Easy Underwater Photography Tips

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June 17, 2014

Photo: Goh Iromoto — Easy Underwater Photography Tips

You don’t need a $10,000 housing to get underwater images like this one, says Toronto adventure photographer Goh Iromoto. For paddling photography, lighter is better. He uses a waterproof camera dry bag made by EWA-Marine to protect his Canon 5D Mark III. “It weighs just 400 grams compared to the 30-pound camera system I use for commercial underwater photography,” he says. “It’s so handy, I often leave it on when I’m kayaking. I’ve even jumped off a cliff with it, shooting as I fell into the water.”

Split images trick the camera’s autofocus into focusing on the waterline, rather than the scene beyond, warns Iromoto. Before dunking the camera, focus on your subject, set the camera to aperture-priority mode and use a wide aperture like F/2.8 or F/3.5. Then it’s just a matter of making sure the lens is half in, half out of the water. “Use your intuition and watch the subject,” rather than keeping your eye glued to the viewfinder, suggests Iromoto. Shooting with an ultra-wide angle lens and getting to know how it “sees” also help. “Knowing my lens means I know instinctively what will be in the frame,” he adds, “then I can just enjoy the scene.”

Click here for tons more paddling photography tips in the Early Summer 2014 issue of Adventure Kayak, or download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App.

Why Spending Money On New Experiences, Rather Than More Possessions, Produces Longer-Lasting Feelings Of Satisfaction

By

Charlotte Jacklein

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June 17, 2014

Work deadlines, family commitments, romantic distractions, dirty laundry, Zumba class. Our busy lives are already chock full of excuses that keep us from paddling. Gear shouldn’t be one of them.

Lately, however, I’ve noticed a concerning trend: The very equipment that is supposed to help us get outside sometimes holds us back.

In our quest to find the perfect gear to ac- company the perfect trip, we lose spontane- ity and flexibility, stretch our bank accounts and limit our opportunities for actually getting out on the water.

Some recent conversations with paddling friends have gone something like this:

“Hey, I’m going kayaking this weekend— want to come?”

“I’d like to but I don’t have ___ (Insert: ul- tralight tent; ideal expedition boat/surf boat/ whitewater boat; drysuit; carbon fiber paddle; multi-fuel backpacking stove; self-inflating, six-inch-thick, down-filled camping mattress; hybrid ultra-compressible sleeping bag; high- protein, organic, dehydrated meals).”

I’m thankful for developments in outdoor gear, but it also seems that once upon a time, paddling was a less elaborate—and less elit- ist—undertaking.

Maybe it’s a question of social circum- stance, geographic location, changing

demographics or other factors. Maybe I have rose-colored memories of summer camp trips with ridiculously heavy canoes, family trips with old canvas tents and semi-successful boat-building projects on the local pond with my siblings. Sometimes we sported cut-off jeans, often we wore old woolen sweaters. I can’t even remember our footwear or lack thereof.

Let me be clear, I am absolutely in favor of being well prepared with good gear. When guiding a 20-day trip on a remote northern river, you can be sure that I’ve triple- checked every sat phone battery, personally tested each tent zipper and carefully waterproofed and packed all the food (including the emergency meal, the extra emergency meal and the extra extra emergency meal). Even when I’m out for a relaxing afternoon paddle within splashing distance of city limits, I bring a standard safety kit and my holy crap emergency dry bag (see “DIY Ditch Kit,” page 68).

And I recognize that there is much joy to be had in months of planning for a long paddling trip to a dream location. Some- times, that’s just about all that gets me through dreary winter days. But I’m tired of people who don’t want to go paddling unless they’ve been memorizing charts and dehydrating meals for months in ad- vance. We may not all paddle Haida Gwaii, Belize or Patagonia this year, but we can all choose to get out when we can, where we can, with what we have.

Some of my most memorable paddling adventures were spontaneous, low-tech excursions. While working a busy sum- mer season on the north shore of Prince Edward Island, I had an unexpected two days off. Within an hour, I was in a kayak heading for the most remote, unpopu- lated piece of coastline

I could find. In those 48 precious hours I paddled 100 kilometers, explored stunning cliffs and beaches, camped just above the high-water line in a tiny cove, survived on nothing but canned peaches and trail mix, and returned back to work utterly happy, tired and inspired.

Sometimes a spontaneous paddling trip can help us find perspective.

Last fall, with the end of the season looming, some friends and I were com- plaining about how we hadn’t gone camp- ing enough lately. The obvious solution: we tossed gear into trunks, loaded boats onto roofs and carpooled north for a last- minute trip to a favorite island. After a golden sunset, we slept peacefully as the waves pounded the rocks below. When

I returned home Sunday evening—after perhaps only 10 kilometers of paddling—I felt ready to take on the world again.

Anthropologists who study these sorts of things would point out that North American society—fueled by the powerful forces of media and advertising—is infatuated with the pursuit of material satisfaction. We seek to define our identity by our possessions.

A study from the University of British Columbia found that spending our resources on new experiences, rather than more pos- sessions, produces longer-lasting feelings of satisfaction. This is a concept that should be familiar to outdoor enthusiasts—wasn’t the spectacular sunrise more memorable than the tent you watched it from?

Spending our resources on new experiences, rather than more possessions, produces longer-lasting feelings of satisfaction.

New gear does not lead to the perfect trip. Some of my equipment is decades old but it still works safely and reliably. No self-respecting gearhead would give my faded tent a second glance, but it’s bombproof, has spent hundreds of days in the field and invariably keeps me dry and warm. Yes, there are lighter tarps, more powerful stoves and loftier sleeping bags. And yes, there are boats with higher or lower volume, more speed, less weight, better hatches and sexier colors. I’d happily give a home to one or five of them.

There is nothing wrong with good gear. But I worry that by focusing on acquiring the newest, best, lightest, most high-tech gear, we are making outdoor experiences more elusive. Not everyone can afford to shell out hundreds of dollars for a Gore- Tex drysuit or silnylon tent. And most

of us won’t have an incredibly improved experience with a boat that weighs five pounds less or a stove that cooks water half a minute faster.

In some countries, simple, economical outdoor experiences and learning are con- sidered such an integral part of existence that a word—Norwegians call it friluft- sliv—has even been coined to describe this way of life. While the image of North America has its roots in wilderness experi- ence, in reality many people rarely have or take the opportunity to seek out experi- ences in the natural world.

If outdoor adventure sports are per- ceived as elitist, expensive and inacces- sible, even fewer people will get involved and learn to value these experiences. Enter the modern pitfalls of our soci-
ety: sedentary lifestyles, indifference to environmental issues, lack of connection to other people and lack of connection to the inspiring, challenging and beautiful forces of the natural world.

This is where we paddlers can come in as fearless visionaries of a world where getting outside is a way of life—not a privi- lege, quirky hobby or inaccessible dream.

So go ahead, get that carbon fiber paddle you’ve been dreaming about. But don’t throw away your old plastic blade. Give it to your new neighbor who’s never been in a kayak before (and lend him or her your other spare gear), call some friends and go paddling. No excuses.

Charlotte Jacklein paddles with an eclectic mix of new and old gear, whenever and wherever the water beckons.

This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2014 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine and get 25 years of digital magazine archives including our legacy titles: Rapid, Adventure Kayak and Canoeroots.

Skill: Light a One Match Fire

Skills

By

Kaydi Pyette

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June 17, 2014

Photo: Flickr user mathias-erhart / Creative Commons — Skill: Light a One Match Fire

In Jack London’s short story To Build a Fire a greenhorn gold prospector falls through river ice and relizes he must build a fire or perish. He meticulously coaxes a flame from some kindling, but his fate is sealed when melting snow falling from an overhanging spruce bow smothers the flame.

Starting a campfire on a rainy summer night maybe not be a matter of life and death, but try telling that to the cold, wet, hungry mob that’s waiting for dinner. Fear not, with a single match and the following tips you can have a roaring blaze in no time.

Instructions

To avoid a reluctant, smoky fire that needs constant attention, take he extra time to collect good firewood. The biggest mistake is using wood that isn’t dry enough, that is, wood that hasn’t been dead long enough. When woo is dry the bark has already fallen off or can be easily removed…

Continue reading this article in the digital edition of Canoeroots and Family Camping, Early Summer 2007, on our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it on your desktop here.

Clipping Your Wings

Stories

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

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June 17, 2014

Photo: Steve Rogers — Clipping Your Wings

Don’t get me wrong, I love the stuff too. There have been countless days of river running, road tripping, writing and editing Rapid magazine, that I would’ve shot Red Bull into my veins if it weren’t for the perfectly syrupy carbonation that I crave—a flavor as gratifying as the fire it lights in my brain.

But despite the caffeine boost that helps me catch eddies and spliced commas, I know the drink won’t really make me fly and, similarly, I know affixing a camera to my helmet won’t actually make me a hero.

Red Bull and GoPro, with their respective slogans, “Gives You Wings,” and “Be a Hero,” pump millions into marketing that helps push the limits of action sports. They do so by stimulating an unmatched level of stoke, in part by creating high-quality media content that features the extreme end of an already extreme sport. These big brands showcase athletes making the best three seconds of a move most of us shouldn’t try at home.

Sport cameras themselves, along with the accessories that mount them to you or your gear, are causing an accident spike in extreme adventure sports. For example, “the skydiving website Dropzone.com has documented at least 22 accidents, two of them fatal, attributable to the interference of a wearable camera with an essential piece of safety equipment,” Outside magazine reported in February. “Wearable cams have made it easier than ever to chase YouTube stardom—and to thwack yourself in the process.”

In 2012, Green Race god Pat Keller posted a public proclamation that went the whitewater version of viral, circulating the social media community and sparking impressively enlightened discussion for the realm of online comments.

“Fellow Huckers!,” his decree begins, “Allow me a moment to speak to you on a crucial point of the code.”

Keller urged boaters to find a balance between pushing the sport and respecting personal limits.

“I’m not sitting here and preaching that you shouldn’t do dumb things…it’s a big part of how we learn. But know that it is plenty okay to take your time, taking baby steps, to ensure that you’ve got that line.”

Redbull and GoPro’s marketing messages don’t exactly inspire the thoughtful reflection that may be required to judge what’s a good idea and what’s not.

To call out the companies themselves—or their daredevil slogans—would be too easy. They’re just going about their business of selling cola and cameras.

It’s our job to not take their marketing lines too literally, to avoid being swept up in the hype to the point that it affects our judgment. It’s in the hands of every weekend warrior, wannabe world-class, and even pro paddler to avoid that gut-ignoring leap that breaks Keller’s code.

Keller didn’t win the Green Race three times by hucking Gorilla on a caffeine- and fame-fueled whim.

“If you think, ‘it’ll be ok—I’ll probably make it,’ you set yourself up for a possible fail that could put your life, and especially those around you, in grave danger,” he wrote.

It took baby steps to be Pat Keller which, if filmed and set to a Dubstep track, would probably seem pretty lame. “Hard moves on easy whitewater. That is the path.”

This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2014 issue of Rapid Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

Two Solitudes

Stories

By

Tory Bowman

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June 16, 2014

Photo: Flickr user mossaiq / Creative Commons — couple in canoe

Tom and I went on our first canoe trip together last summer. We’d ben engaged for a while, but we had never pushed off for a long trip. Both of us are paddlers, so we had nothing short of a lifetime of shared happiness—or misery—on the line.

It took us a while to agree on a plan. He wanted to paddle the Nahanni or race in the Yukon River Quest. I wanted to disappear for a few weeks in Temagami, Kipawa or Quetico. We settled on a two-week lake trip in Quetico Provincial Park so Tom could at least check off an area he hadn’t been to before. I felt a twinge of alarm when I loaded the paddlers in the car; his gleaming bent-shaft racing paddle, mine a battered old Lolk.

As we pulled away it was like paddling with a machine. Tom hauled gallons of water with each fierce stroke. He paddled so fast either had to cut my sterling stroke to a quick draw or pry to ignore his pace completely. I didn’t know any camp songs fast enough to match his rhythm. I tucked my head down and dreaded the next 14 days…

Continue reading this article in the digital edition of Canoeroots and Family Camping, Early Summer 2007, on our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it on your desktop here.

Video: The Easiest Rescue Re-Entry

Skills

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

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June 13, 2014

Image: Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown — Video: The Easiest Rescue Re-Entry

Want to know the fastest, easiest way to get back in your boat after a capsize? BCU kayak coach Gordon Brown demonstrates the heel hook re-entry “The heel hook takes advantage of the strength in your larger leg muscles” explains Brown. “It’s a fundamental rescue move, worth practicing until it’s second nature.” Watch the video to learn how it’s done.

Get more kayak instruction films at Sea Kayak with Gordon Brown. DVDs and downloads here.

Skill Video: How To Tie A Kayak To Your Car

Skills

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

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June 12, 2014

Photo: Screen Capture — Screenshot image of a red kayak being tied down to the roof of a car.

Don’t let your boat go airborne. Here’s a technique to safely secure a kayak to your roof.

Skills: Basic Solo Strokes

Skills

By

Kaydi Pyette

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June 10, 2014

This short film from canoeist Bill Mason presented by the National Film Board of Canada illustrates the joy and poetry of paddling solo. All basic strokes used to control the canoe are rendered with perfect clarity through animated lines.

Watch below!

Path of the Paddle: Solo Basic by Bill Mason, National Film Board of Canada

Crazy Kayak Surfing

Videos

By

Paddling Magazine Staff

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June 10, 2014

Tsunami Rangers

Sit back and enjoy this 5-minute salute to the pioneers of rock garden surfing, the Tsunami Rangers. This short film is excerpted from the Tsunami Rangers Greatest Hits DVD. Copyright Tsunami Rangers 2011.

Get the whole film and loads more kayak action at tsunamirangers.com

Worth The Risk

By

Jeff Jackson

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June 10, 2014

“Because it’s there,” has been one of the most famous phrases in adventure sports since George Mallory’s 1923 justification for attempting the as-yet unclimbed Mount Everest.

Unfortunately for us outdoor types, this explanation is much more shallow than it is profound. Paddlers and climbers alike deal with a public perception that we are reckless risk takers. Mallory’s words contribute to us being written off as irresponsible and totally lacking in reflection.

I am dog paddling my way through a PhD—something I don’t recommend for a middle-aged person hoping to maintain a life—and my field of study is the psychology of motivation. One consistent belief in this area of research is that people cannot be trusted to explain why they do the things they do. Motivation is complex and there is no one reason for anything we do, let alone the highly biased reasons we provide to validate our actions.

In October,74-year-old French mountaineer Bernard Amy gave a speech at the Italian Academic Alpine Club that articulated what many before him have attempted and failed. He included all mountain sports, to which we paddlers belong, when he spoke of the social contract that allows each of us the freedom to do what we want as long as our actions are acceptable to society.

A social contract is guided by nebulous standards of what is, and what is not, socially acceptable. So long as we live up to those standards, we have permission to do what we choose.

Adventure activities live on the border of such acceptance because people who don’t do them have a hard time understanding why we’d want to explore a remote river or throw ourselves off a waterfall.

“We must explain what the mountains give us,” he said. “We must not try to explain why we go to the mountains but what we find there.”

Amy is helping to change the conversation. He proposed that in order for risky activities to be accepted we should stop trying to explain why we do them, and instead focus on what we learn from them.

“We must explain what the mountains give us,” he said. “We must not try to explain why we go to the mountains but what we find there.” In other words, our own personal reasons for paddling may not justify the risk, but its outcomes may.

Amy said adventure sports build courage through reasoned risk-taking and grow responsibility and initiative in its participants. They require us to be both independent and able to work cooperatively in teams. They build confidence and character.

When you look at it this way, whitewater paddling is not only acceptable but important. It’s a vehicle to provide skills and abilities widely recognized as lacking in today’s society.

Despite our untrustworthy understanding of our own motivations, Amy is helping to renew the social contract by pushing us to recognize the valuable outcomes of our sport. Whitewater paddling is slowly moving in from the fringes of social acceptance. You now see whitewater boats on the roof racks of cars in mainstream advertising, and more people than ever are giving it a try, according to the Outdoor Industry Association’s 2013 Participation Report.

Even if we can’t always explain it, we know there’s a whole lot more to running a river than because it’s there.

This article first appeared in the Early Summer 2014 issue of Rapid Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.