El Morro Classic 2025
Oh man. The butterflies are rolling. Ebbing and flowing into my stomach as the thoughts of this paddle event flow in and out of my mind. The South Wind classic is what it’s commonly referred to as.
The event is held at the end of May, a season when the north winds begin to shift to the south as storms from Baja begin to brew and create our springtime swells. As early as 9 AM, a wind will start to flow and take a wonderfully glassy day and make it a wind-chopped victory at sea kind of day. Not the conditions you hope for during an event.
This is what I think of as the event draws near, but the reports coming in call for a beautifully calm morning. Minimal to no wind, small swell, and warmer but overcast skies throughout the morning. People were amazed. Rarely in the event’s history has this happened. I thank God, it’s a miracle I’ll graciously take. Now, if the report holds, is another story.
The morning of the event arrives quickly. I’m up early. A morning routine and van to pack will take a good part of the early morning hours. Anxiety washes over me again.
The drive to the Newport Aquatic Center is filled with my usual God centered music. Casting Crowns, Dolly Parton, anything that helps me stay thankful for this trial I was about to willingly put myself through. Woof. Woof. Woof. Heavy sighs and relaxed breathing as I try to ease my mind.
Winding through the quiet neighborhood of East Costa Mesa, more vehicles with other watercraft show up, and red ants march into the night. The fine dust kicks up as tires bounce along ruts and rocks, lining up to create rows. People crawl out in the blue-gray morning. Clutching their coffee cups and saying their groggy good mornings.
Liz Boylee pulls up next to me. A spunky and energetic 17-year-old who is the newest member of the Prone 2 Paddle crew. She’s energetic, optimistic, and a fantastic addition to the crew.
I make my way over to the registration table. A small line forms. First name, last name. We collect our swag, a snazzy hat, to commemorate the adventure we’re about to embark on.
There’s a brief safety meeting. The direction we go, the safety boats, and how the finish will go are all covered. The meeting closes, and everyone makes their way back to their boards and cars. Small clouds of dust get kicked up along the way. I drag my feet like I do when I want to avoid what is ahead. There’s no avoiding this, though.
Standing with the Prone to Paddle crew, waiting for the event to start.
I worry that I won't have enough energy along this paddle and will quickly down two Gu packs at my van. I’ve only had a couple of bananas, coffee, some energy stroop waffle, and this weird “pudding” type energy gel. I have no experience with this mix, or was it recommended by anyone? I am just cramming it in and praying to god it works.
I offer Liz some food. She’s starting to get nervous about the whole thing. She’s just voicing the same anxiety I’m having. This will be the farthest either one of us has paddled. It’s the farthest along the coast I’ve paddled. My fears and doubts start to creep further in.
Paddlers begin to head to the beach. Some are getting into the water, giving their limbs a good warm-up before the event. From this point, it is 4 miles through the harbor to the opening. On a 12-board, it’ll take me about an hour to get to the opening. Most people are in 14-foot, 18-foot, or 20-foot unlimiteds. 12-foot is the shortest and will require double the work to keep up with the pack. I wonder if other people are here with a 12-foot board or if I’m the only one. Not wanting to waste time, I quickly get on my board like the other paddlers. I get a few quick laps in before getting into the back of the pack. We sit and wait.
The horn blows, and the churning water begins. Hands are beating around. I make sure to stay at the back of the pack. I have no desire to be a fool and burn my energy so early on. By my estimate, it’ll take me 4 hours at the very least if I can maintain a 4 mph pace. Which is difficult to do in the calm harbor, let alone the open ocean. The chop of the current and wind can slow you down considerably.
As the paddle begins, Liz begins to doubt she can make it. I do whatever I cannot to let her talk herself into giving up. She tells me that she wants to help people with mental health issues, and I tell her that she’ll have to be a lot stronger than she needs to be in this race. To take on the hard burdens and confessions of the people she wants to help. The same thing I tell myself. I have, almost for a decade now, wanted to hike the Triple Crown of Long Trails. Because of this crazy dream, I tell myself I can’t hike those trails if I can’t do [fill in the blank].
“I can’t hike those trails if I can’t park at the farthest parking stall and walk to the store.”
“I can’t hike those trails if I can’t do 15 minutes of yoga.”
And so on.
The harbor opening comes into view. A small stream of people marches toward the opening. Lizzy asks if we go out the opening and left, or if we go out to the bouy and then turn left. I honestly didn’t know and told her we’d turn left directly at the opening and not go out to the buoy. Hugging the coast a little more. In hindsight, I see how being closer to the coast would put us more into turbulent water since it would be capable of jacking up and cresting more. At the moment, this was not something I had thought of.
Lizzie’s leg starts to cramp. I tell her to take some water and make sure to flex her leg; she’s probably a little tense. We cut through kelp beds and thick vegetation that slows down our progress. Another element of paddling through the Laguna area I had not been aware of. Almost everything north of the wedge is sandy bottoms and open waters with out much sign of life. On the south side of the Wedge, however, the sea is filled with much more life.
You can see the other paddlers further out into the water. After having been caught a couple of times in the kelp, as well as Lizzie being caught, I thought it better to make our way out towards where the others were paddling. I proved to have smoother waters. The tide was going in, pushing against my board, but I found it easy to navigate. The yellow buoy wasn’t far off. I let Lizzie know we were 7 miles out with 1 mile left before the turnaround.
The El Morro rock is a headland that marks the beginning of Laguna Beach. At that headland, we would make our turn around. Lizzie wants a break to stretch her back a little. I dig into my 1L Yeti Paddling bag to grab a strupwaffle that will surely give me more energy. I offer some to Lizzie, but she declines. We turn around and head back. Not wanting to waste any time or allow our bodies to realize they’re tired.
While the conditions are not as bad as they were in years past, the water is still not the smoothest. I haven’t felt comfortable enough to do any knee paddling in the open water. It’s been a head down, dig-in sort of paddle since we turned the breakwater wall.
The current is coming in and should be helping, but all it does is jiggle my board around from the tail. Sloshing me back and forth. I make the mistake of staring at a point on my board rather than out in front. This mixed with the flowing motion of the water out of my peripheral and my stomach starts to churn.
I’m at the Northern edge of Crystal Cove State Beach when my stomach starts to churn more. The food I downed on shore, the extra food I ate at the turnaround buoy, mixed with the sloshing tail, is not making for a good time. I’m maybe a mile from the breakwater. My mind toys with quitting. There’s a boat at the entrance. If I can make it to the boat, I can quit.
Lizzie wants to sit up and take a break. Her back is killing her from the 11 miles of paddling on her stomach. I concur. We pull up for a quick break, and in that moment, I explode. Everything I ate just busts right out and onto the board. Now I want the boat. I’ve just got to make it to the harbor opening. Lizzie and I continue. It’s all we can do.
I inch closer to the opening. Closer and closer to my rescue. I’m maybe 50 yards from the boat, not close enough to signal them. Then the worst thing happens. The boat sees the crowd is moving and takes off into the harbor to the next directional landmark. Uggh. God says I must finish.
The current calms further into the rock barrier you go. I still have 4 miles back to NAC. I’m glad I’m in the harbor, however. The boats and buildings will hopefully take my mind off my sick stomach and the fact that I have to lie on it. Knee paddling offers no relief, only a different discomfort.
About a mile and a half from NAC, I feel the uncontrollable desire to once again explode. I’m still up on the board and boom. How can I even have any more food in my guts to throw up again? My stomach settles, and I get back into the task.
I come around the last right before the straight away towards the back bay, and NAC. I dig in and start to push. I want this task done. I want to go home and complain about how I’ll not be doing this again.
Down past the Newport Dunes. I’m almost there. To my knees to dig in. 1, 2, 3, …. I’m over the line. I’m done.
My final distance and time come to 16.15 miles in 4h 18m 05s. 1.15 miles further than the planned course time. If I’d gone the 15 miles originally planned, I’d have done it in about 4 hours. Not bad for a stock 12-foot board.
I get some food that's waiting for me at the end, pack my board up, and head home. I congratulate my friends who smoked it. They’re all a big inspiration, showing me where I could be with time on the mat.
The next official qualifier event for the Ben Did Go 10.0 is July 2nd. A 15-mile group paddle from NAC to who knows where. I’ll find out when the time comes.
Lizzy and I after the race
Prone to Paddle Crew
This event is a step in my journey towards the Ben Carlson Foundation’s 10th Ben Did Go Paddle. A 32-mile prone paddle that crosses the Catalina Channel from Avalon to Newport Beach, CA. I am currently fundraising $2,000 for the Ben Carlson Foundation to be able to take part in this year’s 10th paddle on September 13th, 2025. If you are moved to help my journey to the 10th Ben Did Go, then please follow the link here. NO AMOUNT IS TOO SMALL!
Thank you all. Aloha.
