Two Shorts
Last spring and summer I was working with Katie Spotz towards making a documentary about her plan to row solo across the Atlantic Ocean. In May we filmed a series of interviews at and around her home in Mentor, Ohio, and we continued to seek financing for the project throughout the summer and into the fall. As her December departure drew near, we both realized that we lacked the resources (both time and money) to complete the project at a high level of quality; so we amicably parted ways.
Katie is currently several hundred miles off the coast of South America in her rowboat Liv, and it will only be a few weeks before she lands at her destination in Cayenne, French Guiana. She’s had a hugely successful journey so far, and it looks like she will finish her trip well ahead of schedule. You can follow her adventure here.
In anticipation of Katie’s arrival, I went back and dusted off some of the old footage we worked on together. I’d hate to see this content go to waste, and I’m also hopeful that I’ll be able to license some of this content to news outlets that want to tell Katie’s story. This short video reveals a bit about Katie’s anticipation of her journey as well as some of the tensions that emerged amongst her family as she pursued her unconventional dreams:
Katie Spotz - Row for Water Interview from Horizonline Pictures on Vimeo.
Just before my visit with Katie I spent two weeks touring the North Shore of Lake Superior in Minnesota, kayaking a handful of world-class whitewater runs. Part of my trip took me north into Canada where I got to boat three beautiful, wilderness rivers with John Alt, Pete Gehrels, and a few other good friends. John contacted me the other week asking to see some footage of a beating he took on the Cypress River on our first day out in Canada. Rather than just post the video to facebook, I thought I’d work it into more of a finished piece–a small preview of the extensive content from the North Shore that I will be producing with Rapid Transit in the coming weeks. Stay tuned for more!
The Cypress 30′: a North Shore Preview from Horizonline Pictures on Vimeo.
Thanks for checking in. Let me know your thoughts on the videos and on shorts.
-Chris (more…)
14 Days in the Grand Canyon
Last August, when Adam Goshorn offered me a spot on his winter Grand Canyon trip, I thought at the time there was no way I could swing it. The base cost of permits and travel combined with the extensive gear I would have to acquire loomed large. But the idea lodged in my mind, and after it worked on my imagination for a few days I laid down the $100 permit deposit to hold my spot.
Flash forward four months, and I’m standing on the beach at Lee’s Ferry with the six other members of my group preparing to launch onto the Colorado River. In the weeks prior to our December 5th launch date I had managed (with extensive help from my local outdoors shop, Diamond Brand) to put together the equipment necessary to make this journey–a three-season tent, 15-degree sleeping bag with fleece liner, gloves, wool socks, drysuit and insulating layers, etc., etc. With these items packed away in my drybag I was feeling pretty confident for the journey ahead, but the ranger giving us our orientation that morning seemed to have other ideas. She went to great lengths to impress upon us the seriousness of the expedition we were embarking on, warning us about the various critters that would try to steal our food and share our sleeping bags at night all the while making foreboding references to a heavy winter storm coming our way. In reference to the whitewater we would encounter downriver she said simply, “You’re going to be surprised.”
Our group of six about to put on the river.
Once we slipped our four kayaks and two rafts into the cool, green waters of the Colorado, we quickly forgot the ranger’s gloom. Our group of seven had pulled together around the gravity of Adam’s organization: there were his four college buddies from the Radford University Outdoors program (Chris “Odie” Odell, Brandon “Beadle” Dale, Herb Crimp, and Dave Goodman), there was his co-worker (and the only woman on the trip) Kim, and then there was me, a friend made through several days spent together on rivers around the Southeast. If there was any common characteristic that bound our party together during those first days we were getting to know each other, it was that we shared a vibrant sense of humor–a cardinal virtue when you have to spend fourteen days in the wilderness together.
The air was comfortably cool and the skies clear and sunny as we floated down the river that first afternoon. The canyon walls began to rise around us, and a still quite replaced the bustle and conversation that had dominated our morning preparations. We drifted beneath the Navajo Bridge (the last sign of civilization for many, many miles), and the tiny silhouettes of people high above looked down and waved at us. We whistled and waved back and forth to them.
Beadle and Odie take in the early Canyon beauty.
Adam Goshorn rounds a river bend. Day 2 on the river.
This river journey was unlike any boating I had ever done, and I had a lot to learn. I learned how to efficiently pack my personal drybag. I learned not to pitch my tent beneath the tamarisk trees. (While setting up, the prickly needles dropped down my pants and stuck to my longjohns). I learned not to thaw the congealed olive oil in the pot of hot water intended for drinks.
Day by day our team of seven tightened up our routine and the distribution of labor. Due to scheduling conflicts, we had allotted only fourteen days to complete the Canyon (normal winter trips take nearly twice that long). This meant that we had to average twenty river miles each day, which was a heavy load for the rafts. Our three dedicated oarsmen (Kim, Herb, and Dave) all had minimal rafting experience and were learning the slow-moving, eighteen-foot oar-rigs for the first time. I found the rafts to be an exciting challenge and took many opportunities to share in the oar work. Lining up for a class 4 rapid is pure fun in a kayak, but in a huge inflatable weighing over a thousand pounds it becomes a daunting challenge.
To my surprise, one of the greatest challenges in the raft proved to be the flat water. The river would often meander through mild stretches of long oxbows and pools. In certain pools, nearly all the current dove below the surface, creating a river-wide eddy current that the oarsman would have to fight to cross. In swifter water, the main concern was being swept into a recirculating eddy where the swirling current would trap the raft behind eddy fences and keep it spinning in circles, unable to re-enter the main flow.
Looking down on Nautiloid Camp: our home for night 2.
Our raft dwarfed by the Canyon walls in one of the calmer stretches of river.
On our third day out, the character of the river bed was particularly fickle and the effort of downriver progress exhausting. We stopped at Lower Nankoweep Camp in the early afternoon, and as we unloaded the rafts a light rain began to fall. The winter storm had finally caught up with us, and it rained off and on throughout the afternoon as we hiked up the canyon walls to visit the ancient Indian granaries. By nightfall the rain was falling steadily and gave no indication of letting up.
The storm blows in over Nankoweep.
Kim and Adam had managed to pitch their tents before things got really wet, but the remaining five guys all elected to huddle up under the kitchen tarp for the night. I attempted to set up my tent fly and poles under the tarp, poking several people in the face before all was said and done. A cold, windy front blew through camp as the darkness became complete, and the tarp overhead soaked through until it sagged and dripped all over. A few sleepless hours into the night, a major gust lifted the edges of our tarp and brought pots and pans cascading down atop the heads of the guys trying to sleep beneath the kitchen tables. A chorus of colorful language followed.
Shortly before midnight, the falling rain and sudden drop in temperature conspired to set off a series of rock slides on the canyon walls around us. It was an eerie, thunderous sound–each long rumble was followed by expressions of awe from beneath our tarp. Balled up in my sleeping bag and trying to stay dry, I thought to myself that if there was anything that could redeem this miserable night, that sound was surely it.
Calm and very cold: the morning after the storm snow blankets the canyon rim.
The next day dawned clear and very chilly. The night at Nankoweep would be the worst weather we encountered on the trip, but it set off a stretch of persistently cold, wet days that were trying for our group. There was a tradeoff of this miserable weather, however: the wintry conditions produced some of the most beautiful scenes we would witness during our time in the Canyon:
Herb and Dave row below the snowy rim.
Passing through the narrowest point on the Canyon. Some of the rock here is Vishnu Schist, a tremendously hard, black stone that has been carved into elegant, curved formations over eons of time (also the oldest layer of rock in the canyon).
Afternoon light.
It took me a long time to get used to the size of our group in the Canyon. Many nights, while sitting around the campfire, I would look up and wonder who was missing, only to count and rediscover that we were just seven, and all present. For me, this new sense of scale was the most impressive part of the experience. Being way down in the Canyon truly puts a person “in his place.” We’re forced to recognize how small and insignificant we are in the context of creation. This is a humbling thought, especially in light of the out-of-scale impact that we humans frequently have on the natural world (for example, the two enormous dams that bookend the Grand Canyon).
The Canyon is an embarrassment of riches in natural beauty, and for the avid photographer it can be a challenge to simply pull back from the lens and be present. As our journey progressed, I found I had to remind myself to spend time apart from my cameras in order to take it all in. Here’s more evidence that I was not entirely successful in this effort:
Adam at work on a cold, cold day.
Kim, still smiling despite the rain.
The blue waters of Havasu Canyon, a tributary to the Colorado.
The group enjoys an afternoon snack at Below Redslide Camp--first sunny day we've seen in a while!
The author looking a bit weather-beaten after nine days on the river. (Photo by Dave Goodman)
Looking upriver from Below Redslide.
Campfire and stars that night.
In addition to the wonderful scenery, the Grand Canyon offers a lot of high quality whitewater. Our whole journey down the Colorado I lived in dread of a raft flip, and as luck would have it, I was the only person to come close to actually tipping a raft over. We were fortunate, though: Our three oarsmen/woman navigated every challenge with grace. The whitewater of the Grand Canyon can be pretty well summed up thus: big waves, big holes, big fun.
Kim looking small in the approach to Lava Falls.
No whamy, no whamy. Whamy! Deep breath.
Herb & Dave roll through the meat of Lava Falls. (photo by Adam Goshorn)
We made our mileage quotas, and by day eleven we were able to take a layover at Whitmore Wash Camp. We slept in, hiked to a nearby pictograph panel and continued up the adjacent lava flow to the rim, and in the evening we ate as much of our remaining food stores as we could stomach. At Whitmore we savored all the best aspects of the Grand Canyon in winter: no crowds, no motorized traffic (helicopter or boat), driftwood campfires, and minimal threat of embarrassing exposure while grooving by the riverside.
After nearly two weeks on the river, I’d finally grown used to the small size of our group and the remoteness we felt each day in the Canyon. As our journey neared its end I began to feel some reluctance about re-entering the “real world.” You might understand the quotation marks here, for in many respects a wilderness trip like this is much more of a substantial experience than the day-to-day grind that forms our customary routine. That’s why we hunger for wild places. The natural world is good therapy for the culture-addled mind and heart. Take away culture, take away cell phones and television and the Internet (and yes, even cameras sometimes), and you begin to pay attention on a different level. You watch the play of light across the carved landscape, you smell the dry sage aroma of the desert in the morning, and at night you hear the river and are exquisitely aware of the absence of any other sound.
Light and shadow: the difference between T-shirt weather and shiver weather. The Canyon is a place of stark contrasts.
Barrel Cactus way up high in a landscape meant for hardy creatures.
View from the rim above Whitmore Wash.
Two days after our layover at Whitmore Camp we rose before dawn and floated one final mile downriver to our takeout at Diamond Creek. Drifting out of the Canyon in the pre-dawn stillness felt like a fitting way to conclude our trip.
This journey down the Canyon took me by surprise in so many ways. It was one of the greatest adventures of my life. I’m grateful to the folks at Diamond Brand who supported me in this journey, and I thank you readers for participating in the story this far. In closing, I’ll leave you with two final images from the Canyon. Here’s to adventure and to sharing it with good friends:
The Rapid Transit DVD Premiere! (for Georgians)
Cover Art for The Eddy Feeling
This Thursday, January 21st, Rapid Transit (a collective of kayaking film producers of which I am a member) will be hosting a premiere for our first DVD, The Eddy Feeling. The show will start at 9PM at the Cine in Athens, GA (http://www.athenscine.com/intro.php), and it is free (thanks to the UGA Whitewater Club!).
From my unabashedly biased perspective, I can report that this is an excellent movie that introduces the viewer to a collection of unique individuals, each of whom add something different to the film’s exploration of why kayaking is such an engrossing and enjoyable pursuit. The movie also gives an in-depth look at the Linville River, a remote, class V gorge in North Carolina that ranks among the elite whitewater runs of the world. Spencer Cooke wrote, produced, and edited the movie along with the collaboration of Rapid Transit producers Daniel Windham (From the Darkroom), Chris Gragtmans (Catalyst Media), and myself (Horizonline Pictures). For more info about the DVD, click here: http://www.rapidtransitvideo.com/blog/?p=207#comments.
Also, on January 20th (Tuesday) between the hours of 8 and 10, Riot Kayaks will be hosting a boat demo and roll session at Ramsey pool on the UGA campus. Contact the UGA Whitewater Club for more info on this.
There will be two other premieres for The Eddy Feelingcoming up on February 5th, 9:30PM at the Brew’n'View in Asheville (http://ashevillepizza.com) and on February 25th at Cabin John, Maryland (http://liquidadventures.org).
I am personally very excited about this first movie to be released from Rapid Transit. It represents the core of what we’re about as a group: telling rich, exciting, fascinating stories from the world of river running adventure. I hope you’ll take time to check it out, watch the flick, and that you’ll forgive the poofy, bowl-cut hairdoo in my brief appearance in the film. We all have bad hair days.
Much love from the Southeast,
Chris