Make sure to check the photos link, as I'll be posting new ones often.

Here's the review I've been meaning to write for some time on Doug's book he published last fall/winter.

The Laugh of the Water Nymph by Doug Ammons



In this collection of short stories, Doug Ammons takes the reader through his twenty years on the forefront of expedition paddling.  For those of you who are not familiar with him, Doug began paddling in the early 80s with many of the early big water paddling legends, like Rob Lesser and Bob McDougal.  He has since pioneered a number of big descents, including the first self-supported descent and a solo descent of the Grand Canyon of the Stikine in British Columbia.

The book is a series of short stories that begins with his days as a new kayaker learning the ropes from those he looked up to, and ending with the year of his last big expedition, the Triple Crown (a made-for-TV moniker     he didn't really care for, representing the Devil's Canyon of the Susitna, Turnback Canyon of the Alsek, and the Grand Canyon of the Stikine).   In between, there's some great fiction, giving Ammons a chance to have some fun and comment on the state of the sport in general.

I've known Doug since our experience together on the Triple Crown, and I've been looking forward to this book for some time.  Though I had read most of the stories in one form or another, they come together very nicely in this layout.  Included is a very nice set of color photos from his experiences (I'll admit a bias, as he used a few of mine for this).  Rather than feeling like a set of unrelated stories, this feels like one flowing narrative of a man's experiences with the sport.

Anyone who knows Doug would agree that he is a complex individual, and that sense certainly comes through in his stories.  I have always admired his ability to write about the whitewater experience, describing in great detail the feeling of dropping into a huge rapid, or the satisfaction of paddling out of a deep, dark canyon.

This is more than just a hair-raising, thrill ride kayaking story, though.  It's a thoughtful examination of the sport and the people who are involved with it.  If you have been kayaking long enough, you realize it's not just about the adrenaline and the excitement, but it also has a lot to do with friendship, camaraderie and accomplishment.  This book is a reminder of what makes kayaking more than just a weekend hobby and why it is so meaningful to so many of us.

I'm afraid my writing skills are not enough to convey the merits of this wonderful book.  Read it for yourself.  The book is available at Doug's website, http://www.dougammons.com/ .
Check it out while there are still copies available.

Winter 2000, Toddie, Doug, Rich, Ralls and myself pack up and head south.
The trip began with a 4 day warm-up in Pichilemu, getting hammered in the waves, and eating bad seafood.

This was followed by an excursion to the far south for a week on the Futalefu.  What a fantastic river!  Rich earned the title "Corazon de Leon" for his unsuccessful attempts to drown himself in Mundaca.  Much to our dismay, his little head just kept bobbing up.  We stayed at Spe's place and literally drank the town dry.  On the last day, we had to scour the little village just to find some crappy wine.  But find it we did, and we drank that too. 

Other highlights:
Doug and I tried to kill ourselves in Inferno Canyon. 
Toddie gave Ralls the Queen of Spades
I took lots of pictures of "pretty clouds", which are not posted here

Oh, and we played dirty clubs. 

Afterward, we headed further south, for a crab fest, the "hip deep in crab" installment, and my last ever attempt to lead a trek, around the Torres del Paine circuit, the "hip deep in mud" chapter.  I feel compelled to mention here that at the end of the trek, Doug and I (the "guides") got lost. 

Click on 'Photos - S. America' for a graphical representation of the preceeding.

In the middle of 1998, as the summer was winding down, Gerry, Charlie and I found ourselves thinking about what to do when the fall came.  The inevitable question had been lingering with all of us, "Go North?" - North being where the Stikine is.  I had actually been thinking about it all year, and was pressing Gerry and Charlie to go as well.  Both had been before and knew better than to be as excited.  Still, we paddled hard all summer, with the thought of a big trip in mind. 

One night as we're sitting on a rock next the South Fork, talking about the coming months, Gerry had an epiphany.  "I know, let's do all three - Devil's Canyon, Turnback Canyon, and THE Grand Canyon!  We'll call it the Triple Crown, sell it to Men's Journal, and have it paid for . . . "  And so launched the adventure of a lifetime.

Moffatt of course had no problem selling it, and before we knew it, we had funding and a plan.  We roped Reggie into going as well - he would fly into anchorage and meet us for the first leg, Devil's Canyon of the Susitna.  The story, as it were, is that we’d be following in Walt Blackadar’s footsteps, retracing his epic descents (and swims) in these big wilderness canyons (except for the Stikine, which is The One He Never Did But Wanted To).

The drive to the put in turned into an epic road trip.  Charlie, Gerry and I drove to Portland and rented a GMC Jimmy from an unsuspecting Budget Rental Car.  Little did they know that we’d be strapping six kayaks on the roof and driving over 4000 miles in the next month.  We drove through the night to Prince Rupert, where we loaded the Jimmy on a shuttle for a three day journey through the Inland Passage.  This was one of the neatest parts of the whole trip for me, as the three of us plotted and planned, played World Dominating games of Risk, and checked out the passing scenery.  We spent countless hours reviewing Blackadar’s notes and pictures, hoping to get some insight into the places we were heading.  From Haines, another 1000 miles of driving remained to get us to Anchorage to pick up Reggie and on to Talkeetna, the takeout for Devil’s Canyon.

Devil’s Canyon became a personal battle for Blackadar, as he never actually made it past the first rapid without swimming. He dropped into Devil’s Creek rapid and spent most of it upside down and underwater.  Impressive enough is that he did it once and lived, surprisingly, he kept coming back for more.  By the end of his original expedition, only his teammates, including Rob Lesser, actually descended the whole canyon.

Two thirty minute flights via float plane got us to a sandy beach a few miles above the canyon.  I can remember a distinct gurgling in my stomach watching the plane take off and fly away, realizing that after ten days of traveling, here we were, and it was time to get busy. 

The next morning, we climbed up a tall cliff to overlook the entry rapid to the canyon, Devil’s Creek.  We were a bit late in the summer, and the water had dropped, maybe a bit too low.  A couple huge, unrunnable ledges defined the rapid, making the channel right of the main rapid the only realistic option.  While this option was steep and tough in itself, it was a little disappointing to have to essentially portage the first big drop. 

To be honest, the remainder of the canyon was not too difficult.  The infamous Nozzle didn’t really have enough water to be scary, and the other rapids were very straightforward. We stopped and camped at a beach near the halfway point, and the only other rapids of real consequence were the Pearly Gates and the Bus Stop.   The Bus Stop was the exit move, a riverwide hole that needed to be gutted.  Moffatt left that up to me – it was a little softer than I expected, and I was able to punch right through, partly helped by a loaded Overflow.  The boys followed, and we were left with a 20 mile paddle out, where we caught a passing train and headed back to Talkeetna.

A funny thing happened in Talkeetna that night.  On reaching the train stop, we ran into Taurus Gene(sp), son of Ray Gene, the first man to do a winter ascent of Denali.  Ray was killed on Everest while Taurus was still in his mom’s belly, which happened to be at Base Camp at the time.  Taurus introduced himself to us and invited us to come stay the night at his house.  Wait, let me back up.  Taurus approached us and said he was a filmmaker and wanted to drop us in our kayaks out of a helicopter into the ocean and that he would pay big money.  He then climbed in our Jimmy and took us on a tour of the scary forest “the trees have knives in them” before making us give him a ride home.  Taurus was chemically unbalanced to say the least, but very entertaining.  We met his mother, who he lived with in little house on the Susitna.  We spent the next few hours watching the sun set on Denali and listening to climbing stories about Taurus, his dad, and friends of theirs who had passed through over the years. 

Then we made a trip into town.

At a local bar, we saw the more primal side of Taurus.  Taurus had had a big day, what with all the excitement of new people and such, not to mention the half ounce of dope he smoked over the preceding few hours. After chugging three pints top to bottom, Taurus started heckling the performers who showed up for open mike night in Talkeetna.  He was asked several times to please quiet down, but instead took to playing along by blowing into his beer bottle.  Finally, the performer stopped his set and let Taurus know that it was time to knock it the fuck off.  Upon being confronted with this, Taurus went into fight or flight mode.  He jumped up onto the table, threw his beer at the bar TV and gave a primal howl as he ran out the door and into the night, leaving his accomplices (us) to apologize and cool things down.

We found Taurus and took him home.  His mother was nice enough to let us camp in her yard that night, and we had a chance to relax a bit and start thinking about the next leg of our little trip.

Check out photos, under BC/Alaska

Coming in Part II, Turnback Canyon

Glaciers, killer icebergs, and missing oatmeal.

From my friend Dan Rough, who recently finished an expensive MBA, and who used to school me in advanced calculus in college.

As you may recall, Bonnie and I are in Minneapolis because I took a job with Northwest Airlines in their marketing department, domestic yield management to be exact.  Anyway, before I started I was informed that I had been selected to go through flight attendant training.  It was something that other incoming MBA recruits would be going through with several other people in management.  Knowing that the airline industry is an intense union environment, where union leaders and upper management often fight it out to the finish, I thought that this was a program designed to help management get a better understanding of what it would be like to work on the “front lines.”  WRONG.  The mechanics union were in the middle of there negotiations and things weren’t going well (something I already knew), but the flight attendants were the one union that was likely to support the mechanics, potentially calling in sick en mass and/or striking themselves (something I didn’t know).  So, as it turns out I was asked to be nothing other than a scab.  When I started work on July 18 I spent my first week doing computer-based training in preparation for two weeks in the classroom.  I have one week left in the classroom, and so far, other than the actual thought of working a flight, things have gone pretty good.  We’ve jumped down the escape slide, played in the rafts, and of course mastered the safety demonstration.  For our “final exam”, we will actually work a flight from Minneapolis to somewhere on the west coast.  If it weren’t for the 55 year-old fat Midwestern guys with hearing aids who can barely turn around in the isles, I’m sure no one would notice anything odd. 

 Today I found out, that I am being stationed in Washington DC on Aug 18 and be on call for probably a week.  On the 19^th the mechanics are free to strike, but most people seem to think that it won’t come to that and if it does, the flight attendants won’t do anything in support.  Thought you’d enjoy the update.

 Prepare doors for departure and crosscheck,

 Rough

 
This was a couple weeks before the strike actually happened, and the flight attendants did support the mechanics.  Fly safe, Rough!

don't forget to click on 'photos' while your here to see some of avery

hi everyone!