Ingwe Idla Ngamabala - Green Kalahari Canoe Marathon 2015

September 22, 2015

Ingwe Idla Ngamabala (A leopard eats by means of it's spots)

This is a photo of a modern Zulu warrior. In his right hand he holds not an assegai but a paddle. In his left hand is a kayak not a shield. His battleground is not a grassy plain but a meandering river. What hasn’t changed is his fearless fighting spirit and resolve. He is a fierce competitor.

The Green Kalahari Canoe Marathon is new race on the South African Calendar but it is starting to establish itself as an epic river marathon. Organizer Gawie Nieuwoudt has in recent years put big emphasis on drawing South Africa’s talented teams of development paddlers to his race in the Northern Cape. This year almost half of the field was made up of so-called development paddlers. I say “so-called” because I don’t consider these guys to be development paddlers. These are well-trained and highly motivated elite athletes. Some have proved their prowess and skills on the waters of the Dusi in recent years and you would be foolish to consider them anything but serious competitors.

Day One from Upington to Oranjerus was was 30km. I didn’t have a great start and with a depth of great top end paddlers I was scratching at the back of a bunch of 10 for the first few kilometres. The river is wide with many different channels and rapids, so choosing the right line is very important. It was very tactical and taxing for the first half of day one. When there is a big bunch of guys together, there’s a lot of testosterone and frantic jostling to get the best position at the front wash (where you don’t have to work as hard). Eventually just after the 20km mark, we managed to settle into a 4 boat breakaway at the front which I was part of. Other paddlers on the front were Thulani Mbanjwa from KZN, Stu Maclaren and Jakub Adam from Czech Republic. The chasing pack was right on our tail and had some strong paddlers with them still. We had to keep the pressure on until the end of the day, to ensure our hard earned breakaway survived. After a tricky portage (where you have to get out of your boat and run/ clamber around an obstacle) it was a relatively straightforward approach to the end of the day. The Czech Jakub took the end sprint and day victory with Stu 2nd, Thulani 4th and myself 3rd. I was happy with the day’s effort and was sitting in a relatively comfortable position going into day 2. I say relatively comfortable because my concern for day 2 was that there would be some running with the boat. Thulani is renowned for being an incredible runner and he was going to be very dangerous on day 2’s portages.

Day 2 was a 38km stretch from Keimoes to Kakamas, with 3 major portages and a total of roughly 2.5km of running. For the first half of the race, the 4 of us at the front worked together to keep the chasers off with the mindset of trying to conserve enough energy for the taxing first portage. We had to shoot a couple of great rapids and weirs. These could really end your race if you got it wrong but we all got through safely. (Unfortunately! I was hoping that maybe Thulani, Stu or Jakub would make a mistake that I could capitalize on before the portage, but they were solid and made no mistakes). I knew that it was going to be inevitable that Thulani and possibly Jakub were going to run away from me at the portage so my mindset was to try to relax and concentrate on being fresh enough to chase them down when we got back on the water. You can really hurt yourself if you run too hard on a portage. The first portage played out exactly as I had expected and both Thulani and Jakub ran away from Stu and I. Jakub did incredibly well to stay with Thulani on the run. This was honestly the worst outcome for Stu and myself. Now Thulani and Jakub could work together to get a gap on us. They had roughly a 1 minute gap on us after the portage. Stu had hurt himself too much after the run and wasn’t able to keep up a solid chase pace either, so I was essentially on my own in my efforts to chase the leaders down. Meanwhile behind us in the chase pack, Simon van Gysen had had an absolutely incredible run and had managed to close the gap on us. He is a very dangerous paddler and seems to have super human abilities especially at the end half of a race. He caught up to Stu and I not long after the portage. This was actually great for us, as we now had someone else to work with. The three of us worked together until the next portage at Neus Weir. This portage was made up of two portages in relatively quick succession with a section of paddling in a irrigation canal in between. It was a frantic scramble to get into and out of the canal and back down to the river where we would start to enter the infamous Neus Gorge. Once we were back on the river, Stu had come off and was dropping back. It was now just Simon and I chasing down the two paddlers in front. The Neus Gorge has two of the biggest rapids of the race and is an intimidating place of granite cliff walls and gurgling angry water.

Simon and I made it through the first rapid safely and and entered the second rapid called Gawie’s se Gat. We navigated through this rapid safely as well, but it was a little dubious. The force of the water made our boats feel like toothpicks in tidal pool. After this second rapid Simon spotted Jakub on the bank and told me that we were now lying 2nd and 3rd. Jakub had had a swim, it was now only Thulani in front of us. The water in the gorge boils and surges off the granite walls like an angry serpent from a fairytale underworld. Jakub caught up to us and was paddling like a man possessed. He was incredibly strong and eager to catch Thulani. It was 6km to the finish and we could catch glimpses of Thulani every now and again. Everytime we saw him Jakub would kick up the pace and charge ahead. Simon eventually relented and slipped off the back and it was now just Jakub and me. I was hanging on but wasn’t that confident that I could beat Jakub on an end sprint. He was super strong. Also on my mind was a Google earth image of the channels leading into the finish. I had been studying it the night before and it showed how the river split into a myriad of different channels, some of which ended abruptly and others that lumbered around on long bends. If you took the wrong channel it could be disastrous and cost you a couple of places. Conversely, if you took the right channel you may just secure yourself a victory. Usually I would have done some research and tripped this type of thing beforehand. I'd have worked out my line precisely and ensured that I was in the fastest channel, but I hadn’t had the time to do this. All I had to go by was a hunch and a pixelated google earth image. It was a big risk to take but I decided that I’d have a crack at it. I hoped that it might even put me out in front of Thulani. As we entered the channel section I slipped off of Jakub’s wash and headed for the channel that I thought was best. I tried to visualise the route I had worked out from the google earth image but once I got into the channel it was a maze. It wasn’t how I had imagined it to be and the options to go left and right were many. I had to make a quick and decisive change to my strategy. I made up my mind to follow the tongue of water flow that I thought looked best and hoped that it would lead me out of the maze successfully and not into a dead end.

I came around a bend and spotted the end of the channel with the main river flow ahead of it. Racing towards the exit, I caught a glimpse of Thulani coming passed the channel exit, he was just ahead of me. I popped out about 50m behind him and just ahead of a charging Jakub Adam. It was now just a 800m dash for the line. I managed to hold Jakub off and was happy to finish second. Simon had followed me down the channels but had taken a left where I had gone right. His channel closed up and he had to endure a worrying journey through a tiny tunnel of reeds which he only hoped would have a successful exit. He did manage to come out fine but it had cost him some time. He held on for fourth with Stu doing well to muscle through into fifth.

Thulani had had an absolutely great race. He raced a race that played to his strengths and skills perfectly. I can’t remember seeing him make one mistake along the route, which is very impressive because we were all racing on a course that was relatively unfamiliar. His finesse on the water matched his strength on the run and it’s safe to say that he navigated the course better than anyone else. Well-done Banji!

The Gorge - A Paddling Festival

August 12, 2015

The Columbia River cuts its way through snowy mountain peaks and pine tree covered slopes between the states of Washington and Oregon in America’s Pacific North West. It’s a mighty body of water, coffee coloured and a mile wide in places. For thousands of years it’s been home to Native American’s who settled on its banks and fished salmon from its waters. When European settlers endeavored to conquer the West, they established the Gorge as a major transport route. Steamships ferried logs down to the coast and they built railroads on either side of the river.

In the eighties it was discovered by nomadic groups of Windsurfers. These pioneers of modern wind sport found an absolute paradise in the Hood River area. It seems odd that a river, miles from the ocean, can be a Mecca for wind sports. Its secret lies with unique geography. If you look at a map of the Gorge you’ll notice that the river flows directly through the Cascade mountain range. To the east lies the hot dry desert and to the west the cold Pacific Ocean. The Gorge, with its steep cliffs, is the perfect corridor between these two different climatic regions. It acts as a wind tunnel. The hot air rising in desert sucks in the cold air from the coast. During the summer months this effect is so consistent that you can almost expect to have pumping wind every day. Further enhancing the conditions is the effect of the river’s flow, which is in the opposite direction from the wind. This clash of wind and water creates a unique surface turbulence that we as paddlers like to call runs.

The North American Downwind Champs was now the chance for paddlers to make their own history in the Gorge. It would be the first ever World Surfski Series event to be staged on a river. Carter Johnston, racer director and probably one of the most enthusiastic chaps you’ll ever meet, had done a great job of hyping up the place. A sizeable amount of local and international paddlers had signed up for the event, 170 in total. This was a record entry for a surfski race in the US. The event was also being run for the benefit of the non-profit group Rivers for Change, which raises awareness of the plight of rivers in the worldwide.

Paddlers were spoilt with organised downwind runs all week leading up the race. An event pass got you on the Baker downwind bus that ran all day. If you were up for it you could do 3 or 4 downwind runs in a day. And believe me if the wind is really humping it’s difficult to hold yourself back. The runs in the Gorge are ridiculously fun to surf.

The most exciting stretch of the river is without doubt the aptly named Swell City. This is where those unique geological factors I spoke of earlier reach a zenith. The gorge narrows, funneling the wind to speeds of up to 65kph, on a good day. The same effect occurs below the surface where the flow is also concentrated but in the opposite direction. The swells that form here at the clash of the elements are mutated perfection. Standing up on themselves they are steep and magnificently formed. They line up behind each other like obedient imperial soldiers marching in perfect synchronicity.

Sounds a little intimidating if you’re not an experienced paddler but the reality is that this river downwind is one of the most accessible downwinds I’ve ever done. The water is warm and you’re rarely further that 500m from the bank. Those threats that you sometimes face in the ocean, like waves, sharks and rapid changes in conditions, are non-existent. The effect of the wind swell travelling against the flow means that the runs are little slower and easier to catch. I think it’s a great place for paddlers of all abilities to hone their downwind paddling skills.

Race day arrived and the conditions were great. A top field of Surfski and Outrigger paddlers from all corners of the world, lined up in a small wind sheltered bay in Home Valley. The course was a 23km dash downwind (but upriver) to Hood River. After a fair start it was 20 strokes and we were already surfing runs. Immediately Sean Rice and Jasper Mocke surged to the front. The two paddling pros were at each other’s throats from the word go. Right on their toes was the chase group of Michael Booth, Austin Keiffer, Kenny Rice, Mackenzie Hynard, Mark Anderson and Myself. Racing was tight and technical. Because we were paddling into the flow guys there was the additional aspect of eddies and current to consider. We were weaving from bank to bank on differing lines trying to get an edge.

The conundrum is that the runs are bigger in the sections of the river where the current is strongest. But that’s not always necessarily the fastest line to take. You’re surfing into the flow, which feels fast but a look at your GPS shows you that maybe you’re not travelling as fast as you think. Getting into an eddy (and area where the river flow gets caught in a bay and circles back up stream) could help by increasing your speed but the downside of that is the runs are much smaller (less surfing). Getting on the course and learning its intricacies is definitely something you want to do beforehand.

Just before Swell city, a couple miles from the finish, Sean and Jasper were still neck and neck. They had each gambled with different lines on opposing sides of the river only to return to a position where neither had a definitive advantage. Much of the same was happening just behind them with each paddler making their own wager on the course. As Jasper And Sean emerged from Swell City, it was Sean who had the edge. A late gamble by Jasper in the eddy just before the finish didn’t pay off and it was Sean Rice who was crown the inaugural US Downwind Champion. Fellow Team Fenn mates Michael Booth and Austin Keiffer were in third and forth respectively. Youngstars Kenny Rice and Macca Hynard were next in followed by Ando and myself.

The ladies race was also an absolute cracker. An extremely competitve field with some world class international athletes on the line, including current K1 1000 world record holder Teneale Hatton. In almost a carbon copy of the men’s race, it was Teneale and Michele Eray who went toe to toe. Again decided in the last few kilometres where the super fit Teneale powered over the line in first place. Michele was second with another kiwi Rachel Clarke in third. Aussie Rowena Coghill , Yank Maggie Hogan and Saffa Samantha Murray were fourth, fifth and sixth respectively.

Team Fenn and Team Think chilling after a great week of paddling.

I had a bit of a tricky race and although a little dissatisfied with my result (8th) I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of the Gorge Festival! Hood River is a fantastic place to visit and the paddling in the Columbia Gorge is superb. Thanks to Carter Johnston and his team for putting on such a well organized event. Keep up the good work. I’m sure this race is going to see some great growth in the future. Also thanks to my sponsor Fenn kayaks for getting me there and supplying me an Elite S (my racing ship of choice). Another thanks goes out to my company Holdfast for supporting my passion of surfski racing and allowing me the time off. A notable mention of thanks also to my equipment sponsors Mocke and Orka Paddles.

Green Kalahari Canoe Marathon

August 15, 2014

The longest dirt road in South Africa is the R355 between Ceres and Springbok via Calvinia. Sharp stones and stark isolation (there are no towns or fuel stations on the route) have given this stretch of road a reputation as the stereotypical “dangerous shortcut”. Break down here and you may be spending the night in your vehicle. There’s no cell phone signal and passing vehicles are almost as frequent as rain in the desert.

Longest dirt road in South Africa, the R355

It was on this road that our journey began. With a K2 Kayak on our roof we made the perfect juxtaposition to the dry and waterless landscape. Juxtaposition: an act or instance of placing close together or side by side, especially for comparison or contrast. What a great word to describe this adventure that we had embarked on. My paddling partner, Stu Maclaren, and I had signed up to do the Green Kalahari Canoe Marathon in South Africa’s Northern Cape. Derived from the Tswana word Kgala, meaning "the great thirst", the Kalahari is one of the hottest and driest regions in South Africa. Vast areas of red sand, low preciptation and the absence of permanent surface water are a few of the things that qualify this region as a desert. It’s harsh, arid and probably isn’t the first place you would expect to do a paddling race.

Typical Northern Cape Landscape with Quiver tree

So what makes it possible to do a 3-day canoe marathon in such a place? Well the answer is the mighty Orange river, South Africa’s longest river. Rising in the Drakensberg Mountains, it flows 2200km westward across the country, emptying into the Atlantic Ocean. The Orange supplies the majority of South Africa’s water and plays a vital role in supporting agriculture, mining and industry. For Upington and the smaller satellite towns in the Kalahari region, the Orange is life. Without the regular supply of water that it provides, they simply could not survive.

We were indeed only racing on small section of the Orange between Upington and Khamkirri, a camp just above the Augrabies falls. Small being a relative word, it was still going to be 100km over 3 days. Neither Stu nor I had done this race before, so we had no idea of what to expect. Lucky I was able to get some valuable input and advice from my good mate Jasper Mocke, who won the race last year.

A vein of life in the desert, the Orange River

Jasper talked me through the obstacles and channels on the river via Google Earth. If you’ve ever looked at a map of the area you will notice that the river splits into a maze of channels in certain areas, like the branches of a quiver tree. Go down the wrong channel and you will be kilometres away from the right line and risk missing the finish completely. Not having time to trip beforehand, I had a feeling that racing this river blind was going to be tricky.

Our first look at the river was on Wednesday afternoon at the end of our 9-hour drive from Cape Town. A lower than usual water level meant that the granite boulders that usually line the riverbed were sticking out like hippos in a drying up watering hole. It was a maze of boulders, channels and flat pools. There wasn’t much flow to speak of and the air was dry. Racing in these conditions was going to be tough.

We lined up on Thursday morning next to some very competitive crews. Dusi Champions Thulani Mbanjwa and Sbonelo Zondi, the doggedly evergreen Graham Solomon and his equally tenacious partner Ivan Kruger as well a crew with probably the best knowledge of this section of river, Louw van Riet and Luke Stowman. There were also two crews from Europe, most notably the Czech crew of Michael Odvarko and Kamil Mruzek, who both have world championship medals in whitewater paddling. Kamil is the current World Champion.

It was apparent from the start gun that this Czech crew was a professional outfit. While the rest of the field headed right into the first portage, about 800m after the start, the Czech crew headed off to river left. This was the only section that Stu and I had managed to trip and we waxed the portage, sprinting off to the first bridge prize 1 km downstream. It was only 500m out from the bridge that we realized that we weren’t in fact in the lead. Having been in Upington a few days before, Micheal and Kamil had done their homework and found a much faster line on the left. They now had a 50m lead on us and took the first bridge prize.

Their lead was short lived however. They got stuck on a very low weir 500m after the bridge and the rest of us managed catch and pass them by shooting the weir on the right. The rest of the day was much of the same. With there being so little water and a myriad obstacles and channel options, it was a day of limiting mistakes and marking one another. To make things more difficult the milky coffee colour water disguised submerged rocks and sandbanks so well that you only knew about them after making contact. The lead group fluctuated so much that it was difficult to keep track.

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The main break happened at a portage a few kilometres from the end of Day One. We got away with Graham/Ivan and the Czechs and before we knew it, the finish line was in sight. It was a sprint for the line with Graham and Ivan narrowly taking it. More importantly the three of us had opened up a gap on the rest of the field and it was most likely that the three of us would be doing battle on Day Two.

The highlight of Day Two was a decent into the Neus Gorge. But before that we had to contend with many of the same obstacles we faced on Day One, plus two rather long portages. The longest being 1.6km. I was worried about our boat. She’s a veteran of quite a few canoe marathons and was taking strain on the low river. We’d had to do some repairs after Day One and I knew that it was likely that we were going to get damage on Day Two as well. I realized that managing the damage to the boat was as critical as every other aspect of the race. We decided to play things as safe as possible. The importance of this decision came to light when Graham and Ivan suffered a race-crippling gash to their hull at about the half way mark on day 2. This was a cruel blow and ended the chances of an overall win.

Neus Gorge is an experience like no other. The river narrows into a corridor framed by massive granite walls that rise up out of the water like a dragon’s back. Water that was once slow moving and sluggish, boils and swirls as it is forced through a rocky tunnel of jagged edges and sharp bends. There are some awesome but tricky rapids in the middle of the gorge. It was at one of these rapids that we lost touch with the Czechs, a tightly snaking s-bend with a narrow exit between two boulders. They took advantage and opened up a gap of 80m. It was then a flat out chase to the finish. The narrow gorge meant that we only caught glimpses of them as we zigzagged our way out. At the finish of Day Two they had 50 seconds on us. It was going to be a difficult task to dent that gap on Day Three, especially with a batch start.

The Czech crew and us just before Neus Gorge

Day three was almost like starting a new race with everyone starting together in a batch. It was frenetic from the start gun with crews jostling for positions like they do on a 10km dice. The bunch was again large with 7 boats up front. We made some silly mistakes and lost touch with Graham and the Czechs at the major portage over a large weir at Marchant. Some damage to the boat and tired arms meant that we weren’t in it for the end sprint on the final day but we were still able to hold our overall position of second. Graham and Ivan had a great day taking the stage win and the bridge prize. Thulani and Sbonelo came second with the Czechs third on the day.

What a privilege it is to a paddler in South Africa. We are a group of a few who get to really experience wilderness in our country. They say paddling is not a spectator sport; well I kinda like it that way. The most prevalent spectator on the Orange River is the Fish Eagle and the closest you will come to a cheering crowd is the hiss of cicadas on the riverbanks.

My thanks must go to the charismatic Gawie Nieuwoudt who had the vision and drive to bring this event to life. His passion for this region and for paddling, is the driving force behind the event. The rest of the GKCM team, thank you. I have never felt more welcomed at a canoe race before. I must also say thank you to the Northern Cape Department of Economic Development and Tourism. They know what they have in this province and it is great that they are so excited on sharing it with the rest of us. Also thank you to Protea Hotels who sponsored accommodation for us in Upington and my company Holdfast for again allowing me the time off to follow my passion of canoe racing.

Windy days – Mauritius Ocean Classic 2014

July 10, 2014

“Do you mind if I stop for a minute?” Our taxi driver had just pulled over to the side of the road. Through the palms on our left I could see the Indian Ocean. It was in two moods. Calm, with a violet hue, as it rested in the lagoon but dark and menacing out the back where it was being provoked by a stiff easterly breeze.

“Would you like a date?” the taxi driver asked as he reached back and handed us a plastic packet. The sun had just set on our first day in Mauritius. It had also just set on the first day of Ramadan. He could now celebrate the first hint of food to touch his lips all day, a desert palm date. I obliged and within a minute we were back on our way again, winding our way along the narrow coastal roads that are so typical of this island.

We were headed for the Tamassa Resort in Bel Ombre, the race HQ of the Mauritius Ocean Classic. Stop number 5 on the Surfski World Series the race has established itself as one of the world’s most popular surfski events. This, the 6th edition, was shaping up to be the stuff of legend. The windguru was blushing red all week and many of the world’s best ocean paddling exponents were there for a tussle.

Samantha, my girlfriend, and I have both done this race before. I have done all but one of them in fact. It’s the race I look forward to most every year. I’ve seen what the southern coast of Mauritius can offer up in terms of wind and waves, but I wasn’t quite prepared for what it had for us last week.

Opening the door of our apartment on Sunday morning, I was met with a rush of warm humid air and golden sunshine that was so incredibly welcoming. My mind skipped back to a training session I did at home just two weeks prior. I had had to wipe clumps of hail and ice from my lap whilst resting in between intervals. It was windy, cold and dark and I had spent 8 hours in the office beforehand. “Mauritius in two weeks…” I had imagined this day and it was now here.

$400 000 worth of surf skis are used exclusively for the race.

After setting up our Fenns, Samantha and I hopped on the water and glided out over the reef with a group of about 80 other ocean-riding enthusiasts. The wind was humping and there were runs. Great runs. We rode them along the edge of the reef and slipped in the pass at Baie du Cap. 6km of downwind paddling heaven with flying fish and that deep blue Indian Ocean. Icy Cape Town was now a distant memory. We were in the tropics and it was paradise.

The rest of the week was much of the same. The wind hummed consistently from the East at 20 knots. The water was warm... Wake up. Stroll down to the beach. Check the conditions. Perfect. Breakfast; bacon, eggs, fruit, Cappuccino. Meet at the boathouse for a pre-paddle briefing or clinic. Downwind. Sleep. Eat. Repeat.

After a week of epic conditions race day was on us. The conditions were going to be testing, but not much different from what we had experienced during the week. Wind 21knots East South East. Swell 3.1m East at 9 seconds. The top half of the field was going to relish it but those with less experience would maybe not feel as confident.

Organization for this race is superb, possibly the best. It was decided that there would be two races. The first race would be inside the reef. Less challenging, it was suit those paddlers with less experience. The rest of the diehards would beat each other up in the big stuff on the outside, 22km to Le Morne. It was left to paddlers to decide for themselves whether they would go inside or outside. With a week of consistent conditions and incredible input and coaching from pros Oscar, Dean and Dawid, everyone was well equipped to make the right decisions for themselves.

The outside race starts in an idyllic little cove next to a small island called Ile Sancho. It’s a gap in the reef where you can sneak out past mammoth waves that crunch on coral either side of you. A fair start got things underway with the top 24 seeded paddlers jostling with each other and the massive side chop provided by the easterly wind and swell. We skirted dangerously close to the reef on the right hand side, trying to get the smallest little bit of advantage over each other before we got into the runs. A nose ahead can be a huge advantage at the start of a downwind and guys were putting it on the line. Brendan Rice risked too much and got caught by a bus-sized wave. It dispatched him on the reef, race over.

Sean Rice and Matt Bouman going downwind

After about 3 kilometres in the runs it seemed like I was on my own. In a big ocean like that you don’t often see other paddlers. The peaks and toughs force everyone into a game of hide and seek. I caught glimpses of guys every now and again. Otherwise I was alone. It was fantastic.

The infamous Le Morne pass marks the end of one race and the beginning of another. After screaming downwind for 18km the focus goes from linking runs to navigating a treacherous pass and then powering home for 2 kilometres on shallow flat water. I’ve been caught out in the pass before and I was eager to not let it happen again. Being overly cautious can cost you just as much as being overly daring in Le Morne.

I managed to navigate the pass well with a good mix of measure and bravado, only to be caught by a flying Jean Luc Mauvis with about 1km to the finish on the flat. He attacked and tried to pass me numerous times and I managed to hold him off. With a Herculean last gasp, just metres from the finish, he surged one last time. We both stretched ourselves to the limit, crossing the line together. A dead heat for 5th position. Samantha did really well in conditions that she hasn’t really ever been in before on her own to come 6th overall in the ladies race. Well done to Japs and Nikki Mocke for great wins!

I’m sure you’ve read all of the hype around this event before but the truth is you couldn’t dream up a better week of paddling if you tried. Our time spent at the Tamassa resort last we was unreal and I must say a big thank you to Albert from Lux Sports and Dominic from JPH Boat House as well as Anton and the rest of the race committee. You guys put on an event that our sport can be proud of. Thank you to my company Holdfast for supporting my passion of surfski racing and allowing the time off. The biggest thank you I have goes out to my sponsor Fenn Kayaks. Not only do the help me out with travel expenses and a boat but they also have a hundreds of surfskis on the island, which are used exclusively for the race. They have invested in this race because they know it captures the essence of surfski paddling. Book your spot for next one soon. I have a feeling it’s going to fill up fast!

Designing the HOLDFAST Brand ID

October 16, 2013

One of my first jobs at Holdfast was to develop a new brand identity. It would be a visual starting point for the renovation of a company that has been around for 30 years. Thirty years is a long time and although the brand was well known to some it has been through a period of stagnation in the last decade. There had only ever been one logo upgrade and a formal brand identity / guideline did not exist.

Not wanting to stray too far away from what was recognizable, the changes I made to the logo were very slight. A simple punch and trim and the addition of an accent colour was all that was necessary to create something that was as fresh as it was familiar.

Building a credible brand for your business in today’s age is essential. People don’t just buy products anymore they buy brands. A strong brand gives the consumer a confidence in your business that will promote growth and stability. If you don’t believe me, just think about when Apple releases a new iPhone. Thousands of people around the world will queue for hours to spend their money on a product that they haven’t even seen or held yet.

Although there was an absence of a formal brand identity at Holdfast, the company did have a presence in the market place. Although it had never previously been thought about or planned, the framework of a brand identity was there. It was built on the back of 30 years of products that have been used by thousands of people around South Africa. I’d be willing to bet that if you are a cyclist, surfer, fisherman or paddler you have at some stage used one of their products. It was this long and established legacy that I wanted to build on when creating the new Holdfast identity. The challenge was to create something fresh and new without straying too far from what was familiar.

Inspiration for Holdfast’s new colour scheme came from Cape Town’s Atlantic beachs. The contrast of freezing crystal blue water on silver white beaches and heavy granite boulders has a freshness that only a Cape Town surfer would know!

On top of this we wanted to inject some local flavour and pride into our brand id. Holdfast products are proudly designed and manufactured in Cape Town, South Africa. Many of our employees are adventure sports enthusiasts who love to compete and enjoy the beautiful outdoors that we are so privileged to have access to. Our founder Ian Smith is himself an outdoor sportsman who started the business to fulfil an need to get his windsurfing boards down to the beach in the 1980s. We wanted this love of the South African and in particular the Cape outdoors to come through in our brand ID as well.

HOLDFAST - TAKES YOU THERE. A company that's proud to be South African

Scroll down and have a look at the new brand identity in action. The response to the new branding of Holdfast has been tremendous. We won an award for stand design at the 2014 Cape Argus Cycle Tour Expo, the biggest cycling expo in Africa. There has also been a marked growth in sales since the launch of the new brand identity in March 2014.

Uniformity is incredibly important in maintaining a good brand ID. These guidelines manage and guide all forms of design and marketing material ensuring that Holdfast has a presence that is recognisable and uniform

Lost in the Tropics - Mauritius Ocean Classic 2011

July 24, 2011

There were two dodgy looking characters standing on the other side of the railing as we pushed our luggage trolleys out of the arrivals terminal at the Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam International Airport. One of them was tall and skinny with long dark hair and pale skin. He was wearing a black leather jacket and had a motorbike helmet tucked under his right arm. The second bloke looked like the “after” picture in that advert from that nutritional supplement company which promises big muscles and rock hard abs in six weeks. It must have been week ten for him because the abs had since morphed into one single pot belly and his now sizable chest and arms were covered in a layer of easy living. Both wore gold chains around their necks and had cheesy Chinese tattoos. I wasn’t much surprised to see that Mr Muscle was holding a blue clipboard with the name “Clinton Pretorius” written on it.

Muscle Man introduced himself as Stan. He talked with a ridiculous Aussie/ French accent that nearly made me laugh out loud. As he walked us around the back of the airport to our rental car, I gave Lightie a look which made him say “What Tomo? It’s cheap.”

The stereotype I was compiling for Stan was further strengthened by the Ferrari red Hyundai Accent that now stood in front of us. It had an exhaust pipe you could block with a coconut and a racing filter which made her engine whistle. Matt black mag wheels with low profile tyres and tinted windows gave her that Blue Lagoon street racer feel. We named her “The Red Loman.”

“If you geet stopped by the coppers, just tell dem you borrowing it from a mate ah.” As Stan was going through the usual pre- black-market-car-rental admin, I was desperate to know how Lightie had managed to organise this one. “Oh yeah, if you crash just give me a call ay. Ah let’s make the excess 15 000 Rupees ay?” Without signing an autograph or even touching a pen for that matter, we were off.

Racing down the windy sugarcane lined roads of Southern Mauritius I could tell that Lightie was feeling right at home. We drove through slums, dodging little men on motor-powered bicycles, with helmets that were far too big. Occasionally groups of heavies, who were playing dominoes and smoking marijuana on the side of the road, would wave at us as we sped past. It was more of a familiar acknowledgement than a greeting and it made me wonder what else Stan did for work.

Behind me sat Dom Notten, a freakishly talented 16 year old I train with back home. I’d invited him along for the ride and at that moment he was definitely getting his money’s worth. Dom doesn’t talk much at the best of times and I don’t think he did anything but breathe on that one hour drive to Black River. The antithesis of Dom, Clint “Lightie” Pretorius couldn’t stop talking. He’s an easily distracted, hyperactive freak of an athlete and one hell of an exciting person to drive with. Double clutching on every gear change and dodging livestock, people and buses with one hand on the steering wheel. I had to remind him to keep his eyes on the road a few times to. I must admit it’s the most phantom breaking I’ve ever done in any passenger seat.

The coastal road which runs between Souilliac and Tamarin is truly breath taking. Parts of it remind me of the North Shore in Hawaii. Other parts, the places I dreamt tropical would look like as a little boy. Tall coconut palms break up the monotony of rolling hills of sugarcane. Every now and again you pass through areas of natural vegetation which will make you feel like you might just bump into Tarzan and Jane. Massive fig trees rise up out of the dirt like giant green jellyfish. We had fun swinging from the thick vines which hang from their branches. Mangrove swamps clog the entrances of small rivers which run down the slopes of black rock volcanic mountains.

It is however the ocean which is truly my favourite part of Southern Mauritius. Areas of calm turquoise Indian Ocean rest in massive lagoons that stretch out for kilometres in some places. The lagoons are never more than a few feet deep and are filled with all the corals and sea life that you would expect to find in any tropical paradise. You’ll find flotillas of rickety old fishing boats all along the coast, moored in the calm waters of these lagoons.

It’s beyond the lagoons where the real treasure for us watermen is found. The deep blue Indian Ocean moves freely and spontaneously, uninhibited by bays or large landmasses. Ocean swells built in the far south unload themselves onto the islands outer crust. Find a kink in this crust and you may just ride some of the best waves of your life. Further out, the wind is free to whip up a storm. On a good day it might blow for hundreds of kilometres, tickling the ocean’s surface relentlessly all the way. You might just ride some of the best runs of your life on a day like that.

As you can imagine it is very easy to become distracted in this sort of environment. As a group of elite athletes we were in Mauritius for one reason, to race. Months of preparation and sacrifice, combined with a desire to satisfy a fierce competitive disposition – an animal like desire to savage and slaughter our adversaries, to prevail as the dominant victor – had brought us to this point in time. We should have been edging to go but the usual pre battle atmosphere was strangely absent. Maybe we were all a bit lost in a dreamland?

Race day and that ever elusive element of nature we call WIND greeted us with the rhythmic monotony that is so typical of the tropics. It wasn’t blowing out of the typical South Easterly direction though, so the course was changed. We were to race twenty one kilometres from Flic en Flac to Le Morne along Mauritius’s west coast. This one was going to be a downwind and most of the world’s best downwind paddlers were there to fight it out.

For me all the pre-race pandemonium disappears as soon as I get onto the water. There’s nothing to think about, no body to talk to. It’s just you, your boat and a 21 kilometre of open ocean. It’s not lonely; in fact I find it quite comforting.

We raced hard. Dawid went out like a rocket and we chased him. Closing the gap was a matter of fighting for every metre. Those hard earned metres we made he took back with bursts of power and skill that were true to his title of world champion. In the end none of the field was able to catch Dawid. It was his day in paradise.

Afterwards we shook hands like gentlemen and congratulated the day’s victor. That competitive disposition was subdued for the time being and there was nothing else to do but enjoy our surroundings. That evening we surfed together as mates on the reef in front of the resort. The majority of the top dogs were out there together and we hooted and cheered for each other’s waves like over excited school boys. After catching one of the best waves of the evening, Daw paddled back out with a smile wider than a minibus and a twinkle in his eye. “This is the best surfski race in the world” he proclaimed. I couldn’t agree with you more bru!

Molokai to Oahu and everything in between – Hawaii 2011

May 21, 2011

I arrived in Hawaii a zombie, manufactured through 12 time zones, 2 hemispheres and 36 hours squeezed in an aluminum tube at 36 000 feet. My body which I’d been surgically sculpting for many months was stiff and sore, my mind delirious.

It is a tricky thing being an international athlete. Trying to get your body to peak for an event you’ve been working towards for months is difficult enough. Dealing with the potentially debilitating effects of long distance air travel just adds to the difficulty mixture. You see an airplane full of people is a test tube full of virus and bacteria. An athlete close to his/her peak is generally the perfect host for most of the baddies found in test tube B 777.

The plan was to take my first few days easy, to shed the zombie and become human again. My enthusiastic host Zsolt Szadoski had other ideas though and was twisting my arm to do a Makapuú Run before the sleeping pills had even worn off. I submitted and that afternoon we were surfing down swells bigger than my surfski in water bluer than any blue I’ve ever squeezed out of a paint tube. I saw turtles and flying fish. The unswerving force of the tropical easterly trade winds dulled the throbbing in my head. I had to pinch myself entering Hawaii Kai’s palm tree lined bay. This indeed was absolute paradise. The perfect remedy to the torturous journey I had endured to get here.

Everybody paddles in Hawaii in one form or another. The most popular practice is six man outrigger canoe paddling, the traditional Polynesian kind. Outrigger canoe clubs are more abundant than petrol stations on Oahu. They’ve been doing the Molokai to Oahu crossing in these canoes for 60 years; it is Hawaii’s national sport. You can find crews of all ages and genders training on most stretches of water every evening in Honolulu. The famous Outrigger Canoe Club is truly something to behold. It’s more Ritz than the Ritz itself. Situated right on the water below the famous Diamond Head, it has to be the pinnacle of any paddling club in the world.

OC 6- Mid Kaiwi channel in great conditions

The more modern single and double outrigger canoes are probably the next most popular form of paddle sports in Hawaii. Lightweight and easy to paddle they make ocean paddling accessible to the masses. Hot on the heels of outriggers is the infectious new trend of Stand Up Paddling (SUP). There was a race on in Waikiki whilst I was there and they had over 300 competitors in a range of different categories. Surfski probably comes in last in terms of local participation. It is however interesting to see that locals aren’t loyal to one particular brand of paddle sports. They chop and change craft depending on their mood and the mood of the ocean. This means that if you live and paddle in Hawaii you may compete in two or three Molokai crossings a year, all on different craft. All in all ocean paddle sports is a winner in Hawaii. The place is a paddling mecca.

I was here for the Molokai surfski race, famous and infamous worldwide. I’d heard all the stories and been thoroughly briefed on what to expect from many helpful friends back home. I think it’s safe to say that Molokai doesn’t have the greatest reputation for oily smooth organization. There are many things to worry about. Support boats, air tickets, surfski transportation, nutrition, accommodation, the admin list is endless! Godfrey Mocke once told me that; “Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance”. This is most definitely the slogan you need to follow when approaching Molokai, even more so if it’s your first attempt. Despite forgetting my passport at home and nearly being denied access onto the flight over on race day, I felt I had all my bases covered. I’d asked all the questions, done all my homework and to be honest I sailed through it all, with very few hassles. All that was left to do was to paddle the Kaiwi channel.

Molokai Island is completely different from Oahu. It’s flat, dry and desolate. I didn’t see a soul on the 20min drive from the airport to the Kaluakoi Resort, the race start venue. I don’t think we even past another vehicle. It reminded me of places back home in the Karoo. I found myself scanning the bush for kudu and springbok. Maybe I was a bit homesick? I dunno, but I wasn’t feeling too many pre raced nerves. This place was chilled and it was rubbing off on me.

The Kaluakoi Resort is even more African than the back streets of Nairobi. The golf course has been overrun by tropical creepers and the maintenance man obviously has a wage dispute because it looks as if he’s been on strike since 1993. Strands of golden grass have long ago squeezed their way through the cracks in the concrete flooring. Roof tiles lie broken and beaten after many years of holding on too tight. I can’t dispute the setting though. The bay that was slowly filling up with 20 foot whalers is beautiful. Tall palm trees line a golden beach, framed at one end by black volcanic cliffs and filled with that mesmerizing blue Pacific. It doesn’t seem like the place you would typically start an epic journey. Rather a rest stop on a journey that you have already embarked on.

Oahu was barely visible as we lined up for the race start. The antithesis of Molokai, Oahu is distinguished by massive dormant volcanoes. The mountains trap moisture and cloud. They are the life and soul of the island, the father of the lush and fertile landscape. It was the mountains I was headed for. “You see that little valley there, to the left of Koko Head? You wanna head for that.” a word of advice from Molokai legend, Dean Gardiner. It’s a big expanse of ocean and I was told that we were lucky because often you can’t see Oahu from the beach at Kaluakoi. I’m not sure what you do on days like that. Head for the horizon and hope for the best really.

We had some wind to start with, a steady 12knots over the right shoulder. Surfing down perfectly sculpted 3 to 4 foot wind swell, I was nearly fooled into thinking that it was going to be a breeze. The fairytale slowly began to fade after about 12km though. As the wind coughed, choked and slowly died I was quickly reminded that this was going to be grueling. Rides became shorter and more infrequent. I started to notice the heat.

The thing that really makes the Molokai tough is the heat. It is merciless. With the wind dying at my back I was drawn slowly into a heat vacuum that was sucking the life out of my body. Cramping becomes an issue because you sweat out all your body’s vital salts. Zsolt had warned me about it before. He’d told me how he had once cramped so badly that he was rendered useless. Dead on the water, in the middle of the channel, arms mangled, unable to reach his juice or hold his paddle.

I had taken every precautionary measure possible in the hope of avoiding cramp. I drank most of the electrolyte supplements available and made sure I added extra salt to my evening chow. Alas after 40km and even with 2,5 litres of fluid in me, my muscles were twitching and fragile. I was cramping in the weirdest places. I remembered someone telling me that drinking sea water was a good idea because it replenished the lost salts. It was a last resort and I tried it. I swallowed a couple mouthfuls and washed them down with fresh water from my juice bladder. It seemed to work. I actually kind of craved the taste of sea water at one stage. Your mind plays funny games on you sometimes.

It was great to come along China walls with the finish in sight. I caught a couple waves on the reefs inside the bay of Hawaii Kai and cruised under the bridge and across the finish line, satisfied. I was reasonably happy with my result but more than that I was really stoked to have finished my first Molokai.

Molokai isn’t a 52km paddle across the Kaiwi Channel. It’s more than that. It’s a journey. A journey I thoroughly enjoyed rambling through. I met great people and ate great food. I surfed waves at the home of surfing and rode swells like mountains. If you love the ocean then Hawaii is a place you have to visit. If you paddle, Molokai is a pilgrimage you must complete. Aloha.