The Early Days of CKS River Supply (And the Spirit That Still Stands)

Somewhere between Georgetown and Idaho Springs, a kayak flew off a truck. 

The sign on I-70 had warned of strong winds, but no one expected what happened next. “The wind peeled my friend's kayak off my truck and it bounced on the highway, skidded 30 feet, then hit a concrete overpass abutment,” says Rob Dubin.  “We stopped the truck and flagged down the traffic so we could get the boat off the shoulder of the road.  It had some gelcoat damage and nothing more.” 

They paddled it the next weekend. 

That kayak was built by Jim Stohlquist, CKS River Supply’s founder, back when he was laminating boats in his parents’ garage in Fort Collins. It was the late 1970s, and whitewater kayaking was still raw and undefined. There weren’t specialty life jackets or dry tops, and there certainly wasn’t a wall of purpose-built gear waiting inside a Main Street mountain town shop. Paddlers improvised, with wrestling sweatsuits as paddling jackets and hockey helmets for protection. 

If you needed something, you figured out how to make it. Jim did exactly that.

The River Called Him West

Jim grew up in the Midwest, open canoeing the rivers of northern Wisconsin with his dad. He paddled extensively across the Midwest and Eastern United States before discovering whitewater kayaking on a high school trip to the University of Wisconsin, during which he learned to build boats. 

After high school, he made a phone call to the Colorado Whitewater Association to help determine where to go for college. 

The answer was the Arkansas River Valley.

When Jim arrived, he found everything he’d been looking for. The Arkansas had everything: technical whitewater, commercial rafting just taking hold, and a small but serious paddling community. He knew it; this was his place.

While serving as President of the outing club at Colorado State University, Jim began teaching seminars on how to build your own spray skirts. In 1976, he started a boat-building program.

That instinct to teach, build, and solve problems for paddlers would shape everything that followed.

The Log Cabin Years

After college, Jim started building whitewater kayaks in a log cabin at Crazy Horse Campground north of Buena Vista. He started by designing and building kevlar whitewater kayaks and selling them through a retail catalog and word of mouth, all while working as the second commercial raft guide on the Arkansas River for Rocky Mountain Expeditions.

At the time, kayaking was just getting started. Driving down Main Street, people would ask what you had strapped to your car and what you called it. Before gear existed, they were building boats for one thing: durability. Just ask that stretch of highway on I-70.

When Gear Didn’t Exist, You Made It

As the sport grew, the need for gear became obvious… and Jim saw the gap.

As a pioneer in the whitewater industry, Jim observed that need and reached out to a motorcycle brand to develop the first purpose-built paddling jackets based on motorcycle rainsuits. 

What began as boat building evolved into a business designing, producing, and selling padding apparel, drytops, rescue gear, and bags under the brand name Stohlquist. 

It was the right moment, because the sport was expanding and paddlers were ready for equipment that was specific, thoughtful, and comfortable. The gear was finally made for the river instead of borrowed from other sports. First dry tops and dry suits, then life jackets specific to paddling: Made with super soft foam and designs that were so innocuous that you forgot you had a life jacket on.

CKS and Stolhquist quickly became a destination stop for paddlers, and folks would make a point to visit the shop and see the gear in person to feel connected to where it was all happening.

A Lifelong Customer

Years later, a paddler named Rob bought one of those early dry tops: gasketed wrists, built to last. After about five years, the gaskets wore out. He called CKS to ask if they knew anyone who could replace them. Jim’s wife (?) Bonnie answered, and told Rob just to send it straight to them. 

“They replaced the gaskets for free and they even paid the shipping back to me,” Rob said.  “I told them they had just earned a customer for life.”

That kind of loyalty isn’t easily earned; it comes from a shared understanding that river people take care of their gear, and each other.

A New Chapter on Main Street

As Stohlquist expanded nationally, Jim knew it was time to focus. In 1999, he sold the retail side of the business to the Gorby and Richmond families, who continued building CKS River Supply in Nathrop before moving it to Main Street in Buena Vista in 2001.

By then, the Arkansas River had firmly established itself as one of the most rafted rivers in the country. What began as experimentation and grit had matured into a thriving whitewater community, but the core remained the same.

CKS was still the place paddlers stopped to talk river levels, get advice before Browns Canyon, replace a forgotten strap, and simply to connect.

Why This Story Still Matters

Mountain towns change. Main Streets evolve. Businesses open and close.

But what makes a place feel real? What makes it feel rooted in a community? The stories that stretch back decades. The garage in Fort Collins. The log cabin at Crazy Horse. The boat that survived I-70. The dry top repaired without question.

For Buena Vista residents, this history is part of the town’s backbone. For visitors discovering the Arkansas Valley for the first time, it explains why this river culture feels so authentic. CKS wasn’t built overnight, but it was built by people who believed in the river before most people were paying attention.