WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

“Let the wild rumpus start!” --- Maurice Sendak

After living in mostly an urban setting for most of my life, my wife Debbie and I moved to a country setting on the outskirts of Placerville, California, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. At the end of the lane, our new home sits on a ridge overlooking the valley below. Our view is amazing! Looking eastward, we enjoy the sunrise every day through our windows and can watch the full moon as it rises over the trees.
In our front yard, Debbie has spent the summer season cutting, clipping, and trimming back the overgrowth of bushes and trees. She constructed a cactus garden and is looking forward to planting a new garden next year.
Behind our home is a tree line filled with California buckeyes, an assortment of oaks, and pines. It is also where the wild things are.
 

The herd of black-tailed deer foraging along the hillside has been a common sight since moving here. Our local population, with their distinctive black tails, wanders about the property in the early mornings and evenings. Shy at first, they seemed to have gotten used to us.
In hopes of them not eating her plants, Debbie has planted deer-resistant plants and offers them squirrel food, of course, which makes the neighborhood grey squirrel population happy also.
The does and their fawns have been roaming through the yard on their spindly legs most of the summer. They have tried with limited success to eat from the bird feeder.
While as of late, even the bucks with their velvet-covered antlers have joined in.

A bushy gray fox and a long black-tailed jackrabbit have routinely welcomed me home as I have driven up the lane. Debbie admired both the tail of the fox and the ears of the rabbit. Commenting that both seem much bigger than any other parts of their bodies. Shyer than the deer, they are gone in a flash.

The pleasant surprise is the covey of California quail that are seen around our home.
The stately male with his distinguishing head plume acts as the lookout while the hens and their tiny babies scurry about pecking the ground.
And there are a lot of them. A single quail’s nest sometimes has as many as 28 eggs meaning all the adult birds care for and protect all the chicks.
Even smaller are the hummingbirds buzzing about our front porch feeder. The little birds are definitely entertaining with their aerial acrobatics.

The excitement came early in the summer when Debbie spotted a rather large black bear rattling through the trees and brush near the house. While it was concerning to have a 380 lbs. bear in the yard. It was humorous to hear my wife talk to it like it was the neighbor's lost pet.
"Go away minster bear," she said from the safety of the bedroom window, "There is nothing for you here. So, you better move along."
Which it did. But it still reminded us to secure our trash cans during the night.

Naturalist John Muir wrote, “Any glimpse into the life of an animal quickens our own and makes it so much the larger and better in every way.”

As Thanksgiving approaches, I wanted to take a moment to ponder how thankful I am for the wildlife. It is hard to for me put into words how grateful I am for wildlife and wild places.
As a human being living in cohabitation with animals and plants, I realize how important it is for all of us to protect nature and show compassion towards all wild things.

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NOVEMBER PANORAMA

“The river this November afternoon

Rests in an equipoise of sun and cloud:

A glooming light, a gleaming darkness shroud

Its passage. All seems tranquil, all-in tune.” --- Cecil Day-Lewis

Sitting back, enjoying a cup of hot coffee while watching the birds fly over my stack of kayaks to the bird feeder. The skies have cleared after much of a week of stormy weather. Rain fell throughout the early part of the week while the foothills got blanketed with snow at higher elevations, with the bulk hitting the Sierra Nevada mountains. 

So far, so good. The recent storms certainly dampened the threat of wildfires, but for ending the long-enduring drought here in California. It's still much too early to tell. Weather forecasters say that these November storms are starting when we usually expect them, but it's still really early in the year to see what may happen.

I'm thinking I should be loading up one of those kayaks and taking it to a nearby lake. That is the best part about living here in California. Unlike when I was living in the mid-west, my kayaking season doesn't end when the rain strips the trees of their leaves and the snow falls. Sure, there are days when the weather is a bit uncomfortable, but there are still days ahead of paddling in just shirtsleeves that can't be squandered. However, losing an hour at the end of the day always surprises me when we flip back to an hour to standard time. Great if you are an earlier riser in this light switch from evening to morning. But I'm not ready for the darkness, as the sun seems to slam into the horizon before my eyes. Exploding into little bits before disappearing into the night.

Still paddling in November is an anomaly for many. The cool temperatures seem to outweigh the beautiful fall colors and golden light from the autumn sun. In my recent trips to Lake Natoma and Folsom Lake, they have been virtually abandoned by the summertime crowds, leaving an empty view of the glistening water. The refreshing clear and crisp autumnal air and uncrowded shores make me wonder why November paddling doesn't get its homage and due.

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HAUNTED RIVERS

“The eeriness of this lonely island, set among a million willows, swept by a hurricane, and surrounded by hurrying deep waters, touched us both, I fancy. Untrodden by man, almost unknown to man, it lay there beneath the moon, remote from human influence, on the frontier of another world, an alien world, a world tenanted by willows only and the souls of willows. And we, in our rashness, had dared to invade it, even to make use of it!” --- Algernon Blackwood

It's only in the daylight we see rivers with wonder and magic. Our favorites can often offer us serenity or endless thrills. Who of us doesn't look to see around each bend in a wild river, leading us to either the rumble of rapids or floating lazily in the sun.

We take ease near the stream in the light of day, where our imaginations and our innermost fears are not exploited by the sun.
Yet, it's in the night, when those comforting rivers can turn foreboding. With each whisper of sound or shadow in the moonlight, our perceptions of uncertainty, dread, and fear can bewitch us.
In Algernon Blackwood's The Willows, a novella about an adventurous canoe trip down the River Danube, it's only the night that the voyage turns frightful when mysterious forces emerge from within the forest creating spine-chilling sounds and bizarre shadows.
"I felt of dread was no ordinary ghostly fear," the narrator tells us, "It was infinitely greater, stranger, and seemed to arise from some dim ancestral sense of terror more profoundly disturbing than anything I had known or dreamed of. We had “strayed,” as the Swede put it, into some region or some set of conditions where the risks were great, yet unintelligible to us; where the frontiers of some unknown world lay close about us."
So. what's out there enshrouded in or along the watery brink? Is it a ghostly presence from the past? A spirit wandering lost, or a phantom bent on destruction.
Or is it just a concoction of some old scary tales meant to make us cringe and look over our shoulders in apprehension on a cool October night? What do you believe?
So, whether you're daring or doubtful here are a few of our nation's haunted rivers you might want to visit (if got the nerve), this Halloween or anytime, for your opportunity to see a ghost.

Pocantico River, New York

 Pocantico River

The Pocantico River in western New York was made famous by Washington Irving's Halloween classic The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Ever since people have been keeping a keen out for the Headless Horseman. Who, as the story said, would ride alongside the river looking for hapless victims.
The Pocantico is a nine-mile-long tributary of the Hudson River following an urban setting, But even today, it has a dark and unnerving nature. "The Pocantico winds its wizard stream among the mazes of its old Indian haunts, sometimes running darkly in pieces of woodland," wrote Irving.
He had obviously heard the tales surrounding the Old Dutch Church, Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, and Spook Rock to inspire his story of the Headless Horseman.
Spook Rock sits on the east­ern side of Rock­e­feller State Park, next to the Saw Mill River Park­way. Just its name conjures up ghosts. The his­tory of Tar­ry­town tells the leg­end of the Lady in White who haunts the rock after dying in a snow­storm. It's said you can still hear her cries of the howl­ing of the wind and see her ges­tures to warn of impending winter storms.
It also tells of the ghost of a colo­nial girl, who jumped to her death there to escape a Tory raider dur­ing the rev­o­lu­tion. As well as the heartbreaking tale of Star Girl the spirit of an In­dian girl who roams the area lament­ing the death of her lover and son.
It is said that even to­day, on a quiet spring night, one can stand on the banks of the Pocan­tico River and still hear Star Girl cry­ing out for her lover and child.

Blackwater River, Florida
   

Blackwater River 

The Blackwater River is considered a favorite spot for canoeing, kayaking, and camping in Florida's panhandle. Streaming through undeveloped lands by paddling the river is, said to be like going through beautiful tropical rainforest. But beware, for the Blackwater has two mysterious and sinister residents in its mist.
Locals will warn you to be careful when taking a dip. They say that there's a deathly pale-looking woman with long jet-black hair smelling of rotting flesh who will drag you under the water, attempting to drown you in the river. So far, only a lucky few have escaped her vile clutches.
While in Blackwater River State Park, a woman wearing a long white gown covered with blood is said to appear near the oldest white Atlantic cedar tree in the park. Legend says she was sacrificed there in a bloody ritual.
Rumors now say that people who visit the spot experience chills and have the feeling of being suffocated as a result of all the sacrificial rituals that took place there.
And one final warning. If you do see this ghostly woman is white, don't look in her eyes and runway. Otherwise, you could be next.

Tombigbee River, Alabama
  

Tombigbee River

Tales of ghost ships and phantom vessels are common folklore along both coast and the Great Lakes. Fleeting images of ships disappearing into the fog have been reported by sailors and beachcombers alike.
Over the years, witnesses have reported seeing “The Phantom Steamboat of the Tombigbee” fully engulfed in flames along the shore of Alabama's Tombigbee River near Pennington, Alabama.
Side-wheeled paddle steamer Eliza Battle was the most luxurious riverboat on the river until disaster claimed her on a cold winter night.
On March 1, 1858, she was fully loaded with more than 1,200 bales of cotton and carrying 101 passengers and crew when a fire broke out on the main deck. Panic ensued as the blaze spread over the boat. Passengers, mostly in their nightclothes, could only escape the flames by leaping into the icy river waters.
In the end, the ship sank, leaving somewhere between 26 to 33 people dead due to mostly exposure to the freezing water.
Soon after the disaster, ghost stories began to circulate. Witnesses claimed to see the ill-fated “Eliza Battle" ablaze again near where she sank, accompanied by screams of people begging to be rescued. The sightings of the burning steamers are to happen mostly on cold and windy nights. 

Mississippi River, Missouri & Illinois

 

Tower Rock

From its source up in Minnesota down to the Gulf of Mexico, the Mississippi River is brimming with bigger-than-life stories and legends and of course, ghostly yarns.
And nowhere is the river more haunted than Grand Tower, Illinois, to Cape Girardeau, Missouri.
According to the local folklore, the paranormal activity likely stems from the two massive boat accidents and one spooky reunion at Tower Rock.
On an October night in 1869, the steamship Stonewall was traveling on the river when it caught fire in what would become one of the worst disasters on the river.
It's estimated that the death toll was somewhere between 200 to 300. But nobody knows for sure because the passenger list was burned up with the steamboat.
Witnesses reported watching The Stonewall burn for nearly two hours before sinking into the river on that eerily dark and quiet.
Seventeen years later on another October night, the steamboat Mascotte's boiler exploded, engulfing that ship in a fire. Eyewitnesses said as the fire raged, the ship's smokestack fell over the gangplank, trapping passengers attempting to escape. All in all, the river disaster claimed 35 lives.
Psychics say the spirits of the dead in these disasters remain to this day. They have told of seeing the ghosts of these tragic ship fires making lonely pilgrimages back to the water from the local cemetery and of seeing unearthly hands and fingers reaching out of the dark river water.
It's also not uncommon for barge captains and crews to observe unexplainable lights bouncing across the water and hear ghostly screams and cries for help while passing through the spooky stretch of river.
The nearby Tower Rock offers even more supernatural lore for the Big Muddy. The 60-foot rock formation has been a silent sentinel along the river throughout its history. Boatmen would celebrate passing by it with a drink of good cheer. River pirates used it as an ambush spot, and Meriwether Lewis of the Lewis & Clark would write about its peril: “strong currents thus meeting each other form an immense and dangerous whirlpool which no boat dare approach in that state of the water…”
But the spookiest story of the rock happened in 1839 when an entire wedding party's boat got caught in a giant whirlpool and sucked under the muddy waters. Only one slave survived.
On that very day, a baby niece to the groom was born and given the same name as the bride. And twenty years later, to celebrate her birthday, she holds a party upon Tower Rock.
And as the story goes, the gathering was suddenly astonished when members of the wedding party arose out of the Mississippi River and presented her with a mysterious parchment scroll forewarning her of the Civil War. After delivering the prophetic message, the entire ghostly group, once again disappeared into the murky waters of the river.

Missouri River, Nebraska
  

              Blackbird Hill by Karl Bodmer

Blackbird Hill is a distinctive 300-foot-high landmark on the west side of the Missouri River in northeastern Nebraska. It was well-known to river travelers throughout the 19th century. In 1804, Lewis and Clark climbed the rise to visit the grave of an Omaha chief, while famed frontier artists George Catlin and Karl Bodmer painted it in the 1830s. Traditional Native American accounts say that Chief Big Elk is buried at the site. It is also said to be haunted by the spirit of a young woman who was murdered on the hill more than a century and a half ago.
According to local folklore, a young couple fell in love and agreed to marry. But first, the boy had to make his fortune, promising her he would return for her. But after years of waiting, the young girl finally gave up, thinking her husband-to-be was dead. She married another man and settled atop Blackbird Hill.
As the story goes, it was years later when the former lovers were once again reunited, when the young man came looking for her on the banks of the Missouri River. Overjoyed to see him, she confessed that she had never stopped loving him and only married another because she thought he was dead. Surely, it was fate that brought the long-lost lovers back together. She told him that she would go home to tell her husband that she wanted out of their marriage, so they could leave together in the morning.
When the girl returned to the cabin, she explained the situation to her husband, saying she did not love him and intended to leave him to marry her first love. At first, the husband begged her to stay. But when she refused, he went into a bitter rage and attacked her with his hunting knife. Mortally wounding her and with nothing to live for, he carried her to the cliff of the hill overlooking the river and leaped with her into the river far below. The woman’s death scream pierced the air until it was silenced by the muddy waters of the Missouri River. The young lover witnessed the couple tumble and drowned in the river, and he also became a victim as he later died of a broken heart.
A century and a half later, the river no longer touches the base of the hill Blackbird Hill, but the young woman’s restless soul remains. According to the legend, on October 17th, the anniversary of the murder-suicide, the woman’s chilling screams can be heard at the top of the hill. Over the years, dozens of people reportedly have heard her cries of terror.

So, what do you believe? Are these just good old-fashion ghost stories passed down over the years?
Or are there really haunting spirits out there at the edge of the water?
Whatever you believe, these tales have intertwined with the history and folklore of these waterways. They have captured our imaginations and can provide us, that is if you’re feeling especially brave, a spooky adventure where you can go see for yourself. But only if you dare.

Happy Halloween

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OVER THE BOW: DONNER LAKE

We were in the shadow of the mountains; the light was cool and quiet, and no wind was stirring. The aspen trunks were slightly greenish, and the leaves were a vibrant yellow --- Ansel Adams

Sitting at just under 6,000 feet in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Donner Lake offers an array of breathtaking panoramic views of craggy peaks, charming chalets, and the lake's clear blue water. Located 11 miles Northwest of its big sister Lake Tahoe near Truckee, California, it is the area's history that captivates us. The harrowing tale of the Donner Party being stranded there in the winter of 1846-1847 is one of the greatest tragedies in the history of westward migration. While the Chinese laborers who toiled to build the transcontinental railroad over the mountains with picks and shovels can only be considered a triumph.  

 

It's Autumn, and the tourists of summertime have headed back home. While others wait for the snow to come so that they can return to the slopes. The lake was quiet and still felt like summer. A few swimmers were even venturing into its waters, and I led a kayaking group out onto it. California can't compete with whole forests of trees changing colors like in New England. The only hint that it was fall was a few stands of stunning, brightly colored aspens reflecting off the lake. 

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

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GLOW PADDLE 2022 & VIDEO

The sixth annual Glow Paddle once again lit up the waters of Lake Natoma last weekend. It was not ordinary kayaking or paddle boarding experience as well over 30 watercrafts, decorated with a myriad of colorful lights and glowsticks, paddled along the lakeshore at dusk and then in the dark.

The premise of the event was simple. Participants brought their own kayaks, stand-up paddleboards, boats, or inflatables to Lake Natoma's Black Miners Bar within Folsom Lake State Recreation Area and lit them up like Christmas trees. The glowing fleet then launched onto the lake and waited for the sunset to light up the night.

Experiencing nature and the lake in the dark was only enhanced by the nearly full moon as lit-up paddlers journeyed up to Folsom Rainbow Bridge on still waters. It was a truly magical sight to see all the boats on the water.  

A traditional informal event, the Glow Paddle was made up of several paddling groups and was a fun and free activity.

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KAYAK SUMMER 2022

It is the glistening autumnal side of summer. I feel a cool vein in the breeze, which braces my thought, and I pass with pleasure over sheltered and sunny portions of the sand where the summer's heat is undiminished, and I realize what a friend I am losing. --- Henry David Thoreau

We were lying on a white granite beach on a high Serria lakeshore staring up into the cosmos. Campfires were prohibited, and rightly so. So, the stars blazing in the sky were our only source of light since the full moon had leaped over the peaks of the mountains just yet. We were waiting for meteors to streak across the sky when someone mentioned Elan Musk's Starlink. It's a satellite internet constellation operated by SpaceX, providing satellite Internet access coverage to 40 countries around the world. Starlink now boasts well over 2,000 functional satellites orbiting overhead.

Sly Park Paddle Rentals 

Moments later, the strange moving chain of bright dots resembling a brilliant caravan of lights traveled from west to east across the sky. I tried to count the number of the bright lights but quickly lost count as they moved in succession across the sky. Lasting a few minutes, it was like a freight train rolling by and heading off to some faraway place. And then it was gone. The progression of satellites was a quick and stunning display. And then disappeared into the sky.

My summer was like that too. It's a very fast succession of days that dwindles at the dawn of autumn. Now once again, I'm saying goodbye to my well-spent summer days.

When my wife, Debbie, and I moved from Fair Oaks to Placerville, California, last May, it brought me much closer to the proximity of Sly Park and the South Fork of the American River.
Sly Park and Lake Jenkinson were a given since I was once again working the boathouse for Sly Park Paddle Rentals for my fifth year in a row. My weekends were filled with a steady dose of canoeing, kayaking, and swimming. And to think I'm lucky enough to be getting paid for it.
On the South Fork, on the other hand, I only got to cross the Highway 94 bridge. Like a lot of paddlers, I look over the bridge while driving over it to check out the current and see if I see any boats or anyone I know. And wish I was there. It didn't matter if the flow was high or low. I wanted to go. The South Fork whitewater will have to wait a while longer.

GAT training with Current Adventures 

They had been waiting for a long-time to be racing on the Lower American River. After a Covid-related shutdown for the past two summers, the Great American Triathlon race and our training resumed with Current Adventures. Dan Crandall and I showed the racers for the racers the best lines for the kayaking section run down the American River through San Juan Rapids. Win or just participate, our paddlers rocked their evening training sessions. By all reports, they rocked it on race day.

My summers wouldn't be summer without our Annual trips to Loon Lake and down the Sacramento River with Bayside Adventure Sports. Our jewel is Loon Lake on the east side of the Sierra Nevada. A scenic vista along the entire lake. It has picturesque mountain views and splendid emerald color waters surrounded by white granite boulders, laced with Sierra junipers growing on tops and ridges and in the splits between the glacier pavements of granite. My paddling partner john Taylor and I spent the whole week there leading two different groups during August. Our paddlers never know how valuable these quiet places are until they paddled into them for a few days.

 

Loon Lake with Bayside Adventure Sports

Our Sacramento River weekend trip near Red Bluff, California, finished my summer season just last weekend. The highlight was seeing Lassen Peak, one of the largest domed volcanoes in the world, as a backdrop for our fast river run.

Sandwiched in between, I paddled throughout the summer, trying to squeeze every drop out of our summer I could.

 

Lake Jenkinson & The Boathouse

"Suddenly, I experienced the feeling of longing, longing for the canyon. It was almost as if we left something back there." Recalled adventure paddler Andrzej Pietowski when describing the fleeting moments of looking back into Peru's Colca Canyon, the deepest on earth, after making its first descent down it, "Something viable, breathing, some small but living part of ourselves. The longing has remained with me ever since."
Summer 2022 is over. It's time to officially remember what day of the week it is. I do look back, longing for more of it. I feel like I left part of myself behind. I feel like I left something out.
And now, as we hurtle ourselves toward another autumn, I reflect on that high Sierra beach watching Starlink satellites trek across. Just like them, summer might be gone, but memories still flicker.

Here is a look at some of my favorite images from this past summer.

The Sacramento River with Bayside Adventure Sports 

Lake Natoma 

The Lower American River 

Shore dinner at Loon Lake 

GAT training on Lower American River 

Lake Jenkinson

The Lower American River 

Lake Jenkinson 

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BOATHOUSE DAYS, MY FIFTH SUMMER ON LAKE JENKINSON PART II

Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability --- Sam Keen

Summertime and the livin' is easy," the popular George Gershwin song goes. On Lake Jenkinson at Sly Park Paddle Rentals, it definitely had that feeling when the blue skies and sunshine greeted me on the weekend mornings. The rains of June are soggy memory now through the end of August. It would be only sun-splashed days at the boathouse.

After 5 years, I've got my routine down, opening up my little boathouse. Make a list of reservations at home, grab the park radio at the front gate, and drive the 3 miles meandering through the park to Stonebreaker Boat Launch.
Once there, I would resemble a pack mule carrying a weekend supply of ice, food, and water down the long path to the boathouse. 

After a gulp of coffee, I would pull the stacked paddle boards out of the boathouse and line them up on the dock. Then knock a few kayaks off the dock into the water and stage an arm full of PFDS nearby.
Almost there. Next, I set up my flag and throw up my open sign that I'm ready for business.
If I was early, and usually was, I would save the flag and sign for later and enjoy a quick wake-up swim in the lake followed by breakfast with a cup of coffee.
"Morning simply isn't morning without a cup of coffee, but not just any cup will do," wrote canoeist and writer Jerry Dennis, "I want it black and strong enough to kick-start me into wakefulness."

If a Saturday or Sunday, y crew of high school kids, Walden and Noelle, jump into action outfitting the novices with PFDs and paddles.
Tandems and SUPs are the crafts of choice on these hot summer days. Canoes are still very popular for families with small children. Want to paddle on your own? Check out a single kayak.
While anyone can walk up and get a boat, reservations are encouraged. Since they have already paid for the rental and filled out the waiver, they are in the express lane to the water.

  

     
Friday, July 8...Busy start to my day. Dan and I had Great American Triathlon Training last night. We did the whole course. Afterward, I had to bring some boats up to Sly with me because our paddlers wanted to try them out on the lake. I suggested they come up to Sly Park. So, here I am, unloading two sit-inside kayaks. I dropped them off at the boat ramp and floated them over, thinking that the way winds work, they would be pushed over the rest of the way to the boathouse. It didn't happen, and I ended up swimming them over the rest of the way.
The water is very swimmable now. It's clear and refreshing. When I jumped in, there, of course, was a little shock of cold, but it quickly subsided as I swam toward the boats.
Last month I would have paddled them over but being so warm out, it's the only way to go.
All is well for Friday. I brought a good lunch and even dropped off some cookies at the front gate for the staff. Just a random act of kindness. It made his day. He was really hungry. 

Saturday, July 9...By far one of our busiest days of the season. It was a tandem day as every one of them went out. Some even went twice and three times.

The weather was perfect, with light winds and clear blue skies.
The only drawback was the lake was dropping. Our gangplank was even with the last cement block of our sidewalk. It won't be long till it's dirt.
The night before, I took a paddle and hike up to the falls just to see them flowing. I haven't been able to paddle to the bridge for a few years now. I have to remind myself over and over again of what it used to look like with water. Each year I say, hopefully, next season, we will have more water.
I'm so grateful that this view of Middle Earth did not burn up in last year's fire. It was so so close.
Sunday, July 10...We have a few reservations. But most of them haven't shown up yet. Some folks are like that. They'll rush to get here and run behind. When they get here. I tell them to take it slow and relax, you're at the lake now. 

“Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn,
 J.K. Rowling

We had a few days in the middle of July that was more than a little upsetting for me. Our boathouse and dock are an easy target for someone when it is unattended. Even with the gate securely locked, I've found muddy footprints, beer cans, and tangled fishing lines left behind on the dock. And while usually, the park brings in some great patrons, we did end up with the door kicked in this year, some boats taken on a joy ride, and on another night had a paddle board stolen off the deck. I would try to keep a look out for it for the rest of the summer.

In the meantime, it was always a great way to start the day with either; a quick swim, a canoe ride, or both before opening up. And at the end of the day, I would always paddle my kayak. Sometimes I would stay in the comfort of the upper lake by paddling up the creek or across the way from the boathouse to the wind-protected bay, while other times, I would head out across the big lake and round the island on the far west end. When there is enough water, it is two islands, but with the lake dropping every week, it has become one large one. It can be pretty bumping out there as I crash through the waves of motorboats. But the setting sun always makes the water glisten in gold. Coming through the narrows in the twilight, the water was very still and quiet.

 

 

I send all sorts of people away in boats. There are big people, small people, men, women, and kids. Some have paddled before, and some have never stepped into a canoe or kayak in their entire life. And yes, I think that is a little alarming when I think about it since I'm about to send them out onto the lake.
Good luck, I tell them. I hope you have fun. See you in an hour, and glad you signed the waiver.
My rescues are few. Most of the time, they come back safe sound, saying they had a great time. Sometimes they come back soaked to the skin, but they still say they had a great time.

 

Friday, July 15...Greeted today with a busted-in door and a missing kayak. What a way to disrupt my morning. 

Saturday, July 16...An eventful day yesterday with our door getting bashed in and a kayak pirated away. But we got it back, and the ranger came and fixed the door. The first one didn't work. Since I didn't want him to carry them up the hill, I stacked them on canoes and paddled them to Stonebreaker. 

Sunday, July 17...The start of another disappointing day as one of our SUPS was stolen last night. Thinking someone took it for a joy ride, I search and search along the lake shore early this morning with no luck.

Friday, July 22...A much better way to start the day at Sly Park. Quiet and uneventful. No break-ins, nothing stolen, just peace and quiet. 

After opening, I took a canoe out on the morning's breathless waters floating along, listening to the sounds of the forest. The swish of my paddle, the buzz of bugs, and the caw of crows.

Friday, July 29...SUP paddling is certainly all the rage right now. Here at the lake, I'm seeing more and more of them. Mostly inflatables, made with hard materials but easy to store and transport. They fit in the closet as well as in the trunk of a car. It's getting common to see folks pumping their SUPS up either by hand or with an electric pump either in the parking lot or right at the lake access, hooked up to a car battery. The sound of their electric pump's hums over the water. 

There are generally two types of paddlers for them. The first is there for a power paddle workout going from one end of the lake to another. The others are there as social paddlers more interested in rafting up in groups of 2 to 20, never leaving sight of the boat access.

Sunday, July 31...The lake is going down. It dropped, even more, this week. I had to start building a trail again.

Sunday, August 7...Quiet start to my day. The sign at the gate says the lake is 74% percent, but it seems to have dropped more overnight. The boathouse and dock keep sinking further and further into the lake. No telling what it will be in two weeks. But summers are like that now in the foothills.

Friday, August 19...Like always, the lake has dropped. Had to extend my little foot trail to the gangplank another six feet. Who knew that running a boathouse would involve trail building.

Not a cloud in the sky right now, and it's hot! I'm hoping for a breeze soon. It will be easy to cook my burritos by wrapping them in tin foil and laying them on the deck.

Later, I thought their tandem with two dogs was a little overloaded. They opted for a tandem boat. They had told me they rolled a canoe years before. Too bad they had the same result today. Not 100 yards from the boathouse. But I was quick to rescue everyone. I paddled out in a canoe telling everyone in a calm voice that they were all ok. I gathered up their dogs first. Then told the woman to swim toward shore while the gentleman needed a little help. I had him wrap his legs around the bow of the canoe and paddled him to shore. 

The rangers came, but it was all ok. We got everyone out of the water to shore. The PFDs worked like they were supposed to, giving us all a happy ending. I think they were both a bit embarrassed by all the fuss. But it all ends well.

It's a long goodbye to summer once the calendar rolls mid-August. The season that brought us warm nights, canoe camping adventures, and, of course, my great boathouse tan is quickly fading away.
While it's still scorching hot outside, the season is a time for folks to get back to normal. School is starting. There are games and activities to go to, and the trip to the lake is a summer vacation memory.

For the last few seasons, the path to the boathouse gets longer and longer as Lake Jenkinson shrinks and the boathouse and dock sink into the lake valley. The sidewalk leading to the dock dropped off sometime in July. Leaving me to continuously fashion a trail the rest of the way to the gangplank.

The lake was still a treasure for me. Morning swims, Paddleboard floats and ending every evening on the water with a kayaking experience taking out across the lake left.
At the boathouse, I found you have to be ready for anything, from a person forgetting their paddle at home, a canoe drifting away, or a boater's family being marooned on the other side of the lake, and another wildfire.

Sunday, August 21...The season is going fast now. School is starting, and folks are not thinking about coming to the lake. Yesterday was a busy day. Folks mostly wanted to rent SUPS.
I did have another boat rescue which is actually that. The boater could make it back from Stonebreaker access due to the fetch. So, I swam over and paddled it back.

 

Friday, August 26... It's the last weekend in August for paddling. We only have a few weekends left. But hey, last year, we had already been shut for a week due to the Caldor Fire and would never open again that season.
The lake looks great, considering what it looked like last year. It's at 69%, and the waterfall is still flowing into the lake. We'll take it.

Saturday, August 27...At close last night I paddled with Rob back to the main boat launch. He paddled with us at Current Adventures and raced during the Great American Triathlon. He often paddles here at Sly early mornings from one end of the lake to another and back. I met him on his return leg and paddled back with him.

Sunday, August 28... A sleepy start to the day. I did rescue a paddler who forgot his paddle.
Again, last night, I paddled to the other end of the lake. There was not a lot of boat traffic. It was nice not to battle their waves.
On the other hand, Stonebreaker has been busy this morning with the crew after crew unloading their SUPs and kayaks. A lot of folks with their own gear in this post-pandemic world.

 

Friday, September 2...It's going to be super-hot this weekend. Temperatures in the valley will be well over 100 degrees. It's even too warm up here. Escaping the heat is going to be a good plan for the day.
I dropped off a kayak and floated it over to the boathouse. Luckily, I still had to swim for it. It was the best part of my day.

Saturday, September 3... I did paddle up into what is left of Sly Park Creek yesterday. There is no backwater there anymore. Only a narrow bar of sediment about 6 feet tall between the stream and the lake. The upper end of the lake is dry indeed. 

Sunday, September 4...I started the day by giving her a canoe ride to Stonebreaker. She had rented kayaks for her kids and needed a ride to her kayak waiting for her. It was an easy trek, unlike last night when I had to paddle across and rescue a family.
I was just closing when a guy came up and said his boat had conked out and wouldn't start, and he couldn't get to his family on the other side of the lake. I called the rangers, but he said the boat patrol was off the water. So, I told him I would go get them in our canoes.
I lashed two canoes together and crossed the lake. I said, "I'm your Uber," once I reached the other side. They had lots of kids and lots of gear. I piled their cooler, tent, and kids into one canoe and tied on a water toy with two others on it. Then loaded the other boat with the other folks and told them to head to Stonebreaker.
We paddled across all the way laughing all the way. It was a great adventure for them all to be rescued by canoe. Dad was thankful and handed me a wad of wet cash. An unexpected way to end the day on the lake.

Monday, September 5...Labor Day. I can't believe the summer season is already over. It's not over in the temperature department. It's sizzling out there.

Friday, September 9...Well, I thought we would escape the fire season, but we didn't. Another one burns near Forest Hill. Last night my wife and I saw the smoke and glow of the fire from our Placerville home. It's too close for comfort.
I was greeted with heavy smokey skies this morning hanging over the lake. The park is quiet. The smoke will be keeping the folks away. It's too bad. It's great to paddle into the fall season, but not enough water and now smoke make it bad for business.

Saturday, September 10...Better day than before. Just a bit of haze on the lake. The sun was a glowing ball of orange rising over the lake. I have several reservations, but who knows who will show up.

Sunday, September 11...I'm seeing ash particles on the kayak seats, and I can't even see the trees across the lake. It's time to call it a day.

 

Saturday, September 17...Well, it's a wrap for the boathouse this season. I came to the lake to clean out the boathouse. Yesterday it was just too smokey. Today it's super windy, and tomorrow it is supposed to rain. So, we are calling it a season. 
I loaded all the kayak seats, PFDs, and paddles into a canoe and made four trips back and forth to Stonebreaker. Certainly, would have liked to end the summer on a high note. We will hope for better days to come.

The end of summertime is accompanied by a bit of sadness. However, this season has brought some great memories. I look back at those moments with gratitude. 

Thanks to Dan Crandall, the staff at The River Store, and all the rangers and park staff who helped us keep afloat during the season. Most of all, I'd like to thank our amazing customers for their patronage in making the long walk down the hill to our boathouse. 

We'll see you all next spring. 

If you want to go on a canoe or kayak trip at Sly Park contact:
Current Adventures Kayak School and Trips
PHONE: 530-333-9115 or Toll-Free: 888-452-9254
FAX: 530-333-1291
USPS: Current Adventures, P.O. Box 828, Lotus, CA 95651
info@currentadventures.com
owner Dan Crandall dan@kayaking.com
 

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