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

 

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.

How to Turn the 5-Mile Pier-2-Pier Into 27

The annual Pier-2-Pier (Santa Cruz to Capitola) is an event I can't bring myself to miss. But if I was going to do it, I somehow had to turn it to the purpose of training for the Catalina Classic - a 32-mile race I have registered for but have not yet been accepted into. I was slated for 27.

The Pier-2-Pier has accurately been called the un-race. No fee, no tee, no awards, just paddle. It's much a social event as it is anything else - the vibe is the best anywhere. I figured on going out slow and backing off.

The first step was to begin my day at 6 am, in Capitola, where the race ends, and paddle the five miles up to the race's start at the Santa Cruz Municipal Pier.

The drive up from Carmel began just after 5am. It was mostly clear, but I could see fog over the middle of Monterey Bay. When I got to Capitola, I was greeted with morning magic.

I got in the water just after 6:30 and headed west (Santa Cruz and Capitola face south).

On my paddle through morning glass, I was surprised at how much open water there was between the Capitola pier and Pleasure Point. Especially since it was a nearly zero tide. The waves were down, and the tide would rise a foot higher by the time the racers were going to come through, so this route was definitely preferable to taking the longer line outside the kelp.

After passing Pleasure Point, on my way to the Santa Cruz Harbor, I saw some dolphins. Their size surprised me. I almost got a picture – that disturbance in the water in the photo below is where the dolphins were.

 

I stopped to talk to two other paddlers (a prone and a SUP), and tried to sell them on coming to the race. I pointed out there’s no cost, and it’s all about the fun. Many paddlers aren’t really there to compete.  Really. Then I realized they might not paddle fast enough to get to the starting line on time. Then I realized I wasn’t exactly going to be really early and got going, leaving my new-found friends to paddle on their own.

I arrived just after 7:40, and here’s the scene as I emerged from the water:

I was hardly late. Easily half the field arrived after I signed up.

This event happens because a magnet shows up in the form of David King. If you don't immediately take a liking to Dave, you should have your pulse checked.

Also on the beach was Phil Curtis, just back from a two-year Peace Corps stint. This was going to be his first paddle anywhere near five miles for over two years. He was beaming. 

Before the paddle can begin, it's traditional to pose for this picture:

... and Dave has to discuss conditions, etc. The previous day, a shark had been sighted in the New Brighton Beach area. Any questions? No? Let's get in the water.

 And sure enough, right by the pier, another shark sighting:

 But it was only a sand shark.

OK, I'm always down for a bad joke.

So, we got in the water:

It seemed a more or less even split between prone paddlers and stand-ups. I started out a little fast, but did back off to a pace I thought I could hold onto while not sabotaging the 17 miles that would follow the race. The fog moved in. I followed the coast all the way to Pleasure Point, which added some distance, but at least I knew where I was. Once around the point,  visibility improved.

I got to the beach in Capitola just inside one hour, and in time to catch a still-smiling Phil emerging from his paddle:

My plan was to hang out on the beach and talk to friends until all the paddlers arrived, then find someone who was going to paddle back to Santa Cruz. This has always happened, but today, I couldn't find a single one.  So, I headed to my car, re-filled my water bottle, and headed west.

The next seventeen miles took me back to Pleasure Point and beyond. On the way to Pleasure Point, I saw a paddler in front of me and soon realized the paddler was going my direction. A surfer in the lineup joked that the paddler in front of me wasn't in the race, so I would win. I caught up and said "Hi." It was Suzanne, a long-time paddler and resident, whom I often see on my paddles from New Brighton Beach. Suzanne is good company, and this paddle was a good chance to catch up - we stuck together, talking until we got to the harbor, where she turned back and I went on.

The sun came out, and the northwest wind picked up. When I got back to the lane, I decided to paddle back inside to Cowell's Beach and follow the shoreline back to Pleasure Point to maximize distance.

Bad decision. Had I gone on a straight line (or out to the mile buoy), I would have had nice downwind run. The line I took led me into crosswind chop and backwash from the shoreline. It was the opposite of that smooth glass I had so enjoyed earlier. But it's all good training -- you never know what race day will be like.

Paddling all the way to New Brighton Beach, I was still short some distance. I took one last trip most of the way to Pleasure Point. By now, some surfers were out in just boardshorts. it was that warm in the sun.

I completed the 27 miles. It was tempting to hang out in Capitola. There were lots of people, and the town was preparing for the Wharf-to-Wharf run, to be held the following day. But I had a nice sandwich DeeAnn had prepared for me and a long drive back. A drive made longer by an inch-by-inch traffic jam from south of Watsonville to south of Moss Landing. What had been a 50-minute drive up turned into a 90 minute crawl back.

I could have paddled home faster than that! Or maybe not.

11th Annual Jay Race (2012)

I'm still a relative newcomer to Paddleboarding. My first Jay race was five years ago, in 2008, when I was "just 54." I'm slowly getting to know some people in the paddling community, and that in spite of being exceptionally slow with names. Those connections make me look forward to the races for an entirely non-racing reason. There are exceptional people in this sport. There are others with whom I haven't had the chance to talk much, but still light me up on sight. Then there's the one I never met in person: Jay Moriarity. But thanks to this race that bears his name and the front-and-center group of his closest (starting with Kim Moriarity), his positive influence not only lives, but grows and expands in all of us. And all of us are all ages.

It's a well-run race that attracts a huge field of paddling talent. It's a gathering of muscle and heart you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else, and it takes in all ages. This year, the genders in the races balanced like never before. And it's also the most family-oriented major competition in paddling, guaranteeing at once the future of the sport and the future of the city's junior lifeguards program (contest proceeds support that program). Individual accomplishment and personal connections go hand in glove. Not unlike the legendary relationship between Jay and Frosty. Or Jay and Kim.

While the race has a rep for being among the best organized, I was anything but. I barely left myself a moment to say 'hi' to anyone as I went about preparing.  But I got my board prepped and myself stretched in time to get out for warmup paddle. Visiting was going to have to wait until post race.

The organizers made one little mistake: they thought it would be okay with all of us (in the 12-mile prone race) to stay on the beach for a picture, then paddle out and more or less immediately start the race. They were wrong.

I was already in the water before this plan was announced. I was really happy to have gotten safely out, past that south swell, I fully intended to loosen up, and I was not about to head back in for any photo op at that point.

Comically, as the announcement was repeated over and over, more and more of us got in the water. Finally, sensibly, they reconciled to the inevitable and gave up on that!

Thus, the 12-mile prone paddleboard race began promptly at 8:30 AM.

If you were a spectator on Capitola beach and all you saw was the race's start and finish, then all you saw was smooth glass punctuated by a decent south swell. But as we in the race approached Pleasure Point, headwinds became a factor.

Paddling upwind means negotiating chop. It's not uncommon to train by first paddling upwind for resistance training and then turning downwind for a fun finish to the workout. That approach came in handy now.

Then there was that pesky current by the Santa Cruz Municipal Pier that wanted to carry us out to sea, challenging us to make the next buoy that marked our turn beyond the pier.  The leg after the turn runs crosswind, as we make our way out the "Mile Buoy" (located about a mile outside of Santa Cruz Harbor). The wind kicked up even more, making it with fairly challenging crosswind leg.

Once at the Mile Bouy, and having been greeted by a local pack of vocal seals whose residence appears to be said buoy, the real fun began: a very nice downwind run to surf our way back to Pleasure Point. There were plenty of bumps to catch and surf, and the bumps were lined up, speeding us back towards Capitola.

The race ended as it began, in glass, but you were aware that south swell could send you over the falls at the end. Unlike last year (when I got smashed on the way in), I got lucky this year.

It was fun training for it, it was fun anticipating it, it was way fun actually being out there, and it was way, way fun hanging with everyone after it was over  - beginnning with my usual training partners (Mike "M2" McDaniel (trained less but bested his last year's performance), Mike "M3"Roberts, Paul Wetterau (trains a little and kicks butt anyway), and Nick Bryson.

At the end of the day ... was a party. And some awards were passed out, too.

In the Fourteen Foot prone class, Joe Beek came in first, Reno Caldwell got second, and I got third. It felt just amazing to be in their company.

Kim took the time to stand with each group of winners and pose for a picture. She is the queen of the contest and she is quick to light up every one of us. Long may she reign!

And to DeeAnn, thanks, with all my heart. This was very special year indeed.

Quick 'hi' to Josh on the way out.

Mike McDaniel board check, Mike Roberts, supplicant.

Good year, gender balance progress was substantial.

Paul Wetterau marches to the battlefield.

Mike McDaniel, smiling about the pain sure to follow.

Mike Eaton, meet Joe Bark, Joe, meet Mike.

We all decided to get out there, even as the call for a group photo fell on deaf ears.

.

Jarrett Winter (foreground), Paul Wetterau (with green board), and others.

The prone paddleboard field: over 50

Jamie Mitchell, 1st SUP.

This year, I caught a nice one in. For once!

And I was able to find my feet (in past years, not so much)...

... and actually run to my finish. Since Mike Roberts could not assist (he came in way ahead)!

Nick Bryson, finishing strong.

Mike McDaniel, 10 minutes ahead of last year.

With Nick Bryson.

Thanks, Jody Roberts and DeeAnn for photos!