Saturday, May 10, 12025 Human Era (HE)
Board the Fjord By-Pass
And this is where things get fishy. Battling my way against the flow of water to get to the left side of Jug Island, I noticed that ‘Red Fanatic’ and ‘One SUP’ were taking more direct lines. I started to wonder why. Were they following the flow of water and then going to cut back around the island to make the turn? Were they defaulting to the shorter course? In the pre-race meeting, the race organizers emphasized that changing your course or calling it quits were options. No, they couldn’t be defaulting to the shorter course. We were well past the turn-off point for that. Were they calling it quits‽ Maybe they were too cold from multiple submersion coupled with wind chills from being wet? Whatever the case, it didn’t matter. I refocused on Jug Island and battled the chop to get to the left side of the island.
The leeward side of Jug Island was calm and I collected myself momentarily as I paddled onward back toward the main section of the arm, all the while taking care to keep watch for shallow rocks on the north side of Jug given the tide.
WTF: What the Fjord!
Coming out of the calm water to cross back into the main channel, I was surprised by how chaotic the waters became. All the wind waves seemed to be bending around Jug and piling up against the point at Cosy Cove. Lowering my centre of gravity, I braced to get back into the bigger waves and fast-moving water. Ahead of me, moving quickly through the fast flowing waters with the wind at their backs, were ‘One SUP’ with ‘Red Fanatic’ close behind. But they weren’t turning towards Deep Cove, as I had assumed. They were heading downwind, continuing straight on! Cheaters, I thought. What the fuck‽ Who joins a recreational race to cheat? Or maybe they weren’t cheating. Maybe they didn’t know where they were going? I didn’t have time to contemplate their errors or intentions. I set my sights on passing them despite them cheating.
Cheetah Cheats
Getting far enough out to clear the point at Cosy Cove, I turned to join the fast-moving cheats in the downwind stream. The waves were bending towards the easterm shoreline of Səl̓ilw̓ət (Indian Arm), so I angled my approach outward, trying to take advantage of the waves but still maintaining mostly southward motion. Was it better to follow the water’s flow or hedge my line between the wind, water, and my ultimate destination? I went with the latter.
On the south side of Cosy Cove, I caught ‘Red Fanatic’. Now it was time to catch ‘One SUP’, who I was gaining on, but only slowly.
This section was of the course was fun with the wind at my back and medium-sized waves pushing me along. It was all downwinding from Cosy Cove to Hamber Island. At Hamber Island, I entered into the leeward shadow of the wind, no longer aided along as I paddled past Hamber Island and then on toward Boulder Island.
Green Ghost
Somewhere along the backside of Boulder Island, I heard paddle strokes. ‘New Carolina’ had caught me was my first thought, so I was surprised when a new SUPer surpassed me. Seemingly out of nowhere, a green ghost had appeared. A new rider on a Starboard Sprint, sporting a spiffy sea-green suspension suit (i.e., PFD), slipped past me.
Rounding the south side of Boulder Island, I had dropped a spot to the ‘Green Ghost’. But for some strange reason, ‘One SUP’ had made a wiiiide turn to round Boulder Island and cross to Grey Rocks Island, so I was able to stay in the same relative rank. I couldn’t help but wonder if ‘One SUP’ had realized that he had cut the earlier corner around Jug Island and was now trying to make amends, adding in some extra distance.
Back in the bumpier waters of the open channel, I was in close pursuit of the ‘Green Ghost’. Could I catch him at Grey Rocks Island?
The Final Mash
Rounding Grey Rocks Island, we entered the headwind again. It was going to be an upwind finish. Between Grey Rocks Island and the edge of Cove Cliff ‘One SUP’ caught me again. I was now battling not to lose any more ground (water) in the final slog. An upwind finish felt like cruel and unusual punishment at the end of 14 kilometres. Adding insult to injury, I spotted a mermaid in the final stretch just after getting out of the rougher upwind water. It would seem one rogue wave chased me into the calmer waters of Deep Cove and pushed me just beyond what tired legs could tolerate. I splashed into the tepid waters, unaware at the time at how fortunate my late mermaid chase was.
Cold (Water) Warnings
Later, I would converse with another SUPer in the post-race wrap-up, who had capsized earlier at the first crossing a couple of times and ended up so cold that he called for rescue. Sympathizing with his situation, I recalled a situation where I was paddling from Passage Island in choppier water and after one fall I became disoriented and was unable to get back to standing until I had fallen several times and paddled on my knees for some time to regain my balance. Thankfully, the waters were warm, and I was wearing a drysuit. Cold water is no joke! It can be surprising how quickly you can lose heat when wet, and even more surprising is the loss of function that accompanies the cooling. The slowing of nerve conduction in cooler temperatures results in reduced dexterity, strength, and coordination. Changing temperature effects can be exacerbated when transitioning from high-intensity exercising, which is keeping you warm, to lower activity levels. This phenomenon was recently highlighted to me in Alex Hutchinson‘s chapter on heat in his book “Endure: Mind, Body, and the Curiously Elastic Limits of Human Performance,” where he notes several tragic cases of hypothermia in above freezing temperatures due to reduction heat production from decreasing work rates.
Racing Racketeer Rant
I have had a host of emotions around the race infractions I witnessed. During the race, I was angered and annoyed. I contemplated making a formal complaint, but despite the unsportsman-like nature of cutting a corner, somehow I felt like I would be the unsportsman-like contestant by voicing a complaint. We are all competitive, but does it really matter? A part of me says yes. One reason to enter a formal race like Board the Fjord is to test yourself not just against the course, you can do that any given day, but against other competitors to see where you stand in some sort of hierarchy. That metric is ruined when the rules of the race are broken. Considering my views on the matter, I have to think that their turn miss was unintentional. Who enters a race to cheat (cheaters, that’s who!). Jokes aside, my initial take that their errors were a mistake was called into question when I searched past race results. Both contestants have completed the course in past years and as far as I can tell the course has remained the same, so they are either cutting the corner on the regular or had a momentary lapse of concentration under the current conditions (pun intended).
However, another part of me says what does it matter. At the end of the day, it is a recreational race, and the ultimate point is to go out, work hard, and have fun. Which I did. Though, as you might guess by the fact that I am writing this, I care enough for it to matter.
I did wonder if another racer or perhaps an organizer would report the infarction and that they would ultimately receive a DQ, but as of composing this, the results are still the same. Perhaps if my placement had been more meaningful, for example, in the top three, then I would have been more compelled to complain. Post-race, ‘New Carolina’ informed me that the ‘Green Ghost’ had also missed the turnaround at Jug Island. My seventh place finish, under a hard DQ ruling, is fifth place instead.
That is another aspect that rubs me the wrong way, not knowing. If missing a turn means a disqualification, then yes, I am two places ahead. But the competitive side of me doesn’t want a win from disqualification, I want to know that I was faster (or not) than the other racers. Which raises a whole host of questions about the outcomes. What would have happened if the other races had taken the proper course. For sure, the distance was longer, but would they have struggled more (or less) in the different waters. I have generally found that a capsize costs me about 30 seconds, but that can depend on the difficulty to remount. Given the amount that I have capsized, I feel I am on the faster side of the remounting spectrum. In addition, an unsuccessful remount is a definite possibility if a dismount occurred in the first place, not to mention the chance of a remount to re-capsize.
In the end, I was over a minute behind my corner cutting comrades, so perhaps they would have passed me fair and square, regardless. My biggest beef with the situation is that we won’t know. Which in the grand scheme of things matters little. I suppose there is next year, assuming that they aren’t, in fact, customary corner cutters.
Last rant on the matter. Debriefing Board the Fjord with another contestant at the subsequent Jericho Wavechaser he mentioned that one of the cheats (I hope it is clear that I am calling them out tongue-in-cheek) is on Strava, so we could check his route. I was already certain that he had cut the corner, but this was news to him. Sure enough, post-Wavechaser, we pulled up the plot, and there it was in full view. A straight shot past Jug Island. Which to me, only re-raised the question whether the error was wanton disregard or map instruction ignorance.
Intention matters. The difference between an error and cheating is intention. The former is a mistake and unintentional. The latter is deliberate and intentional.
To err is human, to cheat is ____? Divine? Political? Strategic? Sport? Easier? You decide.
I SUP Explore 