I've missed racing this year in that I've missed gathering with like-minded people and testing myself against athletes who take the sport seriously like I do. On the other hand, I haven't particularly missed the five-, six-, and seven-hour drives and other ancillary chores and expenses in the service of attending races.
I've mentioned the frustrating feeling of being "stuck" here at home all summer. But when I allow myself to settle in and embrace it, there's something peaceful about going down to my home river and just having fun out there. With no competitions to be sharp for, I'm sticking to the "play" variety of workouts.
I'm also keeping the sessions short--no longer than 60 or 70 minutes. That's primarily because of the heat. Once you're overcome with the oppressive summer heat your form falls apart and your training is not really productive anymore.
Speaking of the heat, we've had plenty of it, but we've gotten breaks here and there, too. For the last week or so there have been scattered thunderstorms in the region that have cooled things down in the afternoon. One pandemic habit I've fallen into is sitting out on the back deck and drinking a beer around 5:00 or 5:30 PM, and on many days the weather has been more pleasant at that hour than in the late morning or at lunchtime.
On Tuesday Joe and I did our usual loop of the harbor. The humid air was stifling and breathless as I readied my gear on the dock, but out on the water there was just enough of a breeze to make our session bearable.
This morning I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then headed out onto the Mississippi to see what was going on. There were three barge rigs moving upriver, the last of which was emerging from under the Harahan Bridge. I headed for that one to see what kind of fun I could have on its wake. The conditions were sort of tricky, and they didn't last long, but I managed to get a couple of really nice rides--probably the best since my "dream day" two months ago. I even linked several runs--not easy to do in the unpredictable world of barge-wake surfing.
As I drove home the temperature display in my car said it was 89 degrees Fahrenheit outside. As I approached my house I drove into a torrential downpour, and I watched as the reading dropped to 81 degrees. When I got home the rain showed no signs of letting up, and I got pretty wet running up the back stairs to the door. The deluge continued for the better part of the next hour, and I'm curious to know how much rain fell here; I'm thinking at least an inch. Whatever the case, the storm kept the day from growing too hot.
Really, my only complaint about this current weather pattern is that the evenings have been cloudy, and I'd like to get a glimpse of the comet Neowise that's passing near the Earth right now. I think there are only several more evenings when it will be visible. Apparently this comet has a period of around 6800 years... I try my best to stay healthy and fit, but to be around the next time the comet shows up might be too much to hope for.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Thursday, July 23, 2020
Monday, July 20, 2020
Monday photo feature
I pay a hundred bucks per quarter to keep my boat down at Harbortown Marina, and it might be the best $400 I spend each year. The hassle of getting my boat on and off the car every time I want to paddle is one of those subtle challenges to one's motivation that I'm happy not to have to deal with. I can even ride my bike down there if I feel like it or if I want some extra cardio training. And it's nice to have a place to spread out and ready my gear before paddling and put it away after.
That's my boat on the top rack in the photo above. And in the foreground we see a piece of equipment that is, in the summertime, nearly as important. Taking a bath in cool water from the hose is something I look forward to as I paddle the last 2000 meters up the harbor back to the dock on a steaming hot day. I keep a bottle of castile soap on the dock, and I come away fresh as a daisy (at least until I've made the hike up the ramp to the parking lot and worked up a sweat again).
I'll just add that there are people who pay a lot more than $400 a year to belong to some spa where they can sit in a sauna and then douse themselves with cold water. I get essentially the same thing at no addition to the cost of storing my boat at the marina. And yes, I feel very smart because of that.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Sunday, July 19, 2020
More summertime fun on the big river
Yesterday morning I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then headed out onto the Mississippi hoping to find some barge wakes to surf.
There was a rig coming downstream that was generating some good-sized waves. As I paddled out toward them some men on the deck started hooting and hollering at me. I couldn't tell whether they were cheering me on or shouting at me to get lost. Then the pilot cut the engines way back, and I began to sense that they did indeed have a problem with me riding their wake. Then again, it's been my experience that when a pilot is truly annoyed with a paddler's behavior, he'll give an angry blast of his horn or deliver a stern rebuke over his P.A. system, and I heard nothing of the sort this time. Eventually the engines powered back up, but the waves were wandering back and forth so much that I couldn't get a good ride. I gave up around the time that I was passing beneath the old bridges below downtown.
Looking downriver I saw another rig making its way upstream. It was at least twenty minutes away, so I took out below the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge and took a breather and did some stretching. As the vessel neared the bridge I got back in the boat and paddled up the Arkansas bank a few hundred meters before ferrying out and seeing what I could do. The waves had a slight confusion to them but after a few tries I managed to get several decent rides.
After some ten minutes of that I was gasping for breath and getting hot under the blazing sun. I ferried over to the Tennessee bank and paddled up into the harbor, where I flipped my boat and cooled off for a few minutes. I did remounts from both sides of the boat--I guess one good thing about the hot summers here is that I end up getting plenty of remount practice.
Another hot one was shaping up as I went back out in the boat this morning. After a warmup and another three 8-strokers, I found a barge rig moving up the Mississippi just out of the mouth of the harbor. I paddled a brisk pace up the big eddy near the southern tip of Mud Island, then ferried out to try my hand at surfing once more. Once again I found waves that were not in an organized train, and the water was very confused from the churning of the towboat's props. I threw in one hard sprint after another but couldn't quite manage a sweet ride, and I had to keep paddling hard to sustain the rides I did get. But in the end I was satisfied. One thing I work on every time I surf is reading the waves and trying to sprint at just the right moment: I remember in South Africa having Dawid Mocke behind me shouting "Okay... Go! NOW!!" and I would try to snap a picture in my mind of where I was on a swell at that instant. So that's one way I have fun even in less-than-ideal conditions. And if nothing else, the frequent sprints are a good workout.
I paddled easy back into the harbor, and did some more remount practice there followed by a hose bath back at the dock.
In other news, John Wellens has completed his source-to-sea expedition on the Mississippi River. It took him 41 days to make the journey from Lake Itasca in Minnesota to the Head of Passes in Louisiana. That's a very quick trip. I think several months is not unusual.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
There was a rig coming downstream that was generating some good-sized waves. As I paddled out toward them some men on the deck started hooting and hollering at me. I couldn't tell whether they were cheering me on or shouting at me to get lost. Then the pilot cut the engines way back, and I began to sense that they did indeed have a problem with me riding their wake. Then again, it's been my experience that when a pilot is truly annoyed with a paddler's behavior, he'll give an angry blast of his horn or deliver a stern rebuke over his P.A. system, and I heard nothing of the sort this time. Eventually the engines powered back up, but the waves were wandering back and forth so much that I couldn't get a good ride. I gave up around the time that I was passing beneath the old bridges below downtown.
Looking downriver I saw another rig making its way upstream. It was at least twenty minutes away, so I took out below the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge and took a breather and did some stretching. As the vessel neared the bridge I got back in the boat and paddled up the Arkansas bank a few hundred meters before ferrying out and seeing what I could do. The waves had a slight confusion to them but after a few tries I managed to get several decent rides.
After some ten minutes of that I was gasping for breath and getting hot under the blazing sun. I ferried over to the Tennessee bank and paddled up into the harbor, where I flipped my boat and cooled off for a few minutes. I did remounts from both sides of the boat--I guess one good thing about the hot summers here is that I end up getting plenty of remount practice.
Another hot one was shaping up as I went back out in the boat this morning. After a warmup and another three 8-strokers, I found a barge rig moving up the Mississippi just out of the mouth of the harbor. I paddled a brisk pace up the big eddy near the southern tip of Mud Island, then ferried out to try my hand at surfing once more. Once again I found waves that were not in an organized train, and the water was very confused from the churning of the towboat's props. I threw in one hard sprint after another but couldn't quite manage a sweet ride, and I had to keep paddling hard to sustain the rides I did get. But in the end I was satisfied. One thing I work on every time I surf is reading the waves and trying to sprint at just the right moment: I remember in South Africa having Dawid Mocke behind me shouting "Okay... Go! NOW!!" and I would try to snap a picture in my mind of where I was on a swell at that instant. So that's one way I have fun even in less-than-ideal conditions. And if nothing else, the frequent sprints are a good workout.
I paddled easy back into the harbor, and did some more remount practice there followed by a hose bath back at the dock.
In other news, John Wellens has completed his source-to-sea expedition on the Mississippi River. It took him 41 days to make the journey from Lake Itasca in Minnesota to the Head of Passes in Louisiana. That's a very quick trip. I think several months is not unusual.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Friday, July 17, 2020
All fun canceled until further notice
I've mentioned here a few times in the past how much I loved going to summer camp as a kid. I was never particularly happy at the schools I attended, and camp was a chance for me to do some things I had some aptitude for and see people I felt like I could be myself around. It was also where I became a paddler for a lifetime.
The camp I went to, located in the mountains of western North Carolina, is still in operation. However, the COVID-19 pandemic has forced it to cancel all its sessions this summer. I cannot imagine how distraught I would have been if such a thing had happened during the years when I was a camper.
I bring this up now because I'm currently having a somewhat similar experience with the cancelation of the Gorge Downwind Championships out on the Columbia River. My trip out there has become a cherished ritual for me, and I was really looking forward to being there this week to continue my study of the art of downwind paddling and to reconnect with people I've met out there. Alas, this event too has succumbed to the pandemic, and I am sitting at home.
I am more skilled at coping with such disappointment now than I was as a summer-camp-aged kid forty years ago. Life has a way of kicking you in the gut and numbing you to the pain as you get older. I've basically accepted it with a sigh and a hope that maybe a year from now we'll have contained the virus enough to have an event like that again. But a touch of melancholy lingers.
It's good and hot here at home. I expect no less from summer in the Mid South. Fortunately my current home-improvement project takes place indoors where my air-conditioning system is in good working order. I'm plugging away at the slow process of tuck-pointing the brickwork in a room of the house. Recently my lower body has been stiff by the end of each day because I've been up on the ladder, sometimes moving up and down frequently between my mortar board and the part of the wall I'm working on, sometimes standing on the balls of my feet for balance as I reach high up into the rafters.
This week I paddled on Tuesday and yesterday, doing a loop of the harbor with Joe in the former session and pushing the pace out on the river in the latter. The heat was getting to me a little toward the end of my hour in the boat yesterday. By the time I was back in the harbor paddling toward the dock, I paused in the shade of each of the three bridges and splashed water all over myself. Then I took a lovely hose bath on the dock.
I'm not sure of my weekend paddling plan yet, but I expect to be hot regardless of what I do.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
The camp I went to, located in the mountains of western North Carolina, is still in operation. However, the COVID-19 pandemic has forced it to cancel all its sessions this summer. I cannot imagine how distraught I would have been if such a thing had happened during the years when I was a camper.
I bring this up now because I'm currently having a somewhat similar experience with the cancelation of the Gorge Downwind Championships out on the Columbia River. My trip out there has become a cherished ritual for me, and I was really looking forward to being there this week to continue my study of the art of downwind paddling and to reconnect with people I've met out there. Alas, this event too has succumbed to the pandemic, and I am sitting at home.
I am more skilled at coping with such disappointment now than I was as a summer-camp-aged kid forty years ago. Life has a way of kicking you in the gut and numbing you to the pain as you get older. I've basically accepted it with a sigh and a hope that maybe a year from now we'll have contained the virus enough to have an event like that again. But a touch of melancholy lingers.
It's good and hot here at home. I expect no less from summer in the Mid South. Fortunately my current home-improvement project takes place indoors where my air-conditioning system is in good working order. I'm plugging away at the slow process of tuck-pointing the brickwork in a room of the house. Recently my lower body has been stiff by the end of each day because I've been up on the ladder, sometimes moving up and down frequently between my mortar board and the part of the wall I'm working on, sometimes standing on the balls of my feet for balance as I reach high up into the rafters.
This week I paddled on Tuesday and yesterday, doing a loop of the harbor with Joe in the former session and pushing the pace out on the river in the latter. The heat was getting to me a little toward the end of my hour in the boat yesterday. By the time I was back in the harbor paddling toward the dock, I paused in the shade of each of the three bridges and splashed water all over myself. Then I took a lovely hose bath on the dock.
I'm not sure of my weekend paddling plan yet, but I expect to be hot regardless of what I do.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Monday, July 13, 2020
Monday photo feature
John Wellens shot this photo of Bruce Poacher and me as we paddled down the Mississippi River toward Memphis last Monday. That's Bruce on the right and me on the left. The conditions weren't really that hazy or misty; John's lens was fogged up with humidity. I sort of like the effect, actually.
As of this morning John is close to completing the long wilderness section between Natchez, Mississippi, and Baton Rouge, Louisiana. To avoid the worst of the withering heat, he's getting started before six o'clock each morning, finding a shady spot to rest for several hours in the middle of the day, and paddling quite late into the evening.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Sunday, July 12, 2020
Making the best of a summer at home
Right now I should be savoring the environs of the Columbia River Gorge. Should be.
I decided about a month ago that a trip out there for the Gorge Downwind Championships wasn't in the cards for me. The organizers continued to try everything they could to make the event happen for a much smaller, more local group of racers, but this latest surge of COVID-19 cases proved to be one obstacle too many, and they called it off entirely.
Here in the Mid South, summer is shaping up into its usual self: humid and hot. This weekend has been pretty bad. While the air temperature hasn't been as bad is it can be--low 90s Fahrenheit, as opposed to high 90s or 100s--the humidity has pushed the heat index into triple digits.
Such weather has exacerbated a rough patch I'm going through as an athlete. I'm always tired after I paddle, of course, but whereas it's usually an endorphin-charged feeling of exhilaration, lately it's been an exhausted, beat-down sort of tired. I noticed it last weekend and ended up taking a break last Sunday. Then I took a couple of days off after paddling with John Wellens and Bruce Poacher last Monday. I was hoping I might have some renewed energy by the time I went to the river Thursday, but I still ended up laboring through it. It was more of the same yesterday.
I got a bit of a break this morning: there were some thunderstorms in the region, and though hardly a drop fell on me, I had some cloud cover and a nice breeze out on the river. Not coincidentally, it was the best I'd felt in the boat in at least a week.
What exactly did I do these three times out paddling? Well, I did sets of three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor all three days. I was hoping to find some barge traffic on the river so I could do some surfing and have fun and get wet, but the river was deserted Thursday and yesterday, and today all I saw was one southbound rig whose wake was too small for doing anything. What I ended up doing instead was playing around in the eddies below the Hernando DeSoto Bridge's pilings. The eddies are quite boily with occasional exploding whirlpools, and I did a bunch of S-turn-like moves where I keep my boat moving across the eddies without having to stop and brace or anything like that. It's an effort to build skill and confidence in the boat.
It sounds like summer will be baring its teeth even more this coming week. I've heard that we can expect high temperatures in the high 90s by Tuesday.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
I decided about a month ago that a trip out there for the Gorge Downwind Championships wasn't in the cards for me. The organizers continued to try everything they could to make the event happen for a much smaller, more local group of racers, but this latest surge of COVID-19 cases proved to be one obstacle too many, and they called it off entirely.
Here in the Mid South, summer is shaping up into its usual self: humid and hot. This weekend has been pretty bad. While the air temperature hasn't been as bad is it can be--low 90s Fahrenheit, as opposed to high 90s or 100s--the humidity has pushed the heat index into triple digits.
Such weather has exacerbated a rough patch I'm going through as an athlete. I'm always tired after I paddle, of course, but whereas it's usually an endorphin-charged feeling of exhilaration, lately it's been an exhausted, beat-down sort of tired. I noticed it last weekend and ended up taking a break last Sunday. Then I took a couple of days off after paddling with John Wellens and Bruce Poacher last Monday. I was hoping I might have some renewed energy by the time I went to the river Thursday, but I still ended up laboring through it. It was more of the same yesterday.
I got a bit of a break this morning: there were some thunderstorms in the region, and though hardly a drop fell on me, I had some cloud cover and a nice breeze out on the river. Not coincidentally, it was the best I'd felt in the boat in at least a week.
What exactly did I do these three times out paddling? Well, I did sets of three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor all three days. I was hoping to find some barge traffic on the river so I could do some surfing and have fun and get wet, but the river was deserted Thursday and yesterday, and today all I saw was one southbound rig whose wake was too small for doing anything. What I ended up doing instead was playing around in the eddies below the Hernando DeSoto Bridge's pilings. The eddies are quite boily with occasional exploding whirlpools, and I did a bunch of S-turn-like moves where I keep my boat moving across the eddies without having to stop and brace or anything like that. It's an effort to build skill and confidence in the boat.
It sounds like summer will be baring its teeth even more this coming week. I've heard that we can expect high temperatures in the high 90s by Tuesday.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Monday, July 6, 2020
Monday photo feature
Joe Royer shot this photo while he and I paddled last Tuesday. Our hot summers here can wear on a person, but they do give us some lovely cloudscapes.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Paddling annoyances and paddling epics
I believe pretty strongly that a bad day paddling is better than a good day sitting at a desk or something, but Saturday's session was rather unenjoyable nevertheless. It's quite common for me to have some stinging in my eyes when I'm paddling with the wind at my back on a sweaty summer day, and usually all I have to do is wipe my eyes and forehead with my hat and the problem is solved. But on Saturday my right eye was stinging unbearably, and every time I stopped to wipe it with my hat, it came right back within twenty seconds. Splashing my face with water, turning around and paddling into the breeze... nothing I tried could make my eye stop stinging.
I'm not saying the morning was a complete loss; I paddled for 70 minutes, during which I did a set of three 8-stroke sprints and worked on balance and glide in the boily eddies below the Hernando DeSoto Bridge pilings. But it was an ordeal of discomfort, and I was grateful to be back on the dock washing my face over and over under the hose and hoping the experience was a one-time aberration.
Throughout this pandemic paddling has been an effective antidote for whatever stress I've experienced in my non-athletic life. But right now I'm engaged in a home-improvement project that I'm actually feeling good about and even enjoying to some extent. After Saturday's frustrating exercise I decided to take a break from paddling yesterday and see how much work I could get done at home. I'm repairing some interior brickwork and it's a long, slow process, and it was satisfying to knock out a good chunk of it yesterday.
For today, I had a plan: I wanted to meet up with John Wellens, a fellow racer from South Carolina who is paddling the Mississippi River from source to sea to benefit the National Alliance on Mental Illness. I knew from looking at his G.P.S. track that he was starting this morning some 80 or 90 miles above Memphis near Blytheville, Arkansas, so he was likely to arrive at the Memphis riverfront in the mid to late afternoon. He would have a companion with him: Bruce and Liz Poacher had driven over from Erwin, Tennessee, and Bruce would be paddling with John today while Liz served as their shuttle driver.
I spent this morning doing another round of masonry work, and then around 12:30 I drove to the mouth of the Wolf River. From there I paddled upstream for four or five miles to the Hickman Bar. At the current river level (19.9 feet on the Memphis gauge) there was a nice sandy beach along the bar, and I cooled off in the water and watched the river for a pair of kayakers coming down. I knew I had to watch carefully because it's not hard for a tiny paddlecraft to slip by unnoticed out on the big river.
The better part of an hour went by and I didn't see any paddlers. I finally got back in the boat and ferried over to the Arkansas side, thinking it might be easier to spot them from there. I'd spent less than ten minutes hanging out near that bank when I saw them. I paddled out and joined them, and they seemed surprised at how I'd apparently come out of nowhere but glad to have some more company.
By this time they'd been paddling for about 70 miles and were eager to get to Memphis. We dealt with some headwinds from a nearby thunderstorm but the mighty river delivered us to our destination in the space of an hour or so. Liz met us at River Garden Park and very kindly gave my boat and me a ride back up to the mouth of the Wolf where my car was parked.
The website for John's journey is here. He also has a page on Face Book called "NAMIpaddle." I encourage folks to check it out as he continues toward the Gulf of Mexico. I consider it an honor to have joined him for a tiny snippet of the adventure.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
I'm not saying the morning was a complete loss; I paddled for 70 minutes, during which I did a set of three 8-stroke sprints and worked on balance and glide in the boily eddies below the Hernando DeSoto Bridge pilings. But it was an ordeal of discomfort, and I was grateful to be back on the dock washing my face over and over under the hose and hoping the experience was a one-time aberration.
Throughout this pandemic paddling has been an effective antidote for whatever stress I've experienced in my non-athletic life. But right now I'm engaged in a home-improvement project that I'm actually feeling good about and even enjoying to some extent. After Saturday's frustrating exercise I decided to take a break from paddling yesterday and see how much work I could get done at home. I'm repairing some interior brickwork and it's a long, slow process, and it was satisfying to knock out a good chunk of it yesterday.
For today, I had a plan: I wanted to meet up with John Wellens, a fellow racer from South Carolina who is paddling the Mississippi River from source to sea to benefit the National Alliance on Mental Illness. I knew from looking at his G.P.S. track that he was starting this morning some 80 or 90 miles above Memphis near Blytheville, Arkansas, so he was likely to arrive at the Memphis riverfront in the mid to late afternoon. He would have a companion with him: Bruce and Liz Poacher had driven over from Erwin, Tennessee, and Bruce would be paddling with John today while Liz served as their shuttle driver.
I spent this morning doing another round of masonry work, and then around 12:30 I drove to the mouth of the Wolf River. From there I paddled upstream for four or five miles to the Hickman Bar. At the current river level (19.9 feet on the Memphis gauge) there was a nice sandy beach along the bar, and I cooled off in the water and watched the river for a pair of kayakers coming down. I knew I had to watch carefully because it's not hard for a tiny paddlecraft to slip by unnoticed out on the big river.
The better part of an hour went by and I didn't see any paddlers. I finally got back in the boat and ferried over to the Arkansas side, thinking it might be easier to spot them from there. I'd spent less than ten minutes hanging out near that bank when I saw them. I paddled out and joined them, and they seemed surprised at how I'd apparently come out of nowhere but glad to have some more company.
By this time they'd been paddling for about 70 miles and were eager to get to Memphis. We dealt with some headwinds from a nearby thunderstorm but the mighty river delivered us to our destination in the space of an hour or so. Liz met us at River Garden Park and very kindly gave my boat and me a ride back up to the mouth of the Wolf where my car was parked.
The website for John's journey is here. He also has a page on Face Book called "NAMIpaddle." I encourage folks to check it out as he continues toward the Gulf of Mexico. I consider it an honor to have joined him for a tiny snippet of the adventure.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Friday, July 3, 2020
Sweating the days away
Summer is settling into the Mid South for real now. While the air temperature hasn't risen much above 90 degrees Fahrenheit, the humidity has been oppressive all week.
Looking on the bright side as much as I can, I'll just repeat what I said in last weekend's post about the Mississippi River being as nice a place as you can be in this kind of weather. This is also the time of year when taking a cool bath under the hose on the dock after paddling is something to savor.
I don't often get excited over products, but I have to say that the insulated stainless steel bottles sold by companies like Hydro Flask and Klean Canteen have been a godsend. Twenty years ago, when my best water bottles were those plastic Nalgene models, I could bring a frozen-solid bottle of water down to the dock with me, and it still would be almost too warm to drink by the time I'd finished paddling on a hot day in July or August. Nowadays I bring refrigerated water with me in an insulated steel bottle, and it's still nice and cold after an hour or two of paddling. Here in Memphis we're lucky to have some of the world's best drinking water, and it never tastes better than in those minutes after paddling on a Mid South summer day.
On Tuesday I got together with Joe to paddle a loop of the harbor. A south breeze kept us reasonably comfortable.
Yesterday was less breezy, and I went out in the boat looking for ways to get wet. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I headed out onto the Mississippi where three barge rigs were moving upstream in close succession. I paddled toward the last of them to see what surfing opportunities were on offer. They weren't the easiest waves to catch but I ended up getting a couple of decent rides along with plenty of hard sprints. The wave train didn't last long: the barges looked empty and I guess the pilot didn't have the pedal to the metal.
I returned to the harbor and did some re-mount practice--that's another very good use of these stifling hot days. Then I went back to the dock and gulped water and hosed myself down.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Looking on the bright side as much as I can, I'll just repeat what I said in last weekend's post about the Mississippi River being as nice a place as you can be in this kind of weather. This is also the time of year when taking a cool bath under the hose on the dock after paddling is something to savor.
I don't often get excited over products, but I have to say that the insulated stainless steel bottles sold by companies like Hydro Flask and Klean Canteen have been a godsend. Twenty years ago, when my best water bottles were those plastic Nalgene models, I could bring a frozen-solid bottle of water down to the dock with me, and it still would be almost too warm to drink by the time I'd finished paddling on a hot day in July or August. Nowadays I bring refrigerated water with me in an insulated steel bottle, and it's still nice and cold after an hour or two of paddling. Here in Memphis we're lucky to have some of the world's best drinking water, and it never tastes better than in those minutes after paddling on a Mid South summer day.
On Tuesday I got together with Joe to paddle a loop of the harbor. A south breeze kept us reasonably comfortable.
Yesterday was less breezy, and I went out in the boat looking for ways to get wet. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I headed out onto the Mississippi where three barge rigs were moving upstream in close succession. I paddled toward the last of them to see what surfing opportunities were on offer. They weren't the easiest waves to catch but I ended up getting a couple of decent rides along with plenty of hard sprints. The wave train didn't last long: the barges looked empty and I guess the pilot didn't have the pedal to the metal.
I returned to the harbor and did some re-mount practice--that's another very good use of these stifling hot days. Then I went back to the dock and gulped water and hosed myself down.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Monday, June 29, 2020
Monday photo feature
It's hard to believe this was four years ago. I took a trip up the Eastern Seaboard in August of 2016, the ultimate destination being the USCA Nationals on the Connecticut River at Northfield, Massachusetts. Along the way I visited my buddy Rob, who lives in Dutchess County north of New York City, and one day we went paddling on the Hudson River at Peekskill.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Sunday, June 28, 2020
It's water sports season
It's been a pretty hot, humid weekend, especially today. On both days, the river was the nicest place to be. Out there you get a breeze that doesn't really penetrate the middle of town where I live.
Yesterday I did a simple 60-minute paddle, doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor and then just paddling steady out on the Mississippi.
Adam Davis joined me this morning, and we spent about 100 minutes doing a bit of everything. When we got to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, we did a drill I've been doing for years that involves ferrying from one piling to another, following as straight a line as possible. In addition to having to paddle pretty hard, you have to pay close attention to your ferry angle and boat control.
Then we paddled up to the outflow channel from Dacus Lake. The river has been dropping the last couple of weeks and water from the lake has been draining back into the main channel, and right now there's a small waterfall at the mouth of the channel. There also were some big fish hanging out there, enjoying the not-so-sediment-laden water coming from the lake.
We paddled a ways up into the Loosahatchie Chute. At the current river level the dikes are just below the surface, and we had to do some little attainment moves to get up over them.
Finally, as we were coming back downriver, there was an upstream-moving barge rig creating some good waves, and I paddled out to do some surfing. By this time I was pretty tired from all the paddling we'd done, but I got three or four decent rides before letting it go and returning to the harbor.
Like I said... a little of everything. It was a satisfying way to spend a hot early-summer morning.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Yesterday I did a simple 60-minute paddle, doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor and then just paddling steady out on the Mississippi.
Adam Davis joined me this morning, and we spent about 100 minutes doing a bit of everything. When we got to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, we did a drill I've been doing for years that involves ferrying from one piling to another, following as straight a line as possible. In addition to having to paddle pretty hard, you have to pay close attention to your ferry angle and boat control.
Then we paddled up to the outflow channel from Dacus Lake. The river has been dropping the last couple of weeks and water from the lake has been draining back into the main channel, and right now there's a small waterfall at the mouth of the channel. There also were some big fish hanging out there, enjoying the not-so-sediment-laden water coming from the lake.
We paddled a ways up into the Loosahatchie Chute. At the current river level the dikes are just below the surface, and we had to do some little attainment moves to get up over them.
Finally, as we were coming back downriver, there was an upstream-moving barge rig creating some good waves, and I paddled out to do some surfing. By this time I was pretty tired from all the paddling we'd done, but I got three or four decent rides before letting it go and returning to the harbor.
Like I said... a little of everything. It was a satisfying way to spend a hot early-summer morning.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Friday, June 26, 2020
An unremarkable week
The first week of summer has featured the usual as far as this blog goes. On Tuesday I did a round of the strength routine and then paddled a loop of the harbor with Joe. Yesterday I did a 60-minute paddle that included a set of three 8-stroke sprints and chasing some waves behind an upstream-moving barge rig out on the Mississippi. The waves were small and I had to sprint hard to get anything, but I ended up getting several decent little rides. If nothing else, it was another good "play" workout of the sort I mentioned in my post last weekend.
All told, the weather has been rather nice for the month of June. We've had a few uncomfortably muggy days here and there, but for the most part the temperature has been below 90 degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity has been bearable. There's still plenty of time for the dog days to settle in--I trust our Mid South climate to be our Mid South climate--but I'll take any nice bones that Mother Nature decides to throw my way.
This morning I did another round of the strength routine. It's overcast with chances of rain, and today's high temperature might not exceed 85 degrees.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
All told, the weather has been rather nice for the month of June. We've had a few uncomfortably muggy days here and there, but for the most part the temperature has been below 90 degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity has been bearable. There's still plenty of time for the dog days to settle in--I trust our Mid South climate to be our Mid South climate--but I'll take any nice bones that Mother Nature decides to throw my way.
This morning I did another round of the strength routine. It's overcast with chances of rain, and today's high temperature might not exceed 85 degrees.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Thursday, June 25, 2020
Pandemic wanderlust
I mentioned in my post last weekend that the homebound life is getting to me. This week I've been pondering my travel options here in Pandemic Times. Below is a short list that's resulted from my brainstorming. #1 is by far the most feasible. #2 is sort of feasible. #3 is barely feasible.
1. The spring-fed rivers of southern Missouri.
In the Ozark foothills here are a few streams fed by springs that have been filtered by the karst geology. They include the North Fork of the White River; the Jack's Fork; the Eleven Point River; and the Current River. All are protected under the Ozark Scenic Waterways
This area is no more than three hours from where I live, so I could drive there easily with minimal reliance upon travel industry establishments and be self-contained for several days with food and camping gear.
For paddling, I'd have to dust off one of my old whitewater boats, as these streams are too small and shallow for a surfski with an understern rudder. Since I'd be relying on my bike for running shuttles, I'd have to find sections of river with reasonable-length shuttles--not always easy in remote areas.
I guess the biggest cost of traveling someplace not far from home is the expectation that the place be different from home. Certainly the weather won't be much different: if it's sweltering hot in Memphis, it'll probably be sweltering hot in southern Missouri. On the other hand, these spring-fed rivers have lovely, cool, clear water that screams "SWIM!!" Adam Davis and I were agreeing recently that even though we love our Mississippi River, once in a while you like to paddle on something different, and there's no better contrast to the Mississippi than a stream with clear water.
In any case, close means easy, and there's a good chance I'll be wandering up toward this area sometime this summer.
2. Minnesota, the Dakotas, and Nebraska.
Why Minnesota, the Dakotas, and Nebraska? Well, I have a goal of paddling in all 50 states, and these are four states that I haven't paddled in yet and are located where I'm not so likely to pass through them en route to some other destination. So they'll just have to be my destination.
I've been curious about Lake Superior for the last few years, so I'd likely spend several days along that lake's Minnesota shore. Meanwhile, the Missouri River crosses the North Dakota-South Dakota border south of Bismarck, so some kind of overnight trip on that section would be in order. I could maybe hit a section of the Platte River in Nebraska while heading back south.
Really, the only obstacle to making this trip happen is my apprehension about being out on the road and exposing myself in places like motels and restaurants. Sure, I could be super-disciplined and do all my own cooking and stuff like that, but in my long experience with road trips I've learned that that gets old fast.
3. Juneau and Haines, Alaska.
Alaska is the one state I have never visited at all. For my first time there I'm looking at the region that includes Juneau and Haines, towns separated by about 75 miles of water with several state marine parks along its length. I'm thinking that would be a plausible and fascinating one- or two-night trip in a touring boat.
Sadly, this trip almost certainly cannot happen this year. Driving out there is out of the question because I'd have to go through Canada and the Canadian border is closed these days. Flying there would make me dependent on the equipment rental industry there for a boat and gear, and it appears that it's largely closed this season because of COVID-19 concerns.
Maybe next year, maybe the following year. Maybe I could piggyback it onto my trip to the Columbia Gorge one summer, although my investigation of that option has revealed a sobering reality: when looking at the driving route from Hood River, Oregon, to Haines, Alaska, on the Google Map, I discovered that the distance is 1900 miles! Memphis to Hood River is about 2200 miles, and as I learned two years ago, that's a longlonglonglonglonglonglong trip. Continuing on to Haines practically doubles that! And this is the close part of Alaska we're talking about.
Yeah, this trip will likely have to wait until the public health situation is truly back to normal. But it's fun to think about. Until now visiting Alaska has been nothing more than a very abstract idea and my head, and researching some specific locations like Juneau and Haines is helping bring it more into focus.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
1. The spring-fed rivers of southern Missouri.
In the Ozark foothills here are a few streams fed by springs that have been filtered by the karst geology. They include the North Fork of the White River; the Jack's Fork; the Eleven Point River; and the Current River. All are protected under the Ozark Scenic Waterways
This area is no more than three hours from where I live, so I could drive there easily with minimal reliance upon travel industry establishments and be self-contained for several days with food and camping gear.
For paddling, I'd have to dust off one of my old whitewater boats, as these streams are too small and shallow for a surfski with an understern rudder. Since I'd be relying on my bike for running shuttles, I'd have to find sections of river with reasonable-length shuttles--not always easy in remote areas.
I guess the biggest cost of traveling someplace not far from home is the expectation that the place be different from home. Certainly the weather won't be much different: if it's sweltering hot in Memphis, it'll probably be sweltering hot in southern Missouri. On the other hand, these spring-fed rivers have lovely, cool, clear water that screams "SWIM!!" Adam Davis and I were agreeing recently that even though we love our Mississippi River, once in a while you like to paddle on something different, and there's no better contrast to the Mississippi than a stream with clear water.
In any case, close means easy, and there's a good chance I'll be wandering up toward this area sometime this summer.
2. Minnesota, the Dakotas, and Nebraska.
Why Minnesota, the Dakotas, and Nebraska? Well, I have a goal of paddling in all 50 states, and these are four states that I haven't paddled in yet and are located where I'm not so likely to pass through them en route to some other destination. So they'll just have to be my destination.
I've been curious about Lake Superior for the last few years, so I'd likely spend several days along that lake's Minnesota shore. Meanwhile, the Missouri River crosses the North Dakota-South Dakota border south of Bismarck, so some kind of overnight trip on that section would be in order. I could maybe hit a section of the Platte River in Nebraska while heading back south.
Really, the only obstacle to making this trip happen is my apprehension about being out on the road and exposing myself in places like motels and restaurants. Sure, I could be super-disciplined and do all my own cooking and stuff like that, but in my long experience with road trips I've learned that that gets old fast.
3. Juneau and Haines, Alaska.
Alaska is the one state I have never visited at all. For my first time there I'm looking at the region that includes Juneau and Haines, towns separated by about 75 miles of water with several state marine parks along its length. I'm thinking that would be a plausible and fascinating one- or two-night trip in a touring boat.
Sadly, this trip almost certainly cannot happen this year. Driving out there is out of the question because I'd have to go through Canada and the Canadian border is closed these days. Flying there would make me dependent on the equipment rental industry there for a boat and gear, and it appears that it's largely closed this season because of COVID-19 concerns.
Maybe next year, maybe the following year. Maybe I could piggyback it onto my trip to the Columbia Gorge one summer, although my investigation of that option has revealed a sobering reality: when looking at the driving route from Hood River, Oregon, to Haines, Alaska, on the Google Map, I discovered that the distance is 1900 miles! Memphis to Hood River is about 2200 miles, and as I learned two years ago, that's a longlonglonglonglonglonglong trip. Continuing on to Haines practically doubles that! And this is the close part of Alaska we're talking about.
Yeah, this trip will likely have to wait until the public health situation is truly back to normal. But it's fun to think about. Until now visiting Alaska has been nothing more than a very abstract idea and my head, and researching some specific locations like Juneau and Haines is helping bring it more into focus.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Monday, June 22, 2020
Monday photo feature
This past Thursday local real estate broker Fancher Smith was closing the sale of the historic Shrine Building downtown when he spotted me paddling my boat up the harbor. He pulled out his phone and snapped the photo above. He calls the photo "Where's Elmore?"--you know, like "Where's Waldo," except my name is Elmore, not Waldo.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Sunday, June 21, 2020
Glum
Summer has begun, and I'm having a hard time not feeling completely bummed out. All the things I look forward to in the summertime--my trip to the Pacific Northwest, travel to races in my region, baseball, concerts and social events--have vanished into the ether this year.
Make no mistake: I consider myself one of the more fortunate people here in Pandemic Times. But the prospect of spending a sweltering Mid South summer stuck here at home with very little in the way of social and recreational options seems to sandbag my mood a bit more heavily each day.
I was feeling super-sluggish when I got up yesterday morning. The act of going down to the river and getting my boat seemed like a bigger mountain than I could possibly climb. But I went through the motions one task at a time: stretching, putting my gear in the car, driving downtown, getting my boat off the rack, getting in it and starting to paddle... and there I was. Adam Davis met me down at the cobblestones, and we headed up the Mississippi, and soon I was feeling comfortable and fluid again.
We paddled maybe halfway up the Greenbelt Park. A couple of barge rigs were coming downriver, the second of which was producing some good-looking waves, so we paddled out and followed it. The waves were moving just a hair too fast: several times I rode the crest of a wave for a few seconds but was unable to get myself down into the trough. After several minutes of throwing in short, hard sprints, I was gasping for breath, and I had no sweet rides to show for my trouble. But hey... good practice, good training. That stupid maxim we heard as kids is true: "It's better to try and fail than to fail to try."
The Fahrenheit temperature rose into the 90s yesterday, but it wasn't too unbearable. The humidity was moderate and there was a light breeze blowing. Late in the day some clouds moved in, and around two o'clock this morning I woke up and heard torrents of rain pouring down on my roof.
In the wake of that, today has been a pretty nice day: partly to mostly sunny, not too humid, and a few degrees cooler than yesterday with a pleasant breeze.
I felt somewhat lethargic again this morning, but not as bad as yesterday. This time my enthusiasm was on the rise by the time I was headed out the door. Down at the river I got in the boat and did 70 minutes of relaxed paddling. I did several hard workouts in preparation for my "virtual" OICK race last weekend, but now, with no races on the horizon, I'm letting myself do whatever I feel like doing every time I paddle. Until further notice, all workouts will be "play" workouts.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Make no mistake: I consider myself one of the more fortunate people here in Pandemic Times. But the prospect of spending a sweltering Mid South summer stuck here at home with very little in the way of social and recreational options seems to sandbag my mood a bit more heavily each day.
I was feeling super-sluggish when I got up yesterday morning. The act of going down to the river and getting my boat seemed like a bigger mountain than I could possibly climb. But I went through the motions one task at a time: stretching, putting my gear in the car, driving downtown, getting my boat off the rack, getting in it and starting to paddle... and there I was. Adam Davis met me down at the cobblestones, and we headed up the Mississippi, and soon I was feeling comfortable and fluid again.
We paddled maybe halfway up the Greenbelt Park. A couple of barge rigs were coming downriver, the second of which was producing some good-looking waves, so we paddled out and followed it. The waves were moving just a hair too fast: several times I rode the crest of a wave for a few seconds but was unable to get myself down into the trough. After several minutes of throwing in short, hard sprints, I was gasping for breath, and I had no sweet rides to show for my trouble. But hey... good practice, good training. That stupid maxim we heard as kids is true: "It's better to try and fail than to fail to try."
The Fahrenheit temperature rose into the 90s yesterday, but it wasn't too unbearable. The humidity was moderate and there was a light breeze blowing. Late in the day some clouds moved in, and around two o'clock this morning I woke up and heard torrents of rain pouring down on my roof.
In the wake of that, today has been a pretty nice day: partly to mostly sunny, not too humid, and a few degrees cooler than yesterday with a pleasant breeze.
I felt somewhat lethargic again this morning, but not as bad as yesterday. This time my enthusiasm was on the rise by the time I was headed out the door. Down at the river I got in the boat and did 70 minutes of relaxed paddling. I did several hard workouts in preparation for my "virtual" OICK race last weekend, but now, with no races on the horizon, I'm letting myself do whatever I feel like doing every time I paddle. Until further notice, all workouts will be "play" workouts.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Friday, June 19, 2020
On the road again, briefly
On Monday I made a little road trip. Over in Little Rock a few racers gather each Monday afternoon for a "sandlot" race, and I'd gotten a message from Phil Capel encouraging me to join them this week. I hadn't left Memphis since February, and Little Rock is close enough to Memphis (about 140 miles) that it seemed like a trip I could make without too much exposure to lurking viruses. So I decided to go on over there.
It seems like every time I go to Little Rock in the summer months, it's a few degrees hotter than Memphis (and Memphis is plenty hot in the summer). Monday's high in Memphis was around 88 degrees Fahrenheit, but as I was driving into the Little Rock area the temperature display in my car was reading 93 degrees.
I exited Interstate 40 onto I-430 and crossed the Arkansas River. Then I exited at Cantrell Road and followed River Mountain Road to the Little Maumelle River boat launch, where I found a group of paddlers preparing their craft for some racing. Among them were familiar faces like Phil Capel, Phil's son Andy, Andy's wife Ashley, Karen Kesselring, Stephen Lynn, Lou and Charlie Payton, and Robert Orr.
Our course was an up-and-back circuit on the Little Maumelle River, which flows into the Arkansas River just above the I-430 bridge. There was no current to deal with because the water was backed up behind Murray Dam about a mile down the Arkansas. We would start and finish beneath the Two Rivers Park pedestrian bridge, and the turnaround spot was a tree in the middle of the Little Maumelle approximately two and a half miles up.
We did a staggered start, with slower racers going first and quicker ones going last. Soon it was just Andy and me sitting beneath the pedestrian bridge, and when we agreed it was time to go, we went!
We sprinted out for the first 150 meters or so and then settled into a pace a little over 7 miles per hour. I spent most of the first half of the race on Andy's stern wake, trying to conserve energy for some surges later on. Around 3000 meters in I moved up onto Andy's left-side wake, and as our turnaround tree came into view I took the lead so I could make my turn without any unexpected mishaps.
I threw in a surge coming out of the turn, hoping I could open a gap, but Andy covered the move and held onto my stern wake. So I led for a while, trying to paddle as efficiently as possible while the sun beat down. Eventually the Two Rivers Park pedestrian bridge came back into view, and it looked "right there," but knowing it was still at least a mile off, I kept paddling steady.
With maybe 800 meters to go, Andy moved up onto my right-side wake, and took the lead a minute later. I settled onto his side wake and pondered when to make my big move. The local rowing club has a dock about 400 meters out from the finish, and I decided to go as soon as we reached it. I began to paddle hard and pulled even with Andy. Andy responded and I knew I had a real fight on my hands. I dug deep and began to move into the lead an inch at a time.
Once it was down to about 30 meters to go, I had built almost a half-boatlength lead and finally began to believe that I had him--but only if I kept the hammer down. Meanwhile, my body was screaming "Stop! STOP!! I can't take another ten seconds of this!!!!" Somehow I ignored those inner voices and got myself across the line. My G.P.S. device measured the course at 7700 meters (about 4.78 miles), and my time was 39 minutes, 33 seconds.
After racing Andy three times last year, I mentioned in this post that he was getting a little bit harder to beat each time. That trend continued Monday, with Andy finishing just five seconds back at 39:38.
The other racers produced the following results:
Robert Orr 43:28
Dave Grundfest 44:46
Frank Walker 47:45
Jillian Elwart 47:48
Phil Capel 49:51
Karen Kesselring 50:40
Lou and Charlie Payton 56:40
Ashley Capel 59:02
(Stephen Lynn flipped and was unable to finish.)
The water was bathwater warm, but I flipped my boat anyway. My feet could feel cooler water five feet down. After a while I remounted and paddled back to the boat ramp, and returned my boat to the top of my car. I'd now done two races in three days. It felt good to get back to some racing even in an informal setting.
After a bit of conversation I embarked on the trip back home. It was pushing 7 o'clock--suppertime--and I was reminded of one of the main challenges of road-tripping in Pandemic Times. I'm feeling pretty skittish about going into restaurants these days, and I-40 between Memphis and Little Rock doesn't offer many good choices even in normal times. I ended up getting a burger and fries at a Wendy's drive-thru in Forrest City... not what I consider much of a meal. I think if I go to any future Monday afternoon sessions in Little Rock, I'll pack a sandwich or something on my own.
I got up Tuesday morning and did a round of the strength routine (again with no dips, as I'm still having this puzzling achiness in my upper arms). Then I met Joe, and our relaxed loop of the harbor felt good after all that intensity. On Wednesday I enjoyed a well-earned day off. Yesterday I was back in the boat doing a typical 60-minute paddle that included a set of three 8-stroke sprints and some messing around out on the Mississippi.
This morning I did another round of the strength routine. The summer solstice occurs tomorrow, and it looks like we'll have a hot weekend to go with it.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
It seems like every time I go to Little Rock in the summer months, it's a few degrees hotter than Memphis (and Memphis is plenty hot in the summer). Monday's high in Memphis was around 88 degrees Fahrenheit, but as I was driving into the Little Rock area the temperature display in my car was reading 93 degrees.
I exited Interstate 40 onto I-430 and crossed the Arkansas River. Then I exited at Cantrell Road and followed River Mountain Road to the Little Maumelle River boat launch, where I found a group of paddlers preparing their craft for some racing. Among them were familiar faces like Phil Capel, Phil's son Andy, Andy's wife Ashley, Karen Kesselring, Stephen Lynn, Lou and Charlie Payton, and Robert Orr.
Our course was an up-and-back circuit on the Little Maumelle River, which flows into the Arkansas River just above the I-430 bridge. There was no current to deal with because the water was backed up behind Murray Dam about a mile down the Arkansas. We would start and finish beneath the Two Rivers Park pedestrian bridge, and the turnaround spot was a tree in the middle of the Little Maumelle approximately two and a half miles up.
We did a staggered start, with slower racers going first and quicker ones going last. Soon it was just Andy and me sitting beneath the pedestrian bridge, and when we agreed it was time to go, we went!
We sprinted out for the first 150 meters or so and then settled into a pace a little over 7 miles per hour. I spent most of the first half of the race on Andy's stern wake, trying to conserve energy for some surges later on. Around 3000 meters in I moved up onto Andy's left-side wake, and as our turnaround tree came into view I took the lead so I could make my turn without any unexpected mishaps.
I threw in a surge coming out of the turn, hoping I could open a gap, but Andy covered the move and held onto my stern wake. So I led for a while, trying to paddle as efficiently as possible while the sun beat down. Eventually the Two Rivers Park pedestrian bridge came back into view, and it looked "right there," but knowing it was still at least a mile off, I kept paddling steady.
With maybe 800 meters to go, Andy moved up onto my right-side wake, and took the lead a minute later. I settled onto his side wake and pondered when to make my big move. The local rowing club has a dock about 400 meters out from the finish, and I decided to go as soon as we reached it. I began to paddle hard and pulled even with Andy. Andy responded and I knew I had a real fight on my hands. I dug deep and began to move into the lead an inch at a time.
Once it was down to about 30 meters to go, I had built almost a half-boatlength lead and finally began to believe that I had him--but only if I kept the hammer down. Meanwhile, my body was screaming "Stop! STOP!! I can't take another ten seconds of this!!!!" Somehow I ignored those inner voices and got myself across the line. My G.P.S. device measured the course at 7700 meters (about 4.78 miles), and my time was 39 minutes, 33 seconds.
After racing Andy three times last year, I mentioned in this post that he was getting a little bit harder to beat each time. That trend continued Monday, with Andy finishing just five seconds back at 39:38.
The other racers produced the following results:
Robert Orr 43:28
Dave Grundfest 44:46
Frank Walker 47:45
Jillian Elwart 47:48
Phil Capel 49:51
Karen Kesselring 50:40
Lou and Charlie Payton 56:40
Ashley Capel 59:02
(Stephen Lynn flipped and was unable to finish.)
The water was bathwater warm, but I flipped my boat anyway. My feet could feel cooler water five feet down. After a while I remounted and paddled back to the boat ramp, and returned my boat to the top of my car. I'd now done two races in three days. It felt good to get back to some racing even in an informal setting.
After a bit of conversation I embarked on the trip back home. It was pushing 7 o'clock--suppertime--and I was reminded of one of the main challenges of road-tripping in Pandemic Times. I'm feeling pretty skittish about going into restaurants these days, and I-40 between Memphis and Little Rock doesn't offer many good choices even in normal times. I ended up getting a burger and fries at a Wendy's drive-thru in Forrest City... not what I consider much of a meal. I think if I go to any future Monday afternoon sessions in Little Rock, I'll pack a sandwich or something on my own.
I got up Tuesday morning and did a round of the strength routine (again with no dips, as I'm still having this puzzling achiness in my upper arms). Then I met Joe, and our relaxed loop of the harbor felt good after all that intensity. On Wednesday I enjoyed a well-earned day off. Yesterday I was back in the boat doing a typical 60-minute paddle that included a set of three 8-stroke sprints and some messing around out on the Mississippi.
This morning I did another round of the strength routine. The summer solstice occurs tomorrow, and it looks like we'll have a hot weekend to go with it.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
Now playing
The "virtual" race I did this past Saturday has turned into a video project. This short film is about the storied past, the "virtual" present, and the hopeful future of canoe and kayak racing on the Mississippi River at Memphis.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Monday, June 15, 2020
Monday photo feature
The Wolf River originates in northern Mississippi, flows north into Tennessee, and then flows westward across Fayette and Shelby Counties and finally meets the Mississippi River just north of downtown Memphis.
I shot this photo last week while riding my bike on the Greenline, a bike trail that runs through the heart of Memphis atop an old Louisville & Nashville Railroad bed. The Greenline crosses the Wolf River on the east side of town near the Shelby County Penal Farm.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Sunday, June 14, 2020
Virtually racing
We lucked out with the weather for yesterday's "virtual" Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. The morning was sunny and pleasant, the humidity was down, and the wind was light, giving me hope that I could submit a decent time. I loaded up my boat and headed down to the historic cobblestones on the Memphis riverfront.
I'd invited people to join me on social media, and I ended up having two takers, as Adam Davis and Scott Andrews arrived with their boats. We lined up with a pair of utility poles on the cobblestones, from which we would paddle north in the harbor for 2500 meters, make a turn around a concrete structure by the old LaFarge plant, and return to where we'd started to complete the 5000-meter course.
Somebody yelled GO!, and off we went. Adam and I were neck-and-neck out front, and I settled onto his right-side wake, where I would spend most of the first kilometer. We moved along at around seven and a half miles per hour.
Once we'd passed beneath the Hernando DeSoto Bridge I moved into the lead and pushed the pace up to around 7.8 or 7.9. I knew I couldn't sustain that for all of the remaining 4000 meters but I was hoping I could break contact. By the time we reached Harbortown Marina I had a lead of three or four boatlengths.
The turnaround spot came into view: the concrete structure for loading barges next to the old LaFarge plant. I made a beeline for it. The Mississippi River has been dropping this week, but with a level of 22.2 feet on the Memphis gauge there was still ample room to made a high-radius turn and head back south.
As I got the boat back up to speed I hoped to maintain 7.1 or 7.2 mph the rest of the way. I tried to relax and take the best strokes I could. I was starting to feel taxed but felt certain I had one more good mile in me. Once I was back south of the HDB I was hoping I could break 25 minutes. As I passed beneath the monorail bridge I began my final charge to the finish, nudging the speed up around 8.0 mph. I eyed my watch as the seconds ticked by, closer and closer to the 25-minute mark... and then past it. I had to settle for a time of 25:12.
I brought my boat around to watch the other two come in. Adam completed a respectable effort with a time of 26:28. Scott was paddling a much slower boat but was undaunted by the challenge as he came in at 36:51.
It felt good to race again, even if it was a rinky-dink affair compared to a real OICK race.
Today I waited until the afternoon to paddle. It was another sunny day, warmer than yesterday, but still not the blistering heat for which Memphis summers are famous. I paddled mostly easy for 60 minutes.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
I'd invited people to join me on social media, and I ended up having two takers, as Adam Davis and Scott Andrews arrived with their boats. We lined up with a pair of utility poles on the cobblestones, from which we would paddle north in the harbor for 2500 meters, make a turn around a concrete structure by the old LaFarge plant, and return to where we'd started to complete the 5000-meter course.
Somebody yelled GO!, and off we went. Adam and I were neck-and-neck out front, and I settled onto his right-side wake, where I would spend most of the first kilometer. We moved along at around seven and a half miles per hour.
Once we'd passed beneath the Hernando DeSoto Bridge I moved into the lead and pushed the pace up to around 7.8 or 7.9. I knew I couldn't sustain that for all of the remaining 4000 meters but I was hoping I could break contact. By the time we reached Harbortown Marina I had a lead of three or four boatlengths.
The turnaround spot came into view: the concrete structure for loading barges next to the old LaFarge plant. I made a beeline for it. The Mississippi River has been dropping this week, but with a level of 22.2 feet on the Memphis gauge there was still ample room to made a high-radius turn and head back south.
As I got the boat back up to speed I hoped to maintain 7.1 or 7.2 mph the rest of the way. I tried to relax and take the best strokes I could. I was starting to feel taxed but felt certain I had one more good mile in me. Once I was back south of the HDB I was hoping I could break 25 minutes. As I passed beneath the monorail bridge I began my final charge to the finish, nudging the speed up around 8.0 mph. I eyed my watch as the seconds ticked by, closer and closer to the 25-minute mark... and then past it. I had to settle for a time of 25:12.
I brought my boat around to watch the other two come in. Adam completed a respectable effort with a time of 26:28. Scott was paddling a much slower boat but was undaunted by the challenge as he came in at 36:51.
It felt good to race again, even if it was a rinky-dink affair compared to a real OICK race.
Today I waited until the afternoon to paddle. It was another sunny day, warmer than yesterday, but still not the blistering heat for which Memphis summers are famous. I paddled mostly easy for 60 minutes.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
Friday, June 12, 2020
Trying to get stoked for a "virtual" race
In most respects, the Memphis area got treated gently by what was left of Tropical Storm Cristobal. I watched the Internet radar and the heaviest rain seemed to avoid the city. By mid-morning Tuesday the rain had moved out and we had a day of warm, muggy weather. Then on Wednesday some cooler, drier air moved in and the rest of the week has been lovely.
I did a round of the strength routine Tuesday morning, once again without the dips. I'm still trying to manage the achiness in my biceps/shoulder area. After that I did a loop of the harbor with Joe.
A somewhat strong west wind blew all day Wednesday as Cristobal's southern portion moved through. I hadn't planned to paddle on Wednesday, but by lunchtime I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, there were some viable downwind conditions on the westward-flowing section of the Mississippi River below downtown Memphis. So around 3 o'clock I put my V10 Sport surfski on the car and drove across the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge to where there's access to the river from the Big River Trail.
I put my boat in the water beneath the Harahan Bridge and headed downstream. As I rounded the big bend to the right I was hoping to find some good swells, but as it turned out there wasn't much more than some chop. So there would be no sweet rides, and I spent the next hour trying to get the boat moving on small bumps and stuff like that.
I now turn my attention to the "virtual" Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. As I mentioned last week, I've laid out a 5000-meter course in the harbor:
The course starts and finishes at the magenta line in the bottom left corner, and the turnaround spot is marked in the upper right corner.
This morning I paddled in the harbor and did five 12-stroke sprints, and I also spray-painted a marker on my turnaround landmark so that anybody who wants to join me can recognize it.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
I did a round of the strength routine Tuesday morning, once again without the dips. I'm still trying to manage the achiness in my biceps/shoulder area. After that I did a loop of the harbor with Joe.
A somewhat strong west wind blew all day Wednesday as Cristobal's southern portion moved through. I hadn't planned to paddle on Wednesday, but by lunchtime I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, there were some viable downwind conditions on the westward-flowing section of the Mississippi River below downtown Memphis. So around 3 o'clock I put my V10 Sport surfski on the car and drove across the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge to where there's access to the river from the Big River Trail.
I put my boat in the water beneath the Harahan Bridge and headed downstream. As I rounded the big bend to the right I was hoping to find some good swells, but as it turned out there wasn't much more than some chop. So there would be no sweet rides, and I spent the next hour trying to get the boat moving on small bumps and stuff like that.
I now turn my attention to the "virtual" Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. As I mentioned last week, I've laid out a 5000-meter course in the harbor:
The course starts and finishes at the magenta line in the bottom left corner, and the turnaround spot is marked in the upper right corner.
This morning I paddled in the harbor and did five 12-stroke sprints, and I also spray-painted a marker on my turnaround landmark so that anybody who wants to join me can recognize it.
For more information on what this blog is about, click here.
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