The record - determine drought in California has been big word lately — at least on the west coast , where it was late announced thatCentral Valley farmers will get no pee this yearfrom the federal government activity , and aGold Rush ghost townsfolk hidden underwater since 1955 has resurfacedat the bottom of Folsom Lake .
Most of our rivers depend on snowpack in the Sierra , and the lack of precip this winter not only hurts the state of agriculture in the sleep of the land , it also means no fishing , mediocre skiing , and perchance kayaking ( if we ’re lucky ) in the spring . We might get a week or two of whitewater if we see the river flows closely , liken to the four - month windowpane we normally get in a dear season , and it ’ll be a cast away - up whether one of our favorite rivers will be running at all this twelvemonth .
I’vewritten about the East Fork Carsonbefore on this web log , and it ’s become one of my favourite summertime discharge . The river crosses the California border into Nevada and I ’ve paddle the 20 - mile stretchability between Markleeville and Gardnerville every twelvemonth for the preceding three years . It ’s stupefying to translate my first trip-up report from 2011 , where we experienced high - than - normal snowpack and intense flow as lately as July !
While last yr was n’t a particularly strong year for river rapids , we monitored the flow charts for weeks and made our way to Markleeville as soon as we saw a stiletto heel in the gauge . The Carson was at average flow in the midsection of May 2013 , with sunny sky in the prognosis and warm breezes at our backs .
We pulled off at the primitive live spring site at the halfway point and permit me tell you , that first soak after 10 mi of paddling was consummate happiness .
encampment on the river is something particular . It ’s made even more special when paddling is one of the few slipway to access this beautiful , tranquil sac in the Sierra . We saw only two other mass the whole weekend . All we could pick up at the campground was the sound of the river rushing past our tents … the periodic bird , the rustle of leaves , the crunch of footsteps passing through ourpine - mulchedcampsite .
I can almost feel the sunshine on my tegument and sense the pine in the air when I remember back to those two day we spent on the Carson . all spare , totally unwound . Take me back , please .
