Chattajack 2015

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 15^th, 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.