Levelling [S]UP!
I should probably rewind a few years to explain that, in spite of how ridiculous I might sound so far, watersports (not the urination kind) are not a new thing for me. From an early age, I spent most of the spring and summer waterskiing. I tried to learn to slalom on a wooden 1969 Bruce Cockburn ski that I rebuilt myself and even tried jump skiing, again on broken skis I found (with disastrous consequences to my testicles - but that’s another story). I guess the common theme is actually watersports and not knowing what I am doing? But maybe also a willingness to have a go at pretty much anything.
Anyway, year after the Vapor I had upgraded to the Aqua Marina Magma, which was a far more appropriate board for me. For a start it did not flex under my weight and that made quite the difference. I could pretend that I chose it for some astute technical reasons but that would be a lie. I was drawn to it because it was orange and the octopus motif on the underside looked cool. As luck would have it, it was a great paddleboard for me and the source of many days of amusement.
The board was a 10’10” and a little cheekier on the lateral due to the two inch reduction to what I was used to with the Vapor. I found this gave me a little more speed though to do the thing which I eventually found was the thing that gave me the pleasure: covering distance and exploring the coastline. I’d subsequently discover the word for this was “touring” but so clueless was I, I would never have used this word.
I also upgraded to a carbon fibre teardrop paddle, which was a Crazy Abalone. Again, I chose this for the artwork. Other than looking to reduce weight and get something that looked and felt more credible, I’d again done little in the way of research.
My usual locale was around the Torbay coastline, gradually increasing my distance whilst enthusiastically singing songs from Moana. I’d found my thing and was buzzing with all of the easy-motivation that comes with just clicking with something even though it involves some physical exercion. The performances of Disney music did not improve, but I did find that my confidence and stability on the board did move up a notch and I even ventured to the Isles of Scilly for some island hopping and seal spotting. I’d stood on uninhabited islands and taken tricky currents in my stride. As this point I’m basically an expert, though the best kind of expert: I’m the expert who knows absolutely nothing.
I moved a smidge out of London and intentionally located myself on the Thames with river paddling in my mind. The intention was simple, by flitting between sea and river I’d get the best of both worlds and continue to get the immense feeling of relaxation, satisfaction and mindfulness (or something) whenever I can. The only real amendment was the singing, as of course people actually live on the river and Thames Path hikers do not want to hear my tuneless warbling, but I settled into a good rhythm.
My next board was after I’d discovered the afore mentioned word “touring”. I began some very light research (I had to warm up slowly) and settled on the BlueFin Sprint 14. My thinking on this selection was that I wanted a truck of a board, with a profile that could give me a little more drift and could easily be loaded up with kids (oh yeah - they turned up along the way) or shedloads of gear for my aspirational overnight expedition. This was the generation before Bluefin’s carbon release and I didn’t want to go crazy on cost - just make a marginal iteration on my Magma experience.
The Sprint did not disappoint. I felt like I was ready for anything on it. Just looking at it made me feel like I wanted to chuck a rucksack on my back and cook beans on a camping stove in day old underpants. Not since I’d owned a Mini Cooper back when BMW first rebooted them had I experienced the glib joy of paddling past someone on the same board and doing the “we did good” nod as we drifted by one another. I could carry kids, bags; I think I could probably carry a medium sized skip in the right weather. But I have to acknowledge there are drawbacks too, or perhaps the better term is “trade-offs”?
First and foremost - it’s a bloody lump. I think board, bag and gubbins comes in just over sixteen kilos and it always feels like a lot. Getting it out and deploying is a hell of a lot more of a mission than chucking out the Magma. On reflection, I think the psychology of that has had an impact on how often I paddle. The sheer logistics of getting out there can sometimes be enough to change my mind. Secondly, it sucks up boot space like I do tortilla chips: insatiably and without apparent remorse. And when it comes to portage (another word I eventually learnt; my first guess was something to do with drinkable water?) its all well and good having a board you can load the kitchen sink on but, man alive, the board alone is a bit of a swine on those longer lock routes. You add the luggage that seemed perfectly acceptable and even necessary when you launched and suddenly you’re in broken back territory. Also I often feel its not as fast as it should be either but, because I’m completely clueless with technique, that could be me and it could be the board. Although the benefit of having no knowledge of technique means I could be the best paddleboarder in the world now couldn’t I?
But make no mistake, I have a lot of time for this board. Just looking at it now makes me smirk.
But...
Maybe it's the mid-life crisis nipping at my heels, but I feel like I need a change of approach. As someone who traditionally just does their own thing at their own pace, perhaps it's time to shake things up and take a few falls. I think that means becoming interested in paddleboarding as a thing in order to get more from it rather than just going paddleboarding because I like paddleboarding.
First step is a subscription to supboardermag.com. I'm hoping step two (paddle? board? training?) will make itself known somewhere in their articles. Watch this space.
tf.x
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