I’ve been kayaking for several years now. I’ve taken safety and self-rescue courses. I’ve taken some rolling clinics. I’m proud to say that I can wet exit faster than a rat abandoning a sinking ship. But sadly, I still can’t roll. I have, however, confidently and quite unerringly mastered the first half.
So I have to ask myself, “How important is rolling anyway?” Let’s face it, apart from offering peace of mind on rough waters and open crossings, or as a means of cooling off on hot days, or even possibly saving your life; the real reason to roll is simply to show off. Rolling looks cool and impresses onlookers. So my next question is, “Is there an easier way to look cool?”
I found my answer one evening while watching a kayaking DVD with a good buddy (who happens to be one of those talented show-offs I’m referring to). Feigning boredom, I watched as big beefy Brits paddled at someplace called “The Bitches” in southwest Wales. I watched as these guys paddled through huge standing waves seemingly as easily as I paddle through glassy calmness. Inwardly it made me cringe just to watch. They were doing nose blunts in sea kayaks in heavy surf, just to show off, and of course the rolling was second nature—an involuntary action, like breathing. Then I saw it: my personal Holy Grail of coolness.
After every successful completion of, or recovery from, some risky move, these paddlers would twirl their paddles. Similar to the way a drummer twirls drum sticks. Riveted to the TV, I studied the intricacies of this skill. The paddle is raised over the head with one hand and then…twirled. Not only did it look way cooler than rolling; more importantly, it looked easier. Forget learning how to roll. I was going to have my drummer buddy teach me how to twirl my paddle like a rock star.
So off I ventured to master this skill of paddle twirling. In the privacy of my backyard I laid out my boat on the soft green grass and gingerly stepped into it. With my imagination racing ahead to a vision of my fellow paddlers watching in awe, I began.
Sadly, paddle twirling turned out to be incredibly challenging, surprisingly dangerous, and not nearly as cool feeling as I had hoped. Fumbling to spin a long thick piece of wood in one hand while awkwardly trying to avoid possible head trauma was not the graceful action I had anticipated. Now my vision became the embarrassing image of dropping my paddle, losing my balance on the water and ending up in the aforementioned half-roll position—without my paddle. There was also the constant looming threat of nicking my boat, along with the humiliation of having to explain the damage. Not cool.
So, I decided to venture out on a calm and quiet day and give this rolling business another try. I found a tiny secluded cove in the nearby lake. I looked around to make sure I was alone, took a deep breath, leaned forward and went for it. A few more failed attempts and it was time to call it a day. I headed home, once again wet, exhausted and somewhat discouraged— but not defeated.
I did the only thing that made any sense at that point.
I bought myself another kayak. A nice new Greenland-style boat in British racing green with yellow trim. I’ll confess that I haven’t totally given up on rolling, but this new boat looks pretty sharp out there on the water. And until I learn how to roll a kayak or twirl a paddle over my head, it makes me look pretty cool. The best part is that I don’t have to do a thing but sit back and smile.
Cool.
Lorenzo Del Bianco is a freelance illustrator and a regular contributor to Adventure Kayak. Although it can be humiliating, we strongly advise practicing the roll with a buddy.
This article originally appeared in Adventure Kayak Magazine, Early Summer 2008. Download our free iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch App or Android App or read it here.
