off the pavement / By Seth Naman

On Loan

Willow Creek has a lot to offer, but it can ask for something in return

(March 27, 2008)  Every kayaker needs a hometown run. That go-to river that you skate out of work a bit earlier than usual to paddle before it gets dark; a creek you can count on for fun when the rain starts to fall. Willow Creek is a standby run for North Coast kayakers, close enough to paddle a short stretch before classes in the afternoon or after a long day at work to shake off some stress. But even though it’s close to home and lots of fun, it can catch even experienced kayakers off guard.

Highway 299 follows Willow Creek for much of its length east of Berry Summit, crossing the creek several times. It starts as a mere trickle, but after a few miles, it picks up energy and power as East Fork Willow Creek and Three Creek add water from the surrounding hills. It plies bedrock for most of the journey, tumbling in between steep walls and around big edgy boulders, rarely slowing down to rest.

Heave! Photo by Seth Naman.

GALLERY >

A few weeks ago I paddled Willow Creek with some friends. When Dan came to pick me up in the morning, he came searching for coffee. “Any joe, bro?” I was happy to make him a cup of coffee because Dan is a guy you always want to have functioning at the maximum level. He can be the life of the party, and he can also save you, or your equipment on a difficult stretch of whitewater. We loaded my stuff into his gray pickup and headed east. For the duration of the trip he blasted Led Zeppelin, and we rocked out to hallmark ‘70s classics the whole way.

The plan: meet five other paddlers on Berry Summit and kayak a portion of Willow Creek known as the “Teacups.” It’s further upstream towards Berry Summit than the runs that kayakers typically do, with steeper drops and a few small waterfalls. It rained the whole drive from the coast, until we climbed nearly to the top of Berry Summit, where the rain slowly turned into snow.

We met up with the other crew at the overlook and continued on the journey east, driving through the snowflakes, already imagining the cold bite of the creek on our hands. We never even stopped at the Teacups, but instead blazed right past because the flow was too low.

We ended up stopping farther downstream at the put-in for the class V run that is more commonly paddled than the Teacups (whitewater is rated from I to V, V being the most challenging). The snow eventually stopped, but a blizzard of bright kayaks and colorful equipment began to appear around us as we started to unpack our gear and get dressed. After a couple people ran a vehicle down to the take out, we got into the chilly water, just as the sun began to poke holes in the clouds.

The creek started out with a warm up section. Some boulders to dodge, braided channels to choose from, and a lot of bumping around on exposed rocks. The emerald green water of the creek lazily lapped mossy rocks adorned with forests of ferns. Alder trees held their ground against the power of the creek, refusing to budge an inch.

Soon after the put-in, we came to the Limbo, a fir tree stretched across the creek just high enough off the surface to allow a kayaker to lie back on the stern of the boat and slip under. The flow of the creek was higher than the last time I paddled it, and after I went under I was thankful that I didn’t rake my face on the underside of the tree.

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