“Yup, it does get breezy in these parts.” The launch guard’s weathered face splits into an ironic grin beneath his thick white whiskers.

Espousing understated commentary on the state of the weather seems to be the sole raison d’être for this riverside hermit, as he soon disappears back into the sun-baked, vintage Airstream that rests by the put-in. In the canyons of southern Utah, “breezy” seems to be the local meteorological term for gale-force winds and three-storey dust devils. I reflect on the forecast I had seen the night before; the familiar symbols for sun, clouds, and rain were replaced by the image of a wind turbine.

A twinge of failure seems to accompany any retreat before nature. We have invented high-tech materials to shield us from the sun’s UV rays and protect us from extreme cold, making it possible to extend our paddling pursuits throughout the year and brave fiercer conditions. Yet there remains one element that we Gore-Tex–sporting kayakers are unable to tame. Wind. Blowing the bow spray into our faces and buffeting our paddle blades as we reach to catch the next wave crest. Tearing our eyes and obliterating the voices of our companions.

Powerful, relentless, and unpredictable, the wind is a leading risk for any paddler. Often wind is the catalyst in a chain reaction of mishaps that can lead to paddling calamity. Strong winds can create treacherous waves, and poor judgment about whether or not to head out in these conditions can be the proverbial straw to break the camel’s back. Case in point is an accident in British Columbia’s Howe

Sound that made headlines last October when two men died of hypothermia after capsizing in two-metre seas and 85-kilometre-perhour winds. The incident occurred while the experienced adventure racers were completing a training session that involved paddling to an island, running to the summit, and then returning to mainland by kayak. The wind had picked up by the time the men finished their run, but they set out anyway. A maritime coordinator of the rescue centre later told reporters, “The weather conditions were forecasted. They were known. It was a poor choice.”

Adrenalin-charged adventure racers and under-prepared neophytes are not the only ones who find themselves in trouble when the wind rages. Some of the most preventable accidents and near misses befall experienced paddlers on multi-day trips. Overconfidence with one’s skills, complacency with a familiar area, or a desire to “make the miles” are typical factors. More often than not, we are trying to avoid that helpless feeling that results from being windbound.

Sea kayaking manuals are forever promoting the idea that wind days are somehow a blessing rather than an inconvenience. Being windbound, we are to believe, is something that kayakers should be grateful for; a matchless opportunity to explore the coast from shore, read a book, or socialize with trip mates.

From my experience, however, this optimism is little more than cheerful self-delusion. Playing rummy on the beach while the waves race past is about as satisfying as attending a track and field event on a pair of crutches. It is most likely that you will spend your wind day trapped on a small swath of beach hemmed by impregnable forest, itching to go paddling.

If fate has provided you with a sandy campsite, all of your food will rapidly achieve the consistency of Gojo. Forget casserole or chicken a la king, the taste du jour is grits. Worse, your formerly perennially good-natured trip companions will be just as frustrated and shorttempered as you. If it’s raining and windy, spirits will plummet faster than the barometer.

No, the real merit in taking a wind day is that it is the smart and responsible thing to do, no matter how irksome. The Howe Sound incident occurred around noon; by mid-afternoon, the weather had calmed down. Tragically, if the men had sacrificed their training session and rested on shore for a few extra hours, they might still be alive. Sometimes the boldest decision is that which chooses safety over adventure.

In the Utah Canyonlands, I thank the launch guard for his conversation. My companions and I decide to make camp and wait for the wind to abate. In our meagre shelter beneath an embattled cottonwood, we attempt a game of cards. The wind does its best to sandblast the clothes from our bodies, and eventually we retreat to the cramped confines of our tents. It may not be as exciting as trying to paddle further, but I am sanguine in my surrender to the wind. After all, a little boredom and discomfort never killed anyone.

This article originally appeared in Adventure Kayak, Fall 2008. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

“Do you currently have, have you ever had, been told you have or received treatment or advice for: abnormal blood pressure, coronary artery disease, elevated cholesterol, heart murmur, transient ischemic attack, stroke or any other disorder or disease of the heart, blood vessels or cardiovascular systems?”

“No.”

“In the past three years have you engaged in a hazardous sport or activity, or do you intend to do so within the next 12 months?”

Hazardous sport or activity, I thought to myself. Hmm, what is the correct answer?

So far I’d been able to confidently answer no to almost everything. Now I could feel my face going flush and the hairs on the back of neck standing on end. I was being backed into a corner.

“Do you mean something like hockey or driving on the freeway?”


“No, we mean things like skydiving, rock climbing and whitewater kayaking.”

“Maybe…yes…three days a week, sometimes four.”


“What?”


I’d been down this road before, twice as a matter of fact. Now, with a mortgage and two children, I had promised my wife Tanya that I wouldn’t hang up on the insurance agent. His job, of course, is to assess the insurance company’s level of risk—they want to know how likely I am to die. And they bet against it, stacking the deck in their favor.

Thinking about it this way, I should have felt reassured—they don’t want me to die. Except there’s the bit about checking boxes beside things they don’t understand—things that rack up my annual premium.

They don’t want to know how many miles a year I drive. They don’t ask about my eating habits, or if I do hot yoga (I don’t). Instead, I ended up explaining to the agent the difference between class III and class V. Affirming that I’m a certified instructor, that after 20 years I haven’t had a serious or life-threatening injury on the river. That, no, that wasn’t me you saw on television.

In some ways I can’t blame insurance companies. If their actuaries watched ESPN, Tyler Bradt’s 186-foot drop over Palouse Falls would be a juicy red flag. Still, I doubt the recent tragic death of freeskiing sweetheart Sarah Burke generated an inter-office memo adding skiing to the insurance company’s hazardous activities list.

Why not? Because everyone in the insurance office probably skis. Burke was a professional athlete; she competed at the Winter X Games. They understand the difference between this and their own recreational skiing—or mine. They’re waging their bets that I’m not at my local hill working on Shaun White’s Double McTwist 1260.

In whitewater, I’m not sure even paddlers understand this difference. Lately, there hasn’t really been much of a gap between extreme athlete and recreational boater. Let’s face it; paddling into a monster hole or off a 90-footer is easy. We’re just now beginning to realize that paddling away is not.

I argued passionately with the broker. I may even have convinced him that whitewater was not all that hazardous. In doing so, I realized the best life insurance isn’t a lump sum payment to my designated beneficiaries. Real life insurance is stacking the deck in my favor by making smart decisions on the river. I’ve spent 20 years investing my time and money gaining both knowledge and experience. I’m the beneficiary of this life insurance policy and I’m happy to keep paying the premiums.

Scott MacGregor is the founder and publisher of Rapid.

This article originally appeared in Rapid, Spring 2012. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.