The Canyon, the Pilot, and the Foil

Rider: Jouke van der Meer
Photographer & Words: Caleb Conde
Date: Monday May 12th, 2025
Location: Utah, USA

Caleb Conde & Jouke van der Meer went hunting for unique foil opportunities… and thanks to the power of a foil assist system, came up against the deep time backdrops of Lake Powell’s labyrinthian canyon system.

Jouke van der Meer doesn’t really do sitting around. He’s a commercial pilot by trade, the kind of guy who sees a five-hour layover and starts googling “surf spots near Patagonia”. So when he and I woke up at 5:30am in a tipi in the middle of the Navajo Reservation in the Utah desert, it wasn’t because we couldn’t sleep, it was for a distinctly different kind of foil mission, and it was time to begin.

A few hundred meters away, the state line changes and so does the timezone. Luckily this was no trouble for a pilot used to shifting timezones daily and we started as we wanted: a sunrise ride into Lower Antelope Canyon, one of the most surreal places in the American Southwest, on boards that aren’t supposed to be there. Most people see this place on foot, elbow to elbow with tourists, cameras clacking. We were going in through the back door: the water. No one does that. It’s too narrow, too shallow, and too protected from the wind to actually foil… unless you cheat a little. We had a Foil Drive.

Now, the Foil Drive is a small motor, cleanly bolted to the mast of your foil, that turns glassy nothing into motion. On paper, it’s a fun toy. On water, it becomes a teleporter, giving you access to places humans aren’t usually able to go to. Quiet waters. Corners of deep time.

That morning, Lake Powell wasn’t exactly inviting. The wind was up with a solid 30 knots, gusting to 37. Air temp already pushing 31°C. We were 4,000 feet above sea level, and the lake was a confused mess. Whitecaps bouncing off red cliffs. Inflatable SUPs doing what they do best in choppy waters: absolutely nothing. Jouke looked out at the conditions and said, “Most would cancel the mission.” But he didn’t say it like someone weighing the options. He said it like someone already going and so we went. He towed my SUP behind his Foil Drive setup like those big caravans crossing the US towing a little Jeep attached to the back, and just like that, we turned into the mouth of the canyon and the whole world changed.

The wind disappeared. The sound disappeared. The walls rose up and closed in. The color shifted from blue and tan to Martian red and emerald green. Still water, no chop, no breeze, just reflections and ancient stone and we were gliding through it on boards from the future. We did laps, took photos, explored turns, and even got greedy. Eventually, Jouke called it: “30% battery left.”

We’d pushed it hard against wind, towing, into current and it was still ticking. That’s the thing: with a regular foil, this trip doesn’t happen. With a wing? Forget it. The Foil Drive didn’t just get us in. It gave us permission to explore. It created the opportunity and gave us the confidence to stretch it further. When the juice finally ran out, we stashed the boards and walked into the dry section of the canyon, no signs, no voices. Just sunburned stone and the sound of our own footsteps burning against the sand – also totally worth it. The way out was pure improv. The current was on our side, so I paddled the SUP. Jouke, because of course he did, pulled put a tiny parawing out of his drybag, caught what little wind was bouncing through, and coasted back across the lake.