So I have finally gotten enough pennies in my piggy bank to buy myself a Kona.  With the purchase came the mantra, "I no longer have any excuse to be on the beach."  So I took it to heart when I saw the NOR for the i-to-i.  A race I've been interested in for several years, and one that I figured a longboard would be perfect for.  I thought it would be smooth to sail a complete Kona racing rig.  Much thanks must go out to a great man, Steve Gottlieb, who lent me a Zenith 7.4 rig without batting an eye.  Excited as could be I made the trip from Gainesville to Fort Lauderdale.  I spent the night with my uncle in Fort Pierce and there learned of the conditions forecast for the weekend.  20knots winds with 6-9 ft seas.  The wind didn't bother me much, I'm young and ignorant and figure I could hold onto the sail for a while as I went screaming around the ocean.  The high seas didn't faze me much either since I've never experienced much over a foot or two.  Living in Florida you have the luxury of not going out on the ocean when it's a bad idea.  So, full of confidence I arrived at South Beach before the skippers meeting.  As I walked up to Ron and several of the others I noticed something I didn't expect... I was leaning into the wind.  Heavy sand was blowing off the beach and everyone except Mike Rayl was huddling and not rigging.  The ocean looked like a boiling pot of water, but that still didn't seem like much of a deterrent because it always looks smaller than it is from the beach and I wasn't about to psyche myself out.

After a good hour or more of milling around and hiding from the gusts that were hitting 30, we decided to lay down the law.  Race or not?  The formula guys were on the fence, the Kona's were all for a good attempt, and the kiters were getting ready for a test run.  So the race was on!  Mike Rayl had been doing his best to intimidate me but I would hear none of it!  Although I had a feeling I was in for a beating anyways.  Skipper’s meeting on the beach was focused on safety and even saw the quick creation of a shorter B course for those that were unsure about making the journey to the Hillsboro buoy.  I had been advised that I should go out on the water and test my gear first, but I didn't want to know the truth of what I was getting into.  Everyone rigged in the shadow of the vehicles and hit the water.  You could tell the most confident sailors were the ones at the start line near the actual start.  The "survivors" were at the start line whenever they felt like it and were tired of the lifeguards on the beach yelling and screaming.

The shore break was thankfully small.  Hopping over three maybe-knee high waves and I was out past the break.  That's when I realized how much trouble I was in.  I had my 7.4 Zenith downhauled more than I ever would've though, and I wished I had downhauled it more.  Harness lines too far forward, boom too high, I might as well have just learned how to sail.  Thankfully all this distracted me from the size of the waves I was bobbing around on.  After a quick dip in the water for adjusting I was off and running.  That was the first and only time I saw those I left the beach with.  Mike Rayl and Steve Campbell were near me for the first tack to the start line, and then I was lost to the ocean's fury.  Starboard tack was pretty good.  I could make a parallel tack to the shore and head north.  Too bad I don't have my experience on the open ocean.  Every wave made me wobble a bit and bear off just a touch.  I had to make three tacks back out from shore before the end of my journey to the Hillsboro Inlet.  Focusing on handling all the wind kept my mind off the waves around me for the most part.  I was having fun and singing show tunes to myself and being thankful I wasn't cold.  It slowly started to dawn on me that I was riding some really big waves.  I started really paying attention to each incoming wave and I realized that I was looking UP to see the top of the next wave when I was in the trough of the previous.  I'm 6'4"...and I was looking UP!  I realized that from shore only about the top third of my sail was visible between the bigger waves.  Such a cool experience!  Mind you, no one left the beach who didn't know they could make it back, so safety was first and foremost on our minds.  Knowing I could at least survive and get back to shore if something happened gave me plenty of room to enjoy the fact that these waves were as high as the ceiling of the room you are probably in as you read this.  When the sun peeked out between the clouds it was downright beautiful.  I had a reminder more than once that I was racing as the odd wave slammed into my body and tried to tear me off my board.

Once underway in the race and fully aware that I was in over my head it was my firm goal to make it to Hillsboro Inlet.  I figured upwind was the hard part and downwind would happen naturally.  About half way to the buoy I saw one of the formula guys screaming downwind.  I figured it to be Ron and wondered how in the world he was heading downwind barely an hour into the race.  It took me a little under 1:45 hours to make it to Hillsboro Inlet.  I was determined to round the buoy and not take any shortcuts, but my endurance was about spent.  I had to take an extra small tack just before the mark and even that barely cut it.  I ended up rounding the mark and kissing it with the entire length of my board.  There's a nice dirty red stripe on my Kona to prove it!  Then came the downwind!  My mind was set that it could be done, but my body said otherwise.  I took off screaming downwind and ended up just collapsing off the board into a slow motion pseudo-catapult.  I figured it was time for a rest and re-evaluation.  After a good five minutes of drifting and several failed attempts to get back underway told me it was time to hit the beach.  I managed to get onboard and locked in before my strength gave out and I went swimming again.  I don't think I've ever taken a faster downwind run as I did on my way to the beach.  Reaching the break all I could think of was my borrowed sail, obliterated endurance, and not breaking anything.  A quick dismount and a quicker scramble up the beach got everything away from the shorepound and onto solid land.  Covered in sand and half buried, the sail was ok!  I took one look around at the old people looking at me quizzically and just laid out on the beach right next to my board.  Solid land never felt so good.

The local lifeguards soon pulled up and asked how I was doing.  Apparently they had eyes on me while I was out and saw me come in.  Once I told them the details of the race they were amazed we would even attempt such a race!  Word spread like wildfire through the other guards that some crazy sailors were sailing from South Beach to Hillsboro Inlet and back and that only three of 13 had made the journey.  There were impressed that I managed to make it as far back as Atlantic Blvd, and could barely believe that a few had made it the entire distance.  Exhausted and barely able to pick up my board, I was just proud that I attempted it and got back to shore in one piece.  Maybe I'm just a little insane, but I can't wait to do this again next year.  I don't see the race being held in conditions worse than this, and I managed to survive this!

The race was organized beautifully.  All the sailors were supportive of each other even amongst the competition of the race.  The part afterwards was full of stories and smiles.  Everyone enjoyed the prizes and another big thanks goes out to the sponsors for supporting this race.  It's an experience everyone should try once, and I know I will be trying it again next year!

-Cody Steward