When a newbie discovers a posse of pros on the river, he wonders if he could be that cool. A daydream in the eddy transforms the purple-helmeted rookie into a whitewater Adonis. Join kayaker Ben Marr in a world where a paddler’s wildest fantasies come true. Continue reading →
Choosing a SUP for a late-season, low-water trip down the South Fork Salmon proves a challenging, rewarding and educational experience for Duct Tape Diaries contributor Will Stauffer-Norris.
Standing hip deep in the South Fork of the Salmon River, I looked at the SUP pinned on a rock, mostly underwater, paddle missing, daylight running out.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
I’d kayaked the South Fork several times at high water, when the river is big and challenging, but I’d heard it was just a relaxed ducky trip at 1.9 feet on the gauge. I convinced my dad—a rafter, not a kayaker—that he could manage the run in his inflatable kayak. I thought about paddling a hardshell, then decided it wouldn’t be much fun at these flows. But what about a SUP?
On Saturday of Labor Day weekend, my dad and I, along with Boise friends Bill and Tony, drove from McCall over Lick Creek Pass to the put-in, where the Secesh meets the South Fork. Even in a state known for its remote wilderness rivers, the South Fork is special. Due to its challenging rapids, far fewer people float it than the Middle Fork, Main or Lower sections of the Salmon. Some estimates put the numbers at only a few hundred per year. Even on the busy holiday weekend, we were the only paddlers at the put-in. Continue reading →
Erin Clancey reports on the challenges and rewards of canoeing 518 miles down the Back River through the harsh and spectacular northern Canadian tundra.
It’s day seventeen of our trip down the Back River in the Canadian Arctic. We’ve just crossed from Garry Lake into Buliard Lake. It’s “hot”—64 degrees Fahrenheit—and calm. The bugs have really stepped it up. Even the animals can’t stand them. Wolves blink, pace and shake. Caribou run in frenzied circles. We paddle in bug jackets and face nets. It’s always harsh up here. It’s either cold or windy or buggy.
We’ve been canoeing the big lakes for six days. They just seem to go on forever with no sign of our destination or the opposite shore. And we are hungry! I can see Scott’s ribs.
How did I end up devoting my summer to canoeing down this deranged river—a river that hasn’t even cut its own channel, but that wanders instead from lake to lake through endless miles of Arctic wilderness?
Krystle Wright spends the majority of her days traveling the world as an expedition photographer. An itinerant adventure seeker, Krystle found her way to Mongolia and the Russian Far East with the Nobody’s River team last year. But no matter where she is, make no mistake: She’s an Aussie through and through, and behind that beautiful smile and sassy hair flip, lies a plethora of four-letter words just waiting to be dropped. The team calls her their Australian Super Power.
British Columbia’s Grand Canyon of the Stikine has long been a proving ground for elite kayakers. In 2014, more paddlers ran more rapids on the Stikine than ever before, marking a new progression in the sport and reshaping the BC whitewater scene. Duct Tape Diaries contributor Darin McQuoid reports.
Rok Sribar runs V-Drive on the Stikine.
Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative. ―Oscar Wilde
British Columbia, kayaking and the weather. You and me and the devil makes three.
One can’t discuss BC paddling without talking about the weather. I’d swear that river grades can go up or down a level due to weather. An exhilarating, easy V in the warm sun becomes a menacing horizon of survival in frigid temperatures. At least that’s what it feels like.
There’s no such thing as bad weather, just soft people. —Bill Bowerman
This might be the best motivational statement for paddling in BC. The farther north you go, the more unreliable the weather gets. Liquid sunshine will be experienced. The Stikine is notoriously cold. The air temperature. The glacial water. The deep canyon. This is literally the river that caused drysuits to be invented. Continue reading →
Water is a constant theme in the lives of NRS ambassadors Adam Elliott and Susan Hollingsworth Elliott. When the self-described river rats went to Hawaii last spring, they left their boats behind but found plenty of watery recreation waiting for them on Kauai.
Last March, three generations of desert river-rats spent a good chunk of March in Kauai. Susan and I joined my sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, family friends, and Dad’s girlfriend, to celebrate my Dad’s 70th birthday. Happy birthday, Dad! (Rob Elliott, “Pop-pop”, patriarch and star in Of Souls and Water, “The Elder”.)
For a small island, Kauai has a significant variety of climate and landscape. We spent our time hiking inland, along the coast, swimming with turtles, boogie-boarding and sun-bathing. To be able to do this with family and friends was a treat. However, we also made sure to budget in some extra time for just the two of us. It is no surprise that we found water everywhere; we began our three week vacation with a two day hike to possibly the wettest place on earth.
Taking a break from the relentless rain on the center of the island to check our progress toward camp. Not even five miles in and our Sea Tour jackets were fully tested and proven dry.
Tyler Bradt and his crew of merry adventurers descend the ISO river through the jungles to the sea, and a crash landing causes some excitement among the locals. That’s just how the Wizard’s Eye Expedition do.
When most people think of leopards, they think of the big cats that roam the savannas and jungles of Africa, but a rare subspecies lives in the forests and wildlands of Mongolia and the Russian Far East. These Amur leopards can run up to 9 miles per hour, leap nearly 12 inches in the air, wear sunglasses to ward off the scorching Russian sun—and have a strong affinity for skin-tight onesies and disco.
While paddling the Amur River last year, the Nobody’s River team came across two Australian biologists, Jimbo and Basur, tracking these elusive creatures…
A dozen or more glaciers in view. Doing 9 mph against a 20 mph upstream wind. Being rocked to sleep alongside a creek by boulders rolling down its bed. Rowing among icebergs. Waking to an earthquake tremor. Starting every side hike with “Who’s got the bear spray?” Making cocktails with centuries-old ice.