OVER THE BOW: THE OTTER TAIL RIVER

The first river you paddle runs through the rest of your life. It bubbles up in pools and eddies to remind you who you are. -- Lynn Noel

It has been a long time since I've got to paddle the Otter Tail River in Minnesota. I started thinking about that while packing up and getting ready to move. Something about moving makes us feel nostalgic about the place we're leaving behind. We think about the things we'll miss. A neighbor, a restaurant or bar, and if you're like me, a favorite paddling place.

The Otter Tail River was the first river where I got a taste of whitewater. It's Minnesota's eighth-longest river running through the western part of the state before dumping into the Red River. It starts out as a narrow crystal-clear stream as it meanders downhill through the countryside's lakes and marshes. It doesn't move particularly fast but offers canoeists plenty of opportunities for wildlife views along the tranquil river trail. However, east of Fergus Falls, the Otter Tail River picks up speed after making an abrupt turn toward the west, running through a valley filled with Class I and II rapids.
Whitewater is uncommon in western Minnesota. The gradient of the land just doesn't drop that fast. In California, the gradient for popular whitewater sections is measured in feet per mile; but in northwest Minnesota, the gradient is gauged in inches per mile. So don't look for big drops. It has been said that a second-hand pool table has more of a slant to it than a northwestern Minnesota river.

That said, the Broken Down Dam site on the river just east of Fergus Falls has been offering thrills and spills for canoeists and kayakers wanting to take a small bite of whitewater. The crumbling dam has been mostly forgotten since its collapse over a century ago. Busting through its center, the river tumbles, swirls, and drops between two massive concrete walls. During the spring runoff or after a good summer rain, the stream can rage into a fast-moving Class III rapid. Combined with a boulder garden stretch of class II waves before reaching the dam's remnants, it's a perfect place for a whitewater kayak in a place where rapids are hard to find.

About ten years ago, I was just getting into paddling, and of course, just as I do today, I wanted the thrill and challenge of paddling rapids. With Sigurd Olson's words echoing in my head, "I know this: as long as there are young men with the light of adventure in their eyes and a touch of wildness in their souls, rapids will be run."
My son Cole and I dove in headfirst. We bought two used whitewater boats at a Twin Cities kayak auction. Probably, not the best fit, but it got us on the water. We took turns running that foam-laced section of the river one afternoon, feeling a sense of triumph after bounding through the crashing waves.

This move will be shorter than my move to California from the Midwest and the Otter Tail River. My wife Debbie and I are leaving Fair Oaks and moving up into the foothills of the Sierra Mountains, where we all know the rivers do rush, tumble, and fall. I will miss the closeness of some of my favorite paddling spots in the valley, but, unlike Minnesota rivers, I'll still be able to visit them from time to time.

 

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

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PADDLE BACK

There is something about paddling. The quiet rhythm of the blade sliding in and out of the water. The feel of my body's movement and tempo as I lean into the stroke and pull the paddle toward me. Relaxed, glide, I stroke again. Needing each other to cross the lake, my body and my kayak have become one. My feet, knees, and thighs are unseen under the bow swaying back and forth and holding steady to the course while my arms and torso, operating as a turbine, charge us forward. In each motion of the paddle, the horizon inches forward, and the rest of the world slips further behind.

The world is at peace except for hurried ripples made by the bow slicing through the stillness of the lake. Behind me, the water surface is now scratched and broken into millions of tiny undulations drifting into the calm of the lake. Ahead of me lies the illusion of a priceless mirror lying flat against the earth and reflecting images of the trees and hills cradling this canyon lake. The sky is jet blue, the shore is dark, and the water is an upside-down copy sharper than any photograph could ever produce.

Environmentalist and wilderness guide Sigurd Olson was more poetic in his description while paddling the lakes and forest of Northern Minnesota and Ontario, Canada. "If it is calm," he wrote in Open Horizons, "The canoes drifting through reflections with nothing to break the vast silence but the hypnotic swish of paddles, there are moments when one seems suspended between heaven and earth."

Not far ahead, a turkey vulture soars overhead with its wings tilted upward. With its ugly red-head and diet of the dead, it's not as majestic as the eagle or hawk. The bird is looked at with disdain to most. It circles and spirals on prevailing wind currents with little change to its large outstretched wings. It looms over the lake and canyon, holding me in a trance while I paddle below.

It has been a bad week. The vulture knows it. There are problems at work, troubles at home, and doctors with test results. Life is not as tranquil as this peaceful lake. Tribulations dwell outside these canyon walls, and that vulture wants to devour us.
I pass the outcropping of the tower rock formations that the vultures call home and whisper to myself.
"Not today, my friend. I maybe trampled, but I'm far from extinguished." I paddle on as the vulture slips out of sight.
"The first thing you must learn about canoeing is that the canoe is not a lifeless, inanimate object; it feels very much alive, alive with the life of the river," said filmmaker and canoeist Bill Mason in Path of the Paddle, "Life is transmitted to the canoe by the currents of the air and the water upon which it rides." 

There is energy and healing in the water. It has a power that Mason said instilled life into my kayak and now transfuses into me. Water has been revered throughout the ages for inspiring the human spirit with hope and tranquility.
In Psalm 23, one of the most quoted Bible verses of all time, David is led down beside quiet water, and his soul is restored.

This trip to the lake has rejuvenated my vitality in the same way as it has done countless times before. A friend once told when kayaking, she hardly can remember what day it is. The lake was her portal of escape and a place to rekindle her mind.
The sun is falling behind the ridge. Along the highest points, the sun still hits the glimmering peaks while the valley is turning shadow. It is time to turn around and paddle back to the access. It is a drug. A temporary high that always leaves me wanting more and more. This why I return to the lake every chance I can, so I can feel the paddle, its rhythm, and the sensation of the water. My consciousness is cleared and refocused.
"Penetrations into the unknown, " wrote Olson in Open Horizons, "All give meaning to what has gone before, and courage for what is to come. More than physical features, they are horizons of mind and spirit. When one looks backward, we find they have blended into the whole panorama of our lives."

In a few short hours on the lake, I have undergone a recharge. My mind is at ease, and my burdens have lifted. I paddle back restored.

This article was originally published Outside Adventure to the Max on June 27, 2015. 

Keep up with Outside Adventure to the Max, on our Facebook page and Instagram and now on Youtube.

Paddle Back

 

There is something about paddling: the quiet rhythm of the blade sliding in and out of the water, the feel of my body's movement and tempo as I lean into the stroke and pull the paddle toward me. Relaxed, glide, I stroke again. Needing each other to cross the lake, my body and my kayak have become one. My feet, knees and thighs unseen under the bow sway back and forth holding steady to the course while my arms and torso, operating like a turbine, charge us forward. In each motion of the paddle, the horizon inches forward and the rest of the world slips further behind.

The world is at peace except for hurried ripples made by the bow slicing through the stillness of the lake. Behind me, the water surface is now scratched and broken into millions of tiny undulations drifting into the calm of the lake. Ahead of me lies the illusion of a priceless mirror laying flat against the earth and reflecting images of the trees and hills cradling this canyon lake. The sky is jet blue, the shore is dark and water is an upside down copy sharper than any photograph could ever produce. 
Environmentalist and wilderness guide Sigurd Olson was more poetic in his description, while paddling the lakes and forest of Northern Minnesota and Ontario, Canada. "If it is calm," he wrote in Open Horizons, "The canoes drifting through reflections with nothing to break the vast silence but the hypnotic swish of paddles, there are moments when one seems suspended between heaven and earth."

Not far ahead, a turkey vulture soars overhead with its wings tilted upward.  With it's ugly red-head and diet of the dead, its not as majestic as the eagle or hawk . The bird is looked at with disdain to most. It circles and spirals on prevailing wind currents with little change to its large out stretched wings. It looms over the lake and canyon, holding me in a trance while I paddle below.
It has been a bad week and the vulture knows it. There are problems at work, troubles at home and doctors with test results. Life is not as tranquil as this peaceful lake. Tribulations dwell outside these canyon walls and that vulture wants to devour us. 
I pass the outcropping of the tower rock formations that the vultures call home and whisper to myself
"Not today my friend. I maybe trampled, but I'm far from extinguished." I paddle on as the vulture slips out of sight.

"The first thing you must learn about canoeing is that the canoe is not a lifeless, inanimate object; it feels very much alive, alive with the life of the river," said film maker and canoeist Bill Mason in Path of the Paddle, "Life is transmitted to the canoe by the currents of the air and the water upon which it rides."
There is energy and healing in the water. It has power that Mason said instilled life into my kayak and now transfuses into me. Water has been revered throughout the ages for inspiring the human spirit with hope and tranquility.
 In Psalm 23, one of most quoted Bible verses of all time, David is led down beside quiet water and his soul is restored.
 This trip to the lake has rejuvenated my vitality in the same way, as it has done countless times before. A friend once told when kayaking she hardly can remember what day it is. The lake was her portal of escape and a place to rekindle her mind.
The sun is falling behind the ridge. Along the highest points, the sun still hits the glimmering peaks while the valley is turning shadow.  It is time to turn around and paddle back to the access. It is a drug. A temporary high that always leaves me wanting more and more. This why I return to the lake every chance I can, so I can feel the paddle, it's rhythm and the sensation of the water. My consciousness is cleared and refocused.
"Penetrations into the unknown, " wrote Olson in Open Horizon, "All give meaning to what has gone before, and courage for what is to come. More than physical features, they are horizons of mind and spirit, and when one looks backward, we find they have blended into the whole panorama of our lives."
In a few short hours on the lake, I have undergone a recharge. My mind is at ease and my burdens have lifted. I paddle back restored.

Kids & Kayaks

We sat on the bank and the river went by. As always, it was making sounds to itself, and now it made sounds to us. It would be hard to find three men sitting side by side who knew better what a river was saying.  Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It.

This Father's Day weekend I will enjoy the company of my oldest son visiting from Omaha. We will try to fit many things into his week-long visit, including reminiscing about our previous kayak and camping trips we have enjoyed together.

The other day, my wife asked me when I had developed such a keen interest in water sports and if I had kayaked growing up.  In Nebraska, we really didn't have access to water outside the public swimming pool where I learned to swim. My dad was a hunter. He took my brother and I hunting almost every fall weekend for upland game birds and fishing only a couple of times.  He would pack up the family station wagon every summer with camping gear and take us on cross-country trips to central Nebraska, the Black Hills and even to California. He would often pick scenic state parks to visit that included a lake or river for swimming. It was those summer camp outs and hunting trips that offered my first taste of exploring the outdoors.

My junior high school offered canoes trips along the Missouri and Niobrara rivers which were my first paddling experiences. Those great trips that I took with friends and classmates planted a seed in me that would later grow into a passion.

However through college, building a career and raising a young family those canoe trips turned into someday-dreams. In Fargo where the lakes are 45 minutes away, I didn't have the time and I didn't make the time. There was always a something else to do such as a work assignment, a doctor visit or another bill to pay. The water might as well have been a million miles away.
But then something great happened. My kids transformed from babies to creatures of action and adventure.
They wanted to camp. They wanted to canoe. They wanted to explore.
My kids were attending and working at summer camps offered through Boy Scouts and Campfire. Adults were needed to supervise and insure safety. That is what I told myself, but I came because it was fun. It opened a whole new world for me that I had forgotten. I was hooked again.

Before long I was attending the camps with them and taking them along on our own family adventures. Back on the water for at least a few days a year, my enthusiasm was just beginning. A couple of years later I bought three kayaks, some PFDs and paddles. I wasn't a real live kayaker yet, but I was getting there. The next season we added some whitewater boats and a tandem kayak to the fleet. The tandem meant we did not have to leave the dog behind.

On our paddling and camping trips into Minnesota, we stayed at scenic state parks with water access. After setting up the tents and exploring the lake or river, we remembered the day's journey fondly that night by the campfire. Some of my best fatherhood memories have taken place fireside with my kids. Laughter and reminiscing circled like the smoke from the fire.

"Remember the time at camp?" Taylor, my oldest would start.

"You mean the time that kid's swimsuit was hung on the flag pole?" added Cole, my youngest while roasting marshmallows.

Along with a collection of others, I had heard that story a dozen times before. I'm sure the trees that surround the campsite have heard thousands more like it.  I listened to the telling and retelling of their tales again like it was the first time. The jumble of camper's hi jinx and mischief have turned into family fables. Taylor has a way of stretching one story to another and another providing nostalgic entertainment. I have often said there is no one better around a campfire than Taylor. Even the trip we were on would later be a story at some distant campsite to come.

The next day brought more paddling, exploring and spending time together. The trip would end too quickly with a stop for ice cream or pizza or both on the way home.
 
So on this Father's Day weekend, may all dads and their kids build classic tales of their time together along the water. Those adventures will live in their memories and will be told over and over again as long there kayaks, canoes and campfires.

Over The Bow: The Otter Tail River

 
The first river you paddle runs through the rest of your life. It bubbles up in pools and eddies to remind you who you are.  -- Lynn Noel

It was an uncommonly warm day in March of 2012. That year's winter was unfamiliar, to begin with. It had been a snowless Christmas for the area for the first time in 50 years and only a few snowstorms followed into February.  The Red River Valley's rivers weren't on the rampage for the first time in years and their winter top coat of ice was being shed easily. Temperatures were racing into the 70s,  making it hard to resist my first trip kayaking that year. I ordinarily started in late April while living in Fargo, N.D.  Paddling in the upper Midwest is a seasonable transition. Break the kayaks out in the late spring. Paddle as much as you can all summer long. Dodge the leaves, rain then snowflakes during autumn and grumble about the cold while stowing the boat away for the long winter.
The Otter Tail River was clear, low and running slow. I always kicked off my paddling seasons on that river. It is a delightful waterway weaving through woods, marshes and farmlands in the heart of Minnesota's lakes country. I would be paddling upstream from the highway access off 210 just east of Fergus Falls. Its popular put in and take out spot along the river during the summer for canoeists and tubers alike. However, that day I had the river to myself.
 I would loop in and out of the channel going up river. In the shadows, snow was still clinging to the banks of the river. Around a bend, I came across the large sheet of ice spanning most of the river. It had the look of a glacier. The March sun, however, was taking control.  The ice was being rapidly melting away with each drip falling back into the river. Spring was on its way and the paddling season had begun.

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

Foul Weather Fan

  No epic adventure started with "On a bright sunny day. . ." tweeted adventurer Sean Conway.

We were grateful for the rain. It has been very dry since Christmas. Raindrops bounced off the windshield in big thuds before the wipers could push them away. We were driving down a winding road to the lake after leaving the highway. Gray clouds were everywhere as the lake came into view.  As we parked and began unloading the sky unloaded on us.

What is about adverse weather that makes my boat trips more memorable? A man vs nature type endeavor.  I'm not saying, I don't like bright sunny days. I really do. Nothing is better than kayaking along while being kissed by the sun. In a state known for its sunshine, I have experienced lots of dazzling days this past year. However, across most the country unfavorable climates and kayaking coexist. Snow, rain. sleet and fog are paddled through heartily.

Both Canoe & Kayak and Adventure Kayak magazines always publish photos of boat men and women manning up against the harsh environment. Sarah Outen and Justine Cugenven pounding through heavy wind, rain and waves while making their way through the Aleutian Islands, while kayak adventurer Daniel Fox's expedition from Victoria B.C., to San Francisco experienced a full blast of nature making his trip come to an end.
"The wave literally fell on me, and within a second the kayak was broken in two below my  knees," Fox told, Canoe & Kayak, "It was quite a swim."

The heavy rain didn't last long. Just long enough to send two fishermen running for cover and get our gear and kayak seats a little wet. This was the first time my kayak partner Erik Allen had brought me to Rollins Lake. The lake at 2,100 elevation is on the western side of the Sierra near Colfax, California. It is 900 acre reservoir with 26 miles of shoreline, perfect for paddling year round. Erik was on mission to scout out some trails near the mouth of the Bear River. Our plan was to kayak up the lake and river as far as we could before the current pushed us back.
 The water looked like green emerald under the gray skies. We kayaked along the rust color shore, breaking up the quiet water. Around the bend loomed a bank of mist hanging over the lake. Erik, who grew up close by has paddled the lake many times before, but for him there is always something new.
"Rollins Lake is always changing," whispered Erik, "It never looks the same."

Lakes are like that. I thought back to my paddling days in Minnesota, remembering the way the snow looked along the shore of Red River Lake and the way the rain came down in the early spring on Beers Lake in Maplewood State Park. The day's conditions has framed many of my paddling memories. My sons will always start their tale of camping with, "Remember how cold it was or how it rained when we went to..." The day's weather has added to our experiences whether it was fair or foul.    

A layer of fog engulfed us as we paddled farther along.  It was like floating on a cloud. I let Erik  paddle up farther ahead so I could get a photo. Before long he disappeared in the white haze dropping into the unknown.      

Our paddle through the mist added to the magic of our trip to the lake. The rainy and foggy weather are now etched into another paddling memory.
If you wait for the perfect day. You will never go. "Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating," said English writer John Ruskin, "There is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather."

 

Urban Paddler

The Mississippi River and downtown St Paul, Minnesota.

There is a whirl of activity at Hidden Falls Park in St. Paul, Minnesota. Shuttle buses are coming and going. Kayaks and canoes are being unloaded and carried to the grassy staging area next to the river. Numbers are have been assigned, pictures are being taken, while water, apples and granola bars are packed into the boats. It is the annual Migthyssippi River Adventure Race day on the Mississippi River. Over a 100 hundred paddlers have signed up for the 14-mile charity event through the Twin Cities. The paddler's instructions on the river are easy: Be Safe, stay to the right of the river when traveling downstream. Avoid all boats and barges and have fun.
A countdown from the loudspeakers and soon the river is filled with kayaks and canoes of every color and size. Before long the paddlers spread out going past Fort Snelling State Park and the skyline of St Paul giving each one their own perspective of the famous river. At times it is gritty and industrial, but also offers an oasis of nature in the heart of city dwellings.
Most paddlers feel like they are discovering it for the first time. They are surprised that an urban river can contain so much beauty and nature. It happens all the time for urban paddlers. The waterways thought to be dirty and polluted are found clean, inviting and full of wildlife. On the Red River between Fargo and Moorhead, I have seen deer, beaver and even a bald eagle along the bends of the rivers just blocks away from downtown. River otters splash and hide in the rocks underneath the Rainbow Bridge over Lake Natoma and the American River, while farther down Californian quail, deer, and Canadian geese find a haven in the sloughs.

The American River Parkway

On the river urban views are blocked by trees. The only reminder that one is even close to civilization is going to the cities train and highway bridges. The buzz of traffic echoes off the water giving us the only clue we are close to home. In some places, we go back in time past turn of the century mills and remnants. Along the Red River on the Moorhead side, I can still find broken bottles from the prohibition days when North Dakota was dry and Minnesota taverns were right on the river. On the American River, huge piles of dredge tailings are still visible from gold mining days. The waterways are no longer highways or dumping grounds and the rivers have now reclaimed their banks.

Paddling in downtown Fargo, North Dakota.

Canoeist Natalie Warren founder of the outdoor education nonprofit Wild River Academy has trekked the waterways across the country to observe how rivers are promoted in their communities. In a recent interview with Canoe & Kayak Magazine said, "When I paddled urban rivers from Minneapolis to Hudson Bay and from Minnesota down to the Gulf of Mexico, I realized that our local water trails have their own beauty and, even more, provide a classroom to learn how our country uses rivers. My experiences on wild and urban rivers inspired me to speak about building a culture around urban paddling, diversifying the paddling community, and increasing recreation, positively impacting all aspects of society."

Natalie Warren left and Ann Raiho in Fargo, N.D., during the 2011 Minneapolis to Hudson Bay Trip

Warren's goal is to increase recreation through the public waterways in river towns with the addition outfitters, hiking and bike paths, restaurants and interpretive centers, campgrounds and most important access to the water.
 "I hope to highlight the positive ripple effects of opening up to the river and prioritizing water trails to improve recreation and trails, tourism and economies, and increased environmental education and ecosystem health. It all starts with a paddle in the water. Every time you paddle locally you are partaking in a larger movement for the betterment of communities, ecosystems, and the future of river-town economies."
Paddlers taking part in the Mightyssippi River Adventure finished the day under the Interstate 94 bridge, 14 miles downstream. They came away with sore muscles and smiles with this annual day on the Mississippi. Of course for some, this experience is only a warm up to their annual Boundary Waters trip or lifelong dream of going down the Grand Canyon. However, paddling locally and exploring their neighborhood water trail gave them a low-cost view of the river, right in their own backyard.

Personal Record One Hundred Paddling Days

I took part in the Sacramento Paddle Pusher's attempt to break the largest free-floating raft of canoes and kayaks on a single body of water this past weekend.  The world's record set August 31, 2013, in Michigan's Sutton Bay is a staggering 2,099 boats. Our local organizers were optimistic for a good turnout.  However, they were pretty sure from the start they wouldn't be breaking any world's record. It really wasn't the point of the event anyway. As stated in the Meet Up invite... It's something us local paddlers can do, look back one and say I was a part of the biggest group of paddlers out on Lake Natoma. It's all about having fun.
So when 47 of us paddled out under the Folsom Avenue Bridge for a group picture, it didn't matter that we were 2,953 paddlers short of the world record. We were making a vivid lasting memory of kayaking together. A personal account to say hey, I did it.
Personal records are like that too. Just the day before,  I had set another PR for myself by reaching 100 days of kayaking. There is something very special going over the century mark in all facets of sports from rushing yardage to one hundred victories. The triple-digit number is a mark of achievement.
I did it before in 2012. Winter came to end suddenly that year and I was kayaking on the Otter Tail River in March. I cruised to the most I ever paddle in a year with 117 days. It is still my personal record. If the Red River hadn't a frozen over before Thanksgiving,  I might have added a day to two.  Our personal records are like that. They drive us for more.
In a recent Rapid magazine profile, pro-kayaker Dane Jackson called his 270 days on the water in 2013, a slow year, disappointed by not reaching 300.  For those us like me and Jackson, we always long for just one more day on the water. A record to nobody but to ourselves.
In California now, my PR has taken on a Roger Maris like asterisk, by reaching 100 days in the middle of August instead of mid-September. This time around I didn't have to struggle with frozen and flooding Minnesota rivers and lakes. I got started January 1st, a full two and half months advantage over that 2012 season.  I took full advantage of pleasant weather and my proximity to Lake Natoma and lower American River to aid in my quest for getting to 100. It just seems unfair getting in a kayak day, while hearing that the rest of the country is enduring the polar vortex.
Still, a season is a season. I looked out over Folsom Lake on my hundredth day and paddled toward the foothills. I was a notable day for me and needed a memorable trip. I paddled up the south arm of the lake till I could go no further.  Where the South Fork flows into the lake, I watched the water rushing over the rocks wishing I could go a little farther. Still looking for more. I will just have to save that adventure for another paddling day.

Paddling from Here to There.

"When you wake up and discover the hurt places don't run. Sink your paddle in and ride the river. Every time. Dive in, let the river take you..." 

  That is what Charles Martin's book said in Where the River Ends, a story about a husband taking his dying wife on one last canoe trip. I read that book after my wife died in 2010.  Soon after that,  I was kayaking.
  I never kayaked much before. Sure, I took high school and church canoe trips, went camping with the Boy Scouts and went on the occasional hike, but it was limited. I was always drawn to the outdoors and the water, especially the water.
  There is healing in the water. In my grief, I found peace in touring the rivers and lakes in Minnesota. The year of her death,  I bought 3 kayaks for my family and I. We kayaked some 44 days before winter froze over the season. Up north, you trade your paddle for cross country ski poles and wait for it to warm up. It seemed like a good way to honor her memory and at the same time continue to look at new horizons.
  The next year I added three more kayaks and recorded 66 days paddling. Living in Fargo, ND at the time, I always knew there were lakes and rivers just across the border in Minnesota.  I had the interest to see what they had to offer. All in all, I visited some 15 Minnesota state parks; kayaked on 8 rivers and countless lakes including Lake Superior. The river trips included the St Croix, Rum, Kettle and a whitewater trip to Wisconsin.
  The following year I kayaked 117 days. Spring came early to Minnesota that year and by then I had the passion, strength and determination to paddle from when the ice breaks on the Otter Tail River to when it returns again in the late fall. I went up and down 11 rivers, even more, lakes and added 9 more Minnesota parks to my passport. It was a pretty remarkable year. The next year, I thought would be more of the same.
  However, I didn't even come close. Only 56 days on the water in 2013. I guess that is what happens when you get married, sell your house and 3 kayaks and move away. It was a good effort even to make that many days on the water. Goodbye Red River and Minnesota and hello California.
  I did gain a new paddle partner with my wife Debbie and a boundless frontier of new places to paddle. I live just down the street from Lake Natoma and the American River with a good view of the Sierra. The ice will never keep me off the water again. Since the first of the year, I have already been out 7 days so far. For some, that'snot many, but for me, it is a blistering pace for the year.
 I'm looking forward to more adventures on the water every time I load my boat up. Paddling is just something I need to do now. Now like air, it is something I will always need to keep me alive.

On Folsom Lake New Year's Day 2014