Day 2: Salt Rock to Durban. 

It gets light in Durban at some ridiculous hour close to 4am.  So by 5am Evan and I were on the beach surveying the launch spot for Day 2's race.  It seemed that the surf had dropped somewhat - well, irrespective, we convinced ourselves that it had.  The uncertainty was how the surf would have changed by 9am since this was spring tide and a beach break is highly subject to tidal fluctuations.

Leading up to 9am was the pre-race activity.  Our main objectives were to be adequately sun-screen protected (it was going to be a hot day), ensure that our juice was firmly duct-taped to our boat and to identify an appropriate launch strategy.  In fact, in our eagerness to know how to launch, we completely overlooked trying to gain an understanding of what to do, e.g. which way to head, once we made it past the backline.

Losing it... (Amanzimtoti, 2006). Photo: Rob Mousley

Lost it. (Amanzimtoti, 2006). Photo: Rob Mousley

So, once again lined up and ready for the start.  Evan and I wondered around and struck up conversation with others to get advice.  Evan spoke to Herman who assured him that there wasn't a wave coming through today that we couldn't just punch through.  Yeah right, Herman - maybe nothing that you can't easily get through.

Once again, we got to see the other categories head off first.  Carnage again!  The side rip drew several boats onto the rocks and some were broken.  Waves were pounding skis.  I saw one ski shoot vertically into the sky, naturally without its poor paddler, pirouette and drop back down.  Evan and I were determined that we were going to make it today.  In fact, as the official came around to take our boat number (for safety purposes), I told him that they had better be prepared to hang around until we made it out today, because today there would be no throwing in of the towel.  He just smiled knowingly.

Just before our wave was set off I saw a school of dolphins on the backline.  This was a good omen - no, not just because I think dolphins are great, but also because we could actually see the backline this time. And off we went.  Evan and I chose to err on the aggressive, rather than the conservative (which was yesterday's failed strategy), approach and we charged out the gates.  We powered through the beach break and the middle break foamies and the outer waves of the backline were immediately in sight.  We kept a rapid paddling cadence and cleared the backline.  Triumphant, paddles thrust into the air to signal our supporters on the beach that we had made it.  But what now?

We took a diagonal route out and kept a lookout for other boats.  Evan is convinced that we made it out first.  We might well have.  I was so focused on keeping my eyes on the waves I had seen no one else.  Anyhow, after a few minutes of paddling, Evan spotted another boat.  We pulled alongside and asked what heading they were taking.  For the uninitiated - you need to understand that when you're out beyond the backline in the heaving ocean off Durban's coastline, you're on your own.  The coast is distant, the swells are massive and the sea is a vast, moving expanse of wind-whipped peaks and valleys.  The wind generates huge non-breaking waves.  Surf skis are built to ride these waves.  When you position the ski with the wind on your back and the waves running with the wind, huge craters develop in front of you.  Solid paddling and you're hurtling down the wave at an awesome speed.  We were advised not to look back - it's kind of like when you're climbing and looking down is more than a little daunting.  When the wave is really big and steep, the nose often ploughs into the valley sending a shower of water over the boat.  Big waves create what some of the paddlers call "mineshafts".

We managed to get onto the runs (riding these waves) very successfully and we made excellent time for the first 2 hours.  I won't bore you with the account of our dismal feeding attempts - Evan diving to save half a banana, our usual stunts in getting back into the boat, me launching myself into the boat from the one side with so much force that I sprung right over and back into the sea on the other side.  At about one and a half hours we spotted a built section on the coast some way away.  Durban?  Well, so we thought (remember we're from Cape Town).  In 2 hours we had reached our Durban - amazed and impressed, until we realised that there was an even bigger set of buildings in the distance.  Our Durban was, of course, Umhlanga (Widely acknowledged as the first Zulu word a Sandton kugel learns) - a good 12km from the finish point.  Although we'd been paddling well to this point I was starting to take strain - I was tired all over, my calf muscle kept threatening to cramp and my hands were developing blisters.

But, on we forged, heading back out to sea in the direction of Durban.  I'm not sure quite how it happened but for some reason we ended up taking a very inefficient line.  By the time we were lined up with Durban we must have been about 5km from the coast.  Our paddling was slowing, our balance was worsening and my enjoyment of this race was rapidly ebbing.  We had no idea where to aim for, which beach to come in on.  Actually that was less of a problem than it felt since we were so far from land we could have equally headed for any of Durban's beaches.

So we opted to point the boat towards the shore and paddle in.  The wind and the sea were in our favour but still the coast didn't seem to be getting any closer.  We paddled and paddled and fell in and paddled and ... on it goes.  At one point a dolphin popped out of the water just next to us.  That served to lighten my spirits.  Now we were getting closer to the coast.  In fact, yes, I could make out what appeared to be surf-skis on the beach.  We paddled and paddled.  And now we could start to see the colour of the water change and then the shark nets.  We were almost there.  And, we had a strategy for getting in without further trauma.  It's simple, just follow a big wave in as fast as you can.  Hmmmm.  Not so easy in practice.  We move in beyond the backline, ready to follow our wave in and, once again a shadow fell over us.  A huge wave (actually much smaller than the Day 1 monster) loomed over us.  Evan abandoned ship.  I didn't even know he had since he sits behind, but he told me later on the beach.  The wave crashed down and ripped the boat away.  Here we go - déjà vu - but my consolation was that we were almost home and although the boat was being bounced by the wave, it was heading in the right direction.

Finishing in style. (Amanzimtoti, 2006). Photo: Rob Mousley

My calf cramped completely at this point, but I wasn't too concerned because I'm reasonably confident of my swimming abilities, even without one functioning leg.  Evan reached the boat first, after we'd both swum about 200m toward the shore.  We hopped back in again, actually this time a little more elegantly than usual, and paddled the remaining 50m into the beach.  We'd done it!  We had completed the arduous second leg of the Dolphin Coast Challenge and qualified for the Cape Point Challenge.  Hmmm - Cape Point is twice as long, do we really want to do that?

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