional foul language and had impure thoughts. Then, of course, you have the prehistoricsized alligator thrown in for spice. Tom and Red lit out from the wooden bridge that is the last sign of what passes for humanity until the seawall in Seadrift. They’d even joked a bit about the giant alligator of recent lore. These two had seen their share of alligators and even took a tour of a local alligator farm where they were given the wise advice to resist the urge to resemble a turtle, the prime source of sustenance for alligators. The two racers were no fools, so they wisely discarded their Fred Flintstone hardhats before coming near the swamps. Given their current standing and the strong potential for another notch in their paddles, their moods were elevated as they neared the mouth of the river. As they had practiced and performed many other times during previous Safaris, they were in the habit of attaching their snap-on spray cover while underway, to save precious minutes against their competition. The cover, once attached, formed a drum-like membrane over the entire canoe, in order to prevent swamping when large waves struck the boat while crossing the open ocean bay. It then, was cinched tight around the waists of the paddlers with strong rope or, most often, bungee cords. While it wasn’t exactly water tight, the spray cover did offer significant protection against the tall waves and gives time for the bailers to pump water out of the boat. As practiced, Red, in the bow, pulled the spray skirt over his head and cinched it tight around his waist before starting to snap it to the gunnels. The boat they paddled was pencil thin for speed and longer than your average canoe, which resulted in extreme tippiness to the
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As told to West Hansen by Red Motley a long, long time ago in a bar far, far away.
uninitiated and at least cramped quarters to even the most experienced of racers. The tightest spot in the entire boat, ironically enough, was reserved for the biggest paddler, in the bow. Many of these boats leave only room in the bow for one foot to fit, so a bowman has to go 260 miles with one foot over the other. Another all too common by product is numbness in the nether regions, south of the navel. Since this area is rarely called upon for action during a long race, then blood tends to be pooled and nerves cease