A note on the gauge: Based on our rough initial assessment, it seems like the gauge is reading a little low. Add perhaps 150 cfs to the internet gauge and 1.5 inches to visual gauge on the unit.

At the top of Peacock Mountain Pass from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

China was….very Chinese. The cities were hectic. The countryside was wonderful and the people among the most inviting I’ve every met. It was cold and windy, and, at times, surprisingly hot.  Not speaking anything other than a few basic words of Chinese, I spent a lot of my time wandering around, looking, watching, seeing.

The trip wouldn’t have been possible without Ben. He’s a close, good friend, a kayaking buddies and a former co-workers. He’s been living in Beijing for the last 8 months and studying Chinese for years and years. Ben had a month off for the Chinese New Year. I had enough cash to get there and barely enough to get back.

Ben’s command of the language was amazing and impressive. I met a few foreigners who couldn’t speak much Chinese. All planned to stick to the cities, following the tourist track from Beijing to SE Asia. None planned to venture far afield. With Ben’s skills we were able to experience truly unique places in Yunnan, places that are just being discovered by Chinese tourists.

During a twelve day portion of the trip, we met only one other Westerner. Towards the end of the trip Ben got us out of snow-bound town faster than a professional guide from France. We were stoked; and not just cause that was the only option for me to make my plane flight home.

Below is another quick video, taken on our exceedingly hectic trip back to Beijing. The battery cuts off at the end, the lighting is poor and the volume is low, but I think you’ll get the ideal. My advice to others who want to have an adventure in China: 1) If it isn’t in Lonely Planet, that’s probably where you want to go. 2) Never look like you are in a hurry, when the opportunity comes, strike fast. 3) If someone invites you to go to church, you really really should attend. That was one of the most special experiences of my life.

Waiting for a bus in the dark & cold from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

I’m currently writing a longer piece about the whole adventure. A lot happened and I want to tell the story. You will like it. Thanks for reading.

All photos courtesy of Benjamin Liotta

Dave Hoffman, Hagen Gorge, WA. Photo by Andy Lictenheld.

Writing this blog, I struggle with how to tell stories about kayaking. A little bit of me wants to appeal to my hardcore kayaker friends, to show them what I’ve done, to get them stoked and maybe a little jealous. A larger part of me wants share things that all kayakers can understand and appreciate. But most of all, I want anyone to be able to read what I write and understand what kayaking means to me. I want my family, girls I like, and my non-kayaker friends to get why love kayaking so much. And yes, I do have non-kayaker friends.

Fitting these desires together into a coherent narrative is highly challenging. Often I just can’t do it. Sometimes I do.

Saturday I paddled Hagen Gorge, a fun creek just outside of Portland. I took headcam footage of one of the larger rapids, Euphoria Falls. You’ll find the video unique. It captures a particular aspect of whitewater kayaking – running drops on verbal beta. In the right situation, kayakers will drop into a rapid with just some quick words to describe the moves and no scouting to get a closer look. There’s little I find more thrilling than running a rapid blind. Coming around a corner, seeing the rocks and the water and making decisions in quarter-seconds. Decisions that determine whether you are going to have fun or get hurt.

In the eddy above Euphoria, I give lingo-heavy information to Andy, in the blue boat. He’d run Hagen about 3 years ago but didn’t have a clear memory of the rapids. We charge off, I style the rapid, as does Andy. Below, we share exaltation at our good lines, the friends who surround us, and the special places we visit.

This is what I do. I hope you like it.

A little warning: During this video, I continue my awful trend of cursing up a storm while the headcam is recording.

Euphoria Falls, Hagen Gorge from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

Follow me on Twitter @riverlifestyle

I’d thought about running Metlako Falls for a while.  But only just thought about it.  I’d never even hiked the mile and half up to take a look at it, though I’d driven past the Eagle Creek trailhead dozens of times.  A handful of my friends ran it this spring and pronounced it amazing.

Metlako is a perfectly shaped waterfall.  A gently sloping slide launches down into a deep pool.  There is no entrance move to make, there is no exit to navigate, no cross-currents pushing sideways, nothing but a beautiful freefall to the deep pool below.  What holds me back is the same thing that inspires others to kayak it – Metlako is a huge waterfall.

The Forest Service sign states that Metlako is 150 feet tall.  It’s been measured from pool to pool at 101.  The height of freefall is often mentioned as 82 or 86.  I feel comfortable calling it in the range of 90.  Metlako is a huge waterfall.

Saturday, as I paddle Opal Creek, thoughts of paddling the more challenging Eagle Creek, home to Metlako, begin to creep into my mind.  At the takeout, someone asks if I’m going to run it.  I respond, “I am considering it,” but I don’t really know if I am.  I like to put myself in a position where I can say no to the drop and walk away if it’s not right.

That night I talk to Paul.  He wants to “run laps on Metlako.”  I find that sentence absurd and somehow wonderful. Paul is a badass.  We plan to meet the next morning at 9:30.

I am at the trailhead 20 minutes before Paul arrives.  I try to prep my gear.  I pace and pace and pace.  Ryan Scott pulls in with Paul and Ben Hawthorne in tow.  We confirm that we will just be going after the big one today. Metlako. Mentally, my momentum towards deciding to run the waterfall grows.  I begin hiking with my friend Josh, who grabs my camera and some of my gear.  With a kayak strapped to my back, sweating, I forget what I am doing and begin to enjoy myself.

We reach the overlook for Metlako and regroup, setting up positions for stills and videos.  Paul and I hike further along to where we’ll drop down to the creek.  Ryan heads down to the lip of the drop with Chuck.  They fix a rope so Chuck can safely get video of us launching into the abyss.  Paul and I wait until they are set.  It’s horrible.  Paul is pacing, as best he can over the uneven ground.  His hands shake.  Ben’s girlfriend asks us why we do this.  I say it is about fulfillment and challenge and some other nonsense.  I put my gear on and have trouble with zippers.  I fidget.  Ryan comes back up.  Chuck is set.

Frantically, I question Ryan about the pool directly above the drop.  He assures me that I could probably make it up and out if I don’t want to run Metlako.  This calms me immensely.  Paul and I head to the river.  We launch into Eagle Creek.

I botch the first warm-up rapid, Paul does the same on the second.  Even with these mistakes, it’s soothing to be kayaking.  Paul stops just above the drop. I exit my kayak and pull it up on the rocks.  It is so far to the bottom the distance is lost on me.  Stepping over it to get a better view, my toe stubs the cockpit rim and I stumble.  I grab the slippery rocks to keep from falling. My heart thunders in my chest.  I imagine bouncing down the rocks, then flailing for 100 feet before hitting the pool.  I make eye contact with Chuck.  His eyes are huge.

I give the thumbs up to Paul.  With little hesitation he charges off.  Several long seconds later, over the sound of cascading water, I hear screams of joy.

I ask Chuck questions:  How was did it look?  How was his landing?  Is he alright?  I receive slightly positive responses but, like me, he couldn’t see much from his angle.

I get in my kayak.  I tell Chuck that I will paddle upstream and come back down when I am ready.  I paddle up the narrow, verdant green walls of the canyon above Metlako.  I know am ready to run Metlako.  I don’t know if I want to run something this high.

Stay forward, be smooth.  Do I really want to do this? A boat-length above the lip I commit.  I am all focus.  Stay forward, be smooth.  Complete, unyielding focus.

Right stroke, left stroke, right stroke in the air to balance.  I look over my bow, see my paddle to the right and the pool far below.  It must be 60-feet down.

Hmmm, I guess I have time to let go of my paddle.  I open my hands and it flies away.

A pause.  A perceptible pause as I wait for the hit.   I see whiteness.  My vision goes blank as I impact.  Not black, just blank.

I am in the pool, trying to hand roll.  Yellow plastic blocks my vision.  Water falls on me from high above.  It is noisy.  My face hurts.  I realize the visor on my helmet has exploded downwards into my nose and left eye.  I try to rip it away as I hand roll.  I fail at both.  I see my skirt has imploded and my boat is full of water.  I push out of my boat, rip my helmet off and look upwards at the water cascaded downwards.  It is perfect.

Paul paddles over with my paddle as I find his in pool next to me.  I talk loud and fast and throw out a lot of “AWESOME!”s.  (Later, watching the headcam video, I remark that I sound stupid.  My friend says I sound like a little kid and I like that.) We share this special moment together, a unique time and place and emotion with another person.  Everyone else in the world is experiencing something different.  But we are sharing this amazing moment.  This is the first time Paul and I have gone kayaking together.

An hour ago, as we hiked up the trail to Metlako, the fear and nervousness had consumed us.  Directly above the drop we calmed.  As Paul charged off, I thought more and more clearly about what I was doing.  In the instant of commitment, everything comes into clarity.  Then you fall.

Kayaking Metlako Falls – Headcam from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

Scouting the top of Flight Simulator.  Mike points to where, an hour later, things will start to go wrong.

Mike Swims & Almost Drowns from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

Since June, I’ve spend a lot of time thinking about that day on the river.  The video explains a lot of what happened but below are some additional thoughts.

• No matter how bad a rescue situation gets, there is always something a victim can do to improve the outcome. Mike was exhausted.  He spent about 4 minutes swimming through more hundreds of yards of icy class 4/5 and he still managed that last burst of energy to drive himself to the shore.
• Towing a swimmer to shore is hard.  And in the situations you might think you most need to do so, it is even harder, if not impossible.  This episode reinforced my belief in the paramount importance of self-rescue.  Friends are great to back you up, but if you end up in the water, you are you own best rescuer.
• Despite all that was happening Mike was calm.  I still smile when I think of him apologizing for causing me to get momentarily stopped by holes.  That was the worse swim I’ve personally witnessed and the calmest swimmer.  He kept his head and it made a huge difference.   I think a lot of that calmness was due to how much time Mike has spent (intentionally) swimming in whitewater while teaching swiftwater rescue and kayaking.
• Paddling rivers at high water is inherently more dangerous.  The lack of eddies and the continuous nature of the EFSF made rescue incredibly difficult for Mike once he ended up in the water.  I don’t think the river was too high to be paddled that day.  It was not flooding.  But it was certainly more risky than paddling at a moderate flow.
• A side point to mention is our complete disregard for Mike’s gear. No one was going after anything until we got him to shore.  We ended up getting his boat, lost the paddle, but these things are a minor part of the big picture.  I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen seven or eight folks charge after a boat when only one is going after the swimmer.  Don’t do that!
• Flush drowning is a real, legit hazard, even when paddling with a well-trained, close-knit group.

Defeated, broken-down, but alive.

The East Fork of the South Fork of the Salmon keeps going.

I’ve been looking at one particular waterfall for about a year now.  Part of it looks fantastic and part of it looks significantly less fantastic.  Getting there involves a remote hike and rappel into a steep, narrow gorge.  Loose rock abounds.  Last week, on my way out of the gorge, as I was ascending a rope, I knocked a rock loose.  It hit my hand and fun ensued.

I’m starting to thing maybe I shouldn’t kayak this watefall…

For those of you viewing at work: The video is graphic and my narration contains several naughty words.

Dave is stupid from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

Best Days Kayaking 2009 from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

Check out some of the best days I had paddling in 2009.  And really, I was quite lucky this year, getting a lot of days on a lot of quality whitewater.

With this sick weather forecast for Portland, I am going to have a couple more great days before the year is up.  Going to scout some waterfalls tomorrow!

-Dave

El Dub Headcam from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.

The Little White Salmon River is heaven on earth for whitewater kayakers.  It has it all – technical boulder garderns, fun ledge drops, an epic waterfall, the clearest and bluest water I’ve seen and complex never-ending rapids, all set in a beautiful remote gorge that tumbles down to the Columbia River.  Many kayakers have moved to Hood River, OR for this river alone.  The Little White, LW for short (say “el dub”), is an addicting stretch of water.  I have several friends that pretty much refuse to paddle anything else;  if they can’t kayak the LW, they might as well not kayak anything at all.  I put together this short little video to show how amazing this place is.

But the LW is very hard.  I believe it to be the hardest commonly run river in North America.  Pretty much every day the water levels are right, several people kayak this river.  Water levels are good generally from late fall or early winter through mid summer.  There are a lot of days with many river miles being logged on this run. And the LW is dangerous, with nasty spots lurking in nearly every rapid.  At least five kayakers, and probably more, have broken their backs running Spirit Falls, the signature waterfall of the river.  This summer, a local paddler and all-around awesome guy, Ryan Morgan, lost his life on the LW.  Unfortunately I had only paddled with him once and didn’t get to know him well, but he had a great reputation for being full of life and joy to kayak with.

The Little White is a special place.  Those who have paddled the LW know.  I hope many more get to paddle this river safely and know it like I do.

Great Falls Headcam with a swim at the Spout from Dave Hoffman on Vimeo.
It’s been a great week on the Potomac River.  I’ve surfed some fun waves with my best friend and our mentor, Bruce Uthus.  I paddled with John Haddock, a good friend who I hadn’t seen since Costa Rica in 2007.  Despite difficult logistics, I was lucky enough to take Mike Long down the Falls for his virgin run. Mike’s a good friend and fellow kayak instructor from Oregon who happened to be visiting DC the same week as me.

Plus, I took a beating on the Spout, a picturesque waterfall on the Virginia side of the Falls.  This reminded how much I love warm water and that it’s nice to have an occasional reminder of what drowning is like without any negative consequences. It was captured on my GoPro headcam for your viewing pleasure.  Enjoy!

Here’s a video my roommate Mike put together from Tuesday’s run of Lower Lewis Falls.  Enjoy and have a great weekend! -Dave

]]> http://www.theriverlifestyle.com/2009/07/quick-video-from-lower-lewis-falls/feed/ 0