Stand Up Paddle Surfing on the North Shore of Oahu

PNG pirate attack

Jayapura, Indonesia

Originally I planned on flying home from the Island of New Britain, in hind site this is what I should have done. Instead I decided to stay on board a week or so longer and sail to Jayapura, Indonesia where the return airfare was much cheaper. We made an eventful 5 day crossing from New Britain to the mainland where we nearly lost our front stay supporting our mast in a storm and damaged the boat by hitting log at night. We headed to the mainland port of Wewak for parts and needed to clear customs from Papua New Guinea as our 60 day visas were about to expire. We anchored in the small harbor of Wewak, had just made dinner and sat down to a movie when one of the guys heard a noise outside on the boat. Alex, the captain went out for a look and was met face to face with a masked man sporting a homemade pistol (photo below). Two guys carrying an axe and machete rushed toward the door yelling for us to get down. Deciding quickly that he wanted nothing to do with surrender, Chris our East German crew member, managed to wrestle one of the pirates overboard. In what seemed like a flash, the rest of us charged the other two and they fled to their dugout canoes and paddled off. 

Alex and I jumped in the dinghy and quickly caught up with one of the canoes. We captured one of the guys and brought him back to the boat and hog tied him to the transom (above photo). I motored the dinghy across the harbor to a pub and managed after quite some time to get ahold of the police. The security guard at the pub came back to the boat with me and helped me take the thief back to shore. Back at the pub there was a crowd gathering, ready to stone the thief. By the time we got the guy to the police station he had taken a pretty good beating and that was just the beginning of it. 

For the next two hours in a concrete block police barrack I got to witness how the PNG police get info from criminals.  Later that night we had a couple police officers come aboard and stand watch on the boat. One of the police was armed with the dried stingray tail that he used as a whip. 

The next couple of days we dealt with customs, fixed the boat and was quite happy to sail to away from Wewak, PNG.  On the way to Jayapura we anchored in a small bay that had a really nice left hand point break. I spent my last day in PNG surfing with the one and only local guy, probably one of the nicest surfers that I have ever met. He learned to surf on a scrap piece of wood and was given a proper surf board by some visiting french surfers.  That evening of surfing was the perfect ending of the trip.  I am now making the long trip home from Jayapura to Jakarta to Singapore to Tokyo to Portland. Look forward to catching up with you back in the states.

Tropical volcanoes

Rabual, New Britain, Papua New Guinea

Finding internet access in this part of the world is very tricky. Luckily at the fuel dock in Rabual, the Aussie manager offered us use of his satellite internet connection.  I will go into more details when I have more time to write but basically we have had a great sailing adventure in the last 2 months. We have had some nice dives on pristine reefs, with plenty of sharks and large fish. We had a traditional Papua New Guinean christmas with super friendly islanders that rarely get to see white people. I had a very unique New Years Eve spearfishing at night for lobsters and

squid with the locals of a small island in the remote trobrands. 

We explored jungle caves filled with bats and human skulls. Our diet on the trip has been mostly fresh caught fish, rice, fruit and South Pacific beer.

We are now anchored in the most amazing bay with a backdrop of a fully active volcano and several other dormant ones. The bay is littered with hundreds of ship wrecks mostly WWII relics, lots of japanese war ships in 100 ft+ of water. At night I sleep out under the stars on the bow of the boat under a glowing volcano.

 

The time has come however to put a cap on the trip and head back home as the time feels right and I need to find some work. In the next two weeks we head down the north coast of New Britain to dive the reefs of Kimbe bay then I will jump ship and make the slow progression back home to the snows of the Pacific Northwest. 

I cannot say enough of how warm and welcoming the people of Papua New Guinea have been to us. I feel very lucky to be able to spend time in this very different, untouched part of the world.  Here are a few picts to give you a sense of the place.

Sea Kayaking Vancouver Island

Nootka Sound, Vancouver Island, Canada

Having a great time here on the Island, this place is more beautiful than I could have imagined.  We just finished filming in Nootka Sound.  We stayed at a floating cabin in uptopia bay for the last 5 days.    I have managed to get out kiting and wake boarding for fun in the off time from work.  We have been very busy filming, up early for sunrise and late for sunset.  Lots of amazing scenery and wildlife to see.  Last night I had one of the most amazing things happen to me.  I paddled out into the bay at dark and experienced the most amazing phosphorescent light show I have ever seen.  The water was completely full of life and anything that moved lit up and had a sparking trail.  I paddled though schools of herring and the entire water around would light up like an underwater lightning show.  I can’t even do it justice putting what I saw into words.  Later we dove from the deck of the floating house into the pitch black water to watch the light trail that we created while opening our eyes underwater.  Incredible 

Kiteboarding and carnival in Trinidad

Port of Spain, Trinidad

To escape the wet, cold grey weather of Oregon I spent the last month traveling the islands of Trinidad, Tobago and a small portion of the coast of Venezuela.  I visited an old friend, Mike Wagner who has spent the last 4 years working as an Petroleum engineer on the island of Trinidad.  Mike took off some time from work and I toured around the islands hiking, snorkeling and kiteboarding.

Part of the time was spent in Port of Spain, the capital of Trinidad, for the carnival celebration.  Port of Spain is the New Orleans of the Caribbean during Carnival with steal drums, crazy costumes, dancing in the streets, loud music and lots of drinking.  The entire city parties as hard as I have ever seen during the carnival celebration.  The majority of the trip I spent traveling the small, laid back island of Tobago by myself.  The following is a page from my journal while traveling on the island.  

Kite gear in my backpack, I walk down the gravel road from the small Indian guesthouse.  Sun burns my scalp at 8 in the morning, kids play cricket in a nearby field, goats, sheep and chickens pick at random things on the ground.  I catch a lift from a taxi packed full of locals to the public beach on the wind beaten Atlantic side of the island.  The ride costs 50 cents for both myself and my luggage.   My oversize kite bag hangs precariously out of the open trunk of the cab.  I am dropped off with a friendly wave of the hand and proceed to find shade under a coconut tree on the deserted, mostly undeveloped beach.  While waiting for the wind to come up I eat a breakfast of fresh fruit and chocolate.

  The water is brilliant blue to the horizon and waves break a mile out on the reef.  The wind picks up to an acceptable level around 10 am. I pump up my kite and self launch in the sand.  I am alone except for a few local kids playing in the waves just down the beach.  I power up the kite and head out into the sea through the waist high shore break.  The water is milky blue from a mixture of sand, wind and waves until I reach the reef and everything becomes crytal clear.  I pass by a sea turtle that quickly ducks under the surface as I approach.  Moments later I pass a slow moving plastic bag fish, a common site to most third world beaches.   Just ahead of me the ocean’s swell approaches and makes contact with the shallow reef.  The swell is quickly transformed into a see-through wall of water head high that approaches quickly.  I turn my kite into the opposite direction and carve a turn on the wall, throwing a fan of spray into the air.  Wind and gravity both pull me down the face of the wave as it breaks quickly behind me.  Time stops and I feel like a small child with not a single care in the whole world.  

Africa/ Chile whitewater tour

Mosier, OR

Nearly 100 hours of flying and layovers and I am back home after a whirlwind tour of some of the best bigwater playboating rivers in the world.  The trip started off with a 14 hour layover in Paris on new years eve.  I bought a metro pass and sampled the best pastry and coffee shops while checking out the amazing art and architecture that Paris is famous for. 

 

Tired as hell I slept all the way to Johannesburg where I met up with Eric Jackson.  We caught a flight to Livingston Z

ambia to start our paddling and filming adventure on the Zambezi River.  On my last trip to Africa I was on a budget and stayed in a cheap hostel, dorm style room, barely getting sleep because of the heat and sleeping under mosquito nets.  This time would be different, EJ had worked a sponsorship deal with the Zambezi Sun, a four star hotel located on the edge of Victoria Falls.  This is where we based for the next 11 days, filming with Jay Kincaid, Jessie Stone, and Clay Wright.  I must say I have never had it so easy on a paddling trip. 

 Our days went as follows; wake up in a cold air conditioned room under lots of blankets, walk to the restaurant for coffee, custom made omelets and waffles, carry boating gear through the hotel gate past the lip of Victoria falls, down a jungle trail past monkeys to the put in below the falls.  We then paddled and filmed all day, surfed huge waves and were met by porters at the take out and shuttled us back to the hotel.  We then went swimming in the pool or sat on the deck above the falls drinking beers an

d watching hippos and crocs while monkeys steal our beer nuts.  

After a buffet style dinner that usually included fillet, crocodile tail, impala and some local fish, we would all stumble back to our air conditioned rooms, log the footage of the day and then fall asleep. 

 Of course we had to deal with 100 degree+ heat in a black rock canyon and malarial mosquitoes, but the good far outweighed the bad.  

During our stay the water steadily rose a total of 1 meter and we saw rapids change and surf waves come and go.  On our final day of paddling the Zambezi Clay ran rapid 9 containing one of the biggest, unavoidable holes on the river.  As he dropped in to the trough of the hole his 

bow was violently kicked up into his face breaking his nose.  I didn't even know what happened until I saw him laying on the rocks at the bottom with blood all over his face.  

Jessie cleaned him up nicely and as we paddled to the take out I saw clay pull a couple big kickflips to show that it wasn't so bad. 

We then packed up our bags and caught a flight to Uganda to paddle the White Nile River. 

 Clay now looked like he had been severely beaten in a fist fight with a crooked nose and two black eyes.  We would point at Jessie anytime someone would ask what happened.  The section of river that we kayaked is only a couple miles from the source of the Nile draining Lake Victoria.  Everything about the area was different from Zambia, we were very close to the equator and all around the river was

 thick jungle.  The river was very open and braided similar to the Ottawa or Slave with many channels and options when paddling down stream.  It was almost impossible to scout rapids due to the jungle and some channels were fully class 5 while others were mellow.  We got hooked up with Nile River Explorers, a rafting company with a great camp spot located at the put in of the upper run.  The five of us shared a cramped room with bunk beds and no mosquito nets.  The rafting company cooked all of our m

eals and dealt with our shuttles. 

Standing in the open air bar overlooking the Nile River, the bartender told me that he had malaria 30 times in the 5 years he had lived there.  Moments later a raft guide 

stumbled in and told us that he was presently sick with malaria. 

That night after dinner some friends from another camp invited us to do a night surf on a big wave lit up by headlights from a truck.  Clay and I meet up with Rusty Sage and Andrew Holcomb and surfed for several hours and had a great time.   The next morning EJ didn't get out of bed and was showing the classic signs of Malaria.  A very bad headache, hot and cold sweats and could even get out of bed.   Jessie immediately treated him with malaria medicine and he slowly recovered the following 5 days not having enough strength to paddle the river.  Two days following EJ's sickness, Steve Fisher was sicker than anyone I have ever seen.   One morning we were paddling and filming and by that night Steve was rapped in sleeping bags shivering in 85 degree temp, pasty white and not responding.  Neither EJ or Steve toke the preventative malarial drug for the reason that its about as bad for your body as getting malaria itself. 

The rest of us paddled the river everyday and had a absolute blast.   The river felt bigger than the Zambezi and had an amazing playspot in nearly every rapid.   Between Jay, Clay, Rusty and Andrew I saw some amazing rides and aerial moves.  The very last rapid on the upper section is located at the take out and is the longest and hardest of the day.  I watched Andrew run the rapid and catch the corner of one of the wave holes throwing one of the biggest aerial blunts of the trip.  

Getting out on the side of the rapids to film was more dangerous than running the rapids by far.  Everywhere it was thick jungle crawling with pit vipers and poisonous spiders.   The video boaters that work the river say they regularly see black mambas and cobras.  I ran into one cobra in the water that was super aggressive and not at all afraid of me,  I was glad not to see any on land.  

After the Nile I jumped on the plane and flew back home just long enough to do laundry and repack my bags for southern Chile and the Futa.  I met Jessie Stone in Puerto Montt and we caught a ride in an old 6 seater airplane through a bad storm to the tiny town of Chietan.  After a short 6 hr overloaded bus ride, South American style, I met up with a slew of Canadians including Ken Whiting, Tyler Curtis, Chad Hitchins to do more filming.  When I arrived the water was so high many people weren't paddling and one group had a flush drowning fatality in Terminator rapid.  Our group packed a bus and headed for the drier eastern 

side of the Andes in Argentina.  We stayed a night in the resort town of Barraloche and had one of the best steak dinners of my life.  The next day we ran a section of the manzo 

and then camped in Esquel.  This section of Argentina is very beautiful and well worth the trip for the steak alone.

Back on the Futa the weather turned sunny and the rain stopped.  We paddled everyday and caught new playspots as the water slowly became lower.  Ken is partners with Chad, Kevin Varrette, James Mcbeth and local land owner Louis Toro.  We stayed at their beautiful camp along the Futa in the middle of a great stretch of whitewater and towering mountain peaks.

  The boating was amazing but I must say that the highlight of the trip was climbing a local peak named the tres monjas (three nuns).  As all fun adventures start, Paul Harwood, Laura Hopkins and I decided to do the climb at breakfa

st and by lunch time we had backpacks packed, sitting on the side of the road thumbing a ride to get closer to the peak.  We climbed 3500 ft to a beautiful ledge and a windless and rainless night.  

 The next morning we woke and climbed through a very old high alpine forest, racing oncoming clouds.  By the time we made it up the scree and onto the rocky peaks we were at the base of the clouds with a spectacular view of the Andes range from Argentina to the coast.  We didn't completely summit but got as far as we could without ropes.   After a 5200 ft decent to the river we sat on the edge of the futa and had a most amazing lunch of crackers, cheese and salami.

    

I am back in Oregon now editing videos,enjoying home life and patiently waiting for the wind to blow.

A long night in the jungle

Tena, Ecuador

It had been raining hard all night and we woke to a steamy hot morning in Tena Ecuador.  Four months prior EJ and I began making plans to shoot an instructional video to supplement his kayaking strokes and concepts book.  We decided that Ecuador would be a great location due to the many warm, beautiful rivers and the deep green jungle backdrop.  Eric Jackson, Danny Stock, Jessie Stone and myself had been working for 5 days straight filming the video, and we were ready for a break.  After a long breakfast and lazy morning we flagged down a truck taxi and headed to the Lower Missiualli River, a short 15 min ride from the town of Tena.   Even though we got the classic late start to the river I felt that we had plenty of time to complete the run.  I had done the run several times before, from high to low water, solo, and never had any problems.   This 10 miles section traversed through thick jungle containing big water playboating and a sketchy class 5 broken waterfall that involves a tricky portage toward the end of the run.  At the put in we watched as several dugout canoes made perfect ferries, bringing fruit and people from one side of the river to the other. Our playboats were a crazy contrast to their long, narrow boats and how they stood perfectly balanced in the back, polling across the river.  Out in the water, EJ pulled off his patented flatwater front loop over another kayak showing off to the natives.  The river at the put in was surprisingly low considering the heavy rains the night before, but with every tributary the level increased.  At the beginning of the gorge we paddled below a falls several hundred feet tall falling from the jungle directly into the river.  The wind from the falls was so strong that it almost blew the paddles out of our hands.  The river picked up more and more power the further we paddled and I realized that waves I had surfed at high water before were now blown out.  We finally made it to the waterfall where it was quit evident that the water was very high and that the portage was going to be difficult.  Two landslides had now narrowed the river increasing the flow of water over the falls.  The old portage line that followed river level was under boulders and was much harder and dangerous than before.  To make matters worse, the eddy at the end of the portage where we normally lower our boats into was completely blown out, allowing no way of putting back in.   I remembered hearing talk about a portage through the jungle around the cliffed out gorge surrounding the waterfall but I had no idea where the trail began.  15 feet from the rivers edge the jungle grew thick and nearly impenetrable with not a trail in site.   Danny who spends almost all of his time training slalom commented that he had never done a real portage around a rapid.  EJ snickered and said this was not going to be an everyday portage and to get ready for a long haul.  I glanced at my watch as we left the falls and it was 3 o’clock, 3 and a half hours of light left to complete the portage and the rest of the run, no problem I thought.  We all started carrying our boats up the bank into the jungle and within 15 min of slipping and sliding, pulling our boats through thick vines and trees, EJ found a trail of footprints and machete marks leading up the steep muddy bank.  After several hundred feet straight up, the trail started to fade so we bushwhacked downstream in the ultimate direction.   After about an hour of doing battle with the jungle, we ran into another well-worn trail that continued up a ridgeline.  It seemed we where getting a quick lesson in vertical jungle orienteering, whether we liked it or not.   The trail we followed took us nearly 500 ft above the river and I decided that we where to high, probably following a trail the natives used to access the gorge.   We all came to the decision to drop our boats, down climb and backtrack, looking for a way through the cliffs to the river.  We all split up and followed different drainages but everything seemed to cliff out straight down to the river.  Upon reconvening we realized the only thing to do was to continue on the trail hoping that it would hit a major drainage that would successfully take us back down to the river.  We needed something positive to happen soon or we were looking at spending the night in the jungle.  At this point we had each drank most of our water with about a quarter of a liter left between the 4 of us.  For food we had two cans of tuna, a bag of chocolates and a half bag of Doritos.  

The sun fell fast and quickly engulfed us into darkness.  We quickly arranged our boats on the hillside in a way that would be most comfortable to sleep on for the night.  Jessie commented that we should probably eat a can of tuna before we sleep but we were all so thirsty that the idea didn’t sound inviting.  I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and wasn’t hungry in the slightest from all the hard work and dehydration. 

I knew if I didn’t eat something I would surely bonk the next day. We all passed around the can of tuna in the dark and forced down a chunk each.  At our present position we were within 50 miles of the equator, with nearly equal amounts of light and darkness each day no matter what time of year.  So here it was 6:30 pm, totally dark and we knew that we had 12 hrs of sitting in the dark, able to do nothing for our situation.  

The night was long and we kept ourselves busy telling each other every story and joke that we could remember.  We watched all the footage that I had shot on my camera and still we had much time to kill.  The night was so pitch black that even though Jessie and I where sitting side by side I couldn’t see her in the slightest.  Sleeping consisted of dosing for what seemed like a couple of minutes before waking quickly to swat at a mosquito or some other crawling, biting insect.  Mostly we sat listening to the millions of nocturnal animals, birds and bug sounds surrounding us, waiting for the first sign of light.   I noticed that EJ didn’t talk much at all that night and thought that he was able to fall asleep for most of the night.  This was not the case when the next day EJ told me that he was so thirsty that he couldn’t talk and besides he couldn’t understand a thing not being able to read lips. 

As the sun rose we eagerly jumped up, ate some chocolates, took one gulp of the remaining water and started hauling our boats up the steep trail.  Our goal was to climb up the ridge and down into another drainage that we guessed would take us back to the river.  As we climbed out of the gorge we realized that the only way was straight up or down due to the extremely steep terrain all around us and lack of a

 machete.  After several hours of hauling boats we finally made it to what seemed like the top of the gorge and to a clearing. We were all excited to have a break from the dense jungle but instead the clearing was a clear cut of downed trees and brush piles making the jungle look like a walk in the park.  We all split up and walked the perimeter of the clear-cut looking for a trail or road.  EJ found a spring with what looked like suitable drinking water, and I found the continuing trail.   We thought about the water quality of the spring for about a second before our thirst gave way and we all drank.  The heat was intense and we all were dangerously dehydrated and drained of energy.  We continued slowly up the trail that wound through small banana fields and after some time lead us to a small cluster of jungle huts.  There were obvious signs that indigenous people lived in the dwellings but no one was around at the moment.  After a short break we split up to sample the network of trails around the huts and look for someone that could give us directions through the maze of trails.  EJ returned from his trail and told Jessie and I that it petered out into a nasty nettle thicket.   As we waited for Danny we realized that the huts had a rainwater collection system and a 55-gallon drum of fresh clean water.  We all drank about a liter each of the best water I have ever tasted and ate some food.  We waited and waited and Danny never returned.  I went down the trail to look for him and rather quickly ran into another series of trails all leading in different directions into unknown jungle.  I returned telling the others that it was most possible that Danny had gotten lost.  We split up and followed the trails looking for Danny or anyone that might be able to help us.  The trails where all heavily traveled with deep mud,

 impossible to follow footprints.  After a half hour of walking we all meet back up and found a young indigenous boy of about 13 walking down the trail carrying a gun.  We asked him if he had seen another gringo that morning and he told us that he had indeed spoken with Danny and given him the direction to the road.  We offered to pay the boy if he would guide us to the road and also to carry Danny’s abandoned kayak.  He eagerly said yes, grabbed the boat and then hurried down the trail at a pace that was difficult to keep up.  After an hours walk we arrived at the boys home and where greeted by 20 + members of his family.  They told us to put down our kayaks and come into the hut for something to eat and drink.   We all sat down on benches in a large open room in the main hut and talked in our broken Spanish with the people in a very friendly atmosphere.  They told us that they had seen Danny earlier and he was trying to ask them questions in English.  Danny was fully aware that very few people in Ecuador speak English, he had surely become delirious if he thought the indigenous people would know what he was talking about.   The people of the jungle speak Quichua as their first language and only use Spanish when they need to. We were worried for his safety with the possibility of him passing out in the middle of the jungle from dehydration. 

The family treated us very warmly asking us all about our adventure and seemed very impressed that we had carried our heavy boats all the way from the river.   The eldest women sat at a small fire in the corner of the room cooking yucca, eggs, and frying bananas in a pan.  Two small children came up to us and showed us their proud baby pet Toucan.  A younger woman handed me a bowl of white liquid called chicha, welcoming us to the house and motioned for me to take a drink.  I knew that the drink was special to them and that I would offend the family if I didn’t drink.  So I gulped a mouthful, forced down the sour, thick, alcoholic liquid almost gagging as I passed the bowl to EJ.  To my surprise EJ grabbed the bowl not knowing what it was and took 3 large gulps and then passed it on to Jessie with a smile.  Jessie toke the bowl and gulped as well but not as eager.  Later that day I described to EJ and Jessie the process in which the indigenous people of South America make this popular drink.  The women of the household take pieces of yucca root in their mouths and chew for a while then spit the mixture into a bowl; the chunks are then mashed, strained and the remaining liquid is left to ferment.  This liquid is brought out to drink at special occasions similar to the way we would bust out a special bottle of wine. 

The food and rest helped restore our energy and we told the family that we must head for the road and search for our lost friend.  They offered two more brothers to help carry our boats the rest of the way to the road.  We thanked them, said goodbye and headed down the trail for the final hour and a half walk to the road.   The trail was the driveway for the family, their route for hauling fruit on their backs into town to sell at the weekend market.   The trail was super muddy and sometimes we would sink well up to our shines in the slimy mud.  After what seemed like a long hot walk we made it to the road where we paid and said goodbye to our new friends.  The forty dollars that we gave them for their help was probably 3 times the money they normally make after a hard days work and they where very gracious.   The bus arrived and we loaded our kayaks on top eagerly taking seats for the half hour bus ride back to town.  As we rode we reflected on the last two days, agreeing that the trip was a grueling two-day biathlon adventure in jungle.   We arrived in town hoping that Danny had made it back by himself and would be there to greet us.  Instead we were greeted by our friend Gynner who, laughing aloud, told us that Danny had made it back safely, fueled up in town and then headed back to the jungle to find us.  It turns out that when Danny split up from us in the jungle he was in fact delirious and decided to find the road on this own and go for help.  When he reached the boy all he could ask with his limited Spanish was the direction to the road to Tena.  Somehow in a delusional state he weaved through the network of trails and found the road.   He then jumped on a bus 

by accident in the wrong direction realized that he had no money with him. He then jumped off the bus without paying, realized he was in the wrong town and then hired a cab for the hour ride back to Tena promising to pay upon reaching the hotel.  In Tena he ate food, took a shower and then realized that he must go back to the jungle to save us.  He hired a cab to take him back to the trail and set out looking for us.  Somehow we didn’t cross paths and he walked for another hour up the trail before someone motioned to him that we where at the road.  That night in Tena we all had a big laughs over a pizza dinner and gave Danny continuous amounts of shit for abandoning us in the jungle.  Safe and sound we all agreed that our recent experience was better than any jungle trek tourist money could buy in Ecuador.  

 

Lessons learned in the jungle….  

Duct tape is no substitute for a pants.

All rivers should be given equal amounts of respect regardless of the class or experience of the group.

It doesn’t hurt to carry a machete in your playboat as part of the safety gear.