Click on the Photos to enlarge
Adrian Hybner ... from Sydney Australia trained for 12 months to fulfill his dream of competing in the Molokai Solo, however nothing ... nothing could ever have prepared him for what he was about to experience .... and that was before the race even started.
I'm not going to say any more.
In Adrians own words,
My Molokai 07
Its still dark as I search through the car for a spare set of batteries to replace the ones that have gone dead in my red clip on bike lights. Its 5.30am, its 13 degrees and the sky is just starting to change its colour from a star speckled black to a hint of glowing orange. I reach the water with the canoe on my shoulder, the trip over the cold sand has made my feet welcome the salty warmth of the ocean. Jumping on the canoe I glide past the bombora, feathering with the approaching 3 foot shadowy swells. I spend a few seconds taking it all in as the early offshore wind makes its way over the cresting waves, then I’m off.
For the last 12 months I’ve been getting on the water at any opportunity, doing my best to stick to a stringent training regime which will hopefully place me in the top 20 in the Molokai to Oahu race come Sunday May 20th 2007. It’s this date which my life has revolved around, a goal of mine since I began paddling OC1’s, the goal to compete in the Molokai Solo. The fun of downwind paddling has only sunken the hook of OC1 paddling deeper into my system, and this race was the sports undisputed pinnacle. When I jumped on the plane to Hawaii after so much training, planning, preparation and of course hard earned committed $, I couldn’t have been more excited – like a kid on his first trip to Disneyland.
Hawaii’s a different place, full of culture, great people and a deep history with a direct connection to the ocean. A place which demands respect, yet is there to enjoy for all that visit. This would be my 9th trip to the Islands, (my last being 7 years ago after spending 4 weeks on the North Shore of Oahu competing with the masses for a shot of Pipeline glory). I was glad to be back, and glad to be nearer to something which has committed so much of my time and passion in many ways and for so many years.
Settling in with a few warm up races in Kauai, I was adjusting to the warm weather, a new borrowed canoe, sleeping in, no work, and quality time with my pregnant wife Monique. I kept a note of who was paddling well, trying to gauge myself and my ability. Although a lot of the big names weren’t there, it was obvious Matt Carter was well prepared – winning the first race in front of some well known Hawaiian’s including Mark Fraizer, the Cook Islander Ruben Dearlove, and Schloshy from Moolloolaba. I finished sixth and knew I had a bit left, thinking jet lag was the reason I was only feeling 90%. The next day’s race I watched Schloshy take off chased by Aaron Napoleon and Mark Fraizer with a 20 knot wind behind us. With a tickle in my chest I took off behind them, my body telling me to take it easy, my competitive mind telling me to push over each lump in front of me to catch the next runner. A fourth place for me and a strange suspicion that I was on a downhill slide physically.
The Kauai Relay Race was the next day. I was as crook as but couldn’t let my paddle partner Purlly down. He too had committed a lot of time to this, and I didn’t want to disappoint. I jumped on for the second leg in third last place. Purlly had been doing really well until the front iako came out of its slot no less than 4 times! By the fourth leg we had pulled back a lot of ground but I knew I shouldn’t be on the canoe. At the finish I simply walked up the beach, tried to pack the canoe onto the trailer which was being freighted to Molokai the next day, and then asked my wife to take me to hospital.
I was gone. The doctors initially thought I had Meningitis and did a spinal tap to extract spinal fluid. After 6 attempts, shit loads of pain, 6 IV bags of fluid, copious amounts of morphine, a hit of IV antibiotics and a hit of IV steroids, the results were clear. No meningitis – just viral pneumonia. I was given more drugs and told to rest, the doctors saying that there was a slim chance I could paddle the following weekend in the Solo. Oh Shit.
Back to Oahu and it was sleep, sweat, drugs, fluids, sweat, fluids and more drugs. By Wednesday I was back in the hospital ER, too crook to even go shopping. An xray of my chest confirmed that the pneumonia wasn’t super deep into my lungs. The Dr gave me a 50/50 chance to start the race and prescribed me some more drugs, the head nurse on the other hand saying I had no chance. Two days later we were on the plane to Molokai looking down on the channel in the hope of observing a white cap or two but to no avail.
What a place. Unchanged from 30 years ago, there are no traffic lights, a main street as big as a small country towns’, and an uncanny welcomeness about it. Unlike the other islands, Molokai is relatively flat without similar huge igneous mountains dominating its terrain. Just long rolling hills, which in contrast, are still mountains in their own right. Kaluakoi is where the race starts and is a 20 minute drive from the airport. A golf course resort, it has been weathered by years of minimal attendence and what appears to be financial hardship. Of around 300 villas (all with amazing ocean views), over 100 have been left in degrading circumstances, some with bordered up windows, others with rotted timber stairs and framework. All have overgrown scrappy gardens. A real renovators delight heaven I thought.
The ambience on arrival however, is one of total relaxation. It seems to have a real Kai connection to it. Calming fairways flow to yellow sands surrounded by short, yet dangerous volcanic cliffs before meeting the crystal clear waters of the Pacific and what is to be the course of the race. In the distance you can make out the faint resemblance of what appears to be very dark clouds far far away on the horizon to the west. These “clouds” are in fact the 6000ft cliffs of Oahu. Furthest to the left is the smallest cloud appearing as an island – this is Diamond Head, the simplest straight line mark in which to set your direction for the race. Friday night is whisper quiet, toads hop all over the pathways, and the decision not to turn on your TV in your villa is appreciated. Its such a change from the hustle and bustle of downtown Waikiki, and with only a handful of paddlers settling in for the night, it’s a great opportunity for a good night sleep.
Saturday, the day before the big race. I’m feeling considerably better. Maybe its because the influx of paddlers is creating a vibe of nervous excitement. I search the resort for the canoe trailer from Kauai, its arrived. I find my canoe and quickly take it back to our villa, rig the canoe and reflect on just how much effort I have put in to get here. Relaxing through the day I decide to stay away from other competitors. The forecast of no wind or swell and challenging conditions has pushed a somewhat negative vibe through fellow paddlers. Late afternoon after decaling my canoe with numbers, event sponsors, and logos of those who have assisted me, I decide to go for a light paddle to see how I feel.
After the first ten strokes I know I’m in trouble. The body is unbelievably sore, and my sporadic sweats have come back to haunt me. I paddle lightly for 45 minutes, stopping every 5 minutes to take a drink and have a rest. I try not to think about how far I will get tomorrow or if I should actually start. I enjoy the scenery and fool myself into thinking that I’ll be 100% tomorrow and not the 70% I’m feeling now. I good pasta feed at the race briefing and I’ll be fine.
Race Day. Canoes and skis litter the grassy thoroughfares between villas, paddlers prepare their craft and hydration systems and make last minute checks on anything they are taking with them. Support boats line the cove just off the shoreline, some displaying national flags of the racers they are following. It’s a weird feeling that I have as I kiss Monique before she gets in a taxi to go back to the airport. I tell her I’ll be fine and I’ll see her at the other end in about 5 hours. I am not feeling the best at all but figure if worst comes to worst, I can jump into the support boat when my body fails. Hitting the water I take my first few stokes with a result similar to that of my first few yesterday. This is going to be a long paddle. I look for my support boat which was coming over from Oahu that morning, I’ve been told it’s a 22ft blue hulled boat. That’s easier said than done when there’s 150 boats. 20 minutes before the start my boat arrives, my buddy Purlly says the channel is like what I have been training in at home, no swell and very light winds. I tell him I fell like shit but will give it a crack. “Do a GPS line straight to the finish and make me stick to it” I tell him and the boat captain Jerry.
On the line I have a hint of nervous excitement, I have no idea what is install for me but feel surprisingly relaxed. I have nothing to lose, and am even a little angry at the cards that have been dealt to me in the past week. The hooter sounds and its on. The skis take off and within 5 minutes there are two distinct lines starting to form. One to my right and one infront of me. Within 10 minutes I’m sitting just behind Rowdy who is sitting just behind Millsy. Before long support boats start to dart all over the show, throwing off good wakes as they search for their paddler. It’s the only assistance the ocean seems to be throwing, its actually quite fun and for just a few minutes I forget just how sore and sorry my body is feeling. The pace is fast and after 25 minutes I start missing runners from the support boats. I fall back fast and watch other canoe paddlers pass me like I am standing still. I think to myself “I can’t believe this is as far as I can go” but keep doing the best I can at what is now about 65%. Another 20 minutes and it gets to the stage there are few support boats around and minimal assistance from wash. I tell Purlly I’m stuck in 3rd gear and I can’t do anything about it. I’m hurting all over and have to stop paddling every so often to adjust myself. Paddle in, paddle out, paddle in, paddle out – its all I can do. Its only 1 hour in and I have made what seems to be absolutely no progress on the shadowy mountains of Oahu. I turn to look at Molokai. Its still there in an eerie kind of way, and I realise that all but about ten competitors have passed me. I didn’t care. There was simply nothing I could do, my body was in shut down mode so I figured I’d enjoy the ride.
The water is so clear and cobalt blue, the occasional algal colony passes under your feet, and the swell non-existent. The sky is all but clear blue with a handful of high level cirrus clouds acting to filter the hash suns rays which are now beaming down on me at 29 degrees C. Its now been well over 2 hours. My drink pack is almost empty and with the last few drops left I wash down one of the 8 energy gels I have taped to my canoe. I signal to Purlly that I need my pack refilled. Jerry, my boat driver comes within 3 ft of the canoe as I through my pack to Purlly. I had first met Jerry on the start line and he seemed excited about the expedition after Purlly had talked me up on the way over from Oahu. He had even raised the Aussie flag for the trip. By this time though, I could tell Jerry was over it and that I was proving to be a hoax. Purlly refilled my pack with ice cold Gatorade, threw it back to me and off I continued.
Shit, “whats that” I thought, and within 5 minutes of getting my pack on, my body started to respond. Up to 70% then 80 followed by 90, then within what seamed to be 30 seconds, I’m up to 100%, running on all cylinders and then some. The wind had turned into a 5-8 knot headwind by now though there seemed to be a few more smaller runners coming in various directions but heading mainly towards Oahu. About bloody time! I took off and actually got excited. I was that far behind anyone but just put my head down and paddled. I set my sights on the support boat in front of me, about 800m or so. Within what seemed about 20 minutes I had caught it, actually pushing hard onto the runs, leaning back and even stoping paddling on a few. I figured I should have a bit of fun and went within a few feet of the paddler and surfed past him on a runner like he was standing still. Later, Purlly told me the guy just looked at me and shook his head!
Each paddler passed and another into the sites. I was in my grove and feeling the best I had since the first race in Kauai. For the next 3 hours I had what seemed and endless stream of adrenalin, I was enjoying every stroke and end up passing about 15 people. I got a real buzz when a TV helicopter hovered over me at about 80 ft, the jet fuel providing even a bigger catalyst to the rush I was having. I glanced at the support boat and could actually see Jerry getting excited.
Before long I was nearing the East side of Oahu and the windward side of Hawaii Kai. I gave it everything for the next 45 minutes, concentrating hard on reading the minute swells, which had changed direction to be more head on.
That section was such a mental barrier. Some paddlers chose to go in closer, while others, including myself stayed wider. Every now and again I would look towards land and it seemed that despite the effort I was seemingly in the same spot. Was it currents or just me? Purlly said just keep going and I’m still making good ground. Diamond Head was well and truly in site by now with more paddlers for me to pass en route. Nearing Diamond Head the weathered and worn body was tiring - it was tiring fast. I had had all my energy gels by now and my teeth were killing me from all the acidic Gatorade I had consumed. And **** my hands and shoulders were hurting!
From there I dropped back to a slower pace, the same pace as the guy in front of me (who turned out to be Tapa Worthington). Before long I could see the finish line, and thankfully for me I had paddled this part of the race before on the first day I had arrived in Oahu. Rounding the outer can, I realised that there was actually a good 4ft of surf breaking through the channel! Turning around I picked a wave behind me, but at that moment I realised I was already on one in front of it. Ama up and surfing! The first real runner for the race! Looking both sides of me I saw the wave was breaking. Trying to read it the best I could with blurry vision (from the sun exposure during the race), I surfed it and another smaller wave to get to within 50m of the line. Shit I had come a long way, and at that moment I heard my wife sing out to me and the crowd started to clap and cheer. I had crossed the finish line! Holy shit, that was one long hard mentally draining paddle, but I made it!
Hitting the beach with cameras in my face, Rowdy grabbed my canoe and walked it up the beach. He congratulated me and told me both he and Millsy had pulled out after I asked him how he went. I asked about who had won. Kai first, Longy second! As soon as I finished I couldn’t stop smiling, but hearing that just made everything that more surreal. The atmosphere was amazing, those that finished had a radiant glow about them, and those that had competed and had given it their all were deep in conversation with others talking story of their experience while sucking down Steinlargers. A few minutes later Purlly hit the beach from the support boat. He recon’d I did well to finish and thought I was gone after 1 hour! He said listening to the CB radio on the support boat told a true story as the race was unfolding. Paddler after paddler had withdrawn and he hadn’t told me! That I’ll forever be appreciative of.
Walking back to our hotel, Monique asked me if I would do it again, already knowing the answer! She said "you have to come back don’t you? You have to give it another proper go!" She was right. Despite all the hurdles, this moment was worth everything we had both sacrificed for it. An amazing journey that started those many months ago, an amazing journey which we will no doubt take again!
PS - by the way it took me 7 hours and 7 minutes to finish!
_________________
Slug (Adrian Hybner)
All Adrians photos can be seen here http://www.flickr.com/photos/8818819@N08/sets/72157600479049364/
Leave Adrian a message - Click on Comments below
Labels:
Molokai
We had hundreds of runs like this the whole way and some big SAVES. Just to keep Clarkie happy we even portaged 200metres crossing the bar at Currumbin Ck (low tide).
Newer Posts