The next event on the qualification list is the July 2nd paddle taking off from NAC. The take-off time is another crack-of-dawn start. 6 am. The thing that made this event different than the others was the Wednesday that the event fell on. I thought nothing of it as I packed up the van.

The NAC dirt lot is bathed in a steel grey-blue light. The bluffs across the water are becoming a familiar sight as the months of training begin have add up. I’ve done this more consistently than I have surfing. I wonder where else paddling will lead me.

A small line forms behind a small blue hatchback. People are giving their names and receiving a large red circle sticker. Your number and badge that you’re training for this year’s Ben Did Go event. A mark of pride around Newport. I give my name and get my dot. 79. Back to my car, I go to unload my car.

At the edge of the water, I put the sticker on the front of the board. Keri is next to me, and I mention that we’ll both have to sign the sticker after we paddle across the channel together. The morning is still overcast, and the grey tone lingers in the air. A meeting is called before we take off. We’re told about the boat following us, the point we’ll turn around at, and the reason for the Wednesday paddle.

July 2nd is Ben Carlson’s Birthday. The group listens as Spencer speaks about his friend, the amazing soul he had, the paddle we’re working towards reflects the person he was. We talk about keeping it at an easy pace. The pack will stay together.

The meeting breaks. Paddlers grab their boards, taking their first steps in the water. The water is warm and clear. As soon a each paddler touches the water, their event has begun. No horn to blow, no official start time. A large group paddle like the event will be in September. Hands churn the water. I try to stay at the back of the pack while trying to keep up with the pack.

The pack is moving quickly. Keri mentions that this is a faster than 4 mph pace. I agree it feels quick. We approach the harbor patrol and the opening of the harbor, which is 4 miles from the Newport Aquatic Center. I glance at my watch, and it reads about 50 minutes.

The first break is at the harbor entrance on the north side of the opening. I manage to pull up with enough time to catch the break. During the Ben Did Go Event, there will be breaks every 5 miles, to all the paddlers a chance to relax a little after an hour working through the channel.

The break is not long. As the last paddler pulls up, we take off north, toward the first of the two piers we’ll see this morning. The Balboa Pier. The pier was originally built in 1906. Part of a sister project with the Balboa Pavilion, the pier was used, along with the pavilion, to attract tourists to this desolate strip of land. Nearly 120 years later, this desolate strip of land is worth an untold amount of money.

The pier slowly approaches, and the pack spreads out as the inches crawl by. Someone paddling next to me mentioned in a joking way about so much for keeping a pack mentality. Making sure everyone stays together. All I could get out was yeah.

The pier slowly passes by, and the next one is locked into my sight. It’s about a mile to the McFadden Pier, the pier that sits along the site of the famous Blackies beach break. The current is pushing into shore, and a few of us have to swing out wide to avoid going under the pier. On the south side of the pier, the Pier club makes their way into the water. It marks the 7 am hour and is a reminder of the day of the week.

Past the second pier, we shoot right for the first groin in the many series of groins that mark the blocks heading north. While referred to as jetties, the rock formations that protrude from the shore are too short to be official jetties. Calling them the Newport Groins, though, over the Newport Jetties doesn’t have quite the same ring.

Our next break is happening. Once again, it is not long before everyone takes off, back toward the Wedge and the harbor opening. This time, though, the paddlers take off and hit the water like mad. Widening the gap even more than it was on the way out. I’m at the back of the pack with another guy. I confess that if the surf wasn’t so crazy going into shore, I’d just go in and be done. My arms were dead, and I couldn’t get another gear going. I felt sluggish and slow. Not that I told him that, but that is what went through my mind.

I get that crap ass feeling again. I start feeling like I’m going to bust. I’m maybe a mile from the harbor opening. The tide that I’d been paddling against on the way out has been at my back. A Bobo’s bar I’d had a couple of bites of had started the reaction, I think, and before I could even sit up. Boom. I explode. Maybe I’m pushing it hard; I always feel slow in things, so I push harder to be faster, and like a 1 -2-punch, I get socked in the gut.

I give myself a breath before carrying on. I’ve got to keep up with the pack. I’ve got to keep going.

I paddle my way through the harbor as hard as I can. Wanting to get back and be done. My final wish is whenever I’m close to being finished.

Luckily, I don’t have a repeat of the El Morro Classic and only have the one thing. For lack of a better description. I get close to this large wooden boat from Fontuky that I always see when I’m paddling back toward NAC. I know it’s the final turn before the straight away and the last mile. I pump my arms faster and try to keep on my knees for as long as I can. To find a rhythm and get home.

I pass under the Pacific Coast Highway bridge. The water is emptier on the week day than on weekends. I paddle close to the turns and cut across to shorten my distance.

Around the last turn I come. I slide up on the shore and stop my watch.

The challenge is over.

At the end I traveled 15.2 miles in 3h 48m 28s

BDG 10.0 Qualifier #2

El Morro Classic 2025