I made it to the ocean!!!

I arrive at the Pacific ocean. 2 months, and 880 miles from the start of my journey in Revelstoke, BC.
The final leg of my trip turned out to be everything I had hoped for, and more. I went fast, the weather and wind cooperated, and the wildlife incredible. Arriving at the ocean brought me a sense of accomplishment I have experienced only a few times in my life. It was an amazing journey, that I'm glad I undertook but one that I'm also glad is over for now.

Starting my final leg at Jared Jackman's house at 9:30 am, I wasn't even on the water when I realized I had forgotten my skirt. I decided to push on without it, realizing it may cripple my ability to travel in poor conditions. The theory was tested right away as some of the biggest waves of the trip rolled up the river formed by a 10 mph headwind meeting the current pumping downstream. It was quite intense as a big wave could fill the cockpit and make for a very interesting paddle to shore. luckily all went well and before I knew it I was paddling under the I 5 bridge in Portland 30 miles from the start of my day. It was only 3:45 and there was plenty of daylight ahead of me. Just before dark I passed the Willamette river as a storm threatened, so i took off
the river and had my camp set up just in time before the rain started. I slept soundly knowing I had paddled over 50 miles in 10 hours, and was glad to be warm and dry as I watched the rain poor down. it was a blessing since it filled all my pots with fresh water which would end up coming down to the wire.

The rain was still falling when I got under way in the morning. I couldn't complain since the river was calm and the rain kept me cool while I paddled. I was surprised that the current kept up at full steam and I was making
great time again. Paddling right in the shipping channel, I kept my eyes open for boats but it was the fastest line and I wanted to maximise on the good weather. By noon the rain had cleared, and I had already made it over 25 miles to the town of Raineer. The factories and shipping docks gave way to forests and islands and I enjoyed up close and personal osprey, duck and eagle sightings. The river makes a dramatic bend to the west after following the mountains north since Portland. Driftwood filled the calm water and I knew I had reached the tidal water. There was still a little current and I enjoyed its last little bit of help while the sunlight streamed through the clouds onto the mountains in the distance. I saw a sea lion off in the distance wondering if i would get a closer look. my wish was answered a moment later when I heard a loud blast of air leaving the lungs of a large specimen only 15 yards off my stern. It officially scared the crap out of me, I know nothing of sea lion behavior and didn't wait around to find out if it was being curious or Territorial. I let out the bellow of a man fearing for his life, slapped the water with my paddle and turned on the afterburners. He didn't look like he could run that fast so I sprinting towards shore. I could swear it was following me at first, and I was sure it could swim faster than I could paddle. I made it halfway to shore when I looked behind me and saw it had given up the chase. My heart
was racing and I knew that I could go the rest of the trip without another sea lion sighting and not be disappointed.

Thankful to be done with the close encounter with my nemesis, I paddled for a couple more hours as a mild headwind kicked up and a raincloud formed in front of me. I saw a bridge in front of me and made it a few mile past it before I spotted a duck blind on stilts. It was a modest home but with its dry plywood floor and a small roof I
could enlarge with my tarp it would prove to be a perfect spot call home for the night. it was 6:15 and I had made it another 50 miles in 10 hours. I was tired and my hip was hurting pretty bad but I was glad to be only 30 miles from my destination.
In early morning, maybe 4:30, I woke from a crazy dream I was having about dropping my boat into the river, to realize there were waves splashing under the duck blind and my boat was banging up against the stilts. I jumped up worried that my dream might be coming true. I had done a good job of tying up my boat but I wanted to double check. I had anticipated the water coming up pretty high but didn't realize my little island would be completely under water at high tide. It was still dark but I was restless so I slept lightly waiting for the tide to ebb as by boat banged gently against the blind. When I woke again the grass was showing on my little island, I ate fast knowing that you cant stop the tide, and I wanted to be on it. I had decided to stay close to shore on the Oregon side for the rest of my paddle. There were little islands and channels there which I could use to protect me from the swell if the wind picked up. It was a little longer than going straight across the bay to Astoria, but the scenery would be better and it would be better than sinking my boat miles offshore. The tide was ripping and I was making amazing time again, I felt extremely lucky to be having such ideal conditions 3 days in a row. At about 11 I stopped for lunch where 2 fisherman had a fire going. Josh Massett and David Reyes were there names. They were both in there late 20s and were enjoying the sunshine trying to catch Chinook salmon. No luck today but they did mention my good luck as this was one of the biggest tides of the month and would last an extra hour giving me more time to get to Astoria.. I was enjoying there company, but still had another 7 miles to go, so I thanked them for there hospitality and set off with the ebbing tide. The last few miles are unprotected from a east wind, a good breeze picked up and helped push me right into Astoria. I was going to paddle right past town but the smell of hamburgers drifted by me and prompted me to treat myself to lunch at a diner. It wouldn't hurt to let the tide switch anyways. My waitress at the 100 year old diner was Tami Oconner, a tall brunette with a sparkle in her eye and a nervous pace like anyone would be with a kid at home and to much coffee from the lunch rush. The place slowed down we chatted for a while. She told me her story as I told her mine. This is my 3rd diner to stop at along my trip and they have all proved to be a genuine American experience. One that gives me hope that humans aren't so bad. they are genuine and caring, always curious about the guy in a srysuit. I eventually got a hold of Ginny my girlfriend, she was surprised to hear I had mad it so far and wondered if I could make it to the ocean that day instead of the following day like we had planned. It was 3:45 and it gets dark a little after 8. with 8 miles left to go I felt confident I could make it, even though I knew the wind and the tide would be against me. I hurried to my boat and began what I knew would be at last 3 hours of hard paddling. I had a 3 mile wide bay to cross with the tide, and wind going against me, then I would be free of the tide and would be able to hide from the west wind on the final 5 miles. With only 3 hours left before I was finished with over 800 miles of paddling,, I pulled for all I was worth and made it to the inside of the Stevens state park sandbar by 7pm. a short walk through thigh high grass proved to be brutal but with the thought of being so close I kept at it without stopping. I wanted to stand in sight of the ocean with my boat next to me. This proved to extend the challenge, for the last 50 yards was up a steep hill with loose sand. I was on all fours clawing my way up the final hill. At first the horizon line and then the crashing pacific surf marked the end of my journey. I didn't know how to feel. Tired for sure as I stood there breathing hard from my final exertion but what else. I was happy as hell to be done, sad for it to be over, humbled by the suffering I had
endured, mad at the politics, sorry for I wasn't here with the whole team, proud for finishing, calmed by the crashing waves, deepened by the complexity of the whole experience. Flooded by all of this emotion. I stood there for a while watching the sun settle on the horizon, knowing that I would be whisked back into the rigors of daily life. Of all the things that was the one thing I liked most about this trip. Not having to live in the time frame of daily civilized life but one of the earth and the natural ebb and flow of every day, tide, moon. it seems to be a pace I relate to . I will miss is dearly. I walked down to the edge of the ocean where the waves slide up onto the sand and tasted the water, making sure I was actually there. It all seemed like a dream and I wanted to make sure it was real. I've never tasted in a dream, and the water was salty and cold, it was confermed I was standing in the pacific ocean.

Hood River to North Bonneville

Monday April 20th would be a perfect day for paddling so i decided to make the most of it and get down past Bonneville dam, my last portage in the US portion of the trip. I put on at around 9am at the windsurfing launch. I met a fellow long distance paddler, his name was Par pronounced pear, like the fruit. He helped me put in on the glassy water so i could keep my socks dry for the day. It was a beautiful day, 70 degrees, sunny, and calm as it could be. The birds were out in force and I immediately felt the pressures of life fade away once more. Paddling through the reflections of stumps from a forest long gone with sea gulls perched here and there. I soaked it up, for I had been off the water just long enough to know that this was the good life, it was good to be back.

I paddled for a few hours appreciating the mild current which was whisking me to my destination at a steady 2mph. I spotted a Bald eagle at a distance, and was surprised when it let me get so close before it took to the air. There was a juvenile with it that dwarfed the adult. I guessed it was a mother and son pair. They were feeding on a fish as I came up to them and as I paddled away I saw them return to finish there meal.

There is always a little yin and yang to everything and I was reminded of this as I passed some lovely looking sludge that filled the eddylines of the river. It was as if the river was trying to keep me focused on the original goal of the trip which is to bring awareness to the Columbia river as a whole. The good and the bad...
My lunch spot was a large outcropping of rocks, a few miles from Cascade Locks. I was making great time and enjoyed a long rest hanging out on the warm rocks. It is amazing how a few weeks can change the weather, two weeks ago i was paddling in a drysuit, and now I'm wearing shorts and a T shirt. This truly is the good life.
Of course all good things come to an end, as the wind picked up at 1pm sharp right as i began my last paddling leg. luckily the current is strong as you pass Cascade Locks which made quick work of the remaining 5 miles. I made it to the Indian fishing area, my predetermined takeout before 2pm, a whopping 5+ mph average with lunch included. I was quite grateful. My plan had been to do this portion of the trip as a day trip so i could avoid portaging Bonneville dam with a fully loaded boat. It was paying off because though it was a short distance from the river to the road, it was almost straight up a rocky bank which I made quick work of by carrying my boat up in 1 trip. It would have been at least 3 trips with a boat full of gear.
Once on the road my wheels made easy work of the portage, the dam security threatened me with arrest if I didn't portage all the way to a boat ramp 1 1/2 miles downstream from the dam. Since I was dropping my boat off in North Bonneville 2 miles from the dam, I just walked it to town. There is a small creek that runs through N Bonneville which I put on and paddled the final 1/2 mile to my friend Jerred Jackmans house. The creek was clear and cold. I spooked at least a dozen mergansers from the shallow riffles, and watched a turkey vulture sore above the tree tops just above me. It was a perfect ending to the days paddle. I'm looking forward to finishing the final leg to the ocean as soon as possible.

I made it to Hood River!!

Though most of this trip has been about quality suffering, its moments like these that make it all worth it. This is a 270 degree view of my camp lagoon, Sunday morning. Click on it for the best viewing experience.

I was stopped 12 miles east of Arlington, WA by 45 + mph winds last week. I took the opportunity to hitchhike home and refuel my mind and body. Having access to the Internet allowed me to spot a 2 day break in the west winds, to head back up and sprint to Hood River.

I got dropped of Friday night, right where i left off, three mile canyon,Exit and mile marker 151 on I 84. I was up and paddling by 5AM, and took a brief stop in Arlington to pick up some gear I had left at home. Thank you Trever Jostad for driving out to get me out of my wet jeans.

The published "portage" road around John Day dam is blocked by a large gate, and I almost broke my arm trying to lower my boat into the water at the locks outlet, the only place I could find access to the water.
I made it about 10 miles past the dam before darkness began to creep up. I camped on a large island called Miller Island, and ran into a fellow photographer who had paddled over from the Washington side to photo old Indian paintings. Scott Dietz was pleasant company to cook dinner with, we exchanged photography ideas and tried out our moon lite technique. Sunday morning was sunny and beautiful, my first truly warm day of the trip. The Dalles Dam proved to be almost as bad as John Day, minus the vertical water entry. The walk down the railroad tracks was bumpy and unnerving since there was nowhere to go but into a little ditch next to a vertical rock wall. luckily a train never passed. I was Back on the water by 3pm Sunday with 20 miles of paddling ahead of me. The Easterly Winds I was hoping for finally breathed a slight breath on my back as I passed Lyle, my first familiar corner of the river. The Hood River bridge was a sight for sore eyes at 6:30 PM, 85 miles and 2 dam portages from my starting point sat morning. I am beat, but glad to have finished most of the "wind tunnel". Hood River puts me about 800 miles into the trip.

Scott Dietz was kind enough to send me these photos to publish.

"Keel Arriving".

I spotted Scott camped on a sandy beach on what i thought was an island. I wondered if my island was in fact an island or a peninsula, and was glad to find out it was indeed an island for it would have added miles to tomarrows paddle if it were not.

"Visitor"

As i cooked dinner Scott experimented with slow exposures on his camera. This one came out great

"To The Ocean"

I feel like a tiny dot in the vastness around me. Reflecting on myself and the world around me.

Sunday morning I woke to birds chirping in the stillness. This photo embodies the feeling i get out on the river.

"Details, Hells Gate"

I head west through Hells Gate, witch seperates Miller island from Washington, wrinkling the reflection with my wake.

Photos copywrite Scott Dietz

www.thenarrativeimage.blogspot.com

Im Experiencing the Columbia !!!

I have just completed the first 600 miles, marking the halfway point of the trip.

Follow our progress with google maps, and join in on the journey at www.thecolumbiaexperience.com which will have daily position updates, photos, journal entries, and video.

This trip is an effort to raise awareness of energy use, and current global hydro development. Which ultimately effects the health of our planet, and you.
Come join the experience!!!
Here is a link to the wenatchee world which ran an article on the trip.
The Wenatchee World

Heres an update from yours truly!! Enjoy.

I have arrived in Kenewick, WA. 300 and change miles from the coast.
It has been an amazing journey, and has been everything i thought it would be and more. The weather has been brutal until the last 4 or so days, very cold, and even though i have Kokatats newest expedition dry suit, staying warm has been my greatest challenge. Since parting ways with Ryan Scott in Fauwker, BC. Paul and i have stayed together as a loose team. We have completely different crafts which challenge us in unique ways. I am paddling a 17 foot expedition sea kayak, thanks to Next Adventure. Paul is rowing an 18 foot cater raft donated by Sotar rafts. My kayak is very fast but uncomfortable for long periods of time for i can barely move inside it. The boat is packed so tightly i have 2 full dry bags in the cockpit with me along with my water bottles and tent poles which froze outside my boat for the first 16 days. Paul has lots of room, and is high and dry, but is at the mercy of the wind. This last single factor has dictated the pace of out trip.
The First two weeks are a blur of Brutal cold, jaw dropping scenery and wildlife which sometimes left me spellbound for days. I have enjoyed endless solitude for i spent very little time in the presence of anybody except my own mind. When i did meet up with Paul we would speak little for the sound of our voices seemed a foreign thing in this world. Our plan was to paddle 20 to 25 miles a day. This is a reasonable if not easy task in a sea kayak, if not for the winter conditions. But this scedule has proven to be grueling in a cater raft. I paddle from 9 in the morning till 5 or 6 in the afternoon taking a break sometime for lunch, usually as i pass Paul. The wind blows during the day growing stronger towards the afternoons so paul paddles whenever the conditions or his body let him. There were a bunch of days when he would be miles behind me when i set up camp right before dark. The next day i would set out and wind up catching him at around noon the next day. I would find out he had slept for a few hours huddled on the floor of his raft. Or camped on a rocky beach waiting for the wind to stop, and continuing on. We came to Grand Coulee dam at the end of the second week. It would be the first of 7 dams that had no locks and would require a portage. The only dam we had passed so far was keenleyside Dam at the end Of the Arrow Lakes in BC, and It had a lock . I arrived at Grand Coulee half a day ahead of Paul, for i sprinted the last day wanting to find a ride for the raft before Paul got there. I ended up meeting the owner of the local paper, Scott Hunter at Pepper Jacks the local diner. Scott spent the entire day helping us find a trailer to portage the dam with on the quiet Saturday. We got back to the water at 6pm and headed downstream with a mild current. Our goal was to get 45 miles downstream by the following afternoon. We were hoping to catch a fisherman leaving Chief Joseph reservoir, who would help us around the dam that afternoon. The next 24 hours Paul slept maybe 3 hours and rowed all 45 miles. We didn't get to the boat ramp till after dark due to a brutal headwind that stopped us in sight of the dam. The fisherman had left, but we still felt like we had made a huge dent in this endless journey. Paul was exhausted and I made him dinner for he was to tired to crunch down some dry ramin noodles and gorp which had been his staple till this point. I was blown away he even made it this far. I had paddled hard well into the night before, and all day fighting a constant headwind. To my amazement Paul would have beaten me there had it not been for the gale force winds that forced him to stop. He had long ago earned my respect, but after this I determined he was one of the toughest people I know. It would have been a big feat to do this on any day. But to get it done after two weeks of exhausting paddling, and painful tendinitis in his right forearm. This was a feat few could muster. My hat was off to him and a hot dinner was the least I could do for him.
The next morning the local ranger threatened both of us with citations for we were camped on the lawn next to the boat ramp. We were lucky enough to score a ride with a local fisherman Ken Schroeder, so we wouldnt need to camp another night. He was in his 70s and had lived in the area all his life. He remembered life on the river before the dams and thought it a hell of a feat we were trying to achieve. He even gave the ranger a hard time, for he felt it was the rangers responsibility to portage us around the dam for it was the state who had put the dam here in the first place. He posed for a picture with his high strung little dog for me before he drove off from the boat ramp below the dam. We put in and paddled down the river appreciating the current that carried us downstream for free.
The next week continued in similar fashion. The dams continued to be a major obstacle but proved to be an opportunity to meet some amazing people. I have learned that people are truly kind at heart and will go far out of there way to lend a helping hand to someone in need. Without there help we would be rolling my 200lb of gear and Paul's 400lb of gear around every dam with our 1 set of wheels. A task that would have been crushing at best. We were getting super lucky finding rides and wound up getting to Wenachee almost a week ahead of schedule. At random i ran into another newspaper. Mike Bonnickson, from the Wenachee World. He took full interviews with Paul and I and put together a great article articulating our journey and mission. I feel I have been as lucky as one could get. The 3 times I have stopped for more than enough time to sleep and move on, I ran into two newspapers. This exposure was all I could hope for, for awareness is all I seek.
I camped with Paul on the night of the 19Th just south of Wenachee. Paul was sick from eating spoiled tofu burgers, and was happy to wait till 5pm the next day for he had secured a ride around the Rock Island dam. He looked like he needed some rest. I had also found a ride around Rock island dam from a fisherman I had met, Dale Ward. It was at 9am in the morning. We talked about it and concluded I would go ahead and meet up with Chris Bolkan, which was our oasis on this trip where we could shower and resupply. We had planned to paddle the Hanford Reach with a group of paddlers starting on the on Friday the 27th, So Paul had a week to go 60 miles. With only 2 dam portages 1 of which I could borrow a truck and help with if need be. This would be a chance for Paul to rest his sore arm and take it easy. It was also a chance for me to get on a computer and let everybody know that we were alive and well and truly having the experience of our lives. It is Monday the 23rd and it appears that we will pick up Paul late this afternoon or early tomorrow morning, and bring him to Chris's where he can clean up and enjoy the hot tub overlooking the river. It will be a long awaited and hard earned treat.

Here is a list of the people who portaged me around the dams.
Without there help i would still be hiking and paddling today.
Many more people helped with information on portage routes, and Boat ramp locations. As well as simple friendly conversation and intrigue. All of which has made the trip what it has become so far.

Grand Coulee, Scott Hunter
Chief Joseph, Ken Schroeder
Wells, Jerry McKinney
Rocky Reach,Dan Jester
Rock Island, Dale Ward
Wanapum, Keel Brightman Rubber Express
Priest Rapids, Scott Harris


It has been an amazing journey so far.

In March of 2009 myself and a group of 3 other paddlers, will embark on the longest self support journey of our lives. The focus of the trip is to raise awareness of a once free flowing river that currently holds more dams than any other river drainage in the world and to document the impact on the Columbia River from previous ways of life to present day water quality throughout the 1,243 miles of river. The itinerary is expected to take almost 2 months from the source of Columbia River, in Canada, to Astoria, OR at the Pacific Ocean.
The end goal is to raise awareness of hydro electric energy and help reduce the amount of waste and destruction for future projects in the Columbia River drainage as well as providing research for other water sheds around the world. Ultimately, reducing the amount of structures that present day corporations strive to place in the name of human progression

Happy New Year

Jake Sanders, Money Drop, Rock Creek, OR


Ben Stookesbury, Outlet Falls, WA; 1st successful Decent

Outlet falls is a spectacular 70ft spouting waterfall, near the town of Glenwood, WA. I have scouted it many time never seeing it at a high enough flow to consider calling the big hitter crew. When i arrived at the falls with Ryan Scott, there was a feeling that something special was about to go down. This falls has been on allot of peoples minds, mine included, and is rarely high enough to consider an attempt. I could hear the pounding of the falls from the road and knew that meant it would be good to go. There were cars lined up on the road and when i walked down to the classic lookout point i saw that there was a serious crew here. I recognized my friend, Barney Benito and Nate Herbeck, both talented videographers, as well as renowned photographers, Jed Weingarten, Charlie Munsey, and Richard Hallman. They were all lined up waiting for the photo epic to begin. The falls was juicing chocolate water into the cauldron below, spouting straight out from the lip for it was moving so fast. The boil was massive at the base, creating surges and reactionary holes that slapped into the ice covered walls of the canyon . A swim could turn ugly for the ice appeared to be overhung at water level and wrapped behind the falls.

There were 3 people there that were considering running the falls, Eric Boomer LJ Groth, and Ben Stookesberry. All of which are some of the best kayaker's in the world. If it could be done, these were the guys to do it. Eric Boomer was the first to step up to the plate. He otter slid into the river 50 yards upstream of the drop, and eddied out to establish visual contact with the media crews. All systems were go. He peeled out and set up for the drop in the class 3 lead in rapid. Everything looked perfect. He had good position at the lip and maintained great form throughout the free fall and landing. He disappeared for a few seconds and came out from the boil upside down and headed to the river right bank without his paddle. He wrestled with the boils and later with the frozen bank. After 8 or so missed hand rolls he swam and immediately stood up for he was right next to the bank. Though he didn't stay in his boat, it was a hell of a thing to accomplish and my hat is off to him for getting it done first.

Ben Stokesberry signed up next. His line was truly epic in all proportions. He had an almost identical setup as Eric but took an extremely late boof stroke, landing with almost perfect boat angle. It blew my mind, boofing a 70 footer is beyond dangerous, the margin for error is minuscule. Ben is an amazing kayaker it was quite a thing to see him stick the drop so cleanly.

LJ was standing near me when Ben ran the drop. I asked him what the thought. He had a recent back injury on his mind but felt the drop was to good to be true. The safety was in place and if there was a time to run it, than this was the time. He headed up the hill to get his boat. Again, he set up almost identically to Eric. As he rolled over the lip he let go of his paddle and leaned forward, i later found out he employs this technique so he can hold onto his cockpit to protect his skirt and keep himself in the boat. he went deep and was gone for at least a 4 count. When he surfaced he came up straight downstream of the boil. This cleared him of the boils and ice ledge that had hampered Erics hand roll. he rolled after a few attempts and looked around, dazed from the serious hit. All was well, he made it.


Eric Boomer, Giving it on the first attempt of Outlet Falls.