DOWN WIND
I wake up to the beeping of my alarm. I didn’t sleep very well—partly due to the noise of this early winter gale lashing at tree limbs and the metal roofing over my head, at times sending mild shudders through the house. Has my alarm gone off yet? I check my watch: 5:20 am.
I tiptoe down to the kitchen and get some coffee going. As the mocha pot sputters, I check the graphic forecast for wind in our region. It still looks good—winds up to 30 knots, from the southeast, then shifting south and possibly increasing further, not dropping until around noon.
Myself and the crew exchange some brief texts to confirm that we’ll meet at the endpoint of our route, then shuffle people and boards to get 9 of us (plus equipment) loaded into and onto vehicles, and drive the debris-strewn roads to the start of the route.
While struggling into my wetsuit, I eat mouthfuls of food—future energy for paddling and staying warm over the next few hours.
It’s still dark as we load our gear, mask up, and shimmy into a couple cars to drive to our launch spot. On the drive, I’m looking for clues as to how much energy there is in the environment. I can see the tops of fir trees whipping around in the wind, and am pleased that the prediction is paralleling reality.
When we get to our launch spot, 5 miles upwind of the end of the route, we all hustle to get our boards off the vehicles, out of their padded bags, and I struggle into the upper half of my wetsuit. Meanwhile, we’re joking around, helping each other untie boards, looking pensively at the tree tops far above our heads, and stoking each other up for what promises to be a great downwind run.
We make our way to the small pebble beach where we’ll enter the water. Before we all get on the water, we have a brief chat about where and how often we want to regroup, check our total group number, cover basic communication signals, and agree on who will stay close to those with less experience.
Now that we all know the plan, and what to be aware of, we check that our board leashes are securely attached to the boards, and our bodies. To lose contact with one’s board in these conditions would mean a long, energy-consumptive swim, and most likely a bushwhack up to a road, in hopes of finding potential shelter and warmth in a vehicle or house.
Now we’re all on the water, in partial protection of a small, rocky point a hundred yards upwind of us. We get our muscles warmed up on the way to this point, while watching the waist-high wind waves out in the sound proper. It looks good.
The rain is pelting my face like BBs, and my eyes are watering from the wind. At the point, I decide to head out first, and gain a little distance out into the bigger wind and waves by “crabbing” slightly upwind while paddling from my knees on my board to lower my center of gravity. I see a strong gust approaching me, evident in an approaching patch of airborne spray and spindrift. The gust hits me and I don’t fight it, I let it pivot my board such that I am now pointed downwind, towards our endpoint some miles distant. It’s almost full daylight now. I giggle in joy at the fact that we are all out here in this amazing energy, and that we have each other—a small tribe of outdoor enthusiasts, all with a strong connection to, and passion for, the water and the miraculous movement of air which creates waves.
As soon as I’m pointed relatively downwind, I gain my feet on my 14-foot board. As I watch a trough open up in front of me, I put in a few short, strong paddle-strokes. The nose of my board tilts down, and I step back a little towards the tail while I start to accelerate into a surf. Once my board is planing, I keep carving to the right to counteract the push toward shore from the east component of the wind, and I scan right and left for larger sets of waves and deeper troughs.
The wind feels like a giant hand at my back, and the gusts propel me forward with amazing power. At times I can catch a wave, surf down the face, climb up and over the next wave, and end up skipping from wave to wave for amazingly long runs.
Legs burning and lungs expanding for more oxygen, I pop down to straddle my board and wait for us all to re-group. This way we’re never too far from each other should someone encounter any sort of difficulty. Once we’re all together and accounted for, floating like a small raft of sea otters, one of us will start off again, usually with a whoop and a huge smile, propelled by moving air.
Interview With Other Paddler Friends
Interviewed by Matt Nelson
Matt: “What makes for a good downwind route?”
First, a launch location that doesn’t require too much hiking or difficult paddling before you get into the downwind conditions. The run itself should have enough exposure (fetch) to allow for wave development. Paddler James Most says, “Waves coming consistently from one direction are ideal—any size is so much fun. Big waves make for epic surfs, small ones make for energized power-gliding. It’s the cross-chop of waves coming from different directions that can make for a more challenging/difficult time.”
Second, a route that offers an easy “abort” to land. So, shorelines that run parallel to the wind direction are sought. The end of the route ideally lies directly downwind along the paddlers course. Routes that involve exposed crossings, small-target landing areas, high-energy landings (big waves and logs), or offshore winds are much higher-risk, and require increased safety measures—like chase boats and reliable communication devices.
Matt: “How did you get into this aspect of the sport, and what was that like?”
Karl Kruger: “What started as an exercise in abandon and pure joy…has remained so. When my dear friend Matthew Nelson and I started downwind paddling by SUP, it was comical. We had two boards, neither of which was very well-matched to the endeavor. We would trade boards off and on, in the vain hope that a different board might help stop the flailing. We jumped headlong into this new form of play on water. We were both strong paddlers and watermen to begin with, but stepping off shore into storm conditions is humbling for anyone.”
“Gradually, we have gained a level of respectful comfort with paddling in storm conditions. I’d even say that the heavier it gets, the happier we are. I remember crashing every few minutes when we started, while now it is common to stay on plane and in control for miles. Personally, I enjoy a very deep flow state where my brain shuts off, and I can let instinct take over. Subtle shifts in body position and stance, translate to faster speeds and linked waves. Pure bliss…surrounded by foam streaks, breaking waves, and howling winds.”
“Most frequently we paddle south to north in Eastsound near Orcas Island. Southeast winds funnel up the fjord and gain velocity. It is a perfect training ground for bigger ideas. We are working to acquire a small powerboat to access larger waves out in larger bodies of water around the San Juan Islands. During strong westerlies for example, some areas along the Strait of Juan de Fuca can generate 6-8 foot waves. We will have ready access by small boat. Also, in tide rip areas along Haro Strait and Boundary Pass, with wind against current, we will be able to access larger waves, and surf them for miles. With the variety of large bodies of water, plus the component of strong currents and large weather systems, we have a playground on our doorstep.”
“Over the years, we have learned much about board, gear, and paddle design relative to down-winding. We have also gained a tribe. At times, eight or more Orcas Islanders will join Matt and I when the storms come in. Along with the joys and benefits of rowdy weather and water conditions, the community of stoked paddlers it attracts is almost as satisfying.”
Matt: “How do you manage risk/deal with safety while doing this?”
Calvin Croll: “One way we manage risk is by wearing wetsuits, hoods, mitts, and booties. These thick layers of neoprene rubber keep in the warmth our bodies are producing while active. It is pretty amazing how warm you can get when you have a wind-proof layer of insulation all over your body.”
“The other big thing we do to manage risk is stick together. We are constantly counting how many people we can see and making sure no one is dropping too far behind. We set up meeting points where the entire group gets together and checks in before proceeding. That way we can deal with anything as a group (gear issues, trouble paddling, etc). When whoever is in the front stops and the rest of the group starts to gather one by one, there are big smiles all around. Sharing in the experience definitely makes it more enjoyable and safer too.”
Matt: “Why do you get up at the crack of dawn, amidst the cold and dark of December, in the gale-force winds and pouring rain, put on a wetsuit, and go out on the sea on your SUP?”
Leon Somme: “I have a chronic disease that causes constant pain; paddling on a stormy sea is one of my escapes from my condition. It is my mindfulness training, where I have to focus on my attention. When I paddle on a stormy sea, I’m using my whole brain. I taste, smell, hear, see, feel and am proprioceptive to the surroundings. When the wind pushes me onto the face of a wave, my whole being is engaged and immersed with that dynamic, attention-focusing, beautiful sea. I am present only in that moment. I am focused. It is as mindful as it gets. I paddle in storms to be more than alive. This is my cure.”
Shawna Franklin: “As a young child I used to stand with my nose pressed against the screen door so that I could better smell, hear, and see a raging midwestern thunderstorm approach. As the rain started, I was out and running with the screen door banging shut behind me.”
“That inner child is standing on an SUP board now. I am sailing on the sea with the wind pushing my entire body. I also have the feeling of flying. The cold spray is washing my eyes and face and constantly waking me up. I am enthralled with the layers of light and sound. The stormy clouds are reflected on the surface of the sea stretching out in front of me in silver-metallic, undulating ribbons of light. The sound of the wind rages around me and I can shout as loud as I want and the sound of my voice is gone in seconds as if sucked up by a great vacuum. The combination of the exhilarating speed of the wind and waves together with the soft pillowy feel of riding on my board. I am safe. I am warm. I am happy. I am again part of a storm and I know who I am.”
Paddler Brett Bartmasser sums up his feelings about winter downwind paddling in concise perfection: “Shitload of wintertime island fun and camaraderie. And good exercise is a plus!”
Matt: Below are common factors to consider when beginning downwinding on an SUP?
Purchasd equipment: a winter-worthy hooded wetsuit, booties, gloves or mitts, a PFD, board, paddle, and leash
Non-purchased: A good level of fitness. Even with gained proficiency, downwinding is one heck of a total-body workout. As a beginner, it can feel downright exhausting due to the extra energy spent maintaining balance, getting back on the board after falling, and learning technique
Some basic paddling skills, total stability in flat water, and the ability to climb back onto your board and get to your feet multiple times
Familiarity with water-safety, weather, and a realistic assessment of one’s own abilities
Preferably, a partner or two to paddle with. This will increase learning, and will make it safer. When downwinding, go with an experienced person until you have the skills and confidence to plan a route, do a risk assessment, and have the skills to take care of yourself and others on the water. Paddling solo can be rewarding in its intensity and challenge, but comes with much-increased risk, should any injury, equipment breakage, or unforeseen challenge occur.