Princess and the Portage

By

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March 3, 2017

It was going to take us a good hour to make the big water crossing. The wind was blowing straight into our bow and every third or fourth wave capped before rolling. My daughter, Kyla, helped prepare for the rough paddle by shifting the packs and the dog to better trim the canoe. She tightened her chin strap on her rain hat, braced her knees to the sides of the boat, and begged me to tell her one of my silly stories to make the time go by more quickly—and ease our anxiety.

“Once upon a time, in a place far, far away there lived an evil toad and a princess with very hairy armpits,” I began.

It was a proud moment for me. Even though my daughter recently mutated into a pre-teen, she still thinks it’s cool to listen to one of my farfetched yarns—for now, anyways.

A lot has changed over the first 10 years of tripping together. Now Kyla carries her own pack, paddles even when no one tells her, sleeps with only one stuffy, does at least half her camp chores and whittles her own marshmallow sticks.

There are some downfalls, of course. She leaves her bras hanging from the clothesline, gets dramatic over the slightest things, continues to tell me I don’t understand, shaves her legs in my cooking pots and wants to sleep in every morning.

I’ll take a few negatives, however. Kyla is great company. We tripped more days together this past summer than her friends spent at the beach—and she’s proud of it.

I know I’m a lucky single dad.

Like father, like daughter.| PHOTO: ONTARIO TOURISM

Enjoying wilderness canoe trips together means juggling the roles of protective father, knowledgeable wilderness guide and goofy camp counsellor. We sing songs, play games, and bake birthday cakes for no reason. We get down on our hands and knees to look at tiny seedlings and insects on the forest floor, sometimes referencing our field guide if we don’t recognize them. And I try to swallow my parental instincts and let her make her own mistakes.

I do all this because Kyla has grown up loving the wilderness and canoe tripping, and I want to keep it that way. The joys and miseries of backbreaking portages and 50-kilometer days can wait until she’s older. I want canoe tripping to be fun so she keeps wanting more. And, so far, it’s working.

Most importantly, Kyla is part of each trip we go on from planning to completion. She’s not just tagging along. She’s invested in the adventure. I think it’s this small bit of ownership in her world, which is otherwise largely dictated by adult-enforced rules, that keeps her so in love with it.

On that big open water crossing my tale grew until our anxieties were forgotten. I told her of a stone castle guarded by a giant, venomous toad and a clever princess who braided her hairy armpits into lengths of rope to escape the tower. When we reached the far shore I paused the story until we had carried over to the next lake. Then I continued the tale, adding a caramel lake surrounded by a wild forest populated with emus and a wizard with a candy cane wand.

“And the princess and the wizard went on to have many more adventures together. And they all lived happily ever after,” I finished as we arrived at the take-out. “Except for the toad—he died.”

Stepping on land, I was rewarded with a big hug.

“I love you, Dad,” Kyla whispered to me. “I can’t wait for our next trip.”

Kevin Callan is a wilderness guide and author, and considers himself the luckiest dad in the world. Butt End is a regular column in Canoeroots.

CCC PartnerBadge Web Watch THE CANOE an award-winning film that tells the story of Canada’s connection to water and how paddling in Ontario is enriching the lives of those who paddle there. #PaddleON.

The Happy Camper at the Outdoor Adventure Show in Toronto

Videos

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

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March 2, 2017

We could do a long, drawn out wrap up of our time at the Outdoor Adventure Show in Toronto last weekend, or we could let a wild Kevin Callan who parades around throwing hats sum it up for us.

In this light hearted video, (we expect nothing less from the Happy Camper), Kevin Callan, visits vendors, spectators, fellow outdoorsmen and women to discuss some the latest happenings in the outdoors world.

Expect to see representatives from Ontario Travel, Wild Rock Outfitters, KIHD Stoves, and some very happy representatives of winter camping.

Kevin’s seminars at the Adventure in Paddling Stage drew large crowds of engaging fans. We should know, we were there too.

Kevin Callan is a seasoned columnist here at Canoeroots Magazine, he is however, not a seasoned stove etcher.

Watch THE CANOE, an award-winning film that tells the story of Canada’s connection to water and how paddling in Ontario is enriching the lives of those who paddle there. #PaddleON.

Why Slow Change Is Good For Sea Kayaking

By

Neil Schulman

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February 28, 2017

Rene beams at his new kayak like a proud parent. We take turns hopping between his ride—this year’s hot new ocean play kayak—and my 18-year-old Nigel Dennis Kayak Explorer, which is older than one of the paddlers on our trip. Rene asks the predictable question: “So, when are you going to replace that thing?” No time soon, I tell him.

While whitewater kayaks undergo almost annual redesigns, careening into outlandish shapes—anyone remember the Perception Mr. Clean?—sea kayak hulls by comparison have evolved at a snail’s pace. A new Explorer’s hull is the same as my old one. Rene’s hot new ride isn’t that different from my Valley Avocet. The Avocet was released in 2000.

It’s tempting to chalk up the slow pace of change to the sport’s love of heritage, but I beg to differ. Design consistency is about the perfection of what sea kayaks do: navigate mixed conditions in a single voyage. They must do a decent job at everything: speeding over flats, managing wind, gear-hauling, rough-water stability and playfulness. This restricts how far design can go in any one direction. After all, just an 11-percent difference in waterline turns an 18-foot expedition boat into a 16-foot day-tourer. Designers have only tiny margins to play with: a little more rocker here, a tad less volume there.

This demand for versatility imposes what evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould called the “right wall of evolution.” In stable parameters, the first set of big innovations provides major advantages. For sea kayaking, I’d say that was back in the ‘80s and ‘90s. After that, innovation comes in tiny increments with high costs in other functionality. Build up any one factor and you’ll have boats like the Valley Rapier or P&H Hammer: great at one thing—racing and surfing, respectively—but not so great in other waters. In competition, where a tiny advantage shaves off a fraction of a second, these advantages matter. However, for mixed conditions, design can only push the right wall so far.

It’s actually a huge benefit to paddlers that kayak hulls remain so similar. We can’t help but become better.

Elena Moon, a professional user-experience designer, and expert fly fisher Amy Hazel nailed this in a recent TED Radio Hour talk. Fishing rods, like sea kayaks, have been unchanged for years—which Hazel loves. “When your tools don’t change, you have time to learn the soft stuff,” she says. “In fly-fishing it’s the study of insects, and the habitat of the fish. You don’t worry, ‘I can’t cast on this rod because it’s so different from the rod last year.’”

Moon chimed in: “You learn your craft at a higher level when you’re not spending a good portion of your energy re-learning your tools.” The same is true of kayaks. The infinite varieties of water, current, swell and wind are plenty to keep us occupied. We don’t need a new boat to figure out, too. Like sharks that evolved millions of years before dinosaurs, sea kayak designers figured out the steep part of the innovation curve long ago. Play around with a quarter inch of stern rocker if you want. I’m going paddling.

A regular contributor to Adventure Kayak, Neil Schulman writes, photographs and does conservation work in Portland, Oregon.

Shit Kayakers Never Say

Stories

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

-

February 27, 2017

iStock — A kayaker sits in an eddy in an orange creek boat.

“I can’t wait to get a boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife who doesn’t understand my kayaking obsession.”

“I have so much money these days.”

“I’ll go with the small poutine instead of the large.”

“Duct tape can’t fix that.”

“Station wagons are so lame.”

“I never bother to boof.”

“I never get scared anymore on the river.”

“I’m so tired of having a mullet.”

“I can’t wait to get an office job.”

“These gaskets are just too flush.”

“There were so many girls at that kayaking party.”

“I never mess up the shuttle.”

“Gas prices are awesome right now!”

“I’m super organized and never leave my gear strewn on the ground like an explosion went off in my van.”

“Beer tastes so good from my booties.”

“I wish I could trade these Chacos for some sharp-looking penny loafers.”

“I’ve never struggled once putting on my skirt.”

“I’m not really into stouts.”

Shit Kayakers Say

Stories

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

-

February 27, 2017

“Is this thing on?”

“Who’s driving shuttle?”

“My skirt is at the take-out”—said at the put-in

“Who has the car keys?”—said at the take out

“I’m just going kayaking for a few hours”—returns 24 hours later

“Let’s go hunt some stouts.”

“I don’t get why my boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife gets so mad that I go kayaking all the time.”

“Boofed it!”

“Nice Chacos!”

“Going to church.”

“Chaka chaka”

“Dude, I really love your Subaru.”

“I need to get sponsored.”

“My roll is so bomber this year.”

“What’s the level?”

“Can you zip me up?”

“Can I sleep in your car?”

“Do you think we can shower at the public pool?”

“My booties are so grimy.”

“I’ll pitch for gas next time we go kayaking.”

Backcountry Brushwork Part I: Lisa Dianne Martin

Skills

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

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February 27, 2017

Lisa Dianne Martin paints colorado 14ers mountains

The water mimics another dimension with its statue stillness beaming trees downwards.

It’s golden hour, and as the sun rises, the steam off the water stays paralell to that of its reflection. Suddenly the rays burst through with a sense of purpose we can only dream of having.

We’ve all been here, without a paint brush, pastels, watercolors or sketch pad and quite possibly without a clue on how to approach plein air. Or maybe not, but nothing sparks a desire of creative gain quite like surreal moments in the backcountry.

Most artists already know what they need, but here is a list of essentials and tips for all of us, who may not know what to bring, or how to transport it safely. This is for those who can create beautiful works of art, and those of us who use ‘abstract’ as an easy out.

Reaching out to three artists, I asked them to share their art-hacks, and valuable lessons they’ve learnt while creating works in demanding, remote locations. Part One begins with avid hiker, and most importantly, apexer, Lisa Dianne Martin.

She may not be a backcountry paddler but conquering all 58 of Colorado’s mountains over 14,000 ft tall, and then painting on their summits, likely qualifies Lisa’s expertise in the matter.

I spoke with Lisa about her choice of tools, how she transports everything, and tricks to painting in one of the most elementally demanding environments in the world, mountain ranges.

“If it’s cold, especially below 20 degrees Fahrenheit, don’t add water to your acrylic paints. That will cause them to freeze, and when they thaw they will melt and run all over the place.” Lisa explains.

Lisa

“A snowboard makes such a perfect easel.” Lisa Dianne Martin

Keeping things light is essential for every day trips and backcountry excursions. Lisa has mastered dual purposing on all of her tools, from the canvas itself to water bottles.

“I am very minimalistic so I paint on my lap using no easel. I use the back of the canvas or board as a mixing pallet and keep my paints in a plastic bag so if [when] they explode they don’t go all over. “

“I also like to keep things as light as possible. I bring about 4oz of water for my paint and leave my brushes in the bottle after I finish.”

My biggest question for every artist was, how they safely get their works of art back out to civilization. After painting on the summit of at least 58 mountains, Lisa has gained a lot of perspective when it comes to protecting artwork from the elements, and ourselves.

“If using acrylic the paint can normally dry fast to transport it safely, but if using oil, there needs to be something to separate the surface from touching it’s surroundings.”

Judson Art Carrying Boxes Allow Paint to Dry While Keeping Them Safe From Elements

“I had Judson Art create a custom one [box] for the size of paintings that I bring. This allows me to do two paintings in one day, and I can face the paintings in toward one another. The gap still allows for the paintings to dry.”

“Often times when I have a wet acrylic painting I will carefully put a very thin piece of plastic over the top of it and won’t use a carrier. It continues drying while I hike and then I peal off the plastic when I get to my car. Normally smears are very minimally.”

More tips from Lisa:

“I also like using birch plywood primed with house paint because it is cheap, lightweight and thin compared to a canvas.”

I’ve found backpacks designed to carry snowboards are great for carrying paintings- you can wrap the painting in a plastic bag and attach it to the outside of your pack.”

“I tend to sleep through my alarm clocks and use my clothes or hands as paint brushes when I’m in a hurry.” Lisa may be our newest hero here at Canoeroots.

Lisa3

You can see Lisa’s work here and learn more about her goal of ascending and painting from every summit over 14,000ft in the United States.

You can also follow Lisa on Instagram @paintthemountain and Facebook Paint The Mountain

Remembering The Toughest Canoeist Of All Time

By

Brook Sutton

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February 24, 2017

Close to home on Lake Michigan after paddling 28,000 miles | PHOTOS: ARCHIVES OF PHIL PETERSON

Verlen Kruger canoed the full length of the Mississippi River several times over his 82 years. For most people, just one trip would provide bragging rights to last a lifetime. Kruger wasn’t most people.

It’s not just that boasting wasn’t part of his repertoire, it’s that he logged an insane amount of miles in his canoe. With expeditions crisscrossing the entire Western Hemisphere, Kruger paddled more than 100,000 miles. That’s more than 42 runs of the Mississippi River, or four trips around the equator. Take your pick.

Born in 1922, Kruger grew into a charismatic and confident man. His friends would recall how he seemed fearless, excepting of course, his phobias of bears and armadillos, which he’d only cop to when talking in his sleep. At 41 years old, he started canoeing. He spent the next 41 years making up for lost time.

Driven by an obsessive devotion to his new sport, he redefined expedition canoeing. Measured by mileage or by ambition, his adventures were nothing short of colossal.

Kruger consulting a map near Seattle | PHOTO: ARCHIVES OF PHIL PETERSON

In 1971, at 49 years old, he and partner, Clint Waddell, followed old fur trading routes from Montreal, Canada, to the Bering Sea in Alaska. Dubbed the Cross Continent Canoe Safari, they covered approximately 7,000 miles in 176 days. It’s presumed to be the fastest time ever for that route.

Speed wasn’t always the primary goal. In 1980, Kruger and partner, Steve Landick, put in on the Red Rock River, in Red Rock, Montana, and didn’t stop until they’d covered 28,040 miles of North American rivers, lakes and coastal waters. The duo paddled from the Beaufort Sea to Cabo San Lucas and ran the lengths of the Pacific and Atlantic coastlines of the United States. For the inland segments, this audacious trip included upstream runs of the Mississippi and Colorado Rivers, including eddy-hopping up through the Grand Canyon. They finished in Lansing, Michigan, in December 1983.

Eager for more, Kruger expanded the latitudes for his next major expedition. From 1986 to 1989, he and Valerie Fons canoed 21,000 miles from the Northwest Territories, Canada, to Cape Horn, Tierra del Fuego, Chile. This expedition ramped up the danger. There were overnight open-water crossings on the Caribbean, flooded rivers, and navigational morasses through the maze of the South American river system.

In and around these big trips, Kruger tackled smaller events. In 2001, at age 79, he raced with Bob Bradford in the Mississippi River Challenge. They finished in 24 days and placed first. The next year, he celebrated his 80th birthday by running 2,040 miles of the Yukon River.

Close to home on Lake Michigan after paddling 28,000 miles | PHOTOS: ARCHIVES OF PHIL PETERSON

If it was his obsessive nature that drove him to take on expeditions of such massive scale, it also proved to be the spark that inspired nearly everyone he met. In finding his life’s passion at 41 years old, Kruger was an open book of encouragement for others to do the same.

“I believe that most people have such dreams. We need to reach out. And in reaching out, you grow, you learn, and you find out you can do things that you’re not sure you can do,” he said.

Kruger died in 2004. He’s been honored with statues, memorials and posthumous awards. His legacy survives in the more than 40 prototypes of expedition canoes he designed, three of which are still in production under the name Kruger Canoes (www.krugercanoes.com). His spirit lives on in everyone who follows their dreams with abandon. —Brook Sutton

Note: All mileages are approximate, due to differences in measuring techniques and

lack of precise location estimates. Despite these inconsistencies, Kruger’s achievement

of paddling more than 100,000 miles is not in dispute.

6 Ways For Whitewater Kayakers To Save Money

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

-

February 23, 2017

Flickr User Tim Lumley — A whitewater section of a river and forest along the river banks.

We love everything about whitewater kayaking. We love packing the car, loading the boats, the first snap of pulling a skirt on and the butterflies the sounds of the first rapids bring. When you begin whitewater kayaking, the price of accumulating equipment can initially be expensive, but then you are set for years to enjoy rivers at home and afar. No matter what your financial situation, saving money on kayaking trips, whether they are an afternoon long or for several days, means you can save up for that new boat you’ve been eyeing or a plane ticket to an amazing paddling destination. Here are our favorite tips.

Carpool to the river

If you’re going paddling with a group of friends, try to bring the least number of vehicles possible. If your run requires a shuttle, you will inevitably need two cars, but try to plan the route from your homes to the river in a way that puts the most number of bodies in each car.

Bring your food

There’s nothing wrong with peeling off your dry top and diving straight into a basket of crisp fries at the local chip truck, but eating a few meals out during your day of paddling can add up quickly. Think about what food and drinks you will enjoy most during and after paddling, and prepare them the night before. Hit up bulk food stores and stock up on your favorite river snacks so you can have them handy all season—think trail mix, granola bars, dried fruit, chocolate and crackers.

Bringing meals to the river doesn’t need to be basic. You make something semi-fancy, like beef and vegetable kebabs and pitas by firing up your camping stove at the takeout parking lot. Get a decent cooler and you will save money throughout the paddling season—and probably be healthier for it.

Make friends with other paddlers

It’s not difficult to make friends with kayakers. We’re a pretty friendly bunch. Going out of your way to be considerate and kind however, can have positive benefits for your paddling funds. We’re not advocating making friends to save money, but it is definitely a by-product of being a nice, outgoing person. Having lots of friends in the paddling community means you will be more likely to be invited to crash on someone’s couch or in their spare room, or be invited to share a homemade meal with them after you take off the river. Just make sure to return the favor, and above all else, always be a good guest.

Be well organized

This is probably the most crucial element for saving money as a kayaker. Being well prepared and knowing what you need or may potentially need on the road can save you a lot of money (and time). Think your paddling trip may go longer than expected? Pack extra food, your sleeping bag, sleeping pad and tent and avoid staying in a hotel. Not sure about the weather? Bring an insulated jacket and rain gear so you don’t end up having to buy new clothes on the road. Anticipate situations that may occur and pack accordingly. There is nothing worse than buying items on your kayaking trip that you already own but forgot.

Learn how to fix your own gear

Gear breaks. It happens all the time, especially if you are a river rat who is hard on their equipment. Educate yourself on what gear can be fixed or temporarily mended. By doing this you can prolong the life of your gear and only buy new items when you really need them.

Be your own barista

If you can’t start the day without a coffee, bring your own set up kayaking. A stove or a jet boil with any kind of coffee apparatus you like will get you your coffee fix quickly. By saving money by avoiding hitting up every café you see, you can splurge on the nicest beans you can find.

Preserving The Wilderness Has Costs And A Price

By

Virginia Marshall

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February 23, 2017

With a theatrical flourish, the man whips off his towel and stands facing the lake, naked and defiant, before diving into the water. He exits triumphantly, watching as I hastily herd my group up the shore away from his campsite.

The message is clear: This is my patch of wilderness—go find your own. It’s something that is becoming increasingly difficult to do. A new study released this fall in the science journal Current Biology reveals alarming losses in global wilderness over the last 20 years and contains a devastating prediction: the end of all wilderness by the year 2100.

Even the wilderness of today is not as wild as it seems. From microplastics and heavy metals pollution to kelp bed deforestation, fisheries collapse and climate change, human influence touches every corner of the planet and every other organism that shares it with us. Our troubled relationship with the natural world is the study of ecology writer J.B. MacKinnon’s 2013 book, The Once and Future World. MacKinnon provides countless examples of loss to illustrate the vastly diminished natural wealth of Earth today—what he calls a 10 Percent World.

Imagine the shoe was
on the otter foot.| PHOTO: VIRGINIA MARSHALL

Popular opinion holds that some unspecified natural disaster will eventually convince us to change our ruinous ways. But MacKinnon argues that we are right now living in the midst of an ecological catastrophe thousands of years in the making, and we scarcely notice it. As our choices have changed the natural world around us, we’ve changed with it. We’ve excused, permitted, adapted—and then we’ve forgotten. If you are unaware that whales once swam in your local waters, their absence seems perfectly natural.

As of 2008, more people worldwide live in cities than not. Nature is increasingly distant and abstract, so it’s even easier to overlook its decline. That the root of the term “ecology” is from the ancient Greek oikos, or house, seems like a historical oddity rather than an indisputable truth: The living planet is our home. Former editor of Adventure Kayak Tim Shuff has written about the transformative power of even a brief wilderness sojourn. “I felt like I was indeed on a planet, not wrapped up in a city or house, but under the blue sky on the round earth, listening to the breath of the wind in the boughs of the white pine and the sound of the water lapping on rocks.”

Economic arguments have been made to place a dollar value on wilderness, but ultimately that’s not the point. We conserve it because we like it, and we like how it makes us feel. How do we get more people to share these feelings? By sharing the pleasure we take in our remaining 10 percent. Like my friend Hannah. On a recent paddling trip in a popular park, she was enjoying the solitude of a private island campsite when a flotilla of noisy kids and sunburned dads pulled up at the shore. Would she mind sharing the island with their group, one of the dads asked? Every summer they traveled all the way from Texas to camp on this same island, it had become a touchstone of a family pilgrimage back to nature.

She graciously invited them ashore. Her reward: a Wonder-Bread-and- Hershey-bar s’more sandwich, and an opportunity. If the nature that we live with is a choice, then each of us could use a reminder what our options are.

How A Camp Stove Repaired A Canoe

By

Jay Kolsch

-

February 20, 2017

PLAYING WITH FIRE WORDS AND PHOTO BY JAY KOLSCH — Photo: Jay Kolsch

It was evening when we discovered the hole in the canoe. The four of us stood in a huddle staring blankly at the inch-long gash. “How’d that happen?” someone asked.

It didn’t matter how it happened or what caused it, the damage needed to be fixed. It was only day 14 of a 90-day expedition that would trace the Yukon River from source to sea. We were traveling the third longest river in North America, exploring the origins of the Athapaskan First Nation people who walked from Asia across the Bering land bridge to settle here more than 10,000 years ago.

Already the romanticism of traveling 2,000 miles by paddle was beginning to wear as thin as the hulls of our well-loved boats.

[ Also read: The One Real Risk Of Solo Paddling Adventures ]

The next morning on the banks of the Yukon River we fired up the satellite phone and called Patricia and Trevor, our friends in Whitehorse who were helping with logistics. If we could make it to Dawson City, two days away by paddle, they’d scrounge up a fiberglass repair kit. With a plan in place we carefully shoved off.

Dawson couldn’t come fast enough. We spent 48 hours battling the frigid downpours, pausing often to bail water entering the boat from above and below. It was late afternoon when we rounded the final bend and laid eyes on the historical Klondike city. Salvation.

For the first time in two days I didn’t wince when the canoe slid up on a sandy bank. We had arrived at the local Dawson campground. We unloaded the boats and found a covered area to stash the damaged canoe.

[ Also read: How to make your own voyageur hat from a tree ]

Patricia and Trevor arrived early in the morning. We wasted little time before getting down to business. It had rained all night and the river’s damp caress let nothing dry. The damaged area needed to be completely dry in order for the fiberglass patch to adhere. Without missing a beat, fellow paddler Ian Finch announced he had the solution and ran to retrieve his camp stove. Ian attached his propane canister and sparked the stove. Its flame filled the dreary shed with warm light.

For three minutes Ian applied heat to the damaged area of the hull. We then epoxied our fiberglass patch in place. The rest of the repair went smoothly. After a day and night of curing time the canoe that had carried us from the source of the Yukon River was now ready to continue its long journey to the Bering Sea.

Feature photo: Jay Kolsch

Princess and the Portage

The Happy Camper at the Outdoor Adventure Show in Toronto

Why Slow Change Is Good For Sea Kayaking

Shit Kayakers Never Say

Shit Kayakers Say

Backcountry Brushwork Part I: Lisa Dianne Martin

More tips from Lisa:

READ MORE: Artists Gone Wild: Nan Sidler

Remembering The Toughest Canoeist Of All Time

6 Ways For Whitewater Kayakers To Save Money

Carpool to the river

Bring your food

Make friends with other paddlers

Be well organized

Learn how to fix your own gear

READ MORE: How to fix a cracked kayak

Be your own barista

Preserving The Wilderness Has Costs And A Price

How A Camp Stove Repaired A Canoe