THE WAITING GAME

During their three months at Fort Clatsop, the members of the Corps of Discovery led by Meriwether Lewis and William Clark reworked their journals, labored meticulously drawing maps, and to pass the time produced an ample supply of moccasins for the return trip back east.

March 13, 1806, "I this day took an account of the number of pairs of moccasins each man in the party had; and found the whole to be 338 pairs. This stock was not provided without great labor, as the most of them are made of the skins of elk. Each man has also a sufficient quantity of patch-leather. Some of the men went out to look for the lost canoe and killed two elk." --- Patrick Gass 

Fort Clatsop

Life at Fort Clatsop on the south shore of the Columbia River, near modern-day Astoria, Oregon was unbearably dull for the explorers who just the year before had crossed mountains and shot rapids. The weather was depressing and the days were monotonous as often noted several times in their journals. "Not anything transpired during this day worthy of particular notice," wrote Lewis. It was a place they just couldn't wait to leave.

March 3, 1806, "No movement of the party today worthy of notice. Everything moves on in the old way and we are counting the days which separate us from the 1st of April, & which bind us to Fort Clatsop." --- Meriwether Lewis

We don't have to go very far to see the parallels between our exploring counterparts of over 200 years ago and today's outdoor enthusiasts waiting out the novel coronavirus COVID-19 pandemic restrictions. As of this writing, state parks in many states are closed under the guidance on social distancing. Public health officials have raised alarms about people congregating in outdoor spaces like beaches, climbing areas, trailheads, and some popular river accesses leading to in some cases, these areas being shut down by local authorities.

"These are crazy, uncertain times," wrote California based paddler Cate Hawthorne in her blog Woman on the Water, "I feel very fortunate to have a comfortable home, agreeable partner for sheltering in place, lots of projects, and lots of good books to read. What has been difficult for me is the economic uncertainty and not being able to play outside (hike, bike, kayak, camp)."

For the most part, I've heeded universal rules that everyone should know by now, wash your hands, stay six feet apart from one another, avoid crowds, and stay local. Like the explorers at Fort Clatsop, I've found some diversion to my day with trips in my own neighborhood, all the while looking eastward toward the Sierra. Especially disappointed in missing my annual springtime events and trips, but I'll take refuge in my small solo outings or with my close paddling friends to my local river and lake.

Locked gates and kayak carts

With California state parks gates locked water access has been limited my neighborhood's Lake Natoma. Area paddlers park outside the gate and cart in their SUPS, kayaks, and canoes past the gates and signs to ghost town parking lots and boat access. Once on the water, a sense of normalcy occurs.

"Such a nice afternoon on the water!" wrote a Facebook friend, "Distancing of course with a few friends! So nice to get out of the house as I was cooped up sick over a week ago. Needed some vitamin D and connection. Thankful!"

Sunshine and water are good medicine. Wisconsin based paddler Shari Gasper felt that same rejuvenation just by getting back on to her lake recently.
"It just felt great to be outdoors and physically active," she wrote in her blog, Two Orange Kayaks, " We were a quiet trio on an almost empty lake, not coming into contact with other people, enjoying a day that felt nearly “normal” during the unusual circumstances of the COVID-19 pandemic. The time on the water made me feel energized and hopeful that I can endure another month of social distancing—if I have kayaking as my escape from the day-to-day monotony."

As with the explorers of the Corps of Discovery, we are counting the days until the restrictions are lifted and we can all travel far from homes. With so much uncertainty and so many changes in our lives these days, it's a relief to know the lakes and rivers will be there waiting for summer adventures. Yes, we'll all have to act responsibly by prioritizing the health and well-being of others when we get there by practicing the guidance of social distancing. And if we do, everyone will be able to enjoy the sunshine and beauty of the summer season. But until then, we'll have to wait.

March 20, 1806, "The rain rendered our departure so uncertain that we declined this measure for the present. nothing remarkable happened during the day. we have yet several days provision on hand, which we hope will be sufficient to subsist us during the time we are compelled by the weather to remain at this place." --- Meriwether Lewis

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FOLLOWING THE LEADER

Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others." Robert Louis Stevenson

On January 1st, 1806 on the Pacific Coast at Fort Clatsop Captian Meriwether Lewis was awoken to a volley of rifle fire to usher in the New Year. Since leaving St. Louis in May 1804 the Corps of Discovery had done the almost impossible by forging a trail across the continent. The new year now promised a return trip on the second part of their expedition.

"Our repast of this day, though better than that of Christmas," wrote Lewis, consisted principally in the anticipation of the 1st day of January 1807, when, in the bosom of our friends, we hope to participate in the mirth and hilarity of the day."

Through his leadership along with fellow captain William Clark, the Corps of Discovery's accomplishments were mostly successful as they had explored and mapped, gathered information and developed relations as emissaries of the United States to the native tribes while on their way to the Pacific. Their skills as leaders were without question was the main reason their journey so far was a triumph. But it was far from over. They were only half done.

Like the Corps of Discovery, as the calendar year turns and launches into 2020, I feel I'm a midway point. It's been now ten years since I started kayaking seriously. It started with a small fire and still burns with energetic enthusiasm, but I still feel I have a long way to go.

But, with the assurance that this trip is worth the effort, I'm being led by a solid foundation of leaders, teachers, and confidants who continue to guide and encourage me along the way.

This past year it was once again amazing to paddle with likes of Dan Crandall, Kim Sprague, John Weed, Paul Camozzi and the rest of the gang at Current Adventures Kayaking School and Trips and The River Store. We added the Great American Triathlon as we continued the legacy of Eppie's Great Race and enjoyed a fantastic season at Sly Park Paddle Rentals on Jenkinson Lake. In 2020, we're hoping to expand these services even more just get more folks like you on the water.

Are we there yet? It's a question Bayside Adventure Sports, Greg Weisman often hears. He is going to hear even more this coming year as he takes new challenges and exciting new trips including one to Israel.

As for the group's kayaking division, John Taylor has been a true inspiration and awesome paddling partner. He makes every day on the water with his easy-going style and enthusiasm a special day. We look forward to several more overnight paddling trips after the success of our Loon Lake adventure.

A big thank you goes out to our 2020's guest bloggers, Kathy Bunton, Dan Crandall, Julie Mitravich, and for a great Q/As with John Connelly and Daniel Fox. They certainly have made OAM better by providing thoughtful and compelling views into the world of paddling. We certainly look forward to future posts from them in 2020.

I would also like to thank, Canoe & Kayak Magazine, AquaBound, American Rivers and NRS Web, for sharing my posts on their social media pages. It's always a fun Friday for me when post Outside Adventure to the Max. Thanks for helping us spread the word about our weekly post.

My biggest thanks, of course, goes to my wife Debbie. I couldn't do any of my kayaking or adventuring without her love, support and encouragement. One could never have a more true friend and companion. I look forward to more days paddling side by side.

It would be some seven months later after a frightening encounter with the Blackfeet Indians, that Lewis and his small squad were making a hasty retreat by traveling more than 90 miles on horseback in less than 24 hours to rejoin the main party.

"I encouraged them (his men) by telling them that our own lives," wrote Lewis,  "As well as those of our friends and fellow travelers, depended on our exertions at this moment; they were alert soon prepared the horses and we again resumed our march."

Like them, we proceed on into the year 2020.

So as we travel into the new decade, I offer you what this foundation of friends continues to give me. Be positive, stay optimistic and overcome your weariness with courage and motivation to continue.

Happy New Year! Now proceed on.

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WHITEWATER, OCTOBER 1805

Photo courtesy of the National Geographic Production 2002 of Lewis & Clark: Great Journey West.

"October 13, 1805, the canoes ran down this channel swifter than any horse could run." --Joseph Whitehouse

In the fall of 1805 the Corps of Discovery put their newly fashion dugout canoes into the fast-moving Clearwater River and for the first time in nearly two years had the current to their back. Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark had faced many nautical challenges since leaving St. Louis, Missouri, in May of 1804, but nothing in their experience had prepared them for the falls and rapids that lay ahead on what is now Idaho and eastern Washington.

As Stephen Ambrose pointed out in his book Undaunted Courage, "The dugout canoes were cumbersome. They overturned or grounded on rocks. They swamped, They sprung leaks. Supplies were damaged, trade goods lost. Men's lives were endangered. The captains ran the rapids anyway, as many as fifteen in a day."

"October 7, 1805, All the canoes in the water. We load and set out, after fixing all our poles &c...Proceed on, passing many bad rapids. One canoe, that in which I went in front, sprung a leak in passing the third rapid." ---William Clark  

Whitewater rapids are rated according to difficulty from Class I (easy flow and small waves) to Class VI (virtually unrunnable). Even with today’s high-tech kayaks and rafts, Class V rapids are not included on most commercial river trips. Navigating the rocks, waves, dangerous currents, and steep drops of Class V rapids require scouting and expert paddling skills. The men of the Corps of Discovery had to develop these skills along the way if they expected to survive.

William Clark's map of the Clearwater River

"October 8, 1805, One of the canoes struck a rock in the middle of the rapid and swang around and struck another rock and cracked hir so that it filled with water. The waves roared over the rocks and some of the men could not swim. There they stayed in this doleful situation until we unloaded one of the other canoes and went and released them." ---John Ordway

"October 14, 1805, In passing through a short rapid opposite the head of an island, ran on a smooth rock and turned broadside. The men got out on the rock, all except one of our Indian chiefs, who swam on shore. The canoe filled and sank. A number of articles floated out." ---William Clark

They were nearing the junction of the Snake and Columbia Rivers. It was late in the season and urgency was on their minds. They needed to cover miles no matter what unknown rapids roar ahead and around the bend. In their rush, they were taking many chances in paddling on the rough water.
The local tribes, expert canoeists themselves knew their risks as they gathered sometimes by the hundreds waiting for the inevitable disaster. Surely the white men would drown and they would be able to gather all the abandon equipment for themselves. But to their surprise the cleared the rapids losing only a few shot pouches, some bedding, and clothing, but never a canoe, rifle or man.

"October 16, 1805, Determined to run the rapid. Put our Indian guide in front, our small canoe next, and the other four following each other. The canoes all passed over safe except the rear canoe, which ran fast on a rock at the lower part of the rapids. With the early assistance of the canoes and the Indians, who were extremely alert, everything was taken out, and the canoe got off without any injury...At 14 miles passed a bad rapid, at which place we unloaded and made a portage of 3/4 of a mile, having passed 4 smaller rapids." ---William Clark

About a week later the Corps of Discovery encountered Celilo Falls. The beginning of a 55-mile stretch of the Columbia River proved to be the most difficult and dangerous part of their journey through the Pacific Northwest.

Celilo Falls 1899

October 23, 1805, I, with the greater part of the men, crossed in the canoes to the opposite side of the falls and hauled them across the portage of 457 yards, which is on the larboard side and certainly the best side to pass the canoes. I then descended through a narrow channel, about 150 yards wide, forming, a kind of half-circle in its course of a mile.---William Clark

The portage of over the falls gave them little trouble. The explosive Short Narrows and The Long Narrows were another matter. The Short Narrows was a 45-yard wide single channel of raging whitewater. The local Indians considered them impassable. Clark and the corps' best boatman, Peter Cruzatte went ahead to scout it out for themselves. Above the roar of the water, they saw what Clark would later write, "Whorls and swells arising from the compression of the water."
They agreed, that the portage of their heavy canoes over the high rocks would be nearly impossible and by good steering and avoiding the rocks they could make it through safely.

October 24, 1805, I determined to pass through this place notwithstanding the horrid appearance of this agitated gut, swelling, boiling, and whorling in every direction which, from the top of the rock, did not appear as bad as when I was in it. However, we passed safe, to the astonishment of all the Indians, who view us from the top of the rock.---William Clark

October 24, 1805, We went through a place where the river was all confined in a narrow channel of about 20 yards wide, (with) high rocks on each side the current very rapid and full of whirlpools. We ran down (it) very fast."--- Joseph Whitehouse

The Short Narrows of the Columbia 1950

The next morning the men repeated the scene again at the Long Narrows. The non-swimmers and the valuable baggage portaged around the rapids while the rest of the party shot through them in the dugout canoes.
  
"October 25, 1805, The three first canoes passed through very well; the fourth nearly filled with water; the last passed through by taking in a little water. Thus, safely below what I conceived to be the worst part of this channel, felt myself extremely gratified and pleased. 
We loaded the canoes and set out, and had not proceeded more than 2 miles before the unfortunate canoe which filled crossing the bad place above, ran against a rock and was in great danger of being lost. This channel is through a hard rough black rock, from 50 to 100 yards wide, swelling and boiling in a most tremendous manner." ---William Clark

The Long Narrows 1951

With no question, today's whitewater kayakers and rafters would enjoy the thrill of retracing the Corps of Discovery's trek through these incredible sections of whitewater, if they only could. But alas, most of these challenging rapids are just memories now, after being submerged behind a series of hydroelectric dams built in the 1950s.

William Clark's comments are from The Journals of Lewis And Clark, edited by John Bakeless, copyright 1964. Joesph Whitehouse's comments are from the Orginal Journals of Lewis & Clark Expedition 1804-1806, Volume 7. John Ordway's comment is from The Definitive Journals of Lewis and Clark, Vol 9: John Ordway and Charles Floyd.

This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max on October 20, 2017. 

 

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HIYACKING

"My ears were saluted with the agreeable sound of a fall of water and advancing a little further I saw the spray arise above the plain like a column of smoke which would frequently disappear again in an instant." Meriwether Lewis, June 13, 1805

It was one of those clear-skied early autumn days still being on the border of summer. Hot enough that a parade of rafters was still coming through the trees and down the bank to the water. Armed with suntan lotion, coolers and whatever that they have that can float, the army of rafters was heading down river with the flow. It's a popular activity along the American River Parkway in Sacramento throughout the summer. The Lower American River provides a cool and relaxing way to escape the heat during the summer months along its urban waterway. Rafts and inter-tubes are a common sight at the Sunrise Access all the way down to River Bend Park.
As I slid my kayak between a few rafts, I get the usual question.
"How far down are you going?" one asked.
"Not going down river today," I reply, "I'm going to paddle upstream a couple of miles."

It was a relatively easy paddle when I learned to paddle my way up the meandering Red River.  It twisted and turned along the North Dakota and Minnesota border. When the river turned, it forms a bend. The strongest current will usually be found on the outside of that curve. By staying to the inside of the river, I found the slowest flow of water. There the gradient dropped in inches per mile. I could travel miles upstream with ease before turning around to go with its northern flow.

In the foothills of California, when there is water, it comes cascading down the canyons only to be captured by reservoirs and frugally drained into its rivers like the Lower American on its way to the sea. There is a constant push to stay moving or risk losing ground.

In the past couple of weeks,  I have been taking trips up some California rivers and then back down again. For me,  it's always a challenging way for me to spend some time on the river without the bother of having to a shuttle. I ascended the waterway much like climbing up an assemblage of stairs. I'd crisscrossed the river's surface while paddling upstream, staying its inside, feeling the water pushing my boat backward. Rapids or fast water are hurdles along the way, however just above them are gentle pools to explore.

Scientists say that the sound of running water motivates the beaver to build. Something in the noise the churning water tells them to construct a dam. For them, it's the sound to make progress. For me, it's the call to "Hikayak" My paddling partner Carly Mariani's invented the term, a combination of hiking and kayaking when I took her on several mile trip up the North Fork of the American River.  I'm sure she expected a simple cruise but ended up ascending much of the river by foot, before getting a fun trip back down.

At the narrowest point of the rapid,  I locked my boat against the eddies, a relative calm where the main current flows reverse,  I climbed out of my kayak and push it through the fast water or leaning forward into the stream, I lash a bowline to the boat and waded through the water pulling my kayak behind me. It's a rocky trek through the fast-moving stream to the pool above. Water shoes are a must. The footing was uneven and slippery.

It's the drive to see what is around the next bend and the anticipation of not knowing what I will see. Above the rapids, there are placid pools of scenic beauty between the next set of rushing water. There the river spreads out in spaces as I circled around the shore and find a hidden cove of backwater. There the beavers had been busy working. Green and lush, it's a quiet little world to tour and reward of getting there before heading back to ride the bouncy rapids back.

Up River Without A Shuttle

 “Going up that river was like traveling back to the beginning of the world, when the plants ran wild and the trees were kings. We sailed up an empty river into a great and silent forest"  --Joesph Conrad,  Heart of Darkness...

 In the past couple of weeks, I have been taking trips up the river and then back down. It is challenging in a way for me. All explorers went up the river from Lewis & Clark to Teddy Roosevelt. It's the drive to see what is around the next bend and the anticipation of not knowing what will be seen.

My kayak partner Erik Allen and I were for that challenge last month when we paddled up the North Fork of the American River from Upper Lake Clementine. We had traveled up another section of the river before at a place called Rattlesnake Bar and above Folsom Lake. There is a mixture of lake and river. Above Lake Clementine, it would be all river. Going up the North Fork follows an ever-rising gradient. The water comes in swift fashion. We would paddle pool to pool portaging through the rapids. Erik's longer sea kayak would help him muscle through the fast current a few times by vigorously paddling as hard as he could to pass over the ledge where the water was in a boil. Its nature's rowing machine.

"This is a marathon, not a sprint," Luke Kimmes told the Des Moines Register  "Physically, it's very demanding to paddle nine to 12 hours a day, but a lot of it is up here (he points to his head). It's that mind over matter idea."
Kimmes and five others are on different odyssey this year. They are on the Adventure to Rediscover North America Expedition, canoeing from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean. The journey will take them through ten states, and five Canadian provinces traveling the most way the upstream on the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers. It's well past 2,000 miles upstream before they are finally going downstream in the Red River Valley of the North and into Canada.
"This is the type of trip I dreamt about when I was a kid," said Kimmes, "It's a passion of mine to show others that getting outside and enjoying the environment is good for the soul. It's a lot better than sitting at a desk."

 I compare it to climbing steps. On some rivers, you will feel a gentle tug or push. When a river turns, it forms a bend. The strongest and deepest current will usually be found on the outside of that curve. So while Erik tries to power paddle through, I take the easy way, finding where the rapids are the narrowest to the pools. Locking my boat against the eddies, a relative calm where the main current flows reverse,  I climb out of my kayak and push it through the fast water. Leaning into the streaming and bracing against the boat.
I have waded before. In the Midwest, we could never really wade in many rivers. Their bottoms were made of mud and silt. You would quickly sink up to your ankles or knees in muck. Don't even think of wearing a pair of shoes. You would either leave them stuck in the mud or spend the next hours trying to scrape the sludge off them. There it's better to go barefoot with the mud oozing between your toes.
 Water shoes are a must today. A couple of weeks ago this water was snow. It is still cold against my legs and feet. This water has enough power to knock me down and the rocks underneath are slippery and jagged. My neoprene boots hold in my warmth and also protect my feet in the rocky river bottom. In my mind, I think about to the explorers and gold miners who stood ankle deep in this cold stream searching for new lands and new treasure. Before long we are back flat water with a roar of the rapids behind us.

"Really, it speaks to what this trip means to me, which is if you have a passion, part of passion is struggling and sacrificing for what you want." said the mastermind Adventure to Rediscover North America Expedition, Winchell Delano in the same interview with Des Moines Register, "The feeling when you cross that divide and you're going downstream again, it's like delayed gratification through cathartic pain."

In the Midwest the slope is measured in inches. It's like pouring water on a pool table and watching it meander to the table's lean. In the foothills of California, if there is water, it comes cascading down the canyons offering scenic beauty and solitude.  At one spot we are treated with the sight of a bald eagle. It pays us no mind as we paddle on in a quiet pool. When soaring, it could be on to the next canyon in the time it takes us to paddle around one bend. It's all new to us, even though it has been mapped, surveyed and Google earthed. When we are out here paddling up stream little matters. It's like we are the first to see it, hear it and touch it.
"Just one more bend," we say to each other. Or maybe even one further up. Lets see how far we can go, powered by trail mix and granola bar before turning back. Then we can turn around and ride the bouncy gentle rapids back to still waters.

Whitewater, October 1805

Photo from the National Geographic Production 2002 of Lewis & Clark: Great Journey West.

In the fall of 1805 the Corps of Discovery put their newly fashion dugout canoes into the fast-moving Clearwater river and for the first time in nearly two years had the current to their back. Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark had faced many nautical challenges since leaving St. Louis, Missouri, in May 1804, but nothing in their experience had prepared them for the falls and rapids that lay ahead on what is now Idaho and eastern Washington.

 "October 7, 1805, All the canoes in the water. We load and set out, after fixing all our poles &c...Proceed on, passing many bad rapids. One canoe, that in which I went in front, sprung a leak in passing the third rapid." ---William Clark  

 Whitewater rapids are rated according to difficulty from Class I (easy flow and small waves) to Class VI (virtually unrunnable). Even with today’s high-tech kayaks and rafts, Class V rapids are not included on most commercial river trips. Navigating the rocks, waves, dangerous currents, and steep drops of Class V rapids require scouting and expert paddling skills. The men of the Corps of Discovery would have to develop these skills along the way if they expected to survive.

"October 14, 1805, In passing through a short rapid opposite the head of an island, ran on a smooth rock and turned broadside. The men got out on the rock, all except one of our Indian chiefs, who swam on shore. The canoe filled and sank. A number of articles floated out." ---William Clark

They were nearing the junction of the Snake and Columbia Rivers. It was late in the season and urgency was on their minds. They needed to make miles no matter what unknown rapids roar ahead, around the bend. They took many chances paddling the rough water losing tomahawks, shot pouches, bedding and clothing, but never a canoe, rifle or man.

"October 16, 1805, Determined to run the rapid. Put our Indian guide in front, our small canoe next, and the other four following each other. The canoes all passed over safe except the rear canoe, which ran fast on a rock at the lower part of the rapids. With the early assistance of the canoes and the Indians, who were extremely alert, everything was taken out, and the canoe got off without any injury...At 14 miles passed a bad rapid, at which place we unloaded and made a portage of 3/4 of a mile, having passed 4 smaller rapids." ---William Clark

About a week later the Corps of Discovery encountered Celilo Falls. The beginning of a 55-mile stretch of the Columbia River proved to be the most difficult and dangerous part of their journey through the Pacific Northwest.

Celilo Falls 1899

October 23 1805, I, with the greater part of the men, crossed in the canoes to the opposite side of the falls and hauled them across the portage of 457 yards, which is on the larboard side and certainly the best side to pass the canoes. I then descended through a narrow channel, about 150 yards wide, forming, a kind of half-circle in its course of a mile.---William Clark

The portage of the falls gave them little trouble. The explosive Short Narrows and The Long Narrows were another matter. The Short Narrows was a 45-yard wide single channel of raging whitewater. The local Indians considered the rapids impassable. Clark and the corps' best boatman, Peter Cruzatte went ahead to scout it out for themselves. They heard the roar of the water and saw what Clark would later write, "Whorls and swells arising from the compression of the water."  They agreed, that the portage of their heavy canoes over the high rocks would be nearly impossible and by good steering and avoiding the rocks they could make it through safely.

 October 24 1805, I determined to pass through this place notwithstanding the horrid appearance of this agitated gut, swelling, boiling, and whorling in every direction which, from the top of the rock, did not appear as bad as when I was in it. However, we passed safe, to the astonishment of all the Indians, who view us from the top of the rock.---William Clark

The Short Narrows of the Columbia 1950

The next morning the men repeated the scene again at the Long Narrows. The non-swimmers and the valuable baggage portaged around the rapids while the rest of the party shot through them in the dugout canoes.
  
"October 25, 1805, The three first canoes passed through very well; the fourth nearly filled with water; the last passed through by taking in a little water. Thus, safely below what I conceived to be the worst part of this channel, felt myself extremely gratified and pleased. 
We loaded the canoes and set out, and had not proceeded more than 2 miles before the unfortunate canoe which filled crossing the bad place above, ran against a rock and was in great danger of being lost. This channel is through a hard rough black rock, from 50 to 100 yards wide, swelling and boiling in a most tremendous manner." ---William Clark

The Long Narrows 1951

With no question, today's whitewater kayakers and rafters would enjoy a special thrill of retracing the Corps of Discovery's trek through these incredible sections of whitewater if they only could. But, most of the challenging rapids are just memories now after being submerged behind a series of hydroelectric dams in the 1950s.

William Clark's comments came from The Journals of Lewis And Clark, edited by John Bakeless,  copyright 1964.