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.

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.

Celebrating 2011

It's been an unforgettable year.

I got into downwind paddling (wish I would have started that years ago!), broke my arm (I sent the skateboard to Sayulita, Mexico), paddled some fun ones -- including another Jay Race, Pier-2-Pier (gotta), Kauai's Na Pali Coast (HUGE thanks to Kanesa) and the Island-2-Island relay (that's Channel Islands -- HUGE thanks to Kathryn). And then there's the endless support I got from DeeAnn!!!!

That just left the Question: How to end an epic paddling season?

Answer: An epic paddle with friends out to Point Lobos, followed by Mike McDaniel’s way-epic Mai Tais and lots of amazing food. Thanks to Mike ("M2") and Mile 22 (check 'em on www.mile22.com and like 'em on Facebook -- there should be a 'way like' button') for getting us together.

A solid south wind was on, so we had to work for it. But when we got close to Point Lobos, we were completely sheltered from the wind. We just hung out there in glass and amazing light. The paddle back to Carmel Beach was a fun downwinder.

Click on any photo to enlarge.

Operation: Occupy Carmel Beach begins

The Preoccupied.

Granite windbreak

Perfect timing over a temporarily submerged rock!

Someone's looking forward to snowboard season!

Absolutely nothing serious.