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Expert Canoeing Advice: How To Do The J-Stroke

Whether paddling your canoe tandem or solo, there is a universally necessary, yet elusive goal we all set out to accomplish: going in a straight line. The reason this seemingly simple task is so difficult is because as we paddle on one side, the strokes have a tendency to turn the canoe toward the other.

Spinning in circles is frustrating, not to mention a counterproductive way to cover water. When learning how to canoe, people often try to avoid the issue by falling back on switching the paddle from side to side in order to maintain control, but this is a tiring and inefficient method, requiring constant back and forth. Instead, the key to gaining control is learning how to do an essential canoe stroke, the J-stroke.

The J-stroke is so named because the paddle, as it moves through the water, traces the shape of the letter J. What makes the stroke invaluable to traveling straight is its combination of two parts into a fluid motion.

The first part is the forward propulsion, accomplished by your standard forward stroke. The second is corrective. During the corrective part, the paddle provides resistance to veer the bow back toward the side you’re paddling on without breaking the forward momentum gained during propulsion. It sounds simple, and, it is straightforward, however, the paddle angle and wrist movement needed to accomplish an effective J-stroke can feel awkward at first.

To get tips from an expert who spends his days making headway across breezy lakes and teaching others the ropes, we joined canoe instructor and owner of Smoothwater Outfitters Francis Boyes on the water. The details Boyes shares here will help with your J-stroke so you can take control and enjoy time spent in your canoe.

How to do the J-stroke

Canoe instructor Francis Boyes demonstrates the start to the J-stroke by initiating a forward stroke.
Canoe instructor Francis Boyes demonstrates the start to the J-stroke by initiating a forward stroke.
  1. Begin with a forward stroke. To take a proper forward stroke, you want to rotate your torso to reach forward toward the bow, plant the paddle blade in the water, then, again using your core for power, pull yourself to the paddle blade. This is the part of the stroke that will propel you forward.
The defining move of the J-stroke is transitioning from the forward stroke to the corrective phase by turning your top thumb downward.
The defining movement of the J-stroke is transitioning from the forward stroke to the corrective phase by turning your top thumb downward.
  1. As the blade approaches your hip, you transition into the defining motion of the J-stroke. Turn the powerface of the paddle away from the canoe by bending your wrist so that the thumb of your upper hand points downward.
Blade angle is key to having the resistance needed to correct the direction of the canoe.
Blade angle is key to having the resistance needed to correct the direction of the canoe.
  1. The paddle blade pauses in the water at an angle to the canoe. The water will push on the powerface and move the stern of the canoe away from the side that you are paddling on—correcting the direction of the canoe without breaking your forward momentum. The greater the angle you use (and resistance on your blade) the stronger the corrective force.
  2. Slice the blade from the water to recover for your next stroke.

Common errors paddlers make on the J-stroke

According to Boyes, there are several common errors that novice paddlers make when learning the J-stroke.

  • The first error is extending the forward part of the stroke too far. If you do this, then by the time you turn the paddle into its rudder position, much of the blade may be out of the water.
Notice the thumb at the top hand is rotated downward so that the paddle blade is vertical.
Notice the thumb at the top hand is rotated downward so that the paddle blade is vertical.
  • The second common error is not turning the powerface of the paddle far enough. You need to bend or rotate your wrist over, so that the blade of the paddle moves into a vertical position in the water. You may need to exaggerate the bending of your wrist over further than feels necessary at first in order to reach the vertical position needed and building your muscle memory to do so.
If the paddle blade is left running parallel with the canoe, it will not create the resistance needed to correct the boat's course with a J-stroke.
If the blade is left running parallel with the canoe, it will not create the resistance needed to correct the boat’s course.
  • The third error is not ending the stroke with your paddle at enough of an angle to the canoe. “If your paddle blade ends up parallel to your canoe, it does not offer enough resistance to the water,” Boyes explains. The resistance of the water on the paddle blade is what swings the canoe so your bow heads back in the right direction following the forward stroke. You want a paddle angle that provides enough resistance to accomplish this.

More tips for an effective J-stroke

  • If you are paddling tandem in a canoe, the stern paddler performs the J-stroke.
Canoe instructor Francis Boyes says go ahead and use that gunwale to make those strokes less work.
Canoe instructor Francis Boyes says go ahead and use that gunwale to make those strokes less work.
  • Some canoeing purists will tell you that you should never allow the shaft of the paddle to come into contact with the gunwale of the canoe. “This is an issue of style, not function,” says Boyes. According to Boyes, allowing the shaft of the paddle to contact the gunwale, increases efficiency. When you allow the paddle shaft to contact the gunwale, the force of the water on the paddle blade is transferred directly to the canoe. Your lower arm acts as a guide only and does not tire.
  • One final tip from Boyes, don’t grip the shaft of your paddle tightly with your lower hand. Hold it gently. This allows the paddle to rotate more freely as you transition into and out of the correctional phase of the J-stroke. This creates a more relaxing and fluid motion to your J-strokes.
Two people paddling a canoe on a lake
One of the easiest strokes you can learn, that will make the biggest difference. | Photo by: Destination Ontario

A few more advanced strokes

The J-stroke is a foundational canoe stroke, but it is really just splashing the surface depth of canoe skills. Once you’ve gotten the hang of it, give some of these stylish and helpful strokes a try.

Goon stroke

The goon stroke is similar to the J-stroke. A key difference is that instead of turning the thumb downward to transition into the correction phase, the thumb goes upward, and the forward stroke transitions to the stern for what is known as a pry. The goon stroke is usually easier on the wrist if the J presents issues for you. It is also popular in whitewater canoeing because it can be a quick, powerful stroke, and is easier to exit the blade from turbulent currents. Why then do most prefer the J over the goon on lakes and slow-moving water? The J requires less physical energy and better maintains the canoe’s momentum.

Cross-forward stroke

With a similar goal as the J-stroke, solo canoeists often use the cross-forward stroke to keep the canoe going straight as they build momentum.

C-stroke

Getting started from a dead stop is often one of the trickiest parts, especially when solo canoeing. This is a job for the C-stroke.

Silent stroke

For a J-stroke that has both an elegant look and allows you to paddle while hardly making a sound, learn the silent stroke. The big difference between the J and the silent stroke is the recovery. The silent stroke never leaves the water, and instead, the canoeist smoothly slices the paddle blade back to the bow for their next stroke.


One of the easiest strokes you can learn, that will make the biggest difference. | Feature photo: Destination Ontario

 

How Social Media Is Redefining—And Maybe Undermining—Wilderness Adventure

woman smiles at her phone held on a selfie stick while portaging a canoe
Don't forget to like, comment and subscribe at paddlingmag.com. | Feature photo: Geoff Whitlock

It used to be that to be an expert—what we now call an influencer—you had to do something extraordinary: paddle around a continent, complete the first descent of some faraway river, endure rigorous training, write a classic book or invent a timeless boat design.

But increasingly, the criteria for being an expert is to have an impressive social media following, which is really just a measure of cleverness with a camera, algorithms and personal branding. Sure, you could argue famous paddlers of the past were the influencers of their day, similar to their modern counterparts except in the medium through which they promoted their exploits. But there are some important differences.

How social media is redefining—and maybe undermining—wilderness adventure

Foremost, today’s outdoor influencers operate squarely in the attention economy, with advertising piggybacking on all their content, where eyeballs translate into sales of consumer products. There is something paradoxical about this commodification of the wilderness experience, which is, in its essence, anti-materialistic.

One of the biggest outdoor influencers is Luke Nichols, a former traffic attorney from Virginia who runs the Outdoor Boys YouTube channel. A typical post, “Can I Survive Alaskan Winter with No Sleeping Bag, No Tent & No Tarp?” has 12 million views. Forty-one million people watched his “5 Days Fishing & Camping in Swamp.” The internet estimates with his nearly nine million subscribers and 1.5 billion total views on YouTube, Nichols’ annual earnings are in the multimillions. Enough to afford a tent and a sleeping bag.

woman smiles at her phone held on a selfie stick while portaging a canoe
Don’t forget to like, comment and subscribe at paddlingmag.com. | Feature photo: Geoff Whitlock

His videos of roughing it with as little equipment as possible aren’t something you’d expect would sell a lot of products. But hitting play launches ads for Old Spice deodorant, Febreze air freshener and Airbnb. What more could you want after five days in a swamp? Google knows most people who watch this stuff are more likely to book a vacation rental where they can smell good on a comfy mattress than camp out themselves.

Don’t sell your soul

Even when the intentions start pure, content is coopted by the market. The old-time explorers sold all kinds of gear. The alpinist Reinhold Messner turned his high altitude exploits into such a fortune he now resides in a restored Italian medieval castle with his own museum. Bill Mason’s legacy is no doubt boosting the sales of Prospector canoes to this day. But for the most part, these old-schoolers’ books, films and in-person lectures were the product. The audience paid for them directly, and their value was intrinsic, not measured by how well they could churn other people’s widgets. Nowadays, the content you get for free is just the shiny thing Alphabet Inc. uses in its bait-and-switch gambit. You thought you were learning about the wilderness, but actually, you’re being pitched air freshener. And if you want to glow in your Instagram posts like those burly outdoorsfolk, better use this discount code for Athletic Greens.

The omnipresence of advertising brings the authenticity of expert content into question. What creator does not fall into the trap of using real-time analytics to determine what garners views and crafts their content accordingly?

Every action is an activation, all communication is content, and there is nothing that can’t be monetized.

When my favorite podcaster first ventured into advertising, I was all ears. “This guy needs to make a buck to produce this great content,” I thought. But as his channel blew up and I watched his personal favorite mattress, multivitamin and medication app rotate from one set of companies to their direct competitors over the seasons, I realized this was just capitalism in another form.

Another problem with outdoor influencers is the content is often just plain dull. Most YouTube canoe tripping footage is drier than your grandmother’s vacation slideshow. A video of a cheese sandwich grilling over a camp stove is less interesting than watching paint dry. And as much as the internet has the aforementioned obsession with people camping out without sleeping bags, I am too restless to get outdoors myself to sit through 30 minutes of a bearded guy in a stick shelter talking to himself about how he didn’t have the greatest sleep and he sure would have been a lot more comfortable if he’d had a few wool blankets. I hear enough of this sort of thing from my wife every morning. It’s a wonder millions watch this dreck; anyone handwringing about our decaying attention spans need look no further for solace.

Social media has only accelerated the exhausting trend by which marketing has become the water we all swim in. This transformation has turned being into branding. Every action is an activation, all communication is content, and there is nothing that can’t be monetized. Its influence has crept into the last frontier, my sanctuary, the wilderness.

The joy of being present

For all my complaints, I harbor no ill will toward influencers. Mostly, I feel sorry for those chained to the content sweatshop, who can’t experience a moment in the wilderness without a camera on a gimbal and a drone buzzing overhead, who must make multiple trips past every rapid—once to film it, once to retrieve the camera, and again and again for editing. For these folks who have, or aspire to have, large and monetized followings, creating content is always central, and the value of the experience is only fully realized once it’s been posted, liked and shared. The canoe trip becomes like one of those concerts people only see through their phones—so intent to prove to others they were there, for all practical purposes, they aren’t really there at all. The influencers aren’t the people I want to hear from. I’m curious about the non-self-promoters, those whose quiet voices are drowned out by the content firehose, and I don’t know where to find them anymore.

There was once a concept proposed, mostly as a thought experiment, called rescue-free wilderness. The idea was the only way to have a true wilderness experience was to go someplace where nobody would come to your aid. Our era calls for something different: content-creation-free wilderness, an embargoed place where the influencers would never want to go because you’re not allowed to document it electronically. Contrary to the adage take only pictures, the only way to record it would be through memory. The only way to see it, go there yourself.

Contrarian Tim Shuff is a writer, firefighter and former editor of Adventure Kayak magazine.

Cover of the Summer 2024 issue of Paddling Magazine, Issue 72This article was first published in Issue 72 of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

Don’t forget to like, comment and subscribe at paddlingmag.com. | Feature photo: Geoff Whitlock

 

First Look: AIRE Hot Potato (Video)

Based in Meridian, Idaho, AIRE rafts is launching a new, beefier inflatable whitewater playboat in 2025: the Hot Potato. The Hot Potato comes after the Tributary SPUD and Tater inflatable kayaks, with similar features to both but built tougher to cater to the folks using the kayaks for whitewater.

The AIRE SPUD was a youth inflatable turned whitewater playboat: enter the AIRE Hot Potato

“We wanted to stay within the potato family of names since this [the Hot Potato] is based on the SPUD specs,” shared Abigail Taylor from AIRE rafts. “It’s going to be like our other AIRE kayaks with a ten-year no-fault warranty, so you can put this thing through the trenches and we will fix it for you.”

Hot potato in Teal
The AIRE Hot Potato in Teal. Image: AIRE

The AIRE Tributary SPUD was originally made for children but caught on as an inflatable whitewater play boat. Paddlers can roll the SPUD and have tackled class IV drops. AIRE decided to make a tougher, beefier model in the Hot Potato to address the needs of the folks using the SPUD for whitewater.

Overall, the AIRE Hot Potato is a really compelling compromise for folks looking to tackle white water kayaking who aren’t necessarily comfortable in an enclosed whitewater kayak. Additionally, the Hot Potato comes with enhanced stability, increased durability and increased maneuverability according to AIRE.

The Hot Potato is available in red, orange, yellow, green, blue and teal. Thigh straps for rolling can be purchased as an add on.

 

Squirt Boating: The Wettest Form of Kayaking (Video)

To the one person in our reader survey who asked for more squirt boating content, this one is for you.

Squirt boating: drowning, but for fun

Squirt boating is one of the most mysterious subcultures of kayaking, not only because it saw its peak in the early 90s and has a small, devoted following but also because this type of whitewater kayaking happens largely underwater.

In a thin whitewater kayak with very little buoyancy and hand paddles on the hands in lieu of a traditional paddle, the purpose of squirt boating is to submerge oneself and ride underwater waves and currents. For many people, the idea of kayaking beneath the water holds very little appeal— in fact, for many buoyancy is considered chief among desirable qualities in a kayak.

@murped

#kayak #extremesports #watersport #rapids

♬ original sound – Murped

“The only reason I even know about squirt boating is because I was on a rafting trip and after we went over a set of rapids we saw this squirter pop up right behind our boat,” shared Mark Murphy while narrating a viral video on squirt boating. The comments on the viral video are rife with quips about how the sport is glorified drowning or “kayaking with less breathing”. Which speaks to one of the challenges of the sport: it’s obscure and not just because it happens underwater.

Squirt boating is incredibly niche, with a small, dedicated community. According to the NRS film The Mystery, in the nineties there were likely only a couple thousand squirt boaters in the states, while today there’s likely less than two hundred.

Squirt boating, niche and nerdy paddling subculture, and humility

The squirt boating subculture is decidedly nerdy in the way of “Tevas with socks and Dave Matthews Band kinda look”, an interviewee explained in the The Mystery, citing sparkles on boats and a vibe that rode the line between dorky and very cool as the tone of the squirt boaters of the nineties.

Squirt Boating, or whitewater kayaking on underwater currents
Squirt boating, or whitewater kayaking underwater comments. Feature Image: The Mystery by NRS | YouTube

In the 1991 brothers Jim and Jeff Snyder’s instructional film Certain Squirting is as bright with the neon colors and the coolest paddling jackets ever seen as it is filled with detailed instructions. The Snyder brothers are credited with popularizing and founding squirt boating, and Jim is responsible for the design of most of the squirt boats in existence.

In the Summer 2008 issue of Rapid Magazine, Jeff Jackson broke down the allure of squirt boating and Jim Snyder’s The Squirt Book.

“The tight-fitting, custom-built, surfboard-like kayaks were designed for neutral buoyancy—half way between floating and sinking—and to tap into underwater currents,” he explained, adding that squirt boating is about humility, about literally going with the flow, about listening to the river.

“Snyder’s book, while setting the stage for much greater things in kayaking, speaks louder now as a comment on putting the river, current and universe first. It stands in contrast to the bounce and bravado in today’s kayaking,” Jackson added.

Ultimately, squirt boating is about getting up close and personal with the river, about challenging yourself on and in the rapids in a way that isn’t flash– oftentimes it isn’t even visible. As the nineties trends like film photography and vintage bright windbreakers make their way back into the spotlight, maybe there’s a place for squirt boating in the mainstream too.

 

Q&A With Charlie Walbridge On 30 Years Of River Rescues

Charlie Walbridge, author of Whitewater Rescues, stands and points in a knee-deep river with rescue gear and paddle
Charlie Walbridge has been the keeper of the American Whitewater Accident Database for 30 years. The lessons learned and practices developed from the data have saved countless lives. | Feature photo: Courtesy Charlie Walbridge

No name is as synonymous with river rescue as Charlie Walbridge. Walbridge was a driving force in kayak and canoe instruction at its dawn in the 1970s. He co-created the swiftwater rescue clinic and literally wrote the book on it.

Charlie Walbridge, author of Whitewater Rescues, stands and points in a knee-deep river with rescue gear and paddle
Charlie Walbridge has been the keeper of the American Whitewater Accident Database for 30 years. The lessons learned and practices developed from the data have saved countless lives. | Feature photo: Courtesy Charlie Walbridge

For three decades, Walbridge has also volunteered as the chronicler of American Whitewater’s Accident Database, an indispensable trove of incidents providing empirical knowledge to the river-running community. The database holds more than 3,000 accounts. The majority have unfortunate endings in a sport we pursue to live life to the fullest. However, because of Walbridge’s decades dedicated to sharing insights from the data, an incalculable number of paddlers’ lives have also been saved.

These are the stories Walbridge shares in his new book, Whitewater Rescues: True Stories of Survival, Bravery, and Quick Thinking.

Q&A with Charlie Walbridge on 30 years of river rescues

When was the first swiftwater rescue you were involved with?

In 1975 at an icebreaker slalom. There was a guy caught underwater. I was coming down the course and I pulled over and we ran downstream. Nobody knew what to do. It was a fatality. I was really upset and asking people questions. I found out the guy had been trying to stand up when he washed over a ledge, and his foot got caught under a rock. I wrote the accident report and it was published in several canoe club journals. I got a lot of feedback from people saying something similar had happened on their river. It turned out to be the first description of a foot entrapment.

cover of Whitewater Rescues by Charlie Walbridge

Why did you decide to write this new book, Whitewater Rescues?

Writing about fatal accidents, it’s really useful to learn as much as we can. The whole purpose of what I do is to get people talking. But it’s pretty depressing. We also get near-miss reports and they haven’t really been the focus before. It took me a while to realize what we had. I was going through every near miss over the last 45 years and realized there’s good stuff there, too good just to sit in the database. These are amazing stories, and they’re not depressing. They’re stories of ingenuity, courage and persistence.

Where are the biggest takeaways you’ve seen over the years in river running safety?

We are much more knowledgeable about risks. Second, are the techniques swiftwater rescue has developed for dealing with those risks. For instance, in that first rescue I was present for, now, there would undoubtedly be people there who know how a stabilization line or a cinch works, and they would’ve made a real effort to get the guy out quickly.

Who eventually carries on your legacy in accident reporting?

I don’t think it’s going to be easy to find a volunteer to do what I’ve been doing. I suspect that for this to be successful, it’s going to have to be a staff position. When I’m done, I’m done. I have no timeframe in mind. I enjoy it. I plan to keep doing it, but I’m 75 years old and life moves on.

What’s kept you enjoying paddling all these decades while carrying a burden like the one you have for the whitewater community?

Well, it’s not a burden. When I hear about something, I want to find out what happened, like any other reporter. I talk to people, get the story and put it out there in the words of the people who were there. It’s fascinating and rewarding. And when I’m out on the river, I’m not thinking about that sort of thing. I’m just out with my buddies.

Rivers are incredibly beautiful. But it’s the people. When I think about the stories I tell, they’re often not about the rivers. They’re about people and the things we did together.

Cover of Issue 72 of Paddling MagazineThis article was first published in Issue 72 of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

Charlie Walbridge has been the keeper of the American Whitewater Accident Database for 30 years. The lessons learned and practices developed from the data have saved countless lives. | Feature photo: Courtesy Charlie Walbridge

 

REI Closes Experiences Business, Laying Off 400+ Employees

Sea kayaking trips in the San Juan Islands cancelled in wake of REI closing Experiences business
In the wake of REI ending its Experiences business, 29 paddling trips have ben cancelled for 2025 including San Juan Islands sea kayaking trips. Feature Image courtesy Maddy Marquardt

On January 8, 2025, REI president and CEO Eric Artz announced that REI would end its Experiences business. The Experiences business has been around for 40 years, and includes adventure travel, day tours, and classes.

Headquartered near Seattle, Washington, REI is the United States’ largest consumer co-op with 24 million members, specializing in outdoor and camping gear.

Over 400 employees, 180 full-time employees and 248 part-time guides’ jobs were eliminated.

REI ends Experiences business after 40 years, with 26 paddling trip options cut

“Earlier this morning we shared with our Experiences team that after a thorough review and careful consideration, I have made the difficult decision to exit the Experiences business altogether, effective this week,” Artz wrote in the January 8 email to staff. Artz went on to explain that the program was not profitable and the co-op plans to return focus to “sustainable, profitable growth.”

The Experiences business has been a part of REI for over 40 years, providing guided adventure travel trips in various disciplines, including paddling, day trips, and classes. Final trips will be running mid-January, with all trips departing on or after January 15 cancelled.

In total, 19 kayaking, two canoe and five rafting trips options were cut in 2025 as well as a number of other climbing, backpacking, and multi-discipline guided outdoor trips and Wilderness First Aid and Wilderness First Responder courses. While some of these trips were outfitted entirely by REI in-house, many of these trips were contracted through small, local outfitters.

In his email to employees, Artz assured the Experiences team that they have worked extremely hard and created “wonderful experiences for nearly one million people over those years” and that they had done nothing wrong. Artz explained the business decision, stating that in 2024, Experiences served 40,000 customers, making up less than 0.4 percent of all co-op customers. He also shared that Experiences cost significantly more to run than it was bringing in.

“When we look at the all-up costs of running this business, including costs like marketing and technology, we are losing millions of dollars every year and subsidizing Experiences with profits from other parts of the business,” Artz wrote.

Artz also stated that every full-time employee laid off will continue to receive regular salary through March 9, and active benefits through the end of March, while part-time employees will remain “benefits-eligible through January 2025 and will also be eligible for a severance payment.” Additionally, employees who split time between Experiences and Stores may have the option to continue employment.

2025 REI Experiences layoffs impact employees, outfitters, and customers

Plans are in motion to update customers and partners, Artz shared. Customers currently booked on trips will receive a “full refund of all costs paid to REI.” Travel partners with REI, including small, local outfitters across the U.S. will also be impacted, with Artz sharing that REI would “begin informing partners this week and will work with them to terminate our existing contracts.”

Additionally, many kayaking outfitters who had partnered with REI to provide gear and in many cases guide their vendor-model trips are also significantly impacted.

“I would guess that it’s an equal or greater number of people that are losing their jobs from the vendor network than there are actually REI employees,” shared Brian Goodremont, of San Juan Outfitters in Washington. San Juan Outfitters has partnered with REI for 16 years to lead sea kayaking trips throughout the San Juan Islands, as well as a number of multi-day backpacking and multisport trips throughout Washington State.

Sea kayaking trips in the San Juan Islands cancelled in wake of REI closing Experiences business
Cancelled trips include a number of San Juan Islands sea kayaking trips for 2025. Feature Image courtesy Maddy Marquardt

“Everything that REI advertised and delivered in Washington State was us,” explained Goodremont, adding that San Juan Outfitters itself will be experiencing layoffs as a result. “It will take a significant amount of time to rebuild our business to where it was because to work with a partner like REI you have to sacrifice a lot of your other business.”

“I would typically employ 40 seasonal guides and 10 full-time year-round staff with benefits, and my seasonal staff is going to decrease by almost two thirds… I will probably lose two to three full-time year round support staff,” Goodremont added.

The news comes not only as a hit for the Experiences team and travel partners, but for travelers who used and loved the program as well.

“My experience with REI guides over the years has been so positive. I’m really upset about REI dropping the experience division of their company. I spent so much money at REI leading up to each trip,” Amanda, who asked to be identified by first name only, shared with Paddling Mag.

According to a source who asked not to be named and who had a headquarters position within REI Experiences, about 300 of the people laid off were field staff and guides, while 130 had positions in headquarters.

“I’m sad but I’m not shocked,” shared the former REI Experiences headquarters employee. “This is an incredible loss for REI. It’s the heart and soul of REI; it’s the actual getting outside.”

The former REI Experiences staffer shared that on January 7 they received an email for all employees to join a Microsoft Teams meeting at 8:30 a.m. PST the following day from a headquarters device. During the meeting, everyone’s mics were automatically shut off.

“The Experiences vibe was so fun and everyone was really passionate, and family. I had never worked on a team that was so big into celebrating each other,” shared the former employee. “The Teams chats on meetings would be really really silly and fun… the fact that we were all muted, shut off, there was no chat, was somber. Everyone was off camera.”

Despite the loss of REI Experiences business, the former headquarters employee remained hopeful, stating “such a bright pool of talent is ripe for the taking for competitors”.

What comes next for REI?

“We continue to believe there is a role for REI in outdoor education and expertise,” Artz shared in the email. “However, we need to reexamine and rework how we deliver classes and education to ensure they’re relevant to our customers, aligned to our mission and financially viable. We are funding a small team to innovate and test in this area in 2025.”

“Our goal must always be the long-term financial health of the co-op, and while today’s decision is a difficult one, it is necessary.”

 

When To Trust Your Fear In The Backcountry

person stands at dawn or dusk holding a canoe paddle beside a canoe parked at the shore of a calm waterway with hills behind
Gut instinct: reliably guiding you to safety and snack time. | Feature photo: Roderick Chen/Alamy

“Trust your gut,” they say. It’s the most common advice when faced with the unknown. But at the start of a four-day backcountry trip with two girlfriends, I can’t tell if this uneasy rumbling in my belly is my intuition talking or the spicy roadside burrito from lunch.

We arrived at a wilderness campsite with three sites clustered together. When I hastily planned this trip two nights prior, no one else was booked here. Now, a shirtless man is set up at the neighboring site 50 meters from us.

“Hey there,” we call out as we approach. He says nothing but sizes us up as we portage by. Weird.

When to trust your fear in the backcountry

We should leave, I think. But I don’t say it out loud. It’s one friend’s first backcountry trip, and I don’t want to ruin it by overreacting. On our sun-kissed piney campsite, I ignore my percolating worry about the shirtless stranger, our relative isolation and the lack of cell service. We put up the tent and start dinner. There are three of us; everything will be fine.

person stands at dawn or dusk holding a canoe paddle beside a canoe parked at the shore of a calm waterway with hills behind
Gut instinct: reliably guiding you to safety and snack time. | Feature photo: Roderick Chen/Alamy

The next two hours were surreal. Our neighbor paddled vigorous circles around the small lake, the only way to get a clear view of our site perched above. He then blared 1940s jazz tunes, including “Jeepers Creepers,” the theme song of a 2001 horror movie by the same name. As dusk settled, he started shouting curses from his site.

“This is weird, right?” Mel asked after the second outburst. Hell, yes. But the weirdest part was we were still there at all.

When darkness fell and our neighbor’s flashlight suddenly panned through the woods behind our site while he screamed obscenities, we pulled the plug. Setting a record for the fastest takedown, we hustled out of there, one teeny-tiny blade on a multitool held between us. We camped hidden in a bushy ditch back at the parking lot where we’d been dropped off and fell asleep listening to the cries of coyotes.

The rest of the trip passed without incident, but I’ve often thought back to this encounter. Of all the strangers I’ve met in remote areas—almost all kind, helpful and generous—how did I know this unremarkable guy was trouble from the first moment? And why didn’t I listen?

Tapping into your intuition

Years prior, before I pedaled off on a six-month solo cycling tour in Asia, my mom insisted I take a self-defense course. After pummeling me, the instructor recommended reading The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker. The bestselling author is a private security specialist focusing on personal safety, but his advice on disentangling real danger from mere anxiety and why you should never ever ignore your gut feeling is relevant for every outdoor adventurer.

According to de Becker, gut feelings aren’t mystical, woo-woo, unexplained phenomena. Instead, they are the subconscious mind rapidly processing information without conscious awareness. Intuition isn’t a sixth sense; it’s simply unconscious observation.

According to de Becker, intuition evolved to alert us to danger before logic can catch up. Too often, we ignore or rationalize it away.

Sound familiar?

Hindsight is 20/20. Get off the water early and batten down the campsite before an unexpected ferocious storm rips through and feel vindicated. But if I had packed up every time I lay awake, imagining marauding bears while field mice snapped twigs outside the tent, I’d never make it past the first night on any solo trip.

Distinguishing between imagined danger and intuition is crucial to making effective decisions. De Becker describes intuition as a calm, clear feeling prompting specific action. Helpful. On the other hand, anxiety is often diffuse and noisy, overwhelming us with endless what-ifs. Not helpful.

With that distinction, the advice to trust your gut can be an actionable safety tool instead of a well-worn cliché.

Editor-in-chief Kaydi Pyette has wild camped on self-propelled trips all over the world. A stranger once burst into her tent, but it was a curious four-year-old boy who invited her for dinner with his family. She listened to her gut and accepted, of course.

Cover of the Summer 2024 issue of Paddling Magazine, Issue 72This article was first published in Issue 72 of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.

Gut instinct: reliably guiding you to safety and snack time. | Feature photo: Roderick Chen/Alamy

 

Paddleboarder Rescues Man Who Fell Through Ice On Jet Ski (Video)

On December 26, 2024, on Long Island, New York, a man rode his jetski onto a semi-frozen part of Poopspastuck Creek, and broke through the ice. Witnessing from her window, 28-year-old Kayla Masotto was quick to action, tossing a jacket over her pajamas and grabbing her paddleboard.

Her younger sister filmed while Masotto took to the ice.

Harrowing ice rescue by paddleboarder on Poopspastuck Creek

“I was putting my weight on the front of my board and pushing hard,” Masotto shared in an interview.

In the video shot by Masotto’s younger sister, Masotto quickly works through the best method to get herself and her paddleboard across the ice and out to the victim without breaking through the ice herself. She begins by laying prone on the board and attempting to scoot. Masotto quickly finds that to be ineffective and switches to a different tactic.

Masotto then tries to scoot from the kneeling position on the board before switching tactics again, opting to put her weight on her hands on the board and use her legs to propel her and the board across the ice.

When Masotto reached the man, she used her paddle to help pull him toward her paddleboard. Kneeling and keeping a low center of gravity on the paddleboard, Masotto held her board steady while the man climbed out of the water and onto the front of her paddleboard, also keeping low to the board with Masotto’s help.

Other rescuers from the nearby marina joined Masotto on the ice with paddlecraft of their own, and tossed Masotto and the victim a rope to pull them off the ice and to safety.

“His hands, fingers, legs, his whole body was numb,” Masotto said. “He had let me know that he really thought he was gonna die.”

“Kayla just saved this man’s life,” Masotto’s younger sister says at the end of the video she filmed of the ordeal.

After rescue, Masotto and other good samaritans honored in a ceremony

Masotto and the other rescuers were recently honored by first responders in a ceremony, where Masotto met with the man she had saved and his family.

“He brought me flowers and said that I was his guardian angel,” said Massotto.

According to the Mastic Fire Department, at 12:30 p.m. on December 26, the department was activated for a cold water rescue at Poopspastuck Creek. Thanks to Masotto and the other good Samaritans on the scene, the victim was recovered from the water and experiencing the early effects of hypothermia as first responders rallied to the scene, according to a post on Facebook.

“This is what I want the message to be going into 2025,” Kayla shared in an interview. “We all need to look out for each other and help each other.”

While Masotto’s quick thinking and bravery saved a life, the incident highlights safety measures every paddler should follow: Always wear a PFD, dress for immersion, and use a leash on your paddleboard. These precautions not only help ensure your safety but also your ability to help others in an emergency.

Feature Image: Kayla Masotto shares the story of the ice rescue. Inside Edition | YouTube

 

Alpacka Raft Launches New Mage Whitewater Packraft

New Alpacka Rafts Mage descends waterfall
The new Alpacka Rafts Mage tackles a waterfall. | Feature photo: courtesy Alpacka Rafts

Alpacka Raft has launched the all new Mage, a packable whitewater packraft designed for intermediate to advanced whitewater along with updates to four other Alpacka lineups in their 2025 updates.

Colorado-based Alpacka Raft was founded in 2000 by Sheri and Thor Tingey, a mother and son team, and the rafts are designed and handmade in Mancos, Colorado.

“The Mage represents the pinnacle of our passion and ingenuity. It’s light, lightning-fast, and handles large whitewater incredibly well,” shared Thor Tingey, Alpacka Raft CEO and co-founder. “We are already inspired by what paddlers are doing with it, and we can’t wait to see where they take it next.”

New Alpacka Rafts Mage descends waterfall
Featured Image: The new Alpacka Raft Mage. Image courtesy Alpacka Raft.

The new Alpacka Raft Mage cuts weight while retaining speed and volume

The Mage sports a whitewater-style hull and the best of the performance features from the Valkyrie V3, culminating in the most responsive, fastest and smoothest traditional whitewater packraft from Alpacka Raft yet, according to a press release.

Despite having increased cargo capacity compared to the Valkyrie, the Mage weighs less than the Valkyrie at 10.7 lbs with the self-bailer, or 11.75 lbs with the whitewater deck compared to the Valkyrie at 13.9 lbs. A narrow and longer hull on the new Mage makes for a longer waterline, increasing speed and improving tracking.

Additionally, the Mage sports a slight increase in bow and stern rocker and a one-piece dropped floor with a full-length inflatable pad. Paddlers can expect this to boost edging, secondary stability and efficiency compared to the Valkyrie without sacrificing speed, according to Alpacka. The Paddling Mag teams look forward to field testing the Mage in Spring 2025.

The Mage is available both in a whitewater deck and self-bailing configuration. Pricing starts at $1,600.

Other changes for Alpacka Raft in 2025

In addition to introducing the new Mage whitewater pack rafting design, Alpacka Raft has also updated the Caribou, Expedition, Refuge, and Gnarwhal designs. The Wolverine model has been replaced. Meanwhile, the long-longest-running Alpacka Raft packraft, the Classic, has been retired.

“Our packraft lineup includes a model for every paddler type. We are continuing to move forward and push the limits on design while providing options for everyone,” said Tingey. “From mellow river runs and fishing trips to demanding backcountry outings and challenging whitewater, and everything in-between, our lineup delivers something special for everyone who wants to use a packraft to access locations they otherwise couldn’t.”

Combating “Shrink It And Pink It”

Level Six women's drysuit

In November 2024, Level Six launched the Freya Drysuit Design Feedback Survey, seeking input on measurements, fit and stories from paddlers who have experiences with women’s or non-unisex drysuits.

In all, 480 people filled out the survey, representing a niche population of an already niche sport — women’s drysuit users. According to Morgan Lirette from the Level Six team, the average user spent a half hour filling out the survey and a variety of age groups and skill levels were represented.

Kokatat launched the first women’s paddling drysuit in 1995. Today, every major drysuit manufacturer makes at least one women’s option. After 30 years of innovation and refinement in women’s drysuits, what’s unique about Level Six’s initiative is that they’re collecting user-driven data and hundreds of personal anecdotes about how drysuit fit has affected women as data for future updates to their drysuit line.

“We can’t say we’re creating accessible and inclusive gear unless we’re looking at who our gear actually fits, and does it actually fit and work for our clientele,” shared Lirette.

“Making a drysuit that has a better fit doesn’t necessarily mean that more people are going to buy it… but for people who really are looking for a drysuit that is well thought-out and has fit in mind it is going to be a game changer, more than just owning drysuit that gives you the ability to paddle,” Lirette added.

“Shrink it and pink it” in outdoor sports

Many sports come from a long legacy of “shrink it and pink it”, or the practice of taking products designed for and often by men, scaling those products down in size and making them pink or traditionally “feminine” without actually altering the product design to meet the needs of users. While the outdoor industry has made efforts to better consider the distinct needs of female paddlers, there is still a long way to go when it comes to leveling the playing field.

Image from the Level Six Freya Drysuit survey
“Womens gear is changing,” reads the landing page on the Drysuit Design Feedback Survey. | Image courtesy Level Six

Anecdotally, the most common gripes women report are that their drysuits fit too tightly in the hips, bust, and thighs. Or, when a drysuit does fit in those places, some report excess fabric length-wise or in height.

But how does one quantify the importance of gear fit beyond the conversations of women and people who don’t fit the unisex drysuit well?

Lirette shared that while measurements were an important part of the Freya Drysuit Design Feedback Survey, it was just as important to get context beyond the measurements. Put simply, what are the effects when a person cannot find outdoor gear that fits them well? What are the stakes of a lack of inclusive sizing?

Why drysuit fit matters in paddling skill development

“A lot of the comments and responses we got were extremely personal, extremely passionate people sharing how this [drysuit fit] has affected them—their mental health, body image, their paddling skills and abilities,” Lirette shared.

Which, of course, makes sense: bodies are personal. A drysuit is an important piece of gear for paddlers looking to advance their skill set and practice rescues. Drysuits keep a paddler dry when in the water and extend the paddling season from summers and warm water exclusively to anywhere and anytime there is open water to paddle.

Too tight, and a drysuit can restrict motion. Too large with excess material, drysuits can snag, get in the way and also restrict motion.

A paddler who can’t find a drysuit that fits them well will not be able to practice effectively in colder water, preventing that paddler’s skills from progressing. This holds true for outdoor gear well beyond the realm of paddling: a hiker who cannot find a backpacking bag that fits their body has an additional barrier to becoming an accomplished backpacker.

Gear fit is a concrete barrier for many people in outdoor sports when it comes to building skills, but it also has more subtle effects that can be even more difficult to quantify. Drysuit fit is personal for paddlers of many skill levels, including Lirette, who, in addition to her role at Level Six, has worked as a whitewater kayaking instructor on the Ottawa River.

“I had a time period where I felt that my growth as a paddler had kind of stagnated,” Lirette shared. “We are so lucky that the Ottawa River is warm water, warm weather paddling in the summer, but anything shoulder season is not… there was a point where I was really struggling to find a drysuit.”

The typical drysuit runs anywhere from $800 USD to $1,500 USD, making it one of the most expensive pieces of paddling gear beyond a boat itself.

“If I’m investing that much in something that isn’t going to fit? I’m not going to be comfortable, that’s what I’m going to be preoccupied with, thinking about when I’m trying to paddle harder stuff,” Lirette added. “I’m not going to do well.”

“It’s a barrier that just shouldn’t exist. For a lot of people, it doesn’t, and they’re fine; they can get a drysuit that works,” said Lirette. “But for the people that it does exist, it’s a huge factor.”

The widespread effects of “shrink it and pink it”

The practice of “shrink it and pink it” makes waves far beyond the outdoor industry, and in its wake impacts range from stymying the growth of female outdoor athletes to more insidious results.

Verity Now shares that women in the United States are 73% more likely to sustain injuries in a vehicle crash than men, and 17-18.5% more likely to die in a vehicle crash than men. Tellingly, female dummies are not required in the United States to be crash tested in the driver position in vehicles.

According to an article in Harvard Social Impact Review, female soldiers in the United States are more likely to fracture their pelvis than males as a result of the unisex design of military boots, backpacks, and course requirements.

Survey results

Lirette shared that information Level Six gathered via the survey will be reflected in changes in the 2027 Freya drysuit line.

“We say it’s a women’s fit survey, but it’s not a problem that affects women exclusively. We’ve kind of used women’s as a term for anyone who doesn’t use male or unisex gear.” Lirette went on to add that the survey is about more than women’s fit, and rather about meeting the needs of a growing sport and changing industry.

This isn’t the first time Level Six has worked to make gear for more body types; their push for inclusive sizing is also reflected in the Ace Sprayskirt, Level Six’s spray skirt designed for big water, which in addition to a variety of tunnel sizes also has a trim-able tunnel length, meaning that paddlers can customize fit at home.

“Fifty percent of our staff is female, all of whom actively paddle. We are constantly getting feedback from our team to make sure we are adjusting the fit and features to meet their needs for a higher-performing garment. With a big push right now as a company to ensure that every piece of gear we make has a female-specific option, we have the unique opportunity to start from scratch on many of these new styles to ensure the fit is perfect,” shared Stig Larsson, CEO of Level Six.

While the Level Six team has already gathered the data they needed for drysuit design updates, they’ve decided to leave the survey up on their website as a place for paddlers who don’t see their body type represented in gear to share their stories.

Find the survey linked here.

Feature Image: Paddler Katie Kowalski in a Level Six Drysuit | Casey Bryant Jones, courtesy Level Six