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?

Located in western Maine in a sleepy area known as The Forks, it’s a nice secluded area. Odds are you’ll see a moose either on the road or while you’re hiking. The first thing you’ll notice though is the staggering amount of rafting companies you’ll pass. Camping, cabins, hot tubs, and parties are generally the signs of the summer release schedule. And you might just notice the amazing amount of rafting companies that are entrenched in the area. It’s a pretty great community, and I implore you to stop at Marshall’s for a tall, tasty, and cold PBR pounder.

Enough about the merits of the town though. The dam above is where the good stuff gets pumped out. Additionally, it’s also home to one of the most amazing projects that has ever been devised (and supposedly paid for by Homeland Security) to move rafters and boaters to the river.

Behold the magic of the largest recreational stairway to the bottom of a gorge in the Northeast. It’s a pretty amazing marvel, and if you’ve ever been rafting here, you know that it’s a gift from heaven when there’s 50 other rafts trying to get down the stairs…. so…. incredibly…. slowly. But with a kayak, man, you can skip the whole line and get down there faster than Mark Sanchez and can eat a hotdog on the sidelines. Generally the release will be anywhere from 4500 CFS to 8000 CFS during releases in the summer. Generally the best place to glean that information is the rafting companies, such as New England Outdoor Center.

The first memorable rapid you’ll come to is dubbed “Big Mama and the Three Sisters”. Big Mama is a monsterous wave, the site of many kayaks becoming UFO’s from the amount of air they get (har har). Following that is a slightly smaller wave train, the Three Sisters. It’s really one of the best hits on the river, so make sure you enjoy it. Important to note is that there is a pretty dangerous spot, Goodbye Hole, on river right shortly after, so make sure you slowly make it left. There’s more than enough time to make the move, but it’s still one of the two spots in the gorge you’d like to miss. No photo for this lady, no good spots to get out. You’re just gonna have to imagine it.

After you head through what’s dubbed as “The Alleyway”, a nice constriction of the gorge that offers up some big waves and pulsing waters, you’ll get to Z-turn (right). This is basically the only play on the river, so enjoy it while you’re there. It’s a great place to stretch, catch the wave, do some front surfing, and take in the scenery. There’s a really great view of a little creek right across.

Just a note though: It seems to get a whole lot better as the release gets higher. The lowest I’ve ran it (and that the photo is taken at) is 4500 CFS. While it’s still fun, it’s difficult to stay on the wave and really doesn’t offer much in the way of dynamic fun. Still a great time however.

After your little break at Z-turn, you’ll run into the best hit on the river: Magic Falls and Maytag. Magic falls is the usual line, a straight shot into a river left foam pile that spit you out upside down more often than not. If you’re feeling good, go for the hero eddy immediately after on river left. If you get the opportunity, hop out and get a good view of the whole rapid. It offers up some nice scenery.

Magic falls (Foamy wave pile in the bottom left)

It’s really a great hit. The videos of Craig and I hitting it (not too smoothly I might add) give you a pretty good idea of what it’s like at 4500 CFS. I advise everyone to make sure they hop out and hike it once or twice. It’s really worth it. This rapid is also the site of the other major hole that you would prefer not to go into. Maytag, located slightly downriver in the middle, is just a nasty keeper hole until you get up to 8000 CFS. Not really advisable to try to hero this unless there’s a lot of water and you’ve taken a look at it. You can almost make it out in the middle of the photo below:

Dead center you can make out Maytag. If you’re running Magic, it’s pretty tough to get anywhere near it, so it’s not too big of a worry. Definitely worth getting out of your boat to take a look at. As was said, at the 8000 CFS release it’s runnable and probably super fun to punch through.

And Magic pretty much marks the end of the run. When the water is running fast, the whole thing can be over in the blink of an eye. Which means you’ll definitely want to run it again. And again. And maybe again. Three runs in the four hour release window is very doable. Look how fun it looks on the left. Craig is peeling out in a sweet little wave train. wouldn’t you want to do that again?

But sadly, you do need to get out of your boat, and you’ll come to a nice and steep stairway at Carry Brook on river left that has a parking lot for the shuttle. All in all, make sure that you get to experience the Kennebec once. Better yet, go for a weekend for a Dead River release AND a Kennebec release. You won’t be disappointed.

A big thanks to the (very concerned) shuttle bunny Mackenzie. She’s a DOLL. Craig is looking a little backed up though.