Archives
Contents
-
Swiping a Shuttle: The Tinder Misadventure
Sometimes the shuttle is the adventure (click for video). Cabot and I sat on the boat ramp, watching the aquamarine tendrils of the Salmon River swirling at our feet. As we drank our last two Rainiers, I checked my phone. Still no signal and the hour was growing late. It had started as a joke,…
-
Pop a Squat
“Oh woah, sorry!” “For what?” I looked up at my friend from the squat I just popped. Bare ass dangling over the rock’s edge, crouched and facing in toward the group, I waited. “Well, uhm, I mean,” he turned his body away, clearly wanting to exit the moment, and yet also still hovering out of…
-
Fan Mail: Ban the Van
A reader sends a critique of #vanlife. Dear Site Zed, My friend once told me, “Vans are for posers.” I didn’t know what he meant until recently. I was at a river festival a few weeks ago. Takeout parking was limited, not because of crowds-because of vans. Hipsters adorned in mullets, mustaches and flat brimmed…
-
Exploring Tajikistan’s Untamed Rivers Part Two: The Muksu
The team, burdened by leaking drytops and broken kayaks, explores the frigid, high elevation Muksu River.
-
Go Fast Season Is Here
CKE The new year clicks over. Rain-dependent rivers start to flow. Group texts light up. And across the Southeast, a familiar mental math kicks in for a small crew of paddlers: Can I leave work early? Will the level hold? Is this actually happening? Every winter and spring, those questions signal the arrival of Go…
-
A Story for the Ages: Exploring Tajikistan’s Untamed Rivers
By Middy Tilghman, Simon Beardmore and Andrew McEwan Note from the editor (SZ): In 2007 Middy Tilghman, Andrew McEwan and Simon Beardmore wrote the following grant proposal to fund an ambitious kayaking expedition to Tajikistan: In the decade following its independence, Tajikistan was embroiled in a civil war that took a devastating toll on its…
-
A Father-Son Picnic on the Middle Kings
He believed me when I told him that the Middle Kings was the pinnacle, the ultimate river. I planted the seed.
-
LETTER FROM THE eDITOR
I grew up deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Rugged, worn, peaks tucked Sylva, North Carolina, into a high valley. Early morning fog blanketed the valley floor on my way to aptly named Smoky Mountain High. Ridges poked out of thick clouds and announced the day. Easy river access, reliable flows, and a temperate climate…