Between the rock and the hard place, the river narrows and finds it way. --- Peter Heller
As a kayaker, I've never really thought much about whitewater rafting. It was something river tourists did. But, not guys who regularly kayak. Kayaks are sleek, nimble, and fast. A good paddler can control their movements on the water and seek out eddies to catch and waves to surf, while those rafts are big, bulky, and cumbersome. It's been my experience while on the Lower American River that those rafts are slow and a little boring as they aimlessly drift in the current. Holding a beer can instead of a paddle, those folks watch me paddle by having all the fun.
So when Sydney Strange invited my wife Debbie and me for a trip down the South Fork of the American River, I didn't know what to expect. And nor did I know I would have the time of my life.
The South Fork of the American River is one of the most popular destinations for whitewater kayaking and rafting in all of California. The site which spawned the Gold Rush now attracts thrill-seekers of every age looking for that rush of adrenaline and excitement. The first 5 miles from the Chili Bar access is brimming full of Class III rapids with intimidating names like Meat-grinder and Trouble Maker. The so-called easy section runs from the Marshall Gold Discovery Historical State Park access to the Greenwood Creek through the valley consisting of several Class II rapids, including a popular surf spot named Barking Dog.
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Raft guide Sydney Strange
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It's a warm-up for "The Gorge." Descending at 33-feet per mile toward Folsom Lake for 10 miles, the river moves and moves fast, featuring the river's most challenging series of Class III rapids with even more fearsome and heart-pumping handles like Satan's Cesspool, Scissors, and its last big drop called Hospital Bar. I had never paddled it before, but I certainly had heard the stories of all the fabled rapids.
After shuttling our vehicles in place, Debbie and I met Sydney, her mom, and another friend at the Whitewater Excitement, where she's a river guide. Young, slender, and athletic, Sydney is a recent high school grad in her rookie season on the river. Sydney, however, had the confidence of a veteran. As our boat captain for the day, she would be in charge. In giving us a few instructions just after hitting the river. She told those of us in the front of the raft to paddle in sync, which proved to be a little tricky at first. When she would call for us to forward paddle, we would lean forward and forward paddle. When she called for us to back paddle, we would lean forward with our paddles in hand and pull our blades backward. When she commanded the two on the right to back paddle, while the on the two left to forward paddle, we would coordinate our strokes in kind. And most important, when she ordered us to paddle forward hard, we would dig our paddles into the stream and paddle as hard as we could until she called for us to stop.
Now in my whitewater kayak, I would've been dodging the rocks and boulders of Highway Rapids, but the big raft flew over them and danced over the waves of Swimmer Rapids with little effort. From here on would be an uncharted country for me. My whitewater skills are not quite up "The Gorge" just yet. I had never had gone past this Greenwood access till that day.
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Debbie Carlson
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A popular destination for whitewater rafting, we followed, as well as led, a parade of rafts full of kids, chaperones, parents, and their river guides down the narrowing stream past landmark rocks along the river that resembles an alligator and a gorilla. At Gorilla Rock, some of the raft guides pulled aside to let brave daredevils leap off the rock into the deep pool before proceeding on.
My wife Debbie had been smiling and laughing the whole way like a kid on a roller coaster. While she had paddled countless times with me, this was her first whitewater experience.
"It's so beautiful here on the river. I can't believe I've lived here this long and have never done this," Debbie told us, "We'll have to do this every year from now on."
Seeing the large tree on top of the mountain called the Lollipop tree marks the beginning of the storied "Gorge." It's here where the river drops, the channel narrows, and the canyon walls get steep, creating large standing waves. If you are not holding on to your hat, you'll most likely lose it at Lost Hat Rapids, a series of drops and massive waves, leading up to Satan's Cesspool.
Guiding and steering from the back of the raft, Sydney had already lead us through some incredibly fun and splashing waves with assurance and calm. Even when the raft got pin-up against some rocks, she would coolly pry us off the boulder with her paddle or order us all to the other side of the raft to lift the weight off the boat off the boulder, letting us free. She was doing all the work, and we were having all the fun.
"Here comes Satan's," Sydney called out over the rushing foam, "This is where all the photographers hang out. Paddle hard on my command!"
Satan's Cesspool at Class III is was one of the most feared rapids on the South Fork. Our blue raft followed the current that eased to the left, then swiftly turned to the right. Paddling hard from my position up in front, I could only glance up at my photo op before crashing down into a frothy hole that bent out our boat like a blueberry fruit rollup. If it hadn't for the foot loop at the bottom of the boat, I would have sailed overboard into the deluge. Meanwhile, Debbie, who was behind me, crashed forward into me like we were dominoes.
We were suddenly caught in the maelstrom, between the rock and the thundering river. The raft wouldn't budge off the rocks. In the rush of the water, we somehow got turned around on this thrill ride. I look up for an instant and see the photographers documenting our mishap like we were the flaming Hindenburg.
From then, my memory is blurry, all I can remember is our paddling crew laughing very loudly, as we tried to push our boat off the rocks. Sydney somehow got us off the rocks and back into the flow of the river. We only had a little time to catch our breath. More we continue to approach even more rapids.
"The Gorge" constricts even more as the colossal diagonal standing waves bounced us and the inflatable boat down the stream like a dribbling a basketball on a fast break. At the peak of each wave, we'd hold our breath only to toboggan down its slope with enough momentum to climb the next oncoming wave. Crashing into each wave, we were showered, with a churning hurricane of water with each drop.
"There's one more big one." Sydney told us, "Get ready."
"The Gorge's" last huge drop is called Hospital Bar Rapids, not because its huge series of waves that has been know to flip boats and wipe out paddlers, but because it was named a medical outpost set up here during the Gold Rush.
Our raft fell down its chute that twisted left and the right till another watery splashdown. We rode those bucking waves like a rodeo bronco getting a perfect score. We cheered with a paddle high-five. Lifting our paddles into the air above our heads, clicking them together in celebration.
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Our Whitewater Rafting Crew
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In this year of low water, there were a few more rapids to run before we caught sight of the Salmon Falls Bridge and our takeout. Usually, they are underwater in Folsom Reservoir, so we enjoyed a little bonus round of whitewater to send us off smiling.
Thanks to our guide Sydney, My first trip down the Gorge was memorable. I look forward to many more trips down it in the future. And maybe even one day in my whitewater kayak.
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