Like all good stories, this one starts long before anything important actually happens and ends with a hidden philosophical insight into the meaning of existence. In this case, because this truly is a story about kayaking, it is just a plea to escape the monotony of a job; explore, kayak, drink, road trip, and be merry.
It all started about seven years ago on a well-fated rafting trip to the Thompson River in Canada with the Portland raft crew. That weekend I would meet Eric Sparwasser and my friend Mike Ross. We had just spent an excellent day on the river, by first big water experience. Kokanee beer used to have a yearly contest to win a free weekend rafting trip on the Thompson River. As luck would have it, we where camped next to the contest winners. It was a hell of a weekend, with free beer, a dj and dance club in the middle of the campground, and good boating. Needless to say all three of us have been going back to Canada almost yearly.
Jump to a few weeks ago, me sitting in an orientation for my new teaching position. After teaching all summer I had a three week break to go have some fun. Some blind administration decided to take this vacation time and schedule a three day orientation smack in the middle. To add insult they scheduled the first day the Thursday before Labor day weekend, and the second and third days Tuesday and Wednesday following.
Over the 3 day weekend we bolted to Whistler and back for three excellent days of play described in another email by Amy.
Then it was back for two more days on orientation. Then Wednesday night my sister Carrie, Mike Ross, and I jumped in the van pulling two kayaks, two inflatable kayaks, two catarafts, a bicycle, and a hell of a lot of gear. We veered into Hood River, ate some pizza, and began a 10 day trip to Canada. You could call this the crazy shuttle trip because I think we managed to catch a ride in every way imaginable.
First stop was Alberton Gorge outside of Missoula. We met two boaters at the put in and hooked up a shuttle through them. Even at this low flow there was plenty of play. The Catarafts where a little bored, but managed to throw a couple of surfs in.
Next day Glacier and the Middle fork of the Flathead at super low flows. It was boring at this flow compared to last year, but still worth doing because of the scenery. I was sitting on the highway after the run hitchin the shuttle when up pulls my friend Seth. Every time I go on one of these trips, I always meet someone I know. That just goes to show how small and close knit the boating community is.
We made our way across the going to the sun road and into Canada. Never cross into Canada in the middle of nowhere. Bored, they decided to take us upstairs and question us. My name is Shane Michael Horner and it seems that some guy named Michael Shane Horner has a warrant out for his arrest in Washington. We got buzzed by the power driven boarder guard. In my opinion the only person who would take a low paying, high stress job has no control over his/her life and has found a way to make up for it. Just three days before that on the way back into the US the guard kept yelling, “How do I know you are a US citizen? Hell if I know, because I hate authority figures like you. Anyway we made it
in. Just in time to get my sister into her first bar in the middle of nowhere. A quote in a current movie related to Alaska could just as easily be translated to a saying about Canada, “there are two types of people in Alaska, those who where born here, and those who come to escape something” All three passengers in the van are at all times very aware that we where not born in Canada.
Next day it was sight seeing in Calgary and driving to the Red Deer River. By the time we got there it was late and there would be no way to hitch the shuttle. I therefore drove the van around while Carrie and Mike ran the river and enjoyed a couple of Fosters and the take-out. Again a nice scenic river that would have been much harder at higher flows. Actually for the entire trip we found the rivers to be 1 class easier because of the late season low flows. That night we went partying in the local town. At the first bar we asked the bar tender where to go. She said there is a bar for the young crowd, a bar for
the old crowd, a bar for the sophisticated crowd, and a bar where everyone who couldn’t get into the other bars went. Boy did she call it. It was then that Mike first pronounced his almost Zen like quote, “how are you going to get drunk if you don’t drink?” And off we went. This would become the trips motto. Some highlights of the night included Mike and I answering the phone in one bar pretending to be the angry wife’s husbands and meeting a guy named Neuff. It was amazing that the wife would actually believe us for a while.
The area has a large number of oil rigs and drilling operations. We where having a hard time finding the low life bar when Neuff approached asking for some smack. We knew we found it. Neuff and his oil drilling buddies where liquoring up for there full day of work in the morning. A crazy bunch. It’s amazing the crowd that a high paying extremely dangerous job attracts. They kept inviting us to visit the oil rig in the morning promising beer but we managed to decline.
The next day was Banff, the only non-river day. Beautiful. The only true bummer of the trip was that Johnson creek trail was closed. I was hoping to see the two famous falls and maybe do a little kayaking between, but oh well.
Kicking Horse. 10 miles off extreme fun. In the middle is a hairy looking hole that is rarely run. We did the upper portion, hitched the shuttle, drove around the hole in the car and put back on the river. The run ends in the town of Golden and Mike hopped in a Taxi for the shuttle. We wanted a picture of him getting in the taxi with his river gear on, but we never got it done. The kicking horse was my favorite run on the trip. At this flow it was class 3 plus to 4. I could see that at higher flows the lower canyon is so continuous it would quickly reach class 5.
Next through Jasper National park, floated down the Atabasca, biked the shuttle, and partying in Jasper. I guess Canadian beer has higher alcohol content then US beer. The next morning we saw a heard of Elk and a giant bull walk through camp. I think I was the only one in the whole campground who was hung over enough not to find it very exciting. Pulling out of the campground I uttered my quote for the trip, “Pull over I have to puke again.” We still hadn’t made it out of the campground.
Next we ran the upper Fraser. We wanted to run the upper class 5 section but we couldn’t find any info. I still think there was a good chance it is only class 4 at the lower flows but nobody we talked to had run it. Instead we ran the lower class 3 section that has a twenty foot two-tiered waterfall in the middle. The guiding company at the put in ran the shuttle for us. Canadian companies are usually much friendlier to private boaters and are an excellent source of info and shuttles. I forgot my paddle in the van and thus portaged the entire run by taking a ride on the cataraft. Much to the delight of the
tourists, Carrie and Mike ran the two-tiered waterfall. Hopefully Mike will post the pictures soon (hint). Carrie quite interested in adding famous quotes to the trip report said, “I would much rather swim than walk.” A quote I had heard her say a few weeks earlier on the last drop of the Cabarton run on the North fork of the Payette. Their runs went very well and impressed the local guiding company and the dumb-founded tourists. I bet at least fifty photos of them are floating around in different people’s photo albums.
Next day the Clearwater. We made a detour into the Gray-Wells National Park. Beautiful. There are some amazing waterfalls in the park. I still want to run the upper Clearwater which flows out of the park. Our book says there are two mandatory difficult portages on the run. We found the last one, one of the biggest holes I have ever seen. The eddy was fairly easy to catch but a little scary none the less. The slide and hole combination is so powerful that this is the end of migrating salmon’s trip upstream. It’s a slide and not a waterfall, but it is so powerful that the fish can’t navigate it. We were unable to find the other portage from shore so we decided to try it again on a
different trip. The lower Clearwater still has decent play, but it is only world class at the higher flows. It was still a hell of a lot of fun.
Then we had a two river day!!! We ran the Adams (too boring to do again but fun anyway). There used to be a put in at a wooden bridge. It seems that the bridge was on reservation lands and it made the Native Americans mad that the locals where trespassing to reach there property on the other side of the lake. In a local power scuffle they had the last say and simply burned the bridge and put no trespassing signs up. So we launched from the new ferry, paddled across part of the lake, and ran the river. After a long day of driving we arrived at the Thompson River late that afternoon and made a quick run. I was too tired and out of my groove to surf the frog wave that was just starting to come in.
It looks somewhat hairy at the top end of its flow anyway. There was a solo boater out there makin if look sick though. Mike got a ride with a guide from the company in town. Mike gave him 5 bucks and the six pack of hemp bear that I bought as a joke (it tastes like crap, what did you expect). The guide was stoked.
Off we went to the Nahatlach River. We camped at one of the world class camping spots on its banks. At higher flows the upper run is a lot of fun and the canyon is burly. At lower flows the upper run is way too bony and the canyon is class 4. We where at the tail end of the medium flows and had an excellent time. The rafting company was at the put in practicing flipping and swimming with their passengers. They looked a little surprised that the catarafts could fit down the canyon. The cats styled it. On the biggest drop, the nozzle, the company’s photographer pointed his camera at us like he was taking pictures. We found out later that he was just waiting to see if the catarafts flipped and
didn’t take any photos. Ah well. I managed to bike the shuttle and drive the van down the one way shuttle road before the bus with all the boats came out the other way. It really would have sucked to meet them in the middle of the one way road. Well that was it. Off we raced back to Portland a day earlier then expected. Man one of these trips we will have to learn to slow down and run a river more then once. Then again maybe not.
Ah the story almost comes to a close. I’m sitting in an office, part of a full time job wondering “how did I get here, this is not me, this is not my beautiful house.” At all times I am reminded of the empty cameraman on the Nahatlach River. At one moment we are all alone exploring a secluded shale-canyon river. The next moment we catch an eddy above the crux drop on the nozzle only to encounter the multi-faced eye of a long lens camera God pointed at us. The photographer who is waiting for his local guiding company to run the nozzle promises to immortalize our decent by looking through the camera at us. We give him all we got: lights, camera, water, shale, some action, paddle shuffling? After finishing the run, I bike the shuttle, we carry the boats the long distance to the van and we drive out to the raft company to purchase our pictures: glossy details describing past events. Somehow we all know that a little of our soul is in each one of those prints. The road down to the lodge is a one lane steep slide full of washboards that shake the van and promise to spill its contents into the canyon. If this was an access road in the US, the rafting company would have paved and widened it many years ago. At the lodge the photographer explains that he didn’t snap any photos. He was just waiting for something exiting to happen, looking through the lens for a better view. As we shot out of the parking lot in the van, gaining momentum for the quick bumpy ride up the drive, I suddenly had a better understanding of why we are here. I’m still not quite sure if it is better to be waiting for the purchased pictures to eventually show up in the mail, or just to wait knowing that the photographs were never taken and they will never arrive.
Take care, Shane
