Wet But Not Too Wild

Inflatable kayaking offers portable paddling for those lacking storage space.

By: Susan Van Dongen

PHOTOS BY BRYAN GRIGSBY AND SUSAN VAN DONGEN

TimeOFF writer Susan Van Dongen holds up the deflated boat.

Susan’s husband pumps air into the kayak.

   We keep our yacht in the closet.
   It’s in there behind the winter coats and boots, old Army uniforms,
various and sundry musical instruments and empty appliance boxes my husband saved
and swears we will use again. My husband, Bryan, would put our vessel back in
its box if he could, but we have never been able to fold it up quite neatly enough
for that.
   Well, OK, it’s not a yacht. It’s an inflatable kayak, just the
right size for an intimate paddle around the local waters and just the right level
of difficulty for a couple of non-athletic bookworms. It’s not extreme, but then
again, we’re not extreme.
   A few weeks ago, we saw much more serious kayakers riding "a
great squirt-line" (kayaking lingo for a fast-moving chute of water) near Scudders
Falls on the Delaware River after a heavy rainfall. They had crash helmets, noseplugs
and special gear to keep the water out of their kayaks when they did underwater
twirls and dips. They were all guys.
   We tried to talk to them about kayaking.
   "We have a kayak too," we said. "It’s inflatable."
   They laughed at us.
   We admit we can’t shoot the squirt-line like they do, but we
didn’t have to go out and buy all that special gear. And did I mention we can
put our kayak away in the closet? It’s a great selling point for two apartment
dwellers who lack decent indoor storage and have none at all outdoors.
   Since moving from Philadelphia, we had looked longingly at the
Crosswicks Creek and Delaware River, watching kayakers and canoers drop their
boats in the water and head off past Pointe Breeze toward the Hamilton-Trenton
marsh, or even out into the river. It looked easy so we discussed buying a kayak
or canoe.
    We knew we couldn’t store it outside at our apartment complex.
We also couldn’t envision how to transport the vessel without a special roof rack
for the car.
   It wasn’t until we saw a man happily paddle up to the launch
at Bordentown beach, pull his kayak onto the land and proceed to deflate it, fold
it up and put it in his trunk. No roof rack, no fuss, no muss.
   It all looked so effortless, so systematic, so portable. My
husband set upon him like a rabid Rottweiler. "Where did you get that?" Bryan
demanded. "I want one."
   That’s when we learned there were great inflatable kayaks at
fairly reasonable prices. They can be purchased at large sporting goods stores
that sell camping, outdoor, fishing and boating gear. Or you can buy them directly
from the manufacturers online.
   Bryan came home one day with the whole set-up. He found an inflatable
kayak at Harry’s Army and Navy in Robbinsville — a Sevylor Tahiti HF, 10-feet-7-inches
long, made of rugged PVC fabric, with a rigid I-beam floor, two spray decks and
two inflatable seats. It also came with a hand pump to inflate it. In addition,
we bought some paddles, personal flotation devices and a handy duffel bag to store
everything in. The grand total was under $250, not bad considering regular kayaks
start at an average of $299 and go up from there.
   "Sevylor’s Tahiti is the kayak against which all others are
measured," the words on the box claimed. It showed people taking other vessels
in its extensive line of inflatable kayaks through river rapids in the Rocky Mountains
region, floating between chunks of ice in the Alaskan wilderness, even paddling
alongside sharks. We didn’t want to do any of this — just poke around the
local waters, get a little exercise and tell everyone, yes, we had a boat.
   The first day out was challenging. We argued whether the pump
would inflate all the sections of the boat, or whether my husband needed to do
mouth-to-mouth on the valve for the spray deck (he didn’t). We debated about whether
it was, indeed, pumped up enough to be seaworthy. We discussed which one of us
would sit where and whether we should both paddle or if he should take care of
that duty while I navigated.
   Our first mistake was putting in at low tide with a very strong
current, which pulled us in the opposite direction of where we wanted to go. A
friend later told us the best time to go kayaking in the creek is at the height
of high tide or the slack tide just before the current changes.
   Used to a canoe, we were paddling wrong and ended up working
against each other, first going in a circle then just drifting backward with the
current.
   "Here, give me that," Bryan snorted. "I’ll paddle."
   He took my paddle and attached it to his with the telescoping
device, dipped it into the water vigorously, splashing and hitting me on the head.
   Another mistake — don’t hit your wife in the head with
a paddle or anything, ever.
   Also, don’t try too hard. We learned that propelling a kayak
takes rhythmic, smooth strokes. It’s different than moving a canoe through the
water.

Susan enjoying the inflatabe kayak.

   This was not working the way it was supposed to, and Bryan was
grumbling as he tried to move us in the right direction. Plus the wind was against
us. This is one disadvantage of the inflatable boat. Since it has less weight
than a regular kayak, it gets blown by the wind more easily.
   So be it, we were going backwards. I tried to enjoy the sunshine
and a flotilla of baby ducks that passed us. We floated near a sandbar where people
had set up picnics, complete with lawn chairs, cases of food and beverage and
romping dogs.
   One wise guy came out in the creek and grabbed the bow. I noticed
he was in knee-deep water. I’m wearing a personal flotation device on a 100-degree
day so I won’t drown in a foot-and-a-half of water, I thought to myself.
   "The river’s that way," he said, chuckling.
   That was early last summer. Since then our skills have increased.
Getting the gear together, inflating the boat and putting it in the water takes
only 15 or 20 minutes. Bryan still insists on doing mouth-to-mouth with the valves
on the spray deck, but perhaps he just enjoys it.
   We’ve been taking it very easy, though, putting our kayak in
bodies of water like the lake at Mercer County Park where we don’t have to negotiate
the current. The last time was over the 4th of July holiday weekend on a hot,
dry, windy day. The lake was the perfect place to be because once we were out
there, the wind cooled us as it blew over the water, providing just enough chop
to have some fun bobbing up and down. We even rode a few miniature waves.
   Other boaters or passersby seem surprised when they see the
inflatable kayak, and a few have asked where they could find one. Last time out,
we saw an inflatable vessel equipped with a small motor.
   We’re certain we’ll eventually get good enough to go down Crosswicks
and other creeks and rivers. The Delaware & Raritan Canal is a destination.
I also want to try it in the bay or lagoon on one of our shore vacations, since
the specifications say our boat is strong enough to withstand salt water and lots
of sun.
   When our voyages are over we pull the kayak ashore, deflate
it, wipe it down and stash it and the other gear in the trunk of the car. All
of which goes back in the closet.
   Then it’s off to the next adventure — non-extreme, naturally.



The Tahiti HF is part of Sevylor’s extensive fleet of inflatable kayaks. The
vessel retails for about $137 at Harry’s Army and Navy, 691 Route 130, Robbinsville.
For information, call (609) 585-5450. On the Web: www.harrys.com.
Sevylor on the Web: www.sevylor.com