SWIMMING LESSONS

 

Bogart: How'd you like it?
Hepburn: Like it?
Bogart: Whitewater rapids!
Hepburn: I never dreamed. . .
Bogart: I don't blame you for being scared -- not one bit. Nobody with good sense ain't scare of whitewater.
Hepburn: I never dreamed that any mere physical experience could be so stimulating.
-The African Queen 

Erik Allen looked at me sternly. Things needed to happen fast and now. I was soaking wet standing in swirling ankle-deep freezing water after being tossed about in the rapids of the North Fork of the American like a bobbing float toy. I had gathered enough strength to swim to the rocky shore and found some footing. The boat I had used was somewhere downstream, consequentially leaving me marooned on the wrong side of the river.  It was Groundhog's Day.

"You're going to have to swim across to the other side of the river," Erik said over the sound of the rushing water. "There is no trail here. We're on the wrong side dude!"

Moments before,  I had suffered a  classic boater's beat down nightmare. Upstream, I had rolled and was forced to swim. I could still see the emerald wave moving in slow motion. It was curling, big and looked ten-feet tall. I was hypnotized by its size and power. I lost focus and froze, committing the cardinal sin of white-water kayaking.  I had stopped paddling just hoping to ride it out.

"Fearful or tentative paddling is often a self-fulfilling prophecy, " said Team Pyranha's Pete Delosa, "When we are afraid of what might happen when focus on that thing and thereby cause it to happen. It's better to paddle aggressively and stay focused on the desired outcome. This is, of course, easier said than done a lot of the time. But, when you're tense the boat isn't able to rock with the water under you. You and your boat can't move independent of each other and that's when you get knocked over."

There is a saying on the river that every paddler, even the good ones are in between swims. According to the Whitewater Rescue Institutes's Mike Johnston, "When you fall in whitewater, it's common to be held underwater for a few seconds. Time seems to slow down. It's sort of like the dog years ratio, one actual second of submersion seems like about seven seconds. When you need to breathe and can't, three seconds can seem like twenty. This isn't a long time at your desk but can feel like forever at the bottom of a rapid. Don't panic."

When I rolled and broke away from my kayak,  I was on my back with my feet downstream.  I had one hand locked to my paddle and the other latched to the floundering boat as I bobbed along in the Class III torrent. The turbulent and aerated waves frothed and bounded dishing out its fury on my body and boat. Keeping my feet pointed downstream, I  used my body to angle through the current maneuvering right or left, with the boat in front of me.  I kept my body long and streamlined to maneuver smoothly and efficiently. The goal now was not to get hurt.

"The world goes dark, " writer and adventurer Joe Kane said in his book Running the Amazon, a firsthand account of the only expedition ever to travel the entire 4,200-mile Amazon River from its source in Peru to the Atlantic Ocean, as he describes his swim through the abyss of churning rapids. "The river— the word hardly does justice to the churning mess enveloping you— the river tumbles you like so much laundry. It punches the air from your lungs. You're helpless. Swimming is a joke. You know for a fact that you are drowning. For the first time, you understand the strength of the insouciant monster that has swallowed you. Maybe you travel a hundred feet before you surface (the current is moving that fast). And another hundred feet—just short of a truly fearsome plunge, one that will surely kill you— before you see the rescue lines. You're hauled to shore wearing a sheepish grin and a look in your eye that is equal parts confusion, respect, and raw fear."

Erik was quick to my rescue after I had bounced like a floating beach ball through the big waves. "Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled out. In a moment of hesitation, I clung to my boat even tighter rolling into the fury of the rapid. People forget to emphasize that on single boat trips, the backup plan is always self-rescue. It's a good risk management to apply the buddy system to every river trip.

Erik Allen has what they call the water gene. A former Navy medic,  he has taken up adventure guiding as his true passion. He is at home on the water as he is on land. He often leads groups snowshoeing, camping and hiking as well as kayaking. He is used to taking care of others while out in the wild.
"Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled again. I released my boat and watched it from the corners of my eyes drift away from me. "Give me your paddle!" I reached my paddle out from the waves. Erik snatched it from my hand. Then I swam with all my might to reach the back of his playboat. Stroke one, stroke two, and one more. The freezing water was leaving me breathless as his boat rushed ahead just out of reach. Another lunge forward and finally  I caught his stern handle as the waves punched at me again and again. As I caught breaths of air between the trough of waves,  I hung on tight to his boat as we were poured into a huge rapid.

Everyone should know about the potential for entrapment in moving water. I tried minimizing the risk of foot entrapment in moving water by keeping my feet up while hanging on the back of Eric's boat. My feet could act like hooks possibly to get caught between cracks in rocks or any type of nook or cranny on the bottom of the river. However in this improvised swimming position with my hands forward clutching Eric's kayak, I banged my knee and shins against the rocks. You would think after soaking for thousands of years they would be a little softer, but as we all know, rocks are very hard.

"Now swim, swim!' Erik shouted. I had turned from being a defensive swimmer to an aggressive one. Aggressive swimming is used to get from point A to point B as fast as possible. I let his boat go and with the American crawl kicked it into high gear,  setting a ferry angle to cross fast-moving current. Ferrying swimmers use the same techniques used when boating. Keep your head up so you can see where you are going, set a ferry angle and swim hard. Faster water uses a smaller angle and very slow water I could simply swim directly across at a 90 ° angle. As a former high school swimmer, I knew how to push my arms forward. Before long the I found some shallow rushing water.
After that long swim,  I was very tempted to stand up when I got close to the rocky and rough shore. The water was still moving very quickly and was deeper than my knees. Standing up to early I knew I could possibly get knocked down.  I took my time to stand when I found some decent footing. The only problem was it was on the wrong side of the river.

"You do not know how long you are in a river when the current moves swiftly. It seems a long time and it may be very short." Ernest Hemingway wrote in A Farewell to Arms. Joe Kane seems to follow it when he wrote, "That is River Lesson Number One. Everyone suffers it. And every time you get the least bit cocky, every time you think you have finally figured out what the river is all about, you suffer it all over again.”
I pretty much lost everything but my paddle. For boaters on the South Fork of the American River, Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips' Dan Crandall, offers these tips, "Any gear lost to the river will more likely end up in the reservoirs below, but in much worse condition than when it left you. All gear such as throw ropes and dry bags should be tied in and your name and phone number on each piece of your gear are always sound pieces of advice and will help tremendously in your gear's return." Mine gear, however, was lost for good.

"Catch your breath,"  Erik said, I sensed the stress in his voice, "We will go when you're ready." He said while peering downstream searching the shoreline for the missing boat. With every moment it was getting further and further downstream.

No man with any sense is going to willingly jump back into a freezing river again.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Dripping, shaking and aching in pain, All I could say was "Let's go."
 I dove into the river clinging tightly to the playboats back handle. I didn't have time for fear and shook off the cold of the water. My goal was to push through or in my case be dragged over to the other side. Into another wave. It seemed to crash around us. I took gulps of air between plunges underwater. Losing track of time and feeling as the water and rocks beat down on my body.  Erik delivered me half-way and I had to swim the rest.

A lonely woman hiker watched the whole thing from the trail. As I climbed out of the river and limp up the side of the shore. She greeted me looking stunned.
"Should I call 911?" she asked.
 Still, out-breath and I shook my head no.
"Are you alright?"
I nodded and said breathlessly, "It's just another day on the North Fork of the American River."
"I almost died whitewater kayaking six years ago," she said with sympathy.
I laughed and said to her "It almost killed me today."
Then took off down the trail in search of Erik.

This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max on February 19, 2017. 

 

Want to see more about Outside Adventure to the Max. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram

SWIMMING LESSONS

Bogart: How'd you like it?
Hepburn: Like it?
Bogart: Whitewater rapids!
Hepburn: I never dreamed. . .
Bogart: I don't blame you for being scared -- not one bit. Nobody with good sense ain't scare of whitewater.
Hepburn: I never dreamed that any mere physical experience could be so stimulating.
-The African Queen 

Erik Allen looked at me sternly. Things needed to happen fast and now. I was soaking wet standing in swirling ankle-deep freezing water after being tossed about in the rapids of the North Fork of the American like a bobbing float toy. I had gathered enough strength to swim to the rocky shore and found some footing. The boat I had used was somewhere downstream, consequentially leaving me marooned on the wrong side of the river.  It was Groundhog's Day.

"You're going to have to swim across to the other side of the river," Erik said over the sound of the rushing water. "There is no trail here. We're on the wrong side dude!"

Moments before, I had suffered a classic boater's beat-down nightmare. Upstream, I had rolled and was forced to swim. I could still see the emerald wave moving in slow motion. It was curling, big, and looked ten feet tall. I was hypnotized by its size and power. I lost focus and froze, committing the cardinal sin of white-water kayaking.  I had stopped paddling just hoping to ride it out.

"Fearful or tentative paddling is often a self-fulfilling prophecy, " said Team Pyranha's Pete Delosa, "When we are afraid of what might happen when focus on that thing and thereby cause it to happen. It's better to paddle aggressively and stay focused on the desired outcome. This is, of course, easier said than done a lot of the time. But, when you're tense the boat isn't able to rock with the water under you. You and your boat can't move independent of each other and that's when you get knocked over."

There is a saying on the river that every paddler, even the good ones are in between swims. According to the Whitewater Rescue Institutes's Mike Johnston, "When you fall in whitewater, it's common to be held underwater for a few seconds. Time seems to slow down. It's sort of like the dog years ratio, one actual second of submersion seems like about seven seconds. When you need to breathe and can't, three seconds can seem like twenty. This isn't a long time at your desk but can feel like forever at the bottom of a rapid. Don't panic."

When I rolled and broke away from my kayak, I was on my back with my feet downstream.  I had one hand locked to my paddle and the other latched to the floundering boat as I bobbed along in the Class III torrent. The turbulent and aerated waves frothed and bounded dishing out their fury on my body and boat. Keeping my feet pointed downstream, I used my body to angle through the current maneuvering right or left, with the boat in front of me.  I kept my body long and streamlined to maneuver smoothly and efficiently. The goal now was not to get hurt.

"The world goes dark, " writer and adventurer Joe Kane said in his book Running the Amazon, a firsthand account of the only expedition ever to travel the entire 4,200-mile Amazon River from its source in Peru to the Atlantic Ocean, as he describes his swim through the abyss of churning rapids. "The river— the word hardly does justice to the churning mess enveloping you— the river tumbles you like so much laundry. It punches the air from your lungs. You're helpless. Swimming is a joke. You know for a fact that you are drowning. For the first time, you understand the strength of the insouciant monster that has swallowed you. Maybe you travel a hundred feet before you surface (the current is moving that fast). And another hundred feet—just short of a truly fearsome plunge, one that will surely kill you— before you see the rescue lines. You're hauled to shore wearing a sheepish grin and a look in your eye that is equal parts confusion, respect, and raw fear."

Erik was quick to my rescue after I had bounced like a floating beach ball through the big waves. "Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled out. In a moment of hesitation, I clung to my boat even tighter rolling into the fury of the rapid. People forget to emphasize that on single boat trips, the backup plan is always self-rescue. It's good risk management to apply the buddy system to every river trip.

Erik Allen has what they call the water gene. A former Navy medic, he has taken up adventure guiding as his true passion. He is at home on the water as he is on land. He often leads groups snowshoeing, camping, and hiking as well as kayaking. He is used to taking care of others while out in the wild.
"Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled again. I released my boat and watched it from the corners of my eyes drift away from me. "Give me your paddle!" I reached my paddle out from the waves. Erik snatched it from my hand. Then I swam with all my might to reach the back of his playboat. Stroke one, stroke two, and one more. The freezing water was leaving me breathless as his boat rushed ahead just out of reach. Another lunge forward and finally I caught his stern handle as the waves punched at me again and again. As I caught breaths of air between the trough of waves, I hung on tight to his boat as we were poured into a huge rapid.

Everyone should know about the potential for entrapment in moving water. I tried minimizing the risk of foot entrapment in moving water by keeping my feet up while hanging on the back of Eric's boat. My feet could act like hooks possibly to get caught between cracks in rocks or any type of nook or cranny on the bottom of the river. However, in this improvised swimming position with my hands forward clutching Eric's kayak, I banged my knee and shins against the rocks. You would think after soaking for thousands of years they would be a little softer, but as we all know, rocks are very hard.

"Now swim, swim!' Erik shouted. I had turned from being a defensive swimmer to an aggressive one. Aggressive swimming is used to get from point A to point B as fast as possible. I let his boat go and with the American crawl kicked it into high gear, setting a ferry angle to cross fast-moving current. Ferrying swimmers use the same techniques used when boating. Keep your head up so you can see where you are going, set a ferry angle and swim hard. Faster water uses a smaller angle and very slow water I could simply swim directly across at a 90 ° angle. As a former high school swimmer, I knew how to push my arms forward. Before long I found some shallow rushing water.
After that long swim, I was very tempted to stand up when I got close to the rocky and rough shore. The water was still moving very quickly and was deeper than my knees. Standing up to early I knew I could possibly get knocked down.  I took my time to stand when I found some decent footing. The only problem was it was on the wrong side of the river.

"You do not know how long you are in a river when the current moves swiftly. It seems a long time and it may be very short." Ernest Hemingway wrote in A Farewell to Arms. Joe Kane seems to follow it when he wrote, "That is River Lesson Number One. Everyone suffers it. And every time you get the least bit cocky, every time you think you have finally figured out what the river is all about, you suffer it all over again.”
I pretty much lost everything but my paddle. For boaters on the South Fork of the American River, Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips' Dan Crandall, offers these tips, "Any gear lost to the river will more likely end up in the reservoirs below, but in much worse condition than when it left you. All gear such as throw ropes and dry bags should be tied in and your name and phone number on each piece of your gear are always sound pieces of advice and will help tremendously in your gear's return." Mine gear, however, was lost for good.

"Catch your breath," Erik said, I sensed the stress in his voice, "We will go when you're ready." He said while peering downstream searching the shoreline for the missing boat. With every moment it was getting further and further downstream.

No man with any sense is going to willingly jump back into a freezing river again.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Dripping, shaking and aching in pain, All I could say was "Let's go."
 I dove into the river clinging tightly to the playboats back handle. I didn't have time for fear and shook off the cold of the water. My goal was to push through or in my case be dragged over to the other side. Into another wave. It seemed to crash around us. I took gulps of air between plunges underwater. Losing track of time and feeling as the water and rocks beat down on my body.  Erik delivered me halfway and I had to swim the rest.

A lonely woman hiker watched the whole thing from the trail. As I climbed out of the river and limp up the side of the shore. She greeted me looking stunned.
"Should I call 911?" she asked.
 Still, out-breath, and I shook my head no.
"Are you alright?"
I nodded and said breathlessly, "It's just another day on the North Fork of the American River."
"I almost died whitewater kayaking six years ago," she said with sympathy.
I laughed and said to her "It almost killed me today."
Then took off down the trail in search of Erik.

This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max on February 19, 2017. 

 

Want to see more about Outside Adventure to the Max. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram

OVER THE BOW: LAKE CLEMENTINE

The shows of the day, the dewy morning, the rainbow, mountains, orchards in blossom, stars, moonlight, shadows in still water, and the like, if too eagerly hunted, become shows merely, and mock us with their unreality. --Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have paddled Lake Clementine many times before. The Northern California's narrow Sierra foothills reservoir is a jewel to the area's paddling community.  The lake with its four-mile-long tapered waterway in the Auburn State Recreation Area has been enchanting boaters and hikers for decades. Fed by the North Fork American River, the reservoir was formed in 1939 when the Army Corps of Engineers built the dam to prevent gold mining debris from flowing downstream.

"Thus, the reservoir's water level remains the same year round," stated in an excerpt from The American River Insider's Guide to Recreation, Ecology and Cultural History of the North Middle and South Forks, "Wildlife tucks itself into the quiet forested water along the shore; riparian plant growth is thick an lush. There are precious few reservoirs in all California that have and hold their beauty like Clementine, whose stillness contrasts elegantly with the surging wild waters upstream."

Paddling here is relatively easy on these still and transparent waters. There is almost no current except at the upper part of the lake. Even then on most of the times I've have visited, the current has been just a gentle tug where the clear and cool North Fork begins to intertwine with the lake body.

On the lower part, Robber's Roost towering 1,457-foot piece of limestone outcropping dominates the view. Under this giant rock, the lake pools in a calmness before rushing over the spillway of the dam. It's winter, and gone are the speedboats and skiers, who usually come here to play.
When paddling here, it's best to come early or stay late to dodge those blustery winds that tend to kick up usually in the early afternoon. They have a way of tiring out paddlers on the return trip to the boat ramp. But this past weekend, the sky was clear and breathless. The waters of a lake were absolutely still. There was not so much as ripple as the lake reflected the trees, hills, the sky, and everything around it perfectly.

My Bayside Adventure Sports paddling partner John Taylor welcomed the quiet placidity of the lake. In a message on Facebook, he wrote, "Usually, this lake is very windy in the afternoons, but we got lucky what with a very calm day without much of a breeze. Once the sun was clouded over the temperature dropped over 15 degrees at the end. Great day paddling, 10+ miles paddled, and my arms feel it too!!!"

Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, we would love to see it. Submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

Duncan Mine: Class V Kayaking With Carson Lindsay

Outside Adventure to the Max friend Scott Blankenfeld is excited about his new projects showcasing athletes doing their thing on their home turf. Along with Robby Hogg, he created Duncan Mine, a Northern California Production Company, last year and began producing videos

In the first of their series, they profiled area world-class kayaker Carson Lindsay on the South Fork of the Yuba River near Donner Summit in California's Sierra Nevada.

"It's was pretty impressive watching him paddle these rapids at ease, considering he was basically paddling solo the entire time," wrote Blankenfeld in an email, "Growing up in Truckee, CA, this run is where he honed his whitewater kayaking skills and first started running Class V whitewater."

Courtesy of Scott Blankenfled

Blankenfled who spends his summers on the water following the action on the North, Middle and South Forks of the American River photographing whitewater rafting is looking forward to featuring more of these extreme athletes.

"We are looking to take this series across several different sports including Skiing/Snowboarding, Mountain Biking, Running, Surfing, etc," wrote Blankenfeld, "Each segment will highlight a new personality, sport, and location."
You can learn about Ducan Mine at www.duncanmine.com.  To follow Blankenfled and to check out more of his images go to www.scottblankenfeld.com. 

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THE AUBURN RIVER FESTIVAL

For the past decade, Northern California's North Fork of American of the River and its Auburn Whitewater Park has been mostly passed over by the area boating community. More often than not, lock gates and difficult access or several miles of flat-water paddling have made passing through the decommissioned dam site and man-made rapids less than ideal for paddlers.
However, the Auburn River Festival team wants to change all that by showcasing that portion of the river and its waterpark.


“We want to celebrate the beauty of the American River,” said Alex Wolfgram, the director of Auburn River Festival told The Mountain Democrat,“This is a festival to make people aware of the whitewater park and a celebration of a free-flowing river on the site of a decommissioned dam that’s been repurposed for recreation.” 

Who doesn't love a whitewater festival? Last weekend's event brought together some 60 whitewater paddlers from throughout the region to compete in a variety of river competitions. For spectators, it was a free community party, that also featured six live bands, food vendors, community information booths,  a silent auction and activities for kids.

The main attraction, of course, was the river. Located downstream from the North Fork and Middle Fork confluence at the former dam's foundation, the whitewater park features a continuous series of five man-made drops that become increasingly difficult from start to bottom. A special release was negotiated with the Placer County Water Agency provided an extra surge for surfing waves.

"They delivered. I really want to thank those guys, " said Wolfgram, "The paddlers showed up. Which is what we wanted and I think the water showed up, which was great. I think everyone was pretty blown away at the level of whitewater and the awesomeness of the event.  Everyone was really stoked. I think it definitely pushed the limits for some of our paddlers "

For whitewater boaters, the Auburn River Festival was special. It was an excuse to see the old crew and meet new friends, paddle a new stretch river, catch some big water and simply celebrate the act of kayaking.

"It was awesome." said Grass Valley, paddler Caitlin Scheder, "It was all-around a good day. There was really fun paddling. There was a lot of good stoke. Everyone was really excited. I spent most of my time on the water, but I heard the music too. And it sounded really good."

The festival had three traditional kayaking competitions including a downriver race, slalom races, an Olympic event and the fan favorite, whitewater rodeo, giving everyone a taste of the river.

"The water park was really fun," said Scheder, "I don't live that far away, I wish it were open more. You can surf all the waves. You can practice your salmon.  There are not many salomon courses around so it's really cool. It was really fun and I'm really happy!"

Festival organizers look toward the future hoping to make this celebration an annual event to help create awareness of the recreational opportunities in the Auburn State Recreation Area.

"We had a great turn out today," said Wolfgram, "I say maybe 1,000 people. It was a lot of work, but it's great for getting people together to help protect the river. Hopefully, we can have a successful event like this in the years to come."

All the profits from Auburn River Festival will be donated to Protect American River Canyons (PARC) whose organizational mission is to "protect the natural, recreational, and cultural resources of the North and Middle Fork American River Canyons for all to care for and enjoy." For more information on the Auburn River Festival check out AuburnRiverFestival.com

OVER THE BOW: UPPER LAKE CLEMENTINE

The life of the wood, meadow, and lake go on without us. Flowers bloom, set seed and die back; squirrels hide nuts in the fall and scold all year long; bobcats track the snowy lake in winter; deer browse the willow shoots in spring. Humans are but intruders who have presumed the right to be observers, and who, out of observation, find understanding.  -- Ann Zwinger

There are two factors that are relied on when getting images of wildlife. The first is patience. Getting up close to wild animals with an elusive nature proves to be challenging. You can’t ask them to look this way or stand where the light is better. Be prepared to wait and watch for that perfect moment. As a consequence, the longer you spend watching them the more you to know about them.

“You have to be really patient,” National Geographic photographer Joel Sartore told PBS, “ Most shoots I’m covered with bugs. Most of the time it's physically miserable, and if you weren’t wound tight like me to get good pictures, why in the world would you ever do something like this? I don’t think you could stand it!”
Over last decade Sartore focus has been a project he calls the Photo Ark, the world’s largest collection of animal studio portraits. His goal is simple: to get the public to care and save species from extinction.

"That’s what the Photo Ark really is about,” Sartore said about the series. “It's hoped that people will fall in love with these things, want to learn about what happened to the species, what they can do to save it and then realize that it ties directly back into their own lives. I think we should show good stewardship to all species, great and small. Clearly, the best course of action is to protect entire ecosystems so that individual species don’t get into trouble in the first place."

I don't claim to be a wildlife photographer. Sometimes it's just luck. Getting up close to skittish wild animals in nature can be both challenging and immensely frustrating, especially when relying on waterproof point and shoot camera. However being able to glide silently through the water in a kayak I'm able to observe and shoot images from without disrupting them in their natural habitat. Sometimes I find the animal is just as curious about me as I am them.

That was the case while on a recent paddling trip on Lake Clementine. The lake is a four-mile-long and narrow waterway in Northern California's Auburn State Recreation Area, fed by the North Fork American River. It was formed in 1939 when the Army Corps of Engineers built the dam to prevent gold mining debris from flowing downstream.

Paddling around the bend near the upper portion of the lake, I happened upon a bobcat on the high back eyeing a pair of geese in the water below. As I came closer, its attention drifted towards me and my boat.

Seldom seen, these elusive and nocturnal wildcats roam throughout much of North America and adapt well to such diverse habitats. Stealthy solitary hunters, they survive on diet of rabbits and ground squirrels by using their long legs, large paws to pounce on their prey. Named for its tail, which appears to be cut or “bobbed.”

An important character in Native American folklore claims the bobcat doesn't show itself without reason. Traditional stories say the sighting of a bobcat is very powerful medicine. The bobcat plays a very negative role in the legends of some tribes. It is considered bad luck to see a one. He is greedy, selfish, and disregards social rules, while others believe dreaming about strong and agile animal would grant them special powers and superior hunting skills. Often parabled opposite of the coyote, the bobcat is associated with the fog because of its hidden and secretive nature while the coyote represents natural forces the wind.

Interpretations of bobcats sightings vary. For many that are not tuned in spiritually, seeing the animal is a thing of chance. Of course, I don't think that.  When I'm out on the water the mysterious properties nature and theology always immerses me. So maybe it wasn't luck, the bobcat was not a coincidence but a lesson received in silence.

It's a sign to reflect and regain our energy. As a solitary creature, the bobcat inherently knows this and is trying to tell us to break away and take time for ourselves. To seek quiet moments to ask ourselves some meaningful questions and think about what matters most. In our noisy lives filled with people, things and media, we all need an escape and chance to seek our own solitude.

After a while, the bobcat's patience with our face to face encounter fades. It decides to move to higher ground and into the shelter of the Ponderosa pine looking back over its shoulder from time to time, watching me before disappearing like the fog into the cover of the hills

Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, we would love to see it. Submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

OVER THE BOW: LAKE CLEMENTINE

Photo by Gareth Tate

The might and power of water are on display once again this winter as another series of storms blow through California dumping rain and snow across the state's northern tier.
A large portion of the Oroville Dam Spillway unexpectedly eroded away during this week's rain Department of Water Resources employees noticed pieces of concrete during a water release from Lake Oroville, the release was halted and water officials discovered about 200 to 300 feet of the spillway disappeared. Officials say Lake Oroville has enough storage to handle storms over the next three days. There is no imminent danger to the public

Meanwhile, the flow out of the Nimbus Dam was increased to 15,000 cubic feet of water per second earlier this week and is scheduled to more than double to 35,000 cubic feet per second from Lake Natoma by the end this week.
"The increased releases are based on changing conditions and are necessary to maintain space in Folsom Reservoir for projected Sierra runoff," the Bureau of Reclamation said in a news release. "Current storage in the reservoir is around 158 percent of its 15-year average for December."
Low-lying portions of the American River Parkway will likely be closed for a second time this winter, due to flooding, along with the Campus Commons golf course and Discovery Park.

At the rain-swollen Lake Clementine near Auburn, the cascade over the North Fork Dam roars like a mini-Niagara Falls of aquatic force echoing through the canyon and drawing river watchers like Gareth Tate.

"After seeing the amount of overflow going over the dam," wrote Truckee based photographer and kayaker, Tate in an email to Outside Adventure to the Max, "I decided to take out my drone and go for a flight. Quite a beautiful perspective of this rare scene."

The lake is a four-mile-long and narrow waterway in the popular Auburn State Recreation Area, fed by the North Fork American River. It was formed in 1939 when the Army Corps of Engineers built the dam to prevent gold mining debris from flowing downstream. A short hike upstream from the 730-foot-tall Foresthill Bridge, the highest bridge in California, the lake is popular for boaters and water-skiers during the summer months. However, like many of state's flooded waterways, this winter visiting the lake is not advised till the water resides.

"Although the flooding can be damaging," wrote Tate, "It is hard not to feel a sense of relief for California with this record-breaking snow and rain season. My fingers stay crossed that temps will stay cold for the rest of the storms this year so that the water can stay stored as snow and released gradually but after the last few years it is awesome to see the rivers so full."

You can check out more about Gareth Tate and images and videos on Facebook

Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

SWIMMING LESSONS

Bogart: How'd you like it?
Hepburn: Like it?
Bogart: Whitewater rapids!
Hepburn: I never dreamed. . .
Bogart: I don't blame you for being scared -- not one bit. Nobody with good sense ain't scare of whitewater.
Hepburn: I never dreamed that any mere physical experience could be so stimulating.
-The African Queen 

Erik Allen looked at me sternly. Things needed to happen fast and now. I was soaking wet standing in swirling ankle-deep freezing water after being tossed about in the rapids of the North Fork of the American like a bobbing float toy. I had gathered enough strength to swim to the rocky shore and found some footing. The boat I had used was somewhere downstream, consequentially leaving me marooned on the wrong side of the river.  It was Ground Hog's Day.

"You're going to have to swim across to the other side of the river," Erik said over the sound of the rushing water. "There is no trail here. We're on the wrong side dude!"

Moments before,  I had suffered a  classic boater's beat down nightmare. Upstream, I had rolled and was forced to swim. I could still see the emerald wave moving in slow motion. It was curling, big and looked ten-feet tall. I was hypnotized by its size and power. I lost focus and froze, committing the cardinal sin of white-water kayaking.  I had stopped paddling just hoping to ride it out.

"Fearful or tentative paddling is often a self-fulfilling prophecy, " said Team Pyranha's Pete Delosa, "When we are afraid of what might happen when focus on that thing and thereby cause it to happen. It's better to paddle aggressively and stay focused on the desired outcome. This is, of course, easier said than done a lot of the time. But, when you're tense the boat isn't able to rock with the water under you. You and your boat can't move independent of each other and that's when you get knocked over."

There is a saying on the river that every paddler, even the good ones are in between swims. According to the Whitewater Rescue Institutes' Mike Johnston, "When you fall in whitewater, it's common to be held underwater for a few seconds. Time seems to slow down. It's sort of like the dog years ratio, one actual second of submersion seems like about seven seconds. When you need to breathe and can't, three seconds can seem like twenty. This isn't a long time at your desk but can feel like forever at the bottom of a rapid. Don't panic."

When I rolled and broke away from my kayak,  I was on my back with my feet downstream.  I had one hand locked to my paddle and the other latched to the floundering boat as I bobbed along in the Class III torrent. The turbulent and aerated waves frothed and bounded dishing out its fury on my body and boat. Keeping my feet pointed downstream, I  used my body to angle through the current maneuvering right or left, with the boat in front of me.  I kept my body long and streamlined to maneuver smoothly and efficiently. The goal now was not to get hurt.

"The world goes dark, " writer and adventurer Joe Kane said in his book Running the Amazon, a firsthand account of the only expedition ever to travel the entire 4,200-mile Amazon River from its source in Peru to the Atlantic Ocean, as he describes his swim through the abyss of churning rapids. "The river— the word hardly does justice to the churning mess enveloping you— the river tumbles you like so much laundry. It punches the air from your lungs. You're helpless. Swimming is a joke. You know for a fact that you are drowning. For the first time, you understand the strength of the insouciant monster that has swallowed you. Maybe you travel a hundred feet before you surface (the current is moving that fast). And another hundred feet—just short of a truly fearsome plunge, one that will surely kill you— before you see the rescue lines. You're hauled to shore wearing a sheepish grin and a look in your eye that is equal parts confusion, respect, and raw fear."

Erik was quick to my rescue after I had bounced like a floating beach ball through the big waves. "Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled out. In a moment of hesitation, I clung to my boat even tighter rolling into the fury of the rapid. People forget to emphasize that on single boat trips, the backup plan is always self-rescue. It's good risk management to apply the buddy system to every river trip.

Erik Allen has what they call the water gene. A former Navy medic,  he has taken up adventure guiding as his true passion. He is at home on the water as he is on land. He often leads groups snowshoeing, camping and hiking as well as kayaking. He is used to taking care of others while out in the wild.
"Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled again. I released my boat and watched it from the corners of my eyes drift away from me. "Give me your paddle!" I reached my paddle out from the waves. Erik snatched it from my hand. Then I swam with all my might to reach the back of his playboat. Stroke one, stroke two, and one more. The freezing water was leaving me breathless as his boat rushed ahead just out of reach. Another lunge forward and finally  I caught his stern handle as the waves punched at me again and again. As I caught breaths of air between the trough of waves,  I hung on tight to his boat as we were poured into a huge rapid.

Everyone should know about the potential for entrapment in moving water. I tried minimizing the risk of foot entrapment in moving water by keeping my feet up while hanging on the back of Eric's boat. My feet could act like hooks possibly to get caught between cracks in rocks or any type of nook or cranny on the bottom of the river. However in this improvised swimming position with my hands forward clutching Eric's kayak, I banged my knee and shins against the rocks. You would think after soaking for thousands of years they would be a little softer, but as we all know, rocks are very hard.

"Now swim, swim!' Erik shouted. I had turned from being a defensive swimmer to an aggressive one. Aggressive swimming is used to get from point A to point B as fast as possible. I let his boat go and with the American crawl kicked it into high gear,  setting a ferry angle to cross fast-moving current. Ferrying swimmers use the same techniques used when boating. Keep your head up so you can see where you are going, set a ferry angle and swim hard. Faster water uses a smaller angle and very slow water I could simply swim directly across at a 90 ° angle. As a former high school swimmer, I knew how to push my arms forward. Before long the I found some shallow rushing water.
After that long swim,  I was very tempted to stand up when I got close to the rocky and rough shore. The water was still moving very quickly and was deeper than my knees. Standing up to early I knew I could possibly get knocked down.  I took my time to stand when I found some decent footing. The only problem was it was on the wrong side of the river.

"You do not know how long you are in a river when the current moves swiftly. It seems a long time and it may be very short." Ernest Hemingway wrote in A Farewell to Arms. Joe Kane seems to follow it when he wrote, "That is River Lesson Number One. Everyone suffers it. And every time you get the least bit cocky, every time you think you have finally figured out what the river is all about, you suffer it all over again.”
I pretty much lost everything but my paddle. For boaters on the South Fork of the American River, Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips' Dan Crandall, offers these tips, "Any gear lost to the river will more likely end up in the reservoirs below, but in much worse condition than when it left you. All gear such as throw ropes and dry bags should be tied in and your name and phone number on each piece of your gear are always sound pieces of advice and will help tremendously in your gear's return." Mine gear, however, was lost for good.

"Catch your breath,"  Erik said, I sensed the stress in his voice, "We will go when you're ready." He said while peering downstream searching the shoreline for the missing boat. With every moment it was getting further and further downstream.

No man with any sense is going to willingly jump back into a freezing river again.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Dripping, shaking and aching in pain, All I could say was "Let's go."
 I dove into the river clinging tightly to the playboats back handle. I didn't have time for fear and shook off the cold of the water. My goal was to push through or in my case be dragged over to the other side. Into another wave. It seemed to crash around us. I took gulps of air between plunges underwater. Losing track of time and feeling as the water and rocks beat down on my body.  Erik delivered me half-way and I had to swim the rest.

A lonely woman hiker watched the whole thing from the trail. As I climbed out of the river and limp up the side of the shore. She greeted me looking stunned.
"Should I call 911?" she asked.
 Still, out-breath and I shook my head no.
"Are you alright?"
I nodded and said breathlessly, "It's just another day on the North Fork of the American River."
"I almost died whitewater kayaking six years ago," she said with sympathy.
I laughed and said to her "It almost killed me today."
Then took off down the trail in search of Erik.

OVER THE BOW: THE CONFLUENCE OF THE NORTH & MIDDLE FORK OF THE AMERICAN RIVER

We are deep at the bottom of this river of time, caught up in the current of the moment where all the rivers rendezvous.--- Lynn Noel

Over last summer and into fall, the water pouring into confluence of the North and Middle Forks of the American River part of Auburn SRA near Auburn, California, was almost nothing but a trickle. Downstream Folsom Lake stood at its lowest depth in history. As the water dried up, ruins of old towns were uncovered, boating speed limits were set and federal officials were engineering a special pumping system to make sure drinking water would keep flowing to Sacramento suburbs. However, after that long hot summer, the water flows have returned to the upper forks of the American River.

Following a month of persistent rain and snow in Northern California, lake levels are triple what they were in early December of last year. Due to runoff from recent rains in the foothills and Sierra, Folsom Lake rose to 104 percent of historical average earlier this week, with about 529,000 acre feet of water. Lake levels have rebounded so fast, in fact, that after four years of drought, officials at the Bureau of Reclamation, which manages the water in the reservoir are talking about releasing water downstream in the near future to mitigate flood risks caused by a wet winter and an increasingly full lake. "There are legal requirements for maintaining safe space in the reservoir," Louis Moore, spokesman for the Bureau of Reclamation told Fox 40 News. The Bureau of Reclamation is pleased with the amount of space available in Folsom Lake and say because the ground was so dry, much of the water from recent rains has soaked into the ground, giving the reservoir plenty of storage space despite recent heavy rains upstream.

Upstream at the confluence, plenty water means plenty of waves. Underneath the Highway 49 Bridge, after the two streams join, the river bends to the right, jaunts down the bank before smashing into the right edge of the river followed by a sharp bank in a sharp curve to the left. With enough cfs  a recirculating eddy develops offering area boaters an enjoyable surfing wave to either begin or end their journey at this popular put in or take out site.

Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

OVER THE BOW: THE CONFLUENCE OF THE NORTH & MIDDLE FORK OF THE AMERICAN RIVER

We are deep at the bottom of this river of time, caught up in the current of the moment where all the rivers rendezvous.--- Lynn Noel

Over last summer and into fall, the water pouring into the confluence of the North and Middle Forks of the American River part of Auburn SRA near Auburn, California, was almost nothing but a trickle. Downstream Folsom Lake stood at its lowest depth in history. As the water dried up, ruins of old towns were uncovered, boating speed limits were set and federal officials were engineering a special pumping system to make sure drinking water would keep flowing to Sacramento suburbs. However, after that long hot summer, the water flows have returned to the upper forks of the American River.

Following a month of persistent rain and snow in Northern California, lake levels are triple what they were in early December of last year. Due to runoff from recent rains in the foothills and Sierra, Folsom Lake rose to 104 percent of historical average earlier this week, with about 529,000-acre-feet of water. Lake levels have rebounded so fast, in fact, that after four years of drought, officials at the Bureau of Reclamation, which manages the water in the reservoir are talking about releasing water downstream in the near future to mitigate flood risks caused by a wet winter and an increasingly full lake. "There are legal requirements for maintaining safe space in the reservoir," Louis Moore, spokesman for the Bureau of Reclamation told Fox 40 News. The Bureau of Reclamation is pleased with the amount of space available in Folsom Lake and say because the ground was so dry, much of the water from recent rains have soaked into the ground, giving the reservoir plenty of storage space despite recent heavy rains upstream.

Upstream at the confluence, plenty water means plenty of waves. Underneath the Highway 49 Bridge, after the two streams join, the river bends to the right, jaunts down the bank before smashing into the right edge of the river followed by a sharp bank in a sharp curve to the left. With enough cfs a recirculating eddy develops offering area boaters an enjoyable surfing wave to either begin or end their journey at this popular put in or take out site.

Over the Bow is a feature from Outside Adventure to the Max, telling the story behind the image. If you have a great picture with a great story, submit it to us at nickayak@gmail.com

WEATHERING THE DROUGHT

As I approached the lake, the first thing that hit me is the size of the gaping gully a hundred or so yards below the boat ramp. We had already carried our kayaks down the long boat ramp and through the sand, grass and weeds in search of the lake access. Earlier this year, when the lake was full and showing signs of a hopeful summer, water lapped against the boat dock at the end of the ramp. Now looking parched and exposed, the route to the lake at Rattlesnake Bar is through a dusty and eroding narrow crack in the earth.


For many, the boating season is over. California State Parks have imposed a speed limit of 5 miles per hour (mph) at Folsom Lake State Recreation Area since mid-July. Water levels are low enough in many places to make for hazardous boating. The lake is being drawn down to record lows as part of a plan to rescue the endangered winter-run Chinook salmon along with providing water to the 200,000 people who rely on it daily.
"Visitors are welcome to come out and enjoy Folsom Lake,” said Superintendent Richard Preston of California State Parks. “We want to make sure our visitors are aware of the increase in underwater hazards as a result of the low water levels. We urge people to exercise extreme caution while boating on the lake, both for their safety and to prevent damage to their watercraft.”

The speed restriction is necessary because the low water level has brought rocks on the lake bed closer to the surface, placing boats in danger in the more shallow areas. It is critical for boaters to exercise caution and to keep a proper lookout for hazards. Its bad news for speed boaters, but it's an opportunity for kayaks, canoes and SUPs to explore areas of the lake that are usually underwater without heavy boat traffic. However, as we found out, it's a long way to the water's edge.

It's my paddling partner Carly Mariani's first time up the North Fork of the American River. I'm sure she expected a simple cruise around Lake Natoma instead of what I have in mind. Before the end of the day she will invent a new term "Hikayaking," a combination of hiking with your kayak.

We paddled along under a dazzling brilliant blue sky. From our kayak viewpoint, the lake forms into three layers. There is the blue of the water. The shoreline is a desolate layer with rocks and boulders arising from the depths and inhaling the sun for the first time. Overhead, a thin black bathtub ring lines the upper portions of the rust-colored canyon walls and stones revealing the former water mark. Above that lies the green and brown thirsty timberline and undergrowth.
The lakeshore now reminds me of the surface of the moon. Down towards the Granite Bay access, folks drive down to the water's edge across the baked and dehydrated lake bed devoid of any trees or vegetation. It is a winding trail through ruts, dips and boulders to get to the lakefront. For now, at least, there is some water.


In the fourth year of the California drought, some lakes and river areas are a gurgle of their former selves. The dwindling Kern and Truckee rivers have ended the boating and tubing seasons before the summer ever began. The Kern River Festival, which draws hundreds of professional and recreational paddlers each year, was canceled this spring for the first time in 51 years, while the Reno River Festival's signature kayaking competitions also were dropped.
"It's the worst drought we've seen in the 30 years we've been here," Tom Moore of Sierra South Paddle Sports told the LA Times, "We've sunk to new lows. "
Drydocks, barren landscapes with landlocked boats and boat ramps in puddles are some of the sights seen in the California Department of Water Resources' new aerial video shot above lakes Oroville, Shasta and Folsom reservoir. Their only hopes for more water cling to the expectation of this winter's El Niño forecast.

We ascended the North Fork much like climbing up an assemblage of steps. In places, the river is a trickle strangled through small rapids between placid pools. At each rapid we approach, we were forced to get out and wade through the rushing water. Footing was uneven and slippery. When the lake was higher, earlier in the spring, it was a relaxing upstream paddle. Now it's a shallow rocky fast-moving stream between pools. I reminded Carly over and over that the portages are a fun and exciting way to view the river as we will be well rewarded with a fun bouncy ride back on the return trip.


As we wondered about the next rapid on the horizon, weather forecasters are pondering El Niño. For months, climate scientists have said El Niño is likely to bring more rain to California this winter, The biggest question is, how much moisture and where will it fall?
“It’s still a bit premature to know if we’re going to have strong El Niño conditions during our wet season this winter, but the probabilities are increasing toward 80 percent or something,” told Marty Ralph, a climatologist with the Scripps Institution of Oceanography to NBC 7 San Diego.
After studying California weather for 25 years, he says this summer resembles the lead up to the strong El Niño of 1997-1998 when storms battered Golden State. Still, he believes it’s premature to say we’re in store for another winter like that one. “Wishcasting doesn’t mean it won’t happen."


Near the bone-dry Pilot Creek about 3 miles from Rattlesnake Bar, we found a nice-sized pool below a wave train of newly uncovered Class I rapids. Here a large rock with turtle-shaped head peers over the deep and blue water. This is where the river turns toward the east, and where our trip upriver stops.

In the springtime when the lake was high, I paddled further, but now we had to settle here.
After a snack and swim we will enjoy a quick jaunt back down river. The Class I and II flows, despite the drought, made for a fun exciting ride back to the lake.
To learn about all the actions California has taken to manage the water system and cope with the impacts of the drought, visit Drought.CA.Gov.