Board the Fjord (continued)

Saturday, May 11, 12024 Human Era (HE)

This is a continuation of the “Board the Fjord” post. Part one covers the background of the race and some basic geology of Səl̓ilw̓ət (Indian Arm).

Precipitated Physical Prep

Last year, for the Whey-ah-wichen Whipper, I had much more time for physical preparation (i.e., a warm-up). For details of the physiological benefits of a warm-up, check out this post, “Words on the Whey-ah-wichen Whipper (2.0).” This year, with less time, I multitasked through the pre-race meeting. Learning from past mistakes, I was sure to listen to the pertinent details of rules and regulations as well as the course. This time I explicitly heard the rules around drafting.

Pre-Race Meeting: Race Course Direction

Until this point, I was unsure of the direction of the race course. Hustling to make it on time, I missed my chance to see the posted course map, so I was all ears (and eyes) when the route was announced (and displayed) at the pre-race meeting.

There was an ebbing tide. High tide was 4.2 metres at 0729 hours, and low tide was 0.5 metres at 1526 hours. From the Rule of Thirds or the 50/90 Rule (and looking at the tide graph), the maximum flow would be around 1145 hours, roughly an hour after the race start time. With warm weather forecasted, there would be inflow winds. Given the conditions, I had assumed the course would be run clockwise, and that turned out to be the case.

The long course paddlers would leave Deep Cove making a left turn around the speed limit buoy before heading north up the arm, travelling through the channel between Lone Rock Point and Lone Rock Lighthouse, then making a right turn around an inflatable Starboard buoy. Next, paddlers would cross the fjord toward the northern end of the northmost Twin Islands before turning to head south. On the southern leg, Racoon Island was to be kept on the port side before heading to the east side of Jug Island to make a right turn. Then, it was southbound towards Hamber Island, which was to be kept on the port side before rounding the southeast side of Boulder Island and crossing the fjord once again to Grey Rocks Island. After rounding Grey Rocks Island, the last leg of the course was back to Deep Cove for the finish line.

Let the Race Begin

Board the Fjord Race Start from Deep Cove Webcam

The long-distance sit-down paddlers were the first heat, followed by all paddleboarders (prone and stand up). I felt much more relaxed for the launch compared to the Whey-ah-wichen Whipper. Training and experience paid off. However, I was still unsure what pace to hold over 14 kilometres. Staying in mostly oxidative metabolism was the safe approach, but of course, you want to push the pace and race closer to threshold. Unfortunately, what my threshold was for more than 90 minutes of hard work was an unknown. Thankfully, there were a few paddlers in the pack that I planned to pace with to find out.

Off the Start

As expected, the top paddlers shot out fast off the line. I took my time at the start, settling into a steady pace. My plan was to paddle a negative split. At least physiologically speaking. The last leg would include more contra-current paddling, so it would be tough to paddle faster at the finish.

There was a decent amount of wash from all the boat traffic, and I saw two experienced paddlers fall in early. Taking advantage of the traffic, I drifted in and out of draft lines but never settled into a solid spot to SUP.

Steady Slog

The northern leg was relatively uneventful. There were a few boat wakes to contend with, some helpful, others not, but it was mostly smooth sailing. Things briefly bottlenecked amongst the bordering boarders as we battled into the channel at Lone Rock Point, and I lost some standing. But on the other side of the channel, I was able to take advantage of some small bumps and regain my position. Another paddler capsized, and I gained more standing before we entered the Starboard buoy turn leading into the first fjord crossing.

Fording the Fjord

As the line of SUPers ventured away from the western shoreline into the more open water, I kept tabs on the surrounding motorized craft. Two boats were making their way up the arm fairly spaced out. One would cross in front of our group for sure. The other was less certain. The crossing was angled, and the wind was southerly, with a hint of easterliness. I aimed to take a more direct perpendicular crossing with the hope that the wind at my back would give a little extra push and provide some bumps leading into shallower waters around Twin Islands. It turned out my gamble worked and I seemed to be in faster water leading into the Twin Island turn, passing one boarder in the crossing and catching another at the turn. I think I also got a bit of a boost from the wake of the second motorboat which was carried southward by the prevailing winds.

Once on the backside of Twin Island, I dipped into a draftstream before deciding to maintain my pace and go my own.

The Do’s and Don’ts of Drafting

Others have commentated on the etiquette of drafting (e.g., “Drafting in Stand Up Paddling“, “How to Draft / SUP Racing with Blue Ewer“), so I will leave you to make your own judgements. With an estimated energy savings of up to 30% and being a legal rule for Board the Fjord, I was ready to draft wherever and whenever convenient. And perhaps unbeknownst to many is that not only does the drafter benefit but so does the draftee. While the exact numbers in SUP are unknown, an inference from cycling would seem to support the hypothesis.

Jockeying for Position

After gaining one slot in the standing, I would fall back to another rider whom I had passed earlier at the south end of the Twin Islands. At first, it did not seem that I would be able to match this rider’s newfound pace. I switched my sights from my slowness and set them on another leading paddler who seemed to be fading and centred back on my own race strategy.

Meandering. Me Wondering

As we entered the water separating Twin Islands from Racoon Island the SUPer I was stalking seemed to be swerving left and right. Contemplating the inefficiency of his convoluted path left me wondering how straight or swerving my SUPing was?

In the Lee of the Racoon

The water looked slightly calmer at the northern end of Racoon Island. I decided to attempt to take advantage of the leeward side of the island as a wind break from the southerly headwinds. However, I worried that the water might be slower with mini eddies swirling around the island. I quelled my concerns by hoping an eddy would be going in my direction and ferry me toward my destination. The other riders around me had taken a more direct route, staying farther to the right of Racoon Island. It is probably some cognitive bias, but I do think my route helped. It felt like I was able to close the gap slightly on the riders ahead of me. Though, once we were clear of the island and back into the open water some of the riders made gains again on me aside from a minor benefit I felt from the bumpier water created by the shallowness of black shoals south of Racoon Island.

Jockeying Around Jug

Unfortunately, I got gobbled up in the water between Racoon and Jug Island. The paddler who had fallen in before the inflatable Starboard buoy turn had caught up. As we made our way closer to Jug Island, I tried again to use the landmass as a windshield. Perhaps it helped, as I was able to catch up to my gobbling compatriot. I chased him to get into his slipstream but changed course when he dropped to his knees for a refuelling break.

Cruising Cosy Cove

Coming out of the channel between Jug Island and the point at Cosy Cove, I stayed closer to the shoreline than my competitive cohort. Incoming waves from the main arm were building up on the shallower water entering the channel, but I stuck to a direct line toward the point, taking the waves on as side wash on my starboard side. The other riders went further out, turning to take the waves head-on.

Cruising down the coast contouring Cosy Cove, our caravan of craftsmen continuously crisscrossed courses. I bounced from drafting the paddler on the outside (the meanderer) before settling in behind the paddler on the inside line.

Draft Train Exchanges

The light headwind and calmer water made the benefits of drafting blatantly apparent. I was easily cruising along behind my compatriot. There was another collective of contestants a few hundred metres ahead of us, and it felt like we were gaining on them. I started to wonder if maybe we would be able to catch them. I pulled up alongside my compatriot and called to him to slip into my draft stream. I suggested we could work together to catch the trio of paddlers ahead. We alternated intervals as we attempted to reel in the paddlers ahead en route to Hamber Island.

Our strategy seemed to work as we were within striking distance when we reached the rougher waters before the lateral beacon south of Hamber Island. The winds and currents were working on the water as we neared the mouth of the fjord. Coupled with the wakes of some passing pleasure crafts, the contour of the coast, and the crossing winds and currents from Admiralty Point and Roche Point, respectively, the waters were unsettled. It was a preview of the coming crossing. I attempted to use the leeward landmass to my advantage, cutting in closer to Boulder Island than the paddlers I was pursuing. At this point, I was leading our two-person draft train and when I looked back to see about doing another exchange I saw that I had distanced myself from my engine turned caboose.

Chaotic Crossing

Rounding the southside of Boulder Island I contemplated carving closer to shore to cut my course by cleaving between two crags cresting above the coastal waters, but cowered over consternation of clipping a fin. Once on the west side of Boulder Island, the water was chaotic. The inflowing winds were merging with the ebbing tide creating wind against tide conditions. I welcomed the bumps, hoping they would allow me to decrease the distance of those in the lead and increase the distance from those in pursuit. On my port side, a boat was making its way up the arm. If I could cross in front of it I might be able to take advantage of its wake. I picked up my paddling pace.

Hedging the wind shear, I aimed more southward. I did not want to follow the swells too much and then have to cut back against the wind to not be pushed past Grey Rocks Island. One paddler ahead of me hedged his odds and dropped to his knees to navigate the rough waters. I gobbled the ‘gobbler’ and closed the gap on the “kneeler’ but not enough to catch him. By the time we made it to the calmer water outside the main channel south of Grey Rocks Island, I was close to the crew in front but still trailing. I pushed trying to get closer to see if I could latch on to the group. But then disaster struck.

Bad Stars

Bad or unlucky stars is probably a better description than disaster. Regardless, rounding the northern tip of Grey Rocks Island I spotted some turbulent water. It was the mixing of the two channels. Assuming I could power through the rippling surface water I powered forward. In hindsight, I am not sure if the mixing currents were stronger than expected, my legs were fatigued from the chaotic channel crossing, I was just generally fatigued, or some combination of all these factors, but I fell in. I felt it coming as the nose of my board was taken by the water but I was not able to react in time, other than having a somewhat graceful fall. That enabled me to quickly remount my board but the damage was done. In the several seconds it cost me to remount and get back up to speed the riders I was chasing got further away and the close ones I was fleeing caught up. Perhaps they would have caught me without the mishap in the ensuing flatter waters. But my mishap may have cost me as many as three places (the emphasis is on “may” as I am being very generous with my capsize time loss).

The Final Push

During my fall the ‘draft-exchanger’ had passed me and the ‘kneeler’ had gotten away. Through the last leg, the ‘gobbler’ gobbled me again. I felt close at the corner near Cove Cliff and counted on some shoreline bumps to bolster my cause. But there was not enough gas in my tank for a valiant final effort. I was nowhere near the bonk-esk finish I had made at the Whipper last year, but I was by no means fresh. I crossed the line with a sprinting finish but it was only my own time that I was racing. I was alone in that section of the heat.

Marsellus Wallace

“Now the night of the fight you might feel a slight sting. That’s pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. It only hurts, it never helps. Fight through that shit because a year from now when you’re kicking it in the Caribbean, you’re gonna say Marsellus Wallace was right.”

Marsellus Wallace

Pride and ego are tricky things. For me, in a race, I want to do well. And “well” in this context means competing and beating others. For some, participation is enough for motivation and pleasure. For me, participation is part of it, but I get an extra kick from the competition. After last year’s Whey-ah-wichen Whipper where I came in last in my category, my ego was bruised. Since I had not formally trained, I took the loss in positive way and used that ‘failure’ as motivation to train. So my goals for Board the Fjord were to personally do better than last year’s Whipper and not be dead last.

Not Dead Last

While it is always better to be faster than you were, I did succeed. Not only was I faster than my pace in the Whipper (I should hope so as it was a full four kilometres shorter). I went from a 7:33/km in the Whipper to 7:24/km for the Fjord. I also was not dead last in my class. Not that there is anything wrong with being last, I just did not want to be last this time around. That would have been too hard on the ego. To have trained hard and then not seen a benefit would have been severely demoralizing. However, as I often joke with colleagues at work when clients do their exercise homework and miraculously get better, ‘whaddya know, training works‽’

Below is my race route recorded in the Garmin Connect app with a Garmin Forerunner 945 and stats summary.

Board the Fjord (continued)