Hangman Creek - THE MOTHER OF ALL STANDING WAVES!
gpa...@gntech.net
this NG that do not belong to the local club. Here is a sample of what you
are missing -- a sneak preview from our Eddy Line newsletter. If you were a
member, you'd experience other folks' stories.... Just remember, what you
read comes from the "Everyone has lapses of logic" file. Also, it wasn't me
doing it; this hasn't been proofed yet. ---
The Mother Of All Standing Waves,
Hangman "Creek" December 28, 1998
By Stan (last name zapped to protect the innocent and non-thinking)
First of all, let me say that I don’t usually do this kind of stuff this time
of year, but the opportunity presented itself and the window of opportunity,
a.k.a. disaster, was fleeting.
There is this guy at work, Rick, who purchased a new Mad River royalex tandem
canoe last summer and a copy of the Landers/Hansen Paddle Guide book last
week. Just so happens that Rick lives within sight of the usually bone dry
Hangman "Creek". Rick is not yet a club member, and after our first paddle
trip together, I wonder if he will ever become one.
So on December 27th, a nexus occurs between our work schedules and the
Hangman "Creek" stream level. We later learn that the flow rate is over
10,000 CFS and that Pullman and Colfax are flooding. Although new to the
sport, Rick has the wisdom to proper gear for this ‘float’. His canoe has a
large center air float bag, two bailers, and an extra paddle. We both have
wetsuits, (God appreciates some help when watching over fools), Gore Tex,
wool and neoprene this and that, and a dry bag with dry clothes. What we
lack are painter lines and the time to do adequate scouting. Why, we barely
have time to load up and run the shuttle! Daytime is burning and we launch
past 2pm. There isn’t much daylight this time of year. But we have this
nifty book describing the trip, #16, and a 7 to 8 MPH flow to push us along.
Just enough time! We launch about 12 miles south of People’s Park (Nudist
park, for you RBPers) at the prescribed put-in. Several unusual things are
immediately apparent. The water is the color and consistancy of one of those
nasty iced latte’s that you only buy once in your life. It is also full of
debris: tree limbs, pine cones, and most annoying of all, six inch thick
sheets of ice as large as table tops. All this flotsam has the uncanny
talent of following the ideal line through many twists and turns. Being
cautious, we have to transition this lane of debris to be on the inside of
every turn. Rick looks like the Bowman in the painting of General Washington
crossing the Deleware. More ice shelves "calf" as we paddle along adding to
the grinding torrent. The upper two-thirds of the "creek" is like an
oversized Little Spokane in fast-forward. "Let’s hit the big waves", Rick
shouts. We do and he does just great. The pace picks up past Railroad
Rapids as the "creek" funnels in tight against the basalt cliffs to the west
and the hard man made flood control banks on the right. The meandering nature
of the stream bed is now behind us. We rocket under the Inland Empire Way
and Chestnut Street bridges in a blinding blur. That's when this Kenworth
diesel sized rock jumps out in front of us! Must be "Big Rock Hole" as per
the book. It has water going over the top of it and both sides. Not liking
the size of the waves in the left channel, i yell to Rick that we will take
it on the right. And so we do, but just barely. We hook around that boulder
and the hole behind it like a golfball running around the lip of the cup.
Centrifical force and the suction of the wavetrain pulled us into the nasty
waves anyway but at least we didn't go over the top of the rock at 10 MPH.
The more benign waves farther down the rapid swamp us in short order. Riding
the airbag we spin a one-eighty and struggle to stay upright as we work
towards the racing bank. Rick latches on to what looks like a piece of some
runted farm implement and i grab onto an old auto axle that is sticking out
of the bank. Safe refuge! With some effort we empty the canoe and get it
pointed downstream again. We are soaked now but i assure Rick that we only
have a mile to go and the worst is behind us.
Boy, am i a liar! Things go well for the next couple of blocks as we
cautiously hug the right bank. Just past the 11th street bridge we come
around a right hand corner and there it is! More ice and Palouse than water
is THE MOTHER OF ALL STANDING WAVES, bank to bank and wall to wall! No
eddies, no way around it and no possibility of backpaddling against the
torrent. Keep it straight and go for it! Climbing up the front side of the
monster i look past Rick's shoulders and see nothing but sky and the
underneith of the I-90 bridge. We hang on the crest. The Mad River pitches
over and we scream down the backside of the wave, our eyelids peeled back
from both fear and sheer acceleration. First, the bow disappears in the
chocolate brown mass at the base of the next wave, then "Mr. Let's Hit The
Big Waves" Rick, then the airbag then me. We slog out the other side,
somehow still upright and bracing for all we are worth against the remaining
waves. We are swamped! Big time. Rick throws away his bailer and starts
"bailing" out his boat with both hands, tossing cinderblock size chucks of
ice overboard. Futile. Still no eddies, more waves, menacing brush, limbs
and ice shelves line the bank. The spinning swamped craft races through High
Bridge Park. We are helpless and very near getting flushed into the big
Spokane river! [River of the unrunnable Spokane Falls picture you RBPers may
have seen]
Finally the stern slams into the bank and rolls us out of the canoe and into
ice strewn water. Rick grabs some brush with one hand, his canoe with the
other and somehow hangs on. I get washed down a bit farther and am able to
crawl onto the ice shelf, then up on to the brushy, boulder strewn bank. It
seems to take an eternity for my frozen body to get where i can help poor
Rick who is hanging on, still in the water and getting pummled with ice
blocks. Carrying the boat now, ebbing adrenaline gets us back to where the
shuttle is parked. At this point who should walk up but the SCKC (Spokane
Canoe and Kayak Club) El President'e, the Honorable Mr. Brian Burns! Busted!
I am so exhausted at this point that i don't immediately recognize him! He
promises to ignore this transgression on the presidential office if i write
this Eddy Line article. So, here it is! Lessons leanred: If you don't have
time to scout it, you probably don't have time to paddle it. Watch those
flood stage runoffs!
- Stan, ex winter whitewater paddler. -
--
- Gary, aka The Water Dog, Spokane Falls WA -
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mcfr...@netscape.net
gpa...@gntech.net wrote:
> There are a couple of you folks from around eastern WA., Idaho, and MT in
> this NG that do not belong to the local club. Here is a sample of what you
> are missing -- a sneak preview from our Eddy Line newsletter. If you were a
> member, you'd experience other folks' stories.... Just remember, what you
> read comes from the "Everyone has lapses of logic" file. Also, it wasn't me
> doing it; this hasn't been proofed yet. ---
>
> The Mother Of All Standing Waves,
> Hangman "Creek" December 28, 1998
> By Stan (last name zapped to protect the innocent and non-thinking)
>
> First of all, let me say that I don’t usually do this kind of stuff this time
> of year, but the opportunity presented itself and the window of opportunity,
> a.k.a. disaster, was fleeting.
>
Now you're talkin like a real boater! i.e. screw the elements, if it's right
do it! Full speed ahead, man the torpedos!
Snipsville-
>We later learn that the flow rate is over
> 10,000 CFS and that Pullman and Colfax are flooding.
Ah, the perfect level for either upper canyon run or in this case the lower
"slum" run!
>We launch about 12 miles south of People’s Park (Nudist
> park, for you RBPers)
McHolehog's only naked kayak run area! should seen the looks of the
"naturalists" as I eddied out, popped my sprayskirt, and walked bare-ass naked
to a sandy spot and popped an ice cold frosty one!
Snippage-
> Several unusual things are
> immediately apparent. The water is the color and consistancy of one of those
> nasty iced latte’s that you only buy once in your life.
Yeah, like an ice cold, thick chocolate malt, similar in color and
consistency, but not the taste!
Snip a-go-go-
> Finally the stern slams into the bank and rolls us out of the canoe and into
> ice strewn water. Rick grabs some brush with one hand, his canoe with the
> other and somehow hangs on. I get washed down a bit farther and am able to
> crawl onto the ice shelf, then up on to the brushy, boulder strewn bank. It
> seems to take an eternity for my frozen body to get where i can help poor
> Rick who is hanging on, still in the water and getting pummled with ice
> blocks. Carrying the boat now, ebbing adrenaline gets us back to where the
> shuttle is parked. At this point who should walk up but the SCKC (Spokane
> Canoe and Kayak Club) El President'e, the Honorable Mr. Brian Burns! Busted!
> I am so exhausted at this point that i don't immediately recognize him! He
> promises to ignore this transgression on the presidential office if i write
> this Eddy Line article. So, here it is! Lessons leanred: If you don't have
> time to scout it, you probably don't have time to paddle it. Watch those
> flood stage runoffs!
>
> - Stan, ex winter whitewater paddler. -
>
Well done you couragious flat waterers! You indeed got luckier than you
thought! That flood stage Hangman can be one nasty MF'er, with debris jammed
bridges, rebar impalers, strainers underwater which with a clarity of 0,
you'd never know it.
I'm happy you both made it through unscathed, but ;you might be so lucky next
time. Let's be careful out there.
Paddlingly yours,
Mick "Holehog" French
"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought
without accepting it." - Aristotle
gpa...@gntech.net
mcfr...@netscape.net wrote:
> Well done you couragious flat waterers! You indeed got luckier than you
> thought! That flood stage Hangman can be one nasty MF'er, with debris jammed
> bridges, rebar impalers, strainers underwater which with a clarity of 0,
> you'd never know it.
Stan is no flatwater type. He's our Club's WW Canoe Racing Coordinator...he
did, however, have a lapse of good judgement. The ice and cold were the only
things new to him.
> I'm happy you both made it through unscathed, but ;you might be so lucky next
> time. Let's be careful out there.
Yep, and i wasn't on that trip...i just report it; i'm the editor. I am the
type to _not_ push the envelope. And i express this on a regular basis.
(..though i am going to paddle the Winchester Wasteway this year. Not a lot
of class, though very technical in the lower end.)