Kayak polo players love game, hope for more paddlers to join

BELLINGHAM – A sport that involves paddling, hoops and occasionally broken bones – Gary Southstone thought kayak polo was nearly perfect.

Maybe the broken bones part was a little over the top.

“I toned it down because I broke bones in my hand, my cheek, I got knocked out once,” says the organizer of the game’s most recent incarnation in Bellingham. “The testosterone poisoning was getting out of hand.”

Since Southstone’s return to the sport in 1996, his focus has been on a good workout and lots of fun. He can’t understand why its popularity has waned.

“Worldwide, it’s taking off,” says the 50-year-old Fairhaven neighborhood resident. “In this town, we can’t compete with computer games and TV.”

At its peak, 20 people would show up for Tuesday evening games at Lake Padden. Now about eight people show up for games at the new spot off Marine Park.

Southstone finds that surprising for a city where cars look naked driving around without kayaks on top.

On a recent Tuesday, nine men, silhouetted by the setting sun, splashed, pulled and hooted as they went for the goal. A mess of paddles stirred the water and jabbed at the ball.

Boats collided with a thunk, and occasionally the bow of one kayak would mow over the bow of another so one player appeared to be sitting in the other’s lap.

The game was fast. One player would break away from the knot of boats and dribble the ball by throwing it ahead of himself and paddling after it.

The other players would extricate themselves from their tangle and chase after him, trying to block his shot from the floating goal.

The lower the sun got in the sky, the slower the game moved.

Glenn Biernacki, a software developer who lives in Bellingham, thinks kayak polo is the best game ever.

“I never think about how much energy I’m expending,” the 42-year-old says. “Because it’s just a pickup game, it’s casual, but it’s not boring.”

The new location adds challenges. Wind, chop and ship wakes make it harder for to maneuver.

“The nastier the better,” Southstone says.

When Biernacki took a short break from the game to empty the water out of his boat, he pointed out that the choppy water makes the baskets move around more, too, so it’s harder to make a shot.

For beginners, focusing on the game takes their minds off of mastering boat skills, so they get better without thinking about it, Southstone says.

Ryan Vasak, 30, says it’s a great workout: “It’s full-on for two or three hours. You’re sprinting constantly.”

The local game grew out of a sport that has been played internationally for more than 25 years, according to the U.S. Canoe/Kayak Polo Committee. It’s called canoe polo in other countries.

International rules were established in 1987 through the International Canoe Federation, according to the committee’s Web site.

In Bellingham, the game got its start in the late 1980s at Bloedel Donovan Park, Southstone says. It lasted for about a year.

Southstone revisited the sport 10 years ago traveling to the Seattle area.

“Finally I had enough support up here to get it started up here,” he says.

He thinks the sport’s brutal reputation might have driven away some potential participants. So he’s made it safer by tweaking the gear and the rules.

Paddle blades are wrapped in small plastic tubing to prevent nasty gashes, T-boning people with boats is strictly prohibited, and both hands must remain on the paddle so competitors don’t get whacked.

And everyone must wear a life vest.

After suffering three broken ribs, 57-year-old Carey Worthen admits he likes his vest less for floatation and more for body armor.

Mary Sass watched from shore to get a feel for the game. The 28-year-old assistant professor at Western Washington University thinks she might like it.

Sass considers herself a competitive person, and she’s lived in Bellingham for about a year and wants to meet more people. She wasn’t put off at all by the thought of being the only woman in the water.

Southstone said earlier that other women have been regular players, but injuries – not sustained during kayak polo – have kept at least one woman away.

“I would do this,” Sass says. “I wouldn’t be any good at it, but I would do it. I can kayak. I can throw a ball. I’m not sure if I can do both at the same time.”