Lucky Number Seven

It was my seventh run of the Lester River this season. As we put in, it was becoming more clear that the river level was medium-low and a bit scrappy though not un-runnable. The run was going well, "Limbo Falls" and "Mini-Octopus" all went clean. As I crested the top of the drop "Oh, God", looking down it looked rather bone-y. As I descended, I hit rock piton-ing hard and was violently stopped dead in my tracks as my body whipped forward. Wide eyed, I kept the boat up right as I pushed through the next two waves sideways. Making through, I was a little miffed and frustrated. Brushing it off I was determined to hit the next drop ( entitled "Oh, Shit") clean. I paddled in the lead. While sliding into the first ledge I piton-ed again and was pulled into the top hole side surfing. Pulling the side-surf into a hero front surf, I was held facing upstream with the rest of the class IV drop at my back. Seeing the grimness of the situation, my only option was to back out of the mini-hole backwards. Luckily through the next reactionary wave I was able to get my boat pointed downstream, however I had lost all momentum as I plunged into the large hole that completed the drop. It turned my boat sideways and attempted to flip my boat on edge. I braced hard hoping to pull through, but it was a futile effort. Before I could properly tuck to roll, I was hit within a micro second by a rock catching my eye brow and the bill of my helmet.

The damages...

Knowing ahead lay 20 ft class V waterfall, I shook off the blow, rolled up, and peeled into a nearby eddy. As Anthony and Lara pulled up having learned from my terrible line on the drop, they looked at me with an expression concern. Then a bitter iron laced taste let me know that my eye brow was cut. Fortunately, it was a mere a minor scrape. I finished up the run and pulled my dented boat from the water. My pride took a decent hit, although I at least kept the small consolation that despite my disastrous lines, I had maintained enough composure to keep from swimming and burdening my fellow paddler's. My knowledge of the location of the piton potentials on the Lester greatly improved having intimately probed them. After beating myself up about it for a bit, I let it go... All paddlers are bound to have a bad run, take a bad line, or get worked. Yet it's important I take this run as a lesson and as a productive bump in road toward building my paddling skills (particularly river reading in this case). So my seventh run of the Lester came to be a real charmer and milestone... my first bit of creeking carnage and lessons well learned.

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.

Three RIvers, Four Runs, One Killer Day

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.

Amity, Epic Surfing, and Lutsen Tele Skiing

Waves breaking on the rock wall near Stoney Point

So after a weekend of surfing and I took a look at Amity creek and thought it might be fit for a run. The next day myself, Anthony, Scott, and Lara found ourselves at the top of Amity Creek. It was a virgin run for the year and my creek boat. The first drops went well, and were mostly slides. I then dropped over smiley slide which could be consider class IV depending on levels. It was a fun ride that went smoothly. However as we continued down the river it was getting increasing scrapey and shallow. By the time we reached Gazebo falls Lara had cracked her new and defective creek boat. I wasn't going to lose anymore plastic off mine and decided I'd walk the rest back to the car. It was a learning experience building...patience. I now have a decent rock to gauge the levels.

The rest of the week I was busy with school. However to my great fortune, winter decided to give one final fight. By Thursday the waves were 5-7 ft and class was canceled for the next day with predicted 16 inches of snowfall. I went out after class to try and give surfing a shot, even though I could not round up any other paddlers to accompany me. It looked descent at Lester River, but somewhat nerve racking due to fact there was no set break point. So as I went out I was a bit concerned as the waves seemed to crest at anytime or point. I caught a couple descent rides and then decided that it wasn't smart to be out there alone as the winds were picking up.

All of Friday I sat at home reclusive avoiding the weather and studying. However the wind was howling outside, as I learned its speed had picked up to 40-50 mph and waves were rumored to reach 18 ft tall. I woke up slowly and went out to surf around 2 in afternoon, figuring I'd let things die down a bit before going out surfing. When I arrived Stoney Point proper the waves were huge... definitely too big for a paddler without a partner. So I found a small no-name break that entertained me for an hour. When I came back to Stoney Point it had died down enough to be attempted. However as I sat in my boat on shore it was clear this wasn't an adventure to take on alone. As I cowered back to the car my friend Andre and car full of companions drove up to watch the action. To my fortune, at the same time paddle friends Nate and Brian showed up to team up against the waves.

It was quite intense getting out past the break, which included waiting till there was a calm between sets and then paddled furiously praying you didn't get hit by an oncoming curler to slam you up on shore. Luckily I made it out and sat contemplating the break before me...it was far larger than I expected averaging 8 ft waves. I waited until a giant wave came up, breaking from the right. It was exhilarating and hair raising at the same time. As dark wall of water comes from behind as I look down it's slope ten feet to the water below. I came ripping down it's face as it curled and crashed behind me sending skipping along at ripping fast speed on the edge of a 4 ft pile of green water. I went on to catch 3 more of these climaxing in a ride down a 12 footer. Now this all sound very fantastical and wholly unbelievable. Luckily it was caught on video:



It was the most epic surfing I have yet done. I couldn't help but call everyone I knew just to attempt to expel the exciting and adrenaline that was overflowing. That night I traveled to a friends cabin up the north shore and woke up earlier and tele-skied Lutsen all day. It was a gorgeous blue bird day with the sun shining brightly and the snow wet and slushy. It was an absolutely perfect weekend complete with great adventure, great friends, and beautiful surroundings!

The Kettle River and Surfing Lake Superior

Carving it up at the end of a good ride on Lake Superior

Having a three day weekend away from medical school, I decided to take full advantage in reclaiming my former state of being. I was dead set on finding somewhere to paddle whitewater this weekend and dusting off my kayak. My initial plans to travel to Canada for whitewater fell through and made way for even better plans.

A group of us decided to check out the Kettle river to see if it was worthy of some play. When we got there, things looked very good. Before long we were sliding down the icy road to the put in. After the first hour of paddling I began to feel comfortable again with the water. It was relaxing to get back on a few river waves and surf/spin again. We also hucked off a minor 3 ft falls in an inadequate attempt to satisfy a hunger for some river running. After three hours of river play happily exhausted we packed it up and drove home.

Bursting out onto the face of a descent size wave

The next morning the wind was howling and the surf on Lake Superior was up. Sleepily, I slowly awoke over the next 3 hours, and headed out to the lake around noon. When I arrived at Lester river there were cars park everywhere and wet suited surfers abound. Over the next three hours I battled the wind and caught beautiful 4-7 ft waves. It was great to be back bouncing down the face of a good wave, catching long rides, and carving on some curlers. What was a gloomy sleet ridden and blustery day for others, was a gorgeous day of paddling for myself and fellow paddlers/surfers.

Playing on the green water after this one crashed down on me

It was a fulfilling weekend that put me back in touch with the world that I enjoy so much. It is good to be reminded again, as sometimes I slowly forget in the bustle of med school what it is I cherish. I was given a bit of a boost, maybe even a lightness of step, but not to be overlooked.... a smile for the week ahead.

Climbing Zion: Moonlight Buttress and Lunar Ecstasy

Before we had even left Minnesota Tyler and I had the intention of completing a big wall route. My naivety passed the adventure as just another thing I would jump into, and my conception of the adventure at hand was widened on our first day in Zion. We stood peering up at the towering Moonlight Buttress through binoculars and marveling at it's sheer faces as it rose up 1300 ft from the Virgin River like nature's skyscraper. Our entire trip was structured around getting us prepared to take on this adventure.

Moonlight Buttress
(a climber is imperceptibly small under giant overhang, click picture)

Moonlight Buttress is a rock face, however there is more than one route to ascend it. We decided to tackle the most difficult route on the feature "Lunar Ecstasy". A decision made more or less by elimination of the other routes for various strategic reasons.

The day before starting "Lunar Ecstasy" we carefully packed our haul-bag. When night fell we went out to fix a rope to the first pitch, so that the next morning we could quickly ascend the rope and bypass climbing the first pitch. I decided I was up to the task. So under luminescence of a headlamp I ascended up the ledgy base of Moonlight Buttress in what I believed was the correct route (5.8) through the black of night. I trad climbed what proved to be a somewhat challenging and sand ridden route. Having heard Tyler while belaying yell "only 20 ft left", I was aware I was nearly at the end of the 210 ft rope as I reached the anchors at the top of the pitch. We pulled our 100+ lb haul-bag up to the anchor, left it for the morning, and rappelled down. After fording the river we arrived at our lodgings late and fell asleep.

Tyler on the 2nd Pitch

We awoke to the morning light and flew out of bed having slept through our alarms. We rushed out to the Buttress to find a party ahead of us starting a different route that shared the same first two pitches as ours. However it was clear in the daylight that the night previous I had climbed off route through what was actually a 5.9 section! We managed to ascend our rope and get back on route and then waited in line for the party ahead to veer off onto their respective route after pitch 2. Pitch 2 was fairly easy for Tyler as he aided through it quickly being that it was rated 5.10 C1. Having split from the party ahead of us I took on the short pitch 3.

Myself trad climbing the 3rd Pitch

It was a 5.7 open book crack that narrowed to C1 aid climbing. I free climbed up the 5.7 portion and began to aid climb what seemed a short and tedious seam and finally stepped awkwardly out onto a spacious ledge just at the base of the sheer and varnished head-wall.

As the sun was high in the sky Tyler fired up the 4th pitch which slowly went ascended while traversing to a small ledge. It proved a long and difficult pitch require very small and tedious gear placements some off which failed a weighted test and popping from the sandstone. At last he reached "Farewell Ledge" which would be our home for the night as the sun was setting.

Tyler hauling the haul-bag atop "Farewell Ledge"

Farewell Ledge was a small ledge only 3 ft wide by 8 ft long protected by 4 bolts for anchoring. Having hauled the haul-bag up, we hung up our gear, and set up our portaledge for the night. The after eating dinner we settled into our sleeping bags on the portaledge...

Unpacking the haulbag on "Farewell Ledge"

... while harnessed and tied to the anchor with 700 ft of thin air on all sides. As the full moon light up Zion canyon and the stars shown brightly above me I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

The view off the edge of the portaledge...lot's of thin air.

We awoke the next morning and decided I should lead the next pitch (pitch 5). I was a bit nervous being that it was a C2 aid pitch (a more difficult rating) and was exposed and long. As I mounted the pitch I could see it was going to be tricky. Before long I was stepping up on manky tricams in piton pockets that ominously grinded as I weighed them and kept my stress high.

Tyler comfortably belaying me up pitch 5 from the portaledge...and saluting his Grandma

However as I got past the first and more difficult section the seam opened up to an easier 1/4" wide crack that took gear like a charm. I finished the pitch having aided C2 on only my third aid lead of my career. From a hanging belay, I watched as Tyler mounted the next pitch which ascended a splitter crack (consistent width) further up the head-wall. The pitch went timely despite it's length as it took to leap-frogging small cams very well.

Tyler again to the lead ascending the 7th pitch as the route began to clear the sheer face of the head wall slope less toward overhanging. Meanwhile, I made sure to turn on our very portable speaker system and rock out to "Floggin Molly" taking the edge off both of our moods. The sun was quickly falling in the sky and we were feeling more and more haggard. Tyler finished up the very difficult 7th pitch and hauled up the haul bag while I cleaned the gear. By the time I was ready to hit up the next pitch it was completely dark and the full moon had not yet risen. By the light of my headlamp I first pull out over the 1000 foot abyss below me and pull some difficult and nervous free climbing moves before firing up some tricky aid before topping out on a large ledge that would be our place of rest for the night.

The view of Angels Landing from our second night on the portaledge

We set up our portaledge above the large sloping ledge below and ate dinner with our spirit uplifted knowing tomorrow we would have only one pitch before reaching the top of the route. I fell quickly comfortably asleep.

The next morning, having the luxury of time, we decided we would get up and start climbing till the sun hit the wall around 10 am. When it did things heated up as I climbed the last pitch and 9th pitch C2+. It proved tricky since I did not wear my climbing shoes and had to switch between free and aid climbing. At one point I watched the piece I was standing on shift dangerously as I placed another one higher. I frantically clipped the higher piece weighting it before the previous one failed and sent me falling. Meanwhile tourists had discovered us from the hiking trail the ran along the top of the climb, and loudly marvelling they upped the stress level slightly. After several moves of manky tricams and a last piece place in a sand filled crevice, I stepped over the edge and mounted the summit of our climb with a whoop of triumph!

I hauled up and haul bag and watched as Tyler appeared over the edge with a grin. As we packed up the gear we heard "Lunar Ecstasy, 2008" and looked over to see our friend Scott coming down the trail. The three of us hiked 4 miles down the popular ascent/descent trail that also lead to Angels Landing. As we walked the gear rang on our belts like sleigh bells as the multitudes of tourist stared, commented, and enjoyed our spectacle. It was a surreal walk down into the canyon as we were treated like super hero's by passers after having spent three days in complete isolation. I smiled ear to ear the whole way down as the sun shined brightly on the desert and canyon slopes.

Elation at having topped out finishing the route

The next day we were on a plane home arriving in snow filled Minnesota. Completing "Lunar Ecstasy" was a major accomplishment for the two of us. One that very few can claim in a lifetime. As I attempted to re assimilate to my normal lifestyle I found myself speechless as to describe my adventures. It was a great trip to Zion that broke boundaries for Tyler and I, and formed memories of a lifetime.

Climbing Zion: Learning To Aid Climb

The second pitch of "Organasm" with the roof looming ahead

The next morning we awoke and slowly arose from our slumber as Zion canyon slowly warmed in the morning sunlight. Our plan for the day was to tackle "Organasm" a 5.8 C2 aid/ free route. The route was going to be our warm up and practice sessions in aid climbing that were to prepare us for our big wall multi-day climbing adventure.

The Zion canyon walls soar up 2000 ft as we drive in and park the car near the approach. The approach was cold proposition because we had to ford the 40 degree waters of the Virgin River to reach the opposing canyon wall while carrying our gear-laden packs. Emerging from the waters with numb feet we hiked up the hill reaching the route.

This is "Th Organ" and our route "Organasm" ascended up the right middle column of rock

It started with a 5.8 double crack system to a large ledge with some loose slabs. It then proceeded up a tricky open book crack (crack between two faces coming together at less than a 45 degree angle) that was unrated...but we personally rated at 5.10. It then continued the next pitch up the crack up an overhanging slope that split through a 8 foot 5.11c/d roof 150 off the deck. The route then continued with the crack up the face and topping out 300-400ft up.

The first order of business was for me to figure out how to aid climb. Aid climbing (to those who don't know) is basically climbing on gear...you place a piece in the rock.... clip a webbing ladder to it....step up and place another piece higher and repeat. It is a technique used for climbing routes you wouldn't ordinarily be able to climb with your hands (free climb), unless you were a climbing God (5.13d..etc). So I understood the concept but hadn't done a bit of it. I aided up the 5.8 and 5.10 sections just for practice. My first impression was that I that aid climbing takes time....forever in fact, considering you are only able to move up little more than a half body length per piece.

Myself moving up the steps of my aid ladder

Tyler and Scott ascended the rope to my position and we set off to take on the next pitch. Tyler styled the roof naturally...made the whole thing look easy. Scott went next and cleaned the gear up to Tyler's position, while I in the back ascend the rope in thin air. The next pitch Scott took on while we hung of the anchor. It was dark by the time we reached the top, our head lamps shined through the night and our rappel to the ground. When we went to pull the rope from the ground it managed to get stuck on the route and forced us to leave it and come back the next morning to re-climb the route and free the rope.

So the next morning Scott quickly free climbed the first pitch. I then aid through the giant roof to the second anchor and freed the stuck rope from the night previous. Aiding through a roof requires some trust in your gear. You are hanging 150 ft off the ground hanging off mechanical advantaged gear stuck in the rock... you have to trust your gear and you have to place it well!!!

Dangling 150 ft up on the lip of the roof on "Organasm"

Upon getting to the top, Scott and Tyler had a plan in mind...to free climb the first pitches including the daunting roof. So I belayed from the anchors above while Scott free climbed up to the roof, risking a big swing into open air. Meanwhile Tyler snapped video on rappel while Scott powered through the 5.11c/d roof triumphantly, with tourist below snapping pictures.( seethe video below!)



Tyler then made his attempt and was out on the lip of the roof, fell, got back on the rock and finished it. Knowing my ability level was not interested in attempt on my part. It was a long day for us all and we went home excited as children at our adventure.

Studying up for our next adventure...

The next day Tyler and I packed our gear and made preparations for the climax of the trip...a 3 day, 2 night ascent of Moonlight Buttress via the route "Lunar Ecstasy". In the meantime, we made this day a rest day and hiked up the "Narrows" of Zion canyon. Putting on wetsuits we hiked up wading in the river as Zion Canyon narrowed to 3-4 arm spans wide and the walls rose up 1500 ft from the river.

Light piercing the shadows of "The Narrows"

It was surreal and so pristine.... I walked awe-struck to the extent of silence...lost for words as we forded the river and passed through the piercing sunlight and shadows of the towering the walls.

More canyoneering in the Narrows