The River Brought Me Here: Kayak Culture, Community & Adventure in Buena Vista, CO
Buena Vista is a river town.
Walk down Main Street and you'll run right into the Arkansas River. Depending on the season, you'll see kayakers and paddle boarders surfing in the play park, rafts floating downstream, anglers casting from the banks, and locals gathering at the water's edge before, (sometimes during), or after work. Here, the river isn't just for recreation — it's part of the community's identity.
River people tend to organize their lives around water levels, runoff forecasts, and weather windows. Adventure isn't something they schedule once or twice a year. It's woven into everyday life.
Like many people who call Buena Vista home, I'm not from here.
The river brought me here.
In 2014, I left Georgia with everything I owned stuffed into a two-door Nissan and a Subaru Outback towing a homemade pop-up camper. I'd never been west of the Mississippi River and I'd certainly never heard of this tiny mountain town tucked between the Arkansas River and 14,000-foot peaks.
Seven days, three blown tires, and one replacement axle later, I finally made it to Colorado.
At the time, I had no plans beyond making it to Colorado. Unsure of the next step, I took a friend's advice to visit Buena Vista, where he was spending the summer as a kayak guide. I figured we'd camp by the river for a few days, catch a breath, and decide what came next. Instead, I found a community—and eventually a place to call home.
I spent that first summer in BV learning to kayak. It wasn't exactly an ideal year to learn. The Arkansas was running around 5,000 CFS—big water by anyone's standards. Most days were spent upside down, swimming, or wondering why anyone would voluntarily choose a hobby that involved so much crashing into rocks and feeling like you might drown. But somewhere between paddling sections of the Arkansas and chasing whitewater all over the state, I started to understand what made river people different.
The river wasn't just where they played. It was where they found community, a challenge, adventure. For many, it was where they found home — where their heart was full.
One of those river people, and longtime kayakers, was Nic Blake. He was previously Eddyline’s sales guy, now owner of Little Daisy Liquor Store. I asked him how he found Buena Vista. "I typed 'summer rafting jobs' into Google, ended up here, and never left," he says.
That's a story you hear a lot in Buena Vista.
Buena Vista and River Culture
One of the things that makes river culture and kayak culture unique is how small the community really is.
"There’s not a lot of us," Nic says. "If you go to any river town somewhere in the U.S., you're bound to run into someone you know."
Unlike skiing, mountain biking, or hiking, river running is still a relatively small community. And because of that, river people tend to find each other. They end up in the same places. They build the same traditions. They tell the same stories.
Buena Vista is one of those places.
With the Arkansas River flowing right through town and more than 100 miles of "zero-to-hero" whitewater—from beginner-friendly Class I floats to challenging Class V rapids—BV has become one of the greatest river towns in the country.
The river attracts a certain type of person.
Spend enough time around boaters and you'll notice that river trips aren't just about the whitewater. They’re about the people—the shuttle rides, inside jokes, superstitions, stories told at the take-out, and the celebration after making it through a rapid with clean lines.
Running rivers has a funny way of keeping you completely present while also disconnecting you from everything else. Cell service disappears. Deadlines fade away. The only thing that matters is the water moving beneath you and the people sharing the experience alongside you.
"The community is incredible," Nic says. "They're all really supportive. It's the most friendly and inclusive group. In kayaking and rafting, people are stoked you're there because there just aren't very many of us."
Maybe that's why river towns feel different.
Kayak Slang, Decoded
Spend five minutes around kayakers and you'll hear a language that sounds completely made up. Honestly, it kind of is.
Boof: An onomatopoeia for the sound it makes if you get some air under your craft. It lands with a “boof”. That’s what everyone’s always going for. "The bigger the waterfall, the bigger the boof."
Shredding: This one’s obvious. Running big rapids like a boss.
Catching Eddies: “Our little home on the river – the slow moving spots behind a rock or obstacle. Think of it as a rest stop in the middle of a moving river.
Eddyline: The current between the downstream and up stream. It’s where we’re always hanging out on the river.
Squirt: Getting your kayak vertical on its nose or tail. Usually on purpose. Usually.
Big Nasty: A big-ole hole you don’t want to hit. A named river feature on most rivers
Brown Claw: Hand gesture that looks like a bear claw. It stands for “running the Brown” — the big scary whitewater that gives you butterflies (or makes you want to shit your pants).
Going to Church: Church is the river. Being in communion with your friends and family out on the river where no one else can go — being surrounded by nature.
Chasing Waterfalls
“The best way you can spend your time is pursuing river adventure.” Nic says.
If river culture has a pilgrimage, it's chasing waterfalls. Not metaphorically, but literally. Some of Colorado's most iconic whitewater only flows for a few short weeks each year. When the snowpack melts and the water comes up, paddlers drop everything and go.
Oh Be Joyful. Daisy Creek. The Devil's Punch Bowls on the Crystal.
For most people, these names mean nothing. For kayakers, they're legendary. "People go up there just to hike because it's one of the most beautiful places you'll ever see," Nic says. "Tiny moss and mushrooms everywhere, water sparkling and rainbows flying and waterfalls—lots of waterfalls."
The catch? You have to earn it. To run Oh Be Joyful, paddlers huck their 60-pound kayaks hundreds of vertical feet up steep trails before ever touching the water.
Then the real adventure begins.
"On Oh Be Joyful you put in, paddle about six feet, and immediately drop a 15-foot waterfall," Nic says. "That's just the start."
The run continues through a series of waterfalls, slides, and technical whitewater features before reaching the prestigious avalanche—an 80-foot cascading slide. "It's really scary," Nic says. "But it's the most rewarding thing you can do when you pull it off."
The Inspiration Behind the Artwork: Juicy IPA
That feeling—the anticipation, the commitment, the reward—is what inspired the Juicy IPA. The artwork on the can pulls directly from my experience being around these brave adventurers and the waterfalls they chase—like Oh Be Joyful & Daisy Creek.
The funny thing is, you don't have to be a kayaker to appreciate what they're chasing. I'm certainly not claiming to be one of the elite paddlers chasing waterfalls around Colorado. These days you'll find me more often running the river on my paddleboard, in a raft, or simply hanging out riverside with my kids.
But that's the beauty of river culture. You don't have to run the biggest rapids, chase flows, or drop off something scary—you just have to appreciate the adventure.
At Eddyline, we've always believed beer is part of the story, not the destination. It’s the semi-warm can in your pack ready to enjoy at the top of the peak, the cold one in the cooler shared with friends around a fire re-living the day’s best moments, the cheers at the take-out after a warm day on the water.
The Juicy IPA, and all Eddyline beers were brewed for those moments. For the adventures. For the people who spend their lives chasing the next peak, the next trail, the next river, the next waterfall. The best adventures don't last forever. They become stories. And the best beers help us celebrate them.
