I’ve been watching a range of weather forecasts in a bid to try and get a feel for things around here. With no hurricanes predicted, last night I went out for a paddle along the shore. Even now it’s light here till 10pm. On a quiet beach I came across a strange installation, an abandoned Wasp Factory or maybe just some kids’ flotsam beach house. In some places the masses of washed-up fishing industry junk is depressing in the otherwise unpolluted surroundings, but it’s also part of what makes beach-combing so intriguing. Whose chopped down wellies were they (different sizes, made in Holland)? When was Calmac man’s (Hebridean ferry service) hard hat blown overboard and did he go with it? All messages without a bottle. If nothing else, as Gael observed last year along the SSKT, there’s always plenty of rope, netting and more usefully, firewood to be found on less visited beaches.
Eight years later it finally succumbed to the Hebridean gales.
Spade or shovel? I paddled open deck that evening and along the way attempted to compare my good old, bent-shaft Werner Camano with my newer Corrywrecken (both discussed in more detail here). In short, over a couple of hours I could hardly tell the difference in operational terms except that the Corry initially felts amazingly light and taught after using the Camano, but going back to the Camano doesn’t exactly feel like falling headfirst down a well. Both are great paddles when compared to a spade tied to a shovel with duct tape. Can’t say the bigger Corry made the boat go any faster, but perhaps the lighter pull of the more ergonomically bent, low-angle Camano felt more natural and sustainable. It’s hard to tell if that’s a genuine impression or just a pre-conditioned response to what sea kayak paddle lore suggests. I think in the Incept I’ll stick with the Camano, only because it continues to work so unobtrusively plus I don’t want to mash or lose the newer Corry any sooner than necessary. Despite being named after a famous tidal whirlpool off Jura, I’d say the Corry is a great white water blade, where you want to pull fast pivots and brisk acceleration to navigate complex rapids.
No rudder I paddled back 2 miles or so with the rudder up under a very light wind and with perhaps a bit of back tide and swell. I’m getting the knack of tracking the K40 a lot quicker than in the Sunny without a skeg – but then I only discovered the Sunny worked skeglessly by mistake after a few weeks. My conclusion in the Incept is that you’re maybe 1kph down on a typical 6.5kph cruise (I had a GPS) because of the correcting finesse and concentration required. Maybe that will subside, but it all takes a little more out of you physically, as your hands are doing the steering/tracking as well as the pulling. Just like in the Sunny, every few minutes you spin offline for no reason you can fathom. So then either you pull hard to bring the front back, or you just spin right out and check out the view behind, then paddle backwards for a bit as if you were planning to turn all along. After a bit of that you lose it anyway, let it swing back around pointing forward and carry on your way.
What’s in the bag? The other night I tipped out the contents of the blue bag and unrolled the boat from a factory-packed volume which, like a new Alpacka, it’s never likely to regain (see below in red). It all added up to:
Blue roll top dry bag Boat with deck lines and all rudder controls/lines Rudder assembly Flexible hatch coaming rod Inflatable seat Four GRP battens which slip into the deck to give it form K-Pump in a bag with adaptors and grease Boat repair kit (glue, a dozen patches and a valve adaptor, see red) Basic instructions and an NZ leaflet on safe sea kayaking
Dimensions According to my atomically calibrated measuring instruments, the boat alone weighs 14.8kg + 2.2kg for rudder, seat, repair kit and pump. It’s 4.3m long, 69cm wide and 45cm wide inside (32.6 lb + 4.8 lb; 14′ 1″; 27″; 18″). The table from this post compares dimensions on similar IKs. At 17kg the K40 actually feels pretty light and as long as it’s empty, not too windy and the path is easy, I can carry the kayak on my head or the back of my shoulders.
What’s not in the bag – a spray deck. You get the impression that it’s a special shape/item and so ought to be included, but I’m told it’s €103 euros for the one Incept recommend. It’s hard to ascertain exactly what you’re buying from the small image buried on their website, but similar skirts go for around half that price in the UK. I bought a nylon cheapie to be getting on with. It’s actually not badly made for 19 quid, with taped seams and a decent coated material; it’s just way too long, so I had to cut it down.
Aa K40 sits a lot higher than a regular hardshell kayak, so I imagine a skirt would only be necessary when it gets really rough (by which time you probably have other issues) or cold, or you confidently expect to be able to extract yourself from capsizing with one smooth swipe of your blade. It would be nice to master a roll, but I suspect that crawling back into a K40 with decks unzipped is less difficult, especially with a paddle float. More on that here.
The hatch is 71cm long, 41cm wide and 186cm circumference (28″ x 16″ x 73″), if that helps you select a spray deck. Although it’s statistically small, I’ve sat in worse and as it’s not rigid, even I can pull my legs up to get out while still seated.
Thigh straps are a €66 option. Fair enough, but my boat has no D-rings (left, Incept’s pic) for the straps, just markings where to fix them. Some boats get patches, some don’t I was informed (probably heat-welded, left). Otherwise it’s a lot messy work gluing some on (below left), which will either cost you over £50 for four Incept patches sent over from NZ. Or you can spend hours on the internet looking for alternatives. I fretted, thinking I must buy actual Incept ones which are made from the same PVC-urethane material as the hull. As well as clean surfaces and a good roller, on inflatables the adhesive/material combination is critical for a good, permanent seal.
D-rings setting under heavt rocksThigh straps
The actual Incept PVC patches cost $NZ12, similar to the UK from places like PolyMarine. Or good old NRS have all sorts of patches here and among other places, they now have an outlet in Ireland (so all import taxes paid (until Brexit happened).
I bought a dozen #2097s (left) which are a bit big at nearly 5″ (120mm) but can be trimmed. NRS said that Aquaseal (aka: Aquasure in Europe) will do the job on PVC-to-PVC as well as anything, but actually one D-ring stuck on with Aquaseal came off three times. Probably my bad application so eventually I tried the small unbranded tube of Ultraseal 777 which came with the boat’s repair kit. It’s a much thinner and runnier than Aquaseal and smells like classic Bostik, and because it was not ‘filling’ but just adhering, I thought it made a better, more pliant seal and it cured quickly too. I’ll find out for sure how the 777 patches worked in comparison with the Aquaseal. Unfortunately, though it’s made by Bostik, I couldn’t divine whether 777 has a magical formula that perfectly suits Incepts polyurethane alloy fabric, but in future I’ll clean off with MEK solvent and use Bostik 1782 – the nearest I could guess and found cheap on ebay. While my back was turned Bostik seem to have diversified into scores of glues from my youth when the classic, pink-tubed all-purpose glue did it all. Now they sell a glue for scores of uses which the cynical consumer can’t help thinking is marketing- rather than function led.
The SeakayakOban test boat I tried had thigh straps – straight, not as comfortable as pre-curved ones I recall having on other IKs. Pre-curved straps hook better over the knees, so I got a pair for an SoT off amazon for £33 (left). With those brass-plated clippy things they’re heavy, but seeing as they’re so fat they could double up as cushier backpacking straps on a boat-hauling packframe.
One more annoyance: I was expecting to get the Bravo footpump which the shop I bought it from pictured and confirmed by email. I received the better, hard plastic K-Pump after I went out of my way and bought one. This inconsistency with Incept’s info (including images of models with old colour schemes, velcro decks and talk of ’25 D-rings…’ in current brochures) gets frustrating. You get the feeling Incept aren’t focussed on promoting these IKs, as if they’re a sideline to the raft business. But as long as the people on the factory floor with the scissors and heat guns are on the ball, I’m sure I’ll get over it.
Sadly, quality of construction is also inconsistent. Most of the boat is heat-welded but closer inspection revealed a lifted seam at the glued-on rudder patch (below left). The cavity here was an inch deep and took repeated injections of Aquaseal to fill, but I presume this is a patch glued on the hull, otherwise I’d have a pretty flaccid boat by now. Nearby, a couple of hull seams had also lifted a mil or two (middle pic). It’s hard to think these would have slipped past any inspection (assuming there is one), so I presume they lifted after that point. These are the only manufacturing flaws I’ve spotted on an otherwise clean job. And to be fair the rudder patch glues around a curve where two other layers meet, so it’s a difficult join. I’ve laddled the whole area with Aquaseal (last pic) and it’s now sealed for good.
Incepts are made from 1100 dtex Polyester fabric coated in a PVC-urethane blend. It’s notably less thick than an old-style Gumotex. Stiffer is harder to glue into tight forms (as proved above) but makes a faster boat on the water. It’s also more awkward to pack, especially when cold. I can’t see me ever rolling it up as compact as the image at the top of the page (see red text , below). I go on further about IK materials here and once, theboatpeople spoke sagely about Incepts, though it’s unclear if they’ve actually seen one in the raw (never stopped me!).
As the enclosed instructions say, the biggest risk to damaging a PVC craft is when a sharp and stiff corner of a rolled up boat scrapes on concrete or tarmac; it grinds off the coating real quick. I must remember never to do that. It’s unlikely that the PVC-U is as durable as synthetic rubbers like Nitrilon or Grabner’s EPDM, but with care, regular rinsing, squirts of 303 and the odd dab of glue, it should last. In fact the K40 is the only IK I’ve ever punctured: a tiny thorn tip picked up while pumping up on Loch Moidart. The second owner’s similarly punctured the side while pushing past a thorn three on a river, and again at sea later. Knowing all this in retrospect I would say Incept’s choice of fabric for the K40 may not be durable enough, but the only other owner of an older red and yellow boat has had no flats at all. It’;s possible earlier boats used different fabrics.
Out of the bag I pumped it up for the night and fitted and adjusted the rudder which was dead easy. Next morning all was still pleasingly firm, so off to one of the local lochs. Down on a small beach near a road, again I was surprised how effortlessly the K-Pump inflated the K’s three chambers until the PRVs start hissing at 5 psi or 0.34 bar – as high as any non-DS IK. I like the idea that on the water you’re able to top up the pump from inside the cockpit as all the valves are located accessibly by your lap, though over the course of that warm day – leaving it in the sun here, there and on the car’s roof – it wasn’t necessary. And I sure like the fact that the Halkey Roberts’ valve caps (left) twist off easily and back on securely, unlike my old Sunny’s horribly stiff and awkward items which never relented in all years or use.
Packing up a Tasman As mentioned, the stiff PVC which responds so well on the water makes rolling and packing up a K40 a bit of a challenge, especially if space is important and it’s not warm. After a few weeks of ownership I finally gave it a go. First thing to do is the suck all the air out that you can’t do by just rolling; this is something a K-Pump does not claim to do (despite what you may read), but I’ve only lately discovered a Bravo pump (left) can do once you switch the hose to the other port. With the Halkey valve opened (pressed down) the spring in the Bravo’s bellows sucks stoically until you can hear the PVC creaking. All you have to do then is yank off the push-fit hose and close the valve quick against the boat’s partial vacuum – tricky with fingers; you may need pliers.
The ABS K-Pump is heavier and as bulky as a Bravo footpump, but it’s more robust and for a hand pump is amazingly effortless. The K is the pump to use even if it doesn’t suck, but the boat comes with a bayonet valve adaptor in the spares kit. Pop that on a short length of hose and you have a manual – or oral – sucking tube to compact the K40 for transit. If this is all TMI, just say ;-).
First impressions on the water were a bit shaky compared to the test day a few weeks back when conditions were about the same, if not even calmer. Maybe because I was alone, ill-dressed for the very cold water, and the valley caught the odd gust off the big mountains. Who knows what was up, but I doddered around like a beginner, then parked up on another beach for a walkabout, and on the way back paddled with the deck unrolled which was fun. This convertible deck arrangement is such a great idea. It’s like owning a brolly or a mac: you don’t always want it but sometimes you need it.
Part of the reason deck-free is possible is that the K uses a removable bendy nylon rod for the hatch rim or coaming (left). Remove the four chunky GRP deck-supporting battens, roll the deck back to the right side and hey presto, the legs can breath, you can get in and out gracefully and maybe even carry a light passenger. Though thick and strong, the battens don’t seem to have any influence on pushing the boat’s sides out as far as I could tell, it’s more likely a zipped up deck holds the sides in if anything, so inhibiting longitudinal flex of the hull in rough conditions with a heavy paddler.
The rudder mounts easily and looks like a well made unit, though again, I’m no expert. Foot control is off some flaps on an adjustable air bag footrest using string and elastic. Not surprisingly, it’s all a bit mushy, but I don’t think any IK or even any K will have a system as solid as the Amoco Cadiz. It centres naturally and so works fine as a simple straight tracking skeg which is all you want most of the time. For an impression of rudder free paddling, read this. If you want to slide forward down the boat (perhaps to pull the deck on or have a snooze) you can easily slip your feet under the semi-inflated footrest/rudder pedal air bag. Turning circle on full rudder lock is about 10 metres, same as our Nissan, and I also observed that you can do a 360 in this boat on the spot with 5 back strokes; in other words: less strokes than you’d imagine. Backing up is also easy with the rudder up and the rudder lift line works fine. A rudder of course came into its own to correct tracking when paddling downwind or at 45° to the wind in either direction, though here is where the mushiness was noticeable. A bit more experimentation with the footrest/rudder pedal air bag pressures and seating/footrest positions may tighten things up. So far the seat is fine and I’ve had no complaints since. It’s light and simple, but made from thick nylon (compared to an Alpacka) with two elbow valves – and it clips out in seconds, just like the modified seat in my old Sunny. But like on my old Alpacka Llama, you sometimes sit on the squashed down backrest when getting in with the deck on, which could be a pain if the situation was choppy or awkward. There is more back support with the deck on I’ve found, as you lean on the back coaming a bit. I’ve also since found even at sea it’s safe and stable to sit sideways on the seat with your feet in the water.
By the time I got back a couple of hours later I was in the mood for more so I strapped the boat onto the car (another great aspect of frameless IKs) and scooted over to the main beach opposite the Summer Isles. That morning there’d been no less than nine cars or vans with kayak racks heading out for the day. Quite right too as it was amazing weather, so much so that the blooming gorse in the hills caught fire. As I came back, the village fire engine dashed past me, trailing cobwebs and heading for the smoke palling over the Assynt to the north. Out in the bay a pair of late hardshellers were heading out and it seemed a bit less gust prone out in the open water. After dicking about for a bit, I headed across to Tanera Mor island, about two miles across the bay. We look over to Tanera all day from our place, and on many previous occasions in the Sunny I’ve thought about it but never dared. I suspect the relative speed and higher sides of the Incept gave me the edge and the confidence. In the island’s anchorage, flushed with the success of my monumental traverse from the mainland of Britain, I pulled over by a salmon pen and watched the caged fish flit across the surface, I presume enacting their instinctive upstream spawning surge, but here destined only for the slicer and the smokehouse. On the way back I decided to deck up for no other reason than I could, noting that when fully unzipped, I can just about reach the zip ends fore and aft to pull them closed, as long as I used the fishpen side for stability. Out at sea if it was rough a boat alongside would be needed. I’ve since lengthened the tabs on the zip ends to make them more reachable. A small island ferry left the nearby jetty at the same time as me, and mid-crossing its parallel wake crept ever closer until at the last minute I panicked a bit and turned into it to be on the safe side. Later, a bigger fishing boat came across my bows leaving a bigger wake which was no bother taken side on. I’ve since found the K40 is fine in side waves that can make a slinky hardshell a little nervous. No GPS but I timed myself; 25 mins to cover 2 miles which were a bit choppier than on the way out. That’s 7.2kph or 4.5mph or 3.9 knots if you must. Not bad at all and it all rather neatly validates exactly what I ruminated on earlier about getting a better boat for my time up here: dashing alone across what I would classify as ‘open’ water was one of the main reasons I wanted a faster, decked IK. The Incept has delivered on Day 1.
With three months on the coast of northwest Scotland lined up for 2011 I was looking for a more seaworthy boat than the Sunny or making the Sunny faster (see this and this). Two weeks watching the weather blow through September 2010 showed it changes a lot up there. First from the east then the west, it blew at up to 50mph so when it’s good you’ve got to drop everything and get out there. But if it changes on the water while most probably paddling alone you want to be sure you can get back fast and not have to jeopardise making progress by either bailing in a frenzy or struggling to re-board. Well, that’s the way I see it. In Shark Bay, it didn’t take much of a swell – maybe a metre – to fill the Sunny up every 20 minutes or so. I’d hook onto Jeff’s tandem and they paddled while I pumped. And that was the warm Indian Ocean not The Minch, off the North Atlantic. It’s not like I’ll be setting off for St Kilda every weekend to pick up half a dozen gannet eggs, but either a deck or self-bailage is needed to be able to paddle alone around there with security. As you do, over the previous months I gone through periodic frenzies of internet research. A hardshell SinK was never in the running. I don’t like being jammed in those things, they’re awkward to transport and would need getting rid of after. Plus I can rent a decent sea kayak locally. Instead, I wondered about the other extreme, an SoT; very popular with the rec paddling masses who may not know a hard chine from a Chinese burn, but have a whole lot of inshore fun nevertheless. Most SoTs are wide enough to do the Can-Can while wearing flippers and come in awful ‘explosion-in-a-paint-factory’ colour schemes.
The angler-oriented models are less hideous and I narrowed it down to an Ocean Kayak Prowler 15 (above left) or OK’s slimmer Scupper Pro (above). One went on ebay for just 300 quid while I was thinking about where I could store it. They say an SP is from the same mould as an RTM Tempo (left; 24kg 4.5, on 67cm) and their Disco (below right; 23kg 4.3, on 65cm) looks pretty good too for a plastic sea clog (the shape I mean – not the colour). Fast I imagine, easy as a bike to get on and off, but might require suiting up too often to be fun without getting chilled. Either of these would be a lot of fun if I lived in Florida or the Aegean. Not so sure about northwest Scotland.
So according to my calculations that left a folder, and for me the pick of the bunch has always been Feathercraft’s Big Kahuna (left; 4.5m x 64cm; 16kg – 14′ 9″ x 25″; 35lbs) featuring an extra big cockpit for creaky old men who can’t bend like they used to could. Feathercrafts are expensive and the marked up price new in the UK is so far beyond the pale to give them an admiring cachet among paddlers. I missed one in the UK for £1800 then tracked down another in Hawaii with every last option plus a few extras for £2200. I could have brought it back and then sold it in the UK for what it cost after 3 months paddling.
It then turned out matey down the road had a Big K so we went out for a spin on the local, freezing river this week. Moreaboutthat here. Short version: the BK would be a flaming good yak that could be left assembled for the duration and wouldn’t get turned away by security at the Sea Kayak Christmas Ball. On the scungy Medway it took a bit of turning in my clumsy hands but tracked fine, glided smoothly and weighs only 16kg; easy enough to portage on the shoulder. But it still has that unnerving SinKiness I don’t like and is a bit awkward to get out of – well for a spaz like me with a dodgy shin and who’s used to IKs you can fall into drunk. The Feathercraft would have been a lovely boat up in the Isles, but has the same re-entry issues as any SinK. The way I see it, if it’s bad enough that you tip over, getting back in and staying upright long enough to pump it out is going to take some luck alone. Until I learn how to roll a kayak I don’t fancy that at all. Nevertheless, I was all set on buying the slinky BK as it would cost me nothing once sold on and doubtless have been a pleasure to behold. Then Gael from SSKT slapped me out of it and pointed out that Incept from NZ will be selling their decked K40 IK in the UK next year – and without a usual horrendous UK mark up (Knoydart take note…). UK distributors Seakayakoban tell me they have a demo in stock now with the next delivery in March for around £1500.
The K40 is similar to the Grabner Holiday II which might be classed as one of the original twin-side beam IKs which begat the Gumotex Seakers I and II. The solo Seaker 1 (left; 4.8m x 75cm – 18 inches more than a K40 and 3 inches wider) is officially as expensive as the K40, though has been going at half price ($1500) from Innova in the US. A fellow IK blogger recently got one. At just £1000 that’s a great price, but the problem is the deck is fixed (packing and drying issues, IMO) and it manages to weigh no less than 33 kilos/73lbs according to the Gumo.cz website (US distributors Innova claim 60lbs/27kg). Whatever it is, I had a chance to buy a used Seaker from Czecho a year or two back for just £800, but pulled out when I appreciated you can’t take a boat that heavy on a plane too easily, nor haul it too far.
Readers have occasionally emailed me about decking a Sunny. It could be done I suppose by gluing velcro or a zip onto the sides or maybe some understraps, or even an elastic-edged canopy, like fitted bed sheets. How good will that look if I was left to do it?
It’s actually something that might be a little easier to achieve with a semi-decked Gumo Helios II (above left) were it not for those ghastly sewn-in seats they have. In fact I see Grabner offer such a thing with their Helios-like Explorer II (right; 5m x 75cm) as part of the €600 accessory package. Nein danke.
So, the Incept K40 Tasman Like Gumotex, Aire, NRS and the rest, Incept seems to be an established raft manufacturer who’s turned to IKs. The Incept K40 Tasman (4.3m x 69cm; 17kg. 14′ 3″ x 27; 37lbs) seems to have been refined since I last looked at their website at which time there was no UK distribution that I could see. There seem to have been at least two other versions but this one looks the most complete by far and following this investigation I bought a K40. I don’t know about you but for an IK, that picture below is of a pretty good looking boat. I do wonder about the 27-inch width, being used to the 30-inch Sunny, but at 30-inches I cannot imagine ever tipping out of a Sunny short of getting crossed up against a rock or branch a couple of times. If I measure 27 inches across my lap, it looks just right as long as you’re sat low. The simple answer is of course to go up to Oban for a demo.
Just like the Alpacka the K40 has a deck that zips across to one side to roll up for sunny, calm days. We like that about IKs; it keeps the legs tanned and makes packing, drying and, if necessary, draining the boat mid-water so much easier.
The hull is composed of three I-beamed chambers with twin-beam sides to help give its 14 feet better rigidity. The Sunny had round, single chamber sides which, although they get nice and taut on a hot day, the boat still flexes with the swell or even just with my weight in it. With I-beam chambers the K40 features pressure-relief valves on all three chambers including the sides rated at 5psi which are out of the water. This reduces the strain on the welded I-beam seams but it’s possible that some air will be purged through the valves as it expands in the course of a hot day. For this reason I see that Incept recommends carrying a small, top-up pump (right) as can be seen on the deck of the kayak pictured above. With it, you can re-pressurise the boat for maximum performance, and this can be done on the move as the valves (grey) are right there in the cockpit (the sidewall PRVs are behind the seat). The twin beams also add up to less width (69cm or 27 inches – 3-4 inches less than my Sunny) and so more speed – although re-entry may be harder and all without – I hope – making it too tippy. It’s got a rudder because those high sides may catch a crosswind at times. Scoffed at by Brit sea kayakers who use boats that have hull profiles designed to turn when leaning out (very odd if you’re a motorbiker!), with a rudder you can paddle normally across the wind and use the rudder to correct the tracking.
A rudder will be good for sailing too. The boat also comes with a neoprene spray deck, a handy K-Pump and even thigh straps to enable control across a swell, better core muscle work-outs I reckon, and even eskimo rolling. In fact my boat came with no spray deck, no straps, no strap fittings (though there are markers), but it did have a K-Pump. Thigh straps are one thing I missed on a Sunny, more for the efficiency of paddling effort against the torso, than balance and control of tippiness (not a problem with that boat outside of hurricane conditions). While getting the drum on the K40 I came across this videoof a Kiwi guy who did an NZ South Island coast-to-coast over a fortnight. That is, upstream from the Tasman Sea, tough portage to a pass, then paddling down to the Pacific. (Ain’t these guys heard of packrafts!) His less driven mate came along in a 100-year old wooden replica boat – they were engaged in a historic C2C re-enactment using old and new craft.
It’s actually three, short videos of two guys having a little Kiwi back country adventure. Have a look at the K40 in action on vid II at 2:20. Many times on the rivers and seas you’ll see how a relatively modest waves wash over the deck of the K40 – a Gumo Sunny would be a brimming paddling pool at this point. And again the vid reminds me of the advantages of an IK when it comes to bouncing off rocks and general abuse that would hurt a hardshell or loosen the joints of a taut folder like a Big Kahuna.
Some observations made here have been corrected once I actually bought and used a K40.
A couple of months ago I speculated that the Incept K40 may well be the long-sought successor to my ageing Gumotex Sunny, a great IK which I feel I’ve taken to the limit over the years. You may want to read the bottom half of that page first to get the drum on the Incept, but now I’ve actually spent an afternoon paddling a K40 around Shuna Island north of Oban and can conclude that apart from price, the Incept K40 ticks all the boxes. The other boat you see in the pictures is Jon’s P&H Scorpio LV – or SinK to you and me.
Weight in dimensions I didn’t get a chance to measure and weigh the boat. The K40 is said to be 4-6 inches narrower than a Sunny and a foot and a half longer. It’s nowhere near as narrow as that sounds, as you can see on the left (Jon’s P&H Scorpio LV is only 21″ wide – cripes!) but the twin side tube construction gives higher, swamp-proof sides and more internal storage space. And it certainly looks higher in the water than a Sunny which is both good and bad.
Material and construction According to the brochure the K40 is heat-welded from “a heavy-duty but light weight high-tech Polyurethane alloy [with PVC coating] … with 1100 dernier Polyester reinforcing [which is] exceptionally strong and hard wearing and is UV protected…”. Handling the deflated boat out of the water my impression was that it felt no heavier than my 14-kilo Sunny, while the fabric felt harder, stiffer, less elastic and possibly a tad thinner than Sunny-era Nitrilon; a bit more like lino compared to a Sunny’s rafting fabric. That means when you deflate it it doesn’t collapse flat like a Sunny and it may take some effort to get it into the holdall supplied. On the Incept website they admit the material they use is less foldable than Hypalon. The stiffness (good thing for performance – less good for packing) shows when you inflate it using the supplied K-Pump K100 hand pump. I was expecting many minutes and a sore arm, but before I knew it and with very little effort the three chambers were purging their pressure release valves (PRVs) at a claimed 5psi/0.34bar and the boat was suddenly as stiff as a board. Yes, the K40 has PRVs on all three chambers, probably because there are I-beams in the sidetubes.
It’s notable that the K40 has it’s inflation valves set in the cockpit. Should you lose pressure via the PRVs over the course of a hot day (and so lose some rigidity and performance) you could top-up on the water. One valve on the test boat was a bit stiff to release for pumping (left). The seat and footrest pump up quickly by mouth with elbow valves, like an Alpacka, but with notably thicker fabric than Alpacka uses for its seat. Once set up for your size and with the rudder attached, I imagine the boat takes no longer to get on the water than a Sunny, that’s about 10 minutes. I can’t say I scrutinised it very closely, but the quality of construction on this example looked pretty good; at least as good as a Gumo. They say heat welding means no glue to deteriorate over the years and maybe less weight too (though some parts of the boat are glued).
Getting in and out Before I saw the boat I feared the cockpit was on the small side, but it’s not. With one leg down in the boat and sat in the seat, I can bend the other leg and slide it inside; and this with full dry suit and other clobber on. No real need to sit on the back deck like on a hardshell or a Big Kahuna and best of all, while doing so the boat remains pretty stable. For getting out you can just pull out a leg, put it on the ground/seabed and stand up. Knowing this, my idea of stepping into the boat with the deck unzipped, pulling the hatch over me and then zipping up wasn’t necessary, except perhaps when you’ve unzipped to crawl back aboard after capsizing – something we tried later.
This zip-off deck really is a great idea for access, cooked up they say by IK pioneer Audrey Sutherland. How many folders and hard-shellers struggle cramming little bags through awkward deck hatches and then squeeze gingerly into their boats? I watched Jon doing just this after lunch on Shuna island. It’s the price you pay for speed on the water. With the Incept I can bung my Watershed UDB in the back, lash the other bag or a lunch box to the front deck and put more in front of my feet so I can easily see a week’s worth of supplies fitting with room to spare. I don’t recall seeing any lashing points, easily glued on one imagines, and not strictly necessary with a deck, anyway, but then again spec sheets say there are 25 of them somewhere [not on this boat]. As for paddling undecked, it can be easily achieved by removing the stiff hatch coaming road. The deck also features four curved GRP batons which slip into sleeves and are very chunky while not being bulky like Gumo Seawave alloy frames. It would still be desirable to be able to ride the K40 with the top down on a sunny summertime river in France.
I didn’t get fully to grips with the thigh straps and anyway didn’t really need them in the calm conditions, but it sure is nice to have them there as standard [they’re not], with easy-to-hand micro adjusters. I had a feeling the Java or some boat I had (the Safari?) had curved straps which sat over the knee better. It did take a conscious effort to brace against them and power on, but with the unusual stiffness of the Tasman that all helped achieve the surprisingly high speeds I recorded. In choppier conditions I’d imagine you’d use them to brace against tipping, or of course for rolling the boat, a trick I may yet learn one day.
Speed, stability and tracking The weather conditions for the test day in early March were very calm with a high pressure, white cloud and some mist, all clearing by the afternoon. On the water we headed out southwest against an incoming tide backed by a wind said to be 4mph (6kph), about as calm as it gets out on Loch Linnhe. In a couple of days it was forecast for 30mph+ out of Oban and was much calmer than our previous visit here. In these conditions stability was hardly tested but felt fine which was a relief considering the boat is 4-6 inches narrower than a Sunny and less even than the Java which was less confidence inspiring for me.
Although I took it pretty easy I never had ‘a moment’ in the K40, not even getting in and out. So with stability not an issue, next test was to see what this baby will do flat out! Jon had already cranked up 9kph on his Scorpio while I was faffing about, and hammering away with the 220-cm paddle the shop lent me (20cm shorter than I’m used to) I clocked 9.8kph (6mph) at some point against the breeze and tide, with a more readily sustainable 6-7kph (4mph).
This boat is definitely faster than my Sunny and these are about the same speeds I recorded in my Feathercraft Java a few years ago, also in calm conditions. The Incept is about 15% narrower and longer than the Sunny and a foot (30cm) shorter than the Java which is apparently wider but I very much doubt it. It has to be said that after less than 10km on the water that day I was worn out and aching, but I hadn’t paddled for nearly two months. Out with a speedy hardshell, I was sometimes ahead, not because I was faster than Jon’s P&H, but because compared to previous runs in my Sunny with him, it took him more time than he expected to catch me up when I was ahead. We had a bit of a race as you do, and he certainly pulled away faster, but I had a feeling I caught up and if I’d had my normal paddle and spandex ski jumping suit I’d have had him! One day soon we’ll do a race round two points on a loch somewhere to see how our speed and turning match up, boat for boat. We did a similar test once in the desert, jump starting a loaded Honda XR650L. I lost that one and it’s gnawed at me for years.
Speaking of which, I’ve never owned a boat with a rudder before, though I’ve tried others here and there and it was fun, especially when engaged in ramming (above). Initially I didn’t bother with steering and just used it as a trailing skeg. Foot pedal actuation seemed a bit vague as you press flaps on top of the inflatable footrest thwart to move the rudder lines, but by the end of my session I’d got the knack and with the wind and tide behind us, I was ruddering a lot more and finding it useful. A bit more experimentation with positioning and tension would pin it down. Early on I tried paddling with the rudder up, and into the wind the K40 did spin out after a few strokes if I didn’t correct hard, but then so did my Sunny before I got the knack of skeg-free paddling. Jon in his Scorpio was also deploying his retractable skeg in the same conditions and explained that in a proper Brit-style sea kayak you’d edge a bit to counteract the deflection of the wind on the front; the skeg is there to balance the defelction more than aid racking. Anyway, with the rudder always there and not vulnerable to fouling like a fixed skeg, why would you not use it except when paddling backwards, in which case it’s dead easy to flip it up and reverse all engines.
So there it is… What in Neptune’s name is there not to like about the K40 apart from the hefty price and I suppose the IK’s bete noir: appearance? Looks like a sort of over-buoyant torpedo to me, sat high in the water, but I can get over that if it takes me to more places than my Sunny.
2020: The K40 is hard to find new other than direct from Incept in NZ. Prices are high but you get a lot for your money. The rudder is not an extra and they should come with an K-Pump and a big dry bag and repair kit, but spray deck and thigh straps may be extra. The ’25 D-rings and attachment points’ you read about were not present on the test boat or the one I eventually bought. More on this post. It’s worth noting with boats like the similar Grabners, many of these basic items are expensive extras.
After nearly six years of splashing about, this week I gave my sun-faded Gumotex Sunny away to a mate and his kids. It was probably only worth £100. Coincidentally, Gumotex confirmed they’ve stopped selling the Sunny in Europe while introducing the new and near-identical Solar 410C.
In North America Innova (Gumotex importers) continue to sell the Sunny, although theboatpeople in California have taken it upon themselves to import the 410C direct from Gumotex alongside the slightly cheaper Sunny. There are stats on that model right here and a comparison with vaguely similar IKs here. I can confidently say I got my £220-worth out of my Sunny Gumboat since I bought it in 2006. It has at least as many years of use left in it and never failed in any way other than filling with water when the going got too rough. It’s a tough old boat and like your first decent car or motorbike, I’ll always have a soft spot for the Sunny for introducing me to packboat touring.
My only regret is I didn’t get a chance to try it out with my home made sail. Or keep it long enough to try out the hull-stiffening rods to see if they made any difference whatsoever. It’s an idea that may need doing on a Solar 410C. The Incept K40 is notably stiffer and in the pics and vid doesn’t appear to sag at all with me in it. Much of what I liked and disliked about my old Mk1 Sunny or the much-improved final Mk3 Sunny, will apply to the new Solar 410C. Be warned though, at 4.1m it might sag if you’re a solo bloater like me. The hull is covered in ‘Max 0.2 bar’ stamps but you can try giving it 5psi/0.3bar (50% more than recommended) to make it stiffer.
In 2013 I sold the Incept and went back to basics with a discontinued Grabner Amigo (above). Like the Incept, it’s rated at 5psi, but comes with no rudder, deck, PRVs, footrests or even seats to speak of. It’s what you might call a high-pressure (super rigid) Sunny or 410C.
Lashing points and loading One of the limitations of all old Sunnys is a lack of lashing points – something that an Aire Super Lynx or FC Java have plenty of. Early on, I tried to glue a few on with what I thought were the right materials and technique, but half have since peeled off. Now I’ve discovered Aquaseal or two-part glue I manage better.
Another IK limitation is that nearly half the actual width of the boat is taken up with air chambers, reducing the interior packing volume (if not necessarily payload) to less than a foot wide, especially with single side chamber boats like a Sunny (as opposed to twin-chamber bloats like Grabner H2s or Gumo Seakers). I have to say though, on the trips I’ve done – nearly a week along a tropical coast (above) with one resupply – the volume was adequate. It might not be the same story in a colder climate or when you need to carry more freshwater. The limits with the Sunny are weight as much as space; the freeboard is reduced and it swamps easily, which at sea can be a hassle if sharks are circling.
As is well known, the position of loads has an effect on what they call ‘trim’ – the level or balance of the boat. This also effects tracking (more critical without a skeg). In some pics you can see how my 95-kg weight sinks the boat in the middle. To counteract this I generally try to pack the heavy weights out at each end. Too heavy at the front is not so good for waves and rapids, but the Sunny swamps fast in these conditions anyway; it’s only on flat water that baggage positioning is noticeable.
I kept the cargo nets off my FC Java (left and above) and used those on the Spey river one time, a quick way of getting to your stuff which of course is one thing that IKs and SoTs do so much better than SinKs.
Trolley tech The Gumotex backpack/drybag is a pretty basic sack with thin shoulder straps prone to tearing, and no hip belt. You wouldn’t want to carry the 16-kilo Sunny and say, 10kg of camping gear and paddling gear more than a couple of clicks.
A £10/1kg folding trolley is a handy way of transporting an IK around rail stations or airports. It folds up neatly and fits on the bow (right). In fact, with a bit of adaptation, I wonder if it could make an upside down set of wheels for portaging? It’s nice and light but the wheels on this black trolley are too close together, or the load platform is too high so the load tips easily on rough pavements. And you get what you pay for: the tubing and construction are pretty flimsy. Protracted gumboat trolleying over rough surfaces and tracks will eventually mangle such a lightweight trolley (my second) so it needs to be treated carefully.
On the Haute Allier river in France I used a heavier-duty and wider trolley (4.2kg) that fitted well under the seat (left, with the old original Sunny seat). Where weight is not a limitation (on trains and buses), I’d use this one again, but with any trolley a wide wheel track is the way to go. It all depends how far you’re trolleying of course, and if it’s over rough ground.
Sometimes I wonder about an integrated backpack frame with wheels, or a wheeled bag with more handles. Part of the reason the OE gumbag is tearing is that when you trolley up to some stairs you can only yank it by the top clips or the backpack straps. It’s something to think about when your current gumbag rips to the point of no longer being a functional drybag. Even in good shape it’s not a serious dry bag, but what roll top is? There’s more on dry bags here.
Short version: the extended tail makes a Llama now 2.4 metres long where the old one was said to be 1.89 – 20 inches less – although my measurements make the new model only 12 inches longer. Interior length and width are said to be the same, but you’d think the new seat design might free up an inch or two and so now the next-size-down Yak may fit a 6-footer like me snugly (better control), while the added stern buoyancy will trim the boat better with my 95kg. And a pointier bow (a bit more length there too) never did a boat any harm.
Knowing that NRS, Feathercraft and a few others are on their case, Alpacka haven’t been sitting on their paddles. They’ve substantially redesigned their boats with pointier bows and extended sterns acting rather like a skeg to improve tracking, speed and trim without affecting turning. The current rafts certainly have turning ability to spare, and tracking I find fine – the bow just yaws a bit from left to right but the boat goes straight enough. Alpacka don’t offer skegs, though you can easily glue one on. My long stern Yaks never felt like they needed one on rivers and locks, but now I sail and sea paddle in longer packrafts, I couldn’t do either without a skeg.
However a bit more speed as a result of reduced yawing (zig-zagging) due to greater length, more centralised weight and added pointiness) would be nice for those long lochs. The extended back end acts like a bit of a skeg to counter the pivoting of the boat around the axis that is the paddler’s body. Interestingly, when I got my Llama I had an idea to fit a ‘trailing skeg’ like this to limit yawing; a plastic plate pinned between two arms coming off the back corners of the boat. I was told skegs make little difference but it could be easily done as an experiment, maybe on a Slackraft. Another advantage of the extended back is the added buoyancy keeps the boat level with the weight more centralised. A benefit of this ought to be that the boat will stay more level and the floor under my butt will no longer be the lowest part of the boat and so less prone to grounding. You can see here how the regular Llama sits with me in it. It may mean one won’t have to get around to glue on an extra layer of floor to save the floor scuffing in the same place.
A short slide show of an afternoon’s paddling we did a couple of years ago after the Spey. Jon in the Carolina found this route description in this book, winding in and out of a few islands and so never far from a shore which was fine by us. It’s hardly ‘out there’ but for us it was quite a step up, calculating the tides, wind, currents, UV refraction index and negotiating the swell that might have exceeded two feet at times – plus dealing with some dodgy rip on the way back that was there just where the route description said it would be. After the castle, coming back in between Shuna island and the shore, the wind or tide or something was against me while Jon glided effortlessly forth in his hard plastic boat. That’s the good thing with an IK, you get a free work out! All in all, a lovely October’s day on the Scottish west coast.
Imagine it. It’s a good summer and you have four or five days to spare, but you’re based in the UK, wracking your brains to find a decent river nearby to satisfy that urge for a good short trip, a couple of nights camping, pubs and a little white-water thrill. Britain’s, or more accurately Wales and England’s paucity of suitable rivers that are actually navigations (permitted) and therefore free from legal hassles means your list of choices is short and the Wye is bound to be near the top. It’s said to be Britain’s finest canoeing river. It probably is, but the problem is nature gave us very few to choose from before bureaucrats and landowners stepped in. Your next problem is the state of the river and whether you’ve got the right boat. The Wye has a good variety of speeds and moods and very variable rainfall; at times it’s too dangerous and claims the occasional life, though those are often novices in rented canoes. Photos you’ll find on the web will often show dramatic class III scenes, probably taken at Symonds Yat, but these are show-off photos which aren’t typical of the conditions, even at Symonds Yat. And you’ll see whitewater paddlers wearing helmets in glass-smooth water, which makes you wonder what they know that you don’t. So choosing which boat to take is a tough one for the Wye, unless you’ve got one boat, and it’s a Gumotex Sunny. I was reluctant to take my new Feathercraft Kahuna as I thought I’d scrape the bottom too much and also feared heavy water at Symonds Yat might be too much to handle. So I borrowed the Sunny and in four days of paddling never bottomed out once, though the water levels were quite high. The rest of our group had similar concerns. John had added outriggers to his aluminium Grumman canoe, but I think that was due to worries by his front-paddler, my sister Sally. John’s mate Snoz was the strongest paddler and took a plastic Pelican canoe, the only boat he owns, and my mate Michael paddled his double Pouch folder as that was all he had to hand.
The river starts off nicely and slower boats won’t fall too far behind. Bends and shallows provide ripples and eddies for entertainment and the surrounding scenery deserves all the praise it gets, though I won’t get poetic on you. The ‘no landing’ signs commonly seen on the bank remind you that canoeists are not too popular on this river. Even pubs have ‘no landing’ signs but with some determination we managed to find a place to tie up and climb out to visit the Boat Inn, which has a miserable camping garden and no customers.
We later rescued some rental paddlers (right) whose boat was stuck in some trees on a fast corner while one of their number had somehow found himself on the other side of the river at a point where it was running too fast and deep to cross. The Wye not the wildest river, but you won’t often get a mobile signal and there aren’t many roads nearby so if you get stuck, you’ll have to get yourself out of trouble or hope someone paddles by.
Our first night was spent just above Monnington Falls. It’s a muddy scramble up a bank till you reach some steps, then an orchard campsite with a decent shower at the far end. Having a light boat is a big advantage here, though a plastic canoe could be safely tied up and left by the river. A nice spot and you can worry yourself all night about how bad the falls might be next morning. In the event, the water levels were so high that the falls were submerged and the only trick was to turn fast enough to avoid being tangled up in trees in fast water. More beautiful scenery, more ‘no landing’ signs.
Hereford for lunch, but is there a good spot to land and get a lunch by the river? No, not at all, the city pretty much turns its back on the river, but we were able to tie up under a bridge and walk to a huge Tesco and bring back something. The river carried us on at a fair clip to Lucksall Caravan Park for our next night. A tiny jetty, steep steps with tight turns and a roller so you can pull an empty boat straight up the high bank are all that’s on offer, and the owners regard that as a great facility, but they don’t kayak. Groups of rental boats with bossy leaders monopolise the landing for an hour or more in the morning. All we can do is brew-up and ignore them.
Lunch and a pint await you at Hoarwithy where there’s a primitive campsite and a field with a bull in it between us and the pub. At that point I found out that my sister had a fear of bulls but my greater need for a drink overpowered that. In the afternoon Snoz showed us he can paddle standing up for hours at a time, even through minor ripply stuff. The evening brought us to Ross-on-Wye and the White Lion, a riverside pub which welcomes paddlers with camping in front of it. The awkward take-out is rocks and mud and again I was glad to be in the Sunny. The last day for us was through Symonds Yat, the last possible concern for nervous nellies, then past Monmouth (the river runs around it and you won’t see much of the town) and our finish at Redbrook, where we had left our other car. After Ross, the river picks up a bit more and enters a high-sided valley. There’s a view of the river from the Offa’s Dyke long-distance footpath that is said to be one of the finest in England (though at this point the Wye is about to return to Wales), and I wouldn’t argue with that, though ‘in the top 20’ would be fairer to say. In summer the colours and leafy splendour are fabulous and it’s peaceful indeed, a blissful meander as you approach Symonds Yat.
There’s a good pub to stop at to get some Dutch courage if you need it, but the high levels made it pretty straightforward for us. Symonds Yat is a straight shot, just line up right and you’ll be through it quickly enough. After that Snoz pulled out a bottle of Wood’s rum and some Coke to celebrate and we drifted in the sun, occasionally scrambling round our boats to find leftover food to finish off for lunch. We finished at Redbrook though things looked very enticing downriver. The Wye becomes tidal after Tintern, with no take-outs (due to muddy banks) until Chepstow.
So is it a great river for paddlers, a must-do? I proclaim it’s a fantastic river, and if you haven’t the energy or time to get over to France, it’s one of the best you’ll find in Britain. The great shame is that so little has been made of it. European rivers have towns and villages facing the river rather than facing away from it; there, rivers are tourist attractions and every effort is made to allow tourists on the bank to enjoy river views and for paddlers to land, get out and spend a little money. By contrast the Wye is a shocker, for none of this sort of development has occurred. The proliferation of ‘no landing’ signs, frequent references in the guide book such as ‘prior permission for landing requested, call 01299….’, the shabby and half-hearted take-outs, where they exist at all, it’s is a disgrace to our country, especially on a river that’s often referred to as our finest for canoeing.
I’d take the Sunny again on this sort of river, it’s a very versatile boat, mid-range for speed so you won’t be too far ahead or behind, totally stable and easy to get in and out of, and very secure in rapids and shallow water. OK you might get a soaking but you’d have to try hard to tip this boat on a river like the Wye.
Resources ‘Wye Canoe?’ is the book to get for this river, if only for the maps. As the official guide it’s full of the kind of rules and regs you didn’t want to read, but it’s got all that you want for planning.
WYE (Hereford to Ross on Wye) – classic touring. WYE (Ross on Wye to Symonds Yat East) – a classic touring paddle. WYE (Symonds Yat East to Monmouth) – a classic trip, with the famous Symonds Yat rapids. WYE (Monmouth to Redbrook)
Inflatable Kayaks & Packrafts 