The Short Version

We're Tibor and Stefan. We roll kayaks. A lot. Between us, we've placed among the top in Sweden at Greenland rolling competitions, built gear when the industry ghosted us, and decided that the kayaking world needed a community that doesn't track you, gatekeep you, or demand you climb some arbitrary "license ladder" before you're allowed to have fun.

But that's the resume. Here's the actual story.

Origins: Salty water, sneaky kids, and military plastic

Tibor: My first five years were spent on the Croatian coast, where the Adriatic meets the Mediterranean. Inflatables, worn-out flippers, holding my breath way longer than was probably safe for a kid who couldn’t actually swim yet. Being underwater just felt natural. Fear didn’t really register—it was more like “I’m good at this” and “I can definitely make it to shore.”

Then we moved to Sweden. Being nine years old, two buddies, Janne (10) and Hasse (11), tricked me into a kayak one late evening in Katrineholm. I was easily tricked :) I don’t remember exactly how they talked us into borrowing the kayaks at the club, but I do remember promising to wear a life jacket. I also remember the fun.

I had locked my bedroom door and climbed out the second-floor window using the drainpipe. I should have been doing homework, because of course I should! When I got back, climbing up the drainpipe again, my dad had broken the door down because I didn’t answer his calls. The thought that he might actually have been worried never even crossed my mind.

Stefan: My first contact with paddling was actually during coastal military service. It was more visual—I thought it looked damn cool. The military kayaks were heavy, awful, and boring, but somewhere I understood there was something else out there. A free and comfortable way to move across water.

I grew up in the archipelago with a family leisure boat—every weekend as a teenager we were out on the water. I had a fanatical grandfather who always met the family out in the archipelago. He had his own boat and it was his big passion. I nerded out more on sport fishing back then. I like being outdoors. Been climbing for almost 35 years, bouldering outdoors in that style. The connection wasn’t strange.

The real entry into kayaking came much later, for completely different reasons. My daughter wanted to join a paddling group at the canoe club in Västervik—competitive paddling, but it was only active during a very short summer period and pretty disorganized. She’s an active girl; if she does something, she does it at 110%. So we thought: why not get kayaks for the family? We bought two plastic ones so I could paddle with her. Said and done—they became her confirmation present. We started doing some tours together, joined a Friluftsfrämjandet section, and tried to learn a bit that way.

That was my entry into kayaking.

The Moment It Became an Obsession

For most paddlers, rolling is a checkbox. Learn it once, hope you never need it. For us, it became something else.

Stefan: I don’t do things half-heartedly! That’s from climbing, where I’ve been at elite level for years, building walls, running the club. I saw the same community organism in kayaking: if you’re a kayaker, especially a roller, you identify as one, just like climbers do.

The serious connection came when I met Christian Svansson (Rebel retailer). I was tired of heavy plastic kayaks. He said, “Come up and try an Ilaga.” First paddle—and I was hooked. It stood out: light, fun, different from group tours with big loaded boats. Greenland rolling and that style fit my active life—no big projects, just roof-rack, launch, paddle a few hours, home.

Tibor: For me, it was one night in 2015 on a solo paddle tour. Late evening, no boats around, not close to shore. Calm water. Then a wave came over my head out of nowhere—I was almost upside down in the dark. I got lucky: paddle in the right place, panicked the right amount, nothing happened. It probably wouldn’t have been life-threatening to swim 2 km with a loaded kayak after 5 hours of paddling, but still. I had learned to roll long before, but barely practiced it in sea kayaking. Maybe 3 out of 5 rolls on a good day. That big, comfortable backrest I thought was so practical? Turned out it would get in the way for an effective standard roll. What I needed was the ability to roll any boat, anywhere. Forwards. Backwards. Half a paddle. No paddle. In gear I hadn’t planned for. In conditions I couldn’t predict. So to continue my paddle trips safely, I started practising rolling. That became my obsession.

Who Taught Us?

Tibor: A guy in a river in Bright, Australia in the nineties. Taught me to roll in about 20 minutes. I've shamefully forgotten his name. A week later I was getting worked by what felt like massive surf outside Torquay, Melbourne. Let's say I have tasted more than a lifetime's share of sand, but that's another story.

The deep learning came later: whitewater in Åre around the millennium. Then years of pool sessions, ocean rolls, and slowly realizing everything I thought I knew was just the beginning.

Stefan: I knew Niklas Weidmert a bit—he rolled, so I contacted him. I’d seen old videos of people rolling Ilagas and thought: if I have that boat, I should learn. Niklas took this stubborn climber who believed everything was about power. We did four cold spring evenings in a lake—I was upside down, didn’t know left from right, almost drowned from pure luck before the first roll came.

From climbing I’m movement-analytical: boulder problems are about figuring out mechanics. I soon realized rolling isn’t just force—it’s mechanics. Once I cracked the keys, it worked.

The Numbers Game

How many rolls can you do?

On an average day, about 30 different ones. The Swedish rolling schema has 36; internationally around 34. Competition scoring is by difficulty—each roll has fixed points, time only breaks ties (which almost never happens above a couple hundred points).

Best ranking?

We’ve both placed well at Swedish nationals. Stefan’s usually ahead (his words, and yeah, it’s true).

The one that haunts you?

Stefan: Right now, straight jacket and handcuff on the left side—I can’t do them yet. Also reverse sweep paddle behind neck (I’m stiff in the shoulders).

Tibor: The straight-jacket roll. Still working on it. Also the clenched-fist forward sweep—that one can go to hell for now.

Favorite roll?

Stefan: Sculling under the hull. It’s smooth, flowy when the key clicks. On bad days you fight; with good technique it’s meditative.

Tibor: To show off? Back-to-front reverse sweep or storm roll—that silky feeling. For pure feel? Lately sculling rolls: start with force, then relax and it gets easier.

If you could only do one type forever?

Stefan: One I’m bad at—to train it. Left-side straight jacket or handcuff.

Tibor: Hand rolls. I might lose my paddle someday. My hands are probably sticking around.

The Humbling

Every roller has a fail story.

Stefan: Last year at a training session—practicing sculling behind back. Paddle went into the cockpit, stood like a flagpole, locked the tuilik. The more I pulled, the worse it got. I was stuck upside down, couldn’t go up or down. Had to push the paddle and lift the kayak off it to free myself—took too long, so I pulled the tuilik and swam out. Aarkänsla.

Tibor: I was instructing. Shoulder tweaked, leg half-numb from sciatica, fresh breeze. Decided to demo the storm roll anyway. Told the students it was “super easy.” Then I turned the wrong way. Couldn’t get up. Had to bail into a basic standard roll while my credibility sank faster than I did. Lesson: respect conditions, especially when your body’s compromised.

Why Rolling Matters

Beyond “not drowning”?

It’s the best self-rescue: faster, more secure than kamraträddning, especially in Greenland style—body position and flexibility, not brute force. Stefan can roll loaded kayaks, even double kayaks solo. With good clothes and tuilik/kapell, you save the day.

Greenland kayaks (ocean cockpits) are hard for kamraträddning—wingy, tight. Roll is safer long-term. (Stene Karlsson rolled into his mid-80s; no one over 75 does kamraträddning.)

Biggest misconception?

That Greenland rolling is “not for them.” It is—if you have a body and patience. It was developed for survival, not show-off.

Should everyone learn?

If you paddle alone in cold water or far from shore—non-negotiable. Make it practical.

The Partnership

How did we meet?

At a Rebel demo in Stockholm (ÖKS), then again at events.

First impression?

Stefan on Tibor: A nice, chill guy who actually knew about Greenland kayaks and skin-on-frame. Fascinated by your analytical building knowledge.

Tibor on Stefan: Why does this tattooed, bearded guy act so nice?

What does the other do better?

Stefan: You’re better at critical questions and not settling for half-assed stuff (e.g., tuilik details).

Tibor: Technical paddling. Stefan: rolling. We’re honest. No ego.

Arguments?

Not really. We share competition backgrounds (Stefan elite climbing; Tibor paragliding/snowboarding internationally). We get obsession. We point it at kayaks now.

Weirdest moment together?

That meeting in Poland at Jacek’s— like walking into a shady drug peddler den in an industrial area via the loading dock. Ended up in an office/storage room on the second floor where they manufacture high-tech gear. Lesson: cool stuff is born in weird places.

Gear Talk

Go-to kayak?

Currently testing/refurbishing modified versions (like the RazNaja project with Johan Wirsén). There is also always a SkinOnFrame kayak freshly built which needs tweaking.

Tuilik or dry top?

Tuilik. Wool underneath for buoyancy/conditions. We moan when it’s cold and windy but that is kinda fun too.

Coldest water?

Asking the wrong guys :) Year-round rolling; first winter with no ice-free spots in years. Tested rolls with the back deck on ice, not hard, just stay cool :)

Warmest?

Swedish rolling nationals (RollSM 2024) in Gothenburg. Thick wool sweater + tuilik in blazing sun. More sweat than sea water inside the kayak.

Rituals?

Pulling on the hooded tuilik makes us look like a death cult. That’s about it.

Wildcards

One sentence to introduce someone to rolling?

Stefan: “This is the coolest thing you can do.” It’s the kick when you understand the mechanical movement and body timing. Kid-in-a-candy-store feeling.

Tibor: “It’s not about force—it’s about body position and flexibility.”

What nobody ever asks (but should)?

Start your first wet session with a good, large float, not with the paddle. Everyone obsesses over paddle technique when starting rolling, but the foundation is to be comfortable upside down, letting water teach you to float up, trusting your body before gear. Also, "I need to learn with my actual gear" is BS. Make it easy first, use the best gear available. Low volume kayak, goggles, nose clip, ear protection, a hood. Then progress making each step a little more difficult.

Dream rolling location?

Stefan: A blank northern Swedish lake with crystal-clear water and calm surroundings. I like the Swedish nature.

Tibor: A kind of sleazy wish for a calm pool beneath a waterfall—totally out of place, but perfect for showing the relaxed beauty of rolling in a video.

Got questions? Want to argue about technique? Drop a comment. We’re here.

//Tibor & Stefan

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