On Monday I did a round of the current strength routine. Tuesday was another warm and windy day. I was on my own to paddle because Joe was in an extended meeting, and as I was still feeling tired from Sunday's paddle as well as Monday's strength work, I decided a nice taut 60-minute sort of thing in the harbor was what I needed. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then paddled on the fast side of medium for the rest of the hour. I tried to keep my body relaxed, even when I was paddling into the teeth of that wind.
A bunch of rain moved through the Mid South Wednesday and yesterday. By the time I was in the boat yesterday morning it had just about moved out, but the wind was blowing again. I felt that another good "speedy" session was in order. I warmed up paddling south, into the wind, and then did three 8-stroke sprints with the wind at my back. Then I paddled south again, to the mouth of the harbor, and turned around for a good long downwind leg. When I reached the monorail bridge I timed myself from there to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge--a distance of about 450 meters. My time was a second or two under two minutes--very wind-aided, yes, but it's always nice to be able to break two minutes at this point in the season. I hope that a in a couple of months I'll be doing sets of four of these sprints all under two minutes. I spent the rest of the hour paddling a strong tempo.
I did rounds of the strength routine on Wednesday and today. I believe I'll come up with something
new for the month of April.
Friday, March 30, 2018
Monday, March 26, 2018
Monday photo feature
Having just competed in the Olympic Games the year before, the C2 team of Wayne Dickert and Horace Holden gets the 1997 season underway at the Nantahala Doubleheader.
It's been known for a few years now that the 2016 Olympics would be the last for this most fascinating of boat classes. In the 2020 Games at Tokyo, men's C2 will be replaced by women's C1. The purpose of the change is to bring about greater gender equity, and that's certainly an honorable goal. But the sad reality for what the IOC considers "fringe" sports is that the addition of female athletes must always be made at the expense of some male athletes.
Now, in a weekend announcement that practically nobody saw coming, the International Canoe Federation has declared that, effective immediately, men's C2 will no longer be contested at any of its elite-level international events (i.e., the world championships and the World Cup series). Any male C2 teams that have spent this past winter training are suddenly, inexplicably, out of luck. Slalom racers and fans around the globe are stunned and outraged.
Early-spring adventures
Saturday was a warm but windy day. The south wind was strong when I arrived at the river in the morning, and I stayed in the harbor, doing three 8-stroke sprints and then paddling at varying intensities with some balance drills in beam waves.
Yesterday it was quite a bit cooler--mid 50s Fahrenheit--and overcast and almost dead calm. I decided it was a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar and set off on my way, out of the harbor and up the Mississippi. Like I've said before, I never do this paddle as a time trial but I sort of aim to get it done in two hours or less. I was making good time as I paddled up past the Maynard C. Stiles sewage treatment plant and then ferried across the river.
Then, as I approached the north end of the Bar, a guy in a johnboat came over and started peppering me with questions about where a person might camp in the area and where the nearest road access on the Arkansas side was. I was annoyed at the interruption but tried my best to be polite and neighborly. We spoke for two or three minutes, but I probably lost a couple of minutes on top of that because we were drifting downstream the whole time.
Finally I continued on my way and paddled up to the top end of the Bar. The big flood of 2011 deposited a bunch of sand in this area, and at yesterday's river level (16.3 feet on the Memphis gauge) I found myself having to continue upstream to find an open passage into the Loosahatchie Chute. I thought I found one but it turned out to be only inches deep, and I ended up getting out of my boat and carrying it to deeper water. The sand was soft and I sank almost knee-deep several times.
Back in the boat I started down the Chute, but my shoes were full of sand and after a few minutes I decided the discomfort was more than I wanted to deal with for the forty minutes or so back to the dock. I stopped and took off my shoes--not the easiest thing to do on a tippy surf ski. The water was cold and I really didn't want to take a swim if I could help it. As it was, my legs were getting good and soaked as I struggled out of my shoes, rinsed them out, and gingerly slipped them back on.
At last I was on my way again, and there was now no way I would be breaking two hours, so I tried to relax and enjoy the environs. Even on this cloudy, chilly day, the Loosahatchie Chute is quite a beautiful place. Even though it's only maybe three miles from the concrete jungle of downtown Memphis, a person can feel like he's in a remote wilderness by paddling down into the Chute. Yesterday the water was as smooth as glass and reflected the trees on either bank.
I was getting pretty tired by the time I emerged at the downstream end of the Bar and paddled back into the main river channel toward the mouth of the harbor. I tried to take good strokes and keep the boat gliding. I ended up back at the marina about two hours and fifteen minutes after I'd started. On the dock in my wet clothes, I was chilled to the core and would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get some warmth back into my body.
The stiffness in my upper back seems to be easing, and that's a figurative relief as well as a literal one. Four years ago I went through a period of months where I couldn't shake this ailment, and on some days the discomfort was enough to make me just plain miserable.
Yesterday it was quite a bit cooler--mid 50s Fahrenheit--and overcast and almost dead calm. I decided it was a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar and set off on my way, out of the harbor and up the Mississippi. Like I've said before, I never do this paddle as a time trial but I sort of aim to get it done in two hours or less. I was making good time as I paddled up past the Maynard C. Stiles sewage treatment plant and then ferried across the river.
Then, as I approached the north end of the Bar, a guy in a johnboat came over and started peppering me with questions about where a person might camp in the area and where the nearest road access on the Arkansas side was. I was annoyed at the interruption but tried my best to be polite and neighborly. We spoke for two or three minutes, but I probably lost a couple of minutes on top of that because we were drifting downstream the whole time.
Finally I continued on my way and paddled up to the top end of the Bar. The big flood of 2011 deposited a bunch of sand in this area, and at yesterday's river level (16.3 feet on the Memphis gauge) I found myself having to continue upstream to find an open passage into the Loosahatchie Chute. I thought I found one but it turned out to be only inches deep, and I ended up getting out of my boat and carrying it to deeper water. The sand was soft and I sank almost knee-deep several times.
Back in the boat I started down the Chute, but my shoes were full of sand and after a few minutes I decided the discomfort was more than I wanted to deal with for the forty minutes or so back to the dock. I stopped and took off my shoes--not the easiest thing to do on a tippy surf ski. The water was cold and I really didn't want to take a swim if I could help it. As it was, my legs were getting good and soaked as I struggled out of my shoes, rinsed them out, and gingerly slipped them back on.
At last I was on my way again, and there was now no way I would be breaking two hours, so I tried to relax and enjoy the environs. Even on this cloudy, chilly day, the Loosahatchie Chute is quite a beautiful place. Even though it's only maybe three miles from the concrete jungle of downtown Memphis, a person can feel like he's in a remote wilderness by paddling down into the Chute. Yesterday the water was as smooth as glass and reflected the trees on either bank.
I was getting pretty tired by the time I emerged at the downstream end of the Bar and paddled back into the main river channel toward the mouth of the harbor. I tried to take good strokes and keep the boat gliding. I ended up back at the marina about two hours and fifteen minutes after I'd started. On the dock in my wet clothes, I was chilled to the core and would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get some warmth back into my body.
The stiffness in my upper back seems to be easing, and that's a figurative relief as well as a literal one. Four years ago I went through a period of months where I couldn't shake this ailment, and on some days the discomfort was enough to make me just plain miserable.
Friday, March 23, 2018
Getting back down to business
I spent Saturday night in Ocean Springs, and Sunday morning I went down to the "East Beach" section of the waterfront to do a 60-minute paddle. A dense fog hung over the seascape and I made sure to keep the shoreline in sight. I paddled along this piece of Mississippi Sound to the entrance to the Back Bay of Biloxi, under the U.S. 90 bridge, around the rotating section of the railroad bridge, and back to where I'd parked at East Beach.
I drove through a few masses of rain and got home about 6:00 PM CDT. I spent the next couple of days getting back into the routine, doing the strength routine on Monday and paddling with Joe on Tuesday. The weather was warm and sunny Monday but breezy, overcast, drizzly, and chilly on Tuesday.
On Wednesday I stayed in and did another round of the strength routine. By Thursday the weather was still cool but nice and sunny again as I put my boat in the water. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then paddled a decent tempo out on the river. The river is dropping fast now: it was down to 24.6 feet on the Memphis gauge Thursday morning. Places like the Greenbelt Park are no longer flooded.
I woke up this morning stiff and sore in my upper back, right in the middle between the shoulder blades. It's similar to some discomfort I dealt with four years ago that lasted for months. I can't think of anything I did to cause it other than maybe sleeping on it wrong, but I hope this won't be a long-lasting ailment. I was very tempted to skip the strength routine today but I sucked it up and got that done, and I think I'm feeling slightly better as a result. At least the area is warmed up.
I drove through a few masses of rain and got home about 6:00 PM CDT. I spent the next couple of days getting back into the routine, doing the strength routine on Monday and paddling with Joe on Tuesday. The weather was warm and sunny Monday but breezy, overcast, drizzly, and chilly on Tuesday.
On Wednesday I stayed in and did another round of the strength routine. By Thursday the weather was still cool but nice and sunny again as I put my boat in the water. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then paddled a decent tempo out on the river. The river is dropping fast now: it was down to 24.6 feet on the Memphis gauge Thursday morning. Places like the Greenbelt Park are no longer flooded.
I woke up this morning stiff and sore in my upper back, right in the middle between the shoulder blades. It's similar to some discomfort I dealt with four years ago that lasted for months. I can't think of anything I did to cause it other than maybe sleeping on it wrong, but I hope this won't be a long-lasting ailment. I was very tempted to skip the strength routine today but I sucked it up and got that done, and I think I'm feeling slightly better as a result. At least the area is warmed up.
Monday, March 19, 2018
Monday photo feature
We canoe and kayak racers are a frugal bunch, and we don't pass up an opportunity to couch-surf at friends' houses while traveling to races. This past weekend I stayed with my friend Nick Kinderman in Ocean Springs, and he even provided me with a sure-enough bed.
Nick shares his home with this beautiful Australian shepherd. Her name is Sierra, and she's extremely protective of her master and wary of strangers like me. I'm usually pretty good at making friends with animals, but I've never quite been able to win Sierra over. My offers of petting are always greeted with low growls, and when I move about the house she wants to "herd" me by nipping at my ankles.
Oh well... I love her anyway. I wouldn't be much of a human being not to love a pretty and loyal creature like Sierra.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
Race schedule update
Now that the year's first race is under my belt, I reckon it's a good time to have a look at what's still to come in 2018. What follows is a list of races that are on my radar.
I'll mention once more that I probably won't make it to every single one of these events, and there may well be an event or two that I will make it to that I don't yet know about. This schedule is the proverbial "working document" and it will probably remain so as the year goes along.
April
7 Top Of The Teche. Bayou Teche, Leonville, Louisiana, to Arnaudville, Louisiana. 7.7 miles down a Class I river. Register
7 Kayak Trader Oyster City Challenge. Apalachicola River, Apalachicola, Florida. 15 miles down a coastal river. Register
21 Bluz Cruz Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River from Madison Parish Port, Louisiana, to Vicksburg, Mississippi. 21 miles down the largest river in North America. Register
May
12 Osage Spring 12. Osage River near Osage City, Missouri. 12 miles total (10 miles downriver and then 2 miles back up) on a Class I river. Register
12 Bluegrass River Run. Kentucky River near Richmond, Kentucky. 19 miles down a Class I river. Register
June
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16 Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee. The 37th edition of this classic. 5000 meters down the largest river in North America. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
I'll mention once more that I probably won't make it to every single one of these events, and there may well be an event or two that I will make it to that I don't yet know about. This schedule is the proverbial "working document" and it will probably remain so as the year goes along.
April
7 Top Of The Teche. Bayou Teche, Leonville, Louisiana, to Arnaudville, Louisiana. 7.7 miles down a Class I river. Register
7 Kayak Trader Oyster City Challenge. Apalachicola River, Apalachicola, Florida. 15 miles down a coastal river. Register
21 Bluz Cruz Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River from Madison Parish Port, Louisiana, to Vicksburg, Mississippi. 21 miles down the largest river in North America. Register
May
12 Osage Spring 12. Osage River near Osage City, Missouri. 12 miles total (10 miles downriver and then 2 miles back up) on a Class I river. Register
12 Bluegrass River Run. Kentucky River near Richmond, Kentucky. 19 miles down a Class I river. Register
June
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16 Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee. The 37th edition of this classic. 5000 meters down the largest river in North America. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
Opening the season on the Gulf Coast
I woke up yesterday feeling stiff in my midsection. I couldn't really think of an explanation other than maybe having sat in the car for six hours the day before. I hoped it would loosen up once I was in the boat.
Nick and I made our way to the waterfront by the Gulf Hills Hotel where the race would begin. A good-sized collection of racers had gathered, though race director Mike Pornovets said registration was down. The likely reason, he said, was the rainy forecast. But as the nine-o'clock start time approached there was no rain in sight and the sun was even trying to peek through at times. The Fahrenheit temperature was in the mid 60s.
We got in our boats and assembled at the starting line in a cove near the east end of the Back Bay of Biloxi. When the gun went off we all sprinted for several hundred meters toward a point where we would turn left up into Old Fort Bayou.
A couple of team boats were among the fastest starters. One of them was a tandem kayak paddled by Mike Herbert and his daughter Savanna from Rogers, Arkansas. Another was a 3-man rig powered by the 16-year-old Pellerin triplets of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. And then there were a few solo paddlers vying for the early lead. Along with yours truly, there was Christian Massow of Cypress, Texas; Bruce Poacher of Isle of Palms, South Carolina; and Andy Capel of Maumelle, Arkansas.
Mike and Savanna opened a lead of several boatlengths once we were headed up the Bayou. I'd raced this tandem team once before, and in that race they'd jumped out to an early lead as well (you can count on any boat with Mike Herbert in it to have a fast start). But I was able to reel them in with some help from a couple of other tandem boats, and I was hoping maybe I could do the same yesterday.
Part of the early-race excitement was a series of waves created by motorized boats nearby: they were about as perfect for surfing as I've ever seen in a non-downwind race. We tried to get whatever we could from them before they petered out and the mid-race pecking order began to take shape.
Bruce Poacher and I found ourselves riding the wake of the triplets' boat. I was a bit surprised to see all three Pellerins competing yesterday, as Peyton had spent the winter dealing with a wrist injury and his grandfather Ray had told me a few weeks earlier that he wasn't expected to race at all this year. But there he was manning the stern, with Conrad in the bow and Carson in the "engine room" amidships. As we navigated the first half of this 8.5-mile out-and-back course the boys were moving their boat with authority and I was having to fight hard at times to hold onto their wake. It felt as though we were slowly closing the gap on Mike and Savanna and I figured it was about the best place I could be.
The race course wends its way up the bayou for about four miles before it rounds an island and sends racers back to where they'd started. Bruce and I continued to pursue the triplets, occasionally moving from their stern wake to their side wake or vice-versa. When we reached the island we had to follow a narrow channel around one side of it, and this channel was shallow due to the low tide. It was in these tight quarters that the Pellerins faltered: I don't know exactly what happened, but their usual smooth, perfectly-synced paddling rhythm gave way to some confusion and bickering. I saw my chance and threw in a big surge to open up a gap.
At this point I was feeling good despite the hard paddling I'd had to do so far--a good sign of my early-season fitness level. The bad news was that I was now on my own in the effort to run down Mike and Savanna, who were looking strong some thirty or forty seconds ahead of me. I tried to stay relaxed and focus on taking the sort of strokes I'd been practicing all winter, and keeping my stroke rate down like Morgan House had instructed last fall. As the second half of the race wore on I could tell that Mike and Savanna were extending their lead a bit, and this sign that I might be dropping off the pace made me fret about the boats behind me. But I stole a couple of glances back there as I rounded the tight turns just above the Washington Avenue drawbridge, and I saw no close pursuers.
When I pass under the drawbridge I feel like I'm almost done, but in fact there's at least a good 2000 meters still to go at that point. By this time yesterday I was pretty sure catching Mike and Savanna was a lost cause and I just tried to stay as efficient as I could to ensure my strongest possible finish. As I rounded the turn into the long approach to the finish line I could see Mike and Savanna making their final sprint, and I told myself that anytime I actually see Mike Herbert finish a race, my own performance can't have been too bad. The Herberts stopped the clock at one hour, 12 minutes; I crossed the line just over a minute later at 1:13:02.
Bruce Poacher claimed third place overall with a time of 1:14:35. About two and a half minutes later the Pellerins came in; they were understandably less than thrilled with their result, seeing as how they'd looked truly dominant at this same race last year. I have no doubt they will be back to that kind of form soon enough.
Andy Capel took fifth place overall, just one second ahead of Christian Massow. I later found out that Andy had flipped just after the start, and he must have done a textbook remount to keep himself in contention. Christian, whose surname is spelled Maßow in German (the German letter ß is like the English double-s), had been dealing with some injury problems for several years, and it was good to see him back on the water.
Susan Jordan of Lucedale, Mississippi, was the fastest overall female finisher (not counting Savanna Herbert). Competing in a fast touring kayak, Susan clocked 1:31:40.
In the end, 90 boats completed the race. That's definitely down from this event's peak participation level of more than two hundred. The racers who'd stayed away fearing bad weather missed what turned out to be a lovely morning for racing. The complete results are posted here.
Racers all over the Gulf South region owe much gratitude to Mike Pornovets, Ed Hornsby, Jessica Watters, and all the volunteers who kept this event going for another year. When the day was done, I knew I couldn't have asked for a better way to get a new race season started.
Nick and I made our way to the waterfront by the Gulf Hills Hotel where the race would begin. A good-sized collection of racers had gathered, though race director Mike Pornovets said registration was down. The likely reason, he said, was the rainy forecast. But as the nine-o'clock start time approached there was no rain in sight and the sun was even trying to peek through at times. The Fahrenheit temperature was in the mid 60s.
We got in our boats and assembled at the starting line in a cove near the east end of the Back Bay of Biloxi. When the gun went off we all sprinted for several hundred meters toward a point where we would turn left up into Old Fort Bayou.
A couple of team boats were among the fastest starters. One of them was a tandem kayak paddled by Mike Herbert and his daughter Savanna from Rogers, Arkansas. Another was a 3-man rig powered by the 16-year-old Pellerin triplets of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. And then there were a few solo paddlers vying for the early lead. Along with yours truly, there was Christian Massow of Cypress, Texas; Bruce Poacher of Isle of Palms, South Carolina; and Andy Capel of Maumelle, Arkansas.
Mike and Savanna opened a lead of several boatlengths once we were headed up the Bayou. I'd raced this tandem team once before, and in that race they'd jumped out to an early lead as well (you can count on any boat with Mike Herbert in it to have a fast start). But I was able to reel them in with some help from a couple of other tandem boats, and I was hoping maybe I could do the same yesterday.
Part of the early-race excitement was a series of waves created by motorized boats nearby: they were about as perfect for surfing as I've ever seen in a non-downwind race. We tried to get whatever we could from them before they petered out and the mid-race pecking order began to take shape.
Bruce Poacher and I found ourselves riding the wake of the triplets' boat. I was a bit surprised to see all three Pellerins competing yesterday, as Peyton had spent the winter dealing with a wrist injury and his grandfather Ray had told me a few weeks earlier that he wasn't expected to race at all this year. But there he was manning the stern, with Conrad in the bow and Carson in the "engine room" amidships. As we navigated the first half of this 8.5-mile out-and-back course the boys were moving their boat with authority and I was having to fight hard at times to hold onto their wake. It felt as though we were slowly closing the gap on Mike and Savanna and I figured it was about the best place I could be.
The race course wends its way up the bayou for about four miles before it rounds an island and sends racers back to where they'd started. Bruce and I continued to pursue the triplets, occasionally moving from their stern wake to their side wake or vice-versa. When we reached the island we had to follow a narrow channel around one side of it, and this channel was shallow due to the low tide. It was in these tight quarters that the Pellerins faltered: I don't know exactly what happened, but their usual smooth, perfectly-synced paddling rhythm gave way to some confusion and bickering. I saw my chance and threw in a big surge to open up a gap.
At this point I was feeling good despite the hard paddling I'd had to do so far--a good sign of my early-season fitness level. The bad news was that I was now on my own in the effort to run down Mike and Savanna, who were looking strong some thirty or forty seconds ahead of me. I tried to stay relaxed and focus on taking the sort of strokes I'd been practicing all winter, and keeping my stroke rate down like Morgan House had instructed last fall. As the second half of the race wore on I could tell that Mike and Savanna were extending their lead a bit, and this sign that I might be dropping off the pace made me fret about the boats behind me. But I stole a couple of glances back there as I rounded the tight turns just above the Washington Avenue drawbridge, and I saw no close pursuers.
When I pass under the drawbridge I feel like I'm almost done, but in fact there's at least a good 2000 meters still to go at that point. By this time yesterday I was pretty sure catching Mike and Savanna was a lost cause and I just tried to stay as efficient as I could to ensure my strongest possible finish. As I rounded the turn into the long approach to the finish line I could see Mike and Savanna making their final sprint, and I told myself that anytime I actually see Mike Herbert finish a race, my own performance can't have been too bad. The Herberts stopped the clock at one hour, 12 minutes; I crossed the line just over a minute later at 1:13:02.
Bruce Poacher claimed third place overall with a time of 1:14:35. About two and a half minutes later the Pellerins came in; they were understandably less than thrilled with their result, seeing as how they'd looked truly dominant at this same race last year. I have no doubt they will be back to that kind of form soon enough.
Andy Capel took fifth place overall, just one second ahead of Christian Massow. I later found out that Andy had flipped just after the start, and he must have done a textbook remount to keep himself in contention. Christian, whose surname is spelled Maßow in German (the German letter ß is like the English double-s), had been dealing with some injury problems for several years, and it was good to see him back on the water.
Susan Jordan of Lucedale, Mississippi, was the fastest overall female finisher (not counting Savanna Herbert). Competing in a fast touring kayak, Susan clocked 1:31:40.
In the end, 90 boats completed the race. That's definitely down from this event's peak participation level of more than two hundred. The racers who'd stayed away fearing bad weather missed what turned out to be a lovely morning for racing. The complete results are posted here.
Racers all over the Gulf South region owe much gratitude to Mike Pornovets, Ed Hornsby, Jessica Watters, and all the volunteers who kept this event going for another year. When the day was done, I knew I couldn't have asked for a better way to get a new race season started.
Friday, March 16, 2018
It's about time to do some RACIN'!
My prediction of how long the Gen. Jackson would continue to sit in Memphis was wrong. The vessel resumed her voyage upriver early Tuesday morning. So you see, I am wrong once in a blue moon.
I did the strength routine on Monday and Wednesday this week, and now I'm grateful for a brief break from that with a race coming up tomorrow.
Joe and I did our usual loop of the harbor on Tuesday, and yesterday I got in a 50-minute session in the harbor with another set of six 12-stroke sprints. The Mississippi remains quite high: the Memphis gauge reading was 38.1 feet when I paddled yesterday morning. The river is usually very nice when it's dropping slowly from a crest. It cleans itself out a bit as the debris it had picked up is either flushed downstream or redeposited on the banks.
Today I drove through a lot of rain down to Ocean Springs, Mississippi, site of the Battle On The Bayou canoe and kayak race tomorrow. I arrived in the late afternoon and did a 40-minute paddle in and around the mouth of Old Fort Bayou. I did four 12-stroke sprints and otherwise tried to work out the stiffness from the drive.
I'm spending the night at the home of my friend Nick Kinderman, who happens to be the founder of this weekend's event. He served as race director from 2010 until 2015 before handing that duty off. Tomorrow he'll be just a racer like me.
Right now I'm sleepy and ready for bed, and not in much of a mood to think about what kind of shape I'm in or how I might do tomorrow. But I'm glad to be getting another race season started. As U.S. whitewater slalom Olympian Casey Eichfeld likes to say, "Let's race!!!!"
I did the strength routine on Monday and Wednesday this week, and now I'm grateful for a brief break from that with a race coming up tomorrow.
Joe and I did our usual loop of the harbor on Tuesday, and yesterday I got in a 50-minute session in the harbor with another set of six 12-stroke sprints. The Mississippi remains quite high: the Memphis gauge reading was 38.1 feet when I paddled yesterday morning. The river is usually very nice when it's dropping slowly from a crest. It cleans itself out a bit as the debris it had picked up is either flushed downstream or redeposited on the banks.
Today I drove through a lot of rain down to Ocean Springs, Mississippi, site of the Battle On The Bayou canoe and kayak race tomorrow. I arrived in the late afternoon and did a 40-minute paddle in and around the mouth of Old Fort Bayou. I did four 12-stroke sprints and otherwise tried to work out the stiffness from the drive.
I'm spending the night at the home of my friend Nick Kinderman, who happens to be the founder of this weekend's event. He served as race director from 2010 until 2015 before handing that duty off. Tomorrow he'll be just a racer like me.
Right now I'm sleepy and ready for bed, and not in much of a mood to think about what kind of shape I'm in or how I might do tomorrow. But I'm glad to be getting another race season started. As U.S. whitewater slalom Olympian Casey Eichfeld likes to say, "Let's race!!!!"
Monday, March 12, 2018
Monday photo feature
The Gen. Jackson, a river excursion boat based in Nashville, has been docked at Beale Street Landing since March 1, and it's likely to remain there for at least another week. Why? Well, to get back to Nashville the vessel must travel up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Ohio River, cruise up the Ohio to the mouth of the Cumberland River, and go a-lumberin' up the Cumberland to the self-proclaimed "Music City." And apparently there's a bridge on the Ohio leg of the route that the boat can't fit under during this current high-water period. So the boat and her crew are hanging out in Memphis until the water drops.
To be honest, there's something about this whole scenario that makes me smile. I mean, this seems like a nineteenth-century sort of problem, and yet here we are in 2018 and a boat still has to cool its heels for many days because of one bridge hundreds of miles upriver.
Sunday, March 11, 2018
Time to rest a little
By yesterday morning the Mississippi had dropped almost two tenths of a foot from its crest, but it was still plenty high. I got in the boat and warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and headed out of the harbor and up the river.
The flooded portion of the Greenbelt Park is mostly slack and I figured it was a good place to do my workout. I did ten 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals. By the time I'd finished the seventh sprint I was at the north end of the Greenbelt Park, so I did the last three coming back down the river.
My arms and shoulders felt tired during yesterday's paddle. Even though I've gotten over the soreness of the current strength routine, I think it's a bit more taxing than the average routine I put together.
Now, with my first race of the season coming up next weekend, I'm hoping to get some rest this week. That means I'll be dialing down the volume a little bit, but I'll be doing a few extra short sprints because I want to be not just rested but also sharp. Today I paddled for 50 minutes, and did six 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. At times like this I lengthen the sprints from eight strokes to twelve with the hope of getting in a few more smooth strokes once the boat is up to speed.
I'll do similar stuff as the coming week moves along. I plan to do strength work tomorrow and Wednesday but not Friday.
The flooded portion of the Greenbelt Park is mostly slack and I figured it was a good place to do my workout. I did ten 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals. By the time I'd finished the seventh sprint I was at the north end of the Greenbelt Park, so I did the last three coming back down the river.
My arms and shoulders felt tired during yesterday's paddle. Even though I've gotten over the soreness of the current strength routine, I think it's a bit more taxing than the average routine I put together.
Now, with my first race of the season coming up next weekend, I'm hoping to get some rest this week. That means I'll be dialing down the volume a little bit, but I'll be doing a few extra short sprints because I want to be not just rested but also sharp. Today I paddled for 50 minutes, and did six 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. At times like this I lengthen the sprints from eight strokes to twelve with the hope of getting in a few more smooth strokes once the boat is up to speed.
I'll do similar stuff as the coming week moves along. I plan to do strength work tomorrow and Wednesday but not Friday.
Friday, March 9, 2018
Aside from the high water, it was a generic week
I took my boat home and repaired that broken rudder pedal on Monday. By Tuesday the boat was back on the water. Joe had a conflict and couldn't make it, so I paddled by myself for 60 minutes. I paddled up the Mississippi and into the flooded Greenbelt Park, and attracted no attention from local authorities.
I did another 60-minute paddle yesterday. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I paddled a quick tempo for 30 minutes before cooling down and returning to the dock.
The Mississippi River crested today at 39.44 feet on the Memphis gauge. It's dropping now, but slowly: it isn't expected to fall below the official "flood stage" of 34 feet until the end of next week.
I did the strength routine this week on Monday, Wednesday, and today.
I did another 60-minute paddle yesterday. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I paddled a quick tempo for 30 minutes before cooling down and returning to the dock.
The Mississippi River crested today at 39.44 feet on the Memphis gauge. It's dropping now, but slowly: it isn't expected to fall below the official "flood stage" of 34 feet until the end of next week.
I did the strength routine this week on Monday, Wednesday, and today.
Monday, March 5, 2018
Monday photo feature
I like some good old-fashioned Go Pro photography. It had been a long time since I'd taken my camera out, so yesterday I did. Here I'm paddling the channel that connects Dacus Lake to the main Mississippi River. Paddling from one body of water to the other becomes possible when the Mississippi rises into the mid 30s on the Memphis gauge.
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Training hard but looking hapless anyway
Yesterday I did my annual time trial over one full loop of the harbor. I discuss this ritual in more detail in this post I wrote last year.
I went into it yesterday not expecting any miracles. I wasn't feeling particularly rested: I was still quite sore from the new strength routine, and I'd slept poorly for a couple of nights because of a professional problem I'm having to deal with.
Furthermore, I'm almost never in peak racing form at this time of year. One reason I do this at this point in the season is so I won't be going into my first race completely cold in two weeks. And I never use my nicest racing gear for this time trial; I use my old beat-up training paddle and an older surf ski that I still use for training but don't take to races anymore. I guess that's just a way of reminding myself that this is, in fact, a training exercise, and not something I should take any more seriously than that.
The weather was not terrible but not the best either. It was sunny and beautiful, actually, but there was a swirling wind from the northeast. On the plus side, the Mississippi was up to 36.9 feet on the Memphis gauge, meaning that I could paddle more direct lines. (The harbor is quite a bit more sinuous at low water.)
I warmed up paddling from the marina to the harbor's north end, and did three 8-stroke sprints before settling into the usual starting gate between two submerged trees. I sprinted hard for about 45 seconds before settling into a pace I hoped I could maintain. As I noted last year, 7.2 miles per hour is about what my average speed would have to be to achieve my sub-50-minute wish-list item. Because of the squirrelly winds there were moments when I exceeded this speed and moments when I fell well short even though I was maintaining a pretty consistent intensity.
When I reached the turnaround point at a predetermined location next to the Beale Street Landing dock, I was somewhat surprised to see that my time was about 25:15--not far off the pace for a sub-50. But I knew that a negative split in the second half would be a tall order because of the mostly-north winds as well as my mounting fatigue. Sure enough, my G.P.S. device was reporting speeds around 6.5 mph a lot more often than speeds at or above the magic 7.2.
I tried to stay relaxed and take the best strokes I could. One thing I focused on was keeping the stroke rate a bit lower than I'm used to: in the stroke clinic I took last fall, Morgan House emphasized hesitation between strokes to avail oneself of that extra half-second of glide. I've always been a bit overeager to take that next stroke.
As the finish line came into view I knew a sub-50 wasn't going to happen, but I tried to finish strong. I crossed the line in 51:47, and that was a bit of a moral victory because it had been several years since I'd last broken 52 minutes. My G.P.S. device measured the course at 5.92 miles... interestingly, that's a hundredth of a mile more than the measurement I got last year when the water level was 11.3 feet. Maybe high water doesn't make as much difference as I thought it did.
Glad to have this time trial over for another year, I relished the lovely day as I paddled the mile and a half or so back to the marina. I ate the apple and drank the water I'd left on the dock and went home and had a nourishing lunch. Then I took a nap.
I slept better last night and woke up to another lovely morning today. I headed down to the river with the intention of doing nothing but enjoying the nice weather and the high water on the river, now up to 37.8 feet.
Things didn't quite go according to plan, and in fact one should never count on everything going according to plan when doing things outdoors. Shortly after I'd paddled out of the harbor and headed up the Mississippi, one of my boat's foot pedals broke. I wasn't terribly surprised, as my boat is eight years old and the pedal broke in a place that gets a lot of routine wear and tear. I paddled up into the flooded Greenbelt Park and found a place to get out of my boat to inspect the damage, and I decided that the pedal should still be functional enough for me to continue.
I ferried across the river and did a loop through some of the flooded bottomland on the Arkansas side. Once I'd had enough of that I ferried back across and re-entered the harbor. I immediately encountered a boat from the Memphis Police Harbor Patrol. One of the men on board asked me if I'd seen any other kayakers out on the river. I said I hadn't. He told me the Coast Guard had gotten a report of a "kayaker in distress" and passed it on to them. I repeated that I hadn't seen anything and continued on my way. Moments later a cop on the bank waved me over and asked me again if I'd seen anybody in trouble. I replied that I hadn't. He asked me if I had flipped my boat at any time. "Not today," I told him.
I continued paddling north, back toward the dock. I noticed a police helicopter circling overhead. I had a feeling somebody had seen me out on the river, thought I was in distress, and reported me. I figured I'd better just get back to the marina and put my boat away before any other law enforcement types ran me down and tried to accuse me of raising a false alarm or setting a poor example for my fellow citizens or something like that.
As I approached the marina, I was hailed by an officer at the Coast Guard station directly across the harbor. I paddled over to him and was relieved to be greeted in a friendly manner. It was he who had taken the original report, and he asked me if I had paddled across the river. I told him I had. He felt certain that the caller had mistakenly thought I was in some sort of trouble, and that he would call off the search.
It's actually not the first time somebody has mistakenly thought I was in trouble. And I try so hard to look competent out there. Oh well.
I went into it yesterday not expecting any miracles. I wasn't feeling particularly rested: I was still quite sore from the new strength routine, and I'd slept poorly for a couple of nights because of a professional problem I'm having to deal with.
Furthermore, I'm almost never in peak racing form at this time of year. One reason I do this at this point in the season is so I won't be going into my first race completely cold in two weeks. And I never use my nicest racing gear for this time trial; I use my old beat-up training paddle and an older surf ski that I still use for training but don't take to races anymore. I guess that's just a way of reminding myself that this is, in fact, a training exercise, and not something I should take any more seriously than that.
The weather was not terrible but not the best either. It was sunny and beautiful, actually, but there was a swirling wind from the northeast. On the plus side, the Mississippi was up to 36.9 feet on the Memphis gauge, meaning that I could paddle more direct lines. (The harbor is quite a bit more sinuous at low water.)
I warmed up paddling from the marina to the harbor's north end, and did three 8-stroke sprints before settling into the usual starting gate between two submerged trees. I sprinted hard for about 45 seconds before settling into a pace I hoped I could maintain. As I noted last year, 7.2 miles per hour is about what my average speed would have to be to achieve my sub-50-minute wish-list item. Because of the squirrelly winds there were moments when I exceeded this speed and moments when I fell well short even though I was maintaining a pretty consistent intensity.
When I reached the turnaround point at a predetermined location next to the Beale Street Landing dock, I was somewhat surprised to see that my time was about 25:15--not far off the pace for a sub-50. But I knew that a negative split in the second half would be a tall order because of the mostly-north winds as well as my mounting fatigue. Sure enough, my G.P.S. device was reporting speeds around 6.5 mph a lot more often than speeds at or above the magic 7.2.
I tried to stay relaxed and take the best strokes I could. One thing I focused on was keeping the stroke rate a bit lower than I'm used to: in the stroke clinic I took last fall, Morgan House emphasized hesitation between strokes to avail oneself of that extra half-second of glide. I've always been a bit overeager to take that next stroke.
As the finish line came into view I knew a sub-50 wasn't going to happen, but I tried to finish strong. I crossed the line in 51:47, and that was a bit of a moral victory because it had been several years since I'd last broken 52 minutes. My G.P.S. device measured the course at 5.92 miles... interestingly, that's a hundredth of a mile more than the measurement I got last year when the water level was 11.3 feet. Maybe high water doesn't make as much difference as I thought it did.
Glad to have this time trial over for another year, I relished the lovely day as I paddled the mile and a half or so back to the marina. I ate the apple and drank the water I'd left on the dock and went home and had a nourishing lunch. Then I took a nap.
I slept better last night and woke up to another lovely morning today. I headed down to the river with the intention of doing nothing but enjoying the nice weather and the high water on the river, now up to 37.8 feet.
Things didn't quite go according to plan, and in fact one should never count on everything going according to plan when doing things outdoors. Shortly after I'd paddled out of the harbor and headed up the Mississippi, one of my boat's foot pedals broke. I wasn't terribly surprised, as my boat is eight years old and the pedal broke in a place that gets a lot of routine wear and tear. I paddled up into the flooded Greenbelt Park and found a place to get out of my boat to inspect the damage, and I decided that the pedal should still be functional enough for me to continue.
I ferried across the river and did a loop through some of the flooded bottomland on the Arkansas side. Once I'd had enough of that I ferried back across and re-entered the harbor. I immediately encountered a boat from the Memphis Police Harbor Patrol. One of the men on board asked me if I'd seen any other kayakers out on the river. I said I hadn't. He told me the Coast Guard had gotten a report of a "kayaker in distress" and passed it on to them. I repeated that I hadn't seen anything and continued on my way. Moments later a cop on the bank waved me over and asked me again if I'd seen anybody in trouble. I replied that I hadn't. He asked me if I had flipped my boat at any time. "Not today," I told him.
I continued paddling north, back toward the dock. I noticed a police helicopter circling overhead. I had a feeling somebody had seen me out on the river, thought I was in distress, and reported me. I figured I'd better just get back to the marina and put my boat away before any other law enforcement types ran me down and tried to accuse me of raising a false alarm or setting a poor example for my fellow citizens or something like that.
As I approached the marina, I was hailed by an officer at the Coast Guard station directly across the harbor. I paddled over to him and was relieved to be greeted in a friendly manner. It was he who had taken the original report, and he asked me if I had paddled across the river. I told him I had. He felt certain that the caller had mistakenly thought I was in some sort of trouble, and that he would call off the search.
It's actually not the first time somebody has mistakenly thought I was in trouble. And I try so hard to look competent out there. Oh well.
Friday, March 2, 2018
So. Much. Water.
More heavy rain moved into the greater Memphis area this week, but I managed to schedule my paddling around it. The deluge hadn't arrived yet when Joe and I met for our loop of the harbor Tuesday morning; as a matter of fact, it was still sunny and beautiful. It's always satisfying to seize the best part of the day.
It rained and rained and rained on Wednesday to close out an incredibly wet month of February. I stayed in and started a new strength routine. That meant I was sore yesterday when I returned to the riverfront. But at least the rain had stopped. And the water was way up: it was 34.6 feet on the Memphis gauge when I put in. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints I ferried across the river to avail myself of some of the vast paddleable real estate that high water offers. On the Arkansas side directly across from downtown Memphis there's an expanse of bottomland that now contains part of the new "Big River Crossing" network of trails. The trails were established with pedestrians and cyclists in mind, but right now they are the domain of paddlers.
Today it was cool but bright and sunny. I did the new strength routine again. It appears that a lovely weekend is in store.
It rained and rained and rained on Wednesday to close out an incredibly wet month of February. I stayed in and started a new strength routine. That meant I was sore yesterday when I returned to the riverfront. But at least the rain had stopped. And the water was way up: it was 34.6 feet on the Memphis gauge when I put in. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints I ferried across the river to avail myself of some of the vast paddleable real estate that high water offers. On the Arkansas side directly across from downtown Memphis there's an expanse of bottomland that now contains part of the new "Big River Crossing" network of trails. The trails were established with pedestrians and cyclists in mind, but right now they are the domain of paddlers.
Today it was cool but bright and sunny. I did the new strength routine again. It appears that a lovely weekend is in store.
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