When it’s time for adventure, you know who wants to join. Whether or not your pup is a natural water dog, a canine life jacket is a wise choice. Not all dogs are natural-born swimmers, and even good swimmers can get tired. A PFD promises peace of mind and can keep an accident from turning into a tragedy.
Waterdog mode activate! | Photo: Kaydi Pyette
Do dogs need life jackets?
While many dogs are great swimmers, even the best doggy paddlers can’t swim forever. A dog who ends up in the water during an upset may panic, especially in current, waves or cold water, or just become exhausted trying to swim back to shore. Dogs can get tired and drown just like people—each year, thousands of dogs drown in pools in the United States, according to PetMD.
While even water-loving dogs should be equipped with life jackets, flotation is even more important for young puppies and senior dogs, flat-nosed breeds like pugs and bulldogs, and short-legged breeds like dachshunds, as well as dogs with health or mobility issues.
What to look for when buying a dog life jacket
There is no official coast guard standard for dog PFDs, so buyers need to research and opt for a reputable brand. One essential feature to look for is a handle on the top of the life jacket to hoist the dog back on board if they jump or fall off. A foam panel or thick straps under the chest and belly will help support the dog while lifting them.
High-viz colors help your dog stay visible to motorboaters in the water and some vests feature reflective material for even more visibility. For a dog more prone to sinking than floating, choose a life jacket with a chin float feature to help keep his head above water.
How to measure a dog for a life jacket
As with humans, the best life jacket is the one you wear. A dog’s life jacket needs to be functional, fit well, and comfortable to wear in and around the water.
First, weigh your dog to ensure they are within the weight ratings of a given size and brand of life jacket. Next, measure the circumference of your dog’s neck and the widest part of their chest and match those measurements with the appropriate size PFD. A properly fitting life jacket may look a little smaller than expected on your dog—ideally, the foam stops at the end of the pup’s rib cage or has a high cut at the rear.
“A common pitfall we see a lot is owners buy vests too large. It’s fine when the dog is standing, but when they sit down, it jabs into their hindquarters and the dog can’t sit back comfortably,” advises Steve Wagner, owner of Salus Marine Wear. He recommends the sit test when trying on a vest to ensure there’s space between the end of the vest and the dog’s hips so the dog can sit on the board or in the boat. A dog should also be able to lay down comfortably and relieve himself while wearing the life jacket.
This budget-friendly and simple design fits snug and secure without interfering with the dog’s normal activities. NRS uses their heaviest 1000-denier Cordura shell on the Canine Flotation Device (CFD), so it’s tough enough to withstand years of abuse. Features five adjustment points at the waist and neck, supportive belly straps, grab handle and a rugged leash ring, so you can use the vest as a walking harness or attach a strobe light. Includes reflective safety tape for extra visibility and a zippered pocket to stow a leash or poop bags.
The Skippy stands apart for its flotation placement—it wraps the belly, chest and sides in buoyancy where it can do the most good at and under the waterline, and puts mesh on the back of the life jacket for better breathability. Salus also added two grab handles on their larger vests so paddlers can lift their larger pooches back on board with both hands—necessary for a waterlogged Newfoundlander. Reflective trim, a mesh stash pocket, and tummy-saver padding will help protect active dogs.
Fashionable and functional, Ruffwear’s recently updated and brightly colored Float Coats will make your pup the belle of the beach. Soft, flexible foam provides excellent flotation and a plush, comfortable fit, while dirt and dog grime wipes off easily. Includes thoughtful details like a solid handle to lift dogs out of the water, a leash clip-in point under the handle and reflective trim to boost visibility in low-light conditions.
This trendy style is sold by a least a dozen brands on Amazon. While the shark-dog gag is a hit at the poolside cabana, in real life, the dorsal fin is prone to flopping over like a captive orca’s in Free Willy. This full-coverage style tends to hit the dog’s hindquarters and dig in when sitting. However, it does offer warmth during cool and blustery paddles.
The Granby Jacket’s chin float is perfect for a new swimmer still figuring out how to keep his head above water. This full-coverage jacket from Outward Hound offers top dual grab handles, neoprene belly band, three adjustable straps and reflective accents for better visibility. Outward Hound also makes a neoprene jacket with more insulation and less foam for strong swimmers in cold water environments.
This article was first published in Paddling Magazine Issue 64. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions here, or download the Paddling Magazine app and browse the digital archives here.
Ask the right questions, buy the right canoe. | Guy Mayer // Flickr
Maybe you want to buy a used canoe instead of a new one because you are on a budget. Or perhaps you think you won’t use your canoe enough to warrant a brand new one, or you just aren’t sure what to buy.
Whatever your reason, when buying a used canoe you must understand that not all canoes are created equal. Much like buying a used car, you need to figure out where to search, what model to buy, and what to specifically look for and avoid. Read on to find out what to look for when buying a used canoe.
Before you take a look at the used market, it’s a good idea to familiarize yourself with the common canoe brands you’re likely to come across. This is also a great resource when you find a used boat—you can read up on its specs, find out what it sells for new and discover what others think of it via reviews.
Understanding the wide variety of different materials used to construct canoes and the different issues that can affect each is important in your buying process.
Many of the red flags described below are not the end of the world or even a reason to not purchase. They are simply common attributes of used canoes you should be aware of, and with time and effort can be repaired.
Compared to wooden canoes, aluminum canoes are extremely low maintenance. First produced after World War II by the Grumman Aircraft Company, aluminum canoes are very durable, but also heavy, noisy and downright frigid on cold days.
They are often on the less expensive side and a good fit for casual day trips on flatwater or as a boat to have at the cottage. Their weight makes them challenging to portage.
You get what you see with aluminum canoes. Doug Chapman from Canadian Quetico Outfitters says having a good look at the number of dents on the canoe can give you a general idea if it has been well taken care of.
Leaks are easiest to identify with some pressure in the boat, so make sure you not only test paddle an aluminum canoe but bring along some gear. Sit in the seats and use your hands to check that the thwarts are secure.
Composite canoes
Composite canoes are made with materials like glass fiber, aramid or carbon fiber being laid in a mold and mixed with resins to produce a canoe hull. Composite canoes tend to be very light and stiff.
Used composite canoes will very likely have scratches on the hull, even if the owner was extremely careful. Most scratches are probably just cosmetic, but be wary of deep scratches or cracking that goes through the gel coat.
This can expose the fabric underneath, compromise the integrity of the canoe and require restorative work. Another concern for composite canoes is oil canning, which is when the hull bends and flexes while paddling instead of remaining rigid.
Kevlar canoes (Aramid composites)
Aramid composite canoes (Kevlar/Twaron) are stiff and light canoes composed with layers of fabric, cloth and resin. They are lighter but less strong than fiberglass composites. Their light weight makes them a good fit for canoe trips with lots of portaging.
One thing to watch out for with aramid canoes is float tanks that retain water. If you pick the canoe up and place it on your shoulders and notice it feels unbalanced—or you hear water sloshing around inside—this may be the cause. Aramid canoes will also fade to brown in the sun, which can give you an idea of where it was stored and the extent of the boat’s sun exposure.
Fiberglass canoes
Fiberglass composites are stiff, strong and efficient canoes. They can be good for whitewater, have sharp entry and exit lines, and stand up well to abrasion.
Fiberglass composite canoe quality greatly varies. For every good fiberglass canoe on the market, there are dozens of very poor quality counterparts. There is a range of construction processes—be particularly wary of home-built fiberglass.
Gordon Baker of Algonquin Outfitters says a good weight for a 16-foot fiberglass canoe is around 60 pounds. If it is closer to 80 or 90 pounds, this could reflect its lesser quality.
Carbon fiber canoes
Canoes with carbon fiber are extremely light, but also extremely expensive. Carbon fiber can be added in small sections on a canoe to strengthen without increasing the weight too significantly or can be applied as full layers mixed with other fabrics. Pure carbon canoes are designed for racing and can be slightly less durable than aramid.
Major cracks or scratches that expose fabric are not a good sign, but similar to other kinds of composites, surface scratches are almost unavoidable.
Royalex canoes
This has long been the canoe material of choice for whitewater paddling and long canoe trips. Royalex canoes are tough, durable and can stand up to heavy impact.
Royalex manufacturer PolyOne ceased production of the popular material in 2013, but Esquif Canoes began producing a similar material called T-Formex. You can still find used Royalex canoes for sale, but it is becoming more difficult as owners are holding onto them.
When examining a Royalex canoe, look for creases or wrinkles running up and down the hull, which can indicate if it has been wrapped and then punched out.
If there are new-looking skid plates, take a look at the boat from the inside to determine if they may be hiding damage. Also look for big dents, which can affect efficiency in the water. Scratches or scrapes become a bigger problem if they are worn through the colour layer to the underlying ABS.
Royalex canoes can also become brittle and develop soft chines from the sun over time. If you can take a look under the deck plates, it is possible to determine the true colour of the canoe and if it has spent considerable time fading outside in the sun. They are also susceptible to oil canning.
Wooden canoes
Wooden canoes are beautiful, glide quietly on the water and many have a rich history behind them. They are often heavy, and despite their past use as expedition canoes, are not generally the choice of modern trippers.
Many people who buy wooden canoes like the connection to nature through natural materials and enjoy the process of increased maintenance they require.
When looking at a used wooden canoe, look for signs of water damage and rot, typically found under deck plates and where the gunwales come together at the bow and stern.
Anyone can put in the time and effort to learn how to repair these parts of a wooden canoe, but the process is more involved and specialized than repairs on some other kinds of boats.
Mike Elliott of Kettle River Canoes has restored 200 wood-canvas canoes in the last 13 years and can count on one hand the number without rot. He says rot often occurs in parts of the canoes where water collects and fungus beings to grow, like the ends of the canoes and the undersides of outwales.
Rotting wood will be soft and show signs of crumbling away. Many wood-canvas canoes you will find for sale are around 40 years old, and the canvas may be in less than ideal condition.
A canvas that needs to be replaced will show cracks or paint flaking when the waterproof filler dries out over time. You may also see the canvas pulling away and rotting around the canoe’s brass stem bands.
Plastic canoes
The majority of plastic canoes are made of some form of polyethylene. Plastic canoes can be strong, heavy and are often less rigid and expensive than a composite or wooden canoe. Plastic canoes are very low maintenance and can handle being dragged to the shore and sliding over rocks.
A common problem with plastic canoes is oil canning, especially with less expensive plastics or from being left out in the sun. It is more common with used plastic canoes, but they can even show oil canning when new.
Plastic has a tendency to get brittle, especially from sun exposure, so make sure to find out how it has been stored. Another thing to look for is the surface of the plastic peeling or appearing fuzzy from use, a feature that can lead to drag in the water.
Look at the online classifieds like Craigslist or Kijiji to see what used canoes are for sale (and don’t forget the free sections of each site!). Often more canoes show up in the spring or the fall when canoeists are unloading their boats to get ready for the coming season.
Remember, just like buying a car from a private seller, you should ask lots of questions (see next section). Expand your search radius beyond the online classifieds in your immediate area; research nearby communities where paddling is especially popular. The perfect boat is worth traveling for.
Canoe rentals and outfitters
Many outfitters sell off a portion of their rental canoes each year. Ted East from Ontario’s Killarney Outfitters says they repair and sell many of their used canoes each fall as they rotate their fleet.
Other outfitters have one-day sales or sell from spring through to the fall. These rental fleet sales may not be advertised so call canoe outfitters in your area to check. Sometimes you can put your name on a list for a particular canoe or model.
Pretty little canoes, standing in a row, bom bom bom. | Photo: Flickr user Dave Mitchell
Other places to buy a used canoe: Garage sales, Facebook groups and more
You can also find used canoes at garage sales in paddling communities, Facebook groups, gear swaps, the local pennysaver (a free community periodical), and local canoe clubs and associations. Keep your eyes open everywhere you go because canoes turn up in the craziest places. We’ve bought used canoes at the end of farmers’ lanes and from ads posted in grocery stores. Remember, you don’t know it’s for sale unless you ask. And anything is probably for sale for the right price.
How much does a used canoe cost?
If you’re looking for a used canoe price guide, you should know that there isn’t a set price range for used canoes. It depends on the age, model, materials, how well it has been taken care of over its lifetime and what kind of canoeing you plan to do. The first thing you should do is find out how much the used canoe you are considering sells for brand new.
Canoes hold their value well if taken care of and don’t depreciate at the rapid rate cars do. With the new price in hand, factor in how the used canoe has been stored, how old it is, what kind of red flags you have identified and how many are on the market.
Algonquin Outfitters explains on their website that they often hear from people searching for a light Kevlar canoe for $300. Considering the $3,000 to $4,000 price tag for a brand new Kevlar canoe, a $300 one would likely be in rough shape. They advise that the lower the price of a used canoe, the more attention it will require from you.
At Trailhead Paddle Shack, canoes sold off from the rental and demo fleet after one season of use are generally marked down 35% from their new price depending on condition.
Canoe depreciation explained
East says a brand new canoe costing $3,500 could decrease in value about $1,000 during the first few years.
If a canoe isn’t damaged, the value can remain around $2,000 to $2,500 for the next five to six years, and after 15 to 20 years can have a forever price of $700 to $1,000 if it is still in decent shape.
Jeremy Ward at the Canadian Canoe Museum says you may be able to pick up an old wooden canoe for around $100—or even for free—and pay between $2,000 to $2,500 to have it completely restored by a professional.
However, once restored you may not be able to sell the canoe for the same amount you put into it. But for many buying wooden canoes, the pull isn’t about the resale value but instead the special quality of these boats and the sentiment they acquire over the years. At the other end of the spectrum, an old beater canoe can be bought for $100, and used aluminum canoes can fall anywhere between $150 to $700 depending on the condition.
While all the above is an important part of how to buy a used canoe, try to avoid making price the determining factor. When many people hold onto their canoes for 15 to 20 years, making sure it is the best fit for you is the top priority.
What kind of canoeing will you do?
The question of what to consider when buying a used canoe also comes down to what kind of canoeing you will be doing. In our annual Paddling Buyer’s Guide, we group canoes into six general categories: lakewater or touring, expedition, racing or training, recreational, sportsman and whitewater.
There is a common belief that a canoe is a canoe and that one canoe can do it all. Although this is true to some degree, it is also true that for each compromise there is a sacrifice in performance. A narrower canoe will be less stable.
Are you racing or going fishing? Are you going for a few hours or a few weeks? Will you be portaging or slamming down rocky whitewater rivers? Let’s first look a little deeper at the most popular canoe categories, and then we’ll cover a few other important things you need to consider.
Lakewater or touring canoes
Lakewater and touring canoes are designed for lakes and are sturdy and easy to control. They are great for canoe trips that pass through many lakes, especially with materials like ultralight aramids and carbon composites that can make multiple portages more enjoyable. They are often slightly longer and narrower than recreational canoes.
Expedition canoes
Expedition canoes are 18 to 20 feet long, typically have more depth in their bows, and are capable of fitting more gear for long trips. They have moderate rocker and are sometimes fitted with sprayskirts.
Racing or training canoes
Racing canoes are designed for maximum speed and performance. They are narrow, have straight tracking and very rigid hulls. They are generally 18 to 20 feet in length with very limited room inside for gear and are often made of extremely light materials like carbon.
Recreational canoes
Similar to lakewater or touring canoes, recreational canoes are stable and easy to maneuver but are often slightly wider and shorter at a length of 13 to 16 feet. They are a good fit for short day trips and use at the cottage.
Sportsman canoes
The stable sportsman canoes are popular with anglers and hunters, especially those looking for greater access than motorboats provide. They are stable, have medium to high gear capacity and many have square sterns for attaching outboard motors. They range from 16 to 18 feet in length.
Whitewater canoes
Whitewater canoes have a short waterline and lots of rocker, allowing greater maneuverability and quick turning. They are designed for one or two paddlers and some come equipped with whitewater-specific outfitting like sprayskirts and flotation bags.
How to decide on a solo or tandem canoe
Solo canoes
If rounding up fellow paddlers is tricky or you just enjoy your own company, buy a solo canoe. Why? Why not. Solo canoes are built specifically to be paddled by one person.
Typically they are shorter in length, around 14 feet. As a solo paddler, you probably have less gear and need less capacity within the canoe. Because they’re usually shorter and lighter, solo canoes are also easier to portage. Learn how to self-rescue from a solo canoe here.
Tandem and solo canoes
If you will be paddling mostly tandem and sometimes solo, look for a symmetrical canoe. This means it is shaped the same at both ends and can be paddled both ways.
Most are set up so you can paddle solo from the bow seat facing backward, placing you closer to the center of the canoe. Trust us, it works better this way. Give it a try.
Tandem canoes
If you’ll only be paddling tandem, you will have a great deal more choice when searching for your used canoe. Tandem canoes are commonly 16 feet long.
Some are shorter and some longer, but 16-foot canoes are the length of a hull that two paddlers can comfortably paddle and maximize hull speed. Going longer or shorter will depend on other factors like carrying capacity and weight. More on this below.
Cheap used canoes: good or bad idea?
People frequently tell us they are looking for a cheap used canoe. Cheap more often than not ends up meaning heavy.
If you asked the same people 800 yards into their third portage of the day, they would happily spend more money for a canoe that weighs less.
Buy a used canoe for the paddling you most often do
Your used canoe needs to match the kind of paddling you will most frequently be doing. If you are going on lengthy trips in the wilderness, you need something longer with more capacity for gear. Do you plan to take the whole family paddling? You will need something stable.
Want to run rapids? A small whitewater boat with generous rocker is the best bet. In short, buy your used canoe based on how you are going to use it.
There is nothing better than getting on the water and pursuing your adventures in a canoe. | Feature Photo: Flickr user Guy Mayer
What to ask before buying your next used canoe
Found a prospective boat and wondering how to actually go about buying it? No matter where you find a used canoe, you should be ready with a few important questions. Your goal is to understand the state of the canoe, if it has been properly looked after, if it has been repaired, how old it is and what it’s made of.
How and where has the canoe been stored?
This is a key question because improper storage has the potential to affect the performance and therefore the value of a canoe. Indoor storage is preferable, but outdoor storage isn’t a deal breaker.
A few seasons in the shade is no big deal, but the sun is the enemy. Prolonged sunbathing can bleach gel coats and warp plastic hulls.
Ideally, the used canoe has been stored upside down in a dry place. The weight of a canoe should be spread over racks to prevent hull deformity, something most common in plastic boats but possible for other materials too.
If the canoe has been hung by its deckplates, thwarts or carrying handles, keep in mind this can stress those parts of the boat. Ask if the canoe was stored with a tarp directly on top. If a tarp isn’t suspended above, it can trap moisture, potentially rotting the wooden part of any canoe, most commonly the gunwales.
How old is the canoe?
If the owner has no idea, locate the boat’s model number found in the hull and review it against the company catalogs. While this may not provide an exact date, it can give you a possible production window.
Have you done any repairs?
Ask what was repaired and have the seller point them out to you on the canoe. Also ask who did them and exactly what kind of damage warranted the fix to give you an idea of how the canoe has been treated.
There are a hundred reasons someone may want to sell a canoe. Maybe their partner finds the canoe too tippy. Perhaps they have had a few children since acquiring the canoe and now it’s too small. Their reasons for not wanting the boat may end up becoming your reasons too. Avoid buying the wrong used canoe by having this chat upfront.
What trips have you done in this canoe?
Asking this can give you a sense of how much use the canoe has had and what kind of paddling it is good for.
Test-paddling a used canoe
Since you are buying a used canoe as opposed to a brand new boat, you need to take it for a test paddle to really understand its condition. The most important thing about test paddling a canoe is to treat it the way you will once it is yours.
If you are testing a tripping canoe to take on long expeditions, bring all the gear you expect to travel with and place it in the canoe. A canoe for whitewater should be tested in rapids and a canoe that will take you on portage-heavy trips needs to go for a walk.
Keep an eye out for any leaks. Sit in the seats and test the yoke to ensure stability. Hold the gunwales to see if they are secure. Look for oil canning. Paddle straight into waves and see if water flares off the sides of the bow or lands in the lap of the paddler in front. Ted East has a reliable technique for testing canoe stability. He places the canoe in shallow water with his paddle blade in the water touching the ground for support while he leans to the sides to see how much weight it takes to move water over the gunwales.
Inspecting a used canoe for damage
The last step in this used canoe buying guide is checking the canoe over for wear and damage. Many signs of wear and tear on a used canoe can be fixed with some TLC and a willingness to learn. Remember—you aren’t buying a brand new product, so don’t write off a used canoe because of some imperfections.
You can paint, re-canvas, add new skid plates, redo gunwales, tighten or replace seats, yokes and thwarts, repair broken ribs and rivets, and patch holes. Many replacement parts are not expensive; new canoe seats and yokes can be bought for under $100 each.
Superficial scratches on a canoe aren’t always a cause for concern. Many boats, especially whitewater and tripping canoes and those made of composites, can have surface scratches but still be in great shape. Even small holes are pretty straightforward to patch.
A wealth of resources exist online and in print for repairing each kind of canoe, and by taking advantage of these you can potentially get a lower price on a used canoe. Many canoe manufacturers and outdoor stores will sell repair kits tailored for specific canoe materials. Significant damage, like large holes that compromise the seaworthiness of the used canoe, or major structural damage, may mean a much more expensive undertaking for a home repair or professional restoration.
There is nothing better than getting on the water and pursuing your adventures in a canoe. | Feature Photo: Flickr user Guy Mayer
A terrifying encounter between a grizzly bear and a kayaker unfolded on the Elaho River in Squamish, British Columbia.
In the video, posted on Instagram by Corey Boux, the grizzly can be seen charging towards the kayaker as nearby whitewater rafters slow down and nervously watch. At the time of the incident in 2018, Boux was working as a tour guide from Wedge Rafting at Tag Whistler.
The rafters can initially be heard hooting and hollering with excitement as they spot the majestic animal on the river bank. The sentiment of the group quickly turns from awe to fear as the bear begins to charge after the kayaker.
When the bear was approximately 5 metres away, the kayaker sprung into action and paddled furiously away.
Boux commented that the grizzly bear “was guarding a dead elk. It stood up, looked at the 3 rafts, looked at the kayaker and bolted after him. I’ve spent a f*** ton of time around grizzlies. They are pretty unpredictable, especially if guarding a food source.”
Refusing to be defeated by the challenges that the pandemic brought about in 2020, Bren Orton and a handful of fellow pro kayakers managed to pack their bags and rally out to Norway to sample some of the country’s late-season classics.
Norway—a mecca for stunning scenery and big water drops—is a bucket list destination for most whitewater paddlers. In his most recent short film, Bren commented that, due to being so late in the year, their trip entailed searching for and chasing rivers that still had good flow.
“Travel restrictions and a short season gave us little more than ten days to chase the last of the water this year in Norway,” he said. “Regardless, we still had an amazing time in this country and were reminded once again that for a kayaker especially, life is always good in Norway.”
From watching the footage, it seems like the “Send” crew were successful in finding some of the world’s biggest and most technical whitewater rapids.
Australian canoe slalom champion Jess Fox has been the talk of the internet in recent weeks. Sure, she just bagged two Olympic medals and made history as part of a pioneering cohort of female Olympic competitors in canoe slalom—but what really seemed to spark the internet’s attention was this ingenious DIY boat fix of hers.
She posted the hilarious video on her TikTok channel with the text, “very stretchy, much strong” as the latex condom is stretched over the nose of the slalom kayak.
It appears the hull of the boat had come into contact with a wall or obstacle on the whitewater course and needed to be patched. She and her coach were able to patch up the end with some carbon mixture and seal the fix with the condom pulled over.
Should you try this fix at home? Probably not–but we will commend Jess and her team’s resourcefulness and creativity in this less-than-ideal situation. Heck, it works!
Iridium announces partnership with Canadian Coast Guard
I ridium Communications Inc. (NASDAQ:IRDM) announced that the Canadian Coast Guard has adopted Iridium Certus connectivity with support from Iridium partner MetOcean Telematics. The Coast Guard deployed dozens of Iridium Certus Thales VesseLINK 700 terminals on its vessels, including icebreakers, to contribute to reliable internet connectivity as crew members deliver programs and services to ensure the safety of mariners in Canadian waters and protect Canada’s marine environment. Iridium Certus delivers weather-resilient and completely global coverage, ensuring dependable connectivity in the high Arctic where the Coast Guard serves.
The Canadian Coast Guard responds to marine search and rescue and environmental incidents, provides icebreaking and aids to navigation services, and ensures waterways are safe and accessible for business year-round including in the Arctic during the operational season from June to November. While on duty in the high Arctic, the Iridium network supports Coast Guard ships’ and crew members’ ability to stay in touch with headquarters. Iridium Certus connectivity also supports the Coast Guard’s general safety with access to navigational data and weather reports, which is a large improvement from historical solutions.
“Reliable internet connectivity onboard our vessels helps contribute to our crew members’ well-being and ensures that our crews are able to carry out the Canadian Coast Guard’s services to protect mariners and the marine environment. Having a support network to ensure we never lose that vital connection with our shore-based personnel and services is vital in the Arctic,” says Mario Pelletier, Commissioner of the Canadian Coast Guard.
“The Canadian Coast Guard provides essential services that keep things moving safely in the Arctic waterways all year round,” says Matt Desch, CEO, Iridium. “Iridium is proud to support the Coast Guard’s initiatives by enabling them to stay connected no matter how far north or remote their duty takes them.”
“MetOcean is pleased to support the communication efforts of the Canadian Coast Guard. Providing its members with 24/7 real-time secure voice, data, and crew communications services and support,” says Tony Chedrawy, CEO, MetOcean Telematics. “The requirements of Coast Guard personnel while deployed in the Arctic are immeasurable, as they are dedicated to maintaining the safety of mariners as well as protecting the marine environment, within the high Arctic. MetOcean is committed to ensure that Coast Guard personnel are always connected with their command stations.”
The only communications network providing reliable coverage to the polar regions, Iridium enables critical communications and safety services for anyone traveling through the world’s most dangerous-to-navigate regions. Unique in the satellite industry, Iridium Certus delivers the fastest L-band speeds in the world – even at the poles – and is the only broadband service that provides truly global, weather-resilient coverage for on-the-move internet and high-quality voice access. As an L-band network, Iridium is also uniquely positioned to provide safety services, including those for the Global Maritime Distress and Safety System (GMDSS), which Iridium launched in December 2020.
ARCATA, CA (July 28, 2021) – After 50 years under the direction and ownership of its founder, Steve O’Meara, Kokatat has been purchased by the company’s Director of Operations Mark Loughmiller.
“Before joining Kokatat Mark was a local businessman and I’m pleased to be entrusting the company that means so much to me and our employees into his hands,” said O’Meara.
Loughmiller joined Kokatat in 2013 after 12 years as the Executive Director of Arcata Community Recycling Center.
“Kokatat is not only a cornerstone brand in paddlesports, but also in our community,” said Loughmiller. “Steve has created an amazing brand that will forever be tied to Arcata and we look forward to building on this foundation for another 50 years and beyond.”
Photo: Courtesy Kokatat
2021 marks the 50th anniversary of Kokatat. O’Meara started Kokatat, then Blue Puma, in 1971 purely as a way to help get people out on the trails and waterways of Humboldt County. On one fateful day he was approached by some friends to see if he would build them some better paddling apparel for an expedition they were planning on the Alsek River in British Columbia. Today, Kokatat is recognized as a global leader in performance paddle sports apparel and gear.
Following the purchase, Loughmiller will become the company’s CEO and O’Meara will retain a minor stake in the company.
Terms of the agreement were not disclosed.
About Kokatat Inc.
Kokatat has been manufacturing paddling gear in Arcata, California for 50 years. At a time when many technical apparel brands were moving manufacturing offshore, Kokatat continued to invest in infrastructure in the United States. Kokatat founder Steve O’Meara was committed to the development of the finest and driest paddling apparel in the world and recognized the need to control and continually evolve the development of our dry wear. In the early days, Kokatat worked closely with W.L. Gore & Associates, makers of GORE-TEX®, to refine the sewing and sealing techniques required for full immersion suits and tops. Today, our hands-on approach to manufacturing continues to set the standard in paddling apparel. Into the water with Kokatat! Learn more at kokatat.com.
Michael Collin (he/ him/ his)
Director • o 802.583.6069 michael@palemorning.com
Pale Morning Media • Public relations and strategic communications
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After refusing to heed the warnings of locals, two ambitious sea kayakers set out to paddle to “Monkey Island” on Lake Catemaco in Veracruz, Mexico.
Despite the clue being in the name, the kayakers were taken by surprise when an aggressive monkey swung at them from a low-hanging set of trees skirting the shoreline.
The kayakers had edged a little too close for comfort when the monkey began to lash out. One of the paddlers, Daniel Mendoza, commented that they had been warned not to get too close to the animals. ”They are wild and curious animals,” he said.
Mendoza commented that one monkey even bit his PFD and his hair, though neither the monkey nor paddlers were harmed as a result of the incident. “I didn’t see it coming, but it was very funny,” he said.
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“This is why the habitants recommend that we shouldn’t approach the monkeys,” he concluded in his video recap of events. A good reminder, we hope, that monkeys are unpredictable and wild animals and when wildlife watching, one should remain at a safe distance and paddle with extreme caution.
Miner’s Castle Point in fine weather. When the squall hit, the kayakers were unable to round it and reach the beach beyond. | Photo: Allie Fox/Creative Commons
It was meant to be another boy’s trip, the latest in a tradition that stretched back more than two decades for old friends Jim Farrington, Sean Royston and Tolan Annis. It turned into a life-and-death struggle in the chill waters of Lake Superior.
Jim, 49, was an electrical lineman out of Alden, Michigan. Sean, 48, had worked with Jim early in their careers, later becoming and electrical grid systems manager in Cottage Grove, Wisconsin. He met Tolan, 53, through their local homebrew club, and became a silent partner in Sanctuary Spirits, the craft distillery Tolan opened in 2014 and poured his heart into. All three were married, Tolan and Sean with grown kids.
Every other year for more than two decades, the friends had done a big outdoor trip together. Early on they specialized in backpacking, but shifted to kayaking as they got older. “At the end of our last end-to-end Isle Royale hiking trip, we all looked at each other and said ‘We gotta find a better way to do this,’” Tolan explained.
Miner’s Castle Point in fine weather. When the squall hit, the kayakers were unable to round it and reach the beach beyond. | Photo: Allie Fox/Creative Commons
The trio bought sea kayaks and began exploring Lake Superior’s classic paddling destinations, including Isle Royale, Grand Island and the Apostle Islands. By 2016, the only bucket-list kayaking trip on Superior’s south shore they hadn’t done was the challenging out-and-back route at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. They planned a weeklong trip, starting on Sept. 13.
A front moved through that morning, bringing clouds and drizzle. The men waited for the weather to clear and launched from the beach at Sand Point, less than 100 yards from the park headquarters. They shoved off between 10:30 and 10:45 a.m.
The forecast called for winds building to 10 knots and seas rising to 1–3 feet by early afternoon, and then stronger winds overnight. The trio punched out through small waves and headed northeast. Soon the national lakeshore’s trademark cliffs began to rise on their right. Their next chance to get out of their kayaks would be some five miles ahead, beyond a tourist overlook called Miner’s Castle Point. That was their first escape option and they’d discussed it that morning during what Jim calls their “tailboard”—linemen’s jargon for a safety and planning briefing.
“It’s literally just ingrained in us through our work that you always have a tailboard whenever you’re doing something different to make sure everybody’s on the same page,” Jim said. “So we kind of bring that back into our adventures.”
On the water, the headwind grew to the forecasted 10 knots, and kept rising. The waves built from 1–2 feet to 3–4 feet. Still, none of them considered turning around. They were making good time—Jim’s GPS showed them averaging 3.6 mph despite the rising headwind—and all of them had paddled in more challenging conditions. Then, quite suddenly, the waves grew to 6 feet and steepened. The wind rose to 20 knots.
“When it went bad, it went bad fast,” said Tolan, who was in the lead about 60 feet ahead of Jim. Sean trailed another 40 or 50 feet behind Jim. He was the first to go over.
The Rocks
Sean grabbed for the release strap on his sprayskirt and kicked free of his boat. It was a bad place to swim. The water temperature was 62 degrees, a steep 6-foot swell was running and the wind was pushing him toward the sheer cliffs about 100 yards away. Miner’s Point was a quarter-mile or more dead upwind, and the closest safe landing beach was another quarter-mile beyond that.
Sean had only one good option: Get back into his boat and paddle around the point to safety. Fortunately, he was relatively well equipped to do that. Like Jim and Tolan, he carried a paddle float and pump in the deck rigging of his 16-foot Current Designs sea kayak. He was dressed in waterproof paddling pants and a dry top, and he was wearing a Type III life jacket designed for kayaking.
The colorful sandstone cliffs of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore rise as high as 200 feet from Lake Superior and offer no place for a kayaker to land. | Photo: Allie Fox/Creative Commons
He also had help. When Jim heard Sean go over he quickly came to assist, while Tolan held station about 150 feet ahead, keeping his bow pointed into the waves. Though none of the three had taken any formal kayaking courses, they’d all practiced self-rescue and assisted rescue techniques. The drills had become a regular feature of their trips—flipping over into the chill waters of Lake Superior and then clambering back in as the others offered help, advice and plenty of mocking banter. But this was no laughing matter. This was life and death.
Jim brought his boat parallel to Sean’s and steadied it as Sean inflated his paddle float—an inflatable bladder that fits over one blade of the paddle to provide added stability—and scrambled into his cockpit, which was now full of water. He began working the small plastic hand pump, but couldn’t stay ahead of the waves. “The pumping was just no use,” he said. “I’d get close and another wave would come over and just gully-wash us.” As Sean pumped, the paddle float slipped off his paddle. He’d forgotten to clip it on.
Jim’s grip held, but the handle didn’t. The T-grip tore clean out of the kayak, and Sean slid back into the crashing surf.
Most paddling fatalities result from a combination of small mistakes and unlucky turns of fate, each building on the next. The men were already four mistakes in. They’d launched into bad weather. They hadn’t turned around when they still could. Sean had capsized. Now they’d lost a useful safety item. In the next 20 minutes, the mistakes would come faster, compounded by rotten luck.
As Sean and Jim tried to pump out Sean’s boat, the wind pushed them closer to the cliffs, into shallower water where the waves became even steeper. A wave landed in Jim’s lap and blew out the cheap nylon sprayskirt he purchased with his Old Town Adventure 16 kayak years before.
Soon after that, another big wave rolled both Sean and Jim into the water.
At that moment, Jim says, his first concern was saving himself. “It may sound cold, but it’s kind of like they tell you on an airplane when somebody needs assistance putting on a mask, you put yours on first. You can’t help if you are in the same position they are,” he said. Jim was able to self-rescue without his paddle float, which he’d given to Sean to replace the one that had drifted away. Sean managed to get back into his boat as well—his second re-entry of the day.
When they looked up they saw Tolan in the water, clinging to his boat.
Miner’s Castle Point in a November storm. | Photo: Courtesy National Park Service
Jim and Sean started toward him. With their kayaks rafted together for stability they each paddled “canoe style,” using one hand to paddle and one to grasp the other’s kayak. But with the boats full of water, facing into big swell and 20 knots of wind, they could make no progress. Tolan was on his own.
“By this time my arms are just giving out,” Sean said. “I looked at Jim and said ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ We kept getting closer and closer to the cliffs and at some point I looked him and said, ‘We gotta call. We gotta call now.’”
Jim had a handheld VHF radio clipped to his life jacket. “We were trying on Channel 16 and Channel 9, calling ‘Mayday, three kayakers stranded at Miner’s Rock,’” he said. But no one heard the distress calls. The steep cliffs blocked the radio signal from reaching the Park Service headquarters or anyone else on land, and no vessels were on the lake. A small craft advisory had been issued just after the kayakers launched, so the tour boats that normally ply the lakeshore were tied to their piers. Jim and Sean were on their own too.
A few minutes after the Mayday call, Jim capsized a second time. When he got back in his boat the radio was gone, stripped from his life jacket when he self-rescued, together with his cell phone and GPS unit, which had also been attached to his life jacket.
Throughout the ordeal, Sean and Jim had been trying to make it around Miner’s Castle Point, about a quarter-mile upwind. Now they realized that even that short upwind distance was impossible in their waterlogged kayaks, and they began looking for an alternative.
From the water, there looked to be a narrow rocky shelf at the base of the cliffs that rise about 90 feet out of the water. Jim and Sean decided to take their chances on the ledge, where they hoped they could get enough purchase to drain their kayaks before continuing around the point. Getting there was no problem—the wind and waves were pushing them in that direction. But when they arrived, they realized the ledge was an illusion. It was actually a partially submerged strip of sandstone, and it was being pummeled by head-high waves.
Jim was first to arrive, and somehow managed to get to his feet and reached for the plastic T-handle in the bow of his kayak. Jim was 6’3” and 230 pounds, a big man used to working with his hands. He closed his grip around the handle and braced himself to hold his kayak, which was lashed to Sean’s boat with Sean holding on to it. Jim’s grip held, but the handle didn’t. All that weight tore the T-grip clean out of Jim’s kayak. The two boats and Sean slid back into the crashing surf.
“This was the tough part,” Sean said, his voice strained. “I just kept getting rolled. My knees were all scraped up, my elbows all scraped up. I just kept getting knocked down.”
The overlook was close enough that he could hear the thump of car doors as families visited the scenic attraction. He hollered until he was hoarse, but no one heard him.
Jim reached out a hand, but could do nothing to help as the waves thrashed Sean, pushing him along the shoreline. The cliff was too steep for Jim to follow, and within minutes Sean was 150 feet away. Sean had lost contact with the boats, which disappeared around a small outcropping. Soon Sean, too, was out of sight.
“The last time I saw him he was separated from his boat, rolling through the waves toward the rock formation,” Jim said. “And in my mind I swore his life jacket was unzipped.”
Jim had been so focused on Sean’s ordeal that he hadn’t even looked for Tolan. Now, from his vantage point close to the water, he could see nothing but waves. Less than half an hour after Sean’s initial capsize, all three men were separated. Sean was in the water without his boat, possibly—in Jim’s estimation probably—already dead. Tolan was nowhere to be seen. No one had answered Jim’s Mayday. Now he was stranded on the rocks, his radio and cell phone somewhere on the bottom of Lake Superior.
Jim tried to follow Sean along the shoreline, walking the narrow strip of shoreline like a tightrope artist. He eventually made it around the small outcropping Sean had been pushed around, but not before the waves knocked him off the rocks three more times.
As Jim clawed his way out of the water the third time, Tolan came floating by. He was holding his waterlogged boat, with one hand on the cockpit rim and his paddle wedged under the other arm. He’d been kicking toward Miner’s Castle Point for the better part of an hour, trying to get around the point to land at Miner’s Beach, but despite that effort had lost ground in the powerful wind.
The men yelled to each other at the top of their lungs, but communication was hopeless.
“I thought he asked where’s Sean,” Jim recalled. “So I yelled back, ‘Last time I saw him, that way!’ and I pointed to the west,” away from Miner’s Castle. Tolan started moving in that direction and soon disappeared from Jim’s sight around another small outcropping.
Jim later found a broken tree trunk and used it to scramble higher, eventually climbing about halfway up the 90-foot face. The Miner’s Point overlook was just above him, close enough that he could hear the thump of car doors closing as families visited the scenic attraction. He hollered until he was hoarse, but no one heard him. Jim knew he needed to make himself seen. He found a spot on a 35-degree slope and hunkered there on his haunches, pulling his sprayskirt over his knees against the blustery wind. It was time to wait.
Sean struggled in the surf zone until the waves finally spat him back into the lake, where he lay exhausted on his back, staring at the clear blue sky. He fastened his life jacket—it had indeed come unzipped in the fray, but stayed on—and considered his options.
Miner’s Point was barely a quarter mile to the northeast, but with the wind and swell coming from that direction it may as well have been on the moon. Sean decided to turn downwind, toward Sand Point where they had launched that morning. It was three and a half miles away, along a shoreline girded with steep cliffs.
A U.S. Coast Guard patrol boat pounded through 40 miles of heavy seas to join the search for the kayakers. | Photo: Courtesy National Park Service
“I’m a swimmer and I just said, ‘Well, let’s just start kicking,’” Sean said. “And basically I kicked. I kicked for hours. I kept looking up over my right shoulder and finding a point on that cliff—like there’s a downed birch tree, or there’s a little waterfall—and then I would keep going until it was perpendicular to me and then it was ‘Okay, just pick another spot.’ Keep kicking.”
The water was unseasonably warm for Superior at that time of year, about 62 degrees Fahrenheit. Sean was dressed in waterproof paddling pants and a dry top over shorts and a quick dry T-shirt. The combination wasn’t completely waterproof, but it did slow the ingress of water. Sean didn’t feel particularly cold, but he knew it was only a matter of time until hypothermia began to set in. He needed to get out of the water, and the only way out was to keep kicking.
After about three hours of sustained kicking, Sean had made it most of the way back to Sand Point. The steep cliffs finally gave way to a thick cedar swamp.
“I got to a point where the shelf was probably four feet deep and I could actually walk up and grab some of the branches. But the underbrush was so thick, you would have to be a squirrel to get inside there,” Sean said. He kept going, now wading in chest-deep water, pulling himself from branch to branch. After about half an hour of this, he came to the mouth of a tiny creek, sheltered from the waves by a fallen tree. It gave him just enough of an opening to drag himself out of the water.
He followed the creek bed into the cedar thicket and almost immediately spotted a decked walkway. He started down the trail as fast as he could walk, blowing right by an older couple taking pictures.
“I didn’t say anything to them, I just kept on going. I pop out in this parking lot, and this is no joke—the National Park Service guy is driving by right as I pop out of there, and I wave him down,” Sean said.
“He slowed down and passed me about five yards, and I just sat my ass down in the sand. He got out and says, ‘Are you okay’ and I say ‘No.’”
It was just before 5 p.m. Sean, Jim and Tolan had gone into the water at least four and a half hours earlier. Authorities were only now learning of the accident.
The ranger, Bill Jones, immediately initiated a search and rescue operation. Within minutes, the National Park Service launched its lake patrol boat Arrowhead and began searching the shoreline between Sand Point and Miner’s Castle. The U.S. Coast Guard dispatched a 45-foot patrol boat from its Marquette station about 40 miles west of Tolan and Jim’s last known location, and scrambled an MH-65 Dolphin rescue helicopter from Air Station Traverse City, 135 air miles south.
With the cavalry on the way, Sean and the ranger went looking for Tolan at Miner’s Beach. As they drove, Jones repeatedly asked Sean where and when he’d capsized. The ranger was trying to judge Sean’s mental state and whether he’d really been in the water for more than four hours. At Miner’s Beach they found no sign of Tolan. They drove to the next campground—again, no Tolan—and then back to Miner’s, where an ambulance was waiting for Sean.
“It was tough, because I knew I was going to be pulled from the game,” he said. “That was it. I prayed. There wasn’t much else to do.”
This video was recorded by the U.S. Coast Guard air crew that hoisted Jim Farrington from the cliff near Miners Castle. Video: Courtesy USCG
Jim
Jim hadn’t moved much since becoming separated from Sean. He was wearing his bright red paddling top and life jacket, in the middle of a clear patch of sandstone about midway up the 90-foot cliff. Though he’d lost his glasses in the water, Jim spotted the Arrowhead’s flashing light bar as soon as the boat cleared Grand Island.
“The biggest relief in my life was seeing them blue flashing lights that no one ever wants to see in the rearview mirror,” Jim said. “When I saw those lights I knew one of them two guys made it to shore, and I really hoped it was Sean because I didn’t have high hopes for him.”
When the Arrowhead arrived a few minutes later, Jim started working his way toward the shoreline. Using the boat’s loudspeaker, rangers told him in no uncertain terms to stay put. A rescue was underway.
“I actually work within sight of the Coast Guard Air Station, and the first thing in my mind is, ‘Please don’t be a helicopter,’ because if it was I knew there’s going to be video of all this stuff,” Jim said, laughing. But with the wind still blowing 20 knots and 6–7 foot waves pounding the coast, there was no way for the Arrowhead to recover Jim. It was going to be the helicopter.
The chopper arrived on station at 6:29 p.m. It wasn’t going to be an easy rescue. Jim was on a steep slope backed by an almost-sheer cliff fringed with tall trees. To pluck Jim from the rocks, pilots Lt. Cmdr. Jason Blyth and Lt. John Reid would have to hover uncomfortably close to the tree-lined cliff and lower rescue swimmer Travis Nash from more than five times the preferred height, in swirling 20-knot winds.
“The helicopter crew told me they normally do a rescue with 40 feet of cable off the drum. There was 210 feet of cable off the drum out of the 260 feet they carry,” Jim said. “There were actually leaves and small twigs flying out of the trees that they were next to down to me on the rocks. So the fact they were able to do what they did amazes me.”
The aircrew hoisted Jim from an unusually high altitude in order to stay clear of the cliff and trees, and then moved over the lake to reel him to the aircraft. | Photo: Courtesy National Park Service
The aircrew reported Jim safely aboard at 7:06 p.m., and flew six miles to the Munising Memorial Hospital. The town’s streetlamps were already glowing when the chopper set down in the hospital parking lot to drop Jim. After a quick refueling stop the helicopter lifted off to join the Arrowhead and the Coast Guard patrol boat in the search for Tolan, who had gone into the water about 7 hours before.
The search centered around Miner’s Castle where Tolan had last been seen, but he was already miles to the west.
Tolan
When Tolan capsized, he was about 150 feet from the others—too far away for them to help or to communicate. Tolan tried several times to self-rescue using the paddle-float technique, without success. He tried to pump out his flooded cockpit but couldn’t keep up with the water pouring in. After a few minutes of pumping and multiple attempts to get back into his boat, he decided to get into a stable position and wait for the others to assist him. “I figured Jim would get Sean in the boat, because he’s a stud, and then he’d come to help me,” he said. But the next time he looked for Sean and Jim, they were gone.
Tolan now made a series of judgments, any one of which may have been the difference between life and death. First, he determined he couldn’t get back into his boat unaided. Second, he decided to stay with his kayak at all costs. Tolan knew Jim had a handheld VHF radio and assumed that he’d called for help. He also knew that his 14-foot orange kayak would be far easier for rescuers to spot than a lone swimmer dressed in blue and gray. The kayak offered secure flotation and was packed with the drinking water, food and dry clothes he’d need when he got to the beach. That was his plan—kick with the kayak around Miner’s Point and land at Miner’s Beach. The problem, of course, is that the 20-knot winds were whipping around the point, making progress in that direction all but impossible.
Tolan estimates he’d been kicking for about an hour when he spotted Jim on the cliff. He stopped kicking to let the wind and waves push him within shouting distance. What each of them said, and what each thought he heard, offers a lesson about the way people think in emergency situations.
Jim was fixated on what had become of Sean, whom he had just seen washed out of sight. Tolan’s primary focus was finding a safe place to get out of the water. From the edge of the breaking surf, Tolan shouted to Jim, “Hey where’s a good place to beach?”
Jim thought he was asking where Sean was. “I yelled back, ‘Last time I saw him, that way!’ and pointed to the west down the shore,” Jim recalled. With that, Tolan abandoned his plan to go around the point and began kicking west instead.
Tolan had settled into a secure position with his right hand gripping his kayak’s cockpit rim and his paddle wedged under his left arm. One end of the paddle was tucked into the boat’s deck rigging, and the paddle float clipped to the other end. It was a stable arrangement, but it also meant he had to push the kayak sideways through the water. It was slow going.
“I would kick that way, or turn the boat around and try and lay on my back and pull the boat because you just get so fatigued you’re trying to mix it up,” he says. Like the others, he was wearing a dry top and paddling pants over light synthetic pants and shirt, with neoprene paddling booties. Water had begun to seep in and collect around his ankles.
The hours flowed together. Tolan kept kicking. “Normally when you have a situation go bad on you it happens really fast, and adrenaline carries you through it. But seven hours—there is no adrenaline left,” he said. “I had no sense of time but I’d seen the sun go across the sky. I could start to feel myself becoming slightly hypothermic. I was getting real sleepy, my hands were starting to shake and I thought to myself, ‘You’ve gotta get out of this water soon or it’s not going to end well.’”
About a mile from Sand Point, he saw his chance—a low spot in the cliff with a thick tree root reaching down. Tolan thought he could use the root to pull himself out of the water.
“The boat cockpit’s full of water, the waves are still beating hard, so now all of a sudden as I’m trying to grab this root the boat is becoming a weapon against me. It’s beating me up.” After holding onto the boat for seven hours, Tolan made the difficult decision to let it go. He managed to pull himself up the root to the edge of the thicket atop the low cliff. By the time he got there the boat had drifted out of sight.
Tolan continued along the ridgeline, snapping branches with every step, hoping the boat might get caught up in the underbrush. That’s exactly what happened. When he caught up to the boat Tolan was able to climb back down the cliff and recover a few pieces of essential gear. “I needed food, I needed water and I needed to change my clothes,” he says. “And I needed a sleeping bag because I was going to be in the woods for the night.”
The colorful sandstone cliffs of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore rise as high as 200 feet from Lake Superior and offer no place for a kayaker to land. | Photo: Allie Fox/Creative Commons
Tolan threw some dry bags up onto the cliff. He changed clothes, gulped water and shoveled handfuls of GORP into his mouth. Then he started along the cliff, knowing it eventually would lead him to the launch beach.
“Fatigue was just immense at that point. I’d take two or three steps and just collapse, then pull myself back up take two or three more,” he said. “And then all of a sudden it dawned on me that I have a dry box and a phone, and I don’t know if anybody knows about Jim and Sean.”
There’s very little cell service around Pictured Rocks, but Tolan turned on the phone and caught a little bit of signal. “The 911 operator knew who I was. She said ‘We’ve already got the other two, so you stay put because I’ve got a GPS on your location now.’”
Tolan’s 911 call came as the Coast Guard chopper was finishing its refueling stop. In the ER, Jim and Sean overheard a Park Service radio call saying they had a status on the last missing kayaker. Before they could hear it, someone turned down the volume on the scanner, perhaps to protect them from bad news. More often than not, seven hours in Lake Superior is fatal.
The helicopter flew to the position the 911 operator gave them, but even circling almost directly above Tolan they couldn’t see him in the gathering dusk. Finally they spotted a pinprick of light through the underbrush. It was Tolan signaling with his headlamp.
The helicopter held station to mark Tolan’s position as a team of NPS rangers made their way to him. “When we finally met up it was well past dark,” Tolan says. The rangers judged him well enough to hike out, and they bushwhacked back to the trail and walked about a half-mile back to Sand Point, where the three friends had launched that morning.
Reunion
When the rangers took his vitals, Tolan’s body temperature had recovered to within 2 degrees of normal. They asked if he wanted to be admitted to the hospital, and he said no way. “I said my jeep is a block away, I’d just as soon go down to the hospital and pick the other guys up.
“I went down to the emergency room and Jim and Sean are just wearing hospital scrubs—pants and tops—and socks,” Tolan said. “We get out of there, it’s pretty late at night and so we go to a grocery store and all they had were women’s flip-flops with sparkles and stuff, so they bought a couple pairs and then we asked, ‘Hey is there a restaurant open around here?’”
They wound up in nearby Christmas, Michigan, a town of 400 thoroughly committed to a year-round Santa Claus theme. As luck would have it, the town also is home to a small casino. Workers there listened to their story and re-opened the kitchen for them. “The gal comes over and says, ‘What do you want?’ and I say ‘Well, I’ll take a whiskey,” says Tolan, the distillery owner. The three friends toasted their good fortune and gorged themselves on fried-chicken strips, then retreated to a nearby hotel for hot showers and clean beds.
The next day they walked the shoreline—Jim and Sean in hospital scrubs and women’s sandals—and recovered all three boats, as well as wallets, keys and most of their gear. All three would be returning to their families.
The rescue did make the news, and Jim’s colleagues had some fun at his expense. “I came back to work and there was a life jacket, an oar and a piece of rope on my table, in case I needed to be rescued during our morning meeting,” he said.
Jim took the ribbing in stride, and later went across the street to Coast Guard Air Station Traverse City to personally thank everyone who’d helped get him off that cliff.
“The pilot met me in parking lot. He took me in into the main center, and the co-pilot, rescue swimmer and flight mechanic—who operated the winch—all came in,” Jim said. They introduced him to the commanding officer, who asked if he would thank everyone at the air station. “I’m not a guy who speaks in public, but I went in and thanked 40 or 45 people,” Jim says. To his surprise, they stood and clapped.
“They talked about the rescue—what went wrong and what went right, and what we can learn from it,” Jim said. “They told me the gear and the clothes that we had made this a rescue and not a recovery.”
Did right
Kit. The kayakers had a full complement of paddling gear and rescue equipment, including life jackets, dry tops and pants, pumps and paddle floats. Jim had a handheld marine VHF radio.
Skill. While none of the three were expert kayakers (none can perform a roll for example) they were all experienced paddlers who had practiced self-rescue techniques.
Tolan stayed with his boat. Staying with his kayak greatly improved his chance of being seen by rescuers, and gear he had aboard would have been critical if he’d had to spend the night out, as appeared likely.
Composure. None of the men lost their heads. They all kept their composure and made decisions that ultimately led to a safe outcome.
Determination. None of the three gave up. They knew their fate was in their own hands, and ultimately Sean and Tolan rescued themselves. There’s a lesson in that for all of us.
Did wrong
Not turning around when conditions first deteriorated.
Not taking into account the effect of topography on wind and wave conditions. The wind increased in intensity when it whipped around Miner’s Point, and currents and shallower water caused the waves to steepen.
Not practicing rescues in dynamic conditions. The men had practiced paddle-float and assisted rescues, but did not know two techniques that may have allowed them to get back into their kayaks and empty the water. First is a T-rescue, in which the rescuer drains the victim’s boat before he re-enters. Second is securing the sprayskirt over the flooded cockpit before attempting to pump it out, leaving just enough of an opening to use the pump. A combination of these two techniques may have allowed Sean to get into his kayak and continue around the point.
Failing to secure Sean’s paddle float. This probably wasn’t a critical factor, but illustrates how easy it is to make small mistakes in stressful situations.
Waiting to call for assistance. Jim didn’t immediately radio for assistance, even when Tolan was in the water and both he and Sean’s boats were flooded. It’s not clear whether a Mayday would have been heard if it was issued a few minutes earlier when he was farther from the cliffs, but it would have been prudent to make that call as soon as he and Sean were stable.
Miscommunication.
This article was produced under a grant from the Sport Fish Restoration and Boating Trust Fund, administered by the U.S. Coast Guard.
While most visitors to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula plan their paddling adventures during the summer months, fall is a uniquely spectacular and rewarding time to dip your paddle in the diverse waters of this beautiful region.
Enjoy picture-perfect fall colors, abundant wildlife and comfortable weather while taking advantage of fewer crowds, affordable prices, and the amazing range of canoeing and kayaking in Upper Peninsula Michigan.
When does fall start in the Upper Peninsula? The first day of fall is typically September 21, but often the weather has begun to change by the middle of the month with crisp days and cooler nights. Meanwhile, lakes Superior, Huron and Michigan retain their summer warmth well into the season, moderating temperatures across the U.P. This means you have much of September, all of October, and into November to get out and explore!
Grab a cozy sweater and a hot apple cider, and settle in to read our favorite reasons fall is the perfect time for kayaking, paddleboarding and canoeing in Upper Michigan.
[ View all paddling adventures in Michigan in the Paddling Trip Guide ]
Each September, the forests of the Upper Peninsula begin to transform from vibrant greens to a patchwork of fiery orange, crimson red and golden yellow. Kayak and canoe trips in Upper Peninsula Michigan offer an unforgettable riot of color at this special time of year.
The changing leaves are just begging you to take a scenic paddle around Mackinac Island with Great Turtle Kayak Tours, see the majestic waterfalls of Tahquamenon Falls State Park or visit iconic Lake of the Clouds in Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. Because these are top fall destinations, though, they do tend to get busy. Local outfitters are also one of the best sources of information for what you can expect paddling in the region.
If you are looking for a quiet wilderness experience, explore the tranquil lakes of the Sylvania Wilderness with Sylvania Outfitters or take a journey down the Two-Hearted River with The Woods Canoe & Kayak Rental. The fall colors are just as lovely, but chances are you’ll have them all to yourself.
Tahquamenon Falls is even more beautiful when framed by fall foliage. | Photo: Jeff Wilkinson // @jeffreywilk
The fall foliage is beautiful no matter where you’re kayaking or canoeing in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Fall colors typically peak the last week of September and the first two weeks of October, with colors lingering later along the Great Lakes shorelines. Before you head out, check the current weather report and forecast for your paddling destination, and track leaf color change across the region using this Weekly Fall Color Report.
Choosing to paddle in the U.P. during the shoulder season puts you right in the travel sweet spot.
Prices are often lower than they are during the peak summer season and the weather is still perfect for kayaking and canoeing Upper Peninsula Michigan.
Take advantage of potential savings in your accommodations, equipment rentals, tour bookings and entrance fees.
Normally a bustling area, you’ll have the Pictured Rocks Lakeshore all to yourself in the fall. | Photo: Courtesy Upper Peninsula Travel & Recreation Association
3 Fewer crowds
After the Labor Day weekend, crowds thin and you won’t be sharing the rivers and shorelines with nearly as many other boaters.
As colder days and harsher weather start to move in, hearty, well-equipped paddlers are who you’ll find on the water. Fewer crowds mean more time and space for you to engage with your surroundings at a pace that suits you. Leave your itinerary open and embrace opportunities to explore.
When you aren’t worried about full campgrounds, sold-out experiences, or having to jockey for position when seeing the sights, you can spend more time enjoying the actual paddling experience.
Take a fall rafting trip down the Menominee River. | Photo: True North Outpost
Take advantage of the quiet by joining a guided kayak tour with Paddling Michigan, Pictured Rocks Kayaking or Northern Waters Adventures for a full or half-day of unforgettable sea cave and waterfall viewing in the incomparable Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. Or explore fabulous sandstone cliffs, 19th-century shipwrecks and historic lighthouses with Paddling Michigan’s Grand Island Vacation Package.
For an adrenaline experience unlike anywhere else in the Midwest, descend the class III-IV rapids of the mighty Menominee River. This guided whitewater rafting trip culminates with a 10-foot waterfall in the legendary Piers Gorge. True North Outpost offers guided rafting and kayaking trips ranging from two hours to an overnight mini-expedition with island camping.
Our only advice is to call ahead to avoid disappointment. Many paddling businesses close after September.
Enjoy milder temperatures when exploring in the fall. | Photo: Courtesy Upper Peninsula Travel & Recreation Association
4 Comfortable weather
Fall weather in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is about as close to perfect as you can get. No sweltering summer heat, but still enough warmth and sunshine to get on the water and maybe even enjoy an invigorating dip.
There’s just the right amount of crispness in the air to enjoy bundling in blankets and sweaters around your post-paddle campfire. Don’t forget to consider a few extra days in your trip planning should you be bound to camp for a stretch of windy or wild weather.
And, perhaps best of all, the cooler, more comfortable fall weather in the U.P. means no more bugs!
Take that float down the Manistique River through Seney National Wildlife Refuge and camp riverside at Northland Outfitters or Big Cedar Campground without being eaten alive. Or paddle the AuTrain River as it twists and turns for 10 miles through immersive meanders in Hiawatha National Forest, and forget about swatting pesky mosquitoes.
Stargazing at the Keweenaw Dark Sky Park rarely disappoints. | Photo: Nate Bett // Keweenaw Mountain Lodge
5 Stargazing & northern lights
Upper Peninsula Michigan offers some of the finest northern lights viewing in the Lower 48, with stunning displays of aurora borealis peaking during the months of October and November.
To witness this breathtaking spectacle for yourself, you’ll need a bit of luck, a crisp, clear night, and a calm lake or bay with an open view of the northern horizon. Watching the swirling, shimmering curtains of green, white, purple and red reflected on the still waters around your canoe, kayak or paddleboard is an experience you’ll never forget.
Head to the dark shores and even darker skies of Lake Superior or Lake Huron for the best Northern Lights displays in the Upper Peninsula. Top locations include Drummond Island, where you can join a guided kayak day trip with Woods & Waters, and Miners Beach in Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.
On the rugged and remote Keweenaw Peninsula, Copper Harbor is home to Michigan’s newest International Dark Sky Park. The park is headquartered at the Keweenaw Mountain Lodge, which opens its grounds at night to the public and offers stargazing workshops and events. By day, Copper Harbor’s Keweenaw Adventure Company leads guided kayak trips to picturesque waterfalls, lighthouses and sea cliffs.
Find peace and quiet. | Photo: Ronan Moynihan // @radioronan
6 Amazing fishing
There’s no better place to plan your fall fishing adventure than Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. With thousands of miles of cold, clear rivers and streams, expansive wildlife refuges and abundant access to public launches, the U.P. is a world-class destination for paddle anglers.
Pursue plentiful walleye, pike, perch, smallmouth and rock bass on the Manistique River or at the mouth of the Tahquamenon River. Paddle from the scenic Lower Falls in Tahquamenon Falls State Park to the river mouth at Lake Superior—rentals and shuttles are available from The Woods Canoe & Kayak Rental.
On Lake Michigan, Little Bay de Noc is a fall hotspot for migrating walleye and massive smallmouth bass. Contact Jack’s Charter Service for info on the best fishing locations and tactics. While you’re here wetting your line, don’t miss a scenic paddle around the Stonington Peninsula, home to 500-million-year-old fossils and a historic lighthouse.
Enjoy explosive fall walleye fishing on legendary Lake Gogebic or stalk trophy brook trout on the Fox River with Northland Outfitters. Catch fall colors and chinook salmon runs on the lovely AuTrain River with AuTrain River Adventures. On the Two-Hearted River, Pine Stump Junction Rentals offers guided salmon fishing excursions.
After an inspiring day on the water, retreat to an Instagram-worthy rental cottage or cabin where you can make the most of dropping temperatures and dwindling daylight with a roaring fire, warm blanket, good book, and hot mug of mocha or cider.
Perched on the most northern point of the Keweenaw Peninsula between Copper Harbor and Eagle Harbor, Fresh Coast Cabins offers 10 unique housekeeping cabins just steps from the beach and boasting endless, unobstructed views of the watery horizon. Can you say northern lights? The individually curated cabins and lack of cell service or WiFi provide an escape from the everyday.
See two of Lake Superior’s oldest and most picturesque lighthouses on a guided sea kayak tour of this spectacular coastline with Keweenaw Adventure Company. Guided trips offer the benefit of spending the day with a knowledgeable Lake Superior paddler. Afterward, settle into your super cozy home-away-from-home.
At Hessel Bay Sunset Cabins you can enjoy charming and comfortable housekeeping cabins overlooking a private sand beach and the beautiful Les Cheneaux Islands, an archipelago of 36 islands with miles of Lake Huron shoreline and bird-filled nature preserves. Enjoy these sheltered waters on a day of guided or self-guided Upper Peninsula Michigan kayaking with Woods & Waters in Hessel. Then wander the shops, bars and restaurants nestled in this scenic harbor town.
For a Victorian twist on classic cozy, book a stay in one of Mackinac Island’s gorgeous, century-old inns or B&Bs. The island is even more charming after dark, when the day-trippers sail away and your antique claw-foot tub invites an après-paddle soak. View Mackinac’s celebrated historic landmarks on a guided kayak or paddleboard trip with Great Turtle Kayak Tours.
Be sure to look around as you’re paddling as wildlife tends to be more active in the fall. | Photo: Patrick Downes // @patdwns
8 Wildlife migrations
The rugged and lightly populated landscapes and waterways of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula are a haven for wildlife, and fall is an exceptional time to encounter forest animals, birds and other creatures busily preparing for the coming winter. Fall in the U.P. also brings thousands of songbirds, raptors and waterfowl migrating south on ancient flight paths.
Enjoy a relaxing family float trip through the Seney National Wildlife Refuge, keeping a close watch for moose, deer, river otters, beavers and bald eagles, along with a host of other inhabitants. Northland Outfitters and Big Cedar Campground both offer camping and self-guided canoe and kayak trips, including equipment rental and shuttles.
In early September, Peninsula Point Lighthouse Park at the tip of Lake Michigan’s scenic Stonington Peninsula is the staging point for thousands of migrating monarch butterflies. The monarchs rest on this finger of land before winging across the open waters of Green Bay and onward nearly 2,000 miles to their winter home in the mountains of Mexico. Take a paddle along the limestone shoreline, and then climb the 40-foot light tower for an even better view.
Check off your bird-watching bucket list while kayaking Upper Michigan at Whitefish Point Bird Observatory. Michigan’s premier migration hotspot, Whitefish Point juts out into Lake Superior, acting as a natural flyway every spring and fall. See how many of the more than 340 recorded species you can spot among the wooded dunes and beaches at this beautiful site. Learn more about birding at Whitefish Point.
While you’re here, don’t miss touring the stately grounds and buildings of the historic Whitefish Point Light Station, home to the world-class Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum. The museum’s emotionally haunting exhibits tell the story of Lake Superior’s shipwrecks and feared fall storms, including the renowned sinking of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald in November 1975.
Daylight Savings ends on the first Sunday in November, leading “Yoopers” (as residents of the U.P. are known) to set their clocks to “fall back” by one hour.
This means an extra hour of sleep—or an extra hour to spend enjoying the Upper Peninsula’s fall splendors. Take advantage of this bonus time by staying up a little later to gaze at the stars from your campsite, or use it to recover from an exciting day of fall color paddling.
Arrived too early or too late for the colored leaves? There are still fall colors to be found along the Pictured Rocks Lakeshore. | Photo Courtesy: Northern Waters Adventures
10 Great escapes
With fewer visitors and so many incredible places to paddle in Upper Peninsula Michigan during the fall months, it’s easy to find your very own great escape.
Whether you’d like to relax and unwind or embark on the ultimate wilderness adventure, a must-see for paddlers who enjoy getting off the beaten path is Isle Royale National Park.
This spectacular 50-mile-long island in Lake Superior is surrounded by 450 barrier islands and was designated an International Biosphere Reserve in 1980. This is true wilderness, accessible only by ferry or seaplane, surrounded and shaped by the largest freshwater lake in the world. Navigate past lush forest and fjord-like bays by day, and listen for the bellow of moose and the howl of wolves after dark.
Lake Superior is known for its ability to conjure major storms and swell, and a study of the marine forecast is part of any trip to Isle Royale as well.
Caribou Island in Isle Royale National Park. | Photo: Carter Doyle // @medic.carter
Keweenaw Adventure Company offers kayak rentals and outfitting, including wetsuits for Superior’s cold water, located next to the Isle Royale ferry dock in Copper Harbor. Canoe, kayak and boat rentals are also available on the island in the main visitor’s hub of Rock Harbor.
Isle Royale National Park is open from April through October 31 with the fall season bringing an especially quiet and remote feeling to this sacred refuge. Kayak and camp on Lake Superior’s rugged coastline, or canoe and portage on peaceful inland lakes. A rustic lodge and 36 backcountry campgrounds mean you can linger as long as you like.
Fall is the best time to paddle in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula
The breathtaking natural beauty and fascinating historic sites of the Upper Peninsula are at their most unique and spectacular in the fall. Start with these 10 reasons fall is the best time to enjoy canoeing and kayaking in Upper Peninsula Michigan—then see how many more you can discover for yourself.
This article was produced under a grant from the Sport Fish Restoration and Boating Trust Fund, administered by the U.S. Coast Guard.
