Before it became one of the most grueling endurance races in the country, the Texas Water Safari began as a bold, slightly wild idea. In 1962, Frank Brown and Bill “Big Willie” George set out to drift from San Marcos to Corpus Christi in a motorless V-bottom boat—an adventure that took them roughly thirty days to complete. What might have remained a one-off feat instead sparked something bigger: the belief that others should test themselves against the same winding rivers, unpredictable currents, and sheer distance. By the following year, that idea took shape as the first official Texas Water Safari.

Today, the race has evolved into a 260-mile, nonstop marathon through rivers and coastal waters, widely regarded as one of the toughest canoe races in the world. While a handful of elite competitors aim for the podium, many entrants are driven by something less tangible but equally powerful—the chance to finish. Earning the coveted finisher’s patch means joining a small, respected fraternity of paddlers who have endured the heat, fatigue, and relentless pace required to reach the end.

What sets the Texas Water Safari apart is not just the distance, but the discipline it demands. Racers must be entirely self-sufficient from the start, carrying all necessary gear, food, and repair supplies with them. Outside assistance is strictly limited—only water, ice, and shouted encouragement from a designated team captain tracking their progress along the route. Teams push forward day and night, often with little sleep, navigating both physical exhaustion and mental strain in a race against the clock to meet checkpoint deadlines and finish within 100 hours.

That same spirit of endurance and curiosity is what draws modern racers to the starting line—people like Shannon Issendorf, an experienced paddler with a long-held ambition to pursue a mixed men-and-women team.  After convincing her husband of this dream’s viability,  they recruited a mixed team that included her husband and close friends. Once the idea took hold, hesitation gave way to commitment, and the group plunged into months of focused, demanding training.

By last June, Issendorf and her teammates—Chris Issendorf, Dodd Yeager, Kyle and Kaitlin Mynar, and William Russell—arrived at the start line not just prepared, but equipped with a finely tuned racing machine. Their canoe, stretching 42 feet and barely wider than their hips, was engineered for speed and efficiency, paired with specialized paddles designed to maximize every stroke. It was a setup built for performance—but the real test, as always in the Safari, would be endurance.

What followed was more than a strong finish; it was a breakthrough moment. The team didn’t just win—they claimed victory by more than a full hour. In doing so, the women on the team became the first female Texan paddlers to win the race, and Issendorf herself the first mother to stand atop the podium. This was a result that reflected not only preparation and teamwork, but a shifting narrative in a race long defined by sheer grit.

I sat down with Shannon to talk about the race, the physical and mental challenges along the way, and what it takes to push through 260 miles of relentless conditions. She also shared a small but meaningful piece of her preparation: a protein-packed banana bread recipe that helped sustain her through training and beyond.

1.     Tell me about how you formed the winning team that resulted in the first time a Texas woman won the race?

For years, I’ve wanted to form a mixed team of men and women, and I’ve discussed this with my husband. We knew our competition was an all-male team.  We trained hard every day, particularly focusing on learning to portage faster. – a bit challenging for women.  My husband was not worried about us as far as longevity.  It was a hard and exhausting training, but we needed every ounce of it.

2.     Tell me about your boat

My husband and friend built a 42’ boat specifically for the race, using innovative new technology – it was lighter, faster, had sliding seats, and it had a water bailer.  It was slightly wider than hip width.

3.     Can you give us a snapshot of what the first part of the race looked like:

The first 20 miles or so involve a lot of portaging – over obstacles like dams and trees. We decided to use canoe paddles instead of kayak paddles at the beginning of the race, and because of the boat’s size, we were able to maneuver it better.

Then we got to Gonzales, and a storm had dumped a lot of floodwater.  We turned on Metallica and flew through those waters – now using kayak paddles and hitting about 12 mph.

4.     How were you doing in relation to your competition at this point?

We really didn’t know because we couldn’t see anyone.  We got to Hocheim in the middle of the night and realized we had put about an hour ahead of the competition.  We had been working at our pace, which was our plan the whole time – we needed to work within our abilities.

5.     What was the most tenuous part of the trip?

We are pulling up to the swamps around Dupont in Victoria. When we pulled up to it, the water looked weird – we could see it was peeling off into the trees.  We actually asked the race point officials if the race had been called off due to the flood waters.  The swamps can be tricky because you can go into the swamps ahead, but get lost and move down several slots. Swamps are a major obstacle.

What we didn’t know is that the San Antonio River, as well as the Guadalupe River, were flooding, and it was hitting at the same time, which is what caused the water to peel into the trees.  At this point, my teammate Kaitlyn, who has been paddling longer than I have, says, “We need to put on life jackets”.  We typically never paddle with life jackets – it has to be bad for us to do so.  We look around and realize that we are actually in the treetops. When the water rises, all the critters do as well.   For instance, fire ants create these balls.  You’ll have an entire sleeve of fire ants on you.  The water was rushing so much that we literally had to back paddle because the obstacles were coming at us so fast.

So we are trying to find a path through the treetops to get to the other side.  It took all our effort and concentration to keep from wrapping the canoe around a tree, because if we did, everyone would be dumped, and there would be no way to get back to the boat to call for help.

So, we make it through there, and we get to what we call the confluence – you can turn right, you will go into Alligator Lake, if you turn left, you will go into the slough and back into the river.  We are exhausted at this point and done with rushing water, so we go into the slough.

So the night before, I had pulled a track on a small GPS watch – just in case…  I pull it out and tell the rest of our team where to go – it got us through the trees, and then we find the swamps.  So when we did get back in the river, we literally cheered!

We keep paddling, we get to the Bay, and the wind is blowing into the river, creating waves that crash onto the boat.  We had never seen anything like this before.  We finally flipped from these waves, and we are all out in the water.  The guys literally pushed the boat to shore, and we are swimming against the floodwaters to reach land.

We get to shore, and we dump the boat’s water.  We all six load back up and Kyle grabs Chris and says, “Hey dude, I‘m still having fun!”

So we set out to paddle across the bay and get to the finish line.  It’s dark.  Our spot tracker had died, so no one knew where we were.  No one is visibly there.  So we yell out, and they all come running and saying, “You won!”

I didn’t realize at the time how impactful that was going to be on the other female paddlers who were out there.  We have a banquet at the end, and I gave a little speech that this could be you if you train hard enough, you too can do this! A couple of teenage girls came up to me and said, “I didn’t think it was possible, but now I’m going to train to win!”

And now about that healthy protein-packed banana bread!