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< March/April 2000
	River Runner Supplement
Blackadar's Missing Manuscript A Few Words on Cold, Early-Season Boating Walt Blackadar

- Editor's Note: This article was unearthed in Idaho by the late Walt Blackadar's son, Bob, who passed it on to Paddler for publication. For an account of Blackadar's life, check out Never Turn Back, the Life of Whitewater Pioneer Walt Blackadar, available from author Ron Watters at 800-585-6857.

I'm at a loss to explain why anyone would want to dip a paddle into icy water - it's so much more fun to glide the skis for another month and wait for the chunks to melt. Also, if you like whitewater as much as I do, early Idaho paddling is drab, with the water low and rapids smaller than last September when you left them for the winter. Furthermore, Mexico is crying for adventure and exploration, as is the Southwest, with their best water of the year in March - check out the upper Rio Grande, the Salt or the Grand Canyon - the ultimate lower 48 kayaking.

However, if you're itching for a bit of difficult water up North and can't wait for summer, know that certain pitfalls await you. The danger you face is insidious and deadly. It's a warm day, the air is 70 degrees, and you've dreamed of paddling that short stretch of "Never Run Gorge" all winter. You forget that your boating skills have become rusty and that you haven't rolled in six long months. Believe me, this is no time to tackle the challenges of your boating career. Confine early-season jaunts to easy runs and try the real hard stuff only after relearning all those skills and doing them instinctively again.

Even then, there are perils to early boating that must be respected, even if you're a no-swim kayaker who always rolls. The skydiver who never takes a spare chute will soon learn the truth of the saying, "nothing is certain." I seldom swim but I always make sure I'm prepared for one anyway. I remember a Navy truism: "an unprotected body encased in ice water does not survive more than a few minutes." One's will to struggle diminishes quickly in cold water and soon one's desire to live ceases altogether.

Dry suits and wetsuits should be the basis of our cold-water boating attire, though be aware that dry suit tops can sometimes fill with water and leave the feet encased in air, leading to a bottoms-up situation - not especially conducive to survival. Wetsuits, on the other hand, fit snug to one's body. Many articles tell how quickly the water warms inside a wetsuit's neoprene, but the water doesn't warm, it just doesn't get colder, and life is possible in spite of the cold. The wetsuit, in essence, allows for a frigid survival to continue indefinitely.

When the water is between 33 and 50 degrees, I wear a neoprene wetsuit covering my entire body except for feet, head and hands. I cover these appendages depending on air temperature, for I know enough of my body is protected to survive an extensive swim. When water is above 50 degrees, I generally use one-eighth inch neoprene and cover the trunk only and not my extremities. Few boaters use thicker neoprene except for booties because a one-quarter inch wetsuit gets too hot and paddling is restricted. As we transfer our boats to whitewater rapids filled with ice cubes and slush ice, we tend to rely on the buoyancy of a wetsuit for salvation. This is a grievous error. One's life jacket is needed even more in cold water for we need all the help we can get. I use my biggest life jacket in the coldest water, when my skills are the most sluggish.

In summary, when you get the urge to visit your river early in the year, take your cross-country skis instead of your boat and tour along the bank safely. When the ice is gone and you take your boat out for the first time of the season, screw your head on securely and use the safety measures I have outlined.