I grew up in eastern New York, amidst 800+ acres of dense, hearty forest. During the winter when the oaks, sugar maples, and tulip trees are bare, there is a clear view to a glacial lake down the hill through the western windows. I grew up swimming in this lake, later canoeing, and when I turned twelve, I got my first kayak, a blue 9’ Perception Swifty from Eastern Mountain Sports in Danbury, CT. To me, this brought on what has become a persevering passion for paddling.
As a young person, I took every opportunity to kayak, canoe, whitewater raft, and swim. This included everything from rafting the Delaware River with my Girl scout troop to a week-long paddling expedition through the Marble Canyons of Utah’s Green River during summer camp.
I didn’t buy my first paddle board until 2014, ten years after the sport was introduced. Being an 11’6 BicSport, 34” wide with a planeing hull, my first board was extremely stable and I could practice yoga flows without too much difficulty. I promptly used it five or six times before the winter, then several times the next summer. Running was a huge part of my life at this time, sequestering all of my attention, and I wasn’t getting out onto the water very often.
That March, I brought my lightly used BicSport 3,450 miles west to Portland, OR, and left it in storage until two years later when I put it back up on my car to return east to NY. At this point, having driven my board quite pointlessly through Utah and Colorado’s canyonlands, across the flats of Nevada and Iowa, and over the saw-toothed mountain-hills of Appalachia, I stored it for another long winter in NY.
Not a strong start, and I never would have imagined that SUP boarding would become not only a passion, but admittedly, an obsession.
If I think for an instant back to this spring, I recollect immediately the pure joy in my face as I turned it up to the sun and for the first time in months, felt it actually warm my skin. The early wildflowers were pushing up through the soil, animals were beginning to venture out of their hideaways, and in an attempt to feel a more acute connection to the budding nature around me, I put on a swim suit and spent several lazy, blissful hours drifting around the lake on my SUP.
While I was generally fit, I was thin and pale. My muscles were for the most part unpracticed and undefined after the enduring New York winter. I had snowshoed and skied, sure, winter camped even, but these are sports I’ve never done consistently. Many days I’d spend the afternoon’s peak running on frozen trails, but while I absolutely do have a runner’s mentality, it’s always worn my body down. Often, mentality aside, I’d get strung up from pepping myself into starting an activity that would demand an hour or two of vigorous focus just to persevere.
On the lake, I got the connection I was looking for, and I began to paddle several times a week, then every day, and as I became adjusted, up to twelve times a week. I paddled not only on flat water, but the swelling water of Long Island Sound, brackish river outlets, wake-filled boat channels, and rushing tidal creeks. While my initial focus was on leisure and balance, I soon began running myself through drills to improve mobility and speed, moving with weight on the paddle and engaging my shoulders and back as I quickly transferred it between hands. I began struggling to maintain my weight at this point, and ultimately added over 1,000 daily calories to my diet, many of those from ketogenic foods for their high fat and protein content. Now acclimating more smoothly, I began to experiment with footing, standing farther back on the board, engaging my legs and feet to distribute my balance just so. I found I could drop the tail all the way into the lakebed without falling, and pivot on a blink. My board began to move as my extension, and we learned to communicate.
At this point, I was riding every board I could get my hands on, and honing in on my style and expectations. I bought a very different SUP, the 8’6 Naish Hokua GTW. At 18.75” wide and only 105 liters, the Hokua is designed for surfing and is not known for its stability. However, as a very lightweight and somewhat experienced rider, this board talks to me in a way no higher volume board has. It is extremely responsive: if I move my foot back more than 10-12” the whole tail drops, but it is vocal too. Before the rocker responds, there’s this feeling of low gear, and though it is hard to explain, it is a stable place in which I can adjust. This is the single to double concave shape underneath (this makes the board pick up speed and stability on a wave by spreading the passing water out under the widest part of the board).
I sold my Bic Sport AceTec, and replaced it with a 10’ by 32” Tom Carroll Outer Reef Paddle Surf. With a pointed nose to cut the water rather than slapping against its surface, this board picks up speed when it tracks and lets me throw it around into maneuvers without much effort.
My style on the water is inspired by kayak rodeos, sandy-bottomed beaches, and boat wakes. It is reminiscent of island camping but also cutting through severe Atlantic chop. Swift tidal creeks spur me on heedlessly and I’ve been testing the waters on river paddling. I chase waves and am learning to catch them. When I sleep, I sometimes wake myself abruptly because in my dreams, I am on my board and about to fall off. I carry with me always the residual feel of rolling swells no matter if I’m firmly landlocked.
Some days, I drift with the breeze, stretched out under the sun in a SUP yoga flow. I occasionally hone my attention on a specific muscle group and paddle for fitness. Other times, I paddle to forget: within minutes of hopping onto a SUP board, regardless of my daily baggage, my laughter bubbles over at the pure joy of it. I release tension, anxiety, and stress through the smooth motions of my paddle; the dip, sweep, drag, release and reposition becoming hypnotic, as I work methodically through my troubles. This is where I go to reset.
of the water and the sea 