Redlining it in the camp's final two days

Friday turned out to be an action-packed day for me: two Miller's Runs during the day and competition in the Sea Dog race at Fish Hoek Beach in the early evening.

All week I'd been paddling a Fenn XTS surfski.  Many of this blog's readers are familiar with Epic skis, and the XTS is in about the same class as the V9.  With conditions somewhat on the light side Friday, I decided to try a longer, less-stable ski: the Fenn Swordfish.  I'd long had the impression that the Swordfish was Fenn's equivalent of the Epic V10 Sport, but I discovered that it's actually quite a bit less stable.  For the most part my two Miller's Runs went just fine on Friday, and I had a wonderful time, but there were numerous unstable moments where I missed a stroke or two because I didn't quite have my balance.  I flipped once during the first run.  In the end, I was just happy to have tried out something new.

As usual, I was good and tired by the end of my second Miller's, and I had a perfectly valid excuse to skip the Sea Dog race.  My three fellow campers all begged off.  But I had raced Sea Dog on my previous two trips here, and to me it just feels like an important part of the Fish Hoek experience.  So as six o'clock approached, I rallied and got myself to the starting line.

If the Sea Dog race has taught me anything, it's that back home in good old Memphis, Tennessee, I am your classic "big fish in a small pond."  If I lived in the greater Cape Town area, I probably wouldn't even be in the top one hundred racers here.  Friday evening about 130 craft were lined up on the beach, 65 of which were of my class, single surfski.  We waded into the surf, and when the horn sounded we mounted our skis and got down to business.  The course was the same as it had been on my two previous visits: five laps of a triangular circuit that included an upwind leg, a downwind leg, and a beam wind leg.  The first lap was chaotic with some stressful moments at the buoy turns, but eventually the field got strung out and I was able to work my way forward.  There were a few elite athletes in the field, people who have represented Team South Africa in various age groups, and by lap 3 I was getting lapped by some of them, including Dawid Mocke, coach of my camp this past week.  But I put that out of my mind and just competed as well as I could.  Eventually I was on lap 5 and gunning for the finish line.  I reached the beach just a step behind another international, a Mr. Bjørn Kristensen, who I think is from Sweden.  I tried to outrun him to the finish line, but he held me off, and so I settled for 27th place out of those 65 single surfskis.  The results of the single surfski class are posted here.  For some reason I'm listed as being in the 60+ age group, but I assure you I'm a spry 58 years old, thank you very much.

As for my overall position, the posted results have me in 72nd place out of 129 total racers.  But some of those 129 were on lifesaver boards and raced only three laps.  I was actually 58th out of 111 boats that completed five laps.  Thirty-one of the boats ahead of me were double surfskis.

Anyway... it had been a long time since I'd raced!  My last race had been way back in July, on the Mississippi River up at Alton, Illinois.  It felt good to be out there and be competitive, if not triumphant.

I was also gratified by how well my body handled the demands of two Miller's and a Sea Dog in one day.  But yesterday, the final day of our camp, it all caught up with me.

We waited until after lunchtime to get started yesterday, as the wind was light in the morning.  By the time we were driving up to Miller's Point, some nice conditions were developing.  I knew I was tired, and I was on no mission to set any speed records, but I was hoping for a relaxed, enjoyable time on some downwind swells.  I was back in the XTS and as we got started, I was feeling reasonably good.  I was waiting for good solid runs that I could get on without killing myself, linking onto some other runs, riding them as far as they would take me, re-gathering myself, and repeating the process.  I was tired, like I said, but all in all, times were good.

Then Dawid came over to give me some individual attention.

I think the world of Dawid, and I can't overstate the positive impact he's had on me as an athlete and a person in the seven or so years that I've known him.  But his coaching style can be, shall we say... over-enthusiastic.

My most vivid memories of all the times I've been on a downwind run with Dawid involve me already paddling as fast and as hard as I can while Dawid is off to the side shouting, "All right, Elmore, here it is... NOW!  FULL POWER!  GO!  GO!  GO!  GO!" not realizing that I simply have no sixth gear to shift into from fifth gear.

In the past I always sort of laughed it off--"Oh, it's just Dawid trying to get the best out of me"--but yesterday what had started out as a reasonably enjoyable downwinder quickly turned into a private hell for me.  No more was I catching runs at my own pace; Dawid was determined that I not let a single run get away from me.  And look, I get it: to do well in a downwind race--especially at the elite level where the Mockes have always roamed--you must endeavor to catch every run, and ride it with your eyes scanning for the next one.  Downwind requires an exquisitely high level of cardiovascular fitness, and sure, I've always been a reasonably fit guy--I did track and cross country as a teenager and I've spent my adult life training and racing in various canoe and kayak disciplines.  And anybody who's read this blog lately knows I worked pretty hard at home to get ready for this camp.  But in the Mockes' world everybody gets into surf lifesaving around age six, and swims and plays water polo and develops an aerobic capacity that is out of this world.  Believe me, I wish I had a background like that.  But I simply don't.

By yesterday my body was screaming ¡No mas! and the longer I listened to Dawid urging me to sprint harder and chiding me for not seeing the opportunities he could see, the more resentful I became.  I arrived at Fish Hoek Beach feeling utterly defeated, with none of the elation you're supposed to have as you finish a downwind run.

I wanted to let Dawid know how I felt, but I didn't want to blow up at him.  I admire and respect the man, for he is truly one of the giants of my sport, and on top of that he's a really nice guy.  Finally, I said, "I very much want to paddle as well as you want me to paddle.  But your coaching style really drives me insane sometimes."  Dawid nodded and admitted that he can get a bit overzealous, and that he could see that the physical demands of the week were taking their toll.  His brother Jasper, who was standing nearby, laughed and said, "Ellies (that's their nickname for me), that's the harshest thing I've ever heard you say!"

We had one more Miller's Run to do, and Dawid suggested that I team up with him in a double ski.  I replied, "It's a deal!"  As we drove back up to Miller's Point for the last time, I felt that the pressure was off.  By the time we were back on the water, the conditions were a bit beefier than they'd been on the first run.  Dawid was making all the crucial decisions while I, behind him in the stern seat, simply matched his strokes.  But I was watching and learning as much as I could.  All week long the Mockes had urged us to find "the rhythm of the ocean" and calibrate our efforts to match it.  Downwind paddling, they said, required one to focus in on one run at a time, and then "zoom out" to see what the ocean was doing on a larger scale.  I've always been pretty good at the "focusing in" part, but "zooming out" to see the big picture remains more of a challenge for me.  It doesn't help that I've lived my whole life inland and really haven't spent much time on the ocean.  But in the boat with Dawid I was able to relax and take in the wider view.  More often than not, I could see what the next move was going to be before Dawid led us into it.  There were moments when we had to paddle at maximum power, but because we were using the conditions so much more efficiently than I'd been on my own, I never felt the kind of exhaustion I was having in the single ski.  This was the fifth time I've done a downwind in a double with one of the Mockes, and in subtle ways it felt like the most productive for me.  It was also just plain FUN because we were riding one beautiful juicy swell after another.

I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge my fellow campers, who were an easygoing and upbeat group all week long.  We had Peter Scott of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia; Craig Taylor of Sydney, New South Wales, Australia; Brian Wicht of Kenilworth, Cape Town, South Africa; and yours truly.

With all our paddling in the bank, it was time for a little celebration.  After showering and freshening up, we headed up to Jasper's Fish Hoek home for a braai (cookout).  Jasper's wife Michaela and sons Reuben and Jesse were there, and Dawid's wife Nikki came over with their daughter Sarah.  We enjoyed one another's company one last time and savored our successful downwind camp.

As for my own self, I plan to be a tourist for a couple of days before returning to wintertime back home.  I'll let you know how it goes.

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