White Salmon International Invasion!

I like to call myself a lucky paddler, living in the West Kootenays on the banks of the Slocan River, teaching kayaking, selling kayaks, hell breathing kayaks. We have winter playboating pretty much all season long at Trail wave and Brilliant, super awesome creeks running in the summer months and some of the biggest waves on the planet in early June. What more could I ask for? How about a trip to the creeking capital of North America? The White Salmon Washington/Hood River Oregon border is all about creeking anytime of year.

The plan was simple, after returning from a three month stay in Ecuador I was pretty stoked to keep my creek on and what better place. The crew consisted of Dito, Carl, Eskimal, and Abe. Dito was in Ecuador for most of November and December and also itching to get out after returning to Canada to a dismal snow season. Carl has been battling his way through nursing school for the past 4 years, nuff said. Abe and Eskimal would have been in Country just 4 days when we met with them in White Salmon and wanted to continue the paddling they were accustomed to in Ecuador.

Carl, Dito and myself left the Koots at 6am on a Wednesday morning. After hours of driving along the beautiful scenic landscape of another nation we were starting to get itchy for some paddling. To be honest, I did not see much of the scenery since I was shoved in the back of the cab on a 10inch X 10 inch “seat” clearly not made for my boney butt. I slept instead but was surely dreaming of my next boof stroke. I awoke in the sleepy town of Cashmere to find it was still early enough in the day for a paddle.


We headed to the Tumwater canyon of the Wenatchee River with no idea of the run, levels, or anything for that matter. After consulting the trusty Whitewater Rivers of Washington guidebook we found the put in and geared up. A side note on the guide book- most of the pictures in the book are of IK paddlers, you know “duckies” not sure how this effects the translation of grades but man those dudes run the gnar in glorified kmart coffins.

The Tumwater canyon was the perfect warm up for our upcoming creek fest. We enjoyed a beautiful afternoon with the sun shining and comfortable temperatures styling almost every drop. The run was sweet with some pretty tricky class IV drops (we ran it low) and a surprising amount of flatwater. To our surprise, we got the takeout to find a couple of paddlers gearing down. You guys are totally awesome dudes, super welcoming, ambassadors of the sport and the USA. After handing us some really good micro brews we chatted about the days adventure and we were on our way, Thanks again for the hospitality!

On route to White Salmon we took it easy taking in the sites satisfied by our unexpected paddle. We were in no rush to find our campsite under a clouded sky that was ready to rain. Believe it or not there are not many options for camping in February, who woulda thunk it. We decided to camp at the take out for the lower run on the White Salmon river just as Carl and I did two years earlier. Although the spot is actually a day rest area, we were given the go-a-head to camp by nearby neighbor Christy, thanks again for some more southern (compared to Canada) hospitality.





After a great sleep under the cover of light rain we met up with Eskimal and Abe in the morning to tackle the Farmlands section of the White Salmon. Eskimal had done the run previously and was our fearless leader for the day. The first drop of the day, “Sidewinder” was a reminder of the unforgiving rock formations typical of this classic river.

Those who ran the drop styled it well almost; Carl decided to practice his backdeck roll right after an undercut. The next major drop was Lava Falls, we didn’t know it at the time but we would have ample knowledge of the ins and outs of the run and what would happen if you swam behind the curtain. We got out to scout and a member of the crew decided right away he was going to probe it out. This was kinda strange since usually he was more tentative and apt to let others probe drops. Well, he was gearing up to go and we were all ready with throwbags at our side, turned out to be a hot move.



He had some good speed charging the drop but was a little off on what side to boof on. After soaring in the air off the 15-footer he landed with grace and style, unfortunately for him he seemed to celebrate a little too early and missed a key stroke to pull him away from the boil line. Getting tossed back into the curtain of the waterfall at breakneck speeds he found himself pinned vertically staring up into the pounding water eventually pinning him against his back deck.He managed to get his knees to pop the skirt thus ejecting him into the mercy of the waterfalls recycle. He spent the next seemingly long seconds tumbling in the recycle until eventually coming free.

We bagged him out and waited for his kayak to surface, well not actually his kayak. The story is he broke his Liquid Logic Jefe and conveniently for him the local kayak shop had an employee’s Jefe up in the rafters that we was able to borrow, the kicker is, that this is all without the knowledge of the employee. Oops! Anyway back to Lava Falls hewas a little shooken up but nothing too bad the kayak however was still pinned behind the curtain. Once and a while we could barely see the orange of the boat reflecting in the sunlight. Now we had to extract the kayak from the curtain; time to get out the ropes. This process did not turn out as easy we would have liked if you are familiar with the term “shit show” you know what I mean. We spent the next two hours throwing logs attached to ropes and even hucking rocks at it, surprise none of it worked. We were there long enough to have two other paddling groups observe our dilemma and start the spread of rumors of “the Canadian kayakers” and their unfortunate circumstances. It was getting close to nightfall and we were no further along with our extraction mission, we had to call it.

The next mission was to get out of the steep canyon wall and up to the nearby road, this process took about an hour. Then there were four, Abe decided to put back on first and mistakenly let his brand new AT paddle slip from his cold hands into the river before he could enter his boat. Then he kinda just stood there as if in awe that he might loose his precious new paddle. I took charge and got into my boat as soon as possible to retrieve his paddle. I raced down the unknown creek droppin ledges and loving the race mode solo creeking that only seems to happen when I am chasing a boat, person, paddle, whatever. Eventually I caught up to the paddle and waited alone in the eddy for some company. Eskimal came down to greet me about 15 secs later and we decided to wait a half hour for other team members to join us before racing daylight down the rest of the run.

That night we had some problem solving to do so we bought an ample amount of weak American beer and a bottle of Bulliet Bourbon, nice choice Eskimal! The next few hours were like a pentagon brain storming session without the odor of old spice and cigar smoke. We pretty much had it figured by about 1am. The plan was simple, first a early morning trip to Walmart was in order. The supply list was as follows- 1 compound bow and bow fishing kit with barbed expanding tip arrowheads. 1 spool of thin strong cord like spectra, a bottle of propane and torch, some stainless steel mesh, and some of those new torpedo sandwiches from Quiznos. The Plan- I was a pretty decent archer in high school, yeah I know what you are thinking but I assure you I was involved with some of the cool sports as well.

We were going to outfit the compound bow with a fishing kit which involves a spool mounted on the bow and a line attached to the non business end of the arrow. The tip of the arrow has barbs that expand once impact is made making it near impossible to remove the arrow. From shore we could barely see the kayak behind the curtain and we were going to shoot the kayak from shore lodging the arrow somewhere in the hull, then using the cord that was attached to the arrow and kayak we would pull the kayak out safely to shore. The next step involved patching the hole we made, since Eskimal and I gained some good boat welding experience in Ecuador we were amped to weld the hole and reinforce it with steel mesh on the inside of the kayak. I know, I know GENIUS right, I could hardly believe we thought of this while partying.




The morning arrived and Dito went to Walmart to retrieve supplies while the rest of us enjoyed a morning run on the Green Truss section of the White Salmon. We were on the water approaching Big Brother, a sweet 25 footer, when a red blur came up from behind us. Low and behold it was ultra pro kayaker Tao Berman, acquaintances were made and he offered to lead us down the remainder of the run, Tao style; fast and furiously. We opted for a sick line on the left that teams you up for a high-speed kicker near the base of the falls. Everyone styled the lines for the day and we were stoked to paddle with Tao.

When we returned from the run we met up with Dito who sadly informed us that you could only purchase hunting bows during hunting season, bummer lucky for us he did manage to bring some really tasty Quiznos subs, we ate in disbelief that our plan was finished before it started.
The next step was to do things the boring old fashioned way, we started heading to local paddle shop and rafting companies to post some lost boat signs. To our surprise everyone knew our dilemma already. We would start by introducing ourselves and as soon as we mentioned that some of us were from Canada they would say-“oh, you are the Canadians who lost the kayak behind Lava falls”. Two years prior Carl and I received the same kind of response- “which one of you guys got caught in the curtain at Big Brother” Geez this was a tight knit paddling community. The kayak has my store contact on it in the form of a sticker and on a breakdown paddle, Carl’s throw bag had his number on it so we were sure if the boat ever did come out there would be a way of contacting us.








The next day after another night of campfire partying we lined up to meet Tao at the take out of the lower Little White class V,V+ section at 3.9, super gnar gnar. We all geared up and stuck Tao in the back of the truck with Abe. The run that was about to happen will never leave my memory. Having Tao as a guide was the best possible situation for the given run, he showed us the lines and managed to trick us into running a 20 footer blind, which was a blast! There were a few close calls but no swims which is a good thing since there is nowhere else on earth I would rather not swim or let alone rescue someone out of.

I had a pretty close call when I missed a full eddy only to roll in a hole and recover with just enough time to squeeze under a log and run a tight little ledge, my only roll of the day. We were all super jazzed about the run and decided to hang out at the take out for a few hours drinking beers and trading sphincter-shrinking stories. Another paddling group showed up to the take out joined our circle, they had heard of the Canadian kayakers and our sitch. Thank the river gods, one of their crew needed a ride to Portland and they had a free Nomad with a loonie (Canadian Dollar Coin) sized hole in the stern. A match made in heaven we sent Dito on the mission after a half hour how to use a cell phone session since Dito haled from the Slocan Valley where such things are illegal.

It all came together, Dito got a damaged blue Nomad and the call came in that they retrieved Carl’s boat from below the waterfall, whoever found the boat found Carl’s contact info on his throwbag and phoned his cell. The next morning we started work on the Nomad using a spoon attached to a propane torch and some steel mesh from one of those things you put in your kitchen sink. At the same time Dito drove to meet the dudes from Montana that recovered the Jefe. I brought an Eskimo Salto for Eskimal thinking it would be humorous, after paddling it he didn’t think so and ended up paddling the Nomad after the repair. Dito returned with the Jefe and we were ready to rock the Green Truss section as a team for the first time since Farmlands. We started the run with 5 paddlers, the level was super juicy and by the end of the run there were only two of us and the recently repaired Nomad had a new 5 inch Charlie brown embarrassed smile hole in the bow.

The trip had come to an end. We were beat up, tired, and wet from days of camping in the rain and taking punishment on the river. Eskimal and Abe went West the Canadians went East. We paddled with Tao Berman on the sickest river we had done up to that point, we had a reputation good or bad after only being there for 5 days and we left with all the boats we came with plus one. Thanks to all who helped us out along the way, the USA paddlers ROCK special thanks to the lads at Wenatchee who were awesome to share some brews with us, the Montana boys for finding our kayak, the Portland dudes for giving us a kayak, The lads at the Rafting house who gave us some “medicine” for Dito’s injury, and Christie for allowing us crazy campers to hang around for a few days. All are welcome up to the koots anytime for some real beer and bushwack creeking. Except for Walmart you suck, you stomped on our dreams of buying a compound bow and shooting kayak, yeah we would have returned it afterwards but whatever.

See you on the river,

Chris Ryman