University of Tennessee Chattanooga students prepare their project, a 1000-pound concrete canoe, for the water. Feature image courtesy Dixie Edmondson.
Engineering students at University of Tennessee Chattanooga face an unusual challenge as part of their curriculum: make a maneuverable and stable canoe out of concrete. Then, the students pass that concrete canoe to the rowing team and hop into a traditional rowing shell and race the rowers.
On November 16, 2025, the University of Tennessee Chattanooga (UTC) Rowing Team took to the student-built concrete canoe to race it against engineering students, who used a traditional rowing shell, through 500 meters of chop on the Tennessee River in the inaugural “Athletes vs. Engineers” race. The engineering students in the rowing shell won by a significant margin, but the concrete canoe was a success in durability and buoyancy.
University of Tennessee Chattanooga students tackle the unusual task of designing, constructing and racing concrete canoes
In a world where manufacturers are consistently pushing for the next lightweight canoe, the students at UTC are building canoes out of concrete, and for them a 1000-pound canoe is considered a winner.
Abraham Mako from the University of Chattanooga Rowing Team explained that while the concrete canoe was extremely heavy, the weight wasn’t the most challenging part of maneuvering the craft.
“The canoe sat very high in the water, leading to an unusual stroke to keep the blade in the water,” explained Mako.
Students prepare a concrete canoe for voyage on the Tenneessee River. The canoe weighed around 1000 pounds. Image courtesy Dixie Edmondson
Mako added that the length of the canoe combined with the lack of a skeg and hull shape made the canoe a challenge to paddle in a straight line.
The Athletes vs. Engineers Race on the Tennessee River isn’t the only event these concrete canoes are up to compete in; the American Society of Civil Engineers (ASCE) holds an annual concrete canoe competition that draws students from throughout the United States to race and compete. The first ASCE concrete canoe competition was held in 1988, but intramural concrete canoe races began as early as the 1960s.
“The canoe doesn’t just have to float,” explained Christopher Moreland from UTC’s College of Engineering & Computer Science. “It has to be able to capsize and not fully submerge, not sink to the bottom. They have to go through a maneuverability course.”
Moreland added that this year’s concrete canoe weighed around 1000 pounds.
“If you didn’t know that it was concrete from a distance, you would just be like, that’s a really bulky canoe,” shared Moreland.
From a Chattanooga classroom to the Tennessee River
The lead up to the race begins in a UTC engineering classroom, where students are tasked with designing a canoe, presenting and defending their design and then as a class choosing which of the proposed designs to actually create.
The roles in constructing the canoe are then divided amongst the class and construction begins.
“It’s really about creating an opportunity for them to use the skillset that they’ve developed as part of the civil engineering program, and then apply that in an actual environment where you have to make something real as a team,” said Moreland.
University of Tennessee Chattanooga students prepare their project, a 1000-pound concrete canoe, for the water. Feature image courtesy Dixie Edmondson.
Moreland also shared that the Fall 2025 canoe has been a standout canoe – a number of canoes from previous years have broken apart the first time they were placed in the water.
“Now it’s been in the water four times, and it hasn’t broken,” shared Moreland. “So it’s really impressive. We took it out on the Tennessee River on a little bit of a choppy day and it managed to go, I think a thousand meters undeterred.”
How do you make a canoe made of concrete float?
Whether or not a boat floats comes down to the principles of buoyancy and displacement: a boat, even a boat made of concrete, will float when it displaces enough water that the buoyant force (force of a fluid opposing the weight of an object in the fluid) equals its weight.
Christopher Frishcosy, civil engineering lab director for the UTC College of Engineering and Computer Science and the advisor for the concrete canoe project, shared that the key to making a concrete canoe float is ensuring that the water weighs more than the concrete canoe. A key aspect of creating that lighterweight concrete is replacing the coarse, heavier aggregates like limestone or quartz with lighter volcanic rock.
“We don’t need the strength that you need in a traditional concrete. So we can… be creative on this cementitious portion and cementitious materials portion to make a lighter product that provides the strength we need for that function,” shared Frishcosy.
According to Frishcosy, mix design is the first engineering challenge that the students find themselves in with this competition, but another aspect of engineering the project teaches is code compliance.
Concrete canoes perform well in stability; maneuverability remains a challenge
“ASCE, American Society Civil Engineers, releases the rules and regulations, design proposals for this competition, and they have requirements they have to meet on certain designs,” explained Frishcosy. “Even before you get to the calculations, understanding what your limitations are and what your requirements are for the design is a part of the design process.”
Frishcosy also explained that in some years the ASCE provides requirements for length, width, hull depth, and more but in 2025 there were no specifications and design details of the canoe were completely in the hands of the students.
Generally, the concrete canoes perform well in stability, but maneuverability has often proven a challenge. Frischosy noted that general maneuverability aside, paddler’s time practicing in the boat and learning its mechanics has likely also been a limiting factor in maneuverability tests.
Overall, the concrete canoe project acts both as a fun race and a hands-on learning experience for students.
“Undoubtedly they get more out of this project than, let’s say a homework assignment or just a class project per se,” shared Friscosy. “In the 2023, 2024 [ASCE] competition we were able to get second place. Last year we did not get to race; because of inclement weather in Arkansas, the races were cancelled.”
Nonetheless, the next cohort of UTC Engineering students have the 2026 ASCE concrete canoe competition to look forward to, with the finals to see the return of the three person 600-meter endurance slalom race.
It’s been another wild year for paddlesports manufacturing. After the bust-boom-bust of the pandemic and its over-stocked under-sold aftermath, the industry has embarked on a new round of reorganization and consolidation.
Industry behemoth Pelican/Confluence emerged from insolvency protection with much of the old leadership team still at the helm—minus most of its debt and former owners Antoine and Christian Élie. This follows the bank takeover of fishing powerhouse Hobie from the investment group that purchased the company just three and a half years ago. The storied pedal kayak brand had been courting suitors since early 2025, receiving plenty of interest until it was confirmed Bass Pro Shops bought the brand in September. Meanwhile Jackson Kayak is filling its Tennessee headquarters with new brands, adding thermoforming pioneer Eddyline to a lineup that also includes Werner paddles.
What’s going on? In a macro sense, the industry is on its heels. The floor dropped out of the paddlesports market in the last 18 months just as the boomtime cash ran out. Exuberance and profit-taking brought Pelican to the end of the line, while Hobie and Eddyline made what looked at the time like a safe bet in Mexico, and lost big.
When Pelican International acquired Confluence Outdoors in 2019, it looked as if the paddlesports industry had finally attained critical mass. The new conglomerate controlled a massive slice of nearly every paddling segment, from $300 rec boats to $5,000 fishing kayaks. The company embraced big-box retailers, and a strategic shift to direct-to-consumer sales positioned it well for the contactless sales boom of the COVID era. Meanwhile Pelican kept expanding, acquiring inflatable kayak maker Advanced Elements in 2021 and camping cookware brand GSI in 2022.
Flush with pandemic dollars, Pelican leadership decided a round of profit-taking was in order. According to insolvency filings in Québec’s Superior Court, Pelican used $44 million in borrowed cash for a stock buyback benefiting shareholders (currency figures are in U.S. dollars). For brothers Antoine and Christian Élie, whose father Gérard had purchased the company in 1970, the take was about $36 million. The last payout landed in February 2022, just as the bottom dropped out of the paddlesports market.
Three years later, on February 28, 2025, Pelican filed a Notice of Intention to Make Proposal (NOI) under Canada’s Bankruptcy and Insolvency Act (BIA). Pelican released a statement at the time emphasizing that the NOI did not signal bankruptcy or closure, but rather a “proactive decision to seek protection under the BIA.” The company cited challenges in the post-COVID economy for its inability to pay creditors, including new U.S. tariffs, significant shifts in market demand, supply chain disruptions and rising costs.
The statement did not mention the stock buyback. That came to light later, when the insolvency filing was released.
According to Julian Arsenault of La Presse, Pelican borrowed a substantial sum to acquire GSI Outdoors. However, that wasn’t the only thing the money was used for. Some $44 million was disbursed to shareholders as “special dividends” in three installments between February 2021 and February 2022. Antoine and Christian Élie, who controlled more than 80 percent of company stock, pocketed about $36 million between them.
Confluence Outdoor inc will now operate as Pelican Intl USA Inc. | Photo: Shutterstock
This information is contained in Pelican’s filings with the Québec Superior Court. The documents show the company enjoying two gangbuster years, registering profits of $25.6 million in 2021 and $7.3 million in 2022. Then, in 2023, Pelican’s revenues fell about 35 percent to $113 million. La Presse reports that the dividends Pelican paid to shareholders in 2021 and 2022 were substantially more than the $25 million in losses accumulated over the past two years.
Canada’s Companies’ Creditors Arrangement Act (CCAA) protected Pelican from creditors, who were left holding more than $132 million in receivables. At the time of the CCAA filing in March, Pelican owed more than $91 million to its secured lenders, a banking syndicate led by the National Bank of Canada.
That set the stage for a new ownership group full of familiar faces from Pelican International, Inc. The new entity dropped the Élie brothers, GSI cookware, and a handful of vowels, reemerging in April as Pelican Intl, Inc.
The transaction was spearheaded by former Pelican International President and CEO Danick Lavoie, who was let go from the company February 16, and fellow executives Frederic Guay and Guy Prenevost, who resigned shortly after. The trio assembled a group of 15 investors and, according to the filings, scooped up the company’s assets for $32 million. The transaction involved a court-approved Sale and Investment Solicitation Process (SISP) under the CCAA in Canada and Chapter 15 in the United States.
The acquisition includes the manufacturing and distribution operations in Québec, plus a stable of storied paddlesports brands under the Confluence umbrella, including Wilderness Systems, Dagger, Perception, Advanced Elements, Boardworks and Mad River Canoe. Confluence Outdoor Inc. will now operate as Pelican Intl USA Inc. The Confluence name will live on as Pelican Intl’s online marketplace and consumer storefront. According to a company statement, the Confluence site will serve as “the exclusive platform to streamline how we do business with our large retailers and independent dealer network for years to come.”
Also involved was Vincent Chiara, President and founder of Groupe Mach, the real estate investment firm that in 2024 acquired Pelican’s manufacturing plant in Laval, Québec, and logistics center in Varennes, Québec. Pelican had raised more than $99 million in the sale-leaseback arrangement with Groupe Mach, leaving the real estate firm strongly motivated to ensure Pelican keeps molding kayaks and paying rent.
“We didn’t buy the business to shut down factories,” says Guay, Chief Commercial Officer in the old and new Pelican. “Our goal is to keep those three factories running, and they have to run at a lot higher pace than they are running right now.”
Guay says he, Lavoie and Prenevost pitched investors on a vision of continued paddlesports consolidation and manufacturing diversification. “A lot of reshoring is happening, certainly in the U.S., and we have a best-in-class rotomolding facility with more than 500,000 square feet of distribution and manufacturing in Greenville,” Guay says. “We’re looking at bringing some diversification into the plant. That could certainly be outdoor products, or it could be other products.” Pelican 2.0, as Guay calls it, also is looking for acquisition opportunities within the paddlesports industry.
About 20 people were let go from the Canadian side of the business before the insolvency filing, and the new ownership has brought about half of them back, Guay says. “Unfortunately, there were employees who were impacted,” he says. “But let’s be frank: We have a clean sheet of paper. We have a clean P&L and no debt, and we have a group of investors who are extremely excited about the future.” While the paddlesports market is unlikely to return to pre-pandemic levels, the new Pelican leadership sees a bright future for Pelican 2.0.
“Today marks a pivotal moment for the paddlesport industry, ensuring the continued legacy and innovation of a world-leading portfolio of brands,” the reconstituted Pelican Intl said in a press announcement. “The core of the company remains strong, as over 400 passionate and dedicated employees will pave the way for the future.”
Sources outside the company say it’s not so simple. “The worst thing for the industry in general is that $150 million debt is real—it wasn’t pumped up,” says an executive at a competing brand. “That’s now written off. It’s gone. None of these vendors, these plastic producers, these accessories producers, are ever going to see that money again.”
The rumor mill churned for months with speculation about Hobie’s potential aquisition. | Photo: Aaron Black-Schmidt
Match Made For Hobie
The Hobie Cat Company entertained inquiries from 21 suitors before it was announced the company was purchased by Bass Pro Shops this fall. Hobie is one of the largest enterprises in paddling and related industries, with about $180 million in annual sales and operations spanning three continents.
The company has production facilities in California, France, Norway and Mexico, as well as a sales and warehousing hub in Australia. “It’s a complicated business,” says a company source who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they are not authorized to speak publicly.
The rumor mill churned out acquisition possibilities for months. The sale to Bass Pro Shops was made public on September 24, 2025. The mega-retailer already owns a number of boat brands including Ranger, Stratos and Triton, and has kept the specialty sales channel for those brands open.
The company will shift Hobie production from Mexico to the Missouri facility, a move Bass Pro Shops founder Johnny Morris framed as a strategic investment in American manufacturing. “We are proud to bring Hobie home to America’s Heartland,” he said in a press release announcing the deal.
Prior to Bass Pro, the Hobie Cat Company was most recently acquired in January 2021 by an investment group with ties to the industrial auction industry. Headed by Taso Sofikitis, the group brought in Mike Suzuki as CEO and Aaron Stewardson as CFO. Sofikitis became Hobie’s chairman. The new owners pledged to continue the tradition of innovation that has animated the company since founder Hobart “Hobie” Alter carved his first surfboard in the family garage more than 70 years ago, but product development lagged as leadership focused on shifting production from Oceanside, California, to a new plant in northern Mexico. That operation faced a volatile U.S. import tariff environment which has increased costs. Hobie’s substantial warranty liability was another hurdle.
The company, legendary for such innovations as the Mirage Drive pedal system and, on the sailing side of the ledger, the revolutionary Hobie Cat catamaran, had experienced problems with rotomolded kayak hulls and the latest generation Mirage Drive 360. Introduced in 2019, the swiveling drive system brought unprecedented maneuverability to the pedal-kayak market, at the cost of increased complexity. Users praised its performance but questioned reliability.
As warranty claims mounted during and after the COVID-19 pandemic, bottlenecks in the supply chain slowed the supply of critical components, and Hobie’s footing atop the pinnacle of kayak fishing began to slip.
Looking for the perfect match. | Photo: Aaron Black-Schmidt
Hobie had steadily been moving parts manufacturing from Asia to its factories in California and Mexico. A redesign of the Mirage Drive 360 has answered many of the warranty questions. Like any mechanism that spends much of its life in wet and gritty environments—think mountain bikes or ATVs—the Mirage Drive requires regular cleaning and adjustment to perform at its best.
While Hobie has taken steps in the right direction it faces a long road back in a difficult business environment. Hobie’s last three owners have been venture capital firms. Under that leadership the legendary brand strayed from its roots, on both the kayaking and sailing sides of the business. Hobie has taken steps to correct that trajectory, signing industry veterans Joel McBride as V.P. of Sales and James McBeath as Marketing Director in May 2024. Hobie was founded by a legendary waterman, and it will take a genuine connection to paddling, fishing and sailing to bring it back to the top.
Jackson Kayak Acquires Eddyline
As Pelican and Hobie work to regain their footing in the paddlesports market, Jackson Kayak has been expanding. The Sparta, Tennessee-based firm snapped up iconic paddle brand Werner in May 2024 and in February 2025 added thermoforming leader Eddyline to its portfolio.
Eddyline kayaks will be produced in Jackson’s Tennessee manufacturing plant, alongside Jackson kayaks, Werner paddles and Orion coolers. Eddyline’s molds and tooling arrived in Tennessee this spring after a dramatic exit from Mexico, and new Eddyline kayaks already are shipping from the Sparta facility.
Tom Derrer and his wife, Lisa, sold Eddyline in 2017 to an investment group headed by Scott Holley, who took over as CEO and, in 2021, opened a second factory in the central Mexican state of Queretaro. Jackson announced the Eddyline acquisition on February 12, 2025. Less than two weeks later President Trump announced 25 percent tariffs on products from Canada and Mexico.
The president would later roll back those tariffs, but in the days and weeks after the announcement, trucks loaded with industrial equipment queued at the border as U.S. companies raced to repatriate. Among them were rigs loaded with Eddyline products and machinery, bound for Tennessee. “There were multiday long waits for trucks to get across the border,” says Jackson Sales Director Colin Kemp. Though the tariffs added impetus and a bit of drama to Eddyline’s exit, they didn’t prompt Jackson’s purchase of the thermoforming company. That, Kemp says, came down to synergy.
Set for expansion. | Photo: Aaron Black-Schmidt
Leaders at Jackson see Eddyline as a good fit with their existing portfolio of rotomolded whitewater and fishing kayaks and premium Werner paddles. The acquisition will add lightweight thermoformed touring and recreational kayaks to Jackson’s product line.
“A thermoformed lineup was total synergy with what we’ve got going on the roto end of the house,” Kemp says. “Eddyline is high-end rec, and that market is not trashed like roto-rec has become due to direct-to-consumer sales and box store dumping.”
Werner paddles is a natural complement to Jackson’s expanded kayak line, Kemp says. “Even if you buy one of my competitor’s boats there’s a good chance that Werner is your paddle company.” All three brands trace their heritage to legendary founders, a point Jackson’s CEO Peter Hausin made when the Eddyline acquisition was announced.
“This is what’s been missing for us here at Jackson. It’s a fabulous product and it’s exciting to see how all of this is coming together, especially seeing Werner and Eddyline getting back to their shared origins,” Hausin says. The Eddyline-Werner connection dates to 1973, when Eddyline founder Tom Derrer began building touring kayaks designed by Werner Furrer Sr., the patriarch of Werner Paddles. Derrer’s pursuit of better sea kayaks led him to experiment with advanced laminating techniques such as vacuum bagging and, starting in 1994, thermoformed plastic. Eddyline has been a leader in thermoformed kayaks ever since.
Some in the industry caution that rotomolding and thermoforming are two very different processes, and Jackson’s mastery of the former doesn’t guarantee success in the latter. The transition will be eased by the arrival of key production leads at Eddyline’s shuttered Washington factory, who have resumed the same roles in Tennessee. Jackson also has some homegrown experience with thermoforming, including components and complete boats. The bigger challenge so far has been the accelerated transition. Still, Jackson is confident enough in the product to make a clear demarcation between the Mexican-made boats and the new Eddylines produced in Tennessee.
“We’ve always built kayaks for the love of the water and the adventure it brings,” says Hausin. “Eddyline shares that same passion, and together, we’re creating opportunities for paddlers of all kinds to get on the water and make memories.”
Eddyline’s former CEO Scott Holley engineered the move to Mexico and left the company shortly after Jackson Kayak purchased the company and moved operations to Tennessee. “I think really the synergies are kind of endless,” Holley said when news of the acquisition broke in February. “We really don’t compete against each other in the marketplace. It’s very different customers and very different paddlers that end up buying a Jackson versus an Eddyline.”
After leaving the company and the paddlesports industry—he now serves as Executive Director of the Lassonde Entrepreneur Institute at the University of Utah’s Eccles School of Business—Holley stands by that assessment and adds a caveat for everyone riding the latest wave of industry chaos and consolidation. “Having sat in the driver’s seat of a paddlesport brand, I have nothing but respect for everyone trying to work their way through these challenges.”
This article was first published in the 2025 issue of Kayak Angler Business, released in September 2025. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
Held at the Vatican for 100 years, a traditional Inuvialuit kayak is now returning home along with more than 60 other Inuit, First Nations and Métis objects. The kayak was identified by Darrell Nasogaluak, who learned how to build kayaks from his grandfather, as originating in Nasogaluak’s region of the Western Arctic based on the unique horn at the bow and stern of the kayak.
Unclear if historic Indigenous kayak was gift to Vatican or stolen
Designed to be lightweight and fast but fragile, Nasogaluak shared that this style of kayak was used to hunt beluga whales in the Mackenzie Delta, specifically near Kitigaaryuit, in Canada’s Northwest Territories. Kitigaaryuit is recognized as a national historic site in Canada.
The kayak was sent by Roman Catholic Missionaries in 1925 for the Vatican Mission Exposition along with as many as 100,000 other objects; it’s unclear if these objects were gifts or stolen. The intent of the exhibition was to demonstrate that the church was open to all cultures and show what daily life looked like for Indigenous people and for missionaries, according to CBC News.
Chair of the Inuvialuit Regional Corporation (IRC) Duane Smith has been steering the repatriation efforts. Smith shared with CBC News that he found it unlikely that the kayak was given as a gift.
After 100 years at the Vatican, this Inuvialuit kayak is returning to it’s home. Image: CBC News | YouTube
“To give your most valuable tool away during the most crucial time would not allow you to harvest your beluga to feed your family and community throughout the cold winter,” Smith told CBC News. Smith added that traditionally when a person passed away they’d be buried with their tools to use them in their next life. The kayak, harpoon and bow and arrow would all be placed on the ground above the hunter.
Traditional kayaks like this one were custom fit to the hunters body. The frame of the boat was made from driftwood with baleen, the keratin-based bristle-like filter feeding system used by baleen whales, for ties. The frame was then covered with sealskin and sewn together with sinew.
The IRC told CBC News that only a few Inuvialuit kayaks have survived, and many of the surviving kayaks sit in museums around the world.
“It’s a part of our history, our culture and what it means to be Inuvialuit,” said Smith.
Repatriated kayak is one of the few kayaks of its style left intact
The IRC has been working with the Canadian federal government, the Canadian Council of Catholic Bishops (CCCB) and the Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami (ITK), the national Inuit organization. The ITK shared that the conversations around bringing the kayak home began in 2022, when Indigenous delegates from Canada met with Pope Francis and toured the Vatican where they encountered the kayak on display.
“They’re trying to reconcile and together we have, under our discussions, we have come to this process as one form of reconciliation together,” Smith said.
A hunter in a traditional Inuvialuit kayak. Feature Image: Library Archives – Canada | CBC News YouTube.
While the initial negotiations included only the repatriation of the kayak, the Holy See wanted to include an additional 60 Inuit and First Nations cultural objects and the CCCB recommended the inclusion of a cultural object of Métis origin.
Nasogaluak told CBC News that he believes it isn’t necessarily a bad thing that the Vatican has had the kayak for the last century.
“Very few of them, other than in collections, none survived in the North,” said Nasogaluak. “I’ve seen fragments of them. And you know, the one that’s coming back is likely about the same age as the fragments I saw on the shore.”
Camping above Virginia Falls allowed us to break up the only portage over two days. Switchbacks descend into Fourth Canyon where the real whitewater begins. | Feature photo: Scott MacGregor
I turned right onto the Liard Highway. I’d already been driving north for two days toward the British Columbia-Northwest Territories border. At the border, the blacktop turns to gravel. On the last lonely 300-kilometer stretch of nowhere, I met only one other vehicle. A white pickup truck with a crew barreling faster than whatever the speed limit should have been getting the hell out of some work camp for the weekend.
I drove through a forest fire burning on either side of the road. I waited for a herd of bison to lumber to the shoulders. I needed to drive most of the night, so by morning, I’d get to make my last turn onto the Mackenzie Highway toward the ferry, which crosses the Liard River. From there, it’s only another 10 minutes to where the road ends, literally, at Fort Simpson. Tomorrow, I’d meet our guides and other guests, and we’d fly even farther north for two weeks together on the South Nahanni River.
A new generation is shaping the future of the Nahanni River
Meet the guides. Half of the groups who paddle the South Nahanni River do their own trip planning and food preparation. The rest leave the leadership and logistics to one of three licensed outfitters. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
When you fly with South Nahanni Airways, everything is carry-on. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
Forget everything you thought you knew about backcountry meals. I’ve never eaten better on a canoe trip, or at home. We dine on steaks, lasagna, chicken pot pie, peanut satay noodles, and my favorite: freshly baked bread, cinnamon buns and chocolate brownies. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
Sitting round the dining room table at the Mackenzie Rest Inn, we took turns introducing ourselves.
Rick was the only other whitewater paddler in our group and was the only other one to drive to Fort Simpson. As a retired U.S. Army colonel, Rick had the time for the six-day road trip from his cabin in northern Wisconsin. The rest of our group arrived on commercial flights routed through Edmonton or Yellowknife.
Kirk and Alanna had bounced around North America, Kirk as a railroader, while Alanna raised their family. Now retired, they travel and lead lakewater canoe trips for international students. Kirk has been dreaming of the Nahanni since he was a boy going to outdoor shows with his father.
Andy’s wife died earlier this year and he has recently been diagnosed with cancer. He wasn’t sure how many big adventures he had left. In Andy’s canoe will be his classmate Paul, a retired finance guy from Ontario. Paul is here for his university buddy. He fessed up early that he hadn’t done anything like this before, as if his crisp new outdoorsy clothes didn’t give it away. He promised to call home every day on a satellite phone to reassure his wife he hadn’t been eaten by bears or sucked from his canoe in big rapids.
The job of looking after Paul and the rest of us falls upon our two guides. Claire Lunen is a summer camp kid with a wild nest of curly hair and an infectious, cackly laugh. Our lead guide is 19-year-old Doug. Doug is my son. He and I have been playing in whitewater together since he was a toddler and I was a wilderness guide. It was his turn to take me down a river. This was his last trip of the summer; perhaps the last, after five summers guiding on northern rivers, before getting serious about an engineering degree.
As we passed the trays of cold cuts, Doug and Claire tell us most Black Feather guests do this northern trip first. It’s the 337-kilometer section of the South Nahanni River that everybody just calls the Nahanni. The scenery is spectacular. The whitewater should be manageable for a crew like ours. The Nahanni, they say, is either a lifelong dream and a box checked in someone’s life list, or it’s a gateway drug that hooks them on a lifetime of northern rivers.
Unloading two weeks’ worth of supplies at Rabbitkettle Lake. For us, the floatplane ride is just a cool perk at the beginning of the real adventure. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
Camping above Virginia Falls allowed us to break up the only portage over two days. Switchbacks descend into Fourth Canyon where the real whitewater begins. | Feature photo: Scott MacGregor
Below Virginia Falls is the beginning of the best part of canoeing the Nahanni, the canyons. If it seems funny Fourth Canyon is the first you come to, remember that explorers, cartographers and Dene people who mapped this part of the world were traveling upstream. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
After a two-hour floatplane ride farther north over the Mackenzie Mountains, our trip begins at Rabbitkettle Lake. From here, it’s a few days of swifty, non-technical class I whitewater, perfect for learning strokes and getting rid of our wobbles in the canoes. Unlike canoe trips you probably remember—or dread—from summer camp, most of the popular northern rivers have few portages. No humping canoes and gear from lake to lake, just around big rapids or waterfalls too big to paddle.
Right on schedule, we roll into Virginia Falls on our fourth day. It is our only portage, and it’s a doozy. The falls are twice the height of Niagara Falls and more impressive. The flow is divided around a toothy spire called Mason Rock. Mason Rock is named after Bill Mason, the canoeist, wilderness artist and filmmaker whose books and films captured the adventurous spirit of those of us growing up in the 1970s and 80s. We read his books, watched his films and promised ourselves that someday we’d paddle the Nahanni.
In 1970, Prime Minister Pierre Elliot Trudeau, with presumably less time to kill than we had, landed above and carried his canoe the 1,300 meters around Virginia Falls. I remember a black-and-white photograph of him standing below the falls where we did—where I’m sure everyone does—for a group photo. Fifty years later, nothing in the background is noticeably different, in part thanks to Trudeau.
You either look at the 96-meter drop of Virginia Falls for its natural beauty, like UNESCO did when it made the South Nahanni River a World Heritage Site, or you see its incredible hydroelectric potential. In 1972, with Trudeau’s influence back in Ottawa, the initial Nahanni River Park Reserve was established, forever protecting this magnificent group photo backdrop and Canada’s Grand Canyon below.
When you see and feel the power of Virginia Falls, it will be no surprise the Nahanni National Park Reserve was the first site in the world to be granted UNESCO World Heritage status. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
Below the falls,with Doug in the lead boat and Claire as sweep, we shoved our canoes into the class II whitewater Paul’s wife was at home worried sick about. It’s challenging to capture images from the stern of a bobbing canoe. The grandeur of 1,000-meter-high canyon walls doesn’t come through on a waterproof action camera the size of a Twinkie. How did early gold prospectors ever travel up this river, I wondered. Has anyone bothered since the invention of bush planes on floats? I doubt it.
While we were on the South Nahanni River, the federal and provincial governments were engaged in negotiations with the Dehcho First Nations and other Indigenous groups regarding unresolved land claims. These things move slowly.
Meanwhile, the park reserve is being cooperatively managed through a joint initiative between Parks Canada and the Dehcho First Nations. The focus is on protecting the ecological and cultural integrity of the area. An important evolution of the management plan is the continued integration of Dene culture and traditional knowledge into our visitor experience.
K’iyeli, an Indigenous business run by locals Marie-Jane and Gilbert Cazon, provides a Dene welcome session and blessing before every Black Feather trip. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
Over the last decade, the 50-year-old guiding companies operating in the Nahanni National Park Reserve have been changing hands. The new generation of owners and guides who now hold the commercial licences is continuing longtime traditions while incorporating new ways to provide more cultural experiences.
In Fort Simpson, before every Black Feather trip, K’iyeli, an Indigenous business run by locals Gilbert and Marie-Jane Cazon, provides a Dene welcome session and blessing. They have also worked with Black Feather guides during staff training. New owners of Black Feather, Ken and Stef MacDiarmid, expect to see even more integrated Indigenous culture, tourism employment and ownership of businesses providing services.
Tetlit Gwich’in river guide Bobbi Rose Koe and Nahanni River Adventures owner and guide Joel Hibbard cofounded Dinjii Zhuh Adventures and created the Indigenous Youth River Guide Training program. For three years, the program has been teaching Indigenous youth flatwater and whitewater canoeing, wilderness medicine and whitewater rescue training. While the canyons of the South Nahanni River will likely remain unchanged for the next 50 years, the stories told by Nahanni River guides are likely to be different.
Just above the high water line at Kraus Hot Springs it is a tradition to hang a signed paddle, big or small, in the Paddle Cabin. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
I’ll take the strong sulfur odor and concentrated dissolved mineral water of the remote Kraus Hot Springs on the bank of the Nahanni over the crowded Banff Hot Springs pools any day, especially after 12 days on the river. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
The aurora borealis is a phenomenon in itself. Thousands of people travel north to Churchill, Manitoba, and Yellowknife, N.W.T., just to watch the colors dance across the sky. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
On our last night, we camped at Last Chance Beach. The guides call it Last Chance because downstream the river valley opens up and the river braids into many shallow channels. Beyond our high cobblestone and sandy beach, it turns to muddy shorelines with scrubby alders.
Tomorrow we’ll shove off for the last time, pushing toward the Dene community of Nahanni Butte, located at the confluence of the Liard and South Nahanni rivers, and meet our van shuttle back to Fort Simpson.
Around the campfire, Doug and Claire share stories of other trips in the Northwest Territories. The Mountain River has the most exciting whitewater, Doug says. Claire hopes she’ll get to do a trip on the Keele next summer. Also on their lists to paddle are the South Nahanni River headwaters, known as the Moose Ponds, and the tributary rivers, Little Nahanni and Broken Skull.
Doug pulls out a stashed bottle of single malt Scotch for a toast. The shy banter around the dining room table at the Mackenzie Rest Inn has evolved into aggressive chirping and inside jokes no one back in the real world would think are funny. You had to be there, as they say. We finished the bottle.
Later that night, after the sun had finally set, I crawled out of my tent with a bladder fed too much whiskey. For the first time in two weeks, across the entire sky, the northern lights shimmered and danced. I rattled tents until everyone was out, wandering around in their underwear. It was our last chance.
Science nerds say the show is caused by magnetic storms triggered by explosions on the sun carried to us by solar wind. The Dene people, however, believe the aurora is a fire built by the world’s Creator. The colors in the night sky are there to remind us that the Creator is still watching over us. Watching over the South Nahanni River.
Eventually, the Creator must have been satisfied with what he’d seen and snuffed out the fire in the sky. I crawled back into my tent. In my journal I checked the Nahanni River off my list and added the Mountain. Then I fell asleep.
Scott MacGregor is the founder of Paddling Magazine.
This article was published in Issue 74 of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
Camping above Virginia Falls allowed us to break up the only portage over two days. Switchbacks descend into Fourth Canyon where the real whitewater begins. | Feature photo: Scott MacGregor
In Vermont on a partially frozen pond, a 19-year-old took to frigid waters armed with a canoe, rake, shovel and life jacket to rescue a deer that had broken through thin ice. Griffin Marquis was on his way home when he received a call from his grandfather. The message: a deer had fallen through the ice on Derby Pond.
Young hunter canoes out to deer stranded on frozen pond
Upon arrival home, Marquis got into a canoe and used a shovel to both paddle and haul himself across the ice to reach the doe.
“The deer was pretty shaken up,” Marquis shared. “It didn’t have a whole lot of energy left.”
After reaching the doe, Marquis attempted several methods of rescue from towing the doe with a rope to pulling the doe closer with a rake. Eventually and after repeated attempts, Marquis got the deer into his canoe.
Feature Image: Griffin Marquis paddles out on frozen Derby Pond to rescue a deer. CNN Newsource/WCAX/WKRC | YouTube
“It wasn’t really happy to be in there with me, but it made it in,” Marquis said. “So I sat for another about three minutes with it in the canoe, try to calm it down, make it feel safe.”
The doe relaxed and Marquis began the journey to shore, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. The canoe broke through ice on the surface of the water, making a loud noise. Startled, the doe lurched and jumped out of the canoe, sending both Marquis and the deer into the chilly waters of Derby Pond. Thanks in part to Marquis’ choice to wear a life jacket, he made it back to shore safely, but the doe was still in peril.
“I went under, right over my head. Took the wind right out of me and breath out of me and it was just kind of fight mode to get out of there,” said Marquis.
The Derby Pond rescue continues
Upon reaching shore Marquis warmed up with a hot shower and made to head back out to continue rescuing the doe. His grandfather, Doug Spates, watched the whole ordeal from shore and encouraged Marquis not to go back out.
“I just said ‘Griff this isn’t worth it. You know I want to save a deer but it’s not worth something happening,’” said Spates. “But you don’t say no to Griff, because he was pretty determined that he was going to save that deer.”
Marquis couldn’t be persuaded and paddled back out to the deer a second time. When he reached the doe, Marquis grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, and with his other hand paddled the canoe with a rake. When he reached shallower water, Marquis jumped out of the canoe and pulled the deer to safety.
CNN Newsource/WCAX/WKRC reported that in addition to being an animal rescuer, Marquis is also an avid hunter.
“I figured you know, my life revolves a lot about hunting,” explained Marquis. “I love to hunt and I know that I’m putting it [the deer] to good use. I’m feeding my family, I’m feeding my friends and I thank that deer very much for letting me take its life. I figured I could give back to the deer myself.”
“Obviously I didn’t want to sit there and watch it suffer. I figured I’d do what I could to get it out,” Marquis added. “It was a sigh of relief, watching it walk away into the woods.”
Sporting goods is among the three most-affected market segments among hundreds of industries affected by tariffs. | Feature photo: Alamy
We all saw this coming. During the 2024 U.S. presidential campaign, Donald Trump frequently expounded on his love for tariffs, a variety of tax on international trade he calls “the most beautiful word in the dictionary.” The president made liberal use of tariffs in his first administration, starting in 2018 with a series of levies that roiled the paddlesports industry. And when Trump left office in 2021, his successor Joe Biden kept many of those tariffs in place.
Since regaining office in January 2025, Trump has used tariffs and the threat of tariffs as a cudgel against friend and foe alike. By April, he had tariffed nearly every country on the face of the Earth, with special attention to America’s two biggest trading partners, Canada and Mexico, and its greatest economic rival, China. Dozens of countries announced counter-tariffs, both targeted and broad-based.
Sweeping trade war hits paddlesports from all sides with little relief in sight
Paddlesports is vulnerable
Paddlesports is a globally integrated industry, straddling the retail, service and manufacturing sectors. The United States, Canada and Europe all make boats and paddling gear, and all import boats and equipment from each other. As a globally integrated industry, tariffs hit the paddlesports business both coming and going.
The supply chain economist Jason Miller has tracked tariffs by North American Industry Classification System [NAICS] codes, and found that sporting goods is among the three most-affected market segments among hundreds of demarcated industries.
“Outdoor products and paddlesports particularly are just incredibly susceptible because you have inelastic price demand for durable goods,” says former Eddyline CEO Scott Holley, now with the Eccles School of Business at the University of Utah. “What you’re paying tariffs for is a larger portion of the finished product compared to something like electronics where you’re buying a lot of engineering talent and marketing. In paddlesports, the ratio of goods that are tariffed to services within the cost structure is much higher.”
Sporting goods is among the three most-affected market segments among hundreds of industries affected by tariffs. | Feature photo: Alamy
Okay, class dismissed. How does that play out in the real world? If you ask almost anyone in the paddling business, they’ll say it sure would be nice to know. Because right now it’s still anyone’s guess.
“Business owners can handle pretty much anything except for unpredictability. We can predict a lot, but we can’t predict what the president is going to do today,” says Rutabaga Paddlesports owner Darren Bush. “We’re living in a roulette wheel.”
Sea Eagle partner John Hoge is no stranger to the tariff game. During the last round of Trump tariffs starting in 2018 he proved to be a savvy player, applying for and receiving exemptions for the drop-stitch kayaks and aluminum paddles he imports from Asia. Those exemptions expired after 18 months, and Biden kept many of the so-called Trump tariffs in place when he took office in 2021. In the interim, Sea Eagle had moved the bulk of its inflatable kayak production from China to Vietnam. In January this year, Hoge told Paddling Business the shift had given him a relative leg up on competitors who stayed in China.
Weeks later, Trump announced a new 46 percent tariff on Vietnam.
“When it comes to tariffs, I’m pretty much in a Jesus-take-the-wheel mindset.”
—Simon Coward, AQ Outdoors
The episode illustrates the unpredictable tariff environment paddlesports finds itself in. Hoge was not immediately impacted by the increased Vietnam tariffs because he had filled his warehouse with product between the U.S. election in November 2024 and President Trump’s inauguration on January 20th this year. That strategy has paid off—so far.
“A company’s reaction could be ingenious if it’s in anticipation, or ruinous if you zig when Trump zags,” he says. “With 145 percent Chinese tariffs, a whole bunch of crazy stuff starts to make sense. But if you put a couple million bucks in that direction and then [the Chinese tariff] goes back to 30 percent—like it did—that’s all wasted.”
In July, President Trump announced he’d reached a deal with Vietnam to stabilize tariffs at 20 percent. Hours later, Politico reported that the rate in a draft agreement painstakingly negotiated by both sides had in fact been 11 percent. As Paddling Business went to press no formal deal with Vietnam had been signed.
The roulette wheel spins on.
As a globally integrated industry, tariffs hit the paddlesports business both coming and going. | Photo: Courtesy AQ Outdoors
No winners, just losers
President Trump claims his tariffs will revitalize American manufacturing and make the United States “rich as hell.” If those policies boost any American industry, it should be paddlesports. Hardshell boats are produced all over the world—in China, Europe, Canada and in the United States, where leading brands compete effectively with foreign rivals at every price point.
If any companies were to benefit from tariffs, it should be the likes of Jackson Kayak in Sparta, Tennessee, BIG Adventures in Fletcher, North Carolina, and Confluence in Greenville, South Carolina. Yet those companies report tariffs have actually hurt their business, both at home and especially abroad. All export to countries that have enacted retaliatory tariffs on American goods. Meanwhile, the Trump tariffs have increased materials costs, sometimes dramatically.
“Nobody’s gaining because even for American-made boats, the plastic came from China,” says OKC Kayak owner Dave Lindo. “The screws, the fittings, the seats—all of it came from abroad.”
Chinese plastic can be tariffed both coming and going because the polyethylene trade between the U.S. and China is a circular one. China consumes 38 percent of U.S. ethane-ethylene exports, much of which returns stateside as toys, drainpipes, sandwich bags, and the high-density polyethylene pellets many U.S. kayak manufacturers mold into boats. In March, Trump boosted the tariff on the import of Chinese plastic from 10 to 20 percent. While modest compared to the levy on many other Chinese products, this adds up to real money: China exported $18.2 billion worth of plastic to the United States in 2024. If the trade volume remains the same this year, American importers will pay an additional $3.6 billion in tariffs just to take delivery. Though paddlesports accounts for a tiny sliver of those U.S. plastics imports, plastic feedstock is the biggest single material expense for every kayak manufacturer.
In April, Trump imposed a 25 percent levy on all steel and aluminum imports to the United States, and then doubled the tax to 50 percent in June. The impact is impossible to avoid, even for manufacturers that source materials domestically.
“Our fastener suppliers make our stainless-steel bolts here, but guess where they buy their metal? It’s not the United States,” says Jackson Kayak Director of Sales Colin Kemp. “Even now, depending on the vendor, we’re already getting hit with 15 percent cost increases because of tariffs.”
Meanwhile, retaliatory tariffs from the EU and Canada are decimating export markets for U.S. paddlesports firms. Six years ago, a 25 percent EU tariff on U.S. kayaks and canoes made it nearly impossible for American companies to remain price-competitive, and the cost of U.S.-made paddlecraft remains high throughout Europe.
“Today a Waka Billy Goat is €1,399 ($1,622 USD) at my local shop. A Jackson Gnarvana is €2,499 ($2,898 USD),” an Irish paddler reported on Reddit in June. “Sales of U.S.-made stuff is going to shrink massively.” Jackson kayaks are made in Tennessee; Waka kayaks in Italy.
Jackson and other U.S.-made kayaks are also more expensive in Canada. Western Canoe Kayak in British Columbia stocks the Gnarvana for $2,475 CAD ($1,803 USD)—about $200 more than the typical stateside price. Those prices could well increase later this season or next year, after retailers sell through inventory they imported before Canada’s retaliatory tariffs took effect.
“Business owners can handle pretty much anything except for unpredictability…We’re living in a roulette wheel.”
—Darren Bush, Rutabaga
The Trump tariffs, and the president’s aggressive language about making Canada “the 51st state,” have provoked a powerful backlash, with 78 percent of Canadians telling the Angus Reid Institute they are buying fewer American products in response. “All the major supermarkets here are highlighting what’s Canadian and what’s not,” says Simon Coward, owner of AQ Outdoors in Calgary. The saving grace for American paddlesports companies selling into Canada is the relative dearth of made-in-Canada alternatives.
“We wouldn’t have any product if we didn’t have U.S. product. We’d be selling Level Six and Salus and I don’t know what else,” Coward says.
AQ Outdoors’ drysuit rack is a microcosm of the tariff effect on paddlesports. The Calgary specialty retailer sells Level Six from Canada, Asian-made suits from NRS, and Kokatat from the United States. Level Six ships tariff-free within Canada, and NRS avoids duties on products it ships directly to Canada from Asian factories. Kokatat must pay Canada’s 25 percent retaliatory tariff on U.S. goods. As a result, Coward says, the Kokatat price has shot up relative to the Canadian and Asian competition. “Level Six and NRS drysuits range from $1,300 to $1,800 CAD ($950 to $1,300 USD), and now Kokatat drysuits are $2,500 CAD ($1,800 USD),” Coward says.
“These tariffs have really impacted our exports,” says Steve Jordan, who handles international and domestic sales at BIG Adventures. The North Carolina-based manufacturer of Liquidlogic, Native Watercraft and Bonafide kayaks worked hard to keep its foothold in Europe during the first Trump administration, when the European Union answered U.S. tariffs with a 25 percent import tax on canoes and kayaks. “A lot of brands pulled out of the European market because of those tariffs, but we stayed committed. We got very creative with our distributor in Germany to find ways to minimize the impact, and we were able to survive it.”
To Jordan, the second Trump administration feels like déjà vu with a twist. “Now we’re faced with another tariff and a big part of it is just the uncertainty. One minute it’s 25 percent, one minute it’s going to be 50 percent,” he says. “It’s hard to manage your strategy when the tariffs are just all over the map.”
Prices could increase next year after retailers sell through inventory they imported before tariffs took effect. | Photo: Brenna Kelly
From boat manufacturers to paddle makers, tariff uncertainty makes for a challenging business climate. | Photo: Patrycja Hyrsz
No sudden moves
The tariffs have left everyone in the paddlesports industry mulling the sticky question of how much of the tariff costs they should—or can afford not to—pass along. For many, the question is a matter of forecasting. They still have warehouses full of imported goods, and the tariff environment remains, to put it very simply, fluid.
“If there’s anything we’ve learned throughout this tariff situation is that it can change on a dime,” says NRS Chief Marketing Officer Mark Deming. “Our philosophy is to stay the course for now and monitor it really closely. When we need to make a move, we’ll make a move, but we’re not going to make knee-jerk decisions we might have to reverse.”
“In these times, the old saying that hope is not a strategy doesn’t apply. Hope is the only strategy.”
—John Hoge, Sea Eagle
Coward initially spent a lot of time trying to plan for tariffs, before deciding just to watch his brokerage invoices and adjust prices as needed. “It’s a bit reactive, which we don’t love being, but being too proactive in such tumultuous times can be a bit of a time suck,” he says. “When it comes to tariffs, I’m pretty much in a Jesus-take-the-wheel mindset.”
While the full impact on pricing won’t become clear until brands release their 2026 price lists, some companies already have announced midseason increases, citing the cost of tariffs. “We’ve gotten letters saying tariff prices are in force as of today, from accessory brands as well as boat manufacturers, so the tariff effect from Donald Trump is already here,” OKC Kayak’s Lindo told Paddling Business in June. The Yale Budget Lab estimates Trump’s tariffs could cost the average American family an extra $2,400 this year. That leaves precious little for discretionary purchases like boats and paddling gear.
“The problem is people are resisting buying at the old prices,” Lindo says. “They’re not going to buy it at this new price at all.”
Consumer confidence in the United States has declined sharply since January, and the mood looking forward is glum. The Conference Board’s Expectations Index—a monthly assessment of consumers’ short-term outlook for income, business and labor market conditions—dipped to 69 in June before rebounding to 74.4 in July—still well below the threshold of 80 that typically signals a recession ahead. The retreat in confidence was shared by all age groups and political affiliations, and almost all income groups. Notably, tariffs remained on top of consumers’ minds and were frequently associated with concerns about inflation, high prices and the negative impact of tariffs on the economy.
The Conference Board and similar surveys are focused on the entire U.S. economy or industry segments far larger than paddlesports. To assess the impact on paddling specialty retail, livery operations and manufacturing we must rely on anecdotal reports. Those are not good.
In a business environment characterized by slow sales and uncertain demand, the last thing paddlesports needs is increased taxes—let’s not forget that tariffs are a type of tax—and more uncertainty. That’s what the industry is facing now, Hoge says. “We have to place orders from Vietnam and in theory that could snap back to 46 percent. That would be ruinous,” he says.
And if it does?
“We’re just hoping it doesn’t,” he says. “In these times, the old saying that hope is not a strategy doesn’t apply. Hope is the only strategy.”
The Explainer, Tariff Edition
Some (but not all) of President Trump’s tariff actions in one sentence
Ready? Deep breath … Go!
Since taking office on January 20, 2025, President Donald Trump has launched sweeping trade policies centered around import taxes, aka tariffs, on goods from nearly every country on the planet, starting with his announcement hours after being sworn in that America’s two closest neighbors and biggest trading partners, Canada and Mexico, would pay for their inability to stop the flow of fentanyl from Mexico (and imaginary fentanyl from Canada) with 25 percent tariffs; then on January 25, 2025 Trump announced a 60 percent tariff on all Chinese imports including electronics, electric vehicles, non-electric vehicles, steel, textiles, and more, as part of an “economic decoupling strategy” from the world’s second-biggest economy; then on February 11, Trump resurrected a 25 percent tariff on all foreign steel and aluminum; and then on March 11, Trump aimed his ire at the fentanyl lords of the Great White North, threatening to double tariffs on Canadian steel and aluminum and maybe annex the whole country, which got Mark Carney elected prime minister; followed on March 13 by a 60 percent tariff on Vietnamese electronics and textiles because, according to Trump (and pretty much everyone else) Vietnam was and still is acting as a proxy for Chinese companies; then on March 26 Trump announced a 25 percent tariff on Mexican and Canadian automobiles and auto parts (in apparent breach of the United States-Mexico-Canada trade agreement, which Trump himself negotiated in his first term and hailed as “the best agreement we’ve ever made!” so he later backed off of those tariffs); all of which was prelude to April 2 (“Liberation Day”) when Trump announced a 10 percent baseline tariff on imports from almost every country in the world, including uninhabited islands but not Russia, plus higher “reciprocal” tariffs on dozens of countries that, briefly, pushed tariffs on Vietnamese imports to 45 percent and China tariffs to 145 percent, causing the global stock markets to plunge and Trump to suspend the reciprocal tariffs for 90 days to give countries time to make deals with the White House, which none did, so then Trump extended the deadline to August 1; but in the meantime, he doubled steel and aluminum tariffs to 50 percent and the administration later announced that the United States had collected $27.2 billion in tariff revenues in the month of June, which is a lot of money but probably not enough for Congress to replace portions of federal income tax with tariff revenue as the president has suggested and experts warn would drive inflation, provoke retaliatory tariffs, upend supply chains and destabilize global markets; and then, on July 27, the president announced “the biggest of all the deals,” setting a 15 percent tariff on most U.S. trade with the European Union, and no tariff on U.S. goods going the other way,which brings us to August 21, when Paddling Business went to press, and if you don’t like the tariffs now just wait, because U.S. tariff policy is like the weather in Maine, it changes every five minutes.
This article was first published in the 2025 issue of Paddling Business. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
Sporting goods is among the three most-affected market segments among hundreds of industries affected by tariffs. | Feature photo: Alamy
Nikki Bettis and daughter "Not Oatmeal" paddle the Mississippi River. Image: 32 Feet Up
On November 22, 2025 single mother Nikki Bettis and her seven youngest children finished paddling the Mississippi River, reaching the Gulf of Mexico after 2,350 miles in 96 days. In 2023, the family, including the oldest eight children, had hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. The crew took on the name 32 Feet Up, accounting for the 15 sets of feet of her children and Bettis herself.
The Mississippi paddlers in Bettis’ family range in age from six to fourteen, and the family was accompanied by their adopted grandfather, Smoky. Paddling Mag caught up with Bettis to learn more about the logistics, challenges and rewards of thru-paddling with kids.
Single mom thru-paddles Mississippi with seven children
Bettis shared that going outside with kids, whether for a short paddle or the entire Mississippi can feel daunting.
“My biggest thing I have learned,” explained Bettis, “[is that] you’ll never ever have all of the answers.”
With a background in hiking and mountains, paddling the Mississippi was a new challenge for the family; the risks and hazards were different from what Bettis expected.
The Bettis family paddles the Mississippi River from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico. Image: 32 Feet Up
“The internet screams whirlpools, eddies, currents, things like that… and that kind of shocked me how many people are actually afraid of the river itself. You get out here and if you have some common sense and go into it educated, this is absolutely possible.”
For Bettis, the perceived dangers of the trip, steep eddylines and whirlpools, didn’t match up with the reality the family experienced on the water. In fact, the biggest hazards for the family came from close calls with other humans.
“Speedboats on lakes… those were the most dangerous things we’ve encountered so far,” shared Bettis, adding that the scariest moment of the trip for her was when a speed boat on a lake cut through the group, separating the family and throwing a wake. “We communicate well with our VHF radios but it was actually the speedboats of the lakes up north [that posed a hazard].”
Education through paddling along the Mississippi River
While the traditional thru-paddle might go for speed or miles, Bettis’ goal was to use the river as an interactive classroom and teaching tool for her homeschooled children. After traditionally homeschooling her older eight children, Bettis shared some of the merits of the hands-on classroom the outdoors offers.
“Everything comes to life,” explained Bettis about homeschooling from the water. “They’re a lot more prone to remembering things and identifying with it if they’ve touched it, seen it, smelled it, lived it.”
Nikki Bettis and daughter “Not Oatmeal” paddle the Mississippi River. Feature Image: 32 Feet Up
Bettis’ homeschooling on the river was made possible by a support vehicle, enabling the family to leave the river banks and head into towns and cities along the way to better learn. Leading up to the trail, Bettis focused on researching and educating her children on water safety. Once on the trail, the education goals shifted to science, geography and history.
“We’re not doing paperwork. It’s just not happening on the trail,” explained Bettis. “I want to give them experiences… honestly I still to this day kind of hated history up until this trail. Then you realize the things that happened around you, and you’re standing on the ground it actually happened on.”
Nikki Bettis hopes her journeys with her family will inspire others to get outside
After hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2023 with all 15 of her children, it took some time to adjust to the dynamics of a smaller group with the younger seven children and become acquainted with a new type of trail.
“It’s almost like a relationship that develops. You begin to fall in love with the sound of barges at night and the trains,” said Bettis. “It’s a very bittersweet feeling and I think that goes with any trail because you realize all these things are coming to an end.”
Ultimately, hopes in sharing about her and her families’ adventures is that they inspire other families and people to get outside.
“You don’t have to thru-paddle or thru-hike anything… just get out there and start having experiences,” shared Bettis. “One of the best things for us as a family is getting away from screens… when you’re paddling, your hands are tied up. You’re not drinking as much water, you’re not testing and it forces you to just be in the moment. I think more people need to do that, just get outside.”
During the holiday season, some are gearing up for winter activities like skiing and skating, some are planning to mad dash across malls for their holiday shopping, but if you’re like us, you’re probably scouring the web to see what kind of Black Friday kayak deals you can discover and score some sweet new paddling gear for you and yours.
Well, search no longer. We’ve gone ahead a put together an up-to-date list of the best kayak deals we could find across the internet for the most anticipated shopping event of the year. Check back daily as new deals go live.
Best Black Friday & Cyber Monday kayak deals
Our favorite deals
Jackson Kayak Flow 40% off.
Advanced Elements
Packlite Packraft 50% off at Eco Fishing Shop — $979.99$499.99
Save on select flotation, drysuits, gear and apparel. Each order removes marine debris from the Pacific thanks to the Blue Friday initiative — Up to 40% off
James Campbell wasn’t at all the sporty creeker guy Dagger designer Snowy Robertson spent two years building a boat for. But Campbell is going to buy one anyway. | Feature photo: Scott MacGregor
What do General Electric engineer James Wright, 3M Laboratories researcher Spencer Silver, and Dagger Kayaks designer Mark “Snowy” Robertson all have in common? Need a hint? Three of these guys created something awesome by mistake. They didn’t set out to create Silly Putty, Post-it sticky notes and a quiver-killing whitewater kayak. But the world is a better place nonetheless.
Whitewater Kayak Review: Dagger Indra
The Dagger Indra was intended to be a sport creeker. “Our team of Dagger athletes were asking for a boat capable of running creeks, but with more playability,” says Robertson. “Something between the Rewind and the Code, with some speed of the Phantom.”
Before I tell you how awesome this boat is, let’s look at all the little bits that make it so.
If you’re still paddling a Dagger Mamba or Axiom, or any other kayak from way back before the pandemic, you’re going to love the bow of new Dagger boats. With each new boat, beginning with the Phantom, Robertson and his team have added more rocker. So far, more rocker has always been better.
They’ve also played with width, volume and deck shape ahead of the cockpit. If you’re a mountain biker, it’s a bit like riding a 29er for the first time—the front wheel seems huge. They roll over everything. Same with the bow of the Indra. Stop looking at the bow and let it ride up and over pretty much everything in its path.
“In the Indra, we added even more rocker and more width to the bow,” says Robertson. “It stays on the surface and feels floatier. It’s easier to maintain speed when the bow is dry. And, water isn’t hitting you in the chest.”
Watching the bow of the Indra skip over holes and reactionary waves is impressive. If I were in the marketing department at Dagger, I’d create side-by-side video comparisons of the Mamba and the Indra running the same drops and punching through the same holes. I’d show team athletes doing it, and I’d film club boaters, too. Or bring back paddling demo days and let naysayers try it for themselves. We’ve truly come a long way. It’s shocking how much easier and more fun the Indras are to paddle.
James Campbell wasn’t at all the sporty creeker guy Dagger designer Snowy Robertson spent two years building a boat for. But Campbell is going to buy one anyway. | Feature photo: Scott MacGregor
Okay, the bow rocker evolution is cool. But it’s not the real news story here. We need also to be excited about the stern of the Indra.
First, Robertson and the team removed volume from the stern of the Indra. Not too much, though; it’s still a long, long way from a Rewind. To me the stern looks like an overstuffed sunflower seed. The goal was a sportier stern to match the creek boat bow, not slicey.
“The thinner nature of the stern is to pivot but not go vertical,” says Robertson. “With a bow you can sweep across and over things, we could design the stern so you can dip and load the last two feet and steer from the tail.”
The Indra is roughly the same width as the Code. The planing hull is, however, flatter and wider, with longer and sharper rails. It feels floatier. By floatier I mean more on the surface and looser. The Indra also planes up more when charging across eddylines. The modified rails make the Indra a little closer to feeling like a slalom boat. I know, sounds funny to say about a creek boat. But it’s racier. Dynamic. More precise. All in a really fun way, without it feeling edgy or uncomfortable.
Highly bow-rockered boats, like the Indra, kick up into a wheelie position as they punch over waves and holes and land drops. The more vertical they go and the longer the bow stays elevated in a wheelie position, the harder it is to see where you’re going. And the longer the stern drags, the more forward speed is inhibited. I don’t know about you, but I like seeing where I’m going and I like to carry speed past the scary stuff.
We know from surfing a kayak is faster flat than rocked back on its stern.
“We designed the Indra with camber in the last 12 to 15 inches of the stern. Camber is like a reverse rocker that we’ve used to get the bow down,” says Robertson. “Coming off a drop the Indra will rear up, but then we want the bow to drop back down as quickly as possible to glide across the pool.” Think of camber like a wheelie bar on a dragster.
Available in two sizes: S/M and M/L. at 6’2” tall and 180 pounds, I can paddle both depending on the river. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
Rather than a continuous rocker stern like the Code, the Indra stern is cambered and fluted.
Less volume. More speed. A bit of slice. More fun. | Photo: Scott MacGregor
You’re probably thinking, this all seems fantastic if you’re a pro athlete paddling eight months a year and eating ramen on the tailgate of your Tacoma. Sorta by mistake, all the things that make the Indra great as a sport creeker inadvertently, and accidentally perhaps, also make it the perfect working man’s one boat to do it all.
“At first we sold Indras to early adopters. These were the younger, charging paddlers who wanted a boat to run harder whitewater but still be playful. That’s who the marketing grabbed and they loved it,” says Simon Coward, instructor and owner at AQ Outdoors in Calgary. “As more people jump in the Indra on courses and demos, the more Indras we are selling to class III paddlers.”
Coward says, “The Indra looks after people while running the river.” I like that.
Class III paddlers don’t need a beefy creek boat like the Code. They don’t need to stern squirt, but they still want to surf waves all the way down the river. The Indra is a nice middle ground, like how we used to feel about the Mamba. We loved the Mamba, didn’t we? The Indra performs better, in every way. You’ll see.
You know what else is better about the Indra? Dagger’s Contour Ergo Outfitting with angle-adjust thigh braces and two different fits for more or less aggressive thigh hook and increased comfort.
Sometimes scientists, inventors and designers get lucky. The Dagger Indra will have much greater appeal than just its intended audience. Fun like Silly Putty. Handy for everyday use, like sticky notes.
This article was published in Issue 74 of Paddling Magazine. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
James Campbell wasn’t at all the sporty creeker guy Dagger designer Snowy Robertson spent two years building a boat for. But Campbell is going to buy one anyway. | Feature photo: Scott MacGregor
Getting a bird’s eye view. | Feature photo: Paul Villecourt
As you dive into this issue of Paddling Business and tales of a tumultuous year for the industry, here’s something worth remembering.
Behind paddling’s participation boom
There’s an old Taoist parable about a farmer whose horse runs away. When his neighbors cry, “What bad luck,” the man simply replies, “We’ll see.” When his wayward horse returns with another, the neighbors cheer, “What good luck!” Again, the man says,“We’ll see.” When the man’s son breaks his leg riding the new horse, again the neighbors cry, “Terrible luck,” until the injury spares the son from going to war.
The point, of course, is no one knows what fortune brings while the story is unfolding.
Paddlesports is living that parable. Five years ago, the industry was riding high on a pandemic boom. Then came the bust. This year, tariffs, economic uncertainty and cautious consumers have many bracing. Inside Paddling Business, you’ll hear many predictions, though no one knows for certain what comes next.
Getting a bird’s eye view. | Feature photo: Paul Villecourt
Here’s one thing we do know, and it’s this year’s underappreciated good news story: Paddlesports participation is at an all-time high. Nearly 30 million Americans went paddling last year, up 2.7 percent year-over-year, and up 22 percent since 2019, according to the Outdoor Industry Association’s (OIA) newly released 2024 participation report. Research director Kelly Davis dubs paddlesports “healthy and growing.”
There was growth across all disciplines, though modest in some. Standup paddleboarding continues to lead, averaging 4.4 percent annual growth over the last five years, and a 6.6 percent increase between 2023 and 2024. Canoeing saw the smallest growth year-over-year (1.1 percent) while sea kayaking saw the smallest growth over the last five years (1.7 percent). Still, both stats are an improvement from 2015-2018, when participation in canoeing and sea kayaking was shrinking.
In 2017, recreational kayaking overtook canoeing as America’s most popular paddlesport, and it remains not only the largest discipline, but it also boasts the highest share of frequent paddlers at 23 percent—defined as those who paddled more than eight times a year.
Last year was also a milestone year for another reason. The paddlesports gender gap has narrowed significantly over the last decade, and 2024 saw an almost equal number of male and female paddlers (49 percent female versus 51 percent male). Sea kayaking had the largest proportion of male participants (66 percent), while paddleboarding had the highest percentage of female participants (58 percent). Recreational kayaking also had more female participants than male participants, though by a smaller margin (53 percent).
Ethnic diversity has increased in paddlesports, too, though not as much as in other outdoor activities, which has contributed to outdoor participation growth across the U.S.
“Diversity has driven growth across the outdoor participant base for the past five years, and paddlesports has become more diverse during that time period. However, there is room for growth in diversity across paddle disciplines,” writes Kelly.
And despite the classic dirtbag image, more than 40 percent of frequent paddlers have a household income higher than $100,000, compared with one in three households in the study.
Nearly every signal in the OIA’s participation data is positive. Times are tough for many, but as the Taoist farmer might say, we’ll see. What’s certain is that the base is bigger, more diverse and more affluent than ever. Dive deeper into the participation data.
This article was first published in the 2025 issue of Paddling Business. Subscribe to Paddling Magazine’s print and digital editions, or browse the archives.
Getting a bird’s eye view. | Feature photo: Paul Villecourt
This article was first published in the 2025 issue of Kayak Angler Business, released in September 2025. 
This article was published in Issue 74 of Paddling Magazine. 
This article was first published in the 2025 issue of Paddling Business. 
