Erik Weihenmayer isn’t your average kayaker. The 44-year-old recently made official his quest to become the first blind person to paddle the Grand Canyon in 2014.
Weihenmayer is not new to firsts. The adventurer and motivational speaker was the first blind person to climb Mount Everest in 2001 and conquered the Seven Summits in 2008. He’s also an accom- plished alpine skier, rock climber and marathon runner. All of those achievements have helped prepare him for his hardest challenge yet.
“Kayaking is way more intense than anything I’ve ever done. So much is happening in such a short amount of time,” he says. “Learn- ing to ski was hard, but the ground doesn’t move below you.”
The whitewater learning curve over the past six years has been steep and left Weihenmayer uncertain and scared at times. “There’s moments where I’m swimming through a rapid and I wonder, what am I doing here—there’s a reason there are no other blind kayakers in the world,” says Weihenmayer.
He kayaks with a spotter who either yells instructions or communi- cates via waterproof radio. There’s usually at least one other paddler for backup and occasionally a kayaker out front, picking lines. He has only praise for his growing team of boaters who “have to line me up and anticipate what the river will do and where the river will take me.” He prefers paddling big water, as opposed to small creeks and technical runs that require precise lines.
“I still have that sense of going into something crazy before a rapid,” he says. “It’s pretty daunting. I’d like to see if that changes with more experience, if I will eventually feel like I can handle anything.”
KAYAKING IS A MENTAL GAME
In April, Weihenmayer completed a successful 12-day reconnaissance trip to the Grand Canyon before he committed himself to going back on a 225-mile, 20-day trip in September 2014. “The very first day, the very first rapid was bigger than anything I’d ever done. I did pretty well—I survived, I got sucked into whirlpools but managed to roll up, and that gave me confidence.”
Weihenmayer says his biggest challenge will be endurance. “Kayaking is such a mental game for me so I get fatigued. I can get flipped on easy, no-name rapids just because I wasn’t expecting it.
“Rivers are very complicated from a blind person’s perspective. The way currents and rapids form, they create a very wild, fast, un- certain and powerful environment,” he adds.
Even after next year’s Grand Canyon run, Weihenmayer expects to be hooked on kayaking for life—it’s something his whole family, including his two children, can enjoy, even from a raft. “We can all challenge ourselves in different ways, that’s the cool part about rivers.”
This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2013 issue of Rapid Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Rapid’s print and digital editions here
Some paddling pros are turning heads by switching things up on their favorite runs, literally. Riding switch—or paddling backwards—got some attention at the 2012 Green Race when Dane Jackson and Pat Keller did the full short boat race looking over their shoulders.
For Jackson, paddling backwards is just another way to get more thrills out of the sport, which is why he’s been hooked since he first tried it in 2011. “Switch can turn your home river into an intense run,” he says, “and it makes every river a new river because you’re seeing it in a way you never have before.”
“Switch has become a hot new trend,” says 2009 World Freestyle Kayak Champion, Nick Troutman. “Paddlers are running extremely hard whitewater switch,” he says, but people were paddling backwards long before its recent spike in publicity. When he was first learning freestyle, Troutman spent a whole summer paddling backwards after hearing that it could improve his moves. He and Jackson did a switch run of the Alseseca after a race last winter and Troutman blogged that it was a “whole new challenge after mastering the lines forwards.”
RIDING SWITCH IS NOT JUST FOR THE PROS
But riding switch isn’t just for people who have mastered class V forwards or are trying to win the Worlds. According to Troutman, changing the direction of paddle strokes can help strengthen shoulder muscles and it’s a great way to increase overall awareness and boat control—a skill that can build towards freestyle tricks with enough practice. Plus, he says, you’ll be glad to have tried it when you end up riding switch accidentally. “I remember years ago having to use an emergency back boof. Trust me, at the bottom of the drop I was glad I had practiced paddling backwards.”
For Jackson, switch kayaking is a lot like C1 creekboating. “It’s tough to convince someone how much fun it really is. It’s unsettling at first, scary, out of control, and you will probably crash quite a bit.” But, he adds, after enough practice anyone can get comfortable riding switch, and will probably have a blast doing it.
Will we see backwards runs creep their way into the competition scene? Probably not, though Jackson thinks the Green Race is the perfect place to add a switch class. He says it’s more likely that the style will stay unofficial and that people will keep looking at him like he’s crazy when he plows past the finish line backwards.
This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2013 issue of Rapid Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Rapid’s print and digital editions here
My kayak was full of water. We were over a mile from shore when I made this unsettling observation. Already overloaded with two hundred pounds of food, camping gear and camera equipment, I hadn’t noticed my shrinking freeboard until now. Through my dry suit, I felt something bob against my thigh. With the waves continuously crashing over my deck, I called to Spencer and Daniel to raft up next to me. Pumping furiously, we bailed the frigid North Pacific only slightly faster than it poured in.
Reaching one of Douglas Channel’s scarce beaches, I carefully pulled my boat up on the slippery rocks to drain the flooded front hatch and cockpit, noticing the foam bulkhead between the two was not properly sealed. Still, I was thankful the worst was over. Then the bag containing our satellite phone and tide charts washed out, full of seawater.
With our primary means of communication destroyed (we carried an emergency transmitter for back-up) and our charts ruined, we had a difficult decision to make: return to the small Haisla community of Kitamaat Village where we had begun our trip just hours before, or continue as planned eight days into the remote coastal wilderness of the Great Bear Rainforest.
Adventure—and controversy—in the Great Bear Rainforest
The largest temperate rainforest in the world, the Great Bear covers 70,000 square kilometers along the northern B.C. coast. When we had planned this trip two months before, I realized just how little I knew about this remarkable wilderness, despite its position at the center of an environmental debate surrounding the proposed Northern Gateway pipeline.
The Great Bear is the largest temperate rainforest in the world. | Photo: Paul Manning-Hunter
If completed, the pipeline will pump oil from the Alberta Tar Sands across Alberta and British Columbia to the Pacific Ocean where it can be loaded into tankers and shipped to Asia. Proponents of the project say it is necessary in order to diversify the markets available for Alberta oil, while opponents claim that it will bring toxic crude through sensitive and pristine ecosystems where a leak would have devastating effects.
Environmental controversy isn’t new in this region. Neither are grassroots initiatives: the actions of small groups of people have already foiled bids to clearcut log, trophy grizzly hunt and open net salmon farm in the Great Bear. Eager to discover the area for myself, I also wanted to share our adventure so that others who couldn’t make the trip would be better informed on the Northern Gateway issue. Packing video equipment, I hoped to document some of North America’s most rare and majestic animals including spirit bears, cougars, grizzlies, dolphins and whales.
“Our sea kayaking experience was essentially zero.”
Friends for 20 years, Spencer Taft, Daniel Robb and I grew up within a few blocks of each other. We live much farther apart now, but our shared interest in nature and adventure keeps us close. Taft is pursuing his Masters of Ecology after returning from three months of hitchhiking from Kosovo to Lithuania. Robb spends his summers as a canoe guide in the Northwest Territories and his winters ski patrolling and guiding in British Columbia. He is one of the few people to complete the 20-day, 320-kilometer ski traverse along the Great Divide between Jasper and Lake Louise. Whitewater kayaking since age four, I paddle on the Canadian National Whitewater Slalom Team and train in the steep, beautiful rivers that cascade through the Rocky Mountains.
It was Robb who first mentioned the Great Bear. He told us that, when he took a recent fishing trip to the area, the Native community at Hartley Bay was protesting the plan to ship oil from the mainland through 150 kilometers of narrow, twisting and frequently stormy channels. The proposed route included the area where B.C. Ferries’ flagship Queen of the North crashed into Gil Island and sank on a gusty night in 2006. The Natives claimed that if a similar accident happened involving one of the oil tankers, the resulting spill would devastate the ecosystem their community has relied upon for thousands of years.
Talking it over, we agreed that together we were uniquely suited for an expedition through the Great Bear. I had two decades of kayaking experience, Spencer had extensive knowledge of the flora and fauna we would encounter, and Daniel had expertise preparing for multiday adventures. There was just one little problem—our combined sea kayaking experience was essentially zero.
High spirits, rough water
We started our trip near the city of Kitimat, where the proposed tanker route would begin. An industrial town planned and built by aluminum smelting giant Alcan in the 1950s, Kitimat is not commonly used as a departure point for kayak trips so there’s no paddle shop. Luckily, we found a passionate advocate for the rainforest in Joe Paolinelli, owner of Skeena Kayaking in Prince Rupert. Paolinelli had boats and equipment waiting for us in Kitimat, but in our inexperience we didn’t grab enough waterproof neoprene hatch covers, which is how our satphone arrived at its salty demise.
After sealing my leaking hatch with duct tape and a garbage bag, we were in high spirits as we navigated the rough water of Douglas Channel, drinking in the warm air and spectacular scenery. One of the area’s most beautiful features is also one of its most significant hazards—the shoreline is predominantly vertical rock cliffs with impenetrable vegetation beginning at the high tide mark. Getting off the water is often impossible.
Kayaking through this flooded mountain range, we wondered what might be gazing back at us from the thick curtain of woods. The Kermode, or spirit bear, is a black bear that possesses a recessive gene rendering it completely white. Found only in this area, the ghostly bears feature in Native folklore and the hope of spotting one fishing for salmon spawning up the creeks kept us close to shore.
A cabin offers welcome refuge at Hugh Creek. | Photo: Paul Manning-Hunter
Out of their element (L-R): Paul Manning-Hunter, Daniel Robb and Spencer Taft. | Photo: Paul Manning-Hunter
Shedding a little light in the darkness. | Photo: Paul Manning-Hunter
Eager to support our film project, the Haisla community had given us permission to use the tiny trapper’s cabins they have built throughout the region. The cabins are only eight feet by 10 feet and locating them amongst the thick vegetation was difficult. Reaching Coste Island, we couldn’t find the cabin at all and ended up tenting on a cliff overlooking the distant lights of Kitimat.
Nothing dries in the rainforest
The Coste Rocks are 150-foot pillars that rise from the ocean floor to just break the surface as craggy islets. I hoped to film harbor seals hauling out and sunbathing on the rocks so we set off at sunrise to reach them on a favorable tide. Without our charts, we congratulated ourselves for calculating the tidal period using our knowledge of the sun and moon. But we prairie boys soon found ourselves paddling against the current as a thick fog and heavy rain rolled in. As we neared the rocks, dozens of seals slid into the water. I set up a camera and we ate lunch in the drizzle, waiting. But the shiny little heads only stared sulkily at us from the water.
Photo: Paul Manning-Hunter
To escape the funnelling wind and waves of Douglas Channel, we turned down sheltered Devastation Channel and pushed on through the fog. Low tide revealed mussel-coated rocks and we aimed for Hugh Creek with mounds of the molluscs on our decks. Paddling up into the fresh water, Spencer pointed into the coniferous jungle and gave a welcome cry, “Cabin!” The wooden cabin stood on three-foot piers above the mossy ground. One tiny window barely illuminated two sets of rustic bunks and an inviting wood stove. Within minutes, we had converted it into a sauna as we steamed mussels and listened to rain drumming on the roof.
A bright morning revealed three huge crabs in our crab trap and the soggy truth that nothing dries in the rainforest. As the crabs boiled, we watched eagles scanning the confluence of the shallow creek and the ocean for their own breakfasts. Eating from the sea and drinking from the creek, we felt a connection to the indigenous people who have been doing just that, probably right there, for thousands of years.
As hard as it was to leave, we couldn’t resist the allure of a nearby hot spring. Like the verdant forests, the Great Bear’s abundance of natural hot springs owe their existence to the region’s copious rainfall. Rain seeps down through the mountains’ sedimentary bases where it’s heated geothermally, and the hot water is forced back to the surface through natural fissures.
That night we decided to adjust our ambitious route plan. I needed footage of the Great Bear’s wild inhabitants to show others what was at stake, but trying to cover as much distance as possible meant that we hadn’t seen a lot of wildlife. The map showed a lake high up in the mountains behind our cabin. We would spend the next day hiking to it.
Threats to the Great Bear
Oil is not the rainforest’s only threat. When the B.C. government named the Great Bear a protected area in 2006, just 50 percent of the forest was made off-limits to logging, leaving half the old-growth forest at risk. Following a creek that tumbled down from Evelyn Lake, we found ourselves on an old logging road overgrown with willows and young spruce where centuries-old Sitka spruce, cedar and western hemlock would have once reached heights of 230 feet. We were clearly not the only users of this wilderness highway. The dirt was imprinted with wolf tracks as big as our hands and fresh piles of bear scat had us nervously fingering the triggers of our pepper spray cans.
After swimming and fishing in the crystalline lake, we returned to the coast along a game trail littered with half-eaten salmon. Spencer explained how a vital source of these forests’ nitrogen and other nutrients comes from fish carcasses carried into the woods by bears and wolves. Moments later, we climbed over a head-high log and found ourselves face to face with a huge black bear. Luckily, the bear had already filled its belly with salmon and we made it back to the cabin instead of nourishing the trees.
With our own food supply running low, we turned back toward Kitamaat Village the following day. At our cabin that evening, I was restless and frustrated. I had missed filming the bear on the game trail—I still didn’t have what I needed. Wandering down to the beach where I had collected mussels for dinner, I spotted a black bear eating from the exact spot I had been only minutes before! Elated, I ran back to the cabin to grab my camera and my friends. We sat on the edge of the forest and watched our neighbor crack open mussels and sniff at the new scent in the foggy ocean air.
Feature photo: Paul Manning-Hunter
On the final 20-kilometer push to Kitimat, carbohydrate withdrawal was obvious as we talked for an hour about different ways to cook yams. A cold wind, rain, fatigue and hunger had us in low spirits until a dozen dorsal fins popped up in front of us. A pod of Dall’s porpoises had come to investigate and offer us a reminder of why we were out here.
Leaving the Great Bear, I found myself pondering the issues facing this complex wilderness with a newfound clarity, and grateful to have had the chance to journey with my friends amongst the rainforest-cloaked mountains, foraging bears and playful porpoises. I was glad, too, that the trip was more than a personal adventure. Aspiring to share the Great Bear’s story with others enhanced my own connection to this special place. Hauling camera equipment and seeking out opportunities to film may have limited our miles, but it opened our eyes.
Great Bear trip planner
When to go
Mid to late summer has the most stable weather with the least wind and rain. However, keep in mind you are in a rainforest—plan for wet weather. In the spring, runoff from creeks and rivers creates currents that can make getting into the inlets dangerous. Storms plague the region beginning in late September. Expect bugs almost any time of year—a local told us the only insect repellent is winter.
Difficulty
Douglas Channel is renowned for wind and waves. Infrequent landings due to the surrounding cliffs compound the difficulty, making this an advanced route. The deep fjords and foul weather also make communication, even by satellite, unpredictable. Freshwater for drinking is available approximately every 10 kilometers.
Access
The city of Kitimat is accessed by Highway 37 off Trans-Canada Highway 16. There is no recreational boat launch, as the Alcan plant takes up the city’s entire waterfront. The best option is to drive 20 minutes southeast on Minette Bay Road to Kitimaat Village and launch for free at MK Bay Marina. Parking is $5 per day. BC Ferries does not service Kitimat, the nearest ferry ports are Klemtu and Prince Rupert.
Charts/Forecasts
Canadian Hydrographic Series chart 3743 (1:73,000). Find local wave heights and marine weather from the Nanakwa Shoal weather station at weather.gc.ca.
Guidebook
The Wild Coast, Volume 2 by John Kimantas (Whitecap Books, 2006) is excellent and has detailed maps and information on many routes in the region.
Guided trips
Albacore II Charters offers mothership services.
The Gitga’at Native community at Hartley Bay offers guided trips and accommodations.
This article was first published in the Summer/Fall 2013 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
It’s been a while since my last real sea kayak expedition. I admit this knowing that I’ll find strength in numbers and I have the largest part of our readership standing beside me talking on their cell phones, covered in drywall dust and Gerber non-sweetened applesauce. Life for me at 35 has pretty much unfolded as everyone older than me said it would: job (granted, a cool one), house and family. I’m still paddling, more than they said I would be, more than I have ever before. But it’s different now.
I used to be able to look back on a year and see the rows of days filled in on my calendar. Silver Islet to Rossport— 10 days. The Trent Severn Waterway— two weeks. A week out and back exploring Tangier, Nova Scotia. I’m on the water as much as ever, but you wouldn’t know it by my calendar. Sea kayaking for me was like a vacation, a getaway. Lately it’s more like going for bike ride or throwing the ball around, something I’d do for a few hours after cutting the grass on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
Outfitters all over North America are changing their summer programs from 10-day adventures to weekends, day trips and even half days. The coolest job out there used to be wilderness sea kayak guide, now it’s tour guide. It’s far less romantic, but what can you do? Clients are just too busy and won’t commit to being away for seven days at a time. The horrible irony is, of course, that as a society we’ve never needed a week’s holiday more than we do now. Paddling within Blackberry range is also changing the types of boats on the market. Ten years ago a sea kayak was a sea kayak, roughly 17 feet long and perfect for an extended trip. Today we have specialized fishing kayaks, fitness shells, beach boats and light touring sea kayaks—boats sure to get you out on the water when you can’t get out for long periods of time. Our expedition 17-footers are fine for long trips but these new boats make it easier to get out for a couple hours here and there. Kayaking used to be a way of making distance, these days going kayaking is about making time.
To survive in our mini-adventure culture I’ve learned to be ready to go on a moment’s notice. Everything has to be in one place, mine’s all in one Rubbermaid bin. I have my gear set like a fireman so I can slide down the pole and step into my boots, pull up my bibs and jump onto the moving truck. If you don’t hurry you’ve burned up time you could have spent on the water.
Last week when trout season opened I was rigging my fishing kayak and getting ready to push off. I was about to lock my truck and hide the keys and saw my cell phone on the dash. For a moment, only a quick moment, I thought about sliding it into my radio pocket in case the office needed to reach me. But I didn’t. That would be going just a little too far.
Justin Trudeau and his family canoeing on the Yukon River
Justin Trudeau, leader of the federal Liberal Party of Canada, is currently on summer holiday, and he and his family certainly seem to be making the most of it.
The slight drizzle that fell over the Yukon River last Thursday morning didn’t keep the Trudeau’s away. Justin, along with wife Sophie, 4-year old daughter Ella-Grace and 5-year old son Xavier, joined Yukon Wild member Nahanni River Adventures & Canadian River Expeditions (NAH/CRE) on a morning canoe last week through Miles Canyon. Justin last paddled with NAH/CRE on the Nahanni River in 2007 and made the canoe outing with his family a priority for him during his trip to Yukon.
Justin is a skilled paddler and past whitewater raft guide on the Rouge River in Quebec, and the legacy continues as his children showed a keen interest as well as comfort and ease in the canoes. The day trip was a perfect fit for the Trudeaus. The Yukon River held as much adventure for the family as the Nahanni did for Justin. A stop at Canyon City of Gold Rush fame allowed for exploration and some gold panning along its banks. Lunch atop of Miles Canyon was punctuated with cliff jumping by Justin and has son, Xavier. An appetite for adventure just like his father, Xavier’s requests for the trip were to ‘go fast’ and ‘have fun’.
With smiles all around, the day was filled with endless Yukon sunshine, laughs, and great family memories. The Trudeaus will continue their summer holiday into Banff and California before their return to the capital.
For more information about Yukon Wild and its members, visit www.yukonwild.com
As always, you can expect to see line-ups in the eddies of the Rocher-Fendu section of the Ottawa River this summer. Boaters of all kinds make the journey back to the Ottawa time and time again, largely due to its high volume waves, warm water and ease of access.
The access could become non-existent, however, if private boaters do not start doing their part to ensure that they leave the access points in good condition.
“There is no public access to this section of the Ottawa River, which has put the rafting company’s in the position of providing paddlers with access through their private property and facilities,” explains John Mason, a member of the Whitewater Ontario Advocacy committee, “This is why OWL Rafting/MKC leased and eventually purchased property at the put-in and have provided parking and access free of charge as a responsibility they took on since the early 1970’s.”
Access roads into McCoy’s rapid and the Lorne (owned by OWL) and Black’s Rapid (owned by Wilderness Tours), are certainly appreciated by those who wish to access their favorite play spot or take-out easily, but many are abusing the road and parking areas by ignoring requests from landowners about respecting the property.
“The gate at Grants Settlement Road is locked through the winter until the road dries out by mid May,” says Mason, “All are welcome to park at the main road and walk in at anytime the gate is locked, but people ignore the gate and drive. This is a problem, as the road is unstable and easily damaged. Parking in the main parking lot, not at the top of the rapid, is requested as well.”
Trying to curb the effects that driving to the top of the rapid has had on the road, Whitewater Ontario worked with OWL Rafting to create directional signage for the new access trail OWL has built at the Lorne Rapid. The signage directs paddlers to the trail, and thanks OWL on behalf of paddlers for continuing to provide access to the Ottawa.
“We have worked with Dirk Van Wijk, owner of OWL, to develop directional signs to get paddlers using the new Access Trail,” says Wayne Donison, Co-Chair of the Whitewater Ontario Advocacy Committee, “There have been some problems created for RiverRun Rafting and Wilderness Tours in the past because of people being disrespectful of their lunch site properties- camping in the lunch spots, leaving litter, messing up the outhouses and driving in beyond the sign at the gate.”
Due to higher cost of maintaining the road in to the Lorne, it is more important than ever that private paddlers respect the generosity of the rafting companies.
“Failure to respect these simple conditions could result in closure of the road to private paddlers,” says Mason, “Make sure roads are kept clear for bus traffic, and that there is no camping, no fires, and be sure to pack out your trash.”
Prepare everything from bacon to birthday cakes with this 10.5-inch anodized aluminum modern equivalent to a Dutch oven. Thetwo-inch deep pan and lid weighs under 29 ounces and areare durable, lightweight, and specially designed to withstand the rigors of outdoor use.
Based on the lip-lock platform that’s been popular in Europe for years for its superior dryness, Immersion Research’s new Kling-On will change the way you look at bungee skirts. By combining the watertightness of a lip-lock deck with the easy application of a bungee skirt, it offers better protection in a more user-friendly option. With extra-durable Melco edging in high wear areas, wearing a Kling-On means one less thing to worry about while shredding.
Kayak Distribution, manufacturer of Boreal Design, Riot Kayaks and Beluga Accessories, and North American distributor of Tahe Marine, Zegul Marine and Trapper Canoes and Kayaks, is pleased to announce its Strategic Partnership with Seaward Kayaks Ltd. Seaward Kayaks, a family-owned company, is situated on Vancouver Island off the West Coast of British Columbia, Canada.
The Seaward story began over 25 years when Steven Ree and Geoff Workman, two influential figures in the North American Sea Kayak industry, combined their talents and started the company that has evolved into the industry icon it is today. World-renowned for its impressive heritage and irrefutable pedigree, Seaward’s array of awards and accolades continues to bolster its reputation for producing award winning composite and thermoformed designs.
The Seaward composite flagship, the Passat G3, currently holds the coveted Sea Kayaker Magazine Readers’ Choice Award. Most recently, the new Seaward Halo SR-130 thermoformed kayak vaulted to prominence by winning the 2013 ‘Gear of the Year’ award from Outside Magazine.
The new Seaward SR Series garnered a great deal of attention this year and soon caught the eye of Kayak Distribution. “Due to our heavy investment in thermoforming it was considered a priority to solicit these North American influenced designs to compliment the Riot Recreational thermoformed Edge Series and the more Greenlandic Boreal Designs thermoformed kayaks” says Marc Pelland, President of Kayak Distribution.
The entire Seaward Kayaks thermoformed division has now been acquired by Kayak Distribution, which will produce them independently. Seaward Kayaks Canada’s composite operations will remain intact – owned and operated by its original owners – and its composite boats will continue to be manufactured by the same skilled craftsmen that have been hand-making them on Vancouver Island for over 25 years.
In addition to the thermoformed acquisition, the Strategic Partnership includes an unprecedented Reciprocal Sales Rep Agreement: This means that the entire product lines for both companies are now available to each company’s respective customer bases. Seaward’s customers will now have access to the popular Riot and Boreal Design product lines, Beluga accessories, as well as anything else in the Kayak Distribution product catalogue.
Customers of Kayak Distribution will now be able to order the famed Seaward Passat G3 and draw form the entire Seaward composite line, while benefiting from the consolidated shipping rates of the vast Kayak Distribution system.
In terms of sales and marketing, the Seaward compound will also function as the West Coast Sales and Shipping Hub for Kayak Distribution.
“Consolidating resources and operations will benefit both companies”, says Mr. Pelland who adds, “we are pleased to welcome the Seaward dealers to the Kayak Distribution family.”
“We are most excited about the added value this Partnership will bring to our respective dealer bases” says Steven Ree, president of Seaward Kayaks who also promises “things will be business as usual” during the transition to streamline the operations.
Talks are also underway that are expected to see Kayak Distribution contract Seaward Kayaks’ production expertise to provide additional high-end, fully-customisable composite kayaks for the North American market.
“We are investigating all possible efficiencies and synergies and we are very excited at the growth prospects to be realized by this initiative” says Mark Hall, Canadian Sales Manager for Kayak Distributions.
The addition of 11 thermoformed models from Seaward Kayaks to the newly redesigned thermoformed kayaks from Riot and Boreal Design brings the total to 23 thermoformed models spread across all disciplines of kayaking. These are complimented by over 100 additional models of roto-molded or composite constructions currently in the Kayak Distribution product catalogue.
Kayak Distribution is a Canadian-owned company with its headquarters and warehouse in Montreal, a second warehouse in Ladysmith, BC, and a third in San Diego, California. KD has production facilities in Quebec, Estonia, and China, enabling it to better supply world demand with its high quality roto-molded, thermoformed and composite products, at a price that competes with the larger corporate entities.
This unprecedented Partnership between Kayak Distribution and Seaward Kayaks will allow Kayak dealers across North America and throughout the world to reap the benefits of a comprehensive catalogue of truly industry-leading designs, excellent distribution networks and outstanding customer service.
How old were you when you first learned to portage solo? Who taught you?
This photo was taken in Woodland Caribou Provincial Park and is courtesy Ontario Tourism. Want to see your photo here? Send to [email protected] with subject line Daily Photo.
This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2013 issue of Rapid Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Rapid’s print and digital editions here
This article was first published in the Summer/Fall 2013 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. 
