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For aspiring first-timers entering the Molokai Challenge, there is no book you can buy that will tell you how to prepare, no training manual that explains what you should expect. Tips about this venerated race are obtained mostly by word of mouth. Here are some pointers and confessions from one Molokai rookie that can help shed a little light on a complicated but exciting event for those new to the Big Dance.
2006 MOLOKAI - A BANNER YEAR
 Kenny Howell mid-channel, Molokai 2006
In May 2006, I bought a one-way plane ticket from Oahu to Molokai, and on the short flight between the islands, looked down at the churning whitewater of the Ka'iwi Channel. The next day would be my first Molokai Challenge, and I was biting my nails with anxiety while peering out the window. Other guys on the plane were talking about how perfect the conditions would be for the race: 10' swells with a 30-knot tailwind. Could I handle it? Surfing for 30 miles downwind should be awesome...Maybe it was the worried expression on my face, but a friendly and encouraging voice said "It's OK, that's how it's supposed to look. You want conditions like this". It was my training partner, a 5-time Molokai competitor, and Epic V10 surfski co-designer John Dixon. For about the thousandth time in six months, I just took his word for it and tried to keep breathing.
GET A TRAINING PARTNER
.jpg "John Dixon and Kenny Howell") Dixon and Howell - doing the time (Pic: Barbara Kossy)
Once you've committed to doing your first Molokai Challenge, the first thing to do is find someone to train with that has done it before, and latch on to that guy. Pump him for everything he knows. Almost daily in the months leading up to the race, I asked Dixon every dumb question I could possibly think of, and in the end I probably knew more about the Molokai than anyone from California that had never done it before! I had many years of experience as an ocean paddler, but was relatively new to surfskis, and had never done a race over 15 miles. So it was all new, and every aspect of the competition was a puzzle or challenge. It's difficult to imagine how much harder it would have been without the handy advice and experience of a veteran competitor. Impossible maybe.
DO THE TIME
 Downwind training, San Francisco Bay
It is critical to train specifically for Molokai conditions and distance. Logging in the hours on the ocean is the key. You must find the time for at least 4 or 5 sessions per week, building up gradually to longer and longer sessions. It's a cruel truth that the elite competitors only have to train for a 3.5 hour race if conditions are favorable. I figured it would take me 5 hours, and trained for that reality. We started at the beginning of the year with 2 hour sessions, then 3 hours, and worked up to a few over 4 hour sessions one month before the race. At that time, I had never paddled for 3 hours on a ski, and was almost ill afterwards; the next day, I was trashed. The second time was much easier though, and eventually the recovery time was very short. Some guys can go home and mow the lawn after a long training session once your body gets used to it. About two weeks before race day, we continued training, but tapered off to one-hour sessions, mixing intervals with downwind runs. Then we flew to Hawaii to acclimate, get some fun paddling in, and scout out the finish. The more time in Hawaii, the better!
Find conditions that resemble Molokai - even remotely. South Africans and Australians can do this readily enough. We have plenty of wind and waves on the northern California coast, but the water is dangerously cold all year, so you have to be cautious with offshore paddling here. We picked our days, and found runs that simulated the swell angle across the Molokai Channel; the trade winds in Hawaii come out of the northeast, and you're surfing from left to right across the waves on almost the entire race course. I often asked Dixon during our training runs off Half Moon Bay, near Mavericks, if the seas were like Molokai. Time after time, the answer was "Not yet", until finally one day we launched into a 12' swell with 30 knot winds and he said "This is like Molokai". I was literally shaking in my boots, and backed off of wicked drops that I thought would bury the whole ski in a filthy pit of frigid water. It can be hard to train for Molokai on the mainland, but we tried!
DON'T BE A HERO - GET A STABLE SKI
 Working through wind waves
More than a few paddlers have trained for Molokai in flat water, then squeezed in a week or two of paddling around Oahu prior to the race. The waters off Makapu Point, a favorite pre-race training area, sometimes resemble the blue water conditions of mid channel, but many a Molokai virgin has been shocked at the size of the waves during the race, and afterwards ended up mumbling incoherently about it like shell-shocked war veterans.
The best advice I received was to paddle a ski with more stability. (I use a V10 at home, then switched to a V10 Sport in Hawaii; full disclosure - I'm an Epic agent in northern California). When I commented to Oscar Chalupsky after a Makapu run that the V10 Sport was nice and stable, but didn't feel quite as fast as the V10, he offered this observation -and I will paraphrase it, "Just shut up and paddle, you'll need the Sport!" He was right - stability is the key to everything, and a stable ski will allow you to relax and put more power into the stroke. I had more fun, only swam once, never fought for stability (which will wear you out) and probably caught more waves than I would have on a narrower ski. If your plan is to win the whole enchilada, then of course you need the most competitive boat you can handle. I was there to have some fun though, and finish with my dignity intact, if possible.
MOLOKAI RIGGING
.jpg "Ken Moore Molokai 2006") Ken Moore in the Channel (Pic: Bob Twogood)
A few days before the race, we made final preparations for shipping the skis from Oahu to Molokai (just one of multiple logistics you must deal with). Dixon threw a box of closed-cell foam blocks on the ground and told me to fill up the void in front of the foot board with pieces of foam. "What do I need this for?" I asked naively. "Just do it", he said. It was a damn good thing I did. With an adjustable footboard, there is significant space in front of the pedals to fill with water (if you have short legs like me). Fast-forward to race day: 30 minutes after the start, the first big bomb washed over my boat, burying me up to my nipples in foam. I braced and side-surfed it, and the water washed out quickly thanks to the added foam in the foot well; otherwise, the swamping would have been severe.
BEER IS GOOD FOOD!
 Pre-race check on Molokai Island
Everything seemed to be going so well - almost too well. The months of training and preparation were finally over, and the logistics had fallen smoothly into place, one after another. On the evening before the race, the wind settled down over Molokai and the lovely tropical sunset should have soothed my nerves. Instead, I was a nervous wreck and realized that I badly needed a beer. The South Africans were hydrating with Heinekens, and when I cruised by their luau with a bottle in one hand, Oscar shouted out "That's a good sign mate - beer is good!" Then, just as the sun was setting on the horizon, we noticed Oahu poking up some 30 miles away. It looked so tiny and far away. We were suddenly overcome with the desire to eat more food. Don't go to bed hungry the night before the Molokai.
SURFING SKILLS
 Oscar Chalupsky at speed - 2005
I thought I had this part dialed! Surfing was something I could do. As Winston Churchill famously said, "My whole life has been a preparation for this moment." But I still had a lot to learn. Surfing diagonally across the swells proved harder than anticipated because of the wild turbulence and occasional breakers. It was easy enough to surf across the wind waves, but when a big ground swell jacked up and spilled over the stern, strange things happened. Once, it bucked me off the ski like a bronco rider tossed from a stallion that had just stepped on a rattle snake. I remounted the ski quickly. Time to try a different strategy. I remembered asking Dixon if he ever backed off on a wave in previous races, and the answer was "Never, just go for it". So I changed tactics slightly, surfed across the wind waves to stay on course, but kept the speed up and powered straight down the fat ones, avoiding broaching or wallowing. The second half of the race went much better, and I managed to catch some people.
NEVER LOOK BACK!
.jpg "Ken Moore, Molokai 2006") Ken Moore dropping in (Pic: Bob Twogood)
It's freaky to look back at a big following sea barreling down on you in a stormy ocean. It looks huge, and you hear the rolling thunder of a crumbling wave as it threatens to overrun you like an avalanche. Do you really want to watch that horror movie? I ended up looking back only twice: once I did it without thinking, and shuddered at the sight. You need to totally focus on speed and moving the boat forward, catching the next wave. Then it happened again when I was broached by a big whitecap, spinning the ski 180 degrees into the face of the wind and waves. I averted my eyes from the oncoming wall, and quickly turned the ski back downwind.
ESCORTS AND SWIM BUDDIES
 Where's Waldo? Mayhem at the start
Race rules require that each participant hire an escort boat for safety. You can utilize a "swim buddy" or multiple rescue swimmers on your escort boat; they are allowed to hand off water or food, assist with a remount, etc. Take advantage of this and make sure your escort team has everything you might possibly want out there. In the 2006 race, Dixon used fishing line obtained from his escort boat to jury rig a broken rudder cable. It took him and his swim buddy 20 minutes to rig the rudder in the heaving swells, but he was able to finish the race without a DQ. The guy should have been given a "MacGyver Award" for ingenuity.
Over the 31-year history of the event, a few racers have attempted the Molokai Challenge without support boats - because their escorts either didn't show up, suffered mechanical failure during the race, or had failed to locate their racers after the start, and never found them! I was warned about all these possibilities in advance, and received some interesting advice from one Molokai veteran: "Don't worry about that, it's the escort boat's responsibility to find YOU." That was somehow reassuring when we couldn't locate my escort before the start. In the ensuing confusion, I ended up missing the start by a few minutes! I took off to chase the mob, and about an hour later my escort came roaring up, glad they had found me. The skipper said later he couldn't tell who was who among all the white skis and white shirts. Wear some distinct colors that your escort can spot in the crowded field. Once they find you, then Bob's Your Uncle.
FOLLOW THE ARROW, STUPID!
 Koko Head Crater, Oahu
In the early days of the Molokai Challenge, paddlers could use a compass to find Oahu, or they just relied on their escort boats to point them in the right direction. With the advent of GPS, navigation became idiot proof. Just set your way point and follow the arrow on the screen. You can't see Oahu from the starting line, but about half way across the channel, it comes into view and you can navigate by eye; I know this because my GPS unit was ripped off my ski when I capsized. Not enough duct tape. Note to self: strap everything down so securely it won't come off when the surfski is tossed over a cliff.
I used Portlock Point as my only way point on the GPS, it seemed like an ideal heading just upwind of the finish at Hawaii Kai. I heard of one racer that entered a series of waypoints all the way across the Channel and he slavishly navigated along that track to Oahu. Sounds like a good idea in theory, but you still have to work with the waves to get there.
COLLISION AT SEA (ALMOST)
Tiger sharks escorted us for part of the 2006 race. Thousands of mahi mahi were migrating through the Channel, and the sharks were in a feeding frenzy! I saw the biggest fish I've ever seen, and it swam right under my feet, barely under the surface of the crystal clear water. The shark's head was massive, about the size of a car engine. There was nothing I could do but paddle right over it. I swear to god, I surfed over a 12' tiger shark. In Hawaii, it's a blessing to encounter a shark, or so the Hawaiians claim.
BLADDER CONTROL
Hydration is a big deal in this event. By the time you're ready for Molokai, you've figured out how to carry your drinking system on the ski. Just make sure you have a simple and quick system for replacing it from your escort boat as needed. Some guys carry all their fluids from the start. I used a 3-liter bag and attached it to the ski under my legs with Velcro; this is a very practical and convenient place to stash it. I didn't drink it all, but I had a fresh bag with a pre-mixed sports drink on the motorboat, ready to go.
You think you've prepared for absolutely everything, yet there is always something you can't anticipate. I couldn't urinate without stopping to relax my body. I delayed it too long, and then it got painful. The surfing was so fantastic that I didn't want to stop to piss! Finally, I threw my legs over the ski and whistled a tune while wasting valuable minutes trying to go. My escort guys were confused at first, and when I explained the situation, my swim buddy yelled over, "Just think of running water!" Thanks a lot bradah!
REEF ROUTE?
 Closing in on Portlock Point
At Portlock Point, the downwind fun finally comes to a crashing halt and you are faced with a vicious headwind for the last 2 miles to the finish at Hawaii Kai. Bold and cavalier racers sometimes take the shorter route across a mine filed of reef breaks here - and they don't always make it. If you're in a battle for first place, then it will be tempting to go for it and surf the reef. For a rookie like me, I was so stoked to have just made the crossing that I never hesitated...and paddled serenely right up the deeper channel into the harbor. The reef was closing out ugly. Go wide and finish clean.
BRAGGING RIGHTS
 Inside the reef, ready to meet the press
Despite missing the start (I'll never know by how many minutes), one mid-channel swim, and other surprises, I had the time of my life competing in the Molokai Challenge. Proper training paid off, and I had enough gas left to power hard for the final hour, pass some people after Portlock Point, and even sprint to the finish in the marina. My official time was just under 5 hours. The icing on the cake was spending another week in Hawaii with my wife and our two kids. When it was time to fly home, I left paradise kicking and screaming. I'm headed back for the 2008 edition. Let her blow.
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