RATTLESNAKE BAR & VIDEO

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." 

I always wanted to paddle that clear water passageway between massive ramparts of broken disheveled of once molten rock, now crystallized over millions of years. Where the rock is exposed, lifted, and shattered along the fault lines and large boulders have become their own islands as they raise from the depths of the river. It's rough, It's rugged. It's Rattlesnake Bar.

Rattlesnake Bar is part of the California State Parks Folsom Lake Recreation Area. Located on the north arm of the reservoir, 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. Suffering another year of drought, it sometimes looked more like Mars's dusty remnants. But it is springtime, and the lake is just over 50% of its total capacity which is just slightly below average for this time of year.

But even at half-full, the water comes nowhere near the end of the ramp. Bring a cart, or plan on a lengthy trek shouldering your 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 have warned you 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 speed boats. It resembles a choppy 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. 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 lake narrows with rugged rocky ledges on both sides. We don't feel the tug of current tell further up the canyon. But it's common through here. The lake behaves more like a river as the water level dictates where the river ends, and the lake begins. There is a sudden change in 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 paddled upstream here before and even portaged through shallow rapids to the river's slow-moving pools.  On this trip, however, the lake covers up those rapids.  At Oregon Bar Rapids, there is no need to go any further on this trip. The rushing water turns us back downstream.

Above Pilot Creek, we found a nice flat rock and water warmed by the sun. We beached our boats and surveyed our river surroundings. Upriver, we could see the foam of whitewater. Downstream, the rugged curve of the canyon suffused the amber light of the late afternoon sun. On warmer days, I've spent a good chunk of time there becoming a kid again by 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 our paddle back to Rattlesnake Bar access. The hills and trees' obscurity are offset by the warm glow of the water. My senses were awakened by the stillness and coolness of the air as we glided silently and almost effortlessly across the placid lake of golden glass.

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

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 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 the 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 have 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 paddled 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 tree's obscurity are 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.

This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max on September 29, 2017

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

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.

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

WEATHERING THE DROUGHT

As I approached the lake, the first thing that hit me is the size of the gaping gully a hundred or so yards below the boat ramp. We had already carried our kayaks down the long boat ramp and through the sand, grass and weeds in search of the lake access. Earlier this year, when the lake was full and showing signs of a hopeful summer, water lapped against the boat dock at the end of the ramp. Now looking parched and exposed, the route to the lake at Rattlesnake Bar is through a dusty and eroding narrow crack in the earth.


For many, the boating season is over. California State Parks have imposed a speed limit of 5 miles per hour (mph) at Folsom Lake State Recreation Area since mid-July. Water levels are low enough in many places to make for hazardous boating. The lake is being drawn down to record lows as part of a plan to rescue the endangered winter-run Chinook salmon along with providing water to the 200,000 people who rely on it daily.
"Visitors are welcome to come out and enjoy Folsom Lake,” said Superintendent Richard Preston of California State Parks. “We want to make sure our visitors are aware of the increase in underwater hazards as a result of the low water levels. We urge people to exercise extreme caution while boating on the lake, both for their safety and to prevent damage to their watercraft.”

The speed restriction is necessary because the low water level has brought rocks on the lake bed closer to the surface, placing boats in danger in the more shallow areas. It is critical for boaters to exercise caution and to keep a proper lookout for hazards. Its bad news for speed boaters, but it's an opportunity for kayaks, canoes and SUPs to explore areas of the lake that are usually underwater without heavy boat traffic. However, as we found out, it's a long way to the water's edge.

It's my paddling partner Carly Mariani's first time up the North Fork of the American River. I'm sure she expected a simple cruise around Lake Natoma instead of what I have in mind. Before the end of the day she will invent a new term "Hikayaking," a combination of hiking with your kayak.

We paddled along under a dazzling brilliant blue sky. From our kayak viewpoint, the lake forms into three layers. There is the blue of the water. The shoreline is a desolate layer with rocks and boulders arising from the depths and inhaling the sun for the first time. Overhead, a thin black bathtub ring lines the upper portions of the rust-colored canyon walls and stones revealing the former water mark. Above that lies the green and brown thirsty timberline and undergrowth.
The lakeshore now reminds me of the surface of the moon. Down towards the Granite Bay access, folks drive down to the water's edge across the baked and dehydrated lake bed devoid of any trees or vegetation. It is a winding trail through ruts, dips and boulders to get to the lakefront. For now, at least, there is some water.


In the fourth year of the California drought, some lakes and river areas are a gurgle of their former selves. The dwindling Kern and Truckee rivers have ended the boating and tubing seasons before the summer ever began. The Kern River Festival, which draws hundreds of professional and recreational paddlers each year, was canceled this spring for the first time in 51 years, while the Reno River Festival's signature kayaking competitions also were dropped.
"It's the worst drought we've seen in the 30 years we've been here," Tom Moore of Sierra South Paddle Sports told the LA Times, "We've sunk to new lows. "
Drydocks, barren landscapes with landlocked boats and boat ramps in puddles are some of the sights seen in the California Department of Water Resources' new aerial video shot above lakes Oroville, Shasta and Folsom reservoir. Their only hopes for more water cling to the expectation of this winter's El Niño forecast.

We ascended the North Fork much like climbing up an assemblage of steps. In places, the river is a trickle strangled through small rapids between placid pools. At each rapid we approach, we were forced to get out and wade through the rushing water. Footing was uneven and slippery. When the lake was higher, earlier in the spring, it was a relaxing upstream paddle. Now it's a shallow rocky fast-moving stream between pools. I reminded Carly over and over that the portages are a fun and exciting way to view the river as we will be well rewarded with a fun bouncy ride back on the return trip.


As we wondered about the next rapid on the horizon, weather forecasters are pondering El Niño. For months, climate scientists have said El Niño is likely to bring more rain to California this winter, The biggest question is, how much moisture and where will it fall?
“It’s still a bit premature to know if we’re going to have strong El Niño conditions during our wet season this winter, but the probabilities are increasing toward 80 percent or something,” told Marty Ralph, a climatologist with the Scripps Institution of Oceanography to NBC 7 San Diego.
After studying California weather for 25 years, he says this summer resembles the lead up to the strong El Niño of 1997-1998 when storms battered Golden State. Still, he believes it’s premature to say we’re in store for another winter like that one. “Wishcasting doesn’t mean it won’t happen."


Near the bone-dry Pilot Creek about 3 miles from Rattlesnake Bar, we found a nice-sized pool below a wave train of newly uncovered Class I rapids. Here a large rock with turtle-shaped head peers over the deep and blue water. This is where the river turns toward the east, and where our trip upriver stops.

In the springtime when the lake was high, I paddled further, but now we had to settle here.
After a snack and swim we will enjoy a quick jaunt back down river. The Class I and II flows, despite the drought, made for a fun exciting ride back to the lake.
To learn about all the actions California has taken to manage the water system and cope with the impacts of the drought, visit Drought.CA.Gov.

Bay to Bay

                                       

Lake Natoma

 Rivers are the primal highways of life. From the crack of time, they had borne men's dreams, and in their lovely rush to elsewhere, fed our wanderlust, mimicked our arteries, and charmed our imaginations in a way the static pond or vast and savage ocean never could. ---Tom Robbins 


Sometimes I'm just at a loss for words to describe the joy I have for kayaking along on a lake, a river and now the ocean. I got into boating roughly five years ago this month and haven't looked back. Each day on the water fades into a dream only a picture can tell. Bright days, cloudy days and moonlit nights have been chronicled in my photographs of my paddling adventures. Here are a few of my favorite images from this year so far.

Lake Natoma

Paddle Pushers on Lake Natoma

Moonlight Paddle on Lake Natoma

Lower American River

Rollins Lake

Folsom Lake

Folsom lake

Folsom Lake

North of the American River

San Francisco Bay

We are always looking for guest bloggers to share their adventures stories and pictures. Keep up with Outside Adventure to the Max on our Facebook page.

Rattlesnake Bar's Visionary Enchantment

“As we passed on, it seemed as if those scenes of visionary enchantment would never have an end.” --Meriwether Lewis

I have always found that visionary enchantment Lewis writes about on my trips at Folsom Lake State Recreation Area's Rattlesnake Bar and up the North Fork of the American River. Gliding in clear water along a passageway between massive granite ramparts cradling the lake and river. The canyon walls also flow in patterns of the stream. The once molten rock now crystallized over millions of years has been lifted and exposed. Thin-bedded sedimentary layers have been shattered and busted along the fault lines while large boulders have become their own islands raising from the depths.

When I started kayaking I dreamed of being in a place like this. These were the places pictured in the favorite kayak magazines. Quiet inviting pools of water with amazing scenery, while just around the bend the ripples have turned into churning cascades. The sound of the thundering water echoing off the chasm walls has always called to me.

It is a warm day in March and the lake running high. It’s a far cry from more than a year ago when I was driving and walking on the lake’s floor. Now the lake is nearly double with the water it at about 100 percent of normal, meaning the lake levels are where they should be, despite the ongoing drought. It's a good sign. I'm able to paddle farther into the North Fork's canyon than I have before, passing the long gone miner's gold camps. During the Gold Rush thousands of miners picked, dug and blasted along the banks of the river looking for fortune, but today it is only me finding the riches of the lake and stream.

Before long the placid lake turns into moving water. I feel the tug of current pushing me back. At a couple rapids, I leap-frog the fast water by portaging my kayak. I hopscotch between the uneven rock. The footing isn't great. I find sandy beaches below each rapid along with clear blue pools. In summer this would be an inviting spot for a swim. However, it is March and the water remains liquid snow from the Sierra. Swimming will have to wait till next time. I press on until being stopped by a long line of rapids.

I have lunch on the beach and then go with the flow. I catch the current enjoying a bouncy ride to quieter waters.

On the Darkside

 

 I have come to regard November as the older, harder man's October. I appreciate the early darkness and cooler temperatures. It puts my mind in a different place than October. It is a month for a quieter, slightly more subdued celebration of summer's death as winter tightens its grip.---Henry Rollins

I don't know why, but the falling back of one hour in daylight savings times always surprises me. I'm not ready for the dark. Before my eyes, the sun is being slammed into the horizon. Exploding into little bits before disappearing into the night. It happens all too fast.

I was paddling up to Rattlesnake Bar from Donton's Point on Folsom Lake. It is not usual kayak outing for me. I had never it done before and always wanted to do. The north arm of the lake turns from big open water to a narrow canyon. With low water, the rock formations climb out of the lake in dramatic fashion. For paddlers, this is the most interesting part of the lake. Round trip it's about 10 miles.

It was a late afternoon start at about three when I dropped my kayak in on the south side of Doton's Point. Each day the lake is being drawn down further and further. Driving down to the water's edge, the dry lake bed looks more like a dry desert or the moon. Parking on a high spot on the beach, the truck should be easy to see coming back.

The hanging sun dipped behind the clouds and hovered over the horizon behind me. I looked over my shoulder the whole time wishing I had more time. I had beaten the darkness before. Late summer nights while camping in Minnesota, I would paddle out for sunset trips across the lake. Listening to the loons, watching the orange ball sink into Lake Itasca and still have enough light to paddle back,  beach my kayak and light the campfire before nightfall.

Even this past summer, while helping out with evening paddles with Current Adventures we had beaten the dark. The paddlers we were training for Eppie's Great Race on the American River would finish just short of sunset. We would carry the kayaks up the hill at River Bend Park in the twilight and load up under the stars.

Yes, I had won the race against the darkness many times before. But, this time I was surprised. I had gone too far and still had to come back. This time I wouldn't beat the night. I would be paddling back in shadow. I hurried back as fast I could. My fingers and feet tingled as I pressed into the footpegs and paddle. Faster, faster I thought to try to will my kayak back to the put in. But, no matter how fast I paddled the sunlight was gone and night had prevailed.

I paddled back toward the lights of Folsom Dam. To the east, the full moon arose over the foothills. It provided some friendly comfort. I was not totally in the dark or alone anymore. I had been on a few full moon paddles before and found them quite tranquil when I was prepared. Hugging the shore,  I was looking for my truck. The land and water amalgamated into murkiness. I can't say I was lost. I knew the lake pretty well by now and I knew how to get back. It was more like fumbling around in a dark bedroom trying to find the light switch. I know it was there somewhere. I just have to keep looking.
The moonlight glistened on the water as I approached Donton's Point. In the shadows, I could make out the silhouette of the truck's body. I was back to my starting point tired and relieved. I loaded up and drove away thinking, I better get an earlier start next time. It was only a little past six.

Adventures at Rattlesnake Bar & Folsom Lake

The river called. The call is the thundering rumble of distant rapids, the intimate roar of white water . . . a primeval summons to primordial values. — (John Craighead, Naturalist Magazine (Autumn 1965)
  Where the North Fork of the American River flows into Folsom Lake is one of my favorite spots to paddle. At the far northern end of Folsom Lake State Recreational Area, Rattlesnake Bar is a little out of the way.  It is off the highway and down a winding road to the lake access. Because of the current drought, getting on the water is inconvenient.  Last time I was there, the boat ramp gate was locked, leading to a long portage to the water.
 Nevertheless, once on the water those troubles drifted away. The water was calm, flat and suited for touring. It's spellbinding to explore the towering rock formations and coves of the lakeshore.  At  Mormon Ravine, if conditions are right, the water is boiling. Discharges from the nearby pump house have turned the mild stream into a rocky watercourse just right for surfing.
  The guys from Bayside Adventure Sports and I were lucky one evening to catch a flow release into the ravine. We tested our skills enjoying that thrill of whitewater before heading back home on the peaceful lake.

Where the River Ends...Rattlesnake Bar.

Where the river ends...The North Fork of the American River flowing into Folsom Lake

 All my paddling books were written about 15 years ago. Each offers maps and tips on where to go and how to get there.  They have suggestions on the obstacles one might encounter and what sights to look for a long the way. It is very helpful knowledge for both the beginner and the veteran paddler.
 However, Folsom Lake is now at an all-time low. Where my GPS says there should be water,  looks more like the surface of Mars. The waterway which has definitely shrunk offers now new opportunities to explore areas that were once underwater. Look for massive and remarkable rock formations resembling fortresses and castles along the shoreline and giant boulders rising up out the water from nowhere.
 Rattlesnake Bar is the furthest north boat access point on the north arm of the lake at Folsom Lake State Recreation Area. The landscape there is very rugged. The guidebooks say watch for rattlesnakes, hence the name, but look out for other wildlife as well.
 At the time, the lake level had dropped far below the cement of the boat ramp. Along with that, the gate leading to the ramp was locked. Portaging the kayak down the hill was in order to get on the water.  Once on it, I found the water very quiet while paddling up past Morman Ravine.  Here is where the water clarity improved as the icy North Forks of the American River water meets the warmer lake water.  At this place,  it was easy for me to see into the depths of the lake below. In places, I could see clearly twenty to thirty feet into the bluish green water.
 A giant gravel bar soon appears. It is the reminder of the power water. A flood destroyed a cofferdam some years ago sending a wall of water and dam material all downstream. The water at this point became shallow and the current started to tug at my kayak.  I had to stop and turn around just before hitting some Class I rapids. This is where the river ends.
 I will have to wait until the lake is higher to conclude this journey.