The new year is right around the corner, and General Winter’s in the north country to stay. What’s a paddler stranded in the frozen latitudes to do? There are only three choices. Fight on through the ice, flee to warmer climes, or embrace the enemy. And if, like me, you’ve tried both fighting and running in the past, maybe you’re ready for something new. Luckily, there’s still the Third Way. The secret? Maps.

Maps? Yes. Maps. There’s nothing that quickens my pulse like a map of a place I’ve never seen—unless it’s a map of a place I know well, that is. Most of the trips that Tamia and I have taken got started on a map. There’s no better way to rekindle memories of past journeys, too. This may explain why we have three filing cabinets filled with topographic maps, not to mention dozens of atlases, at scales ranging from 1:24,000 (one inch equals four-tenths of a mile) to 1:13,500,000 (one inch equals 213 miles). We’ve also collected hundreds of road, trail, and route maps, along with scores of nautical charts. We even have several file folders filled with maps and charts we’ve surveyed and sketched for ourselves.

Of course, no one needs file cabinets today. With the right software package, you can literally have the world—including all its waterways and oceans—at your fingertips. Most paddlers discover that maps and dreams are inextricably linked, and winter’s the perfect time to dream purposefully. OK. What are you waiting for? Get maps of waterways near and far. Read the accounts of travelers who’ve gone before you. (Or talk to your neighbor, just back from a quick paddle round the Horn.) Make lists of equipment. Plan your meals. Then order whatever new gear you think you’ll need. Thoreau may have chided his readers to beware of any enterprise requiring new clothes, but he sent his laundry out to be cleaned and mended, even when he lived at Walden Pond. One era’s luxury is another’s commonplace. And vice versa. Thoreau had a washerwoman and a seamstress. We have catalog outfitters. Times change. Read more…