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On the water, he had the ability to convince new recruits like Powers to brave the surf or chance a harrowing line through a wave- washed sea cave. As one of the early members, Powers says his kayaking “took a quantum leap” as the group evolved into “a close-knit tribe.” Soares approached the sea as both a play-
ground and a deity. Powers recalls a “brilliant” monologue in the circa 1992 film, The Ad- ventures of the Tsunami Rangers, where Soares walks across a remote,
surf-washed West
Coast beach, waxing poetically about his love for kayaking and the places it takes him. “He talks about how the sea is a nexus, how every- thing comes together where the sea meets the land,” says Powers. Of course, the Tsunami Rangers would have
REMEMBERED BY CONOR MIHELL
Master and Commander
ERIC SOARES TAUGHT KAYAKERS HOW TO PLAY
Among accomplished ocean playboaters and aspiring rough water paddlers, the Tsunami Rangers are a household name. Their deeds are captured in countless unforgettable pho- tographs: a kayak pitchpoling in heavy surf; grown men dancing foolishly at sunset on a deserted beach; a team of paddlers in hockey helmets,
lining up to pilot battered kayaks
through a rocky gauntlet. In many, the toothy grin of Eric Soares shining through the white- water figures prominently. “I remember the moment I first heard about
the Rangers very well,” says Michael Powers, 71, a photojournalist based in San Francisco’s Halfmoon Bay. “I said to my wife, ‘My God, these guys are like something right out of a comic book.’ ” Sea kayaking was a typically placid pur-
suit before Soares and best friend Jim Kakuk took it to another level in the early ‘80s with a new genre of rough-water paddling. Na- tives of Redding, California, they sought out the chaotic intersection of land and sea, which on northern California’s Pacific Coast means
26 ADVENTURE KAYAK | EARLY SUMMER 2012
cliffs, rocks, beaches and breaking waves. They surfed and rock-hopped amidst sea caves, pil- lars and arches in old-school fiberglass slalom boats and river runners before conceiving and crafting unique sit-on-top kayaks better suited to their goals. In 1985, the pair decided they needed a name: The Tsunami Rangers. Appropriately, becoming a Tsunami Ranger
involves “much practice in controlled condi- tions” and culminates with a formal rite of passage in rough water. Powers remembers one initiation where a breaking wave launched Soares into a wild side-surf that ended abrupt- ly when his kayak was impaled on the bow of a tandem like a marshmallow on a stick. Once accepted, members move up a hierarchy of naval-inspired ranks from seaman apprentice to commodore. The group is exclusive, with a maximum of only 12 “operational officers.” Powers’ first impressions of “Commander”
Soares revealed “a man of power and confi- dence.” In his day job, Soares taught marketing at California State University, where he was a passionate, humorous and eloquent speaker.
never pushed the fringes of sea kayaking and launched a rough water movement were it not for self-promotion. In this regard, Powers and Soares were a formidable duo, tag-teaming on slideshows, books and magazine articles. The troupe went mainstream on MTV and the Discovery Channel. Yet the tireless Soares still catered to the core, instructing rock-hopping classes at West Coast events like the Golden Gate Sea Kayak Symposium and regularly up- dating his blog with tips on everything from paddle strokes to ethics. Sea kayaking was left with an enormous
void when Soares passed away on February 1 at the age of 58. A routine doctor’s checkup after a seemingly harmless fall while skiing at Lake Tahoe revealed an aneurysm in his aor- ta—the same type of complication that saw him survive two complex surgeries less than a decade ago. This time, he died suddenly of a heart attack while awaiting surgery at Stanford University’s medical center. Soares’ wife, Nancy, writes on Eric’s blog
that one of his favorite lines was, “What’s next for the Rangers?” With their leader gone, the tribe’s future now seems uncertain. “Eric is a hard act to follow,” Powers says. “All of us are getting older and I don’t think we’ll ever do the hair-raising stuff again.” Still, on a snotty winter day, the 11 remaining Rangers and Arc- tic explorer Jon Turk commemorated Soares’ death with a paddle-out at San Francisco’s no- torious Mavericks break. Meanwhile, not so far from Soares’ home
surf, The Hurricane Riders—a loosely or- ganized group of young, brawny paddlers in British Columbia with a growing list of wildly popular YouTube videos—carries on the Tsu- nami Ranger tradition of shock, awe and rever- ence for the sea. Hurricane Riders co-founder Rowan Gloag
says, “Like the cool older brother you look up to, Eric was the paddler I wanted to be. I will forever be in debt to Eric and I will surf hard in his memory.”
PHOTO: MICHAEL POWERS
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