Jay Race 2015: Year of the Grom

The iconic annual gathering of paddlers at Capitola Beach that is the Jay Race has always been treated by the Santa Cruz locals as a family event. This year, Frosty Hesson proclaimed the 2015 Jay Moriarity Paddleboard race the year of the grom. One look around the crowd suggested he was only stating the obvious.

Yours truly is at the other end of the age continuum, though it could hardly be said the over-50 contenders were in short supply.  Suzanne Riedinger was paddling a brand-spanking-new Bark stock, a present to herself in celebration of her 70^th birthday.

The race itself turned 14, but, if you have paddled this race, you likely agree with me that it never gets old.

Course conditions were glassy, with only minor bumps on what’s normally the downwind leg beginning at the mile buoy.

After the main paddleboard events, obstacle courses for the groms were enthusiastically attended. Kim Moriarity could be seen urging them on. One glimpse convinced me the future is bright indeed.

Here are a few photos – shots on the water were taken by DeeAnn, from Chardonnay II.

Nick Bryson's downward facing dog inspires a yogic moment.

Suzanne Riedinger

Mike McDaniel (foreground)

The "downind" leg. Every bump helps.

Donner Lake: A Paddler's Jewel, Hidden In Plain Sight

The Tahoe Cup is a series of three paddleboard races, open to a variety of arm-powered watercraft. Standup Paddleboards (SUP) is the most popular class, but a few prone paddleboards and still fewer single or double seat outrigger canoes (OC1, OC2) will also appear (OC6’s have even participated in the Tahoe Fall Classic).

The races are: Donner Lake in May (5 miles), Waterman’s Paddle Jam in June (6 miles on Lake Tahoe’s west shore), and the Tahoe Fall Classic in September (22 miles from El Dorado Beach to King’s Beach).

I have only paddled the Fall Classic. Until now.

Mike McDaniel races Donner Lake every year, and I finally decided to join him. As I considered this, his reports of last year’s snowy race conditions were dampening my enthusiasm. But, lightning never strikes twice, right?

Wrong. We arrived on Thursday to forecasts of strong winds and light snow. The winds greeted us and persisted through Friday, until late afternoon.  

The north shore -- of Lake Tahoe.

The Donner Lake webcam was, encouragingly, showing more serene surface conditions. So, although I wasn’t going to get time to acclimate to padding at altitude, it looked as though the race itself was likely going to be okay.

But, nothing stayed the same. On Friday evening, even as McDaniel made his way to Sacramento, those flurries turned to something more ominous. California Department of Transportation closed Interstate 80 in both directions over Donner Pass (elevation 7,239) for a couple of hours, due to heavy snows and high winds. Mike was able to head out quite late, but, thanks to the traffic jam the closure caused, he got to Truckee about an hour later than planned, around midnight.

I had a lesser problem to deal with: my 16 ½-foot Bark unlimited paddleboard’s fin wasn’t tightly attached to the rudder. In other words, I’ve been dealing with a loose fin, unable to either fix the problem myself or quickly obtain a suitable replacement part (through no fault of Joe Bark’s).

Between the cold, snowy weather and the fin problem, I started doubting whether I’d go. I went so far as to text Mike just after 3 a.m., saying I was out.

I woke up without an alarm about 6:30 am. Mike had texted a single word at 6:15 -- “No?”

I thought hard and responded: “Ummmmm …. See you there.”

Mike: Yeah! What were you doing up at 3 AM?

Me: Worrying … NOT. I’m 62, ok?

With that, I was committed. By 7:30 am, the car was loaded and the Bark was secured on its rack.  I was off to Donner Lake.

The view from our room in Tahoe Vista and the drive to Donner Lake could only be described as a winter wonderland. The white blanket was everywhere. Light snow it was not.

I then reminded myself I had spent nearly 25 wonderful years in Minnesota. This was nothing compared to some things I lived through there.  And, I didn’t even think twice about wearing sandals instead of shoes. This paddle was going to be fun, even if odd.

I exited I-80 too early, driving Donner Lake Road the length of the lake from its east end to its west end, to the site of the race start. The water appeared, thankfully, nearly calm.  

I found a parking spot right next to Mike. I pulled on my wetsuit, booties and hood. Then, I went for the gloves. First, I pulled on the right glove. And … oh no, another right glove! Mike and I had a good laugh over that one, and Mike said he’d brought none. So, I gave him my other right glove and joked we were right-handed Michael Jackson impersonators.

The scene in the staging area lit me up. The sun was out, the snow was brilliant and so was the lake’s blue surface.

Phil Segal’s greeting added another dimension of warmth. The volunteers who checked us in and passed us our timing chips were cheery and friendly.

The pre-race meeting was held, we hopped down a short slope into the water, and, even as we started paddling to line up, the horn sounded. So, it was a running start.

Donner Lake is about 2.7 miles long, west to east, and about half-a-mile wide.  The shape of the course is therefore a long rectangle. This day, our course distance was to be 4.7 miles. 

The first long leg featured a light tailwind and small wind waves. The water was warmer than I guessed it would be, so my bare left hand didn’t suffer at all.  The beauty around me increased my enjoyment of being out there.

At the east end of the lake, rounding the buoy on my left shoulder, I turned north into a short crosswind leg. The lead SUPs beat me to the turn.  Observing them gave me a good lesson in how to approach it. There’s always more to be learned.

After the next left turn to the west, into the final long upwind leg, the SUPs again showed me the way, sticking close to the north shore. That line afforded some protection from headwinds.  Despite the wind in my face, that last leg seemed shorter, even though it was just as long as the first leg. Like the horse running home to the barn, you know.

Crossing the finish line was great. But, once on shore, I wished I’d had more time on this beautiful course.

Fun to be on top! (Note the "winter" foot gear I thought to bring.)

One thing I love about paddle races is that everyone cheers on everyone else, and there’s always great interest in exchanging experiences. Some stories come out later. Mike, whom I’ve never seen don neoprene for paddling until this event, commented that he felt like he was wearing “three coats”.

The last paddler arrived. Awards were announced and tendered.  Mike and I headed for our cars, having agreed to a late breakfast in Truckee.

On our way to our cars, Mike thought to ask: “Shall we load the boards?” We had to turn around to go and get them.

Where's Lake Tahoe?

According to Cal Fire's website, the Butte Fire started on September 9, 2015, at 2:26 pm, in Amador & Calaveras Counties, east of Jackson. It consumed 70,868 acres. That tragedy was the backdrop for the 2015 Lake Tahoe Fall Classic.

DeeAnn and I drove to Tahoe Vista on Thursday, September 10. The approach on Interstate 80 was fair enough. We stopped to enjoy the view from the Donner Lake lookout.

[Click on smaller photos to enlarge; hit <esc> to return.]

Donner Lake

But the smoke was already dominating Lake Tahoe's basin. And the water level was lower than we've ever seen it.

I took a few paddles on the days leading up to the race. Mike McDaniel joined me for a paddle through Agate Bay, where Kings Beach lay, the day before the race. Mike brought along his goddaughter for her first Lake Tahoe paddle. We headed out to Brockway Point and admired the enormous granite boulders that were only partially submerged. The sun was out, and the sand below seemed emerald-colored -- or, perhaps more accurately, the more lightly-colored green beryl.

On race morning (September 14), many elected not to show -- wisely. In all past races, mountains to our north served to guide us to the finish line. Not today. Between the dismal lack of visibility and the drained-out shore, it was, to say the least, spooky. The place seemed deserted, remote and foreboding.

Race Director Phil Segal nearly called off the race, but decided to run it with a course change. We would paddle directly north from the start, rather than take the leg west to Tahoe Keys. Phil said the view would get better by the time we were 4 or 5 miles into the race. But it wasn't to be.

Mike McDaniel (right) and author

Shallow walk to the starting line

What the view felt like!

I set my Garmin GPS screen to compass, to hold a course near due north.  Within three miles, I was alone.  I could barely make out the mountains to the east, but no other hints of other shores or mountains were to be seen.

I heard after the race one poor racer promptly turned west and proceeded straight into Emerald Bay.  At least it's pretty over there --  if you can see. A few others were plucked out near the east shore.

Thankfully, conditions were glassy for a good part of the course.  Over an hour into the paddle, a motorboat with a family on board crossed my path, headed east.  It pulled alongside and one of the boaters asked if I was okay. I assured them I had a GPS, nutrition, hydration and some experience, so they sailed on.

Much later on, a jet ski approached. Its rider, a member of our safety crew, asked how I was. I gave the same answer. He shook his head affirmatively, smiled, then advised: "You're on a good line. See those guys way over there (pointing east)? Don't go over there. See you later."

After that, I was alone. Eventually the wind picked up. But instead of the typical southwest wind, it came out of the northwest. First lightly, later building in. The sloppy conditions and the wind direction turned the last third of the race into a slog. Because the conditions kept turning my board towards east, I was constantly correcting my course.

Mike McDaniel was hoping to stay west, but would up paddling on a nearly straight line to Kings Beach.

The surface conditions and the total lack of scenery worked on me.  I was getting tossed about a bit with only about 4 miles to go. It was just enough to cause an unscheduled stop to empty out the contents of my stomach. I've known worse. I knew I would make it, and I wasn't about to just quit.

My jet ski buddy appeared again and said he'd been looking for me. I said I was on the northerly line the whole time. We gave each other a smile and off he went.

When I could finally see the vague outline of the north coast, I thought I could ascertain the mountain leading down towards me, to Brockway Point. I switched my Garmin over to its map function and zoomed in. Brockway Point was right on my nose. That told me I needed to adjust course a little west to point myself at Kings Beach and our finish line.

That last stretch seemed to go on for a long, long time, even though I know full well that, when Kings Beach begins to look close, it isn't.

I was so glad to cross the finish line and so thankful DeeAnn was there to greet me. My distance, according to my GPS, was 21.1 miles.

Me, finishing (and feeling finished).

McDaniel paddled a slightly shorter line, with no GPS to aid him. Other racers estimated they paddled 24-26 miles, including the overall winner, Tahoe local Rand Carter, on his unlimited SUP.

Mike McDaniel, on the approach.

The beach was hardly crowded. But our announcer, Chris Hollingsworth, made it all into great fun. Phil handed out awards, and hardly anyone hung out after that. It just wasn't a beach party kind of day.

Not a beach day

Would I do the race again, even in the same conditions? You bet. But let's hope we never again see a Butte fire.