Lake Tahoe Classic 2014 Relocates Starting Line

September 24, 2014, Lake Tahoe, California and Nevada.

"Zach! How ya feelin' this morning?" I asked this question in Lake Tahoe's dawn chill. Zach's response, delivered with a grin, was to the point: he'd been up all night. 

Dawn over South Tahoe's El Dorado Beach

(Click on photos to enlarge, hit <esc> key to return)

It was refreshing to have strong representation from Santa Cruz. But the race was an afterthought. Craig Waltz's bachelor party had been held in Tahoe City the night before the race. Why not combine that with a 22-mile race the next morning? All-nighter notwithstanding, I knew what to expect. I had done well in previous races here. That was clearly about to change, and I was actually stoked to watch it unfold.

The presence of Santa Cruz Ghostryders wasn't the only change from past Tahoe Classics. All previous races started from the South Shore's Camp Richardson and ended at the North Shore's Kings Beach (that course was actually 21 miles, though advertised as 22). This year's starting line moved to South Tahoe's El Dorado Beach.  The new course would have been even shorter, had the course's first leg not been directed westbound to a buoy near Tahoe Keys. It turned out to be 22.5 miles.

We were greeted at dawn by pure glass. Cold air survived sunrise, at least for a while. Predictions were for strong south-southwest winds by noon. 

A challenge for new racers is the impossibility of seeing Kings Beach from the starting line. Earth's curvature causes two six-foot persons to disappear from each others' site when 18 miles apart.  For that reason, you have no chance of spotting Kings Beach until you're well beyond the halfway point.

It's important to know what to look for in order to aim for Kings Beach, especially because the first leg of the race (as reconfigured this year) runs west, not north.

To get a sense of the view, log on to Google Maps, select "Earth" view, and play around with the tilt feature.  Here's a screenshot:

In the above Google Maps screenshot, King's Beach is all the way to the left. Crystal Bay is all the way to the right. Brockway Point is near the center, just above the word, "Google". A ridge runs up the mountain from Brockway Point (there are two light brown spots as you look up that ridge). Look above that, to the highest ridge visible along the sky (ignoring the mountain peaks in the far background). To the right, above Crystal Bay, is a large brown region (in various shades). The left end of the darker part of the brown region is your marker from the south side of the lake.

On the approach to Kings Beach, a red tile roof will appear. That's the community center, and it's at the left end of the beach. The race's finish is somewhere to the right of that.

Me, Mike McDaniel: ready.

For this year's race, two buoys marked the starting line, about a quarter mile offshore. It was shallow enough on the way out that we had to carry our boards most of the way, so it was important to head out as soon as it was announced we'd be starting soon.

Getting off the starting line, I was eager to put my new Bark 16' 6" unlimited through its paces. As we headed for Tahoe Keys, I caught up with a couple of Santa Cruz friends. But after we turned north, it wasn't long before it was just me and the lake.

Lake Tahoe isn't a technical paddle. It's just long and requires focus that matches that length. Towards the end, there's a current running west around Brockway Point, so it's best to be vigilant about not winding up too far west -- unless the southwest wind comes up. But being too far east can make it difficult to overcome a current that runs into Crystal Bay. All that means minding your line in the last third of the race.

While I always work for the best performance I can muster, I also am mindful of how much I look forward each year to being on this very special (some say sacred) lake. That mindset focuses me on what's around me in the present. This day, blindingly brilliant white clouds dappled the sky. The effect on the lake's surface was an ongoing dynamic dance of that pure white upon the lake's blue surface, a paisley pattern in motion.  The colors and texture of the sky, the lake, the trees and the granite peaks were mesmerizing, enchanting, majestic.

I stayed slightly west, anticipating the predicted strong southwest wind. While the lake's surface was still glass, a water patrol boat approached me, manned by two official-looking gents. One asked if I was heading straight to shore. My impulse was to quip that my race result depended on that, but I just said, "Yes." "Good" was the response, followed by, "Strong winds are expected" in a warning tone. My next thought, which I didn't say out loud, was: BRING IT ON!!!! Clearly, these folks had never heard of the Davenport Downwinder.

Near the end, although not soon enough for my taste, the wind kicked in abruptly, like a switch had been thrown. I had positioned myself just west of Kings Beach and now got to surf my way home.

DeeAnn, four of my cousins and our neighbors from Carmel greeted me as I crossed the finish mat.  This new course had taken me 4:54:37 to complete. San Diego's Todd Robinson won it in 3:55:42. Second was Santa Cruz's Mike Dilloughery (4:21:59), followed by Groom-To-Be Craig Waltz (4:25:46). All three finished before the wind kicked up, so they actually paddled that fast!

My good friend and training partner Mike McDaniel got caught too far east. He won a lengthy battle to get to the inside of Brockway Point and then to the finish. The wind was so strong that some standup paddlers were going to their knees, or even going prone to finish, in spite of the fact it was a tailwind.

We didn't stay long on the beach - it was that windy. The sky was also turning a very strange pinkish-grey in the southwest. It turned out that was caused by smoke carried in on the southwest winds from the massive King Fire. That tragedy ultimately caused extensive damage and also cancelled Lake Tahoe's Iron Man. I was thankful we weren't inhaling that smoke during the race.

When we arrived at our Holiday House base, the visible effects of the fire had greatly intensified. 

View from Holiday House of smoke spreading over Lake Tahoe

Our hostess and owner of The Holiday House, Alvina Patterson, informed us that the wind was so high that a boat capsized in front of Captain Jon's (just to our west). I grabbed my board, paddled out, and took a few photos. The next morning we watched a crew right the boat. Hopefully, it was restored after that.

In the end, it was another great year that had its own unique way of unfolding. That included the fun of visiting with my cousins and introducing them to some of Tahoe's many wonders. But the sadness of the fire lingered, a reminder of how precious Tahoe is.

13th Annual Surftech Jay Moriarity Paddleboard Race (June 2014)

The annual race celebrating the positive and formidable force that is Jay Moriarity continues to grow in size, yet remain fresh. And on this day, the Jay Race entered its teen years.   Regardless of whether you knew Jay “then”, this event can be relied upon to breathe life into his legacy, so you can know something of what Jay has become now.

This always gets me off to a good start: I love getting to Capitola beach early and watching everything come together. The event structures go up (including a kids' obstacle course), paddleboard-laden cars roll in, and paddlers stake out beach real estate.  Eventually, walking a straight line on the beach becomes impossible - the place is littered with boards and "encampments". Amid all this, everyone prepares for the day’s race events and begin connecting with each other.

[Click on photos to enlarge, hit <esc> to return] 

Where it all begins and ends

My good friend and paddling partner, Mike McDaniel (aka "M2"), and me (aka "M1")

Capitola color in morning light

Arrivals

DeeAnn (my wife) decided to view this year’s race from the water by going out on Chardonnay II, the lead boat for the stand-up paddleboard division of the long course (proceeds go to the Santa Cruz Junior Lifeguard Program).  So, after dropping off Mike McDaniel and me at the beach to set up, she headed off for the harbor. 

Meanwhile, Mike and I went to work setting up his Mile 22 beach canopy, our hang-out for the day.

After that, we checked in, picking up our goodie bags, Jay Race T-shirts and race jerseys. Next was submitting to someone marking our race numbers on various body parts and taking our assigned race chips to wrap around our ankles. Then we prepped our prone boards and said “hi” to many friends and friends whose names I just haven’t yet learned (this can take awhile – names aren’t a strong suit). I hadn’t seen Nick Bryson and family in some time. Nick paddled the short course with son Drew (this was Drew’s inaugural appearance at age 9). I made two new friends earlier this year as I sold off both my paddleboards, and both of the new owners were about to put their new acquisitions to the test.

From the "other end" of Monterey Bay, Bill Jones, Paul Wetterau and Shane Scoggins (2^nd place men’s stock, ages 18-49) showed for this year’s race, in addition to Mike and me. But we missed Monterey homie Mike Roberts (aka "M3"). 

My new Bark 14-foot paddleboard needed a Jay sticker, and Kim Moriarity was kind enough to supply it. That was my excuse to have a chat. Somehow she always has a moment for everyone. Kim’s very bright light illuminates just about every aspect of this day.

This year’s dedication ceremony began with beautiful Hawaiian mele. And Frosty Hesson’s remarks are always a great way to set the tone for all that comes next. Frosty revealed that he lets what he’s about to say come to him on the spot. This year it was about each of us learning to  and appreciate our unique aspects. Frosty used himself as an example. Perceived weaknesses, when examined closely and appreciated properly transform into strengths. For example, Frosty said he has a short attention span. He suggested, instead of buying into social convention that views that as a weakness, learn to appreciate it and use it to best advantage.  It’s a great lesson to keep in mind every day.   

It was announced this year’s race was dedicated to Robin "Zeuf" Janiszeufski Hesson (1959 – 2013), the first woman to have paddleboarded across Monterey Bay.

The 12-mile course (my challenge of choice) was evenly split between 88 paddleboards and 88 stand-up paddleboards (176 total). Ages ranged from 13-year-old Kali‘a Alexiou (SUP) to 69-year-old Suzanne Riedlinger (Paddleboard). Suzanne was sporting a new Bark model because, as she put it, she deserved a new paddleboard before reaching age 70. So, it looks like she's not planning to let up any time soon! Then there were the short course and the kids’ events, where there were even younger contestants. Finally, the Waterman’s Challenge was offered to the tireless. That challenge is described on the Race’s web page as: “Swim, Stock Prone Paddleboard and SUP – all three events are combined to determine the top male and female over-all waterman!”

Between the opening ceremony and the race’s start, I was able to squeeze in a short warm-up paddle. There was just enough time to get back to the beach and line up. This year I felt confident, free of the anxiety that regularly creeps over me at the start. Although it was partly sunny when we arrived in Capitola, by race time it had clouded over and there was some haze. That brought to mind last year’s fog-induced delay. But today it was announced the harbor patrol cleared us for an on-time start.

So, off we went, churning water and jockeying for position.

Mike McDaniel (blue board), followed by Suzanne Riedlinger

Matt Becker, rounding the first buoy

Paul Wetterau, digging

Joe Bark

This year, I decided to try something new: sticking with other paddlers. This keeps me in moving water, which trumps my long-time misguided notion I never seemed to shake until now: that I can get ahead by finding my own line. Truth is: I’ve never been that good at reading the water.  

Eventually, I became part of a paddling chain – an enormous advantage. The two leaders were taking turns at the front. I offered to take my turn, but wasn’t taken seriously (too bad for them!!) Chardonnay II caught up with us before we reached the Municipal pier, and DeeAnn was able to capture some nice photos.

Rounding the Mile Buoy - Carter Graves giving chase

Reaching the Mile Buoy means the race is half over and that it’s time to catch bumps. Most years, it has been a downwind leg. This year there was no wind, but there were some bumps anyway. The paddling chain broke as we each focused on hunting down runners. Two of the other paddlers I had been with were further out to sea, and were going about my speed.  As we approached the final turn, I figured I had the inside line. But both got in front of me and I never caught them. As a result, I came in right behind Jeff Denholm.

As I crossed the finish, I remembered to pull my timing chip off of my left leg. But it was missing. Note to self for future races: slip the wetsuit cuff over the timing chip.

I immediately notified the race official standing at the finish line, and was assigned an estimated time: 2 hours, 22 minutes – good enough to claim 2^nd fourteen, age class 50 and over.

Then came a minor shock. I talked with another race official who informed me I owed $30 for the missing race chip.

In running (for example, the big Sur Half Marathon), a $30 replacement charge is standard, and each contestant is given written notice of that consequence before the race.  The Jay Race gave no such notice. And this is the ocean, after all – she can rip off just about anything, or so I argued.

After a little cooling off and a little reflection, I realized the most important thing to me was to keep it positive at the Jay Race. These folks deserve my support, not my excuses. I paid the $30. Cash. What I got in return was more appreciation that I had any right to expect.

Here’s the headline news from this year’s Jay Race: Santa Cruz local Aaron McKinnon put the world on notice by blowing away the paddleboard field, winning in 1:49:01. It’s nice to have the trophy in the hands of a homey. He’ll be one to watch at this year’s Catalina Classic.

The after-party was packed, as in sold out. Mike and Lisa elected to skip the meal and head up to the Crow’s Nest. As I stood gazing in some direction I now can’t recall, I got tapped on the shoulder by a good friend I hadn’t yet had a chance to say “hi” to. And so, a great day got even better.

Thanks to all who made this special day possible, and thanks to the people of Capitola for allowing us to overrun your beautiful beach (and parking). 

The future looks bright indeed

 

5th Annual Davenport Downwinder (May 2014)

Huge stretches of California’s spectacular coastline can’t be seen from the road. Much of Central California’s Wilder Coast falls into that category. But hop onto an ocean-going vessel and Wilder Coast’s glory stands in full view. Of course, being on the ocean, she makes the call about what that experience is like. Mother Ocean, in all her elements, was in a particularly playful mood on this day.

The mood on Davenport Landing’s beach was pretty good, too. Ghostryders Santa Cruz organizes this race to help put wind in the sails of Junior Lifeguards. Their largest Davenport race to date was about to break all previous records for delivering the goods. This event is fast becoming a premiere downwinder, rivaling any. And the vibe is at once mellow and all about the fun.

Ghostryders' central office for the day

Readying for battle. Friendly battle, but battle nonetheless

John Alexiou and daughter Kali'a conferring about the line.
Kali'a killed it in the 14-foot SUP Women's class

No matter who you are or what you may do to fund your lifestyle, you’re only one thing here: a paddler. All equal. All facing the same challenge. All smiling about all of that.

Today, the challenge is 14 miles in 20-knot winds whipping the ocean into rideable wind waves punctuated by occasional cotton balls. Leashes are highly recommended. There were a few hair-raising lost paddleboard stories that appeared on the internet in the last few months. It happens before there’s time to react. And on the Wilder Coast, there’s no “civilization” to swim to.

Friend and training partner Mike McDaniel signed his company, Mile 22, on as a sponsor. Mike generously invited me to go up with him. I trust Mike's Fat Straps for the best transport hold, with no pressure marks.  

Mile 22 Debut

It was a bit odd knowing Mike wouldn’t be in the water. Also missing was Mike Roberts, who got called to the San Diego fires. Shane Scoggins was at work. So, I was the lone Carmel-Monterey paddler (that I know of). They weren’t the only Davenport regulars in absence: Joe Beek, Joe & Jack Bark, we missed you, too.

As the starting time approached, I exhibited my usual touches of disorganization. I almost forgot to tape gels on the board. And Mike thoughtfully offered me my two water bottles. I scanned the starting line for paddleboards, spotted a group of them and inserted mine – it’s not fun to go out among SUPs waving and thrashing oars about.

Today, I was paddling a sparkling, brand-new Bark custom14-foot CT. In the two weeks prior, I was hoping to try it in downwind conditions, but that didn’t happen. On this day, it performed remarkably well. I’m already calling it a magic board.

Due to the conditions, as well as to the board, I spent less time paddling and more time riding bumps. The great paddlers connect the bumps, levering from one wave to another. When connecting happens to me, it’s not entirely intentional, but it’s a thrill every time. There were lined-up northwest swells that tend to take paddlers towards shore, and there were waves reflecting off the shore heading back outside. That made an easy job of staying outside the kelp.  And it all lined up even better near the end.

Everyone spreads out quickly. That makes it difficult to know where you are in the pack. It also means if there’s trouble, you’re likely on your own. Although the conditions were the best I’ve seen, I still got pitched off my board four or five times. The first spill was early in the race. I lost a water bottle. I had only filled the second bottle halfway, and now I was just going to have to make do with that. Each time I came unglued, I was able to keep both hands on the board. The wind immediately turned the board broadside to the swell and, now blowing crossbeam, wanted to blow the board over.  But I managed never to lose contact with the board, keeping recovery time to a minimum.

Paul Ban caught up to me in the second half of the course. I was glad to have his company, but with earplugs covered by my neoprene hoodie, I couldn’t hear everything he was saying.

As busy as I was out there, I had the presence of mind to take in the coastline. The light was perfect, the view entirely inspiring. I took no camera because I was hoping to have my best course time in these great conditions (I did).

I was surprised at how fast it felt like I got to the last part of the course, even with all the bumps I racked up.  Natural Bridges came into view, then the West side, then the lighthouse. The bumps followed us around the land’s bend eastward, not flattening until Steamer Lane.  I had plenty of gas in the tank to get around the Municipal Pier and take the final stretch.

Coming home. This day marked the 90th "birthday" of Santa Cruz Boardwalk's Giant Dipper
(the roller coaster, top of photo) Photo: John Bostwick

There were loads of boards on the beach ahead of me, but I had both my best result and the best time I’ve ever had at this event (my third). And here's my favorite results posting ever: my age was listed as "60 going on 50".

After hanging on the beach, Mike, John Bostwick and I headed up to the wharf. I loaded my paddleboard, John drove off, and Mike headed for the Ideal Bar & Grill. Before I caught up with Mike, I witnessed a scene that could only happen in Santa Cruz (or maybe Redondo Beach):

 It was very temporary parking. The owner swooped up his ride shortly after I snapped the shot.

The after party was like a homecoming to all. Of the races I have ever gone to, this one reliably features constant conversation at lofty decibel levels lasting for hours. So much so, that Zack Wourmhoudt always has a tough time getting the awards announced.  

Friendly pandemonium

I’m going to remember and savor this one for a long time to come.

I Wasn't Going to Do This Race

The 2014 Surftech SUP Shootout featured the Duel SUP Race. I had work to do. Conditions were not looking good. Rain and slop were on tap. I had barely started training this year. I'm 60, I don't need this s**t. I had sold my fourteen-foot paddleboard. The 17 ½-foot board wasn’t right for the conditions.  The race is a SUP-fest. What do they want with prone paddlers, anyway? Are they even allowing anything besides stock boards?

But then I called Joe Bark about a new board. Joe brought up the race. Joe said go. I went.

Blessed rain had been falling on California, and it wasn’t going to miss Santa Cruz on race day. I decided it was high time to become better friends with a little rain and wind. Time to get serious about paddling in whatever the conditions might be. It was windy from early morning on, only with no real promise of a downwinder. It was gray. It was chop from several directions. Oh, and just to make it interesting (read: to piss us off), they included a quarter-mile beach run at the end of each of the course’s two laps. Under the pier. Watch your head. I’m 6’ 3”. Damn right, watch your head.

It was a blast.

Standing in line to check in, I found myself right next to John Alexiou, and Kali’a Alexiou, already a formidable competitor in her father’s footseps at such a young age. Signing in was pure friendly banter. Note for prone paddlers: when the jersey is designed for SUP, take the next size (or two) down. Otherwise, you’re going to hate all that material. Normally a large, I took a small. It was perfect.

Down the beach was that affable and striking young streak of lightning, Jack Bark. Jack was fresh off the Date with the Straight, about a 120-mile paddle from Australia through the Bass Straight to Tasmania Jack shared with fellow Moloka‘i -2-O‘ahu champions Zeb Walsh and Brad Gaul. But perhaps “fresh” isn’t exactly the right word. “Seasoned” or even “steeled” might be better choices.

Familiar faces helped warm me to the race. Thanks, Paul Ban, just for showing up.

Here's the course map:

 

 Here's what conditions looked like (taken from the wharf):

Paddling out to the end of the wharf, two things impressed me. The first was just how sloppy it really was. The second was how fast Jack went out. He was out in front of the SUPs, at least for a while (he finished first prone, third overall).

The challenging parts of the race were the paddle from the beach, out to the pier’s end, out to the buoy beyond the pier, and back to the pier. The best parts of the race were the trip into the beach along the Muni pier and the second lap's leg from Steamer Lane to the bouy beyond the pier. There were bumps to be caught.

The runs were just fine. I had no big ambitions here, so I went easy on that. Until the end. Paul Ban was not too far ahead of me. I picked up the pace, but never got close to him.

After I finished, I looked around for Joe Bark. He was standing at the shoreline, caddying boards and cheering on finishers. 

One of my fellow paddlers asked if I was that guy who has the blog. That stoked me out, too. I’ve gotten that question at a few races now. It’s a good feeling to know that anyone benefits from my stories. I love blogging because it makes it easy to relive so many great moments.

After nearly all the boards and their paddlers cleared off the beach, I grabbed my Bark 17-6 and headed for my parking spot on the wharf near the lifeguard headquarters. From there, I could see all of the temporary structures on the beach being taken down and the race organizers and volunteers leaving. In light rain, I packed and left with great memories and a little more willingness to go on the tough days.

Where I drove next was up to the setup for the surfing competition, where I visited some other friends before driving back to Carmel.

Thanks, Surftech, for an awesome day. We’re all a little richer because of your support and sponsorship.

Tahoe Classic 2013

After getting sternly schooled at this year's Catalina Classic, I turned my attention to my fifth Tahoe Classic.

Interstate 5, paddleboard's view.

For the fourth year in a row, we booked our room at the Holiday House in Tahoe Vista (tahoeholidayhouse.com), owned and operated by Alvina Patterson. To say Alvina is delightful would fall short of the mark. A German immigrant with a colorful background, she's among the most positive and interesting people DeeAnn and I have met. And she has enough alpine skiing trophies to turn nearly any aspiring competitor green with envy. You may have heard of her son. His name is Chuck. Yeah, THAT Chuck Patterson. (No, we haven't met.)

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.

Tahoe's beauty is incomparable in any light.

Also on Saturday, I readied my trusty 17' 6" Bark for battle. I always wax the bottom of my board. I have no idea if it helps. Go ahead, laugh, but the finish looks so ... well ... shiny, that it makes the board look new. What paddler wouldn't love a new paddleboard, after all? That look also inspires confidence. Alvina commented, admiringly: "It looks like a piano!"

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.

Few were around yet, but I ran into race organizer Phil Segal, who was already busy with the morning set up.

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.

As DeeAnn and I looked around the beach on "our" side of the pier, it was apparent that both the prone and stand-up paddleboard fields were smaller this year compared to last year. Through last year, the SUP number had been steadily rising. It turned out there were at least six events in California that weekend including the Tahoe Classic, which no doubt thinned the field at all of them. Frankly, I like the smaller feel.

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.

See you next year!