Originally featured in Outer Edge magazine.
Many years ago, when the Easter Offshore music festival raged through what was then the relatively sleepy surf-coast hamlet of Torquay in Victoria, Australia, local paddler Tim Altman had something to do with the land on which the festival was held. We were junior members of Torquay surf club down from the city doing our mandatory beach patrol duties. Tim was one of the club’s senior gun paddlers. The girls – it’s always girls who hatch these schemes – wondered if we could get through security and into the rock-star chill out area using nothing but judicious name-dropping and haughty attitudes.
There were three checkpoints, we made it through the first two and approached the third. We could see Lenny Kravitz strolling about not far off. The side window was rolled down in response to a rapping knuckle from outside. A huge mug loomed from a great height and peered inside. “Who are you?” the massive face enquired. Who indeed. No one had planned for this; we hadn’t really expected to get this far. “We’re with the Altmans,” was the hastily blurted response. “Who are the Altmans?” came the crushing answer. The jig was up, our chance to sample the fabled delights of backstage rock-star shenanigans was ruined due to an outsourcing of security. He obviously wasn’t from the surf coast – any local security goon would have known who Tim Altman was, he’d been paddling the ocean swell around there for years.
In the passage of time between then and now, Tim has gone on to represent Australia as an elite paddler at various World Championships and more recently, with his competition days largely behind him, worked as the paddling coach at the illustrious Mercantile kayak club in central Melbourne.
Around January this year, Tim’s mate Jeff Sweeney mentioned that participating in the Molokai World Championships was on his ‘bucket list’ and asked if he’d be interested in joining him. Jeff’s enthusiasm was so infectious that, helplessly seduced, Tim said yes without much hesitation.
“All serious ocean-going paddlers want to complete the Molokai trip,” Tim tells me.
The Molokai has an almost spiritual aura linked to its heritage links with indigenous Hawaiian culture. For centuries Hawaiians have used ocean-going paddle powered craft to commute between islands. The Molokai race is a direct tribute to indigenous Hawaiian ancestry – a homage of sorts to those who first paddled. It’s a massive race, spanning 52 kilometres from Molokai Island across the Kaiwi Channel to Oahu. The best paddlers in the world take three and a half hours to finish. Those who aren’t among the best are advised to think carefully about entering.
Tim hadn’t raced or trained properly for years, so was naturally cautious. He always found competition fun – it had, after all, been a large part of his life – but he liked to paddle well, and new he’d be very competitive once the race began. He wasn’t sure if he’d find this enjoyable or not. Other aspects of Tim’s life, especially his keen interest in yoga and meditation, had led him towards a life philosophy far removed from the urgent, results obsessed ultra-competitiveness that characterised his time as an elite paddler.
“The Molokai isn’t something you approach half heartedly. You’re basically heading out into the open sea where there can be strong unpredictable currents and dreadful weather. Often you completely lose sight of land and literally feel you’re in the middle of the ocean,” Tim tells me.
Another mate of Tim’s, Bruce Dunlop, decided to join them. He had been a national level paddler back in his day, was very no-nonsense about training and not shy of hard work. Another mate, Andrew Sargeant also decided to commit and soon there were two little squads down on the Victorian surf coast.
“The majority of the sessions were on the ocean, but we also did one or two kayak sessions each week. The occasional river paddle allowed us to focus on stroke technique and boat run,” Tim explains.
In the weeks leading up to the race Tim started to feel fitness he hadn’t experienced since 1990 when he was in the Australian senior sprint kayak team.
“The great thing about being so fit,” he says, “is that paddling becomes an absolute pleasure. The ‘feel’ for the water you develop is incredible and I felt so fast – but I was also tired from the solid lead-up blocks of work.”
As none of them had ever done anything like the Molokai before, they sought advice from both locals and Australians who had done it before. The main gist of the advice: conserve energy levels; definitely don’t go out too hard; closely manage the heat; keenly monitor hydration and feeding requirements on the day.
They were naturally nervous on the morning of the race but the commute to the start line provided an unexpected distraction from stomach butterflies. It included a light plane trip to Molokai – however when they arrived late to the airport after a gridlocked taxi ride, the pilot was nowhere to be seen. Ten minutes later a bloke appeared looking like he’d come straight from a nightclub. He was the pilot, the plane’s tank was empty and he hadn’t any money for fuel.
After a bit of chest beating, some unvarnished words and a dash to the petrol station, the empty tank was filled and they finally lifted into the air. They were able to finally relax and study the racecourse from 1500 feet – conditions looked good – a light to medium 10 to15 knot cross tail breeze would be blowing from over their right shoulders. Not epic conditions, but good. They sat back and readied themselves.
Given the favourable downwind forecast, a few extra competitors, including 11 time winner Oscar Chalupsky and nine time winner Dean Gardiner, decided to lodge last minute entries, making it one of the best fields ever to enter the race. The usual self-doubt began to creep in. It was this type of competition-induced anxiety that Tim wanted to avoid.
However Tim had prepared for this. He was determined to enjoy himself above all and to keep his competitive instincts in check.
“Looking out that plane window, seeing the amazing blue water of the sea around Hawaii, it looked so beautiful. It reminded me why I ultimately love to paddle – it’s simply the best way to see the world.
“Paddling is all about the journey, there’s no doubt about it, and that was the main part of the Molokai gig for me,” Tim says. “I was out in the channel thinking about my position and where other people were, but then I just said, ‘stuff this!’ this is amazing water, there were some good runs so I thought ‘I’m going to have fun,’ so I just caught runs for three hours, and when I started doing that, I ended up settling down and going past people”.
Tim refocussed; reminded himself how lucky he was to be paddling across a famous stretch of sapphire blue water, in possibly the most famous paddle race in the world that, in all likelihood, he might never experience again. With anxieties in check, he began to gain on a paddler who was a few hundred metres in front of him and was sufficiently buoyed in confidence to lift another notch. Oahu was now clearly visible ahead of him.
Sometime after the two-and-a-half hours mark, a pod of dolphins appeared and followed him for ten minutes. They jumped out of the water repeatedly around his craft. Initially he thought they were turtles, but when a grey cylinder-like shape streaked quickly in front of him, he new it was something else. It turned, came back towards him and leapt out of the water, confirming that it was not the shark he’d started to worry it might be. He relaxed and enjoyed the company for a while before getting back to milking the swells.
“The color of the water in Hawaii blew me away. It was so blue, a deep blue color that I’ve never seen anywhere else. It was like a big blue dream out there, especially in those moments when I bottomed out between ocean swells and was surrounded by walls of ocean,” he explains.
Although he was starting to fatigue a little, he caught the paddler in front of him and made it past the infamous China Wall on Oahu. Rounding Port Lock, he caught a small run next to the rocks and first heard the cheering and clapping from the spectators who’d come down to watch the finish.
The final one-and-a-half kilometres to the finish line inside the point in the flat was the hardest part of the race. They had to swing around and head straight into the breeze.
“It was the only part of the race that wasn’t much fun. I just put my head down and kept my tempo up and ground away to the line,” he says
He placed 10th overall of the single ski paddlers and 4th in his age group (40-49 years). Although subsequently, to his surprise, he was awarded the age group trophy for first after discovering the first three in his division were in the top six overall, and so were elevated into the elite field courtesy of their overall result.
The guru had prevailed.
“In the end I wasn’t even aware of any other paddlers. When I was out in that open channel, sometimes losing sight of Oahu all together, I was in the zone. It was magnificent – both peaceful and powerful at the same time.
“Looking back at the race, I’m very happy with my result and feel I’d like to have another crack at it next year. I loved being fit and with another year of experience under my belt, I reckon it’d be an even better experience – it’s always good to have an objective. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a competitive objective, but if you do end up competing well,” he pauses, reflecting on the previous hour’s conversation that suggested competition wasn’t actually important, “well, that’s a bonus,” he concludes, smiling.
It’s a benefit of experience and the enlightenment it affords: inner peace is fundamental to great performance.
