charlybldr
08-09-2005, 01:28 PM
OZ/US Northwest Rendezvous
Wednesday July 27
Davis Creek
Participants: Rob Cobb, Joe Bugden, John Hart, Dave Haavik, Ken Leibert and Charly Oliver
Rob, Kevin and I were standing on the side of the dirt road tossing wet suits and wet gear into the back of Kevin’s fancy new Ram 2500 pickup, the perfect vehicle for the twenty something electrician. It was big, shiny, noisy, sucked gas like there was no tomorrow and with Kevin behind the wheel, was a full on chick magnet. Not a bad vehicle for canyoning, except for the gas sucking part. It was July of 2004 and we had just finished a descent of Davis Creek. “Well, what do you think?� was Rob’s question. “Pretty damn nice.� was my reply. “For a canyon about the same length, difficulty and level of commitment as Pine Creek, I’d say it was maybe… ten times better?� “Definitely destined to become a Northwest classic!� Of course, Rob knew the answer before I said anything. He had done Pine Creek and not to put down this Zion classic, agreed with me 100%. “If you could only do Pine Creek and Davis Creek for the rest of your life� he said, “you’d never do Pine Creek again.�
Kevin wouldn’t join us this year. After a season of canyons with Rob he had grown into what appeared to be a competent and promising canyon partner but then out of the blue, Kevin just moved on. I guess he felt big trucks; dirt bikes and chicks were more fun. They certainly aren’t any less dangerous. Instead we had assembled the “A� team consisting of Rob and myself, joined by John Hart, Joe Bugden, and locals Dave Haavik and Ken Leibert. With the exception of Dave and Ken, this was day three of a weeklong canyon trip in the Pacific Northwest. Dave had managed to take a few days from his busy schedule to join us for the remainder of the week. Ken, one of the most prolific canyon explorers the northwest will ever know, will probably go down in history as the Fred Becky of northwest canyoning. His website Canyoneering Northwest is the source for all information and beta for canyons in the region and is Ken’s pride and joy. Ken is so busy with new exploration he doesn’t repeat canyons very often. Davis Creek was still on his “to do� list so he called in sick and joined us for the day.
We were only running a few minutes late and off pavement heading up the dirt road to the canyon ingress when here came Ken bombing down toward us wondering I’m sure, “what was taking us so long?� The narrow dirt road did not permit Ken a u-turn so off he went, bombing down the road to turn around at the bottom and get back to the parking spot before we could haul our gear out of our packs. The place where you park at the top of Davis Creek is also an informal local shooting range. An old bullet riddled target stood back against the hillside and empty cartridges littered the ground where we stood. A previous strategy to safeguard against break-ins at this spot involved scrawling a note in the dust on the rear hatch of Rob’s camper shell. “Hey Bubba, Gone for more ammo. Be right back.� Whether or not this strategy actually worked is a good question I guess. At least it didn’t piss off the locals enough to break into the truck anyway. On a previous visit with Kevin a truck full of red necks drove by as Rob and Ken were donning wet suits. A little concerned Rob and Kevin watched as the truck raced by in a cloud of dust. Relieved that the local boys didn’t pay too much attention to two men in skin tight neoprene Rob looked at Kevin and said “If they had stopped, I was gonna say, I’m just about through with him. You guys can have him next.� much to Kevin’s chagrin. With cars spotted and gear sorted we crossed the road and headed downhill, into the dense forest toward our rendezvous with this northwest classic.
The approach takes all of five minutes. You don’t want to drop into the canyon too soon or too late as cliffs bar the way to the creek. By using a little common sense and following our collective noses we managed to split into three separate groups still managing to arrive in roughly the same place. While we donned harnesses and helmets Dave set the rope length for the first rap, a short 20’ drop into a deep pool. One of the things about Davis Creek is that it is steep, deep and smack dab in the middle of dense old growth. Normally the rock in northwest canyons is pretty grippy but not in Davis Creek. Even the dry spots were slicker than shit! So slipping and sliding we headed down canyon.
Typical of canyons in the area Davis features lots of swimming and wading in deep water between long, spectacular drops. In no time at all we came to the point of no return, a short drop that can be down-climbed or easily rapped off a nice natural anchor. This short drop however, skirts a deep pothole with a nice eddy poised directly over a 100+ ft. drop. No wider than about twenty feet at this point, a huge tree had fallen across the gorge the end of which created a, slick, moss covered stance. Carefully clipping into the anchors Rob leaned out and visually set the rope length. At 140’ the first waterfall lands in a turbulent pothole at about the 90’ level. From here the water courses down a lower angle falls the remaining distance into a deep dark pool situated in one of the most beautiful, verdant grotto’s you can imagine. Photos from my first visit didn’t turn out as I was shooting 100 ASA film in very dim light. The sun was out today however, and the light better. John and Joe followed Rob down to set of for pix.
It was Ken’s turn next. The rappel on this drop takes you down right next to the waterfall. It is set up this way to avoid knocking loose rock, ubiquitously present in the first twenty feet, down onto yourself and to avoid scraping the rope across numerous sharp edges as you would inevitably swing back if you varied from the fall line. Never one to avoid water Ken traversed over and rappelled directly in the waterfall. Ken’s point I suppose is difficult to argue. “You do wet canyons, you might as well get in the water.� But Dave and I watched in horror as the inevitable pendulum caused the rope, now taught as a bowstring, to scrape across the jagged loose rock below the anchors. The rope didn’t go slack to I guess that was a good sign. Dave though, was more than a little concerned for the condition of his rope. “I’ll check it out and give you the go signal if the rope is ok.� said Dave.� If it’s not, you can switch it out with the second rope and we’ll turn this one into the pull cord.� Cool with me. So the rope finally went slack, Dave clipped in and headed down. After a short time the rope went slack again and the whistle signal echoed up from below. Unfortunately, Rob and I got our signals confused. What Rob thought was a “yes, come on down� I interpreted as a “no, don’t go�, to me meaning the rope had been core shot and I needed to change it out.
So I started pulling up the rappel rope carefully looking for a blown sheath. To my surprise I found none. Realizing our miscommunication I fed the rope back down and started my rappel. Of course, I had to stop at the edge of the pothole and sort out the rope salad before finishing the final bit. Green moss and thick ferns were everywhere. The din of the waterfall drowned out all other sounds. It was an otherworldly place this spot, visited by only a few. I unclipped from the rope, tossed the pull rope bag out into the pool and jumped in.
(continued in part 2)
Wednesday July 27
Davis Creek
Participants: Rob Cobb, Joe Bugden, John Hart, Dave Haavik, Ken Leibert and Charly Oliver
Rob, Kevin and I were standing on the side of the dirt road tossing wet suits and wet gear into the back of Kevin’s fancy new Ram 2500 pickup, the perfect vehicle for the twenty something electrician. It was big, shiny, noisy, sucked gas like there was no tomorrow and with Kevin behind the wheel, was a full on chick magnet. Not a bad vehicle for canyoning, except for the gas sucking part. It was July of 2004 and we had just finished a descent of Davis Creek. “Well, what do you think?� was Rob’s question. “Pretty damn nice.� was my reply. “For a canyon about the same length, difficulty and level of commitment as Pine Creek, I’d say it was maybe… ten times better?� “Definitely destined to become a Northwest classic!� Of course, Rob knew the answer before I said anything. He had done Pine Creek and not to put down this Zion classic, agreed with me 100%. “If you could only do Pine Creek and Davis Creek for the rest of your life� he said, “you’d never do Pine Creek again.�
Kevin wouldn’t join us this year. After a season of canyons with Rob he had grown into what appeared to be a competent and promising canyon partner but then out of the blue, Kevin just moved on. I guess he felt big trucks; dirt bikes and chicks were more fun. They certainly aren’t any less dangerous. Instead we had assembled the “A� team consisting of Rob and myself, joined by John Hart, Joe Bugden, and locals Dave Haavik and Ken Leibert. With the exception of Dave and Ken, this was day three of a weeklong canyon trip in the Pacific Northwest. Dave had managed to take a few days from his busy schedule to join us for the remainder of the week. Ken, one of the most prolific canyon explorers the northwest will ever know, will probably go down in history as the Fred Becky of northwest canyoning. His website Canyoneering Northwest is the source for all information and beta for canyons in the region and is Ken’s pride and joy. Ken is so busy with new exploration he doesn’t repeat canyons very often. Davis Creek was still on his “to do� list so he called in sick and joined us for the day.
We were only running a few minutes late and off pavement heading up the dirt road to the canyon ingress when here came Ken bombing down toward us wondering I’m sure, “what was taking us so long?� The narrow dirt road did not permit Ken a u-turn so off he went, bombing down the road to turn around at the bottom and get back to the parking spot before we could haul our gear out of our packs. The place where you park at the top of Davis Creek is also an informal local shooting range. An old bullet riddled target stood back against the hillside and empty cartridges littered the ground where we stood. A previous strategy to safeguard against break-ins at this spot involved scrawling a note in the dust on the rear hatch of Rob’s camper shell. “Hey Bubba, Gone for more ammo. Be right back.� Whether or not this strategy actually worked is a good question I guess. At least it didn’t piss off the locals enough to break into the truck anyway. On a previous visit with Kevin a truck full of red necks drove by as Rob and Ken were donning wet suits. A little concerned Rob and Kevin watched as the truck raced by in a cloud of dust. Relieved that the local boys didn’t pay too much attention to two men in skin tight neoprene Rob looked at Kevin and said “If they had stopped, I was gonna say, I’m just about through with him. You guys can have him next.� much to Kevin’s chagrin. With cars spotted and gear sorted we crossed the road and headed downhill, into the dense forest toward our rendezvous with this northwest classic.
The approach takes all of five minutes. You don’t want to drop into the canyon too soon or too late as cliffs bar the way to the creek. By using a little common sense and following our collective noses we managed to split into three separate groups still managing to arrive in roughly the same place. While we donned harnesses and helmets Dave set the rope length for the first rap, a short 20’ drop into a deep pool. One of the things about Davis Creek is that it is steep, deep and smack dab in the middle of dense old growth. Normally the rock in northwest canyons is pretty grippy but not in Davis Creek. Even the dry spots were slicker than shit! So slipping and sliding we headed down canyon.
Typical of canyons in the area Davis features lots of swimming and wading in deep water between long, spectacular drops. In no time at all we came to the point of no return, a short drop that can be down-climbed or easily rapped off a nice natural anchor. This short drop however, skirts a deep pothole with a nice eddy poised directly over a 100+ ft. drop. No wider than about twenty feet at this point, a huge tree had fallen across the gorge the end of which created a, slick, moss covered stance. Carefully clipping into the anchors Rob leaned out and visually set the rope length. At 140’ the first waterfall lands in a turbulent pothole at about the 90’ level. From here the water courses down a lower angle falls the remaining distance into a deep dark pool situated in one of the most beautiful, verdant grotto’s you can imagine. Photos from my first visit didn’t turn out as I was shooting 100 ASA film in very dim light. The sun was out today however, and the light better. John and Joe followed Rob down to set of for pix.
It was Ken’s turn next. The rappel on this drop takes you down right next to the waterfall. It is set up this way to avoid knocking loose rock, ubiquitously present in the first twenty feet, down onto yourself and to avoid scraping the rope across numerous sharp edges as you would inevitably swing back if you varied from the fall line. Never one to avoid water Ken traversed over and rappelled directly in the waterfall. Ken’s point I suppose is difficult to argue. “You do wet canyons, you might as well get in the water.� But Dave and I watched in horror as the inevitable pendulum caused the rope, now taught as a bowstring, to scrape across the jagged loose rock below the anchors. The rope didn’t go slack to I guess that was a good sign. Dave though, was more than a little concerned for the condition of his rope. “I’ll check it out and give you the go signal if the rope is ok.� said Dave.� If it’s not, you can switch it out with the second rope and we’ll turn this one into the pull cord.� Cool with me. So the rope finally went slack, Dave clipped in and headed down. After a short time the rope went slack again and the whistle signal echoed up from below. Unfortunately, Rob and I got our signals confused. What Rob thought was a “yes, come on down� I interpreted as a “no, don’t go�, to me meaning the rope had been core shot and I needed to change it out.
So I started pulling up the rappel rope carefully looking for a blown sheath. To my surprise I found none. Realizing our miscommunication I fed the rope back down and started my rappel. Of course, I had to stop at the edge of the pothole and sort out the rope salad before finishing the final bit. Green moss and thick ferns were everywhere. The din of the waterfall drowned out all other sounds. It was an otherworldly place this spot, visited by only a few. I unclipped from the rope, tossed the pull rope bag out into the pool and jumped in.
(continued in part 2)