2022 IN REVIEW: PICTURES OF THE YEAR

Gaily bedlight, A gallant knight, in sunshine and in shadows had journeyed long, singing a song, in search of Eldorado --- Edgar Allan Poe

The picturesque Coloma river valley is stunning with beauty and steep in history. It was there, not far from where I slid my kayak in the churning flow of the South Fork of the American River, it all happened.

The quirky and rather odd John Marshall had a scheme about getting a sawmill going on the banks of the river for the much-needed lumber for the influx of new settlers coming to California. Financially funded by John Sutter, Marshall was constructing the mill in the Coloma Valley. By January 1848, workers had erected a building, installed the machinery and a water wheel, and dug a ditch to divert water from the river. Inspecting the work, Marshall peered down into the trail trace through a foot of water. If there would have been a camera there to record it, this is what we would have done seen.

"My eye caught a glimpse of something shining in the bottom of the ditch," Marshall gave a historical account, "I reached my hand down and picked it up; it made my heart thump, for I was certain it was gold."

 

Lake Jenkinson

And as the story goes, after he found those flakes precious metal of metal, it ushered in a wave of steely-eyed prospectors. Along with them came adventurous storytelling photographers ready to capture the historic frenzy around them. The Gold Rush was the first event in the country to be documented extensively through the then-new medium of photography.

Using daguerreotypes, an early photographic process employing an iodine-sensitized silvered plate and mercury vapor. Photographers would polish a sheet of silver-plated copper to a mirror finish, treat it with fumes that made its surface light-sensitive, and expose it in a camera for as long as it was judged to be necessary. It could be as little as a few seconds for brightly sunlit subjects or much longer for regarding the light; removed its sensitivity to light by liquid chemical treatment; rinsed and dried, and then sealed the easily marred result behind glass in a protective enclosure.

The photographers would travel about in wagons/studios, taking portraits of the miners young and old, holding the tools of their trade, a shovel, a pick, a pan. Some would even show off their precious nuggets or flakes of gold. They would show the men working as they dug away at the earth, searching for Mother Lode.

Lake Jenkinson & Sly Park Paddle Rentals

Their images were also the first to detail the environmental damage inflicted on the landscape.
Pictures show men digging away with shovels and building scaffolds in large mining operations that upheave the earth and ripped away hillsides.
The first prospectors worked their claims manually with pans and picks. But, as more arrived, the miners took to diverting entire rivers and using high-pressure jets of water to dislodge rock material or move sediment to speed up their excavations. This caused a devastating effect on the riparian natural countryside. Long after the hype for gold subsided, much of the environmental damage of this form of mining still lasts to this day.  

  

Lake Clementine & Robber's Roost

Their haunting images captured historic people and places I now call home. As I document my paddling adventures, it's a bit easier with our cell phone technology. I only hope that can create the same excitement of the Gold Rush. So as 2022 draws to a close, let's look back at some of my favorite images from this past year. 

Great American Triathlon training with Current Adventures 

  

Bayside Adventure Sports at Loon Lake

John Taylor at Sly Park 

The annual Glow Paddle on Lake Natoma

       

Salmon on the Lower American River

Kayaking with Current Adventures on Lake Natoma

The Sacramento River with Bayside Adventure Sports

Debbie Carlson at Yosemite 

Sly Park Paddle Rentals 

   

Our new home in Placerville, California

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KAYAK SUMMER 2021

Above the mountains which lay beyond the further shore, the sky was murky with the smoke of unseen forest fires, and through this the afternoon sun broke feebly, throwing a vague radiance to earth, and unreal shadows. To the sky-line of the four quarters--spruce-shrouded islands, dark water, and ice-scarred rocky ridges--stretched the immaculate wilderness. --- Jack London

When summer arrived as Jack London wrote in the Call of The Wild, it's time for us to pack our backs, "Rafted across blue mountain lakes, and descended or ascended unknown rivers in slender boats whip-sawed from the standing forest....through the uncharted vastness."
In Call of the Wild, London tells the beloved classic tale of Buck's (a mix of St. Bernard and Scotch collie) transition from a kidnapped pampered pup to Klondike sled dog to his evolution to embrace the deeper parts of his wilder side. 

Lake Jenkinson

"Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest,” wrote London of the Buck's instinctual call of the wilderness.
For those of us with a wanderlust soul, London's words stir our senses of adventure. For some, we have that need to answer that call of the wild. When summertime, comes it is our time to pack our packs, load our boats, and journey into the world around us. However, London's darker views can convolute our ideals of the inspiring novelist writing about dogs and the Alaskan frontier. In his time, London was an unashamed racist and a prominent advocate of socialism, casting a problematic shadow over his love of the wilderness and making him a bit more a complicated storyteller.

Much like London, summertime 2021 brought plenty of contradictions and complications to the great outdoors. Even as summer ends this year, we still don't have a handle on the Covid-19 pandemic. As the Delta variant increases, there is still a debate on getting the vaccine and wearing masks. Still the due to the upheaval from COVID-19, Americans across the country took to the outdoors. The 2021 Outdoor Participation Trends Report, commissioned by the Outdoor Foundation, reveals that in 2020, 53 percent of Americans ages six and over participated in outdoor recreation at least once, the highest participation rate on record. Some 7.1 million more Americans participated in outdoor recreation in 2020 than in the year prior. 

Lake Jenkinson

And it's secret that a lot of those folks headed to the water, and paddle sports sales exploded.
And as the paddling industry boom and people flocked to the water, there is still a huge lack of diversity. According to the same report, nearly 75 percent of outdoor participants were white. Participation rates declined 7 percent annually among Asian Americans for the past three years; stagnated for the last three years among Blacks and grew among Hispanics but remained well below whites.
Fortunately, the paddling community is recognizing people of color love the outdoors. Advocates are working to tear down barriers and diversifying the sport for all participants. California-based groups like Outdoor Afro and Vamos Afuera (Let’s Go Outside) have organized frequent outings to paddleboard, kayak, and explore magical places like Yosemite.

Climate change is another issue facing California. Summers get hotter, drier, and smokier due to another extended fire season. This summer, the Caldor Fire closed us down early at Sly Park as the blazed raged just to the south of the park and lake.
“These fires are blinking code red for our nation. They’re gaining frequency and ferocity, and we know what we’re supposed to do. Scientists have been warning us for years [that] extreme weather is going to get more extreme. We’re living it in real-time now,” President Joe Biden said after taking an aerial tour of land burned by the Caldor Fire last week. 

Sly Park Paddle Rentals on Lake Jenkinson

Despite the fire, my season at the boathouse was shortened anyway. Lake Jenkinson fell to record levels along with many other California reservoirs during this season of drought. All through the summer, the lake continued to shrink in size and depth. Each week I would return and find less and less water in the lake.

Regardless of all those arduous issues, my summer season flashed by again a golden haze. Once again, those months came and went so quickly.  Now in September, I'm looking back on a hectic summer of cross-country trips, boathouse days, paddling nights, and a very adventuresome trip down the South Fork of the America River. I've enjoyed hearing the sweet cadences of water ripples over rocks, seeing the vividly mirrored placid lake, and feeling the cool water on a moonlight swims while the stars danced over the trees. 

Moon over Wyoming 

But as London wrote in The Faith of Men, a collection of adventure tales set in the Yukon Territory, "Then came the autumn, post-haste before the down rush of winter. The air grew thin and sharp, the days thin and short. The river ran sluggishly, and skin ice formed in the quiet eddies. All migratory life departed south, and silence fell upon the land."

It's time now to transition into the colder months of the season while still, remembering fall which is still a great time to get outside. The appearance of autumn does not call for the disappearance of kayaks or standup paddleboards. Fall and wintertime waters offer a quieter and solitary experience. Who doesn't appreciate fewer bugs, crowds, and empty parking spots at the access? To provide a transition from swimsuits to wetsuits, I picked favorite images created over the past few months to help recall the past season to help you cruise through to until next summer. 

Bayside Adventure Sports on Lake Jenkinson

Canoeing on Lake Jenkinson

The South Fork of the American River. Photo by Hot Shot Imaging

Smoke over Lake Jenkinson

Power Paddle

Lake Natoma

Lake Jenkinson

Sailing on Elliot Bay in Seattle

Lake Natoma 

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WHITEWATER RAFTING THE GORGE OF THE SOUTH FORK OF THE AMERICAN RIVER

Between the rock and the hard place, the river narrows and finds it way. --- Peter Heller

As a kayaker, I've never really thought much about whitewater rafting. It was something river tourists did. But, not guys who regularly kayak. Kayaks are sleek, nimble, and fast. A good paddler can control their movements on the water and seek out eddies to catch and waves to surf, while those rafts are big, bulky, and cumbersome. It's been my experience while on the Lower American River that those rafts are slow and a little boring as they aimlessly drift in the current. Holding a beer can instead of a paddle, those folks watch me paddle by having all the fun.

So when Sydney Strange invited my wife Debbie and me for a trip down the South Fork of the American River, I didn't know what to expect. And nor did I know I would have the time of my life.
The South Fork of the American River is one of the most popular destinations for whitewater kayaking and rafting in all of California. The site which spawned the Gold Rush now attracts thrill-seekers of every age looking for that rush of adrenaline and excitement. The first 5 miles from the Chili Bar access is brimming full of Class III rapids with intimidating names like Meat-grinder and Trouble Maker. The so-called easy section runs from the Marshall Gold Discovery Historical State Park access to the Greenwood Creek through the valley consisting of several Class II rapids, including a popular surf spot named Barking Dog.

Raft guide Sydney Strange

It's a warm-up for "The Gorge." Descending at 33-feet per mile toward Folsom Lake for 10 miles, the river moves and moves fast, featuring the river's most challenging series of Class III rapids with even more fearsome and heart-pumping handles like Satan's Cesspool, Scissors, and its last big drop called Hospital Bar. I had never paddled it before, but I certainly had heard the stories of all the fabled rapids.
After shuttling our vehicles in place, Debbie and I met Sydney, her mom, and another friend at the Whitewater Excitement, where she's a river guide. Young, slender, and athletic, Sydney is a recent high school grad in her rookie season on the river. Sydney, however, had the confidence of a veteran. As our boat captain for the day, she would be in charge. In giving us a few instructions just after hitting the river. She told those of us in the front of the raft to paddle in sync, which proved to be a little tricky at first. When she would call for us to forward paddle, we would lean forward and forward paddle. When she called for us to back paddle, we would lean forward with our paddles in hand and pull our blades backward. When she commanded the two on the right to back paddle, while the on the two left to forward paddle, we would coordinate our strokes in kind. And most important, when she ordered us to paddle forward hard, we would dig our paddles into the stream and paddle as hard as we could until she called for us to stop.

Now in my whitewater kayak, I would've been dodging the rocks and boulders of Highway Rapids, but the big raft flew over them and danced over the waves of Swimmer Rapids with little effort. From here on would be an uncharted country for me. My whitewater skills are not quite up "The Gorge" just yet. I had never had gone past this Greenwood access till that day. 

Debbie Carlson

A popular destination for whitewater rafting, we followed, as well as led, a parade of rafts full of kids, chaperones, parents, and their river guides down the narrowing stream past landmark rocks along the river that resembles an alligator and a gorilla. At Gorilla Rock, some of the raft guides pulled aside to let brave daredevils leap off the rock into the deep pool before proceeding on.
My wife Debbie had been smiling and laughing the whole way like a kid on a roller coaster. While she had paddled countless times with me, this was her first whitewater experience.
"It's so beautiful here on the river. I can't believe I've lived here this long and have never done this," Debbie told us, "We'll have to do this every year from now on."

Seeing the large tree on top of the mountain called the Lollipop tree marks the beginning of the storied "Gorge." It's here where the river drops, the channel narrows, and the canyon walls get steep, creating large standing waves. If you are not holding on to your hat, you'll most likely lose it at Lost Hat Rapids, a series of drops and massive waves, leading up to Satan's Cesspool.
Guiding and steering from the back of the raft, Sydney had already lead us through some incredibly fun and splashing waves with assurance and calm. Even when the raft got pin-up against some rocks, she would coolly pry us off the boulder with her paddle or order us all to the other side of the raft to lift the weight off the boat off the boulder, letting us free. She was doing all the work, and we were having all the fun.
"Here comes Satan's," Sydney called out over the rushing foam, "This is where all the photographers hang out. Paddle hard on my command!"

Photo by Hotshot Imaging

 Satan's Cesspool at Class III is was one of the most feared rapids on the South Fork. Our blue raft followed the current that eased to the left, then swiftly turned to the right. Paddling hard from my position up in front, I could only glance up at my photo op before crashing down into a frothy hole that bent out our boat like a blueberry fruit rollup. If it hadn't for the foot loop at the bottom of the boat, I would have sailed overboard into the deluge. Meanwhile, Debbie, who was behind me, crashed forward into me like we were dominoes.
We were suddenly caught in the maelstrom, between the rock and the thundering river. The raft wouldn't budge off the rocks. In the rush of the water, we somehow got turned around on this thrill ride. I look up for an instant and see the photographers documenting our mishap like we were the flaming Hindenburg.

From then, my memory is blurry, all I can remember is our paddling crew laughing very loudly, as we tried to push our boat off the rocks. Sydney somehow got us off the rocks and back into the flow of the river. We only had a little time to catch our breath. More we continue to approach even more rapids.
"The Gorge" constricts even more as the colossal diagonal standing waves bounced us and the inflatable boat down the stream like a dribbling a basketball on a fast break. At the peak of each wave, we'd hold our breath only to toboggan down its slope with enough momentum to climb the next oncoming wave. Crashing into each wave, we were showered, with a churning hurricane of water with each drop.
"There's one more big one." Sydney told us, "Get ready."
"The Gorge's" last huge drop is called Hospital Bar Rapids, not because its huge series of waves that has been know to flip boats and wipe out paddlers, but because it was named a medical outpost set up here during the Gold Rush.
Our raft fell down its chute that twisted left and the right till another watery splashdown. We rode those bucking waves like a rodeo bronco getting a perfect score. We cheered with a paddle high-five. Lifting our paddles into the air above our heads, clicking them together in celebration.

Our Whitewater Rafting Crew

 In this year of low water, there were a few more rapids to run before we caught sight of the Salmon Falls Bridge and our takeout. Usually, they are underwater in Folsom Reservoir, so we enjoyed a little bonus round of whitewater to send us off smiling.
Thanks to our guide Sydney, My first trip down the Gorge was memorable. I look forward to many more trips down it in the future. And maybe even one day in my whitewater kayak.

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OVER THE BOW: THE OLD SALMON FALLS BRIDGE & SOUTH FORK OF THE AMERICAN RIVER

Adventures are never fun while you're having them --- C. S. Lewis

I called it, The In Search of the Old Salmon Falls Bridge Paddle for a Bayside Adventure Sports paddling event last weekend. You see, when the Folsom Reservoir. is low, one can easily find the old bridge that dates back to the Gold Rush days of California.
Just the year before, I put in just off the Salmon Falls Road at the Skunk Hollow and paddled to and back with ease, to the only remnant left behind from the washed away gold mining town of Salmon Falls. Built-in 1925, the bridge is now dubbed Hidden Bridge because it's usually covered over by the lake due to the construction of Folsom Dam in the 1950s.

Surely it would be the same type of adventure for the active Sacramento faith-based outdoor group that I help lead. After all, a storm system swept through the Sierra Nevada earlier in the week dropping several feet of snow throughout the region, according to the National Weather Service. The Lake Tahoe area recorded as much as 7 feet of snow in parts. Indeed some of that extra rain had to find a way to bolster up the lake after an extremely dry fall.
“The state has experienced a series of storms over the last couple of weeks that brought a significant amount of rain and snow,” said Sean de Guzman, the Department of Water Resources, at a news conference. “However these storms were not nearly enough to make up the deficit we’ve accumulated over the last few months.”

If I only would have known. However, I misjudged the water levels totally. As William Van Der Ven wrote in his "Up the Lake with A Paddle' series, the reservoir's water level determines the extent of paddling trips on the lake.
"The low water level brings back the flow in the old river channel, " Van Der Ven writes, "This, in turn, creates a current that becomes extremely difficult to negotiate above old Salmon Falls Bridge. At extreme low water levels, the old river channel is exposed even below the old bridge, thus creating the same difficulty with the strong current."

The South Fork of the American River tumbles over a rocky slope just below the new Salmon Falls Bridge. It is the usual take out spot for rafters and kayakers after running the river's popular whitewater section. Usually bustling with buses, rafts, and kayaks on any hot summer, but on this quiet weekend morning in February, we had the place to ourselves.
It was a long walk down the grade to the water. My crew used kayak carts to portage their boats to the water. Looking downstream, I was hopeful the river would converge with the lake to make it an easy paddle upstream. But it was not to be.

The stream pushed us along quickly. We bounced over rocks and ran down the rivers flumes. Before long, we caught sight of the old Salmon Falls Bridge looming ahead. Built and rebuilt three times, the bridge is one of only a handful of remains of the old town named after a nearby waterfall, now covered by the lake. The seemly out of place monolith spanned over the river channel as it drew a crowd of weekend explorers and hikers to traverse it once again.

We beached our boats just underneath the old bridge realizing that we were at the end of the paddling portion of the trip and would have to hike out. That's is kayaking someday. We hiked back to our cars and trucks, leaving our boats to portage out for there. On our return, we portaged our boats back up the hill at the access of the Old Salmon Falls Bridge Day Use Area.

2020 IN REVIEW: PICTURES OF THE YEAR

 

I turned 60-years old this year. But in the year of Covid-19, the celebration ended abruptly. Like everyone, a lot of my plans were either canceled or put on hold. After orders to shelter in place spread across the country last spring, upending some of our favorite outdoor activities, we all soon learn to simply adapt. We made Zoom calls, hosted online events, and found ourselves saying, maybe next year when, things get back to normal, a lot.

“COVID-19 is not just a medical challenge," surmised writer Amit Ray, "But a spiritual challenge too. To defeat covid humanity need to follow the path of self-purification, compassion, nonviolence, God, and Nature.”

With the ongoing pandemic, this past year was a difficult one for us all. However, throw in a contentious election, the wave of shocking police brutality and continuing problems with race relations, along with global warming that caused havoc with West coast wildfires and hurricanes in the Southeastern part of the United States, 2020 will surely be remembered well into history. 

Lake Natoma

 Ironically the pandemic had a positive effect on the outdoors. Embracing the quarantine lifestyle and social distancing, many of us headed into our own backyards to explore again.
While kayaking, canoeing, and paddleboarding are considered to be a form of exercise, the practice of social distancing could easily be accomplished once on the water. The only problem that occurred was limited or challenging access to public waterways. Venues were locked down in the early part of the spring due to overcrowding.

By mid-summer, while our classes with Current Adventures Kayaking School & Trips had taken a hit, the boat rentals at Sly Park Paddle Rentals were packed every weekend as folks flocked to Lake Jenkinson to escape quarantining inside. Doing outdoor activities close to home amid the pandemic was a way for people to exercise their bodies, minds, and spirit. More than once, I told our customers once at the lake to enjoy the moments on the water. Paddle towards the sound of the waterfall and forget about the rest.

Like always, the highlight of the summer was my annual no-frills expedition to Loon Lake with Bayside Adventure Sports, a Christian-based outreach group. The lake trip was a perfect mix of kayaking, camping, and great friends. Not to mention, the lake views, sunsets, and star gazing were amazing.

By Autumn, Covid-19 restrictions were relaxed, but the fire season had once again erupted in California. Ugly clouds of smoke blotted out the sun and sent us back indoors due to air quality. More trips were canceled as campgrounds were shutdown.
It seems 2020, for will for me, will be thought of more for what I didn't do. Rather, than what I did. However, I did get to run South Fork of the American and a few times and had my first down a section on of Sacramento River.

The Lower American River

It was a difficult year, as we all learn to adjust to living under the guise of the pandemic. We have mastered the art of socially distancing, we wear our masks and smile with our eyes and wave to each other instead of offering a handshake or a hug. Boy, I miss the hugs. But even so, I have witnessed inspiration and perseverance from my family, friends, co-workers, and even strangers, as they haven't given up during these Covid times. Yes, Yes, 2020 will be remembered as a very weird year when the world came to a sudden halt. But for we overcame and just kept paddling on.

So as 2020 draws to a close, I look back at some of my favorite images from this past year. 

Lake Jenkinson

North Fork of the American River

Donner Lake

Lake Jenkinson

South Fork of the American River

Sly Park Paddle Rentals on Lake Jenkinson

Loon Lake

Lake Clementine

The Lower American River with Bayside Adventure Sports

Folsom Lake

Lake Jenkinson

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KAYAK SUMMER 2020

Lake Clementine

Making storytelling photos has always been my mantra. Throughout my journalistic career to now, as I document my kayaking paddling days, on Instagram, and for my post in Outside Adventure to the Max, I want to tell you a story. Each day, I hope to capture in a photograph what the day was like and what did. Was it sunny and bright or a bit gloomy? Was I with or leading a group, or was I on a solo trek across the water?

Sunset Paddle on Lake Natoma

I love to shoot a lot of my photos in the so-called Golden Hour. I have a propensity to light and shadows and the mood it presents. I find it irresistible to let those magical moments pass without trying to catch just a part of it. I can not lie. It makes for beautiful pictures, especially when on the water. Those serene moments make my kayak tripping a bit romantic and picturesque.
Yet the storyteller in me also wants to share my so non-romantic things about my paddling days. The grittiness of the heavy kayak and steep portage to the sluggishness of sluffing boats at the end of the day at the boathouse, to the unplanned swims, Not all my paddling days are a memory of cool Kodak moments.

Summer 2020 was far from picture perfect and a bit more unalluring and unappealing than any photos can suggest. By most accounts, it was an unfocused and somewhat shaky ordeal that will be remembered more for what we didn't do rather than what we actually did.

Sly Park Paddle Rentals

For all of us, Summer 2020 certainly did not start all that well. The as the novel coronavirus know as the COVID-19 pandemic abruptly canceled and delay it from the start.
"Now we have something that turned out to be my worst nightmare," the director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, Dr. Anthony Fauci, told CNN in June, "In the period of four months, it has devastated the world."

At the start of the summer season, self-quarantining recommendations and restrictions became the norm. Movie theaters, indoor restaurants, and churches were closed. Events and festivals were canceled, and stacks of guidelines were imposed, calling for "social distancing" by staying at least six-feet part from one another.
Across the country, popular national, state, and local parks and beaches were either closed or were limiting access as health officials raised health concerns about large, possibly maskless, groups of visitors arriving and potentially skirting social distancing guidelines.
But as we all know, going outside is good for us, especially in a pandemic. Being in nature and the fresh air can help us relax and feel less stressed, which is what we needed most both then and even now. 

South Fork of American River

So I took advantage of my free time to head to the Lower American River and even run the South Fork of the River with a couple of guys during the early days of the summer shutdown.

As the stay-in-place restrictions were relaxed, outdoor places like state parks suddenly become important in a new way. They were safe places, but only if people recreated reasonably. Masks for many became the fashion as we looked in either bandits or doctors when they arrived a the boat launch. At Sly Park Paddle Rentals, where I worked after the delayed start, I would give all the equipment a sanitizing bath in E-san 64 after each rental. As the pandemic lingered into the middle of summer, people continued to flock to places like Lake Jenkinson, giving me a busy and brisk business as folks tried to escape the routine of the pandemic by getting on the water. 

Loon Lake

But just the same, it was not all work and no play. The after-hours canoeing and kayaking sessions in the lake helped give me a sense of normalcy. An annual trip down the Lower American River and no-frills expedition to Loon Lake with Bayside Adventure Sports, a Christian based outreach group, gave me a chance to lead a great group of paddlers. Okay, okay! That week on the was close to picture-perfect as could be, for me and maybe all them. It was the highlight of my summer.

But with every high, there comes a low. And this seemly apocalyptic summer dished out a slew of record-breaking temperatures, devastating wildfires, and ghostly orange and Martian-red skies from the shadow of smoke blowing eastward during the ladder part of the summer. A mid-September camping trip to Sierra Mountains Silver Lake was called-off due to the threat of fire danger, and my days on Lake Jenkinson were plagued with smoke and haze. It led me to get some dramatic photos, but also a realization that with climate change being unchecked this could be a prelude of things annually. 

Lake Jenkinson

It's official. No matter how I regard it, this lost summer is over, and fall has begun. Time to start planning for next year. While for some, this ominous year of 2020 can not get over quickly enough as we all deal with the COVID-19 pandemic, racial unrest, and looming contentious election. As we start the Autumn season, we search for that silver lining.

“Our main job as artists is to make the art that only we can make, right now in the times in which we are living,” wrote California College of Arts Dean of Fine Arts Allison Smith to her students this past year. “The art you are about to make will be a source of survival, and it will change us all for the better,” she concluded. 

So in these crazy times, I look back on my summer 2020. I certainly will cherish all my photo moments, both good and bad, all the friendly faces, and all the memories of my time on the water. To help me and maybe even you cruise through to till next summer, I picked out some of my favorite images I created over the past few months to help recall the past season like no other.

Here is a look at some of my favorite images from this past summer.

Loon Lake with Bayside Adventure Sports

Lake Jenkinson

 

Sly Park Paddle Rentals

Donner Lake

Lake Jenkinson

Lake Valley Reservoir

North Fork of the American River

 

The American River Parkway

Lake Jenkinson

Lake Jenkinson

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