by Irene Owsley with help of other trip members

Sunday, August 16
The trip began well (and did end well, by the way) – starting with a week-long parking space negotiated by Nathan at Rockwood Conference Center for left-behind cars, a new LAKS van complete with board in the rear, and an engrossing Sunday NYT crossword puzzle, finished off enroute by Alexina, Anne Nuechterlein, and Anne Kibler (who from now on will be known as Anne and Kibler, respectively).  We no sooner hit Frederick, though, than a wrong turn took us off course momentarily (in our back yard, no less!).  Whoever was driving got some grief.  And it was not the last time, either, for an unplanned detour.  But we had crackerjack navigators on the whole and some devoted, competent drivers (Alexina, Gene, and Shane) who shared the burden with Tom, and the rest of us were truly grateful for this.

We made Watertown, NY, by about 5 pm to work out the road kinks at Hole Brothers, a park-and-play spot on the Black River.  With a late afternoon glow on the water, a few locals graciously accepted ten boats from out of nowhere into the queue.  In true Tom fashion, he made a game of it and began timing everyone’s stay on the wave, holding out a beer as the grand prize.  Shane won with a 24-second surf, beating out Carrie in close second at 20 seconds and Alexina a distant third with only 12 seconds (but a successful spin).

After changing in the parking lot by Hole Brothers, we retired to the campsite to set up tents, which encouraged an immediate “fessing up” of those who snore and those who don’t – the snorers creeping off to a far corner of the campsite.  Late dinner in Watertown at an Italian restaurant with about half of the world’s supply of fake plastic grapes hanging from the ceiling and quite vividly painted murals of Italian countryside on one side and an electronic keno board on the opposite wall (we got tips from the waitress on how to play, but we had all conveniently left our “gambling cash” at home).  Tom promptly disappeared for the whole meal to go shopping, returning for the last five minutes to wolf down his salad before we paid the check.

Monday, August 17
Fresh melon slices and grilled chorizo for breakfast (along with the usual juice, bagels, and oatmeal, of course).  The boys got peer-pressured into finishing off the copious amounts of chorizo – tough duty, but they managed. Tom kept the sleepy masses from revolting with a (not so) quick stop at Watertown’s best drive-though coffee joint – Brew-Ha-Ha – and everyone got sufficiently caffeinated.  Shane claimed his “longest surf” prize in the form of a milkshake.  Made the border crossing in the vicinity of the Thousand Islands with no incident, no undue questioning of Tom, this time, and his youthful exploits.  Headed north through lovely rural farmland to Owl Rafting, an outfitter on the Ottawa River with great facilities and hand’s down the most scenic campsite of the trip.  We pitched our tents on a wide expanse of manicured lawn dotted with picnic tables, facing the broad, calm Ottawa River.  Behind us lay farmland and a newly mown, golden hayfield (complete with loud rumbling farm equipment running well into the night!).  Not even Shane’s complaints about how far the campsite was from the parking lot (including a Facebook posting) could dampen our intrepid spirits!  A stunning sunset the first evening with some humidity in the air, a crisper evening the next night with the sky awash in stars and the milky way.  Spectacular.

We met up with Jake Weiss, our second instructor (and designated rescuer par-excellence) who had driven up separately from Pennsylvania, and quickly brought him into the fold.  He immediately became an integral part of our extended paddling family.

By about 3 pm, we put on the river to do just the first rapid, McCoy’s.  Was there a little anticipation in the air?  Tom had us doing stroke drills and onside-offside rolls like mad as we approached the forested island where we could leave our boats to scout.  As soon as we got to the rocky outcrop to view the rapid, the sky let loose with a pelting rain and gusts of wind which blew the rain sideways and lifted the foam off the top of Sattler’s and Phil’s Holes.  The heavy rain set the perfect dramatic tone, as we stared wide-eyed at the gaping maws of two of the biggest holes most of us had ever seen … and then shuddered when told of the line squeezed in between the two!  We looked at the rapid from the top…..from the bottom…..from the middle….with plenty of pointing and discussion and the beginning, for us, of a new feature-based vocabulary:  “Threading the Needle” was only the first of many river identifications and lines that would be seared in our dreams each night.

Jake executed the move flawlessly for us, but Gene was our probe, and he promptly got EATEN.  The idea was to line up, cut across the right corner of Sattler’s Hole, and paddle hard towards river left (thereby “threading the needle”) in order to avoid the left edge of Phil’s Hole just below.  Well, we saw just how key it was to hit enough of the corner of the upper hole so as not to be swept into Phil’s, because that’s exactly where the force of the current took Gene.  He swam for the first and ONLY time on the trip (none of the subsequent rapids ever seemed to trouble him!).  By the end of the afternoon, though, most people did the rapid two or three times.  It’s situated on a right dogleg in the river so that there are two surfing areas at the bottom, Babyface and Corner Hole.  You can carry up and do the whole thing again and again and then paddle some flat water back to your car!  It’s super-convenient for all the Ottawa river-rat play boaters, of which there are many – kind of like a super-sized version of paddling out to MD & VA chutes.

There’s another line at McCoy’s without trying to “thread the needle” – you drive straight through the center of Phil’s Hole lining up with a crowning wave above and then take an almost imperceptible small opening in the middle of the hole.  Tom led Anne down into this “hero-line” but didn’t quite punch through, and as Anne dropped into the hole she found Tom in mid-surf looking back at her.  Now anyone who knows Tom knows he’s a gentleman’s gentleman, so it was no surprise that when he slid over to give Anne the gentler side of the hole, while he got heavily cartwheeled and chomped by Mr. Phil. Anne flipped, flushed and rolled, while Tom “fought the good fight” …. he gave Phil a few good uppercuts, but then his helmet was ripped off by the force (a faulty strap) and afraid of loosing his glasses, he put his hand on his head with one hand and pulled his skirt with the other.  We were just happy to see him again, regardless.  His helmet was gone, a relic from his Tibet trip, but we rescued the foam liner.  When your fearless leader swims the first rapid of the first day, is that a bad omen?

A lesser event of the afternoon was a successful combat roll by Irene after being pulled into the edge of Phil’s – not noteworthy at the time but it would become so later in the week after seeing her roll disappear in the big water.  April never quite figured out the line until the next day, shooting through Phil’s two of her three attempts of the rapid and losing everything in her PFD (including camera and sunscreen).  But she made her roll every time!

Steak dinner and a complimentary beer (“Steam Whistle” beer – brewed with love from Canada’s crystal clear – if somewhat bug-infested – springwater) at a picnic table alongside the river at Owl Rafting with rhubarb pie a la mode for dessert.  Golden light on the water, towering cumulous clouds in the distant sky.  A perfect day.

Tuesday, August 18
Our first full day on the Ottawa.  Middle channel.  McCoy’s again, multiple runs, dodging the huge yellow and blue rafts that seemed to overtake the place amongst all the play boaters.  It was a busy place! Anne threaded the needle successfully (Shane and Jeannine also?), everyone else got roll practice after a brush with Phil’s, and Irene swam, blasting a submerged rock with her backside on the way down making it somewhat painful to sit in her boat on her right side for the rest of the trip.

After some (or ALOT of) flat water comes Iron Ring where the river squeezes through a narrow channel and cascades like a slide over about a 10 ft drop in a smooth symmetrical V-shaped tongue with lots of foam and boils at the bottom.  It seemed faster but “cleaner” the first day with a higher level, and “beefier” and more fun on the second when the river level was slightly lower.  Almost everyone rolled at the bottom, but Shane made the nicest recovery by pushing off the rock wall on river right while he was upside down.  Afterwards Irene, April, Kibler, and Anne along with Tom took an alternative channel, called Little Trickle, a creeky, curvey series of small drops.  Meanwhile, Alexina and Gene – who had finally worked up their dander to run Iron Ring – and Shane – who ran the drop a second time – followed Jake down their own channel to re-convene for lunch.

We spent a long time surfing and eating lunch in the warm sunshine at Angel’s Kiss, one of our favorite surfing spots of the trip, where Gene and Kibler were noted for their spins (Gene says his was blind luck, Kibler’s a wily veteran’s experienced skillfulness).  Jake hand-surfed, side-surfing the wave, doing turns and balancing almost motionless on the foam, generally succeeding in letting the rest of us know that we all had a loooong way to go….

At Butterfly, another surfing wave (named for its wing-like feature that flies into the air?), everyone charged in and worked hard at surfing.  The refrain, especially for Anne and Jeannine, was “Don’t flip, don’t flip!” because of their facility to recover easily and propensity to end a session of surfing with a roll, more for fun than anything else.  This little saying became our mantra for the rest of the trip.  April attacked Butterfly with aplomb, and when she was finally kicked off and rolled up, everyone was cheering.  Yes, she claims she was breathing and bracing, even if it was upside down!

Next up was a beautifully picturesque Class V called the Dragon’s Tongue (a single feature of the whole rapid called Garvin’s) that none of us had any business being near.  Luckily, a creeky little side drop provided a river left sneak around the nasty business.  Tom’s run down was like a slow gambol, controlled as usual.  He set himself up (out of his boat) in an eddy halfway down to make sure we made a tricky turn over a small drop next to an undercut rock.  All looked hopeful and easy, but the Class V river demons wouldn’t allow us to pass without exacting their toll in bumps, bruises, lost flesh, and general carnage.  Carrie and April both ended up putting deep grooves in their helmets on this run and the bow of Carrie’s boat looks like an upturned nose now, from being crunched on the rocks.  Jeannine got her roll at the bottom but decided to walk it with April the following day, not liking the experience of the required technical moves in shallow water and exposed rocks.

Irene made it the first day, but in the shallower flow the second day, flipped at the curve and got dragged upside down over the rocks at the bottom.  Medics Gene and Tom stopped the bleeding from her thumbs, cleaned and wrapped them with bandaids and duct tape so she was good to go.

We could understand why the rapid “Upper No Name” never got a name …. a bit of fun surfing but not much else.  Lower No Name, however, should have been named “Big Fun Bouncy Wave Train Rapid.”  It’s a series of big waves, at 4 or 5 feet, with a hole to avoid towards the bottom right.  April executed five (yes – count ‘em – One, Two, Three, Four, FIVE) successful combat rolls on this single rapid!  It was so much fun that Shane, Gene, Anne and Tom carried up and ran it again.

Then the flat water…. Tom took off ahead to lead us to a rendezvous with the pontoon boat from Owl Rafting, where we were to have an on-board cookout and a cushy ride back to home base at Owl Rafting (and maybe a shower?).  Trouble was, we kept paddling, and paddling, and paddling, and then we paddled some more.  An occasional riffle, but there wasn’t much help from the mighty Ottawa!  Around bends and still no sight of the boat – or anything.  Now it was late afternoon, the sky turbulent with ominous gray clouds in one direction, patches of blue sky and billowing white cumulous clouds in another.  A hard falling rain shower pocked the surface of the river for just a few minutes and then once through it, we saw the rain illuminated from behind by the low sun.  Mist hung around the small islands and in the thick green pine forest along the shore.  It was beautiful!  Each of us paddled in solo reveries, theorizing the options:  we missed the boat, we’ll have to camp out tonight somewhere on the shore, Tom will do one of his marathon runs through the woods and bring back a boat, we’ll have to attain back up river to one of the rafting take-outs, and so on.  We were one tired crew…..  After maybe an hour of flat water paddling (4 miles?), we saw a large motorized skiff from Owl Rafting, and yes, indeed, the pontoon boat wasn’t too far ahead.  Huge relief.  The tempo picked up.

We hauled the kayaks on board the barge-like craft, changed on the open deck into dry clothes as discretely as possible, and chowed down on dinner, neither remarkable nor plentiful (no seconds for our starving boys), but heartily appreciated.  As the boat approached camp, we spied Jake’s tent lying upside-down on the muddy river bank, having been blown away in the bad weather.  That’s the last time he’d probably leave it unstaked….

Back at Owl Rafting, after several denials from the employees, Tom cajoled the owner into a round of beers for the weary warriors (they are “complimentary” there – no liquor license?), as we sat on their deck overlooking the river.  It was then we discovered that Jake had taken the van to get a little evening surfing in at McCoy’s/Corner Hole, and much of our gear, clothes, and toiletries went with him, so we had nothing to do but wait for Jake’s after-dark return.  Two discussions ensued:  (1) what were people’s preferences for paddling the next day, and later, (2) Tom suggested we pick a “controversial” topic and discuss it (we picked health care, and yes, it actually generated some passionate opinions!).  While preferences certainly varied on the next day’s paddling options, it was clear we wouldn’t reach consensus.  As leader, Tom made the final call, feeling that a quick run of the middle channel of the Ottawa followed by a drive to the Gatineau would be the best choice for Wednesday.

Jake returned finally, and we ragged on him affectionately for absconding with the van and all our gear.  He was so apologetic that we had to reassure him that he was still our revered guide/instructor and most favorite happy-go-lucky youth.

Wednesday, August 19
Middle channel again, no scouting of McCoy’s.  Some of us found that it looked different from our boats with a slightly lower river level.  Anne side-surfed Phil’s unintentionally but came out fine, upright, smiling and unfazed as usual.  We adhered to the 3-surf rule per rapid, otherwise our surfing fiends (a majority of the group!) could have spent all day running the river.  Iron Ring was noticeably lower, too, and though a bit beefier everyone ran it (except Irene & April) and then carried back up to take the creeky “Little Trickle” side channel down to Angel’s Kiss.  Shane got endered in the boils at Butterfly (and the boils at Iron Ring, and the boils at …..).  Turns out his favorite places to swim on the trip were in swirling or boily eddy lines, not in the huge holes or big water which he took on with no problem!  At Garvin’s, Irene had her cheese-grater run and Jake had to be roped to rescue her paddle wedged underwater amongst the rocks.  Shane enjoyed practicing his recently acquired rescue-skills by belaying Jake out there.

The highlight, though, was Tom and Jake’s run of the Dragon’s Tongue, after a thorough scout from a small island at the crest of the falls.  Though surrounded by nasty holes, the huge, elevated tongue itself was glassy smooth but ended in a big boof down into a tumult of froth and holes and currents that had to be negotiated at the bottom.  Both Tom and Jake cruised it with buttery smoothness, allowing us to Ooooohh and Aaaahh in admiration.

Lunch at the take-out and back on the road north to the Gatineau.  Alexina kept Jake company in his Subaru (they quickly became “designated car buddies”) and we slipped into a routine in the van, switching seats occasionally – reading, chatting, snacking, frequently pit stopping, with Shane usually wired up to music or a movie unless he was driving.  On this particular afternoon, as Tom was getting some shut-eye, somehow we took a wrong turn.  An hour or more later when he woke up, we had already turned around to back-track and had made no forward progress from the moment he had gone to sleep!  It was like being in a time-warp, but try as we might, we couldn’t convince him that he had only fallen asleep for 30 seconds.  A few of us clamored for an ice-cream break and Jake chowed down on a huge order of poutine (a Quebecois dish of french fries smothered in cheese and gravy).  Even with little blips like this, everyone was good-natured (especially Tom!) and the drive was relaxed.  We’ll get there when we get there.  It was sunny and beautiful driving through the Quebec countryside, northwest of Montreal, to our base near the town of Maniwaki.

Got our tents up before dark at the Bonnet Rouge campsite on a high bluff overlooking the forested Gatineau.  Only one other party was in the campground!  Tom had a restaurant picked out in Maniwaki but we were turned away at the door due to the late hour and had to settle for a funky little place across the street where it took a long time for the waitress to warm up to this rag-tag group.  Luckily for us, she was a bit of a character too, and she didn’t even get upset when Tom “caught” her accidentally charging us 50 cents too much per glass of wine.

Thursday, August 20
Yes, we all shamelessly watched with childish anticipation as Isabel, the proprietress of Bonnet Rouge, gave Tom her customary big welcome hug.  A jolly, warm woman with a strong French Canadian accent, she ran shuttle for us and dropped us at the put-in.

The Gatineau felt different – there were no rafts and we saw only three other boaters the entire day!  It seemed like a real north country, wild river and maybe the low gray clouds and drizzle contributed to that, but our spirits were up.  We all felt blessed to have this beautiful remote natural setting all to ourselves.  Lucifer’s was the first rapid which required a thorough scout for the left and middle lines.  The infamous “Lucifer’s Anus,” the right center hole was BIG and a wee bit scary.  After our runs, Jake surfed it – no problem.  Alexina surfed it unintentionally while she tried the middle line, but came out easily, having thrown down some back surfs and spins, then executing her roll as always.  The red boat mafia, the tag line for Anne, Gene, and Shane, ran the middle line, while the others followed Tom on the left line.  April never let the big water stop her the entire trip.  Tom carried back up and led Irene down the river right sneak.  This was by far one of the most fun rapids of the trip for the middle-line kids.  It was like a big burly carnival ride that was alive underneath you, and it was so good, that we only ran the line once that day to “preserve the experience.”

Next we scouted The Crow from a log jam in the middle of the river.  It was the consensus that getting out of our boats and climbing around the logs and river flotsam with water flowing though and flushed-up clouds of what looked like black flies seemed more risky than running the rapid.  The “hole you’d never get out of” on river left didn’t look friendly, but the line through the middle was easy and fun.  Dance of the Lumberjacks came next, and then we stopped to scout at High Tension, actually named for the wires strung overhead but so aptly designated for the emotions it could elicit.  This was a picturesque long rapid with a bit of  ”walled-in canyon” feel, and the very famous “High Tension” surf wave, which unfortunately at the current level was less of a wave and more of a hole for us (a hole with a 10 foot high foampile, that is …)

Irene ran probe on this one, following Tom.  Turned out they didn’t ferry out high enough and while Tom could make it out into the middle of the current in his long boat to line up, within about 10 seconds Irene knew she wasn’t getting out fast enough in her creek boat to avoid the hole.  The powerful current took her right into the meat of it, which seemed to her about two stories high…..needless to say this was followed by a tough swim through chaotic, crashing waves, swirls and boils for quite a distance below.  Trouble was, another rapid lurked around the corner….The Wall….and it was only Tom’s brute strength that got them into an eddy on river right (out of sight of the others) before the prospect of swimming ANOTHER rapid.  The rest of the crew waited patiently, lightly shivering in the drizzling rain and not able to see what was going on while Jake rescued her boat.  All this took a pretty long time and necessitated a hike back through the woods, but it turned out that Irene’s misfortune was simply an admonition to the rest of the group about what NOT to do.  So everyone successfully ran it one at a time, as Gene played traffic cop atop a rock pinnacle, affording him views above and below the rapid.

We lunched on the beach in a crook of the river below the rapid.  Wonderfully, the clouds rolled back and the sun shone down on us just long enough to eat lunch and pack up, then those clouds rolled back in.  During lunch, all of our residual “high tension” was worked out with flying kick and hip toss demos by our tae kwon do master, Shane.  Jake and Tom rushed Shane for all they were worth, who deflected their moves and flung them into hip deep water.  The play was caught “on film” by Alexina.  Boys.

By all accounts, The Wall was fun, where you had to blast through a center hole whose waves crashed in on top of each other.  It was intimidating paddling straight into the middle of that churning mess, but if you hit just the right spot it was “soft” and you magically sliced gently through (hitting it in the wrong spot gave you the upside-down shake-n-bake and some roll-practice).  Anne and Jeannine made it through without flipping at all.  Tom commented it was one of the most fun rapids for him, getting him stoked.  The next day when the river was a tiny bit lower, the report was that the blast through the hole didn’t feel as soft.  Credit those pointy kendo boats, though – they cut through that water like a hot knife through Canadian butter.

Six Chutes was the last rapid of the day where we took the far right line, followed by a flatwater paddle and a last fun wave train to reach our riverside campsite.  While Gene, April and Irene took advantage of some “down time” at the campsite, the rest headed further down river to a surfing wave, some paddling down, and some by parking the van at the take-out and attaining up.  The “official report” was that it wasn’t all that easy to get on the wave and involved a fair amount of work to get back to it, but Anne was a champion in her speedy kendo and got’er-dun.

Dinner was at Tom’s choice, La Rabaska in Maniwaki, which, as it turns out had only been open for four days under new management!  They were quite happy to see us come back again to try them out and they treated us well.  A lightning and thunder storm erupted soon after we returned to our tents, which Anne completely missed as she was off to a deep sleep within minutes.  Gene felt the wrath of the skies, as his clothes bag got completely soaked, and his extra clothing was wet and fermenting for the rest of the trip.

Friday, August 21
Can fried breakfast potatoes really taste that good?  They can, when the man behind the spatula is Chef McEwan!  Jake sliced diced, Tom fried, we ate, all smiled.

The idea was to run our second day on the Gatineau at a faster pace without scouting.  Highlights were Kibler’s running the middle line of Lucifer’s and Shane surfing High Tension but swimming in the boils down below, just narrowly making the eddy behind Jake’s boat above The Wall where Irene and Tom landed the day before.  At Six Chutes, most everyone wanted to try the far river left line, either boofing a little drop or punching a hole where Carrie did some fine side surfing before succumbing to a swim.

Back in the van, it was another 2-3 hour drive to the Rouge River where we found a campsite, mostly populated by RVs, at the confluence of the Rouge and the Ottawa Rivers.  It didn’t QUITE feel like camping on the wrong side of town, but it wasn’t far off, with shirtless sideways-hat-wearing beer drinkers strolling the gravel roads.  Actually, it wasn’t all that bad, but just compared unfavorably to our previous campsites which had been fantastic. Luckily, a nice dinner at Stephanie’s across the Ottawa River in Hawkesbury took up most of the evening, so we didn’t have to contend with the mosquitoes and ants at the campsite, although we still hadn’t gotten to our marshmallows and bottle of wine saved for an evening campfire.

Saturday, August 22
Our breakfast menu was augmented by fresh beets, scarfed up for free by Jake and Alexina at a roadside farmstand and roasted over a morning campfire in foil with olive oil.  A brilliant red color inside, they were pretty tasty and sweet.  Beets for breakfast!

We put on the Rouge and paddled up the river to a rapid whose name we never determined while we waited for Jake and Tom to set shuttle.  A local told us it was “The Rapid that Broke Hips and Legs” and seemed to warn us off.  But it was a beautiful day, the falls stretched from one side of the river to the other, and we ended up playing there for a couple of hours, finding a line on the last drop on river left after Jake and Tom arrived to set safety, that most everyone carried up and did again and again.  It was a great little waterfall boof off of a flake that sent you sailing 6 feet down and rewarded you with that patented BOOF sound.  Anne (who went first) and Gene liked it so much that they only ran it once, to again “preserve the experience.”  Jeannine, on the other hand, was the record-holder with four runs …. we jokingly called her the waterfall hog.  Shane had stayed behind in his playboat at the put-in rather than do an attain in a short boat, thinking we wouldn’t be up there too long. Eventually, Gene went back to get him to join us in the fun.

Shane ran the line easily and then asked Tom if he could do the middle of this part of the falls, about a 6-8 foot drop, where the hole at the bottom was trickier.  Rather than getting up enough speed to properly boof it, he landed without enough momentum to drive out of the boily water below, flipped,  righted, almost worked himself out, then flipped again, eventually coming out of his boat.  Unfortunately the boily hole was much worse than any of us had thought, and he was under for a long time.  It was a swim none of us will ever forget, especially Shane, ending with a rope rescue by Tom and Jake.  A scary experience for everyone.  Regaining our composure took awhile.

The Rouge definitely had a different feel to it than the previous rivers.  It was more walled-in, and a bit rockier ….. landing somewhere between the big-water we had just experienced on the Ottawa and the Gatineau, and the narrower rockier rivers like the Yough and Cheat that we knew from back home.

Elizabeth’s Ledge – the first rapid of the normal run – was a fun drop, but was raft central so we didn’t linger long.  Next was a series of rapids that we eddy-hopped down leading to Washing Machine where we got out to scout.  Tom ran a little science-experiment, deciding to swim the actual Washing Machine hole, to ascertain its true nature, and it was many seconds before he emerged a ways downriver, only commenting that his feet touched a bit along the bottom.  Anne and Tom ran it first and were able to negotiate the big wave/holes in the beginning and drive left to get in the eddy (not easy in itself) and get set up for a line down the left side to avoid the Washing Machine hole.  A few others successfully did the same, a couple of us swam, and April and Irene walked, along with Carrie who was fighting a bug and feeling feverish unfortunately.  Rafts were coming down fast and furiously, rafters were swimming, raft guides were stationed with ropes – it was quite a scene.

After a few lesser rapids – unnamed? – we took out for a carry around the Seven Sisters (a deep gorge with seven waterfalls from which a roar rose up and where the roiling water was only white).  Some would say it was the portage from hell, because we had to climb up and back down a series of wooden steps built into the side of the canyon for bridge construction and then climb down a steep, forested and rocky bank to the river.  Our men (and Alexina) kindly helped with the boats, Shane taking on the two heaviest over a section with a steep ascent.  Everyone pitched in with encouraging words, by carrying extra paddles, and passing boats.  We made it, but not without some trepidation on some of the more precipitous spots.  Kibler powered ahead just like she does on the water, at first dubious she could do it, and Anne worked through her fear of heights, totally relieved when she finally reached the water’s edge.

As we put back onto the water, the skies opened up, and a torrential rain came down.  We had two more fun wave train rapids in the pouring rain, and the high canyon walls, the mist and the limited visibility really made it feel even more remote and adventurous.  But just around the next corner we came upon the confluence with the Ottawa, kind of like an emergence from the wilderness into civilization, our tents nestled amongst the RVs directly on river left.

Dinner at another small roadside restaurant, almost empty, where we seemed to mightily confuse the French-speaking waitress but the kitchen gamely prepared our dinners.  Jeannine claimed it was the best hamburger of the trip.

At a stop for gas at a Canadian filling station chain, Gene literally bought the shirt off the owner’s back for Tom – a MacEwen t-shirt (which he promptly wore the next day) complete with the company motto, “Local People Serving You.”  Maybe not the same spelling, but fun nonetheless.

One of the hardest parts of the day – besides Shane’s swim — was saying good-bye to Jake!  His unfailing cheer, boyish energy, seriousness and competence on the river, and attentiveness to all of us were so wonderful, so much appreciated.  He took off for some solo surfing on the Lachine, while we headed south to Watertown where we arrived at 1:11 am exactly, according to Alexina.  After a few tours of the camp ground, Tom executing skilled reverses with the van and trailer, and figuring out what spots were left by the carnival folk, Gene announced “I’m sleeping here” (pointing to a nice green slope).  Kibler, Jeannine and April slept right where they were in the van while the rest of us hastily erected tents in the dark and turned in.

Sunday, August 23
After morning play at Hole Brothers and a stop at Brew-Ha-Ha, we headed home, stymied only by a construction-induced detour.  Tom provided on-board entertainment in the form of kayaking movies on his laptop which passed the time well.  Yes, Tom, you need to install one of those overhead DVD players!  It was 11 pm when we arrived at our parked cars….tired, river-scented, and rumpled – but as enthusiastic as ever for what we accomplished.

Goodbye, Canada ….. counting the days ‘til next year!

(Photo: Gene at Ocho Topes)

This coming Saturday, January 14th, is the 4th annual Alseseca River race in Tlapocoyan, Veracruz, MX.  Tom is on-site with a group of LAKS paddlers, training to be part of the race.  Anticipating the race, I asked him for the latest news:

“Isaac Levinson,  Eric Deguil, Pablo McCandless,  and Isidro Sobranes seem to be the favorites to place in the race.  Isaac won the Green Race this year in the long boat class, and Eric won the Green Race in short boat class.  Isidro, the highest ranking Mexican paddler, came in second last year.  They are all practicing on the course everyday.  The water level is a little higher then previous years so the times should be shorter.  In the short boat class,  it’s anyone’s guess who will finish in the top three.  There is a lot of excitement at Aventurec about the coming race.”

I’ll keep you posted with news and times.  Here is a link to the Alseseca Race website.

Trading off at the wheel every 3-4 hrs,  and sleeping on a very comfortable bed in the back, we reach the border at Brownsville in 36 hrs.  We are used to the swaying of the vehicle and the occasional bump from the joints in the road as the hours go by, and we even look forward to our turn to drive.    We get the visa papers squared away with Mexican customs and the vehicle registered for temporary importation.  Because of all the reports of violence in Mexico, once in Mexico we are careful to drive only during the day.   We have about 9 hours from the border to Valles, San Luis Potosi, where the first, best paddling is located, and where we are to meet a group of paddlers who are flying in and taking a bus.   The paddling begins the next day in this region of our Waterfall Trips.

Ale below Cascada Luminosa

Rivers of Waterfalls:  There are many waterfalls and slides here, about 5 – 15 ft. high, called Cascadas de Micos, and another pretty high one (24 ft.) called Luminosa.   Cascadas de Micos, I suppose is so named because there once were Monkeys in the area and Micos means monkeys.   We start collecting people at the bus station – Sandrine and Bob.  Carlos and his wife Ale meet us at the ecological resort near the river.

We decide to go to Ojo Frio (cold spring) for the first day.  It’s about a five mile river with about 30 – 40 non stop travertine drops.   We are finally on the water, and the sun is hot.   We are happy to have plenty of water in the rivers, even though we are about three weeks behind the time I usually arrive in Valles.

Oriel near river at Valles resort

We find out that Bob is an amateur ornithologist, a birder, when he starts calling out the names of the birds he sees, and taking photographs aiming toward the trees where we are staying. There are many small song birds which have emigrated ahead of us and they create a racket of morning and evening chatter.    All the water is a pretty aqua color, and it is very refreshing when we plunge into it for a swim.

On about the fifth day a few of us decide to take on a harder river – the Rio Verde, a remote river in a canyon full of water falls.   Jose Luis and Sarah will drive the long shuttle.  Bob, Sandrine, and I will take on the river.  The drive to the put-in is a long way for us, so that by the time we put on, we have only four hours of daylight left.  It is sometimes said,  “you are only young and foolish once, so take advantage of it while you can.”  Fully aware that we might be letting ourselves in for a all-nighter on the river,  we decide to go for it.  Our hearts are saying “let’s paddle!”

Bob below 100' Cascada Lluviosa on the Verde photo taken by Sandrine

There are two high waterfalls that we have to rappel around, or lower the boats past and hike around, and many smaller drops and rapids.  It is two PM.  On the first waterfall, I am the last to rappel down, and because I don’t want to leave behind a carabiner, I decide to throw down the rappel rope and jump the 60′ over the cliff and into where the water lands.   In jumping, I am so intent on watching the water coming up at me, in order to time my entry, that when I hit the water my head is tilted forward somewhat and the impact against my face breaks my glasses into two pieces.  Now McGyver – Sandrine steps in with some Gorilla tape and makes a hasty patch of my glasses.  We get started again, all of us thinking about what it will feel like to spend the night on the river in the cold with no food and no sleeping bag.  We run several more waterfalls, one is a 15 footer just following a sloping  rapid and a sharp blind turn.  It has only a small eddy between the drops.   I go first, only to see from the small eddy at the turn a small tree across the boulders just above the falls. I have to hop out quickly on a boulder and bring my boat after me before I can get to the tree.   I have my big rope in my lap which, as I jump out, I try to stuff back into my boat.  But I am in an awkward position, and my climbing rope rolls into the water.   I toss my paddle up onto the boulder and it slides over to the other side of the rock and down back into the water.  Luckily the paddle floats…. but not the rope doesn’t, and it quickly disappears.   Still I am successful getting the tree out of the way, and Sandrine and Bob who have been waiting are now clear to run the drop, which they execute perfectly. For myself,  I am not enthusiastic about trying to run a 15′ falls without a paddle, so I throw my boat down into the pool below and climb around.  There are two more fun little falls just below, and we all enjoy those once my boat and paddle have been gathered.

Still we are wondering if we are to get out of the canyon before sunset.  We scout quickly every significant drop.  One is around a large bolder and over some medium boulders.  The landing at the bottom is pinched by a barely covered rock intruding into the water flow.  You must not let your bow bounce back to the Right or you will piton this rock.   Well, Sandrine is not able to prevent that Right hand bounce and pitons hard as her bow digs under the water.  She is stuck.  We rush to help her out, and just as I start down to loosen her bow, she shakes herself loose and is flushed free.

We have one more rapid to deal with.  I know it well, it is a very tricky boof into an aerated pool.  I have done it many times, not always successfully.  The shadows are getting long.  But I take it on while the others watch.  Well, I just don’t have that golden touch today, and I back ender at the bottom and get returned into the curtain.  The travertine rock takes a toll on my arm before I finally can roll up and paddle out.  The others need no discussion, and they carry immediately.  We are soon out of the canyon as the shadows disappear and all turns to gray.  We paddle the last half mile fast, and we still can see when we get out to hike across the field and up to the road.  But there is no one there.  We hike up further looking for a big white van.   After a few more turns and anxious steps, suddenly we hear the sound of an engine and see the headlights appear out of the grey.  We lucked out once again, and soon we are changed into warm clothes and set for the drive out.  Fortunately there is a great little truck stop on the main highway which feeds us to the max with eggs, tortillas, strip steak and coffee.   Sarah reaches for the hottest salsa they have and smothers everything on her plate with it.   I, the baby in the group, won’t let any of that lethal green or red stuff that Mexicans gorge themselves with touch my plate.   We all agree it was a great way to spend the day in the outdoors.

The church above center square in Cholula photo by Bob Book

Oaxaca Overnight Trip:  For this trip we drive to Puebla and a smaller town nearby called Cholula, where we pick up Fern and Pablo, the last ones to arrive.   Sarah goes to Tlapacoyan to teach a private week with a client, Jane.  The rest of us spend the night in Cholula and then drive South to Tehuacan where we have a late breakfast in the town square and then to Santiago Quiotepec.  It is a very small pueblo with narrow dirt streets and maybe a population of 100.  But the best is that the government has given them funds to build a tourist welcome center with cabins in the middle of the town.   The beds are comfortable, we have a variety of rooms, and a local family cooks for us in in their home in the evening.  We pack our boats with food and gear for the morning and then we feast on the Mexican staples of refried beens, rice, tortillas, spicy salsa, grilled chicken.

The next day is day-one on the river.  There are seven of us, Memo, Carlos, Sandrine, Fern, Pablo, Bob and me, Tom.  Jose Luis is our driver.  We have 3 days to do 42k.  That should not be hard,  about 8.5 mi. per day.  There was a wind storm in the evening before, but it is sunny, warm and calm when we start.  Beautiful ruddy cliffs are overhead, with a meandering river and just little rapids to play in.  We try to get the feel of maneuvering a loaded boat.  About Noon the first real rapid begins.  We scout and eddy hop down.

Fern on the first day of Santo Domingo

The river has a lot of big boulders scatted in its bed.  They get in the way and make it hard to see down the rapids.  We either have to get out and scout or eddy hop down the rapid reading the water and choosing our lines as we go.  The eddies are large, but sometimes the rapids have tricky drops that demand a quick reaction to brace and balance.  Kind of like paddling a bigger volume Upper Yough but not quite as tight.   Because all but me have not seen the river, they have to read and run it or scout.  I have seen the river many times, but others may miss an eddy that they want to see from, are caught off balance by a sideways hydraulic, or they get spun around backwards, and can’t avoid flipping.  It takes only a couple of knocks on the helmet or shoulder to have a swimmer.  Fortunately, most rapids have a pool not far below.  Ones with any real consequences, we will walk.  Our speed down stream is slowed with the difficulty of making rescues.  This was Carlos’ first time on the water in a year.  He had forgotten how to roll.  We stop for about an hour to give him a little private rolling lesson.  In a little while he is getting himself up without help or too much struggle.   Fern is used to paddling class IV+ water  on the Upper Yough, but the weight of the boat and the long days grind her down day by day until by the end she is exhausted.  To make our goals we have to pass one big rapid and camp just below.  But people are getting tired late in the afternoon, so we claim a great, but early camp site short of our goal.

The second day is more of the same,  beautiful clear skies, large sunlit boulders clogging the passage ways, and a lot of drops that require precision.  We take our time.  Carlos has forgotten again how to roll, and so we stop to review what we had worked on before, until he gets it back.  During Lunch we bake ourselves on the rocks in the sun.  Some prefer shade, others like getting scorched by the sun.

By 4 PM it is clear that we will not make our second day’s goal.  I warned Jose Luis that it is always a possibility that we would take an extra day – as we had to do one other time.  Every one has a little extra food stashed away for this possibility.  We are happy to spend the time on the river.  Why rush away from such a magnificent place?  So we decide to split the second day and make it into two days arriving the evening of the third day at the usual final camp spot.  At the take out in the town, there is a family who makes a large lunch for us when we arrive.  They will have food and cold beer ready for us whether we make it one day or the next.

By the final day, Fern is exhausted from wielding her heavy boat.  Fortunately, Pablo, being a former Olympic athelete is not.  He is quite happy to run the rapids one or more times to bring boats to the bottom.

Fern checking the line down to Bob and Tom

Pablo happy to be stuffing his face after the Santo Domingo

The final day goes fairly smoothly.  Only one rapid takes a little bite out of Sandrine’s ego, as she is held in a boiling, aerated  spot below a drop and can’t get her roll.  But we still make good time that day.  The last miles are a long flattish stretch to the town of Santo Domingo, where a great hot meal is waiting.  Beers are handed around and photos reviewed.  And we are on the road again, driving to our next destination by 5 PM.

Despite the many warnings in newspaper articles we read in the States about the dangers of Mexico, life continues unfazed, and people we meet do not seem in any way to be traumatized by the persistent drug wars.  We come to realize that the drug wars are localized phenomenon, and are not spread to most of the country, (just as DC used to be called the Murder Capitol of the Country in the 90′s, but people living next door in Maryland never felt the effects).

The Alseseca Race Week:  On Saturday, Jan. 15, the Third annual Alseseca race was held.  And what an interesting turn out for the race!  There were three French paddlers from the Pyrenees, one Basque,  local Mexicans from various rafting companies,  French Canadians,  British,  USA,  one South African, and one Irish.  There were a total of 25 entries in the two races, the short and the long.   You can see the official results from this page.

One of the high slides on the Alseseca

What happened on the river the day before the race was pretty crazy, and could have been crazier except that the Safety Volunteers were also there setting up to make rescues.  Almost all the paddlers were there practicing their lines…. and making their mistakes.  In one rapid called Sticky Hole there were several who got stuck.  But the safety people were there to pull them out.   The S-Turn is the hardest rapid, and has to be classed as V.   In our group alone,  three people swam, and then also got stuck in a hole at the bottom.  It took some work from Safety on the cliff above to pull them all in, boats and paddlers.  There were some bruises and banged heads but nothing serious.  In another hole at the bottom of a 6 foot ledge drop, called Sofie’s Hole more paddlers had to be fished out.

Then came the last rapid of the race, Maquina de Escribir (Typewriter).  I wanted to see if I could land it when I was really tired, so after paddling hard through 10 min. of easy water, I went right into it – full speed ahead.  Safety was just arriving, but not yet ready.  At the lip of the drop, I got pointed a little off, and hit the boil at the bottom in a way that sent me back into the curtain.  After a few fruitless attempts to roll, I was soon out of the boat getting and worked under the curtain.  Finally I made it out.   It felt like a bad omen for me for the next day, so I had to run the slide again a couple of times more just to reassure myself that I could handle it.    So went the warm-up day of almost universal wreckage.

The day of the race was bright and sunny.   Everyone registered at 10 AM, and we had our Participants Meeting to go over the rules of the race.  In some regards we kept the rules soft.  Instead of being disqualified if they received assistance when they got in trouble during the race, they were permitted to continue after being rescued and still have whatever time they had accumulated count.  It meant that if you were stuck in a hole and a rescue staff jumped into the water to pull you up and out,  you were still permitted to finish.   You had only to cross the finish line in your boat.  So, if you swam in the last drop you could get back into a boat full of water and paddle across the finish line.  Here are a few videos of the race.

Potrillo runs the Triple Drop from tommcewan on Vimeo.

Heather on the last drop of the Alseseca Race from tommcewan on Vimeo.

Rafa paddles S-Turn in the Alseseca Race from tommcewan on Vimeo.

Heather gets help from Safety on the final drop Alseseca

So here are stats for rescues on race day:  seven persons rescued in “Sticky Hole,”  five rescued in the “S-Turn,” 6 rescued in the “Sofie’s hole,” and three rescued in “Typewriter.”     Needless to say, the race is difficult (about 15 minutes long)  and requiring a lot of concentration so as not to make a mistake.

The neighboring townships sent three ambulances to be on site, and every contestant had to have their blood pressure checked before the race.  (I did not hear of anyone disqualified for high blood pressure).   The race began on time and contestants were started at two minutes intervals.  This long interval made it easier for safety to clear the course if there were problems.  The race started in a small eddy just above a 15′ high double drop.  One boater got spun around in S-Turn and had his paddle snatched from his hands, wedged between the two narrow walls.

The secret of this race, at least for me, was not to get tired too soon and loose precision in my paddling.  If I paddle hard in the pools between drops, I will soon make a mistake from fatigue and lose some serious amount of time – maybe have to be rescued.  You must land every drop large or small drop smoothly and carefully.  Even to the last drop of the river, called Typewriter, you must have energy enough to make the right kind of boof and land pointed in the right way.    A couple boaters made it to the last drop and swam 10m from the finish.  But they still got their time.

Then there was an awards ceremony at the Municipal Building on the central square in the center of town in Tlapacoyan and a big dinner at Aventurec afterward.  The winner of the long race received a Remix 59 kayak donated by Liquid Adventures.

They walked briskly towards the international arrivals gate and soon found their targets standing around waiting to be kidnapped. And they did exactly that. But first they straightened up their backs, put on their sunglasses, and proceeded to listen to their favorite pump up song,  “Eye of the Tiger”. Then they mustered up their best cronie voices and, in unison, said to Pablo and Dr. Peter, “You guys. vamanos.”So with pablo and Dr. Peter in tow, the two cronies returned to Tom the tumultuous just as the sun slipped below the horizon.”Excellent work” Tom congratulated his cronies. “Dan, you get to sleep in a bed tonight.”  And a smart grin spread across Dan’s face as his eyes began to droop a little and a dream bubble could be seen to form above his head. And thus they proceeded to sleep in Tom’s top secret headquarters in room 118 and 119 in Hotel Santa Rosa in Plaza San Pedro in the town of Cholula-but don’t tell anybody.

The crowing of roosters woke them in the early morning, or rather, in the middle of the night. As they walked out to Tom’s shenana-van with dual rear wheels and a beefy roof rack, a little moment Tom likes to call a “Señor moment” suddenly came over him. He could no longer remember why he had kidnapped Dr. P and Pablo.
“Hey cronies why did we snatch these guys from the airport?” Tom asked.
“No idea boss.” said Dan and Señor Jose Loise in their best cronie voices.
“Ok, well as long as they’re here we might as well show them a good time and take them kayaking. You guys want to do that?” Tom asked the previously kidnapped Dr. Peter Pan and Pablo. And the two heads could be seen to bob in unison as a twinkle came to their eyes and a bubble filled with rapids and river lunches began to form above their heads.

It was a couple of hours drive to the put-in of the first river, Santiago Quiotopec, also known as the “incredibly windy city in the desert that with blow sand into your ears”. On arriving, Tom the Tumultuous set out to make peace with the local town leaders in the least tumultuous way possible. Though there was much yelling, it was only because everyone’s ears were filled with sand, and the peace talks really went quite smoothly. The next several hours were filled with yelps, punches, and a few tears as the crew desperately tried to fit all their gear into their kayaks for a 3 day expedition down the rio Santo Domingo, or as the locals call it, the Rio Grande. Bitterly worn and nearly defeated, the crew ate dinner at dear old Olga’s house before retiring for the night.

The roosters woke them up, again, at some ridiculous hour in the morning/night. Pablo and Dr. P, with their new-found freedom, demanded that they receive a caffeine fix on the way to the river. An hour later, the crew set off down the river with a last wave goodbye to Señor Jose Loise. As they snaked their way through the desert, beautiful vistas, cliffs and caves came and went in frequent procession.

Then, they heard some rumblin cuz the water was a tumblin.
“Hold on!” exclaimed Pablo, “I didn’t drink nearly enough coffee for this kind of excitement!” But it was no use. Tom’s ears were stuffed with sand and already a sly grin had formed on his face. He led the crew down several rapids and when he thought they had had enough, it was time to set up camp. It was a cozy camp with a ferocious fire and alota alliteration along all the banks. And it wasn’t long before they crawled into their sleeping bags, except for Tom who took a nap leaned against a rock by the fire, and fell asleep.

There were no roosters that morning, and clearly, that was cause for celebration. The band was called in, pinatas were hung up, and Señoritas came from far and wide to dance with the smelly, unshaven, though well rested, crew of kayakers. Eventually the festivities subsided and it was time to paddle. That day was filled with rapids like the boats were filled with gear- to the brim. It was a super fun day as the crew descended the river from the crusty desert to the ever increasingly jungly jungle. Even their ears began to empty of sand and the day passed with many smiles (and one swim!).

The usual campsite was severely overgrown and looked like something out of Jumanji. Where once there was nothing but sand, now there grew a thick forest of bamboos, grasses, and vines. Stupid nature, that was an incredible campsite before you came along.  Dan the Delirious learned an important lesson that night. If you’re afraid of snakes, scorpions, spiders and other words that begin with ‘S’, then unless you want to have a fitful, paranoid sleep, SLEEP IN YOUR TENT. Equally as important: Don’t sleep where you spilled food because ANTS WILL EAT YOU. Both good life lessons. Socrates would certainly concur.

The last day had some great rapids, followed by some great flat water.  Tom became particularly tumultuous that day so, to everyone’s horror, he made Dan lead the group down parts of the river. The take-out was at the town of Santo Domingo where Tom is buddy buddy with one of the families there and arranged for them to feed five hungry kayakers. They were also so kind as to entertain the group with a Christian music video starring “The Texan girl from Guatemala”, who changed her outfit in every scene and was probably one of the worst singers you will ever hear. That wonderful meal and spectacular singing performance was followed by a long drive to Valle Nacional, home of the Rio Valle Nacional. And there they enjoyed their first night in real beds.

The next morning they enjoyed their first breakfast that was not oatmeal before driving up to the put-in. The river began with some scary boofs. So scary that Pablo did not even bother to scout and just charged ahead. Luckily, charging far enough ahead to avoid the sticky hole. Memolito was not so lucky. After a good working he came out of his boat and went for a short swim down the next rapid. A second scary boof followed the first one. It was not as difficult as the first but definitely higher up on the scariness scale. Everyone ran this drop cleanly and the crew proceeded down the rest of the river without incident. As they floated towards the take-out, passing through a small town, the banks of the river began to be lined with more and more half-naked girls. Of course, Dan the Delirious thought they had come to see his sexy kayaking moves, while Tom the Tumultuous thought they had come to see him, and the rest of the crew had similar ideas. Nobody seemed to notice they were actually just washing clothes.

That night was new years eve and Tom treated everyone to a dinner of a caliber never before seen on a Tom trip. Rivershrimp soup was followed by a fish fillet and a cheese cake topped it all off. The crew went to bed well before midnight but everyone else in the town that night was up playing disco music and burning tires into the wee hours of the morning.

The next day was the last day of the trip, so obviously it was cold and raining. Everyone had been waiting for a chance to put on cold, wet gear and finally it seemed the river gods had granted their wish. There was much manly grunting, and one high pitched yelp (Tom), as the gear flew on at terrific speed. Today was Rio valle Nacional, round two. This time both Pablo and Memolito decided to swim at the rapid later named “Memo’s mortification” because, I guess, they weren’t cold enough. They cruised down the rest of the river, eager to reach the take-out town again. But to their complete and utter and vastly devastating disappointment there was not even one half-naked girl in sight. Perhaps they weren’t as sexy as they had thought.
The trip ended with a comfy night in the Hotel Colonial for Pablo and Dr. Peter Pan, a snore-filled night in the van for Dan, Jose Loise, and Tom, and a bum-like night on the floor of the bus station for Memolito. But it was exactly what each person wanted.

If you would like to see all the photos from the Mexico Advanced Trip follow this link.  The videos can be seen by double clicking on the photo.

I include below some candid impressions of my week in Mexico.  Please forgive my poor writing style.

I have been back for a week, but have had not time on email at all.  Mexico was wonderful, I will send out pictures later.  We had the coldest rainiest week in 20 years.  We even had a small ice storm, the day of the Alseseca race.  _Tom has some great friends down there.  They call him “el viejito”, the old man.  He is admired, and seen as a great teacher.

This was not my first time in Mexico, but was the first time paddling with Tom, in the state of Veracruz.  It was a “magical” experience.  I only met good to great Mexicans.  We had one minor rip-off from a taxi driver from Puebla to Cholula the first night, where he charged $20 instead of the customary $10, but it was near midnight, and we were tired.  We had one scary stop by the “federales” in the middle of nowhere near Perote the last night on the way to the Airport.  Tom was masterful, impersonating a gentle but clueless gringo, and we were set free without any damage to property.

My experience with the Aventurec folks was excellent.  The owners, Sofy, and Antonio, their kids, dogs, and all the people that work at Aventurec provided a welcoming and warm environment.  My only complaint is that they forgot to turn the heat on, BURRR!!!  We had great food, hot showers, warm wool blankets, and a steady diet of cold rain and fog.  I did paddle 4 out of 6 days.  I was beat up for the practice run the day before the Alsaseca race and passed on the race.  I did have a great time running parts of the Alseseca during of three days of paddling.  My favorite run was the Filobobos with the Class II/III “El Encanto” part, and a Class III+ part near Zapotitlan.  I did not bring all my winter paddling gear, and this was a big mistake.  I also discovered the need for elbow pads, since my right elbow is still tender.  I did learn a lot about creeking from Tom, in my first creeking trip ever.  I found out that creeking is hard on the body, as well as on the mind, when you have this horizon lines and split seconds to make your strokes and boofs.  Overall it was a very positive paddling experience, and I was very lucky to escape with minor bruises and cuts.  I did flip at the top of one hairy three-part drop of which I miraculously escaped without anything broken.  Thank God for the extra rain and the extra water padding the rocks.  The day of the race no one was hurt, though the previous days, we had several broken paddles and boats, as well as many swims (this includes the extended group of Mexican paddlers).

I really enjoyed the lush tropical fields of Veracruz.  It appears to be Mexico’s most productive agricultural state.  I saw tons of bananas, plantains, coffee, oranges (and all citrus fruits), guava, and a lot of other tropical fruits grown in large quantities, and even rotting on the ground.  The people of Veracruz(and other parts of Mexico) appear to be very generous and warm.  We had several incidents that bear this out.  Like the incident with the water pipe hanging down above the Alseseca River near the Truchas restaurant, and the backing of the truck by Jose Luis to get over the bridge in Zapotitlan.

I also enjoyed watching many tropical birds with my bare eyes.  I am still trying to identify them from memory, like the huge green/blue bird with an iridescent tail that resembled the fabled Quetzal.  I digress when I noticed many migrant bird species that go between Mexico and the US without any need for visas.

I did practice my Spanish a lot in this trip and made many Mexican friends.  I had a great time with Tom, Dan Mehrez, Paul Harrison, Sandrine Deglin, Gene H., and Irene Owsley.  They were fun and wonderful trip companions.  We had a memorable guajolote (turkey) calling contest that warmed us up on the way to paddling the frigid Alsaseca.  I learned many “nahualt” words from our driver/guide Jose Luis.  The “nahualt” language was originally spoken by the Aztecs of central Mexico, and the Totonacas of Veracruz.  It is still kept alive through many dialects presently spoken by Mexican Indians and Mestizos (mixed people).  It is even apparently taught in school. Overall this was a great cultural experience as well as great paddling in spectacular and challenging rivers.

Congratulations to Tom, Paul and Sandrine for completing the race.  Tom won the long race and Sandrine won the short race.  Sandrine was the only female, and francophone participant in the race.  Irene, you took some memorable pictures.  Gene, you could have been a winner too!

Thanks, Carlos

P.S.  I apologize for not mentioning the two mornings of Zumba.  Good way to warm up the old bones, but I was almost ready for a nap afterwards.

We made Watertown, NY, by about 5 pm to work out the road kinks at Hole Brothers, a park-and-play spot on the Black River. With a late afternoon glow on the water, a few locals graciously accepted ten boats from out of nowhere into the queue. In true Tom fashion, he made a game of it and began timing everyone’s stay on the wave, holding out a beer as the grand prize. Shane won with a 24-second surf, beating out Carrie in close second at 20 seconds and Alexina a distant third with only 12 seconds (but a successful spin).

After changing in the parking lot by Hole Brothers, we retired to the campsite to set up tents, which encouraged an immediate “fessing up” of those who snore and those who don’t – the snorers creeping off to a far corner of the campsite. Late dinner in Watertown at an Italian restaurant with about half of the world’s supply of fake plastic grapes hanging from the ceiling and quite vividly painted murals of Italian countryside on one side and an electronic keno board on the opposite wall (we got tips from the waitress on how to play, but we had all conveniently left our “gambling cash” at home). Tom promptly disappeared for the whole meal to go shopping, returning for the last five minutes to wolf down his salad before we paid the check.

Monday, August 17

Fresh melon slices and grilled chorizo for breakfast (along with the usual juice, bagels, and oatmeal, of course). The boys got peer-pressured into finishing off the copious amounts of chorizo – tough duty, but they managed. Tom kept the sleepy masses from revolting with a (not so) quick stop at Watertown’s best drive-though coffee joint – Brew-Ha-Ha – and everyone got sufficiently caffeinated. Shane claimed his “longest surf” prize in the form of a milkshake. Made the border crossing in the vicinity of the Thousand Islands with no incident, no undue questioning of Tom, this time, and his youthful exploits. Headed north through lovely rural farmland to Owl Rafting, an outfitter on the Ottawa River with great facilities and hand’s down the most scenic campsite of the trip. We pitched our tents on a wide expanse of manicured lawn dotted with picnic tables, facing the broad, calm Ottawa River. Behind us lay farmland and a newly mown, golden hayfield (complete with loud rumbling farm equipment running well into the night!). Not even Shane’s complaints about how far the campsite was from the parking lot (including a Facebook posting) could dampen our intrepid spirits! A stunning sunset the first evening with some humidity in the air, a crisper evening the next night with the sky awash in stars and the milky way. Spectacular.

We met up with Jake Weiss, our second instructor (and designated rescuer par-excellence) who had driven up separately from Pennsylvania, and quickly brought him into the fold. He immediately became an integral part of our extended paddling family.

By about 3 pm, we put on the river to do just the first rapid, McCoy’s. Was there a little anticipation in the air? Tom had us doing stroke drills and onside-offside rolls like mad as we approached the forested island where we could leave our boats to scout. As soon as we got to the rocky outcrop to view the rapid, the sky let loose with a pelting rain and gusts of wind which blew the rain sideways and lifted the foam off the top of Sattler’s and Phil’s Holes. The heavy rain set the perfect dramatic tone, as we stared wide-eyed at the gaping maws of two of the biggest holes most of us had ever seen … and then shuddered when told of the line squeezed in between the two! We looked at the rapid from the top…..from the bottom…..from the middle….with plenty of pointing and discussion and the beginning, for us, of a new feature-based vocabulary: “Threading the Needle” was only the first of many river identifications and lines that would be seared in our dreams each night.

Jake executed the move flawlessly for us, but Gene was our probe, and he promptly got EATEN. The idea was to line up, cut across the right corner of Sattler’s Hole, and paddle hard towards river left (thereby “threading the needle”) in order to avoid the left edge of Phil’s Hole just below. Well, we saw just how key it was to hit enough of the corner of the upper hole so as not to be swept into Phil’s, because that’s exactly where the force of the current took Gene. He swam for the first and ONLY time on the trip (none of the subsequent rapids ever seemed to trouble him!). By the end of the afternoon, though, most people did the rapid two or three times. It’s situated on a right dogleg in the river so that there are two surfing areas at the bottom, Babyface and Corner Hole. You can carry up and do the whole thing again and again and then paddle some flat water back to your car! It’s super-convenient for all the Ottawa river-rat play boaters, of which there are many – kind of like a super-sized version of paddling out to MD & VA chutes.

There’s another line at McCoy’s without trying to “thread the needle” – you drive straight through the center of Phil’s Hole lining up with a crowning wave above and then take an almost imperceptible small opening in the middle of the hole. Tom led Anne down into this “hero-line” but didn’t quite punch through, and as Anne dropped into the hole she found Tom in mid-surf looking back at her. Now anyone who knows Tom knows he’s a gentleman’s gentleman, so it was no surprise that when he slid over to give Anne the gentler side of the hole, while he got heavily cartwheeled and chomped by Mr. Phil. Anne flipped, flushed and rolled, while Tom “fought the good fight” …. he gave Phil a few good uppercuts, but then his helmet was ripped off by the force (a faulty strap) and afraid of loosing his glasses, he put his hand on his head with one hand and pulled his skirt with the other. We were just happy to see him again, regardless. His helmet was gone, a relic from his Tibet trip, but we rescued the foam liner. When your fearless leader swims the first rapid of the first day, is that a bad omen?

A lesser event of the afternoon was a successful combat roll by Irene after being pulled into the edge of Phil’s – not noteworthy at the time but it would become so later in the week after seeing her roll disappear in the big water. April never quite figured out the line until the next day, shooting through Phil’s two of her three attempts of the rapid and losing everything in her PFD (including camera and sunscreen). But she made her roll every time!

Steak dinner and a complimentary beer (“Steam Whistle” beer – brewed with love from Canada’s crystal clear – if somewhat bug-infested – springwater) at a picnic table alongside the river at Owl Rafting with rhubarb pie a la mode for dessert. Golden light on the water, towering cumulous clouds in the distant sky. A perfect day. (read the whole rest of trip report)

We flew into Mexico City on Christmas Day and took a bus out to Aventurec in Tlapacoyan. The next day we paddled the Tablazo section of the Rio Alceseca which at first looked like a drainage ditch to me, but it turned out to be the best first day of any trip. This section was pool drop in nature with numerous drops around 20 feet and two that were larger.  Nathan and Tom ran one of the drops that was in the movie Hotel Charlie.

The next day we decided to give up the overnight trip on the Santo Domingo and instead do other creeks that were closer. At Aventurec we met a group of paddlers from Oregon. Four of them decided to tag along with us on the Super Alto Filo-Bobos . To spice things up a bit we did a section above and a section below the main part which ended up being about 20 miles. It was a beautiful river that wound itself through small canyons with amazing little waterfalls that fed the river.

By the end of that I had gotten sick which was expected. The third day was spent driving to our next destination which was near the ocean. Nathan and I spent the afternoon relaxing at the beach and recovering from the previous day.

For our next adventure Tom decided to take us to el Rio de Oro. To get there we had to drive up the mountain through cow farms, and when we stopped to get changed,  the cows thought that the boats must have been food or something because they all congregated around us and started licking the boats!  To lead us across the fields to the put-in we had a local guide.  The put-in was very foreboding because it was raining, there weren’t any real eddies, you could not see far downstream for the mist, and there was a large waterfall not to far downstream that we had to look out for.   There were many fun rapids and two 30 footers in a row.   One of the coolest things about this little river was that the take out was the ocean! We got to paddle straight into the ocean and surf the waves so we basically went from
the headwaters to the end.

For our last river we did a little more driving and ended up in Valle National, a small town near amazing mountains. To put-in we asked

permission from a small indigenous town in the mountains and even got to use their road to get closer to the put-in. We then had to drag our boats the rest of the way down the mountain for about an hour and a half. By this time it was already 2:00, and we had a ways to go.  So, we “wildwatered” it in order to make it out before dark. There were many many rapids with a lot of wood and sieves to watch out for. All in all it was another great river, but would have probably enjoyed it more if we had not been in such a rush. Around 5:30ish both Nathan and I had already been mentally prepared to spend the night on the river. In the end we paddled about 15 miles in four hours. But we made it.

Another great Mexico trip as expected. Perfect weather, hard rapids, and great people are only a few of the things that make Mexico the best place to paddle, especially when you go to school in Ohio.

We flew into Mexico City on Christmas Day and took a bus out to Aventurec in Tlapacoyan. The next day we paddled the Tablazo section of the Rio Alceseca which at first looked like a drainage ditch to me, but it turned out to be the best first day of any trip. This section was pool drop in nature with numerous drops around 20 feet and two that were larger.  Nathan and Tom ran one of the drops that was in the movie Hotel Charlie.

The next day we decided to give up the overnight trip on the Santo Domingo and instead do other creeks that were closer. At Aventurec we met a group of paddlers from Oregon. Four of them decided to tag along with us on the Super Alto Filo-Bobos . To spice things up a bit we did a section above and a section below the main part which ended up being about 20 miles. It was a beautiful river that wound itself through small canyons with amazing little waterfalls that fed the river.

By the end of that I had gotten sick which was expected. The third day was spent driving to our next destination which was near the ocean. Nathan and I spent the afternoon relaxing at the beach and recovering from the previous day.

For our next adventure Tom decided to take us to el Rio de Oro. To get there we had to drive up the mountain through cow farms, and when we stopped to get changed,  the cows thought that the boats must have been food or something because they all congregated around us and started licking the boats!  To lead us across the fields to the put-in we had a local guide.  The put-in was very foreboding because it was raining, there weren’t any real eddies, you could not see far downstream for the mist, and there was a large waterfall not to far downstream that we had to look out for.   There were many fun rapids and two 30 footers in a row.   One of the coolest things about this little river was that the take out was the ocean! We got to paddle straight into the ocean and surf the waves so we basically went from the headwaters to the end.

For our last river we did a little more driving and ended up in Valle National, a small town near amazing mountains. To put-in we asked permission from a small indigenous town in the mountains and even got to use their road to get closer to the put-in. We then had to drag our boats the rest of the way down the mountain for about an hour and a half. By this time it was already 2:00, and we had a ways to go.  So, we “wildwatered” it in order to make it out before dark. There were many many rapids with a lot of wood and sieves to watch out for. All in all it was another great river, but would have probably enjoyed it more if we had not been in such a rush. Around 5:30ish both Nathan and I had already been mentally prepared to spend the night on the river. In the end we paddled about 15 miles in four hours. But we made it.

Another great Mexico trip as expected. Perfect weather, hard rapids, and great people are only a few of the things that make Mexico the best place to paddle, especially when you go to school in Ohio.
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