B.C.?s big water challenged
Local kayaker tackles Stikine with team of Rocky Mountain boaters
By GREG STAHL
Express Staff Writer
The team: Jared Alexander, Conrad Fourney, Damon Miller, Dave Simonaitis, Bryan Fletcher, Scott Dohrty, Seth Warren. Photo courtesy of Jared Alexander
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For 13 years, local kayaker Jared Alexander has been sharpening his teeth on Idaho?s abundant white-knuckle whitewater, but he was still surprised by just how difficult and committing ?the Everest of North American rivers? actually was.
?If you screwed up, if you came out of your boat, you might as well shoot yourself,? the 31-year-old East Fork resident said. ?If you survived the swim, then you?d have to climb out of the canyon. If you didn?t get eaten by a bear, you?d still have a 50-mile hike to the nearest dirt road. It?s really remote.?
Two weeks ago, Alexander joined six other kayakers from Idaho and Montana to take on the renowned and respected waters knifing through the Grand Canyon of the Stikine in British Columbia, northwest of Vancouver. Their self-supported descent of all but one of the canyon?s rapids was one of the first trips of its caliber.
The 60-mile-long Grand Canyon of the Stikine is Canada?s deepest gorge, and the river that cuts through the earth?s belly there is on the limits of navigability. Signs at the canyon?s entrance declare ?extremely dangerous rapids downstream unnavigable by all craft.?
But for well-prepared groups of expert boaters who arrive at the river during the fall when the level is relatively low, most of the canyon?s class V rapids can be run.
?It?s just really amazing being really remote in there and running up against big class V,? Alexander said. ?It?s big?big, big, big?with must-make moves. You can?t screw up in there. I?ve boated in Nepal and New Zealand and stuff, but this is the biggest thing I?ve ever done. They tout it as the Everest of North American Rivers, and I agree.?
The septet of Idaho and Montana boaters completed the trip in three days and two nights, running all but the canyon?s largest rapid, named for a camping flat that boaters have come to call Site Zed.
There are about 15 named rapids and numerous unnamed rapids that Alexander said are worthy of class V designations.
?I got so tired of seeing horizon lines. I just couldn?t handle the stress anymore. I was just so glad when it was finally over.?
Without help from a support team, the kayakers loaded their boats with sleeping bags, food, tents, enough gear to survive?and a bottle of whiskey. Alexander said his kayak weighed somewhere around 70 pounds before he hopped in.
But there was more to the expedition than adrenal-pumping rapids. There was a sense of isolation. There was the immense beauty of one of Mother Nature?s magnificent works. There was teamwork among a group of friends.
?It?s just such an unbelievable place,? said Conrad Fourney, a Boise kayaker who organized the trip. ?It?s got big, runable rapids. They?re scary looking and a bit foreboding. You?re down in this deep canyon, and a lot of the canyon is vertical walls. You would be hard pressed in a lot of places to get out.?
The team worked together flawlessly, with all members emerging from the trip unscathed.
?We worked together. It was a perfect team,? Alexander said. ?Everything went really smooth. There was no wondering what anyone was thinking or doing.?
In Idaho, expert kayakers have a number of rivers to choose from during the icy spring runoff, but irrigation releases on the North Fork of the Payette offer a summer-long class V training ground that is renowned throughout the United States. The North Fork?s toughest rapid, Jacob?s Ladder, might come close to illustrating the difficulty of the Stikine?s rapids, Alexander said.
?It?s like running Jake?s at 10,000 cubic feet per second. The North Fork?s gradient drops at something like 125 feet per mile. I?d say this is that or more, but it?s with between 10,000 and 12,000 cubic feet per second.?
The North Fork?s irrigation releases usually range around 2,000 cfs.
The names of the rapids on the Stikine sound intimidating in and of themselves: The Hole That Ate Chicago, The Hole That Ate the Hole, Wasson?s Hole, The Wall. A rapid called V-Drive ?is a two-story drop with between 10,000 and 12,000 cfs going over it,? Alexander said.
Fourney said V-Drive is ?a two-story ramp into this huge, breaking maw. It was just a jaw opener. Below that, it?s just so white from the fury of the thing.?
The Hole That Ate the Hole, ?you could hide a house in this hole,? Alexander said. ?The Hole That Ate Chicago is a river-wide hole, scary. Wasson?s Hole is named after a guy who went in and made it out, but it doesn?t look like you could ever come out of it.?
Fourney, who has now paddled the Stikine three times, said it rained for a good portion of the trip, adding to the excitement as rocks were knocked loose from the steep canyon walls plunging into the water.
?Some did land relatively close to people, close enough that they started looking up,? Fourney said. On the third day, after they had gotten through all the biggest rapids, Alexander and Fourney watched as a car-size rock fell into the river.
First kayaked in 1981, the Grand Canyon of the Stikine is getting more attention, but it?s beauty is still something few people will probably ever lay eyes on.
?It?s something very few people will ever see in their lifetime,? Alexander said. ?It?s a totally secluded, awe-inspiring canyon. It redefines rivers being nature?s highways.?
