Robe Redemption

   Paddling to the take out in the fading November light.  Photo by Nicholas Hinds.

    On March 26th 2009 I went kayaking and had the most terrifying accident of my paddling career, and on November 19th 2011 I got my redemption.  Since the accident on the South Fork Stillaguamish river (aka Robe Canyon) in 2009 my confidence has been shaken and my fear of more challenging whitewater has risen.  Here is the story in short; I put on Robe with JP and Rob and was having a fantastic paddling day.  I was getting all the good boofs, having clean lines and didn't need to use my roll, it was the makings of a classic day on the river.  At a rapid called Faceplant JP and I got out of our boats on river left to scout; I didn't like this rapid, but I ran it anyway.  I didn't listen to the voice in my head saying "walk this one, it's kinda a junky rapid anyway".  As a result I ended up flipping in the top third, and as I set up to roll I went over a pourover and landed on a rock - or more likely a pile of rocks - injuring my back, neck, and smashing my helmet.  As a result of this sub-aquatic blunder JP and I had to do one of the most terrifying hikes I have ever taken.  At just about every point in the hike a slip would have resulted in a 100 foot tumble down a 50 degree rocky slope, landing on boulders at rivers edge, and then falling into a class V rapid.  AKA Death.  We got out fine, I got back home to Olympia and spent the next 2 months or so recovering, but it wasn't until June or July that I regained full range of motion in my neck.
   During the last 2 and a half years since this accident I have continued to paddle year round and have not lost my passion of whitewater and kayaking, but I have always had the proverbial monkey on my back.  When I would scout a tough rapid the monkey would be perched up on my shoulders and saying "remember last time Jed, that sucked.  Just portage this rapid".  The monkey wasn't just on the river with me, it was on the phone when I was making paddling plans, "what are y'all paddling today... Oh, you doing That.... no, That is a little above my pay grade I'll go do something else instead, have fun out there".  The monkey was defining my paddling career, it was ruling out all the rivers that would challenge me too much and keeping my wish list of rivers to do in my lifetime much shorter and lacking the diversity than it deserved. The worst part about carrying around the monkey was that all of my paddling partners were nothing but supportive, they would try and remind me that accidents happen and my paddling skill were far better than I was giving myself credit for.  They would invite me on challenging runs and tell me that I would love it, but I would decline simply out of fear. My friends would build me up only to have the monkey whisper in my ear "What do they know".  The monkey and I needed to have a talk, this relationship was one sided and I needed more than I was getting. 
    The monkey and I parted ways on Saturday November 19th, and it was the happiest breakup of my life.  This  time when I paddled Robe I was able to finish the whole thing with the biggest smile I could muster.  It was like the stars aligned, the water level was ideal, I was with a good group that consisted of some of my closest paddling buddies, and the weather was sunny and clear.  The only complaint I could think of would be that it was way cold, so cold that our gear froze at the takeout.  I had the best day of kayaking I've ever had on Saturday, my lines were spot on, and I got that monkey to leave me alone.
    For those who might read this and are in a similar predicament, the best advice I can give is to surround yourself with a good group of supportive friends that you enjoy paddling with.  Having a group of people downstream that you trust is one of the biggest contributing factors to regaining your confidence.  My friends pushed me to get back on the horse, but never so hard that I felt badgered.  Also asking yourself why you paddle is important.  At that point I was in a place where I felt that class V was the natural progression, I knew plenty of paddlers who ran class V who were much less skilled than I was so "what was the worst that could happen"?  I had something to prove as a paddler, not to myself, but to... well... I guess I had something to prove to the river.  In the time since the accident I have really worked on honing my skills, timing, paddle stroke, and muscle memory in order to get back to a place where class V is less disorienting.  Also don't be afraid to ask people you respect for help, they have a 3rd person perspective on how you paddle and aren't hindered by the self perceptions that muddy our self image.
     Kayaking is a mental game as much as a physical game, and I'm glad that I was able to get my mind back in the game after all this time.  See

Northwest Creeking Competition 2011

Saturday and Sunday, April 16-17th, 2011
East Fork Lewis Class III-IV (3400 cfs) and Canyon Creek IV-V (2000 cfs)

This weekend was the 5th annual Northwest Creeking Competition held on the East Fork Lewis and Canyon Creek Lewis, 20 minutes north of Portland.  This race brings people from all over the Northwest, mostly the Portland and Western Washington area and is a very cool event.  It's likely the largest Whitewater race in the Northwest, with sponsors, free shwag, and several kegs of beer all for a $10.00 entry.  Oh yeah you get a t-shirt out of the deal too.  The race course is on two stretches of river, the E. Fork Lewis and Canyon Creek Lewis, the EFL is host to the longboat, tandem, and multiple other classes for racing.  It's a place for everyone to race and participate, from the the Pro-Bro's to the weekend warrior.  The Canyon Creek Lewis is host to the steep creek event for advanced and pro classes only.

So Saturday morning Taryn and I loaded up the big-wheel, revved up the internal combustion engine, and hit the road south towards Sunset falls campground.  We met up with Jon on the highway and caravaned the rest of the way to Sunset falls.  If only it were that simple.  The long story is that we got lost on the way there and spent a good 40 minutes back tracking and trying to find our to the proper road.  Around 9:40 am we finally landed at the park, a little delayed but not late.

Once arrived I registered and and began the waiting process.  When I first saw the falls it became obvious that the river was high (a surplus of water if you will).  It wasn't just a little high, or a wee bit high, it was stomping high.  As Taryn and I wandered around looking for friends and listening to the buzz of people it became apparent that the race was going to be full-on due to the water surplus.  This made me a bit uneasy because I hadn't run this stretch of whitewater in over a year, and the idea of a freight-train of water moving through the gorge with no opportunity to stop after the entrance was making me have to go to the bathroom, and not number 1.

So I geared up and continued waiting for the race meeting to start.  As I waited I stared at the falls and watched boaters fly off it with varying degrees of grace and ... and ... the opposite of grace.  At 10:30 the race meeting started outlining all the usual rules that need to be followed and observed, and bla, bla, bla.  Continue to wait.  While I continued waiting, the "safety crew" came back from their recon mission in the gorge and determined that the water was far too high to have a safe race, so they moved the race course up-stream to a class III-IV stretch of river.  The course would be twice as long as the original course and with more continuous whitewater and finishing below Sunset falls.

Once the course was finalized and everything was a go, we headed upstream to the start line.  I was racing in the longboat class (boats over 9') in my 10'9" corsica S.  At the start line 3 other longboats started directly ahead of me, and 4 other longboats had already started in a previous heat.  After a brief warm up I took my place at the starting line and waited for the 5,4,3,2,1,GO!

Having never seen this upper part of the river before I was a little nervous, but confident in my skills.  I pulled downstream and started pacing myself, unfortunately that pace was too fast for me and about 7 minutes into the race I was getting a little gassed.  What really did me in was when Tao Berman and Darren Albright passed me in their short boats, totally demoralizing.  Granted Tao is a full time professional kayaker and Darren should be a pro kayaker, the last 3 years in a row Tao has gotten first place and Darren has gotten Second.  Needless to say they're fast, real fast.  So after getting blown out of the water by Tao and Darren I kept picking my way downstream.  There were 4 or 5 good class IV rapids all of which all went well with the exception of one.  I came out of a hole and shook off the water and was heading right towards a wall with my bow pointed towards and eddy on river left.  So this forced me to choose between two options. A) Try to turn my boat to the right, hit the wall with my bow, hurt my ankles, get flipped and get pushed against the wall upside-down and the eventually roll up in the fast water, or B) catch the scary recirculating eddy on river left, then ferry out in front of the wall and move down stream.  I chose plan B.

Now that I'm in the eddy, I have to get out, through a serious eddy line, and then avoid the wall.  No problem.  Done this plenty of times.  Done this plenty of times for fun.  Well it wasn't no problem, it took me three tries to get out of that eddy.  The first two times I wasn't able to maintain my angle due to my arms feeling like they were made out of cookie dough.  On the third try I took a few moments rest, analyzed the line and then charged out of the eddy with the conviction of a baptist minister.  I gave a fist pump to the guy who had been filming me during this whole episode and then headed downstream to the finish. I came barreling into the pool above sunset falls, realized how tired I was and caught the eddy.  After seeing footage of that guy during the green race nearly kill himself going over the falls because he was too tired and trying to get a fast time, I figured it would be prudent to catch the eddy.

After a moment of focus, I lined up and charged off the lip. I had a great line (thanks to the moment of rest) and when I landed in the pool I hammed it up, pumping my fist and yelling at the crowd.  The crowd went nuts, but only because they were yelling at me that the finish was a little further downstream, a bit of information I was well aware of but I figured that since I was already having a slow race I might as well live it up.

After finishing I carried my boat up to the parking lot and drank water feverishly, breathed hard, and let Taryn  shower me with compliments.  I was super tired and spent the rest of the day drinking beer, eating food, and socializing.  By-the-way, kayaking isn't always about the paddling.

The rest of the night consisted of party time.  There was a raffle, throwing of free shwag (I got a DVD, which was horrible by the way), awards ceremony, food, beer drinking, fire burning, and general rabble rousing.  Some folks brought dry wood, thank god because there was not a dry piece of timber for miles.  Jon, Nick, Aly, Taryn, Hans, myself and a seemingly hundreds of others that came to and from our campsite hung out and drank, talked (about whitewater) and enjoyed each others company.  An unfortunate part of having the sweet fire in you campsite is that it's where everyone wants to hang out.  Luckily beer assists with sleep so all those strangers hooting and hollering outside my tent became characters in my dreams.  I'm not sure Taryn even knew there were people around considering how hard she slept.

The following morning was beautiful, I woke up glad that I had drank half a liter of water before I fell asleep.  The sun was shining, and the temps were mild, great day for a race.  What?  It's cancelled?  Water too high?  Bummer.  Want to go paddling?

With the race cancelled we decide to go paddling anyway.  As I made breakfast Hans approached me with the proposition of going rafting with him.  "Sounds rad" I responded.  So after a leisurely morning of drinking water, eating food, and re-starting the fire, we broke down camp and headed over to Canyon Creek.  After getting lost (again) for a brief moment we found our way to the take-out.  I geared up and Taryn made plans with Kim to hang out while the boyfriends were on the river.  After blowing up the raft and getting all the players in place we carried Hans' green raft down to the river.

Once we were floating it was very apparent that the river was significantly higher than I'd ever seen it before.  Hans and I got into a rhythm and moved through some fun class III before we came to our first rapid of consequence "Swizzle Sticks".  Here the river gorges up for the first time, and picks up some gradient.  Normally Swizzle Sticks is a tight steeper drop, but today with all that water, it was more of a flume that leads into the fast moving gorge below.  A clean line through this leads into the infamous drop "Terminator".  Terminator at this level had much of the water piling up on the left canyon wall, with a bad hole on the right and a class IV rapid 30 feet or so downstream.  Hans and I scouted and watched some of the kayakers run it with a variety of lines, as well as several rafts from Oregon Rafting Team, or more affectionately known as ORT.

ORT had a variety of lines, several were clean, but several were also filthy dirty.  And I mean that is the sense that they had lines that were not in their best interest.  One raft got cleaned out, of the two passengers one swam the class IV and the other got out on shore above the drop and had to make a scary traverse along a high wall that was above rocks and in some places the river.  Not a preferred line.

After seeing the combination of lines Hans and I decided to portage, the portage was easy, and there is no glory in swimming a rapid.  Once back on the water we jammed down the river running the twin drops of "Prelude" and "Thrasher", on both rapids Hans and I had a good boof and a very clean line.  It's very satisfying to lay down a big boof in a 13 foot long rubber raft.

At "Big Kahuna" Hans and I opted to portage again.  Big Kahuna is a 15 foot waterfall, at this high water level it was looking ugly.  Normally this drop is a gimme in a kayak, but today it was handing out a variety of carnage.  ORT, with their typical grace, ran the falls, again with a variety of carnage, some scary.  Hans and I shot video and set safety for the anyone wishing to give the falls a go.

Of all the drops "Champagne" and "Hammering Spot" was the scariest.  These two drops are separated by a pool that is about 25-30 feet in length with swift moving water.  Immediately below these two drops there is a class III+ rapid that leads into "Toby's", and it's the combination of these drops and their proximity to each other that made this combination of drops - that individually are straight forward - a scary proposition.  Oh and don't for get the difficulty/impossibility of portaging.

Again Hans and I watched kayakers and rafters run the drops.  All the kayakers had great lines wit no real issues, the rafts were not as pretty.  The biggest problem was rafts were running the first drop and then getting pushed to the right into an eddy that made it very difficult to approach Hammering Spot with proper speed and angle.

After filming some rafting carnage, Hans and I loaded up.  We lined up the first drop and plopped off of it into the pool above Hammering Spot.  As we came off of champagne we twisted and upon hitting the pool below we spun counter clockwise and were facing up stream and being pushed to the left side of the drop (the bad spot).  We corrected our angle paddled hard to river right, teed up on the ledge and both pulled on a big boof stroke.  The boof was the saving grace, most of the other rafts plopped off the drop and ended up getting sucked back into the hole, but our run really projected us down stream and away from the ugly stuff behind us.  In my opinion it was the best looking run of the day.  We ran the class III+ plus rapid and then caught the eddy.  Feels good to get that sort of thing behind you.

ORT took some videos and pictures, below is video of us running Champagne and Hammering Spot.



After this it was a leisurely paddle through the lake and back to our cars.  After busting our asses hauling the rafts up a steep and loose gully we arrived back at the car where Taryn was waiting with a PB&J sandwich.  What a sweetheart.  All in all it was a really fun weekend, seeing old friends, making new ones, drinking beer, kayaking (not necessarily in that order), and enjoying the beautiful sunny Sunday weather.

As I get more pictures I'll post them as well.

Rafting with 50 of Your Closest Best Friends

Saturday, March 5th, 2011
White Salmon River, Green Truss section, 3.2 feet
Class IV-V
4.9 miles

This weekend there was a cool gathering of people, organized by my friend Hans.  It was a collection of kayakers and rafters on the Green Truss section of the White Salmon river.  The idea was to have as many rafters on the Truss as would show up, and we believe that it was the largest gathering of rafts on the truss ever (not for sure, but pretty sure).

In all there were 10 rafts on the river that day, and probably 50 people moving downstream as a group.  Most of the rafts had two people in them, but due to an exploded floor Hans and I had to jump into some other peoples rafts to get down the river.  It exploded because we launched the boats by throwing them off of the bridge that is easily 45-50 feet off the river bed. So, I ended up rafting with two others, they were both guides down in California and we had a great time on the rio.  Initially I was nervous about rafting with two people I had never met before, but we quickly got on the same page and had a great run.

The idea was that we would race from the put-in to the eddy right above Big Brother, a 28 foot waterfall, and from below Big Brother to he take out we would have a leisurely trip down class IV and V whitewater.

The first several rapids were class IV in nature and fun, we got bounced around a bit but were always in control.  The only rapid we were worried about on the upper stretch was Bob's Hole, a steep drop (about 6-7 feet) that has a very sticky hole at the bottom.  Unfortunately we had to eddy out right above the drop to help out Fish and Franz (they needed our pump) and this set us up with a bad angle for dropping Bob's.  Lucky for us we were all dialed in and had a perfect line that scooted us away from the hole.

We came into the finish line in good time, exchanged paddle high fives and got ready to watch some excitement at Big Brother. Several very talented kayakers ran BB and had great lines, a few people even ran it for the very first time.  Five rafts even ran the Big One.  The very first raft had the scariest line of them all.  As they went over the brink one the paddlers either missed their grab or didn't try and grab onto anything and tumbled head first out of the boat into the water at the base of the falls.  Both paddlers ended up getting stuck in the cave on river right for awhile with the raft on top of them.  After some help from people set up near the cave they were able to get themselves out of the water and back into the boat.

I opted not to run BB but Matt and Orion wanted to fire it off.  They didn't have as bad of a line but still ended up crashing and burning at the base of the falls.  It was cool to watch people run it but, that is where the coolness ends, I think running it would have been nothing but pain.

Below BB is Little Brother, a 15 foot waterfall, pretty straightforward in a kayak.  In a raft it's handed out many beatdowns, and Orion and Matt were on the receiving end of one of those beatdowns.  Video footage HERE.

From here on down there are four more significant drops, Double Drop, Upper Zig Zag, Lower Zig Zag, and BZ falls.  Double drop was really fun, in total you lose about 18-20 feet of elevation.  The first drop is a green tongue that spills down into a a chaotic pool that plunges over a second drop into a significant hole.  At the top of the drop you drift until the last moment, take a stroke, then hold on until it's all over.  As we impacted the first drop Orion sort of landed on me, but nothing bad.  We came out of the bottom hole full of water, upright, with everyone in the raft, celebration!

The next two rapids upper and lower zig zag went about as perfectly as they could have.  The upper is a bunch of rowdy whitewater, lots of diagonal waves and fast moving water.  As we rallied down the drop we had to throw in the occasional high side, but it all went really well.  At Lower Zig Zag there is a significant ledge at the entrance, a short pool, then you need to paddle hard to the left shore and avoid the fan rock that will buck you around if you hit it.  We boofed through the first hole, and cruised down along the left wall.  Another stylish line.

Below this drop is fun class IV until you come to BZ falls, a very serious 15 footer with a powerful hydraulic at the base of it.  All the rafts except for one portaged this drop, and the one who did run it had carnage.  To portage we tied five rafts together and let them run the falls like a big happy family.  Unfortunately due to some miscommunication there was no one ready to grab the group of rafts and they took off downstream unmanned.  A group of people caught up to them before they got too far, but if they had gotten past top drop they would have gone all the way to Husum falls.

After we got off the water, Hans, Jeremy, and a handfull of other folks headed back to the put-in to retrieve Hans' boat from the riverbed.  Hans and I clambered down and hooked the boat up to a rope and the rest of the crew hauled it back up the steep cliff face to the cars.

All-in-all it was a very memorable day on the river, lots of carnage, lots of laughs, and a bunch of new friends.

Driving around with a friend or the day we tried to go kayaking twice

This Saturday was a beautiful day, the temperature was mild, the sun was out, and the north Fork Mineral Creek looked like it was going to be a good level.  Unfortunately for Jon and I would never make it to the NF Mineral, on top of that we would never make it to the Little Nisqually either.  It was a day of frustration, confusion, and above all no kayaking.


I've wanted to run the NF mineral for quite some time and the access to this run will make it very difficult to run in the near future.  The creek runs through land owned by the West Fork Timber Company, and because of people using the land improperly they have put gates on all the roads leading into the land.  Quite simply if people wouldn't litter and build meth production facilities on the property Jon and I would have added another Personal First Descent to our list, but because of these issues Jon and I ended up driving around for close to an hour attempting to find alternate ways to get behind the gate.  We talked to several locals and they were kind enough to inform us as to why the land had been shut down to the public. 

Jon and I left the local corner store feeling dejected and mad at society and corporate land owners for limiting access to land.

After a little bit of cursing we opted to try another run in the area, we thought that it would be a bit low, but worth a try considering we'd already put so much effort in coming out there.  So we drove to Alder Lake and dropped a car at the boat ramp and made our way towards the put in for the Little Nisqually river.  About 9 miles from our destination we ran into another gate.  Needless to say Jon and I were collectively mad enough to power a profanity run generator.  Initially we thought that it was closed for the same reason that the Mineral Creek gates existed but found out from some local dirt bikers that it was because of a washout that was just up the road from the gate.  This made us feel a little better, but not that much better.

From here we moped back to the lake and changed out of our gear and drank a beer by the lake. It was a beautiful day and it seemed a shame to let it go to waste.  Jon has recently bought a new house so I followed him back to the new property to check it out.

Jelousy doesn't really properly describe how I felt about his new place.  It has a sweet shop/garage/barn, nice sized house, pond with a few acres of property, fruit trees, places for extensive gardens, and is close to Gig Harbor.  I spent the rest of the weekend hanging out at the house, helping jon clear some alder trees that were threatening a levy, and watched football. 

It ended up being a good weekend in the end, but I'm still a little butt-hurt about gates and closures.  I'm gonna have to get a hold of the West Fork Timber company and see if we can come to an agreement.

Some days your glad that you put on your big boy pants

Monday, January 17th, 2011
Lower Big Quilcene, 800 cfs
Class IV-V
3.5 miles

"I got some good news and some bad news" I yelled from 30 feet up the hillside, "the good news is we can get down to the river, the bad news is there is a trail".  Jon, Adrian, and I had been hiking down the creek bed for the past 20 or so minutes, dragging, carrying, and tossing our boats around in an effort to gain access to the Big Quilcene river.  By this point we had nearly reached the river, in fact we could see the Big Q from where we stood, but a waterfall, big logjam, and a walled in gorge stand between us and the put-in.  So in an effort to find a better access to the river I had hiked up to the top of the ridge and hiked down to where we would be able to get into our boats.  After a tough scramble up the steep sliding slope I topped out and realized we were standing 30 feet below a well maintained trail.  From here I threw a rope down to the guys, hauled up their boats and started the easy walk down to the rivers edge.

The Big Q has been on my list for quite awhile for two reasons, 1) it's a class IV+ on the Olympic Penninsula, 2) it's close to home, and 3) it's a run I haven't done before.  Jon and Adrian are practically neighbors so we all agreed that it sounded like fun.

Due to the huge flood event all the rivers were really big, including the Big Q but it wasn't above the recommended flow just on the high end of things.  But the river level was falling so that made us all feel like it wasn't unreasonable to go kayaking.

Once at the rivers edge we drank some water, took a breather, then saddled up to prepare for the bigger rapids on the run.  The first mile of the trip was fast moving class III rapids, there weren't many eddy options, and the eddies that did exist were on the inside of bends of the river.  We picked our way downstream, catching as many eddies as we could in order to slow the pace down and prevent ourselves from running rapids blind.

After about a mile or so we came to the first horizon line and the beginning of steep cliff walls.  We all eddied out on the right and went into scouting mode.  From river level we could scout the first move but couldn't see very far down stream, maybe 60-70 feet or so before the canyon wall obscured the rest of the river.  The entrance to the rapid was on the scary side, the left slot was a no go, all the water slammed into a big rock that forced the water to the left into an undercut rock.  The right side wasn't looking much better, it had a reasonable line with unreasonable consequences, the slot had a tongue that lead into a rock that parted the current, half going left into the main current and downstream, the other half going right into a cave filled with wood.  On top of all that, there was a piece of subsurface wood crossing the channel, it wasn't going to be a big issue, but it could change everything.

After scouting at river level we took a slog up to the canyon rim to see what the river looked like down stream.  From the rim as far as we could see the river was clean, no wood, no class VI rapids, nothing that looked unreasonable to run.  It was going to be fast, pushy, and a bit of a scramble, but it would all go, the only issue now was that first move in the rapid.  Not even the first rapid, but the first move.

Jon moved efficiently back to his boat, but Adrian and I hovered on the rim looking down into the cave and the wood, and all that water.  "I don't like the looks of that thing" I said to Adrian, we seemed to agree.  Back down at river level I took another long hard look at the entrance, Jon was ready to run it, Adrian was on the fence, and I wasn't convinced that it was worth running.  We couldn't set safety for the cave, once someone made the move into the main flow they were on their own, and if the last paddler got locked into the cave they were on their own for awhile until the rest of the group managed to run back up stream, and it turns out the only way to get out of the river is over 150 yards downstream.  We all stood around trying to come to a consensus about what would be the best thing to do, I didn't want to pull the trigger on the rest of the group but I just wasn't comfortable running a rapid that I couldn't set safety for.  After looking at a couple of options for setting cave safety I eventually told the group that I wasn't comfortable running it and was going to portage, due to the continuous nature of the river we all opted to portage the drop in order to stay together.

From here I scrambled up the steep slope with a rope and hauled the boats up to the rim.  This process was a little complicated mostly due to the fact that every time I tried to throw the rope down the hill it would get hung up on a tree or bush or other obstruction requiring that I re-coil and re-throw the rope, adding frustration and exhaustion to the trip.  After getting all the boats up the hill the boys joined me on the canyon rim.

"I'm sorry guys I just didn't like the looks of that thing" I said.
"Jed, it was the right thing to do, don't worry about it" Adrian replied.
The thing that holds me back the most as a boater is that little voice in my head that says "ehh, I don't really like the way that looks", but I guess that there are some things that we can't change about ourselves, but maybe that's for the best.

We hiked our boats down to the rivers edge again, Adrian opted to seal launch from a flat ledge on river right so he could run a few more drops in the river.  Jon and I walked down stream a bit further.  Once I got my boat to where Jon's was I realized that Jon had gone further down stream to scout another horizon line.  Adrian dropped in upstream and I pointed to the right in an attempt to signal the eddy on the right in hopes that he would catch the eddy and not get swept over the horizon line.  He caught the eddy fine, a few moments later Jon came back with news, "it's a big rapid but it looks like it's good to go, you go down the left the whole way and there is a big pool at the bottom".

From our eddy up stream we jammed down to the river right eddy and I clambered out to take a look at the big boy.  "Crap" I thought, "that's a big mean looking bastard".  The line was like Jon said, down the left over a couple of ledges with powerful looking reactionaries coming off the left wall, then a powerful looking seam that pushed into a massive reactionary bouncing off of the right wall.  This reactionary was a big boy, basically the whole river was bouncing off a slab of basalt on river right.

I peered through the trees to try and make an assessment about how I felt about this rapid.  As I did this Adrian dropped in to probe this beast.  Initially he got hung up in some twigs against the bank, he weaved his paddle through the spiderweb of branches, regained control of one of the most important pieces of gear, and dropped down the cascading series of ledges. He screamed down the seam and plugged into the massive reactionary which flipped him with the quickness, he rolled up in the pool and gave us the "all clear signal". Jon was ready now, he peeled out into the current and had a similar line minus the tree tango, he was also flipped over by the prodigious reactionary wave.

Now I was standing atop the rapid by myself.  "Crap. That's a big rapid".  I looked at the drop for a bit more, trying to digest everything that it had to offer me.  There was a moment that I thought "I should walk this", but I suppressed that thought because I knew I was fully capable of living in harmony with this mass of water, boulders and gravity.  This is why it's fun, this is why we're here, because it's a little scary, but that sensation you feel at the bottom is unmatched.  The Dynamic nature of the river is what draws us back, so with that said, I took several calming deep breaths and stepped into my boat, snapped on the skirt and tried to be in harmony with all the forces out of my control.

I moved the bow of the boat into the current and made my move towards the thread of current that I was fixated on, I dropped over the first ledge and the current pushed my bow right where it needed to be.  I leaned against the wall of water on my left that threatened to flip me over and took a few strokes towards the seam.  Once on the seam I rocketed towards the big reactionary wave, it flipped me over with the influence of an authoritarian dictator. I set up to roll and not a moment later I hit the back of my head and shoulder blade on a rock. "Crap". I rolled up to the voice of Jon yelling "your all good bro, your all good".

"Ow, crap, ow, crap, this hurts a little" I was fine but definitely a little shook up from hitting my head, it's still a sensitive subject after my last head impacting experience.  I paddled into the eddy and Adrian was already on shore scouting around the bend in the river. Downstream looked like it was going be nothing but fun class IV whitewater as far as the eye could see. Looks good to go, we all mounted up and I peeled out into the current after taking a few moment to warm back up in the pool.  Once we were back in the current is was go-go-go for the next mile or so. It's all a big blur except for three distinct features, the first being a big pyramid rock that I boofed real hard on the left side, the second being a hole I surfed in just downstream of the sweet boof, and the third being a scary looking pourover with some weird reactionary coming off the left side of it.

The hole I surf could have been a real bummer.  I came off the boof and it was pushing me left towards a broken ledge on river left.  There wasn't enough time to try and completely avoid it so I tried to get a good few strokes off of it, which I did, but it wasn't enough.  The hole slammed my stern and pointed my bow straight in the air, I tried throwing the bow down but it wasn't quite in time. I flipped over and immediately felt the hole pull me into it, I set up for my roll and grabbed the green water.  I rolled up, but unfortunately still in the hole, the horseshoe shaped hole was pulling on my boat from three sides, I was pretty well locked in.  I side surfed for a bit, in control, but not going anywhere. After a few moments of this I looked upstream to see Jon bearing down on me.  "Crap".  Jon managed to move to the left enough that he boofed onto the bow of my boat instead of onto my face.  This was a stroke of luck because it pushed me around in the hole enough that now I was facing upstream and had a chance to back paddle out of the hole.  As I was doing this Adrian also got pushed by the river to the left and also boofed onto the bow of my boat further assisting my exit from the hole, but nearly taking my reservation in the hole in the process.

After this experience I was a little shaken but by now we were past the steepest part of the run.  The rest of the run was class three.  We boogied our way downstream moving through the Olympic Peninsula and soaking the special place that we had happened upon.

The excitement wasn't over yet though, we had two log portages that we had to deal with, both of which I opted to walk around and Jon and Adrian opted to wiggle under.  The first one went fine, but in the process of going under the second one Jon got tangled up and flipped over and his paddle flushed downstream without him.  Adrian and I were out of our boats but couldn't get to it in time and Jon had to hand paddle his way after it.  A short ways later Adrian and I caught up with him near the fish hatchery weir.  I'm always weary of man made obstructions, particularly at higher flows.  Adrian scouted and it was fine, it had a flushing tongue left of center.  From here it was just a matter of finding the take-out.

Downstream there is an "electrified fish weir" that we didn't want to run, because quite simply electricity and water do not mix.  We took out just upstream of the second weir where Katie was waiting for us.  After a tough takeout we were finally at the car, the run wasn't long on length, but it took us awhile to get to where we wanted to go.  So far this is one of the better trips I've taken in the last few months, it had everything, excitement, quality rapids, things that scared me, a exploratory feel to it, scouting, hauling boats up cliffs, and moments that reminded you why whitewater is so fun.  The river is a dynamic medium, and it's fun to dance with it from time to time.

Getting a friend back on the river

Saturday, January 15th, 2011
East Fork Humptulips, 6000 cfs
Class III (IV)
5.5 Miles

Six months ago my friend Nick dislocated his shoulder on the Ohanepecosh river and has not been on the river since.  So when he called me in the days leading up to MLK weekend with intentions of getting back on the river I got excited about getting him back on the rio.  He wanted to run something in the class III range so he wouldn't stress his brand new shoulder, so we decided that we would run the E Frk. Humptulips because it is quality class III and it's runnable at a variety of levels, plus it's a Washington classic in my opinion.  Fun rapids packaged with neat geology and a even neater gorge makes for classic whitewater.

Starting on Thursday a huge warm mass of air came and slammed into the Pacific Northwest, this warm air mass brought with it lots of rain and raised the freezing level to over 6,000 feet in many places.  This system caused many thing, the main one being region-wide flooding, all the river systems in the area were at bankfull or floodstage by Friday night.  On Friday I checked the river levels and the Humptulips was at 11,000 cfs and still rising.  I called Nick with the bad news that it might not be a good idea to test run his new shoulder at such a high level, he was bummed out but being the reasonable guy that he is, he understood.  So we made plans to paddle together later in the weekend when the water came down a bit, it broke my heart because he was so excited about getting on the river again, but it was the sensible thing to do.

Island Rapid

Saturday morning I woke up and checked river levels around 7:30 am, and discovered that the rain had broken during the night and the Humptulips had come down to a reasonable 6000 cfs and falling.  I called Nick up and he answered, "please whisper sweet nothings about rivers in my ear".  I explained the situation, and we decided to go kayaking.

I met him out in Montesano and we caravaned through Aberdeen, where we saw a very scared deer galloping down main street.  I felt like I was on an episode of "Northern Exposure".  After some meandering we arrived at the take-out, dropped Nick's car and drove up to the put-in.  The put-in requires a short but steep hike in to get down to the rivers edge, I was carrying my Canoe so it was a little unwieldy, I nearly fell several times and Nick fell once.

At the put-in the river was big and brown but a manageable looking flow.  After a stretching routine we saddled up and peeled out into the current.  Nick deftly caught an eddy like he hadn't missed a day on the river in the last six months.  We made our way downstream, surfing waves, catching eddies and soaking in the scenery.  The rain came down lightly and dripped off of our helmets and pitter-pattered on our boats as we made our way towards the first significant rapid.

The fish ladder is a straight forward man-made obstruction, it's like running a whitewater staircase down the left shore.  Nick ran it but I didn't feel comfortable running it in the open boat, it probably would have been fine but I figured it wouldn't hurt to walk it.  Once back at the rivers edge I mounted up and started to paddle into the current that was pushing against a headwall. Because of my inexperience in the canoe I didn't lean towards the wall like I was supposed to, but basically bailed out up stream.  Awesome, now I'm swimming. We pulled the boat into a calm and deep eddy on river right and tried to figure out the best thing to do.  Thankfully I have 5 years of Sea kayaking experience, we basically did what a sea kayaker would do and loaded back into the boat  without dragging it to shore, the vertical walls made it tough to get footing and stand so I could get back in.  So Nick held the boat still while I clambered back into the floating craft, after mounting up I paddled the partly full boat to another calmer eddy and bailed the excess water out.  "Well that was exciting" I thought.

Taking a quiet moment

The rest of the gorges were really pretty, vertical walls, large second growth trees blanketed in moss, cool geological formations, and fun rapids.  We played our way down stream making best use of the time we had out there.  The Goforth creek waterfall was a beautiful crystal clear column of water plunging into the river.  It's such a shame that there are rocks in the landing zone otherwise it would be a rad 20 foot water fall, perhaps at the high waterlevels the pool would be high enough that someone could run it.

Just downstream was the class IV landslide rapid, at the higher level it was a pretty sweet looking rapid with two viable lines.  Nick wanting to be easy on his brand new shoulder opted to portage the meat of the drop, and because I was not super comfortable in the Canoe I opted to portage as well, but because of the super high water there was no where for me to get back in my boat.  So Nick and I hatched the plan to do a "throw and go", basically toss the boat into the current then jump into the pool and swim after it.  It worked perfectly, the boat drifted out in front of me, I did a nice belly flop and swam after it and swam the boat into the first eddy. Text book.

Once back in the boat we kept making our way down stream towards the car.  The river lazily wound through the canyon, pouring over rocks and squeezing between steep canyon walls creating funny boils and surges in the compressed ribbon of water.

At the take out we exchanged high fives, and loaded up the boats to make our way back to our respective homes.  It's always great getting on the river, but it felt even better helping out a good friend to get back in the saddle and test out his new equipment.  Six months is a long time to not be able to do something that brings joy to your life, I'm glad that I could have been there for him.  The smile that the river brings is hard to recreate.

Blessings In Disguise

Saturday, January 8th, 2011
Baker Creek, 200 cfs.
Class III-IV
2 Miles

This Saturday was a beautiful sunny, yet cold day in the Olympia Washington area.  What better activity than to go kayaking. Granted kayaking can be done in any weather condition, but I digress.  Jon and I wanted to try a new river on the Olympic Peninsula and decided to run a section of the Middle Fork of the Satsop, a class III+ - IV section located on the South East corner of the peninsula.

We met in Shelton WA and from there took the short drive to the takeout for the Satsop.  We became intrigued by a gorge below where we intended on taking out which we later discovered was a section of class IV-V whitewater called "Fools Canyon".  We eventually decided that we couldn't find a reasonable takeout for this gorge section and instead parked a car at the confluence of Baker creek and the MF Satsop.

From here we figured that it would be a relatively short drive to the put-in.  I have never been so wrong.  Not only was it not a short drive, we would never reach the put-in for our intended river.  This was due to a couple of things, 1) we didn't have a map that adequately showed the details of the area we were navigating, because of this I had failed to notice the night before that a road I had intended on using never crossed the river. 2) the maps we did have were slightly outdated so many of the roads on our maps were no longer roads in reality. And 3) the road that would have potentially took us to where we wanted to go had a gate on it put there by a private landowner.

So while searching for the elusive put-in we spent a good hour driving around crossing potential options off the list.  By now we were feeling a bit dejected, attempting to go kayaking and not being able to actually kayak is a frustrating affair.  So we drove back to where we had dropped Jon's car and scratched our heads for a moment. Then it hit me, "let's just do Baker creek".  This small tributary shared a takeout with the MF Satsop and there was a road that paralleled the creek for some distance.  So we loaded up again and drove as far upstream as the road would allow.  We eventually arrived at a fork in the road that brought us down to the rivers edge and a dead end.

The Put-in rapid

We parked the car and began the ritual of getting geared up, helmet, PFD, spray skirt, etc.  Once we were nearly ready a man began walking down a side path towards us, saw us, turned around like he was spooked, realized we had already seen him, and then walked out into the clearing.  I gave him a friendly smile, a wave, and a "howdy there", which was immediately responded with a phrase in Spanish that I did not understand.  By now it had occurred to me what his story was, he was a brush picker.  He was dressed in rubber boots, rubber overalls and equipped with a hooked knife and a bundle of ferns.  Brush picking is a typical Migrant/illegal worker employ, they are dropped off in the woods and they gather ferns, grasses, and other non-flower related greenage to use in floral arraignments, and this part of the peninsula is rife with this type or work. I imagine that he was spooked by seeing somebody else all the way out there, as well as any legal implications that went along with what he was doing there.  Luckily Jon and I couldn't care less, and at that moment I really wished I spoke Spanish so I could have better communicated with him.  Maybe that's a new years resolution.

After our inter-cultural experience we shouldered our boats and began what would be a very easy 15 minute hike to where we decided to enter the river.  At the our chosen Put-in there were several things of note, the first being the massive drainage culvert that must have washed out of a side creek that was deposited on the River Left side, and the second being a fun looking rapid with some scary looking wood.

Just on the other side of this wood pile is the first rapid that I ran.

After a brief scout, Jon decided to run it, I decided to put-in just below it.  I'm not a big fan of making sketchy moves in the first rapid of the trip, as it goes we ended up tangling with more scary wood down stream which didn't spook me nearly as much.  About 30 seconds into our paddling experience Jon pinned in a rock jumble, "awesome" I thought. If this is how the rest of our run goes this creek is going to be a bust.

After he became unpinned, I clambered into my boat and ran the first rapid of the day, a double ledge that was run down the right side.  The next 1/4 to 1/2 mile was busy and fun, it also felt crowded despite our small group.  The run has very little eddies, is moving fairly deftly down stream and is full of places that could pin you and wood lurking on the edges.  We eddy hopped and leapfrogged downstream, catching an eddy then yelling directions to each other.  The rapids were fun and left you wanting more.

Jon in the second half of the trip

During the trip we came across two mandatory wood portages that were simple and fast, there was one spot that had the water been much higher would have posed a serious issue.  About halfway through the trip the gradient flattened out and the rapids became less exciting.  We managed to surf a fun wave, and also took the time to stop for a moment to take a picture and take in the special place we had discovered by accident.

A short while later we arrived at the confluence and our take-out.  All-in-all the run wasn't a Washington Classic, but it sure beat the hell out of driving home with nothing to show for it.  Had we not been able to find the MF Satsop put-in it's unlikely that we would have ever paddled down Baker Creek, so we chalked it up as a day well spent.

Typical scenery

After we drove back to the top to retrieve the car, we took a hike back to the put-in to see if there was any rapids up stream that we had missed out on, luckily we hadn't, all the steepest drops were in the first half of our trip.

To finish our day we drove back towards Shelton to stop at the local bar and grab a beer.  This also turned into a blessing, we had forgotten that the Seahawks were playing that day, and when we walked in every Yokel was hooting and hollering about a Seahawks first-down.  The bar was very interesting, it was much like every rural bar I've been too; wood paneling from 1976, a bunch of crappy tables that look like they were bought from the local Middle School when it upgraded its equipment, a pool table that looks like it has been used as a coaster to keep from getting rings on the floor, four tiny TV's and one giant one that everybody is watching the game on.  On top of the general ambiance of the bar, the locals added additional color yelling things like "kill him" and "what the fuck is that fuckin' assholes problem", all responded to with rollicking laughter.  Every few minutes or so someone would wander outside to smoke a cigarette and then gather around the window to watch the action, if Norman Rockwell had been painting during the 21st century that scene would have been on the cover of The Saturday Evening Post

It has been quite a long time since I watched a sporting event in the company of anyone other that friends and family and had forgot how much fun it is to yell, cheer and slam your hands on the table along with a mob of others.  As the Seahawks charged up the field the clamor rose to a crescendo, only to be snuffed out as soon as the Saints made a critical play or the Seahawks failed to make a first-down.  Watching these people was like riding an emotional roller coaster.  The peak of excitement came when Marshawn Lynch embarrassed the Saints defense by breaking tackles like a bull in a china shop, and running 67 yards to help beat the reigning Superbowl champions and bring a team with a losing record further into the playoffs.  The whole room exploded, people were hugging, slapping high fives, and getting more excited than I thought Seattle sports fans ever could.

Now that was a day well spent.