Nick Bryson Readies for Battle (my board's on left)
Wellll, I took the plunge on my recently acquired 17’6” Bark and entered us in a race. It’s not a new board, but “used” isn’t the right word, either, as it has so much life in it. I’m inclined to call it an “experienced” board because it was thoughtfully designed and built, paddled by one of the best, and well cared for. I feel more than a little privileged to call myself its present paddler.
Evidently, the board has friends. As it lay on the grass before the race, another paddler said, “that looks a lot like Tony Hotchkiss’s board.” I said, “That’s because it IS Tony’s board. I bought it off him really recently.” Tony said the prone paddlers are a tight community, and here was proof. The guy knew it was custom made, too.
Props to Peninsula Family YMCA peninsula@ymca.org for the 2010 chapter in an ongoing paddling legend. But where were all you prone paddleboarders? Saving it for Rock-2-Rock? Out of some 100 entrants in the 20-mile course, there were all of 16 prone paddleboarders: four in stock class, four in fourteen-foot class, and eight in unlimited class (including yours truly). Among the stock class was my training partner and good friend, Nick Bryson. We trained out to 20 miles and both wanted to do this race, which begins at Santa Clara Point in Mission Bay, out to open water, south to Point Loma, into San Diego Bay and finishes at Tidelands Park on Coronado. We were first-timers.
Nick and I agreed weeks beforehand we would treat this as a training paddle on the lead up to the Jay race (two weeks off).
The race started oddly. For reasons I won’t go into, I uncharacteristically got to the starting line at least a minute late. OK, I’m a middle-aged guy, and you can no doubt figure out the rest. Nick, who was in the water five minutes early, didn’t start the race from the “starting line” because he was never instructed to head out there, “there” being two buoys about a quarter mile out. And so we were both immediately playing catch-up. Nick got out closer to the starting time and it took me about a half hour to catch up. He went out hard; I was feeling like going strong without sprinting to get decent positioning.
See the orange buoy? Lots of paddlers have gone while others aren't there yet.
The pace showing on my GPS was discouraging, but I knew we were in Mission Bay, paddling up-current against an incoming tide. Fighting that would be a losing battle. Oh, and the wind was in our face. The prevailing north to northwest winds had uncooperatively turned south. We were in for an upwind race. Fortunately, the winds were moderate, but there’s nothing like headwinds to keep you off your knees and down into your prone game.
I did catch up to the pack and Nick, who I distinctly recall saying “Go, Mike” as I passed, which I took to mean I was free to change our plan to stay together. After a good-natured reminder, Nick said, “reel ‘em in” and, shortly after that, “there are nine paddlers in front of you,” all of which I took as a green light. It’s not that I was smelling blood, but I was in the mood to see what I could do. Of course, that’s a mood I’m usually in!
Once we got outside Mission Bay, a couple of OC-6 (six-man outrigger canoes) approached the required turn. (Why weren’t these faster craft sent out in an earlier wave than paddleboarders?) Out in the open water, I could already see Point Loma in the distance. I knew that point was seven miles off, so I knew not to think I was going to be there anytime soon.
I caught up to a stock and a fourteen and these turned out to be who I was closest to the rest of the race. The open water was fairly clean, with some west and northwest swell. The wind stayed moderate, and the kelp kept the surface mostly glassy, at least until Point Loma was a couple of miles off.
Eventually, Point Loma actually “arrived.” I was suddenly in a crowd of craft at the boat with the orange flag we were required to round … including two OC 6’s. Huh? How could they and I be there after all that ocean?
For me, Point Loma was the biggest challenge. While I was prepared for how long the approach was from Mission Bay, I was anything but prepared for the seemingly endless slog around the point I was about to undergo. The UL I had been trading positions with caught two waves and opened up a lead I never closed after that. I found myself in massively confused currents, grunting, powering, fighting, and really frustrated. My lack of local knowledge was biting pretty hard. Just after I finally got around all that, I spotted two women with their OC-2 overturned (Hawaiians shout “HULI!” when that happens). I paddled by feeling great respect for these waters and these two brave athletes in the process of righting their craft. At least the water here is warm.
Roughly the last eight miles of the race takes place after rounding Point Loma, most of that in San Diego Bay. And the five-mile course starts in that Bay (both the 20-mile and the five-mile course finish at Coronado’s Tidelands Park).
San Diego Bay has its own challenges for paddleborders. Boaters are not required to limit their speed, meaning we were attacked by wake crossings often. The bay has its own currents, and the man-made structures create reflection and refraction.
The five-milers included paddleboarders, kayaks, and OCs, all of whom were fresh and cheery. I really enjoyed their company.
I approached the finish to the throb of Polynesian drums. And I was greeted by Hula dancers who conferred a Hawaiian Lei on each arriving paddler. I was touched. OK, it was plastic, but the thought was nice. And there was DeeAnn, greeting me, along with Nick’s family.
It’s exhilarating to finish a race of any length. It just feels good to go hard, then arrive. Nick got 3rd in the stock class; I got 5th in the unlimited class. I realized the frustrations of this race – late start, headwinds, incoming tide, Point Loma’s turbulence– all taught me valuable lessons and made me a better and stronger paddler.
And I’m certainly glad for every stroke. I appreciate deeply what has just been, and, as always, I so look forward to what’s next. I hope I see you at the Jay Moriarity race in Santa Cruz on June 26.
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