Great day on the river!

What better day to spend a rainy spring day than on the river? The great thing about kayaking is that you're wet anyway, so it doesn't really matter if it's raining.

Scott and I slept in, then went to yoga. Then he had to go to work for a few hours, so I made plans to meet one of our paddling buddies out at the Clackamas. The river was up from all the rain this week and since my boating has been more off than on the last couple years due to one injury or another, I opted for the Class II run (borderline Class III at this water level) instead of the more challenging Class III upstream.

The water was pushy and the waves big (well, maybe not BIG big, but pretty big to my low-water paddling self), but less technical than usual since most of the rocks were under water. The run took just over 30 minutes and left me wanting more; on the drive back to Trevor's car, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to do the upper run?"

By now, the sun was out and confidence was high, so I agreed to go for it. I tried to cheat the first rapid, at Fish Creek, too far to the right and the edge of my boat caught the eddy line on the turn at the bottom and flipped me; I set up to roll and felt like my boat was turned the wrong way to the current. I decided to try it anyway. I nearly came up, but too eager for air, reached up with my head, dropping me back into the 37-degree water. I set up again and waited a few seconds to exit the turbulent water; tried again and made it. My head was splitting from the icy dunking and I caught my breath in an eddy before continuing downstream.

Just around the corner was Armstrong Bridge, a rapid that looks innocuous enough, but probably gives me more trouble than anything else on this river, including the Class IV rapid at Carter Bridge. I set up to enter just left of center and drift into the main current as it pours over a lip and into a hole that often knocks me over. Today the hole was pretty flushed out and Trevor and I both floated right through into some swirly water at the end.

I managed to go down most of Big Eddy up on my right edge; I stayed upright by dropping my head to the right and working my paddle back and forth until my left edge dropped back down to the surface.

We finally reached Toilet Bowl--a long, rocky drop with three giant waves at the bottom. Today, most of the rocks were covered, eliminating usual picking your way down. I hugged the edge of two big holes on the left side, hoping to make my way farther left to avoid the biggest waves at the bottom. They came crashing in from different angles, big, frothing piles of turbulent foam towering over head. But the current tugged my boat to the right, depositing me directly into the meat of the rapid. Nothing to do but dig in, paddle hard, and hope for the best. The first wave hit me hard in the face, blinding me and taking my breath away with the cold. I blindly plunged my paddle into the water and braced for the next wave.

We were a little high on adrenaline as we loaded boats in the truck. I celebrated a great river run with an oatmeal stout back at home.

It was no surprise that the best part of my day occurred while riding my bike. Friday morning, I finally got around to putting slicks on my 'cross bike so I can use it as a road bike during the non-'cross season.

The tire changing is fodder for a blog post of its own--let's just suffice it to say that after 45 minutes, a blister and a punctured tube, I threw tires and wheels in the truck and drove down to my LBS and forked over cold hard cash for someone else to do the dirty work for me.

Finally, chores done, dog walked, I suited up for a nice long ride on a sunny February day. By the time I rolled down the driveway, the clear blue had given way to a high but solid layer of cloud. Oh, well. At least it wasn't raining.

Fighting the wind all the way down Marine Drive toward Troutdale, I argued with myself about how far I would go. I planned to ride to Crown Point, 25 miles away, but I haven't done much riding the past few months and the wind was taking its toll. I would still get a good workout if I turned back early.

Pushing on, I left Troutdale and crossed the Sandy River, then turned onto the Scenic Gorge Highway, enjoying a reprieve from the wind. A few miles later, I came upon a large man in sweats pushing an old Trek road bike with a flat front tire. I stopped to offer help--I had tools, patch kit and spare tube. He declined the offer, saying he was almost home, but thanked me anyway. We talked for a few minutes.

Over the course of the past year, this guy has lost over 100 pounds. He rides his bike daily from Troutdale to Lloyd Center and back, an hour 45 each way, he told me. He started this on a bet with a friend and feels so good he could never go back. Oh yeah, he quit smoking, too. He was quite passionate about riding and wishing he knew other people who shared his enthusiasm.

It was the kind of encounter that puts a smile on your face. I was inspired to push on to Crown Point after all.