The Story of Swimming Lava Falls

(a previous and successful run of Lava Falls on the Farmlands, at lower flows)
On Saturday, June 26th, the Husum gauge was reading around 3 feet, but the upper part of the Farmlands looked and felt more like 3.75 feet. (Apparently, a lot of water is being taken out for irrigation. The Class II-III stuff toward the end felt bonier than the top part.) I botched the line (1.5-2 boatwidths too far left) at Lava, and got worked under the veil after a decent fight in front of the curtain. I made like a zombie from the grave and pulled myself upright behind the veil for a quick half-breath before my hull engaged the veil again (it's tight in there!) and was quickly back upside down in the cave, with the downflow interacting with one side of my torso. I conservatively (breath-wise) swam from behind the veil and was under for a long time, being balanced underwater on the bottom of the main tongue for a bit before being barrel-rolled for a few rotations just in front of it (still underwater), as far as I can tell. Balling up only seemed to stabilize me in the subaquatic neutral zone, so I tried to tap the downflow and GTFO of there. My first attempt only succeeded in getting me to the surface for a quick breath and a whack in the face from a throwbag before I went deep again. I made a couple more rounds inside the hydraulic before I was able to straighten my body toward the downflow as I cycled back toward it, and tap into it for my deepest ever body mystery. I felt it accelerate me downward quite vigorously, and lightly bounced along the bottom of the river before coming up about 35 feet downstream, just beyond the boil line. As I swam to the bank, I urged my companions to get someone in the water to grab my paddle and be ready for the boat to come out. After a paddler went down to the next visible eddy and stopped without having found the paddle, I asked to be live-baited in to retrieve the boat (need it for the Idaho trip!), but no one thought this was a good idea at the time. They looked at me like I was insane, in fact. My companions were more shaken than I was at this point, for better or worse.

Witnesses said I was gone from sight for over 20 seconds during the extended underwater portion of my working, and I definitely remember a moment of realizing I would be holding my breath much much longer than I wanted, and that it was time to get calm and work the hydraulic. This thought sequence took place a couple of rotations before I was able to tap into the downflow. My paddle went downstream, was later recovered from an eddy river right 1/4 mile down, and was stashed on the bank by a clearcut. My boat remained behind the veil (hard to see since it is dark dark gray), and I made a rock climb egress straight up the cliff on river right, roped up another paddler's boat followed by that paddler, who managed to hitch up to the put-in to get my car. Can you believe the other guys were drinking beer at the takeout when we got there? Luckily, the sun had only just set, and my sweetheart and I had a lovely hike before it got dark, in the course of failing to find the paddle on foot.

Early in the afternoon of Sunday, June 27th, a group coming off the Farmlands told me that they looked for my boat but did not see it. I put on around 5pm with an esteemed local in his playboat, and me paddling my SCUD with a breakdown that Diesel lent me. (Thanks, Joel!) At Lava, the pool of froth behind the veil looked bigger/whiter, so I surmised that my boat was no longer being held there. The river was perhaps 3 inches lower in its banks, which made the weak spot in the veil a bit more transparent, though it was still a solid sheet of water. Downstream, I hopped out to search for my paddle two times, and found it at the second spot, which was as described by Saturday's crew. I stowed the breakdown, and continued downriver at a medium pace, looking for my creekboat at every turn.

Rounding a corner about 3/4 mile below Lava, where the river gets shallow on the left and current piles up on rocks and sticks to the right, at the base of an active erosion zone, I thought to myself, "this is where it would have stopped if it came through here," and (lo!) beheld my boat near the right bank, broached on a couple of rocks in shallow/slow current, upside down and perpendicular to me, with no apparent damage. I pulled it out to find that it had zero damage whatsoever, other than a few very minor scratches. Both handpaddles (with gloves attached) had come free, and my sponge was long gone. All other outfitting and equipment was intact. The Watershed stowfloats were bone dry. I made one of the burliest climbs in my life with my rope playing out behind me and attached to the SCUD, stopping halfway to yard it up for the final push, and left it hanging off the cliff, tied to a tree on the edge of the mad cow pasture, which was mercifully unoccupied by malevolent bovines. The egress here was so burly because the geology just plain sucked for climbing, with crumbly rock aggregated into loose dirt for 60 feet of vertical, before some vegetation and more solid rocks made it manageable. The descent back to river level was just as harrowing, and I can safely say that I personally accelerated the pace of erosion in this spot quite a bit. In retrospect, I should have floated the SCUD down to a better egress point, and brought a cockpit cover or sprayskirt+camstrap for that purpose. I paddled the Magnum out the remainder of the Farmlands, and met my companion at the takeout, where he presented me with one of my handpaddles, glove still attached. He had proceeded downstream during my paddle searches, waited for a while below Offramp before surmising that I'd had to hike out for some reason, and had been at the takeout for 5 minutes when I arrived. It was truly a great experience to take my time down the 2nd half of the Farmlands on a solo basis in my recently recovered creekboat. What a beautiful canyon!

The trespassy hike in to retrieve the SCUD was a sweaty affair in the evening heat, but with no cows or landowners to assault me, and such a great outcome, I was in good spirits. I made calls at the pair of wild turkeys I startled on the edge of the pasture, but they only clucked back. I guess they don't gobble back if they can see that you're not also a turkey. Some of you might beg to differ with their assessment on that, though.

So, there is a handpaddle with my name/# on it somewhere below Lava on the White Salmon, that may or may not have a glove still attached. The sponge was near the end of it's life anyway, so I consider myself lucky to be down one handpaddle, with no damaged gear or injury to myself or my parties. I do not recommend swimming Lava Falls.

Willie

Upper Upper Cispus: Behemoth from above

I'm still pulling together media and words for my Chelan Gorge trip report, so here's a clip from a Cispus run we did in the meanwhile.


(video by Travis Lee)

White Salmon: Green Truss: another day, another cave rescue

The Green Truss in summer can be a real treat. This weekend, we had sunny weather with temperatures pushing 100 degrees F. You know it's a hot day when you can sit safety in the mist coming off Big Brother in total comfort, wearing shorts and a lightly-insulated drytop. My lines were good this weekend, so I got to be the rescuer in the scenario below.

Steve and I yard Eric out of the cave at the base of Big Brother
(photo by Chris Arnold)

Lower Wind: handpaddling Shipherd's Falls, melt line

I tried to prematurely boof a little to give my bow more downward momentum into the seam. I don't think I can get all the way under the foam pile to the downstream side without higher flows or a bunch of water in my boat. Either would be a scary proposition.


(Thanks to Ryan Young for the footage.)

Pictures on Riot Team website

Luke made a trip report of a Canyon Creek (Washington) run from a couple of weeks back, and a version was posted on the Team Riot website. I'm in a few of the pictures. This one, at Big Falls a.k.a. Big Kahuna, is probably the best one:

White Salmon: Green Truss: two laps

After breaking camp near the put-in, I headed into town for some breakfast fare. Well-fed and full of hot coffee, I proceeded to BZ Corner to lounge in the sun and wait for boaters to show up. After a nice morning run with Lewis and his roomie Pat (who fired up both Big Brother and BZ for the first time, with good results), I hung out my gear and got back to lazing in the sun.

The PDX crew finally showed up around 3:00, and we got underway.

(More update to come. Here's a couple clips for now. Johnny exhibited his renowned brawniness on Big Brother, and I finally got a decent line on BZ Falls.)


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Lower Wind: two laps

Met Mike Long at Lewis & Clark at 8:00 a.m. Well, 8:25, anyway. Our Little White plans were dashed by the lack of a third -- this situation owing to a misinterpreted text from Luke. I wanted a third paddler for my second time down the legendary Little White, so we opted to traipse down the Lower Wind to kill time before some Portland friends were due at the Green Truss in the afternoon.

So Mike's delightful shuttle bunny (ring and a contract) helped us set a car at the bottom, and we put on around the same time as two other groups, one of which included Jacob Cruser and even some inflatable kayaks. We charged down to Shipherd Falls, with me trying the right entry line and spending a bit of elbow time in The Flume on the way. Sometime during our five laps on the falls, the phone rang, and the word came that our friends might be running the Lower Wind instead of the Green Truss, due to time constraints.

Later, whilst we pondered the meaning of it all over a cold PBR tallboy in the hot spring near the end of the run, the phone was heard to ring once more. Verily, our brethren had congealed into a critical mass of bro-brah-ness, which was converging on our location...eventually.

We killed some time at the store in Carson, where my rash guard got left and run over. Mike owes me big for this, and try to pay his debt by loaning me a playboat that was being brought especially for him from town by our impending crew. It was a ZG or some other archaic foot torture device, so I passed. When Mike spotted the shuttle bunny driving by, we engaged in hot pursuit, cutting her off at the pass at Hot Springs Road and Hwy 14. Jess drives slow, or we'd never have caught her. Thereafter, we made our way up the hill to the takeout, getting a call from Johnny when we were 100 yards away, wondering where we were, as he had just arrived himself.

So it was that our timing was perfect, and we were grateful to be with good friends Luke, Deek, and others, for another round of Lower Wind goodness. This time held no laps of rapids or falls, nor a hot springs stop. Nonetheless, a good time was had by all, and many sick boofs were executed with cold precision, to the extent which that was possible on the only "LW" that we paddled that day.

We went our separate ways, and as dusk neared, I boogied to the vicinity of the Green Truss put-in to find a camp spot, and found a pleasant unimproved site up on a ridge to the west. It was on the border of a timber sale, and several trees had been felled to block the road, so dry wood and tinder were plentiful. I strung up a throw rope to hang gear on, gathered some wood, made a fire and a bed, ate a sandwich, washed it down with Ice Cold Beer, and settled in for a relaxing and peaceful night under the stars. Tomorrow was sure to involve the Truss, finally.

I did not take any photos or video on this day, but this video made by someone else is very cool.

Green Truss, after work

I haven't been keeping up to date on my blogging, and this entry is a partial one, but I thought I'd post something for whichever of my faithful readers have not already given up hope. I have about 35 incomplete and unpublished entries, many just standard runs and one-paragraph trip reports, but some that will be worth waiting for.

If you'd like a sneak peak at forthcoming video clips, check out my videos on Vimeo.

This entry in particular has some carnage to report, which I will do once the video is uploaded.

Luke, Tony, Ryan, and I headed up to the Green Truss for an after-work run. The recent rain had brought the level back up to just barely above 2.5 feet, by our reckoning. It was a good day.

Here is my ill-fated line on BZ Falls. I started too far left, got too far left, and caught my bow on the raspy rock face, which turned me sideways. I knew I was in for a ride when I landed in a side surf. Enjoy:

Lower Wind River

I was still reeling from my bout with food poisoning, so I took it easy with another mellow run down the Lower Wind. I ran The Flume twice again -- it's getting less fun as the water runs out. I made just one pass at Shipherd's Falls, but I nailed my lines, so I was happy with it.

Dingo Dave swam the whole way, as he embarked on his virgin riverboarding voyage on a run that was probably a bit low for such undertakings. He said he'll bring kneepads and an athletic cup next time. Since he didn't technically have an out-of-boat experience, he drank beer sweet and pure from the can it came in. The same could not be said for all of our crew...

Cory had a swim at High Bridge due to a broken paddle, followed by a swim at The Flume due to a 190cm breakdown paddle. :) Kourtni got rodeoed in the first drop of Shipherd's before punching and earning a booty beer. The hot springs on river left below Shipherd's Falls make a cozy setting for keeping the booty beer tradition alive -- watch as Cory and Kourtni keep their river karma positive:



To Kourtni's credit, she hiked back up and ran the drop cleanly to make good on it:

North Fork Clackamas

Luke S., Ryan Y., Allen S., and Paul M. fired up the North Fork Clackamas at low flows. Much of the run was bony and woody torture, but Stairway to Heaven was nice indeed. Here is a shoddy low-res video of Ryan firing it up. (I forgot to up the default video resolution when I got my insurance replacement handset.)

Olympic Peninsula: short roadtrip

Headed up to the Olympic Peninsula after work today with Luke to grab some boats for Next Adventure. We'll stay with Kris W. at a cabin on a lake, and find some fun creeking tomorrow before heading back down. It'll be nice to test out Das Frankenboot (my stitched-together MAC-1) and see how The Plastic Mechanic's recent repair holds up. I should get an updated picture of the hull and post it here...it's more "Frankeny" than ever.

Update. We didn't plan far enough in advance to secure local paddling partners, so Luke and I ended up scouting some things, and taking in a couple of mellower classic intermediate runs in central Washington.

Sunday. Ah, Mother's Day. Originally started as a war protest. After a lovely brunch with Luke's family, we got to the business of picking a run for the day. Our eventual plan was to run the middle section of the Middle Fork Snoqualmie. Luke's brother Nate accompanied us to help with shuttle and get help for his own shuttle. Nate would mountain bike to the takeout, and we would kayak -- it would be a low-key race, of sorts.

We wandered about, looking for a suitable put-in, and eventually settled on a spot on the side of the road. We came to find out that we put in too high, as a couple of miles of Class II riffles and flatwater lulled us into complacency. There were some entertaining Class III+ boulder gardens and chutes to be had on the remainder of this intermediate run. We definitely charged this run, never stopping paddling and finishing in about an hour. At the takeout A nice woman named Renee, whom I had met on the Toutle (January 27th), recognized me and let Luke and I make some tasty turkey wraps. She was on the way back from the Wenatchee and had tons of extra grub. At this point, we saw a sheriff rig pull up, and Nate hopped out, grinning sheepishly...no bike, though. He had blown a tire a short way into his ride, and the deputy was kind enough to run him down to us. Renee and I talked river safety while Luke and Nate ran up to get the other truck and retrieved Nate's bike from where it was stashed in the bushes. Renee's two friends, whom we'd passed about 1/3 of the way through the run, were just coming off the river when we completed our shuttle back to the takeout. We definitely booked it down this sucker!

Saturday. We headed out for the North Fork Sauk, only to find that the road was blocked 0.1 mile from North Fork Sauk Falls, due to a washout. After extensively scouting the waterfall (an unrunnable 45-footer with Class VI and Class V+ lead-in drops that we plotted lines down anyway), we headed up the road on foot to see what we could see. This is the falls we scouted:


As we headed up the closed road on foot, we noticed six piles of bear scat. After about 1.5 miles with just one spot of river access, we decided to head back. On the way back, we saw a bear off in the brush and seven piles of scat. We were clearly in bear country, and decided against heading back in with our boats. We resolved to get a run in on the standard Sauk section. We put in near some campers who helped us set shuttle, and charged down this classic Central Washington intermediate run. Everything was boat scoutable, and we charged. Near the end, we wondered if we'd already passed the takeout, which resulted in some unnecessary bushwhacking and a possible first descent of a wood-choked tributary creek to get back to the river. Overall, it was a fun, if exhausting time.

East Fork Lewis headcam video

Ran the East Fork Lewis on this day with Oly, Weaver, and Andy S. Weaver edited up a short video from his helmet cam footage. I appear to do something akin to a wavewheel at 1:30: