Channeling his energy!

How can you not enjoy meeting someone like Davis Lee, an individual who is both inspirational and inspired? Articulate, humble, brilliant - he's the ideal interview. But what drives a man to want to tackle the English Channel? It's a simple question, but one that has no easy answer. Below is the unabridged version of my story that ran in the Boston Globe (click here to read the published article).

The Long Swim
Newburyport man attempts to cross the English Channnel

When Newburport's Kate Lee learned she was expecting her second child this spring, she sent her 2-year-old son Oliver to greet his father at the door with a bottle of tequila and a shot glass. Given Davis Lee's plans to swim the English Channel later this month, seven week's before Kate's due date, the couple's friends might wonder if he didn't finish off the entire bottle.

But such recklessness would be far too rash for this 35-year-old nuclear physicist. Lee, a native of Greenwich, Conn., has actually been entertaining thoughts of an English Channel swim for two decades, since he was 14, living in the Bahamas. In a way, much of what he's done since has pointed toward the day that he would tackle the feat.

"Most people think I'm nuts," said Lee recently, between training swims. "It's just something I got in my head. Not many people have done it. Maybe I have something to prove. I don't really know. It's just something that became a goal. Why do people climb Mount Everest? You set a goal, and you do it."

The idea never left him. After Lee secured his doctorate in nuclear science and engineering from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 2003 and moved to California, his fascination with the Channel took flight. He started swimming off San Diego's La Hoya Cove several times weekly. A chance encounter with another swimmer training for the Channel cemented Lee's ambition.

"That's when it all came together," said Lee. "It just spiraled from there."

Lee immersed himself, literally, in his pastime. In 2005, he contacted the Channel Swimming Association one of two governing bodies overseeing crossing attempts, for details. Two years ago, he and Kate, even as they became parents, agreed to marshal their resources for a Channel swim this fall.

"Pushing myself is a big theme," said Lee. "Physically, you can train yourself to do anything. But there's this massive mental component. I like putting myself in situations where I have to tell myself, 'I'm going to power through this, somehow.'"

Those who know Lee well won't be surprised. This is a man who overcame the challenge of dyslexia to earn his degree in math and physics from the University of Mary Washington in 1998 and his Masters in applied physics from John Hopkins in 2002 before securing his PhD from MIT. He's approached this latest challenge in the same vein – decide on a goal, plot a course, and follow that plan religiously.

"It's one of my big problems," said Lee. "I don't know when to quit."

A strict adherence to training over the past 18 months has Lee in ideal shape for his Channel adventure. Stocky by nature, Lee now has 190 pounds hung on his muscular 5-foot-9 frame. In July, he tamed the Kingdom Swim, a 10-mile race across Lake Memphremagog in northern Vermont, in 4½ hours. Last month, Lee entered the Boston Light Swim, an eight-mile race from Little Brewster Lighthouse to South Boston, for the second year running, and shaved 44 minutes from his 2009 effort, finishing under three hours.

"Davis is definitely ready. If anything, I've had to hold him back," said his coach, Andrew Soracco. "He's pretty amazing."

He'll have to be. The English Channel crossing is no small task. The 21-mile gap between Dover, England, and Calais, France, has played its siren song to swimmers for more than 135 years, ever since Captain Matthew Webb first completed an official, observed crossing on Aug. 25, 1975, in 21 hours, 45 minutes. However, due to tides and currents, Channel swimmers are typically forced to take a more roundabout line. Lee can expect to swim at least 30 miles in a large "S" formation, said Soracco.

Still, there are very real dangers. Lee, claiming he's not averse to risks (although he has put his sky-diving hobby on hold for the past 18 months), nonetheless employs his analytical approach to minimize them. "I like to know as many variables as possible," he said, sounding every bit like the nuclear physicist who works for Axcelis in Beverly.

"Everything in my make-up says I'm in the low probability side of the equation. I'm relatively young. I'm fit. I've really put in my time training. I've conditioned myself to the cold water."

Lee's chief concerns are water temperatures, changing water conditions, the distance, and stress.

"Physically, probably the most important thing is being able to withstand the cold water," said Soracco. "The channel averages between 55-56 degrees. If you can't keep your core temperature up, you're going to go hypothermic. That's the number one safety concern."

Lee estimates his body fat percentage is "somewhere between 12 and 18 percent," but he's not worried. After his tune-up at the Boston Light race, and a required 6-hour practice swim in late August, Lee and Soracco both deemed the swimmer Channel worthy.

"If I could magically be in England and swim tomorrow, I'd happily take the day off and just go do it," he said. "I don't have any anxiety or fear about it. I'm just eager to go.

Soracco also knows that conditions can change dramatically during the brief window when swimmers leave Shakespeare Beach. "The day Sybil swam, the Channel was like a washing machine," he said. "The first four, five hours, she fought to get her rhythm. The waves would come up and roll her over when she tried to take a breath. It was really harsh. The day after, it was as smooth as glass. I couldn't believe it was the same body of water."

Consequently, mental toughness is often the swimmer's greatest asset. And Lee has that trait in spades. "You have to have the mental capacity to keep everything together, and to keep moving," Soracco said. "The real draw is the risk, and overcoming the risk. It's so easy just to bag it. People quit, even though they certainly could have made it. Most people are their own worst enemy. They cave."

"Davis is almost supernatural. He never seems to falter. He never seems to have any doubt, at all," he said. "This guy is set. I'm just trying to keep him healthy. But mentally, he's unstoppable."

Unlike San Diego, where seal and shark sightings aren't uncommon, there are few "natural" dangers in the Channel, other than jellyfish. "The biggest hazard is the shipping traffic, which is ridiculous," said Lee.

"You're really trusting the Channel federation guys to know their route and know the boat traffic and let everyone know we're there," Soracco said. "Those tankers, they don't even see you. Those things are immense."

Kate, meanwhile, admits she knew exactly what she was getting into when she embarked on a life with Lee. "I actually asked him to marry me," she said. "When I met Davis, I knew this type of adventure, doing something that some people might consider out of the ordinary, that was him. To take away his ability to do any of that would be to take away Davis. It would have been signing up to be with someone else."

"People keep asking whether I am nervous, but I'm not. Both Davis and I grew up on the ocean. We both have a deep respect for the ocean, and having that understanding and respect for the ocean really makes me comfortable with him doing it."

She may not see her husband swim firsthand, though. She'll be seven months pregnant by late September, and she doesn't want to be a distraction on the pilot boat. If not, she and Oliver will be waiting in Calais. "I want all of Davis's concentration and energy to be focused on the swim," she said. "Even if I'm totally fine, I don't want people to be concerned about me on the boat. I want them all to be focused on Davis."

Concentration is key. While fewer than 1,200 swimmers have made crossing, thousands have failed.

"I want to finish, first and foremost," Lee said. "Assuming I do that, I would like to do it under 12 hours, and I would be ecstatic with a time under 10 hours."

Lee said he's not sure if he's prepared for the San Andreas-type shift that his life will take once he completes the crossing. There's the young family's new addition, a daughter, due to arrive on Nov. 14, to consider. Plus, the family bank account will need time to recover (Lee estimates the swim, from start to finish, will cost between $15,000 and $20,000).

"It'll be weird when it's all over, just because so much of our life has been focused on the swim for so long," said Kate Lee. "But so much of our life has been focused on this for so long that we're also excited for it to finally happen."

As for the immediate future, there's likely to be a glass of champagne, or maybe a shot of tequila, to be shared on the shores of northern France.

To follow Lee's Channel adventures, visit his web site at SharkyTreat.com, or his blog at sharkytreat.blogspot.com.

FINIS

Sidebar 1
In the boat

Davis Lee won't be adrift alone when he attempts to cross the English Channel.

For safety, and verification, every official Channel swimmer must hire a pilot boat. Lee rented a boat from the Channel Swimming & Piloting Federation, the second of two sanctioning groups, to escort him through the Strait of Dover. Typically, the boat is a 35- to 40-foot fishing vessel, and the pilot helps navigate the waters, communicates with other boats, and often provides "encouragement."

Lee's coach Andrew Soracco said he'll play second fiddle to pilot Lance Oram in the cheerleading department. In 2003, Soracco took another swimmer, Sybil Fisher, to the Channel. Oram's father, Michael, was the pilot, and he didn't mince words when Fisher faltered in the heavy chop.

"His basic concept is, 'If you've got enough energy to complain, you've got enough energy to keep swimming. So, shut up and swim!' That's his motto," said Soracco. "Now we've got his son, Lance, and they share the same philosophy."

Meanwhile, Soracco will concentrate on keeping Lee's engine running. To fuel his Channel effort, Lee will rely on training drinks and energy gels, plus the occasional banana. Soracco will prepare a regimen of drinks and gels (and bananas) that he'll relay to Lee by way of a Tupperware container duct-taped to a rope.

"It's really high tech," said Soracco, laughing. "We spared no expense."

Competitive swimmers, on average, burn between 800 and 900 calories an hour, said Soracco. Open-water swimmers, who must also generate heat to combat the cold, consume more than 1,100 calories an hour, meaning Lee can expect to expend more than 11,000 calories during his effort. That's especially important since English Channel crossing rules don't permit wetsuits.

Still, those limitations don't faze Lee. "I'm a purist," he said. "I'll wear a swimsuit, cap, and goggles. That's it. Those are the rules. A wetsuit doesn't count. I plan to abide by those rules."

Sidebar 2
Big Red Numbers

2 – Number of sanctioning bodies that govern "official" Channel crossings, the Channel Swimming & Piloting Federation and the Channel Swimming Association.
43 – Number of crossings by the Queen of the Channel, Alison Streeter (United Kingdom)
34 – Number of crossings by the King of the Channel, Kevin Murphy (United Kingdom)
6:57:50 – Time (in hours, minutes, and seconds) of the fastest recorded solo crossing, by Petar Stoychev (Bulgaria) in 2007
7:25 – Time (in hours and minutes) of the fastest recorded solo female crossing, by Yvetta Hlavacova (Czech Republic) in 2006
26:50 – Time (in hours and minutes) of the longest solo crossing, by Henry Sullivan (United States) in 1923
70 years, 4 days – Age of the oldest man to cross, George Brunstad (United States, in a time of 15:59)
60 years, 10 months, 4 days – Age of the oldest woman to cross, Linda Ashmore (United Kingdom, in a time of 15:11)
11 years, 11 months – Age of the youngest person to cross, Thomas Gregory (United Kingdom, in a time of 11:54)
12 years, 118 days – Age of the youngest girl to cross, Samatha Druce (United Kingdom, in a time of 15:27)
Source: The Channel Swimming & Piloting Federation (channelswimming.net)

Everyday epics!

Today's "revelations" about disgraced pro cyclist Floyd Landis and his overdue doping admissions got me thinking about a popular topic of mine, which is: We spend far too much time and energy (and ink) on "celebrity" athletes, and not nearly enough on everyday athletes. People like you and me! About a dozen years ago, when I first jumped into the freelance biz full-time, I did some work for a magazine called Outdoor Explorer. It was a first-rate publication, with a great tag line: "Real Adventure for Real People." Unfortunately, Outdoor Explorer didn't realize enough of a profit, and was sadly relegated to the scrap heap. But I've always loved the idea that people, while enjoying the vicarious thrill of reading about Mount Everest and other far-flung adventures, also really appreciate stories about events they can actually do themselves. Luckily, my good friend and editor Brian Cook at Pace Communications allowed me to do this piece for Toyota Connections magazine.

"Me Against Me"
For weekend athletes yearning to put body and spirit to the test like never before, it may be time to consider an “everyday epic”

I hear the finish line before I see it. A thick fog shrouds the rocky summit of New Hampshire’s 6,288-foot Mount Washington, the Northeast’s highest peak. I’ve been pedaling my bike, uphill, nonstop, through horizontal rain and nasty winds, for two hours, and my oxygen-depleted brain is wandering into dangerous places. Most of the 600 competitors in the annual Auto Road Hillclimb have finished, and many were on the roadside, cheering on the stragglers—like me.

With a final, excruciating sprint up a 22 percent incline over the last 100 yards, I teeter across the line. My wife, Lauri, and my two girls run to greet me. Eight-year-old Maddi flings her arms around my neck with unmitigated joy, while 6-year-old Brynne, worried that I'd been blown off the mountain, bursts into tears.

Those starkly incongruous reactions are a microcosm of my day, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

I’ve knocked off another task on my “Life’s ‘To Do’ List” and, now that it’s done, the accomplishment trumps all the suffering. I pull Brynne close, and tell her, “Don’t worry, honey. Daddy will ride much faster when we come back…next year.”

Lauri looks stunned. She shouldn’t be. This isn’t the first time she’s witnessed my suspect behavior. There was the Flint Hills Death Ride in eastern Kansas: five-plus hours pedaling more than 60 miles under a scorching sun. Or the eight hours of misery slogging through torrential rains and more than 8,000 feet of climbing during the Vermont 50 mountain bike race. Or the shoulder-searing task of The Blackburn Challenge, rowing 20 miles of open ocean around Massachusetts’ Cape Ann.

Each time, I swore I’d never do that to myself again. Inevitably, I do. Probably because I always end the day with a twisted, satisfied smile, and an unmatched sense of exhilaration. That’s what these “everyday epics” can do to people. Which is why you should try one.

Every weekend warrior dreams of a moment in the sun, of overcoming overwhelming obstacles. Whether your personal affliction is paddling, pedaling or running, there are events that will lay bare your fitness, your resolve, even your joie de vivre.

Laura Lavoie of Boulder, Colorado, was a competitive trail runner and mountain bike racer and a veteran of seven off-road marathons when two ruptured discs forced her to undergo spinal fusion surgery. Undaunted, Lavoie’s rehab pointed her to the infamous Leadville 100, a punishing off-road mountain bike race that starts at 10,000 feet, and climbs above 13,000. In the thin air of Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, Lavoie found a renewed focus.

“A few people really wanted to win it, but for the most part, everyone was out there saying ‘We’re going to do this for ourselves,’” says Lavoie, now 38. “For me, it was very much a proving point to say, ‘I can come back and I can do this.’ I don’t have to do it in a way that measures me against anybody else. It just measures me against me, and where I want to be.”

Though often disparaged, the “no pain, no gain” adage has merit. There’s something compelling about putting your body and spirit to the test, to see what their limits might be, and that typically invites suffering. But there’s also the undeniable endorphin rush of taxing your limbs—and surviving intact. The subsequent sense of achievement can be both sublime and spectacular. And addicting.

“These are iconic events,” says 34-year-old Nathan Rafferty, president of SkiUtah and a veteran of Mount Washington and the Leadville 100.

"It’s you against the course, and it’s the same course every year. It’s something you can go back and measure yourself against,” agrees Boston lawyer and cyclist Thomas Durkin. "I always wanted to run a marathon, but couldn’t, and I thought climbing Mount Washington would be the next most miserable thing,” he laughs. “This is a challenge, and for an aging athlete, those get fewer and fewer.”

That explains why almost two-thirds of the Mount Washington field is 40 or older. Durkin, 45 and a father of three boys, had hiked Mount Washington, and even skied the peak’s legendary Tuckerman Ravine. But the Hillclimb presented a unique trial. “Nobody’s getting any gold medals,” he says. “The goal is really to go home and have your kids say, ‘Dad, you kicked tail. While your pals just played 18 holes of golf, you biked up Mount Washington.’”

Need more reasons to try one of these epic events? First, most have a good-cause “beneficiary,” such as the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation for the annual American Birkebeiner cross-country ski marathon in Wisconsin. So there’s the consolation of knowing you’re helping others while you battle fatigue and leg cramps. Second is adventure. Many events are held in spectacular settings, from Vermont’s foliage-dappled hillsides to northern California’s Muir Woods, site of America’s oldest cross-country running race, the Dipsea.

There can also be the “guilty pleasure” draw, racing on trails or terrain that are normally off-limits. The Mount Washington Auto Road, for example, is only open to cyclists on race day in August (and a single practice run in July). Plus, you’ll meet hundreds of new friends who share your particular lunacy.

Finally, these events provide that all-too-elusive element for middle-age athletes: motivation. “They give you a goal for the season,” says Rafferty. “Every time you hop on your bike, you’re thinking, ‘I’d better push myself 10 percent harder, because I know Mount Washington is coming down the pike.’”

Dr. Penny Beach knows. A family physician in Boise, Idaho, the 40-year-old Beach targeted the Race to Robie Creek half-marathon when she decided to return to running. “I’ve never been a couch potato, but I was in less-than-ideal shape after I had my second child” she says. “Having an event as a goal definitely makes it much easier to train.” Not surprisingly, Beach strongly advocates pre-regimen physicals, heart-rate monitors and training partners for anyone looking to resume a more active lifestyle.

Ultimately, it’s all about having fun, and a chance to learn something about ourselves. That’s why I’m going back to Mount Washington this summer.

FINIS

Stand up in style

Here's my latest for Men's Fitness magazine, a piece on top Stand Up Paddling destinations. The published piece can be found here. The unabridged version is below. Many thanks to Luke Hopkins, founder of Ridestride.com, makers of Stride Stand Up Paddleboards, for the accompanying photo of the serene Potomac River outside Washington, DC!

Stand up in style

Stand Up Paddling is taking the water world by storm, and for good reason. It's a terrific full-body workout, it's versatile, and it bleeds adventure. But not everyone is ready to tackle Skookunchuck Narrows, British Columbia's massive tidal bore and one of the world's premier paddle spots, right out of the gates. Get acclimated to this emerging sport at any one of these top-notch locations. All have a variety of conditions, from flat water to whitewater, great amenities, and access to rentals and lessons. Then book a flight to BC.

Oahu, Hawaiian Islands
The Hawaiian Islands are a haven for paddleboarders, but one stands above the rest. "Oahu is a must paddle destination," says Liam Wilmott of C4 Waterman. "It is the birthplace of this sport." Long before Stand Up Paddling became the rage, the "Waikiki beach boys" would row their huge surfboards using outrigger canoe paddles to take photos of tourists, says Wilmott. Every side of Oahu is accessible in less than an hour's drive, and the conditions cater to every level of paddler, from the burly waves of the North Shore, the gentle rollers of Waikiki, and the quick downwind runs on the eastern and southern shores. Resources: C4 Waterman (c4waterman.com)

Summersville Lake, West Virginia
The Gauley River and New River Gorge get the lion's share of the whitewater press here, but a few miles to the north is a superb spot for novice paddlers. Summersville Lake was created by one of the world's largest earthen dams, and the water here is like silk. Even better, the surrounding walls are a rock climber's dream. "When they built the dam, they mined the walls of the lake, creating these enormous cliffs, all around the lake. It's incredibly photogenic, a really beautiful place," says Luke Hopkins, founder of Ridestride.com, makers of Stride Stand Up Paddleboards. "I've gone there, paddleboarding, and then free climbed the cliffs above the water. It's a very cool experience." More advanced paddlers can measure their skills against the rambunctious New River below the dam. Resources: Summersville Lake Retreat (summersvillelakeretreat.com)

Glenwood Canyon, Colorado
In whitewater circles, the Colorado River needs no introduction, with myriad conditions and unrivaled opportunities for two- and three-night trips as it rumbles through Colorado and Utah. But the 18-mile section running through Glenwood Canyon, just west of Vail, is especially attractive, due to its variety and predictable flow (thanks to the scheduled releases from the Shoshone Hydroelectric Dam). "It's the ultimate spot," says Ken Hoeve, a Surftech-sponsored rider. "You've got everything from Class II to Class V rapids in a five-mile stretch below the dam, and everything in the four miles above it is flat." The slow-moving lake is ideal for novices just starting out, and pro-level paddlers looking to train. Easy access right off Interstate 70, breathtaking scenery, and a phenomenal head-high, river-wide surf wave in Glenwood are three more reasons to visit. Resources: Colorado Kayak Supply (coloradokayak.com), Alpine Quest Sports (alpinquestsports.com)

Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, Maryland
Situated in the heart of Chesapeake Bay crab country, on Maryland's eastern shores, the Blackwater Refuge is a paddler's utopia. Encompassing more than 25,000 acres, the refuge is a major stop on the Atlantic Flyway, guaranteeing paddlers an intimate look at waterfowl, as well as osprey and eagles. They'll also find a remarkable marshland ecosystem with countless paths criss-crossing the tidal marches, all begging to be explored. "It's really remote," says Hopkins. "And you have all these slow-moving channels that go all over the place, with blue crabs swimming under the boards, bluefish chasing softshell crabs." The refuge also features camping platforms for overnight stays, and guided canoe trips that paddlers can accompany. Resources: Easton Cycle and Sport (eastoncycleandsport.com).

Mission Bay and Dana Point, California
San Diego's Mission Bay is the Left Coast's answer to Blackwater, with its protected harbor surrounded by massive refuge. Mission Bay Park is the country's largest man-made aquatic park, at 4,235 acres. "Mission Bay is huge, but feels like a little slice of paradise," says Ryan Levinson (ryanlevinson.com), a C-4 Waterman ambassador. "You can paddle a small loop of four miles, or a big loop of almost 12 miles." During summer, Levinson recommends a moonlight paddle to catch the fireworks at nearby SeaWorld. For variety, check out Dana Point farther north. Both have quiet harbors with easy access to the ocean, without the surf swell that can make paddling precarious, and plenty of parking (helping paddlers avoid a long trek with their gear). Resources: Aqua Adventures (aqua-adventures.com) in Mission Bay, Westwind Sailing Center (westwindsailing.com) in Dana Point.

Dayton, Ohio
The Madd River translates to mad fun in this Midwest city, thanks to a dazzling, arching fountain network that erupts with the regularity of Old Faithful. This slow-moving river flows through an impressive man-made riverscape, highlighted by five giant fountains in an enormous pentagon shape that send sprays of water the length of a football field. "It is by far one of the coolest places to paddleboard, because you can paddle in the midst of some of the world's largest fountains," says Hopkins. "I was there at sunset. There was this beautiful glow in the sky, and when the fountains started, everything turned to mist. Then, 10 minutes later, it all goes silent. I wanted to wait another 50 minutes just to experience it again." Works for us. Resources: Whitewater Warehouse in Dayton (kayakdayton.com)

Potomac River, Washington, DC
Even Republicans and Democrats can agree that our nation's capital is becoming a hotbed for Stand Up Paddling, thanks to the Potomac, an old, Eastern-style river with smooth rocks and a number of standing waves that are ideal for the beginning surfer. The showcase setting is the Potomac tidal basin, which meanders through the capital district, giving paddlers an inimitable view of several historic sights, including the Jefferson Memorial and the National Mall. Another unique venue is the Cheasapeake & Ohio Canal National Historic Park, a 184-mile waterway running from Georgetown to western Maryland. Resources: Potomac Paddlesports (potomacpaddlesports.com)

FINIS

Pack it up ...

One of the best things about being a writer covering the "great outdoors" and "lifetime sports" is that I'm constantly learning about new gear and new pursuits. I recently did a fun story on packrafts for Men's Fitness magazine. The published version can be found here. Below is the unabridged version.

Whitewater rafting, solo-style

The packraft is so elegant, so versatile – so damn useful! – it's puzzling that it hasn't taken off sooner. It is, in essence, is a white-water raft built for one. Lightweight, nimble, rugged and portable, the go-anywhere do-everything packraft is "the whitewater equivalent to the mountain bike," says Roman Dial.

"It's so simple, so stable and forgiving," says Dial, a professor at Alaska Pacific University who literally wrote the book on packrafting (see sidebar). "It really put the joy back into boating. There's this big group of people who just want to paddle their own boat, and they want to do something new and fun."

The concept, like so many adventure-related brainstorms, has its roots in the wilds of Alaska. Dial has been packrafting since the early 1980s, when he and his friends ran adventure races between villages. They needed to cross water, but canoes and kayaks were too unwieldy. They first made due with earlier models such as World War II surplus emergency rafts once used by fighter pilots, and then superior but short-lived boats produced by American Safety, which was absorbed by Sherpa Snowshoes. When Sherpa stopped producing their rafts, Dial and his cronies "nursed our Sherpas along for about 10 years."

Then, a decade ago, a college student, Thor Tingey, went for a post-graduate jaunt across the Brooks Range in Alaska. His inferior raft got shredded. Thor's mom, Sheri, a former river runner and gear manufacturer, knew she could build something better. Drawing on the expertise of other rafters, she did, and the modern-day packraft was born. "All these earlier boats were designed to float on a lake, not run a river," said Sheri Tingey. "But if you want to make the backcountry accessible, you've got to be able to run rivers."

Tingey's Alpacka packrafts are now the industry standard. These boats are equally at home on the lake as the river, and can handle whitewater ranging up to Class IV and beyond in the hands of a skilled paddler. They boast dual air chambers encased by a tough-as-nails polyurethane-coated nylon covering, an upturned bow and, for rough water, a spray deck. Best of all, they weigh less than many backpacks. While researching her design, Tingey said paddlers insisted on two things. "Everyone said, 'I don't care what I have to spend, I just don't want to fix another tear.' And they said they didn't mind carrying five pounds, but they didn't want to carry much more than that."

"I absolutely agree with that. I'm the ounce-Nazi here. I keep chopping stuff off," she says. "At the same time, you can't sacrifice the integrity or the sturdiness that you've built in. People are really counting on those boats to get them down the river and get them home."

The result is a hand-made, easy-to-use solo raft that can withstand the rigors of whitewater without creating a burden on your shoulders. "One of these little Alpackas, you can actually fold up, put it into a fanny pack and wear it on your waist," says Dial, who is not affiliated with the company. Even with a paddle, throw rope, wet suit (or dry suit), a personal flotation device and helmet, the total weight penalty is still minimal. "If you're set up to run Class III whitewater, in cold water like Alaska or springtime in New England, all your stuff will weigh between 15 and 20 pounds," says Dial. "That's everything, and it's still less than the lightest inflatable kayak, which goes about 17 pounds."

Though Alpackas are pricey, at a shade under $800 (plus $200 for a spray deck), Tingey says she had no choice if she were to produce a truly lightweight, durable craft. "My goal was to build a $300 packraft, but there was no way," she says. "There's no difference between a $300 boat and a $69.95 Wal-Mart special. When you look at cheap boats, sometimes the fabric tears, but a lot of times the seams just fall apart."

The packraft is as utilitarian as it is convenient, allowing paddlers to get deeper into the woods, while carrying a bevy of gear for extra outdoor pursuits. In the winter, that could be skis, snowshoes, or ice climbing gear. In the summer, think rock climbing, camping, bouldering, mountain biking, even fishing (a favorite is a Japanese method of fly-fishing called "tenkara," which employs a rod but no reel).

"I see packrafting as a wilderness travel opportunity to get me off of my feet," says Ryan Jordan, CEO of Backpacking Light in Montana. "A group of friends and I completed a 100-plus-mile traverse of the Bob Marshall Wilderness this summer by foot and packraft. By the time we are at Mile 50, we'd only walked eight miles – we packrafted the rest – so by the time we started the mountaineering portion of our trek, we were acclimated, fit, and had light packs from the food weight we lost. And, we felt like we were starting the hardest, and remotest, part of the trek on fresh feet."

Though few outfitters offer packraft trips at the moment, these craft are on their radar. "I bet you, within five to 10 years, you'll see more and more trips with one guide, and two or three little ducklings coming along behind them," Dial says "Instead of piling a bunch of people into a big boat who need to go down a Class III or Class IV river to feel some excitement, outfitters can put customers in their own boats, send them down Class II, and they'll be in control of their own boats, and they're going to be having the time of their life, because they're running whitewater on their own."

SIDEBARS

Choice Raft: The Alpacka "Alpaca" – Light, durable, and responsive in turbulent whitewater ($790; four pounds, six ounces; alpackaraft.com).

Choice Paddle: The Sawyer Packraft Paddle – Adjustable, light, reliable, and packable ($270; 29 ounces).

Top Destinations: Remote – The Thorofare River, Bridger-Teton Wilderness, Wyoming. Urban – The Deerfield River, Massachusetts (near the Boston-New York-DC Metropolitan Belt) Fly-fishing – The South Fork Flathead River, Bob Marshall Wilderness, Montana. Rock-climbing – The New River Gorge, West Virginia. Multi-day – The Brooks Range, Alaska.

The Bible: "Packrafting! An Introduction & How-To Guide," by Roman Dial.

Learn more: Bozeman-based Backpacking Light, founded by Ryan Jordan, offers packraft classes for beginning and advanced paddlers alike. The company also sell Dial's book. Further both Jordan and Dial pen extensive blogs on the topic, Simplifatico (ryanjordan.com) and The Roaming Dials (packrafting.blogspot.com), respectively.

FINIS

Running the Baja

In honor of that wacky, reckless (though not without wrecks) ode to internal combustion -- the Baja 1000 -- held every November along Mexico's rugged western coastline, Men's Fitness asked me to do a story on my own four-day white-knuckle ride with the gang at Maverick Business Adventures and Wide Open Baja. You can check it out, with a slew of photos, in the November issue, or read it online here. The unedited version is below.

Dust to glory

I've got the gas pedal pegged to the floor. My co-driver Rich Bellofatto, a finance guy from Long Island, is screaming above the din of the high-torque 240-horsepower engine: "Punch it! Punch it!" Our 3000-pound Baja racer jerks into the tracks of the fine Mexican silt like a spastic slot car. My chest slams into a five-point harness that keeps me from getting jettisoned, while the steering wheel threatens to tear away from my grip. Finally, we lurch out the other side of this talcum pit, our rig covered in what our guide describes as "liquid dirt." My heart is pounding like a jackhammer. Bellofatto flashes a mega-watt smile. "Nicely done," he says.

This, in the world of Wide Open Baja, is what passes for a day at the office. And that office is found right along the route of the famed Baja 1000 race. Legendary racer Rufus "Parnelli" Jones once described this south-of-the-border demolition derby, held every November, as a "24-hour plane crash." Jones, a two-time Baja 1000 winner, wasn't kidding. This crazed mix of high-octane fuel, rubber and corrugated dirt roads through one of the world's most diverse desert environments is an eye-popping experience. And it's no "reality show" – it's real.

"Wide Open Baja is the only company I've worked with that gives you enough rope to hang yourself," says guide Andrea Tomba, warning against overconfidence. "It's easy to go from really fun to really wrong at 60 miles an hour. Baja is the temptress. She'll seduce you, and then she'll spurn you."

Seduction comes easily behind the wheel of a full-blown Baja racer boasting almost two feet of suspension per wheel. But unlike schools based on NASCAR or even drag racing, we're motoring along public roads (though the term "road" is applied rather loosely), not a racetrack. The terrain is spectacular but rugged, with hidden dangers, ranging from precipitous ravines and toe-curling switchbacks to suicide cattle, lurking around each corner or rise. We even took these burly buggies on the highways, and into cities like La Paz (when "ordinary" vehicles were forced to stop at speed bumps, our 20-inches of suspension allowed us to hit them at 40 mph). As Tomba said: "There aren't many places that will let a bunch of lunatics like us drive on public roads in race cars."

Talk about immersion. After a brief walk-through of the cockpit, I slid into the driver's seat, not with an instructor beside me, but with another Baja neophyte. In short, the driver is immediately and completely accountable for a $120,000 racing rig (each accident – flat tire, ruined transmission, dead cow – comes with a $3000 deductible). The co-pilot is no idle passenger, but a vested partner. The race cars are equipped with GPS units and radios, and the co-pilot is responsible, when he's not hanging on for dear life, for alerting the car behind about upcoming hazards (which have been sent down from the lead, or guide, car). It's a high-stakes version of the old telephone game, where incorrect instructions can send cars hurtling off the road. Key facts must be conveyed precisely and quickly. It doesn't take long to learn who in the group is a good communicator, and who can get you hurt, says Todd Clement, Wide Open's founder and a Baja veteran.

The driver, meanwhile, is trying to process all this information while keeping a 3,000-pound beast under control barreling along at breakneck speed. The most comical comment, in hindsight, was Tomba telling us: "It's not a race. We'll see some beautiful areas. Look around. Enjoy it." Those words came back to me again and again as I desperately tried to keep up with the wicked pace set by Tomba, especially after several mechanical problems put our group behind schedule. One leisurely glance to take in the surroundings could have been disastrous.

Still, once comfortable with the pitch and sway that comes with plenty of suspension on these washed-out "roads," you can really open up these rigs. Chasing the car in front of us, Bellofatto and I spent as much time in the air as we did on terra firma. "You just can't describe the feeling you get while you're screaming through the desert at 80 miles an hour, surrounded by walls of killer cactus 15 feet high, and hitting jumps that would crack a Hummer in half," says Mike Dillard of Austin, TX.

The next day we all jabbed the gas pedal a bit harder, trusting the cars to do what they were designed to do. At the end of Day Two, when we motored into Scorpion Bay under the cover of darkness, I was spent. My helmet and clothes sported a thick layer of grime. My shoulders throbbed from smashing against the harness, and my right knee had a big purple welt where it repeatedly smacked a T-bar handle designed to provide the co-pilot some stability. My midsection was battered. No, this is not a pastime for the faint of heart, or faint of wallet (tour prices vary; plan on spending $1,000 per day). But the price of admission, whether financial or physical, is well worth it. When a Wide Open staffer handed me an ice-cold Pacifico, I was grinning like a kid.

For details on Wide Open Baja, visit wideopenbaja.com or call 949-635-2292.