In Rapid Media’s 2014 Paddling Buyer’s Guide, there’s no shortage of choice. Short boats, long boats, folding and inflatable boats, standup boards for idling, surfing, racing and rapid shooting—and all made from a cornucopia of space-age materials and presented in every shape and color imaginable.

What’s nothing short of amazing is that with the wide-ranging preferences and predilections of the current paddlesports marketplace, you can still buy a canvas-covered wooden canoe essentially unchanged in more than a century of service. Yes, you too can have a premium-grade, 16-foot Old Town OTCA for $7,599.99. Fiberglass skin is $200 extra, plus tax and shipping.

Back in 1925, an OTCA sold for about $50. The exact price depended on a variety of options, including length, color, finish, sponsons, outside stems, floor racks, canoe seats, middle thwart, long decks, half ribs and sailing accouterments.

Adjusting the 88-year-old price tag in today’s dollars using the consumer price index, that boat would be $663.50. A tremendous deal and a far cry from what is now demanded for a fancy throwback double-ender. In today’s market, it’s the labor costs that push the price through the roof. Nevertheless, the OTCA and others of its ilk have survived.

And while I find it harder to imagine a buyer in the year 2100 flipping through some e-catalogue, telepathically delivered of course, and picking out a standup paddleboard that’s essentially unchanged since 2014, I can envision the venerable wood and canvas canoe still quietly plying the waters.

Regardless of manufacturer, length, material, weight, style, history or price, the essence of self-propelled recreation persists and is as relevant today as it was when the whole concept of leisure came along as a happy consequence of the industrial revolution. Canoes, kayaks, boards—hell, even improvised craft like Huck Finn’s raft—still offer their paddlers and polers a chance to get on the water, to connect to a river or shoreline and to participate in an activity that is as old as North America itself.

In 1925, the average life expectancy for men was 57.6 years and for women 60.6 years. Today, we can expect to live 20 years longer and many of us choose to spend it immersed in the happiness found in the rhythm and camaraderie of silent craft.

Looking back at some of the old canoe manufacturers’ catalogues, the range of products on offer is much narrower and the options seem a bit antiquated, however some of the slogans are as apt now as they were back then. In 1919, for example, the Old Town Canoe Company catalogue reflected on the post-WWI era, showing an image of a soldier advancing with bayonet mounted against a montage of paddle, pack, canoe and blanket. The slogan, referring to the Allies victory in WWI, says, “Outdoor life did it,” meaning that the strength of mind, body and spirit of a young person heading into conflict was shaped by the paddling experience.

In 1920 and 1921, the bristle of that sentiment was softened to “Old Town Canoes for outdoor vigor.” And, in 1922, my favorite, beneath a happy couple on the water in a handsome canvas-covered canoe, the slogan reads, “Waterways for pleasure days.”

More than ninety years later and the sentiment is equally as true. Happy shopping.

This article first appeared in Rapid Media’s 2014 Paddling Buyer’s Guide. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it on your desktop here.

To the uninitiated, paddling seems like a young person’s sport. Adventures by canoe and kayak, complete with portages, open water crossings and especially whitewater, can seem best enjoyed by young bucks. I recently read an article in Rapid titled, “Paddle Til You’re Fifty”. While the mate­rial of the piece actually encouraged paddlers to continue well into their golden years, the title stuck in my craw. Not only did it imply I was past my best-before date, but most of the paddlers I know are exceptions to that watery ceiling. Am I part of a deluded co­hort, paddling my way over the edge of mortality?

I have the great fortune to offer paddling expeditions on twenty rivers across the north, from Alaska to Nunavut, all of which are life list-worthy destinations. Most people are surprised to learn the average age of our guests is 57. Of course, this means many of the clients are older than 57—the oldest was 84. In fact, Genera­tion X and Y are noticeably absent from northern waterways, on both guided and self-guided expeditions.

Even while our own stats show that more paddlers take on big trips after they hit the 50-year milestone, these demographics fly in the face of research by the Outdoor Industry Association. The OIA’s 2013 Outdoor Participation Report shows that outdoor recreation for the average American begins a slow and steady decline starting at the age of 40. The population segment where outdoor activity is growing the fastest is in males between the ages of 13 to 17—unfor­tunately, they can’t afford northern river trips, nor the sleek refine­ments that increase the longevity of the sport for Boomers.

Indeed, Boomers and Zoomers are fully capable of enjoying the paddling world, whether in canoes, rafts or kayaks. For some, it’s not until they’re older that they feel confident in the skills required to embark on their dream destinations. Their outdoor experience, techniques and risk management abilities acquired over 50 years far make up for the bull-headed power of a 20-something.

Ultimately, economics play a big part in why there’s more grey hair on northern rivers. Being over the hill often means more disposable income, which comes with increased opportunity to travel and access to better equipment. When you factor in the skilled guides, great food and even better wine that paddling tourism offers, what’s not attractive to a golden-aged adventurous spirit.

Neil Hartling is owner of Nahanni River Adventures and Cana­dian River Expeditions, an author and Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society. He’s 52 and sees no end in sight to his paddling career. www.nahanni.com.

This editorial originally appeared in the 2014 Paddling Buyer’s Guide. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it on your desktop here. 

The most recent outdoor activity participation study results are in. Cycling is huge. Trail running is still growing. On the water, standup paddleboarding is way up. Kayak fishing is really catch­ing on. Why?

These grab-and-go activities fit conveniently into busy lives. It’s easy to grab a road bike or lace up runners and be back before din­ner. Paddleboards require only a paddle and PFD. Fishing kayaks launch just about anywhere. But adventures like whitewater, ca­noeing and kayaking that have traditionally required more than a couple hours of commitment are sliding down our to-do lists.

I’ve written over the years in Rapid about the pros and cons of urban whitewater parks. I’ve compared them to climbing walls and foretold the slow death of real adventure. Now, I see that climbing walls and whitewater parks aren’t killing us. We are killing ourselves.

Our leisure habits are changing and the smaller windows of time we have to play outside must fit between school, overtime, traffic and daycare drops. Urban whitewater parks remove barri­ers, making a surf session as easy as a game of squash.

Access however isn’t a barrier for canoeing and kayaking. There is flatwater almost everywhere. The problem is that our dearly beloved tripping canoes and expedition sea kayaks aren’t exactly grab-and-go in today’s world.

Bill Kueper of Wenonah Canoe first tipped me off to this new way of thinking during a round table discussion about the state of canoeing in America.

“For years we’ve been selling people their once-a-year canoes and kayaks, the ones they take on annual trips to the Boundary Waters or the San Juan Islands,” he said. “Instead, we should be selling them boats that perform best for the water they can paddle most often.”

Bill calls these Tuesday night boats—the ones we can most easily enjoy every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, or whenever there’s a few hours to escape.

“But my husband and I already have our canoe,” protested one instructor. Why, I asked her, should paddling be any different from other outdoor activities? Why shouldn’t we have more than one canoe or kayak?

Last fall, my wife and I got back into mountain biking. To enjoy our precious time together, I bought a new mountain bike. Now, on Wednesday nights we book a babysitter and join a community ride. We’ve made new friends and tailgate in the parking lot after­ward. It’s fun, social and it’s easy.

In only 13 months, I’ve purchased three new bikes—all of which, for the record, cost more than any of my canoes or kayaks. I evolved from a born-again mountain biker to a guy who rides bikes—all kinds of bikes. Different bikes allow me to ride more often. Yes, I could have ridden my trail bike on the road and off big jumps, but it would have sucked.

I believe the same is true for paddling. If I’m going to get out more, it has to be easy. Otherwise I’ll spend my leisure time doing other things, or worse, nothing at all.

The river is a short walk from my office. For years I stood at my desk talking on the phone and looking out the window, dreaming about paddling at lunchtime. Why hadn’t I gone? Bill nailed it. I didn’t have my Tuesday night boat. Nothing says miserable lunch break fitness paddle more than a 70-pound Royalex Prospector. I needed my grab-and-go boat.

Increasing participation in paddling is simple. Here, in our 2014 Paddling Buyer’s Guide, you’ll find 369 canoes, kayaks and paddleboards. Buy the one, or ones, that best suit your local rock garden, lake, river, park, pond or swimming pool. Then paddle the hell out of them. No excuses.

Scott MacGregor is the founder and publisher of Rapid Media. He is the proud owner of a new 32-pound Wenonah Advantage solo racing canoe and a bent shaft carbon paddle. He won’t be taking any more calls between noon and one.

This editorial originally appeared in the 2014 Paddling Buyer’s Guide. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it on your desktop here. 

Portage.

How is it that I can travel 2,000 miles from my home river to Vernal, Utah, be on a river I’ve never paddled before, with complete strangers, and hear our guide Charlie—a man 19 years younger than myself—reply “Fluffy Bun­ny” when a high-tech worker from San Francisco asks the name of the next big rapid? Sorry Charlie, that’s my line. Or at least I thought it was.

I’d joined a commercial rafting trip on the Green River’s Gates of Lodore. I was there to write and film a story for Rapid and Rapid Media TV (Easy Green, Spring 2012). I’d never paddled in the Southwest but I could have given the safety talk verbatim, jokes included. It was the same guide talk I’d given clients a hundred times when I was Char­lie’s age. It was the same talk cameraman Dan Caldwell gave on the Kicking Horse and Illecillewaet rivers in British Columbia. How does this happen?

Throughout the Southwest, a hunch-backed, longhaired, flute-playing figure is painted or carved into boulders and rock walls. Kokopelli is per­haps the most famous of all ancient rock art; you’ve probably seen him on T-shirts and bumper stickers. Legend says that in his sack he carries seeds and songs from town to town. He is credited with the spread of agricultural technology, teaching villagers how to plant and grow corn. Kokopelli was also believed to be a fertility god, prankster, healer and storyteller. He could have been a raft guide and paddler.

Like Kokopelli, when we travel to rivers, we bring the changing of winter to spring. We bring the melting of snow and the rain. We play jokes. We help and heal those sick with smog and congestion. Some say Kokopelli was capable of detaching his penis and sending it down the river to have his way with the innocent young maidens who were bathing in the stream. I don’t know about that, but raft guides have been the source of many hu­man conceptions—we won’t mention names. And wrapped inside our large duffels among our paddles, helmets and gear, we bring our own stories and traditions from river cultures far away.

Long before paddlers were friends on Facebook, we had our ways of sharing information and passing on traditions. We had guidebooks and adventure stories. We had club newsletters, journals and magazines. We had bars, take-outs and tailgates. And we had teachers, instructors and mentors.

Long-time raft guides like Rapid columnist Jeff Jackson bounced back and forth between guiding in the Ottawa Valley and working for NOLS on rivers in the Southwest. Jeff was trained by the best river managers and now, in a senior leadership and mentoring role, he passes all of what he has learned down to the next generation—the third generation.

Get a few dozen or so dirtbag guides like Jeff with international airfares and, sure as Kokopelli’s hunched back, there will be guides on the Sun Kosi, Zambezi and Pacuare telling their guests as they approach the big rapids, “This one’s called Fluffy Bunny.”

Scott MacGregor is the founder and publisher of Rapid.

This editorial originally appeared in Rapid, Early Summer 2012. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read the rest here.