When the winds from the North don't venture forth.
Back in the Midwest, I never really got used to the wind. It was somewhere between an icy blast from the North. It's a tornadic rage from the west or a fiery blow torch from the South. Cool breezes were rare, calm days even more. The wind always seemed to be blowing. I can still remember those white-capped Minnesota lakes pushing the boats around. As a kayaker, the wind is always advantageous. I can tolerate snow. Paddle through the rain on any day. But it's always those stiff gusty winds that will prove to be the most troublesome. The wind is arguably the biggest environmental factor that can turn my otherwise beautiful kayaking day into a major struggle.
The America Canoe Association, Outdoor Adventures Kayaking book, published in 2009, says that the wind, particularly in touring and sea kayaking, where the paddler is exposed to large expanses of open water is usually the biggest factor to be concerned with. The instructional resource book says, "Wind causes two problems for the kayaker. First, a wind coming from any direction, except head-on, tends to weathervane the boat, sweeping it sideways toward the destination. This not only throws the boater off course but also makes the kayak feel less stable since it is being pushed sideways across the water." The book went on to say what every experienced paddler already knows. Headwinds can quickly tire you out and make that destination you are heading for seem to take forever to get to. While a good tailwind can be a paddler's friend as long as the winds continue to blow in the direction you are traveling. The wind is what makes waves. The unobstructed length of water over which wind can blow is called "Wind Fetch." The strength of the wind and the time it blows over the open water will determine the height of waves. The highest energy waves will form where there is a long expanse of unblocked water and sustaining high winds. So yes, kayaking can certainly be a wonderful experience on a lake like Lake Tahoe, but with some 22 miles of "Fetch" it can also be a tiger when the afternoon winds come up pushing large waves. So, while the not the ocean, big lakes can have winds over 10-mph be dramatically change paddling conditions and change your relaxing experience into a Peloton workout in no time. Our Sierra foothills lakes can often be accompanied by a stiff westerly afternoon wind requiring some intermediate boating skills to take on the rough and choppy lake swells. Over the years, I've learned many of my favorite paddling lakes consistence bad habits of strong gust beginning in the late morning and continuing throughout the day but eventually dying down towards evening.
Plan your kayak routes and canoes around the expected wind patterns in your area. Mornings and evenings are best for excursions to avoid those breezy gusts of the afternoon that will make your paddling day and anyone you like to paddle with much easier. But while nobody wants to paddle into a headwind, it can be an exhilarating exercise.
"If the waves are rolling and you are forced to make your way against them, there is the joy of battle," writes canoe guru Sigurd Olson, "Each comber an enemy to be thwarted, a problem in approach and defense." I can share a bit of Olson's glee. But only for a little while. I prefer dodging the gust and waves and seeking protection along the calmer shore and around islands blocking the strong gusts and fighting the wind for shorter periods of short distances. At least, that is always my plan when the wind comes up.
Lake Comanche
California's Camanche Reservoir, located east of Lodi, was named after the gold-mining town of Camanche built-in 1849, referring to the fierce southern plains' native American tribe by the same name. The town, now long gone at the bottom of the lake, is only a memory. But on breezy days, the waterway can live up to its fierce namesake when the northern winds toss whitecaps over the lake. John Taylor and I have battled strong winds before. Both on the Sierra high Loon Lake and even on those blustery days on Lake Natoma. We've struggled to keep our group together on foothills finger Lake Clementine when the afternoon wind picked up. I have had to help a couple of tired paddlers back to the access by towing them along. It was choppy when we started out on Lake Comanche. We headed out across the broad expanse of the lake from one of the many accesses of the Camanche Recreation Company campground and day-use area. We paddled to the east and found protection in the narrows of the lake. The high cliffs along the lake's east shores resemble a mini–Grand Canyon experience with tall multicolored rock formations on each side of us. After the narrows, we paddled into an area of grassy beaches called China Gulch, where we enjoyed wildlife views of eagles and otters.
Knowing the winds were picking up, we did not dare go further. Turning back into the wind, we knew it would be a battle to return to an even further access point where our truck was parked. When average wind speeds begin to climb into the 15 to 20 mile per hour range, that is when it’s time to get off the water. Anything above 20 miles per hour starts to become downright dangerous. We didn't know if it was blowing 10, 15, or even, 20 mph. All we knew was it was time for plan B. We needed to get off the lake as soon as possible.
Most lake paddlers start and finish at the same location. But wind can derail that plan. So, if you even have the slightest inkling that heavy winds could hamper your return, make sure you identify one or two other shoreline locations where you can land your craft if you can’t make it back to your starting location. There is no reason to tough it out, out there. Always think safety first.
I set my sights on a point on the other side of the lake. It was an island in high water, A peninsula when the lake is low. Either way, it would be our alternate landing. The wind and waves seemed to push us backward as we slowly paddled toward the peninsula. John in canoe trailed behind became a tiny yellow speck slipping over the tops of the whitecaps. As we all know, canoes sit a bit higher in the water and are a little more wind prone than kayaks. John was in a real battle against nature.
"The beast's claws scraped at the sky from the water below," wrote Natalie Warren in her book Hudson Bay Bound about the lashing waves of Lake Winnipeg," The large swells grew taller and sharper, threatening to crest and crash with each peak. If we swamped here, we would be trouble."
I felt the same as bounded over the waves. Using shorter and more frequent strokes into the headwind, was considerably more tiring. Paddle, paddle. Maneuvered some more big waves, and I tried to look behind me to check on John's process. It was to my relief that I finally made it across the lake to a safely protected cove. First, I could rest. And second, I could check on John. He and his canoe had been pushed off track, but he was making steady progress across the lake. But we were not done yet. The peninsula is connected to the mainland by a strand of hardpack mud covered with an overgrowth of weeds. My paddling guidebook said it was about 80 feet portage. It proved to be much further.
Still, it was much faster and less exhausting than paddling all the way around against the wind. After our portage, we had to paddle another short distance in the wind, before coming to our alternate landing. And it was just our luck that a friendly camping couple was there and offered us a ride to our truck. Nobody likes to paddle into a headwind. It’s always best to have that wind to your advantage as you paddle back toward your starting location. There is satisfaction in reaching any point on the lake map despite the wind and waves. Because, at the end of the day, when the wind finally dies. Though my muscles were sore, I still reveled in my day on the water.
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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.”
This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max on February 14, 2020.
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“The last days of this glacial winter are not yet past; we live in ‘creation’s dawn.’ The morning stars still sing together, and the world, though made, is still being made and becoming more beautiful every day.” John Muir
It was Groundhog Day at Yosemite. The stunning glacier-scarred valley was still partly covered with a blanket of crusty snow. The iconic granite formation of El Capitan and Half Dome stretched out in panoramic view, and the cascading waterfalls Upper and Lower Yosemite Falls, together are the continent's highest at over 2400-ft. The water plunged over the sheer cliff in a magnificence spray. Across the valley, Bridalveil Falls was a mixture of falling water and frozen layers clinging to the side of the mountain. In between, the snow-covered meadows embraced the ever so clear waters of the Merced River. To borrow a quote from naturalist John Muir, this is by far the grandest of all the special temples of nature I was ever permitted to enter.
Wintertime is an ideal time to visit the famed national park. During the summer, the park is extremely busy. While during the winter, the park is relatively quiet. During the few days, my wife Debbie and I visited, we experienced no crowds, no traffic, and no delays during our visit. And outside of ice in the parking lot, the roads were clear of snowmaking driving easy through the valley and up to the Tunnel View to see the incredible postcard-perfect shot of the valley.
We hiked to the tourist favorites of Yosemite. Our first stop was right up the base of two for one waterfall of Yosemite Falls to feel its spray and hear its pounding. Another hike included a jaunt to Mirror Lake that keenly reflected the 4,700-foot Half Dome towering over the peaceful lake. Looking skyward, I think of my friends who have ascended the over 8-mile trail to its very top. Some even more than once. On that day, I settled for just seeing the fabled summit glowing orange in the setting sun while on the trek back to our truck.
“The great rocks of Yosemite, expressing qualities of timeless yet intimate grandeur, are the most compelling formations of their kind," said photographer Ansel Adams, "We should not casually pass them by, for they are the very heart of the earth speaking to us.”
Spring does come early to most of California, despite what the groundhog predicts. However, with days like this one in the beauty, the wonder, and the solitude in the surreal splendors of Yosemite, I can only wish for six more weeks of winter if I could spend it here.
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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 its 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 a 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 the 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 half-way 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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Many a time I have merely closed my eyes at the end of yet another trouble some day and soaked my bruised psyche in wild water, rivers remembered, and rivers imagined. Rivers course through my dreams, rivers cold and fast, rivers well known and rivers nameless, rivers that seem like ribbons of blue water twisting through wide valleys, narrow rivers folded in layers of darkening shadows, rivers that have eroded down deep into the mountain's belly, sculpted the land, peeled back the planet's history exposing the texture of time itself. --- Harry Middleton
Loading up at other places that people find easier to get to. I sometimes get into conversations with boaters about where they like to paddle around Sacramento. "Have you ever been up to Rattlesnake Bar?" I'll ask them. The answer is usually either bewilderment or not for a long time as they think of the last time they were up there. Rattlesnake Bar is part of the California State Parks Folsom Lake Recreation Area. Located on the north arm of the lake, it's down a long dead-end road after the fork winding past white fences and horse barns towards the entrance of the park.
The lake glistens, flashing through the oaks and willows while driving down the narrow road after entering the park. During the drought years not too far back, it looked more like Mars seeing the dusty remnants of the lake. But this year the lake is brimming. The lake is 50 feet higher than last year. Going into the last week of September, many recreation lakes in California have the highest lake levels for this date in more than 10 years.
Forget weekends. Come to Rattlesnake Bar mid-week in the summer or wait till late fall or early spring to escape the speed boat and jet ski crowd. This is a playground for them all summer long when the lake is full and the gate to the ramp is open.
The water was still touching the end of the ramp on my last visit. In previous trips, I can remember some lengthy treks while shouldering my kayak down the ramp or along an arduous trail down a steep bank to the lake. The guidebooks said to watch for rattlesnakes, hence the name, but it should have warned me about that thick layer of muck and slimy goo in front of the lake. The water was a silty brown turned up by waves of jet skis and speed boats. It resembles more a choppy over perked coffee and cream color even past the 5-mph buoy about a mile north of the access. Those with a need for speed turn around and head back to the main part of the lake while those in search of the quiet of the lake, canyon, and river, proceed on.
Past Mormon Ravine, the lake widens and turns to the northeast. On the north side, the old Pony Express Trail is now a hiking path along the lake. Further up the lake narrows with rugged rocky ledges on both sides. I don't feel the tug of current on this visit, but I have before. It's common through here, for the lake to behave more like a river as the water level dictates where the river ends, and the lake begins. There is a sudden change of water temperature and clarity as the cool mountain North Fork of the American River pours into the lake. It was now a refreshing cold and running transparently clear.
"I have never seen a river that I could not love," wrote Canadian writer and conservationist Roderick Haig-Brown, "Moving water...has a fascinating vitality. It has power and grace and associations. It has a thousand colors and a thousand shapes, yet it follows laws so definite that the tiniest streamlet is an exact replica of a great river."
When I started kayaking, I dreamed of these river places Haig-Brown called "Water in its loveliest form." A clear water passageway between massive ramparts of broken disheveled texture, as the once molten rock now crystallized over millions of years, is exposed, lifted and shattered along the fault lines while large boulders have become their own islands raising from the depths.
The stream, flecked with little white waves and quiet inviting pools, while just around the bend there is the sound of the thundering water echoing off the chasm walls and the sight of a churning cascade, what naturalist John Craighead called, "A primeval summons to primordial values."
I have paddled upstream here before, even portaged through shallow rapids to the river's slow-moving pools. On this trip, however, the lake covers those rapids and the low water landmarks I'm familiar with going to north past Pilot Creek. At Oregon Bar Rapids, there is no need to go any further on this outing, as the rushing water turns me back downstream. Above Pilot Creek, I found a nice flat rock and water warmed by the sun. I beached my kayak and surveyed my river surroundings. Upriver, I could see the foam of whitewater while down downstream the rugged curve of the canyon suffused amber light of the late afternoon sun. I spent a good chunk of time there becoming a kid again. Diving off rocks, swimming between dives, and exploring the view of the canyon. Light and shadows dance across the water as the sun slips behind the horizon on my paddle back to Rattlesnake Bar. The hills and tree's obscurity are offset by the warm glow of the water. My senses are awakened by the stillness and coolness of the air as I glided silently and almost effortlessly across the placid lake of golden glass.
"We do not want merely to see beauty, " said writer C.S. Lewis, "We want something else which can hardly be put into words to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it."
And with each stroke of my paddle, I soaked in all the lake's and river's tranquil magic.
This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max on September 29, 2017
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The first river you paddle runs through the rest of your life. It bubbles up in pools and eddies to remind you who you are. — Lynn Culbreath Noel
I have started off my paddling year on Lake Natoma many times in the past several years. Most recently, with the faith-based group Bayside Adventure Sports for this past weekend's annual Polar Bear Paddle. It was our sixth annual, it what has become a New Year's Day tradition. It makes sense that Lake Natoma would kick off my so-called paddling calendar year. Located just blocks away from home, it is an easy jump to the lake. As part of California's state park system, the lake has become more and more popular as the post-Covid pandemic paddling crazes continue to draw more folks to the water. No doubt about it Lake Natoma is a paddler's favorite, with its nearly five miles of easy flat water nestled between Folsom Reservoir and Nimbus Dam, before flowing once again as American River toward its confluence with the Sacramento River some 20 miles away through the heart of the Sacramento urban area. The lake has three access points. One at each end of the lake and one in the middle. On hot summer days, the accesses are oftentimes crowded with folks trying to escape the heat, but in January, they're left to only a few hardy ones.
Yep, I have started off my paddling calendar year here many times before, always shirking off the idea, it's just too cold to paddle in the winter. Come on, folks! I tell them we live in California, where winter is only in the mountains. Back in my Minnesota paddling days, we locked our boats away dreaming of the day the ice would crack. I couldn't even consider taking a boat out, since all the rivers and lakes were frozen over. There I had to wait till spring. Which in January was a long way away. I had been living in North Dakota a long time and never dreamed of paddling my newly discovered outlet in the winter. As canoe legend Bill Mason, said about those incurably hooked on paddling in the Northern tier, "You must also face the fact that every fall about freeze-up time you go through a withdrawal period as you watch the lakes and rivers icing over one by one. Cross-country skiing and snowshoeing can help a little to ease the pain, but they won’t guarantee a complete cure."
In 2013, I was in a long-distance relationship with Debbie, who, along with her beautiful brown eyes and smile, kept tempting me to come to visit California with pictures of the American River and Lake Natoma. She knew my weakness. How could I turn down such an offer in the middle of North Dakota winter? In her quest to ensure I would have an enjoyable time; she scheduled several trips and activities. Two Sacramento Kings basketball games, a trip to Coloma to see the South Fork, and a drive up to Lake Tahoe. But before we could do any of that, we had to paddle on Lake Natoma. Like tourists, we rented a tandem sit on top from Sacramento Aquatic Center on a chilly morning and set off across the lake.
"The water is clear and flat," I wrote in my paddling journal, "We're right above the dam over the American River. We have the lake pretty much to ourselves. Debbie sits in the back to steer. I told her the guy in front is the power as we move across the lake with ease."
We went on to discover the sloughs and back ponds that I still enjoy visiting today on the lake.
Since moving to California, I have paddled across Lake Natoma, now more times than I can count with groups, classes, solo, and countless more times with Debbie. So, as I kick off my paddling year, I remember a quote by suspense novelist Karen Katchur, "The water. The lake. It flows through our veins, and there’s nothing we can do about it… It’s like venom.”
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 Keep up with Outside Adventure to the Max, on our Facebook page and Instagram and now on Youtube.
And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne.
The old Scottish song 'Auld Lang Syne' will usher in the new year again, as it sang all over the world at the stroke of twelve on New Year's Eve. The phrase Auld Lang Syne translated means, for old times' sake. The song evokes the spirit of friendship over the past year and raises hopes for a brighter future in the new year. Let's hope so. I do not have to tell anyone, but 2021 was pretty rough for many. The Covid-19 pandemic continues to linger. The highly contagious Omicron variant is only making it worse, as the average number of daily US Covid-19 cases are reaching new pandemic highs during the holidays. Dr. Anthony Fauci suggests that people opt for smaller gatherings with vaccinated and boosted family and friends rather than attending large-scale New Year’s Eve celebrations. For some of us, we will be outside enjoying an end-of-year kayak tour on the lake or kicking off the year in style on a Polar Bear paddling event. Just obey the same rules as last year. Socially distances, wear a max and stay safe.
After a year of extreme drought that triggered water shortages and stoked wildfires, rain and heavy snows are falling over Northern California. This past week nearly 17 feet of snow has fallen over the Lake Tahoe area breaking decades-old records as the snowiest December on record. Roads were closed, ski resorts were shut down, and avalanche warnings were issued as the Tahoe Basin was buried in much-needed snow. And what a difference a few storms make! After more than a year of being well-below average, water levels at Folsom Lake are filling up at a rate of enough water to fill 400 backyard swimming pools every minute. That's a lot of water. So much so, that even though the reservoir is just above half-filled, the Bureau of Reclamation is releasing water from it. Dam officials say that with more storms are coming the water level is near the maximum allowed at this time of year for flood protection. The water is flowing through Nimbus Dam and downstream. The releases will raise river levels on the American River Parkway. While the release will have a minor impact, people venturing out onto the river should beware.
As 2021 now comes to an end, it's time to look back at all our paddling memories and leap forward in planning new adventures. And as the rain hits my window, I'll take that as a good sign we might have more water this year than last. At least, that is my hope. One of the side effects of the pandemic has been the explosion of participants in paddling sports. The numbers have swelled as people have flocked to the waterways to escape the constraints of the global coronavirus pandemic. From us old veterans, we say welcome. The paddling community is here for you. We will look forward to helping you and inspiring you as you continue paddling the rivers and lakes.
Paddle Day #107 I paddled not even close to my record of 152 paddling days in the calendar year. But I did get to some new places and enjoyed some of the old ones. 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, I'm looking forward to leaving 2021 behind while eagerly anticipating an exciting new year in 2022.
And here's a hand my trusty friend
That gives a hand to thine
We'll take a cup of kindness yet
For auld lang syne
Happy New Year
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