Stepping It Up

Sometimes you DO IT . . .
You get into the zone and JUST DO IT . . .


We didn't get much whitewater river kayaking in this winter, but somehow I stepped up my game from being a schizophrenic class II/III boater to confidently paddling some class IV.

I'm not sure how this really happened but suspect that it had a lot to do with the time that we spent this winter in the surf zone.


Capsizing in the surf zone when you are kayak surfing is inevitable and even a good strategy so needless to say a winter of kayak surfing meant lots of time upside-down and rolling in moving water.


When I started whitewater kayaking, my main goal was to remain upright. I was terrified of flipping and being flushed down a rapid upside down. Through experience, I have come to realize that a capsize and roll only takes seconds and that you don't end up way downstream in the process. It is almost like time stands still and you roll up in almost the same spot where you capsized. The key is confidence in your roll.

So this whitewater season, I surrendered myself to the inevitability of capsizing on the river. My mantra shifted from take the easy line and stay up-right to see your line and execute it. If things go to !@#$ - roll up and paddle to safe water.


On our Eel River Mountains to the Sea Paddle last month, We encountered a couple of stretches of Class IV. Our last paddle of the trip was on the Middle Fork of the Eel River at 3500cfs. The run was 25 miles of class II and then probably the hardest rapid that I have run yet in the class IV range.

We scouted the rapid and the middle looked downright ugly. It had 2 consecutive but slightly offset recirculating hydraulics - DEFINITELY not a place to be. Neither the left or right had a clear path but the left looked like the best route to take and not end up in the messy middle. Of course the left had 2 considerable hydraulics to be negotiated. The plan was to avoid the first and punch the other one (most likely capsize, flush-out, and roll-up) and enjoy the wave train finish.


Of course, I capsized on the entrance drop into the rapid - rolled up and eddied out. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP - I felt my heart beating through my chest. The thought "I could get out here and portage," shot through my mind. I erased the thought and told myself to charge it. I ferried midway across but should have ferried further to the left. When I turned to head downstream, I was heading right at the hole on the top that the plan was to avoid. I didn't have time to avoid it and tried to drive through it.

It grabbed me and flipped me. I rolled up and continued driving for my target rock on river left. I got there and somehow skirted the flush-out and roll up hydraulic. F - Yeah!!!


It might have been nice to run the lines cleanly, and I am sure that someday I will. But there is definitely satisfaction in nailing a combat roll in a critical situation - not to mention nods of approval from paddling companions.

Chicken Point

Pomo Bluffs is a headland on the south end of Fort Bragg's Noyo Bay. It is now a city park that has a nice paved walkway with interpretive information and amazing views of the Pacific Ocean. The north end of Pomo Bluffs where it juts out into the ocean is called Chicken Point.


Fishermen/women and urchin divers call it Chicken Point because that is where they go and look at the coastal conditions and decide if they are going out or chickening out that day.


Chickens is a name that local surfers have called it. It has a reef break that on a good day produces overhead to double-overhead waves with nice left shoulders. The trick is that surfing the break becomes a game of chicken with the rocks that are scattered within the break. Needless to say, one doesn't see it getting surfed too often.


Chicken Point is always a point of wonder and awe when we are kayaking in Noyo Bay. On a very flat day, one can paddle around the rocks of chicken point. It is beautiful and fascinating with a healthy and colorful intertidal zone and a rugged rocky backdrop.


On typical days, it is awesome to watch the waves roll through the reefs at Chicken Point. It is exciting to sit on the edge of the breaking waves and witness the power of the ocean engulfing the rocks. To those that surf, we are mezmorized by her dangerous beauty. We try to visualize a line to surf through the maze of spilling waves guarded by the rocks.

Jeff is not one to be disuaded by rocks and I remember the first time that he and our friend Josha surfed Chickens. WOW!!!


As we rock garden in Noyo Bay, Chicken Point draws us like a magnet. Surfing Chickens is a bit out of my comfort level, but I have become comfortable enough with the break to position myself on the edge to watch and take photos. I am always stoked to see those with the skill and the nerve get in there and surf her waves.


Jeff has been encouraging me to get in there and catch a ride. Several times, I have eased myself into the break only to withdraw (chicken-out) when looking at the wall of water building behind me and doubting whether I have the composure and skill to surf the wave and not be caught in the foam pile and swept into the rocks.


It is very fun to watch Jeff. Many days the waves are just to0 big and scary to even tempt me but I am drawn to the challenge and really want to be able to surf it. In preparation, I have started getting my rock gardening boat out more in the surf zone to hone my skills, focus, control - and most importantly my confidence.

Occasionally another paddler will be in town and be game for surfing Chickens with Jeff. Several weeks ago, a skilled whitewater kayaker and his girlfriend were passing through town and connected to paddle with us. Chicken Point lured him from the moment he drove into the parking lot of the beach. As we rock gardened and played in the bay, she kept beckoning to him.

His creekboat was not the idea craft but good paddlers have a way of making things work - check it out in this video (below but best if you click the link and watch on YouTube).




I have had this post in my mind since filming the guys this day but just haven't had the chance to write it. As I am writing it, I have had my first rides at Chicken Point under my belt. We don't have any photos or video to post, but I can tell you that I was not swept into the rocks and am now drawn even more than ever to surf Chicken Point.

Swimming the Eel River

The Eel River is on my mind this morning with many thoughts - we haven't been on it much this year - the Willits Water Festival next weekend - our upcoming trip on its wilderness stretches - and those warm sunny days kayaking it last spring.

The Outlet Creek to Dos Rios stretch of the Eel River has been described as a Class III whitewater kayaker's delight. It isn't run regularly by a lot of boaters due to its location in the northeast corner of Mendocino County and because it is primarily a rain-fed winter and early spring run (making it a foul-weather run that is often chilly). This stretch of the Eel River is quite special to me because it is where I learned to whitewater kayak (I probably should say am still learning).


Yes, my beginnings on this run were tormentous as many who were with us might recall. Fears and tears and of course lots of swimming. Jeff's patience and the strength of our relationship was definitely tested on our trips to the Eel River.


When we started running the Eel River, I was a SWIMMER (in several senses - one being that I was a life guard and water safety instructor who swam regularly for fitness and the other being that I swam most of the time when I capsized). Fortunately, I was a good swimmer and usually self-rescued by holding onto my gear and getting into an eddy and onto shore.

When we started boating on the Eel River, I had just relearned to roll. I had a decent flat water roll and was racking up combat rolls in the ocean surf and rock gardens; however, the river roll was eluding me. I hated capsizing for numerous reasons - the water was COLD, the air was COLD (problem with learning to boat in the winter), my playboat was not easy to roll, my kinesthetic senses were altered in the current, I was terrified of hitting my head on a rock, or being stuck in a hydraulic. Yeap - a TON of EXCUSES!

(I would like to say that more time on the river has cured these things, but I am sure that I will swim again on the Eel - afterall - we are all in between swims.)

My first season of boating on the Eel - I ran (swam) it twice and gave up on whitewater kayaking FOOORRREEEVVVEEER! It was too cold, too scary, and too frustrating.

I continued sea kayaking and rock gardening and then even started kayak surfing. I saw photos and videos of the beautiful waterways that people were whitewater kayaking and felt a little sad when I stayed home while Jeff and our paddling buddies went river kayaking.


In the winter of 2010, I became determined to master my fears and learn to whitewater kayak - so off to the Eel River we went. Some days we would just park and play (drill) on one rapid and others we would practice different skills while heading down river. I still managed to swim plenty; however, I rolled more than I swam. I am certain that I have swum every rapid on the Outlet Creek to Dos Rios section with the exception of Tunnel and CalTrans(Willow).

In our sessions on the Eel, I realized many of my fears - hitting my head on a rock (the helmet has a couple of scratches but I am no worse for wear -I think- and getting stuck upside-down in a hydraulic and working my way out without swimming -took 3 rolls but I did it).

The cold water is still a huge issue for me. The Eel River has some great surf waves and I so want to learn to surf, but I still prefer to keep upright in chilly fresh water. My kinesthetic sense underwater in current is improving with experience, but I still get disoriented. The Eel River has many firsts for me including my first combat river roll, my first time whitewater river kayaking without Jeff and I am excited about the prospect of my first multi-day wilderness whitewater trip. Will swimming be involved on this trip? I definitely hope so . . . when it is warm and sunny and not necessarily an out-of-boat experience.


Sorry - no photos or videos of my swimming on the Eel, but this video might show a bit of the character of whitewater kayaking on the Eel (notice the contrast between the gray days of winter and the sunny green days of spring).

Skunked

Maybe the skunk was an omen or just bad timing . . .

I've been looking forward to the Santa Cruz Paddlefest (formerly Kayak Surf Festival) since last fall when we made our 2011 calendar.

Jeff kept telling me about the magic of the Santa Cruz reef breaks. Spilling waves with great right shoulders and channels that were easy to paddle out. The attitude of Santa Cruz surfers though is world renowned so it is definitely a place to watch your P's and Q's. I was excited that the Paddlefest would give me the opportunity to paddle one of these fun breaks with minimal hassle.


We left for the contest a couple of days early to visit friends and family in the area and to get a day or two in of surfing. Our dogs, Bear and Aften, journeyed with us. Of course we left later than planned and enjoyed some lovely bay area traffic. It rained heavily for most of our drive. The rain lightened up when we reached the South Bay Area, and we stopped for beer and to let the dogs out for a stretch and pee-break in an empty parking lot.


Having had a good stretch and feeling thirsty, I called the dogs over to the truck. Aften trotted right over and I lifted her in. Instantly my nostrils were inundated with the smell of skunk. The only thing worse than your dog getting skunked is being on the road when your dog gets skunked. I too was pretty smelly. Fortunately there was a creek nearby and the grocery store was still open. I bought some vinegar and proceeded to give Aften a cold vinegar bath. It worked as well as could be expected.

At the time, I couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be an omen for our surf weekend.

Thursday, we made our way down to Santa Cruz and scoped out a couple of surf spots. It was warm and sunny with some nice surf. The peeling right handed waves were such a treat and I was a little remiss for not bringing my surf boat (I only brought my whitewater kayak due to space and because I was competing in the novice division which didn't allow high performance surf kayaks).

The weather forecast was for rain and high surf. Despite weather forecasts being consistently wrong all winter, Friday morning was as predicted - rainy and windy. Jeff was competing and my plan was to demo some boats and get a practice run in on the break that I would be surfing for the contest.


The surf was big and it was BLOWING. Quickly Plan B formulated. Dress in rain gear, watch a couple of heats, and enjoy a good book in the hotel room.

Saturday, I was to compete. I woke to the sound of the wind howling. A glance at the ocean showed whitecaps and thumping storm surf. I went to the prepaddle meeting and then looked again at the surf. Why was I here? To surf a fun break. Today looked anything but fun so I decided to scratch. It was a good decision but a hard one.


I watched what would have been my heat. Ugggg - no thanks. The wind was gusting. Most of the waves were storm chop and the main sets that came through were powerful. Hats off to the guys who paddled out there and tried to surf in our heat. They got a few foam pile rides but the green faces eluded them.


I was disappointed but wasn't totally skunked. Thursdays rides were so worth it and Jeff did well despite the conditions. Next year? We will see.