For the last month I've been working on an online magazine I've come to call "The Dirtbag's Guide to Whitewater." With the help of several contributors and lots of free time, I managed to pull it all together.  Truth be told, it's got be more nervous than most big rapids. Future issues will depend on reader's reception, so if you like it, let me know and a new issue will follow sometime near the end of May! Comments are welcome, as are emails to the address on my blogger profile. 

Big thanks to all the contributors,

we hope you enjoy!

Happy New Year!!!

In an interview with Jeff McIntyre of In Between Swims, Doug Ammons says "It's going to become perhaps more local, but there's an infinite number of other [first] descents."

Whether you're still figuring out your roll, running class 3 for the first time, or a seasoned paddler with a few of your own, you've probably at least heard the term First Descent. It's the subject of dreams for some, and a source of much contention on message boards and around campfires.

Simply defined for our purposes, a First Descent is a river or drop that no one has ever paddled before. I was one of those who dreamt (and still do) about paddling such a river, although now the dreams are of the next one.

These rivers are, by their very nature, mysterious. They add an expeditionary feel to the undertaking; little things like where to set safety and finding ways to scout become incredibly important. It's never easy to tell if you actually are the first paddler to slip between the gorge walls or emerge at the base of a waterfall unharmed. Many of the iconic pioneers of our sport made several first descents and never told a soul. Sometimes they ran all the rapids, sometimes they walked everything but the flat water. Some even did this solo.

So it's hard to say when attaching a name to this "First Descent" became important or what even qualifies as a true "Descent." Personally, if someone is going to claim a first descent, I'd like to see at least half of the runnable drops being run, but that's purely conjecture, and I encourage you to develop your own opinions. Ant this is the exact reason the "FD" words are such a hot term in the kayaking community. Everyone has their own opinions on what it means, and more importantly, there's always some old codger who is way better than we are that seems to know someone who did it before us. Well, almost always...

To me, a "First Descent" is actually pretty meaningless until you add another word to the phrase: Personal.

Frankly, I don't care if another person has paddled the river before me. The important thing is the experience I get from it and my personal interpretation of that. It seems foolish to get wrapped up on whether or not I was the first one to float down a stream in a big tub of plastic when someone probably took some boots, hammered some nails in the bottom of them, and stood on a log that they just cut down with an axe nearly a century ago as it floated down a river they were pretty sure ended up in town. Yeah, you want to talk about bad ass?

So we've got a new phrase: "Personal First Descent."

I like this quite a bit more for several reasons. 

First and most importantly, it's more accessible. Finding a river that nobody knows has been run is pretty hard. Finding one that actually hasn't been run is even more difficult. But finding a river you haven't run is probably a lot easier. In fact, there's probably one within an hours drive that you've never even heard of.

Secondly, all the conjecture and uncertainty is dispelled. No one can accuse you of false claims or say that you actually already did do that run. Besides, what difference does it make to them? I mean, really.

Another reason Personal First Descents are great is that they can be done with as much or as little beta as you want. For paddlers trying to get a taste of expeditionary paddling, they can drop in relatively blind with just a glance at a topo map; paddlers just looking for a change of scenery can talk to friends or read trip reports.

And finally, a Personal First Descent can still be a first descent. The best part of a pfd is creating your own definition of success.

All of this builds towards the newest facet of my paddling obsession; exploring locally. Even before I began paddling, I found a deep joy and sense of presence in hiking up streambeds. As I began paddling more, these excursions developed a duality. While I still enjoyed the aesthetic value of the rapids and waterfalls I discovered, I also began noting which spots looked like they would be survivable in a kayak.

And so began a long-held tradition. I would walk up an obscure riverbed, sometimes taking photos, and store some of what I saw in the back of my mind. I'd do a little research or ask around and drop my jaw when people told me they had run this section or that. Some of them seemed impossible, if not because the whitewater was too difficult, then because it never seemed there would be enough water.

Then again, I had seen them in the spring when the ground was shaking as tons of water cascaded downhill. Maybe it was possible after all...

Or maybe the rivers seemed too far off, encased in a roadless valley somewhere far from civilization. Boats are heavy, who would want to carry them 12 miles into the mountains? Oh, right...I would.

Scott Martin and I spent some time in Northern PA last weekend specifically to find some PFDs. They may not all be unrun, but there are definitely some good ones. And they're all PFD's too.

We checked out most of the tributaries to Rock Run, a local classic that I have yet to do. Scott seems to be the Rock Run liaison for those of us to the North, so if there's water, he'd be a good guy to contact.

The plus side to scouting the tributaries here is the gorgeous scenery, which has led several publications refer to it as "The Prettiest Stream in Pennsylvania."

It's amazing what you can find in your own back yard. A friend of mine put together this short video full of rivers we believe hadn't been paddled before. Best of all, they were all within about an hour from my house. Of course, if they have been paddled, I'd love to swap stories about our experiences.

So here's to first descents, personal or otherwise...

Now get out there and explore your backyard!

The summer season is closing out. No more Black River rafting or shirtless laps on the Bottom Moose...

It was a great season, and I've learned a lot from it. I started the season off with a week and a half of some of the best boating I've ever done. It was right in my backyard too. The now annual Spring-Moosefest provided a great kickoff; including an R2 descent of the Alpine Line on Crystal, my personal first descent of the Alpine Line in a kayak, and a rescue on the hard-to-catch Mill Creek that resulted in an unnecessary 911 call. 

After a day of rest, I jumped straight into a week-long kayaking extravaganza. Joining me were such esteemed figures as Scott Martin, Thayer Walker, Alan Panebaker, Uncle Jim, and Will (Papa C) Crimmins. These guys have some of the best attitudes in whitewater, and paddling with them will make for a great day no matter what the conditions. 

I managed to catch Woodhull Creek, Fish Creek, Otter Creek, the Independence River, the Middle Branch of the Oswegatchie River, and the Black River over the next 6 days with some combination of the culprits mentioned above. After another day of rest I showed Cory Haas down the Indy. This was maybe his 5th day on the water, and he ran EVERYTHING. I guess he must have had a great instructor...

A few days later and 4 wisdom teeth less, I began my road trip to Portland, OR. My father and I spent 27 hours in my 2 door Hyundai Accent with no air conditioning and a muffler that didn't do it's job. It was a fun trip. After a brief layover in Murdo, SD (population 60, no joke) we made our way to Missoula, MT for a night out on the town courtesy of Doug Ammons. The next day was spent reuniting with long-time-best-friend Ian Jirasko, and driving to the town near Palouse Falls. That's a big one...

Moving into Portland, I felt like I was in a bigger Burlington, but without friends or any idea where to go. Homesickness was definitely a bigger problem than expected, but after a week or two, I got into the swing of things and started to have a great time in the City of Roses.

Memorable runs included the Orletta section of the White Salmon, SUPing the Lower Clackamas, the Lower Wind, the Wenatchee Play Run, walking off Icicle Creek, the North Fork Skykomish with another East Coast transplant, multiple Hanford trips, and the infamous Green Truss section of the White Salmon.

The paddling scene in the PNW is just incredible. There are so many paddlers and rivers there, it would be easy to spend the rest of your life and never paddle the same run. The people are great, and the whitewater is challenging. Do yourself a favor and get out there. I hear eNRG Kayaking knows what's up...

After countless memories had been made, it was time to make my sad farewell. Thank you so much to Sam Drevo, Niko Peha, Michael Gordon, Ben Small, Cat Loke, Laura Taylor, and everyone else that made my time in Portland so great!

On the way home my dad and sister wanted to do something fun. I told them to go jump off a bridge...
After that, driving was a little boring. We made a 33 hour push from best-friend Ian's in Western Montana all the way to Cedar Point, Ohio. It was good to be out of the car.

Since I've been home, I've playboated a bunch, developed a staph infection, missed out on the 4 hours of creeking that is the Moshier release, spent multiple days in the hospital fighting said infection, and gone to class.

Finally, I wrapped up the summer season very much the same way I started it. Boating on new runs with good friends.

I rallied down to Gauleyfest in Summersville, WV with Scott Martin with plans on meetng up with Papa C and Sam Drevo. A night spent in one of the worst rainstorms I've ever experienced and several hours waiting at the put-in for the Upper Yough had me worried that I should have stuck to going to class. Once on the river that all changed though. Despite locals claiming the water was too high; Scott, Sam, and Eli all fired it up in their playboats, and I paddled Scott's Detox...which lets face it, is a playboat. A quick drive down to Summersville revealed slightly warmer temperatures, but the gracious invitation to sleep in the hotel with Mr. Yakima was much appreciated.

A mellow but fun day on the Lower Gauley while Scott shot the Girls at Play was a nice warm up for the Upper the next day. The Upper Gauley is a great run and sees so much traffic from commercial rafting and unprepared private boaters that it's difficulties and dangers get talked up a lot. If you're comfortable on big water and use a bit of common sense, you'll be fine on the Upper Gauley.

Coming into Pillow Rock on the UG. Note the crowds on river left and right, this is about half the people that were there watching. Also note Sam Drevo backlooping out of the Room of Doom

All in all, it was a great summer season. One worth celebrating, for sure. For now it's time to dig out those extra fleece layers and find the drytops. It's getting cold here in the North, the leaves are starting to change, and that means the fall rains are coming to pump up the Adirondack Classics.