Adventure with the Vixens

When I get into something, it becomes my all-consuming thought. So, when I started looking into prone paddle boarding, I followed any group, person, or brand I could on the sport.

During one of those rabbit hole adventures, I found a local group of Newport Beach women called the Vesl Vixens. This small group of dedicated local waterwomen regularly took to the Newport Beach Harbor for long paddles, even paddling out to the local oil derricks about three miles off our coasts.

These ladies and other dedicated paddlers in the area meet once, twice, or even more a week to train for each season of races. Most of them train to compete in the channel crossing races held in August, like the Ben Did Go or the Catalina Classic Invitational, which I am trying to participate in.

This morning, they met up for a Sunday paddle through the Newport Beach Harbor, out towards the OC sheriff’s harbor house, and back around. They weren’t sure of the mileage, but I was invited to go along.

The launching spot was a hidden little beach on an island in the harbor. A place I’d never been. Quiet homes, old and new, dotted the road. Money filled the air. Expensive cars lined the streets. Orange County is filled with such a variety of economic levels. Though our poor are not the lowest in the country, the gap between rich and poor in the smaller county is quickly apparent at times.

At the four-way stop before the beach, I notice an obvious paddleboarder. The 12’+ board strapped to the roof of a car is a dead giveaway. We gather on the street, waiting as others slowly trickle in. 8:30 am is the launch time. The time before, though, is filled with idle chitchat. How long has everyone been paddling? How did they get started? Most in this small group have been doing it for under a year.

A standard issue white Sprinter van pulls up, and a gentleman I recognize from a what we’ll call a “waterman’s” podcast, “The Passion Project, Mark Schulein hops out. Alyssa, a woman who I met through the Vesl Vixen group, introduces me to Mr. Schulein.

More chitchat during the unpacking, then a short walk past sabot sailing boats waiting for the season to start and their time in the water to begin. We assemble on the small bit of sand; another woman is going to paddle over from her house to join our adventure. She paddles up, we snap a photo.

Off into the water, heading northwest along the channel. The water is glassy & the sun is out. This is my first time paddling with other prone paddlers. My adventures so far have been either alone or wth my brother, whose kayak isn’t one for speed.

Crossing under our first bridge of the harbor, we keep our paddling slow and easy. Mark starts knee paddling; I get to my knees also to mirror him. Right off the bat, he lets me know my paddling style is all wrong.

“Ben”, he says, “you’re paddling your board like a longboard.”

“Yes,” I answered.

“But you’re on a paddle board.”

“Yes,” I reply

He then shares with us how I need to drive myself forward like a piston, using my arms not faster but stronger. I was sitting too high in the cockpit. A good base wth my knees and toes together to make a triangle.

The group chats and everyone is friendly. I try to just listen.

Rounding the first island in the harbor, a small triangle tucked away in a remote part of the harbor. The homes and boats are reminiscent of the homes from Huntington Harbor. Some are large and lavish, others original and small.

We come out of the island and under the bridge again. Now into the main channel way of the harbor. Keri practices her knee paddling. We laugh and joke. I’m more into the sites of this new harbor. The yacht clubs and the ferry that take you from the “mainland” to the island. Strangely, this is just a fishing boat town that happens to be worth billions in total land value. I see the old fishermen live alongside millionaires if not billionaires. Mazaratis and Lamborghinis next to rusted-out fish trucks.

We come to the channel where the back bay meets the main channel. Waiting for others to catch up. Some of the folks fell off and headed back to the launching area early.

We decided to go around one of the other islands that’s in the harbor. A horseshoe-looking island at the mouth of the back bay. More knee paddling is practiced. Got to get the piston motion down.

We slowly make our way to the mouth of the harbor. The conversation turns to the news of a missing paddler in Mission Beach, San Diego. Danny Marron was out on February 14th, 2025, in his OC1 craft south of Mission Beach, San Diego, CA, but didn’t come home after his paddle. Keri asked Mark what he thought the chances were of him still being alive. I listened, but I knew in my experience that they wouldn't find him at all if they hadn’t found him by now.

We paddled to another island in the harbor. These harbor islands are very large compared to what I have paddled in the Huntington Beach Harbor. Several blocks in different directions. I mapped a loop around the harbor once using Paddle Logger, and if I remember correctly, it was about 15 miles around the harbor.

We come to the OC Sherriff boat house/headquarters. Mark sees several other paddlers heading out on their trips and heads over to talk to them. We just sit and float by the boathouse. I ask Keri about her paddling, how she started, if she’s ever crossed the channel, how she felt during it, and what it was like mentally. Any questions I could think of asking her at the moment?

She asks me if I’m planning to cross the channel. I say “ Yes, I want to.”

Mark returned, and we headed back toward the island near the mouth of the harbor. I try to keep pace with him and Keri, trying to match his stroke style. I notice my head is down, and I paddle a little harder or with no technique compared to Mark’s head-up, easy paddle at the same pace.

Keri, Gat, and I come out past the island tip. Mark has gone back to be with Jen and Alyssa, two other paddlers who were paddling at a slower, steady pace. We have to cross the main channel now to get back to the side of Lido Island where we had launched. The calm Sunday morning waters have gotten a bit busier. Boats heading out to the ocean for the day are “slowly” going by. Dig. Dig. Dig.

We’ve got about a mile left. I take my time; I don’t want to burn out, but I want to be done. My arms burn, and my hands are numb, but not to the point of uselessness. I sang Dori’s song from Finding Nemo. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. To myself, of course.

Before I know it, we’re back at the beach. Gat, Keri, and I sit on our boards and wait for the others to arrive. We chit-chat a little about whatever, the others paddle up, and we walk into where the cars are parked.

I thank Mark for the tips, pack my board, and head home. Thinking about the advice I heard and the distance I just traveled, I wonder if I would be crossing the Channel in August.