ON A MID WINTER PADDLE

                  The time to relax is when you don't have time for it. -- Sydney Harris

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I tell myself over and over again as I start my paddle across the lake. Open up and relax your body. Settle into the seat of the kayak. I have to keep reminding myself as I paddle out of the lagoon at Lake Natoma's Nimbus Flats. At the same, I keep the pressure on the footpegs and the knee braces with each stroke of my paddle. One foot relaxes while the other pushes, and the alternate like climbing up some stairs. And breathe again.

Many paddlers start out tense and stiff as they recognize their instability on the water just a few inches away. As a fellow paddler, Daniel Fox wrote, "Kayaking is my intimate relationship with water. I feel vulnerable and at the water's mercy. Sitting in a boat, only millimeters of carbon and fiberglass keeping me dry and protected, I am connected to the forces at play."

It has been a few weeks since I have even been in my kayak, and I feel a bit nervous getting out on the water again. Maybe even a bit rusty. My Prijon Barracuda, just shy of 17-feet, is a sleek and fast boat. But it always feels a bit tippy on entry. It can have a bit of an ornery nature. So there is a learning curve to adjust to it. Breath and relax, I say to myself again. Trust the boat. Feel its secondary stability. Now settle into the seat. Loosen up those hands. Believe in yourself.

Halfway across the lake, I'm in the zone. The right frame of mind. Another deep breath and another big sweep of the paddle. The feeling of worry and anxiety is lifted away like the morning fog on the lake.

It has been raining here. Not as much as we need, but enough that the lake is sitting very high, indeed. It will be easy to get back into the sloughs and the tiny little bays of the lake. Some think damp and cold don't make for great kayaking conditions, but with the right gear such as dry pants, spray skirts, and splash jackets, the weather is only a state of mind.

I turn my kayak into the still water of the lake's backwaters. It's a network of flooded channels and canals of the riparian landscape. Often explored when the lake is high. A safe haven of sorts. It's out of the wind and out of sight to many. In the wintertime, the water is just so crystal clear. Unlike most summer days, I can easily see into the depths of water. I can make out the rocks, tree branches, and even a passing swimming turtle as if they were my own giant aquarium. The translucency of the waters is so much better in the winter than in the summer heat when it's filled with algae, green weeds, and murky water.

There is no wind and little other sounds except the waterfowl. Rounding another watery corner, I spot a couple of Mergansers diving into shallows. Nearby a majestic Snowy Egret is almost glowing against the green foliage of the slough. In the distance, a few wood ducks do their best to skirt away from my oncoming kayak, while the year-round residents of Canadian Geese pay me little attention except for some loud honking when I get a bit too close.

I drink in the morning on the lake and breath in the silent peacefulness of the slough. I remember chief officer Scotty from the 1960 TV series Star Trek. He was always able to get the Star Ship Enterprise going when something went wrong. All he needed was more time to get things done. This morning on the tranquil water, unlike Scotty, I need more time to do nothing except sit in the solace of my kayak watching wetland birds and creatures.
With a busy life and a lack of daytime hours to enjoy the water, my paddling can seem like a two-minute drill before running off to my wintertime jobs. I catch myself thinking about work schedules and looming deadlines. I check the clock on my phone.

Author A.A. Milne wrote, "Don’t underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I tell myself again. I have time. I veer my kayak around again for another tour through the refuge of the slough.

 

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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.

WASHINGTON BILL THAT WOULD IMPOSE NEW SAFETY RULES FOR KAYAKS

In Washington state, a House bill has been floated that backers say would increase safety for anyone using a kayak, canoe, or paddleboard has been making waves among water sport enthusiasts.

Applying the same rules the state implements in operating motorboats, the bill would require anyone renting or buying a paddle-operated vessel to take a boating safety course, pass an exam, and purchase a boater education card for $10. In the bill, anyone without a boater education card in their possession would be subject to a violation. The penalty would be waived if the boater provided proof to the court within 60 days that they received a boater education card.

“We are fifth in the nation for boating safety fatalities," the bill's sponsor Rep. John Lovick told MY Northwest, "If we’re having so many fatalities on the water, we should do something about that. The idea behind it, to make sure that people get the training that they need, get the education they need to stay safe on the water.”
A former Coast Guard member, Lovick says in 2020, 13 people statewide died paddle-sports related accidents.

Despite safety concerns, an effort is underway to sink the bill. Thousands have signed a petition encouraging the Washington Legislature to "say no" to a bill, saying the requirements would "create unnecessary burdens on Washington residents in ways that will make it more difficult for lower-income individuals to participate."

Scott Holley, president of Eddyline Kayaks, is leading the petition drive. He says that the measure will limit access to the water for lower-income paddlers and discourage folks from renting paddle crafts. So far, more than 15,000 people have signed a Change.org petition against the bill.

“Because of the availability of low-cost rental and purchase options, it really is accessible to people with a lower income,” he told MY Northwest, “Our worry is that putting potentially expensive license and registration processes in place, along with having to purchase a card, is going to disproportionately impact lower-income participants."

House Bill 1018, which was introduced last month has since been referred to the Committee on Community and Economic Development.

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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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