During our second Willow trip in early May we did our normal scout from the highway bridge above the canyon and hiked up through the snow, with a view of the river most of the way. It was clear, although noticeably much higher than the last time at about a +3 on the gauge. Around +5 House Rock is completely underwater and forms a huge hole which makes paddling for experts only. We put in and paddled First Drop and a couple of small rapids which I found I couldn't relax in, the boat was tippy and I was capsizing a lot in the pushy water. It made me nervous.
I peeled out of an eddy and went to take the next eddy downriver, blew it totally and then missed the next several as well, I wasn't being aggressive enough in the faster water. When I did eddy out I sat trying to collect myself. We were already in what was normally Diamond Wave, but all the normal features of the river were flushed out at this level. I found myself uttering the immortal line from "Jaws" - we're going to need a bigger boat. Something with a motor would be helpful about now.
The more experienced guys offered some advice about leaning hard forward as my stern was catching and flipping me. I tried and it helped but not by much and by the time we made Surf City - also washed out - I was not having fun. My friend Matt suggested I bin it and hike out of the canyon before it became too vertical around Freak My Beak. Having no ego (and no courage) whatsoever I looked at the eddyline we were behind, looked at the climb out, and said yeah ok.
I regretted the decision almost immediately. Although the canyon wall wasn't vertical it might as well have been, carrying a boat and paddle. It took most of my strength and a considerable amount of time to climb out. Once at the top I was then left with hacking my way through forest that still had a thick layer of snow, I was also on the opposite side of the canyon to the cut trail. At one point during my fight to get out I thought I heard a yell from downriver, but was too tired to pay any attention.
Cutting through back to the road finally I was convinced the guys would all be asking where on Earth I'd been, but after hiking back to the truck I found that they'd encountered a river-wide log below the Beak, wedged into the canyon. My friend Ty had got his bow jammed under it and more or less ended up doing a handstand on the log to try to escape, his boat pinned by the force of the water butting up against it. It was looking for a short while like an impossible rescue would have to be mounted, but Ty got free, paddled up a nearby eddy and then down and over the log in the middle where it was lowest. The yell I heard had been Ty whooping with relief.
The guys were all made up that I'd called it a day (despite my tall tales of how hard the climb was) as no one wanted to think about what would have happened if I'd flipped over on Freak My Beak and hit the log upside down. Apparently during the last twenty years the club had often discussed the blind drop down the Beak, and what would happen if a log came along between the scout and paddling the drop. This was the first time it had ever happened. We'd been lucky.
A week later and looking for some alternatives since the Willow was out, we were sitting in an eddy formed by a log jam and trying to catch Walsh Wave on the Nechako River when the whole wood pile gave way and swept down into the eddy. It all happened slowly and I watched it floating my way, wondering if I could tuck into the shore and avoid it, when I noticed Matt and Ty paddling like crazy for mid-river. So I followed suit. Later on the same trip Matt got his boat jammed under a branch, but managed to work free of it.
Lately paddling has been on the Bowron River with a few decent surf waves in at these kind of water levels. The last run was a strange affair where Matt ran shuttle for Ty and me on the easier Boulder Run, then I ran shuttle for Ty and Matt on the harder Portage Canyon section. There was a new trail to the put in and it involved me having to drive someone else's truck through a forest, essentially. To start with the trail was visible, although there were small trees in between the tyre tracks and I had to flatten them. I winced as they scraped down the bodywork and under the transmission. Nearer the river, the trail vanished and it was just thinly spread trees and grass. I dropped the guys and then drove the 45 minutes or so up the service road to the take out.
The road only exists as a path to the river for boaters so there is literally nothing there, 30 odd kilometers into the bush. To help the totally alone feeling I pictured scenes from "Deliverance" for forty minutes until the guys showed up, looking pretty stoked to have done a new part of the run. I'm not sure if that's the furthest I've been from civilisation before. It certainly felt like it.
Meantime I just picked up a new boat, it's a much longer and narrower sea kayak which I put on the water for the first time today. Aside from being chased across the lake by mosquitoes it made a nice change from trying to paddle ultra-short boats in a straight line. I was impressed by the speed, and for a long boat it turned well too. With three weeks to go before the planned Bowron Lakes tour I'm hoping to get a chance to take it out fully loaded for a test.
More soon!
Frase.
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