Chaos with no control at 30 mph -- that's snow kayaking

By Matthias Petry

March 22, 2004 | You hang on for dear life while you're shooting down the slope at about 30 miles per hour in a vehicle not designed for this.

Your hands clamp your paddle in a useless attempt of steering and the icy wind makes your face freeze. But despite your steering efforts your kayak soon turns around and sends you downhill backward. Shooting over some bumps, you are shaken around in your boat and miss a lonely tree on the slope only by a couple of yards. Then finally you feel the slope getting less steep and the kayak slowing down.

This extreme experience is called snow kayaking, which appears to have started in British Columbia. The Glacier Mountain Resort claims to have invented this sledding aberration, according to its website.

It's a somewhat risky kind of winter entertainment, but a risk the members of the Utah State University Kayak and Canoe Club are willing to take as it provides a good excuse to finally get in their beloved boats again, even in winter.

Anna Knudsen, vice president of the USU Kayak and Canoe Club, explains where she got the idea of snow kayaking.

"My friends and I were watching a kayaking video that also had some snow kayaking on it," she says. "The people were going pretty extreme, going down cliffs and stuff, but it looked fun."

So she tried it, not on a slope first, but in her back yard.

"We had powder that day, so you couldn't breathe 'cause the snow was just flying up in your face," she says.

"It was fun . . . and you had no control," she laughs.

And so on a nice, but very cold Friday afternoon she sets out for The Sinks, Led Zeppelin blasting out of her car stereo, two kayaks on top of her car and its inside covered in a wallpaper of kayaking stickers. With her are the rest of the kayak club and also some non-members who just want to see what sledding in a kayak feels like.

Although it's still early in the afternoon, the temperature is between 5 and 10 degrees. The sun is a steady glow, hidden behind a veil of fog that has been hanging over Cache Valley for the last week.

The 12 people who have come along are grateful for every piece of clothing they brought. All are wrapped up in several layers of heavy skiing clothes, along with scarves, beanies, gloves and goggles or sunglasses. Some are even wearing facemasks to protect their face from the wind during the kayaking ride.

After a half-an-hour-drive the group finally arrives at The Sinks, just a mile north-east of the Beaver Mountain Ski Area. It's a perfect place for snow kayaking because "you can't stop," Knudsen laughs, "so you need to have a good run-out." And a good run-out - having enough space to slow down when you have no chance to brake - is exactly what you get at The Sinks.

They are also excellent for snow kayaking as you can choose between two hills of different steepness.

To the right you have the "Don't hurt me, I'm a beginner" hill, which has about 30 percent gradient and hardly any bumps. You can just let it go and enjoy the ride.

On the left-hand side the slope is much steeper, about 40 percent, and longer. Also, there is a small path leading right across the slope and its edges provide a wonderful opportunity for a jump.

So the group makes its way about a hundred yards up the hill, dragging the lightweight kayaks behind them like sleds. In a different location you could also use snowmobiles to take you uphill so you can make longer runs and don't have to work your way up again on foot.

For the first couple of runs, Josh Anderson, president of the USU Kayak and Canoe Club, Knudsen and some of the other more experienced kayakers manage to steer with their paddles, much like using your foot when steering a sled.

However, steering in this case does not really mean controlling in which direction you go, it basically only means keeping the kayak from turning around 180 degrees and sending you downhill with your back first. And that is exactly what happens to most of the snow kayaking first timers at some point, although it doesn't spoil the fun.

Surprisingly, even though it's such a fun activity, there is no snow kayaking organization club or organization in Utah, says Knudsen. It's "just for entertainment, a reason to get together with friends," she says.

"It's basically an excuse to get in your boot," she says. "And sledding's really fun, so combine the two and you make a great activity."

After a couple of single runs, Anderson and Knudsen decide to do a "kayak train." So all six kayaks are towed together, manned and womaned and off they go. The whole train going down the hill looks like a snake speeding through the sand with its end whipping uncontrollably left and right.

Again everybody comes up the hill after the ride completely enthusiastic and thrilled like small children under a Christmas tree.

Unfortunately the second train-run doesn't work that well. The ride itself is fun again for everybody but fun's over when it ends up at the end of the hill with all kayaks crashing into each other and piling up like police cars in the "Blues Brothers" movies.

"Well, that was awesome, besides this," Knudsen says, pointing towards Shumit Vatsal, an exchange student from India, who is lying on the ground holding his left knee.

"I kind of hurt my back [during the run] so I put my leg out and then the kayak just run over my leg," he says in his Indian accent. "But it's OK, I'm OK now."

Fortunately it's nothing serious; one can't even notice the hurting knee when Shumit walks.

So far everybody went down onlythe less steep side of the hill to the right.

But soon some people need more excitement and decide to go down on the other side, which gives a much longer, faster and thrilling ride.

One of the first to try it is Briant Jacobs, a member of the Kayak Club, but still a snow kayaking first-timer. The rest of the group has almost as much fun watching his ride as he has doing it.

He shoots down the hill like a torpedo, losing his paddle when his kayak makes a sudden 180-degrees-turn and he almost collides with two huskies running across the slope, turning again so that at least he faces the right way again.

Without the paddle or any kind of control he continues and he makes another involuntary "180," jumping a couple of feet over the edge of a small path crossing the slope. Finally his kayak gradually slows down as he reaches the run-out part of the slope.

Fortunately nothing happened to him or any part of the equipment - which can be quite expensive, says Knudsen.

"Brand new kayaks are $800, but you get can a used kayak for $350. And then a paddle can range from $60 all the way up to $300, depending on what kind of paddle," she says. "A helmet can be from 40$ to $100. Not exactly cheap. So I prefer used stuff."

After some more runs, it slowly starts getting darker, the shadows are growing even longer and the temperature is slowly dropping even lower. Many arevisibly tired, every uphill trip takes longer than the previous one and the only 20-pound kayaks seem to get heavier with every yard.

So the group finally decides to call it a day, but one thing is for sure: They will be back.

"It was awesome," says Elizabeth Pedersen, a member of the Kayak Club and outdoor fanatic. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience."

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