Redemption: The Stewart River

 Myself perfecting the side boof on "Plumber's Crack"

A mid-week crew set about a morning run determined to get on the Stewart River after our debacle in the days preceding attempting the Stewart. Myself, Chris Baer, Brian O'Neil, and the weekday warrior Paul Hooper geared up for the day. By the time we had arrived in Two Harbors the levels were looking favorable. Thus we put on moving quickly through the pine forests awaiting the descent of the Stewart amongst the blue skies. Thereafter we were smiling as the river shared it's hidden gems while we took laps running the 15 footer plumber's crack

Paul running the "Pillow Drop"

and plunging into the mayhem of the "pillow drop". The Stewart is an old friend who has never disappointed me and one of the river's I know best. But I enjoyed even more, that I was able to share it was paddlers from throughout the country who were smiling as big as me... affirming the river's quality.

 

Chris Baer boof's Piton Falls

After greeting the expanse of lake superior before us we came ashore and raced back to Duluth for a quick run on the Lester. When we arrived, we found an whether red Tacoma in the parking lot and out stepped Chris's pal from Colorado...Casey Tango. We decided the Lester would be a proper intro to the North Shore paddling scene. The Lester didn't disappoint, as myself, Chris, and Tango sailed off of the 25 footer, Almost Always, for my 5th time of the year. Finally it was becoming Almost Always... a run for me rather than a portage. When we finally took off the river with the good natured crew and chatted in the parking lot amongst beers and laughter. Interestingly the take out parking lot's are often as much a part of the paddling culture as running the river itself. The left over spirit and energy of the river often spills forth directly after a run, a group of friends feeling belonging and contentment sometimes only experienced for a short season of the year.

And so another day in our short creek season had come to pass... well spent and as glorious as any.

Flash Flooding In The Midwest

Myself running "Plumber's Crack"

Over the course of an evening, darkness in clouds had been brewing. I excitedly peered at a myriad of bright colors of moving radar image. Rains looked to be inevitable for Duluth and the North shore. But would it be enough? I went to bed with a message on the local forum asking if the anything had risen.In the morning I got confirmation amongst text messages flying spouting glorious river levels. I had the car packed with gear in no time and was on the road. The sun was high in the sky and humidity was rising as steam off the drying pavement as I drove to the North Shore. The temperatures hovered around 85. I stood sweating outside the car overlooking the put-in to the Stewart River. The levels looked more than do-able and I made some quick phone calls.
I met Cliff in the parking lot of the Knife river and waited for the others to arrive. Anxious and impatient, I put on my gear and jumped onto the final drop of the Knife and did two quick laps. By the time I carried back to the car the crew was assembled and ready.

Jay boofs "Plumbers Crack"

Arrived at the Stewards put in, we suited up and Tony patched up his boat, as had become routine after the Split Rock river had maimed his trusty craft. As we paddle away from the banks of the put in, it became apparent that the level was by no means juicy (judging by the scraping sounds of our boats down the first set of slides). But as we arrived at "Plumber's Crack" the fun had only begun. Each of us paddled into an state of airborne joy while boofing the 12-15 ft falls. After 3-4 laps we each headed on our way.

T2 exhibiting the brown claw!

We braved through the newly descended drop I entitled tentatively entitled "Piton Falls" as Joel Decker has yet to name it after pioneering his line down it. Each of us slid through drop without an issue.

Myself atop "Piton Falls" w/ Cliff on safety

As the rays of the sun rose high into the sky, we reached the horizon line of the "Pillow Drop". A ribbon of light cast itself gloriously on the drop as we each melted into it's massive boilings.

Cliff bathed in light while dropping into the "Pillow Drop"

Lastly we took long glances at the line on the final fish ladder drop. Although seeing a definite possibility line, none of us had the gumption to fire it up. Paddling toward lake Superior a we collided with a wall of fog as the lake's cold air mixed with the humid sun warmed air from the higher elevations.

Happy Creeking!

Getting into my car and seeing a flurry of text messages on my phone regarding conditions on the Lester river, quickly loaded my gear and speedily drove back towards Duluth. The fog hung thick on the banks of the Lester river making the daylight fade quicker than a normal day. Excited prancing from my car to the river edge I was great by significantly high levels. I had not paddled nor seen the Lester this high in two years. A crew of paddlers emerged from the banks and I found some campanions to do a lap with me.

Inside myself I was nervous. The last time I had run the Lester this high the consequences were almost dire. Yet putting onto the river it was clear the river was lower than I originally thought and was not as high as the historic day two years previous. Every rapid felt cushioned from the rocks below and less abrasive. The river seemed to flow more gracefully and I felt in control. Reaching the 25 ft falls that is Almost Always I took out to scout while my companions charged over its lip. I had already decided that I would run it, but wanted to take a good look and run through the drop in my mind.

Japs styles "Almost Always" at high water

I pushed off from the banks into the current keenly aware of my line. When the moment came I charged to the river right aiming for a the clean and voluminous lip of the falls and fighting the majority of the river that charged left down a unfavorable chute. However, the river right hand water move more slowly. In hitting the slower current with significant speed, my boat began to peel out and I headed towards the lip of the falls sideways. Adrenaline took hold and I battled to straighten my boat. I turned the bow in the nick of time and grabbed a right boof stroke in the process. I sailed into verticality and landed atop the main flow of the falls and prepared for the hit. I collided with the 5 foot high exploding hole awaiting me at the base of the falls and was thrown into a left brace. Expecting to be immediatly over-turned, I was shocked to find myself rocketing forward upright among the wave train. The last wave turned my edges fliiping me and forcing me to roll up. I came to the surface triumphantly and felt the surge of adrenaline coursing through me as I smiled.

We paddled onward elated with the days events. I pulled my boat ashore and revelled in my success. The beginnings of summer had come and their ran brought the renewing waters to the rivers, and I myself left feeling again renewed.

A First Descent On The Stewart River

The falling of the river levels on the Lester river pointed us in the northward direction for paddling possibilities. The changing of the river conditions were signalling dire prospects for the season ahead. Joel, Andy, Cliff and myself decided that the Stewart river would be a good run. I could see from the put in that the river was not going to be as juicy as I preferred but was still at an acceptable level.

We geared up in the falling afternoon sun and put onto thee river. The Stewart river is familiar friend of mine and a yearly run I make. The river began with a longer slide that was disappointingly scrappy. After many bends of the river as it gently ran amongst it sloping canyon wall we heard the rumblings of "Plumber's Crack". There before us lay the horizon line of a clean ~12 ft falls. We each joyfully ran multiple laps off it enjoying some quality boof time and I took the time to learn the "stomp" technique. The joyful and stress free fun felt good.

We continued onward and arrived what was otherwise known to me to be an unrun falls. I had only portaged it in the past, but my companions having never seen it were intrigued by the possibility of running it. The river dropped of a ~10 semicircular precipice and fell shallowly onto a flat base of rock, then terminating in a descent hole in the center. None of us felt confident that it could be boofed effective (landing flat) so we explored the possibility of it having enough angle to slide through. Joel was feeling decisive and empowered not only by his full face helmet, shock absorbing bulk head, and warranty on his kayak. I set up safety finding a spot right at the base of the falls and waited. Without a hitch Joel skidded down shooting past the side of the hole and scoring himself a first descent. Having the falls already probed for us, we each took our turns being some of the first to run the line. Stay tuned for Joel's naming of the drop.

Only a single bend later, I went ahead and ran the "Pillow Drop" and smiled as I plunged down a 15 ft sliding falls and shot off of a giant billowing pile of water deflecting from a giant boulder. We all took to the drop without hesitation and added to days exhilaration. After portaging a nasty looking blasted fish ladder and sped through the last slide the river had to offer. We paddled into the dusk as the river opened to the flaming horizon reflected Lake Superior. It was a evening of joyous paddling not technically difficult but of sheer fun. I only wished the the river levels would hold and that another run could happen the following day. But there was no such luck for the snow had all but melted from the forest and the waters seemed to be receding. I headed homeward looking forward to the weekend of paddling before us.

The Stewart River: Low Water

After half day of classes the beat brightly as I drove the northern shore of Lake Superior to the mouth of the Stewart river. Gearing up at the put in the river was clearly going to be a drastically different run than it was the weekend previous. As myself and my fellow paddles put on, I found it was 2-2.5 feet lower than my run of it 5 days earlier. We weaved and fought our way past the class II waters dragging the rocky bottom.

I we made our way pas the first slide and onto one of the main attractions, "Plumber's Crack". I went last in line as I slid of the bony lip of the 12 ft falls. After a sub par landing, I walked up and ran it again planting a well timed boof stoke and sailing into a flat landing.

Myself boofing "Plumber' Crack"

We continued onward portaging another unrunnable drop coming to the next attraction... the "Pillow Drop". This time I had some apprehension about the pillow drop due to the lack of water many more rocks were plainly visible and uncovered. I plunged down the pillow drop with only a minor hit to a rock near my feet.

Myself rocketing down The "Pillow" Drop

We paddled onward as the imminency of Lake Superior became apparent as passing fishermen and the cool breeze signaled its presence. We paddled into the expanse of the lake and break through rollers came ashore. It was a fun paddle and a great day in the beauty that the North woods offers. I went home in the sunshine content with my day.

Paddling Rekindled- The Stewart River

The the winds blew cold as a new front of wintry air set down upon northern shore of Lake Superior. Still wet and geared up from a run on the Silver Creek, I shivered getting my boat from the truck top. Our same crew of seven paddlers slid from the banks of the Stewart River and began our journey among its currents. This being my third run on the Stewart river, and having walked it's entirety to recover a throw bag last year, I was acutely familiar with the river. With that awareness, I took the lead as we paddled the first stretches of its flowings.

The river was flowing at level higher than I had ever run it, and was nearly 6-12 inches higher than my experience. After multiple bends in the river we came to the first drop and exited our boats to scout. Ahead lay was a two tiered slide buried under a flood of water. Seeing the left line, I resumed my position and ferried out. I paddle into my line pushing through the minor clashings of water leading into the first tier. Cold water leaped up with it's watery grip attempting to push my about as I collide with the first wave hole and laid a hard stroke propelling me beyond it's grasp. Seconds later I was on to the second tier blasting into the slide ahead bouncing off a few rocks. I avoided a final and solitary hole and eddied out content with my lines.

The crew paddled on and as the river took a left bend we eddied out above Plumber's Crack. Exiting our boats, "Plumber's Crack" lay ahead as the water plunged over the 12 ft vertical falls. Everyone grabbed there boats and eagerly went to view it's beauty. Last year I had run the falls at a decently meaty level and plugged it and made it out okay (click here to see picture of plumber's crack from last year). However this at the river current level Plumber's Crack was impressive and intimidating.The falls was creating a big hydraulic and on the typical left line had a current pulling back behind the curtain of the falls. Secretly I was hoping someone else would run it, so that I could follow in wake of their gumption... know that someone else had ran the drop okay. But there were no takers, and fought with myself to run it in my mind and verbally. After getting a bit of encouragement from some of the crew and assurances that safety could be properly set up I went about sizing up my line.

Adrenaline was already kicking in as I carried my boat up to upstream eddy. As I pushed off from shore I breathed deeply hoping to exhale some nerves. I eddied out in a small eddy right above the lip. The crew of seven let out whoops and hollers of encouragement as I planted deep powerful strokes towards the lip. My focus narrowed and only the water and I existed as horizon line opened to the scene ahead. I hugged the left shore and rode stream of water throwing my last strokes before bursting into the air. I leaned forward looking at the boiling landing below me. I landed just as I had planned boofing (landing flat) into the pool below. The crew on shore cheered in congratulations and relief... I pumped my fist let out a whoop and went to work keeping myself from being pulled into the curtain. I paddle away with a smile.

Riding the waves of adrenaline still in my blood, we paddled on and forded the next portage and arrived shortly there after at the head of another horizon line. Ahead lay a rapid I had not yet run, but had my eye on it for the last year. Looking down from the cliff above I could see the "Pillow drop". The river raged 19-20 ft down a sliding falls and collided into a boulder. A 5 ft deluge of water exploded off the rock and buried it in a deep surging heaving of water. I had seen it run before, but at this high level the drop looked heinous. We all grabbed our boats and I shoulder mine to portage it, but meanwhile wrestled with myself to run it. A paddling companion likely sick of hearing me verbally wrestle with myself gave me the bit of encouragement I needed. I knew that the run was only safer at higher water levels. I again slid into the water and blew some good breaths as I heard the paddler on shore shouting in encouragement. I hugged the left shoreline tight and planted deep vertical strokes. I avoided a hole and saw the chaos ahead. I felt my boat falling into the vertical gap that would send me head-long into the boulder's exploded pillow. I leaned forward and braced for impact. The water blindingly hit my body as being tackled by a lineman, but I held strong. I had all along expected the giant boiling pillow to over turn my boat and I fully expected to have to roll up. Yet I emerged from the hit in a burst of water and speed upright. I peeled into a swirling eddy and made a tricky ferry across the river. The guys on shore congratulated me with a few whoops as I sat in an eddy waiting speechlessly content. There weren't words for the elation inside of me.

The rest of the river poured beautifully through earthen and rock walls. I felt good as I smoothly nailed my line on the last fun drop. We paddled on into the great expanse of Lake Superior. As always the joyful sense of awe poured over me. Only a paddler can describe the feeling of paddling a river from it's beginnings, passing through it's obstacles and challenges only to arrive at the vastness of it's ending and becoming into Lake Superior. Much a metaphor for the lives we live. I went went to bed that night, with my spirit whole and my body joyfully tired.

Hucking The Stewart River

The "Plumber's Crack"

My day wasn't going well. My latest med school test was terrible and I had gotten four hours of sleep in the last 48 hours. So I went home and slept for three hours to catch up before going back to class. At noon Roger called me up to run some rivers....the Stewart was first on my list.

My anxiousness to run the Steward stemmed from my previous run of it this fall. After portaging some of the drops on the Steward this Fall (due to lack of a creek boat) my motivation was solidified and led me to buy a creek boat this Spring. In particular, the "Plumber's Crack" on the Stewart was on my tick list of drops to hit this year.

On this day the rivers where running high. The night previous had brought thunder storms and an inch of rain. Upon leaving class and driving over to the river, I could see in passing that the Lester River was looking juicy. Meanwhile, as our crew of paddlers headed Northward to Two Harbors, I mentally prepared myself to hit the "Plumbers Crack" and picked through my memory of the line on it. I drove lost in thought, managing whatever uneasiness that develops when contemplating any significant drop and vamping up a calculated confidence.

Upon arriving at the put-in it was clear that the river was higher than my previous run on it in the fall. However it looked very reasonable. As myself, Roger, Scott, and Anthony paddled down the level was looking good. The first class III slide provided some pushy little holes that require some good maneuvering. We were on edge slightly because the river was still fairly unfamiliar to me and the impending significant drops needed scouting/ contemplation.

At last we reached the "Plumber's Crack" which was a 15 ft water fall. Upon looking at it I was certain I was going to run it. The line was tricky though. The waterfall is not uniform and pours over the river right side sooner the left and therefore slopes off pulling left to right. It forms a significant hole at the bottom with much boiling and turbulent water feeding back into the hole. Ideally you would fly of the river left lip boofing over the hole, however you must hug the river left shore and risk losing momentum on "f#@$%k up" rocks (an official kayaking designation for rocks that will kill your perfect line).

With safety set up (Thanks to Scott, Roger, and Anthony) I went for it. I was attempting to hit the left line, but it quickly became clear that my positioning wasn't going to allow this. I was getting pulled over it, right up the center. I had a moment of 'oh shit' in my head as I saw I was going right for the meat of the hole. Seeing what was inevitable, instead of fighting it, my focus shifted to positioning the boat to hit the hole correctly. To the credit of the boat or myself (which ever?) I at least pulled this off. I hit the hole right on the edge of were the backwash met the incoming water. This entire thought process happened in a less than micro-second. I impacted in an explosion of water and waited to resurface. The while in the chaos, I was comforted to feel air on my hands and therefore I hadn't plunged too deep. When the boat surfaced (upright) I threw in some hard strokes to pull away from the hole and paddled away looking back triumphantly and smiling. Here is the time lapse photos:
The rest of the run was gorgeous. In terms of beauty, the Steward ranks high. We were cruising in a mini-gorge with older growth cedars and pines overarching and shading the river. Figments of light sparkled through the trees as the sun sets behind us. Along the river small caves cut into the rock walls and provide beautiful eddies to relax in. Through more enjoyable high flow class III we forded ahead. As we turned the last bend, I watched the river widen and flow into the beautiful expanse of Lake Superior. I love finishing river in Lake Superior, because in many ways it completes the metaphor that river running embodies....

It was a great way to end the day or any day for that matter. The river washed everything away: no anxiety, no stress... just living in the moment of abiding tranquility.