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!

Fall Floods and Surf

It was not convenient, that as I began medical school, the sky poured forth and the rain began to fall again. It rained almost daily and created flood stage conditions that could not be left aside by any kayaker. As the storms of October first came in the blew steady winds to the shores of Duluth. The waves swelled and there was surf to be had. I first learned to kayak and roll in big surf, and was almost a comfortable homecoming to be back in it . I got out on park point first where 5 footers where rolling in with. I was intent upon working past the break line and hitting the big rogue waves. My afternoon was highlighted by a 9 ft wave that warranted a whoop as I bounced violently down it's face, and carved into it's curl. I spun out giving it a go backwards and forwards as it took me for a 150 yard ride. That was all I needed one gorgeous ride for the night. I went again a week later to Stoney Point where I was able to hit some more wave filled goodness. I paddled until darkness and lightening from the oncoming storming forced me to make land-fall.

That same week it was time to run some creeks. Most people have creek boats ...made for the task of... creeks. However having put my financial backings into a playboat this year, I put the ever reliable Big EZ up to the task. The six of us boaters decided to warm up on the Knife River. This being my 4 or 5th run of the Knife this year I was pretty familiar with it and had a good time.

A nice little drop on the Knife photo courtesy of Nora

We then decided to step it up a notch and run the Fench River. I had never run the French before, but found it to be a great run. It was a gorgeous river and had many class III slides that made for a good ride. After a run on the French we then decided for a go at Steward River, another unknown river for me. In retrospect, I would have to say that it ranks among my favorite rivers at this point. It is a river with big drops that are just on the edge of my ability level, but alas I feared too much to handle for the Big EZ. They were the kind of drops you portaged around and looked back as you paddled away with the thought just burning inside your brain... "I could have done that drop". Sometimes it's good to leave a challenge for yourself, just waiting for you the next season. We paddled out into Lake Superior in darkness just after twilight and made landfall. It was along and fulfilling day, that ended with a hearty meal and a diet of laughter with friends.

The next morning myself and friend woke up early and hit up the upper St. Louis River at 14, 000 cfs... which is considered BIG WATER. It was incredible, features changed and morphed in unimagineable ways compared to the familiar features I was used to. Often you would have to plan your route through the rapids while on top of a giant roller while losing site of what's ahead while in it's trough at such high water levels. It was better than any roller coaster could offer at the grandest of theme parks. We stopped at a feature entitle "Upstream-Downstream" that at this level created a big surf wave. I jumped in my buddies playboat and went to town. It was a killer run, that kept me hungry for more whitewater

The next weekend I had the burning desire to run the Stoney river. It had a class IV drop, that I had portaged earlier in the season and I was gunning to run it. The Stoney starts up with class III+ right out of the blocks, and after a few drops I was feeling good. We eventually made it to the "Box Drop" which plunged through a narrowed slot to the river 15 feet below. I came over the top of it seeing the horizon line and paddled aggressively knowing there was a descent size hole waiting for me. As ploughed through a rooster tail, my weight was thrown backward as I was blinded by a bursting of water. When I could see again I was on my way for the hole, I dug in deep and attempted to get weight forward as I into it. It turns out that I was thrown sky high into a stern ender, that managed to spit me clear of the hole (which didn't seem dangerously sticky). I quickly rolled up, and raised a fist triumphantly. The rest of the river was more of the same quality river running. It was another great run for the fall season.

The last run of the season; me and Roger surfing 1st Wave

The last day of kayaking for the season was on November 4th, and was a a classic run down the Upper Louie...just to have one more go at it. It was a killer season of paddling, and I await the thaw for continuation of my paddling adventures.

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!

The Summer of Climbing

Realizing that I have not written in very long time it seemed fitting that I continue with the stories of my adventures this summer and fall. Let's first talk about climbing... I began guiding climbing as of this summer and it was a wonderful way to get outside, make a few bucks, and get people excited about rock climbing. In the meantime, I planned my days off to head to Colorado to climb Trad. On July 20th myself and Jeremy set off for Estes Park Colorado, home of Rockie Mountain National Park. After long hours of driving straight through the night, we arrive exhausted. The first of the wildlife that we encountered was the most massive and abnoxiously loud red neck I have yet encounter. He managed to keep me awake while he took shots of Jim Beam in front of his three children that night.

The next day we woke around 5 am and headed out to Lumpy Ridge to climb some classic multi-pitch trad. The route of the day was entitled "Osiris" and was going to be my warm up route for the trip. It was a 5 pitch 5.7. I knew it would be less than 5 pitches due the fact we had a 70 meter rope and the routes were named in days of 50 meter ropes. However the routes were rated in the days of the old Yosemite decimal system. The first pitch followed multiple pocket-like cracks following a main off-width. This being Jeremy's first time seconding trad, I attempted to maintain my composure as the pitch was proving to be tricky and c aught me a little off guard. But after a bit of grunting and made it past the first pitch and continued on towards stringing together the next.

The first pitch of "Osiris"

From that point on the pitches went pretty smoothly and we made it up in three pitches with a smile.... it was good to be back on the mountain. We avoided the noon heat and decided to call it quits for the rest of the day. The next day we woke early again and headed towards, Melvin's Wheel and four star 5.8+ route. It was the very same route that I had seconded at age 18 for my frist multipitch. This route was sustained 5.8 all the way up. The pitch was solid finger crack going up and over a bit of an overhang which was challenging enough to be fun. The next pitch proved even more interesting up classic straight narrow hand crack to a large roof.

the second pitch of "Melvin's Wheel"

I reached the roof and set up the hanging belay. The next pitch was very nerve racking. It climbed a grunt worthy off-width crack through the roof, up and over into a chimney. It was my first chimney, and was not so fun. It was hugely flairing from foot width at its base to 30 feet wide at a large angle. Worst of all it had little to no protection. So up I went and my run out crept up to 40 ft, I was breathing hard and in some awkward positions...and finally found protection. Then continued up to the rap, in which we botched and ended up down climbing what should have been a rappel. It was a satisfying day. The next day we attempt to climb Longs Peak, but got off track and managed to climb the crazy scree field from Chasm Lake up to the keyhole. Jeremy and myself decided to back out at this point because, the days previous climbing combined with the scree was wearing us down significantly and we needed rest before heading to Gunnison Canyon.

Gunnison Canyon

We arrived at Gunnison canyon to the ominous rumblings of thunder storms. We met up with my friend Sevve and Collette and went out bouldering, while discussing plans to take on "Maiden Voyage". Two days later we packed up the car at 4:00 am and took off heading for the North Rim of Gunnnison canyon. When we arrived it was raining lightly and looked pretty grim. After contemplating our options we got in the car and began to drive away...but the sun reared through the clouds and we turned around got out and hiked towards the canyon. After finding the fixed rappel lines we descended 1500 ft into the canyon below. The approach was a cake and walking toward the route it looked good. "Maiden Voyage" one of the easier routes (being a 5.9) in the park which is well known for it's challenging trad.

"Maiden Voyage" followed the left edge of the Checker Board wall shown (see the climbers on the crux)

The first pitch and second pitches strung together were pretty mellow, and I set up a hanging belay under a roof next to the crux. The crux was challenging is the best of way, I head out the the edge of the roof and plugged a cam, and picked my way up... with some moments of intensity. The rest of the climb was gorgeous. I sat and smiled as I belayed Jeremy up the last and third pitch.... the rushing river echoing in the massive cavernous canyon with not a soul to be heard or seen... absolutely pristine! We left in the heat of the afternoon and headed back to Denver then homeward. It was a great trip and left me hungry for more trad climbing.

The Flood No One Knew About

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.

Back at Home: St. Louis River

The day was bright and the sun was high in the sky. The weather had decided that the last 4 days of rest and healing on my part (after my adventures in Wyoming) were to come to a abrupt end. There was no question that I had to get outside. Fortunately I had received a phone invitation to run the lower St. Louis. In a blink of an eye, I was out the font door jumped into friend's awaiting vehicle.


We arrived at river and saw the river was low and exposing rocks and ledges that had previously been underwater. However, the river's level was still inviting to whitewater kayaks. As we geared up, another arrived to join us. The first order of business was "the slot machine", normally a class V narly drop, but in low water was a fun class III slide down a 15 ft waterfall. I made my way into the mini-gorge that preceded it, got into my boat and ran it cleanly. Then we tackled the "ton" drop followed by the 210 drop (Class III) which managed to flip my boat, but I easily rolled upright again. We then paddle a mile through easy rapids and swept through the "First and Second Sisters" without a hitch.

The "First Sister"

At last we reached the "Octopus". It was characterized by first, a nasty class V hole (possibility of injury), then through a couple explosions of class III finally finishing with a cascade over a 15 water fall into a class IV hole with a nasty rock jutting from it's center. So my first order of business was to gather speed and launch myself over and down a water devoid slide to avoid the first and hungry hole. It was then a difficult eddie-ing out into the main flow, which threatened to push you against a rock wall. Having barely avoiding this obstacle I shot through a narrow channel and tangled with the first of the class III explosions, which threatened to swallow my stern and "ender" me (which would end in me being capsized). Then plunged over the cascade hitting my line and avoiding the nasty rocks.

a portion of The "Octopus"

I emerged with more confidence with the experience of tackling some more technical and burly whitewater. It was another joyful day well spent. We walked home talking and wondering what does the rest of the world does for fun....oblivious to our own departure from the ordinary.