Once again July has rolled around, meaning dry weather and a dearth of paddling in the Northeast. Fortunately for us, the Black River in Watertown, NY, consistently runs at decent flows and has a fantastic festival to boot. The third consecutive year my group has made it to this festival, we knew what to expect. For a more detailed account of the actual river, check my previous write-up from 2009’s festival.

A new addition to this years festival was the inaugural start of the King of New York whitewater race series. Composed of four down river races (Black, Moose, Beaver, and Racquette), it’s a serious series that focuses on big water and paddling finesse. The Black race, about a 5 mile downriver race, was a show stolen by the long-boats on this predominantly flat water run. For those who didn’t make it to this one, make it to the other races. It’s bound to be a great time.

Arriving at river on July 15th around 11:30 pm, it seemed the only appropriate thing to do was to get out and surf Hole Brothers. A great time a fantastic warm-up for the next day’s surfing and river-running.

Following that was a few solid lines through Knife’s Edge (unknown paddler in the photo), an interesting experience in a long boat.

Glen Park Falls offered up a few solid lines for Gilly, Jeff, and Reid. I attempted the race line in preparation for King of New York race later in the afternoon and came up a wee bit short.

Poop-chute offered a similar issue for myself, going far too left and resulting in one of the most hideous lines I’ve had in recent memory. Apologies for the shoddy camera work, Chris Reid is a terrible cinematographer.

After a solid float through the rest of the gorge, a few hot dogs on the grill, and some relaxation I suited up again for another run in the race series. What followed was a second to last performance, arriving ahead of the topo-duo only due to a swim at Poop-chute. But hey, first in the C-1 class, so it’s all roses. Directly after the race was the annual “floateo”, a surfing competition with inflatable pool toys at hole brothers.

All in all, a fantastic weekend capped off by another excellent party thrown by the  Hudson River Rafting Company. While it might not be the largest festival in the outdoor scene, it certainly has one of the best atmospheres and the friendliest people. Big thanks to Kenny, Hudson River Rafting Company, and everyone else who made it possible.

     It’s been quite a long time since the last update. Poor Riverfunk has been ignored to the point of stagnancy, something that’s been a result of an astounding amount of work combined with a lack of adventure. Further, I was always consistently disappointed with the old design. Modifying and piecing together a design really isn’t the ideal method. So in that vein, Let me formally introduce the new design; a novel approach and a natural change in my goals for this site.

     When I first conceived this site, it was essentially trip reports to keep friends updated on my activities while providing locations and ideas for others looking to get outside. The new design encourages development of new ideas outside of the classic trip report. Here’s a quick breakdown of my vision for the new style:

- Same old classic trip reports of hiking, boating, camping, climbing, and all the fun stuff that we all love.

- Articles that showcase the current biology research I review on a daily basis for my M.Sc. program.

- Writings that reflect the state of my current research with Northeastern bats.

- Miscellaneous writings that reflect topics ranging from the history of my favorite locations to gear reviews and outfitting.

     The hope is that a broader topic base will provide the incentive to continually update and educate myself. As I get more comfortable with the format, I may invite guest authors to share their perspective. This update area will be used when I don’t have a complete article composed, but still have something to throw out there from the field or the lab. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I’ll enjoy sharing!

Dave

This is currently a number 2 placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right.This is currently a number 2 placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right.

This is currently a number 2 placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right.

This is currently a placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right. YEAAAH.

This is currently a placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right. YEAAAH.

This is currently a number 2  placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right.

This is currently a number 2  placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right.

This is currently a placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right.

This is currently a placeholder. Mostly because I haven’t gotten around to make the actual post. This will only be temporary fortunately, as I’m sure I’ll have something clever to write about sooner or later. Right? Right.

The Disadvantages? Less stable for river running, less paddle power (stroke rate, offside power), nonstandard outfitting, and a smaller community for instruction.

The Advantages? Pretty much all the disadvantages for entirely different reasons.

From my short experience attempting to venture into the C-1 realm, I’ve done it for all (dis)advantages. It creates a challenge that is above and beyond what I’ve experienced sitting on my rear. It’s less stable, creating a more challenging environment when running my usual rivers while giving hole and wave surfing a much more dynamic feel. Elevated seating with your legs beneath gives a level of torso mobility far superior to any kayak. This creates an environment where engaging an edge, a stern, or a bow, even in flat conditions, is far easier. Further, the single paddle blade requires a level of planning to use efficiently and a level of skill to paddle confidently.

Entering this environment is a drastic change, however. While resources exist for c-boaters (such as the excellent cboats.net), it can be difficult to tease out the bare theory behind it. And when it comes down to it, unless you’re buying the dagger pedestal, you’re going to be outfitting your shell from the ground up out of foam, fence post, treasures found in the dump, and maybe even some old bits and pieces. Hopefully with examples from my method, there’ll be a greater understanding of how to outfit a C-1 from the ground up.

My specifications were pretty loose when starting out:

• Lightweight
• Provide rigidity to the the hull and prevent oil canning
• Be comfortable

If only it was as easy as typing a bulleted list. But it is possible!

Just like a kayak, there needs to be 4 points of contact within your boat. In a K-1, the points of contact are the two hip pads on the seat and the knee wells. The foot block exists to keep your knees in tight. Using these 4 locations, you can apply pressure that allows you to initiate the bow, throw cartwheels, maintain an edge on a wave, or throw a hip-snap and roll. These 4 points need to be as static as possible for consistency.

Consider a new boat that has yet to be outfitted. You try to edge right, pulling on the left knee well while leaning into your right hip. There’s a gap of about an inch between the hip pad and your hip. You slide this inch, throwing your balance and either roll or return to neutral. When the boat is properly outfitted, there is consistency each and every time you edge your boat. It’s as tight as possible without being uncomfortable. This is what enables confidence in whitewater, the knowledge that you CAN reproduce a move as many times as possible.

All this translates to the C-1 as well. You’re knees need to be in the same spot each and every time you’re in the boat. They need points of attachment to enable you to exert the same lateral forces you can in a kayak. Otherwise edging, cartwheeling, and wave-wheels are next to impossible. Additionally, you need the second two attachment points at the hips. Having these attachments lower on the leg doesn’t allow the full use of your upper body weight when attempting to control the boat. The cockpit rim is generally the favored point, as it can interface with the illiac process (the top of your hip bone that you can feel). Contact with your hip bone allows an energy transfer that is immediate and generally more comfortable.

I’ve attempted several ways of attaching hip pads without drilling holes in the boat (duct tape, clamps, etc.) but have found that its impossible to have a reliable and static hip pad when it’s just some junk taped to all hell to the side of your boat. The best recommendation I’ve found is and L shaped piece of plastic (can be cut from hollow mailbox post) bolted to the top deck of your kayak and sealed with epoxy. It seems to be dry, rigid and durable. It has the added benefit of allowing the skirt band to have full contact with the cockpit rim, keeping you that much drier.

An additional method is necessary to keep your knees attached to their contact point in addition to keeping you in the saddle. I like thigh straps connected to the attachment points for the K-1 seat and the saddle itself. These generally allow you to stay in your saddle, keep your knees on the pads, and are safe enough to generally allow you to slip out if your roll fails. Using a foam “dashboard”, a shaped block that you wedge into your boat to keep your knees down, is another option. It has the advantage of being easy to escape from, but can slip and don’t offer the snug feeling of thighstraps.

The saddle itself needs to be attached to at least two points in the boat. It needs to be able to bear the stress of the thigh straps (should you use them) while sitting flush against the hull to provide rigidity. I use a composite pole that came with a deceased Jackson Super Hero and ran it through the entire assembly: the front bulkhead, the entire seat assembly, and the rear bulkhead. This keeps everything it needs to be while providing a good backbone.

My Dragorossi Fish is far lighter than the original K-1 outfitting and is way more comfortable. But thats more likely a function of Dragorossi’s outfitting being absolutely terrible. But those are the fundamentals. All it takes is some trial and error, some spray contact cement, and plenty of foam. If there’s further interest, I’d be happy to post a full how to or go further into detail.

The driver (his girlfriend) was driving and skidded into a snowbank during a classic Maine snowstorm. In a new car, that’s reason for rage. In the beater? Hilarious! How’s this relate to kayaking? Just like that old car, everyone’s got their first geriatric kayak they learned in. It’s simply too expensive to learn in the latest and greatest gear. My beater? The 1996 Wavesport Descente.

It was a banana of a boat. Literally, a banana shape. No edges for turning, completely smooth, tons of volume, a sweet blue-black-white fade. Not only was it heavy, it had improvised outfitting from some door trim and insulation foam I scavanged from our rental’s basement. But back in the 90′s, I like to think this girl rode every stream on the east coast. She was covered in gouges, had two cracks sealed with some sort of rubbery patching material. Not the prettiest, but hey, it was 40 bucks at a tag sale. It floated (mostly), and it was beautiful like an old memory.

I learned to roll in that lump of plastic, went out in my first flood conditions on the nearby Stillwater, and generally abused it. It was like the car, forgotten in the driveway during freezing cold winters and shoveled out when it was time to use it. It got hit by a few cars (mostly beaters themselves), plowed into snowbanks, and topped off with water as an accidental reflecting pool. Frogs were calling it home. But as I got more skilled and bought nicer boats, I noticed that I couldn’t neglect them like the ol’ Descente. After breaking 2 boats in about 3 runs, stories for another time, I’d occasionally go back to the Descente for the occasions that were likely to result in boat trauma.

Deep down, I thought it’d last forever.

It wasn’t meant to be. Plans were made to head up to Vermont with Gilly and hit a Northeast classic, the New Haven river. Characterized by boulder gardens and a few ledge falls, I figured it was time to bring the Descente out of retirement. I painstakingly installed the outfitting from a defunct kayak planter (a Jackson Hero) and did the best duct tape welds humanly possible. The boats were loaded up and the journey was made.

At the put-in, I got plenty of positive comments on the boat. “Man, that’s a sweet old school boat. Fast, you ought to race it.” It’s always great to get the old beater out, does something to boost a kayaker’s ego.

Gear was put on, kayaks unloaded, and after a quick walk to the water, it was on. With a quick check inside the boat, I was satisfied that my welds were holding the water back. Confidence was high. Flow was low.

Of course, about two drops into the first rapid (above), *CRUNKACRUNCH*. Initital thought? My welds aren’t holding up… hope it holds out til I can fix her up again. An instant later on the next tiny drop, *CRAAAACK*. This was repeated, over and over and over, until that lovely embrace of December water was quickly recalled and fondly felt.

I managed to finish the section, hit the riverbank, and hop out quick while laughing the whole time. The boat was about half full with water, with about 5 huge cracks to the sides and floor. I gave it a solid half hour of duct tape and plumbers torch repair, but it just wasn’t going to happen. With that, my beater was finally dead.

But man, it gave some the greatest times. It’ll make a great planter for the yard. And to top it off, someone let me finish the day in their beater, an Outlaw. Can you beat that?