History is a symphony of echoes heard and unheard. It is a poem with events as verses. ---Charles Angoff
The water was low. So low, I doubt the summertime crowds would recognize the place just off the Salmon Falls Road at the Skunk Hollow access to Folsom Reservoir. It's the usual take out spot for rafters and kayakers after running the South Fork of the American River. Bustling with traffic on any hot summer day, but on a quiet afternoon in February, I had the place pretty to myself.
It was a long walk down the grade to the water. The exposed rock and dirt of the rim of the reservoir resembled the surface of Mars from the vegetation down to the stream, while parch white and sand-colored boulders are blotches along the water's edge.
I sunk into the mud and muck up to my ankles along the shoreline, plowing my boat's keel through the sediment of goo before I found solid footing and clear water.
There was current here as the river converges with the lake. In places, the water tumbles over rocky slopes saying it's way to shallow to paddle much upstream. Feeling the tug of the current, I paddle towards the lake.
It's a pretty lonely spot. I marvel at the engineering of the rock retaining walls built by hand in the 1850s to support the Natomas Ditch that supplied water to the miners, wineries, and ranches along the banks of the South Fork of the American River. Historical records say, By 1853, the Natoma Company had constructed 16 miles of canals and ditches to divert water from the river, particularly from upriver at the Salmon Falls area, and carried it to Mormon Island and Prairie City. Of course, the construction of Folsom Dam in the 1950s ended that, making that ditch obsolete and a footnote in the area's history.
As I moved, further along, I caught sight of the old Salmon Falls Bridge looming ahead. The only remnant left behind of the washed away gold mining town of Salmon Falls, now also under the lake. Now the out of place monolith spanned the lake partially submerged in the water and was lined with caution buoys.
Built-in 1925, the bridge is now dubbed Hidden Bridge because it's usually covered over by the lake. It is said, on extremely rare occasions, when the reservoir is low enough, the bridge is accessible for foot traffic like it was during the drought year of 2014. During that year, it was the last time I paddled here, and I paddled under it.
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White House on the Potomac, 1836-37 White House Collection/The White House Historical Association
"Life is a great adventure…accept it in such a spirit. --Theodore Roosevelt
In the spirit of President’s Day, we salute those who have answered the call to higher office in service to our nation as President of the United States. From the high to lows, these men have shaped our country's history and standing around the free world. As Abraham Lincoln said, ”The Presidency, even to the most experienced politicians, is no bed of roses; and General Taylor like others, found thorns within it. No human being can fill that station and escape censure." But for some presidents, the river called and kept calling, offering adventure and liberation from the burden of our highest office.
In the early days of our fledgling nation, our country's rivers were natural highways allowing for westward expansion and transporting raw materials such as lumber, fur, food, and other supplies. Our early canoeing presidents identified with this need to explore our seemly less endless waterways.
Thomas Jefferson called the Ohio River the most beautiful river on earth. "Its current gentle," he went on, "Waters clear, and bosom smooth and unbroken by rocks and rapids, a single instance only excepted."
As river traffic began to decline by the 1870s, thanks to trains, a coinciding interest in nature emerged producing a new recreational activity called tourism. Affluent citizens and presidents were now flocking to scenic lake and river locations for fishing, canoeing, boating, for rest and relaxation.
Wisconsin's Brule River is often called the River of Presidents because five United States Presidents have visited and to fish the north woods river, Ulysses S. Grant, Grover Cleveland, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, and Dwight Eisenhower.
Modern-day presidents dedicated themselves to environmental awareness and pledging to keep rivers running wild. It was President Lyndon Johnson who advocating for the Wild & Scenic Rivers Act in the 1960s who said, "The time has also come to identify and preserve free-flowing stretches of our great scenic rivers before growth and development make the beauty of the unspoiled waterway a memory.”
For many presidents, the call of the river poured into in their souls, making them who they were and guiding them on their path as president.
Here are 6 paddling presidents and their exploits on the water before, after and even during their presidency.
Daniel Huntington 1816-1906
George Washington 1789 to 1797 While our first president is mostly remembered for crossing ice-obstructed Delaware River on Christmas 1776 and leading a surprise attack on the Hessians during the American Revolutionary War, his days on the icy water didn't start there. In October 1753, Washington volunteered to lead a special envoy to make peace with the Iroquois Confederacy but more importantly tell that the French forces vacate territory claimed the British, after hearing their plans to establish forts along the Ohio River.
Traveling with the Ohio Company’s representative Christopher Gist on horseback, foot, and canoe across the Appalachians all the way to Ohio River and then up almost to the shores of Lake Erie Washington had various meetings with the Indian Chiefs of the area.
After delivering their message to the French, who said thanks but no thanks, the two found themselves double-crossed by their guide and on the run from hostile from Indians in the middle of winter.
Upon reaching the Allegheny River, they fashion a raft together in an attempt to cross it.
"I put out my setting pole to try to stop the raft, that the ice might pass us by," wrote Washington in his journal, "When the rapidity of the stream threw it with so much violence against the pole that it jerked me out into ten feet water, but I, fortunately, saved myself by catching hold of one of the raft logs; notwithstanding all our efforts we could not get the raft to either shore, but were obliged, as we were near an island, to quit our raft and make to it."
Wet, numb and exhausted they spent a miserable night on the island unable to make a fire. In the morning, luckily they had found the river was totally frozen so they were able to walk to the shore and continue on to Virginia and on to becoming the first president of the United States.
Thomas Jefferson 1801 to 1809 Though there little if anything was written about Jefferson ever paddling in a canoe, there is one thing we know for sure. He was obsessed with the rivers of the interior of what would later become the United States. In sending Lewis & Clark on perhaps the greatest paddling expedition he wrote,
"The object of your mission is to explore the Missouri river, & such principal stream of it, as, by it’s course & communication with the waters of the Pacific ocean, may offer the most direct & practicable water communication across this continent, for the purposes of commerce."
With a river and canoe trails named in his honor, it would be hard to leave him out of our group of river presidents.
Thomas Hart Benton 1889-1975
Abraham Lincoln 1861-1865 One of our first backwood presidents, Lincoln with a gift of storytelling and doling out homespun advice such as "It is not best to swap horses while crossing the river."
Yet unlike Henry David Thoreau and John Muir, Lincoln was not a naturalist and thought of waterways as something tamed and advocated improving and clearing the rivers to accommodate large boats for commerce. In 1849 he even filed a patent application for a boat buoying system to raise boats in shallow water.
Undoubtedly Lincoln had a deep appreciation for Illinois' Sangamon River. He was looking for a bit of adventure when the 21-year-old Lincoln and his cousin paddled away from the homestead in a newly purchased canoe in spring 1831. He didn't get far before being hired on to a crew building a Mississippi style flatboat at a river encampment near Sangamo Town. When built he and others would transport cargo and goods all the way down to New Orleans.
Every bit a riverman, the young Lincoln was described by one of the locals as "the rawest, most primitive-looking specimen of humanity I ever saw. Tall, bony, and as homely as he has ever been pictured.”
During construction of the boat, a tale is told how young Lincoln rescued two co-workers from the icy waters after they capsized their canoe and were swept downriver cling to an overhanging tree. Lincoln tied a long rope to a log and drop it into the current. As were others holding the rope, he jumped aboard the floating plank wrapping his legs around the log and drifted it towards the tree and men. Once the men were able to grab on to the log, he singled the others to pull them back like a fish on a hook.
That dramatic log rescue made Lincoln a bit hero along the river. But as he would later say, “It often requires more courage to dare to do right than to fear to do wrong.”
What more could you expect from the president who went on to save the union?
Illustration from August 1886
Grover Cleveland, the only president to serve two non-consecutive terms, 1885–1889 and 1893–1897 Fast-forwarding to the late 19th century, many of our rivers, streams, and lakes were much like they are now, were places for vacations while escaping the burden of the office. Looking at Grover Cleveland you wouldn’t think of him as an outdoorsman, but, he was an avid camper, hunter and but mostly a fisherman. As a matter of fact, he was such a passionate angler that the press often accused him of spending too much time on the water and not enough time at the White House.
He defended himself and the honor of all fishermen accused of being lazy in the Saturday Evening Post when he wrote, "What sense is there in the charge of laziness sometimes made against true fishermen? Laziness has no place in the constitution of a man who starts at sunrise and tramps all day with only a sandwich to eat, floundering through bushes and briers and stumbling over rocks or wading streams in pursuit of elusive trout. Neither can a fisherman who, with rod in hand, sits in a boat or on a bank all day be called lazy—provided he attends to his fishing and is physically and mentally alert at his occupation.”
Cleveland also published a book in 1901, called Fishing and Shooting Sketches, displaying his humor and love of the outdoors. He would write, "In these sad and ominous days of mad fortune chasing, every patriotic, thoughtful citizen, whether he fishes or not, should lament that we have not among our countrymen more fishermen." Theodore Roosevelt 1901 to 1909 He would be arguably our most adventuresome president. A cowboy, a soldier. a big game hunter and a river explorer, Roosevelt lived what he preached the “strenuous life.”
Library of Congress
"The man who does not shrink from danger," wrote Roosevelt, "From hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the splendid ultimate triumph.”
A fierce naturalist and warrior for wildlife and wild places he left an enduring legacy through policy and legislation still felt today. As president, he designated five national parks and created programs that would protect 230 million acres of land.
"All life in the wilderness is so pleasant that the temptation is to consider each particular variety, while one is enjoying it, as better than any other," he said "A canoe trip through the great forests, a trip with a pack-train among the mountains, a trip on snow-shoes through the silent, mysterious fairy-land of the woods in winter--each has its peculiar charm."
After losing the 1912 election to Woodrow Wilson, Roosevelt accepted an opportunity to explore an uncharted tributary of the Amazon: the mysterious Rio da Dúvida, or River of Doubt. Despite little experience with the South American jungle, the burly 55-year-old ex-president called it his “last chance to be a boy,”
Traveling along the winding jungle waterway, the expedition was plagued by tropical illnesses, lack of supplies, alligators, piranhas, venomous snakes, and hostile native tribes, but mostly miles of tortuous rapids.
Roosevelt's crew were forced to either portage their boats on their backs through the dense jungle or shoot the whitewater rapids in their canoes. On one such occasion, one crewman drowns after attempting to run a waterfall.
Injured and sick Roosevelt finished the two-month river odyssey more dead than alive and never quite recovered. He died in his sleep in 1919 at the age of 60, but by then, the river of Doubt had a new name. It's now called the Roosevelt River.
Wisconsin Historical Society
Calvin Coolidge 1923 to 1929Silent Cal as they called him, loved the quiet tranquility of the water. In the summer of 1928, he escaped to Wisconsin's Brule River where he called the Cedar Island Lodge his "Summer White House."
Accompanied by his Indian guide, John LaRock, he could while away the hours fishing from his canoe which he appley named "Beaver Dick." It was a much more innocent time back then, so you'll have to take our word for it and not Google search this, but it was said he named it after the legendary mountain man Richard “Beaver Dick” Leigh who lived in the Tetons and Yellowstone area in the 1860s.
For Coolidge who had decided not to run for re-election as president and the canoeing and fishing seemed to take over his time that summer.
“These are true outdoor sports in the highest sense," said Coolidge, "And must be pursued in a way that develops energy, perseverance, skill, and courage of the individual."
However, many denounced his passion for paddling and fishing while ignoring his presidential duties. The nearby Duluth Herald reported, “Paddling a canoe up the Brule river is more interesting to President Coolidge than the Democratic national convention which opened at Houston today. Attention to business routine and recreation are again on the schedule today, with the president more anxious to master the paddling of a canoe against the Brule rapids than in learning what is going on at the … convention.”
When he left later that summer, he told the people he hoped to return someday but never did. He died a few years later during the height of the Great Depression and the birch bark canoe the Beaver Dick floated away into history. Jimmy Carter 1977 to 1981 In 1974, the strumming and picking of Dueling Banjos were still reverberating through the hills along Georgia's Chattooga River when Carter and his paddling partner Claude Terry canoed its free-flowing whitewater that was the backdrop to the movie, Deliverance.
Having grown up along a small creek in rural Georgia, Carter came to appreciate the water, but it was his time on the Chattooga that gave rebirth to his passion for wild rivers.
"The Chattooga was the first time I ever risked my life, I would say, in going down a wild river," Carter said in the short film Wild President by NRS and American Rivers celebrating the 50th Anniversary of the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act.
Courtesy of Doug Woodward and American Rivers
While governor of Georgia, Carter says he learned all he could about canoeing and kayaking from Terry, the co-founder of American Rivers and capped off the training by making the first tandem canoe descent over Bull Sluice Rapid, one of the river's prominent Class IV rapids.
"There is a religious experience in coming over top of a huge rapid and burying your bowman’s face down until you maybe can’t see him,” Terry recalled in the film about their adventurous canoe run.
"I think it gave me a sense of heroism in confronting the awe-inspiring power Chattooga," Carter would add.
That experience transformed his life and shape his political career, just as it did Teddy Roosevelt's. He became a staunch supporter of the environmental causes and protector of wild rivers. Shortly after the river run, Carter successfully pushed to designate 57 miles of the Chattooga as Wild & Scenic.
As president, his administration designated more than 40 new Wild and Scenic Rivers, protecting over 5,300 miles of what can be thought of as our National Parks for rivers.
“My motivation was trying to preserve the beauty of God’s world,” said Carter said in the film, “I think it’s very important for all Americans to take a stand, a positive stand, in protecting wild rivers. I hope that all Americans will join together with me and others who love the outdoors to protect this for our children and our grandchildren.”
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Bogart: How'd you like it? Hepburn: Like it? Bogart: Whitewater rapids! Hepburn: I never dreamed. . . Bogart: I don't blame you for being scared -- not one bit. Nobody with good sense ain't scare of whitewater. Hepburn: I never dreamed that any mere physical experience could be so stimulating. -The African Queen
Erik Allen looked at me sternly. Things needed to happen fast and now. I
was soaking wet standing in swirling ankle-deep freezing water after being tossed about in the rapids of the North Fork of the American like a bobbing float toy. I had gathered enough strength to swim to the rocky shore and found some footing. The boat I had used was somewhere downstream, consequentially leaving me marooned on the wrong side of the river. It was Groundhog's Day.
"You're going to have to swim across to the other side of the river,"
Erik said over the sound of the rushing water. "There is no trail here.
We're on the wrong side dude!"
Moments before, I had suffered a classic boater's beat-down nightmare.
Upstream, I had rolled and was forced to swim. I could still see the emerald wave moving in slow motion. It was curling, big, and looked ten feet tall. I was hypnotized by its size and power. I lost focus and froze, committing the cardinal sin of white-water kayaking. I had
stopped paddling just hoping to ride it out.
"Fearful or tentative paddling is often a self-fulfilling prophecy, " said Team Pyranha's Pete Delosa,
"When we are afraid of what might happen when focus on that thing and thereby cause it to happen. It's better to paddle aggressively and stay focused on the desired outcome. This is, of course, easier said than done a lot of the time. But, when you're tense the boat isn't able to rock with the water under you. You and your boat can't move independent
of each other and that's when you get knocked over."
There is a saying on the river that every paddler, even the good ones are in between swims. According to the Whitewater Rescue Institutes's Mike Johnston,
"When you fall in whitewater, it's common to be held underwater for a
few seconds. Time seems to slow down. It's sort of like the dog years ratio, one actual second of submersion seems like about seven seconds.
When you need to breathe and can't, three seconds can seem like twenty.
This isn't a long time at your desk but can feel like forever at the bottom of a rapid. Don't panic."
When I rolled and broke away from my kayak, I was on my back with my feet downstream. I had one hand locked to my paddle and the other latched to the floundering boat as I bobbed along in the Class III
torrent. The turbulent and aerated waves frothed and bounded dishing out their fury on my body and boat. Keeping my feet pointed downstream, I used my body to angle through the current maneuvering right or left,
with the boat in front of me. I kept my body long and streamlined to maneuver smoothly and efficiently. The goal now was not to get hurt.
"The world goes dark, " writer and adventurer Joe Kane said in his book Running the Amazon,
a firsthand account of the only expedition ever to travel the entire
4,200-mile Amazon River from its source in Peru to the Atlantic Ocean,
as he describes his swim through the abyss of churning rapids. "The
river— the word hardly does justice to the churning mess enveloping you—
the river tumbles you like so much laundry. It punches the air from your lungs. You're helpless. Swimming is a joke. You know for a fact that you are drowning. For the first time, you understand the strength of the insouciant monster that has swallowed you. Maybe you travel a
hundred feet before you surface (the current is moving that fast). And another hundred feet—just short of a truly fearsome plunge, one that will surely kill you— before you see the rescue lines. You're hauled to
shore wearing a sheepish grin and a look in your eye that is equal parts
confusion, respect, and raw fear."
Erik was quick to my rescue after I had bounced like a floating beach ball through the big waves. "Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled out. In a moment of hesitation, I clung to my boat even tighter rolling into the fury of the rapid. People forget to emphasize that on single boat trips, the backup plan is always self-rescue. It's good risk
management to apply the buddy system to every river trip.
Erik Allen has what they call the water gene. A former Navy medic, he has taken up adventure guiding as his true passion. He is at home on the water as he is on land. He often leads groups snowshoeing, camping, and hiking as well as kayaking. He is used to taking care of others while
out in the wild.
"Let go of the boat and grab on," he yelled again. I released my boat and watched it from the corners of my eyes drift away from me. "Give me
your paddle!" I reached my paddle out from the waves. Erik snatched it from my hand. Then I swam with all my might to reach the back of his playboat. Stroke one, stroke two, and one more. The freezing water was leaving me breathless as his boat rushed ahead just out of reach.
Another lunge forward and finally I caught his stern handle as the waves punched at me again and again. As I caught breaths of air between
the trough of waves, I hung on tight to his boat as we were poured into
a huge rapid.
Everyone should know about the potential for entrapment in moving water.
I tried minimizing the risk of foot entrapment in moving water by keeping my feet up while hanging on the back of Eric's boat. My feet could act like hooks possibly to get caught between cracks in rocks or any type of nook or cranny on the bottom of the river. However, in this
improvised swimming position with my hands forward clutching Eric's
kayak, I banged my knee and shins against the rocks. You would think
after soaking for thousands of years they would be a little softer, but
as we all know, rocks are very hard.
"Now swim, swim!' Erik shouted. I had turned from being a defensive swimmer to an aggressive one. Aggressive swimming is used to get from point A to point B as fast as possible. I let his boat go and with the
American crawl kicked it into high gear, setting a ferry angle to cross fast-moving current. Ferrying swimmers use the same techniques used when boating. Keep your head up so you can see where you are going, set a
ferry angle and swim hard. Faster water uses a smaller angle and very slow water I could simply swim directly across at a 90 ° angle. As a former high school swimmer, I knew how to push my arms forward. Before long I found some shallow rushing water.
After that long swim, I was very tempted to stand up when I got close to the rocky and rough shore. The water was still moving very quickly and was deeper than my knees. Standing up to early I knew I could possibly get knocked down. I took my time to stand when I found some decent footing. The only problem was it was on the wrong side of the
river.
"You do not know how long you are in a river when the current moves swiftly. It seems a long time and it may be very short." Ernest
Hemingway wrote in A Farewell to Arms. Joe Kane seems to follow it when he wrote, "That is River Lesson Number One. Everyone suffers it.
And every time you get the least bit cocky, every time you think you
have finally figured out what the river is all about, you suffer it all
over again.”
I pretty much lost everything but my paddle. For boaters on the South Fork of the American River, Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips'
Dan Crandall, offers these tips, "Any gear lost to the river will more likely end up in the reservoirs below, but in much worse condition than when it left you. All gear such as throw ropes and dry bags should be
tied in and your name and phone number on each piece of your gear are
always sound pieces of advice and will help tremendously in your gear's
return." Mine gear, however, was lost for good.
"Catch your breath," Erik said, I sensed the stress in his voice, "We
will go when you're ready." He said while peering downstream searching the shoreline for the missing boat. With every moment it was getting further and further downstream.
No man with any sense is going to willingly jump back into a freezing river again.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Dripping, shaking and aching in pain, All I could say was "Let's go."
I dove into the river clinging tightly to the playboats back handle. I
didn't have time for fear and shook off the cold of the water. My goal was to push through or in my case be dragged over to the other side.
Into another wave. It seemed to crash around us. I took gulps of air between plunges underwater. Losing track of time and feeling as the water and rocks beat down on my body. Erik delivered me halfway and I
had to swim the rest.
A lonely woman hiker watched the whole thing from the trail. As I
climbed out of the river and limp up the side of the shore. She greeted me looking stunned.
"Should I call 911?" she asked.
Still, out-breath, and I shook my head no.
"Are you alright?"
I nodded and said breathlessly, "It's just another day on the North Fork of the American River."
"I almost died whitewater kayaking six years ago," she said with sympathy.
I laughed and said to her "It almost killed me today."
Then took off down the trail in search of Erik.
This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max on February 19, 2017.
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Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. ---Helen Keller
Back in the 1970s, John Denver recorded his hit record celebrating the Colorado Rockies Mountain called Rocky Mountain High. It was seemly an autobiographical song about one finding one's self in their own special place, they're own Eden that they have been called too and now call home. The opening verse I really like goes like this.
He was born in the summer of his 27th year Coming home to a place he'd never been before He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again You might say he found a key for every door...
The genesis inquiry. It's a question I'm most often asked. When did you start paddling? Or it's sometimes asked this way. What made you start paddling?
My answer is usually trite. Something like it's been a while now or I don't know I just started and fell in love with the sport, you know, like Forest Gump, "I think I'll paddle now."
Kayaking can truly be a life-changing experience. It's that feeling of being on the water conjoined with the sensation of freedom and adventure. And for many, that feeling can become in ways highly addictive.
"When one is completely immersed in the elements, experience is heightened as increased awareness is demanded and dulled senses are rejuvenated," wrote the founder of Werner Paddles, Werner Furrer Sr.
Current Adventures Kayaking School & Trips' Dan Crandall who leads annual trips down the Grand Canyon has told me of folks who just up and quit their jobs or their relationships and totally changed their lives after just one trip down the canyon because they were so intoxicated by the river and paddling.
Mine is a different story, but still much the same. Paddling, like for many, had made a few entrances into my life early on. As a teen, I paddled as much as I could while growing up in Nebraska in the 1970s. I took some great canoe trips down the Niobrara River and Missouri River with science trips offered by my public schools. It usually featured long school bus trips, Grumman canoes, along with red licorice and beef jerky.
At 14, it was pretty exciting to finally get on the water for an overnight canoe trip. We would arrive just before dark to a campsite hopped up on sodas, candy bars and the buzz of anticipation and try to get to sleep.
The next day, the excitement would build as outfitters arrived with trailers of canoes, PFDs, and paddles. We tried not to laugh when the first few inexperienced paddlers capsize, knowing it could just as well happen to us. When finally on the river, water fights and canoe dumping, along with developing paddling skills and new friendships entailed over the journey downriver.
I'm still kicking myself for not signing up for the 10-day summer trip to the BWCA and highlighted with a visit to the Rootbeer Lady cabin. If I had only known what I was missing.
For most, outside a few lucky ones who would make it their business AKA, Dan Crandall would be engulfed in life's eddy of education, career, and family. I was lucky to paddle only a few times a year or not at all. I'm sure there were a couple of years where I didn't even come close to a canoe or kayak. But, when I joined my kids at Minnesota summer camps, where swimming and canoeing are part of the daily programs, it reinvigorated my love of the water.
After the long illness and death of my wife paddling took over. I was alone, yet not alone. After the death of his daughter, writer Roger Rosenblatt sought the same therapy.
"I have taken to kayaking," he wrote in Kayak Morning, Reflections on Love, Grief and Small Boats, "They say people in grief become more like themselves. I have always been a loner, so going out in a kayak suits my temperament."
For the few years after her death, I to did seek the solace of nature and the healing powers of the water.
As Rosenblatt concluded in his meditation, "In this boat, on this creek, I am moving forward, even as I am moving in circles. Amy returns in my love, alive and beautiful. I have her still."
In his philosophical novel, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, writer, and pilot Richard Bach wrote, "The river delights to lift us free, if only we dare to let go. Our true work is this voyage, this adventure."
In 2013, with a new bride and five kayaks loaded on to a Chevy van, I came to California. It was a homecoming of sorts, to the places I had always dreamed about being. I wanted to see natural places with tranquil clear cobalt lakes and rushing wild whitewater and mountain vistas. I wanted places to unplug from the day to day tension of reality to reach out for the universe.
From my window, I now look east to the Sierra. Just down the road from Lake Natoma and the Lower American River. While up the road is South Fork the whitewater and crystal blue lakes of the Sierra. It astounds me how significant these destinations have become to me. For ones I have visited and paddled often, I know every rock, tree, and feature of the setting that they have become a part of me.
It's the same with the friends and even the strangers that I've joined with on the water. I've found that everyone is pretty much your friend when they have a paddle in their hand. I guess that why I counting down the days till I'm out with staff and crew of Current Adventures Kayaking School & Trips and in charge of the weekend paddle rentals on Lake Jenkinson at Sly Park Recreation Area this spring and summer.
On the eve of my 60th birthday, I still have the urge to find a home in even more locales both near and far. Even if I don't go far. I still have a quest to load my boat on top of the truck and journey down the road like Jack London's character Canim the Canoe, wanderer and far-journeyer over the earth.
"You know nothing of the sea," he boasts to wife in London's The Children of the Frost, "So let me tell you. As the lake is to the island; so the sea is to land; all the rivers run to it, and it is without end."
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Since it's creation in 1983, the American River Parkway Foundation has been striving to protect and sustain one of Sacramento County's most valuable natural resources, the American River Parkway. Following along the Lower American River, the Parkway offers equestrian and hiking trails, a first-class bike trail, and most of all a great paddling venue.
In conjunction with Sacramento County Parks, the ARPF coordinates programs and works with volunteers to foster environmental stewardship, facilitate volunteer opportunities, as well as fund and implement many Parkway projects.
This past month, the folks from the ARPF asked me to share my experiences of paddling along the Lower American River in their Stories from the Parkway series in hopes of increasing awareness, use, and support of this amazing river trail.
Sliding my kayak gently into the water, it’s not hard to grasp why in a few short years how this river has become so significant to me. I’ve come to know this river’s fickle moods. Its high water winters and early spring rush, its summertime playfulness, and its autumn bounty when the native Chinook salmon swim back upstream to spawn. I’ve paddled its slumberous wide curves and through its fast water rapids. I’ve watched its water roaring like thunder pouring its last dam and followed its a clear and bright emerald ribbon of water all the way to its end to dip my bow in at its milky confluence.
Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “A river is more than an amenity, it is a treasure.” I heartily agree. For me and many others, Northern California’s Lower American River is a rare jewel to behold. Fed by the melting snowpack of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the river is an essential source for the area’s drinking water, a productive provider of irrigation and hydroelectric power, and recreational highway for paddlers and fishermen. In its final twenty-some miles before pouring into the Sacramento River, it dispenses a peaceful serenity and magic to every creature along its wild banks despite being so near urban complexities of the city. And yes, to a certain extent it seems to be a living being in itself.
I often tell people paddling with me that after we push off onto the river they will be experiencing a totally different world even though we are in the heart of a densely populated urban area. Paddling down the river never ceases to amaze me of how I can escape into a backyard of nature just a few minutes from the buzz of city traffic. Where the only sound you will hear is that of birds, the wind and that primeval summons to our primordial values, the call of distant rapids coming from downriver.
As Henry David Thoreau wrote, “He who hears the rippling of rivers in these degenerate days will not utterly despair.”
“A river seems a magic thing,” declared photographer Laura Gilpin, “A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself.”
Sitting alongside the Lower American River earlier this week, the river does seem alive as it moved steadily to the sea. Flashes of Chinook salmon among the river’s ripples, scores of gulls, ducks and turkey vultures soar and flutter above, while I catch sight of black-tailed deer bounding through the stream. A large beavertail splash serves as a warning that I’ve come a just bit to close to his domain while chattering otters bark at my passing. The trees, vegetation, and even the rocky pilings that extend all the way along the stream add to the inspirit to this living essence.
It’s nature’s age-old symbiotic relationships between the river and all of its creatures. As long as the water keeps flowing, the river and the life it nurtures will continue to exist.
As humans in the era of climate change, we need to recognize this natural world around us and make our duty to care for it, protect it, and pass it on to generations to come.
This article was originally published as part of the American Rivers Foundation's Stories from the Parkway Series. The series is about people and their experiences while on the American River Parkway in hopes of strengthening the understanding of the
American River Parkway and the value it brings to the community. We encourage all of you to support the American River Parkway Foundation and its mission. And if you have a story you would like to tell about your experience using the parking, you can share it with the ARPF Newsletter.
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American River Parkway's Sailor Bar has always been a local favorite spot for me to paddle. Conveniently located near my home it not much trouble me to get on the water in a timely fashion. With good flow, I can paddle back and forth to the Sunrise River Access about two miles downriver in a little more than an hour including three portages that aren't too long. Making a very enjoyable afternoon or evening on the water and still home at a reasonable time.
Named after gold-seeking sailors who had reportedly jumped ship to stake their claim along the banks of the river. The park's area and the river were later dredged for gold. The bucket line dredges churned up the riverbed. The gold was filtered out and the leftover rock tailing was cast aside, texturing the park with piles and piles of rock.
Over the years, those rock pilings have been put to good use. Since the Nimbus Dam upstream from Sailor Bar prevents the salmon and steelhead from reaching their spawning grounds, construction crews funded by federal and state agencies have to periodically restore habitat for re-establishing a crucial spawning area for hundreds of native fish. The latest project was completed last fall after heavy machinery moved and placed thousand tons of rock and gravel into the river before the salmon run.
Another part of the project was to create a new side-channel that runs a parallel to the river for a little less than 200-yards. Shallow with sections of both fast and slow-moving water, it was created as a protected area for juvenile fish. But, the extra benefit is a creek like an environment with ripples, eddies, and waves perfect for an afternoon of paddling
Full disclaimer, by no means, am I an expert whitewater paddler. I'm not even average. I know paddlers who can make their kayaks dance over waves doing somersaults and spins in a stylish river ballet repertoire. They are amazing athletes who go over huge drops and surf big waves.
As for me, I just like the feel of the movement of water beneath my boat. The opportunity of learning and reading the river's flow and eddy lines. But mostly, I just like spending time on the water.
"There's always something new waiting for you on the river some new kind of challenge," slalom champion Jana Dukatova, told Red Bull, "White water is never the same, and there are so many features you can play with: surfing a wave, playing in a roll, dropping into a waterfall. As you improve, there's always more new fun stuff you can learn. You'll never get bored."
The smell of death and decay still lingers as skeletons of salmons dot the river banks with turkey vultures and gulls fighting over the leftover bones. Underneath the white ghostly corpses of giant fish slowly decompose at the bottom of the rivers icy waters.
I slid my boat in just above where the narrow channel turns and feeds back into the river. The current there is moving fast with water pouring over rocks providing a nice little standing wave and place to practice my surfing.
Once in place by pointing my bow upstream, I'm was able to skim on top of the water on the front of the wave.
"It's a lovely sensation," wrote kayaking adventure author Peter Heller, "Like flying, with all the river hurtling beneath you as you skip and veer down the front of the wave, held in place by its steepness."
In my little playboat, I was able to surf the wave back and forth with no real threat of rolling back and forth back and forth. Using forwards stokes, I attempted to keep the boat pointing upstream and carve and edging around the wave, that is until my strength wore out and I was flushed out downstream only to ferry back and try it again.
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,
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New Year - a new chapter, new verse, or just the same old story? Ultimately we write it. The choice is ours. -- Alex Morritt Three days into the year and ugh, bam, A##!, and geesh! I had hit the wrong button on the computer and my brilliant yet un-substantiated pros were capsized into my computer and swept away like leaves in high water. What a way to start 2020 for Outside to Max. So our a bit behind with this post. So what’s on your adventure horizon for 2020? As we stride into the new year, here is a list of 5 things of what we think will be influencing what we see on the water this year and beyond.
Kayaks on Demand
There is no doubt about it paddling sports participation will make a big splash in the new decade. Outdoor minded retiring boomers will be seeking both the health benefits of low impact fitness and peaceful and meditative of nature while kayaking. Kayak manufacturers, gear & clothing suppliers, and outfitters will have to take note that women are now representing about 45% of the paddling population and soon will outnumber the men. In turn, kayaks will be lighter, shorter and more versatile stressing stability but mostly comfort.
Places to Paddle
Canoeing and kayaking launch sites, take outs, and destinations are just a few clicks away as paddling apps help you plan the perfect place to kayak, canoe, or paddle near you.
Local municipalities will do their part by constructing long sought access areas to rivers and lakes in conjunction with paddling groups. Using the model build it and they come, forward-thinking water managers will propose whitewater parks like the one in Fort Collins, Colorado on the Poudre River to promote tourism and restores the river's banks to a more natural state.
Of course, that means to pay to play for many like in Oregon where paddlers using non-motorized boats will now need to purchase a new Waterway Access Permit, which will cost $5 for one week, $17 for a year or $30 for two years.
The switch went into effective Jan. 1, though officials won’t be enforcing the new permit until August 1.
The fees will help fund an aquatic invasive species prevention program, as well as new waterway access for non-motorized boating projects.
Safety Zone
We can only hope water safety awareness increases going into the new decade, but as inexpensive recreational kayaks float out of the big box stores like Costco and Sams Club, paddling instructors can't stress enough that kayaking and paddleboarding can seem leisurely at first, but a few small mistakes can turn them deadly quickly. First-time paddlers should take a training course and always wear your PFD.
And to answer the question, can you see me now? All commercial canoes and kayaks will have safety flags for the 2020 boating season on New York's Lake George in response to an increasing number of kayak and motorboat collisions on the lake. Kayaktivism
In 2015 thousands of boaters in Seattle and Portland, as well as smaller gatherings throughout the country, came together to protest Arctic drilling giving us the new term of Kayaktivism.
At the time, the Sierra Club’s Alli Harvey said, “The kayak is now a symbol for demanding a sea change in our approach to energy use and development.”
In this era of climate change, conservation advocacy groups and paddlers are forming alliances to work together to promote and protect waterways, restore damaged rivers and reduce carbon emissions.
Already, English paddler, Rob Thompson is doing his part. He collects discarded plastic from the ocean, along with used fishing nets. The plastic and nets are used to make kayaks, and the kayaks are used to help harvest even more ocean plastic. His company, Odyssey Innovation, sells kayaks made from recycled marine plastic for a small profit.
Future is Now
Innovations in technology will be thrown over the bow as kayaks and kaykers will be equipped with GPS touch screens powered by solar panels infused into the gel-coat of the boat. Boats designed for angling will be faster more maneuverable and hands-free. Folding kayaks and pack rafts will help us explore waterways thought to be inaccessible.
At the take out, your self-driving vehicle is already parked and your kayak load assists roof rack takes away all the heavy lifting.
For longer incursions, solar-powered lights and hands-free navigation to compact tents and tough cameras make that roughing it camping trip not so rough after all. Even your reliable Swiss Army Knife now comes with 41 functions including a built-in digital alarm clock, altimeter, barometer, thermometer and LED light. So let us all start the year and new decade off with the challenge to persevere, even if our computers drive us crazy and our phones run out battery power. As Mark Twain said, “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Paddle #151
Taylor Carlson on Lake Clementine
I had a great time over the Christmas break paddling with my son Taylor Carlson. I paddled to a new personal record of 151 paddling days in the calendar year. I started on California's Lake Natoma and finished the year on Lake Clementine.
Onward to 2020.
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