Blackburn Challenge Race Summaries - July 18, 2009

By Erik Borgnes, Erik McNett, Wesley Echols, Mark Ceconi, Wayne Lysobey, Roger Gocking, Dana Gaines

& Bill Kuklinski

** Updated 7/23 ** - Mark Ceconi Summary

Erik Borgnes' Summary

The wind and waves that could've been wasn't, and so we prepared for a long slog that morning. The start was not that fast and at mile 1, we were probably a group of 15 skis, all too close together, weaving in and out of buoys and slower boats that started in earlier waves. There were too many boat hits and paddle smacks to have called it a comfortable group. At one point, Patrick bolted off the front to get away from the madness. I think the cause was that some skis were positioned in between normal drafting positions, which made for "weirdness" in the group, i.e. you normally ride the bow wake alongside another ski, making darn certain that your bow never gets in the way of that paddler's blade exit, or you ride directly astern of another ski. If you ride in most other positions, you'll prevent other skis from "fitting" into usual drafting spots, and so you end up setting up clashing paddles and boats.

In any event, the madness was starting to settle down when we left the Annisquam river and turned out onto the Atlantic at mile 3. Our group was now about 8 paddlers and now only 2 or 3 abreast. At about mile 4, I was getting a bit squeezed inbetween the paddler to my left and an outcropping of rock, heretofore known as "Hilburn's rock". You don't want to have a rock named after you. I slid over the outer margin of the pool table size rock, as the waves rolled up and over it. I actually didn't really see that it was a potential hazard until I was over it and smacked my right paddle blade on it. Because I was using a 3" long nub of a rudder in my paranoia of catching weeds, I passed right over without hitting. Poor Jeff Hilburn was on my stern. I'm thinking that the water must have run out another inch by the time he went over it, or else he went slightly inside of my line. In any case, the sound that I heard was horrible. The sound of gelcoat scraping followed almost immediately by the solid knock of a glass/epoxy rudder, kevlar/epoxy crunching and then the sound of hexagon core material popping and crushing all in rapid succession. It was like someone threw a huge handful of those snap pops onto the ground in one throw. Clearly, his race ended at that point which was unfortunate. Shortly afterwards, I looked around and saw Joe the Glickman, Ed Joy in his homemade ski - held together by scotch tape, paper mache', and lots of hopes and prayers, Corey Lancaster in his millenium, and Don and Patrick in front of the group. So, now we were down to 6, though I might have missed any other(s) just off the back of our group. The next time I looked around, I only saw Patrick, Don, Corey, and that was probably about at mile 7 or so.

Four of us started across the large bay at the NE end of Cape Ann island, and only one came out. . . Don, Patrick and I soon dropped Cory, and then picked off slower paddlers ahead of us in the thickening fog. The lead group way ahead was an OC2 and 2 OC1's who told us that they were on the right course to the gap at Straitsmouth - and they were. Because we didn't want to slow down and follow them, we went on ahead and soon found it very disorienting with variable wind and swell. After about 10 minutes of this, I remember hearing a foghorn ahead and to the left, and reacted by aiming in that direction, Don and Patrick on my bow wake at the time. My reaction was that the foghorn must have marked where the strait was, but the foghorn actually marks the outer margin of the island, not the strait. Logical now, but then . . . But, in my defense, Don didn't say anything and he probably knew the area better than I did - so it's OUR mess-up. So, we saw land, heard the foghorn, and followed the shore, rounded the island, and knew that something wasn't right. Just a few minutes later, we saw all the other boats coming through the strait to our right, including the fast skis. Thinking that we just lost the race for the win, I put my head down and went into time trial mode to try to get back up to the front. Our speed was good and I pulled for about the next 30 minutes. The water then was wobbly and I was having a difficult time with boat tracking and balance at times because of my 3 inch rudder - which I now agree is pretty useless unless it's pretty much "K1 flat". 1 ft swell coming over our left stern. We caught lots of very short rides. Sometime in here, Don dropped off and went wide. Apparently, he had some severe butt pain from his borrowed padded-seat V12, but he was probably searching for more current, too.

Patrick and I then ran into traffic as an OC6 was passing us to our right, we were coming up to Cory and Ed who were about 100 yds ahead, and the Gloucester harbor wall was about 1 mile to go. To avoid riding the OC6's wake, Patrick and I had to change course, or so I thought. I went around behind it to get on its right, while Patrick stayed to the outside. The OC6 sped up and went past us, then slowed relative to us, and we then found ourselves flanking the OC6. The problem now was that the shore was coming in from the right, Cory was just ahead of me, and Patrick was to the outside of the OC6, so the OC6 was effectively penned in - and I was getting squeezed along the rocks. About then, the OC6 steersman understood what was happening and he slowed and went around back of Patrick, which let Cory and I get out from the shore rocks. By then, we were arriving at the harbor wall, Patrick was 30 yds ahead, and Ed was alongside of me. We rounded the harbor wall with the four of us pretty close together. The last 1.9 miles upwind into the current, I just could not close the 30 yd gap up to Patrick and finished 11 seconds back. Don managed to catch and pass both Cory and Ed, and finished 3rd, 1 min 9 sec behind me. ~ Erik

My Take On The Blackburn - Erik McNett

At the gun, the largest field of surfskis ever assembled at any racing event on the east coast tore away from the starting area at a high rate of speed.  For such a big crowd on the water I was impressed with the degree of order with which the field moved. From my vantage point just behind the front line of paddlers, I had a great view of the front group, at least for a little while....  Don Keisling, Erik Borgnes and Pat Hemmens were the early pace setters followed closely by me and several others on their wakes. 

There was the friendly fellow from New York city,  Joe "Glicker" Glickman,  Cory Lancaster, a man on a mission this year,  Craig Impens from New Jersey on that stealthy looking black V10, Ed Joy, currently of Florida .  

With my focus mainly being on what was happening ahead, I was not sure exactly how large the front pack of boats was or, for that matter, whether it was a pack at all, maybe the entire field was moving with this group.

After things settled down a little, I took a look back to see what was going on. A gap had opened behind the front pack and I was hanging on by teeth and fingernails to the waves set up by the leaders.  Not a bad place to be but, I was thinking don’t get dropped now!! The work was hard and rewarding as the top guys hauled us all out to the mouth of the river and the open ocean.

As we had navigated the Annisquam River most of the paddlers were accumulating some weeds on the rudders.  The first guy in the front pack I noticed slowing a little was Glicker, a two boat length gap had opened between him and Craig Impens, who was still hanging with the front group tucked in nicely on a nice juicy stern wave.

Somehow and with great relief, I found enough speed to catch Impens, as soon as I got there he asked me where Glicker was and I said he’s right behind us.

About this time, the accumulated weeds were beginning to become a factor as Ed Joy and Craig Impens deweeded each other.  As they slowed to get this done I went around the two of them and lost my chance to get a deweeding too. A few minutes later both Craig and Ed went flying by me like I was dragging the sea anchor. 

As Luck would have it, a few minutes later I caught my friend Margo Pellegrino on her Fuze OC1 and asked her if she wouldn’t mind clearing my rudder, she did and the magic was back in my V12. Glicker had passed me at this point, so the chase was on once again.

Looking around and ahead there was no land in sight due to the foggy conditions. There was a long line of boats ahead as the ski paddlers moved through the field of boat classes that had started ahead of us.  Accurate navigation in the fog became a necessity it became apparent because the front pack of skis went wide of the course line and lost enough time to let Craig, Glicker, me and Cory get ahead of them for a little while.  I was truly astonished to see the leaders passing me with roughly three quarters of the race behind us.  Craig Impens went left for their wake but arrived a little too far behind to catch the train.  The train of Erik Borgnes, Don Keisling and Patrick Hemmens was pretty far off to our left. Cory Lancaster was gone and most likely hammering toward the finish line alone.

Glicker was way ahead as Impens and I rounded the breakwater together, I still had some gas and was aiming to pressurize Impens on the final stretch to the finish line when he said to me " I wish you were still racing outriggers"  After a quick chuckle , we got back to the business at hand.  Once again we were both with weeds, he maybe more than me as he stopped and backed them off, I stepped on the gas but the full magic of the V12 wasn’t there, maybe it was fatigue or maybe it was weeds, who knows?

As it turned out, it was weeds and Craig was coming after me in full sprint mode.  The two of us finished together with Craig just ahead and my wife and her partner Colleen Moore who were their OC2 making for a three way sprint.

A great time was had by all at this terrific east coast event.....~ Erik

Wesley's Perspective

Every ocean race is a unique experience. This is the excitement of ocean racing; there are so many unpredictable factors to take into account. The usual weather conditions; wind, current, tide, water/air temperature, fog and surf, if applicable.  This day’s race forecast was initially for a small craft warning with thunderstorms and fog. It was downgraded by the time the skipper’s meeting took place, but it looked like it was going to be a rough day on the water. Fortunately, the forecast did not come true. It turned out to be one of the flattest days experienced, compared to other Blackburn races. 

What is predictable before such huge races like the Blackburn is the pre race activity. For me, beside registering and getting my boat ready, I was saying hello to fellow paddlers that I have not seen in a while, like Richard Germain and his wife Chantal. Richard did the Molokai in May so I was excited to visit and get his take on it. I was also taking some pictures, okay, LOTS of pictures Yes, if you have a web site, you need content and lots of pics. I tried not to be too obnoxious about it. My friends tolerate this and most are agreeable. Suffice to say that every moment is a photo op.

After the flurry of pre race activity, my wife took a few shots of me, I gave her my pre-race anxiety hug and I paddled off to the start line. While waiting for the other classes of boats to go off, I was able to meet Tracy Landboe http://www.soundrowers.org/wow/tracy.htm from Washington State, who Chris Chappell had paddled with on Wednesday at the Charles River Training Race.

I also chatted with several other paddlers for a few minutes before the start.  Like Tracy and others (Patrick Hemmens, Don Keisling, Joe Glickman, Erik Borgnes, etc.), all flew in from various parts of the country and the world. In Joe’s case. I often have wondered how paddlers function at optimal levels knowing the symptoms of jet lag, which can include daytime sleepiness, decreased alertness, impaired performance, fatigue, gastrointestinal disturbances and a host of other problems.  ‘Jet lag: It can impair the judgment and compromise the performance of athletes,’ reads an article in Chronological International, 2002, “Jet Lag in Athletes after Eastward and Westward Time Zone Transition” cited in Circadian Rhythm Sleep Disorders, Sleep Medicine Clinics.  I digress some here, but although jet lag can never be mentioned in the results of a race, I can’t help but think it has some impact on those who travel across time zones.

Suffering zero jet lag myself, only the typical pre-race jitters, I lined up comfortably behind my training partner, Tim Dwyer, like I have done on numerous times over the past five years.  The gun went off, and the pace was intense. The lead pack of 8 or so, separated after a mile. Tim and I were together but feeling the lack of wind, sunscreen, and humidity, our heart rates were climbing. We both decided pre race, to take a more moderate pace out the river, so we backed off slightly with me pulling. I slowed some, urging Tim to get on my wash, but he decided to take no chances, and wanted some left in the tank for the last few miles of the race. Feeling pretty good, I spotted Mike McDonough off to my right, which was a surprise. Mike is known to take a very moderate approach during the early stages of the race, preferring to hunt down his prey as they grow weary. I commented to Mike; “You changed your tactic!” and quickly latched on his wash.

Mike’s goal was to close the gap between us and the back of the lead pack, which was Tracy at this point.  After about a half mile, I told Mike I would pull and try to close the gap before we switched again.  After a few minutes of looking at my rapidly skyrocketing heart rate, I told Mike the pace was too fast so we both slowed. After about a minute, I felt pretty good and decided to pick it up some. Mike, at this point, collected a severe case of ‘the deadly weeds’ and could not maintain the pace. Having picked up weeds at least year’s race and again during a training paddle on the race course two weeks prior to today’s race, I took extra care this year by replacing my nine inch elliptical rudder with an eight inch weed less rudder mated perfectly with an Epic kelp guard.

After a few more minutes I was able to catch Tracy, and later Andrew Soles, of Washington, DC. By this time, the lead pack was about a minute ahead. As I came out off the river into the ocean, I noticed an overturned Think ski. I thought it could be only one of two people, Jeff Hilburn or Erik. It was Jeff. As I grew closer, I called out to Jeff if he was okay. He replied that he hit a rock and would paddle it to shore. I paddled on, thinking Jeff traveled so far from Washington State only to hit a rock and dash his hopes of being in the top 10, after talking to him when he picked up a loaner Think Legend from me a few days earlier.

I paddled on, wondering if the fog was going to lift and how rough it would be once I got to Straitsmouth. I focused on two things: my heart rate and the next boat in front of me, in order to maintain a line through the fog. By this time, we were all picking off the other classes of boats, so there was always someone ahead of me. I was paddling by myself between the lead pack of guys and the pack behind me. Once I got to Straitsmouth, the fog began to lift and I could make out what I thought was another surfskier about a quarter mile ahead, although I noted he had taken a much closer line to the shore. I focused on closing the gap, but that was futile because after a mile, I could no longer see him. He had picked up his pace. What I could see, however, was a pack of 3 paddlers a mile ahead, way off shore.

I thought to myself: ‘Wow, maybe they know something I don’t know about the course.’  It turned out this was not the case.  I found out later the lead pack of Patrick, Erik, and Don went way too far out due to the fog, and were trying to get back on course as the other lead paddlers of Cory, Joe, Craig, Ed, and Eric McNett had taken the correct course, and were in the lead now. Once the trio realized their mistake, they put the hammer down to chase down pack.

Meanwhile, I was getting paranoid wondering: ‘Where is the pack of paddlers I am normally behind or in close proximity to at most races?’ This would include: Tim Dwyer, Mike Tracy, Mike McDonough, Kirk Olsen, Mark Ceconi, Alex McClain, and Steve Delguadio. Paddling solo for 17 miles with no other surfskis can play havoc with your mind. I was in No Man’s Land wondering: ‘Did those guys possibly go around me in the fog?’

Again, I tried to focus on 2 things: Heart rate (since no one else was around to key off of), and staying relaxed while hydrating. Every couple of miles, I would scan toward the shore to see if the pack was gaining on me. I could see no one. I found out later in talking to Tim, that he never saw me again until the finish. Focusing now on just getting to within the 2 mile range of the jetty while maintaining my current heart rate of 153, I figured I could hold off any surge with an extended 2 mile sprint to the finish. The sprint never materialized. I did increase my pace and heart rate to 158-160 trying to catch a rowing shell, then an OC2.

I Looked at my total elapsed time and I was at 2 hours, 30 minutes, as I made the turn into the harbor, doing the quick calculations. Will I break 3 hrs? Certainly, will I break 2:50. Feeling giddy, I picked it up, counting my strokes in sets of 30 to maintain form and focus. With a mile to go, I realized 2:50 was not doable, but 2:55 was…very. That was my goal, to be within 2:50-2:55, having put in a 3:06 minute time last year, and a 2:59 the year before that in my S1R. I picked off the OC 2 within the last quarter mile and sprinted to the finish with a personal record of 2 hours 52 minutes and 34 seconds, 9th Place overall ~ Wesley.

Blackburn 2009: The Breakfast Perspective by Mark Ceconi

‘The Blackburn Challenge.’ The very name never fails to send a shiver of anticipation down my spine. This would be my fifth running of the Blackburn, and the forecast did not look sympathetic: ‘small craft advisory, winds out of the SE at 10-15 kts., gusting to 20, potential thunderstorms, and light rain’. ‘Small craft advisory’ by our Long Island Sound standards in Connecticut generally means ‘We may get something to surf.’ Up here it meant: ‘Toto, we’re not in Connecticut any more.’ The night before at dinner in nearby Peabody, our two tables of racers checked Blackberries and iPhones for the latest NOAA updates. Patrick Hemmens and Erik Borgnes were no doubt hoping for ‘Perfect Storm’ conditions, while Jim, Steve, Tom, Wesley, Chris and I had our fingers crossed for something less. I could only feign nonchalance and hope for the best, that I wouldn’t end up screaming for Auntie Em.

Thankfully, someone above smiled upon me and granted me ‘the best.’ The morning of, the winds had abated, the seas looked calm, and the rain had diminished then stopped altogether. The fog remained, but nothing like the conditions that forced the race’s cancellation and abbreviated course several years prior. We were on. My only concern now was the distance at race pace, having hit the wall at mile 15 each year previously, and coming into this one with far less training. Betsy and Wesley Echols ferried me over from our hotel, and we stopped for coffee at George’s, where I had one of the best egg and cheese sandwiches I have ever experienced. It was that good. At this point I must pause and add that if you’re ever in Gloucester, you must have breakfast at Patty’s ‘Two Sisters’ establishment right up the street from the Fishermans’ Memorial. Have the Patriot bread with whatever delectable platter you’re experiencing, and while you’re at it, send me a slice or two to thank me. Eggs get messy in the mail.

After chatting it up at registration with a plethora of old paddling friends, and collecting my purple ‘Competitor’ t shirt, GU packs and numbers were duct taped on with highly charged enthusiasm. If a squirrel had the poor judgment to scamper by my ski during this frenzy of activity, I would have certainly duct taped the bushy-tailed rodent to my craft. The fields amassed for each start, race officials calling out the competitors’ numbers like teachers taking attendance on a school field trip.

At approximately 8:35, we were off! Immediately, the pace leaped into the 8 mph range and the pack split, then fractured again. The big dogs were rapidly disappearing up the Annisquam. I watched Wesley ‘You Should Be Training’ Echols’ and Steve ‘I Smell the Barn’ Delgaudio’s backs fade away into the horizon. Half a mile in, the mouthpiece of my drinking tube popped off, spewing Accelerade across my lap. Knowing the bladder would empty immediately and leave me without liquids for the entire race, I coasted to push it back on. ‘A dark omen,’ I thought. This would happen easily four times during the next three hours, and I made a mental note to seek out and destroy the Camelbak product engineer responsible for this little design detail. While many others collected weeds like gardeners, I also made a mental note to thank ‘Huki’ Jude for designing his rudders so this wasn’t much of an issue for me.

Kathy Manizza and Ken Larson were right behind, urging me to bridge the gap to the next group. Between the stitch in my side, and the HR monitor registering a steady state 170 bpm, this struck me as a less than stellar idea at the time. Ken fired around as if shot from a cannon, and he and Kathy were gone. We came out of the river and into some minor chop. The fog was more present out here in open water; I could make out the hazy outlines of paddlers and rowers ahead as if viewed through a translucent shower curtain. Settling in to a comfortable pace, the lobster pot buoys paraded by; I was hoping to eventually reel in others through attrition. Worked for the tortoise; it could work for me. Conditions were benign-some slow rolling swell punctuated by periods of eerily glassy calm.

Crossing Folly Cove, just shy of Halibut Point, I rejoined Kathy. “What did you feed Ken?” I shouted, sensing a breakfast theme here. “He had my oatmeal instead of the usual Dunkin’ Donuts!” she called back. “Don’t do that ever again!” I replied. Lo and behold, who should take form in the fog, but Ken. “Right on cue!” I shouted, “Time to make the donuts!” Feeling better now, I punched the HR back up into the 170 zone, realizing that this was in fact, a race, despite my desire for a jelly stick and mocha latte. We started picking off boat after boat in the sea kayak class, with the occasional surf ski mixed in for good measure. Spectators were cheering from the cliffs at Halibut Point, ghostly apparitions on the rocks.

Right at the beginning of the crossing for Sandy Bay, who should I see in his usual textbook spot far out to sea, but none other than my bud, Jim Hoffman. Eventually our paths converged and we traded three minute intervals to keep the pace up. We passed Margo ’20 Miles? A Mere Warm Up!’ Pellegrino, always ready with a beaming smile and cheer of encouragement, and could hear the enthusiastic war whoops of a huge outrigger canoe coming up on our left. Can’t miss them, for sure-they’re like a rolling party on the water-such fun. By now, the seas were rolling a bit more, with the occasional boat wake offering a mini ride or two. Jim and I dropped in behind the outrigger for smoother going, but found the confused wake more taxing than beneficial, so we dropped to the side of Team Humuhumunukunukuapua’a (?) and continued on our merry way. Here we picked up some bumps, linking mini run to mini run wherever possible.

Jimmy was picking up weeds with some frequency with his Epic, while my Huki stayed fairly clear. However, between his flora collecting and my spring-loaded mouthpiece, we stopped a few times to readjust, just before the halfway checkpoint at Straitsmouth, where we shouted our numbers to the check boat. By now the fog was lifting and the sky was brightening. Over to our left, lookee there! It was ‘Dubai’ Tom’ Kerr. “Tommyyy!!” I yelled.  “Ohhhhh, tell me that’s not you!” was his oh so welcoming reply. Rundown, brungdown, dejected, rejected and detested, I smiled widely and added: “And look to your left; it’s Jimmy!” 'A fourth member of 'Team On a Wing and a Prayer', Steve Delgaudio, was somewhere over the rainbow, where bluebirds fly, speeding toward the finish. In protest of reclassification of his Westside EFT into the HPK class under SoundRower's rules, evidently noone told Steve his boat should be slower than the big skis; he would comfortably crack the vaunted 3 hour mark.'

We paddled on for a bit, joined by Will Smith (Men in Black?) in his distinctive banded Fenn. At the lighthouse and seawall at Dog Bar, this group took the smarter and faster inside line along the rocks, hotly pursued by Marcus DeMuth in his V10. I stayed further out in the current (Why?), hoping for a push or two from the incoming swell funneling into Gloucester Harbor. For those that have done this race, this last bit is deceptive. Besides the fact that it can be a choppy, confused mess of fishing and pleasure boat traffic, it’s roughly two miles across the harbor to the white building on the beach and the greasy pole, but appears much closer. It’s an optical illusion, a trick of the eye, its apparent nearness a siren’s song to lure you into shooting it all too early then crying for your mommy when the building grows no closer. Since we were all converging at the same point, it would be a long, sprint finish, and I wondered just how much was left in my tank.

Coming around the corner Marcus broke left, and Jim promptly mowed a swath through yet another path of weeds, forcing another rudder clear. I came up on ‘Jersey’ Joe Ervin, and together, we uncorked a two mile ‘sprint’, hoping to overtake Will and reel in Jay Appleton, who I sighted in on dead ahead. Marcus increased his gap, smoothly putting blades to water, and Will and I were neck and neck almost all the way to the pole. In the last hundred yards to the finish, I was two boat lengths off Jay and closing far to the left. A pleasure craft went by and he neatly picked up the second wake, holding his gap all the way to the line. Will had edged me too, but we all finished strongly and kept the pedal to the metal all the way home.

Another Blackburn down. We carried our boats to the beach, rehydrated, grabbed quick sponge showers for the short term, and changed at the cars in time to rejoin the post race festivities. By now the sun had broken out loud and clear and it was HOT. The beer was flowing freely at the Ipswich tap truck, the band was rocking, and cheerful volunteers were doling out pulled chicken, pork, and fish chowder at the food tent. The line stretched for massages and stories were traded back and forth about epic and personal battles from the day. The flavor of the race, the level of competition, and the dedication and good spirits of the organizers and volunteers, make this a true ‘must do’ event on anyone’s short list of paddling competitions. Thank you once again to all. I can’t wait for breakfast in Gloucester again next year. ~Mark

Bill's Most Excellent Blackburn - Wayne Lysobey - Sliding Seat Racing Single Class

Gil and I had Bill out for his first row outside the harbor. By the time we got to the end of Sheffield Island the SW wind was kicking up the waves up to two feet. Bill was a sailor. He had seen waves before. Never rowed in them though. I knew he kept a close eye on Gil and me to see if we showed any signs of concern. The Alden Ocean Shells could more than handle the conditions. So could Bill. Welcome to open water.

Six years later. Bill and I went out together for some higher intensity training for The Blackburn Challenge. Bill was loving his new Maas 24 Carbon. We did a 45-minute training piece, starting outside Norwalk Harbor and going around Sprite Island and then Cockonoe Island. Four minutes hard at a 25 strokes per minutes, one minute easy rowing. This until we got to 45 minutes. We knew that for The Blackburn we would want that pace for 3 hours or so, without much in the way of rowing easy for a minute.

"It would be harder to do that workout alone out here," Bill said

For The Blackburn 2009 I printed up a Race Plan. Something I haven't done before, at least not in detail. I had my stops planned, my stroke rates and notes on my "Mindset" and effort levels. I had notes on how much efuel drink and how much "Sustained Energy" drink I would consume. The older I get the more I like having plans for stuff. There was even a spot where I said, "Here I pass someone."

I sent Bill and our friend Rob emails of my Race Plan. It turned out to be a good race plan. It turned out to be a perfect race plan. (Foreshadowing here)

Bill and I have done lots of races and rows together. Bill is not particularly built for rowing. In some of Bill's earlier successful races and rows, I recall he joked "not bad for a short fat guy." He doesn't use that phrase anymore.

The weather report was making me nervous. At one point, the forecast for the Blackburn had 80% chance of thunderstorms during the scheduled race. Bill had more faith then I did. "I don't believe it.,” he said

Bill was right. By Saturday morning 6:00 am, the heavy rain and thunderstorms had passed by.

My race plan was for a 3 hour 5 minute Blackburn. Last years was 3 hour 7 minute. I was very happy with last years result.

It was crowded at the start. I lined up behind Tim Willsallen. I knew he would jump out quick and not be in my way for more than a few seconds. Kinley Gregg was next to him. I think Bill was a few boats away.  3,2,1 GO!

I started right on the plan. Stroke rate 28 spm for 3 minutes, then drop to 26/27 until I see 20 minutes gone by. Then drop to 24/25 for the duration. By 20 minutes most of the pack was ahead. I expected that. My race plan predicted 9th place out of 15, for the 1x sliding seat racing. Not too ambitious sounding, but if you knew the Blackburn...... And if you knew the competitors ahead of me.....

Bill was close by. He likes to go out strong. I have done that and sometimes it works, and sometimes you crash. I hate to crash. Bill typically stays near me for a while. He has a good idea of my pace. A number of races my pace had been to fast for Bill to stick to. This year he knew the whole race plan. I was not going to overwork the first half of the race. One of my "Mindset" notes is "the race starts here" at the halfway point, which is Straitsmouth Point.

It helps you to keep going sometimes when you are pacing someone. Bill was staying side-by-side or a little ahead all the way to Straitsmouth. I followed my plan, stopping at 50 minutes to hydrate, even though I don't feel thirsty by this point. If I don't stay hydrated I am prone to cramping. Hate that cramping.

Bill pulled into Straitsmouth just ahead of me. We shout out our numbers to the official’s boat. This is an extra long stop for me. " We are right on the plan" I yell to Bill.

Time to gulp down lots of the Sustained Energy drink and The efuel drink. I see Bill has taken off already. I am in no hurry. Take your time. Get hydrated up and energized. The race starts here.

Now we go into "the big wave area". I had that called right in my race plan. Some pretty well behaved and not too steep waves, but more than enough to make a 13" wide at the waterline boat feel like it was in open water.

Bill was doing well piggybacking on my race plan I thought. I didn't feel like I was racing him. Just do your own race and don't worry about Bill.  Bill is likely to slow down soon. This I know from experience. I have found in many races when you are rowing near someone, one of you might feel like you are in a head to head race and the other might just be doing their own thing.

Bill is keeping ahead. He is loving his Maas. My Peinert Dolphin is right at home also. The Maas is a small 1" wider at the waterline. I believe the Maas is easier to row in the waves and the Peinert Dolphin a little faster in flat water. I start putting in a little more effort. The waves get a little easier. Things were going according to plan. Except this was the area the plan was to pass someone. No one was accommodating to this part of the plan. Well, soon I will probably be passing Bill, I thought. He is doing great. I can spot his green shirt in my rower’s mirror. I keep to my plan, except for the pass someone part. I stop, according to plan. Bill stops when I do I notice. Takes off when I do. I haven’t gained on him yet. Plenty of race left. Just stick to my plan. I wasn't racing Bill. I was doing my own race.

I know it is 2 or 3 miles to the Breakwater, which is the start of Gloucester Harbor. About time I pass Bill, but if not, my plan was for a push in the harbor. Bill was doing well. Last year I had come in 50 minutes ahead of him. No doubt I would be passing him soon.

Last hydration stop before the breakwater. I was 5 minutes off the race plan maybe, but feeling pretty confident still. Time to push. I saw Bill seemed to be getting a better line than I was. I'll catch up to Bill by the Breakwater I was thinking. Bill kept the inside track and made it there first. Now I feel the race. Still time to pass Bill. The plan saved something for the push in the harbor. Two miles to the finish. I stop at the end of the breakwater. There are people cheering on the competitors. I hydrate. I start to worry about stopping too long. I start the last leg. The last leg all right. Wam. My left thigh gets hit with a cramp. I have to stop. Knead the cramp. Grab the efuel with the extra electrolytes (the endurolytes). A concerned safety boat comes over. "Yea I'm OK, just a leg cramp." They got there quickly. Like a good waiter, unseen, but there when needed.

OK, the race ain't over yet. I know Bill is tired. What a good race he is having. This cramping is annoying. Some rowers are taller than others, some have better bigger hearts, and some need less hydration. Some have different strengths or weaknesses. Some have back problems or , etc., etc.   Whatever it is, when you get to the Blackburn "You run what you brung."

OK, I am going again. The cramp has smoothed out.  I see a tugboat that had been following us into the harbor. I do believe that the tug stood back and went out of their way to not interfere with the race. That is a change from years past when a few four foot wakes and brushes with death were not uncommon in the harbor. I think the Blackburn and its financial benefits to Gloucester are more appreciated these days.

Where's Bill? A half mile to go. The race ain't over yet. I am definitely racing Bill now. Plus I see KInley's orange shirt a few minutes back in the harbor. Pick it up. Wow, looks like Bill is going to beat me. Do two minutes at a 28. Finish strong.

"Number, Number" I heard. Jeeze, let me finish the last stroke and get through the finish first.

"Fifty Eight" I yell.  Fifty-Eight happens to be my age! "Five Eight" , "Yes, Fifty Eight"

Bill was on the good side of the finish line waiting.  After about a minute Bill rows over to where I am massaging my cramping leg.

"Wow, Great Race Bill!!!"

I finished about 8 minutes slower than my race plan. The currents and winds made for a slightly slower course this year, maybe three minutes slower. So my race plan was a good plan for me. And a perfect plan for Bill.  Bill finished 9th. That had been my plan.

I am still trying to figure out how Bill cut 41 minutes off his last year’s time. Beat me by 34 seconds. Some rowers are taller, some shorter. And some rowers can row beyond themselves. Bill "Bulldog" Russell" is one of these. This was a  peak performance for Bill.

“When one rows it is not rowing which moves the ship: rowing is only a magical ceremony by means of which one compels a demon to move the ship”-  Nietzsche

Bill had his demon working for him that day around Cape Anne.

Long Live Open Water! ~ Wayne Lysobey

Through Fog but no Perfect Storm - Roger Gocking - 2009 Fast Sea Kayak Winner

As I was driving to Gloucester from my home in Ossining I kept peering through the misty windscreen to see how much motion there was in the trees in the woods along Highway 84. In spite of the predictions for stormy conditions Mother Nature’s weather vanes seemed to standing perfectly at ease: fog and misty rain there was but no sign of winds gusting up to 20 knots. I made a slight detour to check out Gloucester Harbor before arriving at the high school, and it seemed about as calm as I have ever seen it. There was some wind from the south, as predicted, but not much sign of an impending “perfect storm.”

After the pre-race briefing I drove my car to a parking lot near the finish beach and had an easy warm-up paddle to the starting line. Things were running pretty much on time with those who had anticipated less punctuality finding themselves starting by themselves between classes. I wondered how accurate their times would be. My class, the fast sea kayaks and the sea kayaks, were off at pretty close to 8:25 and soon 40+ kayaks were strung out along the Annisquam River where it was just past high tide. I took the lead and then promptly failed to make the first angled turn to the right and a group containing Maury Eldridge, Dana Gaines and Ed Leszek nosed ahead of me. I had to push it up to 7.5 mph to get back into line with them, but quickly went into the lead and averaged about 7 mph for the 2+miles up the river into Ipswich Bay.

The fog was quite dense and the Annisquam Light House was sounding its dismal-sounding fog horn, but most of the time you could still just make-out the shore. As a result I probably stayed too close to land and at times had to pull out sharply to avoid reefs and rocks. By this time I was on my own and averaging less than 7 mph but every now and again would catch some swell and happily see the GPS bounce up to 7.5 mph. Soon I was catching the slower sea kayaks and wondering when the High Performance Kayaks would do the same to me. More unnerving, at around 6 miles or so, Dana Gaines caught up with his red and white Epic and from there it was a competition for first place in the class. Around eight miles the surf skis caught up with Pat Hemming closely followed by Eric Borgnes leading a procession that seemed to me to be on an Atlantic crossing line! They soon vanished into the fog and Dana and I continued to dice it out in our less crowded world. He seemed to have a GPS directing him so I followed him as he threaded his way through Straitsmouth. The fog began to clear and it seemed as if a hazy humid sun would finally appear and perhaps the promised 20 knot winds would appear to churn up the languid ocean surface. I don’t like humid heat and with no spray skirt I had an additional reason to pray for continued calm.

The sun changed its mind and winds remained under wraps which made the paddle along the south side of the Cape little more than a gentle rocking in the cradle than the premier open water challenge in the Northeast. Usually I was no more than a kayak length ahead of Dana and it was obviously going to come down to a sprint at the end. Just as we got to the breakwater at the Eastern Point Light, Alex McLain in her surf ski came up and passed me. That was a challenge I could not resist and got in step just behind her for the sprint to the greasy pole. The harbor, which is usually a topsy-turvy cauldron of confused waves, churned up by power boats, was the calmest I have ever seen it. The foggy conditions and promise of a storm had kept the fair weather sailors indoors, and with only a small following sea I was able to really put the hammer down. I soon passed Alex and it was obvious that Dana was not coming with me. I had Tim Dwyer in my sights as the greasy pole materialized out of the haze, but Tim obviously had some sprint left in him and nosed in about 10-15 seconds ahead of me. Like Alex he had started 10 minutes behind me so in reality they were both considerably ahead. Dana ended up second in the Fast Sea Kayak Class about 48 seconds behind me. My GPS registered 19.57 miles for the total distance.  ~ Roger

Blackburn Wrap up - Dana Gaines - Fast Sea Kayak Class

2009 would be my 18th consecutive Blackburn; twelve of them had been oar-powered and this would be my sixth time around facing forwards, having paddled Touring Doubles with Tom Mailhot in 1998, 2006 (fog- shortened course) and 2008, Double Surfski with Pam Browning in 2003, and Touring Single in 1999. That was before widespread GPS use, and I'd managed to win in a Looksha 3 largely due to successful compass navigation on a day with blue sky up above, but thick fog shrouding the shoreline. Checking the results from that year, my time was 3:12 in a class of 37 boats (all touring kayaks were lumped together in a single division). Astonishingly, there were only four racing kayaks and eleven surfskis entered back then-- how times have changed! This year there were 26 boats entered in the Fast Touring class, and a whopping 48 entries in High Performance Kayak-- nearly all of them skis.

Another difference, of course, would be the speed of the Touring boats and the depth of the competition-- more people are training much more seriously now, in designs which are both lighter and faster. I knew how fast Roger Gocking could be based on his incredible finish at Sakonnet River, 4th out of 23 in an Epic 18X touring boat, beating 18 skis in the process. Also pre-registered were James Doucette and Jonathan Katz, who I'd been sandwiched between in a close 1-2-3 finish at Essex River. And Maury Eldridge is, well, Maury Eldridge. I wasn't familiar with some of the other paddlers but the large number of Epic 18s, Lookshas, Seda Gliders, and assorted Kayakpro, QCC and other fast designs all spelled high hull speed.

The forecast had been changing by the hour and at start time carried the threat of building southeast winds, which could mean big seas off the port bow on the long back shore stretch. Regardless, we started off in a calm river at high tide, with negligible fair current. My only strategy was to go with what felt comfortable and not get caught up in any head-to-head racing on the river, while hoping to at least maintain visual contact with Roger, who I figured would take the lead quickly. I noted that he wasn't wearing a skirt, which I thought could lead to trouble if the seas indeed did kick up later on. Regardless, we came out of the Annisquam and smack into the fog with Roger in the lead but well within sight, which was a confidence builder. It remained that way around Halibut and Andrews Points as we overtook many of the sea kayaks and fixed seat pulling boats. Heading across Sandy Bay on the GPS line to the Straitsmouth Gap, we pulled basically even just as the freight train of leading skis came powering by.

The fog persisted to the halfway point, after which it lifted to haze, and once past Milk Island we could see all the way down the back shore. From there on we were pretty much side-by-side, although I could tell that Roger preferred to have a slight lead. The 18xs are difficult to steer with their minimalist rudder systems (the promised retrofit is still anxiously awaited), and even though the seas weren't big I was struggling to maintain the best line, and inevitably veering to one side or the other like a drunken sailor. That's how it went all the way to Eastern Point, still separated by no more than two boat lengths as Tim Dwyer and Alex McLain came by before the lighthouse. This provided some incentive as we tried to catch what swells there were in the lee of the breakwater. I rounded no more than 5 seconds behind Roger but then made what was likely a critical mistake, following Tim on the straight line to the finish while Roger and Alex veered off to the right. We were even for quite a while but then approaching Ten Pound Island I saw Roger start moving ahead, and quickly. Whether he was out of the foul current I was stuck in, or simply ramping it up more than I could is hard to know, but his lead lengthened dramatically in the last half mile, giving him the win by 48 seconds.

Regardless, I was pleased to finish second in just under 3:07 ten years after winning in 3:12. The Ipswich Ale tasted just as good, and the sun came out on cue for one of the best beach parties on the east coast! The threatened SE winds never materialized, and indeed the harbor went glass calm for the rest of the afternoon. It was a perfect day for a pretty fast Blackburn, and the incredibly tight finishes in many of the divisions are testament to the quality of the competition across the board. There's nothing else like it-- although hopefully the new Jamestown Counter-Revolution will add a fitting exclamation point at the end of the summer! ~ Dana

Bill  Kuklinski - Blackburn Race Committee/Surfski Paddler

The major thought I have about this year's event is the remarkable level of participant support and assistance exhibited throughout the race. I personally saw Bill Baker, an FSK entry and a SK entry (regrettably I don't know their names or remember their numbers) helping a surf ski paddler to remount somewhere prior to Halibut Point. In roughly the same area, I also saw an unknown surf ski paddler stop to help an OC-1 paddler remount. With the heavy fog in Sandy Bay, I was traveling in a pack with Stephanie Jackenthal, Bob Capellini, Bob Agustynowicz, and Chris Kielb, and we took turns providing each other navigation and status info, remount assistance, and general moral support until we were out of fog's way. I'm sure other such incidents that I did not observe we're taking place throughout the course.

And to me, this is truly what the intent and spirit of the Blackburn Challenge is about. It is above all an individual challenge, and at times that challenge will require a willingness to sacrifice personal goals in support of others. The people who rise to that challenge such as those mentioned above help not only the individual who needs immediate aid, but help the event as a whole, and I'd like to offer my sincere appreciation to all of those who responded in such fashion.

The related thought is that the Blackburn, like other large amateur events such as the Pan Mass Challenge and the Boston Marathon - is and should be as much about the people in the back of the pack as it is about the elite and near-elite. I'm continuously encouraged by the growth of surf ski and outrigger paddlers in the Blackburn - they combined in 2009 to represent about 1/3 of the total field. Some of the newer people are displacing the older veterans and challenging their top rankings in the local point standings. But I think the majority of new participants are accepting the challenge of moving these frail-looking, tippy, skinny, uncomfortable craft (and they are uncomfortable after 3 hours!), not because these people have a chance to medal, but simply because learning how to paddle these things 20 miles on the ocean is HARD. The discipline, effort, and accomplishment of anyone who does this is it's own reward. I hope we can all continue to maintain the co-operative, nurturing spirit shown by the more-experienced paddlers that is helping newer people join the sport. and finish their first Blackburn in record numbers.

Aside from that, I thought that Rich K's Captain's Meeting comments were an example of near-comic genius, Donna Lind's decision to go with rubber bands as meal tickets was actual genius, and the event ran smoothly despite the fog. I was personally thankful that the forecasted 4 - 6 foot seas didn't materialize. The course conditions were, IMHO, light-to-moderate but annoying - fairly continuous waves throughout, nothing that should really slow anyone down, but nothing that really seemed like a good downwind ride either. So, hats off to anyone who set a PR.

And, as a semi-amateur musician myself, I thought the band sounded fabulous - there is no more righteous sound than a real Hammond B3 in a blues band!

Thanks to all who contributed and participated. ~ Bill