Unforgettable

 It’s July 25, 2009.

Nick Bryson and I stood on the sand, admiring a perfect, peeling, wide-open left-hand sand-bar barrel, both thinking the same thing: we brought the wrong equipment. Us and about 50 others. Nope, the paddleboards weren’t going to fit the curve of that wave. 

It’s surprising most of us didn’t ditch the race for the waves, but we lined up for the annual Pier-to-Pier picture anyway, stroked out, and raced.

The big factors in this race were:

#1: a solid South swell,

#2: a massive kelp bloom, and

#3: zero tide.

The combination all but ruled out the inside line. Surfers were sitting well into the kelp waiting for the bombs to come through. And come through they did. Only one or two paddlers went that way, Nick being one of them. And going outside the kelp made the course longer than advertised.

And there was also the sea life. The bait fish were especially abundant this summer, causing a feeding frenzy that lasted for weeks. For us, it meant there was no paddling a straight line without dodging seals, sea lions, and sea otters.

The race went well any way.  Not much wind. This race always comes with a great vibe. It’s totally informal. There’s no tee shirt, there’s no fee, there’s no prize money, there are no sponsors, and it’s heavily popular with the locals. Hell, I’d show up just to hear Dave King recite the only rule (“No head butts allowed below the water line”).

So, I went into this race without a leash, sporting only boardies and a neoprene tank top. What could go wrong?

Only two things went other than as planned. I cramped not far from the end of the race. That was nothing compared to the beach bombs that awaited us at the finish. Waves don’t break at the Capitola pier. Except today. They were feathering at the end of the pier.

I tried to time it. I failed. I had to ditch the board or get trashed while holding onto my board. I owe Tony Mueller, who picked mine up and did the same for many others. Tony collectively saved racers well over a thousand dollars. Mike McDaniel got in unscathed. The paddling gods were smiling on Mike, for sure.

So there I stood in the backwash, kelp all around, waiting for the current to switch so I could charge in. So ended my race. And this picture says it all:

All hail to the Kelp God!