Feature-Women in Paddling: Sexing the Kayak Trip

June-July 2000

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.

by Joanna Streetly

Wimmin Seeking Wild trip participants mug for the camera

I remember the day quite clearly. It wasn't raining, but it was blowing from the south-east. You could see the wind waves pushing over the harbour, north-west towards Vargas Island. It was the sort of day you would choose not to go paddling. We commented on that fact as the lone kayaker pulled his boat up the beach below Tofino Sea Kayaking. A few of us were lounging on the balcony, watching the world go by - a hard thing to avoid, when you live near the water.

We obviously hadn't been watching well enough.

Within minutes the guy who had just paddled in, came up the stairs and pushed through the door, then came back out, having borrowed a powerful pair of binoculars. He leaned against the balcony and squinted in the direction of Rassier Point, on Vargas Island, a distance of about two miles. He seemed to have lost something, so I asked if I could help.

"Here," he said, and thrust the binoculars into my hands. "I'm looking for my girlfriend. She's in a white boat. Fibreglass."

He might as well have started pounding at the glass door with a sledge hammer. The people on the back deck froze. And stared at him. The temperature slid dramatically.

"What do you mean?" I asked, barely breathing, staring at the rough water.

"Ach! She's way too slow. Couldn't keep up. I'm wondering when she's going to get here."

"You left her behind?" came a chorus of voices.

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Stop paddling?"

You can see why I remember the incident so clearly. Needless to say, a barrage of shocked responses ensued. How much the man absorbed, however, is dubious. Self examination just wasn't in his nature.

We were about to go out in a motor boat to look for his poor, trailing girlfriend, when we got a phone call from someone on Clayoquot Island, half a mile away. She had made it that far, was exhausted, in tears, scared out of her wits. She was being given a ride back to town.

I think about those two people a lot. I wonder if they stayed together after that. I wonder if she ever went paddling again. Perhaps it's an extreme example, but over the years I have heard many similar stories. To be sure, the behaviour is not limited to male-female paddling trips, but it is definitely more common that the person left behind is female. Sadly, this kind of thing seems to happen more frequently among less-experienced paddlers, raising the danger quotient even higher.

As a guide, at the start of a trip I lay out the pros and the cons of single and double kayaks. Often there is a couple who will take a double because the woman is concerned about being left behind if she paddles alone. I've explained that the group travels at the pace of the slowest paddler, but it isn't convincing enough. I always wonder why this person immediately assumes she will be incapable. I don't mind these couples going in a double; doubles are so much safer anyway. But then there's the quality of the ensuing paddling experience. . . . Some couples work together easily, flow along. Other times it's difficult. Sometimes the man has sacrificed his desire to go in a single. It bothers him. When the kayak goes the wrong way, or moves too slowly, the woman cops much of the blame. These people don't really enjoy themselves. And it's a shame, because they never get a second chance to make a first impression.

There are many more examples of women feeling insecure about their paddling abilities. I don't need to discuss them. They are somehow tied in with the chaos that constitutes gender roles at the turn of the century. Everybody has a different idea of where they fit in a relationship. But there are times when that idea can interfere with individual growth and learning. For this reason, single-sex kayak tours have become increasingly popular. They appeal to women who might never go kayaking otherwise.

Natasha Baert began running women's kayak tours six years ago. For her, there's a sense that "the outdoor industry promotes machoism. You know? the rugged outdoor guy-the Marlboro Man?" Having worked on a women's trip in Kyuquot, with West Coast Expeditions, Natasha found that the experience was different in a group of women. "It was not necessarily easier," she allows, "but I really enjoyed the atmosphere. There was a lot less physical motivation, but the women were a lot more satisfied by being in nature."

Natasha enjoyed it so much that she set up her own program, Wimmin Seeking Wild, through Tofino Sea Kayaking, in Clayoquot Sound. The trip is "an experiential, educational tour," that runs for six days. The objective is for women to come out of the trip with "a feeling of competence-that they can go out there and do it." Being a female role model in the outdoors is important for Natasha. "Seeing a woman running a trip makes it seem so much more accessible," she believes. "It adds confidence, which is a big issue for women in the outdoors. They see that they could perhaps organise a trip for their friends."

This is Natasha's tenth season guiding. She has worked up and down the coast, from Patagonia to Alaska. In that time, she has introduced many people to kayaking. She has enjoyed many wonderful co-ed trips, but she still sees gender roles as an obstacle to learning.

"When you first start a course, there's an instant breakdown into roles. People fall into them automatically, even if it's such as small thing as the guys wanting to carry the boats."

"It's interesting though," she muses. "There's something about sea kayaking that women can really identify with. They often end up emerging as the stronger students. Some women never notice the gender issue. Others overcome it, with the right encouragement. Look at how many female guides there are in the industry today," Natasha gestures around her, "Do you remember the year when the only staff we had here were women? We felt we had to hire a guy, just to make things fair. "

I wonder, out loud, if the woman who was left behind that fateful day would ever come on a Wimmin Seeking Wild trip, or if she would never try kayaking again. It's hard to know. Natasha says her clients are a mix: older women, younger professional women, gay women. "They are usually people with an athletic bent; that's why they've chosen an instructional trip, not a guided tour." They come with varying degrees of fear: fear of physical competence and fear of the wild, of bears and cougars, wind and weather.

They leave with the memory of being out there. The same elements that affect so many paddlers-the rhythm of the sea, the changes and the patterns-the things that you learn for yourself, as long as the environment is right. When it comes down to it, guides are just facilitators. They provide the right environment. Single sex trips offer a different environment, one that offers a slice of psychological freedom, one that appeals to people for variety of personal reasons.

Whatever the reason, as long the outcome is positive, a great goal has been achieved.

Joanna Streetly lives in Tofino, BC, her home for the last ten years where she works as a kayak guide for Tofino Sea Kayaking, a magazine editor for The Sound Magazine, and a writer. Her book Paddling Through Time: a sea kayak journey in Clayoquot Sound, published by Raincoast Books, is being launched this June. ©