How to Park your Kayak
It may seem like a simple thing, unlikely to be of real import. You just park it. But a trip this spring got me thinking that more needs to be said.
Kayakers almost ready to slide into the Jarbidge river.
How you park your boat matters. There can be penalties for poor parking, not the least of which is lost boats. That’s what happened.
He was right there when I rolled up with blood streaming down my face after a rock blow to the forehead. He met my eyes looking alarmed. Knowing I was bleeding I beelined it for an eddy, got out of my kayak and applied direct pressure to the wound while my friends rounded up supplies to patch me up. Meanwhile the paddler who’d looked in my eyes was in shock from seeing my bloody face. He’d hovered for a short while in a scanty eddy, then went over the next horizon and around the corner—alone—in search of a better place to wait.
He didn’t park his kayak very well. Most of the time when someone parks poorly, it’s because they’re tired or stressed. Blood and solo boating count as stressors. When stressed it pays to take that extra moment, an extra breath, whatever you need to do things right.
It took a while to get my face to stop bleeding. The paddler that had gone around the corner hiked back upstream to monitor the situation, then hiked downstream when it became apparent we were ready to head out. When he got back down to his parking spot his kayak was gone. It had slid into the river and was suctioned onto the left bank in a steep-walled eddy.
It didn’t stay there. What the river giveth it can take away. Another kayaker paddled over to secure it and the wave he caused made the boat come free and slip around the corner, straight into the Kilchis River gorge. I was checking in with someone on shore hoping that others would chase the boat, because I’d just hit my head pretty good, but nobody was going, so I peeled out.
Alan came with me and the two of us gave chase. We managed to shove the kayak into an eddy halfway down the gorge and climbed out to empty it. I towed it through the bottom drops of the gorge to a cobble bar where we hoped its paddler could reach.
But the bank was steep and the owner of the lost boat could not see where we were stopped. The road was well above, and he had hiked too far downstream. People started blowing whistles so he could locate us. I caught an eddy across the river where he could see me, and motioned him to come back our way. He was already quite exerted from repeated attempts to find a way down into the gorge.
One of our crew found a fixed rope at the upstream end of the cobble bar. She climbed up it to the top of the steep bench and chirped on her whistle until the lost paddler got to her, and they made a rope-assisted descent to the river without incident. Unfortunately our paddler who’d lost his boat was beat from bushwhacking through Oregon’s coastal rainforest, so we took a reasonably long break before heading out again.
The head injury caused the stress, and then a hastily parked boat caused an extended rescue challenge.
So, what counts as a well-parked boat? That depends a lot on the craft in question. For the moment Iet’s talk about hardshell boats, kayaks and canoes. Hardshells are slippery so we can seal launch them into the water. They are also prone to sliding when we don’t want them to. Parking them well requires careful placement so they don’t go anywhere by accident, but also so that you can put yourself together on shore then slide back in.
When you get out of your boat, empty it if needed, then drag it up by the stern and position it so it’s facing the water in a location where you can slide back in. Facing the water is key: it’s easier to put on a sprayskirt when it’s not uphill, and it’s a lot safer to slide in when you can see where you are going. I call this Quick Start capacity. You can get in the cockpit, seal the sprayskirt, and shove off. Parking your boat this way improves your readiness for rescues and chasing equipment.
The perfect parking spot is level-ish and stable enough that it won’t slide prematurely. Somebody might bump it, a surge of water might slap it, or the wind might come up. You also want the boat close enough to the edge that one solid push will start the boat sledding into the water. When you drag your boat up stern first, you can slide it back and forth in the rocks until you find that perfect spot.
You can’t always park pointing at the water, but you can figure out a slide path that will get you there. Sand is rotten for sliding on, and mud is worse, so I like rocks. You can often spot me sliding my boat back and forth on the rocks find the best spot to slide in from. The same technique works for finding the best part of an edge to seal launch over when portaging.
Before you leave your boat, get all the water out. Parking your kayak with the bow slightly downhill lets the water pool where you can sponge out the last drops. If you removed the drainplug, put it back in. If there is anything that needs adjusting, do that. Check your airbags and leave your boat shipshape and ready. If you’re at a rapid, grab your throwbag before leaving the boat.
The glorious thing about having stable parking is the ease of getting back in. You can burp your drysuit, stow your water bottle, ratchet your back band and put on your sprayskirt while you are solidly on shore. This eliminates the stress of swirly eddies and what to do with your paddle while you put on your skirt. You’ll be amazed how calm you feel when you add conscious parking to your routine.
Kayaker getting situated while on shore.
Some people think that if your boat looks stable it’s fair game to tie their boat to yours. If you’re with people like this, you might want to tie your boat to something solid, or park on the outskirts.
Sling your boat to a tree or boulder any time you’re parking for a night or more. High winds and rising water can happen without warning. For overnight stays I usually ‘biner my kayak to a tree using my handy webbing. The painters on canoes work the same.
Stories of lost boats are legion. On one Selway trip a kayak slid back into the eddy above Ladle while we were scouting. Luckily the next group showed up before it peeled out, and pulled it back up onto the rock. On the Bottom White Salmon I put down my kayak after doing the portage around Steelhead, then accidentally nudged it with my shin and watched it head downstream without me. That mistake required me to swim the gorge.
Rafts get away in Grand Canyon more often than you’d think. One escaped raft ran Lava with its hatches open, polypro drying on the shipped oars, and a pair of river shoes on the front deck—nothing moved. Rafters learn to attach every raft to shore and to the other rafts! And never to rely on a sandstake alone.
One time on the Middle Owyhee a gust of wind put a whole tent full of gear in the river, and an inebriated kayaker going for a Quick Start got in a kayak backwards (because the stern was towards the water) to give chase. It worked out, but you can see the potential for trouble. All manner of nonsense happens because of thoughtless parking.
You will enjoy the results when you park consciously! Take the time to do it right and you will be rewarded by the river gods.
