I arrived at the site of the race start, the Schmidt Recreational Complex, in the mid-afternoon Friday. With a couple of hours to kill before the race check-in opened, I did a 60-minute paddle on the Ohio, paddling down to the Daniel Carter Beard Bridge and back. It was hard to detect any flow in the river, but down at the bridge I could just barely discern an eddy behind a piling. So we would get at least a tiny bit of help in our nine-mile journey down the river the next day. I did a set of four 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals and paddled back to the Schmidt Complex to get myself checked in.
The Ohio River Paddlefest has been going on for nearly two decades. The event is put on for the benefit of Adventure Crew, an organization that gets urban youth in the Cincinnati area involved in outdoor activities. The Paddlefest has become enough of a local institution that permanent signs have been installed on city park facilities:
According to the event's website,
The Ohio River Paddlefest is recognized as the nation’s largest paddling celebration with over 2,200 participants traveling 9 miles through downtown Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky in canoes, kayaks, and other human-powered craft.I wondered where they got that participant number, because at the close of online registration only about 60 people had signed up for the race. I found the apparent answer when I visited the check-in booth: a couple of thousand people would be participating in a "tour," rather than the actual race, down the course. I believe the race is actually a later addition to this event: I've been aware of it going on for only a half-dozen years or so.
But that's really no matter. I do what I like to do whether it's the most popular thing or not. I picked up my race packet and went to pitch my tent in an area of the park where event participants were allowed to camp.
Cincinnati is located not so far within the western boundary of the Eastern Time zone. That meant that nightfall occurred well after nine o'clock Friday, and that dawn would not come until around six o'clock yesterday morning. Have I mentioned that the race was scheduled to begin at 7 AM? If I'd wanted to race in the dark, I'd have registered for the Au Sable Marathon.
In any case, doing this race required some adjustments to my biological clock. I retired for the night before 9 PM and set my alarm for 4 AM so I would have time for some coffee and breakfast and all the elements of my pre-race ritual. As 7 AM approached and I maneuvered my boat to the starting line alongside a few dozen fellow competitors, the sun was not quite up over the ridge to the east. But it was clear we would be racing in lovely weather and I was glad to be getting it done before the heat of the day descended on the region.
The starting gun fired and within the first half-mile I found myself alone in first place. I consider that position to be a mixed blessing. Certainly it's more fun to be in first place than, say, last place. But being all alone up there means there are no wakes to ride, and it means you're sort of a sitting duck for competitors lurking within striking distance.
In this case I was glad to have my G.P.S. device on board, because it helped me make sure I was keeping my boat moving and not lapsing into some more lackadaisical pace that would allow the pack to reel me in. In the early miles I was maintaining 8.0 miles per hour without much trouble. Based on what I know about my abilities on flatwater, I estimated that I was getting between 1.0 and 1.5 mph of help from the current. I made up my mind to keep myself moving at or above 8.0 for the whole race.
Besides having the G.P.S. to tell me how far I'd traveled, I was aware of where I was on the course because of the seven bridges we would pass beneath. I entertained myself by keeping count as I advanced past the Daniel Carter Beard Bridge, the Purple People Bridge (yes, that's what it's called on the Google map), the Taylor Southgate Bridge, the John A. Roebling Suspension Bridge, the Clay Wade Bailey Bridge, and the Brent Spence Bridge.
When I crossed under the last bridge, a railroad bridge that's nameless on the Google map, I had almost three miles left to go. By this time I was having to work a lot harder to maintain 8 mph. I would swear I was getting less help from the current, but the nearest dam on the Ohio is quite some distance down from Cincinnati, and I was staying in the part of the river where the main flow should be. Maybe I was just getting tired. My speed was dipping as low as 7.6 mph at times.
At last, as I rounded a long, large-radius bend to the right, the big yellow buoy marking the finish came into view beyond some barges moored against the Ohio shore. I bore down and paddled as hard as I could until I passed between the buoy and the dock at the Riverside Park boat ramp. The finish line officials had a device that read the timing chip strapped to my right wrist, and it measured my time at one hour, 7 minutes, 49 seconds.
I circled around to watch my nearest competitors come in to the finish. A tandem surf ski paddled by Clint Bradley and Will Hanson was the second to cross the line, clocking 1:10:33. Just behind the tandem in 1:10:40 was one of my housemates out in the Columbia Gorge a couple of weeks ago, Michael Meredith of the Detroit area. Five seconds behind Michael was the top female finisher, Hollie Hall of South Point, Ohio. The complete results are available here.
I grabbed a shuttle bus back to the Schmidt Complex to get my car and returned to Riverside Park just in time for the awards ceremony. For anybody who wishes I would post more photos of myself on "the podium," here's the shot from yesterday's race:
From left to right, it's yours truly, Michael Meredith, and the third-place finisher in the men's race boat class, Erik Snider.
I should add that nowadays the race is part of the Kentucky Waterman Series. KWS founder Gerry James was on hand to perform the race director's duties alongside Mr. Adrian Angell.
One of nice things about the race's early start was that I still had the whole day ahead for the trip back to Memphis. After eating a couple of pretty good tacos from a food truck that was parked nearby, I loaded my boat and hit the road. It was a long trip home, but at least I gained an hour when I crossed back into good old Central Time.
I slept good in my own bed last night.
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