WEEKEND IN LONDON   October 2013

A trip to London can be a life changing  experience, as I was to find out recently,  your senses can reach sensory overload when they are  bombarded with the constant excitement of the wild attractions of the place.
I am never my best at four thirty in the morning,  but I could not see how it could be avoided with all the necessary details this little expedition would require.
I had readied most of the equipment the night before, so loading the car was easy enough, I did some  aerobic exercise to warm up and then ate quickly before heading for the door.
Watching the sun come up over the sierras is always something which will never lose its luster for me and this morning was no exception, a lightning storm was playing over the summits which meant it was raining heavily on the Atlantic slope of changuinola, the sky was washed out,  the pressure low, here this could mean literally anything to be honest.
I made the small town of Gualaca quickly and started up the Changuinola Road which leads to Bocas de Toro,  heading for the 800 meter mark, which would signal the turn off for the pueblo of Londres ( London). The view opened up as the car climbed up the slopes,  the richly vegetated ridges and valleys dropped  away to the pacific coast behind me.

I turned down the dirt road heading east and was soon in four wheel drive, the clay base had been mixed with stones for traction and apart from the land slipped sections it was not too bad, climbing and dropping steadily to the bulldozer contoured terrain.

The traffic to London was light enough at this hour, as with all hours here,  though I had to wait for some cattle to be herded by local vaqueros (cattlemen) into a corral.  After some four kilometres or so I arrived at a gate at the top of a ridge,  the view was stunning,  the whole mountainside was laid out before me,  the Cerro Chorcha to the North east, its summit shrouded in cloud,  the headwaters of the the Rio Gualaca my destination.
I unloaded the kayak from the roof and packed the equipment I would need into it,  the all important overnight bag,  in case the river rose or I would not be able to get out today.  Like most people I have to be at work Monday morning which makes me a weekend warrior and so I try and plan accordingly.  Food a machete ( absolutely essential hereabouts), a rope, a couple of tee shirts, windproof jacket, cameras a neoprene shirt, along with the rest of the kayaking equipment.  I have everything ready and note the altitude on the watch 750 meters,  Its about two kilometres to the put in and although there is a track,  its impassable to all but a battle tank.
I start off by carrying the kayak but luckily there is a field alongside the dirt track  and as it is dropping away steeply I can slide the kayak down ahead of me on the wet grasses easily enough,( to avoid snakes) the cattle are not impressed.

I had found this spot using google Earth and maps, it is not on the tourist guides,  so the locals are not used to seeing people from outside, much less with a kayak, (whatever that is) so when a campesino (farmer) with horse approached a curt “hola” was said and the look of stony disbelief passed his face,  and he quickly moved on.
The plan was to put in at the quebrada at Londres the second branch of three creeks (quebrada means creek in Spanish) of which two unified  lower down some 750 meters from the crossing point,  and the third at a little over a kilometre.
I got to the first quebrada and there was a healthy flow, it had rained the night before,  I had gauged this as too steep although the flow is greater than the second and is kayak-able at grade five.
Realizing that using the rope suspension bridge to get the boat across was pushing my luck, I was able too ford with a little difficulty, at this point unfortunately I had to carry the boat another 500 meters to the second creek, the Quebrada Londres, a little lower down at 430 meters altitude.
I met some locals with horses and I explained what I was doing, it was not difficult to read their minds, their conclusion simple enough, he is mad and probably not going to survive the day ( a fairly logical train of events considering ). Their  description of the river was, “hay Un gran cantidad de rocas grandes y muy poco Agua“. There are a lot of large rocks and not much water, (not true, there was lots of water and lots of large rocks as I was to find out).
I was covered in sweat by the time I Finally reached the put in.
A second more robust suspension bridge of steel cable had been erected here, the materials for a steel decked bridge lay abandoned all around a common sight  here in the mountains.
The creek  dropped steeply,  the flow was not yet that great, just kayak-able in fact,  kitting up in the morning cool, I reflected on the many manifestations of madness and what drives us too do this sort of thing when I could be in a warm and welcome bed with a fuzzy head from having passed a fun night for example.
I did more warm up exercises, no one was around and for that I was grateful, the water was welcomingly cool and restored a little vitality.
There is always that moment for me when the theory ends and reality is staring one in the face,  The moment of decision,  that defining moment before any undertaking of any worth,  a journey of a thousand miles,  a worn but absolutely solid Zen proverb. If you bend and go back you will not suffer for it,  but you will not know what life can be.
If you jump off it may not go well,  there are no guarantees, or you may be able to reach out and grab a small piece of something special and which can never be taken away,  like true gold you never know where you are going to find it.
The month is October chosen because it’s the wettest month of the year and a Google maps dry season photo shows the river to be pretty bony, the altitude is now reading 440 meters on my watch.
I start off by running to the right, shortly I am pinned above a meter and a half  waterfall,  it’s a ridiculous start, a great deal of energy is expended to overbalance the kayak to my favour and after that it all figuratively goes downhill,  the kayak slides down a 6 meter rock slide and I come to a stop in the pool below.

I spend a lot of time scouting the steep sections ahead one at a time, clambering down over the slippery worn boulders keeping an eye out for snakes, they are not commonly seen,  but it’s a case of  if you make the mistake,  so it pays to be watchful.  Each section is run in matters of seconds and minutes, the creek is dropping at 70 meters per kilometer and all the moves are must make,  solid grade 5.
I watch the altitude unwinding on my watch at an impressive rate.
At one point right above a difficult super steep crux section I get the paddle caught in an overhead vine and it takes some contortions to brace out of that one.
The place is delightful, the intertwining forest overhangs the creek, although London is cattle country, it is of rustic fields recently cut, mixed with jungle,  just a little higher up the cloud Forest takes over and very little habitation remains, it’s the domain of the Jaguar, Jaguarundi, and Puma,  birds abound.
I reach the first union with the western creek branch and the volume more than doubles as it heads into a steep sustained grade 5 section, it is possible to porter some 300 meters through a field to the left and I decide to take the soft option, I feel a little ashamed but the weather is clouding up above and I know it will take a long time to safely get myself through this stretch.

Originally I had noted on the map that the whole trip from London down to a second bridge river crossing was some seven kilometres and the river dropped 240 meters, excellent some 35 meters per kilometer,  no problem, the reality was the first kilometer drops close to 70 meters and the second more than 50 meters.  This tended to spice things up a bit.
I drag the kayak down the field and get back to the river just above where the third quebrada (creek) joins. Taking a break to eat a little guayaba a thick sugary fruit bar that is common here, it gives me instant energy.
A boof over a four foot waterfall and I instantly  feel the power of the third quebrada, I catch an eddy left and get out to scout the next section.
From here its solid grade 4+ with little respite, very quick and brutish kayaking, aggressive and forceful with plenty of must make moves, big stoppers and holes abound, each section run is 200 to 300 meters and one rapid is leading directly into the next with hardly a break,  fun and terrible at the same time.
I pull out on the right bank above a steep powerful section which curves off around a bend lower down, as there are no eddies I must scout this.
The Forrest is dense but there is a small fishing trail which I follow, the weather is thickening up and its 11am, here one needs to be ready to be off the rivers as early as 1pm as the afternoon rains come quickly and with force.
The section proves run-able though  grade 4+ with this volume, its long and powerful with no exit.
I choose a line mostly to the right crossing left for a powerful hydraulic on the right hand side,  I get caught in a big hole in the middle of the river. I surf and surf,  it’s not letting me out that easily, so I surf brace and catch a forward stroke repeating the procedure moving forward to the edge of the hole, I overbalance upriver and come out laying flat on the surface and managing to sweep upright in time to charge down the next section, finally managing to eddy  out on the right hand side.
The adrenaline is now coursing and I am literally shaking,  must rest up a while, laying down to control the breathing. This river is giving and giving,  it’s a wild thing.

The first raindrops fall and I can see its already raining further up the mountain so time to move, another steep section and I start to run on sight at grade 4 and 4+, things are happening quick enough now I stop only to adjust a camera or drink and eat something.
The kayaking is fast and furious and I am in the zone now,  it is all flowing together, I feel fantastic I know I am going to make each rapid as I enter it and this is the moment to  live for.
I get spun around and enter a small waterfall backwards,  getting stuck in a stopper in mid rapid, close to the bank but miles from it,  I see a handhold on  a rock and am able to pull myself out backwards to finish the whole thing looking upstream.
The river drops to grade 3 and I see its at 230 meters altitude now, I’ve dropped more than 200 meters in less than 4 kilometers. Some large conduit piping appears on the banks to the left signaling that I have intersected  a track lower down,  I think it is all over though the water level has risen with the rain.
I negotiate a bend and ahead the river squeezes down through a small canyon.  Pulling out to the left I see that it’s a  waterfall.
Scouting this proves difficult and I climb up the bank 30 meters to the left to get a look at the base for the essential check for rocks,  the rain is hammering down now, I know its over,  the river is visibly rising to flood levels.
I call it quits Knowing there will be a second round to finish this fills me with joy.
Now came the slog of hauling the kayak straight up 150 or more meters to the track, getting out of the canyon uses all my strength and I decide to leave the kayak there at the tree line and return for the car.  The rain is coming down hard and the river is roaring now, Taking the gear bags I slog up through a super steep field to the mud track, I am returning to earth now and start the long walk out to the changuinola road, with little chance of a lift as this is a hardly passable low ratio 4 wheel drive affair.
I start to walk trudging through red slimy mud, the cloud is low and the valley is in view up to my start point the pueblo of Londres,  as always when in the mountains I am happy just to be there,  the view is not tame and the volcanic mountain scenery is sculpted by the extreme forces of nature.
For me the greatest attraction of kayaking lies in the unfettered beauty of the environment, often in its wildest and most pristine state, and I tend to gravitate to the rivers with little habitation, for this reason.
Its about four kilometres or more to the changuinola road, past some cattle farms and crossing the River Gualaca via a steel cabled suspension bridge with a suspect wooden deck, the river now much swollen with the rain. The last two kilometers are steeply uphill,  I am truly tired my back starting to seize up from the constant bracing.  The rain is coming down hard again,  there seems little point in changing into dry things and as I get to the road a small minivan bus stops obligingly for me as if on Q,  They are not to phased that I’m saturated and for a couple of dollars they transported me to the London Road.
Four more kilometers trudging in the rain and I make gratefully the car, change into welcome dry clothes and get started back to pick up the kayak.
On the way out I give a lift to two teenagers,  they tell me that although they live in the town of Gualaca lower down and attend school there, they often spend the weekend with family in Londres as they like the cooler air,  and lifestyle in general, and that most of the locals spend their spare time during the wet season fishing in the rivers for a fish they call the  Sabaleta  which are common,  up to three pounds in weigh and silver colour,  it puts up a great fight in the white water (best bait yellow cheese, cockroaches or crickets).
I drop them off at the entrance to the second track and start an intricate four wheel drive session to retrieve the kayak,  crossing the bridge with some trepidation and arriving with  some difficulty above the canyon just before dark.
I slog back through the field  and man handle the kayak up to the car, I am just about done in and the day is ending,  after stowing the last of the gear and lashing the kayak to the roof rack, I drive back down the track in four wheel drive low ratio in the near dark, following the course of the very audible Rio Gualaca some 300 meters below.
It had been a long and memorable day visit to London,  but I realised that something special had just occurred.
One spends humdrum hours of drudgery traveling and working to make a living, hours training and practicing,  there are many frustrating days when things don’t go right, broken equipment, the rivers are low and don’t live up to expectations or you just cannot get away,  but on this day it had all come together, it would have been hard to have been more perfect, I had struck that gold so elusive and I realised that it had made it all worthwhile.

The Rio Gualaca and its tributaries are one of the last intact wild rivers of the Chiriquí Province of Panama,  it borders the Comarca of of the ngabe and Bugle indigenous people and as yet has not gone under the hammer of the low head dam and tunnel, it is an area of outstanding natural beauty, with its headwaters in the mountains of the Cerro Chorcha and Cerro Hornito.
The pueblo of Londres  is situated between three feeder creeks of the river.

Dominic Gandy

TURQUOISE GOLD                                                                                                     The old Chevrolet Blazer was slipping on the clay and round river rock strewn track wet from the nights rains,  up ahead of me was a farmer in his 4 wheel drive, crikey we had traffic jams out here, I had to crawl along behind him until he kindly let me pass, just before the swaying suspension bridge. From there in low ratio I was able crawl and grind up and down the last of the road to a small tributary, which with a bit of luck I would be able to descend  into the Rio Gualaca it would come out just above the canyon that had put an end to the descent from London. The morning was clear with mist over the mountain tops, the sun was out and illuminating the green hills and ridges. The creeks water level looked low compared to the descent of a couple of weeks ago from London, but of course this was not yet the main river.

It was now 8am and it had been another 5am start to get here, it’s amazing how we humans can manage to separate work from pleasure. The only sounds were of myself dragging the kayak out of the back of the truck, kitting up and the low roar of the creek.

I had come across only the one car and a couple of local campesinos on horseback up to this point, I carefully arranged the equipment inside the kayak,  the slamming of the doors of the vehicle,  dragging the boat down to the rocky riverbank at the creeks fording place, this was all that broke the peace.

At exactly the time all was ready to push off there arrived three local campesinos on horses, the last of which was an old man, they did not seem to know what to make of me, yellow helmet with camera and visor, lifejacket, forearm protectors black rash guard and sitting in a blue 8ft kayak in ten Centimetre’s of water, honestly I imagine I could have looked a little out of place here in these hills.

The old man told me that he thought this should be something for the dry season, I countered that water flow was required for this to work and that was the sum of the conversation, they sauntered off up the track, it was not hard to read their minds.

The creek proved a boney ride, and after only 500 meters It entered the river proper and then things started to happen. The water was at about half of the volume of  A fortnight ago, and was running clear with a green and white hue. The sun had not yet reached into the steep sided valley and there was a chill in the atmosphere, I had been coming down with a cold, the gripe,  and it had been difficult to get motivated in the morning. My body was shivering in the morning air, though the exercise was starting to have its affect. Sometimes its better to go for it knowing that if you wait until the next day you will probably feel worse.                                                                                                       The waterfall at the head of the canyon appeared up ahead, the river dropping away steeply beyond the pool at the base of the falls, I pulled into the left hand bank under thick trees at the point of exit of the previous visit.                                                                                                          The shimmering wet rock walls blended into dark green and blackened forest, the sun was having trouble penetrating this dank spot.

With some difficulty I was able to swim across quite a bit higher up to make the rocky island in the centre of the river and then to the lip of the cascade, the water split and descended some 3 meters to the left and the right of me, the right side being much less powerful than the left, but it landed close to a large rock making it more technical. I am glad I had terminated the previous descent here because the falls created a powerful hole which at this water volume could be negotiated, but I wondered what it might have been with double the flow of the previous descent.                                                                                           I made my way back across the river bouncing over the stones to regain the bank in the swift current, and climbed into the kayak.                   I jockeyed for the best line possible in the rapids above, before penciling into the spume at the base of the falls, the whole kayak and myself submerged into a frothy tumbling and bubbling world before resurfacing, the boat became still above me signaling the exit from the powerful hydraulic and I was able to quickly roll the boat upright to find myself in the pool below.

The beauty of the place took my breath away, twin falls split by a nose of black rock between them, the pool was the color of green jade which was surrounded by dark rock walls, tree trunks were blackened and the  green moss on the rocks came down to the waterline. It was almost as if I had fallen to another level of the natural world,  I could not resist taking a swim across to the other side where a cave beckoned to be explored.

The water descended out of the pool via  turbulent rapids,  it really was a special place, in fact I was not expecting anything like this, the rivers nature had completely changed it was in canyon lands now.

I climbed back into the kayak and ran a grade 3-4 rapid to leave this spot behind, as quickly as arriving, I departed the canyon and the river opened up a bit for a gentle ride, the sun now warming me, it shimmering on the surface, I did some practice rolls in a pool and just admired the scenery, small waterfalls descended into the main watercourse, mosses covered the tree limbs hanging in fronds like beards, shadows played across the surface and the riverbed could clearly be seen as the kayak passed along above it.

Letting my guard down I was surprised by a quickening of the river which squeezed down and sharply curved left and then hard right over a powerful rapid, the senses were instantly changed, I hardened up and lent forward and down river, running it on sight the paddle blade leading as the kayak dropped 2 meters and I shot out into the placid waters lower down, so much for daydreaming.

Again the river became tranquil my watch was showing 200 meters and It was now all over for sure.                                                                  Dropping a long gentle rapid the river could be seen to bend off to the right and disappear amongst some large rocks at the base of a cleft between the hillsides, I was entering another canyon, the entrance of which looked pretty complicated, this Rio Gualaca was full of surprises.

I exited to the right and walked down to the rocks choking the river, almost the whole volume squeezed down between a thin slot hardly the width of the Kayak, this set up what could only be described as a nozzle which shot the water out below as from the overflow of a dam. Unable to see what came next caused me to backtrack and swim the river further up, making my way to the choke I was able to climb down some 4 meters to below the nozzle, the sight below made me run cold.                                                                                                            Two-thirds of all the water flow shot from the churning water where the nozzle jetted the pool below went directly into two blind siphons (the rocks squeeze down and water can flow through but not a person or boat).

The other third of the flow was the least biased of the current, meaning one would be unlikely to end up in it.                                                The whole thing was totally amazing but lethal, close by I came across the skin of a snake, yeah fitting for sure.

Beyond this second row of teeth was another set of rapids of grade 4 or so, powerful but do able, from there the river ran the canyon through consistent grade 3+ rapids to exit somewhere lower down. Again I was struck by the beauty of the place, the turquoise and jade color of the river mixed with the jungle greens  which seemed the hallmark of this part of the descent.                                                                                                  Re crossing the river was a lot more nerve wracking knowing it was a one way trip if you were swept down into that shark mouth by the swift current.                                                                                                             Portaging the left side of this set of natural defenses was not too difficult, sweat poured as the kayak was alternately carried and dropped down to the head of the lower third set of teeth, and the much tamer grade 4 rapid.                                                                                                                                           A complex set of moves led to a chute and stopper which of course I got stuck in, surfing out backwards the kayak was flipped as I dipped the rail up current by mistake, holding the paddle out deep underwater, the current played on it and dragged me out of the hydraulic and it seemed to sweep me upright automatically and out of the rapid.

The river ran straight down through the canyon, I dropped into a sunlight pool where to the right a 30 meter waterfall cascaded down vertically to join the flow, a large bird was fishing close by and took to the air on perceiving me. A little lower down a larger tributary joined from the right hand side and the river turned left and fell through vertical cliffs.  An entire tree including its roots lay on a dry patch in the centre of the now widened river, dragged there by one of the wet season floods. The kayaking now became easier in this last canyon which was nowhere near as intense as the previous ones, rounding the last bend to the right the suspension bridge could be seen some way ahead,  so I decided to stop and drag the boat into the bush and hide it for the walk back to the truck, finding a large tree higher up the bank to accomplish this task.

It was incredibly pleasant making my way to the vehicle, the sun dried me slowly the atmosphere was absolutely still, with the view of the upper ranges draped in indigo and white laced rain clouds of the afternoon which filled my soul. I reflected on the Endeavour and felt that I had been privileged to have been able to have undergone this classic descent from London. It was as if I had personally been allowed to see the world at its finest, a three dimensional perfect canvas, of which I had been allowed to wander through. It brought home a hard truth to me, perhaps this being the true meaning of conservation, we do not know what we have lost until its gone,  and then its just too late.

For a short time I had been able to find myself, but down deep I knew  it was transient, the problems of life would reach out their bony twisted hands to drag me to its reality again.

Sometimes you can plan out every detail of an expedition, taking everything into account and it just will not work out the way the dream played out in your mind.
One such planned two day kayak run of a steep river worked out just that way for me recently.
It just turned out to be a bittersweet and powerful experience.          I was sure that given the recent rains that the descent would take two days, It was not a first for me as I had descended this river before, except this time the plan was to do the whole thing and not portage the grade 5 steep section, With the recent rains there should be a good flow of water and so with all this in mind an early start was essential.
The morning started out well, driving up the mountain in the mist which cleared as the first sun started to warm the terrain revealing the spectacular views of the peaks shrouded in cloud, it was really awesome, it felt good to be alive.
Bouncing down the four wheel drive access track through the mud and meeting only a couple of locals on horseback, It brought me to the final gate early enough, the truck just about fitting through the gate posts, to then be able to negotiate the steep descent to the end of the usable road.  Small stones had been laid down to add traction in the soft clay making it possible to traverse this section in most weather.
The view open before me of a steep sided valley with the thickly vegetated slopes falling down into the river below, here was then destination, a rugged looking place indeed, but the further I could drive the less lugging gear was necessary.
That is how I made the first mistake, I did not take into account the color change from red to a dark purple of the track, this looked though it was made up of small pebbles and rock fragments that made up the road dropping steeply away ahead of me, it was only just about wide enough for the blazer to get through. Only some two hundred yards or so had been negotiated before I realised it was not one of the greatest plans I had hatched, the track ahead dropped even more steeply and became broken with deep ruts where the rains had washed it out.
By bumping the banks of the trough that made up the walls of the track itself in the soft clay, I was able to execute a 180 degree turn,  backing and filling for what seemed an eternity.
Ok so now pointed uphill again, the rest should be easy enough I thought,  well not quite.
Of course even gunning it in low ratio the slick clay surface would not allow enough traction to make it back up the last 50 yards to the start of the red surfaced section, which had the much better traction, what had looked like small rock fragmentation was so broken down that it provided the friction of thick grease.
Whatever I seemed to do the truck just slid sideways into the ditch and onto the bank.
Getting out I started to use a machete the only digging tool available to remove the higher clods from the surface of the track,  the ground easily sliced which only went to show just how soft it all was.
It was about this time a local cowboy turned up on a mule towing yet another animal which had some milk cans strapped on, we talked a while and I explained why I was there, he seemed friendly enough and offered a tow.
It this stage the blazer was 45 degrees across the steepest section of the track hopelessly stuck, even going back down was difficult as I just backed into the bank.
I really had nothing to lose and so we tied a long lasso he had over the saddle horn to the towing hook of the truck.
I have to admit that the motor is a little old and worn on the machine, in fact I run 25W/50 weight oil in it to increase the tolerances a little, so I was just waiting for a piston to appear on the hood ahead of me, but chevy builds a pretty solid vehicle,  even if it was 26 years old, but it did sound all a little metallic though.
Well, the results were not completely ineffective,  in fact by using the motor at the same time that he hauled, we were able to turn the head of the machine upward and slide the truck into the middle of the track again. Unfortunately it just was not enough and after various more attempts he let me know he had to get the milk up to the gate above for collection.
By this stage the sun was out and the surface was starting to dry out, this was of course the only real hope I had of getting out off this mess without a tractor that is, and they seemed pretty scarce around these parts.
I concentrated a little on surface preparation, laying down small stones that were found hereabouts and making sure there were no lumps to stop a wheel.
Having backed up a little A run was made with a little inertia built up, and gunning the 6.2 litre beast at disintegration speed and now bouncing up and down like an animal I just got the thing over the top and out.
This all cost at least a couple of hours and set the tone for the day.
So I offloaded the kayak and gear, packing carefully everything into the boat before getting the blazer up and out the gate higher up to where I was to leave it.
So finally things were on the move again, I got the kayak onto the grass at the side of the track and hauled it downward for the two kilometre hike to the creek put in.
Well, it is hard work but it does warm you up for the water though, Anyway it’s so good to be away from civilisation and in the mountains, I didn’t really mind and hardly ever thought of the practical use of one of those mules for example, never thought about it at all, or so it went getting a boat and equipment to the river.
The water flow at the creek put in was healthy enough, actually it seemed about ideal, the whole of the plan revolved around getting some Go Pro footage of the full descent of this creek. Up to now it had been a pretty good start as I had managed to get a mix of stuff including the horse, and some good terrain footage.
So getting kitted up and doing a few stretch exercises I was ready to mount the camera on the contraption built on the stern of the kayak, which was basically a guyed stick with the Go Pro on top, good results having Been obtained before using the setup.
I had included two weaker points on the forward straps, to break at 30 pounds each in case of getting tangled up in the mess, this I  thought for safety reasons.
Some local campesinos turned up at the exact time I setoff and they seemed happy enough to see this crazy gringo in action.
The creek is pretty manky at the start and dropping at almost 70 meters per kilometre, this made for some tight action and everything went pretty well for a while, I got out a couple of times to scout the steep technical sections ahead.
A really tight right hand turn had to be made after boofing over a 5 foot fall, then passing through the base of another fall and it was while negotiating this, that I looked back to see the Go Pro mount had come down. It was just not possible to stop and another 30 yards went by before I was able to eddy out at the right of the flow.
Well, the base of the mount was broken and there seemed no way to immediately repair it, so I figured it would be just best to remove the Go Pro and see if I could not bodge up something later.  I found out then to my dismay that it was a little too late,  the case was there but it had been dragged open and smashed,  the camera was missing, there went anything good shot up to now.
I looked forlornly back up the steep creek realising somewhere at the bottom of that raging water was my camera.
Well, although I had brought a second one the mount was pretty broken, so cinematic dreams coming to an end the remnants were packed away, Obviously I was not meant to film this today.
By now it was raining which was fairly early start for in the day and this meant getting on with it as the toughest and most technical section was below me, and It would not be good to get into it at flood stage.
From this point on it would just be pure kayaking and that did make me feel good, It was just simply fantastic, the river was perfect the volume ideal. Some waterfalls, and incredible boofs followed, a super steep rock garden and stepped falls led to the crux.
A really steep fast rapid of 30 yards then turn right and a Must make move over a small cascade requiring an exact boof, too much and you came down on rocks and as the landing was pretty shallow, if you penciled in a vertical pin was a real risk.  Then down and hard left through a chute to come out quite some distance below,  all of this on the edge of portage but possible.
It went so well, I could feel the nose of the kayak bump the river bed at the falls, and on looking back upward afterwards I felt like a king for having negotiated it,  This is of course what we live for,  I let out a scream with no one to hear,  It simply does not get any better than this.
The rain was starting to come down steadily and the river was rising, the volume was filling in even more, the next section lead through pure jungle at grade 4+, the grade 5 now behind me, it was still pretty steep though, another river, joining from the left brought up the flow further.
The kayaking now on sight was just pure joy, the steep boulder garden nature of this section made concentration levels become acute, I stopped at times to get a little rest and just re energise with a couple of handfuls of dried fruit and nuts.
The rapids just did not let up, and the after a very strenuous technical section at a good volume the most difficult was behind me, I was feeling good.
If only I were just a little more savvy, feeling good about things is of course the equivalent of pride before a fall on a steep creek!
So coming down through a complex steep rapid there appeared a choice ahead, a large boulder blocked the flow,  and a hard right at 90 degrees bashing up against the rock or punch left through a cleft and straight on. The volume of water was pretty solid as most of the river flow choked down through this feature.
I chose to punch it left through the cleft on sight, of course it was a quick and very erroneous decision as it turned out.
Instant pin, and absolutely solid at that, the kayak at first was pinned upright but quickly the water acted on the upstream rail and started to submerge and capsize the boat, and as I could see this was going the wrong way fast, and it could easily trap me underwater, I pulled the spray skirt.
To be honest the boat was crushing itself with the force of the water deforming to the rock it was pinned onto, I grabbed the self rescue handle on the stern of the boat and hauled against the force of the water, which was bearing down on me pretty hard.  Sliding snakelike out of the cockpit backwards, my feet trapped inside I was able to slide out with great difficulty, I was on the edge of my strength level and there was no possibility of a rest, it had to be made in one, and as quick as I could do it.
The force of the hydraulic was terrible, what had been the propulsion of pure joy was rapidly turning into my nightmare.  Finally I got out of the boat only to get my foot trapped between a large rock and the plastic of the kayak, I could not get my foot backward against the force of the water but in the end managed just to rip it out downstream,  pure luck to be honest, my other foot became pinched again but not as badly and I was finally able to throw myself down on the islet in the middle of the river.  To add insult to injury the water force had pulled down my neoprene shorts to my ankles baring my arse, the humiliation was now complete, Thank the stars there was no one with a camera to put it on you tube.
I took stock of the situation, the river god had let me out, the rain was coming down hard and the creek was rising fast. The kayak was only just visible a small patch of blue below the water, which was the nose, the rest was deeply buried in the powerful hydraulic.
Everything was in the boat, luckily it was close to the rocks which I was perched on but when I tried to get my hand on the bow handle the force of the water just brushed it away. By making a point of my hand and aiming it into the current then sweeping it down on the handle, I was finally able to grab it, lifting upward using all my force did not budge it at all, nothing, it was stuck solidly.
There was obviously no chance of getting the boat out by the bow,  I looked down on it and thought that is probably where it is going to stay.
Studying the situation some more I realised it might be possible to get to the stern by getting behind the rock it was pinned to, even though it was in the force of the current, looking downstream it looked pretty nasty if I got swept away, It would be a pretty bad ride through the rest of the rapid.
Dropping behind the rock the water came to my chest, but became a little shallower as the stern of the kayak was approached, the boat helped provide a lee also, I was able to reach up current and get my hand into the cockpit and finally my fingers curled around the rope secured by bungie just ahead of the seat, I ripped it out.
Great step forward, I was able to secure it to a handle just behind the cockpit, then hauling myself out on the rock the vessel was pinned onto I was able to pull with everything I had upward in the hopes of breaking the force of the pin. Nothing no movement at all and it was starting to get exhausting, the water was becoming muddier by the minute showing the volume was really increasing.
Jumping back into the water behind the rock I tried the last thing I could think of before salvaging what I could and getting out. It was a hail Mary move really, I moved behind the rock and forced upstream at the stern of the boat, and then by using the lee to get my hands on the handle at the back of the kayak, then using a boulder on the riverbed to get the best leverage against the raging current, I was able to get some purchase to be able to lift the stern upward with everything I had.
Here the miracle occurred, the thing moved a bit, not much maybe an inch but it moved, I tried again and got it up four inches but was quickly exhausted and the kayak returned to its original position.
I was becoming tired, this was literally at the very limit of my strength, trying again It came up more but returned again to where it had been.
A final push after a short rest allowed me to quickly squat with my head almost underwater then getting the point of the stern on my shoulder, and using the last of my strength I was able to stand up and feel it break free, to where the hydraulic force of the rapid took over and drove the boat over me and downstream upside down where I was able to stop it using the rope.
Again I had been lucky in that it came out upside down as this drained a portion of the water making it easier to bring to a halt, had it remained full it would have gone on downstream as I doubt I could have arrested the weight.
I was able to wrestle it to the rocky islet and drag it to dry land so as to speak. Surveying the boat the whole bottom was crushed inward over most of the kayaks length, the inner plastic reinforcing ahead of the seat had parted, it looked a bit of a sorry state.
I got the thing dried out and by placing the bow on one rock and the stern on another was able to bash some shape back into the the boat using my feet, granted it had some large deformations but it looked good to go to me, best damn boat around as far as I was concerned.
I climbed back in and Finished the rapid, then eddied out to a small beach on the left and got out and reflected on what had been a very humbling experience. Strangely I felt no fear throughout the whole event, there was now playing loudly in my head Midnight oils, “How can we dance when our earth is turning, How do we sleep while our beds are burning” and there it remained for some time, strangely comforting to be honest.
I looked at the time only to realise my watch was gone, ripped from my wrist, it was a small price to pay really.
Breaking out some food I ate with relish, and drained a water bottle, it was indeed good to be alive!
I carried on downriver for a few more rapids, now only grade three or so before hauling out at the confluence of a small incoming creek, where I knew a little upriver a dirt track intersected. The day was not late and although the volume was pretty stout I could have continued but Felt pretty exhausted, and decided wisely that I had pushed my luck enough for that day.
Sitting  a while by the River I ate a full lunch of an entire can of spam and crackers before finally deciding on leaving the gear,  and then walking out to retrieve the blazer from the put in track. This meant I had to trudge a few kilometres to the main road,  get a bus and then walk another four kilometres to where The truck had been left.
Starting out meant pushing through a cow pasture with long grasses, Using a stick to beat the way for snakes I quickly made the track and started the long walk to the main road.
The walk was uneventful, it rained sporadicly and the track itself was pretty slippery underfoot, it was quiet and tranquil, the sound of the river audible to my right.
I was tired though, and the final uphill slog to the road was tough going. I changed into a T shirt and track pants which was miraculously the only things which were dry, everything else was soaked completely, despite being in dry bags and inside new sealed freezer plastic bags, only a couple of things had escaped the water pressure.
The small coaster bus took a long time to arrive probably around an hour or so, It was packed with locals so I stood inside, crammed in like a sardine whilst It climbed laboriously up the mountain to finally deposit me at the entrance track.  I was then able to trudge the final four kilometres or so through the rain to make the truck at the end of the track.
It was now getting late and darkness was at most an hour off, I got going so as to be able to retrieve the boat from the river bank before the night fell completely. I crawled the truck back up the four wheel drive track to make the main road, which was descended to the access track leading to the lower section of the river.
The last part of the four wheel drive track was treacherous, the truck sliding at times sideways on the wet red clay surface,  several small creeks had to be forded before finally I came to a halt before a larger tributary of the main river and within walking distance of where I had left the kayak.
I would have left the boat where it was except that the water bottles were inside and that meant a night without liquid, which was not a pleasant thought.
I had finished the last of the rutted track in the twilight with the headlamps on, and as the only flash lights I had were waterlogged, it meant getting on with it as there was just enough visibility, if I was quick to get to the kayak it could be done, so I made a run for it.
When I finally made the end of the field it was difficult to make anything out, I just grabbed the boat and just dragged it through the grass finding this worked best, using a stick in case of snakes. By the time I got back to the vehicle I felt completely done in, I was so thirsty, drinking the rest of the water I refilled the bottles from a small stream near the truck before using purifying tablets to make sure it was drinkable and that was about all I could get done, before finally crashing out to sleep in the back of the blazer.
I slept pretty well even though it was just in my clothes, getting a little cold though towards dawn, the small sleeping bag I had brought had become saturated in that hydraulic along with most of the rest of the gear.
I got up early and heated water using a camp warmer I had brought with me, these lightweight small fuel bottles are fantastic for this type of expedition, all you do is unscrew the cap, put three rocks around the thing and light the wick, it quickly warms a cup of water for a cup of coffee, and that makes all the difference, the hot liquid warming right through to ones soul.
Breakfast of muesli and crackers made me feel human again and I got the kayak ready for the last section of the river.  Even though it was damaged I felt it would be all right and the risk was worth it for the reward, I took only the most basic gear, packing super light as getting back to the vehicle was not going to be a problem.
Regaining the main River I was quickly back into it again, the volume was perfect, somewhat robust after yesterdays rains, the kayaking was just inspiring, everything now went perfectly. I seemed to hit every line exactly and  it was an incredible descent through the last of the grade 4 section of the river. It only took about a couple of hours including a porter section, gone were the dark clouds of the day before, and now I was back on top of the world again, a more perfect morning I could not imagine.
I hid the boat at the finish of the section and walked back to the truck, it had been an incredible two days, and I drove home completely rejuvenated, the deep beauty of the place,  the intense kayaking and close call made this an experience I would not have traded for anything.