Mint Kevlar Legend For Sale, $2500

I have 3 Legends now. This one was one of the first batches of Legends produced so is weighs 32lbs. Very durable, more stable than my carbon version and other kevlar version. Mint conditon. Check out reviews and race results to get since of speed and stability. Contact me at 401-864-8196, or wesley@surfskiracing.com

Skis For Everyone

We are fortunate that over the years the ski manufacturers have come out with some new models or have made improvements over previous models. Now there is a ski for everyone. So if you are a just getting into skis, looking for a more comfortable ski, looking for a faster ski, or the combination of more comfortable and faster, there is a ski for you.

While I am always envious of the paddlers that can comfortably paddle in raging wind and surf, I am reminded that most of us paddle in the conditions that are most available to us depending on where we live and what kinds of water we are constantly exposed to. Around here in New England and where I live in Newport, Rhode Island, I paddle predomintly on Narragannsett Bay, the Sakonnet River(bay like), and Rhode Island Sound. While the conditions can be challenging, most often they are in the range of flat to 2-3ft seas with enough variety to keep things interesting. If we want true flatwater, we have access to a few rivers including the Narrow, Charles, and Sudbury Rivers.

While it would certainly be a more comprehesive review of the skis to critique them in every type of water, I can only critique them in the water I have available to me most of the time. I have paddled them in enough different types of water to be able to comment on them, except for the huge water that is often reserved for the West Coast paddlers, and other parts of the world. My guess is that most skis don't handle that much differently in 3ft seas or 6ft seas. The "feel" would be similiar.

So when looking for a ski, considerations are 1. fit, 2. purpose of buying a ski, 3. type of water you predomintly paddle in, and 4. cost.

Kirton Tor For Sale, Kevlar/Carbon Weave. 22lbs Mint Condition. Rarely paddled. Understern rudder, floor seat, 2 airbags, Footpump, 2 footplates(1/2 and full), Kayakpro Cockpit cover, Kayakpro zippered skirt. $2100.00

The Tor is one of the fastest, stable K1's. Superb cutaway catch area, fits almost everyone, very comfortable. This is my 3rd Tor.



My paddling time is spent exclusively in surfskis now so selling my Tor. Contact Wesley Echols 401-864-8196 or wechols@cox.net

Crash B's Recap: To the Wall and Beyond

“GO! GO! Dig for it! Only five hundred meters left! I think you can do it!” Kirsten, my personal Harvard Rowing Team coxswain, was screaming in my ear. ‘You think I can do it?’ I thought to myself feebly, feeling like ‘The Little Engine That Was Under the Impression He Could, Only to Be Informed Maybe He Really Couldn’t.’ Fixated on the slowly diminishing numbers on the PM3 monitor on the Concept II, every muscle was on fire, and my legs were going south, bent on a nice retirement village in West Palm.

This was the scene at the 2009 World Indoor Rowing Championships (Crash B's), held Sunday, February 22 at the Agganis Arena at Boston University in Boston, MA. Rowers from the world over congregated to see how fast they could spin a flywheel over 2000m, their progress projected for the audience in the form of tiny boats racing one another on the dropdown scoreboard. High School, Collegiate, Affiliated, Unaffiliated…it didn’t matter…as long as you went to the wall, and beyond, in your race against the clock.

My connection to the Crash Bs began in my local rec center gym. The Concept II ergometer often sat unused in the corner, or in the rare case that someone did climb on, they’d last maybe five minutes, before stumbling off, dazed, red faced, and panting, and wobble their way to the safety of the boutique fitness equipment, anything with a little tv screen to watch their favorite cooking show, or catch up on the latest episode of ‘Oprah.’ No stranger to the rigors of sensory deprivation on a wind trainer during my bike racing days, the Concept II was time efficient, and provided one bejeezus of a whole body workout. I’d go for 45 minutes to an hour, flailing away with terrible form with the damper set on level 10. Eventually, I developed some rudimentary technique, and was amazed at how fit I could come into the early season races by virtue of this object of torture.

My buddy Wesley shared that he too, used the erg as a choice form of suffering and recruited me into the Crash Bs. Last year was my induction into the hallowed ranks of pain, and I was joined by not only Wesley ‘I’ve Trained 364 Days Straight In a Row’ Echols, but good friends Tim ‘Have You Tasted My Magic Bars?’ Dwyer, and Sean ‘Someone Call a Medic!’ Milano. Like childbirth, I suppose, the mind plays tricks on its owner, blocking the actual pain of past events from memory, hence our registration for this year as well. Joined by Chris ‘The Webmaster’ Chappell, and Sean’s friend, Langdon 'The Marine' Andrews, we were prepared to suffer once again.

Chris, it was clear, was the cream of the crop. He uses the Concept II regularly. His daughter rows crew for her high school team, and would be competing along with Dad for this year’s event. We showed up on this cold and rainy February day to test the prowess of surfski/kayak racers against the people who row backwards and actually enjoy it.

Upon check in, every person looked fitter than the next. Unlike the lithe surfski crowd, the rowers are massive…ripped quads and backs like barns everywhere. And these were just the women. You check in, get your yellow card that displays your start time, row letter, and erg number, and marvel at how humid and oppressive the body heat of multitudes of sweaty individuals can alter the biome of the arena. The warm up/staging area is a microcosm of international competitors from everywhere of every age. My neighbor on the erg next to me was doing a steady 1:30. It was all I could do to even get to a 1:30 for several strokes. The four of us warmed up as our heat time drew closer. Good and dripping, we presented our golden tickets to Willy Wonka at the gate of the competitor’s section and were ushered in, finding our ergs.

I had requested a coxswain as I’m not a huge fan of suffering based on my own fortitude; I fold like a cheap umbrella. “What's your preference?” this young, tawny-haired female rower asked, “I mean, what do you like?” “Hmm… I thought, “I love little oily baby geese, evenings at the beach, ‘The Princess Bride’…’ but then realized she wanted to know how to verbally coach me. My game plan was to treat the distance like four 500m segments. I’d take four or five quick strokes to spin the flywheel up to speed and then hold it there for the next 500m or so before settling in, hoping to kick it in the last 500 with a little something left in my tank.

The monitors were all synchronized, and the screen commands flashed: ‘Sit ready.’ ‘Attention.’ ‘Row!’ We were off! The first 500 flies by, your adrenaline pumping, and the spectators are screaming. The next 500 not so bad, but you begin to feel the opening strains of lactic acid starting to build as you round 1000. This for me is always ‘No Man’s Land’, too far to consider keeping the pace consistently hard, but yet so far along that you just can’t give up now. At 500m left, Kirsten was screaming in my ear. At 300m she was, I think, actually IN my ear, ragging me like a terrier to pull harder. HARDER! “Just 30 more strokes! You can DO this!!!” The last 200 were sheer pain, my legs reduced to quivering masses of Jell-O, slamming the handle back into my sternum and lower stomach with each pull. And then, Thank God, it was over, my HR hovering somewhere close to the 180 mark, 7:06.6 flashing on the readout. Glancing again at the screen between ragged breaths, I spotted Sean’s name immediately behind mine and knew he had either succumbed to the fever he had been fighting off, or perhaps the burrito the size of a rugby ball we had each both consumed a couple of hours earlier (I tasted cilantro at 700 meters.). He managed a blazing 7:08 flat; I had edged him by 1.4 seconds in the final 50 meters. Last year he spanked me royally, cracking the vaunted 7 minute mark with a 6:58, so he was bound to not be happy about that. Uh oh...

Chris, as anticipated, rocked out loud, with a 6:47.9. He had spotted the name of his college buddy on the screen meters ahead of him, and turned up the wick several notches more to outsprint him in the final meters. Wesley ‘Call Me Mr. Overtraining’, turned in a very respectable 7:22.7, despite having paddled 12 miles the day before with Timo. ;) Langdon, too, turned in a personal best at 7:28.1, this being his first ever competition, along with Chris. You can watch the little boats do battle at http://www.concept2.com/us/racing/crashb/replays2009.asp

Sean, once again, however, put the ‘Crash and Burn’ back into the Crash Bs. With the assistance of two ice packs, and some time on the concrete arena floor, he bounced back enough to have his photos taken for posterity. This man goes to the wall, and crashes through time and time again! As we left the arena, there was already talk of how we all hoped to improve upon our times next year, even though we solemnly vowed to not so much as look at the Concept II machine again until December. It was a fine and pleasant misery...

Crash B's World Indoor Rowing Championships

For the past five years, as part of my offseason training for surfski racing, I have participated in the World Indoor Rowing Championships in Boston, Massachusetts. Anyone can enter by registering and then you are placed into age groups and heats depending on your predicted 2K time.

Rowers from all over the world come to participate. Roughly 2000 people will participate in all ages. Last year I talked Mark Ceconi, Sean Milano, and Tim Dwyer to join in the pain. 2K is a full on sprint that can last anywhere from 5.30-6.30 minutes for the worlds best men, to 6.30-7.30 for the mid packers like we are. Erging as it is called, is probably the best overall workout there is. If you have not tried one, give it shot!

This year Mark, Sean, myself and newcomer Chris Chappell(web master) will participate on February 22. Chris has logged in more time on the erg than all of us put together but he has never done the Crash B's. Stay tuned to see how we all make out. Will we beat our times from last year? Will we have a new leader among our group? Will Sean hold on to his title before passing out? Will it be more painful than last year? Will Chris(the big guy) dominate the field? Will Mark's kayak erging pay dividends on the rowing erg? Will I limp home in last place again?

Wesley

Montara Fog Video Clip

Check out the Links page. The Montara Fog video clip of Kenny Howard set to music really puts you in the spirit. Wesley

Carbon Legend

I have been out in my carbon Legend for 4 times now since I got it last week. The conditions were flat. That is the preference in the 20-40 degree air temperature and 37 degree water temperature here on the Sakonnet River. Yesterday I took the exact measurements of my padding in my Kevlar Legend and applied the same padding in the waist and where my calves are for a nice fit in the carbon Legend.

The carbon legend is super light at a stated weight of 22lbs. It is the lightest boat in my fleet now. Although light, it is super stiff and seems substantial for a carbon ski. Like all super light skis, they are more tender than the same model in Kevlar or glass. The Carbon Legend is no exception. It moves around more than the Kevlar version so it is not quite as stable. While I can get away with the 6 inch rudder in the Kevlar version in all conditions, the carbon version in conditions will need the newer rudder that will be out in the next month or so. A larger rudder should settle the boat down more and improve the already great tracking qualities of the Legends.

The lightness of the boat is very noticeable in regard to speed. Bumps are easier to catch and less effort is needed to paddle faster which is why I bought the carbon version. See the Kevlar Legend Review on the web site for more info on the Legend.

Boat Maintenance

A V10 Sport spans the length of my family room carpet. It appears both bizarrely out of place and curiously at home at the same time. It's winter here in NE, an inch and a half of boilerplate ice has turned my driveway into a skating rink, and the early vestiges of cabin fever are beginning to set in. All eyes are on Punxsatawney Phil next week, fingers crossed that it will be a cloudy day...

It's maintenance time in the Ceconi household, and boat after boat waits its turn to be shouldered in through the garage door to take the spot of another, carefully maneuvered to fit alongside the fireplace-too gosh darned cold in the garage. This current patient, a favor for a friend, is in for a routine 'rudderdectomy' to remove the stock pin, free and lube the shaft, epoxy on a weedguard, and apply 3M clear protective film to the strike zones on the cockpit sills.

Next up is the Westside Boatshop EFT. It's slated for a pullbar addition to the suh-weet carbon footbrace assembly from Pat at Onnopaddles. Taking advantage of its appointment, the doctor on call may recommend some early preventative maintenance by switching out the understern rudder for the overstern, with an eye toward the Run of the Charles Race in April.

Holding the next deli counter number ticket is the fully flamed Huki S1-R. Jude's gelcoat crew are masters of graphics, and the boat literally seems ablaze, living up to its moniker' Ring of Fire,' appropriately named after Johnny Cash's infamous lovers' lament. She's up for some footstrap retooling, and a couple of coats of Marine PTEF wax to keep her vivid hues burning.

The 'chickenboat' Epic 18's ToePilot rudder pedal tracks could use replacement hardware, so that may be the next candidate on the card. Or maybe one of the tandems, for cable checks and the omnipresent application of more coats of UV protection. The list goes on...

There's something awfully satisfying about maintaining your paddlecraft. as there is with any conveyance, be it a boat, bicycle, or Bugatti, disassembling and reassembling parts so they snick together flawlessly, padding out seatwells for a better fit, and retying the %$#@ knots in brand spanking new Spectra line, so the push of a footpedal sends a weed shedding 9" rudder through the full swing of its travel with unerring smoothness.

Yup, it's wintertime, maintenance time, and it helps to make the days go faster till ice out and the first winter thaw. The boats take their places, one by one, waiting patiently with a magazine for their names to be called by the receptionist in the third garage, no HMO required.

Snow Row February 28, Hull, Mass, 11am

I got word via email that the Snow Row is February 28, 11:00, Saturday this year. The Hull Museum site last I checked, has not been updated from last year. I tried to verify a second time with another email but no response. If you have more info please post on the web group. Wesley

Carbon Legend

I have paddled my new carbon legend for the past 2 days. Watch for the updated review in the next few days. Wesley

Suiting Up for Winter Surfski Paddling

(Or the Return of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man)

The alarm clock rings accusingly at 6:30 AM on a balmy 28 degree Saturday, and an icy wind is already lashing the treetops across a dull gray sky, as I force open one eye and peer sideways out through the crack in the curtains. On the fourth ring I slap it silent, and consider rolling over again, pretending this never happened. Reluctantly, I swing out of bed, wincing as my heels contact the cold hardwood, and hobble courtesy of a matching set of heel spurs to the hulking pile of thermal wear laid out on the blanket chest the night before. I can hear the coffee gurgling in the final throes of brewing out in the kitchen. Even the dog stays curled up on my daughter’s bed, demonstrating far more common sense than I on this cold January morning in New England.

In a pre-caffeinated stupor, I slide into the neoprene paddling shorts, the rubberized thigh bands painfully catching and pulling the leg hair of my thighs. Wiggling both feet into scratchy wool socks, I pull on my thermal cycling tights, followed by neoprene booties. Next comes a wicking layer of polypro, then a NRS long sleeve Hydroskin, followed by a Polarfleece over that. The house is cold, but I’m not, encased in my little synthetic cocoon as I shuffle to the kitchen for a steaming cup of coffee, to grab a banana and a Mojo Bar. Gauging the amount of layers required is tricky; better to be on the warmer side and risk making one’s own gravy within the drysuit like a bag of Birds Eye vegetables, versus becoming a human popsicle via hypothermia.

I fire up my computer, checking hopefully for some cancellation on the part of the three other crazies I call ‘friends’, likely in the midst of their own morning rituals, who will soon be joining me for our usual weekend paddle out on Long Island Sound. No dice, we’re on. Checking the NOAA forecast, it looks like a fine day to be on the water-29 degrees, with southeast winds at 15-20 and an outgoing tide, flurries predicted.

Downstairs in the garage, I rifle through my bin of paddlegear, mentally checking off the stuff I need: pfd, Aquapak case for cell phone, silk liners, neoprene gloves, wool cap, neck gaiter, neoprene hood…and just to be sure, throw in a last minute assortment of clothing and other possible items that might be needed by me or lent out, should someone have a lapse in their own mental checklist and leave something important at home. Opening up the garage door to a frigid blast of air, I hump the bin into the back of my CR-V, sliding the wing paddle between the seats. The engine cranks slowly twice in disbelief, then catches quickly. Twisting the heat knob on full, I leave the car to warm up a bit as I go to fetch my boat.

By the time I hoist my Huki S1-R onto the Thule cradles and get the first strap on, my hands are already numb and ineffective. By blowing on them and tucking them under my armpits, I’m able to retain enough feeling to get both straps on and the ski cinched down. Back into the house I go for thawing and the final donning (Pause for dramatic music for emphasis…) of the drysuit.

This part is always a whole lot of fun, and deserves an audience for the theatrics involved. Stepping into the garish mango and cobalt Spaceman Spiff costume makes me feel as if I’m trying to relive some childhood Halloween of years gone by. First, the feet slip into the integrated booties, calling to mind memories of my first pair of Doctor Denton footsie pajamas. Snapping my hands through the neoprene wrist cuffs of the sleeves, the final step is to force my head through the neck cuff (flashbacks of my trip through the birth canal, long, long ago. Push! Push! ) Grunting and tugging at the rubberized zipper, I finally jerk it closed across me, struggling at the awkward angle and the last inch and a half required to seal it up. On go the neoprene water shoes over the booties of the drysuit.

Filled with air like some bizarre Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, I resemble the Stay Puft Marshmallow man from ‘Ghostbusters.’ The family room is my stage. Performing an award winning reenactment of the ‘Hava Nagila’ from ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ the show continues with me squatting and leaping into the air whilst holding the neck cuff open to ‘burp’ the suit of all air bubbles. With a slow squat and a final ‘Hisssssssssssssssssssss!’ my suit has been purged of all trapped gases; it seems vacuum packed to my body via negative air pressure. I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror with a wool beanie cap on going out the door, looking like a cross between Bozo the clown and an Alaskan king crab fisherman from season 1 of ‘The Deadliest Catch.’

It’s forty minutes to Greenwich, and I’ve a careful eye on the ski through the moonroof, as side gusts attempt to rip it sideways on the open sections of I95. Passing motorists stare upwards at my red and mango colored ski, replete with black flames, the red warning flag fluttering like the tail of some fishing lure. I imagine I see the word ‘l-u-n-a-t-i-c’ mouthed more than once as I make my way to the boat launch. Pulling into the lot, I spy a Fenn Elite on stands outside the bay doors of the boathouse sporting 'MensHealth' and 'surfski.info' decalia. Big Jim stands by the side door warming up with slow torso rotations, his wing resting across the span of his shoulders. The corrugated bay door opens with a metallic clanking sound, and the nose of a V10Sport emerges into the light, shouldered by Steve (aka: 'Rocky IV' "He is like a piece of iron."). Dubai Tommy's unloading his TwoGood Mako Pro across the lot, the boat once paddled by none other than the venerable Greg Barton himself in the Surfski Championships in SanFran. Looking down over the fencing to the marina below reveals a thin sheen of ice along the docks, and at the very end, open water of the Mianus River. It's choppy here already, signaling a herd of 'white horses' awaiting out beyond the harbor. Another day, and the fresh beginnings of another winter paddle in the northeast…

~Mark Ceconi