Profile: Birchbark Builder

Stories

Photo: Tim Foley — Profile: Birchbark Builder

“I don’t paddle unless I have to,” says Pinock Smith with his characteristic wry smile.

For the Algonquin Indian, canoe building is all about the process, not the reward. It seems counter-intuitive that a builder who doesn’t paddle could possess the know-how and inspiration, but spend a day at one of Smith’s workshops and he’ll have you convinced.

Smith grew up surrounded by community on a reserve in western Quebec. “I was never formally taught,” he says, “but I’m not self-taught either.”

He learned to build birchbark canoes through hands-on experience and exposure— the same way he shares his craft with audiences across North America.

Smith worked as a guide, trapper and carpenter until one day he decided to build a birchbark canoe for himself. “That was some 11 years ago,” he laughs, “and I still don’t have my own boat.” Each unique canoe is sold or shared with his pupils.

Since his uncle first took him through the building process step-by-step, Smith has built hundreds of birchbark canoes using the traditional methods and materials of his ancestors. “We complicate our lives so much today,” he muses, surrounded by yards of birch bark, lengths of spruce root and tin pots filled with fragrant pine resin. “I don’t see why we need complicated tools and materials and exact measurements.” With no measuring tapes or rulers anywhere in sight, Smith admits, “I couldn’t make two canoes the same if I wanted to.”

Smith’s art is in many ways about simplicity, appreciation of beauty and a connection to nature. “Listen to what the bark tells you,” he coaches his students. While Smith is seeing a decline in the availability of quality, naturally occurring materials, he believes that the spiritual experience of building is worth his efforts to preserve and promote the craft.

In an age filled with new and improved, high tech and exacting standards, Smith’s attitude is as contagious as his smile. “If you make a boat and it floats pretty well, I’d say that’s a damn good canoe.”

This article on Pinock Smith was published in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots magazine. This article first appeared in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Random Acts of Canoeing

Stories

Photo: Ian Scriver — Random Acts of Canoeing

I paddled the Dumoine River once—from the bridge above Lac Benoit to its outflow at the Ottawa River. It’s definitely a trip best done at a nonchalant pace to fully appreci- ate the rough-hewn landscape. That’s the approach Canoeroots publisher Scott MacGregor and his family took on their trip down the Dumoine. That’s not how my trip went. It was never really supposed to.

A few years ago, my crew of three made a deal with our employer, a local outfitter, to help drive the Dumoine’s punishing shuttle. In return, we could familiarize ourselves with the route by running the river. The group we shuttled was scheduled to take the standard five days. When we started the drive, we had just 36 hours until we had to be back in the city and back at work.

The bullet trip went off without a hitch. We took advantage of much of what the river had to offer, albeit at a much swifter pace than most canoeists with banked vacation days.

I’ve talked with scores of paddlers, new and seasoned, and it never takes long for the conversation to turn to practical canoeing advice, trip anecdotes and yarns. But all too often, when I ask about personal exploits, people bow their heads and write off their experiences as insignificant.

I mull this over when I find myself compromising trip plans to satisfy relatively mundane commitments.

Constantly bombarded with stories of dramatic canoeing accomplishments, I get caught up in the desire to hold a candle to those making larger waves than my own.

Like many of the modest folks who blush when asked about their past on the water, my canoeing career has been arguably less than monumental. I have no first descents. I’ve never paddled across the country. I’ve never been hit by lightning.

After some 20 years paddling, my canoeing resume is filled with a disproportionate number of seemingly random acts of canoeing like that trip down the Dumoine. Even spending most days eating, sleeping and breathing paddling, I remain in the camp of canoeists unspectacularly accomplished on the water. Still, I keep my head up when people ask how my season is progressing.

Here and there I develop a technique, pass a weekend with friends in a canoe or head out after work for a quick tour. My status may be hovering somewhere in the neighborhood of Weekend Warrior but I’m proud that it has developed well beyond Armchair enthusiast.

When I consider my trip down the Dumoine, I wonder if I did it right. There’s so much to see on this river that by rushing downstream, missing things was unavoidable. Then I realize that given my alternative, there’s no doubt the run was worth doing. Any canoeing is better than no canoeing.

This article on paddling the Dumoine River was published in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2011 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine.

Lost Moves: Canoe Stunts Were Once Must-Have Skills

Stories

Photo: Courtesy of David Stringer Collection — Lost Moves: Canoe Stunts Were Once Must-Have Skills

Since the passing in March 2011 of canoe guru Captain Kirk Wipper, I’ve been thinking about one of the first amazing things I ever saw him do in a canoe—a headstand on the center thwart of a 16-foot, wood-canvas Peterborough Canadian.

Back when most rivers flowed the other way because the ice age had yet to come, proficiency in a canoe included a variety of novelty moves that any novice hungered to learn from the masters.

Take Omer Stringer, a contemporary of Wipper’s, and his mesmerizing effect on young paddlers.

Stringer mastered all the functional canoeing and portaging skills as a guide and general factotum in Algonquin Park.

But in the 1960s he crisscrossed the province demonstrating canoe stunts—a kind of canoeing that is all but gone today, lost in the rush of getting certified and carded up.

I vividly remember Omer standing on the dock at Camp Kandalore, describing headstands and shakeouts and all the cool stuff you could do in a canoe. As he was talking, his canoe, which floated behind him untethered, drifted gently away from the dock. Kids in the audience got agitated, pointing and calling out to Omer: “Your canoe is floating away!”

Totally unconcerned, he kept talking. Then, with the power of a gymnast and the timing of a circus showman, he did a standing broad jump from the dock into the moving canoe, clearing a couple yards or more without missing a beat in his discourse. Howls of approval pealed out from the audience.

There were other tricks as well. Canoe over canoe is a rescue technique, of course. But the term also referred to a stunt performed regularly during free canoeing at camps throughout the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s.

The stuntman or woman sat behind the stern seat and paddled like crazy toward a willing participant in another canoe. Lining up for a T-bone collision, the stunt involved ramping the moving canoe as far as possible over the mid-ships of the stationary canoe. Next, in one fluid motion, the paddler stood and ran up the moving boat until it balanced over the stationary canoe, and then see-sawed down on the other side. At this point, the paddler settled in and continued on his or her merry way. Canoe over canoe.

The spectacular headstand was something that many Kandalore campers felt compelled to learn if ever they were to paddle like a master. Training for the headstand included the monkey walk—turning 360 degrees in a canoe with hands and feet on the gunwales—and progressed to the flip—spinning the canoe on its longitudinal axis, above the water, without sinking it.

Adding a second person opened doors to gunwale bobbing, jousting and the double headstand.

Since Kirk and Omer were doing their stunts, and encouraging others to do the same, canoeing has evolved. The glamor of these tricks has faded, lost to historic irrelevance. Maybe today’s leaders should sit down and delineate a curriculum for Flatwater Stunting levels I, II and III certification. A flashy badge could be awarded to those who achieve Master Stuntman status.

Why would you want to do a headstand in a canoe on flatwater? It’s a bit like practicing Zen. A path to enlightenment known only to the great canoe masters of old and those willing to wade in and give it a whirl.

James Raffan mastered the monkey walk in graduate school and is still working on his headstand.

This article on canoe stunts was published in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Base Camp: Little People Camping

Stories

Photo: Scott MacGregor — Base Camp: Little People Camping

Doug and Kate have been using sleeping bags as blankets since before they moved into big-kid beds. We just tossed a bag in the crib one day. We do get sideways looks from some parents—parents who buy their kids matching frilly sleep sets.

Horrible parenting you say? It was the best thing we ever did. Hear me out.

Sleeping bags make every night feel like camping; they make every road trip to Grandma’s, every strange bed and every tent feel just as familiar as sleeping at home. Now four and six, Kate and Doug still curl up in their sleeping bags every night. Someday they may grow out of it and ask for real bedding. Although it might be a while—I spent six years of university slumming in a sleeping bag.

My wife and I have taken this concept one step further.

Before a canoe trip, we haul out the kids’ 30-litre blue barrels (used in place of a canoe pack on river trips because the barrels stay bone dry) and put one outside each bedroom. They pack their own camp clothes. Then anything else that fits they can take.

They spend the day sorting through Lego Club magazines, stuffed animals and flowery dresses. We perform pre-trip toy swim tests in the tub. Sinkers go in the barrel. Toys that float are okay to stay in the canoe. Fisher Price Little People float and My Little Ponies don’t, in case you’re wondering.

The idea is to allow them to bring things that are familiar, to ease the transition from inside to outdoors.

We’re also teaching the reality of camping—you can’t bring everything. Electronics are banned, but otherwise their choice of comforts is limited only by the size of their barrels and the ingenuity of their packing. I once found Berenstain Bears in my nighttime reading. “We packed books for you, Daddy.” Clever little suckers aren’t they?

In a world that is changing so quickly, there is a simple familiarity in daily routines. As much as camping is an escape from our routines of work, home, school and traffic, for children, routine is the pine tar that holds them together. The essential routines we fight so strongly to maintain around home are just as important on camping trips. especially my favorite: Jammies… teeth… stories… and into their sleeping bags.

Peace, at last.

This article on packing for camping was published in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

The Dumoine

Stories

All Photos: Scott MacGregor — The Dumoine

During the summer months of 2010, more people paddled down the Dumoine River than ever before. With incredibly low water levels in surrounding watersheds, vans and canoe trailers were rerouted from their local runs toward the rock garden rapids of this classic whitewater river.

But low water is not the only factor contributing to higher concentrations of paddlers on the Dumoine. Restrictions are easing in school systems allowing whitewater back into outdoor curriculums. A relatively new forest road allows more convenient access. Financial and program objectives are forcing outfitters and camps to travel in larger groups—it’s cheaper to run one large trip than three smaller ones. And the Wild West management strategy on the Dumoine does little more than take a per-head fee to control access; so the more the merrier in their eyes. There is no maximum group size, no route planning and no staggered starts. Compared to rivers in surrounding provincial parks like Algonquin, the Dumoine is a free-for-all.

Some worry this perfect storm is putting too much pressure on the area once considered pristine. And so, I spent six days last summer picking my way down the Dumoine with my family and Canoeroots contributor Brian Shields. I wanted to see firsthand what all the fuss was about.

The Dumoine falls over 39 rapids along its 129 kilometers from its source in Machin Lake near La Verendrye Wildlife Reserve in western Quebec. The jewel of the whitewater canoeing Triple Crown, it flows south off the Canadian Shield into the Ottawa River upstream of its sister rivers, the Noire and Coulonge. All three are popular whitewater routes.

The Dumoine is considered the best.

We drove two hours from our home in the Madawaska Valley and camped our first night in Driftwood Provincial Park on the Ontario side of the Ottawa River. This would be our take-out where we’d leave our truck and where we’d meet Wally Schaber and the Trailhead shuttle van. Trailhead is one of three operators now running shuttles up the Dumoine.

We’d planned to meet early so that we’d be at Bridge Rapids, our put-in above Lac Benoît, for lunch. Then it was a short paddle to Little Italy, a boot-shaped sandy spit and popular first-night campsite.

Before the new access road you had two options: paddle down from Lac Dumoine another 40 kilometers upstream or fly in with bush pilot and owner of Bradley Air Service, Ron Bowes in his 1951 de Havilland Beaver.

For 35 years, Bowes flew canoeists into the Dumoine River valley acting as both transportation and wilderness turnstile, limiting and controlling access with each drop.

“Back then crowding wasn’t a problem. Ronnie kept a keen eye on the groups. He was pretty good at dropping you at an open site and then nudging you along so that you’d be evenly spaced apart,” Wally tells me as we tie down our canoes to his van. “Somehow in those days there seemed to be more class to it.”

I have to admit stepping off the left float of a Beaver is more romantic than the three-hour teeth chattering rattle north into Quebec. Trailhead goes through three sets of shocks a season and sells off their shuttle vans every three years. I made a note to never buy a used white passenger van in Ottawa.

With the increase in fuel prices and a change of ownership from Bradley Air to Air Swisha, the flight almost doubled in price overnight. At about the same time, forestry operations opened a logging road north from Grand Chute linking to Bush Road #819 providing real public access to the most popular section of the Dumoine.

With my wife, Tanya, and Brian asleep in the back seats of the van, the kids plugged into the DVD player, I rode shotgun next to Wally for a three-hour history lesson about the river.

Near the end of the First World War, the boys camp, Keewaydin, pioneered recreational canoe tripping on the Dumoine. From their Lake Temagami base, the boys jumped in green cedar canvas canoes, heading out for four weeks. At Lac Benoît, the campers met up with their river guides. Keewaydin hired J.R. Booth lumbermen to lead the groups down the 60 kilometers of challenging whitewater. We had Brian.

At the peak of the log drive 3,000 men worked the river.

The true Dumoine wilderness was being floated down the rapids toward the Ottawa River.

Massive old-growth pine would then find its way to england and the United States to be used for things like ocean liner decks.

Even the Keewaydin teenagers wouldn’t have known the Dumoine as a wilderness river. Trees closer to the river were easy picking, the first to be cut and splashed into the water. Supply depots and large farms, like the Rowanton Depot with 75 acres of wheat, 200 head of cattle and a post office, provided for the loggers. By 1918, the camp boys may have been paddling through a shoreline of scrubby second growth. However, by the early ‘70s, farming mostly abandoned, the banks of the Dumoine were rejuvenated, ready for adventure.

In 1972, Wally and his partner Chris Harris pioneered wilderness canoe tripping on the Dumoine. Their 1978 Black Feather Wilderness Adventures brochure describes the river as a, “superb wild river, offering beautiful scenery, a variety of whitewater challenges, good fishing. The river is paradise for all canoeists willing to put in the effort to cross the watershed and reach its headwaters.”

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It was Wally who first tipped me off to the increased pressures caused by easy access and larger groups.

“When I look back over 40 years, I’ve seen a slow erosion of the campsites and the wilderness experience,” Wally told me. “It started back in the ‘80s with the introduction of Royalex canoes and Therm-a-Rests.”

Although many consider the heyday to have been 20 years ago, roughly the same number of people are still going down the river today. The difference is that trips are now concentrated into a two-month window. Like my family, most canoeists today want perfect summer weather, lower flows and no bugs.

We stepped out of the van for a stretch at Grand Chute—about the halfway point of our shuttle. Boundless High School was also stopped for a stretch. Teenagers leaned against the mini school bus- es swatting flies and punching each other in the shoulder, as excited about the trip as we were.

Boundless is an outfit that runs 10 or so trips down the Dumoine in July and August. Adrian Meissner is their director of operations. He realizes Boundless is one of the heavy users of the Dumoine. I counted 10 tandem canoes tied on their tandem axle trailer.

“Developing social skills and teamwork can only be done in larger groups. And to run a river like the Dumoine with new paddlers, we like to maintain a three-to-one student to staff ratio,” Adrian wipes a mosquito off his neck. “We need a river that allows longer trips with challenging but not over-the-top whitewater. The Dumoine is perfect.”

Smaller, private groups flown in from ice-out to late fall by Ronnie Bowes’s Beaver have been replaced by busloads of inner-city teens. There are four large groups on the river with us this weekend—approximately 80 people stretched over the 60-kilometer run.

“The nice thing about river travel is that everyone moves at roughly the same pace; we may never see another group. If we do, we just plan our days so we aren’t tripping over each other,” Adrian tells me.

I began this trip watching out for trash. We had a loose plan putting us at the nicest and most used campsites: Little Italy on Benoît, Little Steel, Lake Robinson and Margaret Spry. I was looking for the telltale signs of overuse. I checked every fire pit for burned bean cans and crumbled bits of tinfoil. Nothing. I scanned campsites for plastic bread ties, juice box straw wrappers and half buried toilet paper.

Twice a year Boundless sends staff down the Dumoine, partly to train new guides and partly to look after the river.

“We know we are heavy users of the river and so we do our share to keep it clean,” Meissner explained. Staff paddle in with saws, shovels and new thunder boxes and paddle out with any debris they find. “I believe the increased use by camps and outfitters has actually cleaned up the river over the last five years. Looking after the river is part of our curriculum and part of camp culture.”

I didn’t have the same 40 years of Dumoine experiences as Wally Schaber. I hadn’t smoked a pipe and drawn every rock in every rapid like Hap Wilson did for his Rivers of the Upper Ottawa Valley. I hadn’t watched the best campsites sprawl to accommodate a dozen tents. I was paddling the Dumoine for the first time—with a fresh perspective.

At Bowman’s Portage, what the locals call Ryan’s Chute, we’d paddle only a short distance to where the Dumoine pushes into the Ottawa River and then 2.5 kilometers across to Ontario and our truck. Motorboats can access this site and it shows—we stuffed our pockets with nested fishing line and granola bar wrappers, and tossed a dozen empty beer cans in the canoe. This was the first trash we’d seen on the river in six days.

I was still thinking about the future of this river as my kids carried the last of their things to the truck.

The Dumoine is the last undammed, free-flowing tributary to the Ottawa River.

Ironically, the most significant change to come will likely be the success of conservation groups lobbying to create a type of wild river park to protect the Dumoine from hydro development. With any level of protection comes special status; with status comes increased awareness and surely more marketing to increase use to justify a government budget. I’ve come to accept that this is just how it goes.

There may have been a progressive erosion of the wilderness experience, but I wouldn’t know that, nor would my children. It’s the next 30 years that will matter most. Certainly it will to them. If the Dumoine is ever challenged by hydro development, the more people down the river, the more people will care and fight to protect it. And if we were to lose that fight, then all this fuss about the campsites getting a little trampled will seem a bit silly.

This article on the Dumoine River was published in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Summer Vacations Made Easy

Trips

Photo: Bruce Kirkby — Summer Vacations Made Easy

Looking for the perfect combo of spectacular camping and family-friendly activities and amenities? Whether you love mountains, ocean beaches or remote lakes—you don’t need to tackle backcountry logistics; many front-country stays have much to offer. Spending even a few days in these park campgrounds will help transform your family vacation into an endless summer. remember, to avoid disappointment and score the finest campsites, reserve well in advance.

Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

Shenandoah National Park offers accessible hiking, canoeing and leafy campsites amid the lush Carolinian forest of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Pitch your tents at Matthew’s Arm Campground and hike 6.5 miles roundtrip to 93-foot Overall Run Falls, the tallest waterfall in the park. Alternatively, Big Meadows Campground is located close to many popular trails and three more waterfalls. Visit the Big Meadows amphithe- atre for a Birds of Prey presentation or join a ranger for a rare plants interpretive hike. Escape the summer heat by renting a canoe from a local outfitter and floating down the famous Shenandoah River.

Prince Edward Island National Park, Prince Edward Island

Travel to the north shore of Prince Edward Island for a relaxed vacation exploring sprawling beaches and distinctive red cliffs. Prince Edward Island National Park’s Cavendish Campground offers numerous sites within easy walking distance of the soft white sand and warm water of supervised Cavendish Beach. Build a sandcastle, explore one of a dozen short trails or pedal the eight-kilometre Homestead Trail. Rent a kayak to discover Rustico Harbour’s lighthouse and sheltered tidal flats, or join an interpretive hike through the dunes at Greenwich.

Bruce Peninsula National Park, Ontario

Towering above the azure water of Georgian Bay, the gleaming limestone cliffs of the Niagara Escarpment were once the shore of an ancient sea and are now a designated UNESCO Biosphere Preserve. From Cyprus Lake Campground, a moderate hike will bring you to spectacular lookouts on the Bruce Trail and to the Grotto, a large sea cave that can be explored by swimming or climbing. Admire the 1,000-year-old cedars, check out the numerous fossils, or take the plunge with the ranks of other kids perched along Indian Cove’s deep-water cliffs. For more adventures, check out park interpretive programs such as Snakes on the Sands and Trekking by Twilight.

Kluane National Park, Yukon Territory

For dramatic northern beauty and an unforgettable family vacation, it’s worth the drive to the vast wilderness of Kluane National Park. Camping at the rustic Lake Kathleen Campground combines a sense of wilderness with easy access to hiking and paddling. Join the park staff for a campfire presentation or a weekly interpretive hike through boreal forest on the easy Dezadeash Trail. Drive north of Haines Junction to the Tachäl Dhäl (Sheep Mountain) Visitor Centre and watch flocks of Dall’s sheep from the viewing decks. For an once-in-a-lifetime treat, splurge on a glacier flight over the rugged interior of Kluane Park.

Superior National Forest and Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, Minnesota

Introduce your family to the true spirit of wilderness camping with a visit to Minnesota’s Land of 10,000 Lakes. With over one million acres of lakes, rivers and forest, this area offers incomparable wilderness canoeing and a network of 23 front-country campgrounds. While the Boundary Waters are most famous for extended canoe tripping, more developed campgrounds such as South Kawishiwi River give a taste of the wild combined with amenities like running water and group shelters. Located just 10 miles from the town of Ely, South Kawishiwi offers canoe rentals and easy access to short or long paddling excursions.

Pacific Rim National Park, British Columbia

Watch the powerful waves roll shoreward in Pacific Rim National Park. Of the park’s three distinct areas, the Long Beach section is most accessible and child friendly. From Green’s Point Campground, you can easily walk to the ocean or cycle along the smooth sand with the snowy peaks of interior Vancouver Island as a backdrop. Rent sea kayaks or hire a water taxi in nearby Tofino to visit Meares Island and hike through groves of giant cedars. Organized park activities include exploring the diversity of Long Beach’s tidal flats, daily rainforest walks and cultural programs about the Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations.

Sandbanks Provincial Park, Ontario

Huge sand dunes and miles of golden beaches make Sandbanks Provincial Park a popular summer destination. The campsites near the inlet have near-tropical water in summer while the more exposed Lake Ontario side of the park has good waves for boogie boarding and body surfing. Ride your bikes (rentals available) along gently rolling country roads past old Loyalist farmsteads, smugglers’ coves, pick-your-own orchards and tempting ice cream parlors. Try your hand at sand sculptures at the annual Sand Fest or visit the park amphitheatre for evening interactive presentations about Sandbanks’ natural and cultural history.

This article on family camping destinations was published in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Betcha Didn’t Know About… Salamanders

Stories

Photo: iStock.com — Betcha Didn't Know About... Salamanders

Salamanders have 10 times more DNA in each cell than humans do and can live as long as 30 years.
The largest salamander is the Chinese giant, which can grow up to six feet long.
The term “siren” is generally applied to salamanders that have lungs as well as gills. Other names salamanders go by include olm, axolotl, spring lizard, water dog, mud puppy, hellbender, triton and Congo eel.
All newts are salamanders. Except Newt Gingrich—he’s a Republican.
Salamanders’ forelimbs have four toes each and their hind limbs each have five. None of their toes have claws.
A key ingredient in witches’ brews, eye of newt is thought to be a common name for a medicinal herb, not the eye of a living newt. It refers to mustard seed, believed to have magical properties of enhanced fertility and mental fortitude.
like some types of lizard, salamanders can regenerate legs or tails lost in predatory attacks.
The rough-skinned newt, found in the Pacific Northwest, produces enough poison to kill a human.
The word salamander comes from the Greek words for fire lizard.
Carrie Henn played the resourceful, wild-haired girl, Newt, alongside Sigourney Weaver in the movie Aliens. Henn never acted professionally again. Instead, she became a schoolteacher.

This article on salamanders was published in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2011 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Skills: Shoot the River Like the Pros

Skills

Photo: Darin McQuoid — Skills: Shoot the River Like the Pros

If you’ve never wished you could capture the pulse- quickening feeling of a rapid or the expression on a friend’s face just above a drop to share and enjoy later, then might we suggest skipping this article. But if, like most paddlers, you recognize the power of an evocative photograph, there are no better teachers than the talent we’ve tapped for the very first Rapid Photo Issue.

COMPOSITION IS KEY

Spend time achieving a deliberte composition. To do this, I frame the scene and let the paddler move through. With experience you’ll know where the paddler is trying to go and anticipate the crux moment.

The only time you may want to follow a paddler through a rapid is in big water or for a generic, up-close paddling shot.

FOR STRIKING IMAGES, REMEMBER THESE RULES:

The best shot is never from your boat and rarely from river level. Getting a good angle requires hiking.
Put the paddler at the edge of the frame, not the center.
Leave space for the paddler to move into—this builds suspense. Shoot for the moment of anticipation and create drama with the unknown.
Don’t tilt the lens to make a drop look steeper than it is—this is always obvious and looks tacky.
Shoot more than just the rapid—river canyons are beautiful!

If you have the time, shoot a lot. Try a different angle or zoom setting for every person that runs the rapid. You’ll learn a lot about what works, and what doesn’t.

METHODS OF ADJUSTMENT

STOP: A stop is a measured amount of light that is consistent across all methods of adjust- ment. For example, you can correct an underexposed image in one or a combination of three ways: slow down your shutter speed, open your aperture, or speed up your ISO by the required number of stops. On a bright sunny day, I’ll generally start off with a shutter speed of 1/800, ap- erture F/8, ISO 100. Then I’ll check the histogram and adjust as necessary, starting with aperture.

APERTURE: Along with shutter speed, aper- ture—or F-stop—controls the amount of light reaching the sensor. The numbering seems backwards—the smaller the number, the larger the aperture. Larger apertures permit low light shooting without sacrificing action-freezing shutter speed, but reduce the depth of field—the amount of fore-, mid- and background that is in focus.

SHUTTER SPEED: Faster shutter speeds stop action but don’t let in much light so they are challenging to use in deep, dark river canyons. Slower shutter speeds expose the sensor to more light, but moving objects like water, kayakers and paddles will blur. I consider 1/500 the absolute minimum when trying to freeze action. A better range is 1/800 to 1/1250. Shutter speed is the weakest of the three methods for adjust- ing exposure, because you only gain one stop of light going from 1/1000 to 1/500.

ISO: The digital equivalent to film speed. Lower ISO speeds absorb less light than higher ISO but retain better detail and color and less noise (digi- speak for grainy looking photos). As a rule, keep your ISO as low as possible for the situation.

SHOOT FOR THE LIGHT

Understanding light consists of a few basic rules mixed with experience. The most common mistake is to choose your angle for the rapid, not the light.

Early on, I thought sunny days were best for shooting action, since they allow medium apertures, fast shutters and low ISO speeds. Unfortunately they also limit your ability to shoot the angle you want.

Sometimes it can take years to get a shot because you have to camp at a certain location to shoot in the morning, on a run that flows only once a year. As you repeat rivers, remember key locations to shoot from, and what time of day will give you good light from that angle.

The most basic rule for whitewater lighting is to shoot with the sun behind you. It’s as simple as checking your shadow. This reduces glare, improves color saturation and, if the sun is low enough, lights up the paddler’s face. On the West Coast, this means shooting downstream in the morning and upstream in the afternoon. Vice versa on the right coast. At mid-day you are more or less limited to an overhead shot. If you have no option to get the sun behind you, use a good polarizer.

Although it is tricky since we can’t paddle in the dark, try to shoot near dusk and dawn for the most dramatic soft lighting.

If you’re shooting in the shade, try to exclude any direct sunlight from the frame, unless you see a specific bright spot that will highlight your subject. Don’t be afraid of mixed lighting when it can work to your advantage.

My favorite condition is when high cloud cover causes the light to naturally “lightbox.” Lightboxes are used for studio shoots and disperse the light so it’s even from all angles. You will need fast lenses or a camera with good high-ISO performance to maximize the light on these days, but you can shoot from your angle of choice with nice, even lighting.

GETTING THE RIGHT EXPOSURE

Any bright day on the river has a large dynamic range. This means that there is a vast difference from light to dark. Our eyes are amazing at taking in large dynamic ranges, while cameras are quite limited. Left to their own de- vices, cameras overexpose whitewater making it pure white and losing texture.

Welcome to the world of the histogram.

I shoot with my camera set to manual mode and adjust the exposure myself, using the histogram to achieve the right exposure. The histogram is a graph of the light captured by the camera sensor. It is the perfect tool for getting the correct exposure.

The most natural look for a scene where the dynamic range is too great is to adjust the exposure so detail is lost in the shadows (the left side of the histogram) but not the highlights—otherwise the image will appear washed out.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, the correct exposure for whitewater should look like the images at left. The graph needs to drop down before the right edge of the histogram to preserve highlight (whitewater) detail.

FINDING FOCUS

Another make or break component to any action shot is sharp focus. Digital cameras focus best on areas with straight lines and high contrast, not exactly the prime features of whitewater.

Switch your auto-focus from the shutter release to the AF-ON or AE-L/ AF-L button. Also put your camera in continuous AF mode for greater accuracy. You can find out how to do this in the manual of any DSLR.

I use the central AF point on my camera and focus using AF-ON to the anticipated crux and paddler visibility. Then I reframe my shot to the original composition and wait for the paddler to move through.

If the camera struggles to lock focus where you want, look for an outstanding object like a rock the same distance away and use that as your focus point.

When following a paddler through a big water or up-close shot, choose the furthest outside AF sensor that will put the paddler moving into the frame, and then hold down the AF-ON button and keep the sensor over the paddler as they move past. Use this same strategy for panning (see below).

If your camera has focus tracking with lock-on, set the delay to normal or longer so waves or objects passing by in the foreground don’t distract the AF.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2011 issue of Rapid Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Rapid’s print and digital editions here.

Gull Race: A Race for Everyone

Stories

Photo: Marilyn Scriver — Gull Race: A Race for Everyone

Thirty-one years ago, the first Gull River Open Canoe Slalom Race took place at the Minden Whitewater Preserve in Ontario. Since then, the event has become a classic, serving as a model for engaging new paddlers and growing grassroots participation, all while retaining top-level competitors.

Whitewater canoeing groundbreakers Wendy Grater, Fred Loosemore, George Drought, Jim MacLachlan and Maureen Bretz founded the event. “At the time, you could only race on a gated course at decked-boat slalom events,” says Bretz. “We felt there was a need for a slalom event just for open canoes.” During the first few years, 17-foot tandem tripping boats with truck in- ner tubes for flotation dominated the river. “There were almost no dedicated solo boats,” recalls Bretz.

Slalom canoeing rewards both strength and experience. This led to the addition of a Master’s class during the race’s second decade, for the growing set of men over 40, tired of being outdone by the young summer camp guides, home after a season on the river.

In 2003, the category was expanded further. “The first year I was coordinating the event, we introduced a solo class for Women’s Masters,” says then race director and medalist, Beth Kennedy. “There were only a handful of paddlers that first year but the class has since grown to the same size as the Women’s Solo category.”

Last year—the event’s 30th anniversary—a new category was added once again, as aging race organizers vied for glory and hardware. The Legend’s class gives men and women over 55 a break from the now crowded Master’s class. Before the introduc- tion of the Legend’s category, the same boaters consistently won the Master’s. “The over 40 class was starting to get crowded, with most of the best paddlers now qualifying for that category,” says longtime competitor, Peter Farr. “It’s great to be able to race in the Legend’s class where there’s room to move up the standings.”

CREATING A FAMILY-ORIENTED RACE

The Gull Race has also evolved into a family gathering. The Solo Men’s, Women’s and Junior’s classes consist of a range of paddlers from North American champions to those who dust off their canoes for their third or fourth run of the season. The Junior–Senior Tandem class usually consists of proudly grinning parents paddling with their children, like Rapid publisher Scott MacGregor and his son, Doug. “Racing with Dougie is the most fun I’ve had at the Gull,” says MacGregor. “We started racing together when he was four.” Doug’s medals hang on his bedpost all year long.

As modern whitewater open boating matures, so do pioneers like Bretz who continues to compete every year. “Where else can you see a competitive, challenging slalom race where the youngest competitor is three and the oldest is in their 70s?” says Bretz. “It serves as a breeding ground for new paddlers, having junior boaters mentored by others.”

With a record number of race starts there is clearly a demand for competitive, family-oriented events like the Gull Race where world-class open boaters race alongside legends in the making.

Mark Scriver enters the Gull Race yearly. While he’s creeping up on Legend status, he also keeps up with his sons. For more info on the event, visit www.whitewaterontario.ca.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2011 issue of Rapid Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Rapid’s print and digital editions here.

Carbon Boats: Who Needs Them?

Stories

Photo: Patrick Camblin — Carbon Boats: Who Needs Them?

The recent rash of carbon fiber playboats from mainstream kayak companies —think Wave Sport, Jackson and Fluid with Pyranha poised to follow—and specialized manufacturers like freestyle sector upstarts Black Sheep, Titan, ZET and Vajda, has some kayakers wondering: who needs carbon, anyway? Can it really make the average playboater that much better or is this just a new toy to keep the pro paddlers happy?

Black Sheep Kayaks designer and builder Dave Nieuwenhuis says, “The upper echelon of freestyle paddlers are the ones buying or ex- pressing interest in carbon boats. The majority of kayakers couldn’t justify owning a carbon boat simply because of where they paddle.”

Why does it matter where you paddle? Rocks.

Nieuwenhuis compares a carbon boat to a high-end sports car, “Your Ferrari might soak up a few bumps and your carbon boat should handle a few rocks, but do you really want to test that out?”

This means you need to avoid shallow features, sliding down the banks into the water and throwing it in the back of your truck to rattle around. And you really ought to tuck it into a soft, cozy boat bag to prevent scratches and sun damage.

The other disadvantage for the average boater is the hefty price tag— about two grand more than a plastic counterpart. For some serious riders, however, the siren song of carbon is simply irresistible. Canadian Freestyle Team member Keegan Grady worked all winter to save up enough money to buy a carbon boat, “It’s the best investment I’ve made in my riding to date.”

REACTIONARY AND SUPER LIGHTWEIGHT

So what makes carbon such a good investment? More stiffness and less weight. Nieuwenhuis explains, “Although a plastic boat may appear to be stiff on the water, the upward deflection of the plastic hull is unavoidable. It’s simply the nature of the material. Carbon boats with foam cores have zero hull deformation and the result is an incredibly stiff surf that gives the truest sensation of floating. They surf like nothing else.”

The feathery weight of carbon is equally important. “Carbon boats are extremely responsive and seemingly effortless in comparison to similar plastic boats,” Nieuwenhuis continues. Which is why more and more pro freestyle paddlers are converting to composite.

Level Six Capital Cup 2011 champion and carbon advocate Adam Chappell says, “It took awhile to dial in tricks because the boat was so reactive on a wave. Now I don’t think I could ever go back to paddling plastic.”

At the 2009 Freestyle World Championships in Thun, Switzerland, plastic boats dominated a smattering of then just-emerging composite rides. Still, when this magazine went to press, carbon ruled the quivers of top paddlers competing at this summer’s Worlds.

So, despite their disadvantages for the average paddler, carbon boats clearly have their place on the water. But do they make you a better boater? Not according to Grady, “Carbon boats are an undeniable advantage, but I think the best rider will win regardless. The 2009 Worlds were a testament to that.”

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2011 issue of Rapid Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Rapid’s print and digital editions here.

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