| A Kayaking Mission in California's High Sierra |
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 Dead Bear Falls.The waterfall had a cave on the right side of the landing so my intended line was to aim slightly left and straighten out on the lip, avoiding said cave. I ran the scenario through my head several times, planning how I would push off, the stroke I would take at the lip and then the forward tuck to minimize the impact of the landing. Once all the steps were clear in my mind, I pushed off. I rocketed down the granite ramp and hit the water at the lip only to find that it was slightly shallower than it looked. I could feel the rock shelf at the lip catch the nose of my boat, and in the next moment I felt the full weight of my stern, loaded with my  overnight camping gear, pull like a heat-seeker for the pool 50 feet below. Before I knew it, I was looking over my shoulder and spotting my landing as my boat lined up perfectly backwards and the freefall commenced. My back broke the tension of the water and completely softened the landing as I entered the pool below. I went deep and surfaced backwards and upright, clear of the recirculating hole at the base of the falls and the pothole on river right. I couldn’t have run it better if I’d planned it—backwards that is. * * * I’m not exactly sure what was going through my head when I dreamed of  heading out to California for a couple weeks of High Sierra expedition kayaking. I had only been in my creek boat a few times this season and had mostly been playboating around Colorado. But after years of watching footage of polished granite slides and a few quick conversations with my good friends Andre Spino-Smith, Dave Fusili, Jared and Graham Seiler and Nate Mack we found ourselves driving from Buena Vista to the Yosemite Valley in one brutal shot. After a day of epic views and epic traffic, we headed to the put in for Upper Cheery Creek, the first leg of our epic journey. We woke up before sunrise to get an early start on the 11-mile hike to the put in with a 90-pound kayak full of food, boating, camping and  photography gear. The grueling hike would take eight full hours and one teammate would have to turn back after a noble battle with a bout of food poisoning. We reached the river exhausted and relieved late in the afternoon and plunged straight into the river. The cool water and plenty of food gave the group energy to gear up for the run. The first few miles consisted mainly of low volume slides and falls and was pretty casual. We paddled until it was nearly dark and camped on a granite slab at the mouth of an awesome looking gorge. We built a campfire and enjoyed our first night of many in the backcountry. The next morning we woke up, brewed some coffee, made breakfast and relaxed for a few hours before getting on the river. The group’s excitement and anticipation was palpable as we ran a few rapids and watched the walls rising out of the river. Soon we arrived at a gnarly rapid marking the entrance to the most impressive place I have ever been—Cherry Bomb Gorge. Upon running this rapid, the entire group had committed to running a series of class V+ drops that are impossible to portage once inside. We ran a series of waterfalls and a couple big slides before catching sight of a gigantic overhang on river right where the entire mountain had given way, tumbling into the river and backing up a pool 100 yards in length. At the end of the pool we got out of our boats and hiked around the point where the river disappeared under the rubble, lowering our boats and down-climbing chimneys between massive boulders until we reached a small eddy at the top of the gorge’s crown jewel, Cherry Bomb Falls. From that eddy, all we could see was a 40-foot slide leading into a massive curtain of spraying water. There was no way to scout the drop after the curtain, so peeling out of that eddy had a uniquely committing feeling to it. After watching each of my friends scream down the slide, through the curtain and out of sight, I climbed into my boat and popped on my sprayskirt. After just a few strokes I found myself on the slide and gaining velocity. By the time I hit the curtain I was doing mach speed as I launched into a freefall that lasted far longer than I had expected. When I hit the pool, my boat skipped off the surface before ricocheting off the wall 15 feet from the base of the falls. The impact was so violent that it knocked the wind out of me, but Cherry Bomb Falls still put a grin on my face. I’ve never been in a canyon with walls so sheer and tall as Cherry Bomb Gorge. Pristine granite domes 1,000 feet in height rise directly out of the river, and from the water all you can see is granite. There’s not one tree or bush in the whole gorge. It is literally like kayaking on the moon or mars. On top of all this, once you’re in there, there’s no way out but down and through some of the most committing class V I have paddled. It doesn’t get any better than that! We paddled late into the day after Cherry Bomb, running as many big, clean drops as we could have ever imagined or desired. It was in this stretch of river that I found myself running Dead Bear Falls—backwards. By the time we reached the lake, we were completely exhausted after nearly 10 hours of class V. A family camped at the mouth of the river generously offered to motor us across several miles of flat water back to our car. What a way to cap off the day. * * * The next morning we drove back through Yosemite to the eastern side of the pass to prepare for our next mission: The Middle Fork of the Kings, a run widely considered to be one of the most challenging and dangerous in the Sierras. We slept and ate for a day, replenished our supplies and coordinated a trans-Sierra shuttle ride. Unfortunately Andre’s knee was injured after the Upper Cherry hike; he would drive shuttle. Sometime the next day I was midway through the 13-mile hike to the put-in, and the weight of my boat was beginning to cause a grinding sensation in my right hip joint. It was obviously caused by the steep switchbacks on the 3,000+ foot decent from the top of Bishop Pass, but stopping was not an option. The trail periodically took us through ponds, which proved ideal mosquito habitat. The insects’ strategy was simple: sip away the clean mountain water and attack anything with a heartbeat that happened to pass by. It was quite something being attacked by hundreds of mosquitoes while trying not to waste energy swatting at them. I had officially reached a level of exhaustion unprecedented in my life. Eventually the enormous granite domes of Le Conte Canyon came into view, marking the put-in for the most difficult river I have ever run. The next three days would be some of the most intense of my life. For the whole Middle Fork of the Kings story plus more photos and video of the trip, check out the South Main Kayak Team Blog: Thanks to Dustin Heron Urban for his help editing this piece. Each month South Main sends out an eUpdate which features new articles for and about the local Buena Vista community. To subscribe, please visit our contact us page. |
by: Jed Selby