Conquering the Old Goat

A rose pink sunset beaming below dark clouds hovered for a few moments over Camano Island's Utsalady Bay on Old Goat Challenge eve, providing faint hope that the forecast of the week's poorest weather on Saturday may not come true. When an evening wind frothed up whitecaps, we began to expect the worst. High winds would cancel, but our decision needed to be made at dawn.

Beginning of the OGC

I was wide awake at 1:30 a.m., and restlessly checked the forecast. It still promised continual rain through the day. At 4:30 the alarm sent me out to pour coffee and prepare a bacon and eggs breakfast for my twin Greg, younger brother Tom and fellow paddler Mark, who had set up camp in the garage in the interest of social distancing. My wife Dee joined just in time to take photos as we were casting off from the thin beach below our bulkhead. Our tight schedule had us setting out for the 12-mile paddle to LaConner at 5:46, but I think it was closer to 5:50 as we left in calm water and light rain. The expected neighborhood send-off did not materialize, likely due to the gloomy weather and early hour.

Sunset on eve of the event. 

Sea Challenge

Mark and I were anxious to get going, and he took the lead (as I knew he would) in the sleeker, longer boat he had borrowed from my twin. I was having some technical issues as well - the neoprene grips on my paddle were sliding with each stroke as the cooking oil I'd sprayed over the shaft to ease a slight adjustment instead made them uselessly slippy. Eventually I gave up and just slid the pads out of the way.

We passed Brown Point at northwest Camano and veered across Skagit Bay toward little Ika Island. The current was in our favor, quickened by the rush of an extreme ebb tide as I tracked our course on my GPS-enabled sport watch. We paddled by a large buoy well off Whidbey Island's Strawberry Point, with Tom keeping close in our 14-foot crab boat while taking lots of still photos and videos. The seas changed from calm to lumpy about halfway across, with wind churning the sea from across and behind us in such a way that Mark and I, both without the benefit of working rudders on our kayaks, had to stroke harder on the right to keep a steady tack, in a way surfing us toward our destination.

My watch displayed the start of a text from one of the neighbors who said she would see us off that began: "I'm sorry the weather .." I didn't stop to scroll through the rest, but clearly she was under the impression we had gone back to bed.

With the water turning more green in the shallows as we drew closer to Ika Island, I advised Tom, who worried he would hit a sand bar with the prop, that he could safely return to base. We were on our own.

I couldn't have asked for a better paddling buddy than Mark Gunlogson. He's made his living as a mountain man - for decades guiding climbers up some of the world's most challenging peaks before taking the reigns of a Seattle-based expedition company called Mountain Madness. But, like me, he's a casual kayaker at best. Perhaps it was his adventurous spirit that made him jump at the chance to join the sea portion of The Old Goat Challenge when I called just a few days before. And maybe our inexperience in a sea kayak was a good thing because other, more veteran paddlers gingerly advised that a 12-mile morning paddle was a bit on the, well, ambitious side.

We finally reached Ika then made the short crossing to Goat Island, paddling close along its southern shore before pointing our craft to the jetty marking the outer south edge of Swinomish Channel. We had made good time - I had anticipated we would be lucky to reach this point by 8:30, but here it was just 8:24.

Then we made the turn up Swinomish and, oh boy, we were suddenly battling a current of maybe three knots or more, and running right at us. We had to paddle hard to earn any headway and within a half-mile of doing this we were both a little pooped. Mark found a resting spot along a rocky shore and I quickly joined  him for a few minutes before continuing our northward slog.

As I rested I finished reading the text from the neighbor: "... didn't cooperate. We've been up all week and this is the bleakest morning. When are you going to re-do?"

"Almost to LaConner!" I hastily replied. 

While I've boated through through the Swinomish Channel a few times in power craft, on this trip the channel suddenly became much longer than I'd remembered it to be. An hour of laborious "upstream" paddling later we finally passed Shelter Bay across and a little south from LaConner and made sight of our destination, the Rainbow Bridge.

As we neared the bridge we spied a small gathering of sign-waving folk shore side, cheering us along in the rain. This was our support crew (wife Dee and brother Greg) and running team, plus Fred, a fellow from church who was on our Guatemala team last year, and few members of Christ the King Church in LaConner, encouraged to greet us by Pastor Jon Skiffington and his wife Renee. They are the parents of Jesse Skiffington, who is the pastor of the church Dee and I attend in Tacoma. Two or three eagles soared over as we made our final strokes to the boat ramp. At 9:34 a.m., just a few minutes behind schedule, we had completed the sea portion of the OGC.

The Half Marathon Challenge

Since our running team of Ed Hong, my brother John and his friend Rob Lubin had been waiting in the rain they were eager to get on the road.

We loaded the kayaks and set out as quickly as we could (I also had to change into my running duds) and ran through hard

rain the few blocks toward scenic downtown LaConner. John and Rob went out first, with Ed and I starting a couple of minutes behind. We overtook them shortly and ran through what normally would be a busy downtown street filled with tourists, but with the pandemic and all was now mostly empty. Ed, whom I also know through church and has joined our Guatemala team for many years, kept an even pace with me as we picked our way through the streets of upper LaConner. Meanwhile behind us John and Rob's talking course guidance app somehow took them off course, which would add an extra couple of tenths-of-a-mile to their 13.1-mile journey.

It continued to rain for the next couple of miles then stopped. By mile five or so the sun broke through and would stay with us the rest of the run. Ed and I kept mostly together as the course took us along narrow roads lining the pungent pastureland of that corner of Skagit County. We caught up with Dee in the support vehicle at the Rexville Grocery, and while I shed my rain jacket, grabbed water and attended to other essentials Ed burst ahead, leaving me hopeful that he had indeed memorized the remainder of the course. I was able to keep Ed

in sight but not catch him for the rest of the run, that is until the very end when he too somehow took a wrong turn and lost his "Rexville Advantage" while I crossed the finish line first in Conway.

Waiting for us at the Conway Tavern was another group of well-wishers. In addition to Fred and Dee was, to my surprise, Dee's sister Candace and

nephew Tyler, along with Jeffrey Hager, executive director of the Hands for Peacemaking Foundation and wife Kelly, and Tony Chursky, who would cycle the next leg of the OGC with me.

But rest first - this was the Conway Tavern's first day open after the pandemic closure and they were more than happy to serve us in their outdoor courtyard. I gobbled what I felt was a well-deserved Western Burger (for extra protein) and fries, oh so good. Rob came in, then John, and I was able to get in at least an hour of rest before moving on to the next phase of this adventure.

The Cycling Challenge

Dee and her sister slapped an "Old Goat" sign on me for a photo op then Tony and I rode away, over the railroad tracks of Conway before turning south.

The skies had been threatening through lunch and, sure enough, within a few minutes the rain started dumping on us again. Tony asked if he could pace-line me, meaning he would go just a couple of feet ahead and I could draft to save energy. He set a pace of about 15 mph along the flat Pioneer Highway before we made a left at Milltown and climbed over to Pacific paralleling I-5.

The rain eventually let up, giving way to what would be sunshine for the rest of the ride. We pedaled through North Stanwood, through downtown Stanwood and over the bridge to the last 20 miles or so of our 35-mile ride on Camano Island. In plotting the course I'd opted for some fairly serious hills on Camano - in fact when riding on Camano it's nearly impossible not to include hills. Not a complaint from 60-something Tony, who in his younger years played professional soccer with some of the finest teams in the U.S. and Canada and is an inductee to the Canadian soccer Hall of Fame. He was also a longtime youth soccer coach in Federal Way and retired a few years ago as a favorite advanced English lit teacher at Charles Wright Academy in Tacoma. Also a man of faith and a veteran Guatemala mission team member, Tony turned his attention to cycling a few years ago and he and I have enjoyed many rides together. When he heard about the Old Goat Challenge he sent me an email saying he'd set the pace for me, and I was so happy to have his fine company to finish out the day.

Tony and I toured the high roads of Camano and finished back at our place at Utsalady in fine form, coming in even a little faster than I'd expected at just past 4:30 p.m.
We toasted the ride - and day's success - with root beer and soda water on the deck by the bay, joined by Dee, Candace and Tyler, who would all later prepare me a wonderful steak dinner for my birthday. 

The Old Goat Challenge was now one for the books. It began as an idea just over three weeks ago, but unbeknownst to me it really started nine months ago when I made the decision to start taking better care of myself in anticipation of my 60th birthday and began a training and weight loss regime. I'd set a goal of raising $6,000 from the OGC, and since May 23 we've taken in $16,144.32 - more than enough to transform a village in Guatemala with clean-air cooking stoves and help with other life essentials for the school and village. Your donations are still welcome as the added need is very real, 

just choose "Old Goat Challenge" in the giving fund menu.

The Mayan villagers may never know of the Old Goat Challenge, only that members of a church, and many others, living somewhere in a country most have never visited, cared enough for them that they raised funds to make their lives a little better.

As we were enjoying our refreshments on the deck Tony asked me what the toughest part of the day was. I had to pause and think about it, but had no firm answer. As you have read each challenge had its own challenge, and somehow I had managed to make it through all three. In fact I may make this an annual event - after all I'm only 60. Think about joining me next year - you have a whole year to train and hopefully the pandemic will be a bad memory by then.    

Thank you so much for joining me on this journey, everyone. You are all awesome for your fellowship and support of the Old Goat. I'll leave you with the highlight video below. 

God Bless,

Brian