THE WATER GENE

We are never far from the lilt and swirl of living water. Whether to fish or swim or paddle, of only to stand and gaze, to glance as we cross a bridge, all of us are drawn to rivers, all of us happily submit to their spell. We need their familiar mystery. We need their fluent lives interflowing with our own. ---John Daniel  

"Will I really need this?" Cole asked me.
I looked down at the fast flowing  South Fork of the American River,  our kayaks and then to one of my two crumpled up wetsuits I was handing him. The full neoprene wetsuit would be warm on that day, however, the water was even colder.
"It's pretty cold, " I said, "That water was snow a few weeks ago."

That is how I offer fatherly like advice. Usually by stating the obvious.  El Nino had provided moisture for a great spring runoff quenching the thirst of Northern California's dry rivers. However, my youngest son Cole didn't know that. This was his first trip down the South Fork. I promised Cole since moving here,  I would take him whitewater kayaking to coax him to come for a visit. He had experienced some whitewater back in Minnesota and Wisconsin, but he had never paddled anything like the South Fork before. It would take a learning curve.
He also hadn't paddled in over three years. That's not to say he hasn't been on the water most of the time. He was on leave from the U.S. NAVY and just back from a deployment. I joked with that he needed a bumper sticker saying "My Other Boat is the USS Arlington."

As I watched him roll into his west suit, all my memories of paddling and trips with him flooded into the back of mind. It wasn't so long ago I was taking him on his first canoe ride on Lake Trowbridge and camping trip to Lake Bemidji State Park. In those days, I was sure he would always be eight-years-old and hoping he would inherent my same love of paddling.

"This is why I am teaching you to kayak rivers," wrote Canoe & Kayak Magazine contributing editor Christian Knight in a 2014  Father's Day letter to his daughter, " The river will be the objective disciplinarian I can never force myself to be. It’ll reward you with euphoria when you do well and punish you when you don’t."
"I realize, of course, you are only 8-years-old now." he continued in his letter,  "I haven’t even taught you how to Duffek or how to roll. I’m still sheltering you from eddy lines that stretch and yawn into miniature whirlpools. I still clutch your cockpit through rapids that are whiter than they are green. If somehow, you do flip, I’ll pray you’ll have the composure to remember the steps I have instructed you to repeat back to me before sliding into every river we’ve paddled together."

Everyone knows that blood is thicker than water. But, when they're mixed together with an enthusiasm and determination to kayak or canoe, it becomes an overpowering energy, consuming of one's genetic makeup. It's the natural and instinctive need to be on the water, or as  fellow paddler, Kim Sprague calls it "The Water Gene." And when passed down to one's children, they will have an ingrained deep-rooted essential need to seek out rivers, lakes, and oceans. Hence: They were born to paddle.

When Cole and I slid into the South Fork we were paddling together for the first time in three years. The river carried us away swiftly through a line of standing waves.  He lights up smiling and says to me "This is fun!"
His "Water Gene" ancestry had kicked in with each dip of his paddle. I have no idea where I got mine. My dad wasn't a boater, but he took our family swimming every summer in Nebraska lakes and made sure I took part in school and church canoe trips. My dad would marvel then on how I could single handily turn the 17-foot Grumman aluminum canoe past the bridge abutment and back through the eddie line and right up to the landing. He might not have paddled, but at least he helped get me to the water's edge.

"My Dad showed me the importance of finding my own serenity." wrote Wet Planet Whitewater's   Courtney Zink, in a tribute to her father,  "His love for water stems from that, and from spending that time with him in canoes on calm lakes, rowing through rapids, and fishing from river banks, he introduced me to that connection as well. That has brought me back to the Northwest as an adult, to stand on the banks of the Washington whitewater and find a sense of peace and balance in the chaos of the river."

In running the popular surfing wave area paddlers know as Barking Dog,  I told him to wait upstream while I cruised down along the side of it so I could get some video and pictures. Now I'm sure many have gone through "The Dog" backward before both planned and unplanned. But, probably not on their first time through it. Cole paddled down after my signal and positioned himself looking upstream on the edge of the wave paddling with all of his might to stay there, before rolling back into the rapid. I held my breath and thought he hasn't paddle for a long time as he disappeared underwater. A moment, to my relief he rolls upright.  He has the water gene alright.
"I kind of hurt my shoulder when I rolled back." he later told me, "That's why I couldn't get right away. The second or third time I got back up."

I was proud like all dads would be. It was just like he'd scored the winning run or came in first in the race by handling that wave so well. A little family honor was upheld. The current Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau knows about that family “rite of passage”.  When you grow up in Canada you need to know how to canoe early, especially if your father Pierre Elliott Trudeau. The elder Trudeau was Canada 15th prime minister and had a passion for paddling in the Canadian wilderness.

"Maybe my most indelible canoe memory from that cottage was one of the rites of passage for the Trudeau boys," the younger Trudeau recalled in an essay in Cottage Life magazine,  When we hit five or six years old, our dad would put us into the canoe and we’d shoot the rapids on the stream that went down into Meech Lake. There’s a little dam there, and in the spring they’d open the dam, and there would be a huge V and a standing wave. With much trepidation, we’d sit in the front and go down the drop. I look back on it now and laugh because my father was sterning, and there was nothing I could do from the bow to aim it right—but it was very, very important for us to do it. To get into the bow of a canoe with my father for the first time, to be the bowman for the first time, and to go down this big, scary rapid."

High flows mean high times on the South Fork of the American River. We followed each other along trading off the lead back and forth the rest of the way through the bouncy waves and churning rapids.  It was a treat to paddle with him after such long time. Every day in Father's Day when I get to paddle with him and see him challenging the currents and lines of the river. He is my paddling legacy flowing from my water gene pool.

We had just finished the run to add to our memories, when Cole said, "I'm sure glad you brought those wet-suits. That water was cold." Once again I stated the obvious. "Well, it's my job to take care of you"

SIERRA HIGH, LOON LAKE PART II

The day ended with a Dan Crandall bear story by firelight. We had just gotten off the water after viewing the Perseid Meteor Shower on the lake. The fire was slowly fading and in Dan's story the bear was closing in. Across the glowing embers, I saw other campers melting into their camp chairs as their sleepy eyes and yawns were revealed by the fire's flicker before sinking back into the shadows. Their muscles were stiff and sore from the day's paddling across the lake. Many had already retired to the comfort of their tents, while others put off the inevitable crash into their sleeping bags hoping to make the day last just a bit longer.

"I think a lot of people want to go back to basics sometimes," wrote former Canadian Prime Minister and paddler Pierre Elliott Trudeau in his memoirs, "To get their bearings. For me, a good way to do that is to get into nature by canoe – to take myself as far away as possible from everyday life."

Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips has hosted this two-day overnight one-of-a-kind camping experience in August for almost ten years. During the days, paddlers escape the heat while exploring the pine-scented Loon Lake in the Crystal Basin Recreation Area east of Lake Tahoe, while at night campers are treated to a night-time paddling experience to view the Perseid Meteor Shower. All the meals and paddling gear are provided, freeing kayakers up to only de-stress and unwind in the realm of nature.

"I don't know.  I lost count," said Dejaun Archer, when asked how long she has attended these camp outs.  "It's probably been about seven or eight trips. I like the group, I like the people. It's just really great. The food is great. The scenery is great. It's just a lot of fun.  As long as they keep doing them, I'll keep coming."

Pristine blue water, textured granite shore and clear skies greeted the group of 20, mostly women boaters earlier that day for their first trip on to the lake. I was along for my second year as a guide for the trip but still felt the same thrill as everyone else while lowering the kayaks into the water. While most had paddled a kayak before, with each cast off I sensed their brimming excitement of exploring the unknown. At 6,378 feet, Loon Lake features 10 miles of boulder-lined shoreline with awe-inspiring views of the Sierra Nevada, however, the California drought had taken a toll on the mountain reservoir this year. At about 50 percent of its normal level, the lake's crystal clear water was significantly lower than my last visit. Our usual hidden-away paddling destinations and coves were now parched and dry. The popular visit to the tunnel on the east end of the lake turned into a hike instead of a paddle. Loon Lake paddling veteran Archer didn't let the drought soak up the fun.

"I don't think it (the lake) is any different, but it is lower." said Archer, "We got to walk into the tunnel. I have never done that. I have been here when you couldn't see the tunnel at all. I have been here when the tunnel was very short and you couldn't go in it, and I've been there when we kayaked in it. Now this time we got to walk in it, which I thought was really cool."

The lake might be low, but the trip was full of laughter and springing with new friendships as the boaters paddled along the lake shore. Each paddler shared the enthusiasm of kayaking with one another. Some speeding ahead together, while others hung back embracing the beauty and calm of the day's journey side by side.  Dinner and the campfire afterward provided more laughs, some wine, and camaraderie.

"It's a pretty good group," said Current Adventures' Dan Crandall, "Most of them are doing something they have never tried before and enjoyed it. They all came as strangers and are leaving as friends. They will all probably end up paddling together. That's kayaking."

The smoldering embers ignite one last time, while the bear in Dan's story backs off and ambles back into the woods. Above me, the last meteor shoots through the stars perfectly framed by the silhouettes of towering majestic pines. I look into the night sky and ponder Trudeau's profound words...

"A canoeing expedition…involves a starting point rather than a parting. Although it assumes the breaking of ties, its purpose is not to destroy the past, but to lay down a foundation for the future. From now on, every living act will be built on this step, which will serve as a base long after the return of the expedition…. and until the next one."