Thursday, January 21, 2016

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.




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