Clavey News - Equipment, Trips, and Stories

The Art of Competition

2011-11-29T20:28:00.000-08:00

My experience of going for the Petaluma Water Woman Title
(available to any woman that competed in three heats in three or more different crafts)

I am not a competitive person - at least that is what I say. But if you pin a number to my back, put a couple of seasoned athletes and paddle enthusiasts by my side and then blow a whistle my whole demeanor changes.
Why is that?

Encouraged by my friends and co-workers I took part in my very first paddle race last Saturday - the 1st Annual Petaluma Small Craft Center (PSC3) Time Trial and Mixer. It was a blast! I got to meet the cool folks that are part of the Northbay Rowing Club and PSC3 , challenge myself and get some much needed endurance building exercise - after not one, but two Thanksgiving feasts.

Now two of us ladies hold the title of Petaluma Water Women! In addition, I think I won the award for the most confused competitor. I am still not sure if I was on a team or on my own. First rule of thumb - pay attention at the skippers meeting. I began in a Surfski. To say that I am new to the that sport would be an understatement! It was only my second time after a one hour intro lesson with surf ski trainer Susan Starbird, 3 months prior.

Poor Susan...she probably has never seen a Surfski go so slow. They are considered extremely fast crafts when paddled on flat water and the fastest paddled craft available over long distances on open ocean swells. They track well but are less maneuverable and have less transverse primary and secondary stability than shorter, wider craft. Despite their inherent instability, a surf ski (with an experienced paddler) is a very effective craft for paddling in big surf. Its narrowness and length helps it cut or punch through large broken waves. Needless to say, I stayed aboard and paddled my little heart out - careful to keep my knees together for stability and not look or listen to anyone.

Crossing the finish line (marked by an inflatable turkey!) I returned the Surfski to the dock and began to wait with anticipation for my team member to complete his heat before I could go again. Or so I thought! 5 min.....then 10 min turned into 20 minutes before I was kindly informed that I was not to wait, but continue through the three heats as fast as possible.

Oh dear!

I jumped on a race SUP (Stand Up Paddle Board), the Tahoe Bliss, and made up some time on this more familiar craft and then completed the third heat by kayak (the sleek Fathom LV by Eddyline) and crossed the finish line for the final time with Santa on my side and the hoots and smiles and encouragement of my fellow paddlers! Needless to say I was the last one in but I had so much fun! Next year I hope to see more of you Clavey fans on the water!

A little about Me and how I "Got Clavey"

2011-11-09T16:03:00.000-08:00

Most of you have heard by now that the Clavey Gang has gotten with it, the times that is. After only 29 years in business they finally hired a female to be part of the team. Well, I wanted to formally introduce myself to all the Clavey fans out there on the world wide web and beyond! So hear it goes, "How do you do, my name is Aluxa. Yes with an X. But when you say it, pucker your lips and allow a gentle "shh" sounds to emanate in place of that X . Like this: Ah-loo-sha."

How this all came to be: I wandered into the Clavey store about three years ago to purchase gear for a 14-Day sea kayak expedition I was leading for a group of 17 seventeen year olds (yes, both quantity and age) from a private academy in Boston. Our destination was my home town in the Mayan Riviera and our mission was to be the first to kayak the coastline from Mahahual to Rio Huach and to explore Laguna Bacalar, an inland fresh water lagoon near Chetumal. That trip in Mexico was awesome but so too was that first visit to Clavey. And so, I found myself coming back quite often - often for the comic relief, mostly for gear advice and occasionally begging for money. Not exactly suckers, they bet they'd get a better return on their investment if they hired me for money instead of loaning me money.>

With a desk, a computer and a fridge filled with beer, I've spent these first few weeks putting together social paddles and creating new fun trips for the Clavey calendar of events.

Last Friday, we offered our first ever stand up paddle board fun run on the Petaluma River from the Turning Basin to the Sheraton Hotel and Marina for happy hour. Our motivation was $4.00 margaritas and a free taco bar. We will now call this, appropriately enough, the Stand Up Taco Happy Hour Paddle.

What a blast! Even though the Sheraton forgot to mention that there was going to be a 500 person U.S. Coast Guard Graduation and no Free Taco Bar! We, 5 stand up paddlers, still managed to put ourselves outside some Margaritas and some darn good calamari and chicken wings. Don't worry that you missed the first one. We'll be hosting the Stand Up Taco Happy Hour Paddle once or twice a month. Of course, only those few lucky first received a commemorative grain of rice with Clavey written on it.

Join me for our next run on Friday, December 2nd. We've got plenty of SUPs if you don't.

Cheers and hope to see you in the shop or on the water soon!! Cheers, Aluxa

First Annual Hog Island Huff SUP Race!

2011-10-04T11:02:00.000-07:00

Hog Island Huff - as in, it's gonna huff and puff and blow the race down.

The first Saturday morning in October saw the initial running of the Hog Island Huff Stand Up Paddle Race in Tomales Bay. Organized by Demo Sport and sponsored by Clavey Paddlesports (among other north bay SUP shops), the race brought together a varied mix of paddlers of all ages and abilities. For its first year I would have to call it a huge success with about 30 entrants.

            The norm this time of year during the morning hours on Tomales Bay, is water like a sheet of glass and spectacular paddling conditions with relatively warm, clear water and minimal boat traffic. I'm pretty fortunate to live in Inverness Park and when I have a little extra time in the morning I often drive to work in Petaluma via HWY 1 which goes along the East shore of Tomales Bay. Before the highway cuts inland, I pass Nick’s Cove and the Miller Park boat launch. Directly off shore is the picturesque Hog Island, home to nesting cormorants, harbor seals, leopard sharks, bat rays, white and brown pelicans, the occasional river otter and other varied forms of sea life. If I'm early for work or simply don't care if I get there on time, I'll pull out my board and take a quick 45 minute paddle around the island before heading into Sarcasm Central with Jeff and Scotto. It is here that we held the race last weekend.

            I had been watching the wind the whole week. We were experiencing unusually windy weather and the first winter storm was pending in the forecast. Friday night I loaded up our trailer with an assortment of boards and went out to dinner with the rep from Boardworks, Ryan Mahoney. Ryan was up in the area from So Cal trying to get me to look at his line of stand up paddleboards. We'd gone down to the river earlier that afternoon and tried a number of his SUPs out. My favorite was a bizarre looking new race board called the M&M that has a nose that looks like the front of a submarine. Like pilgrims drawn to Mecca, Ryan and I found ourselves at one of my favorite Petaluma brewpubs, TAPS, and did our best to knock down most of their featured Oktoberfest beers - like any serious athlete, I like to do a little carb loading before any big race. As the evening progressed Ryan kept asking me over and over again what boards I was going to order. As the tide will move even the largest of ships from their hard and fast position on ground back out to sea, so did the incoming swell of liquid nourishment move me from, “No I'm not gonna order any boards right now!” to, “What kind of discount would we get for a truckload of boards?"

   Before collapsing into a hops induced coma for the evening, I made a point to check the wind on my iPhone one last time. Blowing out of the south at about 8 knots – not bad, but certainly not the “sheet of glass” I was hoping for. Early the next morning Ryan and I headed out to Nick’s Cove to meet up with Steve from Demo Sport and set up for the race. As we arrived, the wind was light out of the south and racers were showing up with all sorts of different boards from 18’ unlimited Barks to 9’ surf SUPs to prone paddleboards. I wasn't planning on racing and was going to use the excuse that I needed to watch all of the boards and equipment that I had brought. Well that didn't work out as planned as Adam, the county park ranger, offered to watch the boards and take pictures with my camera. That, along with the fact that my good friend Jim showed up to race for the first time left me not much choice but to put on a pair of man-pants and join in. I gave Jim my Bark 12’6’ Surftech Competitor to use and I decided to try the Boardworks 12’6’ Raven – a touring style board similar to the Tahoe Zephyr.

As we waited for the race to start the conditions began to deteriorate and the wind picked up to a gusty 12-15 knots. If you want wind at your next race event, just invite me. Vegas bookies will gladly bet on the wind picking up if I'm in the race. But what are you gonna do? The first leg of the race had us heading across the bay to a channel marker on the west shore. The wind was hitting us from the side and it was starting to whitecap. About halfway through the first leg we all saw a patch of glassy water and headed straight for it only to find ourselves dredging our paddles through thick eelgrass (I only paddle here four times a week. Why would I know where the eel grass was?).

We rounded the first channel marker with our left shoulder and began the long leg down the bay against the wind and the tide. At this point the pack had spread out considerably and I was left with Jim and Ryan while a couple of hard-core racers were in the lead. This leg was really brutal and it felt like you were not making any headway and the next channel marker seemed to never get closer. When I finally got within 10 feet of the marker it seemed to take another hour before I could round it. Finally around the last marker the home stretch was a challenge in the cross chop but at least the wind was with us.

Three and half miles later with a time of 43:16, I finished 4th overall, second in the stock class and Jim came in 8th overall and second in his age group (50+). The winning time 40:51. Considering the conditions, I was really impressed that everyone finished – especially 12-year-old Lisse Comer who did the race on a prone paddleboard!

            After the race Nick’s Cove restaurant was kind enough to give us the use of the sunroom where we all gathered for food, more beer and awards. All in all it was a super fun event in a beautiful setting with good people – can’t ask for more than that! Stay tuned for next year.

See you on the water.

-Tom Meckfessel

Sawyer Square Top Oars, a Review

2011-08-17T10:46:00.000-07:00

Or why my wife is divorcing me

"Top heavy, with a little waist and a perfectly sized blade. If this oar was a woman, you'd call it Barbie. And it might as well have been a woman like Barbie for all the envious looks the other guys on the river were giving me."

What can I say - The moment I dipped the Sawyer Square Tops in the water and started pulling, a smile came to my face and hasn't left...except when I think about having to return them to Clavey. Then deep dark depression sets in. Seriously, you can ask my wife. She was there and saw the transformation. She’s outside in the garage, over in the far corner where I set up a cot for her. The Square Tops haven't left my side since that fateful day on the Rogue when the DyneLite blades quietly slipped into the water for the very first time. No sound, no effort, and oh the flex... It was close to the feeling of skiing the trees in deep powder for the first time on a pair of Lhasa POW’s. Sublime... Can’t explain.

That silly smile never left my face.

It all started when I called Tom to tell him I was taking some time off to take the family for a six day five night float on the Wild and Scenic Rogue River. He had a pair of Sawyer Square Top oars waiting to be picked up in Ashland and suggested that I do just that and maybe even try them out on the Rogue.

I was taught to row using oar rights. Sad I know, but hey, I didn’t know any better. A couple of times over the years I tried to jettison the training wheels but never quite managed. Eventually I settled for just shortening the length of the oar rights so I didn't have to pull in so far to feather.

Well that Saturday on the drive up to Ashland to pick up the Square Tops which were being held for me by the good folks at Indigo Creek Outfitters, I decided I would once again attempt to break away from the confinement of oar rights. Turns out the timing was right.

Virgin Sawyer Square Top Oar's - Beautiful!

These oars are beautiful to look at and built just right with plenty up top to provide an excellent counter-balance. Underneath the rope wrap the carbon fiber begins, continuing all the way through to the tips, giving these babies the flex of wood with lightweight and strength of carbon fiber. And with the oversized top and DyneLite blade, Sawyer's created a swing weight you won’t believe. Not to mention the rebound. Oh the rebound! You could pick her up and dance all night. All that and still tough enough to stand up to my abuse. What more could you ask for in an oar.

You'll never guess what I'm smiling about.

Anyway where was I. Of yeah. I ended up rowing the entire six days without oar rights. Rowing free and feathering all the while without the encumbrance of training wheels. Feeling every stroke and rebound. Rebound, did I mention rebound? Oh the rebound! It was like I had just awakened from dancing all these years with lead boots and chicken wings.

Really, the lightness of touch these oars require made it possible for me to make that next step. Only problem now is my wife thinks I love the Square Tops more than her. Something about the temporary sleeping arrangements 'til I have to return my precious oars back to Clavey. Ridiculous I say!

Last morning on the Rogue with my precious Square Top's.

By the way, I got a chance to row them once again with a virtually empty raft down the Gorge on the South Fork American. They ARE all that and more. The thing that confuses me though. The actions of my wife. On the day of, she got up early, made me breakfast, a very nice lunch for the day, drove me to put in, sent me on my way with a kiss and a hug, then picked me up at take out with colds drinks. All with a smile, no complaints or anything. I’m suspicious. She’s planning something... I think she’s after the Square Tops...

Rigged to row lunch on the South Fork American

Top: Cataract Oar with Magnum Oar Blade.
Bottom: Sawyer Square Top Oar with DyneLite Oar Blade.

End-note: After buying Sawyer Lights for my 13’ cat and enjoying the return to wood oars so much (see review here), I had been considering replacing my Cataract oars, with a set of Sawyer Smokers for my raft. Not anymore. Besides how much I enjoyed rowing the Square Tops, there is this: The 9.5ft. oars I used on the Rogue weighed a slight 7 pounds each! Combined with the light swing weight, both my wife and 11 year old daughter found these oars as much a pleasure to row as I did.

Four Days in Salt Lake (seems like a lifetime)

2011-08-09T11:49:00.000-07:00

Outdoor Retailer 2011

Checking out the goods for 2012

Almost every year, Jeff and I make the pilgrimage out to Salt Lake City for the annual Summer Outdoor Retailer Show. This is the big one, the trade show where all the big outdoor gear and clothing companies get together to huck their wares. From clothing to kayaks to camping to car racks, if you bought something at an outdoor type store chances are, they bought it here first. And when I say this is the big one, I mean really big. How big? I spent three solid days walking the floor and still didn't see everything before I had to fly back out on Sunday. Of course, a lot of my days at the show are spent meeting with companies we already do business with. And a good chunk of my time is eaten away finding the kegs that get tapped in the afternoon (between 50 & 60 kegs a day). I also spend a portion finding the latest cool stuff for my wife. But all that aside, it's a really, really, really big show with lots and lots and lots of products you already knew about and even more you didn't.

Day 1 Wednesday

Nicole and I fly out of Oakland at 6am (which makes for a 3am wake up call at our house). We take a taxi to the Salt Palace, check in, grab the shuttle bus to the lakeside demo day in Park City and take a breath. We arrive at the lake where the shore is littered with a hundred pop up tents and the water is choked with a thousand or so SUPs, kayaks and canoes.
We put on our shorts and try a few new different this n' that, make the rounds chatting up old friends, reps and manufacturers and walk back and forth along the beach for what seems like a hundred or so times before taking a small break for sustenance. As we stand in line for lunch someone puts a band around our wrists for five free beers while testing boats and the like. Safety always the watchword, some MBA decided six would simply be too many but five might help buyers to step up the decision making process.

Soon the wind picked up and the temperature began to plummet. Enthusiasm for being on the water began to wane and by three-thirty, everybody began packing it in. Thule Car racks had invited us up to the Park City Olympic Village for a small shindig so we hopped a cab from a lake to the mountain and watched future Olympic ski jumpers practice jumps in August by skiing down wet astro trurf and flipping themselves wildly into the biggest swimming pool I've ever seen in my life. Larry Hewitt, Thule's sales manager, showed up ahead of the rest of the crowd and we jumped in his rig for a ride to the near top of the bobsled run where dinner and drinks were waiting. There were probably a total of thirty of Thule's best dealers coming to this little soiree but they were all still down the hill so Nicole, one of Thule's Canadian engineers and myself had a glass wine and made the final hike up to the top. After a very brief safety speech, we donned our helmets and piled in like puppies behind the driver for our first run down mountain. 100 seconds, 4Gs and 70mph later were at the bottom of the run with our adrenaline pumping off the charts waiting for someone to ask us to the podium so we could except our Gold Medal.

After another hour or so of dinner, drinks, and another run down the old bobsled track, we then backtracked to the world's largest pool where dessert, more drinks and the US Freestyle team was waiting to give us an unbelievable private ski jump show. My salad spinner at home does fewer 360s than these guys. To say the least, it was truly impressive. I don't know if Thule will ever get the cost of the party out of us in the next ten years, but they don 't have to ask twice for an order.

Day 2 Thursday

The actual show opens for retailers to walk the floor at 9am. I always try to schedule an appointment around 8am so I can get an extra hour in the day. First thing this morning I meet with Thule. Of course I want to see the new products for 2012 but I also want to see what kind of beer they're keeping in their portable fridge. That done, we're off to Sawyer to hear the latest in the world of wood. About this time Kellogg shows up and we devise a plan to divide and conquer the show. The problem with this show is, while the Salt Palace is a huge venue, there are more vendors than floor space. The fine folks who put on the show don't want to say no to a single check so they put vendors in every single space available. Walk in the Men's room and open a stall and you may have to sit next to a model explaining the advantages of world's first foot creme made from bat guano. We spend the day moving between appointments and just walking the floor trying to see what's new. I remember as a kid someone asking if I thought there were more stars in the sky or grains of sand. Today you would throw in a third possibility for good measure: Shoe Manufacturers. What can I say? There are a lot. I mean…A…LOT.

Meetings with Sawyer, Level 6, Thule, MTI, Camelbak, Delta Kayaks.

We head out for dinner after the show, avoiding the industry parties that fill the evening, and walk back to our room for the night. We were staying four blocks away, which in Salt Lake City is just shy of six miles.

Day 3 Friday

We arrive at the Salt Palace in time for our meeting with Surftech. They have a dozen or so new boards. Race boards. Surf boards. Flatwater boards. We chat a while with Joe Bark as he explains his latest designs and I'm doing my best to pay attention. The new boards look great. I'm sure they're everything he says they are. But I'm waiting to see one SUP above all others: The B1. Surftech's bomber new stand up paddleboard. It looks awesome, has plenty of volume for the big guy like myself but more than anything else, the B1 is virtually indestructible. Nicole and Jeff both beat on it with a baseball bat. The designer (260lbs) and myself (225lbs) stood on the ends and rocked it back and forth like a teeter-totter. I couldn't scratch it or chip it, break it or dent it AND it was only 26lbs. We bought the last 10 of their first production run. And it's made where? In California. California, USA in case you were wondering.

After that, it's more walking the show. More appointments with vendors. More looking for kegs.

Meetings with Surftech, Necky/Ocean Kayak/Old Town, Wilderness Systems/Perception/Dagger, NRS, AquaBound/Bending Branches and finally...

Our last appointment for the day is with Stohlquist. Again, lifejackets and dry tops have a fresher look. Everything is a little bit more fashion forward. The kayaking and rafting marketplace has taken a great big hint from the surf industry - it wouldn't kill us to be a little bit more hip. More beer. Some cocktails. Dinner. Nicole and Jeff fly back to California.

Day 4 Saturday

Drink a pot of coffee at some cafe halfway to the Salt Palace (river mile 5 or so). Grab another cup of coffee on the way in the so that I'm shaking violently for my first appointment with Astral Buoyancy. Can't hardly hold a lifejacket. Talking so fast the southern boys have no idea what I'm saying. Decide maybe I should stick with water while waiting for the kegs to get tapped. Begin walking the floor. Finally find the New Vendor Pavilion. Find some great new stuff. Also find a clothing company my wife loves. Make a point to come back and buy something before heading out the door. Two hours later, can't find the booth to save my life. Sorry honey, maybe next year.

Run back to the Salt Palace for my appointment with Kokatat. The new sales manager came over from Horny Toad and you can really tell. Kokatat has a new line of paddle gear still made in the USA and looks awesome. I'm super impressed and super happy. The more Made in USA we can sell, the happier I always am.

Walk the show. Walk the show. Walk the show. Watershed, Summit, Imagine, Sealect Designs, Patagonia, SeaLife, Blue Ridge, FCS, Victory, Rusty, WRSI, Mysterioso, Walk, walk, walk. Show, show, show. Meet with Liquid Logic. Have a beer. Clocks ticking. Try to think of what it is I still need to see. Make my way there. They're gone. But there's a beer next door so it's worth the effort. Look at my watch. Wave to old friends on my way out the door. Get a taxi. Hop a flight. Drive home.

Four solid days and still I didn't get to see everything. I can tell you this. I saw plenty. Plenty of good things. And plenty examples where somebody tried to reinvent the wheel. I'm not so sure a triangle makes a better wheel, but good luck to 'em. The overall feel of the show is that the world is becoming a better place economically - at least for those of us selling a good time outside. Manufacturers are reinvesting in better fabrics. Retooling for better products. Overall the outdoor industry looks pretty darn good.

Stop by the shop sometime or check out our website. We picked up a lot of great new gear and clothes. Everything but the three sided wheel.

SUP Yoga with Mr. Stiffy

2011-07-16T17:42:00.000-07:00

     I'm about as flexible as congress. To say that I am bit tight is like saying the Hindenburg was a bit flammable. With more than a bum knee and a partial drop foot, I walk - as my friends like to say – like I have a rock in my shoe. Years of walking crooked has left me a bit out of whack but I've always gotten by and made the best of it. However, as I near the half century mark I find some things, like getting out of bed, a bit harder to do. I've tried yoga a couple of times in the past 20 years and each attempt at sticking with it has been met with quick failure.

            The SUP craze has become the fastest growing part of our business and I've taken to it like a duck to water. Combining two of my favorite passions, surfing and paddling, stand up paddling has allowed me to stay out of a kayak and paddle with my knee in a more comfortable position. SUP surfing, SUP racing and just plain SUP cruising have found a friend in Tom Meckfessel. But when someone mentioned SUP yoga I turned a deaf ear – something that my co-workers (Jeff and Scotto) say I’m very good at.

            I first saw SUP Yoga being demonstrated at the Sea Trek beach in Sausalito by Leigh Claxton. Leigh is a fitness guru that has embraced stand up paddling as a great means to get in shape, improve balance, work on core strength and enjoy being on the water. We got to talking and she told me that SUP Yoga was really growing in popularity. She had already put more than 200 people through her classes at Sea Trek and lead two SUP Yoga / Touring trips in Baja. In all that time, she'd only had two people fall off when doing yoga on a SUP. Even more surprising, some people that have a hard time doing yoga on the ground have an easier time doing it on a SUP. “I know it’s really hard to believe but you just have to try it”

            Now, I know that Stand Up Paddling is something that just about anyone can do and the biggest misconception is that you are going to fall off. Personally, I've taught countless introductory SUP classes and have only had one person take a swim (that does not include the kids classes where jumping off the board seems to be part of the curriculum). But the concept of dong yoga poses on a SUP just seemed like you were asking for a tumble into the water. Leigh convinced me that I was missing the boat if I didn't offer SUP yoga classes so I conned my partners into buying a fleet of Surftech Bamboozle boards (a beautiful all around SUP), a trailer, 10 paddles, 10 anchors and 10 leashes and got the program going.

            I figured that if I am going to talk the walk then I better walk the talk so I decided to participate as best as I could. On a beautiful Sunday morning my girlfriend Molly and I took the boards down to the Turning Basin on the Petaluma River and joined our instructor, Aluxa, and three other eager participants for Clavey’s first SUP Yoga class. It was sunny and warm and we spent an hour doing yoga on the SUPs and to be honest it was amazingly easy and very relaxing. The aspect of floating on the water while balancing during a pose was fantastic and while I’m still not a yoga groupie (and probably won't be rushing out to buy a pair of capris and a skin tight belly shirt), I could see myself doing this a few times a week. All I can say is you just have to try it. Jeff and Scotto both know, If I can do it, anyone can do it.

-Tom "Hop-a-long" Meckfessel

“Quality Hanging Out Time” on Fish Creek

2011-06-14T22:05:00.000-07:00

The entire time frame of an adventure can be broken into bits and pieces and, in particular, dots that mark significant turning points. There is always a first dot, the starting point, and a final dot, which marks the end of your journey. Each decision you make (another dot) often has a profound effect upon the remaining dots yet to be made. If your adventure involves kayaking or rafting, your journey normally ends as expected, at the final dot, someplace known as a “take-out” or access point along the bank of a river.

In a small clearing we rested. “How far above the creek do you think we are?” I asked Garret. The answer was maybe 100 feet or so. Not much, but it was steep and rocky, with a small cliff to start out, and we didn’t have a static line so our z-drag was going extra slow. It had taken three of us exactly three hours to move ourselves, our boats, and other miscellaneous items approximately 100 feet up and out of Fish Creek. We rested; and as we stared off in various directions I started picturing the dots that had led us to what was now a significant turning point in our little adventure.

It had started off about as normal as it gets for a group of people looking to get outside on some of Oregon’s rivers during Memorial Day Weekend. We’d run the Upper Rogue and from there headed over to the North Umpqua. We still had Monday to go boating and on Sunday afternoon the itch for an adventure hit some of us like a bad case of poison oak. I remember specifically saying something about wanting to find a creek off the beaten path. Willie, who is familiar with the area, said there was such a creek just six miles up the road from us. We drove over Fish Creek that evening and were ecstatic to see a good flow underneath the bridge. Our map showed a road that led right to the water and would give us about a five-mile run. Our adventure had been found and dot number one had sprouted.

Around the campfire that night we looked over our not-in-depth-at-all Oregon road map that had contour lines for every 300 feet in elevation. It seemed that there would be two particularly interesting sections on the creek. The first was within a quarter-mile of where we were putting in and the second was about a mile-and-a-half into the run where the creek would drop 300 feet in less than half a mile.

The next morning we packed up and drove to the put-in. The creek looked great. Dana, who was doing our shuttle and not at all enthused by our fabulous adventure, always asks me what time she should call for help. “What do you think? Six hours?” she asked. It was 10:00 and the whole run was only five miles long. We were all motivated to get it done quickly because of the drive back to Ashland. I thought for a second and replied, “Don’t get worried until it starts to get dark.” We pushed off. She drove back to the campground. And so it began.

It wasn’t long before we came to a fairly significant horizon-line-jumble-of-rocks-log-gnarl. We pulled over on river-left and hiked downstream about a third of a mile. We’d be lining and portaging this one - all of it. But other than the huge drops, sieves, and logs it looked like it would have been a great rapid! So there remained a glimmer of hope for what remained downstream.

Portaging around the first significant rapid, photo by Garret Smith:

Lining the boats. Photo by Garret Smith:

That glimmer came to life briefly as we managed to scrape a mile or so downstream without significant portaging or lining. The rapids were tight and technical and a few had some nice drops. But we weren’t making good time. We stopped and scouted everything and we did get hung up in a few places. Then, very suddenly, we came to a corner that reeked of heinousness.

The creek pooled up as it rounded a left-hand bend and slipped underneath a pile of logs. We stopped again on the left bank and my brother Skip and I started hiking. I stayed high and went quite a ways downstream. It looked like we’d be lining this one for sure, and I couldn’t see the end of it as the creek disappeared around a right turn. Garret joined us and mentioned he thought we could line along the left bank. It was now crunch time – we were definitely pushing the clock to get out before dark. It was after 2:00 and we probably had not gone more than two miles. If things continued like this we’d be in trouble. We decided to get back to the boats and begin the process of moving downstream.

Willie and Garret took to moving the small Avon while Brandon, Skip, and I worked on the much larger Vanguard. We moved as quickly as possible and had made it to where the creek began bending right when I heard a whistle blast, looked downstream, and saw Willie motioning for us to join him and Garret 100 feet down river. They did not look stoked. From where they stood the rapid not only continued to be huge, but it actually got steeper. In fact we were standing on a significant waterfall and it appeared that there was another one just downstream. What time was it? 3:00, which meant maybe three hours before it would start to get dark. We knew from looking at the map that there was a road on river-right roughly 500-600 feet above the river maybe one mile away.

Our choice was to either to risk continuing downstream and maybe not getting out before dark (and probably footing a search and rescue bill) or bailing on the trip, sending two people out to contact Dana to let her know all is well, and hiking the boats and gear out. We chose the latter. Put a dot there.

The first step in the process was to get the boats from river-left to river-right above a huge drop. Garret and Brandon went back upstream, crossed over the logjam, caught throw bags that were attached to the rafts, and pulled them across the creek into a small micro-eddy at the base of a cliff. When we re-grouped on river-right it was decided that Willie and Brandon would hike out while Garret, Skip, and I would begin the process of getting the boats started on what was sure to be an absolute nightmare of an experience.

And so there we sat, three hours later, a measly 100 feet above the river in a small clearing surrounded by tall trees. “Well according to the map the road is in that direction,” I said. We decided to go look for it. There was no way we would be getting the gear out tonight, we’d have to save it for tomorrow, but there was no reason for us stay with it until then especially since we didn’t know where the road was.

We started walking through the dense woods. “Holy shit…” all three of us muttered. We tilted our heads upward and stared at an enormous 300+ foot cliff that emerged through the trees. “Maybe there’s a way around it if we go further downstream?” We started hiking along the base of the bastard. After about a half-mile we took a break and then heard whistle blasts from back upstream. We returned them and soon were reunited with Willie and Brandon. They had found a steep and narrow gulley up the cliff, had found the road, hiked to the highway where they hitched a ride, and had caught Dana as she was driving in the opposite direction to the Ranger Station. That was a huge relief. They showed us their route and it wasn’t long before we were back in a truck headed to the campground.

That night we came up with a plan to get the gear out. The first step was getting a static line. Willie called a friend in Roseburg (Greg) who, not only lent us a rope and a bunch of extra climbing gear, but he drove it up to us that night (THANK YOU!). Our plan involved moving the gear in stages that would take a few laps each. From the small clearing we would move everything to the base of the cliff. From the base of the cliff we would z-drag everything up the gulley as far as the rope could go. We’d then reset the z-drag at the top of the gulley and get everything to the top. From there, it would be a quarter mile to the road. I figured we’d be lucky to get everything to the top of the cliff and would have to come back later that week to get it the rest of the way out.

Getting the boats ready for the hike out. Photo by Garret Smith:

Of course it rained all night and was especially cold the following morning. We packed up camp and left around 8:00 a.m. Got down to the boats around 9:00. We rolled the Vanguard so that it had four carry loops and then “one-two-three’d” it for an hour and a half to the base of the cliff. Up and over fallen trees, gaining elevation over huge boulders, squeezing it between narrow gaps between the cliff and trees, it somehow – magically - ended up at the base of the cliff. Next we went back for the Avon (which is about half the weight of the Vanguard) and the remainder of the gear. By 11:30 we had everything at the base of the cliff.

The z-drag went smooth. We had 180 feet of rope and nearly used the full length twice so the gulley was around 350 feet from top to bottom. It was 1:30 by the time everything was at the top. We were exhausted. It took two more hours to move everything to the road but we got it done by 3:30, exactly 24 hours after Willie and Brandon had begun their hike out to reach Dana.

There are few adventures I have been on where reaching the final dot has been so challenging and there are even fewer adventures I have been on where it has felt so rewarding. Normally, your final dot is at a place you’ve planned on. Perhaps the difference between an adventure and a misadventure is landing on a dot you weren’t expecting. And when that happens you must make decisions that make your future dots easier. Despite creating an absolutely heinous situation for ourselves we did overcome a tremendous challenge in avoiding injury, getting 100% of our equipment out of a tough spot, and staying positive. In order to accomplish those three things we made some good decisions after making one really bad one, which was putting on with limited beta on the run.

We arrived back in Ashland around 8:00 p.m. that night. Skip had gone back to Eugene so Willie and Garret helped unload the gear into my yard. Garret was headed back home to Shasta. Other than this weekend, we’d hardly spent much time together aside from a day of touring breweries in western Montana (actually that’s a good story too – maybe another time). When you go through an experience like we had it brings out everyone’s spirit, demeanor, and who they truly are; which is maybe what he meant when he responded to my apology about putting him through such a physically heinous ordeal with “Don’t apologize Will, I feel like we had some quality hanging out time together.” He’s right – when it comes down to it all of us involved in this adventure did spend some quality time together - and we won’t soon forget it.

This story would not be possible without the fine products made by Clavey Paddle Sports (Avon), Vanguard Inflatables, Kokatat (drysuits), and Columbia (great new water shoes: "Drainmaker").

The biggest “Thanks” of all goes to the guys who were part of this adventure. Skip Volpert, Garret Smith, Brandon Worthington, and Willie Long – your attitudes and physical capabilities are two things I will always be grateful for. And Greg, in Roseburg who lent us the rope, additional equipment, and drove it to us – we honestly could not have done it without you. Also, it takes quite the lady to put up with these so-called adventures week after week. Thank you, Dana, for always being there (and especially for not leaving early to contact S&R!).

Lastly, the photos used in this blog post are courtesy of Garret Smith. He’s a phenomenal photographer and a visit to his website would be well worth your time. Check it out at http://dirtmyth.blogspot.com/

Written by Will Volpert, owner of Indigo Creek Outfitters based out of Ashland, Oregon.

From left to right: Skip Volpert, Willie Long, Will Volpert, and Garret Smith. Photo by Garret Smith:

Day on the River

2011-06-07T08:45:00.001-07:00

June 21st is the official start of summer. So it would stand to some sort of reason that the beginning of June would feel at least a little summerish. Maybe not in Saskatchewan or Iceland but certainly here in California. Instead we scratched a new month down on our calendars: Junuary. And so it was on Saturday, Junuary 4th, with pouring rain and 50º that we sat in the shop looking out at the trailer we needed to load with kayaks and stand up paddleboards for the Petaluma Day on the River the following morning.

Hosted by PSC3 ( the Petaluma Small Craft Center Coalition) - a group of like minded individuals of which we are a part, working to build a community boat house on the Petaluma river - the Petaluma Day on the River is an annual event where anyone who wants, can come down to the water's edge and try out any number of watercraft all day long. This year there were outrigger canoes, rowing shells, rowing dories and water bikes. Clavey added a dozen kayaks, a half dozen stand up paddleboards to the fray as well as a single lonesome canoe.

All our fears of bad weather were for naught (more or less) as the sun was almost breaking through the clouds when we showed up to hump boats over to the dock at 7:30 am. By 9am we had our little fleet of boats on the water and ready to go. Leigh Claxton, our stand up paddleboard yoga instructor, had an on-the-water demo starting at 9:30 but because of the weather report, her group of fair-weather yogettes had mostly all abandoned her for the comfort of their beds and some hot coffee. Our kayak tour guide, Aluxa, and a woman I refer to affectionately as "The Wife", were not to be dissuaded and were met with practically perfect conditions when they paddled out onto the mighty Petaluma for an hour and a half of SUP Yoga. Boga Paddleboards had built these sups specifically for yoga on the water and when I saw Leigh floating by on a headstand, I thought they had probably achieved their goal.

As the weather never did get bad and was, for the most part, almost perfect for the day, the docks began to fill with individuals and families excited about getting on the water. Ever safety conscious, Jeff was sure to tell people only to go up as far as the footbridge or down to the Coast Guard boat. I was a little more vague, suggesting people might turn around if they hit San Pablo Bay.

Clavey does a lot of tours, classes and demos and this opportunity to put people on the water with PSC3 is one of our favorites. Because it's free and there are so many different watercraft to try, we really see the community come out and take advantage of this local resource they so often otherwise overlook. Between the SUPs, kayaks, canoes, outriggers and rowing shells, Petalumans really had a chance to see the city the way we see it everyday - from the water.

Over all it was a great day with no swimmers and nothing but smiling faces. Towards the end of the day, I did put a number of smallish children on sups and watched as they scattered like dandelions on the wind. I only did this because Tom's got a real herding instinct and gets grumpy if he doesn't get his exercise. It was fun sitting on the dock watching as Tom raced up and down the river corralling young children back to the dock.

And of course, no day on the water would be complete without a frosty cold one waiting for us at the end.

A boy and his poodle.

2011-05-31T17:42:00.000-07:00

My wife says I can be a little heavy on the testosterone. To balance that out, she insists I take the poodle out in public. Luckily, it's too big for the front basket on my bike. So, I try to take the poodle for a hike. But at some point it simply stops moving forward, usually halfway between where we started from and and where we're going. Taking the poodle for a walk is bad enough. Taking the poodle for a drag is punishment for something I did in a past life. In Golden Gate Park, I've watched enviously as dozens of men, women and even children are pulled through the park by their dogs on their skate boards. Of course, those are dogs, not poodles.

Fortunately, at Clavey, we started getting into stand up paddleboards around the same time I began courting my wife. This meant, that by the time her poodle officially became my step-poodle, I already had a sport I could share with my new four legged friend and her ridiculous haircut.

And for these little adventures my stand up paddleboard of choice is the Surftech French 11'6" soft top. Wide, stable and with a nice soft, grippy deck covering the entire deck - stem to stern, rail to rail. This is the perfect family board - even if the members of your family literally have two left feet.

Fishing the Miserable but staying Warm and Dry

2011-05-24T12:23:00.000-07:00

The 5th annual Gimme Shelter Kayak Fishing Tournament was on May 15th. This is the rockfish opener for the northern zone in Shelter Cove, California. Ninety-three registered anglers were due to arrive with a report of a storm moving in late on May14th, with rain and wind and snow at the higher elevations. I arrived at Shelter Cove on the 14th and the weather was great. Blue skies, mild temps and no wind. Could the weatherman be wrong? Not a chance. By 2am on the 15th the rain started beating against the camper shell letting me know that it was going to be an average May Nor-Cal day. We wouldn't really want it any other way I think. A real test of equipment, stamina and fishing ability (notice I left out common sense).

At 5am the alarm goes off and I sit there listening to the rain and wind slapping the kayak straps against the shell. You know those times you're all snuggled up in your sleeping bag - its cold and windy and you just want to stay there and have mommy bring you a nice hot cup of cocoa? Hah! I begrudgingly shake off the warmth of my bag and begin rooting around in the truck for my Kokatat T3 SuperNova Angler Paddling Suit and my layers of fleece. Minutes later I'm dressed and more important, I'm warm. After a little coffee and a bite to eat, I start rolling my kayak towards the launch area. Remarkably, I had the foresight to rig all my fishing equipment the night before so I was pretty happy about one less thing to do in the pouring rain. We get the whole lot of us down to the waters edge and then, BANG, let's go!

Paddling out of Shelter Cove is pretty tricky as there are some reefs that at high tide are not exposed but with a big swell they turn into boilers. Getting out and around I get out into the wind and swell. There's a 5-7 ft SW swell with a 3-4 NW swell and nice biting wind around 7 knots out of the south. Dark skies with a forecast for rain that I think we are most assured of. The water temp is a brisk 47 degrees. Cold and clear.

At around 7am I start fishing. I like to fish with my feet straddling the kayak for improved stability. As the day goes on my feet get cold but stay dry (the SuperNova Angler has built in waterproof socks). Had I worn some thicker socks I would have been perfect. Regardless, my core was warm and toasty and my hands stayed warm even without gloves because my blood was still running well to my extremities.

As the day wears on, more and more anglers are on the radio complaining of cold and losing feeling in their hands and feet. Some start shaking and are having trouble paddling in. Two guys capsize. No one is hurt and everyone makes it back to the beach okay.

This is the very first time I've worn my new Kokatat T3 SuperNova Paddling Suit out on the water and I'm telling you it made all the difference in the world that day. Where as people were falling by the wayside, I had no issues fishing the whole tournament up until the cutoff time at 2pm. Still warm, still dry. Amazing!

I caught 5 specie out of the possible 7. With the size I caught and the fact I received bonus points for releasing all fish, I managed to take 2nd place out of 93 anglers. The man who finished first caught 6 specie including a monster Pacific halibut that went 40lbs and over 47 inches. So I felt good about my placing. If not for the monster halibut I would have taken 1st. That's fishing folks.

I ended up wearing the SuperNova Angler the whole rest of the day as the rain just did not let up. In fact, I wore it right up until bedtime, when I peeled it off to find I was still nice and dry and just climbed into the bag and drifted off happy and warm. I was already a big fan of Kokatat from various paddle jackets, pants and PFDs I'd bought in the past, but now I'm the big born again Kokatat convert - Step right up ladies and gentlemen! See the fisherman stay warm and dry right before your very eyes!

So I'll tell you the same thing I've been telling all my buddies at the norcalkayakanglers, if you're fishing in inclement weather, buy yourself a T3 SuperNova Angler Paddling Suit. They're not giving them away but just one day warm and dry instead of cold and wet and you'll sure be glad you did.

Now all I need is some of those Chota Mukluks.

Thanks Kokatat!

Craig Davis, Ocean Kayak Pro fishing staff / Team Clavey

Dutch Oven Cooking with the D.O. Diva

2011-05-06T14:25:00.000-07:00

DAWN RACHEL is a dutch oven diva, a camp-cook contessa who, between guiding ﬂyﬁshing trips in Montana and Idaho, works as a river cook for hire. Formerly a cook on Alaskan ﬁshing boats, once Rachel was inspired by renowned Dutch oven cook C.W. “Butch” Welch, she delved into the art of packing and cooking for high-desert river trips, and never looked back. Quick to laugh and tell a story, Rachel is just as willing to share her secrets on the ﬁner points of canyon cooking. — Rob Lyon

FIRST, GET A GOOD SET OF DUTCH OVENS. Critical to easy food prep on the river is a good set of ovens. I like aluminum ovens because they’re lightweight and don’t have to be seasoned like cast iron. Traditionalists like cast iron, which is usually cheaper and heats more evenly. GSI makes some great aluminum ovens and they’re hard anodized.

CONSIDER HOW IT PACKS. When I say a set, I’m talking about two nesting units that stack and pack nicely together; the 10-inch ﬁts inside the 12-inch. They make great dishpans and they clean up easily. Basically, you can do all your frying, boiling, sautéing, roasting and baking with the Dutchies and never need to carry another pan. I take a 14-inch oven along with the other two for big trips.

THINK OUTSIDE THE OVEN. I also pack a lighter stick and welding gloves with the ovens, so when we reach the beach I’m ready to cook. Even on small trips I like a big kitchen that makes me feel at home. And get some ﬂat nylon cutting mats to help organize and consolidate prep and cleanup.

GET ORGANIZED. A notebook is a must for preplanning and reﬁning the menu and grocery lists. Keep notes of what you were going to cook, what you actually cooked, what worked and what didn’t. Make note of quantities you may have misjudged, so you’ll get portions right on your next trip. It’s good to plan ahead for whatever spontaneous menu items may arise, like a birthday cake. Don't be afraid to start with a good dutch oven cook book.

CREATE A MENU WITH PANACHE. In other words, make it sound good as well as taste good: Cajun-style blackened bass ﬁllets, pork roast and potatoes with cherry chutney, mango upside-down cake, brown beer bread, game birds with wild and brown rice and veggies, huckleberry dump cake, the list goes on.

PRACTICE. Now get cooking. You can cook stovetop if you have to, but try and use briquettes so you can learn to regulate your heat and cooking time with them. Pretty soon you’ll be thinking of that roast chicken as a 10-briquette meal.

This blog was reprinted with permission from Canoe & Kayak Magazine

The Surftech Dominator - a review

2011-05-04T16:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes bigger is better……

This morning I took Surftech's new Joe Bark Dominator out for a quick paddle. Quick is the operative word. Here is a brief review:

Over the last year I've entered a few SUP races in the stock (12’6” and under) class. No – I never have won (in fact last time I got beat by a guy with his 40lb dog on the front of his board), but my finishes were respectable (meaning I was never last). When you are doing one of these races everyone starts at the same time, including those in the “open” class (any length over 12’6”) and it’s quite a scene. Even though I understand the science behind it, I'm still constantly amazed just how much faster the longer boards actually are. At the end of all of these races the paddlers on the open class longer boards are often a half-mile ahead of the fastest stock class paddlers. With the arrival of the new Bark Dominator here at Clavey HQ, I finally got a chance to take one of these longer board for a spin.

My normal “fitness” paddle consists of heading down to the Petaluma River with one of our demo SUPs and paddling from the turning basin to the marina and back. I think it's around 3 miles or so but have never actually clocked it with a GPS. The board I usually use is the 12’6” Bark Competitor because I always felt like it was the fastest board out there. Full disclosure: I have more than a bit of a competitive obsessive-compulsive behavior that comes into play when I do this paddle. I tend to only do it early when there is no wind and I keep a log of my times and am always trying to beat the last.

This morning, conditions were perfect with not a breath of wind and a slight incoming tide to help push me back on the home stretch. I installed a Rainbow 9” Thresher Fin in the our shiny new 14’ Dominator and hauled all 26lbs of it down to the river. Once there, I tossed the board in the river, climbed on, set my iPod to 11, started my stopwatch and took off sprinting. Once I start my watch I tend not to stop for anything – not even to change my iPod that was mistakenly set on one of my daughters playlists. So with some god awful teeny pop blaring in my ears I got the board up to speed.

One of the first things I notice was how great the board tracked. I don’t think I've ever paddled a board that was so easy to keep straight. All my paddling effort could be used to build up speed instead of directional corrections. Slight, simple edging was all that was needed to change direction. Once up to speed the Dominator was truly amazing. Unlike a shorter board that seems to reach a hull speed where you are stuck no matter how hard you paddle, the Dominator actually got up on a plane and from there just kept speeding up the harder I paddled.

This aspect made it more exciting - and challenging. My best time before using the Dominator was 36 minutes flat. At my halfway point where I turn around (a slow task on a 14’ board) I was at 15 minutes! This only increased my desire to go faster – especially when Lady GaGa started edging me on. At my invisible finish line with my imaginary crowds cheering me on I clocked in at 31 minutes. A difference of 5 minutes in a 3-mile paddle is pretty significant.

I think I've found my new workout board….until something faster comes along.

Guide to the Cherry Creek/Upper and Main Tuolumne River

2011-04-28T16:07:00.000-07:00

Finally, the guide we've been waiting for. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: the RiverMap Guide to the Cherry Creek/Upper and Main Tuolumne River.

Duwain Whitis and his ever popular RiverMap guide book series has just released guide for the "T". This "Guide to the Cherry Creek / Upper and Main Tuolumne River" is the long awaited, complete guide to one of our personal favorites. Duwain teamed up with Terry Wright, local "T" expert and professor emeritus of Geology at Sonoma State University, to compile the most complete Tuolumne Guide ever published. This is a large format (9" x 14") waterproof RiverMap that includes complete USGS topo maps along with a thorough mile by mile guide.

The Tuolumne RiverMap begins with general information of the river including history, geology, plants and wildlife. The actual mile by mile guide "goes with the flow" and is oriented so the river flows upward - no more turning your map upside down or twisting your head to read it. Info on the Clavey now in stock at Clavey!

Leopard Shark vs Kayaking Veterinarian

2011-04-12T16:03:00.000-07:00

Battle Royale!

My back hurts. Partially because I broke it in college. Partially because I refuse to get in better shape. Partially because I spend all day lifting kayaks. But mostly I think my back hurts because my wife is always on it about wanting to go do something fun. Mind you, it's not like we spend our days off sitting in front of the TV wondering what stellar advice Dr. Phil has that we can't live without. Quite the contrary. In the past month for example, we've spent two weekends skiing Tahoe, one weekend SUPing San Francisco Bay, one weekend SUPing Bodega Bay and one weekend hiking the coast. Needless to say, I have to be careful not to mention anything even remotely interesting or she'll ride me like a two dollar mule until we go do it.

"I heard the leopard sharks are breeding in Drake's Estero", I let slip two thirds into a particularly potent cocktail. That's how my Sundays get filled. A casual utterance of the tongue is considerably more binding than any UN resolution in our house. Fortunately, I'd been wanting to try Native Watercraft's new recreational touring kayak, the Inuit, and this would give me the chance to kill two sea birds with one big heavy stone: Test a boat & satisfy a wife.

As I carried the boats down to the water I noticed something about them right off - they're not light. Native uses the same plastic for their sea kayaks as they use for their Liquid Logic whitewater boats. The down side is, it's heavier. The upside is, it's more rigid. This makes for a boat that's faster on the water and less likely to oilcan on the car. Advantages for sure. Once we were on the water, I quickly forgot about those few paltry pounds because the Inuit's 5 Star Seating is as comfortable as anything made from genuine Corinthian leather. I would, in fact, say that the Inuit is the single most comfortable kayak I have ever sat in. Of course, I've only been kayaking regularly since 1992, so my experience is limited, but I would go on to say that the Native Watercraft Inuit seat has "all day comfort". A happy back can have no price tag.

Pushing off from the beach I quickly began seeing leopard sharks in the shallows under my butt. And these weren't those little twelve inchers you see at the aquarium in your dentist's waiting room. These guys were five and six feet long with teeth like machetes and laser beams shooting from their heads. Maybe they didn't really have laser beams. And I guess I didn't really see any teeth. Technically speaking, a leopard shark looks slightly less frightening than a catfish. But they were still big. And there were lots of them. Not so many however that Nicole saw any for the first two hours we were on the water.

"There's one", I would say to my lovely wife as I pointed directly in front of her kayak. "Where?", she'd respond, looking everywhere but where I was pointing. "There's another one. And another. My god woman, they're everywhere!" Nicole would whip her head back and forth like she was auditioning for the local production of Flashdance but to no avail. After a while I began to point and gasp even when there was nothing to see. Her mounting frustration at nature's elusive ways brought me to a barely contained case of the giggles. She of course would have the last laugh, and thus announced in a tone of authority that General Patton could never muster, that there would be more leopard sharks at the other end of the bay. And so we began to paddle. And paddle. And paddle.

Fortunately for me the hull of the Inuit is nice and fast and so I didn't have to work too hard as my wife drug me all over the back side of the Point Reyes National Seashore. And this is a bit of an oxymoron - the Inuit is both fast and stable. Two words I don't normally put together when describing kayaks. But more than anything else, I would describe the Inuit as comfortable. And that was a good thing, because there were no sharks at the end of the bay. Nor in the sloughs. Nor in the center. There were however, plenty back where we started from. And this time Nicole saw them all. This made her very happy. And of course if my wife's happy, well then, I'm definitely happy.

FYI: Drake's Estero is closed to boaters from March 1st - June 30 every year for the annual harbor seal pup-o-thon. The Leopard Shark Lovefest takes place in October/November.

Takin' Tahoe to Sausalito

2011-04-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

That is to say literally, taking a couple of Tahoe Stand Up Paddleboards to Sausalito for a little on the water fun.

We were originally going to get out of the house by 6am so we could go paddle the waterfront in San Francisco before an appointment I had at 11 am. A 6am departure from our house would realistically put us on the water under the Golden Gate bridge around 7:30. What wasn't realistic was leaving the house by six. On the water by 7:30? I was still fighting the cat for more covers at 7:30.

So by the time we rolled into the city by the bay, it was time for my appointment and by the time we got down to the water at Crissy Field it was almost two. Needless to say, the wind had picked up just a hair. We looked across the bay and darned if Sausalito didn't look as flat as my first girlfriend so we loaded our two vicious dogs back in the Subaru and headed back across the bridge going north.

Earlier that morning (earlier being a relative term) we stopped by Clavey and picked up a couple of Tahoe SUPs we had just received the week before. For the wife I grabbed Tahoe's women specific, Bliss. At a spritely 24lbs, I knew Nicole would love it regardless of our time on the water (and I was right). For myself I grabbed the Zephyr 12'6". I told Nicole I was using the 12'6" because it's the same length as the Bliss and therefore very similar in speed, but the truth is, Jeff had already put the fin on and I was too lazy to go find the fin for the Zephyr 14'.

When we got to Sea Trek's beach that afternoon, the weather was absolutely perfect. Unfortunately, there was no shade to be found and Nicole, as a concerned canine parent, was quite worried about roasting the puppies in the car. I told her dogs are cold blooded, like snakes, and they would love a nice hot car. Being a veterinarian, she argued that dogs are indeed warm blooded and would, in fact, expire if we left them for too long in a car in the California sun (who knew). So we decide to make our paddle a quick one. We were of course, worried about the dogs, but I was also worried about her purse, my wallet and the windows being rolled half way down. There are a lot of dogs in the world that prevent thieves from sticking their hands in open car windows for fear of pulling back a bloody stump, but I suspect our sub-standard poodle isn't one of them.

When we pushed off the beach Nicole was instantly impressed with the way the Tahoe Bliss tracked. I've always liked the way the Tahoe SUPs, in general, tracked. But what I've come to really love about their whole line of stand up paddleboards is how they're laid out for touring. Countersunk stainless attachment points both fore and aft mean I can easily tie down a dry bag or stow my flip flops under some bungees. Yes, of course, I like the light weight. Yes, I'm a fan of the tracking and the speed. Sure I like the design and the bamboo deck. But frankly it's being able to rig it like a boat that I like best of all.

We paddled deeper into Richardson Bay, harassing the local harbor seals along the way. Within 45 minutes we were back at the beach so we could let the dogs out of their little sauna on wheels. I hadn't thought to bring a pair of Buddy Pads, Tahoe's doggie SUP pad, but I did bring their lifejackets so we decided we try to take the dogs with us on another run out in the bay. Nicole used my towel so the poodle would feel comfortable (really, why would I want a dry towel?) and I took the aussie, who may sound like she's trying to communicate with whales, but doesn't move once she lays down.

We paddled out to San Francisco bay and back and I was definitely glad for it. After all, it isn't everyday you get to show your wife a twelve foot baby being raised by seagulls.

The Private Boater is Readily Earthquake Prepared

2011-03-26T08:53:00.000-07:00

"Why the California Rafter is Going to be Really Popular When the Big One Hits".

We were talking about Japan the other day (just like the rest of the world) and somebody mentioned the run on potassium-iodide tablets at the pharmacies. Then we started talking about the overall lack of preparedness in general here in the golden earthquake state. In our opinion, there's going to be two groups ready for the kind of disaster that shuts the whole state down: The first group is the survivalist nut job (no offense if this is you, I mean it in the most positive way possible). And the second (more socially acceptable group) is the private boater.

Now I know there's a bunch of backpackers out there who think they're just as ready as the whitewater rafter and maybe they are. But if you think you and your family are going to be happy stuffed in a ultralight tent, eating your freeze dried chili mac cooked over a 15 BTU single burner white gas stove, you might want to take a moment to think just a little harder.

The private boater on the other hand has everything a family needs to live comfortably for at least a week. Heck, if you're anything like me, you live better on the river anyway. So let's look at what's sitting in the garage waiting for the word go.

Shelter: Not only does the private boater have a nice big tent (its big because we're not worried about weight, only comfort), but we have an oversized wing shelter (or at least a huge tarp) as well. Of course, we'll be using our rafting oars to keep the shelter high enough that we can walk, talk, sit and cook comfortably. So rain or sun, we'll be doing alright.

Water: Maybe the main waterline is ruptured, but I don't know a single private boater who hasn't got at least three 5 gallon water jugs available. Fill 'em up. Put 'em away. Be ready.

Kitchen: The private boater has a serious outdoor kitchen ready to roll. You might have complained about the cost of your Partner stove when you bought it, but you won't be complaining when you pull it out from under a ton of collapsed crap from your garage without a scratch on it. Hook it up to one of your two 20lb propane tanks and you'll fire up 10,000 BTUs on each burner. That's more cooking power than most people have indoors. Plus, you've probably got a Partner Blaster as well. Need pasta water boiling quickly for the whole neighborhood? Put a match to the Blaster and its 120,000 BTUs will give you 5 gallons of boiling water in minutes. And you've already got a large cooler where you can store all those items that would otherwise spoil in your refrigerator

And when you're finished eating, you'll have a dish line ready to go. Using the exact same river camping equipment you've used on all those great trips down the Salmon and the Rogue, only this time the importance of having your dinnerware bacteria-free is even higher than usual.

Toilet: The world may collapse around you but if you and yours have a clean toilet and a sanitary way to dispose of your waste, you'll be living the high life compared to many, many others. Every private boater is ready for this. Whether you're using the rocket box with an EcoSafe, the PETT bag system or the Restop five gallon commode and bag system, you'll be self-contained and sanitary until things are on their way back to normal.

First Aid Kit: Luckily you won't have to scrounge around the house trying to find every band-aid and bottle of hydrogen peroxide you've got stuffed under one of your bathroom sinks somewhere. You've already got a first aid kit ready, probably in a Pelican Box, so its easy to grab, crush proof and watertight.

The headlamps, the watertight, rodent-proof dryboxes, the dutch ovens, the camp chairs, the paco pads - they're all items you'll need in the case of that really, really big disaster we've all been expecting and trying to pretend won't happen at the same time. And unlike guy who spends his weekends following Nascar, you the private boater, have everything you need already.

And if you don't, you'll be able to use the "big one" as your excuse to buy it.

Of course, the biggest advantage of being a private boater over a whacko survivalist is that the FBI isn't marking your name down on a list for surveillance even as you read this.

Whitewater Rafting Schools

2011-03-16T18:00:00.000-07:00

We love whitewater rafting--its the roots of our business. We started

guiding many years ago, and the hook was set. Guiding commercial trips led

to running the shop and setting up gear for trips with friends and family.

But rafting is a skill and gear intensive sport. Many of our customers began

rafting as commercial guides, thus giving them the skills to do trips on

their own. When they settle down a bit and get “real” jobs, the funds become

available to buy their own set of gear.

But what if you’ve never been a guide, and don’t want to become one? We can

help set you up with the appropriate gear to get you down the river, but the

necessary skills are another thing. Fear not, there is a way to get the

river skills--a commercial whitewater school. It used to be that these were

primarily oriented to training future guides, but many are now tailored for

the general public as well as future guides. If you’ve been rafting with a

commercial company before, or with self-outfitted friends and would like to

try it on your own, consider signing up for a whitewater school. Here are a

few of our friends and associates that run whitewater schools:

Kern River Outfitters: www.kernrafting.com <http://www.kernrafting.com>

All-Outdoors: www.aorafting.com <http://www.aorafting.com>

ARTA river trips: www.arta.org <http://www.arta.org>

ECHO: www.echotrips.com <http://www.echotrips.com>

Zephyr: www.zrafting.com<http://www.zrafting.com>

A number of other companies run whitewater schools--you’ll want to be sure to ask

them how their school is structured, i.e, is it done primarily in paddle

boats or oar boats, or both? Is it done from a base camp, or is it

expedition style? Many companies will be happy to send you their

instructional outline or curriculum before you commit.

Just be careful. This rafting stuff is highly addictive. And the staff at

Clavey is ever so happy to feed and enable your addiction.

Halibut Fishing in the North Bay

2011-03-11T17:39:00.000-08:00

Halibut in the Bay and on the Big Blue

By Craig Davis

Who wants to start thinking of Halibut in March? I do, I do! It’s an honest fact that Halibut are one of my favorite fish to catch (and not just because they taste so good). Halibut are solid fighters and when you finally get them to the kayak, well, that’s when the real fun starts. They have a real nice set of chompers and they love to snap at you sometimes when you’re trying to make the transition from the net or gaff to the game clip. And then, just when you think all is well on the home front, they can go ballistic out of nowhere and scare the bejesus out of you.

Halibut meat is light and flaky and tends to cook fast. Keeping a close eye on the cooking process will enable you to make sure that you don’t overcook this delicate flesh. If you do, it’s still not bad. But of course, it’s always better a bit on the moist side. Personally, I’m not a fan for a bunch of sauces or flavorings on the fish because it’s mild flavor. Poached or grilled with just a bit of butter is my cup of tea.

LOCATIONS

The San Francisco North Bay has some excellent spots for halibut. I don’t fish much in the South Bay so I can’t offer too much advice on that, but a quick peruse of the NCKA forums will give you plenty of recommendations. My favorite spots include the Alameda Rock Wall, Paradise Park, Muir Beach, Tomales Bay and Bean Hollow State Park.

BAIT

I’ve fished for these flat-faced flounders with both live bait and soft plastics. I know some people swear by frozen bait but that’s just never worked too well for me. For live bait I’ve used Shiner perch, Sardines, Anchovies, Smelt and Mackerel. Live shiners can be bought at the Loch Lomond bait shack in San Rafael or Mike’s Bait in Oakland. I go to Mike’s when I’m in the east bay and Loch Lomond when I fish Paradise or Muir.

In the warmer months you can also catch your own live bait in San Fransisco and Tomales Bays. Two years ago there was so much bait in Tomales Bay that we couldn’t stop fishing for Sardines and Mackerel because they were too fun to catch. Use a sabiki rig size number 8 or 10 with a small weight on the bottom on a light rod and when all the hooks load up with fish it’s crazy fun. Be sure to check the Fish and Game regulations for the areas you fish for live bait as the number of hooks you can use are different according to specific areas.

TIDES

The best tides to use are the lesser tides that have the least amount of movement when fishing in the bays. Me, I like fishing an incoming tide. In the ocean I also like to fish through the top of the tide as the water is a bit clearer giving the bait a better presentation to the fish.

FISHING

There are a few different ways to fish with your live bait. One is to use a three-way swivel. One eye of the swivel is connected to your mainline. One is connected to your leader. The last eye of the swivel is connected to a dropper line that has your weight attached to it. The length of the dropper is regulated by how fast you are drifting/trolling or the length of your leader. You always need to keep the bait just off the bottom so it does not foul in the mud or pick up debris (honestly, what self-respecting halibut wants to eat muddy bait?) Longer the leader, longer the dropper line. You want the weight to just tic the bottom every so often. If you are drifting too fast and the weight isn’t touching, try increasing the weight amount. In cloudy or stained water you can use a shorter leader and longer with better clarity.

The other way I like to fish live bait is on what’s called a Carolina rig. Above the end of your mainline I use a barrel weight with a red bead below it then tie a swivel at the end of the line. I use 20 lb. mainline so usually a 1-2 oz weight is enough. Then I tie a 36 inch leader of 25-30lb. test line. I use a 1/0 or a 2/0 Mutu light circle hook. With the larger baits I tie what’s called a stinger to the main hook to put in the tail of the baitfish so as not to miss short strikes from the halibut. In that case I snell knot the circle hook to the leader then with the tag end tie on a #4 2x treble in black finish.

MORE FISHING

If you have sonar on your kayak look for small drop-offs. Halibut I think for the most part are lurking predators that lie–in-wait for food. As you drift over the bottom they will race to the bait. Sometimes the bite is soft and other times they will hammer the bait violently. On soft bites, sometimes you can put your reel in free spool and sort of feed the bait till the rod tip loads up. Then lift the rod and it’s on. Don’t set the drag too tight. Let these fish run and get tired because YOU ARE going to have an experience when the fish gets to the kayak. I prefer using a net. Others swear by the gaff. I have yet to use a gaff in the kayak but I’m waiting for the day a halibut I’ve hooked will be too large for the net and I’ll go to the gaff. During the fight have your game clip at the ready to put through the gills and your club also ready for the knockout punch. After your fish is clipped always bleed out the fish by cutting the gills on both sides. It’s always best to bleed the fish for a better quality to the meat.

SAFETY

Always remember to stay within your level of water experience when fishing on the bay or in the ocean. Always have a buddy with you. Carry a radio and other safety equipment. A PFD (lifevest) is a must. Always, always dress for immersion. A short time in the water can lead to disaster and it has happened to even the best. There’s nothing like a little hypothermia to ruin an otherwise great day on the water.

WHERE TO FISH

Here’s a few of my favorite launches for fishing halibut: At the Alameda Rock Wall there’s a launch right next to Encinal High School with - no fee. Paradise Park, Marin County - $8 day use fee. I prefer to buy the annual park pass for Marin County as you can go a lot of places with this pass and save some dough for your bait. Miller Park (aka Nick’s Cove) in Tomales Bay is a great place to launch. Same fee as Paradise and the Marin County park pass is good here also. From here you can fish the other side of Hog Island, Pelican Point and the flats in front of Marshall for halibut.

Well that’s a pretty brief tutorial on halibut fishing. Go out and try it. Pull your first flatty onto your kayak and the halibut won’t be the only thing that’s hooked. You can also go to www.norcalkayakanglers.com for information and to meet other kayak fisher people. It’s a great place to enter the world of kayak fishing and meet new friends. Please feel free to E-mail me for questions or comment at ravensblack52@yahoo.com. Have a great day and FISH ON! -Craig.

Craig Davis is the latest proud addition to the Ocean Kayak Fishing Team here in Northern California. Two to three days a week he's on his Trident 15 teaching those fish a lesson in humility.

Trip Report and Boat Review

2011-03-07T10:05:00.000-08:00

My daughter Raini and I led 7 hearty souls who braved the rain on Sunday for a trip to the marsh cabins on the Petaluma River. In a constant drizzle and rain, we paddled through the marsh and tidal sloughs to an old duck hunters cabin. The marsh is a fascinating place to explore, with signs of life everywhere. Route finding is very critical though, take a wrong turn and you'll find yourself in a dead end. And you've got to pay attention to the tide as it can leave you high and dry very quickly.

On this trip I decided to test paddle the Delta 15.5 After spending a couple of hours paddling, here is a brief sketch of my impressions: beautiful attention to detail--the hatches are easy to use, lift handles are comfortable. The seat was easy to adjust and comfortable. For a 15' kayak with rudder, the boat is light and the length makes it easy to carry over your shoulder. It does decent lean turns, and I never deployed the rudder. The cockpit is generously-sized, making it a good choice for folks who don't want a keyhole-style cockpit. The Delta 15.5 isn't the fastest boat on the water, it combines stability with reasonable responsiveness and great load carrying capability.

Tuolumne river days and nights: a night in the Log Jam

2011-03-01T13:49:00.000-08:00

Some memorable times on the Tuolumne river--see the previous post to catch up on this story:

My early days on the "T", part two

Part 3 A night in the jam
The Rusty Sucker was back. But it barely made it through the logjam to hook up our train of rafts. The Sucker got about half way through the log jam before halting. From my perspective near the middle of the raft train, all I could see was Jethro and Ricky Bobby arguing, the iron rod alternating between clearing logs, pounding on the motor and being used in a threatening manner between the two “engineers”. It was getting late, and the dark clouds had made themselves at home right above our heads, with no breaks in the rain. Finally, the Sucker was restarted, but now it was clear it lacked the power to pull our rafts through the jam. It struggled to get itself out. And as it finally cleared the jam, I heard shouts of reassurance that they’d send help when they could.
Another hour passed, and I began to have thoughts that help might not come before darkness fell. The other outfitter, who had the writers with him was near the end of the jam. At some point he decided pull his boat out of the jam, row to shore and hike up the ridge and hitch back to the nearest town. As far as I could tell at the time most everyone else on the trip didn’t know this until seeing his boat tied up on the shore sometime later.
As the sun began to set that evening, a handful of cold wet bodies began to shiver in the impending darkness. Our lead guide made a decision at that point that our best option was to pull the boats to shore, through the jam as best we could and find a patch of rock to gather and build a fire. The logjam was deep with debris, and the lead guide, realizing that his lifevest might just prevent him from breaking through the jam took it off and jumped in with a bowline in his hand. He soon disappeared under a pile of debris, and a emerged a few yards from shore, bowline still in hand. Like a human Log Bronc, he pushed through and made it to shore. After securing the rope to a stout rock we all pulled like crazy to bring the rafts through to shore. Not wanting to risk spending any more time in the log jam than necessary, it was decided that an experienced guide would hike out to insure help would be on the way.

The river canyon here is steep, and mostly comprised of loose shale. As luck would have it though, there was a small semi-flat rock a short scramble from where we were on shore. A dozen wet shivering rafters crowded closely together on the rock. There was just enough room in the middle for a fire to warm and dry everyone. Firewood was scarce, but someone managed to located a good collection of brush dry enough to burn (the office received a phone a few days later from an unhappy client who had had an allergic reaction to smoke from what turned out to be a fire created from poison oak branches). But we didn’t know that at the time. It was warm and the rain had stopped.
Various stories were told, word games were played, some even tried to sleep. The stress of the situation brought one client to tears, it turns out he had terminal cancer and this was one of the adventures he wanted to do before dying. He confessed to being frightened of dying, saying over and over again “I don’t want to die”. As the night wore on we all became quiet.
I had lapsed into a light slumber when I heard it. It was a quiet night but far off I could hear the sound of a diesel engine rumbling. Others heard it too. Soon we could see two spotlights rocking back and forth in the distance. It was the Log Bronc rocking back and forth, clearing logs out of the way.
We loaded back into the rafts and through the logjam. Moving through total darkness, we motored on to take out at Wards Ferry. These days, most commercial companies on the Tuolumne use a winch rig at the take out to pull rafts out, saving the dangerous and very difficult chore of hauling gear up the steep trail to the road. Back in 1983, hardly anyone did including us.
I knew that the trail had a steep drop off of loose shale leading down into the reservoir. So I really wasn’t looking forward to humping rafts up that trail in the darkness. I was relieved when our lead guide decided that the boats would be fine tied up to the bank until the morning. We grabbed bags and oars and started the climb up to the road.
I had a duffel over each shoulder and three oars balanced in my arms and was nearing the top when I heard the screams. Shouts rang off the canyon walls and mixed with sounds of sliding shale splashing below. Someone had brought the van to the top of the trail and turned the headlights on. Unfortunately, the lights blinded a father and his son just as they had approached the narrowest portion of the trail. The son took a wrong step into the darkness and tumbled down the hill towards the water. His panicked father followed him. I dropped the bags and oars and ran up to the top of trail. A few guides from another company had arrived to help, and had quickly set up a belay line. A guide was already being lowered down to help. I joined the chain of human anchors as the kid was brought up first, followed by his father next. Luckily the most serious injuries were limited to scrapes and bruises.
Our lead guide packed up the clients and their bags and headed out. I joined the rest of the crew, loaded into the truck and drove off to the guide house to catch a couple of hours of sleep.

Dawn came in a few hours, and we headed back to take out. The boats were waiting there for us. One by one we hauled them up to our shoulders and trudged up and out of the canyon. The end of the trip had finally arrived. We were too exhausted to crack the traditional post trip beer. That and the fact that it was about 8 in the morning.
I would celebrate that evening though, as I would be rowing passengers on the next trip. I’d passed the training stage on my Tuolumne guiding career.

The Basics of Buying a Recreational Kayak

2011-02-14T12:56:00.000-08:00

a.k.a the Rec Boat.

At Clavey Paddlesports we've sold one or two recreational kayaks over the years. As a result we've seen a whole spectrum of buyers. At one end was the guy who wanted a green kayak. Within fifteen minutes of telling me his one and only parameter for buying a boat, he drove out of the Clavey parking lot on his way to the Russian River with a new green kayak on his minivan. At the other end was the couple who came back to the store every four months mostly complaining that they hadn't bought a boat for her the last time they were in. Then we would pull all the boats off the racks so they both could sit in them again. Long after my lunch had cooled (buying a hot lunch is my hugely successful technique to get people into the store) they would ask for a fresh set of catalogs and go have lunch on the river watching the happy people paddle by them in the water below. When they missed their next four month appointment I soon forgot about them. Then one day after I had just picked up a nice hot slice of pizza, they wandered back into the store, bragging about the great deal they got on craigslist. The boat was short. The boat was light. The boat was inexpensive. And unfortunately for her, the boat was built specifically for a child of no more that a hundred or so pounds. There was no point in me saying anything but congratulations. She'd find out soon enough without me. And besides, I had cold pizza waiting.

Buying a recreational kayak is one the easiest purchases you can make. Why? Because with few exceptions, you can't go wrong. A rec boat is by definition nothing more than a way to get on the water and have some fun. Some are lighter. Some are faster. Some track better. Some are more comfortable. But unless you have a really specific use (like taking your dog) that requires a really specific feature (like a extra large cockpit), don't stress it, almost any rec boat is going to give you years of paddling fun.

Things to think about: Cost, weight, comfort, tracking and safety.

COST
If you you use it, it doesn't matter what it costs, it's a great deal. If you don't use it, it doesn't matter what it costs, its a bad deal. That is to say a thousand dollar kayak that gets on the water once a month is a great investment while a two hundred dollar kayak that becomes a permanent fixture in the garage is not. At Clavey our line of rec boats ranges in price from the Old Town Vapor for $399 to the Eddyline Skylark for $1399, and we don't sell crap so even our bottom of the line kayak is still a great little boat. What do you get in the thousand dollar spread from one kayak to another? Bells and whistles mostly. Some have features you don't care about. Other features are non-negotiable. Our number one non-negotiable feature is...

WEIGHT: If you can't put the kayak on top of your car, you're probably not going to go kayaking very often. You're going to pay more for less weight. There's simply no two ways about it. With the $399 Vapor you get a relatively lightweight kayak (46lbs) but at the expense of other features like a more comfortable seat. At $759 for the Native Watercraft Marvel 10 you get a lightweight (35lbs) little boat that's super comfy. And the Delta 10 for $989 gets you a boat that's as stable as a dock, as light a small child (37lbs) and has all the comfort and safety features of a much larger boat. And speaking of...

COMFORT
Just like paying more for less weight, a more comfortable seat is going to cost money also. Why? Because they cost more to make. And unfortunately you can't just put a better seat into a cheaper boat. Kayak manufacturers with uber comfy seats usually build their kayaks around the seat. The seat is really the selling point of the boat. After all, if your plan for the weekend begins with a few hours kayaking Tomales Bay on Saturday morning, you probably don't want to spend the rest of the weekend massaging your aching back because of it. A comfy kayak is a kayak you're more excited about using. People come back to the shop all the time raving about how great the seat is . Never once has somebody come back in the shop wishing they had saved a few bucks on a less comfortable boat.

TRACKING
My favorite comment I hear is about a kayak is that it doesn't turn very quickly. Congratulations. Unless you're a whitewater kayaker you don't want a boat that turns quickly. It's not like you're out there dodging dolphins at 50mph. What you want is a boat that tracks easily in a straight line. Rec boats have been notorious over the years for not tracking very well, mostly because they're so short. But today's recreational kayaks are considerably better. They're better thought out with sharper entry and exit lines on the hull. The materials are more rigid so the boats don't flex as much in the water. What this means is simply you'll work less and enjoy your time on the water more.

SAFETY
Here's the deal: Recreational Kayaks are for general recreation. They're not meant for surfing Bolinas. They're not meant for making the Inside Passage to Alaska. They're meant for enjoying flat water on relatively pleasant days. Rec Boats are wide and stable. Most people don't wear spray skirts. A lot of people bring their dog. Rec Boats are NOT designed to turn over. You don't need to learn how to roll. They're designed to sit flat on the water comfortably for even the first time kayaker. As a result, the vast majority of recreational kayaks have the very bare minimum of flotation in the event that you did tip your kayak over. This makes it difficult at best to get the water out of a swamped boat, and while the boat won't sink, it won't float high enough to get back in either. Manufacturers build boats like this for three reasons: keep the price low, keep the weight down and also because the chances are very thin indeed that you would ever tip the boat over (if you paddle in the conditions the boat was built for). Stepping up in price, most rec boats have a watertight bulkhead and hatch in the stern. This makes for a kayak you definitely cannot sink but can still be difficult at best to get back into from the water as the nose may fill too far to pump out. Meanwhile, the high end rec boats like the Delta 10 or the Eddyline Skylark have built in bulkheads fore and aft. This means a swamped boat will never dip nose down, will always stay level and can always be entered back into from the water (with proper training of course). But why do they cost so much more? Because you get it all. They have all the safety but still weigh under 40 lbs, track like they're built by Burlington-Northern, and are comfy like a Lazy Boy recliner.

Check out our selection of recreational kayaks here, or swing by our shop in Petaluma for the full monty and a free demo on the water.

Sawyer Lights Wood Oars - Review

2011-02-01T13:29:00.000-08:00

For over twelve years, I had been rowing a 14' x 24" cat with 9' composite oars. Last summer, I decided it was time for something smaller, something a little more lively and playful. The choice was an AIRE 13' x 19" Wildcat with a set of 8' Sawyer Lights Wood Oars.

What a difference wood makes! Well OK, the Wildcat, another story, is a big part of the difference, of course. The Sawyer Lights, though, are a total surprise! After so many years away from rowing wood oars, I'm happy to be back.

These oars are comfortable, light and lively!

Sawyer makes this happen -- first by laminating clear, straight grain ash and fir for strength and less weight. Second, Sawyer tapers the shafts' circumference from the handle, 5-7/8", to the blade, 4-7/8". That 1 inch difference gives the oars a marvelous counterbalanced feel, and great flex -- something you're not going to encounter in an 8' composite oar.

Oh by the way, did I mention they are LIGHT! Approximately 5.5lbs each -- including the factory installed black rope wrap and rubber stopper!

The handle is covered with a nice grippy material, has a comfortable circumference of 5-1/2'' from the crown, tapering away in both directions to 4-7/8". This little detail may not sound like much, but it feels very natural and tends to center my hand on the handle by feel alone -- something not found on my old set of composites with different dimensions (5-1/4" at the outside, tapering to 5").

The blade at first seems small, but these are for small boats. Who needs a 6.5” blade, let alone 8” on a 13’ cat! They have all the power I need for a fast nimble little playboat.

Before shipping, I had Sawyer factory install Pro Tips on the blades, and I highly recommend them. After all, the oars are made from natural material and not indestructible.

One last note: Being made of wood, these oars are just plain beautiful. A pleasure to row and nice to get back to something with some real soul and connection to being outside in the first place.

By Carl Ramstrom

The Clavey Half Box, Dry Box - Review

2011-01-18T10:40:00.000-08:00

For most of my guiding career I rowed 18’ Avon Spirits with slant board frames. We would pile coolers and rocket boxes on the front deck and then cover them with a myriad of dry bags containing everything from cast iron fry pans to black bags full of melons. In the rowers compartment we would hang water jugs and propane tanks. The rear was loaded with so many black bags I could not see over my shoulder. Everything was tied down with 1⁄2” hoopie and once loaded resembled the family truck heading out of the dust bowl in the Grapes of Wrath.

When I came to Clavey 15 years ago, I learned of a whole new way to rig a raft (blog coming soon) that kept the load low, out of the way and did not rely on a spool of webbing to tie it down. My favorite piece of the “Clavey Rig” is the Half Box, dry box. Instead of hanging items from my frame like fuzzy dice from a rear view mirror I now have a Drop Deck with two of these sweet, watertight dry boxes – one on either side of my legs. These are rigged to the deck from the handles on the ends so I have quick and easy access while on the river.

If you boat with kids you know how often you have to be handing out food and the Half Box is the perfect place to stash your on-river snacks. It makes for a really clean set-up and they’re are worth every penny. Oh yeah – they also make great liquor cabinets (did I mention easy access?).

Our stock size is 20” L x 8” W x 14” D, but we can modify to your measurements.

By Tom Meckfessel

Time to Vote for Clavey 2011

2011-01-06T09:56:00.000-08:00

For those of you up here in Sonoma, Marin or Napa, the time has come once again to vote for the Bohemian Weekly's Best of the North Bay. And while we can't help you choose such categories as the Best Baby Gift Store, Best Bridal Salon or the Best Plastic Surgeon, we can offer you a few suggestions on a few of our other favorites:

Let's start with three you've probably already voted for (I know we did).
206 Best Outdoor Gear Shop: Clavey Paddlesports (that one should have been a gimme).
310 Best Caterer: Tom Meckfessel, Paella del Reyes (best fancy rice you've ever had)!
421 Best Veterinarian: Nicole Canon, Animal Hospital of Sebastopol (she's my wife and if she's not successful, I'll have to get a real job).

And now here's a few others we think are well worth the vote but aren't so personally invested as the first three.

108 Best Movie Theatre: Sebastinani (They showed Casablanca last year - how great is that)?
110 Best Music Venue: The Mystic (the fact that I can walk back to Clavey and pass out under my desk is a plus).
201 Best Bike Shop: Mike's Bikes (we love those guys).
212 Best Yoga Studio: Thrive in Sebastopol (keeping my wife looking yummy gets my vote all day long).
302 Best Bakery: Wild Flour in Freestone (if you were to die without having had a scone from the the Wild Flour, then you never really lived).
314 Best Chef: Tony Najiola of Central Market (you should never trust a skinny chef so you can certainly trust Tony).
317 Best Cocktails: Underwood in Graton (I can ride my bike there from Sebastopol and if I could find it again I could ride back home as well).
327 Best Italian: Cucina Paradiso in Petaluma (mama mia, si molto bene)!
331 Best Mexican: Martha's Sebastopol (you've already voted for Martha's, you don't need my opinion).
337 Best Restaurant: Central Market (honestly, how could you be the best chef but not have the best restaurant).
409 Best Private School: Little Red Farm House (Waldorf school with cute little kids and the kind of teacher every little boy dreams about).
418 Best Groomer: Jennifer Slaton, The Barking Lot (she gives the kind of hair cuts that even make our sub-standard poodle look like a real dog).
709 Best Auto Repair: Out West Garage (Maria and her crew know more about Japanese cars than Japanese do).
710 Best Bank: First Community Bank (what hometown banks used to be - never a line and everybody knows your name).
754 Best Solar Retail: Western Pacific Solar (their entire company is as sunny as the energy they sell).

You can find your ballot here. Now doesn't it feel good to have voted? Yes. Yes it does.

Pearson Arrow Laird 11’ SUP - Not your father's Stand Up Paddle Board

2010-12-28T14:30:00.000-08:00

Pearson Arrow Laird 11’ Stand Up Paddleboard
- a review from Tom Meckfessel

Choosing a SUP has become a daunting task for the consumer and, as a dealer, choosing which lines to carry in the shop is becoming a royal pain in the butt. It seems like anyone with a bit of money can go overseas, get a line of boards made for them and start a SUP company. We get calls on a weekly basis from different reps pushing new lines of boards. Prices are all over the map and trying to figure out exactly what you’re getting, as far construction is concerned, is difficult to say the least. We have been pretty happy paddling and selling Surftech boards for the last couple of years. The company has been around since the late 80's, pioneered Tuflite manufacturing and has the most comprehensive lineup (over 40 models) shaped by the likes of Lopez, Takayama, Munoz, Merrick and Pearson. We feel that the company is here to stay and builds the longest lasting, best performing SUPs on the market.
I drive the Clavey Sprinter van (otherwise known as the Clavey Rig, Big Blue or the Meckfessel Vessel) and have plenty of room inside for two boards up to 11’. I try to keep one SUP in the van at all times but the issue has always been which model. I am lucky enough to have a choice of any board in our ever growing SUP lineup so it was a just a matter of trying a few out. Over the last couple of years what I have been looking for was a board that would paddle flat water fine but also excel in the surf. My issue is that I often paddle a mile or so to get to one of my breaks, surf for a while and then paddle back which is, for me, the perfect workout (I'd tell you where I go but you wouldn't be interested, there's never any surf, the Great Whites are everywhere and there's always sewage leaking from the treatment plant up the beach).
Just for background: I am 6’2”, 180lbs and I have surfed for the last 25 years. I would never call myself a great surfer but I'm proficient and know which side of the wave is the face. First I tried a few “crossover boards” like the Takayma 11’6” and the Robert August What I Paddle (WIP). While these boards paddle great in flat water and got me where I was going relatively quick, they were both too long and had too much volume for me to be able to surf them well. If the waves had any size to them I had a hard time getting these boards to turn quick enough to get down the line before being taken out by the lip of the wave. In really small waves they worked great but in anything bigger I just could not maneuver them. What I needed was a board that was a touch smaller, with lower volume and a “looser” feel.
At this years Tahoe Nalu SUP event in August I ran into legendary surfboard shaper Bob Pearson of Pearson Arrow in Santa Cruz. We got to talking and he told me about the line of SUPs he shaped with Laird Hamilton for Surftech. His enthusiasim for these new boards was infectious and I left the event wanting to get one in the shop to try out. The Pearson Laird line comes in 10’, 10’6”, 11’ and 12’1” models. While Bob said he swore by the 10’6” I went for the 11’ to give me a bit more stability – I sort of figured that he just might be a better surfer than me.
On my first go I paddled out at Bolinas (Malibu North) early one morning and scored some nice waves at the break called the “Patch”. The board paddled well on the flats and surfed like a dream. With its wide nose (23”), mid-level volume(165 ltr) and thin pin tail (now in a 5 fin set up) it turned like a surfboard – not a battleship. I have now had this board for the last 4 months, surfed it on a weekly basis, and I absolutely love it. I even use it for flatwater paddling when I find myself at a nice spot in need of some water time. I would recommend this SUP to anyone who wants a crossover board that excels in the surf rather than the flats. It’s a trade off well worth the bit of extra effort!

If you want to see Bob Pearson and Laird Hamilton taking this board through its paces check out these videos:

Bob and Laird talk shop
Laird having just a little fun

The Aftertaste of Adventure

2010-12-02T12:45:00.000-08:00

It was John Ruskin who said, “Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.” And it is I who calls Bull Shit, John. It should be re-written as: "Sunshine is warm and nice, rain is wet and makes things damp, wind can be heinous and snow is really friggin’ cold, but the best memories don’t come from sun.”

The best memory-maker is the tried-and-true hypothermia inducing sideways-sleet-snow. I don’t know how John would describe it, probably something like “the mating of love and honey” but the metaphor I would use to share its glory would be similar to getting scissor kicked repeatedly in the neck and then dunked in an icy concoction of baby vomit and dog crap.

It was a sideways-sleet-snow kind of morning in Selma, Oregon, on November 20^th, 2010. In attendance were 29 folks, 14 rafts and catarafts, 3 kayaks, 1 very cold keg, and a grand total of 290 completely numb fingers. In an impressive show of a complete lack of conventional wisdom, we’re now driving to Miami Bar, which sounds like a place to order a tropical beverage and relax on a palm tree laced beach, but I can assure you it’s not. It’s the access point to the wilderness section of the Illinois River where most trips begin. From Miami Bar to Oak Flat, the “take-out”, the river flows for 32 miles within one of the most beautiful river canyons in North America.

Creatch, Jen, and Matt at the bottom of Green Wall, Illinois River, in an Avon Expedition:

By the time we had gone eight miles downstream nearly everyone was frozen. We decided to camp at Pine Flat, which was a little worrisome because the water was low (only around 800 CFS). From Pine Flat it is 24 miles to Oak Flat. The ground was covered in three inches of snow, which made for difficulties carrying all of our gear up the slope. The following day we were on the water by 9:00 and at take-out by 4:00, an impressive feat considering the size of our group, the low water, and the cold weather.

I’ve been thinking about why people would do this and, even more intriguing, why they want to do it again. Although trips like this can be miserable at the time, looking back on them offers great memories and a renewed sense of life. It’s what I call the aftertaste of adventure and it’s the antithesis of a hangover. Also, it must be a good thing to be outside, to overcome obstacles, to exercise, and to feel so alive at the end of an adventure.

Most of the group, a few missing, at Miami Bar, Illinois River (photo by Kira Watts):

With this in mind, I started thinking about why more people don’t do this. Why are more and more people content playing video games on their computer rather than walking in the rain and splashing in puddles? Seriously, what are you going to remember? A day of poking on Facebook or a day of freezing your ass off with friends alongside a beautiful river?

Get outside people. Get your hands numb and stand under a tree. Set up a tent in the rain. Build a campfire and pass around a bottle of whiskey. If you don’t have a story to tell you will soon enough.

For those who don’t know how to start, I’ve spent my morning writing about my favorite river and how, you too, can find yourself at its put-in with snow blowing in your face. Before I begin I’ll leave you with this:

"So get out there and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains. Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those deskbound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards."
–Edward Abbey

The Illinois River, Explained

There’s a lot of mystique amongst boaters about the Illinois River. With any river you’ve never run before, it’s always somewhat of a hassle to figure out logistics and the Illinois is no different. In reality there’s a road to the put in, a road to the takeout, various shuttle services, and the stretch is only 32 miles long – logistically it’s a piece of cake.

Like most coastal rivers in the Pacific Northwest, the Illinois flow jumps around a little bit. During the summer the base flow is around 40 CFS. As fall rolls around and rain starts to fall, the base flow gradually increases so that at the end of each storm (and subsequent spike) the base flow is a little bit higher. It gets to a point once everything is saturated for the winter that, even without rain for a week, the Illinois will hold above 1,000 CFS. What gets folks worried are the spikes that occur hand-in-hand with Oregon’s notorious downpours.

Different boats for different folks. Pine Flat, Illinois River (photo by David Pool):

The most widely accepted window to run the Illinois, in terms of flow, is between 800 CFS and 3,000 CFS. The gauge is roughly 30 miles upstream of Miami Bar in a town called Kerby and between the two are numerous creeks, big and small, that can add substantial flow. However, the only gauge is in Kerby, so that’s what you use. Despite the fluctuating flows and the narrow window, I would venture to say that the Illinois is the most consistent free-flowing multi-day river trip in the West, which is probably the exact opposite of what you’ve ever heard.

Here are the stats: historically the Illinois breaks 800 CFS by the second weekend of November and remains, on average, above 800 CFS until mid-May. The base flow during this time frame is never above 1500 CFS, which means that with a few days of no rain, the river is likely to be between 800 and 1500. If we say the boating season is between mid-November and mid-May, that gives us six boatable months. Compare that to the Middle Fork of the Salmon, which is about four months, or the Upper Kern, which is around three months, and you’ll understand that this is a long season.

Cold keg of Standing Stone Brew (photo by David Pool):

There’s this damn cliché running through my head when I think of why it is a common belief the Illinois is fickle and hard to get on. And I’m sorry to even write it here because it sounds so lame but, whatever, here it is: “You miss 100% of the shots you never take.” Thank you, Michael Jordan, for your infinite wisdom. It certainly rings true on the Illinois.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve run the Illinois at great flows that weren’t predicted three days ahead of time and the predictions had caused someone to bag out. Why is that? There are a whole lot of reasons you might decide to cancel a trip but the three big ones are these:

1) You are worried about flows.

2) You only want to go if the weather is nice.

3) Your contingency plans suck.

The first thing you ought to do is cross out #2. That should never be a reason to bail on an Illinois trip. Most of the time the weather will not be ideal, so if that’s a reason to not go you have now successfully made the Illinois the most difficult river to catch a trip on. Congratulations.

Because the Illinois is in a weird place geographically for most folks it takes some driving time to get there. No one wants to drive all that way and then have the disappointment of the flows not being right. But there’s good news. The Smith River is only 45 minutes from Selma and offers everything from class II to class V. Something on the Smith will be running if the Illinois is too high. If the Illinois is too low, chances are the Smith is too, in which case the Rogue is your best bet. So now, even though you’re not on the Illinois you still get to be on the water, which is a whole lot better than a stick in the eye.

Chip and Katherine running Green Wall, Illinois River, in an Avon Adventurer:

At this point you have now narrowed down your reasons for not going on the trip to one factor: flow. If flow is your only concern you are going to get on the Illinois a lot because, like I said before, the Illinois is the most consistent free flowing multi-day river trip in the west. Just about everyone either uses the USGS website or the Northwest River Forecasting Center’s website to check the Illinois gauge. The nice thing about the NWRFC is that they show predicted flow. The downside, however, is that it is consistently wrong. It is a good indicator as to which the direction the flow will be going (up or down) but not so much of a good source for where the flow will end up (top of a peak for instance).

Whenever I plan an Illinois trip I constantly check the predicted flow because it’s fun, creates anticipation, and is wildly bizarre. I try not to get too excited because chances are I will wake up the morning of the trip and the flow will be way off from where they had predicted it to be three days earlier. Which doesn’t really matter at all because the only reason I wouldn’t go on the trip is if the water is too high or too low regardless of where it was predicted.

Most trips on the Illinois are multi-day trips, which means the flow is likely to change while you are on the river. This is the only time you ought to make a decision based on predicted flows. If you are launching at 2000 CFS and the predicted flows have it spiking on the afternoon of your first day you may want to consider heading over to the Smiths. I’m not going to tell you not to go because, well, I’ve put on in that situation, but you better think about what you’re doing.

Green Wall, Illinois River, in an Avon Adventurer (photo by David Pool):

And that just about wraps it up. The bottom line is if you reduce the number of excuses for not going to the only one that is critical (the flow), your chances of getting on this beautiful river are very good. And if it’s snowing the aftertaste of adventure will be with you even longer.

Good luck and happy boating!

SUP Dog!

2010-08-02T09:54:00.001-07:00

Our dogs aren't too crazy about kayaking. They were definitely unhappy with rafting. So when, as a joke, I put the dogs on our stand up paddleboards and they took to it like a river guide takes to beer, we were floored.

We drove up to Truckee on a Sunday, ripping past the traffic that was clogged up like Tom's daughter's shower drain, heading back to the bay. Nicole's mother, Marilyn, has a house in Tahoe Donner, so we try to get up there when we can. I brought three of our most stable SUPs hoping to get Marilyn out on the water: The Laird 12'6", a French 11'6" and a French 10'6". Now when I say stable, I don't want you to think about stability like you would with a kayak - primary and secondary stability. I want you to think of stability like a dock sitting on a pond. Like your Uncle Joe sitting in his Lazy Boy watching the Super Bowl. The kind of stability you'd like to see in your retirement portfolio. These are stable SUPs.

Being members at Tahoe Donner gives us demi-private access to their beach and more importantly their parking at Donner Lake. For some odd reason I'd never been to Donner Lake before (just too darn convenient I guess) and I was expecting fairly cold water. Needless to say, 72º was not what I was expecting, especially after coming up from July in Sebastopol where summer was still only a fool hearty dream. We showed our little ID cards to the girl in the booth at the gate and then drove right down to the beach to drop off the boards, the mother-in-law and the dogs. Our initial goal was to be on the water by 7am, thus avoiding the lion's share of ski boat traffic and waves - so of course, it was now almost 10. But it was Monday and the lake was probably as empty as it was ever going to get.

Marilyn wasn't particularly interest in giving the old paddleboard a go so we thought we'd try paddling with the dogs - just for a laugh - before making a loop of the lake. When Indigo, the Aussie shepherd, and Bonnie, my step-poodle, jumped right up on the boards, walked up and down a couple times and then sat down happily, I thought, "Shut the front door". These dogs have fought me every step of the way trying to get them on the water so we could take them with us on our various adventures. And here they were, happy as little fluffy clams on the stand up paddleboards.

Now I've got to say, when SUPing first started gaining noteriety, my initial reaction was FAD. But a combination of great visibility looking down into the water, awesome workout and complete simplicity in the total lack of technical gear needed to get on the water has completely sold me. And now the dogs like it? Come on!

Nicole and I jumped on our boards, she with the aussie and I - for some inexplicable reason - with the poodle. We paddled. They sat down. Then they laid down. When I put a little effort into my paddle stroke and water started coming over the nose, the poodle stood back up again. I asked Nicole if we could swap dogs as my male self-confidence only goes so far. We rafted together, made the switch and began paddling up the other shore. Maybe fifteen minutes later I heard a big splash behind me. The poodle had fallen in the drink. You're probably wondering just how big of a splash a 35lb substandard poodle could make. The answer is: Not very. My wife on the other hand, can make a hell of a splash. And sure enough, there was my wife and step poodle enjoying the nice warm waters of Donner Lake.

As the story goes, the poodle began to get a little too comfortable on the nose of Nicole's board. She was laying there one moment and the next she literally just slipped off the side and into the welcoming waters of the lake. Now, Nicole's a veterinarian. And ever since we began spending time together she's been pushing this theory of poodle superior intellect my way. That and poodles are supposed to be water dogs. So if the poodle's so smart, and the poodle's such a fantastic aquatic mammal, how come the poodle can't swim? My wife the professional poodlephile doesn't have a ready answer for that one.

According to an eye witness on the board with the poodle, Bonnie first fell off the board, then took two or three leisurely dog paddles and immediately began to sink. Realizing we could of course, keep this poodle but that there was not a chance in hell I'd capitulate for a replacement, Nicole jumped in after her. At this point even the aussie looked up at me with a face that said, "You gotta be frickin' kidding". But no, no kidding. There was wife, utilizing swimming skills she hadn't used since she played water polo in high school, holding the poodle's head out of the water. Now I'm a fairly smart guy (certainly smarter than any poodle I've ever met), and I knew that rolling around on the deck of my board holding my belly while tears of laughter streamed down my face was probably not the reaction to the situation my wife was looking for. I opted instead to paddle over and pull the poodle from an impending date with the internet under the embarrassing classification: News of the Weird.

I'm a petite 225lbs. The aussie is 45lbs. And the poodle is 35lbs (literally soaking wet). So with 300+ lbs on the French 11'6" I paddle back to our little beach riding as high and stable as If I were alone. About fifteen feet from shore I decided to do a little science experiment and kicked both dogs off the board and into about three feet of water. Indigo swam to shore, ran over to my mother-in-law and loosed enough water on Marilyn to fill a fire truck. The poodle just sank. I figured I'd give her a moment to let her natural instincts take over but it was soon clear to me that given a little more time, the only thing natural to happen would be selection. So now it was my turn to jump in. According to my my lovely bride, I brought this on myself when I forgot the doggie lifejackets. I'd be a fool to argue. Well, more of a fool anyway.

Nicole often takes the dogs with her for a morning run. Half way to anywhere Bonnie will decide she's had enough exercise. This creates a fun time for my wife that she likes to call taking the poodle for a drag. Now we can add taking the poodle for a sink to our list of fun times.

My early days on the "T", part two

2010-03-26T16:50:00.000-07:00

Part Two—The Log Jam

1983 was a great year to begin working the Tuolumne River. It was a high water year and we ran trips all the way into September. We got to see the river at different levels, learning different routes, and different dangers, thrills and beauty. But the trips all ended the same, with the mighty “T” dumping us unceremoniously into the murky, houseboat infested beast known as Lake Don Pedro. Several miles of rowing lead you to the log jam.

The “log jam” is a phenomenon that occurs on reservoirs when dead trees that were drowned in the filling of the reservoir are blown by winds into the various fingers. The Tuolumne dumps into one of these fingers and brings with it various debris as well. And in a high water year, the “T” scours the riverbanks and can carry quite a bit of dead and decaying vegetation downstream. In 1983, the log jam was huge and deep. The installation of booms could have prevented the jam but that would have been too simple. Eventually it became so deep and wide and full of everything from plastic bottles to logs and unmatched flip flops that it was impossible to get through it. A number of efforts were made to remove it including my personal favorite: An attempt to burn the water soaked logs out of the water they sat in, which, believe it or not, failed miserably.

Eventually, the irrigation district that owned water rights to the water in Don Pedro acquired a craft known as the Log Bronc, capable of breaking its way through the jam. This stout little tugboat-shaped craft was a 12’ long diesel powered brute that broke through log jams like an icebreaker. It came from the northwest where it was designed to navigate through log ponds full of timber. I don’t know if its primary purpose on Don Pedro was to tow rafters through the log jam, but that¹s what I saw it used for. And it was a beautiful sight to see as it rocked back and forth, spewing diesel into the air and shoving logs to the wayside making its way to the inflatable rafts waiting to be tugged back through the jam.

Another reason I was excited to begin working the “T” that year was because no one was sure how much longer it would be open for rafting and I wanted to enjoy it for as long as I could. There was a serious threat of the river being dammed, resulting in our beloved river being de-watered and drowned. The river community was galvanized in the efforts to save the “T”. The Stanislaus had been lost to a reservoir just a few years earlier and no one wanted to see that happen to the Tuolumne. We asked clients to write letters after every trip and the outfitters banded together to formulate a strategy to save the river. I knew, as did all of the guides and outfitters on the river, that if word got out into the press what a wonderful place the Tuolumne was, that public sentiment could affect how legislators viewed the river. Federal protection under the Wild and Scenic program could save the river.

My final training trip, before finally being certified as a Tuolumne guide, was a trip run alongside another outfitter who brought along a couple of writers from Sunset magazine. As before, I would row the boat with gear piled high under blue tarps fore and aft. I’d figured out the routes, studied the river and felt great about getting this final trip done before I’d actually get paid to do it!

We embarked on a standard two day Tuolumne trip and camped at Indian Creek. That night we erected a river sauna and our fellow (and more knowledgeable) guides extolled the praises of the river to the Sunset writers.

On the last day our of the trip, we stopped at the North Fork of the T for lunch. This is a magical tributary with a side hike that’s not to be missed. I stayed behind to put together lunch while fellow guides took our guests and the writers on the hike. I had almost finished laying out the our lunch spread, when the dark thunderheads that had been holding over the ridge began to move into the canyon with a vengeance. No worries I thought, I’ll just grab a tarp, a couple oars and some hoopie and save lunch from becoming a soggy mess. It’s summer in the Sierra so I knew this would be a passing squall. The group returned, wolfed down the lunch and we loaded up and got back on the river. We had a few miles before meeting the Log Bronc to tow us through the log jam, and the squall I was so sure would pass, soon settled into a full-blown thunderstorm. It was the middle of the summer and most of our clients had brought absolutely no rain gear. A veteran guide had convinced me earlier that season to always stash a lightweight rain jacket in my bag. It’s something I’ve done ever since and it certainly kept me comfortable that afternoon. And into the night.

About an hour or so later, we dropped into the reservoir and saw the ominous log jam laying between us and the take out. My summer squall-turned-miserable-thunderstorm continued unabated while we waited patiently for the Log Bronc to show. There was one other river company ahead of us, so we knew we’d have to wait a bit before our tow. I pulled the tarps off the load and sent them over to the other boats so that our clients could shelter under them.

I sat in the rain waiting. It wasn’t particularly cold, just wet. Eventually, I heard the sound of an engine coming up the reservoir. The Old Log Bronc. As it got closer, I realized I wasn’t looking at the Log Bronc. Instead, what I saw was a couple of colorful looking characters in a homemade steel hulled craft with the name “Rusty Sucker” emblazoned across it. It was an open boat with an old Cadillac V-8 near the stern. The powerplant was hooked up to jet drive that was probably salvaged from an old ski boat. Instead of having a deep keel and a sharp iron reinforced bow to clear logs, the Sucker relied on - let’s call him “Jethro”- in the bow with an iron bar to clear logs out of the way. Ricky Bobby manned the wheel and shouted orders to Jethro. It wasn’t the Bronc, but I didn’t care, as it seemed to work just fine pulling the other company through the logjam. That is until the Rusty Sucker was almost at the end of the logjam. At that point I saw Jethro prying and pulling at the engine or jet drive with the iron bar he was formerly using to clear logs from the bow. That didn’t seem right to me, but sometimes when your toolbox only has one tool, well, that’s what you use. Eventually they cleared the jam and were on their way to the take-out while I sat in the rain and imagined Jethro at home adjusting his television set with a hammer.

With nothing but waiting ahead of me, I watched the string of rafts being pulled along behind the Sucker until they disappeared around the bend. The rain kept falling and I looked over at our clients now huddled under the blue tarps. Secretly (and silently) I was glad that I was still a trainee and not a working guide.

Next Blog: The Return of the Rusty Sucker

Dumpster Diving - the highlight of my Grand Canyon trip

2010-02-15T02:00:00.000-08:00

We're in a van headed to Flagstaff. We hired Ceiba, a company out of Flag, to pick us up at Diamond Creek and they've got a driver so of course we're having a good time telling stories, hooting and hollering. Maybe sneaking beers here and there. Maybe. Over the past 19 days there has not been one moment that couldn't make a great story. We've made great friends with each other. Most of us were acquaintances before the trip but now it's just full on bromances and, hell, even a few romances.

Both my brothers are in the van. Matt is a student at UCSB, Skip at University of Oregon - we don't get on the water together as often as we used to. My girlfriend Dana is sitting next to me. We've done quite a few multi-day trips together but nothing really prepares someone for a 19-day river trip so I'm ecstatic that she had loved it as much as I had. Everything other than getting to the river has gone perfectly. Dan Thurber, one of my favorite people to float any river with, had a major vehicle break-down in California. It seems that some gophers took a liking to the wiring under the hood. He had to borrow a van from a friend to get out, and arrived at Lee's Ferry around 10 AM the day we were to launch. But that's a whole other story. Other than that this has been a dream trip. Great people, great river - and really those are the only two things that matter.

Skip, Will, and Matt. Christmas Day:

In October I got a hold of the boys at Clavey and told them what I was looking for: two Kokatat dry suits. Over the last four years I have gone through eight other suits and I was ready to find a high quality suit that would last. I got Dana the Women's Dry Suit with the drop seat and myself the typical blue/mango Men's Dry Suit. Dana also got the full-body fleece outfit (often dubbed a "penguin suit"). These are sweet to wear underneath your dry suit. They keep you toasty and they're comfortable. Our trip launched December 13th - which is a perfect time of year to ensure that your beer is always ice cold, but it's also that time of year most folks don't go boating because, well, everything is ice cold. With our new dry suits packed and our Avon Expedition in tow we headed to Lee's Ferry.

We had the river to ourselves and didn't run into another party until the afternoon of our ninth day. We had a great Christmas layover across from Deer Creek. The hiking was phenomenal, whitewater was plentiful... it was just one of those trips. Dana and I wore our drysuits the entire time we were on the water. They were comfortable so it just never seemed that bad.

Even Santa came and partied with us:

Our last night camp was about a mile from Diamond Creek. In the morning we woke up and started putting things away. Dana and I didn't feel like wearing our dry suits with only one mile to go, so we threw them in a black trash bag and into the boat...

Boy, we sure were happy:

Fast forward five hours and the van is pulling into Ceiba's driveway. Our vehicles are here so we jump out and move them near the big trailer of mixed gear. All the equipment needs to be separated and put into the correct rig. While Dana and I are throwing things into our little trailer other folks are doing the same with their respective rigs. A few other people are throwing bags of trash into the back of one of Ceiba's trucks, which then is driven to their dumpster where the bags of trash are hurled in. As all this is happening, the trash truck shows up (great timing, right?), picks up the now-full dumpster, lifts it up and over, sets the empty dumpster down, and then leaves for its next destination. Everything is going great.

Let me pause and tell you a few things about relationships. As Dane Cook says, there are two types: you can have a "great relationship" or you can have a "relationshit". Dana and I have a great relationship. Regardless of the type of relationship you have, boaters in particular need to be wary of the DTI. This stands for Domestic Tranquility Index. This is an incredibly volatile index that shows exactly how tranquil ones relationship is - and it can change in seconds. For instance, if Dana is having a bad day and I do something nice, like buy her a chocolate snack, the index rises. But, if she is having a bad day and I eat the chocolate snack without asking her if she wants any then the index plummets.

Also, the DTI is tested when shit hits the fan. For instance, when, at this moment in the story, Dana says "Have you seen the drysuits?" this is an instant when shit is definitely hitting the fan because I know that the drysuits are in a black trash bag inside the garbage truck headed to who-knows-where.

We look everywhere. Maybe they weren't thrown out, right? Alas, no one can find them. Dana goes into Ceiba's office to talk to someone who might know where the trash truck is going. Nobody at the trash company picks up the phone, so she leaves a message. I'm pissed, Dana's pissed, so naturally we blame each other for putting the most expensive articles of clothing we've ever owned inside trash bags. The DTI is plummeting and there is no bottom in sight.

Everything (well, you know, minus the stupid drysuits) is packed. It's New Year's Eve, we're in Flagstaff, our group wants to party. Dana and I are going to look for the drysuits and meet everyone at the hotel. We take off headed down the road looking for a garbage truck. The DTI has now officially hit an all-time low. While we're busy yelling at each other Skip calls me and says they were able to get the driver's name and phone number. We call him. He says we aren't really supposed to go through the trash, but he'll wait to dump it until we get to the dump. We look the address up on Dana's iPhone and hit the accelerator.

We get to the dump. The old lady at the gate quizzes us about what we're doing. We try to explain but her response is "You aren't allowed to salvage." I tell her we just really need to see our friend, Patrick, the dump truck driver. She lets us in. We fly by the 5 M.P.H. sign and head into the abyss. I call Patrick, he tells me where he's at. We find him and he says that we're "lucky because it was a small load today." The amount of trash is astounding. This would not be a "small load" in my book but, hey, I'm not a trash expert. Patrick, my new favorite person on Earth, gives us a hint. He points at a yellow bucket. "You see that yellow bucket? That was one load before your guys. So," he says waving his hands in front of a four foot section in the middle, "your stuff is somewhere around here."

Neither Dana or I have showered in 19 days. We dive into the trash pile. People throw out a lot more than just trash. There's a lot of dog crap, two dead cats, and a dead rabbit. And that was just in our four-foot section. As far as we had come, as lucky as we had gotten, and as helpful as everyone had been, I had doubts we would find the suits. There was just so much trash. Too much. And, of course, it's not like a black trash bag is an uncommon color. But all of a sudden I found a trash bag that was full of empty liquor bottles. These were bottles that had traveled down the river with us, bottles that had united our group and had helped build new friendships, and bottles that were now leading me to my sacred drysuit. I reached down, brushing aside more dog shit, and picked up a black trash bag.

In Flagstaff there are train tracks that go right through the middle of town. It's New Year's Eve and I'm at a bar with a group of friends I would never trade out for anything. Every time a train rolls through town you can get discounted "train shots". Awesome, right? A train rumbles through town, we get train shots, and I hoist my shot high in the air. "To the river gods." We cheer and take our drinks. Dana's beside me. We've had a long day of ups and downs with the DTI but we're right back where we started: the index is running high, we're as happy as can be, and we have two awesome drysuits. Plus, hell, we've got a great story.

__________________________________

Acknowledgments:

* We would never have been on the water without Andrew Wilkin. He organized one helluva trip. Thanks Andrew!
* Special thanks to Idaho River Journeys, Rogue River Journeys, and Kern River Outfitters for the gear they lent us.
* Ceiba is an awesome company. The owners took care of us and helped Dana and me out so much. We wouldn't have gotten our drysuits back without them! If you're doing a Grand Canyon trip... use these guys!

My early days on the "T"

2010-01-22T14:49:00.000-08:00

I fired up the wayback machine this week and came up with a few reminiscences of my river guiding career.

Back in 1983, several years before there were self-bailing Avon rafts, the Tuolumne was considered one of the more difficult commercially run rivers in the West. In fact, our company’s name is taken from one of the original “Big Drops” - Clavey Falls.

Back then we ran 16’ gear boats piled high bow and stern with duffle bags loaded on plywood decks. There were no drybags. Everybody put their personal gear in nylon duffle bags and then we wrapped everything up with big blue tarps (for maximum water resistance). When you were done rigging, the pile was so high often it required the guide to turn the boat sideways or stand up on the slant board frame just to see downstream. A couple of coolers were slung in the cockpit and the center section was left open so that you could bail what water you could reach out of the bilge. We’d carabiner two 5 gallon buckets next to the seat for bailing purposes. Two buckets were required because sometimes you’d lose one in the frantic effort to lighten the boat by as many bucketfuls in as short a time as possible. Believe me, you did not want to be without a bucket!

On a typical trip, we might run one or two paddle rafts, a couple of stern loaded oar boats with passengers in the front, and a couple of the aforementioned gear boats. You had to plan your routes to avoid as much whitewater as possible, keeping as much water out of the bilge as you could. Nonetheless, quite often in the middle of a rapid you would find yourself caroming half out of control, bilge full of water and straining to see over that load.

The Forest Service on the “T” requires that a guide run the river top to bottom at least three times before taking commercial passengers. Hence, the gear boat is often run by a “training guide”. Essentially a “training guide” was somebody who was rowing a heavily-laden boat, down a river they don’t know well, and not getting paid for it. As a second-year guide in 1983, I couldn’t wait for the opportunity.

Things may have changed since then, I don’t know. But back then the more experienced guides literally threw everything and anything they didn’t want to carry on your load. Instruction for rapids included the following:

“Keep up, follow me, and don’t get stuck”.

Because you were rowing a boat by yourself, you needed to make sure you didn’t get stuck.

Early on in the trip, at a rapid called Nemesis, you have two choices:

One is to to run left at the bottom and risk getting royally stuck.

Or two, run what we used to call Airplane Turn where if you did it right you pivoted your raft down a chute, not getting stuck. If you missed a stroke, you would end up hopelessly wrapped around the entrance rock.

I remember seeing a photo on the cover of National Geographic magazine of just such a wrap on that very rock. Fortunately, I never lost an oar or missed a stroke there. Later on, after qualifying as a lead guide and after self-bailing rafts came along I decided I never had to try that move again.

The most challenging rapid on the Tuolumne, the one it is really known for, is formed just downstream of where the Clavey river comes in. The route over Clavey Falls is hard to read from the river, and so requires a look from shore. At high water it’s difficult to scout right, as that requires a hard pull across the current that’s much stronger because of the Clavey coming in at that point. So at high water, you scout left and at lower levels, scout right.

Prior to my first training trip, I had seen the river twice; once at low water, and once at high water. Naturally the level was right in middle of the two extremes for my first crack at rowing it myself. Our lead guide decided we would scout right.

In addition to his minimal approach to instruction, he felt that training guides should be able to secure their boat with no assistance. So landing upstream of Clavey Falls meant you first made sure that your stern line was unfurled and laying on top of the load. Then, after pulling as hard as you can, you jump over the load, grab the line and leap for the shore right before the raft hits. Miss your timing and the boat bounces off of shore, and you’re hanging on for dear life-with visions in your head of the fully loaded raft dragging you over the falls.

If you’ve done it right, as the boat hits shore, you wrap the rope around your waist and hunker down in a body belay. Later on, when I began training guides on the “T” their boats would come in last with assistance from the crew already on shore. Call me soft if you will, but we never had anyone dragged downstream by his or her overloaded boats anymore.

These days, my guess is that when new guides arrive at Clavey Falls, the more experienced among them show them possible routes, things to be aware of, and probably have them watch a boat or two “do it right” before shoving them off. A more callous lead guide would make a training guide go first, “so we can be behind you in case you screw up!”

Our lead guide that day is probably thought of very fondly by his mother. But I don’t personally recall any fond feelings for him as I untied my boat, pushed off by myself, and quickly clambered up and over my load. I grabbed the oars (heavy solid ash oars) and looked down at my hands - shaking. With just a few strokes to clear the shore, I felt the current pushing me towards the falls before I was ready. I was not really sure where the route was—after all, I was the lead boat on our trip now, with no one to follow.

I struggled to pivot the overloaded craft sideways so that I could see downstream. Water was sloshing about in the bilge making the boat even more unwieldy—I’d forgotten to bail it before shoving off. Here comes the falls! Time to straighten it out now and brace...(I can’t really see ahead of me as there is this huge blue tarp full of camp gear and our passenger’s worldly possessions in my way).

In an instant I am at the bottom of the falls and my boat is totally full of water. There’s no time to bail. Here comes the hole! (I’d heard that if a raft hits that hole dead center, it stops abruptly, rotates sideways and goes over in mere seconds--something I’d learn firsthand later in my career.) There’s no chance I’m going to make the pull to the green highway - a nice tongue of beautiful water marking the border of that seething beast - the route you’re supposed to take.

It doesn’t matter. My boat is so loaded with water that it’s gushing back over from the bilge into the river (a classic “Grand Canyon swamp”). All I can do is haul on the right oar with everything I’ve got and hope to straighten it out before plunging in. And within the next moment, my boat and I are both into and out of Clavey hole. Completely out of control now, I drop sideways down the next drop and shoot into an eddy. And bail. And bail and bail and bail. 5 gallons, 10 gallons, 15....

Finally my boat is empty. The other boats fly by, passengers busily bailing and hooting and hollering. A thumbs up from my lead guide, and it’s off to camp we go. He gives me that look and I can hear it in my mind: “Keep up, follow me and don’t get stuck. Oh, and while you’re at it, don’t forget to gather lots of firewood before camp, because we don’t use a stove and trainees are in charge of the cooking fire”.

Honeymoon in Cancun - Part 1

2009-12-13T10:00:00.000-08:00

Why read about my honeymoon? Well, it sure beats watching a video of the wedding.

Among the many, many issues I spent the summer before our wedding stressing about, not least of which was where Nicole and I should take our honeymoon. The day for our nuptials was in early September so that dropped us into one of the best seasons of the year to travel; the families are back in school, the rates have dropped into low season and the weather has yet to turn - let us use the term - poopy. Where to go? Where to go? Where to go?

This past year we'd finally brought canoes back into the shop at Clavey and I was pretty geeked to put together a trip into Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. But then again, if we're driving all the way to Idaho to get on the water, we might as well take a raft and get on the Main Salmon. I'd run the Lower Main years before but had never actually gotten on the River of No Return and had kicked myself every time I got an offer to go but couldn't get away for some silly reason (read: work). Of course Nicole and I had been talking about Tuscany, and with the economic earthquake of the past year, they were practically giving away trips to Italy. But then there's Catalina. I'd spent eight years sailing the island from my days in L.A. - each trip better than the last. Or we could sail the San Juans and the Gulf Islands in Canada. Or I could drive my car off the Golden Gate Bridge and then I wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

As I was contemplating the speed it would take to break over the side of the bridge, Nicole got a call from one of her bride's matrons (I know it sounds odd, but she's married and that's just good grammar), saying she had a timeshare just south of Cancun we could use if we wanted. I put the keys to the car back on their hook and began looking up flights. To be completely frank, Cancun wasn't the sort of place I wanted to go back when I was in high school. It wasn't the sort of place I wanted to go to when I was in college. Heck, it wasn't the sort of place I even wanted to go to when I was in the navy. I'm no teetotaler and before meeting Nicole (and not one moment after) I had been a fairly strong advocate of scantily clad, inebriated college girls enjoying a ribald time in the sun. But even at that, Cancun just wasn't for me. Until now obviously.

The wedding went off without a hitch, almost as though we got married every day. Nobody stood up to declare why we shouldn't get married. Nobody gave an embarrassing drunken toast involving a previous relationship before falling backwards into the cake. Over all it was probably 92% Martha Stewart, 5% Oprah and only 3% Jerry Springer. It was an awesome wedding. And bright and early the next morning we said our goodbyes, packed our bags and flew to Cancun.

Now, it's my understanding, that there was a time when you could walk up to the service counter of any major airline, show them your wedding band, flash a huge smile, tell them you're on your way to your honeymoon and they would grab your ticket, give you a wink and tell you they just bumped you up to first class. Well, I'm here to tell you those days are OVER. The look on the woman's face behind the counter told me she was probably getting ready to end her third marriage and wasn't about to help anyone who might be starting their first. Never the less, we sneaked a bottle of Nyquil past security and had no problem sleeping away the flight with the rest of the riffraff back in coach. By the time we arrived in Cancun, we were well rested and ready for whatever it was we were about to do, of which we had no idea.

As I was done researching post-wedding vacation spots by the time we committed to Cancun, I had no idea what to expect outside of the muy autentico dining experiences of places like Senor Frogs. I knew there was some diving. And I had a vague idea about some Mayan temples. That was about it. Luckily, we manage to stumble into a pack of feral time share sales people at the airport who were more than happy to give us all sorts of useful information. Oh and by the way, if we'd care to listen to a brief time share spiel, they would shower us with lavish gifts: Dinner, drink, spa treatments, the key to the city, their first born male child, the list goes on and on. Neither Nicole nor I had ever sat through the time share sales pitch before so we were kinda looking forward to it. This would end up being a vacation of many, many firsts.

After dropping off our bags at the resort, we found a Hertz in Playa del Carmen and traded the inconvenience of waiting for a bus in for a new Jeep (ah, the freedom of a vehicle). Now that we were truly unencumbered from immobility, we began our search for the ultimate tacos. Our Hertz guy sent us up the street to a little taqueria where the carne asada was muy el yummo. Satiated with bellies full of beef and beer, we began walking the town hoping maybe to get our gift shopping out of the way early. Just off the main calle we stumbled across a little shop packed with Talavera, the Mexican artisan pottery we had planned to look for for the kitchen. The plates and bowls were exactly what we wanted at the price we wanted, so of course we decided to shop around. Who knows how much time we wasted over the week looking at other Talavera before finally coming back to that little shop at Playa. Eventually we bought so much Talavera that the plane was actually listing to one side on the flight home.

Our second day we went shopping again, this time in Cancun. I don't remember anything specific that we bought but I can tell you, if you want to watch a Mexican vendor cry because of how he got beat up so bad on his prices that he had to sell one of his kids just to make up for the loss - then you want to go shopping with my wife. It was after the first piece of jewelry that we bought that I remembered how we met - at Clavey. I had somehow forgotten the way she had kicked me to the curb over the price of a kayak she was planning to buy. These poor guys who spent their lives haggling over prices didn't stand a chance. Whenever she would begin ask about prices, I would step outside. I couldn't bear to watch. After ten or so minutes, Nicole would step outside smiling, a new piece of silver around her neck or wrist. I would glance back into the store and catch a glimpse of the owner, his hand shaking as he tried to raise a glass of tequila to his lips, his shirtfront soaked from his own tears. After a couple tacos and couple beers we were ready to head back to the resort for the day.

I'm not one to ask for directions, even in a foreign city I've never been to. So I looked at the sun, I looked at the ocean and then I proclaimed, with confidence in my voice, "That way!" I put the key in ignition, turned the engine over and ten minutes later we were hopelessly lost in the sketchy barrios of Cancun. Eventually Nicole had had enough and insisted I pull over for directions. Forty minutes later we were back on the highway heading south.

The next morning we put the top down on the jeep and took off for Sian Ka'an, the Biosphere Reserve just south of the Mayan temples at Tulum. We paid our 25 pesos to get into the park, said goodbye to the pavement and made our way towards the estero where we would hop on a boat and head up the river to the freshwater Lagoon of Chunyaxche. Now, based on a knowledge of the Cancun area found only from the MTV Spring Break of my youth, I was surprised to find the surrounding area, which I will call the Yucatan Peninsula, stuffed full of some of the most interesting natural and historical locations I'd ever seen.

The Lagoon of Chunyaxche (please don't ask me to pronounce it) for example is 9sq miles of fresh water in the middle of the jungle that wells up from these sink holes, called cenotes, that are all over the place. And the river to get to it from the estero? The Mayans dug it out. See how that works? Nature and history coming together to create an awesome wedding gift just for Nicole and me. At the lagoon we drove around for little while looking for manatees, but after going 95% of the way for our honeymoon, I guess nature decided to cheap out on the extras.

On the way back, we stopped in at a little Mayan ruin on the river. My guess is, it was kind of like a starter temple - two really small rooms and some bats for ambiance. Then we jumped in the river and just floated for a couple miles soaking up the warm Mayan sun. After we got good and pruney, we jumped back in the boat, Nicole yelled, "Home James!", and we were off like a shot, back to the dock at Sian Ka'an. I don't recall what time we got back to the dock but it must have been fairly early because we had full day still ahead of us. Ariel, our local Mayan guide, had suggested a couple of great spots to hit later, away from the huge tourist resorts. Based on my prior history of driving around Cancun, Nicole suggested we might hire Ariel for the rest of the day if he could escape from Sian Ka'an. They said no problem. He just had to be back at work "manana" - which of course, based on my previous experiences in Mexico, could either mean tomorrow or next year.

It ends up, this wasn't Ariel's first day as a guide in the Yucatan. When the tires of the jeep finally hit pavement, we put the hammer down, racing back towards Cancun in an effort to get the most from the day and our guide. Slowing down only for the topes (the most serious speed bumps you've ever seen), we made our way to the snorkeling mecca of Akumal. This was the first time I'd ever seen a halocline, which I thought was more likely the result of a chemical spill nearby than the introduction of saltwater to freshwater. It looked like something out of science fiction movie. There you are snorkeling around the beautiful crystal blue waters with your new bride and then, from nowhere, a clear but gelatinous looking cloud appears in the water before you. 24 hours later you've become a giant avocado and Mayan zombies take you away to make to make human guacamole for their volcano gods. Actually, we never did turn into avocados but I was a little nervous since no one really seemed capable of explaining to me what we were seeing at the time.

After drying off from the sci-fi fish farm, we jumped back in the jeep and raced back towards Tulum in search of cenotes. Our first stop was Dos Ojos, which at 38 sq miles is one of the largest underwater cave systems in the world. Unfortunately, because of some national holiday, they were closed for the day. This is how Clark Griswold must have felt when he got to Wally World (Mexican businesses shut down for more holidays than any other except the United States Postal Service). They did offer a suggestion for a cenote that probably would be open. Ariel said he knew of it but had never been there so we gave it the old college try. If you were looking for suggestions on cenotes to dive on, this probably wouldn't be my first suggestions.

And in part two of this exciting story, you'll discovery why.

Did my nickname have to be Riverboy?

2009-11-24T05:44:00.000-08:00

My first time on the river, how it changed my life & I why I still begrudge Tom Meckfessel.

When I got out of the Navy in '92, and with no prior experience, I decided I wanted to be three things: mountaineer, big wall climber & whitewater kayaker. I didn't know any mountaineers or big wall climbers but my sister's boyfriend Tom was a river guide. Taking pity on her little brother, my sister invited me (against Tom's better judgement) on their upcoming float down the lower main Salmon. So I made my way up I-84 from the thriving metropolis of Troutdale, Oregon to the burg of Whitebird, Idaho where I met up with up with Tom, Elizabeth and their friends Danny and Viv. Addie, the best dog ever, and her deaf daughter Mae were their as well.

There were a total of three boats on the trip: an Avon Adventurer, Tom's drift boat and the state of the art kayak for the day, a Dancer XT. Unlike today's whitewater kayaks which are all flat on the bottom and excedingly stable, the kayaks of the 70s, 80s and early 90s were all designed based on the cigar, and had all the stabilty of a beach ball. When we put on the river at Hammer Creek I had never actually been in a kayak before. I did, however own a copy of William Nealy's Kayak, which I really thought would give me a solid leg up in lieu of experience. After all, I had looked over his cartoon instructions on how to roll a kayak on more than one occasion. You just stick the paddle out to the side and kind of pull back on it and then the kayak rights itself and you move on with your life. How hard could it be?

Tom has never been a big advocate of hanging around at the put-in. So rather than waste time with actual "hands on" instruction, he offered me some quality tidbits of paddle advice instead: point the kayak into waves and holes, keep the paddle in the water, and lean downstream. Between Tom Meckfessel's 30 Second Whitewater School and William Nealy's cartoon instruction book, the casual reader will no doubt be lead to believe that I instantly mastered the way of the kayak and went on to win the silver in the olympics later that summer. Based soley on the first rapid we encountered, anyone watching from the shore, would have assumed that I had been kayaking for years and that I was as well versed at playing in the water as any river otter.

That first rapid is called Rollercoaster. It's a long class II of big, fun, easy, rolling waves. Tom had given me three small tasks which he assured me would keep my head above water (As easy as explaining to one of the Matis tribespeople of the Amazon, who had never even sat in a car, the mechanics of driving said car in three simple steps: let out the clutch, give it some gas, point the wheels in the direction you want to go. Got it? Okay, welcome to Seattle. Have fun driving around the city). And just like the poor Matis indian who sideswipes a dozen cars before bring his vehicle to a gentle stop on the steps of the public library, I too was doomed to failure.

After the first couple of rollers, I turned the boat sideways to the waves, took the paddle out of the water and leaned upstream. If you're wondering what the fastest way to turn a kayak upside down is, I would highly recommend this method. It may not be the absolute fastest method but it'll guarantee results. I sat there underwater for a moment, bobbing down the river, the hand drawn instructions for rolling a boat playing through my head. I leaned forward. I pulled the paddle. And voila!, I was back on top of the water, paddling my way successfully through the remainder of the rapid.

Tom, Dan, Viv and my sister all cheered. Even the dogs looked impressed. I had never been in a kayak before in my life and within 90 seconds of getting on the water I had successfully completed my first combat roll. But, just like the perfect joke that escapes your lips accidentally that people might remember you for but never again receives a laugh no matter who you try to tell it to in the future, my history of rolling a kayak - upright at least - had come to an end. I swam 72 miles of Salmon and Snake rivers over the next five days.

Back in 1992 I was 21 years old, 50lbs lighter and had an unbelievable amount of energy. And that was good, because a person expends quite a bit of energy tipping a kayak over, trying to roll the kayak upright three or four times, wet exiting, pulling the kayak to the shore, dumping out all the water, putting the skirt back on and paddling back into the current - every 50 feet or so for 12 to 15 miles a day.

I don't remember where our first camp was - I actually don't remember where any of our camps were - but I do remember I still had some energy left over. Enough that that the rest of the group was looking for way to get rid of me so that they could have a little quiet time on the river. With the exception of my sister, no one else had any idea just how much I could talk, and the truth of the matter is, I could talk a lot. So when we got to camp that first day, and nobody could get me to shut up, Tom and Dan devised the Salmon River Challenge: a peak above all others, inaccessible to all but the most confident of the mountain goats, give me a time limit of an hour or two, and tell me they didn't think it could be done. And with that, they'd have their relaxing drinks on the river while playing cribbage and making dinner. After the sun set they would turn on their head lamps so I might have a better chance of making it back to camp (they knew my sister would make a fuss if I didn't make it back). And then I'd come limping back onto the beach. Bleeding. Bruised. Covered in poison oak. Ready for a beer.

And for all my effort, for all the swimming and the paddling and the near drowning and the forays into the wilderness while the others enjoyed their gin & tonics on the beach, for all that they gave me a nickname: Riverboy.

And for that, I will never forgive them.

How to make class V a little hairier

2009-10-27T16:48:00.000-07:00

I had an opportunity this summer to work on the Kern – not as a guide though – but as some sort of “manager”, thus ensuring that I would never get on the water. The Kern is broken into three sections: the Lower is below Lake Isabella, the Upper is above, and the Forks is pretty much the “Upper-Upper”.

Chris and Chandra pop out of the hole in Big Bean:

For day-trippers, the Kern is perfect because there are lots of access points and different runs, with everything from flat water to class V. The Forks is the only trip with difficult access and, for rafts, requires packing in with mules about two miles. It has great whitewater, is in a wilderness area (the Golden Trout), and is often considered one of the crown jewels of wilderness class V. As an outfitter, we don’t run very many trips on the Forks – it doesn’t fit well with the L.A. crowd scene.

At the end of April we decided to run a private Forks training trip. The date was set for May 12th. The cost of getting equipment (we use Avon Expeditions and Avon Adventures for our oar boats) down to the river is expensive so I wasn’t expecting my own boat. The numbers continued to go up though and at some point we discovered that, yes, we would need another oar boat and, yes, I would be taking it.

That was great news – for me (at the time), the only thing scarier than running big water was being someone’s passenger. Then, it turned out that my girlfriend wanted to go. Then, it turned out that my mother wanted to go. So I was left wondering exactly what the hell I had gotten myself into. They would be my paddle-assist and I now realized that the only thing scarier than being someone’s passenger is rowing your mother down class V.

Seven years ago my younger brother Matt and I ditched three days of high school, caught an Amtrak train to Bakersfield and a ride to Kernville to paddle-assist on the Forks. Looking back on the two days we had spent on the water all I could remember was a mango-salsa we had made at camp (must have been good) and Carson Falls, the very last rapid on the Forks. Not helpful.

Back to the present: After a day of packing-in (our Clavey oars and personal dry bags have to be hiked in), a night of sleep on the island (where the Little Kern meets the Kern, hence the “Forks”), and a jittery breakfast we pushed off and thus began the most nervous three days of boating I’ve ever had.

Ceremonial drinking of the Little Kern water:

The Forks is something incredibly special. When you’re not focused on the whitewater (rarely) you have a chance to catch a glimpse of a very dramatic and beautiful river canyon. The whitewater is, of course, one of the main draws to this section of river but it’s not what I would call “stupid-big”. The thing that is most impressive about the whitewater is how continuous it is.

A side-hike up Peppermint Creek led to this impressive waterfall:

From a statistics book, one probably wouldn’t predict the Forks to be as great as it is. The gradient is only 65 feet per mile and the run is only 18 miles. There are lots of rivers and creeks that match up and exceed both of these numbers. This is a great thing about rivers and creeks – they aren’t machines, you can’t just look at numbers, they’re dynamic and sometimes you just have to be there to see what they’re like. We like to look at rapids and say “this one’s class III, this one over here is class IV-, and so on…” and I could do that for every rapid I’ve seen, but what I would prefer and what is more meaningful to me is to just say that it is “big” water and - when your mother is in the boat - it is “bigger” water.

Continuous whitewater on the Forks of the Kern:

I have never boated the same river twice- unless you look at it geographically or by name- and I’m certain I will never boat the Forks the same way I did back in May – with my mother and girlfriend in the front sharing and living through the same whitewater and river canyon that I was. Sharing the moment when we watched, as the number two boat, the lead boat get surfed wildly at Vortex (one of the “big ones”) and lose the two bow paddlers just above The Gauntlet (another “big one”) and me screaming at them to get down and huddle in the front rather than paddle (I was terrified of accidentally knocking one of them out of the boat and was fairly certain I could keep the boat upright).

The peak of the trip for me was reaching the lead-in to Carson Falls, pulling over, and walking down the scout trail. The drop led into a huge lateral hole, which, if you hit it correctly, you would punch. Otherwise, you would end up going into “The Thing” – a large nasty pour-over covering the right side of the river. I picked out a marker and knew we could hit it. We did, but we did not have enough left-angle and the monster hole zipped us straight to the lip of The Thing.

Will, Dana, and Mary dropping into the hole in Big Bean:

A friend had hiked up from the road to take photos of the boats dropping Carson. He snapped a photo of our boat on the brink of The Thing. There is a look of horror on my face as I try to straighten the boat out, Dana looks shocked that we ended up where we did, and my mom… she’s giggling. I guess she knew we would end up just fine.

About to drop into The Thing:

Scotto's Bachelor Party on the T

2009-09-09T10:25:00.000-07:00

You can say what you want about the sanctity of marriage. You can say 50% of marriages end in divorce. You can say it’s an antiquated institution that’s no longer necessary in modern society. And to you I say this: If marriage is nothing more than an excuse to get all your best buds together to float some of the best whitewater in the world while pushing your liver to its limit, then I say it’s worth it (No honey, of course that’s not why we’re getting married).

We were loading boats and gear when those friends of mine who’re either irresponsible enough to take off work for a Thursday and Friday or unemployed enough not to have to, started showing up at Clavey HQ. There would be ten of us all together - Jeff and Tom of course; John Finger of Hog Island who can never say no to the possibility of not catching any fish; Frank Wheeler (the token Republican); our good buddy Tony Negro who would, in good buddy fashion, dutifully accept anything negative which might happen on the trip (ticket from the CHP, broken finger); my brother-in-law and public defender Mark Briscoe (he’d come in handy for sure); a couple of my barely employed buddies from LA, Crawford and Hansenmum; Michael Ingram, my physical doppleganger; and joining us on the second day of the trip would be Scott Armstrong of All Outdoors, who would row in with more beer and ice.

The Tuolumne is one of those funny rivers that isn’t really all that far away but always seems like it’s in another time zone whenever we start talking about a trip. A paltry four hours after shutting the doors at Clavey* we were rolling into Casa Loma. (*One of the fun things about closing the doors at Clavey for a long weekend is coming back to the complaints from the people who claim we’re never open when they come by. We’re open six days a week, all year long, with the exception of one to two river trips where we’ll close down on Friday and Saturday. This trip was no exception and we came back to the shop on Monday to a voicemail from a guy claiming he had driven to the shop from Wisconsin looking for an A-7 valve. You’d think it would be easier to have us ship it to him but some guys are looking for any excuse to get out of the house - “Honey, I’m gonna drive over to California for a five dollar part for the raft. Do you need anything?”

Tom had offered to make dinner for the All Outdoors Cherry Creek crew at the guide shack that night. Somehow Tom’s dinner became John’s dinner and we started our trip with Finger making an insane clam and spanish chorizo pasta and about four thousand raw oysters. We re-covered their gravel driveway with so many bivalve shells that future archeologists in the next millennium will come to the conclusion that Casa Loma was at one time covered by the Pacific Ocean. If I remember correctly, there may have been a beer in there somewhere also. If only I could remember correctly.

The take-out for Cherry Creek is the put-in for the Wild & Scenic run of the T. So Friday morning, Tony took off with the AO crew to run Cherry Creek while the rest of us took off for Meral’s Pool to rig the boats. The water on the Tuolumne is released from Hetch Hetchy and takes a few hours to fill the first rapid with enough water to make it almost runnable. So by the time the water began to rise, we knew the Cherry Creek crew wouldn’t be far behind. Tony’s a guy who’s run all the big runs in the Western US, but his brother’s drowning on Cherry Creek ten years previously had kept him from getting on the run himself. The first thing we saw on Tony’s boat as he rowed into Meral’s Pool that first morning was the huge shit eating grin on his face. With the exception of crushing the tip of his finger between the frame and the oar on the final rapid, they couldn’t have had a better trip.

I love the Tuolumne River. I love the camps. I love the whitewater. I love the hikes. But something I don’t love is the very first rapid, Rock Garden. I can’t think of better way to start a three day trip on a solid class IV river than to get stuck on the very first rapid. That must be why I do it every single freakin’ time. And this time was no exception. I was running a stern rig on an Avon Expedition with Briscoe, Ingram, Crawford and Hansenmum up front. Normally, a set up like this is perfect for the T - plenty of control from the oars and lots of power from the paddlers - but not me, not at Rock Garden. If you know the T, you know you come in right, hit this eddy that doesn’t exist in the center of the river after negotiating your way through a minefield of rocks, most of which are just below the surface and then run the left side which is totally choked with boulders but feels like the middle of the Pacific Ocean after making your way through the right side. In a perfect world, the first boater will hit the eddy, hop on the big rock and catch the stern line of the following boat and pendulum them into the eddy. That’s not the world I row my boat in.

Jeff, the old ex-T guide that he is, missed all the rocks and then slipped his boat perfectly into the eddy, hopped onto the big rock and waited for my stern line to be thrown his way. He’d be waiting for a while. About fifteen feet into a quarter mile rapid, I crabbed an oar, spun the boat 180º from where I needed to be and lost Crawford to a rock on the middle river. As luck was with me, it was then that I completely lost my downstream oar and bounced right past the eddy I so desperately wanted to be sitting in. About this time, two words came to mind and the first one rhymed with truck. One good thing about Rock Garden at this level, you don’t have to worry about going too far the wrong way - you’re bound to get caught on something and we were no exception. Its funny how you spend years on the river trying to stay away from the rocks and the one time you want to be actually stuck on a rock so you can take a breath, survey the situation, maybe put your oar back in the oarlock, someone will begin bouncing up and down like a five year old on an inflatable jumpie, trying to get the boat dislodged. “Hey! Stop that!” The offended paddler looked back at me momentarily and then began bouncing up and down again. What is it about men that even the laziest of us will gladly chip in to help when our help is desperately unwanted. I explained myself a little more clearly the second time, put my oar where it might be a touch more useful and threw a line to Jeff who was clearly excited to be starting the trip in such an auspicious manner. We got my boat in the eddy, gave Crawford a quick lesson in ,“How to hold on to a throw rope while being pulled across a raging river”. He heard about every third word I said but figured the gist of the conversation was, “Don’t let go”. And then we got back in the boat for the remaining 95% of the rapid.

Remember when I described the left side of Rock Garden as the Pacific Ocean? That being the case, I first hit Hawaii and then careened off Tahiti, the Marquesas and seven other lesser known Society Islands before finally jamming the boat between Australia and New Zealand. Thirty minutes later all said and done and we were finally through the first rapid. At this rate it would take us just under a month to get to camp. And of course if they turn on the water at Hetch Hetchy it means they at some point are going to turn off the water as well.

Rock Garden made me take a hard look at my rowing, my paddlers, my boat, the weight in my boat. I decided we couldn’t go into Nemesis with all the weight we currently had in the boat and made the crew lighten our load by exactly five cans of beer. The overburden of beer had clearly been the issue because we were now at the top of our game, punching holes, surfing waves avoiding all but the most inviting of rocks.

I’m one of those guys that, no matter how many times I run a river, I can remember a grand total of maybe three rapids. On the Tuolumne I remember Rock Garden, I remember Clavey and I spend the rest of the time shouting over to Tom or Jeff, “What’s the story here?” I don’t bother asking the name. I’m happy if I can remember, “Go left, move right, avoid the big hole in the center”. All I can tell you about anything between the debacle at the first rapid and Clavey is that we must have gone left, moved right and avoided the big hole in the center. In the midst of Ram’s Head, Tony and Frank were getting awfully warm so Tom was nice enough to oblige them with a swim. I would have waited for the pool at the bottom of the rapid, but I’m not as adventurous as some. At Clavey we took a brief scout and hit it perfect. Or so I was told. When we hit the hole, I came flying off the slant board and spent the remainder of the rapid trying to get up off the floor. And those are the three rapids I can remember.

We pulled into camp at Indian Creek and began running our livers through the gauntlet. The key to drinking and not getting fall-over, sloppy, drunk, is to involve yourself in some form of rigorous challenging exercise intensive sport followed by a light meal. We played bocci ball and ate 2 lb ribeyes. The bocci ball was intense. For my bachelor party I had surrounded myself with whitewater warrior athletes and I couldn’t remember a time when the competition had been more fierce. Of course, I couldn’t remember the last rapid we had run before getting to camp either. But I could sure remember those steaks. They were pretty good like Michael Jordan was a pretty good basketball player.

The next two days were more of the same. Fantastic food. Cold beer. Awesome rapids. And great friends. Scott Armstrong rowed in that second morning with more provisions in his cooler, sitting on the floor of his boat...not even strapped down. It wasn’t like it was jammed between the thwarts either. His boat had two thwarts - one under his seat and one in the center to brace his feet on on. The cooler was just sitting there in front of the center thwart, just sitting there. Believe me when I tell you a cooler sitting on a flaccid boat floor is not a stable platform to jump on from one boat to another. And let me tell you something else: if you ever have an injured person on your trip and you don’t want them to ruin everybody else’s good time, you want Tony Negro to be that injured somebody. He’s the most stoic bastard you ever seen. The Monday after getting off the river, he went to get his hand x-rayed. The single tip of his finger had become multiple tips of the same finger. God help the group if I get a hangnail. You will not hear the end of how much I’m suffering. But not Tony. Showoff.

Mr. Armstrong, Mr. Kellogg, Mr. Meckfessel, Mr. Negro, Mr, Wheeler, Mr. Ingram, Mr. Finger, Mr. Briscoe, Mr. Crawford & Mr. Hansenmum, thank you gentlemen so very much for an unforgettable bachelor party. My only question is, we own a freaking rafting equipment company, why do I always have to get married for us to shut the doors and get on the water?

The Milky Way in Tomales Bay

2009-08-25T09:09:00.000-07:00

More stars in the water then there were in the sky.

Nicole and I pulled into the parking lot at Nick's Cove right on the money at 6:30 for our bioluminescence kayak tour on Tomales Bay. There was Jeff unloading kayaks from the Clavey trailer and most of our guests were in small groups chatting it up about the upcoming light show. We left Sebastopol at 85º and sunny a half hour earlier and now we were getting out of the car under the cold low clouds of Tomales Bay. We thought perhaps these weren't the best conditions but Scott Terriberry, our guide, was giddy with excitement. "No stars, no ambient light," he said, with the animation of a schoolboy waiting for his favorite NBA star to stop by the house, "makes for absolutely perfect conditions. We simply couldn't ask for more." His enthusiasm was contagious. We pulled on our gear, grabbed our kayaks and made our way to the rest of our group - one of the many heading out that night.

People have been asking us for years, " Do you do tours? Do you offer classes? Can you teach me how to roll?" And for years the answer was always the same - "No. No. No." But then the stars aligned and a couple of guides and instructors we'd always admired got freed up from their prior commitments and before you could say, "Yes. Yes. Yes.", we had ourselves an outfitter's permit, some insurance and a heck of a lot of sign ups. And so here we were on a moonless, cloudy night on Tomales Bay waiting for the sun to finally set so the show could begin.

Scott likes to begin any evening paddle in the light of day. This way everyone can actually see where it is they're going and get a feel for what the area looks like before nature turns out the lights. Sure we've all got headlamps, and they're top notch headlamps too, but they don't really replace the light of day. So with the sun still up there behind the clouds, Scott gets us all together for a little talk about safety, what to expect, how to stay together, etc. He traces our route across the bay with his finger, pointing out the oyster beds, the beaches, the gulch, the island. And with that all said and done, we carry our boats down to the water and away we go.

Once on the bay, Terriberry assigns everybody a number (I'm 15). So when the lights go down, we can all check in easily - all present and accounted for. The momma duck would hate to lose her babies. And with that the tour begins in earnest. Time: 7:30ish

In this group of 17 people the stats break down as such: 3 trained guides, 2 canoeist (in 1 canoe), 5 intermediate kayakers, 3 whitewater boaters and 4 beginners. 10 people (including canoeists) had their own boat. All 17 people were stable, comfortable and confident once we got on the water.

We leisurely paddled through the eel grass, over to the oyster beds and across to an officially unnamed beach unofficially named Pine Flat. By now the sun had set and the darkness quickly enveloped us. We counted off (15!) and Scott showed us how we could see the bioluminescence even in the beach as we dragged our feet back and forth in the wet sand. Cool! Time enough to squeeze the bladder dry and then back into the kayaks.

The water around my paddle blade explodes with light as I dip it into the bay. Awesome! I take another paddle stroke and thousands (maybe millions) of tiny one celled creatures light up in protest (or in frivolity for all I know) around each dip of the blade. I look over at Nicole's boat. The hull glows as it scoots through water. Motivated for light, I pick up the pace of my paddle strokes, pushing the kayak as fast as my little arms can make it go. My boat lights up like I'm in some sort of low tech Christmas parade. It reminds me of my childhood: dragging my pug, Chowder, across the carpet of the living room on one of those remarkably cold, dry, winter nights. The poor dog lit up like Chernobyl as static electricity from his fur and the carpet brought the darkened room back into the light. But this paddle on Tomales Bay was way better. First off, no pugs we're terrified in the glowing of light. And second, we were about to paddle into White Gulch and the the bioluminescence was about to go off the charts. Or as they say in Spinal Tap, "It goes to 11."

As we've all been totally riveted to the lightshow, Scott wants to make sure no one wandered off so we do another headcount (15!) before heading into the shallow mossy, fish filled water of White Gulch. All present. And now for the headline act. The bioluminescence explodes around the fish as they dart from our boats. Terriberry yells out as one of the little bastards jumps onto his lap. The silence of the evening is broken with cries of, "Look at this! Right here! Look at that. Oh my god!"

Originally, I had wanted to describe our experience with the bioluminescence as fireworks in the water. But the bioluminescence of the greater bay was but mere sparklers to the New Years Eve at Times Square that was the waters of White Gulch. Terriberry herded us into a little area he knew was thick with moss. Plunge your hand into the water and pull it out with great gob of moss and it drips bioluminescence like radioactive diamonds back down your arm and into the waters from whence it came. I pick up a glowing mass of moss and throw it at Nicole - I mean, if you're going on 40 years old and as excited as you were when you were 8 and walking into Disneyland for the first time, why not act like it?

The oohs and ahhs finally fade to the suggestion that we might paddle back to Nick's Cove and get a drink (I think it was me), and we all make the slow turn back to towards the cormorants of Hog Island and finally back to the dock. We load the kayaks and gear back onto the trailer while the rest of our paddlers huddle back into small chattering groups of excitement.

The feeling from everyone is identical: This was a tour impossible to describe properly and improbable that you might ever go on one better. A bioluminescence kayak tour on Tomales Bay is like the first time you meet a big celebrity - something you'll never forget and will tell everyone about for the rest of your life.

Tales of the Janitor or Confessions from the Stand Up Paddleboard

2009-07-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

Posted by Tom Meckfessel

I arrive at one of my local surf breaks (one that I usually avoid because of the crowds -but it’s the perfect spot to SUP) at about a quarter to six in the morning. The drive from Point Reyes to Bolinas at this time of day can be as spectacular as my time on the water; the Olema Valley is covered with wisps of ground fog and I have to break for the occasional coyote. If I hadn’t checked my Mac for the surf report before I left the house, I would still know the surf was going to be smallish at best by how easily I find a place to park near the beach. And sure enough, the surf is small and there is nobody on the beach but me. These conditions are perfect for my paddleboard.

The beauty of Stand Up Paddling (or SUPing) is that it just doesn’t matter if there isn’t any surf because you can still go out, have some fun and get a good workout. I suit up and paddle out. The full moon is setting behind the Bolinas Mesa while the sun is rising over the Bolinas ridge and the early morning light is soft and yellow. I paddle out to the “patch”, a section of Duxbury reef known for its long gentle rollers. The view one gets from the stand up position is really quite unique. Because you are, in my case, six feet off the water and able to see approaching swells and sea life from a whole new angle. The water below me teams with life: harbor seals swimming about and fish swimming near the surface with the four ospreys checking them out from above. I catch a couple of small waves and am then buzzed by an enormous Stellar Sea Lion who swims right at me showing off a 3’ leopard shark that he has in his mouth. I feel a bit safer on the Stand Up – it nice not to have your legs dangling in the water for a change. I catch a few more nice long rollers and then decide to paddle over to the mouth of the lagoon just for the exercise. On the way, a pod of dolphins swims by. As far as different ways to start the day go, this rates pretty high.

Stand Up Paddle Boarding most likely got is start in the early days of Polynesia and is considered by many to be the original form of surfing. In the 1960’s the Waikiki beach boys used stand up boards to help manage surf classes, take photos of clients and gain a better view of incoming swells. In the past nine years Stand Up Paddling has had a resurgence with the help of surfing legends, Laird Hamilton and Gerry Lopez who are definitely pushing the limits of the sport - SUPing Teahapoo, SUPING the Grand Canyon. It’s also become popular in flat water conditions due to the fact that SUPing is an unbelievable core workout.

Surfing a SUP and paddling one in flat water involve a few similar skills (stance and paddle stroke) but differ greatly in board design and learning curve. I’ve surfed most of my life and can tell you that surfing a SUP is a little more difficult, a bit dangerous, involves quite a bit of practice and can humble the best of us. If you plan to venture out in the surf on a SUP make sure that you first have good wave knowledge and, most importantly, stay away from other people in the water until you have learned to control your board and kick out of a wave. Most beginning SUPs are around 12’ long and weigh 40lbs and in the hands of the inexperienced can be a formidable weapon.

SUPs that are designed for surfing are basically a long, wide, thick surfboards that range in length from 10’ – 12’6”. Because these boards are designed for the surf they have quite a bit of rocker so you are able to turn them once you catch a wave. While some of these boards work well in flat water they tend to push water in front of them (because of the rocker and upturned nose) and have a rather short water line (amount of board contacting the water) for their length. Flat water SUPs, like the Tahoe Rubicon, are designed with a displacement hull – like a kayak – and have much more board in the water. They are also flatter with little or no rocker. This all translates into a board that is more stable, tracks better and much faster in flat water conditions.

Paddles designed for the SUP are basically long canoe paddles that usually have a 20° bend at the throat of the paddle. This bend allows the paddle face to be perpendicular to the water when taking a stroke. The length of the paddle rages from 8” to 10” taller than the paddler depending on if you’re surfing or cruising. Here at Clavey our favorite paddle is the Sawyer QuickDraw Zephyr. Besides being beautiful, light and super strong, the Quick Draw adjusts from 63” to 90”, making it the only SUP paddle you’ll ever need.

The beauty of Stand Up Paddling is its simplicity. Board, paddle, water. That’s all you need. I’ve got more outdoor gear than the average REI store, so to me the simplicity of the sport is its beauty. As a guy who deals with gear all day on a regular basis, the idea of a new sport that involved so little equipment was - to say the least - very appealing, and not just to me. Drive by the Petaluma River in the afternoon and you’ll most likely find someone from Clavey HQ paddling down the river on a paddleboard. Come join us and rent or demo a board and check this sport out for yourself !

Reflections of Food and Water by Tom Meckfessel

2009-06-17T11:55:00.000-07:00

Cookin' on the river - ain't nuthin' better.

I pretty much grew up in the “gourmet ghetto” of the bay area. When I was a child living in Marin I used to take trips with my mom over to Berkeley just to buy coffee from Peet’s or cheese at the Cheeseboard. I spent countless hours thumbing through Diane Kennedy’s “Cuisines of Mexico” and watching Julia Child cook on TV. I appreciated good food but spent more time watching my mom cook than actually cooking. That would all change when I started working as a river guide.

Through a strange series of events I ended up working for a small river outfitter out of Bolinas. We were a gypsy company that would load up the Suburban at the beginning of the summer and head north doing trips in California, Oregon, Idaho and Alaska. I was on cloud nine as I spent my summers running rivers with one of the most eclectic groups of guides and clients ever assembled. And, one of the best parts about this small company was that they were almost as obsessed with food as I was.

While often compromising on appearance and equipment, James Henry River Journeys never cut corners on food. Everything was made on the river. I never saw a bottle of salad dressing on a JHRJ trip and we were one of the first companies to run wine tasting gourmet trips. In the early years it used to take us 4 days to shop for a Tatshenshini trip in Seattle driving all over the place to pick up just the right ingredients. We would then pack up the sole suburban with everything needed for a 14 day, 24 person trip (including, boats, frames, gear) and put it on the ferry up to Haines, AK.

I quickly learned the ropes on how to cook for large groups and found that the place I was most comfortable was in the kitchen. For almost 20 years I cooked my way down some of the most beautiful rivers in the world and to this day cannot separate food and running rivers. When Team Clavey gets the itch to go boating the first thing I do is start thinking of the menu. And while everybody loves being on the river on a nice hot summer day, I find it most enjoyable to cook on cold weather trips: November Rogue trips with aged rib eyes on the fire pan and single malt scotch, April Illinois trips with Chile Verde from the dut ch oven and homemade tortillas, halibut chowder for our Tashenshini expeditions and floating the Brooks Range with Ptarmigan Paella.

Paella has become my single favorite dish – mainly for the reason that it's a one pan meal that’s both rustic and elegant – and, if done right, tastes phenomenal. Even though I’d been cooking paella for a number of years I had never thought seriously about making it on the river. Paella, for those of you who may not know, is a Spanish rice dish that is cooked (traditionally over an open fire) in large, shallow circular pans. It is difficult to cook on the river because you really need two fire pans side by side to handle a decent sized group. Last summer I got invited to organize a trip on the Marsh Fork of the Canning, above the Arctic Circle in the Brooks Range. After years of talking about paella on the river, I finally put on a pair of man-pants and made the ultimate decision - We would be eating paella in Alaska.

Weight, when flying into the Alaskan bush, is always an issue, so taking two large fire pans was definitely out of the question. Instead, we went old school and built a pit fire with a fold out grill to hold our 22” pan. My good friend Jim (who introduced me to paella and also convinced me to start my own paella catering company, Paella del Reyes) and I were the designated cooks on the trip and we decided that we would do two paellas on the trip – one traditional and one with ptarmigan (if we could bag some) as the main ingredient. We also decided that we could use the 22” pan as our general skillet.

We had the pan pretty well disguised when we were loading the bush planes in Fairbanks but that did not keep the pilots from asking us what the f*#k was in the green bag. When we told them it was a paella pan the conversation quickly deteriorated and included such comments as, “you MUST be from California” and “did you bring a sword to go along with your shield?” To make a long story short, we had two great paella feasts – both around midnight – and we did have some unforgettable ptarmigan paella up above the arctic circle.

As a side note: Hunting ptarmigan in the Alaskan bush is not terribly difficult as the birds are pretty much everywhere. But regardless of the sheer number of the little buggers, you can take it from me - “Safety Tom” - that you’ll find your hunting success multiplied, not just by how close you get to the birds, and not solely by your aim, but mostly whether or not you’ve taken off the safety when you pull the trigger.

And it’s inspiring advice like that, that keeps you coming back to the Clavey blog.

Uncle Owen, this R2 unit has a bad motivator!

2009-05-27T17:42:00.000-07:00

I’m a big fan of the R2. Two people, one small boat, lots of harmony (lots of swimming).

Don’t get me wrong, I like to row. I like the sole responsibility of taking my boat through the rapids. I like the ability to carry more gear, beer and food than I can possibly need for my time on the water. I like being able to carry people who can’t boat and dogs that can’t swim. I like the feel of a floating ’74 Country Squire station wagon when I’m on any river for more than a day. But I also love the R2 and here’s why:

I’ve got a 12 foot Avon Scout. I can roll that boat up, stuff it in a boat bag and take it anywhere in the world. I can get it on the water before you even have your frame strapped down. At the take out, I’m off the water and on the road before you’ve even humped your cooler up to the parking lot. I love the simplicity. I love the simplicity. I love the simplicity. I don’t have to give a bunch of thought to getting on the river. I don’t have to weight the time and hassle of getting all my gear together against the small amount of actual river time. My R2 question for getting on the river is super simple. Am I willing to drive? Yes or no to that one and I’m either getting on the river or working in the garden.

The R2 time on the water is totally different from my 15’ Expedition time on the water. Am I gonna run Rainey Falls in with four days worth of gear, my girlfriend and two dogs? Not if I still plan on marrying the same girl. But you throw me and my girl in a little rubber sports car and we’re happy to sign up for the guaranteed flip & swim.

Here in Northern California the quickest whitewater to get to is the South Fork of the American and that trip can get pretty boring pretty quick. But shrink down the size of your boat and suddenly you’re on a whole new ride. The holes look bigger. You’ve got whole new tight routes you can take. Anywhere you see kayakers surfing, you can duck into the eddy and jump on the waves as well. And unlike a gear boat, you’re not all stressy about flipping. Heck, flipping’s just part of the fun. Flipping, swimming, it’s just like being a kid again.

Dogs Love Rafting...

2009-05-06T23:10:00.000-07:00

Not my dogs. But I’ve seen big yellow labs having a great time on the water.

When I proposed to my girlfriend and she said yes, I suddenly had an instant family: Two step dogs and two and three quarters step cats. The cats are no big deal. Feed ‘em. Pet ‘em. Clean up after ‘em. But the dogs are a different story. Nicole likes to take the little fluffy darlings with her when she goes up to the mountain, out to the beach, through the woods. And as Nicole and I have been having a great time out and about and on the water, she thought maybe we could teach some old dogs some new tricks...She was mistaken.

Technically speaking, a Subaru Outback is a station wagon. It is not, however, the Country Squire I spent my childhood driving across the country with my parents, three siblings, German shepherd and everything we needed for a month at the lake. Loading a Subaru Outback with everything you need for an overnight river trip is a snug fit but it works. Loading a Subaru Outback with everything you need for an overnight river trip and two mid-sized dog takes a little imagination. I suggested we tie the dogs to the top of the car with the frame, cooler and dry bags, but that wasn’t met with the sort of positive response I was hoping for. So the dogs would need some room inside the car and they seemed to be totally incapable of squeezing in on top of the kind of overnight package I’d put together in the past. It was obvious I would have to make some concessions.

To begin, I chose a smaller raft (the 13’ Avon Drifter) and decided on a day frame with only one bay (for the cooler) instead of a frame with an extra bay for the drybox (as I no longer had room in or on my car for the drybox). The boat, kitchen bag, dry bag o’ wood, water jug, dog stuff, and dogs all got stuffed into the back of the ‘Back. The frame, cooler, personal drybags and oars all got tied to the top. And for the two and a half hour jaunt up to Chili Bar, I longed for the days of the Country Squire.

When we first pushed the boat from shore Bonnie and Indigo (my step-dogs) were all kinds of bright-eyed and bushy tailed, waiting with bated breath for this new adventure to unfurl itself before them. Unfortunately, what unfurled in the first half mile, was not the big frisbee-like unfurling that they had been, no-doubt, anticipating.

The South Fork of the American was running a little over three grand that day in mid-April, which is a great level if you want to put in a few miles. Higher than your typical summer weekend flow, 3K adds a little meat to some of the rapids and washes out others. When I stuffed the bow of the little Avon into that first hole at Meatgrinder, the puppies made it immediately clear this was not what they signed up for. Fortunately for them, there was barely another 20 miles and two days left on the trip.

As the lion’s share of river trips any intelligent rafter will go on happen in the summer, a serious concern is hyperthermia - the overheating of your dog. And the biggest advantage of any decent doggy life jacket is the carrying handle - with this you can easily dip your pooch in the drink for a nice cooling off and then pull them back aboard, letting them show you their appreciation with a satisfying shake. We, of course, didn’t have any worries about overheating as we were rafting in temperatures in the mid-60s. After that first deluge of whitewater, the poodle cowered into a hypothermic ball of shivering wet hair and the Aussie crawled on to my lap, unimpressed with my need to row. Nicole and I were genuinely worried about the condition of the children, as their lack of a good time was quickly becoming our lack of a good time. Fortunately, we soon discovered the secret of canine happiness when we pulled the boat to shore. Once on dry land, life sprang back into them as they ran around peeing on everything that couldn’t move out of the way. We filled their little water bowl with river water (don’t ask), tossed the frisbee a bit and the little furmeisters were as happy as ever. The frequent landing of rubber on sand, it appeared, was the key to happy animals.

At camp, we repeated the transformation of the cold, lifeless lumps into frisky, inappropriately barking dogs once again (if this had been a hot day in July, we would have made the dogs wade to shore, preventing their feet from burning on the blistering hot sand). We set up our tent, laid the dog bed at the foot of our doublewide sleeping bag and then I threw the frisbee until my wrist finally could flick no more. The following morning our poodle, who is not normally much of a morning doggy, had an especially hard time getting out of bed (like she’d been pulling the oars all day).

I would have to say the second day went considerably better for the dogs than the first, as I made a concerted effort to keep the little barkers dry. Never-the-less, even with my added effort to pull hard so there was nary a drop on their shiny little coats from the various holes and waves that we threaded between on the second ten miles, I think this first rafting trip for the dogs may also be their last. If only I could talk Nicole into a lab.

GPS 101

2009-04-30T11:44:00.000-07:00

Learn the basics of the hand-held waterproof marine GPS.
May 13th, 6:30 - 8:30 PM at Clavey River Equipment. Space is limited so sign up now

Trip Report: Middle Fork of the Feather

2009-04-23T09:50:00.000-07:00

Middle Fork of the Feather, April 2009

Tom from Clavey recently did a 3 day run on the Middle Feather. This is a recap of the trip written by Robyn Suddeth. For more photos of the trip go to Clavey's Photo Gallery.

I had already made other plans for the weekend. My bags were packed and carpool was set for a beginner’s kayaking school on the Kern River, and I was even getting a great deal on the class (i.e. free). But when Scott A called up and said, “We’re trying to put together a Middle Feather trip for this weekend… you in?” I really only hesitated about a minute before replying, “100 Percent, I’m definitely in.”

I had been curious about the Middle Feather for a long time. It’s hard not to be when Holbeck and Stanley describe it as the “Best Multi-day Wilderness Run in California” and “one of the most beautiful rivers in California”, and rumor on the street is it’s “as hard as Cherry Creek, and totally committing.” For me, that last statement means: “An adventure!” My mom still asks me, whenever I go on a trip like this, why I am at all inclined to think they are fun. I tell her: “It makes life more interesting.” Truthfully, I think these kinds of trips bring out the best in a lot of us.

Either way, I was very, very excited. By Friday morning, we had a fantastic rag-tag group of eleven people – the best of the skilled, brave, and/or crazy – committed and meeting in Chico that night.

The dinner and breakfast in Chico before the trip were veritable feasts – we knew we were going to have to pack pretty light. Luckily we had a shuttle set up for us, so all we had to do after breakfast was load up Tom’s Clavey van and Scott’s truck, and get ourselves to put-in.

Like a lot of these committing Class V runs seem to do, the Middle Feather flowed wide and calm for the first few miles downstream of put-in, inducing a state of lackadaisical relaxation before shocking us right back into alert attention. The first Class V we got to was a long, fast-moving wave train that led directly into one of the more horrific looking boulder jumbles I’ve ever seen. There was a potential, very small airplane-turn line through there, but we decided instead to purposefully eddy out on the left at the bottom of the wave train, hump our boat over a few inconvenient rocks, and run a much kinder drop on the left side below the eddy.

The rest of the day had some big rapids in store for us, and as a paddler in the lead boat we caught a fair share of eddies that would have much better suited a small kayak, but nothing “as hard as Cherry Creek” had appeared quite yet. One of the last rapids of the day caught all of us by surprise; after the river seemed to mellow out and leave its first canyon, a sharp, riffled bend led into an abrupt horizon line. Adam, Kevin and I managed to catch a small eddy on the right and Kevin and I grasped on to the willows for dear life as Adam climbed out to scout, but the next two rafts came barreling down fairly quickly, and had to run based on Adam’s shouts and hand signals from shore. Luckily Adam, Scott and Jordan (the guides) all seemed adept at understanding each other’s arm-waving, and everyone had a good run.

Soon after we found camp – an old miner’s spot that, while a bit trashed, had a bunch of flat, wonderfully grassy camps amidst shady oak trees. It was a great spot. Some of the guys tromped off to fish while the rest of us began warming up by the fire and a few kind individuals took on dinner. Biggest catch of the evening was a whopping 7 inches long, but it sure tasted good with the thermos of whiskey being passed around.

On Day 2, we got our first taste of truly big, Class V rapids. Shortly after leaving camp, we found ourselves in “Franklin Canyon”, whose first Class V is Franklin Falls. The Cassidy Calhoun book writes this rapid up as a recommended portage for rafts, but it looked run-able. One raft in our group decided to push their boat, while the other two ran. Turned out to be a great line right down the middle of the falls.

The walls of Franklin canyon are steep and wooded, every once in a while allowing a glimpse of snow-capped mountains peaking above the river’s enclosing ridgelines. Side streams and creeks tumbled down through the trees and into the canyon so often that I eventually realized it was not all that exciting for the other two people in the boat if I pointed each of them out. I was lucky to have any time to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings, though. There was no shortage of horizons, and we found ourselves constantly paddling back and forth across the lip of a big drop, trying to boat scout as many rapids as possible. (I even had to embarrass myself the next morning and request that we forward-paddle some more that day to give my back-paddling muscles a little bit of a break.)

The biggest adventure of the day, and in fact the trip, came at the end of day 2. We reached the obvious and most-often used campsite, where the Pacific Crest trail crosses the river, at about 5 pm. This footbridge and campsite signify the beginning of Devil’s Canyon- the third and most committing gorge of the trip. But a certain participant (to remain anonymous) had a vague memory of a “really awesome ledge camp” somewhere downstream. “How far downstream?” we asked, to which we received the answer “Not sure… but within a few miles I think.” Hmmm… it had taken us about 10 hours already that day to go about the same amount of miles, so “a few miles” was not insignificant.

However, we knew we had a pretty decent portage to deal with the next day, so the closer we could get to take-out that night, the better. We stalled out in the eddy for a few minutes, pondering our little predicament. Finally, Colin said, “I’m up for pushing on.” And that was that; the decision was made. We peeled out of the eddy and pushed on into Devil’s Canyon.

Literally about a quarter of a mile downstream, all indication of potential camping spots completely disappeared from our sights. The canyon walls changed from forest to granite, and became disconcertingly steep. Just as the light in the canyon took on the low purple hue of early evening (quite a wonderful time of day to be relaxing on a beach, really, rather than paddling through cold and extremely challenging whitewater), we happened upon some of the biggest rapids we would encounter in the entire trip.

Very aware of our waning daylight, we began pushing ourselves more than we would under “normal” circumstances. Adam (and by necessity myself and Kevin as his faithful paddlers) led the trip as if we were in a kayak rather than a 14 foot raft. The thing about a raft is that it cannot really catch tiny eddies in the middle of rapids as deftly as its smaller plastic cousins. Translation: if you drop into something without seeing the bottom, you are almost certainly committed to the entire rapid no matter what you find below that entrance.

It was exciting to say the least; heart-pounding like almost no other hour of paddling I’ve ever done. (Maybe comparable to the first time I ever went down Cherry Creek, which for comparison, was also the first time I had ever experienced Class V whitewater.) I don’t even know how many rapids we pushed through in that hour and a half. I do, however, remember the scariest one. The washout for this rapid was so far below and downstream of us that we felt that we really couldn’t get away with just scouting from our boat. Kevin and I held on to the raft as Adam began climbing over the boulders on river right to get a look. The other two rafts eddied out upstream, and Jordan walked down river-left from a ridge about 40 feet above the water’s edge. Neither he nor Adam were able to get to a place where they could really see the middle part of the rapid.

Here is what we knew: 1) The bottom was clean; 2) There was definitely at least a kayak line because there was no reported portage in this section in any of the write-ups; 3) There was only one drop wide enough for a raft to fit through at the top of the rapid; 4) We were cold; 5) There was no where in the immediate vicinity to camp, aside from our rafts.

Here is what we didn’t know: 1) What the middle of the rapid, from the very top of the entrance drop to about 15 longitudinal and probably also 15 vertical feet downstream, looked like.

We decided to give it a go. After I kicked my back foot underneath the thwart about ten times to be sure I was really in there, we began paddling out into the current, and over to the entrance drop on river left. Amazingly, the drop was very clean, and fun. Adam had to ask for some quick back-paddling to stay off a boulder directly below the first drop, but otherwise it was no bigger than you’re every day, no big deal, Class V rapid. The exhilaration of making it through was amazing!

Luckily, we spotted a very tiny beach about 15 minutes downstream from there, and made the executive decision that this was “Ledge Camp”. Everyone was pretty happy to have found any flat ground at all, and dinner that night tasted just as good as the feast we had before we left Chico, even if it was just river fajitas. (The next day we found out exactly where those ledges really were – 7 miles from the Pacific Crest Trail, RIGHT above portage. And, there happened to be a smaller portage just around the corner from our beach, so we were very lucky to have stopped when we did!)

Day 3 afforded us a little more time to appreciate the splendor of Devil’s canyon in full daylight. Waterfalls dropped from granite cliffs and painted stripes of green algae against canyon walls. Deep pools shone their true blue-green against the light-colored rocks, and dark forests still covered the hillsides beyond the canyon. I would say that the Middle Feather truly gets better and better with each day, surprising you with its ability to do so.

Due to our little adventure the night before, we reached portage with plenty of time, and were able to have a nice relaxing lunch at the bottom. The write-ups all call the portage “strenuous” and some even go so far as to say “heinous”. As much as I would love to be able to disagree, I cannot. It truly is heinous. The trail is narrow, high above the river, dusty, and looooong. We had to completely de-rig the boats, carry each one sideways along the sketchy trail, and then go back for all the gear. However, three days on that river are completely worth the effort!

After portage there is a last stretch of really big rapids, ending with “Grand Finale” just a mile above take-out. Helicopter, a mandatory Class V, is an intimidating bend in the river with three significant-looking holes but with a lot of gradient and water flushing through. Everyone had great runs in there, although Mike had forgotten to close a certain key zipper on his drysuit after a mid-scouting pee break, which was apparently quite a shock in the final hole. There were a few high-water type maneuvers in the last Class V section as well, forcing us to run from one side of the river to the other and back again to avoid a few scary-looking holes. And that last rapid is truly a “Grand Finale,” not just named such because of its location.

By take-out I was probably more sore than I had ever been before, but happily so. I am in complete agreement with Holbeck and Stanley that the Middle Feather is, in fact, the best wilderness run in California. It is truly continuous Class IV-V in the heart of its canyons, and incredibly scenic. If given the chance, I think all of us would have gone right back up to put-in and started the trip all over again. Wouldn’t change a thing… except maybe to find those mysterious ledges just a “few” miles downstream of the entrance to Devil’s Canyon…

If you've got a sweet Clavey Rig you don't need a Ferrari

2009-04-16T10:28:00.000-07:00

The Clavey Rig: The best rafting package ever? Yes.

If that sounds pretentious, it's because you don't already have your own sweet Clavey Rig pimped out on your own 15' Avon Expedition. Because if you did have your own Clavey Rig, you would know that the only thing it's missing is tinted windows.

Let's start from the beginning, from the water up, so to speak. Let's take a look at a recipe for what we believe (humbly) is the “can't be beat”, best multi-day rafting package ever created. Begin with the 15' Avon Expedition. This is a boat designed with the family and multi-day river trips in mind. When we designed the Expedition what we desperately wanted was the west coast small river maneuverability of the 14' Adventurer (something to fit comfortability on the Illinois in the spring or low water on the Tuolumne) and the volume and carrying capacity of the 16' Pro (a southwest rivers - read Grand Canyon - classic). To get our dream boat we took what already worked and just made it work better. We stretched the Adventurer to 15 feet and added an inch and a quarter to the tubes (bigger tubes than the Pro). This gave us an additional foot of frame we could put on top and the extra volume in the tubes to carry what we want on it. The only added width came from the increased size of the tube. So where the Adventurer sat 7 feet across the beam, the Expedition now sits at 7'2". Wide enough to be stable but narrow enough to scoot down the dory chute at Rainie Falls. On top of this you've got Avon's lower floor for more interior depth and this translates directly to a lower center of gravity and fewer flips.

So you've got a boat, now you need a frame. Everybody's got an opinion about boat frames and for the the most part everybody's right. But let's not look at what's right, let's look at what's righter. The Clavey Expedition Frame is Strong, Modular and Light. Built from super stocky 1 7/8" OD anodized aluminum tubing, the Expedition frame easily ties flat to the top your vehicle or breaks down to a golf bag sized bundle of metal sticks (for those Beaver flights into Alaska). Swedged 90º corners mean unparalleled strength and rigidity while the oversized tubing won't creak under pressure like smaller tubing can. We take advantage of every last inch of boat for the length of our frame, maximizing the size of our four bays. This means more room in the rowers compartment, a larger dry box, a bigger drop bag and a great sized river table for camp.

Boat? Check. Frame? Check. So let start filling those four bays. Under my butt, I think you can't beat the Yeti Tundra 120 indestructible bear-proof cooler. My tender derriere needs some padding so I always have a cooler cover. For those of you who like a rower's seat, the Clavey Flip Seat Bracket is an easy add-on. Next, I like a Drop Deck in the rower's compartment for anything more than a single day trip. With the drop deck, a world of possibilities opens up before me. First, it gives me a stable platform that I can stand on regardless of what my floor of my boat is doing. Next, it allows me to utilize valuable space in my raft that would otherwise be wasted. On either side of my legs I can strap in rocket boxes, water jugs, or my personal choice - Clavey Half Boxes (these guys give me fast & easy, watertight access to any number of important items - dry-top, insulation, rivermap, bourbon). In the next bay up, I drop my 16x16x40 bear-proof Dry Box with ethafoam on both the top and the bottom. Why ethafoam? Without it you'll fry your hand or your butt when the sun's been cooking the top all day or bust your ass when you step on the wet aluminum. I put it on the bottom too, because I’m not a big fan of sharp cornered, immovable metal in the bottom of my raft. And when I say I drop it in, I'm not wasting a bunch of time building slings. We weld tabs directly to our Dry Box so we can literally just drop it in and strap it down. Up front where my girlfriend and dogs encourage me to row harder and faster is one of the greatest gear storage systems ever: The Drop Bag and River Table combination. The drop bag holds all those items that don't mind a little water and don't really fit anywhere else - my Partner Stove and Stand, propane, Partner Blaster, and Fire Pan. I use ethafoam to keep the shape on the bottom of my drop bag as well. To top this off, we build the perfect River Table. The table top covers the frame, front and back, while the powder coated frame of the table slips perfectly in between the bars of the raft frame, creating a truly integrated platform that won't shift under your feet when you have jump on it but comes right out when you unstrap it. I top this off with my Paco sleeping pad (girlfriend and dogs do like their comfort).

To push the Clavey Rig through the agua blanca I use a pair of 10' rope wrapped Sawyer MXG whitewater graphite oar shafts (light, strong and stiff) with and V-Pro Ash blades with Dynel tips. I like the width of the lam blades and Dynel adds protection I could never get from rubber tips. I slip these into a pair of Cobra oarlocks. Cobra's have a wider, taller horn which spreads the pressure of my pull over a larger surface area of the oar and gives me more vertical play without binding. This makes it easy for me to row standing up (again the Drop Deck). I attach my oars to my boat with Clavey Oar Tethers. Our tethers will keep a popped oar next to the boat until the pressure gets too much and then the fastex buckle separates preventing my oar from either breaking or creating an anchor in the middle of the rapid.

And now that we've got our Clavey Rig dialed in, it's time for some window tinting. Linus had his blanket, these are the items that go with me on every multi-day run: Under my legs I string a Clavey Mini-Skirt for the occasional dead beer cans, water bottles and power bar wrappers that seem to grow like fungus on any trip. On either side of my cooler I tie in a pair of Everything Else Bags. One holds my camera box, sunscreen, some extra cam straps and on the other side the dogs have earned their own EE Bag full of dog toys (I'm not quite sure when or how this happened). My Umbrella Holder never seems to be positioned to offer me any sun protection but the Girlfriend/Dog Coalition seems to thoroughly appreciate it. Clipped in to the top of my kick bar on the right is my throwbag where it's always within arm's length. And attached to the other side of the kick bar is my Clavey Expedition Beer Beverage Holder. Also within easy grasp, the Beverage holder is insulated and has a quick-drop splash top for protection from even the biggest waves over the bow.

So is the Clavey Rig the best whitewater raft package the world has ever seen? I certainly think so. And while it’s only my opinion...I am right.

Trip Report: The Green Truss of the White Salmon

2009-03-16T15:13:00.000-07:00

Fear is exhausting. Fear is exhausting. Fear is exhausting.

Today my hands look like they were taken out of a blender. They are huge and purple with nicks and bruises all over. My upper body was pummeled by oars, frame, etc and is pretty sore too.

Swimming Double Drop, an 18-footer on the Green Truss, took some energy out of me. The real reason I’m exhausted right now… is because I was absolutely terrified for nearly six hours yesterday. That’s right, we did a five mile trip in six hours, less than one mile an hour.

Rowing the Truss, realistically, is a horrible idea. But, once you’ve lowered your raft, frame, and oars roughly 100 feet down a cliff, you’re pretty well committed. And that’s where I and about two-dozen other people found themselves yesterday morning. Most of them were kayaking, but we had a few R2 boats, my oar boat, and 2 cat boats. Before yesterday, I’ve heard that the Truss had been rowed once before and had been written off as a really bad idea.

Why’s it a bad idea?

For one, it’s really steep, about 180 feet per mile in the first half. I know what you’re thinking, there are a LOT of rivers and creeks that are rafted that push 200 feet per mile or even more. Well, the Truss is not what I would call “continuous”, it’s pool drop, and as most of you probably know, there is a huge difference between pool/drop 180 per mile and continuous 180 per mile. Pretty much, if the river isn’t dropping here, it’s dropping more somewhere else. Thus, we have Big Brother, a 25’ waterfall to worry about, Little Bro (another 15’), Double Drop (18’ two-tiered”), BZ (15’), and a handful of other no-name drops that would be considered STUPID STUPID STUPID rapids elsewhere.

I had calmed my nerves after pushing off from the bank for the first time. But, in the first rapid, a narrow shoot dropping maybe 8 feet, my left oar caught the bank and shattered mid shaft. Gone. As I struggled to grab the spare, the next drop came closer and closer and closer, a BIG drop, maybe 10 feet, was pulling my boat downstream into certain gnar. Thankfully, I was surrounded by a few kayakers who wedged my boat into a little micro eddy. I got the spare out (my only spare) and we continued on our way. This was at mile 0.2.

We ran Meat Ball and Bob’s Falls without problems and then got to Big Brother. A heinous portage and about an hour later, we had gone 1 mile. We ran Little Brother and then came around the corner to Double Drop. A HUGE drop, it’s a two-tiered waterfall that is too difficult to scout with a massive hole in the first drop. Some kayakers ran through first and then climbed up to say “good to go”. I pushed off the lip with the thought… I’ll get to the lip and throw the oars forward, reach back and grab my seat, hope to get through the hole and be straight for the second drop. Well, it’s exactly what my boat did, but not my body. Pretty much I was going 50 miles an hour over a massive drop, hit the hole, the boat stopped instantly and my body shot off the front of the boat, clearing the second drop. I was under water for a micro-second and traveled about 20 feet. Lucky I didn’t break my neck. The boat came through no problem and I climbed back in.

Next up was one of the cats. It flipped in the bottom drop and swimmer and boat got to shore before the 8-footer just down stream. Then we headed downstream.

The most significant rapid (in terms of holy sh** this is scary) is a rapid called Lower Zig Zag. It’s scary because of wood. There is wood everywhere and a must-make-or-you-will-hate-life move above the scariest piece of wood I’ve ever seen. You’re also walled-in at this point, and portaging a raft is out of the question. With this in mind, you can almost imagine why I became frightened when, while passing under a log, my left oar jammed and broke at the wrap about half a mile above Zig Zag. Shelly Becker, one of the cat boaters, offered me her spare. It was 9.5 feet long, about the length of my entire boat, and 1.5 feet longer than my right oar. With no option of hiking out, I looked like a circus going down the river… my left oar sticking way out in contrast to the short stubby thing in my right hand.

A long story short… We all made the move and from here out it was a sprint to take out. I ghost boated BZ because I was absolutely beat. Got to the take out after putting on six hours prior.

It was a heinous trip. Kyle Smith, a friend of mine who guides on the Kern, was R2ing and we both agreed that it was the scariest bit of rafting we’ve ever done.

Nevertheless, I’m glad we did it. I will never row a piece of whitewater like I did yesterday. It will be something to remember and something to be proud of, but not something I will ever do again. I discovered yesterday that I don’t like fear. I don’t like HAVING to run something stupid to get downstream. I don’t like dropping off blindly, breaking oars, and boating defensively. Normally I have confidence when I’m on a river. Yesterday I had none.

I imagine that some will question my judgment in even attempting this stupid trip. Rightfully so, I probably shouldn’t have even tried rowing the Truss. I R2’d it last year and enjoyed the run. Time does strange things to a boater. Memory shrinks the size of waterfalls, the narrowness and speed of a rapid. About a month ago I woke up and thought “I’m going to row the Truss this year.” It was stuck in my head and I knew that with the right support of kayakers and boating friends it would be doable. The flow was right, the group was right, and the day felt good.

I’m not sure it could have ended any better anyway. As brutal as it was, no one was seriously hurt and we ran just about everything. I sure would like to have my two oars back, but thankfully Shelly had a spare to lend. It figures that I wait until the Truss to have my first-ever and second-ever broken oar.

Here's a short video of our run. Like most videos, it doesn't do any justice:

More Double Drop Video:

Paddling Patagonia

2009-02-18T14:09:00.000-08:00

I'm not one to pay for tours as I've got enough equipment and connections across the globe to do pretty much anything on the cheap. But as fate would have it, Nicole wanted to do a kayak trip with a bunch of her friends kayaking the lakes of Patagonia. Not cheap, but it sure sounded like a fun time, so who was I to say no? So just like that, we were going kayaking in Patagonia.

As so many of our trips begin, we missed our connecting flight in Santiago. After arguing with the airline for 5 hours (they wanted us to buy new tickets), we finally got a flight out the next morning via Puerto Montt into the thriving metropolis of Balmeceda. I'd never been to an airport that didn't have beer somewhere for sale before and didn't plan to spend too much time at this one. So we hoofed it to the sole concession of cervesas in town while we were waiting for the others to fly in. Soon the others arrived as well as our guides and we all piled into the big van for the five hour drive to Puerto Tranquillo where we spent another night on our continued journey to our ultimate journey. The next morning was a paltry 3 hour bone jarring drive to the trailhead at the Rio Leones.

As you step out onto the glacier stripped boulderscape of the trailhead the first thing you notice is the Andes looming over you from both sides of the rio. A glacier, some waterfalls and the ever present sound of water moving all about you. To say the least, this was pretty awe inspiring. We left our drybags piled for the vaqueros to load on their horses and pack in for us and began our 3 hour hike to what would become our base camp (oddly enough, every hike and paddle to every lake and every glacier would also take three hours, no more, no less). Our base camp was a visual smorgasbord. From where we sat at the headwaters of the Rio Leones we could see the glaciers at Lago Cachorro, Lago Leones and Lago Fiero.

What we were all expecting - a kayaking trip with a little hiking on the side - quickly became a hiking trip with a day of kayaking thrown in for somewhat good measure. But the weather is what the weather is and the views were unbelievable so we enjoyed it all just the same.

We awoke on our first morning of Chilean summer in Patagonia to the sound of rain on our tent. So we laughed, pulled on our rain gear, met down by the zip line over the river and slowly made our way across the frigid waters. On the other side we regrouped and began our three hour hike up to the Lago Fiero where massive islands of ice, recently calved from the glacier, waited to slowly melt and make their way downstream. The lake was like nothing I'd seen before and I longed to paddle among these giant icebergs but alas, while this was one of the many lakes guaranteed to be paddled on the company website, there were no kayaks to paddle so we just soaked up the view and hiked back (three hours of course).

The following day we went down to the shore of Lago Leones where the guides gave us lifejackets, paddles and tandem sit-on-top inflatable kayaks. It occurred to me that we weren't about to get much more, and knowing that only three out of the eight of us had any kayaking experience, I offered a brief tutorial on paddle techniques and safety, explained why tandems are referred to as divorce boats, and helped people into their boats.

There were six of these double-seaters for the twelve of us and within 200 yards of the shore it looked as though the only married couple in the group was going to be looking for a good divorce lawyer back in Santiago. Halfway into the 10K trip to the end of the lake they sort of figured out how to make the kayak go in a straight line and we began to give them better odds on remaining married at the end of the trip. To say the water in the lake was a little cold was like saying Bush was not the best president the U.S. had ever had - it was a bit of an understatement.

Nicole and I began discussing the recipe for disaster this company had created: The guides were either mountaineers or raft guides - none had any real experience in a kayak. The company hadn't suggested that anyone bring booties or gloves nor had they supplied wetsuits. There was no safety gear and no instruction (outside of my own). The six boats were spread out over half mile in all directions with no real direction being given other than, "Paddle towards the glacier, we'll meet there." Only two of the four guides had ever been here before and they were bringing up the rear. A swim in this water would have dire consequences very quickly but that was neither addressed nor discussed. On our paddle to the glacier luck was on our side.

At one side of the glacier was the perfect landing zone totally protected from the waves of the calving ice while still being within a stone's throw. From our camp 10 km on the other end of the lake we could hear the roar of the ice caving into itself as the flow slowly ground down the Andes. Here it was truly impressive. The original idea was for a hike up to another lake but as everyone was shivering and cold (we were told to expect average day time highs of 83ºF but we were getting the low 60s) we snapped a few photos and jumped in our little duckies and began the paddle back to camp.

And now the wind came up. And with the wind, the waves. A following sea in a 16 foot Necky Chatham can be a heck of a lot of fun - surfing the faces and all - assuming you know what you're doing. A pair of novice paddlers in an inflatable kayak with a following sea in freezing cold water is - at the very best - not a good time. The wave catches the stern of the boat and pushes it sideways. Now you've got a kayak facing 90º in the wrong direction and rolling in the waves. These inflatable kayaks had been rigged for rudders but the rudders were missing and so were the foot pegs. Sweet. The rudders would have made a remarkable difference as you can steer the rudder with your feet while paddling forward instead of constantly prying your paddle against the water in an effort to keep the boat from broaching.We also only had two guides in one boat as the other two left early to get dinner going. Very quickly the divorce boat couple was a 1/4 mile off to one side with the guide boat in pursuit and Nicole and I were paddling amongst the others showing them how to rudder and brace their paddle. Before things got too out of control I pulled everyone into the wind shadow of large rock outcropping about half way down the lake at one side and demonstrated the advantage of rafting boats together.

After passing the chocolate bar around and another brief paddle seminar and discussing the importance of staying close in these conditions and our options for the remaining km of open water, we headed back into the wind and the waves. Then, in the following hour, things got bad. The wind picked up to 25-30 mph with waves beginning to break at 3 feet. Nicole and I were hoping to corral everyone one back into safer distance when I saw the last boat flip. Things at this point happened fast. I couldn't tell if I had seen one boat flip or two. Making a considerable effort not to end up in the drink ourselves, we turned the boat around and began beating back into the waves while trying to count the boats and the paddlers. And then I saw it, 200 yards upwind, a lifejacket. By this point, another kayak had gotten back to the flipped kayak and rafted up to them. Nicole was positive it was a drybag but I know a lifejacket when I see one, and was at this point completely confused. As we got closer we could see the PFD was empty and turned the kayak to catch and raft up to the two other boats. The boat that turtled was the two guides and they had lost both their paddles and we had no spares. So with the wind and the waves still building we held on tight to the boat in the middle and let the conditions beat us to shore, which luckily, was only a 100 yards off by this point. We negotiated some rocks and crashed none too lightly on this desolate shore. We managed to get everyone off the kayaks and through the pounding surf without so much as twisting an ankle.

We pulled the boats up past the highwater mark and began stripping and redressing the two swimmers. Fortunately, I had my medicinal flask of Patron tequila ready for just such an emergency. Wet, cold and alive we beat feet to the top of the moraine and within a mile we were back in camp. The guides completely downplayed the direness of the situation which was fine with me. That's their job to put on a happy face and they did it well. But my face wasn't happy in the least. Wind and waves easily qualify as an "Act of God". The total lack of preparation, proper dress, training and safety equipment was nothing less than negligence.

Nobody was too interested in getting back in the boats after that. And despite the wind and the rain the rest of the trip was a great time. We're definitely heading back to Patagonia but we probably won't be trying to repeat this vacation anytime too soon.

And now that I'm done with the blog, I can get back to my friendly email to the owner of the company with some none too unclear suggestions.

Special Deals on Tents, PFDs, Chacos

2009-01-29T16:51:00.000-08:00

Here's a couple items I've got in the store and I don't want to put them on the website
so give us a call at 800.832.4226

Big Agnes Mad House 3 Four Season Tent w/ Footprint
Regular Prices - Tent: $349 Footprint $49
Clavey I don't want to see this tent when I walk in the shop tomorrow price: $199

Chacos (mostly women's, a few men's) Z1 and Z2 and a couple flip flops
Reg: $95
How about $40. Sounds good to me.
Flip flops, let's say $20

Warmers Splash Pants
These are your basic lightweight,
waterproof splash pants:
Reg: $49
Sm, Med, Lg. & XL: $20

Bill McGuiness The Guide's Guide
Not even augmented! The original!
$5

A couple great canoes for a couple great weekends

2009-01-20T22:44:00.000-08:00

Took the dogs and the girlfriend out for a couple weekends on the water. The first weekend we thought we’d give the Old Town Rockport a paddle. If you’re looking for the equivalent of the 1974 Country Squire station wagon for the water, this is it. This is the canoe for the family with a couple small children and maybe a dog or two. While it’s probably not going to break any speed records, Nicole and I thought the little canoe scooted across the water just fine. The Rockport’s not very long (14ft) but it’s got plenty of beam (42”) making it plenty stable.

Upsides of the Rockport were: Built in cooler (or dry box if you’re not drinking for the month of January like we weren’t), three comfy molded seats, center seat for rowing solo, 14ft makes for an easy boat to store, and at $539 you’d be hard pressed to get a boat this great for a small family for less . Downsides: 14ft means I wouldn’t want to paddle in a lot of wind and it’s not terribly light at 85lbs. Overall, Nicole and I both thought the Old Town Rockport was the best bang for the buck either of us had seen in in a boat. We’ll be spending some lazy days on the Russian River with this one for sure.

The next weekend we grabbed the Old Town Camper 16 and drove out to Tomales bay. It was mid January (we still weren’t drinking) and it felt like May, 65º and sunny. We dropped the boat in at Chicken Ranch at the highest tide of 2009 and decided to paddle against the ebb up to the new Point Reyes marshland - I had always wanted to get a picture of myself paddling Papermill Creek with the cows, but alas, I waited too long. Just like the birds, the cows migrated elsewhere. Why Nicole would ever want to go paddling anywhere with me I’ll never know. I spend half the day setting up the camera trying to get photos for the catalog and the website. But regardless of my pictorial ambitions we had an awesome day on the water.

The Camper 16 was quick and responsive. The dogs had plenty of room. We had plenty of room. And my favorite aspect was 16 feet of boat that only weighs 59lbs. 59lbs! I put it on and took it off the car all by my lonesome. The only reason I didn’t throw the yoke on my shoulders and carry the boat to the water by myself was because the boat makes a great little carry basket for everything else we need to take one the water (paddles, sandwiches from Perry’s Deli, about a dozen coats for every possible whether condition known to man). The Camper has a totally flat bottom which makes it nice and stable but it seemed to track just fine as well. Overall, it might not have the rugged minivan appeal of the Rockport, but Nicole and I have already started talking about some lakes in the Sierras where we’ll be taking the Camper camping.

Great North Bay Restaurants That'll Make You Yak!

2008-12-16T17:12:00.000-08:00

Call Clavey to discuss a paddling destination in the Marin and Sonoma North Bay with me and you’ll instantly hear me respond with, “Oh, then you can go to So & So’s for lunch”. And if there are no good spots to eat right on the water, I can certainly point out any number of yummy locations on the way to and from. So read on junior chipmunks because here are my favorite local paddle locations with nearby establishments of victual delights.

Estero Americano: One of the great paddle destinations of the North Bay, Estero Americano is a six mile journey to a private beach at it’s confluence with the Pacific. No food on the water but if you’re looking for a reason to paddle in the middle of the week, how about Rocker Oysterfellers at the Valley Ford Hotel, $1 Oyster Thursday. Well worth calling in sick.

Tomales Bay, Marshall Side: Drop your kayak in at Nick’s Cove and paddle south to the Marshall Store. You can pull your boat onto the beach, have a beer (or two) and have them bring you barbecued bivalves until you burst. You can also land at the beach at the Hog Island Oyster Co. for their “grill your own” oyster picnic. Or if you want to wait until you get off the water, head north up The 1 for ten minutes and stop at the Tomales Deli + Cafe for their Artichoke Pesto Chicken Sandwich. So good I’m drooling just writing about it.

Tomales Bay, Inverness Side: Whether you’re gonna start at the clean sands of Heart’s Desire or the free parking of Chicken Ranch, you have to stop at Perry’s Deli on your way to the water for one of their Rotisserie Roast Chicken sandwiches. Need a second sandwich? Don’t hesitate to get the BLT with avocado. This is the meat sandwich even vegetarians dream about. Want to grab something on the way home instead? Stop at Cafe Reyes for a unbelievable thin crust wood fired pizza. Tom’s fav is the Limantour - Niman Pepperoni, Mushrooms and fresh mozzarella with a Racer 5 (carbonated bourbon) to wash it all down.

Drakes Estero: Makes sure the tide is high when you put in at the Drakes Bay Oyster Company or you’ll be knee deep in mud. All the same gastronomic pleasures apply as a day on T-Bay from Inverness with one awesome addition - Drakes Beach Cafe. It’s not really on the way but then again it’s not every day you get the opportunity to eat at a national park 5 star snack bar. In your kayak, it’s only a mile and some change on the water from the mouth of the bay (you’ll need to surf land and launch). Or it’s another ten minute drive from the launch to the cafe. What to eat? I can’t tell you one specific item to order at Drake’s Beach but I can offer you this standard Team Clavey advice: go with a several friends. That way you’ll have more plates to sample from.

Lake Sonoma: Don’t think for a moment I’m trying to sell you Lake Sonoma as one of the great paddle destinations of the bay area. I will however say this: If you stop at all the Wineries of Dry Creek on the way to the water, you’ll be totally happy dropping your boat into any drainage ditch along the road.

Petaluma River: First off, try to catch the Petaluma at high tide. It’ll open up a world of paddling opportunity as well offer stunning views of the marshlands. Start from the Turning Basin downtown and when you load your boat back on the car you’ll have some fantastic epicurean delights within footsteps of the water. A couple of our favorites are Dempsey’s Brewery (get the Petaluma Strong Ale and anything else) and Central Market (mmm, short-ribs) - these two are at opposite ends of the footbridge. Then there’s Bricks for thin crust and New Yorker for thick - on opposite sides of McNears. One more block to Kentucky Street and you’ll have your choice of muy bueno Mexican at Mi Pueblo or awesome wraps at Cafe Zazzle (I’m a BBQ pork wrap guy myself). And if you're just passing through Petaluma on your way to some other water, do yourself a favor and stop at the Tea Room Cafe for the best scones you’ve ever had. And best of all, there's not one of these you can't walk to from Clavey.

Some say it’s the journey. To others it’s the destination. But I say it’s what they’re serving at the destination that makes the journey.

Rocker Oysterfeller's 14415 Hwy 1, Valley Ford
The Marshall Store. 19225 Hwy 1, Marshall
Hog Island Oyster Co. 20215 Hwy 1, Marshall
tomales deli + cafe 27000 Hwy 1, Tomales
Perry’s Deli 12784 Sir Francis Drake, Inverness
Cafe Reyes of 11101 Hwy 1, Point Reyes Station
Drake’s Beach Cafe 1 Drakes Beach Rd, Point Reyes Nat. Seashore
Dry Creek Wineries http://www.wineroad.com/maps/2/
Dempsey’s Restaurant & Brewery 50 E Washington Street, Petaluma
Central Market 42 Petaluma Blvd. North, Petaluma
New Yorker Pizza 3 Petaluma Blvd. North, Petaluma
Bricks Pizza 16 Kentucky Street, Petaluma
Mi Pueblo 108 Kentucky Street, Petaluma
Cafe Zazzle 121 Kentucky Street, Petaluma
Tea Room Cafe 316 Western Ave, Petaluma

Kayak Safety Gear or not ?

2008-12-10T11:08:00.000-08:00

As one of the owners of Clavey, this story is not easy to tell, but alas...Last winter I had an unusual experience I thought I would share with the rest of you in the hopes that none of you will repeat it. It was a beautiful winter morning and I decided to head out at about 5:30am to check the surf at one of my favorite breaks in the Point Reyes National Seashore. I loaded my boards and wetsuit in the van and, as an afterthought (because I had a new Necky Chatham 16 Carbon kayak on top of the car anyway) I threw in SOME – but not all – of my kayaking gear. I got to the parking lot and was greeted with a wonderful sunrise but minimal surf. I sat there drinking my coffee and petting the dog and then decided, because of the lack of surf, to take the new kayak out for a spin. I put on my Mysterioso tops and bottoms, a pair of Soft Seat Guide shorts, my PacLite Pullover, a MsFit Tour lifejacket, grabbed my favorite Werner Kalliste paddle and hauled my kayak down to the shore (what am I missing??). I slipped into the kayak, put on my neoprene skirt and headed out into the 2’-3’ shore beak.

Once past the breakers I began paddling the 1.5 miles down to the mouth of my favorite estero just to see how the sandbars were setting up for the winter. The paddle down was calm with a nice tailwind (air temperatures in the 50’s and water temp about 52°). I was paddling with a right-handed feather because that was what the paddle was set at and, while I can paddle comfortably with a left or right feather, my “bomb proof roll” is only good with a left feather. To tell you the truth I did not even notice I was paddling with a right feather. When I got to the estero mouth there were some fun little waves breaking about a quarter mile offshore. I paddle over to the south side to check it out and then headed back to north side where I had seen the waves.

As I began heading back I decided on a whim to see how the Chatham surfed. I caught one wave, had a nice ride and then decided to catch one more. On the next wave I got caught sideways and upon trying to exit the whitewater I rolled the boat. No big deal, I’ve gone over plenty of times. I set up to roll and failed. I tried again and again to no avail. I could not figure out what was wrong and I finally had to exit the boat. Now is where the real fun began.

I surfaced, grabbed boat and paddle, and looked for my safety gear (paddle float and bilge pump) that, I quickly realized, was not there. So there I was with no wetsuit and no paddle float in breaking waves quite a ways from shore. I was surrounded by harbor seals and their pups and could not help but think about the great white sharks that frequent the area this time of year. I tried a number of times to get back in the boat by balancing my body on top and slipping my legs in but the swell kept pushing me over. At this point I was getting a bit chilly and started to imagine my obituary in the local paper “kayak store owner drowns in home waters because he did not have the brains to carry the right gear that he pushes on people very day” I made the decision to get to shore, got on top of the kayak like a surfboard, and paddled like hell towards dry land. It took me about 15 minuets to get to the beach.

Once at the beach I felt quite relieved and surveyed my situation. My Mysterioso had done a pretty good job of keeping me warm for a while but by this point I was COLD. I ran around on the sand or - as people who know me and my crooked chicken legs will tell you more liked hopped around - until I was a bit warmer and got some blood flowing. I then dumped the water out of my boat and got back in for the paddle back to the car. As I paddled back I kept trying to figure out why I could not roll and then (LIGHT BULB!) made the connection between the blade feather and my diving paddle when attempting to roll. I changed the feather on the paddle and, before I paddled into the beach through the waves, made myself do a couple of practice rolls just to make sure I had not forgotten the move.

When I finally got back to the car, changed into dry clothes, and got the heater going full blast I looked at the dog and the still empty parking lot and thought that it could have been a long day for my loyal friend.

I was lucky. I have spent most of my life in and around water and I still had made some very basic, life threatening, mistakes. Perhaps it was the comfort level I had that led me to this lapse in judgment or maybe it was just plain forgetfulness. The good thing is that I know now that I will never paddle again without the right gear. It’s just not worth it.

Lets go over my list of shame: paddling in remote rough water ALONE, not enough insulation (can we say wetsuit!), unfamiliar gear (wrong paddle feather, new kayak), no paddle float, no bilge pump, no backup clothing stashed in a dry bag, no food, no communication device and I did not tell anyone where I was going – can there be anything ELSE!

Basic Cold Water Kayaking Gear:

Insulation and Drysuit or Wetsuit

Paddle Jacket

Booties and Socks

Spray Skirt

Skull Cap

Paddle Float

Bilge Pump

Dry Clothes

Communication Device

Common Sense

-Tom "safety-first" Meckfessel

Rafting on the Rogue River (with a permit)

2008-12-01T18:19:00.000-08:00

How to get your Rogue River permit (including real photos of the Klamath River).

There are few different ways to get on the wild and scenic section of the Rogue River, arguably one of the best multi day float trips in the world. Assuming you’ve already got the boat and the gear (and if you don’t, you can get it at www.clavey.com ), know how to row your boat and can get a permit from the BLM, well then, the number of days you can escape for is your only limiting factor. Of course, if you said no to any of the above, you should probably book your first trip with a commercial outfitter - you don’t need a boat, any experience or common sense and you’ll still have an awesome time.

As a long standing member of team Clavey, I’ve got my choice of gear from here at HQ. And to say Clavey has pretty good gear is like saying the President has pretty good security. So, right around June I decided I’d grab and Avon Expedition and our Clavey Rig and start looking for a launch date on the Rogue for sometime in July.

There are four ways you can get a private boaters permit on the Rogue:

#1 The Float Space Lottery. The Rogue River Lottery application period begins December 1, 2008 and continues to January 31, 2009. In order for your application to be entered into the lottery you must follow all rules contained within the Application Letter. I’ve never gone this particular route but the gist is that when (if) you win so many spots (boaters) they give you a specific launch day. That’s your launch day. Hope you and your friends can take the time (that specific time) off.

#2 You can call for available spaces. After the lottery process, there are still float spaces available. These available spaces are given away over the phone beginning the first business day in April. They go pretty quick and they go to people who are a little more clairvoyant in their planning than I am.

#3 Confirmation deadline. 10 days before their launch date, anyone who already has a permit has to call in and confirm their number of space. Any spaces confirmed to be unused will go to the first callers the next business day. This is the way I always think I’m going to get permits and never do. I call and call and call and call and finally the phone rings and somebody answers and I ask if there might possibly be four little tiny inconspicuous openings on such and such a date and the other end of the phone will be silent for a moment as if they don’t already know the answer and had to look it up in the book. The answer, of course, is no. And this leads us to...

#4 Show up anyway and hope someone who already confirmed they’ll be there was lying. This is where I’ve had my best luck. Show up at the BLM office on the Rogue anytime during the day or night and you can grab one of the numbered slips of paper off the little box at the door, write down your name and the number of people with you and drop it in the box and the next morning one of those fine hardworking rangers from the BLM office will call your name, tell you you’ve got a permit for all the people in your group, take your money and send you on your way to the launch. Or one of those lazy government freeloaders with their cushy jobs and their guaranteed pensions will tell you there are no permits for you (It is of course not their fault, and you can see I don’t blame them). And it this last example, why I have so many fun photos of the Klamath River.

After weeks of calling with no luck we decided to make the 8 hour drive north with the off chance that we could scrape four permits together at the Ranger’s office in the morning. My girlfriend promised me she’d be ready to leave the house no later than 5pm. That put us at 1am, 2am at the outside. No problem. Get there drop our name in the box, get some sleep and get back to the ranger station in the morning, just in time to hear our name called and our permit issued. Unfortunately, my girlfriend isn’t always as punctual as one might like and instead, we managed to roll out of the driveway a little after nine.

After eight hours of listening to Nicole snore (she does like her beauty sleep), we rolled into the Smullin Visitor Center at the Rand National Historic Site. My high beams hit a guy getting out of his truck and walking to the box. It was 4:53 am. By a matter of under a minute, he and his party of four got the only four permits that would be freed up for Saturday...or Sunday.

And thus #5. Run the Klamath River instead.

(You can find links for other permit applications on our links page)

--Scotto