“7 days of no kayaking makes one weak.”

This quote is from a bumper sticker that you can see going by on almost any rack-laden vehicle in the Reno area.  For me, it is a sight for sore eyes and I can’t think of a better way to describe this last week.

It all started with the annual Reno River Festival.  This year marked my fourth year in attendance, but was only my first year as a true spectator.  For one reason or another, I have always shot this event (mostly self-assigning), so it was a real treat to just hang out.  The camera was along for a few images but, for the most part, I just walked around and caught up with all of the kayakers that I have spent so much time traveling and shooting with in the past.


(Jackson Kayak team member Clay Wright during the Reno River Festival.)

We all did the whole story-swapping bit for most of the weekend, but it was also a great chance to talk with everyone about summer plans, future shooting and new ideas.  By the time it was all over, this week’s paddling and shooting thoughts were in motion and I was in full planning mode.

I had Monday to recover from the weekend, work through some logistics and make communications that would allow me to disconnect for a few days and wait for the call.  As it always does when it comes to kayaking, the plan literally came together at the eleventh hour.  It was eleven o’clock at night before I had a solid grasp on where people were going before all cell phone service would be lost in the northern Sierra.  I set my alarm for a 4:30 a.m. wakeup and I was set to go.

The next morning’s travel was just shy of epic with a random snowstorm slowing traffic on I-80, my limited knowledge of where I was going, last-minute grocery and equipment purchases along the way and a group of kayakers so large that we actually ended up with a convoy of nine station wagons, vans or trucks and one RV pulling it’s own shuttle car.  We were definitely a sight for each small town we passed through.  Oh, and the convoy basically started with individual vehicles in different places that all met up along the way.  To put it short, logistics were crazy.

As we closed in on our final destination, about an hour from any phone reception, you could feel the excitement growing.  I was especially psyched because I knew that instead of my usual two to four paddlers, I was going to have upwards of fifteen people to shoot.  Not only that, but we were all on a mission to be there because of this creek’s known “edge of the world” steepness.  All of the elements for a successful few days seemed to be present.

On top of all of that, I had an old college friend lined up to hang out and join us.  He had a great time, helped me out a ton (being the photographer, my logistics are usually harder than even the biggest group of paddlers) and even shot some images of me at work.  Thanks again Billy, I can’t wait until the next time we cross paths!


(Jackson Kayak team member Phil Boyer leaving the lip of one of the cleanest 50 ft falls on the planet.)

After using my first day mostly as a scouting trip, I realized that there was no way I would be able to get the image I really wanted by paddling.  My vision would require hiking all of my gear down to the river, then paddling across the river only feet above a 50 ft waterfall, then a burly bushwack of a climb up the other side of the gorge.  It seemed like a lot of work for one set of images, but that was the set I was after.  There was no question in my mind about whether or not to go for it.

I put in the time, the miles, the sweat, blood (no tears) and ensuing poison oak rash, but we got it.  The rapids lined up exactly how I had hoped they would and I was able to photograph one of the most impressive displays of athleticism and gumption I have ever seen.  It was beautiful.

It was so impactful for me to see this through my lens that I have decided to run this section of whitewater next spring.  I have some work to do before then, but I want someone out there to hold me to this.  I want to know what it is like to paddle up to the lip of this set of drops without any view of where it ends, and go anyways.

All of that aside, it was also just great to hang out with old friends and familiar faces on the water and in the woods.  After a few weeks of office work and a stomach virus, this last week really solidified why I do this.  I can’t imagine  any other life.

Now, it’s off to Downieville, California for a few more days of the same: paddling, camping, shooting and reveling in the state of being disconnected, even if only for a little while.


(Demshitz crew and Pyranha team member Jared Seiler styling "99 Problems".)


(Demshitz crew and Pyranha team members Jeremy Laucks and Graham Seiler doing a real man's portage.)


(Jackson Kayak team member Stephen Wright dropping in on 50 feet of free fall.)

This post is a part of a publishing experiment called A Steady Drip.  Go to the table of contents at www.asteadydrip.com to see more.

            It’s that time of year again.  Yep, the holidays, but also my time at home to hunker down and plow through mounds of catch up work while also pulling off all of my Christmas duties and planning for the next year on the road.  It’s like working forward and backwards at the same time, while still having plenty to do in the present.  I don’t want this to come off as a complaint; I’m really just explaining what I have been up to.

            Filling the desk jockey role for the last few weeks, I have definitely neglected my need to be outside for all but two half days and one amazing full day.  That is not much outside time for someone who, for the most part, lives outside, but it has put a few things into perspective for me, and that is what I would like to share.

            Life is short.

            We have all heard this phrase as an inspiration to go do whatever it is that makes us happy or fulfilled.  It seems to reverberate deeply into our most basic understanding of life as a timeline and the idea that what is most important should not be pushed aside for what is (in the big picture) less important.

            I bring this up because a week or so ago, I was sitting at my computer, handling my workload while witnessing a perfect blue sky, 20 mph wind day on the lake pass me by. 

I was going through some files in a storage room when my Mom came in to look for Christmas decorations.  I mentioned what an amazing day of sailing we were missing, which prompted me to ask if she thought my Dad would drop his home repair project for an afternoon on the water.

Always the responsible one, I was surprised to hear my Mom blurt out, “Oh my goodness, ask him, go sailing, life is too short!”

Done.  Life is too short.  It is such a simple phrase, but it does it every time.  Suddenly, nothing was as important as spending a few quality hours in a boat with my Dad.  I asked, and he reacted the same way my Mom did.  He dropped everything and even beat me in getting down to our little 30-year-old J-24.

I don’t need to describe the day any more to let you know that it was completely worth it.  We came in at sunset, warmed up and I hopped back on the computer and worked late to finish everything I had planned for the day.

The next morning, I opened my Facebook account and saw a few comments on my update about sailing and life being short.  It seemed that quite a few people agreed, and the father of a friend even wrote me a note about taking advantage of every moment available, especially with family.  He had just come in from a funeral for his son’s 18-year-old friend who was killed in a car accident.  It is extremely unfortunate, and my heart goes out to the family.

The lesson is, unexplainable and tragic events happen, and we never know when or how, so we must try to remember to live everyday.

The following weekend, I had the opportunity to spend a morning mountain biking with two old friends.  It was a Saturday, and I had plenty to do.  I was hoping to take advantage of time with no business communications (being a weekend) and hammer out other tasks that get set aside during the normal week.

Same thing.  I thought about my afternoon on the lake and the advice from my friend’s father and realized that everything else could and should wait, so I went mountain biking with my friends.

We had a great time, got some exercise and reconnected in a beautiful setting.  And all of that aside, we also shared something that you only get (or maybe I only get) from being outside.  It is a comaraderie among those who experience life outside together in its simplest form.  Everything else fades away when the situation demands only one thing; get up this hill, get through this rapid or over that next ridge.  It is simple, it is pure, and it is beautiful.  Once again, it was completely worth it.

Those are the two half days, only a few hours each, but they meant so much.

The one full day was this last Saturday.  A rainy Friday meant the rivers in the area would be up.  A buddy’s text message and a phone call later and I was set to paddle a “southeastern gem” called Overflow Creek.  I haven’t paddled anything really steep and challenging in months (many months), so I was a little hesitant until my paddling buddy said something that was all too reminiscent of my mom’s life is too short comment.  He said, “Man, this creek is a gem, when it’s running, you paddle it.”

And once again, done.

He was right, the creek is a gem and I was truly lucky to catch it with water and such a great crew.  I was the only one who had never been on the run, but everyone made me feel completely comfortable with it.  Good decisions were made, beta was given, safety was set when we needed it and there were no bad lines (Although I missed two strokes that would have made my life a little easier.  Still, nothing serious.)  Thanks again guys!

Hours later, I met up with some old friends and ended up climbing for a few hours.  I am no climber, but I had a great time challenging myself in something different and clowning around with old buddies.  I honestly cannot think of a better way to spend time with people than being active outside.

Whether it is biking, climbing, kayaking, sailing or anything else, being outside in open spaces actually brings us together.  It shrinks us down and separates us from everything that seems so important when we are inside.  Be it an email, a phone call, paper, proposal or whatever, it is all very insignificant when you are staring down a waterfall with butterflies in your stomach or cruising a wide open lake at sunset with your Dad.

My thought for the day is, do what is really important for yourself and those around you, because life IS short.

As I finished that closing thought, I received a text message from my friend.  It reads, “If I get home tonight and my extra light works do you want to go night riding?”

I answered, “Yep.”

            What do full-time van dwellers do in the middle of a heat wave?

            We find a friend with AC and politely work our way into that friend’s home, desktop computer, clothes, groceries and all.

I typically strive to be completely self-contained and parallel the wilderness leave no trace ethics when I stay with friends, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  Last week the Portland, Oregon area saw temperatures hovering around 104 degrees, rendering a very miserable egg in a frying pan kind of existence in the van.  I had no choice.

I am incredibly lucky to have an old high school pal with a commercial freezer for a studio apartment (not literally) and an open door policy smack in the middle of the city.  I moved right in, set up my computer and enjoyed all the high speed internet one could ever wish for.  It’s a small thing for some, but a complete luxury for me.  I even found myself saying something that I am not sure I really meant.  I actually exclaimed, “man, I love working at a desk!”  I’m still not ready to believe it.  I think I was just caught up in the moment and will pass it off as that for now.

But seriously, all amenities aside, it has been great to catch up and be in the company of an old friend.

The second thing van dwellers, or people in general, do is find water and get in it!  From fountains in the city to the Columbia river and the nearby coast, people were doing anything possible to be in water.  It was one of those few circumstances where everyone could understand where everyone else was coming from and it made it acceptable to do whatever possible to regain a sense of comfort, even if that meant leaving work early, etc…  Of course, I followed suit and turned one day into a full on beach and surf kayak mission.

    “Hood River, Oregon is not too shabby.”  I believe I was quoted as saying that earlier this week, and I still agree.

            After two days of van and computer repairs in Reno last week, Christian (brother along for the ride for 5 weeks this summer) and I sprinted up to Portland.

Leaving an area with friends is always sad, but it was nice to be moving toward something new.  I have not had a chance to spend much time in the northwest (even though I have always wanted to), so planning out the next few months of my life up here just seemed to make sense.

            I called up an old friend who lives in Portland and made arrangements to park in front of his apartment until we could get things sorted.  It was a great reunion, and his year and a half old daughter cracked me up the whole time.

Connecting with old friends like that is one of the true blessings of being on the road full time, but like always, it was far too short.

A late night text message confirmed some plans we had made earlier and by coffee and bagel time, we were on our way to Hood River, OR.

We relaxed and listened to music for the one-hour trip, motivated and did some grocery shopping, then met up with Andy Maser and Trip Jennings of the Epicocity Project (http://www.riversindemand.com/) for some shooting on the Little White Salmon.  They had both been out on the river the previous week setting up an intricate video pulley system to get their camera above the renowned Spirit Falls.  Andy had told me a thing or two about it and I was all about checking it out as well as scouting a bit for my own shooting.

We ended up spending two days on Spirit Falls and I’m pretty sure they got some great perspectives of the rapid.

The set up was awesome, but my favorite part of the two days was hearing Trip divulge some details about their trip down the Congo River last summer.  It was about as adventurous as I can imagine an expedition being.

The trip was isolated to an area of political unrest, they were held hostage, paddled the unknown and boofed from the edge of one 25-foot deep whirlpool to another in 1.3 million cfs of water, carried hi-tech sonar equipment built into one of their kayaks and sought out 6-8 foot long piranha style fish that swim up rapids and hunt in packs.  It was too good.  I wish I could have been there.

Since then, Christian and I have been taking care of a lot of things that have been building up over the last few weeks.  Not as fun, but necessary.

Shooting some kayaking in the next few days is looking promising and today might be my first day of kiteboarding.  When in Rome I guess.

Last fall I had the privilege of meeting renowned paddler Luke Hopkins while on a run of the Upper Gauley in West Virginia.  We hit it off pretty well and ended up having a great day of paddling, laughing and doing the “shakey face” in front of his new HD video camera (I still think mine was the best).

Like all great days on a river, we learned a lot about each other.  He learned about my journey through the photo and adventure world and I learned about his recent passion for stand up paddleboarding (SUP) on rivers.  I could see in his livliness that he was genuinely excited to tell me about his new discovery. In his words, he had found an entirely new way to experience all of the rivers, lakes and inland waterways that he loved so much.  Not only that, but he was going to start his own SUP company.

I was floored. Here was a guy with intense passion and motivation breaking new ground with a little known (and still new in the main stream) sport and going against all convention to start a company in completely unknown territory.  I only had one thought.  How do I get in on this.

We talked, went over some ideas, exchanged contact information and decided he would call me whenever he was going out.  All in all, we ended up getting in another great day on the Gauley, one on Summersville Lake and two more in the true testing grounds – Great Falls of the Potomac.  From flatwater exploring to the unknowns of standing up in class V whitewater, Luke truly showed me what it is like to be a guinea pig.  To our knowledge nobody else had ever attempted these rivers, lakes and rapids on a SUP.

We sent a few photos to the publisher of Stand Up Journal and had an amazing response within minutes.  He (and most others) had never seen anything like this and wanted more.

It ended up turning into a full story about Luke, his life and his new dream.

The spring issue of Stand Up Journal hit newsstands in late March and had a great response. I am a little late posting this, but I would still like others to read and learn about Luke, his experience, my experience with him and the new ways to get on the water.  The magazine is still available at any Barnes & Noble or Borders, but the summer issue will be replacing it soon.

I will always remember those few weeks last fall, and I am proud to have played a role in the inland SUP movement.  I know there will be more to come.

Keep an eye out for Luke’s new boards which are hitting the water as I type this. Like everything else in this whole experience, they are very innovative and I expect will become the standard for inland SUP.  For board info, tour dates and anything else, go to:

http://www.ridestride.com/

Thanks again Luke!

Sitting here, killing some time at a Laundromat with one arm and leg propped up to stave off the oozing poison oak itch I have acquired under my arm pit and the back of my knee, I can’t help but think about the past week that landed me here.

Christian (younger brother along for the ride for 5 weeks this summer) and I spent Memorial Day weekend relaxing, kayaking, sleeping in and eating breakfast at noon (brunch, I guess) with some friends in Incline Village on the northeast corner of Lake Tahoe.  It was a nice weekend to feel good about not doing too much.

But that all changed with a last minute text message from some paddlers I know that put us in full mission mode.  We quickly made a plan, did some grocery shopping and packed up for a mean hike into the Royal Gorge section of the North Fork of the American river.  We had a brief meeting with the group about their logistics as well as our own then pointed the van to the trailhead.

Pulling in to our dirt road in the dark rain, we ran into the first of many impassible snow banks blocking the way.  We deliberated and drove around for an hour looking for another route, but never found one, so we ended up parking where we started and accepted an extra four miles of hiking to the trailhead the next morning.

Sunrise came and we were off, feeling good, but weary of the amount of mileage we were about to accumulate. 

Our progress found navigating snow covered dirt roads with no names to be tougher than we planned and before we knew it, I took us on an hour-long detour before finding the actual trailhead.  That was one hour that proved to be very dear.

The day wore on and we made our way down into the depths of the gorge in the piercing Sierra sun.  Climbing over huge fallen trees, yelling for bears and bushwhacking our way down a rarely used trail, we found ourselves pretty beat and behind schedule.  Determined to make it worth it, we kept pushing and finally made it to the set of drops where we had planned to meet our paddlers.  My heart sank as we looked and saw two kayakers at the bottom of the rapid, and the others portaging the next section. We were minutes too late and missed it.

They had waited for us, but had accidentally dropped their radio in the water and had no way to know if we were going to make it or not.  In the interest of making it to their planned campsite by nightfall, they made the right decision to keep going.  It was disheartening.  We really could have used that lost hour.

Deciding not to get down about it, we picked up and kept hiking, ready to get to the next designated meeting spot and rest for the night.  We all arrived at about the same time and went over the events of the day.  From big drops to invisible trails, it was a big day for everyone.

The next morning brought a beautiful Sierra sunrise and the sound of rushing water over Rattlesnake Falls.  There was an understood silence around the group as butterflies came up in everyone’s stomach.  The first move of the day would be three paddle strokes off of a 50-60 foot waterfall with a nice sized rock on both sides of the landing and a crazy peel out move for the lead in.

Three members of the team decided to go for it and they all styled it., but unfortunately something happened in the last paddler’s landing.  It looked great, but he injured his ribs and found he could barely move is torso.  He gave it a few minutes, then decided to shake it off and keep going, but soon realized it was too much.  He physically wouldn’t be able to finish the run and needed to hike out.

Christian and I were on our way out when one of the kayakers (acting as a messenger) ran up to us and explained the new situation.

Mentally preparing for our new scenario and the possibility of at least one more night out with a potentially dangerous injury, we put a plan together and went to retrieve our friend and his kayak. He was definitely in pain, but was still able to get himself to the other side of the river in order to carry his boat up a flatter section of boulders.  We tried to help, but he is pretty tough and the situation called for him to handle it. Just as it seemed like it couldn’t get any worse, he ran into a full size rattlesnake and was chased, kayak and all, along the shoreline.  BURLEY!

And if that wasn’t bad enough, we still had the prospect of starting the massive hike out to the van.

Two hours into the undertaking, we all realized that we were moving much quicker than we had expected and with that came the prospect of getting to the van by  nightfall, and more importantly, getting some cheeseburgers and milkshakes.  It’s funny, but that became our motivation.  It was the only thing on our minds, and I know it helped us.  It gave us a goal, and the more we suffered, the more we wanted it.

I was really feeling an old knee problem and my buddy potentially had some broken ribs, but we were powering through it. And like clouds lifting after a huge storm, the trail gave way to a dirt road and we knew we were home free. We hiked a few more miles on a FRESHLY PLOWED road that was of course covered in snow the daybefore, then hitched a ride back to the van with a fisherman and his daughter.

Next thing we knew, the three of us were inhaling cheeseburgers and strawberry milkshakes.  It was a grand way to end a day with true epic potential.

Our buddy made it to the ER in Truckee, CA and found out he had separated a rib.  Still not good, but in the scheme of things, it could have been much worse.

Being a Wilderness First Responder and knowing the complications with rib injuries (collapsed or punctured lung, internal bleeding, etc…) the situation could not have had a better outcome.

Overall, we missed a great photo because of some delay and confusion on our hike, but I am glad that we could be there for a friend.  Plans always change, and things happen that are out of our control, but dealing with it and moving forward are the only ways we can keep going.  As soon as a friend, partner, or team member’s health is in question, nothing else matters.

That is a perspective I plan to keep.

Thursday afternoon and the website was ready to go.  After 6 weeks of traveling, shooting, editing and planning, I was finally ready to relax. There was an impromptu BBQ at my friend’s house in South Lake Tahoe on a beautiful spring afternoon and I was set. Then he asked, “hey Trevor, what are you doing tomorrow?”  And for the first time in a month and a half I actually didn’t know.  That was a good thing, because a few hours later my brother (Christian, along for 5 weeks this summer) and I were driving to San Francisco to help my friend with a fun shoot involving some amazing people.

A stop in Placerville, CA for some In-N-Out burgers put my van a few parking spaces shy of a whitewater film crew’s Land Rover.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to hunt them down, so I pulled out my computer and emailed them, burger and fries in hand.

Moving forward, we made it to Livermore, CA around midnight, took a nap and woke for a 4 a.m. start.  The day went well and everyone seemed to be really excited about all of the images being produced.

As we broke down the day over some Thai food, my phone rang and behold, it was one of the members of the film crew that I had emailed.  We discussed our locations, plans and thoughts, and before finishing my meal, we were ready to start driving back to the mountains for a morning meeting involving some kayakers hucking themselves off of a 50-foot dam.

The next day went exactly as planned and I hid in some bushes as two kayakers snuck up to the dam and went for it.  The great part was catching them launch off of a 15-foot ramp at the bottom.  It was the first time I have seen, or even heard of, a kayaker actually getting float time in the air.

Afterwards we headed up to a known, but hidden gem called the South Silver.  Hiking and scouting yielded an amazing creek with unreal gradient, but too much water for any sane kayaker to try.  Tired of scouting and driving, we jumped on the Kyburz section of the South Fork of the American river and had a great time.  It was a great end to a very unexpected day.

Taking a rest day on Sunday, we helped a friend move and I made plans with some other paddling buddies to meet up on the Lovers Leap section of the SF of the American on Monday.  It was a good reunion with a burley section of river and lots of water to juice things up.  Looking back on it, there wasa bit too much water for me.

I knew it would be a tough day, but there was no way to know how tough.  The guidebook mentioned one portage, but had no description of any of the rapids.  That usually means one thing -- that there are too many big rapids to name and that there is no way to keep track of them all in order to describe them.  And that was the case.

I was breathing hard after the first rapid, and they just kept coming.  There was almost no respite from monster holes, fallen trees and blind drops with 50-yard split-decision handsignals for guidance.  We all handled it well (my two professional buddies much better than me) until I hadjust taken too much.  I was getting tired and before I knew it, the river found my weakness.  I got tossed at the top of an impressive set of drops and never recovered.  My paddle was ripped from my hands and I pulled the cord, ejecting from my kayak only to feel more vulnerable.  I had a few seconds to decide how to swim the rest of the rapid and went for it.  Luckily my intuition was right and I was able to make it to a safe eddy without any more drama.  And likewise, my two buddies saved the day and were able to collect my boat and paddle in the middle of the chaos.  Thanks guys.

The rest of the run went pretty well and I ended up walking out of the last ½ mile because there were too many hazards for me to feel comfortable, especially after being shaken by one swim already.

In the end, it was a good day.  I challenged myself, but kept the big picture in mind and took myself out of the equation when there was too much risk for myself and the others involved.

By choosing to participate in these types of sports and situations, you have to ask yourself, “at what cost am I willing to pursue my endeavors?”  Put that simply, the answer is always clear.

Thanks again Bryan and Andrew.