Joining the Wild and Scenic River System: What does that even mean?

Wild & Scenic Waterfall: Big Brother on the White Salmon River, WA

I said it to my kayak instruction students and rafting clients countless times this summer.

"Oh yea, the White Salmon is a Wild & Scenic River" (confidently nodding as if it was so obvious what this means that I wouldn't even bother elaborating).

Just a few of Oregon and Washington's Wild & Scenic Rivers

When it comes down to it though, I have no idea what this means exactly.

Obviously it means that some type of imaginary conservation blanket covers the twisting river through canyons and farmland. Perhaps it prevented the construction any sort of obstruction, like a dam, along the free-flowing river. It might even mean that the river met some higher standard of water quality.

Still, too many questions remained for me to be able to truthfully make this statement to my guests.

• Is the whole river protected?
• What does 'wild' and 'scenic' actually mean?
• What about the Condit Dam downstream?
• Is some agency/organization/group actually managing this river?
• Why is this river so special?

So I found out.

In the article Part I: Wild and Scenic Rivers Act in Oregon and Washington, I explain the answers to all these juicy questions.

If you have ever enjoyed the flowing water of a "Wild & Scenic River" I suggest you check it out. Educate yourself on the rivers you love and maybe one day you will be the one to stop their destruction.

Changing a River Forever: Removal of the Condit Dam in my backyard

I follow the river. Not only when pushing off from shore and moving with the current, but also from home. I watch gauges and learn about tributaries. I listen for reports of new wood and alteration of rapids over the seasons.

My new home in the Columbia Gorge, from Portland to Hood River to White Salmon, brings the opportunity to learn and connect with a new set of rivers.

When I heard the plan to tear down a 200 ft dam from my new favorite river, my attention sharpened.

[Check out the article Condit Dam Removal: White Salmon soon to be freed that I wrote to learn more about what is going on with the decomission process and how boaters will be effected]

I learned that the days of the Condit Dam on the White Salmon River were numbered, soon discovering how long this process has actually taken.

Steps toward decommissioning began 14 years ago! Hoops and hurdles stood in the way as PacifiCorp, Skamania and Klickitat counties, local community associations, energy and environmental departments and many more all petitioned for their interests. Settlements were made, certifications gained and now only one last order from the Federal Energy Regulation Comission must be made before the final date is set.

And here I stand, showing up for the very last moments of the ordeal.

While I have not been a witness of the process in the past, you better believe I will be around for what happens next.

The White Salmon River valley is about to change drastically. We will witness a new riparian environment slowly rebuild. Fading through degrees of succession as plants and animals reemerge into their natural habitat. Fish will travel farther upstream now, changing the dynamic of upstream sections of river as well.

And of course, the contours of the river bed that have hidden under the lake for nearly 100 years will once again feel the flow of the river.

Makes me wonder what other projects exist throughout my region working toward similar goals and how I might be able to be a part of it all.

New Goal: 30+ Mile Wildwood Trail

New city, new home, now I need a new goal. A goal that feels as foreign as living in a city does for a mountain girl.

Blissfully cramp-free running on a trail in Forest Park after work today, I decided to give more purpose to each footstep. I'm not one for tallying up the miles in my running shoes. In fact, running longer distances has always seemed silly to me, as the sport falls into my cross-training regime. I run when convenience allows, when my kayak needs rest or when my schedule puts me near a trailhead.

Setting off to loop some trails in Forest Park, just before inspiration for new goal

But its time for running to get more credit. Bending around a lush patch of ferns, bouncing over tree roots, pulling in every breath to energize my body: nothing beats that moment.

Thus the 30-mile, One-Month Wildwood Trail Challenge. Self-induced, naturally.

Forget a "marathon." I don't even want to hear that word. Crashing footsteps send imaginary shock waves through my leg joints at the mention of the word. No, my running credit will be gained from the successful completion of one, simple trail. North to south, without stopping. Thats it. Just one trail.

Now you might be confused at this point. How can I run enough miles through the woods to take on such a challenge while living in a major metropolitan city? Well, Portland is not like most large cities. Within a train or bus ride from every point in the city, I can reach the 5,000+ acres of juicy wilderness called Forest Park.

Thus it is settled. My kayaks might find a little more rest for the next month. My knitting project might last all winter. My friends might shake their heads.

For geeky analysis of each workout (both wet and dry) check this out (keyword: smhollings). My new Garmin Forerunner allows me to track mileage, elevation, heart rate, laps, course and more.

Whitewater Meets Adventure Racing: BADDLUN

If you thought Class V was hard, think again. The bar has been raised.

First, try fully exhausting yourself by biking through grueling terrain, up steep and narrow trails or over mountains on back country roads.

Next, change your shoes and run through the woods like a Yankee in Deliverance for miles and miles.

Now paddle your Class V river as hard as your remaining muscle power can take you.

This is the BADDLUN, and it is going to change the face of Extreme Adventure Racing.

I know I have a new goal for 2011: Gauley, Russell Fork, Green...

Hell's Canyon and Popping Lori's Cherry

Nicki, Lori and me ready for our flare-filled overnighter

The end of the summer means ants in the pants for raft guides at Wet Planet Whitewater. We've kayaked and rafted ALL summer long, hitting hard to hit runs in the spring and settling for backyard Green Truss runs into July and August. But the daily grind gets to everyone and now we want to go exploring again.

Many of us migrate back east :::sigh::: to work the Gauley or play on the Russell Fork and Green. Some chose the other direction exchanging creek boats for surfboards and taking a two month hiatus in Hawaii. Others will be in Nepal for months, opting for the abrupt environment change and increased life-lesson intake route.

But not us.

Nicki, Blee, Lori and I continued to train rafting guests for Husum Falls, answer phones and live in tents. Someone had to do it, but we needed an escape.

Hells Canyon, Snake River, Idaho...no wait....Oregon....ok, both.

Scouting the first bigger rapid from the OR side

Better than your average kayak self-support, this trip was going to be Lori's first multi-day river experience EVER, and Nicki's first one out of her kayak. Blee and I were there to see the epiphany that occurs when a kayaker realizes how easy, fun and liberating a self-support trip can be.

Blee in Wild Sheep Rapid...about to face the meat.

Waking up to the ridiculously bright headlights of multiple F3,000,000 trucks and stomping fisherman boots at the Hells Canyon Dam, we began the gear explosion that would lead to fully-packed kayaks.

Soon enough we were feeling our heavy boats pushing through currents and eddies on our way to the bigger rapids, all of which we would see in the first day. The newbies transitioned flawlessly. No worries or concerns about maneuverability with the added weight, just smiles at the thought of the experience.

Perfect lines and meaty-hole hits added to the general elation of the canyon and we settled into the peaceful pace the river sets. After 20 miles (total 35), we decided we would camp in ID, rather than the shady OR side of the river.

Unloading the Green Boat at camp, just in time to enjoy a sunset and the last bulkhead Hamms

This might be the hardest decision on a multi-day river trip. Choosing the location where elated exhaustion meets prime riverside realty.

Pine Bar campsite, ID side

Beautiful beach with grassy patches...yes please.

Lori takes a pre-rest before the real rest on the beach. Baby steps.

Warming by the moon-lit fire and passing out on a beach with the river lulling in the background. Is this a commercial for paradise?

Taking a lazy morning, despite the 15 mile agenda, is always a good idea. The coffee tastes better, the oatmeal fills the belly easier and the day just keeps getting better.

Nicki taught me how to take apart my Whisperlite and bang in on the ground to get it to work. She's a tough cookie in the kitchen.

Lori and I opted for the tarp...smaller than 2 bivy sacks. More ventilation to fresh air and plenty of coverage.

Sunday we floated. We caught eddies, rode wave trains and took it all in. Soon enough a truck appeared on the right, signaling that we had made it to our take-out. Not bad for a first taste for the girls and definitely a well-earned break from the daily grind for all of us.

Not a bad year for the Green Boat and overnighters...what next?

Swamper's Delights: First Round on the Grand Canyon with AzRA

Adam guiding the paddle raft

This Grand Canyon trip really began a year and a half ago when I met Adam Mills Elliott in Lijiang, China, preparing to set out on the now-dammed Great Bend of the Yangtze. We met then, later falling in love over the seething eddylines and boils of the Salween.

Adam and I at the source of Thunder River

There he told me about the canyon in a way no one has spoke of it before to me.

Charlie soaking up a waterfall in Stone Canyon

I've heard from other kayakers about the river, the hikes, the daily life. But Adam's words spoke of details, true knowledge of a place. The kind of knowledge that develops over time spent living on the river.

And lucky me, he took me along for a couple of rides this summer.

Rinsing off the muddy Colorado in one of the many side streams

I begin by noting that the Grand Canyon is beyond the English language. That being said, I will do my best to fit in nouns, verbs and adjectives to fit the deep canyon and powerful river.

The hike down into Gallaway Canyon from Stone. Just shimmy down that crack in the Tapeats. No biggie.

Swimming in Havasu's fluorescent blue waters

Although days bleed into each other, I believe it was day 4 that I fell into complete silence drifting beneath the tiered and colorful canyon walls growing higher around me. Before this I was impressed, but for some reason something else hit me that day.

Exploring side canyons never gets old.

The highest walls stand back, solid and steep, quietly reminding the rafters of the depth at which they travel. The youngest in the canyon, these walls also must see the action of the river from the greatest distance.

My favorite picture...ever. Hiking down Havasu. Photo by Adam, of course.

Narrowing the canyon slightly, the tall faces of Redwall Limestone appear impenetrable just below. A closer inspection, however, reveals their increased susceptibility to the floating aquifers pushing through the rock layers. Deep caves speckle their aspect, eroded by water slowly dissolving the rock. We pass one such cave at river level several days earlier. Cool sand, hidden from the heat of the inner canyon, our group is hypnotized. Several hours of rest and we move on.

Redwall Canyon break

To a guest, running a commercial trip down the beyond-stimulating Colorado River appears like the coolest job in the world as well as the hardest. They might be right.

Fun group. Everyone loves life.

It is a marathon.

No, it is an ironman triathlon for the amateur adventure enthusiast, run by the professional adventure enthusiasts.

Kitchen on night 1 near Sheerwall

We eat, we pack, we paddle, we hike, we climb, we swim, we run, we eat more, we jump, we float, we unpack, we eat yet again, we sleep.

Sometimes we relax, listening to the nearest rapid crash in the darkness illuminated only by the stars filling in the night sky.

I can't wait to do it again in another 3 days.

Wildwater 2010 National Championships and Inevitable Racing Frustrations

Bursting through a wave on the sprint course. Photo: Adam Elliott

Athletes often quickly fall into a whirlpool of frustration when a competition/race does not go as planned. Ideally, this stage does not last long, especially for those athletes who understand the deeper joys of the river.

When this much boat is out of the water, you know there is power behind your stroke. Photo: Chris Norbury

The amount of disappointment possible after my 3rd and final race at Wildwater National Championships this weekend could very well have been unbearable. Yet, somehow, it didn’t even make it past the finish line with me. Only now as I write do I understand why.

I had swam. Not just through the finish line of my first sprint race the day before, disqualifying me from the sprint class, but also in the middle of my longer, classic race. I swam twice. I also would have been the sprint National Champion had my head been above the water for those last three yards of the race course.

National Women's Champion Tierney O'Sullivan heading into the rapid

As for the Classic race, I felt like I had a good chance for a win. I love longer events, stretching the mental focus and attention required for competition over a longer period of time.

Yet, I’m not upset. Why would I be?

Going into the weekend, I knew that I had spent more time in my kayak over the past 3 months than any previous 3 consecutive months. Just the wrong boat.

Confessing to the other athletes, I spoke of how my creek boat had stolen my attention during the past few months, leaving little time for fun with the Wildwater kayak. I spoke of unexpected rainstorms and an abundance of eager new river friends. I even used the excuse of participating in the Eddyflower Total Vertical Challenge, a competition based on

running the steepest rivers you can find. I almost had to spend that much time in my creek boat.

The championships were also held on an infinitely clear river inside a National Park I might have otherwise never visited.

The North Cascades, in the northwest corner of Washington state, blew me away. Massive trees filled in the jagged mountain views on either side of our vehicle as we wound our way deeper into the wilderness.

Some ladies from the Women's Team giving perspective on boat length. Photo: Adam Elliott

Finally, the race brought in kayakers from all over the country.

Kayakers who revel in the meticulous break-down of the forward stroke.

Kayakers who extensively talk about each micro-wave and eddy line within a rapid.

Kayakers who like to read and run their whitewater faster than any other boater.

Tom Weir, C1 National Champion

I identify with this particular group of kayaks for their dedication to improvement of skill and development of understanding the currents we slice across.

So really, I had no grounds to allow a few silly swims to ruin my experience.

I’ll admit, the frustration visited me momentarily. I secretly hoped that my head had somehow remained above water as I crossed the finish line, pulling my skirt just after. I wondered if I had paddled hard enough after the second swim to make up for the time lost.

But I immediately knew that it is what it is. It just was not my race this year, and I’ve got all winter to look forward to the next. With all of the upsets, I still got a spot on the US National Downriver Team, allowing me to participate in coaching and training for an upcoming Worlds event.

Boo loves her boat.

I also was about to board a plane to do two consecutive trips down the Grand Canyon. Not much can spoil that feeling.

Discovery Channel and Femme 45: Why Waterfalls?

Me on the first drop on the Lower Wind River

Who is Femme 45?

Discovery Channel Canada wondered the same thing.

Barry the camera man, loving hanging out with the ladies

Femme 45 is a group of ladies in the Pacific Northwest with kayaking always on the brain. Sharing waterfalls, big rapids and whitewater joy with other girls is the goal and having fun every time is the outcome.

Kate, Monica, Melissa, Christie and I...smiles all around cause life is so good

Kate and I waiting. Lots of waiting when there are cameras.

On Sunday, a group of Femmes (Christie Glissmeyer, Kate Wagner, Melissa DeCarlo, Monica Gokey and myself) took a camera crew to the waterfalls of the Lower Wind River, as well as the infamous Big Brother on the Green Truss. The idea was to explain how we can have so much fun doing something that seems so dangerous.

The answer? Well, thats tricky.

Walking to the put-in through Washington's finest tropical forested landscape

Monica and I setting safety on the first drop

Partly its the rush of facing a challenge. Every drop, every rapid is like a problem that must be solved using personal judgement and confidence in skills.

Partly its the act of carrying out a specific plan. We see a line, and we go for it.

Partly its the feeling off a horizon line. Free-fall...whoa.

Mostly, its our connection to the river's power and the people we are with that keep us asking for more. Working with such a powerful force of nature along with an incredible group of friends makes for some incredible experiences.

Monica on the second drop

To demonstrate this, we decided to hike into the Lower Wind River and run the 4 waterfalls a couple of times. Afterwards, Christie, Melissa and I took the film crew into the Green Truss where we ran a more difficult drop called Big Brother. The drop was a first for me and due to the support of my friends and the confidence in my ability, it went perfectly.

With all the fun, I can't help but think what we might do next.

Femme 45: Ladies of the Little White Part I

If you've ever sat in a creek boat and felt the pull of a boof stroke as it transitions into a weightless moment, landing on aerated water then you can relate.

Waves spraying and folding over a steep riverbed of huge boulders, cascading over cliff faces.

Turquoise tinted, translucent waters boiling into chaotic hydrolics.

Steep and jagged canyon walls speckled with glowing green mosses and ferns.

A creek that feels like it should be on another planet.

The Little White Salmon, Washington State.

Here's an idea of what I mean, in case you still can't understand.

These ladies, some of the Columbia Gorge's Femme 45, document the thrill in this Ladies of the Little White preview.

Icing on the Multi-day Cake: Selway River

Straight beauty, 24 hours a day. Photo by John Blackshire

There was scattered talk about the Selway during our Middle Fork Trip. Seemingly unlikely in the first few days, events just kept falling into place for our group to extend the big blue watery road-trip another few days.

The road over the pass was rumored to be plowed.

Levels were low, but days were getting warmer promising higher flows.

A shuttle bunny offered to drop my car in Missoula...my next destination.

And...we would be putting on the river for the final two days before permit season.

I even managed to make the 3 hour drive south to pick up my belongings in Sun Valley, then turn around and drive another 4 hours back north, landing at the Nez Pierce pass at 2:30 am. Friends were doubtful I'd make it, so I woke at 5am just to be sure. It wasn't until I pulled into their camp that I actually believed I would be on another one of Idaho's legendary river trips.

Thus the Selway happened.

Casey and I with the standard Selway Perma-grin. Photo by John Blackshire

We began to float on the crystal clear-water, all just giddy with the idea that we managed to arrange another classic river trip at the last minute.

Day one was mellow and beautiful, nothing new really. Camp was found the only way a camp can be found on the Selway, with the perfect combination of exhaustion and riverside perfection. We passed the afternoon mushroom hunting and hiking up to the nearby airstrips. Here I met and man who walked as if in his own backyard.

He had flown his small plane in to enjoy an evening in the Bitterroot wilderness, a region he helped protect by writing the Management plan decades ago. He spoke of days spent floating down the river or traversing through the snowy backcountry. He was rich in stories, and I was lucky enough to be there to hear them. Truly a gift.

Perfect place to spend the night. Photo by Nathan Galbreath

Camping by the bridge, ideal dinner and post-whiskey stargazing spot. Photo by John Blackshire

By the time the last day arrived we were pretty accustomed to cruising whitewater, floating into each rapid lackadaisically.

And then we hit the rapids.

Whitewater! Photo by Andy McMurray

Boat scouting everything, we took turns dropping into the chaos. Watching to see the degree of success, we each followed remembering with each stroke how much fun big rapids can be.

"I like rapids so much better than flatwater" Casey commented, nearly laughing hysterically as he spoke.

Casey, throwing gainers off huge cliffs. Us looking like ants down below. Photo by Andy McMurray

Pulling onto shore above Selway Falls, we quickly went our separate ways, taking advantage of any ride we could find. Sometimes a quick goodbye is the easiest. Luckily, I got to hang out with the Montana boys for the next few days...mountain biking and creeking with the locals is never a bad thing.

Can't wait for the next time I get to pack that Green Boat and set out on the water.

Middle Fork of the Salmon: 5-star, All-inclusive, Adventure Resort

Just floating through Idaho's legendary River of No Return Wilderness

Photo: Todd Corey

The invite for this 6-day multi-day river gem came from a stranger. Of course, if you are a kayaker it doesn't take long to find a connection and realize that you knew each other all along. Mike sent me a message in hopes of adding another female to round-out the crew for a friend's Middle Fork of the Salmon river trip. Since it is just wrong to pass this opportunity up, I was in.

2 ft snow launch into Marsh Creek, Photo by Todd Corey

Three months later I pulled into Salmon, ID to meet up with the group of southeastern boaters who I assumed would be great people, as I had only ever met one before.

The cold air and snowy forest floor made me throw in a few more layers as I jammed my food and camp equipment in the back of my Green Boat. As we packed, another group of guys pull-up to launch. Seemingly strangers as well, it didn't take long to make the connections between mutual Montana friends and suddenly I was now boating with 12 new people. It just kept getting better.

Marsh Creek, keeping warm with Hamms, Photo by Todd Corey

Marsh Creek was low, but it didn't last long. Snow pelting in the face was annoying, but it eventually subsided. Hands were going numb, but they still worked. This was about the extent of our troubles during the whole trip, and they only lasted for a few hours.

Days passed watching herds of elk traverse the mountainside. Afternoons were spent hiking up to see ancient pictographs on the canyon walls. Mostly, time just stopped and we continued to ride the river.

My "tent," also known as "Green Boat Lean-to." Works like a dream. Photo by Nate Galbreath

With so many rivers located in amazing wilderness in this country, it isn't hard to organize a multi-day river trip that will amaze you. However, the Middle Fork is in its own class because of the incredible hot springs.

The first hot spring. No time to take off dry-suits, must get warm. Plus they make for good flotation. Photo by Todd Corey

Every night but one we filled our stomaches with food from heaven then lounged in nature's hot tubs till the whiskey ran out. There were tiered, shallow pools with a built-in shower at Sunflower campground and deep, hot and large tubs at Loon Creek.

Supposedly built by Chinese workers, the hot spring at Look Creek was deep, warm and luxurious, Photo by Nate Galbreath

It was like we stumbled upon a 5-star, all-inclusive, adventure resort in the middle of paradise.

Luck was good with putting some great people all on one river trip. Lofty, Andy and Dick to name a few. Photo by Dick Lewan

The whole crew at the take-out