By Sean Jansen
It was never lost on me. The support from Pau Hana when I reached out many years ago asking for a board for my 141-mile circumnavigation of Yellowstone Lake. That trip started it all for me. It started my deep admiration for the great outdoors, it started my love and compassion for wild places, and it led me to believe that I was much more capable to do things and give back in the process than I ever thought before.
Todd, the founder of Pau Hana, sent me the Endurance Air for the trip, a twelve-foot inflatable expedition SUP and I set off into the largest high elevation lake in North America, Yellowstone Lake in the same national park of its namesake and paddled along the grizzly bear-laden shores in search of an endangered fish. Tied down on the deck of the board were two dry bags chalk full of camping and cooking gear and paddled to distant shores on the lake to set up camp and cast out in hopes of a strike. I had to occasionally look over my shoulder to ensure one of North America’s largest carnivores weren’t approaching me, but I felt an incredible sense of pride being able to accomplish the 141 miles over the course of three days on an expedition board like the Endurance Air, and felt inspired to go even bigger.
I returned from that trip and got the story published in everything under the sun, praising Pau Hana and their design to the best of my abilities all to say thanks for giving me a board and believing in the power that an individual can feel, and return should a window of opportunity be presented.
Fast forward a few years after that trip and I was on the shores of the Sea of Cortez with the Endurance Air’s older and wiser cousin, the Endurance XL – hard board –and pushed off from the northern shores of Baja and began my life changing journey, paddling south down the second longest peninsula on earth.
The goal was similar to that of Yellowstone as I was once again raising awareness for an endangered species, but this time a mammal, and the most endangered mammal on the planet, the vaquita porpoise. I conceptualized the trip, paddling down Baja while on the paddle trip in Yellowstone National Park. Staring at the board that was gifted to me while it laid, halfway on the lake and half on the gravel shore, fully loaded while taking a break, and I visualized what it would be like on a sea, in a far distant locale, perhaps on an island all to myself. I discovered the Vaquita and my lifelong passion of travelling to Baja as a surfer from California, and connecting the dots thereafter wasn’t hard.
Todd once again graciously gifted me a board for the expedition, and I gave it a whirlwind of a ride. A funny side note from the trip, by the time I received the board to when it was time to start the expedition, I couldn’t test it out, whatsoever. So, I sat there mildly stressed in a hotel room near the shores of the Sea of Cortez, stressing all my gear, which was insurmountably more than the Yellowstone trip, and hoped and prayed the board floated with my gear and me on its decks. I was petrified, but I stepped on the deck and stroked away on what little did I know was going to be a metaphorical aircraft carrier.
What I stressed about leading up to the trip all but drifted away while the water careened off the rail of the board, gliding down the coast. The first week went by without so much as a scratch to show for it before the first mishap. Like any ship, it took on water by way of a puncture hole from a wave crashing down with my board and a hundred pounds of gear and water slamming onto a dry rock. I was devastated, but with a simply epoxy repair kit, it turned into a battle scar with more militant operations down the coast waiting to be confronted.
One on one battles turned into full on wars with the wind. This board was both a metaphorical aircraft carrier as well as a blue water sailboat. Like most sailboats, when capsized, they can right themselves and flip back over, and though the Endurance XL can’t right itself on its own, in the one event I capsized along the entire thousand miles I paddled, the cargo netting that Pau Hana provided kept all the dry bags in place and flipped over with ease, ready for more. The five-to-six-foot waves that battered me along the coast, flipping my board over, but the operation was far from over and the Endurance kept cruising down the coast.
The board didn’t just shine in rough conditions on the sea, it also performed on land. In Baja, the desert of Mexico is unrelenting. The obvious threat of the sun and heat can take its toll in obvious ways, and I am happy to report that I responsibly was able to prevent any kind of sunburn on my skin. But I can also say that the Endurance didn’t as well. The finish and ricochet technology were a lifesaver for me in multiple ways. It protected the board against the incessant heat and beam like sun in the heat of the desert, but it also protected the board against sand.
Sand blew in off the beach sometimes at 50 miles per hour and when that happens, the board was in the direct line of fire as I often used it as a shield to protect myself. I also had to drag my board twice down the beach along the sand and as stupid of an idea as it was, each time, it saved me in both events. But it was like dragging your board along a giant sheet of sandpaper. But the ricochet technology shined and to this day, dragging it a total of three miles along the sand, it has no holes or exposure to the epoxy or foam core and can still be used.
The board faced every dilemma I threw at it like a mathematician with a chalk board. A complex problem would be thrown its way by way of waves, current, weight from water carry, wind, hurricane, even a shark bump, and the board grabbed the metaphorical piece of chalk and got to marking up the board with an equation solving for x.
I trusted this board from the first morning I put it on the water until the last moment, 1,004.5 miles later at the tip of the Baja Peninsula of Mexico when I loaded it into a panga, finishing the trip. It was a tank, an aircraft carrier, a blue water sailboat, a life raft, a sled, and dare I say a friend when I needed it. It protected me from the harshest of the Baja environments and kept me comfortable when standing on its deck for hours on end until was able to finish the trip 123-days later. I am forever grateful for the trust that Pau Hana instilled in me and will never forget even nearly a year after finishing the trip. I can’t recommend this board enough for anyone out there hoping to fulfill their own expedition dreams and I cannot personally wait until the next endeavor, which Pau Hana, cough, get ready!
I wrote a book about my 123-day, 1,004.5-mile SUP journey down the Baja Peninsula titled Paddling with Porpoise for anyone interested in buying. 100% of the royalties from the book will be donated to conservation of the Vaquita in hopes it can be protected before it goes extinct. Thanks again Todd, Pau Hana, and most importantly Mother Nature for granting us a window to see and test this board in one of the most remote and harsh environments in the planet.
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