Salesmanship over seamanship? I looked through two issues of Paddler magazine and one Sea Kayaker.

2001 May/June Paddler is razzle dazzle marketing. Over 100 photos of white water and big water suitable for trained athletes. One image of more representative use is a full page photo behind the editorial of two kids, wearing PFDs, fishing from an open canoe. Old Town has a similar full page. Pygmy, Seda and others have smaller photos of quiet water boating. There's a fine shot of Pierre Trudeau, bereft of PFD.

None of Paddler's May/June table of contents and introductions has safety, seamanship, reentry, or anything like capsize prevention, avoiding breaking waves, hypothermia, or first aid. Its Canoeport Journal “Skills” department says, “Buoy Practice; the Skinny on Sculling; Canoe Games for the Water; and the Single-Blade Power Stroke.”

The skill, training and athletic demands of whitewater are not emphasized. Nor that men and women sea kayakers, to prudently go offshore, must have seamanship in their bones.

John Dowd's pointed story, Teaching Judgment, in the July/August Paddler is the exception to their sales-first style.

Sea Kayaker was founded by Dowd in 1985. Safety is up front and danger not obscured. Every issue has much about safety, but now it's concerned most with narrow boats. To use them safely, the implication seems, a paddler must be a competent “roller.”

Chris Cunningham's helpful editorial in the August 2001 Sea Kayaker is about rolling and preparedness--seamanship. Chris's editorial, too, shows why many prefer a wider boat; why we think a wider boat is often more seamanlike.

Chris wrote of a May afternoon at a lake “especially warm for this time of year.” He had his “low-volume Greenland kayak built specially for rolling.” But he was irked. He said more practice, stretching, yoga, and a chiropractor's “tune-up” would've helped. Biking and an elliptical trainer had kept him in shape, but tightened hamstrings and stiffened his back. “Last fall,” he wrote, “I'd been in good rolling form, but I had definitely lost some ground over the winter.”

Think about potential capsizes in boats under two feet wide. How the simplest things like eating, bird watching, or chartwork can get anxious. Reorganizing gear underway is tricky, too. And you don't want unexpected lurches of your mass athwartships, like lunging for a wet hat, or yanking too well on stuff under deck.

Most of us are seldom trained to our peak, nor ready to perform there. Little things go wrong. We could be tired. For us a wider boat makes more sense. But, please, don't think a wider boat is all you need.

Think of the “what-ifs” of weather, currents, gear failure, capsizing. Know your boat's position and seaworthiness. React to conditions as they are, not what you expected them to be, or were hoping for. Safety is more than clothing and equipment in four-color advertising. It's Scouting's “Be prepared.” It's the age-old teachings of seamanship.

Howard and I were crossing tacks on the Mystic River of Connecticut. A cool, June drizzle was quitting. We were sailing decked canoes Serendipity & Puffin (34 inches wide), weaving among intriguing boats at the Seaport's Small Craft Weekend. He and fiancee Keiko had flown in the afternoon before from Tokyo.