SOUTH SILVER THE FIRST DESCENT

Elements of chance and danger are wonderful and frightening to experience and, though I bemoan the recklessness of youth, I wonder what the world would be like without it. I know this is wrong, but I am for the spirit that makes young men do the things they do. I am for the glory that they know. ---Sigurd Olson

When Northern California extreme kayakers talk about the South Silver there eyes light up. It's a classic 2-mile run over smooth granite with steep drops, teacup pools, and a water slide like ride down a giant flume that boaters like to sprint it over and over again. Technically challenging at Class V, this remote creek section went unnoticed until the late 1990s. Back then, as whitewater kayaking was on the rise, paddling river cowboys roamed the California rivers and creeks with only one desire: to paddle their plastic kayaks down their torrents and rapids and grab the mythical glory of being the first one to do it. For a group of paddling pioneers, the South Fork of Silver Creek would be that prize. 

Photos courtesy of Duncan Mine

 "You know doing a first descent is basically the crème de la crème for a kayaker," Mikey Juarez, says in South Silver the First Descent, the new film from Duncan Mine, a Northern California Production Company, "To do something of the stature that, that we look back now and look at this creek, South Silver, it being one the most popular rivers in the state of California and bringing people from all over the world to run, you know we're very for fortunate."

The film was inspired after Duncan Mine's Scott Blankenfeld heard about the creek's first descent from local paddler Andrew Boucher. For the past couple of years, Duncan Mine has been showcasing athletes doing their thing on their home turf. 

Scott Blankenfeld

"This now-classic whitewater run was one of the last to be pioneered in California, and it signifies an end to an era of exploration of California whitewater," said Blankenfeld, "I instantly thought it would make a great short documentary film."

All the paddlers featured in the film were thrilled to recall their shared unique story in California whitewater history and the tale of their first descent down the South Silver.
"They opened their doors," said Blankenfeld, "Gave us their time, shared footage, and trusted us to do a good job telling their story." 

Produced on a limited budget, the film interweaves old footage of the then younger kayakers and their old-school boats with contemporary shots with today's newer creek boats and helmet camera video of kayaking. 

"We acquired two sets of archival footage for this project," said Blankenfeld, "Jared Noceti lent us his Hi-8 camera and tapes for us to digitize, log, and use. This footage was used for the "kayaking in the 90's" opening montage, and more importantly, for the first running of the teacups segments."
With the original Hi-8 footage from the first full descent was lost over time, the production crew had to rely on an edited VHS video from 2001.
"Initially, we thought the tape was unusable as the play-heads on the VCR were dirty," said Blankenfeld, "Months later in the editing process, My co-director, Robby Hogg convinced me to take a second look on a different player and viola, the static was almost gone. This footage was then digitized and added really at the last minute. I'm so happy we did this because the film would not be the same without it."

Shot beautifully against the gorgeous backdrop of the high Sierra Nevada Mountains and edited with outstanding fluid pacing by Nick Warren, the film is more than just a kayaking highlight reel. But, rather an adventure story that captures the spirit of California's not-so-old whitewater history when as Jared Noceti tells us in the opening scenes, there was no internet or social media and paddlers could only rely on each other to tell their story.
"You got your input from not off Y-tube," said Noceti, "You input from your buddy. From his story. What he told about his experiences. And if you could figure it out on your own, you'll probably have that same experience."

An accomplished paddler himself, Blankenfeld hopes this film is only the beginning of sharing similar boaters narratives and will lead the video company to even larger projects in telling even more stories about California whitewater history.
"We want this film to be seen by as many people as possible," said Blankenfeld, "This was an opportunity to spend time with old friends and share a unique story of California whitewater."

 

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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PADDLE BACK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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OVER THE BOW: THE SEINE RIVER

 

“The Seine. I have painted it all my life, at all hours of the day, at all times of the year, from Paris to the sea…Argenteuil, Poissy, Vétheuil, Giverny, Rouen, Le Havre.” ― Claude Monet

It was in my morning rush of waking up early, downing a cup of coffee, and driving through traffic when I let National Public Radio's Eleanor Beardsley take on a quick return trip to France's Seine River via my truck's radio.
The story was how the beloved river was helping, many people get along through the Covid-19 pandemic by offering a bit of serenity even in the densely populated city of Paris.
"It's spacious and serene," Eva Alonzo, told Beardsley during the report, "The water brings a calmness," she says. "Confinement is about walls and concrete. But here we feel closer to nature."

Listening to her report, my trip to Paris in April of 2017 with my wife Debbie flashed before my eyes. It was in the pre-Covid-19 days when Parisians were able to mill along the river banks alongside its historic bridges, houseboats, tourist boats, and iconic city views including the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame Cathedral. We walked along the river and through the history of Paris with almost every step. In every aspect from its medieval period, through the days of the revolution, World War II occupation, and now the modern world, the river has been intertwined with the city. And now in the days of the pandemic and lockdowns, people are still finding healing with its gentle flow.

 Author of The Seine: The River That Made Paris, Elaine Sciolino, said in the same report, that the Seine takes its name and identity from the ancient Gallic healing goddess Sequana, who had a temple at the Seine's source two centuries before Christ.
"And it was so special that pilgrims came from as far as the Mediterranean and what's now the English Channel to be cured," Sciolino told Beardsley, "And in this moment where we're dealing with death and sickness with COVID, we need a healing goddess more than ever."

There is healing in the water, somebody once told me. As I walked along the Seine back then, I could feel its spirit bubbling through me. But, I feel that with all rivers. Spending time along their banks always reduces my anxiety, worry, and stress.
"For me, rivers are medicine," wrote American Rivers, Amy Souers Kober,| "I know when I need a break, when I need to get out for a float, swim, paddle, or streamside hike. If walking in nature changes our brains, then spending time on rivers must deliver an even bigger bang for the buck."

As continued my before work daydream, I could only think of one thing better to do than meander along the Seine River in Paris. Of course, that would be paddling it.

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

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2021 NEW YEAR, SAME MESSAGE

″‘At last all such things must end,’ he said, ‘but I would have you wait a little while longer: for the end of the deeds that you have shared in has not yet come. A day draws near that I have looked for in all the years of my manhood, and when it comes I would have my friends beside me.‘”---J.R.R Tolkien,

It was early last August when I met Dan Crandall in Placerville, California. We usually had met there on Sundays, so I could hand off the receipts, waivers, and cash from my weekend at Sly Park Paddle Rentals on Lake Jenkinson. Like always, I was pretty beat up after a pretty good weekend up at the dock. The Covid-19 pandemic had halted the early part of our summer on the lake but since many of the restrictions had been lifted by then, the business of renting canoes, paddleboards, and kayaks had been booming. It was the same everywhere. To escape the constraints of the global coronavirus pandemic, people had flocked to the lakes, rivers, woods, parks, trails, campgrounds, and wilderness areas.

Usually, Dan was upbeat and boundless energy. River canyons still echo the booming calls he made while leading kayaking classes and race training. Popular and like-able Dan is a gifted paddler, a true friend, and a great boss.
But like us all the past year, like us all, made him a bit tired. I could see it in his eyes. While some of the activities of Current Adventures Kayaking School & Trips and its retail partner the River Store were doing as well, other parts had been upended by the pandemic.
I asked him if we had any upcoming touring session sessions coming up I could help with on. He said no that much of the summer classes had been curtailed. Then he said something that has stuck with me since.
"You know it's not going to go away at the end of the year." he forewarned, "People expect it to just go away then. But, it won't. It will go on into the next year."

Of course, Dan was right. As we start in 2021, the message is still the same as before. Be safe. Especially now, when hospitals are already under pressure and the death toll across the country continues to mount. California Gov. Gavin Newsom warned residents to brace for the impact of surge upon surge from recent holiday travel.

Snow Bound
Despite many new restrictions, outdoor recreation remains open. The ski slopes are operating, and many resorts are employing social distancing to limit capacity and reduce the crowds.
“Many ski resorts have changed practices to provide distance when waiting in lines or having people from the same group ride together on lifts,” Jan K. Carney, professor of medicine and associate dean for public health and health policy at Robert Larner College of Medicine at the University of Vermont in Burlington told USA Today.
“Bring your own lunch," Carney added, "And if you want a new and more socially distant activity, try cross-country skiing – outdoors, plenty of space, and great exercise,” Carney adds.

Cross Country Skis and Snowshoes Getting Hard To Find
While cross-country skiing and snowshoeing would ensure plenty of exercise with plenty of space to visit the snow. You just better have them already tucked away in your garage if you want to go. Retailers are having had trouble keeping both the items in stock, calling them the new toilet paper.
A similar buying frenzy happened last year with bicycles, kayaks, and paddleboards when people realized that the only way they'd get outside safely for both pleasure and transportation was if they owned their own gear.
“When the whole — no one can congregate indoors — [lockdown] started people found the outdoors again [and] at that point our kayak sales went crazy,” Lightning Kayak CEO Stuart Lee told the Minneapolis Star -Tribune

Outdoors Diversity
While many Americans have decided that outdoor activities, including everything from kayaking to skiing and snowshoeing, are essential to getting through the coronavirus pandemic. However, the Black Lives Matter Movement has shed a light on how deeply rooted racism is in our society. Statistics collected from the U.S. Forest Service, National Park Service, and Fish and Wildlife Service show that although people of color make up nearly 40 percent of the total U.S. population, close to 70 percent of people who visit national forests, national wildlife refuges, and national parks are white, while Black people remain the most dramatically underrepresented group in these spaces.
In 2021, we must cultivate common ground among diverse communities and making outdoor recreation welcoming and accessible to all. This past year the Just Add Water Project took steps on a mission to break down barriers to the outdoors and creating the culture we want to see in the future.

A New National Park
Included with pandemic-related aid in the second federal stimulus relief package. The New River Gorge in southern West Virginia will go from being a National River to a National Park and Preserve, making it the country’s 63rd national park and 20th preserve.
The area was designated a national river in 1978. The New River Gorge National Park and Preserver Designation Act is a part of the Fiscal Year 2021 Omnibus Appropriations Bill and pandemic relief package.

Kayak, Canoe & You
An unforeseen side effect of the coronavirus pandemic and spread of COVID-19 was an explosion in participants in paddling sports and outdoor fun all around the country and even the world. Nowhere is this more true than in the rise of social media paddling. This past year on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, on any given day I've seen stories and visual media where my paddling brothers and sisters, some famous, others perhaps less so, that took me to their favorite waterways. In 2021, I will look again to them to be educated, thrilled, and mostly inspired. You can follow us at Outside Adventure to Max to hopefully do the same.

Paddle Day #152
I paddled to a new personal record of 152 paddling days in the calendar year. I started on California's Lake Natoma with Bayside Adventure Sports and finished the year with them as well on Lake Natoma.
Without a doubt we're looking forward to leaving 2020 behind while eagerly anticipating an exciting new future in 2021. As Alfred, Lord Tennyson said,“Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering ‘It will be happier.’”

Happy New Year 

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CHRISTMAS STARS

“Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home!” ---Charles Dickens

It's officially winter now. We observed the winter solstice that happened earlier this week. For the last six months, the days have grown shorter, and the nights have grown even longer for us in the Northern Hemisphere. All of it leading up to the shortest day of the year this past Monday. In terms of daylight hours, last Monday was 5 hours, 24 minutes, shorter than the first day of summer this past June. But now that's all about to reverse. We will be adding a few moments of light added each day from sunrise to sunset.

John Taylor & Bayside Adventure Sports

 "The winter solstice has always been special to me as a barren darkness that gives birth to a verdant future beyond imagination," said American spiritual teacher and author, Gary Zukav, "A time of pain and withdrawal that produces something joyfully inconceivable, like a monarch butterfly masterfully extracting itself from the confines of its cocoon, bursting forth into unexpected glory."

As the calendar year turns and launches into a new year, there is no doubt we are hoping for some "unexpected glory." Especially after this past year of somewhat bleak darkness with this ongoing Covid-19 pandemic. But as everyone knows, it is on the darkest nights when the stars are the brightest. In the year 2020, the stars in my life as bright as ever.

In my kayaking universe, I look forward to every day on the water I can. Dan Crandall and the other superstars on Current Adventures Kayaking School and Trips have been there for guidance and encouragement all along the way. Despite Covid-19, we did have a busy summer of getting people on the water at Sly Park Paddle Rentals to enjoy the shimmer of Lake Jenkinson. We look forward to returning to our normal schedule of classes, tours, and moonlit paddles in 2021.

We had an unofficial of count over 30 paddling events with Bayside Adventure Sports this past year. Pretty good considering, Covid-19 took away a couple of months while quarantining. Of course, none of it would have been possible without our leaders John Taylor and Randy Kizer. Sure, I have some great ideas, but those two made it happen this year.
The highlights of the season were many. They included our annual Lower American River run, our camping kayaking trip to Loon Lake, and our always popular sunset and moonlit paddles on our area's lakes.

My wife, Debbie is and will always be my guiding star and inspiration. With her deep devotion to God and love for everything living great and small, I strive to be like her in mind and spirit. For the two of us, Christmas came early and twice this year. The first time in May with the birth of Maddie. And once again in October, with the birth of KDK. We are both excited to take the journey into being grandparents.

And I would like to thank our faithful readers of Outside Adventure to the Max.  I hope the future is now brighter for you all.

 Merry Christmas

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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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THE LAST JOURNEY HOME

Salmon are incredibly driven to spawn. They will not give up. This gives me hope. --- Kathleen Dean Moore

In the opening scenes of the 1992 film Last of the Mohicans, three hunters are on a frenzied chase through the forest. They are pursuing a bull elk that comes breaking through the trees, just as Hawkeye, played by Daniel Day-Lewis raises his rifle. With true aim, he brings down the creature with a startling crash. The breathless hunters are silent. There no cheers or accolades. Then in mournful sorrow, the Indian father pays tribute to the fallen elk by saying, "We're sorry to kill you, Brother. We do honor to your courage and speed, your strength."
That scene crosses my mind as I was paddling on the Lower American River and encountered the migrating Chinook or King Salmon. They were traveling up upriver from the Pacific Ocean to spawn.

As they had done for untold centuries, these creatures were completing their life cycle by spawning, laying eggs, and dying in their natal water, "Where they themselves had first known the quickening of life."
"It was the climax of existence," wrote naturalist Sigurd Olson after witnessing the eelpout spawn in Northern Minnesota, "The ultimate biological experience toward which everything previous was merely a preparation."  
Obeying their urges that were implanted in their genetic structure long ago, the salmons' entire life had led them to this supreme event. For eons, the salmon had spawning grounds of over 100 miles in the American River and its tributaries. But with Nimbus Dam just upstream, it is the end of the journey for these “wild salmon,” that avoid the fish ladder of the Nimbus Hatchery. Instead, they will lay and seminate eggs in gravel nests in shallows of the river beds.
At Sailor Bar, they find clean, cool, oxygenated, sediment-free fresh water for their eggs to develop. 

 The river was alive as it moves over the rocks with a quiet whisper. From my kayak, I watched the dazzling show of nature. The salmon were swimming against the flow of the current. I could see their single dorsal fins above the waterline. They were contorting their bodies and swishing their tail fins to clean any sediment in their nest area. It was like watching something prehistoric. This ritual to reproduce been has been practiced since the dawn of time.
"I have seen salmon swimming upstream to spawn even with their eyes pecked out, " wrote author and environmentalist Kathleen Dean Moore, " Even as they are dying, as their flesh is falling away from their spines, I have seen salmon fighting to protect their nests. I have seen them push up creeks so small that they rammed themselves across the gravel. I have seen them swim upstream with huge chunks bitten out of their bodies by bears. Salmon are incredibly driven to spawn. They will not give up. This gives me hope."

While spawning time celebrates the sheer primeval laws of procreation. It also marks the end of their life cycle. The salmon aging process has been accelerated as they migrate to the spawning sights like the American River's Sailor Bar. Scientists say it would be like if we as humans, aged forty years in two weeks. Most of them stop eating after they return to freshwater. Their bodies change. The male develops a hooked snout and a humped back. And in using every bit of energy they have for the return trip, they are simply exhausted, and they die.

As paddle back toward the lagoon of Sailor Bar, I came across one noble salmon lying motionless on the shallows more dead than alive. It was in the final moments of its epic life.
Like the hunters in The Last of Mohicans, I felt a certain melancholy as I witness the death of this river brother. I thought about its life of traveling in the distant ocean. How twice it swam twice under the Golden Gate Bridge. How it navigated the ocean dodging whales, seals, sea lions, and fisherman's hooks, and how it found its way back home to spawn.
Seagulls and turkey vultures were pecking and feasting on the numerous dead carcasses littering the riverway. No doubt this one would be soon included with those others. Its journey was now complete, as its body would provide vast amounts of nutrients back to the habitat. But not before I would say a prayer, to honor its courage, speed, and strength.
 

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