Issue link: http://digital.canadawide.com/i/118157
"BOOF" WITH CARE Advanced paddlers learn the art of running ledges and waterfalls — and the related skill of landing flat, aka boofing. channel or via boulders and logs. The "feel" of a particular rapid, on the other hand – the unique rodeo ride that ensues when a kayaker plunges into it – depends on how extreme these elements are and how many (or few) are involved. I know some of this from prior research, but Hollingsworth's strategy is to not divulge too much too soon. "I tend to avoid telling people even the names of certain rapids, such as McDonald's through the chunky whitewater. Shortly after, an assistant guide admits why the next big-ticket rapid is called McDonald's: "Because it's been flipping kayakers like hamburgers for 20 years." Fortunately, we're given "beta" on how to run it. (In the patois of climbers, kayakers and other extreme or semi-extreme sporties, beta means the knowledge someone shares after having already scraped their knuckles or dumped their boat to get it. Steer to the right here, look out for the boulder there.) Hollingsworth's beta is that McDonald's is a rushing, narrowed channel to the right of an keep up speed. I hit the first wave at a good clip, but immediately roll on the other side of it. The next two stairs I ride upside down, and underwater, before wet-exiting in the pool below. For an abject failure, the experience is wildly exhilarating. I pop up, triumphant – I am, after all, downstream – and already keen for another crack at it. Hollingsworth eggs me on with a bit of inspiration. "Half of whitewater kayaking is surrender and faith. It's an educated faith, faith from experience that it's all going to work out all right, faith that the river will bring you through. "Though maybe," she adds with a bright smile, "not without a few scrapes." Vancouver writer Tyee Bridge loves Hood River – and is always glad to be wet behind the ears. and Ishy Pishy," she says. "Knowing their names seems to make them more significant, and students get nervous." I'm nervous anyway. The moment we hit the first wave train, I'm in a state of controlled panic, the kind that comes when trying to steer out of a fishtail on an icy road. Convinced the next standing wave – or the one after that or one after that – is going to suck me down, for the first 20 minutes I clench my jaw hard enough to give myself a headache. It's a common reaction, as several of my fellow paddlers confess later at lunch. But eventually, after an hour or so of splashy dolphin-riding, we start to relax and enjoy the rodeo. Rapids on a wide section of Class II river usually won't dunk or flip a kayaker. Instead, where I flip, repeatedly, is in the calm flatwater sections while "eddying out" – crossing a reverse-current eddy line to take a rest with the group. This is a basic skill that requires hitting the eddy at a diagonal, then carving a 180-degree turn to face back upriver. But something about this simple manoeuvre escapes me. Still, I make it through Nine-Mile without dumping by following Hollingsworth's example as she angles cross-current 34 W E S T W O R L D p26-37_Summer101.indd 34 >> island, with a gnarly challenge for beginners: a wave – the flipper – that piles up against a boulder on the right bank. Our job is to stick to the middle and angle left. Another guide, Heather, offers the three-word mantra she uses in big rapids: "Power, relax, breathe." Thus encouraged, and buoyed by my success on Nine-Mile, I'm suddenly confident I can cheat my fast-food fate. I repeat the mantra right up until I enter the rapid – power, relax, breathe, powerrelax-breathe – then completely forget it. Five of us end up hamburger-pattied by McDonald's, and I'm one of them. The day climaxes with Ishy Pishy, a Class III rapid with obscure etymological origins – offered for extra credit and a chance to try a bigger, splashier stretch of whitewater. Ishy is a "super-compressed" rapid: deep water that stacks into three successive, tiered waves, a mini staircase diagonal to the flow of current. Hitting these waves will slow us, and when a kayak moves slower than the current, water gathers on the stern, then flips it. Successfully crossing Ishy Pishy requires doing that centaur thing with vigour – relaxed below but punching hard above with paddle strokes to Prep Yoga. Bellydancing. Tai chi. Whatever gets you stretched out and in touch with your midsection. • Inspiration "Ladies of the Little White" YouTube video, of Susan Hollingsworth and friends cavorting on one of North America's most celebrated Class V whitewater routes: tinyurl. com/ladiesofwhite • Gear A qualified instructor (don't hit the water without one); for lake practise, rent a "river-runner"-type kayak, a design midway between long, buoyant "creek boats" and duck-billed "play boats." • Cost Wet Planet's three-day absolute beginner course is a steal at $315. • Sign-up Wet Planet Whitewater. 877-390-9445; wetplanetwhitewater.com Y Member savings and benefits for B.C. travel: bcaa.com/bc WHITEWATER 101 ANY CLASS II RIVER has areas that welcome newbie paddlers of all ages – but the right guide is needed for launching safely. Here: Pacific Northwest whitewater schools with the right (wet) stuff: • Purple Hayes School of Kayaking Chilliwack, B.C. 604-858-2888; purplehayes.bc.ca • Liquid Lifestyles Clearwater, B.C. 877-674-3307; liquidlifestyles.ca • Columbia Gorge Kayak School Hood River, Oregon 541-806-4190; gorgekayaker.com • Sundance Kayak School Grants Pass, Oregon 541-386-1725; sundanceriver.com • Wet Planet Whitewater Wet Planet also leads treks to far-flung rivers in Peru, Costa Rica, et al. 877-3909445; wetplanetwhitewater.com SUMMER 2012 4/19/12 7:17:48 AM