Paddling towards Burrewarra Point, a familiar looking paddler and kayak suddenly appears on the horizon. Splashalot has paddled up from Shelley Beach at Moruya Heads to meet us as we paddle south from our home bay, also heading for Shelley Beach, but, unlike Splashalot, Shelley Beach will be our half-way point only.
So far, we have been setting a reasonable pace considering we are caught in a northerly current and a southerly wind. At Burrewarra Point, however, the wind has eased and the rest of the day we paddle over glassy wind conditions with a long rolling swell. The sun slants across the water in quicksilver conditions which makes my queasiness just that little bit worse.
Around the point of Burrewarra, Doug eats half his breakfast while Splashalot and I try to stretch completely while still in the confined space of our kayaks. South from Burrewarra to Moruya Heads is a long, slow grind. I am getting tired, more tired than I should be which I later realise is from not eating, and, we are in a strong northerly current from the Moruya River which is spreading a brown stain of water across the ocean. It is confronting to think about how much soil has been washed out to sea since the 2019/2020 bushfires.
At Moruya Heads, the bar looks surprisingly ugly. The sand bars shift around the bar continually and more so than ever when we keep getting heavy downpours of rain. The swell is almost due easterly and the period is gradually increasing. Under these conditions, the channel, which runs along the breakwater, frequently closes out, and it looks as if it closing out today. Splashalot, however, knows the exact line to take in to land at Shelley Beach without getting collected and we follow him in, paddling hard to make headway against a strong outgoing tide.
It has been nice having company for a quarter of our paddle, but, after a short stretch and food break – unfortunately I am unable to face eating my lunch – Doug and I paddle back out for the return journey. A couple walking the beach stop to chat and then watch us paddle out; they are confronted by the big waves breaking and I am determined to get out without providing them with any free entertainment.
Once out through the heads, the brown stain of freshwater from the Moruya River has been pushed north by the current all the way to Broulee Island and our pace, despite gathering fatigue is good, the current really helps.
At Burrewarra Point, we bounce around in clapotis as usual and I am suddenly so tired. We duck into Guerilla Bay and manage to – just – scrape across the gap between Jimmies Island and the mainland as the tide is very low. Landing on a tiny bit of sand, we get out of the boats, and I drink some tea and eat some food. I try to avoid eating packaged food and too many carbohydrates focusing instead on protein and vegetables but I cannot face the cold chicken thigh I brought and so I eat half a square of dark chocolate and half a protein bar.
Another 10 kilometres to go and the food has helped a lot. Our pace picks up and we are cruising near normal speed, and I am singing to myself half remembered songs to pass the time. A total of 46 kilometres and an honest effort as some of our other long days we have had good wind assist on the way back.
At home, I am pleasantly surprised to find I am not overly fatigued, just stiff from sitting in a kayak for a long time. After some food and stretching, I even have the energy to walk through the forest path behind our house for a couple of kilometres before darkness falls.
A note on training and “fuelling”1: First, fuelling. Dietitians, nutritionists and endurance athletes obsess endlessly about “fuelling” for long days, short days, and recovery days. Every day, in fact. However, even a cursory glance around your local area should be enough to convince you – for many of us a simple glance in the mirror is enough – that most of society is, in fact, over-fuelled/over-fed. This does not mean we have no nutritional deficiencies, but as a whole, in the developed world, we have a surplus of fuel. So I don’t really believe in eating extra, beyond hunger, or changing my nutritional habits to “fuel” activity.
However, after multiple days testing the hypothesis of “eat meat and vegetables when hungry” combined with long and tiring paddle days during which I am queasy with mild sea sickness that destroys my appetite, even I have to admit that I need some kind of food to avoid getting overly fatigued. In my mind, this is very different to consciously shovelling down a ridicously high amount of poor quality calories. In fact, a mere 100 or 300 calories somewhere in the midst of an 8 hour day appears to be enough to improve my energy and facilitate “recovery.” It just turns out that I can no longer tolerate those calories being derived from a hunk of protein. Thus far, I have used a low sugar chocolate or a low carbohydrate protein bar, but I would prefer to eat home-made food (that way I control the ingredients and can avoid industrial seed oils and lashings of weirdly named chemicals). Once our new oven goes into our new kitchen, I will make some home-made energy bars to take.
Which brings me to training, usually not that complicated, but made more challenging by a kitchen renovation which has consumed vast quantities of our time and energy along with cluttering up our house and putting our oven and cook-top out of action. Instead of nicely spaced training days, long paddle days, shorter more intense paddle days, supplementary strength and mobility work, we have had to jam paddles in where they fit the kitchen schedule, and come home from long paddle days and work on the kitchen. Not ideal, but, in the real world nothing is ideal.
Our peak distance so far is 46 kilometres, importantly (at least in my mind) with no wind assist and half against the current. Ideally, I would like to peak with at least one 65 to 70 kilometres day. A big part of training, besides fatigue and injury proofing tendons and muscles, is the mental aspect. It helps to know that you can do what you have to do ahead of time. Especially given that the long days on this trip are crossings between distant islands with nothing to look at but the sea.
I admit that when I think about a 70 kilometre day I shudder a bit in horror. The number is so daunting, almost 30 kilometres longer than our current longest day. However, I try to think that a long crossing is like climbing a mountain, done one paddle stroke or one step at a time.
1Your mileage may vary
No comments:
Post a Comment