The river peaked while we were running it on this day, putting our flows in the mid-to-high 300's -- definitely the high side of high. Too high, in many respects. Eddies were tiny, rare, and often guarded by tree branches in the water. With a group of six, balancing spacing and communication was a constant challenge.
There was plenty of amazing continuous Class IV from the put-in down through a mandatory portage or two and some challenging log sneaks. Wood was a constant threat, but the number and quality of juicy boofs was well worth the constant vigilance.
There is a nasty sticky ledge that comes up quite fast in the upper gorge that has been a common problem spot in the past, and this day was no exception. First, Tango Charlie took it to the mat and pulled himself out of the hole using some logs on the right bank. GRRRRR says the honey badger! Moments later, Diesel dropped in for a short and terminal ride to the deepest part of the pit, and was roped out while still in his boat. That Jimi Stik that floated off will turn up someday, we hope.
With our delayed progress through the upper gorge, the rising water was catching up with us, and things went very quickly down to the "15-footer" above the unrunnable big falls. (Oregon Kayaking's NF Clack description calls this drop "Speed Bump", and says it's ten feet.) Too quickly, really...
Speed Bump seemed closer to 20 feet on this day, especially when routing into it unawares. Due to the high flows, our probe service was quite loose. It's quite an unnerving sensation to be jamming down a long and fast Class IV boulder garden and realize that it is routing right off the lip of a flooded-out waterfall. A variety of blind lines were had, with the key commonality that the paddler went extremely deep and ended up on the left at the bottom, somehow clear of the maw and upright.
Looking back at this drop from below revealed that a forearm-thick tree branch was protruding from the right bank into the center of the flow. With the volume of water going over the falls on this day, it would only have been in play for someone going over the far right.
Without taking the time to frame the shot without foliage, I snapped a quick photo to document just how juicy Speed Bump was before we got to work on portaging the big one:
Two of our group were lucky and/or smart enough to stop well above this drop and use the nice-and-easy fire road portage that ends at Stairway to Heaven.
Those of us that found ourselves below the fifteen footer were faced with a much tougher (but shorter) portage. (It's a damned good thing that Palmire gave Tendercheeks the beta about the portage route before our run.) In exchange, we got to see more of the river, including a good look at the rapid leading in to the lip of the big one. The last time I was in this spot was on a low-side-of-low spring day a few years ago, and I remember the lead-in as a series of relatively glassy pools divided by dry bedrock and twinkling in the sun. Not so on this day:
If a paddler were to swim out of the fifteen footer and fail to get to shore before entering the section depicted above, they would have a good chance of finding themselves dropping over the big no-no horizon line at the top left of this photo:
Such a swimmer would face death or dismemberment at the hands of the rockpile at the base of the big falls that are always portaged. Our portage on this day consisted of a steep scramble 50 feet up the left bank, roping boats up behind us, followed by a reasonable but steep traverse to the top of a steep ravine that heads down to the river.
The ravine back down to the river has a conveniently fallen tree whose rootwad marks the top of our route down, and also provides a handy anchor for the couple hundred feet of nylon rope someone has left in place. The lowering of boats and selves was plenty strenuous, but this route would simply not be possible without a rope. The entire ravine is an active erosion zone, made all the more active by four paddlers and kayaks making their way down.
Here you can see one of our group getting ready to launch from the base of the ravine we came down:
The paddler launching in the photo above is in the mist zone from the big drop, and is getting hammered with 20-mile-an-hour winds comprised of 50% water spraying from the base of this monster. When I was launching, I was sponging out my boat before ferrying across to take a couple of photos, and realized at one point that the spray was so heavy that I would need to just call it good enough and get somewhere drier to finish the job.
But, man! What a sight the big falls was on this day!
Looking downstream from the big one. Stairway to Heaven is literally around the corner:
This guy actually likes it when the water is a bit too high:
Stairway to Heaven was quite impressive to behold. As with lower flows, the left-to-right line was clearly the way. When Jer-bear and Loneman get there they know, if the stores are all closed, with a word they can get what they came for. And a new day will dawn for those who stand long and the forests will echo with laughter.
Jer-bear makes me wonder:
The stories don't stop below Stairway, but the Led Zeppelin lyrics do. :-)
By the time we got down to Storm Drain, three of our crew of six had gotten their fill, and opted for the scenic land-based egress to the takeout, while three of us polished off the remaining mini-gorges and boulder gardens. A notable moment came when a wrist-thick sweeper awaited out of sight right below the horizon of a random five-foot ledge. Jer-bear and Loneman made friends with it before proceeding downstream and I was the lucky one, having managed to boof my bow over it.
I've been on the NF Clack when the top part was good to go and this lower section was too low to float, and it sucks to choose between monkey-knuckling and just getting out and walking. It was quite a treat to have it be rowdy continuous Class III, but the blind channels and three short log portages right before the end demanded constant attention.
We made it to the takeout with minutes of daylight to spare, having spent just under 5 hours on the river. Shuttle got ran while the other half of our crew made their way out of the woods, and most of us proceeded to The Country in Estacada for food, drink, and a debrief.
The North Fork Clackamas always delivers interesting times, it seems. Lots of epics and lost gear come out of this canyon, and this run was no exception -- plenty of portages, a lost paddle, a swim, some blind runnings, and some hiking. Given the high flows, abundance of wood, noontime put-in, and six paddlers sharing tiny must-make eddies, we came out pretty damned squeaky clean!
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