Exploratory run April 2005

…this sunday was the first day ever that the word “extreme” stomped through my brain for hours and hours. Sunday was probably in the top 5 days of my life. It ties with another paddling day from 1994 as the most exciting days of my life. Instead of just normal adrenaline which I don’t really feel too strong, I got crammed with fear-adrenaline, and 8 hours later I went to bed still twitching from the effects. It’s as if all the events of the day transpired in such a way as to give me the best day ever. We both thought we were just going to paddle at low water about 3 km of river that Jan had scouted 2 weeks ago and said looked good. Braden creek turned out to be continuous, verticle-walled canyon for 6 hours straight. We hiked down another, dry creek about 20 min to get to the put in then saw that it looked like low water so we decided to put in. We hiked back up to the truck, got into gear, and re-hiked down to the put-in with our boats. I had eaten 2 eggs and a piece of toast with a bit of cereal that morning, then some twizzlers and an inch of Jan’ sandwich before putting on. This, with the 2 chocolate bars I brought, would turn out not to be quite enough food for me.

So we put in and paddled and the whitewater was good, and the scenery was out of this world. Jan said, and I agree, that we were probably, in one of the 5 most beautiful places in the entire world. I MEAN IT! : Immense, old, smooth logs propped up and down and sideways, and submerged in clear, bright green water where, in the sun, you could always see the bottom no matter how deep it was. All this inside vertical to more-than-vertical walls with trickling waterfalls falling down and old-growth forests poking up way, way above us. And nearby, all manner of quartz-infused boulders and rock walls, striated this way and that. And the sun! It was warm and in spite of the vertical walls we spent most of the day in the sun.

So we got to this point where the river narrowed and flowed into a vertical log. Death. So we had to make decisions. We hiked up a lucky slot very high, and kept going up. This is clinging, slippery, grasping at shallow-rooted plants and struggling under the branches of old dead trees, hiking. I got to the ‘top’ of the canyon wall and the hike out would have been horrendous. AFTER the climb it would have been about 8 km of bush whack, in a plastic suit carrying 50 lbs of plastic. Nope

So we considered everything and the best option, we decided, was rapelling down 50′ onto some rock, then slippery climbing another 10 feet, then cliff-jumping into the river 20′ below and tossing the boats after. So Jan was shown, about 2 weeks ago, how to tie a belay knot. Thank God. We tied off onto a very sketchy tree that was wiggly and clinging to the cliff side, assuming that because the pull-vector was straight down, our weight on the rope would not yank the tree out of the cliff. So perched beside this tree we discussed the order of events and how to tie the knot and how to belay with it.

I went first.

So the first time ever belaying with my belay loop in my new life jacket, and the first time ever using this knot…the first time ever putting weight on this tree and on the throw ropes and the knots that attached the 2 throw-bags together, was done by me in the air, over top of nothing but air and rock. I was scared but I hid it.

My life jacket started ripping very early, on the way down. I heard threads popping and could see the belay loop rising up as it detached, slowly from my webbing. I could see, while still floating in space 40′ over rock, the frayed threads. I tried to smooth out my descent but the knot doesn’t slide smooth and I jerked down, each time, ripping more threads. I got down, jumped in the water (while realizing that I, probably am the first person in the history of mankind to be standing where I was, and doing what I was about to do). Again, don’t forget that I was in the most beautiful place on earth… I jumped in, Jan lowered me the boats and gear, then belayed down and jumped in. We saddled up and continued. During the rest of the day we both expected the river to end soon. It didn’t and we were forced to, under the pressure of time and diminishing daylight, decide whether to run drops quickly or to walk them. We wound up hucking and jumping about 4-5 times during the rest of the river. And the river just kept going. Jan flipped in a slot at the end and broke his paddle. OK though. We got out ok after all.

So what made it good. We had to make 1000’s of decisions that were critical. Our left foot right foot left foot placement on every slippery rock, while tying in to the belay, and hiking aroung the drops was critical. The amount of gear we had was critical and we used it all for it’s intended purpose. It was so much more than kayaking, it was a full fledged adventure that involved serious paddling, serious hiking and scrambling, serious swimming, serious rock-climbing, serious cliff-jumping, and seriously not enough food.

To top it off, Jan had to ride the steep shuttle back up to the put-in on his bike after all was done, and Shannon ate some human feces. I could smell the poop on her breath and it grossed me out. So we packed up and the perfection of the day continued: As we drove home from Port Renfrew along the coast the sun was setting and the sea was calm. I was late for supper and my girlfriend only held it against me until she realized how tired I was. Then I got a little sympathy. Not much, but a little.

Joe Box