Updated February 2024
🏞 Preamble
I had initially titled this missive The Oldies Desert Triathlon, but I decided that Barbara’s Last Run is more appropriate, as you will discover as you read further.
In the photo above in September 2005, I am paddling my new yellow inflatable whitewater kayak (rated for Class V rapids) on the Upper Kern River. Stan purchased it for me when we wanted to try running the upper portion of the Lower Kern River a second time – after a disastrous run I had in my hardshell kayak the first time we tried it in 1999. He named my new kayak Barbara’s Last Run.
The black eye I received while kayaking the Lower Kern River in 1999
🌊 A Brief Recap of Our 39 Years of Whitewater Adventures, 1971-2009
From 1971 to 2009, Stan and I enjoy 39 years of whitewater adventures on the eight rivers in California, Arizona and Wyoming shown on the map below.
During the last 15 of those years from 1995 to 2009, we tackle whitewater rivers in solo hardshell kayaks.*
* Hardshell kayaks are the traditional types of kayak. These hardshell kayaks are made from wood, plastic, fiberglass or other composite materials, with a rigid frame. This is unlike an inflatable kayak, which tends to feature synthetic rubber or PVC and plastic polymers, but sometimes they can be of a similar quality.
We first raft on the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon in Arizona (where Stan and I met in 1972), as well as on the Tuolumne and the Stanislaus Rivers in Northern California.
We then kayak on whitewater rivers in Northern California including the Upper and Lower Kern Rivers, the California Salmon and Klamath Rivers, and the American River. Stan also kayaks the Snake River in Wyoming with a friend.
In 1996, I am kayaking Ewings Rapids on the Upper Kern River.
Click on the photo above to read the details of our "🌊 39 Years of Whitewater Adventures, 1971-2009."
We finally have to stop our whitewater adventures in 2009 when I start having body parts replaced or fused because of my worsening osteoarthritis (2 knees, 2 hips & 3 fused spine surgeries from 2008-2016).
We move on from whitewater kayaking to paddling on flat water in the desert at the Motorcoach Country Club in Indio. There in 2006, we purchase a lot on the water where we keep our motorhome and where we continue to paddle our whitewater and sea kayaks to this day.
Read on for my story of Barbara’s Last Run.
🌊 Whitewater Misadventure on the Lower Kern River in 1999
In July 1999, we have five years of whitewater kayaking experience under our belts including four weeks of instruction at the Otter Bar Lodge Kayak School in Northern California.
In 1996, Stan & I are about to tackle the rapids on the California Salmon River near Otter Bar.
Click on the photo to read the details of our "🌊 5 Years of Intense Whitewater Kayaking at Otter Bar 🦦."
We are at the Kern River with good friends Gary & Ann, as well as Doug (whom we met earlier this summer at Otter Bar). The water level is so low on our usual run on the Upper Kern that we decide to paddle the Lower Kern instead for our first time.
The only time I sustain an injury in 39 years of whitewater adventures occurs this first time we tackle the Lower Kern. I flip over in a swift, narrow chute and attempt to do a combat roll* to get myself upright.
* A kayak roll (often referred to as an Eskimo roll) is the act of righting a capsized kayak by use of body motion and/or a paddle. A combat roll is a roll performed after one flips over in a rapids.
By this time, I am fairly accomplished in performing the kayak roll, but I have never attempted it under these conditions – namely, in a narrow chute. While upside down and sweeping my paddle and body through the roll maneuver, I slam my head into the rocky side of the channel.
I end up breaking my glasses, getting a large black eye, and having to pull my skirt* and swim through the rapids to shore. Fortunately, I am wearing a helmet which saves me from more serious injuries to my head.
* Kayak sprayskirts are made from neoprene and are designed to keep water out of the inside of your kayak so that you keep floating. The skirt fits securely around the cockpit rim and has a pull cord or grab loop that stays on the outside of your cockpit. You use the grab loop to pull the skirt off (even while upside down in rapids) when you want to exit the kayak.
When I get back in my kayak and start paddling through the next rapids, I tip over again and have to bail out and swim to shore a second time. I decide that I am not in shape to kayak any farther that day, especially with only one eye and without glasses to see.
The others leave me on shore and continue their descent downriver. I don't see them for another six hours, when they finally show up in the vehicles to rescue me. I do a lot of hiking in the hills with the grazing cattle during my long day alone.
Lower Kern Misadventure in 1999
Upper left: Unloading our kayaks at the beginning of the Lower Kern River run. From the left are Gary, Ann, Stan and Doug.
Upper right: Ann, who is paddling our two-person inflatable kayak, and I at the start of the run.
Lower left: Stan and Gary going through the rapids below after they left me; I have climbed to the top of the hill to see them off.
Lower right: Stan and I, with my black eye, at our RV campsite the following day.
Whenever I appear in public with Stan during the following weeks, the females give him a dirty look, thinking that he has been abusing me.
🌊 Second Attempt on the Lower Kern River in 2005
After my first experience on the Lower Kern that day in July 1999, I am reluctant to try it again in a hardshell. Ann made it through rather easily in our double inflatable. So six years later in 2005 when we want to repeat that adventure, Stan buys me a bright yellow, inflatable kayak rated for Class V rapids,* which he names Barbara’s Last Run.,
* Class V: Extremely difficult, long, and very violent rapids with highly congested routes, which should be scouted from shore. Rescue conditions are difficult, and there is a significant hazard to life in the event of a mishap. The upper limit of what is possible in a commercial raft.
We have no friends who are available to kayak with us, and we are both leery of attempting it alone, so we hire an experienced guy to paddle it with us.
Stan (on the right) and I are standing on the riverbank between Barbara’s Last Run and Stan's red hardshell kayak on the Lower Kern River in 2005 – about to try this stretch of wild whitewater for the second time.
I make it through the run with only one mishap on our second (and last) run down the upper portion of the Lower Kern. It is definitely easier in an inflatable. An inflatable is less likely to tip over; however, it is also less maneuverable and not as much fun as a hardshell – if one has the skills to take advantage of the latter.
The only problem I encounter with my inflatable is that it gets stuck in a frowning hole.*
* A hole in a river is caused by a depression in the river bed such as water cascading over a boulder (or ledge), and water from downstream flows back upstream to fill in the depression. A hole can be smiling or frowning when viewed from upstream. A hole with edges that curve downstream (smiling 😊) make for an easy exit. Holes with edges that curve upstream (frowning ☹️) are dangerous because the water is recirculating back towards the center of the hole instead of out and downstream.
Because my inflatable is so buoyant, I am unable to paddle out of the hole against the frowning edges – I am trapped! When I try to paddle out an edge, I just keep getting thrust back into the hole. After several minutes of trying, I am exhausted. I give up and purposely tip over, swim toward the bottom of the hole and under the recirculating water, and escape downstream.
My kayak is still caught in the hole, but our expert guide hikes back upstream and manages to dislodge it by throwing rocks at it. We are able to successfully finish the day without any further mishaps.
Moving ahead 17 years from 2005 to 2021, read on about me paddling Barbara’s Last Run in our Oldies Desert Triathlon.
The Main Event – The Oldies Desert Triathlon, May 2021
Stan & I spend three days at our place in the desert in the Motorcoach Country Club in Indio the last week of May 2021. We moved our trip up to an earlier date when we looked at the predicted temperatures in mid-June.
This week, the temperature only reaches 100 degrees, but it holds close to that starting around 10 a.m. and not cooling off until after sunset. I finally move from our shade structure into our air-conditioned motorhome in the afternoon when my laptop slows down to a crawl and threatens to shut down because it becomes too hot.
We toted my electric Trike out to the desert so we can ride our bikes with the dogs running beside us. We have to ride early each day before the pavement gets too hot for their feet.
I last tried paddling my hardshell whitewater kayak two years prior to this on our desert waterways – but my older, heavier, arthritic body couldn’t stand being crammed into its tight space to paddle more than a mile.
On an earlier trip this year, we brought Barbara’s Last Run to the desert so I can try paddling it on our canals, and on this trip I am determined to use it. I am hopeful that the larger, inflatable kayak will prove easier for me to paddle than my hardshell.
I have also resolved to go swimming in the Olympic-sized pool.
So on our last day, we decide to hold our own personal triathlon – kayaking, biking and swimming – all in one day.
🛶 The First Event – Kayaking
Stan inflated Barbara’s Last Run yesterday, and tried it out to make sure it is ready for me. At 6:50 a.m. on Friday, May 28, we launch our kayaks from our lawn.
I have difficulty keeping my body sufficiently upright, and paddle at a incline for the next 80 minutes. However, I do make it to the end of our canal system and back, a distance of more than two miles each way – and I even manage to disembark on the lawn with Stan’s help.
The First Event of Our Triathlon - Kayaking Our Waterways
Top left: I am paddling my whitewater hardshell kayak two years earlier in 2019.
Top right: Stan is inflating Barbara’s Last Run.
Center: Stan performs a perfect lawn exit after trying out my yellow kayak.
Bottom left: I am about to launch Barbara’s Last Run from our lawn.
Bottom right: I am paddling before 7 a.m.
🚲 🏊♀️ The Second & Third Events – Biking & Swimming
At this point, I am ready for a cup of coffee. But, no – Stan says we had to take the dogs on a run beside our bikes before it gets too hot for them. That includes a stop at the dog park at the entrance to our resort so they can run free and do their thing. By 9:30 a.m., we are finally back at our lot, and I can have my coffee and get breakfast ready.
The third and final event of our triathlon for that day occurs in late afternoon when we swim a few laps in the Olympic-sized pool.
Upper left: I am with Henry, age 4, and 15-year-old Ginger, who is a year beyond her time and trots beside me the entire course.
Upper right: Stan & the dogs are in the dog park.
Middle left: A much appreciated coffee break on our dock after kayaking & biking.
Middle right: We all retreat into the air-conditioned motorcoach in the heat of the day.
Bottom left: Stan and the dogs are about to drive off to the swimming pool in the late afternoon in the golf cart.
Bottom right: On our final event, Stan is swimming laps in the pool. We let the dogs loose in the pool area this time of the year when no one else is around.
It has been a great day, and not too shabby for a couple of octogenarians – speaking for myself only, because Stan does this much or more every day.
Epilogue – Kern River, a Song by Merle Haggard
After reading this missive describing our 39 years of whitewater adventures, including 15 years of solo whitewater kayaking each summer on the Kern River, you can understand why my favorite river song is "Kern River" sung by Merle Haggard. The song hit the Top 10 in the summer of 1985.
The lyrics to the song "Kern River" were written by Merle and tell a mysterious and haunting tale about loss and regret. In it, the singer is an old man in the mountains looking back on his life and a river from his youth, the Kern River, which he will never swim again.
The singer refers to Merle’s youth in the line:
I grew up in an oil town, but my gusher never came in.
He also recalls that,
It was there I first met her.
It was there that I lost my best friend.
It is only later in the song where you realize that the “her” was also his best friend who got swept away by the river.
The singer now lives on Lake Shasta in Northern California (where Merle was living at the time of his death), and the most beautiful lines in the song, for me, are:
There’s a place called Mount Whitney
From where the mighty Kern River comes down.
Well it's not deep nor wide,
But it's a mean piece of water my friend.
And I may cross on the highway
But I'll never swim Kern River again.
At the end, the singer laments:
And I may drown in still water,
But I’ll never swim Kern River again.
The same is true of myself. I’ll most likely never kayak nor swim Kern River again either – nor any other whitewater rivers.
But I'll still keep paddling Barbara’s Last Run on our flat desert waterways!
Now enjoy listening to Merle himself singing OUR song by clicking on his album cover above titled, "Kern River."
I hope you enjoyed my missive and my song!
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