The Great Future Of Plastic Sea Kayaks

By

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November 30, 2020

I watched the swell, trying to gauge when I’d have water to ride over the barnacle-covered rock. I got the timing right, but the angle wrong. I cleared the barnacles and careened into the nearby rock wall, scraping the side of my kayak. The collision bounced me back onto the rock—but after the water had left. I hit it sideways, then slid off awkwardly and upside down into deep water. I rolled up, chuckling. Then I did something I wouldn’t have done a year before: tried the same move two more times until I got it right.

That’s because a year earlier, I’d have been paddling a fiberglass boat I might have cracked. At best, I’d have some annoying work replacing the gelcoat. But on this day, I was paddling rotomolded Tupperware.

For years, I’d been a stickler for fiberglass sea kayaks. When I got my first kayak, I saved to buy a fiberglass sea kayak instead of plastic. Lighter, faster, repairable, prettier, modifiable for custom bulkheads, so what’s not to like? Well, two decades later, I’ve got my first plastic sea kayak. And I have a confession: I love it. As Mr. McGuire tells Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate, “There’s a great future in plastics. Think about it. Will you think about it?”

Plastic boats can be heavy, slow and decay in UV if not stored properly. But I believe there is a great future in plastics for kayaking, regardless. If you’ve seen a whitewater boat any more recently than 1972, you’ll know they’ve all been plastic since slalom coach Tom Johnson produced the rotomolded polyethylene Holoform River Chaser five years after The Graduate hit the cinemas. At least he listened to Mr. McGuire. Johnson had figured out fiberglass cracks when you hit a rock hard, and rivers are full of rocks.

[Paddling Buyer’s Guide: View All Plastic Sea Kayaks]

Coastlines have rocks too. In a plastic boat, I can play with abandon and not worry about bangs and scrapes. I felt the same freedom I felt the first time I knew I had a reliable roll—I could play hard, and if I capsized it wouldn’t be a big deal. Now I can whack a rock and bounce off like a kid who takes a hard fall but is still made of rubber. With this confidence, I can play harder. The harder I play, the more my skills will grow.

Sure, polyethylene boats have downsides. Molded hatch rims and foam bulkheads tend to leak more than glass boats. They’re slower. Poly boats have a life expectancy and may become squishy and oil can in heat or on storage racks. My plastic boat is super heavy—and my friends already think my fiberglass kayaks are too heavy. But that’s because they’ve been repaired so many times and were built heavy to survive rock contact. I groan when I lift it by myself, and I’m not getting any younger, either.

Sea kayaking has taken on some characteristics of whitewater, and so it’s worth noting why some things work for whitewater. Whitewater paddlers don’t keep their boats for decades, so the lifespan of plastic isn’t an issue. Sea kayaking is in the midst of a bunch of design innovations, so we’re wheeling and dealing our boats more often anyway. We camp less and paddle shorter distances to cool spots more, so speed and extra-dry gear storage are less critical. Ocean play and crossover kayaks have taken sea kayaks into plastic-only terrain. I’ve taken rotomolded sea kayaks on multi-day trips down class II and III rivers.

[Paddling Buyer’s Guide: View All Fiberglass Sea Kayaks]

One endorsement came when I decided to finally patch a few dings in one of my best-loved fiberglass boats. I marked a lot of spots to repair the gelcoat with tape, mixed up the toxic goo, and posted a picture on social media. Before the catalyst had been added, my phone pinged. It was a text from a friend, saying “I haven’t paddled a glass boat in years. Enjoy the fumes.”

But that’s not the most significant endorsement. The biggest endorsement was when I looked over at my friend and asked if he wanted to try that rock move on the Oregon coast. He avoided eye contact and said, “Hmmm. Maybe in a plastic boat.”

So please, Mrs. Robinson, laugh about it, shout about it, when you’ve got to choose.

Neil Schulman has many kayaks in his Portland, Oregon garage. Fifty percent are plastic. The other half could use some repair.

Seas the day. | Photo: Christopher Lockyer

The Key To A Perfect Paddling Stroke Is All In Your Head

By

Tim Shuff

-

November 30, 2020

technique behind good strokes — Nothing is forever except change. And kayaks. | Photo: JP DANKO

Don’t think of moving water past the boat. Think of moving yourself and the boat past the paddle,” my instructor said during my first formal paddling lesson as a kid. On many occasions since I’ve heard similar tips.

“Think of the water like concrete. Bury your paddle and imagine it doesn’t move.”

This concept of moving past the paddle took on new meaning for me recently, not just kinesthetically but also metaphorically.

Even after all these decades of paddling, my paddling technique wasn’t great. I was confident I was an excellent paddler, but I was underperforming in races. Race results don’t lie, so I hired a professional coach to do a video analysis of my stroke. Then I filed the videos away on my hard drive and was far too busy to look at them for several weeks. I was avoiding the doctor for fear of bad news, far too comfortable in my ego as an expert paddler who didn’t need any advice.

First, the blow. The bad news sinks in. Then the eventual dawning I’ve just opened up a blind spot.

After internalizing the video feedback, the “move-the-boat” feeling finally clicked.

On the water, I’ve started to imagine I’m on a skateboard. The paddle is a tree or a post I grab to slingshot myself forward, like when snowboarders grab things to haul themselves along the flats.

There’s a shockwave passed through my body, from my palms on the blade through to my feet that zings my boat forward. The energy translates into pure speed. It’s electric and addictive. And when strung into a consistent rhythm it’s often the jolt I need to get me through the day, even stronger than my morning cup of coffee. I’ve felt it myself and I’ve seen it in the eyes of my family—when one of us hits the breaking point and then sets off with a paddle and boat or board and comes home with a smile, a complete reset. It’s just one of the reasons we do this sport. It changes us. This is the other meaning of moving yourself past the paddle.

The other day my eight-year-old, George, was having a terrible time. School’s out, and his high expectations of endless summer fun crashed on the realities of all his friends being out of town and our strict limits on his use of the family iPad. He was sullen, moping around with, in my wife’s coarse parlance, “a turd in his pocket,” until I offered to take him paddling, slathered him in sunscreen and squeezed him into his wetsuit.

[Also Read:7 Canoe Strokes That Will Make You A Better Paddler]

We headed out into huge waves on the lake, found a beach with water so high we had to throw our paddleboards into the trees. We swam in the waves, then relaunched and surfed back to the car. George was happily running off at the mouth about the birds we saw, a dead fish, everything.

“Dad, smokestacks are like cigarettes. Dad, that boat has a barbecue. Dad, did you get pooed on by those cormorants?”

For the beginner, the illusion of moving water
with your paddle gradually yields to the realization
that, in essence, the water is moving you.

Maybe it is always ourselves we manipulate through outdoor pursuits. What else could we be doing when climbing a rock or paddling on the ocean? The rock doesn’t care. The sea doesn’t change because we dipped our paddles into it. Perhaps unique compared to some other human endeavors is these activities have no useful effect on the world. They make no tangible difference. And, according to the no-trace ethic, success is defined by having zero impact on the environment at all. So, what are we doing out there, exactly?

The water is changing us.

There’s a famous quote from John Muir that showed up, funnily enough, on the wrapper of a teabag I’d packed for a long coastal journey: “I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out until sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” Forgive me the wilderness cliché, but like the maxim of moving the boat past the paddle, it’s worth letting it steep until you fully understand—or maybe seeking some external feedback, and seeing whether you’re doing as well as you think you are.

For the beginner, the illusion of moving water with your paddle gradually yields to the realization that, in essence, the water is moving you. Or rather, by acting on the water, you are acting on yourself. Imagine the rock climber, trying to unlock a complex sequence of moves, really working to unlock something in herself—mastery, a feeling of triumph, the momentary satisfaction of feeling perfectly at home in the world.

Only when you understand it’s yourself you are moving do you really begin to paddle well. The water and the paddle are stationary, you are the one who is moving, changing. You are transformed. You see new things. You get tired. You are renewed. You have revelations. You travel and arrive at new destinations and conclusions.

[Paddling Buyer’s Guide: Shop All Paddles]

When I was putting off looking at the videos, resisting the harsh truth of my paddling flaws, I was trapped in a fixed mindset, determined I wasn’t the factor that had to change. I was going to keep pushing the water past the paddle, dammit. It took a shift in mindset to grow—a painful transition. I had to swallow my pride.

Once I opened up to the idea of changing myself, it was liberating and revelatory. It’s a lot easier than changing the world. It’s a lot easier to send a kayak skipping along the surface of an ocean than move the ocean itself. And in the end, relatively speaking, it has the same effect.

Our minds are easily moved. The world is intractable, but our brains are fluid. As if we are sorcerers, and we can dip our paddles into the concrete of the ocean and send the earth spinning on its axis, feel the rush of space zinging past our ears.

Tim Shuff is a former editor of Adventure Kayak magazine.

Nothing is forever except change. And kayaks. | Photo: JP DANKO

New Flush Drowning Research For Kayakers

By

Jeff Jackson

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November 27, 2020

I‘ve had my share of swims, as I’m sure you have too. Especially in the early days when my kayaking universe was expanding outwards. I was compelled—as perhaps you were, too—to climb the difficulty ladder to prove my abilities somehow (prove to whom?).

As a raft guide in the east, flipping and swimming is part of the game, but those tend to be pretty predictable and controlled, if such a thing can be said.

I’ve had long swims, cold swims, stuck-in-holes and bashing-rocks swims. One where I was left stranded clinging to a rock face and had to await my buddy’s lowered rope. One that left a bruise on my thigh that took five months to go away. But I’ve never had a desperate swim.

New research into the causes of whitewater drownings is attempting to understand flush drownings. In their research article, “Flush Drowning as a Cause of Whitewater Deaths,” two Colorado medical doctors looked at whitewater fatality data from the American Whitewater Association and attempted to parse out the significant variables. Plug the article title into Google Scholar to read the full text.

Flush drowning research — New study concludes cold water plays a role in the likelihood of flush drowning but it’s more complicated than that. | Photo: Daniel Stewart

Flush drownings could be construed as mysterious, for these do not seem to have a direct cause. Whitewater folks would colloquially call a flush drowning a situation where a long swim results in death, with no apparent complications like head impact or strainers. The research authors focused on water temperature and geography, as their data set compared western river fatalities to those in the east. The authors concluded cold water plays a role in the likelihood of flush drowning.

[Also Read:5 Underrated Kayak Safety Skills]

An aside: As an academic researcher myself, there are rigorous protocols in examining data and making claims of absolute truth. For our niche whitewater activity, we have largely escaped academic interest, and as such, any new findings are going to seem pretty self-evident. However, the research literature has to build itself one block at a time, taking pains to prove what is already evident to the rest of us.

So, the research authors conclude there is a correlation between cold water and flush drownings, primarily due to the data showing far fewer flush drownings in the east. Perhaps this is because of water temperature—which is warmer in the east. But, I argue, this is more likely due to the continuous nature of western rivers.

Any swim is a long swim in the west. Every second in the water increases the chance of drowning. Longer swims equal more exposure to the risk of drowning, regardless of temperature. By contrast, the eastern rivers data showed a far higher proportion of entrapment fatalities. By these authors’ logic then, are entrapment fatalities correlated with warm water? The first research trap drilled into Ph.D. students is correlation is not causation. Cold water is correlated to flush drowning; warm water is correlated with entrapment. This says very little about what caused what.

In my guide role, I’ve had my share of chasing down long swims. The Tutshi near Whitehorse is one notable memory, where the paddler swam for more than a mile before finally getting him into an eddy, exhausted and puking up water.

Desperate.

Another was on the Yampa in Colorado with early summer flood levels and swimmers in the water for a mile.

But I’ve also hauled up desperate swimmers who were in the water for just seconds. One was a kid, no PFD, 10 years ago at a favorite play spot. He was playing along the shore with his buddies and fell in. After 15 long seconds, he resurfaced. I hauled him onto my bow and got him to shore, near drowned, dazed and terrified.

[Paddling Buyer’s Guide: Shop All Whitewater PFDs]

Flush drowning is drowning. We don’t need an overriding reason to drown. We don’t need to be hit on the head or stuffed under a rock. We only need to suck water into our lungs. It can happen to any of us, which is why we wear PFDs, which is still no guarantee.

Every second spent swimming in whitewater ups the odds of sucking in water, no doubt complicated by cold water slowing us down, high gradient and water speed keeping us from getting to shore. Or a crappy old PFD that does not really float anymore. This is all correlated, but the cause is sucking in water.

We need to continue to wrap our heads around the opposite of our collective experience. Swimming in whitewater exposes us to drowning, even though it does not happen very often.

Jeff Jackson is an outdoor education professor at Algonquin College and a risk management consultant.

This article was first published inPaddling Magazine Issue 62. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions here , or browse the archives here.

New study concludes cold water plays a role in the likelihood of flush drowning but it’s more complicated than that. | Photo: Daniel Stewart

How 8 Famous Rapids Got Their Names

By

Brooke Hess

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November 27, 2020

What’s in a name? When it comes to world-famous rapids, the answer is found in the stories of local people and paddlers who have launched themselves over the brink, for better or worse. Brooke Hess shares the surprising, true tales of notable rapids from Norway to New Zealand to the Northwest Territories.

How 8 famous rapids got their names

1 Money Drop, Norway

Held annually in Voss, Norway, Ekstremsportveko is the largest extreme sports festival in the world. At the 1999 Ekstremsportveko, event organizers offered South African paddler, Shane Raw, along with his buddies, Erik Martinsen, Arnd Schaeftlein and Mark Eames, 2,000 Norweigan Krone each to run a large and intimidating waterfall on the Strandaelvi River just outside of Voss in front of busloads of spectators. One-by-one, all four of the men peeled out of the eddy just above the drop and had smooth lines in front of hundreds of spectators. They collected their 8,000 Krone ($780 USD) from the organizers, headed to the bar, and aptly named the waterfall Money Drop.

How famous rapids got their names — New Zealand’s Cole O’Connor Straton on Money Drop near the town of Voss in Norway. | Feature photo: Ciaran Heurteau

2 Tutea Falls, Kaituna River, New Zealand

The Kaituna River runs through Okere Falls, a small town just outside of Rotorua, and is one of New Zealand’s most popular whitewater rivers. The river was named for its abundant food source for the local Maori, the indigenous people of New Zealand. Kai = food and Tuna = eels. The local iwi (tribe), Ngati Pikiao, are the guardians of the Kaituna River. Tutea Falls, the 21-foot drop mid-way down the Kaituna’s commercial stretch, was named after Tutea, a Maori chief.

3 Disaster Falls, Green River, USA

In 1869, John Wesley Powell led a scientific expedition of the Green and Colorado rivers in the southwestern United States. The three-month-long expedition began in Wyoming at Green River Station and covered river miles through notable canyons such as the Flaming Gorge, the Gates of Ladore, Glen Canyon, and the Grand Canyon of the Colorado. Disaster Falls was named early on in the expedition when the crew crashed and destroyed a boat in the rapid, losing many crucial supplies, including nearly all of the barometers brought for measuring altitude while mapping river miles. Just after the crash, Powell saw some of his men on shore celebrating. Hoping they had found the barometers, he was only slightly disappointed when he learned they were celebrating the recovery of several bottles of whiskey.

4 Separation Rapid, Grand Canyon of the Colorado, USA

Another rapid descended by John Wesley Powell’s expedition, Separation Rapid, got its name when the crew had already spent 99 days on the river. They were low on rations and had just encountered one of the worst rapids yet. High tensions throughout the group made three men decide to desert the expedition. Instead of continuing down the river with the rest of the crew, the three men hiked up what is now named Separation Canyon. They were never seen again.

[ Discover the best kayaks of the year in the Paddling Buyer’s Guide ]

5 Gringos Revueltos, Quijos River, Ecuador

Gringos Revueltos translates to “scrambled foreigner.” A big hole in the middle of the rapid was for a long time host to a competition among the gringos who visited the Quijos River. Everyone who visited the river had to go for a surf in the hole. Your score would be your age plus how many seconds you lasted.

7 Valley of Headless Men, Nahanni River, Northwest Territories, Canada

two yellow canoes paddle along the Nahanni River

9 Reasons You Need To Paddle The Nahanni River

This story encompasses an entire river valley, rather than just a rapid, but the story is so unusual it needs to be included. In 1908, brothers Willie and Frank McLeod embarked on a mission into the Nahanni Valley in search of gold. They never returned. Two years later, their headless bodies were found on the banks of the Nahanni River. Nine years later, Martin Jorgenson succumbed to the same fate while on a similar quest for gold. The heads of these men were never found, and the mystery of who murdered them was never solved.

8 Molly’s Nipple, Slave River, Northwest Territories, Canada

In the early days of rafting exploration on the Slave River, many rapids were named during a single run of the river. Richard’s Bane was named when one of the expedition team members flipped his raft. The crew then set up camp and immediately proceeded to drink away the painful memories of the day. In the morning, slightly hungover from the previous night’s festivities, the expedition paddled a long stretch of flatwater to the first rapid of the day. In his hungover state, Richard insisted the rapid looked exactly like his girlfriend’s breast—but only while laying in one exact spot on the rocks next to the rapid. It’s been known as Molly’s Nipple ever since. The next rapid—Sambuca—was named for the drink enjoyed the night before.

Cover of Paddling Magazine, Issue 62 This article was first published in the Fall 2020 issue of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

New Zealand’s Cole O’Connor Straton on Money Drop near the town of Voss in Norway. | Feature photo: Ciaran Heurteau

Boat Review: WaveSport ACE Kayak

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

-

November 26, 2020

Feature Image courtesy WaveSport

Unlike the XXX and EZs, WaveSport stepped out of the flat-bottomed, kicker rocker trend. Instead of a completely flat planing surface with sharply upswept ends, Eric Jackson (EJ) built the ACE with continuous rocker. He maximized the planing surface by bringing out the edge and narrowing the width of the release chine. The WaveSport ACE, like the EZ has plenty of flare and the shear seam (where the hull meets the deck) is high. So what does this all mean on a wave?

WaveSport ACE Specs
(4.7 / 5.1)

Length: 7’1” / 7’4”

Width: 26” / 26.5”

Volume: 47 / 51 U.S. gal

Standard Features:
F.A.T. 2.0 outfitting, bow and stern grab loops, stainless steel security bars

MSRP: $1,688 CAD

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: See all freestyle kayaks ]

WaveSport’s ACE is a flatwater phenom

Front surfing the WaveSport ACE, especially as a C1, you’ll notice it feels as though you are continuously blasting. We think this is due to the rounded hull rocker; instead of sitting flat on a pronounced planing surface, the ACE teeters back onto the stern. We’re sure some paddlers will appreciate how easy it is to front surf as the bow rides high, but it is trickier to spin because you have to bring your weight forward to get it planing. We found moving the seat as far forward as possible helped balance the weight over the centre pivot point, helping to level the boat on the face of the wave and drastically improving performance.

ACE gets into the groove

Sliding sideways down into the trough, the WaveSport ACE wants to hop instead of planing out on stable hull surface. It is less retentive than the similar sized EZ and more likely to flush off smaller river features. Don’t get us wrong, it’ll spin, just not as well as larger, flatter boats. As the size and speed of the wave increases the ACE has no problem breaking loose.

One of the big techniques leaps for kayakers and especially C1 paddlers is when they realize how useful a pivot turn is for running rivers. In low volume boats it is easier to make course corrections by slicing the stern under than dragging the bow around using cross-bow draws. The ACE’s stern is so slicey it offers little or no resistance in a pivot turn. The ACE has a couple of other nice river running attributes: the continuous rocker provides better slide—especially important for C1 paddlers—than a similar length, flat hulled boat, and it holds a line better than the EZ.

EJ seems to be designing boats that require a very active style of paddling. This seems a design direction that reflects the paddling style of WaveSport pro men paddlers, who are all fairly beefy guys. The ACE doesn’t have the huge cockpit volume that makes a boat retentive in a hole. Instead the ACE requires constant retention strokes, or super clean technique. This allows more advanced paddlers to control the boat with strokes and body movement instead of letting the water do most of the work. Essentially, you can flatwater cartwheel anywhere in a hole. Getting it into the groove, the WaveSport ACE is super smooth from end to end, and an incredible flatwater toy.

Featuring new adjustable bulkhead

The F.A.T. 2,0 outfitting available in WaveSport boats is outstanding. This year WaveSport switched to the proven fixed-rail, moveable seat system and opened the hip pads so pre-cut bits of foam can be stuffed in for a customized fit. The seat cover opens so you can layer foam for a higher seat position and added leverage. For C1, WaveSport cockpits are large enough for a wide knee stance and allow your legs to fit under the coaming providing lateral support. We’ve heard rumblings of a bolt-in console but for now, gut the boat and buy foam.

While other companies were busily working on the best way to pre-cut and glue foam foot blocks WaveSport developed an adjustable bulkhead. The internal plastic nosecone is roughly shaped to fit the contours of your foot and connects to a cam strap accessible in the cockpit. Comfortable and novel for experienced paddlers—imagine how inviting this system looks to the new paddlers.

[ Plan your next whitewater kayaking adventure with the Paddling Trip Guide ]

Get active with the WaveSport ACE

The WaveSport ACE is going to sell well as a kayak or converted C1 on the virtue of its easy surfing and super-easy, ego-boosting flatwater performance and off the shelf fit. It doesn’t perform as well on small waves and is less retentive in holes, making it a better fit for intermediate and advanced freestyle paddlers who have the control to throw it around. As a kayak or C1, once you master the slicey system the ACE is a smooth boat to get down the river.

This article was first published in the Early Summer 2005 issue of Rapid Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

Boat Review: Titan Genesis Kayak

By

Scott MacGregor

-

November 26, 2020

When I was 12, my friends were divided into two camps—Super Nintendo and Sega Genesis. Most of my friends chose the Super Nintendo, probably because of peer pressure, but a few went with the Sega Genesis. It was sleek, super fun to play and, well, it looked really cool—just like the latest version of the Titan Genesis kayak.

Titan Genesis Specs
(V:II / V:III)

Length: 5’9.5” / 6’0.5”

Width: 26” / 27.5”

Volume: 55 / 66 U.S. gal

Weight: 30 / 33 lbs

Weight Range: 120-180 / 165-260 lbs

MSRP: $1,100

www.titankayaks.com

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: See all freestyle kayaks ]

Titan’s Genesis is a friendly freestyle kayak

Upon first look, the arrow-like shape of the bow immediately stands out. Thinking this design might be tailored to the advanced paddler, we asked Titan owner and lead designer, Anthony Yap, about its styling. “Don’t be mistaken—while this is a high performance boat, it is by no means an advanced paddler’s boat,” he replied. “The goal was to create a high performance freestyle boat that is still friendly and easy to use. After years of prototyping we believe we’ve hit the nail on the head.” After a few rides of our own in the Titan Genesis kayak, we agree.

The Genesis excels in whitewater

The bow plugs deep and straight, easily allowing the boat to get vertical. Coupled with its short stern, the Titan Genesis comes around lightning fast. The slicy bow and stern initiate effortlessly, giving it a well-balanced feel when linking ends.

[ See also: 6 Freestyle Fundamentals ]

On a wave, the Genesis immediately feels both stable and predictable. While some of the newer playboats on the market have a very twitchy feel, we found the Titan Genesis responsive and controllable. Putting it on edge results in a nice, hard carve that releases without a Herculean effort, allowing you to throw blunts or cut back in another direction.

Spins come easily thanks to the loose feel of the hull, but we did notice that momentum stalls slightly just as the boat reaches 180 degrees on a wave. On the other hand, the Genesis backsurfs like a dream and we were happy to stop it there. For many paddlers backwards is not a position of comfort or control, but if you find yourself always flushing after tricks that land you in a backsurf, the Titan Genesis might be your best friend.

Functional performance outfitting

The outfitting lacks the sleek refinements of the hull but is functional, durable and most importantly, comfortable. A foam foot block, adjustable one-piece molded seat, ratcheting backband with hip pads ingeniously mounted on flexible flaps that pull closer as you ratchet and strong aluminum thigh brackets all give you great contact with the boat and allow for long play sessions without the need for yoga between rides. It’s not the easiest outfitting to set up, but take the time and you’ll find that tiny adjustments make a huge difference in performance.

[ Plan your next whitewater kayaking adventure with the Paddling Trip Guide ]

Try your hand at the Titan Genesis kayak

The Titan Genesis kayak is a comfortable, unique looking ride that is equally at home on a wave, in a hole and on all the rapids in between. If you are looking for a new playboat, add it to your list of boats to try before just caving to peer pressure and buying the same boat as your friends. You might find it’s a way better system for your style—just like Sega’s Genesis.

This article was first published in the Fall 2012 issue of Rapid Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

Boat Review: Silverbirch Covert Canoe

By

Scott MacGregor

-

November 26, 2020

Last fall, Steve Childs, the designer and owner of Silverbirch Canoes, called and said he’d snuck the very first Silverbirch Covert 9.3 into the country and asked if he could leave it with me for a few days. Hell, yeah.

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: See all whitewater canoes ]

The Silverbirch Covert is a durable craft

The Covert ships trimmed with burly ash gunwales and overbuilt thwarts. Forty-eight-inch air bags tuck beneath black-laced bag cages. The 12-inch-long bow and stern decks offer just enough room for molded-in alloy grab handles and rescue attachment points. The rest of the deck is open, the way it should be. It’s a good-looking boat.

The Covert is available in a single layer polyethylene material that Silverbirch calls Duratough, and also in a three-layer option called Duralite, which is actually tougher and 4.5 pounds lighter. Strange, I know.

Basically, instead of one layer of plastic, Duralite is three layers—an outer layer, a layer of foam and an inner layer.

Once I got Childs talking about plastics he pulled out his smartphone and showed me pictures of a Covert hull he drilled full of holes to measure the thickness at different points. The secret to weight savings, he says, is getting the foam layer thicker where it needs to be tough and thinner where he can save weight.

A fast and intuitive ride

A dry fall had left our rivers lower than normal. The run was shallow and creeky, just how I like it. Perfect for the Silverbirch Covert canoe.

The Covert is initially less stable than a Nova Craft Ocoee, and rolls smoothly from side to side. This comfortable secondary stability doesn’t hang you way out there. Once I realized I was pushing the Covert past its natural stable resting point I soon forgot about tilting altogether. I can just paddle the Covert and it does the right thing—muscle memory and boat design coming together as one.

Another thing I love about the Silverbirch Covert is what it doesn’t do. It doesn’t get knocked off line. Not once have I been tripped up by squirrely currents or waves. How fast is the Covert? I’d need more time on flatwater to see if it is truly as fast as it feels, or if it just feels river fast because I can concentrate on forward momentum, not correction strokes. Either way, it works for me.

JAMIE DORS ON OUR RECONNAISSANCE MISSION. | PHOTO: SCOTT MACGREGOR

The Covert flat-out performs

I think the reason I can paddle the Covert almost flat is due to its radical double chine. If I over-tilt when I drop into a small hole to surf or spin, I climb up and off the foam pile. The game is to see how level and how far upstream I can push it. The answer? Way more than you’d think.

Childs kept the sheer to a minimum, which I noticed right off when my first few cross strokes didn’t clip the bow. Another benefit of the flatter deck is that it allows the Covert to turtle completely. When you flip to your offside, the Covert settles mostly upside-down, saving you the funky chicken underwater sweep stroke to get to your paddling side for a roll.

The Covert’s shallow bow and stern put the decks a few inches closer to the water—so what? So, don’t let the Covert run down the face of the wave and pearl in the trough. Keep it carving on the face where you should be and where the Covert is stable, predictable and so much fun.

[ Plan your next whitewater canoe adventure with the Paddling Trip Guide ]

Ride high with the Silverbirch Covert canoe

There is a lot to love about the Silverbirch Covert canoe. And if nothing above struck your fancy, I should mention that the Duralite version can be ordered in yellow, orange, red, pink, green, blue and of course black. Mix and match inner and outer colors for a truly custom ride.

This article originally appeared in Rapid Early Summer 2016 issue.

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Boat Review: Dagger Crazy 88 Kayak

By

Scott MacGregor

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November 26, 2020

The word from Dagger is that their team and consumers were yelling for more air. The Dagger Crazy 88 delivers more hull speed, signature volume distribution in its deck, edges to drive across the wave and a hull designed to pop from the water. They’ve lightened their outfitting and partnered with IR to include an Overthruster for dialing in the 88’s volume for the most air possible.

Dagger Crazy 88 Specs
(6.2 / 6.3)

Length: 6’1.25” / 6’2.5”

Width: 25.35” / 26.5”

Cockpit: 35” × 19” / 35” × 19”

Volume: 40.3 / 48.1 U.S. gal

Weight: 28 / 29 lbs

Weight Range: 120-165 / 155-200 lbs

MSRP: $1,149 USD or $1,599 CAD

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: See all Dagger kayaks ]

Weighing in on Dagger’s Crazy 88

The first thing you need to know before you try the Crazy 88 is that Dagger’s suggested weight ranges are pretty close, with little overlap. A 170-pound paddler is too much for the 6.2, not to mention that their feet probably won’t fit anyway. If you’re feeling like a nut in the right size you’ll see that you have the fastest Dagger freestyle hull since before the G-Force.

The Dagger Kingpin wasn’t known for speed or carving edge—the new Crazy 88 is both. Dagger has had a bouncing rocker-profile dialed for a couple of years. The Crazy 88 bounces when you are set up for it, and leaves the dribbling to the Harlem Globetrotters master “Curly” Neil.

A light and bouncy boat

As far as all around freestyle boats go, the Crazy 88 is a great choice, so long as you choose the correct size. It jumps on little ferry waves and carries its speed deep into eddies. With a slicier and narrower bow than the Kingpin, the 88 more easily tumbles in little pourovers.

Inside, Dagger has been simplifying and lightening their outfitting and have a comfortable system—not the easiest to set up for test days, but owners of the 88 think it’s great.

Pros and cons of the Dagger Crazy 88

Pros: Great carve. Short and pretty quick. Feels way lighter than previous Dagger boats.

Cons: Narrow thighs, tight toe box. Fiddly outfitting to set up.

This article was first published in the Summer 2005 issue of Rapid Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

How To Seal And Test A Drysuit For Leaks

By

Bob Holtzman

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November 26, 2020

Bob Holtzman — How to Leak-Test Your Drysuit

Even the best of drysuits can spring a leak. When it does, it can be tricky to conduct a leak test and find the exact spot. When you were wearing the suit, you probably noticed a leak in a general area—the left foot, perhaps, or the right side under the armpit—but when you take the suit off, there’s enough moisture spread around so that you can’t tell exactly where the water came in. And if you can’t do that, you can’t fix it.

Here’s an easy, DIY method to test a drysuit for leaks and identify their exact location.

How to leak-test your drysuit

Step 1: Prepare your workspace

Work on a flat hard dry surface. On a nice day, a paved driveway works best. Otherwise, a garage floor will do. Cover a large area with clean, dry corrugated cardboard. Open the drysuit’s entry zipper and close the relief zipper if it has one. Turn the suit inside-out and lay it flat.

A can is placed in the wrist gasket of a drysuit to stretch it out — Photo: Bob Holtzman

Step 2: Plug the wrists

Plug the wrist gaskets with FULL 12-oz. cans. (Empty cans will crush and won’t work.) If your suit has ankle gaskets, treat them the same way. If it’s a slightly loose fit, you can use a larger can or tighten up the seal by wrapping it with painter’s tape. If your gaskets have very small openings, use a smaller can like the kind tomato paste comes in.

Step 3: Add hose

Put the end of a garden hose through the neck gasket. A hose nozzle with an on-off control that you can operate through the fabric is nice to have. If you don’t have one, just the plain hose end will do.

Step 4: Close entry zipper

Reach into the suit through the neck gasket and close the entry zipper. Pull it tight and make sure it’s completely closed.

Best Drysuits For Paddling In 2026

A hose is tied to the neck gasket of a drysuit to fill it with water for a leak test — Photo: Bob Holtzman

Step 5: Tie off the neck

Wrap the neck gasket tightly around the hose, then tie it in place. If you use string, take several wraps around the gasket before tying the knots: this will help prevent the string from cutting into the latex. Heavier cordage, like the 3/8″ rope shown, is less likely to cut. Prop the neck up off the ground 6″ to 8″. A plastic tub works well for this.

Step 6: Start watering

You’re ready to go. Turn on the water and watch carefully for any major leaks where the gaskets or zippers might not have been closed off completely. Small leaks in the suit itself are not likely to show up immediately.

Step 7: Fill half way

Let the water run until the drysuit is 1/3 to 1/2 full then turn it off. Do not fill the suit completely—that will make it too heavy to move.

A hand holds the seam of a drysuit. — Photo: Bob Holtzman

Step 8: Check for leaks

As the suit is filling, gently lift the areas where leakage is suspected. If the suit isn’t torn, then leaks are most likely to occur at the seams.

Step 9: Expose the seams

Lifting all around the suit, exposing the seams on the underside and checking for leaks. Be careful not to move the suit around at this point. After you lift a section, let it settle back to the same spot.

Step 10: Be patient

Leaks will be obvious when water drips onto the cardboard. It may take several minutes for the water to inch its way through the seam, so take your time.

Man in orange whitewater kayak with yellow and black drysuit

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Step 11: Mark the leaks

Mark the area of the leak with a permanent marking pen like a Sharpie.

The legs of a drysuit are filled with water to test for leaks. — Photo: Bob Holtzman

Step 12: Mark the cardboard

Go over the entire suit, lifting it gently in small sections to check for leaks at all the seams on the underside. Draw circles around the wet spots on the cardboard so that when you turn the suit over, you’ll be able to distinguish them from any new leaks that occur.

Step 13: Check the other side

Turn the suit over. This isn’t as easy as it sounds, since there is a lot of weight in water in there. Lift the right leg to drain the water out, then cross it over the left leg. Lift the neck and chest to drain water toward the legs, then shift the left arm under the suit toward the right side. Pull the right arm over to the left side, then gently roll the body of the suit and reposition it on the cardboard. If there were any leaks on the first side, position the legs, arms, and main body seams so that they are not over the marked wet areas.

A drysuit lies on the floor filled with water during a leak test — Photo: Bob Holtzman

Again, take your time and wait several minutes for water to work its way through any dubious seams. Lift the entire suit gently, in small sections, looking for new wet spots on the cardboard. Mark the offending seams and circle the wet spots on the cardboard.

Step 14: Drain the suit

When you’re sure you’ve found all the leaks, pull one of the cans from a wrist gasket to begin draining. If you’re working inside a garage, the whole setup—suit and cardboard—should be dragged outside before you drain.

Step 15: Hang to dry

Hang the suit inside out (out of direct sunlight) to dry the inside, then turn it rightside-out to dry the outside before repairing the seams.

Bob Holtzman is the president of Mythic Drysuits, makers of affordable drysuits for recreational paddlers.

Evolution of the Pack Boat Canoe

By

Conor Mihell

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November 26, 2020

Media and geography merged over 130 years ago to create the pack boat, a unique style of canoe that remains popular today. A pack canoe’s short length, wide beam and ultralight construction make it maneuverable and stable on the water, and barely noticeable on long portages. Find out why this classic adventure craft continues to evolve alongside the needs of backcountry canoeists.

Birth of the Adirondack pack boat

In 1880, outdoors writer George Washington Sears, who went by the pen name Nessmuk, approached Canton, New York-based boat-builder John Henry Rushton, requesting a lightweight canoe to carry into the remote ponds of the Adirondacks. Rushton drew on his experience building partially decked Rob Roy sailing canoes and downsized his 13-foot Hunter model to shape the Nessmuk, an open-topped, all-wood, 10-footer that weighed only 18 pounds.

And so a new genre of solo canoe was born. So-called pack boats thrived in the Adirondacks, where long portages and small lakes are the norm. These canoes work well with double-bladed paddles, eliminating the hassle of J-strokes.

Canadian pack boats of old and new

The Canadian equivalent to the Adirondack pack boat was Chestnut’s diminutive, 11- and 12-foot Lightweight and Trapper canoes that were designed for portaging into backcountry trout lakes. Ontario-based manufacturer Nova Craft recently reincarnated this style of canoe with its new Trapper, a stout and stable boat designed for anglers and aimed squarely at competing with less portable fishing kayaks.

“How do you portage a kayak for a mile?” says Nova Craft sales rep Roch Prevost. “We’ve built on the great access of a canoe to make something that carries way more gear and is not nearly as restrictive for paddling.”

Pack canoes continue to grow and evolve

Contemporary pack boats bridge the gap between kayaks and canoes. While short, peapod-shaped, open-decked Rushton-style canoes still define the category, some manufacturers have gotten creative, adding length, partial decks and kayak-like seating and foot pegs. For instance, Mad River pulls no punches in describing its recently released 13-foot Serenade as a hybrid that’s designed to be propelled with a double-bladed paddle from a seated position. Similarly, Wenonah jumped into the pack canoe market with a Rushton-inspired Wee Lassie and the Canak, a partially-decked take on a 16.5-foot solo hull with hatch-like cutouts for packing gear.

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: See the Mad River Serenade AR 13 pack canoe ]

In 2010, Massachusetts-based paddler Skip Ciccarelli demonstrated the potential of propelling a modern, stretched-out pack boat with a double-bladed paddle. Ciccarelli shattered the speed record for paddling the Northern Forest Canoe Trail, a 740-mile route across the northeastern United States. To be sure, Rushton would scarcely recognize Ciccarelli’s sleek, 17-foot Hornbeck canoe. Nor would Nessmuk have ever imagined the 40-mile days and 50-plus miles of portaging involved in tracing the full length of the NFCT in only 25 days.

With pack boats, form follows function

Ciccarelli is an example of the contemporary pack canoe’s versatility. But for industry vets like Charlie Wilson, a designer and co-founder of New York’s Placid Boatworks, it’s the genre’s straightforward design and ease of use that makes it timeless.

[ Plan your next canoe tripping adventure with the Paddling Trip Guide ]

“They offer the short learning curve of kayaks,” notes Wilson. “As the population ages, the demand for lightweight boats with user-friendly performance and easier entry and exit means the pack boat concept will be with us for a long while.”

This article was first published in the Fall 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

How 8 famous rapids got their names

1 Money Drop, Norway

2 Tutea Falls, Kaituna River, New Zealand

3 Disaster Falls, Green River, USA

4 Separation Rapid, Grand Canyon of the Colorado, USA

5 Gringos Revueltos, Quijos River, Ecuador

7 Valley of Headless Men, Nahanni River, Northwest Territories, Canada

8 Molly’s Nipple, Slave River, Northwest Territories, Canada

WaveSport ACE Specs (4.7 / 5.1)

Length: 7’1” / 7’4”

Width: 26” / 26.5”

Volume: 47 / 51 U.S. gal

Standard Features: F.A.T. 2.0 outfitting, bow and stern grab loops, stainless steel security bars

MSRP: $1,688 CAD

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ACE gets into the groove

Featuring new adjustable bulkhead

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Titan Genesis Specs (V:II / V:III)

Length: 5’9.5” / 6’0.5”

Width: 26” / 27.5”

Volume: 55 / 66 U.S. gal

Weight: 30 / 33 lbs

Weight Range: 120-180 / 165-260 lbs

MSRP: $1,100

Titan’s Genesis is a friendly freestyle kayak

The Genesis excels in whitewater

Functional performance outfitting

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The Silverbirch Covert is a durable craft

A fast and intuitive ride

The Covert flat-out performs

Ride high with the Silverbirch Covert canoe

Dagger Crazy 88 Specs (6.2 / 6.3)

Length: 6’1.25” / 6’2.5”

Width: 25.35” / 26.5”

Cockpit: 35” × 19” / 35” × 19”

Volume: 40.3 / 48.1 U.S. gal

Weight: 28 / 29 lbs

Weight Range: 120-165 / 155-200 lbs

MSRP: $1,149 USD or $1,599 CAD

Weighing in on Dagger’s Crazy 88

A light and bouncy boat

Pros and cons of the Dagger Crazy 88

How to leak-test your drysuit

Step 1: Prepare your workspace

Step 2: Plug the wrists

Step 3: Add hose

Step 4: Close entry zipper

Step 5: Tie off the neck

Step 6: Start watering

Step 7: Fill half way

Step 8: Check for leaks

Step 9: Expose the seams

Step 10: Be patient

Step 11: Mark the leaks

Step 12: Mark the cardboard

Step 13: Check the other side

Step 14: Drain the suit

Step 15: Hang to dry

Birth of the Adirondack pack boat

Canadian pack boats of old and new

Pack canoes continue to grow and evolve

With pack boats, form follows function

WaveSport ACE Specs
(4.7 / 5.1)

Standard Features:
F.A.T. 2.0 outfitting, bow and stern grab loops, stainless steel security bars

Titan Genesis Specs
(V:II / V:III)

Dagger Crazy 88 Specs
(6.2 / 6.3)