TEN YEARS AS A PADDLER

Kayaking is my intimate relationship with water. I feel vulnerable and at the water's mercy. Sitting in a boat, only millimeters of carbon and fiberglass keeping me dry and protected, I am connected to the forces at play. I feel every ripple, every current and the slightest breezes. I am exposed to all elements and my inferiority is constantly being thrown at me.  For me, kayaking is a meditation of humility...Daniel Fox

We've all started our kayaking genesis for different reasons. For some, it's a fun and enjoyable low-impact activity, offering a great way to burn calories and tone those muscles. While others, like the camaraderie it builds on the water with other fellow enthusiasts. Others enjoy their escape into a stress-free world of relaxation and serenity of the peaceful lake. But for most, kayaking offers the ability to get closer to and interact with nature.

2010 Red River

Summer 2020, marks the tenth anniversary of my kayaking evolution. It has been an amazing journey. From Minnesota to California, I've paddled in some beautiful and amazing natural places over the years. I made some great friends, stayed in pretty good shape, and have enjoyed both the emotional and mental health benefits while on the water.
"It's my opinion," said Current Adventures Kayaking School & Trips' Dan Crandall, "That those who choose to get into kayaking are often subconsciously looking for that self-understanding and as their confidence builds, they become a better and happier version of themselves."

It feels almost like yesterday when I launched my first kayak ten springtimes ago. Minnesota offered clear and smooth rivers and lakes and plenty of sun dazzling days to begin my pilgrimage. June paddling meant exploring, camping, and family fun.

2011 Cuyuna Country

And the only reason, I can remember it so well is because that summer I began keeping a kayaking journal to keep track of my paddling experiences. throughout the day. Ever since I have chronicled every day in my life I have put a kayak in the water.

 June 16, 2010...It was a wonderful evening to nice to waste. We went on a short trip down the river to the First Avenue Bridge. It was the first day I kayaked in the sun for a long time.

June 16, 2011...After setting up camp we put in on Portsmouth Mine Lake. The weather is so calm today, hardly a breeze as we paddle across the lake. It's amazing. We saw ten loons all dancing, fishing, and calling to us out on the dark water. After the boys tired, I still needed more. I portaged over the highway and discover another endless line of lakes.

2012 lake Bemidji

June 16, 2012...The morning started out on the lake early off to the outlet for the Mississippi. Paddling is slow in the tandem. This boat is built for fun, not speed. I greeted a few loons couples along the way.




"When once a man is launched on such an adventure as this," wrote C. S. Lewis, He must bid farewell to hopes and fears, otherwise, death or deliverance will both come too late to save his honor and his reason."
Leaving my home of some 30 years behind in the midwest and loading up a van full of kayaks with my bride and heading to California was like going over a waterfall. But as Grand Canyon explorer John Wesley Powell said, "We have an unknown distance yet to run, an unknown river to explore... Ah, well! we may conjecture many things."
It was a homecoming of sorts, to the places I had always dreamed about being. I wanted to see natural places with tranquil clear cobalt lakes and rushing wild whitewater and mountain vistas.

2013 Lake Maria State Park, Minnesota

June 16, 2013...We enjoyed the sun on our bodies and the warm temperatures of summer. We paddled around the whole lake and even into the marsh area where it's so narrow we had trouble turning around.

2014 Folsom Lake

June 17, 2014...A peaceful night on Folsom Lake. A little breeze, but not much. Not a lot of boats, meaning not a lot of waves. Some sea kayakers were practicing rolls when Debbie and I put in at Granite Bay. Some clouds in the distance over the Sierra, but clear and bright over the lake.

2015 Negro Bar

June 19, 2015...Taylor is here this week. He flew in on Tuesday and has been having fun with us. It great to paddle with him again. We unloaded at Negro Bar and paddled up to the cable. He said the walls on the canyon remind him of Duluth when we ent there to visit. The sun was bright and there was just enough of a cooling breeze.

2016 Lake Natoma

June 16, 2016...with Current Adventures as we start our Eppies Flat Water training on Lake Natoma. Kim is good spirits as he teaches the group of five a paddling refresher course. Most have paddled before and will be all taking part in the eppies Iron Man. we worked on some paddling exercises and balance.

2017 Lake Natoma

June 16, 2017...Up the canyon and back through the slough and around the bend. That's what it's about on Lake Natoma at Negro bar. It's a party place today. One guy in a kayak was playing loud music, a group of kids was jumping off the cliffs and paddle boarders were relaxing with the flow.

"Canoes, too, are unobtrusive," writer John Graves observed, "They don't storm the natural world or ride over it, but drift in upon it as a part of its own silence."
Paddling offers outdoor enthusiasts a wide range of experience. While I will always enjoy the heart-stopping exhilaration of whitewater rapids, the rush of paddling a sea kayak on a distance trek across the bay or big lake, my roots in paddling will always be with the canoe.
Like a souvenir from my childhood memories, my time on idyllic California's Lake Jenkinson will always rekindle those feelings of nostalgia while on its waters.

2018 Lake Jenkinson

June 17, 2018...Father's Day at Sly Park. I loaded up and headed to the park to work in the boat rental boathouse. Dan and Current Adventures took it over this season and business is good. It has three canoes, seven paddleboards, and a bunch of kayaks. It's all fun stuff and one of the area's most beautiful lakes.

2019 Lake Jenkinson

June 16, 2019...Father's Day at Sly Park. It was a very pleasant day with little wind coming through the narrows. As I look back on those days in Fargo, I could never ever imagine I would be working in the Sierra foothills on a lakefront as good as this. I mean who would have ever thought back then all this would lead to me. Life is funny indeed.

June 16, 2020...John and I decided to run the river last week and kept to the plan. Meet at Rossmoor, dropped off a truck, and return to Sailor Bar for a trip downriver. It's a beautiful evening for a paddle. Not too hot, Not too cold. Just right with a mild breeze and cloudless skies.

2020 The American River Parkway

As one can see, my kayaking evolution has not been solitary. It has only progressed through the continued support of my wife, family, and friends only with the paddling community.
This ten-year span is not out of the ordinary for many who call the water home with the need to push off the shore to see what is around the next bend. As the
Chinook Blessing says, "We call upon the waters that rim the earth, horizon to horizon, that flow in our rivers and streams, that fall upon our gardens and fields, and we ask that they teach us and show us the way."

We are always looking for guest bloggers to share the stories and pictures of their adventure.

Keep up with Outside Adventure to the Max, on our Facebook page and Instagram and now on Youtube.

SOLSTICE SOLITUDE

Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families in the howling wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we experienced...You see how little nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, the companion of content, is rather found in our own breasts than in the enjoyment of external things; And I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to make a man happy in whatever state he is. This consists in a full resignation to the will of Providence; and a resigned soul finds pleasure in a path strewed with briars and thorns. ---Daniel Boone

Legendary early American trailblazer and famous woodsmen Daniel Boone was constantly exposed to daily dangers and perils of frontier life. Survival meant living off the land and evading Indian attacks. He would often disappear into the forest for weeks and even months on long extended hunts before returning home to his family. According to author Robert Morgan, "Boone sought oneness with the wilderness as a mystic seeks union with the creator or a lover yearns to merge with the beloved."

There is a story about how a hunting party heard an odd sound coming from the woods. Upon investigating, they came across Boone, lying on his back in a little clearing singing to the clouds, trees, and passing birds. Singing for joy. Singing for nature. For Boone, life in the wilderness was a sublime combination of fear and delight mostly experienced by traveling alone.

My solo kayak trips have bestowed that same familiarity for me. In the far off distant land of Minnesota, I use to strap my kayak on to the roof of an old Chevy van packed up my camping gear, some freeze-dried food along with a notebook and pen, then escape for an overnight, maybe a weekend or if I was lucky enough an extended trip lasting several days. Of course, the dangers were minimal, outside on falling off the roof of my van while unloading my boat.

I would slip off into some corner of the wilderness just around the bend from the boat ramp. Like at Lake Bronson State Park in northwest Minnesota for my first solo trip to a boat in camping site on an island. Paddling on the lake that first trip I had a great feeling of exhilaration, followed by terror coursing through my body. The dreaming and planning finally turned into a reality outside of my so-called comfort zone. Still, it wasn't long before I was feeling those mystic powers of the lake exercising my self-doubts.

"There is magic in the feel of a paddle and the movement of a canoe, a magic compounded of distance, adventure, solitude, and peace," wrote canoe guru Sigurd Olson, "The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness and of a freedom almost forgotten. It is an antidote to insecurity, the open door to waterways of ages past and a way of life with profound and abiding satisfactions. When a man is part of his canoe, he is part of all that canoes have ever known."

I brought my daughter's chocolate Labrador the next summer for a trip to Scenic State Park, near Bigfork, Minn. I had been dog watching Mazie all summer while my daughter was working at a summer camp. She was a natural water dog and enjoyed riding in my tandem kayak. I had brought her along for a few over-nights already. She would scare off any raccoons just by being in camp, kept my feet warm at night, and ate my leftovers

We paddled around the esker, a long ridge of sediment left behind by ice age separating Coon Lake and Sandwick Lake. From this point, I could see that the park lived up to its name. A group of black and white patterned loons was fishing nearby taking turns diving and disappearing into the water. The silence was then broken by one's tremolo, a wavering call of alarm announcing our presence on the lake.

Campsite #6 overlooks the Sandwick Lake. Several large pines had fallen into the lake camouflaging the site's boat entry. It was a spartan site, to say the least, equipped only with a fire ring and grill adjacent to a grassy spot to set up my tent. It would be my base-camp for that next couple of days while staying at the lake. My home away from home.

“To wake up on a gloriously bright morning," wrote American geologist and explorer Josiah Edward Spurr, while leading an expedition mapping the interior of Alaska, "In a tent pitched beneath spruce trees, and to look out lazily and sleepily for a moment from the open side of the tent, across the dead camp-fire of the night before, to the river, where the light of morning rests and perhaps some early-rising native is gliding in his birch canoe; to go to the river and freshen one's self with the cold water, and yell exultingly to the gulls and hell-divers, in the very joy of living."

"You alone?" questioned came from a group canoeists floating by my campsite on the next year's solo trip on the St. Croix River between Minnesota and Wisconsin.

"Always," I said. Which wasn't really true. I would take my kids along on lots of camping trips all the time. I loved sharing my adventures with my family, but my solo trips were special. They were my chance to get-away, to feel the joy of a vision quest and to be a modern-day Daniel Boone.

By day I would paddle around the lakes or rivers, exploring hidden coves and bays. I'd follow streams until my path was blocked by a beaver dam or stop just before the rush of some rapids and contemplate paddling on to the sea.

While at night, with the kayak beached, the tent set and campfire burning, I would enjoy some freeze dried stew with a bottle wine and watch the world come to a standstill, as the sun would either burned up in the black silhouetted pines or dissolved in a fiery glow into the lake. There I would melt into the warmth of my campfire under the stars, listening to the haunting reverberation of the loons. My thoughts of past and worries of the future would fade into the peace of the present.

"One day I undertook a tour through the country," said Boone, "And the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought."

Because being alone wilderness you can find the silence and solitude that can fill your heart and soul.

This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max June 9, 2017.

AUTUMNAL PALETTE & PADDLE

I am struck by the simplicity of light in the atmosphere in the autumn, as if the earth absorbed none, and out of this profusion of dazzling light came the autumnal tints. ---Henry David Thoreau

It was what I call a Thoreau type morning. A chill in the air, colors blazing and the lake water was as smooth as glass on a calm October morning. At the water's edge a thin line between the absoluteness of the shoreline and its upside-down illusory reflection. It seemed as I was destroying a cherished work of art as the bow of my kayak fractured the water's surface sending it into a thousand splinters with each ripple with each forward stroke. In was the distance the slight hum of traffic a reminder of frenzied away from this solitude, ahead of the quiet and nostalgic feel of autumn's embrace.

Maplewood State Park.

“A lake is a landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature." wrote American writer and conservationist Henry David Thoreau, "It is earth's eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.”
In 1845, he set out to live a simple and solitary life on the banks of Walden Pond near Concord, Mass. It was there that he would write his best-known works, Walden and Civil Disobedience in penciled scribbled notes giving meditative descriptions of the sights, sounds, smells and things around him. The woods and lakes seem to inspire and invigorate him.

Later in life, he would celebrate the seasonal change of fall and the continuing cycle of nature by welcoming it by and giving us a way to see every autumn. "Visible for miles, too fair to be believed," he proclaimed, "If such a phenomenon occurred but once, it would be handed down by tradition to posterity, and get into the mythology at last.”

Mille Lacs Kathio State Park

The appearance of autumn doesn’t call for the disappearance of kayaks or standup paddleboards. Fall and wintertime waters offer a quieter and solitude experience. Who doesn't appreciate fewer bugs, crowds and empty parking spots at the access? Just remember simple safety factors involving hypothermia. Even water temperatures as high as 75 and 80 degrees F (24 and 27 degrees C) can be dangerous, but generally the colder the water, the faster it happens.

Four simple tips for anyone looking to extend the length of their paddling season into the winter months.

1. Wear your PFD!
2. Layering up against the cold.
3. Familiarize yourself With rescue techniques
4. Be well fed and hydrated when paddling.

"October is the month of painted leaves." wrote Thoreau, "Their rich glow now flashes round the world. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight."

It all proves paddling in the fall might take a little more planning and preparation, but the season's beauty and splendor make it all worth it.

Celebrate Sixty
Our friend, Dan Crandall at Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips, a veteran of countless trips down the Grand Canyon is turning 60-years-old in 2018 and wants you to come along for the party.

Courtesy of Current Adventures.

"Dear friends and fellow paddlers," wrote Crandall on the Current Adventures website, "I wanted to extend this special invitation to join me on our 2018 trip because I will be 60 years old in 2018 and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather "Celebrate Sixty" than paddling the fabulous Grand Canyon. The people that join together for a trip like this are the ones who really make it special, so come on along to surf some great waves, run the fabulously thrilling rapids, hike some amazing trails and help make it an extraordinary experience in one of my favorite places on the planet!"

Join Crandall and his experienced guides from Current Adventures and Grand Canyon outfitter partner AZRA on August 29-September 11th, 2018 ( 14 days) as they deliver you to the unequaled splendor and solitude of one of the worlds greatest treasures.

If you want to go  
Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips 
PHONE: 530-333-9115 or Toll-Free: 888-452-9254
FAX: 530-333-1291
USPS: Current Adventures, P.O. Box 828, Lotus, CA 95651
info@currentadventures.com
owner Dan Crandall dan@kayaking.com

SOLSTICE SOLITUDE

Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families in the howling wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we experienced...You see how little nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, the companion of content, is rather found in our own breasts than in the enjoyment of external things; And I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to make a man happy in whatever state he is. This consists in a full resignation to the will of Providence; and a resigned soul finds pleasure in a path strewed with briars and thorns. ---Daniel Boone

Legendary early American trailblazer and famous woodsmen Daniel Boone was constantly exposed to daily dangers and perils of frontier life. Survival meant living off the land and evading Indian attacks. He would often disappear into the forest for weeks and even months on long extended hunts before returning home to his family. According to author Robert Morgan, "Boone sought oneness with the wilderness as a mystic seeks union with the creator or a lover yearns to merge with the beloved."

There is a story about how a hunting party heard an odd sound coming from the woods. Upon investigating, they came across Boone, lying on his back in a little clearing singing to the clouds, trees, and passing birds. Singing for joy. Singing for nature. For Boone, life in the wilderness was a sublime combination of fear and delight mostly experienced by traveling alone.

My solo kayak trips have bestowed that same familiarity for me. In the far off distant land of Minnesota, I use to strap my kayak on to the roof of an old Chevy van packed up my camping gear, some freeze-dried food along with a notebook and pen, then escape for an overnight, maybe a weekend or if I was lucky enough an extended trip lasting several days. Of course, the dangers were minimal, outside on falling off the roof of my van while unloading my boat.

I would slip off into some corner of the wilderness just around the bend from the boat ramp. Like at Lake Bronson State Park in northwest Minnesota for my first solo trip to a boat in camping site on an island. Paddling on the lake that first trip I had a great feeling of exhilaration, followed by terror coursing through my body. The dreaming and planning finally turned into a reality outside of my so-called comfort zone. Still, it wasn't long before I was feeling those mystic powers of the lake exercising my self-doubts.

"There is magic in the feel of a paddle and the movement of a canoe, a magic compounded of distance, adventure, solitude, and peace," wrote canoe guru Sigurd Olson, "The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness and of a freedom almost forgotten. It is an antidote to insecurity, the open door to waterways of ages past and a way of life with profound and abiding satisfactions. When a man is part of his canoe, he is part of all that canoes have ever known."

I brought my daughter's chocolate Labrador the next summer for a trip to Scenic State Park, near Bigfork, Minn. I had been dog watching Mazie all summer while my daughter was working at a summer camp. She was a natural water dog and enjoyed riding in my tandem kayak. I had brought her along for a few over-nights already. She would scare off any raccoons just by being in camp, kept my feet warm at night, and ate my leftovers

We paddled around the esker, a long ridge of sediment left behind by ice age separating Coon Lake and Sandwick Lake. From this point, I could see that the park lived up to its name. A group of black and white patterned loons was fishing nearby taking turns diving and disappearing into the water. The silence was then broken by one's tremolo, a wavering call of alarm announcing our presence on the lake.

Campsite #6 overlooks the Sandwick Lake. Several large pines had fallen into the lake camouflaging the site's boat entry. It was a spartan site, to say the least, equipped only with a fire ring and grill adjacent to a grassy spot to set up my tent. It would be my base-camp for that next couple of days while staying at the lake. My home away from home.

“To wake up on a gloriously bright morning," wrote American geologist and explorer Josiah Edward Spurr, while leading an expedition mapping the interior of Alaska, "In a tent pitched beneath spruce trees, and to look out lazily and sleepily for a moment from the open side of the tent, across the dead camp-fire of the night before, to the river, where the light of morning rests and perhaps some early-rising native is gliding in his birch canoe; to go to the river and freshen one's self with the cold water, and yell exultingly to the gulls and hell-divers, in the very joy of living."

"You alone?" questioned came from a group canoeists floating by my campsite on the next year's solo trip on the St. Croix River between Minnesota and Wisconsin.

"Always," I said. Which wasn't really true. I would take my kids along on lots of camping trips all the time. I loved sharing my adventures with my family, but my solo trips were special. They were my chance to get-away, to feel the joy of a vision quest and to be a modern-day Daniel Boone.

By day I would paddle around the lakes or rivers, exploring hidden coves and bays. I'd follow streams until my path was blocked by a beaver dam or stop just before the rush of some rapids and contemplate paddling on to the sea.

While at night, with the kayak beached, the tent set and campfire burning, I would enjoy some freeze dried stew with a bottle wine and watch the world come to a standstill, as the sun would either burned up in the black silhouetted pines or dissolved in a fiery glow into the lake. There I would melt into the warmth of my campfire under the stars, listening to the haunting reverberation of the loons. My thoughts of past and worries of the future would fade into the peace of the present.

"One day I undertook a tour through the country," said Boone, "And the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought."

Because being alone wilderness you can find the silence and solitude that can fill your heart and soul.

ST. CROIX DAYS

July 25, 2011...Nothing is better than sitting alongside the banks of the St. Croix River in Interstate State Park just south of Taylor Falls. The area is as beautiful as ever with a wall of rock shooting as high as fifty feet. I share the river with touring paddle boats and daring cliff divers. The water is the color of root beer.---River Journals

When I lived in Fargo, N.D, I always looked forward to this time year. Summer for me, and still is now, a time escape into the wilderness. Back then I would take extended paddling and camping trips into Minnesota. Like a modern-day voyager, I'd set off to find the most scenic waterway I could find,   unload my kayak and paddle its pristine waters.  Some of my most memorable days were spent traveling both up and down the St. Croix River.

The St. Croix River is a paddling jewel of the Northwoods as it runs south dividing both Minnesota and Wisconsin as its border. In 1968, the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway, which includes its major tributary the Namekagon, was established as one of the original eight rivers under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act.
 "An unspoiled river is a very rare thing in this Nation today." said President Lyndon Johnson upon signing the Wild & Scenic Rivers Act,  "Their flow and vitality have been harnessed by dams and too often they have been turned into open sewers by communities and by industries. It makes us all very fearful that all rivers will go this way unless somebody acts now to try to balance our river development."
Ever since the riverway has offered outdoor enthusiasts a chance to enjoy a wilderness experience and a variety of other outdoor recreation opportunities within an easy reach from a major metropolitan area. The upper part of the rivers has challenging Class I-II rapids for canoeists and kayakers, while the lower section of the river is popular for all recreational enthusiasts, who enjoy canoeing, boating, fishing, rock climbing and hiking along its scenic shores. State parks and forests line the border river providing an endless array of camping sites.

July 26, 2011...We were accompanied by the river tour boat for the first couple of miles, explored a rocky island and saw a large rattlesnake there. The river is wide and the weather was clear. 

In one of our first trip on the St. Croix, my son Cole and I kayaked the 14-miles from Interstate Park to the landing at William O'Brien State Park. We shared the scenic beauty of the famous Dalles of the St. Croix with historic looking paddle boats the Taylors Falls Queen and the Taylors Falls Princess.
The towering cliffs are made of basalt from the ancient lava flows. Looking closely at these formations, one can see layers of tiny, empty, bubble-like spaces running through the cliffs. Each of these layers marks what was once the top of a lava flow. From river level to the highest rocks, seven major layers visible forming the bedrock we see today.

Escaping the gorge, we spent a memorable on the river as it widens while intertwining with islands, sandbars, channels, and backwaters. Only two bridges marked our progress along the way. One a highway bridge and another a swinging railroad bridge. After 14 miles of paddling our campsite at William O'Brien State Park was a welcome sight.

August 21, 2012...The park is battered from last year's wind storm. It doesn't look like a tree was untouched, fallen trees lay everywhere. But, the St. Croix doesn't care as it heads toward the Mississippi.  I love this river, clear challenging and filled with beauty, along with cool camping sites.

My next voyage on the St. Croix River was a solo odyssey of paddling downstream and up-stream to camping sites along the river. Being alone and without a shuttle,  I based my van at St. Croix State Park Main Landing and paddled to camping sites.   They were, for the most part, quiet waters in a remote and beautiful, heavily wooded country on both sides of the river. I floated along in  Thoreau-like-fashion reflecting on the solitude of the journey. I found Eagle Bend campsite about 6 miles downstream just before some fast water to set up my camp. To go any further, I would have to battle back through challenging rapids on the way back.  I eat, swim and sleep with the sound of rushing water breaking the silence. Over the next couple of days, I paddle and camp along the St. Croix enjoying the solitude of my adventure.

August 24, 2012...A beautiful morning for paddling the St. Croix. A smoky layer of mist covers the river before the sun breaks over it. It's almost a shame I have to leave. It is so peaceful, so relaxing.

#OPTOUTSIDE TO YOUR LOCAL PADDLING SHOP

 

#OptOutside on Black Friday, is REI's adventurous Thanksgiving marketing campaign motivating  folks to head for the great outdoors instead of the shopping mall. It has been gathering momentum since it was announced. What started as REI's declaration close all of its stores on Black Friday, the so-called busiest shopping day in the year, while still paying its 12,000 employees to take the day off and enjoy the outdoors, has prompted nearly 1 million endorsements.  More than 150 other companies, nonprofit organizations and agencies that support state and national parks have jumped on board encouraging people to spend Black Friday in nature. "The idea has struck a chord – far more than we expected," said Jerry Stritzke, REI president and CEO, in statement released from the company,  "We did this to share our passion for reconnecting with the people we love, in the outdoor places we love. But honestly we are surprised by – and very grateful for – the number of groups joining in. Clearly people are looking to do something a bit different with their time. The folks at REI just want to get out to the trails, slopes and parks with our members."

Minnesota and California's state parks were the first to jump on board the band wagon providing free admissions to the parks. Only 49 state parks, mostly near the coast in northern and central California are participating. The national parks and many other state parks systems have followed suit by offering admission free of charge. Missouri State Parks have a special offer for free camping on Black Friday. No fees will be collected for first, come first served campsites. Admission to Missouri state parks is always free.

"At a time of year when Minnesotans pause to give thanks, I am so grateful for the incredible state parks and trails we have here in Minnesota,” said Lt. Governor Tina Smith. “Visiting these parks is a great way to spend time with family and loved ones, relieve stress, and enjoy exercise in the great outdoors.” While Sarah Creachbaum, superintendent at Olympic National Park, suggested it would be a good way to start something new away from your standard holiday routine, "Thanksgiving is a time-honored American tradition, and we invite families to create new traditions."

Nevertheless, many of those same consumers choosing to OptOutside on Black Friday will be shopping online Cyber Monday. According to the Shopify website, between 2006 and 2011, online sales doubled to over 1.2 billion dollars on Cyber Monday. Shopping at home has become the norm, as consumers hope to grab online bargains.

However, Team Pyranha kayaker Pete Delosa says rather than getting your kayaking gear online, instead visit your local kayak shop for all your outfitting. "Kayaking, especially whitewater kayaking, is too small of a business for people to be ordering their stuff from one or two online super stores." said Delosa, "I think people have this perception that things are always cheaper on the Internet too which isn't always the case. Most importantly, the people who work in kayak shops are usually kayakers and if we all buy everything on the Internet that directly puts boaters in our local community out of work which means they can no longer go kayaking and our community gets smaller."
In his October blog post in River-Bum.com, he listed five reasons to stop buying your paddling gear off the Internet and how to support your local paddling shop. 

• The people who work in your local shop are part of your local river community. They paddle the same rivers you do. You might even paddle with them. By getting your gear from them you are keeping your friends employed.
• When you buy gear from your local shop you have a person to go back to if you have any problems. Let’s say you order a kayak from the Internet and you need help setting up the outfitting. Is the Internet going to help you?
• Kayaking is not just a sport. It’s a lifestyle. Hanging out in your local shop is a great way to get to know other paddlers in your area. When you’re looking for a new boat, paddle, or whatever else, talking to the other people in the store is a great way to get the scoop on what gear is working well for people and what gear people have not been so stoked on. Sure you can read reviews online but do you know who wrote them? If you talk to the staff and customers in a shop you can actually get to know a person and understand their personal experience which lends some context to the review they might give. Plus, you get the added bonus of talking face to face to a real live person. Remember when people used to do that?
• Kayak shops usually have info on upcoming events in the area. Just stopping in once in a while is an easy way to keep current on festivals, competitions, community gatherings, clean ups, etc. in your area.
• Try before you buy. Sure most companies have fit guides on their websites but I prefer to know something is going to fit before I buy it. Suppose you’re looking for a new dry suit. If you follow the size guide and order online you still run the risk of not quite having the right fit when your suit arrives. Then you have to send it back and wait even longer. Wouldn’t it be better to walk into the store, try the suit on and be able to wear it on the river the next day? What if you’re looking for a boat? Everyone wants to demo new kayaks before buying one. You can’t do that if you order your kayak from the Internet. Sure you could demo from your local shop and then order online, but do you really want that on your karma next time you head out to the river?

 "The same idea probably applies to other industries, "said Delosa, "But since I work in the paddling industry and because the paddling industry is so small already it is particularly important for us to support our local shops."

Moreover, when you shop at a small independent businesses owned by people who live locally, your dollars stay local; they're recycled right back into the community, rather than padding the profits of a large corporate chain. So while opting outside for the day, drop by and support your local paddle shop, it's most likely on the way.

OVER THE BOW: LAKE SUPERIOR

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down, Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee, The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead, When the skies of November turn gloomy--Gordon Lightfoot

It was late fall in Minnesota. Winter comes quickly there. It pushes the season of autumn out rapidly like an out-of-control locomotive. The beautiful colorful leaves one day are swept away by the rain, ice and snow on the next. Veteran paddlers of Lake Superior will tell you that when the weather turns to winter, the lake can become extremely hazardous for vessels no matter the size. A single storm on Nov. 28, 1905, damaged 29 ships calling for American novelist James Oliver Curwood to write, "It is the most dangerous piece of water in the world. Here winter falls in autumn, and until late spring, it is a region of blizzards and blinding snowstorms. The coast are harborless wildernesses with...reef and rocky headlands that jut out like knives to cuts ships into two." The alarm went out and in 1907 the US Congress appropriated $75,000 to build a lighthouse and fog signal southwest of Silver Bay, Minnesota, on the North Shore of Lake Superior.   

Split Rock Lighthouse is considered one of the most picturesque lighthouses on Lake Superior. The lighthouse long since retired by U. S. Coast Guard is now part of the Split Rock Lighthouse State Park and is operated by the Minnesota Historical Society. It has been restored to the way it appear in the late 1920s when it guarded the treacherous and rocky coastline against its 130-foot cliff perch overlooking the lake. Only once a year is the lighthouse lens re-lit in tribute to the SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank in a storm on November 10, 1975.  All 29 crew members perished in one of the Great Lakes' worst shipping disasters forty years ago this month. On the anniversary of the ship's sinking, the names of the crew are read and the beacon is lit at dusk.

Against lake, the imposing and beautiful lighthouse seems to shrink. The forests and rocks on its edges have been diminished. I have never felt so small in a kayak than on Lake Superior. The lake, powerful even when calm bounced me up and down like a float toy as I paddled around the island and bay below the lighthouse. My son Cole and I were on a late-season camping trip on the North Shore. We had brought our Wilderness Systems Tsunami 140 to experience paddling in Little Two Harbors Bay and under the lighthouse. This place has special meaning us. We had visited it several times as a family and had good memories there. Now we would have one more.

While Cole paddled out into the bay, I climbed to the top of nearby Ellingson Island across from the lighthouse's rock face wall. Cole braver than I went out further under the lighthouse. Unprotected from the windswept waters, I watch waves break over his bow. Alone in the vastness, from my viewpoint, he was only speck on the giant sea. Like, novelist, Joseph Conrad said, "The sea has never been friendly to man. At most, it has been the accomplice of human restlessness." It is like that with Lake Superior, sudden storms, very cold water and an unforgiving coastline. It's an uninviting place that seems to call for us home, even in the days before winter.
 
Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

Kids & Kayaks

We sat on the bank and the river went by. As always, it was making sounds to itself, and now it made sounds to us. It would be hard to find three men sitting side by side who knew better what a river was saying.  Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It.

This Father's Day weekend I will enjoy the company of my oldest son visiting from Omaha. We will try to fit many things into his week-long visit, including reminiscing about our previous kayak and camping trips we have enjoyed together.

The other day, my wife asked me when I had developed such a keen interest in water sports and if I had kayaked growing up.  In Nebraska, we really didn't have access to water outside the public swimming pool where I learned to swim. My dad was a hunter. He took my brother and I hunting almost every fall weekend for upland game birds and fishing only a couple of times.  He would pack up the family station wagon every summer with camping gear and take us on cross-country trips to central Nebraska, the Black Hills and even to California. He would often pick scenic state parks to visit that included a lake or river for swimming. It was those summer camp outs and hunting trips that offered my first taste of exploring the outdoors.

My junior high school offered canoes trips along the Missouri and Niobrara rivers which were my first paddling experiences. Those great trips that I took with friends and classmates planted a seed in me that would later grow into a passion.

However through college, building a career and raising a young family those canoe trips turned into someday-dreams. In Fargo where the lakes are 45 minutes away, I didn't have the time and I didn't make the time. There was always a something else to do such as a work assignment, a doctor visit or another bill to pay. The water might as well have been a million miles away.
But then something great happened. My kids transformed from babies to creatures of action and adventure.
They wanted to camp. They wanted to canoe. They wanted to explore.
My kids were attending and working at summer camps offered through Boy Scouts and Campfire. Adults were needed to supervise and insure safety. That is what I told myself, but I came because it was fun. It opened a whole new world for me that I had forgotten. I was hooked again.

Before long I was attending the camps with them and taking them along on our own family adventures. Back on the water for at least a few days a year, my enthusiasm was just beginning. A couple of years later I bought three kayaks, some PFDs and paddles. I wasn't a real live kayaker yet, but I was getting there. The next season we added some whitewater boats and a tandem kayak to the fleet. The tandem meant we did not have to leave the dog behind.

On our paddling and camping trips into Minnesota, we stayed at scenic state parks with water access. After setting up the tents and exploring the lake or river, we remembered the day's journey fondly that night by the campfire. Some of my best fatherhood memories have taken place fireside with my kids. Laughter and reminiscing circled like the smoke from the fire.

"Remember the time at camp?" Taylor, my oldest would start.

"You mean the time that kid's swimsuit was hung on the flag pole?" added Cole, my youngest while roasting marshmallows.

Along with a collection of others, I had heard that story a dozen times before. I'm sure the trees that surround the campsite have heard thousands more like it.  I listened to the telling and retelling of their tales again like it was the first time. The jumble of camper's hi jinx and mischief have turned into family fables. Taylor has a way of stretching one story to another and another providing nostalgic entertainment. I have often said there is no one better around a campfire than Taylor. Even the trip we were on would later be a story at some distant campsite to come.

The next day brought more paddling, exploring and spending time together. The trip would end too quickly with a stop for ice cream or pizza or both on the way home.
 
So on this Father's Day weekend, may all dads and their kids build classic tales of their time together along the water. Those adventures will live in their memories and will be told over and over again as long there kayaks, canoes and campfires.

Itasca, the Beginning

The morning mist of Lake Itasca.

Now that the first day of summer looms ahead of me, I drift back to where the trees are tallest, days are longest and water pours out over the rocks and starts an amazing journey to the Gulf of Mexico.
 Itasca State Park is Minnesota's oldest and most popular state park. The park was founded in 1891 to protect and commemorate the Headwaters of the Mississippi River.  The park with its geographical and historic appeal, its campgrounds, 50-miles of nature trails and peaceful lakes make it ideal for any type of north woods adventure.


It's easy to find Itasca State Park, located just north of Park Rapids, Minnesota.  But, in the days before it was mapped,  a steady stream of early explorers led many expeditions up the Mississippi to find the 'true source' of the mighty river. In 1832, Henry Rowe Schoolcraft cut his way through a thicket into a small weedy opening and saw what he would later write, "The cheering sight of a transparent body of water burst upon our view. It was Itasca Lake, the source of the Mississippi."

Lake Itasca is small by Minnesota standards with three arms reaching into the majestic northern pines. The West Arm borders the park's wilderness sanctuary.  Bear Paw campground and the Bower Trail line the eastern part of the lake. The Headwaters and most of the parks facilities, swimming beach and boat ramp are located on the northern main part of the lake. On weekends and during the summer, the crowds flock here to see the origin of the Mississippi and to take a dip or rent a canoe.

The Headwaters sign.

Everyone who's ever been there has a memory of crossing over the rocks at the Mississippi's birthplace. A line of hand-laid boulders forms a crude dam at the outlet of the lake. Every kid from Minnesota has had their picture taken here either by the sign or wading in the creek. It's a short hike from the Visitor Center and gift shop to the stream. On hot summer days, folks of all ages will kick off their shoes to wade the cool waters.

Dixon and Noel at the Headwaters.

Having camped and kayaked at Itasca State Park with my family many times, I usually picked a spot near the lake so I could enjoy the early morning and sunset paddles across the water.
Before the sun touches the water, I would carry my kayak from my campsite to the lake. The sound of loons echoing over the lake, a glowing mist hanging like a ghost over the lake, greeted me as I paddled through the reeds to open water.  Lost in the fog, I slid along the lakeshore enjoying the solitude.
Sunsets are just as tranquil on the lake. The water glistens. The sun burns orange and red before falling into the darkness over the forest. Before returning to my campfire for the night, I have often enjoyed a sunset paddle on the lake with the company of only a few fishermen.

A quiet morning along the East Arm of the lake.

Trumpeter swans of the lake.

One of the highlights of paddling the lake is seeing various wildlife. The trumpeter swans seem always aware and just out of distance, while the loons pop up from under the water looking surprised that someone is there. It's welcoming to see many bald eagles, ducks and geese around the lake, as well as deer, beaver, otters and turtles. The long and narrow eastern arm of the lake provides great opportunities for wildlife viewing.

Last day of summer, the first day of fall.

Itasca Lake was my source for serenity. I have great memories of both kayaking and camping along its shore.  In 2012, it was the place I went for my 100th paddling day of the season. Such an accomplishment needed a special place to share that milestone. Now living in California, I think of those days fondly hoping someday to journey back to the beginning.

Paddling from Here to There.

"When you wake up and discover the hurt places don't run. Sink your paddle in and ride the river. Every time. Dive in, let the river take you..." 

  That is what Charles Martin's book said in Where the River Ends, a story about a husband taking his dying wife on one last canoe trip. I read that book after my wife died in 2010.  Soon after that,  I was kayaking.
  I never kayaked much before. Sure, I took high school and church canoe trips, went camping with the Boy Scouts and went on the occasional hike, but it was limited. I was always drawn to the outdoors and the water, especially the water.
  There is healing in the water. In my grief, I found peace in touring the rivers and lakes in Minnesota. The year of her death,  I bought 3 kayaks for my family and I. We kayaked some 44 days before winter froze over the season. Up north, you trade your paddle for cross country ski poles and wait for it to warm up. It seemed like a good way to honor her memory and at the same time continue to look at new horizons.
  The next year I added three more kayaks and recorded 66 days paddling. Living in Fargo, ND at the time, I always knew there were lakes and rivers just across the border in Minnesota.  I had the interest to see what they had to offer. All in all, I visited some 15 Minnesota state parks; kayaked on 8 rivers and countless lakes including Lake Superior. The river trips included the St Croix, Rum, Kettle and a whitewater trip to Wisconsin.
  The following year I kayaked 117 days. Spring came early to Minnesota that year and by then I had the passion, strength and determination to paddle from when the ice breaks on the Otter Tail River to when it returns again in the late fall. I went up and down 11 rivers, even more, lakes and added 9 more Minnesota parks to my passport. It was a pretty remarkable year. The next year, I thought would be more of the same.
  However, I didn't even come close. Only 56 days on the water in 2013. I guess that is what happens when you get married, sell your house and 3 kayaks and move away. It was a good effort even to make that many days on the water. Goodbye Red River and Minnesota and hello California.
  I did gain a new paddle partner with my wife Debbie and a boundless frontier of new places to paddle. I live just down the street from Lake Natoma and the American River with a good view of the Sierra. The ice will never keep me off the water again. Since the first of the year, I have already been out 7 days so far. For some, that'snot many, but for me, it is a blistering pace for the year.
 I'm looking forward to more adventures on the water every time I load my boat up. Paddling is just something I need to do now. Now like air, it is something I will always need to keep me alive.

On Folsom Lake New Year's Day 2014