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Molokai - the Holy Grail of surfski paddling! When the race organizers invited me to go to Hawaii to experience the race I leaped at the opportunity. I had a great time and a terrible race... , learnt a lot about paddling in Hawaii - and about myself.
 Yep, that's exactly how I felt! (Pic: Vince Bechet)
Preparation
I was probably a bit "undercooked" in terms of training for the race. I was prepared for downwind conditions and had done almost exclusively downwind training. I'd done a number of 30km paddles and two False Bay crossings (one 46km; the second 48km) in moderate downwind conditions. I'd spent time in the gym, working on core body strength three times a week until a month before the race, when I stopped going to gym in favor of more time on the water.
My training was disrupted twice by minor shoulder injuries in the two months before the race. Each time I took a week off exercise and I should have gone running instead... I didn't.
 Setting up: Lauren Bartlett and Maggie Twigg-Smith the day before the race (Pic: Rob Mousley)
And in Hawaii
The day after I arrived in Hawaii, I did the "Makapuu run" from Makapuu past the cliffs at Portlock Point, past the famous China Walls and then across to Waikiki back to the Outrigger Canoe Club. The paddle was great fun - 30km in total - but I rubbed my coccyx raw. The strange thing about this was that I had exactly the same setup (i.e. same paddling pants, no bum pad) in the same boat (V10 Sport) when I did a 48km Bay Crossing a couple of weeks before - and on that occasion I had hardly any chafing at all.
We did a second paddle a day later - this time from Sandy Beach to Hawaii Kai and I could hardly sit in the ski I was in such pain.
The result was that I didn't paddle for the rest of the week as I tried to give my coccyx time to heal. I made myself a bum pad during the week - and tested it on the Friday morning before the race with a gentle tap up the coast and back from the Outrigger Club.
But that all meant that I had not made the most of the time to acclimatize.
 The day before the race - waiting for the gap (Pic: Rob Mousley)
On Molokai
My preparation on Molokai wasn't great either - I didn't sleep well the night before the race, anxious about the wind (or lack of it), the 10ft crashing surf on the beach and the fact that my ski hadn't arrived.
The Race
Bad Start!
My ski finally arrived off the beach at 8.30 just as I'd given up hope... The next sequence of events passed in a blur - out to the escort boat on the back of a jetski; off with the ski; in through the massive shore break; wipe it down; tape the juice bladder and gels down; get back out and across to the start...
 Molokai Beach 18th May 2008 (Pic: Freya Hoffmeister)
I was approaching the line when the field took off in what turned out to be a false start. I was still some way behind when the race was started for real - still two minutes early.
And then I found myself at the back of the fleet being overtaken by a million escort boats all leaving 2ft wakes... All I could do was try to ride the wakes and make up some ground...
Fun in the sun - waves & wind
Finally, as the escorts thinned out, I realized that the swells were real ocean waves - and there was some wind to help us along. And for about an hour I enjoyed myself, catching runs, slowly working my way past some OC-1s and surfskis.
 Escorts and skis in all directions (Pic: Vince Bechet)
The needle of my GPS was pointing slightly south of my heading - I'd been advised to head slightly north of the direct line and I could see a number of escort boats up ahead so I figured I was at least on the same line as a bunch of other paddlers - whether it was the right line or not I had no clue.
For a while I was paddling near Australian Mark Nathan, gradually overhauling him. I eventually overtook him and felt as though I was paddling reasonably strongly.
The wind dies - and so do I
And then the wheels fell off. The sea became sloppy, the wind died, and I died with it. I felt weak and nauseous; my arms felt limp and every time I did accelerate for a run I'd end up panting, gasping for air. My hands were cramping. Sweat was running down my face - but weirdly at the same time I felt reasonably cool - the breeze on the wet race top made the material feel cool on my arms.
My escort boat arrived sometime around then - with Charles Brand on board. Charles' rudder cable had pulled through his tiller bar & he'd abandoned the race. He spent the next couple of hours encouraging me with cries of "Want a beer?" and "You're doing fine" (when I clearly wasn't) and, finally, blessedly, "just one Millers Run to go!"
During the third and fourth hours I felt utterly miserable - Mark Nathan had overtaken me again as though I were standing still; the bloody island NEVER seemed to get any closer and I had abandoned any hope of a decent time. My thoughts flitted from excuse to excuse; how could I justify getting onto that boat? I was feeling nauseous (but not that nauseous); I was feeling... what? Like a gutless bastard - quit whinging and get on with it!
One Millers Run to Go
Finally, although Portlock Point still didn't seem to be getting nearer, there was land to my right and the GPS slowly crept down to 13km, then 12km, and at last into single figures.
I swallowed my last gel, ate an energy bar and drank the last of my backpack juice. The second bladder I'd taped the wrong way up at the front of the cockpit and I stopped to rip it off. I put it in the cockpit under my thighs and took a long drink from the tube.
Either the refueling or the thought of being close to home (or the waves of anxiety from my wife who was watching my almost motionless GPS position at 1.30am in South Africa!) gave me strength and I plodded on past Portlock Point, past China Walls (giving it a wide berth) and headed across into the headwind to the finish. Going through the rough water off Portlock I blessed the fact that I was on a super-stable ski. For me, in those conditions and in my state, the V10 Sport was exactly the right boat.
An hour off the pace
Checking my times at last year's Durban World Cup, the Cape Point Challenge and the first Bay Crossing I'd done in training I figured that I should be good for somewhere around 4:15 to 4:30. I crawled across the finish line in just under five and half hours. But I was satisfied with myself to have felt so bad and yet still finished - this was the toughest personal paddling challenge I've ever faced.
 Made it! (pic: Vince Bechet
What would I do differently next time?
- - Wear warm clothes when training in cold water Cape Town to reduce the impact of the heat in Hawaii.
- - There's nothing you can do about the harsh seawater - you have to work through the blisters on your hands but, next time, I'll make sure that whatever ski I use, it's comfortable and there's no hint of chaffing on my backside.
- - I'll be sure to paddle every day in Hawaii to acclimatize as much as possible.
- - Another factor that I think had a bearing on my race was poor nutrition - at home I eat healthily with plenty of fruit and vegetables. In Hawaii I didn't make the effort and ended skipping breakfasts and eating a lot of junk food. You can do yourself a lot of damage in a week of bad eating!
- - Use Vaseline liberally - on race day I let it soak into my hands a couple of hours before the start and I had no blisters. If I'd used it on that first day on my coccyx it might have saved that too.
- - Force myself to drink more right from the start of the race.
Much more than just the race
But Molokai is so much more than just the race - Hawaii is a place of enormous opportunity - for hikers, historians, and of course any water sport you care to name. And the scenery, once you get away from Honolulu, is spectacular.
But to me one of the most enjoyable aspects of the trip is the meeting of like-minded enthusiasts from all over the world - it's having a coffee at the Starbucks outside the hotel with assorted Yanks, Aussies and Saffas. It's listening to the guys trading stories about Dean, Oscar, Herman and the other greats. It's having Oscar come up to you and give you some tips as you're paddling off China Walls.
Unfinished Business
Kanaka Ikaika means (roughly) "mankind's respectful challenge of the great ocean". My challenge definitely wasn't respectful enough - and I felt thoroughly slapped down at the end of the race. But I learnt a lot - and all I want to do now is get back to Hawaii to have another go. Mahalo!
Video Clip
Here's a great little movie, made by Kenny Howell's escort boat:
http://tinyurl.com/5gf9ym
It's great because it gives a really good overview of the race:
- the big shore break on the beach
- the chaos with the mass start of the escort boats
- the runs during the second hour
- going past Portlock Point
Great one Kenny!
 Beautiful Hawaii - sunset on the North Shore (Pic: Rob Mousley)
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