Chattajack 2015
Driving 17 hours one way from Sioux Falls, SD to
Chattanooga, TN was a tough decision to make considering the race was listed as
a 31 mile race. Despite the long drive, the race was an incredible experience. The
scenery is incredible between the bluffs and dense trees spanning the horizon
to the view up and down river while driving over bridges. The sun was down by
the time we reached TN so the view was restricted by darkness most of the way.
One sight I clearly remember is descending down a grade looking up at the sky.
I wondered where the dark clouds came that spanned nearly as high as I could
see looking out the windshield. As I got closer, I realized they were not
clouds, the tall ridges of bluffs just towered high above us.
The night prior to the race, I drove down to Ross Landing.
The only thing that caught me off guard was the expense of parking not being
accustomed to it up in South Dakota. Beyond that shock, I met several individuals
roaming around the line to check in and at the staging area. My girlfriend and
I ventured downtown trying to find a bite to eat. Restaurants were of great
abundance but we could not find the one that caught our eye online. Standing
outside of another restaurant looking rather puzzled, one of the restaurant
staff was gracious enough to point us in the right direction. This very warming
gesture/attitude was widespread amongst everyone in the area and those standing
in line to check in for the race.
Instead of going to check into the race right away, tourist
attractions were calling our name. We ventured to Lookout Mountain about 15
minutes away from where the race would start. Looking around it was clear that
there were some decent changes in elevation but Lookout Mountain took me by
surprise with just how much of a change in elevation there was. The drive up
and down the steep roads didn’t bother me but roaming around in the National
Park had me on edge. One can see for miles in every direction from the outer points
of the park. Rumor has it that you can see 7 states from a given point in the
park but seeing the landscape in parts of Tennessee, Alabama, Georgia and North
Carolina are very possible with the naked eye. Not only is the region packed
full of breath taking scenery, it also has a lot to offer to history
buffs/enthusiasts with several battles occurring in the region.
Time flew by while roaming around admiring the views so we
got back to the check in a little later than anticipated. It was getting dark
but I still came across a few familiar faces that evening that also travelled
several hours to be part of the experience. Stand up paddle boards, outrigger
canoes, and surf skis lined the shoreline and the steps going up to the giant
race tent.
When the morning of the race arrived, hundreds of people
were scurrying around, getting gear together and attached to their boards and
boats. The race was split into two heats with the first consisting of sea
kayaks and stand up paddle boards. Most races I’ve been to involved a few
paddle boards at most. Here, boats were clearly the minority. I believe the
standup paddle boards outnumbered the boats 300 to 100 so it was a sight to see
so many paddlers from all branches of interested congregated in one place. The
start of heat one was like watching the doors open to a major chain store on
Black Friday. The standup paddlers spread out quickly as they started forming a
line going down the gorge with kayakers intertwined between them.
The second heat which I was part of consisted of outrigger
canoes and surf skis. Going into the race, I knew there would be some fast
paddlers. When the starting shot went off, surf skis pulled away from some of
us as if we were standing still. It didn’t take but a couple miles for some of
the surf skis to be out of sight with several other boats reaching the
vanishing point as well. I held my position two thirds of the way into the race
catching and passing several that started in the first heat. I heard rumors
that catching the mob of standup paddlers was a sight to see…a zombie
apocalypse on the water is how it was described to me. There was no end to them….I
passed one, then another, a dozen more but more and more of them were coming
into view. While passing several folks on boards, a couple familiar faces, Doug
Robinett and Gerry Mitchell caught up to me. We held together as a group for a
while until Doug pulled away from Gerry and me. We were then rejoined by a
couple surf ski paddlers that had pulled off to the side briefly. I chatted
with them momentarily until they regained their momentum and started pulling
away with Gerry to try and catch up to Doug. This was a race that felt like
nothing I had done prior to the event. Despite it being a river, there was no
current or waves to help carry one closer to the finish line. Despite getting
tired thinking the finish line was closer than it was, I kept pushing myself. Once
I reached the last bend, I started pushing myself more. I then made the mistake
of cutting towards the inside edge following a paddleboard. I ended up hooking
what felt like an anchor of weeds onto my rudder drastically slowing me down.
After wobbling the boat and zig zagging a bit, I finally felt the resistance
vanish allowing me to pick up my pace again. I still had a couple boats in my
view so I started to try and catch them. I closed the gap down to them being a
couple minutes ahead of me as I neared the finish line. The last 200 yards of
the race was set up as a sprint zone. Once I hit the start line of the sprint
zone, I gave it everything barely being able to push my arms any harder to
cross the finish line. Despite finishing 15th, apparently I had one
of the quicker final sprint times which was a great feeling on top of adding
the completion of another race to my surfski/kayak adventures.
After the race, I learned more about some of the folks I
raced against. I knew of them were very
well known paddlers but even the other names I had not heard were amongst some
of the top paddlers on the east and southeast coast. It was great meeting those
individuals and realizing how much difference there is between those of us used
to racing 50-340 miles in how we train compared to those accustomed to races 30
miles and under. The best comparison between those of us used to longer races
to those doing shorter races is like racing against clones of Mike Herbert. Despite
the intimidation, it proved to show how much more there is to learn and how
much more I can grow within the sport.
