Course Adjustment: Sixth Annual West Cliff Challenge

 
I was stoked to be doing this year's race with Mike McDaniel and our friends from Santa Cruz. It's a small race, less than 20 this year, in a stunning venue that offers both challenges and fun.

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September in Santa Cruz can bring on just about any conditions, from glass to whipped-up seas to solid waves. This year, a solid south swell stripped Mitchell's Cove of sand and also made the location too treacherous.

 It was decided to start and finish the race at Collins Cove (next to Cowell Beach), as well as to eliminate the leg that rounds the Coast Guard Buoy outside of the San Lorenzo river. The course, as revised, was: paddle from Collins Cove to the buoy outside of Natural Bridges State Beach, taking the buoy on the left shoulder, then back to Collins Cove.

We were treated to moderate northwest winds for our 1 pm (+) start. Although the winds were light inside the cove, a puff of wind blew off my cap shortly into the race. That wasn't just any cap, it was a red Bryson Burns Construction cap given to me by Nick Bryson. It's been protecting the Jones noggin for several years, from Jay Races, to Catalina Classics, to Davenport Downwinders (3) and even Kauai's very breezy Napali Coast.

Paddlers needed to make a choice of line from Seal Rock (just outside of Steamer Lane) to Natural Bridges. Kelp beds offered shelter from headwinds and chop, but at the risk of taking a set wave on the head.

Aaron McKennon took the outside line and I took my cue from him. Aaron's feet just got smaller and smaller as the race progressed. Once past Steamer lane, the wind picked up. It was all upwind to Natural Bridges. But on the way back, it was all bumps. And my Bark 14-footer loves bumps.

After rounding Seal Rock, a choice had to be made: whether to take a like close to the cliffs, risking a clean-up set from the south swell, or swing wide of the lane. I chose the latter, missing an opportunity to surf an open face into Cowell's.

Mike McDaniel finishes

What fun. I loved the course, the day, and all my paddling friends.  I would gladly have taken two laps. 

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.

The Journey, Not the Destination

It’s 3:45 am. Our car is loaded. Both of my Bark paddleboards were lashed on last night. After the alarm goes off, I do easy yoga-based stretches, eat a light breakfast, fix coffee for DeeAnn, and we’re on the road shortly after 4. We drive to Monterey to meet Paul, who shows up only about a minute after we do. Paul had to work last night and has had little sleep. We all say ‘hi’, Paul crawls into the back seat of our car and after exchanging a few words, I suggest he might like to sleep on the way up. He has similar plans.
 

The drive to Santa Cruz is quiet. We notice some kind of event being set up in Moss Landing. That turned out to be the well-attended annual Antique Fair.

We arrive at Santa Cruz Municipal pier at 5:40 a.m. As we get our boards and ourselves ready, I see a familiar Eaton paddleboard seemingly floating in the dark across Cowell Beach. Phil Curtis is right on time. I call Mike Roberts, who has spent the night with his dad, Dale, on Mike’s boat, Sjøfugl, to let them know we have arrived. Mike lets me know he’s the furthest boat out from us, lights on.

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A Sjøfugl, our boat's namesake

DeeAnn snaps a few shots of us, we do some stretches, and as we pick up our paddleboards, I joke this will be a Le Mans start (involves running to your race vehicle) – a stunt played on us by the organizers of the Bay Crossing in 2010.

Early. Phil's board is faintly apparent.

Paul, unzipping

Waking up. Even the boards are yawning.

Paul Wettereau, me, Phil Curtis

Paul. Ready.

As we get our boards wet, DeeAnn calls Mike to let him know we’re on our way.  He says, "I know, I can see them."

We pause at the boat to check in. Paul and Phil deliver their dry bags with dry clothes for later. Each of us has extra gear on the boat and Mike was ready to take paddleboards on the boat, “just in case.”  

We talk about our planned course, then go.

Days before, we all had a map of the 2010 Bay Crossing Course. The line from the start was straight South to the M1 Buoy near the deepest part of the Monterey Bay canyon. From there, a slight left turn to a South-Southeast heading is needed to land on Monterey’s Del Monte Beach, next to Wharf 2. The line is designed to take into account calm winds early with prevailing northwest winds later. By delaying the turn off the Southerly line, paddlers get the push from the northwest winds home. The total distance is about 28 miles.

Today, we are starting with no appreciable winds, and it gets perfectly glassy as we go. A light Southwest wind was predicted, but the small, short period northwest swell makes the planned route nearly as appealing as when northwest winds are expected.

But somehow the idea of going out south-southwest creeps into our conversation and so we head out. It doesn’t fully register with any of us early on in our paddle that we should not be able to see the Wilder Coast at any time over our right shoulders.

And while we can see coastline over our right shoulders, we can see little past Pleasure Point to our left, due to the haze.

As we paddle, we talk. I’m not the world’s greatest conversationalist, but I’m truly enjoying hearing Paul's and Phil's discussion. The paddle is turning out to be great fun in glassy conditions.

These photos show the glassy conditions, and also how gray and how limited our visibility was.

Five miles into the paddle, we take a break. Paul and Phil swallow a gel each. I gave those up, as they didn’t agree with me. I’m now using something that goes into my water bottle instead, with coconut milk and vitamin C added.  I have already done two 27-mile paddles with this solution in the last months, and it works for me all day long.

The sea life we spot include a whale and a few albatross. Later, we see a sizable flock and watch the awkward ballet that is the albatross’s way of getting to flight. The feet are “running” the whole time, and it seems to take forever to gain enough altitude to make redundant the takeoff and landing gear.

Everything is gray, yet there is contrast. Each of us in turn remarks how deep the water feels. Somebody remarks that Frosty Hesson's character in the Chasing Maverick's movie was right when he called this a "deep blue abyss".  We all agree. I also feel the isolation, the distance from everything familiar. There is a quiet power. This is a whole ‘nother world that seems benign now, but each of us knows better.

Some of our chatter involves calling out headings by three of us. There is a compass mounted on the Sjøfugl, one on Phil’s paddleboard and a page on my GPS.

In spite of our vigilant attention to our indicators, and partly because we can no longer see land, we wind up pretty far west. The only active map we have is my GPS with its tiny screen and roughly drawn map.

I had learned on a previous paddle to be wary of hand-held GPS maps. When approaching Santa Cruz Island on the way to the 2011 Island-to-Island paddle, our boat's crew member with the greatest sense of humor was at the helm when he stopped all forward progress about nine miles before reaching our objective, which was in full sight. When questioned by the captain, the mischievous mate responded: “The GPS says we’ve arrived.”

21 miles into our paddle, I am able to zoom in the GPS map so that I can begin to judge our position relative to Monterey Bay’s southern terminus, Point Piños. I know from many paddles that it’s four miles between Point Piños and Del Monte Beach. At about 21 miles into the paddle, I am getting the sense that the remaining portion of our paddle to Point Piños is significantly greater than that 4-mile final stretch. And we still are not seeing land. And we have seen zero fishing boats. All clues.

Still a little unsure of what I’m seeing, I call Paul and Phil over to the boat. We sit on our paddleboards, Mike stands above on the Sjøfugl.  I show them the map and tell them what I think I’m seeing.  My own vision of stepping onto Del Monte sand begins quickly fading. We agree that, yes, it looks from the GPS map like it’s going to be longer than we have time for, and a south wind is beginning to make the course a little rough.

We all agree to hand two of our paddleboards up to Mike and attach a rope to Phil’s to drag it home. But Paul kiddingly says he’s just paddling back. We all climb in the boat and busy ourselves pulling on dry shirts and coats for the trip home. Mike lashes down the paddleboards on the deck.  Dale moves forward to make sure the front of the paddleboards don’t hit anything.

Our paddle is over at 22 miles.

Next, Paul calls DeeAnn to let her and Lindsay (Paul’s wife) know when to expect us. He reassures her everyone is safe.

“Just in case” has happened. But our friendly chatter never stops. We talk about how we might have gotten so far west. The stories continue to flow. The most impressive part is how positive everyone stays.  The south wind strengthens some. The paddle would have increased in difficulty, but not beyond our abilities. Paul asks if I’m going to blog. I say I don’t know for sure if I will, but deadpan that I might call it “Don’t Go West, Young Man.”

Paul is mindful of Dale and relieves him up front.

Finally, we spot land – the Monterey Peninsula stretching from Point Piños to Pescadero Point. After we pass the Point Piños buoy, a whale breaches near a whale-watch boat. Surface conditions mostly smooth out. We pass Lover’s Point, Hopkins Marine Station, Cannery Row, San Carlos Beach, and round the Coast Guard Jetty. We’re home.

Once alongside Wharf 2, Mike spots a ladder Paul can use for his exit. It’s not an easy approach. Phil’s board wanders into the outboard as the boat comes about. Ouch. Then a commercial fishing boat approaches to unload, possibly needing to take up the space in front of the ladder Mike was aiming for. Mike moves well out of its way and spots another ladder, and has to call off some fishermen with lines in the water standing on the pier above. Then the first ladder becomes available after all, so Mike swings around and heads back. Mike approaches, then he and Phil grab the ladder.

Approaching Wharf 2, Monterey

L to R: Phil Curtis, Captain Mike Roberts, Paul Wettereau

First Mate, Dale Roberts

About 14 miles and 2 ½ hours after we had all boarded the Slöfugl, Paul disembarks by way of that ladder attached to the pier.   He collects his wallet, keys & phone from Lindsay and sprints up the wharf, conscious of getting to work on time.

Had we paddled the whole way, it would have added up to 36 miles – a distance that would keep us out much longer than we had time for today.  And while we didn’t accomplish our intended Bay crossing, we have paddled the waters outside Monterey Bay, an unforgettable blue water paddle.

Now it’s time to head into the harbor for the ramp. After tying up and offloading paddleboards and gear, Mike begins the process of trailering the boat, along with Dale and Kay (Mike’s mom) – no small amount of work.

Kay Roberts. So long!

I walk past Phil on the way to my car with my board. I am inspired to offer: “Phil, I only have one thing to say:” followed by uncontrollable laughter. He joins in.

4th Annual Santa Cruz Downwind Ryders Cup Paddleboard Race - May 18, 2013

 The Davenport Downwinder is a 14-mile romp down central California wilderness coastline, for serious paddlers only. It will toss you, spank you, and serve up the best runners you’ll ever get. You’ll swear you’re over it and won’t go near it again. But you’ll be back. When you do come back, don’t forget your leash.

Props to Ghostryder Waterman’s Club for hosting a world-class race with local hospitality, all in support of Santa Cruz’s Junior Lifeguards program.  And thanks to all of the event’s sponsors, too. Just to help raise a little more, Joe Bark donated one of his beautiful longboards for a raffle. Isn’t that just like Joe.

There was nearly as much paddling energy in the water as there was wind energy on it. The field really grew this year, from under 70 last year to over 100 this time. And the participation was international. I don’t have the registration information, but I know for sure we had at least one New Zealander and two Frenchmen. And it’s no small deal for anyone to come over from Hawai‘i.

The race goes from Davenport landing, a rather lonely spot north of town. The tiny access road filled with paddleboard-bearing vehicles of all sizes.  Here's ours (thanks to DeeAnn for all the photos):

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It's great to get to the cove, check in, say hi to friends. Joe Bark's truck is impossible to miss, and it's great to check in with him. He takes one look at my board and comments on my choice of weapon. I remark who Joe made this board for and that it surfs. Joe looks and says, yeah, he sees it.

Kevin Seid came over from O'ahu. I met him at the 2009 Lake Tahoe Classic, where we paddled and joked together much of the first half of that race. Kevin owns and operates Everpaddle out of Haleiwa (http://www.everpaddle.com/).

Next, check conditions, ready the equipment ... and crank up the courage. These are some conditions. Yeeeew!! There are whitecaps everywhere. And this cove is just gorgeous.

My ride this year wasn't my 14-foot Bark CT. My fin touched a rock, and the CT was still draining out.  But I figured my 17'6" could be a fun ride. Joe Bark made it for Tony Hotchkiss as a combo flat water/downwind board. It has just enough rocker to surf, and it really turned on for me during this race.

And speaking of the Bark family, Jack showed up. This is the last I saw of him until I got to the finish line ... about an hour after Jack! What a talent.

I always love shots of the stickyard ...

The prerace meeting:

OK, let's get down to it.

Oh, but check out that scenery:

Paddleboarding isn't really a spectator sport. Only the dedicated come to race starts.

 Joe, mid-warmup.

Outa here...

An impressionistic rendering, no?

I love how hectic the starts are. There's just so much energy and focus. I bumped rails with one or two SUPs on the way out. And there are so many of us going the same way. That moves a lot of water.

 Other paddlecraft went about 15 min. later.

This was my second Davey.  It's surprising that, once 100 paddlers are in the water, everyone spreads out. After the first 15 minutes, I mostly paddled in isolation. Others reported similar experiences.

Some things came together for me technically. More so than I suspected going into the race.

That was a little surprising for me because in this race, my focus wasn’t as much on when I’d arrive at the finish line as in past races. I left the Garmin in the car. Here’s why the shift: I have finally wakened to some simple facts: if all you think about is the finish line, the speed, the results, you miss 14 miles of thrills and only curse the spills. I’m slowly learning that enjoying the present moment is the greatest gift I can give myself. And there’s nothing to focus the mind on the present like barreling down the coast in a 20+ knot wind.

Another advantage to focusing on the moment is not thinking about how long the race is. You can just take it in short segments of a minute or less. The distance is less overwhelming when approached in that way. But more than that, I was able to look for what I could enjoy about this race right now. Like the bump ride that’s going on … and on … and on … (stroke, stroke, stroke) … and on … and on. Or the scenery -- God, what scenery.  Paddlers really spread out in this race, so much of it is just you and the ocean. So it really helps to find the things that make each moment worth the trip.

I did get tossed off once because, after a bump caught me (this thing was standing up like approaching shorebreak), I failed to pitch out my 17-foot, 6-inch paddleboard. The nose dug in, and I flew over the handlebars. So did my water bottles. The board was running away fast. If I hadn’t had my leash, I doubt I would ever have caught it. And it’s a long, sharky swim to the beach. The leash made it possible for me to recover the water bottles without fear of losing sight of the paddleboard. So, fortunately, I recovered quickly, with water bottles. And later, when another wall approached, I got it right. Like I said, focus.

I still felt good enough at the end to finish strong (a relative term). But I was ready to get that recovery drink down, and get back to feeling normal.

I’m not in the finish-in 2-hours (or so) club. I’m coming in at around 3 hours, give or take. So, it was great to get to the beach and see all that talent hanging around to welcome and visit with the rest of us.  

But I did come in on the tail of Phil Curtis. When we got to Steamer Lane, Phil took an inside line, while I stayed outside the kelp. Phil was with two SUPs. I shoulda figured they could see it was clear and joined them. At the end of the day, Phil beat me and my unlimited on his 14-foot (somewhat vintage) Eaton. Phil's clearly the better man!

The race organizers nearly all paddle the race. Here's Zach Wormoudt, who came in way ahead of me on his SUP.

Here are a couple more friends ...

Reno Caldwell, the Redondo Rocket, nailed a podium finish.

Mike Dilloughery greets Jarret Winter. Mike couldn't do this one.

The after-party was just packed, and it seemed to me no one left until the end. I caught up with friends, and left with a hoarse voice, smiling ear-to-ear.

Which is to say: this is as much about those friends we get to check in with as it is about the paddling.