The Synq Saga

From Sweden to Poland

Summer of -25, the squad consisting of Johan, Stefan, and yours truly, Tibor, jumped on an overnight car ferry and sailed over to Poland. Destination: Rebel factory to link up with Michael and Bartek of Rebel Kayaks. Official excuse? Business meeting, future collab talk, and eyeballing the kayaks we’d ordered. Real reason? Obviously a few beers (or... three), some proper face-to-face time, and just generally geeking out about boats and construction with people who get it.

The timing was not-so-perfect: our own 'yaks were still mid-build, so we had zero pressure and all the time in the world to just… talk. Ideas flying, coffee flowing, the usual mix of serious production chat and absolute historic gossip. Some of which you can read about here.

Around the table

We spent hours around that Gospoda table munching away on some great Polish dish I can't pronounce, brainstorming about how to make a Rebel website feel less like a boring catalogue and more like… well, us. More raw, more connected to the actual paddling life. Especially the messy, fun, obsessive side of it.

Between sips and laughs we got into the juicy stuff: tuiliks (those gorgeous Greenland-style paddle jackets which makes you look lika e cult member), little design tweaks on accessories that suddenly make everything feel right in your hand, the kind of details you only notice when you’ve been freezing your ass off in the same gear for years.

Accessories, you say? Yeah… just wait, baby. Soon. Very soon.

Archeological findings

Then Johan drops this bomb mid-conversation: "Wait… remember the Synq? That little compact play/surf thing I designed ages ago? The one that was actually bloody good but nobody gave it credit?”

Turns out he'd made a plug for it way back, left it at the factory, and kinda forgot about it. The only real crime it committed? Footwell too tight for big Western feet (or actually stupid moonboots for kayaking if I have a say). Otherwise, paddling-wise, it was spot on.

Next thing we know, we’re all trooping out to the back lot like excited kids. And there it is: the old plug. Still standing after twelve years of Polish sun and weather doing its worst. Let’s just say it had… character. Cracked, peeling, ragged bits of ancient paint hanging off it like zombie skin. Beauty? Hard to spot through the apocalypse aesthetic.

But something about that sad, weathered shape lit a fire. We looked at each other, shrugged, and went full salvage mission. Hoisted the dusty relic onto Stefan’s roof rack, tied it down and drove the whole thing back to Sweden.

Felt less like picking up an old mold and more like rescuing some ancient kayak scripture from a forgotten tomb. Pure artifact vibes.

Back in Kalmar we dropped Johan off, waved goodbye, then straight into arranging a kayak festival in Västervik the very same week. No stress. Just another normal week in the life. 😏

A moment (or two) later

Some time later, like weeks, Stefan and I visited Johan again on Öland.

Anyway, this time the German distributor of Rebel and Gearlab, Uli (Böttcher) and his wife Ruth were also there. The Synq had started to take on a new life and it was actually looking pretty! Johan had raised the front deck to make more room for larger feet (or stupid boots), slightly enlarged the cockpit, and maybe even lowered the back a bit? Though that’s up for debate; with bigger buttocks your point of gravity shifts when you lean back... Johan described how he had rebuilt it practically with some laminated plywood, foam, tape, paper clips and what not, but I still have no clue, referring to it henceforth as Black Magic. Yeah. Anyways, Uli was there with his camera, capturing the quiet satisfaction that comes when something forgotten begins to look pretty and useful again. In the pictures we try to look as if we know what we’re doing. Just saying.

Will it blend? Ehm… float?

Time flies when you’re having fun (or losing your mind). While Johan was still elbow-deep in shaping, sanding, and probably swearing at fairing compound, Stefan figured it was time to see what the Synq could actually do.

Come October, he just… went for it. Straight into proper stormy weather. 20 m/s winds, big messy waves. The kind where you’re not really paddling forward so much as getting launched through the chaos. We all quietly agreed he’s completely bonkers. (Shh, don’t tell him we said that)

Every single time he came back looking like a drowned, pissed-off arctic fox — beard plastered flat, eyes lika saucers, teeth chattering, but with this massive, deranged grin that says “I’m alive and I loved every second of that suffering.” You know that one guy, happy When Shit Hit Fan (as Borat would say), but somehow thrilled about it.

Despite the sleek, compact Greenland-style lines, this thing punches way above its weight in rough stuff. It surfs like it’s got a personal invitation, tracks straight when you need it to, and feels surprisingly planted for such a low-volume boat. It’s legitimately one of the most stable Greenland-style kayaks you’ll find in this size class — and yeah, it might just have a sneaky second life as a capable day-tripper, wave-play toy, and roll-practice machine all rolled into one.

Bottom line: Stefan’s mad scientist test-piloting paid off. The Synq isn’t just pretty, it’s properly capable. And apparently, it turns grown men into giggling, hypothermic maniacs. Worth it? You bet.

The Jedi and the Padawan

Back in Borgholm, Öland, Sweden, Europe, master Johan spent October and November working through the surfaces — smoothing, fairing, and refining the complex shapes and layers. I told you, Black Magic… His new padawan Tibor joined him for a few days, trying to learn the craft of preparing a kayak plug in Johan’s famously dusty workshop. They worked late into the evenings, surrounded by half-finished molds, big machines, tools, and the hum of sanders. A guy that has had around 40 of his boat designs in serial production obviously knows a little thing or two about his craft. When the dust settled, we would actually register in the camera’s pixels.

Somewhere in between, Johan also started working the Naja to become a new plug too — but that’s a tale for another year. Can you hear the drumroll yet?