“Tail end Charlie” was originally a WW2 British expression referring to the tail gunner in a Lancaster bomber. The Germans called theirs the “tail end pig”. I say call it how it is…

Reading Mark and Wesley’s race accounts was a thrill for me because even though I was also on the results board theirs seemed to be a completely different and much more noble race than my own at the far back of the pack. I would like to thank those who took photographs of all the action that I was not a part of for me to study later.

Home alone one night last week in Montreal I made a decision and grabbed the phone.

“Nathalie”, I said in my most polite and super sweet voice, “After you finish your twelve hour drive home tomorrow night do you mind if we then jump in the car the following morning and drive down to a little surfski race in Rhode Island?”

“Whadaymean a little race”? she growled.

“Well, not exactly little, quite big in fact, all the big names will be there like, ah… Mark who you met in Boston and Wesley and Betsy and that nice chap Corey and a lot of other nice people with really special fast looking watercraft and the sea also. We can touch the sea and feel the sand between our toes and find a starfish and some shells How thrilling will that be?

She eventually agreed to come as long as I stopped talking dribble and bestowed upon her the title of Training Director Princess and bought ice creams upon demand. And so it was. Midday Friday at only four hours past our intended departure time the Training Director Princess and I hit the road with one surf ski on the rack. As I swung out of the drive I mentally ticked off the most important items: Ski, rudder, paddle, passport and credit card for anything I forgot. We were set. This was to be my first surf ski outing on the ocean (enough of this ‘’river’’ business, If it tastes of salt then it is the ocean by golly!). I thought long and hard about borrowing the Training Director Princess’ sea kayak also but thought that if I had a soft option I was bound to use it.

We made a two hour stop over in Vermont to visit the head office of VASA. I had been comparing over the internet their swim, canoe, Nordic ski, kayak erg versus the competitor’s model for about six months and ended up with a great deal on a demonstrator. I was very impressed with the different exercises the VASA erg could do and the owner Bob Sleamaker was a very personable gent who made us a coffee while the paper work was being completed. I also ended up with his prototype swivel K1 style kayak seat at cost price. He assured me that he could recreate the prototype and even improve upon it.

When one has hundreds of kilometres to drive, one has time to reflect on the future. With my Training Director Princess asleep beside me I gripped the steering wheel lovingly like a paddle and with a little rising thrill of adrenaline envisaged the race unfolding something like this… I start a little slow in order to get my sea legs which happens in less than five minutes, after which time I slowly but surely, fighting every inch of the way, move through the field to about mid pack (dreaming of anything more seemed too cocky). In a sprint finish I end up beating most of those with grey hair or less hair than me and most if not all of the fairer sex.

The original plan was to sleep in a campground not far from the start so as to be able to hear any thieving scoundrels brave enough to interfere with my surf ski. However as we got closer to our destination the rain became strong enough to make me pull into a Travel Lodge where I slept with the window open. As an aside, I did the same at my home the other night when I was too lazy to unload the roof rack. I simply put some drinking glasses on the ski seat plus some empty tin cans and a bear bell in the sea kayak. Ingenious warning device or just foolhardy laziness…

The next morning we were both happy to see a good turn out and to personally meet more of the paddlers I had become familiar with through profiles on surfskiracing.com. The first five hundred metres from the gun was what I expected. I hung back a little and got used to the motion of the ocean but when I tried to reel in the field I was utterly dismayed that my reeling in line seemed to have been bitten by a shark.

At half way to the buoy I had about 100m on Cindy McNett also paddling a Think Legend and another hundred meters or so on Sean Milano in his Futura. However, by the turnaround buoy I had been passed by both. I sucked a strawberry and chocolate gel pack, (damn those things are delicious) and after the sugar rush kicked in thought it was only a matter of time until my ‘’into the weather’’ skills reeled back at least Sean… Ha ha. The clock showed that I lost 12 minutes to him on the return leg! Half way as my skin begun to catch fire I learnt that I probably should not have been wearing a wetsuit plus wet shirt plus paddling jacket. I though about quitting and making a discreet phone call to Betsy but was impressed with something I read on the Mayor’s Cup website last year. ‘’The competitor shall find within themselves, the mettle to complete the course’’. So I mettled on. Did anybody per chance see my powerful finish???Once on the open road home with the GPS showing 600 kilometres to go, I reflected on what last place meant:

1.Loneliness for half the race. ‘’I don’t want to be Alone by The BeeGees comes to mind.’’An intense period of depression for at least five minutes when I lost sight of all other competitors.Not being able to find a Huki S1X Special, which I have a crush on, to try at the end due to all toys being packed away when I arrived.All the chicken sandwiches long scoffed by hungry mouths by the time I beached.Having to listen to statements from Nathalie like: ”What were you doing out there?” and “But, but, but on the local river by yourself you look fast!” And, “Wesley was just about to go and find out what had become of you”.

2. A generous lesson in humility and yet more respect for those with grey hair or less hair than me and for the fairer sex.

I also reflected on why I was last:

1. Lack of general conditioning. Dressed for the Arctic Circle. Lack of moving water experience. I really noticed the different muscle movements needed to maintain stability in the wobbly sections .

2. Three piece paddle not marked therefore constantly set up a little differently leading to an initial feeling of sloppiness.

At a few minutes before midnight we arrived home. I bade my Little Legend goodnight, snug in its new permit-less backyard 23 foot by three foot shed. Antoine de Saint-Exupery once wrote, ‘’I fly because it releases my mind from the tyranny of petty things.’’ That is why I paddle, but it would be nice to be able to do it with a little more velocity…