Dressing for Success
What Price Safety? Are Drysuits Worth the Cost?
“What should I wear today?” For paddlers who find the lively music of meltwater-swollen rivers all but irresistible, this isn’t a frivolous question. It is — or can be — a matter of life and death. And for a while now, the gold standard in early season apparel has been the drysuit. It combines outstanding protection with pretty fair comfort. But “What Price Safety”?
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by Tamia Nelson | April 7, 2015
Listen! Unless you live in the northernmost reaches of Canoe Country, chances are good that you can already hear the sound of rushing water, if only in your inward ear. The sun’s return has roused the rivers from their winter sleep. And the music of the moving water is calling to all paddlers.
But that newly liberated water is cold. Icy cold. Cold enough to kill an unprepared swimmer. Do I exaggerate? Not at all. Any paddler who’s dumped in frigid water will tell you that the experience isn’t something she’s eager to repeat. Even with proper clothing, an icy drench is a potent reminder of our mortality. And without proper clothing? The best outcome is a narrow escape. The worst? A body bag.
None of this will be news to any paddler with a few seasons under his keel. But what exactly is the “proper clothing” for cold-water boating? The answer to that question (as to so many others) is, “It depends.” But on what does it depend? On four things, principally: (1) On the degree of objective risk. Cold is a matter of gradation. Playing the eddies in a sun-warmed river in May isn’t the same thing as riding a torrent of snowmelt in March. (2) On each paddler’s willingness to hazard his life — and if worst comes to worst, the lives of any would-be rescuers. (3) On his tolerance for discomfort. And lastly, (4) on the depth of the paddler’s purse. It’s not something we like to acknowledge, but we only get as much safety as we can afford, and many paddlers must outfit themselves on the cheap. Or find some other recreation.
In other words, “proper clothing” for one paddler can be an unattainable ideal for another, or simply an unacceptable nuisance. I was reminded of this by a letter from John Neal, whose name will probably be familiar to long-time readers of this column. John had a deceptively simple question:
Just wondering if you have any ideas on paddling when it’s still early enough to look like winter, even though the open water beckons, and are there special techniques a cold-weather paddler should know? I’m also curious if you have an opinion about whether a drysuit is worth the very steep price, compared to a wetsuit?
At first, I was tempted to reply by directing John’s attention to some of our earlier columns on hypothermia and its consequences, not to mention the danger posed by the ice shelves that linger long in bays and eddies. There were also our articles on some indispensable (if intangible) additions to the Ten Essentials, on the importance of food and drink in keeping the chill at bay, and on the broader topic of cold-season outfitting, beginning with that most vital of paddling Essentials (even though it’s not one of the Big Ten), a properly fitted PFD.
But while these articles were all germane, and each touches on some “special techniques” of importance to cold-weather paddlers, I soon realized that none of them addressed John’s second question:
Is a Drysuit Worth the Price?
Questions of this sort often elicit a flippant response. Something along the lines of “How much is your life worth?” But such jokey quips are both offensive and misleading. They ignore the intricate balancing act that characterizes all outfitting decisions. Few of us have unlimited resources. And while all of us want the best for ourselves and our families, we can’t always afford it. That being said, there’s little doubt that the paddling drysuit represents the ne plus ultra in cold-water wear — the gold standard, if you will. Unlike the aptly named wetsuits, drysuits keep icy water on the outside. They can also permit a full, unrestricted range of motion, without the constant nagging tugs and chafes that afflict wetsuit wearers. It must be said, however, that the tight gaskets (aka “seals”) at neck, wrists and ankles can prove too restrictive for some. The neck seals are a particular irritant. A too-tight seal at this critical juncture between body and head can even compress vital arteries, eliciting the carotid sinus reflex. In extreme cases, loss of consciousness can follow.
There’s also little doubt that wearing a drysuit on a sunny spring day can leave a paddler feeling as if she’d wandered into a sauna. The paradoxical result? The afflicted paddler can suffer hyperthermia while paddling in water whose temperature is only a degree or two above the freezing point. Still, drysuits derive almost all of their insulating properties from the clothing worn underneath, with Thinsulate and fleecewear being favorite choices. So an overheated paddler can make some adjustments to her wardrobe by shedding one or more of her insulating undergarments. But only up to a point. She can never afford to forget that the drysuit’s primary purpose is to protect her during an unplanned swim (or a roll, planned or unplanned). The insulating layers she removes in order to be more comfortable might be just what she needs to survive in a hard chance. Perfect comfort is seldom compatible with perfect safety. Tradeoffs of some sort are unavoidable.
That being the case, let’s …
Weigh the Pros and Cons
And we’ll begin with …
The Good Things About Drysuits. If undamaged, well designed, and properly fitted, a drysuit is indeed the ne plus ultra. No better protective garment exists for boaters who risk unplanned dunkings or prolonged immersion in icy water. And survival in adversity is the raison d’être of protective gear, isn’t it?
This is not to say that drysuits are unsuited to less extreme conditions, of course. Paddlers who’ve endured long hours in wetsuits — and suffered the painful chafe that often follows — will find welcome respite in the drysuit’s less restrictive drape. And the introduction of waterproof relief zippers has addressed one of the drysuit’s few points of inferiority, making it possible for drysuited paddlers to pump ship without disrobing, though such is the intrinsic unfairness of things that most women will discover that only practice makes perfect.
So far, so good. But as has already been suggested, even the gold standard can exhibit small flecks of tarnish. It’s time to look at …
The Downside of Drysuits. In a word: cost. You easily can drop a grand (USD1000) on a drysuit. And not all of us have a grand to spare. Fortunately, wetsuits offer (almost) comparable levels of protection at significantly lower prices.
Durability is also a concern. Wetsuits continue to protect when punctured or torn — if the tear is small, that is. But a breached drysuit is no longer dry. And if a hitherto undetected puncture (or a damaged seal) admits water in a capsize, the freezing wearer will also find his movements hampered by his sodden undergarments. Moreover, the thicker these waterlogged insulating layers, the more restrictive they’ll be. The upshot? Paddlers who wish to avoid unpleasant surprises must inspect their drysuits meticulously before and after every outing, and test the suits’ integrity frequently. A repair kit is mandatory, even on day trips. At the very least, be sure you keep a roll of duct tape handy.
And what about comfort? Well, most paddlers will find drysuits much more comfortable than wetsuits offering comparable (or nearly comparable) levels of protection. But some will find the gaskets impossibly restrictive, and paddlers with impaired circulation may be well advised to avoid any clothing which compromises the flow of blood to their extremities, effectively ruling drysuits out of consideration. Caveat emptor, in other words. Buyer (and boater) beware.
The Bottom Line?
If you can afford a drysuit, and if you can tolerate the snug-fitting seals at neck, wrists and ankles, you need look no further. But what if you can’t? What if the budget (or the seals) can’t be stretched far enough for comfort? Then you have two choices: Buy a wetsuit or restrict your boating to the more clement seasons. Both alternatives are good ones. My first paddling garment was a cut-down diving wetsuit, and though it chafed like hell, this did very little to dissuade me from making the most of every opportunity that came my way to paddle whitewater. To borrow the words of Australian cyclist Stuart O’Grady, “Pain is temporary, but memory is forever.” On the other hand, if you find wetsuits unbearable and drysuits unaffordable, take heart. There are as many pleasures to be had on a beaver pond in August as in a snowmelt-fed April torrent. You just have to adjust your expectations — and open your eyes.
In short, you cut your coat according to your cloth. A drysuit is certainly a “proper” garment for spring paddling. None better, in fact. But is it worth the high price? That’s a question only you can answer.
“What should I wear today?” For paddlers who find the lively music of meltwater-swollen rivers all but irresistible, this isn’t a frivolous question. It is — or can be — a matter of life and death. And a sudden, unexpected swim in an icy freshet is nobody’s idea of a good time. Which is why the gold standard in early season apparel has long been the drysuit. It combines outstanding protection with pretty fair comfort. These virtues come at a price, however. Is the drysuit worth it? I can’t answer that question for you. But why would you want me to? You have the facts. The decision is yours.
