Toms River Paddle Race: Express Lane

(photo courtesy of  Mike Goodman)

Given the rich trove of surfski races within two hours of my home, I've been loath to venture outside of my regional comfort zone.  Sure, there have been the odd trips to alien waters, but these events have been "National" in character - The Gorge, Chattajack 31, US Surfski Championships, etc.  That is to say, big enough that a lousy relative performance would be lost in the noise.  Given the continuing influx of paddlers willing to make the arduous trek to New England from exotic locales, however, I felt obligated to reciprocate.  New Jersey's Toms River Paddle Race seemed like the natural choice.  Recently reinvigorated by director Melinda Edward (Schlehlein), this open water race promised the most impressive field of surfski paddlers in any East Coast competition this year.

The race portion of Toms River is mostly a broad tidal estuary that opens into Barnegat Bay.  Our out-and-back course would start near Mathis Plaza in the town of Toms River and take us 3.5 miles to where Dixon Creek enters the bay, turning on a inflatable marker to head back home.  Although the course starts and ends in relatively protected waters, conditions can get increasingly challenging as the estuary opens up and weekend boat traffic increases.

There's no rational explanation for why New Jersey is churning out so many top tier paddlers, although perhaps a desire to avoid the ever-present traffic explains their attraction to the sea.  Local surfskiers include Sean Brennan, Rob Jehn, Craig Impens, and Eric Costanzo, to name a few.  As if this wasn't a potent enough brew, they spiked the punch by enticing Ukrainian flatwater standout Andrii Monastyrskyi to resettle in the Garden State.  All of these paddlers were registered, although Craig and Eric would be sharing a boat.  After heated debate, they settled on using a double.  In a beautiful coincidence of timing, two outstanding Florida-based paddlers also happened to be in New Jersey.  Nate Humberston is one of the fastest all-around American paddlers, having represented the US at the World Championships.  Flavio Costa is best known (to me, at least) as someone who once was someone I could occasionally beat.  He might have been injured, though.

Based on past results, the buzz was around the Sean vs Nate vs Andrii contest.  I was guessing that Flavio, Rob, and the Eric-Craig double would be tight on their tails.  Given Rob's recent ascendency to the Next Level, I figured I'd spend most of my race tangling with the Triple-J threat - John Costello (another local), John Hair, and Jan Lupinski.  I've generally gotten the better of the Johns in the past, but the gap has been steadily closing as I get older and they auction off the dwindling remnants of their souls.  With all his recent travel, I didn't know how fit Jan would be.  He was recently disqualified from the Ocean Racing World Championships in the Canary Islands when stodgy officials determined that his cutting-edge boat-free technique violated pretty much all of the ICF rules.  Undeterred, he's currently petitioning to add a "surf bobbing" class to next year's race.  Formidable tandem paddlers Erin and Alan Lamb also figured to compete in our tier.

Roughly 40% the surfskis were disqualified due to illegal "cantilevered flotation attachments".  Just as well, though, since those competitors also coincidentally forgot half their paddles.

It started out with smiles and playful taunts.  It ended up with us bailing Nate and Flavio out of the pokey.

Those of us not confident enough to paddle their fastest boat in all conditions often suffer from crippling anxiety about which surfski to bring for the conditions.  Several forecasts were indicating 15 to 20 knot cross-winds, with substantially stronger gusts.  Playing it safe, I brought my V10 Sport.  In retrospect, I perhaps shouldn't have paid quite so much attention to the notoriously unreliable posts on the social networking app Tweather.

A few years back I started working on my own app that would tell which boat you should choose for a race.  I quickly became bogged down in simulating the myriad interactions between different boat, paddler, and condition parameters - tide, wind, hull shape, stroke rate, water salinity, cholesterol levels, etc.  To simplify matters, I transitioned to a multivariant temporal loop approach - you'd simultaneously race each of your boats in a different timeline, and "then" choose the best result.  As a bonus, you'd get really adept at winning lotteries.  Things looked quite promising, but it turns out that even the most powerful cellphones lack tachyon dynamometers and fall just shy of being able to provide the 1.21 gigawatts necessary to contort the fabric of space-time.  Plus if more than one competitor used the app, there was a 30% chance that the universe would implode.

I eventually settled on a more practical app that tells you which boat you should have chosen for a race.  Just before the start of the event, you enter 12 carefully chosen parameters.  The app then randomly selects one of the boats you left at home.  If you upgrade to the Pro version, it'll also loudly announce "You brought the wrong boat!"  Kinda wish now that I would've used the original prototype to decide if this whole tangent was worth it.  In any event, the app was undeniably correct this day.  The more extreme winds never materialized, meaning that the I brought much more stability than needed.  As it turned out, however, this poor boat choice had zero impact on my finish placement.

On the Friday prior to the race, Melinda had hosted a professional Zoom-based captain's meeting that resembled a Ted Talk more than an improvised PTA meeting - the vibe I'm more accustomed to.  So on race day we were able to proceed directly to the launch, where we underwent a brief screening for the required safety equipment.  The screener told me that the hard hat and fire extinguisher weren't strictly necessary, but clearly he wasn't familiar with my track record.

John H and I decided that lining up to the right would give us a shorter path to the first gentle bend of the river.  Almost everyone seemed to have a different opinion, but we pride ourselves as rebels who will stick to a hastily-contrived doctrine even if that means sacrificing valuable drafting opportunities.  A whistle soon signaled the start.  Andrii established an immediate lead, with Nate, Sean, and Flavio on his draft.  Eric-Craig and Rob were close on their heels.  After holding fast to a right-wing ideology for a solid 30 seconds, John and I abandoned our dogma and united with the leftists, joining them in a rousing chorus of L'Internationale.  John C was heroically pulling at the front of our collective, with Jan, the Lambs, John H, and myself on various drafts.  You might at first assume that we would rotate leaders in the spirit of contribution to our shared struggle, but... from each according to their ability, to each according to their need.  The drafters judged that John C had the ability and we the need.

Alas, our cohesion couldn't last forever.  John H and Jan had second thoughts about their commitment to the cause and veered off to pursue independent paths.  John C and I eventually had some ideological differences about the party line and similarly formed our own factions.  I kept the Lambs in the brokered settlement, but soon realized that they were wolves in sheep's clothing.  If I let them hang on too long, Erin and Alan would doubtless turn on me.  I made several unsuccessful attempts to shake them before finally breaking free.  I was now paddling roughly abreast of John C, who was 20 meters or so closer to shore.  I could see John H slightly off the pace, maybe 50 meters further out than me.

By this point, the leaders had broken into two groups.  Nate, Sean, and Andrii were at the front, with Flavio, Rob, and Eric/Craig now in pursuit.  However, when Andrii veered off-course on a passing boat wake, Nate and Sean wasted no time in dropping their aw-shucks, please-and-thank-you, why-no-I'm-not-a-dead-eyed-killer off-water facades.  Smelling the blood in the water, they thrashed forward with a merciless series of shared intervals, leaving behind the bloated carcass of Andrii awash in a trail of no-longer-needed hyphens (minus a few the ne'er-do-wells hung onto).  I don't know if the light chop and boat wakes were getting to him, or if he just decided to relinquish his powers to see what it was like to live as a mortal, but Andrii slowed dramatically and was passed by the second group.

Just before the halfway point Nate and Sean had finally managed to drop the jet ski. (photo courtesy of  Mike Goodman)

A half mile before reaching Long Point, where we'd angle north for a half-mile of downwind, I merged with John C.  After catching my breath on his stern draft for what I'd estimate to be no more than 15 seconds, I pulled alongside.  I figured our brief downwind would be my best chance to break free.  We caught Andrii (by all appearances paddling at about 10% capacity) just as we reached the point.  The lighter-than-expected wind wasn't exactly providing rip-roaring rides, but I managed to convince myself that I was milking each wave, leaving John wallowing in my spray.  Empirical evidence had convinced him otherwise, however.  Seeing John less than a half-dozen boat lengths at the turn, I was reluctantly forced to concede the point.

The return trip started mostly into the wind, swinging to a port quarter wind once we rounded Long Point.  With an incoming tide, it made sense to make for the channel.  I glanced back occasionally, using local John C's relative position as a gauge for my line.  I appeared to be prying open a little space between us, but I could also see John H, the Lambs, and Andrii in pursuit.  Apparently a pretty good battle was brewing amongst them until a large yacht wake tipped the balance.  And John C.  Despite a fast remount, the others took advantage of his upheaval to move ahead.

Sean and Nate enjoy that magical bonding time between finishing a hard-fought battle with a worthy competitor and once again being forced to rub elbows with the huddled masses. (photo courtesy of Mariano Elrick)

As I made continued my way up Toms River, naturally I was periodically monitoring my pursuers.  I could no longer see Rob, Flavio, and Eric-Craig up ahead, a fact I attributed to the winding estuary, despite the galling lack of any actual curves.  With just under a mile left, I judged that Andrii (in his recognizable red boat) was well over a minute behind - more than enough margin to secure my current 5th place position among the singles.  At seven-eighths of a mile, I figured he was perhaps a minute back.  At three-quarters of a mile, I started to panic.  By this point, I was really regretting that bloated carcass metaphor I had so blithely concocted earlier.  Apparently he took some umbrage.  Every hysterical glance over my shoulder revealed that Andrii had somehow jumped another half-dozen lengths closer.  It was like leafing through one of those animated flip books, but with 90% of the pages torn out.  And a lot more menace than whimsy.  Fortunately, before Andrii had the chance to reach maximum warp, the finish line intervened to save me.

Nate and Sean had both blistered through the course in less than 55 minutes, with Nate taking the crown by about 20 seconds.  In the 8 minutes longer it took me to finish, they had managed to once again camouflage their genuine natures beneath hail-fellow-well-met veneers, greeting me with their customary terrestrial bonhomie.  Of course, Flavio (3rd) and Rob (4th) had also completed the course well before me, posting times just under 57 minutes in the closest finish of the race.  Given that a couple of months ago I had been a mere half-minute behind Rob at the longer Sakonnet Race, the 5 extra minutes he put on me in NJ has left my faith in a benevolent deity shaken.  The women's race had an exciting finish, with Steph Schell and Mary Beth battling the entire course before Steph seized the lead for good.  Loukia Lili rounded out the podium.  The double of Craig & Eric battled with the singles of Flavio & Rob for much of the race, finishing about 15 seconds behind (5th overall).  Erin & Alan had a strong race as the second double (8th overall), finishing just ahead of John H and John C.

Paddler X asked that he not be identified.  His dominating sprint performance, distinctive accent, and Ukrainian name really gives him away though.

John was getting restless after the race, so we gave him an arts & crafts project to keep him occupied.

The day wasn't quite over.  Melinda had appended a knock-out sprint tournament to the race.  Sean and John C prepared the brackets and set up a 100 meter course in the protected canal adjacent to Huddy Park.  I found myself paired against Andrii in the first round of the sprints, swapping my V10 Sport for a Stellar SEA generously loaned to me by Dave Thomas.  Given that Andrii had recently put up a top five time at the 200m US Olympic team trials (as a guest international competitor), my only hope was that he would break a tie rod and crash into the canal embankment.  Sure enough, Andrii's starting strokes seemed more like a Special Attack from a fighting videogame (Windmill of Death?  Whirring Doom?) than anything an actual human could muster.  After accelerating through the first 25 meters he shut it down and popped his drag chute.  I had anticipated a fair fight, but hadn't taken into account my ingrained deviousness.  As he all-but-coasted toward the finish, I burst a few blood vessels trying catch him by surprise.  Of course, this didn't work, but if you only saw the last 10 meters of the race, it looked sorta close.  As expected, Andrii went on to win the tournament, with Alan (now in a K-1) making short work of his opponents before succumbing to the inevitable.  On the women's side, Steph and Mary Beth repeated their 1-2 finish.

The Toms River Race promised to be the most exciting of the season, and it delivered with a great field and a series of crackerjack head-to-head matches.  Many thanks to Melinda and her crew for ushering the race into an exciting new era.  She promises that next year she'll apply her considerable logistics acumen to taming the metro-area congestion.  For a more fact-based account of the race, check out Melinda's report.

She was too polite to say anything, but Melinda was disappointed that everybody else ignored the "casual elegance" dress code.

Steph, Mary Beth, and Loukia were gracious enough to pose for a podium picture.  The prima donna men demanded an appearance fee and 30% of any downstream revenues. 

Next up is the New England Marathon Paddlesport Championships in Hinsdale, NH on Sunday, August 1.  This is a 12 mile flatwater jaunt on the Connecticut River.  And, of course, the weekend after that is the Blackburn Challenge.  Although there won't be any official timing this year, Wesley Echols is organizing an informal time-yourself start at 8:00am for all surfskiers (see here for details).