Paddler Profile: Extreme Whitewater Champ Sam Sutton

Stories
People

f75f45065e491a3adc61e72a384867bb_XL — Sam Sutton charging a line in Austria. (Photo: Jens Klatt)

Four years ago at the inaugural, much-hyped Adidas Sickline Extreme Kayak World Championships in Oetzal, Austria, a fiery young paddler from New Zealand stole second place, just 11/100ths of a second behind the winner, from a field of 50 top European finalists.

In 2010 and again last year, Sam Sutton, 23, took the heavy brass belt of World Champion for himself, smashing the course record in the process and adding the coveted championship to a growing list of race wins.

With his silky smooth, power-packed paddling style, Sutton is dominating the extreme racing scene. His seemingly innate ability to place perfectly timed stokes on even the hardest whitewater courses has earned him the podium at many top races, including the Teva Mountain Games and Norway’s Voss Extreme Week.

“Sam has this outstanding mental ability to relax and perform under pressure, allowing him to pull off amazing results at the crucial moments,” says fellow Kiwi racer, Josh Neilson.

Growing up within walking distance of the Kaituna River on New Zealand’s North Island, Sutton’s endless energy and enthusiasm earned him the respect and tutelage of the area’s best paddlers, including local legend James Moore and successful international competitor Kenny Mutton. But it wasn’t until Sutton’s second overseas experience in 2007, which took him from Uganda to Canada then on to California, that he got his taste for hard Class V boating. It was while running these difficult rivers that he honed his mental edge, learning to react to any situation quickly and calmly.

[ Watch: Why NZ’s Kaituna River Rocks ]

Wins at local races, then international events, followed. Sutton traveled to Austria hoping to prove himself at what was being billed the Extreme Race World Championships. He did just that, scooping a podium finish from Tao Berman, the only other non-European Sickline finalist.

Sutton’s talents translate into “one of the smoothest racing styles to date,” says Sickline creator and team manager, Olaf Obsommer, who signed the young Kiwi to the Sickline Team in 2008 after his outstanding performance at the World Championships.

Last year, the pair traveled the globe to produce Searching for the River God; Obsommer filming and Sutton paddling in the hardest conditions imaginable.

“What impresses me most about Sam is his character; he is not a stress maker or neurotic, he has incredible mental power,” says Obsommer, who works regularly with world-class boaters like Mariann Saether and Nick Troutman. “He is also a powerhouse yet doesn’t look like one, his movement is so fast and precise at the same time.”

[ Paddling Buyer’s Guide: View all whitewater kayaking gear and accessories ]

Catching up with Sam in his hometown of Okere Falls, NZ, you would never know he is a world champion. “My life doesn’t revolve around kayaking,” he explains with typical Kiwi candor, “it is something I enjoy doing and I do it well…so that is sweet.”

With the launch of his new business, Rotorua Rafting, on the Kaituna River last August, Sutton is busy balancing his racing career with being an entrepreneur. He’s planning another world tour for 2012, hitting all the major events: Teva Mountain Games in Vail, Extreme Outdoor Games in Italy, Voss Extreme Week in Norway, the invitation-only Whitewater Grand Prix in Chile and, of course, defending his title at Sickline.

“Someone has to keep those North Americans and Europeans at bay,” Sutton declares confidently. “I have no plans to hang up my title any time soon.”

This article originally appeared in Rapid‘s Early Summer 2012 issue. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions here, or browse the archives here.

Class V+ North Fork hosts a new race in June

Stories
News & Events

Michael Mechan

Kayaking on the North Fork. (Photo: Mike Leeds) — Class V+ North Fork hosts a new race in June

Inspired by other big water events like the Whitewater Grand Prix, which is set to run its second edition this December in Chile, the North Fork Championship is being casually referred to by boaters in the know as “the Ship”.

In the first of the weekend’s two events, lesser knowns will compete on a three-mile downriver race through class IV–V water. The top three performers from this event qualify to race against elite boaters from around the world down a second course made up of four gates through Jacob’s Ladder and Golf Course, the rapids that give the North Fork Payette its extreme reputation.

It was the Boise area’s vibrant community of first-rate whitewater talent that prompted event director James Byrd to create the two-tiered format. “I wanted to bring the best paddlers in the world to compete against locals,” he says.

Paddling in their neck of the woods means paddling well, but there are few elitists in the area; just hard-working, humble folks who live for time off spent paddling Idaho’s steep creeks and huge whitewater. The hope is that the North Fork will serve as an equalizer between the hometown crowd and the pros invited to compete.

Not only will the mixed bag of paddlers be competing for bragging rights, there is also an eyebrow-raising cash pot to be awarded to winners. Byrd says that the cash prizes will provide legitimacy to whitewater kayaking in the world of extreme sports and support athletes. “I’m trying to get some money into the hands of paddlers—pros and locals—to get more people into boats,” he says.

Celebrating top-level athletes and the cachet of extreme paddling while promoting the accessibility of whitewater to beginners and average-Joe, class III paddlers is a balancing act the whitewater community has yet to perfect.

Byrd says his goal is to inspire new paddlers, not scare them. “I want to showcase the abilities of the world’s top paddlers and that requires rapids like Jacob’s Ladder,” he says. “If there was a race like this when I was growing up, I would have trained my whole life to compete at this level.”

Whitewater pioneer and North Fork legend, Doug Ammons, is a mentor to top paddlers and respects the skill level and accomplishments of many younger paddlers, including Byrd. But with cash and hefty titles on the line, he questions whether the whitewater community needs events like this.

“The instant you put in prize money and people start viewing a run as a competition, then paddlers focus on themselves rather than the river,” he says.

In the 1990s, Ammons organized the North Fork Payette Fast Get-Together. With an emphasis on get-together, it was so far from being about titles or cash prizes that, in 1994, he canceled the event after being offered a large cash sponsorship deal by ESPN.

Byrd says his goal is simply “to produce a safe, fun and respectful event on the river. I’ve been lucky enough to paddle with some of the world’s best paddlers and I’ve experienced the giddiness we feel when paddling big water,” he says. “The cash won’t change that. We’re just here because we love it so much.”

For dates, entry forms and more info on the Ship, visit www.northforkchampionship.com.

This story originally appeared on page 15 of the Early Summer 2012 issue of Rapid magazine. Read the entire issue here.

Wenonah Recon Canoe Review

Boats
Kayaks

Scott MacGregor

Wenonah Recon on the Madawaska River. (Photo: Michael Mechan) — Wenonah Recon Canoe Review

I asked Jake Greseth, Wenonah’s marketing director, why they called their first solo whitewater playboat the Recon. Two reasons, he said. Recon for reconnaissance had a nice whitewater vibe to it, and Recon for reconnect. As Greseth says, “The Recon is nothing too tricky or extreme, it’s a welcoming platform for those who have been-there-done-that and want to go back and do it again.”

Most open boat designs are by guys building the perfect boat for themselves. Wenonah, on the other hand, designed the Recon to be a canoe for the people—lots of people.

On first inspection, the Recon looked to me like a Mad River Outrage crossed with an Esquif Spark. When I learned it was co-designed by Dana Henry, this made sense. Dana Henry is the son of Jim Henry, co-founder of Mad River Canoe and designer of the timeless Outrage. And the last time I saw Dana, he took 30 seconds off my best time at the ACA Open Canoe Slalom Championships—on my home river. No surprise, then, to see the subtle V hull of the Outrage and an asymmetrical cab-forward shape reminiscent of the Spark.

Not everyone is excited about smaller and edgier open canoes. After 12 years of paddling OC1s less than 10 feet long, even I found getting back into 13 feet of Royalex was pleasantly reassuring. The Recon has no wobble or flip-flop from gunwale to gunwale like my Esquif Zoom or the Mohawk Maxim.

It takes an extra stroke to get the Recon moving but it is so much faster and carries its speed so much deeper through turns. Think big forward stroke with a stern correction stroke… Oh, glory days.

With very little tilt, the Recon’s shallow V really holds a ferry angle. Give it more tilt and the ends magically release and the bow swings smoothly around. After a few big eddy turns, I started dropping the 13-foot hull into places it really shouldn’t be. The secret is to approach with a very open angle and work its release effect with an offside tilt to slam on the brakes and snap the bow upstream. Fun.

The Recon is super dry whether surfing or crashing through breaking waves. Seldom does water splash on the decks and the bow doesn’t pearl, period. Wenonah decked the Recon 30 inches from the bow and stern to shed water and add style. It looks tidy, but in my opinion just adds weight and makes draining a nuisance. If it were my boat, I’d take them off.

The highly adjustable outfitting in our Recon was the work of Wenonah western sales rep, Kurt Renner. The base of the two-piece saddle glues to the hull; the top—the part you sit on—attaches with Velcro and moves forward or backward to adjust trim. Also adjustable are the knee pads, which Velcro to strips on the floor. Single thigh straps thread through pre-installed loops. Behind the seat on each side are foam block ankle risers—you’ll want to shape these to suit. Vinyl float bags are included.

With only Velcro holding it down, I thought all the foam would rip out in the first hole, but the only thing ripped out of the Recon was me. Yup, I swam. Without foot pegs and with single thigh straps, it is almost impossible to stay in. For many old school paddlers, I bet that’s okay, preferred in fact. The rest of us can order the Recon as a naked hull and take the time to dress it ourselves.

While most of the open boat world is riding old designs or innovating with very niche models, the Recon offers class II–III canoeists a cruisy new option that’s smooth and stable, just like all solo boats used to be.

MATERIAL: ROYALEX

LENGTH: 13’

MAX WIDTH: 29”

ROCKER: 6”

HULL WEIGHT: 57 LBS

MSRP: HULL $1,099 or FACTORY OUTFITTED $1,899

www.wenonah.com

This story originally appeared on page 24 of the Early Summer 2012 issue of Rapid magazine. Read the entire issue here.

Video: Hell or High Water III

Videos

Paddling Magazine Staff

Photo: Rapid Staff — Video: Hell or High Water III

[iframe width=”560″ height=”315″ src=”https://www.youtube.com/embed/8vt61biiv3A” frameborder=”0″ allowfullscreen ]

We got to race and relax at the Hell or High Water Event on the Petawawa River. One of the fastest growing races in paddlesports the HOHW Event brings in hundreds or kayakers, rafters, canoeist and spectators from all over. Check out some of the action and find out how the event started and why it matters to so many people.

Duluth Packs Monarch Gear Review

Gear

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Duluth Packs Monarch Canoe Pack — Photo: Duluth Packs

A review of the Duluth Packs Monarch traditional portage pack from Canoeroots & Family Camping magazine.

Duluth Pack perfected the olive drab canvas canoe pack in the 1800s. Since then, the brand has become synonymous with traditional portage packs. After years of making custom modifications to their original packs, Duluth built the 95-liter Monarch—a full-featured pack that doesn’t abandon time-tested materials or compromise craftsmanship. Constructed of rugged 18-ounce canvas, it has padded leather shoulder straps and a removable waist belt, tump and sternum strap. The pack sits low to accommodate the carrying of a canoe. Adopt Duluth’s liner system to get the most out of the Monarch. Start by inserting a folded sleeping pad into the rear inner sleeve, providing extra cushioning. Then, pack the included 6-mil poly liner to protect items that need to stay dry. Finally, stuff the inner pockets with other loose items like saws, tent poles and rain gear. Outer side pockets provide quick access to smaller items.

A VIDEO REVIEW OF THE DULUTH MONARCH CANOE PACK FROM CANOEROOTS MAGAZINE

This article originally appeared in Canoeroots & Family Camping, Spring 2012. Download our freeiPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Granite Gear Superior One Gear Reivew

Gear
Accessories
Bags, Boxes, Cases & Packs
Videos

Paddling Magazine Staff

A review of the Granite Gear Superior One portage pack from Canoeroots & Family Camping magazine

The Superior One uses a harness reminiscent of a high-quality hiking backpack mounted onto a bag that’s sized for a canoe—a rare blend in portage packs. Its padded back panel forms for comfort and distributes weight evenly with help from wide, contoured shoulder straps and a cushy, interchangeable waist belt. Choose from two sizes to customize torso fit. Top load the colossal 121-liter capacity using dry bags for optimal protection—the Superior One is water-resistant, not proof. The Cordura and ballistic nylons used in the pack’s body bottom do, however, stand up to being dragged, snagged, tossed and sat on better than dryer, vinyl alternatives. The pack’s side pockets and lash points, features absent on lower-end models, make carrying loose items easy.

www.granitegear.com | $220

A VIDEO REVIEW OF THE GRANITE GEAR SUPERIOR ONE CANOE PACK FROM CANOEROOTS MAGAZINE

This article originally appeared in Canoeroots & Family Camping, Spring 2012. Download our freeiPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Growing Up Fishing

Stories

Scott MacGregor

There were strict rules. The most important rule: Announce your cast. When I heard, “Casting Daddy,” I was on full alert. In the bow of the canoe, my three-year-old son sat swinging a wooden minnow armed with razor-sharp treble hooks.

Fishing with children is a long-term investment. Successful investors know that to achieve higher returns in the long run, you have to accept short-term risk. Like, say, a hook in the arm.

The fishing industry also knows the value of investing in children at a young age, and the earlier the better. Someone who comes to fishing at age 10 will spend far more over his lifetime than someone who takes up fishing in his twenties. The earlier you have a rod in your hand, the more avid you’re likely to be and the later in life you’re likely to fish. Not to mention you will be more likely to take your own children or grandchildren fishing—investing in another generation.

Both my kids have had their own rods and tackle from an early age. One of their favorite parts of fishing is sorting and choosing lures. So far, five-year-old Kate chooses her hard plastic baits by color. She’ll ask me to put on the cute pink one or little Blue Betty. Sorting and organizing their tackle is part of the experience. Sure it’s expensive, but still cheaper and better money spent than Wii Hooked! Real Motion Fishing.

Throwing blue and silver minnow lures into shady eddies on our home river isn’t like feeding worms to sunfish on a cane pole. In the beginning, Doug would hang onto his rod for a couple turns of the reel but never long enough to get a frisky smallmouth bass anywhere near the gunwales. “Dad… Dad… HELP!”

Fishing with kids can be tedious and stressful. But with vision and patience, there are huge paybacks. And not everything along the way needs to be reinvested; there are certainly dividends, payouts worth more than cash, stock or property.

Last summer, when Doug was six, we stumbled on the best river bass fishing I’d ever experienced. Bass were jumping at our lures dangling over the side of the canoe.

Rules be damned. Without warning, Doug fired a perfect cast to the far side of a large, deep eddy. A smallmouth hit his Rapala and shot out of the water shaking furiously. It was pretty clear to Doug, and to me, he was in for the fight of his little life.

I set down my rod and began to crawl over the canoe packs, tackle trays and blue barrels, expecting him to hand me his rod. He was losing line faster than his fingers could reel it in.

“Pass over your rod, Doug,” I suggested.

He jammed the butt of the rod in his belly button below his PFD, leaned back bracing his feet against the gunwales and started cranking like an offshore fisherman battling an angry marlin.

“No way, Dad. Get the net, I’m going to land this mother!”

This article on fishing with kids was published in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

The Perfect Tump

Skills

Conor Mihell

Seventeen feet of old-school canvas and cedar makes you think differently about portages. I’ve carried relatively lightweight kevlar and Royalex canoes for hundreds of kilometers, but my big green prospector is different. It weighs an honest 82 pounds bone-dry and considerably more after a few days of travel.

Luckily, the legion of trippers who’ve lugged such waterlogged beasts in Temagami and the North Woods of Maine have come up with a clever way to bear the weight—one that’s equally effective on lighter contemporary canoes.

Maybe you’ve discovered the advantages of the tumpline on your favorite portage pack—the way it transfers weight from shoulders to spine and enables you to move massive loads. Rigged on the center thwart or carrying yoke of a canoe, the tumpline has similar advantages: a properly adjusted tump positioned just above your forehead actually lifts the canoe off of your shoulders and eliminates the pressure points of portaging. When your head and neck become fatigued, slipping out of the tump moves the weight back onto your shoulders, providing some respite on long carries.

Traditional outfitters sell leather tumplines that are designed for carrying canoes.

Look for one with a two-inch-wide head strap measuring about 15 inches long that’s securely riveted to five- to seven- foot tails. It’s also possible to build your own with leather, canvas or nylon webbing.

On canoes with carrying yokes, wrap the tails of the tumpline on either side of the contoured portion of the yoke and secure them with a simple hitch near the gunwales. The tumpline will only work if it fits tight; for me, this means fastening it to the yoke as close to the headpiece as possible.

It’s easy to use your paddles to create a carrying yoke on canoes equipped with straight center thwarts. Tie a thin cord permanently to the thwart with spaces for the paddle blades and enough room for your head in between. The blades should be aligned with your shoulders. Loosely secure the grip ends of the paddles on a seat or thwart. Then attach the tumpline, wrapping the tails so that the paddles can slide in and out of position without the need to remove the tump.

Once you’ve lifted the canoe (unfortunately a tumpline won’t help you there), slip the tump over the crown of your head and feel the weight of the canoe levitate from your shoulders. It helps to hold the tump near your jaw with one hand; use your other hand to keep the canoe resting level.

This article on tumplines was published in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Catching the Bug

Stories

Larry Rice

I really don’t know what made me want to explore the world, let alone in a canoe.

I grew up in a Chicago suburb where Wisconsin was considered somewhere far-off and foreign. Maybe it was my inexplicable interest in African wildlife; I visited Chicago’s stately Field Museum of Natural History, with its immense African Hall, every chance I got. Or maybe it was my penchant to devour classics like Robinson Crusoe, Treasure Island and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Even the Mississippi River was exotic and enthralling to a city kid.

But, digging deeper, I believe it was my discovery of canoeing that helped rock my sheltered world. Seeking a means to commune with nature somewhere closer to home than Africa, I purchased an Old Town Tripper and ventured—often blundered—through places I had only imagined up to then: the Florida Everglades, Missouri Ozark rivers, spectacular canyons of the Rio Grande. My horizons quickly expanded far beyond the urban jungles and cornfields of Illinois.

Since then, I’ve been fortunate to canoe in 25 countries and on all seven continents, but I’m still humbled by how big our planet is and how precious little of it I have visited. Running my index finger over the smooth curve of a globe in my living room in central Colorado, my mind begins to wander. I dream about canoeing far-flung places with challenging waters, unfamiliar cultures and more unknowns than knowns: Botswana, Tasmania, Peru, Ellesmere Island, Vietnam, Moldova. The list goes on and on.

It’s impossible to see around the bend, which only raises the possibilities.

I like that about traveling, about paddling. Once you slip your bow into the current and let it usher you downstream, everything is possible, or seems to be.

When everything clicks on a paddling trip, I find not only the rugged wilderness I am seeking, but also a new way of appreciating the world. An appreciation of the unique qualities of the country I am visiting—its history, culture and the people I reach out to and meet along the way. Traveling by canoe allows me to discover my internal compass as well as be guided by an external one. By going with the flow, not fighting it, I find myself floating through life and oftentimes laughing along the way.

Following the path of the paddle these past 35 years, my passion for travel still burns as bright today as when I was that youngster fantasizing about tripping down Ol’ Man River.

This article on exploring the world by canoe was published in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

The Art of Trip

Stories

Frank Wolf

Wading through my gear stash last spring, my eyes eventually settled on the protective case that contains my video camera.

As an outdoor filmmaker, I feel a certain obligation to bring the camera along on any extended trip and attempt to craft a work of engaging cinema. Creating art from the wilderness experience is a Canadian tradition made internationally famous by emissaries like Emily Carr and Bill Mason. Inspired by these icons, I’ve done my small part through the medium of film by sharing stories set within the context of remote self-propelled expeditions.

More often than not, I travel by canoe. This summer, the plan was for my friend Todd McGowan and I to paddle through the deepest heart of Ontario’s Boreal forest via an 1,120-kilometer route that would span the length of Wabakimi Provincial Park and then continue north, eventually ending at the mouth of the Winisk River on Hudson Bay. But this trip would have one important difference: for only the second year in about a decade, I said no to filming.

Once committed to making a film, any situation on trip that is hard, beautiful, interesting or relevant demands that I pull out the camera and start recording—an all-encompassing task that inevitably changes the personal experience within the journey. After making back-to-back documentaries, it was time to let my artistic outlet lie fallow and rejuvenate. This summer the canoe trip itself—not the filming of it—would be front and center.

If art is the expression of individual freedom, emotion and creativity, says Frank Wolf, then the canoe trip must be its highest form

I grovel up a side gully to reach the top. Peering over the edge, the looming gap between my precarious perch and the distant water takes my breath away. I inhale, step into space and let out a hoot before exploding into the liquid below. Under the surface, I look up through rising bubbles at the cliff as it bends like a Dali painting in the expanding ripples.

Experiences like this accumulate like dirt and calluses over the course of a canoe trip, eroding the thin veneer of a modern, vicarious iPhone life to reveal a basic, animal core that exists in each of us. They are moments of pure freedom.

Painters are naturally drawn to certain processes and mediums—some choose oil, some acrylic, others go for watercolor. The key for the artist is to find something that feels right, the method and result that satisfies the creative self.

Similarly, individual canoe trippers approach the wilderness journey in their own unique ways. Some like to paddle to an island and chill out for a week. Others linger in camp, put in a few hours on the water and then linger in camp again. The beauty of canoe tripping is that it reflects the style of the individual and no matter how you go about it, the rewards are rich.

If a film or painting is considered to be art then canoe tripping is, in every sense, art.

Typical days on this journey have been 10 hours long with perhaps a half-hour break for lunch. We average almost 47 kilometers daily for the 24-day trip, including upstream, downstream, portages and dragging. I only sleep five hours a night because I’m so energized by every paddle stroke and aspect of this fresh environment that I want to jam as much action as possible into each moment.

Todd is setting up camp when I double-back along a rough 1,100-meter portage on the Witchwood River. I hop fallen logs and zigzag through the forest as fast as I possibly can. It’s a game to test my speed and agility and see how quickly I can retrieve the last pack. Turning a corner, a knobby spruce branch wedges perfectly between my front and back leg, catapulting me headfirst into the moss. I curse the branch and look down to see a long, deep laceration on the calf of my left leg and an ugly gouge on the shin of my right. Blood pours instantly from both wounds.

I get up and continue to run, first at a hobble and then at a steady, rhythmic clip. My clenched teeth relax into a smile and everything clarifies. Blood, moss, spruce and movement in the heart of the Little North. Life is simple and I am extremely happy.

I’ve been affected by a strain of madness perhaps, but on reflection it makes perfect sense. People are hardwired for this—to physically struggle and push our bodies in nature for extended periods of time. Our ancestors ran down prey and traveled under their own power for most of the million years or so of human existence. If time is a gauge, we are only a blip apart from that way of life—a blip filled with La-Z-Boy chairs and cheesecake, but a blip nonetheless. Much like the artist whose need to create is passed to them from the DNA of prehistoric cave painters, our genetics retain that need to move. Canoe tripping is a portal that allows us to tap into this tribal call.

Todd and I are in the Cree village of Peawanuck waiting for our plane to come and return us to urbana. In the meantime we’re hanging out at the house of the local Northern store manager, who generously offered us accommodation. I’m in the dining room hunched over a detailed map of Ontario, tracing a line over the blue veins and blotches of our completed route. I step back and admire the curves of the fresh line with a visual record of every campsite, lake and river etched in my mind.

I love making films about canoe journeys, but I realize now that making a film is simply adding another artistic layer to a thing that is itself utterly original and creative. Like an artist who is compelled to produce a painting on a blank canvas, the canoe tripper is compelled to step into a blank landscape, emerging at the end with the ultimate experience of a vision realized. If a film or painting is considered to be art then canoe tripping is, in every sense, art.

This article on art was published in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Spring 2012 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

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