National Do-Something Day

Stories

Photo: Bev McMullen — National Do-Something Day

A year before our first child was born we broke ground building our dream home. I was hell bent and determined to have the house finished before we moved in. I swore I wouldn’t be that guy with Tyvek siding and plywood floors. I’d have doors on my cupboards. There’d be trim on my windows. Every nail driven was one nail closer to sitting in our screened-in porch enjoying late sunset dinners.

Today, four years after moving in, we have open studded ceilings, closet doors without knobs and there is a gap between the ceramic tile in the kitchen and the red pine flooring in the dining room. Yes, Cheerios, marbles and dead flies collect there.

It would take me only a few hours to finish this job. A trip to Home Depot to buy the trim and a couple hours measuring, cutting, gluing and nailing everything into place. But it’s not going to happen. Today is June 26 and it’s National Canoe Day. We’re going to join paddlers from coast to coast to coast in canoe-related activities in waters of our own choosing. We’re spending our National Canoe Day paddling to a place my son calls Bunny Island.

Last week, June 13 to 21 was Bike Week in the United Kingdom. My daughter Kate just turned three years old and with her chocolate cupcakes came her first two-wheeler. As a former colony with the Queen still on our money, it seems the only right thing to do is ride our bicycles.

National Fishing Week kicks off July 4. As the publisher of Kayak Angler, one of Canoeroots’ sister publications, it would be irresponsible for a guy like me to not take my kids fishing, besides “recreational fishing is a heritage activity that provides an opportunity for people of all ages and from all walks of life and cultural backgrounds to get outdoors and enjoy both the excitement and serenity of fishing.” Sold. Who should argue with the Canadian National Sportfishing Foundation and deprive their kids of true cultural experiences and their heritage.

In the United States they have National Camping Month and to celebrate we’ve lined up two family canoe camping trips down the Petawawa and Dumoine Rivers. At this rate, I can’t see me getting at the Cheerio gutter until early fall or maybe even winter—but then there’s National Jump in the Leaves Month and the entire alpine ski season to look forward to.

The Outdoor Industry Association’s 2008 Outdoor Recreation Participation Report suggests that from 2006 to 2007, there was a 12 per cent decrease of participation in outdoor activities among American children ages 6 to 17 years of age. The same is probably true in Canada.

When it comes to home renovations Bob the Builder says, “Can we fix it? Yes we can!” But first let’s tackle the more important project of reversing a potentially deadly trend and get kids outside. “Can we fix it? Yes we can!” Sometimes all it takes to get a job done is writing it on the calendar.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Paddle to the Amazon Again

Stories

Photo: Don Starkell — Paddle to the Amazon Again

In 1980, Don Starkell and his son Dana embarked on what became the longest—and in another sense the largest—canoeing adventure ever. The two started from home in Winnipeg and finished in Belem, Brazil, a world-record-setting 19,603 kilometres later.

Don’s book about the journey, Paddle to the Amazon, became an instant classic in paddling circles thanks to its tales of pirate attacks, near starvation, accusations of espionage and threats of execution.

Despite this, Starkell has remained largely out of the pantheon of better-known adventurers like Steve Fossett, Sir Edmund Hilary and Colin Angus.

Starkell might soon be getting more widespread credit, thanks to filmmaker Chris Forde and his soon-to-be-released documentary. Forde is hoping Starkell’s book publisher will let him borrow the same title for the film.

Forde interviewed the main cast of characters including Starkell’s other son Jeff, who abandoned the trip halfway through. The film, however, is more than a regurgitation of the book.

As it turns out, when the project began the Starkells were re-tracing a section of the original trip. This excursion became the backbone of Forde’s documentary.

“It gives the viewer the feeling that they’re going to go all the way down the Mississippi with them.” Forde explains.

In addition to this more recent footage, the film captures the dangers of the original route through some of the most politically unstable countries in the world. A particularly chilling moment occurs when Starkell talks about the dangers he expected to face on the trip.

“I had a list of things I thought would be hardest to endure,” says Starkell. “First off, I said weather, insects and water supplies. But as I got further in the trip—and it didn’t take very long—man went right to the top.” Starkell claims to have been shot at 14 times and at one point he and Dana were dragged into the jungle and almost killed.

Forde wanted to reveal the real motives behind this “family trip” that took 10 years to plan and two years to execute, but he had to question Starkell repeatedly.

“He offered all sorts of reasons why he did the trip: he got divorced, he wanted to do something with his kids and he wanted to inspire his kids,” Forde explains. “I sensed he would get close to the real reason and then veer off.”

“Finally, on the last day on the Mississippi, he told me. He wanted to test his limits. He wanted to know how far he could go before he actually died. This is what the trip was ultimately about to Don.”

Similarly, when Forde is asked about why he undertook the documentary he gives a reasonable answer about increasing awareness.

“This story should be a part of our culture, everybody should know about this. We have Terry Fox. Starkell should be right up there,” argues Forde.

When asked again however, he digs deeper.

“I wanted to meet Don. I think more than anything I wanted to meet my hero.”

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Editorial: A Complete Sentence

Stories

Photo: Scott MacGregor — Editorial: A Complete Sentence

Welcome to the women’s issue. Or is it the woman’s issue? One thing it is not is the womens’ issue. That’s because even though there is an exception to punctuation rules which says the apostrophe is supposed to come after the final s of a pluralized possessive noun, “women” is an exception to that exception, because it is a plural that doesn’t end in an s. There is no such thing as a group of womens, despite public places being filled with washrooms for them.

This is how an editor makes a living. Most people just pick up a magazine and leaf through, looking for a good place to begin reading—the tip on where to hang a food pack comes to mind. Editors have to think about not hanging modifiers. How low can a preposition dangle before a bear can reach it anyway?

Careful readers of this magazine might be skeptical about claims of grammatical vigilance. I encourage sticklers (and I use that term with respect) to write and point out all the errors of usage and style in this issue. It would be a great way to welcome the new editor and instill a sense of high standards. You see, for this issue I’ve been concerned not just with apostrophes, but also with periods, the things that come at the end of a sentence. Or fragment. Or job.

With two new small but squirming items to carry over the portage now I’ve decided to shake up my life a little. After five years of editing Canoeroots I’ll be leaving it to a new editor to steer through the February issue and beyond.

Five years doesn’t sound like much perhaps. After all, it’s only twice as long as one of the canoe trips featured in this issue. But it was long enough to change at least one paddler’s perspective on the sport. When I started at Canoeroots I considered canoeing and isolation to be a natural fit. A canoe was something to take you away from other people. Now I know canoes are even better at bringing people together. The canoeing community is strong when it is connected. As the article on the weakening of the Navigable Waters Protection Act shows, that is important if the values we share and the wild spaces we enjoy will have any supporters.

So by all means, write and tally up all the sentences in this issue that start with a But or an And. Whatever you write, it is a pleasure to know that there are people at the other end of the presses who love canoeing like we do. And now that no one remembers how small the print size was in the Spring 2006 issue, reader emails are our favourite kind. Until I become editor of Friendly and Interesting People Monthly, I won’t expect to be in regular contact with such a great group of readers and enthusiasts.

Finally, I should thank publisher Scott MacGregor and, of course, Bill Gates. To MacGregor for starting Canoeroots and making my job possible; and to Gates, for refusing to add a Canadian dictionary to Microsoft Word’s spell check and making my job necessary.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Canoeroots Magazine.

Standing Waves: Lining and Tides and Bears

Trips

Photo: Daniel Petit — Standing Waves: Lining and Tides and Bears

Pinned between the 55th parallel and Hudson and Ungava Bays, the territory of Nunavik in far northern Quebec is home to some of the province’s last undiscovered whitewater. Scoured by icy winds and pounded by rain and snow, the Vachon River cascades over 200 kilometres through this unforgiving landscape of rock and lichen before being swallowed by the Payne River Fiord and the world’s largest tides at Ungava Bay.

Because of its remoteness—Nunavik is larger than California, has no roads and is home to a population of only 12,000 scattered in tiny inuit villages around the coast—the Vachon River has never been run before. (Curiously, the river was partially explored in 1985 by a group of four canoeists from Lyon, France, who travelled up it as part of a cross-Ungava expedition). This summer, Quebecer Eric Leclair hopes to make a first descent while laying the groundwork for others to do the same.

“The Vachon is the craziest project i could think of,” says Leclair.

With over 10,000 kilometres of canoe tripping experience under his hull, Leclair is a veteran of wild and remote rivers. An expedition leader and geographer since 1994, Leclair has worked with SÉPAQ, Quebec’s parks organization, to produce detailed maps and guidebooks for popular whitewater tripping rivers like the Ashuapmushuan.

The goal of the Vachon River expedition is to research the route and rapids for a Parks Quebec recreational guide map, while also enabling nearby communities to evaluate the river’s tourism potential. With currently only three commercially run rivers in the region, the local Inuit are eager to welcome more visitors to Nunavik. To this end, Leclair’s expedition team includes Peter Kiatainaq, a river guide and park ranger from Pingualuit National Park, which protects the river’s headwaters, and Tommy Weetaluktuk, an archaeologist from Nunavik’s Avataq Cultural institute.

“The local inuit understanding of the territory, climate and available resources is invaluable to an expedition in this wild region,” says Leclair.

The team knows that the river’s remoteness is not the only challenge their 18-day expedition faces as it travels 300 kilometres from a series of small lakes at the headwaters, down the river’s narrow canyons and out the Payne River Fiord to the village of Kangirsuk. Ice jams pose a potentially deadly hazard, and the region’s heavy precipitation makes for unpredictable and swiftly changing water levels. With the ground locked in icy permafrost—unable to support vegetation or hold water—rains feed directly into the river.

The most treacherous section, says Leclair, is the last few days on the Payne River Fiord. “We have to deal with 35- to 40-foot tides, difficult currents, strong winds and even polar bears near the coast,” he says, adding that these hurdles just “add spice to the trip.”

This article on the Vachon River was published in the Fall 2009 issue of Rapid magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2009 issue of Rapid Magazine.

Open Canoe Technique: Lateral Thinking

Skills

When you first start paddling it’s great fun and recklessly easy to blast straight downstream. That’s okay until you need to avoid obstacles or go somewhere other than directly to the bottom of the rapids. Three or four hundred pounds of paddlers and canoe barrelling downstream has a lot of momentum, making your straight-shot more Jon Voight in Runaway Train than Bill Mason in Waterwalker.

One of the Golden Rules of paddling is to point your boat where you want to go.

It seems obvious and you have no doubt heard it before, but learning to travel laterally across rapids is a mind-bender for the newly initiated and a concept that should be frequently revisited and practiced by paddlers of all levels. Pointing your boat where you want to go and travelling laterally allows you to move around the river for cleaner, drier lines and is the only way to access mid-rapid eddies.

Your first goal should be setting your angle across the current in one stroke.

However, radically changing your boat’s angle—for example, from pointing downstream to pointing across the current—does not alone change your direction of travel. Imagine standing on a moving sidewalk, looking straight ahead. You can turn your body to face left or right but you are still moving forward. To move laterally you need to step in that direction. Pointing your boat in one stroke allows you to immediately start building momentum in the new direction. This does not mean that you need to start paddling at warp speed, but you should at least be ready to start moving your boat in the new direction—across the river.

Timing is a key issue when developing lateral momentum.

Once your canoe is pointed at a destination like an eddy, green tongue or slalom gate, you need to ensure that your speed matches the angle and distance to your target.

Let’s look at a midstream eddy behind an exposed rock as an example. The water accelerates around the rock that forms the eddy, so you may need to increase your momentum as you approach. Conversely, if you build momentum too far upstream, have too open of an angle or you’re simply moving too fast across the current, you may come in too high. This could result in pinning against the rocks or ricocheting off and sliding down the eddy with zero directionalmomentum. In these cases, ease your lateral momentum by relaxing your stroke rate or pause and wait for the eddy to come to you. Keeping your eyes on the eddy and being aware of distance versus cross-current and downstream vectors will help you judge when to back off and when to pour on the power.

Advanced solo and tandem boaters may also use a trough or foam pile of a standing or crashing wave to funnel their boats into an adjacent eddy. To try this, develop some cross-current momentum and fall sideways into the wave. Make sure you drop into the trough flat rather than with the customary downstream tilt to prevent the wave from dumping in your boat. Ride the wave’s trough or tube like an on ramp into the eddy, or use the power of the wave to kill your downstream momentum, allowing you to move across into the eddy.

This article on turning your canoe was published in the Fall 2009 issue of Rapid magazine.

This article first appeared in the Fall 2009 issue of Rapid Magazine.

River Alchemy: Reading Between the Lines

Stories

Photo: Philth Quinn — River Alchemy: Reading Between the Lines

Whitewater rivers are one part water and one part rock, tilted downhill. No one understood this better, and explained it more clearly, than William Nealy. His book, Kayak, The Animated Manual of Intermediate and Advanced Whitewater Technique (1986, Menasha Ridge Press) is a classic. If you are unfamiliar with Nealy’s book, note the words classic and animated: classic as in still relevant and highly recommended, and animated – hand drawn and hand printed, unlike anything you would find today.

While kayaking has changed immensely since these early days, rivers have not.

It is Nealy’s understanding of “hydrotopography,” as he aptly calls it, which illustrates his brilliance and the staying power of his work. With his keen perceptions and black pen, he removes the water from the river and illustrates rapids as conveyer belts, geometric shapes and arrows. He explains better than anyone:

How well a boater can read the topography of this complex terrain and extrapolate what’s going on underneath the surface can make the difference between a good run and a bad run… Being able to look at a rapid and know what’s happening both on and below the surface…is the mark of the advanced kayaker.

Kayak is one of the earliest kayak manuals, and certainly the most read and longest lived. Nealy’s revealing illustrations informed generations of paddlers’ understanding of whitewater. This three dimensional understanding and appreciation of rivers is being lost.

New paddlers now access whitewater via DVD instruction and YouTube. Lost is the self-paced, engaging, imaginative, cerebral and committing study of written manuals such as Nealy’s.

Over the last five years or more, paddling has centred on a few familiar and well-travelled destination rivers. Boat designs have been feeding this narrowly focused park and play trend. Even institutional kayaking’s push to get newbies surfing amounts to minimizing a river to only its play spots.

In this new paddling world, scouting is optional and therefore becoming a lost skill.

The ability to analyze the current and understand the rocks and riverbed below is being overlooked for superficial, immediately self-gratifying, two-dimensional thrills.

The last couple seasons have, for the good I believe, seen a resurgence and renewed interest in river running. With river running comes exposure to different rivers and different rapids; with that comes the need to scout and develop a sense for what the current is doing. This, as Nealy believed, is best done with an understanding of what is going on beneath the surface. This three dimensional view is integral to the whole river experience.

Guiding on Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon, I remember one rock in particular. It was pyramid shaped and reaching to within arm’s length beneath the surface of the fast moving, crystal clear water. Tumbling in the submerged eddy current was the material of a living river: bits of bark, dirt and bugs. In that instant, for me, the river became a three-dimensional being much greater than just the surface features with which I formerly had been preoccupied.

Nealy wrote that to understand and appreciate what goes on “both on and below the surface” is the sign of a good kayaker. I believe that when someone understands (or at least tries to understand) the whole river, that person becomes not just a good kayaker but a true river person.

Jeff Jackson is a professor of Outdoor Adventure at Algonquin College in Pembroke, Ontario. William Nealy died July 19, 2001. Kayak has sold over 250,000 copies and been translated into five languages.

This article on William Nealy was published in the Fall 2009 issue of Rapid magazine. This article first appeared in the Fall 2009 issue of Rapid Magazine.

Rock the Boat: Wish You Were Here

Stories

Illustration: Lorenzo Del Bianco — Rock the Boat: Wish You Were Here

My wife enjoys kayaking, but not as much as I do. She approaches the activity with moderation, whereas I’m consumed by it. She’s a fair weather paddler, disdaining bigger mileage days and lumpy conditions. And so, inevitably, I tend to do my longer, more ambitious trips without her.

This always results in the same dynamic. When I return from a trip, be it a weekend or a month, and tell her that I’ve missed her greatly, she never believes me. Despite my protestations, she remains certain that I had such a great time without her that I never thought of her once. Not once did I even pause to consider how incredibly lucky I was that she deigned to be with me at all. Never mind that I called or emailed at every opportunity. No amount of cajoling or assurance can shake her conviction that she ceased to exist for me the second I walked out the door. That is, of course, until I finally returned home to find some vaguely familiar woman in my house, who I then remembered was my wife.

In her version of events, I arrive home without a proper greeting, drape stinking paddling gear throughout the house, ask immediately what’s for dinner and expect sex on demand.

She knows only too well that I am a cad. I have committed the gravest sin of all. I have had fun without her. Worse still, I have done it for a sustained period of time. (The fact that she didn’t really want to come on the trip, and wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, is immaterial.) I am a selfish, thoughtless bastard. But she is far too classy to come right out and say so. Instead she will give me subtle hints to remind me of my transgression in the coming days, weeks, months and years.

But now I have hit upon a simple and highly effective strategy for promoting domestic bliss after returning from a paddling trip without my sweetie. A few simple steps can neutralize her you-never-even-thought-of-me-did-you-you-callous-slob-my-mother-was-right-I-never-should-have-married-you sentiments.

While the following strategies do require a small amount of effort and forethought, the payoff is so significant that they must be incorporated into any trip you do without your significant other. If applied correctly, these tips will not only mollify your partner; they will actually win you brownie points.

Here’s the secret: Document yourself missing your partner.

The best way to accomplish this is via photos. It’s easy. Build a little sign out of beach debris that says “X loves y” (inserting your names where applicable) and take a photo of it. Write your names in the sand (adding a heart with an arrow is always good) and snap a couple of photos of that. Take pictures of yourself miming a message of love to your spouse. Get your paddling buddies to each hold up a por- tion of a sign with a message just for him or her. find a heart-shaped stone, photograph it, and bring it back as a keepsake.

That’s all there is to it. Indisputable documentary evidence is the cornerstone to your assertion that you missed your sweetheart in the moment. you will be amazed how this photographic proof of your devotion and longing can offset even a lengthy absence. And the invest- ment of your time is negligible: 15 or 20 minutes every few days is all that it requires. Just don’t take all the photos in a row. Spouses are way too smart for that. Digital cameras record date and time. Spread the evidence out over days to prove that you were thinking of them early and often.

Just in case you’re thinking that this is just a cheap device to get off the hook for a long absence, think again. The coolest part of this strategy is that it works both ways. Once you get on board, you’ll find yourself trying to come up with more and better ideas of how to miss your partner and how to create memorable images that you can bring back and share. Pretty soon you’ll be thinking of them more often than ever. And you really will miss them if you didn’t already.

I may be cheeky now and again, but I’m no cad. And I’m definitely not insincere. I love my wife and I miss her when I’m away. So I make the effort to let her know just how much. And that’s always the right thing to do. even if she doesn’t believe me.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.

Safety Tips: When Kayak Hatches Flood

Stories

Photo: Doug Alderson — Safety Tips: When Hatches Flood

What would happen to a fully loaded kayak if the waterproof hatches catastrophically failed? We conducted this test to find out.

First, we loaded a kayak for a two-week trip (55 kilograms of gear and a 68-kilogram paddler). We used eight dry bags very carefully closed with most of the air squeezed out— some air retained for buoyancy—and the roll-top closures rolled at least two full rotations.

Then we flooded the day hatch, and progressively flooded all the other hatches and eventually the cockpit. With the day hatch flooded, the kayak was still stable and maneuverable.

With the rear hatch and day hatch flooded, stability became difficult and maneuvering became slow and awkward. With the cockpit flooded, the kayak became unmanageable, with the rear edge of the cockpit coaming below the surface.

With the front compartment flooded, the kayak was completely swamped.

The best results for recovery after a capsize occurred when the paddler entered the water and tilted the kayak onto its side. The front compartment retained only six liters. The day compartment 10 liters, and the rear compartment 15 liters. We could then put on the hatch covers, re-enter the kayak and pump most of the water out of the cockpit. This made the kayak unstable but marginally maneuverable. However, this rescue would be very hard to perform in rough seas. Also, pumping out the cockpit was very difficult, even with a foot pump.

Finally, the gear in all eight dry bags was soaking wet, including important items like warm clothes and sleeping bags. This is disappointing and hazardous in itself and also means that the floatation would have decreased with the continued intrusion of water into the dry bags.

Conclusion: Well-packed dry bags offer sufficient buoyancy to cope with one flooded compartment; however, the addition of a flooded cockpit or a second flooded compartment greatly decreases the chance of a successful recovery. The kayak becomes critically unseaworthy and recovering ample buoyancy in rough seas is unlikely. Quickly emptying a fully flooded cockpit in rough seas would require an electric pump.

Always check the water tightness of your hatches and make your gear bags as waterproof as possible to improve your chances in the case of a flooded hatch.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.

The Zen of Paddling

Stories

Photo: flickr.com/mr_t_in_dc — The Zen of Paddling

As a kayaker, there comes a time when you experience a magical moment. Paddler, boat and water combine into a oneness of existence. No longer are you a separate entity from your vessel. No longer is the kayak at odds with the flow of the water. Congruence occurs and your experience becomes Zen-like, where your only realm of being is in the moment. you are so connected with the water that paddling transcends into an unconscious effort, where the rhythm of your motion is as involuntary as the beating of your heart.

This Zen of paddling cannot be consciously willed. It merely happens. It is, of course necessarily predicated on the hours of kayaking needed to perfect your strokes and to coordinate your body movements into well-defined synchronization. Paddling a kayak is forged to perfection with dedicated practice.

You know you are approaching the Zen stage when the fundamental parts of your stroke slide together. The catch, power phase and release reach the point where they are separately ingrained into your musculature and complement one another. When your focus moves from the left blade catch to the right blade catch, and all the movements between the two just happen, the magic moment is near.

Zen will be upon you without searching for it. you arrive before you know it! It simply dawns on you that your paddle is an extension of your arms. The paddling motion is happening without your willing it. your mind is no longer the necessary master of your actions. Rather, your actions free your mind to reach another level of being.

No longer needed to will a motion, the mind finds purpose in crystallizing the experience of the moment: the essence of a breath; the sound of the paddle blade kissing the water; the slicing of the bow through the ripples; the cadence of catch after catch; the joy of being at one with the water. Here, life can simply flow. Unencumbered. Purposeful. Restful. Smooth.

Is this the moment you strive for? Is this the culmination of your seemingly endless quest for the perfect stroke? Has practice not so much made perfect as it has made performance? You are able to perform, essentially to move your kayak, to the point where concentrated effort is not the determinant of achievement. yes, you have arrived! The Zen of paddling is within your grasp as surely as the paddle shaft is manipulated in your hands. you are at one with your vessel as your vessel is at one with the water. your existence has been reduced to the essentials of being. You do. You are. No longer are you just a part of the kayak, the kayak is a part of you.

Capture this moment where the doing just happens and the realm of being is paramount. Left catch. Right catch. enjoy!

Michael Walmsley is an elementary school principal in Orangeville, Ontario, whose passion for paddling is equalled by his love of writing. He has been kayaking for 20 years.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.

Editorial: The Tao of Dave

Stories

Photo: Tim Shuff — Editorial: The Tao of Dave

I first met my friend Dave when he was one of the interview subjects for my master’s thesis. The thesis was about the religious aspects of the wilderness experience. I was looking for people who were passionate about outdoor sport the way other people are passionate about church; in a way that infuses and influences their whole lives.

I couldn’t have found a better subject.

Dave is a few years older than me, but we have parallel backgrounds. We both grew up in suburban Toronto and escaped the city as early and often as we could. We both studied geography in university, got summer jobs tree planting in northern Ontario, and went to grad school in Victoria.

But something happened to Dave along the way that sharpened his experience—and probably made him especially qualified to speak to my thesis question. A car accident broke Dave’s back.

Several years ago, Dave and I paddled from Prince Rupert to Victoria: 1,400 kilometres in 80 days. If you do the math, that’s an average of just a few hours of paddling per day. We paddled high-volume boats and carried loads of food. We rested one day out of three and most days we were off the water by lunchtime. Time off was for reading and eating, photography and sunbathing, sleeping and exploring. We could have finished sooner but we went slowly because we didn’t want it to end. Every day was quality.

I couldn’t have planned a trip like that without Dave. I would have been caught up in covering a lot of distance and lost sight of the goal, which was just to have fun, explore and live outside.

Dave has a clearer sense of his values than most people I know. He knows how to use time well—on kayak trips and in everyday life.

When I first met Dave he was talking about leaving his secure, senior government job to spend more time kayaking and work as a photographer. Then he did it: quit his job, went to photography school, sold his house, downsized his life and started freelancing.

Nowadays I don’t get out kayaking as often as I’d like. But Dave kayaks more than ever. Often he goes paddling with Adventure Kayak writer Alex Matthews. It seems like every time I phone him, those two are either returning or heading out paddling to the Broken Islands or Clayoquot Sound. Last summer they paddled most of the west coast of Vancouver Island, retracing a big part of our 80-day trip.

When Alex pitched me a profile of Dave, I couldn’t wait to assign the story. Dave is inspiring because he’s built a life around what’s important. He says that kayaking saved his life after his accident, because it got him back out to the wild where he felt most happy and alive and connected. As Alex explains in the article, going kayaking is harder for Dave than it is for most of us (although it’s easy to forget when you’re hanging out with him). But he doesn’t let that stop him. He came close enough to losing his connection to the outdoors once. He’s not going to let it slip away again.

This article first appeared in the Summer/Fall 2009 issue of Adventure Kayak Magazine. For more great content, subscribe to Adventure Kayak’s print and digital editions here.

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