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Last article in the Slugs Tour series. Greg and Colin are now in California practicing their steep creeking technique...

Article by Greg Nicks for PLAYAK.COM, September 2003

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[ This article is a follow-up from the latest Slugs report ]

With Dave and Pete eliminated from the Slugs Tour through reasons of finance and injury the show goes on in California. I have to admit to being absolutely blown away with the quality of the kayaking.

The start of California was a jet lag induced haze. I had arrived from New Zealand on a Friday night and was duly picked up at the airport by Colin who had driven down from Canada in the newly purchased Toyota van. That night we were joined by Alex Nicks, Kayaking super star (and also my brother). The next day we made it out of San Francisco and before I knew it I was hurtling down a class five section on the South fork of the Yuba, still not exactly sure which country I was in and getting used to the sight of the back of my brother's helmet!

The following couple of months were to become an intense period of class five action on runs such as the Upper Tule, Golden Gate on the South Fork of the American East Fork Kaweah, Chawanakee Gorge on the San Joaquin, South Silver, Silver fork of the American, North Middle Fork of American, Dinky creek, the list goes on... Too many mind blowing runs to mention!

Multi-day tripping California style involves overnight trips with minimal gear, the weather is super reliable and pleasant. The little North Fork of the Middle fork of the Feather was our first bite of the multi-day apple. Once past the long forest roads and lunatic asylums to the get in - we met this guy with a long grey beard who had some cryptic billboards out on his property suggesting that the American government and the American Medical Association were out to control people through the use of psychiatric drugs, he was an interesting person to engage.This is quite a remote run, as the guidebook suggests you are likely to bump into people out here who are not aware of who the current President of the USA is. Over 2 days there is 10 miles of whitewater at an average gradient of 200 feet per mile. Each day boasted countless drops, slides and waterfalls. There was a 40-foot runnable drop on each day. The first 40 footer named after a guy who claimed the first descent, Yaroslav, had us all scratching our heads at the broken drop.

‘I’m going to run it ` announced Colin. The ballsy move opened up the line for the rest of us. The best line on another of these drops was by lining up in the center of the river with no speed, no paddle stroke and no effort. The first 10 feet dropped over a scoop, which set up the line for rest of the 30 feet drop in what was the ultimate waterfall kayaker's line.

The south fork of the Merced is another 2 day classic adventure flowing out of the heart of the Yosemite National Park. Someone in a previous party had to walk off the run, it had taken them 24 hours to make it back to civilization through rattlesnakes, bear tracks and poison oak. With enough class five to fill 2 days of paddling it was great to hit the boogie water at the end, enjoying the scenery and wildlife. As I approached the lip of what seemed to be an easy rapid I saw my brother at the bottom of the rapid giving the signal to go left. As I paddled to the left of the rapid and committed myself to the entry my brother was waving his arms shaking his head and waving me left. Oh, far left I thought to myself, so paddled further over. This only produced more emphatic head shaking and pointed to the left bank and as I looked up I realized there was a black bear on the left bank, not so much a river signal but a wildlife warning! Good job it wasn’t a grizzly as I could have been directed straight into its jaws!

With 20 miles of class five (and class five portaging) there is enough whitewater to have you on your knees by the end. The river is set in the high Sierra Nevada scenery with domed granite peaks, passing through various canyons akin to giant butt cracks in topography. After 9 hours of boating on the second day we reached our target, the namesake of the run, Fantasy falls, a 40 foot, 20 foot combo drop. With the sun setting in the mist at the lip of the falls we reached our camp for the night with a mixture of elation and terror, only after running the magnificent set of drops.

On the third day we ran some superb slides and we were nearly at the get out, we were all dog tired and suffering after 3 full river days. A couple of the team had already boat scouted and run a class 4 looking right hand dog-leg with a hole backed up against a cliff in the left corner. Colin was ahead and I saw him hit the hole, only to get sucked into the hole. With a little side surfing and bracing he seemed to be riding the storm, however in an instant he was amongst the worst of it, blasting and getting looped into the wall with a good thud of hollow plastic resounding in the canyon walls. I shouted ‘line!’, as I jumped out of my boat and ran down the bank but he had already swum into the pool to be rescued on the boaters below. Funny thing was that only the next bend the river passed over a small drop to reach the lake with a flat-water paddle to the get out. After 20 miles of class five plus, Colin had chosen virtually the last rapid to swim on, if he’d kept swimming he could have front crawled across the lake to the car!

I can’t leave this section without mention of another flirtation with wildlife. On the final morning of the run I had answered the call of nature on a pile of rocks. As I pulled up my shorts and stepped over a rock I heard a rattling noise, funny I thought not usually the time of day for crickets and as I turned around I saw the coiled mass of a rattle snake right beside me! I had nearly shat square on its head. Time seemed to stand still as I froze in terror, although the snake seemed calm so I took my time to savour this close encounter. It was lucky the serpent was in a good mood otherwise I would be writing this now lying on my front!

One of the most intense short day trips we did was the Loves falls section on the North fork of the Yuba. One drop had me walking to carry my boat as I watched my brother run this super steep long bouldery rapid with about 10 moves on it. You have to know when to throw in the towel. We were accompanied by Geoff Trauba (Geoff Trauma? Is the response I get whenever I mention his name to acquaintances). He had already swum in a steep bouldery rapid right near the start. Not to be deterred he decided to continue off down into the canyon section. He swam in a shallow cauldron drop and by the time I got down past a sneak line he was well and truly swimming. Going around like a brussel sprout in a pot of boiling water he eventually flushed out of the hole after a few tense and frantic moments trying to get a line to him. I think he was glad it was a short run otherwise there might have been room for a hatrick.

I have to thank small town America for the Help with fixing our vehicle, after several breakdowns we have been able to keep our van going but only through the help of the locals on the road. As a case in point we had broken down on our way to the Tuolumne River and were stranded on the side of the road. A guy called Bernie stopped to help us, he was a mechanic and so was able to diagnose our problem and temporarily got us going to the next town.

Here where we borrowed some tools off another helpful stranger, ordered the part from the local shop and spent a long, hot, sweaty, oily day fixing up the van on the side of the road. Bernie wouldn’t accept any money for his help; our terms of payment were agreed in a gift of the video, Jehovah’s Wetness and getting him pissed at the local bar! It never ceases to amaze how complete strangers will bend over backwards to help. What a great world!

With the most amazing 2 months paddling of our lives in California, time was against us yet again. It had been a good water year and we had run out of time rather than water. With Colin‘s visa imminently to expire we started the rush for the Canadian border.

Is the paddling in California good? Is it worth the journey?
To quote a bit of Californian redneckery, is a frog’s ass watertight?

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