Winter Paddling Fun—Not Just for the Hardy
By Bob O'Quinn
There’s a nip in the air as the leaves begin turning their brilliant fall colors. From high overhead can be heard the chatter of migrating geese and other wildfowl winging their way south along the various flyways. For many of my paddling friends, these are signs that it’s time to put away their kayaks until next spring. Some of these individuals might bring their boats out once during the cold winter months to participate in the annual New Year’s Day paddle sponsored by some of the Chicago area paddling clubs
Others will bring their boats to the indoor open-pool sessions to practice their rolling techniques and other rescue skills in a comfortable environment.
There’s another group of paddlers—small in number but growing—who consider the seasonal changes as the signal to check out that special gear we cleaned and put away last spring when the winter paddling season ended. Psychologically, this seasonal change triggers in us a greater anticipation of the many unique opportunities to experience the whimsical personalities of nature.
We don’t think of ourselves as being especially hardy, or macho, or—as my neighbor accuses me—"totally insane." Instead, we consider ourselves fortunate to have discovered how to extend our paddling season to year-round in comfort and safety. The only exception so far was two years ago when Lake Michigan was frozen over well beyond the range of my binoculars. We’ll drag our kayaks a couple of hundred yards across the rough shore ice but, realistically, any farther just isn’t smart.
Why Winter Paddling?
It’s easy to become wrapped up in the latest kayak designs, justifiably enjoying the many new and often practical innovations. Thinking of kayaking as a typical water sport to be enjoyed only during warm-weather, it’s understandable many individuals don’t associate kayaking as being a winter sport.
To me, Eskimos, kayaks, water and ice just go together. I’ve always enjoyed anything outdoors that was related to water. Since elementary school when I first read about Eskimos, I became enthralled with their ability to paddle those narrow little boats far out onto the open seas in any season of the year. Focusing more on the romantic side of that scene, I imagined myself someday developing sufficient skills to join a group of other experienced, well-equipped paddlers on year-round adventures. Like flying an airplane or scuba diving, kayaking appeared to present unique and intriguing challenges with the potential for great rewards of personal accomplishment and satisfaction. To stretch those skills beyond the warm seasons of the year added another level of challenge with even greater rewards. I had no idea of the additional bonus winter paddling would offer in discovering another side of nature’s beauty.
I have since discovered that with proper knowledge, preparation and safety precautions, winter paddling can be very enjoyable and rewarding. The unsightly concrete pier of the summer months transforms into a beautiful architecture of naturally created formations of clear and translucent ice sculptured by wind-blown waves. While there is some appreciation from the shore, nothing can compare to the lakeside.
If you enjoy wildfowl in their natural setting, winter provides a different visual smorgasbord. In the Chicago area of Lake Michigan, it’s not unusual to see a couple of snowy owls perched on top of ice formations. We have no idea why they were there or how long they would stay. Our only thought was to enjoy them, so we kept our distance in order not to intrude. For a closer look, we passed the one pair of waterproof binoculars back and forth.
On another occasion, we were treated to a flock of mergansers that landed less than 40 yards from our boats.
If there is any bravado attitude among my small group of winter paddlers, it’s in the unstated challenges among us guys at the end of the sightseeing portion of our winter outing when we decide to just have fun. We play silly games like "follow the leader…" over (and sometimes through) and around ice flows, before we begin our repertoire of parlor tricks. My friend Doug Dillon holds the record for the longest upside down paddling, covering a distance of about three kayak lengths. He simply stows his paddle on the fore deck and uses his arms to swim the kayak.
We also practice our various rolls, on-side and off-side, with and without our paddles, playing with ice flows as a paddle float or hand float. Sometimes, it’s relaxing to just lay over on an ice flow with our kayak on its side—and sometimes we get a surprise when the ice flow is thinner than we thought!
There’s no limit to the fun stuff you can try and it’s always enjoyable to see who can come up with something different. Although these may sound like a bunch of silly, useless parlor tricks and games, that’s not the case. Many are the times we have been pleasantly surprised when some of the skills we developed while playing caused an instinctive reaction that helped us avoid being knocked over by a wave. In one such instance, I was relaxed and enjoying the bouncy ride, thinking I was just outside the breaking waves. Suddenly a four-ft. wave broke over me, flipped me upside down and snatched my paddle away. Instinctively (actually out of shear panic), I slapped downward with my right hand and popped up where I found myself breathing air and clutching the lost paddle. From that, I was able to develop a gentle one-hand roll recovery from an upside down position.
The one-hand paddle roll recovery also led to my being able to lay my kayak over on its side with my upper torso floating face up which I’ve found to be a great way to relax and refresh my back muscles. I simply place the paddle parallel along the kayak’s right side, slide it away from the boat as I lean over and turn my shoulders parallel to the water facing the sky. When I want to recover, all it takes is a simple back sweep of my paddle as I lean back onto the aft deck—no hip flick or knee drive needed for this maneuver.
Safety First and Always
Winter kayak paddling in the northern climates is not a sport just for the hardy, cold-defying macho types. In fact, the most highly skilled and competent winter paddler whom I have the fortune to call my friend, Valerie Dillon, has a number of allergies and a bit of arthritis but continues as the benchmark of paddling capability. Sorry guys, I had to confess our secret and dispel the myth about the stereotypical feminine type, because I like company!
Regardless of your paddling skills, it’s a good idea to always have at least one other person along for winter paddling. More than just a good idea, I consider it a "must" that at least one of the paddlers be highly capable of taking care of himself or herself as well as other paddlers in the event of any upset.
Safety begins with the proper equipment. I cringe when a paddling club’s newsletter announces a winter outing and advises, "This is a cold-water outing so wear at least at wetsuit and bring a warm change of clothes." In the effort to attract more participants, this type of advice is an invitation to disaster. Compared to wet suits, dry suits (with about 3/8-in. fleece undergarments) are an expensive, but absolutely necessary, piece of winter paddling gear. To temp fate (hypothermia) by paddling without a properly insulated dry suit, and head, hands and feet protection in cold water is suicidal.
We all have different levels of tolerance for cold, so consider the following recommendations for winter paddling attire a basic starting point.
Feet comfort is very important to overall comfort. Sealskin socks inside neoprene booties draw moisture (sweat) away from your skin and help keep your feet warm. Another option I’ve found to work well is heavy wool socks inside my dry suit’s sewn-in Goretex socks which I slip into a cheap pair of surf-shoes—the same ones I wear during the summer months.
Head protection from the freezing water is easier. I’ve found that a neoprene hoot covering my neck and head, exposing only my face works well under the hood of my Goretex tulic. I don’t know of any head covering combinations that are totally waterproof; however my choice usually slows any incoming water long enough to warm it before reaching my ears. A not-to-smart experience taught me to also include earplugs as part of my winter gear to prevent the dangerous cold water inner ear shock that can immediately throw your orientation out of whack. If you don’t wear a tulic, any additional water restricting material should help. And, there’s nothing wrong with adding another layer, such as two neoprene hoods.
Warm hands are a must, especially if an emergency situation develops and you need nimble fingers to reinstall a loose spray skirt, tie a tow rope or climb out at the end of the outing. Neoprene gloves work fairly well, especially when paddling in 20-detree Fahrenheit temperature and you remember to dip them in the water every so often to let your body heat them up. Even better is neoprene gloves with Goretex shell mittens. My friend Doug prefers using the neoprene mittens he made because, according to him, they allow all of your fingers to share heat generated from the better blood circulation than gloves provide.
Face protection seems to be an option. I prefer wearing a diving mask that covers my eyes and nose when practicing rolls in cold water. Doug is comfortable with just a noseplug.
Safety and emergency gear stowed on deck during winter paddling 20 degrees air temperature will quickly become nothing more than inaccessible ice blobs. Even stowed and secured inside the cockpit area, bilge pumps quickly freeze up in use. Paddle floats may become frozen to paddles. Tow ropes made of cotton or other water absorbing materials will become hard, twisted and useless accessories. Neoprene and nylon spray skits will become less flexible and, likely impossible to reattach once removed.
Obviously, rescue techniques—particularly self-rescue—that worked quite well during the summer become useless in cold air temperatures. That is one of the reasons my winter paddling friends and I stay close together. It’s also one of the reasons we wear Goretex tulics which remain flexible in all temperatures. If someone has to wet exit, everyone becomes involved in emptying the boat and holding it steady while the swimmer climbs back in. We’ve done this with our low-beam Greenland kayaks in three-ft. waves and, frankly, I wouldn’t want to have to in bigger seas.
To empty a water-filled kayak, one person positions his boat perpendicular to the bow of the overturned boat, while another person positions her boat perpendicular to the stern. Working together, they roll the water-filled kayak sideways and then maintain upward pressure as they rotate it upside down above the water to empty it. Then, it’s just a matter of righting the kayak before lowering it back to the water’s surface. Rafting up beside the empty boat provides ample stability, and hand and foot holds for the swimmer to climb back in.
(safety sidebar: Winter Paddling Safety Tips)
Winter Take-Out Techniques
Before launching, you need to plan ahead for your take-out. You’ll be tired, possibly wet, and want to get it over with as quick and easily as possible so you can warm up with a cup of hot whatever. If you are able launch and take out from a calm harbor where you are assured there will be no waves to bang your kayak against the shore ice, the solution is simple with a 14-in. x 3/8-in. eyebolt, a 20-ft. piece of 3/8-in. rope with knots tied every foot or so for hand-holds, and a weight to anchor one end of the rope in the water. Instruct everyone to secure one end of a rope or line to their bow and tie the other end near the coaming where they can easily untie and grab it from the cockpit.
Option # 1 is screw the eyebolt into the shore ice at least five feet from the edge. Be sure to screw the eyebolt all the way down to its eye. Secure one end of the rope through the eyebolt and attach the other to the anchor weight before throwing it over the edge into the water. When ready to take out, everyone should raft up with one paddler next to the rope. Help steady the first paddler’s boat as he or she climbs onto the shore and away from the edge before pulling the empty kayak up
Option #2 is less graceful because waves are constantly banging against or washing over the shore ice. The safest method to prevent being pounded between your kayak and the shore ice is to simply wet exit well away from the shore ice. If he water is shallow, like most of Lake Michigan, it’s just a matter of exiting and walking your boat to shore.
Option #3 comes into play when you paddle back to the harbor or shore where you launched from a few hours ago and find what appeared to be a gentle on-shore wind has blown in ice flows too thick to plow through and too thin to walk on, blocking your take-out spot. Although the next step is a bit tricky, it’s also more scary than dangerous because you’ll need to paddle up onto the floating ice where your boat will likely tilt to one side if you have a rounded or V-shaped hull. Be prepared to brace with your paddle as you work your kayak onto the ice flow.
After enough of your kayak is on the ice that you can touch it with your hands, it’s time to break out the ice claws, ice picks or whatever you want to call. Basically, they are some type of device (ice hammer with relatively sharp, straight claw, or home-made ice-pick—do not use a regular ice-pick because they are dangerous in this situation). With a firm, quick jab, anchor the hammer or pick into the ice just enough to gain sufficient anchor to pull yourself (while in your kayak) forward toward the take-out spot. One of the easiest ways to make a kayaking ice-pick is to grind down the blade of a screwdriver so it is sharp. You’ll need two.
Winter Launching Techniques
Nothing is more fun than a 20-ft. (longer, if possible) seal launch off snow banks into the water! Although it may sound a bit daring and even scary, until you’ve tried it you can’t imagine the thrill. I did my first seal launch several years ago with the rationalization that if I dumped, I would simply load my boat and get back into my still-warm car and drive home. What a surprise when my kayak (and me) were ever-so-gently cushioned by the water as the bow penetrated a foot or so below the surface before easing back to its stable position, after the increasingly high-speed slide down the snow bank!
Several first-time winter paddlers once expressed their concern that their boats sounded as they were being torn to pieces from the seal launch and later paddling through ice pans. Inspections after our outing showed no damage, not even a scratch.
By the way, the seal launch technique prompted me to try my whitewater boat as a snow sled on a nearby hill with an open field—instead of a lake—at the bottom. Using an old paddle as a drag (rudder), I was able to maintain direction throughout the slide and went more than twice as far as any of the sleds or toboggans out there.
A full-time trade journalist, Bob has numerous outside-the-office interests including snow sculpting, realistic wood carving, reading, and—for the past seven years—paddling, designing and building his own Greenland-style kayaks of wood and fiberglass composite, using the popular stitch-and-glue technique. He is currently completing a "how-to" book that describes what he calls the most simple techniques for building a "high performance" Greenland-style sea kayak.