Upon arriving home from my westward journey, it was clear that the season was turning and the rivers had broken open. Yet being bound by the thralls of medical school, I sat all week restlessly stirring with the feeling I was missing out on whitewater. To scratch the itch I was feeling, I decided to take a walk up a few local creeks to see how conditions were fairing. (Click any of the pics for zoomed view)
The Sucker River:Looking upstream from Old Hwy 61
Looking Downstream from Old Hwy 61 The upper stretch of the "Teacups"The lower stretch of the " Teacups"
The Knife River:
"Fish-trap Falls"seen below
After a peaceful walk up the Sucker and viewing the French and Knife rivers, I confirmed that I was in fact was inflicted with the irrational lust for whitewater. The plethora of ice, indicated I had not yet missed out and confirmed that there was still much adventure in the season ahead.
My day started at 3:30 am when the alarm woke me up to study for my med school test. I learned that getting 3 hours of sleep is much better than pulling all-nighters and has become a pre-test tradition. After passing the exam I was ready for action!
I hurried home grabbed my boat and threw on my dry-suit. The first run of the day was the French river. Since I hadn't been on many creeks yet this year we took the run slow. The French was fun. It had a bunch of great slides mostly class III running with maybe a touch of class easy IV. However I didn't like how scrappy it was...I want my boat to last more than one season. I then ran off to the Knife River with other paddler I met on the French River. The Knife was good and juiced. I managed to hit a couple of good sized holes and put my new creek boat to the test. After that run, I then had a small break before my friend Roger got off work, luckily I ran into my Dad who was chasing his own favorite pass-time (fishing) and shot the breeze with him for a while. When Roger got off work he, Nate, and I went and ran the French again.
Being thoroughly French-ed out, Nate proposed we head over to the Lester river for a go of it. I casually accepted the proposition, not really realizing what I was getting into. The Lester when running well, as it was, is a straight up class IV+ river. After setting up shuttle and looking at the first two meaty drops, my nerves ran a little high. Putting the nerves and thought processing away, I went at it one drop at time. It was pretty much non stop big flowing class IV. I ran the whole thing clean, with some moments I worried I might flip the boat....but I have found my new boat to be very forgiving. Of the drops we hit, Limbo Falls felt the most intense. It was only the second drop after putting in and was a 15ft falls slide that slammed you into giant exploding water. I remember coming up on the lip and then going into pure chaos, water exploded around as a slid down the main vertical section. Having cleared it I saw ahead the big hole that finished it off and put some paddle strokes in for momentum as I blasted through. The rest of the run had only more of the same. It was a confidence boost to have my first run of some technical and sustained class IV out of the way.
It was just getting dark as I left the river and realized that I hadn't eaten all day. I sat down at the local burrito establishment and had a great time chilling with with companions. It was a long, epic, and fulfilling day. I suspect there will be more to follow.
In the week previous to this one, whitewater paddling had dominated my diet of adventure. I paddled almost daily. So much so that the St. Louis river was become somewhat too familiar. I managed to complete my second clean run of the Lower St. Louis down to the swinging bridge. To mix things up I decided to try other people's shorter play boats made for doing "tricks". And so I gave trying a "loop" out (AKA: a front flip end over end). The video below shows some of my failed attempts.
Finally on my second day of attempts I squeezed into my friend's small play boat, drove the boat into the trough of the wave aggressively throwing my weight forward. In a violent instant, I found myself upright viewing the wave in front of me. I let out a whoop and raised my paddle in triumph. I admit my style points would probably be low, but the completion of the loop was a first step.
On Monday, I decided to go after another run of the upper and lower St. Louis river. As we ran the First and Second Sisters the sky darkened, down poured, and struck with thunderous lightning. We quickly got off the river and jumped into our heading back to Duluth. It rained hard all afternoon and miniature rivers ran down the street. I got a call around 4 o'clock inviting me to run the Knife river. It made sense that the river was high as a result of rain.
When we arrived was shocked to see the river was a not only high, but a rushing torrent. It was at flash flood levels, three feet higher than it ran this spring, and was a milky brown color as a result of the sediment from it's eroding banks.
We drove up to our put-in, while locals spectated from a bridge above. Giant uprooted trees float down-stream, and slammed into the bridge's pylons. We set off with an extra note of caution with the amount of debris that was floating down stream. As we paddled I look to the shoreline to see that that water was running very fast and would require much foresight in terms of planning for what lie ahead. We dodged logs and nasty strainers. Rapids that at lower levels were mild became more challenging holes and rollers. The were many intense moment of must make eddy-ing to avoid going over a nasty drop un-scouted. But none the less it was an adventure to be remembered.
Two days later I ran much of the Sucker River in my playboat. One class IV drop got my stomach in knots as I slipped into my boat after scouting it. I pushed off and paddled hard (my gut reaction to intense drops). I first punched through a descent hole, and lost some momentum as the exploding type of water came next. The water more or less billowed through a zig-zag slot that dropped about 15 feet. I ran it clean and without hesitation...while letting out a relief filled whoop of triumph. Just before the end of the creek I decided I run the last fish ladder type drop, that consisted of three ledge-pools with nasty holes included in each. I was not so sucessful this time. I successfully hit the first ledge but was stern endered in the squirrely what exiting its hole. I dropped over the next ledge upside down. My paddle was promptly wrestled from my hands, which left with the only option of exiting my boat. I surfaced and noticed I was still in the hole. It grabbed me and pulled me under to the bottom of the river and was recirculated back to the surface. I grabbed three or four breaths before be recirculated again, at which time a friend threw me a throw rope and I pulled myself up the rope and out of the hole. My boat washed downstream and when I came to my senses I took sprinting down a log riddled trail to catch my boat. I caught up to the boat as it went over a small drop. I dove into the river and tackled my boat and dragged it to the shore. I emptied the boat and continued paddling rest of the river and onto Lake Superior. We ended that day running the Knife River. It had dropped considerable in levels since my last run on it, but was still at Spring-like levels. It gave us a fun ride as we dropped the middle falls and holes as well as running Fish Trap falls which consisted of one 6 foot drop, then a slightly more intense 8 foot drop into a small pool then dropping another 10 ft falls attempting a boof to avoid sticky hole beneath it. It was epic week, that will be framed in my memories of this being the best of summers.
I awoke disoriented at 8:30, with my body asking, "asking why are you awake"?. I sat in confusion for a moment until my mind answered, "Oh, yeah...we're suppose to go kayaking". I quickly got ready, putting on multiple layers of polypro and neoprene. I ran out the door and packed my kayak and paddle into my buddy's awaiting car. Our plan was to surf Lake Superior in our kayaks.
Looking out the window, the dull grey weather accompanied with the bitter cold 20-30 mph winds and scattered rain would ordinarily seem pretty dreary. However, today I sat nervously excited at the prospect of the morning's adventure. As we drove up the north shore it was clear that the waves were breaking and the ice chunks were dissipating from the shoreline.
When we arrived at Stoney Point things didn't look that great...mushy mediocre waves, very cold winds. So we decided to drive up the shore to check out the knife river and see if it was open and run-able. We were pleasantly surprised at the conditions and decided to give it a run.
I got out of the suburban and setup on the grassy shoreline of the river. I nervously got into my boat and slid into the flowing water. I was well experienced at getting knocked about in surf on the big lake, but rivers were a knew thing to me at this point. So I carefully practiced my technique getting in and out of eddies (calm pools usually behind boulders, trees, ice blocks). As we traveled down river I became more and more comfortable paddling through the swells, waves, and "gnarly" class III rapids. It's like a roller coaster ride: cresting over waves, water rushing up and exploding onto and around you, meanwhile passing boulders and ice chunks.
A small drop on the knife river (picture courtesy of the Lake Superior Stealhead Assoc.)
During our run, I ran into an unexpectedly hungry hole, that gnashed it's teeth and managed to roll my boat. I stayed calm and attempted to roll... the first attempt..... I missed it, my face never reaching the surface. I set up underwater for another attempt to roll up... a rock hit my helmet'd head.....and....... I rolled up! My buddy congratulated me on my roll and me not popping my skirt and aborting from my kayak (a cold and problematic proposition). We merrily continued down the river without snags, managing to surf a river wave or two.
I carried my boat up out of the river and crossed under the highway bridge grinning to myself as I reached our vehicle. It was another day, another adventure, another reason to love the world I live in!
Tommorrow...the waves will still be crashing, the rivers still rushing... and me still smiling.
Looking upstream from Old Hwy 61
Looking upstream from Old Hwy 61
Looking Downstream from Old Hwy 61
The upper stretch of the "Teacups"
The lower stretch of the " Teacups"
