Bellingham Whitewater

Stewardship and Strainers on the Nooksack River

It’s happened to all of us – you get to a favorite section of river or play spot and find a big ‘ol log, tree, strainer, root ball, or other annoying woody object wedged, obstructing, impeding, blocking, or generally in the way of your favorite river feature. What to do? Well, most of us back in the good ‘ol days would grab our breakdown folding saw or chainsaw and simply remove the offending lumber.

This very incident went through our minds last December when Eric and I surveyed the latest storm damage on our favorite Bellingham section of whitewater – the Horseshoe Bend section of the North Fork Nooksack. Now, I’m not trying to sound particular here, but you have to understand – this is our favorite section of rapids on one of our favorite rivers in this land of limited guaranteed paddling sections to explore after work on any day of the year! Let me explain a little about what things looked like.

The North Fork Nooksack starts out with a couple of miles of class 2-3 which gradually build to some choice class 4 rapids and finally climax in the delicious class 4+ rapids of “Bench Drop” and “SAT.” Many a Bhamster paddler has cut his paddling teeth on these drops. These are two of the crème-de-la-crème of Bellingham rapids, at least for us folks that aren’t full-time class 5′ers. These rapids are runnable almost any day of the year, rain, shine or snow, climaxing in some fun drops that challenge us, right when we need to stretch out our adrenal glands.

The wood ruined these drops practically.

Bench drop could certainly be run – but you better not screw up. Directly below the drop in the run-out (that has, I’m afraid, been needed on more than one occasion for rescuing flailing or swimming paddlers and gear post-Bench) lay a tangled mess of a downed tree. It was already draped with some red ropes – used by the power company I’m guessing to help stabilize some power or telephone lines that had inadvertently been lying in the tree’s path. (I have heard, fortunately, that it is possible to get through these strainers since then.) This was just above some fun rapids, some of my favorites on the run, that lie between Bench and SAT. Above SAT were several obstructing trees – all of which conveniently blocked any reasonably safe entrance to the rapid. Directly below SAT was another awful tree that was right in the path of boaters finishing the final drop. Below this was yet another tree. The words frustrating were grumbled more than once on that tree-viewing expedition.

But before we ran home to grab our chainsaws to clean up the mess and restore some semblance of our favorite rapids on our favorite run, we had to consider a few things.

First of all, as whitewater kayakers, I firmly believe that it is our moral duty to be stewards for the rivers and lands around them that we love so much. We need to think carefully about the consequences of our actions, and how they can affect the long-term health of a place. This is hard, since we humans can be very shortsighted. Yet we must force ourselves to see bigger than what’s immediately in front of us, and find long-term ways to lesson our impacts. Second, one of the first lessons in ecology is that everything in nature has a purpose. Nothing is ever wasted. So, what’s the purpose of wood in a river?

Well, that depends on whom you ask, but here in the Northwest, everyone that has any brains at all understands that salmon are critically important to the economy and culture here, and many salmon runs are endangered. In fact, all three stocks of Chinook salmon that spawn in the Nooksack are listed as threatened in the Endangered Species Act. Spring-run Chinook spawn up to Nooksack Falls, several miles upstream of Horseshoe bend. According to the Whatcom Salmon Recovery website, Chinook require deep pools, large gravel, and shaded riparian areas to keep the water cold.

Ah, that’s where these strainers, so frustrating to us kayakers, come in.

Kevin Colburn, American Whitewater’s National Stewardship Director, writes in his March/April 2001 American Whitewater journal article that “logs have incredible ecological importance in many river systems. Logs trap sediment…are a food source to aquatic insects and trap leaves and other important nutrient sources like salmon carcasses. Logs create pools and overhead cover that act as critical fish habitat. Logs dissipate stream energy that would otherwise potentially cause erosion to the bed and banks of the stream. Logs…increase habitat complexity.” You can read the rest of his thought-provoking article here.

So logs are important, critical even. Rivers without logs and other features are virtual moonscapes for diverse healthy habitats. To simply remove the offending debris would be irresponsible. But does this mean we have to abandon our favorite stretch of river until the next flood comes and clears it out? Is there any chance for a compromise?

I believe there is, though it is not without controversy. I believe we could remove just a portion of the logs, allowing safe passage downstream for kayakers, without completely pulling the wood from the river. The point is to only remove wood that poses a serious safety hazard, and is not just an inconvenience. In this way we can help preserve the essential complexity of this free-running river, thus preserving salmon spawning habitat and helping a federally threatened species keep a toe - or fin-hold - in this world. And at the same time, we can continue to enjoy some of our favorite rapids that help nourish our spirits and bodies when we most need to get away from the daily grind.

In addition, by keeping these streams passable, paddlers can continue to contribute to the local economy of the area by buying gasoline, visiting local stores, and enjoying fish tacos and the like at our favorite nearby restaurants (for readers from out-of-town, I’m talking about Graham’s, right at the take-out for the Canyon section of the Nooksack. They have the best fish tacos around!). Because the sad fact is that when the rivers aren’t passable because of logs or low flows, we don’t paddle. (I’ll save the global warming speech and how that could affect flows in the future for later.)

The point is that this is a fragile issue. In simplistic terms, it could even be called a “paddlers versus fish” debate, which isn’t anything new. I’m all for conserving fish species. Their importance ecologically, culturally, economically, aesthetically, in addition to their right simply to exist, cannot be overstated. But I also believe that modifying an impassible strainer to allow safe passage for paddlers while still preserving fish habitat is not only possible, it is critical. How are we to remain connected, concerned, and aware citizens if we are barred the chance to visit our favorite places so we can commune, observe, and in general feel a part of our natural world?

I go to the river to find solace in the thick mossy Douglas firs and hemlocks lining its banks, to feel a part of its silt-laden, frigid waters, born of glaciers, that slide beneath my kayak, to witness the landscape evolving in the form of landslides and new features from the weight of mountains, water, and weather, to watch alpenglow painting Mount Baker pink as we emerge from the canyon, and to test myself against these natural formations we call rapids and whitewater. The river awakens my sense of purpose, my delight at finding myself here in this incredible part of the world, and makes me feel alive and lucky to be here.

But I also go to the river to learn about it so I can help protect it. We can enjoy our favorite rivers while also being stewards to them. We can help preserve the species that live in them full time while we visit only fleetingly. It is a balance we all search for – to be a part of nature while helping to preserve it at the same time. I hope that all paddlers remember this.

In the mean time, seeing as it’s already February and I haven’t paddled nearly enough lately, I’d better head up there to check on those strainers. Perhaps they’ve moved out of the way naturally by now? Sometimes the best way to be a steward of wood in the river is simply to have patience…