Helen Skelton, an English television personality for the British children’s series Blue Peter and life long outdoorswoman, recently kayaked the entire Amazon River (roughly 2,010 miles) from Nauta, Peru to Almeirim, Brazil, setting two world records for “longest solo journey by kayak and the longest distance travelled in a kayak in 24 hours by a woman.” Before the journey, she had never set foot in a kayak.
The extensive journey–to provide aid for the charity Sport Relief–was not without challenges: “[Skelton] had two injections to counteract heat exhaustion and was bitten by insects hundreds of times. She endured blisters, sores and seasickness so bad she sometimes felt like giving up. Making more than a million strokes, she went through some 150ft of medical tape to protect her hands,” reports Stephen Adams and Ben Leach of The Daily Telegraph.
In 2006 two professional kayakers–Montana’s Seth Warren and Tyler Bradt–decided to travel (and paddle) more than 21,000 miles (Alaska to Argentina) in a red Toyota firetruck (“Baby”) which was retrofitted to run on vegetable oil. The highly regarded film Oil + Waterdocumented their environmental activism and adventure.
Laurie Robinson of The Oregonian writes about the kayaking opportunities in Alaska’s Misty Fiords National Monument–nearly three million acres of Tongass National Forest in southeastern Alaska. Often referred to as the “The Yosemite of the North” for its light-colored granite walls and outcroppings, the comparisons to everyone’s favorite California National Park, however, end quickly:
“A place with granite walls reminiscent of Yosemite — if Yosemite plunged down to seawater, with sprays of fragrant cedar branches looping out over the water, and if Yosemite had grizzly bear scat dolloping the trails, and whirlpools of pink salmon at the creek mouths. If Yosemite had fleeting black wolves in a bonsai forest near mountain lakes.”
The Season | Episode 2: “Boater” Paul Kuthe sets to redefine the the sport of sea kayaking while exploring the Butze Rapids in northern British Columbia.
“It’s about being on the water with friends, and it doesn’t matter what craft you’re in and what genre of the sport you take after, or what you’re trying to push or change, we’re all just boaters…”
Michael J. Ybarra of the Wall Street Journal writes about sea kayaking the fjords of Chile’s Pumalín Park–a private nature reserve in the Reñihué Valley of the Palena Province, created by the U.S. environmental foundation The Conservation Land Trust–and the wind and rain doggedly tracking his every paddle stroke.
“From the moment we waded into the sea and squeezed into our boats in a light rain near the town of Hornopirén, water defined our existence. We paddled down the wide Comau Fjord, running north to south, mostly sheltered from the Pacific Ocean to the west by islands. Steep lush-green foliage rose from the shore high into the slate sky. The dorsal fins of dolphins sliced the sea. Occasionally the sky cleared enough for views of several snow-topped volcanoes towering in the distance.”
Cahall describes the series long documentary this way: “A veteran climber invents a new piece of gear. A pro snowboarder searches for a way to return to the roots of his sport. A boulderer returns from a series of injuries with new perspective. A family man goes to Whistler to test himself against mountain biking’s elite. A young sea kayaker with a troubled past sets out to reinvent his sport.”
Episode 1: “A season is a collection of a thousand tiny handholds, paddle strokes, heartbeats, and gear shifts…”
Kayaking the hypothermic, November waters of coastal Maine all makes sense until an unexpected storm appears…
With expert storytelling writerEllen Ruppel Shell of the The New York Times recounts her nearly disastrousSaturday morning trek and the colorful, local lobstermen to which she owes an enduring personal debt:
“A skiff was off in the distance, with what looked like a grizzled figurehead standing watch in the bow. As it approached, the figurehead lighted up a smoke and then, suddenly, was upon us — reaching down to pull me up and out of the waves, while Marty clawed up into the hull. The skiff rode low in the water with our weight and that of five grown men. They wore camouflage garb.”