Some journeys take us far from home. Some adventures lead us to our destiny.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Monday, December 22, 2014
2014 in Review: The Years Top Photos.
On Folsom Lake with Bayside Adventure Sports. |
While a good chunk of the paddling was done with my wife or solo, I also had the good fortune of kayaking with Erik Allen and members of Bayside Adventure Sports, The Sacramento Paddle Pushers and the gang at Current Adventures. Those groups introduced me to some new friends, fellow paddlers and new places to paddle, making it an exciting year. We all share the same passion of being outside on the water.
In 2015, I look for even more adventures on the water, trail and snow. Wishing all of you the same. Happy Holidays Everyone!
Breaking a record with Paddle Pushers. |
San Juan Rapids |
Portage to the River. |
On the Lower American River. |
Surfing on the South Fork. |
Snowshoeing the Sierra |
Heading up to the cable. |
Lunch on Loon Lake |
Over the Folsom rainbow |
Record Breaking Day |
Splashing at Squaw |
End of the night on the American |
Yoga and Kayaking |
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Loon Lake & Wrights Lake
The Crystal Basin Recreation Area of the Eldorado National Forest, spans 85,000
acres of pine and fir forests along the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada. Capped by the
majestic, granite peaks of the Crystal Range and traversed by lakes, reservoirs and streams, the Crystal Basin’s four seasons and varied terrain offer a diverse range of rugged outdoor adventure.
Over this past summer I had an opportunity to visit three of the recreation area's lakes. At nearly 7,000 feet in elevation, Wrights Lake is a 40-acre body of water looking up at the majestic peaks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Popular on a summer's day, the lake is perfect for swimming and picnicking along its shore. Motorboats are prohibited keeping the area quiet and serene.
Not far down the road from Wrights Lake is Dark Lake. While most would skip kayaking this small lake, it's horror movie name might make you want to paddle around it once or twice. Nestled in the pines it offers a peaceful paddle.
Loon Lake Reservoir is ideal for a kayak camping trip and attracts scores of visitors to it campsites and stunning waterfront. The lake's sparkling clear waters covers some 76,000 acres perfect for a camping & kayaking adventure. A rocky and pine covered shoreline adds to the delight.
Over this past summer I had an opportunity to visit three of the recreation area's lakes. At nearly 7,000 feet in elevation, Wrights Lake is a 40-acre body of water looking up at the majestic peaks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Popular on a summer's day, the lake is perfect for swimming and picnicking along its shore. Motorboats are prohibited keeping the area quiet and serene.
Not far down the road from Wrights Lake is Dark Lake. While most would skip kayaking this small lake, it's horror movie name might make you want to paddle around it once or twice. Nestled in the pines it offers a peaceful paddle.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
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.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Cronan Ranch
A waxing moon shines over the eastern horizon. Golden foothills glow in fading sunlight. Far off, the Sierra Nevada mountain tops are covered with snow. It is autumn at Cronan Ranch.
Not looking for a walk around the block, we picked Cronan Ranch Regional Trails Park for an afternoon hike. Debbie likes its peacefulness, while I like getting to see a river view. The park is located in Pilot Hill, California. It has 12 miles of trails for biking, horseback riding and hiking near and along the South Fork of the American River. There is a variety of terrain to traverse from gently sloped hills to oak woodlands and rocky riverfront trails.
We got a late start. The sun was already beginning to dip behind hills when we started on the Down and Up Trail. It lives up to its name, as it takes us up through the bright gold colored grasses of the Sierra Foothills. We follow a ribbon of red dirt as afternoon shadows creep over the hills chasing us along the way.
The trail reaches the top if the hill and then winds us down into a ravine of oak and pine woodlands. We can hear the rush of the river hidden in the trees. Like always, I can hear the river calling before I can see it.
We walk along the river's banks for short time before heading back up Long Valley Trail. The sun has set by now, leaving us to walk back in darkness, listening to the hoots of the owls.
The Cronan Ranch Regional Trails Park was purchased by the American River Conservancy, Bureau of Land Management and other partners and placed into public trust to be used for recreation and wildlife conservation.
Friday, October 31, 2014
My Walden
"A lake is the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth's eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature." - Henry David Thoreau
It's a right turn. Another right after a block. Down the hill and across the bridge. To my right, the river, to my left the lake. A left turn toward the park entrance and through the gate. Wave to the park attendant and turn left into the parking lot. The kayak comes off the roof and slides into the water.
On the lake now. Paddling hard to cross it. Around the bend into quiet waters and through the culvert under the bike trail. I'm there now. My own personal Walden.
Walden or Life in the Woods written by Henry David Thoreau, philosopher and naturalist in 1854, is a reflection upon living simply in natures surroundings. Thoreau detailed his daily experiences over the course of two years, two months, and two days in a cabin he built near Walden Pond in the woods owned by his friend and mentor, Ralph Waldo Emerson near Concord, Massachusetts.
"In such a day, in September or October, Walden is a perfect forest mirror, set round with stones as precious to my eye as if fewer or rarer. Nothing so fair, so pure, and at the same time so large, as a lake, perchance, lies on the surface of the earth. Sky water. It needs no fence. Nations come and go without defiling it. It is a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver will never wear off, whose gilding Nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh; — a mirror in which all impurity presented to it sinks, swept and dusted by the sun's hazy brush — this the light dust-cloth — which retains no breath that is breathed on it, but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface, and be reflected in its bosom still." -Henry David Thoreau
A 160 years later, I find this same peace and solitude paddling in the sloughs of Lake Natoma. There is only one way in and one way out. No rush after that. Only a watery path meandering through little islands that geese, ducks and frogs call home. Along the way, I hear the plop of turtles falling off the dead logs into the water. I can see them for only moments before they slip under the dark water. I'm just a little too close, I suppose.
There is a touch of color along the banks. Bright reds and dull yellows in the trees give notice that it is autumn in northern California. Blackberry bushes line the water's edge. Weeks ago they were full of ripe berries, but they are mostly gone now. Up away, towards the end of the slough, cattails take over the view. Ducks and deer are common here. The deer stand motionless hoping not to be seen before escaping into the woods, while the ducks swim about used to visitors.
The kayak makes little sound gliding through the water. My paddle slides in and out methodically. There is no hurry at my Walden.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Kayaking Fargo. Autumn on the Red River
On the Red River between Fargo and Moorhead. |
There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life. Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures---Shakespeare
The colors of the trees are burning bright. The air is crisp and clear. A morning mist slowly rises over the river's muddy looking waters. It's the favorite time of year for many to paddle the Red River.
When fall comes to the Red River Valley only the hardiest have yet to put away their canoes or kayaks for the season. The morning chill in the air is just a reminder of the what lays ahead. But, those coldest days are still months away and now it time to enjoy the relaxing and peaceful flows of this meandering river.
Gone is the mud at the inputs. Gone is the high water from the spring melt and the summer rains. Gone are the mosquitoes after the first frost. The Red River is once again comfortable in its banks, before going into its winter hibernation.
In between Fargo and Moorhead, the river will glisten in the fading sunshine. I can remember, gliding along in my kayak breaking the mirrored image of the water's surface. The water had an uncommon clarity. Along the shore, the leaves are full of color. It doesn't last long before they are swept away by the wind, rain, and snow.
The season is short in the north. A long winter looms when it brings the first snow to the river in October. The sound the bow crashing into layers of ice shatters the silence, echoing off the stillness of the water. A reminder of the coming to end to the paddling season.
The first snow of the season. |
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