tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23534130084582021372024-03-16T00:08:48.020-07:00Clavey News - Equipment, Trips, and StoriesRecent river trips, new equipment, and just good ol' fun from the boys at Clavey.The #1 Clavey Fanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463667840159917712noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-60149427941360617382011-06-14T22:05:00.000-07:002011-06-20T20:08:11.624-07:00“Quality Hanging Out Time” on Fish CreekThe 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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1">rafting</a>, 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. <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEfmQDrOlK7twtIRVX7mSmUmqQ8nmCFkNoa0JLO31qcbO34Zo2F39zToBbbAhVzaGklTyqRi0FOdLm0AK2bB8O28tHvELXgfViqcw5jE6et25bOCgpDoeXDSssg2ISs0JVSOATpCHh_yo/s1600/map.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEfmQDrOlK7twtIRVX7mSmUmqQ8nmCFkNoa0JLO31qcbO34Zo2F39zToBbbAhVzaGklTyqRi0FOdLm0AK2bB8O28tHvELXgfViqcw5jE6et25bOCgpDoeXDSssg2ISs0JVSOATpCHh_yo/s320/map.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618317757178761090" border="0" /></a>Around the <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=4_58&products_id=773">campfire</a> 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.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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 <a href="http://www.indigocreekoutfitters.com/ashland-oregon/">Ashland</a>. 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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.</p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Portaging around the first significant rapid, photo by <a href="http://dirtmyth.blogspot.com/">Garret Smith</a>:</span></span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNx5XsE8NsB7YtZdo6TrBgsmiPXtBZe6XG9Eb7gRTxzkvsxVTyIXq6Qtx0jsA5rDrG2LHqulFRfFRqODF70eOcbBfLwq84fKyYK0b5E5_6pz7Zl3rPfc7_l358Lde_9gdo8iF6UUbYfX19/s1600/little-waterfall.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNx5XsE8NsB7YtZdo6TrBgsmiPXtBZe6XG9Eb7gRTxzkvsxVTyIXq6Qtx0jsA5rDrG2LHqulFRfFRqODF70eOcbBfLwq84fKyYK0b5E5_6pz7Zl3rPfc7_l358Lde_9gdo8iF6UUbYfX19/s400/little-waterfall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618315474161333378" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Lining the boats. Photo by <a href="http://dirtmyth.blogspot.com/">Garret Smith</a>:</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WOAQGVN4AKnyIlAwn-HEAGtoJeSVs0tzmxngBVapxp1gqrm3V7fNw58aZ1FjY2wNl-Deo3vGKl-QJXKb9uwrVjRATCAPxiOTgQUx7PZYlZ-kqf7tJHXGWIrBtAQYwmnfqVCF0Mp5bC3V/s1600/willie.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WOAQGVN4AKnyIlAwn-HEAGtoJeSVs0tzmxngBVapxp1gqrm3V7fNw58aZ1FjY2wNl-Deo3vGKl-QJXKb9uwrVjRATCAPxiOTgQUx7PZYlZ-kqf7tJHXGWIrBtAQYwmnfqVCF0Mp5bC3V/s400/willie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618315949000246050" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1ZFL8-wvNzi1PXjxpPvliH6bq23a4hH262JWwa0kz9y3ZOoaytIQrT_gHLS5a4uzlTF_ur93Cw5zucNkZlQmrePisGY6rNmyRsjO9v9OtoYNpNmbzzs-7mVWgieXHlgC6Qwg7PJZrG75/s1600/where-to-go.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR1ZFL8-wvNzi1PXjxpPvliH6bq23a4hH262JWwa0kz9y3ZOoaytIQrT_gHLS5a4uzlTF_ur93Cw5zucNkZlQmrePisGY6rNmyRsjO9v9OtoYNpNmbzzs-7mVWgieXHlgC6Qwg7PJZrG75/s320/where-to-go.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618316789371889858" border="0" /></a>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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Willie and Garret took to moving the small <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_8">Avon</a> while Brandon, Skip, and I worked on the much larger <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_9">Vanguard</a>. 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.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">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.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">That night we came up with a plan to get the gear out. The first step was getting a <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_22_128&products_id=337">static line</a>. 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.</p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Getting the boats ready for the hike out. Photo by <a href="http://dirtmyth.blogspot.com/">Garret Smith</a>:</span></span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnn82XiaNgWl5vA3ZeK_xlgQ2UGQMvwUheNERG8WypDUZohzbyYhH9-lmz6vONtkz3xDs486o-MVwVv4EwjimqMfWk9nV-gbqqNJhommnWQ8Gc_lKPuZ7JW-I_RBI-uOQISfzfwIKyNxgG/s1600/packing-up.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnn82XiaNgWl5vA3ZeK_xlgQ2UGQMvwUheNERG8WypDUZohzbyYhH9-lmz6vONtkz3xDs486o-MVwVv4EwjimqMfWk9nV-gbqqNJhommnWQ8Gc_lKPuZ7JW-I_RBI-uOQISfzfwIKyNxgG/s400/packing-up.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618316327722013778" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Of course it rained all night and was especially cold the following morning. We packed up <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=4">camp</a> 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.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Y7iC-A9VTRquVaCGj6nxpe1spia7CEFyY_jTt-XMn0F3XM2VWGuiLrSHa-FWoYXk6cImWwCfkZwbqYmk1Z4T5tT5FGrm0TjUX7BHOzivQLHKcxUrBIjx603IJ8HB79E2AVMYTdYoy-Zd/s1600/z-drag.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Y7iC-A9VTRquVaCGj6nxpe1spia7CEFyY_jTt-XMn0F3XM2VWGuiLrSHa-FWoYXk6cImWwCfkZwbqYmk1Z4T5tT5FGrm0TjUX7BHOzivQLHKcxUrBIjx603IJ8HB79E2AVMYTdYoy-Zd/s320/z-drag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618315331901492866" border="0" /></a>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.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<br /></p> <div style="border-width: medium medium 1.5pt; border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color windowtext; padding: 0in 0in 1pt;"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in;"> </p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">This story would not be possible without the fine products made by <a href="http://www.clavey.com/">Clavey Paddle Sports</a> (Avon), <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_9">Vanguard Inflatables</a>, <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?manufacturers_id=37&sort=2a&filter_id=73">Kokatat</a> (drysuits), and <a href="http://www.columbia.com/Men%27s-Drainmaker%E2%84%A2/BM3673,default,pd.html">Columbia</a> (great new water shoes: "Drainmaker"). </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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!).</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">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 <a href="http://dirtmyth.blogspot.com/">http://dirtmyth.blogspot.com/</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <span style=";font-family:";font-size:12pt;" ><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >Written by Will Volpert, owner of <a href="http://www.indigocreekoutfitters.com/">Indigo Creek Outfitters</a> based out of <a href="http://www.indigocreekoutfitters.com/ashland-oregon/">Ashland, Oregon</a>.</span><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">From left to right: Skip Volpert, Willie Long, Will Volpert, and Garret Smith. Photo by <a href="http://dirtmyth.blogspot.com/">Garret Smith</a>: </span></span><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8GzzfbCpVHHX1dF7BLCrDe-Y4dOsdNxUO9eDqBGISABdIpsTb2tnR1Y3G1x_9ohyphenhyphenq2x6U2SitCSjR7lDB-697KKV5dN1-5DpIy4cf2eWxtejNBM9R9c5avRac2OFekPYHT0zBsDvxFkb/s1600/the-end.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8GzzfbCpVHHX1dF7BLCrDe-Y4dOsdNxUO9eDqBGISABdIpsTb2tnR1Y3G1x_9ohyphenhyphenq2x6U2SitCSjR7lDB-697KKV5dN1-5DpIy4cf2eWxtejNBM9R9c5avRac2OFekPYHT0zBsDvxFkb/s400/the-end.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618314434788305538" border="0" /></a>Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-51478604365020016412011-03-16T18:00:00.000-07:002011-03-21T13:01:05.763-07:00Whitewater Rafting Schools<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTF8ZextYI9W7_FRxysU5va3ECZzh00pQK_p0UEs-lyc18k-DmKz-XcVLFtdMoZeOTIOBN1ZE1fqPAB2xBjRMWeUXT9HCSfhErp03Rqt6QH5wzQ4CmZKVTUt5jZb3corQnA9aGV6-7LPk/s1600/DSC_0342.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTF8ZextYI9W7_FRxysU5va3ECZzh00pQK_p0UEs-lyc18k-DmKz-XcVLFtdMoZeOTIOBN1ZE1fqPAB2xBjRMWeUXT9HCSfhErp03Rqt6QH5wzQ4CmZKVTUt5jZb3corQnA9aGV6-7LPk/s320/DSC_0342.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585193619949940002" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWl5bpcnJz9xFVHkMjvDGT7VoOOFr-w2Ifgs3u4whSv1cvwHiT6fcT5OVHvSIKPKl6ex4at1f5YtbrKbUTL90CSkFD47oXIx4OjN3wH6-4MQuBmAMRU9vZX6DXytekqtMWEdoANw3TTBg/s1600/2008+Illinois+river+w+clavey+013.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWl5bpcnJz9xFVHkMjvDGT7VoOOFr-w2Ifgs3u4whSv1cvwHiT6fcT5OVHvSIKPKl6ex4at1f5YtbrKbUTL90CSkFD47oXIx4OjN3wH6-4MQuBmAMRU9vZX6DXytekqtMWEdoANw3TTBg/s320/2008+Illinois+river+w+clavey+013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585192745590821570" /></a>
<br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">
<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We love whitewater rafting--its the roots of our business. We started</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">guiding many years ago, and the hook was set. Guiding commercial trips led</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">to running the shop and setting up gear for trips with friends and family.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But rafting is a skill and gear intensive sport. Many of our customers began</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">rafting as commercial guides, thus giving them the skills to do trips on</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">their own. When they settle down a bit and get “real” jobs, the funds become</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">available to buy their own set of gear.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But what if you’ve never been a guide, and don’t want to become one? We can</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">help set you up with the appropriate gear to get you down the river, but the</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">necessary skills are another thing. Fear not, there is a way to get the</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">river skills--a commercial whitewater school. It used to be that these were</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">primarily oriented to training future guides, but many are now tailored for</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">the general public as well as future guides. If you’ve been rafting with a</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">commercial company before, or with self-outfitted friends and would like to</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">try it on your own, consider signing up for a whitewater school. Here are a</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">few of our friends and associates that run whitewater schools:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; color:#000099;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px ;color:#000000;">Kern River Outfitters: <a href="http://www.kernrafting.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">www.kernrafting.com</span></a> <<a href="http://www.kernrafting.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">http://www.kernrafting.com</span></a>> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; color:#000099;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px ;color:#000000;">All-Outdoors: <a href="http://www.aorafting.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">www.aorafting.com</span></a> <<a href="http://www.aorafting.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">http://www.aorafting.com</span></a>> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; color:#000099;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px ;color:#000000;">ARTA river trips: <a href="http://www.arta.org/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">www.arta.org</span></a> <<a href="http://www.arta.org/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">http://www.arta.org</span></a>> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; color:#000099;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px ;color:#000000;">ECHO: <a href="http://www.echotrips.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">www.echotrips.com</span></a> <<a href="http://www.echotrips.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">http://www.echotrips.com</span></a>> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; color:#000099;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px ;color:#000000;">Zephyr: <a href="http://www.zrafting.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">www.zrafting.com</span></a><<a href="http://www.zrafting.com/"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px">http://www.zrafting.com</span></a>></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A number of other companies run whitewater schools--you’ll want to be sure to ask</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">them how their school is structured, i.e, is it done primarily in paddle</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">boats or oar boats, or both? Is it done from a base camp, or is it</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">expedition style? Many companies will be happy to send you their</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">instructional outline or curriculum before you commit.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span>
<br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Just be careful. This rafting stuff is highly addictive. And the staff at</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Clavey is ever so happy to feed and enable your addiction.</span></p>Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-91329165571533541342011-03-07T10:05:00.000-08:002011-03-07T10:48:26.194-08:00Trip Report and Boat Review<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRpEJh7iRzVt7za50AGL6DLks0heDk2HmuN9jftcbTM8WZAtD4rn3vkJYCJT3vXDv8k_O5GRsJB-IUwT6OXM51cfNygqSlBM6jbH3chotgQQHktK9qfcP8DpksAvYvxJsgzPhmdpPCwXk/s1600/P3060215.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRpEJh7iRzVt7za50AGL6DLks0heDk2HmuN9jftcbTM8WZAtD4rn3vkJYCJT3vXDv8k_O5GRsJB-IUwT6OXM51cfNygqSlBM6jbH3chotgQQHktK9qfcP8DpksAvYvxJsgzPhmdpPCwXk/s320/P3060215.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581411509240448146" /></a><br /><br />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<img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZMPLySuit02IgVIVwMtTAWg34pXMH9NqmLSiSgCFO201QPaqvKRYBNSGuwA87DfwWKeXMu8rgh2RZp8Rfcl0LqcInseI2eJ89xtL1Jw_zkOeGNoH35FFCodBs9Ml0DSRR8ic-qbHK68/s320/P3060223.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581409904060607106" />. And you've got to pay attention to the tide as it can leave you high and dry very quickly. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>On this trip I decided to test paddle the <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_28&products_id=1236">Delta 15.5</a> 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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_28&products_id=1236">Delta 15.5</a> isn't the fastest boat on the water, it combines stability with reasonable responsiveness and great load carrying capability.</div>Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-34215335871404321362011-03-01T13:49:00.000-08:002011-03-04T10:21:32.482-08:00Tuolumne river days and nights: a night in the Log Jam<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJt6kYvmRaCQ9r9Nfmk0nV68ZkfgTHI6uNlWXhh6bzilNUrHZ7F22mg8JUeUu56w8EFieuVi7QivkmLLou_ySt4oKrH4Zrr_tfaZOgGCGmdvJISRPfGugmhBOZXvs1SN1ox8HohhQjYM/s1600/a+log+bronc.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJt6kYvmRaCQ9r9Nfmk0nV68ZkfgTHI6uNlWXhh6bzilNUrHZ7F22mg8JUeUu56w8EFieuVi7QivkmLLou_ySt4oKrH4Zrr_tfaZOgGCGmdvJISRPfGugmhBOZXvs1SN1ox8HohhQjYM/s320/a+log+bronc.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579234436310142130" /></a><br />Some memorable times on the Tuolumne river--see the previous post to catch up on this story: <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.1em; font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://claveynews.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-early-days-on-t-part-two.html">My early days on the "T", part two</a></span></h3></span><br /><b>Part 3 A night in the jam</b><br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br />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.Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-58093871204992045752011-01-18T10:40:00.000-08:002011-02-24T09:09:01.768-08:00The Clavey Half Box, Dry Box - Review<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xTrQRjRVGVo/TTXhvcM02DI/AAAAAAAAAB0/4mEEccL5k5M/s1600/HalfBox.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 50px 0px 5px 5px; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 288px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xTrQRjRVGVo/TTXhvcM02DI/AAAAAAAAAB0/4mEEccL5k5M/s320/HalfBox.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563601119826204722" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><style>@font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; </style><span style="font-family:Helvetica;"> </span> <br /><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Helvetica;">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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?products_id=330">1⁄2” hoopie</a> and once loaded resembled the family truck heading out of the dust bowl in the Grapes of Wrath.</span></p> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwfp4eFpT1aKIiw0tnp-T5vghbqy5fj1FLhwpACXGFbIB2kqn1yPsRl84hyUhKc5kCUaMlNwOsLaV0hXEu8uRke1w7ben-uV4LOQ6yEsJ490I7_RRCtMNrUkW8umUEDEuvZD2UimWGpU7/s1600/ClaveyHalfBox.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin: 35px 5px 5px 0px; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHwfp4eFpT1aKIiw0tnp-T5vghbqy5fj1FLhwpACXGFbIB2kqn1yPsRl84hyUhKc5kCUaMlNwOsLaV0hXEu8uRke1w7ben-uV4LOQ6yEsJ490I7_RRCtMNrUkW8umUEDEuvZD2UimWGpU7/s200/ClaveyHalfBox.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577286476269081330" /></a><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Helvetica;">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<a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_7&products_id=1225"> “Clavey Rig”</a> is the <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_13&products_id=34">Half Box</a>, 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.</span></p><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family:Helvetica;">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?).</span></p> <br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Helvetica;">Our stock size is <span style=""> </span>20” L x 8” W x 14” D, but we can modify to your measurements.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Helvetica;">By Tom Meckfessel<br /></span></p><br /><script type="text/javascript"><br /><br /> var _gaq = _gaq || [];<br /> _gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-4779384-3']);<br /> _gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);<br /><br /> (function() {<br /> var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;<br /> ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';<br /> var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);<br /> })();<br /><br /></script>Silkyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470851327309923787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-50809816135153021902010-12-02T12:45:00.000-08:002010-12-02T13:11:18.930-08:00The Aftertaste of Adventure<span style="font-size:100%;">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.” <br /><br />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.<br /><br />It was a sideways-sleet-snow kind of morning in Selma, Oregon, on November 20<sup>th</sup>, 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.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Creatch, Jen, and Matt at the bottom of Green Wall, Illinois River, in an <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?products_id=8">Avon Expedition</a>:</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDrFbQ9Qd78QYzN9VSencLP47qLkxEkxrRgQCi5RHg4eo1TE3nzUGNVl_j18a0WDZEzaiOvfhzwNp2oJ8keibhl0JwEBn61dL3PaqtcXsrtqrecyKFY1ZRLs5F_so15x_z9l9ZOoQsre-/s1600/avon-expedition.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDrFbQ9Qd78QYzN9VSencLP47qLkxEkxrRgQCi5RHg4eo1TE3nzUGNVl_j18a0WDZEzaiOvfhzwNp2oJ8keibhl0JwEBn61dL3PaqtcXsrtqrecyKFY1ZRLs5F_so15x_z9l9ZOoQsre-/s400/avon-expedition.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546190282122196194" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Most of the group, a few missing, at Miami Bar, Illinois River (photo by Kira Watts):</span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhai6yRF8FU025A8vCvA0a4TCFGg6mJC2qe-f_39FoxDFDtB9Jm8WhUU-_f8mDGAsdflXSJuKpjEOw_EGL-YkezlinBhRzu-DP-wg0sCEEduLxFApK2dIDCvtPzVsUMHHeM2hxp_pu1Wg-U/s1600/group+shot.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhai6yRF8FU025A8vCvA0a4TCFGg6mJC2qe-f_39FoxDFDtB9Jm8WhUU-_f8mDGAsdflXSJuKpjEOw_EGL-YkezlinBhRzu-DP-wg0sCEEduLxFApK2dIDCvtPzVsUMHHeM2hxp_pu1Wg-U/s400/group+shot.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546191353212483554" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />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?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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:<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >"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."</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">–<span style="font-weight: bold;">Edward Abbey</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >The Illinois River, Explained</span></span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Different boats for different folks. Pine Flat, Illinois River (photo by David Pool):<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1yMicj2G9XF2YoCKs1DzSjwi7CYz7Gin47urFgW7SBfhgRqWUrZoDpdHz80_jybowTjQY3ENjFWkdMWM630pqUeH-CYtfJXsaN8Mw7cex4a4X4jphr30D0oFXxAqJDTJ84twnie5-OMz/s1600/pine-flat+boats.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1yMicj2G9XF2YoCKs1DzSjwi7CYz7Gin47urFgW7SBfhgRqWUrZoDpdHz80_jybowTjQY3ENjFWkdMWM630pqUeH-CYtfJXsaN8Mw7cex4a4X4jphr30D0oFXxAqJDTJ84twnie5-OMz/s400/pine-flat+boats.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546191771725077074" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Cold keg of <a href="http://www.standingstonebrewing.com/">Standing Stone Brew</a> (photo by David Pool):<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcQogf_rpQy1p8fAbdnjAndEDSRDZUCjopVY_HniObljwT-LN5oIPlmnln5HAr6pUUdrhj3RI8lBYfNwFPCdiFH4P0WF_ml8d0-M6XOql2MOKU6zq8X26VajG585VKholcD6F3WJwHgkX/s1600/keg.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLcQogf_rpQy1p8fAbdnjAndEDSRDZUCjopVY_HniObljwT-LN5oIPlmnln5HAr6pUUdrhj3RI8lBYfNwFPCdiFH4P0WF_ml8d0-M6XOql2MOKU6zq8X26VajG585VKholcD6F3WJwHgkX/s400/keg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546192179033360914" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"><span style="font-size:100%;">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:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="">1)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">You are worried about flows.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="">2)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">You only want to go if the weather is nice.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="">3)<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Your contingency plans suck.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Chip and Katherine running Green Wall, Illinois River, in an <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?products_id=3">Avon Adventurer</a>:<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5F3Rm9p1Ylsk0J_bTpqBv__SzlKoFN43gFiQCHpd4EIl8Nh16jOKV8yCjtb9lzycAK_5v1Lb3i9FSGjx9QoMqUGnEahEGKS1fDlQdk4H84NMs4zYqjJHZ6_wgsofHdVxTM1mXbXSThbon/s1600/avon-adventurer.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5F3Rm9p1Ylsk0J_bTpqBv__SzlKoFN43gFiQCHpd4EIl8Nh16jOKV8yCjtb9lzycAK_5v1Lb3i9FSGjx9QoMqUGnEahEGKS1fDlQdk4H84NMs4zYqjJHZ6_wgsofHdVxTM1mXbXSThbon/s400/avon-adventurer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546189489422131074" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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).<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Green Wall, Illinois River, in an <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?products_id=3">Avon Adventurer</a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"> (photo by David Pool):<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVr099NTUqfP9T8z-OUFobqcM-qhzpchNNR06NB3SJ5qgaIQ5NRZeVnXXgw7ILDF_bOi8YU4xNHgGute_CXjUacdFaSZB8U0pBPJWmvj5GWU2QZH0mAkYuprJJsy4rILGcyX_8s69k7Gu/s1600/greenwall.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVr099NTUqfP9T8z-OUFobqcM-qhzpchNNR06NB3SJ5qgaIQ5NRZeVnXXgw7ILDF_bOi8YU4xNHgGute_CXjUacdFaSZB8U0pBPJWmvj5GWU2QZH0mAkYuprJJsy4rILGcyX_8s69k7Gu/s400/greenwall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546192683630735010" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Good luck and happy boating!</span></p>Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-82523357181051177092010-03-26T16:50:00.000-07:002010-03-26T16:56:21.156-07:00My early days on the "T", part two<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDyTjP-V7YJVIW7fwW4kbHGEMCBA8xirDEvLqJK03sj5afVjUYyHzZ-XSUNwSNgI8Tm2WBtx_n7zd5dkab27iojHD0T6sdOQwXc4C1JbKc6d_Yo2_iGdpROj4_L_oFwjz2jhbZaatorY/s1600/a+log+bronc.jpeg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDyTjP-V7YJVIW7fwW4kbHGEMCBA8xirDEvLqJK03sj5afVjUYyHzZ-XSUNwSNgI8Tm2WBtx_n7zd5dkab27iojHD0T6sdOQwXc4C1JbKc6d_Yo2_iGdpROj4_L_oFwjz2jhbZaatorY/s320/a+log+bronc.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453094684442690898" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family:Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span style="font-size:12.0px;">Part Two—The Log Jam<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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!<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br /><br />Next Blog: The Return of the Rusty Sucker<br /><br /> </span></span> <!--EndFragment-->Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-81882011779512500242010-02-15T02:00:00.000-08:002010-02-16T07:26:20.932-08:00Dumpster Diving - the highlight of my Grand Canyon tripWe'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.<br /><br />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.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Skip, Will, and Matt. Christmas Day:</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2QsP7ddwGDKHd1778dZWJZJqV7onwTk0M_5b9N_rn2bPLSuALI2hrLCDp0hWlt-KaQWI2PIMgQ7StYR8J1zGUH8uawU8F3_AWF2DwlpF-NT2UqW4kgAuXEu0MEj9RkOZZFQ-sd86gP-8j/s1600-h/will-matt-skip.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2QsP7ddwGDKHd1778dZWJZJqV7onwTk0M_5b9N_rn2bPLSuALI2hrLCDp0hWlt-KaQWI2PIMgQ7StYR8J1zGUH8uawU8F3_AWF2DwlpF-NT2UqW4kgAuXEu0MEj9RkOZZFQ-sd86gP-8j/s400/will-matt-skip.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437172132022850034" border="0" /></a></div><br />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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=5_73&products_id=873">Women's Dry Suit</a> with the drop seat and myself the typical blue/mango <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=5_73&products_id=276">Men's Dry Suit</a>. Dana also got the <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?products_id=1162">full-body fleece</a> 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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_8_169&products_id=4">Avon Expedition</a> in tow we headed to Lee's Ferry.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Even Santa came and partied with us:</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKkzB0wSGVd1B9DGf-z1GEGSh1XuRHQweguUacg_pIhgyN9YvSy3cgkfy_Lo7_8IMEtbWFU8F3J4vHfrMm_E_jv1RpXz67uREAuAtT2Jmm8Wuwu-gdzan_tfp2S7psnDvinLQQ7lBmvrc/s1600-h/santa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKkzB0wSGVd1B9DGf-z1GEGSh1XuRHQweguUacg_pIhgyN9YvSy3cgkfy_Lo7_8IMEtbWFU8F3J4vHfrMm_E_jv1RpXz67uREAuAtT2Jmm8Wuwu-gdzan_tfp2S7psnDvinLQQ7lBmvrc/s400/santa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437172551149151474" border="0" /></a><br /></div>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...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Boy, we sure were happy:</span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHroiIaKcUJBCVEYjDw3aGA_Yx490UUTWyQ4_pzLvF6kwclHcKTp4aQQA3Oc2dI0cANCzO51745goFtmLqI3z_nUhEZWjbONtsqvCQ7TUw90tjiNWyItBg4aR8Oriv0Mn-V9asXew-8Jfb/s1600-h/dana-will.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHroiIaKcUJBCVEYjDw3aGA_Yx490UUTWyQ4_pzLvF6kwclHcKTp4aQQA3Oc2dI0cANCzO51745goFtmLqI3z_nUhEZWjbONtsqvCQ7TUw90tjiNWyItBg4aR8Oriv0Mn-V9asXew-8Jfb/s400/dana-will.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437173019530788354" border="0" /></a></div><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzkarezT1M0TsQIeNkHtaTY99zusf3HEgT4mPqQTTNk0eNWuTkvlqGl6sxkE7nhBypEXGGDKShNL0tYF_CW0eB-TjSTh-g_hk0bLyyVwqu-vLA2pUNWQLDpLBN9WExKCOVAjQG0eTMaYQ/s1600-h/dana-drysuit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggzkarezT1M0TsQIeNkHtaTY99zusf3HEgT4mPqQTTNk0eNWuTkvlqGl6sxkE7nhBypEXGGDKShNL0tYF_CW0eB-TjSTh-g_hk0bLyyVwqu-vLA2pUNWQLDpLBN9WExKCOVAjQG0eTMaYQ/s320/dana-drysuit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437173368071653362" border="0" /></a>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiIwEXxmSQFDjqd6XzuSJg8lF_-RpGiDFBvLoAEmVitQ_g48-dP1fcnmsSrjQzGSiMVH1e3MSco7a5aAzwbv-pYhlc245I5V1A7GkP_5xrmNHLAgu_bsoTStZbUhyphenhyphen5rVrxU7wSepM6WgB-/s1600-h/blown-up-drysuit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiIwEXxmSQFDjqd6XzuSJg8lF_-RpGiDFBvLoAEmVitQ_g48-dP1fcnmsSrjQzGSiMVH1e3MSco7a5aAzwbv-pYhlc245I5V1A7GkP_5xrmNHLAgu_bsoTStZbUhyphenhyphen5rVrxU7wSepM6WgB-/s320/blown-up-drysuit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437173561056944770" border="0" /></a>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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />__________________________________<br /><br />Acknowledgments:<br /><br />* We would never have been on the water without Andrew Wilkin. He organized one helluva trip. Thanks Andrew!<br />* Special thanks to <a href="http://www.idahoriverjourneys.com/">Idaho River Journeys</a>, <a href="http://www.roguerivertrips.com/">Rogue River Journeys</a>, and <a href="http://www.kernrafting.com/">Kern River Outfitters</a> for the gear they lent us.<br />* <a href="http://www.ceibaadventures.com/">Ceiba</a> 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!Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-76418064137167544262010-01-22T14:49:00.000-08:002010-01-25T09:51:31.307-08:00My early days on the "T"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdN85IFU6fppNrjILv1WVruLQaX69BQim1NbJlFH6Y8nyXwzwWDlBExdjHw_502NwEbURfOoT7wxXp_E_9-PCtwGs6K0DtYzVbQsRVviMVYJ3HWM6UCVdURgmMvhgYJalru5_Sgpbf6qI/s1600-h/DSC_0281.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdN85IFU6fppNrjILv1WVruLQaX69BQim1NbJlFH6Y8nyXwzwWDlBExdjHw_502NwEbURfOoT7wxXp_E_9-PCtwGs6K0DtYzVbQsRVviMVYJ3HWM6UCVdURgmMvhgYJalru5_Sgpbf6qI/s320/DSC_0281.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429704565586323346" /></a><br /><div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">I fired up the wayback machine this week and came up with a few reminiscences of my river guiding career.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Back in 1983, several years before there were <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_8_169">self-bailing Avon rafts</a>, 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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Back then we ran <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_8_169&products_id=5">16’ gear boats</a> 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! </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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: </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“Keep up, follow me, and don’t get stuck”. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Because you were rowing a boat by yourself, you needed to make sure you didn’t get stuck. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Early on in the trip, at a rapid called Nemesis, you have two choices: </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">One is to to run left at the bottom and risk getting royally stuck. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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 (<a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_15_147">heavy solid ash oars</a>) 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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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). </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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....</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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”.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Futura; min-height: 19.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> </div><div><br /></div>Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-55429941439073189932009-10-27T16:48:00.000-07:002009-11-02T17:59:26.501-08:00How to make class V a little hairierI 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 <a href="http://www.kernrafting.com/lowerkern.html">Lower</a> is below Lake Isabella, the <a href="http://www.kernrafting.com/upperkern.html">Upper</a> is above, and the <a href="http://www.kernrafting.com/forksofthekern.html">Forks</a> is pretty much the “Upper-Upper”.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Chris and Chandra pop out of the hole in Big Bean:</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmRV6Q8ecXpPmqbgFv_EzhKTasNEzy_78W04l4Cd40b5T64EwahZugaPYymKCWx-g3uVx3hyQ4cJWbOThhEVzXb5ITL055Oe9EHeVtdbd8rnudm1Fike4bfo7o4U4IwwGjpTCCrTBT8G8/s1600-h/2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmRV6Q8ecXpPmqbgFv_EzhKTasNEzy_78W04l4Cd40b5T64EwahZugaPYymKCWx-g3uVx3hyQ4cJWbOThhEVzXb5ITL055Oe9EHeVtdbd8rnudm1Fike4bfo7o4U4IwwGjpTCCrTBT8G8/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397442650718795458" border="0" /></a></div><br />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.<br /><br />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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_7&products_id=8">Avon Expeditions</a> and <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_8_169&products_id=3">Avon Adventures</a> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Back to the present: After a day of packing-in (our <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_15_147&products_id=159">Clavey oars</a> and <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_19_153">personal dry bags</a> 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.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Ceremonial drinking of the Little Kern water:</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAjpsdm-McTyn6d7gftgtW0mjPAeB2gAd04r1ZloITZmivJhvtM-SbyVNTDHrP2qY9M0ONIs5o4QEI7rwmyN97F-JmEoeLIhb67Zqw_vsIt7oG4fjPv6SnheasyqHvlZeZ4xGUuHGPyvB/s1600-h/12.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAjpsdm-McTyn6d7gftgtW0mjPAeB2gAd04r1ZloITZmivJhvtM-SbyVNTDHrP2qY9M0ONIs5o4QEI7rwmyN97F-JmEoeLIhb67Zqw_vsIt7oG4fjPv6SnheasyqHvlZeZ4xGUuHGPyvB/s320/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397442657142983986" border="0" /></a></div><br />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.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">A side-hike up Peppermint Creek led to this impressive waterfall:</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYB-vHu8NE_Cqz1W8Y9cpUpcFph7yhhKo6yqUuw3mhMD_V-V0o9GuDMuemtlkAnGcdX5oYTLx9JCWydFPevzewX0VOwwqWsHZdclQCXjLdm7TSacL5otc1TIiVdfPnwVxd-a0gziU1eCa/s1600-h/11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDYB-vHu8NE_Cqz1W8Y9cpUpcFph7yhhKo6yqUuw3mhMD_V-V0o9GuDMuemtlkAnGcdX5oYTLx9JCWydFPevzewX0VOwwqWsHZdclQCXjLdm7TSacL5otc1TIiVdfPnwVxd-a0gziU1eCa/s320/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397442657956879218" border="0" /></a></div><br />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.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Continuous whitewater on the Forks of the Kern:</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Eg8uM8SpzRI6La3ybrgsjj1RDL8DllWweZeIWZ61yVAjPLVGCCXxVuP34Uu0hYWOTLPDqz3jMChvg7IMv3rz4xI1VVwyu_vjjpBLWWbk1xuhVAAqg4NyaxAp6Al2w_AeIUILK-hwZvrI/s1600-h/7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Eg8uM8SpzRI6La3ybrgsjj1RDL8DllWweZeIWZ61yVAjPLVGCCXxVuP34Uu0hYWOTLPDqz3jMChvg7IMv3rz4xI1VVwyu_vjjpBLWWbk1xuhVAAqg4NyaxAp6Al2w_AeIUILK-hwZvrI/s320/7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397442665742833282" border="0" /></a></div><br />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).<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Will, Dana, and Mary dropping into the hole in Big Bean:</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJxPhKe4envOhp7q4sbvErj0jSWghIXdHStHko_FvucgM6MIMi0XnAOaqxmw2mgZrRVDK1sYxi0Kw0ferHQie0LizpF0SgSYh1uYhe-kQ1pxVdsylMKvZYfsIE361f76g6JfqHxWNoopS/s1600-h/4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJxPhKe4envOhp7q4sbvErj0jSWghIXdHStHko_FvucgM6MIMi0XnAOaqxmw2mgZrRVDK1sYxi0Kw0ferHQie0LizpF0SgSYh1uYhe-kQ1pxVdsylMKvZYfsIE361f76g6JfqHxWNoopS/s320/4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397442661839640642" border="0" /></a></div><br />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.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">About to drop into The Thing:</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzWcLmhIIYukunBu12dDh8v_m8w1EqbaPnoJPgYCRHmlJvE-BEirPD7PjH6voxz1DRXhpYmJ6zjWYy3LTNz77pmWIL4frlblUXNM_bGS203tJYzJZOT7rf1J3l6Bk1COQ7EKKWdGFXqq8/s1600-h/14.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzWcLmhIIYukunBu12dDh8v_m8w1EqbaPnoJPgYCRHmlJvE-BEirPD7PjH6voxz1DRXhpYmJ6zjWYy3LTNz77pmWIL4frlblUXNM_bGS203tJYzJZOT7rf1J3l6Bk1COQ7EKKWdGFXqq8/s320/14.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397435306689197890" border="0" /></a>Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-31465650939687532702009-07-13T13:23:00.000-07:002009-07-15T18:05:04.849-07:00Tales of the Janitor or Confessions from the Stand Up PaddleboardPosted by Tom Meckfessel<p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;">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.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjhwQ1pcDorSI6qYcSD_D_sFtc2odeu7RtFxKabm-5r8cdISDCWlKWkaTnX8GSHqavA_NdtZTLSChmJk4KGSUOp5N9j0gigxF5ht9i4vqSXACjDJJktl0fHB4bQBkqNlmejREoFC7r8Q/s1600-h/SUP4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjhwQ1pcDorSI6qYcSD_D_sFtc2odeu7RtFxKabm-5r8cdISDCWlKWkaTnX8GSHqavA_NdtZTLSChmJk4KGSUOp5N9j0gigxF5ht9i4vqSXACjDJJktl0fHB4bQBkqNlmejREoFC7r8Q/s320/SUP4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358058168983660146" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;">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.</p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"><br /> </p><p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;">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.</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKEpRhM9_yNZBsIt2Xt0C6vNsSDpyBuVNsd0GSEfB9gDhNDhS4O-iTCTCtFpElT1XKVWCvV9XjCPKvimE4mIbh4ZJ9eCqx7ociBOk0fMjuZu9djmjj_De0h1HJe1DG46rybxYF49MEjI/s1600-h/SUP1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKEpRhM9_yNZBsIt2Xt0C6vNsSDpyBuVNsd0GSEfB9gDhNDhS4O-iTCTCtFpElT1XKVWCvV9XjCPKvimE4mIbh4ZJ9eCqx7ociBOk0fMjuZu9djmjj_De0h1HJe1DG46rybxYF49MEjI/s320/SUP1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358058278645361698" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"> 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.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMj7XuhFqB1BZ-Ap1l5yxYUVuHYUcs8ZAKnIgmG0tNKjtuAbfrQD_pRgKARhJmN1lKP37lGH7Z4-IjApHUTROueH_4HVk_6gubiUjhJKOfpJsQdBxDgYIj6dpMOFGdXiSqt93VATkM7vw/s1600-h/SUP3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMj7XuhFqB1BZ-Ap1l5yxYUVuHYUcs8ZAKnIgmG0tNKjtuAbfrQD_pRgKARhJmN1lKP37lGH7Z4-IjApHUTROueH_4HVk_6gubiUjhJKOfpJsQdBxDgYIj6dpMOFGdXiSqt93VATkM7vw/s320/SUP3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358058388055977810" border="0" /></a></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"> 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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_198&products_id=1045">Tahoe Rubicon</a>, 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.</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"> 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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_198&products_id=1046">Sawyer QuickDraw Zephyr</a>. 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.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAsl4uYP74CN2TTljJfNIgzIUHbMKaAJYrC2aqIAIq16no9yvN41ga0VdlqMo7Qu5wialLRoL9P_dpPWkQKp4otupWyGCR2P74GQqH5YOBvrydVWnjReRU71molJ-Rf6Bc_OEVjc82G0/s1600-h/SUP2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAsl4uYP74CN2TTljJfNIgzIUHbMKaAJYrC2aqIAIq16no9yvN41ga0VdlqMo7Qu5wialLRoL9P_dpPWkQKp4otupWyGCR2P74GQqH5YOBvrydVWnjReRU71molJ-Rf6Bc_OEVjc82G0/s320/SUP2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358058513905578450" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"> 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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php">Clavey HQ</a> paddling down the river on a paddleboard. Come join us and rent or demo a board and check this sport out for yourself !</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Times; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none;"><br /></p> <p></p>Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-15802573281004559622009-05-27T17:42:00.000-07:002009-05-27T19:01:12.724-07:00Uncle Owen, this R2 unit has a bad motivator!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb60t2ysEFm_HkFQtO2F8m9R7z6iKWEiUsMIp_WGSDNawidbIxPDbhNxw_xqxx1wifs3k0ITWbt8Zm0UeswRkTZhaAwA80nwz9c2dcbXm_ORrYnBVO5GXHpOMgbo1M_-0cngsXGeiMgo/s1600-h/scooter2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVb60t2ysEFm_HkFQtO2F8m9R7z6iKWEiUsMIp_WGSDNawidbIxPDbhNxw_xqxx1wifs3k0ITWbt8Zm0UeswRkTZhaAwA80nwz9c2dcbXm_ORrYnBVO5GXHpOMgbo1M_-0cngsXGeiMgo/s400/scooter2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340688279984595426" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I’m a big fan of the R2. Two people, one small boat, lots of harmony (lots of swimming).<br /><br />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:<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmR9rBJiTcmF63m23eOSgDZDncpxmdPDip1-ewKldX8lGYvC5JsXNHBC-XdrlxuVz5uSc_L7uPjzWyE2mb6-vGKrGAqUjuamgFcCywVSQzaYksBeltohptmqvuo8IU2-w6I1YOzHyu8E/s1600-h/scooter1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcmR9rBJiTcmF63m23eOSgDZDncpxmdPDip1-ewKldX8lGYvC5JsXNHBC-XdrlxuVz5uSc_L7uPjzWyE2mb6-vGKrGAqUjuamgFcCywVSQzaYksBeltohptmqvuo8IU2-w6I1YOzHyu8E/s400/scooter1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340688166689293650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2ik626B95tg5uxQB8xjXH5VKwJSWN7AfoHC8ifQf5s33ao01RqfXPm1CS-UZRnyuNP4PEPG-URXPI1J2UcAHtXJ61-W3zgVB0ymZh7TCOThV2ahaLFJHmKL_UNq6AoPSmUNSfbI32Qk/s1600-h/pillowrock.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2ik626B95tg5uxQB8xjXH5VKwJSWN7AfoHC8ifQf5s33ao01RqfXPm1CS-UZRnyuNP4PEPG-URXPI1J2UcAHtXJ61-W3zgVB0ymZh7TCOThV2ahaLFJHmKL_UNq6AoPSmUNSfbI32Qk/s400/pillowrock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340688058328876626" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />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.Scottohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05857117180647492828noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-53187313795029914202009-04-30T11:44:00.000-07:002009-04-30T11:48:55.917-07:00GPS 101<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqh_tey2OZFHz7G6g-pb204k_pQP6F0EKsQmshA4FdjuCs-XbJk-CtxHDrFfI3ttXd04dpbxE2duh_KYT2WvWGTZ1Kv6AnZgoorsobcMcWpvL04cICmztZCwFzpMFyFShbNhYql5m4w8Y/s1600-h/GPSClass.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqh_tey2OZFHz7G6g-pb204k_pQP6F0EKsQmshA4FdjuCs-XbJk-CtxHDrFfI3ttXd04dpbxE2duh_KYT2WvWGTZ1Kv6AnZgoorsobcMcWpvL04cICmztZCwFzpMFyFShbNhYql5m4w8Y/s320/GPSClass.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330557758791255746" border="0" /></a><br />Learn the basics of the hand-held waterproof marine GPS.<br />May 13th, 6:30 - 8:30 PM at Clavey River Equipment. Space is limited so <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_191&products_id=969">sign up now</a>Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-26508402445581131702009-04-23T09:50:00.000-07:002009-04-23T11:14:53.470-07:00Trip Report: Middle Fork of the Feather<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIw7rABpy7iYP-bQINUBsdJfalETRNqukJNfIy2chAVLgTEVHUzsVWOHVn91Y8vr_on8r5OyPznIPnJIexgtxGYmvrltkfSKFUWceZmqRXTowEzoZAH0bwbAngVrSRLE2d2XjnioQm-I/s1600-h/17ThirdDaySmall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIw7rABpy7iYP-bQINUBsdJfalETRNqukJNfIy2chAVLgTEVHUzsVWOHVn91Y8vr_on8r5OyPznIPnJIexgtxGYmvrltkfSKFUWceZmqRXTowEzoZAH0bwbAngVrSRLE2d2XjnioQm-I/s320/17ThirdDaySmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327946610230658418" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Middle Fork of the Feather, April 2009</p> <p class="MsoNormal">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 <a href="https://www.clavey.com/PhotoGallery.php">Clavey's Photo Gallery</a>.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I had already made other plans for the weekend.<span style=""> </span>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).<span style=""> </span>But when Scott A called up and said, “We’re trying to put together a Middle Feather trip for this weekend… you in?”<span style=""> </span>I really only hesitated about a minute before replying, “100 Percent, I’m definitely in.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I had been curious about the Middle Feather for a long time.<span style=""> </span>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.”<span style=""> </span>For me, that last statement means: “An adventure!”<span style=""> </span>My mom still asks me, whenever I go on a trip like this, why I am at all inclined to think they are fun.<span style=""> </span>I tell her: “It makes life more interesting.” Truthfully, I think these kinds of trips bring out the best in a lot of us.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Either way, I was very, very excited.<span style=""> </span>By Friday morning, we had a fantastic rag-tag group of eleven people – the best of the skilled, brave, and/or crazy – committed and me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI4Me46-xCdrlXk_nHv-cqkAXbfi1dBSn-BgQuMkjd54JDoK2JOK6gqpdSU7ePaFSU_Dei6QpEbG0Xrt_RUQeVnxjgjY0QZKsutWRN819YbDinoSwqSFGCR-jkXO6ENa1O8VDwZ4FJ4Hw/s1600-h/1PackingUpsmall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI4Me46-xCdrlXk_nHv-cqkAXbfi1dBSn-BgQuMkjd54JDoK2JOK6gqpdSU7ePaFSU_Dei6QpEbG0Xrt_RUQeVnxjgjY0QZKsutWRN819YbDinoSwqSFGCR-jkXO6ENa1O8VDwZ4FJ4Hw/s320/1PackingUpsmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327942503827367746" border="0" /></a>eting in Chico that night.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The dinner and breakfast in Chico before the trip were veritable feasts – we knew we were going to have to pack pretty light.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Luckily Adam, Scott and Jordan (the guides) all seemed adept at understanding each other’s arm-waving, and everyone had a good run.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<span style=""> </span>It was a great spot.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Biggest catch of the evening was a whopping 7 inches long, but it sure tasted good with the thermos of whiskey being passed around.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">On Day 2, we got our first taste of truly big, Class V rapids.<span style=""> </span>Shortly after leaving camp, we found ourselves in “Franklin Canyon”, whose first Class V is Franklin Falls.<span style=""> </span>The Cassidy Calhoun book writes this rapid up as a recommended portage for rafts, but it looked run-able.<span style=""> </span>One raft in our group decided to push their boat, while the other two ran.<span style=""> </span>Turned out to be a great line right down the middle of the falls.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The walls of Franklin canyon are steep and wooded, every once in a while allowing a glimpse of snow-capped mountains peaking above the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XpCprRlARZKcIj2jk5Lrk23JIpd0AE4DEE6HsCGgR6TtOBcDgbRVD7dtj_PZtYxotmQeZz8RSqJfOzowgSkAfQ0h1TU5ZOfRnH2COeZYoC1-cMMEIpat9j2ZpUPRX4gHfrnyylzxW30/s1600-h/11AdamFranklinFallsSmall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XpCprRlARZKcIj2jk5Lrk23JIpd0AE4DEE6HsCGgR6TtOBcDgbRVD7dtj_PZtYxotmQeZz8RSqJfOzowgSkAfQ0h1TU5ZOfRnH2COeZYoC1-cMMEIpat9j2ZpUPRX4gHfrnyylzxW30/s320/11AdamFranklinFallsSmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327949615076370690" border="0" /></a>river’s enclosing ridgelines.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>I was lucky to have any time to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings, though.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>(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.)<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The biggest adventure of the day, and in fact the trip, came at the end of day 2.<span style=""> </span>We reached the obvious and most-often used campsite, where the Pacific Crest trail crosses the river, at about 5 pm.<span style=""> </span>This footbridge and campsite signify the beginning of Devil’s Canyon- the third and most committing gorge of the trip.<span style=""> </span>But a certain participant (to remain anonymous) had a vague memory of a “really awesome ledge camp” somewhere downstream.<span style=""> </span>“How far downstream?” we asked, to which we received the answer “Not sure… but within a few miles I think.”<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<span style=""> </span>We stalled out in the eddy for a few minutes, pondering our little predicament.<span style=""> </span>Finally, Colin said, “I’m up for pushing on.”<span style=""> </span>And that was that; the decision was made.<span style=""> </span>We peeled out of the eddy and pushed on into Devil’s Canyon.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Literally about a quarter of a mile downstream, all indication of potential camping spots completely disappeared from our sights.<span style=""> </span>The canyon walls changed from forest to granite, and became disconcertingly steep.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was exciting to say the least; heart-pounding like almost no other hour of paddling I’ve ever done.<span style=""> </span>(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.)<span style=""> </span>I don’t even know how many rapids we pushed through in that hour and a half.<span style=""> </span>I do, however, remember the scariest one.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Kevin and I held on to the raft as Adam began climbing over the boulders on river right to get a look.<span style=""> </span>The other two rafts eddied out upstream, and Jordan walked down river-left from a ridge about 40 feet above the water’s edge.<span style=""> </span>Neither he nor Adam were able to get to a place where they could really see the middle part of the rapid.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">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. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">We decided to give it a go.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Amazingly, the drop was very clean, and fun.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>The exhilaration of making it through was amazing!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Luckily, we spotted a very tiny beach about 15 minutes downstream from ther<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjw6TkI0ziX3c2F3QmJZqe1gW88FoYXPoiS3sUMhfkrUWd_hxgFlweQFd1VWlPmvy-teeNAU4HVJthk4sEZKqPQDuWt9dfLyIfu8TDChWiZNoR-FUE9LJFCXBOhTTRZcKtwSuJrrZm3U/s1600-h/23small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjw6TkI0ziX3c2F3QmJZqe1gW88FoYXPoiS3sUMhfkrUWd_hxgFlweQFd1VWlPmvy-teeNAU4HVJthk4sEZKqPQDuWt9dfLyIfu8TDChWiZNoR-FUE9LJFCXBOhTTRZcKtwSuJrrZm3U/s320/23small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327950491560987250" border="0" /></a>e, and made the executive decision that this was “Ledge Camp”.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>(The next day we found out exactly where those ledges really were – 7 miles from the Pacific Crest Trail, RIGHT above portage.<span style=""> </span>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!)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Day 3 afforded us a little more time to appreciate the splendor of Devil’s canyon in full daylight.<span style=""> </span>Waterfalls dropped from granite cliffs and painted stripes of green algae against canyon walls.<span style=""> </span>Deep pools shone their true blue-green against the light-colored rocks, and dark forests still covered the hillsides beyond the canyon.<span style=""> </span>I would say that the Middle Feather truly gets better and better with each day, surprising you with its ability to do so.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">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.<span style=""> </span>The write-ups all call the portage “strenuous” and some even go so far as to say “heinous”.<span style=""> </span>As much as I would love to be able to disagree, I cannot.<span style=""> </span>It truly is heinous.<span style=""> </span>The trail is narrow, high above the river, dusty, and looooong.<span style=""> </span>We had to completely de-rig the boats, carry each one sideways along the sketchy trail, and then go back for all the gear.<span style=""> </span>However, three days on that river are completely worth the effort!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBkjLO9uEHneJwgXK6s8WdIS-qfNR4q1rSsRdtDm62fHn-AMBcQVKpsqb91ePJk6vcKpfVNlpGmD-I5bxv0olp6bwg_HayZRil_EDQaI0bfxLQAplvzH6eaV6V7goHUdHh2sWXf9evcM/s1600-h/26small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBkjLO9uEHneJwgXK6s8WdIS-qfNR4q1rSsRdtDm62fHn-AMBcQVKpsqb91ePJk6vcKpfVNlpGmD-I5bxv0olp6bwg_HayZRil_EDQaI0bfxLQAplvzH6eaV6V7goHUdHh2sWXf9evcM/s320/26small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327951632060288786" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After portage there is a last stretch of really big rapids, ending with “Grand Finale” just a mile above take-out.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>And that last rapid is truly a “Grand Finale,” not just named such because of its location.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">By take-out I was probably more sore than I had ever been before, but happily so.<span style=""> </span>I am in complete agreement with Holbeck and Stanley that the Middle Feather is, in fact, the best wilderness run in California.<span style=""> </span>It is truly continuous Class IV-V in the heart of its canyons, and incredibly scenic.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Wouldn’t change a thing… except maybe to find those mysterious ledges just a “few” miles downstream of the entrance to Devil’s Canyon…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-12650699790071897712009-03-16T15:13:00.000-07:002009-03-19T10:46:53.007-07:00Trip Report: The Green Truss of the White Salmon<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Fear is exhausting. Fear is exhausting. Fear is exhausting. </span></span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Why’s it a bad idea?</span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />Here's a short video of our run. Like most videos, it doesn't do any justice:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MKoEka4S1zw&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MKoEka4S1zw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />More Double Drop Video:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PYTgznTNaCQ&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PYTgznTNaCQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-41255833575972096312008-12-10T11:08:00.000-08:002008-12-10T11:27:48.916-08:00Kayak Safety Gear or not ?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIamkmDqvUqnBSDNpwVtPajiE8AadNmdTJftiq-DhMp7j3MSKzCmYNz2fU1AhzpVIPN5bJ1RKeXPfT7MLRpbN5E6-85Ypi4W4sCyUi0q4sPVoCg7t3iftHgAwVHhuF00-BjYVLVsWKkoQ/s1600-h/DSCN0074.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIamkmDqvUqnBSDNpwVtPajiE8AadNmdTJftiq-DhMp7j3MSKzCmYNz2fU1AhzpVIPN5bJ1RKeXPfT7MLRpbN5E6-85Ypi4W4sCyUi0q4sPVoCg7t3iftHgAwVHhuF00-BjYVLVsWKkoQ/s320/DSCN0074.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278240886822110082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1ZaTfyiEEnR0cDeDpXV8-KzrWZXre6-6D-TLqV4YdsFqtqJ3IFr3IYvR7h5keJ7OUFWQbPrxd_ly9DS0vPKtWBt-Td_c8bTVQi_brsbTDsj4MLbjYiLi1-tRNDn0Rf1v0NOPMH08YJM/s1600-h/DSC_0006.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1ZaTfyiEEnR0cDeDpXV8-KzrWZXre6-6D-TLqV4YdsFqtqJ3IFr3IYvR7h5keJ7OUFWQbPrxd_ly9DS0vPKtWBt-Td_c8bTVQi_brsbTDsj4MLbjYiLi1-tRNDn0Rf1v0NOPMH08YJM/s320/DSC_0006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278240886067866322" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRWRjpkhIBc9dxhqGeDJ4uNeff-zi5BKhzINJnLBsYkW1_uYT0mrJz9AeSykFh_WUKkZyFsOPaVh6U-44MRsliOIsgZqnKOPTs2VDQYA_EUwiSj-h2zGFWPXOsSgvtyFmVN0zuzFWIkk/s1600-h/DSC_0065.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirRWRjpkhIBc9dxhqGeDJ4uNeff-zi5BKhzINJnLBsYkW1_uYT0mrJz9AeSykFh_WUKkZyFsOPaVh6U-44MRsliOIsgZqnKOPTs2VDQYA_EUwiSj-h2zGFWPXOsSgvtyFmVN0zuzFWIkk/s320/DSC_0065.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278240883764848130" /></a><br />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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_28&products_id=481">Necky Chatham 16 Carbon kayak</a> 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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=5_72">Mysterioso tops and bottoms</a>, a pair of <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=5_69">Soft Seat Guide shorts</a>, my <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=5_74&products_id=278">PacLite Pullover</a>, a MsFit Tour lifejacket, grabbed my favorite <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_33&products_id=131">Werner Kalliste</a> paddle and hauled my kayak down to the shore (what am I missing??). I slipped into the kayak, put on my <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_34&products_id=526">neoprene skirt </a>and headed out into the 2’-3’ shore beak.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I surfaced, grabbed boat and paddle, and looked for my safety gear <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=2_38">(paddle float and bilge pump)</a> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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! <br /><br /> <br /><br />Basic Cold Water Kayaking Gear:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=5">Insulation and Drysuit or Wetsuit</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=5">Paddle Jacket</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=5">Booties and Socks</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=2_34">Spray Skirt</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=5_78&products_id=315">Skull Cap</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=2_38">Paddle Float<br /><br />Bilge Pump</a><br /><br />Dry Clothes<br /><br />Communication Device<br /><br />Common Sense<br /><br /><br />-Tom "safety-first" MeckfesselThe #1 Clavey Fanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463667840159917712noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-88104583796587554592008-12-01T18:19:00.000-08:002008-12-10T11:31:00.834-08:00Rafting on the Rogue River (with a permit)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSv8hCLgWfinLzR-u3wlAJaD8rQhz1gBNMnULjgTOX34VmA0pxiJLTAIe4HC_l1Fl6u5DrP1V418kSb5Av2-bwJI-NZw5wNeaQT1WyiRFVvbzk2AMpaQMIl003K2K7J2Ie10tDbLQy6z8/s1600-h/PICT0079.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSv8hCLgWfinLzR-u3wlAJaD8rQhz1gBNMnULjgTOX34VmA0pxiJLTAIe4HC_l1Fl6u5DrP1V418kSb5Av2-bwJI-NZw5wNeaQT1WyiRFVvbzk2AMpaQMIl003K2K7J2Ie10tDbLQy6z8/s320/PICT0079.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275015716085878322" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv449AiCN5kcLAOFTnkRaJMDO6aAtRgy5ep1yOsUeGnjnnrUM4lkfs4kDa2jf-5ockXbcvQL8xaB6eQ56ZKK5mVg9cEBkRZ0w884KPRMWFY1kMLa6ZqvTPagJul9XMLa7KWQlPNy9EzA/s1600-h/PICT0062.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv449AiCN5kcLAOFTnkRaJMDO6aAtRgy5ep1yOsUeGnjnnrUM4lkfs4kDa2jf-5ockXbcvQL8xaB6eQ56ZKK5mVg9cEBkRZ0w884KPRMWFY1kMLa6ZqvTPagJul9XMLa7KWQlPNy9EzA/s320/PICT0062.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275015708203196786" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGka3QvRWIStN8nelKqWNvW2uI9EwfQwGz4BUqv3BXbAiydBn00z3-ccPxvtSD7hEhVJc2ODvN94NacbQJwY817_6Ep4iP9uoSNtAUZRdSMJBsq61tZWlQ9SUNxXqvkMrnkfcTf2WhT5A/s1600-h/PICT0051.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGka3QvRWIStN8nelKqWNvW2uI9EwfQwGz4BUqv3BXbAiydBn00z3-ccPxvtSD7hEhVJc2ODvN94NacbQJwY817_6Ep4iP9uoSNtAUZRdSMJBsq61tZWlQ9SUNxXqvkMrnkfcTf2WhT5A/s320/PICT0051.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275015706550831890" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiia6NiyYuCBJCOK0mCwkR8iZgETEe_fTH4mfaHLaScXTjUIP3GZ_WlMq4-nNg08pXEMFWYrQdvGKqM7N1zbFUn1-_5XMUiycSI_x7zp694Ic5CBZUwWBqCR31JRtk3VP_NgdePKpc1ano/s1600-h/PICT0035.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiia6NiyYuCBJCOK0mCwkR8iZgETEe_fTH4mfaHLaScXTjUIP3GZ_WlMq4-nNg08pXEMFWYrQdvGKqM7N1zbFUn1-_5XMUiycSI_x7zp694Ic5CBZUwWBqCR31JRtk3VP_NgdePKpc1ano/s320/PICT0035.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275015699652468690" /></a><br />How to get your Rogue River permit (including real photos of the Klamath River).<br /><br />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 <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.clavey.com">www.clavey.com</a> <http://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. <br /><br />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 <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=1_8_169&products_id=4">Avon Expedition</a> and our <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_7">Clavey Rig</a> and start looking for a launch date on the Rogue for sometime in July.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.blm.gov/or/resources/recreation/rogue/about-permits.php">There are four ways you can get a private boaters permit on the Rogue: </a><br /><br />#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. <br /><br />#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. <br /><br />#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...<br /><br /> #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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />And thus #5. Run the Klamath River instead.</http://www.clavey.com><div><a href="http://www.clavey.com/RiverLinks.php">(You can find links for other permit applications on our links page)</a></div><div><br /></div><div>--Scotto</div>The #1 Clavey Fanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463667840159917712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-10069847017865149292008-11-26T12:20:00.000-08:002008-12-10T11:31:45.580-08:00The Petaluma River: From the Source to the Sea<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfJydkJukSErMK_oifcRpV5UwXFziVc_wQGplPM-KmyF3_BMZTYlehCuSWazrjcl_M3KIuPjPiYz_YgixumkiIQ_P5EQnEN1lDeDmAY-mcXXEoONEG-L0c3FyFr2ZH7_nYa2KC4DMkI4/s1600-h/PICT0050_2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfJydkJukSErMK_oifcRpV5UwXFziVc_wQGplPM-KmyF3_BMZTYlehCuSWazrjcl_M3KIuPjPiYz_YgixumkiIQ_P5EQnEN1lDeDmAY-mcXXEoONEG-L0c3FyFr2ZH7_nYa2KC4DMkI4/s320/PICT0050_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273069427716741842" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43swTg56kFuK3qKNAhWh5IDB4rU7hOkIWA3m8G91vrKmWOHuvQY9QR8q7MZAEWWaALCJ5OvDOvFc7ThlOiI9KXptiNTfdK8q6Kygoo0rVpJODPh5VRa4K4cJNzEqAlnvOmEzMY-CIibs/s1600-h/PICT0034_2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43swTg56kFuK3qKNAhWh5IDB4rU7hOkIWA3m8G91vrKmWOHuvQY9QR8q7MZAEWWaALCJ5OvDOvFc7ThlOiI9KXptiNTfdK8q6Kygoo0rVpJODPh5VRa4K4cJNzEqAlnvOmEzMY-CIibs/s320/PICT0034_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273069422558372738" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNNwQ8nKnmgzYgccQAnIZ5Mx_iu7JRPsOncKs4eNcWPh5aXIyxWiDiwDZWZ4suzJg8rzhx0l2zehVtVJBfJI-ur6kQI1uGERV4-WizB25Ka7ZSYsqKOgT0JFY1rW_rxBDVoRoCMKNE-g/s1600-h/PICT0030.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNNwQ8nKnmgzYgccQAnIZ5Mx_iu7JRPsOncKs4eNcWPh5aXIyxWiDiwDZWZ4suzJg8rzhx0l2zehVtVJBfJI-ur6kQI1uGERV4-WizB25Ka7ZSYsqKOgT0JFY1rW_rxBDVoRoCMKNE-g/s320/PICT0030.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273069423466848706" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9jyKntW5uFnU8k7aECLaehJcNv_MDGdQfkRvi-aIyhMl8U2mxa5Qk0OrlKG3BmuYXpjfngMfB3Shc8oBsbd3J4bFmhyphenhyphenLM49Da0wemJLEmDONh1BVsFyN6uBuvwrvNXEsYJBmTQwOrxI/s1600-h/PICT0012_2_2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9jyKntW5uFnU8k7aECLaehJcNv_MDGdQfkRvi-aIyhMl8U2mxa5Qk0OrlKG3BmuYXpjfngMfB3Shc8oBsbd3J4bFmhyphenhyphenLM49Da0wemJLEmDONh1BVsFyN6uBuvwrvNXEsYJBmTQwOrxI/s320/PICT0012_2_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273069422298143426" /></a><br />So technically the Petaluma isn’t really a river, it’s a tidal slough. And being a slough, it can’t really have a source, per se, so we actually started at the Petaluma Marina. Also, it doesn’t really flow to the sea, it flows into San Pablo Bay which, in turn, becomes San Francisco bay which, of course, eventually opens up into the Pacific Ocean. So while we maybe didn’t really paddle all the way to the sea, we did actually paddle all the way to the Black Point Marina which does actually sit at the mouth of the Petaluma River at San Pablo Bay. Probably ten to twelve miles all said and done.<br /><br />Our trip began the way so many of our trips begin - with me driving back home to the house to get my bag of gear I left in the garage. So our plan to put on the water at 9am slowly became our reality of putting on around noon. Luckily the tide was on a solid ebb and the wind was at our back, but still we were on the water for almost three hours of fairly leisurely paddling downstream. The tide when we put on was probably between 3 and 4 feet so while we didn’t get the great view of getting on the water at a 6+ high tide, we didn’t get the mud flats view of the low tide either.<br /><br />If you’re not into half marathon paddles, you can either, stop at Papas Taverna and take out, or start at Papas and continue. In our kayaks, which were definitely <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=2_28">“touring” boats</a>, the first leg of the journey took an hour and the remainder, from Papas to the mouth, close to two. You can, of course, make a round trip of any of the river but chances are, at some point, you’ll be fight the wind or the current.<br /><br />Tom and Jeff took our two carbon kayaks from Necky, the Chatham 17 and the <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_28&products_id=480">Looksha IV</a> respectively. I took the <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=2_28&products_id=486">Eddyline Fathom</a>. All three boats, being plenty fast (and all three paddlers, being plenty lazy), we kept up with each other just fine. That being said, allow yourself more time if you’re in a more recreational or sit-on-top kayak.<br /><br />If you’re looking for a fun, easy river with lots of birding that allows you to take advantage of some natural cheats (like wind and tide), we can highly recommend the Petaluma.<br /><br />For more info on the Petaluma River, checkout: www.friendsofthepetalumariver.org<br /><br />As a side note, the three kayaks we used on our journey, the Carbon Chatham 17, the Carbon Looksha IV & the Eddyline Fathom are all now for sale at “wow” prices.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=2_28">2008 Chatham 17 Carbon Demo $2695<br />2008 Looksha IV Carbon Demo $2695<br />2008 Eddyline Fathom Demo $2095 </a><br /><br /><br /><br />-Scotto GalbreathThe #1 Clavey Fanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463667840159917712noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-60344880349217160712008-11-25T10:27:00.000-08:002008-11-25T14:55:09.519-08:00Avons on the Illinois River, OregonThe first Illinois rafting trip since June launched November 15th. Flows were projected to be around 3500 CFS. Alas, the rain did not come and we ran the Illinois at an epically low flow of around 500 CFS. With little daylight and water, the going was slow. The pools between the rapids became ponds. Nevertheless, the Illinois NEVER disappoints. Besides, it's hard to complain when you come off the Illinios with a sunburned nose.<br /><br />We camped out South Bend (approximately a 17-mile day) and got up real early on Sunday to reach take-out. Immediately we hit Prelude Rapid (which at this low flow had a rock sticking up in the airplane turn) and then Green Wall. The top drop at Green Wall was particularly interesting at this flow. Slot "b" was not even an option!<br /><br />After running through Green Wall we continued for the next three miles with some great read-and-run water. We then hit Submarine Hole, which honestly just looked like rocks. Where'd the water go? Oh, yes, mostly into the undercut wall on the right. Thankfully, the slot on the left was just wide-enough for an <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?products_id=802">Avon Adventurer</a> (although somewhat deflated :)<br /><br />Overall, another stellar Illinois trip. Participants on this trip included four guides for <a href="http://www.idahoriverjourneys.com/">Idaho River Journeys</a>, a few Portlander types, and the <a href="http://www.oregonrafting.org/sou_whitewater_club/">SOU Whitewater Club</a>.<br /><br />Here are two videos Alan Douglass was able to capture. The first is of Skip Volpert of IRJ running the 10' Avon dubbed "Rosie" through Green Wall. The second is of all three Avon rafts running / pushing through Submarine Hole. Enjoy!<br /><br />Skip at Green Wall:<br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tqqj98x19HM&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tqqj98x19HM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /><a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1">Avon Rafts</a> through Submarine Hole:<br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/g5lzb0yvXCE&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/g5lzb0yvXCE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-44734173663381600462008-11-18T10:17:00.000-08:002008-11-18T10:33:10.508-08:00Kayaking the Caves of Mendocino<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yURYg-fs97iLEakVdOwxmHaTHjJvKA6_ghEhV-ImMFSZdsw2MimXsVy3bMM4yd8VhyOb0wRMgnfEtiYIRc1-RRu9gUzo77gyrAsBr6IVXrWZDQEcWgv6yMsg8nuQNzZjQ94i6jsk75k/s1600-h/Skootching.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yURYg-fs97iLEakVdOwxmHaTHjJvKA6_ghEhV-ImMFSZdsw2MimXsVy3bMM4yd8VhyOb0wRMgnfEtiYIRc1-RRu9gUzo77gyrAsBr6IVXrWZDQEcWgv6yMsg8nuQNzZjQ94i6jsk75k/s320/Skootching.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270064529528605842" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZu7_8btTVGB4x7_meAOVWjsuDsts476BCxTo7BYhenvTZel7RktJSxoz7gQhDJgqpyhTvnErA2dE9oC1PvDtsXTP66vg0HJsHl5fud56VjD7iNR7-bFAXa_l11f6L5ehUPxtMfvAQklg/s1600-h/tunnel+surfing+buckhorn+cove.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZu7_8btTVGB4x7_meAOVWjsuDsts476BCxTo7BYhenvTZel7RktJSxoz7gQhDJgqpyhTvnErA2dE9oC1PvDtsXTP66vg0HJsHl5fud56VjD7iNR7-bFAXa_l11f6L5ehUPxtMfvAQklg/s320/tunnel+surfing+buckhorn+cove.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270064522879045666" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-VR3tye8XYLMTQEfgeb4tnGhkGeGnGqAv2cZZix9Euyiocl6oHQTF3gxdM6BqQ-mOIdraMzzKQboQFy-L4ko-u7_CIeKoqzZofzslsAcl-FI46zBjLhilQuwjigmUPZliQKS-NLK-9P0/s1600-h/mendo+arch.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-VR3tye8XYLMTQEfgeb4tnGhkGeGnGqAv2cZZix9Euyiocl6oHQTF3gxdM6BqQ-mOIdraMzzKQboQFy-L4ko-u7_CIeKoqzZofzslsAcl-FI46zBjLhilQuwjigmUPZliQKS-NLK-9P0/s320/mendo+arch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270064512013680530" /></a><br />Kayaking the Caves of Mendocino<br /><br />Three hours north of San Francisco is Mendocino, home to some of the coolest sea kayaking you’ve ever done. My girlfriend Nicole and I took off for a weekend on the water early in October of 2008 and were rewarded with some of the best weather the California coast has ever seen. <br /><br />The Pacific Ocean looked like a sheet of glass as we slipped into the water at Van Damme State Park and after just a few short paddle strokes to the north, we hit the first of over a dozen caves and arches we would see that day. After playing around in there for a little while we headed back into the sun, rounded the corner and began a fun little run north into the “inside passage” - a fairly protected, ever narrowing channel that dead ends into a tide pool a mile and a half or so from the beach at Van Damme.<br /><br />After a little lunch and a little harassing of tide pool creatures, we slipped back into the water and south to Buckhorn Cove. Something they’re not going to run out of anytime soon, there on the Mendocino coast, is bull kelp. And once we got through all that kelp we were able to surf a neat little wave that built via the swell pushing through a tunnel at Buckhorn. We could see some fairly cool looking arches on the south end of the cove but were too lazy to fight the kelp to take a look and headed north again to see what we could find on the way back to the car...more of the same cool caves and tunnels.<br /><br />The next day only got better. We parked the car on the north side of the bridge and carried the boats down to the quickly flowing waters of the Big River. Paddling past some surfers taking advantage of the wave that breaks at the mouth, we made our way around the town of Mendocino and through the dozens of tiny islands that surround the Mendocino Headlands. We were expecting a let down after yesterday but instead were met with another typical California day on the water, you know, where each day is better than the day before. Caves and tunnels and arches. Oh my! Again, we didn’t paddle all that far, probably five miles all said and done, but the adventure and beauty and fun packed into those miles were considerably greater than the last few hundred miles before it. <br /><br />The key, we found to the Caves of Mendo, was to really hug the coast. Fifty yards out and who knows what kind of good stuff you’ll miss. Every time there was a little cove, be it 100 yards across or only 10 yards across, we made sure to make an exploratory probe and eight times out of ten we we’re rewarded with another neat little cave, arch or tunnel. <br /><br />And remember, there’s a considerable difference in headroom between low tide and high and a lot of these caves have yet to install proper lighting and can be a little dark so be sure to bring a <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=4_66">headlamp</a> and a <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_23">helmet</a>. Also, because we often banged up against walls and skootched over rocks as the swell caused the water to rise and drop, we were glad to be in a couple of plastic kayaks and not some shiny glass yaks.<br /><br />For a great guidebook on this and other classic paddle trips check out: <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=2_42_112">Guide to Sea Kayaking Central & Northern California by Roger Schumann & Jan Shriner</a>.<br /><br />Posted by ScottoThe #1 Clavey Fanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463667840159917712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-68171067159406007442008-11-11T15:37:00.000-08:002008-11-11T17:06:08.690-08:00Scotto and Jeff's Excellent UK Adventure<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUBtDze1aLM_YJhR2efr6tnDo58bcuwu4gCR_xYus7MWrKix147cg98d1T5JKk80jHkuZ2G4gUppaGMNe0yV9o8mA8GuYVkpRylsYkYwmSeOAGe87lTpFjQ5JmU4cECVAOyl0g9i7McI/s1600-h/DSCN2413.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsUBtDze1aLM_YJhR2efr6tnDo58bcuwu4gCR_xYus7MWrKix147cg98d1T5JKk80jHkuZ2G4gUppaGMNe0yV9o8mA8GuYVkpRylsYkYwmSeOAGe87lTpFjQ5JmU4cECVAOyl0g9i7McI/s320/DSCN2413.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267562370784006434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pvfBMqApUVQzEYspfpXXU6X1QrtSfI3StQrpiu0Ai0_cYLYBQofJKjuT1rn4t6hlwJU1Gu-E2mH3_9rEL3Oc2PnbGt7xWPIaV3x-ObBZs-kZAeZqkvyKsnbhgGXGfyYNZ8pYMof0gQU/s1600-h/DSCN2414.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pvfBMqApUVQzEYspfpXXU6X1QrtSfI3StQrpiu0Ai0_cYLYBQofJKjuT1rn4t6hlwJU1Gu-E2mH3_9rEL3Oc2PnbGt7xWPIaV3x-ObBZs-kZAeZqkvyKsnbhgGXGfyYNZ8pYMof0gQU/s320/DSCN2414.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267562363313898818" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkhd3hcOLxHylrAwfVO4PImAsIR5iGiNn8NFYeSbrrzCdl3KUtGeQfFmk5C4TPouyoRFoo9aMIsxwCLPHmlQ3-VxZo0R5iP7VhvuIRCkLuttVdbXsP2SnPVm8OmnWDsnDo1XeEx4rFDw/s1600-h/DSCN2412.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkhd3hcOLxHylrAwfVO4PImAsIR5iGiNn8NFYeSbrrzCdl3KUtGeQfFmk5C4TPouyoRFoo9aMIsxwCLPHmlQ3-VxZo0R5iP7VhvuIRCkLuttVdbXsP2SnPVm8OmnWDsnDo1XeEx4rFDw/s320/DSCN2412.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267562356515627762" /></a><br /><div>As the US Distributor for Avon riverboats, we visit the UK factory every year, where the finest rafts in the industry are built.</div>Here's our week in the UK: Arrive in London at 10am local time Check in to the hotel and try to stay awake for another 12 hours, utilizing the patented <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Clavey</span> method of walking from pub to pub (beats jet-lag every time). Unable to stay awake any longer, we crash had no later than 9pm and expect to sleep through the night. Wake up around 3am and mumble obscenities until coffee is finally available.<div><br /></div><div>Around 11 am on our second day Mark Hart, our Avon rep, picks us up. We then drive for four hours to the Welsh city by the sea, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Llanelli</span>, stopping only once for bad coffee and stale pasties. By late afternoon we arrive at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Stradey</span> Park Hotel, which both Jeff and I can can give the big two thumbs up. After taking a brief stroll about the town we meet back at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Stradey</span> for dinner with Mark and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Huw</span> Griffiths, the managing director of Avon Inflatables. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Huw</span> will inevitably ask the waitress the same question he asks before each dinner we've ever had with him, "What kind of meat pies do you have?" Having then stayed awake until ten, we expect a complete and full nights sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>Day three. Wake up at 4am. Mumble obscenities. Wait for breakfast. Regret trying the off-colored sausage. Drink about 18 cups of coffee waiting for Jeff to wake up (bastard). Then, late morning, we head over to the Avon factory for some negotiations based on the exchange rates of the dollar , the British pound and the Euro. When you're talking money with the Welsh, sometimes temperatures can start to rise and words can start to get a little loud. When this happens Jeff and I fall back on our tried and true fail safe strategy - badmouth the French. This always brings the Avon guys back to the table with a new affinity toward us regardless of pricing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Once we get the meetings out of the way, we take our annual tour of the Avon factory to see all of our boats that are being built as well as all the cool boats being built for the Ministry of Defence. There's not a lot they can't build right there at the factory. The place is clean, organized and efficient. And even though there's a fair amount of solvents and glue used in assembling inflatables, not a whiff of fumes anywhere in the building. I'm not real good at judging the size of things, but by my best guess, the Avon factory is probably about a million square feet. Maybe more. After our tear-filled goodbyes and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">promises</span> to write, we get back in the car for the four hour drive back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Londontown</span>, Once <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">back</span> at the hotel, we throw our bags back into our rooms and head out for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Clavey</span> Pub, Curry, and Crawl. Sleep through the night (finally). </div><div><br /></div><div>Day Four is filled with free museums and expensive gifts for the family. It doesn't really matter what you buy, when the value of the dollar is half the value of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">the pound</span>, all gifts are expensive. After the culture and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">cavalcade</span> of gifts, we head back to the pubs for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">healthy</span> meal and a beer. Maybe two. Three beers at the most, I swear (ask <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Scotto</span> about the cider too). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Mmmm</span>...sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>Five in-flight movies and ten hours later we're back in California...totally unable to sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's some fun facts about the Avon factory in Wales:</div><div><ul><li>Avon is on of the largest employers in the town of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Llanelli</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">which</span> God only knows how, is pronounced <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Klen</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">etyl</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">ee</span>).</li><li>Avon builds whitewater rafts alongside all the boats they build for the Navy, Coast Guard, Marines and Special Forces.</li><li>All negotiations and meetings come to a screeching halt at 10:30 sharp for morning tea time.</li><li>The local beer is Double Dragon "The National Ale of Wales" and is the best way to wash down a Welsh meat pie.</li><li>Avon has the single best ventilation system of any boat factory in the world.</li><li>The average Avon employee has been with the factory for 22 years.</li><li>The sun only comes out twice a year, turning Avon employees' pasty white skin to an uncomfortable burn in the time it takes them to run from their cares to the protection of the factory.</li><li>Sticking with the bacon and avoiding the sausage is the best move at the Hotel's breakfast bar.</li></ul></div><div><br /></div><div>To see more photos of the Avon factory, visit <a href="http://www.clavey.com/PhotoGallery.php">www.clavey.com/PhotoGallery.php</a></div>Jeff "Silky" Kellogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02028310845775109628noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-74934521086243729412008-11-05T21:37:00.000-08:002008-11-05T22:04:39.402-08:00The surf is UP - What to do with it?Rain, rain, and rain. That's the weather forecast for much of the Pacific Northwest in the next 10 days. What's that mean for boating? Look for the Illinois River in Southern Oregon, up 3000 CFS three days ago. Check out the Smith River in Northern California, up 12,000 CFS two days ago. When it rains, the rare coastal runs are where it's at. The little-known "Lobster Creek" into the Rogue River or "10-mile Creek" into the South Fork of the Eel become top destinations. Of course, "top" does not mean popular.<br /><br />In Southern Oregon, a few great little-known runs include the Applegate (tributary to the Rogue), Carberry Creek (trib to the Applegate, first raft descent last year, III-IV+), and Grave's Creek (put-in creek for the Rogue, various runs between II-V).<br /><br />Moving north towards Portland, don't miss the "Miracle Mile" on the North Fork of the Middle Fork of the Willamette (it's harder to run than say ten times fast, V), the Santiam always is running due to dam releases but the extra rain pads the flow, and the Clackamas is a great fallback. Moving up the Columbia Gorge you'll hit some bizarre weather but some even crazier rivers. The White Salmon, Washougal, Wind, and Hood make some of the best whitewater around.<br /><br />For Northern California, look at every tributary for the Klamath. The Scott River (IV-V) , Indian Creek (II-III (P)), Elk Creek (III-IV), Clear Creek (various sections, II-V), and the Cal-Salmon (IV+) are some great places to begin your topo investigation. Recently, the McCloud (into the Sacramento, III/IV) had releases. For a weekend adventure, pair it up with the Box Canyon of the Sacramento (class IV).<br /><br />It's raining. It's boating season. Surf is UP!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Surfin' it up on the White Salmon:</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO6LQFTehQ93oTknuSqpuIVapfkFoUfMB8XVxkRtnwAPSvywcVEUGk3eKLvChYpfroQVPNg6sOkNUGkOLRZ2sIxuYekNfUAQcF2qs4x5kiwfLOqQu804vdcRiBvXL4AZrkZfiGAB55Xj0G/s1600-h/IMGP8577.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO6LQFTehQ93oTknuSqpuIVapfkFoUfMB8XVxkRtnwAPSvywcVEUGk3eKLvChYpfroQVPNg6sOkNUGkOLRZ2sIxuYekNfUAQcF2qs4x5kiwfLOqQu804vdcRiBvXL4AZrkZfiGAB55Xj0G/s400/IMGP8577.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265418091505213314" border="0" /></a>Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-78907627237151864672008-10-27T16:41:00.001-07:002008-10-27T17:34:50.481-07:00Trip Report: The Orletta section of the White SalmonThis last Sunday, October 26, my brother Skip and I decided to put our new 10' <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_8">Avon</a> to the test. With no recent rain, most of the steep creek and epic raft runs of the Pacific Northwest are still dried up and waiting for the first big storm. When this is the case, the Middle White Salmon (MWS) is a great back-up run. It is fed mainly by spring water so it always has a decent flow.<br /><br />A great addition to the MWS is the two-mile stretch above the typical put-in at BZ Corner. This is known as the Orletta section because access is via the hike down Orletta Creek. When there is more run-off, the Green Truss (class V / V+) offers an exhilerating run for rafts and a slightly easier put-in. For this Sunday, however, Orletta was the way to go.<br /><br />It took roughly half an hour to get our boat from the road to the actual river. This was due in part to our lack of insight into the Orletta Creek drainage. In hindsight, it is heinous to carry an inflated raft down the drainage. However, we thought that to save time we would, 1) not bother to "scout out" the hike-in, and 2) carry everything down in one trip. So, we blew up the boat and threw all of our gear inside the inflated raft. Thus, we made it as heavy as possible.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Here we are going underneath the highway, not realizing what was ahead (courtesy of Ryan Morgan):</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBHKcWa5F_j20jilVmAND5qCzVK_EBfeOOPVd98jEZPttHPfasI3zk3cjddQSi8DyLGpYo_2SjvXLzOFKSN1OxhEXOb_bMCupe8hzM5UjwIe3capP2NBKrbquQjPPhsPTdmPe5ta_cP0n/s1600-h/through_tunnel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBHKcWa5F_j20jilVmAND5qCzVK_EBfeOOPVd98jEZPttHPfasI3zk3cjddQSi8DyLGpYo_2SjvXLzOFKSN1OxhEXOb_bMCupe8hzM5UjwIe3capP2NBKrbquQjPPhsPTdmPe5ta_cP0n/s400/through_tunnel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261986860391190642" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Here we are, realizing that we are boneheads for not scouting Orletta Creek (courtesy of Ryan Morgan):</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_ih8tArCWJVokubR1ow17-9wrbWCKunmDpBNLpQTR7c5GQY7VxUw1jPdxYHN3-qHaJq_1qqzNJqlrvVC_XRHaEDIvR-i-MrXuEpQMwuCRpnDsS4ro4fl4yZCY5fWkGyeA990W5zjEwAe/s1600-h/steep_hike_in.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_ih8tArCWJVokubR1ow17-9wrbWCKunmDpBNLpQTR7c5GQY7VxUw1jPdxYHN3-qHaJq_1qqzNJqlrvVC_XRHaEDIvR-i-MrXuEpQMwuCRpnDsS4ro4fl4yZCY5fWkGyeA990W5zjEwAe/s400/steep_hike_in.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261986863921705858" border="0" /></a><br />After finally reaching the river, we realized that we had left our water bottles in my truck. After sweating prefusely to reach the river, this made each of us fairly disappointed in our poor planning. Nevertheless, we pushed off and headed downstream.<br /><br />The Orletta stretch offers some great class IV whitewater. At this low flow, it was fairly technical but in our nimble boat we made it through everything just fine. After two quick miles of continuous whitewater, we reached BZ Falls. We scouted it briefly but the decision was easy: neither of us wanted to swim and explore the nasty-looking undercuts at the base of the falls. We ghost-boated. Skip pushed the raft off as I waited downstream. The raft had a great line, I jumped in the river, climbed inside the raft, and paddled the boat to shore.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br />Rosie, the Little Boat that Could, about to run her first waterfall:</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXJqqhoiOTWCa_awIPh5n_Gx_MufhozI6smuqX6eT6pM3eBAW5DdiXqAqtGYzbj5qEQ7Xu58d_-jDm5GtFKeiBweW0gDrutte8gmaiw1MIJGmE_qPoUfO_j3xag9vmDeAQbK6kHGfpN-W/s1600-h/ghost_boat_BZ.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXJqqhoiOTWCa_awIPh5n_Gx_MufhozI6smuqX6eT6pM3eBAW5DdiXqAqtGYzbj5qEQ7Xu58d_-jDm5GtFKeiBweW0gDrutte8gmaiw1MIJGmE_qPoUfO_j3xag9vmDeAQbK6kHGfpN-W/s400/ghost_boat_BZ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261989062546456274" border="0" /></a><br />Below BZ Falls is the typical MWS run. It offers mainly class II riffles with a few class IIIish drops. Until Husum Falls, which is a very clean 8' drop at the take-out. We styled it and paddled to shore where our take-out rig was.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Going over Husum Falls (courtesy of Ryan Morgan):</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmGmK_6BH0KTiKtcesEnfdequFh-hJRD-Yqos-xp_ctxUTaz1uxCTBjzj4e-4o6pjhEIhT5i25-yG0WBzj11F5Up0KsKMJjBUuat7GHmDte2efQpEtOWbkmSrD8LqDPdTDjG_ju6NUP2f/s1600-h/Will_&_Skip_Husum_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmGmK_6BH0KTiKtcesEnfdequFh-hJRD-Yqos-xp_ctxUTaz1uxCTBjzj4e-4o6pjhEIhT5i25-yG0WBzj11F5Up0KsKMJjBUuat7GHmDte2efQpEtOWbkmSrD8LqDPdTDjG_ju6NUP2f/s400/Will_&_Skip_Husum_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261990720065832370" border="0" /></a>We had a great time paddling the White Salmon and we are looking forward to taking this boat on more of the classic runs of the Pacific Northwest. <br /><br />-Will V.Will Volperthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15589734361287017881noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-68717061960574959992008-10-24T11:59:00.000-07:002008-10-24T15:37:47.956-07:00Kayaking and Rafting with kids…a progression<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-u-l5cMMmJpLWYdd2jEa8V7ZodiPUqOjmClMhXM0wojF0eH3GZHfxhboiaCktxLSOjie5ImjYbLAK_Klz8SgBDxur1hc9zmBo6z5gG-JxNJufosDLC0_Ia9WCFCWrI_T1ibjS2cY2Ww/s1600-h/IMG_0379.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-u-l5cMMmJpLWYdd2jEa8V7ZodiPUqOjmClMhXM0wojF0eH3GZHfxhboiaCktxLSOjie5ImjYbLAK_Klz8SgBDxur1hc9zmBo6z5gG-JxNJufosDLC0_Ia9WCFCWrI_T1ibjS2cY2Ww/s320/IMG_0379.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260797743408309042" /></a><br />First off, rafting. I’ll cover kayaking in the next post.<br />I was reading in the paper the other day what a battle it is to keep kids fit and expand their interests beyond video games and sedentary pursuits. While I can’t speak for what other parents are doing, I can relate what my family has done to keep our child engaged in healthy outdoor activities (because I’m one of the owners of a rafting and kayaking store, I’ll stick to those activities. But we are also avid hikers and bikers). We’ve discovered that starting them young (before they can walk even !) was a key. Of course there are considerations that will make it enjoyable for the young ones, i.e, plenty of snacks and appropriate clothing, games to play etc. It’s not a good idea to start out on a 20 mile paddle in rough water either. Or a multi-day rafting trip. I remember when our daughter was two and a half we thought she was ready for a 4 day Rogue river trip. In the first Class 2 riffle she got splashed and said…”I want to go home !” . My heart dropped, but it only got better after that. <br /><br />Equipment keys: A <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=1_20">good lifevest</a> (yes, I know they will outgrow it very quickly, but you can always pass it on). I am amazed how some parents that come in the shop are reluctant to buy a comfortable and safe vest because “they just outgrow it”, yet they’ll buy the best vest for themselves and the family dog. Don’t wait until the morning of put-in to have your child wear the vest for the first time, only to have it turn into “I don’t wanna wear it!”. Avoid that battle by wearing them around the house…everyone, Mom, Dad, Siblings, the Dog. That way your child gets used to it. They associate the vest with something fun. And when they outgrow that vest, pass it on to another sibling, or friend. Or give it to a community group, or sailing club or a thrift shop. Someone else’s child will be safe on the water.<br /><br />Invest in good <a href="http://www.clavey.com/index.php?cPath=5_72">thermal clothing</a>, and splash gear. Admittedly, I have access to pretty good pricing for kids gear, but my daughters’ <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?cPath=5_141&products_id=717">Kokatat splash jacket</a> and pants have really made the difference. She also uses <a href="http://www.clavey.com/product_info.php?products_id=309">Mysterioso fleece</a> for layering. You can use also paddling clothing for skiing, cycling etc. <br /><br />What kind of trips can you start with ? Well, if you’re fortunate enough to have your own gear, there’s a variety of options for you. But I would start on something relatively easy, like a day trip with good access. You may be a solid Class 5 boater, but you’ll be amazed at how gripped you’ll get on Class 3 if your family is sitting in the boat. A day trip is good so your kids can get used to the rhythm of a river trip. A good friend of mine used to organize a get together on the Trinity river in N. California for river guides and their kids. It featured Class 2-3 water, car camping and general mayhem for kids and parents. If someone wanted to stay at camp, or make the day little shorter, it was no problem. Since then, we’ve graduated to longer trips. But the kids always look forward to seeing their river buddies every year. (drop us a line if you want the details on this run)<br /><br />That’s enough for now. But I’ll be sharing more rafting stuff later. I think I’ll post some stuff on kayaking next.<br />--JeffThe #1 Clavey Fanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463667840159917712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353413008458202137.post-52848480754594439022007-04-02T02:43:00.000-07:002007-05-02T11:51:40.490-07:00Green Wall Rapid on the Illinois RiverHere is a great video posted of Jeff Kellogg and Dan Thurber's run through Green Wall rapid on the Illinois river. The flow was around 1600 CFS, which is when the center hole gets sticky. Oh, by the way, Jeff says he did NOT hit the wall. Anyway, here it is:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ETy5WSfhLSI"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ETy5WSfhLSI" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />-Team ClaveyThe #1 Clavey Fanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463667840159917712noreply@blogger.com0