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Towing: Mind Over Matter

Photo: Lyn Stone
Towing: Mind Over Matter

When we consider towing, we tend to think about rope. We carry a tow belt with a sturdy carabiner as well as a short, deck-mounted tow rope with a quick-release, and we use them to help paddlers who are exhausted, overwhelmed, injured, or drifting into a danger zone.

We wouldn’t paddle without these essential pieces of safety equipment. But sometimes, we can best help a timid or tired paddler with the most powerful piece of equipment in anyone’s kit: the mind.

Robert Schrack, co-owner and chief instructor at Adventure Crafters Paddle Centre in Maryland, coined the term “psychological tow” to explain this technique. If you’re an instructor or guide, or a skilled paddler who has taken less experienced people out on the water, you may already have used this tow without realizing it. But recognizing what it is and when it’s appropriate can enable you to bring it out more quickly and use it more effectively.

Frequently, inexperienced paddlers reach their limits before others in a group. They may be freaked out by waves or wind, or simply tired out by too much exertion or the conditions they find themselves in, and they need some help to complete the planned journey. You can usually see evidence in their posture, strokes and demeanor. They may lag behind the group, wobble, use tentative strokes or be unusually quiet.

We’re often taught that this is the time to tow them. Sometimes it is. But doing so has a downside: It can embarrass or discourage the struggling paddler when he may be capable of rising to the challenge. And in the case of rough water, it might make things worse.

Instead, you can use the psychological tow: “Keep going. Keep your hips loose. That’s great. Keep paddling. Nice work. It’ll be easier if you get your entire blade in the water.”

Youcaninstructthemabit,encouragethem a lot, and help them focus ahead on where you’re going instead of on where they are.“You see that tower? We’re going to land just to the right of it.” You can also point out interesting features of the place you’re paddling. “That lighthouse over there has the largest Fresnel lens on the Great Lakes.” By paddling close to them and sounding relaxed, offering a mix of small talk and advice, you can enable them to make it on their own.

That’s the psychological tow. Having a term for it is not only satisfying, in the same way as knowing the names of birds or mushrooms. It’s practical.

By placing the psychological tow in the category of tows, it reminds us to try this first before a more invasive intervention. And it gives the struggling paddler a well-earned sense of accomplishment. 

Screen_Shot_2015-07-27_at_12.46.47_PM.pngThis article first appeared in the Early Summer 2010 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.

Reading the River

Photo: flickr.com/raybouk
Reading the River

For nearly 30 years, the great rivers, lakes and forests in my beautiful home province of New Brunswick have been telling me stories. They tell tales of patient grandfathers, with their grandsons, baiting hooks and cleaning fresh trout, that teach about love and family. They also tell despicable stories about polluters and the ugly things poachers do with spotlights and axes and .410 rifles.

If you listen close enough, the Canadian landscape will reveal to you the truth of your own humanity. For nearly 30 years, I did not listen. In fact, it wasn’t until May 18, 2008, that I was forced to sit up straight and pay attention.

As I was coming about to help my best friend, Jay, who had capsized when a quartering wave caught him trying to fasten his stern hatch, I too flipped over and plunged into the six-degree water of the Kennebecasis River in Rothesay, N.B. where we stayed, clinging to the hulls of our kayaks, for nearly 45 minutes.

When their efforts to help us climb back into our boats failed, my wife, Carrie, and Jay’s wife, Danielle, through their tears, paddled hard into the wind and made for shore in their tandem. By the time the rescue boat reached me, my muscles had begun to seize up and my speech was impaired. The ambulance attendant told me another 20 minutes in the water could have been fatal.

Though it’s almost impossible to glean all that nature has to teach when you’re wrapped up in the present moment of a life or death situation, time can reveal many life-lessons to you about the role our human potential can play within the environment.

For instance, time has provided me with the opportunity to hear Jay’s story of how when the rescue boat stopped to pick him up, he waved them on, telling them to get me first. It has allowed me to watch carrie bravely relive those desperate minutes as she told her story of their stoical, two-kilometre race to shore and the helpless feeling of leaving Jay and I clinging to our kayaks in the middle of that churning river. Furthermore, in the two years since it has happened, I have learned to be more present with the people in my life, particularly with my wife. I’ve discovered that our bond has strengthened because we’ve shared an experience that was so rife with raw human emotion. I don’t remember a time before when either of us had ever been so disarmed and so present with one another. The only other time that has happened since was when our son, Hunter, was born almost a year later.

Henry David Thoreau wrote that “we are enabled to apprehend…what is sublime and noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of the reality that surrounds us.”

I believe that our environment provides opportunities for us to explore the nuances of our own humanity, to discover truthful narratives about ourselves as we evolve within the landscape and, hopefully, by listening to the stories, we might all discover those qualities of beauty and nobility. 

Richard T. Sparkes is a writer, teacher and avid outdoorsman who lives in rural Prince Edward Island with his wife, Carrie, and their son, Hunter. 

Screen_Shot_2015-07-27_at_12.46.47_PM.pngThis article first appeared in the Early Summer 2010 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.

Editorial: The Slow Kayaking Manifesto

Photo: John Irvine
Editorial: The Slow Kayaking Manifesto

Foodies know that faster is not necessarily better, but do kayakers?

Carlo Petrini founded the Slow Food movement in Italy in 1986 to recapture the pleasure of eating from the incivilities of fast food culture, to “seek a slower and more aware pace of life.”

According to the movement’s founding document, The Slow Food Manifesto: “We are enslaved by speed and have all succumbed to the same insidious virus: Fast Life, which disrupts our habits, pervades the privacy of our homes and forces us to eat fast foods…. Homo Sapiens should rid himself of speed before it reduces him to a species in danger of extinction.”

Maybe it’s time for a Slow Kayaking Manifesto. There’s no better time than now, in this issue where we have a feature focusing entirely on going fast.

Hey, I’m not saying I know how to relax. Just ask my wife. She’d tell you to rip out this page and use it to fertilize your vegetables. I have a long history of speed addiction, on and off the water.

That’s why I know that we need to be extra careful not to always carry the hamster wheel mentality of our work lives into our recreation.

In these days of adventure racing mania and the media obsession with speed expeditions (always easier to report on than just another great trip) I think we need to pause to remem- ber the value of going slow.

This summer we are witnessing yet another record attempt around Vancouver Island, with the indefatigable Joe O’Blenis setting out to beat Brit powerhouse Sean morley’s 17-day circumnavigation.

Then we have Freya Hoffmeister for whom it wasn’t enough to be the second person in his- tory, and first woman, to kayak around Australia. She called her expedition a “race” and set out to beat a time set by only one other kayaker a quarter century ago.

Why should the people who go the fastest get all the attention?

Wouldn’t it be better for our sport to be known for its lifestyle, the way surfing is with its culture of Jack Johnson tunes, board shorts and scruffy kids on skateboards—a culture of leisure?

Leisure is the polar opposite of trying to paddle as fast as possible around a landmass. It’s a near spiritual state of mind—a state of play, a creative and meditative mindset. It’s apart from and opposite to the ultra rational state of mind that dominates our everyday lives—in which time is better spent at a desk earning money than it is walking outside breathing fresh air— and dominates our society that values fast cars more than the clean efficiency of bicycles.

I would rather people look at sea kayakers and say, “I want to live like that” than “those dudes are crazy!”

Yes, partly I’m just jealous. When I read about morley or O’Blenis racing around Van- couver Island, I wish I could be there with them. Taking time away to do nothing but paddle is a dream. I’d love to know how fast I could go. And even at top speed, kayaking is still leisure.

But let’s also celebrate our slow side.

In the words of The Slow Food Manifesto: “may suitable doses of guaranteed sensual pleasure and slow, long-lasting enjoyment pre- serve us from the contagion of the multitude who mistake frenzy for efficiency.”

By all means, perfect your stroke, push yourself to the pleasure of exhaustion, but also take rest days. Kick back and read about somebody else’s epic. The coast will wait for you as it always has.  

Screen_Shot_2015-07-27_at_12.46.47_PM.pngThis article first appeared in the Early Summer 2010 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.

Squaw Valley Spring Run

Photo: Darin McQuoid
Squaw Valley Creeking

Pristine trickles of water drain the southern flanks of 14,162- foot Mt. Shasta in far Northern California. A mere 45 miles south of Oregon, these braided streams meander through Squaw Valley before joining and plunging into a deep canyon as Squaw Valley Creek. An exciting expedition for intermediate kayakers, and a rewarding journey for advanced paddlers, Squaw Valley Creek can be completed as an overnight or in a single long day.

The descent starts in coniferous forest with rich, moss-covered banks, steep canyon walls and continuous rapids. Within 11 miles, the creek gains tenfold its initial volume and drops over countless class III rapids and a handful of class IV, including a few small waterfalls. After 11 miles and only two portages around wood, Squaw Valley Creek combines with the renowned, aqua-blue McCloud River for 10 more miles of class III–IV (one IV+) river running through beautiful, private fishing reserves.

 

Squaw Valley Beta

 Reach the take-out off Cali’s I-5 on Gilmand Road; follow to a bridge over the McCloud River. To find the put-in, exit the I-5 at Hwy 89, turn right on Squaw Valley Road in McCloud and after six miles turn right on Squaw Valley Creek Road.

Follow to Cabin Creek Trailhead and put on at the confluence. Squaw Valley’s season is March to May. Look for an optimum level of 1,500 cfs on the McCloud River above Shasta Lake. Plan six to 12 hours to cover the 21 miles. The best on-river camping option is at the confluence with Beartrap Creek at mile 4.75 on river right.

 

Planning

Expect cold weather if you are camping for free at Cabin Creek Trailhead.

Water levels for the McCloud River can be found at www.dreamflows.com/flows-canv.php#California_Sacramento_Valley.  

 

This article originally appeared in Rapid magazine, Early Summer 2010. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here. 

Run Alabama’s Little River Canyon

Photo: Adam Goshorn
Little River Canyon

On Lookout Mountain in northeast Alabama, the Little River cuts thorough a magnificent sandstone gorge that has attracted whitewater paddlers since the 1960s. Early explorers of the most difficult upper reaches dubbed it the Suicide Section, an epithet it still carries.

Today, Little River Canyon remains the heart of the Alabama paddling community. Variable water levels and access points provide paddling opportunities ranging from class III to V. Regardless of ability, paddlers are treated to stunning scenery, a maze of boulder gardens, clean turquoise water and a large watershed providing consistently runnable flows throughout winter and spring.

 

Little River Canyon Beta

Ten miles east of Fort Payne, AL, Highway 35 crosses Little River Falls, the uppermost put-in for Little River Canyon. There are several access points located on Canyon Rim Road between the falls and the final take-out at Canyon Mouth Park. Many options exist, but most commonly the 11-mile long canyon is divided in half via a walking trail at Eberhart Point.

Paddlers running the more difficult upper half use the trail to hike out, while those running the tamer lower canyon use it to hike in. Camping is prohibited between Little River Falls and Canyon Mouth Park, but is available at nearby Desoto State Park.

 

Planning

This run has been featured in a number of guidebooks, most recently The River Gypsies’ Guide to North America. The character and difficulty varies greatly with levels, which are runnable from 300–4,000 cfs on the USGS Little River Near Blue Pond AL gauge.

Links to gauges and an online forum to connect with local paddlers can be found at www.alabamawhitewater.com.

Detailed directions and rapid descriptions are available at www.americanwhitewater.org.

 

This article originally appeared in Rapid magazine, Early Summer 2010. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here. 

Fantasy Falls Multi-Day Trip

Dream Come True: Ben Davis drops into fantasy falls, California. | Photo: Maxi Kniewasser
Dream Come True: Ben Davis drops into fantasy falls, California. | Photo: Maxi Kniewasser

Classic Cred

The North Fork of the Mokelumne River’s Fantasy Falls is one of California’s treasured High Sierra multi-day runs. From its source in the Sierras’ Mokelumne Wilderness, the river flows between plunging slabs of pink granite and through towering old growth forests. Twenty-six miles of steep whitewater offer three days of class V+ creeking. Some of it is very clean, with tight boofs and complex drops. Some of it is not, and requires heinously long portages around entire gorges. Paddlers who are up to the remote whitewater are rewarded with surreal scenery and some of the finest riverside camping imaginable.

The bare granite slabs hold the day’s warmth long after sunset, firewood is never in short supply and trekking to bald domes reveals sublime views of river and rock that stretch for miles.

Beta

The take-out on Salt Spring Reservoir is two and a half hours east of Sacramento. The putin is 85 miles further into the mountains on Route 4.

Season depends on the snow pack, but early- to mid-June is a good bet for fine weather and levels. Keep in mind that the put-in is at an elevation of nearly 7,000 feet and you’ll spend the next three days above 4,000 feet snowstorms are not out of the question even in June. If time constraints, season or skills are limitations, daytrips on several class II-IV stretches below Salt Spring Reservoir have dependable flows throughout spring and summer due to dam control.

Dream Come True: Ben Davis drops into fantasy falls, California. | Photo: Maxi Kniewasser
Dream Come True: Ben Davis drops into fantasy falls, California. | Photo: Maxi Kniewasser

Planning

The Bible of California creeking is Holbeck & Stanley’s The Best Whitewater in California (Watershed Books, 1988). Inspect levels on the Fantasy Falls section visually—the first few miles should be bumpy but manageable, around 150- 250 cfs.


This article originally appeared in Rapid magazine, Early Summer 2010. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Open Boat Creek Technique

Photo: Megan Richardson
A whitewater open boat canoeist drops into a big rapid.

 Open boat canoeing changes from big river boating to creeking styles only in matters of timing. These expert tips are skills that will help you stay sharp no matter where you paddle.

Practice hole escapes

 

On larger rivers where you are dealing with lines that are five to ten feet wide (go five feet to the left of that hole) it’s fairly easy to avoid getting stuck in a hole. On creeks, the lines can be inches instead of feet (clip the side of that hole on the left). Consequently, getting stuck in holes is part of creek boating and it’s pretty hard to surf your way out of a big hole if you spend the rest of your time avoiding them.

 

Bombproof your roll

 

Playing in spots with good recovery areas offers a great way to transition your pool roll to a river roll. You flip so frequently when playboating that you get used to the feeling of being upside down in your canoe, dealing with currents to reach the set-up position and hit your roll.

 

Run slalom gates

 

One of the greatest challenges on difficult creeks is catching must-make eddies. Often micro eddies that fit kayaks can be difficult to squeeze into with a longer canoe. Entering local slalom races is an effective way to practice making difficult ferries and catching tricky eddies on the fly.

Most courses are on class II–III water so the consequence of missing an eddy is hitting a pole rather than slipping backwards into a rapid that you were hoping to scout.

 

Take on water

 

Prepare for continuous creeks by paddling boogie sections of familiar runs without stopping to empty out. It takes practice, but you can control most shorter whitewater canoes even when they are almost completely full of water. Just keep the boat pointed downstream, start any turns far in advance and maintain momentum since acceleration will be difficult.

 

Ride the eddy lines

 

On continuous creeks, the driest canoe lines often hug the eddylines to skirt most holes and pourovers. The challenge with this technique is to avoid eddying out unintentionally mid-rapid.

 

This article originally appeared in Rapid, Early Summer 2010. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Woolpower Crewneck/Long Johns Review

woolpower.se
Woolpower long johns

RPv12i2 crewneckEver dreamt of a base layer for under your drysuit that is at once both cozy and quick-drying, light yet moisture-wicking, and cool when you’re hot, warm when you’re not? And, perhaps most importantly, doesn’t reek after just a few hours on the river.

Well, it exists.

Woolpower is a stuff-dreams-are-made-of blend of fine merino wool and polyester/nylon.

Developed in Sweden in 1972 in collaboration with the Swedish military and survival experts, Woolpower is one of those great Scandinavian ideas—like Ikea, saunas and Nordic skiing—that arrives belatedly in North America.

Woolpower improves on the natural insulating and antibacterial properties of wool by adding the durability of synthetics and using a loose terry knit that eliminates the clammy feeling of damp polypro.

Rapid has been testing Woolpower since last fall and our editors agree that this is the most comfortable we’ve ever been inside a drysuit.

Available from The Canadian Outdoor Equipment Co.

www.woolpower.se | $69-84

This article originally appeared in Rapid magazine, Early Summer 2010. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Company Profile: Kokatat

Photo courtesy of Kokatat
Blue Puma circa 1984

This profile originally appeared in Rapid magazine.

Every cloud has a silver lining. Even if that cloud is a powerful, global sports brand suing your struggling start-up for trademark infringement. In the case of Steve O’Meara, the shimmer within the storm was Kokatat.

When the natural resources student from San Francisco’s Bay area arrived in the small coastal community of Arcata, California, to attend Humboldt State University in the late 1960s, he knew he’d found a special place. The keen outdoorsman could spend his free time kayaking northern California’s wild coast and rivers, trekking among the redwoods or climbing in the nearby Klamath Mountains and Coast Ranges.

When he graduated in 1971, O’Meara found the only thing lacking in Arcata was prospective employment. Determined to stay, the enterprising 23-year-old scraped together the capital to start a small outdoor equipment retail store catering to backpackers and cyclists. It wasn’t long before he discovered that the products he wanted to sell simply weren’t available. Recognizing a need, O’Meara plunged ahead with blind optimism.

“I didn’t have much business background and I definitely didn’t have any production background,” he recalls, “how to make the stuff was learned on the fly.”

With his then-business partner Chuck Kennedy, O’Meara purchased a couple sewing machines, started scrounging raw materials from local suppliers and branded his new company Blue Puma. Operating out of the back of their retail store, O’Meara and Kennedy manufactured high-end, made-to-order down sleeping bags, parkas and bivy sacs.

In 1976, the men were among the very first in the outdoor industry to recognize the potential applications of a new waterproof/breathable fabric called Gore-Tex. A bivy sac crafted from the material brought Blue Puma national recognition.

In 1980, O’Meara’s friends Don Banducci and Rob Lesser asked him to create paddling clothing for their upcoming expedition on the Alsek River in the Yukon/Alaska.

“We developed a very basic paddling jacket with a neoprene cuff and some fleece under garments—it’s sort of laughable now,” remembers O’Meara. Nevertheless, says Lesser, the Alsek paddling jackets were superior to the wool and flimsy nylon paddling clothes of the period.

Blue Puma was gathering momentum. Then, in 1986, O’Meara received a letter from Puma shoe company alleging trademark violations. Without the money to fight the charges, he was forced to change the name.

Re-branding the company offered O’Meara the opportunity to narrow his focus. “I decided I’d rather be a bigger fish in the small pool of watersports,” he summarizes.

A friend suggested the name Kokatat. Meaning “into the water” in the language of the indigenous Klamath River people, the new name fit perfectly with O’Meara’s commitment to paddlesports and keeping production in Arcata.

Even with a clear purpose and a fresh name, Kokatat almost ceased to exist. Struggling to secure financing, turn a profit and weather stiff competition from new rivals like Stohlquist, O’Meara put his company up for sale. “The offer I got was kind of insulting, so I decided I had to turn the company around,” he says.

Kokatat’s success hinged on recognizing paddlers’ needs and figuring out innovative ways of satisfying them. In 1986, Kokatat created the industry’s first paddling drysuit. Gore-Tex and advanced laminates and treatments followed.

O’Meara also recognized the importance of credibility and product feedback generated through sponsoring professional paddlers. Since the Alsek expedition, Kokatat has signed no fewer than four World Champions and outfitted the U.S. Olympic team.

O’Meara credits Kokatat’s popularity with professional athletes to a tradition of function-first designs. For their part, Team Kokatat’s international ambassadors have helped transform utilitarian function—and mango onesies—into paddling haute fashion.

For both longevity and ethics, O’Meara is admired throughout paddlesports. “Steve is an ex- ample of the entrepreneurial rocks upon which the whitewater industry worldwide was built,” says Lesser. “He never [sold] out to the consolidators of this industry. I couldn’t speak more highly of his manufacturing philosophies.”

After four decades, O’Meara is still enjoying the daily challenges and rewards.

“Kokatat changes about every five years so it’s endlessly interesting for me,” he says. “People ask how I can do the same thing for 40 years and I tell them, ‘I don’t.’” 

 This article originally appeared in Rapid, Early Summer 2010. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.

Running Waterfalls

Photo: Patrick Camblin
Kayaking waterfalls

Every waterfall is unique. Running falls with consistent success means tweaking your technique to suit the drop. The strategies outlined here have seen me safely through over 15 drops in excess of 70 feet.

The art of running waterfalls lies in an intimate communication between you and your kayak— having a poised sense of boat angle in freefall. Maintaining boat angle at the point where the waterfall’s lip becomes vertical and you enter freefall is crucial to a successful outcome.

I like to enter freefall with a neutral, nearly straight body position. Depending on how I left the lip, I will adapt my body position and the speed or delay of my tuck to maintain the right amount of boat angle. The sensation is of a balancing act. The goal is to make sure you’re tucked safely to your front deck when you land in the pool below, protecting your body against the force of impact.

The most straightforward drops are those with lips that gradually transition to vertical. Oregon’s 70-foot Metlako Falls is a perfect example of an easy, rolling lip. On falls like Metlako it is actually important to not do too much—the waterfall sets your angle perfectly. Ride down the lip with a neutral body position—using a stern rudder to control side-to-side angle as necessary—and slowly begin to tuck as the waterfall becomes vertical to maintain a good entry angle.

It is usually a very bad idea to run a waterfall when your boat might connect with a rock at the lip. My definition of a shallow lip waterfall is when the river goes over a shelf just deep enough for a kayak. Sahale Falls, another 70-footer in Oregon, extends over a 30-degree shelf for 15 feet then immediately drops to vertical. This waterfall is more difficult because you can’t simply tuck at the lip. To avoid boofing as you fly off the shelf, you must delay or slow your tuck and let the bow drop so you are reaching full tuck as the boat becomes vertical. A strong sense of your boat angle and knowing how your body’s position affects this angle is the crux to running waterfalls of this nature.

Waterfalls with tight lines demand more precise placement and concentration to put you on the correct spot at the lip. My descent of Washington’s 186-foot Palouse Falls had a tricky thread-the-needle line between a pitching hump on the left and a kicker into space on the right. The lip at Palouse was one of the most difficult I have ever run—I lined up with a rudder and held a stationary stern draw to stick the right to left orientation of the lip. Lining up the lip is the most intimidating part of running waterfalls—it is very important to have good points of reference at the lip so you know exactly where you are dropping over. I usually spend more time scouting the lead-in to the lip than the actual drop.

Whether the drop is categorized as deep or shallow lip, rolling or abrupt, your reaction as you begin freefall is critical. Visualization plays a very important role at this stage. Visualize sticking the line, then focus on this image until it is embedded in your mind. When you are running the waterfall there is no space for conscious thought about right or wrong reactions—they must simply happen in immediate response to the present situation.

Visualization is also invaluable when deciding which waterfalls to run. If I cannot visualize myself running a waterfall successfully, I won’t attempt it. My best advice is to start small and work up to larger drops—nothing can replace personal experience.

Tyler Bradt hails from Missoula, Montana, and began kayaking at age six. He enjoys long walks on the beach, wine by candlelight and watching sunsets. [He also holds two waterfall world records]. Learn more about his new film at www.dreamresultmovie.com.

This article originally appeared in Rapid, Early Summer 2010. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.