Rock2Rock 2026: The Road to the Catalina Classic

 

A Year of Progress

If you had asked me in May of last year if I'd ever paddle 22 miles across the Catalina Channel on a prone paddleboard, I would've laughed.

"No way. No how."

At that point, I hadn't even been on a prone paddleboard. Everything changed in June. I borrowed a friend's 12-foot stock board for a two-mile race hosted by the South Bay Boardriders Club. Somewhere between that first race, dozens of miles of paddling, surfing, and taking lessons from DJ and Kurt at Oceans Prone, I fell in love with the sport. I spent June logging about 60 miles in the ocean and somehow managed to win my division in both South Bay Boardriders Club paddle races.

Then came an opportunity I never expected. LZ had designed the trophies for the Rock2Rock race, and while Matt Walls was picking them up, I casually mentioned that I'd love to race on a relay team if anyone needed another paddler. A few days later I was on a team.

Looking back now, it's funny how quickly everything happened. One month after my first prone paddle, I was standing on Catalina Island preparing to cross the channel. I barely knew what I was doing. Everything was new. The ferry ride. The race check-in. Sleeping on an escort boat. Meeting my teammates. Learning how relay exchanges worked. Trying to pace myself for three-mile efforts while crossing one of the most famous stretches of water in California.

I remember being nervous. I remember chasing down my friend Steve during my final leg and sprinting to the finish. Most of all, I remember crossing the finish line thinking I'd just experienced one of the greatest adventures of my life. I had no idea that race would completely change the direction of my paddling.

One Year Later

Fast forward a year. Last weekend before the race I paddled another 22 miles. The weekend before that I paddled 20. This year, every mile has been part of preparing for something even bigger—the Catalina Classic on August 30th. Training for the Classic has become a huge part of my life. Long paddles. Early mornings. Recovery days. Planning. Nutrition. Mental preparation. It's a level of commitment I never imagined making a year ago.

I knew I wanted to race Rock2Rock again. Originally, I wanted to paddle the entire crossing solo, but I couldn't line up an escort boat. Instead, I decided to race another relay. At first I was disappointed. Then I realized it might actually be the smarter decision. Rock2Rock could become my dress rehearsal for the Catalina Classic. I'd get another chance to experience race weekend, practice all the logistics, start the race, work with an escort boat, and learn things that would make me more successful in August.

Making that decision wasn't easy. It meant missing my sister's 50th birthday party. Calling her to tell her was tough, but she completely understood. She knows how much I've invested in this goal over the last year, and she more than encouraged me to go. That support meant the world to me.

Back to Catalina

I caught a ride to Catalina with my buddy Steve Bender and his family. Steve and his son Jackson were racing together as a two-person relay team. Watching them together made me smile. I couldn't help wishing my dad had been into prone paddling so we could've shared adventures like this. Life doesn't always work out that way, but it was still awesome watching Steve and Jackson tackle the channel together.

The boat ride also gave me time to think about last year. What struck me most wasn't the race itself. It was how different I felt. Last year I was nervous because everything was unfamiliar. This year I felt like I belonged. I knew the routine. I knew what gear to bring. I knew how the relay worked. Instead of sleeping on the escort boat like I had the year before, I stayed at the house with the rest of the racers so I could practice the same routine I'll use for the Catalina Classic.

After check-in and the safety meeting, Tommy put together an incredible dinner. It felt like Thanksgiving—chicken, pasta, salads, fruit, and enough food to feed an army. Steve, his wife, and their boys joined us, and the evening disappeared into stories, laughter, and race talk.

By 9 p.m. everyone scattered to whatever sleeping spot they could find. I finally drifted off listening to the live band echoing up the hill from Two Harbors.

Race Morning

At 4:50 a.m. my alarm went off. By 5 o'clock everyone was awake, taking turns in the bathroom, eating breakfast, organizing gear, and getting ready for the crossing. The conditions couldn't have looked much better. Light wind. Cool air. Calm water. I put on my bright yellow rash guard and my Mexican flag board shorts, hoping they'd make me easier for our escort boat to spot.

At 6:59 a.m., the countdown began. One minute. Thirty seconds.

Ten...

Nine...

Eight...

The horn sounded, and suddenly all of the paddlers were charging out of Two Harbors.

Unlike last year, when I watched from the boat, this year I was leading off for our team.

That was something I specifically wanted to experience before the Catalina Classic.

I started wide to the left, found a clean line through the boats, tucked in behind another paddler, and drafted until I found an opening to move ahead.

Since I was racing a relay, I decided to paddle hard. One minute prone. Two minutes on my knees. Repeat. The miles disappeared. I expected our escort boat to find me around the 45-minute mark. It never showed up. An hour passed. Still no boat.

Eventually I heard cheering behind me. They'd finally found me. As it turned out, the GPS trackers weren't working for most of the race, making it difficult for escort boats to locate their paddlers. I swapped out after 6.6 miles, climbed aboard, wrapped myself in my giant swim parka, and looked back toward Catalina. It felt good knowing I'd covered that much water so quickly.

The Finish

After Ed, Tommy, and Dave completed their legs, I jumped back on the board to finish the race. The conditions had changed. The wind had picked up. The current had turned against us.

Still, I stuck with the plan that had worked all morning—one minute prone, two minutes on my knees.

About halfway through my final leg, I caught up to my friend Matt. He was paddling all 22 miles solo. I stayed beside him for a while and told him he was my hero. Eventually I pulled away, but watching him battle through those conditions reminded me exactly what I'll be facing in a few weeks during the Catalina Classic.

As I rounded the Palos Verdes Peninsula, I could finally see the South Bay Boardriders Club flags lining the finish. I worked my way through the kelp, caught a small wave toward shore, made it down the face of the wave then buried the nose of the board, got tossed into the water, jumped up laughing, grabbed the board, and sprinted up the beach to the finish line.

Our relay team crossed in 4 hours and 44 minutes. It was our fastest Rock2Rock yet. I was especially stoked for Steve and Jackson. Their goal was to finish around six hours. Instead, they crossed in 5 hours and 23 minutes. They absolutely crushed it.

The Biggest Victory

The biggest surprise didn't happen during the race. It happened after I got home. I looked over my GPS data and realized I'd paddled 11.5 of the 22 miles. More than half the race. And I'd felt strong from beginning to end. For the first time, I honestly believed I could've paddled the entire crossing solo. Maybe not at the same pace. But I could've done it. That realization meant more than any finish time.

One year ago, I was just hoping I could keep up. This year, I walked away believing I'm ready for the Catalina Classic. Rock2Rock has become more than just a race to me. Last year it introduced me to what its like crossing the Catalina Channel. This year it showed me how far I've come.

There's still plenty of work to do before August 30th. The Catalina Classic is ten miles longer and a much bigger challenge. But after everything I learned at Rock2Rock, I'm more excited than ever. The training isn't over. It's entering the final stretch.

Rock 2 Rock

Catalina Classic Paddleboard Race

2026 Rock 2 Rock paddle board race livestream.

You can watch the whole race here... At 5 hours 4 minutes they interview me! 

You can track each paddler here (just click the image above)

Here are a few highlights from the beach:

The First 20 Miles - You Don't Get There Alone

 

My alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. I rolled out of bed knowing I had a lot to do before this 20-mile paddle session.

The coffee pot was already dripping while I fed my dog breakfast. For myself, I made a bowl of sweet potato, applesauce, and sunflower butter (it's like peanut butter...just better). I chowed that down while sipping my morning coffee and, for what felt like the millionth time, checked the wind forecast.

It was still calling for 6–8 knots of offshore wind.

I kept hoping the forecast would change, but eventually I accepted it and decided what layers to wear: Florence leggings, my spring suit short john, and my green Florence long-sleeve rash guard. Next came the nutrition. I filled four water bottles with my liquid nutrition and electrolytes, packed a handful of vanilla GU gels, and tossed a few post-paddle snacks into the car just in case.

Before long, I was loading my 17'6" BARK prone board onto the roof and heading to the harbor to meet Zak and Amy. Zak was already there when I arrived. We stood around talking paddling, races, and whatever else came to mind while waiting for Amy. She showed up soon after, and at exactly 6:15 a.m. we launched from the dock.

We headed south toward the Beach House, and I was surprised by how much surf there was. Every few minutes a solid set would roll through, and I'll admit there were moments when I wished I was out surfing instead of setting off on a 20-mile paddle.

Zak planned to do about 12 miles, so we agreed to paddle to the Beach House, continue to the R10 buoy, and figure things out from there. The three of us stayed together, which turned out to be helpful. More than once I'd unknowingly drag a giant clump of seaweed behind my fin until one of them pointed it out. Amazing how much a little kelp can slow you down.

The water temperature actually felt pretty good. The wind stayed light, and the ocean had that glassy look that makes you want to stay out all day. I kept my headphones off and enjoyed the conversation between Zak and Amy. Before I knew it we'd covered just over six miles and stopped at the R10 buoy.

I tore open my first GU while staring at the enormous seal lounging on the buoy. Zak called her "Big Bertha." She was seriously one of the biggest seals I've ever seen. We all gave her plenty of room. Zak still had things to do that day, so he planned to hammer back to the harbor and finish his 12 miles. We said our goodbyes, and Amy and I turned north toward Manhattan Beach Pier.

As we paddled, Amy shared little Catalina Classic tips—what lines to take, landmarks to look for, and small details that only come from experience.

Around mile 12 the ocean became rougher and bumpier, and she slowly started pulling away from me. I finally turned on my headphones and mixed in more knee paddling just to keep from falling too far behind.

By the time I reached Manhattan Beach Pier, she was waiting.She suggested we continue north a little farther before turning around so we'd have an easier ride back toward the harbor.

"You up for that?" She asked

I knew it would hurt. "Sure."

As we pushed farther north my speed dropped from around 4.2 mph to 3.8 mph. Amy, meanwhile, looked like she was effortlessly gliding along at 4.5.

Then my headphones died. I laughed to myself. Guess I was going to raw dog the rest of this paddle.

I passed Marine Street, then 26th Street.At mile 15 I ate another GU, and we finally turned around. Amy could tell I was slowing down. My speed bounced between 3.0 and 3.7 mph. Every so often I'd get up and knee paddle, partly to change muscles and partly because I was getting cold.

Really cold. The offshore wind was right in my face. My jaw started chattering uncontrollably. Every few minutes I'd consciously relax my shoulders and try to shake off the cold before settling back into my rhythm.

As the miles wore on, I started thinking about the Catalina Classic. About what those final miles would feel like. The aching shoulders. The tight neck. The sore lower back. This wasn't Catalina, but in that moment it felt like my own version of it.

I imagined my headphones were still working. Every few songs, I pictured a recorded message from family or friends cheering me on. Right now I only have one. My mom's.

"Find your rhythm," she said. "And go, go, go." More than once I imagined her hand resting over mine, helping guide my cadence.

We passed Manhattan Pier and then Hermosa Pier. Every mile or so my speed would get a bit slower and Amy would circle back.

"Keep going, Eric." She'd paddle by me, loop back around, and ask how I was doing.

"I'm so cold," I told her.

"Try knee paddling a little more," she said. "The extra movement will help warm you up." Then she'd glide away again like the wind and chop barely existed.

The Breakwall felt endless. Like the Great Wall of China.

I kept watching my speed bounce between 3.4, 3.0, nearly zero while waves sloshed around me, and then back above 3 again. The waves exploded against the rocks, throwing whitewater everywhere.

Eventually I rounded the corner and could finally see the section of wall leading toward the harbor entrance. Amy circled back one more time.

"You're done," she said. "I don't care what your GPS says. Once we're inside, head straight for the dock."

I was exhausted. And freezing. Inside the harbor I switched to knee paddling and watched the tenths of a mile slowly tick upward. When I reached the end of the rock wall leading back to the launch dock, my watch read 19.85 miles.

Part of me wanted to paddle another two-tenths just so it would say 20. But Amy was right. I'd done enough. My previous longest paddle had been 15.1 miles. Today I'd stretched that to 19.85. Close enough.

Besides, Amy reminded me Garmin watches aren't perfect anyway. I'm pretty sure she paddled well over 20 miles with all the times she circled back to check on me. Back at the dock I helped her get her board out of the water before carrying mine to the parking lot.

Ironically, I was colder standing on land than I had been out on the water. My jaw wouldn't stop shaking. I kept paying attention to how much strength I still had left in my arms while carrying my board.

Thankfully, the water in my post-session jug was still warm. It felt amazing. I changed into dry clothes, piled on extra layers, thanked Amy for sticking with me, and headed home. Tired. Cold. But definitely not defeated.

For the day, I paddled 19.85 miles (I'm calling it 20) in 5 hours and 12 minutes.

• Distance: 19.85 miles
• Time: 5:12
• Average Speed: 3.8 mph (3.9 mph moving)
• Max Speed: 6.4 mph
• Calories Burned: Around 1,383 (if you're into counting those)

Amy has been there for every one of my longest paddles.

Training is physical. It's mental. But I also think there's something powerful about having someone willing to lead you into territory you've never been before.

Someone who circles back when you're struggling.

Someone who tells you to keep going.

Someone who knows when you've already done enough.

I'm grateful to have a friend like Amy Dantzler helping me reach these milestones.

Now it's time to see what the next one looks like.

South Bay Paddle Race: My First 15-Mile Prone Paddleboard Race

Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

 

I had a hard time sleeping the night before the race. My mind bounced back and forth between wondering what the conditions would be like and thinking about how this race was a major stepping stone toward the Catalina Classic in August. After hours of tossing and turning, I finally drifted off.

The alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. I got up, made some coffee, and tried to eat breakfast. The plan was a baked potato with avocado and a hard-boiled egg, but my stomach wasn't interested. It rumbled with the kind of gurgle that refuses food.

Instead, I focused on my pre-race checklist: wetsuit and paddle gear, nutrition, hot water rinse, post-race snacks. Once everything was packed, I loaded my 17'6" Unlimited Bark onto the roof of my car.

That board has a funny history. I owned it back in 2017 and 2018, then sold it in 2020 because I rarely used it. Earlier this year I bought it back from the same guy, and since then I've logged more than 120 miles on it. Funny how life works sometimes.

Before I knew it, I was driving to Hermosa Beach for the South Bay Paddle Race.

At check-in they wrote the number 75 on my hand and handed me a race shirt. The forecast called for heavy onshore winds between 8 and 10 knots. I kept hoping the forecasters had it wrong, but I wasn't counting on it. I pulled on my long john wetsuit and Florence windscreen rash guard and headed down to the beach.

My race plan was simple: stick with Amy Dantzler for as long as possible.

Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

Amy is an incredibly strong paddler. Her pace is steady, consistent, and relentless. She never seems to slow down. I found her on the sand, set my board down nearby, and listened as all 111 racers gathered for the pre-race briefing.

Soon it was time to paddle out and line up.

Amy and I moved toward the front of the pack. They said the race would start when the horn sounded. I never actually heard the horn, but suddenly everyone was paddling south, and just like that, the race was on.

Joe Bark @BarkBoards

The water was rougher and colder than I expected. I settled in next to Amy and focused on holding my pace. We quickly passed the yellow pin near the breakwall. The course line was farther offshore than when we had practiced it, but I knew the route: south toward Torrance Beach, then out to the R10 buoy before turning back north.

Joe Bark @BarkBoards

Several times Amy started to pull away. Each time I'd jump up and knee paddle to close the gap. More than once I managed to catch back up to her.

We rounded the safety boat near Torrance Beach side by side before heading out toward R10.

Little by little, Amy began pulling away for good. My speed started to drop. I wasn't tired yet, which made me wonder if I was dragging seaweed or fighting an unfavorable current. Whatever it was, I wasn't moving as well as I wanted.

Finally, I turned on my headphones.

Instantly, everything changed.

Photo by Captain Sleeis

The music gave me rhythm. It gave me energy. I settled into a routine of prone paddling, then hopping onto my knees to regain momentum whenever my pace dropped.

Less than a mile from R10, I spotted a lifeguard boat. I wondered if my friend Captain Sleeis was on board.

Sure enough, as I got closer, there he was.

"You want a ride to the finish?" he yelled.

Not this time.

Photo by Captain Sleeis

He snapped photos as I rounded the buoy and started the long trip back north. A little later I heard him shout, "Hey Eric! Say hi to Lindsay! I'm recording!"

I laughed, waved, and yelled hello.

That little interaction gave me another boost.

The return leg felt long but steady. I kept alternating between prone paddling and knee paddling as Redondo Harbor slowly grew larger in the distance.

Then I hit the oil patch.

The water turned glassy and smooth, almost dreamlike. It smelled faintly of gasoline, but I couldn't help loving the way the surface looked. After miles of rough water, it felt like paddling across polished glass.

The pier was finally getting closer.

Photo by Captain Sleeis

For miles there had been a young paddler ahead of me, probably around 17 years old. I slowly reeled him in and managed to pass him in the final quarter mile.

As I approached shore, a set wave stood up in front of me. For a second it looked like it might ruin my finish. I hit the brakes just in time, let the wave pass underneath me, and then sprinted the rest of the way in.

Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

I jumped off my board, hit the sand, and discovered I still had something left in the tank.

I ran up the beach toward the finish line, high-fiving friends along the way. I looked over and saw my wife taking pictures, and I couldn't stop smiling.

Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

My final time was 3 hours and 13 minutes.

For 14.2 miles, that works out to an average speed of 4.4 mph.

I'm proud of that.

A year ago, the longest race I'd ever done was the 3-mile version of this same event. Since then I've logged roughly 1,000 ocean miles. Looking back, it's hard to believe how much progress can happen in a year when you just keep showing up and paddling.

Reagen Hansen Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

Another highlight of the day was seeing photos of Reagan Hansen racing the 3-mile course on the custom board I built for her. Honestly, that made my day almost as much as finishing my own race.

Out of 111 racers, I finished 63rd overall and 23rd out of 35 paddlers in my division. Not spectacular, but not bad either.

Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

More importantly, I finished my first 15-mile prone paddleboard race with my friends.

Photos by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

Looking back, I realize I didn't get here by myself. Over the past year I've been fortunate to train with some incredibly talented paddlers who have pushed me to improve every time I get in the water. Paddling with people like Amy, Alyssa, Brent, Tommy and Ed, Steve and Austin Bender,  the Paddle Dawgs, the Donkeys, the South Bay Paddle Club, and of course Kurt and DJ from Oceans Prone have taught me so much. Watching stronger paddlers up close—seeing their consistency, pacing, technique, and determination—has been one of the biggest factors in my progress.

Photos by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain

There have been plenty of mornings when I was hanging on for dear life, trying to keep up with a group that was faster than me. But every one of those sessions made me a little stronger, a little more efficient, and a little more confident. Being surrounded by paddlers who love the sport and challenge themselves at a high level has been incredibly motivating.

A year ago, the longest race I'd ever done was the 3-mile course at this same event. Since then I've logged roughly 1,000 ocean miles, completed my first 15-mile race, and learned that I'm capable of much more than I thought.

And now I'm officially qualified for the 32-mile Catalina Classic in August.

One year ago, a 15-mile race seemed impossible.

Now it's just the next step.

The South Bay Paddle - Presented by the South Bay Boardriders Club

(Live Stream)

Black Line Logo

The South Bay Paddle is a 15 mile paddleboard race taking place in Hermosa Beach, Californina. Live Stream!

Track the race here - I'm #75