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| Interstate 5, paddleboard's view. |
The Tahoe Classic is a 22-mile paddle from Camp Richardson on the south shore to Kings Beach on the north.
DeeAnn and I arrived Friday evening. Winds were light. I put in about five easy miles on a round trip between Captain Jon's landing and Brockway Point.
Saturday was spent admiring the lake. Tahoe was in a serene mood. From our north shore location, Camp Richardson (the race's start) can't be seen. It's beyond the horizon for a person standing on the lake's northernmost shore.
Throughout the day, I couldn't help thinking: on Sunday, I'll be out there. The vastness of that is something to contemplate. Lake Tahoe commands great respect. Besides the distance, conditions can change quickly. Then there's the history of the place and its indigenous people.
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| Tahoe's beauty is incomparable in any light. |
At DeeAnn’s request, I brought a second paddleboard, my fourteen-foot Bark, so she could give it a go. It went well. Standing in the shallow water at Captain Jon’s landing, I could supply stability. It occurred to me that the butterfly stroke would be more stable than the crawl stroke, and it was. After a few supported short stretches, we moved to the beach west of Captain Jon’s. It was there that DeeAnn did herself proud. When I first started paddling, I needed to extend my feet out, on either side of the board for stability. DeeAnn needed none of that. As you may already know, I’m so proud of her first paddle. She completed roughly half a mile. But don’t ask when her first race will be. And no, there weren’t any photos.
Saturday night, I went online to make sure I knew the race's start time. One web page I looked at seemed to say 7 a.m. DeeAnn remembered it as being 8 am. But just to be certain, we planned on arriving around 6 a.m.
It turned out DeeAnn was correct. We were one of the first two or three cars in the lot. There was no hint of dawn's first light. I set my phone's alarm, we tilted back our car seats and ... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz'd.
After around 45 minutes, we woke up and got going.
Phil then began checking all of us in.
The morning light and the sunrise are ever-inspiring. The air was warmer than in past years, nearly 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Five years ago was the coldest, under 40 degrees (rising to around 87 degrees by noon).
By the time the sun peeked over the eastern mountains, a kids' class had assembled to practice martial arts on the beach, east of the pier.
As the light grew, so did the parking lot population, filling with paddleboard-laden vehicles. My energy level rose as the number of boards lying on the beach multiplied and Phil's check-in line lengthened.
I always get asked how to line up our destination. I have been miserable at describing this, but Phil always takes care of that. After five years, I finally get it. The mountain to the right of Brockway is crowned by an enormous bald spot. We're aiming for the left end of that. OK, I'm a little slow!
Phil announced it was time for us to paddle out to the start, just off the end of the pier.
A novel feature of this year's experience was a camera mounted on a drone. Phil let us know he would count down and say "go." Before he did, a siren similar to the Catalina Classic's sounded and a few racers went. Phil quickly pulled them back. What is it with the false starts this year (we had one at Catalina)?????
Within the first few miles, the entire field went pretty far east, except for me. I went slightly west. I felt good going out and was holding a good position. The thought crept into my mind that maybe this would be my day. Maybe. I just took it as a fun thought, nothing to get stressed over.
Halfway through the course, I started gently angling east. I knew this posed a risk, as a southwest wind was predicted. But I like to approach the King's Beach finish from Brockway Point (slightly east) and let the current carry me west. As I crossed the lake from slightly west to slightly east, the rest of the field did the opposite, probably in anticipation of that southwest wind. I wasn't convinced.
It was around the middle of the paddle when I realized I was greatly enjoying this paddle on this day in this place. Although it certainly was a stunning, sunny Lake Tahoe day, I can't say why my sense of enjoyment was so high. But when I became aware of my feeling that this day, this paddle, was special, I set my goal: to enjoy the rest of this paddle so much that when I got to the end, I would want more. What I did not do was slow down in an effort to meet that goal. The pace felt challenging but sustainable. Speed is fun.
Well past three hours into the race, a coast guard boat approached from the rear. I was asked if I was heading straight to shore. I said yes, I was headed straight to King's Beach. I was told that was good, as high winds were expected before long. It occurred to me these guys had no idea what the Davenport Downwinder was all about! A 25- to 30-knot tailwind would have been more than I could've hoped for! I held my tongue. Had the wind started to build gradually, I would have crossed back to the west. But all remained calm and glassy.
However, just as I approached Brockway Point, that southwest wind machine suddenly switched on. There was nothing gradual about its appearance. It came on moderately strong from the beginning. I was within my last two miles.
The finish was a giant red inflatable archway planted around the midpoint of the beach. Because the wind was blowing southwest to northeast, I now had the risk that I would get pushed into the east corner of Kings Beach, nowhere near the finish. To compensate, I paddled crosswind until I was west of the archway, and the archway was downwind. When it was, I allowed the windswell to nudge my board into a right turn. I started catching fun bumps, riding the windswell "downhill" straight towards the finish. I was soon to turn my board over to the young kids providing caddy service.
I achieved my goal of wishing there had been more, and I had kept my pace steady. I approached the finish happy.
On my approach, I began to hear the announcer. He was saying, here comes a prone paddler, pointing out this was where it all started (SUP's popularity came along much more recently). It was a joy to hear my chosen sport spotlighted like that.
Then, just before I stood up to wade to shore, came a surprise. It was announced that I was the first prone paddler to cross the finish line. They also announced my age. I wondered, where were the fast guys? Then I realized, hey it IS my day. Drop all other thoughts and just party about that!
Mike McDaniel and Lisa Ortiz were there with DeeAnn to turn it into a real celebration. Mike had just completed hosting the first SUP with Nicole adventure on this lake (http://www.supwithnicole.com/), a mere two weeks after Lisa and Mike celebrated their marriage at Bernardus Lodge. Mike intended to race SUP, but, unfortunately, was unable to secure an acceptable racing board.
Total strangers were eager to shake my hand and congratulate me. It was such a thrill and so much fun to get to be "the guy" that day. I have no illusions: there are faster. But there's also no denying: it really was my day. What made me happiest was knowing that I got to be the carrier of a message about the irrelevancy of age.
And yes, it was very nice to accept that trophy - it will always serve as a reminder of how special Tahoe has been to me in each of the Tahoe races I have been in.
Back at Holiday House, our hostess, Alvina, was beside herself with joy over the news. After all, she knows how it feels. It's nice to have become a member of her club.
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| See you next year! |
