Today we have a guest blogger, Brian Blankinship. Brian is the guy I see briefly at the start of kayak races, but he then rapidly becomes a tiny dot off in the distance. He had an impressive finish in the recent Mayor's Cup Race around Manhattan and here is Brian's account of that unique event:
THE DREAM - At the Holm Schmidt racing clinic before the SK102 paddling weekend held by the Chesapeake Paddlers Association at Lake Anna, VA, Holm asked us our racing goals for the year. Cyndi said she was going to do the Mayor's Cup Race, a 28 mile, around Manhattan run through sometimes heavy seas and strong currents. She had been trying to talk me into it for awhile. When my turn came, I said “don’t tell Cyndi (who was sitting next to me), but my goal is the Mayor’s Cup.”
Holm made several changes to my stroke and really got me psyched for a year of good racing. Then my retina detached. In January I had cataract surgery on my right eye and was off the water for about five weeks. I was finally back on and ready to go when the retina in the same eye detached. Now I was off the water for at least another five weeks and not allowed to elevate my heart rate or lift more than 10 pounds. I missed the first two CPA races and was not allowed to paddle until the 4th of July.
On July 14, I won the third CPA race with almost no training, but I was now using my new Kevlar Epic V10L which I find faster than my old Carbon fiber V10. I skipped the Broadkill race to see the John Smith Shallop on the Patuxent, and was too lazy to go to the Deal Island Race. Unfortunately, those were the two local races with prize money.
I went to the Wicomico Kayak Attack race, because I sort of caused the promoter to put it on. Joe Warren, who won the Deal Race the week before, was there so I assumed I would be shooting for second place. Shortly after the start, Joe was ahead and came to a bridge that was too low for a racing stroke, so he started coasting. I threw in a couple hard strokes and coasted past him. For the rest of the race I was able to hold him off and I won, beating him by 51 seconds.
I then went to the Wye Island Regatta where I came in third overall, behind John DePalma who competes on the US National Team in the World Championships and Holm Schmidt, the former East German Olympian. I decided I might be able to do this Mayor’s Cup race after all.
THE PREPARATION - I didn't train much. I did a Wye Island double circumnavigation with Cyndi, Susan, and John Pescatore, and one 20 miler with Cyndi. Both of those were more than a month before the race. I did a couple of sprints, and the Monday before the race, I tried to do a 20 mile paddle but I bonked badly at 12 miles.
I emailed Cyndi and Bill Vickers for advice on nutrition. Both gave me invaluable council. I went to REI and took some advice from a salesman that didn’t pan out. I ended up buying protein drinks that were too intense for use during the race, but fortunately Cyndi and Bill set me straight before I launched. Around 0700 I was pinging them about it. At 0900 Bill checked on me, but I had settled on my nutrition plan and was relaxed.
THE EQUIPMENT - I was paddling my Epic 18x in standard (fiberglass) layup. The paddle is an Epic Mid Wing, full carbon set at 210cm with a 45 degree feather. I carried two 70oz Polar Pak bladders of Frost Gatorade and 16oz of Accelerade in a Camelbak on the front deck, along with an Accelerade recovery drink and a bottle of plain water just in case. For food, I had one cut up Clif bar on one side of my PFD pouch and a cut up apple divided into two zip-locks on the other side. I ended up eating 3/4 of the Clif bar, and half the apple. I also ate most of one bag of Sports beans, out of the three I carried.
I planned to wear the same tank top I wore at Wye, but it was colder than expected. I ended up wearing the tank top and a long sleeve shirt and shorts. I wore a spray skirt (neoprene deck, cloth tunnel) and the PFD was the new Astral Hybrid, which was nice because I could stick food in the area where the inflation bladder is stored.
THE RACE - I launched only about two minutes before the start of the fourth "flight", which was the Fast Touring class. When I got to the start line, my water system was not connected correctly and another person helpfully stabilized my kayak while I fixed it. I would have been in a bad way had I not fixed the 70 oz of Gatorade on the deck behind me.
When we started, we had to make a hard right turn out of the marina into the Hudson River. Six boats started out ahead of me, and after about two miles a Kevlar Epic 18X started to pass, but then fell back. My first target was Christian Barker in a Kayakpro Nemo. At this point my heart rate was about 165 BPM which is fine for a 12 mile race, but I knew I was not going to hold that for 28 miles. The good news is we were going over 8 MPH. The water was pushing, although I didn’t know it at the time, and there was significant wake action from boats going by. Some of the wakes were 2.5 feet tall (neck high).
Christian was 50 feet ahead to my left and Bill Vickers, paddling a Kevlar Epic 18X, was 75 feet ahead to my right. Finally I slipped past Christian, and Bill took an outside line trying to get more push from the river. My line was straight behind the lead Fast Touring kayak, but the front four were now about 300 yards ahead.
A ferry boat coming from NJ started towards us. I yelled to Bill “look left.” We both poured it on and were able to slip by in front of it. The boat was probably 50 yards to Bill’s left, putting it about 75 yards from me. I don’t know if the people behind me had to wait or not.
Around mile seven I passed Bill and set my sights on Glen Jabkowski, who was paddling a Kirton Anuk. He had a vertical stripe of reflective material on the back of his PFD and I just studied it as it rotated from side to side. At this point I first started to feel like I was getting hungry, so I pulled out my cut up Clif bar and crammed a large piece in my mouth. After a few strong pulls on the Gatorade I felt better. Not sure how much was real and how much was psychosomatic, but it worked.
I looked around the city a bit as I paddled and marveled at all the steel and glass. Really quite impressive, if not very natural. Under the George Washington Bridge there is a red lighthouse. Kind of curious to see it there, but it made a great landmark and was striking in its contrast. As I approached the bridge, I started to pass the back of the Touring class of racers that had launched about 15 minutes earlier than my flight. I was feeling pretty good about passing them, until a C2 said “Oh my …” and I looked left to see the front of the Elite/Surfski paddlers going by. I was holding around eight MPH and they were going at least four MPH faster. They were out in the middle of the river by the channel and getting a better push, but they were clearly far faster paddlers. Reading reports later, I found they periodically switched positions, with each taking turns leading and resting in their diamond formation. Glen got a boost watching them as he started pulling ahead again.
A bit later, I was starting to draw closer to Glen, who was in fourth place, but the rest of the Fast Touring leaders were pulling away. I felt confident that if I raced my own race, I could overtake Glen by the end. As we turned the corner into the Harlem River, Glen cut under a bridge which appeared to me to be too low. He had no trouble paddling under it, so I followed. I could not see any current effect on the rocks on the side but followed Glen’s track anyway. He was holding steady about 75 yards ahead. My speed dropped from a constant 8 MPH to about 7 MPH. Actually it felt good and I was in a groove. My heart rate was holding around 155-160 and I was comfortable. Again I could feel my legs and arms starting to cramp and I was feeling low on fuel. Gatorade really works for me when I feel that way, but I needed more solid fuel as well. I pulled out the zip-lock with apple slices in it and ate a few.
I recognized the rail yards on the right that I had seen on Google Earth. I wish I had paid more attention to where Yankee Stadium and the UN were, as I missed them completely. Cruising down the Harlem, I saw a Valley Rapier, paddled by Bill Bergeron, falling back. I asked if he was OK and he said he was beat. He had bonked and hit the wall like I was afraid would happen to me. That put Glen in third and me in fourth. I believed I could place in the top three instead of being “first loser” in fourth.
The Peter Jay Sharp boathouse is the half way point and you have to call out your number. Glen was now only 10 seconds ahead of me and I loudly called out “Sixty three.” He turned, looked at me, and then started pouring it on. Clearly this was a tactical error on my part, but I figured he would burn out from his sprint and I would gain on him again in the second half.
Soon I saw Cyndi ahead and I called out to her. I pulled up behind and drafted long enough to cram the other 1/4 apple in my mouth. After drafting for around thirty seconds, I told her to jump on my draft, but I don’t think she liked the pace I was setting because she let me slip away. Over the course of the next four miles, I pulled up behind two other kayaks and drafted for a few breaths. I believe I drafted about a total of a minute over the course of the entire race.
Glen and the boats ahead of him were staying way right. I still could not see the effects of the current on the rip-rap, but decided they might know something I didn’t and I followed their line near shore. Before reaching Hell’s Gate, I saw an NYC Police boat coming up the river around 8 MPH and a Kevlar racing kayak (possibly a Destroyer) was drafting it. It drafted the NYPD boat past me, and past three other kayaks ahead of me. I later learned he drafted it for several miles, passing a lot of people. The race rules said: “Sportsmanship also requires that competitors find within themselves the mettle to complete the course.” I find it hard to believe drafting a motor boat meets the intent of this statement but I was told later he asked for clarification and understood this was OK.
Hell’s Gate is reported to have up to six foot standing waves, confused from the confluence of three rivers meeting. Many ships have wrecked here over time and the largest explosion in the world before the atomic bomb was set off during the dredging of this spot. I was concerned about Hell’s Gate, not so much from the size of the waves as from fear of having a strong current running against me.
I was now 20 miles into the race, and knowing the rough water was coming, I wanted to be fueled before I arrived. I ate some more Clif Bar, sucked down a bunch of Gatorade, and sipped some Accelerade. At first I felt a nice energy boost, but then I started to feel I put too much on my stomach. There was nothing to do but keep paddling. My pace slowed to 5-6 MPH at this point. When I crossed under the blue bridge at Ward’s Island, I opened a pack of Sport Beans (jelly beans with electrolytes) and ate three. Again I got a feeling of a boost and felt primed for Hell’s Gate. I was towards the middle of the river and a USCG rigid hull inflatable pulled up and said “It would be good if you moved to the Manhattan side.” I nodded and slid back to the right. I could see Mill Rock ahead. This was where we were to keep to river right just before Hell’s Gate to avoid the rough water.
As it turned out, the water at Hell’s Gate itself was pretty flat, less than one foot waves, and the current was running with us. I was holding 5-6 MPH before Mill Rock, but my speed jumped to around 8 MPH at this point. I was quite happy, except that Glen kept pulling away instead of dropping back like I expected.
I finally drained my rear PolarPak and reached back to disconnect the hose. My arm cramped in this awkward position, but I was able to free it and had to use both hands to snap the hose into the matching 70 oz bag on the foredeck. This one had five of the recommended six scoops of Frost Gatorade, while in the back bag I used my usual four. In the end, I half drained this bag bringing my total Gatorade consumption to about 100 oz.
As I paddled past Roosevelt Island, I was 21.6 miles into the race after paddling for three hours. A large powerboat went by and I turned right to surf its wake and hit 21 MPH, as recorded on my Garmin 305. At the time I didn’t know how fast I went, but I felt too drained to sprint to really catch the wave. It rebounded off the sea wall and I turned left to surf it again.
I was approaching a bridge ahead and Glen was back to the right shoreline. Thinking the current must be against us, I tried to eddy behind a bridge abutment as I approached then took the shore side line behind Glen. Now I believe the current was working with us and I should have stayed more to the middle. I popped three more Sport Beans and slogged on. I maintained a pace between seven and eight MPH but again was feeling drained. I would have been happy to be done at that point.
The river took a sharp right and the wind hit us head on as we passed Brooklyn Bridge Park. We must have still been in a nice current because despite the wind, I was holding around eight MPH. I looked up and saw the Statue of Liberty. I recalled seeing it from the start point and felt hope return as I knew it couldn't be too much further. I came upon a double kayak, but the front paddler was not paddling. Just as I was approaching them, a Circle Line tour boat (two stories high, about 100 feet long) passed in front of them, confusing the seas. Another was coming in, because we were passing by their terminal. I found out later the bow paddler was hurting (probably bonked) and they were having rudder problems. I asked if they were OK and they said yes, so I continued on. I ate three more “magic beans,” and sipped some Accelerade. As we paddled towards Pier 17, I was hoping that was the southern-most point of the race and we would turn back up the Hudson, but I was wrong. We still had to go around the Battery.
The wind stayed strong (I heard 30 knots, but I would guess closer to 20) and the seas were confused 2.5 to 3 footers depending on the boat wakes. Several tour boats went by me, sending waves past me and past again from the other side as they rebounded off the sea wall. The only time I was scared at all was when I was passing the Staten Island Ferry. I heard loudspeaker calls from the huge ship making me believe they were preparing to pull out in front of me. Their props were still driving them into the terminal, creating a wash behind as I went by praying they would not head out. After slipping by, I made a fairly hard turn to the right back into the Hudson.
My speed was now down to 3-4 MPH in the confused seas and heavy wind. I saw a touring sea kayak being tossed around and I thought he must be exhausted (as I was). I then hit the same waves that had tossed him. They were only about two footers (shoulder height), but they were very steep and close, almost like somebody had squeezed the waters together. Rather than buck it like he did, I turned left and surfed them as best I could with my limited remaining strength. I reminded him we were almost done as I passed, watching Glen turn into the finish at the marina. A few minutes later, I was approaching the final turn and I heard cheering from the spectators - what a boost that always gives me. I could see Dave Biss standing by the finish as I paddled past.
Glen was climbing out of his boat and I congratulated him as I paddled to the dock. He surprised me the way he was able to keep plugging at a faster pace the entire second half of the race. I really have to give him credit for a great run.
Thankfully there were two guys who held the boat as I rolled out onto the dock. My right leg immediately cramped and one of the guys had to disconnect my hose from the front PolarPak as I was still connected to the boat. A woman draped a medal around my neck and helped me to my feet.
I picked up my paddle and followed my boat back to the prep area. As I took off my gear, I saw Greg Barton (already dry and changed). I asked if he won and he said Herman Chalupsky did. Greg got caught in a fishing line about 1000 feet before the finish and by the time he could clear the line (which caught his body, then his watch, then his head) Herman had an insurmountable lead. The once fastest man in a kayak, the best US sprinter, came in second by 48 seconds. Considering first place was $5000 and second was $1000, that was one expensive fishing line. I don't know if I could have paddled those seas on a V10 surfski. Greg was able to keep his balance while stopped and removing the fishing line from his body, then head, then watch as it caught him three times - amazing balance just to stay upright in those conditions
I placed fourth in Fast Touring, 25th overall (including the drafter), completing a 28.9 mile paddle in 4:06:23. Fourth place earned a $200 cash prize which didn’t cover the costs of the race, but was a welcome surprise.
STATISTICS - I paddled almost 29 miles in 4:06:23. My split time was 1:55:39. The person who came in third (Glen Jabkowski) finished in 4:02:19 with a split of 1:55:29. My top speed was 21 MPH (mile 21.6, 3:01:52) next to Roosevelt Island. I think I was surfing a powerboat wake. The next highest speed was 20 MPH (mile 22.3, 3:06:36). Overall average speed: 7 MPH. My max heart rate was 175 BPM (mile 18.0). Minimum was 140 BPM at mile 25.8, probably when I stopped to eat something.
Of 21 Men’s Fast Touring, I was 4th:
NAME FINAL BOAT OVERALL
1. Craig Impens 3:55:38 Epic 18X 15
2. Steve Del Gaudio 3:59:04 Bushnell EFT 18
3. Glen Jabkowski 4:02:19 Kirton Anuk 21
4. Brian Blankinship 4:06:23 Epic 18X 25
5. Christian Barker 4:09:36 KayakPro Nemo 27
21.Chula Kim 5:29:12 79
By Brian Blankinship
Editor's note: Full results can be found be found here. Some other interesting reads about the Mayor's Cup Race:
This is a great post. A lot of people don't realize how fun kayaking is, and this post captured that.
Posted by: Howie | 03 November 2007 at 03:11 PM