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.