Farmlands

It all started with a coin toss to end indecision over which vehicle to take to Hood River from Seattle. Better mileage or more space and comfort? Heads indicated space and comfort, so three of us loaded up the 2009 super-rig
and sat in rush hour carpool traffic on 405 south.

The first campground along Hwy 14 we wanted was closed, and at 12:30 am we weren’t too picky when we pulled up to another. I’d have been more picky if a train had rolled by while we were scoping it out and
contemplating: every half hour I felt like a locomotive was running right over
me. I popped a couple hydrocodone so at least if I was going to be awake all
night, I could feel somewhat relaxed.

After a quick breakfast at a coffee house in White Salmon (“I didn’t come all the way down here to sit around in coffee houses, let’s go boating!” – our driver) we decided to run Farmlands. I was nervous about
running a new river with IV+ and V sections on no sleep, but felt fairly
energetic in spite. We put in just above Sidewinder, lower than the usual put
in because of reports of log portages. While lowering my riverboard down a
short embankment, I let go a bit too soon and it kept lowering all the way into
the river. Lucky for me Oliver was already in the water in his kayak and herded
it back to the bank. Crikey.

Sidewinder rapid has a funky outcropping with a bit of a cave on its left side, where a lot of the water pushes. I popped up brushing the side of something black with my helmet, hoping I was on the correct side of
the mushroom rock. I was, but it felt a bit out of control. We had set safety
‘just in case’.

The river was a narrow ribbon of aqua-marine gouging through basalt canyons, starting out with low walls and dropping into gorges with overhanging rock on both sides. The major rapids and falls were all portageable. The sun
was out in full force, and the water felt much warmer than it had last time I’d
run the middle section for the Gorge Games in 2008. Escaping the perma-60s
rainy temps in northern Washington was reason enough to be there, but strangely
there weren’t many boaters out there. Probably too many other things running.

The Husum gauge read 3 ¼ but Farmlands seemed higher to those who had run it beforehand. There are irrigation diversions into the surrounding farms so perhaps so much was diverted downstream it affected the
gauge. A rapid called Doorbell was
completely covered and at higher gauge readings it has been less so.

We came upon a river-wide ledge and it didn’t look very big so I followed Leif’s line and on the way down met a protrudence that imacted my left shoulder. Should have scouted more thoroughly. Felt like such an idiot; I
knew instantly I’d done more than bruise it. Flash backs to seeing my friend
Bryce lift his shirt at the car at the Mt Baker parking lot after complaining
he couldn’t lift his arm very much, and seeing a bone poking up under the skin mid-shoulder.
I immediately tested the range of motion and the arm went over the head.
Shouldn’t be a separated shoulder. I did a standing push-up without too much
pain. We were about 1/3 of the way through. Hiking out there was an
impossibility so I decided I would tough it out. I’d already exited early three
rivers this season; this one I was determined to finish!

I skipped Lava Falls, a stout 14-footer with a sticky bottom and heavy veil known to keep captive kayaks for extended visits. Oliver got lucky the first time, fighting his way out of some stickiness, but styled it
the second. This inspired Leif to run it, landing a little less flat than he
would have preferred. I was happy to stand by haplessly with a throw bag and my
GoPro.

We had one wood portage (new this year) and I needed help getting my gear up the embankment, removing my fins for easier climbing. A couple more rapids and the river widened out to a class 2. I could easily have
hiked out there but thought that as long as I’d been in that long I’d continue.
The only trouble I was having was that I’d let go with my left hand in the
rapids a little more often than usual. But it will still less painful laying
down than standing up.

Offramp was the final feature, about a 10 foot drop from top to bottom but a bit of lead-in middle left. The surrounding rocks were warm but my shoulder was starting to bug me so we didn’t hang out too long. The water
was high enough to use a sneak line towards the right to make it easier to
catch the eddy above the drop. The far right, where I could hear Leif’s boat
scraping down, looked bony so I took a line just to the left but easily caught
the eddy and hung out there to make sure I found the correct line. It wasn’t
hard and it was a nice way to end the run. Although it wasn’t quite over yet.

There was one last bit of rapid, a very short one, just before the takeout at the Green Truss. To add insult to injury my right thigh somehow connected with a rock in that rapid, making it painful to walk. And it
wasn’t a hike out, it was a climb with a rope. But at least I’d finally
completed a section on a new river.

Climbing wasn’t bad using my good arm, but carrying the gear towards the highway hurt a bit and I was thinking that I was just getting into the groove of this dirtbag riverrat lifestyle. For six weekends in a row I’d
been camping and riverboarding far from home. I’d learned to go without showers
or toilets or comfortable beds or sometimes even dry feet. Was it all going to
end here? I couldn’t bear the thought and collapsed in a weepy heap, my
companions too concerned with getting the car back to provide solace.

Their hitchhiking efforst were fruitless, so I had Oliver peel me out of my wetsuit. I’d been afraid to take it off; it felt like the neoprene was holding it together. Luckily nothing looked odd, so I stripped down
to my two-piece bathing suit and wearing only that, put my thumb out. The first
vehicle stopped, probably blinded by the glare off my white skin. “Need a lift
somewhere?” asked the young male driver. “Yes, and I’m really sorry to do this
to you but I’m pulling a bait and switch.” “Uh, what do you mean?” “You don’t
get me. You get him.” I pointed at Leif. “That’s alright!” and off they went.

Meanwhile another set of kayakers came out and were picking up their gear. They seemed to have a shuttle bunny. What was taking so long? Finally the big Ford pulled into the dirt road, but the first thing I heard was
“This weekend is just getting better” in a tone that I knew meant, it was not
getting better. The power steering and power brakes were not working. Under the
hood, a snapped serpentine belt revealed why.

I wanted to get checked out at the hospital. The other group was gathering around making sure we were okay, when one of them looked through the window into the back seat at me. “Rochelle?” “Yeah, that’s me.” “James,
from Upper Icicle.” Professor Paddle weekend. He shuttled me from BZ to Skyline
Hospital, but since it took three hours for the addmission, xray and consult, he relenquished
responsibility back to the Ford driver. The vehicle worked just enough to get
around on battery power, somehow without overheating.

I’d gotten one Vicodin at the hospital and was feeling okay. I’d thought about adding to it with a mixed concoction at dinner but we were at Everybody’s Brewing and they only served beer and wine. Everybody’s Brewing in
White Salmon has great food and service in a casual, wood-finished space and
seems to be the hangout on the north side of the Columbia. A group who’d run
the Little White Salmon joined us as well as Willie, yes""> who had deserted his kayak behind the Lava curtain, losing
his paddle as well. Turns out Willie has run Canyon Creek with some
riverboarding friends of mine.

The diagnosis from the ER generalists was a level 2 separated shoulder. There are four levels; this is the highest one I could have without surgery to heal. Bryce had had a level 3. They said in two weeks it should
feel better but in 4-6 I should be back to normal. No breaks or cracks in the
bone.

We camped at Trout Lake in a deserted area of the campground and enjoyed a full moon and cloud-free night. The guys helped me set up my tent. Oh, to be injured - occasionally it has its perks. The next morning we
walked to a breakfast joint next to a gas station, that was apparently under
new management. After two cups of coffee and another twenty minutes, my oatmeal
was served cold, and the waitress was defensive about another menu item. We
won’t be eating there again!

Back to BZ, and I set up camp in my chair in the shade with a book in the pleasant 80 degree heat while folks boated Farmlands again. Oliver got a ride back to Seattle. We’d arranged for a tow at 5pm through Ford
Roadside Assistance. It was a free perk that came with the vehicle purchase.
Sometimes you get what you pay for. Four phone calls later and around 6:30 we
got our tow. In the opposite direction of the parts warehouse for a vehicle
whose part should have been too
new to break. Do you see where this is going?

We ended up at The Dalles Ford dealer next to a Motel 6. After observing the Motel 6 clientele for awhile, I got over the stigma of camping in a parking lot – it seemed safer than the indoor option. After a
disappointingly weak Long Island Ice Tea in a place with peanut shells on the
floor, followed by a very funny movie (for under $9!) we settled into our
sleeping bags with all the gear on the ground next to the rig, after reminding
my friend to pack a bit of heat next to his pillow up on the kayak rack.

Employees began arriving before 7am, but none of them gave us a second glance. The part we needed for the repair was, naturally, unavailable, and would not be available at that dealer until it was too late to
fix it that day. This was Monday and I was already going to miss work. We
needed a tow to where Leif originally strongly urged Ford tow it to, Portland.
But according to the roadside assistance plan, stated nowhere in its
literature, Ford has two weeks to fix a vehicle before covering a second tow.
Oh yes.

Not able to wait another day for the only part of its kind in the area (you’d think a serpentine belt would be a no-brainer, but this one was special), Leif ordered a tow to Portland to get the rig back on the road,
at his own expense. While the
truck got worked on we walked to a McMenamins where I got to see one of my web
design clients who lived nearby, and had just done some work for the week
before. We admired the
surroundings of the parking lot and thought it would make a pretty nice place
to camp. By 6pm we were finally on the road to Seattle, where it had been rainy
and gloomy over the weekend. Not
even to Centralia and the clouds looked ominous and my allergies came flooding
back.

Looks like the second tow fee will be reimbursed. Willie found his kayak and his paddle. I’ll be laid up 4-6 weeks.

From now on I will scout everything that isn’t completely visible, and not rely on coin tosses to make decisions.

Video of the river, ‘Farmlands’ at http://www.teamfli.com/video/farmlands-or-how-i-injured-my