On Saturday I paddled the K1 in the harbor for 30 minutes before loading up and heading for southern Missouri. I traveled by way of Hardy, Arkansas, where my family took trips when I was a child. I loved those vacations more than anything. I took my time Saturday as I revisited the route that once got me so excited: the flat-as-a-board Arkansas Delta giving way to the eastern foothills of the Ozarks; the Santa Fe Railroad tracks running alongside the highway; familiar town names like Hoxie, Walnut Ridge, Pocahontas, Ravenden, and Imboden; the lovely clear Spring River, where I got in a canoe for the first time.
I was past Hardy before I realized that I had a pretty bad "trucker burn" going. The weather was nice so I had my window open, and I had on a tank top, and heading north and west I was exposed to the afternoon sun. So I got burned on my entire left arm from the shoulder down, on my left thigh, and on the left side of my face and neck.
I arrived at Sunburst Ranch campground on the North Fork of the White River in the late afternoon, and was reminded of why camping on Fourth of July weekend is not as pleasant as it should be. There are people in our society who treat this holiday as a license to be as loud and obnoxious as they wish, and if you dare call them out on it then of course you must hate America. Thankfully, the jerks at Sunburst Ranch were relatively tame this time around--their incredibly loud fireworks ceased around ten o'clock.
Yesterday morning the racers began to arrive for the first event, a race to Dawt Mill some seven or eight miles down the North Fork. Most of them were paddling aluminum canoes: fabled tandems like Don Walls/Dale Burris and Jim Short/Doug Pennington, along with younger crews like Nathan White/Josh Sayger. My competition in the kayak class was three-time Olympian Mike Herbert, who, to be honest, inhabits a different competitive universe from mine. But somehow I managed to have a faster start than he did, possibly with the help of some faster water. I led him by a nose for some ten seconds before he took the lead and began to pull away.
I always forget how pretty this stretch of the North Fork is. I can't remember when I had last been on water that was clear enough to reveal the river bottom. I also forget that it has a generous offering of Class II rapids; if there were any more whitewater here I would opt for a sure-enough wildwater boat rather than my lighter, tippier Apple Turnover.
I managed to overtake all of the canoes, who had started about five minutes before Mike and me, so I was the second boat across the line. Burris/Walls took the aluminum win, and Short/Pennington won a furious sprint to the finish to claim second place over White/Sayger.
We had about an hour break before the event that had really gotten me up here in the first place: a race of about six miles on Norfork Reservoir in which I would compete in my K1 for the first time. Mike was entered in the K1 he'll be racing in the world marathon championships this September, and Don Walls was nice enough to enter in his surf ski so I wouldn't be all alone out there once Mike had left me in the dust.
The gun went off, and Mike sprinted into the lead as expected. As I've mentioned numerous times before, I lack the confidence in my stability to sprint all-out in the K1, so I found myself in third place behind Don. Once the pace settled down I managed to pull even with Don, though I suspect he might have waited up for me so we could trade wake rides--he's a nice guy that way. But I was actually feeling pretty good and was able to relax my body and rotate fully.
Then a motorboat came zooming past us on our right, and that was the beginning of the end for me. As the wakes began to undulate beneath me, my concentration was badly disrupted and I reverted to stiff, tentative strokes with a lot of braces. Don quickly opened several boat lengths on me and even as the water calmed back down, I felt flustered and unable to relax. I wasted a bunch of energy trying to get myself refocused, and by the time we reached the turnaround point, the combined effects of this mental fatigue and my fatigue from the morning race began to take their toll. I made several attempts to cut into Don's lead, but Don, a fit, strong athlete in his own right, wasn't going to let me have it. With a mile to go I was about ready to raise the white flag.
As I approached the finish under the U.S. 160 bridge, Mike, who's as nice a guy as you'll ever meet, paddled alongside me and urged me to finish strong. I was truly exhausted but I didn't want to let Mike down, and I paddled as hard as I could. Afterward, Mike advised me on things I already knew: I needed to sit more erect and relax and allow my body to open up fully for maximum stroke power. He noticed that my K1 lacks a foot strap and said it would make a big difference if I installed one. In the boats I have paddled that have foot straps, I have not found the strap to be something I rely on, but I am going to defer to Mike's expertise and install one in my K1 as soon as I get a chance.
Today I am feeling as sore as ever and a bit demoralized after this race in which I was unable to perform like the paddler I know I can be. I've always sort of scoffed at guys who are constantly changing boats with the belief that a different boat will make them better, but I am beginning to question whether this particular K1, designed for world-class races of 1000 meters or less, is really the right one for me. I've always had sort of a brash attitude toward such things--"I may not be as fast as the top guys, but by golly, I can paddle any boat they can!"--but something a little bit more stable and fit to cruise over a longer distance might be what I need. But I'm not ready to go out and get a new boat just now, so I'll keep playing around with this one and learning whatever I can about it and about myself.
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