Spring Creeking: Lester Laps

The sun shone brightly as I awoke late in the morning basking in my freedom from responsibility. Every day I found found myself amongst the rivers waters. Chris Baer had drifted into town from Colorado for the sole purpose of boating and the two of us had of schedules and priorities straight. While spending the early afternoon scoping drops near Superior WI. As the afternoon sun began to fall in the sky we pointed the truck in the direction of the St. Louis. But when a text wrang out exclaiming that the Lester had broken free of ice and was running... we abruptly pulled a U-turn and headed for Duluth proper.

Footage via Chris Baer captures the essence of Lester River... look for me in the green boat, blue drysuit, and red paddle.

Lester River from Chris Baer on Vimeo.



Arriving at the Lester a crew quickly amassed and myself, Chris Baer, T2, Brian, Strassser, and Anthony shuttled for the first lap on Lester River for the year. We put on and dropping into Limbo Falls I immediately was knew the run was going to go well. When we arrived at Almost Always, the convoluted 25 ft falls, \given it was the the first run of the year, I new that the level was not to my liking... I would patiently wait to run the drop. By the next day the levels had risen to a comfortable medium high level and I grinned as we put on. When we arrived at Almost Always my mind was made up. I scouted as Chris styled his line over the falls. I followed up next peeling out of the eddy sighted my line and stayed focused. I dropped into the mini eddy above the falls lined-up and paddled for the lip. I placed a left boof stroke at the lip and sailed into the air landing on top of the piling waters. As my world entered the vertical I felt the boat begin to spin out leftward. I braced hard as the impact was impending. I was blown onto my back deck and soon tucked, waited for the calm, and rolled up triumphantly. After another lap and my confidence bolstered, I ran Almost Always again with improving lines (no roll needed). Techno Tommy arrived at the river late as the sun was about to set and needed a paddling partner. Being tired but still invigorated I agreed and we bombed through my third lap on the Lester!

 Tending wounds on the Lester!

By the next day, I had been paddling 9 days straight without a rest day and fatigue was beginning to greet my body. I told everyone I would take the day off and set about scoping the more northern rivers. But when I arrive back at the Lester their was a party still going up for a lap. I jumped in a truck and headed up stream. Putting on I could tell I was not on my game. By the time I had portaged "Naked Man". Our group became fractured and I found myself paddling virtually alone. When I arrived at Almost Always I had caught up to Chris. I made a quick decision and decided I would run it. As I came to the lip of the drop I saw a red boat pinned on the left lip of the falls. I found myself blasting into the micro-eddy with too much speed, and it spun my boat sideways as I approached the lip of the falls. With all my strength, I helplessly threw a monstrous sweep stroke and barely pulled the boat around as I plunged over the lip. Amongst the wash of exploding vertical waters I ready myself for the impact. I blewthrough the hole at the base emerging unscathed without a roll in need. I released the tension in my gut with a "whoop" of triumph and smiled at the waters ahead.

Flirting with distaster on Almost Always!

Over the course of three days I had lapped Lester river five times and ran Almost Always 3 times. Every night I went home my spirit felt fattened and obese with contentment... living the most fortunate of lives.

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 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.

Surfing Lake Superior: Day 2

I woke in the early AM hours and put on my damp wetsuit and dry top. Seeing the sun shining warmly through my windows woke me up as I headed out the door. I loaded up kayak and was off with my fellow paddler for the wave riddled shores of Stoney Point on Lake Superior. We arrived to find that the stillness of the morning had slowed the winds and lessened the size of the crashing waves. Yet having seen a few sets break, we deemed paddling well worth getting wet.

They were nice clean 3 ft breaks just fun enough for a nice ride, but having no wind you had to work for your waves very little. It was balmy in temperature as we surfed and watched as the sun rose from it's lowley position until it was high in the sky. Blue skys complimented the crystal clear lake. It was a gorgeous day of non-strenuous surfing, and I was thankful for every minute of it....

Having trouble viewing the video...click this link to view: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jwc8mHG1WmA

Surfing Lake Superior: Day 1

The April gusts brought grey skies and rolling waves to the shores of Lake Superior. Suprisingly I stepped out my door, kayak and paddle in hand, to find it warmer than expected. I jumped in my fellow adventurer's vehicle, and raced for the body of water that so beautifully graces Duluth.

When we reached Lester river we could see the large waves curl towards the shore line in long breaks. Having seen a few sets come in it was clear we needed to get on the water. Clad in neoprene from head to toe we set off into the wind swept waters. We paddled furiously against the breaking waves and broke through their peaks until we were past the break line. There we found we were not alone seeing five surfers on their boards working tire-less for the prize of a long ride.

With this same goal in mind I paddled hard, and found just what I was looking for. It is an indescribable feeling, dropping over the crest of an 8 foot wave and carving down its slope as it curls down and crashes around you in a explosion of water. For a small momentum you're blinded then you emerge from the spray surfing sideways in the continuing wave of whitewater then carefully placing a paddling stroke and turning an edge to turn slide down the wave backwards: watching a wall of water curl up and reach out for you as it block your view of the dark horizon of sky and water. You couldn't ask for a more exhilaratingly beautiful scene...

After leaving as darkness slowly crept upon us, you felt like an excited little child having just discovered candy: speaking in half sentences usually ending within exaggerated exclamations of awe at the experience. That night when my friends asked me what I did, there came the normal frustration at my inadequacy to conveying the experience of surfing a wave... then suddenly finding a better way to describe the undescribable... I let out a sign while I smiling wide and stared off into the distance.

The Quest For The Cadbury Egg

Every spring, out of fantastical childhood dreams and the reinforcement of TV advertizing comes into existance a rabbit that lays delicous chocolate eggs filled with a dilectable white creamy frosting filled yolk. Biting into one of these eggs, one couldn't keep the taste from reminding them of the sweetness of spring, the resurrection of Jesus, the coming daylight, multiplication of rabbits, and.... fertility. Of course, with absolutely no seriousness I am refering to the Cadbury Egg...straight from the British shores of...um...Cadbury? It is the quintessential Easter candy.

Anyhow, this year having attained an age far past childhood, I recieved no Easter candy this year. Having the rising feeling of deprivation, I decided that the week after Easter would be the best time to make a killing on Easter candy and satisfy my insatiatable desire for Cadbury Eggs.

And so the night of April 10th, I set off for my adventure filled quest to obtain Cadbury Eggs. At my side I brought two companions of the utmost stature when it came to Easter candy shopping. The first stop was Cub Foods, which left me empty handed with the exception of some lowly starburst jelly beans. Next we arrived at Super One Foods, and reflective of the quality of the establishment: they had absolutely no Easter candy. Next came Target, which was also devoid of Cadbury. Then having entered the infamous Walmart store, it became apparent that China hadn't found a way to bypass the Cadbury Rabbit and manufacture Cadbury eggs, for it too was empty of Cadbury. We then stopped at a Walgreen's...it was closed, then another Super One Foods...nothing, no Cadbury.

So in a last desperate attempt I drove down another Walgreen's in a less then pretty area of Duluth...and there in urban ugliness shined a little light... for there I found half price Cadbury Eggs at 25 cents a piece. I left the store with my bag filled with 40 eggs knowing that I would have enough to have the a taste of spring for months to come...

Whitewater Kayaking the Knife River

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.

Quinzee Winter Camping

When I grew up in a normal winter we'd get 100+ inches of snow in a season. As kids we knew exactly what to do with it: Go skiing, sledding, have snow ball fights...,and of course, build snow forts!

With snow falling continually over the last 3 days amounting to over a foot of snow, I decided that a snow fort would be in line. To add to the fun I'd sleep in it over night. So I built what is called a "Quinzee". It's not an igloo, because they are made of blocks of ice or snow. A "Quinzee" is built just like the forts of my youth. You shovel a huge mound of snow, let the snow set up, then you dig in and hollow the inside out. So I created a 3 person "Quinzee" in the woods nearby.

The next night, at 9 o'clock my 2 buddies and I met at the quinzee, sleeping bags in hand, and well dressed. We set up: put a tarp and sleeping pads down, slid inside, and zipped ourselves in our sleeping bags. We had carved a hole in the ceiling for ventilation (you can suffocate if there isn't proper air flow). The snow insulated very well, and I was very warm in my sleeping bag all night. The one infraction to my sleep was that they're wasn't much room to move with three of us in there...but I eventually fell asleep.

I awoke a 5:50 am to a cell phone alarm, and looked around. The inside of the Quinzee had melted about a quarter inch which looked to have fell as condensation, making the outside of my sleeping bag wet. One friend was wet and cold in his bag. Now getting dressed in the cold dampness with probably my least favorite part of this adventure...but it was a necessary evil. I emerged from the Quinzee to find a beautiful blanket of 3 inches of powder outside. I packed up and walked the mile back to the car with a bit of a smile as a tired expression of contentment.

Skating Lake Superior

I never know what each day has in store for me, but the discovery of thick smooth ice on Lake Superior brought an idea to mind. At work, we had already talked of mounting bindings on our nordic skates, and the discovery of ice solidified the decision. Nordic skates are long ice blades that you can mount cross country ski bindings on. You can thereby use these skates to mimic cross country skiing. So today my buddy called me up to let me know he had mounted the demo skates, and was going to go for a spin...and flew down in my car to do the same. When I strapped on the skates it was a blast. With ski poles and the skates you could get moving blazing fast! However, skating over 6 inches of ice and clearly seeing the bottom of Lake Superior was kind of scary and fascinating all at once. So I took off...The thing about skating on Lake Superior ice is that the big lake has created all sorts of cracks, ripples, and rifts for one to dodge (not to mention the rocks people throw onto the ice near shore). So on my maiden voyage I made it about 2 miles before I reached a giant rift. The rift had managed to let some water up... so there was about a foot of water on top of the ice near the edges of it. It looked impassible, so I cruised back to the shop. (story continued below...but check out the video in the meantime!)

The Rift

The Maiden Voyage

So with the excitement of it all I had to go for one last spin before the sun went down. As I got down and put on the skates, another fellow on nordic skates cruised. With him as my guide we made our way toward the impassible rift. He was an older gentleman, and had explained his extensive adventures on the ice thus far and extrapolated his need for elbow, knee and hip pads as a result of his experience with the ice. So we made our way along a different route, approaching the rift near the ice houses parked along side it. So we asked the fishermen if they found a way across...and they directed us towards one small crossing. My new found companion went first crossing the seemingly harmless gap. As I crossed my left foot broke through!!! Moving fairly quickly, my foot and ankle took more of an in and out swim for only a brief moment. My boot being waterproof, we continued on our way. My companion decided had decided he'd turn back, and I bid him a good day while I continued onward.

The Second Voyage

I made it across more rifts, finding great ice. However, near the Lester River seeing another sketchy rift, observing my frozen boot, and hearing the crackling boom of the ice naturally shifting...my wits got the best of me. I turned back and cruised homeward. As the sun set the horizon aglow, I stepped off the lake with a huge smile on my face......and a little more bounce in my step.