The Grand Idea
The notion of paddling the Truckee River from Lake Tahoe to Reno, a mostly rambling Class II river with a couple of manky (kayaker-speak for “ugly”) Class IV rapids here and there, is not the most popular thing to do. In fact, I’ve never heard of anyone doing it in one day.

I decided to go for it for three reasons: 1) To draw awareness to the river connecting Lake Tahoe to Reno; 2) To raise money for the Truckee River Watershed Council; 3) Because it sounded like a wild idea. I managed to recruit two ladies to try it with me. Tera Muir, a kayaking fanatic from Grass Valley, and Sonia Forgues, an all-around adventure girl from Truckee, put-in with me in the 34-degree darkness.

Harsh Reality
Within 20 minutes, the agony of scraping over phantom, shallow shoals was too much for Tera to bear and she decided hike back to the car and, well, bail.

Sonia went next. Her borrowed boat sprung a mystery leak and every 15 minutes she had to pull over to the side and empty the icy pool accumulated in the bottom of the kayak.

We were going nowhere. At 6:43 a.m. we finally reached the River Ranch, two hours and 2.7 miles from our put-in. We were not hopeful and Sonia finally read the writing on the wall and called her boyfriend Jeff to pick her up.

Nervous I’d have to quit the “expedition,” I reached out for a life-line and checked my messages. Keith Sheffield, editor of the Tahoe World, had phoned at 6 a.m. to say he’d been waiting back in Tahoe City since 5 a.m. wondering if he’d missed us. Earlier last week, I’d told him of our “expedition” and he’d volunteered to take photos of the mission. He said he could rendezvous with us near Squaw.
I decided to paddle on to meet him - I didn’t want to wake him up at 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning for nothing.

Knowing The River and Paddling The River
From Tahoe City to River Ranch, the Truckee meanders gently and slowly. After River Ranch, things turn up a notch. Small boulders are packed closer together and the flow and gradient pick up a little, creating some fun but bony, technical rapids. I met Keith and briefed him on our pre-dawn mayhem.

He gave me a handheld radio and said he’d follow me down the river along the highway if I wanted to continue. All the way to the Town of Truckee the river rambled busily over shallow boulders as I watched the morning sun disintegrate the fog that hung over the frigid water.

The name of the game was always finding the deep line. In Truckee and about 16 tributaries, drainages or culverts later the river swelled into a more navigable waterway. Technical rapids kept me busy all
the way to Glenshire where I met up with Liza. This was the first time I had met Liza, but I was incredibly happy to have a new companion on the river. Thirteen miles and a few good rapids later, we knew each other’s basic life stories and had become good friends. Then she said goodbye too.

The rapids after the Floriston exit off Interstate-80 pack a bigger punch than anywhere else on the river. First off, there are three dams. I portaged all three, but believe the second is runnable on the far right at the right level. The river swelled and shrank as mechanical man-pulled water out and plumbed water into the Truckee. The topography began to change, tall, blocky tan cliffs fit for the homes of mountain lions rose straight out of the river in places. Sage and the smell of cold rain drops hitting dry dirt scented the air.

Hard, cold rain smacked into the river - and my face. Before long, though I hadn’t rolled once on the entire trip, I was drenched. Then the wind picked up. I dug deep knowing that Keith would be waiting for me in Verdi with some Taco Bell goodness.

Fighting Temptation
There in Verdi in Keith’s truck, my tummy full of food, warm air blasting from the vents, I had to answer a deeply personal question - call it a day, or continue another 10 miles to the finish where there’d be no welcoming committee, no medals handed out.
“I tried to do the Gunbarrel 25 this year too,” I told Keith. “And I didn’t
finish that either. That pissed me off.” After blurting out those words, I
wondered if they’d be enough to awaken that blind determination that had taken me this far.

And?
It was. The total trip took 15 hours and five minutes and at 7:47 p.m. on Sunday, May 4 I completed my journey by paddling right up to the island at Wingfield Park.

Check out the video below!