by Matt Parker

Ed note: Burien resident, Matt Parker told us last week* about a harrowing experience with a sinking dinghy in the shipping channel of Puget Sound just off Three Three Point. In the 16 years since that incident Matt has been using better judgement around the cold waters of the Sound. Here is his account of an ambitious paddle board trip with two of his friends.
(*Westside Weekly issue issue 7/3/2015 pg 13)

Our goal? using a stand up paddle board (SUP) to navigate a trip from Normandy Park, south around Vashon Island and back to where we started in one long day.

With common sense a factor learned from my adventure more than 16 years ago, I felt the need to challenge myself. I recruited two friends who just happen to be local firefighters. I figured if I got in trouble again, who better than with people trained to make good, life saving decisions.

Ryan Anderson, built like an outside linebacker, with the decisive, non-negotiating eyes of one, he is exactly the fireman you envision rescuing someone in your family. Recently, he professionally trained open water standup paddling on the north shore of Maui, arguably the wildest open water in the United States. I met Ryan once, about six months ago, and knew from that one meeting he was the type of guy you could trust as a paddle-board partner.

Brien Marcus, is the other athlete and fireman with an easy eastern Washington smile. His bright blue eyes render him more Hollywood than tough guy. His bucolic demeanor, though, underlies an unmatched competitive spirit. He is fresh off two straight years of successful Iron Man races and perhaps the best athlete at the local CrossFit gym.

We quietly picked our “first” last winter. A “first” is obviously is an athletic feat you don’t think has been done before. Rounding Vashon Island via SUP in one day is probably also something no one else would want to do.

Roughly measured, the waterway around Vashon Island from Normandy Park and back is thirty five miles. It is fiercely washed by strong tides twice a day, causing relatively unpredictable water features, upwellings and wildlife presence. Under Pacific Northwest spring weather, Vashon Island becomes a “Bermuda Square,” of moody conditions, swirling with wind from 360 degree directions and alternating between sun bathing weather and an ice cream freezer. If Vashon Island in the spring was a woman, she would be bipolar and stubborn, beautiful and well figured. And hard to get to know.

Leaving that morning in April, in front of Normandy Park, off Three Tree Point, we started into legitimate southeast winds. Standup paddle boards only achieve about six miles per hour, at their best, but strong winds can create much slower speeds. We had to leave into the wind because the tide was running south; to do opposite would set us up for a failed day in backwards tides. Ideally, when we rounded the south side of Vashon Island, the tide would ebb, and then retreat back north.

Rounding Pt. Robinson, the far west tip of the Vashon land mass (technically Maury Island), we turned west, hoping the wind would be behind us. In a style that would have us believing the island had a discernible human personality, the wind turned almost due west, slapping us directly in our faces while heading a different direction. That made staying warm and dry difficult.

Within about two hundred yards of having turned away from Pt. Robinson and heading east, Brien took an unlucky dunk in the water. All of us were carrying a days worth of food, water and clothing on our boards, effectively raising the centers of gravity on them and making them very, very “tippy.” Brien was soaked to the bone, four miles into the adventure, and about four miles from our next potential land spot.

Had I fallen in, the journey might have been over. The one challenge I can’t reconcile on the water is cold hands. Paddling into the wind, with wet, exposed hands initiates a throbbing pain in your hands that feels like they are trapped in a freezer. If that weren’t enough, the paddles are made of carbon fiber, and take on the temperature of the water, about forty two degrees. Simultaneously, the feeling is throbbing pain and relentless chill. Your hands, unfortunately, are working just hard enough to keep from going numb.

Brien quickly apologized as we took a turn to shore to better balance his gear setup so he had a better chance to make the icy, four mile trip towards the south end of Vashon Island. Anderson quickly reminded me what fireman live and die by: teamwork.

“Stop.” Ryan said to Brien, “We are a team.”

That set the tone for the rest of the cold crossing, and while Brien was a little quiet, he forged a steady path forward in choppy seas and wispy gusts of arctic-like wind. A total of eight miles from Three Tree Point, Vashon granted us respite from the wind, and we touched the south tip of Vashon Island at about 10:00 a.m. The second we pulled in for breakfast (sticky handfuls of Gatorade gummies), Mrs. Vashon reintroduced the sun as well. It was perfectly balmy then under her moody watch.

In stark contrast to the first eight miles of the thirty-five or so, the second eight were a peaceful ride on shimmering dark green water. Had mermaids of appeared then, it would’ve seemed perfectly in sync. The summer camp weather lent itself to getting to know Anderson a little bit better.

“I’ve been on all sorts of calls as a fireman, many of them heartbreaking. This week offered one, a perfectly healthy man dying in his family’s watch. I am sure I will see many more. Collectively, what they have taught me is the preciousness of life. Some of my friends think I am crazy doing this sort of thing, and maybe I am. But I can tell you I do them because I feel so alive. In this cold, on this water, I am alive, and that is precious.”

Nothing Anderson said, or did that April day made me think he was giving me lip service. But he, we, would be tested.

About twenty miles into the journey, filled additionally with sandwiches and chocolate covered almonds, we seemed on a conveyor belt up the backside of Vashon towards Southworth and the north tip of the island. With the tide, and the calm water, we were making about seven miles an hour. My positive teammates started to predict the time we would get home, what type of beverage we would enjoy, and when we would see our loved ones.

On call, Mrs. Vashon reversed the earlier wind 180 degrees in direction, almost exactly in our faces, and punished us to a standstill. Potential thunder clouds brought stinging rain that attacked our cold hands, tired shoulders and the brims of our hats. Stymied by the force of nature, we were forced ashore, all relics of hubris having been blown off our bodies and boards. Anyone who lived near our landing would have thought we were ghosts of Pirates cast ashore long ago. We were ragged, wet, overflowing with colorful language and haggard. Immediately, we laid on the beach and logs and cursed the weather.

Then, again, the poor weather stopped. We re-mounted our boards.

If we hadn’t been convinced someone was out to test us, we were now. Both times we looked to shore for serenity, someone turned the “weather” controller to the left, to the “sunny” position on the dial. So sunny, in fact, when we reached the far northwest corner of Vashon, I went for a swim. Crystal clean air, blue skies and diamond glimmering water offered a clear path back to Three Tree point.

I noticed, this time, however, no one commented on the good weather or future plans. Mrs. Vashon seem cued into our exact emotions when we expressed them, so we put our heads down and paddled, looking about five miles south back towards Normandy Park.

My hunch regarding Ryan Anderson and Brien Marcus was correct. Despite their physical prowess and demanding job, they had never paddled this far. Nor had I. Icy cold, rude wind, aggressive waves and raw distance didn’t stop us. Alone, I know I couldn’t have done it, maybe they would say the same. Accountable to each other, totally alive with a goal in mind, we did it.

In the words of Ryan Anderson, “we are a team.”

Vashon Island, if she lets you, can be circled via standup paddle board, unsupported, in eleven hours and one minute. I would suggest good teammates for the trip. The wonderful kaleidoscope of dynamic views you see offers a respectable palette of weather and nature, front to back.