As much as we like to think design is progressive, it's often cyclical. As every sport is fractioned and specialized, so much is focused on what is being gained, until one day, someone stops to notice what we have lost. You get back on that old Centurion ten speed with 27 inch wheels, and realize that the flexy steel, the rolling inertia, the relaxed geometry, make for a damn fine afternoon ride. In paddling we're seeing a lot of similar trends lately, shorter sea kayaks and longer whitewater boats. In an attempt to make more playful sea kayaks designers are making boats that are just generally more useful, but what really excites me is progress in the river cruiser and whitewater creek racing kayaks. Focused so much on the river, these guys may not realize they are making the crossover kayaks of the future.
It brings me back to my own humble beginnings in the sport, when I purchased a Dagger Crossfire and a Perception Dancer for 200 apiece. Designed to run whitewater, my 18 year old self and my long suffering girlfriend loaded those things down for sea kayaking trips, extended river tours, surfing, fishing. No, they weren't the optimal craft for steep class V creeking, but they did everything else good enough for our broke college student asses to have a lot of fun together.
I'm fortunate in my job to meet a lot of different people, and recently I was chatting with a old school whitewater pioneer and an ex-olympic C1 slalom racer. Conversation ranged to the oldest fiberglass whitewater kayaks, and their polyethylene offspring, and I found myself missing the ol' Crossfire, and starting re-think my notions of skin-on-frame not being suitable for whitewater paddling. I mean, these first boats were far more fragile than a skin boat, and they charged some pretty serious water. No, you're not going to go rock bashing on a low-volume creek in a skin-on-frame, but medium volume class III with a heavyweight cloth? Why not?
It brings me back to my own humble beginnings in the sport, when I purchased a Dagger Crossfire and a Perception Dancer for 200 apiece. Designed to run whitewater, my 18 year old self and my long suffering girlfriend loaded those things down for sea kayaking trips, extended river tours, surfing, fishing. No, they weren't the optimal craft for steep class V creeking, but they did everything else good enough for our broke college student asses to have a lot of fun together.
I'm fortunate in my job to meet a lot of different people, and recently I was chatting with a old school whitewater pioneer and an ex-olympic C1 slalom racer. Conversation ranged to the oldest fiberglass whitewater kayaks, and their polyethylene offspring, and I found myself missing the ol' Crossfire, and starting re-think my notions of skin-on-frame not being suitable for whitewater paddling. I mean, these first boats were far more fragile than a skin boat, and they charged some pretty serious water. No, you're not going to go rock bashing on a low-volume creek in a skin-on-frame, but medium volume class III with a heavyweight cloth? Why not?
Lets think past whitewater though. Lets say for instance you wanted to do a weeklong ultralight self support tour on a river that was mostly flat but with a few significant drops (which describes most river trips out there). Or explore a coastline more playfully than you can in a sea kayak. Or wind your way through tight marshy passages and portage between them. Maybe you want to punch out through the surf and drop some crab traps and then snap in a surf fin and pick off a few sweet waves while you wait. Maybe you just want to go do some rolling practice and a few laps around the pond and would rather just toss your 30lb yak in the back of the pickup rather than strap a 16 foot sea kayak to the top of the car. Suddenly the compromises of a mid-length all-rounder don't feel so much like compromises at all. So me being me, 6 hours after finishing teaching for nine days, I was walking out of a kayak shop with an old friend on my shoulder, The Dagger Crossfire. I wasn't planning to copy it so much, as I just wanted the company while I started down this new, old road.
Anyone who makes art knows that inspiration can't be pushed and I've been in something of a rut for the past few years, so to feel that compulsion to design swelling inside of me again, to want to be at the shop at 7am and leave an 10pm, was such a good feeling. Creating this frame I threw out ten years of swedeform obsession and replaced it with a symmetrical balanced hull. Crazier things have worked! I also knew I wanted a lot more volume than a crossfire, so I bumped the length, width and depth up a bit, resulting in a more comfortable cockpit as well.
In two days I had a prototype finished, and in 3 I had it saran wrapped and taped up for a float test.
I instantly remembered the freedom of a boat that tracks only from your paddling motions, paddling straight at a pretty good clip, then spinning on a dime whenever I chose. It was playful, but not doggy like in a modern short whitewater boat. It was fun! I put my girlfriend in the cockpit and she instantly agreed, grinning the whole time.
Cutting off the wrap I already knew this was going to be a fun-as-heck river touring boat, and I was dying to see how it would do in surf so I could start the process of knocking out prototypes to get it right. But alas, paying work beckoned, so I left the frame as a sculpture and left the boat in my shop while I drove away to teach yet another class. There is a whitewater saying that says "we are all in between swims" Me? I'm just always in between classes.
In two days I had a prototype finished, and in 3 I had it saran wrapped and taped up for a float test.
I instantly remembered the freedom of a boat that tracks only from your paddling motions, paddling straight at a pretty good clip, then spinning on a dime whenever I chose. It was playful, but not doggy like in a modern short whitewater boat. It was fun! I put my girlfriend in the cockpit and she instantly agreed, grinning the whole time.
Cutting off the wrap I already knew this was going to be a fun-as-heck river touring boat, and I was dying to see how it would do in surf so I could start the process of knocking out prototypes to get it right. But alas, paying work beckoned, so I left the frame as a sculpture and left the boat in my shop while I drove away to teach yet another class. There is a whitewater saying that says "we are all in between swims" Me? I'm just always in between classes.
This whole time though, up here three hundred miles from my shop, the new boat just dominates my imagination. All I can think about is building the next frame, sewing a heavy duty skin on it, and throwing down on a month long tour of everything I can possibly find to paddle in the state.
No honest designer really knows where anything will lead. I scrap four design themes for every one that ends up in production, but even when things fizzle out the process is still a thrill. Heck, I got the best wave of my life in a skin-on-frame ten-foot surf boat that ultimately went nowhere. Sticking the rail on a wicked air-drop into a lurching 14 footer I was cheered on by a flotilla of shortboarders, something I'm sure has never happened to any surf kayaker before or since. Who knows, maybe in two months some river runners swirling in an eddy somewhere will be saying, "Did you see THAT?"
No honest designer really knows where anything will lead. I scrap four design themes for every one that ends up in production, but even when things fizzle out the process is still a thrill. Heck, I got the best wave of my life in a skin-on-frame ten-foot surf boat that ultimately went nowhere. Sticking the rail on a wicked air-drop into a lurching 14 footer I was cheered on by a flotilla of shortboarders, something I'm sure has never happened to any surf kayaker before or since. Who knows, maybe in two months some river runners swirling in an eddy somewhere will be saying, "Did you see THAT?"
The lovely Georgiana endures what it means to be my girlfriend. "Do I need a life jacket?" "Nope." "Are you sure?" "Yes."
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