When an End Comes Early

Best Plans

Someone once told me that ”You’re in It until you’re not; but, you stay in It right up until that very day.”  Well, this is that day.

 

I officially pulled out of the 2014 Catalina Classic Paddleboard Marathon.  *sigh*

 

Honestly, it had to be done.  After a few back-to-back 18-20 mile paddles, a large south swell that had me bodysurfing for 6+ hours, and the Newport Beach 2-mile Pier-2-Pier Ocean Swim, the stabbing pain in my shoulder had me wishing surgery was scheduled for later in the month.  Am I bummed?  Well, it’s a hard question to answer.

A fellow paddler who had to pull out of last year’s Classic due to back injury put it this way: the decision takes weeks, but the pressure and stress melt away quickly once the ‘announcement’ is made.  Then, over the next week, paddling becomes fun again.  He also said that watching the start (most of the paddling community helps out with the race regardless of whether or not they are doing it) was/is p-a-i-n-f-u-l.  I can say this much for sure, I will be nowhere near the finish, though my respect and support go out to all the racers.  So, there it is.

What next?  Beer, couches and naps, kick the dog around the yard?  Nah.  It’s time to focus on some shorter races (Two Harbors, Island-2-Island), a bit of running, and a lot more writing featuring the amazing people who make up the paddling community.  Surgery looms large in October, but that, as they say is a whole nother story.  Cue the blues…

 

 

R2R Race Recap (The Real One)

 

Superhero pose

Superhero pose

 

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It happened again.

One of those moments during a race when I realize, with utter clarity, why I choose prone paddling as sport, if not a lifestyle, and it happened during the 2014 Rock 2 Rock.  This post doesn’t get all fluffy about being a ‘waterman,’ but it certainly foregrounds why the men and women with whom I paddle ARE the sport.  Not the gear, or the times, or the crappy trucker’s caps—it’s the handshakes before and after races, and the paddle-battles that make the character of paddling a misery stick so great.

Last year’s race was perfect for breaking records.  This year, not so much.  The wind didn’t want to cooperate, the water was pissed off, and everyone struggled.  To put it into context, first place finisher, Max First (the joke writes itself), was 40 minutes off his time last year.  Similarly, I went 30 minutes slower than last year…and I was part of relay with the most excellent Ruth Parish.  All things the same, we should have gone much faster this year, but it was not in the cards.

Ruth put in an inspired paddle, starting, finishing, and switching out with yours truly every 30 minutes.  We passed some strong competition and duked it out with Pete Bagoye for the better part of an hour (the man is a hammer).  We crossed the finish in 5:16 and patted ourselves on the back for choosing this year to do the race as a relay.

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The real race story, however, happened out in front of us some 45 minutes and defines the nature of the sport.  Reno Caldwell (“The Redondo Rocket” – below, on the blue 14’) humbly and succinctly described his paddle-battle with two other amazing sportsmen:

R2R 2014….. Battle paddle. Mid channel. One of the most memorable paddles that I’ve ever been a part of. Pulled the guys all the way across, then they caught me and passed me in the kelp beds just off Cabrillo Point… they felt bad that they drafted me the whole way, so they stopped right before the finish line and they let me catch up. We then paddled in together… great sportsmanship and one heck of a race…!!! 

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Go turn on your TV.  Flip to ESPN, or your favorite sports channel, and I challenge you to find another sport where the elite athletes check up at the line to wait for a fellow competitor that showed the heart of a lion.  It’s just not going to happen.  Cyclists, triathletes, marathoners…hell no; in fact, it’s their goal to put you away at the finish, even if they’ve been sucking off your draft since 2009.  I repeat: it’s about the character of the people with whom I paddle that makes the sport and racing worth it—they have character and they are characters.

What more can I say?  My Father’s Day was brilliant, with DST cheering us on as we grinded out the miles and our skipper, Mark Urkov, simply nailing race strategy.  In the course of the last year, Mark has become such an invaluable part of my race program that I can’t even begin to thank him enough; but, if I ever have to paddle against him, I’m totally crossing the line in front…no quarter 😉

(Photo credits go to Joel Gitelson, Mike Jackson, and Ruth Parish — amazing images)

Loopy

CT5

 

I believe that the backside of Catalina is home to five things: sharks, terrified sea lions, big schools of bait fish (and, presumably, the yellowtail and white sea bass that eat them), fisherman, and Sleestacks (look it up, millennials).  I personally didn’t see any sharks on our 16-mile paddle from Catalina Harbor to Two Harbors, but I saw plenty of seals that had a look of utter fear written across their faces.  They didn’t even want to be in the water.  I also didn’t see any Sleestacks, but what else could live on that barren side of the island except for Chaka and cave-dwelling, aliens?  Huh?

With just two of us, on an outrigger and a paddleboard, the trip was a little hairy – big, open water, currents that flowed backward against 20-knot winds, clouds and fog, and lots and lots of bumpy wind-swells.  But, after we rounded the West End, the sun came out, as did our smiles, and we laughed and paddled on a downwind run that will surely be one to remember.  Five hours total run-time means we weren’t exactly tearing it up, but it was well worth the distraction of switching vehicles, swimming, and stopping to check out coves and awe-inspiring geology that one usually misses being in a boat.

 

The return to Two Harbors put us smack dab into the middle of some kind of wine festival, in which wine ‘tasting’ was replaced with full on gluttony and ‘dignity’ was a ship that sailed quietly away in the afternoon, leaving 200 of the drunkest folks I’ve seen in a long time.  It was a total horror show; a Russian dash-cam; a front seat to every bad reality program one can imagine.  I can’t even explain it, so I’m just going to post a few photos — maybe the captions will help.

For every girl that ran into a glass sliding window, for every mullet, Viking and buffalo-horn hat, for every rich tool who ordered drinks and walked away from the bar without paying…there are the patient people and beautiful charms of The Island.

Rock to Rock 2014 is up this next Saturday, so we get to do it all over again soon.

The Takeaway

 

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I’ll get into the details of the trip to Catalina this weekend, and the paddle from Catalina Harbor to Two Harbors, in a forthcoming post, but I wanted to consider ‘the takeaway’ from a weekend on the island.  Aside from Baja, and maybe some areas of the desert, I know of few other places marked out by such remarkable contrast than the backside of Catalina – the geography, the weather, the people (residents and tourists), flora and fauna…all of it just seem out of a movie set.

A trip to Two Harbors begins with anticipation and preparation, followed by the trip over, the mooring routine, seeing familiar faces and friends, as well as a throng of tourists carrying huge amounts of gear, a few libations, swimming, one California’s most amazing sunset vistas, and then darkness.  Through the darkness you’ll still hear the strains of music and laughter floating over from nearby boats, but the quietude of a place like Two Harbors at 1:00 a.m. is something you can actually feel descend all about your ears.

If you’re fishing, paddling, sailing, or racing you’re on the move early and constantly, so there’s little time to think about what a wonderful slice of magic you’re in or just how gracious the people who live and work on the island are, hosting all manner of visitors, entitled yachters, drunk day-trippers, backpackers, bikers, animals…believe me, I could go on.

By the time it’s time to leave, there is always a flurry of activity, scrounging for cash to settle bills, breakfast, pinball with other boaters trying to leave at the same time, and then, as if it never happened, you’re headed back to the mainland – mind already focused on work, emails, calls, and a list of Have-Tos…and you’re totally exhausted, cooked, spent.

If you’re lucky, you’ll run into a pod of dolphins that will keep you in the moment a bit longer, but more often than not, it’s hammer down until next time.  Thank goodness for next time.

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Rock 2 Rock 2014 (Preview)

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I get to pass along a huge dose of ‘feel-good’ because I finally convinced Ruth Parish to partner with me in Rock 2 Rock, 2014.  She doesn’t show it because she hauls the mail, but Ruth has been recovering a hurt wing.  Putting 21-22 miles on an already-injured shoulder will certainly let you know if it’s ready for The Catalina Classic or, alternately, it could just plain wreck you for the rest of the season.  Period.

I certainly didn’t want do that, and I suspect Ruth didn’t want to risk it, so I begged her to be my partner (literally, I think it took something like 5 calls, 10 emails, and 20 text messages).  The upside is that she agreed — Rock2Rock is simply too much of a good time to not be out there with the rest of the paddling family, racing, supporting, and clicking off the miles.  With Mark Urkov, of Urkov Charters, running the boat, I couldn’t ask for a better set-up.  I am lucky to have such friends.  More on Mark, The Rough House, and the overall race plan soon…

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Race Schedule Locked Down

Scheduled a solid 150+ miles of paddleboard races through the summer or, if you’re Aimee Spector, Ocean to Hope team captain, what she calls a long weekend.

2014 RacesNo joke, I had a beautiful 10-mile R-10 paddle on Memorial Day with a few friends, only to see Aimee round the mark on her way back from Catalina, solo.  How did she get to Catalina you ask?  Oh, she paddled there the day before.  That’s 60+ miles the hard way.  All-around nice person (check), amazing ambassador for Ocean for Hope (check), waterman animal…you bet your ass.

aimee Ocean of Hope

The Loop 2014

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There are moments during a race, during a season, when everything comes together.  You feel light, flexible, and, at a moment’s notice, you can push harder than you ever have before; your nutrition is dialed in and work and family life seem to be in perfect balance to support the time and effort you have put into pre-season paddling.

This is not that moment, so just relax. 

The Loop, 2014, was a great race, even if it was a little bit windy off of the start.  Dan Mann, the promoter of the race, wrote an excellent recap (here), which I will not try and surpass.  I’d rather focus on a few things that I learned, which I give to you from high on the mount.

1.)    Flatwater racing sucks.  It favors little, skinny animals that must hate all the good things in life: naps, wine, snow cones, and flan.  Flatwater is hot and mind-numbing.  Thank goodness my GPS gave up the ghost a few miles into the race, as I didn’t have to watch my numbers drop off for the last 8 miles.

2.)    I am an idiot for racing a stock board.  Again, stock boards favor little, skinny animals that…Ibid, above.  For a brief moment, as we turned into the harbor, I was going pretty good – NO, I was brilliant…GOLD.  Downwind push, waves…I passed everything close to me.  But, then I flew too close to the sun and hit the loathsome plain of flatwater.  Seriously, if Joe Bark would take more of my money, I’d buy a 14’ CT tomorrow and turn my stock board into a street luge.

3.)    All-prone races are the best events, hands down.  I’m not an SUP-hater (as far as you know), but it seems to me that all-arms races bring out the true hippies of the water, classic boards, shredding kids, and old lizards who care not a fig about compression pants or the latest carbon fiber paddles.  First place overall went to a guy whose board melted in the sun (and who missed the first mark by 500 meters).  Second place went to Dan Mann who had a bottle of grape juice (a glass bottle) and a Ball jar full of nuts slotted to his deck (yes, a glass jar with a screw top).  Dude was ready for a picnic.

The numbers don’t lie.  I crossed the line in 1:29, which was a full 10 minutes off my time last year.  Stock board, flatwater, crap shoulder…nah, I don’t even need to go there.  The Loop, 2014 was good racing with good people.