The Battle On The Bayou canoe and kayak race took place today for the eleventh time in 12 years (last year's event was called off due to COVID-19). Racers gathered on the waterfront down the hill from the Gulf Hills Hotel and received a few instructions from race director Ed Hornsby before getting in their boats. Here are a few photos I shot of the pre-race activity:
The race starts in a cove in the eastern reaches of the Back Bay of Biloxi. Paddlers proceed up into Old Fort Bayou and follow this waterway some six and a half kilometers to an island at Percy Miller Park. After rounding this island counterclockwise, they come back down the bayou and finish where they had started. The entire race distance, as measured by my G.P.S. device, is 13.5 kilometers (8.4 miles).
We organized our boats along an imaginary starting line, and at 9:00 AM we were off. I had a good start and was in the lead as we approached the left turn up into the bayou, but Mike Herbert of Rogers, Arkansas, was moving up fast on my left. I moved onto his starboard wake, then onto his stern wake so as not to interfere with his turn. In the many times I have raced Mike in the past he has pulled away from me quickly, so it was an unfamiliar sensation for me when my bow bumped up against his stern several times. He barked his displeasure at me, and I had to reassure him that they were merely love taps.
As we moved up the bayou toward the Washington Avenue drawbridge, Mike and I found ourselves in a lead pack that also included Roy Roberts of Chattanooga, Tennessee, and a tandem boat paddled by Mississippi Gulf Coast residents Jeb Berry and Nick Kinderman. I had moved onto Mike's port-side wake, and then moved into the lead. The 60-year-old Mike might not be the same athlete he was 30 years ago, when he was winning medals at the world championships, but he's still a formidable paddler, and I pondered this unfamiliar position in which I found myself. Has my new training program already made me that much better? Is Mike not feeling well? Or is he just toying with me?
For most of the first half of the race I stayed in first place. I backed off the pace several times to see if Mike would move up, but for the most part he seemed content to let me lead. I was feeling good but was wary of working too hard too soon.
There are a couple of spots in the bayou where it's not so obvious which way to go, and the locals Nick and Jeb had to save Mike and me from going the wrong way. Finally we reached the narrow channel that runs by Percy Miller Park, and Mike sprinted into the lead. "Here we go," I thought. I sprinted hard to stay on his stern wake. He surged a couple more times, and I managed to cover each move, hoping that maybe we could open a gap on the other two boats.
By the time we'd rounded the island and were heading back toward Gulf Hills, I was feeling some fatigue working its way into my body. It was also a lot warmer because the breeze that had kept us cool in the first half of the race was now at our backs. I stayed laser-focused on Mike's wake. We did manage to put some distance on our pursuers, but not enough to give me much of a cushion if Mike dropped me. As we approached the drawbridge we navigated several tight meanders, and somehow Jeb and Nick managed to pull even with Mike and me in spite of their boat's length. As we passed beneath the bridge Mike and the tandem threw in a surge and dropped me.
We were now in the race's final 2000 meters, and I was feeling some considerable agony. It was now a race between Roy and me for third place, and as Old Fort Bayou opened up into the Back Bay, Roy worked his way in front of me. There was a pesky crosswind blowing and I could feel the last of my energy being sucked away. Some self-pity creeped in and I had visions of the other three boats pulling farther and farther ahead over the last kilometer. At the same time, I held out some hope that if I could just survive until the last couple of hundred meters, maybe I could dig deep and surprise myself. All I could do was take the best strokes I could, and keep the boat moving.
We made the right turn into the final 400-meter stretch. Mike and the tandem were in a fight for the overall win, while Roy had about a boatlength lead on me. Somehow I managed to suck up the pain and mount a final attempt to beat Roy.
I thought Mike's world-class background would be enough to carry him to victory, but Jeb and Nick stayed strong and pulled away from Mike at the end. Their time of one hour, 11 minutes, 6 seconds was six seconds faster than the three-time Olympian's.
Meanwhile, though I knew overtaking Roy was a long shot, I gave it my best. Inch by painful inch, I moved from a boatlength back to a half-boatlength back to a quarter-boatlength back. Our battle was exciting enough to elicit a few cheers from the onlookers on the bank, but in the end Roy prevailed, crossing the line less than a full second before I did. The official times were 1:11:37.4 for Roy and 1:11:38.0 for me. I take that six tenths of a second with a grain of salt because the finish line wasn't equipped with an electronic eye or anything like that, but suffice it to say it was a close one.
Mike's daughter Savanna Herbert was the fastest female finisher, clocking 1:21:09. That was good enough for sixth place overall. The complete results are posted here.
My time was about 13 seconds faster than my previous best time on this course. My coach has told me that it's not useful to compare times from different days, but considering the wind we had on the course today, I'm pleased with my time. I'm also pleased with myself for pushing through the pain to finish strong. That took a lot of the sting out of being fourth-best out of the four boats in the lead pack. Considering that I'm training through races in this early part of the season, I think I did okay today and hope I can build on this effort as the season moves along.
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