Kayaking Sespe Creek
Story by Charles Foster
Photos by Patrick Kruse

The helicopter came thumping through the Santa Clara River Valley, then veered up the lower reaches of Sespe Creek, straight towards us. "Sure hope he's not looking for us", I said to Keith. Patrick Kruse, Keith Dinger and I had set off on our first trip down Sespe Creek three and a half days earlier. The problem was, we'd told our families and friends that we'd only be gone for three days.

Sespe Creek is legendary amongst Southern California boaters. First run by Yvonne Chouinard, Royal Robbins, Reg Lake, John Wasserman, and Jackson Frishman in May 1984, it has since been successfully navigated by only two dozen or so boaters. Several trips have been interrupted or aborted due to rising water or inadequate skills. Many of the years since the first descent have been also been drought years, leaving the canyon with insufficient water for even the most rock-tolerant kayakers.

1995 was decidedly different, with Southern California receiving record amounts of rainfall. This wealth of precipitation made Sespe unapproachable for most of the winter. There was the added risk that, once on the run, another storm might roll in. I had been warned emphatically by Sespe veterans Richard Penny and Steve Harris to avoid this scenario, as high water could render much of the lower half of the run extremely hazardous.

Keith and I, having run nearby Piru Creek in early March, were eager to experience more Southern California wilderness boating. We set a date for mid-March, only to postpone the trip as one of the coldest storms of the winter hit the state. A week later, high pressure dominated the weather pattern, triggering warm Santa Ana winds. A quick drive to Fillmore to check the gage, a review of the extended weather forecast, and we were loading our dry bags. This new date allowed Patrick to join us.

Charles bashing rocks

Once on the river, the first fourteen miles pass easily. The creek goes with the grain of the local geology, meandering down a broad, sandy valley, and only rarely cutting across the sedimentary rock beds. Most of this section is Class II-III with a few fun Class IV rapids, and only the occasional willow hazard. There are fine views of the Topotopa Mountains to the south. These were covered with snow during our trip, and looked Alpine.

Trees flourish in this section. Cottonwoods and willows line the banks, punctuated by oaks and sycamores. The north-facing slopes are often crowded with pines, while the sunbaked slopes on river left are covered with impenetrable chaparral. There are many views of the interesting, rainbow-hued sandstone deposits. Some of the beds are loaded with fossils, including oysters, clams, and marine snails.

Several large landslides are encountered here. Amazing quantities of earth and rock have slumped into the river due to the heavy winter rains. These sections demand vigilance as the sharp rocks form some tight but runnable rapids. Hikers may be seen on their way to or from the famous Sespe Hot Springs, which are about a mile up Hot Springs Canyon, at mile 13.5. We also spotted a variety of interesting river debris, including a dirt bike plastered vertically to a tree by the winter floods.

Good tree-shaded campsites are numerous all along the upper half of the run due to the wide canyon bottom and low gradient. We chose one just upstream from Hot Springs Canyon. All of us brought good food for our first dinner: fresh ravioli, pasta, and other goodies, but Keith surprised us by pulling out a liter of red wine. This topped off the best self-support dinner I've had. Afterwards, we were too lazy to hike up to the hot springs.

We awoke to disturbing weather conditions. Thick clouds hid the sun, threatening rain. Eating leisurely breakfasts, we looked at the sky constantly. Eventually the clouds started breaking up and we pressed on downstream.

Pat heads south

The canyon walls rose higher and closer as we approached Alder Creek. Sespe Creek cuts across the grain of the geology as it heads south, and we started hitting some good rapids here. The level of commitment also increases dramatically at this point; only a few foot trails descend the steep canyon walls in the lower half of the run. Charles in a fun Class IV

Keith admires the Sespe Formation

Just below Alder Creek a side canyon dumps a selection of truck-sized purple boulders into Sespe Creek, creating a significant rapid. The source of the boulders, the Sespe Formation, is visible up the canyon and perhaps 1500 vertical feet above the river. We would soon become well acquainted with these boulders.

Sandstone ledges and avalanche debris comprise most of the harder rapids in the remainder of the run. A few miles below Alder Creek, we came across a particularly wicked hole. Portaging this drop involves an easy 20 foot crack climb (~5.3). This is an "interesting" climb as falling here means dropping into the very hole being portaged.

I led the pitch then body-belayed Patrick up to the ledge. We then hauled up the boats, chocking them into a crack. As Keith clambered onto the ledge, I started to move out of his way, and clumsily sent my boat careening down the steep descent ramp. It hit the water just below the hole, then made a beautiful ferry across the creek and into a big eddy. Patrick swam across to capture the wayward boat before it decided to finish the run without me.

Charles on the belay ledge

Keith prepares to catch a boat

The rocky camp

Dusk fell before we could find a decent camp. We beached on a desolate gravel bar. The previous night's spacious, sandy beach was just a fond memory as we shuffled rocks around, trying to make ourselves comfortable. After a quick dinner, we were serenaded to sleep by a chorus of frogs.

The morning of our third day dawned clear and beautiful. I lay in my bag, watching sunlight glint off a 747 enroute to Los Angeles International Airport, and realized that this was the only indication we were anywhere near one of the world's largest cities. We hadn't seen a soul since passing Hot Springs Creek, and wouldn't until just upstream of Fillmore. It's small wonder that this area was the last stronghold of the near-extinct California Condor.

Just across the creek was a small hot spring. I had a good soak before realizing it was littered with tar balls. They looked like black pearls, reflecting the morning light. Remarkably, I didn't get any tar on myself. That would come later in the day.

We boated down through some excellent rapids, and several portages, and finally reached the Tar Creek confluence. Tar Creek is a remarkable sight. Natural asphalt deposits line the banks, formed by tar that has mixed with sand and baked in the sun. Thick oil and tar balls bob down the creek, and petroleum stains the cliffs where it seeps out of the canyon walls. If this mess was manmade, it would be a superfund site. As its natural, it adds yet another interesting twist to the trip.

Keith ascends the stratigraphic column

Not far below Tar Creek the beautiful purple rock beds seen earlier in the trip reappear, this time at river level. (Geologically speaking, since the rock strata in this area dip to the south at a steeper angle than the river gradient, you ascend the stratigraphic column, climbing from the Cretaceous to the Quaternary, as you descend the river).

Tremendous boulders have calved off of the cliffs like purple icebergs, and completely choke the canyon. They're 30 to 40 feet high, and sometimes 80 or more feet across, but numbers do not convey the immensity of these boulders. They are as big as houses, and there are multitudes of them. These are the Sequoias of the boulder world. I've run Kings Canyon and the Cataracts of the Kern, and these famous, boulder choked gorges are put to shame by Sespe Creek.

Boating in this section is out of the question for mortals; although it does contain runnable drops, scouting from either the "shore" or from your boat is almost impossible; the boulders only offer tiny glimpses of the creek. Big sieves are visible in a fair percentage of these glimpses.

Progressing through this maze is the crux of the trip, and redefines the concept of portaging. We spent several hours dragging our boats over, under, and through this half-mile boulder field. Rock climbing experience was very useful to effect some of the required slab and chimney moves. While most of the climbing was done in free solo mode, there was one long chimney traverse where we had to resort to aid climbing, using our kayaks as a bridges. Often the boats were also jammed vertically and used as ladders. This was also a great opportunity for all of us to get liberal amounts of petroleum smeared on our gear and bodies as we wrestled with our tarry boats and waded through pools shimmering with purple and blue oil films. The feeling of accomplishment - and exhaustion - was tremendous as we approached the end of the portage.

A rare pool

While we did most of our portaging on river left, towards the bottom of this section the cliff walls closed in and we performed a nerve wracking ferry to river right, where we were again forced to shoulder our boats. It was at this point we realized there was no way we could cover the remaining distance to Devil's Gate before dark. As sunlight climbed the canyon walls we managed to boat some fun Class III-IV, interspersed with a few short carries, before setting up camp on a small sandbar. Dinner was easy: powerbars, soup, and whatever else we could find in the bottom of our drybags.

We got an early start on our "bonus" day, ate light breakfasts (easy to do when you're out of food), and rapidly paddled through some fun Class III/IV before hitting any portages. The canyon started opening up, and we all relaxed a bit, knowing it was just a short distance to the mouth of the canyon. This proved to be a mistake. We scouted a difficult drop with a questionable runout, and a combination of fatigue, hunger, and the need to finish the run convinced us it was runnable. Patrick, in his usual role as our fearless probe, got hammered in the hole below the drop and then suffered the only swim of the trip, scrabbling to shore just above a blind corner. Keith and I rapidly changed our minds about running the rapid; what was one more portage in the scheme of things?

This final portion of the canyon also includes several very enjoyable, long Class IV rapids, interspersed with pools. The signs of civilization become numerous: graffiti on the rocks, and telephone lines, road cuts, and oil tanks high on the hills. A pair of Class V ledge drops are present here, both of which can be easily portaged on river left. I regretted running the second of these drops after flipping and receiving a painful blow to my shoulder.

The gradient tapers off dramatically below these ledges, to less than 50 feet per mile. One or two Class IV rapids are followed by a 5 mile, Class II-III float through fragrant orange groves.

We were just above our takeout when the Ventura County Sheriff's helicopter circled overhead and touched down on a gravel bar. We beached our boats to talk with them. Keith's fiancee had called them after a sleepless night. The SAR crew radioed our status back to base, then took off in a shower of spray and sand.

Later, having cleaned most of the tar off ourselves with paint thinner, and calling home to let everyone know we were OK, we sat down to eat an enormous pizza. A good end to an excellent trip. We all agreed that we'd do the run again - after we had some time to forget about the portages.

The creek at a glance: Sespe Creek data table.

This document was last updated on Saturday, November 15, 1997

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