Surfski Knowledge Base

surfskierx <brandon@…>
05/17/09 #6270

When we heard that Nadja and Jimmy were reviving the San Juan Challenge – the kayak race out of Anacortes that literally inspired Heather and I to move to the Pacific NW – we knew without a doubt that we had to represent. We've been taking turns racing the longer ones lately, Heather having done the Tour D'Indian Arm last weekend at Deep Cove, BC, so it was my turn to throw down for this 25-miler.

Going into it, I wasn't entirely thrilled that it preceded Ski to Sea weekend – a 5-mile race I've been training for and for which I'd like to peak – but I figured I'd cruise it on the slower side, see some beautiful scenery and wildlife, reminisce about the old time San Juan Challenge, and get a nice training paddle in to boot.

At the start, there was a heavily lopsided contingent of sea kayakers and very few surfskis, probably a ratio of about 30 to 6. Jeff and Katja were there in their double, Mike Gregory, Traci Cole and Tracy Landboe in skis, a bunch of familiar faces in sea kayaks and (gulp) too many drysuits, David Halpern had his OC1, and Don Kiesling was (wisely) racing the 4-mile short course, though on his paddle board. No row boats were to be seen, a bummer for them considering it was glassy flat the whole way.

The tide was ebbing the entire race, and was helpful all but about 15% of the time, on the north sides of Cypress and Guemes. I went out with Jeff and Katja (neither drafting the other, mind you… I wasn't about to get “judged” by anyone) and immediately put a good gap on the rest of the field. We exchanged the lead a few times in the first half hour or so, then they pulled gradually away as we rounded Cypress's south end.

The conditions were so mellow, it was easy to just zone out and get lost in my thoughts – Hayden Storm being the main topic of my imagination, and bringing a smile to my face about every 30 seconds. It was going to be a cruisy race, just as I'd planned, with no worries about trying to win, but no one close enough behind me to be a threat in the singles class.

As I cranked along, though, I found myself reeling the double back in, and next thing I knew I'd pulled up beside them, then eased past. By this point we were nearing the north crossing between Cypress and Guemes, and I was feeling like a million bucks. I'd been sipping Perpetuem, and had a back-up liter of Gatorade, some Hammer Gel, a Clif Bar and a Power Bar just in case.

As we started the crossing, roughly half-way into the race, Jeff and Katja had regained the lead, and simultaneously I felt the first butt pain course through. “Uh oh…” I thought. In years past, I've always denounced surfskis for longer paddles. I'm too big, too near the limit of “cockpit comfort” to start with, and having only one possible leg position for hours on end didn't make sense to me, design-wise. But somehow I'd forgotten this golden rule and must have figured I now transcended such imaginary limitations. The next wave of pain came on like a tsunami, and I dragged a brace and lifted my butt out of the seat to try easing the discomfort. The double put another length on me, then another…

What had been a very strong-yet-relaxed first half of the race had now become nothing short of survival paddling. I couldn't link 25 good strokes without rolling around in the seat, sticking a leg straight out, leaning fore or aft, all while letting out a grunt or whimper. “Good God!” I said out loud as I stared ahead to what looked like about a thousand miles of paddling to the next point on Guemes. I wasn't having fun anymore, not by a long shot, and my smiles while picturing Hayden's comical antics had turned to gritted teeth and shipwreck-survivor-like promises to myself and my family that, “I'll make it home, honey! I'll make it, I swear!!!”
My Perpetuem bladder went dry around mile 20, and I pounded a Clif Bar and a shot of Hammer Gel, followed by half the Gatorade. I felt under my butt for the golf balls someone had put there, but they eluded my grasp and I was forced to paddle with them in place, pressing tortuously into my gluteus-horrificus.

Finally, the nightmare ended to cheers and airhorns, and despite winning the singles class and finishing a not-too-disappointing 11 minutes or so behind Jeff and Katja, I had none of the pride-swelling feelings of victory or a job well done, but instead I could only mutter, in a state of near shock, “Good God!”

Mike Gregory and Traci Cole duked it out for second, Mike edging her by a length. Tracy Landboe came in just a couple minutes later, followed by Halpern on his OC-1, if I'm not mistaken. Final results are still pending as of this post.

As recovery begins, the pain is already forgotten and feelings of nostalgia and tremendous gratitude to Jimmy and Nadja flood in. Thanks for bringing back a classic, you guys. I'll be there next time, too, though hopefully I'll remember that the San Juan Challenge is, for me, a kayak race, not a Surfski race!!!