It was kind of solemn, drifting down the big still river, laying on our backs looking up at the stars, and we didn’t ever feel like talking loud, and it warn’t often that we laughed, only a kind of low chuckle. --Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
Debbie joked when we pulled up the boat ramp that when people saw our pictures, they would think we were in Sisseton instead of California. The view at Brannan Island State Recreation Area had that look of those Mid-western lakes we both remember growing up. Flat, hot and windy. Tall grasses and stubby banks along the shoreline, while speedboats and whitecaps came with the open water. Even a South Dakota license plate in the parking lot gave us a double take.
It is the heart of the California Delta. An expansive inland delta and estuary to the Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers. Some 700 miles of rivers, sloughs, and wetlands come together before heading toward the Pacific Ocean. The area is alive with birds and great fishing.
Under the shadow of 3,500 foot Mount Diablo to our southwest, we paddled along Three Mile Slough. The slough is sandwiched between the two rivers and is jumping off point for many speed boats heading into the delta. We won't be going far to get our first taste of the delta. We slip into a quiet wake-free zone on the east of the recreation area. Swimming and fishing areas make up most of the west bank of the recreation area. A land bridge forces us back to Three Mile Slough. Into the wind, we paddle out to catch a view of the bridge by the same name.
A speed boat roars by putting water over Debbie's bow getting her all wet. She has had enough of this windy paddling exercise. We spent the rest of the day exploring the old river towns and their history on the way back.
Over the Bow is a new 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
We were not far from where gold was discovered in California that set off the Gold Rush. This Saturday morning South Fork of the American River was in a gush and for steady gathering tribes of kayakers, conditions couldn't seem more golden. Despite the historic on-going California drought, the river was full of water. Through deals made with upstream reservoirs and powerhouses along the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission guidelines, timed releases will keep dependable flows of whitewater and boaters coming all summer.
Pete DeLosa has a calm demeanor, an easy-going personality that makes you like him right away. He is a member of Team Pyranha and would be leading the trip down river. It's Demo Day, a free event sponsored by the River Store and Pyranha Kayaks to give local paddlers an opportunity to try Pyranha's new 9R and Burn III kayaks.
"I think that is what I like the most." said DeLosa, "Seeing people get in a boat they haven't paddled before and enjoying it. Everyone thinks its boat height, boat weight and gallons. Stop looking at the specs. Get out and paddle different boats. Find the boat that makes you want to go out and do it"
The shiny new kayaks glisten in the morning the sun. The 9R is the newest of Pyranha's fleet of kayaks. Its narrow width increases its speed while innovative outfitting and a lower knee profile offers maximum control.
Across from it rests the Burn III offering a combination of precision and stability whether you are a beginner or expert. It was the kayak I will be paddling.
I had looked for a bigger volume boat. The crossover kayak I own doesn't suit my skills and is a bad fit. I have had my share of swims with it. It always makes me a bit doubtful when it comes to my whitewater paddling abilities.
DeLosa instilled some confidence in me.
"Picture a good run at the top and you will have success at the bottom," said DeLosa. "Usually if you see something bad happening, it's self-fulfilling."
Then he said something that rolled me like a Class III wave.
"You know I'm scared to death of water." he said looking at the placid river, "You know if you ask me I don't think I would swim across the water right here. I mean I could do it with a PFD, but without it, I don't think I would want even try it. Its something I have to overcome."
DeLosa is a special athlete. He can do amazing things in his kayak. I paddled behind him and the three others with us during the first rapids we met, coincidentally called Old Scary. I looked for the easy line hoping not to roll in the days first waves while the others punched through the big waves. DeLosa then pulled his kayak for a bit of surfing and offered tips to the other paddlers.
"Kayaking is more mental than it is physical." said DeLosa, "My first couple of years of creek boating were in a Wave Sport Habitat. I had bought it from a friend of mine and never even paddled the thing. I wanted to get to kayaking and he had a boat to sell. It was totally dumb luck, but it worked out great for me. For a couple of years, I paddled that boat through what at the time the hardest water I ever paddled. I had done it all in that boat and I didn't want to get in any other boat. I thought I was unstoppable in that kayak. It made me feel confident which pushed me to want to try new things. I had success and it kept me stoked. It also just kept feeding the cycle. The more success I had, the more confident I felt and I was willing to attempt more."
My confidence was beginning to soar with the Burn III. The river running kayak proved to be stable and forgiving through the turbulent water. After crashing through Barking Dog Rapid a popular kayak play hole, I felt an eagerness for more challenges. I took the lead at Highway Rapid a long rock garden wave train. I twisted and turned with the punches of the flow. The last one was Swimmers Rapid, rightly named because it seems to dump the commercial rafter customers at the end, was a victory lap for me. As I paddled up to the Greenwood Creek take out, I had a great sense of satisfaction. Credit goes to the Burn III.
"I like seeing everyone having a good time" said DeLosa at the end of the day, "I like giving people the opportunity to get into a new kayak that they have tried before. And its like icing on the cake when they really enjoy it."
The winding trail keeps going up. Climbing steady with the view of the bay ever-changing. It started on pavement, leading to steps and then a trail twisting through a canopy of oaks and madrones. Crossing over the fire road the North Ridge Trail is interrupted with a picture post card view of Ayala Cove.
In the summer of 1775, Captain Cook has just completed his second voyage around the globe, George Washington was given the command of ragtag bunch of rebels fighting in a fledgling revolution and Juan Manuel de Ayala and crew of the San Carlos became the first vessel to enter the world's
greatest natural harbor of San Francisco Bay.
Ayala later reported, "It true that this port is good. Not only for the beautiful harmony that offers to the view, but is does not lack very good fresh water, wood, ballast in abundance. It's climate though cold, is healthful and free of those troublesome fogs we had in Monterey."
Spanish navigators had
been missing it for more than 200 years, but on Aug, 5th The San Carlos battling powerful currents and using a crescent moon to steer by slipped past the Golden Gate into the bay. He saw an island and named it Santa Maria de los Angeles or as we call it in present-day Angel Island. Looking to protect his ship, he anchored it in Ayala Cove and remained there for nearly a month while is crew explored and mapped the bay area for the first time.
Over looking that cove today, ferryboat after ferryboat cruise in daily dropping off and picking up tourists at the island's visitor center and museum. The little cove is abuzz with activity as visitors look forward to their new discoveries on the island.
I'm here with four others from Bayside Adventure Sports. A church sports group based out of the Sacramento area. While most people visit the island via ferryboat, we all paddled in and are camping at the kayak camp on the northwest side of the island. I had paddled around the island earlier today and now the goal is to hike to its top. A 788 foot climb up Mount Livermore.
The entire island is withinAngel Island State Park boundaries and administered by California State Parks. The island has a history of being used in a variety of purposes including, military forts, missile site, an US
Public Health Service Quarantine Station, and an US west coast Bureau of
Immigration inspection and detention facility. Historic building, battery strongholds and installation facilities have been left behind to view on guided tours.
We are steadily climbing up North Ridge Trail on the east end of the island. We have ascended between 500 to 600 feet since leaving the visitor center. Through the trees we catch views of old Fort McDowell and the bay. It's a sailor's paradise today. Vessels can be seen skimming across the water in every direction. Their white and shiny
sails bounding over their tops on the blue water. Like
stars in the heavens there are way to many count.
It's a 5 mile trek around the island. For a dollar extra people can bring their bikes on the ferry or rent one in Ayala Cove while visiting the island. There are 13 miles of hiking trails and roadways on Angel Island. Cyclists have access to 9 of them. However, for the two and half mile trip up to Mount Livermore its all hiking. Steep switch-backs make the trail challenging to even the best of hikers.
At 700 ft. the trail splits into three. While two trails lead back down and one goes to the summit. The trees yield way to the bay for its view. There is still evidence of the 2008 fire that scorched 250 acres there. At 88 more feet we were rewarded with an island's awe-inspiring expansive 360° views of the San Francisco skyline, Alcatraz, the Golden Gate Bridge and Marin County.
It is a view Ayala never got to enjoy for himself. Ayala had accidentally shot himself in the foot and left most of the exploring to his sailing master Jose de Canizares. On September 17,
1775 he sailed the San Carlos back out through the Golden Gate never to return again. A year later explorer Juan Bautista de Anza
led the first colonists to the hilly peninsula facing the Golden Gate and
and chose site for the future city of San Francisco.
Our visit was short also. When we loaded our kayaks up with our camping gear and paddled away the next morning, unlike Ayala we all look forward to our next visit to the little island.
I come back to the sea. In my case it is usually San Francisco Bay, than which no lustier, tougher, sheet of water can be found for small-boat sailing. It really blows on San Francisco Bay. During the winter, which is the best cruising season, we have southeasters, southwesters, and occasional howling northers. Throughout the summer we have what we call the "sea-breeze," an unfailing wind off the Pacific that on most afternoons in the week blows what the Atlantic Coast yachtsmen would name a gale. ---Jack London
When I think back on all those places I have ever wanted to kayak. I would dream of clear forest lakes, whitewater in a rocky mountain canyon and a sea view of the Golden Gate Bridge.
It is undeniably one of the greatest views ever. The Golden Gate Bridge is an icon of America. As I began unloading my kayak into Horseshoe Bay just to the north of the bridge, even in the early morning hours, folks have already begun to congregate at the water's edge with their eyes fixed on the bridge in reverence.
It is a calm and beautiful morning. Out of the safety of Horseshoe Bay, I have heard about what challenges await. San Francisco Bay is legendary to the sea kayaker. Some of the wildest sea conditions on the entire West Coast can be found just past that sea wall. The bay is known for steep waves, fast and swirling currents and howling winds blowing through that Golden Gate. The last time my paddling partner, Erik Allen and I paddled the bay we faced a tiring wind on the return trip. I laughed at it anyway.
"You have never paddled Lake of the Woods at Zipple Bay, have you." I told Erik, and then exaggerated just a little, "They use a log chain for a windsock there."
Erik might have been concerned about the wind, however, I'm worried about the tides and currents. Sea kayaking is still a foreign language to me. Ebbs, slacks, floods, and tide tables make up words in a sea kayaker's secret code. A flood tide makes it easier to paddle out while ebb will aid in the return. Finding the ideal time optimal for one's paddling experience.
Adding to even more the chaos are the pleasure crafts, ferries and ocean-going vessels competing for the same waterway. All of these factors should be considered when paddling in the bay and caution should always be exercised.
I picked a good time to paddle. It is early and the winds are light and the tide is in my favor. I'm going solo across to Angel Island to join my camping party for an overnight on the island. They came the day before and I will be joining them. My kayak is loaded up with my camping gear, a change of clothes and an assortment of freeze-dried foods and power bars.
My heart races as I exit the Horseshoe Bay and enter the swells of the ocean. It is an exhilarating feeling as I round Yellow Bluff, a 90-foot cliff just of east of Horseshoe Bay. The waves crash gently against its walls. I enjoy views of seals bobbing their heads up above the surface of the water. They are my only company so far. It is way to early for ferryboats. Their traffic won't begin till mid-morning. I stay along the shore for a while before making a northeastern turn towards Angel Island's Stuart's Point. To my left is Richardson Bay and Sausalito, to my right, Alcatraz Island and San Francisco while behind me is the Golden Gate Bridge. Straight ahead is Angel Island silhouetted against the sun. Its dark mass rises out of a hazy glow.
It's a little less than 3 miles across to it. The island looms larger and larger with each stroke. I spot a few fisherman and sailboats on the horizon. It is an easy paddle till I catch the swell of and rapid water of Raccoon Straights. It pushes me past Stuart Point and towards the kayak in campsite. In the grass, I catch sight of my party's kayaks nestled in the grass. Up the hill, I'm just in time for breakfast.
The day had just begun. After unloading my gear and quick breakfast I'm back on the water again with the group of paddlers. We make a quick trip across Raccoon Straights to Tiburon followed by a trip back through the straights and around the island.
Angel Island is the bay's second largest island. It's about five miles to hike around which gives me an idea of the distance I will paddle while circumnavigating the island. I team up with fellow paddler Phil Montanes for the trek around the island. I watch Phil and his kayak disappear and reappear in the bounding waves while crossing the ferryboat lanes to Stuart's Point. Going around the west end of the island we take on the full brunt of the bay's winds. At times we don't even seem to be moving. We paddle hard past the rocky ledge before the bay winds decrease. From there, we sweep along the south side of the island, where we have the best views of Alcatraz and the cityscape of San Francisco. After Blunt Point, the bay is as calm a Minnesota lake on summer's afternoon. The eastern side of the island usually offers protection against the prevailing west winds. Here we catch our breaths and pass the historic sites of the island. The fort and the immigration station stand like silent witnesses to another time. Rounding the corner again we catch the wind and the view of Ayala Cove. This where the tourists arrive and depart the island via ferry boats. We have almost made it. Just past Point Ione, we see our kayak camp's beach and the far off view of the Golden Gate.
Part Two of my trip to Angel Island next week in Outside Adventure to the Max.
Originally published on May 6 2014. This post has been an Outside Adventure to the Max fan favorite.
The city of Fargo has been all the news this past year. It has a new hit TV series that shares its name. ESPN College GameDay came to town for a visit last fall, and it received rave reviews from the national media about its urban trendy downtown nightclubs, restaurants, and bars. It seems Fargo is cool. After living and raising a family there for quite a while it nice to see it get some positive attention. But, for me, the best part is its river.
Slicing through the communities of Fargo and it's next door neighbor, Moorhead, Minn, is the Red River of the North. This slow-motion friend doesn't seem to be in a hurry at all. It meanders 550 miles from its source in Breckenridge, Minn all the way to Lake Winnipeg in Canada. In one of the world's flattest places, the river can pick and chose its own way. There are not many straight lines in this waterway. In some places along the river, Minnesota is on the west bank, while North Dakota is to the east. Moving very slowly and sloping at just a half-foot per mile, any beginner can navigate this river easily.
Urban paddle through downtown Fargo and Moorhead
Sunset on the Red River.
Kayaking or canoeing has never been so easy. Along with the cities' parks departments, the Riverkeepers, a nonprofit organization established to protect and preserve the integrity and natural environment of the river in the Fargo-Moorhead area, have developed several access points along the river. Two favorites are located above and below the Midtown Dam in Dike East Park. The dam has been retrofitted with a rocky slope. Fishermen hang out here daily during the summer months.
From here one can paddle either north through the center of the cites to get views of the skylines and bridges, or go south towards Lindenwood park to escape the bustle.
It is hard to believe this is an urban paddle as one winds and weaves around with the stream. Willow, cottonwood and box elder trees cradle the river at each bend. In either direction don't be surprised to see beaver, river otters and white-tailed deer. It feels like a trip into the wilderness.
Of course in other places, one can tell they are in a city. The sounds of traffic and train horn echo off the water. The music of a jazz guitar floats down from a riverside venue or the Oak Grove High School Band plays its fight song at its football field near to the river. It is always good to remember pizza or a glass of wine are minutes away after the kayaks are loaded up.
Kayaking only stops when the Red River is frozen.
One of the more popular events on the river is the annual Race the Red kayak and canoe race sponsored by the Riverkeepers. Each year area paddlers come to challenge skills, raise money for Riverkeepers and have fun. The race features a 10-mile competitive race and a 2-mile fun paddle. The race begins at the Lindenwood Park bike bridge and ends downstream at the floating bridge above the Midtown Dam. For more information log on to Riverkeepers.org
Lining up for the race.
Debbie and Nick after placing in last year's race.
I'm now part of the Red River's history. I'm sure no one in recent times had paddled up and down it so much. It's muddy looking waters, ever-changing direction and rumble of its dams still call and always will. I have seen picturesque sunrises and sunsets, cool morning mists and tranquil snow falls at each bend. I have enjoyed time with family and friends floating on the river as well as solo trips of solitude. The river was a wonderful friend in my journey of life.
“Going up that river was like traveling back to the beginning of the world, when the plants ran wild and the trees were kings. We sailed up an empty river into a great and silent forest" --Joesph Conrad, Heart of Darkness...
In the past couple of weeks, I have been taking trips up the river and then back down. It is challenging in a way for me. All explorers went up the river from Lewis & Clark to Teddy Roosevelt. It's the drive to see what is around the next bend and the anticipation of not knowing what will be seen.
My kayak partner Erik Allen and I were for that challenge last month when we paddled up the North Fork of the American River from Upper Lake Clementine. We had traveled up another section of the river before at a place called Rattlesnake Bar and above Folsom Lake. There is a mixture of lake and river. Above Lake Clementine, it would be all river. Going up the North Fork follows an ever-rising gradient. The water comes in swift fashion. We would paddle pool to pool portaging through the rapids. Erik's longer sea kayak would help him muscle through the fast current a few times by vigorously paddling as hard as he could to pass over the ledge where the water was in a boil. Its nature's rowing machine.
"This is a marathon, not a sprint," Luke Kimmes told the Des Moines Register "Physically, it's very demanding to paddle nine to 12 hours a day, but a lot of it is up here (he points to his head). It's that mind over matter idea."
Kimmes and five others are on different odyssey this year. They are on the Adventure to Rediscover North America Expedition, canoeing from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean. The journey will take them through ten states, and five Canadian provinces traveling the most way the upstream on the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers. It's well past 2,000 miles upstream before they are finally going downstream in the Red River Valley of the North and into Canada.
"This is the type of trip I dreamt about when I was a kid," said Kimmes, "It's a passion of mine to show others that getting outside and enjoying the environment is good for the soul. It's a lot better than sitting at a desk."
I compare it to climbing steps. On some rivers, you will feel a gentle tug or push. When a river turns, it forms a bend. The strongest and deepest current will usually be found on the outside of that curve. So while Erik tries to power paddle through, I take the easy way, finding where the rapids are the narrowest to the pools. Locking my boat against the eddies, a relative calm where the main current flows reverse, I climb out of my kayak and push it through the fast water. Leaning into the streaming and bracing against the boat.
I have waded before. In the Midwest, we could never really wade in many rivers. Their bottoms were made of mud and silt. You would quickly sink up to your ankles or knees in muck. Don't even think of wearing a pair of shoes. You would either leave them stuck in the mud or spend the next hours trying to scrape the sludge off them. There it's better to go barefoot with the mud oozing between your toes.
Water shoes are a must today. A couple of weeks ago this water was snow. It is still cold against my legs and feet. This water has enough power to knock me down and the rocks underneath are slippery and jagged. My neoprene boots hold in my warmth and also protect my feet in the rocky river bottom. In my mind, I think about to the explorers and gold miners who stood ankle deep in this cold stream searching for new lands and new treasure. Before long we are back flat water with a roar of the rapids behind us.
"Really, it speaks to what this trip means to me, which is if you have a passion, part of passion is struggling and sacrificing for what you want." said the mastermind Adventure to Rediscover North America Expedition, Winchell Delano in the same interview with Des Moines Register, "The feeling when you cross that divide and you're going downstream again, it's like delayed gratification through cathartic pain."
In the Midwest the slope is measured in inches. It's like pouring water on a pool table and watching it meander to the table's lean. In the foothills of California, if there is water, it comes cascading down the canyons offering scenic beauty and solitude. At one spot we are treated with the sight of a bald eagle. It pays us no mind as we paddle on in a quiet pool. When soaring, it could be on to the next canyon in the time it takes us to paddle around one bend. It's all new to us, even though it has been mapped, surveyed and Google earthed. When we are out here paddling up stream little matters. It's like we are the first to see it, hear it and touch it.
"Just one more bend," we say to each other. Or maybe even one further up. Lets see how far we can go, powered by trail mix and granola bar before turning back. Then we can turn around and ride the bouncy gentle rapids back to still waters.
My talented wife Debbie Klenzman Carlson owner of Progressive Portraits made some impressive images me kayaking Lake Natoma under the Rainbow Bridge in Folsom.
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Rivers are the primal highways of life. From the crack of time, they had borne men's dreams, and in their lovely rush to elsewhere, fed our wanderlust, mimicked our arteries, and charmed our imaginations in a way the static pond or vast and savage ocean never could. ---Tom Robbins
Sometimes I'm just at a loss for words to describe the joy I have for kayaking along on a lake, a river and now the ocean. I got into boating roughly five years ago this month and haven't looked back. Each day on the water fades into a dream only a picture can tell. Bright days, cloudy days and moonlit nights have been chronicled in my photographs of my paddling adventures. Here are a few of my favorite images from this year so far.
Lake Natoma
Paddle Pushers on Lake Natoma
Moonlight Paddle on Lake Natoma
Lower American River
Rollins Lake
Folsom Lake
Folsom lake
Folsom Lake
North of the American River
San Francisco Bay
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The strap. It is a simple thing. A strong canvas, leather, or woven fabric nylon webbing that offer strong results. Used in place of a rope, its fasteners or buckles hold things in place. A mere two-inch-wide strip nylon can tow a car or truck. They come in a variety of lengths and colors. And when it comes to boating, its overlooked and often forgotten both in our thoughts and literally at the boat access.
You will never see your favorite boater's magazines with headlines like these... New Straps for 2015... Boater's Guide for Straps 2016.... or What Your Strap Color Say About You. That would just be silly. Canoes and kayaks will always get the glory. Those sleek, majestic and noble crafts that put us on to the lake and stream filling our paddling dreams. But, we ought to realize we would never even get close to the water without our faithful strap.
It was invented before time. Our prehistoric ancestors lashed their supplies together while trekking through the snow across what is now Europe chasing the woolly mammoth.
Needing provisions all tied together all tied together would, of course, help then to inspire travois, dogsleds and then the wheel. If man would travel he would need a strap.
The buckle came later. The Romans would develop it for their soldier's helmets and body armor. Made out of bronze, these buckles were functional for their strength and durability for the centurion. The concept is still used today in our plastic helmets and buoyant PFDs. But it was the strap that helped conquer the world. To carry a sword, the soldier wore a belt and buckle diagonally over his right shoulder down to his waist at the left holding a scabbard. Therefore, the strap and its buckle became important an element to the campaigning Roman army.
Throughout the ages, the strap and the faster became tools of war, peace and taming the wilderness. When the voyagers were portaging from stream to stream carrying packs laden with pelts while pulling their canoes along through the shallow water, the strap was there of course. Rough work and back-breaking work to say the least. Furs were in 90-pound bundles. If they couldn't be transported by canoe they were carried the men through the shallow waters. The standard load for a voyageur on a portage was two strapped bundles or about 180 pounds. There are reports of some voyagers carrying more five or more bundles and legends of them carrying up to eight. A physically grueling lifestyle not nearly as glorious as folk tales make it out to be and there helping shoulder the load was the fearless the strap.
Sometime in the age of automobiles, someone thought instead of carrying our canoes over our heads lets carry them over the tops of our Ford. It was revolutionary! No need to rent a boat at the lake when we could take our own trip down river. Tie the canoe down in the truck bed and drop it off at the access. Boundary Waters, Grand Canyon, or the Allagash River. No trip was too big or small for our friend the strap. Since we began carrying our boats with our vehicles, much the gear has had some wholesale changes. Roof racks now come with saddles, rollers and load assist. Trailers equip outfitters to haul numerous stacked boats everywhere. However new technology of boat transport, the strap has stayed the same. You can't change perfection. Its job has been, what it has always been. Hold it and secure it tightly.
We will either carefully tie down our kayaks or yank down on the strap, binding them with all our might. We all do this while taking the strap for granted. We lend them, we toss them and never seem to have enough of them. At the access, we will gently lay our canoes into the water while wadding up our straps into balls spaghetti throwing them into the back of the truck. We pay little concern as they become faded and frayed under the strain of our use. When loading up, one is always invariable left behind to another boater who doesn't have enough of them. Saying to us, "Use me till you lose me. I'll make the sacrifices to get you near the water. I know my time is short."
As you can see the strap is an ageless wonder, however its only a matter of time before your helpful strap is either lost or worn out and left behind in the access dumpster. So I give this tribute to the strap. The guarding of our paddle sports world, forever embracing our wandering.
This Outside Adventure to the Max comes with an all new video blog. The accompanying story was first published September 19, 2014.
I've lost count on 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 in to 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 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 by 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.
Come along for this Outside Adventure to the Max's special journey for this video blog extra.
This weekend I took part in full moon paddle with the Sacramento Paddle Pushers on Lake Natoma near Folsom, California. The meetup group's posting called for a full "Pink" moon rising. In poetic fashion, it says, "This Full Moon heralded the appearance of the pink moss, or wild ground phlox—one of the first spring flowers."
Calling this full moon "Pink" is a misnomer because this weekend's "Pink" Full Moon isn't really pink. It will still have the yellowish-white complexion that it always does, that is until early Saturday morning's lunar eclipse, but I'll tell you more about that later.
It refers to the herb moss which grows abundantly in early spring. In Native American cultures, this full moon has many names such as Sprouting Grass Moon, Egg Moon, and among coastal tribes, it's the Fish Moon, because this was the time of year that the shad swam upstream to spawn.
Our ancient ancestors have always looked to the sky. They gave names to the Full Moons to keep track of the seasons. January's full moon is called the Wolf Moon. Because of the warming temperatures when earthworms begin to appear March's moon is the Worm Moon. While September's full moon is called the Corn Moon or Harvest Moon because its when corn was supposed to be harvested. These colorful names all in invoke a certain magic. The moon is our the closest heavenly body in our nighttime skies. For thousands of years, we have used its light to guide us in the dark. What better way to sense its lunar allure than to watch the sunset into golden waters in the west and see the moon climb into the evening sky while kayaking.
Oh, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow Leapin and hoppin' on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow...Cat Stevens
This weekend I'm taking part in full moon paddle with the Sacramento Paddle Pushers. The meetup group's posting calls for a full "Pink" moon rising a little after 7 P.M. Pacific time. In poetic fashion, it says, "This Full Moon heralded the appearance of the pink moss, or wild ground phlox—one of the first spring flowers."
Calling this full moon "Pink" is a misnomer because this weekend's "Pink" Full Moon isn't really pink. It will still have the yellowish-white complexion that it always does, that is until early Saturday morning's lunar eclipse, but I'll tell you more about that later.
It refers to the herb moss which grows abundantly in early spring. In Native American cultures, this full moon has many names such as Sprouting Grass Moon, Egg Moon, and among coastal tribes, it's the Fish Moon, because this was the time of year that the shad swam upstream to spawn.
However this weekend, a lunar eclipse will coincide with this year's Pink Moon turning it actually pink while passing through the shadow of the earth. Plan on staying up very late to catch it. The west coast will have the best opportunity to view the eclipse beginning after 2 AM with the moon entering the umbra. Sky watchers will be treated to a nearly five-minute total lunar eclipse just before sunrise on Saturday. The moon will grow darker and then take on a reddish shade, before total eclipse at just before 5 AM. It will only last four minutes and 43 seconds, making it the shortest one of the century according to NASA.
Our ancient ancestors have always looked to the sky. They gave names to the Full Moons to keep track of the seasons. January's full moon is called the Wolf Moon. Because of the warming temperatures when earthworms begin to appear March's moon is the Worm Moon. While September's full moon is called the Corn Moon or Harvest Moon because its when corn was supposed to be harvested. These colorful names all in invoke a certain magic. The moon is our the closest heavenly body in our nighttime skies. For thousands of years, we have used its light to guide us in the dark. What better way to sense its lunar allure than to watch the sunset into golden waters in the west and see the moon climb into the evening sky while kayaking.
On one of my first moonlight paddles on Loon Lake in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the full moon overpowered the night sky. It was a giant gleaming ball hanging over the lake. It was hard to even see stars and even more difficult to spot the meteors we came out to see. The moon was so bright, the party I was with joked about getting "moon burned" by its rays. The water twinkled and glistened from the celestial glow. A sparkling single ray danced on the water to the silhouetted outline of the great pines pointing up toward the illumination of the sky.
A hush came over the transfixed boaters. Our voices had seemed to be bewitched and taken away in total fascination. The moon has that kind of power. If it can control the tides of the sea, rending one speechless under its luster is effortless to it. In the stillness of the lake, all of my senses were rekindled while gliding silently along, soaking in night's peaceful enchantment. All around me, I hear the gentle sound of lapping of the water against the bow. The air is fresh, damp and still. In each stroke of my paddle, I pull its coolness into my lungs. Looking down, the water is engulfed in the darkness below me, while across from the other kayakers are sharp shadows on the silver lining of the lake. Basic paddling techniques and safety concerns should be considered before setting off on a moonlit kayaking experience. Inland night navigation boating regulations vary from state to state. The U.S. Coast Guard Rules requires canoe and kayaks to have proper lighting aboard to prevent collisions. A readily available hand-held flashlight or headlamp is the minimum requirement and should be sufficient on most waters restricted for only paddlers. For larger lakes shared with other boat traffic, it's recommended to have a 360° light, available to turn on and display in any direction. Make sure to place the light out of your line of sight so your night vision is not impaired.
Check with your outfitter or local state park to see if they offer a moonlit paddle night. Across the country, many of them offer sunset and full moon paddling sessions and provide all the gear for a reasonable price. Northern California's Current Adventures has been taking paddlers of all skill levels on their popular moonlit kayaking excursion at Lake Natoma near Sacramento for years.
So check your calendar for next full moon and bring that special someone for a romantic voyage or the whole family for a moonlit kayak adventure.
On a rainy spring day on Beers Lake in Minnesota's Maplewood State Park.
I'm one of the lucky ones now. I can pretty much paddle my kayak every day of the year. One of the advantages to living in Northern California near the American River. However, while living back in the upper Midwest I would count-down the days till the ice would clear away from the area lakes and rivers. I would watch for days when the temperatures would inch above 40 or 50 degrees to take my kayaks to the water.
Wading in just a few feet into the water, even with neoprene boots, gave me a quick reminder it was April and not July. The water was still dangerously cold.
“Many newer paddlers don’t realize that even though the
air temperature is warm, the water can still be ice cold,” said Todd
Robertson, a certified paddling instructor at the Iowa Department of
Natural Resources told the Des Moines Register.
“As spring arrives, it takes a while for that
water to warm up, making it necessary to have a wet or dry suit on and a
change of dry clothes in a dry bag in case you dump your boat,”
Robertson said. “Remember, wet clothing and cold water make for
hypothermic conditions.”
Outlining this safety factor, Austin Kayak www.ack.com/blog has put together five points for anyone looking to get a jump start on their paddling season this spring.
1. Start With The the Basics
Keeping warm on the water as temperatures start to drop isn’t as hard
as you think. Make sure you have all the basics like your PFD, spray
skirt (for sit insides), bilge pump (also for sit insides), whistle,
paddle leash and first aid kit. Add to this list a complete change of
clothes in a dry bag just in case you fall in the water and want to
change later. It may go without saying, but be sure that none of the
clothes you wear or pack are cotton. Cotton dries slow, meaning you’re
going to be cold if there’s even a slight breeze out, plus it weighs you
down. Just don’t do it. What should you wear? Well, I was getting to
that…
Cold Weather Paddling Apparel Layering Guide
2. Layering Is A Paddlers Best Friend Against the Cold
You’ll want to take on the cold with the appropriate paddling
apparel, and that means layering with synthetic materials proven to keep
you both warm and dry. I’d recommend starting with a good base layer in
early fall and then adding piece by piece as the weather gets colder.
Refer to ourColdWeather Paddling Apparel Layering Guide to see how you can best do this. Keep in mind that when it gets colder it will be more important to
keep as much covered as you can and this means investing in things like
neoprene socks, paddling gloves (or pogies) and headwear. One really
great headwear option that’s just arrived at ACK is theBuff Thermal Pro,which uses a Polartec fabric to cover your neck and head as well as merino wool for your chin and mouth.
3. Don’t Paddle On An Empty Stomach
It’s important that you hydrate whenever you’re paddling but it’s
easy to forget when the sun isn’t beating down on you. In fact, keeping
well fed and hydrated will help minimize the risk of hypothermia if you
happen to fall in the water. Carbohydrates and foods high in fat will
give you both energy and warmth. On especially cold nights, I recommend
bringing along a vacuum sealed flask of your favorite warm beverage
(non-alcoholic) like hot chocolate or cider.
4. Familiarize Yourself With Rescue Techniques
Even for a paddler who is dressed for cold water immersion, a swim
can still bring on hypothermia if you aren’t prepared. Knowledge of
rescue techniques and regular practice with your paddling companions
(and cold water paddlers SHOULD have partners) are essential. Rolling is
particularly important to know for sea kayakers or anyone else in a
sit-inside because the inability to perform this will mean an extended
exposure to cold water. All paddlers should also be able to re-enter
their kayak should an accidental capsize occur. If you aren’t
comfortable with these skills, make sure someone in your group knows
this and is prepared to help.
5. Wear Your PFD!
At risk of sounding like a broken record, my last tip is a reminder
to wear your PFD. Not only is it an added layer of insulation but they
will keep your head above water, increasing your ability to fight
against hypothermia dramatically. Just take a 10 minute lesson from the
Cold Water Boot Camp if you don’t believe me.
Also remember, cold water is not the only danger this
time of year. Springtime floods are common on many rivers. At flood stage rivers can be deadly and filled with hazards. Trees branches and other debris have been trapped in the
ice and when the river thaws, it moves downstream and is deposited at
the base of bridge pilings and the outside of tight bends in the river. A good knowledge of the river is vital when paddling in high water, along with good boat control skills and understanding how to navigate around
these hazards is crucial to remaining safe while on the river.
Canoes, kayaks, and stand-up paddleboards were involved in 20% of all
boating casualties in 2013 according to the U.S. Coast Guard 2013 Recreational Boating
Statistics. That year 109 people died as result of kayak or canoe mishap. Sobering statics on how safety practices should always be exercised no matter what the season.
Darin McQuoid grew up exploring and hiking river canyons. Little did he know he would turn it into a career. It was only a matter of time that he would learn to photograph and kayak those same whitewater-filled valleys and share that perspective with the world.
McQuoid, a California based photographer
and white water paddler, has kayaked most of the world on international expeditions to Africa, Pakistan,
India, Chile, Argentina, Slovenia, France, Japan, along with trips into Mexico and Canada as well as the USA. With an eye for action, his photographs have been published in National Geographic, Outside, Canoe and Kayak, Kayak
Session, Paddler, Rapid Magazine, Kanu and many other publications. Last week we talked to McQuiod about his kayaking, photography and passion for adventure.
NC: How many days did you spend kayaking last year? DM: The drought made last year tough, but I managed to get out about a hundred days, thanks in a large part to British Columbia.
NC: You
are an accomplished kayaker and photographer that enables you to mix both
worlds of exciting images and daring exploits. Which came first, the love
of photography or whitewater kayaking? DM: When I started kayaking I was amazed at how little information I could find on rivers I was curious about, so a camera was purchased just to share some of the great places we get to see.
NC: I try to get a good picture every time I go out on the water. How about you? Do you need a picture or do you try something new every time you go out?
DM: I always bring my camera on the river, and most days take at least a
couple photographs I've been thinking about. The camera gets left behind
two or three days a year. That's added up to 160,000 kayaking shots
since I started.
NC: In your portfolio, it looks
like you hike into some pretty remote places to get images of your
fellow kayakers. How does it all work? Do you plan out the image and have
them make several runs or is all timing & luck?
DM: High
end kayaking is dangerous business. I've never asked anyone to run a
rapid or waterfall twice, yet I wouldn't consider getting the shot luck
either. Whitewater photography lends itself to previsualization. In
class V there is generally one line, and as an experienced kayaker I'm
able to see that line and know where the fundamental moment of
expectation and action will happen. Then I wait for the paddler to get
there and it's all about timing. Long term previsualization is knowing
what time of day to shoot certain angles for good light.
NC: You
have gone down some major whitewater rivers throughout the world as
both a photographer and a paddler. Are they all different experiences? DM: For
sure they are. I feel a lot more stress on a paid trip where I need to
produce results. It's still fun but a very different experience than
paddling with friends for pure fun. It also tends to up the class of a
river. On top of dealing with logistics for navigating the river there
is a lot of energy spend hiking around to get a good angle for
photographs, and mentally you always have to be on and thinking,
anticipating the next shot.
NC: What is the strangest thing you have seen on the river? DM: I
have not seen anything too crazy, just some great wildlife moments like
bears swimming across and a reindeer swimming in Newfoundland. The
strangest things seem to happen while running shuttle, there are some
interesting people out there.
NC: You
said, "Being a great kayaker is not just about kayaking skill. It's also
about being an ambassador for the sport on and off the water, as well
as being a true team player on the water." Like you, I find everyone is
pretty much your friend when they have a paddle in their hand. Why in
such a competitive world is there such alliance in the world of kayaking?
DM: It's such a small fringe sport it lends itself to a
tight knit community. Plus unlike skiing, just because someone else
went first doesn't mean the line is tracked out.
The first river you paddle runs through the rest of your life. It bubbles up in pools and eddies to remind you who you are. -- Lynn Noel
It was an uncommonly warm day in March of 2012. That year's winter was unfamiliar, to begin with. It had been a snowless Christmas for the area for the first time in 50 years and only a few snowstorms followed into February. The Red River Valley's rivers weren't on the rampage for the first time in years and their winter top coat of ice was being shed easily. Temperatures were racing into the 70s, making it hard to resist my first trip kayaking that year. I ordinarily started in late April while living in Fargo, N.D. Paddling in the upper Midwest is a seasonable transition. Break the kayaks out in the late spring. Paddle as much as you can all summer long. Dodge the leaves, rain then snowflakes during autumn and grumble about the cold while stowing the boat away for the long winter.
The Otter Tail River was clear, low and running slow. I always kicked off my paddling seasons on that river. It is a delightful waterway weaving through woods, marshes and farmlands in the heart of Minnesota's lakes country. I would be paddling upstream from the highway access off 210 just east of Fergus Falls. Its popular put in and take out spot along the river during the summer for canoeists and tubers alike. However, that day I had the river to myself.
I would loop in and out of the channel going up river. In the shadows, snow was still clinging to the banks of the river. Around a bend, I came across the large sheet of ice spanning most of the river. It had the look of a glacier. The March sun, however, was taking control. The ice was being rapidly melting away with each drip falling back into the river. Spring was on its way and the paddling season had begun.
Over the Bow is a new 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
“As we passed on, it seemed as if those scenes of visionary enchantment would never have an end.” --Meriwether Lewis
I have always found that visionary enchantment Lewis writes about on my trips at Folsom Lake State Recreation Area's Rattlesnake Bar and up the North Fork of the American River. Gliding in clear water along a passageway between massive granite ramparts cradling the lake and river. The canyon walls also flow in patterns of the stream. The once molten rock now crystallized over millions of years has been lifted and exposed. Thin-bedded sedimentary layers have been shattered and busted along the fault lines while large boulders have become their own islands raising from the depths.
When I started kayaking I dreamed of being in a place like this. These were the places pictured in the favorite kayak magazines. Quiet inviting pools of water with amazing scenery, while just around the bend the ripples have turned into churning cascades. The sound of the thundering water echoing off the chasm walls has always called to me.
It is a warm day in March and the lake running high. It’s a far cry from more than a year ago when I was driving and walking on the lake’s floor. Now the lake is nearly double with the water it at about 100 percent of normal, meaning the lake levels are where they should be, despite the ongoing drought. It's a good sign. I'm able to paddle farther into the North Fork's canyon than I have before, passing the long gone miner's gold camps. During the Gold Rush thousands of miners picked, dug and blasted along the banks of the river looking for fortune, but today it is only me finding the riches of the lake and stream.
Before long the placid lake turns into moving water. I feel the tug of current pushing me back. At a couple rapids, I leap-frog the fast water by portaging my kayak. I hopscotch between the uneven rock. The footing isn't great. I find sandy beaches below each rapid along with clear blue pools. In summer this would be an inviting spot for a swim. However, it is March and the water remains liquid snow from the Sierra. Swimming will have to wait till next time. I press on until being stopped by a long line of rapids.
I have lunch on the beach and then go with the flow. I catch the current enjoying a bouncy ride to quieter waters.
For many years, my kayak trail snacks have consisted of peanut butter sandwiches, an apple or banana and a bottle of energy water. This was great for all those riverside meals that included a stop. However, I soon found some of my trips were non-stop and I had to eat on the run.
That's when I became enticed by those little metallic lightning bolts of packaged energy gels, those super sugar jams to make all of us run faster, leap higher and paddle harder. We have seen them on display in the health aisle of the grocery store. The packaging screams ENERGY with dazzling delicious and exotic flavors. Cherry Blaze, Chocolate Outrage, Vanilla Bean, Mandarin Orange, and Salted Caramel. Wow! Sounds like my all my favorite ice creams. How can I resist?
They all feature convenient, easy-to-use squeeze packages—simply squeeze into mouth and follow with a bit of water. Just like astronauts. Now I'm feeling pretty heroic. This kayak trip may not be to the moon, but we're going to eat like it is. Besides, there is NASA like the science behind these gels. Look at the ingredients. Words that I can't pronounce or even spell, listed in small print that is too hard to read. Energy, chocolate, and endurance, just add water and go.
The gels are a reliable, portable and convenient way of delivering carbohydrates to the body during intense exercise, said Dr. James Morton, senior lecturer in exercise metabolism and nutrition at Liverpool John Moores University in an interview with The London Telegraph.
“The traditional approach was to feed carbs with fluids, but we now know now we can feed them in the form of gel and get the same results,” he says. “From a practical point of view, you don't have to carry round lots of fluid – carry the gel then use drinking stations when you need fluid.”
The gels are marketed to marathon runners and road bikers hence the term drinking station. But they are also good on hikes and paddles while carrying your own water. The gel packets fit into a pack or PFD pocket with ease. But, experts say they shouldn't stay in there long.
In reality, gels only make a difference if you're running, hiking, biking or paddling for a sufficiently long time. The process of digestion takes 45 minutes to an hour before the body can begin to use them as a fuel. A good rule is to down one before your hike or paddle and gets that lift during the trip.
However, if you decided to consume the gel mid-trip your body will receive an instantaneous boost before gaining the real benefits once the sugar's of the gel have been processed in the digestive system. Nutritionists say this occurs because the receptors in the mouth are linked directly back to the brain. Detecting carbohydrates, neural signals are sent telling your body it's receiving nutrients, and in turn, allows you to push harder in the short term. Of course, I get that from a Snickers candy bar but try keeping that in your PFD on a hot summer day.
To see if the gels would hold up on the water, I took a couple of the most popular brand along on some river outings. The Clif Shot from the makers of the Clif nutrition bar is made from 90% organic ingredients had a sweet mellow taste. It was chocolate, so just seeing that gave me a fast-hit of energy. While the Stinger's gel made from a combination of pure honey is a pretty sweet experience. GU gave a number of selections from chocolate to salted caramel. They were all a treat for me.
So all of them passed my taste and texture test with ease.
We all have different tastes. Some have caffeine, but many don't. Pick a brand and flavor that works for you. Just remember these are concentrated sport drinks. To get the full effect of the gel, make sure you drink it with water, while on the water.
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 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 boat men 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 900 acre reservoir with 26 miles of shoreline, perfect for paddling year round. Erik was on 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 has 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 are 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."
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