12th Annual Jay Race - Not Business As Usual

The paddleboard race with the sunniest vibe anywhere has to be the Surftech Jay Moriarity Memorial Paddleboard Race, aka the Jay Race. And indeed, the sun greeted us as we arrived in Capitola.

My first clue this day wouldn’t be business as usual came when DeeAnn and I learned an entire parking lot was being held off-limits to most of us. I later discovered the size of this event had nearly tripled. But we were there so early, it didn’t matter.

Next, our brilliant sun disappeared: fog moved in rather suddenly and for the first time in the six years I’ve been here, the race was delayed. We couldn’t see the first turn buoy from shore, and word came from the harbor that visibility wasn’t adequate to start the race at 8:30 a.m., as planned.  

Thanks to DeeAnn for the photos ... and soooo much loving support. Click on any photo on enlarge, hit <Esc> to return to the blog.

There goes the visibility ...

Privates may as well be, well, ... private.

No matter. There was plenty of sunshine supplied by organizers, the Santa Cruz paddling community, and visiting paddlers alike -- and none more than Kim Moriarity. There was good reason to smile. We were around 350 strong, diverse in both age and equipment, and ready for fun.  I don’t think I’m going too far out on a limb to say the Jay Race now ranks on par with any in the world in challenge, venue and vibe. Indeed, the field includes regulars from the Catalina Classic, Molokai-2-Oahu, and many others (it’s also a qualifying race for the Catalina Classic).

The late start wasn’t the only difference in this year’s conditions. We were told there wasn’t going to be much wind, if any.  That meant the leg normally supplying a nice push home wasn’t going to live up to its reputation. And the incoming tide would be going against us as we headed out to the Mile Buoy.

Knowing there’d be a wait, but not knowing how long, I opted for a warm-up paddle. When I got back to shore, I spotted Reno Caldwell and his board. I ran up the beach and nearly succeeded in spearing him before he noticed me. My war shout might have gotten his attention. All in good fun, of course! We talked a while, then I headed up the beach to hang with DeeAnn. Then I took a jog on the beach to the volleyball net and back.

We waited and waited. The fog was in charge at this point.

But Mike McDaniel and Liza Ortiz knew there are ways to stay warm.

Checking in with Reno Caldwell. Reno is about to smoke the field of fourteens.

Bill Jones, Monterey Legend who still travels and rips.

Paul Wettereau, uncharacteristically (haha) stoked.
He probably worked until after 1 am (Paul's a sommelier), slept a few minutes, and still got here on time.

Ed Guzman (Club Ed surfschool). Nuthin' but sunshine. Fog? What fog??

I never get tired of seeing all my paddling friends so lit up.

Finally, nearly an hour after the intended start time, we were cleared to go.

Next, another change was announced: we’d have a beach start, the first in my six years in this event.

The Carmel Surfabout distance paddle is a beach start. That race is for surfboards only, and it’s about a 1.5 mile sprint paddle. At that race, I had fun sprinting for the water, board under my arm.

For me, an endurance-length paddleboard race is different.  I have a 14-foot paddleboard under my arm that’s rigged with mounted water bottles and taped-on gels. I’d like those things to be on my board for the whole race. And in a race as packed as this one, it wouldn’t be hard to bang into another Bark board (cost: over $2,000 new). Nope, no sprinting for me!

Some run harder than others.

But we all made into the water. Now to business: 12 miles to go.

Right out of the gates, Reno, aka "Redondo Rocket," was living up to his nickname. He didn’t give a second thought to running into the water at full speed. I managed to pull up behind him, showed myself I could keep up for a few dozen yards, then decided it would be a bad idea for me to go out that fast. So much for bragging rights. Reno went on to take the 14-foot division.

It was a little spooky paddling towards the lead boat and into the fog. I could see (and smell) the boat even as we rounded the first orange buoy and headed towards the not-yet-visible green buoy sitting outside Pleasure Point.  Somewhere not far past the orange buoy sat a familiar local greeter on his longboard: Brian Spear. With full fishing gear. I wished Brian luck and advised against taking anything over ten feet.

Since there’s no sprinting in a race this long, it’s not hard to exchange conversation with other paddlers – although no more than a sentence or two in turn. It makes the race more fun and it’s a reality check on whether I’m staying within my abilities. Somewhere between Pleasure Point and the Municipal Pier, Joe Bark caught up with me. Joe paddles a 15’ 6” unlimited. We said hi and Joe told me that prone paddleboards are getting more popular (he should know!). I’m very happy to hear that. I had imagined that stand-up paddling was edging out prone paddling. But Joe said our SUP counterparts are crossing over, and others are adopting prone paddling for cross training. I thought of Joel Parkinson, who team paddled the Molokai-2-Oahu race last year. That same year, Joel finally was crowned ASP’s world champion. After all those seconds, it seems to me that paddling Molo must have helped make a difference in some way. Or so I’d like to believe.

Neither Joe nor I could spot the Municipal Pier until we were within about a mile. It looked to me as though we, and the paddlers in front of us, had gone wide. Joe agreed.  It was now a straight shot to the next turn buoy sitting beyond and inside the pier’s end. About then, Matt Becker sped past us both on his SUP. He and Joe exchanged a sentence or two, I chimed in with my cheer, and off he went.

Passing the pier and rounding our next turn, we were now headed for deep water and the Mile Buoy. I say “we” loosely; Joe has now passed me and I won’t be chatting with him any further. Nor with anyone else.

The paddle out to the Mile Buoy is smooth, unlike any other year. It’s normally a battle against crosswind chop. Today, it’s near-glass, but we’re paddling into a rising tide, slowing us down. I can hear the buoy’s low, throaty organ-like note, but can’t see it. The direction of that sound suggests to me that the SUPs I can see are wide. I decide to stay with my line as there’s no crosswind to carry me to my left.

I’m now used to the idea that it’s a long paddle out to the buoy. Even so, it’s a long paddle out to the buoy. I finally see it when I’m less than half a mile away. Some time after that I hear a sea lion barking.  I look up and find I’m nearly there.

Rounding the buoy on my left shoulder, I’m now headed back to the Pleasure Point green buoy. But visibility is still low. I can see neither the next buoy nor Pleasure Point. Because I have no way to visually gauge my progress and because there’s no tailwind, this segment feels considerably longer than in any past race. What I see ahead is a long line of silent, slender, surreal sentinels -- silhouetted stand up paddlers doing battle all the way into foggy oblivion.

Before the race began, Frosty Hesson said it’s important to go inside yourself and see what you’re really capable of doing. With no ability to see Pleasure Point approach and no one to talk with, it was time to do that now.

There was no need to feel discouraged. I reminded myself to trust my training. If this was going to be a grind, I was ready. I focused on my paddling mechanics, my breathing, and the sea. There were some bumps to catch if I paid attention. Each ride felt like a small triumph earned. All other ways to distract myself from the work to be done were, quite literally, out of sight and out of reach. I settled in and got myself to the green buoy.

Finally, I could see Pleasure Point. Once there, only about 2½ miles is left. I wasn’t feeling fast, but I was feeling capable and I was still enjoying this paddle.

Meanwhile ...

Reno, laughing while killing.

Paul Wettereau, job well done.

 And now it's my turn ...

On the approach ...

Able to walk and run ...

And done.

Mike McDaniel, strong and over the line.

And in case I took myself too seriously, the first thing anyone said to me after I crossed the finish line was something like: “Could you please move aside, a lot of kids will be coming through soon.”

And in case I thought I had maybe worked even somewhat hard, Joe Bark joined a few other elites to do the the Waterman Challenge: 500m Swim, 1000m Stock Prone Paddleboard and 1500m 12’6″ SUP.

Nick and Jody Bryson.
Nick ate 'em alive and won the stock class on the 2-mile course.

The sun is finally out, at least in Capitola. I’m elated that I have accomplished the paddle and that I’m part of this great event, the 12^th Annual Jay Race. There’s no such thing as just another 12 miles, and there’s no such thing as business as usual when we come to the ocean. And thank God for that!

So, thank you Capitola for welcoming us and permitting us to overrun your beach, and to all the locals who are so genuinely friendly and who contribute everything from smiles to sponsorship, to setup, to raffle prizes, to safety. Total strangers took the time to introduce themselves to me. In Hawai'i, all of this is called "Aloha." This event was so great that Gerry Lopez said he'd be back next year. How good is that?

The after-party rocked, too: great outdoor setup, perfect weather, rockin’ band, great food, loads of time to visit with friends, and a truly well-run awards ceremony. From the groms on up, all honors were well-deserved. If we lived a little closer it would’ve been nice to have stayed for the screening of Chasing Mavericks. But it was time for us to go home, and for me to start dreaming about next year’s 13^th Annual Jay Moriarity Paddleboard Race.