Truss Tales: Show me your O-Face!

Due to the lack of water, and steadily dropping temperatures in the beautiful state of Montana, I made my way over to the kayaker's mecca of Hood River this past weekend with my good friend Rosalynn West to meet up with the famous, and rougishly handsome, Orion Meredith. I don't know if Orion really is famous, but I think he's a good candidate for star studded glory. And besides, anyone who can muster the confidence to sport the nickname O-Face, deserves an applause, even if he had no choice in the matter. Haha, Thanks Crissler. You are sorely missed out here on the left coast.

Orion Stompin Big Brother

After leaving Missoula around 9:30, we drove staight through to the outskirts of Hood, rolling into a rest area 10 miles out of town around 5 in the a.m. Luckily, I got to ride shotty the entire way as Rosalynn made the marathon drive. Friday dawned bright and sunny, and the water running under the Green Truss bridge was sparkly, and suprisingly low. Fortunately, the run downstream was still of the highest quality, and Big Bro was boof-alicious. Also, with the lower water came the opportunity for some Little Brother freewheelin, with partial success. This was Rosalynn's first trip down the Truss, and she styled her way down, portaging only the biggest bits, and making some highly amusing seal-launches, one of which was right in the middle of Upper Zig-Zag. Orion's first run off Big Brother was an amazing boof-to-melt-to-almost flip in the cave-and finish with a nice eddy catch in the pocket. Trying to stop the fits of giggles that overtook me at that point, I hopped in my boat and fired away. Good lines all the way through, and saweeet boofs over BZ was the name of the game for Friday and Saturday, and a quick hike up Eagle Creek on Sunday to drool over Metlako, which was too low to run, rounded out a great weekend in the partially sunny Northwest.

Rosalynn and Orion scoutin it up. Is Rosie throwin a shocker?!

Rosalynn running a drop somewhere in the gorge.


Big Bro self portrait.

Martin hittin the boof-o-matic flake.

Cali-Rally: Burn Fest 2010

4 a.m. pacific standard time, and the dilapidated red subaru rolls into Arcata, fully loaded with creek boats and enough caffeine to kill a horse. Out of the doors roll two stinky, and redbull powered souls, buzzing with excitement.

Now rewind 16 hours.

It is just after noon, in Coeur d'Alene Idaho, I'm done pounding nails for the weekend, and its off to Portland to pick up Orion and rally down to Trinity county for the Cali-Burn Fest! Upon nearing Portland, I get a call from Orion that went something like this:

"Hello"

"Yee haw BRG baby!!"

"F*ck ya dude, I'm almost to Portland, where you at?"

"Dude, I backed a f*ckin bus into my car at the Green Truss put-in!"

"......."

"Wanna meet us in Hood River? I think I blew my radiator."

So, I stopped in Hood, waited for the limping Nissan to show up, and after deciding that it was just the AC crushed, and thankfully not the radiator, we made it to Portland.

After leaving Portland, I semi blacked-out into a caffeine and ecstasy induced haze. (Ecstasy here meaning the feeling of euphoria due to huge amounts of excitement, not the drug.) Next thing i knew, we rolled into Arcata.

Friday: Big Air Comp, Camel Rock.

Well, just as was to be expected from past expereince, the surf at high noon, day of the surf comp, was dismal at best when viewed from the road. However, not to be deterred after so much driving, we geared up and grabbed out creekers for some surfing. As the afternoon wore on, the surf started to build and we made the move south to Moonstone in search of better rides. As usual, Mr. Will Parham was throwing down mad tricks, and Dan Menten caught some nice barrels as Orion and I proceeded to get trounced by the growing waves. In a unanimous vote, Will was named king of the surf.

Hennessy Free-wheel

Burnt Ranch Race:

Saturday dawned sunny and warm, with ample servings of shit-talking for all. I believe I told Orion I was going to boof on his head, which is ironic considering that I ended up being the one getting landed. Rolling into the finish line, I was stoked to be in third place out of the creek boats, and got a little trigger happy when boofing the flake at number 2. I flipped into the right wall, was landed on a few times, rolled up off the wall with no paddle, and after clinging desperately to the light and fresh air, was sucked stern first into the hole.

Thanks to Daniel Brasuel for capturing this moment.

During the next few moments, I had some profoundly clear thought on the topic of Karma, such as, "huh, the kid talking the most shit, is now the one entering that wonderful playland of rodeo swimming". Funny how life works sometimes. But out of it I learned a good lesson, the swim was totally worth it. Out bodies are made up mostly of water, and sometimes that full immersion is just plain good for the soul. As always, the after party was ragin, and the hangover lap the next morning sealed a great weekend on the water.

Big Thanks to Paul Gamache for all his hard work in making this event happen!! And remember, second weekend of October, Burnt Ranch Gorge. Bring your race face, and a cup. You're gonna need it for the kegs at the finish.

Orion Comin' in hot. Notice how the bow is angled for maximum stompage of Martin's face.

(Wes Shrek photo)

Martin about to f it all up. (Wes Shrek photo)

The Crew, post beer slalom, at Hennessy Rapid.