Mass Transit
The Michelin Man Goes Paddling
By Tamia Nelson
tamia@paddling.net
June 5, 2007
The Michelin Man has slimmed down over the
years, even if he still carries quite a few spare tires around with him.
He's in pretty good shape for his age, though. And just how old is he?
Do the math. He was born back in 1898, when Édouard Michelin
observed to his brother (and partner) André that a stack of bicycle
tires in different sizes looked remarkably like a human figure.
Édouard thought this was exactly the sort of corporate image the
brothers needed in their ads. It was a good call. Before long, the
Michelin Man was a familiar sight around the globe. He was soon
christened Bibendum, from the Latin toast Nunc est bibendum, or
"Down the hatch," supposedly because of Michelin tires' ability to
"drink up" bits of glass and sharp metal that stopped other makers'
tires cold. In any event, Bibendum is now one of the world's most widely
recognized trademarks.
What does all this have to do with canoeing and kayaking? That's easy.
I'll bet I'm not the only paddler who's gotten a mental picture of Bibendum
when squeezing into a wetsuit or paddling jacket at the start of the season.
Have you ever wondered what causes your clothes to shrink over the winter?
Me, too. But the phenomenon of "closet shrinkage" hasn't gotten much
attention from scientists, though I don't suppose we need to wait for this
mystery to be solved. Paddling is a one-size-fits-all sport. When you're on
the water, your boat carries the load. You still have to paddle, however, so
you're not exactly going along for the ride. Exercise without exhaustion
— it's the perfect combination. And what happens if the work of paddling
your own canoe sometimes gets hot and heavy? What then? No problem. When
you're in your boat, you're almost never more than a few minutes from a
cooling dip.
This is good news indeed for Michelin Men (and Women) everywhere. But
the word doesn't seem to be getting out. For one thing, the paddlers in
the catalog photos usually have the lean and hungry look of world-class
athletes. There's not a Michelin Man to be seen anywhere. Maybe that's
why we get letters from folks who are no longer lean (and who may not
have gone hungry for a while, either), wondering if they can get into
— or get back to — paddling. It's always a pleasure to reply.
In a world filled with intractable problems, this is a happy exception.
If you can hold a paddle, and if your doctor has no objection, you're
good to go. Moreover, if you paddle often enough, for long enough, you
may just discover that the image in your bathroom mirror no longer
resembles Bibendum. I'd call that a win-win scenario, wouldn't you?
Want a real-world example? Take Joe. If he'd lived in the late 19th
century, he could have been the model for the original Michelin Man. In other
words, he was no lightweight. But he was also one of the best whitewater
canoeists I've ever known. When he was starting out, he couldn't find a kayak
he could squeeze into. So he bought a short, beamy, highly rockered
canoe, instead: one of the early banana boats. Then he filled the ends with
float
bags, clipped a big bailer to a
thwart, and went paddling. And he didn't stay on Golden Pond. Joe joined up
with a pack of gonzo boaters. They were on the water from ice-out to
freeze-up,
challenging the gnarliest drops in New York and New England. Most of them
were kayakers. In fact, Joe's canoe was often the only open boat in the
bunch. But that didn't matter to him. He was an engineer. The way he saw it,
problems were just unrealized opportunities. When he couldn't find a wetsuit
big enough in any of the catalogs he looked at, he had one made to order
— and added half a dozen little touches that the readymade suits didn't
have. Soon he was paddling year-round, running everything the hardcore
hardshell boys ran. And before long he was leading the pack.
Luckily for me, that was exactly what he was doing one day in the Hudson
River Gorge when Farwell and I
fell afoul of Nemesis. It might well have been my last trip. But thanks
to Joe and his buddies, it was just another capsize. I
owe my life to the Michelin Man, in other words.
OK. How about it? Has your wardrobe suffered closet shrinkage over the
years? Is fear of fat keeping you off the water? Then take a hint from Joe:
Problems are just unrealized opportunities. Go for it. But …
Don't Go It Alone!
Joe didn't, after all. Neither should you. Solo
paddling is for experts only, and even experts sometimes make costly
mistakes. If you're just starting out — or if you're getting back into
paddling after a long time off the water, and you're not in the best of
condition — you won't want to go by yourself. Whitewater, in particular, is no place for a solitary
beginner. So before you get your feet wet, hook up with some
experienced paddlers. If you're lucky, you'll find paddling companions among
the people you work with, or among your friends or family. If not, however,
you'll have to look further afield. Paddling shops and outfitters are an
obvious first stop. Canoeing and kayaking clubs are another possibility. Some
clubs offer instructional weekends for non-members. Ask. There's no better
way to get acquainted. And then there are colleges and universities, many of
which have noncredit courses in canoeing or kayaking. Paddling.net can
help, too. Check out the "Getting Together & Going Paddling" message board.
Found some buddies? Good. Then you're ready to buy …
The Second Most Important Piece of Paddling Gear
What's the most important piece? A functioning brain-housing group,
combining a healthy stock of common sense, a minimum of ego, and a maximum of
critical judgment. Unfortunately, you can't buy any of this. You can
buy a life vest, however, and you should. To Coast Guard bureaucrats, it's a
Personal Flotation Device, or PFD, but to paddlers it's a life vest (or
life jacket). The reason should be obvious, and every paddler needs one. It's
your most personal piece of gear, your second skin on and in the water:
paddling, lining, tracking,
and wading. You'll even need to wear it when you scout a
river from shore. More than one paddler has slipped into the water while
leaning out over a drop. And you'll want it to fit like a second skin, too.
Back when Joe was starting out, Michelin Men and Women had few choices other
than the bulky Type I "Mae West" or the clumsy "horse-collar" (Type II PFD).
Times have changed, however. Today, Bibendum himself could find a life vest
that fits.
Just what defines a proper fit? A life vest should be snug, but not so
snug that you can't breathe. (A good vest will permit some adjustment, so
you'll be able to wear it over a wetsuit, fleece top,
and paddling jacket or anorak in
spring, then tighten it down for summer.) And it doesn't bind or chafe.
Anywhere. Paddling is an active sport. You need to be able to swing your
arms, twist your trunk, and turn your head — all without restriction. A
properly fitted life vest also stays put when you're in the water. You want
your life vest to support you, after all, and not go off on its own at the
first opportunity. If your vest floats up over your ears, it won't help you
keep your head above water when you need it most. As you can imagine, these
sometimes conflicting requirements make getting a good fit pretty tricky. You
can try on vests in a store, but the real test comes on (and in) the water.
So if you're buying from a catalog, check the seller's return policy first.
Or if you're buying from a retail store, ask before you open your wallet.
Either way, take your time making your choice.
This is good advice for all your "softwear," in fact. Rainwear, wetsuits,
drysuits, paddling jackets, and fleece outerwear should all fit without
flopping, but also without binding. And don't forget your feet. Your footwear
needs to survive repeated dunkings without weighing you down. It also has to
keep your feet warm in ice-cold
water.
Are you suited up? Then you can turn your mind to …
Hardware
Notwithstanding the feats of marathon swimmers, most of us can't float far
without a boat. But buying a boat ought to come fairly late in your paddling
apprenticeship. Do a little homework first. Ask your buddies about their
boats. It's a rare canoeist or kayaker who can't talk for an hour or more
about her boat — and who won't welcome the chance to do so! Read the
online reviews for any boat that
catches your eye. Rent or borrow different boats whenever you can. And don't
be afraid to think outside the box. If you can't find a hard-shell kayak that
fits you, give a SOT (aka
"sit-on-top"), inflatable, or folding boat a try. Better yet, paddle
representatives of all three types. Inflatables and
folders give you a hidden bonus, too. Not only can you keep one of these
boats-in-a-bag in a small apartment, but you'll save the money you'd spend on
a car
rack, as well. You can even
haul one behind a bike. Or are canoes more your style? If so, consider a
tandem, especially if you'll be paddling with a more experienced partner.
(Most tandem canoes can also be paddled solo. There's probably
no other boat that's so versatile.) Want the best of both worlds? Then
check out folding canoes.
Confused? I'm not surprised. While it's true that some boats are better
than others for specialized tasks — only the truly adventurous (or
foolhardy) would take a sea kayak down a steep mountain creek, for instance
— truly bad canoes and kayaks are mercifully rare. But why hurry? Play
the field. The more time you take to make your choice, the more likely you
are to find exactly what you're looking for. In the meantime, talk to your
canoeing and kayaking friends and read everything you can. You'll find a lot
of food for thought in the In the Same Boat
archives alone. If you're a linear thinker, begin with "Answers to
Questions New Paddlers Ask" and then follow up with "Moving On."
Or just browse as your fancy takes you. Don't stop there, however. Canoeing
and kayaking aren't armchair sports. Paddle as many different boats as you
can, as often as you can. That's not hard advice to follow, is it?
And it yields dividends. Some Michelin Men are happy as they are. But
others would be glad to shed a few pounds and rediscover the thin man trapped
inside them. For these folks — and there are Michelin Women, too,
obviously — there's …
No Better Prescription Than Paddling
Why work out on a treadmill when you could be outdoors, after all? Hour
for hour, vigorous paddling is the equal of jogging. It's a lot easier on the
knees,
though, and that's a very good thing. Still, not everyone has a lake or river
on her doorstep. This is where cycling comes in. A river may not run through
the suburban subdivision where you live, but a road almost certainly does. So
when you can't paddle, just get on your bike. Paddling and pedaling have a
lot in common. They both take you through the landscape at a human pace,
opening your eyes to things you've probably passed by a hundred times before
and never seen. And they're natural complements, to boot. Paddling exercises
your arms and trunk, while cycling strengthens your legs and butt. (It also
helps some paddlers cope with chronic back
pain, as well.) Who know? You might like the combination so much that you
start planning self-powered amphibious
adventures. Of course, nothing comes of nothing. You'll need to gear up for
cycling just like you geared up for paddling, beginning with a bike and
trailer.
But at least the money
you'll save on gas will help offset the cost — and the trip to the
put-in will now be part of the adventure!
Adventure. That's the key. On the water or on the road, Job Number One
is …
Enjoying Yourself
But I don't need to tell you that, do I? If you want to lose your spare
tire, you won't find a more enjoyable way than canoeing or kayaking. On the
other hand, if you see no reason to pare so much as a pound from your frame,
so much the better. There's magic in water. And a paddle is the only wand
you'll need to cast the spell.