Kayak Day #118 & Beyond

God give me joy in the tasks that press, in the memories that burn and bless; In the thought that life has love to spend, in the faith that God's journey's end. ---Thomas Curtis Clark

The air was heavy, but not difficult, to breathe. A forest fire east of the lake had a created an eerie haze over the lake and cast a purple hue over the distant hills. Across the lake, the shore was a blurry collage of rocks, brush, trees, and water painted in gray. The lake and its dull shine showed no movement. I would feel guilty for interrupting its stillness with the bow of my kayak.

I had brought my pickup and kayak all the way down to the water at Doton's Point. As the lake continues being drawn down, the distance from the road to the water gets longer daily. It is a kayaking safari as soon as my tires leave the pavement and circle through the trees to the winding trail that leads to the beach. 

The day is a highlight for me. It was paddling day 118 for me this year. It is a personal record of the most days I have ever paddled in one year. As I slid my boat into the water and followed the curve of the lake, I felt a certain exuberance of achieving a personal goal and the satisfaction that my journey in continuing on. It's good to dream... And even better when I'm wide awake in them. 

Stand Out Paddling

 I've lost count of how many times I have passed under Folsom's prominent Rainbow Bridge. The bridge is a historic landmark of the area. Built in 1917, the bridge crosses over the upper end of Lake Natoma and the American River. A 208-foot long concrete arch spans the rocky ledges of the canyon to help give the bridge it's fabled name. Photographed and painted time and time again the bridge is truly a magnificent sight. 
I can remember last year when it loomed before me as I paddled up the lake. Before I had moved to California, I had only seen it in pictures. As I paddled under it, I felt a thrill in pushing against the current and past the silent monument. It was my welcome to Californian kayaking.

It is routine now.  Lake Natoma is my home lake. I have kayaked it so much and so often that I could probably name the geese. Like all home lakes,  I still find it beautiful and fun to paddle around. I enjoy the quietness of its sloughs and the loftiness of its high banks. I love that the water is just minutes from my home. But that's where I have taken the lake for granted. I'm used to visiting it day after day.

Great days fade into the next, when I'm out kayaking alone. Sure, I have soloing days that are special. But, the lasting and great memories come from paddling with my wife. I love to watch her glide across the water. As an artist, she delights in changing colors of sky and water while making paintings in her mind. She will frown and voice disgust when a loud radio vanquishes the peaceful solitude of the lake. This is her moment to enjoy what God has painted before her eyes.

I paddle behind trying to keep up, while she reveals to me the wonders of the water. This is the first place we kayaked together when I came to visit her before we were married. We had rented a bulky tandem sit on top and paddled together across the lake through the sloughs. It was a cool day and we had the lake to ourselves. We toured through the marsh enjoying the trees, birds and each others company. Now, every time I pass through those sloughs I remember that day. Every time. It will always be one of my best memories of the lake. 

 Debbie and I shared a sunset paddle the other day. Nothing exemplary, we are heading into fall and the sun is setting faster each night. We had to race back now before the sun slammed into the horizon. A fleeting golden reflection illuminated the water and silhouetted Debbie and her kayak. The rainbow bridge is close and beaming in the setting sun.

We will leave no lasting imprint. Water has no memory. However, sharing it with each other will always make each visit to the lake stand out.

River Song...An Interview with Jerry Vandiver

Kayaking and canoeing seems to be all about gear or location. There are magazine articles and internet posts about everything from what to wear, to where to go and how to paddle. There's great advice out there, but nothing will guide us back and remind us of that special time on the water more than music. However, I have never seen any tips on how to write good old fashion paddling songs. So, I asked singer/songwriter and fellow paddler Jerry Vandiver what it takes to compose an ode to the stream?
The Nashville-based Vandiver has brought his two passions together by creating a collection of paddling songs such as More Than A River, and True and Deep. A concert touring favorite with over 15 million records sold, Vandiver is never far from the lakes and rivers he loves to sing about. Last week, he offered me some inspiration on how to put a song in your next journey.
 

NC: Which is easier going down a Class V waterfall or writing a paddling song?
JV: It's funny in that I've been studying the craft of songwriting about as long as I've studied the craft of paddling.  And the passion for both endeavors is pretty darn equal. But considering that I've gotten myself in a lot of trouble on some hefty rapids, I'd have to go with writing the song as a bit easier.  I will say this, when you finish the run or finish the song, they both equal themselves in fun and a feeling of really accomplishing something.

NC: So then is writing a paddling song more like going up stream or going down river?

JV: Oh, definitely going down river.  You always have to go with the flow.  I have more often than not found that if you let the song take you where it wants to go, it will always come out better than if you fight it with some crazy upstream stroke.

NC: Did  "Dueling Banjos" and the phrase "Paddle faster. I think I hear banjos," add to the difficulty of writing a good paddle song?

JV: Actually, I think it is interesting that we associate music about paddling as being very acoustic in instrumentation, even sometimes to the point of straight out Bluegrass style as in "Dueling Banjos".  There's some spirit of kinship between natural acoustic instruments and the flow and excitement of the water and the great outdoors.  I can't imagine hearing synthesizers and squeaky backwards LPs when singing about paddling.  I'll take Dueling Banjos as inspiration anytime.

NC: How often are you tempted to work "Bootie Beer" into a song?

JV: Until now, I'd never thought of it!  But hmmmmmm.

NC: Okay... You got the start to a great paddling song, but you hit a rock towards the end and it is sinking. It's to late to scrap it.  How do you Duct Tape it back together? 

JV: Pull into the nearest shore, set up camp, brew some "Camp Coffee", watch the sun set and sleep on it.  That's part of going with the flow.  It'll come back and finish itself sometimes when you let it.

NC: Some of us have lost loves. An upset kayak leaves without saying goodbye or a canoe stolen away in the night.  Both never return. Any tips on how to work them into song without making our wives jealous?

JV: Well, if you're lucky the wife will be mourning with you - or at least send you a sympathy card.  But for those that have spouses that don't "get it",  you're only choice is to use the age old phrase, "she really meant nothing to me".  The wife won't believe it, but it might buy you a little more grieving time before you set out to spend the family budget on a new boat.

NC: Has a song just hit you while you are out paddling or do you need a special place like the BWCA?

JV: I've had these songs come at me just about everywhere.  Even walking our dogs down the neighborhood alley.  The important thing is to have those experience to tap into - floating a crystal clear Ozark stream, fighting a headwind in the north woods lakes, rafting a Colorado Canyon or kayaking through a Class III in Tennessee.  Those memories always stay with you and will find their way up with a melody if you let them.  Regardless of where you may be at the time.

NC: Does anything really rhyme with Boofin?

JV: How about "goofin" as in "goofin' off in a swimming hole"?

Find more information on Jerry Vandiver and his music at www.paddlesongs.com

Going Against the Flow.

Only dead fish go with the stream...

When I look back on my kayaking trips I rarely have had a shuttle waiting for me at the river's end, not that I wouldn't mind one. But, when you solo as much as I do, you learn to do without. It's convenient to park, unload and paddle-up stream as far as I can or that time permits.

Now I'm not paddling up the Colorado. I find gentle flowing rivers with a little gradient. I have learned to read their eddies and flows. When the river turns, it forms a bend. The strongest, deepest and fastest current will be found on the outside.  Toward the inside, the water moves at its slowest.
Staying to the river's inside is where the current provides the least resistance. I hug those soft lines on their insides. Back and forth, side to side, I paddle wherever I find the least current. Where the river flows the quickest, I feel a nudge. That is where the river is telling me, I'm going this way.

 Rivers are like that.  It doesn't care about your future. It has already been upstream and is now looking for an effortless path to the sea. If you want to tire yourself out going against the river's torrent, it might say, "That is your problem. I'm looking to be lazy. Paddle up far enough and I'll convince you to turn around. Why fight it? Just go with the flow."

Old guys fish and teenagers swing from ropes tied to trees limbs along the bank as I paddle near. It is leisure time for them. They study me as I endeavor against the so-called current,  like I was coming from another place in time. 
"Wouldn't it be easier going the other way?" one calls out.
 "It would be faster," I respond.

I can hear the slight roar of the rapids while paddling up. It is a negligible whooshing. It's around the bend. I know it is coming. On the Upper American River I find a few spots where I have to wade through the stream while pulling my kayak up past the rocks. It was here, I think, the early explorers pulled their crafts up river looking for the source. The rocks are slippery and rugged as I wade through ankle deep water. It brings out the frontiersman in me. I remember watching the old western where the heroes forded the streams. It is a short portage for me. Its only yards till I get to calmer and deeper waters.

Before long I get to a dam, another series of rapids or my body will have had enough. I then turn the bow into the current and feel the power of the water turn me around. This is my reward, but I'm too tired and out of breath to enjoy my triumph.

Personal Record One Hundred Paddling Days

I took part in the Sacramento Paddle Pusher's attempt to break the largest free-floating raft of canoes and kayaks on a single body of water this past weekend.  The world's record set August 31, 2013, in Michigan's Sutton Bay is a staggering 2,099 boats. Our local organizers were optimistic for a good turnout.  However, they were pretty sure from the start they wouldn't be breaking any world's record. It really wasn't the point of the event anyway. As stated in the Meet Up invite... It's something us local paddlers can do, look back one and say I was a part of the biggest group of paddlers out on Lake Natoma. It's all about having fun.
So when 47 of us paddled out under the Folsom Avenue Bridge for a group picture, it didn't matter that we were 2,953 paddlers short of the world record. We were making a vivid lasting memory of kayaking together. A personal account to say hey, I did it.
Personal records are like that too. Just the day before,  I had set another PR for myself by reaching 100 days of kayaking. There is something very special going over the century mark in all facets of sports from rushing yardage to one hundred victories. The triple-digit number is a mark of achievement.
I did it before in 2012. Winter came to end suddenly that year and I was kayaking on the Otter Tail River in March. I cruised to the most I ever paddle in a year with 117 days. It is still my personal record. If the Red River hadn't a frozen over before Thanksgiving,  I might have added a day to two.  Our personal records are like that. They drive us for more.
In a recent Rapid magazine profile, pro-kayaker Dane Jackson called his 270 days on the water in 2013, a slow year, disappointed by not reaching 300.  For those us like me and Jackson, we always long for just one more day on the water. A record to nobody but to ourselves.
In California now, my PR has taken on a Roger Maris like asterisk, by reaching 100 days in the middle of August instead of mid-September. This time around I didn't have to struggle with frozen and flooding Minnesota rivers and lakes. I got started January 1st, a full two and half months advantage over that 2012 season.  I took full advantage of pleasant weather and my proximity to Lake Natoma and lower American River to aid in my quest for getting to 100. It just seems unfair getting in a kayak day, while hearing that the rest of the country is enduring the polar vortex.
Still, a season is a season. I looked out over Folsom Lake on my hundredth day and paddled toward the foothills. I was a notable day for me and needed a memorable trip. I paddled up the south arm of the lake till I could go no further.  Where the South Fork flows into the lake, I watched the water rushing over the rocks wishing I could go a little farther. Still looking for more. I will just have to save that adventure for another paddling day.

Bridge Tripping

There is something about going under a bridge while paddling. It is a mark of progress. A reward for moving forward along the river. A place to start, turn around and finish. I can't remember how many times I thought to myself, to the bridge and back when out paddling.

Bridges are important to every paddler. I don't know anyone who can pass over a bridge either big or small without looking over the edge and checking the water level or swiftness in the current. My next thought usually is, I can't wait to paddle there. 

Going under bridges adds a special appeal to me. To see a world, that everyone is traveling to fast to see. A place in a shadow. The coolness eclipsing me while going under the bridge deck. It's a welcome escape from the hot sun. A place to sit in the shade and rest for a bit. 
Nature and industry intersect at these places. I will hear the rumble of the traffic above and see concrete or mental projections off to the sides and just under the surface of the water. In urban settings, I find bridges underneath's spray-painted with graffiti or littered with makeshift homeless campsites.
 
On the American River Parkway, I had paddled upstream and back from Discovery Park.  I started underneath the Jibboom Street Bridge. A swing bridge from days gone by that now enjoys light traffic in its park setting. Upstream, I paddled by two railroad bridges and a former railroad bridge, reserved for bikes and pedestrians. After passing the I-80 bridge, I turned back into the flow of the river.

All in all,  I passed under 7 bridges on that paddling day. Each one working as a landmark along the way. Each one giving me a distant horizon to paddle for. To the bridge and back.

Swift Water Rescue Clinic

"If your buddy doesn't have a throw bag, give him yours," said the River Store's Gigi McBee, "In case you need it."

That was good advice,  I thought looking out over the South Fork of the American River. The river was running fast.  Kayaks and rafts kept coming by, bouncing in the pillow of waves just upstream from Henningsen Lotus Park.  Smiles and fun were the order of the day.  But, rivers are like that. Your friend one day... Over your head and gasping for air the next.  It's good to be ready for whatever it dishes out.

I recently took part in the Swift Water Rescue Clinic for Novices conducted McBee. The clinic was set up to teach fundamental skills for kayak based rescues, rescue throw bag techniques (throwing & retrieving) and swimming self-rescues. The exercise was designed to improve our skills along with bolstering our awareness and confidence on the river.

The rescue/throw bag is an essential piece of safety equipment used to rescue a swimmer and in some cases,  help unpin trapped boats. There should be a minimum of one per kayak on any trip.  I got mine a few years back after capsizing in icy Otter Tail River and not having one. I ordered it the next day and now it comes on every trip. It is a little faded but still holds up well.

We were instructed to practice softball or sidearm style pitches, trying to get the float bag as far as we could into the stream. Soon bright float bags and yellow ropes crisscross the river like spaghetti.   When re-stuffing the bag we were advised to, coil the rope directly into the bag. Coiling it first and then putting it into the bag can cause a tangle that prevents the rope from smoothly flowing out of the bag when tossed.

Soon we were ready for practicing being both swimmer and rescuer.  First, swim across the river through rapids. After some pointers, our instructor dove in to demonstrate.  She took a couple of strokes, gracefully rolled on to her back in the boil and swam out to another side with ease. Two others followed before it was my turn.

There are two ways of swimming through a rapid. Swim defensively or offensively.  Swimming defensive involves floating downstream in a protected position, lying on my back, feet downstream, arms out to the side and with my body floating on the surface as possible. But, in order to get through the rapid and cross the eddy line, I adopt the offensive swimming technique. Swimming freestyle hard through the boils and whirlpool.

I dove into the current and was washed downstream quickly. The chilly water took my breath away as swam through the rapid to the eddy. I took a quick breath and oriented myself before continuing across.  Misjudging the speed of water  I was quickly being carried away from the group.
"Rope!" was called from shore.
A rescue bag was tossed out to me in a softball style pitch. I instinctive swam toward the lifeline and grabbed the line.  Clinging to it the rescuers will swing me toward the banks of the river. I'd was the first rescue of the day.

I would play both swimmer and rescuer several more times that afternoon.  As a rescuer, I quickly realized how the rope becomes very taut with the pull of swimmer on the end.  Pulling and swinging the swimmer to safety takes some muscle even done correctly using a climber's technique of belaying the rope across my back and hips while another rescuer can assisted me by grabbing the back my PFD and helping with the brace.

The skills taught that weekend was invaluable.  Always have a rescue bag handy, and practice using it.  Also, make sure the folks you boat with have them too. The life that gets saved could be yours.


The River Store offers a variety of clinics and workshops throughout the paddling season. For more information, visit them online at www.theriverstore.com