Run What You Brung

An update from the WA360 engineless boat race

Photo credit Taylor Amble

Article by Josh Colvin

When I first saw that Liam Pareis (aka Team Fairly Fleabag II) was entering a Sid Skiff in this year’s WA360, I did a double take. The sleek 13-foot open boat—designed by my friend Ray Speck—is a nimble sailer and efficient rower, but it’s also just as tender as you’d expect from an open 13-foot rowboat.

I remember once getting a call from the Northwest School of Wooden Boatbuilding, letting me know they were launching a freshly completed Sid Skiff, in case I wanted photos. I drove down to find a well-dressed crowd at the dock, sipping champagne and admiring the little vessel. As the new owner gave a few christening remarks, flags flapped and cat’s-paws danced across the bay.

Maybe it was the fresh coats of varnish, or the gathering breeze, or the size of the crowd—but the owner seemed reluctant to take her out for the maiden sail. Eventually, someone from the Boat School pointed at me—“Josh, the magazine guy”—and suggested I give it a spin. I tried to beg off, but eventually relented and found myself at the helm.

The low-slung Sid Skiff sailed beautifully, but I remember focusing a lot of attention on just keeping the boat upright. What I don’t remember is ever thinking, this is the perfect boat for a 360-mile adventure race.

“The boat’s light weight was its advantage and also its downside,” Liam told me. “I had some great downwind runs—keeping up with boats I shouldn’t have been able to—but going upwind, I’d be fully hiked out even in 10-12 knots and shipping water like you wouldn’t believe.”

Oh, I believe it.

The tiny boat presented other challenges as well. Although Liam attempted to sleep aboard, curled up in his bivy sack, there really wasn’t enough room.

He needed to find state parks to camp ashore each night. He carried beach rollers to get the boat up the shore, but with space at a premium, he elected to leave the roller foot pump at home and rely on his lungs instead.

“I’d be standing on the beach forever, manually blowing up these 5-foot-long rollers,” Liam says.

After a couple of days that included near-capsizes downwind, a night spent being kicked off a beach by an angry property owner, and a final campsite where he was run off by a nest full of wasps, Liam decided to call it quits at Camano Island State Park.

“The first few days were great,” he says. “Same with the South Sound. And we had a lot of fun with the boats at the back of the fleet. But I wasn’t prepared for how much the sea state and wakes affected things.”

Liam told me that even when rowing, in exposed waters the boat would bounce around so much it was hard to get a stroke in—and hard on the back.

“I knew it wasn’t anywhere close to the right boat for the race,” he says, “but it was available, so I went for it.” I admire him for doing it. As the ocean-crossing authors, the Pardeys preached—go small, go simple, go now. Or as they say in the DIY race car world, run what you brung. •SCA•

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