There is a pretty little environmental campground on the side of the russian river about five kilometers in from the ocean. I have wanted to try this campground out for a long time, so I volunteered to initiate a kayak camping trip here for BASK. It was listed in the bask newsletter in April and attracted nine people who showed up at Duncans Mills on Saturday morning. I had made complicated plans for this trip, and some of the paddlers told me afterwards that they were surprised that everything worked out. The only thing I actually promised everyone was that they would see at least one great blue heron in these two days or they would "get their trip back".
An "environmental campground" means you have to park and walk into the campground, but we would be kayaking so this was not a problem to us. These campgrounds typically do not have water and you must bring your own. The state will no longer take reservations for these campgrounds, and you have to take your chances with first-come-first-served. To make sure we got our camping spaces, Don Flemming volunteered to come out Friday and hold our campsite down. I drove out with him Friday afternoon and carried a load of firewood and my own tent out. When we arrived there were already two cars in the parking lot. I asked a guy unloading one of these cars which campground he was taking. In a disappointed voice he said: "Someone already took the first one, so we had to take the second one". He was disappointed that he had to walk 50 meters instead of 25 meters from the lot! These were the two least attractive campsites as far as I could tell: too close to the dusty noisy parking lot, too far from the river, on the edge of a large hot meadow instead of looking over the cool rippling river. We gleefully trekked a whole 200 meters to take the best two campsites. These are both on the river with a large flat space between them to set up additional tents. The last space is in a little grove of trees shaded from most of the hot sun of the day. Don set up camp there and I came back in the evening and had dinner with him. I cooked my "vegetables in abalone sauce" at home and brought it with me. He made instant rice on his camp stove to put under my entree.
I had everyone meet me at the Gold Coast Coffee Company in duncans mills at 10 am on Saturday. By 10:30 everyone was there and we started shuttling cars. One couple rented a kayak from Gold Coast Kayaks (in the same building as the coffee shop) and launched right there under the moscow bridge. Everyone else followed me to my brother Ralph's house on the other side of the river. We unloaded all the kayaks and then all the cars drove away. We dropped two cars off in Jenner and two cars in the parking lot of the campground. On the way we saw a great blue heron. The people in the car (some remained to pack their kayaks) have seen the requisite heron already! Then I drove everyone back to their kayaks. The hard part was over and now we could relax and get in the water. Of course there was still a lot of camping gear to put in the boats before we were all launched by noon.
One of the reasons I planned this trip was to paddle past the osprey nursery a kilometer or so south of my brother Ralph's house. Marty and I have paddled past here when three pairs of ospreys were raising chicks. The parents flying in and out with fish and the young squawking for food put on quite a show. Ralph says that he has paddled past this spot when there were three layers of birds nesting at once: ospreys in the tops of the trees, great blue herons in the middle branches, and cormorants in the lower branches. Unfortunately, the show was not as good this time. As we paddled past the nursery we saw three nests, but only saw one pair of ospreys flying in and out of one. In the course of two days we did see quite a few ospreys flying over the river and some of us saw them diving into the water of the river or the ocean.
Just a few kilometers south of my brother's house we found the campground. Everyone landed and set up their tent. We still had half the day to go but everyone went their separate ways: Some took a nap in the warm afternoon and paddled down the river later. Some paddled down the river to Jenner, but as far as I heard almost everyone stopped at the boat ramp for a beer or a snack and never made it to the ocean beach. I had suggested landing on the inside of the spit and walking over to the ocean. I also suggested paddling around Penny Island or landing on it to explore the ruins of the old ranch. Three of us paddled all the way to the end of the river (closed off) over the spit (away from the seals) and off into the ocean (after donning appropriate protective gear).
As the local guide, I took the lead while Don and Roger followed. We first went to the arch near Goat Rock Beach. It occurred to me that I have been through this arch dozens of times, but always by myself. Don said something like "never done this before" and I thought he meant never been through this particular arch. But I found out later he meant that he had never paddled through any cave or arch in his kayak. Until now! He paddled back through it a few times to pose for a photograph. We all paddled through and around the arch several times and all the way around the rock as well. Then I lead the group on a long paddle to Mile Rocks to paddle between the rocks with the waves. I had a strong desire to take these guys to all my favorite local places while they were here and the ocean was calm (five foot swells reported). So we then did a long paddle to the end of Jenner Beach where there is a a rock full of caves. I have been through one of these caves, but on this calm day with friends to share them with I managed to paddle through every single one of them. Including one narrow crack that I had never noticed before. Roger is a very experienced kayaker and like me had no problems going through these caves. Even Don went through a few of them on this, his first day of kayak caving.
From this point on I stopped apologizing for the long distances we were traveling because we went close to shore and into most of the little coves between Jenner and Russian Gulch Beach. One rock in this area has a long narrow cave that I have never seen calm enough to go through. It looked calm today. I remembered my lesson from Van Damme beach and looked out to sea before entering the cave. No large sets coming, so in I went. The passage was uneventful, but as I cam out the end I saw a large set of waves coming. I climbed over the first one just before it broke into a row of submerged rocks in front of the exit to the cave. Looking over my shoulder I hoped that Don was not following me through the cave as the wave crashed into the opening, filled it with white water, and turned to blast through. I had to paddle around the rocks near the entrance so it took a few seconds before I could see back through the cave. Both Don and Roger were still safe on the other side and both looked worried about me. I waved OK to them through the cave. Both of them skipped the pleasure of paddling through this cave, and Roger predicted that this is going to be the only time I ever go through it.
We agreed to turn back two coves before we get to Russian Gulch Beach. But as we started back we ran along the north edge of this cove and found one of my favorite places: a crack in a rock that leads to a little sandy beach and another crack that leads back out to sea. Roger enjoys this place as much as I do. He says that this sort of place is what he enjoys the most about paddling in rock gardens. We turned back here because it was getting late, 6 pm, and because we wanted to get back in time for dinner. We paddled straight back point to point and all three of us made controlled landings on Goat Rock Beach. Don had paddled down to Jenner this morning, then up to Duncans Mills to meet the rest of us, down the river to the ocean, and now I lead him through a whirlwind tour of my favorite local spots that was probably ten kilometers of open ocean. We still had to paddle three kilometers up the river to dinner and two kilometers back to our tents. Don says "I'm really racking up the miles today"!
As we paddled up the river we saw two great blue herons standing in the shallows of the shore. I pointed them out to make sure everyone saw their promised great blue heron. The plan is for everybody to meet halfway back up the river at the Sizzling Tandoor Restaurant . I had made reservations the day before and also got permission to park our kayaks on the boat ramp at the Bridge Haven Campground across the street. When we paddled down the river we were wearing little more than swimming trunks, t-shirts, and PFDs. Before we got in the ocean we stopped in Jenner and put on "battle gear": Wetsuits and helmets. When we got back out of the ocean we took off the wetsuits and continued the three kilometers to the restaurant. There we took off our wet river gear and switched to dry clothes for going out to dinner. Don rummaged through his dry sack muttering "where did I put that tuxedo"? But we all ended up in shorts t-shirts and sandals. Good thing the restaurant did not have a dress code.
We ordered 8 dishes to share among 10 people, plus two appetizer plates and one bottle of wine. The food was fantastic, everyone had at least enough to eat, and we ended up paying only $17 each including the tip. This was the only communal meal we had while "roughing it" on this camping trip. The woman at the Bridgehaven Campground (who let us park our kayaks) told me that she often walks the distance to the Willow Creek Campground, (about two kilometers) and we could do that instead of paddling back. But one of the reasons for scheduling dinner this late was to make sure the moon was up for a moonlit paddle back to our tents. The one thing I had forgotten about this night-time paddle was that I would have to do it sitting in a puddle in my sit-on-top kayak (there were 3 other people with the same problem). This meant changing back out of my dry cloths again and putting on swimming trunks. It had been a hot day and the evening was cool but still warm enough to wear swimming trunks. The water felt warm to the fingers but was a bit of a shock to sit down in. But then we all got comfortable with it and had a magical trip back up the river.
At night the water calms down and gets very smooth, which makes it feel like you boat is gliding effortlessly across the water. We started out as a tight group but soon spread out. I drifted across to the north bank of the river to paddle past a place where the bank is steep wall of rock dropping directly into the water. In the moonlight detail is difficult to see and the kayakers across the river disappeared. I saw a ripple, or a line of mist, or something swimming away in front of me. It turned out to be a duck when I got close enough to scare it into flight. As I passed the rock, a barn owl flew into a tree hanging over the water. When we got near the camp I heard a great blue heron calling (krank!) farther up the river.
Back at camp I started a campfire but almost everyone went straight to their tents and to bed. Roger and I were the only two to stay up and enjoy the fire and conversation. Until Don grumbled from his tent nearby that it was 1:00 am. Then I went to my tent and apparently sleep like a log. Almost everyone else was woken up at 4:00 am by gunfire. If you hear gunfire in the city, you are afraid. But if you hear it in the country you just roll your eyes and say "Darn red-neck kids". Nobody could tell where the sound came from, so it could have been across the river at the cattle ranch. Or it could have been someone farther down the campground who thinks this sort of thing is OK in the country.
The next morning while everyone was taking down their tents, five great blue herons flew down the river past us. Now everyone has seen one and my promise came true! When the packing was complete, we all went our separate ways again. Patty and Dennis went back up river to Duncans Mills to return the rented boat. Don stayed in the campground for another night. James and Lynn paddled straight to Jenner to leave early. "The girls" (Monica, Mariane, and Carol) had their cars in the campground parking lot, but arranged their own shuttle down to the restaurant to take out there. Roger wanted to go in the ocean again, and I eagerly agreed to go with him. His car was in Jenner and he offered to drive me back to my car later. I counted up people on my fingers to make sure we had not abandoned somebody on the river without a ride. Everyone was accounted for!
Roger and I paddled down the river, put on our wetsuits, and climbed over the spit on the Jenner side this time where the carry is shorter but the beach is a little steeper and dumpier. Both of us launched with no problems on the first try. We paddled straight northwest from point to point without stopping (very often) to go through (very many) caves or cracks we were just in the day before. We paddled up to Russian Gulch Beach which was full of people. Roger wanted a secluded inaccessible beach to eat lunch on, so we landed on the beach just north of Russian Gulch where only a few hardy fishermen ever go. The waves in the center of this beach were extremely mild and we paddled right up to shore like landing on the edge of a lake.
Just north of where we ate our lunch there is a rugged point with several rows of rocks running out to sea from it. From the type of kayaking he did the day before, I figured that Roger was going to like this spot and this turned out to be correct. We surfed back and forth between the rocks here and had a great time. Roger found a spot that I had never noticed before: In one place there was a low shelf of mussel- covered stone sticking out from the vertical rock cliff of the shore. There was a crack in this shelf that ran straight in, turned 90 degrees to run along the cliff and appeared to turn 90 degrees and come back out again. Roger went in one entrance of this and I went over to watch from the other. When he came back out I reversed his course. The section that ran along the cliff just sloshed gently up and down when waves were breaking in the entrances. The whole time we were cavorting like seals through the rocks here, there was a father-and-son team fishing off the end of the point. I waved at them but they never said anything. I wonder what they though of us, and I worried about the impression we might be making on the boy. We probably made the ocean look like a safe and fun playground for kayakers.
We turned back and went close to shore looking for more fun. There is a crack in the point on the south end of russian gulch beach that has a little cave in it. We had passed it by in our hurry to get to lunch, but on the way back we each paddled into this crack. Neither of us backed all the way into the cave because of the rough water. The next point south has a large crack of a cave leading to an open area that I have taken my brother Ralph into once before. Roger and I had paddled through this on our way to lunch and we lingered here again on our way back. The cave has very high walls and they were covered by some small short seaweed that was very red. Part of the reason the cave looked so red was because the rock was covered with pink sponge underneath the red leaves of the seaweed. I wondered if the seaweed was getting some of its color from the sponge it was growing through. I paused in the middle of this cave on one trip through and discovered some bright green sea anemones in the middle of all that red, attached to dents in the rocks in a few places.
We paddled back into sight of Jenner Beach and went through the rock with all the caves again. There was a group of rocks closer to shore here that we had missed the day before and Roger headed towards it. But we noticed a large group of harbor seals hauled out on these rocks and turned to give them a wide berth and managed to not disturb them. This brought us back to the place where we launched, and as usual the waves looked a lot larger and dumpier than when we left. A large set came in and both of us made poor landings. Roger landed OK but the next wave broke over him and rolled him up the beach. I missed surfing on a large wave, tried to follow it in but started to get pulled back out by the backwash. I decided to jump out but my feet tangled up in my paddle leash, I got pulled under, and ended up dragged up the beach by the next wave. Then while stumbling around trying to pull the kayak up the beach I lost control of it in the last wave of the big set. The kayak banged into my ankles before I could run away from it. To avoid having it break my legs I fell over backwards and let the kayak run over me again. Not my best landing by a long shot. No fear that we made it look easy to the people watching from the beach.
This whole trip I had my thigh straps on the boat. Roger mentioned to me at a previous trip that he had tried out a Scupper like mine with thigh straps once. He can Eskimo roll his own boat and discovered that he could also roll the Scupper when held down with these straps. I had him look at the straps to see if he could figure out why I have so much trouble with them. He thinks my attachment loops are too close together and this is why they always slip off on me. I'll have to rivet on another pair of loops. In the mean time, we got the straps to stay on if I put my feet in a different dent in the boat, raising my knees high enough to trap the straps. I felt very secure in this position, although my knees were somewhat in the way of paddling. Then on two days of kayaking, I never got into a situation where I was desperately bracing and really needed to be held into my boat. When we got back into the river, I tried tipping the boat over. I had always assumed that my low flat hull was too stable to tip over easily, which would make tipping it back up difficult as well. But with the straps on, I could just gently lean on it and it would go over. I hung upside down from my boat for a few seconds and tried to roll up once or twice without success because I don't have the training for this. When we got close to the boat ramp, I tipped over again and took my wetsuit and other equipment off while swimming close to shore. Doing this in the fresh water of the river means I won't have to hose off my equipment when I get home!
