That time I bought a sea kayak

It's time I told the story of how I came to acquire my new kayak. I've had dreams of kayak adventures for a number of years. The essential idea is that - instead of a day paddling on a lake or river - that I make it a multi-day operation. It'd be like backpacking, except with a kayak. And if you spend more time paddling, then you don't necessarily need to be bound by the coast, and island hopping on larger lakes or at sea comes within reach. In college, I was interested in kayaking the pacific coast. Now that I'm in Wisconsin, my immediate goals are a lot smaller, but still quite enjoyable. Specifically, I've mentioned plans to kayak the Apostle Islands, Isle Royale, Pictured Rocks, and the Washington Island route. This summer, I intend to make at least some of those dreams a reality.

Now, I own a kayak. It's a stable, flat-bottomed kayak meant for protected waters like lakes and calm rivers. But when faced with bigger waves, higher winds, and stronger currents, it meets its match. It was time to buy a sea kayak. The big differences between sea kayaks and 'normal' kayaks is that sea kayaks have bulkheads (meant for keeping certain sections buoyant and dry), a skeg (which is like an adjustable fin that drops down beneath the kayak which can help it maintain a course), extra length (which helps with speed and tracking), and a different hull shape (a rounded-V rather than a flat bottom which allows you to lean into waves). Sea kayaks often also feature a skirt (to prevent water from getting you super wet), a compass (to follow a heading), and cargo ports (which you can pack with gear).

There are two types of materials commonly used in sea kayaks: polyethylene, and composite (typically fiberglass). The main advantage of composite kayaks is that they are lighter, but this comes at a tremendous cost increase (typically about 2x of the polyethylene ones). The minimum you'll typically pay for a new composite kayak is $3500, but I've seen ones as high as $6k. Polyethylene, on the other hand, is sturdier/less fragile, and you can often find decent sea kayaks in the $1250 - $2000 range. While the lower weight of the composite ones are nice, it doesn't make much of a difference, and they were all well out of my price range. I did some research on where to buy kayaks in the Madison area, and quickly found that big-box sports retailers simply don't have the right kind of kayaks. I checked craigslist, and found a few composite kayaks that were either questionable or way out of my price range. It's also really important to be able to demo the kayaks to make sure they're a good fit. There are two kayak retailers in the area that offer demos and have the type of boat I'm looking for. The biggest is Rutabaga Paddlesports, located in Monona. They are actually mostly sold out of performance kayaks, and the ones they had left were all the really expensive composite types. The other is a much smaller, private dealer in Oxford, WI by the name of Umingmaq Paddle Touring Center. Looking at their catalog, I found sales on a number of models, including a polyethylene sea kayak called the Venture Jura. It's about the right size, has the bulkheads, has the skeg, and was selling for just $1275, which is on the very, very low end for sea kayaks.

So last Saturday, I made the drive up to Oxford WI. It's about an hour north of Madison. From the pictures on the site, I had expected a specialty store with a varied selection of both plastic and composite sea kayaks. I was surprised that the shop would be so out of the way. I was driving through a secluded residential area, the streets lined with pines and the occasional view of the small lake peeping through the branches. When I got to the address, there was a sign pointing me down a single-lane gravel road, which I cautiously drove down. It wound around a corner, and led to a private address, where a man was woodworking in the yard while his kids played with long sheets of foam (which I would later come to learn were from kayak packaging). I pulled to the side of the driveway, and got out. The guy shooed his kids inside, and approached me. I introduced myself, and asked if they were open. He said yes (his name is Matt), and led me to the garage, which he opened to reveal several trailers loaded with kayaks.

"So what do you plan on doing with your kayak?" "Well, I actually have a kayak already. It's pretty stable, about ten feet long, and meant for lakes and rivers. I'm interested in expedition kayaking though, and that means I'll probably need a sea kayak." "I see." I mentioned some of the kayaking I'd done in the past, including last year's trek around Lake Mendota. I mentioned wanting to kayak the Apostle Islands specifically, as well as a few larger trips. I asked just how important getting a proper sea kayak was for something like that. "Critical. See, the bulkheads are actually a huge safety feature. Without them, if you capsize, the kayak can quickly become flooded and sink. The bulkheads provide pockets of air which are naturally buoyant. Further, the skeg is necessary. You'll need it when dealing with the wind." I asked Matt about the kayak I'd seen online, explaining that the composite kayaks were all well out of my price range. He explained that someone had come in literally the day before and put down money to purchase the last one of those that he'd had available. "I really need to update the website. You see, I'm all out of plastic kayaks. Though I can order more..." "If you were to order more, when might those arrive?" "I've already spoken with Venture about that. I stopped buying their kayaks a while back because Rutabaga started offering theirs at 25% off. I lowered my prices to compete - hence the deal you saw on the site - but I'm really not making any money on those kayaks. Until they can find a way to make it more profitable for independent businesses like me, I won't be purchasing them in bulk. But if I order just one... it'll be here by August." "By August...?!" The weight of disappointment in my voice was impossible to hide. My choices were limited. I could either purchase an expensive composite kayak from either Rutabaga or this guy, or I could wait for the order to come in and miss much of the season.

"August...." "Well, funny story. The guy who came in yesterday came with his wife, who insisted he not buy a kayak. He put money down for one of my kayaks anyway. I suppose I could call him back and ask if him if he's sure about that decision. Who knows, maybe he'll back out and you'll get it?" "I suppose it couldn't hurt to demo it... at least that way I can decide if it's worth waiting for." He gave me the rundown of the specs of the kayak, then showed me some of the fancier composite ones. "One of the things that's nice about paddlesport is that you get what you pay for. Sometimes, in other industries, you'll see crap being marked up and you won't really know if it's any good. That's never really been the case with sea kayaks. I like to do an experiment, where I'll let you try two kayaks, and ask which one you like better. Invariably, people will choose the more expensive kayak." While he was showing me how the skeg operates on each of the kayaks, he asked me about my other trip ideas. I mentioned my Greek isles and Pacific coast dreams, and asked if he knew of anyone who'd ever done something like that. "Actually, I have. Not the section you were mentioning, though. Rather than starting in Seattle and heading south, I started in Seattle and headed north. It's called the Inside Passage. There are a number of islands you can hop between that provide a bit of protection from the open ocean. It's about 2000 miles of the most beautiful coastline in the world." "How'd you get the chance to do that?" "I used to be a professional sea kayaker, and after that a professional yacht racer. We'd have sponsors who'd cover the costs of the whole trip, which was nice."

"What's the coolest expedition you've been on, then?" "When I was young, I had a dream of kayaking the Hudson Bay. As I was just getting out of high school, I took out a loan from the bank and bought my first sea kayak. And I made it happen. It's some 2500 miles around, and if you go further, up the Northwest passage, it's a pretty big trip. I only did a small portion of that. I think that's the coolest one I've done. ... You know, actually, that's another kayak you could try.... Here, it's on the other side of the garage.. It's a bit messy over there." He pushed open a door to the other half of the garage, which immediately got stuck on something. He forced his way in, handing me a few boxes to carry outside. It was a long yellow composite kayak on a lower rack. "This is the kayak I took with me to the arctic. It's a truly majestic craft, and I think it'd fit your size quite well." "No, no, don't even - there is no way I'm going to buy your expedition kayak from you!" "I wouldn't offer it if I didn't mean it. And for what it's worth, I haven't used it in a few years. It's just in here gathering dust." "I couldn't do that.. I'd feel so guilty.. and furthermore, as I already mentioned, I can't afford a composite. How much would you be offering it for?" ".. 2 grand." I nodded slowly. That's a really competitive price. Even for a used kayak, it feels like a steal. "Well, we already discussed demoing the Venture the other bloke put some money down for. What does it hurt to try them both?"

We got out the composite kayak and he had me sit in it to try the fit. My thighs pressed into the cockpit coming, so he removed some foam from under the seat and instructed me to remove the items from my pockets. It was a much better fit, but my long legs still pushed up against one of the bulkheads. We took all of the foam out, and the balls of my feet still pushed against the bulkhead. "That's actually how it's supposed to be. That means it fits just right." So I helped him carry the kayaks to the shore of the small lake behind his house. He went inside to get some paddles he wanted me to try, and I went behind my car and quick-changed into some swim shorts. I got my life vest on, brought a paddle of my own, and took a few sips of water. He had me try the Venture first - the one I had seen on the site. The kayak was a lot less stable than the one I'm used to. I found it a bit difficult to get in, and once on the water, found that it was pretty easy to capsize if I wanted to. "It takes some getting used to. Try rotating your hips and push your right knee up. Try to get a feel for how far the kayak will rotate under you. Do you feel how if you rotate it about that far, you get quite a bit of resistance?" "Yeah." "Don't go past that point on each side. If you go past that point, you'll flip. It may take a bit of practice getting used to, but that's actually a feature, not a flaw. It's what lets you lean into waves, turn quickly, and get more power out of your paddlestroke."

I initially felt pretty uncomfortable, but within about five minutes had gotten a little feel for the limits of the kayak. Matt told me to paddle gently at first until I got used to the rotation. That maneuver is called edging, and is actually what allows the boat to turn more efficiently. If you lean to the right, the boat will naturally want to turn to the left. I found this really counter-intuitive. We made one lap of the lake. It's actually more of a pond - just under one mile around. Along the way, he had me try different paddles, including one that was designed by the winner of some kayak race. When we got back, we switched boats, and I got into the yellow one. Having already been introduced to edging, I quickly pushed away from shore, paddled a few powerful strokes, and found myself whizzing away. It was actually a little disconcerting how fast I was going for the effort I had put in. I let out a whoop. As we kayaked the lake, I asked him questions about how he plans his expeditions. What he packs, how he transports the kayak, how to plan for weather, and so on. He's incredibly knowledgeable about all of these things, as you can imagine. He also recommended a few books about sea kayaking by Derek Hutchinson - a sea kayaking legend - that he said might help me as well. As we toured the lake, I kept finding how, with just one stroke of the paddle, I quickly got ahead. It was just so fast. We stopped in the southern corner of the lake to watch two giant turtles swimming. We got pretty close. It seemed like they were trying to mate. We also saw a few muskrats and ducks.

He asked me what I did, and I told him about SNC. He mentioned having known I was an engineer from the way I talked, and from what I was wearing. I looked down - it was the Cal Poly Polysat polo. He made a good observation. On the way back, I did notice one of my legs was feeling a bit numb. This had happened in the other kayak too, and I hadn't mentioned it. I asked why that might be happening, and he said it meant that the seat might need adjusting. My thighs might need a bit more support to keep the blood flowing and to avoid pinching the nerve. He said feeling numbness in the legs is something a lot of kayakers get, and that it helps if you can take breaks, move around within the kayak, or work those muscles more to build more strength there. Stretching can also help. I may have to experiment with that a bit. When we got back, I dragged the kayaks back onto the shore. I stood there for a minute, looking at the two kayaks. "Alright. You've got a deal. I'll buy the yellow one." "I knew you'd come around. And believe me, this'll help me convince my wife to get the ExploreX (I forget if that's actually what it's called, but it was something like that.) It's a kayak I've been wanting for my next expedition. This way, my wife won't get angry at me. It's a win-win."

"What's your next expedition?" "2020 was a pretty bad year. We've been meaning to get out. We'll be going to the arctic. Should be quite the adventure - we've got it all planned out. There's a 700-mile gravel road along the route we'll be kayaking, so we'll hire a barge to carry the car to our destination. We'll actually see the car pass us as we're kayaking. Then, when we get there, we'll load up the kayaks and drive the long road back, camping all the way. It'll be the first big expedition my girls get to go on." He showed me the two kayaking books he had mentioned. The Complete Book of Sea Kayaking and Expedition Kayaking both by Derek Hutchinson. "Do you have these for sale?" "The blue one, yeah. That's my copy of Expedition Kayaking though. It's been out of print for a while, so I won't be selling it, but I'll let you borrow it if you're interested." I nodded; I was interested. "I've also got a good bit of gear you may want to have." He rolled out a wooden cart he'd clearly built himself. He demonstrated usage of a water pump, and got a camping stove out of its box. "Look how small that thing is!" "Yeah, I use these to boil water and cook meals on expedition. Warm food makes a big difference after a long day on the sea." "I bet. Personally, I generally just go with dried and canned foods on my trips. I've found that works well - no preparation, good food." "Sure, but it's heavy." "Yeah, it is." "I wonder where the cross-over point is. Like after how many days it becomes worth it to carry the burner and fuel vs the cans." He showed me a gravity-fed water filter. "The advantage of these is the volume. I'm sure you've seen the little hand-pump ones." "Yeah, I've got a hand-pumped one." "Trouble with those is that it takes fifteen minutes just to get a liter." I know from experience that this is true. We talked about gear for a good bit more. Looked at dry bags, skirts, the like.

"So you were thinking the Apostles, huh?" "Yeah, it seems like that would be a good first trip. Going around Mendota is 22 miles, and the hop between any two of those islands is no more than a couple miles. I'm sure if I can do 22 miles on Mendota, I can do a few miles on Lake Superior." "Yeah, you totally can. Like for instance if you start at Sand Island, check out the lighthouse, then go to York, the Raspberry, then Oak... or was it Otter first...?" He was motioning with his hands in the air, trying to draw the islands in the sky from memory. "It's been a few years..." "I've got a map in my car." I strode to the Subaru, then pulled out the maps I had printed before coming. I had wanted to show just how serious I was about these trips just in case the guy had thought I was crazy. Unfortunately, the maps hadn't printed well in grayscale, and the islands weren't much distinguishable from the color of the lake. Matt went inside and brought out one map of Lake Superior, and one map of the Apostle Islands in particular, which showed the locations of launch points and camping grounds. He illustrated routes he recommended, discussing the features of a few of the different islands. "One thing you might not know, is that the Apostle Islands have the highest number of black bears per acre in all the lower 48. Just keep that in mind, and use the campsite lockboxes to put your food away each night. Another thing is, late at night when you're camping on the islands, if you stay quiet and listen close, you can hear the hum of freighters on the lake in the night. Then, some 30 to 45 minutes later, big waves will wash up from the wakes of the ships, so make sure to set your camp and pull your kayak high enough up the beach." "Yeah, I'd never have thought of that."

"How do you know so much about the Apostles anyway?" "Heh, I used to be a guide there. I've probably spent some 200 nights of my life camping on the Apostles.” I asked about the weather. "The winds on Lake Superior often come out of the northwest. If you look at the map, that means the winds blow for some thirty miles unimpeded before colliding with the islands. So you're better off staying behind the outer islands for protection. That's actually how the Edmund Fitzgerald met its end." He motioned to the map of the entire lake. "See how the wind blows for some 200 miles over the lake?" I nodded. "It's believed that the Edmund Fitzgerald ran into the shoals by these islands here... but that the gales blew the ship all the way here..." pointing to another spot in the southeast "...before the ship ultimately sank. People often think that sea kayaking is some totally crazy thing, but you just don't go out on days like that if you can avoid it." I told him about one of my sea kayaking heroes, Beau Miles, who made a crossing of the Bass Strait between Australia and Tasmania, and that the same is true there. Wind, unimpeded for thousands of miles until the shallow waters of the Bass Strait make it one of the most dangerous waterways in the world. But you just don't go out when the weather forecast is like that. Matt brought up a harrowing story of one of the times he was a guide in the Apostles. There was a couple who'd scheduled a trip ahead of a wedding, and they found themselves needing to cross from Oak Island to mainland WI the day before the wedding. But strong winds meant that the swells were as high as ten feet, and he pointedly refused to make the crossing. "And that's when I made one of the biggest mistakes of my kayaking career. It is probably the only time I've ever let other peoples' schedules dictate my decisions. I agreed to go, despite my earlier refusal. They were in a tandem, and they'd gained some experience from the trip."

"It's a pretty short distance - just over one mile to cross. I knew it would be risky, but we went for it anyway. Just after the half-way point, a monster wave... a rogue wave... swept through the strait we were crossing. I really thought they'd capsize, and that I'd find myself performing a rescue in those conditions. The man dropped his paddle and didn't lean into the wave as I had taught. His fiance, though, saved them both. She threw her weight into the lean, into the wave, and rode the kayak over the crest. We were blown to the south, but once we made it around this corner.." pointing to Red Cliff Point " ..the lake was much quieter there. So don't make that mistake. Don't go out when you know the weather is going to be bad." I brought up my private pilot training, and how the same wisdom very much applies there. "That's actually how I got out of the sport... I was going to go on an expedition in the arctic with a small group as part of a sponsored expedition. We had everybody up there, all the transport was paid for, all the supplies were ready. And this guy in the group kept talking about how excited he was to surf the big waves up on the Labrador Sea. That if a storm passed through, we'd get the time of our lives. And it struck me just how crazy that was. You know, if something went wrong, and he got injured, the nearest hospital is some three hundred miles away. I couldn't stand to think of the kinds of risks that guy would be willing to put our group in. So I pulled the plug on the expedition. I was too embarrassed to go back. But I knew in my gut something was wrong, and I decided to listen to it."

"After that, I moved back here, where my now wife was doing grad school." "What'd you do then?" "I joined the Madison police department. I've been there for fifteen years now. Just got promoted actually, to investigator." It was a bit surprising, but kind of made sense. I'd noticed how well he noticed the small details. "I got contacted a few years ago by one of the big performance kayak companies, looking for a dealer out here in the midwest. They wouldn't say how they got my name, just that someone had spoken on my behalf. So I spoke with my wife, and that's how we ended up selling kayaks out here." "I've been meaning to ask.. how'd you pick the name for the shop?" "Umingmaq is actually my nickname. I got it on a kayak expedition in the arctic with some Inuit guides. Umingmaq means 'long beard,' or 'muskox' in Inuktitut, and I suppose that's a fitting nickname." he said, stroking his beard. "It felt fitting to keep it when I opened up shop." "That's incredible. It's a good nickname." We both looked back at the lake. "It's great talking to you, actually. You're the only person I've ever spoken to who doesn't think these ideas of mine aren't just totally crazy. Heck, you've done them!" "You know, you're actually the only person I've ever offered my expedition kayak to. When you were telling me about your dreams to paddle the Pacific coast - you reminded me of myself, when I was younger. I just had a feeling about you. This'll be a new chapter in the life of that kayak, but I'm sure you'll make it proud." "That's very kind of you. That just means I'll have to actually live that dream someday." He smiled.

And that's the story of how I got my sea kayak. It's got an epic history.

There's a surprisingly amount of space within the kayak. Matt showed me how he packs his gear, and taught me to try to get the majority of the weight near the center of the kayak. It'll certainly be interesting. The port just behind the seat is called the Day Hatch, and is the only hatch that can safely be opened on the water. It's meant for storing things like snacks, water, sunscreen, and anything else you might need during the day. The other ports are meant to be packed efficiently. It's all about forming habits, since you'll need to pack and unpack the kayak each day.

You're supposed to stay on land in bad weather. But if you find yourself on the open water and the weather turns, the skirt will help you stay dry and in the kayak. I'll definitely go back later this spring or summer when the water warms up a bit to take the safety classes at Umingmaq so I have some practical experience if I need it. I also use the opportunity to buy some of that gear.