Eagle Creek Archives

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Character
Class: V – V+
Miles: 4
Portages: 0 – 1 (Depending on how big of a waterfall you want to run that day).
Shuttle: Human powered- Hike up 4 miles and paddle back to your car. A Northwest Forest Pass is required at the take-out.
Put-In: Hike up 4 miles to Skoonichuck Falls or keep going another 2 miles, up to the confluence with the east and west fork. There is another 40 foot drop up there that can be a put in as well, with some quality read and run boulder gardens as you work down to Skoonichuck Falls.
Take-Out: Eagle Creek Fish Hatchery – Exit 41 on I-84 east bound only.

Kayaking Metlako Falls on Eagle Creek, OR

May 30, 2009 Rafting on Eagle Creek

On May 30, 2009 a small crew of Rafters and Kayakers hiked up Eagle Creek in the Columbia Gorge and put on above Skoonichuck Falls. The perfect day and lots of fun! Check out the video.

Music by Braille www.braillehiphop.com

-March, 2009

It’s truly entertaining when we are out doing what we do and we wonder into the Columbia River Gorge’s most frequented trail by hikers , not paddlers. Some people eagerly want to know more about why you are carrying the heavy/awkward kayaks up into a steep canyon laced with large waterfalls, while others turn to walk away quickly as if to ‘get out before I have to answer to the local news about what you were doing in here!’

Regardless, Eagle creek delivers something big every time you go in. From scenery, canyoneering, inner tubing, or kayaking..

Tyler Bradt & Ian Garcia standing above Metlako Falls

Ian Garcia – rolling in – Metlako Falls

-May, 2008

Trip Report Written by Jarred Jackman
Photos courtesy of Keel Brightman Photography

It’s All About the PACKAGE, Eagle Creek, Top to Bottom

It doesn’t have to be fun, to be fun. Who said that? AAHHH, some climber…

I revel in knowing what is available in my backyard. I don’t mean the annoying patch of grass that grows too fast, but rather the greater wild areas that surround my habitat. The Columbia River Gorge, specifically the Columbia Crest, is the area in which I explore and continually test my limits. From hiking fast and light to paddling rarely run Hamilton Creek to scouting un-run Wahclella Falls to exploring killer hills on my road bike, I love knowing what is available close to home and enjoying the area to its fullest. This is what drove my desire to run Eagle Creek. Now, I’ve run Eagle Creek before. Hike up to Skoonichuk, fire it off, get ultra stoked, and finish the run in an elated state that you just stomped a huge drop. But this would be a different Eagle Creek exploration. I wanted to put it to rest, boat the full length, all that was runnable and accessible (within reason, I’m not totally crazy about bushwhacking.)

I began talking to people this past winter about hiking nine miles up Eagle Creek and kayaking down. I didn’t get many takers. This isn’t your typical weekend endeavor. Most hikers don’t kayak, and most kayakers don’t hike. To put this in context, I planned to haul 70-80 pound boats up the trail, stay overnight and run the creek from top to bottom, dealing with whatever came in my path. This included an un-run 30 footer (more on that later) and dealing with 100 foot Metlako Falls, which I planned to rappel.) In the end Keel and Ryan signed up for the mission. These guys are great. Keel is usually fired up for whatever: big drops, punishment, fun, challenge, you name it! Ryan is cool and collected, seemingly reserved with a quiet fire that seems to burn inside him. He is usually the epitome of good judgment and safety. (Not to mention these guys are solid V+ kayakers.) I’m the guy with the ambition for exploration and punishment (the actual kayaking ability seems to be coming along, albeit sometimes more slowly than I would like.) So it was with these two hoodlums that I set out from the Eagle Creek trailhead on Saturday May 10, 2008 at 2:10pm, destination: any suitable campsite near the unrun 30 footer (still planning on getting to that later.)

While still in the parking lot the questions began coming from tourists and hikers along with the incredulous looks (you could see people were wondering, “are those crazy people going to actually wear those backpacks with those BOATS attached to them? And are those boats really FULL of gear and food and what not? Huh, weird…)

A little history on the day prior:
I had taken the day off from work and Keel wanted a little cardio exercise so I suggested going for a bike ride. Keel doesn’t really ride bikes. I hooked him up with a sweet bike and some gear and we set out along the old Columbia River Highway. In the end Keel completed a nice 36-mile ride with some great steep hill climbing and was showing signs of wear. We relaxed through mid-day, eating, being lazy, and for Keel, excreting (I think the biking hurt him in ways I don’t want to know.) So that afternoon a mellow run down the Farmlands (local class IV run) seemed appropriate to us both. Ryan decided he needed to fire it up on the LW (local sicko class V+.) So after these events we were warmed up and stoked for the Eagle Creek mini-expedition.

Now I don’t know about you, but when I hike, I like to go light and fast. I want to cover as much ground per day as possible while carrying only what I really need to in order to be safe and mostly comfortable (comfort being a negotiable point of view.) I don’t dream about strapping an ungainly 50 pound hunk of plastic and foam to my back. Not to mention the ropes, safety equipment, sleeping gear and food that are required for a night out and add way too much weight. We tried to cut out anything deemed superfluous, this meant stoves, tents, and anything related to general comfort like extra clothes, etc. I almost forgot; rain was in the forecast!

So we humped our loads about 7 miles; (the rain had flirted with us for about an hour.) We had shot some promising video documenting the pain of hiking with boats, scouted some of the drops we wanted to run, deemed the water level to be lower than ideal, and generally decided that hiking up Eagle Creek with boats, although novel (and potentially adventurous,) was definitely not a Sunday in the park (nor something we wanted to repeat anytime soon if ever.) Fast forward through the painful hiking to the last quarter mile…the unrun 30 footer, whoops, it’s more like a strong 45’, and technical! I was the first of the crew to catch a glimpse of this thing. Now keep in mind, I hadn’t seen this drop in the daylight for about a year. I had run past the drop in the dark while completing the Eagle-Tanner loop on a weeknight with work the next day. It was dark and I was running by headlamp with my dog, I wasn’t scouting waterfalls. This particular evening, with my boat weighing heavily on my sore shoulders, I rounded the bend after Twist Falls (which now seems unrunnable by all but those willing to really put themselves in harm’s way) and saw the beast, the “30 footer.” It had grown in my absence. It now looked much like a narrower, gnarlier, 50 FOOTER! Damn, those guys are going to be pissed!

Side note: We’re not necessarily the thrill seeking crew looking for the next huge drop, always needing bigger and badder. We’re the guys who like to push our personal boundaries and have a lot of fun doing it. Today’s spectator is use to seeing a select few people do seriously amazing things outdoors. This has numbed the individuals who don’t partake in those activities into thinking that bigger isn’t quite so big anymore, and badder isn’t quite so impressive anymore. Believe me, a 50 foot waterfall is a very big drop to go over in a kayak. Disconnecting from the Earth and reconnecting again 50 feet and a few seconds later, is an attention getting way to spend one’s time.

I realized that I had just lead us WAY up a trail to an unrun waterfall that was now something other than what I had billed it as. This thing was big, with a very small acceptable lead-in. There was a tree that had fallen from the left bank and was swaying in the current falling from the lip. Luckily the tree was out of the desired “line.” Also luckily, there was a campsite about 100 feet from the lip of the drop! This was perfect because the rain sure seemed as though it might hit big at any moment. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, just bust out the tent, set it up, stow the gear under the boats, and get busy stinking up the tent with Keel’s dirty sardines and god-knows-what food concoctions, and Ryan’s, more stinky than a three day old diaper, neoprene boating socks that he wore hiking. Of course I don’t have flaws, oh, other than slightly forgetting somewhat important details such as the runability of unrun waterfalls. But this was not to be a normal evening. Keel had brought a bivy, which he thought would keep him dry. I had brought a tarp (you know, the blue ones from the hardware store that you use to keep rain off the furniture when moving from state to state. Believe me, this one had seen better days.) Ryan had promised some kind of boat plastic bag thing that seemed to not find it’s way into his car (no worries, we have the blue tarp!) So, between the three of us, we had one 8’ X 10” blue tarp complete with personal, albeit very small, skylights for easy weather checks from bed, three sleeping bags, two pieces of super thin plastic about 4’ X 9’ (think heavy shrink wrap without the shrink), the bivy sack, a couple of sleeping pads (note: three people, only two pads, HAHAHA, poor Keel), and some strings to rig the tarp into a somewhat rain shedding/absorbing pup tent style shelter. This coupled with a nice log, pretty flat ground, and Ryan’s creek boat would be home for the evening. Needless to say I slept with my legs in my drysuit and ALL my clothes on (plus a pink bandana I had found at Skoonichuk Falls earlier that day.) In the end Keel’s feet seemed drenched and Ryan’s ass was wet from the waterslide that quietly trickled down the log all night and formed a pool under his butt, unbeknownst to him ‘til morning, again, HAHAHAHA, poor Ryan. I luckily stayed pretty dry.

None of this seemed to matter much since the roar of the waterfall was blazing a trail into all our heads. (Sleep did not come easily.) To some it was just a loud noise that was hard to sleep through. To others (me in particular) it seemed to haunt my thoughts, curious if I would run it in the morning. I decided that it didn’t matter. I don’t embark on these outings to “run the shit.” I embark on these outings because it’s all about “the package.” For me, the hiking, camping, wondering, discovering, kayaking, running, biking, climbing, everything all wrapped up, personal exploration, is the impetus for getting out. If I run the big daddies, great, if not, no worries. I found that running big waterfalls doesn’t necessarily change a person from day to day, but small miscalculations, which lead to big injuries, certainly do. Maybe this is why I don’t seek out big drops and have only run a few. Regardless, I know why I embark on the missions. Knowing what is at the root of your actions, that’s the key. Why are you the person that you are? (A question posed to all, not rhetorical!)

We all slept (check that, forced ourselves to lay mostly catatonic in one position so as to not disrupt the warmth we had managed to muster in our bags) through the night and awoke to the quintessential western Gorge daylight at 6:30am. This isn’t the type of daylight someone might experience in say, southern California, or even eastern Washington. This is the type of daylight that tells you it’s morning but that your camera will still need a flash if you want to take a picture of your miserably wet sleeping predicament. So we joked a little, laughed a little, probably prematurely awoke the guys sleeping in their cozy tents about 20 feet away, and talked about how the day might unfold.

The wet night and the previous day’s hike had taken its toll. Ryan’s body was hurting, Keel had an old injury that seemed to be coming around for more attention, and although I physically felt pretty good, I just couldn’t sign up for the probe of the unrun 45 foot drop that sat outside our camp. It looked good to go (I even liked it and wanted it), the lead-in wasn’t easy but it was there, the landing didn’t have as much aeration as we would have liked, but it looked deep! The drop was pretty straightforward as long as you didn’t go over the handlebars and land on your head. I don’t have a lot experience with these big drops and being airborne. I’ve run a few, but it has never felt like old hat to me. I need to want it mentally and know I can be where I need to be physically, no exceptions!!! I’ve often gone kayaking on days I didn’t really want to. I put-on, get splashed in the face, feel the bite of the cold water and the excitement of the boulder garden and twisting rapids, and get stoked that I forced myself to get out, to improve, and paddle even when I wasn’t “feeling it.” Big waterfalls are very different though. Not “feeling it” can mean a trip to the hospital, a broken back, or in this case being stranded and injured 7 miles up a canyon that isn’t friendly to rescue equipment. Plus life isn’t about being rescued! 9 times out of 10 that drop would have gone off without a hitch. We would have bagged the first descent and started the day off right. As it was I decided to listen to that one time that things might not go right, I portaged, along with my friends, and felt good about it. (Of course Keel jumped off the drop, which proved the landing is definitely good to go!) We discussed how walking is a hard decision, just as hard as stepping up to run a drop. It’s a personal battle, as it should be. Later downstream as Ryan and I sat with cameras ready to document Keel’s descent of another big beefy drop we saw him emerge on the opposite bank with his boat on his shoulder. After he tossed his boat in the water and jumped in after it he told me he realized as he was sitting in the eddy above the drop, ready to run it, that he was there for the wrong reasons. I immediately said, “for the glory?” He said yes, and we both agreed that’s not the reason to run big drops. Commitment like that is personal; if it isn’t, it’s hollow. Nobody really cares whether you run a waterfall or not. The tourists on the trail will watch, yell, laugh, whatever, then they’ll forget. You’ll have the feel of accomplishment, of triumph, and utter excitement, for about a week, if that. It’s an amazing thing, running a big waterfall, but it’s not the reason we go into the canyons.

We paddled a lot of really fun class III read and run that just didn’t let up. Finally we came to some rapids with a little more meat and this warned of Skoonichuk. Nobody had run a big drop to this point and we had all basically decided that we weren’t running the shit that day. So we got out to portage and Keel got out to do his classic jump from the top rock lip (it must be almost 60’!) At this point we were on the main trail and the portage route was down a steep narrow trail back to river level. Ryan decided the weekend had taken its toll and he wanted to hike out since this would be our easiest access to the main trail as we were already on it. Ryan seemed as though he definitely had made his decision, so nobody argued, Ryan got his pack out and starting rigging his boat for carrying the four miles back to the parking lot.

After some talk Keel and I decided to proceed downstream and were stoked that we did! Although we didn’t finish what we came to accomplish, which was run the creek top to bottom, we did solidify the reasons we sign up for trips such as this. Everything from the painful hike in, to the cramped night in the rain, to carrying 70+ pound boats on the portages of all the big drops, to answering the question of “Are you going to the lake?” that we kept getting from tourist hikers, to finding unpaddled whitewater in one of the most beautiful canyons in North America, to realizing who your friends are and why, to realizing that physical pain can be a great thing, to more fully understanding that life really is mind over matter. It’s the package. It’s not one ingredient, one aspect, or one fixation, it’s everything all rolled into one. It’s the hike, it’s the planning, it’s the weather, the location, the partners. It’s going into a canyon that’s only 3 miles from home but feels wild and remote from water level! It’s the package, the trip, wherever, whenever, whatever. The particulars are different for everybody, but the essence is always the same, and anyone who truly lives by this ethos directly relates to this mentality and understands, it doesn’t have to be fun, to be fun!

For those interested, there’s still an unrun 45+ foot waterfall in the Eagle Creek drainage approximately 7 miles from the parking lot on the W.F. Go get it!

- March, 2008

Austin Rathmann scouting Skoonichuck Falls, Eagle Creek, OR

Last weekend was quite an adventure here in the gorge. Saturday started out with a large crew including a small group from Seattle and no one backing down from the surprising 3.9 feet on the Little White when we arrived at the put in. The day ended with the LVM 25 premiere in Hood River, thanks to Stacey Johnson for organizing the event, and the next day a large group including Nick Hinds, Scott Waidelich, Ben Hawthorne, Paul Gamache, Jesse Becker, Jason Schroeder, Christie Glissmeyer, Austin Rathmann, and Ryan Scott hiked up Eagle Creek for a high water huck fest. There was plenty of action, broken paddles, and humbled paddlers. At the end of the day everyone involved was more than happy to be at the take out…here are a couple still images taken by Paul Gamache and Jesse Becker…

Austin dropping in

Austin, free fall

Christie Glissmeyer steppin up to Skoonichuck

Christie from the bottom

Austin and Scott Waidelich taking a break below the warm up drop

Skoonichuck proved once again to be one of the toughest put in rapids here in the gorge and received a 50/50 rating by those who dropped in at this flow.

- March, 2007

Once again I found myself on Eagle Creek, OR for Jason Schroeder’s Birthday run. Jason, Keel, Jarred and I hiked 4 miles up in the rain to Skoonichuk Falls. We had a med/low water level which was perfect since we did’nt do a pre scout to check the level.

Keel Brightman scouting the put in drop, Skoonichuk Falls, Eagle Creek, OR