Adventures with Extreme Things (original) (raw)

I never got around to posting more photos and blabber about the Rafting trip in June. I intend to remedy that right now.

I have been on a fair number of Extreme Things activities/trips (probably approaching 20 or so) and they have always been fun and very rewarding (even Strawberry Peak which beat me like a bitch), but the Kern Rafting Trip is likely the most fun I have had yet. I don't know if the astral bodies happened to align perfectly that weekend or if that combination of calendar numbers ignited my joy chakra; but I was constantly in high spirits, bursting with energy, and having a great time all weekend.

Our camp site was directly in the blazing Sun—that weekend was relentless, but the awe-inspiring white-water river nearby more than compensated. We lounged around on immense rocks, explored, foolishly swam through rapids, and tubed. The next day brought the main event, 3-4 trips down separate areas of the River Kern. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time. It whet my appetite for rafting. I certainly plan on returning next year, although I want to up the stakes—class 5. I'd love to try out white-water kayaking as well.

The weekend saw the birth of a running gag that may never die—Team Sausage—the best damn rafting team the Kern has ever seen. There were numerous high points to the weekend, but nothing can top the look on Karl's face after being launched from our raft into a roaring rapid. That's when my smile was the widest.

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Earlier this month, I spent a lot of time hiking to natural bodies of water and leaping off of various rocks into the pools. Malibu Creek State Park has a nice pool surrounded by canyon walls you can leap off ranging from 15-50 feet (more if you don't value your life). My highest leap was about 35 feet. There is a photo in this set of a few guys leaping from about 50 feet. I'd like to give that a try eventually, but the somewhat shallow water and nearby rock scared me off.

Another spot we hit was the Punchbowls in Ojai. Another natural pool you can leap into. Somewhere near where we swam is a natural waterfall you can slide down. I definitely want to return and find that.

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Today, Erika and I tried out something called orienteering, best described by Wikipedia as "a sport that combines racing with navigation using a map and compass." Karl of Extreme Things set up the event and a number of us split into teams and trekked through a wilderness park seeking 13 digital markers hidden in a variety of locations and types of terrain. It was an enjoyable experience that I would love to expand upon by introducing more exciting elements—caves, raging rivers, rock-climbing, etc. Apparently there is a 24-hour Orienteering event. That could be something worth checking out.

I've been relatively silent for the last couple of months. Thus, it's time to play catch-up. Here is what has been going on between April and the present.

I have often said that once genetic splicing attains maturity I want a prehensile tail and monkey-hand-feet grafted to my DNA. I like to climb things. It's one of my favorite hobbies. Thus, the Extreme Things rock-hop through Malibu Creek State Park was an event I eagerly anticipated.

We headed into the park, leapt a fence, and hopped our way across huge boulders and streams. Karl's description read: "Surrounded by picturesque hills, forests, and sheer rocky cliffs, our route will follow a canyon stream in the heart of Malibu Creek State Park, accessing areas that are almost never frequented by hikers. This off-trail adventure will include rock hopping, scrambling on all fours (relying on both legs and arms for support), and traversing over low angled rock face above 10-feet deep water (no current)." His description was accurate and encompasses how we spent a few hours. During the rock-face traverse, I lost my grip and fell into the water, as did a few others. It felt great. At the end of the trek, we were welcomed by a enclosed pond where we will return in July for the annual "pool" party. There was one unforeseen ocurrence unfortunately. During a staggered scramble down a steep slope, a loose rock bashed open the finger of a guest. She was a hell of a trooper. Karl bandaged her finger and she continued on with nary a complaint. Later she would need stitches and discover her finger was broken. Despite this, she is recommending the club to others because she had such a great time. Climbing rocks is so fun, even a bashed up finger won't stop some people.

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I've been relatively silent for the last couple of months. Thus, it's time to play catch-up. Here is what has been going on between April and the present.

I had been looking forward to May 31st for a long time. Canyoneering (also called Canyoning) is a sport involving technical descents into canyons. Karl, of Extreme Things organized an introduction to the sport for a few of us to try. In our case, Canyoneering would mean rappelling down waterfalls ranging in height from 15 feet to 90 feet.

We met our guides that Saturday morning and headed towards Mount Baldy. For the next six or so hours, we would make our way down 6 waterfalls, each with its own personality. Rappelling is an exciting sport for a variety of reasons. You must fight some of your natural survival instincts. Each descent begins with a backwards walk over the edge of a cliffside. You stand at roughly 90 degrees pushing yourself away from the mountainside. Your only support is a rope sliding between your hands and safety gear. Your body naturally wants to collapse and pull itself towards the cliffside. You have to fight that urge, otherwise your descent will be highly uncomfortable and difficult.

The views were beautiful. The rappels were exciting, often frightening. The water was ice-cold. Our third descent brought us beneath a torrent of frigid falling water. It was exhilarating, disorienting, cold, and scary. It was a triumph, the sort of activity that teaches you about yourself and boosts your confidence. Erika had difficulty with the first two rappels. This one was the most treacherous—90 feet through an ice-cold waterfall. She was scared, reluctant. After conquering it, her morale soared and she started to really enjoy herself. Three more falls to go, a dropping Sun, and dropping temperatures. We were all looking forward to them.

We would end the day cold and drenched.
I can't wait to do it again.

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I've been relatively silent for the last couple of months. Thus, it's time to play catch-up. Here is what has been going on between April and the present.

In early May, Extreme Things decided to slow things down a bit and hike down into Rustic Canyon. This isn't to say we had no fun or we took it easy. There were still plenty of steep inclines and off-trail hiking. The end of our descent brought us upon the ruins of Murphy Ranch, a defunct Nazi-sympathizer camp. We explored the ruins and ate lunch in an abandoned house with a large dented water tower (Danger Dan was the only one brave enough to climb it). We then slid into the woods and followed the river, leaving the decay of American Nazis buried behind us.

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I've been relatively silent for the last couple of months. Thus, it's time to play catch-up. Here is what has been going on between April and the present.

After being beaten by the unrelenting Strawberry Peak, I accompanied Extreme Things for an overnight backpacking excursion into the Sheep Mountain Wilderness. I had a newly purchased Camelbak, four quarts of water, ample foodstuffs, water shoes, a light tent, and everything else Erika and I would need. This time I would be prepared. Unfortunately, neither Erika or me were well-versed in the multitudes of backpacking sleeping bags. While everyone else could compress their sleeping bags down to the size of a football, we lugged oversized cottony Swiss-cake rolls six miles into the wilderness (as you'll see in the photos). The learning never ends.

The hike brought us back down the path to the Bridge to Nowhere. We continued past it heading deeper into the mountains. By nightfall, our group of over a dozen squeezed multiple tents into a small area overlooking the mild rapids of the river. I quickly regretted my decision to leave behind a jacket as temperatures plummeted with the setting sun. My regrets paled in comparison to Karl's after his drunken stumble into the ice-cold river after midnight. We had a great time joking around and dining on mediocre camp food while admiring two of our group cooking carne asada, rice, and later, eggs. I am awaiting the debut of his outdoors cooking program any day now.

The next morning we all hiked six miles back to our cars. Our hike was probably considerably more enjoyable than the man we met earlier who had gashed open his knee after slipping on a rock. My highlight was an uncomfortable deposit beneath some bushes along the river's edge.

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I've been relatively silent for the last couple of months. Thus, it's time to play catch-up. Here is what has been going on between April and the present.

Strawberry Peak broke me like a little bitch. Back in mid-April, I went with Extreme Things on a hike to Strawberry Peak. Karl's description began, "Flowing canyon stream, waterfalls, panoramic views of the surrounding mountains, serious rock scrambling, and a stunning peak climb..." These are all things I like. Rock scrambling ranks up top among my favorite pass-times. His description continued, "Although the distance to the Peak is only 3 miles, it is hard-fought with 2,860 feet of elevation gain including the infamous last mile which, in several places requires rock scrambling (using hands and feet to move up the mountain) and non-technical rock climbing. At long last, our efforts will be rewarded with stunning views all the way to the horizon from this Strawberry Peak..." Sounds good. Sign me up. I did.

I have never been good with intense heat. I dehydrate easily (I think it got worse after taking Accutane as a teen). I grew up in Louisiana where a max "elevation gain" would have measured in the dozens instead of the thousands. I hike up mountains fairly frequently, but I'm still not completely accustomed to the air pressure difference. April 13th arrived. 98 degrees Fahrenheit. I made the mistake of taking ONE liter of water. I also made the mistake of not wearing an ankle brace despite repeatedly twisting my ankle over the prior weekends. I was under the false assumption it had healed completely. Most of the hike was uphill in the Sun. The river receded quickly behind us. I was out of water a third of the way in (2 miles). Four more miles to go. I started out strong, but fell to pieces long before the halfway point. Luckily, some others in the group shared water with me. By the time we reached the rock scrambling near the top (my favorite part), I was too exhausted to enjoy it. On the way back, I took a tumble and twisted my ankle hard. I was suffering from heat exhaustion and limping, but I made it to the end.

It took a few days for my body to recuperate. Shortly thereafter, I bought a Camelbak with a three liter hydration pack. Now I always bring twice the water I expect to need.

The nice thing about Extreme Things is the events often teach me and others that we are capable of more than we may anticipate. It also humbles us when we get arrogant and under estimate the power of nature.

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Below are links to past Extreme Things entries made in my personal journal:

Flying
More Caving
Busy Weekend
Mine Cave Exploration

Other Personal Outdoors Entries that may be of interest, but aren't necessarily related to Extreme Things Adventure Club.

Saturday, a hike I have been anticipating for months finally came to fruition — The Bridge to Nowhere. In the 1930s a bridge was built in the wilderness north of Azusa intending to connect two under-construction roads. A flood washed them out and now decades later we have a bridge in the middle of nowhere (or the Sheep Mountain Wilderness if you prefer) people like to leap off attached by a bungee. A dozen of us set out under the leadership of Karl, head of Extreme Things. Before us was a 9-10 mile round-trip hike with multiple river crossings and some rock-scrambling. There was also a wild-card, a poodle named Max would be coming along. He would become a small furry ballast for some river crossers.

The hike was great. We crossed the river roughly ten times and I never grew tired of it despite its frigid and often turgid waters. Its depth ranged from shin to waist deep. I would love to return, hike to the bridge, then kayak back. At one point we were greeted with the option to cross via an overturned tree acting as a small bridge. Miles away was the actual bridge where we stopped for lunch and some exploring. It rises dozens of feet above the river. For a fee a Bungee group will let you leap off, bounce a few times, then reel you back in. In the future, I may give it a try.

The hike took us about three hours longer than anticipated, but it was time well spent. I'll gladly return multiple times in the future. Patrick even made it back in time to meet his date.

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