With the start of the new year, we wanted to take a moment to update everyone in the NYO family on our accomplishments in 2012.  During this past year, NYO’s outreach efforts put a record number of New Yorkers on the water, while also working to broaden the demographic we serve. Our training programs ran hundreds of practices throughout the season, and our race crews earned second place in the East Coast Outrigger Racing Association.  Additionally, through the work of our dedicated race organizers and amazing volunteer members, we dramatically increased the exposure of our premier event, the Hawaiian Airlines Liberty Challenge, which highlights the successful revitalization of New York City’s waterfront.

Outreach:

As a not-for-profit organization, our mission is to educate New Yorkers about the culture and sport of outrigger canoe paddling by providing opportunities to experience New York’s waterways. In 2012 our outreach efforts reached a record number of New Yorkers:

• Our free Novice program put 373 New Yorkers on the water
• NYO’s Growth program provided an additional 364 seats to mentor new paddlers by teaching them the necessary boat skills and safety procedures to properly navigate the city’s waterways
• Our all-volunteer organization continued its steady growth, increasing our membership by 10%
• We increased our nonprofit partnerships this year through providing programs for a number of different organizations and events.
• NYO expanded into stand up paddling with the purchase of several SUP boards and the expectation of developing stand up paddling programs in 2013

2012 was an incredible year for our outreach initiatives, which was only possible because of the amazing work of our members.  A big thank you to the NYO family for giving your time and energy this season to get other New Yorkers out on the water!

Training and Development:

In addition to our outreach programs, NYO also fulfills its educational mission by providing training and mentorship opportunities through recreational and race related practices. These practices afford numerous opportunities for New Yorkers to get on the water and build upon our outreach programs. As a result of our mentoring programs, NYO is now overwhelmingly composed of New Yorkers who learned to paddle an outrigger canoe at Pier 66. And for many of them, NYO was their first exposure to the Hudson River.

In 2012, NYO offered 583 practices and participated in races throughout the East Coast, taking second place in the East Coast Outrigger Racing association. In addition to regional races, NYO members also participated in the International Va’a Federation World Sprints in Calgary, the Treasure Island Classic in Florida, and the Moloka’i Hoe in Hawaii. In 2013, NYO plans to participate in races in California, Hawaii and Hong Kong, thereby increasing the international awareness of New York City watersports.

A special note of appreciation goes out to our 2012 coaching staff: Keith Tsang, Emily Harris, Jason Ng, Ed Acker, and our race coordinator Will Chang.  Your numerous hours spent preparing for, and organizing, practices helped develop our paddling abilities and elevated the expectations our paddlers have for themselves and their teammates.  Thank you!

The Hawaiian Airlines Liberty Challenge:

This year NYO members worked diligently to continue the great tradition of our premier event, the Hawaiian Airlines Liberty Challenge. 2012 also brought the start of a new partnership with Hawaiian Airlines, who became the title sponsor of our regatta.  While Liberty consistently draws competitors from around the world, 2012 marked the first year where the majority of race participants were not from the East Coast. Among the world’s major outrigger regattas, Liberty is the only one where non-regional teams comprise the majority of participants, making it a truly international event.

The Hawaiian Airlines Liberty Challenge also increased its exposure this year through a focused social media campaign on Facebook and Twitter. The social media groundswell helped Liberty land the cover of the August issue of Pacific Paddler magazine and an episode of Ocean Paddler TV.  Our media success was the direct result of our excellent web development team: Alla Gringaus (allagringaus.com) and Elena Gartshtein (elenagart.com).  Thank you so much for your incredible guidance and superhuman efforts this past year!

While our Liberty team consistently organizes an excellent race, we were especially proud of the work we did this year to expand the regatta – an achievement that was only possible because of the amazing work of our volunteer membership.  Thank you so much to all of you who invested your time and effort to make the 2012 Hawaiian Airlines Liberty Challenge such a success!  And a special thank you to race organizers: Carol Choi, Keith Tsang, Lauren Decker, Di Eckerle, and race director Ed Acker.  Your countless hours behind the scenes make this amazing event possible.

2013 and Beyond:

As NYO continues to grow, we hope to expand our outreach initiatives, thereby allowing even more New Yorkers to experience our city’s amazing harbor and rivers.  Along with increasing our outreach programs, we hope to target segments of the community who have historically found it difficult to access the city’s waterways. In an effort to reach underserved portions of the community, NYO has created the John Krevey Paddler Grant. The grant provides membership in NYO and covers all expenses associated with the East Coast Outrigger Racing Association and related races. Through providing free sessions and mentorship opportunities, we hope our outreach programs will develop individual commitment to our waterfront across a broad spectrum of the community.

Finally, we wanted to say how much we appreciated the volunteer efforts of so many of our members in the wake of Hurricane Sandy.  Not only did you work tirelessly at the boathouse, but many of you gave of your time and muscle to help our extended ohana on Staten Island.  It is this amazing sense of community and giving that makes NYO such a special group.  Thank you so much.

Looking forward to another amazing season and all the best to you and your families.

Hau’oli Makahiki Hou,

NYO Executive Committee

Mark, Keith, Jason, Keizo, Colin, Brent, Jesse, Larry, Will and Jamie at the finish of the 2012 Moloka’i Hoe

Fog rolled off Jamaica Bay and washed over the runway as we waited to board our Hawaiian Airlines flight to Honolulu. It was the first week in October and a decidedly cold fall day for New York City. As we sat in the terminal waiting for our flight to board, the collection of shorts, tee shirts and slippers worn by the passengers at our gate dramatically contrasted with the coats and dark colors of passengers on other flights. Even amongst the giddy Hawaii bound passengers, the excitement of our paddling crew stood out.  With big grins and the buzz of a new adventure, our guys discussed the upcoming days.  After months of training – and nearly a year of planning – we were on our way to compete in the most famous outrigger race in the world: the Moloka’i Hoe.

In the world of outrigger paddling, the Moloka’i Hoe stands out as the race by which all others are judged. In the last decade new races have emerged demanding greater lengths, but no race draws as large and diverse a field of international paddlers as Moloka’i. With over six decades of history, the annual event is a hallmark in the outrigger racing community. But the concept of a race between the islands of Moloka’i and O’ahu was originally dismissed as too dangerous. At a distance of over 40 miles, the race requires crews to paddle in open ocean conditions in what can often be an unforgiving channel. The course takes paddlers across the Kaiwi channel, known as one of the deepest and most treacherous in the Hawaiian chain. The conditions themselves, while reasonably consistent, are no sure thing and crews will often see the ocean change several times over the course of the race. In a long distance race with a changing environment, a crew’s preparedness is crucial. For our crew from New York, training meant weekends in eastern Long Island chasing Atlantic storm swell and 25 mile paddles from the town of Sag Harbor to Southampton. The crew knew there was no way to mirror the conditions we would see in the middle of the Pacific, but we did our best to get into as much trouble as the East Coast summer would provide.

As our flight touched down on O’ahu, our Moloka’i Hoe experience began to take on a new dimension. After months of training for the unknown, the only thing left for us to do was have fun and rest up for the race ahead. Our first few days in Hawaii were spent relaxing, eating everything imaginable (it’s called carbo-loading, don’t judge) and paddling with our wonderful hosts at Waikiki Yacht Club.

After relaxing for a couple days on O’ahu it was time to head over to Moloka’i. On the flight over we got our first view of the Kaiwi channel and a chance to see what all the weathermen had been predicting for days: a glassy blue ocean devoid of any groundswell or windy whitecaps. After months of working on our surfing technique and practicing rough water changes, the site of a placid ocean was a disappointment for some on our crew, but that feeling of melancholy quickly evaporated as we began to spot white bursts all across the ocean – not from windswell, but from the 100+ motorboats headed over to Molokai for the race. For those who had never done the race before, it was their first exposure to the awe-inspiring scale of the event.

Upon arriving on “the friendly isle,” we set off for the race site to rig our canoe and meet up with our escort boat driver, Holo. As usual, it was impossible to avoid the sun or red dirt at Hale o Lono harbor, but everyone was energized by the activity of the race site, and for most of our crew it was the first time they had seen a collection of 100 canoes gathered in one place. After rigging we headed to our hotel for dinner, where our coach, Sara, ran us through what to expect the following day. With two decades of coaching experience, Sara was one of the incredibly talented local folks who had agreed to be on our team – the others being Keizo, our steersman, and Holo, our boat driver. Undeservedly, we had somehow convinced a stellar group of local friends (and one reality TV celebrity from LA - Jason’s sister, Jamie – who was a-ma-zing on the escort boat) to be part of our crew. Sara, Holo, Keizo and Jamie used their knowledge and experience to push us as a crew, which made the race experience much more rewarding.  But before we could race the next day, we needed to retire to our rooms for a night’s sleep that was, for most of the excited crew, less-than-fantastic.

The next morning we woke before dawn and piled into our rental cars.  A blanket of starlight illuminated the road in front of us as we made our way through rolling ranch-land pastures to the race site.  A few miles from Hale o Lono harbor we traded the pavement for a dirt road, just has we had the day before.  But unlike the previous day, we now found ourselves in a caravan of cars headed for the site.  As we slowly snaked down the dirt lane, the motorcade sent clouds of red dust ten feet in the air, temporarily blinding us at points and casting a red hue on the morning sun.

After reaching the harbor and the pre-race blessing ceremony, we worked our way through the field of canoes to launch our boat.  Unlike the women’s Na Wahine race two weeks earlier, the harbor mouth was calm with no breaking waves to navigate.  With calm water in front of them, our starting six paddled their way to the start line, while the remainder of the crew met up with Holo at the east end of the harbor.  After an unexpected rolling start, the canoes were off and headed for O’ahu.  With calm seas, the expectation was that the bulk of the pack would stay close to La’au Point, opting for a direct line across the channel to O’ahu.  Instead, a favorable current took many of the canoes south, our boat included.

Once the escort boats were released to find their crews, we searched the northern portion of the pack for our orange and blue canoe.  This is by far the most intense portion of the race, and one that requires an experienced hand at the motorboat wheel.  Imagine this point in the race as an Easter egg hunt, spread out over miles of ocean, with canoes and motorboats everywhere, and paddlers heads bobbing in the water as crews make their first change.  The opportunities for something to go wrong are great, and experience and caution make all the difference.  After twenty minutes of searching and mistakenly spotting the other orange and blue Waikiki Yacht Club boat, our crew was finally spotted by a helicopter crew, allowing us the opportunity to make a belated, but much appreciated, first change.

With our canoe and motorboat reunited, the crew settled in for the channel crossing.  As an east coast crew we were accustom to long distance races and experienced at pacing ourselves.  Quickly noticing our mistake in lowering our pace, Sara told us to up our stroke rate, explaining that this was, “not the Molokai Crossing but the Molokai Race!”  Unlike our typical east coast distance races where we find our rhythm, the Moloka’i Hoe is a sprint race where paddlers cycle in and out of the boat on set intervals.  When we were in the boat, our only goal was to go all out until the next change.  To think of the race in its entirety would be a mistake, as it is really a series of short sprints strung together in a chain across the channel.  Through the Kaiwi we maintained our intervals of sprint and rest, sprint and rest.  When the sun beat down and the canoe began to lag, Sara and Jamie loudly let us know to pick up the pace, and the boat would jump forward with renewed focus.

As we reached O’ahu the crew had cycled through the canoe numerous times, but our steersman, Keizo, had never left his seat.  On such a flat day, the role of steersman was more paddler than anything else, and Keizo’s determination to iron the whole race made clear to the rest of us that there was no place for whining about our soreness or fatigue.  While the canoe worked its way down the south shore of O’ahu past the neighborhoods of Nui Valley and ‘Aina Haina, Sara and Holo debated the strategy of cutting inside the break at Blackpoint and Diamond Head, or heading outside to the open ocean.  Before asking Keizo his plan, Sara presciently predicted his choice, “He’s heading inside” she said, and those of us in the escort boat prepared ourselves for the tough paddle ahead.  For once inside the surf, any crew changes would be risky and the decision was made that the group in the canoe would have to iron through until we reached the calm waters of Waikiki.

As we rounded Diamond Head and entered Waikiki, we suddenly found ourselves alongside the other orange and blue Waikiki Yacht Club crew.  As she did with numerous boats throughout the race, Sara made clear that their canoe was the rabbit and we were to focus on overtaking them.  The remaining few miles were a sprint to the finish, with each paddler in our canoe fighting fatigue and exhaustion to keep up the intensity.  As we reached the finish off Duke Kahanamoku beach, the race officials announced the names of our crew.  With our canoe coasting to shore and the announcer reading out the next crew’s names, our exhaustion washed away and was replaced with a pure sense of accomplishment.  After 41 miles and nearly seven hours, we had crossed the channel between the islands of Moloka’i and O’ahu.

New York Outrigger was honored to take part in the 2012 Moloka’i Hoe. Anytime we can paddle in Hawai’i it is a special experience, but to participate in a race with such history, tradition and competitive athletes is truly thrilling.  We went to Hawai’i with the goal of competing, but more importantly we wanted to be a part of the amazing international community of paddlers this race brings to the islands.

For a crew from New York, competing in Hawai’i would be impossible without the kokua of old friends and the incredible generosity of new ones. With Sara McKay Hines and Jamie Graetz coaching us, Keizo Gates steering our canoe, Waikiki Yacht Club generously loaning us a boat, and our good friend Richard Holomalia escorting us across, we knew we would have an amazing experience. And we did.  It is that spirit of aloha and generosity embodied in the people of Hawai’i that truly makes the Moloka’i Hoe such a special race, and one we hope to be fortunate enough to compete in for years to come.

Epic Competition on Cape Anne

by Roger Crossland.

I keep a calendar of summer outrigger races. You can’t have races sneaking up on you.  This year, the much vaunted Philadelphia race was cancelled and I suddenly found I had eight weeks to train for the Blackburn Challenge.  The Blackburn doesn’t sneak up on you.  It is the longest toughest open water race on the East Coast.  The Blackburn comes at you frontally, with numerous warnings, whistle blowings, flashing lights, and chews you up like a tug pushing a coal barge that you can’t evade.

The Hooked Line

The Blackburn is a 21 mile race around the diamond-shaped Cape Ann which starts and finishes in Gloucester.  All man-powered boats are welcome. This is a muscle-power or “Swedish steam” race.  In the 19th Century a large part of the seafaring population came from northern Europe.  Swedish steam, muscle-power,  came cheap and the term became part of Yankee vocabulary  At each Blackburn Challenge, the race staging area at the Gloucester’s high school looks as if Noah’s Ark has just capsized and its cargo has washed up on Massachusetts’s Cape Ann.  Instead of two of everything, however, there are a dozen or more of everything.

There is a quotation with currency among boxers, “If you can’t get in shape for a bout in six weeks, you can’t get in shape for anything.”  Well most boxers are at their prime in their early thirties so perhaps they can be ignored.  I’m an American baby boomer twice about twice that  baby boomers constitute a disproportionately large number of all recreational competition for at least another decade.  They were raised in an competitive environment and they simply cannot stop competing.  Eight weeks, eight weeks should be more than enough to prepare for one of the East’s premier Swedish steam races.

I set my internet weather watch for Gloucester and watched Gloucester conditions daily.  I paddle every other day gradually lengthening the distances.  I study my gear.  I study my boat.  What  item can fail me?  What item have I forgotten?

I watch the wind patterns.  I watch the current patterns.  I watch the swell patterns.

This will be my fifth Blackburn.  I’ve done the Blackburn four times already, three in an “outrigger canoe six” and last year in an “outrigger canoe, single.”  I like Gloucester.  I get a sense of renewal going to Gloucester.  My ancestors were a part in its history for almost two centuries, testimony to the power of codfishing..

The Blackburn Challenge openly publishes a list of its current registrants until a week before the race.  I studied the list under “outrigger canoe, single.”  You can learn a good deal from that list if you study it until your eyes cease to focus.

Last’s year list was daunting.  The field was filled with hollow-cheeked men of portent with the musculature of braided whipcord.  There was “the Russian” (I suspect he is really Ukrainian) who rarely lost a race on the East Coast.   There was the Hawaiian high roller that bought a boat in Hawaii, had it shipped to Gloucester for the race, raced, and sold it that same day at auction so he didn’t have to ship it back.  There was the eight foot tall naval architect with his own boat building business in San Francisco who had been a first rate crew oarsman and now had designed a lime green “outrigger canoe, single” prototype that he planned to put on the market.  There was Floridian whom I imagined wrestled “gators who slogged northward through several thousand miles through several miles of swamp for the race with the added motivation of selling his catch.  You don’t travel a distance like that unless you plan to bring home gold.  And then there was “Ragnar,” my own personal nemesis.  Ragnar (not his real name) was about my age who came from a broad boating and seafaring background much like my own.  Worse still, Ragnar is a writer, still another trait worthy of suspicion.  Last year I kept a special eye on Ragnar.  I’ve always felt in competition it was important to keep it human, and that required a personal yardstick.  I did the 41 mile Molokai to Oahu Race with a 9-man outrigger team.  About 115 boats entered the Molokai that year.  Trying to take in 115 teams is too much to process.  We focused on beating the Vladivostok Tigers alone, and we did.  Psychologically, it would have been too hard to beat all 115 other teams.  Instead we focused on one team, one worthy rival.  Well, Blackburn typically registers double the number of boats Molokai does.

My last Blackburn did not go well.  My hydration system shifted, came apart, and eventually fell out of the boat at mile 13 (though it did stay attached to me).  I experienced cramps in my hips that were either the result of an improper mixing of electrolytes in my water, or the fact that the boat simply did not fit my body properly.  This year I’d no better what to expect.

Last year, the Russian, the Hawaiian high roller, the eight foot tall San Francisco boatbuilder, and Ragnar, crossed under the Greasy Pole before me.  The Florida gator wrestler didn’t.  He came in behind me.  I suspect he’d experienced a similar equipment malfunction.

This year I designed a different hydration mounting system and bought a new boat.

The design-gods in Waikiki who produce the “outrigger canoe, single,” or OC-1, focus on speed.  They make no concessions to practicality.  It is sleek, carbon-fiber, and light.  Few OC-1s  provide stowage compartments, cleats, or deck-mounting for hydration,  lifejackets, compasses or GPS.  Hawaiians scoff at lifejackets.  What? Can’t you swim?  If the competition-gods had intended you to have these things in addition to a paddle, they would have…  Most Hawaiians swim as easily as the walk and view the sea as a gentle friend.

The rule-gods in Gloucester require you have a lifejacket and a GPS or compass.   Hawaiian races are either shorter than the Blackburn or they are supported by escort boats so if you run out of water, someone will toss you a hydration bladder.  Fog is not common in Hawaii.  My first Blackburn, the Coast Guard turned the race back at the Annisquam Harbor Light.  My second Blackburn we had 150 foot visibility for the first ten miles.

In any event, this year I am better prepared.  I constructed a bomb-proof hydration mounting system that could carry two litres of water.  It was a work of art and I would be happy to send drawings and photos to readers who send a self-addressed envelope. I would varnish my hydration mounting system and may turn it into a coffee table if my wife would let me. It is a work of art composed of ample applications of velcro, polyethelene macramé cord, rubber washers, bungee line, rubber washers,  clear 3/8” vinyl tubing, and contact cement.  No duct tape here, this was the work of a professional.

I have a new boat and this one “fits” right.   My new boat is orange so I named it Grandmarnier after a high octane form of orange juice. I value its orange color.   Idle-rich powerboat operators in Long Island Sound, where I practice,  are inclined to investigate strange asymmetric smallcraft.  The color orange keeps them at a safe distance.  It seems official, almost governmental, and broadcasts the message “danger.” The danger is, of course, that of powerboats to me, not me to powerboats, but they don’t know that.

All boats are trade-offs.  If you get one thing, you sacrifice something else.  OC-1s divide into two categories, flatwater and surfing boats.  Grandmarnier is a surfing boat. All boats have hull speeds. Each boat has its own particular hull speed.  Hull speed is a sort of red line demarcation of maximum efficiency.  Once the boat reaches its hull speed, its ability to achieve greater speed diminishes.   Up to its hull speed, one unit of exertion gets it one comparable unit of speed.  After hull speed is reached, it takes multiple units of exertion to get one additional unit of speed.  Surfing OC-1s can defy that general rule if they begin to plane.  In essence a planing OC-1 gets a second, faster, hull speed. 

Flatwater boats can plane a bit, but they are designed to surf wholesale. With a surfing boat you can experience the joy of achieving Star Trek’s “warp speed,” if all the planets are in alignment.  Warp speed is relative, some boatmen who can achieve greater gradiations of warp speed than others, but warp speed is preferable to plodding speed.  As we know from science fiction shows and movies, once you hit warp speed stars that are normally dots become long straight white lines.

A surfing OC-1 doesn’t need six foot waves, just a tailwind and waves in the six inch to one foot range.  The trouble is the prevailing winds on Cape Ann are squarely westerly and nowhere does the Blackburn Challenge course run squarely west-to-east.

Watching the daily weather reports I noticed that from time to time – occasionally -  the Cape Ann winds came out of the Northwest or out of the southwest.  A northwest wind would give my boat an distinct advantage.  A Southwest wind on the other hand would be an impediment to all boats in the last half of the race.

I have mentioned Ragnar. Ragnar is my nemesis.  Last year he challenged me at the start, he held with me to the the Annisquam Harbor Lighthouse and then fell away.  He picked me up again at Halibut Point (the quarter mark) and passed me.  After the halfway mark, Straitsmouth, he’d swerved closer to shore and I’d thought I’d passed him on this shorter,  straighter course, but no, he finished two ahead of me.  Ragnar paddles a sinister black, flatwater boat.  I have concluded on the basis of this observation alone that his boat is as black and sinister as his heart.  On that basis, I resolved to beat that boat at the Blackburn.  Mind you, I think his heart is black and sinister, but we’ve never actually exchanged so much as a greeting.  It is enough that he finished two ahead of me last year.

Casting the Line

Race day.  The race starts just beyond the railroad bridge on the Annisquam River. The groups go out by racing class after racing class at 5 minute intervals.  Attendance is taken for each class, the boats are lined up abreast and then an official with stopwatch in hand gives the starting command.  Three OC-1s take a very early lead.  I swear the Russian leaves the line with a puff of smoke.  Immediately, I find myself hemmed in between an OC-1 from Montreal beautifully painted like a coral snake and Ragnar’s black, flatwater OC-1.  I sprint with my best strokes, shaft vertical, keeping the draw portion of my stroke as straight possible, and I start moving ahead of both boats. My GPS tells me I’m moving well. The Annisquam River winds toward Ipswich Bay like a mountain switchback. By the Annisquam Harbor Lighthouse I can’t see a single OC-1 ahead of me or to my sides.  Philosophically, I never ever look back.

We start passing the centipede-like oar-driven gigs and slow and lonely stand-up paddleboards.   It is a high rocky coast.  The next significant landmark is Halibut Point, half-way to the half-way mark.

The Chart

Blackburn racers received a shirt this year with a chart on its back.  The chart provides editorial remarks.  “Folly Cove” rates the parenthetical notation “(coincidence?)”  Personally I would have footnoted, “Abandon all hope, ye who pass Folly Cove.”  The chart on the shirt further labels the most northerly jetty as “Halibut Point of no return.” Since it is only the quarter-way mark as a “point of no return” it overstates its significance. What it really signifies is that you can return to the starting line claiming equipment failure, and you can  be believed, possibly.  Surely no one would be overcome by the pain and discomfort so early in the game.  No, any excuse would be accepted as valid if you turn temptingly turn back that soon.

By Halibut Point still no OC-1 has overtaken me.  I’m still fourth for OC-1s. I do find myself overtaken by a swarm of surfskis.  The are a faster class and started after the OC-1s.  They are the largest single class in the race and very organized.  I know many of the leaders from my old kayaking days.

Rounding Andrews Point, I feel a breeze on my back.  The wind is behind me from the Northwest.  It was the one favorable natural condition I’d hoped, a downwind run to Straitsmouth.  Cowabunga! Totally, totally wicked!

It is time to let Grandmarnier, my surfing OC-1, show her stuff.  It is just a breath of wind and the waves are more confused than sequential, but my GPS is telling me we’re surfing delightfully above my first hull speed.  And I can feel it.  I steer straight toward the Thacher Island Twin Lighthouses.  Whee-ha!

At Straitsmouth, the halfway mark, I call out my boat number, “Ninety-five.”  I don’t hear any numbers in the OC-1 sequence called out anywhere near me and I gain confidence from that.  There are no OC-1s nearby.

Up until now the current and wind have been light almost to the point of negligibility.  Now that I’ve turned the corner westward, I will be fighting the wind and current directly and the indirect effect of the swells coming from my left.  My pontoon or “ama” is on my left. Any time my ama is above me I’m uncomfortable. If the ama goes too high I’ll capsize or “huli.”

Once past Loblolly Cove I must make a decision: I can start hugging the coast line, “scalloping,” or I can shoot straight across Long Beach and Good Harbor Beach. It is a trade-off.  Scalloping adds mileage, but it protects you from adverse wind and current.  When I steered outrigger canoe sixes, I always steered straight across.  Outrigger sixes are faster than OC-1s and, adding in the weight of the paddlers, they displace half of a ton. Grandmarnier on the other hand weighs 24 lbs.  I’m feeling giddily confident and see other small boats taking the straight line course. I don’t see any small boats scalloping, but small boats clinging to the coast are hard to see, especially black, sinister ones.

When I’ve passed Milk Island and am even with Good Harbor the forces of nature decide to unleash themselves on the giddily confident. The winds pick up significantly to 10-15 kts gusting to 20 kts, and I feel their full wrath on my gritting teeth. The chop builds and I find myself crawling down to Gloucester.  My hydration system is holding up, adequate and flowing freely.  Grandmarnier has sprouted no leaks, her rudder cables are working fine, and no seaweed is trailing from my rudder. Nonetheless I am crawling westward down the coast at barely half my best rate.  From here on it is like paddling through molasses.

Blackburn generally releases the slowest racing class first, and the fastest class, last.  These fastest boats are OC-6s.  These fastest, boats are now beginning to passing by. Several call out to me as they pass.  I know paddlers on each of the lead three OC-6s.  I have been with them at Blackburn in the past.

I see, and then pass the Eastern Point Light. Still this is not surfing to Straitsmouth.  It is torture. At last I see the tip of East Eastern Point.  All that remains is for me to hug the Dog Bar, a long substantial breakwater, and the climactic fight into Gloucester Harbor.

Landing the Catch

The widely spread boats all start funneling together and a couple hundred yard ahead of me I see two outrigger canoes and they aren’t the three leaders.  Two ahead of me is a black, sinister, flatwater outrigger…Ragnar.  Behind him is some young whippersnapper in a trucker’s hat.  I kick in to overtake them, trying to keep directly behind them to give them the least warning…but I’ve got nothing. Four miles of molasses, current, and strong winds have taken their toll.  Where did they come from?

Gloucester harbor is the worst mile of the race.  It has the highest waves, the most confused chop, cooling wind, and you must endure the sizeable wake of powerboat sailors who regard small boats with disdain.  I never enjoy it, but it is the time to wring out the last bit of energy to cross under the Greasy Pole.

To the left is Dolliver Neck.  I am descended from the Dollivers.  For two centuries my family’s destiny, like that of Howard Blackburn, was controlled by the codfish industries of Gloucester, Massachusetts and Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.  My great – (many greats) – grandmother Ann Higganson Dolliver married a Gloucester Dolliver,  The marriage to wastrel “Captain” William Dolliver was an unhappy one ending in his abandoning her and their four children.  It is said the stress made her unstable.  Eventually she was tried for witchcraft in Salem, which lies not far to the south, during the famed trials.  She raised the novel argument of witchcraft in self-defense, and she was acquitted.

Behind me I can hear girlish giggling. Now what?  It is my club’s women’s team coming up behind me in an outrigger canoe six.  They’ve had a rough transit, too, but call out encouragement.  That encouragement is appreciated.

And there it is, the Greasy Pole and two large inflatable buoys

“Ninety-five,” I call out for a second time.

It is done. Sixth, not fourth.  The Florida ‘gator wrestler comes in far behind me.  I’m going to have to reassess his motivation.

Ragnar has beaten me…by two again.

It is not going to happen next year.  I’m going to channel my great-grandmother.  I can be sinister, too. Two centuries of codfishery leave a mark.  I know the potion. Brew up a codfish stew, a touch of molasses and a jigger of Grandmarnier, add a length of whipcord, heat with a plume of Swedish steam, and stir at warp speed.

Next year in Gloucester.

****

Roger Lee Crossland has been navigating quaint smallcraft by means of Swedish steam for decades.  He is a former men’s racing steersman for New York Outrigger.   He is a retired naval officer with thirty years service, active and reserve and holds a 100 gwt merchant marine captain’s license with auxiliary sail and towing endorsements.

© R. L. Crossland 2012

The Hudson River Park and the Pier 66 Boathouse has been closed until further notice.

There is no access to the boathouse or the dock until the Park deems it safe to do so.

As of this morning’s high tide, the Hudson River was already washing over the seawall by the boathouse. With this evening’s high tide around 9PM coupled with what is expected to be a 6-11 foot storm surge and 40mph winds will make the area around the boathouse extremely dangerous and very likely to flood. Please note that the boathouse is in Zone A which currently has a mandatory evacuation order in place.

The Krevey, Malolo and Pua Pana were moved into the boathouse, unrigged and strapped together. Ahinhina Lapu is currently stowed in Canarsie, Brooklyn. Kikaha in Hampton Bays has been taken off the beach and brought inland and onto higher ground.

Please stay safe. We will give more information as it becomes available on this website as well as through our Facebook and Twitter sites.

New York Outrigger is always looking to meet like-minded people and organizations who are also interested in bringing awareness to our local waterways. We are extremely pleased to have met our neighbors up river at Inwood Canoe Club. What started out as a random encounter on the water has led to a great friendship between two organizations that continues to grow.

In late June, Women’s Coach Keith took his women’s race session group to paddle a long piece to Spuyten Duyvil, a 20-mile round trip paddle to the northern tip of Manhattan in Inwood. While on a break in the Harlem River, a kayaker pulled up alongside us and introduced himself as Kevin from Inwood Canoe Club (ICC) located just around the corner. We talked a little about each of our clubs and casually mentioned we should do a joint OC/Kayak novice session at some point.

A few weeks later, Mark from ICC contacted us to see if we could make the idea a reality. The plan was to paddle our OC6 to Inwood Canoe Club where NYO would conduct novice sessions for ICC members and friends. In return, ICC members gave NYO members a novice session on their kayaks.

Keith and Mark spent several weeks planning out the logistics to make sure the currents were timed correctly, how our canoe will fit on ICC’s dock, who had food allergies, etc. Very little was left to chance.

On Sunday, August 5, NYO members Avis, Suesa, Paige, Mark, Will, Di, Emily and Keith paddled Malolo up the Hudson river to the Inwood Canoe Club Boathouse located just under the Cloisters north of the George Washington Bridge. Established in 1902, they are the oldest canoe club in Manhattan and the only one remaining of what used to be a continuous string of boathouses north of GWB at the turn of the last century. We purposely wanted to be early to paddle by and give a bit of a show for those on the dock to drum up some excitement.

It worked and the excitement levels just built from there. We pulled up to their dock and both NYO and ICC members quickly gathered to figure out how to get Malolo positioned safely. Even with as much planning and visualization we had done in advance, getting Malolo on the dock still took a lot of maneuvering and positioning done on the fly. Once secured, introductions were made. ICC had quite a spread of food for us (which continued to be replenished throughout the day) and they gave us a tour of their boathouse which included racing kayaks and canoes spanning the entire history of their club.

Refueled and oriented, we gave our outrigger land training session to the ICC members gathered. Following that, our NYO group took turns taking out all of the ICC members on the water on short runs. Being experienced kayakers, most everyone picked up the stroke quickly and we were soon surfing wind swells upriver.

Janet from ICC gave us a novice session in the kayaks and we took short trips to the George Washington Bridge and the Harlem River. For NYO members, it was very interesting and exciting to be in an unfamiliar craft as most of us wobbled our way around trying to get familiar with a whole different kind of core rotation.

Once the sessions were complete, everyone gathered on deck and socialized in the cool breeze with homemade smoothies and slices of watermelon. Everyone had a great time and both organizations unanimously agreed that our little joint novice session experiment was a huge success.

On August 25, we invited ICC members to our boathouse on an extended trip to Pier 40 to show them a more urban environment than they were used to just up river. Again, it was great fun to invite each other to our respective boathouses and share in our love of the water.

Now that we are familiar with the logistics and with each other, both our organizations are looking forward to making these regular events open to all of our respective members. Our new partnership will allow NYO members opportunities to kayak around Upper Manhattan and for ICC to join us in our outrigger canoes.

For those who are interested in kayaking on the Hudson River in Upper Manhattan, Inwood Canoe Club hosts Open Houses every Sunday at 10AM between Memorial Day and Labor Day. For more information about that program and the club, please visit their website.

We’re very glad to have made new friends on the Hudson and both of us are looking forward to working together to introduce people to our local waterways.