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The Tao Of Franken

Photo: Courtesy Bomber Gear
Bomber Gear founder Rick "Tao" Franken passed away earlier this year

Rick “Tao” Franken dedicated his life to creating better gear. Tragically, the Bomber Gear brand he worked so hard to create and preserve will have to continue without him. At this year’s Alabama Mountain Games in March, Franken died of respiratory failure in his sleep. The story of Bomber Gear is as intriguing as Franken was resilient and talented.

In 1992, 18-year-old Franken’s roommate, Rob Mauceli, bought a sewing machine from Wal-Mart. The caving-obsessed pair had a plan to supply themselves with higher quality ropewalkers and kneepads than what was already available on the market. By 1995, the little garage of his Durango, Colorado, townhouse was stuffed with sewing machines and Bomber Gear was incorporated.

In a memoir he posted as a text document in an online forum in 2009, Franken wrote, “it was my calling; a designer for extreme sports.” In 1997, after realizing the market for caving gear offered little room for growth, the small team shifted their attention to another of their passions— paddling. The following 16 years would prove to be a rollercoaster for both Franken and Bomber Gear.

Early expansion saw Franken move into a trailer next to a Navajo reservation where he employed 50 sewers. Franken qualified as first alternate on the U.S. kayak team in the squirt boat class…

 

To read more about Tao Franken, check out Rapid, Early Summer 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read the rest here.

 

Off The Tongue: Chicks And Babies Revisited

Photo: Scott MacGregor
Publisher Scott MacGregor discusses why chicks, babies and whitewater do go together

Ben Aylsworth used to write a column for Rapid. He called it Reactionary. If you know Ben or remember his column, you’d get the double entendre. In a 13-issue streak, Ben pissed off just about everybody in whitewater. Canoeists. Rafters. Dogs. Rodeo stars. Slalom racers. Women. Babies were too young to read and write, so mothers wrote angry letters on their behalf. These were fun times here in the Rapid editorial office.

Ben was saddened—poor Ben—that his paddling buddies were being sucked from their boats for romantic walks and lamaze classes. He wrote: “it’s not waterfalls or boulder-choked creeks, it’s chicks and newborn babies that are the most dangerous things that can happen to paddling guys. It’s lonely on the couch and they will soon resent your paddling trips and your friends. Babies are no different, except you can see them coming. Tick, tick, tick…you have nine months.” you get the idea. Let’s face it, good whitewater—play parks not withstanding—is a whole day affair. I don’t know if I’ve ever said I’d be home for dinner and actually was. Adventure always seems to get in the way.

Ben’s secret, which was not really that much of a secret, was to take small truths and then blow the roof off. But he was only half right about chicks and babies…

 

To read more about chicks and babies, check out Rapid, Early Summer 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read the rest here.

 

Daily Photo: Morning Glory

Photo: Jim Cunningham
Daily Photo: Morning Glory

Adventure Kayak reader and paddling sage Jim Cunningham shared this photo and these words: “The rush of whitewater in a kayak is an unequivocal thrill. But who can deny that paddling doesn’t get any better than this?”

Lake Natoma in Folsom, California, shortly after sunrise. 

Want to see your photo here? Send to [email protected] with subject line Daily Photo.

 

 

(C)Raft Brew

Photo: Michael Mechan
A new brewing company has opened along the banks of the Ottawa River

I pulled up to the farm the day after a late season snowstorm. The Ottawa River’s Lorne rapids are only about 500 yards away. Upstream and downstream, the river is still frozen and will be for a few weeks yet.

It’s around noon on a Sunday and the trio of raft guides I’ve come to meet are inside the barn, huddled around a pair of kegs. I’m greeted by red faces I chock up to the cold weather inside the unheated building, not the beer. It’s early and the tasting is yet to get underway.

“C’mon in!” says Chris Thompson as we shake hands. The tall British transplant introduces me to a second Chris Thompson (yes, there are two, and yes it gets confusing), an Ottawa Valley native, and James Innes who met the three at the rafting company where they spend their summers. The three are responsible for the best kind of upstart—a craft brewery they’ve dubbed the Whitewater Brewing Company.

Introductions out of the way, we get straight to why I’m here—the beer. It’s clear the trio knows their stuff. Stuff like the only four ingredients allowed in beer according to bavarian purity law and what type of glassware to pair with which beer. They’d never rub it in your face, though. That would require a kind of pretentiousness raft guides just don’t possess. “We met on the first day of guide training eight years ago,” the Chris’ explained. Stymied by the fact that they shared the same name, they have been fast friends ever since. “James came on board a little later,” they go on, “his experience is in home brewing.”

“We’ve been tossing around the idea of starting a craft brewery for the past four or five years,” says non-British Chris. The idea morphed from a half-baked idea tossed around the campfire circle into a true business within the past year. “Our beers will be available on taps at the local raft companies and taverns,” he explains, “and in growlers at local dispensaries. We’re even working on collapsible plastic containers for trips.”

As British Chris explains mash, the fermentation process and how their kegging apparatus can brew up to three batches a day, I munch on some fresh, chocolate-flavored malt, and wonder what it is about beer that draws in paddlers. For these three, it’s taste and the creativity behind experimenting with flavors. It’s also the uncanny ability of beer to bring people together.

Throughout the afternoon, the side door opens and with a blast of frigid air, vaguely familiar faces from the Ottawa Valley paddling scene stumble out of the snow and into the barn. In a moment of self-awareness, I ducked out after tasting a hoppy I.P.A. and a full-flavored cream ale, mustering up the willpower to leave while still able to drive home.

I pulled off the farm road knowing spring thaw mustn’t be far off. Come for the whitewater, stay for the beer. 

Find out about seasonal varieties and where you can get the Whitewater Brewing Company’s beer on Facebook

This article on Whitewater Brewing Company was published in the Summer 2013 issue of Rapid magazine.This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2013 issue of Rapid Magazine.

 

Base Camp: Time Traveler

Photo: Scott MacGregor
Publisher Scott MacGregor and his family got a chance to travel back in time recently

A couple minutes from our home there’s a small lake with a muddy, weedy beach. The locals call it Leech Beach. There aren’t too many bloodsuckers really, but it’s a fun name that keeps tourists away— most of them. Which is why on this particular evening I made a point of introducing ourselves to the strangers. It was obvious even to the kids they weren’t from around here.

Roy and Colleen told us they were in town for the Deer Run Rendezvous. They said they’d be most honored if we were to drop by their camp. Tonight there was to be an axe throwing competition, a traditional native ceremony and campfire. They assured us we’d be welcome but we had to leave our truck parked at the fish and game clubhouse—we’d have to walk the last 200 meters back in time.

A rendezvous was a big deal back in the day. A time for traders to gather and barter supplies for furs with local tribes. Brigades of voyageurs from the North West Company would arrive with gunpowder, knives, kettles and pots and collect cured skins and pelts. It was a business meeting, mostly. But like so many business meetings, it was a social gathering…

 

To read the rest of this article, check out Canoeroots & Family Camping,  Summer/Fall 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

 

Have Kids, Will Paddle

Photo: Dan Clark
Alice and Dan Clark completed a 100 day paddle to the Arctic...with toddlers

While most paddling families dream about weekends or a blessed week of family adventure, Dan Clark and Alice Young Clark are busy mapping the put-ins and take-outs for family paddles that are thousands of kilometers, and several months, apart. While most are concerned with how many nappies to bring and how to keep the kids from throwing the new camera in the water out of sheer boredom, Dan, Alice, Koby, age five, and three-year-old Ava Fei, are likely weeks into the blissful and timeless routine of a long—and I mean really long—family canoe trip.

With summer family canoe trips under their belt that include the coast of Alaska and a month on the Yukon River, the family decided to bite off something more substantial last summer: a 3,400-kilometer, three-month family canoe journey from Jasper, Alberta, to the Arctic Ocean at Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories. In addition to paddling, cooking, route planning and parenting, Dan documented the family adventure in an award-winning, 14-minute film, titled Have Kids, Will Paddle.

“We go on wilderness trips to escape our civilized world, to strengthen our family bonds and to get grounded in nature,” explains a wild-blooded but mild-mannered Clark.

“We appreciate the opportunity to live in the moment, enjoying a simple existence as a family. In the uninterrupted time together we delight in the solitude of wild spaces, the opportunity for creative outdoor play and the ability to live outside, amidst the rhythms of nature.”

 

To read more about how Alice and Dan pulled off their trip, check out Canoeroots & Family Camping,  Summer/Fall 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

 

Why Canoeists Are Best Prepared To Fight Off A Zombie Apocalypse

Illustration: Lorenzo Del Bianco
Illustration: Lorenzo Del Bianco

It all started with one off-hand remark about how paddlers are more prepared for a zombie apocalypse than the general public. After that, every major morning show was eager to have me on. Instead of chatting about the latest camp gadgets, I was the new expert on the latest trend: zombie survival kits.

Since the classic 1968 film, Night of the Living Dead, zombies have been the focus of hundreds of movies and have invaded every corner of pop culture in the past decade. Ten million of us fans watched cable television show The Walking Dead religiously. Pre-teens stay up too late, killing corpses on their game consoles. The undead have even infested the classics, including revamped novel, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and the silver screen hit, Abraham Lincoln vs. Zombies.

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that zombies have crept into outdoor marketing, too.

The past few years have seen a surge in zombie apocalypse survival kits from outdoor companies. Their contents are a mix of traditional camping products and survival gear, accompanied by a tongue-in-cheek ad campaign.

Here’s a sampling: survival essentials manufacturer SOL (Survive Outdoors Longer) rebranded their cornerstone survival kit to create the SZL (Survive Zombies Longer) kit. It’s covered in blood splatter graphics, of course. Gerber’s got citizens covered, “if the Dead walk,” with their Apocalypse Kit, which features an array of machetes and knives. And if you’re looking for helpful tips and gear recommendations for the dawn of the dead, they’re on offer at Goal Zero’s zombie-themed microsite, zurvived.it.

Sales reps certainly seem to be having fun with the rebranded products. “We’d rather promote bivy bags, survival knives and our solar charge flashlights for zombie protection than some other, more serious, end of the world scenario,” says Barna Robinson, a sales agent for Goal Zero.

When it comes to end of the world scenarios, canoeists, I believe, are more prepared then anyone else. Zombie survival kits boast a mix of rope, water purification tablets, first aid supplies, shelters and waterproof matches, all tucked into a durable pack. I’ve got all that, and so do you. Axes and multi-tools aside, a quick trip to the gear attic can supply enough bivy bags, solar kits and ponchos to last at least a dozen zombie attacks. Add to that dehydrated chili packs and homemade jerky, cooked on non-petroleum cook stoves, and we’re set for the onslaught.

As backcountry paddlers, we practice for the apocalypse for days at a time. We’re used to eating dehydrated food, schlepping heavy supplies through the bush, foraging and fishing for dinner, warding off predators and traveling without leaving a trace. Best of all, we’ve got the means to travel to remote, zombie-free islands.

The truth about zombie culture, why the newest zombie movie outsells the last, is not the fear of the brain-eating zombies themselves. Instead, most of us have a deep desire to see if we could survive living in an untamed world. Well, I’ve survived the sweepers and five hellish portages on the Kopka River during blackfly season without DEET. Bring on the zombies, I say.

Kevin Callan’s bug-out bag includes two machetes and a bottle of the hard stuff.

Illustration: Lorenzo Del Bianco

Fire And Water

Photo: Guy Kimola
Traditional dugout canoes are experiencing something of a revival these days

 

Graceful, sleek and occasionally ferocious, the Haida dugout canoe has plied the waters of the Pacific Northwest for thousands of years. Traditionally built on Haida Gwaii, an archipelago off the northwest coast of British Columbia formally known as the Queen Charlotte Islands, the ornate dugout canoe has experienced a revival in recent years.

“The canoe was central to the culture as we know it today,” says Nika Collison, curator at the Haida Heritage Centre in Skidegate, BC. “Historically, the canoe was our highway, our sole vehicle. Today it’s making a comeback, it’s pivotal in our youth gaining a deep interest in Haida culture. It connects the land and water and where they come from.”

Haida dugouts ranged in size from small two-man crafts, no bigger than the common canoes of today, to 70-foot-long, ninefoot- wide, ocean-going war and cargo canoes. Equipped with a raised bow to cut through waves, they were capable of handling most of what the Pacific could throw at them.

“The dugout allowed us to fish off of the shore in great abundance, to travel around the island and contact our relatives. It allowed us to travel across the Hecate Strait to the mainland, acquiring goods that weren’t available locally,” adds Collison. “It not only expanded our own economy, it gave us a broader understanding of the world.” The oral tradition of the Haida people includes stories of journeys by dugout as far south as the coast of California and even Hawaii.

Haida dugouts are made of western red cedar, a tree that can grow over 200 feet tall and 12 feet in diameter. Felled by fire in the summer, the tree would be cut to length and the bark and sapwood removed. Since the trees are heavier on the north side, the log was split east to west to avoid a list in the finished canoe. The basic shape was roughed in and left over winter to season. The next spring work resumed and the canoe was hollowed out. Finishing involved partially filling the canoe with water and using hot rocks to boil the water and steam the sides so that they could be stretched outwards, giving the canoe more beam.

Fires were lit along the canoe’s length to harden and strengthen the wood. Ornately carved bow and stern pieces were sometimes added. Waterproofing was accomplished using fish oil, and splits in the wood were filled with pitch. The finished product was a seaworthy vessel with a rounded hull and flared sides, rising to high bow and stern projections—a thing of beauty.

During the late twentieth century, the traditional knowledge of the canoe’s manufacture was close to dying out before Haida community members and artists, including the late Bill Reid, stepped in. Though there’s only been a handful built in the last 100 years, Haida communities have increasingly been paddling them in exhibitions and race events to connect with their heritage, says Collison.

Guy Kimola is a professional photographer from Masset, Haida Gwaii. www.haidagwaiiphotos.com

 

This article originally appeared in Canoeroots & Family Camping,  Summer/Fall 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

 

 

Never Get Lost Again

Photo: Charlotte Jacklein
Follow these tips to ensure you don't let lost on your next portage

Scenario A: You’re knee-deep in mud, canoe on your shoulders, bush-whacking your way along what you swear was a portage trail on the map. While you try to sound confident about the great secret lake ahead, your partner begins to mutter about divorce lawyers.

Scenario B: After a day of smooth paddling, you arrive at your destination lake with the afternoon sun still high. Consulting your map, you find a prime campsite with both a sunset view and morning light, plus a gentle breeze to fend off evening bugs, and settle into camp for a glorious evening.

Basic navigation and map reading skills can mean the difference between a miserable misadventure and a glitch-free journey. Foggy days, flat landscapes and unmarked portages and campsites can all leave the uninitiated paddler wishing they knew how to truly navigate. The humble compass and a basic topographical map will keep you on track long after your top-end GPS has run out of batteries—or was used as a chew toy by your trusty tripping dog.

A basic orienteering compass can be purchased in any outdoor store for the price of a latte and a dozen donuts. Topographical maps can be ordered online in advance or often bought from local paddling organizations or authorities.

To navigate with map and compass, simply hold the compass flat in the palm of your hand away from any metal objects and watch the red end of the needle swing north…

To read the rest of this article, which originally appeared in Canoeroots & Family Camping,  Summer/Fall 2013, download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch AppAndroid App or read it here.

 

Traditional Tripper

Photo: Jennifer Johnson
The canoe tripping trend no one is talking about

Whether executing a quick and dirty weekend warrior blitz or an epic slog-fest, ultralight, ultra-fast and ultra high-tech are the buzzwords du jour. But what if freeze-dried, fast and furious isn’t your thing? If canoe tripping to you is paddling a lake less traveled, rather than a conquest attained, you’re not alone.

In contrast to today’s hectic lifestyles, many are looking to slow down and absorb, rather than speed up and conquer. There’s an attraction to exploring traditional skills and a deliberate move away from dependence on high-tech gear. This interest has been reflected in spikes in enrolment at traditional skills schools, including the Maine Primitive Skills School, where apprenticeships, courses and day classes are filled to capacity. Here students can learn to forage, make packs from hides and wood, and erect shelters, all without the help of modern materials.

Program staffer Michael Douglas attributes this to folks wanting to “increase our awareness and appreciation for the landscape.” It’s finding a sense of purpose and belonging through using traditional skills that keeps trippers coming back, he says. Take, for example, the once-staple kitchen box, the wanigan. For the uninitiated, a wanigan is a piece of traditional tripping heaven. Made of wood and portaged with a leather tumpline, it neatly stores the tools to create backcountry feasts that feed the body, as well as the soul. When its duty is done, the wanigan is a place to rest weary bones or pass the time playing a game of checkers on its painted lid.

Woodworker Donald Merchant of Pole and Paddle, a company specializing in traditional canoes and gear, has seen a bigger demand for his hand-made wanigans over the past two years…

 

To read the rest of this article, check out Canoeroots & Family Camping,  Summer/Fall 2013. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.