Humans are adaptation machines. On multi-day journeys, especially physically demanding ones, there’s a threshold beyond which that unusual thing you’re doing starts to feel normal, like you were made to do it.
Day One: This is new and exciting.
Day Two: This is harder than I envisioned.
Day Three: Um, my body is not ok.
Day Four: Ugh, I guess I’ll just keep going.
Day Five: Actually, I’ve got this.
The 46 teams still racing this epic course are settling in. They are exactly where they should be, living their new normals. They must be. They’d better be.
Of course, what they’re settling into is infinitely dynamic, consistent only in its adventurous challenge. Across an astonishingly wide range of experiences currently underway, these teams are getting more out of this race. More time. More adaptation to their surroundings, their boats, and the process of adventuring. Better at setting up and breaking camp, better at switching between wind and human power, better at being on the water approximately all of the time.
Their senses are at active max, taking in and calculating more information with greater ease, greeting the unknown splashes of resident wildlife or an ill-timed beam wave with less startled panic and more attuned and graceful curiosity. The long summertime dawns and sunsets, stunning mountain vistas, the visiting porpoise and jellyfish hovering near the surface and eagles riding thermals—all more familiar, and somehow even more remarkable for it. These racers are more a part of this environment with each passing day. Speed and winning and finish line bell ringing are cool and all… What happens after Day 5 on the water is cooler.
There are still blisters and sore muscles. But by now, these racers have found the tolerable that exists beyond the sting. Those pesky blisters are on their way to being the strongest sections of palm in their respective zip codes; and overworked muscles start to feel a little more numb than sore, trending toward limit-surpassing capability.
That’s not to say it’s easy. Part of what these incredible adventurists are becoming accustomed to is the suffer, the slog. To endure it day-in and day-out though, it becomes matter-of-fact. This is just what they do now.
Still, as adapted as one might be, pedaling (or worse, rowing) your sailboat at 0.67 knots upcurrent remains an effort possessing all the futility of clenched buttcheeks during a bad case of the runs—it might get you to the next room, but… after that, it just gets gross.
By wind or straining sinew, any efficiency above that lowest bar means the miles tick by. Resolve and grit—always. The finish—closer. The focus—complete over compete. The reward—gratification, satisfaction, fulfillment—is already available to those who journey on into the more of this race.
But what’s actually happening?
After a hard grounding just south of Yellow Island in San Juan Channel, universally beloved Team Unicorns with Pretty Horns has ended their WA360 for 2025. We’ll all miss them, but in spite of a keel in pretty rough shape, they are already talking about future adventure races. And get this: 8-year-old EmmyLou took time off from Opti sailing camp to join the team for WA360, and she’s already back at camp and on the water today at the time of this writing.
Wednesday’s late-day finishers capped their journeys with a bit of frothy madness in the Strait, with massive waves (Team TBD said 10-feet!) and wind pushing 30. The experienced crew of Salish Seasters whooped and hollered and giggled their way across, finishing in time for happy hour on their well-traveled and proven Santa Cruz 27—with crewmember Katie Gaut adding a WA360 notch to her belt next to R2AK 2024. They were followed by Team TBD who sailed their sleek new Beneteau First 36 to the finish with speed aplenty under jib only.
When the Race Boss and I talked yesterday evening, we figured that the finish line would be quiet until morning with winds in the Strait piping up, but the Boogie Bargers had other ideas. In the wee hours this AM, these perennial NWM adventure racers charged in from the south (you read that right) to ring the bell and take home the coveted Muscle Group belt! They jogged back inside Whidbey via Deception Pass yesterday morning, choosing the more protected waters and an extra 60 or so miles over a Strait crossing in building breeze. Just getting to the finish across very blustery Port Townsend Bay was excitement enough. “That was so gnarly at the end there.” Always uniquely busy, this crew of four had taken two days off of racing in the middle of their effort to attend to shoreside responsibilities, and had the boat taken apart and were driving home within minutes of hitting the dock. Their response to the Muscle Group win: “It’s a very impractical way to travel.” Congratulations, Team Boogie Barge!
This morning, the finish line crew welcomed a few more teams, at least two of whom are planning R2AK runs in 2026—Teams Salmon Hat and Calorically Dense. Team The Poles finished before them both on their 400-pound home-designed-and-built custom sailboat. Well done!
Notably, Calorically Dense lost their pedal drive very early in the race, crafting an oar from a bilge floorboard lashed to a spinnaker pole to employ in its stead. They were ready to throw in the towel if they missed the tide gate at the Narrows, but pushed on with their makeshift oar, getting through in time and paving the way for this eventual successful completion—with the oar getting much more work than they would have hoped!
The accolades have rightly started pouring in for Bill and Darlene Stange, another team sailing WA360 without human power of any real utility (towing with their ship-to-shore dinghy). This pair of savvy and accomplished sailors on Team Hula are already highly regarded in sailing circles for making a boat design renowned for its slowness—the Westsail or “Wetsnail” 32—go fast. They should be ringing the bell right around the time you’re reading this; though you might not have been aware since their tracker went for an inadvertent swim around La Conner. They have been manually updating their tracker at intervals since. For anyone who has spent any time transiting windless sections of Puget Sound in the summer, to complete this course on this boat this quickly with this much apparent ease and elegance… genuinely impressive.
Whatever a particular team’s race vibe or experience at present, they’re in it now and there’s no fighting it. Coming this far, this is just what life is like for them until they ring the bell in glory or cry uncle also in glory. I, for one, will be following with increasing inspiration and admiration.
– Joe Cline, Managing Editor of 48° North.
Fresh Footage
Video by Taylor Amble, Header photo by Luc Schoonjans