Disclaimer: Kayak paddles come in a zillion styles with a zillion features and a zillion lengths. There is no single paddle that’s best for everyone in every boat in every situation. As if the myriad of technical details weren’t enough, the debate about some variations devolves into a religious battle reminiscent of Mac vs. PC, Ford vs. Chevy, or “great taste” vs. “less filling”. Kayak paddles are like shoes. If the shoe fits, get it wet.
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So let’s take the Werner Camano paddle and evaluate it based on its intended use. It’s designed for touring use by paddlers with a low-angled stroke. Translation: For most people. Of course, I am not most people. My stroke is anything but low-angle. My stroke is vertical. If Don Quixote saw me paddling, he’d launch an attack in my direction (windmill reference anyone?). What can I say? Physics insists that the lower the angle of the stroke, the more force is applied to turning rather than forward thrust. Oh g-reat… How’s this review going to come across as anything but a diatribe about the superiority of high-angle paddling and why you shouldn’t buy this paddle because it’s designed for something that’s bad form in the first place?

Luckily, it’s pretty easy. The thing is versatile. The ocean is nasty often enough that I’m forced to paddle from my sailboat, out of the boat basin, then make a turn to starboard up the river rather than get chased out in the Pacific by the Coast Guard. In these dire circumstances, I’m forced to lower the paddling angle to extreme degrees to avoid giving the blades mouthfuls of rocks as the depth shrinks from feet to inches. Even in deep water, the turning power offered by dropping the stroke angle can be utilized for course adjustments, or to make a sweeping turn.

Did I mention how pleasing the Camano is from an aesthetic viewpoint? It’s pretty. I opted for the version with a carbon shaft and fiberglass blades. This comes in two or three colors. I opted for red. The blades have a satisfying translucent quality. If you ever see me floating in one spot and holding one blade in the air at a strange angle, I’m probably holding the blade in front of the sun and admiring the fibers and warm glow that emanates. Note: This practice is outside of the manufacturer’s intended use. Try it only at your own risk.

Not only is it pretty, it feels good in the hands. The standard diameter is the exact diameter my hands would choose if they were kayak paddle designers. The balance is impeccable and the swing weight rivals much more expensive fiberglass sticks.

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Not many things about paddles inspire an emotional response in me. Sure, they’re integral in the kayaking experience, but they can seem rather pedestrian at times. Apparently, the folks at Werner get emotional about paddles. How else could anyone have designed such a perfect mechanism to join the two halves? Seriously. The flush mount button is integrated into the shaft so well that I had to literally look for it the first time I attempted to separate the halves. Even now that I know where it is, I still don’t always hit it the first time. A button that’s difficult to find might be a problem on your television’s remote control, but it’s fantastic on a paddle. But the button isn’t the best part. Once you press it… and pull the halves of the shaft in opposite directions, there’s a brief moment of building resistance from the development of negative air pressure. Once you get past that slight resistance, the separation releases the most pleasing popping sound you’ve ever heard. Imagine that every time you popped a bubble in bubble wrap, an angel whispered a song in your ear. The Werner Camano is like that bubble wrap, but better because you can put the pieces back together and pull them apart for hours on end. Seriously, a paddle literally made me grin a big stupid grin the first time I took it apart.

Remember when I was talking about my superhuman ability to evolve from high-angle paddler to low-angle paddler? Well… That skill isn’t infallible. You see, I often forget that I’m paddling in shallow water and revert to my highfalutin style between strokes. I’m notified of this when cringe-inducing vibrations reverberate through my hands and travel directly to my spine. If that wasn’t enough, this is accompanied by a bone-crunching sound that occurs if the water is really shallow. The first time this happened, I almost cried. When I sheepishly inspected the blade for damage, I was terrified to see a huge white crack spreading across the blade closest to my right hand. In terror, I pulled it closer to discover that the crack was some kind of bleached grass that clung to the blade as it left the water. I’m still looking for the scratch caused by the rock.

Final thoughts: While this paddle will never be all things to all people, it could definitely be all things to most people. It’s versatile. It’s well engineered. It’s well designed. It’s well built. If I was going to use this paddle every day for high-angle paddling, I’d have ordered one size smaller (I got the 230). High-angle paddle snobs might not let you ride their titanium road bikes after seeing that you own this paddle, but everyone else will want to look at it closer. Beware, they may try to touch it. Heck, I’ve considered licking mine just to figure out if it’s cherry, raspberry, or strawberry flavored.

If this message is still here, I remain torn about giving it my Ultimate Gear label for the kayak paddle category. The only hesitation is that there really is no one ultimate paddle for everyone. Then again, that feels like a cop out so I’ll probably break down in the future and just grant it the full esteem it likely deserves.