Costa Rica, Chirripo, Chirripo Pacifico, Upper Buena Vista, and the San Rafael

The view from Cerro Chirripo

Packing up my equipment in snowy Colorado I really had no idea what I was getting my self into again. I have been traveling internationally to kayak for the last three years yet every time I pack my bags for the next grand adventure I have that voice in the back of my head asking me are you ready, do you know what you are in for, what if, what if, what if. I stop, and think about it like a big drop, I could either sit here and think about the down sides or, I could go live life to the fullest. I checked my list twice, repacked everything, barely slept, and before I knew it I was on the plane heading to Costa Rica.

I knew there was some boating in Terrialba, so that was my first destination. Apon Arival to the busy poluted relative gross city of Terrialba I was rather disapointed.

The town of Terrialba

I hung out for a couple of days and used every contact I could think of to find a paddling partner. Todd Wells showes up, and we imediatly got into the quick chit chat of who we are and what we have been up to lately. Todd then invites me to go with him to the other side of the country and check out some water falls and the tallest peak in Costa Rica.

We hopped a bus and a day later we are in San Gerardo.

Waiting for the bus in San Jose

We had been referred to a real cool low key Hostel, Casa Mariposa. The next day we grab mechettes and start the bush whack, hike, and scout mission to check out some amazing waterfalls.

Chris Baer in full bush whack mode

A Mot Mot

Coati

Cerro Chirripo, is the hightest peak in Costa Rica and is basicly in the back yard of Casa Mariposa. So the mission started, we hiked 15 kilometers up to a freezing cold base camp building, and spent the night. The next morning the plan was to wake up early and summit early so we could watch the sun rise at the peak. At  4 a.m. I rolled over to hear the rain pounding on the roof. There was a few groins and grunts and there was a inaudible decision to sleep for a couple more hours, there wasn't going to be a view. I awoke again to the sound of rain, and I knew that I was still going to push to reach the summit. Two hours and five kilometers later I was at the peak with 30 mph winds and side ways rain, the view was.... grey.

A beautiful view on the way up Cerro Chirripo

Chris Baer at the peak , not exactly the best view

Todd, feeling a little beat down after the hike up.

Chris Baer, it is a long hike back down.

Back down at the hostel we took a day to recover, drank tea, ate copious amounts of food, and just lounged. That night I awake to hear Todd getting sick, I originally thought it was his body telling him to take it easy for another day. Then he stayed sick, day after day high temeratures and not eating. At this point I started having the thoughts of dengue fever, leptospirosis, and malaria. It was time to get Todd to a hospital. The morning Todd was to leave for the hospital he looked a little better. After a couple days in San Jose, I got a phone call saying he was back on his feet and doing well.

Enough of other stuff, lets talk boating. It took me way too long to get on the water this trip, but the wait payed off.

Beautiful rain forest canopy

Day 1
Upper Upper Chirripo Pacifico 500 fpm

Ferdinand, one of the few creek boaters in Costa Rica, called up one day, and said, lets go kayaking. The next thing I know he stopped by plucked me up and we put on the Upper Chirripo Pacifico, this run is STEEP, average gradient has to be close to 500 fpm. We put on the creek and it was obviously heading down the mountain. It was horizon line after horizon line with micro one boat eddys in between, I was immediatly happy with my winter choice of Costa Rica. Three kilometers and over a thousand feet lower in elevation we reached the confluence with the Blanco and took out on the right. My first kayak run in Costa Rica was filled to the brim with must make eddys, seives, undercuts, and more off angle boofs then I could imagine.

Ferdinand on one of the countless drops

Day 2,
Upper Buena Vista, 300 fpm
The Upper Buena Vista, the name immediatly made me think of my summer home in CO. This run had a slightly mellower pace, then the Chirripo, only 300 fpm. There was a couple distictly different sections to this five kilometer run. It starts with a handfull of 15 foot drops with nasty lead ins. Then mellows out into a section of four foot boofs and blind twisting and turning through micro canyons. The third section gets back into some bigger drops that are concealed behind gigantic boulders. The last portion is just junky rock piled high ontop of itself falling quickly down to the take out bridge.

San Rafael, 300-500 fpm
Our second run on day two was the San Rafael, another three kilometer run. The San Rafael had over 30 drops between 6 and 15 feet, absolulty amazing. By the time we reached the take out my arms felt like they where going to fall off, and my smile was actually making my face hurt.


Day 3
The Canan section of the Chirripo Pacifico, 300fpm no drop bigger the five feet. 
Ferdinand looked at the flow and said well it is a little high. What he meant to say was he had the previous high water descent, and now the water is six inches higher. So we put on, and it was pushy. A thousand cfs rushing down 300 fpm felt pretty out of control. We would peel out of a swirling eddy and go a half a mile down through huge holes and around blind corners in a few seconds. I was in survival mode, I was chasing Ferdinand down the run. Five kilometers down stream we stopped at a bridge, and I was thankful to be exiting the river.

Chirripo, Buena Vista, and San rafael from Chris Baer on Vimeo.

Three days four rivers and over a vertical mile of elevation loss. Not a bad way to start off a Costa Rica trip.

Chris Baer

Cheeseman Canyon

Cheeseman Canyon is a great run, I would highly suggest a good guide, and a small crew to attempt this amazing sieve laden playground.

CFS 400
Class 5
Gradient 240 fpm at best
Length 6 miles

Driving into the Cheeseman Canyon is a little erie, the forest burnt to the ground only a few years back and as far as you can see it is burnt trees, baby aspens, and a lot of bed rock. The team, Mike Hagadorn, Casey Tango, Riley Frakes, Jeff Flora, Tom Dohdray, and myself; many of us had never boated together and it was going to be a testing adventure.

Up to the put in; Mike had already contacted the caretaker of Sportsman's Paradise; (Bill 719-748-3212) we drove through the gate, and met Bill. We slowly followed him through the property and arriving at the far property line we handed Bill a six pack of cold beer. What had arguable been the nastiest river access in CO had just been taken care of with a six pack and a smile. Bill locked us out on the far side of the gate, there was only one way out of the canyon from here.

Bill locking us into the Canyon

Once on the water we paddled for a short bit and reached Club Dues, a pushy, bouncy, fun little rapid. Next up is Let's Make a deal, an awkward boof into a pushy pool that goes under a rock on the left.

Tom in Let's Make a Deal

Mike Hagadorn on Let's Make a Deal

Penis Buster Parfait is up next and we all decided to portage the top portion that looks like a manky pile of shit.

Mike In the hart of the Parfait

Tango looking for a way out

Back on water we got to the top of Slap Your Mama; as the group slowly went through a crack on the far right one of the paddlers got pinned. Wanting to help out I went down the center channel and tried to make the hairy ferry into the eddy. I didn't make the ferry and bumped into the rock backing up the eddy. Instantly I got shoved under the rock, it took a couple seconds of scrapping and wiggling and I managed to find my way out from under the rock. I rolled up just in time to bump into another rock, I was so lucky, this one was at least as undercut as the first rock. I spent another few seconds pulling myself out from under the second rock. This time when I rolled up I spotted a horizon line bigger then I wanted to run blind. I also saw out of my peripheral a tiny channel to the right, I went for it. My tiny right line was a 8 foot drop, as I spotted my landing zone, I realized it was a mess of rock and wood. I tried to pull my nose up and over the wood and in doing so I smashed my bow into a almost dry rock. My ankle folded over and my first thought was that I had just broken my ankle. As the pain rushed through my leg I stabilized my boat in a vertically pin, the water was now pounding onto my back. I was starting to get pretty nervous, the boat was quivering and I was concerned it may fold on my already messed up ankle. Riley amazingly quickly showed up and helped yank me out of my mostly submerged, vertically pinned boat. We then spent a while dragging my kayak from it's precarious position.

My ankle was allready swelling and I couldn't put any weight on it; after a quick conversation a decision was made.  The easiest way to get me out of the canyon was to get back in my kayak and paddle another four miles of class five rapids to the take out. I crawled back in my kayak and we headed down stream.

Mike at the top of Punji Sticks

Riley avoiding the undercuts and sieves in lower Punji Sticks

We scouted a couple other drops, I portaged a few more, and even got a couple piggy back rides around Underprivileged and Does Chaos. As we made it down to Slide for Life my ankle was getting really painful and I was extatic for a no scout run of a cool rapid.

Mike Sliding for Life

From there down the river keeps its character, sieves and undercuts everywhere. Another mile or so of seive laden flat water and we were at the take out. Casey's Jeep was three miles up the hill; Riley jogged up the hill and retrieved the Jeep. Riley returned with the Jeep and I was ecstatic not to have to crawl the three miles up the hill to the vehicles. As we loaded up the Jeep, I used a beer for pain control, and another on my ankle as a ice pack.

Riley giving Tango a hand going through a flat water sieve

Nothing like a cold one at the take out

p.s. The X-ray came back negative and I am already back on water. A huge thanks goes out to Casey Tango, Riley Frakes, and MIke Hagadorn for the piggy back rides, and dragging my kayak through this amazing canyon.

Chris Baer
WhereIsBaer.com

New Mexico

Well, there was basicly no season in Minnesota this year so what is a boy supposed to do? Swap some letters around, and instead of boating in MN I went to NM.

I have paddled a few other times in New Mexico but it had been more then a couple years. That old saying "you can only run a rapid blind once", well after a few years and a couple hundread other runs, I barely remembered a single line on any of the New Mexico rivers; and I was supper lucky to get Rolf Kelly, Tim Kelton, Atom Crawford, and Cameron Gillen to route me down some of the classics.


Atom Crawford enjoying a booty beer after an amazing swim


yet another interesting line at MJ Falls



In two weeks of paddling in New Mexico I had the opportunity to paddle the Race Course twice, the Upper Box twice, and the Embudo at 3.6 on the gauge close to ten times. There wasn't a single drop over five feet but it was still a heck of a lot of fun. The one thing MN and NM do have in common is the like to hand out beatings, I personally witnessed 4 swims,  more pinning then I knew possible and some great booty beer drinking next to the fire at Atom's place.

Here is a little video shot by Tim of the Embudo
After work Rio Embudo from tim_kelton on Vimeo.


p.s. Atom Crawford is the man, he might even let you hang out if you plant onions and bring him some whisky.

O yea drive slow and wear your seat belt in Dixon.

Rio Baker, Chile

Rio Baker, WOW!

So let's start this story from the beginning. I was asked by Marcus if I wanted to go to the Rio Baker, the only real information I knew about the Baker was that it was HUGE, so my obvious reaction was, "YES!" For a week I trained on the Futaleufu, trying to get mentally prepared for the biggest white water In the Southern Hemisphere. The morning we were to leave I find out that Marcus our trip leader isn't even going to go; with this information I became immediately apprehensive. The success of our adventure seemed... very vulnerable. Marcus was the only one in the group that had been to the Baker before; this mission was getting harder, and more entertaining by the moment.

The Spider Van  Anyone who knows the old CRC (Colorado Rivers and Creeks) book knows that any of the write-ups with spiders printed on the page are special. Some of those write-ups have almost unattainable put ins, some have ill placed wood, some have scary rapids, and some have horrible hike outs, but any time you see a spider you know it is going to be a true adventure. The van that we were about to climb into to go on a 8 day 1,400 kilometer drive on Chile's international highway (which is nothing but dirt, and a lane and a half wide) had a spider sticker, smack dab in the middle of the hood, I should have known better.


beware of spiders

The group slowly convened and we piled more and more equipment in, and on, the Spider Van. In total we had five kayakers, one girlfriend, and a driver. The first day of driving was constantly interrupted by unexpected stops: a flat tire, extra fuel, boats falling off . . .  We got our selves off to a slow and very entertaining start.


There was some pretty amazing scenery at some of those unexpected stops.


That first night we camped at a beautiful lake.

Back in the van, back on the road, we headed south for half a day and stopped in Coihaiqlue to stock up on food, beer, and a new used tire. Then we found out that the night before there was an earthquake 8.8 on the Richter scale; the second biggest earth quake ever recorded, and in perspective not very far away. Everyone in the group dispersed to get on the internet and tell family and friends that they were ok, and to check on our friends that were closer to the epicenter. If that wasn't enough entertainment the transmission started sounding really bad; it was definitely necessary to fix the problem but it was getting late, so we spent the night. The next morning we were off to the mechanics for a little fabrication and welding. The Spider Van got repaired again, and we were finally moving south again.


The view just outside of Tranquilo looking across Logo Carrera

The next stop was Tranquilo for food, and an amazing view across lake Carrera. We jumped back in the van only to realize yet another tire was loosing air rapidly, we slapped on the spare (that was also low on air), drove across the street to air up the tire and the police rolled up right behind us. It took a while to get the full story, but one month earlier our driver was pulled over by the police and given a stern warning for driving without the proper vehicle paper work (at this point in the trip, it made total sense that the van was not properly licensed.) Those same police were now right behind us and eyeing us hard. We waited and waited, the police took off and this was our chance to hightail it out of the little town. We got a couple hundred yards out of town and the Spider Van lost brake pressure. I looked under the vehicle and saw brake fluid running out of the brake caliper, here we go again. We pulled the tire off and I realized that the brake pad on the inside of the caliper, had fallen off and the brake pad on the outside was paper thin. Back into town to find a mechanic, and we found a great one. The mechanic actually retrofitted an existing pad to fit on the Spider Van. This repair cost us another night, and we didn't get going again until the next midday, and actually made some good distance. Our next stop was in Bertrand for the last minute supplies. Bertrand is the city at the top of the Baker, there the water drains from the lake and heads into the canyon. We drove along the twisting flat water of the canyon for a while; then we were there, 700 plus kilometers, four days, countless unexpected stops, and we were finally at the first rapid.

The water is a beautiful green-blue, with tons of sediment from the glaciers that feed it. The first rapid is aww inspiring. The preferred line is down the left hand side, and then you can choose a small slide, or a stout 10 foot boof. What you don't want is the middle of this rapid, the middle contains a 20 plus foot tall wave-hole that drops directly into a 30 foot pour-over. We hiked back up to the Spider Van and continued the scouting. The Scouts were difficult, we hiked thru thick brush and down steep embankments. With all of this hiking our best vantage was still a few hundred feet above the water level. We looked at the second rapid, it was half a mile long, but had simple directions. (Right of that 30 foot deep hole, back to the left of that 100 foot wide lateral, then back to the middle thru that stuff that looks like the ocean in a hurricane.) All I could think was those waves are going to be a lot bigger when I am sitting in the middle of them. As we hiked in to scout the third big rapid, I noticed the group was really sprawling out, some people weren't even scouting, my trust in the group was dwindling fast. We got back in the van and discussed what we had seen. There was some talk of putting on that night, it was 5:30 pm and there was lots of light left, but I had no faith that if something went wrong that it could be cleaned up before night fall. I was quickly out voted... Zach agreed with my logic and was also very skeptical of the groups ability of good judgment. The two of us decided it would be a safer option to stay off the water. We watched the other three paddlers bomb off the first drop, the Baker quickly showed it's power; all three of the paddlers had wildly different lines, the water was pushy. As they came down thru the other two big rapids, there tiny kayaks finally put the true size of the Baker in perspective. We cruised back to camp and had a good dinner, Zach and I were happy with our decision on not paddling, but very excited for the next day.

I awoke calm and well rested, no scary big water dreams, thank god. It didn't take long for Zach and I to get fired up. We quickly ate a little food downed some water and jumped back in the Spider Van to go back up to the put in. I got to the edge of the water spotted my "land (water) marks", got in my boat and had a wonderful line on the first rapid. The rest of the boys slowly came down, with a myriad of lines. Zach ended up getting pushed way too far towards the middle and tucked under what might be the nastiest hole I have ever seen, Jacob did almost the same thing. I think the friendliness of the hole inspired Aniol to try the right line. Aniol slipped thru the upper waves and then got violently surfed in the giant hole at the bottom, a quick beating, a little down time, and he flushed.


Jacob a bit too far right

Fun Tickets Think carnival amusement ride coupons, a metaphor I use when running and or messing up big rapids. You earn fun tickets all the time, you can borrow them, lend them, and steel them, but all big rapids take at least a couple. I spent 4 or 5 running the first rapid clean, the rest of the boys were burning thru fun tickets at an alarming rate.

The group was definitely split on how to run the rapids; the group that ran it the night before wanted to scout again. Zach and I on the other hand were confident in our lines, and believed the best way to run these huge rapids was tight and fast. I looked at Zach smiled and paddled right into the second rapid. It was huge, I got to the right side of the river and looked for my first key feature the 50 foot wide 30 foot deep hole that took up the entire left side of the river. I flew down the tongue and past by the huge hole, I knew it was just getting started. The boily mess after the hole lasted 300 yards, and was full on. There was random rogue waves, and the boils off the walls were super pushy. I fought hard to get back to the left and avoid the 100 foot wide lateral that was coming off the right wall, as soon as I cleared the lateral it was back to the middle to start the brawl.


Aniol catching air off the corner of the huge lateral

There was huge laterals, and rogue waves everywhere, I got picked up on a random wave and thrown to the left. I cranked out a few more strokes, and was hit by another random wave-hole, I was rolled, and rolled back up. I did a quick look around and got rolled again. This time I snapped up super quick, looked over my shoulder and saw a huge hole. Wham bam swirl, swirl, roll up, clear the eyes and straight into another hole, and this one was violent. The water grabbed at my paddle it felt like it was going to get torn from my finger tips, and this is when I heard thunder. Ca-boom! it was loud underwater, the noise came from my right hand and I felt the paddle give way. Shit, I felt around and figured out which of the pieces of my paddle was longer, let go of the smaller end, swapped the blade to my stronger hand, re-indexed what was left of the paddle, and rolled up. There is no way I am going to be able to get anywhere with half a paddle, and the river was not thru with me yet. Again and again the waves crushed me, I rolled two more time and the O2 sensor in my head was sending the I need air NOW alarm. At this point the river does what it does best, humbles. I got tossed into another nasty hole and that was that, time for air. I stood up in my boat, rotated around, and instantly grabbed the stern grab handle, and breathed in the much needed oxygen I was looking for. I was now swimming in the biggest rapid of my life, easily one of the top 10 worst places to swim ever; flush drowning seemed very real. I held on tight to the stern of my boat, and kicked my feet ferociously, trying to keep my head near the surface of the river. The water was too strong. I was getting tossed around, and all I could really do was time breaths as not to breath in water. Then the river sucked me down, deep down in an eddy line, and all I could think was, at least this means I am close to an eddy. Resurfacing I cleared my eyes and saw the group moving towards me. They were a hundred yards away or more and I was feeling really tired already. I finally grabbed the stern of another paddlers boat, and ditched my boat, I knew it wasn't over yet. Another half mile of nasty eddy lines, a small class 4 rapid, and we were finally close to shore. I ditched the stern of the boat that was trying to pull me in, and swam the last 50 feet to shore. My throat burned my whole body was acidic, I spent a whole roll of fun tickets, but I was alive.

I had been brought to the right side of the river, the side away from the road. My boat camera and the small part of my paddle that had been rescued up stream of me had all been taken to the river's left side, the side of the river next to the road. The group was pretty unorganized people didn't know where others were. I spotted Zach upstream and immediately gave him the pat on the head letting him know that I was ok. It took a while but the guys were able to ferry my boat and a break down paddle over to me. I hopped back in my boat took a couple strokes, cleared my head, smiled at Zach, and headed straight into the third rapid. Every one has there own way of dealing with stress, mine is a calm breath and straight back in to the fire.

The third rapid is no slouch. The river makes a hard left hand turn and there is a eddy on the right that looks just shy of impossible to paddle out of, to top it off there is a huge wave-hole at the top. The right hand side of the wave-hole is a wave and the left is a nasty hole. I was right on the tail of Zach and I saw him drop down the tongue. Then I was down in the trench and he was 30 feet above me cresting the gigantic wave. The swim obviously hadn't scared me too much, as I aimed for the absolute tallest part of the wave. The wave surged while I was on it and as I reached the top I was tossed end over end right off the peak.


Aniol trying to take the corner of a huge feature


Aniol looking small in one of the pressure waves

I snapped a roll, braced against the next giant pressure hole and then slipped thru the exit slot on the left into the calm water. All of the paddlers regrouped and we paddled down thru the huge whirlpools and crazy eddy lines. There was one more good sized rapid before our camp-take out. The communication was spectacularly bad for this rapid and Zach ended up having an unnecessary, entertaining line. We paddled through another mile of whirlpools and got to camp.

The groups original plan was to continue down stream through the third gorge. Zach confronted me and said that he was rather disappointed in the teams ability to do anything safely and I couldn't agree more. Zach and I got out right then and there and called the Baker done. We had traveled 700 kilometers in a broken down dusty van and paddled four rapids, we were already out of fun tickets.

The other part of the group ate food and put back on; we met up with them down stream, and heard stories that confirmed our lack of trust. Back in the Spider Van for the long, dusty, bumpy ride back to Futaleufu.

Lessons learned or at least reaffirmed,
1 Watch out for spiders, BE AFRAID!
2 Bring an extra roll of fun tickets.
3 Don't put on too late.
4 Make sure your team is competent.

A huge shout out to Zachariah Campbell, he is a great paddling and traveling partner.


Four months of traveling in South America has been amazing, and exhausting. I am looking forward to a little down time as I travel back to the states.
Chris Baer

Futaleufu, Chile

Futaleufu,

The infamous Rio Futaleufu, turned out to be one fun wave train. There are a lot of sections to the river, allowing for some spicy lines if you are looking for them. Overall, I have to say it was just good clean fun, after months of creak boating it did feel good to be able to sink my whole paddle blade in the water. That being said, big volume river running has never really been my thing. It is fun and all but it is hard for me to see the challenge when I can be 10 feet off my line and still be ok.
What I did know was that I was heading to the Baker in a few days and it was time to do some training on this big water.


Gael charging the lateral


Look close, or double click Gael is in the depths of Thrown room


Gael on the huge tongue into TNT


Gael at the confluence


I went for a bike ride one day and was greeted with this amazing moon shot


did I mention the views are amazing


These clouds, were soo colorful and seemed to play along with me.

Well that is all for Futa, this place really is pretty.
Stay tuned in the Baker write up is coming soon and it is BIG.

Chris Baer

Chaiten, dolphins, and ocean surf

Three months in South America and I decided to stop by the Futaleufu. As soon as I reached Futa I was introduced to some soon to be friends. Marcos was the one with the game plan, he showed off pictures of dolphins, sea lions, surf waves, and a creek all to be accessed by a friend that had a sea worthy boat. So without hesitation we celebrated a friends birthday and proceeded to wake up early and a little hazy. We piled into a pickup and a van both WAY over loaded, and started the trip to Chaiten.


Loading up the rigs

Chaiten is a ghost town now days, there was a pretty big volcanic explosion that covered the town in a couple feet of ash just last year.


The Volcano looked ominous

We made are way through Chaiten, and to the boat, it looked a little smaller then I remembered it in the photos. We all piled our gear in and on the boat and headed south. We traveled for an hour or so and arrived in rainy conditions to the boat owners homestead.


Cruising back to the homestead

The homestead was pretty built up, two different houses, some out buildings and a handful of beached boats. The owner offered up his second house and we happily excepted. There was food, there was drinks, and there where a ton of stories going through the very eclectic group. The next morning we woke to parting clouds, we piled back on the boat and headed even further south. During the boat ride we saw dolphins, penguins, and sea lions, the group was stirring with excitement.


we actually surfed with these guys, they loved showing off


The Sea Lions seemed a little annoyed with us and made a lot of noise

We finally set anchor and looked in on a ugly looking ocean break flowing directly into a rock jumble. The raft got inflated, kayakers got suited up and seal launched off the boat into the ocean, and slowly almost every one migrated to the beach. There were a few of us that looked at the break and went straight in. The break was definitely a little sketchy, and the biggest waves headed toward a huge rock, sometimes you surfed right and sometimes you surfed left, but the rock was always in play. The waves were actually really good and there was more then a few times that 4 or 5 of us caught the same wave laughing, spinning , and blunting towards the rock. While paddling out one time I had three dolphins pass me, turn around and surf the wave right in front of me back toward the beach. The group was stoked the stores were coming true, and we just got done surfing good ocean waves with dolphins. We packed up and paddled out to the boat and made our way back to our borrowed house for the second night. Again we ate, and planned for the creek mission the next day.


The View from above the homestead

We awoke, repacked for the creek mission jumped in the boat and headed into a cove. Deep in the cove was the outlet of the river and the boat headed straight up the fjord. We made our way further and further up the fjord, the water depth was getting shallow, and there were submerged trees everywhere, I couldn't believe how far up the fjord we had made it. We finally set anchor, suited up, and headed to the ruff fishing trial that headed up the creek. We hiked, and hiked, and hiked, and there was no end in sight. We crossed sketchy bridges, crossed creeks, attained up the main channel, and bush whacked our way up the creek.


One of the sketchier creek crossings, that log was slick as shit

Five hours into the hike the group's moral was supper low, and the decision was made that we would not make it to the "class 5 section". We turned tail and cruised down the creek in under 45 minutes splashing through three great class 4 rapids. Back to the house for some more food, and I collapsed from exhaustion the lack of good food and the long hike had taken there toll. I woke up the next morning feeling well rested and we made our way back to Chaiten. This is where the story turns to party, we all reached "civilization" the barren ghost town of Chaiten. We bought snacks and beer and prepared to drive back to Futa, when Marcos's dad invited us in for an asado. We ate, drank heavily, went to the beach, drank more, and then Mark Anthony came on the TV. The next thing you know there is singing dancing and a lot more drinking. We woke up the next morning haggard, and finally got in the van, only four hours of bumpy roads to get us back to Futa.
There are some trips that stand out because of the white water, some about the destination, and some about the friends. This trip was all about surfing in the ocean with dolphins.


The view from the beach

Now I am back in Futa training for the Baker, one of the biggest whitewater rivers anywhere
Chris Baer life is good, and even better when you get to surf with dolphins