Big Blue 24 Hour Adventure
Santa Monica, California 2005
Pre & Post Race Pictures
Ocean Carnage.
Not the washed up wreckage from a sunken ship or the bloody pieces of skeletal debris after a shark attack, but something close to that. In this case, it involved 60 racers with about 30 boats, varying in size, shape and seating capacity, all desperately trying to negotiate the surf on the Santa Monica coastline. The location was Oxnard, California to be precise. And the occasion? This was the first 24 hour race of the Big Blue Adventure Series. And the opening scene was almost absurd. All the racers had been prepped the day before and required to practice their exit and entry techniques with the craft they would be using in the race the next morning. Counting the wave series, waiting out the rough ones and practicing patience in order to save some skin….wading up to your knees and then sometimes retreating a few yards when the conditions rapidly changed your plan….these were the necessary skills you needed for a race start like this one. But on race day morning, not only did most of what was learned quickly forgotten, but there was the added dimension of a mass start - two lines of racers and boats, all way over-caffeinated, nervous and anxious to get out and over the surf and all the other competitors. Our team knew what we were in for. Our newest teammate, Jay, was a past resident of the area and knowledgeable on the 'ins and outs' of surfing. He taught us that to be patient, meant saving your ass. And that timing the waves would save you minutes that would be lost by rushing your entry, flipping your boat and retreating to start again. We chose the second row wisely, figuring we would let all the others surge ahead. Here, we would watch, see what mistakes they made by misreading the waves and then slide in behind them. But as the gun went off, what happened next reminded me of the opening scene of 'Saving Private Ryan'. Okay, well, maybe not quite so bloody. But as I stood there watching over-eager racers get pummeled by the waves like schoolyard weaklings, kayaks getting flipped and spit back up on shore with gear, paddles and backrests flung aimlessly about in the waves - this was the movie that came to mind. We only had about 30 seconds to take this all in, before we had to concentrate on our team's immediate entrance safety, and somehow dodge the bowheads of kayaks that were torpedoing past our legs and heads.
We were thankful we had helmets on - a race requirement we initially questioned for an ocean paddle. Today, as my lower leg took on the full force of the end of a 60 pound kayak and Brad and Nic had to dive to avoid getting struck in the head by a out of control boat, I could see why. But somehow, we got out on the water. I remember coming close to tears wincing from the pain in my shin but clawing desperately at the waves with my paddle as Brad shoved us through a well-timed wave series. But then suddenly we were both in. And we were off-shore. We looked to our right and saw Nic and Jay, both upright in their kayak and paddling wide-eyed as they too escaped the madness of the beach scene. And so this is how we started our day on Saturday June 11th. The next 24 hours would be filled with challenges of equal proportion, but after the start we just had, we just sighed with relief and settled into a relaxed, steady paddling rhythm.
We spent the next two hours paddling our sit-on-tops kayaks along the California coastline. The conditions were fairly good for racing, slightly overcast but with a headwind to give us some challenge. The course on paper, looked fairly straight-forward: a five mile out and back with a checkpoint halfway through. But we learned the day before at the race briefing that there was a catch. At the halfway buoy, one team member would need to jump overboard, swim to shore with their gear, and do a five mile run/trek to an additional checkpoint 1300 feet above us. The rest of the team would turn around, continue to paddle and then rendevouz with the on-foot trekker somewhere along the beach on the return. This meant one of double-kayaks would have to be paddled solo, and the 'somewhere along the beach ' location was a surfline with a nasty kick in the last 50 yards. Nic was our designated 'swimmer-hiker' and he did well, managing to run the entire distance in his water shoes.
Brad and I in one kayak and Jay soloing the other, managed to land our crafts with only a small flip at the end, on the designated beach to wait for Nic. This was a nice break, as we got about 30 minutes to eat, rest and fully assess the hematoma that had been growing in size on my shin. As we had entered the water at the start, we were too busy working our kayak around large swells of water to really get a look at the hit my lower leg took at the start. Now, fluid-filled and bulging out of my shin with a grayish 3inch bubble of edema, it looked more like a 'third eye' or an entity that had taken on a life on its own. Fortunately, the swelling had stretched my skin enough to numb it a little. So although, its grossly misshapen form drew the attention of many racers, it didn't really hurt too much. Nic arrived soon thereafter, and again, we had to scrutinize the crashing surfline, watching other entries and then getting ourselves out on the ocean for the final paddling segment. However, this was far more manageable than the start, as the race crew wisely limited the participants to two boats at a time to avoid chaos and potential injury.
The next two segments began with a 17 mile mountain-bike ride which had been limited to paved or gravel fire roads due to recent heavy rains that had washed out many trails and put several others at risk. The Santa Monica foothills are well known for their excellent hiking and biking trails. So the park rangers, although fully supportive of the race itself, were pretty strict on protecting them. But again, what first looked like an uninteresting ride, quickly became a 2 hour grunt, as the course wound up the famous, and extremely steep, Mullholland Drive. We made our way slowly up this seemingly never-ending, winding road, chatting about our strategy for the next few hours. I was very thankful for our paved path and the good grip of my tires, as I was barely traveling more than 5-6 miles an hour. That is..until I jumped on the 'Jay train'. The guys are always awesome about going my pace when we ride, even though their quads outsize mine by at least a 2:1 ratio. In the case of Jay Merritt, our forth and newest teammate, I wouldn't be exaggerating too much by saying…his might be closer to 3. Six foot three, and weighing over 220 pounds, this gentle giant was all power, and ever so willing to offer a girl a tow to pick up the pace and balance out the efforts being made. Brad and Nic also do this willingly in any race we are in, so as I took hold of the tow handle, I was expecting the usual 20% effort decrease I usually get from the leg strength of my teammates. But the acceleration I felt had me frantically shifting up 2-3 gears just so I could match Jay's pedal speed! Good God! What does this man eat?, I wondered. I gave Nic a half-shocked, amazed look as we sped by him as if he were standing still. Wow. The Jay Train - I would be buying a ticket several more times over the next 24 hours.
Over the next 8-10 hours, we would find ourselves swimming across swollen rivers to reach trekking checkpoints and canyoneering through rocky and overgrown riverbeds. We waded up to our knees in murky water and made our way across sheer, granite walls where had to pull a few 'spiderman moves' to find handholds in its face. We managed to add on a few hours and couple thousand feet of elevation gain due to accidental mis-plotting one of the checkpoint coordinates. But we didn't let it dampen our spirits. And we found ourselves actually enjoying this additional adventure, as we scrambled hand over foot and bushwhacked through terrain that had obviously not had human contact in quite some time. Making the best out of adversity is one the strengths of our team. But we had to remind ourselves that this was an adventure race, not a weekend outing. Next time, we'd be more careful with our route planning.
We traveled through the night, hiking our bikes up rocky fire roads too steep to ride. Everyone seemed to 'on' this race, although I struggled in this second section of mountain-biking due to poor attention to my food needs earlier in the day. Thankfully Brad, other wise nick-named 'lunchbox' due to his knack for pulling out the most varied and abundant selection of tasty treats from his pack, kept force-feeding me calories.
We ended the race in just a little over 23 hours, five hours longer than our original estimate. These race directors really knew how to power-pack a short course. We had done over 12,000 feet of climbing in only 70-80 miles. My leg had managed to tolerate the course with little complaint due to a lot of ibuprofen and well-timed Tylenol. But as we jogged down the last steep, winding trail to the finish line, I was admittedly looking forward to getting off my feet. We finished in 6th place despite the additional mileage and my limited on-foot speed. We were happy. This was the warm-up to the season for our team. And we had worked out some kinks and came out excited for what was next on our schedule - Panorama, British Columbia and a 3 day stage race called Sea to Summit.
Cheers,
Jen.