Messing Around in Boats
Two summers ago, the dream of taking a road trip took root in my mind. It took too long for it to come true, but now that it has, all I can think about is when I can do it again.
I think I may be addicted to rivers. In Glasgow, my father and I took a paddle steamer called the Waverly down the River Clyde and out onto the open ocean. We circled Ailsa Craig, a giant dome of rock in the ocean that is covered in nesting seabirds. At home, meanwhile, I live with the LA River, which is a pathetic mess but a still a river. Rachel had researched the location of a wash near our home for her geology class, and I was able to show her exactly where it was. You can’t swim in the Clyde or the LA River, however. The Clyde is too deep, too busy, and too cold, while the LA River is too polluted and too dangerous (flash flood, anyone?) There is a river in Central California, however, that is full of water year round--the Kern.
From what I saw, the Kern River and its source, Lake Isabella, rule over all of Kern County. The 178 freeway takes as many twists and turns as Old Topanga as it follows the river through the Sequoia National Forest (and has taken 225 lives since 1968, according to a sign.) Once we reached the three small towns of Lake Isabella, Wofford Heights, and Kernville, there was not a single place we stopped that was not connected to the water. We got in our bathing suits and tried to stand up in a cold current in Riverside Park--the first time in my life that I swam in a river. On a hiking trail, we met another branching stream. The campground where we stayed the first night was called Tillie Lake, although we were too dubious about the water quality to go into the lake here. (There were dead fish all over the shore, and the frogs seemed to prefer living in the women’s bathroom sink than in the water!)
I was the only person who hadn’t gone river rafting before. I learned that I was wearing the wrong costume--denim takes too long to get dry, and sneakers fill with water--but I could paddle deftly enough and let my senses take everything in. I learned that riverguides all have a very deadpan sense of humor, can cook a mean breakfast, and will let you swim down a rapid or jump off a fifteen foot rock. Charles, my boat’s guide, earned the title of Charles Lunges-at-Turtles when he unexpectedly launched himself out of the boat to catch a very surprised pond turtle with his bare hands.
Having escaped skunk attack and any serious sprains, I just came home with scraped toes, sunburned knees, and a few sore muscles. My whole body wants to go back to the river again . . .
Turkey Vulture
Red-tailed Hawk
Raven
Crow
Brewer’s Blackbird
W. Grebe
Tree Swallow
Oak Titmouse
Phainopepla
Bushtit
Hairy Woodpecker
Acorn Woodpecker
accipiter sp.
Scrub Jay
Black Phoebe
California Quail
Belted Kingfisher
American Dipper
N. Flicker
White-breasted Nuthatch
Wood Duck
Canyon Wren
Great Blue Heron
Mallard
Vaux’s Swift
Anna’s Hummingbird
Canyon Tree Frog aka Bathroom Frogs
W. Fence Lizard
SKUNKTASTIC
Woodrat creature
S. Pacific Pond Turtle (female!)
Bullfrog
I think I may be addicted to rivers. In Glasgow, my father and I took a paddle steamer called the Waverly down the River Clyde and out onto the open ocean. We circled Ailsa Craig, a giant dome of rock in the ocean that is covered in nesting seabirds. At home, meanwhile, I live with the LA River, which is a pathetic mess but a still a river. Rachel had researched the location of a wash near our home for her geology class, and I was able to show her exactly where it was. You can’t swim in the Clyde or the LA River, however. The Clyde is too deep, too busy, and too cold, while the LA River is too polluted and too dangerous (flash flood, anyone?) There is a river in Central California, however, that is full of water year round--the Kern.
From what I saw, the Kern River and its source, Lake Isabella, rule over all of Kern County. The 178 freeway takes as many twists and turns as Old Topanga as it follows the river through the Sequoia National Forest (and has taken 225 lives since 1968, according to a sign.) Once we reached the three small towns of Lake Isabella, Wofford Heights, and Kernville, there was not a single place we stopped that was not connected to the water. We got in our bathing suits and tried to stand up in a cold current in Riverside Park--the first time in my life that I swam in a river. On a hiking trail, we met another branching stream. The campground where we stayed the first night was called Tillie Lake, although we were too dubious about the water quality to go into the lake here. (There were dead fish all over the shore, and the frogs seemed to prefer living in the women’s bathroom sink than in the water!)
I was the only person who hadn’t gone river rafting before. I learned that I was wearing the wrong costume--denim takes too long to get dry, and sneakers fill with water--but I could paddle deftly enough and let my senses take everything in. I learned that riverguides all have a very deadpan sense of humor, can cook a mean breakfast, and will let you swim down a rapid or jump off a fifteen foot rock. Charles, my boat’s guide, earned the title of Charles Lunges-at-Turtles when he unexpectedly launched himself out of the boat to catch a very surprised pond turtle with his bare hands.
Having escaped skunk attack and any serious sprains, I just came home with scraped toes, sunburned knees, and a few sore muscles. My whole body wants to go back to the river again . . .
Turkey Vulture
Red-tailed Hawk
Raven
Crow
Brewer’s Blackbird
W. Grebe
Tree Swallow
Oak Titmouse
Phainopepla
Bushtit
Hairy Woodpecker
Acorn Woodpecker
accipiter sp.
Scrub Jay
Black Phoebe
California Quail
Belted Kingfisher
American Dipper
N. Flicker
White-breasted Nuthatch
Wood Duck
Canyon Wren
Great Blue Heron
Mallard
Vaux’s Swift
Anna’s Hummingbird
Canyon Tree Frog aka Bathroom Frogs
W. Fence Lizard
SKUNKTASTIC
Woodrat creature
S. Pacific Pond Turtle (female!)
Bullfrog