Wicked Running Club

I didn’t quite get it together to register last year, or I might have been out of town (conveniently), so when Tim Clarke reminded me this year, I dutifully (and foolishly) registered, even though I’d only been in the water once and couldn’t find anyone to join me. Tim had his Half Iron Man excuse. I was able to slip in one “training” paddle, which was nothing short of harrowing and put me in the proper state of mind for whatever Blackburn might have in store for me (while also provoking insomnia). Unlike running, you can’t just pull over if things go South, and I was reminded of Billy Prentiss‘ observation of the Boston Marathon (which I had the pleasure of training for and running with your host, Billy Shea), “There are no guarantees for what happens on any given day, but you’ve done your training and you know you deserve to be there.” Well, the only things that qualified me for this particular event were having my lovely wife, Rachel Hunt, get the registration in on time, owning a nicer boat than I deserved, and not knowing any better.

After a grand total of an hour’s sleep on Friday night, Rachel and I set out for Gloucester at 5:30 AM. It was quite a sight, with all sorts of boats from ocean going shells to dories, 6-person outrigger canoes, surfskis and even a paddleboard (all divided into classes). After admiring the different craft, trying to get some tips from returning paddlers, and giving a pint of blood to the biting gnats that were swarming everywhere, I put in and headed upstream to the start. Our group set off like a shot, about 30 kayaks in a tight pack, creating an actual wake, and all jockeying for position in the Annisquam River. I confess that I didn’t really understand the reason for this initial scramble since we had about 20 miles to go, but I soon realized that it signified the beginning of a serious race for them and a great challenge for me.

We obstructed boat traffic (I loved listening to the captains talk about being obstructed by all the kayaks), weaved in and out of buoys and moored boats and were cheered on by people sitting on docks and bridges. I straightened my stroke but before long, the next classes of vessels began to pass (high performance kayaks, a couple doubles, and the outriggers). I settled into a rhythm, with Annisquam’s light and lovely little Lanesville slipping by. Waves picked me up and carried me around Halibut Point, where Rachel and I were engaged, giving me a great boost and a fun ride. Fortunately, there were a few other laggards paddling at my slow (but steady!) pace, and we (wisely) agreed that whoever spent more time on the water on this beautiful day was the winner - a very helpful frame of mind.

The water was still fairly calm, the winds were gentle, and the coastline was gorgeous. We passed the dories, amazed that one or two people could actually row around Cape Ann, but a bit jealous of some of the relative comforts of their boats. After paddling for three hours without a break, my hands were a bit sore, but thinking of Howard Blackburn (the inspiration for the Challenge) rowing for five days with hands frozen to his oars gave me a “little” perspective. http://www.blackburnchallenge.com/BCStory.asp

All that peace and tranquility changed as we reached East Gloucester and Dog Bar Breakwater. The seas became confused with irregular waves and swells simultaneously coming from all directions caused by the cluster of boats (lobster, speed, tour, Coast Guard Auxiliary) all around us and the rocky shoreline nearby. After looking at the sea all morning, the surface suddenly became impossible to read - looking a bit like a mosaic whose image I couldn’t put together. My boat had taken on a good bit of water over the day, and each wave resulted in a mini wave set inside the cockpit. With only a few miles left to go, my goal had suddenly become to not find myself floundering in the water as my trusty kayak bobbed away from me and towards the rocks. I told myself that this was just the sea’s gentle reminder of the need to respect and appreciate the otherwise perfect conditions we’d enjoyed all day. The fellow with whom I’d been paddling and I got quiet and focused on the matter at hand, riding and dodging waves, snaking in between boats, and finally rounding the breakwater. With only a mile or so left, we tried for a strong finish, and even though the horizon seemed to take a few steps back, we made it past the Greasy Pole (and a couple other kayaks), and reached a very welcome finish–a great party on the beach. I wasn’t nearly as tired or winded as I was at the end of the marathon, but I did experience a certain familiar out-of-body feeling. Having circumnavigated the Cape on her bicycle, Rachel cheered me in, backed by a fine band, friendly folk, excellent barbecue–and free Ipswich Ale, all of which made the landing delicious in every sense. I was tired and nearly last in my class, but confident I’d be back next year with a bit more prior paddling under my belt, and hopefully accompanied by friends eager to compete in the great Blackburn Challenge.