Being an avid racer in the Pacific Northwest, the Van Isle 360 has been on my bucket list for quite some time. This year, the stars aligned and I was finally able to do the race on First Light, a gorgeous Bruce Farr designed Beneteau First 47.7 skippered by my friend Scott Kanlyn. Scotty just bought the boat last year and we’ve had a lot of fun getting to know her with the goal of doing more offshore and distance racing.
I have not been offshore since doing the Clipper Race in 2022, and I have been missing ocean time and boy howdy did the 360 provide. Much fun was had on and off the water and as always happens with an extended journey like this, some wonderful new friendships were formed and old ones strengthened.
Our adventure started in the fall with planning and continued over the winter. We sailed Round the County and Swiftsure in the lead up to the Van Isle 360, to learn the boat and test ourselves. Preparations involved a ton of safety stuff including attending the excellent Safety at Sea course put on by The Sailing Foundation. A new mainsail and two new jibs from the sail loft where I work, and lots of modifications to the boat and running rigging improved our prospects for speed and efficiency. Team meetings and countless emails and chat threads kept our heads in the game and on the same page.
At long last, the end of May arrived and we were ready to set off on this big endeavor. My journey began at Kenmore Air with many fellow Van Isle sailors sharing in the excitement. Flying into Nanaimo gave just a taste of the scenery to come, and reminded me that I need to get more serious about planning to take my own little boat up north to play.
Seeing the fleet together for the first time was awesome, battle flags were flying and people were doing last-minute preparations on their boats. After a skipper’s meeting and welcome party, prudence inspired early bedtimes, for everyone except perhaps Dan Kaseler and his intrepid crew, whose sprint to get the mighty Melges 30 Maelstrom ready continued into the eleventh hour, but made the start line looking sharp nonetheless.
I appreciated the race committee’s thoughtful and methodical pre-start organization, including an acknowledgement of the different First Nations peoples whose waters we were sailing, and a roll-call to check in each boat and the number of souls on board. This process reduced VHF chaos and meant there was an opportunity for some cheekiness at the check-in. All the fleets started together every day, which made for excitement at the line as there were big TP52s going toe-to-toe with smaller boats like Lindsey Lind’s Beneteau First 30 FireWing.
It was absolutely stunning sailing up the inside of the island. The first couple of days gave wind that was in the low double digits, enough to move the boat but not get too crazy. This afforded the opportunity to do some headsail changes and I got to figure out how to rig a second tack attachment point so we didn’t have to be bareheaded during the change… more speed!
We saw wildlife including orcas and humpback whales, porpoises, sea otters, countless sea birds, and gigantic bald eagles. The landscape was varied and beautiful and kept getting more gorgeous the farther north we went, a crescendo of mountains that flowed into the water. The tides and currents made for challenging decision making and navigation. Of course nowhere was wilder than the infamous Seymour Narrows—we had a pleasant transit through, but having seen what it looks like, I don’t want to ever be caught there in a rowdy tide!
The spiciest day of the inside legs was the start in Deepwater Bay heading to Port Neville. The wind was howling and some boats flew their storm sails, the two Seattle TP52s, Mist and Smoke, opted to start the race on jibs only. Given how sensitive those boats are, I don’t blame them. We had an epic time making our way in the wind and waves, as Johnstone Strait lived up to its reputation. We learned a lot about how the boat handles in different winds—she really likes to stretch her legs and punch through the heavy stuff. We later found out that the race committee had planned to bring treats around to the fleet anchored out in Port Neville, but opted not to when a boat came in where they were moored with blown-out windows.
Along the way, we got to utilize some field repairs, most notably on our vang when the mounting plate started to crack. There was some clever deployment of Dyneema lashing and some bolts from the hardware store in Port Hardy. In Port Hardy word got out that I had brought my trusty blue Sailrite sewing machine and sail repair supplies in our van, and was able to supplement time off work by doing sail repairs for a few other boats in the fleet.
Port Hardy was also a fairly major changeover point for some boats with the inshore and offshore crews swapping out. We said see you later to three crew and got two new crew for the offshore fun on First Light.
After many consecutive days of upwind sailing, I was chomping at the bit to get out into the open ocean and turn left and pop the kite on the way to Winter Harbour. We tacked our way up, passed the Nawhiti Bar without too much fuss, and were off. Finally flying the kite made me very happy. We avoided kitemares and sailed past the finish in Winter Harbour just after sunset.
Contrary to its namesake, Winter Harbour was warm and lovely. Greeted with warm sun the following morning, we quickly realized sunburns were going to be the accessory of choice for many boats, second only to the cool swag available at the Outpost.
Skipper Scott was among the many sailors monitoring heavy wind brewing offshore that was sure to impact the Winter Harbour to Ucluelet leg. There was much discussion on the dock, and the storm sails were appearing in preparation. As a skipper on a new boat with a new crew, Scott had safety as his utmost priority. We had some crew on the boat who had never been offshore, and he didn’t want to push people or the boat too far. After rigorous consideration in Winter Harbour, Scott made the decision that we would retire from the next leg and sail/motor ahead of the heavy winds and then rejoin the race in Ucluelet.
At first I was bummed about this, but once we got out into the big stuff, 35-plus knots felt like plenty and I didn’t feel as strong of a desire to be in the forecasted 45-plus that the rest of the fleet would face. We still had plenty of fun in the heavy stuff including reefing and un-reefing, and headsail changes. I got my wishes of sailing in big offshore waves and getting off the pointy end to spend some time on the helm. When the wind and waves were exceptionally nasty, I had to throw my whole body weight into correcting the wheel so we didn’t round up. Some salty language was peppered with the occasional “Please, please, please!” While we weren’t technically racing, we still used the trek to Ucluelet as a dress rehearsal utilizing the watch system. For about two days, life became eat, sleep, sail repeat—the offshore rhythm I had longed for.
We were fortunate to arrive in Ucluelet (aka “Ukee”) in the early afternoon, scoring a primo spot at the dock while we awaited our friends who were racing. It wasn’t long to wait with a breeze-on leg—some of the fleet arrived before night fell, so much for an overnight leg. Ucluelet is both a welcoming and stunning area that afforded a lot of sightseeing and surfing as well as some guest appearances including my lovely partner Matt who came up to enjoy the surf and hang out. Ukee was the last stopover where the entire fleet would be together, so there was a big dinner with an open mic that we all enjoyed.
It’s a tale as old as time, but we don’t love our ORC rating since we owed most of the rest of our competitors in Division 2 time. With the exception of a couple of notable days, much of the racing was in medium wind, and our big heavy girl is a bit of a diva who doesn’t like to move quickly in lighter air. We didn’t make the podium for any of the legs, but that’s ok as we had a really good time, ate well, and enjoyed luxuries others could hardly imagine (two heads!). We had a very tough class with some legendary boats like Joyride who sailed an impressive race even with the epic flier they took on the last leg to Nanaimo, winning our division and the overall. Other notable performances included the Canadian X44 Phoenix, Express 37 Kodiak Express, and Jonathan McKee’s Dark Star—all won their divisions.
If you ever get the chance to do the Van Isle 360—do it! The experience is one of a kind. None of this race would have been possible without the amazing work done by Jeff and Sylvia Motley and their team, and the incredible coordination both on and off the water of race crews and our beloved support roadies.
I am grateful to have wound up on a boat that had a really good time and also took care of each other. My heart is still full and my head is still buzzing from such a big adventure. It was fun for me to get to teach some new tricks like racing headsail changes and letterbox douses. Scott did a good job of assembling a crew of people who can do multiple things on the boat, so it meant we got to cross-pollinate and enjoy a diverse experience. He’s an awesome skipper who doesn’t treat any job on the boat as below him, cleaning the head and making tasty meals. I can’t wait to see what’s next for this team.
Full results at: www.vanisle360.com/2025-results
