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Help Wanted: How Paddlesports Retailers Hire In A Tough Labor Market

paddlesports shop employee demonstrates paddle and PFDs to customers while surrounded by other products
Feature photo: Mark Hemmings

The U.S. unemployment rate fell to 3.6 percent in April, a 50-year low. The figure in Canada is 3.8 percent, and young people throughout North America are spending less time than ever outdoors. It’s no wonder paddling shops are having a tough time finding qualified employees these days.

“I’ll tell you something everybody will agree with: It’s getting harder and harder to hire great employees,” says Darren Bush, owner of Rutabaga Paddlesports in Madison, Wisconsin, where unemployment is hovering at about 2.5 percent and McDonalds is paying $14 an hour. We asked retailers across North America how they manage to find and keep good staff in such a competitive environment. Their verdict: You can’t afford to be cheap.

“Rule number one is find out what the prevailing wage is in your town and pay it,” Bush advises. Good employees command higher wages, but they’re often worth the extra cost. “It’s better to have 10 people making $15 an hour than 15 people making $10 an hour,” he says. “We’re short-staffed right now, down maybe three people from where I’d like to be. But the people I have are great.”

Bush pays competitive wages and provides matching 401K and health benefits (he’s on the same insurance plan as his employees). It’s a big expense, but not as costly as staff turnover. “I don’t know why this is a secret,” he says. “At the end of the day it comes down to treating people like human beings. The owners I know who do that have very successful businesses and do very well.”

You don’t have to hire paddlers

“We try to hire paddling enthusiasts, but nowadays we don’t need enthusiasts. What we need is somebody with good communications skills and customer service experience,” says Mike Ong, owner of Southwind Kayaks in Irvine, Ca. The ideal shop employee is an avid paddler who is great with people, but the 14-year industry veteran says people who fit that description are harder than ever to find and keep. “If that’s what you’re looking for, good luck,” he says.

Know your customers’ needs

Knowledge helps sell, but it’s important to hire employees who have the right kind of knowledge, says Steve Marshall, owner of Paddleyax in Independence, Virginia. The bulk of Marshall’s business is in fishing kayaks, and his customers are moved more by fishing tips than kayaking jargon. “Given a choice between someone who worked in a big-city kayak store or someone who’s new to kayaking but familiar with the fishing here, I’d go with the local guy,” he says.

Good staff come in all ages

“I’ve had a couple really good young employees come through. Their communication skills and outdoor experience were fantastic, but after a year or so they move on with their lives,” says Sean Creary, owner of River and Trail Outdoor Company in Rothesay, New Brunswick. Creary was happy to have those flashy young stars, but his bedrock employees are older. “They’ve got kids and are at a point in their life where they’re happy working at the shop. I give them lots of flexibility and I pay them well.”

Resist the rush

Chances are, the perfect candidate won’t walk through your door as soon as you post a help-wanted ad. Creary prefers to hold out for the right candidate, even if that means picking up extra hours himself. “It’s more important to have the right person in the store, even if that means it’s going to be me for the next little while,” he says.

Know your weaknesses

Too many retailers look to hire a younger version of themselves, but the goal of hiring shouldn’t be to duplicate your own strengths. It should be to complement your team. Simon Coward, owner of Aquabatics in Calgary and Edmonton, Alberta, puts it more bluntly: “Realize what you suck at and pay people to do it for you.”

Photo: Mark Hemmings

Why Two Brothers Portaged Canoes To Mount Everest

Photo: Seton Roberts
The brothers hiked from the city of Lukla at 8,383 feet above sea level to Everest Base Camp at 17,600 feet over 18 days. Gnarliest portage ever. Photo: Seton Roberts

Think back to the most difficult portage you’ve ever experienced. Maybe there was miserable weather, rugged terrain, unbearable distances or injuries along the way. You felt tired, overwhelmed and focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. Now, imagine that for 18 days. And, when the portage comes to an end, there isn’t any water in sight.

That was the reality for two brothers, Kyle Roberts and Tom Schellenberg, who took portaging to new heights on January 18 when they reached Mount Everest Base Camp in Nepal after a grueling 58-mile portage.

Why did the brothers portage canoes through Mount Everest?

The mission of The Weight We Carry, a non-profit organization founded by the brothers, is to carry canoes to the most unlikely places on earth in support of mental health.

Roberts and Schellenberg have friends and family who have suffered mental health illnesses, and the two 30-pound Cape Falcon Kayak skin-on-frame canoes they carried represented the extra burden people living with mental health issues face.

As a tribute to growing up camping and canoeing in Algonquin Park, they both have a map of Algonquin Park tattooed on their shoulders. Their love for camping in combination with their determination to help others is what drove them to start this unique non-profit.

Planning for a good cause

This expedition was two years in the making. The brothers took a hiking trip to Everest Base Camp in 2016, where they witnessed the devastation of the 2015 earthquake. This inspired the pair to raise money to support the local community.

Speaking with the brothers via satellite phone while they were in a tea house just below Base Camp, they agreed the most challenging parts of the climb came from high winds, cold temperatures and the rough terrain they were trekking on.

“Keeping our hands on the gunwales of the canoe was very difficult. Our hands were freezing but the winds were so strong we weren’t able to let go of the canoe,” said Schellenberg.

“It was a challenge to find a comfortable position to rest the canoe after carrying them for such a long period. We were constantly making adjustments to relieve pain where we could,” said Roberts.

In addition to carrying 60 pounds of gear and 30-pound canoes, Tom was fighting a pain on the big toe of his left foot.

“My toenail was being driven into my foot causing an infection with a lot of discomfort. It was likely from climbing all the elevation. I was soaking it in salt water in the evenings and had a few doctors evaluate it on the way up and decided I wanted to keep climbing,” said Schellenberg.

What is their goal?

The pair raised $75,000 and is continuing to fundraise back home with hopes of hitting their goal of $150,000. The money will fund the construction of The Women’s Mental Health Centre facility for Koshish, a Nepalese organization providing short-term care for women with mental health illness.

“The canoes grabbed a lot of attention. We found it difficult in some circumstances to communicate what it was we were trying to do. For those who did understand, everyone was very appreciative of us giving back to their communities” said Roberts.

After reaching Everest Base Camp, the pair turned around to begin a weeklong trek back down the mountain. In total, they hiked 115 miles with almost 70,000 feet of vertical altitude gain on the long portage to and from Base Camp.

Donations are still being accepted at www.theweightwecarry.com.

Watch the trailer for the new documentary

Explore Utah’s Green River Canyonlands By Kayak

man walking the Wind River Range in Wyoming
At 730 miles long, the Green River is the largest tributary of the Colorado River. Its headwaters are in the Wind River Range in Wyoming. | Photo: Mike Bezemek

In mid-July of 1869, John Wesley Powell and crew, in three wooden rowboats, spilled haphazardly out of Gray Canyon into a sandy basin near present-day Green River, Utah. They were down a man who had left the expedition after a boat was wrecked in the rapids of Lodore Canyon the month before.

Already they’d come about 400 miles—running, lining, and portaging hundreds of rapids. After 20 miles of easy floating, a new canyon appeared. Rising bluffs typically foretold trouble, but this canyon was different.

The river was calm as a lake, sweeping through great meanders between cliffs of orange sandstone. The circuitous route through colorfully changing rock formations became so tortuous, Powell named it Labyrinth Canyon. When spires and buttes rose overhead, this became Tower Park. And when the walls deepened into a more coherent gorge above the confluence, Powell reminded mapmakers about the slow current: Stillwater Canyon.

Today, these sections along 140 miles of the Green River offer some of the finest flatwater paddling in the desert Southwest. Given the remote region the river travels through, access points are few and distances between far. But if you’re in good paddling shape, comfortable with remote runs and interested in unreal scenery, this is for you. Mid-to late-spring and early-to mid-fall are preferred, while mid-summer is a real scorcher. Side hikes, ruins and rock art are just as good as the paddling.

 

Weather: Sunny with a slight chance of shade, if you have an umbrella. Be prepared for big temp swings, powerful winds and sudden thunderstorms. This is high desert.
Shuttle: Coyote Shuttle offers vehicle transfers and full-service shuttles for trips down Labyrinth and Stillwater. coyoteshuttle.com
Don’t Miss: Nearby Moab, Utah, is one of the top adventure towns in the U.S., with enough world-class mountain biking trails to make the most dedicated paddler consider (temporarily) switching sports.
Diversions: Winding above the river through Tower Park is the White Rim Road, a 100-mile unpaved loop through the Island in the Sky district of Canyonlands National Park. A National Parks Service permit is required.
Learn More: For a guide to 1,600 miles on the Green and Colorado Rivers, plus the dramatic story of the 1869 expedition, see Paddling the John Wesley Powell Route by Mike Bezemek.

If you have a half day

Upstream from Green River, Utah, the Daily is eight miles of easy, pool-drop class II-II+ through the stark but scenic Gray Canyon. It’s a somewhat popular stretch for beginner whitewater kayaking and warm-weather floats. Put-in is at the primitive Nefertiti Access. Take-out is at Swaseys Beach boat ramp. Self shuttle using the unpaved, riverside Beach Road.


If you have a full day

The shorter option is 12.5 miles, through irrigated farm fields, from Swaseys to Green River State Park. But the more ambitious and interesting option is 23 miles from the state park to Ruby Ranch, past the curious manmade Crystal Geyser, gypsum buttes, and the scenic beginnings of Labyrinth Canyon. The shuttle on I-70 and unpaved Ruby Ranch Road takes one hour each way.


If you have a weekend

Make it a long weekend, and paddle 45 miles from Ruby Ranch to Mineral Bottom through a landscape that will change your life—and possibly take years off your vehicle’s suspension. Highlights include Trin Alcove, Navajo Sandstone, Bowknot Bend, and much more. A self-issue permit is required for Labyrinth Canyon, available online from BLM.


If you have a week

Then, boy, you’re going to need it. Combine the Lab trip above with 52 miles through Tower Park and Stillwater Canyon in the otherworldly Canyonlands National Park—advance permit required, but no lottery or quotas. There’s no take-out, so arrange a jet boat extraction from Spanish Bottom just below the confluence of the Colorado River upstream to Moab. What else? Fort Bottom. White Rim. Upheaval Dome. Butte of the Cross. Dollhouse. Yeah, I’m just listing cool stuff—are you Googling yet? You should be sitting down when you do.

At 730 miles long, the Green River is the largest tributary of the Colorado River. Its headwaters are in the Wind River Range in Wyoming. Feature Photo: Mike Bezemek

Eight reasons to paddle the longest single-state river trail system in the U.S. 

Alabama Scenic River Trail

The Alabama Scenic River Trail offers more than 5,000 miles of waterways, world-class rapids,  free-flowing streams and large lakes, but it remains little known but to a small group of paddlers in the Southeastern United States.

Now river trail organizers there are trying to change that, pointing to water-front campsites, dozens of independent outfitters and a new website with interactive trip-planning tools as reasons paddlers from outside Alabama’s borders should check it out. Paddlers may also be drawn to this fact: The 11-year-old Alabama Scenic River Trail is the longest single-state river trail in the U.S. and it is located in one of the most biologically diverse regions of the country.

Here are eight reasons why you should paddle the Alabama Scenic River Trail.

The challenge

At more than 5,000 miles, the Alabama Scenic River Trail is the longest single state river trail in the U.S. It includes non-contiguous sections, appropriate for short day trips or long-distance runs. The system also includes the original 650-mile, core section of the river trail, which stretches across the state from the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains to the Gulf of Mexico.

Wildlife views

The river trail brings paddlers through the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, around pitcher plant bogs, into alligator country and finally to the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico. It offers views of towering waterfalls, waterscapes accented with plush, green foliage and encounters with otters, bald eagles, giant turtles and more.

Great Alabama 650

The core section of the trail doubles as a racecourse for paddlers who take on the Great Alabama 650, an adventure-packed, long-distance paddle race in its inaugural year. The Great Alabama 650 stands apart from other races and is recognized as the longest paddle-only race in the United States and the longest annual paddle race in the word.

Hospitality

About a dozen designated trail angels support the Alabama Scenic River Trail. They are  available to offer advice, hands-on assistance, and in some instances, even an overnight stay to trail-goers.

[ Paddling Trip Guide: See all Alabama Trips ]

Accommodations

River trail organizers have established more than 100 campsites along the system, offering long-distance travellers overnight accommodations at the water’s edge. These sites are listed on the river trail website and are marked by blue signs on the waterfront to make them easier for paddlers to find.

Trip planning

At www.AlabamaScenicRiverTrail.com is a mobile-friendly, interactive map of the river trail. Divided into ten districts, paddlers can scroll over or tap any section of the map for detailed information about each section of the river trail. The website also allows users to develop their own account and add content to the site.

Variety

The Alabama Scenic River Trail includes a wide-range of water types. Paddlers can tackle class-five rapids on frothy rivers, schedule tranquil paddle boarding sessions on flat water, or float down narrow streams near city centres.

Access

More than 50 outfitters line the banks of the Alabama Scenic River Trail and are listed on the website. These small, independent shops offer a range of services to include rentals, guided trips, shuttling and boat sales.

You can connect with the Alabama Scenic River Trail on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter and it is supported by a team of creative, adventurous ambassadors. You can find more on social media about the river trail by following the hashtag #OnTheASRT.

Text by Laura Gaddy

 

International Paddle Athletes Buzz About New Alabama Race

Alabama Scenic River Trail

Four decades ago on a rural Alabama creek, a 10-year-old boy launched a canoe and began a journey that would one day lead him to a serendipitous experience in Canada’s Yukon Territory. 

Now a 50-year-old river trail promoter, that boy, Jay Grantland, is a canoe guide so experienced he can use the gauges on his 20-year old Wenger watch to clock the speed of paddlers to determine how long it will take to reach their destination. He has paddled thousands of miles on Alabama’s waterways over rapids, on flat water, on slow-moving streams and to destinations with ecological and historical gems like Native American rock paintings and rare flowers and birds. As the Executive Director of the Alabama Scenic River Trail, a 5,000-mile river trail system, Grantland’s latest challenge involves promoting the Great Alabama 650, an adventure-packed, cash-rewarded paddle race that he hopes will launch international interest in paddle sport opportunities in Alabama.

In late June, Grantland and Race Director Greg Wingo, a 40-something ultra-marathon runner and endurance sports aficionado, made a 6,000-mile trek to Whitehorse, Canada to promote the Great Alabama 650. Grantland and Wingo had been in town for less than 12 hours when they were seated across from each other at a tiny wooden table outside Baked, local coffee house, when they learned that word of the Alabama race had already reached Whitehorse.

“We were there having a conversation with a gentleman about trail running and being from Alabama,” Wingo said, recalling the moment. “Another man sitting nearby, named Walter, turned to us and said,

“Have you heard of the Great Alabama 650?” To which we said, “Yes we’re the ones putting on that race.”

The Great Alabama 650 will be the longest paddle-only race in the United States and the longest annual paddle-only race in the world, second in total distance only to the Yukon 1000, which takes place every other year. The Great Alabama 650 will take place on the core section of the Alabama Scenic River Trail and will take paddlers from the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains to the Gulf of Mexico. 

“This is a no-frills race,” Wingo said. “It’s more closely aligned with an adventure race than the typical paddle race.“

Participants in the Great Alabama 650 will paddle through long stretches of wilderness as well as some of Alabama’s towns and cities, including Montgomery, the state’s capital. They will portage around 11 dams, encounter a bout of whitewater and face-off with the headwinds from the Gulf of Mexico on the glassy, flat waters of the Mobile Bay. Along the way they will encounter a range of wildlife, to include everything from alligators to otters. 

“Our race is going to continually test every one of our competitors right to the very end,” Wingo said. “Racers will be battling the course as much as they will be battling other racers, if not more.” 

[ Paddling Trip Guide: See all Alabama Trips ]

Walter, the man from the coffee shop, was one of the racers in Whitehorse to compete in the Yukon River Quest, a long-distance paddle race that takes place on the off-years between Yukon 1000 races. The Great Alabama 650 promoters had timed their trip to coincide with the Yukon River Quest so they’d have a chance to meet paddle athletes and race organizers.

More racers in Whitehorse discovered that Grantland and Wingo were representing the Great Alabama 650 and affirmed what Walter, the paddler at the coffee shop, had already indicated: news of the race in Alabama had already spread to the paddle community in the Pacific Northwest.  

“I was pleasantly surprised at how many people were not only aware of the race, but really excited about it,” Wingo said. “Many of the world’s toughest paddlers will get a chance to experience the beauty and challenge of our Alabama waterways during the Great Alabama 650. We are excited to put on the longest paddle race in the country.”

To learn more about the Great Alabama 650, visit www.AL650.com, or use the hashtag #AL650 to find the race on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. Interested paddlers can also find out more about the Alabama Scenic River Trail at www.AlabamaScenicRiverTrail.com, or by using the hashtag #OnTheASRT on social media channels. 

Text by Laura Gaddy

The Ultimate Kayak Camping Packing List

Person kayaking along a rocky shoreline
Keep this list handy for quick-packing when an impromptu trip arises.

There’s nothing better than paddling with pals on your way to an epic spot for an overnight. But what do you bring for your kayak camping trip? Paddling Magazine has created the ultimate kayak camping packing list so you can be prepared and comfortable on your adventure.

Don’t forget to check your list twice.

Kayak accessory essentials

● Kayak
● Sprayskirt
● PFD for everyone
● Paddle, plus a spare
● Paddle float
● Drybags

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: View all kayak accessories]

Kayak camping gear

● Tent or hammock
● Sleeping bag
● Sleeping pad

What to wear kayaking

● Paddling top
● Warm baselayer
● Quick-dry pants and shirt
● Rain gear
● Extra socks
● Hat and sunglasses
● Immersion protection

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: View our selection of kayaking apparel ]

Camp kitchen equipment

● Water treatment and bottles
● Stove, fuel and cookset
● Food and snacks
● Mess kit
● Rope to hang bear bag overnight

Kayak safety gear

● Compass and map
● Bailer or bilge pump
● First aid kit
● Lighter/matches
● Sunscreen
● Communications/signalling device
● Weather/VHF Radio

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: View our selection of safety & rescue items ]

Camp supplies you don’t want to forget

● Headlamp
● Multi-tool
● Toilet paper
● Bug spray
● Emergency cash

Travel Photographer Paddles And Explores Sri Lanka

an aerial shot of several fishing boats paddling in Sri Lanka
Cory Leis is an adventure and travel photographer based in Whistler, British Columbia. | Photo: Cory Leis

Wonder and curiosity struck me the first time I set my eyes on photographer Steve McCurry’s image of four stilt Sri Lankan fishermen back in 1995.

The very act of fishing while perched atop a single pole was so foreign to me. It’s one of many travel photographs that remains with me and fuels my inner wanderlust.

For years, intrepid travelers skipped over the small island of Sri Lanka in favor of bustling India or the jaw-dropping atolls of the Maldives.

Following a 30-year civil war, it’s only the last 10 years tourists have landed in the busy hub of Colombo and trekked deeper into the rolling hillsides, exploring centuries-old Buddhist temples, tea plantations and wildlife sanctuaries.

Now it’s one of the top emerging travel destinations. As a photographer, I do oodles of research into a destination before my bags are packed.

As I dug deeper, I realized for an area the size of Ireland, Sri Lanka seemed to offer more outdoor and cultural experiences than many other places I’ve visited.

[ Paddling Trip Guide: Explore more adventures ]

Most of the decades-long civil war concentrated in the north and interior of the island, but the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and resulting tsunami decimated the southern coast.

Livelihoods tightly woven into the tides were torn apart, buildings and boats close to the ocean were destroyed, people lost their loved ones, and the rest of the world scrambled to provide aid to the beach communities in the south.

One of the many acts of kindness came from small fishing towns throughout the Netherlands, like the famous herring city of Vlaardingen, which donated fishing boats to coastal fishing families so they could sustain themselves.

These colorful boats sparked my curiosity—on closer look they are adorned with the names and locations of the donors.

As the morning sun rises over the horizon, this particular little spot on the south coast lights up as the fishermen’s boats full of color and texture contrast the clear Indian Ocean.

The bay is shallow, fringed by a massive reef protecting the boats during large swells, and also funneling a right-handed wave perfect for long boarding and SUP surfing. Photographing the ocean, and particularly a coastline with a shallow reef, provides the opportunity to fly a drone and offer a unique perspective.

Though the drone is cumbersome when traveling and I only pull it out occasionally, all the hassle is worthwhile when I get back and see the images.

Travel adventure photography is more than just the photo. It’s the people, sounds, smells and culture, all wrapped up in a digital capture. One of the first days we surfed this wave, we exited to the beach as the fishermen were returning from a night’s outing.

Rama, who seemed to captain a vessel, came over with his big welcoming smile and introduced himself. He offered us some fresh catch and we sat and spoke with him for the better part of an hour.

He explained what had happened to the families after the tsunami, answered our queries about the unique names of the local fishing boats, and became a friendly face on our surf sessions down at what we took to calling Fishermans.

With my own photography, I hope to strike a little wonder in the viewer’s eyes, inspiring someone else to book a ticket, travel a little deeper and snap an image you’ll never forget.

Cory Leis is an adventure and travel photographer based in Whistler, British Columbia. | Feature Photo: Cory Leis

 

The Paddleboarder’s Guide To Falling In Love With Surfing

several paddleboarders catching waves to surf on a breaking wave
"The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever." —Jacques Cousteau Photo: Keenan Bush

“Waves were the playing field. They were the goal. They were the object of your deepest desire and adoration. At the same time, they were your adversary, your nemesis, even your mortal enemy. The surf was your refuge, your happy hiding place, but it was also a hostile wilderness — a dynamic, indifferent world.”

Two years ago, these words, written by William Finnegan in his Pulitzer Prize-winning surfing memoir Barbarian Days, would have meant nothing to me. I was born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, and have spent the past 20 years living in a pair of cities, Edmonton and now Ottawa, far from any ocean.

To me, waves were not a dynamic object of desire; they were entirely foreign, traversed only on big boats and entered only on brief forays from the beach. Surfing, meanwhile, was as alien and abstract as astrophysics or Sunday school—a passion or a pastime for people whose circles rarely crossed mine. Then I got my first standup paddleboard, and over a couple summers progressed from lakes and flatwater rivers to whitewater and ocean touring. And then I caught a wave.

Finnegan’s formative experiences as a surfer were in California and Hawaii. I first tasted the thrill at Sandbanks Provincial Park, near the tip of a headland that juts into Lake Ontario just west of Kingston, three hours by car from home. Sandbanks—site of the world’s largest bay mouth barrier dune formation—has clear water and long sandy beaches. When a swell rolls in or the wind kicks up, the waves are rideable. Even the ankle biters. Especially on a paddleboard.

During a late-September heat wave, no wetsuit required, on my 10-foot hardshell, I pivoted onto a three-foot breaker and rocketed back toward the shore. And then did it again. And again.

Despite the speed, time slowed while balanced on the board. I understood, waiting for the next set, looking over my shoulder and squinting into the sun, why people devote their lives to chasing this intoxicating alchemy of energy and serenity; why I, a middle-aged geographically challenged dad on a family camping trip, felt suddenly compelled to do the same.

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: See all surf paddleboards ]

My next session, a month later at the same beach, with wind gusts topping 60 miles an hour, revealed the extent of those challenges. I had to battle into the onshore wind to reach the water from the parking lot, but it was the only surf in the forecast during a holiday weekend visit to a nearby cabin, and those brief seconds of flying atop the water were worth it.

A few factors prevented me from relocating to a tropical surf break for a month to get the hang of my new obsession. My family. My job. My bank account. Throughout the ensuing winter, watching surfing videos online and reading about the sport stoked an inexorable yearning to get back onto a wave.

When the ice on the rivers that run through Ottawa broke apart, I completed my now-traditional spring ritual: an after-work, one-way, 10-kilometer paddle down the Rideau River on my inflatable SUP, propelled by the current through a patch of class I bumps, and then a rush-hour bus ride home. It feels defiant and deeply satisfying to be standing amid commuters with a paddle in hand and a PFD strapped to an oversized pack. Yet still, it wasn’t enough.

Salvation came a couple weeks later on the Ottawa River. I had heard about locals who river surfed on standing waves that rise with the freshet. Kayakers, conventional surfers and now SUP surfers congregate at Bate Island, near the middle of the river, where an eddy snug tight to a retaining wall provides access to a series of waves that are rideable for maybe two months every spring. I joined the lineup on a crisp Saturday afternoon wearing a borrowed too-thin wetsuit and asked the only other paddleboarder for advice.

“There’s an extra helmet in my car,” he said. “Go get it and put it on.”

When my protective new pal crossed the eddyline and slipped onto the wave, he made it look comically easy, cutting and sliding back and forth across the face for as long as he wanted to remain upright. A half dozen prone surfers did the same. My turns were shorter. Within a second or two, I’d be down and tumbling through the rest of the rapids. When I finally managed to catch the wave for about half a minute, either the next day or the one after that—the sessions blurred together, one turbulent ice bath after another—I knew river surfing would also be part of my future.

Summer is usually considered prime paddleboarding season, but when water levels dropped and the wave at Bate Island disappeared, it felt like I had lost a friend. A really frustrating friend, mind you—the type who might not be good for you, but you just can’t stay away from. Fortunately, trips over the next few months took me to both coasts.

In Newfoundland, a tip from a local sent me to a rocky harbor at dawn to catch the incoming swell. I hoped to build on that success last fall in Tofino, with, for the first time, a proper SUP surf board and, probably more important, proper coaching. And though I did get some waves, the longer I stayed on the water, the more I fell and failed. Which reminded me of a saying I’ve heard about complicated places. Visit for one day and the country will be totally confusing. After a month, you’ll start to figure it out. After a year, you’ll be baffled again. That captures my relationship with surfing. I’m in head over heels, often literally, and can’t wait for more.

Ottawa-based writer Dan Rubinstein loves all forms of paddleboarding. His first book, Born to Walk: The Transformative Power of a Pedestrian Act, was published in 2015, and he’s now working on a non-fiction book about paddleboarding.

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” —Jacques Cousteau | Feature photo: Keenan Bush

 

Why The Real River Story Is In The Little Details

person paddling a raft down a scenic canyon
“Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.”—Mark Twain Photo: Caleb Roberts

I’ve taken to drinking scotch. I’ve never been much of a drinker, really, and I’m still not. I became interested in scotch on a bit of a whim, tagging along on a tasting evening hosted by a kilted guy with a thick brogue. It is an acquired taste, but Mr. MacKilt neatly opened the door to understanding the drink.

There were many samples to taste as one would expect, but there was also wood from the barrels, maps of the different regions, a thousand years of cultural history told with humor, and photos of 100-year-old distilleries still operating today.

There was a whole story. I felt like I understood what I was holding in my hand, even if it tasted like smoky leather and burned my throat. I knew the story of the lovely amber liquid in my glass, and that made all the difference.

How drinking scotch relates to running rivers

Let me explain.

I love river trips—the whole trip though, not just the exciting bits or the paddling parts. I love the early possibilities and preliminary ideas, finding the maps and digging for the info I need to connect the dots.

[ Plan your next great adventure with the Paddling Trip Guide ]

I love the gear lists and sorting and garage floor covered in equipment and food bags; closing my eyes trying to envision where everything will get rigged. I love loading the trucks and figuring out the shuttle.

The importance of details was hammered into me as a guide. One of my early mentors, a trip leader by the name of Walt Wolfe, would quote Laurence Bell: “Show me a person who cannot bother to do the little things and I will show you a person who can’t be trusted to do the big things.”

It’s all about the little things

I grew to take pride in my ability to deliver on the little things. Importantly, though, I grew to realize how big things are made up of so many small details. Which is how it is with rivers.

I love reading about where I’m going. The seasons, the geology, the fish, and who owns the land. Where does this river come from and where does it go, who ran it first and, more importantly, why.

What else is going on upstream and down, how the locals make a living, or who lived there before my people showed up. The whole story. Not just logistics of a trip, but the story of a whole place. All of the little things assembled into a big, meaningful thing.

This all occurred to me while looking at the large wall map of Scottish distilleries. In those early days, I was somewhat ambivalent about the flavor of what was in my glass, but even then, I really appreciated and felt connected to everything about it.

The real river story

The details of barley and water and a cultural history combined into something much bigger. Likewise, it is for this connection I sow the seeds on my river trips, something I look forward to as much as the river running itself.

Make no mistake, I love rigging the boats every morning, and being pulled by the current, and rapids spice up the adventure.

But it is the story of the river that makes the whole endeavor absorbing and worthwhile.

The thousand details of putting a trip together means the travel goes smoothly; the thousands of details of what makes a place a place provides some meaning to what I see and experience.

Paddling downstream is connecting the dots on the map, combining the little things into something bigger.

Jeff Jackson is an outdoor education professor at Algonquin College and a risk management consultant. His regular column, Alchemy, shares lessons learned from a life on the river.

“Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.”—Mark Twain
Photo: Caleb Roberts

It Is Never Too Cold To Go Paddleboarding

man standing with his paddleboard in the winter covered with icicles on his face
Tougher than Sub-Zero. Photo: Sandy Nicholson

One of the first times Geoff Ortiz surfed the Great Lakes was back in 2007 in Toronto. It was December and cold. Ortiz had learned to surf in Costa Rica seven years earlier and was fully addicted. Once he realized he could surf in his hometown of Toronto, he started watching the weather and heading to Bluffer’s Park on the city’s east side whenever the swell was up.

One morning, as he crossed the road in his wetsuit with his board under his arm, a police officer approached him.

“He goes, ‘what are you doing?’” recalls Ortiz. “I told him I was going surfing. He said, ‘what do you mean you’re going surfing?’ And he just had to clarify. He had to make sure I was sound of mind.”

Since then, Ortiz has surfed Ontario, Huron and Erie whenever possible. One look at his Instagram feed shows that if there are waves, he’s out there. The self-employed contractor regularly drops everything to chase the freshwater swell.

“I’ll drop the kids at school and go straight from there. If I’m going to Lake Erie, my wife will drop the kids off at school a little earlier. On those days, I’ll make lunches for the kids and leave as early as possible to beat traffic,” he says of the two-hour drive.

Four years ago, Ortiz stopped taking his surfboards with him and began standup paddleboarding instead.

“I realized I’d be able to catch more waves and spend more time on the water with a SUP. But early on, I wasn’t catching many waves at all. It was quite difficult,” he recalls. “I was always dealing with chop and falling a lot. But I was stubborn. Once I got the hang of it, I got more waves and the rides tended to be a lot longer than on a surfboard.”

Despite the sub-zero temperatures, winter is a great time to surf the Great Lakes. At any given wind speed, waves build higher in cold weather because cold air over warm water transfers more wind energy than warm air over cold water.

[Paddling Buyer’s Guide: View All Standup Paddleboards]

When the water temperature is close to zero, and the air temperature is below zero, a mild 15-kilometer wind will generate two- to three-foot waves. Lower wind speed makes for cleaner waves too.

But how does Ortiz motivate himself to get in the water when it’s -15°C, before factoring in the windchill?

“I’ve done it enough times now I’ve normalized it,” he says. “For the first while it was harder to motivate myself to get out there. And as a paddleboarder, it can actually be quite cold until you get some water in the suit. Even though I know it’ll be warmer once I get in the water, I still avoid it while up on my board. But once I fall in, I warm right up.”

man standing with his paddleboard in the winter covered with icicles on his face
Tougher than Sub-Zero. Photo: Sandy Nicholson

Now an ambassador for Xcel wetsuits, Ortiz wears a 5/4/3 suit—five-millimeter thick neoprene on the body, four-millimeter on the arms and three-millimeter on the hood—and rubs “wind and weather” cream on his face.

He’s usually the only standup paddleboarder out in the dead of winter, but he’s often not alone. There’s a small but mighty band of Great Lakes surfers who claim as long as the lake isn’t iced-over, it’s never too cold to surf.

“With wetsuit technology, it’s really not crazy at all,” says Ortiz. “I can pull my hand out of my glove and shake hands with somebody and my hand will be warmer than someone walking on the beach. It’s not crazy once you start. The session doesn’t end because I’m cold, it ends because I’m exhausted.”

Tougher than Sub-Zero. Photo: Sandy Nicholson