I used to be a kayaker.

These days days I’m considering shaving my legs because of all the spandex I wear.

I never thought I’d give up paddling in cool water in favor of pedaling on dusty dirt…it just happened. Back in the day, I kayaked over 100 days a year, starting with an annual New Year’s Day float down Shoshone on the Colorado. I was a certified kayak instructor, a raft guide and a pretty solid Class V boater. And from their website I bought a new playboat every year from  a new creek boat every other. My garage wafted wet neoprene all summer.

Now I train on my road bike to go faster on my mountain bike. I spend countless hours cleaning and wrenching (poorly) on my bikes to keep them running smoothly. I know gear ratios and count the grams of carbon components .

What the hell happened?

Maybe it was a move to a new town where the whitewater is less accessible and the familiar paddling posse is far away. Maybe it was starting a family. Maybe I just needed a new fix.

Apparently, I’m not alone. Grayson Schaeffer has a terrific piece in this month’s Outside about the rapid decline of whitewater kayaking in the US. Check it out here.

Recently I’ve been considering two alternatives to resuscitate my whitewater addiction. Fire up the bandwagon, but Stand Up Paddleboarding (SUP) does look pretty rad. Especially when you navigate one down a class IV stretch like the Numbers on the Arkansas. My buddy Hobie makes it look easy.

Apparently Hobie took his SUP down Class V Gore Canyon earlier this week. I can’t wait to see that vid.

On the other side of the spectrum is a variety of kayaking that’s so old it’s coming back around to retro-cool status. I haven’t been squirt boating since my college days on the New River in West by God Virginia, but I’m tempted to try and hunt down a used one now. Especially after I watch video of Skiing Magazine editor Sam Bass spinning Mystery Moves so deep and long he needs SCUBA gear. If you don’t know what a Mystery Move is, it’s the holy grail of squirt boating – and Sam is well on his way to finding it – on the bottom of the Arkansas river.