When I woke up yesterday morning, the southeasterly wind had returned. My fellow campers and I headed out to see what fun could be had on the Miller's Run. The Miller's Run starts at Miller's Point in False Bay. From there, the paddler aims for the Roman Rock Lighthouse, and then continues on to Fish Hoek Beach.
The plan was to do a morning run, take a break, and do an early-afternoon run. Dawid had us spend the first part of the morning run doing a couple of drills. The first drill challenged us to catch some runs while taking as few strokes as possible over a five-minute period. A dozen or so strokes would be required to get on a run, but then the idea was to ride the run as long as possible, reading the water and keeping the nose of your boat in the trough as the trough moved around. Dawid had to add the caveat that each of us must catch a run--we couldn't just float for five minutes. He had to bark at me a couple of times for not trying hard enough to catch a run; I, meanwhile, was frustrated by how many strokes I had to cough up just to get on a run.
The next drill had us maintain a constant stroke rate--raising one's cadence in order to get established on a run was forbidden. Instead, each paddler had to keep his stroke rate the same, and simply apply more power during the critical moment of catching a run. Paddling on flatwater back home, I do lots of workouts at various stroke rates and degrees of power, so this drill seemed simple enough to me. But it was trickier doing it in downwind conditions. It often seemed that I simply couldn't put enough power into my strokes to get on a run at the moderate stroke rate I'd chosen.
These drills were very much like the drills I've done in the past for whitewater slalom of for flatwater in the harbor: they were mentally taxing more than anything else. In no time at all, my brain was tired even though my body wasn't.
Once we reached the lighthouse, Dawid set us free to ride the downwind conditions into Fish Hoek Beach. At this point I started having the most fun of this trip so far. I think my body is becoming more and more adapted to the stresses of downwind paddling, and also the conditions were much better defined than they were on Sunday. I landed on the beach feeling good and looking forward to run number two.
Jasper had missed our morning run because he had a prior commitment with another group, but he rejoined us for the afternoon. This second run was to be a good old-fashioned downwinder with no drills or special instructions, though Jasper did say he wanted us to let the conditions do the work as much as possible. In other words, he wanted us doing no hard sprints to get over that extra bump; if a big juicy run wasn't within obvious reach, he said, let it go and wait for the next one.
We set off from Miller's Point, and Jasper moved among us to provide coaching. Noticing that each time I caught a run I was moving both right and left in search of the next one, he told me to move only to the right, because that was where the next one was presenting itself under today's condition. I did as he said, and as the run went on I began to understand what he was talking about. I settled into a good rhythm with the ocean and was linking runs with nice regularity. There were times where I was gasping for breath and had to back off a little, but then I was able to get back in the flow quickly, and I believe that the fitness training I'd done back home was paying off.
From the lighthouse in to the beach the conditions became more concentrated, and at times more confused because of rebounding waves off Elsie's Peak. A couple of times it took a timely brace to save myself from flipping. As the beach drew nearer I chased runs as aggressively as I dared. The moment my bow touched the beach I looked at my watch and saw that it was an even 49 minutes since Jasper had sent us off. This was the first time I'd ever broken 50 minutes on the Miller's Run. I hadn't really been that focused on clocking a fast time--a couple of times during the run I'd stopped paddling altogether to listen to some advice that Jasper was offering. My main goal had been to go out and enjoy the run as much as I could, and sometimes that's the most important element in producing a fast time.
(For context: the all-time Miller's Run record for a solo paddler is 36 minutes, 28 seconds by Uli Hart of Fish Hoek. Mr. Hart achieved that time just a couple of weeks ago, breaking the record of 36:36 set by one Jasper Mocke.)
Needless to say, I was in high spirits. I'd clocked my best time, my body felt good, my cardiovascular endurance was there, the conditions were ideal, the water and the waves and the sunshine were beautiful... it all added up to a super day.
The wind continued to blow hard overnight. By this morning it seemed to have let up slightly, but there was no shortage of conditions out on the Miller's Run. Today the Mockes mixed things up a little by putting a couple of us in double surf skis with them. For the morning run, Jasper was the lucky man who drew me for a partner.
We set off from Miller's Point, and while Jasper, in the bow seat, seemed to have no trouble reading the conditions, he remarked that they were quite tricky. The main reason was that the ground swell was running from our right to our left, toward the shore, while the wind swell was running straight on--in other words, they were at an angle to each other. In the early going our main strategy was to get up some speed on the ground swell and surf it to the right and look for wind swell to catch that would keep us moving toward the lighthouse. We did that again and again; in the stern seat, I simply followed Jasper's lead, and we glided merrily along. Once in a while we would pause so that Jasper could provide coaching to one of my fellow campers, Craig Taylor of Sydney, Australia, who was paddling a single ski. Craig was having his difficulties in the confusing conditions, and Jasper was encouraging him to focus on just one or two things so that he could have some success.
Once we'd passed the lighthouse and set our sights on the beach, Jasper pointed out various aspects of the conditions for me. For a period we rode the same swell, though it was hard to detect because of all the little bumps we were moving over in the process. Jasper pointed it out, and I could in fact see it, but I was doubtful that I would be able to see it while paddling out there in my own.
We arrived at the beach, and though we had thrown in some hard sprints during our run, I felt fresh, because the guy leading my boat is one of the best in the world at navigating downwind conditions with very little wasted effort.
For our second run today, I was on my own in a single ski. The good news was that the wind had shifted a bit so that the ground swell and wind swell were more lined up. Nevertheless, I found the conditions harder to read than I had yesterday. I didn't quite have the power to get onto a ground swell right away, so I used smaller runs to get my speed up with the intention of linking onto one of those big beautiful waves. But too often when I thought I had a good run to link onto, all of a sudden it wasn't there. As a result, I felt like I was taking lots and lots of wasted strokes and I had to back off to catch my breath frequently.
I would say that I had fun during this second run. I didn't feel as miserable as Craig had looked in the morning. But my run was a lot of work... too much work, I'm afraid.
I believe even elite downwind surfski racers are not a hundred percent efficient. They're simply more efficient than guys like me. The best thing I know to do is look at all this philosophically. I didn't come away an elite paddler from my first visit to Fish Hoek; nor was I an elite paddler after my second visit. And I won't be after this third visit, either. But each time, I've learned little things, many of which I can't even really articulate. On my second visit I was able to build on what I'd learned during my first, and on this visit I am once again building on past learning. The key to enjoying these trips is to appreciate that process and knowing that each day I'm a little bit wiser than I was the day before.
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