First Descents

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'

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

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

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

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

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

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 :)