Behind The Times

Cali Descending

To avoid continuing this blog's reputation as the update-less "Same Old S**t", here are a few photos of some kayaking.

It's hard to call the first mile or two of Royal Gorge wilderness, with the "No Trespassing" signs on trees in the water and spread liberally every few hundred feet. Trees clearly below the high water line were plastered with the signs, making most any scout a touchy, though entirely legal affair. Pressure from land owners has lessened in the past couple years(one even waved and smiled at us on the way in), but it still seems like they don't want anybody else in there. 

Of course we can respect that. Just scout, portage, and keep the 'booyas' and chest bumping to a minimum, or at least quiet. 

Devin Knight minimizing his impact. 

Darin McQuoid follows suit, but can't resist a nearly catastrophic 'holla' downstream. 

One catastrophe averted, another close at hand. 

Darin hit the pool, separated from his helmet due to buckle breakage, and fought to get out of the river left cave/eddy. It must have been pretty disconcerting to resurface without a helmet, on the opposite side of the river from where we were expecting and in a giant dark cave. He battled in there and stayed as composed as anyone in that situation could be, waiting for a rope, its reassuring tightening, and eventual emancipating upward pull. 

Hypothermic, shaken, and shaking, I'm sure Darin came into the light with new perspective on risk and reward. Sometimes the highest rewards are not only because of a fun or interesting line, but because of the menacing consequences that await a missed line or unlucky surge in the current. The river occasionally, but physics really, makes us all its bitches. 

Darin seemed to have the same line as me off the falls, but must have caught an underwater surge to the other side of the river, ending in a cold, exposed hour instead of a boof out into the sunlight. You just never know. 

I love a lot of things about the river and wilderness, but it does show tough love sometimes. 

Morning is when I like the wilderness most, empty and echoing, like a half-world, light filtering in through the trees. The fire from the night before smoldering with the nights dew. 

That morning at Heath was a little ominous, light breaking out minute by minute, bright splashes on the mountainside and treetops, barely rising enough to reach into the gorge. Pink clouds streaking the sky downstream. 

I woke early, knowing I was going into the rest of Heath gorge alone. Pine needles and oak leaves blew along the bedrock in front of me on my way to the ravine access. Birds were going like mad in the trees along the rim as I climbed down to the river. 

Paddling down the gorge, really just being there, gave me an almost historical feeling, like I was looking back at myself, as if that morning had already happened. My heart was beating like crazy and my stomach felt queasy with excitement. 

I know that gorge has been paddled many times, probably many times solo as well, but it still makes for an exciting and involved short paddle out to sunlight. 

The gorge was filled with darkness. I sat at the top for a few minutes, imagining the passing life and the place left to itself, aware of the particular earthy smell, mossy rocks and trees, the horizon line and soaring gorge walls. 

I portaged the crux left-to-right move in the gorge, surprised at how easy it was, then dropped down through one of the most dramatic places I can imagine. 

Below the crux, in the first sun of the day. 

We finished out the day on Royal and made it somewhere down in Generation Gap, if that's the one that comes first. 

Another reminder of the random power of water came for me at Rattlesnake falls. I landed center-right and was surfed under the falls, upright, way over to the left side and spit out into the eddy. Luckily, it's an easy one to decamp. 

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Next up, the elusive Yuba Gap.
I don't even know where to begin about Yuba Gap. I just want to go back. It's like Fantasy Falls, but one day, smaller river, no big portages and tons of good rapids. 

Okay, actually it's hardly like Fantasy, but go there and experience this rugged gem some time in the next five years if there are ever predictable releases again.  

Taylor Cavin, above and below. 

Darin finishing an early portage. 

Emerald waters, easy access, and amazing whitewater slide Yuba Gap right up to my 'Best Day Run' distinction. 

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Belo No Mo'

I'll repeat what plenty of people have been saying for a while now: props to Tyler Bradt.
I doubt I need to repeat the details of his amazing accomplishment, so I'll just leave it at that and thank him for quieting all the skepticism about Pedro Oliva's 'record-breaking' descent of Salto Belo in Brazil.
All question and concern over whether Pedro's performance on Belo carries the world record can be lowered, but hopefully not forgotten. Both were incredible kayaking feats and neither should be brushed off as a 'stunt' or poor representation of kayaking to the wider world. At least neither kayaker spouted off about wanting to "see all you guys in Heaven," thank god. Though Pedro did follow Jaime Pierre's lawn dart approach for landing his big freefall, his motivations were far from the Heavenly realm.
Both are, I'm sure, proud of what they have done and want their actions to represent them and kayaking in a progressive light. If anything, their actions are inspiring to many and big steps in the movement of a new understanding of whitewater and confidence towards big drops.

We're just catching up to skiing and other 'xtreme' sports, right? Hopefully nobody will soon follow with an accidental descent of a new world record waterfall, like skiing's Fred Syverson did off a 107 meter cliff.
However delayed, after Bradt's day at Palouse took the wind from my blogging sails, I will try to clear up a few things about Oliva's day at Belo.
Among the questions of whether or not he stayed in his boat at the bottom, there might be a few other questions, like what did he think about the possible consequences or what about other waterfall experience he had.
Oh, you don't really care about that? Just want to know what happened at the bottom? All the excitement about this has passed?
Well, he stayed in his boat. That's all I could tell happened. He walked out a minute later, slightly shaken, but mostly on top of things and wanting me to go to the top to run the thing too.
Right, Pedro. Not to say that his line was uninspiring...

So, back to Cali, where spring is in full swing and the sun and snow are adding up to some nice days on the river.



Watch out for bro's in bunny suits.


When you do eventually make it to the river, boof and be happy.
Dave Fusilli and Jared Seiler demonstrate.



Jeremy Laucks enjoying his first days in California.


I took this picture of Jared running triple drop. It's bad cause I was scared and watching him and not the camera.


Dave Fusilli took this picture and was not scared.

Somewhere down there was the most absurdly violent piton I have ever experienced and the real reason I was scared. It looked a lot like this:

Jeremy Laucks Photo

Can I please just plug Jackson Kayak here? I think I would be in much worse shape were it not for the Uni-shock bulkhead system in my boat. Uni-shock bulkhead=fancy name for the ankle-saving rope, cleat, and foam system that sits in the front of each JK creek boat. So soft it hardly bruised my ego.

Next day or so, Fusilli checks out what we portage on the South Branch to get to the nice whitewater downstream.

It doesn't go, to all you prospective huckers.

The South Branch keeps it real below the Seven Falls, with plenty of good boofs and rapids all the way to the takeout.
Fusilli cools down on the first of many after the long portage.

Jared Seiler.

Jake on the second tier. The nice thing about white boats is that you can't see them in pictures.

Jared dropping over the third tier.

Jake stroking into the nasty looking bottom hole.

Jared making good time through the splashy lead-in.

And boofing against all odds.

Fusilli too.

Nicole Mansfield airing it out.

It's a lot less intimidating when you can pretty much walk down the drop. Not to say that this isn't high quality, there's just nothing better than summertime in Cali. That's all.

The unclean one. The rapid, not Jared.

Thanks LiquidLogic, for making photography fun again. Jake near the end of the run.

The South Branch is one of my favorite runs in the world and one of the most beautiful places I have been. Right up there in the top five in both lists.
Good enough to go back again at lower water and enjoy another day in the sun.

Darin making the most of our last trip on the SB with a nice run of "99 Problems".

Shon Bollock follows in good form.

Ryan Knight too!

Devin Knight stoked on another sunny day paddling in California. It doesn't get much better.

Brazil: At The End Of The Day

Well let's just get right down to it. I've been trying to avoid this subject as much possible. I've been asked, prodded, interrogated, about what really happened March 4th on the Rio Sacre behind Salto Belo. 

So what really happened, right? 

First, let me tactfully distract you with a few photos from the rest of the trip while I conjure up some grossly exaggerated story about that day. 

I know I usually just look at pictures anyway, so look at these. I won't even bother you by writing anything about them. 

Well here we are at Salto Belo and looks like I'll have to put off the report until next time. 

Turn Around

To recap:

We woke up late, enjoyed Carnaval, went to bed early, repeated, jumped off a tall waterfall, made friends, watched Rafa run Anaconda, drove, dropped Jesse and Rafa at the bus station, drove, continued driving, and eventually went kayaking.

 

To continue:

With our single CD continuing on repeat anytime the car was on, there are a few lines that are sticking with me, which is surprising, considering how often and how much important information slips through my fragile memory. 

Another piece of gold from our single mix CD: "More than a hustla, I'm the definition of it, master chef, Lord of the kitchen cupboard, more than a street legend, homey it's Hova." 

Hova: short for Jehovah, Jay-Z, or any other non-deity you can imagine rhyming these lines with the lyrical swagger that possibly only self-proclaiming saviors possess. 

So you're here to save the world? What do you say to something like that?

Maybe you don't subscribe to something holy like that mentioned above and find more in exploration and the cyclical nature of things, to be as vague as possible. 

I like what T.S. Eliot had to say: 

“We shall not cease from exploration/and the end of all our exploring/ will be to arrive where we started/and know the place for the first time.”

So there we were, driving across the plains of central Brazil, feeling a bit less like explorers of the wild than soy fanatics on tour when we stopped at a small towns prefetura to ask for directions. They turned us towards a few waterfalls and even provided locals to call to help us find our way. 

Soy lovers rejoice, but bring a local to lead you through the maze. This could have been the fourth time at this spot, but may as well have been the first as far as we could tell. 

Everyone deserves a gimme every once in a while, right?  

Ben, two steps from the driver's seat, measures the falls. 

I don't use 'perfect' to describe Ben's line down this falls casually. As good as it gets.

I don't use 'missed' lightly either. 

Sometimes sun, warm water, and a light breeze can make you do silly things. 

Ben, excited after the prefect line and to hear the cheers from downstream.

The impoverished, impishly cute children are just out of frame.

The beautiful Cachoeira Abobada. 

Finding the falls way too tall to paddle, but wanting to milk as much as possible after a short hike I tried swimming all the way out to it. About halfway there I heard yelling and looked at the beach to see the local guides frantically waving me back. 

Safe back on the beach after being warned of the 6 meter sucari, or anaconda, in the pool. 

Hm, I think we've been here before...

Hotel Charley 4 Tour

It's so good! Come check it out at one of the premieres! 

Includes unseen first descents in California, the most complete descent of the Indus River through the Rondu Gorge, and the search for the biggest runnable waterfalls on the planet in Central Brazil. Just the new world record waterfall descent(127 ft) should be enough to make you want to come see! 

APRIL 2009
WORLD PREMIERE: Saturday, April 18, 2009 - Hood River, OR: The Shed & The River City Saloon
Thursday, April 23, 2009 - Boise, ID: Alpenglowidaho

Saturday, April 25, 2009 - Billings MT: Montana Brewing: Hooligans Restaurant

MAY 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009 - Bellingham, WA: Bellingham Whitewater 
Saturday, May 02, 2009 - Portland, OR: Alder Creek 

Wednesday, May 06, 2009 - Mt, Shasta, CA: Shasta Base Camp 

Friday, May 08, 2009 - Reno, NV: Reno River Festival

Tuesday, May 12, 2009 - Salt Lake City, UT: Wasatch Mountain Touring

Thursday, May 14, 2009 - Gunnison, CO: Gunnison Paddle Club

Friday, May 15, 2009 - Telluride, CO: Jagged Edge 

Saturday, May 16, 2009 - Durango, CO: Four Corners Riversports

Monday, May 18, 2009 - Edwards/Vail, CO: Alpine Quest Sports 

Tuesday, May 19, 2009 - Winter Park, CO: Rocky Mountain Adventures 

Wednesday, May 20, 2009 - Denver, CO: Confluence Kayaks 

Thursday, May 21, 2009 - Ft Collins, CO: Rocky Mountain Adventures

Saturday, May 23, 2009 - Buena Vista, CO: Paddlefest CKS / Mountain Film 

Friday, May 29, 2009 - Jackson Hole, WY: Aaron Pruzan.

Brazil: Part 2, and Some of 3

On wearing pants in the jungle:

Day 4 after the bite, when things were actually getting better. 

The cause of that grotesque swelling. For scale, see below.

Consider: this spider is probably bigger than your hand, unless your name is Yao Ming.

There are a few things you can do while recovering from the bite of an 'aranha marrom', like swallow unlabeled 'antibioticos' and antihistamines while lounging by the pool. 

Other activities to speed the recovery process:

1. Jump waterfalls with too little water for kayaking.

2. Make new friends at Carnaval, while not drinking, dancing, or wearing a helmet.

3. Actually go kayaking. 

4. Get drunkenly escorted to propose to a women neither party knows.

"Notha beer? Cigarette? Wanna see a magic?"

We left the beer soaked, samba-trampled streets of Pirenopolis in search of greater kayaking opportunities and the furious rainstorms we knew were in the south. 

Most noteworthy of happenings on our southern sojourn was Rafa Ortiz's successful descent of the known-to-blow-skirts Anaconda Falls. He rode the dragon's back right down the guts, got swallowed almost immediately by the falls, disappearing about 15 feet down, and emerged from the mist and massive boil a few seconds later. 

Anaconda, sans kayaker. One of my favorite new things is looking away just before a kayaker goes over a big waterfall. You should try it.