The Värmdö is a new offering from Melker of Sweden and the Paddling Mag team got a walkthrough of the compact touring kayak and its innovative, eco-friendly construction at Canoecopia 2024.
First look: Melker of Sweden’s Värmdö touring kayak
The Värmdö is a smaller kayak than Melker of Sweden’s previous models but packed with innovations, including a new material based on flax fiber and a cork core.
“We’ve introduced an all-new layup for the boats, so we are utilizing cork as the core material,” says Melker of Sweden founder Pelle Stafshede. He explains that the cork is made from the bark of a cork oak tree, which is harvested every nine years and can live for 250 years.
“Very good from a sustainability point of view,” Stafshede adds.
Adding to the Värmdö’s sustainability credentials, the flax fibers used in the kayak’s construction stem from a flower, creating a plant-based laminate. This is then infused with a bio-based or plant-based epoxy.
Named after the Stockholm Archipelago, where company staff live and work, the Värmdö also won the Best Sea/Touring Kayak in the fifth annual Paddling Magazine Industry Awards in November 2023. The award recognizes significant and innovative achievements in paddlesports product development.
“We’re now manufacturing all our products in Sweden; this has been the dream since I started the company back in 2015, to be able to manufacture in my own backyard,” says Stafshede.
The 13.5-foot Värmdö is 39 pounds and available in two colors; all natural and Melker’s signature turquoise.
For as long as he can remember, Robert Lester has been fascinated by water. As a child growing up in Butte, Montana, Lester would make miniature wooden boats and float them in waters feeding the mighty Columbia River. From an early age, he says he was fascinated by the “connectivity of rivers.”
At the end of each summer, Lester would concede his boat to the currents.
“I loved the idea that my little wooden boat could travel down the river to the ocean,” says Lester, 26, a professional skier, mountaineer and adventurer. “I decided then that I wanted to make the same journey. The name didn’t exist yet, but the Columbia River Canoe Project dream had been conceived.”
Lester’s dream was cultivated by hours spent studying western watersheds on Google Earth. It finally became a reality last May, when he and 19-year-old trip mate Braxton Mitchell launched their canoe on Silver Bow Creek in Butte and set off on a 1,300-mile journey to the Pacific Ocean.
“If I was going to make this expedition happen, I wanted to have the greatest positive impact I could,” Lester says. “I set the goal to use the expedition to inspire stakeholders near and far to empower measurable improvements for the Columbia River’s ecosystem and its future.”
Ultimately, Lester wanted to share the wonders he discovered as a youngster: to reveal how the Columbia forms a watery ribbon draining over 250,000 square miles of western North America, connecting people and ecosystems and tying the landscape together across seven American states and one Canadian province. But he didn’t shy away from a harsh reality: 19 hydroelectric dams on the Columbia have radically altered its flow.
“Raising awareness and making environmental improvements will not be complete until the Columbia Watershed is as wild and free-flowing as possible,” notes Lester.
Highlights of the trip included “the pure beauty we saw and the connection with nature we were able to develop after so much time outdoors in the natural world,” Lester says.
Of course, spectacular scenery was tempered by physical challenges, including a one-day, 24-mile portage. Lester and Mitchell portaged a whopping 175 miles along the entire journey. Lester says the expedition was most remarkable for the way it created a relationship between himself, Mitchell and the water, in making the first documented source-to-sea descent of the Columbia starting in its eastern headwaters.
“We lived on this river for 52 days,” he says. “For that time it was truly my entire life.”
Lester also hoped to better appreciate the connection local Indigenous communities still have with the Columbia Watershed. Immersing himself in the river was the perfect opportunity to begin to understand this relationship.
“There is an implication in some modern teaching that Native American culture is extinct or irreparably damaged,” he says. “This is not the case. While it has undoubtedly been damaged, the spiritual and cultural relationship that Indigenous people have with the land and water persists. This relationship needs to be encouraged and promoted. In addition, the value all people can derive by learning from the connection between Indigenous people and land and water cannot be understated.”
“Salish-speaking tribes lived off most of the land we traveled through sustainably for over 30,000 years,” he adds. “Modern society can learn a great deal about future sustainability from past practices. This level of sustainability is what society should strive toward.”
Playing in streams and rivers as a kid reinforced the messages Lester heard in school: water is the basis of life on Earth. But in the end, paddling 1,300 miles to the Pacific Ocean taught him an equally important fact, which will be central to a documentary film about the journey set to launch this fall.
“Human life centers around water bodies and waterways,” Lester says. “Indigenous people relied on waterways for hydration, food and transportation. Modern society still relies on waterways in the same ways—yet most people do not realize this importance.”
Tumplines are worn on the head, usually perched just behind the hairline—not over the forehead. Leaning forward aligns the load with the spine, utilizing the back for support. | Feature photo: David Jackson
Of all the epic portaging fails that have happened in a lifetime of canoe tripping, none was more memorable than a tumble on the bouldery high ground in the headwaters of the Lockhart River system northeast of Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories a few years back. We were in the early days of a seven-week canoe trip north toward Bathurst Inlet with no resupply, so there was a welter of stuff to carry when we ran out of paddleable water.
I’d carried the canoe and a blanket pack first, followed by another epic load of food. Then, saving the best to last, I hefted up our kitchen wanigan—aka “that f@#$%^& box.” I got the tump settled on my brains, heaved a Pelican case containing 33 pounds of camera gear on top of the wanigan, and staggered off to what could have been a life-altering crash.
It happened at the end of the portage, as many faux pas do. On my first trip, I tiptoed across a field scatter of boulders with the canoe and flipped it down where it sat nicely and could be reloaded with gear. On this trip with the wanigan, thinking the carry was all but over, I momentarily lost concentration on those last few steps. In a heartbeat, a slip on the rock pitched everything forward. The Pelican case arced ahead and splashed into the water, as did the wanigan, leaving me to continue the fall and do a very inelegant faceplant into the rocks.
Tumplines are worn on the head, usually perched just behind the hairline—not over the forehead. Leaning forward aligns the load with the spine, utilizing the back for support. | Feature photo: David Jackson
But here’s the lucky thing: pack straps would have kept the load more or less on my back and propelled me face-first into the rocks with even more force. Because the load was attached to me with just a wide leather tump strap, the load and I parted company for the betterment of all concerned. There was damage to me and the wanigan, but it could have been much worse. Saved by the tump, as it were. In honor of being delivered from death by that unassuming bit of kit, I’d like to send a little love in its general direction.
When it comes to load carriage, we’re awash in dubious improvements to what was very likely the first and simplest way to move stuff from one place to another: the tumpline. Back straps, external frames, internal frames, Trapper Nelsons, widgets, zippers, waist belts and chest straps—all came along after the tumpline and eclipsed the single head strap for reasons that might include the invention of cameras and other reasons to use your hands while carrying a load.
But, if you follow back load carriage to its first principles, the tump strap was the first and possibly the best innovation for getting loads from one place to another with the least possible effort.
My affection for tumps is in some measure due to the innovative genius of French-Canadian shoemaker Camille Poirier, who transmuted the voyageur tradition of carrying heavy loads with one strap around your head to the green canvas, leather backstrap Duluth Packs created in the 19th century. The Woods Outdoor Company knocked these packs off in Canada, creating a family of packs purchased widely by Canadian summer camps, where I first began my canoe-tripping career.
We took these packs on canoe and hiking trips. On these journeys, I came to appreciate carrying at least some of the load on your head made a world of difference in the distances you could cover without collapsing into a weepy heap of protoplasm with no place to turn for respite.
It wasn’t until I began canoe tripping with friends that the idea of carrying a load with only a tump strap dawned. Tripping camps had been using wanigans with tumps for years. Once we got the kitchen wanigan going, it seemed the best way. For starters, it kept the spine straight and, once you got used to it, appeared to be a way to carry a heavier load for a longer distance than anyone ever could with just shoulder straps. The tump also allowed you to breathe because no straps constricted your chest. Maybe the Nepalese porters, African water carriers, beleaguered voyageurs and all those early hominids who needed to carry a load from place to place had something going on.
The 11th Canadian Infantry Brigade men using tumplines in 1917. | Photo: Dept. of National Defence/Library and Archives Canada
The incontrovertible proof that anyone serious about carrying a load should ditch the shoulder straps and fancy accoutrements of frames and instead adopt the tump strap comes from the 11th Canadian Brigade Tumpline Company during World War I. The problem was getting supplies from roads to the trenches in France, which often involved travel over muddy, conflicted ground not navigable by horse and cart. The only solution was to hand-bomb everything, which took an inordinate amount of manpower. Thanks to the wisdom of Staff Captain F.R. Phelan, a member of the Canadian Expeditionary Force who had done “considerable hunting and fishing in the back woods of Quebec,” the tumpline was introduced to the Allied war effort.
Phelan showed switching from backpacks and conventional hand-carrying of ammunition and supplies to tumplines reduced the manpower needed to supply the trenches by at least 50 percent. For example, a 93-pound Vickers machine gun could be carried by just one man with a tump. It would have otherwise required two men to carry it into the field. So chronicles an article by F.R. Phelan published in the Canadian Defence Quarterly in October 1928.
Twelve picks for digging trenches would require three men with ordinary carriage, but with a tump and a few carefully tied knots with the tump ties, the 78-pound load could be easily carried by just one soldier. The same is true with a load of six sheets of corrugated iron. Both cases would result in a 66.6 percent saving in labor and personnel.
Who knows if the tumps saved lives by moving the loads forward when members of the Tumpline Company slipped and pitched into the muck, but I’m guessing they did.
James Raffan is the former executive director of the Canadian Canoe Museum. He’s also an author, explorer and occasional Zodiac driver. Tumblehome celebrates the rich heritage of canoe culture.
This article was first published in the Spring 2024 issue of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
Tumplines are worn on the head, usually perched just behind the hairline—not over the forehead. Leaning forward aligns the load with the spine, utilizing the back for support. | Feature photo: David Jackson
ORLANDO, FLORIDA – To provide support for the newly formed Paddlesports Trade Coalition (PTC), the Water Sports Foundation (WSF) has agreed to become a sponsor of the group’s first-ever PTC Colab event in Oklahoma City Sept. 3-6.
As its name suggests, the PTC Colab was created to bring like-minded individuals together to build and renew relationships, improve business practices, and meet industry challenges. Colab also will include three days of whitewater and flatwater demos at the OKC Riversport adventure park in downtown Oklahoma City.
The Water Sports Foundation’s executive director, Jim Emmons said, “Every industry should be supported by a trade association dedicated to improving commerce, increasing popularity, limiting liability, and promoting safer participation. We’re excited that the PTC was formed to support the paddlesports industry and the Water Sports Foundation is proud to be a presenting sponsor of the PTC’s inaugural event.”
The Water Sports Foundation is a non-profit outreach organization, focused on boating and paddling safety. One of the WSF’s primary campaigns aims to reduce paddling accidents, which in 2023 accounted for one-third of all boating fatalities in the United States.
The PTC was formed by paddlesports industry leaders as a member supported organization and is led by an 11-member board of directors. Members include manufacturers, retailers, outfitters, sales reps and individuals with a common goal of growing participation and promoting safer paddling. The organization was created to represent the paddlesports industry as one unified voice.
The Water Sports Foundation was created in 2004 as the educational division of the Water Sports Industry Association (WSIA). Since 2011, the WSF has managed 54 U.S. Coast Guard administered federal boating safety grants promoting boating and paddling safety. The WSF’s projects encourage boaters and paddlers to practice safer behaviors.
The new relationship with the Paddlesports Trade Coalition promises to deliver increased paddlesports safety awareness through the industry’s manufacturer and retailer connections with consumer paddlers.
Paddlers know a thing or two about what the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus was thinking when he famously said, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” There is no shortage of outstanding waterways around the world for canoeists, kayakers and rafters to explore—and each one is as different as the people who paddle them. Whether you’re looking for thrilling whitewater, vast wilderness, rich culture or incredible scenery, the world’s bucket list of amazing rivers is mighty deep.
With the words of Heraclitus in mind, some die-hard paddlers will scoff at this article’s premise of picking out a discrete number of the most beautiful rivers in the world for canoeing, kayaking and rafting adventures. But here’s our best shot at a (relatively) short list of the world’s greatest rivers for paddling.
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1 South Nahanni River, Northwest Territories
There’s something for just about every type of paddler on Canada’s iconic South Nahanni River. The river is the centerpiece of Nahanni National Park, set deep in the Mackenzie Mountains of the Northwest Territories. Guided rafting expeditions allow mere mortals (including adventurous families) to experience the depths of the South Nahanni’s incredible canyons; portaging is limited to the hike around Virginia Falls, a mesmerizing 100-meter torrent. Meanwhile, skilled whitewater canoe trippers can paddle the entire waterway from the Moose Ponds to the Liard River, a three-week life-list wilderness expedition.
Photo: Joris Beugels/Unsplash
2 Alsek River, Yukon and Alaska
The Alsek River originates in the meltwater of the world’s largest non-polar ice cap in Kluane National Park, traverses deep wilderness surrounded by some of North America’s highest peaks, and provides great opportunities to view grizzly bears as it drains into the Gulf of Alaska. Guided rafting expeditions make the Alsek accessible to all levels of paddlers. Trips include great meals, side hikes off the river and a unique helicopter portage around the Turnback Canyon. Set aside 10 to 14 days to paddle the entire 255-kilometer waterway.
3 Thelon River, Northwest Territories and Nunavut
The late canoe guide and outfitting pioneer Alex Hall called the Thelon River a subarctic Eden. This lengthy waterway flows smoothly and steadily across Canada’s Barrenlands, from the Northwest Territories to Hudson Bay’s western shore. In comparison to other northern waterways, the Thelon is rather bucolic, making it suitable for wilderness-savvy canoeists with limited whitewater skills. It serves as an oasis for iconic northern wildlife; caribou, wolves, grizzly bears and more can be seen in the Thelon’s sparsely forested valley.
4 Bloodvein River, Ontario and Manitoba
The Bloodvein River is a Canadian Heritage Waterway originating in Ontario’s Woodland Caribou Provincial Park and ultimately draining into Manitoba’s Lake Winnipeg. The Bloodvein is a popular river for wilderness canoe trippers looking to take the next step in experiencing a new level of remoteness. It flows in a pool-and-drop fashion through a corridor of polished granite and boreal forest, where it’s possible to view elusive woodland caribou and contemplate ancient Indigenous pictographs on rock faces. Tracing the entire Bloodvein takes about three weeks. You can also charter a floatplane for a shorter outing or sign up for a guided Bloodvein River canoe trip.
Photo: Kyle Mesdag/Unsplash
5 Ottawa River, Ontario
Flowing through the heart of Canada’s National Capital Region, the Ottawa River is a world-renowned destination for whitewater paddlers. There’s something for everyone here, including exciting rafting excursions for thrill-seeking beginners, great instructional courses for whitewater canoeists and kayakers looking to develop their skills, and world-class natural features for freestyle boating. Best of all, the Ottawa is surrounded by amazing scenery and is paddleable spring through fall.
6 Bonaventure River, Quebec
Located in Eastern Quebec, the scenic Bonaventure River flows from the Chic-Choc Mountains on the Gaspé Peninsula to the Atlantic Ocean. The Bonaventure is noted for its amazing turquoise waters and a mix of class I and II rapids, making it a fantastic destination for intermediate canoeists seeking a bucket-list-worthy river trip. Guided one-day and multiday packages are also available from local outfitters for canoeists and paddleboarders alike.
Photo: Hobby Photographer/Pixabay
7 Missouri River, Montana
The Wild and Scenic-designated Missouri River cuts through the stony heart of Lewis and Clark Country in Montana. Known as the White Cliffs section, the Upper Missouri brings history alive, with austere scenery blending a unique mix of badlands and Great Plains. The river’s meanders and gentle current are suitable for experienced flatwater canoeists.
8 Suwannee River, Florida
The Suwannee is not only one of the longest undammed rivers in the Southeast, its 246-mile course from Georgia’s Okefenokee Swamp to the Gulf of Mexico ranks it among the greatest free-flowing waterways in the entire Lower 48. The Suwannee provides paddlers with a glimpse of the Old South, where majestic live oak trees, crystal clear springs, and quaint towns replace the usual Florida scenes of theme parks and condos. The Suwannee can be paddled by kayakers and canoeists alike, all part of a wilderness water trail that makes it easy to plan campsites along the way.
Photo: Jim Black/Pixabay
9 Salmon River, Idaho
You cannot call yourself a whitewater boater if you don’t get excited about a waterway known as The River of No Return. The Middle Fork of the Salmon River flows through some of the wildest country in the Lower 48, including over two million acres of federally designated wilderness. Guided rafting trips make it possible to experience the otherworldly rock formations, canyons and crystalline water of the 105-mile-long Middle Fork of the Salmon.
10 Green River, Utah
There’s a good reason why so many paddlers spend years waiting on a lottery spot to paddle the Colorado River’s Grand Canyon. Yet in many ways the Green River is just as spectacular—and far more accessible in terms of ease of scoring a permit and the paddling skills required to navigate it—as the “big ditch.” The Green’s lengthy flatwater sections are suitable for canoeists and sea kayakers. Paddling trips are paired with wilderness camping and exceptional hikes through arid landscapes with incredible Indigenous and settler histories.
Photo: Rob Wicks/Unsplash
11 River Wye, United Kingdom
The River Wye is one of Britain’s longest waterways, flowing over 250 kilometers along the border of England and Wales. The Wye is a gem for history buffs and nature lovers alike, revealing the human history of the United Kingdom with ancient cave dwellings and Roman settlements, and providing some of the country’s greatest biodiversity, including otters and a variety of birds. The Wye is suitable for canoeists following a water trail of attractions along the way.
Photo: Blaz Erzetic/Unsplash
12 Soča River, Slovenia
Flowing out of the Julian Alps near the Italian border, Slovenia’s Soča River is one of Europe’s finest waterways for whitewater boating. The best section for whitewater kayaking stretches from Lepena to Čezsoča, with multiple options ranging from class I to IV rapids for beginners to advanced paddlers, along with stunning emerald-colored waters and views of the Alps. Guided trips and instructional packages are also available.
Photo: Fietzfotos/Pixabay
13 Danube River, Germany and Hungary
The Danube is the second-longest river in Europe and it crosses a vast geography, with each country offering a myriad of options for paddlers. The river’s headwaters in Southern Germany provide easy rapids and watery perspectives of the famous Black Forest. Meanwhile, riverside castles in the Hungarian capital of Budapest speak to the 2,850-kilometer-long waterway’s history as a trade route across from the Alps to the Black Sea.
Feature photo: Eduardo Lages/Unsplash
14 Douro River, Portugal
The idyllic Douro River reflects quintessential Mediterranean scenery, with verdant pastoral hills, ancient homesteads and some of the planet’s best vineyards. It’s possible to paddle inn to inn by canoe or kayak, with guided trips available to provide a more immersive journey. Several tributaries of the Douro offer unique experiences on smaller watercourses with the same Old World feel.
15 Whanganui River, New Zealand
The Whanganui River is a cultural treasure amongst New Zealanders, evidenced by it becoming the planet’s first waterway to garner the status of legal personhood in 2017. Canoeists can experience the Whanganui along a government-designated water trail, which simplifies planning for three- and five-day trips, starting in the community of Taumarunui and finishing in Pipiriki. The river features amazing birdlife, fantastic backcountry camping and rich Indigenous heritage, with local Māori people remaining key river stewards today.
Photo: Ignacio Plaza/Unsplash
16 Futaleufú River, Chile
The Futaleufú is a rite of passage for big water kayakers, featuring aquamarine waters and some of the most powerful rapids on the planet in the wilds of Patagonia. Pro boaters have their own hard-earned secrets about the Futa. For ordinary paddlers, the so-called Bridge to Bridge section of the river serves up (somewhat) less scary class IV water with great play features. Guided rafting trips are also available.
17 Alseseca River, Mexico
The wild rivers and steep creeks of Mexico’s Veracruz region, east of Mexico City, have legendary status amongst whitewater paddlers. In particular, the Big Banana section of the Alseseca River features an incredible series of world-class waterfalls, stacked one after another and surrounded by lush rainforest. Along with this epic section, a handful of other parts of the Alseseca and neighboring waterways make this a dream winter destination for expert boaters.
Westbrook Supply Company owner Fletcher Griffin working his kayak rigging magic. | Feature photo: Westbrook Supply Co.
Tucked up a river mouth on Long Island Sound is a workshop where Joe Harasyko is turning wrenches to modify some seriously tricked-out rides. The creations he is dialing in with lights, electronics and gear aren’t of the four-wheeled variety you’d see rolling out the garage doors in a scene from Vice Grip Garage though. Harasyko is the rigging manager for Black Hall Outfitters, a paddling shop in Old Lyme, Connecticut that does a booming business in customized fishing kayaks. One of two full-time riggers at the shop, Harasyko is in charge of transforming stock kayaks into some of the most elaborate bass sleds you’ve ever set eyes on.
Rig my ride: How kayak customization boosts the bottom line
Black Hall owner Gene Chmiel says the shop has been customizing kayaks for around five years, and as participation in outdoor sports soared the desire for tricked-out fishing kayaks has followed suit. Now it’s a mainstay of his business, with no end in sight.
During that time kayak fishing has continued to grow, both in overall participation and as a share of the recreational fishing market. The Outdoor Industry Foundation reports that 47 million people went fishing in the United States in 2017, of whom five percent fished from kayaks or other non-motorized craft. Five years later in 2022, those figures had grown to 52 million anglers and six percent using kayaks. That’s more than three million kayak anglers in the United States alone.
Westbrook Supply Company owner Fletcher Griffin working his kayak rigging magic. | Feature photo: Westbrook Supply Co.
Customization Goes from Joes to Pros
While some kayak anglers are drawn to the quiet simplicity of a paddle and an old spinning rod, many more get into kayak fishing to catch fish with every bit of high-tech firepower a 14-foot hunk of floating plastic will carry. One look at the multitude of DIY rigging projects on YouTube will prove just how resourceful and obsessive kayak anglers can be. They want kayaks that can go toe-to-toe with full-size fishing boats, and they’re ready to pay expert riggers like the team at Black Hall for them.
“It’s where the sport is going,” Chmiel says, adding that not everyone has the confidence to start drilling holes in perfectly good kayaks. “There’s a small percentage of people willing to do it themselves, but a lot of people are intimidated by it,” he says.
Even with boats that already cost a few thousand dollars off the shelf, Chmiel says custom rigging is a service customers are willing to invest in. He estimates half the kayaks Black Hall sells have some degree of customization. This translates to about 15 rigging jobs per week, with the more elaborate setups pushing the total sale and service toward the $10,000 mark.
Black Hall is one of a growing list of shops around the country building custom fishing kayaks. Another is Westbrook Supply Co. in Atlanta, Georgia. Owner Fletcher Griffin says customizing fishing kayaks has been a part of the business since he opened the shop in 2017, but rigging has really taken off in the last two years. He’s also noticed something interesting in the demographic of anglers who’ve been seeking out builds.
Black Hall Outfitters owner Gene Chmiel (left) and rigging manager Joe Harasyko, (center) turn customer dreams into fish-slaying machines. | Photo: Black Hall Outfitters
NFL Hall of Famer Tedy Bruschi is a happy Black Hall customer, and this is why. | Photo: Black Hall Outfitters
“These elaborate fishing kayaks are pulling people from johnboats and bass boats, not necessarily from a paddling background,” Griffin says. “Guys are coming down from the bass boat world and embracing the kayak scene. A paddler sees the price of these custom kayaks and they may think that sounds like a lot, but it’s all perspective. When you’re coming from a $50,000 bass boat, a fishing kayak is just more economical and there is less to deal with.”
Rigging to the Stars
Shops like Westbrook Supply and Black Hall Outfitters are garnering wide notoriety for their work. Black Hall is shipping boats from Connecticut to buyers as far afield as Texas and Montana. They’ve even done some work for celebrity figures.
In spring 2023, Harasyko built out an Old Town AutoPilot 136 for New England Patriots Hall of Famer Tedy Bruschi. The kayak featured Boonedox Landing Gear, Lowrance radar, a Power-Pole, interior lights, and a spotlight just to get started. The fact Bruschi, who is a boat fisherman as well, is investing this much in a kayak says as much about the work of Black Hall as it does about the rising tide of elaborate kayak builds.
“He found out about us and brought his boat in,” says Chmiel. “Now he’s a friend of the shop and totally into kayak fishing. He’s even recommended us to other NFL players.”
Chmiel, who spent 20 years in marketing prior to starting a kayak shop, sees this as just the beginning to future growth of customizing fishing kayaks.
Black Hall is already fabricating and 3D printing their own parts to fill gaps in what’s available on the market in terms of bars and mounts. For Chmiel, going the route of the car world and rigging these rides was an obvious move for his shop, and one he suggests to other retailers who can support it.
“We saw the opportunity and we’ve been active in pushing it out. Any time in retail you can add those additional sales and have those incremental rings it’s all upsell. The need is there, and it creates a point of difference for the shop.”
This article was first published in the 2024 issue of Paddling Business. Inside you’ll find the year’s hottest gear for canoeing, kayaking, whitewater and paddleboarding. Plus: forty years in the Four Corners, robotic kayak rentals, building the Paddlesports Trade Coalition and more. READ IT NOW »
Westbrook Supply Company owner Fletcher Griffin working his kayak rigging magic. | Feature photo: Westbrook Supply Co.
When faced with a big rapid, kayaker Charles Cailyer first slows his breathing to slow his heart rate. “Then, I think of my mother, who died a couple years ago. I thank her for giving me life and imagine her with me. Then, I focus and I send it.” | Feature photo: Caleb Gingras
Are you superstitious about running big rapids? Or is a ritual you always perform to calm your nerves and conjure up some good river karma prior to a big run? In case you need some luck, we asked nine pro whitewater kayakers share their go-tos.
9 curious superstitions and reliable rituals of pro whitewater kayakers
“Every time I run Spirit Falls, I look up in the sky, throw a handful of water up in the air, and watch each droplet fall back down. I’m asking my paddling buddies who are no longer with us for a soft landing each time.”
—Dave Fusilli
“Treat the river with respect, or it will remind you who’s in control. This means even talking nicely to it. They have found water crystallizes differently depending on the tone and what you’re saying to it. Mean and angry = non-symmetrical crystals. Kind and nice = beautiful symmetrical crystals. Every time I paddle, I focus on gratitude and sometimes even talk to my surroundings.”
—Emily Jackson
“I have this weird little eddyline thing on my home run, which is an unnamed rock 200 yards above Upper Zigzag on the Truss on the White Salmon River, and I tell myself my line through that little weird eddyline will be an indicator of how good my line on the next main rapid (Zigzag) will be. It’s probably pretty accurate since it’s a test of how well I’m paddling that day.”
—Leif Anderson
“I splash my face three times before any big rapid.”
—Mariann Saether
“Always put your kayak on the car going the correct way—facing forward, the way you want to go kayaking.”
—Adriene Levknecht
“Don’t spit in the water. I never spit in the water. I always think the river might throw some river karma at me if I do.”
—Mike Dawson
“River karma. We all have positive and negative behaviors on the river. When too many people are loose and unsafe, accidents happen within the community. Most of the time, it doesn’t make any sense; it’s unfair, random and tragic. I believe that, in some ways, we all have our own responsibilities. Every time someone gets lucky, someone else might not get away with a bad line or hidden hazard. I call it river karma, but I guess it’s more a probabilistic approach to whitewater accidents.”
—Nouria Newman
“Anointing your kayak with burning sage.”
—Natalie Anderson
“I always check my sprayskirt before leaving the eddy after I’ve scouted or left the boat. It’s not like I didn’t check it immediately after pulling it over the cockpit rim, but I check it again. Maybe that’s idiosyncratic more than superstitious, but I feel slightly off if I don’t. Also, when in doubt, I portage that stout with my boat always on the riverside shoulder, which I think is a strategy as much as superstition.”
When faced with a big rapid, kayaker Charles Cailyer first slows his breathing to slow his heart rate. “Then, I think of my mother, who died a couple years ago. I thank her for giving me life and imagine her with me. Then, I focus and I send it.” | Feature photo: Caleb Gingras
This article was first published in the Spring 2024 issue of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
When faced with a big rapid, kayaker Charles Cailyer first slows his breathing to slow his heart rate. “Then, I think of my mother, who died a couple years ago. I thank her for giving me life and imagine her with me. Then, I focus and I send it.” | Feature photo: Caleb Gingras
The nomination of this expedition paddler was nearly unanimous—Can you guess who? | Feature photo: Jaime sharp
Following his successful transatlantic expedition, kayaker Peter Bray said, “If somebody says something can’t be done, I like to know why it can’t be done, and then prove it can be.” This sentiment echoes through the motivations of some of the most extraordinary kayaking expeditions, inspiring journeys that push not just physical and mental boundaries, but also the limits of what we believe is possible.
Drawing on the nominations from more than a dozen of today’s most accomplished expedition paddlers, we’ve curated a list of some of the most remarkable journeys by double blade in the past 25 years. While few of us will ever attempt such daring trips, these stories inspire us to question our own limits and fuel the spirit of adventure.
We’ve ranked the following expeditions in reverse order, saving the best for last. What do you think? Tell us how you’d rank these expeditions and about the journeys we missed.
Greatest kayaking expeditions of the century (so far)
The Svalbard team encountered 39 polar bears on their circumnavigation. | Photo: Jaime Sharp
11 Svalbard circumnavigation
The 3,000 polar bear inhabitants of the Arctic Ocean’s Svalbard archipelago outnumber its human residents. The bears are why the first recorded circumnavigation of Svalbard’s four main islands—by Jaime Sharp, Tara Mulvany and Per Gustav Porsanger in 2015—was preceded by 20 years of failed attempts and near deaths.
“This expedition was not just about whether you can paddle long days but can you manage polar bears and not be eaten—an outcome that ended the previous attempt in 2009,” says Sharp. “Can you paddle 160 kilometers of nonstop glacial cliffs and manage sea ice movements, all encompassed within an already hefty paddle of 2,300 kilometers, over three months, and needing to be completed before winter storms return?”
“The trio was chased by polar bears and had to out-paddle them on the water. Enough said.”
—Editors
The Henry brothers’ 6,500-kilometer route is among the longest modern sea kayaking journeys. | Photo: Courtesy Graham Henry
10 Brazil to Florida
In 2014, brothers Russell, 21, and Graham Henry, 23, paddled from Brazil to Florida, charting 6,500 kilometers over seven months. The inspiration was Russell’s expedition planning class at university, which required designing a dream trip. Why not make it a reality?
The two Canadian brothers set out in their Current Designs Nomad GTSs from Belem, Brazil, at the mouth of the Amazon River. After paddling 2,400 kilometers up the South American coastline, they island-hopped up the Lesser Antilles to Anguilla before heading west to the Dominican Republic. From there, they had the two longest crossings of the trip—upward of 150 kilometers—to Turks and Caicos and then Florida.
The journey spanned 25 countries and territories and threw everything imaginable at the brothers, from a diverse and ever-changing cultural landscape to the obvious obstacle of rough sea conditions to the physical demands of paddling stretches of up to 27 hours straight. The brothers avoided pirates, stayed on Richard Branson’s private island, and became the first kayakers since John Dowd’s 1979 expedition to cross the Caribbean Sea. They were also the only paddlers to do so in solo kayaks.
Ten years later, Russell is an expedition guide, and Graham is an attorney. “This trip really cracked open our idea of what we could accomplish, both in the outdoors and in life,” says Graham. “We can shoot big and, no matter the challenge, probably make it work.”
“The Henry brothers did a cool trip. Impressive for their youth. It was a great comparison with a trip we did—they had the technology, and it made such a difference, I could follow them live.”
—John Dowd, 1979 Caribbean crossing
The Amazon Express expedition team paddle down the Ucayali River in Peru, the headstream of the Amazon River. | Photo: Erich Schlegel
Darcy Gaechter, Don Beveridge and David Midgley in 2013. | Photo: Courtesy Darcy Gaechter
There are endless difficulties in a source-to-sea descent of the Amazon River: complex logistics, class V rapids, subzero temperatures at altitude followed by heavy heat, intense rain and swarming insects, jungle rot, river pirates and drug cartels. That didn’t deter these two impressive 21st-century teams.
In 2012, West Hansen led the first expedition to paddle the 4,200-mile Amazon River from its most distant trickle high in the Peruvian Andes to the Atlantic Ocean in Brazil. The Amazon Express team rafted and kayaked the entire distance in 111 days. “In completing the route, the team helped establish a new source of the Amazon River, objectively recognizing it almost 200 miles longer than the Nile River,” said expedition lead Hansen.
The following year, Darcy Gaechter, Don Beveridge and David Midgley kayaked the length of Amazon River over 148 days. Gaechter was the first—and still only—woman to descend the Amazon source to the sea. And the only vegan, too, she says.
“My whole life, people have told me I can’t, or shouldn’t, do things because of my gender and stature. For example, I wanted to be a raft guide and a kayaker—even though I’m a girl and really little—and people told me it probably wasn’t a great idea,” Gaechter told Paddling Magazine in 2020 about her newly published book, Amazon Woman. “A big motivation for writing my book was to share this story that you can overcome other people’s ideas about you. I hope it will encourage others to figure out their passion and chase it.”
“When Hansen, Gaechter and their teams started their trips, more people had walked on the moon than had traversed the Amazon from source to sea. The number was tied at 12 each when these journeys were complete.”
—Editors
The Arctic Cowboys completed the first single-season human-powered traverse of the Northwest Passage in 2023. | Photo: Courtesy The Arctic Cowboys
7 The Northwest Passage
Though it has been attempted many times, no recorded expedition had successfully navigated the Northwest Passage by human power in a single season until the Arctic Cowboys team in 2023. For centuries, European sailors sought the route between Baffin Bay and the Beaufort Sea for a quicker trade route to Asia, and the Passage is at the heart of many historical Arctic voyages and expedition lore.
“The conditions were rough. Rescue was precarious and unlikely. There was only one resupply point,” says Cowboys’ expedition leader West Hansen. “Purely self-propelled, the team fended off polar bears, severe storms, team strife and being almost crushed by sea ice twice.” Read more about the Cowboys’ expedition here.
“The Arctic Cowboys’ Northwest Passage trip is an epic journey. It also shows how much the Arctic is changing due to warmth. A journey once impossible to do in one season [due to sea ice] has now been done. It is an impressive feat, though also a sobering one.”
—Jaime Sharp, 2015 Svalbard circumnavigation
Jon Turk and Erik Boomer traveled 2,200 kilometers around Ellesmere Island by ski and paddle. | Photo: Erik Boomer
6 Ellesmere circumnavigation
In 2011, Jon Turk and Erik Boomer completed the first circumnavigation of Ellesmere Island in Canada’s Arctic. Nearly the same size as Great Britain, it was a retirement trip for Turk, then 65.
Turk and whitewater kayaker Boomer, 26, began by hauling their 300-pound, 13.5-foot plastic kayaks across 1,300 kilometers of sea ice on skis. On the island’s northeast coast, the ice pack formed 30-foot-high pressure ridges the men were forced to lift and lower their kayaks over. By midsummer, the ice opened, and they could paddle.
During their 104 days, the team had way-too-close encounters with polar bears (one ripped open their tent), walruses (one almost capsized Boomer’s kayak), crushing sea ice and even kidney failure.
“After the first day, I wrote in my journal, ‘Completed: 15 miles. To Go: 1,485.’ Then I took a quick mental survey of all the aches and pains throughout my body and concluded, I’m 65 years old, and there was no way I could complete the circumnavigation,” Turk said to Paddling Magazine after the expedition in 2011. “I thought seriously about saying to Boomer, ‘This is really dumb. I can’t do this. I’m going to turn back tomorrow morning. Sorry.’ But I couldn’t end my career so ignominiously.”
More than three months and 2,200 kilometers later, Turk and Boomer completed the treacherous journey. Read more about the expedition here.
“A really committing, grueling trip with two amazing adventurers.”
Peter Bray was the first kayaker to cross the Atlantic from west to east. | Photo: Alamy.com
5 North Atlantic crossing
In 2001, Peter Bray, a former special forces sergeant from Cornwall, United Kingdom, embarked on an expedition to cross the North Atlantic solo, paddling from Newfoundland, Canada, to Ireland in a custom-built 27-foot-long kayak.
Bray paddled more than 4,800 kilometers during his 76 days at sea. The journey was marked by treacherous weather conditions, which at times confined him to his six-foot by 30-inch cabin where he lay while waves up to 26 feet crashed over the kayak. Conditions were so abysmal Bray glimpsed the stars on just a single night. He lost 40 pounds, and severe weather repeatedly set him off course and depleted his solar-powered batteries until he was without communication.
Before Bray, only two kayakers had crossed the Atlantic. Both Franz Romer, in 1928, and Hannes Lindemann, in 1956, paddled east to west in modified Kleppers. In crossing west to east, Bray paddled without the help of trade winds.
His successful crossing came on the heels of a disastrous first attempt. In 2000, Bray’s expedition was cut short on its second day. A faulty valve flooded his kayak, leaving him adrift in a leaky life raft and immersed in the frigid North Atlantic for 37 hours while awaiting rescue. It took him months to learn to walk again. But Bray remained undeterred.
“The Atlantic was mind over matter and shows if you put your mind to it, you can achieve your goal. Seventy-six days alone in a kayak. No land,” he reiterates. Bray raised money for two charities along the way.
“His tenacity to try again after his near-fatal first attempt is a testament to true grit.”
—Editors
Justine Curgenven and Sarah Outen’s Aleutian Islands journey involved long, exposed crossings in cold, rough, remote seas. | Photo: Justine Curgenven
4 Crossing the Aleutians
The notoriously stormy Aleutian Islands chain stretches like a beaded necklace from Russia to Alaska. Justine Curgenven and Sarah Outen’s 2014 journey marked the first modern-day kayak crossing of the 2,500-kilometer remote archipelago. Over 101 days, they confronted more than 20 crossings between sparsely populated islands in cold, remote and rough seas—they also contended with bears and Outen’s inexperience. “We had three days of crossings where we paddled over 47 nautical miles (87 kilometers), and each took more than 15 hours,” says Curgenven.
“The Aleutians was a very, very good expedition. There are big tidal rips and very steep waves when the tide changes. You have a big wave of water, 29,000 feet deep, washing up onto a shallow continental shelf. It stacks up with nowhere to go. Hats off to Justine.”
—Jon Turk, 2000 Pacific Rim crossing
As if that wasn’t enough, Curgenven added a new dimension of challenge by filming the entire expedition. The adventure is captured in the feature-length Kayaking The Aleutians. The three-month adventure was just a chapter in Outen’s ambitious six-year quest to circumnavigate the globe using human power—kayaking, rowing and cycling, primarily solo.
“I am likely biased because I was part of it and know how challenging it was to kayak with a relative beginner kayaker on multiple uncharted crossings in one of the stormiest places on Earth, hundreds of miles from outside help,” says Curgenven. “Sarah is an example of what you can do with resilience and determination.”
Aleksander Doba paddles out of New York Harbor in Olo, his live-aboard kayak that measured 23 feet long and rose almost five feet above the waterline. | Photo: David Jackson
3 Atlantic hat trick
Bronzed, bearded and sinewy, Polish grandfather Aleksander Doba (1946–2021) paddled across the Atlantic three times, and he did it all in his seventh decade. The first expedition was from Senegal to Brazil over 99 days in 2011, the second from Portugal to Florida over 167 days in 2014, and finally from New Jersey to France over 110 days in 2017, at the age of 70.
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“On the first expedition, I faced more than 50 tropical storms; otherwise, it was pretty quiet. The second crossing was more than twice as long and much more difficult. I lost communication for 47 days. I was plagued by strong winds that trapped me for 40 nights in the Bermuda Triangle. Then a storm broke the kayak’s rudder,” Doba told Paddling Magazine in 2014. On the same voyage, his desalinator broke, forcing him to hand pump water four hours a day.
Things often didn’t go according to plan on Doba’s expeditions. Repairs required all his ingenuity as a retired mechanical engineer. Storms blew him all over, but often backward. Saltwater, heat and humidity irritated his skin, so he sometimes paddled naked. His 23-foot-long, self-righting kayak weighed nearly 1,500 pounds when loaded with supplies and required Doba to sleep in a fetal position in the boat’s airtight cabin, which he affectionately called the casket.
Storms were frequent and Doba often faced waves over 21 feet high. But he was joyful for the adventure, fearful of being “an average old man with nothing going on.” Living life to the fullest until the very end, Doba died on the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro at the age of 74.
“He was crazy enough to do it not once but three times. Nobody else has done that. And he was 70 years young during his third Atlantic crossing—he encouraged older people to get up off the couch and do something exciting with life.”
—Piotr Chmielinski, 1985 Amazon River first descent
“We eked out 54 miles over the next four days, tackling diabolical headwinds, running blind through incessant fog, and landing and launching through treacherous surf.” —Jon Turk, In The Wake of the Joman. | Photo: Jon Turk
2 Japan to Alaska
Beginning in 1999 and finishing in late 2000, Jon Turk traveled 4,800 kilometers across the North Pacific, from the northern tip of Hokkaido, Japan, along Siberia’s Kuril Islands and Kamchatka Peninsula to the 65th parallel and crossed to Alaska. The expedition is one of the most legendary kayak journeys of all time. It also tested the hypothesis Stone Age humans migrated by paddlecraft from modern-day Japan to North America, which Turk wrote about in his book, In The Wake of the Jomon.
“It’s some of the most tempestuous waters in the world,” says Turk, who sailed a small trimaran in the expedition’s first season and paddled a 17-foot Prijon Kodiak in its second. Turk and expedition partner Franz Helfenstein were caught in a whirlpool for 36 hours during the first leg of the journey. Turk was joined by Chris Seashore and Misha Petrov for the expedition’s second season. Of the 18-hour crossing to St. Lawrence Island in the Bering Strait, Turk says: “The current was pushing us, the winds were coming up, and we were getting blown off. We fought for our lives on that one.”
“Greatest due to the remoteness, especially long crossings, technical paddling with surf landings, general exposure, and overall logistics. It’s also a great story.”
—Frank Wolf, expedition paddler
“When I think back, I think of the storms, the coastlines, the fatigue; all those things happen on any long sea kayak expedition,” says Turk, who is now 78 and spent last winter in Arizona, living out of his van with his wife and mountain biking every day. “But I also think of my transformational relationship with nature. At the time, I was sponsored by The North Face and Polartec and thought this expedition would further my career. I ended up a dramatically changed person instead.” Turk returned to Siberia for the following five years to explore the connection between science, wilderness and mysticism, which he wrote about in his book, The Raven’s Gift.
Freya Hoffmeister arrived back in Buenos Aires, Argentina, on May 1, 2015, after paddling 27,000 kilometers around South America. | Photo: Courtesy Freya Hoffmeister
1 Around South America
Freya Hoffmeister’s record-smashing expeditions—mostly solo and unsupported—have taken her around countries and continents. The self-described Goddess of Love to the Seas has probably logged more expedition miles than any paddler ever. Hoffmeister set records around Iceland and New Zealand’s south island in 2007 and Australia in 2009. Between 2011 and 2015, her 27,000-kilometer circumnavigation of South America spanned 13 countries, stretching from the Panama Canal to Cape Horn, and crossed the equator twice. She spent most nights in a tent and was self-sufficient for weeks at a time. Hoffmeister took two breaks between legs of her journey to recuperate back in Germany, where she owns two ice cream shops.
There were many intense moments on Hoffmeister’s South American epic: one was an emergency crash landing and waiting out 60-knot winds near Cape Horn, the infamous southernmost tip of South America. Brazil’s Pororoca tidal bore at the mouth of the Amazon was another: “I thought I would wait for the tide coming in, but it came in rough. Within 15 minutes, it had side-surfed me for eight kilometers. I was afraid for my life.”
“It is an incomparable trip and will never be achieved again—as much as my ongoing circumnavigation of North America,” says Hoffmeister, 59, who is now roughly halfway through a 48,000-kilometer, decade-long journey to circumnavigate the North American continent.
“For the scale, ambition and dogged determination, plus the fact no one else has even attempted such a long undertaking—Freya’s overall goal of ticking off the continents one by one is unparalleled.”
Paddling Mag curated this list based on nominations gathered from a panel of accomplished expedition paddlers. The number of nominations received determined each expedition’s ranking on the list.
This article was first published in the Spring 2024 issue of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
The nomination of this expedition paddler was nearly unanimous—can you guess who? | Feature photo: Jaime Sharp
We are seeing one of the most exciting periods of whitewater kayak design yet. As river running technique continues to evolve and meld with the “play the river” mentality, boat manufacturers are innovating in hot pursuit. Two of the most successful whitewater brands have recently dropped their latest progressive whitewater designs, The Pyranha Reactr and the Dagger Indra. Here with an initial side-by-side comparison is Simon Coward, owner of AQ Outdoors (AQ Outdoors is a paddling shop and school with locations in Calgary and Edmonton). The following is a transcript of Coward’s review.
I’m really excited to be checking in with a quick, first thoughts review on the new Pyranha ReactR and Dagger Indra kayaks. In full transparency, I’ve only really paddled these on Class II to easy class II whitewater but I am starting to form some thoughts around both of the boats.
Right off the bat I would say they’re very unique and perform quite differently. I’ve tried both sizes of the Indra, and at the moment we only have the medium ReactR available, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be paddling anything larger than that because it is a fairly big feeling medium boat.
The Pyranha ReactR. | Image: AQ Outdoors
A look at the Pyranha ReactR
I’ll start with the ReactR. My first thoughts on the new outfitting is that Pyranha really hit the mark. I’ve been a huge Dagger outfitting fan for a long time and still am but I feel Pyranha have gone a long way to bridging the gap as far as the quality and comfort of their outfitting.
My first thoughts on the ReactR in flatwater is it’s super loose. It pivots under the seat really quickly and I could see it giving newer paddlers a bit of a hard time because it would be quite hard to control. But for a more advanced paddler that nimbleness when translated into moving water was really dynamic and super fun to paddle.
There’s the obvious bow rocker in the ReactR that skipped up and over everything that we threw at it—which was admittedly very small. Because I haven’t paddled anything harder in it yet it’s hard to speak too much to the stern rocker, but the stern profile did make it very easy to sweep the bow up and over small waves and features, so I imagine that will translate very well into harder whitewater.
The one thing I really did like about the ReactR was doing bowdraws. If you keep the boat flat during a bow draw the boat turns very very quickly and very dynamically and it’s very easy to accelerate out of those turns.
The last thing of note for me is the ReactR felt like a boat that was very comfortable to paddle flat which I really enjoy. The stern was not super grabby. It has a distinctly non-Pyranha feeling stern to me—sort of softer edges and such. Because I haven’t paddled it in anything harder yet it’s really hard to say much around what I don’t like. These are more just cursory observations about how the boat performed in easy class II.
The Dagger Indra. | Image: AQ Outdoors
The Dagger Indra
Next, the Dagger Indra. So I’ve paddled this on some bigger class III on the Elk River in Fernie and here at Harvey Passage in some mellow class II. I’ve also paddled both the sizes, and I would say my initial thoughts are: I love the boat.
The new thigh hooks in the dagger outfitting are a huge win for sure They give you more control and more engagement with the boat overall. In the small/medium the stern is definitely a bit more grabby than the ReactR. In the larger version the stern stays high and dry, and I would be very comfortable paddling it in harder class IV and even easy class V.
From an observation standpoint watching some other young strong paddlers use the Indra, I think for advanced boaters it would be a boat that would very easily translate into a class V environment. The ability to pull the bow up and over some rather large foamy features was really quite remarkable and there was never any inclination that it was going to back loop. The boat was getting close to vertical and just riding up and over some quite big holes and waves which is really neat to see. It’s a very modern style of paddling that is super fun.
One thing with the Indra that was very different feeling to the ReactR is coming out of an eddyturn, or a carve, it tends to want to be on edge a little bit more, and it’ll sort of slingshot that speed more effectively than the ReactR. The ReactR tends to spin out a little bit and wash out, whereas the Indra wants to carve and drive and continue that speed. If you like paddling your boat on edge the Indra will probably feel more familiar. If you like paddling the boat flat the ReactR is probably going to feel a bit more comfortable to you.
Again, with the Indra I haven’t really been able to formulate anything I don’t like about it because these first thoughts are very much just commentary around what we’ve seen, and I haven’t really been able to lean into the real nitty-gritty of the boat. I’ll check back in in a little while with some more thoughts and feedback on that, but overall it is definitely a new segment in whitewater. They haven’t just made minor changes, the boats do feel very different and I’m excited to paddle them more.
AQ Outdoors offers retail and kayak instruction in Calgary and Edmonton. Learn more about their school and stores at AQOutdoors.com.
The adventure of a lifetime or a life lived adventurously? | Feature photo: Virginia Marshall
Lately, I’ve noticed a pernicious gap between the trips I imagine going on—the big, ambitious ones—and the ones I have the time and resources to actually do.
This tends to be very discouraging, to the point I’m tempted just to stay home and try to do something useful. As common as it is to hear the advice to dream big, I believe adventure ambitions are more like a fire that will never grow if you load it with too much heavy fuel. Like my dream of kayaking for three months in Patagonia that just won’t ignite in the somewhat hypoxic environment of my full-time job and empty bank account. Fortunately, there is a solution to this disheartening condition, the best-ever tinder fuel to hack your adventure ambitions—microadventures.
Microadventures could save your soul from the grind of modern living
“A microadventure is an adventure that is short, simple, local, cheap—yet still fun, exciting, challenging, refreshing and rewarding,” explains Alastair Humphreys, the British adventurer who coined the term and wrote a book of the same title.
The adventure of a lifetime or a life lived adventurously? | Feature photo: Virginia Marshall
Although the concept of microadventures has been around for more than a decade, it is especially important now. Our era of cheap global travel and the glorification of exotic trips on social media has created rampant destination inflation that has cheapened shorter and more accessible trips. We’ve become so saturated with stories of other people’s grand expeditions we’ve become disenchanted with the smaller, local adventure opportunities all around us, the trips we can afford to squeeze in and around “the margins of real life,” as Humphreys puts it. We forget how worthwhile a paddle on a nearby lake or sleeping under the stars in a local park can be because those activities typically don’t garner accolades, nor the sponsorships to write and talk about them.
How Humphreys hit on his micro idea
Alastair Humphreys first came to prominence as an adventurer biking around the world, rowing oceans and walking across India. In 2011, he concluded all the things he loved about those extreme adventures—being in nature, going to new places, having fun and challenging himself—could be done equally well close to home.
“All those things are just a mindset; they’re in your head,” Humphreys says. “It doesn’t matter what you do. You just have to find a way, within the framework of your own life, to get out regularly, do a bit of exercise and get out into nature.”
Paddle at sunrise, cannonball into a lake, walk under a full moon, have a fire on the beach, identify birds—anything can be a microadventure.
The idea caught on. Humphreys went on to write two more books about microadventuring. His latest, Local, was published earlier this year and chronicled a year of exploring a different grid square on a map of his local area each week. The map’s square area was just 20 kilometers across.
There is an appetite for these stories because they unlock something so accessible yet forgotten: a treasure chest buried at our feet. They are the perfect antidote to destination inflation, reminding us there is a very rewarding match between the adventures we have the capacity to achieve and the satisfaction that can result from doing them.
A daily date with adventure
I discovered this principle before I’d heard of Humphreys. In 2021, I set a goal of running or paddling 10 kilometers a day for 100 days straight. I’d just come home from a two-week paddling trip that had ignited something inside me. I was tired of living below my capacity, not taking risks and spending too much time inside. My 100-day plan seemed so unimpressive compared to what the people on social media were up to, like doing 100 Ironmans in a row, that I wasn’t sure it was worth the bother. Yet, at the same time, I had so many doubts—could I even do it? What if I got injured or sick? The endeavor was just uncertain enough to spark my curiosity.
“When your regular 9 to 5 working day finishes, then begins the 5 to 9.”
—Alastair Humphreys
For a couple of weeks, it seemed like 100 days would never end. Gradually the 10 kilometers became something I just did each day, like brushing my teeth. I’d stop for trail runs by headlamp on the 5 a.m. commute to work. I joined my town’s Wednesday night group run. I met a friend for a hair-raising whitewater paddle after a rainstorm flooded our local river.
I loved the way my adventuring side hustle blurred the edges between a wild and free version of myself and the person I was at home, between the adventurous and the domestic. Stumbling through the mud, half-lost in the forest at one moment, home cooking dinner the next, I lived two lives like my great-great-grandfather, a sea captain, who was reputed to have wives and families on two continents. But minus the adultery and deception.
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My microadventures, all 100 of them, inspired me in unexpected ways. I realized my preoccupation with other people’s accomplishments had blinded me to how short a stretch was required to exceed my own limitations. To arrive in a new place, you don’t have to go farther than anybody else; you just have to take one step beyond where you currently are. I got tired but was amazed by my body’s ability to adapt, plateau, ache and strain, and then adapt again. I got leaner and faster. I didn’t make a splash on social media, but I felt like people looked at me differently, and the experience filled me with a new feeling of potential. What more can I do? I wondered.
My daily commitment was a humble and undemanding habit asking very little of me, but it paid multitudes in return, a portal into a more abundant and expansive way of being each day. As Annie Dillard writes in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, “The great door opens on the present, illuminates it as with a multitude of flashing torches.”
The magic faded when my 100-day streak ended. Here is where it helps to follow Humphreys’ advice to schedule microadventures into your life. Like the tourist attractions you never bother to visit in your hometown, microadventures are too easy to put off if you don’t approach them deliberately.
“One way I started doing that was to put into my diary, the first Wednesday of every month, ‘Go climb a tree,’” Humphreys explains. Another of his recommendations is to regularly sleep outside on a local hill—even on weeknights. “When your regular 9 to 5 working day finishes, then begins the 5 to 9 overnight microadventure time.”
There’s no reason to say these small trips have to replace larger ones. I hope microadventuring is a gateway to reintroducing bigger adventures into my life—maybe even a kayak trip in Patagonia.
Then again, maybe small is good enough.
“I would never speak against people aspiring towards the adventure of a lifetime,” says Humphreys. “What microadventure offers up is the opportunity for a lifetime of living adventurously, just a little bit every day.”
Tim Shuff is a sea kayaker, firefighter and former editor of Adventure Kayak magazine.
This article was first published in the Spring 2024 issue of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
The adventure of a lifetime or a life lived adventurously? | Feature photo: Virginia Marshall
This article was first published in the Spring 2024 issue of Paddling Magazine. 
This article was first published in the 2024 issue of Paddling Business. Inside you’ll find the year’s hottest gear for canoeing, kayaking, whitewater and paddleboarding. Plus: forty years in the Four Corners, robotic kayak rentals, building the Paddlesports Trade Coalition and more. 
