Rolling resistance

This weekend was the first weekend that I haven't paddled since the first week of school, for two reasons; 1) it hasn't rained in a week and a half and all the rivers were low, 2) it is the coldest day of the year to this point, there was a significant amount of frost on the ground, and the idea of getting wet in gorge devoid of sunlight is too much to bear. So instead of whitewater, we went in search of a different type of gradient: Mountain Biking. Arron, Jared, and I headed out to Capitol Forest to roll down, across and up some mountains. The trail that Arron selected was a one-way ride from the top of Capitol Peak to Mima trail head. We parked my truck at Mima trail head and drove the dirt roads that wind their way through clear cuts and coniferous forests. The weather was ideal for riding, sunny and cold (about 35 degrees), and dry. At the top we discovered that Jared was missing a few things, a helmet, proper clothing, and technical mountain biking skills, which we discovered 100 yards down the very steep trail, at this point we collectively decided that it was best that he go back to the car and drive to Mima and hang out. The idea of him taking a header and walking out of there in the dark was not something that I wanted to experience.

After Jared when back to the car and was on his way Arron and I dropped off of the mountain. The trail started off very steep and mildly technical that switchbacked down the mountain for about a mile and a half/two miles. This section was fast and fun, and quickly reminded me how much I enjoy riding my bike. There were plenty of technical sections that required quick reaction, and made the trail more exciting, also there were smooth steep spots where we could let off the brakes and feel the speed. At the high elevations the ground was hard and frost laden, which was ideal for riding, also the traction was good and there was no mud. After several miles we entered clear-cuts where the mid day sun had warmed the ground and the mud started. My tires were so caked with mud that riding felt like driving in the snow, the gully that created the trail acted as a train track that maintained my ability to stay out of the bushes. The mud was in everything and was gumming up the dérailleurs and filling my mouth with grit. There were also some sketchy ruts where the ground had frozen, so from time to time you would have to pick the most defined rut, put your tire in it, and ride it out.

After riding for about an hour and a half we came to a river that designated the beginning of our uphill journey. We filled up with water in the creek and mentally prepared ourselves for several miles of false flats and technical uphill riding. We ground away in first gear slogging through mud and overgrowth as we gained elevation. After about 30 minutes of this I was beginning to miss my kayak. The trail was forgiving though, the amount of technical riding was limited, so you could get into a rhythm and make progress instead of focusing on hopping over rocks and roots. Growing up riding in New England was paying off, riding this trail was a cake-walk compared to the trails in Dog-town.

By the time we reached the top of the hill it was getting late, around 3:45 - darkness occurs around 4:30-5:00 - so we were motivated to finish the final 5 miles back to the car. This whole ride I had been following Arron because he had ridden this trail before, and since I did not have a map I was fairly reliant on his local knowledge. So we began our ride to the car, a combination of downhill, cross country and climbing. At this point in the trip I was starting to feel my lack of energy and was really looking forward to our arrival at the car. After passing a sign that indicated that we only had 3.5 miles left I was relieved. And this is where it got a bit scary.

Like I mentioned before I was following Arron and wasn't paying as much attention to the signs as I should have. While we rode down hill we approached a fork where Arron had gone left, we continued on this trail until we reached a gate that was not where our car was, and he admitted to me that we had taken a wrong turn. So we began to follow the loop around and hoped that it would meet up with the trail again. At this point I was really starting to Bonk, and our current predicament, the waining light, and my lack of additional layers was stewing in the back of my mind. For the next 30 minutes we followed our internal compass back to where we thought the trail was. After much frustration and a few miles we came across a sign, "Mima CG, 5.5 miles". Great. We're back on track, but we've got over 5 miles to ride, by now I had officially bonked and was having difficulty riding properly, I wasn't getting out of the seat and spent as much time gliding as possible, but at least we were going in the right direction. A few miles later we came back to the spot where we had gone wrong, with 2 miles left and failing light I wanted to get out of there. The rest of the ride was easy despite the lack of light, if it had been a technical trail I would have needed to walk. We finally pulled into the parking lot at Mima just before complete darkness.

The scariest part of this was the prospect of getting stuck in the dark with inadequate clothing, and because I was out of gas. The last time I had felt this way was when Dad and I had ridden in France, I had bonked after a long 80 mile day and layed in the trunk of the car while he took my shoes off for me. It felt good to push my body in this manner, but next time I'll do it with more sunlight and on a warmer day. It also reminded me that when riding in these conditions I need to bring more than just water, a gu packet, additional layers, and a MAP would all have been helpful. It also reminded me that just because we're not running class IV and V whitewater doesn't mean that there aren't unseen dangers, and being in capitol forest is just as secluded as a gorge in the Olympic Peninsula.

Once at the car I had to take some time to relax, drink water and get some sugar into my system, I was shaking a bit and was completely out of energy. Luckily Arron had a granola bar and some snacks, so I sat, ate, and slowly took off my shoes.

I don't have any pictures for this post because I left my memory card in my computer drive, so unfortunately you'll have to paint a mental image for yourself.

Tilt-on

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Tilton River 1300 cfs.

Class III-IV

Today was a low key day on the Tilton river, which is typical for our backyard run. We met at the regular meeting spot, a department store similar to an up-scale version of Wal-mart. It was a small group this morning, Chris, Gregg, and I.

At the Ike Kinswa state park we ran into another group, chris knew one of the folks but the rest were strangers. We suited up and made our way to the super-secret-put-in that is located on a christmas tree farm. Our friend Brian knows the owner and got permission to put-in on their property instead of putting on 2 miles upstream on a class II stretch.

I decided that I needed to paddle the playboat again today, a decision that I always end up regretting during the last mile or so, sore ankles, knees and spending plenty of time upside-down contribute to that. But the surfing part is really fun so it's a double edged sword.

At the top of "surf city" we pulled over and hung out while we took turns surfing the glassy wave at the top. While we surfed the other group caught up to us and we spent the rest of the trip paddling together.

I got unintentionally worked in a hole in surf city, and spent a little time trying to figure out how to get out of it. In the picture you can see the hole over Gregg's shoulder.

Once we reached the lake we decided to stop and stretch the legs and take a walk up Cinebar creek and took a look at the water fall that pours through a narrow notch in the rock. A short hike with a sweet view.

The temperature was cold but there was no rain so it made it more comfortable. All in all it was a high quality day on Tilton River. It was nice to have a low adventure day to finish up the weekend.

Sockin' it to the Sauk

Friday, November 27, 2009

North Fork Sauk 2100 cfs.

Class IV+, 2.0 mi.

Thanksgiving was over and it was time to work off the stuffing, turkey, pie, wine, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and seconds of pie. So jP, Jon Shelby and I geared up for a uncommonly run section of river, a continuos class IV+ the N. Frk, of the Sauk. The rapids consisted of wide boulder gardens that we could pick our way down one eddy at a time, with plenty of opportunities for pinning or bumping your way down the river bed. The weather was ideal, cool with a sky that is pock-marked with blue sky and sun.

We put-in just after 12 pm, about 1 mile above the first rapid on the run, a class II section with a bounty of enormous sequoias, and other large trees that I cannot Identify. We ducked underneath and paddled around these prehistoric pieces of lumber as we warmed-up and got our heads in the right headspace for the rapids that lay down stream.

The first 1/4 miles of river had several large drops that needed to be scouted from shore by the group. The first big drop Jon and I walked around because of wood that was in the main line, the drop was runnable still but we didn't have a good feeling about it so we took the dry line. JP ran it and had a very stylish line down the middle, threading the needle through the boulders and wood.

Beyond this rapid there were about 100 yards of class III-IV boogie water before we came to the next horizon line. JP scouted the first part of the drop from shore, and the three of us dropped down to the large green eddy above the bigger of the two drops. JP and I caught the eddy with ease, but Jon caught his nose on the rock, got flipped, and nearly went over the next drop backwards. Jon turned on the juice, and managed to paddle enthusiastically to the eddy. We got out and scouted, it was a slot on the left side of the river with a S-turn followed by a boof off of the the lip at the bottom. The picture below is of JP running the rapid. My favorite rapid of the day without a doubt, relatively easy with enough pucker effect, and a big reward. I wish the picture gave the drop justice, it looks really flat from the overhead angle.

Beyond this rapid the river got busy for about 1/4-1/2 a mile or so, as we hopped from one eddy to the next we worked our way down stream. We looked for the most ideal lines and typically were able to identify them, but sometimes ended up running some marginal sections of the river.

After several scouts, and more boogie water we approached a large rapid that we scouted from the road on the drive to the top (Pictured at the top of the page). A large drop with several opportunities for carnage, two big holes at the top, with a boulder slalom at the bottom. The left: a piton rock with a log to its left that was in play, to the right: the currents flowing underneath a log pile the formed the river right side of the river. JP ran, again with a stylish line down the left, just underneath the log. Jon ran and pitoned (the act of hitting a rock with the nose of your boat) hard on the rock, flipped, flushed around the left side, attempted one roll and swam. JP took off after the boat and Jon, Jon managed to swim to the left shore with his paddle. Meanwhile I was still looking at the rapid, once JP and Jon were out of sight I realized that there was no way that I was going to run this thing with no eyes on me, so I began the arduous task of shlepping my boat up and over the log jam on river right. By the time I had got back to river level JP was on river left waiting for me to come around the corner. I got back in my boat and navigated towards him.

"The boats gone"

"What?"

"It took off around the corner, Jon went after it on shore, we need to chase it down"

JP and I skirted up and took off down stream, keeping an eye out for a large orange piece of plastic, that we were hoping would get stuck or pinned on a rock. We were approaching the take-out and were concerned that the boat may have run the class VI drop called "north fork falls", a burly rapid that leads into a unrunnable 40 foot waterfall. After paddling for about a quarter mile we began to give up hope for Jon's boat. As we rounded a left hand bend we saw Jon, standing his water laden boat on it's tail as he drained the remaining gallons of water from it's hull.

"I didn't think I was going to see it ever again, and I am not in a stable enough financial situation to buy a new boat".

We were all relieved that the boat was found, but a bit shook up by the swim, further proving that "all's well that ends well". Once we were all back in our boats, we made our way down to the next island rapid. The right side of the river had a thin line with a lot wood that looked ugly, the left side was a straight forward class IV. Unfortunately we had scouted from river right, so we had a slightly difficult time getting back to where we wanted to be.

Just before 4 pm we reached the last eddy that was above the Unrunnable class VI. After climbing out of our boats we sat on the river side and talked about the day. The North Fork of the Sauk was the most fun section of river that I have gotten on this year. The rapids challenged my paddling skill, but were manageable and gave you enough pucker effect to remind you that you are alive. The water level was ideal for a first time run, enough water that the river bed wasn't trying to break its way through the hull of my boat, but also not so pushy that it would be difficult to maintain control. On this day some of us socked it to the Sauk, and some of us got Sauked.

The green river killer

Wednesday, November 25, 2009.
Green River 2200 cfs, class III-IV 6 mi.

It's funny how sometimes you don't plan on going paddling, it just happens. And on those days it seems to turn out perfectly. On this day the water level was ideal, the weather was warm, with blue skies and sun, and we were the only ones on the river, just the way we like it.

Wednesday morning; Chris called me out of the blue with intentions of paddling the Tilton, Green, or Middle Snoqualmie. We opted for the Green, because I haven't run it yet, and Chris hasn't yet this year, also it was the most water the Green has seen all year. We met at the park-and-ride at 10;30 am, coffee in hand with full tanks of gas.

The drive east through the Green river valley was really nice, a serpentine road travels through farmland and low lying marshes. It's a shame that all those nice residences and farms will be destroyed if the green floods this year. The dam that lies upstream is failing, and because of that they cannot control floodwater anymore. Initially the folks at the Army Corps of Engineers gave the GRV a one-in-four chance of flooding this winter, they recently down graded to a one in twenty (still not awesome for them, but further proves my friends point that you should never build in a floodzone regardless of dams).

We put on around noon and began surfing, eddy-hopping, and playing our way into the Green river gorge, a six mile gorge with limited options for egress, all options include a long hike through clearcuts and open expanses until you find the road. The river consists of big holes and wave trains that are all easy to read-and-run, no scouting necessary and almost no wood present. The gorge is pretty spectacular, large trees that tower on either side of the river, making you feel insignificant in your little piece of plastic.

This was the first trip that I have paddled my playboat on in over a year. I had a lot of fun and was reminded how much fun it is to surf on a wave, but I was also reminded how much I don't like paddling that boat. Sore ankles and spending much of the trip fighting the swirly water that boils up from the river bed in an attempt to flip me over and give me an ice cream headache.

I enjoy paddling with Chris because he is perpetually stoked about boating. After catching a good surf, or throwing a huge wave-wheel over a peaking wave the gorge would echo with the sounds of hoots and hollers from the both of us.

The only rapid that made me nervous was a rapid called "Mercury", a shallow, boney rapid with a high potential for beat-downs, and no good line through the nastiness. "Stay center-ish and pick your best option" Chris hollers over his shoulder before we dropped into the fray. I picked my best line but still managed to smack a rock with my butt. Better the butt than the smiley side though.

After several miles of playing down the river I was pooped, sweaty and tired we took a break on a rock in the middle of the river. I had forgot how hard you work when your paddling a cork down the river and trying to catch every wave you can on the way downstream.

The rive ends with a 1/4 mile hike out of the river gorge below the last significant rapid called "paradise ledge", named after the perfect surf hole that is created at the correct flows. After the hike back to the car we packed up our boats, changed into dry clothes, and drove back to the put-in to pick up the other car and made our way back home. A perfect day on the Green. The river rarely disappoints.

In search of Pepe le Pew

For this weekends adventures jP, nick, and Brian traveled down from seattle so we could get some trips on the Olympic Peninsula. The gang came down to my place in Oly on friday night so we could get an early-ish start on saturday morning. We roused around 7:00 am on saturday, made breakfast and were rolling East on 8 by 9:00 am.

That morning we had decided that we were going to try and paddle the lower or middle Metheny River which is located north east of Aberdeen. Earlier in the week the OP had received a hearty storm that had brought high winds and rain to the area, because of the winds there were a significant amount of deadfall and down trees that littered the road. For several miles there were large, healthy trees that had been removed from the road by the state, because of this we were concerned that there was a high probability that we would encounter wood in the river. We were not stoked about this, but also knew that it is to be expected in the OP.

While driving north on 101 we missed our turn and spent some time back tracking and looking for our turn. After some orienteering we found our way to the FS21 bridge, the middle Matheny take-out or the Lower Matheny put-in. After some debate we decided to give the lower a go instead of the middle because we received some good info from my friend Chris whom we ran into along the road while maneuvering around some wood that was in the road (which Chris later removed with a swiss army knife, no joke).

When we arrived at the put-in we decided to break into two groups so we would have an easier time picking our way down stream. Once on the water everything went really well. The rapids were extremely high quality, lots of big holes and large waves that had short recovery periods between big rapids. The rapids were fun and easy to boat scout and the lines became apparent once you entered all of the drops. The four of us picked our way down stream as we leapfrogged from eddy to eddy, switching our turns for the lead and making sure to stop at the bottom of rapids to maintain an eye on the person on the back of the trip. Some of the coolest rapids had big diagonal waves that would typewriter you across the river. After exiting the second of two canyons we stopped on an island in the river to take in the day.

Once back in our boats we continued towards the take-out and our home for the evening. Just before reaching the take-out bridge there was a sweeping right hand bend in the river with a sheer eroding cliff on the river left side. As we floated past we were all kept a keen eye on the cliff because of it's crumbling nature, it felt like sitting below a avalanche slope that was made of clay.

At the take out we socialized with the other group for a bit before they packed up and made their way back towards Oly. Once they left we made it a number one priority to eat, with the criteria that it be warm. After a hearty dinner and a few beers socializing and talking about the day and the tentative plans for tomorrow it was 5:30 pm. Sweet, "we've run out of things to do and it's nowhere near time for bed, maybe chris was right about needing whiskey". The rain was constant but luckily the wind was not. It would have really ruined our night if we had been crushed by a tree.

Throughout the night the cliff that lay upstream from us crumbled in to the river, sending large slabs to crash into the that would cause you to look up from what it was you were doing to investigate. Every twenty minutes or so a rumble and crash would happen, the night was a cacophony of gravity. If it wasn't the rain pattering on your head it was smattering the tarp, our "artificial blue sky".

At one point in the night Nicks dog Avie started growling and barking facing towards the darkness of the woods. Immediately I thought "large cat", all I could imagine was a cougar tearing into camp, grabbing that dog by the skull and dragging it into the woods before we could even react. This all made us uneasy, we stood up from our camp chairs so we could be in the prone position if something were to go down. It's funny how the darkness would bring those childhood fears back.

Sunday morning the group woke up to light rain that would subside occasionally. Breakfast was made and consumed, camp was broken, cars were loaded, and a river was picked. The Wynoochee gorge. So we set out towards the river of choice after lots of orienteering, map work, and dead ends we found our way to the put-in which was on Big Creek. Now to find the put-in.

Three hours later, driving on unmarked roads, asking hunters, orienteering, standing on the roof of the car to get a better view into the valley, and getting frustrated we never found the river. The roads we were driving on were unmarked and the maps we had was clearly not up-to-date. So after much frustration and dealing with uncertainty at one o'clock we pulled the plug on the adventure. We figured that even if we had found the take-out right at one it wouldn't grant us enough time to safely navigate a stretch of river none of us were familiar with before darkfall. The prospect of being stuck on a Olympic Peninsula river after dark was too much to bear. So with our heads hung low were made way back to Olympia.

In 6 years of whitewater kayaking I have never left my house with intentions of kayaking and not been able to get on the water. It was my first "skunking". This sort of river trip helped to illustrate what to expect when taking a trip out to the OP; uncertainty and wood.

First Post

This is my first post on my blog, so it might be a few posts before I figure out my style.

Last weekend Chris, Aaron, Scott, Keenan, Alex, Paul and I paddled on the E. Fork of the Humptulips. What is a Humptulip you might ask? I have no idea, try wikipedia. As we drove to the put-in the rain was coming down with some serious angst and we were all pretty stoked to get on the river with good water. Before we reached the Humptulip put-in we stopped at Donkey creek falls for a little park-and-huck action. Donkey creek falls is a 15-18 ft. waterfall with no rapids above or below it, just a clean fall with a big pool below it. Keenan and I were the only one who wanted to run it, so we suited up and put-in. On the first run I went first, coming in with a little speed I approached the lip and took my stroke and left the rest up to gravity. I ended up landing a bit on my edge but clean. On the second run Keenan went for a wave wheel (a trick where the kayak goes over the lip on the falls and cartwheels on it's way down, see this link for an example) over the lip and ended up landing really flat on the landing, pretty sweet.

After some fun on Donkey creek we loaded back up and drove towards the Humptulips take out, we dropped a car and headed to the top. Par for course on the Olympic Peninsula we had a wet, slippery, and steep walk to the rivers edge, after a few falls, slips and bumps later we were floating in the water and heading downstream.

The run starts out as a slow moving wide river with a few waves and class two boogie water. It's surrounded by huge hemlock and doug fir trees easily over 100 ft. tall. There are some old growth trunks that must have fallen in the river a hundred years ago that have been smoothed by the years and appear more rock like than tree like. As we move downstream the river narrows more and more and eventually we approach our first rapid of consequence, the "Fish Ladder". This rapid has two chutes; the right is a burly looking 8-10 ft sloping ledge that comes to a notch were the water bottle necks and empties into a narrow canyon, the left side is a man made fish ladder that consist of 4 steps that you paddle down. the canyon at the bottom is pretty cool, about 10 feet wide with walls twice as tall. From here the river stays narrow and twists it's way through the canyon interspersed with class III rapids and waves.

After about a mile of this sort of trip we come to an island, the left side has a ledge hole with a narrow tongue on the left shore, and the right side has a tree blocking the channel. We stop a the ledge hole and play for a bit, attempting cartwheels and enders with limited success. We spent some time standing on the island enjoy our private playground in the OP.

After returning to our boats and paddling downstream we rounded a corner to see a beautiful 25-30 ft. water fall that spilled from the river right side of the river. It would be a sweet waterfall to run if it didn't land right onto a bunch of rocks.

We continued downstream, playing on the holes and waves that created the rapids in the mini-gorge. Our first blind III+ type drop was created by a significant landslide that had cascaded off of the river left side. I always get an eerie feeling when I am scrambling over the landfall areas to scout rapids, I get the feeling that the whole thing is going to slide out from under me at any minute, even though the obstruction had been there for a while and had plenty of time to settle. The rapid was ugly and confused looking but the line was easy enough. Everyone ran the rapid ahead of me while I waited for Paul to finish scouting and get back into his boat. We all had clean lines and kept the smiling side up.

Several more class II and III rapids were left until we arrived at the takeout. The bank where the car was located was extremely overgrown and steep but only about 10 feet from the car. Overall it was a really great trip, the rapids on this stretch are pretty easy but the scenery in the Humptulip gorge is spectacular. My favorite part was seeing some of the monster old-growth logs that were deposited in the river along the banks and the steep canyon walls that surrounded us during our trip. The OP is a very special place, it's as beautiful as it is formidable and uninviting. The rain is not driving but constant, a rain that penetrates and prevents any potential for drying out.

On the drive home the car was heavily fogged as we barreled down one of the hundreds of Forest Service roads that weave their way through NFS and DNR land. We stop the previa at several bridges to inspect the rapids that flowed underneath them before we arrived back in civilization. We took the back road home in order to avoid Aberdeen AKA "the most depressing has-been town you've ever had the pleasure of leaving".

I didn't get any pictures this trip but for future posts I'll try and take a couple for posterity. Well friends and family I hope this proved to be an insight to my life out here, and I hope that this proves to be a useful tool for keeping tabs on what I'm doing while we are separate by thousands of miles. Love you all and Until next time...