Canoe Like a Canadian

Written by Susan Nerberg, published by Explore Magazine, June 2019

The rock comes straight toward us. I swear I was keeping an eye out for obstacles from my vantage point in the bow, but now that boulder seems to leap from the froth. “Rock ahead!” I shout to my stern paddler, Alejandro, before tripling an expletive. There are so many other obstacles to worry about. “Go left!” I urge Alejandro, who is also my partner in life, while I throw in a cross-bow draw. I know he’s supposed to be calling the shots, but I want to avoid dumping in this spot. (Again.) Our canoe barely skims the rock. But barely is good enough—we paddle hard to keep forward momentum before tilting and eddying out with a sigh under a cluster of fragrant pines. This section of the Madawaska River isn’t called Rock Gardens for nothing.

FOR MANY CANADIANS—in my mind, even the average Canadian—manoeuvring through a set of river-rapids in an open canoe seems commonplace. Not to me. Growing up orienteering and cross-country skiing in Sweden, I didn’t have a clue what a pry stroke or a cross-bow draw were before Alejandro and I checked in for our five-day whitewater canoe course at Madawaska Kanu Centre. (Neither did he, a former elite track-and-fielder in Chile.) MKC is the canoe and kayak resort in the lush Ottawa Valley that will give us the skills we need to go river-tripping, which will officially begin with a multiday trip down Algonquin Provincial Park’s Petawawa River in less than two weeks. But I also see it as a way to honour our second citizenships, to finally become true Canucks. Besides, my first and only prior experience canoeing down a Canadian river nearly ended in a breakup—with Alejandro.

Having paddled once in Sweden, where a canoe is called a “Canadian” (kanadensare), I decided to take control on an excursion early in our relationship. I sat down by the rudder—that’s how I referred to the position in the back—and commandeered Alejandro, who had never set sandal in a canoe, to take the front seat. Bad idea—because, really, I had zero idea. Shortly after putting in, I realized we were going nowhere. The canoe, though, seemed to be going everywhere— everywhere I didn’t want it to go.

“You said you knew how to do this!” Alejandro hissed, boiling with frustration.

“Well, you’re not helping me,” I replied. We argued so vehemently about how to get the canoe to go where we intended it to go that we floated by a deer so closely we could have felt its breath, without even noticing it.

On day one with MKC we’re running into similar issues. Rated a class II, the Madawaska River has some class III rapids, like Rock Gardens, Narrows and Gravel Pit, that test more than our patience. But there are also flat sections that let us take in the scenery and watch minks play on the treed riverbanks. Each morning starts below Bark Lake Dam. (The dam is run by Ontario Power Generation, which in an unheard-of-elsewhere agreement with MKC, keeps the water flowing during daytime, Monday through Thursday, to ensure a high-enough volume in the river below to practice whitewater paddling.)

We start by practising water rescue and safe swimming, learning pries and draws, tilting, crossing eddy lines and doing S and C curves and build up from there. We get to lunch with only a minor skirmish when one of us confuses the pry with the draw and we almost tip over. After that it’s all downstream.

Little had I known that learning whitewater paddling would be similar to learning a new language—to speak like a kanadensare, if you will. To become a proficient tandem river runner you need equal parts paddling skills and diplomacy. In other words, communicating like Lester B. Pearson while carrying a big paddle. It doesn’t take more than a couple of hours at MKC to realize I’m severely lacking in both.

As we head out on the river again after lunch and the following two days, Alejandro and I don’t click; we don’t find the same language. Since he’s paddling in the stern, I want him to tell me exactly what to do and when, while he’s thinking that since I seem to know what to do, he doesn’t need to tell me. It’s a rough ride. Instructors Erin and Andy put us in separate canoes to practice our strokes in peace. Alejandro and I finally reach a turning point on day three, when we sit down for lunch with Stefanie Van Wijk, a canoe guide and instructor and the daughter of MKC’s owners.

Stefi, as everyone calls her, is taking over the running of the business from her parents, Olympic paddler Claudia Kerckhoff-Van Wijk and Dirk Van Wijk, a canoe and rafting guide, with her sister Katrina, an extreme athlete/kayaker and graphic designer working with the family business from her British Columbia base. Grandparents Christa and Hermann Kerckhoff immigrated from Germany in the late 1960s and started canoeing, “because they wanted to do the Canadian thing,” Stefi says. They did it so well, they decided to start teaching the sport, modelling MKC on a European ski school. (Grandpa went on to compete for Canada in the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich.)

Veering from the family’s high-performance focus, Stefi went to work as a river guide with canoe-outfitter Black Feather at 15, and ever since her interest has been in canoeing for the pleasure of being in nature. “What I want MKC to do is to teach the language of the river,” she says about the company’s canoe and kayak programs. We tell her about the challenges we’re having communicating and (mostly on my part) diplomacy. “Canoeing isn’t always about performing,” she says. “It’s about chilling— going with the flow and having fun.”

On the final day of the course, I wake up before the sun. I blame it on the rain pounding our corrugated cabana roof, but it’s more likely nerves about graduation day on the Ottawa River. Repeating sections on the Madawaska, we knew what was coming at us, even if the execution was wobbly. Today, we’ll be paddling into the unknown. But over french toast, yogurt and granola in the dining room, which is adorned with, among other craft, an Inuit kayak and a canoe used in the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta, Erin reminds us we know what to do. She’s right—in theory.

As soon as we put in, I can feel the tug of the current. It’s pushing and pulling with a force we hadn’t felt on the Madawaska, but we’re having fun riding in and out of the froth created by tributaries along the way. There’s a portage down a set of tall cliffs in the middle of the river and enough class III rapids to keep us sweating despite the rain. At one point, Erin motions to our group to eddy out. She explains that we’ll be going over a ledge, one canoe at a time. “I’ll go first and wait downriver; Andy will stay above. Keep left of the big boulder, and paddle hard,” she says before disappearing.

It’s our turn. I hear Alejandro’s voice from behind: “Let’s go! Just remember to help me out.” The adrenalin flows as fast as the river, fuelling some inner power to stay clear of the boulder. We go over the ledge with a boof. Paddling madly, I feel the canoe getting tippy. “Paddle forward!” I yell. I hear Erin on river left: “Paddle! Paddle hard!” But we start rocking even more. We flip. I hold on to my paddle and swim ashore. “What the hell were you doing?” I ask Alejandro. He’s smiling, so I can’t be mad.

“I did nothing,” he replies. “I just held onto the gunwales and went for the ride.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Erin confirms it; she saw him. “You had it until your partner stopped paddling,” she tells me. Alejandro smiles. “I had to know what it was like,” he tells me.

The rest of the day seems like a breeze. Sure, we hit more rapids, some tricky enough that we decide not to run them (we’ve figured out when it’s best not to go with the flow). On the final stretch, I turn to the stern and ask Alejandro if he thinks we’re ready for our multi-day trip on the Petawawa River. “Of course,” he says. I make him promise not to do that holding-on-the-gunwales thing.

“Of course.”

THE PETAWAWA RIVER has some wicked rapids. As we’re staring down the maw of Crooked Chute on our four-day expedition with Black Feather, I see mangled pieces of aluminum canoe. Having no desire to tempt fate, I’m hoping this is where we’ll do our first portage. “Yeah, it’s a bit sketchy,” says Mark Orzel, our guide and the trip leader. That’s an understatement.

But the scouting mission on the rocks are a good way for Alejandro and me to keep practising river-reading after our course at MKC. It’s also a good way to see the river in a broader context, as Mark tells us about the river being a part of the area’s forestry history. “Those metal rings bolted into the rock are from the logging past,” he says. And going even further back in history, the river was a part of a network of water routes that connected Indigenous people and provided trading routes.

Considering we have no history as wilderness paddlers, we signed up with Black Feather, which offers river expeditions across the country—from the Soper in Nunavut to the Peel in the Yukon—with instruction thrown in for those who want it. We are the newbies on this Petawawa trip, a 50-kilometre jaunt where we’re learning how to pack a canoe and how to portage, while testing our new skills. We also get to enjoy being in nature, swimming, hanging out around the campfire and eating delicious food served from the “countertop” of an upside-down canoe.

As we approach the Thompson Rapids— there’s an upper and a lower portion—we eddy out on river-right and exit our canoes. Mark takes us on a hike downstream and onto a set of boulders above the rushing water. He surveys it, then looks at us. “So, what line do you see here?” Alejandro and I discuss and agree on an option. Mark confirms our choice of a line between boulders then over a tricky ledge. Still, he makes the decision not to run it—it’s too risky. Walking back to pick up our canoes for the portage, I’ve got mixed feelings. “It’s disappointing,” Alejandro says. Like him, I was stoked to give it a go, but at the same time I feel relief. We make it smoothly through Lower Thompson, and it seems that we at least solidify our communication skills. Which work well as long as he is in the stern and I’m in the bow

Swapping roles one morning, I take the driver’s seat. There are a number of class II rapids ahead of us, tricky enough to give me a challenge but not so hard we can’t clear them, even with the roles reversed. We set out after agreeing on the line. But as soon as I have to make a decision, I freeze. I mess up my pry with my draw, and we’re off on the wrong course. I can’t even see where we’re going, because Alejandro is blocking the view, being taller than me. That rock we’re supposed to go past is all of a sudden under the canoe. We can’t get off it, so we step out. But doing so flips the canoe over and pins the boat against another rock so hard the gunwale snaps. Our gear goes down the rapids. At least someone is downstream to drag it to shore.

I’m frustrated and embarrassed by my failure. I vow never to sit in the stern again, leaving that job to Alejandro. Our fellow paddlers, however, offer encouragements. So when we get to the ripple that feeds into McManus Lake, I ask Alejandro to steer to the shore. I want to give sterning another try.

“You know you can do it. Just keep your cool. You know what to do and when,” Alejandro says as we push off. I pick my line, taking us into the centre of the river before moving over toward the right bank. I’m doing my pries and draws and asking Alejandro for help when I need it, or asking him to paddle forward. I’m actually navigating our boat this time— and I’m enjoying it.

It’s calm enough that I think back to the only time I paddled in Sweden. The skies were so sad that day they made the canoe well up with tears. Bailing and whining, my 11-year-old camp friends and I struggled not to cry ourselves. What was the point of this exercise? We were soaked, cold and hungry. Swimming across that boreal lake would have been better, or even running a trail through the forest alongside it. But this was just flat, and I’d never heard of flat-water canoeing. The sport wasn’t for me.

What I’m realizing as I take us downstream without tipping is that I was the one who wasn’t a sport. But I’m in control, and this is anything but flat.

LEAVING THE LAST rapids behind, we start our final push across McManus Lake. Our expedition is coming to an end. Plying the sun-splashed waves with a steady paddlestroke—my mind flips through images of the past couple of weeks: our canoe going down the Madawaska without us; the friends we made; camping under the stars that watch over Algonquin Provincial Park; the fear I felt when the Ottawa seemed to want to drag us under; and the bear cub that swam in front of us yesterday morning on the Petawawa. I go over the skills we’ve learned and how awesome it is to have found a new way of exploring the wilderness. And I think about what it means to live in a country that puts a canoe on its currency and where you’ll find an entire museum dedicated to the watercraft.

It’s a great joy when it all clicks with your paddling partner and you navigate through a class III rapid together without dumping. I still haven’t mastered diplomacy like LBP and my paddle seems awfully underweight, but I’ve come to see the advantages of going with the flow. I am Canadian. And I figure Alejandro is, too, even if he doesn’t put it as bluntly. On the drive home from Algonquin, he looks over at me. “So when are we doing this again?”

An MKC Family Story

by Adrick Brock

Up until he turned 40, my dad received from my grandma a $50 bill for his birthday. He was bashful about the money (surely he was too old for it) and invariably spent it on something for the whole family, too humble or stubborn to buy a gift just for him. One year, he decided to use the money to take my sister and I whitewater rafting on the Madawaska River. We spent our summers in a little cabin in the area and would often drive by a big blue sign that advertised Float Trips at the Madawaska Kanu Centre. The sign depicted a flouncy yellow raft full of happy, helmeted people, splashing through a cartoonish wave.

What we discovered upon our arrival at MKC was something like a treasure chest hidden deep in the forest. There was a big wooden chalet and a buzz of people marching about with colourful boats on their shoulders, making their way to the river. A blue school bus drove us to the put-in, and from there we screamed and laughed our way through half a dozen of the most fun, most terrifying rapids I’d seen. It was a two-hour trip, and by the end of it my sister and I were hooked.

We came back the following summer for the Kids Kayak program and fell in love with the river all over again. Paddling down rapids offered the thrill of a roller coaster without any of the line-ups, and it put us in the driver seat, which could be a novel feeling for a kid. There was something magical about slipping through the current in those sharp, little boats and making it through the crashing waves upright.

We came back to MKC summer after summer. One Christmas we woke to find a purple kayak under the tree, and for our annual camping trip the following August, my sister and I took turns kayaking alongside our parents’ canoe. My dad had taken a whitewater canoe course at MKC and we’d decided to run the Petawawa River in Algonquin Park. Despite my mom’s apprehension (she preferred lakes), we had officially become a whitewater family.

It was this familial support that made paddling possible for me: by 16 I was surfing the big waves on the Ottawa; by 17, I was instructing Kids Kayak courses on the Madawaska. When I turned 18 I made MKC my summer home and started working as a raft guide, taking families down the same stretch of whitewater I’d had so much fun on as a kid. The meaning wasn’t lost on me. I’d come full circle.

There is a phenomenon unique to MKC, where work blends so seamlessly with play it ceases to feel like work at all. I would go away to university and come back each spring filled with a sense of relief to be back in the sweet spot again. My coworkers were my best friends and there were always new opportunities within the organization––a management position, guiding on the Ottawa, taking on the Head Instructor role. My sister joined the staff and made it feel like even more of a family. 

We underestimate how formative our first jobs truly are, and looking back on those summers, I can appreciate the life lessons learned on the river. MKC taught me the value of professionalism and stewardship and the importance of community, and it affirmed my passion for getting outside and connecting to the deep, profound flow of the natural world. 

I live in a big city now, far away from the thrum of those rapids, but there is something too essential about paddling to give up altogether. I still come back to the Madawaska to teach for a few weeks each summer. My sister does the same, trading her office attire for a helmet and lifejacket. Whitewater is in our blood, and MKC is where it all started. The place is like a recirculating eddy, cradling us in its gentle pull.

Recognition of a Lifetime of Dedication

I am still happiest when in my kayak!

-Claudia Kerckhoff van Wijk

We’re excited to announce that our very own Claudia Kerckhoff van Wijk has received the World Paddle Lifetime Achievement award. There is truly nobody more deserving of being recognized for her participation and contribution to the sport of whitewater paddling.

She has had a very successful slalom and white water kayaking career; with medals in the Canadian Championships, Pan American Championships, and World Championships. For over 40 years she has lead the Madawaska Kanu Centre and inspired hundreds of paddlers to pursue their whitewater passions. Additionally, with the help of her husband, Dirk van Wijk, she has seen OWL Rafting built from the ground up. Claudia continues to use her influence in the whitewater world to promote ecological change and unity within the paddling communities.

It should also be noted that Claudia is the first woman to have ever received this award and is an empowering role model for female paddlers throughout the world. In an interview with the World Paddle Awards, Claudia notes “Giving back to the sport that gave so much to me, is a natural transition. I enjoy it immensely!”

Congratulations Claudia!

https://youtu.be/1p7e-S8ffqo

Bark Lake Dam and the Madawaska River Management Plan

Bark Lake Dam defines the start of the middle Madawaska River. Built for flood control, and peak power production its mandate now extends to a much broader scope, including white water recreation. Bark Lake is eastern Ontario’s second largest water reservoir and supplies the Madawaska River. In early spring, the water level in Bark Lake can be over 10 metres lower than summer levels, as its waters have been drawn down for power production through the cold winter months, on the 5 hydro-producing dams downstream. The spring freshet fills the lake back up in time for the May long weekend.

The Madawaska River produces what is called ‘peak power’—during high electrical consumption. In 1969, my parents Christa & Hermann Kerckhoff chose the Middle Madawaska for this reason – guaranteed warm water that drops over the top of the dam all summer long. Negotiating with Ontario Hydro the current schedule of 26 hours of water releases per week came to be. My parents asked “How much water needs to flow downstream over 7 days, even in periods of drought?” and then “Could this water be released during the day for white water recreation, replenished overnight?

Being in cottage country, keeping lake levels constant as well as providing downstream flows is a delicate balance. This balance is managed extremely well through the Madawaska River Management Plan. Created by Ontario Power Generation (OPG) and the Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR), through consultation with many stakeholders, this legally binding document helps manage the river along its 240 km length. This document has won national awards, and is now utilized in other river systems around the globe.

Madawaska Kanu Centre builds on success

DANIELLE PAUL
MADAWASKA VALLEY

It’s no surprise that the van Wijk family of the Madawaska Kanu Centre (MKC) and OWL Rafting are “reading the river” ahead. The Current recently met with Claudia and Stefani van Wijk to learn their plans for the family business as it moves into the care of a third generation.

MKC-OWL has been an Ottawa Valley business for 46 years since Claudia’s parents, Christa and Hermann Kerckhoff—both Canadian champions —opened the world’s first whitewater paddling school at MKC in 1972 and OWL Rafting on the Ottawa River in 1981. Claudia and her husband Dirk took over the reins of both OWL and MKC in 1988 and have worked to make the family business one of Destination Canada’s Canadian Signature Experiences (CSE) – the crème de la crème of Canada’s international tourist attractions. The CSE designation puts MKC into an exclusive collection of once-ina-lifetime travel experiences that Canada markets internationally.

To achieve this they and their daughters, Stefani and Katrina, spent every summer on the Madawaska and Ottawa Rivers running MKC and OWL respectively. Claudia explained how careful management and planning grew the business through four decades. Her parents taught her to always have a Plan B and the van Wijks have never expanded beyond what they could afford to do themselves.

That approach has paid off. From just 25 students in the summer of 1972, MKC will host over a thousand students this season.

. . .

This article was originally published in The Madawaska Valley Current. To read the full article, click here!

 

River Ramblings

Sometimes we are asked by our students “Why do we practice so much before we run the river?” I reflect on this as I watch a momma duck and her 3 ducklings expertly ferrying in and out of current at the bottom of a rapid. They are feasting on nutrients flowing downstream to their eager beaks – all they need to do is position themselves in a way that maximizes their nourishment. The river also asks us to learn how to position ourselves to receive her gifts. Nourishment is ours if we take the time to understand her bends and turns – she does not deliver instant gratification. Therefore, taking the time to ferry, eddy in and out of current, learning how to position ourselves in her flow is an act of meeting the river halfway. By taking the time to understand her power, the river will “flow not past, but through us”, giving us gifts with every dip of our paddle.

~Quote by John Muir.  River Ramblings by Bethany Leonard

Whitewater Riders 2018

Becoming a great paddler takes more than just skill.
Using the river as their classroom, WW Riders learn how to support each other on and off the water. They face fears, share knowledge and learn what they can do to contribute to the paddling community.
July 23 to August 3rd were two weeks to remember.

Link to video

A week of rivers in the Canadian Shield

The rivers of the Canadian Shield are not all easy to access and are often best tackled for the first time with a guide. This the is rationale behind Madawaska Kanu Centre​’s Week of Rivers, a five-day river running retreat in the southern Canadian Shield. Read what Adrick Brock and Claudia van Wijk have to say in the latest issue of the Paddler ezine here!

 

Whitewater Riders Program – a new generation of complete paddlers

Kayaking over waterfalls is not your average summer camp activity, but for teens in the Whitewater Riders program, learning to boof is only the beginning. Whitewater Riders is a fully immersive two week camp for kayakers aged 13 to 17 looking to take their boating to the next level. It’s offered through the Madawaska Kanu Centre, Canada’s oldest whitewater school, two hours northeast of Ottawa.

. . .

Read the full article and see more photos at KayakSession.

Reviews

5 star ratingWhite water st madawaska kanoe club. MKC Thank you Tatiana and Reagan!!! Great fun family rafting guides. This us a affordable trip the whole family will enjoy. Will return for adventure rafting for sure!
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Teena S Avatar
Teena S
8/15/2024
5 star ratingWhite water canoe course I took a 5 day tandem white water canoe course with MKC. I went from learning on flat water to running grade 3 rapids!
What an amazing experience! Wonderful place beside the river. I camped. Very good facilities and comfortable lodge to relax in with open fire. Delicious food (I had vegetarian options). The staff were lovely- from domestic staff to instructors. Everyone mixed together with the guests. I went by myself and really enjoyed everyone I met. They all had an interesting story and were there for the love of the river.
My instructor was Regan. She was superb- lovely person, very patient and adjusted her teaching to individual needs. I learned so much- thanks Regan.
Would highly recommend MKC to anyone interested in canoeing, kayaking or rafting!
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foggieparks Avatar
foggieparks
7/17/2024
5 star ratingGreat family experience Amazing team. Excellent safety equipment and instructions. River is beautiful and was warm. The rapids are not too strong so was great first time experience.
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alexandretV6087PD
7/30/2024

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