Sunday, July 25, 2010

Bay Crossing


According to Google Maps, it’s a 41-mile drive from the Santa Cruz Municipal Wharf to Del Monte beach’s south end, at Wharf 2 – the REAL fisherman’s wharf in Monterey.  It’s about 26 miles as the seagull flies. Being paddlers in search of an open ocean adventure, the Ghostryders Watermen Club organized a race the “short” way across the bay. To add spice, a slight detour to MBARI’s M1 bouy, located just along Monterey Bay’s deepwater canyon, was added – lengthening the course to 28 miles and taking paddlers to a point about 12 miles from the closest shore.



The course.


I wasn’t against doing the Second Annual Monterey Bay Crossing, but I wasn’t sure I was for it, either. I knew from talking to last year’s paddlers it gets ugly out there.  The course itself is daunting in any conditions. And there are things swimming out there that deter the faint of heart, and even the not-so-faint-of-heart. Reports from last year’s paddlers were: crossed up swells washing over their boards, arresting forward progress; dense fog; wind and chop. There was pain.

Then the required chase boat was found. I was in. I would have gone solo. But I was happier to be on a relay team, at least for my first crossing. Kathryn Tubbs, Mike McDaniel, Waylon Olson and I started exchanging emails. It was quickly revealed that the logistics alone were a big commitment.

The teams were: Kathryn and Waylon; Mike and me.

Our team’s experience included Kathryn Tubbs’ several Catalina Classic solo runs; Mike McDaniel’s 22 Mile Lake Tahoe Classic completed last year (me, too); Waylon’s Jay Races, and my 20-mile Bay 2 Bay (Mission Bay to San Diego Bay) race. It was the first Monterey Bay crossing for each of us.

Kathryn didn’t want to use her stock board while, at the same time, Mike and I used his unlimited. I had already pledged my Bark unlimited to Paul Wetterau, so Kathryn called around for an unlimited and landed a good one from the shop floor of none other than Joe Bark. Some people have great connections.

We decided on 20-minute paddling intervals and matched paddlers sharing the water for similar speed during each segment. Each of us would paddle approximately 14 miles of the 28.

FRIDAY NIGHT, PRERACE MEETING
Ghostryders Watermen Club organizes this race and held a prerace meeting at the Miramar Restaurant, located on the Santa Cruz Municipal Wharf. When DeeAnn and I arrived, Craig Waltz, Zach Wormhoudt and others were checking people in, answering questions, and handing out stuff for the race.

Our two relay teams checked in as:
 

      Team Nor-So-Cal: Kathryn Tubbs and Waylon Olson
      Time Mikes: Mike McDaniel and your truly

Ghostryders renamed Team Mikes as “Team Carmel Watermen” (unbeknownst to us), giving recognition to the club on our side of the Bay of the same name.

Kathryn, Mike, Waylon and I met with Dennis, our boat captain. New to paddleboarding but experienced with outrigger canoes, he turned out to be fully engaged in our mission and clearly wanted to do everything possible to make this crossing a smashing success. He was experienced, knowledgeable, articulate, and likeable. What more could we ask! We worked out how stuff would get on and off the boat and how the paddlers not on the beach at the start or the finish would get on or off the boat. We parked three cars in three different locations before it was over.

Things got sorted out, and DeeAnn and I left early enough to get some sleep.

SATURDAY, JULY 17, 2010, SHORTLY BEFORE 5:20 A.M.
I get a text message from Mike: “I am at the beach. Where are you?” I am mere minutes away. Mike and I were the first to arrive of anyone connected with the race. I would do that again, even if not a rookie. Santa Cruz, still and dark, at the beach, by the Wharf. Air saturated with fog and possibility. Yes, I would do that again.

Soon, Kathryn and Waylon show up. Everyone is in a good mood, even though it’s already obvious there is fog allowing us to see only so far past the pier.

We organized the stuff destined for our boat, DeeAnn took a group shot, and Waylon and I stayed on the beach to start the race, connecting with the other paddlers, warming up, waiting.

Mike, Waylon, Kathryn, me
Bay Crossing's Class of 2010


6:30 AM
 


My favorite way to start a paddleboard race is … in the water. After all, it’s a paddling race. Starting on the beach is a pain. Ever try running at full speed with an 18-foot paddleboard? They’re light compared to 20 years ago, but they’re not that light.

Not today. The intended tradition is a “Le Mans” start. This is French for tiring you out early. Here’s how that works.  A line is drawn in the sand not far from, and parallel to, the water line. All paddleboards are lined up to the beach side of the line, noses to the water. All paddlers stand on the beach side of their respective paddleboards. On “go,” all paddlers run away from the ocean, touch the wall on the far side of the beach, run back to the paddleboard, grab, run into the ocean, and begin paddling. 28 miles. Across the Bay. At least I’m a runner. There are a few of us with bad knees who don’t like this great tradition too well. But there it is: you wanna race, you do it by the rules. So I ran. OK, I ran at, like, 80 percent so I wouldn’t be sucking in air through my ears before I even started paddling. But run I did. 

Le Mans Start: Running Away


And you know what? I liked it. There’s something kind of fun about running in the sand, probably because I did that so much as a kid. I was warmed up going into the ocean. And it helped me deal with the adrenaline hit. The one I got while staring into fog and darkness, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into this time.

Waylon and I ran about the same pace, and I got in the water just behind him. Although we were the best match in our two-relay-team paddle, behind him is where I found myself for the rest of the race. He’s not just thirty years younger than I am, he’s really fast. It was fun watching him having a great time in his first Bay Crossing, just as we all were.

So off we went, boldly paddling where no man/woman should go!

We learned as we went. The first time Mike McDaniel turned it back over to me, he gave me a good shove to get me going. That was a rush! We got better and better at changeovers each time.

Twenty minutes came and went quickly every time. It never got old. It’s a good choice for relay. All four of us maintained something close to our best pace very consistently.

On the boat, Captain Dennis was vigilant about our course, monitored conditions, scouted sea life, constantly fed us useful information, took pictures for us, told us when we were close to our changeover time, and shared great stories. His skill and his engagement with us was remarkable. We were truly a team of five.

Mike McDaniel Looks on as Waylon (right) and I (left) take our turn churning it out.


The fog lifted, but the marine layer stayed. While that made the sky and the water different shades of gray, it was certainly easy on the eyes. As we ventured out, we settled into our work, paddling through smooth water across swells, as we patiently awaited our arrival at the M1 Buoy. The swell was quite tame, a small south and a slightly larger northwest. It wasn’t until well after we had rounded the buoy, turning slightly east, that a light northwest wind came up.

The hand plunks in (the catch), pulls through to power the stroke (the pull) and releases at the end. The paddleboard accelerates and glides, and that’s the ride. On a glassy day like this, it was a very smooth ride, pure pleasure in motion. The water was a little cold this day.

Gliding forward through the water, our starting point at our backs, all we could see was the water ahead. Land disappeared, if not from view, certainly from my awareness. It’s the sense of leaving land behind that shifts all perspective. I suspect it’s a big part of what we all came for. There’s also the awareness that comes from being on the open ocean, in deep water.

There were the usual seals and sea lions, I spotted a dolphin that ran toward the boat from Kathryn, whales (blue, gray, orca), basking sharks, it’s all out there.

The time on the boat was also fun, hooting for our team mates, getting to know Waylon and Dennis, chowing as needed, taking in the ocean sites, stretching to stay loose, and taking pictures with Mike’s and Kathryn’s cameras. I was surprised I never got cold, but if we did, Dennis offered the heated cabin.

The M1 buoy, Buoy 46042, is located along the Monterey Meander of the Soquel Canyon and is a clean looking data collector – a round yellow platform and tower clad with solar panels. According to the National Data Buoy Center, M1 sits in 1,574 meters (5,162 feet) of water. Dennis said it is anchored by a chain so long that it will drift by up to a half mile. That’s to allow for winds and storm conditions, so the chain won’t break when it gets rough. The buoy has provided data continuously for over 20 years.

More than three hours into our paddle, Mike and Kathryn got to be the ones to round the buoy. As they approached it, Waylon shouted out: “There are Krispy Kremes on the Buoy.” After that, he couldn’t stop thinking about Krispy Kremes.  We may have been feeling giddy, but we were all nevertheless in awe. Days later, I saw a photo of one our finest paddlers taking his break there. As in, he climbed on the buoy and stood on it, apparently contemplating the place and taking it in. Truly admirable to fully experience that moment in that place!

Mike and Kathryn, and a milestone


I was pleasantly surprised that several boats and their paddlers were behind us. One started to gain on us, and eventually Josh Pederson passed us. Josh bested Waylon in the Jay Race, just weeks before. Now Waylon wanted to turn the tables. I said, “we should do something about that.” Waylon agreed. We played tag, and when Josh gained on us, his boat’s siren sounded. That rivalry (though hardly unfriendly) brought out the best in all of us.

Dennis quipped that things were getting a little boring. We all understood this kind of boring is a very welcome thing!

As we approached the Monterey Peninsula, the tide came in, it’s favorable push towards shore augmented by light winds and a few runners to catch and ride.
 

In spite of that, a current slowed us down, but we were soon past it and on our way to the finish. The sun broke through and the sky turned blue, along with the water.
Mike McDaniel, on the approach to the finish.


Sticking to our regimen of 20 minute changeovers, it fell to Waylon and me to finish the race. I was hoping it would be Mike and Kathryn, since Waylon and I got to start the race. But this gave Waylon the final say over Josh, and he didn’t hesitate to open up a convincing lead.

As for Josh, keep in mind he paddled the 28 miles solo.  I sprinted through the now placid waters by the wharf and got to the beach ahead of him, but barely. Remembering that the official rules allowed me to leave the board on the beach and run to the finish, I did just that. Unfortunately for Josh, and unbeknownst to me, I parked right in Josh’s path. As I crossed the finish, Waylon quipped: “Nice move!” I plead innocent. I had no idea where he was behind me, just that he wasn’t in front of me. 


Gassing it ...
... blocking, cluelessly ...
... and running with all I have left.


I passed the flags on the beach and received a very warm Ghostryders welcome. I told Dave King it’s nice to be in the club. He looked at me like there was never a question, smiled and said, “You’re in the club!”

Our official finish times:

    Team Nor-So-Cal: 6 hours, 6 minutes
    Team Carmel Watermen: 6 hours, 7 minutes

The sixth member of the Team was, of course, DeeAnn. No race could be half as good without her encouragement and support, but her constant presence and help made this day especially a true joy.  And she takes some very nice pictures! Here's a favorite:




DeeAnn also brought lots of food, as did the race organizers. Everyone on the beach was partying over finishing the crossing and hooting in the next finisher. I took the liberty of announcing Paul Wetterau’s arrival at the top of my lungs and a smile broke over his face as he stood up for the run up the beach. Paul took very good care of my board and finished in 6 hours, 22 minutes, a triumph.

Paul Wetterau, believing it.
So we stuck three paddleboards on our car, dropping Mike's Bark and Kathryn's borrowed Bark at Mike's, and went home to clean up and nap. My rack required adaptation to a third board, and we had to get creative.

It was secure. REALLY!


I got a call from Brian Mullen while  on the way home from dropping off the boards at Mike's. Brian wanted to hear it all. I willingly obliged. Brian asked, “So, are you thinking about going solo next year?”  I replied, “Brian, right now, I’m thinking about a nap.” I took the nap, we’ll see about the other!

6:00 PM
The final tradition (all of two years) in this race is the dinner gathering back at Miramar, where we had seen everyone the night before. We had our own room. It’s something to witness these watermen connecting with each other, bringing their families and mates, and keeping it all real. Kathryn got recognition and a trophy for being the first woman to participate – winning the women’s division. 




And, on a cellphone call from the Miramar, Waylon bought the Bark. Joe knew exactly what he was doing!


Thank you, Mike, Kathryn, Waylon, Dennis, and DeeAnn. I couldn't have spent such a special day with better.


Friday, July 2, 2010

Jay Race 2010

This year’s prerace tribute to Jay Moriarity was especially inspiring for me.  My favorite part was Grant Washburn telling us how he was stressing over how to approach big water he was about to enter, when Jay walked up and said something like: “Just look at that beautiful sky!” All of this was to say that Jay, first and foremost, stood in appreciation of all that surrounded him and just knew everything would work out well, even in big water.  Of course, his well-honed waterman skills backed that up. 


Listening to Jay's stories, inspiring as ever.


My own intention that I had set for this race was simply to experience fully the joy in paddling, and this story got me off to the perfect start.

This was my third annual Jay race, so by now, I’m starting to get to know a few fellow paddlers from the Santa Cruz area. At the top of that list is Nick Bryson, who’s become a great training partner this year (Nick not only became a contender in the stock class, he learned how to keep a water bottle attached to his board!). But there are many others, and having all of us in one place is amazing.

Monterey’s representation included Mike McDaniel, Mike Roberts, Paul Wetterau, John Alexiou, and yours truly. Among the So Cal contingent was Catalina Classic veteran Kathryn Tubbs, whom I met through Mike McDaniel.

In the end, it's all about the paddle.  





A sampling of the craft 

The twelve-mile course begins and ends at New Brighton State Beach, extends past Pleasure Point to the harbor buoy near the Santa Cruz Municipal Pier, turns straight out to sea, to the “one-mile” buoy, then returns to finish.




But conditions are everything. Winds, currents and swell all play a pivotal part every year, no exceptions. The course conditions this year must have been at least as fast as last year. For example, Craig Waltz (second place in unlimited class) finished in 1:57.3, compared to his first place finish of 2:00.5 in 2009.

But that’s not to say it was the same.

Consider that unlimited class 3rd place Tod Robinson (1:58.4) reported that his GPS showed the top three were on pace to break the course record by the time they reached the harbor buoy, near the muni pier. The course record, 1:51:58, a pace of 0:9:20 per mile, was set by Chad Carvin 2008. Yet, the winner’s average pace for the 12-mile course this year was 0:9:52 per mile (Anthony Vela, 1:58.4). So, sure, there were lots of runners to surf from the one-mile buoy back to New Brighton Beach, but that should have sped them up, not slowed them down. Maybe it was the combo northwest and south swells that did it.

I found the course indeed had many faces this year, and I enjoyed each one.

This was the first time I was present for the unique pleasure of standing in hip-high water with no wetsuit while little waves washed up to our waists, the prescribed “standing start” for the race. On shore, a bagpipe's drone-and-melody performance could be heard over the many pleas from the water to start the race already.

Finally, the horn was blown and the paddlers created a great current in the direction of the first required turn. I love to ride that current, and I did so today. Then there was the smooth segment to Pleasure Point, followed by the backwashy segment to the harbor buoy with a bit of a headwind. And that run out to the mile buoy is always work. Smooth and strong was my mantra for those segments.

Rounding the buoy I managed not to attract too much attention from the resident sea lions, then I caught a few of those Northwest runners. Some went really well, others spun me out (unlike unlimited boards, I have no rudder), and twice I went dead in the water because of crossed-up swell.

Mike Roberts must have caught more runners and rode them longer, because that’s how he passed me up. I didn’t even know that was him less than a half mile further out than I was.

I next headed for Pleasure Point, to get inside the kelp line. I planned to do that before the race even started, but now it wasn’t an easy choice. Few ever do that. I wondered now if I was about to badly blow it. I started to second-guess myself. I had to think back on the reasons why I thought this was a good idea and ask myself if those reasons were valid right now. I headed in.

I found out later it was the smart call – Roberts encountered demons in the outside line’s waters.  A solid paddler in any conditions, Mike told me he fell four times. That said it all about what the outside-the-kelp line was like after passing Pleasure Point. The inside line, on the other hand, was relatively clear of kelp, and the tide was incoming. Conditions were clean, the surface like glass. So, although Mike blew past me mid-race, we approached the finish in a classic paddle battle, except that we approached the finish at nearly a right angle to each other – he aimed straight for shore from the outside, me paddling the shoreline from the inside.






Me on the approach (above); Mike Roberts looking at me and contemplating the kill (below).

I got there first. But to complete the race, there’s that stinkin’ beach finish. Gotta run up the beach, through the big red archway.

Three years of this race has taught me that my perception of where the ground is changes after the better part of 2 ½ hours with my face just inches from the water. The sudden change from prone to standing leaves me unable to judge the distance from eyeball to ground. The ground looks closer than it actually is. When that happens, I just can’t find my feet. This shouldn't be.  I’m a runner. I’ve completed a half marathon each year for the past six years. But now, here I am, about to be edged out Roberts, because I’m repeatedly falling on my face, crawling, and laughing uncontrollably.

What does Mike do? Laughing as hard as I am, he grabs me with authority under my arm and runs me through the finish. We tied for equal 5th in the fourteen foot class. The entire race had been a joy, and this just put it over the top for me.


Is this a great sport, or what!!!!!


(L to R) Nick Bryson, Jody Roberts' back, Mike Roberts, me.







Mike McDaniel, Kathryn Tubbs


Paul Wetterau, flanked by two Mikes
For me, this year’s Jay Race was the Joy Race. After this one, I find myself hoping I'll still be racing when I’m 90, and that this paddle race, this tribute to surfing’s icon of joyfully pursuing going big, will outlive us all.






Thanks to DeeAnn Thompson for the photos and so much more!