Klinaklini Kayak Expedition: Trip Report 2017 Jen Higgins Award Recipients: Maranda Stopol, Jo Kemper, Jordan Slaughter and Darby McAdams. The idea for this trip came about over two years ago, when I was working as a safety kayaker for a commercial rafting trip on the upper Klinaklini River. Located north of Mount Waddington, the Klinaklini River flows from British Columbia s Central Plateau, through the Coast Mountains to Knight Inlet in the Pacific Ocean. One of the commercial trip s many parts, which was already a logistical nightmare, was to helicopter portage around an impassable canyon to the West Fork of the Klinaklini, and then paddle out to Knight Inlet. While on the flight, I caught a glimpse of where the calm meandering river flowed from the wide valley into a steep canyon carving through the rugged peaks. I wondered what was down there and hoped, one day, to find out.
It turns out I wasn t the only one curious about this canyon and its mysterious gorges. A friend of mine, Jo Kemper, was also interested. Upon further research, we found that four teams had attempted it in the past; however, none had completed a full descent. I found the group who had made the first, and most complete attempt, as well as read one of the other groups trip report, yet there was still very little information about the actual whitewater and characteristics of the canyon. We gathered what we could from those conversations and GoogleEarth and soon we were planning an expedition. - The team, composed of Jo and myself, as well as Jordan Slaughter and Darby McAdams, met up in Whistler, where we loaded all of our gear into a CRV and headed north to Nimpo Lake. To get the team and all of our gear into Klinaklini Lake where we would begin our paddle, we flew in a Beaver, loaded with all the kayaks and one person, and a Cessna, loaded with the rest of us. The Beaver flew direct and the Cessna went for a scout flight over the Canyon. It turns out I wasn t the only one curious about this canyon and its mysterious gorges. It felt good to finally get eyes on the gorges. There were some huge rapids that we all agreed would require portaging, and I was confident we would be able to navigate the majority of the canyon at river level. Trip planning led to a late season launch because we were hoping the water would be low enough to move along the boulders and gravel bars rather than in the forests above.
When the floats touched down at Klinaklini Lake, I was fighting the need to barf up my breakfast after the bumpy ride in the small plane. However, as I zipped up my dry suit and packed my boat, the excitement of being back on the Klinaklini quickly overcame the grumbling in my stomach. All the challenges and logistics that I had been juggling before the trip dissipated with each paddle stroke. That first day of paddling brought two big rapids named Little Drop of Horrors and Nobody Move. Due to the low volume of water, the first rapid had a large hole backed up by an undercut rock. We all decided to portage the top section and put in halfway down the rapid. The second one was much cleaner and Jordan and Jo led the charge, followed by Darby and myself. Aside from a few portages around logs, the first day was smooth covering a lot of ground through beautiful scenery. That night we camped on a gravel bar just downstream of the North Klinaklini Confluence.
The next morning we awoke to stormy weather and noticed the river had risen about a foot up the bank. We assumed it was the diurnal fluctuation that occurs with glacial fed rivers like the North Fork of the Klinaklini and made a mental note of lowest flows in the afternoon as we moved farther downstream. However, over the course of the day, as we paddled closer to the coast, it began raining harder and harder. In the afternoon, we reached a major tributary spotted from the plane and it was pumping significantly more water than seen from the flight the previous day. Rounding another corner, we saw a gushing torrent of brown water falling from a waterfall that had been dry less than 24 hours before.
Even when the rain stopped that afternoon, the river continued to rise. When we came up to the first rapid later in the day, we estimated the river had grown by almost half its original volume. A thick fog had settled into the river corridor creating an ominous feeling as we worked our way downstream. The whitewater was picking up, the canyon walls were steepening, and there were sections with less than thirty metres of visibility. We were able to paddle a ways into the flooded gorge before we felt we needed to catch an eddy and scout downstream. It was getting dark so we found a camp on a mossy pad above a cliff overlooking the river. We established a gauge rock next to a big hydraulic feature and decided that if the river dropped in the morning we would continue downstream in our kayaks. However, if the river was the same level or higher we would start portaging because we did not want to risk getting locked in without an exit eddy above the first major rapid.
The next day, we woke to blue sky but the river had risen substantially and our gauge rock was underwater. The hydraulic feature had turned into a massive crashing wave and so we decided to start the big portage. I was optimistic and hoped that with the day or two it would take to walk around the un-runnable rapid, the river level would drop and we could continue on with the original plan.
After a morning of wrestling our fully loaded kayaks through the forest, we decided to split our loads and move forward by doing two trips one with gear and one with the boats. We made better progress with the lighter loads, especially as the terrain steepened. That night we slept in a huckleberry patch and then got up early and continued bushwhacking through the steep, mossy, devil's club-infested canyon. Halfway through the day, the terrain got even steeper and we realized our pace was too slow, between the two trips and carrying our awkward kayaks. We decided to leave the kayaks and hike straight out to the logging road. Once we reached our lifeline out, we could reassess our options and either continue walking or return for the boats and keep paddling.
Getting to the logging road proved harder than we anticipated. After six hours of hiking with no water, as we hadn t crossed any side creeks and we were portaging hundreds of feet above the river, we saw the cut block and the logging road we were aiming for. Unfortunately, there was a steep, flooded tributary between us and our way out. We spent the night next to the raging creek and got an early start to return to the boats to grab the rest of the gear. The river hadn t dropped and we made the difficult decision to leave our kayaks so we could get back to the creek faster and have more time to focus our efforts on getting across it and starting the long hike out. It took us a full day to return to the boats for the rest of the gear and then hike back. That evening, while Jordan and Darby made dinner, Jo and I scouted down to the confluence in search of a safe place to cross. When we reached the Klinaklini, I hoped that it had dropped and paddling out could be one of our options. As those thoughts were crossing my mind, I saw a full-sized old growth tree floating down the brown, flooded river and knew that wasn't going to be possible.
So far, the only possible place we found to cross involved about a five-foot jump onto a partially submerged log, which was positioned a few metres above a waterfall that dropped into a sieve jammed with logs. The margin for error was so high that the idea made me sick to my stomach. We spent a second night at the same camp spot and I started to feel the stress of time. We weren t moving very fast with all of our stuff and now that we had left the boats, we needed to get across the creek as quickly as possible the next morning and put in some long days to hike out before our food ran out. Early the next morning, Jo and I scouted upstream while Jordan and Darby tried to build a beaver dam by throwing sticks into the river by the submerged log. After a few hours we returned, neither group successful. It was time to assess our options. We hadn t seen a good place to ferry across and, on top of that, it would take at least two days to go back and get a kayak. We also agreed that the move to jump onto the log was too risky. We were trapped by the terrain. I was frustrated. The only thing between us and getting out was getting one person across. If we could get one person over to anchor a line, we could rig a zip line and move everyone else over safely. We had exhausted every option aside from going all the way up into the alpine and trying to cross near the source, which would have put kayakers into mountaineer s terrain on a timeline that wasn t realistic.
We decided to message our emergency contact and ask if there was anywhere within a three days hike on our side of the tributary where a helicopter could land. Unfortunately, with the river rise, all the gravel bars on the Klinaklini were now underwater and we had moved deep enough into the canyon that the terrain was extremely steep and not helicopter friendly.
Ultimately, we decided the best option was to have our emergency contact get in touch with Search and Rescue to check options. It was hard to justify because no one was hurt and we still had three days of food, but we all agreed that nothing compared to losing a friend if something went wrong with the log crossing. From that point on, it was out of our control and we were told to wait for directions and not move. Later that evening, a helicopter was circling the forest above us. We were camped in the forest so I ran out onto a nearby rock outcropping with a sleeping pad to help signal where we were. We eventually made contact and through some hand signals they told me it was getting too dark and they would return the next morning. The following day, we were ready with the light. It had rained and there was a thick fog that severely decreased visibility. We ended up waiting on the rock outcropping with all of our stuff packed and ready but the weather never cleared enough for SAR to return. It wasn t until early afternoon the next day that we heard the helicopter flying around the area. Not long after, it was hovering above us, dropping two guys, Richard and Daryl, off on the rock outcropping via long line. They proceeded to pull us out individually by swinging us over to the cut block where there was an old logging road was flat enough to land on. Once everyone was out, they loaded us in the helicopter and took us to Campbell River on Vancouver Island. Spirits were low but the team was safe and extremely grateful for everyone s help.
The journey was still far from over. The original plan was to fly from Knight Inlet back to Nimpo Lake via float plane. We hoped we could still get picked up in Campbell River, yet it was late in the day, so we wouldn t be able to fly until the next morning. The story goes on as we were in a bit of a predicament; none of us had our ID s or wallets, and we had just been thrown back into the world where you couldn t just find any flat spot to set up the Megamid for the night. The RCMP officer that was in charge of our case was super nice and ended up loading us up in the back of his cop car taking us to dinner at Tim Horton s. After that, he gave us the tour of Campbell River and tried helping us find a hotel. After a few failed attempts without our ID s and wallets, Daryl, the head of the SAR team, invited us to camp on his living room floor. I can t even begin to express how much we appreciated Daryl and his family s generosity and a hot shower We ended up being stuck in Campbell River for a few days due to heavy fog. I finally figured out how to get money out of my old Canadian bank account from when I was a student, but between all of us funds were a bit tight. The weather continued on its noncooperative trend and we eventually decided to skip the floatplane and go for the overland route back to the car.
An early morning walk, a short ride crammed into a small Subaru, a bus to Nanaimo, a ferry to Horseshoe Bay, a couple of hours with our thumbs out, and a taxi ride got us off the island and back to Whistler where our friends met us with the car. - It is said that when faced with a survival situation, animals have three responses: fight, flight, or play dead. We went into this trip ready to put everything we had into making a complete descent of the canyon. Then, for reasons out of our control, we were forced to hike out. Although we knew we weren t going to accomplish our goal, we had a Plan B and we were confident in our knowledge and abilities. That s when another natural phenomenon forced us to call for help. While something like this can be hard for the human ego, physically and emotionally straining, and a significant use of resources, when it s all said and done, I am mindful of what s most important as I move forward from this experience. I am grateful for this opportunity to learn and grow as kayaker, a leader, and a person and I feel blessed to be able to continue exploring rivers in the future. I would like to extend a huge thank you to the Alpine Club of Canada and the Jen Higgins Grant for making this trip possible. I would also like to thank NRS and Hungry Hikers for their support. Additionally, I am so grateful to everyone at SAR who helped get our team out safely and to all the generous people who helped us along the way.