Coromandel Classic Race - 23/24 August
The Coro classic was a game of 2 days.
Day 1 - Saturday
The calm before the storm. The storm was taking its time to arrive and Saturday turned out to be a perfect day for multisport, with patchy clouds, very light winds and calm rivers. The boys (Rodney and Mark) that I had teamed up with, were Lawyers from Thames, so we all had dinner together after the Race Briefing and I crashed on Mark's couch. Beacuse of the logistics I got to sleep in and Rodney took Mark to the start, before picking me up and heading to the start of the run. This was where I was to get my first taste of the madness of a "multisport transition". Coming from the highly organised world of triathlon where rubber bands are used to get the pedal alignment exactly horizontal, athletes pace out the meters to the exact row/column of there gps located bike. And then they get to a multisport transition, where there is no transition, just a whole buch of random friends shouting at befuddled athletes, and people falling over people, and the unmistakely funny sight of a panicing athlete who is screaming to try and find there support crew, who are probably standing right next to them, but just were listening. Hilarious. Occasionally amogst the chaos you do see some form of oraganisation, usually the people who pull at seat under an athlete just before they collapse (to which you might see a Boxing trainer do to his athlete after 10 rounds with Mohammed Ali), a uicking change of shoes and being forcefed some pureed substance, before charging out again.
So, Mark came along a few minutes slower than his time last year, but still well in the main bunch. He handed the baton over to Rodney, who took off like a rocket, and said he was in good form and looking to shave a few minutes of last years time.
We had to wait for the tailend charlie before leaving, and made our way back to base in Thames for a quick bite to eat and change of cars (with my kayak). In retrospect, this was a mistake, and both of us underestimated both how fast Rodney was, and how much time we wasted during our 'transition'. A stop off for some necessary fuel on the way and we were running a bit late.
At the kayak start parking was at a premium so I had to park up the road a bit, and carry my kayak over the highway. And then just after I had taken the straps off, and had my gear on, Rodney cames blasting out of the Run exit and starts shouting at us "Bloody Hell - Hurry up". Mad panic ensuses and a race official lends a hand carrying my bost down to the river as I finish up dressing myself, and I jump into the kayak. Not having time to run through the 'kayak entry' routine, I get pushed into the river before I have a paddle and have the skirt down up, before screaming at somebody to wait a second. I gather my composure (like I had any), and begin my first race in a complete fluster.
I had been warned about the Grade II rapid at the very start of the kayak, but after 5 minutes of dread I realised that the first 20m was what they were talking about. Beding a complete beginner I have to say that was the saddest excuse for "Rapid" if I didnt even notice it.
So now I was in a race! I was in my flash ne kayak, with a paddle I would later find was totally ill suited to me but I was in a race, and I was as happy as Larry. But 10minutes later someone passed me, and that would be the tone of the rest of the day for me. After 30mins I was totally shot. I had nothing left, but I knew I had to keep going no matter what. I decided to pick up my spirits by having a drink and something to eat. This almost proved a deadly mistake, as I found out just how difficult it is to take both hands "of the wheel" and not tip straight out of your boat. Not wanting to be the only one to fall out, I found a quite mangrove to pull up alongside and then attempt to refuel. A sesnsible idea, and I made a note to try and think about how to refuel withou stopping for future racing. I had heard about people taping bars to their paddle and ripping them off with there bare teeth and thought how ridiculously over the top that was. Now I was thinking that these people were smarter than they looked.
After about 90mintes, which felt like 10 hours I made my way through the Whitianga channel and beached up at the finish to tage Mark. I just about fell out of my boat through tiredness. I noticed that even after 5 minutes, I wasnt even slightly physically tired, it's just that my arms were completely stuffed. I had read what this translates into - Poor Technique. But you have to start seomwhere, and I had made it to the finish unscathed, albeit a tad slow.
Day 2 - Sunday
I woke up in Tairua on the cliff tops and looked outside the window and witnessed the power of nature absolutely pounding the coast. There were white caps out on the ocean as far as I could see and the weather report had a NorthEasterly of 200km/hr at sea and 70-80km/hr in the harbour. Mother nature had decided to unleash the fury upon us. It was so bad we had convinced ourselves the race would be cancelled. But we decided to pack up our gear and head down the to race start anyway. We arrived 10 minutes before the scheduled start, and saw a few kayaks on the ground but most still sitting on the roofs of cars. There was nobody in the water. It must be cancelled. So we just waited for the cancellation message, but it never came and slowly one by one some kayakers attempted to get into their kayaks. The more experienced ones went first and faced into the wind and paddled against the 70km/hr wind and barely moved forward. Thankfully the race was SouthWest (downwind) and I scampered to get in when there was a 2minute warning. Another not to remember is that non kayakers dot realise how much time it takes to get ready, even when your in a massive hurry, so I think next time I will allow plenty of time myself to organise my gear to avoid the stress of being rushed at the last minute. I barely had the time to put my shoes on and paddle into some water and turn around before the gun went off. With a massive tailwind, the field screamed down the first few kilometres. Because of the low tide, then there were many sand banks visible and avoiding them was difficult. I knew the harbour reasonably well so went left to find the deeper water but with my boat at 90degreens I got blown sideways onto a sand bank before I reached the channel. So I had to portage (carry) my kayak 200m over the bank to rejoin the channel. It was during this time that I uttered some aweful words and phrases that I will repeat to no man (or woman) until I am on my deathbed. Such was the deepest low of misery that I had reached. And then to try and cheer myself up, and let out the customary scream to mother nature - "Is that all you've got!". Nobody heard my screams - and they were only 50 meteres away.
After reaching the start of the river ww were afforded some shelter but it was had work. It was an extra 4km from yesterday, and after about 2 hours of paddling I got to within 1km of the finish. It had been seom of the most miserable sporting hours in my life I admit, but it was Character Building as they say.
Upon seeing the exit I threw my paddle ashore and jumped out clumsily but I couldn't care. The kayaking was over. One of the officials looked at me and asked if I was OK. I said nothing but the look on my face must have given it away. There was a smaller matter of a 50m portage, and a 100m run through a paddock, and becuase I didnt have time at the start to put my shoes on properly, my middle toe had been bent at 90degrees for over 2 hours and now was quite painful to run on. After ignoring this and running through the mud aand rain to the handover point I threw the baton at Mark, and then fell to the ground as I tried to rip my kayak shoes off to alleviate the pain in my toes. I remember someone giving me a snide question about whether I enjoyed it. I didnt even respond cause I probably would have chewed there head off.
But I was now finished and spent another 10 minutes in the rain packing up my kayak before hopping into my car and turning the heaters on full to get me in a
better mood. It helped a bit, but looking back I didnt really enjoy the day.Mark managed to finish the bike leg despite some shocking conditions with high winds and slippery roads and hand over to Rodney again. When wew arrived in Whangamata the race organisers advised us that the ford crossings on the ran had turned into full blown rivers, and were impssible, so the last bike leg was cancelled. Instead the runners would head up to the ford (river) and then run back to whanamata for the shortened course and the finish line. It rained all the way and Rodney appeard back in good time, before clocking us in, and we called it a day.
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