MY KAYAK CROSS TRAINING EXPERIENCE or my preferred title: SHARK ENCOUNTER!

If you have ever vacationed on the Outer Banks, the barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina, you may have heard of Monkey Island. No, it is not an island full of monkeys as the name suggests. It was so designated because the Pamunkey Indians once inhabited the area. It is located a couple of miles west of Corolla, NC in the middle of the Currituck Sound. Here's a map.

We vacation in Corolla often, and three of my mystery novels are set on the Outer Banks (Murder at Whalehead, Murder at Hatteras, and Murder on the Outer Banks).

 



In the late 1800s a large lodge was erected on the island and became the base for the Monkey Island Hunting Club in the 1920s. The club's membership, mostly the rich and powerful, included Charles A. Penn, an American Tobacco Company magnate.  The building has long since been abandoned and is now enshrouded with Sabal Minor palms, live oak trees, and thick shrubbery. The island is currently a part of the Currituck National Wildlife Refuge and is inhabited by hundreds of wading birds, osprey, and water moccasins.

 

 Last week while on vacation in Corolla, my son, Joseph, convinced me to rent kayaks and paddle out to Monkey Island. Although I read several online posts warning readers that kayaking to Monkey Island is a bad idea, I figured what the heck--it could be a good cross training day.

 

We began our journey at the public boat launch ramp located on the Whalehead Club grounds in Corolla. Joseph and his buddy, John, paddled a two-man kayak, and I managed a bright red single. I discovered quickly why online posters warned against this excursion.

 

About a quarter mile out into the Currituck Sound, I noticed the waves tossed my little kayak around like a toy boat. Several times when they slapped the side of the kayak, I almost tipped over. After about ten minutes I learned to angle into the waves, roll with them, and still manage to paddle at the same time. With two people on the oars, Joseph and John quickly pulled away from me.

 

When we cut between the shore and a small marshy island, the waves eased up, but then I saw it. A large dark gray dorsal fin rose up out of the water about 20 yards ahead of me. I immediately stopped paddling. My heart thumped into my throat. I wanted to shout out to Joseph and John, but they were fifty yards ahead of me. Besides that, I didn't want the creature to know I was there.  Surely that can't be a shark, I thought. Not on the sound side. But then I remembered hearing stories about bull sharks, one of the most dangerous species of shark. They have no problem surviving in brackish sound waters or even swimming upstream into fresh water rivers. Slowly the huge triangular fin sliced through the water directly in front of me and then disappeared below the surface.

 

In the next few minutes I discovered how fast and hard I could paddle. I actually caught the other kayak and passed them on the way to Monkey Island, about a two and a half-mile journey. Joseph and John told me the waves were so bad their kayak had begun to fill up with water, and they had difficulty steering. I'm sure this was true, but adrenalin from my shark encounter must have boosted my speed.





 

When we arrived at the island, we had to go ashore to empty the water out of our kayaks. If not, we would have risked sinking on the way back. Although the hundreds of squawking birds didn't appreciate our presence on the small beach, I took my time and emptied the kayak anyway. I didn't want to become shark bait. My arms were exhausted and my wrists hurt.

 

We set off again and made a lap around the island, weaving in and out of posts that encircled the perimeter and were intended to protect it from erosion. Time and the elements were winning that battle. On the other side I took a picture of a huge osprey's nest. Lucky for me the bird was out fishing. I'm sure she would not have appreciated my intrusion. Peering through the brush, we could barely see the remains of the old hunting lodge.

 

 

Next we decided to paddle to Mary Island about a mile to the south. Going in that direction, we headed directly into the waves. Joseph and John pulled way ahead of me. I kept telling myself: I'm an endurance athlete. I can do this. Slowly but surely I caught up. Mary Island was not nearly as interesting--just a huge, marshy clump of land out in the middle of the Currituck Sound.

 

We decided to paddle all the back to our beach house, an extra three-quarters of a mile. With a mile to go Joseph and John had to head in to shore. Their kayak had filled up again with water. Could I win the race back to the beach house? At this point I had to stop every few hundred yards, rest my arms, and lean on my elbows to relieve my aching butt. John and Joseph caught and passed me with a few hundred yards to go. By the time I pulled up to the dock I was exhausted--three and one half hours of paddling a kayak for about seven miles through wind and waves.

 

Kayaking to Monkey Island--I can check that one off my bucket list. I don't plan on doing it again and don't recommend the journey to a novice kayaker. However, if you are a risk taker and don't mind running into a bull shark, go ahead and try it. Or as the shark would say, "Go ahead. Make my day."

 

Next post -- Wheeling's Fourth of July Five Miler

 

Happy running,

 

Joe C. Ellis





THE BARTON VFD 5K AND WHY SMALL-COMMUNITY RACES ARE SO GOOD

This morning I participated in the Barton VFD 5K in Barton, Ohio. Where is Barton? Out in the country somewhere between Martins Ferry and St. Clairsville. Like most small communities, if you blink twice while you're driving through it, you may miss it. However, you will not find a place in the state with a bigger heart. In these little communities people still know and care about each other. They have roots that go back for generations, and they don't forget where they came from. They possess a great community spirit and actually like each other . . . a lot. Throughout the year they organize festivals and fund raisers to raise money for good causes, to remember and honor the traditions of the past, and to just gather together and experience old-fashioned fellowship.

Many of you have been to these kinds of races. You know what I'm talking about. When you get there, you feel like you know everybody. There are a lot of hugs and hand shaking. Some of these events have been faithfully organized and orchestrated for years and years. The Barton 5K has been raising money for the Barton Volunteer Fire Department for the last 21 years. As you hang out with these people you get a great sense of their community pride.

Big city races may be exciting, bustling, sensational, and even over-the-top, but they can't offer what these small-town races do: that personal touch, that familiar feeling, that assurance that there are still places in the world, albeit small places, where people count on each other, support each other, and care about what happens in their community--places where people still welcome you, cheer you on, and call you by your first name.

Today's race offered the contestants perfect weather--high 50s and fresh air. Summer racing can be tough when the heat and humidity roll in, but today we raced under ideal conditions. Top 3 Overall Female Runners: 3rd Place, Kristina Tomlan 21:06. 2nd Place, Chrissy Lewis 19:55. 1st Place Sherri Martin 19:45. Top 3 Overall Male Runners: 3rd Place, Alex Timko 18:13. 2nd Place Kyle Timko 17:28. 1st Place, Cedric Robinson 16:30. Top 3 Female Walkers: 3rd Place, Jenna Cook 34:45. 2nd Place, Mickey Speaker 33:10. 1st Place Sherri Alig 32:49. Top 3 Overall Male Walkers: 3rd Place, David Workman 33:34. 2nd Place, Mike Carpenter 31:57. 1st Place John Fitzgerald 28:41.

Last year in the high humidity I ran 19:50. Today I felt much better and ran 19:36. I don't hold out much hope of breaking 19 minutes again in my life for a 5K. I think I broke it once last year on a short course. I can feel the speed leaving me with the passing years. My son-in-law tells me I need to throw in some fast striders on my easy distance days. Maybe I'll try that.

Boston Update: I've reserved our hotel room. I'll be staying about a mile from the finish line at Omni Parker House, one of the oldest hotels in Boston. I'm getting excited already!

Have a great running week,

Joe C. Ellis