Double Beaver: Double Trouble

There's been a lot of speculation as to exactly how Tim Dwyer manages to convince world-class paddlers to participate in one of his races every few years.  I suspect he has some dirt on the Rhode Island Bureau of Tourism that he leverages to obtain generous subsidies, because the alternative - his warm personality, long history in the sport, and extensive network of paddling contacts - doesn't make for good copy.  For this year's running of the Jamestown Double Beaver, Tim really put the squeeze on the Visitor Services Officer (not his real name) to arrange a public appearance by US national sprint team member Jesse Lishchuk.

I'm old enough to remember being beaten by Jesse as a child prodigy (him, not me), but for others this would be their first chance to meet this amazing athlete in person.  He didn't disappoint - in either the race itself or in his post-lunch workshop.  Jesse spent the race flitting around like a deranged hummingbird, combining interval training, paddler wellness checks, and just plain youthful exuberance.  If there were classes in this race, starting with Jesse alone in "Elite" and progressing through "Expert", "Advanced", and lesser levels from there, we'd have had about 7 empty classes before getting to the rest of us in "Present".  It goes without saying - at least from this sentence on - that Jesse won.  Poof.  For the purpose of this report, he wasn't in the race.

With the kid out of the picture, recent Ride the Bull champion Ed Joy was undoubtedly the favorite.  Ronald Rivera finished only a couple minutes back in that race, after having honed his rough-water skills dodging ferries (as well as items left best unidentified) in the disturbed waters around Manhattan.  Hailing from western Massachusetts, flatwater specialist Joel Pekosz had edged me out in the Oxbow Paddle earlier this season.  A few weeks later, however, I really turned things around when we met at the Mystic River Herring Run.  Alas, not in a good way - Joel absolutely kippered me at that race, smoking me by several minutes.  I'd need a little help from a surly ocean.

During the captain's meeting, Tim had trouble competing with the contradictory instructions I was relaying via my drone's loudspeaker.  We came this close to running a half mile version of the race where we paddled backwards.

Just in case you're wondering, the guy with the paddle - that's the international-caliber athlete. (photo courtesy of Olga Sydorenko)

Intriguingly, 4 doubles would be competing.  It seemed quite likely that the pairings of Tim & Wesley, Max Yasochka & Andrius Zinkevichus, and Mary Beth Gangloff & Kirk Olsen would be mixing it up with the top singles for the overall title (again, excluding Jesse).  Robin Francis & Igor Yeremeev might not be contenders, but it was nice to have a tandem that wasn't crewed by scurrilous cutthroats.  In addition to the skis, we were joined by a handful of OCs and SUPs of undetermined demeanor.

This would be at least the 15th running of the notoriously challenging race - it's hard to pin down an exact count since many of the early records still remain sealed due to ongoing litigation by next of kin.  Racers would start off the end of the Conanicut Yacht Club dock, proceed 1.5 miles across the relatively protected waters of Jamestown Harbor, round Bull Point, then spend 3.5 miles crossing open water to the Beavertail Light buoy before returning to the start.  Traditional geometry puts the total length at 10 miles, but after factoring in boat wakes, refractory waves, and unpredictable tidal currents, I've seen paddlers who have logged thrice that in subjective distance.  Sorry, typo.  Not "seen", "been".  Although the forecast was for mild conditions and the harbor was calm, veterans knew to strap down their valuables, get their affairs in order, and gird their loins.  That may seem redundant, but it pays to triple-check these things.

Here's the take home from this picture... In a fight with Andrius, you'd end up stabbed through the heart with your own broken femur.  In a fight with Max, he'd set a kitten on your head. (photo courtesy of Olga Sydorenko)

Chris watched, forlorn, as the last paddler left the beach headed to the start.  A single tear ran down his cheek.  Then he remembered that he brought a boat too.

If anyone was hoping for a gradual enough start by the leaders that they could slot in easily on a draft, I was sorely disappointed.  The abrupt acceleration of Ronald, Ed, and Max & Andrius practically dislocated my confidence within the first 15 seconds of the race.  With some moral (and hydrodynamic) support from Joel and Tim & Wesley, however, I managed to cling to a glimmer of hope.  After weaving through the densest concentration of boats and buoys in the harbor (with one notable near-collision where I nearly dropped a stitch), I noticed Ed pulling landward to catch a few runners.  He's a master at finding the subtlest boosts.  Knowing that anything I could do, Ed could do better - but hoping that anything he could do, I could do maybe 72% as effectively, I followed his lead.  Joel did as well, but I was pleasantly surprised that my mere 100-fold advantage in ocean paddling hours allowed me to crack a gap between us.  He soon reverted to the outside line that most of the other leaders were pursuing.

At Bull Point, Max & Andrius and Ed had a 10 length lead over me, with Tim & Wesley right on my tail, Ronald just behind them, and Mary Beth & Kirk less than a half dozen lengths further back.  Now targeting the distant Beavertail Light, I pulled slightly ahead of the others.  I chased the leaders from 5 lengths back.  When I again noticed the other three boats a few minutes later, they were a good quarter mile outside of me in approximately the same arrangement.  I was clearly still ahead of them, until, in a matter of less than 10 minutes, I wasn't.  I'd heard Tim claim many times that even though he'd been paddling here for nigh on 75 years (he's older than he looks), he was still as confused by the Narragansett tidal currents as he was by push-button telephones.  I bought into this hokum, in part because I'd repeatedly seen him searching for the finger holes on his cell phone.  But I should have known that the crafty locals would be taking the best line for the outgoing tide.

I tried not to be squeamish about it, but I wasn't exactly thrilled about the last-second cockpit adjustments Wesley asked for help with.

While Max & Andrius and Ed slowly lengthened their lead, I merged with the train led by Tim & Wesley as the upcoming Beavertail headland began pinching us together.  I zippered in a couple of lengths behind their double, and a couple ahead of Ronald and Mary Beth & Kirk.  Tim & Wesley looked more comfortable than one would have liked at this stage - not exactly paddling languidly, but at a measured pace that hinted at deeper reserves.  Figuring I'd better give myself a buffer before they spooled up to full power, I used some interval efforts to put them back behind me.  At the Beavertail buoy, Ed and Max & Andrius were 10 lengths ahead of me, Tim & Wesley 3 lengths back, with Mary Beth & Kirk and then Ronald each a half-dozen lengths further back.

Given Tim & Wesley's line-related gains on the outbound leg, I probably should have shadowed them on the way home.  In my defense, they were flagrantly ignoring my navigational lead after the turn, so I felt petulantly justified in refusing to acknowledge the superiority of the upstarts' course, even after they slipped ahead on an inside line.  I was, however, willing to eat enough crow to, uh, let's say, trend in their general direction to avoid being lapped.  Ed and Max & Andrius, who had started their return on a line much further out than mine, realized how much of their effort they were wasting against the current as they fell behind both the new lead double and me.  They veered shoreward in response.  I now had Ed and two doubles in pursuit as Tim & Wesley widened their lead.

Being ahead of Ed had a "I'm just happy to be nominated" feel to it.  Now that we were on the same line, it wasn't likely I was going to win the award, but if I could drum up some kind of grassroots support from the other paddlers while simultaneously waging a black-ops smear campaign on Ed, maybe I'd have a chance.  Unfortunately, nobody was close enough to either pull me to victory or cancel Ed.  After a heated battle (that is, Ed periodically overheating and stopping to douse his head), he overtook me in the polls and opened a runaway lead.  Now I had only Max & Andrius and Mary Beth and Kirk to thwart.

Although I wasn't obsessing about the relative position of the pursuing doubles, a mild curiosity resulted in what my new orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Huber, refers to as "severe C1-C2 degradation due to excessive head rotation".  If I were the anxious type, the fact that Max & Andrius loomed comically closer with every backward glance might have sent me into full-blown hysteria.  The memory of my actual reaction is a little vague, however, since Doc Huber also has me on pretty heavy doses of Paxil and Klonopin.  He's kind of a jack-of-all-trades.

Inevitably, Max & Andrius passed me shortly after we entered Jamestown Harbor.  After the race, they complemented me on my ability to navigate through the rocks at the entrance of the harbor without once actually looking forward.  When fighting for dominance, it's important to maintain eye contact to avoid the appearance of weakness.  Based on the results, however, it's evidently more important to actually not be weak.  With Max & Andrius successfully flushed from the Worry Pool (as Hube suggests I call it), I could concentrate on the existential threat posed by Mary Beth & Kirk.

Kirk demonstrates why the Epic V8 Double is nicknamed "The Crotchbuster".  (photo courtesy of Olga Sydorenko)

Up ahead, Ed challenged Tim & Wesley for the lead, but wasn't able to permanently overtake them due to ongoing malfunctions in his heat dissipation subsystems.  Steam (hopefully) venting from his orifices, he had to settle for the non-Jesse solo crown 15 seconds behind the non-Jesse overall champions, Tim & Wesley.  Max & Andrius took third overall 16 seconds later.  Driven to a berserker state by the prospect of having to move out of our house to avoid the incessant gloating of Mary Beth (just packing up my Hummel collection by itself would be unthinkable), I actually managed to close to within 20 seconds of Max & Andrius while staying well ahead of Mary Beth & Kirk.  In the Big Bang cosmology time-frame, that 8 second gap encompassed at least a half-dozen distinct epochs.  I particularly enjoyed the Inflationary Phase.  Ronald took the non-Jesse solo bronze soon after.

While rinsing off the heat beyond the finish line, we excitedly rehashed the events of the race.  Usually such discussions are peppered with "shoulda" and "if only" lamentations, but, miraculously, the paddlers from the 6 lead boats all seemed to be pleased with their performances.  Well, it was tough to tell with Ed since he was cooling off by floating face-down in the water during the 15 minute discussion, but he definitely wasn't complaining.

One of the fan favorites of Jesse's post-race clinic was this moment.  They eventually had to call in 3 more people to wrestle me into the proper paddling position.

She's mocking me, isn't she?

At roughly half the length of the Blackburn Challenge, the discomfort engendered by the Double Beaver should be sufficient to dissuade even the hardiest of paddlers from subjecting themselves to the longer race on July 15th.  Please keep that in mind before registering and foiling my rapidly diminishing chances at ever winning the thing.  Better see if the Hubester has anything that might help.

You can find additional photos of the Double Beaver by Olga Sydorenko here.