Fiberglass and neoprone — kayaking can feel like a slick modern sport that requires pricey, cutting-edge equipment. The truth is that its roots lie with brilliant Indigenous peoples who engineered their versatile crafts from natural materials. Inuit peoples of Greenland developed the resilient vessels and smart techniques for kayaking, which allowed them to hunt in the ocean even in harsh conditions. Today’s seemingly high-tech boats, paddles, and other sports gear owe everything to their Indigenous forerunners.
That proud Inuit history is still celebrated here annually at the Hudson River Greenland Festival (formerly hosted in Croton-on-Hudson, and planned for September 2024 in Fahnestock State Park). At the festival, techniques like rolling and harpooning are taught, and people who have grown up or kayaked in Greenland come to share knowledge.
On a cool June evening a few years ago, I packed my little car and drove from Yonkers to Croton to learn about traditional kayaking’s roots firsthand. For the first time there, I met Greenlanders like Angerlaq Andersen-Olsen and Dagny Andersen, living descendants of the founders of qajaqing (the traditional spelling of kayaking).
Upon arrival I saw many people sporting the little “skin boats,” and festival founder Jack Gilman quickly impressed me by rolling one. Many participants were very proud to show each other boats that they built from scratch. I asked if these boats were built like those of Inuit peoples, and they shared that Inuit-built boats were actually much more sophisticated given their limited resources at the time. I quickly learned that kayaking’s originators engineered very practical kayaks using driftwood and skin from the seals they hunted, and that their kayaks were very slim, fitting like a pair of socks.
I stood there holding my Euroblade paddle, which festivalgoers quickly made clear they were not very fond of. “Greenland paddles are better!” a bearded man shouted. The long, skinny sticks, he added, were made for long-distance paddling and rolling.
During the Ice Age, I learned, many people traversed the Earth to new lands as hunters and gatherers. Some would settle in Greenland. Due to the freezing climate, Inuit peoples had to develop certain survival skills, including qajaqing. Along with fire-making and harpoon-throwing, kayaking was one of Greenlanders’ most critical skills. Qajaqing was developed to help people navigate safely around the freezing water during hunting. They hunted for fish and sea mammals such as seals and whales.
In addition to learning how to paddle, Greenlanders had to develop other techniques to assist them. At the festival I learned that there were at least 35 different techniques in traditional Inuit qajaqing, and they each had a special situational purpose. The rolls are broken into two styles: forward finish and aft (back deck) finish. Some of the techniques are the side sculling, a move that is still used to teach rolling and prevent capsizing. Another maneuver is the standard Greenland roll or sweep roll. My personal favorite is the storm roll; it’s a great roll in high winds and choppy water that allows the paddler to very quickly recover after capsizing.
As sundown approached on the festival’s first day, I went into the pavilion to hear talks on Greenland culture and the competition. Greenland kayaking legend Maligiaq Padilla sat down and described many of the rolls based on word translation from Kalaallisut, a Greenlandic Inuit language, to English.
The next day, we went down to the water to practice some of the skills. The water was pretty chilly, and someone recommended I put on more gear. One of the guys handed me a Tuiliq and said Inuit peoples used it to keep them warm when they rolled.
Later I read about this in David Crantz’s 1767 book, The History of Greenland. “When they travel by sea, they put on as a great-coat over their common garment, a [tuelik], a black, smooth seal’s hide, that keeps out water,” Crantz wrote. When I tried on the modern version, which is made with neoprene, it sealed around the cockpit rim of my boat like a spray skirt does and on my wrists and around my face, keeping the water from getting onto my body.
As the day went on, I practiced throwing the harpoon, a spear-like projectile used to hunt large fish or marine mammals. The harpoon was accompanied by a norsaq, which acted as a trigger to hold and release the spear. The norsaq is also used for rolling qajaqs as well.
After dinner I went inside to capture a rope gymnastics demonstrations — another integral part of Inuit cultures. The sport helps to build balance, strength, flexibility, and oh, yes — pain tolerance. Rope gymnastics builds calluses in the hands, which are very useful for kayak hunters.
I volunteered to try the most basic moves. It was difficult, to say the least — it felt like I was going to blow my shoulders out. I could only imagine how dedicated Inuit peoples had to be in order to use kayak hunting as their primary means of survival. “Sometimes [hunters] tie a cord to the beam of a house, suspend themselves to it by foot and arm, and throw themselves into many artful postures like rope-dancers,” Crantz wrote.
While kayaking was developed as a means to hunt and survive, today kayaking has evolved into more of a way to venture into the wilderness. To reconnect with the water that flows through and around the earth. Equally important is the connection it forms to ourselves, and to the creatures that populate the seas and land on a deeper level.
I hope to travel to Greenland and kayak there among the masters someday. My journey of learning more and appreciating this Indigenous history started here in the Hudson Valley, but it is still just beginning.
