“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.

I’ll take the opportunity here to also give Dave credit for being an all-around great guy to boat with - super-competent kayaker, and “We’re in no hurry here” is the typical response to me scrabbling around last minute in my gear bag for gloves or dog food when a lot of people are getting into their boats and getting ready to paddle.

They make some good points on the blog, such as that it’s helpful to always bring a waterproof flashlight (I think they had a hard portage out that lasted until nightfall) and lots of rope, which they needed for the boat extraction.

Seeing as this happened just after some of the group had gone downstream past the landslide point, they were incredibly fortunate to have all made it out OK!

I really like the part on this video where she talks about how we only have one shot at this life - it starts at 3 mins 20 seconds into it, so if you don’t have time to watch the whole thing I recommend at least fast-forwarding to that part.

Ouch, ouch, and ouch.

So is it foolish to kayak on Friday the 13th?  I’m not superstitious, but as I was heading out to boat that morning I remember thinking how ironic it would be if there ended up being river carnage that day.  As it turns out, I was front and center in the carnage department, but at the same time it was relatively minor, so I’m seriously grateful to have been able to learn a lesson without totally sidelining myself for months.

Anyway, here are some thoughts I’ve had about what happened:

It’s easy to get used to getting away with things.

What happened is that I ended up breaking 3 ribs when I got T-boned by the bow of someone’s kayak while they were surfing and I was coming down a wave train.  It flipped me over and I remember thinking, ‘Holy smokes, I think I really got hurt this time’, but fortunately I was able to roll up and get over to an eddy.  Now apparently (as I’ve heard since then) there’s a river rule that says the upstream kayaker has right of way, but let’s be real - there also has to be an unwritten rule that says the upstream kayaker should avoid acting like a bonehead, and I know I had enough time to get out of this person’s way - I just was being a little lax about paddling hard.  Usually you get away with that stuff with some flips and apologies, this time I didn’t.

Snow billows through Index as we put in.

Little mistakes can have big consequences.

I think for most kayakers it’s a lot easier to consider getting hurt and dealing with pain than it is to think about the amount of time they’ll have to take off of paddling.  They told me six weeks and I’m hoping it’s four, but poor Fish Waidelich, who’s an amazing kayaker, dislocated his shoulder recently and is out for months – recently he was on Professor Paddle begging people to take him down river in a raft, and (paddlers being the people they are) he got lots of offers right away.  But seriously – from what I hear, he got hurt on a class III section, and he’s a class V paddler.  So I guess it’s worth keeping that kind of thing in mind.  Although at the same time, if you think too much about what can go wrong you’ll never leave the house.  (Martha Stewart reruns, anyone? )

Your paddle group is your lifeline.

I was fortunate to be paddling with a great group of people who did everything they could to make things safer and easier.  Everyone took the time to figure out what was going on, Brett Barton carried both his and my boat off the river and through the woods for half an hour up to the road, the guys from Peak 7 happened to come along and give us a ride up to Index, JP and Dave Morales drove me back to my house, and Dave didn’t make me feel bad about committing his afternoon to taking me to the hospital when it turned out  I couldn’t drive.  You seriously want to paddle with people like this.

We are blessed with amazing capacity to heal.

I know most people know that, but I have to emphasize – I am completely mind-boggled at how much better I feel just over a week later.  When I got to the hospital on Friday I could barely walk, and on Sunday I couldn’t clear my throat, even on Percocet.  By Wednesday, however, I was off of painkillers and actually tried a slow jog (then got walloped on Facebook by my clear-thinking friends.)  Today is nine days later and I can breathe in just fine – sneezing is not agonizing, I can run (although I’m not) and I’m just watching out for my left arm and shoulder blade, which I can tell will take longer.  If you had told me last Sunday that I’d feel like this today, I would have snorted in disbelief – and then toppled over in agony.  It’s truly amazing.

So in the end…

I’m not trying to sound like Polyanna.  It’s not fun to have broken ribs (other than the outpouring of sympathy, including fellow paddler Marilyn Ridings showing up on Sunday with a full grocery list and flowers – thanks Marilyn!)  But who are we kidding – any time you get the opportunity to learn a potentially life-saving lesson without losing a bunch of teeth or rupturing a shoulder (the point being, obviously, that you’d be off the river for a long time with those injuries ) there’s not that much to complain about, right?  I’m calling it good, and hoping to be smarter and better when I get back out there.

Clear skies and fresh snow on the way back.

Brian, Blake and Austin from Peak 7 Adventures at the Skykomish put-in in Index.

Yesterday three Peak 7 guys, Brian, Blake, and Austin, who are from Spokane and doing some local rivers this weekend, stopped on Highway 2 to give me and Brett Barton a ride into Index, and seeing as I had just broken 3 ribs and hiked off the river for 30 minutes I REALLY appreciated it – plus they had a truck crammed full of kayaking gear, so it was nice of them to fit us in.  (By the way, the reason I call myself a bonehead in the post title is that the accident was totally my fault – but that’s another blog post… )

Blake gave me some encouraging words in the car about how he had bruised some ribs once and they really hurt but healed quickly, but after seeing me lurching around the car in Index his verdict was, “Umm, you should probably get that checked out.” :)

Anyway, the Peak 7 motto is “Challenging the Body, Engaging the Spirit”, which I think is very cool, and their website is well worth checking out.  They’re also hiring a full-time Seattle area director, so if that’s up your alley click here for info – the application deadline is 12/15/09.

Self-taught and unstoppable.

You might recall that a few months ago I posted about Stephen P., who joined us on a Class III Skykomish run after having done just a couple Class I-II runs before that, and who amazed us all by having a self-taught roll that turned out to be a really good hand roll (he would just ignore his paddle or toss it completely.)

Well, about a month ago when the Sky was still pretty low I was getting out at the Split Rock take-out when I thought I saw a familiar face pulling up and there was Stephen, getting ready to do laps of Boulder Drop with a friend.  It totally cracked me up because I asked him what lines he had been taking, Airplane Turn or through the Needle, and he just goes, ‘Umm, I don’t really know the names, I’ve just been going around that one big rock and past that other one…’  With all the analyzing and sweating that most people (myself included) do over that rapid I just love hearing that someone simply shleps down there and runs it.

Anyway, thumbs up to Stephen, he’s apparently progressing at the speed of light.  I think he’s even finally taught himself a paddle roll.

Never mind that I’ve gone upside down and backwards over, well, more ledge drops than I can think of, including the last section of Boulder Drop.  It still always amazes me how easy it is to lay yourself up from kayaking doing something completely ridiculous.

Here are a few of my experiences this year:

Silly Kayaking Injury #1:  Tweaking a rotator cuff reaching for your purse in the back seat.

I was showing houses to a couple of clients and I even told them as I was reaching into the back seat, “This is a great way to tweak your rotator cuff”.  And then, ‘tweak’.  I was off kayaking for two weeks.

Silly Kayaking Inury #2:  Nearly dislocating your neck pulling a tight neck gasket over your head.

Beware of the semi-dry top that you don’t think is that hard to pull over your head because it’s not a real dry top, so you end up too relaxed.   I felt something go, and by the end of the day I couldn’t turn my head – it was ridiculous.

Silly Kayaking Injury #3:  Nearly stabbing yourself in the hand with the kitchen knife you’re using to get the plastic wrapper off of the ‘Kayaking Breakthru’ DVD.

This one I almost did last night.  It was a close call.  Good video though.

On a completely serious note, Ken Whiting has some really good advice on how to prevent whitewater kayaking shoulder injuries – I wish I had read this when I first started kayaking.  No mention about not stabbing yourself, but I guess that’s implied.