I got into Greenland paddling in my mid-20s after damaging my shoulder in a board surfing accident. At the time it seemed pretty boring compared to the surf and whitewater paddling I was doing before, but because the paddle is much easier on the shoulders it was a way for me to stay on the water at least.
For the first year I couldn’t paddle more than a quarter-mile even with a Greenland paddle, but gradually things started to heal and during that time I slowly built a Greenland rolling skill set. I was never a great roller but all that time spent messing around underwater transformed my brain in a way that I wasn’t aware of until I hit the surf in Whitewater again in my late 20s.
Before Greenland rolling my Whitewater game was filled with adrenaline and anxiety. After Greenland rolling I was calmer and looser in the rapids, I braced more and rolled less, and if I did accidentally wander into a sticky hole I found that almost any position the river could force me into I was already halfway through some sort of Greenland roll.
I was popping up twice as often and twice as fast which translated into more oxygen and a lot more mental space to work through whatever sticky situation I was in.
This is the magic of Greenland skills, it’s not about being able to do the fanciest or hardest rolls (at least not for me) it’s about how the time spent practicing unwires your brains natural panic responses.
For traditional kayak hunters this was literally a matter of survival (imagine keeping a cool head while tangled in your harpoon line and being dragged sideways by an angry walrus and freezing water with nothing but bear skin pants and a seal skin jacket.)
For modern paddlers the risks are optional but the same training system pays huge dividends even if Greenland paddling isn’t your main area of focus.
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