Bellingham Whitewater

Canyon Creek Carnage

So, here’s the scorecard from last weekend’s paddle on Canyon Creek (S.F. Stilly- Class IV-V):

Paddlers at Start of Run: 5
Length of Run: 1.3 miles
Gage Level: 6.25 ft
Swims: 3
Pinned Boats: 1
Lost Boats: 1 (found later)
Paddlers at End of Run: 3

Hmmm. To say that things didn’t go to plan might be the understatement of the year. For my part, I may have actually spent more time getting trashed in the first rapid than I spent paddling. Here’s the story, in all its gory detail…

Amy and I headed down with Jon on Saturday morning and met up with Brad and Joe, friends of Jon’s from the Seattle area. We quickly set shuttle, geared up, and put on the river. The level of the creek looked good to go, though the description on A-Dub had mentioned that “things do kick up a notch above 6′”.

The first rapid on the run is about 200 yards down from the put-in. Little did I know at the time that this was to be the extent of my upright paddling for the day. We got out to take a look at the first drop, where the creek plunges over 3-4′ tall sloping ledge towards river left, encounters a large rock outcrop, and makes a nearly 90 degree turn towards river right. The creek then drops over another 3′ ledge that extends out to mid-channel from river right. The right side of this ledge pushed into a sketchy-looking wall with an ugly jumble of rocks just below it. We all thought that everything looked fine, although the first hole had a nasty pocket on the left side that was backed up by the downstream outcrop, and the right side of the second ledge didn’t look too friendly.

The move here was to hit the first ledge driving right to hit a nice-looking boof flake at the right side of the ledge, and then ferry hard to line up on and punch the hole at the left side of the second ledge. I went down to hold rope at the second ledge. Amy ran the drop first, aiming for the boof flake but getting pushed left and plugging the hole, then having to make a stronger than-expected ferry to run the second ledge. Brad, Joe, and Jon followed with similar results, each getting deflected left away from the boof flake at the first ledge.

With everyone safely downstream, I hopped back in my boat to run the drop. I entered the first ledge driving hard right to make the boof flake, but got deflected left just as everyone else had and plugged the hole. Here is where things went bad. I’m not sure exactly, but I feel like I resurfaced with my bow pointing into the bad pocket to the left, where the others had resurfaced pointing right, which was the direction they needed to go. For a second, I thought I’d be able to paddle out, and aggressively turned my boat towards the downstream flow.

Canyon Creek had other plans, though, and I was tractor-beamed backwards into the hole. Rolling up, I again thought that I might be able to get out, but was immediately spun into a series of cartwheels, ending up upside down in the hole and unable to roll back up. So, I pulled and swam. Now, many of us have swum out of holes before, including myself, but I personally have never experienced anything like the beating I was about to receive.

I was hoping that I would flush out of the hole when I pulled, but instead, I was still stuck in the hole with my boat. I never even came to the surface after pulling my skirt, but was held under in the violent, highly aerated water. At this point, things sort of slowed down for me. I remember thinking “Gee, everyone with a rope is downstream of me” as I desperately struggled to get to the surface for some air. I felt like the surface was always about 6 inches above my head, but I just couldn’t quite get there. After several seconds I cycled up to the surface just long enough to grab a single gulp of air, then was held down again. Occasionally, I felt my boat hit me, and desperate for air I reached out and grabbed it, and was able to use it to get me to the surface. I got another quick breath this way before getting sucked down yet again.

After using the boat again to get the surface, I finally flushed towards the manky right side of the second ledge. I had time for a couple of quick strokes towards center before dropping over the ledge and into the hole at the bottom. Immediately buried by turbulent water, I went deep, hit some rocks, and finally flushed out, where Joe roped me in. I’m not sure if the river-right wall is undercut, but it definitely got really dark while I was down there. Amy estimated that I was stuck in the top hole for about 40 seconds.

My boat continued downstream, where it pinned on a log that extended out from the river-right bank. After an hour of effort and some spiderman moves by Brad, we got it off the log. Thoroughly exhausted and sore, I decided to hike out. The rest of the group continued downstream. On the way back to the car, I encountered a group of relieved 10 year olds on bikes that had witnessed the entire event from the bridge below the rapid. “Now, let that be a lesson to you, kids…”.

From that point, all of my information is second-hand, but Joe ended up swimming halfway through a long, bouldery rapid. He was able to get out quickly, but his boat continued on and get stuck in a nasty ledge hole downstream, where it remained for about 5 minutes before getting roped out. Amy then had the misfortune of finding a small fuck-you rock at the lip of the same ledge and got parallel-parked in the hole, an event eerily similar to her last swim, three years ago on the Ricochet section of Icicle Creek. She eventually swam and popped up into an eddy that recirculated back into the hole. The others quickly hit her with a bag and pulled her out. Joe said that she was getting pulled back upstream into the hole hard enough that he skidded on the shore trying to pull her out.

Amy’s boat had disappeared downstream as she was getting pulled in, and she was forced to hike out. The remaining group took some time to collect themselves before giving chase to her boat. They eventually reached the take-out (where I was waiting), having seen no sign of Amy’s Java. We were looking at the map trying to figure out where she might be, when an unhappy-looking Amy jogged up. She quickly rallied the troops to go look for her boat downstream and took off paddling my kayak. Jon joined her on the river, while the rest of us provided shore support, meeting up with them at points where the road came close to the river.

Eventually, after six miles of river and several hours of frustrated searching, they found her boat floating in an eddy. It was full of gravel and had two softball-sized rocks in it, but was undamaged. They appeared at the bridge that we were waiting at just before dark, and our tired but relieved group headed home.

Now, three days later as I sit here writing this report, I am still feeling the effects of my thrashing. I feel as though I got hit across the legs with a baseball bat, my arms are sore, and something’s tweaked with my back. Ugh. While I hope to never get a beating like that again, it did serve as a good reminder of the power of the river. Not that I had been getting cocky or anything, but sometimes it is easy to forget. I’d really like to head back out and see the rest of Canyon Creek sometime soon, though I might do it at a little lower water.

Hopefully I can stay in my boat for more than 200 yards next time…

–Eric

(By the way, check out Brad’s perspective on the trip here.)