Ecology: Keeping It Simple

June-July 1999

This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web

by Dan Lewis

It's kind of ironic, isn't it? We go to the wilderness to leave our hopelessly cluttered, relentlessly frenetic daily lives behind. But then we go full circle, and recreate the consumer culture, replete with gadgets and gizmos. Before you know it, packing our kayaks with the latest gear becomes as daunting as the rest of our lives!

One thing we learn in kayaking is to "leave no trace". But I fear we are able to leave wilderness areas pristine partly because our impact is hidden elsewhere. What about the toxics used to make our kayaks, nylon clothing, in fact most of our hi-tech gear? And while not using fires means less woodsmoke, where does the stove fuel come from?

Consider also the human impact of our gear purchases. A lot of the world's clothing is manufactured under inhumane conditions in "sweatshops" in Third World countries. Outdoors clothing is no exception. Many of the people making gear for our recreation are paid a mere pittance, and could never afford the luxury of a kayak holiday, even if they could get time off. Thinking about this has made me look more closely at where gear is manufactured.

Perhaps the answer is to learn to minimize our impact as much as possible-to reduce the size of our ecological footprint. I've always had an affinity for the concept of 'voluntary simplicity'. For me, this means separating my wants from my needs, trying to consume as little as possible, and leading a life focused on fulfillment rather than acquisition.

Kayaking fits the bill nicely! There is less material in a kayak than almost any other watercraft. Once it's built, no fuel is needed other than food. And my kayaking experiences are certainly fulfilling, providing interactions with nature I wouldn't otherwise have.

Let's not forget the power of the marketplace. The choices we make as consumers can have an enormous effect on the Earth. Smart businesses realize this and adapt. Look at Patagonia, for example, pioneering the use of recycled pop bottles to make fleece, and promoting the use of organically grown cotton.

One of the principles of voluntary simplicity is to buy functional, durable goods.

This doesn't always mean the cheapest, nor does it necessarily mean the most expensive. Shop around, ask around before making purchases. Another is to care for gear - rinsing off salt, storing things out of direct sunlight. Thirdly, wear things out - not to the point of endangering your health or safety, but to use it up before replacing it. Finally, mend or repair gear instead of discarding it.

My own approach to kayaking gear is minimalist. I don't like to spend all my time fussing with gear while on trips, so I try to take as little as possible. Basically I bring enough to be comfortable in the worst conditions imaginable - and a wee bit more.

For me, this looks like one full set of shore clothes, including bombproof raingear and gumboots. And a pair of nylon shorts just in case! Another set of clothes is for paddling (with a farmer john wetsuit if paddling solo, in winter or the open coast). This set includes neoprene booties, paddling jacket and sou'wester rainhat.

My bedding has gotten pretty deluxe. I guess I'm softening in middle age. After holding out for 15 years, I finally got one of those newfangled inflatable foam pads-and I didn't fuss around. I got the big, thick one. Of course I bring a sleeping bag-synthetic fill so it will still be my ace in the hole for preventing heat loss even if it's wet. And now I bring a down pillow (why not? it weighs nothing, packs down small, and I save a fortune on chiropractor bills).

As for shelter, I favor a tarp. Something about going to all this trouble to get outside, then crawling inside to sleep, doesn't compute. Give me a lightweight 9 x 12 nylon tarp and a gore-tex bivvy sac any day. Nothing like waking to watch mergansers gliding past at eye level. Or waking up, nose to nose with a slug!

Other than that, my camp gear is pretty minimal. A few good pots, a cup, bowl knife and spoon, a camp chair, one good book, a pair of binoculars, and a journal round it out. I take a stove, or sometimes a grill to cook over micro-fires. And food, ah yes, food! That's a whole 'nother story.

My goal in being out there is to immerse myself in nature, as fully as possible. Should I try to re-create the decadence of post-industrial society? Or should I suffer for no reason? No, if I'm going to spend a good part of my life out camping, it makes sense to me to provide myself with a decent level of comfort. I try to achieve a balance whereby the gear provides enough comfort to enjoy my environment, but not so much as to distract me from that environment.

I believe this is one of the real lessons that kayaking offers us. It allows us to step out of the sensory overload of modern living, giving us a chance to re-connect with our real needs, such as food, clothing, shelter, and warmth. Hopefully when we return to society, we do so with a better ability to distinguish between our true needs and the superficial wants of marketeers' fantasies.

Dan Lewis is a kayak instructor based in Tofino, BC. Ph/fax: 250-725-3117