Mailbu Downwinder 2012: Gaining a Sense of Place

Mention California Highway 1, better knows as Pacific Coast Highway, and a rush of images follows.  Millions have heard of it. It conjures fabulous ocean vistas, soaring cliffs, romance, surfing, sailing, sun-soaked (and sangria-soaked) beach parties, cool cars and much more.

Heading north from Topanga Beach, and proceeding all the way to Point Mugu, PCH borders the southern edge of the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area, a preserve of some 240 square miles. As you head towards Point Mugu, the bulk of it is to your right, beyond the view of the hill you’re driving next to.  Here’s a park map (available at http://www.nps.gov/common/commonspot/customcf/apps/maps/showmap.cfm?alphacode=samo&parkname=Santa%20Monica%20Mountains):

Growing up, I never thought much about what might be off to my right. I was only interested in seeing the ocean and maybe finding a surf spot. But even from that very limited contact, I always had the sense this was a majestic place.

This year, I would become a little more connected. I signed up for my first Malibu Downwinder. It runs about seven miles from Point Mugu to Leo Carrillo State Park. 

The first thing I noticed about the race entry form was the race’s connection to Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area: checks are made payable to (and thus directly support) the SMMNRA. Race sponsors pay the cost of operating the race.

As I thought about signing up, I recalled that I had seen an online video of last year’s race. The video showed that the pre-race gathering was led by a member of the Chumash people. The Chumash people, it turns out, are rooted in this land. And significant artifacts as well as sacred lands lie within SMMNRA.

After I signed up, I had one problem to solve. Downwinders offer the chance to go for an entire paddle with the wind and ride bumps. The downside of downwinders is the logistics of a one-way race that ends someplace not near the starting line. Transportation is needed to “close the loop” between you and your car. Kathryn Tubbs kindly agreed to meet me at Cabrillo Beach and get me and a couple of others up to the starting line.

When I arrived at Cabrillo, something seemed to be missing: so far, the wind wasn't showing up for the party. No matter, it would likely pick up by race time. I took the opportunity to look for the best line into the beach – in other words, how to end the race gracefully. There was a nice swell on. So nice it that bringing a surfboard may have been the more appropriate choice. Getting to the beach on a paddleboard through waves can be tricky. You can get home fast, or, alternatively, you can get your butt kicked and your pricey paddleboard trashed.

The waves built through the day.

Other paddlers arrived. I only know a few of the SoCal contingent, this was a chance to get to know a few more. I was glad to see familiar faces from Santa Cruz:  Paul Ban, Mike Dilloughery, Tony Mueller and Craig Waltz.  I got to reconnect with Reno Caldwell, who paddled the Island-to-Island race with Kathryn and me in October 2011. Note: If you’re not smiling after hanging with Reno, check your pulse.  Tony Hotchkiss was there. I bought a marvelous paddleboard from Tony and always am glad to see him.  Joe Bark, Jack and Sam were there, too.

I had signed up for the men’s legends class. Once I laid eyes on Tony, I joked that the pressure was off. In addition to Tony, some of the fastest paddlers anywhere can be expected to show for this race, and on this day, show they did. But there’s that ever-present challenge, the only one that matters: what can I do today?

The race starts at Mugu State Beach, north of Mugu Rock – an iconic PCH landmark. After checking in, preparing the board, stretching, and chatting, it was time for pre-race instructions. After that, a member of the Chumash, traditionally dressed, conducted the opening ceremony. His message was simple and profound: Now that we all call this sacred place home, we must work together to care for the land and for the ocean. There was no undercurrent to this message, it was all about looking forward, and doing so together.

Leading chant, talking story, building community.

We headed out to line up for the race. I had to wait for an opportunity to paddle out without getting trashed by the beach bombs.  Kathryn was not only kind enough to haul a few of us up to Point Mugu, she also took charge of my camera.

Tiptoeing through the beach bombs.

Reno Caldwell: the Redondo Rocket ready to launch.

There we all were, ready to go. Only one thing missing: the wind. We had a flatwater paddle in front of us.

The horn sounds and the chase is on!

No matter. It was a gorgeous day and I was paddling pristine coastline I had never experienced. That made it special.

I had a fun race, and I even found one good bump in spite of the wind's absence.  At the approach to the finish, as I rounded the buoy, I caught a wave. But it was big enough that I knew I had to let go of it before it crested. I caught a much smaller one inside, turned my board over to a caddy, and ran up the beach. I was all smiles.

I'm the small object in front of the wave.

Post-race parking lot.

Fun way to signal the end of the race!

That night, Malibu moon scene.

Thanks to this event, I learned something about SMMNHA. I took the time to look on the internet for its website, and found that a jewel was under my nose all these years. I also experienced an affable and articulate member of the Chumash people. I am now more connected to this place I always knew was special. Perhaps next year, the winds will blow me back to this particular starting line.

Santa Cruz Downwind (aka Davenport Downwinder) 2012: Think Outside the Bay

Ghostryder Watermans Club is a nonprofit corporation that uses its events to raise funds for the Santa Cruz Junior Lifeguards program. This year, GRWC decided not to host the logistical nightmare that is the Monterey Bay Crossing, choosing instead to better energize the 14-mile Davenport Downwinder. With new sponsors on board, their efforts paid off.

For raw downwind, open-ocean confrontation along majestic, undeveloped, rugged California coastline, this race delivered.

 GRWC’s invitation made this clear: advanced paddlers only. Anyone who might have missed the point just needed to take one look at the course map:

The course. No food, no services, just gas.

Conditions didn’t need to be maxed out to get your full attention, start to finish. It’s obvious this run is to be taken seriously. One look from the beach tells you anything can happen out there, and fast. So it’s easy to understand why some of the best paddlers from all over California showed up, both prone and SUP.

Davenport Landing offers a large, crescent beach nestled between two point breaks.   (Click on photos to enlarge, then hit your browser's back button to return to this story.)

Mike Roberts told me the waves get big here and have played havoc with this race before. Today, we got lucky.

Paddlers arrived, checked in, and caught up on the latest with each other. Our energy level uniformly rose as race time neared.

Mike Roberts, readying his ride.

Thanks, Mike, for providing transport to Davenport!

A total stranger was kind enough to offer to take this. And also kind enough to give my camera back to me.

BARK-ing sands. Reno Caldwell is the one holding up his board and throwing shaka.

Jack Bark, Reno Caldwell, Steve Shlens, about to kill it.

Zach Wormhoudt described the course and safety, and we got ourselves ready to go.

Today, there wasn’t much surf, so the beach start was easy. The first challenge was to paddle crosswind in order to accomplish two things. First, staying too far inside meant getting hung up in kelp and fighting to stay away from shore. Second, the runners are better farther out.

The difficult part was that refraction off of the various points along the course caused some disorganized water. I got bucked off my board a few times. But that was a small price to pay for all those fun bumps I caught.

Mike Roberts and I did some good training runs in Monterey this year, and now we were both cashing in, having a blast. During our training runs we kept track of the fastest bump. We were over the moon when my Garmin said we hit 12 mph on our best run. But at the Davenport race, I dropped into one that was even faster:

The venue, the day, and the conditions were so enthralling I took the time to snap a few photos from the water. I figured I could just let it be a race for someone else (for once) and free myself to take in my surroundings a bit more. I’m really happy I did.

Bumps everywhere!

Josh Pederson caught me in the act of taking this photo.

On the approach to the Santa Cruz Municipal Pier, just outside Seal Rock, Josh Pederson and I caught up to each other and paddled in together to the finish. It was a great way to end one of the best races I have been in.

It was obvious at the awards party that every last paddler was amped from the run. The talking had so much energy that poor Zach could hardly be heard as he announced the awards.

Which speaks volumes about what the real reward was: if you did this race, you won. Period.

How to Turn the 5-Mile Pier-2-Pier Into 27

The annual Pier-2-Pier (Santa Cruz to Capitola) is an event I can't bring myself to miss. But if I was going to do it, I somehow had to turn it to the purpose of training for the Catalina Classic - a 32-mile race I have registered for but have not yet been accepted into. I was slated for 27.

The Pier-2-Pier has accurately been called the un-race. No fee, no tee, no awards, just paddle. It's much a social event as it is anything else - the vibe is the best anywhere. I figured on going out slow and backing off.

The first step was to begin my day at 6 am, in Capitola, where the race ends, and paddle the five miles up to the race's start at the Santa Cruz Municipal Pier.

The drive up from Carmel began just after 5am. It was mostly clear, but I could see fog over the middle of Monterey Bay. When I got to Capitola, I was greeted with morning magic.

I got in the water just after 6:30 and headed west (Santa Cruz and Capitola face south).

On my paddle through morning glass, I was surprised at how much open water there was between the Capitola pier and Pleasure Point. Especially since it was a nearly zero tide. The waves were down, and the tide would rise a foot higher by the time the racers were going to come through, so this route was definitely preferable to taking the longer line outside the kelp.

After passing Pleasure Point, on my way to the Santa Cruz Harbor, I saw some dolphins. Their size surprised me. I almost got a picture – that disturbance in the water in the photo below is where the dolphins were.

 

I stopped to talk to two other paddlers (a prone and a SUP), and tried to sell them on coming to the race. I pointed out there’s no cost, and it’s all about the fun. Many paddlers aren’t really there to compete.  Really. Then I realized they might not paddle fast enough to get to the starting line on time. Then I realized I wasn’t exactly going to be really early and got going, leaving my new-found friends to paddle on their own.

I arrived just after 7:40, and here’s the scene as I emerged from the water:

I was hardly late. Easily half the field arrived after I signed up.

This event happens because a magnet shows up in the form of David King. If you don't immediately take a liking to Dave, you should have your pulse checked.

Also on the beach was Phil Curtis, just back from a two-year Peace Corps stint. This was going to be his first paddle anywhere near five miles for over two years. He was beaming. 

Before the paddle can begin, it's traditional to pose for this picture:

... and Dave has to discuss conditions, etc. The previous day, a shark had been sighted in the New Brighton Beach area. Any questions? No? Let's get in the water.

 And sure enough, right by the pier, another shark sighting:

 But it was only a sand shark.

OK, I'm always down for a bad joke.

So, we got in the water:

It seemed a more or less even split between prone paddlers and stand-ups. I started out a little fast, but did back off to a pace I thought I could hold onto while not sabotaging the 17 miles that would follow the race. The fog moved in. I followed the coast all the way to Pleasure Point, which added some distance, but at least I knew where I was. Once around the point,  visibility improved.

I got to the beach in Capitola just inside one hour, and in time to catch a still-smiling Phil emerging from his paddle:

My plan was to hang out on the beach and talk to friends until all the paddlers arrived, then find someone who was going to paddle back to Santa Cruz. This has always happened, but today, I couldn't find a single one.  So, I headed to my car, re-filled my water bottle, and headed west.

The next seventeen miles took me back to Pleasure Point and beyond. On the way to Pleasure Point, I saw a paddler in front of me and soon realized the paddler was going my direction. A surfer in the lineup joked that the paddler in front of me wasn't in the race, so I would win. I caught up and said "Hi." It was Suzanne, a long-time paddler and resident, whom I often see on my paddles from New Brighton Beach. Suzanne is good company, and this paddle was a good chance to catch up - we stuck together, talking until we got to the harbor, where she turned back and I went on.

The sun came out, and the northwest wind picked up. When I got back to the lane, I decided to paddle back inside to Cowell's Beach and follow the shoreline back to Pleasure Point to maximize distance.

Bad decision. Had I gone on a straight line (or out to the mile buoy), I would have had nice downwind run. The line I took led me into crosswind chop and backwash from the shoreline. It was the opposite of that smooth glass I had so enjoyed earlier. But it's all good training -- you never know what race day will be like.

Paddling all the way to New Brighton Beach, I was still short some distance. I took one last trip most of the way to Pleasure Point. By now, some surfers were out in just boardshorts. it was that warm in the sun.

I completed the 27 miles. It was tempting to hang out in Capitola. There were lots of people, and the town was preparing for the Wharf-to-Wharf run, to be held the following day. But I had a nice sandwich DeeAnn had prepared for me and a long drive back. A drive made longer by an inch-by-inch traffic jam from south of Watsonville to south of Moss Landing. What had been a 50-minute drive up turned into a 90 minute crawl back.

I could have paddled home faster than that! Or maybe not.

11th Annual Jay Race (2012)

I'm still a relative newcomer to Paddleboarding. My first Jay race was five years ago, in 2008, when I was "just 54." I'm slowly getting to know some people in the paddling community, and that in spite of being exceptionally slow with names. Those connections make me look forward to the races for an entirely non-racing reason. There are exceptional people in this sport. There are others with whom I haven't had the chance to talk much, but still light me up on sight. Then there's the one I never met in person: Jay Moriarity. But thanks to this race that bears his name and the front-and-center group of his closest (starting with Kim Moriarity), his positive influence not only lives, but grows and expands in all of us. And all of us are all ages.

It's a well-run race that attracts a huge field of paddling talent. It's a gathering of muscle and heart you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else, and it takes in all ages. This year, the genders in the races balanced like never before. And it's also the most family-oriented major competition in paddling, guaranteeing at once the future of the sport and the future of the city's junior lifeguards program (contest proceeds support that program). Individual accomplishment and personal connections go hand in glove. Not unlike the legendary relationship between Jay and Frosty. Or Jay and Kim.

While the race has a rep for being among the best organized, I was anything but. I barely left myself a moment to say 'hi' to anyone as I went about preparing.  But I got my board prepped and myself stretched in time to get out for warmup paddle. Visiting was going to have to wait until post race.

The organizers made one little mistake: they thought it would be okay with all of us (in the 12-mile prone race) to stay on the beach for a picture, then paddle out and more or less immediately start the race. They were wrong.

I was already in the water before this plan was announced. I was really happy to have gotten safely out, past that south swell, I fully intended to loosen up, and I was not about to head back in for any photo op at that point.

Comically, as the announcement was repeated over and over, more and more of us got in the water. Finally, sensibly, they reconciled to the inevitable and gave up on that!

Thus, the 12-mile prone paddleboard race began promptly at 8:30 AM.

If you were a spectator on Capitola beach and all you saw was the race's start and finish, then all you saw was smooth glass punctuated by a decent south swell. But as we in the race approached Pleasure Point, headwinds became a factor.

Paddling upwind means negotiating chop. It's not uncommon to train by first paddling upwind for resistance training and then turning downwind for a fun finish to the workout. That approach came in handy now.

Then there was that pesky current by the Santa Cruz Municipal Pier that wanted to carry us out to sea, challenging us to make the next buoy that marked our turn beyond the pier.  The leg after the turn runs crosswind, as we make our way out the "Mile Buoy" (located about a mile outside of Santa Cruz Harbor). The wind kicked up even more, making it with fairly challenging crosswind leg.

Once at the Mile Bouy, and having been greeted by a local pack of vocal seals whose residence appears to be said buoy, the real fun began: a very nice downwind run to surf our way back to Pleasure Point. There were plenty of bumps to catch and surf, and the bumps were lined up, speeding us back towards Capitola.

The race ended as it began, in glass, but you were aware that south swell could send you over the falls at the end. Unlike last year (when I got smashed on the way in), I got lucky this year.

It was fun training for it, it was fun anticipating it, it was way fun actually being out there, and it was way, way fun hanging with everyone after it was over  - beginnning with my usual training partners (Mike "M2" McDaniel (trained less but bested his last year's performance), Mike "M3"Roberts, Paul Wetterau (trains a little and kicks butt anyway), and Nick Bryson.

At the end of the day ... was a party. And some awards were passed out, too.

In the Fourteen Foot prone class, Joe Beek came in first, Reno Caldwell got second, and I got third. It felt just amazing to be in their company.

Kim took the time to stand with each group of winners and pose for a picture. She is the queen of the contest and she is quick to light up every one of us. Long may she reign!

And to DeeAnn, thanks, with all my heart. This was very special year indeed.

Quick 'hi' to Josh on the way out.

Mike McDaniel board check, Mike Roberts, supplicant.

Good year, gender balance progress was substantial.

Paul Wetterau marches to the battlefield.

Mike McDaniel, smiling about the pain sure to follow.

Mike Eaton, meet Joe Bark, Joe, meet Mike.

We all decided to get out there, even as the call for a group photo fell on deaf ears.

.

Jarrett Winter (foreground), Paul Wetterau (with green board), and others.

The prone paddleboard field: over 50

Jamie Mitchell, 1st SUP.

This year, I caught a nice one in. For once!

And I was able to find my feet (in past years, not so much)...

... and actually run to my finish. Since Mike Roberts could not assist (he came in way ahead)!

Nick Bryson, finishing strong.

Mike McDaniel, 10 minutes ahead of last year.

With Nick Bryson.

Thanks, Jody Roberts and DeeAnn for photos!