Middle Fork Feather (upper canyon) pt.2

UPPER CANYON

Below Nelson Point the river begins to carve a deep, forested canyon through solid Sierra granite. For the first few miles the river offered us a gentle warm up in class III boulder drops. The air temperature was warm and the water was cool. Within a few bends of the river, signs of civilization vanished completely. After the first mile I was already gaping at the unexcelled scenery and solitude of this place. I paddled into an eddy along side the river to stop and soak it all in. I thought to myself, “This place is amazing!”

At mile three we entered the unnamed upper canyon. Tons of fun class IV ensued. Rapids were wide boofy drops with many routes to choose from. I was reminded of the upper sections of the Cache La Poudre River in Colorado. Gradually, the river increased in difficulty. The canyon walls narrowed and rose up and into the sky. Some rapids noticeably increased to class V. The rapids were wide bouldery drops with calm pools at the bottom of each one. We would soon learn that “pool-drop” rapids epitomized the nature of this run; meaning that still water pools separated each drop offering us a chance to gather our wits and time to get out and scout the next one.

As we paddled up to the next drop, we saw a narrow horizon line, about six feet wide, to the left of a house-sized boulder. The guidebook warned us of a six-foot ledge that “should probably be portaged” in the upper canyon between mile three and nine. We got out on the right bank to scout. The water pushed around the house rock on the right and funneled through a six-foot wide spout down a steep shoot and through a sticky hydraulic at the bottom. A large pool waited below. The drop seemed clean and we judged that we could punch through the hole at the bottom. Chad strategically placed himself downstream of the house rock for the optimum camera angle to shoot us coming through the drop. He also stood by with a throw rope if needed. After scouting, I peeled out of the eddy and ferried out into the main current. As I accelerated, I passed by the house rock. I got one more strong forward stroke in before dropping down. The tongue of water dropped out below me. I had enough speed so I was able to smack through the hole at the bottom. However, the recirculating currents of the hydraulic tweaked the stern of my boat and I flipped backwards and to the side. I rolled up and paddled over to Chad’s position and traded places with him as cameraman and safety. Next came Ben, who had a similar outcome as I, and then Chad, who seemed to have the cleanest line. By now, each of us was grinning like an idiot.

Not far downstream, we encountered another significant drop. This one consisted of a jumble of boulders with a thinly navigable tongue through the center. The rapid ended with a five-foot wide launching pad of rock and projected the water out and over the gnarliest part of the rapid. After scouting, we each negotiated the boulder slalom and then styled the launching pad into the foam, five feet below.

The action continued nonstop through the upper canyon. The next great drop contained a large sloping rock in the center of the river with boulder sieves on river right and left. Water poured over a five-foot shelf onto smaller rocks below in the center of the river. This next line was an ultra-boof. The move was to ride up high on the center rock and gain enough momentum to drop down into the calmer water below. This time Ben was the photographer.

We had no bad lines, close calls or carnage of any kind that first day. This exponentially boosted my confidence on this river. We met several more class IV and V rapids that afternoon. We scouted some in detail and others we boat-scouted from the staging eddy above. They were all bouldery pool-drop affairs with large recovery pools at the bottom.

At mile nine the rapids eased to class IV for a time, and our thoughts began to stray towards camp. We had spent a long day on the water and we believed that we were making great time down river. We didn’t want to go too far that first day and unknowingly enter the next canyon; we would then suddenly be unable to find a suitable camp for the walls were steep and the river narrow. So, we scouted a few places and camped high above the river on a flat shelf on river left. While scouting for camp, Chad and Ben found the old remains of a twisted oar frame on the other side of the river. It was once a raft frame and looked as though it had suffered a pin against some rocks. It was wrung like a wet towel. Its owners must have pulled it off a rock after the mishap, abandoned the frame and paddled their raft the rest of the way out of the gorge.

I awoke the next morning feeling greatly refreshed. We ate a modest breakfast of granola cereal, milk and peanut butter. I unclipped my paddling gear from the nearby tree and hiked down the rocky incline to load my kayak by the river’s edge.

Soon we passed through a large turn in the river. We concluded that it was Horseshoe Bend, mile 10. This meant that we were two or three miles short of where we thought we were. It turned out that our conservative desire to camp early was premature. After floating another mile, our suspicions were confirmed. We spied two great camps on either side of the river, complete with large sandy beaches and flat sleeping areas. “This must be where people stay at the end of day one,” we exclaimed. Oh well, we just had to make up for lost time that second day. And we did, much to our exhaustion.

Random kayak video of Brad:
Tieton: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qb7I7A9Q2No
Wind River: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dL3uIrrLj40