As Thursday went on the wind shifted more to the southeast. After studying the wind forecast, Dawid and Jasper decided to take us someplace new for the afternoon. We loaded up the trailer and headed up to the Atlantic coast north of Cape Town for a downwind run from Milnerton to Big Bay.
Having never paddled anyplace in South Africa but False Bay, I was glad for some new scenery. I'd heard that the water is quite a bit colder on the Atlantic side than on the False Bay side, but as we waded in from the beach it didn't seem too bad.
Once offshore, I had trouble finding the kind of productive rhythm I'd found on the Miller's Run Thursday morning. The conditions weren't that big, but they seemed more technically challenging to me for some reason. One thing I didn't pick up on is that I should have had my boat pointed left while searching for a run, as opposed to right on a typical day on Miller's. Afterward I asked Jasper how I could recognize such a thing in the future, and he gave me a good explanation, but I still had to chew on it for a while to gain a fuller understanding.
The wind died down quite a lot overnight from Thursday to yesterday. Yesterday morning we availed ourselves of this opportunity to take a scenic tour. We drove down into the Cape Point Nature Reserve and put our boats in the water at Platboom Beach on the west side of the Cape Peninsula. Then we paddled down around the Cape of Good Hope, past the Cape Point lighthouse, and up into False Bay, finishing at Buffels Bay.
The weather was very different from the warm sunny days I'd been enjoying on this trip: at Platboom a dense fog hung over the water and the chilly conditions seemed almost lugubrious. As I paddled into the shore break I took some splashes of icy Atlantic water in my face and chest. We'd gotten an early start and if I hadn't been awake yet, I sure was now. As we rounded the southern end of the peninsula we left the fog behind and had a lovely view of the rocky formations at this southwestern-most tip of the African continent.
At one point Dawid had his camera out and instructed us to paddle between him and the Cape Point so he could snap our pictures. I did so, and he scolded me for passing too far away and commanded that I circle around and do it again. I did so. I made sure to be much closer on my second pass:
My snarky grin says it all.
The Cape Peninsula boasts some wildlife that seems pretty exotic to this simple guy from the Mid South United States. Driving in and out of the area we saw ostriches, elands, and baboons.
I was back at the B and B around noon. I had some lunch and rested up good for my second big event of the day: the Sea Dog race!
Races in the Sea Dog Paddle Series take place on twenty Friday evenings from October into March (spring, summer, and fall in the southern hemisphere). Put on by the Fish Hoek Surf Lifesaving Club, the event bears the proud tagline "Never Cancelled!" You can see it above and below the skull and crosspaddles:
This would be my second Sea Dog; I did my first during my visit in February 2020. It's five laps of a triangular course out beyond the impact zone of Fish Hoek Beach. One leg of the course is upwind, one is downwind, and one is in a beam wind. One lap is maybe, I don't know, 1200 meters? Not a great distance. The race includes a couple of challenges that this inland dweller still hasn't learned to do as well as he should: a start into the surf and a finish on the beach.
There didn't seem to be any particular limit to how far into the surf racers could wade while awaiting the starting gun. I got myself out into water that was well over knee-high, but many other racers waded farther. When the gun went off and we mounted our skis, I was already well back in the pack. I paddled hard into the surf and tried my best to improve my position.
When I did this race two years ago I overtook other racers on the beam-wind and upwind legs, but gave those places right back on the downwind leg. It seemed as though everybody was doing the downwind better than I was. Now, with two more years of downwind wisdom, greatly enhanced this week, under my belt, I was determined to do better. As we rounded the buoy from the upwind leg into the downwind leg, I immediately looked for those little runs that would lead me to bigger ones. I did a reasonably good job on the first downwind leg and that gave me some confidence to push the pace on the beam-wind and upwind legs to come.
I was still well back in the overall field, but I was picking a lot of people off. I moved by as many people as I could in the non-downwind parts and then tried to hold my position in the downwind. Of all the people I passed, I don't think anybody passed me back permanently.
I was getting passed by a few people, however. One guy paddling an elite-level ski with sponsors' stickers on it flew by me, and I thought to myself, "Did this guy start late? He's clearly much better than I am." Then Dawid came by, shouting a few words of encouragement at me, and then I put it together: I was being lapped. Dawid would tell me later that the first guy who lapped me was junior world champion Uli Hart. After Dawid, two or three similarly-world-class types gained a lap on me. I might be a big fish in the little pond back in Memphis, Tennessee, but here I was the tiniest minnow.
I stuck to my own plan and continued doing the best I could. Finally I was surfing downwind for the fifth and final time, and I steered my boat toward the finish flags on the beach in front of the surf lifesaving club. I sprinted hard to keep from being spun out by a breaking wave, and then unhooked my leash and dismounted the ski. Dragging my boat along, I ran as hard as the knee-deep water would let me, up onto the beach and between the flags. The finish line official recorded my race number, and that was it... I was done.
As of this writing the results are not yet posted on the Sea Dog results page. The most recent results currently displayed are from this past December 15, so the race officials are apparently not so efficient in getting them up. Oh well. I checked my watch before and after the race and determined that my time was in the neighborhood of 34 minutes. I hope to see exactly where I ended up sooner or later.
After the race I rejoined my fellow Camp Mocke participants for our second of two group dinners. We ate at the Cattle Baron restaurant in the Harbour Bay Mall near Glencairn Beach. I ordered--what else?--a steak.
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