Canoe vs Kayak

When I was growing up my father and I would rent a canoe from an outfitter on the Current River and load it with a couple of days worth of gear. Usually, they gave us a 17’ Alumacraft that required a splash of cool water on the seat and gunwale before climbing aboard on a hot sunny day. Think fried ham steaks (which I also hate). These boats looked like they had been through a bad plane crash and, in my eyes, lacked anything that could pass for style, grace or beauty. While they allowed us to successfully navigate or, in my dads words, perpetually crash from the left to the right bank of the river, it always seemed like a fight. The grabby aluminum hulls weren’t able to slide over logs or gravel bars without getting stuck. The boat made terrible noises with every bump of a paddle or rock. There was no chance of observing wildlife in its natural habitat because the animals could hear you coming from a mile away and, frankly, wanted no part of all that commotion. I hated canoes. It got worse too.

At Scout Camp one year, we  learned how to rescue a swamped boat in the middle of a lake. The idea is, basically, to pull the other canoe perpendicular over the gunwales and dump the water. This fine maneuver usually resulted in two swamped canoes. As I hauled the other canoe across mine, I cut my palm on a little spur of metal. This little mishap precluded me from all water activities for the final three hot and humid days of Scout Camp. I hated canoes even more.

As my dad is a critical thinker, I’m sure he had similar misgivings about canoes. I was still very young when he decided to buy a boat. We ended up with a derelict seventeen foot long Folbot Super. It had a wooden frame that was broken in three places and some sort of modern coated canvas material stretched over it. Dad replaced the missing bits of hull with glue and pieces of old tire inner tubes. The seats and floor where made of plywood and most of the frame was coated with a thick layer of well-worn varnish. That kayak must have outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds. We had to either replace or reinforce most of the frame.  This made it even heavier.  Somehow, it was still a really cool boat. It had this incredible chrome hood ornament that proudly announced it was a Folbot Super. Dad referred to his new boat as the “baidarka” excitedly referencing his knowledge of Inuit culture.

We took the Folbot on several river trips and people would stare at our funky looking craft. Often, people would yell from shore asking us to do an Eskimo roll or mundane questions about whether or not it floated very well. For all its weirdness and shortcomings, it was a beautiful way to get down the river. Compared to the Alumacrafts, the Folbot stealthily cut through the water.  Despite the odd questions, I loved the graceful way we maneuvered that boat.  I felt the subtle undulations of the current beneath me.  I changed my mind about boats.

When we purchased the Folbot, it was probably nearing 15 years old.  We enjoyed it for several years until a fateful voyage down the Jack’s Fork River.  We carried several days of gear, and my little brother, who sat in the middle. I tended to steer us towards the rapids and was not the best at looking for submerged obstacles. We went through a set of rapids and  I felt us hit the rock. A few moments later, my feet and butt were wet, then my hips, we were going down. Onlookers, again, felt obligated to comment as we repaired the hull with duct tape. The patch held for another full day down the Jacks Fork.  I may have cried a little when my dad found out that a new skin would be more than he had paid for the entire boat.

The next spring, my dad bought an Aquaterra Chinook sea kayak. The Chinook was a sixteen foot roto-molded boat. We had one of the early boats that was sort of translucent white. I was still to young to take it on the river without supervision but puttering around a lake in this boat was my first experience in a real kayak. It was long, narrow and fast. I imagined loading it with gear then photographing killer whales and glaciers on voyages up north. We used colored electrical tape to make a menacing mouth with huge teeth on the front that looked like a shark eating its way through the water. It was an awesome boat.

As I got older, I would rent sea kayaks and tour Puget Sound or hire a guide service to take me down the Colorado River in a raft. I bought a Dagger RPM whitewater kayak when I worked at the Alpine Shop, a local haven for those inclined toward adventure. My buddies and I would tie four boats to the roof of an old VW Jetta and drive down the the Saint (Francis River) to surf the holes.

Since that first ride in the Folbot, I loved boating.  Note, I still shuddered at the thought of ever getting into another boat made out of recycled beer cans. To me, canoes seemed something only used by sunburned drunks on float trips down the Huzzah.  I was a kayak man.

The canoe won back my respect.

Kayaks still have many advantages over canoes. Kayaks are faster. The narrow, long touring kayak that my dad used to have was very fast. The newer ones are even better. In a kayak, you sit very low in the boat providing stability. The deck and spray skirt provide a dry, safe feeling cockpit for rough water or cold weather.

On rough offshore water, a closed kayak with a skirt is probably a better option. With a well practiced roll or a paddle float and bilge pump, you can usually self rescue when things get hairy. Running a class IV rock garden in a 6’ whitewater kayak with a nose clip and helmet is considered more sane. Canoes can still accomplish these tasks, but I would argue that most people are looking to use their boats in less extreme conditions.

For those looking to take a boat on protected rivers or lakes, kayaks have some limitations. Gear is usually stowed under the deck or in a place that’s inaccessible while paddling. In a canoe, gear is easily reached from anywhere in the boat. You can also spin around in the bow seat of a canoe to reach the cooler, crack a beer and chat with your paddling partner.

Canoes are actually very stable and allow you to move around and sit more comfortably than in a kayak. In a kayak, you’re pretty much wearing the boat with your knees pressed up against the deck and your feet pushing you back in the seat. There is usually a bulkhead or float bag that keeps you from stretching your legs. I had to take my Chacos off to squeeze into the Dagger. Even in recreational boats, your only option is to sit with your legs straight out in front of you. In the canoe you can sit, kneel, put your feet on a thwart and lean back, sit with your legs straight or bent, install a back rest or any number of other options.

Getting in and out of a kayak can be a challenge, especially when the kayak isn’t beached or at a dock. It requires gymnastics and contortion to wiggle yourself in  the small opening of a kayak. In the whitewater boat, I had to sit on the deck behind the seat, put my feet in and then slide forward into the seat. I yanked the skirt onto the coping and have a buddy push me into the river. In the sea kayak, I’d carry a paddle float in case I capsized in open water. The process there was to blow up the float, put it on the paddle, strap the paddle to the deck, hoist yourself into the seat, hug your knees and spin into the cockpit. In a canoe, you sort of just step into it or, at worst, climb over the side if you’re in deep water.

Ah, but what about the sit-on-top kayak you say. In a sit-on-top kayak, you’re not confined or restricted by the deck or spray skirt. The thing about sit-on-tops is they are fair weather water craft. They sit low in the water and most have drain holes in the seat and foot area that fill with water over every ripple. They’re not really suitable for a crisp fall day on the river which, in my opinion, is the best time to paddle.

Staying dry is also difficult in a decked kayak. It’s frustrating to have water drip down the paddle shaft onto your hands and either in your jacket or your lap.  Even with drip guards the blade that just came out of the water is draining water down on to you. The single bladed canoe paddle alleviates this issue quite nicely.

Fishing from a canoe

I have to admit that I’m not really into fishing. I used to go fly fishing when I lived in Utah. I actually ran into Robert Redford wading on the Provo River. He was much better at it than me and I’ve pretty much given up on fishing. Either way, there are quite a few advantages to fishing from small boat; low profile, quiet approach and fishing steams inaccessible to larger Bass Trackers. Canoes provide an obvious edge while fishing. Your gear is easy to get to, there is room for multiple tackle boxes, a few rods and a cooler full of dead fish or beer and you still have plenty of room to move around and cast. Canoes offer a higher vantage point that allows you to spot fish easily.  Most canoes are stable enough that you can both stand up to cast and use a pole to push through weeds or upstream. I’ve never been in a kayak that I’d want to stand up in.

Recreational Canoeing

My wife and like to load up the canoe and head way upriver to avoid crowds and go on multi-day adventures. We’ve puttered around a lake in a canoe but its  not what we’re currently in to. When I was younger, we’d take the Folbot, a windsurf board and the entire family to a local lake and  paddle aimlessly. My mom sat under an umbrella and read a book while dad and I gave my little sisters rides around the lake.  These sorts of family activities aren’t really possible in a kayak. Even in a tandem kayak, you’ve got room for the two paddlers and not much else. The dog and half the kids will be stuck on the beach watching you having fun. A canoe, however, offers room for the two paddlers and a couple of passengers as well as gear. A single paddler can easily offer rides down the river or across the lake to provide a fun diversion for everyone. Most people looking for a recreational craft would be much better off with the conveniences afforded by an open canoe.

In the kayak vs canoe debate, there are several interesting points. My opinion has obviously been swayed back towards the newer royalex and composite open canoe for most of my adventures. Kayaks still have a place on the water but they are more specialized and not as versatile as a canoe. For the solo paddler, a couple or a small family, I believe the best option for recreation on the water is a canoe.

Canoe Advantages

• Canoes can be paddled solo or with several passengers
• Canoes sit up higher giving you a better view of the water
• Canoes allow easy access to gear and more room for it
• Canoes offer a variety of sitting and kneeling positions
• Canoes are easy to get in and out of

Kayak Advantages

• Kayaks ride lower in the water and offer less wind resistance and more stability
• A skirt will help keep the inside of a kayak and any gear stored there drier
• Kayaks are often faster than canoes

Tagged as: Aquaterra Chinook Kayak, canoe, canoe vs kayak, folbot, kayak