Sunday Afternoon

Next stop, Sunday late afternoon at ant beach.  The winds begin to die down as we approach Ant Beach, named last year after the troubles we had with bites and ants infiltrating our Dutch oven (secret ingredient to the peach cobbler last year).  Hoping it was a passing annoyance, we find the beachfront inviting with lots of areas for tents and our fire.  Kristi, Karl, Kim and I by now are desperately seeking juice bars so we leave Megan and Andrew to set up tents and make this spot our home for the night while we head from Mile 54 down to Willow Cove at Mile 52.  The winds have returned but the prospect of icy coconut or Caribbean bars propel us to the cove.  Willow Beach has been recently remodeled following some serious flooding that wiped the cove out a few years back and it is an oasis amidst the isolated river and desert.  As we approach the harbor we race to the store and down our bars, pack the ice and literally fly back to Ant Beach, hardly needing to expend any energy with the wind pushing us back to camp.  We have probably now paddled 10 miles today, took in too much sun, despite generous applications of sun screen, and we are delighted to find that Andrew and Megan have pitched our tents in private little vignettes.  They are not as happy as one would expect after their rest in the new camp, and they announce the camp must be renamed to “Ant/Sticker/Bee Camp”.  Oh my.   The ants surround us and the bees drown out the wind songs, as we get scratched by the sharp-thorned bushes wherever we walk.  So we pull out the cheese and crackers and sip on pineapple vodka and juices from hollowed out orange cups and reminisce on the beautiful day we’ve had.  We keep most of the food stuffs tied up to a tree that grows in 3 feet of water to keep the critters out, and wade out every time we need food.  I make up the cake batter for the upside down cake, realizing we have no butter or oil (recipe calls for a cup of oil or melted butter) so we improvise with oranges, orange pulp and some pineapple juice, and never missed the oils!  Everyone is chopping and organizing, eager for food.

 

Tonight is pizza night and I’ve been excited about this dinner for weeks.  The dough was made four days ago and has been slowly rising in the ice chest, waiting for this moment to shine.  Kim and Karl get the fire and coals heated to perfection.  The dough is spread as the oven rests on 6-8 coals, marinara is spread on top, smoking cheese, goat cheese and veggies top it off.  The first pizza is beautiful, but when the time comes to remove it, the topping slides off back into the oven and the crust comes out without it.  Kim scoops it back on – what can we serve this big goat cheese, veggie pizza on?  Kristi brings out her wooden oar – a perfect pizza paddle.  We are super cautious to not cut the surface but it makes a great serving platter.  For the next pizza we get spontaneous and decide to make calzones – we each prepare our own and they come out perfect and are actually much easier to handle – definitely this must be repeated next time.   It’s dark and the bugs have quieted and subsided for now.  We eat every drop under the bright evening skies and warm breezes, so content and tired. 

 

But not too tired to get the pineapple upside down cake baking in the Dutch oven (I know, all I talk about is the darned Dutch oven, but it really is the star of the trip). Kim used fresh pineapple slices and it really brought a fresh crispness.  It was the most mouth-watering cake ever tasted, served on camp tin ware as the moon showed up.  Andrew calls the dessert ANTicipation Pineapple Upside Down Cake (because we waited so long for it or because of the ants?).  So clever.  We have such a great group here, everyone helping and quick to laugh or tell a good story, and we are always intent on planning the next expedition. 

 

Everyone scurried to clean up camp, washing dishes and putting food away under the bright headlamps we wear.  There is plenty of cake for breakfast, too!  It seems a midnight paddle is in order.  I’m the only party pooper as my new tent glows in the bushes and my sleeping bag summons me.  Everyone else sneaks out for a paddle with nothing but the moonlight guiding the way, and I mean nothing but …  today’s paddle was rough, but the rugged cliffs and cloud formations were spellbinding, the workout so satisfying.  The camp is a bit spooky with only me occupying it now.  I lie on my back and reflect on the myriad of little adventures each day unfolds and the moonlight so bright I can journal without my lamp.  I fell asleep with glasses on and pen in my hand, awakening to the sounds of shrieks of laughter as they approach and that comforting sound of the paddle moving the water.  The waters were still for their outing tonight.  It was so warm out that Kristi threw caution to the wind and decided to sleep under the stars on her board.  Sometime in the wee hours she returned to the tent shivering uncontrollably as the midnight winds whipped up against the cool waters.  A tent might be just a false sense of security, but my new Mountain Hardwear Drifter 2 tent was tucked away in a protected patch of sticker bushes and was quite a haven for rest.  My body ached with every turn as the rocks embedded themselves in my skin – another note to self – time to purchase a pad for the sleeping bag!

 

Ahhh Sunday~

Sunday, June 12, 2011. 

Kim wakes us up with the announcement that “W” is on its way, and we might want to make some headway today.  Megan finds herself sore from her climbing ventures with Andrew yesterday.  I hope he brought his duct tape.  You never know!  Kim’s head is recovering from slamming into a rock while checking out tadpoles.  Kristi, how are you today?  We pack up camp in record time and take in a nice paddle.  After a few hours we find a shady promenade with a great view and nice stretch of sand and make up breakfast burritos – bulging with potatoes, sausages, eggs, cheese (well, not Megan’s and Kristi’s).  Andrew brews up some coffee and we take off for the day.  As we leave we hit patches of gusty winds, but there are so many beautiful sights to take in that the efforts of paddling go by unnoticed.  A break is in order so we stop at a beach and run up the sand mountain and fly back down, making huge dusty clouds.  There is a family of curious ducks circling around.  The baby is especially cute but wary of us.  More paddling through the meandering canyons until we find a narrow crevasse for a nap/sunscreen/water filtration break.  Kim and Karl hang back while the rest of us move forward.  The winds are screaming now and we have to get on our knees or sit to make progress, yet Kristi soldiers on still standing!  Finally the winds calm down and we find a lunch spot.  I just lay down only to find myself deep asleep, exhausted and content.  Such simplicity brings so much satisfaction.  We wonder if the winds worsened for Kim and Karl and we anxiously await them to rejoin us.  We are wedged in under a red rock overhang, a cool spot to eat our sandwiches, chips, and nuts.  I remind myself that dinner tonight will be spectacular.  I know it’s hard to imagine outdoing last night’s “High Water Tamale Pie”.  The winds are strong again and we paddle around the coves, taking pictures – the physical challenge is such a great reward and contrast to my sedentary job.  Kim and Karl and Andrew spotted a bald eagle today.  The canyons are chock full of nests and the sounds of baby birds echo, as they screech for their mothers’ return with nourishment.  Massive boulders the size of big rigs hang precariously from ledges.  Soon we come to Emerald Bay.  Andrew climbs high and dives in the water!  He is so fast my camera catches only a huge splash. 

 

Next stop, Sunday late afternoon at ant beach.  Now Ant/Bee/Sticker Beach. 

One Mile Day

One Mile Day- Saturday, June 11, 2011

Karl doesn’t sleep all night, and we are all up by 5:30.  Can we really carry 60 pounds of food on one board?  Karl will take this heaviest dry bag, as he has the sturdiest expedition board, his Hobie – and will we eat that much?  As we load onto the shuttle with another group that plans to kayak downstream, the winds start their day early.  They are warm and dry and they can’t put a damper on the excitement!  We notice Lake Mead is lower than ever, and the summer is just beginning.  I wonder when we’ll begin to take our limited water supply seriously.  The Colorado River already ends before it reaches the sea, a sad note to miscalculations, misuse and overuse of resources.

Our driver is very engaging, coming from the corporate world to a more meaningful existence, now an aspiring guide and shuttle driver.  We are lucky to have Kim and Karl as our guides, experienced through years of haunting these waterways.  Karl helps all the kayakers load their boats and gear, then he and Andrew help us aboard our boards, and the balancing act begins with tents, food, ice, dry bags all on our narrow vessels!  It takes me a while before I can stand again and soon we take off.  Last time we rushed by all the landmarks in the first leg of our trip, knowing how many miles there were to cover.  This time we stop within minutes of launch, jump in the ice cold water – it is so clear you can see every rock and lots of little fish.  We are an 1/8^th of a mile past the dam, and already the day-to-day stress factor begins to slip away.  Andrew is a mountain goat – he climbs the steep cliffs and dives in. Soon Megan is climbing and Karl, too.  We sit under the weeping hot springs cave, our cold suits steamed on the heated rocks.  The cave is dense with crystalline formations and ferns bursting through the seams of rocks.  It is hard to imagine we are just a ½ hour from Las Vegas and its sea of lights.  There are caves to explore everywhere and water oozing from the cliffs and warm springs meeting up with the brisk river.  We sit in warm pools and talk about our next meals.  Kristi’s high spirits are contagious and Kim has planned so well the execution is seamless.  She can’t stop grinning.  Megan seems happily surprised by the beauty.  As I said my goodbye on the phone this weekend, my daughter Camille reminded me she loves me and feels I’m in good hands with Karl on the adventure.  Little does she know I’m safe with just the gals of this trip, too – we proved that in the past few days of camping and loading and making crossings over rough passages.  Soon we find a rocky beach and make up pita and salami, pbj’s and melons, trail mix – the best.

It’s interesting to see how each of us gravitates towards our comfort zone – Andrew, a climber, immediately scales every steep rock formation and finds a place to jump, making me needlessly worried about “what-ifs” but also totally in awe of him, Karl looks at each stop as a spot for a workout or hike, Kristi and Megan look for spots to do SUP yoga moves, Kim and I swim.   Oh, and think and plan f-o-o-d.  You know what – something’s different and not quite right – we miss Nick.  Nick, what would you be up to here, and what unlikely mix of our rations would you be creating just about now?  And would you still be clothed?  You are missed.  It’s almost a game to see who spots the long-horned sheep first – they are such chameleons, entire families blending into the rocks.  The invasive species are a bit annoying today – these, far more annoying than the tamarisk and the carp (maybe not as bad as the quagga mussel) – the speed boats and jet skis that have made it up as far as the dam, revving their thunderous engines and scaring the sheep back into their hiding places.  The good news is that tomorrow and Monday the boats and jet skis are not allowed past Willow Beach, so it will be just us and a few random kayakers.  We languish under the hot spring waterfall we posed under last year – it seems so much smaller with the water level about four feet higher below Hoover Dam than it was last year.  There must be a high demand for electricity for so much water to have been released.

 We delight at pollywogs in a little pond and hope they make it through the summer.  They are so tiny.  Megan and Andrew climb deep up the canyon, and she returns with battle scars from a fall.  Late afternoon is upon us and we rest our tired, sun-soaked bodies, landing where the water meets the reedy shade, lapping gently over rock-filled Teva’s.  We decide to set camp here at Nevada Hot Springs.  The rusty sign nearby is a little alarming as we read about the flash flood warnings and danger from a rare amoeba that comes from the muddy hot springs – if they enter your nose, they can cause a rare and fatal braining eating syndrome.  Hmmm.  Karl builds an architectural wonder of a fire pit with built-in work table attached – Kim’s cooking commands this level of excellence.  I love how camping just creates jobs for everyone – you stay busy till bed with food prep, fire chores, tent duty and then tent relocation duty as the water level rises too fast for comfort.  We play a few hands of cards.  The Birneys mix up pineapple martinis to sip on while the guys get the fire blazing, I mix up the cornbread and Kim gets the onions and peppers sizzling, cooks the meat in the dutch oven, adds the enchilada sauce, then tops it with spoonfuls of cornbread and cheese.  It is cooked to perfection and we eat every drop.  Megan and Kristi make a salad and prepare veggies.  Kim next wows us with dutch oven donuts, with Megan shaking the hot treats in a bag of cinnamon and sugar.  Some we sneak chunks of chocolate in the centers.  We eat everything in sight.  Long, aimless days playing outdoors will do that to you. 

Earlier Kim and Karl had set up their tent in a private loft above our campsite, but as we ate, the water level rose quickly and silently and now they have to wade knee-deep in the rising water to climb up to their tent.  Andrew and Megan are satisfied with their resting spot, but Kristi and I have to move our tent to higher grounds.  It is a beautiful star-studded night and the moonlight dances on the river.  This campground wasn’t 100% private – there is a group of men a few hundred feet up the stream from us – they are polite and have been fishing and drinking all day and capped the night off with fireworks.  It is quiet by 9 and we read with our headlights, for about 4 minutes before sleep overtakes us.  And we’ve traveled about a mile from the dam today.  Hilarious.

More Friday Fun!

After a long nap, we are awakened one by one by boards bumping the opposite shores of our narrow inlet and into one another, and refresh ourselves by a dip in the cool waters.  It surprises us to realize later that we ate our lunch at just 11:00 a.m.!  Next, Wanda to the rescue once again.  We pass our sweet and trusty UV filter around to cleanse the river water we collected from the deepest parts of the crossing.  We don’t have too much further to paddle, the strong winds assisting our paddle towards Cottonwood and juice bars, with just the choppy wind waves to battle.   Kim catches up with Linda at the store on the happenings since our last visit in September while we swim with the carp and the ducks at Cottonwood.  They love Kim here at Cottonwood, after watching her grow up from her teen years working summers here.  It was a great paddling day with the gals, taking in about five miles, with a nice mix of challenges. 

Next stop, Hacienda Hotel, Boulder City, NV.  It’s hard to leave the beautiful waters but we are anxious to start part two of our vacation, with the addition of men!  The day is still young, but we have already covered so much ground from Nevada to Arizona and back again.  Andrew and Karl will join us tonight for the next dam part (Hoover Dam that is!).  They will fly in from their law enforcement courses in Sacramento, we’ll sleep over in the hotel so we can get up early to meet our ride down to the dam.  We needed special permits and a guide to drive us down past the locked gates of the dam and our pick-up time is 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning.  Here we’ll regroup and lighten our loads, because now we will be just taking what we can carry on our individual boards for the next few days and nights.  The hotel staff informs us there is no place to store our boards, so we decide to trek them up to our rooms.  We are sure that it’s easy to carry them up the four flights of stairs to our rooms.  Note to self – it is easy to carry only the 9’6’ SUP – while Betsy and Kim sing songs they make up about the trip in the 4^th floor halls, waiting for Kristi and Megan to bring the other boards upstairs, they have no clue that the girls are stuck with boards that don’t quite fit the dimensions of the stairwells!  Finally it seems like a long wait so we check on them, only to find they are exasperated at the difficulty and we leave two hidden poolside. 

Fresh showers feel great, the gear is laid out, reorganized, and repacked.  Betsy and Kristi try out a little gambling (and I mean little) and hit the bar to sample the worst lemon drop martini ever made (rocket fuel with a bruised lemon chunk bobbing around) while Kim and Megan pick up their men in Vegas.  The trip is almost cut short by a sheep that darts in front of their truck, but they swerve to miss it, avoiding disaster.   We are happy the rest of the vacation will be spent away from smoky bars and weird looks and out in seclusion and under the bright stars.

Day Two- Relaxation!

Friday, June 10, 2011 – both tents are awakened to the sounds of Ozzie blaring from a new neighbor’s car, talking loudly to himself and upsetting the morning calm. Well, we had wished for an early start to get packed up and on the water and he was the answer. We munched on Kim’s outrageous trail mix (honey sesame cashews, dried cherries and cranberries, candied walnuts, raw nuts, etc.) and fresh blueberries and strawberries, Kim’s muffins and we were fueled to go. Four women take down the tents in record time, pack up, unload the boards by 7:30 a.m. at the water’s edge. It is already hot on the water. Megan, Kim, Kristi and Betsy – boards loaded with supplies for a day adventure – take off from Cottonwood Cove. The jet skiers and boaters give us curious looks as we quietly glide by and head for the Arizona shore across the lower part of the Big Basin. The morning water is cool and glassy and we dip in many times. Nothing feels better than splashing in the clean clear waters and paddling through the shallow waters, where from the vantage point of the paddle board you can see all the rock formations and big bass, while we hope to see our friend the elusive and endangered razorback suckerfish once again.

Once across the channel, we found a good sandy beach, almost a little island, once called “Two Trees” Kim tells us, until the beavers ate the two trees. Beach sites are greatly limited now as the water level in Lake Mohave is really high, much higher than 9 months ago when we were here. We constantly remind ourselves how far we paddled then and how this is such a different journey, coming back to explore at a slower pace, with no expectations of miles to cover checked off each day. I’ll never forget our first Give a Dam ExPedition and the lessons and memories that accompanied it. Kristi spotted a red-winged blackbird and we followed its tumbling song into the marshes until it disappeared. What a beauty! As we played at this beach, read and snacked, Kim startles us with the news that she sees “sheep” in the distant main channel we have to cross to get back to the Nevada shores. Oh, yes, I remember – “sheep” means the dreaded whitecaps. As we move closer to the channel away from the protected cove, paddling becomes difficult as we are batted about by the strong gusts and wind waves. I’m realizing how smart Kim was to suggest we head this direction in the morning, so at least the winds will push us back to camp, once we get lined up properly. It takes three times as long to cross the channel, and we find a very narrow finger where we prepare lunch. At our board meeting lunch today we have chicken salad on fresh pita, brie cheese and cherry tomatoes wrapped in lettuce leaves, Mediterranean hummus and veggies. We lay on our boards, drifting gently in the secluded cove, with only the sounds of flapping wings and bickering blackbirds to ease us to sleep. Life is so good.

More Girl Power~

Thursday, June 9, 2011, we are wide awake well before the dawn.   Kim and I didn’t sleep well that night, and by 5:30, we are eating and making up pizza dough for the trip.  By 7:30 a.m. we have loaded Kim’s Jeep with 4 SUPs, all the food and clothing and tents and gear, pacing the floors for the Birney girls to show up (early workouts or surfing session most likely) so we can prepare our homey packs and take off.  Megan and Kristi are also in great spirits and we each fill our own foil packs with sausage, potatoes, zucchini, onions, corn, peppers, and a vegetarian version as well.  The packs are wrapped for the coals and more melons chopped, we load up, and begin the journey towards the Colorado River.  We stop in Barstow so Kim can get a tent from Patti, who was part of our Give A Dam team last September.  It is sad that she isn’t joining us on this trip, but hopefully next time she can, because she lends great knowledge of the habitat, camping experience and good camaraderie. 

Soon we are passing through miles of desert, only to stop when a bee visits Kim and disappears under her clothing, which seems a perfect time to stop and check boards, compare notes between the two cars, etc.  It’s an odd sight, four chicks, six paddle boards and enough food for a month, cruising through the desert.  The drive goes fast and a quick stop at Baker for the Mad Greek was inevitable.  Falafels and shakes downed, we rush towards Cottonwood Cove, nestled on the edge of Lake Mohave.  As we climb the last hill before the water is in sight we marvel that there is no “W” yet.  We don’t want to say the word for the mere mention of wind can whip up gusts which last all day.  We are excited to have a new member of the crew with us on this first part of the trip, the all-girl campout, Kristi’s sister Megan.  Megan seems satisfied when she sees the clear waters, glassy and calm, waiting for us dive in.  We jump in the refreshing waters at the cove, then hijack an abandoned 5-man luxury raft, get our first juice bars of the trip.  We decide to check out the campgrounds, find a good spot for later, and then it’s time to paddle. 

Nothing feels better than that first glide away from the docks, the quiet freedom of propelling with no engine, free to follow our whims.  The sun is about to set, so we decide to revisit our spot at the red rock cliffs, where last time we climbed the cliffs and dyed our t-shirts with the rich soils and dove off the high ledges.  Well, I didn’t actually dive off the cliffs but Kristi and Nick and Karl sure did.  I crawled down carefully.  There wasn’t a breeze to be felt and we made fast time across the channel to our secret spot, checking out the cliff walls filled with bird nests.  We could hear the inhabitants inside but spotted none.  We arrived at the last minutes of the sun’s setting, and jumped in the water and swam and visited, finally feeling like we were free of everyday worries.  The setting sun made the cliffs look afire.  We paddled back as dusk embraced us, starting to bond with girl power for the upcoming days.  The waters remained calm and clouds of little bugs followed our every move, luckily not biting us. 

Megan is the newbie and she settles seamlessly into the group, all enjoying good company and the endless skies beginning to alight with stars.  Starving, we load up the boards and find our campsite, which had been taken over by a bunch of boy scouts, so we locate another spot.  It’s pretty secluded, our spot by the cove, and Kristi starts a fire, tents are set up and food prep started.  Kristi and Megan have brought the critical supply of wine, we have located 2 bottle openers but have no cups.  Ah well, it’s just as good straight from the bottle.  I spotted a shooting star, had time to point it out, and we all watched it continue to shoot through the starry night under a bright half moon.  The homey packs heated to perfection, followed by s’mores, tall tales and many laughs, and we were in our tents.  I promise myself to camp much more in the near future.  Off the grid, with days highlighted by the simple pleasures like spotting an owl or a shooting star or getting the fire to finally start (go, Kristi!), really are hard to top.

Girl Power

Wednesday, June 8, 2011 begins as most days.  Up at 5, readying for an early morning bike ride from Pierpont to Patagonia where my work begins in the Legal Department.  Kim rises early, impatient for the day to move along, too, checking off her lists of supplies and meals, perusing the piles of camp gear, ice chests and dry bags littering her living room floor.  She takes off for the flower shop where she’ll design and create her beautiful arrangements, her thoughts today far from the manzanita branches, and buckets of roses, stargazer Lilies and cymbidiums that await her artistic touch.  Unable to concentrate on trademarks and agreements, I leave Patagonia early with the blessings of my superiors who are excited for my adventure to begin as well.  I need to get a co2 cartridges and learn how they work on a life jacket (ignorance was bliss on the last trip but lucky for me I never needed it!).  I meet up with Kim at Trader Joes where we are so excited we literally float through the aisles, picking up the last-minute items on th camp list as well as everything that tempted us along the way, remembering how hungry we got last time on our epic 63 mile paddle from Hoover Dam to Davis Dam in September 2010.  We meet up later at my house, where Kim and I chop veggies, fruits, make up chicken salad, trail mixes, etc., and then find time for a stuffed chicken (with goat cheese and sundried tomatoes) dinner with my daughter Camille and her friend Destiny.  The evening is filled with excitement and laughter, tall tales of paddling, El Paso and past adventures.