I like to think that I generally make good decisions but this trip ended up being one where my better judgement succumbed to the less insightful enthusiasm of others. I’ve been down the Santa Margarita River through Temecula Gorge a lot, perhaps more times than anyone else in the past five years, but at least twice as many times I have watched the stream gage hoping for conditions that did not materialize and walked away from it, at least one time at the put-in. The river only rises in response to rains, with the usual conditions requiring high intensity rains totaling over 1.5”, which means a very abrupt and unpredictable rise to some peak and a more gradual but still ephemeral decay, usually resulting in a few hours of boatable conditions. Often the peak would be forecast to be overnight, requiring 4AM wake-ups to check the current trend and decide whether it would be in range in daylight hours. This time around was different. Keith was out with sickness and so I got connected with three other SD kayakers keen for a lap. Against my better judgment they were interested in going in on the rising side of the flood pulse because it is all that would work with daylight timing. I stated that I wasn’t interested in really going in above 550cfs, the previously highest I had run it which I thought was a little too pushy to be a pleasant trip. I was interested enough to pack and meet them at the put-in after they had set shuttle. I drove through some impressively torrential bursts of rain on my way through Murrieta.
I arrived at the put-in where I met the three. Sam was fully dressed and ready to go, Eric was on the fence, and Mike decided he was not interested. The last gage reading came in around 550 cfs indicating a steep climb from the previous reading and at the boundary of what I normally would be willing to run. Sam was raring to drum up enthusiasm and they had already gone through setting up the shuttle. I was the one with the most experience with the run, most likely to be able to lead us through the lines efficiently. It should only take us 2 hours…my judgment lapsed and I said alright, rushing to dress, inflate, and stash my boat at the Jack in the Box. I told myself you had to get the water while you can in SoCal.
We put on and I quickly noted the high flow but was not worried at this point. We turned the corner into the gorge and on we went. The features were bigger than I had ever seen, the flow more pushy. One rapid had us ferrying very hard to avoid two straining trees before reaching the channel. I got stuck on the first, pushed myself off, got stuck on the second, and barely barely freed myself without flipping. Eric hit this second tree, flipped, and swam requiring rescue assistance. It was only the second time ever that he had swam so he was now on edge and intimidated. Soon after I flipped on a small hole and the next small hole down surprised me by holding me for perhaps 10 seconds on the spin cycle until I found something to push off of. We had a sobering realization that we were not far into the run. We had a hard balance to manage: take the time to scout or portage rapids or risk swims that would slow us down further. The longer we took, the higher the flows would get.
We ended up scouting a few features and portaging a couple too. The road crossing corridor was more continuous than I had ever seen with some more retentive holes to avoid. Oddly the river left waterfall was completely dry. The two rapids before the river right waterfall intimidated me so I portaged those along with Eric. Sam seemed in his element, cruising through everything with ease.
We ran some more, we portaged some more. Everything was getting very pushy. We made it through the canyon’s S-bends. Eric and I portaged the long railroad crossing rapid on the left. There was a short rapid with a retentive ledge hole that seemed just as easy to portage in a pack raft and so I did. Sam convinced Eric to run it and served as safety. Eric went in, got stuck, fought the good fight, flipped and swam. Sam was able to get a throw rope to Eric but his boat was long gone. I tried running after it but this was the start of a continuous one-mile long rapid that the boat ran out with ease. So this was a considerable setback. Sam got in his boat and paddled downriver after Eric’s boat. I did a long portage with Eric on the old remnant of the railroad bed on river right, carefully avoiding contact between my boat and the prickly pear cacti. The view of the river, normally a nice pool-drop section, was thoroughly impressive as a mile-long don’t-mess-up freight train of whitewater. Eventually we caught up with Sam who was babysitting Eric’s boat beached on some mid-river willows.
We had more time-wasting antics getting the boat to shore. We did on our third try. Sam managed to forget his phone a mile up at the flip and so we waited while he retrieved it and sent a few texts with the InReach in the meantime. We got the report that the gage hit 1100 cfs and was still rising! We were fast losing daylight with lots to go still. It wasn’t looking good. We would need a clean run to make it to the cars before dark.
We proceeded cautiously and before too long had another rapid worth portaging. At this point Eric had enough and wanted to drop his boat and hike the rest of the way out. Sam was definitely keen to boat out and that made the most sense. I would have paddled out too, gripped but probably ok but we had only two headlamps between the three of us and I didn’t think it wise to leave Eric to fend with the scrub by himself, especially considering he would have to cross the river somehow. So we said goodbye to Sam (who bombed down and made it out in 20 minutes!), I deflated my boat, and we started out sidling up and down through the scrub. In places it was dense, in places it was covered in poison oak. I had the right shoes for boating but wrong ones for hiking. We were in a frenzy to get out and so kept our drysuits on, both of us miserable sweaty messes. Eric and I chatted most of the way which certainly helped make the slow progress more manageable. Nevertheless it was a solid sufferfest. Sharing a headlamp was not ideal but worked ok. It was a long slow 1.5 miles to reach the first and only convincing place to try to cross the river. I inflated my packraft and ferried Eric across as he hung on to the back of the boat, which worked even better than I thought. Once across we deflated the boat and continued on. The gorge now started to open into the last 0.5 miles to the takeout where Eric was able to text that we were good. The final stroll was through avocado orchards where we met the other two. In all it took us 2.3 hrs to go 2 miles. It could have been much worse. Apparently the sheriff was called on us for a possible search and rescue and we had some worried friends and partners to assure. It was miserable but fine. We had a good plan and made it work. Poor Eric has to get back in there for his boat and paddle.
So I learned a series of lessons. This will be the first and last time I jump on a SoCal river on its rising flood pulse and I will try to be more conscious about the enthusiasm of others I don’t know and time investment (drive and set shuttle) swaying me into what is clearly a poor decision. I was well prepared and in control of the situation as it continued to evolve (it was certainly never a rescue scenario) but the misery did pile on. It was really neat to see the Santa Margarita at 1100 cfs, particularly the long sections of continuous rapids. Even though I had most recently come off the might Zambezi River, it was a pushy technical nonstop run at the flows I could have happily done without boating. Lots of driving, poison oak, and cleaning for about an hour of paddling. Live and learn.
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