What I'd Do Differently on My Next Lake Tahoe SUP Circumnavigation

Finishing 72 Miles of Blue with my best friend Michael Whalen taught me more than I expected about what actually matters when planning a multi-day paddleboard circumnavigation. Looking back with the full trip behind me, here's exactly what I'd change if I attempted this same route again.

I'd Build in One More Buffer Day

Our five-day timeline worked, but it left little room for error, especially around the demanding crossing near Sand Harbor. Adding a sixth day specifically as buffer, positioned to absorb either a wind delay or simply a slower recovery day after our biggest mileage push, would have reduced the pressure we felt at several points during the trip without meaningfully changing the overall experience.

I'd Finalize Gear at Least Three Days Before Departure

The chaos of our final gear preparation, dry bags running short, a power bank with no clean mounting point, camp fuel scattered across half-empty canisters, all surfaced the night before launch because that's when we finally sat down to fully sort everything. Spreading that final preparation across several days, rather than compressing it into one evening, would have let us solve each problem calmly instead of under mounting time pressure.

I'd Have an Explicit Contingency Conversation Before Launch

The conversation about whether Michael might need to leave the trip early happened reactively, at a market table in Homewood, once the math on our pace made the problem impossible to ignore. Having that conversation before departure, building a real contingency plan into our original planning rather than improvising one under pressure, would have made an already difficult moment less stressful when it actually arrived.

I'd Research Wind Patterns for Specific Stretches, Not Just the General Lake

We researched general Lake Tahoe wind behavior before departure, which helped, but it didn't fully prepare us for how differently specific stretches like the mouth of Emerald Bay or the area near Sand Harbor could behave compared to the broader lake average. Section-specific research, understanding how each particular crossing tends to behave rather than treating the whole lake as one uniform body of water, would have given us more accurate expectations for our most demanding stretches.

I'd Bring a Personal Flotation Device Specifically for Exposed Crossings

We didn't carry one, and the crossing near Sand Harbor is exactly the kind of stretch where that additional safety margin would have mattered most. Knowing what I know now about how quickly conditions built there, I'd carry a PFD specifically for the most exposed sections of the route, even if it added some bulk to an already loaded board.

I Wouldn't Change Bringing Michael

Of everything I'd adjust about the trip's logistics, bringing my best friend instead of a more experienced paddling partner or a professional crew isn't on the list. Whatever the logistical challenges his participation introduced, the value of finishing this specific trip with him outweighed any efficiency a different arrangement might have offered. Some decisions are worth making again exactly the same way, regardless of what hindsight reveals about the harder parts.

What This List Actually Represents

None of these changes reflect regret about how the trip actually went. They represent the kind of refined understanding that only comes from having actually done something difficult and genuinely uncertain. If you're planning your own attempt at this route, or something like it, treat this list as a starting point built from real experience rather than theoretical planning, and expect your own list of adjustments to look different based on whatever your specific trip actually teaches you.

What Surprised Me Most About This List

Writing out these adjustments, I noticed most of them concern logistics and preparation rather than anything about the route itself or the physical challenge. That balance says something important, the hardest parts of a trip like this often aren't the miles themselves, they're the planning decisions made in the days and weeks before you ever launch. Getting those decisions right matters as much as physical readiness for the paddling itself.

How I'd Apply These Lessons to a Completely Different Project

Beyond a hypothetical second attempt at this exact route, these lessons have already shaped how I approach other demanding projects since. The contingency conversation happening before departure rather than reactively, the gear preparation spread across days rather than compressed into one evening, both principles now show up in how I plan expeditions that have nothing to do with Lake Tahoe specifically.

Why Writing This List Mattered

Putting these lessons into words, rather than just carrying them as vague impressions, forced a level of specificity that's genuinely useful for planning any future attempt. I'd recommend the same exercise to anyone finishing their own demanding trip, write down what you'd actually change while the details are still fresh, rather than trusting memory alone months or years later.

The Bottom Line on Post-Trip Reflection

The most valuable adjustments came from logistics and preparation, not from the physical challenge itself, a pattern worth remembering for anyone planning their own attempt at something this demanding.

What Hasn't Changed About How I Feel About the Original Trip

Despite this list of adjustments, I look back at our original attempt with real pride rather than regret. The imperfections in our planning became part of what made the trip meaningful, and I'd rather have lived through the genuine uncertainty of our actual attempt than a more polished, better-planned version that removed some of what made it feel real.

What This List Would Look Like a Year From Now

I suspect this list will keep evolving the further I get from the actual trip, with new perspective surfacing details that feel less obvious right now, closer to the experience. That's part of why documenting reflections like these matters, capturing your thinking at different points after a demanding project rather than assuming your first reaction covers everything worth noting.

What I Hope Someone Reading This Actually Does With It

My hope in sharing this list isn't that someone follows it exactly, but that it gives permission to plan thoughtfully without expecting perfection. Every one of these adjustments came from a trip that still succeeded despite the gaps, and that combination, real preparation alongside real imperfection, is probably closer to what most people's actual attempts will look like too.

Before You Close This Tab

After completing the full seventy-two-mile loop, what would you change about your own plan next time, based on what you know now?

Which of these specific adjustments would matter most for your own planned route and experience level?

Is there a decision from your own past demanding trips you wouldn't change even knowing what you know now?

What would your own contingency conversation look like if you're planning this trip with a partner?

Dalton Johnson is a photographer, filmmaker, and brand storyteller based in South Lake Tahoe, California. Over the past decade he has worked with brands including Patagonia, GoPro, Arc'teryx, Four Seasons, Nike, Rivian, and Ford Bronco across all seven continents. He is the creator of the Follow The Journey distribution framework, which has produced over one million organic views per 30-day cycle without paid media. His work includes two published books, an award-winning documentary that aired on PBS, and more than fifty commercial spots directed. He runs Stories by Dalton on Substack, read by more than 34,000 subscribers.