Gumby Does Maliko

Maliko Gulch in the early morning is a strange place. Rainwater rushes through the creek from rainstorms up the mountain. The gulch smells of horseshit and squashed green things (there’s a ranch up the gulch). As I parked next to the muddy road in some tall grass I could see a swarm of mosquitoes lifting from the damp ground.  I either disturbed them or they smelled blood. Neither alternative was good.

At the ocean end of the gulch I could see big swells pounding on the rocks at the entrance, but there was no wind and no whitecaps. I was in the gulch to do the Maui Canoe and Kayak Club’s Maliko Gultch race, sponsored by Koho’s restaurant. Looked like it was going to be a long morning.

Kiwi (Mark Jackson) was already there, taking pictures and helping other SUP paddlers with their boards. There were lots of canoes, though not in the kind of numbers that turn up for south shore races, and i didn’t see any surfskis. I went up to register and the lady asked me if I’d done Malko runs before. “I went twice last week” was my reply, leaving out fact that those two were my ONLY Maliko runs. Trusting soul, she accepted my entry and they wrote my number on my arm. Not really so the scorers could see it, but so I could remember it.

The plan was to ride Gumby, my new old downwinder board I’d bought from Bill Foote. The night before I tarted it up with some pad extensions made from scrap, and a freshly painted mascot on the nose–Gumby, in big trouble, sketched using Posca pens.

Gumby, in deep doo-doo. A little reminder to help me stay outside of Spartan’s Reef

A little closer shot. I missed a line on the inside of the right leg. Oh, well.

So I felt completely prepared. The conditions looked suitable for a novice like me, not the “victory at sea” stuff I’d endured in my first run. Gumby is a stable and easy board, I’d been practicing in rough water, and I had a new camelback. What could possibly go wrong. Why, oh why did I say that.

Setting up a SUP board to race consists of attaching a leash, taking it off the car and carrying it close to the entry point. So I had some time to kill. I walked around the gultch talking to people. Ekolu Kalama was there. I’ve met him and his delightful wife two times–at the Starboard dealer meeting in Netarts, Oregon, and at the Battle of the Paddle. He’s a talented and engaging guy–fine guitar player and singer, super waterman, and just to piss everyone off he’s also clearly very bright though he seems to work a bit at hiding that.

I found Randy Royce, Slater and Casey Trout, and Mark Raaphorst in the registration line and caught up with them. Then suddenly it was time to get in the water. We were taking off 30 minutes before the canoes started. I hopped onto Gumby and paddled out with great confidence, until the rollers converging from at least three different directions knocked me off Gumby right next to the entrance rocks. I knee paddled out, expecting the conditions to be far better on the outside. Instead they got bigger, if not quite as confused. Hmmm, I wasn’t expecting this.

Setting up the gear

The victims arrive

No wind! Ugh.

these beautiful twin girls were helping Dad handle his money in the registration line. They’ll be doing a lot more of that in later years.

Canoes set to go

At the horn everyone shot off, with Mark Raaphorst displaying immediate speed on the 18 foot experimental board he was riding. I displayed immediate clumsiness, falling uncerimoniously ten seconds into the race. I then proceeded to fall at least 15 times in short order, until one of the jet skis came by to see if I was OK. “I’m fine, I just need to get my sea legs. I don’t know what’s wrong, I’ve been out in rougher water than this” I said. The jet skier looked dubious, but left me to flounder. Ten more falls and an escort Zodiac pulled up. I repeated my story and she said “OK, but if you can’t get it together in the next five minutes we’ll have to pull you out, we have canoes starting”.

That message somehow got through to the little beast that was screaming somewhere inside my head, and I got up and paddled off. Miraculously not falling until I was out of sight, which isn’t that far when the rollers are overhead. The times between falls extended, until I was actually making some ground. I could see most of the SUP paddlers ahead, and I thought I was catching up to the last of them. He was outside even further than I was, which is remarkable given my dread of being caught inside by a rogue wave. I have to get over that. A few close calls and now I’m phobic about it.

Lonely way out here in last place. Diane shot this from the Ho’okipa lookout. I was already further out than the serious racers

The canoes start 30 minutes later–they’ve almost caught me–it was a rocky start for me.

I slogged on, aiming doggedly for the right corner of Io Valley, off on the horizon. I was trying hard to catch some runners in the wind swell that was going my way, but having very little luck. It became clear to me why people don’t like doing Maliko runs when there’s no wind–the swells and rough water are still there, you just have to plow through them under your own power. Long morning indeed.

I passed Spartan’s reef so far out that I didn’t realize it was behind me. Outer Kahana was a little white line instead of the pounding break that I knew these big swells were tossing up. I was too far out, way too far out. In fact at the end of the race my GPS reported I’d gone 10.0 miles, half a mile further than the course, and I had forgotten to start my GPS until a few minutes after the race started. Just what i needed, a little extra distance.

I caught very few runners, as the GPS trace shows, and those that i caught didn’t last long. No resting on this race. You can also see every fall, except in the beggining when they came so fast and furious that they blend into a big immobile blotch.

By the time I passed kite beach I knew I wasn’t going to have any trouble being out far enough for the harbor mouth. The end of the jetty can be a bit hard to see, and hard to paddle out to if you’re too far inside. I drew a straight line for the end of the breakwall, and still wound up 300 yards outside when I reached the mouth. The only benefit I can see for the “chicken line”. I caught one of the few good runners I’d had all day and got a free ride into the harbor. What a relief.

The jetskier that had checked on me at the beginning of the race whooped me into the harbor: “You made it buddy! Go straight in, don’t do the buoys”. As if i needed him to tell me that. I didn’t care about the official course at that point. I wanted a beer. I straightlined for the beach.

Mark Raaphorst makes the channel entrance solidly in first place. Now you know why Mark’s boards fly.

the first canoe heads for the line. A little bit of muscle on that guy.

First surfski

Mark, finishing

Ekolu Kalama finishes second

Slater Trout digging for the finish with Randy Royce close behind

Slater catches a runner to the beach

Finally, Tail End Charlie makes the harbor

Hey, somebody’s got to be last

Where the hell is the beer

I did a lot of falling, especially at the start

the chicken course–cost me an extra half mile I really didn’t need

The relatively gentle wind didn’t help, at least there weren’t any big gusts

So run three is under my belt, and my first Maliko race. I’m a competitive guy, and coming in last isn’t my favorite thing, but in this case I was pretty pleased to finish under my own steam. It’s a challenging course, and one that I think I’ll get better at. I think the big secrets are taking a decent line that doesn’t add mileage but still uses the best conditions, and knowing how to ride the runners better. I think Jeremy Riggs is among the best guys at doing that. He wants to do a Maliko race on the Penetrator. I suspect he’ll use it well. Maybe I can get a few pointers from him at the same time.

For those who want to do a Maliko race:

You need some rough water experience. Swells along the North shore come from a variety of directions in the open ocean–generally several at the same time. They intermix and produce a confused surface that you need to see to understand. But any experience paddling in 20+ knot winds and big swells will help. You also need to know the route–that means having someone guide you a few times, and it would be nice if they showed you the racing line. You can do what I did and stay way outside any potential huge breaking waves, but it’s the slow way to the harbor.

Some of the fast guys do the race with no safety gear and no leash. That’s nuts. In a 20 knot wind your board can blow away from you in a heartbeat. Yes, you should always catch the board if you fall, but what if you don’t? I wore a small camelback with an inflatable lifejacket stuffed inside, and I carried my cell phone in a soft waterproof case in my board short pocket.

Maui Canoe and Kayak Club holds races all winter long . My next big challenge will be the Maui to Molokai channel crossing. Might have to wait until next year though. I need a lot more time in Maliko. Here’s a gallery of pictures from the race. Special thanks to my wife Diane for shooting the pictures and for being so happy to see me at the finish.