Writing about sea-kayaking: rough waters, indeed

Bruce Kirkby paddles in Scorsbysund, off the east coast of Greenland.Christine Pitkanen

My weekend story (a tongue-in-cheek account of almost sinking a kayak on the first day of a planned three-week journey) elicited substantial concern from readers, many of whom charged that I appeared flippant and unprepared for the risks that come with such an undertaking.

In my eagerness to relate the uncanny appearance of a baseball cap (and the message across its brim – Your Village Called, Their Idiot is Missing), I failed to address my extensive background in sea kayaking, or catalogue any of the mundane but critical decisions I made in preparation for the journey.

This was not my first experience paddling in the ocean, or in exposed outer waters. Since 1991, I have amassed more than 1,000 days of sea-kayaking experience, including challenging journeys on Greenland's East Coast (40 days) and a complete traverse of Borneo's north coast (60 days). I have travelled waters similar to those I was entering on the Canadian West Coast, from Haida Gwaii to the Hakai to Kyuquot to Clayquot.

I prepared rigorously for the journey, placing safety ahead of every other consideration. I paddled in a Gore-Tex dry suit, carried the most recent marine radio (with the highest transmission wattage permissible) along with flares and a SPOT satellite messenger. I also spoke at length with paddlers who had travelled the route, discussing strategies for navigating all the difficult portions.

The most audacious decision I made was to travel in a sit-on-top boat. But before writing off such craft, as many readers did, I would point out that extraordinary sit-on-top expedition kayaks are built. Each summer, a dedicated crew of aficionados paddles sit-on-top kayaks on the exact route I was planning. While flying under the mainstream kayaking radar, these are not the joke boats found at Mexican resorts.

I began my search for such a boat months before the journey, but a convergence of modern-world-foibles (lost shipments, cancelled credit cards, disappearing e-mails) meant that my boat didn't arrive until the evening before my departure, which gave me two choices: tentatively stick my toes in the water, testing the boat carefully as I went, or cancel the journey until another year. I decided to go for it, and was turned back quickly. Lesson learned.

As one who continually preaches prudence and caution in outdoor endeavours, if my story appeared to promote a devil-may-care attitude, it failed: The most important part of any wilderness journey is coming back home.

Sea kayaking is not just a realm of huge waves, high danger and daring experts. It is a lovely and relaxing way to experience the splendour of our planet, and with the right instruction and supervision, everyone from youngsters to retirees, non-swimmers to elite athletes can enjoy paddling. Boats today are comfortable and stable; paddling doesn't require enormous fitness or strength, and it is not a complicated skill to pick up. Like anything else, get instruction, be cautious, leave yourself a way out. But please, don't for a second consider that sea kayaking may be beyond you.

Before you venture onto the sea, remember these points:

Sea kayaking – like any outdoor venture – can be dangerous and should never be taken lightly. Skills need to be accumulated gradually, under the watchful eye of a mentor, friend or guided course.

Different regions on the coast (and the Canadian lake system) carry different dangers, and the arena we choose to paddle in must be carefully matched to our skills and experience.