Salida Combos 09

Two years ago I could do 4 trick combos. After working on them a lot last year I didn't improve on that number. With the new 2010 Allstar and 2 days of good water I completed a 5 and 7 trick combo and my 4 trick combo moves are cleaner and have more pop as well. Check out the video!

Upper Cherry Creek

"In my book its the best mile of white water in the world" JJ

Well that about sums it up and about anyone who has kayaked Upper Cherry Creek would probably agree that Cherry bomb Gorge to the tea cups is one of the best sections of white water anywhere.

"Classic"

Amazing views just to the west of Yosemite on the hike in.



After the hike, we decided to head down stream a little ways to "avoid" the bugs.



Camp


Morning 1/4 mile long class III slides






Cherry Bomb Gorge....living up to its reputation as quality!


JJ on the tea cups




With camp right below and light boats, we spent all afternoon running laps on the tea cups.


Good morning


The kiwi, thankfully with no one stuck in the pocket




And finally the crew

A Video Guide to Crystal Gorge

Crystal Gorge is easily on of the best runs in colorado. I thought it deserved some documentation as to what it looks like down in that gorge. It is most definetly one of the coolest places I have ever been. I put together a helmet cam vid of every significant rapid in both gorges. Big thanks to Jonny Meyers for taking us down there. We had a great run, and it should be running for the next week or so, so come get on it before its too late!!!

A Guide to the Crystal Gorge from Fred Norquist on Vimeo.

Altos de Copalita -- Carnage in Five Acts

Brown Water.
The kayak floated out, but I still couldn’t see Ryan. “Fuck the boat!” I yelled to Matt, who was still in his kayak. He floated in the eddy, alert. I threw my heavy boat on shore and scrambled up through vines and loose dirt and spiders up to a cliff outcropping. I was on the wrong side of the river, but on river left where I had last seen Ryan, there was nothing but sheer granite, and I didn’t see any way to get out of the river over there. I hoped, at least, that I might be able to organize something from this side.
A moment ago, Ryan was chocked up against the river-left wall, upside down. The heavy boil from the steep, narrow rapid buried his kayak, then receded. I tried to pull his boat free as I was flushed down behind him. It didn’t budge. The current swept me downstream. I saw him pop up, swimming, free from the wall. Then he disappeared again.
This was the beginning of our misfortunes on the Altos de Copalita—the first day, the first real rapid. It was late. In this part of Oaxaca in southern Mexico, the pine-oak forests that descend out of the cloudy mountains meet; here, jungle, but becoming a desert coastline in only 40 miles. It had just started to rain, hard and lucent, like at the beginning of a heavy storm. The water was already brown, but hard to tell if it was any browner than when we put on.
I was feeling useless, wrapped in thorny vines, trying to squeeze myself up through a dark crack to get to where I could come up with a plan, when I heard Ryan’s “Yipp”. He had made it up onto the gorge wall on the opposite side of the river. His kayak had gone through the next set of rapids, and we wouldn’t find it until the next day, after Ryan had hiked through the night to catch a ride back to Huatulco.




Eddies.
Eddies are a critical part of Expedition style kayaking. For the next two days, there were very few eddies where one could both get out of his kayak and get out of the gorge to scout or portage. In one such eddy, we found Ryan’s boat, its nose split wide open.
Another was a very small Last-Eddy that Evan and I got lured into. He stood waist deep in the water and held our boats, trying not to get hit by the falling rock I let loose as I climbed up the ravine. The rapid was unrunnable, but for a while we clung to our hopes of escaping the canyon that day. First, Matt lowered me on live bait to check out a river right semi-portage that was hazardous but possibly much quicker than the ravine route. That being no good, we made an intimidating ferry back across to Evan, who held a throw-rope that was small comfort. After two hours of hauling up the ravine, we were cutting beds into the jungle mountainside with hands raw and pulpy from rope-hauling our heavy kayaks. We left ourselves just enough light to find a spring in the ravine, and filled our bellies with water.
That night, in the dark, much was left up to the imagination; the jungle was as loud as the rumble coming up from the river. During the day, I wore a drytop and pants tucked into socks. I spend my days hot, but heat never attacks like ants. Similarly, to sleep, I zipped up tight in my bivy-sac and traded heavy sweat for unmolested skin.

Jungle-Desert.
Henrys 5 Star Accommodations

When we woke up in the jungle, it was late when we broke from the jungle camp—it took a long time to do the little things like make coffee and take shits when vines impede every movement.
On our way back down to the river, we were rested, and in the light the first thing I noticed was the life: there were these amazing spiders, with brilliant colors, and especially brilliant webs, which were gold and iridescent. There were caterpillars that to the naked eye couldn’t have been told from a stick, and some that look like what kids make in art classes, clownishly huge and colorful. There were ants that had a fiery yellow on their backs and behind, and Evan—in a loud panic—had to pull one of those from his neck.
Toward the end of the day, we had another very hard portage. We had been running some heavy but very good whitewater when we got to a rapid in which up, through the jungle, was the only option. There—or at least at that elevation—it wasn’t just that the vegetation was so thick—it was the vines, which grabbed feet and necks and paddles. They made you trip and drop your boat, and some of them had big hard thorns that made you bleed, and some had little ones that left your hands with fifty little prickers that stayed in until they festered and swelled. At the river we ran a big rapid that we wouldn’t have if we could have kept portaging. It was a big hole. Trashing likely, we count on our heavy boats for momentum. “Fire it up, Edog!” I said to Evan, trying to convince myself as well. Matt and I ran out front, together, and we both get hammered—but the good kind of hammered, the getting out of the hole-hammered. Evan did the same.

Gringos Perdidos.

One omitted detail here is that the previous parties to kayak this stretch of the Copalita—at least two—have done it in one, long day, with unloaded boats, and—we think—at much lower water. We had packed for three days just in case, but really were fixing on two. After our third night in the gorge, we had plenty of food, but we were getting late for our pickup, which we hoped Ryan had gotten out to.

Matt Willson trying to get himself and his 90lbs watercraft, back to the water. On one of many hellish portages

Our plan was to call on the satellite phone. This was the kind of trip where plans go to die—the phone didn’t work.
Early the next morning, we emerged from the gorge, and found our friend Ariel bushwacking upriver with a machete and a partner. Ariel was one of a group of river guides from the Rancho Tangolunda that had come out to help Ryan look for us. The Rancho guides work the Alemania stretch of the river just downstream, which was still way too high for commercial trips.
Waiting by the river, I found myself staring at the river and making up forms. Every butterfly turned my head, and I heard voices and yelps coming from the rumble of the river. I pulled ticks and brushed flies to pass the time, and hung out with the group of guides, and Lino, one of the owners of the raft company. We ate tostadas and sardines by the big concrete structure and a big tube that came out of the river bank, with two thick powerlines coming down the hill from above. Lino took Ariel and the others back that night, and left us with our Suburban, to wait for Ryan and company.

Palo Malo.
The next morning, we were sitting in the suburban. Matt looked over at me, his face ballooned from either bee stings, which he had gotten setting safety the second day, or else the mysterious palo malo—the bad tree whose shadow, the locals say, is enough to infect the skin.
Matt said, “I’m going to start it up.”
I said, “OK.”
Matt said, “Just to see, you know.”
The suburban wouldn’t start. The fuel pump was bad, which we didn’t know, but we did have reason to believe we were out of gas. Later that morning, as I was failing at catching fish in the muddy water, two electrical workers showed up in a new white Ford. At the little compound at the top of the hill, where we were buying our food now, Matt borrowed a mangera—a hose, and they let us try to siphon some gas. On the first few sucks, the acrid fumes went straight up the hose to my brain. Mexican Fords have a little grate to keep out siphon hoses. I kept trying, and got a big mouthful of gas, although not enough to get a flow. I coughed and spat, but saved a little face by smiling and saying how sabrosa es la gasolina—how tasty. The electrical workers, who came to the pumping station once a year, thought this was hilarious.
It wasn’t long after the white Ford left that the Ryan, Guara, Gabo, and Burre—the rescue party—came into view at the upstream bend in the river. They had hiked into the bottom of the gorge and had spent two days walking down the river—much like we had only nonstop, no kayaks. Together, we drank all the beer the old lady in the tienda would sell us, and ate them out of their green-corn tortillas, eggs, and sardine cans. In the middle of the night, Lino arrived with a mechanic, who got our gas going in the dark. Ryan drove out the suburban, to meet us the next day at the Alemania-section takeout, where we could get Matt and his swelling skin to a hospital and our team and all our ticks, parasites, and blisters, back together again.


Story By: Henry Munter
Photos By: Evan Ross

My first Vallecito run - why haven't I been here before?

My pictures are having trouble fitting into the blog format here - please view my full Vallecito post BY CLICKING HERE.

Boofing Fuzzy Bunny – one of Vallecito's classic drops. Paddler: Chris Menges. Photo: Kevin Kuuskvere.

I have always had an excuse for not making it to Vallecito during its season even though I only live 4 hours away and I've been paddling clas V in Colorado for the past 6 years. It's too far. There is good stuff running closer. The crew is going elsewhere. We have no guide. Let's run Lime again….and many other lame excuses. After finally getting on Vallecito this season, I definitely have to concur that it is in fact the most quality mile of boating in the state. FOLLOW THIS LINK to the rest of the story AND more pictures…

Late Season Boof Madness

from dan piano, Routt County River Enforcement:
Late Season Boof Madness.

So it’s July and Steamboat boating is slowly coming to an end. The C-hole is full of tubers and fish creek is a trickle. Your only semi-convenient after work option is the Elk Box.

Me getting my 10^th lap of the evening.
Photo :Adam Mayo

The Elk Box can be found outside Clark, Colorado, north of Steamboat. It’s something to do in July and it’s sweet boof practice. The box can be run down to 450ish and up to whatever you want with 700 being the optimal on the Milner gauge. A couple of weeks ago we cleaned her out.

Put in on the North Fork; creek the tight boulder gardens to the confluence with the Middle Fork.

The North fork boulder gardens.

At this point get as much speed as you can and head river center to launch Mega-Boof into the sky.

Dan, Brian Burger, and Mayo blue angeling Mega-boof.
Photo: Duckyman

Dan getting a Megabooooof! Photo: Ducknasty

Mayo raising the roof. Photo: Ducktator

I love this boof. Photo: Duckster

So now your stoked and up next is V-Drive.

Mayo getting deep in the V-Drive.

Me peeling out of the room on the right after V-Drive.
Photo: Eric Monroe

After V- drive paddle the read and run and regroup above box falls.

Adam Mayo Boofin. Photo: Sarah Hamilton

Sarah Hamilton charging in for a boof.

Dan dropping into the green room.

Ashley Watts first boof into the box!
Photo: Eric Monroe

If you hit it right you can boof into the seam and go to the green room.

I love the green room. Photo: Eric Monroe

Its so green.

Once you land, heads up, cuz this is where things usually go wrong. Pick your line wisely.

Brian Burger choosing his line wisely. Photo: Ducky

Wear your full-face.

The box taking names.

Now what?

Eddy out on the right after the box canyon and lap the falls.

As I am writing this, it’s too low but look for it to come back in the fall with rain if you’re in the area and jonesing.

Stand Up Paddling - River & Ocean

As the river level starts to get low here on the mighty Arkansas, Haley and I have started to look for new ways to keep the river fresh and challenging. Luckily a week long trip to the Outer Banks in North Carolina gave us an opportunity to try Stand Up Paddling in Warm water and sparked our interest to start paddling them on the river. As soon as we arrived in NC we had SUP on our mind and rented some C4 Waterman boards as soon as we got to the beach. After a few hours of getting our balance down and falling on our faces, we started surfing and enjoying the crystal blue water.












Getting ready to test the 10'6 C4 Waterman board

Haley paddling past the breakers on the Outer Banks, NC

Haley riding the line

Eat your heart out Laird

Searching for Tiger Shark's

After spending a week at the beach on stand up boards, it was easy to see why people are paddling these odd crafts. For one, the training aspect is amazing. It is a total body workout that really works the core and upper body. This can be a huge tool for paddlers to use in the off-season, or anytime you need something different from sitting in a boat. Not to mention that it is really fun and it ads a whole other demension to water. Now that we are back in Salida and the water has started to drop out. We decided to test out some inflatable SUP's on the river and see what it was like. We got our hands on an inflatable KONA board and a KONA breakdown paddle and headed to the Salida whitewater park to test it out.

Busting through the Lower Hole

Searching for my lost Booty in the Pool

Upper Hole in Shredtown

Haley surfing the lower wave

The Verdict: Stand Up Paddling is ridiculously fun! It is a great way to switch things up on the river or train in the off season. SUP can be done virtually anywhere in the world that there is water, whether it may be flat water, whitewater, or ocean surf. I can't wait to add one to my quiver of water crafts.

West Cherry Creek

Before we could jump on Upper Cherry Creek, we had to wait a few days for it to come in. So the next best thing to Upper Cherry Creek is West Cherry creek.







Drop after quality drop.....




West and upper Cherry confluence



And of course we need to thank the 1950-1995 UCSD fraternity brothers from cooking us lobster bisque, pizza, and fresh brownies....thanks for hiking that in guys! Sadly they were not there when we came back for UCC





Don't be fooled by all the hype around Upper Cherry Creek. West Cherry is an amazing run in its own wright, and from the confluence down to the lake its very fun pushy whitewater!

Wicked Wednesday 2 Another Great Day

Here is a sweet little video from another great day in the roaring fork valley.
We did nf of the crystal 5 times, then headed to devil's punchbowls, did it 3 times, then headed to glenwood and rafted shoshone to jazz in the park. It was really fun.

Wicked Wednesday 2 from Fred Norquist on Vimeo.

Clover Creek, CA - Granite, Slides and Sequoias

Clover Creek is a small, steep, high sierra creek near treeline in Sequoia National Park, feeding the Kaweah. Not only are the drops super fun, the scenery is spectacular and you get to drive past some of the largest trees on earth. A visit to this zone gets you in the proxomity of many other ultra classic runs. We were on Clover in mid April, 2009. Check out the photos posted...


Scotty Baker, Clover Creek, CA. Photo - Chris Menges

Baker drops into the intro drops on Clover. Photo: Menges.


Chris Menges Enjoying the granite on Clover. Photo: Scotty Baker.


Nice POV of the granite steepness. Hood River's Dan Laham sliding. Photo: Baker.


Look close - Dan Laham dropping from the top of the main set. Photo: Menges


Menges having fun and wondering why he doesn't live in CA. Photo: Baker


Chris Menges in the 'entry slide' to a long set of slides. Photo: Baker


Dan Running "Fifty to Zero", sometimes portaged. Photo: Menges.


Baker in more slidy fun....


...and wrapping up the run in style. Photos: Menges

Silver Falls

Remember that drop Tao Berman ran in Twitch 5 or something like that? Well, a couple of days ago I had the pleasure of watching in person Evan Garcia and Jared Seiler run this ridiculous stout. Here are some pictures I took of Silver Falls, which is on Ohanaposche River in Mt. Rainier National Forest.

Evan (above and below)

Jared (above and below)

During our trip in that neck of the woods, we also had the opportunity to paddle the Little White, Green Truss, Cispus, and Ohanaposche Rivers.   Here are some pictures from the lower section of the Ohanaposche River.

Beautiful trees at the campground

Miguel Shields paddling in the crystal clear waters

The crew at the put-in

David Fusilli browning

Me Boooofing

Fusilli paddling .. waterfalls in the background...

We just explored an amazingly beautiful part of the country.  

Now we are in Seattle, doing "office work."  

Life could be worse.

Clear Fork Cowlitz

Dubbed 'The best run in Washington State' - this amazing canyon is a full on adventure. Especially with the current wood situation, it makes every blind turn and rapid that much more dicey. We dropped in on mediumish flows after a blast 4th of July weekend. Enjoy the video of this kick ass, towering basalt canyon... more updates on Huckin Huge.com to come soon.

Paddlers: Alex Kilyk, Rob Bart, Drew Austall
Camera and Edit: Cody Howard
Music: Rancid - "last one to die"

CLICK HERE FOR HIGH DEFINITION VERSION!!.

Big South-A-Paluza 2010

So here's the thing, I may have recently moved to the PacNW (aka. nirvana) where I might have 30+ kayaking options within 1.5hrs of my house on any given day that contain deep canyons, bedrock gorges, waterfalls, big water, steepness, great boofs, scary log sieves, and are all extremely close to a variety mocha latte java establishments but none of those can hold a candle to the Big South (aka. BS, Big Shizzle, the shit, Little North) when its flowing. A recent surprise b-day trip (thanks honey) back to the motherland recently reminded me of this fact and the fact the for the first year in 5+ years I'm probably not going to get my fix on my used to be backyard favorite. So this post is a photo tribute of sorts with some of my favorite pics from the past few years. Here's to a classic...a one of a kind run that is pulling on my heart strings right now.

Y'all take care of her this weekend, she's a beaut and remember boof hard, IT ALL GOES...