blackandredsup-blog

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Now working with Astral Designs, ye ha! Modeled here are the Brewers, a perfect one and only paddle shoe. Walk on rocks, trail, slacklines, and paddle board with them.

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Keep your eyes open for the 2014 sup gear guide by SUP Mag. I'm featured as an ambassador for Hala. Pic is of me this winter in Bend running First Street Rapids. Fun fun.

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Introducing friends to down river paddle boarding is such a reward. And the Wild/Scenic section of the Crooked River at flows greater than 350cfs is a wonderful location. It was my first river experience with somewhat swift water and rocks and riffle rapids. It will be a go-to section only 40 miles from Bend for a taste of river touring.

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My favorite form of dryland training for paddle boarding is to slackline. Balance. Projection. Instinct. Courage. Muscle memory. Focus. Breathing. Composure. Me on the beach, La Paz, Mexico.

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The Duffle Bag Paddle Boarder

THE DUFFLE BAG PADDLE BOARDER text and photography by Paul Clark Many of my greatest moments have been spent with a backpack. Carrying minimal stuff, the essentials, broken down into categories such as shelter, energy, and hydration has its rewards. A pack limits what is brought, so what is brought is important. Just as important is what I leave behind. It takes time and experience to discover what is important. The more I travel with a pack's worth of gear the more I find I'm carrying what is important and less excess baggage. Exploration at a walking pace has always been my thing. Raised in the rain shadow of the Sierras on the Nevada side of Tahoe, hiking in the mountains and paddling where outlets for me. Day trips led to overnighters. Longer adventures and more remote was an attraction. Desolation Wilderness with its alpine lakes and granite peaks was my playground in the mid 90s. I was always excited to meet people who were traveling in the backcountry, learning about their experiences and their packing systems. Studying philosophy in college, I was drawn more to the poets and historians documenting frontiers. Drawn to the stories of John Kraukour, Into The Wild and Into Thin Air. Tragic stories, but I could relate to them, eccentric individuals willing to challenge themselves for Wilderness. Wilderness, perhaps the last sense of sacredness in our modern world. I hitchhiked across Europe wearing jeans and a cowboy hat looking for adventure. The more I went into civilization the more I wanted less of it and more mountains, glaciers, misty fjords and solitude. I hitched across Alaska wearing fleece and Gore-tex looking to become a mountaineer. Instead, I found telemark skiing and sea kayaking. With more tools to travel deeper into the wilderness I became a ski bum and kayak guide. I bounced around the West looking for more snowy landscapes and water and the few unique personalities who inhabit such places. The Collegiate Mountain Range, the Tetons, the Wastach. I thru-hiked the PCT from Mexico to Canada. I kayaked the 1000mile Baja's Sea of Cortez coast, twice, solo. I ski patrolled in Utah and Oregon. Living out of a pack for many years was my meaning to life. Then marriage to a lovely lady. Then settling down, kind of. New perspectives. No kids, but dogs and cats. A decade has gone by and grey has grown in my hair. Fortunately I live in Bend, Oregon, a town where pedestrian sports are part of the lifestyle as much as beer and coffee. When paddle boarding showed up here I thought it was just another silly thing to occupy time and money, like roller-blading and disc golf – things that at times I was pretty fond of. But then I was given an inflatable SUP board and things haven't been the same for me. With an inflatable, or ISUP, paddle boarding is no longer just a surfing sport or expensive flat-water float. The board is a tool, a vehicle for backcountry touring. Rolled up, a board can fit into a large pack. Alpine lakes thousands of feet above sea level are possible destinations, as are long and remote rivers. In the relatively short time I have been paddle boarding I have paddled with migrating birds in the Malheur, hiked with boards in the Three Sisters Wilderness, and have descended many miles of the wild and scenic John Day River. These activities have led to a growing madness for self-contained pedestrian travel. Longer, faster, more remote. I paddled the 100 miles and 25 named Class III+ rapids of the Lower Deschutes in a single day. Whitewater! Self-contained paddle board expeditions. All gear either hauled in on my back in a back or tethered to the deck of the board. Brilliant. I'm hooked. Where else? And the full circle had occurred. Baja remains a very special place for me and my paddling identity. Pretty much the moment I put a pack on the deck of a paddle board I dreamed about the possibility of touring the Sea of Cortez standing up. Finally, this winter with less than average snow fall in the mountains and a month long window of opportunity, I rolled my board in a pack and flew to Mexico. Kayakers tend to bring a lot of gear. Long touring boats mean room for more and more stuff. Stuff includes the cars to haul the boats, and the logistics of shuttling gear from one place to the other when not on the water. Stuff includes spare this and that. Stuff that spills out of dry hatches and into deck bags. Stuff outdoor advertisers say you need. Stuff you think you must have but never use. On my first kayaking trip to Baja I brought well over a hundred poulnds of stuff not including the boat or potable water. On this paddle board expedition to Baja I ended up bringing more stuff than needed, but was able to contain most things into a single but heavy pack, a 120L Sea to Summit dry bag with removable backpack straps. This allowed me to fly from Oregon, catch rides, and hike through towns with all my gear. I traveled overland from San Jose Del Cabo north to Santa Rosalia taking several days, acclimatizing myself so to speak, breathing in the desert, and drifting into Baja time. When I inflated my 12'6” Hala Nass in the marina at Santa Rosalia and strapped my gear down some people came up to me asking me what I was doing. They had never seen anybody “kayaking standing up with a backpack for luggage.” When I arrived in La Paz 310 miles later, more folks said pretty much the same thing. Because I discovered that long distance paddle boarding is possible on the sea, and on rivers, and in the mountains, I suppose I will not be the last person seen standing on the water.

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Frost in the trees and calm on the water. A little paddle boarding on the Deschutes today. Between Dillon and Slough some magic can be found.

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Morning paddle training on the Deschutes. Clearest mind, calmest moments. Make cautious pivot turns with a frozen deck pad, however.

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Last labor in Mexico. Embrace the calm. Load the gear. Juice up. And hit the traffic to the airport.

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What began today at the Pescadero Surf Camp pool with a little SUP clinic with yoga and paddle techniques ended up in San Jose Del Cabo. Was supposed to be my return home, but with a reservation error, winded up staying one more night. What's up with Cabo's infatuation with cigars and Viagra?

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Last full day in Baja. Went to Cerritos for a little mushy wave fun with the StarBoard Converse 9'

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Had a little tour of Pescadero today. A little slacklining in the city center, met some kids, went to the impressive skatepark, and did a general meander.

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The community staying at the Pescadero Surf Camp is pretty cool. Went down the road to Cerritos with the Hala Nass and shared the love.

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Packed up and left the city of La Paz where I had been really doing no more than wandering the streets and eating. Headed to the Pacific side of the Cape, Pescadero Surf Camp. After arriving, I have done little other than slackline over the pool and drink margaritas in the shade. I guess you can say I’m decompressing. I can't think of a better place to be right now.

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Some faces on the Sea of Cortez coast between Loreto and La Paz.

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Some scenes from my last and longest segment of paddle boarding on the Sea of Cortez. From Loreto to La Paz 170 miles of Baja wild.

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It takes about 400 pumps to inflate the board. Another 800 strokes to paddle a mile. I have now paddled 140 miles since Santa Rosalia.

From Mulege to Loreto the paddle board testing began. Remote desert beaches, some softer than others, cliffs, and variable windy weather all have offered good challenges. A preventative patch repair on a minor tear. Paddling on flat water or against head winds at slower than walking pace. Downwind navigating around exposed rocky points. This is work. I have earned each mile. And I have earned the rewards of moving down the coast averaging about 3 miles per hour.

In Loreto again for a single night as I prepare for the next leg. To enjoy the paddling more I’m expecting to take up to ten days to reach La Paz, about 170 miles.

As no internet services are going to be easily available on this stretch, continue following my progress on SPOT, the link found on my page, www.blackandredphotography.com/supbaja.html