As the Pre-Race Ruckus for the Race to Alaska got underway, one racer, a military veteran, was on hand to recount his equally impressive voyage off the country’s other coast.

With the June 7 festivities kicking off outdoors on Water Street, the Port Townsend American Legion Hall hosted Josh Collins, 48 years old, a 20-year Army Ranger who navigated a standup paddleboard from Galveston, Texas, to New York City last year to highlight the plight of fellow vets who have had to find ways of recovering from wartime traumas as civilians.

With stints in U.S. Army Special Forces and deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq, Collins had already sustained five brain traumas before suffering two more as a civilian contractor. His initial symptoms of memory loss and lack of focus soon led to growing feelings of anxiety, depression and rage, to the point that he was feeling suicidal by 2014.

“And I was drinking myself to death, on top of everything else,” Collins said. “Fortunately, my wife called my old unit in [special operations command], and they teamed up to help save me.”

HELP WITH PTSD

Although Collins was receiving treatment for his post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injuries at a Veterans Administration hospital by 2015, he was still coping with significant physical symptoms, which ironically were alleviated by what might seem like the least likely method.

“My balance was messed up,” Collins said. “My ears had been blown out, I had double vision, I was having seizures, and part of my spinal column was fused. It wasn’t until I went onto the moving water that everything stopped feeling like it was moving. A light came on. I’d never tried that approach before, but the doctors recommended I do more of it, since it seemed to be working.”

Eventually, this led Collins and his wife to live on board a houseboat, but more immediately, Collins began searching for something “epic” to do, something that hadn’t been attempted before, to reflect the recovery experience that he and other vets have gone through.

Compared to other water sports, stand-up paddleboarding has a relatively short history of record-setting achievements, so he set out to paddle his way along an estimated 3,500 miles of U.S. coastline, which he conceded was ultimately closer to 2,700.

“Overcoming the challenges of being on the open water is a lot like the other obstacles I’ve faced in life,” said Collins, who has obtained a service dog while weaning himself off medication as much as possible. “Making connections with other people is the cure.”

PIRATE MIKE

One of those connections, on the west coast of Florida, was a kayaker nicknamed “Pirate Mike,” whom Collins laughingly credited with doing “everything you’re not supposed to do in boating.”

Armed with a cast-iron Dutch oven, a silicone gun for boat leaks and a bottle of vodka, Pirate Mike had been on the water for roughly a month, and while he and Collins bonded, Collins considered it for the best for Pirate Mike that a police patrol turned out to be around the next bend.

“We were behind a culvert that was blocking the wind,” Collins said. “There were 2-foot swells on the open water.”

Collins stocked up for his trip a bit more responsibly, with his wife following his route as best she could in her RV on land, supplying him with essential calories in the form of trail mix and olive oil.

“I must have eaten 6,000 calories of trail mix alone each day,” said Collins, who went to a dentist to repair a cracked crown after his travels. “If you try and carry all the drinking water you’ll need, you’ll sink very quickly.”

IMPROVING BRAIN FUNCTION

Collins acknowledged that paddling for as long as 12 hours, covering up to 40 miles a day, for close to five months, was laborious, but he also credited it with helping to improve his brain functions.

“You’re retraining your nervous system,” Collins said. “You can feel movement in the water three times faster than you can see it.”

At the same time, the water can make estimations of distance deceptive, as when Collins struggled to reach coastlines while paddling against the current and inclement weather. He leaned on fellow seagoers and his support network on the other end of the phone to guide him to shore.

“There were times when I couldn’t tell north from south,” Collins said. “When you’re on the water, hallucinations don’t go away like they do when you’re on land. I would call my wife, and she’d tell me that they were tracking me at the National Geospatial Center.”

One night, Collins was so insensate by the time he came on shore and went to sleep that he woke up to the worst stench of his life, only to open his eyes and see a dead pelican’s lifeless eyes staring back at him.

“It smelled like putrid death, but I didn’t even notice when I crashed for the night,” Collins said.

RAISING MONEY FOR VETS

In the end, through a combination of online donations and media attention for the Task Force Dagger Foundation, Collins raised nearly $230,000 for fellow vets struggling to adjust to civilian life. He’d come to Port Townsend as part of the making of the film “Operation Torrent,” which is promoting his cause.

“This is just an amazing area,” Collins said. “The climate and marine environment remind me of Denmark or Sweden. The geographic ambiance and the people are overwhelming.”

The Pacific Northwest’s dramatic water conditions lend themselves well to Collins’ message, about how “the extreme elements of the water” serve as a real-life metaphor for making one’s way through the challenges of post-military civilian life, even for those without PTSD or traumatic brain injuries.

“What each of us does can be such an inspiration to others in finding their next step, their next paddle stroke or their next mission,” said Collins, who estimated he made 1.8 million paddle strokes on his own voyage. “You can’t always see it, but every stroke takes you closer to home.”

Learn more at

operationtorrent.com and

veteranvoyage360.com.