BUT, CAN YOU ROLL? — Reimagined
Years ago, I wrote a piece called But, Can You Roll? about what rolling meant to me at the time. I’ve been thinking about it again, and I wanted to see where I am with it now.
It’s a question that floats around sea kayaking circles like a secret handshake: “But… can you roll?”
For some, it’s a badge of honour. For others, it can unintentionally become a quiet line between “real” paddlers and everyone else. If we’re not careful, it can make the sport feel less welcoming than it really is.
Rolling is a good skill. It’s fast, efficient, confidence-building. For some, it’s the beating heart of their paddling. For others, it’s birding from a kayak, navigating through fog, camping on a quiet island, or finding a place to breathe where they can own the narrative. Whatever it is for you, rolling should never be the standard by which someone’s belonging is judged.
It’s also not equally possible for everyone. Bodies have histories: shoulders, joints, age, mobility. I’ve watched strong paddlers run rock gardens, land through surf, handle a week-long expedition… and still not have a roll. They are no less sea kayakers for it.
I chose to learn the roll as a safety tool, alongside learning about its Inuit origins and the living culture it comes from. That context matters. For me, rolling is one tool among many—valuable, but not the centre of my paddling identity.
I once accidentally implied at a work event that I could roll. Before a company trip, panic set in. I tried to learn in time, failed, and hid in the car while everyone paddled. That was when I realized rolling wasn’t just a skill—I had tied it to belonging.
When I finally started learning properly, I spent whole pool sessions frustrated while teenagers nailed it instantly. It took me seasons to trust my roll in real water. In the process, I learned patience, persistence, and humility. What felt like failure was actually a laddered learning process.
And then one day, I rolled in surf. No hesitation. No panic. Just breath and balance. I had made it—not to an end point, but to a place where I finally felt I belonged, roll or no roll.
If you can roll, great. If you cannot, I will still paddle with you. We will plan well, stay safe, and have a good time. The mindset matters more than the skill: curiosity, respect for the water, and willingness to grow.
Because in the end, kayaking is not about proving you can do one thing. It’s about belonging to a community that values many things: skill, yes, but also safety, joy, stewardship, and connection to the water.
The Learning Timeline
A cleaned-up, story-driven version of the original timeline.
Season 1
- Pool water is somehow worse than cold water. Buy ear plugs.
- Teenagers roll on day one. You contemplate taking up canoeing.
Season 2
- Peer mentorship helps—even when your peers are figuring it out too.
- Coaching is worth it, but nothing replaces practice.
- Your first reliable roll appears. A life event. Celebrate it.
- Then comes the left side. Humbling.
- You start rolling in something resembling real conditions without realizing it.
- One day… the left side finally works.
Season 3
- You try kayak surfing and get absolutely hammered. Your roll evaporates.
- You try again.
- You try again.
- You try again.
- You briefly contemplate taking up board surfing.
Season 4
- You get smashed in surf, roll up, and ride it in. Your crew cheers. You don’t even notice them at first.
- You start learning to roll in current.
- You Yard Sale. Repeatedly.
- You keep trying.
- You learn the painful truth: laybacks don’t work everywhere.
- You attempt a forward-finishing roll and fall in about a hundred times.
- One day, it clicks. You nail it.
- It feels incredible.
0 comments