Feeling Lucky in Arizona’s Fickle Paddling Season? Pump House Wash

Ted Decker sliding into Mexican Pocket

Timing the Arizona paddling season is just shy of impossible. Good flows on some of the classic sections might last for only a week, and catching the correct flow on an obscure river might just take luck. Fortune favored Tom Herring, Ted Decker, Dave Sherman, Pete Traylor, and me when early spring rain began to fall on a substantial snow pack just south of Flagstaff, Arizona.   

Pump House Wash begins atop the Mogollon Rim, just south of Flagstaff. It quickly plummets through spectacular sandstone layers to a confluence with another small tributary creating Oak Creek. Oak Creek then produces a couple of classic whitewater sections as it cascades its way down, through the city of Sedona.

Hiking down to the put in

Pumphouse Wash, Sedona, AZ from Chris Baer on Vimeo.

Accessing Pump House Wash

From Flagstaff, head south on 89A to County Road 237. Early spring missions usually mean that the 237 road is closed. If this is the case, park at the gate. Walk on the seasonally sloppy, muddy road for about a 1/4 mile and then veer right into the woods and continue downhill. Once in the trees, follow your ears and you should be able to make out the flow of the small wash. Put in where you can and deal with a short-lived, bouncy paddle in. Soon you will be at the first major horizon line, Mexican Pocket. Scout or portage from river left, but remember: this is what you came for. This is by far the best rapid on the section. Mexican Pocket offers a bouncy slide that puts you dangerously close to the right wall which then drops you into a boiling hallway at the precipice of a 15’ drop. After the drop, you quickly descend into the sandstone layers. Stark white Coconino sandstone caps the classic red sandstone of the Supai Group. It’s this Coconino that you will only see high up in the drainage and the red Supai below comprises the majority of the paddling run. This relatively soft sandstone has been carved into a myriad of tiny slots, sluices, and pocketed ledges, intermixed with a few complicated, multistage rapids. Just to add character, the wash also has plenty of blind corners and partially submerged trees.

Our group portaged two successive drops near the middle of the run. The first one lands on rock, and the second is a very tight, complex lead-in to a fifteen-ish foot drop that recirculates under the left wall. Thankfully, this horizon line is rather obvious from inside your boat, and relatively easy to portage river left. Stay heads up for fallen trees and blind corners all the way down to the 89A bridge, your take out.

A motley and slightly chilly crew at the take out

Water levels are determined on a hydrological barometer gauge that can be found at:
https://www.americanwhitewater.org/content/River/detail/id/121/#tab-flow
Our flows peaked at 1,400 cfs the night before and were hovering around 1,000 cfs on the barometer gauge when we put on, meaning we were really paddling on 200 cfs at the put in and 500 cfs by the take out.

keep your eyes peeled all the way to the take out

If this stretch were all Mexican Pocket-esque drops, it would be a 5 star mission, however it never really comes together. Floating underneath arches and through tight, inescapable clefts of towering bright red sandstone makes for a spectacular location, but the rock structure never combines with the gradient at the correct time to build great whitewater. Not to mention that the water level rarely gets high enough, and when it does you’re scouting and portaging in snow. But when serendipity strikes, it’s definitely a worthwhile adventure.

adventure by Chris Baer

Upper Whitcombe, NZ 

Another North American summer was coming to an end and the thoughts of warmer destinations were circling in my dreams: Where to go? For how long? Is there anything I need to get back to the states for? Any crazy remote missions? Political Nightmares? Work opportunities? Graeme Singleton hit me up, "Do you want to work in NZ for Eco Rafting? You'll get to go heli rafting!" Yes, that is what you think it is. Instead of meeting the rafting clients and getting on an old beat down bus, you get in an old beat down helicopter and fly up a remote canyon.

hard earned cash transforming into unimaginable transportation

How could I say no? The smooth rock features, helicopter access canyons, and the idea of coming out of the winter financially stable all seemed rather intriguing.

over the ocean somewhere... long flight

The first weekend in New Zealand

was a whirlwind. My kayak got confiscated and fumigated for transporting a couple of live ants from West Virginia. Paul Siratovich took me out on the town but we got denied access into the downtown bars for wearing "jandals" (flip-flops). I bought a used Nissan mini van, and traveled six hours to Queenstown.

getting the kayak out of hock at the international fumigation terminal

Go figure, none of the US certificates transfer to NZ. So I spent a week in a New Zealand swift-water course, after which I was seriously itching for some real creek boating.

Hokitika

was the next destination, known as being the "creek boating capital" of New Zealand. Swinging through Hokitika for some groceries, I poked around looking for anyone that was paddling. Bumping into a paddling crew, that I am sure to paddle with in the future, we did the classic. "Hi… yea you paddle… well we are going into this hard section… and umm…" I have the utmost respect for that crew to deny me a spot on the difficult, helicopter access, river section. For gods sake we just met in a parking lot. Stated in many previous stories, it is imperative to know your crew. That crew did help me out with some beta. Another group of paddlers was heading to the same helipad the next day to do a slightly easier section. I was jonesing hard enough to paddle with strangers, especially if it was not going to be a super hard West Coast run.

New Zealand, Helicopters and steep canyons! from Chris Baer on Vimeo.

Special Note for traveling internationally: Make sure you wash your boat and gear WELL! Not just to save the eco system you are visiting, but also so you don't get hassled at Customs. Another new trick I implemented this year: tip out the curb side baggage guy. $40 bucks made the imposing task of getting the boat past the check-in agent smooth. The curb side guy pocketed the cash, gave me a hand getting all my stuff out of the cab, wheeled it to the first class counter, and everything went on the plane without getting weighed or charged for being over sized.

The next morning I arrived at the helipad. The crew from the previous day, along with a few new faces, were all getting prepped for the incoming helicopter. Once again they stated there was another crew coming that might be in for an easier section.

A few minutes passed and another kayak laden car pulled into the parking lot. The occupants got out and after a quick couple of seconds, Mark Basso and I made the connection. We had bumped into each other seven years prior at a race on Big Timber Creek in Montana. Hands shook, and some catching up started, as he introduced me to his traveling companion Dag Sandvik. Dag classically shares a ton of mutual friends, and has become an instant buddy.

Traveling paddlers unite! 

The days paddling strategy was agreed upon. We would go up the namesake river the Hokitika and paddle back to the cars. Moments later we received some beta from the helicopter pilot. A landslide had come in on the Hokitika and had changed a particularly narrow and inescapable canyon, not to mention the flow in the Hoki was really low. Mark went up for a quick reconnaissance flight and confirmed our change in strategies. We reassessed our options and decided to put-in at the same place the other crew did, and paddle the "difficult" canyon.

part of the lower canyon, from way above

Watching the helicopter take flight with your kayak dangling 100 feet below in a tangle of cargo net is pretty awe inspiring. A few minutes later the chopper flew back in and we boarded for a 20 minute (18 kilometer) flight to Price's hut. Upon landing on a small gravel beach, we hopped out of the helicopter and unloaded our boats. The helicopter pilot then turned to us and said, "give me a text when you are out of the canyon, so I don't come up here looking for you tonight." The words were comforting, eerie, and stunning; we were way up a drainage with one imposing way out.

make the easy leg of the journey

None of our crew knew the section, or even the character of the river bed. We quickly started scouting any and all horizon lines. Putting the fun back in siphon (si-FUN), there were tons of undercuts and missing water in every rapid, along with some absolute exquisite rock formations. Every rapid had a hidden hazard and most had an appealing line.

Dag Sandvik, on one of the countless fun moves

Slowly we tackled the first gorge, paddling most of the rapids, but finding a few that did not reach our risk to reward threshold. Portaging was tricky and some awkward seal launches where necessary to make downstream progress.

The crew was rather dynamic. The fact that I didn't know either of the guys really well meant that we all kept the communication lines wide open. Chatting about different paddling options, and laughing at off color jokes, all while staring at death defying rapids.

As we exited the first canyon, the walls start to widen but the rapids did not let up. Huge boulders from the canyon have been strewn downstream and it took another kilometer of tricky boating to clear the class 5 whitewater. Finally the "difficult" section was over and the next few kilometers through the "flats" went rather quickly. Our stomachs were starting to grumble as we spotted Frew's hut. The rather well kept backpackers hut was a great lunch location as it offered resistance to the obnoxious sand flies. We took a few extra minutes at lunch getting to know each other and refueling for the final canyon.

Back on the water the final canyon arrived quickly. Thankfully the second canyon looked much more paddle-able than the first, from 1500 feet above in the helicopter. As we clamored out of our boats for the first scout of the lower canyon, the rapids exhibited the same eerie construction. Nothing was boat scoutable and hidden hazards were everywhere. Gracefully the rapids had a larger margin of error and the overall gradient was less than half of the upper canyon making the downstream progression much easier. A few hours and more than a few generous boofs later we made our way into the last flat section. Another couple of kilometers of conversation and a quick, but not very obvious hike, brought us back to the vehicles.

Mt. Cook in the distance

Old friends reunited, new friends made, and an awesome first day of steep creaking on the West Coast of New Zealand was celebrated with a couple of solid high fives and warm beer.

another adventure from Chris Baer

The Forbidden Fruit

Once upon a time in Minnesota, there was rumor of a creek that precariously meandered through the most arduous private property along Lake Superior's North Shore. That river is the Forbidden Fruit.

John McConville on the big one

The put-in for this creek is located on a small dirt road with friendly and humble residents. This year we were lucky enough to chat with some of the locals. The folks we spoke with granted us access to the creek. They also warned us about the asininely private residence down stream.

yes it's cold!

The paddle into the gorge is infested with wood. Blind corners held logs and ice damns during our early spring assaults. Upon sight of the first major gradient loss, we exited river right. An amazing series of slides that directly flow into a 25-foot waterfall is the first major attraction.

The rapids following the waterfall are rather continuous, and offer a wild variety of very constricted boulder gardens with the occasional off-angle boof.

Moving down stream we quickly enter into the delicate private property situation. Stealth is your friend, moving quietly is key. To limit our local contact, we made a point of only paddling this section during the week and during the "mud season."

The rapid Cabin Fever is directly in sight of most of private property, and hadn't been completed until this year. John McConville probed the once log-infested landing zone and negotiated the very tricky lead-in firing up a rather smooth first descent.

John McConville, dialing in the first descent of Cabin Fever

From Cabin Fever down you are in the backyards of most of the "cabins" along the river. There are two more slides on the run that ought to be run blind, as to not interact with the local inhabitants. Charge in and start smiling. The water pushes you in a positive direction while sliding the last 300 feet to the delta entering into Lake Superior.

To finish the run paddle into Lake Superior (if the waves aren't too big), and paddle North or South to your desired less-illegal exit location.

Please do not attempt this adventure if you are not confident in your ability to run the slides blind, and/or to complete the entire run in your boat. Hiking out of this river and through the private property could be catastrophic to the next team of paddlers.

another adventure brought to you be Chris Baer

How young is too young for kayaking Class 5

For the last few years I have been "organizing" a race on the Pine Creek section of the Arkansas river. My goal with the race is to have as much fun as possible and create an amazing spectator event. Chaos is always fun and the crowd seems to love it... so mass start is the way I try to start the race. Over a dozen kayaks, Seven rafts including the current National Champions, a couple duckies and shredders, toss in a pair of tubers, and a Topo Duo to round out the junk show.

Holden Bradford, is a fired up 10 year old with a ton of charisma. His parents have allowed him to have an amazing ability to look at adventure with truly open eyes. Race day he woke up early and hiked to the top of a peak just outside of Buena Vista to go paragliding. Right now he is probable tearing up Breckenridge ski resort, day dreaming of the spring when he gets to go kayaking again. Holden started rafting when he was only 18 months old, and has been kayaking for 5 years. He can truly read white water.

When I first approached Holden's father about the idea of Holden and I racing together I could see a little apprehension, but what came out of Josh's mouth was YES! The Plan was for Holden and I to race a two person kayak through the class 5 section of the Arkansas river. Race day I chatted with Holden at the put in. I asked him if he had ever paddled Pine Creek before, or been in a two person kayak, or seal launched? Holden responded a little hesitantly with "well no, but I have looked at pine creek a bunch, and I know we can do it!" Holden and I were about to experience a bunch of firsts together.

Holden and I charging through Pine Creek

The pine creek mass start has never started cleanly, and this year would be no different. The field took off in two slightly different waves, and at that point neither Holden or I was in our kayak. It took a couple seconds to hop in the kayak and slap the spray skirts on. We pushed off the embankment and skidded into the water instantly cranking out strokes trying to make up for our delayed start.

Holden paddled like a man on a mission. I couldn't help from smiling as our boat flew over some wave and crushed into others, plowing Holden deep into the water. Pine Creek went supper well and both of us were glowing from the cheers of the crowd. Coming through triple drop the stern hung up in a hydraulic and I looked up to see Holden a solid 4-5 feet out of the water. As I set the boat back down level Holden let out a solid laugh and we started to link strokes and pass one white water vessel after the next. I felt like I had an outboard engine strapped to the front of my kayak. We would come into a  hard corner,  and Holden would start cranking out paddle strokes whipping us around the corner.

Twenty minutes into the race we had passed every one but the two fastest raft teams, and three kayakers. Holden's father was in the raft directly in front of us, we paused for a strategic pass. "GO HOLDEN GO!" I hollered as we came screaming past his fathers raft. The last few minutes of the race were grueling and Holden let out a couple groans as we inched closer and closer to the National raft team.

As we came across the finish line Holden reminded me that he came in 5th and that I was definitely 6th. Post race we were bombarded with questions. " I felt a little proud watching Holden go from tentative to confident while explaining that there would be no reason for us to roll, and to watch out for next year when hopefully Chris can get a proper start to happen. When asked how we did, Holden smiled and let it be known that "We slayed it!"

So how old is old enough to paddle class 5? In the proper craft, with the proper guidance, Holden Bradford, and I would agree, you can definitely fire up Pine Creek when your 10.

Thank you Holden for letting me paddle along with you in such a fun event.

Another adventure brought to you by Holden Bradford, and Chris Baer.