FULL THROTTLE

Farewell 2011

2012-01-04T00:29:00.000-08:00

All come to Bald Rock. Out in the street, they call it murder. At around 300 cfs, most people will, at least, say its too low. A 'Wild and Scenic' river shines forth though, showing that while other rivers may be too low, it still has 'just enough' flow. The Middle Feather's source high in the Sierras is still melting, giving us water to enjoy a fine river gorge over New Years Eve. Serving as the take-out for multiple other kayak runs, Milsap Bar is the remote put-in for this California classic. What lies downstream is a deep, dark, smooth, and spectacular gorge that demands respect. Even at, what could be, the lowest flow ever paddled, this river still packs a punch you wouldn't want to serve to an unknowing bystander.

Meet Mike Peacher, he's a whitewater assassin. Lead him to the burl, and he will charge.

Looking at the river gauges on Dreamflows.com, I began to realize how dry the state of California actually is right now. Nonetheless, having probed the South Yuba river at extremely low flows recently, I began to question whether Bald Rock would still be relatively runnable at 300cfs. I convinced myself and Mike Peacher it was. Therefore, we set in motion a plan to kayak into Bald Rock canyon and spend the night on December 31st 2011. What we would take away from the experience was a series of trials and tribulations that you can only get from an expedition, of sorts.

Committing to the canyon at Milsap Bar, later than hoped, as usual.

After getting lost a few times, we made it to Milsap Bar and made our vessels ready to launch for an over-nighter. Having heard stories of car theft at Milsap, I made sure to hide my keys in a super-obscure, debris-infested, hillside, to prevent possible foul-play. I was asking for it.

It channelizes well, making it feel somewhat pushy, even at meager flow.

To our pleasant surprise, the river was very gentle and pleasing, as we found the narrow lines easily. Sure, the huge granite stones were exposing more of their ugly under-sides, but the river also allowed us more freedom to avoid them. With the bad, also comes some good. Peacher, having never done the run before, was stoked to be mobbing some burl, as was I.

The eye of Bald Rock looks on.

Before too long, we reached the entrance to Atom Bomb gorge, the crux of the run. Unfortunately, the lead-in rapid was a bit too rich for our taste, and so we made a sketchy portage up and over some icy boulders. I decided to check out the river-left side of what is normally a portage at higher flows. I quickly exclaimed, "Oh my god!" to Mike, as I caught my first glimpse of the drop. It was good-to-go!

Squeezing through, like mustard out of a bottle.

Speed is the key to bridging a gap. I charged the not-even-boat-width crack and somehow found purchase in the meager 50cfs flowing through. I propelled myself through that gap successfully, and enjoyed the calm, deep, pool below. Peacher went next and didn't have quite as much speed, and somewhat wave-wheeled the drop. But it still looked pretty tight.

Finding the path.

The exit of the drop was a debris infested sieve, but with minimal flow, we were able to find a safe passage, which allowed us to avoid the infamous 'hairy ferry'. Makes me wonder if anyone else has run that drop before. By this time, it was getting dark, and so we carried our boats around the massive Bishop-sized boulders. Finding a perfect camp-spot, with plenty of weathered driftwood, and a nearby cliff to keep us on our game, even through the late-night Tequila shots.

Living on the edge, quite literally.

New Years Eve is, for most people, the biggest party night of the year. We, on the other hand, were alone in a remote river canyon, reminiscing about all the other great river-trips we had taken that year. It was a windy night that kept the fire raging all night. Luckily, there was a plethora of large, beautiful, driftwood lodged in the high-water sieves, providing wonderful camp fuel, for warmth and cooking.

We awoke, later than hoped, thanks to Tequila, to find a glorious California day of sunny blue skies warming up the trees, rocks, birds, and burl for 2012. We scouted the final drop of Atom Bomb falls from our boats, and I declared I wouldn't run it without heavy back-up on hand, to save me in case of an easily botch-able line. It exudes some serious power, even though the flow had dropped even further than the previous, last day of 2011.

Here, Peacher examines the ultra-burly final falls.

Shortly downstream of Atom Bomb, there is, what I like to refer to as, The Rok Sieve. I haven't seen the GoPro footage, but Rok told me he accidentally charged in blind, once. Which lead to an epic, all-team swim through a nasty sieve. We portaged it of course, as Curtain Falls thunders shortly downstream, stoking us up, for a nice 20 foot waterfall. Well, it wasn't much of a falls this day, but got our blood pumping nonetheless.

Floating down a perfect ramp of the earth, Mike Peacher enjoys the Curtain.

The river was pretty deceiving at the low-flow, as I scouted a rapid I thought was easily runnable. To my dismay, I got pinned on a stone in the middle of the river, and felt the boat flexing under me. Somehow, I wiggled off unharmed, but my boat suffered a devastating blow, that breached its integrity on the side. No worries, I can paddle with water coming in my boat, for a while, at least.

As you can see, it was still pretty exciting in there.

There were many more 'pretty-burly' rapids than I remembered, towards the end of the run. Keeping us on our toes until we saw the massive Feather Falls cascading down the river-left, where Fall Creek enters, with just a trickle on this day. I guess most fishermen were hungover from NYE, forcing us to paddle the 3 miles of flat-water to my friends property on Bean Creek.

It was tight.

I made a horrible decision. It looked like there was a trail going back upstream to a road not too far from the lake. Key word, looked. It didn't exist, and we were forced to do some of the hardest 'shwacking' I've ever done. I lost it at one point. Yelling seemed to help me deal with the stress of carrying a heavy kayak through a steep, thick, and slick forest. But hey, that which does not kill you, only makes you stronger, right?

Bald Rock.

Well, if you are interested in doing this run, feel free to e-mail me at willpruett@gmail.com for directions on where and how to park at my friends land on Bean Creek. He is super-cool and willing to run shuttles for beer. He fed us some amazing lentils and rice that really hit the spot, and then drove us back to Milsap Bar. Where we found that my keys were stolen by some mischievous creature. We thoroughly scoured the hill I left them on, and found no trace of them.

Leaving our trace.

We got the old Subaru hot-wired pretty easily, but didn't realize, until after Joe left, that my steering-wheel lock was still engaged. Leaving Peacher and I stranded in a remote spot. So, we made the best of it, and slept in the car, occasionally cranking the engine to heat us up. The next day, we hiked the 9 miles back to HWY 162 and called our good buddy Justin Patt. He came to our rescue with pizza, beer, and most-importantly a drill.

Its always worth it, no matter what happens in the end.

A little elbow grease later, and we were back on the road, mission almost complete. Keys just weren't on our side this trip, as we couldn't find the key to Joe's gate either. Forcing us to hike a mile down his road, and back up with all our gear. It wasn't nothing but a chicken-wing on a string!

Bald Rock is one, hell of a way, to start a year, which I'm sure is going to test us just like every year. But thats what keeps me 'Charged Up', seeking the next adventure, not knowing how its all gonna work out. Keep exploring!

Connoisseur's Run

2011-12-29T13:59:00.000-08:00

Cane Creek into North Chickamauga.

Well, I wouldn't have said it myself, but after hearing my Team Jib partners give it the title, I agree that Cane creek into North Chickamauga is a connoisseur's run. Actually, it was the first 'real' creek I ever paddled. I don't consider Tellico a 'real' creek run because it is roadside. Cane is decently remote once you are in there. I heard that some people recently did an unintentional over-nighter due to high water. With that being said, I greatly enjoyed an afternoon run with a huge crew of 14 people.

Team Jib OGs- Bryce Evans, Ryan Eichorn, Jason Arnold, and Brian Knight at the put-in.

I forgot my helmet at the take-out. Luckily, a few guys from the northeast named Chris and David let me borrow their Shred Ready full-face. It felt weird. I hand paddled down the first mile because Taft Sibley said he found a Werner Shogun with pogies at the first portage on his first run. My hands almost froze during that first low-volume mile. I celebrated at the sight of a real paddle with pogies, but quickly lost stoke when I realized it was a zero degree off set. Once again, it felt weird.

Here is David from the NE entering the Vortex.

As usual, my Team Jib buddies left me in the dust. I took a new line in the entry to Big Splat that got my heart pumping with the threat of a piton. The Nomad kept me safe, continually showing its love for me. Upon reaching the lip of Vortex, the biggest rapid on the run, I bluntly stated to my newfound NE friends that we had a long way to go, and that they needed to Charge in order to not get 'unintentionally overnighted'! They took the suggestion with great heed and quickly fired into Vortex. I was impressed with their 'Charge-ability'!

The next rapid is called Drain Pipe, and everyone flowed through nicely. A massive overhanging ledge extends over the river called Rock House, a typical sight in the sandstone laden Chattanooga area. We made quick work of the following boogie water that leads to the confluence with North Chickamauga. Here, it picks up some more volume and develops some stellar swirls, waves, and holes.

Nick Murphy, hot off his Chile charge, mobbed the main line of N. Chick falls.

North Chick falls is a cool rapid that gives up some pretty sweet boofs. If you run it down the meat, you might have a bit more splashy and exciting ride. The crew did laps on it, and Taft Sibley intentionally took a surf in the entrance hole, that was so strong, it blew his skirt. Luckily, Taft is a Jimi-Cup champion squirt boater, and gracefully docked his Eskimo on the bank without having to swim. A good thing on such a cold day.

Bett Adams executes a textbook boof.

I forgot how many nice playspots there are on the run, making me wish I had brought a playboat. We moved along at a nice pace, then eddied out to watch our younger female friend Mary Katherine get beat-down in some rowdy holes. She took a few swims, but kept a great attitude and finished the run strong. We didn't want to spend the night in there, and charged through the Bowling Alley section rapidly. I remember when I used to run that section after school all the time. There are some interesting swirls in there.

Mary Katherine driving her Nomad like a champion.

Overall, Cane into North Chick is a really quality float with a multitude of styles of rapids, that makes you feel like you're getting a full tour de rio. We only had to portage one log at the gauge for Cane. I always enjoy a run with few portages, as I like staying in my boat. Twas a fine visit back to Chattanooga, and lucked out with the presence of rain, breathing life into the rivers of my hometown. Now, I'm stoked to be back in California. I think we're gonna do an low-flow overnighter on the Bald Rock to ring in the New Year on a beautiful river. Cheers to the New Year!

Blessing

2011-12-21T23:04:00.000-08:00

Bear creek in Georgia is most definitely a blessing. As with most stellar rewards, they come in short, unpredictable, spells that leave us craving more. After running the Bear, even at a low flow of 9'', I feel satisfied with my return home, beyond just seeing my family. For once in the history of FULL THROTTLE, I am writing this post immediately after the event went down. I rounded up what old-school gear I could find in the barn, and borrowed a Nomad from my boy Nick Murphy. While sorting through gear at Jib Headquarters, I found an old seven2 paddle I figured Paul Hubbard wouldn't mind me using. I mobbed to the river and found my friends Crisler Torrence and Luke Scott at the put-in. The hair of the Bear will always give you a good scare! So, without further ado, I give you the pictures from the trip.

Chrisler is happy to be on the water, even in an old-school Y. Little did we know, this would be the old boat's last run.

The creek starts off with some low-angle, bedrock, slides that are perfect for warming up.

The sandstone geology of Lookout Mtn. reminds me that I'm home. Overhanging rocks are common here.

The only portage of the day, simply because there wasn't enough water to take the 'normal' sneak line down Surrealistic Pillow.

Crisler styles the left line at Fishbowl. It didn't take much convincing for him to mob in.

After Crisler watched my bouncy, yet clean line down Stairway to Heaven, he was inspired to fire it up. Without adequate aqua to pad the bedrock, Crisler took a bad bounce in the crux, and through Jedi-like maneuvers, kept it hairy side up. However, the old Y took a blow that proved to be fatal. Knowing that the trail is only a few burly rapids downstream, Crisler limped his broken kayak onward.

Luke Scott took the knuckle draggers out for a spin to spice it up a bit. Here he is avoiding a dangerous strainer in Cosmic Trigger.

Even with a sinking ship, Crisler knows how to make himself sail over rocks in Big Bang. Its more than just a theory.

A great new drainplug. We all agreed that Revelations was the best rapid of the day, which you can see in the background. Team Jib ran it multiple times.

Taylor Martin was feeling blessed by his Bear creek birthday bash. We caught their crew after Revelations, and it was entertaining watching my friends struggle to recognize me in retro gear.

The birthday boy unwraps a stylish cross bow draw to set him up perfect for Momentary Lapse of Reason.

Bear master Bryce Evans getting parallel through Armageddon.

Taylor Martin does the limbo under a common threat.

And again, avoiding the aggressive Tree Bass that has infiltrated our blessed stream-bed.

Charlie Mix propels his rhasta colored Villain through a maze of stones.

Paul Hubbard finds his balance in Gargoyle. Shortly downstream, Paul asked me whats up with Omega, fittingly named as the last rapid. I said I don't know, and routed him in for his first time.

Like a colorful caravan, we march back to civilization, charged up from a stellar day on Bear Creek. Looks like we might get to run it again here soon. Stay up.

Current

2011-12-20T04:45:00.000-08:00

Rivers are incredible. They can teach us so much. I don't believe we are learning anything new, but instead, remembering what we already know. Water is the medium in which we live, and carries with it everything that makes the earth beautiful. Rivers are constant, but also constantly changing. We are the same.

Love is a word that describes a feeling of oneness and connection like no other. I love everything. You might ask, "Do you love murderers, traffic, drought, or depression"? My answer is yes. Without the bad, you have no way of knowing what is good. Experiencing the so-called 'bad', gives us much more appreciation of the 'good'. If you try to get rid of the 'bad', you will also extinguish the 'good'.

Balance gives us a feeling of center and foundation. I strive for balance. The Buddha taught the Middle Way, which means to find balance or center. Whether you are kayaking, writing, walking, or simply being; balance is the key to satisfaction. Nobody likes to fall down or fail. Our balance depends on the head, the center for thought, the command center, the place where these words are coming from. We must strive for balance of the mind first and foremost.

Improvement is based upon judgment. What one person sees as improvement, might seem destructive to another. Nonetheless, the internal judge is always the one we should always listen to. It keeps us constantly striving for improvement. When you improve, you feel alive, new, fresh, and inspired to keep the change going. We must emphasize improvement if we truly want to become a more complete human, society, or consciousness.

Consciousness is something you can't escape from. Its like an imaginary devil and angel sitting on your shoulders. Its speaks to you from a source that can't be explained. There is no need to try and understand or label it. All we have to do is listen to it, and act accordingly. How can we improve consciousness? Opening ourselves up to the universe will expand our consciousness and give us more freedom. When we begin to see ourselves in all, love will surely expand. Just as the moon pulls on the waves, making them crash on the beach, our consciousness pulls us towards a pure existence, crashing our bleak concept of an independent 'self'.

Travel can be seen in many ways. To travel through the depths of one's mind can be a frightening experience if we aren't careful. Often times, we move through life not knowing how or why the mind functions the way it does. Our experiences in this body, on this earth, in this time, are the deciding factors of how we think, and who we are. To question the thoughts that make us who we are is the only way to truly understand 'oneself'. If we don't question ourselves, how are we to question anyone else?

You may be questioning where or why these thoughts that I am writing are coming up now. I question them myself. My only answer is that by being written, I am beginning to understand my mind. I am trying to find rivers of love with balance that will improve my consciousness to travel fluidly through time, space, and knowledge. I hope we will all feel inspired to grow through any, and all, mediums we choose. Charge or be charged. This is life.

All photos are of the Gap section of the South Yuba river. An incredible place that has made me a stronger person, having passed through those turbulent gates nine times now. Happy holidays.

Best in the West

2011-11-13T19:33:00.000-08:00

Howdy Ya'll!

In my humble opinion, the Middle Fork of the Kings river is the best California Class V kayak run. After completing all the legendary rivers featured in the 7 Rivers Expedition, with the exception of Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne, I feel pretty comfortable giving MFK top honors. With great effort, comes great reward, and this trip is no exception.

Having to hike your kayak, 5 days worth of food, and your camping gear 12 miles up and over a 12,000 foot pass, makes you wonder if its worth it. I don't consider the hike to be a burden, rather a pleasant stroll through some of the most captivating scenery on the planet.

This year, being my forth tour, I felt pretty comfortable with the all-around magnitude of the endeavor. The crew included Mike Peacher, Barny Young, Nick Murphy, King Charles, and Jordy Searle.

Ironically, King Charles was forced to hike-out early into the run, due to a massive breach in his kayak's hull. Jordy was injured from some burl on Hospital Rock, also slightly ironic, and simply provided ground support on the hike.

Once you make it to the river, after trudging down around 1000' of switchbacks, you are ready to taste the magical waters of his majesty. After speaking with a ranger at the put-in, it was confirmed that the water is cleaner than any tap-water. So, we got in our boats and started charging down the river, taking gulps as we plugged into the countless swirls. The beginning of the run is really low volume and manky, but fun nonetheless.

While driving the shuttle, we saw a few rattlesnakes and an owl carrying a mouse. As we expected, somebody noticed a Bear chilling next to the river, close to where I was portaging. Its so exciting in there! We made camp early after running the picturesque notch to slide rapid. The stars glimmered us to sleep quickly, deeply tired and satisfied from being in the Kings Canyon. I awoke early, with thoughts of the 7 Rivers cover drop, aka Squeeze Play, lurking closely downstream. I walked down to take a peak before anyone had woken, to find a lower flow than my previous descent of the rapid. I didn't like the way it looked.

Taylor Cavin, Dan Menten, Scott Ligare, and Chris Zwaki joined us in scouting the tight waterfall. Dan felt fired up, and decided to give it a go. I recommended that he charge. He charged, but the waterfall was hungry after having more than a year without action. He surfed the hole for while, locked in by the overhanging left wall. Ropes began to fly, but none were successful. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Dan resurfaced, out of his boat, way downstream. We were all on the river left bank, unable to pull Dan up the sheer cliff we were standing on. I ran downstream to the last possible eddy before the next burly rapid. When I saw Dan floating toward the lip of said rapid, I fired my throw rope with great conviction. Luckily, the rope landed right over the bill of his helmet, but he didn't immediately respond. We yelled at him and he woke up just in time. I reeled him in like the biggest trophy fish in the world. Saved just in the nick of time. He was coughing up serious amounts of water and completely exhausted. After recovering all the gear, a ranger asked for our permit, and Peacher inquired as to why she didn't have a six-shooter on her side. Having just witnessed a near-death experience, we began paddling downstream with a different perspective.

The snow-bridge was one of the highlights of my entire summer. I have never seen such an amazing spectacle. While paddling under it, we were exposed to a cathedral of dimples that were nothing short of beautiful. It was a baptism of sorts, crossing under a snow-bridge created from the largest snow-pack in California's recorded history.

The ultra-classic big slide was epic as always, and I got stopped like a fast-ball into the catchers mitt in the hole at bottom. Luckily, I was able to stoke my way out of it without a problem. Not surprisingly, Barny broke his kayak soon before the waterfall gorge. We patched her up as best we could and ran some awesome whitewater. Looking at the one of the last un-run drops of the Kings, I'm surprised Tommy Hilleke or somebody hasn't given her a go. Its a pretty walled-in, backed-up, super-powerful hydraulic; so, I guess its not that surprising, since you get so many other 'good' rapids on the run.

We camped in an amazing meadow, and discussed how lucky I was to nail Dan with my rope. The next day, we woke up to another perfect, sunny, glorious atmosphere for routing long Class V rapids. I always remember the section just above the Big Bad Beaver to keep you more than adequately entertained.

Therefore, when we got to the BBB, all of us but Nick decided to walk around. With typical Nick Murphy fashion, he rode his Jah-mad up and over the chaotic compression hole that keeps most mortals at bay. Cheers of celebration ensued, as its always good to watch a team-member style the largest rapid on the run. Tehipite dome is one of the many rewards you receive from staying on point and continuing deeper into the canyon.

Always a hard night of sleep, thinking about MFK B9-er and the Garlic Falls, the final stretches of the trip. The bottom 9 keeps you humble more than any other section of river I have been on, but I love it for that. Too many rapids in there to remember, and you find yourself mad-bombing steep technical boulder gardens that can eat your lunch, constantly.

We kept it safe in there and took a rewarding break at the confluence of the Middle and South Kings rivers. Having completed all of the Middle Fork is an accomplishment for sure, but I have seen Garlic Falls serve up just as much carnage as the rest.

Lucky for us this time, we mobbed the big-water without hindrance, and celebrated with the sights of the take-out. As Barny would say, funny how you are ready to leave one of the greatest kayaking rivers in the world after spending 5 grueling days in there. The beers flowed forth, having been chilled by our whitewater roller-coaster.

We left my favorite place in the entire world, with a fitting California sunset over Pine Flat lake, which hinders the King's natural progression to the sea.

We made it to Barny's house in Groveland that night, but couldn't muster the motivation to paddle faster-than-usual down Cherry Creek the next day. So, we rolled in hot off an epic mission, to one of the best parties of the year, and raged late into the night with our fellow chargers. Cheers fellow brothers and sisters! Heres a little movie I made from the trip. Enjoy!

Yuba Gap

2011-11-05T06:49:00.000-07:00

Just when you, or some other people, think the California Class V whitewater boat riding season is over, a little stretch of river receives just the right amount of water thanks to some dam maintenance. The stretch we're talking about here is known in kayaking circles as the legendary Yuba Gap run. Few attempts, fabled with epic accounts of carnage, charging, burl, swirl, and the gang, gives way to a sense of adventure when putting on this gem. Luckily for me, I live in close proximity to the mighty South Yuba river, which locals regard as the Center of the Universe. Unfortunately, the Lang Crossing gauge that measures the flow in the Yuba Gap was on the fritz, further leading to the speculation that it was indeed running. On a hunch, from seeing the HWY 49 gauge reading around 420 CFS, I drove to the put-in for a reality check of the good kind. Indeed, the river was running what looked like an optimal 350CFS. Game on! We rendezvoused at the put-in for some rockstar shuttle action. Meeting Taylor Robertson enabled us with a shuttle driver, his lovely wife Jen. Time to Charge! This run is full throttle right out of the gates. Over the course of the next four days, I encountered many burl-swirls that tested my might. I persevered of course. The slide that measures time, aka hourglass, took a toll on me my final run, but it won't hinder my high view of this run. Running it four days in row enabled me to dial the countless rapids in there, giving me a new found love and confidence in this demanding stretch. I captured some stellar eye candy whilst traveling through this beautiful canyon. I made a short movie with some of my buddies. Chargers include Justin Patt, Taylor Robertson, Thomas Moore, Jim Addington, Sean Manchester, Middy, Chris Tulley, David Maurier, Jared Noceti, Rok Sribar, and the elusive Taylor Cavin. Cheers!

First Descents

2011-09-14T14:04:00.000-07:00

Waterfalls have always been one of the most cherished moments that water rushes towards a new destination. It is a moment where the molecules gain speed as gravity takes hold more easily without solid rock beneath. When riding these water molecules in a kayak, we often feel connected to a greater source. A source that every living thing on Earth is so intrinsically dependent upon.

In the winter of 2011; Cody Howard, Darin Mcquoid, and myself began exploring never-before-run waterfalls in the Gold Country area of California. Justin Patt, local class V kayaker extraordinaire, gave us hints of a 50 foot waterfall very close to my new home of Nevada City. He was led to this drop through a very resourceful website called WaterfallsWest.com. Through further research of this website, we found 2 more waterfalls close by; on a small, low-elevation stream called Dry Creek.

The rains began to pour, our hearts began to thump, and we knew the time had come to check out these waterfalls with ample flow. Dry creek was first on the list because it has a very small watershed that rarely receives enough precipitation to make the stream 'runnable'. This day, however, the creek wasn't so dry. So, we began hiking 2 miles up through cow pastures to see what the creek had to offer. Cody's fiance, Brandi Suppi, and dog, Timber, joined us in dodging countless, fresh, steaming, cow patties. We arrived at the falls to see an amber colored torrent cascading down not one, but two magnificent waterfalls.

The first falls was very intimidating with a raging curler protecting the lip of this spatula-shaped 60 footer. None of us were feeling fired up enough to tackle this animal. Therefore, we proceeded a short distance down to the second falls. Now this falls looked very similar to a frequently-run waterfall on the Little White Salmon called Spirit Falls. Having run Spirit Falls, and many other waterfalls in the 30 foot range, I felt confident that I could run the falls successfully. After discussing the line with my Cody and Darin, the decision was made for me to claim the first descent of this falls.

I readied myself, as I normally do for a very consequential rapid, with visualization and breathing techniques. Upon entering my custom outfitted Jefe Grande with a 4 inch foam seat and completely foam bulkhead, the realization began to sink in of the magnitude of the act, in which I was about to carry out. Splashing the cold, amber-colored, water on my face helped calm my nerves as I ferried over to the river left eddy directly above the drop. I motioned to Cody up on the bank that I was fully-charged and ready to go. Left strokes from my Werner Shogun propelled me into the main current where I immediately felt the power of the creek. I continued to take left strokes as the flow was pushing me hard left. Even though I was further left than I wanted to be, I knew that I was committed, and continued to charge with all my might as I began to feel the water fall out from under me.

The time between the lip and landing of a waterfall are spiritual moments for me. All thoughts simply vanish. My body begins moving in ways that are controlled by years of experience kayaking. And when I finally land, its almost as if I have woken up from a dream. In this case, it was a very frightening dream! Instead of using the rolling lip to take a boof-stroke and control my angle of descent, the lip literally fell out from under me. Leaving me with no place for a stroke, I fell almost completely flat onto a slightly submerged rock.

Lady luck was on my side this time as I received nothing more than a severe jarring. I wasn't stoked on my line, but I was very pleased to have run the drop without serious injury. I'm pretty certain that my supremely, cushioned, foam-seat saved me great pain on this, and many other, occasions. As we always do, we celebrated with high fives after a successful first descent of a 30 foot waterfall in close proximity to our homes.

Darin felt confident that he too could paddle the drop successfully; and so, he began his way of preparing for a serious waterfall. I set up safety and media on river left below the drop. Darin charged off the lip with great speed, but he too got pushed further left than planned. Nevertheless, he paddled away from the turbulent base of the falls all in tact and grinning from ear to ear. He also noted contact with some sort of brunt object upon landing.

After hearing that both Darin and I had felt rock on our left side, Cody was very motivated to charge the drop with plenty of right angle. He did so with typical Cody style, and beautifully boofed the drop in the center with a nice 45 degree angle of descent. If I remember correctly, he didn't touch a single rock in his landing, and motivated me to make a second attempt.

Once again, I prepared myself for a burly rapid, and ferried over to the very swirly eddy on river left. This time, I charged super-hard for the river right bank, and as I expected, was pushed left into the center of the lip. I took a nice look at the boiling landing while pulling a glorious stroke that propelled me into a sweet angle of free-fall. Moments of no-thought proceeded and I awoke at the base of the falls with an extreme feeling of satisfaction. A good line to finish off a spectacular day.

Cody, Darin, and I decided to continue paddling downstream instead of hiking back down through the cow fields. Brandi and Timber, on the other hand, possessed no floating devices; and thus, began to hike back towards the cars. Not to our surprise, we found much debris-infested class II rapids downstream of the falls. At one point, I tried to roll under a log across the river, which is never a good idea I might add. This resulted in a mellow wet exit, where I didn't really get wet since I was in my Kokatat dry-suit.

We finally arrived at the cars, still in high spirits after completing such a sweet first descent. We began to undress and wonder when Brandi and Timber would show up. After popping a few frosty beverages and watching the light quickly fade, we began to get concerned for Brandi and Timber. Our worry didn't last long as we saw Brandi come angrily tromping across the yellow bridge. We hadn't taken much note of the sign on the bridge which said not to enter the fields during a certain time of year. That certain time of year signified the mating season of the bovine breed.

With big eyes, shortness of breath, and heart racing; Brandi re-counted the story of a massive bull chasing her and Timber down. She wasn't stoked to say the least. Especially at the fact that Timber didn't show the slightest sign of bravery in the matter. She said that Timber was actually out-running her. So, if you are interested in checking out Dry Creek falls, beware of the angry cows. They will give you a run for your money. Brandi also noted that her astrological sign is Taurus. So that might have had something to do with it too.

One waterfall down, two to go. The next band of storms inspired me to go check out South Deer Creek falls, which Justin Patt had been raving about since I moved to town. The drop isn't far from the town of Nevada City, but if you don't know where you're going, its easy to get lost. The roads leading back in there are very reminiscent of the logging roads leading to Big Kimshew. I went there solo the first time, and after trudging through at least 1 foot of snow for an hour or so, I found the falls. Justin wasn't lying when he said it was very sick yet runnable. I didn't spend long out in the miserable cold rain/snow that blessed the Sierras much of 2011.

Another huge storm came barreling into northern California that got Cody and I out of the house and into the woods looking at South Deer Falls, which from now on I will abbreviate as SDF. This time, the falls were on the high side of high. But it whet, mine and Cody's appetite more than any other drop we had looked at so far. We walked away with thoughts of another drop that we knew would be better with less water.

It continued to rain throughout the night, further instilling the image of a massive curling beast into my mind as I tried to sleep in the loft of my little cabin. Cody called me early in the morning with a report that Dry Creek was going to be higher than our previous trip, and that there was a crew of people forming to go check it out. I loaded up and headed into town with high hopes of running the upper Dry Creek falls. I carpooled with Cody from Grass Valley to the staging area near Beale Air Force base.

Once there, we met Darin Mcqouid, Jason Craig, Taylor Cavin, Robby Hogg, and Gareth Tate. A fine crew of Chargers if I may say so myself. We geared up and began the hike promptly. I led the charge, as I was anxious to see the falls again. Walking through the cow pastures, the sounds of the beasts become louder and louder. Yes, the waterfalls and cows. Both can be terrifying in their own sense. After gaining permission from the cows to check the falls, I was greeted by the curling beast. There are multiple names for this falls, one being Fairy Falls, but I tend to not like 'labels'. So, we will just let it be as is.

Everyone was pretty impressed with the drop, and no one seemed fired up to run it. Darin ferried across the river above the drop. He came back with an even more certain decision not to run it. I, however, was not convinced, and ferried over there myself. Standing from a different viewpoint than I had ever seen, enabled to see the waterfall in a different light. The chaos of whitewater tumulting down the lip actually looked appealing to me, and I decided to run it. I threw my paddle off the waterfall into the pool below to Jason Craig. Hand-paddles would be my weapon of choice for this encounter.

This would be the largest drop I had ever run, and it was a first descent on something that many other elite kayakers wanted no part of. My adrenaline was pumping, but I felt confident that I could make the move. I also felt confident in the crew, should my attempt turn sour, and force some sort of physical damage. After visualizing my line many times, I got in my ultra-light, super-padded, kayak. Splashed some water in my face, put my hand-paddles on, and after a few last-minute prayers, I entered the raging river.

Approaching the lip, I felt extremely confident, guiding my kayak exactly where I wanted to be, far right. I tried not to give any attention to Robby manning a GoPro camera, and focused with all my heart and mind. As I started to fall, I literally Charged into the overhead curler with the intentions of punching through it. Not much can be remembered in those brief moments between the lip and landing, but I remember getting slammed to the deck of my boat, and feeling myself floating in the pool upside down. I knew immediately I was alright and rolled up. The energy was flowing through me like a conductor to a nuclear plant.

Stellar photo by Darin Mcquoid.

Cheers and high fives ensued. Quickly, after discussing to everyone I was fine, even though they heard a loud noise once I disappeared behind the curtain, we began contemplating the lower falls. Its amazing how energy spreads. I could sense that everyone was fired up just from watching me run the upper falls. Taylor quickly decided to run the lower falls. He gave it a good go, but came back with tales of a rocky landing, as we already knew. I can't remember exactly how it went down.

I just remember talking to Jason before he entered the pool above the drop. I felt slightly inclined to give him beta on the current pushing hard left at the lip, which is where you don't want to get pushed. But, I felt that Darin had probably given him enough advice and that he didn't need anymore. Jason Charged the lip confidently, but got pushed left. He landed on the slightly submerged rock directly under his butt, and immediately swam out of his kayak. The blood curtailing scream he let out gave us all the indicator that something definitely wasn't right.

Taylor was first on the scene, and pulled Jason out of the water, as he wasn't capable himself. We all made our way across the walled in min-gorge that exists at the base of the falls. Gareth Tate, a Winderness Medicine Instructor, began diagnosing Jason's injuries. Unfortunately, Jason also forgot to close the relief zipper on his Kokatat dry-suit. Creating a fish-tank of cold river water in his pants. We cut the booties and drained the water, but he was still shivering to the point of hypothermia. We all began removing what warm layers we had to create a blanket to try and keep him warm.

Cody Howard hit his SPOT device, notifying local emergency medical crews of our need. A helicopter began circling above, but couldn't land due to bad weather and lack of landing spots. Finally, rescue crews arrived on the opposite side of the river, and we ferried a body board to where Jason was. We very carefully placed Jason on the body board and began slowly Z-dragging him up the canyon wall. It was a very tense situation, as every movement was inflicting excruciating pain on Jason.

Nonetheless, Jason was handling it like a weathered old navy seal or something. Pretending that the pain wasn't affecting too much, he quickly agreed to the idea of using a boogie-board to ferry him across to the rescue team. Darin lied on top of Jason on the boogie-board to ensure he wouldn't flip in the turbulent current. Sure enough, the current tried to flip them, and Darin used his playboatinng training to lean downstream and keep them upright. Not more than 5 seconds after getting Jason across the river to the rescue team, darkness ensued. We couldn't have made it any closer to the line.

Jason was taken to the Marysville hospital where it was confirmed that his Spleen had been shattered and separated his legs from his hips. Nerve damage was also done, but the doctors said we did a fantastic job of keeping his body stable during the evacuation. A tragic incident for sure, but it looks like Jason is going to have a great recovery, and he is already kayaking again as I write this more that 6 months since it happened. Just a prime example of the danger involved with running large-marginale waterfalls. Much respect goes to Jason and his family for keeping a positive outlook during these troubling times.

Cody put up a sweet video from the days. Its on HuckinHuge.com You will have to find it there. Its under Cali First D's.

Until next time, keep the Charge alive!

Lifestylin'

2011-08-08T16:37:00.001-07:00

When living the life, try to do so with style. Its not always that we find ourselves deep in a gorge running the shizznizzle with the mob, but that doesn't mean you can't always have a good time. So when you find yourself somewhere besides the kayakers church, try to have fun. Don't worry, there are some kayaking pics in here too, but they are of my local gem the South Yuba, which I believe is one of the best rivers in the state.

The boys from the SE enjoying a fine Charge down the Edwards to Purdons section of the S Yuba. We did a lil' lifstylin' in there too.

King Charles throwing down in the put-in hole for E to P at around 3,000 CFS. Manboating at its best.

We saw some cool catarafters enjoying the aqua also.

We went to majestic Lake Tahoe on the 4th of July to celebrate our Independence. Tequila chugging ensued thanks to the Kiwis.

Cody Howard and Brandi Suppi enjoying the Life in lake Tahoe. These two are pure gold.

New Zealand versus America. Brandi seems to be enjoying the entertainment. I'm glad I have the date feature of my camera figured out so you know this was really taken on July 4th...

Loves Falls master Mike Peacher staring down a beast we would walk away from due to high flow. Peacher is the only guy I know who has run Loves over ten times without swimming out of the Love Shack. Hes legit.

A wicked moth who has evolved to look like a big predator. He wasn't fooling me.

Lil' A seal launching in after the only one we portaged on Summit.

The man, Tommy Hilleke, charging a massive boof off East meets West rapid on Summit run of the S Yuba. Hes a father and badass at the same time.

I think one of the main reasons I'm so partial to the S Yuba is its lack of portages. With the exception of the Yuba Gap, which has its fair share, but still worthy in every sense.

Keep on styling!

Big Kimshew

2011-08-08T16:09:00.000-07:00

Yo,

First off, Big Kimshew creek is an amazing stretch of high-quality whitewater. Therefore, word quickly spreads, and more and more people show up to Charge this piece every year. For good reason. I think our crew this year consisted of about 11 burl-chargers. A mob to say the least. They left me at one point. I actually moved close to the put-in for a brief stint while the creek was running, but quickly realized there ain't much up there besides old Kimshizzle. I moved on.

I'm gonna try to write little, and post pictures alot from now on. Mainly because pictures are much more entertaining than my writing. Pictures are quite a bit easier to take and post too. With that said, enjoy these pics and I will try to keep them coming.

Heres Barny "the Blessing" Young boofing the dogg poo out of the tricky first 20'er. Ole Snarly is looking on in the foreground. I will tell him to move next time. This was the first time I actually ran this drop clean.

A good ole' SE transplant smiling big after a sweet un-named slide above Triple Drop. Her name is Adrien Levkenctch (SP?)... she killed it out there with the boys.

Nick Murphy relaxing below Frenchies 40. My boat got tired of waiting on me to film the mob, and decided to run the drop w/o me. I pulled her back up with the help of Sean "man-cheese" Manchester. It was a good decision to run it.

Another Boonanison checking out the Cali goods on a lil' road trip. Eric Chance plugs his Pure XL into the last drop on Kimshew proper. Never fear, for Secret Stash is about to appear.

Mancheese isn't addicted to crack, but when in Rome...

Barny mobbing into a nice rapid on the Stash. I usually portage this one, but we all found it surprisingly manageable.

The legend, Jason Hale, bout to give a hole some loving.

King "Snarly" Charlie probing the last big one on the West "is best" Branch of the Feather.

A good time we had indeed. Can't wait til' next year. I think we all agreed that the section from Kimshew Falls down could be the best whitewater in the world. Let me know if you concur.

Late

Raven Fork

2011-03-23T16:15:00.000-07:00

The Green Race inspires confidence within all the racers that participate. Unfortunately, the weather doesn’t always enable us to use this boost in confidence. However, it did finally rain again in the SE, and got all of us kayakers into a fluster as to what will run and when. I had been chilling in Asheville at the Dirtbaggers Inc. hostel, aka Lee, Murph, and Stone’s house, enjoying the daily routine of going to paddle the Green. It didn’t run a few days, and actually, went out skateboarding and golfing with the hostel owners, which was quite fun. Nevertheless, it rained a little, and I began weighing my options on what I thought would be the best option for the day. As they often do, the Smokies took the brunt of the rain, and there was word that the West Prong was running. I rendezvoused with Dustin Marquart over at his house and began debating on what the Raven Fork was doing, using the Oconoluftee gauge and Newfound gap rain gauge. The Ocono was at around 700 and not really rising or falling, but the Newfound Gap gauge was showing an increase.

The decision wasn’t very promising, but we took off toward Cherokee with the best of intentions to paddle the Raven Fork. Once in Cherokee, the first sight of the Ocono in town was neither discouraging nor encouraging, as it is difficult to judge how much water is in the wide, shallow, stream-bed. Thus, we continued on to Emmanuel’s house, and were pleasantly surprised to find the Raven stick-gauge to be reading 7 inches. It was on! Having just one 2wd car, we thought driving straight to the put-in road would save us some precious time, as it was already past noon. We soon found out that the put-in road was under construction, and got trapped between two massive excavators moving rocks. We aborted that mission and went to Emmanuel’s house. Emmanuel informed us that we could use the rough road and just park at the bottom, as he was certain nobody would be using it.

It was raining, and made the hike more pleasurable than normal, knowing that the river was coming up, not down. Once at the river, we quickly scouted Anaconda for wood, as we had heard from previous groups that there was new wood in Mortal Kombat and Caveman. The snake was free of wood, but still very intimidating. As usual, Dustin was quick to charge the first big rapid of the day. I followed suit, and we began bombing at will. It is nice to get on a river with a good friend where you both know the lines well, and you can just give the nod and go.

In no time, we were standing on the perfectly placed boulder overlooking the lip of Big Boy. Dustin immediately declared he wanted to run it, and I agreed to set safety first. Once in the pool below, I patently waited to see Dustin come charging down the face of the beast. In typical Dustin fashion, he styled through the curler and landed in the nice soft pillow below at a perfect 45 degree angle. His line was confidence inspiring for sure. I hiked back up to my boat, and began to mentally preparing myself for the drop. This would be my second run of the waterfall, and I had a different line in mind than my first. I allowed myself to drift towards the right side of the epic hallway that leads to the lip, and then turned my bow back to the left and began sliding down the slab on the right side. I waited until the very brink of the slide to take my stroke and it worked like a charm, sending me left into the pillow at a nice 45 degree angle also. We were both stoked to be all good after running such an amazing waterfall. We took our round with the Champ, and then portaged the first few drops of caveman because of a new strainer. The bottom boof was still open for business, and we took full advantage of laying her down like an F-16 on an aircraft carrier. Never forget though, the mangler lies waiting downstream for those still hungry for more, or just accidentally miss the last eddy before dropping into the maw. It’s always refreshing to reach Emmanuel’s house after a great run, to take a few pulls of strong water and warm up by the fire. What an amazing place to go kayaking in the magical smoky mountains.

There’s a reason why the Raven Fork is rated Number 1 in Tommy’s Top Ten Creeks of Western North Caroina. Therefore, I showed up early at Emanuel’s house the next day, in hopes of finding other Chargers looking to route before she dropped out. I waited for a while, easily killing time, swinging on the front porch with The Man, listening to timeless stories I hope to hear for many more years to come. Mark Taylor showed up with a gift for The Man, as always appreciated. Soon followed by some Team Jib home-boys; Taft Sibley, John Trimbley, and Nathan McDade, looking to get their Charge on this glorious November day. To my surprise, Charles Armentrout, whose nickname will be mentioned later, rolled into the driveway in his 2wd Tacoma. We loaded up, and I made a clutch decision to bring my big, yellow, tow-strap. Sure enough, the tow-strap enabled us to pull the Tacoma up the steep section of the muddy road with Mark’s sweet 4wd Isuzu Trooper. Not having to hike that extra bit of road makes the experience so much sweeter. After a quick pre-hike safety meeting, we were hoofing through some of the most beautiful woods in the world.

Second run, just as scary, and just as fun. Everybody made it to the river, and we began unraveling our mind from Anaconda. Taft had to execute a little snake charming to keep himself sea-worthy, as to be expected from at least someone in a group of six. This trip was to be a different sort of trip than the previous day with Dustin. It was Charles and Trembley’s first time down the mighty Raven Fork, and I was going to make certain that it was a good one. I like to give minimal beta, meaning I focus on where you need to go, and briefly go over the hazards. I like to think solely on where I want to go, not where I don’t want to go. Thus, rapid names like Right Right are great because they express beta.

As mentioned before, it’s always amazing how quick you get to the Big Boy. After a quick scout, I was somewhat surprised, yet also relieved to hear the boys asking me if I was going to fire it up first. I guess I have gotten to a point in my kayaking where I feel pretty comfortable running big drops without safety. Now, other people realize I am comfortable with it too. Once again, I found myself mentally preparing myself for the Big Boy, quietly reciting the Vajra Guru mantra I learned while studying at my Tibetan Buddhist institute. The mantra helps me focus on my breath and connect with the three main shakras of the body. It must have worked because once again I found myself peacefully floating through the hallway to another portal of experience, where thoughts take a back seat to instinct. I resurfaced in the eddy to look up and see none other than the elusive double rainbow! I didn’t know what it meant, but I motioned for the boys to fire it up; so that, they too may catch a glimpse of this rare, natural, occurrence.

On par with most spectacular rainbows, it didn’t last long enough for the following chargers to enjoy the grandeur. It didn’t matter though; they were stoked enough from running the waterfall cleanly. Props go out to my insanely good squirt boating buddies, Taft and Trembley for boofing the dog poop out of it their first run on Big Boy. Mark Taylor also had a stellar line, which is featured along with other great footage from the day, in his Raven Fork movie at the bottom of this page. We routed Mike Tyson and re-united with Charles and Nathan at the bottom. Unfortunately, the wood in the entrance to Caveman hadn’t miraculously moved on its own from the day before. So, we portaged the first two drops of caveman, to (in the words of the legendary blogger/kayaker Evan Garcia) ‘lay treats’ on the final boof. Not everyone ‘laid treats’ per say, and I was lucky enough to save a few wary boofers from taking a lesson with the Caveman.

Onward we moved to the proud beat of some satisfied chargers. Once at the Mangler portage, we began casually joking and discussing the various lines of the day. I let my guard down for a brief instant while performing a rock climbing maneuver, which we kayakers aren’t so accustomed to. This resulted in a wicked fall that ripped my shoulder upwards in a fashion that did some damage, but luckily, nothing too serious to paddle out. To all you up and coming Raven Forkers, or even veterans, be careful while portaging. Rocks are hard, especially when not at least somewhat covered by water. I hear that 90% of river injuries occur while portaging. On that note, if you see the line, and feel confident in making it, don’t let anything stop you from making it happen. At the same time though, there is no shame in portaging. Just be careful and aware while out there in gutters of the earth. They are amazing places. Dear Raven Fork, stay primed for all the chargers out there. We greatly appreciate every second spent in there.

Here are a video Mark Taylor made from my 2nd day on the Raven. Cheers.

Raven Fork from Mark Taylor on Vimeo.

Cali Crunch Time

2011-03-21T13:53:00.000-07:00

Bear River Falls, California

Change is the only thing that is constant. With that I mind, I strive to continue changing for the better, and embrace change to work for my advantage. Rivers, mountains, people, economies, islands, boats, mind-sets; all of this things are constantly changing. Its pretty exciting to think about what the future may hold because we don't really know. If we knew what was in store for the future, then it wouldn't be so intriguing. As a kayaker, I am able to explore places that I couldn't otherwise without my boat, paddle, and skills. These places often shake the core of me, which I try to hold as being the constant of my existence. The rapids force me to decide whether I am mentally, physically, and spiritually ready to encounter something that could possibly change my life forever. And they often do. I believe that, just as a river, we cannot hold a certain level of paddling. We are either progressing or regressing. There can be no other. In my own opinion of course.

As of late, I have been pushing myself to progress as a kayaker. Moving to Nevada City, California has put me in a position to paddle amazing whitewater almost every single day of the year. While most of the stretches of river in the area have been run in the past. We have begun exploring places that no other kayaker has gone before. Luckily, there is a great crew of paddlers in the area who are motivated to seek out and test these virgin waters with me.

Back sometime this February, when it hadn't rained in weeks and the rivers were beginning to dry up; Cody Howard, Cory Tucker, and myself were going to paddle the Bear River near Colfax. Seeing as this was the only thing running in the area, thanks to a dam. We were just stoked to get back in our kayaks, even though the flow was low and the stretch is short. Then while gearing up for the run, a pivotal moment in my life happened. Cody said that Robby Hogg had mentioned a 20' waterfall above the normal put-in, and the spark was ignited. Despite some speculation as to whether the falls existed or not, we hiked up to find out the truth for ourselves. After a short hike up the river, I was greeted by a grand sight of spillway to waterfall after waterfall. It is beautiful there to say the least. The sun was shining and the falls looked totally charge-able. Not knowing whether anybody had run these falls before, I was stoked on the thought of a first descent. I ferried across the pool, and gave the landing zone a quick scout before making the short and easy climb to the top of the falls. I looked back to the trail to see Cody and Cory wide-eyed and grinning at the sight of these cascading beauties. Cody signaled for a Ro-Sham-Bo match to decide who would get to run the falls first. But I was already at the staging pool, and he was still on the other side of the river. I opted out of the Ro-Sham-Bo, and quickly got in my new, custom-outfitted, Jefe Grande. A small side slot led to the lip of the falls perfectly, and before I knew it, I was sending a huge boof off a sweet 20' falls. I didn't stomp as much as I would have liked to, but the impact was still fairly soft. I motioned to the boys that it is good-to-go and the huck-fest began. Heres Cory Tucker having a nice line.

All of us proceeded to rally off this drop multiple times the first day, and none of us received the same results twice. In other words, its a tricky lip that will give you various lines depending on how you run it. What more could you ask for? Well, it just so happens that a larger, less-runnable, drop lies just upstream of previous said falls. After the first day of hucking Bear River falls, I receded back to my off-the-grid cabin up in the woods with hopes and dreams of running the upper falls. A couple of days later, we were back at the falls, and I was seriously contemplating the upper falls. With much debate as to how and where to run it, I chose my line and decided that hand-paddles would be a good choice for this technical, low-volume, 25'er. The hand paddles enabled me to lift and scoot myself into position out of the small, precariously located, eddy at the lip. There I was, changing what I thought was possible for me to run in my kayak, with hand-paddles that I have very little experience with. A few quick strokes and I was sliding down the slab into a free-fall that gives you a moment in time where no thoughts exist. I entered the pool at a nice vertical angle, but the landing zone wasn't very aerated, resulting in a pretty massive hit, that even ripped one of the hand-paddles off. Not to worry, my body was fine, and rolling with one hand-paddle is easier than with none at all. Success, and a great feeling of accomplishment overwhelmed me as I cheered in celebration with Cory, who was standing at the base of the falls shooting photos and setting safety. Also of note that day, a buddy from Auburn named Alex Conheim, charged a RiverBug off the lower falls. If you aren't familiar with a RiverBug, here is a shot of him falling off the lip. Good times there for sure!

Turns out, that the lower Bear Falls was first run by some guys in inner tubes; so, congrats to them. I do believe I am the only person to have run the upper falls. Not that it really matters. What matters, is that I continue to change as a kayaker/person, and keep exploring new rivers and waterfalls. I hope we all will continue to explore and find what it is in life that makes us feel alive and special. This is just one of the many stories I have from the past few months. I plan to record them all here, for my writing pleasure, and (hopefully) your reading pleasure, as I see this as a useful tool for a number of different reasons. Hope you are Charging whatever it is you love to do. Until next time, Charge On! Cody Howard of HuckinHuge.com made a sweet video from these days. Check it out towards the bottom.

Auburn Goods from Huckin Huge on Vimeo.

Green Race 2010

2010-11-08T21:23:00.000-08:00

What a scene. Photo by Shane Benedict.

One must love thyself before one can ever try to love anyone else. This may sound selfish; but if, we are not happy and loving within ourselves, how can one ever imagine to inspire the same within another? With that said, I try to do what makes me the most happy. Happiness doesn't come for free. Whether you're a master of the custodial arts, working to pay off your Buick Regal; or a kayaker, stroking through endless flat-water to sculpt that wicked 6 pack for the Given'er Race. Work is a necessary step in the stairway to heaven we are all climbing up.

Will Pruett about to Sting the Gorilla. Photo by Shane Benedict.

I don't know if every kayaker wants to race the Green, but it sure seems like they should. I'm not a big fan of competition, and find it hard to push myself in hopes of beating a fellow burl-charger. However, I believe, or should I say embrace, the idea that we are all out there to have fun and cheer on each and one another, as we push our physical limits on a stretch of river that is not only beautiful and fun, but also difficult and demanding.

Curt 'Bag' Lamberth getting stylish in Go Left. Photo by Robert Haigh

People travel from all over the world to experience the grandeur, excitement, and fun that ensues from kayakers, spectators, and gorillas giving themselves away to a greater sense of oneness that develops from the Green Race. We are all out there to have fun, and in this unifying connection, a great sense of awareness and dare-ness develops that leads to something that is hard to put into words.

Drew Duval getting angry with the Squirrel. Photo by Lee Timmons.

Immersing oneself in the river, we usually feel free and disconnected from the daily external stresses that occur in modern life. The Green Race, on the other hand, actually combines the freedom of paddling with the stress of work and society. You are not only trying to have fun and make it down the river; but also, go fast, stay focused, and avoid eating a stone. Its ironic, how giving away your freedom to go at whatever pace you please, and forcing yourself to go as hard as you can, actually feels refreshing-- especially after you finish the race!

Taft enjoying the Hungee. Copyright Chris Bell/boatingbeta.com. Used with permission.

I can't imagine a better way to see old friends, meet new ones, charge some righteous swirls, drink some white lightning, and party like its 1999. I hope to make it back for this event of epic proportions every year. It makes me, and what seems like, a thousand other people, really happy; and that, my friends, is what counts in life! This is all I know, and knowing is half the battle.

Nick Murphy and I enjoying a few post-boating-refreshments. Photo by Shane Benedict

Thanks to all the great people who make this race happen, and a special thanks to Charles Armentrout for loaning me his Stinger. Until next time, Charge On!

Here is a little post-race Shine action my buddy Gareth Tate documented.

Everybody Shines from 7 Finger media on Vimeo.

Middle Kings

2010-08-05T22:12:00.000-07:00

Greetings fellow Sentient Beings!

The Middle Fork of the Kings river in California is like an old wooden ship, which I believe defines diversity. If you give her respect, proper permission, effort, attention, and admiration; she will reward you with the greatest ride of your life. However, if you neglect these simple principals, she will leave you cold, wet, hungry, hurt, and stranded for Bears to come along and eat your heart out. She is guarded by the towering snowy peaks of the Sierras; so that, one must be strong, willing, and motivated just to catch a glimpse of her majesty. If you so desire to ride her emerald green maelstrom of swirls, waterfalls, and rare pools, come prepared to do battle with yourself, possibly your friends, and most certainly some challenging whitewater!

What I love about the Middle Kings expedition is its diversity of trials and tribulations you must go through to complete such an epic journey. The trip begins as you use a modern chariot to transport yourself 300 miles across the Sierra Nevada's to Bishop, CA. Drew whipped all 200 or so nimble and fast Subaru horses into action, and we enjoyed the scenic drive through magnificent Yosemite NP. Once at Base Camp, Bishop, be sure to stop by the Ranger station, and speak with an old man at first, but then realize, sooner than later, that he is losing his wits, and must be traded for a much more agile young female ranger, who will give you a free permit to legally gain residency in the Kings castle. Find a local market, and obtain foods that are light, never up tight, and out of sight; as you will need plenty of caloric energy to replenish your weary muscles after long days of battle. You should attempt to rig up some sort of kayak carrying device, but really hope and pray that a wise man will come along and show you the way up and over the 12,000' high Bishop Pass. Drew brought his rather pleasant lady friend Karen and her friend Mary Jane as witnesses to the grandeur in which one must work through to reach the headwaters of the Middle King. They began their ascent earlier than I, and thankfully, Jason Hale, my wise man, celebrated the beginning of our hike with a cold Budweiser.

The celebration was short-lived, as my so-called kayak backpack rapidly inflicted gross amounts of pain upon my feeble mind and body. After making up to 10 vain attempts to correct the system, the sun was fading quickly in the distance, and I hadn't made much progress. Therefore, I decided to abandon my ship and give word to Mr. Hale that I wouldn't be continuing into The Canyon. Luckily, my wise man, wouldn't take no for an answer and helped fix my spirits, backpack, and energy levels. With a fresh breath of air under my sail, I took off in pursuit of Drew and the ladies. Standing at the base of Bishop Pass is one of the many intimidating sights one sees on the trip; however, with our life-giving sun retiring to the west, our motivation to push on into the cold unknown of the alpine night was lacking. Therefore, the wise Jason suggested we camp below the Pass and get an early start the following day. I concurred, and we set up camp for the night while enjoying a night under our lunar lad. Of course, we didn't wake-up near as early as hoped, but made quick time of the arduous Bishop Pass summit, and re-united with Drew and the crew near Dusy Basin. Trust me, if you've made it this far, don't think its over with, because going down is just as hard as going up with a 100lb turtle shell on your back.

When you finally arrive in Le Conte Canyon where you catch your first sight of his majesty, your muscles are screaming at you to stop, but your mind is telling you to reap the rewards of your hiking, and ride the liquid that will take you through a granite wonderland. Our friend Nathan Klema showed up with a crew of Colorado chargers ready to pilot their crafts down the mighty Middle Kings. After a brief discussion, it was realized that Nate and the crew hadn't spoken with the young lady ranger, and were lacking an important piece of paper. Never fear, the beauty of kayaking is freedom, and with that freedom, we are able to go places where other non-equipped people can't go. So, they took off downstream to reap the rewards of their effort, and we shortly followed suit. Feeling beat down from the energy sapping hike, we didn't venture too far into the Canyon before finding a sweet piece of Granite slab to call home for the night.

The next day, our CO companions started off the Charge by routing through our camp rapid while we were still cooking breakfast on the fire. I was able to document their swift and courageous paddle strokes, which gave them smooth rides down the tight pinch drop into a nice Disney-esque slide. Stoked on life, we geared up and immersed ourselves in the cold flow of the river-- something that feels so natural to me. Soon, we were eddied out scouting the 7 Rivers Expedition cover shot rapid, which the CO boys fittingly called Squeeze Play. Drew and Hale fired into the 4 foot wide slot that the river comes tumulting through and over a 15' drop. I decided to give Drew the documenting device for once, and he captured me Charging though an amazing gateway to the soul. As we expected, our group of 3, that had all experienced the Kings before, caught the 5 Kings virgin Coloradoans, and respectfully played on through.

At one of our breaks, Drew mentioned to me that if I wanted to be a great filmmaker like Daniel DeLavergne, R.I.P, I was going to have to start running rapids first and blind. His advice took hold, and I proceeded to Charge into the Money Drop and so on to capture Drew and the Wise Man in battle. Giving my Full Throttle attention to His Majesty, I was able to successfully navigate through the Devils Washbowl's, which contains many powerful slides, swirls, and stones. Our energy levels were off the Richter, and soon I found myself in the lead again bombing into rapids I couldn't remember. I tried to catch a weak swirl, but the river swept me away and I was forced to look down the barrel of a big burly rapid and giver her what I had, which was barely enough for the toll, but the Wise Man wasn't so fortunate.

I embraced a large stone in the middle of the river after said rapid, and I felt something dislodge me from behind. Jason had followed my irresponsible lead, and as he resurfaced from the drop, his eye made significant contact with the gear laden stern of my boat. The meeting was too abrupt, and forced separation of the skin above the Wise Man's right eyebrow. Hale enthusiastically informed me that my insane bombing techniques aren't exactly 'safe' for the team. A Wise Man is always prepared, and Hale is no exception, which is one of the many awesome reasons I enjoy kayaking with him. He used his Iphone to take a picture of his wound, and being a nurse, diagnosed the cut and guided Drew to repair the damage with his superior med-kit. I took a much needed safety break, and agreed to run sweep to avoid further mad bombing carnage.

Soon, we approached what Taylor Cavin has so eloquently dubbed Raw Dogg Falls gorge, which beholds a magnificent 30' waterfall. Unfortunately, Drew's boat didn't want to scout, and took off downstream without its skilled pilot. I jumped in after it, but had to abort the rescue due to the proximity of another rapid. We took off running downstream after the red beast, and caught a glimpse of it Charging over the 30'er. Drew and Hale decided to probe the nooks and crags close to where the incident happened, where as, I began running down the well established trail praying to see red at every opening. After, about a mile or so, I was rewarded with a beautiful glimpse of red plastic wedged ever-so perfectly against the right wall. I thought I was going to die running back in my super warm Kokatat dry suit, but made it back in time to stop Drew from paddling my yellow boat, which he actually owns, in search of his red boat. Hale and I put back in the river and paddled some standard Class V+ Middle Kings Burl in hot pursuit of Drew's boat.

We carabinered a throw-rope onto Drew's pinned boat and began tugging, but our strength was too much for the grab-loop, and it broke, sending the carabiner directly into Drew's shin. He was a bit disappointed to say the least. However, after Hale and I paddled some more super-scary rapids, we saw Drew re-united with his boat downstream. Come to find out though, that Drew's Watershed dry-bag was missing, containing his precious food, camera, and amenities. Luckily, his dry-bag carrying his sleeping bag and pad were still on board. Without the kayak's skilled pilot, and full of water, the boat came into severe contact with a few hefty stones. These encounters left the boat mangled on the bow and stern, but still sea-worthy.

The next day, we continued our rapid descent into the section of river that beholds the Big Bad Beaver. We could tell the river-level was definitely on the 'High Side of Good', and upon reaching the BBB, our thoughts were confirmed by a massive stream of white cascading down the perfect granite. We scouted the rapid thoroughly, and discussed possible approaches to running the beast. In the end, the Wise Man was the only one brave enough to run it, and he did so with style. His energy was rampant having completed the largest of the runnable rapids on the Kings, and it is something I want to experience someday. We thought there weren't many more significant rapids below the BBB, but we were wrong, again, as the King never seems to let you put your guard down.

Finally, we reached the sacred Tehipite Dome camp-site, and were stunned to see a non-kayaker camping at our usual spot. I quickly realized that this man, named Bob Kannen, was a Ranger, and went over to see what he was doing. As most Rangers are, he was very serious and inquisitive into our doings. We explained that our permit was in Drew's lost dry-bag, and so, he wrote down our information to confirm validity of our stay. He was very dissapointed that we didn't have a map, but we tried to explain why we don't need a map, seeing that the only way out is downstream, for us, at least. He took a picture of us, and explained that the Park Service wants to monitor our tirps in there. I guess they want to feel apart of it too. Knowing that our Colorado com-padres didn't have a permit, I hurried upstream to their camp where I informed them of Bob's presence. Once again, they used their freedom to elude a possible confrontation.

The bottom 9 miles of the Middle Kings is by far the most continuous stretch of whitewater I have ever paddled. Many of the rapids are simply too crazy too run, and so, you must expend a lot of energy carrying your kayak around and through the maze of boulders, trees, and poison oak that lines the banks. Nonetheless, this is my favorite section of river, as you are able to 'Mad Bomb' many of the sweet boulder-garden style rapids with a firm grip on your black shaft. We made amazing time through this section, having planned to paddle the lower Garlic Falls section the same day.

I was tired around noon, when we passed the confluence of the Middle and South Kings rivers, where we planned to take a break. Jason and Drew were way out ahead of me, as I was pleasantly floating along enjoying the spectacular scenery. They didn't even notice the confluence, which doubled the flow, and added a nice warmth to the river. I guess they were still in Charge-mode. Drew, having a leaky boat, got out to drain at the first big rapid of Garlic Falls, but Hale decided to fire right in without having a scout. I followed suit, and saw Jason get back-endered out of a big hole. Luckily, I also went super-deep in the hole, and back-endered my way out too, but enthusiastically motioned for Hale to pull over as I was lacking energy to continue into the next rapid.

As usual, Hale did as he pleases, and dropped over into the next rowdy pour-over hole. I looked over my shoulder from the eddy above to see Jason getting pummeled in the swirl. I quickly jumped out with my throw-rope to rescue him from further torture, but he made it out of the hole on his own accord. However, as so many paddlers have also experienced, he hit a stone just as he was attempting a desperate roll, and ended up swimming into the pool he had already floated it into. I laughed at him, seeing that he was alright, only to see Drew getting destroyed in the hole that Hale and I barely made it through. I was already set-up for rescue, but as Drew swam out of the hole upstream, he was swept over to the river-left, where if, I would have thrown him a rope, he would have been pulled into the hole Jason swam out of. Therefore, I just yelled encouragement at Drew to swim for the pool at the bottom with his gear. He wasn't too happy that I didn't throw him a rope, but I took off paddling downstream as he wasn't able reel his boat in himself.

I eventually was able to dock Drew's heavy, water-logged, kayak as he made his way downstream on foot. Drew and Hale, having just gotten beat-down, weren't feeling too 'fired up', and so, we played it conservative in the remaining burly big-water of the Garlic Falls. We were surprised to see some rafters down there, scouting a rapid with a typical big hole at the bottom. We walked around it, but one of the rafters, also named Will, Charged in there, and got worked a little bit, but came out fine. I was feeling really good at this point, having completed the majority of the rapids without getting worked. Therefore, I resumed 'Mad Bombing' many of the remaining rapids, also pulling over to let the others take the lead. I Charged into one I couldn't see, and got worked in a big swirl, but after embracing the chaos, I was let free, still connected with my boat.

We made it to the take-out sometime in the afternoon, having paddled 19 miles of epic whitewater that day, we were relieved to be off the water. My rock house worked at keeping my cooler full of PBR in the riverbed, but the water had dropped so much that it was no longer submersed. No worries though, the beer was still chill, and we toasted to victory. Cruising out in my 84' Ford Escort diesel, we weren't in luxury, but we were moving along for super-cheap at around 40mpgs with kayaks on top. The 300 mile shuttle is quite an endeavor in itself, and forced us to camp out near Tuolumne Meadows, running out of stamina to push on through the night. We made it full circle, as we were greeted by the beauty of South Lake once again, and parted ways, hoping that this wouldn't be that last time to experience the exhaustion, relief, and satisfaction that comes from finishing a Middle Fork of the Kings 'high-water' expedition.

I was able to get some pretty good footage from the trip, and made a little video using music from my friend Omega. All photos were taken by The Wise Man. Check out the video here...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ns6YjFAGAEI

Peace, Love, and :)

Southern Boys doing South Forks in Cali

2010-05-29T00:07:00.000-07:00

South Merced

I always had the impression that the South Merced is the 'easy' class V overnighter of Cali.... boy was I wrong. Drew is a big fan of the late Lars Holbek, and heard that this was Lars's favorite run. So, Drew wanted to experience it as Lars did by taking his 13' Green boat, fully loaded with air mattress, camp chair, beer, and soup. I think he went a little overboard. Johnny Kentucky was our guide, and declared it to be medium high at 900cfs on the first day, which we routed down quickly, having Drew probe many large continuous rapids in his hole-killing torpedo. In action below.

Johnny fires it up.

There are some swirls in there.

Immersed in the chaos, we feel at home.

We camped at Super Slide and went to sleep hearing the massive slide become louder and louder. The next morning we awoke to drizzly rain and high water.

An ominous feeling filled the air as we ran the first few burly rapids.

Drew hit some clutch boofs with grace in the big old barge.

Kentucky nodded and said the rapid One In a Million wasn't far downstream. I came around the river bend, seeing Drew and Johnny eddied out on the right, but realized I couldn't make the eddy. I locked and loaded as it became apparent that I was about to run One in a Million blind. The line was clear, and I charged right giving her a big old boof, landing in a turbulent swirl that launched me into the right wall. I embraced the wall and unknowingly avoided the hole. It was a spiritual moment, where I was swept away by the river, resisting any desire to back out or scout, I turned and burned. I find that I run rapids best when I feel as though I'm going into battle fighting for my life. Here is Drew eddying out below One in a Million.

This was Cali tongue just below 1 in a Mil.

Drew ran some massive rapids.

He was fired up about it too.

Kentucky ended up fighting for his life in a massive swirl, and Drew threw a touchdown pass to real Johnny in to safety above more burl. Hand paddles are better than no paddle, and KY got it done with them. Here is a video Drew edited of the footage I captured on the trip.

South Branch

Soon after that adventure into Yosemite, my good buddy Nick Muphy flew in from Chattanooga, and gained residency into the millennium falcon, aka the veggie wagon. Word from Darin arrived that the South Branch was running; so, we rallied on over to run some waterfalls with our fellow brethren. Heres Nick letting the turbo booster out on a fatty boof.

Darin decided to style 99 problems.

Jonas decided to run it switch.

Jakub Nemec was in the area, and routed off China Slide with ultra funky fresh style, like peanut butter on rye.

Jakub also made a video from the stellar day.

It was good to be on the water on a warm sunny day with good friends at a good flow.

photo by Laura Farrel

I rolled the dice and got lucky.

photo by Laura

Rodrigo from KayakPucon was there and fired it up.

Nick isn't afraid to Charge.

The perfect 50 gave me a little smack on the lip the 1st day, and so, I used some hand paddles to be safe on the next run, but still got my redemption with my paddle on the 3rd day.

photo by Darin Mcquoid

After 3 days of hiking up and out of the edge of the world, we headed up to the Silver Fork and found high water. Heres Nick charging into the first rapid on the SF.

All you can see is Nick's paddle in this giant swirl.

Dustin Marquart was in from Asheville, and stuck a nice boof off the tricky right slot.

As you can see in this pic, the river was very high, and we realized this was too much water for the 400fpm gorge downstream. Thus, we decided to make the easy and short hike out, being my first hike-out due to high water. Good decision.

Then we went back to the ever so classic South Merced for a one day descent and only got out to film the last rapid-- Fire Hydrant. Heres KY firing into it.

Nick was the only one who hadn't done the run before, and wasn't too uncomfortable routing the big burly rapids.

It was good to be back in there on a sunny day.

The weather has been crazy here in Cali the last few weeks as we have been dealing with colder temperatures and some precipitation. We hoped for the Yuba Gap last weekend, but the dam company only gave us flows too high and too low. Nonetheless, we were able to catch Golden Gate and Upper Middle Consumes thanks to the colder weather dropping the levels into a more sane range. Of course, we have been getting regular runs on the Green of California-- the South Yuba from Purdens to Bridgeport. Its the Green of CA b/c its easy to access, always running, no portages, chicks in bikinis, and great rapids. We hope to get Yuba Gap and Kimshew soon. I hope my videocamera starts working again. Until next time... Charge on!

Southern Sierra

2010-05-28T19:35:00.001-07:00

Drew, Jason Hale, and I loaded up the longboats in SF, and immediately the smack talking began about Skyhook and Brush Creek Race. Hale brought full on moto gear in preparation for running the big rapid on the East Kaweah that most people happily walk around in the poison oak-- Skyhook. First off, Hale convinced us that the new landslide in the beginning of EK was good to go, and quite fittingly dubbed it "I didn't sign up for this Shit". Here is Danny Salzaar feeling safe in the Grande on said rapid.

Dodging overhanging rocks is typical of Chattaboogie whitewater, and thus, I felt right at home boofing into a sieve of sorts. Heres Hale in his moto gear running the burl, but opted for another day to make the Hook.

Taylor F and Laura F decided they weren't into it and rappelled down the boulder with Taylor Robertson's help.

When we got down to Triple Drop, I was behind Hale and he decided to route off it... so I followed. Luckily, we styled it, and got out to film the others charging it. Heres Laura boofing.

We took a quick safety break, and we felt pretty Charged up.

The next day, we rolled on over to the South Tule with high hopes, but got shut down by the local casino... Indian Reservation Land there and we didn't want to push our luck. So, we skipped over to the upper middle Tule. The flow was low, but the rapids were smooth and steep. Heres Hale flying off one of the better rapids.

Heres a sweet shot by my good bro Darin McQuoid of me on the same rapid.

Besides the portaging, it was a really quality run IMO. Danny firing it up.

Taylor Fearrington on the next cross grainer slot boof.

Old buddies having a good time. Taylor Robertson and Hale.

I saw one that looked like a typical SE manker, and gave her. She gave me a lil' back too.

DD styling another granite smoothie.

Hale dropping the best rapid on the run. Check out the cool tavertine effect on river right.

Taylor and Danny routed into this one blind and said it was knarly... so Drew fired it up of course.

Drew is also an underwater basket weaver.

Here is our German bro Jonas Making the line.

We drove up a nice dirt road next to a sick creek and camped. This was the sight along the way.

Then we headed to Brush Creek race with the longboats and had more fun than a barrel of monkeys. We met some awesome new friends, and of course, chilled with my old friends Eric and Rebecca Giddens. Heres Eric organizing the kayakers, including 9 year old Sage, who impressively styled the race.

Heres the Champ, Jason Hale, charging to ensure the win.

photo by Frank Walden

A brave soldier going into battle.

Boogie men came out of the closet to scare kids on the banks.

The Giant Slalom proved to be quite the challenge, and even served up some carn. Hale jumped in the river to help someone out of a swirl.

It was awesome to get in the Hungee on Brush.

photo by Frank Walden

Then we went back to East Kaweah for some big ole fatty boofs. Drew lays one out.

Cody Howard joined in on the Charge-fest also.

Knarmading down the creek.

This ain't Hale's first rodeo.

Mine neither.

Justin Patt busted a wicked rail grab.

Textbook?

Its just so dogg gone pretty in there.

Wilson Bell drove straight out from Asheville to get this blessed creek. You can see why.

Justin does what he wants.

This is what we live for. Taylor made a cool headcam movie from the Tule and East Kaweah. Here it is.

Tule and E. Kaweah Rivers With Taylor Robertson from Taylor Robertson on Vimeo.

Burly-Q

2010-05-28T14:25:00.001-07:00

Water is precious, powerful, and providing. In order to fully appreciate it, one must embrace its fluid character and ever-changing nature. Sometimes, the river is high and you feel very small and humbled by its extreme power. Other times, its low and you feel more in control. Lately, the rivers have been high, and I feel humbled by it. No matter the case, the river is always there to make you confront your fears, and either overcome them, or walk around them for another day. The river is almost like a personal psychiatrist that tells you how well your mind and body are functioning together. If your mind wanders away from the present moment, then your body will follow accordingly, and you won't be able to stick the line. When worldly matters infiltrate your attention while on the river, the jedi-like focus required to run the Burly-Q sandwiches with extra swirl is lost. One must be Full Throttle warrior when kayaking, or the river will Charge you a fee for not giving your all. Its a very clear and concise relationship. Water requires respect. Respect the water, and you will reap the ultimate healing benefits from it, whether kayaking or taking a drink. I feel blessed to experience the pristine rivers of California in the Sierra Nevada mountain range. We have been charging quite hard this season, and now I want to share some photos, videos, and stories we have captured along the way.

Dinkey Creek

I would usually say this run is the best "bang for your buck" in cali, but not in this case. Trying to, as Jonas from Germany would say "make", this river early in the spring is sketchy at best due to road conditions. We rallied Stephen Wright's Sprinter van as far as we could in the snow, but didn't get very far before Stephen and Jason Craig opted out of the extra hike-in.

The rest of us, being Drew Duval, Taylor Fearrington, Laura Farrel, and Darin McQuiod, started dredging through the snow optimistically. We soon realized this wouldn't be a stroll in the park. Here I am Charging the snowy hike.
Photo by Laura

We hiked an extra 10 miles through the snow to get there.... so, you know its good. Drew and Taylor posing like pros.

We camped at the river, and awoke to a beautiful sunny day perfect for dropping some Danky waterfalls. Heres Darin testing out the Villain on some early drops.

There is a bad siphon after this picturesque drop... FYI!

Mr. Peaceful Warrior, Drew Duval, probing the Spike rapid, which needs a new name since the Spike is gone. I'm not complaining.

(Instert Yoda accent here) Platinum paddler he is yes.

Not afraid of the dark side.

Embrace the Swirl, and the Swirl will embrace you.

This was Taylor's first over-nighter... I think he got his boof on.

Laura styles the perfect 20 footer.

Royal Gorge training?

One of the many reasons I love Cali.

The rock in Nikki's drop is pretty nice.

Fluffy bunnies in there ya know.

Darin looks comfortable in the Burl Swirl.

Hydro boosting of a different sort.

Laura isn't afraid to bomb in like the rest of the boys.

Looks like a shower for Rambo.

You should go there... and I should go back.

Spring Up

2010-03-17T12:08:00.000-07:00

Spring has arrived. The snow has begun to melt. The Chargers are beginning to Charge!

Two of my east coast hommies, Drew Duval and Baker Davenport, rolled in from the east coast recently with an appetite for Cali Swirls. Therefore, we loaded up Big Red and headed for the Baby's Bottom of all mountains, the Sierra Nevadas. You could say their smooth granite is quite attractive to us Swirl Chargers. The warm sun, sandy beaches, rockin music, great food, and beautiful women also lure us to what we consider the 'promised land'.

Shine on.

We started off the season with a rare run that flows into the North Fork of the American called Shirt-tail creek. We escaped death at the put-in by the skin on our chinny chin chin, as Robbie Hogg informed us that the locals don't take kindly to strangers.

Shirt-tail creek entering the North Fork of the American.

The flow was low, but the flair was high, as we waited on a feather leather's wedding to proceed on the sketchy shuttle road. I shouted to Drew, " We need more Flair!" Joyously boofing our way down the creek, I commented on how similar it was to a SE creek, with smoother rocks and less mank, of course.

Heres Baker Davenport posing Jah Rhasta style in front of a swirl.

After awakening from a frosty morning next to the river that beholds the Royal Gorge, we took a nice jaunt down the Giant Gap, which proved worthy of scenery and rapids. Chawanakee Gorge of the San Joaquin River is sooo hott on the Cali radar right now. The only reason this section of amazing river is running, is because Edison electric is having damn dam problems. The river was spiking into the 1000 cfs range; so, we took a pilgrimage to the promised land of Three Rivers, CA to wait it out.

Eric Giddens charging a phat boof off Triple Drop on the East Kaweah.

We found the East Kaweah to be the perfect place to spend a day on the water in the warm sunshine. Our good friends Eric and Rebecca Giddens, Geno, and Kevin Smith joined us. It was my first time in the East Kaweah, and I'm hooked like hydrogen is to oxygen in water. The level was a bit low, but we beggars can't be choosers.

The group chilling in a granite wonderland.

The next day, we got an early breakfast at We 3 Bakery, and drove to the mystical Chawanakee Gorge. After speaking with an Edison employee, our thoughts were confirmed that we would have a healthy flow of 950 CFS. The faucet was stuck and he was fresh out of WD-40; so, we ventured into the unknown. As we paddled by the powerhouse, it reminded me of Deliverance, as the dam employees looked at us with judgmental eyes, wishing they had the freedom we were about to exercise.

Chargeable? I think not...

Drew Duval and Kevin Smith taking one leap into the burlizone.

Big ups to the noble soul who rigged up a sturdy sailing rope, which greatly aided in the descent down to the river. The feeling of being 'in there' was very apparent even at this early stage of the adventure.

The water is stellar in there.

As we entered the rapids, the walls closed in quickly, and it began to look similar to the Devils Postpile.

Venturing into the unknown is what we live for.

The character of the river was stunning. Large boulders filled the granite slot, and gave way to a variety of lines through the rapids. The river delivered everything from tight slot boofs, to swirly eddy turns into man-eating hydraulics. We were slightly gripped, as we had read about a Trilogy of Big Drops in the Book. We found runnable rapids throughout the entire gorge, even though we portaged a few due to the stompiness of the flow. Unfortunately, the camera wasn't a priority during this run, as we weren't sure how long it would take to complete the run, which ended up being about 5 hrs.

Drew plugged her deep on this one.

Drew fired up a Big Drop, and pulled out a crucially,wicked, backender recovery above a giant swirl. He styled the line, but didn't sell it enough for Kevin and I to proceed into the raging aqua. We blazed into many of the rapids we could barely boat scout, and found this mad-bombing technique similar to the style required to complete the bottom 9 of the Kings in a day. Besides, you can only run a rapid blind once... right?

Charging a massive ledge hole... the norm for the day.

After a long, incredible, and satisfying day on the river, we paddled the lake while admiring a few steep creeks blowing in from the high mountains above. I love this run, and would definitely go back in at 950, and maybe a little higher, not much though. A lower flow would be considerably mellower and might allow one to feel brave enough to conquer all the swirls in there. The nature of this run is intimidating due to the sheer cliff walls, but the large boulders allow you to easily find eddies to get out and see what the burl is all about.

The end of the rainbow is in there.

Get in there while the getting is good! I would say this is a Classic California Class V run! Hope to get back in there ASAP! As always, stay Charging!

Peace-- Will Pruett

Last Charge of 09'

2010-01-12T01:20:00.000-08:00

Well, 2009 brought the heat... or the rain. Returned to the exquisite Toxaway at a premium -2'' with my boys Nick Murphy and Dustin Marquart. The story of the adventure is in a previous post. Got the best Christmas present ever... a healthy 16'' on the mighty Bear Creek! Here are a few of the last shots of 2009. Enjoy them.

Later-- Will

2009-12-06T12:48:00.000-08:00

One must always keep in mind that the journey is more important than the path, and the vehicle we choose is very important. Whether the trip is life, kayaking, or work; we must have faith in our decisions and stay positive through times of trial and tribulation. Most recently, Nick Murphy and myself decided to go to the Toxaway River after a good 3'' rain in Highlands, NC; whereas, Chattanooga got a meager 1/2'' sprinkle. My main veggie vehicle is currently on the operating table getting a new engine and tranny. So, I decided to do a quick veggie conversion on my older non-turbo Benz Wagon, in hopes of running on free veggie oil I had already pre-filtered. After a few hours of changing hoses, drilling holes, and tightening hose clamps, we were rolling on Vegg Power towards the Toxaway.

We didn't get very far before things started to fall apart, quite literally. One of our tires was disintegrated by an unseen evil force lurking along highway 64 near Cleveland, TN. Forgetting that my spare was in no shape to spare us unneeded time chilling on the road, I was forced to call my brother Andrew and get him to bring the spare from my rust bucket parts car. We got the spare spare (no grammatical error there) and drove to the nearest gas station to fill it up with air. However, as we were waiting on my brother's aid, Nick decided to charge his Ipod and play some tunes to pass the time. This was a bad idea because (unknowingly) this killed my battery and prevented us from cranking the old girl up. I ran across the road to Bi-Lo where there was a good-old- boy scavenging the donations at the Goodwill trailer. After realizing I wasn't there to bust his party, he gladly yanked his battery out and used his bare hands to hold the wires to the battery. Twice now, we were saved by the grace of good people helping us out in our time of despair.

After inspecting the wobbly seeming spare, I decided it was good enough to get us there. After conversing with a late-night gas station attendant, who's reliability was definitely in question, we headed towards Tellico Plains in search of so-called 'Highway' 68. We knew the landslide was going to add some time to our trip, but the detour ended up being a horror tour. Curvy, dark, slippery, and tight are adjectives I wouldn't mind using to describe a girlfriend, but not a road. Furthermore, it started to become clear that it wasn't my battery that was dead, but to our dismay, the alternator wasn't providing crucial energy to power necessary accessories such as the lights and wipers. We would have been better off with Rudolph's nose so bright, and an inner city bum stuck to the hood trying to put kids through college by wiping our windshield. Anyways, we made it back to our preferred highway 64 in the town of Ducks, much closer to Chatty than had hoped, and charged to nearest Wally world in search of a new battery. One new battery, 75 dollars poorer than before, Nick asleep the entire time, bright lights, working wipers, and we were back on the path to priceless-ness.

Re-charged by the ability to see the road well, I drove through the night to the Highlands of NC. At this point, the wobbly tire I checked earlier was now in full throttle dance mode, shaking to the groove of the road. I thought the lug-nuts needed more tightening; so, I cranked on them as hard as I could, but this didn't fix the problem. Wobbling into the Subway of Cashiers, a lady followed us in and enthusiastically informed us of our raving tire. I realized quickly that we couldn't make it on this intoxicated tire, and luckily found the Cashiers tire shop.

I filled out some forms, and went to sleep in the parking lot, in typical dirtbag fashion, seeing the waiting room full of wealthy elderly people. After being woken up by the mechanic, he brought the Benz in, and checked out our situation. Much like waiting on a doctor's diagnosis in the hospital, we sat anxiously waiting to hear how bad off she was. The look on his face when he gave us the news wasn't priceless, and said they might be able to re-thread the studs, but that they might be irreparable, which would leave us stranded. The manager didn't like the idea of 2 hippy looking kayakers eddied out in his parking lot anymore than we did, and gave the mechanic some words of ecouragement. During our layover, Drew Duvall called and said the Toxaway was at a premium level of -2''. Our hopes were re-kindled, and our prayers answered because the mechanic was able to re-thread the studs and re-balance the drunken tire, getting us back on track to kayak one of the most amazing rivers in the SE. I commented on how we passed the test and were on our way to reap the rewards of our faith and perseverance.

Drew and Baker bailed on the Toxaway, but Dustin Marquart was fully in and stoked to see us come smoothly rolling into the take-out smelling of french fries. We geared up and headed to the put-in like a herd of turtles, slowly but surely. The level was dramatically more manageable than my previous run of +2'' on the gauge, and we began Charging the incredible Cali slides section. Nick loves to run big rapids, and the satisfaction on his face was evident that he, including Dustin and I, was loving it. We all had super smooth lines and accomplished the portages in quick fashion. Arriving at the put-in for Landbridge, Nick looked downstream at the ominous horizon line and asked, "is that Wintergreen?" I quickly responded, "yea, but if you're gonna run Landbridge, you better focus on it first." Landbridge and Wintergreen are like kayaking crack. They are so big and smooth that it makes you feel so high that you're never going to come down. Luckily or unluckily, depending on your perspective, the 3 mile hike-out brings you back down to Earth, where one belongs anyways.

We made it back to the put-in, and were pleasantly surprised that the Vegg-Wagon cranked right up and began purring down the mountains towards the flatter and easier route we chose to return on through Georgia. However, after pouring another 5 gallons of Liquid Gold into the tank, with the temperature right around freezing, and lacking an in-tank heater, the vegg power began to dwindle and I realized we needed some Dino-Diesel to thin the oil down a little. So, we stopped at gas station in Georgia for Diesel, and I also realized the hand-primer was getting sucked closed along with the battery losing juice. I started asking people at the gas station to give us a jumper cable boost, and a load of mexicans in a pick-up offered some assistance. I figured since the mexicans were going to give a boost that I could shut down the engine to remove the hand-primer without spraying fuel everywhere. I figured wrong because the mexicans had put their jumper cables under their epic mound of "stuff", and the task looked to daunting to dig them out. Once again, I began asking people for help, and even asked the attendant if he had any jumper cables, but he said, "no, and you can't be soliciting customers or leave your car parked at the pump." At first I thought the guy was a jerk, but he ended up letting us use his phone to call the police to come and give us a jump. I don't know what it is about kayaks and cops, but they don't seem to get along. The cop reluctantly boosted us up, and seemed more interested in locking us up.

Back on the road, our lights began to faded to a mere flicker. Not feeling safe under these conditions, and lacking the money to buy another battery, we pulled off the highway and went to sleep with the engine running knowing that we would have no way of re-starting it at dawn. We didn't exactly awake at dawn, but started the drive feeling much more rested than the night before. The trip was coming to a close as we got around 30 miles from Chattaboogie, when another tire was disintegrated into a million shreds by another unknown evil force. We were disappointed to say the least. However, it gets darkest before the dawn, and the dawn was elusively approaching. Without cell phones or much money, I started walking through the woods next to the interstate searching for somebody who could help. Luckily, whether it be faith, luck, or randomness, I found a good soul willing to help us out. He knew the owner of a tire shop, and got us a brand new tire in less than 30 minutes. Finally, we completed this epic journey feeling as though we had been to California and back. The rapids aided in the feeling also.

Even though we were faced with great difficulties along the way, there is no doubt in mine or Nick's mind that the trip was worth it. From the words of Alfred in The Dark Knight, "Why do we get knocked down master Bruce? So we can learn to get back up again." Never stay down, and don't hesitate to charge the path you feel leads towards your enlightenment. Here are a few shots I got from the Toxaway.

Peace, Love, and Charging-- Will Pruett

One Fine Charge

2009-11-12T21:51:00.000-08:00

One must be balanced and poised on the edge to be ready for the battle that takes place in so many deep, dark, and scary places. The path is traveled by a few chosen brethren, who feel compelled to ride the blood of the earth that has been so rampant upon us so recently. Many warriors are now willing and able to take heed and Charge the turbulent and often trying waters of, not only, our greatest earthly treasures, but also the roads that men have paved.

Curt "Bag" is back on Sunshine Left

Luckily, when one generates positive energy for the whole, and not just oneself, everyone benefits from the effort. In recent case, the Green Race has spawned a new breed of lifestyle, competition, and community that embraces everyone's ability to enjoy an amazing natural resource. The Green River near Asheville, NC has a unique structure which generates renewable energy, while also providing recreation for kayakers, tubers, anglers, pon-tooners, and carnage seekers.

Tim Bell guiding the last few racers into battle.

This years Green Race was my first year to compete. I haven't paddled the Green River near as much as I would like to, and I have a great respect for the locals who live and train around the Knarrows. With that said, I went into the race with the mindset that I was out to have fun and post my time. My first day in a long boat on the Green was in my Corsica, which my Dad, being an OC-1er, bought to try and teach me how to kayak in a Dancer XS. Being 9 years old at the time and my Dad, having only canoeing experience, proved to be a rough learning curve, but I prevailed and found the old long-boat to be quite exciting on the Green. Thankfully, Woody offered Toby's old Liquid Logic Remix 100% to me, and I graciously accepted.

The Stingers. Photo stolen from Shanes blog.

Long-boats are really fun on the Green, and any river you feel comfortable with for that matter. Especially new-school long-boats that are actually designed to run big burly drops and stay upright and fast. Anyways, after a few killer practice sessions, and a few outrageous party nights driving down the switchbacks in the WreckCenter, I was ready to Charge the legendary Green Race! Despite registering extremely late, hurting by back with a bowling ball, and leaving some safety gear at Whale Tale; I had a great run and think that next time I should actually try to paddle hard instead of just styling my lines and avoiding throw ropes.

All I heard was Charge coming through the Notch. Photo courtesy of Chris Bell

The party was... well... if you were there... then you were there... and if you weren't... then you should be there next year. I found my safety gear the following day, and drove over to Joe Barkley's crib to discuss the fluid dynamics of veggie oil. We awoke the following morning to find the Cascades flowing at a most optimum flow. I decided to test the Hungee out on the some different water, and found myself at the take-out alot faster and gripped than I thought I would be. Lets just say I took the Grande on the next run.

Photo by Arlyn Agababian

The 82' Benz Veggie wagon is a tank. No seriously, on my return through the Ocoee gorge, I came screeching to a halt when a BEAR came Charging across 64 dripping wet with whitewater. Luckily for Yogee, I have 4 wheel disc brakes, and only clipped him/her in the rump, wounding Chattanooga's most prized natural resource... no, we don't actually kill bears. However, be it omen, irony, or randomness, the skies once again dropped the blessed liquid that would bring Bear Creek up to, according to Bryce, an optimal level of 19 inches.

Javid Grubbs looking small below Stairway to Heaven.

The sun shone forth and we embarked on the arduous 20 minute drive, 15 minute shuttle, and 50 yard hike to finally arrive clothed in armor and ready to do battle with our favorite nemesis. The Chattanooga Chargers aren't too keen on scouting, portaging, or going slow; so, we decided to Charge portage free. I was able to jump out of my oh so roomy Grande and film some of the boys firing off some of the flatwater. I would like to dedicate this here movie picture to our fallen comrade who pioneered and cleverly named the rapids of the Bear... Ron Stewart. Here are a few pics with names of rapids and chargers. There is a video too, but its speaks for itself. Charge peace.

Ryan Allen on Surrealistic Pillow

Scenic view of Cosmic Trigger below Stairway.

Bryce Evans in Revelations

Jason Rodwell heading into Armageddon.

Javid and Paul Hubbard rallying some typical boogie.

Taylor Martin amongst a big bad boogie hole.

Bear Master Bryce finishing up Omega.

Balling the Burlfest

2009-10-04T12:32:00.000-07:00

Soon after my last update/rant, the heavens once again opened up, releasing the liquid that brings us kayakers so much pleasure, and sometimes, so much pain. Summer creek boating can be very elusive here in the South East corner of US n A because of our water chugging lush vegetation. Therefore, even after a serious downpour, some creeks may not come to life as the trees, lawns, and pools tend to hogg all the water. Nevertheless, a Chattaboogie local creek did get enough rain to bring the Dragon out of its Lair long enough for a few Chargers to take a ride on Falling Water. By the time Team Jib rallied its senses and launched our blessed kayaks, the water had fallen significantly, leaving us with a medium-low flow of 1.5' on the bridge gauge. Wielding our Werner swords, we entered the Lair and defeated the Dragon without hindrance. The sun fell quick to the West and we were forced to evacuate the gorge via a steep and treacherous trail back up Waldens Peak, arriving at our take-out higher than where we put-in, a rare scenario Bryce Evans so eloquently pointed out during the hike. I believe we were the only ones to capture some sweet free- flow this day, as many brave kayakers were skunked by this strange band of storms.

The week to follow would include a sojourn in West (by God) Virginia for the annual Gauley Fest. I returned to my roots on this trip by taking my Dad's open boat down the Upper on Saturday. I was pleasantly surprised to have a righteously smooth run without a dip in the drink. This adventure was also especially special because this is when I began my life as a Grease Bandit, always on the prowl for a good, dark, clean, trap to stick my hose in and suck the liquid gold that fuels my 82' Benz veggie-wagon. Woody and I are on completely different wave-lengths b/c I got knocked out of Ro-Sham-Bo (SP?) in the first round every time, and then I made the mistake of trying to wrestle the Beast that is Woody.

Luckily, all the ritualistic activities of G-Fest must have appeased the River God, as another huge band of rain came ripping through the South, bringing many waterways to wicked nasty flood levels that would alter some creeks forever. I was tempted to stay around Asheville for some super ultra micro creeking, since everything else was off the Richter scale, but upon receiving word that the Bear was high and on a rampage, I rallied back to Chattanooga for some Local Suck to get me prepped to do battle with the Bear the following day. The Bear receded quicker than expected, forcing us to rally early and take a stroll down the Stairway to Heaven at slightly lower than recommended juice. However, the run is almost completely free of wood, allowing us to Charge all but one minor boogie rapid due to a log being laid across the creek.

A certain creek like none other in the land received torrential amounts of rain from the previous storm, and I got word that it was going to be good-to-go the following day. After filling up the Benz with Soy Oil from our local Panda Chinese restaurant, I was rolling down the road headed towards the land of waterfalls with high hopes of paddling the Toxaway river near Cashiers, NC. Sleeping at a school-bus stop is not a good place to catch some sleep, as the energetic children find a veggie smelling wagon interesting before they get on the bus for school early in the morning. So, I got going early and picked up a Subway 12'' veggie patty before checking the level above the mighty Toxaway Falls. The gauge read 2'', and after conversing with our members of previous descent, decided it was still good-to-go but pretty high for some newbies. I had heard that you want more water than less on this run, and decided to Charge the massive put-in slide without really thinking about how all the water pulsating in the eddy below would inevitably feel pretty big in the gutter-like gorge that thundered downstream. My buddies Tim Collins and Chad Pickens joined me in the white-knuckled gallery as we were blown away by the Burlyness of our first experience in the Toxaway gorge. Billy Jones, Adam Bixby, and Dustin also concluded that the water felt significantly pushier than previous 2'' runs, but we were still able to keep it safe in there and discover some incredible changes to the geology of the riverbed. A giant landslide deposited a boulder into the middle of what was known as Minigizer, creating a new line we dubbed the Mini-Landbridge. However, the hole at the bottom of Minigizer looked awful hungry, and the pungy stick was dangling down right where you wanted to be, so we portaged down to Energizer. Dustin fired it up and had a good line, and inspired me to run the stout. Rocketing into the flow after a high-speed seal-launch, I decided to bust a 180 into Switch mode and take a rodeo ride in the rowdy hole at the bottom for extra style points of course. After almost stepping on a silent, deadly, and super-camoed Copperhead, we found another landslide below Landbridge that deposited some unfriendly looking trees into the run-out rapid after Landbridge. There wasn't really a landbridge at this level or an eddy below the drop; so, we decided to push back into the jungle for yet another burly portage. We all stared long and hard at the monster that is known as Wintergreen, and some decided to Charge while others chose a slower route. The boogie section below Wintergreen is no joke as is the 4 mile hike-out. In the words of Mr. Hilleke after his leisurely hike-out of Yucca Point in the 7 rivers expedition, "If you're not beat down now (After the Toxaway)... I can't help you"!

I got some pretty good vid from these recent adventures and decided to put together a little glimpse into what I refer to in the recent weeks as a Burl-Fest. The Liquid Logic Grande has been an excellent craft during the festivities. Take care and never hesitate to CHARGE!

Peace-- Will Pruett

Grande Green Summer

2009-09-02T13:36:00.000-07:00

Yo Yo Yo,

As the world turns and our ever changing planet shifts seasons, its time to get fired up about cool weather, falling leaves, pumpkins, the Gauley, and (off course) the return of water into our free flowing rivers. El Nino is supposedly back, and for those of you who don't speak Spanish, that means "The Nino" in English. Why El Nino gets the credit for one temperature gain in the Pacific eludes me, but if it means more snow in the Sierras and more rain in the SE, then I'm stoked that he/she (not sure its gender) is back.

Anyways, those of us who have been stuck in the Dirty South all summer have been forced to get our fix from damn dams. Not that I'm mad that we have dams on certain rivers, but they are just so mechanical and unforgiving that they force us to enact schedules into our lives. The Green River Narrows is a saviour to the creekboating community, which is more addicted to boofing than hot chicks are to drama. Thankfully, Duke Energy gives us our fix through generous water releases on the Green, and we are able to stay sane in a world of cars, computers, chaos, and crack-heads. Creekboaters aren't that different from crack-heads, and get pretty upset when the Duke doesn't give us our Fix by releasing the Gorilla.

The Ocoee and Rock Island have also been running thanks to their dams. I have been boogie boarding lately and its a great way to stretch your legs out after a long playboating session and get your board on bro. Rock Island is pretty tough to catch since its big powerful current is tough to ferry across, but once your in it, its Full Throttle for sure. I recommend wearing a cup, because the violent foam pile can be rough on the berries. Hell Hole on the Ocoee is quite a bit tamer than The Rock, and is much easier to catch since you can literally jump into the heck wave from the bank. Make sure to wear your constricting PFD, or old johnny law dogg might hit you with a hefty fine that will cut into your Hedge Fund heavily.

I have been Charging a Liquid Logic Jefe for quite a few years now, and was a little hesitant to convert to the Grande when I saw its massive characteristics. I thought to myself, "well, I'm a medium sized guy, and the Jefe is a medium sized boat, so I should just stick with it". However, after hearing raves and reviews from fellow Chargers of the same stature, I began to wander what this Grande was all about. Breaking my regular boss Jeferson after a solid year of Charging, Ryan Allen was kind enough to let me take his great white whale, aka Moby Dick, aka white Grande for a spin. Moby Dick was the king of the sea, and it was easy to see. The Grande is the King of the Creek, and its easy to see.

It almost makes things too easy... NOT! So stable, forgiving, fast, maneuverable, comfortable, and Charge-able that even a Caveman could paddle it.

So, I made a little vid to get fired up about the upcoming season of giving... given er' hell that is.

Peace-- Will Pruett

LL Biscuit 55

2009-04-08T19:40:00.000-07:00

Liquid Logic's newest playboat, the Biscuit, is one radical machine. Named after designer Shane Benedict's crazy hyper dogg Biscuit, this boat doesn't let down the dogg in its plastic form.

Thanks to the friendly folks at Rock/Creek outfitters, Jamie and Taylor, for letting me borrow their fresh Biscuit SS demo for its inaugural run of Rock Island. The dam was releasing; so, we decided to Charge off the Mill Side of the Falls. The Mill Side is a straight up waterfall, and I was surprised how tall it was after cresting the lip. So, I went for a reverse McNasty and nailed it with style. Check the Vid. After that, we hiked up to the Spout, the one everyone hucks off in LVM, and threw a freewheel into the foam. The Biscuit was treating me well.

The hole next to the put-in waves was good at this level. I forgot my overthruster, and wasn't able to get as high as I would have liked to, but the boat cartwheeled smoothly and looped good for not having an air dildo. Super stable in a side surf. You could sit their all day.

The main hole was beefy, but the Biscuit's no fear attitude gained control of the Maw and sat rather smoothly and gracefully in the pit. I couldn't believe how much pop this thing has. I missed my blunt stroke because it goes so big.

The Brave Wave was sitting tall and proud at this level. Not much foam to keep you, but the Biscuit had plenty of energy to catch and rip up this haystack. Very fast, loose, and controllable, I was able to wear myself out surfing until I felt like getting off the wave. The Biscuit also rode up on top of the turbulent waters following the wave, which is where the name Brave Wave comes from, and allowed me to catch the eddy everytime. No walks of shame for me.

I went back to the Rock at a regular 3,600 CFS day in the Biscuit and couldn't believe how easy it was to catch the finnicky Brave Wave. Of course, the Main Hole was hungry for Butter Milk and ate me and Biscuit whole a few times. Good training.

For reference, I'm 6' tall, size 11 feet, weigh 165 lbs, single, and looking for a good time. The Biscuit is loose and easy to go big. I think I won't be the only one looking to take her home in the future. Charge on.

Heres the vid.

Suck Creeking

2009-04-08T18:17:00.000-07:00

Suck Creek is Chattanooga's local roadside gem. If you are wondering why its called the Suck, its not because it literally Sucks. The reason lies in the history of the Tennessee river before it was dammed. Back when the Tennessee river was wild and scenic, some considered it the Grand Canyon of the East. The river was, and still is high volume, gorging out the surrounding sandstone mountains to create a magnificent canyon perfect for rock climbers, hang-gliders, mountain bikers, and of course kayakers. Now, I'm not saying the Tennessee is good for whitewater boat riding today, but in its pre-dam stage, I'm sure it had some Big ole' Burlers in there at the right water levels.

That being said, this is how the name Suck Creek came about. When the river was still wild, and the river was the best form of transportation around, many a boat captains challenged the mighty Suck rapid on the Tennessee. There are stories that say 100' long barges were know to get sucked into this knarly hydraulic and flip, causing all passengers and cargo to go for a swim. Suck Creek supposedly flows into the Tennessee right where this rapid used to be.

I can't say that the Suck Rapid dishes out its fair share of beatings anymore because its now flat-water, but Suck Creek sure does. When they built the road that runs parallel to the creek, workers blasted and hucked huge jagged ricks into the streambed. During some road repairs, they even chucked peices of scrap asphault infested with rebar into our beloved Suck. As you can tell, this gave our local gem quite a knarly character.

Nonetheless, Ron Stewart, Mike Culberson, and my dad Paul Pruett were planning the first decent in the early 90's. Ron was one of the greatest whitewater pioneers around. He claimed first D's on most of the steep creeks in the Chattanooga area in boats like the Cosrsica and Freefall LT. When the rain arrived and the time came for the first D of Suck Creek, my dad was forced to work and bail on the mission, but warned Mike and Ron that 2 people aren't enough poeple to set proper safety in the case of a pin. Hungry to slay the beast, Ron and Mike put on by themselves anyways. Unfortantely, Mike got pinned on one of the first rapids we believe is now called Road Construction and Ron wasn't able to free him. Mike died that day on Suck creek. Ron was especially remorseful of the situation, as was my Dad, and neither or them ever paddled the run again.

Ron Stewart also recently passed away this past Spring after battling Cancer for many years, still teaching Calculus at Baylor, my High-School, up until the very end. I want to give my greatest respect to Ron and Mike for paving the way for all the Chattanooga Chargers. I dedicate this vid that I shot on a low water day to both of them for Given'er Full Throttle.

My Dad always warned me that Suck Creek is not to be taken lightly, and I didn't my first time down in a Space Cadet. But with people achieveing such crazy feats as running 100' waterfalls, and the Middle Kings in a day, its hard to step-back and realize that without the old-school chargers, we would never be where we are today. I hope we will continue to make them proud.

Heres the vid. Charge on Brothers and Sisters.

Ridge Riding

2009-04-01T17:30:00.000-07:00

Howdy Ya'll

The element of life once again fell generously from the skies attempting to lure the Bear out of its den, but was only capable of catching a Lil' Possum off gaurd. Misled by the amber colored aqua I found at the take-out, I gave word to Team Jib that the Possum was high, but was quickly corrected at the put-in when we found a minimal flow of 4 tubes @ 60% capacity. Nevertheless, we were there and ready to Charge. So, Nick Murphy fired up a first D on the left tube, and we paddled down to Biggy Smalls formerly known as Immodium. Various entry angles resulted in various levels of pain/pleasure from the low aerated 25' waterfall. Double Drop comes quickly after Biggy, and I showed by example that the river right flume is good to go at this flow. Burl Master Bryce felt obliged to show the youngens that the old-school, high-water, left-line is also open for business at low flows. White Out is the last big rapid of the run, and dished out a fair amount of Carn for the Team. We narrowly avoided the rubicon of trees that plague the lower section of the run, and were stoked to have succesfully scraped down Walden's Ridge in relatively good time.

Being just 3:00PM when we finished off the Possum, Bryce baited us to go and get a taste of Henderson, which he was certain would have more water. After a quick stop at a up-scale dining establishment in Dayton, TN, we climbed the Ridge once again in search of a small trib with some stout drops. The gauge at the put-in read -7'' which doesn't sound like enough, but it was. The 3 miles of flatwater aren't exactly scenic when you're stroking for broke to make it to the steeps before the sun falls in the west. However, we made it to the sweet boof above Spinal Adjustment, and performed a mini-stomp technique to preserve our Cords of Nerves. Adioslave pulsed through my mind as we approached Spoonman, Jeremy's stylish line gave us confidence to Burl-On. Next up, the hardest rapid in the greater Chatt-town area, Fire Escape. This rapid is a multi-tiered, complex, and highly consequential rapid that has served more carnage than any other rapid I've ever seen... besides that angry low-water monkey. Jeremy's Jefe got a little impatient while we were scouting, but wasn't very succesful without Jeremy's jedi master skills guiding it and got stuck in a sieve. Determined to finish the run, Jeremy jumped across the creek, and rescued his kayak. We escaped the wrath of Fire Escape safely and continued downstream to the juicified Richland portion of the journey. We got off the Rio right at dark, and had to call our buddy the Sheriff to open the gate for our final escape. It was quite an endeavor we completed in a day for us to run Possum and Henderson in a day, and we had alot of fun. Lessons were learned from our epic day of Charging, and we all walked away braver men from the experience. Keep on Charging!

Heres some vid I got from the adventure.

Chattanooga Chargers

2009-01-17T14:56:00.000-08:00

Salutations fellow cyber-spacers,

Thanks to all the kayakers ritualistically doing rain dances, prayers, and checking the radar. The blessed rain returned to defeat the evil drought that gripped the Southeast so tightly in its grasp. The parched earth took a mighty drink from the frequent yet minor showers that hit during November and helped establish the water tables that were close to extinction. These minor showers weren't enough to get the mighty Bear to rise from its deep slumber. It wasn't until the leaves had reached their final resting place in December that the big guns rolled in and dropped the blessed bombs of liquid pleasure that would fill the earths gutters enough for the Bear to come out of hibernation.

The Chattanooga Chargers were not caught off guard. The Legends of Team Jib rallied at headquarters to decide when and where we would make our move. One look at Lookout Creek gauge and the decision was clear that the Bear was ready for a visit. Upon arrival, we found a steady yet stout level of 22'', and casually geared up for what would be a day of ultimate Charging. Stairway to Heaven was travelled at great and blinding speed as the whitewater highway would pose no speed-limit or hinder freestyle. A new log in Big Bang made more than a few contemplate the throw and go option, seeing as portaging is not an option here, but Bear master Bryce would lead the calvary to freedom with a smooth line despite the wood. Not everyone would make it through the infamous Boulder Gardens unscathed. A section, which at 22'', proves to be a perfect training course for the legendary Middle Kings. A booty beer for me would please the river gods and allow safe passage for the upcoming downpours of the beginning of 2009.

The Gulf of Mexico brewed up the perfect storm to start 2009 with a torrential downpour unseen in the most recent past. Finding every single local creek breaching its banks, I decided to look at a supposedly un-run 30'er on Daniel Creek, a major tributary to the Bear found in Cloudland Canyon. One look at the entrance and it was quite clear why this waterfall remains a virgin to white-water boat riders. Feeling humbled by what turned out to be a 50'er on Daniel, and with the Bear raging at 27'' and dropping slowly, I decided to go and try to tame a different animal. Little Possum beholds one of the cleanest 28'ers around Chattanooga. So, we rallied up JC Sprayer, and found the Possum to be an admirable waterway. Of course, after the Burly runs loose their juice, our local Suck holds well and allows the Chattanooga Chargers to continue get their Boof on days after the animals have receded. Until the next rain arrives, we will give the playboats some action at the mighty Rock Island, seeing as its lake is still rather full.

I captured much of the Charging on film and want to share a glimpse into some of the gems we possess in the greater Chatt-town area. Little River Canyon, South Suck, and Johnnies can also be found in the video. Hope ya'll have been getting wet also. Charge on...

Chattanooga Chargers from Will Pruett on Vimeo.

Middle Kings Mission

2008-09-11T18:10:00.000-07:00

HowdyYa'll,

The Middle Kings is truly "a river trip of a lifetime". Undoubtedly possesses some of the greatest scenery, rapids, magic, inspiration, and burly-ness I have ever experienced, and I don't think I'm all alone in saying that. Check it out.

Shuttle warriors, Dru Duvall, Joe Barkeley, and myself, beginning our epic 4th of July trip around the Sierras.

We ran out of veggie fuel quicker than expected, and hoped to find some at the Kern River Brewing Company only to find out their brewer was now harnessing the veggie power in his own rig. Forcing us to buy the fossil powered, $5.00 a gallon diesel, which would fuel us to Bishop.

We slept in the South Lake parking lot, after waiting on Joe for an hour to decide what kind of Peanut Butter to buy, only to awake to a swarm of burlers arriving to charge the Kings as well. Demshitz, Jed Selby, and Chilean bro opted for the Mules, but ended up having to carry TheirShitz like the rest of us due to a rock slide at Bisop Pass, which is where the above photo was taken, using a Ansel Adams autographed disposable camera, at somewhere around 13,000'

When you think of the MK hike-in, you immediately think back-pack. I'm here to tell ya'll, you don't need one! I carried my 90lb Jefe the entire way on my head, Sherpa Style, and can honestly sat it was good to go. I actually made rather good time, despite the viscous swarms of skeeters attacking my well-being. Don't forget OFF.

The 7 rivers cover drop being completely styled by our main man Dru Duvall.

Johhny Kentucky fires up one that one else decided to run because it lands on a shelf, and there are plenty of other rapids that don't.

Simply stunning scenery leaves one with a feeling of oneness with the universe.

Joe is a baller, in a pimping pad. We were serenaded to sleep by a giant slide right next to our camp site. Now this is living.

On our second day, we awoke early to get our Charge on, and passed Ryan Casey and Fred Corriel crew at Sik Camp, then caught Team Demshitz at the classic 200' slide. Heres Graham Seiler dropping into the waterfall gorge. They were in a hurry trying to get back to Colorado, but we just kept catching them. This is not a place to be in a hurry.

A nice scenic shot with the paddle that would later break in the Bottom 9, what a suprise... Not! However, the ever-trusty Jefe would stand the test strongly, and keep me safe and dry. Plus, I beleive at my weight of 160lbs, the Jefe performs better with the added weight in the back.

Dru Duvall charges the Big Bad Beaver. Dru flipped when he hit the compression hole in the middle, but it didn't hold him, and Dave Fusilli styled the whole thing. Props for charging it.

Jed Selby models in front of the magnificant Tehipiti Dome. Fantastic place to camp, but paddling 13 miles the day before the Bottom 9 is not the best idea.

After paddling 13 miles our second day on the river, Dru cracked his Nomad, and had to weld her back up with a camp stove. You do what you gotta do to get through.
Johnny Kentucky shows a warning sign of what was later to become, a bad swim in the Bottom 9, which resulted in a lost boat and hike-out after paddling 2 of the bottom 9 miles.
Typical sight on the Bottom 9... long, continuous, boulder-clogged, steep, unforgiving rapids, which I enjoyed the most out of the entire run. I guess I just love read and bombing type rapids.
Good morning Middle Kings! We made it through the Bottom 9 and set up camp to find Kentucky emege from the jungle looking like a brutalized Tarzan.
We opted for the Garlic Falls run instead of hiking out at Yucca Point, which Kentucky had to do alone, without a ride, and no cell phone. The Garlic Falls section proved to be a killer section of river with big water style waves and holes. Dru led us into this rapid above blind and he got worked like Freddy does in 7 rivers, but luckily I boofed the middle rock by intuition, and pointed for Joe and Jason to do the same. However, Joe read my signal as far river right, and boofed the rock in front of the spray in the top of the picture, but Jason got pulled back into the wicked pocket hole, forcing him to wet exit. Now 3 out of the 5 us had swum on the Kings, including myself due to the broken paddle in the Bottom 9.

The site of my car never looked so good after 5 days of Middle Kings Full Throttle style action.

Luckily, Kentucky found a ride out of Kings Canyon to Fresno, where we, by intuition, found him trying to hitch-hike back to Sac at this McDonalds.

As you can see, we were stoked for our 300 mile shuttle ride back to Bishop, having just completed the Middle Fork of the Kings at a "high side of good" flow with some stellar bros.

Until next time. Charge on fellow brothers and sisters.

Peace-- Will

Sierra Surfing

2008-09-07T15:09:00.000-07:00

Greetings fellow earthlings,

I hope you all have had a wet and wonderful summer, as I have. Here are some photos from my kayaking adventures in California. Big thanks to Kevin Smith for taking the sweet shots. I also want to add that the title of this long post comes from the book I've been reading called Surfing the Himalayas, and has some amazing insights on how to become one with your board, kayak, or whatever you find yourself doing. A very good read indeed. Basically, to become one with your kayak, you must stop thinking about kayaking and just do it... or thats what Enlightened Master Fwap suggests.

Gittin me some in the Gus on Dry Meadow.

Squeezing through the crack.

Stomping her down into one of the Teacups.

Local BA Eric Giddens charging it whilst his wife Rebecca films... Nice view Eh

Rebecca Giddens shows us some fine olympic caliber form.

Sure are alot of peeps at a creek most haven't heard of in the Kaweah Drainage... Clover Baby!

Haven't seen anybody run these bad boys. Although they look super good to go... more water would be better.

Slippin sliddin down a sweet slide on Clover at around 9000 feet. The water is frigid!

Finishing the day with yet another super smooth slide on Clover.... get this bad boy early in the season when Hospital Rock is too high. Its up near the Giant Forests of Sequioa. Park n´Huck.

Heres Eric boofing through the 420 gorge on the fine Hospital Rock of the Middle Kaweah.

Kevin from Mammoth...our photgrapher.

You can barely see Luke from Mammoth going Zero to Sixty on middle Kaweah.

Me, myself, and I staying High and Dry on the Hospital Rock.

Here we are on the not-talked-about-much Cataracts of the Kern. Can't beleive this thing is roadside, damn released, and Class V and not many people hit it. Except the Giddens of course.

I dropped my HD camera in the river moments before this... hence, not much footy this summa... what a bumma.

Dinky Creek has some stellar rapids!

My boy Tim Collins firing up Wet Willy on Dinkey!

Nice 20'er followed by a not-so-nice seive... I probed and set safety for the boys. Sketchtron...

Heres Luke recovering the boats after the classic portage on Dinky. Note: not the only mando porto... watch out for an almost landbridge, followed by a knarly unrunnable... I almost ran.

Tim Collins getting some breakfast slide action.

El Jefe doing what it does best... Charging!

Stomping is so much fun... even on small drops.

I led the boys off the perfect waterfall in the background blind, and they loved it. All smiles :)

This is the moment I live for... dropping into a perfect 20'er completely blind yet fully awake.

As Kevin found out, the river left side of this falls is rather sticky.

Nikki Kelly is one bad mamma jamma, and she got worked in this one, so I decided to sneak her. Still Fun though.

Hope you enjoyed these captured moments. Can't wait till next time. See you on the river.

Peace, Love, and Enlightened Kayaking-- Will Pruett

Some Video

2007-10-25T13:23:00.000-07:00

Yule Do It.

2007-09-03T21:14:00.000-07:00

Yo Yo Yo,

Heres a little story about an adventure on a creek called Yule. If you haven't already heard of this creek, let me just say this... its a BURLFEST! Well, it was a nice sunny afternoon in late June when we decided to charge this hogg even with its dwindling amount of wadditah (H20). But hey, the opportunity arose, and we shot it down like a turkey before thanksgiving. Speaking of shooting down, ole J.C. Sprayer from Chatt-town, TN forgot his camera in some of the upper boogie and we had to wait on him to scramble back up the scree walls in search of it... luckily hes kinda fond of his camera and found it pretty quick. Back to the matter at hand, we (being a bunch of chargers) blazed down the first mile or so of super-fun slides in pretty quick fashion, knowing that the mighty Ball Check lay ahead. The cahones receded as we peered over the lip of Ball Check and saw what lay in wait of our descent. Being commander of the Jefe and all, I checked my balls first, with hopes of capturing my mates flying off the mighty Ball from below.

A Ball Checking we go...

Not only did I get the shot, as you can see above, but also gave the boys some superior guidance on where to be on the lip of Wall Check to proceed with a stellar ride. You can see Toolsbee... I mean Silsbee flying herehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8vU4shG0Gs footage courtesy of Full Throttle.

So after everyone styled the infamous Wall Check with grace and composure, I decided to hop back in the ole' Jefe and give er'. Lets just say I wish I was standing on the lip telling me where to go.

Om Ah Hum and away we go.

Right? No.. not right... b/c i started too far right...

Hmmm... why ain't I flying in the air like the
rest of the boys?

Ahhhh... it was my destiny to be Checker of the WALL!!! Kids, don't try this at home.

The joy of being, and the pain that makes us feel so alive.

I must admit, that wall is pretty damn hard, but not hard enough to stop this maniac from finishing this here river trip with a portage! Even though my hommies offered to carry me up those 200 foot scree walls, I told myself what any good football coach will tell an injured player, "Walk it off son". So I did, and it was all right. Then I grinded down some little slide called Oreintal Massage, and it was pretty wicked.

Shane Groovesy flowed down that slide like MSG on stir-fry to-go... but thats in another video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_JJZY9ACBc and Nathan decided to wheel it...

I don't know what that last drop is called but I'd like to think its Soylent Blue

To wrap things up, my beers floated away from the take-out while we were charging, El Walle ate the bow of El Jefe, Mr. Finney fell and ripped his pants whilst taking these wonderful picutres, and a 36 hour drive back to TN is not the best way to heal sore ankles. But hey, in the words of Ricky Bobby, "If you ain't first, you're last"! I'm not sure how that quite applies to this blog post, but hey is for horses. Do you live in a barn?

Peace, Love, and Charge-Festivals--Will Pruett

Shane Groves, Nathan Silsbee, Jonathon Cambell aka Sprayer. De Chargers man'

Welcome

2005-10-25T16:34:00.000-07:00

Namaste'
Welcome to the wacky world of Will. Everything goes here.