AULD LANG SYNE

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne.

The old Scottish song 'Auld Lang Syne' will usher in the new year again, as it sang all over the world at the stroke of twelve on New Year's Eve. The phrase Auld Lang Syne translated means, for old times' sake. The song evokes the spirit of friendship over the past year and raises hopes for a brighter future in the new year.
Let's hope so. I do not have to tell anyone, but 2021 was pretty rough for many. The Covid-19 pandemic continues to linger. The highly contagious Omicron variant is only making it worse, as the average number of daily US Covid-19 cases are reaching new pandemic highs during the holidays. Dr. Anthony Fauci suggests that people opt for smaller gatherings with vaccinated and boosted family and friends rather than attending large-scale New Year’s Eve celebrations.
For some of us, we will be outside enjoying an end-of-year kayak tour on the lake or kicking off the year in style on a Polar Bear paddling event. Just obey the same rules as last year. Socially distances, wear a max and stay safe.

After a year of extreme drought that triggered water shortages and stoked wildfires, rain and heavy snows are falling over Northern California. This past week nearly 17 feet of snow has fallen over the Lake Tahoe area breaking decades-old records as the snowiest December on record. Roads were closed, ski resorts were shut down, and avalanche warnings were issued as the Tahoe Basin was buried in much-needed snow.
And what a difference a few storms make! After more than a year of being well-below average, water levels at Folsom Lake are filling up at a rate of enough water to fill 400 backyard swimming pools every minute. That's a lot of water. So much so, that even though the reservoir is just above half-filled, the Bureau of Reclamation is releasing water from it. Dam officials say that with more storms are coming the water level is near the maximum allowed at this time of year for flood protection. The water is flowing through Nimbus Dam and downstream. The releases will raise river levels on the American River Parkway. While the release will have a minor impact, people venturing out onto the river should beware.

As 2021 now comes to an end, it's time to look back at all our paddling memories and leap forward in planning new adventures. And as the rain hits my window, I'll take that as a good sign we might have more water this year than last. At least, that is my hope.
One of the side effects of the pandemic has been the explosion of participants in paddling sports. The numbers have swelled as people have flocked to the waterways to escape the constraints of the global coronavirus pandemic.
From us old veterans, we say welcome. The paddling community is here for you. We will look forward to helping you and inspiring you as you continue paddling the rivers and lakes.  

Paddle Day #107
I paddled not even close to my record of 152 paddling days in the calendar year. But I did get to some new places and enjoyed some of the old ones. I started on California's Lake Natoma with Bayside Adventure Sports and finished the year with them as well on Lake Natoma. Without a doubt, I'm looking forward to leaving 2021 behind while eagerly anticipating an exciting new year in 2022.

                                And here's a hand my trusty friend

That gives a hand to thine

We'll take a cup of kindness yet

For auld lang syne

Happy New Year

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IT'S A WONDERFUL KAYAKING LIFE

Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends. ---It's A Wonderful Life

It never surprises me that the kayak community is much like the fictional town of Bedford Falls in Jimmy Stewart's classic Christmas movie "It's a Wonderful Life". In the movie, Stewart's character George Bailey was at the end of his rope and, all seemed lost. But at the end of the film, he wasn't thrown just one lifeline, but instead, hundreds as his family and friends from the town rallied around him by donating more than enough money to cover the missing funds and pulling him out of the depths of despair. His brother raises his glass and toasts George as "the richest man in town" while he receives a book with a note reminding him that no man is a failure who has friends.

I think we've all been there. Certainly, I have. I can't remember all the times I have been helped out by others while kayaking on the river or lake. When I forgot my paddle, need a boat? No problem, someone came through. When I needed a bit of help loading or unloading, the same thing someone came through. Once, I didn't want to be a burden to the paddling group and watched my whitewater boat float away on an untimely swim when I even turned down the help. I can handle I said. Which was not the case. It didn't matter. The paddling friend ignored my plea and helped gather my boat and gear anyway. 

Kayaker Scott Lindgren, the subject of the documentary film, “The River Runner” was released on Netflix. It takes an up-close look at Lindgren's amazing career as one of the world's most premier whitewater kayakers and his raging first descents on the epic and burly waterways of the world. In his prime, no challenge was too great, no drop was too big.
But it also gives a portrait of a paddler struggling with substance abuse and later a brain tumor that would capsize his kayaking career for ten years.
During the movie, Lindgren found that while the river gave fury, it also offered healing. Next-generation paddler Aniol Serrasolses presented him with an opportunity he had been waiting his whole life for, a run down a Himalayan river known as the Indus. It would be the final chapter in Lindgren's epic quest of running the fabled four rivers of Western Tibet's Mount Kailash.

"The fact that Aniol would consider inviting an old broken-down boater into his world blew me away," wrote Lindgren in Outside Magazine, "He was offering me something I never would have offered anyone in my condition when I was his age."

In his months of training, Lindgren wrote how the younger paddlers rallied around offering help, encouragement, and but mostly hope.
"The kids didn’t just teach me how to kayak again, they helped me open my heart," wrote Lindgren in the article.

When doctors told him the tumor had grown, Lindgren had a decision. Resume treatment or continue training. He chose kayaking. He skipped radiation, canceled his doctor appointments, and channeled his energy for the Indus run.
After what he described as a white-knuckle week through massive mountain peaks and the equally massive river, Lindgren completed his life-long dream. Realizing that, he leaned forward and put his head on the deck of his boat and wept.
And like a Christmas movie, three days after returning from the trip, he went back to the hospital for an MRI and found that his tumor had stabilized and there was no growth. The river indeed had offered healing.

Lindgren's is just one of the many paddlers helped by other paddlers. There are countless more stories out there. Many paddlers and non-profit organizations provide support and opportunities to wounded veterans and other adaptive sports programs. There are paddling groups that encourage diversification on the water. They organize welcoming paddling events for people of color to expand our paddling community that has traditionally drawn primarily white participants. And other paddlers are volunteering in thousands of river or lake cleanups across the country to remove litter and debris from our waterways. As I have said before, everyone is a friend when they have a paddle in their hand.

"Everyone recognized that we’d all have good days and bad days, and that there no shame in scaling it back when we weren’t feeling 100 percent, physically or mentally," Lindgren offered this perspective in Outside Magazine article, "The approach helped me measure my kayaking—and my life—not in wins and losses, but in whether I showed up with an open heart. If I had a bad day, I told myself it was my turn for the universe to kick my ass. If I had a good day, I enjoyed the flow of life. It was all so simple."

This Christmas, I would like to send a big thanks out to my paddling family for helping me paddle through another year. Thanks to Dan Crandall and the other superstars on Current Adventures Kayaking School and Trips, who have been there for guidance and encouragement. I look forward to returning a 2022 schedule of classes, tours, and moonlit paddles.
To the rangers and staff of Sly Park Recreation Area, thank you. I certainly hope for another successful season on shimmering Lake Jenkinson this year, with more water and no forest fires.
I lost count of my paddling events with Bayside Adventure Sports this past year. The highlights of our year included our annual Lower American River run, our camping kayaking trip to Loon Lake, and our always popular sunset and moonlit paddles on our area's lakes. Of course, none of it would have been possible without our leaders, John Taylor and Randy Kizer. Sure, I had some great ideas, but those two made it happen. I have more trips and adventures planned for the upcoming year.
My wife, Debbie, is and will always be my guiding light and inspiration. She has a deep devotion to God and love for everything living both great and small, like the starving kitten that found its way to our doorstep. I continue to strive to be like her in mind and spirit. We are both excited about being grandparents now.

And I would like to thank our faithful readers of Outside Adventure to the Max. I hope the future is now brighter for you all.

Merry Christmas

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2021 IN REVIEW: PICTURES OF THE YEAR

Before we take to the sea, we walk on land ... Before we create, we must understand. --- Ernest Hemingway

 
Cruising on a Carnival Cruise through the Bahamas really isn't the type of cruise. I'm a river guy more used to trail mix, power bars, and Hydro Flask half full of water, not an endless buffet and a boat I don't have to paddle. Still, who can argue with luxury, exotic ports of calls, and an endless buffet line?

Carnival Cruise

In all of my paddling days, I've never have lost sight of land. So, it was interesting to be out on the upper deck of the giant ship looking over the bow into the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Clearly an overpowering feeling of aloneness. I could help to think of those intrepid paddlers that have braved these vast seas, like famed Polish adventurer Aleksander Doba against this giant ocean, alone. He made three daring voyages earned him Guinness World Records titles, and in 2017 he became the oldest person to kayak across the Atlantic. "During the entire expedition lasting 110 days and nights," said Doba in an interview, "I survived 5 storms. One of them was special. It was 8, 9, and 10 on the Beaufort scale. The waves went up to 10 m. I know that no one had survived a storm like that in such a small vessel ever before. I proved that a Pole can do it! I was happy I got to survive a storm like that, although it lasted over two days and nights, and it was not easy."

Walking along the sandy beaches of Bimini, our first port of call, was pretty cool. Bimini is the westernmost island of the Bahamas. Located about 50 miles east of Miami, Florida, it's the closest point of the Bahamas to the mainland of the United States.
It was a favorite haunt of legendary author Ernest Hemingway. An avid outdoorsman and adventurer, Hemingway lived on Bimini from 1935 to 1937. While living there, he enjoyed fishing the deep blue offshore waters for marlin, tuna, and swordfish. It was from those fishing days that inspired his classics works of The Old Man and the Sea and Islands in The Stream.
In the opening chapter of Islands in The Stream, he wrote this about Bimini, "The water of the Stream was usually a dark blue when you look out at it when there was no wind. But when you walked out into it, there was just the green light of the water over that floury white sand, and you could see the shadow of any big fish a long time before he could ever come in close to the beach."

Like Doba, Hemingway had an intense passion for daring exploits and was always in search of his next big adrenaline-fueled adventure. 

Tybee Island with KDK

And while for me, 2021 wasn't that dauntless, I did gain some new invaluable new perspectives and insights during my experiences while traveling on land, sea, rivers, and lakes.
This year, my wife Debbie and I did get to some new places. We took a trip to Cancun, Mexico, a cruise through the Bahamas to the Dominican Republic. Going coast to coast this year, we took another cruise and sailed along the Seattle skyline in Elliot Bay and took a walk along the beach with my granddaughter on Tybee Island in Georgia. In May, another big trip. On the way back from North Dakota to see family, we went cross-country. We traveled through the Black Hills of South Dakota and along the old Oregon and California trails on the way home.

While I have been living in California for almost nine years now, I still feel a bit like a tourist. There is so much to do and see in this state. I explored Slab Creek for the first time, saw a bit more of the Mokelumne River, and finally made it down the famed Gorge of the South Fork of the American River. I snowshoed through the China Wall train tunnels at Donner Pass near Truckee, California, and logged another section of the Sacramento River south of Red Bluff. 

South Fork Whitewater

I also made a return trip to Loon Lake with Bayside Adventure Sports and enjoyed some great days on the Lower American River, Lake Natoma, and Lake Clementine. The Caldor Fire cut short my season on Lake Jenkinson with Sly Park Paddle Rentals, but now as the rain and snow have now returned to California, I look forward to a fabulous summer on the lake once again next year.

My desire to travel and experience the cultures of this world only grows with age. My long list of travels to all these splendid destinations this year will have a lasting influence on me for some time to come. I will forever remember the beauty and grandeur of these places. I can only hope that my pictures have somehow captured the spirit of these whereabouts.
Hemingway wrote, "It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end."
These travels have only fueled my yearnings for more adventures in years to come. And as the saying goes, as one chapter ends, another one begins. And I'll add, and the journey never ends.

Loon Lake with Bayside Adventure Sports

John Taylor at Loon Lake 

Lake Lodi

Lake Jenkinson 

Lower American River

Lake Clementine 

Lower American River

The Salt Flats of Utah 

Folsom Lake 

Glow Paddle on Lake Natoma

Slab Creek 

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A SHOW OF NATURE

These little fur balls are very good swimmers and can stay underwater for three to four minutes at a time. Otters are very much like young boys and girls because they spend most of their time playing. --- Michael R. Greyson

Usually the term, "a show of nature" refers to something dramatic such as a hurricane, tornado, or volcanic eruption. It's often portrayed in the media as a violent display of weather or animal savagery showing man's insignificant to his environment. When we see something like that, whether in person or on TV, we are intrigued, astounded, and maybe shocked by what we are seeing. Nature has power. Nature has force. Nature has fury.

"Nature has many tricks wherewith she convinces man of his finity, - the ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of a storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long roll of heavens artillery," wrote writer Jack London in The White Silence.

 

But as we all know, the wonder of nature can display calmness, quiet serenity, and enchanting and amusing spectacles, just like my trip to my neighborhood lake last month. Thanksgiving Day was clear and bright as I paddled out of the Willow Creek access of Lake Natoma, located within the Folsom Lake SRA, east of Sacramento. It's a 5-mile-long reservoir of the American River and the favorite spot paddling of many. And even on Thanksgiving, many paddlers were taking a pre-feast trek around the lake on their kayaks and paddleboards. 

The fluctuating lake level was about normal for this time of the year. It has been a dry month since the aspheric river storm in October raised my hopes for wet weather and snow this season. I had high expectations after a series of storms had dumped snow and rain over Northern California. But looking eastward toward the Sierra, the mountains looked barren. The ski resorts that had hoped to open up for the Thanksgiving weekend would remain shut down for a while longer.

The slow speed and the quiet nature of my kayak make it ideal for viewing wildlife while paddling along the shoreline of the lake. Despite being so close to an urban setting, ducks, geese, and deer are at home and can be seen here all year long. However, just downstream on the other side of the dam, the salmon are returning as part of their annual migration. For centuries the salmon had spawning grounds of over 100 miles in the American River and its tributaries. But with Nimbus Dam, the dam that creates Lake Natoma, for thousands, their journey will end at the new fish ladder of the Nimbus Hatchery. Designed to let the fish swim up and around, and access more of the historical habitat in the river and enter the hatchery through a much longer flume trail along the American River. Equipped with 9 large viewing windows open for public viewing daily, offering a great show every day this time of the year.
Early in the week, my wife Debbie and I walked down to the fish ladder. We watched the salmon congregate in the pool in front of the ladder and periodically leap toward the gate. It was an amazing display of nature.

Paddling out onto Lake Natoma, the was lake was flat and calm. Looking out over the water, I spotted what looked like large ripples brimming across the surface of the water. Usually, such ripples were caused by the neighboring geese and ducks. But this time, I saw no birds, but large black hairless noses breaking the surface of the water. I gradually moved in closer and closer with my kayak to watch the family of otters swim and feast on their lake dinner. River otters primarily eat fish but, on that day, they were eating whatever was easiest to catch in the lake, like crayfish, frogs, and other aquatic invertebrates.

Up-and-down they bobbed effortlessly, treading water and emerging their heads out of the water, snorting and blowing to clear their nostrils. Excellent swimmers, the otters have long, narrow bodies and flattened streamlined heads. They are equipped with long thick tails about a third of their body length that propels them through the water and protective fur to help them keep warm in cold waters.
I counted six of them swimming along with me. They seemed as curious about me as I was about them. That is as long as I didn't get too close. I did my best to keep my distance. They swam about the sliver stream before climbing onto the shore to romp around a bit where I could get a better look and a few pictures. Just above them on the bike trail, a group of bicyclists pedaled by. I couldn't help to think how they were all missing on this great show of nature and that I had it all to my own.

Meanwhile, the otters had were more intent on having more of a lake feast and even more watery fun. Outdoor writer Sigurd Olson wrote after a similar encounter with some river otters, "In the wild one can never mistake an otter group at play, they're slipping in-and-out of the water their seal alike antics." They seemed to be just that as they splashed one after another back into the lake in what looked like a game of following the leader. They swam away in the opposite direction, leaving me with a smile after enjoying one of nature's shows.

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