Showing posts with label Sahalie Falls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sahalie Falls. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Bigger things to come...
I've been pretty busy ghostwriting, instructing, and yard working for the last little bit. So instead of writing silly blogposts and assembling magazines about kayaking in my free time, I've actually been kayaking. It's a tough world, man...
The last few months have been a blur of new friends, new rivers, and a lot of work. It's been very rewarding, but not without its fair share of frustrations. It's hard to teach intro classes on Class II when the gnar is running. It's also hard to constantly be surrounded by elite paddlers that think nothing of multiple laps on the Little White Salmon (LDUB) and multi-day first descents. It sorta puts you in your place and makes you feel like maybe you're not as cool as you think you are...
But feelings like that, when handled correctly, can inspire growth. They set the standards just a little higher. And when you make friends with a similar drive, great things can be accomplished.
This:
Becomes this:
With the right people, those challenges that seem so frustrating become something to laugh about.
So I made the most of my time on the mellow rivers. I taught, learned to teach, and just learned more about kayaking. We created EDDY, SUPed, and watched the pros race down Canyon Creek.
Of all of the above, EDDY has been the most influential in my skill development. "Beaverator Kid, please bestow upon me the wisdom of this great and powerful creation," you say. And truly, the information is too important to be kept a secret.
EDDY is a game. A game not unlike HORSE or PIG as played in basketball, but applied to the river, and, specifically catching eddies.
EDDY
Suitable for 2+ players, ages 0-160+
Objective: Create a line through a rapid that ends in an eddy that is difficult or impossible for the other player(s) to repeat. For each line missed, paddlers progressively receive the letters E-D-D-Y. Players alternate turns creating lines. End the game with as few letters as possible.
The Rules:
All the challenges and small frustrations were washed away as I drifted in the twilit flatwater at the end of the Little White. Truly it seemed that though "nothing was different, everything had changed." My perceived lack of progress was really only a product of my ever raising standards set by the elite paddlers around me. The feelings of stagnation were indicative of expansive growth. And for that, I have my great friends to thank.
The next few weeks are sure to hold more growth with bigger things to come. Until then, here are some of my favorite shots from my time out here so far.
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| Especially in places like this... Sahalie Falls, McKenzie River, OR Sam Drevo Photo |
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| Those feelings are enhanced when you find yourself in situations like this... Canyon Creek, WA |
This:
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| Kate Daniel gettin' stylie on the Lower Clack |
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| Kate, equally stylie in downtown Portland on a SUPer moon adventure |
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| Like a waterfall that you just aren't nailing the boof on like you want to. |
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| Or taking those blind strokes off the lip for your first time (Gus is killing it, btw) |
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| Harrison Rea about to boof the rainbow... Canyon Creek, WA |
EDDY is a game. A game not unlike HORSE or PIG as played in basketball, but applied to the river, and, specifically catching eddies.
EDDY
Suitable for 2+ players, ages 0-160+
Objective: Create a line through a rapid that ends in an eddy that is difficult or impossible for the other player(s) to repeat. For each line missed, paddlers progressively receive the letters E-D-D-Y. Players alternate turns creating lines. End the game with as few letters as possible.
The Rules:
- The player creating the line must broadcast his/her intentions. If they don't hit the line they said they would, they get a letter.
- The following player must catch the same eddies and use the same features as the creator, unless otherwise specified. If they do not succeed, they get a letter and must catch the next eddy possible.
- Players may not return to an eddy previously used, unless it is part of the specified line.
- Surfing waves, holes, hitting boofs, and cross bow strokes qualify as part of "the line" created.
- If a horizon prevents a significant line from being created, the creator may create half of their line and commit to the second half after the follower(s) have caught the staging eddy.
- Rules are meant to be broken. Adapt this game to the river and your needs, but stay safe, have fun, and enjoy the challenges set.
So there you have it, young grasshopper, the game of eddy, and the key to me surviving this:
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| The LDUB aka The Little White Salmon aka The GNAR |
The Little White Salmon pretty much deserves every bit of its reputation. It's a nonstop tumult of whitewater pouring down the side of a mountain, with crystal clear water, and some of the best rapids in the world. It is difficult.
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| This is about as mellow as it ever gets. |
There are a lot of places you don't want to be.
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| Like here... a little far right on Boulder Sluice. |
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| or here... a little coser to the meat of Wishbone than I had hoped. |
There are some really big holes and a handful of pretty stout drops.
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| like the sweet boof at the top of S-Turn |
It is incredibly gorgeous.
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| A pretty classic move in Gettin' Busy... ride the pillow, take a boof, repeat. Whitewater as far as the eye can see... |
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| Cheap thrills... Kate Daniel Photo |
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| Thuggin' with the ACA Pacific Northwest Collegiate Trophy Ben Small Photo |
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| Pretty much the coolest photo of feet I've ever seen Kate Daniel Photo |
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| An intimidating line on the Little White, Stovepipe |
Until next time...
Labels:
2012,
Canyon Creek,
dirtbag's guide,
Falls,
Hiking,
Kayaking,
Little White,
Little White Salmon,
Oregon,
paddle,
PNW,
Sahalie Falls,
Strainers,
Summer,
SUP,
Washington,
waterfall,
West,
West Coast,
Whitewater
|
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Monday, March 5, 2012
Manifest Destiny
I've been fascinated by the west and the west coast for as long as I can remember. Last summer, I was inspired to take my own odyssey to work at eNRG Kayaking in Portland, Oregon. I had no plans beyond having a sweet job kayaking... no idea where I'd stay, or what to expect, but I had a tent and a lot of optimism.
I was fortunate enough to develop a great relationship with owner Sam Drevo right off the bat, and ended up crashing in his office for most of the summer. The other instructors turned out to be awesome as well, and at the end of the summer I was pretty bummed to be leaving.
It should come as no surprise then, that I've returned to the place that sometimes feels more like home than the area I grew up in. But first... an account of my final days in the North-East...
Really, it's been an awful winter, at least in terms of facilitating high activity levels and overall enjoyment. It didn't snow. Temperatures jumped from 50 degrees to -10 overnight. I was working 50 hours a week more often than not, just trying to make enough to pay for rent. The only good part about the weather was that I didn't feel like I was missing out on epic powder days all the time.
And then the northeast heard I was leaving.
Jay Peak got slammed with 2 feet of snow overnight, and I just happened to have a pass that weekend (Thanks for ditching me Cory).
But the thing about Jay Peak getting 2 feet of snow is that surrounding areas usually get at least some of that snow too, and my car was not making it up the access road on the spare. Fortunately, Kay offered to drive her car (affectionately known as Henry). Unfortunately, Henry uses all seasons, which is kind of like using flip-flops for an arctic multi-day expedition.
After an uneventful drive to Montgomery, things got a little steep, and Kay's car started getting less affectionately known as "The giant pile of german shit" as Subaru after Subaru swerved around the struggling vehicle. At the top of the first hill, Kay relinquished her seat as pilot willingly, while I slid in behind the wheel muttering about women drivers, gingers, and flatlanders.
While driving myself was less terrifying because I could at least feel responsible for my untimely death, I regretted getting behind the wheel immediately. I was as gripped then as I ever have been while kayaking. Maybe not as bad as SUPing, but definitely close. There was absolutely no traction, and bright lights kept popping up on the dash while the tires spun and the windshield fogged over from the heat of the engine. It seemed to take forever to reach the top of each hill, until finally, we made it past the last big one and just had a valley to cross before the home-stretch.
Oh yeah, that "valley" happens to be more of a ravine.
I would let off the brakes long enough to reach 4 mph and then lightly tap them, and then slide for another 5 feet. So really, I got to go snowboarding before I even put the snowboard on my feet. Henry likes to shred too.
When we finally made it to the mountain, it was all worth it. There were times when I'd step out of my bindings in the woods because it was too deep to move and sink down to my chest. And it kept dumping all day. We didn't take many photos that day, but I did hook it up with the Gopro as you should have seen above...
On the way back, Desi drove, smack talking the road and only slipping off once. Which was rather remarkable since we had to take the back way home. And they don't make roads very straight in VT. It took us over 3 hours to make the normally 1.5 hour drive because some frenchy(canadian) bus driver decided to rally and park it sideways across the road.
The next day, Matt Ide, Taylor Krammen, and I rallied up (on bare roads) to Bolton Valley for some great blue-bird powder. Definitely in the top 5 days of resort skiing.
Monday, I headed home. Tuesday, I unpacked and repacked. And Wednesday I was Portland bound.
It was to be my first time flying alone, and it was going to be flawless. After we got my bag checked, I said goodbye to the parental unit (dad), and headed through TSA without a problem. The first flight went well, no turbulence and a cool climber to talk to on my way to O'hare.
At the end of my layover, while waiting at the correct gate, the passengers from the previous flight unloaded. The ticket-checker announced that we didn't have a pilot.
I thought they were joking. They were not.
Almost 2 hours later, I finally reached an agent at the customer service desk and sorted things out. They booked me a room at The Hilton, conveniently attached to the airport, and flew me out at 5AM the next day. To Denver.
As excited as I was to visit the mile high city, I didn't appreciate the time of day I arrived there, or the fact that I had flown a few hundred miles out of my way to visit. After a brief layover there, I hopped aboard my connection flight only to be surrounded by 2 rather large men who didn't seem to be interested in making conversation.
At least I didn't have to drive.
A few hours after I arrived in Portland, I was introduced to Erik Boomer just before he presented a slideshow of his Arctic Epic, a circumnavigation of Ellesmere Island. The dude's one of the adventurers of the year... no biggie.
The next day, Sam and I rallied to Sahalie Falls with a few others to set safety and potentially run the 78-footer. Boomer ended up being the only one to drop it, and Sam provided the perfect toss to keep him from swimming the gnarly rapid just below. Forge Motion Pictures was there filming with their RED Epics, a camera worth more than my debt from school. It was a good first full day in Oregon.
Saturday and Sunday were quickly consumed by the ENRG Guide Training program, which I co-led with Sam and a few bros from last summer. A SUP on the Lower Clackamas provided entertainment for all, and the next day marked my first day kayaking on a river in 2012 with a double header from Revenue Bridge to Dodge Park on the Sandy and a quick lap on Bull Run. Plus I got to train with the PMI Reach System, which pretty much everyone needs to check out.
Full days with bigger plans each day... It's gonna be a good one!
I was fortunate enough to develop a great relationship with owner Sam Drevo right off the bat, and ended up crashing in his office for most of the summer. The other instructors turned out to be awesome as well, and at the end of the summer I was pretty bummed to be leaving.
It should come as no surprise then, that I've returned to the place that sometimes feels more like home than the area I grew up in. But first... an account of my final days in the North-East...
Really, it's been an awful winter, at least in terms of facilitating high activity levels and overall enjoyment. It didn't snow. Temperatures jumped from 50 degrees to -10 overnight. I was working 50 hours a week more often than not, just trying to make enough to pay for rent. The only good part about the weather was that I didn't feel like I was missing out on epic powder days all the time.
And then the northeast heard I was leaving.
Jay Peak got slammed with 2 feet of snow overnight, and I just happened to have a pass that weekend (Thanks for ditching me Cory).
But the thing about Jay Peak getting 2 feet of snow is that surrounding areas usually get at least some of that snow too, and my car was not making it up the access road on the spare. Fortunately, Kay offered to drive her car (affectionately known as Henry). Unfortunately, Henry uses all seasons, which is kind of like using flip-flops for an arctic multi-day expedition.
After an uneventful drive to Montgomery, things got a little steep, and Kay's car started getting less affectionately known as "The giant pile of german shit" as Subaru after Subaru swerved around the struggling vehicle. At the top of the first hill, Kay relinquished her seat as pilot willingly, while I slid in behind the wheel muttering about women drivers, gingers, and flatlanders.
While driving myself was less terrifying because I could at least feel responsible for my untimely death, I regretted getting behind the wheel immediately. I was as gripped then as I ever have been while kayaking. Maybe not as bad as SUPing, but definitely close. There was absolutely no traction, and bright lights kept popping up on the dash while the tires spun and the windshield fogged over from the heat of the engine. It seemed to take forever to reach the top of each hill, until finally, we made it past the last big one and just had a valley to cross before the home-stretch.
Oh yeah, that "valley" happens to be more of a ravine.
 |
| Like this, but going the other way. And steeper, definitely steeper... |
When we finally made it to the mountain, it was all worth it. There were times when I'd step out of my bindings in the woods because it was too deep to move and sink down to my chest. And it kept dumping all day. We didn't take many photos that day, but I did hook it up with the Gopro as you should have seen above...
On the way back, Desi drove, smack talking the road and only slipping off once. Which was rather remarkable since we had to take the back way home. And they don't make roads very straight in VT. It took us over 3 hours to make the normally 1.5 hour drive because some frenchy(canadian) bus driver decided to rally and park it sideways across the road.
The next day, Matt Ide, Taylor Krammen, and I rallied up (on bare roads) to Bolton Valley for some great blue-bird powder. Definitely in the top 5 days of resort skiing.
Monday, I headed home. Tuesday, I unpacked and repacked. And Wednesday I was Portland bound.
It was to be my first time flying alone, and it was going to be flawless. After we got my bag checked, I said goodbye to the parental unit (dad), and headed through TSA without a problem. The first flight went well, no turbulence and a cool climber to talk to on my way to O'hare.
At the end of my layover, while waiting at the correct gate, the passengers from the previous flight unloaded. The ticket-checker announced that we didn't have a pilot.
I thought they were joking. They were not.
Almost 2 hours later, I finally reached an agent at the customer service desk and sorted things out. They booked me a room at The Hilton, conveniently attached to the airport, and flew me out at 5AM the next day. To Denver.
As excited as I was to visit the mile high city, I didn't appreciate the time of day I arrived there, or the fact that I had flown a few hundred miles out of my way to visit. After a brief layover there, I hopped aboard my connection flight only to be surrounded by 2 rather large men who didn't seem to be interested in making conversation.
At least I didn't have to drive.
A few hours after I arrived in Portland, I was introduced to Erik Boomer just before he presented a slideshow of his Arctic Epic, a circumnavigation of Ellesmere Island. The dude's one of the adventurers of the year... no biggie.
The next day, Sam and I rallied to Sahalie Falls with a few others to set safety and potentially run the 78-footer. Boomer ended up being the only one to drop it, and Sam provided the perfect toss to keep him from swimming the gnarly rapid just below. Forge Motion Pictures was there filming with their RED Epics, a camera worth more than my debt from school. It was a good first full day in Oregon.
Saturday and Sunday were quickly consumed by the ENRG Guide Training program, which I co-led with Sam and a few bros from last summer. A SUP on the Lower Clackamas provided entertainment for all, and the next day marked my first day kayaking on a river in 2012 with a double header from Revenue Bridge to Dodge Park on the Sandy and a quick lap on Bull Run. Plus I got to train with the PMI Reach System, which pretty much everyone needs to check out.
Full days with bigger plans each day... It's gonna be a good one!
Labels:
2012,
Bolton Valley,
ENRG,
Jay Peak,
Kayaking,
Oregon,
Sahalie Falls,
snowboarding,
SUP,
West Coast,
Whitewater
|
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About Me
- Eric
- I am a freelance writer and photographer, collector of experiences, adventure lover, and outdoor goer.
