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.

Another Flood Stage Start to the Winter Season

Sunday, October 24th 2010
Hamma Hamma River, Bankfull/Flood Stage
Class III-IV
5 Miles

All week I had been tracking a large low pressure system that was coming out of the mid pacific, and it had promises of heavy rains.  NOAA forcasted it to hit Friday night or Saturday morning, I had been hoping that it would hit hard Friday so we could go kayaking on Saturday, but even though it came in time the river levels didn't budge, mostly due to the dry land soaking up all the water.  So on Saturday I did school work and prayed for hard rain so we could have an adventure on Sunday.  Sunday came and a lot of rivers still hadn't budged, but the East side of the Olympic Peninsula got pummeled.  So Chris, Jared and I followed the rain.

We had planned to  run Jefferson Creek, but there was a monstrous volume of water pumping down the river valley so we opted for something a little more manageable, a five mile section of river on the Hamma Hamma. Chris said that he had paddled this stretch of river at similar flows so he was confident that it would be fine.  The only concern was the Class IV rapid that he called "U-turn", a short class IV canyon that has a large blind  right hand bend in it.  He initially had concerns that we wouldn't be able to scout it which made me nervous, but once we got there we discovered that there was plenty of opportunity to catch an eddy and get out of our boats.

At the put in the river was cranking, it was easily bankfull and bordering on a food stage.  We all saddled up and peeled out into the swift and serious current.  I caught the first eddy that I saw, and Chris slammed in right behind me and made a comment on how fast the current was moving.  He tried to surf a fast wave that was right next to our eddy, but instead of dropping into the wave, the current grabbed his boat and ushered him down stream with intent.  After witnessing Chris' violent downstream movement I opted to stay away from the wave, too early in the trip to be upside down.

The rapids were all pretty benign, little waves and holes, the occasional large boulder, and a few Class III+ rapids, it definitely had the feel of a flood stage river, no eddies, and some floating wood.  The whole trip I was living in apprehension of the gorge, the prospect of wood jammed up between two cliff walls was giving me a Whitewater Laxative.  Chris had expounded about it's unscoutable nature, and that all the other times he'd run this stretch he had been washed into it unknowingly, and none of this was making me feel any better about the situation.  It wasn't until after the trip that I found out that in all his previous experiences he was a novice and failed to recognize the gorge coming, would have been nice to know before we put on the river, but either way.

We came to a large left hand bend that pointed right towards the gorge, we eddied out and proceeded to have a very pleasant scout of the gorge.  The gorge is tight but there are plenty of ways to get close to the rivers edge, with several ledges and precipices that make it possible to plan out all your moves.  The gorge rapid is actually pretty easy, point right and charge right, stay away from the walls and big crashing diagonals, big pool at the bottom.  While scouting we were clambering over pretty cool terrain, blankets of moss, big bedrock ledges, and what appeared to be some sort of animal path.

After scouting, all the apprehension that Chris had been scaring into me was gone, the line was easy, and there was no wood to tangle with.  The only bummer was that from top to bottom it would only take about 20-30 seconds to complete.  The gorge was a quarter the width of the rest of the river and must have been moving 25 miles an hour.

I made sure to arrive back at my boat first so I could be the first in the water and the first moving downstream, it's fun to be paddling downstream with nothing but the gorge walls and the moving water in front of you. Also if Chris or Jared got tangled up in a hole or eddy I wanted to be sure that I wasn't behind them, for fear of slamming into one of their faces with the conical nose of my boat.

I peeled out of the eddy and cruised past the first hole, over the rooster tail, and leaned hard against the large diagonal wave that pushed me right and towards the exit of the canyon.  Once I had made the move against the diagonal, I was home free all I needed to do was boogie right down the middle.  There was a 10 foot wide pinch right at the exit of the canyon and the water accelerated and shot me out of the canyon.  I looked up stream and didn't see anyone, either I was going way faster than I thought I was, or something goofy happened up stream, luckily it was the former because not a few seconds later Jared comes flying around the corner in a tail stand.  We all collected in the larger undulating eddy and had a good hoot about our experience, too bad it would be such a pain to walk back up and have another go at it.

Before the take out there was one final rapid, a large hole with a small tongue on the left corner of it, the three of us had varied levels of success with it, I ended up tangling with a large reactionary wave coming off the left wall, Jared had another nice tail stand, and Chris nearly did the same thing as I.

We reached the takeout and decided to take a hike down stream a bit and marvel at the unrunnable water fall that marks the beginning of the other unrunnable section of the Hamma Hamma.  At flood it was an impressive geological and hydrological feature.  It was a two tiered falls, a 25 into a pool and then into a 20 into an extremely aerated pool, at lower water apparently there is no pool between the two falls only a crack in the bedrock where the water flows, but at flood stage it was a high volume beast.  Also the water flowed underneath a large undercut section of the wall, and on top of all that there was a massive log chocked between the two walls in the middle of the two drops, and with all the water slamming into it, the tree was flexing and bucking with some violence.

It was another Floodstage start to the winter kayaking season, and there will be many more to come I'm sure. Until next time.

A Memorable Memorial Day

Memorial Day Weekend 2010

For this Memorial day, some friends and I did a tour of the central and eastern slope of the cascade range to find some whitewater. I met Jon Shelby and Texas Dave at the eastgate park and ride to car pool up to Fall In The Wall where we planned to meet Chipper and jP to run some laps on a Northwestern classic. When we checked the gauge the water was definitely high, we scouted all the drops and they looked good to go, until I saw the Fearsome Foursome. Boy were they fearsome looking, four successive ten foot drops with short fast moving pools between each drop. It would have been mine and the majority of the groups first time down, and the first timers decided that we didn't want to scare ourselves on our first run. So we made a consensus and decided to go run the Middle Fork Snoqualmie river, a straightforward class III-IV run.

Before we went to the river though we felt that a stop at the local BBQ place was in order, a consolation prize if you will. We found our way to the put-in and discovered that the river was coffee and cream brown and moving downhill fast. Since we were all in creek boats this run wasn't going to be the best because of our inability to surf, but because of the high water it ended up being a fun run.

The run is wide open and every rapid has multiple lines, so we all did our best to turn the run into a good work-out and work on some fundamental skills.

As we approached "house rocks" rapid - a long series of large boulders that create large holes and waves - jP said to me "down here in the middle there is a big hole that gets pretty serious, go around it or go through it, you'll be fine". Famous last words. As I boogied down I saw the large hole, and as I passed it I saw jP dropping into it backwards. Intentionally or by accident? I won't know until I ask, but either way jP started a long side surfing session. Chip, Jon and I eddied out just down stream of the hole and watched jP try and find his way out. All I could see of him was his paddle bracing on top of the foam pile, bobbing up and down and occasionally shooting off to one side of the hole only to be tractor beamed back to the middle of the hole. This went on for what felt like the better part of a minute, finally he was able to get off a corner and flip over which grabbed at some water flushing down stream. He rolled up red faced with a look of "wow didn't expect that to happen". We all hooted and hollered and banged our paddles on our boats in celebration.

Down stream Jon decided that he didn't want to be out done by jP, so he either intetionally or unintentionally dropped into a big hole on river left to catch a surf. As I floated by thinking "again?" I watched Jon try and bury the bow in the green water to pop out. Today was definitely turning into a rodeo day.

We played our way do to the take out and our cars. This section of whitewater was fun, but I probably won't be back in the near future.

We saddled back up in the cars and headed back to the park and ride. From there Jon and I drove to his house where I would crash for the night. At the house Jon, Katie and I bought some burgers, braughts, beers and barbecued. We spent the night making conversation and making fun of the dog, and oh yeah, talked about kayaking.

In the morning I geared up and headed out to pick up jP at his place to go run the China Gorge of the Cle Elum river. Unfortunately Jon couldn't join us because he had prior engagements, but there is always next time. I picked up jP at 9 am and by 9:15 we were on the road heading to meet James, Oliver, Kris, and Brian. I was really excited because this was a section of river I had wanted to run and also the group was some of my favorite people to paddle and spend time with, the weekend promised to be a winner.

We met James at his campsite along the Cle Elum river and started getting excited about the prospect of the days activities. The weather wasn't great - over cast and cool - but it wasn't raining so I couldn't really complain. Once Brian and Kris caught up with the group we all made way to the take out to change and load up in cars to go to the put-in. We discovered the river to be on the low side, but still runnable and would be fun.

At the put-in we discovered that Scott and Keenan were there scouting the first class V triple drop, with their friend Jeff. Most of us opted out of running the first falls because it was literally the first rapid, if we had been given the opportunity to warm up a bit it might have been a different story, but none of us liked the prospect of swimming in the first rapid so we put in below the first two drops and ran the third instead.

Keenan and James on the other hand were ready to run it, james wanted to because he is badass, and Keenan because he is 17 and doesn't know any better, I think the term is young, dumb and full of ... something. Anyway, they both had clean lines in the first two drops, but in the third I thought Keenan was going to drop into the nasty terminal eddy on river right, but he ended up running clean.

Half way down the run I was floating downstream and as I came through a pool I see our friend Jared standing on the shore. Apparently he had tried to meet us at the put-in but missed so he went down stream in an attempt to catch us on our way down. I told him to get changed quick and that we would wait for a bit. Some folks got out of their boats to stretch their legs, but that boy got dressed so fast that not everyone even got a chance to relax. James asked him if there was a phone booth up there and we all laughed. It was scary how fast he changed, a feat that would have been on display at the traveling freakshow during the 1800's.

Once we had all ran the third drop we eddied out and decided that our group and Scott and Keenans group should run separately from each other because the eddies would get really crowded with such a large group careening down the rive together. So our flotilla peeled out and started down stream, the run was basically read and run class IV for the first several miles, with only a few drops that one person needed to scout so they could point the way for the rest of the group. The one drop we were concerned about was S-turn, for a couple of reasons, mainly because it's the only drop that requires a scout, secondly because it's walled in and there was the potential for wood, and thirdly because it sneaks up on you and there are very small eddies leading up to it and with a large group it could be dangerous.

We scouted for a long time because we noticed some wood downstream that was obscured by a boulder in the middle of the river, so Jared put on his monkey mask and scrambled up the extremely steep river right bank in an attempt to get visual conformation of the wood. Several minutes later he scrambled down with mixed news; the wood was obscuring the whole river but there was a big eddy that could be caught to avoid the wood. Another issue was that the main line had wood in it that could have easily gone unnoticed, but given it's location very dangerous if one were to become entangled in it. So we put in on river right in a small pool and made the move from there

While we were scouting a red object floated down S-turn with a perfect line down the middle. That red object turned out to be Keenan's paddle, upstream he had either dropped it or had it ripped out of his hands. Because we were all out of our boats scouting all we could do was watch the paddle run the rapid. It ran the main move, but then got stuck in a nasty looking eddy pocket against the river left wall, it spent about ten minutes swirling around in it before flushing out of it. Scott and Keenan's group didn't have a spare paddle so poor Keenan had to hike out to the road, because of the loss of one of their paddlers Scott and Jeff joined our group.

After James, jP, and Chip ran I dropped in, the move was easy but forced you to get close to a big scary curling wave that came off of a rock in the middle of the river. Driving hard from right to left I turned on the afterburners and made the move past the rock and caught the eddy in the pool. I stayed in the pool between the two drops in order to catch any potential swimmers or lost gear, adding an additional element of safety.

Everyone ran the drop, some with cleaner lines than others but no swimmer in the first part of the drop. Jared swam above the log because he missed a few rolls and didn't want to drift into the wood upside down in his kayak.

After we all portaged the wood we made our way down stream again, running class IV boogie. After running a class IV set of waves and holes I came down into a small hall way that had a log obscuring the river left side of the slot, but had a line on the right. But as I came into sight of the wood I also saw Oliver pinned on the log, he was facing upstream and upright, but his stern was stuffed under the wood. I quickly caught an eddy next to him and began to assess the situation. jP was already on the log climbing down to Oliver followed by Kris, and Chip had climbed out onto the shore opposite Oliver and jP. This is where things got hairy. JP was able to get right down to river level and talk to Oliver and figure out what was going to work best, then suddenly Chip starts Yelling at jP to tie a rope to the boat to unpin him. This was extremely unhelpful, jP started yelling back for him to shut up and that the situation was handled. As a constant mediator I told jP to keep doing what he was doing, and for Chip to "shut the fuck up". It was eventually decided that Oliver would just climb out of his boat and carry his boat over the log and get back in on river right.

This situation was bad for a few reasons, the main one being the argument between Chip and jP during the extraction, and in this situation Chip was way out of line. For one unpinning the boat was not the primary concern, Oliver was above water and stable, getting him stabilized and out of the boat was the top of the agenda. Chip was ignoring the hierarchy of needs, also he was ignoring the hierarchy of the situation, jP was the first on scene so therefore he was the one in charge, he had already developed a plan and was remaining calm. But when Chip started yelling it added the element of panic to the situation that was unhelpful. I was glad that I was there so I could observe the situation, and calm them both down. Even after they had extracted Oliver they were still going at it and I continually told them to "fucking drop it we'll deal with this off the river", falling back on my experience as a raft guide to de-brief the situation once off the water. I hate having to yell at my friends but somebody had to step in and get Chip to back off and jP to calm down.

Brian Running China Falls

The rest of the trip went smoothly, we got to China falls and all had clean lines, Scott even got some footage of me and the gang running the drop that you can watch at this link, I'm wearing all orange in an orange boat. The sun came out right at that moment and really made it a nice day.

jP planting the boof stroke...

...and boofing.

That night we made camp, and for the first time in quite a while I had to share space with other people, I have become spoiled by camping in secluded and out of the way places. But because of the memorial day weekend, every city kid, family and other mutant was out camping around us. As we pulled into camp there was a scene going on in one of the parking areas, a kid (probably between 18 and 21) was standing on the running board of a suburban and jumping up and down going "whoo... whoo... whoo" with a look on his face of complete idiocy. We dubbed him Whoo-man, because for the rest of the evening Whoo-man would yell into the night "whoo", about every 15 minutes of so. None of us were trying to sleep so it wasn't a big deal, but the whoo became a mantra fro the rest of the weekend.

James below China Falls

The whole night there was drama coming out of their camp, yelling and fights, disagreements in the parking area, and creating a mess. When I crawled into my sleeping bag at 1 am they were still getting at it. During the night James and Kris went over to the camp to observe what was going on. Apparently it was a war zone, tents and campsites in disorder, tents pushed over, trash and all sorts of mayhem. When they pulled into camp there was a fight breaking out over someone sitting in the wrong camp chair, and James stated to the group that "just so everyone knows, I'm OK standing". I wish I could have been there to see that. Also they found several people and whoo-man passed out in the trail and covered in sticks and trash. Those stupid city kids with no sense.

In the morning I took a walk while I was eating breakfast around 7:30 am, I walked out to the bridge that crosses the Cle Elum and looked up stream to see a disaster area. One of the mutants camp sites were completely destroyed and had been pushed into the river. A tent, several camp chairs, and what appeared to be a BBQ were in the water, additionally there were clothes floating in an eddy beneath the bridge. This scene further reminded me that I really enjoy hanging with the type of people that I associate with.

That day we had planned on running the Cooper river, but discovered that the river had not dropped as much as we had anticipated and was still at a high level. JP was stoked and wanted to get on the river but Brian, Oliver, Kris and I weren't too stoked to run the river for the first time at nuclear flows. So James and jP decided that they would do a run and give us a report on the level. while they were on the river we hung out near the last rapid of the trip and threw logs into a nasty looking hole and observed how many times they got recirculated. Also I got to ride James' mountain bike around the trails which was a nice consolation prize.

When the boys got off they said that it went but it was definitely high and "full on". With that information the rest of us opted out of taking a second lap. We formulated a new plan; the plan was to eat and have a beer at the local bar called "The Brick", which turned out to be the states longest continually running bar, the liquor license number is 1. The town of Roslyn turns out to also be where they shot the '90's classic TV show "Northern Exposure". I saw a sign that said Dr. Joel Fleischman and asked "does this town have a Northern Exposure theme or something?" The quick response was "they shot the show here", "Oh I guess that makes sense then" I responded.

For the night we drove over to Snoqualamie pass with intentions to camp near Fall In The Wall and wake up the next morning and run laps on the steep and short FITW. When we got to the gauge the level was lowish but runnable, most of the gang decided to get some laps in that night, but Kris and I weren't highly motivated to get wet and get in a few laps before dark, so we helped shuttle folks and watch them run the last few drops. Every one had clean lines and after about three laps we headed down to camp for the night.

The campsite we were located at is such a funny little oasis, it was huddled down in the valley between the north and southbound lanes of I-90. When your driving by you'd never guess that the space between the highway was anything less than a median strip. While we were down there you could barely even notice that there was a mass of humanity and diesel flowing by overhead.

That night the jokes about Whoo-man continued, we drank more beer, and ate good food, we also made a fire out of some loading pallets that we had procured on our way over the pass. Unfortunately the weather had not been the sunny warm and wonderful experience we had hoped for. While we were in Cle Elum the weather had been cool and overcast the entire time, with a few patches of sun that came through. While we were near FITW it was even worse, a steady mist that built to a light rain that was enough to be uncomfortable but not unbearable. Around midnight I laid down to sleep for the evening.

In the morning we made breakfast at a leisurely pace, and packed up camp before we went kayaking for the day. When we got to the put-in and checked the gauge we discovered that it was going to be a perfect level, a good medium, enough water to cover all the little rocks but not so high that all the drops were running together. On the first run down jP talked me through all the lines and contingency plans in case my line was less than ideal.

The Fearsome Foursome (four large ledges - about 10 feet each - that are separated by short slow moving pools) were definitely intimidating, but the actual move was pretty benign, it was just a matter of getting in the right spot with the right angle. The first two were large sliding ledges, followed quickly by the third which is a sliding ledge that leads into a ski-jump boof, a really run move that makes you feel like a rock star. The fourth is a delayed boof down the middle or a rock scrape down the left. Below is a log limbo drop, as a tall fellow I've never been fond of the log limbos, but this one was high enough that it was manageable but still spooky. The last several drops are much smaller and less scary than the foursome. We quickly boogied down to the take-out and hiked back up for two more laps.

On the second and third laps I had to pull out one of jP's contingency plans above the third drop in the foursome, a back ferry away from the left side of the drop that smashes into the left wall at the bottom. It went just as he described, it was like a tractor beam setting me up perfectly for the drop.

After our third we decided that we were wupped from the weekend and that we wanted to get back to the land of the living and take care of some business. So we packed up and hit the road.

By the time I got back to jP's house in Seattle the sun had come out and a nice afternoon breeze was rolling through. Thanks for the insult mother nature. All-in-all it was a great weekend, I got to paddle with some of my favorite people, and ran three new rivers, not a bad way to spend the memorial day weekend.

Warm days on Yellowjacket Creek

Saturday, May 15th 2010

Yellowjacket Creek 1660 cfs.

Class IV-V

8 miles?

After many weeks of waiting, Yellowjacket creek came into an ideal level to run for the first time, only one issue; all of the regulars "had other plans". So Friday night I was making the frantic phone calls to everyone in the phone chain, and before I got a chance to call Jared, he called me. What a relief! Jared and his friend Jerry, who is from Seattle were going to meet me in Morton and were excited to run a cool section of whitewater.

We were going to run a uncommonly run section of Yellowjacket creek by putting on upstream of the typical put-in. The upper section includes more class III and IV rapids, and a class V waterfall, adding an additional 3+ miles to an already quality section of whitewater.

We park our car at the bridge that crosses Yellowjacket on FR 28 rd and loaded up to head to the goods. Once ready we drove 7+ miles before we reached an obvious triple fork in the road and decided that we had likely found the alternate put-in. We were able to park just seconds from the river, which is much better than the traditional put-in which utilizes a class V hike down a steep hill over loose gravel that takes the better part of an hour, but all we had to do was jaunt down to the river.

The put-in had a monster old growth tree laying in the river and the remnants of a bridge that had washed out years ago. I took a long time stretching because I had spent the better part of Friday weed-wacking and was more sore than I cared to be. And thankfully I did. The description I had read stated that there was only class III rapids above the waterfall, but the rapid directly below the put-in was definitely a class IV. The put-in rapid was a boulder garden with a line that zig-zagged down the middle.

Below the put-in drop was read-and-run class III shoals and ledges, and woody rapids. From the put-in to the traditional put-in there was a fair amount of annoying wood. None of it was very dangerous, and much of it we could paddle through or around, but there was also a bit that needed to be portaged at river level. All easy portages, but were obscuring the exit of several class III drops with no eddy mid rapid to catch so we would be forced to portage the whole drop.

After a bit of this we came to our next big rapid, which had some wood in it. But this rapid was also above a significant horizon line, with a narrow line in it. If this rapid didn't have wood in it it would still be a serious rapid because it was in very close proximity to an unrunnable drop. We portaged around the entrance drop and the log-choked-falls. The falls required downclimbing to a small eddy, and lowering the boats down the cliff. The rapid below was cool because there was wood spiderwebbing overhead that we paddled under before making a move to the right to boof a ledge at the bottom, really fun.

Entrance rapid to unrunnable Log Choked falls

Spider webbing logs in run-out

Pondering the improbable Photo by Jerry Palushock

After this we encountered a class IV+ maybe V rapid that had a ugly looking entrance drop that had a slide into confused water that eventually pushed you far left against the wall before you had to paddle hard to the right through a boulder garden to the bottom of the drop. When I looked at the drop it made me uneasy, but when I saw Jared run clean I figured it must be good to go. I ran second followed by Jerry, all of us had clean lines.

After a few more wood dodges we came to the waterfall that we all came down here for, which for now I will call Upper Yellowjacket falls. Initially Jared scouted from the left because that was the side we eddied out on and it ended up being a nuisance. Jared tried giving me verbal beta, but it wasn't matching up with a picture of the falls I had seen, so I walked back to my boat and paddled across the river to scout from the river right side. This ended up working out for the best for us because I was able to take some shots of Jerry and Jared running the falls, and then Jerry was able to take some shots of me from below. Which I was excited about because I rarely have any pictures of me. Jared ran first and had a clean line and so did Jerry.

Jared in entrance rapid to falls

This drop wasn't even the hardest rapid we had ran yet today, but it was definitely the most consequential, and the tallest I have likely ever run, from pool to pool I would guess 20 feet. The entrance rapid was pretty significant, and the current coming out of the entrance rapid was all pushing to the right side of the drop which is a 15 foot fall onto bedrock. I gave them the signal that I was going to run, and then it started. My heart began to pound, and I got butterflies in my throat, and I needed to take deep breaths every so often. It's weird running big drops, I always feel like a spring in a watch that someone keeps winding and winding, and then you get in your boat and put your skirt is on, and everything changes. I splash some water in my face and make the decision that the time is now and the heart stops pounding, my breath becomes normal and you start paddling. Make the first move into the eddy, start paddling out the back of the eddy with a right angle, one, two, three strokes, boof stroke, and BOOF, landing flat in the water, and that spring that was formerly wound so tight just broke and now you yell. It always amazes me how the body reacts to stress like that, the anticipation is the worst, and then when it's time to face the challenge something in the reptilian brain kicks in and there is only focus, no thought, just reaction to your paddling instincts.

The fun big waterfall. Photo by JerryPalushock

BOOF!

Flyin'

All of us were ecstatic, I spent a few minutes paddling around below the falls just checking it out, so fun, and in reality not the hardest thing I've done, funny how the brain plays tricks on you.

Below the falls was our next portage, this time due to a 30 foot waterfall that landed on a bedrock shelf that protruded from the left shore. Again we scouted even though we knew we were not running it, it just feels cool to stand on the edge of something that big. We opted not to jump into the pool, but if I run this again, I definitely would jump rather than walk around the drop. The portage wasn't difficult, just hot and steep, I must have sweat an ounce of water during the whole thing. We decided that we would carry our boats to a bluff then I would climb down and the others would lower them to me. Easier said than done. The boats would get stuck half way down, and then with some slack out would come loose and come rocketing out of the woods like some sort of plastic missile, heading straight for me before catching the end of the rope and slamming against the wall. Each boat had it's own particular way that it came flying out of the woods, only announced by the breaking of branches on it's way down.

By the time everyone got back to river level I had scouted the next drop and was ready to go, all the sweat was cooling me down and I didn't want to get cold. So I paddled around in the pool while Jared and Jerry cooled off from their hike, and then I ran the slide while Jerry took photos. It was a fun slide very fast and straightforward. I caught the eddy and took pictures of the other two coming through and gave directions for the next part of the rapid.

Standing on the edge

Below the big one

Fun slide below big unrunnable drop. Photo Jerry Palushock

Now that we were below this rapid we had started on what is the traditional put-in. The first rapid was covered in wood and Jerry and I portaged down the right, and Jared portaged down river center on the log, he had to get a bit creative but he made it work. The rest of the river was class III and IV read-and-run. Really fun drops, and nothing scary. Lots of continuous boulder gardens and ledges and other fun features. We were able to make good time on this part because all of the wood had gotten hung up in the first drop. We meandered through several vertical walled gorges, and took in the scenery in the afternoon light. Eventually the river opened up as it came close to the confluence with the Cispus river.

By the time we reached the take out I was exhausted and reminded to bring a snack on the river with me. This section of whitewater was the super fun and I would definitely run it again. This was also the first day I had paddled in sunny warm weather on the west side of the cascades, a nice change from the regular season. All in all it was a super fun day, it took be all of Sunday to recover, but it was still super fun.

Ohane calling

Monday March 22nd 2010

Ohanepecosh River 900 cfs

Class IV-V

4.5 Miles

Sunday night after arriving back in Olympia from the Wind River Race I received a phone call while hanging up my wet gear in the garage. It was Kris and he was itching to get on the water, I was on spring break but he was coming up on finals week and felt the pressure and was looking to blow off some steam on the water. I had been taking about getting on the Ohanepecosh (pronounced Oh-Hanee-pekosh) river, a beautiful class IV-V run located near the base of Mt. Rainier. So after some chit-chat on the phone it was settled that Kris, Jared and I would be going to the Ohane the next morning.

Feeling small on the Ohane

Monday morning I met Kris near his house in Montesano and we started rolling south; one step at a time. We had to do some back tracking and errands before we could really hit the dusty trail, and by the time we arrived at Jared house it was pushing 11:30 am, a little later than I would have liked but we were still doing well on time. At Jared's we picked up him and his bike so we could run a bike shuttle to avoid taking two cars out there for just three people.

The drive out there was beautiful, mostly sunny, about 60 degrees with the occasional sun-shower. At the put-in we suited up and clambered down to the river. As I picked up my boat I started to get the pre-trip nerves, and had to do some breathing exercises to cool myself down a bit. Once in my boat I splashed some water in my face and began to float down stream behind Kris and Jared. Both of them have been down this stretch quite a bit before so I was confident taking verbal beta from them and following their lines down the river.

Feeling REALLY small on the Ohane

Shortly after getting on the water the Ohane rears its teeth, the river notches up and drops through a narrow slot and over a 6-8 foot ledge, that pushes up against the wall at the bottom. I charged from right to left and came flying off the lip, landing in the narrow turbulent pool below. By now I had worked out the pre-trip butterflies and am feeling good, the clean line at the first big drop gave me confidence.

After some boulder gardens we came to the next big horizon line, a cascading drop that consists of three powerful holes that threaten to surf unwitting paddlers. Kris and Jared led down, as I dropped into the rapid I saw Jared flip and begin surfing in the bottom ledge. Being already committed Jared became another obstacle to miss on my way to the bottom of the rapid. I had a good line all the way down and narrowly missed Jared with the bow of my boat. Once all clear we continued moving down stream.

Easy portage

The conditions couldn't have been better, the midday sun shined through the trees and pierced the crystaline waters. Even in it's deepest spots the riverbed was still visible, the water was so clean and clear that no fish would have survived, osprey and eagles would make short order of the fish population.

After many quality rapids we came to "summer creek ledge", a class III+ rapid that leads into a 10 foot river wide ledge, in all it's a IV+ rapid. "Just make sure your on the right side of the ledge" Kris instructed. From the eddy above I watched Kris and Jared go over the horizon line next to the river-right wall, I decided that I would try and find more water nearer to the center of the ledge, and did it pay off! After coming through the lead in I set myself up moving to the spot on the ledge I liked best, paddling with speed, planted my boof stroke on the lip and pulled the trigger. As I landed my boat made the perfect "Boof" sound, it was awesome. Some times in white water you run a drop that just puts a smile on your face, and this was one of them. So satisfying, everything went as I wanted it too; lining up, seeing where to plant the stroke, spotting your landing, and then airing it out like the Sunday wash on the clothes line. As I looked up and saw my friends sitting there, they were all smiles too. I gave an obligatory fist pump in the sky and we moved on down stream.

Below this rapid was a significant portage up and around an ugly rapid called "elbow room", a narrow boxed-in rapid with a fair portion of the river going underneath a slab of rock in the middle of the river. We approached this rapid with the knowledge that we wouldn't be running it, so scouting it was more fun because it lacked the nerves that come with scouting a big drop. The hike around it was manageable but hard, steep with thick underbrush and loose rock once back at the rivers edge. Once finished I was glad to have that piece of work said and done with.

Looking down on "elbow room"

On this trip I ran the biggest vertical drop of my paddling career; "Ohane falls". Ohane is a two tiered drop, the first a sliding drop with a mean hole at the bottom followed by a 15-20 foot water fall that is split, the majority of the current going down the left side and a trickle going down the right. Here we decided to run safety as we ran it one at a time, the prospect of swimming over the falls because of the first hole was a scary thought. Kris went first and had a really good line, flying over the hole and setting up well for the falls. Jared followed and had a less clean line at the first drop, getting wheelied by the hole, but had the best line at the falls. I ran last, and had a good enough line in the first drop, ending up a little closer to the middle of the hole than I wanted, but came out fine, the falls didn't go as well though. I got spun sideways by a rock under the water and went off the second falls completely sideways, landing flat on my ass in the pool below. I look up to see Kris peering over the ledge with a concerned look on his face, I gave him the all clear sign and looked at Jared who was having a nice chuckle to himself in the river.

Second drop of "Ohane falls"

The following drop Jared and I ran the sneak line because the meat looked a little above my pay grade; three large hole that were stacked above a significantly undercut rock. Kris ran the meat while I sat on shore with a rope, he came out of the second drop in an atomic wheelie. Once he put it down we looked at each other with wide-eyed-amazement that he hadn't backendered into the hole. The sneak was a bit low, but the third drop was really fun, a sweeping airplane turn that rides up on a rock and sweeps down into the river, super fun.

Enjoying a beautiful day in the Northwest

The rest of the trip was class II and flat water, a truly awesome river to run. We made our way down to the car and relaxed in the waining afternoon sun. Daylight savings time made our late start manageable, taking off the river with daylight to spare. It didn't seem like anything could go wrong until Kris got pulled over by a state trooper on the way home, 69 in a 60. Bummer.

Multisport

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Toutle River 1400 cfs

Class III-IV

4 miles

Due to dry weather, sunny days and cold temps, the rivers were low. All of them. Except one. The Toutle, the river that will have a bit of water in it when all else fails. Chris and I were the only ones who wanted to get wet so we met at Fred Meyers and loaded into the Previa with two kayaks and a bike.

It didn't make any sense to us to bring two cars with us and have to drive an hour and a half in lonely silence, so we opted for the bike shuttle. The bike shuttle made this a multi sport day for me, kayaking with some biking. Nothing better than a little cardio to top off the end of a kayak trip.

At the take out we changed, stashed the bike in the woods and locked it to the biggest tree that I could find, and drove to the put-in. The river was fun, sunny and warm with some waves to surf, eddies to catch and a beer to share between friends (after the rapids Mom).

At the take out I peeled off the extraneous gear, grabbed the bike and began my ridiculous bike ride to the car. Ridiculous for a couple of reasons. 1) I was wearing my kayak helmet and my bright orange drysuit, I probably looked like an astronaut. 2) I was wearing my booties which made riding surprisingly more difficult. 3) I failed to remove my specialty clipped pedals and replace them with my platform pedals. This final bit was the most troublesome on the steep hill climb back up to the top.

One thing that I had forgot about bike riding and hill climbing in particular is how much more of your surroundings you are able to observe whilst riding through the country. As I began plodding up the hill in my silly outfit I was keen to snoop into peoples backyards and observe the piece of country I spend plenty of time driving through.

The first piece of Americana that I noticed was a house - and I use that term very liberally - with a sign out front that stated the name of the house or perhaps the inhabitant; Unka Dave. Now notice the manner in which David spells his name; U-N-K-A, this is perhaps a reflection of his education or a deliberate attempt at standing up to the establishment. I would think that the latter is likely considering Unka Dave's dilapidated abode and his belief that having a trash pile as a yard ornament would be good for property value. I had a good giggle over Unka and continued my tour north toward the car.

As I rode by a well manicured and modern home I was greeted by the beginning of the chorus in Ozzy "The Prince of Darkness" Osbourne's first single "crazy train". It was blasting out an open garage door where a gentleman was working underneath what I believe was his Chevy Chevelle SS, a classic car worthy of the Prince of Darkness. I flashed him the devil horns and sang along as I peddled my happy ass along.

As I huffed and puffed up the steep pitch to the top of the last hill before the car I was reminded why riding on the road surrounded by errant drivers and speed freaks always worried me. As is chugged around a sharp bend in first gear I heard the approaching engine of a commuter sedan. The Geo Prizm flew by me at a good clip, the two liter, four cylinder engine whining away at 6,000 RPM under the strain of it's hefty occupants. They either didn't see me or didn't care, I find it more likely that they didn't see me because as I've mentioned before I was wearing a bright orange drysuit that to the untrained eye might be mistaken for a prison jumpsuit. They left me sucking black smoke from the oil burning in their cylinders, and with a heart racing due to the close call. In their defense there is no way I would have seen me either if I was driving as fast as they were.

Once at the top of the hill I was able to make quick speed down to the car, the sleeves of my drysuit tied around my waist flapping erratically in the wind. Once back at the car I loaded up the bike and drove back to Chris at the take-out, who was sleeping soundly in the sun, from the road any one who didn't know what was up would have thought that there was a man in his PJ's sleeping in the parking lot. The drive back to Fred Meyers was uneventful because were were in a Mexican food induced coma, or maybe it had to do with the MSG.

Lava falls; welcome to the chunder dome

Saturday, February 20th 2010

White Salmon river, Farmlands section, 3.5 feet

Class IV-V

5.1 miles

Due to a lack of rain and cold weather, this weekend a large caravan of people made a pilgrimage to White Salmon, WA. The group consisted of Jon, Jon's girlfriend Katie, Chipper, Chippers girlfriend Kelsey, jP, and myself, and we ended up meeting up with other groups that included Texas Dave, Dan, Fish, and Ian. Friday afternoon I drove down solo and went to All Adventures where we would be sleeping that night. I arrived at the old stomping grounds and was warmly met by Karen, I hung out with her for several hours and watched the Olympics and talked about politics, local gossip, plans for next year, and firearms. Time well spent with the Boss. The rest of the gang arrived late because of their long slog from Seattle.

After a bitter cold night (24 degrees F) sleeping in the bed of the truck, I roused around 8:00 am, and made myself some coffee while I waited for the sun to rise. The rest of the gang woke up soon after and we began to hash out plans for the day. We were going to wait for Fish and Ian to go paddling, and they wouldn't be there until noon, so we had a leisurely breakfast, checked the river level at the gauge in Husum, and then rallied up to the take-out to meet the rest of the gang.

Most of the group including myself wanted to have a warm-up day on the Farmlands section of the White Salmon, a class IV-V run located several miles north of the BZ corners. We dropped my truck at the take out, and the girls drove us up to the top and dropped us off. They had made plans to do some hikes at the advice of Karen.

We suited up and clambered down to river level, did some warm-up paddling, and then made our way down to the first rapid of consequence; Little Sidewinder and Sidewinder. Little Sidewinder is a straightforward class III+ with some weird water at the bottom. Sidewinder proper is a relatively easy line with disastrous consequences, if a paddler messes up their line there is a large undercut rock that the current pushes you under. The rapid looks ugly and in reality wouldn't be that satisfying, after some scouting, jP, Jon, and I decided that we didn't want to flirt with disaster and walked around. Chipper felt otherwise, he wanted to run it, so he did, and with a really good looking line.

This section of the river is pool-drop in nature, basically that means that there is a rapid followed by a flat pool of water. From below sidewinder there were several class III and IV drops, all shaped by the bedrock riverbed, some big ledges, and S-turning rapids all were fun and relatively low stress. The next big rapid we arrived at is Lava Dam Falls, it's a 15 foot ledge that has no lead-in rapid above it, just a glassy pool. We scouted and then Jon ran it first and had a really quality line, off the lip with speed and landed flat and paddled away from the hole. jP went next and had a different line but was equally successful. Chip followed and was not as successful. He approached the lip and threw in a really strong boof stroke, landed flat, and then the boil from the backwash turned him and brought him in towards the falls. I scrambled down the rocks with the throw bag to get a better angle because he had gone out of my line of sight and he was gone. When I say he was gone, I mean that there was no sign that he had even just run the drop, no paddle, no boat, nothing. Just a pounding waterfall with three kayaker's staring at it in puzzlement.

what had happened was the force of the falls had sucked him behind the veil of the falls and had pinned him and his boat between the veil and the rock behind it. Eventually you could see the orange of his kayak showing through the falls. After about 10-20 seconds of this Chip breached the surface downstream, I threw him the bag and pengulumed him to the shore. His boat eventually flushed out and went downstream, jP chased it through the next rapid and collected it in the pool below. Chip being too eager to get back to his boat, almost jumped back into the river to swim through the rapid, which was the only option, but at the time we - as a group - needed to take a second to smoke the proverbial cigarette and calm down a second and talk about our next plan of action. I still wanted to run the falls so I wanted to have someone with a throwbag and someone else in their boat to pick up the pieces if it all went bad.

Now it was my turn, I took a final look at the line and where I wanted to be, climbed in my boat, splashed some water in my face and started charging for the lip. From here the next thing I remember is being upside-down at the base of the falls with the falls pounding on the hull of my boat. I couldn't roll because of the ultra aerated water, I could feel the boat being tossed around, and I eventually decided that extricating myself from the kayak was going to be my best option to go deep and away from the cave that Chip had taken a short vacation in. Somehow the falls had imploded my skirt for me and I was now swimming freely underneath the falls. Swimming in a hydraulic is extremely disorienting, the water is tossing you around, and the things you learn as a raft guide about swimming whitewater aren't in the forefront of your mind, in some respects it's panic-mode. After being chundered around a bit I eventually remembered to ball up in a cannonball, this flushed me deep and the next thing I was catching a rope from Chip whom I had pulled out of the river only too recently.

My boat and paddle flushed downstream and Jon chased. Now chip and I were sans kayaks, standing above a class IV rapid that we would need to swim in order to get back in our boats. There were no options for walking around, so we got prepared to swim through some substantial holes in order to get back to our boats. Chip jumped first and I followed shortly behind. The first two ledges we stuck down the left side of the river and then swam strongly to the middle to avoid the hole on the left and the right wall that I had seen my boat get hung up in for a minute. The worst part of the swim was how cold it made my hands and feet. I had forgot to put thick wool socks in my bag so I had been forced to wear white cotton socks underneath my drysuit. Dumb. My feet wouldn't warm up until we got off the river an hour and a half later.

There was one last class V rapid at the end of the trip which I optioned out of because my confidence was in tatters. We paddled down to the take out and our cars.

The hardest part about this experience for me isn't the physical beating that I received, but more about the bruising of my ego and confidence. For the rest of the day I was in a solid depression about my situation, not because I swam, but rather because I had such a bad line that forced me to swim. It wasn't until a few days later that I was able to remind myself that I am a competent paddler, and that I won't do that again. Paddling teaches us plenty about ourselves and our limitations, it also reminds us what is so exciting about whitewater; the unforeseeable future.

Jared: my friend the narcoleptic

On Saturday February 13, my friends and I decided to paddle our local playboating run the Tilton. The day wasn't particularly exceptional, we surfed, and played down the river, stopped a few times to stretch the legs and regain feeling in our feet. But there was one instance that is memorable just because of how hard I laughed.

On this day Chris and I had gotten behind the main group for a moment in order to empty out the gallon or so of water that was sloshing around at our feet. We dumped our boats, and then got back in the water and paddled downstream in order to catch up with the rest of the group. The rest of them were floating in eddies around the corner waiting for us to run the rapid and group up again. The rapid that separated us was an easy class III with multiple lines, I started on the River Right and weaved my way over to river Left to catch an eddy that Jared was in.
Oh, here is some background information on Jared. Jared, is one of the first people I started paddling with when I arrived in Olympia, and he has a peculiar manner of things, but a good guy all around. The guys and I always give him a hard time about his sleeping habits. "If he doesn't get his required 17 hours of sleep he can't function" or, "Jared the undiagnosed Narcoleptic". The kid can sleep anywhere and anytime, sitting up, standing against his car, at a stop light, and now in his kayak.

As I pulled into the eddy Jared had his paddle in his lap, holding onto a rock, elbow resting on the cockpit rim, and his cheek against his hand. Dozing. Initially I didn't realize he was sleeping, but when I pulled up next to him and said "what's up!" and he startled awake I lost it. I laughed for the next 20 minutes, I had to go up to everyone and explain why I couldn't stop laughing. It became infectious, the legend about Jared and his need for sleep just gained notoriety. This morning while I was in the shower I thought about it again and started laughing just as hard. If I didn't know him like I do this event wouldn't have been very funny, it might have been even a little scary. I might be lead to believe that he was having a stroke or a heart attack, or some other disorder that was killing him. But no. I laughed. I laughed hard. I've woken him up enough times in a variety of other situations, but this was a first. Fast asleep, sitting in his kayak, at the bottom of the Tilton gorge. Classic. Sounds like a Seinfeld episode.

I think that doctors could use him as a case-study to write there doctorate thesis' on, any man that can sleep even while there adrenaline gland is pumping is truly special.

Scraping Down The Satsop

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010

W. Frk. Satsop, 2400 CFS

Class IV

4.0 Miles

This Saturday Kris, Chip, Jon, Dan, and I made a trip down the West Fork of the Satsop Gorge, a short stretch that contained two walled in gorges and class IV water. Chip and Jon picked me up in Oly and we rallied over to Kris's for a cup of coffee and to load kayaks into and onto trucks. We worked out the logistics and began driving the hour-or-so north to the river. We wound our way through clear cuts and bumpy forest service roads in search of the take-out. At the take-out bridge we checked the visual gauge and discovered that the water was going to be lower than anyone in the group had run it before, but after driving all the way out here we felt it was still our best option. We were going to help with river bed erosion as we scraped our way downstream.

After running shuttle we began the usual slog through ferns, devils club, and deadfall, down steep and loose slopes to the rivers edge. The first mile or so consisted of class I and II shoals and maneuvering around and away from fallen trees. The gorge appeared very suddenly, walls closed in and the first horizon line of the day reared its head. We scouted along the left shore and were presented with a straightforward class IV rapid, the lead-in was obscured by trees hanging low in the water but were easy to avoid. The first drop was a S-turn in front of and then behind a large boulder in the middle of the current. Below this boulder was a very narrow gorge, perhaps 6-7 feet wide with fast moving current, the exit of this gorge was obscured by a log that we ducked under the right side of. From here there was several hundred yards of class III until our next horizon line.

Kris scouted from the right side, but unfortunately there was not enough room for the rest of us to get into the eddy. Chip scouted from river left as well while Ben, Jon and I waited in some eddies upstream. Kris and Chip scouted for a long time, scrambling and looking at the rapid from all angles. I was becoming increasingly uneasy about the rapid due to the amount of time they spent looking at the drop. Eventually Kris gave us the Thumbs Up, pointing to the middle of the first ledge then pointing left. I didn't particularly like this but trusted my friends and dropped in. The rapid turned out to be a double ledge, followed by a narrow gorge with some wood hanging into the river.

From here we exited the first gorge and quickly entered the second gorge. The first big rapid of this gorge was a mandatory portage, a large rootball obscured the left side of the entrance and water was flushing through and around this. Below the initial wood was even more wood that was piled 10-15 feet above the water level. The drop looked like it might be runnable without Woody Harrelson parked in it, but there was so much water flowing into the pile that it wasn't a viable option. We portaged along the top of the pile, carfully walking along large trees, passing the boats to each other in a chain until we could get back to river level. There were times where I was standing on gravel that high water events had deposited in the pile creating a cement-like substance. We all took our time getting back to river level and climbed back into our boats incident free.

Below this rapid the riverbed became much steeper and more continuous. Due to the low water there was some less-than-ideal lines we had to make, paddling close to wood and rocks that had a pinning potential. After about a mile of this the river slowed down and we eventually came around the corner and saw the bridge. We climbed the steep bank up to the river and to the cars.

Behind our group was my Friends jP, Brian, Nick and others that had joined them. We all hung out on the bridge and enjoyed the warm weather, partly sunny skies, and our Pabst Blue Ribbons. Not a bad way to spend a day on the water.