Uncommon Luck: Selway River

This year I had come upon some uncommon luck. I had found myself in possession of Selway River Permit. For those unfamiliar, the Selway river has restricted access during the Spring runoff. Thus in the winter before the season starts the whitewater world begins applying for permits. They are then pooled and a lottery is used to select the lucky winners. Not uncommonly folks often go 10 years without getting a permit for the Selway... but in my good fortune I have gotten one two years in a row!!!!

So myself and my fast friend Nate Winning had amassed a a crew of paddlers and rafters. They included several of his rafting friends from his recent Grand Canyon Trip. Meanwhile, our friend Doug Marbarger from Missoula brought along "Team Carne" to include Frank McCann and Thorin Geist. Lastly I invited my friend Scotty Ewen from the Northwoods of MN.

However in day before the trip I was out for my daily rounds on Brennan's wave in Missoula when I ran into a two paddlers from Asheville North Carolina.... Ryan Richardson and Eric Weigel. They had just finished college and were touring the country in search of whitewater adventure. They seemed like a happy couple of paddlers and I had a beer with them later that evening. I told them of the Lochsa... but at that time wasn't sure of the size of my group or if I had extra spots but as we parted ways, I found out they'd be headed to the Lochsa.

Days later, I met up with Scotty Ewen and we hurried over to the Lochsa to meet the rest of our Selway crew. As we all furiously packed our gear away, I notice Ryan and Eric's SUV nearby. By this time I was aware I had 4 spots left on my permit (16 people max).

Here is the footage from my recent adventures on the Selway River. We had a lovely crew including three rafts and 9 kayakers. Enjoy the footage:

  Selway River from B Norrgard on Vimeo.

The Stillwater River

As the sun breathed it's fiery breath upon the Beartooth Mountain's high country, the waters began their migration and the Spring paddling season was born. It was a stark transition from paddling in my homeland of Duluth where Class V creeks and drops lie within the city limits. But from my new Billings the Beartooths loomed distant in the horizon and thus whitewater flowed an hour South and West. But working an inhumane 75 hours a week in the hospital was eating at my soul. I felt one dimensional and disconnected. Thus was born a ravenous hunger for the river as an desperate cure for a life of growing apathy.

The Stillwater River from B Norrgard on Vimeo.

Within near reach was the Stillwater river and became a staple in my after work paddling. Nearly an hour and half away the Stillwater powerfully roared through the Beartooth Mountains before meandering through the grassy foot hills of Yellowstone River Valley before converging with the Yellowstone River itself. The Stillwater Drainage is one of the larger of the Beartooth's and thus run as moderate flows of 1500-3000 cfs through much of the spring. In high Spring flows it provides Class IV-V big water delight, while at low flows the upper stretches contain Class V tight creeking. Thus the river is a versatile run through the changing seasons.

Over the course of the season the Stillwater became a familiar friend and a savior. The rushing waters song muted the noisy demands of the turning world. Whitewater became a meditative dance between me and the river, and my toil away from the river became only a mere distraction. Each day I left the river in the looming dusk, nourished and lit with a renewed flame of vitality. I thankfully drove home smiling into the glowing horizon.

Yellowstone- Part 3

My time in Yellowstone was becoming immanently short and in the last weeks there was much to be done. I woke with the morning dew glittering in the sunlight, poured a cup of coffee and watched the sunrise into the sky. I would take my freedom and run with it. My decision was to abandon the trail and bushwack through the backcountry to where ever my curiosity desired. I easily decided that I would go to the area south of Avalanche Peak and head towards Top-Notch Peak, then heading towards the mountains on it's backside.

Exiting my car I took a quick note of the general direction of Top-Notch and headed into the woods. Before hitting the tree line, the going was not easy. But as things opened up I picked my way up a ridge line that appear to make it's way reasonably to the summit.

The ridge line towards Top-Notch

Armed with my pack of essentials, I was feeling strong and energetic and the sun was not yet high in the sky. As I climbed the steep scree and as I crested what I thought would be summit, I found myself on the edge of less than favorable cliff edge. Knowing that what lay in front of me was impassable, I grudgingly headed down and around the backside of Top-Notch with the new intent of reach Mount Doane.

The top of Top Notch

Having crossed over the backside of the mountain into a beautiful pond filled bowl, I began my traverse toward Mt Doane. But the going was not easy, as I found myself down climbing into steep gullies and climbing out again. I was beginning to get tired and hot, as the sun was now baking the earth around me. I got within 6 miles of Doane and looking at my clock knew it would have to wait for another day. I headed back up and over the shoulder of Top-Notch and scrambled down another gully. Into the wood I went a clamored my way through the forest back to the vehicle feeling weary.

Mt. Doane in the distance

An alpine lupine

Two days later having given myself an ample day of rest, I made it out of the cabin late. I quickly decided I'd do the "seven mile hole" trail that took one to the bottom of Yellowstone and to what I presumed was a nice hole... as in whitewater. So I embarked from Canyon village by running down the trail until I reach the descent into the canyon. About half way down, I heard some ominous cracking and breaking of branches. I stopped dead still. Barely breathing I listen intently. Something large was moving on the trail ahead, and I was not about to find out if was a bare. I quietly walked back up the trail with my bear spray in hand and found a decent tree. I climbed up 20 ft up and waited. After hearing enough commotion I decided I'd let whatever it was know I was around and begun singing a tune. Whatever it was it took off.Yellowstone Canyon

I continued down the trail and made it to the edge of the crystal waters of the Yellowstone Stone river. After the disappointment of finding no hole, I decided to take a quick swim before making my way out of the canyon. As I reached the canyon brim I halted my brisk walk to observe two set of bear tracks that had not been there on the way out. I nervously forged ahead, and found no sign of bear. I made it back to the car and drove back to my lodgings weathering the normal afternoon Yellowstone traffic.

The Yellowstone River

After two nights of rest and noting that I had time for one last adventure, I set out to hike a classic trail. I decided I would hike the Yellowstone river trail from Hell Roaring Creek to Gardiner, MT. I would have to leave a bike at the end of the trail and bike 20 miles uphill back to the car after hiking 18. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could do it. I had plenty of doubts as I left a bike under the bridge in Gardiner. But once I got back to Hell Roaring Creek and got established on the trail, my mind wandered elsewhere. However, I did notice that I was on the hot open plateau and hoped that I would find shad along the way. However the shade never came as the temps reach up into the 90's. I soaked my T-shirt in the river many a time in an effort to quench the days heat.

I kept walking along the river until the Mountain sides squeezed together and the water began to roar. I had reach Knowles Falls. Granite (or some other metamorphic rock) walls and smoothed formations pinched the river into some gorgeous whitewater. Viewing it from a kayaker my description is as follows: If kayaking the Yellowstone were not illegal, Knowles Falls would be a classic run. It consisted of 3 or 4 big water class IV+ and V rapids that looked absolutely beautiful.

The Lead-in to Knowles Falls

Knowles Falls!
(much bigger water than it seems)

Moving on past the enticing water, I again began to notice the heat. I walked on in a state of thoughtless motion, there but not really present. However, my conscious came crashing in on me. I had been walking looking maybe only 3 ft ahead of me. It took a second for mind to register what had entered my vision, but when it did I jumped back. I had nearly stepped on a extremely large snake, who otherwise didn't seem much alarmed by me. I'm not generally afraid of snake, but I also don't prefer to get ultra close with a bigger and hissing snake. I took a wide path around him as I snapped a picture. I later discovered that was a non-venomous bull snake, but really wasn't interested in finding out otherwise.

The bull snake

I kept marching down the trail find the Black Canyon of Yellowstone River and being disappointed I could more easily view the crazy whitewater that passed through it. I went on ward and just before the mountains opened up into broad plateau. I was shocked again, as a smaller bear ran from the trail in front of me. My bear spray's safety was off and I crept up a near by hill making all sorts of noise keep the bear from startling. For my good fortune, he had taken off and not looked back. I continued ferociously heated plateau. I was hot, tired, dehydrated, and slightly delirious as I finally reached Gardiner at 6 pm. The thought of biking another 20 miles uphill made me worry. Instead I waited until an older couple came up to the trail head. I asked for a ride and they agreed with thick French accents. I was elated to ride and talk with this couple who had touring the park just in from Paris. But as we neared the trail head, I was feeling more and more faint. I became so nauseous that I had them pull the car out. I felt so hot, faint, and clammy I quickly took off my shirt laid down on ground and poured water over my head. Before long I was ok again and made it back to the car. It was clear that the heat of the day had gotten to me and that I was pretty dehydrated. I made it back to my lodgings and fell asleep quickly.

And so with that adventure my time in Yellowstone expired. I was sad to leave the place I had called home for a month. It was a time for real growth in myself and a time of rejuvenation. I mounted a greyhound bus two days later, waved goodbye to my companion watched the open road open before me.

However, my bus ticket was not for Duluth but St. Cloud. I was on my way to meet a friend and head back to Sturgeon Falls for some last minute whitewater paddling before the start of school. (To be continued....)

Summer in Yellowstone: Part Two

The days turned to weeks and the passing of time was of little concern. I never knew what time I fell asleep and likewise never was quite sure what time I woke up aside for the amount of sunlight streaming into the bed room window.

After several weeks of regular hiking/ running my body was adapting to the regular exercise, sweat, and dirt. I woke one morning and decided to hike up to the top of Avalanche peak, one of the highest points that there is an official trail to. It was a grey day that had enough patches of sunlight for me to get out the door.

Leaving the car behind made my way up the trail excited to leave the treeline and experience the expanse the alpine tundra instills. I was feeling good and brisked my way up the 2,000 and some odd vertical feet in hour and a half.

The view from atop Avalanche Peak

However when I reached the top I noticed some lightning and thunder clouds to the northwest of me. After sitting and watching to see which direction the clouds would roll, I decided to descend. However by the time I reached the tree line the sun was shining again. Looking at the expanse around me, I looked up to the ragged Hoyt peak and decided I might try and summit it and go completely off trail. Letting my curiosity take me where it would. I mounted the gap between Hoyt and Avalanche, and began to realize that Hoyt's peak upon closer look was going to end up in nasty loose 5th class. Looking down into the basin below Hoyt peak, my curiosity was peaked by clear alpine lakes.

I as I descended I felt more and more enthralled as I climbed into one of the most gorgeous places that had graced my eyes. The landscape was foreign to me. Mottled with little lakes along avalanche carved giant furrows and with snow covered remnants of the season previous. I scrambled around with the wonder and curiosity of my childhood. I went where ever interest took me.

Video of Hoyt Valley

Seeing the sun falling lower in the sky I picked my way up the scree filled gap and felt fatigue meet my legs. As I crested the gap, I looked to my right to see ominously dark clouds pouring over and obscuring Avalanche peak as the sound of thunder rolled in my ears. Seeing my venerability being above tree line and 10, 000 ft of elevation I began to run. My flight took me down hill at speed that only my adrenaline could have taken me safely. Thunder roared as I met the treeline and snatched the rain jacket from my pack and dressed myself in it. The rain came soon after and poured down in torrents, and I continued to run until I reached the road and hopped into the car and drove to the dry comforts of my lodgings. I had no idea how far I had traveled, and had little care of making any quantification.

After a day of rest, I headed back into the wilderness. I decided to explore the waterfalls in the southern portion of the park, namely, Union Falls. Getting to the trail head proved more perilous than the actual hike. I knew from my maps that I would be on gravel management roads, but never expected what I was to encounter. The road started out as normal dirt road, but as the miles went by the size of the gravel grew, along with the size of the potholes. Driving a borrowed and new vehicle with little clearance to begin with, I respectfully was forced to drive at an average of 10 miles an hour. After driving for an hour and a half the road became so bad I pulled the car over and began running to the trail head. It now the time being one in the afternoon and having the knowledge of a 16 mile hike in front of me, caused me to run the entire trail. The way out to Union falls went fast. People gave me inquisitive looks as I ran by and bounded through ankle deep river fords. When I got to Union Falls and felt it's cool mist floating from it's base I could not help but relax and feel drawn to it. I climbed down a muddy slope to the base of the falls, and let the ice cold water rain down on me and quench the heat of the sun filled day.

Gorgeous Union Falls


Despite me scarfing a granola bar.... Union Falls video

After a soaking from the heavens, I climbed back up to the trail an began running back. Things were a little more painful on the way back as my knees began to ache and my quads stiffened. I emerged from the trail head and walked back to the awaiting car relieved to drive back to comforts of shelter and companionship.

Giving myself a few days to recover, I headed back to the south and made my way to the top of Mt. Sheridan. Arriving at the trail head at 9 am I was aware that it was going to be a long day. Ahead of me lay 7 miles to Heart Lake then 3.2 miles to the peak of Sheridan then back, round trip totaling 21 miles. The miles towards Heart Lake went by fast as the sun had not risen to it's full height yet and as the lake was visible in the geyser filled valley before me.

Classic thermal pool in Heart Lake Valley

Mt. Sheridan from the beach of Heart Lake

Shortly after passing along the sandy beach of Heart Lake, I began hiking up Sheridan. Monitoring my condition so as to make it back in a reasonable condition, I was feeling pretty good and kept myself cool with the passing mountain streams. I kept the pace up the weaving ascent until reaching the glorious summit. I stopped to rest and soak in the expanse before, seeing the Tetons to the Southwest and all of Yellowstone Lake to the North. I took a few deep breaths of fresh mountain air and let my mind clear itself so as to find room to fit appreciation the vast horizon before me.

Myself atop Mt. Sheridan

I came down from the mountain, and retraced my footsteps as the afternoon heat set in. The sun being high in the sky, the trek back was more slowed and I fell into my normal meditative hiking state, only vaguely aware of the trail and lost in thought. As the trail ended and I headed back to my lodgings content and hungry. Having been lost in my own mind for a majority of my days, I came home to the shelter of warmth, shade, and company. I went to bed at night content and filled with happiness wholly.

Summer In Yellowstone- Part One

After medical school came to a glorious close, and I finished off the month of July banking a small income while gaining a little practical experience in an internship at the Cloquet Hospital. With money in the bank and the month of August free of obligation, the stage was thereby set for my next set of adventures . I started my journey to Yellowstone National Park.

My gravitation towards Yellowstone was two-fold. I needed to regain my soul and spirit and reconnect with that which is the essence of me. It is something that easily is stripped while in medical school, where I lose the absolute freedom to feed that which I love and the nourishes that deep part of me. Secondly, but not secondary, was the opportunity to indulge in the company of my significant other who generously offered a place for me to stay within the park.

I arrived in Yellowstone through smoke and flame. The east entrance to Yellowstone gave me my first experiences with forest fires, as helicopter bearing water flew over head and "hotshots" passed by. Having arrived, my new home for the month was beside Yellowstone lake whose waters reflected the surrounding mountain sides.

Clouds of smoke from fires near the East entrance to Yellowstone

Each day was a taste of freedom I had so missed. I woke every morning and lived by mere impulse alone. My impulse compelled me to hike into the backcountry, 3 days a week, often for 6-8 hours at time. Each day a new location, a new destination, and yet the same pristine solitude.

On the first of these outings, I mounted one of the more stereotypical paths summiting Mt Washburn. However, to spice things up, I decided I'd run the entirety of it. I recall getting many smiles, scowls, and looks of indifference from passers as I ran up and down the slope that reached the peak of Mt. Washburn. The view from on top was the first horizon of many that would come to grace my eye's.

Days later, I ventured onto the Thorough Fare Trail that followed the Northeastern shore of Yellowstone lake. By this time I became aware that carrying a bearspray canister was not necessarily an optional accessory for the backcountry. At this point I had not been entirly convinced of this but on this day was made a believer. I began by running the first few miles until coming up the bank of a creek. I stopped at the sight of grizzly tracks. This is being a heavily todden trail and with the knowledge that a party with horses was ahead of me, I knew these tracks were less than an hour in age. I walked slowly, singing loudly my newly formed and improvised grizzly bear song, which alerted the world to my presence; bears primarily but humans included. I wasn't able to relax until I passed another hiker who, with a grin, complimented me on my song and operatics. I must have hiked 14 or so miles that day. I topped it off by indulgent swim in the lake that quenched the heat of the day and washed the salt from my eyes.

From the paw prints, I guess bears are attracted to the stench of a backcountry outhouse on the thorough fare trail

After a few days had passed, I was back in the back country. I woke early as to avoid the frustrations of the daily traffic that infects the buffalo and tourist clogged Hayden Valley. I often spent more time in stuck in traffic in Yellowstone as I have in some metropolotin centers. Having successfully avoided this fate, I headed North to Tower. Leaving the trailhead behind, my feet carried me across the Yellowstone River and on to Hellroaring creek.

Hellroaring Creek

After fording the creek, I continued along it's banks. As I went the landscape around me changed. I started the day in the dry and open plateau covered in sweet smelling sag brush and blanketed by the noon heat. As I went further up the creek, the tree's and understory grew thicker. Small streams flowed down the mountain sides and the green came into the land. It started to feel like home again, seeing huckleberry's and wild rapsberry's while trodding through a muddied trail rather than the dust sand filled trails. I hiked 11 miles out as the heat rose into the 90's and on my way home jumped into a deep pool of Hellroaring creek's cool waters. By this time I was becoming my comfortable with the notion of Grizzly's and since I was in fairly open country my concern was lessen. However on the way out I noticed a park serive bear trap, along with a couple of old carcasses along the trail. Attempting to drive home, I had the misfortune of hitting traffic. Rather than waiting it out, I decided I'd go around it on a joy ride through the park. The sun was falling as I passed Old Faithful and Grant Village. I arrived home happily
exhausted.

The mighty Yellowstone River

I had gradually fell into a routine of waking each morning pulling out my guide book and deciding a destination. I spent my hours hiking being complative and enjoying my freedom from responsibility. I went to bed at night tired and content!

Hucking Illgen Falls

My second run of Illgen

I awoke late Wednesday morning to a text message asking if I wanted to run Illgen Falls. Having the day off of med school I figured...why not? The sun was shining and air was warm as the three of us paddlers converged on Lester Park and car pooled Northward; myself, Jeremiah Peck, and Anthony Abalsliger. We also brought a trusty camera man to document the action.

Arriving at the Baptism river we stopped and checked the gauge which read 2.2 ft. It was not by any means high, but definitely meant Illgen Falls was runnable. Parking near the falls we hurried down to take a look. It had much less water than I had seen earlier this year, but was clearly runnable. We scouted the already obvious line down the falls and went back to the car to gear up. I readying myself in silent contemplation of the events ahead. Carrying our boats we headed back to the Falls. We each went our individual ways of getting ready and nervously scouting the line.

Finally I said to Jeremiah, "you wanna rock, paper, scissors for it?" in regards to who was going to huck it first. Anthony chimed in, "I'll go second". I looked at the two of them, no one really wanted to go first and I had enough willingness..... I exclaimed, "screw it, I'll go first". There it was...my verbal proclamation had cemented it. I slid into my boat and made myself comfortable while the others on safety had cameras poised. I push off into the current and intently paddled to the arching lip just right of center. As I came over the top, I looked down from the precipice to the water below with the whites of my eyes likely showing. As gravity took hold, I made myself attempt an Oregon tuck, trying put my paddle blade in front of me and ducked my face just before impact (which in actuality didn't happen as my brain thought, as seen in the video). When I hit I was surprised that it was not as violent as I would have expected. I was under water for only a split second before I emerged upright and paddling.... and equally surprised that I didn't have to roll up. I raised my paddle triumphantly and smiled. Here's the video of the run:



Next to run Illgen was Anthony. I waited at the base of the falls with a throw rope in one hand and video camera in the other. Jeremiah was standing ready above the top of the falls on the river left cliff face. Anthony came over the falls slightly more left of center and penciled into the falls. His boat resurfaced at the base of the falls getting beat and held by the falling water. Here's Anthony's run:



It flushed the boat a split second later, just after he popped his skirt. While swimming he was pushed to the left cliff wall. Jeremiah promptly dropped his throw rope down to him which Anthony quickly grabbed. Jeremiah then instructed me to throw a rope from my vantage to pull him away from the wall and down stream. I ran up as close as possible and made a frantic toss that didn't reach him, then another attempt still worse. Jeremiah holding the rope walked the cliff band until he could pull Anthony more down stream and away from the cliff till he could swim ashore on his own. It was a little frantic at first, though it must be said Anthony at no point was in life-threatening danger and had adequate safety ready for him. But he was glad for our help to get him out of there. Meanwhile the next problem was that Anthony's boat was trapped against the cliff in the current beside the falls and was staying there.

It was clear I was going to need to rappel down to the boat in order to free it from Illgen's grip. Myself being a rock climber, I was well aware of the capabilities of my gear. I knew my throw rope was spectra rated to at least 1600 lbs and we had another throw rope of similar strength. I also knew I was going to need to make a harness...we had no webbing though. So I ran up to the car and grabbed a 12 ft NRS car tie down strap and brought it back and made a harness as I was taught in my American Mountain Guide Training.

Myself getting harnessed up and ready for action with the NRS strap

We formulated a plan for us. I would rappel down on one line while having another line tied to my releasable tow-line belt which would be manned by Anthony at the base of the falls onshore and downstream. I then would rappel down, clip the boat to my tow line, then rappel off the end of the rope (into the water at that point) and be pulled/swim ashore by the line attached to my belt manned by Anthony. Jeremiah anchored the rap line a tree and I rappelled down the cliff on a munter hitch (another climbing trick, when you don't have an actual rappel device). I reached the boat flipped it over and clipped it. Dropping into the water, Anthony pulled me swimming and the tethered boat ashore. It was gratifying to put my rock climbing training and rescue skills to the test and we as a team smoothly pull off the extraction of the boat. Here's the video of the action:





After regathering our ropes, the sun came out as Jeremiah ran Illgen next. He took more right line down the falls, tucked nicely, was flushed, and rolled up triumphantly:



Anthony was not phased and was determined to run Illgen clean. He took another stab at it:



Then Jeremiah then took his second run of Illgen:



I was pretty content with my first run having not even needing to roll. I only hoped that my second run would be as clean as I shouldered my boat, walked to the river, deposited it on some rocks, and slipped into the cockpit. Getting the all clear, I again paddled for the lip of the falls. I threw some good strokes off the lip as a passed over the edge an down the falls. While descending, I conciously tucked thereby pulling the boat angle less vertical and attempted to place my paddle blade to spear the oncoming water. I hit much harder than the first attempt and braced off my right side having barely even submerged. My goal was achieved, I again had escape rolling (not that rolling is a problem). Here's my second run of Illgen:



We left the river like excited school children; smiling brightly and unabatedly talkative. We packed up and had ourselves a celebratory beer and headed home. It was the perfect way to top off the creek season which was rapidly coming to an end as spring runoff wained. I had had Illgen on my tick list for the year and was happy to have reached and surpassed my goals for the season. Only a year ago in April, I had run my first river and now found, a season later, myself in a whole new place of confidence in my paddling.

Climbing Zion: The Arrival

Leading a beautiful crack

After sleeping 4 hours and finishing a medical school exam, I found myself boarding a plane for Las Vegas Nevada 6 hours later with my friend Tyler Overby. As the plane left the ground, it was clear we were not the norm of folk whose intention was to enjoy the manufactured spectacle that is extravagance of Vegas. We were in route to Zion National Park in southern Utah to climb the largest vertical sandstone faces in the world. It wasn't long before we were discovered, peppered with questions about our upcoming adventure, and offered a celebratory beer.

After touching down in Vegas we were aware that there were still obstacles to overcome before reaching our destination. We arrive at 9:30 pm and the shuttle to St. George Utah did not run again until 8 the next morning. We hunkered down in a quiet corner of the airport for the long night. After discovering no food establishments in the airport were open, we asked the airport information were the nearest exit was....and were informed that you couldn't just walk out of the airport...there are no side-walks, and in other words the Vegas hotel shuttles and cabs needed our money! Feeling the cold hand of oppression, I was determined to break out of the Vegas airport on foot. My first objective was to get the lay of the land. I headed to the top level of the parking garage and seeing the expanse, I picked my escape route. Soon I was out amongst the vacant rental parking lots and quickly jumped a fence to the busy streets with a clever smirk. I walked 3 miles to the strip, picked up some food, walked back, and fell asleep on the airport concrete next to our bags.

I awoke disoriented. Regaining my senses, I followed Tyler to the shuttle and 2 hours later was on a side walk feasting on a Dairy Queen blizzard in the sunlight of St. George Utah. Sam, a friend of a friend, arrived in a red pickup truck taking us to Zion.

After checking in at our lodgings and visiting local park ranger and friend Scott Rysdahl we warmed up with some bouldering to finish off the day.

Tyler Overby doing some sick move on an unrated boulder

The next morning looked cold and ominous as snow and sleet fell from the sky. In avoidance we didn't leave the house until noon. We then left toured local coffee and climbing shops in the nearby town of Springdale just outside the park until our caffienation wore off and darkness fell on the Zion Canyon.

The next morning we drove back St. George to hit up some of the local crags. We started our day with a 5.9+ trad line in the city limits of town. It was a thin corner crack, starting hand size narrowing to finger crack and open back up again. Sam was first to hit up a lead, followed by Scott, then Tyler. I having already top roped the line red-pointed the the route last. We then hit up an adjacent 5.10a crack. Scott quickly styled the route, followed by Sam, then Tyler. I feeling more confidant gave it it go. Half way up after some tricky moves my forearms were burning...I plugged in another piece and lower down then climbed back up and move by move finished my first 5.10a trad line.

Myself leading a 5.10a crack

We grabbed lunch at Del Taco and then ended the day at the Chuckwalla wall, which was comparable than an glorified and crowded outdoor climbing gym... in other words an extremely popular outdoor sport crag. Feeling tired I top-roped a 5.10a and a 5.10c route. We then dropped off Sam to his shuttle to the airport for his flight home and drove back to Zion with the sun dropping behind the red sandstone horizon. It was a day that left me with a face marked with the expression of contented exhaustion as I fell asleep in bed of the pickup as it drove on.

Onlooking as Sam leads

Ice Climbing

It's been a entertaining three day weekend of sorts. In addition to a little old fashion barn dance action on Saturday I had to look forward to ice climbing. So I woke earlier and warmed up the car and picked up Nick Aretz to head out to Casket Quarry to hit up a little ice. While the weather man indicated it -5 degrees out on this morning, as we mounted the cliff edge, set up the climb, and rappelled down, I took no notice. However, the ice told me it was cold... it was very brittle ice, making placement with the axes slightly tricky. As the day went on it the ice warmed up and the sun started to shine. After 4 ascents up the ice we walked back to the car with arms feeling the remnants of burning fatigue. It was a great day and a killer weekend that instilled a little spark of fulfillment that keeps my fire burning and makes the oncoming school week bearable.

Shoe-less

The night was far past its youth and the halls of the medical school were barren and silent. The perfect time to make a phone call and fill that silence. As I talked on the phone, I could feel that my eyes were heavy and decided a soda would lessen the symptoms of my late night fatigue. Distracted as I was, I left the school without my shoes and walked the short distance to the pop machine in my socks. As I watched the doors close and lock behind me I felt my pockets knowing full well my keys were inside those doors.

It was now midnight, on a Sunday during the undergraduate winter break. In a futile effort I called University facilities and was informed I would need to call 911 to get a hold of the campus police to get the inside the building. I had no intention of abusing the emergency dispatch system in such a way, nor was I going to call any medical school folks to wake them with my embarrassment. There was only one option in my mind..... run to car, grab the spare keys to my car, and drive home shoe-less and without a jacket.

The shoes I fashioned from a garbage bag, paper towel and syrofoam plates

I surveyed my surroundings wandering the University hallways and found the tools I would need. I grabbed an unused garbage bag, some left over styrofoam plates , and yards of paper towel. From them I fashioned myself some shoes to keep the cold and wet from my feet. The plates made a good sole, the paper towel an insulator/ cushion, the plastic bag to bind them all together in a water proof wrapping.

In the 10 degree weather I ran to my car with the shoes I had fashioned and a T-shirt. I shivered and laughed at my ridiculousness all the way home. Though my feet stayed warm throughout my short journey, my pride was in need of some thawing. As an optimist I had only to chuckle and smile my own absent-minded misfortune...I had at least made a story to be remembered. There is always humor in the befuddlement's of daily life!

The Summer of Paddling

Time lapse photo of myself "looping"...photo credit: Nora Whitmore

Paddling this summer I would describe as an evolution. So in July I was able to run the St. Louis river down to the swinging bridge which is always exciting endeavor, but had become more and more familiar to me. By mid July the drought had fully set in, the weather was hot with lot's of sunshine but some water needed to fall from the sky.... desperately. The paddling thereby literally dried up except.... during a Wausau Whitewater Park release. So it came to be that I drove Wausau and got to work on some playboating.


Wausau improved my boating dramatically, by giving an opportunity working on a lot of the fundamentals of paddling that playboating demands. Most memorable was the Midwest Freestyle Championships. My intention was to just gets some paddling in and to avoid any competition. But after some encouragement, and a good sunny day in the park with a awesome borrowed Jackson All star boat under me (courtesy of the Schroeter family!), I caved and signed up for the competition. I awoke the next day to a cold dreary day. Before long I was up to paddle in the competition. To all non-paddlers, the way a freestyle comp works is that you get a set amount of time to jump in the play feature and throw down your sickest moves in your bag of tricks...(which isn't all the big for me). So there I am trying hard to not look like a fool, and would maybe pull off a spin before getting flushed. So with 9 sec left on the clock I jump in the hole to go big with the only respectable trick I can really attempt...a loop (AKA front flip). So I dive the bow, whip my weight forwards.... there's a moment of disorientation, but seconds later I find myself upright with some noise from the crowd....apparently I pulled it off!

kudos to Nora Whitmore for this shot of me looping this summer

The remainder of the day I had a smile as I shivered all day in the 55 degree temps and constant drizzle in wet paddling clothes and watched the rest of the comp. That night after an evening with friends, to my shock... I learned I had made the final round of competition and would have to be up early in the morning to go through another round. In the comp I pulled off another loop.... it was good to see some consistency in boating. I ended up buying the Jackson All Star a week later, I guess it got me hooked.



Aside from Wausau there was also water to be flowing in Canada. So myself, Roger Peka, and John went up to Thunder Bay to hit up Crooked Rapids and some wave play action. It was my first experience on a bigger river wave...check out the You-tube video (I'll be providing better quaility soon). We also met a local named Peter who nice enough to bring us to the scenery of the Falls on the Dog river and later took us down for a run on the Kam.

Falls on the Dog River

The summer built my experience and changed my paddling... I miss the the days of feeling so tired I can only sit, stare into a fire, and fall asleep to the sound of a river!