What really struck a chord with me though was what she says starting at around 4:20 mins into the video, when she’s talking about her approach to doing something this difficult:

“The key to climbing outside is just looking at a line and thinking that it looks fun and going for it – not having to have a grade correlate with your ambition to try something.”

Substitute “kayaking” for climbing and “class” for grade, and I think it’s something most boaters can relate to, both in terms of maybe not forcing yourself to do something just because it’s rated as difficult, and also not being afraid to try something just because it is – and, not to mention, remembering to have fun.  (Granted, climbers are roped in whereas boaters will always be dealing with that pesky inability to breathe underwater thing, so I still think we have more to deal with – but there’s a good point here.)

Team River Runner is a stellar non-profit organization that helps wounded veterans and their families “find health and healing through whitewater” by teaching them how to kayak.  My kayaking friends from Texas who came out here last summer (on a trip I have yet to blog about, of course) – Ben Kvanli, Jennifer Kerr and Kelly Howard, are all really active in their local TRR chapter and you can help raise money for their efforts by clicking “Vote for this idea” on their Pepsi Challenge page.  (You can log in with a Facebook app, or just create a free account with Pepsi, which is what I did.)

HERE’S THE LINK TO THEIR PAGE where you can vote every day during May 2011, and here’s a short video giving a rundown of what they do.

We had a blast doing a low water Skykomish run when Ben, Jennifer and Kelly came out here last summer, and Ben (U.S. National Team member and former Olympian in whitewater slalom) was nice enough to give me some pointers on the way down, can you beat that?  I had jury duty or something after that, but Mike Harms stepped in and with true Pacific Northwest hospitality showed them down Tumwater over the next couple of days.

Jennifer Kerr, Ben Kvanli and Kelly Howard on the Skykomish River, WA

Anyway, please remember to help them raise funds for Team River Runner by voting for their idea on the Pepsi site, you can vote every day during May 2011 – they need to be in the top ten ideas to win funding.  Also, if you live in western Washington and are looking for a local Team River Runner chapter give me a shout through the Contact section of this blog and I’ll put you in touch with the people doing it here.

Classroom stuff at Central WA University

One of the really useful things as far as improving your own paddling during the class is that you get videotaped on the water and then everyone critiques you later.  When you take the class with Chris, the additional bonus is that you might also end up staying at her house, like we did because we ended up on the Skykomish River for the last few days, in which case pretty much anything could happen – impromptu haircuts, hanging out with a huge bird – you name it.  Pics below.

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Dave Moroles testing out Lunch Hole on the Skykomish

Scott Henderson posted a really poignant account a while ago on Professor Paddle about how he nearly didn’t make it out of a hole on the Middle Middle run on the Snoqualmie – a mostly Class III run with a pretty easy IV section that most of us Seattle area paddlers are used to bombing after work without too much thought beforehand.

It’s really worth reading the thread – linked to here – not only because he shares a story that is not the easiest to share, but also because of the responses and advice that follows from other paddlers.  Here are some take-homes that I got from it:

Staying and Getting Out of Holes:

Based on this and some other stories I’ve heard, some of the closest calls you might run into could be on “easy”, Class III type water, and/or on a run that you’re really familiar with.  So don’t let your guard down.

If you’re stuck in a hole, balling up and letting yourself go deep instead of fighting the water should help you flush out.

From Scott’s post and one of the responses, it appears that if things go badly enough that you go limp you also have a better chance of flushing out.  (Let’s not kid ourselves, this option really sucks.)

Kyle Kovalik posted something that I’ve heard is also helpful:  “If you can get flat… swim accross the eddy line into the downstream current, rolling your body as you do (from a breast stroke to a back stroke or vice versa). This works best in flattish pourover style holes.”

Practicing swimming in whitewater is a great idea.  Not fun (I personally suck at it and tend to swim 5 times farther than anyone else, not on purpose) but definitely useful.

This isn’t meant to be an exhaustive explanation of how to get out of holes, but I’ve also heard (and kind of experienced when my sprayskirt blew on Lunch Hole on the Sky a couple days ago) that if you’re still in your boat, pulling your skirt and letting your boat fill with water is another way to possibly get out of a hydraulic.

Getting Back in the Game

Anyway, the main thing I got out of Scott’s post and the ensuing thread was not so much how to get out of holes (although that is useful), but more about the mentality of how to approach kayaking in general.  It’s such an intense sport, and when we’re into it we tend to fall in love with it and go full bore.  But, it’s also dangerous enough that we need to always be aware of the risks in order to last in it long term.  The flip side is, if we focus on those too much we’d seriously just stay home – it’s kind of like reading statistics about every innocent soul who pulled out of their driveway and got T-boned by some dummy going 110 miles per hour on a residential street, and then deciding to never drive again.

The reality is there – yes, it could happen (and getting caught in a vicious hole or pinned on some rock is probably way more likely than becoming a cautionary tale in suburbia) – but if you’re going to boat you kind of have to just take that as part of the deal.

Reading the Professor Paddle thread and from conversations with other boaters, it seems that nearly everyone has had a close call at some point and either had to deal with what is pretty much post traumatic fear, or even take some time off of boating to get their head back in the game.  Some of it is pure psychological conditioning (abject terror = very bad, do not repeat), so I thought the advice that John (doggievacation on PP) gave was good even though I overlooked it the first time I read it.  He said:

“… boat when you feel ready and stick to nice, familiar runs.  Make sure you have fun EVERY TIME you boat and steer clear of any drop that makes you feel panicky.  If you can do that, I think you’ll find the worm will fade on its own, but go with your gut and take your time.”

It usually takes time to get over traumatic experiences, and just like acquiring muscle memory for the roll, part of that psychological conditioning involves pure repetition – in this case, of something good.

Anyway, it’s really helpful to be reminded of how easy it is for any of us to become complacent on a run, or accustomed to getting out of hairy situations without too much carnage.  The fact is, the wrong hole at the wrong level, at the exact wrong angle that puts us in the wrong spot could happen to anyone, at any time, so I really appreciate Scott sharing his story.  It applies to all kayakers at any level, and it’s especially helpful coming from the viewpoint of someone who has had a lot of experience on whitewater.

That being said, paddling scared isn’t exactly a huge help either and there’s no way we can foresee everything on the river, so the best attitude is probably a good blend of realistic caution and a healthy dose of  ”Oh, what the heck.”  (I know I tend to focus on the latter because it requires less technical skill.)  Speaking of which, I’ve started dropping into Lunch Hole, a la Dave Moroles and Rob McKibbin.  If these blog posts end unexplainedly, that might be why.

Here’s one of Blair’s videos that shows what a workout a big hydraulic like Lunch Hole can provide, about two thirds of the way through it – it is a super sticky hole in the mid-3,000 cfs range.

I stopped in at the Friendly Foam Shop in Bellevue today to pick up some kayak outfitting stuff and thought I’d give it a shout out for our local kayakers.  They have a good selection of kayak outfitting type foam, ranging from thin pieces to 4-inch blocks.  Prices are reasonable, and Emy, the manager, was nice enough to give me some 8-foot long strips of 2-inch foam from the odds and ends pile for just $5 each – if you’ve shopped for foam recently you know that’s a great deal.

They’re right off of 520 in Bellevue, and also in the University district in Seattle – the Friendly Foam website has directions and hours.

I guess Itanda Falls is a Class V, I’d love to know if they took the hard route on here or the sneak route, and how hard it was for the level, etc.  You really can’t tell from the video, but if you watch it you’ll see that’s really not the point anyway.

“Someone was asking me about my class IV comfort level the other day, and my answer was something like “I’m comfortable that I can usually find an eddy to swim to.”  This inspired me to write, ‘Dave’s International Scale of River Difficulty’:”

Class I: Easy.

Fast moving water with riffles and small waves. Swimming is pleasant, shore easily reached. A nice break from paddling. Almost all gear and equipment is recovered. Boat is just slightly scratched.

Class II: Novice.

Straightforward rapids with wide, clear channels which are evident without scouting. Swimming to eddies requires moderate effort. Climbing out of river may involve slippery rocks and shrub-induced lacerations. Paddle travels great distance downstream requiring lengthy walk. Something unimportant is missing. Boat hits submerged rock leaving visible dent on frame or new gash in plastic.

Class III: Intermediate.

Rapids with moderate, irregular waves which may be difficult to avoid. Water is swallowed. Legs are ground repeatedly against sharp, pointy rocks. Several eddies are missed while swimming. Difficult decision to stay with boat results in moment of terror when swimmer realizes they are downstream of boat. Paddle is recirculated in small hole way upstream. All personal possessions are removed from boat and floated in different directions. Paddling partners run along river bank shouting helpful instructions. Boat is munched against large boulder hard enough to leave series of deep gouges. Sunglasses fall off.

Class IV : Advanced.

Water is generally lots colder than Class III. Intense, powerful but predictable rapids requiring precise swimming in turbulent water. Swimming may require `must’ moves above dangerous hazards. Must moves are downgraded to `strongly recommended’ after they are missed. Sensation of disbelief experienced while about to swim large drops. Frantic swimming towards shore is alternated with frantic swimming away from shore to avoid strainers. Rocks are clung to with death grip. Paddle is completely forgotten. One shoe is removed. Hydraulic pressure permanently removes waterproof box with all the really important stuff. Paddle partners running along stream look genuinely concerned while lofting throw ropes 20 feet behind swimmer. Paddle partners stare slack-jawed and point in amazement at boat which is finally pinned by major feature. Climbing up river bank involves inverted tree. One of those spring loaded pins that attaches watch to wristband is missing. Contact lenses are moved to rear of eyeballs.

Class V: Expert.

The water in this rapid is usually under 42 degrees F. Most gear is destroyed on rocks within minutes if not seconds. If the boat survives, it is in need of about three days of repair. There is no swimming, only frantic movements to keep from becoming one with the rocks and to get a breath from time to time. Terror and panic set in as you realize your paddle partners don’t have a chance in heck of reaching you. You come to a true understanding of the terms maytagging and pinballing. That hole that looked like nothing when scouted, has a hydraulic that holds you under the water until your lungs are close to bursting. You come out only to realize you still have 75% of the rapid left to swim. Swim to the eddy? What #%^&*#* eddy!? This rapid usually lasts a mile or more. Hydraulic pressure within the first few seconds removes everything that can come off your body. This includes gloves, shoes, neoprene socks, sunglasses, hats, and clothing. The rocks take care of your fingers, toes, and ears. That $900.00 dry suit, well it might hold up to the rocks. Your paddle is trash. If there is a strainer, well, just hope it is old and rotten so it breaks. Paddle partners on shore are frantically trying to run and keep up with you. Their horror is reflected in their faces as they stare at how you are being tossed around! They are hoping to remember how to do CPR. They also really hope the cooler with the beer is still intact. They are going to need a cold one by the time you get out! Climbing out of this happens after the rapid is over. You will probably need the help of a backboard, cervical collar and Z-rig. Even though you have broken bones, lacerations, puncture wounds, missing digits & ears, and a concussion, you won’t feel much pain because you will have severe hypothermia. Enjoy your stay in the hospital: with the time you take recovering, you won’t get another vacation for 3 years.

Class VI: World Class.

Not recommended for swimming.

OK, they’re not really whitewater kayaking quotes, but they should be.  I checked out Ky Delaney’s blog and she has a great article with quotes from 1800′s miners that apply really well to kayaking.  Check out the whole River Chica blog post for 1800′s miner quotes on ‘paddling the gnar’, ‘being a dirtbag’, and ‘on the topic of women’ – funny stuff.

Also, I have finally added OregonKayaking.net to the sidebar links, that is a great blog with many good river trip write-ups.