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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SACRAMENTO RIVER & VIDEO

Far below, the river frothed and flowed over pebbly shallows, or broke tumultuously over boulders and cascades, in its race for the great valley they had left behind. ---Jack London

There is no better way to get away from it all than to get out on the water on a long-distance kayak trip down the upper part of the Sacramento River. The upper reaches of the river is a paddler's paradise with fast and dependable flows, changing scenery with views of Mount Shasta, Lassen Peak, and a sense of serenity while floating along on California's longest river.

Last week, while scouting out a trip for next year for the faith-based Sacramento group Bayside Adventure Sports, we paddled the 11-mile section of the river from Mill Creek Park near Los Molinos to Tahema County River Park and Woodson Bridge State Park Recreation Area about 20 miles north of Chico.

While it certainly isn't the most complicated section of the river, it does offer an ideal way for beginners to experience paddling the river. While it had a few ripples, we mostly just dodged a lot of submerged tree stags along the way. Still, the river's clear water pushed us along briskly around each bend. We weaved under only two highway bridges at the beginning and end of this semi-remote section of the river. We nodded and waved to fishermen along the way and also saw our share of turkey vultures, red-tailed hawks, and two promenade colonies of pelicans.

The put-in and the take-out were uncrowded for our October trip on the river when most recommend paddling is best, escaping the summer heat. 

"It was really nice. It was fun. It was exciting. It was everything you expect on a river trip. I can't wait to come back next year and do this with a bunch of people because it was so much fun," said Bayside Sports Paddling leader John Taylor. 

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KAYAK SUMMER 2021

Above the mountains which lay beyond the further shore, the sky was murky with the smoke of unseen forest fires, and through this the afternoon sun broke feebly, throwing a vague radiance to earth, and unreal shadows. To the sky-line of the four quarters--spruce-shrouded islands, dark water, and ice-scarred rocky ridges--stretched the immaculate wilderness. --- Jack London

When summer arrived as Jack London wrote in the Call of The Wild, it's time for us to pack our backs, "Rafted across blue mountain lakes, and descended or ascended unknown rivers in slender boats whip-sawed from the standing forest....through the uncharted vastness."
In Call of the Wild, London tells the beloved classic tale of Buck's (a mix of St. Bernard and Scotch collie) transition from a kidnapped pampered pup to Klondike sled dog to his evolution to embrace the deeper parts of his wilder side. 

Lake Jenkinson

"Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest,” wrote London of the Buck's instinctual call of the wilderness.
For those of us with a wanderlust soul, London's words stir our senses of adventure. For some, we have that need to answer that call of the wild. When summertime, comes it is our time to pack our packs, load our boats, and journey into the world around us. However, London's darker views can convolute our ideals of the inspiring novelist writing about dogs and the Alaskan frontier. In his time, London was an unashamed racist and a prominent advocate of socialism, casting a problematic shadow over his love of the wilderness and making him a bit more a complicated storyteller.

Much like London, summertime 2021 brought plenty of contradictions and complications to the great outdoors. Even as summer ends this year, we still don't have a handle on the Covid-19 pandemic. As the Delta variant increases, there is still a debate on getting the vaccine and wearing masks. Still the due to the upheaval from COVID-19, Americans across the country took to the outdoors. The 2021 Outdoor Participation Trends Report, commissioned by the Outdoor Foundation, reveals that in 2020, 53 percent of Americans ages six and over participated in outdoor recreation at least once, the highest participation rate on record. Some 7.1 million more Americans participated in outdoor recreation in 2020 than in the year prior. 

Lake Jenkinson

And it's secret that a lot of those folks headed to the water, and paddle sports sales exploded.
And as the paddling industry boom and people flocked to the water, there is still a huge lack of diversity. According to the same report, nearly 75 percent of outdoor participants were white. Participation rates declined 7 percent annually among Asian Americans for the past three years; stagnated for the last three years among Blacks and grew among Hispanics but remained well below whites.
Fortunately, the paddling community is recognizing people of color love the outdoors. Advocates are working to tear down barriers and diversifying the sport for all participants. California-based groups like Outdoor Afro and Vamos Afuera (Let’s Go Outside) have organized frequent outings to paddleboard, kayak, and explore magical places like Yosemite.

Climate change is another issue facing California. Summers get hotter, drier, and smokier due to another extended fire season. This summer, the Caldor Fire closed us down early at Sly Park as the blazed raged just to the south of the park and lake.
“These fires are blinking code red for our nation. They’re gaining frequency and ferocity, and we know what we’re supposed to do. Scientists have been warning us for years [that] extreme weather is going to get more extreme. We’re living it in real-time now,” President Joe Biden said after taking an aerial tour of land burned by the Caldor Fire last week. 

Sly Park Paddle Rentals on Lake Jenkinson

Despite the fire, my season at the boathouse was shortened anyway. Lake Jenkinson fell to record levels along with many other California reservoirs during this season of drought. All through the summer, the lake continued to shrink in size and depth. Each week I would return and find less and less water in the lake.

Regardless of all those arduous issues, my summer season flashed by again a golden haze. Once again, those months came and went so quickly.  Now in September, I'm looking back on a hectic summer of cross-country trips, boathouse days, paddling nights, and a very adventuresome trip down the South Fork of the America River. I've enjoyed hearing the sweet cadences of water ripples over rocks, seeing the vividly mirrored placid lake, and feeling the cool water on a moonlight swims while the stars danced over the trees. 

Moon over Wyoming 

But as London wrote in The Faith of Men, a collection of adventure tales set in the Yukon Territory, "Then came the autumn, post-haste before the down rush of winter. The air grew thin and sharp, the days thin and short. The river ran sluggishly, and skin ice formed in the quiet eddies. All migratory life departed south, and silence fell upon the land."

It's time now to transition into the colder months of the season while still, remembering fall which is still a great time to get outside. The appearance of autumn does not call for the disappearance of kayaks or standup paddleboards. Fall and wintertime waters offer a quieter and solitary experience. Who doesn't appreciate fewer bugs, crowds, and empty parking spots at the access? To provide a transition from swimsuits to wetsuits, I picked favorite images created over the past few months to help recall the past season to help you cruise through to until next summer. 

Bayside Adventure Sports on Lake Jenkinson

Canoeing on Lake Jenkinson

The South Fork of the American River. Photo by Hot Shot Imaging

Smoke over Lake Jenkinson

Power Paddle

Lake Natoma

Lake Jenkinson

Sailing on Elliot Bay in Seattle

Lake Natoma 

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ON THE EVE OF 60

                   Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. ---Helen Keller

Back in the 1970s, John Denver recorded his hit record celebrating the Colorado Rockies Mountain called Rocky Mountain High. It was seemly an autobiographical song about one finding one's self in their own special place, they're own Eden that they have been called too and now call home. The opening verse I really like goes like this.

He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Coming home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door...

The genesis inquiry. It's a question I'm most often asked. When did you start paddling? Or it's sometimes asked this way. What made you start paddling?
My answer is usually trite. Something like it's been a while now or I don't know I just started and fell in love with the sport, you know, like Forest Gump, "I think I'll paddle now."

Kayaking can truly be a life-changing experience. It's that feeling of being on the water conjoined with the sensation of freedom and adventure. And for many, that feeling can become in ways highly addictive.
"When one is completely immersed in the elements, experience is heightened as increased awareness is demanded and dulled senses are rejuvenated," wrote the founder of Werner Paddles, Werner Furrer Sr.

Current Adventures Kayaking School & Trips' Dan Crandall who leads annual trips down the Grand Canyon has told me of folks who just up and quit their jobs or their relationships and totally changed their lives after just one trip down the canyon because they were so intoxicated by the river and paddling.

Mine is a different story, but still much the same. Paddling, like for many, had made a few entrances into my life early on. As a teen, I paddled as much as I could while growing up in Nebraska in the 1970s. I took some great canoe trips down the Niobrara River and Missouri River with science trips offered by my public schools. It usually featured long school bus trips, Grumman canoes, along with red licorice and beef jerky.
At 14, it was pretty exciting to finally get on the water for an overnight canoe trip. We would arrive just before dark to a campsite hopped up on sodas, candy bars and the buzz of anticipation and try to get to sleep.
The next day, the excitement would build as outfitters arrived with trailers of canoes, PFDs, and paddles. We tried not to laugh when the first few inexperienced paddlers capsize, knowing it could just as well happen to us. When finally on the river, water fights and canoe dumping, along with developing paddling skills and new friendships entailed over the journey downriver.
I'm still kicking myself for not signing up for the 10-day summer trip to the BWCA and highlighted with a visit to the Rootbeer Lady cabin. If I had only known what I was missing.

For most, outside a few lucky ones who would make it their business AKA, Dan Crandall would be engulfed in life's eddy of education, career, and family. I was lucky to paddle only a few times a year or not at all. I'm sure there were a couple of years where I didn't even come close to a canoe or kayak. But, when I joined my kids at Minnesota summer camps, where swimming and canoeing are part of the daily programs, it reinvigorated my love of the water.

After the long illness and death of my wife paddling took over. I was alone, yet not alone. After the death of his daughter, writer Roger Rosenblatt sought the same therapy.
"I have taken to kayaking," he wrote in Kayak Morning, Reflections on Love, Grief and Small Boats, "They say people in grief become more like themselves. I have always been a loner, so going out in a kayak suits my temperament."
For the few years after her death, I to did seek the solace of nature and the healing powers of the water.
As Rosenblatt concluded in his meditation, "In this boat, on this creek, I am moving forward, even as I am moving in circles. Amy returns in my love, alive and beautiful. I have her still."

In his philosophical novel, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, writer, and pilot Richard Bach wrote, "The river delights to lift us free, if only we dare to let go. Our true work is this voyage, this adventure."

In 2013, with a new bride and five kayaks loaded on to a Chevy van, I came to California. It was a homecoming of sorts, to the places I had always dreamed about being. I wanted to see natural places with tranquil clear cobalt lakes and rushing wild whitewater and mountain vistas. I wanted places to unplug from the day to day tension of reality to reach out for the universe.

From my window, I now look east to the Sierra. Just down the road from Lake Natoma and the Lower American River. While up the road is South Fork the whitewater and crystal blue lakes of the Sierra. It astounds me how significant these destinations have become to me. For ones I have visited and paddled often, I know every rock, tree, and feature of the setting that they have become a part of me. 
It's the same with the friends and even the strangers that I've joined with on the water. I've found that everyone is pretty much your friend when they have a paddle in their hand. I guess that why I counting down the days till I'm out with staff and crew of Current Adventures Kayaking School & Trips and in charge of the weekend paddle rentals on Lake Jenkinson at Sly Park Recreation Area this spring and summer.

On the eve of my 60th birthday, I still have the urge to find a home in even more locales both near and far. Even if I don't go far. I still have a quest to load my boat on top of the truck and journey down the road like Jack London's character Canim the Canoe, wanderer and far-journeyer over the earth.
"You know nothing of the sea," he boasts to wife in London's The Children of the Frost, "So let me tell you. As the lake is to the island; so the sea is to land; all the rivers run to it, and it is without end."

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SUMMER NOTES FROM THE BOATHOUSE

 

Give me solitude – Give me nature – Give me again – O Nature – your primal sanities --  Walt Whitman

Walk back into nature, bring on the serenity and embrace the solitude.

In 1845, Henry David Thoreau embarked on an odyssey living simply on the shores of Walden Pond. Decades later naturalist John Muir would travel into the Sierra and while writer Jack London would head to the wilds of Alaska. All of them sought something in the spirituality of nature and wanted to inspire others to do the same. As Muir wrote, “In every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks.”

Now, I'm the first to admit I'm nowhere near as profound as Muir or as gifted with the prose of Thoreau, but for the second straight summer season, I was in charge of the weekend paddle rentals at the small boathouse on the upper part of Lake Jenkinson at Sly Park Recreation Area.

As I have described before, Lake Jenkinson is an idyllic summer setting nestled in the Sierra foothills near Pollock Pines, California. Like a souvenir from my childhood memories, a feeling on nostalgia rekindles upon seeing the placid lake surrounded by a fringe of tall pines similar to the Northwoods. In other words, it's a perfect spot while away your day paddling.

Divided by a narrow channel, the lake has two components. A larger rounded lake that is home to speedboats, picnic, and campgrounds and a swimming beach, while the upper lake has an old-fashion fell being narrower, much quieter and home to the boathouse. Over the summer, again I would rent out a boatload of kayaks, canoes, and standup paddleboards all while keeping a series of notes recounting events and my daily, observations of my days on the lake.

May 18...Dan and I had hopes of opening Sly Park Paddle Rentals this weekend, but the rain and cold have washed out most, if not all of our plans.
We met there any way to prep the boathouse for next week's Memorial weekend opening. The first thing to do was empty all the rainwater out of the canoes.

 May 25...The lake glistens with majesty when I first got here today. the emerald-colored water was still and quiet and unbroken. I brought some PFDS up from the warehouse and staged them with my Necky tandem at the boat ramp across the way and paddled them across. with everything else, I would have to make a couple trips back and forth.
Not much traffic on the lake. Only a couple of fishing boats, but they were gone by noon after the clouds moved in and the wind picked up. The only company I have is a little flycatcher who has set up a nest over my boathouse window. She has a little brewed up there I found out last week. She flies back and forth tending her babies. She has got used to me yet.

May 27...Memorial Day. We were rained out yesterday. It a bad week to start the first days of summer with rain and snow falling. After opening up I spent the first part of the morning dumping rainwater out of the canoes and kayaks. It's always a chore.

 June 2...I can attest to the lake still being very cold. A couple a weeks ago the flag we use to promote the business rolled off the dock and sank below it. It was roughly 15-feet below. I brought my wet suit and fins today to see if I could get it. 
In getting ready for the cold water I had to work up the courage to jump in. When I did it, it took my breath away. I dove to the bottom grabbing the flag and then bring it back up to the surface and tossing it on the dock. If were not for my fins I would not have made it to the bottom.

The first several weekends of being open I was hampered by cool and rainy weather.  A series of two impressive thunderstorms kept many potential boaters away and off the water. The only benefit however to the snowy winter and wet spring was that Sly Park Falls continued to gush and rumbling in a marveling display of water and power.

June 15...I have always said my favorite time of day on Lake Jenkinson is morning. However,  last evening while leading a group for Current Adventures we had an amazing time on the water. The wind was gone and the moon was glowing over the pines making for a beautiful experience on the palicid lake. 
It's a scene right out Tolkien's Middle Earth, as we paddle under the cover the pines against the gentle tug of the creek flowing into the lake. Before reaching the walk bridge we could hear the roar of the falls. Beaching our kayaks, it's was only a short walk from there. The water cascading over the ledge was a foaming white stream. It was magic for everyone. They don't whether to cheer or just stand in awe in the fading primeval light.
 
June 22...A good crew for last night's Solstice Paddle. I love the light on the water as it changes from its burning orange to a subdued glow of pink, blue and green.. The trees in distance flicker in the long summer day as we paddle past. 

June 23..Folks are excited to get to the water today. They always come in three stages. The first show up after opening around 10 A.M. Then at noon, followed by another rush at 2 P.M. But no one is in a real hurry.  Everyone is very patient with the process of getting on to the water.  But what is so amazing to me is all the different languages I hear. Today, I heard English of course, but also Farsi, Spanish, Madraina Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, and Russian all my boat dock. They all came together to experience the song and language of the paddle.

My customers are not the only one who drop by the boathouse. The lake is home to an assortment of wildlife that I observe throughout the summer including, deer, ducks and geese and a congress of ravens, and two eagles who have set up a set across the lake from the boathouse.

June 28...The eagle pair sit side by side in the trees to my southeast near the entrance of the creek. It's always a thrill for me to see them. It takes my breath away to watch them fly over with their white heads and tails glistening as the flyover searching the water for fish. yesterday the two were out and caught the eyes of two harassing crows intend on pushing them back to their side of the lake. It was natures dogfight as the crows pushed them back into their own territory.
 
 July 4... It's been a busy holiday on the lake for me today. Lots of boats going in and lots of boats going out. My friend Paul showed up toward the end of the day. After closing up we paddled up to the waterfall and enjoyed the sight of my eagle friends perched high in the tree.

 
July 14...I never mention the drive through the park, but it's a highlight of my day both arriving and leaving. Its the only time I get to see the rest of the lake. on cool mornings driving through the tall pines, I almost feel like I'm going back in time when I pass the campgrounds. The smoke from their fires filters through the trees silhouetting their modern-day wigwams and teepees.

 July 27...had a big group from Bayside Adventure Sports come out to the lake this evening to take part in an after-hours paddle. We toured the lake. visited the waterfall all while enjoying the stillness or evening on the water. For many, it was their first visit to the park.

August 4...We were sold out for a time being. It's is a mark for a hectic few hours and a very long clean up. 

People always ask why I'm not opened during the middle of the week. My response is because it's pretty much a ghost town around here then. Other questions like, what's like what's a canoe? And how many people can fit in make you make me cringe while questions like last week's, I kid you not, can you load a tandem kayak inside your car? Give me a chuckle.
When opening during the weekend there is always plenty to do in dealing with the business end of the boathouse by keeping all the paperwork in order and tending the boats, however, I do enjoy that time in between, when I study the lake and trees.

August  10...I spent the night up the road and when I got here early to find one of our tandem kayaks missing. It had been stolen overnight. I called the rangers right away to report. I had hoped that someone just took it on a joyride and it would be recovered quickly, which proved to be the case when a paddler found it ant towed it back to me.

 August 11... Yes, I do enjoy the quiet times on the lake before the crowds arrive along with their boat chatter. I like to slip away in canoe for of course, to a brief of time to just float in the palicid stillness of the lake. The soothing sensation of gliding silently takes me away to another world to study the beauty of God's creation. 

August 18...I do swim a lot at this job. Often after boats that break away or when I get busy and have pushed the boats off the other side of the dock and I have to jump in to retrieve them. 

September 2...Labor Day, It's fair, bright and still warm to start the day. I'm a bit melancholy on how fast the summer season has slipped away. Time is so fleeting like a wave on the water. As warm as it is it certainly doesn't feel like summer is ending.

As long as the people keep coming and the weather stays nice, we'll be keeping the boat rentals going into the fall months of September. It's "soothing employment" as Thoreau called it to bask in the warmth of the sun, overlooking the pond while shoving boats and canoes around throughout my days. I couldn't find a more peaceful utopia. As Muir wrote in his classic, My First Summer in the Sierra, "Weariness rested away, and I feel eager and ready for another excursion a month or two long in the same wonderful wilderness. Now, however, I must turn toward the lowlands, praying and hoping Heaven will shove me back again."

If you want to go on a canoe or kayak trip at Sly Park contact:
Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips 
PHONE: 530-333-9115 or Toll-Free: 888-452-9254
FAX: 530-333-1291
USPS: Current Adventures, P.O. Box 828, Lotus, CA 95651
info@currentadventures.com
owner Dan Crandall dan@kayaking.com

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STARRY STARRY NIGHT....LOON LAKE PART I

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”--Jack London

"There goes one!" a voice calls out in the darkness.

"Where? I didn't see it," says another.

"Through the Big Dipper. It had a bright tail."

"Oh man! I missed it. What is that?

"An airplane." says another.

"Geez, were not going back till I see one."

Lost in space between the stars in the heavens and the serene of the lake, we are adrift in the magic of the night. The constellations, Pegasus, Cassiopeia and Ursa Minor shine brilliantly in the moonless sky as our eyes focus toward the east in anticipation of catching falling star.
There are less than a dozen of us floating in the tranquility of Loon Lake. Our bobbing armada of kayaks are lashed together by our fingers tips as each boaters holds tightly to the boats between them. Colored glow sticks dangle in the shadows of our figures while some of our headlamps give an eerie glow. It's just after ten and there is a slight gleam over the mountains. It seems like the whole universe is presented before us.

Loon Lake renders the perfect backdrop for the annual Perseid Meteor Shower during its peak in the month of August. The Crystal Basin Recreation Area's lake on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains just west of Lake Tahoe, offers scenic beauty, limited crowds and no light pollution. Tucked away and only a short drive from Sacramento, California, Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips have been providing overnight camping trips for the meteor shower for nearly 10 years. With meals, camping equipment and kayaks provided, paddlers and first time campers enjoy a cozy "roughing it" in-style camp-out. 

"I love the night time paddle,  says long time lake
visitor Djuna Archer, "It's looking up at the stars. This time we have no moon so its beautiful. It's quiet, serene and lovely."

This is our second time out on to the water. We had kayaked the length of the lake earlier during the day, however at night, the lake takes on foreign appearance. The California drought has taken a toll on Loon Lake, dropping it excessively. It is lower than most can ever remember. Just finding our kayaks on the shadowy lake shore is an adventure in itself. In line, we are an illuminated parade of headlamps over the rocky beach to the boats and then, one by one we drop our kayaks into the water and drift into darkness. We follow the leader,  Current Adventure's Dan Crandall's glowing head-ware to the center of the reservoir.

In the middle of the lake we group together and lean back looking at the stars. The day time heat is gone and a coolness brushes over the water. Our voices and the sound of the kayaks bumping together breaks the silence of the lake. We feel the slight vibration of the water below us as the rocking bows gently remind us we are not on solid ground. There is the mystery of water below us and a dazzling array a stars above. Our thoughts navigate us through time and space... How long does it take the light of the stars to touch the earth? Can those satellites see us from above? I wish I could stay here forever.

"Especially in the dark nights," naturalist Henry David Thoreau said long ago while night fishing on Walden Pond, "When our thoughts had wandered to vast and cosmogonal themes and other spheres, to feel this faint jerk, which came to interrupt our dreams and link you to nature again."
  

Our thoughts are disrupted by a flash of a meteor's trail. Fourth of July oohs and awes charge the air. But, the shooting star is gone much to quickly to fully enjoy its splendor. The Perseid shower is known to rise gradually to a peak, then fall off rapidly afterward. We have just missed the peak by a couple of days. The meteor shower is more of a sprinkle but intermittent with wonder and laughter from our group on the lake. Seeing a falling star is always special, however catching it with new friends while kayaking a high Sierra lake is simply magical. It is an experience we will remember for a lifetime. Dan left a light flashing on the shore so we could find our way back. We had a campfire, a couple of bottles of wine and a full day of paddling waiting for us tomorrow.


If you want to go
Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips 
PHONE: 530-333-9115 or Toll-Free: 888-452-9254
FAX: 530-333-1291
USPS:Current Adventures, P.O. Box 828, Lotus, CA 95651
info@currentadventures.com
owner Dan Crandall dan@kayaking.com

This Outside Adventure to the Max was originally published On August 21 2015.

SNOWSHOE SERENADE

 Alas! Alas! Life is full of disappointments; as one reaches one ridge there is always another and a higher one beyond which blocks the view.--- Fridtjof Nansen

There is a quiet hush in the trees. A reverberation coming through the pines of snow being crunched and breaths of cold mountain air being drawn. The slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains glisten a splendid wintry white luster. My wife, Debbie and I had hoped to get all the way up to Loon Lake. It's one of my favorite spots west of Lake Tahoe but found the roads clogged with snow and impassable even with a four-wheeled-drive. We had to settle for parking along the Wentworth Springs Road miles past Stumpy Meadows Reservoir in the Eldorado National Forest.

My senses awaken after the sleepy truck trip into the mountains. The fresh cool air touches my face and pours into my lungs, giving me, that great feeling of just being alive. Winter is the Sierra seems to do that. Naturalist John Muir must of had that same exhilaration when he wrote,  "It is on the mountain tops, when they are laden with loose, dry snow and swept by a gale from the north, that the most magnificent storm scenery is displayed. The peaks along the axis of the Range are then decorated with resplendent banners, some of them more than a mile long, shining, streaming, waving with solemn exuberant enthusiasm as if celebrating some surpassingly glorious event."

At the road, we strap our modern-day snowshoes to our boots. Gone are the days of old wooden tennis racket looking contraptions trekking through the snow. Today's snowshoes are lighter and tougher,  built with strong aluminum frames, durable material for flotation, and bindings that support all types of boots. Sleek in design most snowshoes are between 25-36 inches long with your weight determining the length your need. And it's as simple as walking. Most can go from beginner to practically an expert in a few steps.

We move quickly down the snowed-in forest road in out of the shadows of the mountain pines. Our shoes maybe be modern, but our method of travel is ancient. Experts say that snowshoeing is thought to have originated about 6,000 years ago, making it one of the oldest known inventions by humans. In his book, Snowshoeing, Gene Prater, wrote, "Without the snowshoe/ski, aboriginal people would not have been able to expand over, and occupy, the northern hemisphere." He stated that trappers, hunters and later pioneers found that their snowshoes were indispensable in settling the continent. "During the great westward expansion period," he wrote, "Snowshoes were equally as important as the ax and flintlock rifle in the zones where snow lay deep throughout the winter season."

In his story Burning Daylight, Jack London recants a tale of what it was like snowshoeing in the Yukon Territory during the Alaskan Gold Rush in 1893.  While our hike through the forest is an enjoyable wintry excursion, London takes its allure away with his stark description of the plodding through the drifts.

They plodded days upon days and without end over the soft, unpacked snow. It was hard, monotonous work, with none of the joy and blood-stir that went with flying over hard surface. Now one man to the fore in the snowshoes, and now the other, it was a case of stubborn, unmitigated plod. A yard of powdery snow had to be pressed down, and the wide-webbed shoe, under a man's weight, sank a full dozen inches into the soft surface. Snowshoe work, under such conditions, called for the use of muscles other than those used in ordinary walking. From step to step the rising foot could not come up and forward on a slant. It had to be raised perpendicularly. When the snowshoe was pressed into the snow, its nose was confronted by a vertical wall of snow twelve inches high. If the foot, in rising, slanted forward the slightest bit, the nose of the shoe penetrated the obstructing wall and tipped downward till the heel of the shoe struck the man's leg behind. Thus up, straight up, twelve inches, each foot must be raised every time and all the time, ere the forward swing from the knee could begin.

We find serenity in the trees. In the shadows, there is a chill in the air while in the sunlight sustaining warmth. It's an even trail leading down into a valley. Across the basin, we can see the remains of what a forest fire left behind, while in another spot we cross a treeless boneyard of its aftermath. The white of the snow concealing its disfigurement. As the sun begins to set through the blackened sticks of the forest are ablaze again in a smoldering winter haze.

It is easy to find our trail back to the truck. Instead of breadcrumbs, we had left giant footprints in the snow. We sense an urgency on the way back not wanting to get stuck on the roads choked- with snow in the dark. In the fading light winding through the trees and rock in the crunching snow, I can relate to the feeling Muir had when he wrote, “Long, blue, spiky-edged shadows crept out across the snow-fields, while a rosy glow, at first scarce discernible, gradually deepened and suffused every mountain-top, flushing the glaciers and the harsh crags above them. This was the alpenglow, to me the most impressive of all the terrestrial manifestations of God. At the touch of this divine light, the mountains seemed to kindle to a rapt, religious consciousness, and stood hushed like devout worshippers waiting to be blessed.”

It's a nice bit of tranquility, till a London like harshness interrupts when Debbie reminds me, "People die out here all the time,  we better get moving."

PADDLING SAN FRANCISCO BAY : VIDEO BLOG

The hard work is not only part of the fun of it, but it beats the doctors. San Francisco Bay is no mill pond. It is a large and draughty and variegated piece of water. I remember, one winter evening, trying to enter the mouth of the Sacramento. There was a freshet on the river, the flood tide from the bay had been beaten back into a strong ebb, and the lusty west wind died down with the sun. It was just sunset, and with a fair to middling breeze, dead aft, we stood still in the rapid current. --Jack London

It is undeniably one the greatest views ever. The Golden Gate Bridge a vision that has inspired story, song and poem. On its opening ceremony in 1937, its chief engineer Joseph Strauss said, "This bridge needs neither praise, eulogy nor encomium. It speaks for itself. We who have labored long are grateful. What Nature rent asunder long ago, man has joined today." When asked how long the bridge would will last? His answer was concise. "Forever." he replied.
Forever, I will have that memory of kayaking out of Horseshoe Bay. The bridge, the mystical structure shines to my south."Its efficiency cannot conceal the artistry. There is heart there, and soul. It is an object to be contemplated for hours." That is what longtime San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen wrote when he described his reverence of the triumphant structure. I feel the same sentiment. When I think back on all the places I have ever wanted to kayak. I had dreamed of clear forest lakes, whitewater in a rocky mountain canyon and a sea view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Just to be near the bridge was an overpowering feeling. It was hard to take my eyes off it. Even when I turned to the east, towards Angel Island, I found myself looking over my shoulder enraptured by its sight.

I'm was going solo for first part of the trip. It was early spring morning, the winds were light and the tide was in my favor. I had picked a good time to paddle. San Francisco Bay is legendary to sea kayakers. It has some of the wildest sea conditions on the entire West Coast. The bay is known for steep waves, fast and swirling currents and howling winds blowing through that Golden Gate that require advanced paddling skills. "It really blows on San Francisco Bay," cited American author Jack London, "During the winter, which is the best cruising season, we have southeasters, southwesters, and occasional howling northers. Throughout the summer we have what we call the "sea-breeze," an unfailing wind off the Pacific that on most afternoons in the week."

I'm was crossing the bay to meet up a camping party for an overnight on Angel Island.  They had come the day before and I was joining them.  My kayak, loaded up with camping gear, a change of clothes and assortment of freeze-dried foods and power bars. To my left was Richardson Bay and Sausalito, to my right was Alcatraz Island and San Francisco and behind me the Golden Gate Bridge. Straight ahead is was Angel Island silhouetted against the sun. Its dark mass rises out of a hazy glow before me. My day had just begun.

Canadian author Gilbert Parker wrote, "It must be remembered that the sea is a great breeder of friendship. Two men who have known each other for twenty years find that twenty days at sea bring them nearer than ever they were before." Close to water, vulnerable to its brunt and force, my kayak companions from Bayside Adventure Sports have bonded together well this past year with a shared camaraderie and ministry of paddling in God's creation. BAS is an active outdoor church group based in Granite Bay, California and sponsors many of my paddling activities.

After unloading my gear and quick breakfast, I was back on the water again with the group. We made a quick trip across Raccoon Straights to Tiburon followed by a run back through the straights and around the island. We faced wind and waves on the island's west and tranquil waters on its east while circumventing the bay island. Each stroke of the paddle was a triumph. Each bounding swell an adventure. "Why do we love the sea?" stated American artist Robert Henri, "It is because in has some potent power to make us think things we like to think." The next day, we returned towards Horseshoe Bay and the bridge hidden somewhere in the clouds.

STARRY STARRY NIGHT....LOON LAKE PART I

“I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”--Jack London

"There goes one!" a voice calls out in the darkness.

"Where? I didn't see it," says another.

"Through the Big Dipper. It had a bright tail."

"Oh man! I missed it. What is that?

"An airplane." says another.

"Geez, we're not going back till I see one."

Lost in space between the stars in the heavens and the serene of the lake, we are adrift in the magic of the night. The constellations, Pegasus, Cassiopeia and Ursa Minor shine brilliantly in the moonless sky as our eyes focus toward the east in anticipation of catching a falling star.
There are less than a dozen of us floating in the tranquility of Loon Lake. Our bobbing armada of kayaks is lashed together by our fingers tips as each boater holds tightly to the boats between them. Colored glow sticks dangle in the shadows of our figures while some of our headlamps give an eerie glow. It's just after ten and there is a slight gleam over the mountains. It seems like the whole universe is presented before us.

Loon Lake renders the perfect backdrop for the annual Perseid Meteor Shower during its peak in the month of August. The Crystal Basin Recreation Area's lake on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains just west of Lake Tahoe, offers scenic beauty, limited crowds and no light pollution. Tucked away and only a short drive from Sacramento, California, Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips have been providing overnight camping trips for the meteor shower for nearly 10 years. With meals, camping equipment and kayaks provided, paddlers and first-time campers enjoy a cozy "roughing it" in-style camp-out.

"I love the night time paddle,  says longtime lake visitor Djuna Archer, "It's looking up at the stars. This time we have no moon so it's beautiful. It's quiet, serene and lovely."

 This is our second time out on to the water. We had kayaked the length of the lake earlier during the day, however, at night, the lake takes on foreign appearance. The California drought has taken a toll on Loon Lake, dropping it excessively. It is lower than most can ever remember. Just finding our kayaks on the shadowy lake shore is an adventure in itself. In line, we are an illuminated parade of headlamps over the rocky beach to the boats and then, one by one we drop our kayaks into the water and drift into darkness. We follow the leader,  Current Adventure's Dan Crandall's glowing headwear to the center of the reservoir.

In the middle of the lake, we group together and lean back looking at the stars. The daytime heat is gone and a coolness brushes over the water. Our voices and the sound of the kayaks bumping together breaks the silence of the lake. We feel the slight vibration of the water below us as the rocking bows gently remind us we are not on solid ground. There is the mystery of water below us and a dazzling array stars above. Our thoughts navigate us through time and space... How long does it take the light of the stars to touch the earth? Can those satellites see us from above? I wish I could stay here forever.

"Especially in the dark nights," naturalist Henry David Thoreau said long ago while night fishing on Walden Pond, "When our thoughts had wandered to vast and cosmogonal themes and other spheres, to feel this faint jerk, which came to interrupt our dreams and link you to Nature again."  

Our thoughts are disrupted by a flash of a meteor's trail. Fourth of July oohs and awes charge the air. But, the shooting star is gone much to quickly to fully enjoy its splendor. The Perseid shower is known to rise gradually to a peak, then fall off rapidly afterward. We have just missed the peak by a couple of days. The meteor shower is more of a sprinkle but intermittent with wonder and laughter from our group on the lake. Seeing a falling star is always special, however catching it with new friends while kayaking a high Sierra lake is simply magical. It is an experience we will remember for a lifetime.

Dan left a light flashing on the shore so we could find our way back. We had a campfire, a couple of bottles of wine and a full day of paddling waiting for us tomorrow.

 

Part Two of my trip to Loon Lake next week in Outside Adventure to the Max.

Under the Golden Gate

I come back to the sea. In my case it is usually San Francisco Bay, than which no lustier, tougher, sheet of water can be found for small-boat sailing. It really blows on San Francisco Bay. During the winter, which is the best cruising season, we have southeasters, southwesters, and occasional howling northers. Throughout the summer we have what we call the "sea-breeze," an unfailing wind off the Pacific that on most afternoons in the week blows what the Atlantic Coast yachtsmen would name a gale. ---Jack London

When I think back on all those places I have ever wanted to kayak. I would dream of clear forest lakes, whitewater in a rocky mountain canyon and a sea view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
It is undeniably one of the greatest views ever. The Golden Gate Bridge is an icon of America. As I began unloading my kayak into Horseshoe Bay just to the north of the bridge, even in the early morning hours,  folks have already begun to congregate at the water's edge with their eyes fixed on the bridge in reverence.
It is a calm and beautiful morning. Out of the safety of Horseshoe Bay, I have heard about what challenges await. San Francisco Bay is legendary to the sea kayaker. Some of the wildest sea conditions on the entire West Coast can be found just past that sea wall. The bay is known for steep waves, fast and swirling currents and howling winds blowing through that Golden Gate. The last time my paddling partner, Erik Allen and I paddled the bay we faced a tiring wind on the return trip. I laughed at it anyway.
"You have never paddled Lake of the Woods at Zipple Bay, have you." I told Erik, and then exaggerated just a little, "They use a log chain for a windsock there."
Erik might have been concerned about the wind,  however, I'm worried about the tides and currents. Sea kayaking is still a foreign language to me. Ebbs, slacks, floods, and tide tables make up words in a sea kayaker's secret code. A flood tide makes it easier to paddle out while ebb will aid in the return. Finding the ideal time optimal for one's paddling experience.
Adding to even more the chaos are the pleasure crafts, ferries and ocean-going vessels competing for the same waterway. All of these factors should be considered when paddling in the bay and caution should always be exercised.

I picked a good time to paddle. It is early and the winds are light and the tide is in my favor.  I'm going solo across to Angel Island to join my camping party for an overnight on the island. They came the day before and I will be joining them. My kayak is loaded up with my camping gear, a change of clothes and an assortment of freeze-dried foods and power bars.
My heart races as I exit the Horseshoe Bay and enter the swells of the ocean. It is an exhilarating feeling as I round Yellow Bluff, a 90-foot cliff just of east of Horseshoe Bay. The waves crash gently against its walls. I enjoy views of seals bobbing their heads up above the surface of the water.  They are my only company so far. It is way to early for ferryboats. Their traffic won't begin till mid-morning. I stay along the shore for a while before making a northeastern turn towards Angel Island's Stuart's Point. To my left is Richardson Bay and Sausalito, to my right,  Alcatraz Island and San Francisco while behind me is the Golden Gate Bridge. Straight ahead is Angel Island silhouetted against the sun. Its dark mass rises out of a hazy glow.
It's a little less than 3 miles across to it. The island looms larger and larger with each stroke. I spot a few fisherman and sailboats on the horizon. It is an easy paddle till I catch the swell of and rapid water of Raccoon Straights. It pushes me past Stuart Point and towards the kayak in campsite. In the grass, I catch sight of my party's kayaks nestled in the grass. Up the hill,  I'm just in time for breakfast.

The day had just begun. After unloading my gear and quick breakfast I'm back on the water again with the group of paddlers. We make a quick trip across Raccoon Straights to Tiburon followed by a trip back through the straights and around the island.

  Angel Island is the bay's second largest island. It's about five miles to hike around which gives me an idea of the distance I will paddle while circumnavigating the island. I team up with fellow paddler Phil Montanes for the trek around the island. I watch Phil and his kayak disappear and reappear in the bounding waves while crossing the ferryboat lanes to Stuart's Point. Going around the west end of the island we take on the full brunt of the bay's winds. At times we don't even seem to be moving. We paddle hard past the rocky ledge before the bay winds decrease. From there, we sweep along the south side of the island, where we have the best views of Alcatraz and the cityscape of San Francisco. After Blunt Point, the bay is as calm a Minnesota lake on summer's afternoon. The eastern side of the island usually offers protection against the prevailing west winds. Here we catch our breaths and pass the historic sites of the island. The fort and the immigration station stand like silent witnesses to another time. Rounding the corner again we catch the wind and the view of Ayala Cove. This where the tourists arrive and depart the island via ferry boats. We have almost made it. Just past Point Ione, we see our kayak camp's beach and the far off view of the Golden Gate.

 Part Two of my trip to Angel Island next week in Outside Adventure to the Max.