SLOUGH MAGIC

We need the tonic of wildness, to wade sometimes in marshes where the bittern and the meadow-hen lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground. – Henry David Thoreau

"Stay back," she whispered, "I want to take a picture." My wife Debbie likes all creatures great and small. It's like being married to a fairy tale princess the way all animals are drawn to her and her to them. Often while kayaking, she used her quiet voice reassuring the ducks, geese, and deer that they are safe and they need not be afraid while she passes by, while at the time warning me to give them a little more space as I draw near in my boat.

She paddles quietly ahead through the narrow section of water, while I stay back quietly watching. She inches forward, barely using her paddle and hoping not to scare off the duck sitting transfixed on a log coming out of the water. It doesn't move.

"You're alright.'' she says assures the waterfowl as she brings her camera phone to her eyes, "You're alright." It is the same for me. Everything is perfect.

"The shore is an ancient world, for as long as there has been an earth and sea there has been this place of the meeting of land and water," wrote Rachel Carson environmental activist who alerted the world to the impact of fertilizers and pesticides in the environment, best know for her book the Silent Spring, it is easy to picture her out gathering water samples in the old wooden canoe as she illustrates her passion for waterways when she said, "Yet it is a world that keeps alive the sense of continuing creation and of the relentless drive of life. Each time that I enter it, I gain some new awareness of its beauty and its deeper meanings, sensing that intricate fabric of life by which one creature is linked with another, and each with its surroundings."

Like for Carson, these waters are my sanctuary. I don't get much time to reflect, except out here.  These are quiet waters of tranquility that have been filtered through my life. On a fast-moving river or the ocean, I'm looking for eddy lines, currents, and tides, but in the calm of the backwater, I do some of my best thinking out there as I float along. These are the places that inspired Thoreau, Emerson, and Muir. Sometimes, I conjure up deep thoughts about God and the universe but mostly inner thoughts are simple ones as I paddle around the marsh. How are my children doing? Could I have handled that better at work? Should I buy another kayak?

"There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature," observed, Carson,  "The assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter. The lasting pleasures of contact with the natural world are not reserved for scientists but are available to anyone who will place himself under the influence of earth, sea, and sky and their amazing life."

I lose track of the time, I lose track of Debbie. She has gone out of sight into another cove. The water on Lake Natoma's depth is always fluctuating. Today, we caught it at a high level offering more slough coves to explore. The water imbibes a feeling of magic. It takes on an art form of textured richness that no photograph could convey.  The sky and pond flow in a collision of reflection. Time seems to slow and stand as still as the glassy water surface. In the sunlight, turtles lounge on rotting tree branches, while fish make sudden boils below my bow and the waterfowl stand like statues. Across the bow comes the fragrance spring flowers intertwined with the earthy scent of the lake's aquatic garden. Before long I find Debbie again in the watery maze. Our bows break the stillness of the water sending small ripples carrying dancing flecks of light back toward the shore and ahead of us the lake glistens.

"When I would recreate myself, " penned writer Henry David Thoreau "I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and the most interminable, and to the citizen, most dismal swamp. I enter the swamp as a sacred place–a sanctum sanctorum. There is the strength, the marrow of nature."

WATERFALL FALLOUT

CUMBERLAND FALLS

 When all the dangerous cliffs are fenced off, all the trees that might fall on people are cut down,all of the insects that bite are poisoned… and all of the grizzlies are dead because they are occasionally dangerous, the wilderness will not be made safe. Rather, the safety will have destroyed the wilderness.    R. Yorke Edwards

I listened to the reaction of the morning area television anchors watching the video that went viral last month of two professional kayakers plunging over 65-foot Cumberland Falls. As they broadcasted it to their viewers they used the words foolish, stupid and crazy to the describe the trip over the frigid falls in Kentucky. They ended the clip by telling their viewers that the two cited and fined a couple of hundred dollars for trespassing and that the two won't be attempting this stunt again anytime soon. Just the thought of going over any waterfall seemed inconceivable and little bit crazy to them. But, on social media, where we seem to look for amazing and wild exploits on a daily basis the video received more than a million views, and more than 22,000 shares.

"We did not expect it to get thousands of views or for people to be there watching," Nick Troutman, told WKYT-TV, "We were super intrigued by the falls. It was more just a personal goal we set. "
Brothers-in-laws and world champion freestyle kayakers, Dane Jackson and Troutman have years of experience on even rougher waters and have been down much bigger waterfalls. "We scouted the area and got our safety plan together," explained Troutman. Unfortunately, they missed that going over the falls was illegal.
"There are signs there saying no swimming, wading, or boating in that area," said Kentucky's State Parks Captain Dallas Luttrell to WKYT-TV, "It is extremely dangerous not only for those participating but also for the first responders who would have to go out there. For the main reason of safety, it is simply not allowed,."

The park ranger say those rules are in place for a reason and what is seen in the videos is strongly discouraged. "I would not encourage just anybody to go out and try it." agreed Troutman, "It does not work like that."

Extreme athlete and kayaker Tyler Bradt isn't just anybody. In 2010, his insane 189-foot free fall over Palouse Falls in Washington state shattered the world record for the tallest waterfall ever paddled. He told Men's Fitness how he survived his death-defying plunge. “When you hop in your boat at the top—that’s the scariest moment, up there on flat water getting ready to drop over a very big horizon." said Bradt, "Once you’re in the kayak and approaching the falls, keep one blade in the water to control the angle of your approach. When you’re paddling toward the lip of the waterfall, the key is to take a couple of strokes to get going just a little faster than the water around you before you drop.”

"You’re thinking, ‘Am I making the right decision? Is this a good idea? Bradt, continued, "The enormity of your situation is overwhelming, but it’s also the moment you need to react. That’s when I move into my tuck so I won’t land flat on my back or go upside down. When you land you want to be fully forward on the front of your deck with your paddle off to the side so it doesn’t come back and hit you.”
"It's a great adrenaline rush," blogged former member of the Canadian Freestyle Whitewater Kayak Team and Bronze medalist, Anna Levesque, she has paddled in some of the biggest water around the world and leads whitewater clinics in Central America. "The feeling of dropping off the edge can be thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Stay focused on your paddling not on your nerves."

The moment of glory comes when the kayaker sticks the landing. “The goal is to land with your boat vertical. You want to land feet down so that you’re penetrating the water surface with the least amount of impact." said Bradt, "My paddle snapped. It really dazed me. It’s an impact that I’ve never felt before—like a car crash."
Compare to that, Troutman's and Jackson's made their plunges look almost easy,  "I hit the line exactly how I had planned and couldn’t of been happier." Troutman later posted on Facebook.

 

After fulfilling their wild ride,  the two extreme athletes both agreed it's something they like to attempt again, only legally next time. "We did end up getting a fine from the park ranger, though he was good-mannered about the situation." posted Troutman,  "Hopefully we can apply for a permit or something because it truly is a really beautiful waterfall and we were honored to ride it." Dane Jackson agreed in his Facebook post, "Pretty stoked to have sent Cumberland Falls! Bummed that it ended in getting charged with trespassing, but it’s still an epic waterfall and one of my new favorites!”

OVER THE BOW: THE UPPER SOUTH FORK OF THE AMERICAN RIVER

PHOTO BY DYLAN NICHOLS

There is something about the rush of whitewater. The chaos, the churning and boil as the stream's thunder and roar echoes across a valley's chasm. It's a call of the wild few can resist. Naturalist John Craighead says, "The call is the thundering rumble of distant rapids, the intimate roar of white water. a primeval summons to primordial values." While writer John Daniel reflected the same sentiment when he wrote, "The stream sings, a subdued music, a scarcely audible lilt, faint and fluid syllables not quite said. It slips away into its future, where it already is and flows steadily forth from up the canyon, a fountain of rumors from regions known to it and not to me." Seeing that tiny trickle at the beginning, that was fresh snow only weeks before now building and turning into a sparkling river of rapids tumbling down through chutes and falls, pouring into pool after pool of effervescence.

For kayaker Pete DeLosa the call was deafening and couldn't be ignored especially after El Niño, a strong warm-water mass in the Pacific had pumped moisture and new life into the veins of the California water supply.
"Went from no water in California to everything being high! So great to see water returned to the South Fork." posted the Team Pyranha's Delosa on his Facebook page,  "There are several options farther upstream that have been getting a consistent flow. The roadside Kyburz section offers continuous Class IV rapids for several miles and just below that the Riverton to Peavine section has a semi-remote feeling with Class III and IV rapids."

This is one of California's top Class IV river runs, through the scenic beauty of El Dorado County east of Sacramento. Folks will only see flashes of the South Fork of the American River's tumbling white water while driving on along Highway 50. Most are hidden from highway view as the river drops into a deep canyon for the next 20 miles featuring a combination of dynamic rapids along the course. Brimming with new flows after some past years of low water due to drought, area kayakers are finding reasons to paddle and explore it again.

"A successful weekend of paddling at home." posted DeLosa, " I got a couple Kyburz runs in which I've been wanting for a while. It's great to have a few miles of roadside class IV so close to home. The highlight, however, was getting out on the river Saturday with a couple young paddlers and getting to take them on their first high water run at Chile Bar. Super exciting to see young chargers learning and getting after it."

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

THE RISE OF THE TIDE: THE RELIEF OF EL NINO

 

The rain has pounded against my window this week, leaving drops of water forming tiny rivers streaking across the glass pane. Each drop is deeper and wider than the last. The storms seem almost endless now after nearly five years of drought. The “Godzilla” El Niño which has formed in the western Pacific has sent one rain event after another into northern California much the delight of the kayaking and paddling community.

A parade of storms have continued to soak the Sacramento valley and pile up snow in the Sierra. Folsom Lake is rising so fast that,  the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation, which manages Folsom Dam, opened the floodgates for the first time since May 2012 allowing a huge waterfall to spill down the face of the dam. The releases are necessary to deal with the runoff from this past weekend's storm and another expected wet weather system in the forecast. Bureau official Shane Hunt told the Sacramento Bee,  that dam operators will continue to watch storm-waters flowing into the lake as the week progresses. “We’ll see how it plays out,” he said. “We may adjust up or down.”

Downstream from Folsom Dam and Nimbus Dam, the Sacramento police helicopter warned campers along the American River Parkway to consider moving to higher ground. Sacramento County officials were considering closing some parkway access points because of flooding concerns.
"Water levels on area waterways can rise very, very quickly if they start letting extra water out of the dam," Sacramento Fire Department spokesperson Chris Harvey told FOX 40 News, "Were advising people to use a lot of caution."

Veteran area paddler Mike Rumsey agrees, "The guy in the rec boat with his dog, short sleeves, shirts and no PFD might disagree with me." said Rumsey,  "But yeah it dangerous! Fast cold water.  A few years back when I was new to serious kayaking we did a trip from Sunrise to Miller Park on the Sacramento. The river was at 10,000 cfs going through Ardent Bar Rapid. The last guy in our group of three went over in his sea kayak. We hurried and did a assistance rescue, got him back in his boat let him go. A log sticking out then clunk he's broadside with the log trying to hang on. By the time my other partner got to shore and out of his boat, the guy on the log had went under. Good thing there were no branches on that log. That's a river you got to give major respect."

PHOTO BY PETE DELOSA

Upstream where the north and middle forks of the American River meet near Auburn, paddlers admired the raging whitewater. "I finally got to do the run below the confluence and experience the Gay Wave." said Team Pyrnaha's Pete Delosa, "Unbelievable world class surf wave down there. I may have a chance to get on Traverse Creek for the first time. Super stoked to fall off that waterfall. I've been wanting to do it for years but it only runs during rain events like this one. I'm supposed to drive to Washington for a race that could get cancelled because flows are too high. It's nice to cancel because it's high rather than too low which has happened to me a couple time in the past few years."

With all this water, experts still say,  California has seen only an average amount of precipitation this year. “February was incredibly warm and dry,” says David Pierce, a researcher at Scripps Institute of Oceanography told The Atlanitc, “If you look at the curves of El Niño, February to April is when we see rainy years differentiate themselves. It’s already March. There’s another six weeks of wet season, then that’s all she wrote.” The rain totals have differed throughout the state. Northern California has had a great year, while the southern part of the state still seems gripped by drought.

This year's Sierra snow pack should offer some banked up moisture. Melting snow accumulated through the winter slowly released through the dry spring and summer will keep those rivers running and filling the upper reservoirs. The snow pack had been doing well. At the end of January, it sat at 110 percent of normal, but in February sank to 80 percent,  according to Pierce.  However, this weekend, another storm is expected to drop an extra two to three feet of snow above 4,000 feet, putting the snow pack above normal again.

PHOTO BY KATHY MORRISON

That's good news for paddlers this summer with those once thirsty rivers are flowing again in northern California. "Heck yeah I'm stoked about the up coming season." said Rumsey,  "I spent most my river time on the South Fork. It hasn't had water like this since I started paddling. It's looking like water all year as long as there are no warm storms melt the snow pack. This season were going to step it up."

"From a business perspective I hope this rain means more people are going to be able to get out more often." said DeLosa, "I hope people who are not yet paddlers will see the opportunity to get involved in this outdoor community.  New paddlers coming in and taking lessons and experienced paddlers excited about the upcoming season buying new gear are both good for the industry and the community can't survive with out the industry any more than the industry can survive with out the community. I'm personally looking forward to helping folks progress their skills this spring. I hope to see a lot of people taking on new challenges and having success with all this water."

Foul Weather Fan

  No epic adventure started with "On a bright sunny day. . ." tweeted adventurer Sean Conway.

We were grateful for the rain. It has been very dry since Christmas. Raindrops bounced off the windshield in big thuds before the wipers could push them away. We were driving down a winding road to the lake after leaving the highway. Gray clouds were everywhere as the lake came into view.  As we parked and began unloading the sky unloaded on us.

What is about adverse weather that makes my boat trips more memorable? A man vs nature type endeavor.  I'm not saying, I don't like bright sunny days. I really do. Nothing is better than kayaking along while being kissed by the sun. In a state known for its sunshine, I have experienced lots of dazzling days this past year. However, across most of the country, unfavorable climates and kayaking coexist. Snow, rain. sleet and fog are paddled through heartily.

Both Canoe & Kayak and Adventure Kayak magazines always publish photos of boatmen and women manning up against the harsh environment. Sarah Outen and Justine Cugenven pounding through heavy wind, rain and waves while making their way through the Aleutian Islands, while kayak adventurer Daniel Fox's expedition from Victoria B.C. to San Francisco experienced a full blast of nature making his trip come to an end.
"The wave literally fell on me, and within a second the kayak was broken in two below my  knees," Fox told, Canoe & Kayak, "It was quite a swim."

The heavy rain didn't last long. Just long enough to send two fishermen running for cover and get our gear and kayak seats a little wet. This was the first time my kayak partner Erik Allen had brought me to Rollins Lake. The lake at 2,100 elevation, is on the western side of the Sierra near Colfax, California. It is a 900-acre reservoir with 26 miles of shoreline, perfect for paddling year round. Erik was on a mission to scout out some trails near the mouth of the Bear River. Our plan was to kayak up the lake and river as far as we could before the current pushed us back.
 The water looked like green emerald under the gray skies. We kayaked along the rust color shore, breaking up the quiet water. Around the bend loomed a bank of mist hanging over the lake. Erik, who grew up close by has paddled the lake many times before, but for him, there is always something new.
"Rollins Lake is always changing," whispered Erik, "It never looks the same."

Lakes are like that. I thought back to my paddling days in Minnesota, remembering the way the snow looked along the shore of Red River Lake and the way the rain came down in the early spring on Beers Lake in Maplewood State Park. The day's conditions have framed many of my paddling memories. My sons will always start their tale of camping with, "Remember how cold it was or how it rained when we went to..." The day's weather has added to our experiences whether it was fair or foul.

A layer of fog engulfed us as we paddled farther along.  It was like floating on a cloud. I let Erik paddle up farther ahead so I could get a photo. Before long he disappeared in the white haze dropping into the unknown.

Our paddle through the mist added to the magic of our trip to the lake. The rainy and foggy weather is now etched into another paddling memory.
If you wait for the perfect day. You will never go. "Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating," said English writer John Ruskin, "There is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather."

This article was originally published in Outside Adventure to the Max February 20, 2015

 

KAYAK BLISS

Wherever there is a channel for water, there is a road for the canoe.  Henry David Thoreau

 It is no secret I love kayaking. If I'm not paddling across a lake or river,  I'm usually thinking about paddling across a lake or stream. To ease the stress of the day, my mind literally drifts away planning the next great outing on the water with the poetic words of naturalist Sigurd Olson, voyaging through my head, heart and soul.

 If it is calm, the canoes drifting through reflections with nothing to break the vast silence but the hypnotic swish of paddles, there are moments when one seems suspended between heaven and earth. If it is stormy and the lakes alive, with whitecaps and blowing spume, each instant is full of battle and excitement. When, after hours and sometimes days, the misty outlines of the lake take form again, islands slowly emerge and float upon the surface, headlands become real, one passes through a door into the beyond itself and the mystery is no more.

 So it really came as no surprise when I read Kaydi Pyette's article in the current issue of Canoeroots magazine entitled Find Your Bliss stating that people are happier when they spend money on experiences, not things. Pyette states, according to psychology professor at Cornell University researcher Dr. Thomas Gilovich, experiences, rather than material goods, make us happier in the long run. This is contrary to what some people feel is true, since material goods last longer than individual experiences. Yet, the happy memories associated with a concert or ski trip last longer, creating more of a positive impact than the short-term happiness from a single purchase.

"Our experiences are a bigger part of ourselves than our material goods," said Gilovich in an interview with Co. Exist's Jay Cassano, "You can really like your material stuff. You can even think that part of your identity is connected to those things, but nonetheless, they remain separate from you. In contrast, your experiences really are part of you. We are the sum total of our experiences."

Pyette's article went on to say, that even bad experiences create happy memories. A camping trip of nothing but rain becomes a great opportunity for bonding, and an excellent story to tell. Stressful, uncomfortable and scary experiences can be turned into funny stories and later be seen as valuable learning experiences.

"We consume experiences directly with other people," said Gilovich. "And after they're gone, they're part of the stories that we tell to one another."

 There is something about paddling: the quiet rhythm of the blade sliding in and out of the water, the feel of my body's movement and tempo as I lean into the stroke and pull the paddle toward me. For me, there are no bad days on the water,  only great memories.

"There have been countless campfires, each one different, but some so blended into their backgrounds that it is hard for them to emerge." wrote Sigurd Olson, "But I have found that when I catch even a glimmer of their almost forgotten light in the eyes of some friend who has shared them with me, they begin to flame once more. Those old fires have strange and wonderful powers. Even their memories make life the adventure it was meant to be."

SWIMMING LESSONS

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 Ground Hog'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' 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 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.