Paddling Whitewater: Off the Couch

Off the couch is an expression that comes up a lot in whitewater kayaking. It often refers to the first runs of the season after a layoff of several months; when you're skills are rusty, you're not in paddling shape, and even your gear is a little bit questionable (if you can even find it in the back of the garage). Sometimes you come off the couch because of an injury, or because you've been too busy to boat for a bit. Sometimes your period of inactivity is as much as a year, maybe even two. For me it's been three years since I sat in a whitewater boat, and four years since I paddled anything of consequence. That's not just off-the-couch, it's off-the-coma-bed.

But when my best friend invited me on a weekend of paddling a classic Class IV stretch of whitewater in far northern California it was too tempting to pass up. The Smith River has long been on my list of must-do drainages, and the NF Smith seemed within reason - maybe. Jumping back into whitewater at Class IV seemed reasonable - I used to paddle much harder stuff - but it also seemed like it might be a mistake to paddle a thirteen mile wilderness stretch, a river we didn't know, a long way from home, with only the two of us. When a storm came in the weekend before and the river spiked to 30,000 cfs, I definitely had second thoughts.

But things came together like all great river trips do. I went to the pool a couple weeks ahead of time to make sure my boat still floats and my roll still works. Yes to both, and I ended up spending most of my time teaching a newbie how to roll - so that muscle still works too. I replaced the gaskets on my drysuit, and as ugly as the result looked it was completely effective at keeping me dry. I even dug up my pogies and a thermos for hot chocolate.

At the last minute we acquired some local boaters for the first day of paddling. Probably because the flows came down to an ideal level: plenty of water to cover the rocks without being pushy. They even arranged a shuttle rig from some local rafting company which saved us time and money. And as if to confirm a divine blessing on the trip the day turned out to be sunny and warm. All good, right?

Then why did I feel so nervous? Putting on I had a few butterflies in my stomach. The first several rapids were class III or easier, but each horizon line had me wondering if I was really prepared and all-to-ready to let someone else lead the way. When we got to the first big rapid which required a scout the group ahead of us was busy recovering from a piton that lead to a swim. I got out of my boat to take a look and the butterflies had grown into condors flying circles in my gut. The rapid looked fine - solid class IV, but with an easy sneak route and several other options well within my abilities, even if my boat control was a pale imitation of my past grace and skill.

I looked at the rapid for a long time. Too long. Even watching the others go down the middle and cruise through without problem didn't quell my anxiety. I chose to run the sneak and it was as easy as it looked. I hadn't really paddled anything hard, certainly hadn't executed any diffucult move, but somehow having avoided the disaster my mind had created totally changed my outlook. I breathed deeper and started to trust that I really was a whitewater kayaker and not some impostor who didn't belong.

With eight miles left to go, I slowly loosened up. My strokes became more fluid. My boat more responsive. When I dropped into one of the harder rapids without any beta or anyone to follow I simply dodged a few holes and powered through the last drop without the slightest hesitation. I wasn't exactly the graceful paddler I used to be in my memory, and I wouldn't say I was strong and carefree. But I could handle it. I knew I'd be fine. And I was. I enjoyed the beautiful scenery: waterfalls coming in every hundred yards, carnivorous plants lining the shores, and even some caves to paddle into in a pristine wilderness. That's what paddling is supposed to be about.

The day ended with the locals heading home and me and my mate camping out under clouding skies and a decision on what to paddle the next day. We checked out a stretch of the Middle Fork that was lower and easier. Nah. Too easy. Too roadside. We checked out a stretch of the South Fork Smith that was higher and harder. No go. I felt more confident but not stupid. Two rusty paddlers didn't make for a good exploratory team. We decided to run the North Fork again. Maybe be able to enjoy it right from the start this time with the confidence of knowing everything goes. We could handle it.

But we didn't have to handle it on our own. We hooked up with another crew from Oregon, who knew the river well and gave us strength in numbers. Maybe we didn't need the support, but another part of paddling the river is meeting other members of the tribe and sharing some camaraderie and maybe even a takeout beer. I let them lead the way most of the time. I still ran the sneak on the hard rapid. I had come of the couch not to restart my career but to enjoy a weekend, and as the weekend wound down with each short rapid in the final miles I knew I didn't need to improve or test myself any further. I paddled some Class IV whitewater, but I was a pale shadow of my former self when it came to skills and abilities. But I was as happy as ever. I enjoyed myself immensely even knowing it  be another year or several before I ever get back out on such a river. That was the real goal and the mission was accomplished.

Kayak Meme Machine 4

Once again, this is to collect some of the memes I've created and shared in other places. You can see more in post 1, post 2, and post 3. Here are the latest:

This is the inimitable Sean Morely in one of the first production versions of the Jackson Kayak Karma RG. He came up to the Mendocino area with a few of the Jackson folks to shoot a promo video. I tagged along to get a few shots of my own - and to try out the boat. Very fun design, but a bit bouncy on big waves.

This photo goes back to before this blog started: 2004, Ecuador. A really fun trip with a lot of cool guys. They didn't really like us riding on top of the bus, but it was crowded and they let us get away with it until we got back into town. Kind of cool that you can use public transportation for shuttle.

And here is my lovely wife demonstrating how to have fun while kayaking: smile and kayak. That's all there is to it.

Kayak Meme Machine 3

Here's a few more of my memes. You can check out the earlier ones at the first post and post two.

This picture was taken on a trip to the Okisollo Wave off Quadra Island in British Columbia. You could sit on the wave all day if you wanted. When we got tired of waiting our turn, we'd drop in and join our friends. Three was a tight fit that never lasted long, but two people could hang out for a while. It looks so mellow, and felt mellow, but the current was eight knots and down in the pocket you were below sea level so it had an eery quality of speed to it. Read more about it in this post.

This one's from Featherfest - the biggest whitewater festival in California on the North Fork of the Feather River. The class V Tobin section is only a mile long and roadside the whole way. Makes for quick laps, easy pictures, and lots of boofs :)

I love this shot I got of a little kid checking out the strange kayakers before we launched off Dillon Beach at the mouth of Tomales Bay (a write-up from the day here). He seemed so happy to check out our kayaks and not at all afraid of a fully geared up kayakers. Hopefully the memory will sit in his subconscious and we'll have a future kayaker a decade from now.

Legend in My Own Mind

We all have egos. Kayakers may be a welcoming bunch, always ready to welcome a new member to the club or show a stranger the line on a rapid. We rib each other over our gaffes, celebrate our swims with a bootie beer, and gather together in some of the most unflattering clothing the world can design. But underneath it all we have a little pride. We want to do well and be known for doing it. I am no different.

My last post was about the love I felt at the Paddle Golden Gate symposium, but one of the best feel-good moments came a bit later. It came from one of my students, an older gentleman who used to paddle whitewater but found himself in a long boat as he slowed down. He brought great enthusiasm to the class and was happy to talk to another river guy. After the event he searched out my book and sent me a quick email relating to one of the stories inside.

Several years ago he found himself in Pasadena, standing next to the Arroyo Seco. He wondered if it might be kayak-able and asked a local friend. He was told it rarely ran, but it had been done in the past. Some locals had done it a few years earlier and apparently had to hike out in the dark, only to find their shuttle vehicle locked inside the parking lot at JPL. But they had kayaked it.

That's chapter 12 in A Paddler's Journey. My first introduction to creeking in California and still one of my fondest memories. Yes, we hiked out in the dark the first day. And our car was locked in. but we built a ramp out of stones to drive out. My buddies were covered with poison oak and we all had blisters the size of softballs on our feet. We came back the following week to hike in and finish the paddle out. Total success.

It's nice to be remembered for what you did, especially if you had fun doing it. I'm glad some of my stories exist in the world even if I'm not there to speak them. Here's what I said about that trip in the book:

When I think of the fun moments that paddling has brought me, the incredible views and exotic locations, one of the first images to spring forth is Andreas and Paul standing arm in arm posing atop a ridge overlooking the lights of a city of ten million people. The closeness and camaraderie we found on the Arroyo Seco is something you don’t get from the picnic grounds or a short hike to the falls. It sets us apart from those who never leave their concrete environment; it makes the hardship and struggle more than worth the effort. I overcame my fear and doubt and re-found myself through kayaking, and nothing would take that away again. 

Thanks, Bix, for making me feel important if only in a little way.

Cold Water Vertigo

In a couple of weeks I'll be teaching at Paddle Golden Gate (renamed from the Golden Gate Sea Kayak Symposium). One of my courses will be on combat rolling, so as I was working on my syllabus I figured it would probably be a good thing to get in some rolling practice of my own. I've haven't been paddling that much lately and when I've gone out it's been for fun, not work. And just like any long-time paddler, us instructors can get a little lazy on skill practice - when it's cold out and you don't have to flip over, why bother? So I hadn't done much rolling, especially not in cold water. Time to make up for my laziness.

I went out on the river - the surf was big and nasty - and planned to get in some quick rolls and head back home for some housework and then a hike (getting in shape for a backpacking trip - there's always something to get back in shape for). I wore my drysuit, put on a nice neoprene skull cap under my helmet, even had my pogies on. The weather was mid-50's (this is California, after all) and the water was several degrees colder than that. Not the most frigid conditions for paddling, but cold nonetheless.

I paddled upriver a ways to warm and felt quite toasty before I started some bracing to loosen up and get my face wet. The cold water refreshed me and gave me the usual doubts - did I really need to go over? I did, so I rolled. My left side rolls felt fine. I'm right-handed and learned my right side first, but my left side has always been smoother and easier. I never try to muscle it. My right side worked but didn't feel as smooth. I was fighting it and wasn't sure exactly why it wasn't working so well. I kept rolling, mostly the right, occasionally the left. Over the course of half an ourh I probably did thirty or forty rolls, with some paddling breaks to stay warm.

While I was intent on smoothing out my technique I didn't pay enough attention to my location. I drifted a bit into the shallows and on my next roll attempt I hit the mud with my paddle (side note - diving blade angle not good). I struggled to pull the blade free of the mud and by the time it came clear I was low on air and quite discombobulated. I instinctively set up for a roll on my right side but I had no clue where the surface was and my roll failed completely. I pulled my skirt and quickly wet exited for some air.

In eighteen inches of water it should have been easy to stand, but when I tried to get to my feet I fell right back over. I held on to my boat and anchored a foot in the mud so I wouldn't drift in the mild current. The world continued to spin and after a minute I gave up on the notion of walking and crawled my boat into shore. A couple minutes of rest on solid ground returned the steadiness of the horizon and I was fine.

I've always known cold water on the inner ear could induce vertigo. It primarily happens when cold water gets in one ear and not the other - something facilitated by wearing a hood and twisting yourself upside down underwater. But I've never experienced it myself. I think it's because I don't normally spend that much time upside down. Quite disconcerting.

It wasn't a danger in my case - even though I was by myself, I was smart enough to practice in a protected place near shore. But if it had happened while out in the wild it would have been a different story. The good news about the effect is that it generally goes away once the water in the ears warms up - so even if you're floating in the swell it should subside after several minutes. But that means you have to be prepared to spend several minutes in the water; another reason to dress for immersion.

It's good to have confidence in your skills. It's good to have a combat roll that you believe will never fail. It's still necessary to have backup. It's still smart to practice and keep your experience fresh. Our bodies fail us sometimes, often in new ways we didn't expect, often through no fault of our own. Cold water vertigo seems to become more common as you age - and we're all getting older.

The solution is simple: earplugs. I've misplaced my own or I would have worn them. Not only does it limit the chance of cold water vertigo, it helps to protect the ear from surfer's ear, a much more serious and long-term problem. I'm going out to new earplugs now :)

The Kayak Meme Machine

It seems like life has been heavy lately. Not just for me, but for the world in general. Terrorist attacks, vitriolic political debates, short and dark days of winter. I thought I'd lighten things up, at least for me, but taking on a fun little project that combines a few of my favorite things: writing, photography, kayaking, even a little graphic design. And there are more collections of my Memes: post 2, post 3, post 4

I thought I'd take some of my favorite photos and turn them into memes. As near as I can tell, the requirements for a good meme are a square cropped picture, Impact font, and no limitation to facts or common sense. So I'm going to throw a bunch out and maybe they'll spread through the interwebs and bring a little light in the gloom of night. Or at least a chuckle from those who understand.

If you have any photos you'll like to contribute, just send them in. Or if you have a better caption for my pictures just let me know. Let's have a little fun with life even if we're stuck here on dry land.

A Paddler's Journey for the Holidays!

My kayaking memoir, A Paddler's Journey, has been out for a few months now and I can't tell you how great it is to hear from folks who have read and enjoyed it. When I showed up at Lumpy one of the participants searched me out to tell that her friend had read the book all the way through in one sitting and told her she had to get it. She wasn't reading quite as fast but was half-way through and loving it. A number of paddlers have expressed a little surprise that someone with my experience goes through the same issues: doubt, fear, frustration, failure. But that's kind of the point - the details may be different, the trips a little grander and rivers a littler harder, but we all really experience the same things. I think non-paddlers will get just as much out of it for the very same reasons.

So in light of the holidays, and hoping people might want to share with their non-paddling friends a little window in the world of kayaking, I'm putting the book on sale.  If you purchase it through the CreateSpace site and use the code XUW6M6ZV you'll get $3.00 off the cover price. That makes it only $9.99!

Paperback $9.99

And if you want a signed copy you can order that through my website. You can even tell me what you want on the inscription and have me mail it directly to someone special as a gift. I have limited stock on hand so first come first serve for Christmas gifts. You'll need to order by 12/15/15 in order to make sure it gets there in time. And if you order in December I'll even through in a free copy of my Paddle California DVD, highlighting some of the best kayaking our wonderful state has to offer.

Signed Paperback $15

(with free Paddle California DVD)

The digital version is temporarily only available at Amazon and at $2.99 you don't really need a sale price to afford it :)

Kindle eBook $2.99

And if you've already read the book, let me know what you thought - I love to get feedback. You can always leave a comment, or if you want to share your thoughts with the rest of the world, consider writing a quick review. (Reviews also help drive Amazon search engines, so just by leaving one you'll help other people find the book)

And for those who missed it the first time, here's the trailer if you want more info on the book itself:

5 Life Lessons Learned Through Kayaking

I've learned a lot about kayaking over the years, but just as importantly, I've learned a lot from kayaking. The river, in particular, teaches us many things about overcoming adversity, making wise decisions, and staying humble. Here are five principles I've learned  over my twenty years of whitewater kayaking that I try to apply to my life every day.

1. You have to commit if you want to improve

If you only dabble in the sport, you might find it quite enjoyable, but the path to improvement is paved with consistent effort and dedication. There are no shortcuts around time in the boat. During the spring runoff of my first season, I boated seventeen out of eighteen weekends. I paddled with people better than me and listened to what they said. I worked on skills, I did drills, I took some beatings. But by the end of the snowmelt I paddled class four consistently and never looked back. Nothing says you have to be a class V kayaker to enjoy the sport, but there is a steep learning curve to get to a basic level of competency, and if you don't get there chances are you won't keep kayaking for long.

There are a lot of different things you can do with your life, but if you don't put much effort into any single area, you most likely won't get very far. We get more out of long-term relationships than transitory ones. We learn more, contribute more, and generally make more money and find success when we commit to a career path. You can change and adapt, maybe even start over in something completely new, but at the start you need to give it everything you've got if you want to get the most out of it. Life requires more than dabbling.

2. If you mess up, you can't just quit

Everyone gets off line once in a while. You miss your boof, you misjudge the current, you get flipped over. In the middle of a rapid you can't simply stop and get off. You roll up. If that doesn't work, you try again. You quickly take stock of the situation you're in now and come up with a plan to get back to where you wanted to be, or you find a new path to the bottom.The river doesn't quit so neither can you.

No one's life goes perfectly according to plan. We lose jobs, we say the wrong things at the wrong time, we make bad choices and suffer bad luck. But complaining about it doesn't get you anywhere. Neither does beating yourself up. The way to get ahead is to look forward and figure out how to go there, to make the best of whatever situation you've landed in. You keep fighting. And bonus points if you can learn not to mess up the same way again in the future.

3. Everyone is on their own path; enjoy yours

Expedition kayakers have more air miles but they don't have more fun. Slalom kayakers have more skills but they don't get the best scenery. Playboaters learn to enjoy themselves without going anywhere. There are lots of different ways to kayak the river and each one is as valid as the others. Some people paddle class V in their first season; some stop at class III for their entire career. We all end up around the campfire at the end of the day swapping stories and sharing laughter.

Success is such a vague word, but so many people want to define it explicitly. Even worse, they let others define it for them. Chasing someone else's goal is never going to provide satisfaction. If you take a little time to decide what's important to you, what you want to get out of life, it becomes much easier to see the path to get there. Don't be jealous of someone ahead of you - they might be headed in the other direction. Don't worry if someone walks faster - they might have farther to go. Stop comparing yourself to others and you'll not only find more joy in your own successes but you'll be better at helping others achieve theirs.

4. The opportunities you skip are what you regret

Some rivers only run in big rains. Some require permits that are hard to get. Still others cost a lot of money and time. They're always worth it.When we look back on our paddling careers we remember the once-in-a-lifetime dam spill, not the day of work we skipped to go paddling. Eventually we make enough money that we don't even notice what we spent on that Grand Canyon trip. The more stories we have to tell, the more time we've spent with our paddling buddies, the bigger our smiles. What we regret is the river we never ran.

Life is about experiences, not things. Everyone knows this. Every old person says so. Yet we constantly make choices in our daily life that prioritize material goods over people and activities. We work hard now with the justification that it will lead to a better future. While it's fine to be responsible, it's good to build a nest egg and lay the groundwork for a successful life, it doesn't have to be at the expense of living in the moment. Take time off to spend with your kids. Blow the budget on a vacation to see old friends. And if you ever get a chance to go on a multi-week river trip - take it!

5. Who you go with is more important than where you go

A lot of people kayak for the excitement. Or maybe for the scenery. Or the physical challenge, the mental challenge, or just because they like water splashed in their face. But we all love the community. We make life-long friends on the river, even if we just met them at the put-in that morning. We bond faster, deeper, and more meaningfully through our shared adventures. And in the end that's what makes kayaking great. I've had just as much fun on the local class II run with good friends as I've had on remote wilderness trips. I've had bad experiences on beautiful rivers when the group cohesion fell apart. The ultimate paddling experiences start and end with people whose company you enjoy and who you willingly trust your life to.

The same is true with work. The same is true with friendship. It's easy to fall in with a random group of people and even easier to let people stay in your life who shouldn't be there. Kayaking is a crucible that grinds away the outer shell and reveals who people really are, which makes it easier to choose who you want to hang with. But we can do the same in life, we just have to look a little harder. Pay attention to what is said and left unsaid. Observe how they handle themselves in stressful situations. Trust our instincts. Most importantly, we do have the power to choose who we want to spend our time with and who is a negative influence that should be avoided. Everything we do, every trip we take or day spent behind the desk, is either lessened or uplifted who we share it with. Choose wisely.


Of course, I've learned a lot more from kayaking over the years. Too many things to fit into a simple list, and I'm sure as I continue to paddle I'll learn many more. But these are five truths I remind myself of on a daily basis. How about you? What has kayaking taught you?

River vs. Ocean Rolling Mentality

I was kayak surfing at Big River the other day, and on my paddle out I saw a big one coming and decided to turn and take it in. My takeoff was late but I managed to find the shoulder and start my run. That's when it hit me.

One of the features of that location is the near vertical cliff wall on one side of the river mouth. It often creates reflected waves that come at ninety degrees to the wave you're riding. The reflection comes down the line like a pulse of energy, and just as my ride started to crumble the pulse hit me and launched me into the air. I landed vertical, nose down, and drove deep into the building foam pile.

I tried to balance myself and even put my paddle out for support with the hope I could pop back up. My boat (a Necky Jive) is too long to loop even if I actually knew how to loop. But I thought if I could hold position my buoyancy would shoot me up and out and I'd at least be on the surface. That's when the rest of the wave collapsed.

The freight train flipped me over and drove me deep under. Now I was upside down with a pile of water on top and nothing but twisting, violent currents surrounding me. This is the spot where many ocean kayakers will wait for the wave to pass and then roll up. Here's why that's a bad thing.

While you're waiting, other waves are coming. The longer you wait to roll up the closer the next wave will be to hitting you. To fully take advantage of the lull between waves you need to be upright and paddling. It's great to be comfortable upside down, to think clearly and maintain your composure and awareness. But physically you can't accomplish anything. You're there to kayak and you do that upright. Take a lesson from river kayakers.

On the river, waves don't pass. They stick around. Holes can be even worse. It's possible you'll flush out and have a calm pool to roll up in, but you can't count on it. Being upside down is dangerous for the fact you might not go anywhere and for the fact you might go somewhere you don't want. It's essential if you're paddling hard whitewater that you roll up right away and get on with your paddling.

It's a normal progressioin in rolling on the river to wait. You get flipped in class II and there's probably a relatively calm patch of water after every feature. There aren't sticky holes. But as you move into class III, and definitely class IV, the rapids get longer, there are more features, and you can't always hang on until the flat part to roll. So you learn to roll in the mess.

Photo: Darin McQuoid

The first key point is simply the mentality. There's no thought of waiting. If you're upside down you start rolling up. Ideally you don't even worry about a set-up position. From wherever you find yourself, tucked or leaning back, however your paddle is oriented, whichever side it's on, you simply roll from there. If you can use the momentum of the water to help you all the better.

That's the goal and it takes practice - the second key point. Everyone starts out rolling in flat water so it's natural to get used to that. And it's good to practice in the pool. But get your approach away from setting up and finding the right position. Stop looking for the surface. Change your understanding of rolling from a specific sequence of motions to a general concept of using your paddle and your body to bring the boat underneath you. Practice it from every position. Practice it in the current. Throw yourself in a hole or the foam pile and practice it there. There's a reason why playboaters have the best rolls - they flip themselves over in dynamic water on purpose all the time.

This is what you do if you want to paddle difficult whitewater. It's also what you need if you want to paddle rough water in the ocean. Too many sea kayakers seem content with the wait and roll approach. Their rolls depend upon specific techniques, often ones that bring them up lying on the back deck in unstable positions. That's fine to start, but don't stop there and let it become the habit. Learn some different rolls, work on both sides, and get really comfortable being upside down. Make your goal right away to be able to roll in the chaos and come up ready for more. It may take time and practice to get there, but you'll be a better paddler and a lot safer on the open ocean.

I don't know how I rolled up from my wipeout at Big River. It was all very confusing, but I felt water pull on a paddle blade and I anchored myself on that blade and used my hips to bring my boat underneath me. I felt the air and I was up - facing backwards and still in the middle of the foam pile. One stroke in the smooth water behind the pile and I was free. I saw the next, larger wave coming and paddled to the side to avoid the hit. After making my way outside, I picked my waves a little more carefully and caught better rides without needing to roll again. That's how it should be.

13 Truths About Middle-aged Kayakers

A number of my paddling friends shared an article on Facebook the other day entitled 13 Truths About Whitewater Kayaking. It's a light-hearted article about the love for the sport and a lot of it 'rings true'. But when I really think about it, and as one of my friends pointed out, it doesn't actually hold true - not for me or most of the paddlers I know who aren't teenagers anymore. (The article is classified in '20 Somethings, Culture & Art).

So I thought I'd share my take on what I think is true about kayakers. And I'm including all kayakers, 'cause whitewater isn't the only place you'll find true paddlers who love their sport. Here are my truths and what I see on the water:

1. Kayaking is what you think about when you have a free moment.

Much of my day is spent thinking about my job. Sure, it's not as much fun as thinking about kayaking, but it's important and I derive some satisfaction when I figure out a problem or accomplish something important. I think about the future and how I'm going to pay for a mortgage. I worry about the state of our economy, the influx of money in politics, and what's on sale at the grocery store. I also spend a fair bit of time thinking about my family and friends, worrying about those going through hard times.

The truth is the most hard-core paddlers I know are very well-rounded fascinating people who lead interesting lives outside the paddling world. Talk to EJ about life and raising kids if you ever get the chance. Check out Diane Gaydos' highlight reel and consider the fact she did all that while in med school. Look at the beauty of Darin McQuoid's pictures and you'll see an artistic talent that reaches far beyond the river. If all someone ever thought about was kayaking I'd run out of interest in that conversation pretty quick.

2. You jump for joy when the next Moody's report comes out.

Let's face it, most of us are more concerned with how our 401k is doing than river flows. Even I, who writes about kayaking all the time, would generally rather read about important issues that affect my life than about kayaking. And I know from experience that most kayakers would rather go kayaking than read a magazine. My wife's an avid paddler and even she doesn't read this blog regularly (though bless your heart if you're one of those who does :). Whitewater kayakers in particular tend to be people who live in the moment and don't spend too much of their time worrying about other people having their moments.

3. When you meet another kayaker you instantly have something to talk about.

It is a great thing about kayaking that when you meet a stranger at the put-in you immediately have a topic of conversation. It does avoid the awkward party scene where you grope for any shared interest to start talking about. And you can indeed bond quite quickly on the river. But if all you know about me is my paddling you don't know me very well. I may end up trusting my life to a stranger I met an hour ago, but that doesn't make them my best friend. I do paddle with my best friends, but it's what they do for me off the water that's earned them that moniker.

4. You choose your vacation by how much time off you get and what you'll do with the kids.

I don't actually have any kids of my own, but somehow that's still the basis of how I choose my vacation: what does it mean for the family. My wife paddles so we often take kayaking vacations. But we do have to figure out what to do with the dog. We do have to work in time to visit friends, attend weddings, go see the family back home. It's a luxury to only worry about yourself and your desires, one that's good to take once in a while, but even us irresponsible adults have a lot more complexitites in life to manage.

5. You find little need to explain your passion to anyone.

Maybe when you first start kayaking you feel some need to justify your passion to those who don't understand the sport. After a while you realize that your kayaker friends already know what your passion is all about and those who don't kayak won't really understand. Much more importantly, who cares if they do? Don't get me wrong, if I think someone will appreciate learning about kayaking I'll share the stoke with them. But lots of people don't really care what I love about the sport. They have no interest in it. That's fine. They might love gardening or restoring muscle cars. Good on 'em. Let everyone have their passion and embrace the diversity in the world.

6. Kayaking is not your church.

Some kayakers go a real church on Sundays. Their religious faith is an important part of their life. I know that 'church' has become part of the kayaking vernacular, and it's appropriate for some folks, but it doesn't capture my thoughts towards the sport in any way. And it discounts the religious views of many that contains thoughts beyond a good boof or enjoyment of nature. Not every kayaker is a nature-before-all-else tree-hugger, and even those who are might not consider nature the same as religion. For some people kayaking is a sport and and hobby. That's enough.

7. You can't keep up with the slang of those darn young-uns.

I've run the gnar. I've thrown a brown-claw (though ironically). I do occasionally lapse into jargon talking with my paddling buddies. But I'm not into the 'scene'. I don't worry about keeping up with the cool kids. I kinda like talking like an adult and using words, sometimes lengthy onomatopoetic ones to convey my deep love of kayaking.

8. You don't judge others by how much kayaking they do.

OK, I married a kayaker. But I certainly didn't marry her because she's a kayaker. I married her for her outlook on the world, the kindness she shows others, the passion she brings to her job (which involves helping disadvantaged kids), and the beautiful person she is on the inside. I know a number of awesome couples who paddle together. I also see some of the strongest marriages with a partner who doesn't kayak at all.  If you limit your dating pool to paddlers you're shortchanging yourself.

9. You'd rather meet a social activist than a famous kayaker.

I've met a number of famous kayakers. Pretty much to a person they have been some of the nicest and most interesting people I've met. And pretty easy to meet - just do some kayaking and you're bound to run into them. But when I think about the famous people I'd like to meet it's the people in my field - famous writers who I'd love to learn from. Or possibly cool folks who do things like organize charity programs for mosquito nets in Africa or events to help disabled vets get back into experiencing life. Go ahead and fantasize about meeting a famous kayaker. But if you do, make sure to ask them about something other than kayaking. You'll learn a lot that way.

10. Female Kayakers.

Yes, female kayakers are pretty awesome. Females are pretty awesome. Kayakers are pretty awesome. Male kayakers are pretty awesome too. The traits that make someone a kayaker are often the traits that make an attractive human being. For me, these traits include determination and a spirit of adventure, but they also include concern for others, willingness to face self-doubt, respect for those on a different path, and an appreciation of peace and beauty. You don't have to be a bad-ass kayaker to be an amazing person.

11. Your ideal lazy day consists of sleeping in, reading the paper, doing yardwork, and watching a Pixar movie.

I make kayak movies. Lots of them. And I really enjoy some well-done kayak porn now and then. But I don't have time to watch another GoPro video of the Green. I'd rather go kayaking than watch it, but if that's not possible there are a million other things I need to get done. I would love to spend an entire day in bed doing nothing, but if I somehow found the time to do that I would read a book or watch a PBS documentary. Maybe see what this Avengers thing is all about. I'm happy to take a break from kayaking and have many other hobbies with which to fill my time.

12. You like a nice Pinot and wouldn't dare drink it out of a booty.

I kayak because I enjoy it. I enjoy many aspects of the sport, including the conversation, the setting, the camaraderie. I definitely enjoy sipping a beer around the fire while cooking dinner and reminiscing about the day's run. But don't need to be punished for swimming. I don't need to torture those who do something that we all admit is a part of the sport. I don't enjoy the thought of drinking a beer out of my wet booty and don't feel the need to do things I don't enjoy to satisfy some silly social convention. If you enjoy that tradition, carry on. If not, no worries.

13. Much Love.

There truly is much love in this sport. Kayaking brings together some great people and it's easy to get along with folks who you might not enjoy in other situations. I've bonded over a kayak trips, met my wife through kayaking, and count numerous kayaking stories as highlights in my life. But I like to think that most people have found something to be passionate about. Whether it's raising their kids, building model trains, or collecting Taylor Swift paraphernalia. Kayakers don't have a monopoly on love and I like to see the stoke in whatever form it takes 

There may have been a time where I let one thing dominate my life. Where I could commit myself to something completely and without reservation. Over time, my life has grown more complex and I keep adding new things all the time. To me, that's made it much richer and more fulfilling, and as glad as I am that kayaking is a part of my life, I'm thankful that my life is much more than kayaking.

Dig a Little Deeper

I've got a point, but it's going to take me a bit to get there.

Plastics are F-ing awesome!

I got into whitewater kayak well after plastic boats hit the scene and revolutionized the sport, but I have an appreciation for history and plenty of experience in composite sea kayaks and polo boats. Plastic kayaks are so much tougher and more durable, they hold up to abuse and allow for design innovation and mass production to serve more paddlers. They're cheaper, allowing more people to get into the sport of kayaking. They're lightweight - yeah, I know they're heavier than composite boats, but when you think about what they do and what they're expected to survive, they're remarkably light.

In the bigger picture, kayaks aren't really all that important to the world. But how about artificial limbs? Hip replacements? MRIs? Malaria mosquito nets? The way plastics have impacted the medical field and made our lives safer and better (and even just plain possible) dwarf any recreational use of the material. Little things, like blood storage bags that don't break when you drop them to lowering staph infection rates through use of disposables.

And for those interested in saving energy, using renewable sources and limiting carbon emissions: plastics make wind turbines possible, make planes and cars lighter and thus more fuel efficient, and can be used for insulation that limits the need for heating buildings with natural gas.

Mr. McGuire was right. There's a great future in plastics.

Plastics are evil!

There are some really bad aspects to plastic. The water bottles we all used to drink from contained Bisphenol A (BPA), which has been shown to affect hormone levels, increase cancer risk, and alter brain development. (And even if you've stopped using those bottles, BPA is everywhere and 90% already have it in our bodies).

Plastic microbeads are a huge problem in our waterways, eventually leading to the ocean and poisoning the entire food chain - the one we're on top of. Plastic's own virtues - its lightweight, almost indestructible nature - also lead to its dangers, breaking down to smaller sizes but never chemically changing to something benign.

We've banned plastic bags since they end up in landfills and will be there for thousands of years (even though we could very easily recycle them). Instead we use bio-degradable materials made from natural sources, like cotton or paper, which we farm or harvest, theoretically to regrow but often simply destroying the natural environment to produce.

Plastics aren't the issue.

Recently a few hundred kayakers took to the water to protest the launch of a Shell Oil platform destined for the waters off Alaska. A few days later, an oil pipeline burst off Refugio Beach outside Santa Barbara, spreading 21,000 gallons of oil into the sea. This is the area where I learned to paddle, paddling along the SoCal coast and out to the Channel Islands. But it could happen - and has happened - almost anywhere in the world, and disaster is disaster whether in your backyard or across the globe.

Oil is the main ingredient in plastic. About five percent of all the oil produced is used to make plastic. That oil is formed over thousands of years, consisting of biological agents (plants) which were made of carbon - carbon taken out of the air. Oil represents nature's caching of carbon, a cycle that removes carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and stores it safely deep beneath the surface of the earth.

But in digging up that oil we have an energy source. One that allows us to travel freely and cheaply, both halfway around the world to kayak in Antarctica, or to our local run just a couple hours up in the hills. It's made the world smaller, letting us get to know our not-so-near neighbors and move from one country to another. It's kept us warm at night and lighted the way. It's powered the electricity that transformed the very nature of society (including this wonderful internet that allows me to share my thoughts with you).

But as we all hopefully know by now, carbon in the air, in the form of carbon dioxide which is released when oil is burned or processed. affects the temperature of the planet as a whole. More plastic, more oil, more carbon dioxide, higher temperature. Higher temperatures = lots of problems.

What's the point?

The point is: it's not so simple. Those kayaktivists drove to the water in mostly gas-powered vehicles (or electric - likely generated by burning more fossil fuels and packed into a battery filled with toxic chemicals); many paddled plastic boats built from the very substance they didn't want taken from the ground. For all it's back-to-nature sentimentality, kayaking is a consumption sport, a privileged use of a limited resource that has real, negative impacts upon the world. It's a luxury.

I love to kayak and I love kayakers - hopefully that's obvious from everything I've written the past five years. The paddling community has a long tradition of supporting many worthy causes that respect the environment and our fellow man. But it's a small community and its needs are relatively unimportant for their own sake. Our hobby is part of the problem while our voices are calling for a solution. We are contradictory and hypocritical by our nature, though our hearts are in the right place and our desires pure.

Personally, I believe kayaking is a valid use of limited resources and the point of life is not to leave the planet unchanged and undisturbed, but to enjoy our time here in a responsible way that allows those who follow to do the same. I burn up carbon, heat up the environment, take short showers and recycle. I try to find my balance. But that balance is my own and I don't expect everyone to end up at the same point on the scales.

I think all paddlers - all people - need to recognize the complexity of our lives, even when we try to live simply. It's not about guilt or shaming; it's not about right vs. wrong. We all make many choices, conscious or not, and we all have goals, beliefs, and practical realities that make up our world. Each of us chooses differently, and those choices filter our reactions to each other. We all might be better of if we take a step back, consider the complexity, and even if we can't wrap our heads around it all, at least we can recognize that it's there and respect the decisions others have made. For all the talk of plastics, most of us are living in glass houses, so choose your actions accordingly.

Milestones

I'm not real big on watching numbers or touting my own accomplishments, but yesterday this blog passed 100,000 views. It's not a big number in the viral world, but that's a lot of eyeballs looking at my simple words and pictures. I took up this blog six years ago just for the fun of it, and I'm happy to report that's still the reason I write - because it's fun. It's nice to know that some people out there enjoy it as well.

In looking back over the six years and 260 posts, some things stand out. My first post turned out to be a bit prophetic, an early visit to Mendocino and the place I now call home. My most viewed post is a kayak review, though it also demonstrates why I don't do a lot of reviews on the site. My most commented on post deals with kayak repair - and I've actually updated it recently in case it's a topic you're interested in. And the post that went the most viral (at least for a day or two) seemed to connect with many of the everyday paddlers out there. Lots of highlights in there, and I'd be hard-pressed to choose a favorite. But there is one post that stands out as the epitome of why I started this blog - to relate the joy of paddling that I've found and share a personal experience that hopefully inspires others.

While I may cringe a little at the low quality of some of the video I first put up, and I know that I'd lose days and weeks if I went back to edit all the writing that really isn't up to my current standard, I'm quite proud of this little blog overall and like it all the more for not being perfect.

And though I sit alone and type away at my computer, processing photos and editing video, there is something about sharing thoughts and feeling along with the simple details that make the experiences all the richer. So thank you all for visiting. Thanks for leaving a comment and sharing your own thoughts. Thanks for adding to my tally and expressing some appreciation, whether in a simple like or some kind words around a campfire. Paddling itself is just one more activity to do. It's the people that make it special.

In that light, and continuing to try to give back to a sport that's given me so much, I'm having a little contest. The first person who can name the location of this picture (body of water) will win a free Paddle California DVD. Leave your guesses in the comments (I may be out paddling, so don't be upset if I don't respond to the winner right away :-).

The Art of Whitewater: Focus

This is the seventh in a series of posts about whitewater kayaking and some philosophy beyond the basics; ideas and concepts meant to help intermediate paddlers improve and get more out of the sport. As parts are added, these links will go live:

Part 1: Technique
Part 2: Momentum
Part 3: On or Across the Water
Part 4: Group Management
Part 5: Fear Management, Part 1
Part 6: Fear Management, Part 2
Part 7: Focus

Focus

The Theory

"Start left to right, cut hard left after the big boulder, boof the hole, and pick your way through the run-out."

OK. Little splashes. Small curler. Left stroke. Follow Bob. Bright Sunlight. Small hole - dig hard. Water in face. Straighten out. Where'd Bob go? Is that a strainer on the right? Another wave. More water. Brace. Straighten out. Boulder. THE boulder? Holes, rocks, water, sunlight, shadow. Paddle hard. Ledge. Paddle harder. Underwater. Light. Dark. Bubbles. Spinning. Tuck. Roll. Roll NOW! Air. Water. Spinning. ROLL! Air. Kayak. Leslie. Rock. Brace. Turn. Paddle Hard. Right. Left. Sunlight. Flat water. Bob. Breathe.

There's a lot going on in whitewater kayaking and it can be really hard to keep track of everything and do what you're supposed to. One of the most important survival skills is to learn to focus. But what exactly do you focus on, and how do you do it? It's not a simple answer, but one that helps differentiate those comfortable and in control on the river versus those trying to survive. You can't focus on everything, but you can't lose track of the big picture. You have to focus on the immediate and the future, the near and the far.

You have to be aware of what's right in front of you and what comes first, otherwise you'll never make it to the big scary part down the road. It's natural to think about the crux of the rapid (or the crux of the day), but you have to take care of the business at hand and that means to be aware of your immediate surroundings and each and every move you need to do to get where you want to go. When I stop in an eddy with beginners and point out where we're going next, I always end the discussion by reminding them how to do a peel out to exit. If they flip on the eddy line, any other planning is out the window. You need to pay attention to eddy lines, side currents, small holes and river waves. Know what strokes you are taking and what you'll need to take next to put yourself into the position you want to be in. Take it one step at a time.

But you also need to have the big picture in your head. If you just look at what's right in front of you, you aren't calculating for the big hole and you'll go wherever the water takes you. The other common error for beginners running a rapid (and often advanced paddlers when they're stepping up) is tunnel vision. Their paddling becomes about reacting, and the problem with that is many challenging rapids are hard because they involve multiple moves. You have to keep your head up and maintain an image of where you want to get to next and how one move leads to another, far enough in advance to put yourself in the proper position for the crux when it comes. Even the hardest rapids are a lot easier when you're in the right place.

The Practice

First things first: the immediate. The key to handling what's right in front of you without losing the big picture is to be very comfortable with what you need to do. If you're paddling your first class IV, there's a good chance the rapid starts with class III water and moves. If you're still stressed and working hard in class III, you might not be ready for class IV. So spend more time in class III. Spend time going through class III features. Let yourself get offline, take the big hole to the face, make that hard eddy without paddling hard, work it until class III is easy enough that it doesn't consume all your mental energy. Then you'll find that class IV is a whole lot easier because most of the rapid IS easy for you. You need the skills and confidence to handle what's right in front of you without too much effort. If you're paddling at your edge the whole time you will never be able to look downstream.

Part of this comfort comes with technique practice. You shouldn't need to watch your paddle in order to get in a powerful stroke. Braces should be automatic, allowing you to react physically while keeping some mental distance. Practice skills on easy water, flat water even, and they will come to you quicker when they're needed in the rough stuff. Those physical skills will help you relax and your mental state of mind is probably the most important thing to get right when pushing your limits.

Another way to help accomplish this is with scouting, particularly from shore. The more you know what's coming, the more you've already seen the whole rapid and know where the hard parts are and where it's easy, the less you'll worry about the unknown. This helps you relax a little more in the easy part, allowing you to trust that it IS easy, so you can save your energy for where it's needed.  For crucial moves, sometimes you even want to map out exactly which strokes you're going to take where (though don't get too carried away with this - paddling is dynamic and every plan goes to hell almost immediately, so be ready for plan B - or C or D or Q).

Scouting also helps you keep a mental map of where you're trying to go and what it takes to get there. That's key for the big picture. As I mentioned, plans often go awry, but you still need to avoid the big hole and be aware of key dangers like sieves and strainers. Maybe that little waves turns you when you hit it - is it OK to get pushed a little right or do you need to immediately correct and charge hard left? Know the big points and keep them in your head so you can react properly instead of instinctively.

This all requires heads up paddling. It's a concept most are taught in driver's ed: look further down the road to see what's happening instead of just watching the bumper in front of you. It takes awareness, and awareness requires a fully functioning mind. Some of this comes back to the ideas covered in dealing with fear - fear takes away deliberate thought and forces us to focus on one thing: what which we're afraid of. So before you start that big rapid of the day, take a deep breath, get a clear picture of the whole thing, and relax a little bit. This is fun - focus on that :)

Bad-assery

Photo from Kokatat's blog: Destination Torngat

I recently had the privilege of watching a screener for Ben Stookesberry's new film, Destination Torngat. If you're a whitewater kayaker you've probably seen some of Ben's films; if you're not, you should still check them out. I've seen his film-making evolve over the years and the best thing about the recent ones is that they really tell a story - a story that is about more than incredible whitewater shots. It tells about the people and the adventure and contains truths that relate to everyone in many aspects of life.

But his lates film made me think even more about the lessons of kayaking relating to life. The film centered on an expedition to a remote part of Canado to kayak a river with amazing waterfalls and difficult rapids. The paddling required phenomenal skill, but the grueling nature of the approach impressed me the most. The team hiked for hundreds of miles, carrying hundred-plus pounds of kayak and gear on their shoulders, through mosquito infected arctic tundra, up and down hills, video-ing the action all the while. It was bad-ass.

It didn't look especially fun. They looked miserable during the hikes. There were comments about being more tired than ever before and hating life and the bugs that ate them up. All for some whitewater to kayak. Don't get me wrong, the kayaking looked amazing, but I live in California and there's some pretty amazing kayaking just up the road, whatever road you end up on. I certainly haven't done a lot of the high sierra classics, but I know that they match up to anything in the world. So why spend all that time and effort, why face all that pain and agony, just to kayak some similar but slightly different rivers?

Because the pain is part of the pleasure. Most of us enjoy something a little more when we have to work for it. The effort sharpens our appetite and adds to the flavor. For most of us, this combination is best taken in moderation. We love a cold beer after a hot paddle, a ice cream sundae after an evening run, a bonus for an extra effort at work. We want to know the world rewards hard work and a sense of self-satisfaction is hard-wired by evolution. It's part of what makes us human and is a very good thing because it's the source of much that is great in the world.

For some people, this balance tips to the extreme. They constantly seek greater and greater reward through greater challenge. It's the spirit of adventure, and it puts them out in front of the crowd, where the wind is fresher and it carries a little salt - be it sea, sweat, or tears. I don't need to ask why people climb the mountain (or kayak down it) - I see it in their eyes and hear it in their voice (and it comes across very well on the screen). They're bad-ass, and I'm thankful they exist. And now I'm off to do a few push-ups before indulging in some chocolate.