Growing up in the northern latitudes, one learns very quickly to embrace outdoor activity in the cold months. Madness lies down the path of trying to hide from the cold and snow. Thus it was that during our week in northern Wisconsin we braved the cold, the wind, the snow…and the occasional sunny day…and seized the carp outside.
In our humble, yet devastatingly accurate opinion, Wisconsin has the best secondary road system in the country. Thus we would have been remiss if we didn’t sample some northern tarmac while we were here. It did not disappoint – even if we did have to wear down jackets and winter clothes.
Biking old haunts, backroads and favorite trails
Given that water freezes at 32 degree, the car thermometer and snow flurries did give me a moment of pause. Perhaps…just maybe we’d moved beyond prime paddling season? No! Conditions just guaranteed I didn’t have to worry about bugs, sunscreen, or tourists. With the right gear I actually had some excellent paddling on local lakes.
For us, these outdoor activities were a necessity, and were quite fun. As always though, the best part of this week – much like last – was the chance to spend time with family. We talked, played games, did puzzles, crossed several items off Mom’s “honey do” list, did some baking (and eating – lots of eating), and just generally relaxed and had a great time. Sharon also took the opportunity to visit and share memories were her cousins at the family cottage. They all lived next door all through their childhood, so they are really more like brothers and sisters to Sharon. Sharon also got together with some former co-workers from her time in Rhinelander. No photos of that evening were available to the press. I’ll let that fact speak for itself. Apparently what happens at Dawn’s house stays at Dawn’s house!
Sharon and cousins
Cousin’s cottage
Mom and a content cat
prepping for a northern winter
This being Wisconsin, there are plenty of bars – but only one microbrew in Rhinelander. In keeping with our microbrew fact finding mission, we spent an entertaining afternoon enjoying the staff, the beer, and two fun couples from Florida visiting Wisconsin for the first time.
And thus draws to close a lovely week in the Northwoods. As much as we love Flagstaff and the west, there is a special place in our hearts for Rhinelander. I spent much of my childhood here. Sharon and I met and married here. And of course Mom is here. I can’t imagine leaving the west, but it is always a joy to be able to return “home” from time to time.
Monday, September 27. Question: When are we happiest not being on two wheels? Answer: Days like today!
“The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play, so we sat in the pub on that cold, cold wet day. I sat there with Sharon, we sat there we two. I said, ‘How I wish we had something to chew.” Too wet to go out, too wet to play ball, so we sat in the pub, we ate pretzels and all. And all we could do was to eat, drink, eat, drink, and we liked it a lot, not only a bit.” – The Cat in the Hat (Dave and Sharon style
Tuesday, September 28. Irrational optimism reigned supreme this morning. Surely, the sun will shine today and allow us to combine biking with some hiking in the Redwoods of Jedediah Smith State Park. That worked right up until it didn’t. We hadn’t even gone a mile when the rains came. Back to camp. An hour later we decided a drive would be nice. Good call as it rained on and off . We still managed to sneak in three lovely hikes. I can share pics and use a thesaurus worth of synonyms to describe the redwoods…but really, you just need to see them for yourselves.
Wednesday, September 29. Once again we turned to the Konas to experience the redwoods. We found a loop that included a coastal hiking/biking trail and a scenic highway. The coastal trail was definitely more hike than bike, and became a full body workout. We ended the day though having seen a remote stretch of coastline, elk, and more of the amazing redwoods.
Every bikers dream ride
“Are we sure this is the trail?”
Another highlight of the day was meeting Ann. An experienced rider, she is making her way from home in Port Angeles down the coast as far as time and desire allow. After chatting a bit, we agreed to camp together a few miles down the road at Patrick’s Point. Ann’s suggestion was brilliant. The views were amazing. In spite of the damp and cold, we stayed up way later than normal, talking and trading stories.
Thursday, September 30. Travel day. Left the coast and headed inland through Redding and Sacramento on our way to South Lake Tahoe. Lots of evidence of the fires that ravaged this area as well as beautiful areas that deserve more exploration.
Friday, October 1. Twenty-nine degrees this morning. Summer, it seems, is well and truly over. Not to be deterred, we donned our down and set off down (or in this case – UP) the road to an overlook high above Lake Tahoe. The lake lives up to the hype. As much as we enjoyed the overlook, and the climb to get there (not), the boats seemed like the better option for enjoying Tahoe. We chose…wisely. An added bonus of biking and a few hours on the water was a healthy appetite. We continued our Great Western Pub Crawl with a visit to the Lake Tahoe Aleworx. Excellent pizza and pints.
Saturday, October 2. Forty some years ago when I left Prudhoe Bay, I never imagined some day I would return to the Slope. During that original summer I met the most amazing person I’d ever encountered. Suzanne embraced life and adventure like no one I had ever met. I was inspired by her generosity and openness to life. For a few years after that summer, we kept in touch. She and her partner (and eventual husband John) would send the occasional postcard from Fiji, or Skagway, or some other far flung location. As happens though, we eventually lost touch.
On Saturday, we had a happy reunion at Suzanne and John’s home thirty minutes from Lake Tahoe. Not surprisingly, they had spent a lifetime working and traveling the world. It was such a joy sharing stories and finding that time has not diminished their adventurous spirit in the least.
We ended the day in Reno. Tomorrow Sharon will be leaving to spend ten days with her folks. For the past six months, we have been together 24/7. It will be a bit odd wandering around northern Nevada on my own. Not sure yet what I’ll do…the no plan plan is firmly in place. I look forward to finding out along with all of you where this road leads. Until next week…STC!
Sharon and I fancy ourselves connoisseurs of fine mountains. The San Francisco Peaks of home may pale in comparison to the more prolific peaks of the Rockies…but they are accessible, familiar, and…home! The San Juan mountains of SW Colorado are wild and rugged…everything a good range should be. They invite – and offer a lifetime of opportunities to explore. The Tetons are magnificent specimens! A visual feast, even if poorly named by someone with an over active imagination.
The Cascade mountains and big peaks of the Pacific Northwest are in a different class. They are remote and aloof. Dense forests (nay, jungles) and clouds keep them well hidden. Jagged slopes and glacier shrouded heights deny access to all but the most committed. That, perhaps, is part of their appeal. They do not give up their secrets easily. As someone once said, ” All things excellent are as difficult as rare.”
Monday (5/24). We arrived on the eastern edge of the Cascades late Sunday. Making our way across the range on Monday, we are given glimpses of the hidden beauty.
At a pullover above Diablo Lake we met four youngsters bicycle touring from Washington to Maine. All recent college graduates, they were eight days into an epic journey. They were feeling exhilarated – and a bit overwhelmed. We donated four Snickers bars to the cause and offered words of encouragement. We assured them that even though they had a long climbs and long days ahead, they would cherish this summer for the rest of their lives. It is fun to see others out seizing the carp.
We eventually found a place to call home for a few days on the western shores of Baker Lake. In spite of some light rain, we launched the boats for a leisurely tour. Unfortunately all the local peaks remained hidden. It was odd, and just a bit eerie…no other souls around.
Tuesday: No cell coverage, but the last forecast we’d seen was for an all day rain. We were treated instead to a nice mix of sun, puffy clouds with just a few sprinkles thrown in. We managed to get in a two hour bike ride along the lake before the rain arrived in force. Still no people, but lots of woodland creatures interested in making our acquaintance.
Mt Baker hiding in the clouds.
Wednesday: Plan today was to ride 15 miles and 2,500′ up to a trailhead on the flanks of Mt Baker. Instead we had a lie in, sorted gear for the bike trip, and did some chores around camp. Eventually, we drove up and went hiking instead. Felt a bit out of place as back country skiers skied past on their way down to the trailhead. The climb was worth the effort to catch a glimpse of Baker up close. Seven years ago a full Diapers and Depends expedition climbed Baker from the other side. Back at camp we prepped for another batch of rain.
Mt. Shuksan
Thursday – Sunday: More and more our attention is turning toward our trip north. The long range forecast for Prudhoe Bay is looking pretty good for our Thursday arrival.
Our original reservation to Prudhoe was meant to leave Seattle at 8am in the morning. A while back AK Airlines abruptly changed our flight to leave at midnight…not helpful for logistics. Since then they’ve added back some flights, so Sharon was able to work her magic and get us rebooked almost to our original times. Yay!
We’ve had a joyful reunion with the B’s here in Bellingham. So much fun getting caught up and reminiscing. We’ve packed a lot of history in the nine years we’ve known Cailie and Rob. We’ve enjoyed deep conversations, sunsets from high ridges, kayaking on the bay, hikes on beaches and forests. They have been the most amazing and gracious hosts. We’re already looking forward to seeing them again in the fall…and hopefully on a larger adventure early next year.
One more day to enjoy our friends and do some final prep before heading to Seattle, and eventually…the arctic. Our next post will likely not occur until we have completed the Dalton Highway and arrive in Fairbanks in mid June. We appreciate all the support and encouragement you have offered! Thank you! Until then…STC!
For all you Forrest Gump fans out there (and really, who isn’t?) I had a “Lt. Dan” moment. As the sixth thunderstorm in a row came rolling through, I channeled Lt. Dan as he swung from the rigging of Forrest’s shrimp boat during a hurricane. “You call this a storm? Is this all you’ve got!” I stood getting soaked, almost knocked off my feet by the wind, and screamed at the storm. For the record, I believe I was justified. Thunderstorm #6 blew down the rain shelter and flipped my kayak 20′ up the beach! All of this after the prevailing winds had not prevailed at all during the first four days of the trip…I’d had just about enough!
It wasn’t meant to be like this. Sharon and I were meant to be making final preparations for our epic Norway/European bike trip. Covid-19 meant everyone around the world has pretty much hung out the “Closed” sign. Fortunately, it only took about five minutes to come up with plan “B” and about five days to get food and gear together for a trip from Wahweap Bay to Hall’s Crossing…about 95-ish miles depending on the source. Sharon graciously dropped me off at Wahweap and I set out for a long, solo trip up the lake.
I guessed that it would take ten days, but I brought food for fourteen. I’ve paddled plenty, but never this far or for this long. I honestly didn’t know what I’d be able to do each day. I also didn’t know what the weather would do. I had hoped for prevailing winds from the southwest to provide a gentle assist as I made my way north and east. As noted earlier, the winds were seldom gentle, even on the final days when they finally decided to offer some assistance. But hey, its spring in Arizona – I should have known to expect the unexpected.
Camping
One of the huge benefits of camping in AZ and UT is being able to sleep under the stars. Although I did need to make some accommodation for the wind on a couple of evenings, it was absolutely glorious sleeping out. I was able to watch as the moon gradually waned over the eight nights. Each night was I able to lay in my bag and stare up at starry night sky.
Night #1. Near Dominguez Butte. Steady wind all night.
Night #2: Near Friendship Cove. Perfect evening right next to the water.
Night #3: Mountain Sheep Canyon.
Night #4: Crazy windy all night…and then it rained. Tarp burrito action.
Night #5: After storms all day long, it ended up being a beautiful calm evening. No picture though.
Night #6. Took a while to find a good site, but oh…it was worth it.
Night #7. First site I came to after a loooong stretch of sheer cliffs.
Night #8. Best site of the trip. Perfect location.
Practical Matters
This was actually a fairly simple trip to pull together from a gear perspective. I had the kayak. I added a few bits of minicell foam just before the trip to protect my heels and knees and I’m glad I did. The best piece of new gear was a deck bag from Seattle Sports…but really anything on the market would probably work. It was sooooo nice to have water, food, maps, camera readily available. Hands down, the best gear was a decrepit old tarp we’d had around forever. Paired with some hiking poles and bits of string, I had shade in five minutes. Several nights I had protection from the wind. It served surprisingly well as protection from the thunderstorms and vicious winds that came along for the ride. I had food for fourteen days – just in case I got really adventurous. Our platypus gravity water filter provided all the water I needed. All the gear was stowed in eight different 10L dry bags. All told, I had just under 50 lbs of gear stored in the kayak, with room to spare.
Fourteen days of food – mostly home made backpacking type food.
All the gear. Eight dry bags, a bag chair and small table.
The awesome low-tech shade/wind shelter
Exploration
If you’ve never been to Lake Powell, it is hard to overstate its beauty. Just paddling the main channel all the way to Hall’s Crossing would be a worthy goal. I read somewhere however, that if you include all the side canyons, Lake Powell has something like 2,000 miles of shoreline. All along the main channel there are side canyons begging to be explored. I didn’t have the time or the energy to do them all, but I did sample a fair number of the side canyons I passed. All told, my exploration added about 35 miles of paddling to my trip. Here is a small sample.
Kyle and Marcie. The only people I talked to in nine days. They were on day one of their two week vacation.
Cathedral in the Desert. With no one around it was truly magical
As on a Colorado River trip, its not just about the water – it is also about the places you can get to from the water. I was able to take some amazing hikes and take in some incredible views as well. I did have to keep in mind that I was in a very remote place, with no people around. I didn’t get as adventurous as I might otherwise have…plus I carried a Garmin Mini with me at all times.
Hike above West Canyon
Small creek in Oak Canyon
Oak Canyon. The first thunderstorm to assault me…
Pueblo in Slickrock Canyon
Hike above last night’s camp.
Profound Moments
I had a great deal of time on this trip to just … ponder life. I had what for me were a few rather profound thoughts. Early on I had a hard time getting my head around the scale of the place. Lake Powell is MASSIVE! The whole first day, fifteen miles of paddling, I was able to see the butte where I eventually camped…for the WHOLE day. It never seemed to get any closer. In some stretches, you can see two, three, four miles ahead. That is an hour of paddling. I found that if I focused on the point four miles in the distance where the lake made a bend, I got frustrated that it was taking so long to get there…especially with a headwind. If I focused just on my surroundings, my paddle stroke, the color of the water, the sun reflecting off the ripples, the cliffs to my left and right, the clouds, the miles took care of themselves and the time passed pleasantly. Seemed like there might be a life lesson in there. If we’re always looking ahead and trying to get to the “next thing” we miss out on the beauty all around us.
The second thought occurred to me after my “Lt. Dan Moment” mentioned earlier. After four days of angry headwinds, followed by a parade of violent thunderstorms on my off day – I was getting pretty frustrated. After the last thunderstorm passed however, I was treated to a calm evening and beautiful sunset. I came to think of that moment of calm, and all those that followed over the next several days as “moments of grace.” The biblical definition of grace is an undeserved gift of God. I realized that I had expected beautiful calm weather for my trip. Without the storms, I probably would not have had the deep, profound sense of gratitude for the moments of calm when they came. I likely would have taken them for granted. Instead, whether I was paddling or spending time in camp, I was very aware of those calm moments. Again, that seemed like something I wanted to hang onto after the trip was over. The realization that headwinds and storms eventually pass, and the importance of appreciating the “moments of grace” when they occur.
A “moment of grace”
This was a special trip. Going solo, I think, made it a much more profoundly satisfying experience. Having said that, now that I’ve had “my” trip, I would love to do this again in the company of family and/or friends. If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out. In the meantime, seize the carp!
As a general rule, my goal is to avoid any place named “Hell”. This past week I made an exception. According to the USGS, some variation of the word “Hell” is affixed to 73 places in Arizona. After a good start, our winter has sputtered a bit. Since skiing conditions have suffered as a result, and for a change of pace, I decided to give the kayak some love. This time of year there are two obvious choices from Flag – Lakes Powell or Pleasant…both a two-ish hour drive. Whilst pondering my options, the thought occurred, why not combine time on the water with a trail run in a new area?
Some internet searching had turned up a little traveled trail leading to Governor’s Peak. This nondescript little peak is located in the northeast corner of the Hell’s Canyon Wilderness, located in the Hieroglyphic mountain range. Twenty years in Arizona and I had never heard of any of these places. That was definitely part of the attraction.
The trail…well…path to Governor’s peak
Amazing hiking through the saguaro cacti
Lake Pleasant to the southeast from the summit.
The descriptions were accurate. The trail was lightly used…and in many places was more of a suggestion of where a trail might go if one existed. Some well placed cairns were most helpful in leading to the summit. Probably the most surprising, and most welcome feature of the hike was the presence of flowing water. Water in the desert always seems such a gift. At several creek crossings I just sat and listened to the sound of trickling water, accompanied by the scores of birds also enjoying the streams.
For a trail run, as is often the case, there wasn’t much “running” involved – at least on the way up. Turns out there was a significant amount of “up” on this trail. Coming down, the trail was a bit more obvious and I was able to jog down most of the way. Love all the oxygen at lower elevations. Overall, a super pleasant way to spend a few hours.
Back at the car, I changed clothes, pulled out the bag chair, and enjoyed the view and a few snacks. Then it was off to the 2nd part of the day. The northern launch ramp at Lake Pleasant was just a few miles back down the road. Since there was a fairly brisk southerly breeze, I decided to head in that direction first.
From the comfort of bed earlier in the day, I had thought I’d spend three or four hours getting a real workout paddling around the lake. Yeah, well…plans change. Paddling into the wind for an hour seemed like enough of a workout, especially for muscles that seemed genuinely surprised to be swinging a paddle again. I poked around the Scorpion Bay marina checking out the sailboats and chatting with a couple in another kayak. I enjoyed a leisurely (with the wind) paddle back north – checking out some bays, coves and mules along the way.
I love winter. I love winter activities. I’m most definitely NOT ready for winter to be over. But what a treat to be able to enjoy a lovely ‘spring’ day for just the cost of a few hours driving.
Sharon was recently going through some old photos and came across this one from February 2012. We’d all just climbed up the insanely steep “trail” out of South Canyon – and most important – were all still smiling. This little trip was the first time I’d met Rob, Cailie or Andrew. it was also the very first Diapers and Depends Expedition.
I’ve described this before, but during the trip we very quickly started with some good natured trash talking – e.g. the youngsters among us were “barely out of diapers”. We were so old we needed Depends! And so it went. Thus was born “Diapers and Depends Expeditions”. Since then, plus or minus a few others, the Diapers and Depends gang has reeled off an impressive list of accomplishments. As often happens, seeing this early photo made me a bit nostalgic and prompted this pictorial walk down memory lane celebrating the last eight years.
2012-2013
2012 -South Canyon
2012 – Nepal
2013 – Superstition Mountains…Battleship
2013 – Grand Canyon Battleship
2013 – Grand Canyon Escalante Route
2013 – Camp Crevasse training
2013 – Camp Crevasse training
2013 – Mt Rainier…Emmons Glacier
2014-2015
2014 – Mt Humphreys Winter Climb
2015 – Colorado River Paddle
2014 Mt. Baker
2014 – New Hance Hike
2015 – Jacks Canyon
2014 – Phantom Creek
2015 Lake Mohave Paddle
2016 – 2019
2015 Lake Mohave Paddle
2016 – Tanner Trail
2016 – John Muir Trail
2016 – Hangover Hike
2017 – Moab Ultra
2019 – John Muir Trail
I can’t begin to describe what joy and enjoyment these folks and these trips have brought to our lives over the past eight years. And this extensive list isn’t nearly complete. It does not include all the conversations, emails, texts, phone calls, Flagstaff beer runs, picnics, dinners, birthday parties and just general time spent together with the Diapers and Depends group. It doesn’t include all the fantastic times we’ve spent with our grown children and extended family. It doesn’t include our large circle of friends here in Flagstaff. So, in this Thanksgiving week – it seems appropriate to be thankful not only for the opportunities we’ve had to explore so much of our world, but especially for all the wonderful people who are part of our lives.
Back in the day of full time pastoring, three small children and Sharon’s career in medicine “free time” was an unproven concept – sort of like the possibility of life on Mars. Theoretically possible, but requiring an almost impossible effort to determine if it actually existed. Fast forward a few decades and we find ourselves on the happy side of retirement with a seemingly endless supply of “free time” to follow John Muir’s desire, “The world is big and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.” However, in their timeless classic “Time” , Pink Floyd captured a sad reality about time.
So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking Racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way but you’re older, Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.
Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time…
Pink Floyd “Time”
While we now have almost endless “free time”, the reality of life is that no one has an endless amount of time. So what to do? Henry David Thoreau went into the woods to live simply “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.” He did not want to, “when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” I guess the point of all this is that Sharon and I recognize that time is a precious gift. We don’t want to waste a single day. We are also trying to balance our desire to see some of this big world, while also spending time with people we love. We are trying to balance our efforts to do things that bring us joy, while also doing things that have meaning and bring joy to others. A bit of a challenge that…
So, recently Sharon spent some time back in Wisconsin. Jim received Packer season tickets as a high school graduation present. While the Neubauer clan grew up attending Packer games, it’s been a while since Sharon and her Dad watched a game together. She also spent a wonderful weekend spent with a group of girls, many of whom went to school together from kindergarten all the way through high school. There was of course time for Jennifer – Sharon’s best good buddy (they go together like peas and carrots), as well as with sister Sue, Allen, Andrew and Eric. Over all, time well spent.
With Sharon otherwise occupied, I had time to finish one of my many, long overdue home projects. I’d re-routed and rebuilt some stairs between a middle and lower deck, but hadn’t had time (OK – I hadn’t taken the time) to finish all the railings. It was nice to have long swaths of time, uninterrupted by work and other responsibilities to cut, paint, and install fifty-one stiles and all the supporting pieces. Check one big item off my “to do” list.
With that job done and Sharon arriving back in town in a few days, I decided to reward myself with a micro-adventure. I drove up to a favorite spot for a lovely evening under the stars, followed by a paddle uphill from Lee’s Ferry the next day.
Perfect timing. Arrived at our usual spot right around sunset.
Five minutes to arrange bed in the back of “Little Bumpy” and set up the bag chair. Let the relaxation begin.
A long, peaceful evening burning the remnants of my deck railing project
Sun’s about to come up behind me again. Time to get moving.
Waterhole’s Canyon
Pretty magical place early in the morning…
As I paddled around the famous “Horseshoe Bend” of the Colorado river, I reckon I ended up in about 15,000 selfie pics
Floating down with the current doesn’t suck! Well, it didn’t until the headwind from Hell hit!
I had started the day with a vague notion of possibly paddling the entire 15.6 miles from Lee’s Ferry up to Glen Canyon dam. As always, it was hard but satisfying work paddling upstream. This time around, I managed to make it past the big “hill” at Horseshoe bend that had stopped me on a previous effort. For some reason I found it amusing to look up at all the people lining the edge of the canyon wall and realizing that my little boat and I were probably going to be in lots of selfie photos. At some point 12-13 miles upriver, it seemed that the current was speeding up and I was slowing down. Time to give in to gravity and just go with the flow. Except for a two mile stretch where a hellacious headwind actually blew me upstream while I was attempting to paddle down – with the current – it was a glorious float. Upon review – I considered this a day – actually several days – well spent.
For the past few years as we worked toward our goal of retiring, we often started conversations “So – speaking of retirement...” During these conversations we added to our list of things that needed to be done, ticked off progress made, but mostly talked about how we imagined our lives would be apart from work. Now that we’re actually living the dream, so to speak, a recent day captured it beautifully.
We caught an early morning ferry (“Just the two a yuhs?”) from the very tip of Wisconsin’s “thumb” sticking out into Lake Michigan across “Death’s Door” to Washington Island. It had probably been a quarter century since we’d made the trip. With no real plan, we eventually found ourselves at Jackson Harbor, looking a mile and a half across open water at Rock Island. The weather looked, the winds were light, so we decided to seize the carp and paddle over to the island. Rock Island is actually a Wisconsin State Park with regular ferry service during the summer months. This early in the season there was no ferry, so we had the island to ourselves. We spent several pleasant hours wandering the trails and exploring historic sites.
Taking the ferry from Door County to Washington Island.
Landing at Rock Island
Lake Michigan shoreline
Historic buildings on Rock Island
Sharon enjoying the fruits of her labors…a New Glarus Spotted Cow.
Back at the dock we relaxed and hydrated (it’s a safety issue) with an adult beverage before heading to the island’s performing arts center to watch the local school kids perform the musical “We are Monsters“. Pretty impressive for grade school kids. It must have been exciting for the kids to perform in front of an enthusiastic packed house. It was fun for us to be able to peer through this little window into island life.
Washington Island School play.
Our musicians/entertainment atthe Fiddlers Green.
After the play it was off to Fiddler’s Green Pub. Kate, the proprietor, is a fascinating lover of music and pub funkiness. Two long time friends of Kate came in to play and sing in the most informal of settings. By the end of the evening everyone in the bar had pretty much met everyone else, and also had been invited to play or sing. A friend of the musicians bravely picked up a guitar and shared a song. It was a magical evening.We ended up back at some property owned by a friend of a friend who graciously and enthusiastically encouraged us to stay on his land. We spent another peaceful night in the 4Runner.
As we imagined and dreamed, this was exactly the kind of day we hoped for…being active in beautiful places, meeting new people and adding unique experiences to our memory bank. Clearly, you don’t have to be retired to enjoy a day like this. You just have to look for, and then say yes when opportunities arise. For our part, we’re going to continue to seize the carp wherever and whenever possible.
Washington has long exerted a kind of magnetic pull on us. Whether it was from our previous home in Wisconsin, or since we moved to Arizona – we’ve both been to the state a number of times to sample the hiking/climbing smorgasbord. So when good friends Cailie and Rob moved to Enumclaw for work, it was a no-brainer that the Diapers/Depends gang would descend on their new hometown. All the usual suspects arrived in July 2014 and set out for our first objective – Mt Baker. That climb will be the subject of it’s own post at some later date.
Following that successful climb, Sharon and I had made plans to head farther north, into Canada, to spend a week sea kayak/camping. While we were both pretty comfortable in boats, neither of us had taken our kayaks beyond sheltered inland waters, so we were eager to expand our horizons a bit. Having said that, I was a bit nervous about the prospect of colder northern waters, the possibility of significant tidal currents, ocean swells – all things that would be new to us. After doing a fair amount of research, we decided that the Seychelt Inlet would be a good intro to ocean travel. So a few days after saying farewell to our climbing partners, we traded our ice axes for paddles.
Packing at the launch site, just outside Seychelt, BC
Super calm paddling up the inlet. Beautiful.
The wind picked up ever so slightly as the day wore on.
Nice sheltered campsite, just off the beach.
Getting an early start back to the car on day two.
Seychelt Inlet was lovely. The weather was perfect. We found a beautiful spot to camp and shared the beach with a few other travelers. It was all very nice…and ultimately…sort of boring. While Seychelt was technically “the ocean”, it was a very sheltered inlet, almost like a large lake. As we relaxed during the afternoon and evening we talked about our plans to spend several more days exploring the inlet. We both came to the conclusion no matter where we went, it would all be pretty much the same. Time for plan “B”. We decided to head back to the car in the morning, and make our way across Vancouver Island to the very remote village of Bamfield. All that was required was a ferry ride, a drive all the way across Vancouver Island, which included an 80 kilometer, four hour drive over unmarked, unpaved logging roads to get to our starting point.
Somewhat surprisingly, we reached out destination without any problem. Next morning we made our way to the visitor center, and came away with a parking pass and tons of excellent local info. The woman at the visitor center was a seasoned kayaker and freely shared her knowledge. Our plan was to head across a three mile wide channel to the Deer Group of islands. Diana Island was to be our first stop. After that, we would let our comfort level and weather determine the rest of our agenda.
The harbor at Bamfield.
Getting ready to launch.
Our first big open water crossing – three miles to Diana Island.
East coast of Vancouver Island
A great view
Clearly we weren’t the first people to camp on Diana Island – although at this time – we were the only ones.
As was often the case, our departure time didn’t coincide with a helpful tide
After the sheltered waters of the Seychelt inlet, the more open waters out of Bamfield were a bit more intimidating. Fortunately, the line of islands that make up the Deer group offered protection from the open Pacific, so we only had to deal with minor swell and some wind chop in our trip to Diane Island. Thanks to the information we’d received, we found a fantastic camp site and made ourselves at home. Then came the “adventure” (cue foreboding music)! It was still early in the day and Sharon decided she wanted to paddle completely around the island. Normally I would up for that kind of adventure. However, since the west side of the island was exposed to Pacific swells that may not have seen land since passing Japan, a “spirited” discussion ensued on the wisdom of such a trip. Eventually we did set out and very quickly met the aforementioned burly Pacific swells. As we went farther, the swells were topped with some sporty wind chop as well. With her slightly more stable kayak, Sharon had not a care in the world. My empty kayak was larger and was sitting a bit higher in the water. We hadn’t had enough time to get properly acquainted so it felt quite unstable to me. Additionally, I was pondering the fatal consequences of a swim in the 50 degree water off a rugged, rocky shore getting hammered by those burly waves. I can’t recall ever being quite so intensely focused – or as terrified. It was what I like to call a real “sphincter tightener” moment. It came as a huge relief (to me) when we finally rounded the corner back into the lee of the island and I was able to unclench my butt. As we completed the loop, we had an excellent – and timely – conversation about not scaring the crap out of Dave, and about different perceptions and tolerance of risk.
After our night on Diane Island, we headed north and spent two more nights and three days exploring the islands and islets in this little corner of Barkley Sound. Nothing quite as dramatic as the trip around Diane, but absolutely fascinating. We wove around small rock outcroppings, paddled through a sea arch, observed masses of starfish clustered in the intertidal zone on rock faces, passed into and out of impenetrable walls of fog and paddled under blue bird skies. Generally we just had a great adventure exploring the area.
We both very much enjoyed paddling around the rugged islands in this group.
The amount of sea life visible in the intertidal zone on the rocks was amazing. We heard some years later, something caused a massive die off of marine life in this area. Very sad.
Camp #2
Our little bay – filled with water!
As always, our bay disappeared just about the time we needed to leave.
We passed this arch on the way north. Later on our way back south, with the tide coming in we were able to surf through the opening.
A view of camp at the Ross Islets. Notice the wall of fog in the background.
Another view from our camp on Ross Islet.
Low tide. At the far left, Andrew and Katya’s kayaks are visible.
McGyver would have been proud!
Back to Bamfield – another adventure winding to a close.
Our last night was spent on a lovely little beach on Ross Islet. At low tide, a bit of dry ground emerged that allowed us to walk across to another islet to meet our neighbors. We spent some pleasant time visiting with Katya and Andrew from Seattle. From our conversation it was clear they were experienced paddlers. We exchanged contact information and only later did we find out that among his many, many talents Andrew has built a number of strip built and skin on frame kayaks. Katya is a professional photographer and videographer. Many of her images and videos are amazing. As so often happens on our trips, we enjoy and seek solitude, yet many of the memorable moments involve the fascinating people we meet.
We passed a pleasant evening on our tiny island. Somehow we managed to leave our poles on shore after a lunch stop earlier in the day, so we had to seriously McGyver our tent in order to have some shelter. After that small chore and dinner were taken care of, I recall spending a fair amount of time just staring out across the water – at the small mountains on the mainland – at the other islands – at the clouds and fog that appeared, then disappeared – at the animal life that made an appearance from time to time. The entire experience was just so – pleasant and satisfying. As always happens, we talked of plans and ideas for other similar trips – here and elsewhere. Although as Frost noted, “Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.” As wonderful as this area was, the western coast of Canada is so rich with opportunities for kayak trips, in reality I doubt if we would ever come back. After an uneventful crossing the following morning, this trip joined so many others – going from adventure to memory. But what a fine memory to have.
I can’t recall exactly when the seed was first planted. It might have been half a lifetime ago when I had the opportunity to paddle a sea kayak on Lake Winnebago. It might have been articles I came across describing epic sea kayak voyages. Whatever the genesis, somehow I got the idea that it would fun and interesting to build my own kayak. I spent at least fifteen years researching the topic – at first reading books, and then doing internet searches. Over the years I pondered all the options. Strip built or plywood stitch & glue? Plans or a kit? How would I really use a boat if I made one? That would have a bearing on the size and design. Finally which designer or company offered a boat that inspired some passion?
Especially in later years, the growth of the internet allowed me to see lots of different boats and and plans from different designers. This really helped me to settle on a design, and a model that truly ‘spoke’ to me. When life circumstances finally allowed me to pursue this dream, I settled on a strip built kayak from designer Vaclav Stejskal of One Ocean Kayaks. ( One Ocean Kayaks – Cape Ann Storm ). His web site offered an amazing amount of information, and the lines of “Storm” model really called to me.
Set Up. After purchasing the appropriate number of western red cedar, pine and redwood planks from a local hardwood seller, I set up the table saw to rip the boards into 1/4″ thick strips. Next I ran them through the router to put a bead and cove on each strip. Once the set up was complete, it took an entire day to prepare all the strips I would need for the boat.
The boards were 10′ long, so I needed 20′ of space to run the boards.
Table saw with extended fence and feather boards.
The router set up. The same bit had both bead and cove blades.
My home made router table and vacuum fence. Cost next to nothing, and worked brilliantly!
The finished product. As you can see, the strips were slightly thicker than the router bit. This didn’t seem like it would matter, but added several hours of sanding down the road.
Construction. I am thankful to the many builders who documented every step of their project. I’m not going to go into that level of detail. My goal here is to give a general overview of the process for anyone who might be interested in understanding what it takes to make a strip kayak. If anyone has specific questions, I am more than happy to share info. Simply email me or leave a message below.
Step 1: The form. Pictures are worth a whole bunch of words
The station plans are cut out and glued to particle board….
…and then cut out.
A long, straight “strongback” is constructed.
The stations are aligned and attached to the strongback. It was a real pain, but a critical step in a getting a properly aligned boat. Notice all the strips to the left.
Step 2: Attach the strips. I used softer pine at the seam between the top and bottom half. The pine bent more easily and provided a nice visual at the waterline. Western red cedar was used for the bulk of the boat. I used a strip of redwood on the deck.
The first strip of the bottom half.
I used a combination of clamps, staples, and shrink wrap to hold the strips in place. Each of the strips was also glued to its neighbor as they were put in place.
During construction, the ends overlapped and extended beyond the bow and stern.
There was definitely a learning curve to efficiently placing the strips…but over all it was an enjoyable process. I really like Vaclav’s plan for finishing the bottom and top. Rather than hand trim every single piece as they came together, I simply needed to get close to the center “finish” strips. You can see them in the last picture. Then using a strip with no bead or cove, I traced a line, cut along the line, and placed in the last piece on either side.
The trips are roughly trimmed just to get close to a center strip. This is the redwood strip on the top.
A strip is used to mark a line.
I cut along the line.
The strip is added giving a nicely finished appearance. I did this on the top and bottom.
Step 3. Finish the ends. For some reason I had a hard time visualizing this step.
During construction, the ends overlapped and extended beyond the bow and stern.
Those overlapped extensions were carefully trimmed and shaped. Several thin strips of redwood were laminated and glued over the bow and stern, and then carefully sanded into shape.
Step 4. Complete the top half. If I were to do it again, I think I would have sanded and perhaps even fiberglassed the bottom before proceeding. That was an option, but I was eager to see the whole boat take shape. I re-worked the stand, flipped the boat, and completed the strips on top.
At this point, the boat was really taking shape.
I placed a redwood strip the length of the topside for contrast, and for ease in finishing the strips.
All done except for the two finish strips.
Step 4. Sanding. With the strips done, it was time to remove all the staples. There are techniques for holding the strips together without staples. I think if I was concerned about building a museum quality vessel, I might consider that. I simply wanted a nice looking boat, and I don’t feel the staples detract from the beauty. Just my humble, yet devastatingly accurate opinion. Once the staples were removed, it was time to sand. Well, actually, I starting by using a block plane. It didn’t take long before I realized my mistake of making the strips a bit too thick. With apologies to woodworking purists, I broke out the belt sander. I followed that with another round with the block plane, and eventually graduated to a long, homemade sanding block. I did lots, and lots, and lots of sanding. Eventually though I ended up with a silky smooth surface.
Step 5. Fiberglass. This was an exciting step. I taped the joint between the top and bottom halves, and draped plastic to protect the half not being glassed. I used 4 oz e-glass on top, and two layers of 6 oz. glass on the bottom.
First of several thin layers of resin. For subsequent layers I used a roller.
Loving it!
Step 6. Cut the cockpit.
The cockpit dimensions are drawn on some particle board and transferred to the boat.
Measure 47 times, then verify a few dozen more times, then measure a few more times…
…and end up with a perfectly sized and placed cockpit hole. Whew!! Super nerve wracking.
Hot glue and white glue a bunch of leftover strips around the perimeter of the hole.
Cut the strips a consistent height above the deck, and place a layer of foam.
Tape and put plastic in place. (Resin doesn’t stick to plastic)
Then put several layers of fiberglass and carbon fiber to make the cockpit lip.
After the resin dried, the ring was removed and attached a bit later. I really like the contrast of the carbon fiber with the wood.
Step 7. Separate the halves and fiberglass the inside. With a little firm love, the top and bottom were pried off the form, and the form was discarded. The insides of both halves were sanded smooth (royal pain) and fiberglassed. The wood was now completely sealed inside and out with fiberglass and resin.
Step 8. Attach cockpit rim and hatches.
I used thickened paste to glue the cockpit rim in place.
The hatches were carefully cut.
After taping, the hatch location was marked and then cut with a jig saw.
The hatch was then taped back in place and a layer of plastic was placed inside the deck. Multiple layers of carbon fiber were wetted out.
After trimming, the rim was glued in place. I ended up with a flush hatch cover.
Step 9. Join halves. It took some more firm love and some BF & I (brute force and ignorance) to rejoin the halves. I used 3″ fiberglass tape inside and out to join the halves. A few layers of resin and it is almost impossible find the joint.
Step 10. Varnish. Ultraviolet rays will degrade fiberglass resin, therefore it needs to be protected. I added several coats of good quality varnish with UV protection additives. Not only did this provide UV protection, it gave a beautiful glossy finish. This will need to be reapplied every three years or so, depending on usage and exposure.
Step 11. Fitting out. At this point I actually have a boat, but it needed lots of detail work to be truly functional. 1) Bulkheads in front of and behind the cockpit. This gives two water tight storage areas. The front bulkhead is also strategically placed to serve as my foot rest. 2) Bungie attachment points for the bungy cord holding the hatches in place, and for on deck storage. 3) Carve a 3″ piece of hard foam for the seat. 4) Resin pour in the ends to strengthen the bond between halves and provide a place to attach carry handles. 5) Misc. I’ve gradually made tweaks here and there to improve functionality and comfort.
The finished product.
The christening…a little beer on the bow.
The maiden voyage.
Apache Lake, AZ
Colorado River
This boat is not a garage queen. She was designed and built with just this sort of thing in mind.
Final Thoughts. You’ve heard it said about some trips that it’s all about the journey, not the destination. This boat was both. I thoroughly enjoyed the journey. I was able to lose myself for hours at a time, placing strips, sanding, etc. It might seem like an overwhelming task, possibly beyond your capabilities. But really, building a strip kayak is just combining lots and lots of small, relatively straightforward tasks. A number of people have asked me how long it took to build. I was going to keep track of the hours, but quickly gave that up. It took about 8 months to have a usable boat, and then a few more months to gradually get it completely fitted and adjusted the way I wanted it. If I were to do another, with what I learned on this boat, I feel I could probably complete one in half the time.
It was about the journey, and it was also a joy seeing the boat gradually take shape. And having now arrived at the destination, I have a boat that I love. I love how it paddles. I love how it looks. I love how it fits me perfectly. I love that it can transport me to beautiful locations. If you have even the slightest inclination to take on a project like this, I would without hesitation encourage you to start. Seize the Carp!
Update…2020 Refinish
Odd year 2020 eh? One of the positives of ruined trip plans and isolation is that I had time to refresh my now six year old boat. As much as I enjoy the beauty of it, I determined early on that this was a boat that was going to be used. As a result, it definitely needed some loving. Given the age and condition of the varnish, I decided to do more than lightly sand and recoat. I removed all hardware and attempted to remove all the varnish. In a few spots where there were especially deep scratches, I added some new epoxy. After four coats of new varnish, new deck lines and bungees, it amazingly looks almost like new.
It’s the title of best selling book. There are memes all over the internet. “Don’t sweat the small stuff – it’s all small stuff.” There’s a valid point there, but I also think it’s become a bit of a cliche – and it’s not always true. I work in Quality Control. If I don’t sweat the “small stuff” I probably won’t work in QC very long. A big part of making relationships work is “sweating the small stuff”…saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, picking up dirty socks without being asked, really listening, noticing acts of kindness and complimenting, saying “I love you”, etc.
It seems that there might also be a tendency to overlook the “small stuff” in favor of dreaming/planning/prepping for “big stuff” trips. We definitely look forward to the big one and two week backpacking, or boating, or climbing trips that we typically take each year. Part of the fun for us in planning a big trip is talking about what we hope to do, discussing variations and possibilities, etc. The big trips we’ve taken certainly hold a special place in our hearts and memory. There’s a danger, however, in focusing only on the “big stuff” trips. You could easily miss out on the joy and satisfaction that comes from the “small stuff”.
This past Memorial weekend was a classic example. We had planned what for us was a “big deal” trip. Unfortunately those plans fell through. So, we stayed in town and accepted an invite from Allison K for an early Saturday morning hike to a classic AZ swimming hole. It was an amazing morning! We had a great
Allison K and the rest of the Gore gang on the Bell trail (not to be confused with the Bell Rock trail in Sedona)
Trying to decide if I’ll join Sharon in the water. I did. Great choice!
Enjoying the fruits of their labor
time chatting with Allison and her friends on the relatively mellow hike. We enjoyed the beauty of the creek and the red rock cliffs at the swimming hole. We enjoyed the refreshing swim in crystal clear water. The more adventurous souls among us enjoyed cliff jumping. We beat the heat and the massive crowds of tourons descending on the creek as we were leaving. We were home by mid-day.
That same weekend Sharon and I took a trail run on one of our favorite Elden trails. We hung out. We talked. We went down town and enjoyed a pint at one of the great Flag microbrews. For the price of a couple of beers we had a great weekend doing “small stuff.” The point of all this, if there really needs to be a point, is the encouragement to not wish your life away looking forward to and waiting for the “big” trips and the grand adventures. Sweating the small stuff may just be another way to say “make the most of every day!” Enjoy the little adventures whenever and wherever you find them. Seize the Carp!
Scottish poet Bobbie Burns famously said, “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.” In other (plain English) words…sometimes your plans go to crap. Occasionally this gloomy Scottish view of life has proven to be true. When you are planning a trip into the Grand Canyon at the end of June, plans gang aft agley. There are plenty of opportunities for serious misery and suffering. June in the Canyon generally brings surface of the sun temps and crowds of misguided tourons roaming the trails…two of my favorite things. But you know what, sometimes…things turn out even better than planned. We’d both read glowing reports of the beautiful pools and waterfalls of Phantom Creek, a small side creek just north of Phantom Ranch. For that adventure, in spite of the drawbacks, summer really was the right time.
So with irrational optimism firmly in place, we set out to fill the extra four spots on our permit. Co-worker Karen seemed an obvious choice. As far as I knew, Karen never met an outdoor adventure or challenge she didn’t like. A year earlier she had been part of a Diapers and Depends Expedition on the Escalante route and had been on several other Canyon hikes. True to form, she was the first to say yes. Then she said, “There is an intern in our office this summer. She’s really nice and she likes to do stuff like this. Could she come along?” Absolutely! Two down, two to go. Next to sign up was our downstairs neighbor Heather. She hadn’t much (any?) backpacking experience. Perfect – she wouldn’t know any better. Plus she was a great person and a joy to spend time with. That left one open spot on the permit.
Allow me to digress. Sharon and I were on our way home from a long Colorado weekend. Passing through Kayenta, we saw a touring cyclist standing with a cardboard sign that read “Flagstaff”. Having toured, and knowing that it was a hot, windy, two day ride to Flagstaff, we immediately stopped and offered a ride. With his bike strapped on top of the 4Runner, we proceeded to get to know Sander van (lots of letters) from the Netherlands. He’d spent six weeks on his bicycle touring the southwest. Now he was nursing a sore knee and wanted to get back to Flagstaff where he had started his trip. He was an extremely pleasant young man. At one point we started talking about the Grand Canyon and Sharon gave me the wide eyed questioning look. I nodded. She offered that if he had the time, we had an open spot on our permit to camp in the Canyon a few days hence. And just like that, our permit was filled.
Having the day off, Sharon and Sander left early and spent the day lounging in the shade along Bright Angel Creek. Heather, Karen, Jeannette and I headed to the Canyon after work to make a late afternoon dash down the Kaibab. Very early on it became apparent that this was going to be a special trip. As the girls got to know each other, they shared their insights into men and dating – as if I wasn’t there. The knowledge I gained on the drive would have been valuable info 40 years earlier. C’est la vie!
Karen, Heather and Jeannette at the south Kaibab. To beat the heat we opted for a late afternoon start.
Our favorite portion of the s. Kaibab at my favorite time of day.
Normally we sleep under the stars in the Canyon. Mice and scorpions at Bright Angel led us to bring tents. It was so hot, 2nd night we decided we’d leave the mice and scorpions alone and trust them to do the same.
What was special was that this group of semi-strangers very quickly melded into a congenial, fun loving unit. After dark that first evening together, we all walked down to the boat beach and laid on the sand. There in the dark, watching shooting stars, listening to the whisper of the water, we took turns telling stories about ourselves and hearing the stories of others. We talked about school, work, adventures, plans and dreams. It was magical. And the real fun hadn’t yet begun!
Day two: A short trip up the north Kaibab brought us to Phantom Creek. We’d walked by this unassuming little side canyon a number of times on our hikes and never really noticed it. We spent the entire day talking, laughing, exploring, splashing, swimming, building butt dams and in general, seizing the carp.
Ready to leave the n. Kaibab …and the shade.
It was blazing hot – as expected – but we were in water all day.
River Trip motto holds true here as well. “If you’re hot – you’re stupid”
Fine looking group
The creek drops from one pour over, waterfall and swimming hole to the next.
Heather, Sander and Jeannette demonstrating proper hydration technique. Sander no doubt was pinching himself to see if he was dreaming, and certainly considered himself the luckiest man on earth.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
Butt dam
It was truly one of those perfect days. Time passed without us being aware of its passing. With nowhere to go and all day to get there, we lounged in pools until it seemed time to look around the corner to see what the next pool or waterslide looked like. And so the day passed into evening. Back at camp everyone pondered sleeping options to make the heat slightly less oppressive. For most of us, that meant ditching the tents. The picnic table was prime real estate…the picnic table bench quite less so. Thankfully the mice and scorpions respected our personal space on the ground and left us alone. In any case, we weren’t going to be sleeping long. We, along with half the campground, were up and on the trail long before sunrise to get as far as possible before the Orb of Death made its appearance.
Burns was right…plans often don’t go as planned. Sure, sometimes things can go pear shaped and misery ensues. But just as often, at a time and in a place when you don’t necessarily expect it, with people you may not really know, magic can strike and things can go far better than planned. The thing is – you never know which kind of trip you’re on until you’re in it. One thing’s for certain. If the fear of things going wrong keeps you from getting out and taking chances, its certain you’ll never experience the magic of spending an amazing weekend with special people. Thanks to Sharon, Sander, Karen, Jeannette, and Heather for a memorable time.
The Grand Canyon and the Colorado River exert a powerful gravitational pull on folks from Flagstaff. Whether its hiking, backpacking or floating the river, you can hardly swing an oar around Flag without hitting someone who regularly partakes of the pleasures of the Canyon. It is an easy drive to go hike and explore for the day. Learning the ins and outs of the backcountry permit system (and some flexibility) opens the door to multi-day trips. Getting the big enchilada – a float trip down the Canyon – that usually takes a large commitment of time and money.
It is possible to get on the Colorado River and get a taste of the Grand with only a small investment of time and money. Lee’s Ferry is located 130 miles north of Flagstaff. All river trips through the Grand Canyon start at Lee’s Ferry and end 200+ miles downriver. Again, a big commitment (well worthwhile I might add). However, the 17 miles upriver to the Glen Canyon Dam, well that is another matter. For the princely sum of $77 dollars, you, your boat and your gear can catch a ride up river. http://www.raftthecanyon.com/raft-the-river/back-hauling-services/ . Three things have kept us from using this service. #1 – I’m a cheap bastard. #2 – they will only accommodate boats up to 15 feet in length, so I’m out. #3 – pick up time is 2-ish in the afternoon, so that pretty much rules out a day trip, if that’s what you’re looking for.
The other (very do-able) option is to paddle upstream. You will get a workout. How much depends on how much water is being released from the dam. At about 4 miles there is a riffle that may require you to pull your boat along the shore. At the iconic Horseshoe Bend there is a riffle that I was unable to power through (“the kids at school all call me T-Rex ‘cuz my arms won’t support my body weight” – Bobbie Hill). That was plenty far for a day paddle and made for an amazing float back down.
If you want to stretch your legs, there is exploring to done at Horseshoe Bend. Just before the 4 mile riffle, Waterholes Canyon enters on river right as you head upstream. Definitely worth the time to explore. One other hike of note is the Spencer Trail that takes off from Lee’s Ferry. It’s short, steep and offers some amazing views.
If you’re looking for a bargain Canyon float experience…check it out. STC!
Andrew pondering a right turn at Lee’s Ferry
It was a bit frosty on this February morning. We were waiting impatiently for the sun to reach us.
Andrew feeling kind of small. The Canyon does that to you.
Waterholes…??
You can hike back almost to major cliff. It is possible to descend Waterholes…but it requires a major, several hundred foot rappel down that cliff. I know person who did it, and got stuck half way down…no thanks!
By the time we headed back down, the temps were much more pleasant.
Sharon enjoying the view from half way up the Spencer Trail. Along this stretch we were treated to several condors flying in formation along the cliff face.
Once on top, there are endless opportunities to go exploring. This is looking down at Waterholes Canyon.
Two months after Andrew and I paddled to Waterholes, I went up as far as Horseshoe Bend. After the first riffle, lots of calm water.
Weather was a little nicer in April…actually it was just about perfect. Later in the summer it gets surface of the sun hot up there.
It was pretty sporty surfing down waves all the way across Wahweap and Warm Bay. I was not unhappy being back on dry land.
A perfect camp spot
Did I mention that I had the beach all to myself..???
Always fun skimming through ultra clear shallow water.
Clouds building in late afternoon as I make the final turn for home after coming out of Castle Rock cut.
In 2011 Alastair Humphreys pioneered the concept of the microadventure. The concept is simple. It is basically an overnight outdoor adventure that is “small and achievable, for normal people with real lives.” Out of necessity, it is a concept Sharon and I embraced far before it had a name. It is a concept that I wholeheartedly encourage.
With the weekend looming and Sharon out of town playing grandma, I pondered my options. I could put up the backer board in our new shower project. I could hang the new bathroom door, or any number of other home projects that have languished since we moved into the Tree House four years ago. But then I realized – Sharon would feel massively guilty if she spent the weekend playing with Oliver while I slaved away on the house. Wishing to spare my lovely bride any undue emotional trauma, I chose instead a suitable microadventure.
Lake Powell in February has water temperatures in the upper 40’s. The weather forecast for the weekend, upper 40’s…and sunny. Perfect boating weather. I reckoned my chances of running into a thumping party boat wanting to camp 30 feet down the beach were somewhat lessened this time of year. Perfect. Grab camping gear, throw the boat on the Suby, leave work a bit early and hit the Wahweap launch ramp by 3:30pm. Stow gear, park car and launch by 4:15 pm. That left a little more than 2 hours to travel the five miles to my prospective campsite.
Good news, less good news. The less good news was that a brisk wind was kicking up some pretty good waves and whitecaps. The good news, the unbelievable, unheard of, almost never before in the history of mankind news was that the wind was at my back!! According to my gps, it only took a little over an hour to travel five miles…which left plenty of daylight to find the perfect spot on a lovely (DESERTED) stretch of beach on the eastern end of Warm Bay.
Saturday dawned clear, cold (upper 20’s) and perfectly still. I hiked and went exploring away from the beach until the temps climbed a bit. My original plan had been to continue on up lake another 5-ish miles, camp and then paddle all the way back on Sunday. My beautiful (did I mention DESERTED?) beach/bay was just so perfect, I opted instead to simply enjoy the perfect day. I relaxed in my camp chair and read a good book. That’s it. Nothing death defying. No ultra anything. Nothing more strenuous than grabbing the requisite food and drink to avoid starvation and dehydration and an occasional leisurely stroll down my own, personal, deserted beach. I just sat and enjoyed the view, read my book, and considered how blessed I was.
By 2pm the clouds were beginning to thicken, so I saddled up and paddled the long way home, exploring some of the nether reaches of Warm Bay on the way. Overall, I felt I had a sufficient amount of fun to avoid placing any guilt trips on Sharon. You’re welcome dear!
