Lee Sanders of Nashville, Tennessee, races slalom on Alabama's Mulberry Fork of the Black Warrior River in the spring of 1997.
Monday, August 28, 2017
Monday photo feature
Lee Sanders of Nashville, Tennessee, races slalom on Alabama's Mulberry Fork of the Black Warrior River in the spring of 1997.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Heeding my body's message
Yesterday I was still feeling fatigued from the Thursday evening sprints and I went down to the river intending to do an easy 60-minute paddle. But as I was leaving the harbor there was a barge rig coming upriver creating some good-looking waves, and no paddler in his right mind can pass up the opportunity to surf. So I ferried out there and threw down the necessary sprints to get some good rides.
Other than that I kept the intensity pretty low and figured that by today I'd be rested up enough to do a good workout. And as I headed down to the river this morning I was feeling ready to go. But my body wasn't keen on doing what I'd planned.
After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I planned to do six half-mile pieces at an average speed of around 7.5 miles per hour, with four to five minutes recovery in between. But I was hurting big-time by the fourth one and I ended up quitting after the fifth. I'm usually quite consistent during workouts like this, but today my times were sort of all over the place: 4:08, 3:49, 4:01, 3:55, and 4:03.
I don't think this is something I need to get all worried about; I think my body was simply telling me it needed more rest than I'd given it lately, and so I listened. Part of being an athlete is knowing when it's best to deviate from the planned training regimen.
Other than that I kept the intensity pretty low and figured that by today I'd be rested up enough to do a good workout. And as I headed down to the river this morning I was feeling ready to go. But my body wasn't keen on doing what I'd planned.
After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I planned to do six half-mile pieces at an average speed of around 7.5 miles per hour, with four to five minutes recovery in between. But I was hurting big-time by the fourth one and I ended up quitting after the fifth. I'm usually quite consistent during workouts like this, but today my times were sort of all over the place: 4:08, 3:49, 4:01, 3:55, and 4:03.
I don't think this is something I need to get all worried about; I think my body was simply telling me it needed more rest than I'd given it lately, and so I listened. Part of being an athlete is knowing when it's best to deviate from the planned training regimen.
Friday, August 25, 2017
On the motion of celestial bodies and my own body
As the eclipse was moving across the greater Memphis area on Monday I was out on the Mississippi River. This area was not in the path of totality, but the moon was to block 93 to 94 percent of the sun's rays, the closest thing to a total eclipse I've ever seen. I put my Go Pro camera on the boat and aimed it high enough (I thought) to capture the sun in the sky. I wasn't expecting any photographic miracles from a Go Pro camera, but I was hoping that with the shutter clicking every ten seconds, I might get something interesting.
Well, that endeavor was basically a bust, as it turned out I didn't have the camera pointed high enough after all. I also overestimated how dark it would get: as the eclipse peaked it was sort of dim, but not really dark. 6 to 7 percent of the sun's light is still a lot of light, it turned out. Here I am hanging out just above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge as the eclipse peaked:
I was hoping the bridge lights would come on, but they didn't. But I did get some looks at the sun through my protective glasses, and that was interesting. And even a bad time on the river is worthwhile in my book.
On Tuesday I paddled with Joe for the first time in quite a few weeks. We did our usual loop of the harbor in 80 minutes or so. I did the current strength routine on Monday and Wednesday.
All told, 2017 has been injury-free for me, which is to say that I haven't had any ailments that have kept me out of the boat. But I've had periods where I've dealt with tightness and soreness, and I'm going through such a period right now. My lower back has been quite sore for a few weeks now, particularly first thing in the morning. As I mentioned recently, I think that nationals course up in Iowa was tough on it.
I've also been tight in my entire right side for at least several months. I suspect it's related to the plantar fasciitis in my right foot. I haven't mentioned the foot condition in a while--lately it's been mild--but it's still there.
My main strategy to cope with it all has been to stretch thoroughly almost every day and to be "mindful," to use a current buzzword, of my entire body as I go through each day. I've been feeling a certain fatigue since I got home from my trip last week, and I think it's largely mental, the impact of a long season. As I said on Sunday, I'm looking to attend two more races this year, and I hope I'll have the energy to give them my best.
Last night I went out to Shelby Farms for Thursday evening sprints, and my results were mostly encouraging. My form felt a bit sloppy during at least two of the sprints, but I was pleased with the way my body responded to the demand of four 500ish-meter sprints followed by a fast almost-two-mile lap of the lake. My sprint times were consistent--around two minutes, fifteen seconds for each.
My lower back was as stiff as ever when I woke up this morning. In the late morning I stretched as much of my body as I could and then did another round of the strength routine. I'm still sore but feel a greater range of motion. And that's the goal on so many levels: stay in motion.
Well, that endeavor was basically a bust, as it turned out I didn't have the camera pointed high enough after all. I also overestimated how dark it would get: as the eclipse peaked it was sort of dim, but not really dark. 6 to 7 percent of the sun's light is still a lot of light, it turned out. Here I am hanging out just above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge as the eclipse peaked:
I was hoping the bridge lights would come on, but they didn't. But I did get some looks at the sun through my protective glasses, and that was interesting. And even a bad time on the river is worthwhile in my book.
On Tuesday I paddled with Joe for the first time in quite a few weeks. We did our usual loop of the harbor in 80 minutes or so. I did the current strength routine on Monday and Wednesday.
All told, 2017 has been injury-free for me, which is to say that I haven't had any ailments that have kept me out of the boat. But I've had periods where I've dealt with tightness and soreness, and I'm going through such a period right now. My lower back has been quite sore for a few weeks now, particularly first thing in the morning. As I mentioned recently, I think that nationals course up in Iowa was tough on it.
I've also been tight in my entire right side for at least several months. I suspect it's related to the plantar fasciitis in my right foot. I haven't mentioned the foot condition in a while--lately it's been mild--but it's still there.
My main strategy to cope with it all has been to stretch thoroughly almost every day and to be "mindful," to use a current buzzword, of my entire body as I go through each day. I've been feeling a certain fatigue since I got home from my trip last week, and I think it's largely mental, the impact of a long season. As I said on Sunday, I'm looking to attend two more races this year, and I hope I'll have the energy to give them my best.
Last night I went out to Shelby Farms for Thursday evening sprints, and my results were mostly encouraging. My form felt a bit sloppy during at least two of the sprints, but I was pleased with the way my body responded to the demand of four 500ish-meter sprints followed by a fast almost-two-mile lap of the lake. My sprint times were consistent--around two minutes, fifteen seconds for each.
My lower back was as stiff as ever when I woke up this morning. In the late morning I stretched as much of my body as I could and then did another round of the strength routine. I'm still sore but feel a greater range of motion. And that's the goal on so many levels: stay in motion.
Monday, August 21, 2017
Monday photo feature
Calvin Hassel of Grand Island, Nebraska, seen here paddling in the bow with Bill Torongo manning the stern, is a living legend of North American style marathon canoe racing. When I conducted this interview with him in 2005, he had won 38 USCA national titles in solo and tandem classes. By now the total must surely top 50.
Hassel fell short of adding to the total at the 2017 nationals at Dubuque, Iowa, a week ago, while a Michigan paddler named Mike Davis looked like his heir apparent. Hassel took second to Davis's first in the C1 class, and Davis and Kyle Stonehouse won the C2 class convincingly over Hassel and Torongo. Davis and his wife Rebecca teamed up to win the C2 Mixed class, in which Hassel did not race this year.
So even a living legend is not immortal. But in a career spanning several decades Hassel has given this rather obscure discipline that is not contested internationally a bona-fide superstar.
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Race schedule update
Here's a look at what's left of my 2017 race season. The races listed are the ones that have been on my radar; I will most likely make it to two of them--the one in Louisiana on September 9 and the one in Mississippi on October 7. I think I'm at my best in races that are less than an hour, and these two meet that criterion.
September
2 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. A 12-mile race down the Mississippi. Register
3 Rock Island Paddle Rampage. Center Hill Reservoir near Walling, Tennessee. A 14-mile flatwater race. Register
9 Lower Atchafalaya River Sprint Race. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. An 6-mile race on this major distributary of the Mississippi River. Register
16 Chucktown Showdown. Charleston Harbor, Charleston, South Carolina. A 9-mile offshore race. Register
23 Ouachita River Rat Race. Ouachita River, West Monroe, Louisiana. A 6.5-mile race on a Class I river. Register
October
7 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
September
2 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. A 12-mile race down the Mississippi. Register
3 Rock Island Paddle Rampage. Center Hill Reservoir near Walling, Tennessee. A 14-mile flatwater race. Register
9 Lower Atchafalaya River Sprint Race. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. An 6-mile race on this major distributary of the Mississippi River. Register
16 Chucktown Showdown. Charleston Harbor, Charleston, South Carolina. A 9-mile offshore race. Register
23 Ouachita River Rat Race. Ouachita River, West Monroe, Louisiana. A 6.5-mile race on a Class I river. Register
October
7 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
Riding out the summer
It took me all week, but I'm feeling more or less back to normal after the big racing trip. I did the new strength routine just one time through on Wednesday, and then did it the normal two times through on Friday.
In the boat I haven't done anything special; I'm just trying to settle back into a normal routine. On Thursday, yesterday, and today I paddled for 60 minutes, warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints and then paddling as hard or as easy as I felt like paddling. All three days I paddled strong at least some of the time. As I was paddling out of the harbor today there was a Corps of Engineers rig churning upriver--it looked like a dredge or something similar--and there were some nice glassy-smooth waves coming off her bow. I got several brief but fun rides.
It's been pretty hot since I got home. For most of my trip the weather was delightfully mild with cool, dry air, but the first thing I noticed when I got home last Monday was how much more humid it was in Memphis. It went on to be a pretty typical August week and I hope fall will come sooner rather than later. Doing some re-mount practice has helped me cope with it while out paddling: I flip and then just lie there in the cool water for a couple of minutes before re-mounting.
The Mississippi River is settling into its usual low water levels for late summer and fall. The Memphis gauge reading this morning was 1.9 feet, and the forecast has it dropping below zero in several days. High-water periods are fun because of the expanded exploring opportunities, but low water can be nice in its own way. I believe the water is cleaner when the river is low because it's not picking up pollutants in flooded farmland and dump sites and what have you. The water is still muddy--the Mississippi is always muddy--but I think it's a "cleaner" muddy.
When I go out and paddle on the river I see all kinds of little things and most days I don't give them much thought, but once in a while I'll pause to observe some aspect of that environment and appreciate just how beautiful it is. Today that "aspect" was the water as it rushed past the pilings of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. Flowing water, from Class VI mountain creeks down to meandering Class I streams in the flatlands, is just so beautiful. I remember being a summer camper going on canoe trips, thinking that even the easy rivers we paddled were just such pleasant places to spend hot summer days. The older I get the more I appreciate the fact that I still get to do this.
In the boat I haven't done anything special; I'm just trying to settle back into a normal routine. On Thursday, yesterday, and today I paddled for 60 minutes, warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints and then paddling as hard or as easy as I felt like paddling. All three days I paddled strong at least some of the time. As I was paddling out of the harbor today there was a Corps of Engineers rig churning upriver--it looked like a dredge or something similar--and there were some nice glassy-smooth waves coming off her bow. I got several brief but fun rides.
It's been pretty hot since I got home. For most of my trip the weather was delightfully mild with cool, dry air, but the first thing I noticed when I got home last Monday was how much more humid it was in Memphis. It went on to be a pretty typical August week and I hope fall will come sooner rather than later. Doing some re-mount practice has helped me cope with it while out paddling: I flip and then just lie there in the cool water for a couple of minutes before re-mounting.
The Mississippi River is settling into its usual low water levels for late summer and fall. The Memphis gauge reading this morning was 1.9 feet, and the forecast has it dropping below zero in several days. High-water periods are fun because of the expanded exploring opportunities, but low water can be nice in its own way. I believe the water is cleaner when the river is low because it's not picking up pollutants in flooded farmland and dump sites and what have you. The water is still muddy--the Mississippi is always muddy--but I think it's a "cleaner" muddy.
When I go out and paddle on the river I see all kinds of little things and most days I don't give them much thought, but once in a while I'll pause to observe some aspect of that environment and appreciate just how beautiful it is. Today that "aspect" was the water as it rushed past the pilings of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. Flowing water, from Class VI mountain creeks down to meandering Class I streams in the flatlands, is just so beautiful. I remember being a summer camper going on canoe trips, thinking that even the easy rivers we paddled were just such pleasant places to spend hot summer days. The older I get the more I appreciate the fact that I still get to do this.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
A new strength routine
I'm trying to get back into life here at home, and that includes some strength work. Here's my routine for the next little while:
1. Rubber band exercises for arms and shoulders
2. Lunges with dumbbells
3. Dips
4. Lateral abdominals (demonstrated by Michele Ramazza at 3:53 of the last video on this page)
5. Bent-over rows
1. Rubber band exercises for arms and shoulders
2. Lunges with dumbbells
3. Dips
4. Lateral abdominals (demonstrated by Michele Ramazza at 3:53 of the last video on this page)
5. Bent-over rows
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
Recovering; going for all 50
I've been wicked sore in my midsection since I finished the race on Sunday. That course took us against a fair amount of current and through a lot of shallow water, and I think that extra resistance took its toll on my body. I was ready for a recovery paddle today. I did a thorough round of stretching on the dock and then paddled easy for 40 minutes. My core muscles protested, but I'm hopeful that getting some blood flowing in them will speed up the recovery.
Remember my "fifty states project"? By participating in the USCA Nationals at Dubuque I added Iowa to the list of states I've paddled a boat in. I also "solidified" the status of Illinois on the list: I had paddled on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River across from Saint Louis, and on Lake Michigan at Chicago, but when I paddled on Carlyle Reservoir last week it was my first time paddling in the interior of Illinois. It's fussy, I know, but I can be pretty fussy sometimes.
Here's the updated list. States marked with an asterisk (*) are the ones I have merely visited. States marked with a pound sign (#) are the ones I have visited and paddled a boat in. As you can see, Alaska is the only state I haven't yet visited.
Alabama#
Alaska
Arizona*
Arkansas#
California#
Colorado#
Connecticut#
Delaware*
Florida#
Georgia#
Hawaii#
Idaho#
Illinois#
Indiana#
Iowa#
Kansas*
Kentucky#
Louisiana#
Maine*
Maryland#
Massachusetts#
Michigan#
Minnesota*
Mississippi#
Missouri#
Montana#
Nebraska*
Nevada*
New Hampshire#
New Jersey*
New Mexico#
New York#
North Carolina#
North Dakota*
Ohio#
Oklahoma*
Oregon#
Pennsylvania#
Rhode Island#
South Carolina#
South Dakota*
Tennessee#
Texas#
Utah#
Vermont#
Virginia#
Washington#
West Virginia#
Wisconsin#
Wyoming#
Remember my "fifty states project"? By participating in the USCA Nationals at Dubuque I added Iowa to the list of states I've paddled a boat in. I also "solidified" the status of Illinois on the list: I had paddled on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River across from Saint Louis, and on Lake Michigan at Chicago, but when I paddled on Carlyle Reservoir last week it was my first time paddling in the interior of Illinois. It's fussy, I know, but I can be pretty fussy sometimes.
Here's the updated list. States marked with an asterisk (*) are the ones I have merely visited. States marked with a pound sign (#) are the ones I have visited and paddled a boat in. As you can see, Alaska is the only state I haven't yet visited.
Alabama#
Alaska
Arizona*
Arkansas#
California#
Colorado#
Connecticut#
Delaware*
Florida#
Georgia#
Hawaii#
Idaho#
Illinois#
Indiana#
Iowa#
Kansas*
Kentucky#
Louisiana#
Maine*
Maryland#
Massachusetts#
Michigan#
Minnesota*
Mississippi#
Missouri#
Montana#
Nebraska*
Nevada*
New Hampshire#
New Jersey*
New Mexico#
New York#
North Carolina#
North Dakota*
Ohio#
Oklahoma*
Oregon#
Pennsylvania#
Rhode Island#
South Carolina#
South Dakota*
Tennessee#
Texas#
Utah#
Vermont#
Virginia#
Washington#
West Virginia#
Wisconsin#
Wyoming#
Monday, August 14, 2017
Nationals results
Right now I've seen the results for the last day of the USCA Nationals posted online. Eventually the results for the entire event should be posted on the USCA website, and I'll link to them here whenever I see them.
For now I'll post the results of the class I competed in, men's K1 Unlimited. But let me remind you that there were all kinds of boat classes competing over the weekend--everything from North American style marathon canoes to outrigger canoes to ICF-spec kayaks to surf skis to standup paddleboards. If you are a canoe and kayak racer of any kind, the USCA Nationals is an event you should attend at least once.
Here are the results of my class:
Note: Mike Herbert is in fact 56 years old, but he elected to compete in the "Open" (18-39) age group. Mike's a guy who likes to try to beat 'em all, and he often succeeds, as he did yesterday. His time of 1:28:53 was the fastest time recorded on the course for the entire weekend.
For now I'll post the results of the class I competed in, men's K1 Unlimited. But let me remind you that there were all kinds of boat classes competing over the weekend--everything from North American style marathon canoes to outrigger canoes to ICF-spec kayaks to surf skis to standup paddleboards. If you are a canoe and kayak racer of any kind, the USCA Nationals is an event you should attend at least once.
Here are the results of my class:
Men's K1 Unlimited, Sunday, August 13, 2017
1 Herbert, Mike (18-39) 1 hour, 28 minutes, 53 seconds
2 Peterson, Ryan (18-39) 1:29:09
3 Florov, Kiril (50-59) 1:37:36
4 Holmes, Elmore (40-49) 1:37:47
5 Glover, Dale (40-49) 1:41:08
6 Schnelle, Jeff (50-59) 1:41:55
7 Westrum, Robert (50-59) 1:43:45
8 Lucas, Hansel (18-39) 1:43:54
9 Sweeney, Michael (60-64) 1:44:21
10 Evans, Jason (18-39) 1:45:27
11 Taylor, Phillip (50-59) 1:49:37
12 Stover, John (75 and over) 1:52:57
13 Woodruff, William (65-69) 1:54:12
14 Baumert, Daniel (60-64) 1:54:17
15 Leszek, Ed (70-74) 1:54:32
16 Ammon, Brian (50-59) 1:55:03
17 Scofield, Ralph (70-74) 2:03:27
18 Friedrichsen, Jed (60-64) 2:07:30
19 Knight, Stephen (65-69) 2:17:33
Monday photo feature
Adam Davis of Memphis competes in the Music City SUP and Kayak Race on Percy Priest Reservoir at Nashville back on July 29. Davis finished a respectable fourth place among all kayaks. Photo by Hector Mendoza.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Competing for a national title
I got up bright and early this morning, and after making a quick breakfast and breaking camp I headed over to the start/finish area to prepare my boat and gear for battle. To me the "known quantities" among the competition were Mike Herbert of Rogers, Arkansas; Kiril Florov of Chicago, Illinois; and Scott Cummins of Louisville, Kentucky. All three had raced K1 ICF yesterday and I had a pretty good idea what to expect from them today; plus, Scott had beaten me narrowly in Nashville two weeks ago and I had returned the favor on Fontana Reservoir last weekend, so I figured we'd be keeping each other company for much of today's race with the hope of claiming the tiebreaker.
Here's an aerial view of the course:
That's Chaplain Schmitt Island at the top, with the Mississippi River flowing north to south to the right. The island is separated from the rest of Dubuque by Lake Peosta Channel. The starting line was near the north end of Chaplain Schmitt Island, and we would follow the white line down Lake Peosta Channel to where it re-enters the Mississippi, then down the river to a buoy turn, then back up the Mississippi and up along the east side of the island back to where we'd started. Then we would repeat that loop. Then, finally, we would do a lap of the island only, without going downriver to do that buoy turn a third time. The advertised total distance was 13 miles.
Other classes competing today were men's solo canoe, women's tandem canoe, and standup paddle board. The classes started at five-minute intervals and K1 Unlimited was nearly the last to start, so we would be catching up with a lot of boats in other classes as the race went on. We watched the classes start before us, and then it was our turn. When the gun went off I did the same thing I always try to do: get a good quick start and establish good position early.
Mike and Kiril took the early lead, as I'd expected, but I was surprised when they didn't leave me in the dust right away. I was able to sit on Mike's left-side wake for several minutes (Mike later told me that since he'd already raced hard both Friday and yesterday, he'd planned to race conservatively today). Scott enjoyed an even better position on the "diamond" between Mike and Kiril. Over to the right a guy none of us knew (Ryan Peterson of Minnesota, we later found out) was matching our early pace in a training-weight surf ski with an overstern rudder.
Before long Mike and Kiril broke contact with Scott and me, and my old nemesis-friend and I settled into our familiar wake-trading routine. Ryan managed to stay with the leaders, and Scott and I figured that (a) he was legitimate, or (b) we'd catch back up to him later. By the time we had paddled out of Lake Peosta Channel onto the main Mississippi, heading down to the buoy turn for the first time, Mike and Ryan had dropped Kiril and Scott and I discussed possible tactics for reeling Kiril in.
We reached the buoy and had to make the turn in heavy traffic because we'd caught up with some of the slower boats in the classes that had started before us. After a bit of mayhem and chaos we were headed back upriver. We worked our way up the river-right bank until we were back at the lower end of Chaplain Schmitt Island, and then we continued up the main river channel, rounding the island in a counterclockwise direction. At this point Scott was sitting on my stern wake, and shortly after we'd passed under the Dubuque-Wisconsin Bridge, we heard an awful CRUNCH! Scott's boat had hit something and he moaned in anguish over what the damage might be. But he seemed to be keeping the pace just fine and I advised him to "race now, fret over equipment later."
We reached the top of the island and turned into Lake Peosta Channel. We had just caught several C1 racers and I cut to their inside so I could catch a bit of fast-moving water that I knew about along the bank. Scott went to their outside, and in a matter of seconds I had a four- or five-boatlength lead on him. A minute later I was crossing the start/finish line for the first time and Scott was nowhere in my peripheral vision. Even having caught the fast water and put a couple of boats between us, I felt that I'd dropped Scott too easily and I wondered whether he was okay.
I soldiered on without my drafting partner. I was now in fourth place overall in the K1 Unlimited class behind Mike, Ryan, and Kiril. There were still many boats from the other classes ahead of me and Kiril was the only one of those three I could see. As I approached the buoy turn for the second time I saw the first two coming back upstream and Ryan was leading with Mike sitting on his wake. Once I'd rounded the buoy myself I finally had a chance see where Scott was, but he was nowhere in sight. Evidently he'd dropped out of the race.
No other K1 Unlimited racers were anywhere near me and I tried to paddle as efficiently as I could, keeping the boat moving while conserving energy. The course was taxing because of the bottom drag in the many shallow sections, but I felt I could continue a solid pace for what was left of the race. With Mike, Ryan, and Kiril all solidly ahead of me it felt as though fourth place was the way it was going to be for me.
When I crossed the start/finish line the second time there was just that island-only lap left to go--a distance of about two miles. Scott was over on the bank rooting me on, so obviously his equipment problems had been more than just a nuisance. It was here that I realized that I'd made up some ground on Kiril, and that maybe a third-place finish was not so farfetched for me after all. As we made our last trip down Lake Peosta Channel I tried to pick up the pace a bit to see if I could reel Kiril in. Then, down where this channel rejoins the main Mississippi, things got even more interesting. There was a big mud flat here and one could choose to go either inside of it, close to the island, or outside of it. Kiril chose to go outside. That was the slower way to go, because of both the extra distance and the greater exposure to the Mississippi's current, but it was also the safer way because the inside route was mere inches deep in places. I think Kiril thought he had third place in the bag and was being conservative.
I, meanwhile, had nothing to lose. I knew the bottom was all mud in this area and there was little chance of damaging my boat, and I also knew that if I followed Kiril around the outside of the mud flat I would have almost no chance of catching him. So inside I went. There was one spot where my paddle blades sank in the mud, but otherwise I came through unscathed. And once I was headed upriver along the eastern side of the island, there was Kiril just a handful of boatlengths up ahead. The race was on.
I began to throw in surges at the rate of "10 strokes on, 20 strokes off." It was exhausting, but I could tell that I was a little bit closer after each surge, so I stuck with it. Finally, right as we reached the upstream end of Lake Peosta Channel, with some 600 meters to go to the finish, I was right on the left side of his stern. He saw me as we made the turn and realized he'd better put the pedal to the metal. He opened a boat length on me, but I knew he couldn't sprint hard for all of the remaining distance, and I worked hard to keep it close. With maybe 200 meters to go I was back on his stern, but he threw in another hard sprint and opened a gap once again. By the time we were within 50 meters my muscles were screaming and I knew he had me.
Back on dry land I commiserated with Scott about his having to drop out. His rudder had taken the hit, it turned out, and it was barely functional and snagging a lot of grass to boot. Scott was pretty philosophical about it--equipment problems are a part of any sport, after all.
Mike had taken the overall title, beating Ryan by about 20 seconds. It was the third national title in as many days for Mr. Herbert: he and his daughter Savanna had won the C2 Standard Mixed class on Friday, and he had won the K1 ICF class yesterday. I, meanwhile, was the top finisher in the 40-49 age group, and as a result I was given a first-place medal and a shirt that says its wearer is... a national champion!!!! I never thought I'd see the day...
The race organizers said they will be posting the results soon. I will link to them here whenever I find them.
Here's an aerial view of the course:
Other classes competing today were men's solo canoe, women's tandem canoe, and standup paddle board. The classes started at five-minute intervals and K1 Unlimited was nearly the last to start, so we would be catching up with a lot of boats in other classes as the race went on. We watched the classes start before us, and then it was our turn. When the gun went off I did the same thing I always try to do: get a good quick start and establish good position early.
Mike and Kiril took the early lead, as I'd expected, but I was surprised when they didn't leave me in the dust right away. I was able to sit on Mike's left-side wake for several minutes (Mike later told me that since he'd already raced hard both Friday and yesterday, he'd planned to race conservatively today). Scott enjoyed an even better position on the "diamond" between Mike and Kiril. Over to the right a guy none of us knew (Ryan Peterson of Minnesota, we later found out) was matching our early pace in a training-weight surf ski with an overstern rudder.
Before long Mike and Kiril broke contact with Scott and me, and my old nemesis-friend and I settled into our familiar wake-trading routine. Ryan managed to stay with the leaders, and Scott and I figured that (a) he was legitimate, or (b) we'd catch back up to him later. By the time we had paddled out of Lake Peosta Channel onto the main Mississippi, heading down to the buoy turn for the first time, Mike and Ryan had dropped Kiril and Scott and I discussed possible tactics for reeling Kiril in.
We reached the buoy and had to make the turn in heavy traffic because we'd caught up with some of the slower boats in the classes that had started before us. After a bit of mayhem and chaos we were headed back upriver. We worked our way up the river-right bank until we were back at the lower end of Chaplain Schmitt Island, and then we continued up the main river channel, rounding the island in a counterclockwise direction. At this point Scott was sitting on my stern wake, and shortly after we'd passed under the Dubuque-Wisconsin Bridge, we heard an awful CRUNCH! Scott's boat had hit something and he moaned in anguish over what the damage might be. But he seemed to be keeping the pace just fine and I advised him to "race now, fret over equipment later."
We reached the top of the island and turned into Lake Peosta Channel. We had just caught several C1 racers and I cut to their inside so I could catch a bit of fast-moving water that I knew about along the bank. Scott went to their outside, and in a matter of seconds I had a four- or five-boatlength lead on him. A minute later I was crossing the start/finish line for the first time and Scott was nowhere in my peripheral vision. Even having caught the fast water and put a couple of boats between us, I felt that I'd dropped Scott too easily and I wondered whether he was okay.
I soldiered on without my drafting partner. I was now in fourth place overall in the K1 Unlimited class behind Mike, Ryan, and Kiril. There were still many boats from the other classes ahead of me and Kiril was the only one of those three I could see. As I approached the buoy turn for the second time I saw the first two coming back upstream and Ryan was leading with Mike sitting on his wake. Once I'd rounded the buoy myself I finally had a chance see where Scott was, but he was nowhere in sight. Evidently he'd dropped out of the race.
No other K1 Unlimited racers were anywhere near me and I tried to paddle as efficiently as I could, keeping the boat moving while conserving energy. The course was taxing because of the bottom drag in the many shallow sections, but I felt I could continue a solid pace for what was left of the race. With Mike, Ryan, and Kiril all solidly ahead of me it felt as though fourth place was the way it was going to be for me.
When I crossed the start/finish line the second time there was just that island-only lap left to go--a distance of about two miles. Scott was over on the bank rooting me on, so obviously his equipment problems had been more than just a nuisance. It was here that I realized that I'd made up some ground on Kiril, and that maybe a third-place finish was not so farfetched for me after all. As we made our last trip down Lake Peosta Channel I tried to pick up the pace a bit to see if I could reel Kiril in. Then, down where this channel rejoins the main Mississippi, things got even more interesting. There was a big mud flat here and one could choose to go either inside of it, close to the island, or outside of it. Kiril chose to go outside. That was the slower way to go, because of both the extra distance and the greater exposure to the Mississippi's current, but it was also the safer way because the inside route was mere inches deep in places. I think Kiril thought he had third place in the bag and was being conservative.
I, meanwhile, had nothing to lose. I knew the bottom was all mud in this area and there was little chance of damaging my boat, and I also knew that if I followed Kiril around the outside of the mud flat I would have almost no chance of catching him. So inside I went. There was one spot where my paddle blades sank in the mud, but otherwise I came through unscathed. And once I was headed upriver along the eastern side of the island, there was Kiril just a handful of boatlengths up ahead. The race was on.
I began to throw in surges at the rate of "10 strokes on, 20 strokes off." It was exhausting, but I could tell that I was a little bit closer after each surge, so I stuck with it. Finally, right as we reached the upstream end of Lake Peosta Channel, with some 600 meters to go to the finish, I was right on the left side of his stern. He saw me as we made the turn and realized he'd better put the pedal to the metal. He opened a boat length on me, but I knew he couldn't sprint hard for all of the remaining distance, and I worked hard to keep it close. With maybe 200 meters to go I was back on his stern, but he threw in another hard sprint and opened a gap once again. By the time we were within 50 meters my muscles were screaming and I knew he had me.
Back on dry land I commiserated with Scott about his having to drop out. His rudder had taken the hit, it turned out, and it was barely functional and snagging a lot of grass to boot. Scott was pretty philosophical about it--equipment problems are a part of any sport, after all.
Mike had taken the overall title, beating Ryan by about 20 seconds. It was the third national title in as many days for Mr. Herbert: he and his daughter Savanna had won the C2 Standard Mixed class on Friday, and he had won the K1 ICF class yesterday. I, meanwhile, was the top finisher in the 40-49 age group, and as a result I was given a first-place medal and a shirt that says its wearer is... a national champion!!!! I never thought I'd see the day...
The race organizers said they will be posting the results soon. I will link to them here whenever I find them.
Trying to get back into that racing state of mind
I got up Friday morning and drove from the Quad Cities to Dubuque via the "scenic byway" route along U.S. 67 and U.S. 52. The trip took a couple of hours, and I arrived at the site of the USCA Nationals just as the first day of marathon racing was finishing up. Classes that raced on Friday were mostly mixed tandem in both canoe and kayak.
I picked up my race packet and then went over to the site I'd reserved in the city campground, located across Chaplain Schmitt Island from the race headquarters. I found myself camping in yet another picturesque spot, right on the Mississippi River just upstream of the Dubuque-Wisconsin Bridge.
I spent yesterday morning watching the women's solo canoe, men's tandem canoe, men's tandem kayak, men's ICF kayak, and women's "unlimited" kayak classes. I shot a few pictures and cheered on the people I knew. Once the racing was over I got in my boat and paddled a lap of the course. It seemed to have a little of everything to challenge (torture?) a racer: shallow water, lots of floating grass, squirrelly currents, rocks lurking beneath the surface, and more. The guys who had raced in the K1 ICF class told me it was a very difficult course for their craft but that surf skis like mine should fare better in the K1 Unlimited class the next day.
And so I turned in fairly early last night so I could get up early this morning. The races are starting at 8:30 AM this year--earlier than I typically like to get going, but then again it's nice to have it all over with well before lunchtime.
I picked up my race packet and then went over to the site I'd reserved in the city campground, located across Chaplain Schmitt Island from the race headquarters. I found myself camping in yet another picturesque spot, right on the Mississippi River just upstream of the Dubuque-Wisconsin Bridge.
I spent yesterday morning watching the women's solo canoe, men's tandem canoe, men's tandem kayak, men's ICF kayak, and women's "unlimited" kayak classes. I shot a few pictures and cheered on the people I knew. Once the racing was over I got in my boat and paddled a lap of the course. It seemed to have a little of everything to challenge (torture?) a racer: shallow water, lots of floating grass, squirrelly currents, rocks lurking beneath the surface, and more. The guys who had raced in the K1 ICF class told me it was a very difficult course for their craft but that surf skis like mine should fare better in the K1 Unlimited class the next day.
And so I turned in fairly early last night so I could get up early this morning. The races are starting at 8:30 AM this year--earlier than I typically like to get going, but then again it's nice to have it all over with well before lunchtime.
Friday, August 11, 2017
On to the Midwest
This trip is starting to feel like a reservoir tour.
There is certainly no shortage of reservoirs to choose from, for our nation spent much of the previous century on a veritable drunken spree of dam building. During the first half of this vacation trip I visited Percy Priest, James, Mountain Island, Norman, and Fontana.
When I fled the rain in the mountains Monday I ended up camping at Rock Island State Park, located on a spit of land curiously nestled in between two reservoirs, Great Falls and Center Hill. I first visited this area in the mid 1980s with a summer camp friend whose family owned a cabin on the Collins River, one of the rivers impounded to create Great Falls Reservoir. I immediately found it to be an exceptionally picturesque place: with its rivers and steel-truss bridges and railroad line it reminded me of Hardy, Arkansas, where my family had taken summer trips when I was little. The area was also a haven for lovers of water-sports of all kinds: during the visit I did some water-skiing with my friend's family--that's an obvious thing to do on a reservoir--but we also got to paddle some whitewater!
Great Falls Dam is one of the more interesting dam projects I've ever seen. It was constructed right at the confluence of the Collins and Caney Fork Rivers, at the top of a series of waterfalls. The pool elevation of the resulting reservoir allows water to be dropped through a pipe into a powerhouse at the bottom of the falls. One sad result of the dam is that the falls are dewatered much of the time, but down below the powerhouse is a short stretch of whitewater that includes a couple of world-class playspots before it peters out into Center Hill Reservoir. That's where my camp friend and I had some fun during that mid-80s visit.
This week I had nothing but my surf ski on the car, so I stuck to the flatwater up above the dam. Tuesday morning I put in at a public access on the Collins River and paddled for 80 minutes, going past the dam and a mile or two up the Caney Fork before turning around and going back to where I'd put in. While on the water I did a set of eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals.
With the important business of paddling out of the way it was time to make another step toward the Midwest. I set my sights toward another reservoir, Lake Barkley in southwestern Kentucky. Several hours later I was setting up camp at a place called Eureka Campground, as in "Eureka! This place is actually nice!" It's a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers campground, you see, and Corps campgrounds, while offering all the amenities one could want, like showers and flush-toilets and playgrounds and stuff, tend to be sterile industrial/institutional places. The fact that Eureka is located next to Barkley Dam led me to expect lots of concrete poured over terrain that had been bulldozed into submission.
What I found instead was as nice a developed campground as I've ever seen. My campsite was on a wooded hillside a short walk from the water's edge. The place was certainly landscaped, but tastefully so, like a nice backyard in an established neighborhood or something like that. It didn't hurt that the weather was gorgeous. I consider the Land Between the Lakes area to be in the same part of the country as Memphis, more or less, but there was no hint of the sweltering weather we endured there for most of last month. The sky was clear and the air was cool and crisp, almost like a beautiful day in October. My camping gear was still damp from the soggy places I'd stayed the previous two nights and I was grateful for a chance to get it all dried out for good.
On Wednesday morning I paddled for 70 minutes out on Lake Barkley. My intensity level ranged from easy to the hard side of medium, and I did a set of six 12-stroke sprints in the middle of the session.
By now my goal was to arrive up in Dubuque Friday, so I got out my map and looked for another reservoir along the route. I decided on Carlyle Reservoir, located in south central Illinois just outside a town called (suitably enough) Carlyle. Once there I found myself camping lakeside in another Corps of Engineers campground. This one wasn't as nice as the one at Lake Barkley, but it wasn't bad. Most important was that it had adequate shade. The campground was quite a bit more crowded with RVs than the one at Barkley, but the people seemed nice and reasonably quiet.
I woke up yesterday morning and made myself some breakfast and then got in my boat for a 60-minute paddle. I did four 12-stroke sprints while I was out there.
Once that was over I embarked on the longest stretch of driving for this North-Carolina-to-Iowa leg of the trip: about four and a half hours. I made it to the Quad Cities region (Rock Island and Moline, Illinois, and Davenport and Bettendorf, Iowa) and decided to spring for a motel, whose wi-fi service is allowing me to deliver all this news to you. My body is ready for a break from paddling and I plan to spend today making what looks like a scenic drive along the Mississippi River up to Dubuque.
When I began this trip the North-Carolina-to-Iowa leg looked to be the most arduous, but spreading it out over five days, combined with the still-lovely weather, has made it rather delightful. Yesterday was the only time the driving began to feel like a chore; otherwise I've had the freedom to take my time, drive some secondary roads, take in the sights... all the things you ideally would like to do during a trip across our great nation.
Tomorrow I'll do a short paddle just to get my body loose. My class, "K1 Unlimited," races on Sunday morning. Chances are I won't be back online until Sunday night, when I check into a motel during the long trip home.
There is certainly no shortage of reservoirs to choose from, for our nation spent much of the previous century on a veritable drunken spree of dam building. During the first half of this vacation trip I visited Percy Priest, James, Mountain Island, Norman, and Fontana.
When I fled the rain in the mountains Monday I ended up camping at Rock Island State Park, located on a spit of land curiously nestled in between two reservoirs, Great Falls and Center Hill. I first visited this area in the mid 1980s with a summer camp friend whose family owned a cabin on the Collins River, one of the rivers impounded to create Great Falls Reservoir. I immediately found it to be an exceptionally picturesque place: with its rivers and steel-truss bridges and railroad line it reminded me of Hardy, Arkansas, where my family had taken summer trips when I was little. The area was also a haven for lovers of water-sports of all kinds: during the visit I did some water-skiing with my friend's family--that's an obvious thing to do on a reservoir--but we also got to paddle some whitewater!
Great Falls Dam is one of the more interesting dam projects I've ever seen. It was constructed right at the confluence of the Collins and Caney Fork Rivers, at the top of a series of waterfalls. The pool elevation of the resulting reservoir allows water to be dropped through a pipe into a powerhouse at the bottom of the falls. One sad result of the dam is that the falls are dewatered much of the time, but down below the powerhouse is a short stretch of whitewater that includes a couple of world-class playspots before it peters out into Center Hill Reservoir. That's where my camp friend and I had some fun during that mid-80s visit.
This week I had nothing but my surf ski on the car, so I stuck to the flatwater up above the dam. Tuesday morning I put in at a public access on the Collins River and paddled for 80 minutes, going past the dam and a mile or two up the Caney Fork before turning around and going back to where I'd put in. While on the water I did a set of eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals.
With the important business of paddling out of the way it was time to make another step toward the Midwest. I set my sights toward another reservoir, Lake Barkley in southwestern Kentucky. Several hours later I was setting up camp at a place called Eureka Campground, as in "Eureka! This place is actually nice!" It's a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers campground, you see, and Corps campgrounds, while offering all the amenities one could want, like showers and flush-toilets and playgrounds and stuff, tend to be sterile industrial/institutional places. The fact that Eureka is located next to Barkley Dam led me to expect lots of concrete poured over terrain that had been bulldozed into submission.
What I found instead was as nice a developed campground as I've ever seen. My campsite was on a wooded hillside a short walk from the water's edge. The place was certainly landscaped, but tastefully so, like a nice backyard in an established neighborhood or something like that. It didn't hurt that the weather was gorgeous. I consider the Land Between the Lakes area to be in the same part of the country as Memphis, more or less, but there was no hint of the sweltering weather we endured there for most of last month. The sky was clear and the air was cool and crisp, almost like a beautiful day in October. My camping gear was still damp from the soggy places I'd stayed the previous two nights and I was grateful for a chance to get it all dried out for good.
On Wednesday morning I paddled for 70 minutes out on Lake Barkley. My intensity level ranged from easy to the hard side of medium, and I did a set of six 12-stroke sprints in the middle of the session.
By now my goal was to arrive up in Dubuque Friday, so I got out my map and looked for another reservoir along the route. I decided on Carlyle Reservoir, located in south central Illinois just outside a town called (suitably enough) Carlyle. Once there I found myself camping lakeside in another Corps of Engineers campground. This one wasn't as nice as the one at Lake Barkley, but it wasn't bad. Most important was that it had adequate shade. The campground was quite a bit more crowded with RVs than the one at Barkley, but the people seemed nice and reasonably quiet.
I woke up yesterday morning and made myself some breakfast and then got in my boat for a 60-minute paddle. I did four 12-stroke sprints while I was out there.
Once that was over I embarked on the longest stretch of driving for this North-Carolina-to-Iowa leg of the trip: about four and a half hours. I made it to the Quad Cities region (Rock Island and Moline, Illinois, and Davenport and Bettendorf, Iowa) and decided to spring for a motel, whose wi-fi service is allowing me to deliver all this news to you. My body is ready for a break from paddling and I plan to spend today making what looks like a scenic drive along the Mississippi River up to Dubuque.
When I began this trip the North-Carolina-to-Iowa leg looked to be the most arduous, but spreading it out over five days, combined with the still-lovely weather, has made it rather delightful. Yesterday was the only time the driving began to feel like a chore; otherwise I've had the freedom to take my time, drive some secondary roads, take in the sights... all the things you ideally would like to do during a trip across our great nation.
Tomorrow I'll do a short paddle just to get my body loose. My class, "K1 Unlimited," races on Sunday morning. Chances are I won't be back online until Sunday night, when I check into a motel during the long trip home.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Washed out of the mountains
I'm online for the first time since Monday morning, so it's time to catch up on what's been happening this week. On Sunday I went and did my typical paddle for the day after a race: an easy 60 minutes on Fontana Reservoir.
In the early 1940s the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Dam on the Little Tennessee River a few miles above where it flows from North Carolina into Tennessee. The result is Fontana Reservoir, and if you look at this body of water on a map you'll see that it's not the sort of vast expanse we're used to in my part of the country. Here in this mountainous terrain the impoundment backs up into all the many tributary watersheds, creating hundreds of fingers and tentacles. A paddler (or any other boater) can easily get lost in the maze. As I paddled on Sunday I had to make myself stop from time to time, and turn around to study where I'd come from. As you can gather from reading this post, I have made it back to tell the tale.
With an entire week before my final race on this trip--the USCA Nationals up at Dubuque, Iowa--I had no particular itinerary for the early part of this week, and I considered spending another day or two in the mountains. But Sunday evening some heavy rain moved into the area and chased me into my tent early, and it was still pouring down when I woke up the next morning. There's nothing like some inclement weather to make one desire a change of scenery. I quickly broke camp during a moment when the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and headed west. Surely, I thought, the storm system and I would eventually part company as I drove.
It appeared that we'd done so by the time I was in middle Tennessee, and I made camp in Rock Island State Park east of McMinnville. But no sooner did I clip the last corner of my tent's fly in place than the rain came back with a vengeance. I dove into the tent and sat forlornly as the drops hammered overhead. The rain finally ended as darkness fell, but by then there wasn't much to do but hit the hay and hope my soggy environs would begin to dry out the next day.
I'll tell you some more later.
In the early 1940s the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Dam on the Little Tennessee River a few miles above where it flows from North Carolina into Tennessee. The result is Fontana Reservoir, and if you look at this body of water on a map you'll see that it's not the sort of vast expanse we're used to in my part of the country. Here in this mountainous terrain the impoundment backs up into all the many tributary watersheds, creating hundreds of fingers and tentacles. A paddler (or any other boater) can easily get lost in the maze. As I paddled on Sunday I had to make myself stop from time to time, and turn around to study where I'd come from. As you can gather from reading this post, I have made it back to tell the tale.
With an entire week before my final race on this trip--the USCA Nationals up at Dubuque, Iowa--I had no particular itinerary for the early part of this week, and I considered spending another day or two in the mountains. But Sunday evening some heavy rain moved into the area and chased me into my tent early, and it was still pouring down when I woke up the next morning. There's nothing like some inclement weather to make one desire a change of scenery. I quickly broke camp during a moment when the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and headed west. Surely, I thought, the storm system and I would eventually part company as I drove.
It appeared that we'd done so by the time I was in middle Tennessee, and I made camp in Rock Island State Park east of McMinnville. But no sooner did I clip the last corner of my tent's fly in place than the rain came back with a vengeance. I dove into the tent and sat forlornly as the drops hammered overhead. The rain finally ended as darkness fell, but by then there wasn't much to do but hit the hay and hope my soggy environs would begin to dry out the next day.
I'll tell you some more later.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Monday photo feature
After Saturday's race, the winner of each age group in each boat class was awarded a one-quart growler of beer from a local brewery. The runner-up got a pint glass, and the third-place finisher got a shot glass. The unspoken assumption was that the winner would share his beer with his fellow medalists.
I was second in the 18-49 age group of the kayak race boat class, so I got the pint glass. But the winner didn't seem inclined to share. Fortunately I found a more generous spirit in the person of overall female winner Lindsey O'Shea. And the beer she'd been given wasn't too hoppy, so everything turned out great indeed.
Photo by Blake Gray.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Racing in the mountains
I made it over to the greater Bryson City area Thursday evening and set up housekeeping at the campground for the Tsali mountain bike trail complex. The six-mile Paddle Grapple race would take place Saturday morning just down the road near where Lemmons Branch flows into Fontana Reservoir.
Saturday morning arrived soon enough, and when I got down to the race site the parking lot was teeming with vehicles bearing boats. Some 100 athletes in all had entered to race in numerous boat classes. My own class, "K1 High Performance" for surf skis, flatwater K1s, and the like, was pretty loaded. The most "elite" paddler entered was Morgan House of Gainesville, Georgia, a fixture on the U.S. flatwater team a decade ago who would have gone to the Olympics once or twice if not for the IOC's stingy cap on the number of athletes allowed to compete in our under-appreciated sport.
He was the least of my worries as I looked around the parking lot and saw at least ten paddlers all of whom I could beat or all of whom could beat me. As soon as race director Chris Hipgrave concluded the competitors' meeting, we walked down to the water and got in our boats to see how it would all shake out.
In the race's early stages I might have been in tenth or fifteenth place overall. Morgan House went out fast as expected, as did the boat considered most likely to beat House, a tandem surf ski paddled by Chris Hipgrave and Bruce Poacher. Many other boats went out fast as well--too fast, in the case of some of them.
My plan was similar to what it had been in last year's race: work my way up in the pack until I found the fastest paddlers I could possibly hang with, and try to stay there. With so many paddlers in front of me I had to paddle in confused waters, and that took a lot of energy and concentration. Little by little I moved up, while some of the overenthusiastic starters began to drop back. In the first 2000 meters or so I saw many familiar competitors: Rick Carter of Eutawville, South Carolina; Joseph DiChiacchio of Rising Fawn, Georgia; Scott Cummins (my nemesis in Nashville last week) of Louisville, Kentucky; Cory Hall of Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Up ahead were Pete Greene of Beaufort, South Carolina, and Terry Smith of Chattanooga, and I knew that if I could get on their wakes I would have a good chance to distance myself from the rest of the field. For what seemed like an eternity I sat on the second wake back from them; at least four or five times I tried to sprint up and over the crest of that first wake, but to no avail. After each attempt I had to sit back and catch my breath. Finally, digging in as hard as I could, I attained that first wake, and I hoped I would have enough energy to stay competitive for the remaining 70% or so of the race after expending all that energy.
The six-mile race would take us through two laps of a three-mile loop. I settled in behind Pete and Terry and as we moved into the second half of that first lap, the competition finally began to take shape. Poacher/Hipgrave and House were far enough out in front that it was hard to tell what was happening up there. Sven Jonsson of Brevard, North Carolina, and Kurt Smithgall of Montoursville, Pennsylvania, paddled side-by-side in third and fourth place just a couple of boat lengths ahead of Pete and Terry and me. I figured people like Scott Cummins and Rick Carter couldn't be too far back.
We worked our way back into the cove where the race had started as the leaders were making the buoy turn to begin the second lap. Poacher/Hipgrave appeared to have a lead of four or five boatlengths on House. A minute or so later Sven and Kurt reached the buoy, and Sven, whose flatwater K1 is capable of tighter turns than Kurt's surf ski, opened a gap. Pete and Terry and I were in single file as we approached the buoy, and that had not changed once we had rounded the buoy. As we embarked on the second lap I estimated that Scott Cummins was maybe 30 seconds behind us as he approached the buoy.
My priority now was to maintain contact with Pete and Terry while conserving as much energy as I could. As the course looped around a big island our pack reeled in Kurt, a former U.S. wildwater team member whose torrid first-lap pace seemed to be catching up to him. By the time we had rounded the island we had overtaken Kurt, and I experienced a feeling of deja vu as I evaluated my position: in last year's race Sven had held second place behind a distant leader, while Pete and Terry and I had worked as a pack to close the gap.
This time that gap wasn't closing at all, as Sven had pulled away a bit after the buoy turn. Pete and Terry and I continued along in single file and I was pretty sure we were racing for fourth place overall. With around 1500 meters to go I moved up onto Terry's left-side wake, hoping to improve my position for the final sprint to the finish. Terry responded by moving up onto Pete's right-side wake, and I realized that the move I'd just made might be the last thing I had in me. My arms and shoulders starting to throb, I dropped back behind my two competitors and tried to hang on as the course wound its way back into the cove where the finish line awaited.
By this time the team of Poacher and Hipgrave was bringing home the overall win, with Morgan House comfortably taking first among single paddlers. Sven cruised to the finish in sole possession of third place overall. Our pack was next, and with 400 meters to go Terry had grabbed the lead with Pete trying to hold his side wake and a chance to sprint by him in the final meters. I continued to fight to maintain contact, feeling beleaguered but ever hopeful of a stroke of luck. With 50 meters left, Terry threw down a devastating surge and opened a little gap, earning himself fourth place. I made a brave final attempt, but Pete's lead on me was too solid.
And that's when I got my stroke of luck: the actual finish line lay some ten meters beyond the line we had started from. Chris had mentioned this fact during the pre-race meeting, but one could argue that he had not stated it as emphatically as he should have. And the line was marked with a single traffic cone at the water's edge; a pair of large bright-colored buoys and a big banner saying something like "The finish line is RIGHT HERE!!!!!!!!!" probably would have been more appropriate.
The upshot is that while I had heard what Chris said during the meeting (I'm a good little boy who always pays attention, after all), it had escaped Terry and Pete's notice. Both of them stopped paddling once they had crossed the line we had started from. Spectators on the bank shouted at them to keep going until they had passed the cone, but they didn't realize what was going on until I had slipped by Pete. And so the official finish order was Terry in fourth, me in fifth, and Pete in sixth.
For me it was sort of a bland victory, for Pete had definitely had me beat. He accepted the result with his usual sportsmanship and good humor. Fortunately, the result had no impact on who got what during the awards ceremony because Pete and I were entered in different age groups (Pete is in his 50s, while my 50th birthday is still three weeks away). For his part, Chris acknowledged that he hadn't made the finish line location as clear as he should have and promised to do better next year.
As of this writing the complete results have not been posted; I will link to them whenever they get put up. I do know that the top overall female finisher was Lindsey O'Shea of Gainesville, Georgia. I'm still sort of processing the whole event in my head and I'll probably have some more insights to share later.
Saturday morning arrived soon enough, and when I got down to the race site the parking lot was teeming with vehicles bearing boats. Some 100 athletes in all had entered to race in numerous boat classes. My own class, "K1 High Performance" for surf skis, flatwater K1s, and the like, was pretty loaded. The most "elite" paddler entered was Morgan House of Gainesville, Georgia, a fixture on the U.S. flatwater team a decade ago who would have gone to the Olympics once or twice if not for the IOC's stingy cap on the number of athletes allowed to compete in our under-appreciated sport.
He was the least of my worries as I looked around the parking lot and saw at least ten paddlers all of whom I could beat or all of whom could beat me. As soon as race director Chris Hipgrave concluded the competitors' meeting, we walked down to the water and got in our boats to see how it would all shake out.
In the race's early stages I might have been in tenth or fifteenth place overall. Morgan House went out fast as expected, as did the boat considered most likely to beat House, a tandem surf ski paddled by Chris Hipgrave and Bruce Poacher. Many other boats went out fast as well--too fast, in the case of some of them.
My plan was similar to what it had been in last year's race: work my way up in the pack until I found the fastest paddlers I could possibly hang with, and try to stay there. With so many paddlers in front of me I had to paddle in confused waters, and that took a lot of energy and concentration. Little by little I moved up, while some of the overenthusiastic starters began to drop back. In the first 2000 meters or so I saw many familiar competitors: Rick Carter of Eutawville, South Carolina; Joseph DiChiacchio of Rising Fawn, Georgia; Scott Cummins (my nemesis in Nashville last week) of Louisville, Kentucky; Cory Hall of Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Up ahead were Pete Greene of Beaufort, South Carolina, and Terry Smith of Chattanooga, and I knew that if I could get on their wakes I would have a good chance to distance myself from the rest of the field. For what seemed like an eternity I sat on the second wake back from them; at least four or five times I tried to sprint up and over the crest of that first wake, but to no avail. After each attempt I had to sit back and catch my breath. Finally, digging in as hard as I could, I attained that first wake, and I hoped I would have enough energy to stay competitive for the remaining 70% or so of the race after expending all that energy.
The six-mile race would take us through two laps of a three-mile loop. I settled in behind Pete and Terry and as we moved into the second half of that first lap, the competition finally began to take shape. Poacher/Hipgrave and House were far enough out in front that it was hard to tell what was happening up there. Sven Jonsson of Brevard, North Carolina, and Kurt Smithgall of Montoursville, Pennsylvania, paddled side-by-side in third and fourth place just a couple of boat lengths ahead of Pete and Terry and me. I figured people like Scott Cummins and Rick Carter couldn't be too far back.
We worked our way back into the cove where the race had started as the leaders were making the buoy turn to begin the second lap. Poacher/Hipgrave appeared to have a lead of four or five boatlengths on House. A minute or so later Sven and Kurt reached the buoy, and Sven, whose flatwater K1 is capable of tighter turns than Kurt's surf ski, opened a gap. Pete and Terry and I were in single file as we approached the buoy, and that had not changed once we had rounded the buoy. As we embarked on the second lap I estimated that Scott Cummins was maybe 30 seconds behind us as he approached the buoy.
My priority now was to maintain contact with Pete and Terry while conserving as much energy as I could. As the course looped around a big island our pack reeled in Kurt, a former U.S. wildwater team member whose torrid first-lap pace seemed to be catching up to him. By the time we had rounded the island we had overtaken Kurt, and I experienced a feeling of deja vu as I evaluated my position: in last year's race Sven had held second place behind a distant leader, while Pete and Terry and I had worked as a pack to close the gap.
This time that gap wasn't closing at all, as Sven had pulled away a bit after the buoy turn. Pete and Terry and I continued along in single file and I was pretty sure we were racing for fourth place overall. With around 1500 meters to go I moved up onto Terry's left-side wake, hoping to improve my position for the final sprint to the finish. Terry responded by moving up onto Pete's right-side wake, and I realized that the move I'd just made might be the last thing I had in me. My arms and shoulders starting to throb, I dropped back behind my two competitors and tried to hang on as the course wound its way back into the cove where the finish line awaited.
By this time the team of Poacher and Hipgrave was bringing home the overall win, with Morgan House comfortably taking first among single paddlers. Sven cruised to the finish in sole possession of third place overall. Our pack was next, and with 400 meters to go Terry had grabbed the lead with Pete trying to hold his side wake and a chance to sprint by him in the final meters. I continued to fight to maintain contact, feeling beleaguered but ever hopeful of a stroke of luck. With 50 meters left, Terry threw down a devastating surge and opened a little gap, earning himself fourth place. I made a brave final attempt, but Pete's lead on me was too solid.
And that's when I got my stroke of luck: the actual finish line lay some ten meters beyond the line we had started from. Chris had mentioned this fact during the pre-race meeting, but one could argue that he had not stated it as emphatically as he should have. And the line was marked with a single traffic cone at the water's edge; a pair of large bright-colored buoys and a big banner saying something like "The finish line is RIGHT HERE!!!!!!!!!" probably would have been more appropriate.
The upshot is that while I had heard what Chris said during the meeting (I'm a good little boy who always pays attention, after all), it had escaped Terry and Pete's notice. Both of them stopped paddling once they had crossed the line we had started from. Spectators on the bank shouted at them to keep going until they had passed the cone, but they didn't realize what was going on until I had slipped by Pete. And so the official finish order was Terry in fourth, me in fifth, and Pete in sixth.
For me it was sort of a bland victory, for Pete had definitely had me beat. He accepted the result with his usual sportsmanship and good humor. Fortunately, the result had no impact on who got what during the awards ceremony because Pete and I were entered in different age groups (Pete is in his 50s, while my 50th birthday is still three weeks away). For his part, Chris acknowledged that he hadn't made the finish line location as clear as he should have and promised to do better next year.
As of this writing the complete results have not been posted; I will link to them whenever they get put up. I do know that the top overall female finisher was Lindsey O'Shea of Gainesville, Georgia. I'm still sort of processing the whole event in my head and I'll probably have some more insights to share later.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Dammed-up water
I spent Monday lying around my sister's house like an absolute slug. It was just what I needed after all the drama of getting out of town and competing in a race and driving and visiting friends.
Yesterday and today I sampled a couple more of the reservoir offerings in the Catawba River basin. Yesterday I went out to Mountain Island Lake, a smallish reservoir off North Carolina 16. When I got there around 10 AM there was no motorized traffic at all and the water was as placid as could be. I went out for a 60-minute paddle, during which I did eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. Like I've said before, there are days when these sprints feel fluid and effortless, but yesterday they felt sort of sloppy. But then when I settled back into my normal cruising pace for the last 20 minutes, my form felt good. I think simply trying to do all the right things at a high intensity level helps them come more naturally at a normal intensity level.
Today I went to Lake Norman, the next reservoir upriver from Mountain Island Lake. Lake Norman is a much bigger, more industrial-strength kind of place. At the public access where I put in there was a sign posted explaining the lake evacuation protocol in the event of an emergency at the nearby McGuire Nuclear Station. Another sign gave a phone number to call and report suspicious persons. Out on the lake the motorized traffic wasn't too bad, but it was heavy enough for a Tuesday afternoon that I imagine it's ridiculous on summer weekends. The shorelines were teeming with shiny McMansions. It's The Great Outdoors, 21st-century style. I think I'll stick to the harbor at home.
I did another 60-minute paddle with six 12-strokers in the middle. For some reason I felt tired in the boat; I'm not sure why because I've been sleeping well and generally having a restful time these last several days. I hope I'll have more pep in my step by Saturday.
Lake Norman's water is quite warm, possibly because both the nuclear station and the Marshall Steam Station use it for cooling. When I finished paddling I hopped in the water and enjoyed a therapeutic soak for a few minutes.
I plan to head back west tomorrow ahead of Saturday's race on Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City. I'll be camping in that area and might not be online to post here for several days. The race information page is here, and I hope results will be posted by Saturday evening.
Yesterday and today I sampled a couple more of the reservoir offerings in the Catawba River basin. Yesterday I went out to Mountain Island Lake, a smallish reservoir off North Carolina 16. When I got there around 10 AM there was no motorized traffic at all and the water was as placid as could be. I went out for a 60-minute paddle, during which I did eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. Like I've said before, there are days when these sprints feel fluid and effortless, but yesterday they felt sort of sloppy. But then when I settled back into my normal cruising pace for the last 20 minutes, my form felt good. I think simply trying to do all the right things at a high intensity level helps them come more naturally at a normal intensity level.
Today I went to Lake Norman, the next reservoir upriver from Mountain Island Lake. Lake Norman is a much bigger, more industrial-strength kind of place. At the public access where I put in there was a sign posted explaining the lake evacuation protocol in the event of an emergency at the nearby McGuire Nuclear Station. Another sign gave a phone number to call and report suspicious persons. Out on the lake the motorized traffic wasn't too bad, but it was heavy enough for a Tuesday afternoon that I imagine it's ridiculous on summer weekends. The shorelines were teeming with shiny McMansions. It's The Great Outdoors, 21st-century style. I think I'll stick to the harbor at home.
I did another 60-minute paddle with six 12-strokers in the middle. For some reason I felt tired in the boat; I'm not sure why because I've been sleeping well and generally having a restful time these last several days. I hope I'll have more pep in my step by Saturday.
Lake Norman's water is quite warm, possibly because both the nuclear station and the Marshall Steam Station use it for cooling. When I finished paddling I hopped in the water and enjoyed a therapeutic soak for a few minutes.
I plan to head back west tomorrow ahead of Saturday's race on Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City. I'll be camping in that area and might not be online to post here for several days. The race information page is here, and I hope results will be posted by Saturday evening.
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