SWIMMING LESSONS

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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OVER THE BOW: FOLSOM LAKE

“It is all very beautiful and magical here—a quality which cannot be described. You have to live it and breathe it, let the sun bake it into you. The skies and land are so enormous, and the detail so precise and exquisite that wherever you are you are isolated in a glowing world between the macro and the micro, where everything is sidewise under you and over you, and the clocks stopped long ago.” – Ansel Adams

Folsom Lake rises and falls with the seasons. At its fullest in early part summer, the lake features some 10,000 surface acres of water and has 75 miles of shoreline. While during the winter the lake level drops to a thirsty and parched skeleton of its former self.

As part of the Folsom Lake State Recreation Area, the reservoir and Folsom Dam is a large watery expanse that extends about 15 miles up the North Fork of the American River, and about 10 1/2 miles up the South Fork of the American River located about 25 miles east of Sacramento, California. As a multipurpose waterway, the reservoir supplies much of the area's water supply while the dam operated by the United States Bureau of Reclamation provides both flood protection and hydropower. For outdoor enthusiasts, it's a recreational destination for water-related sports as well as biking and hiking along its rugged oak-lined shores.

Most paddlers will forgo summer weekends on the lake escaping the speed boat and jet ski crowd that usually creates an ocean of waves. Late fall and early spring provide the best conditions for paddling. 

It was on a late fall day a few seasons back that I made this trek to the lake near Dotons Point. A forest fire raging nearby had smothered the lake with a layer of smoke, while the low lake levels had left behind a dried stark and wondrous moonscape. The roads and paths to the water were blocked with large sharp rocks or gooey mud. The best solution was to find a level spot to park and carry the boat across the barren lakeshore to the water below.

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

The Mission to Break Down Barriers to the Outdoors

Our friends at NRS and American Rivers are committed to cultivating common ground among diverse communities and making outdoor recreation welcoming and accessible to all.
Each Thursday in June, they will celebrate the experiences that make our hearts beat faster and fuller, sparking a dialogue to move our world forward—and having a bit of virtual fun, including exciting giveaways. Join the conversation. They invite you to share your stories with them and invite your friends to join the conversation by tagging #JustAddWater on social media.

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SWIMMING LESSONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

OVER THE BOW: LAKE CLEMENTINE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Duncan Mine: Class V Kayaking With Carson Lindsay

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

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

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

Courtesy of Scott Blankenfled

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

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

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THE AUBURN RIVER FESTIVAL

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SNAKE CHARMED

Many a time I have merely closed my eyes at the end of yet another trouble some day and soaked my bruised psyche in wild water, rivers remembered and rivers imagined. Rivers course through my dreams, rivers cold and fast, rivers well known and rivers nameless, rivers that seem like ribbons of blue water twisting through wide valleys, narrow rivers folded in layers of darkening shadows, rivers that have eroded down deep into the mountain's belly, sculpted the land, peeled back the planet's history exposing the texture of time itself. --- Harry Middleton

Loading up at other places that people find easier to get to. I sometimes get into conversations with boaters about where they like to paddle around  Sacramento.
"Have you ever been up to Rattlesnake Bar?" I'll ask them.
The answer is usually either bewilderment or not for a long time as they think of the last time they were up there.

Rattlesnake Bar is part of the California State Parks Folsom Lake Recreation Area. Located on the on the north arm of the lake, it's down a long dead-end road after the fork winding past white fences and horse barns towards the entrance of the park.

The lake glistens, flashing through the oaks and willows while driving down the narrow road after entering the park. During the drought years not too far back, it looked more like Mars seeing the dusty remnants of the lake. But, this year the lake is brimming. The lake is 50 feet higher than last year. Going into the last week of September, many recreation lakes in California have the highest lake levels for this date in more than 10 years.

Forget weekends. Come to Rattlesnake Bar mid-week in the summer or wait till late fall or early spring to escape the speed boat and jet ski crowd. This is a playground for them all summer long when the lake is full and gate to the ramp is open.

The water was still touching the end of the ramp on my last visit. In previous trips, I can remember some lengthy treks while shouldering my kayak down the ramp or along an arduous trail down a steep bank to the lake. The guidebooks said to watch for rattlesnakes, hence the name, but, it should've of warned me about that thick layer of muck and slimy goo in front of the lake.

The water was a silty brown turned up by waves of jet skis and speed boats. It resembles more a choppy over perked coffee and cream color even past the 5 mph buoy about a mile north of the access. Those with a need for speed turn around and head back to the main part of the lake while those in search of the quiet of the lake, canyon and river, proceed on.

Past Mormon Ravine the lake widens and turns to the northeast. On the north side, the old Pony Express Trail is now a hiking path along the lake. Further up the lake narrows with rugged rocky ledges on both sides. I don't feel the tug of current on this visit, but I have before. It's common through here, for the lake to behave more like a river as the water level dictates where the river ends and the lake begins. There is a sudden change of water temperature and clarity as the cool mountain North Fork of the American River pours into the lake. It was now a refreshing cold and running transparently clear.

"I have never seen a river that I could not love," wrote Canadian writer and conservationist Roderick Haig-Brown, "Moving water...has a fascinating vitality. It has power and grace and associations. It has a thousand colors and a thousand shapes, yet it follows laws so definite that the tiniest streamlet is an exact replica of a great river."

When I started kayaking, I dreamed of these river places Haig-Brown called "Water in its loveliest form." A clear water passageway between massive ramparts of broken disheveled texture, as the once molten rock now crystallized over millions of years, is exposed, lifted and shattered along the fault lines while large boulders have become their own islands raising from the depths.

The stream,  flecked with little white waves and quiet inviting pools, while just around the bend there is the sound of the thundering water echoing off the chasm walls and the sight of a churning cascade, what naturalist John Craighead called, "A primeval summons to primordial values."

I have paddle upstream here before, even portaged through shallow rapids to the river's slow moving pools. On this trip, however, the lake covers those rapids and the low water landmarks I'm familiar with going to north past Pilot Creek.  At Oregon Bar Rapids, there is no need to go any further on this outing,  as the rushing water turns me back downstream.

Above Pilot Creek I found a nice flat rock and water warmed by the sun. I beached my kayak and surveyed my river surroundings. Upriver, I could see the foam of whitewater while down downstream the rugged curve of the canyon suffused amber light of the late afternoon sun. I spent a good chunk of time there becoming a kid again. Diving off rocks, swimming between dives and exploring the view of the canyon.

 Light and shadows dance across the water as the sun slips behind the horizon on my paddle back to Rattlesnake Bar. The hills and trees obscurity is offset by the warm glow of the water. My senses are awakened by the stillness and coolness of the air as I glided silently and almost effortlessly across the placid lake of golden glass.

"We do not want merely to see beauty, " said writer C.S. Lewis, "We want something else which can hardly be put into words to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it."

 And with each stroke of my paddle, I soaked in all the lake's and river's tranquil magic.

Lake Clementine Update
To make the extension to the boat ramp at Auburn State Recreation Area’s Lower Lake Clementine the ramp is be closed to vehicles and vessel launching until the lake refills to its normal level, which is estimated to happen by late October or early November. The Auburn Journal reported the extension will add about 10 feet of length to the boat ramp and is estimated to cost about $85,000 when complete. Breaking down the closure, it was estimated to8 to 12 days to lower the lake while the actual boat ramp extension project lasted five days. Then it will be another three to four weeks before the lake has refilled and launches allowed again.
The area will remain open to bicycle and foot traffic during the project.
Upper Lake Clementine will remain open on Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays and Mondays through the end of the month. From Oct. 1 to 15, the upper lake will be open Saturdays and Sundays only. After Oct. 15, Upper Lake Clementine will be closed for the season.

California Multi-Day Kayaking: Not Just for Class V Paddlers

BY OUTSIDE ADVENTURE TO THE MAX GUEST BLOGGER PETE DELOSA

I’ve been kayaking in the Sierra Nevada Mountain for nine years now, and it is hands down my favorite place to paddle. I’ve seen some amazing rivers with countless more I have yet to explore, and I’ve met some really amazing people along the way. If you ask paddlers around the world about whitewater in California, you will probably get a lot of responses referring to the classic multi-day trips that these mountains are known for. High sierra bed rock granite class V for days brings kayakers from all over the world even in years of low snow pack. What about those who want to explore some multi-day self support kayaking or raft support kayaking without having to face the extreme class V conditions of the high sierra? Are there still runs that make fun multi-day trips for the everyday paddler? Yes. Yes, there are. Here are a few suggestions for runs that make great overnight trips without the class V element.

• South Fork of the American (full river) Class III
  1. You probably already know this stretch pretty well. Why not start at chile bar on Saturday and camp on the BLM beach just downstream of greenwood on river right? Then, you can finish the trip through the gorge the next day. If you’re doing this when flows are normal, waiting on the release on Sunday morning makes for a great casual breakfast hangout by the rio.
• East Fork Carson Class II
  1. This 20 mile section in on the eastern slope of the Sierras has ample camping opportunities with hot springs at the half way point. I highly recommend this trip to anyone wanting to enjoy a weekend of paddling, camping, and hot springs.
• North Fork American (Giant Gap) Class IV
  1. This 13 mile run is typically done in one day but it could easily be split into a two day. This canyon is incredibly beautiful and would make a great spot to hang out with friends around a campfire for a night.
• Middle Fork of the American Class II-IV
  1. The tunnel chute run is long. Why not make an overnighter out of it? While you’re at it you could add another night or maybe even two going from the tunnel chute take out down to the confluence with the NFA. Double check my beta on this lower section because I haven’t actually done it, but I think it is a pretty nice class II paddle with just the one bigger rapid right at the confluence which would be an easy portage. You could also just overnight the lower section I think if you didn’t want to do the tunnel chute run.
  
  
  
  California based kayaker Pete Delosa is a member of Team Pyranha and sponsored by Immersion Research and Shred Ready. You can catch up with Pete on his blog River-Bum.com and watch his videos on You-Tube. 
  Outside Adventure to the Max is always looking for guest bloggers. Contact us at Nickayak@gmail.com if you are interested.
  
  

COLD RUSH

Ah, summer-time. Nothing better than after five years of extreme drought than enjoying the warm temperatures and refreshing coolness of area California rivers. However this year, one might find it too painful to even dip in their toes. The record-breaking Sierra snows are melting and creating very chilly fast-moving water for rafters, kayakers, and as well beachgoers.

“It’s freezing,” Renee Perfecto told the Sacramento Bee at the Watt Avenue access area along the American River Parkway, as she watched her three children play in shallow water away from the current. “If you get in knee-deep, the water’s ice-cold, but the kids don’t seem to mind.”

Upstream on the South Fork of the American River, the fresh runoff is translating into big rapids and excitement and area boaters are reaping the benefits.
“It was awesome, a little cold, it’s fast,” kayaker Eric Winkler told CBS13-TV.

Caution signs have been posted along the river in Coloma, Ca., reading “Cold, Fast Water.” River watchers there, say the river is flowing five times higher than it did the past four years.

“People aren’t used to this big water like we’ve had in the past. Five years of drought really impacts people’s ability to look at a river. They just don’t remember,” That's what Tulare County Sheriff’s Lt. Kevin Kemmerling told the Los Angeles Times about the Kern River, “This year, they think it’s the same river, but it’s five times as big.

California's Kern River had one of its deadliest Memorial Day weekends in 24 years after three people died on the river. Kemmerling said, that search and rescue teams also rescued more than 26 other people from sandbars, trees, and other precarious perches in the swiftly moving water over the holiday weekend.

“They get lulled into a false sense of security,” Kemmerling said in the same interview, “What they think is a tranquil river that they’re used to — the currents are running 12 mph. And you can’t swim out of it once you get into it.”

Four people have drowned so far this year in Sacramento waterways according to authorities. The most recent was a 19-year-old man who drowned after he jumped into the frigid North Fork of the American River and was quickly swept away.

An average of six people drowns every summer in Sacramento area waterways, with the accidents concentrated in areas such as Tiscornia Beach at Discovery Park. In 2015, 13 people drowned in the American and Sacramento rivers. Last year, no drownings were reported on them between Memorial and Labor Days. This year bracing for the worst, county, and city officials have decided to keep Discovery Park located at the confluence of the Sacramento and American rivers one of the area's popular beaches closed due to dangerous conditions.

“It’s incredibly high,” Jim Remick, a diver instructor for DART (Drowning Accident Rescue Team) told The Sacramento Bee along the American River Parkway, “The water is quite cold and dangerous. It’s an unprecedented thing for the county and city to close the beaches (on Memorial Day weekend), but the way the river is now, (the beaches) may stay closed until the Fourth of July.”

Tiscornia Beach also remains closed because of a winter storm and flooding damage. The park itself opened on a limited basis to allow people to launch boats.

FOUNTAINS OF FLOW

          
                 “Water is the driving force of all nature.” Leonardo da Vinci

A wave of storms has battered the Pacific coast this winter, hitting California particularly hard with heavy rains, mountains of snow and destructive flooding. It has all come after severe a drought that parched much of the state for the past six years. So while my area paddling chums are happy with the moisture recharging our area reservoirs and river. All this water, is too much of a good thing, keeping many paddlers away from usual peaceful waters that are now closed off to boating.

So between rains last week, with my familiar neighborhood location's water levels either too high, to treacherous or prohibited to paddling, I found myself at Folsom Lake State Recreation Area's Rattlesnake Bar on the north arm end of the lake. While taking in the flow from the North Fork of the American River, the lake in this past couple of weeks has been either up or down while accommodating California's rainy winter so far this season.

Now there has always been a long portage well past the gate at the boat ramp, as long as I've paddled there. It's been either lengthy trek down the ramp or an arduous trail along a steep bank to the water. The guidebooks say watch for rattlesnakes, hence the name. However, it should've of warned me about the thick layer of muck and slimy goo left behind after periods of high water blocking my path to the lake.

The easiest path, past the long boat ramp, looked like the La Brea Tar Pits. An oozing 100-yard field of muck, quicksand and flooded weeds before yielding to the lake. Going through there with my kayak in tow, I imagine myself quickly being sucked under like a scene out of Tarzan movie and entombed as a fossil of the lake.

The other path, much longer, of course, is a steep mountain goat like trail until you hit a slippery slope of sediment and rock about 20-yards or so down to the water.  Choosing this track with my kayak on my shoulder, I slid through the gunk down to the water edge like I was on ice skates.

Even away from the muddy shoreline, I was not far from its dinge. The fluctuating lake levels of this winter season had left the water a silty and turbid brown. It will, of course, clear up by summer, but now, it appeared as the color of coffee and cream. It was similar to my days on the Red River between North Dakota and Minnesota. There, I watch the blade of my paddle disappear with every stroke into the murky water, only to reappear after leaving it.

I have paddle upstream here before, even portaged through shallow rapids just past where the North Fork of the American River flows into the lake. However, on this trip, the current was confused agitated, pushing my sea kayak in all different directions. Gone were the idle pools of summer, replaced by boils, hard eddy lines and perturbed water that had other ideas.  After the first mile of going upstream, my kayak and I bent back, yielding to its flow and followed the lake's rocky shoreline.

Like the veins of blood returning to the heart, the water gushes back into the lake. Tiny capillaries of ravines, fissures, and crevices inundated with water, stream back to the vital artery of the river. It's plumber's nightmare. That constant resonance of running water from either that slow meticulous drip, drip, drip to the sound of that rushing cascade.

"Water does not resist," wrote Canadian poet, and environmental activist Margaret Atwood, "Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing, in the end, can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does."

Drifting alone, along the shore I find stream after stream flowing back to the lake. In one spot, a surge of water was passing through a green meadow, in another the water was rushing through a rocky gap, looking a mountain stream of crystal clear effervescence. The unexpected waterfall comes after twisting through the meandering channel just across from where I put in. A sweeping stream had cut away the side of the bank producing a mini version of the horseshoe-shaped Niagara Falls spilling over an embankment. It was the payoff for my afternoon paddle.

As long as I live, I'll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I'll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I'll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can. -- John Muir

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.

KAYAK SUMMER 2016

        When autumn dulls the summer skies, And paler sunshine softly lies --V.O. 
        Wallingford 

As summer comes to an end, I always look back on those long warm days and even nights on the water. Each day. Each and every one them was a unique adventure and experience for me. Kayaking towards a horizon of mountains on the reservoirs and lakes of the western Sierra or reading the river's flow and picking a good line whether going up or downstream. So when people ask me, which I prefer, the smooth and calm of the lakes or the swift or gentle flow of the river?  My answer of course is...well, both. For me, it would be like picking a favorite child.

Lake Natoma with Current Adventures

Yes, the call to the lake is forever powerful. As American writer and conservationist Henry David Thoreau said, "Lakes are something which you are unprepared for; they lie up so high, exposed to the light, and the forest is diminished to a fine fringe on their edges...So anterior, so superior, to all the changes that are to take place on their shores, even now civil and refined, and fair as they can ever be.""

South Fork of the American River

But, who can resist the pull of the river?
"Rivers are magnets for the imagination," said author Time Palmer,  "For conscious pondering and subconscious dreams, thrills, fears. People stare into the moving water, captivated, as they are when gazing into a fire. What is it that draws and holds us? The rivers' reflections of our lives and experiences are endless."

Lake Jenkinson

This past summer I paddled out on both lakes and rivers as often as could with my wife Debbie, my son Taylor or the gang at Current Adventures Kayak School & Trips.  So either,  a lake or a river it was an adventure in fun and friendship that keep my memories of summer burning bright.  Here are a few of my favorite images from this summer kayaking.

Lake Tahoe with Bayside Adventure Sports

Lake Clementine

Moonlight paddle on Lake Natoma

Lake Natoma

North Fork of the American River

Eppies Great Race

Loon Lake

End of Summer at Lake Jenkinson