Editor’s Note: A big shout out to the people who helped me with last year’s Sacramento River trip, whose love and encouragement and tall tales and helpful hints supported this trip as well: Paul McHugh, John Weed, Gwenn Bezard, and my dear brothers-in-law Marc and John Soares. I bow in gratitude to you all. Of myself I do nothing.
Last year at this time I tried to do a 4 day, 3 night solo cruise down the Sacramento River, but was foiled by an injury. This year I came back with 2 buddies, Scott Becklund and Jerry Albright, and paddled 75 miles from Woodson Bridge to Colusa. It was the Best Trip Ever.
The trip came together with ease. No hitches, no snags, no hassles. On Wednesday, June 18, we met at Colusa to set up the shuttle, drove to Woodson Bridge, and launched about noon. The river was flowing between 10K to 11K cfs (3 to 4 mph), rising slightly throughout the trip. The temperature read 106F at Colusa, but on the river the temperature was perfect.
Slipping into river mode we quickly realized there are very few signs of civilization on this section of the water trail. Giant oaks overhang the banks, along with willows, alders, cottonwoods, sycamores, and black walnuts, all festooned with volunteer figs and wild grapevines. And then there was the wildlife…
On Day One we saw myriad birds: quail, white pelicans, vultures, great blue herons in excess, red tailed hawks, bald eagles, osprey, mourning doves, bank swallows, and white egrets. We saw three types of ducks: mallards, common mergansers, and wood ducks all with their ducklings. As the trip progressed, we added many more birds to our list: golden eagles, lesser nighthawks, kestrel, scrub jays, green herons, hooded cormorants, redwing blackbirds, killdeer, Canada geese, and kingfishers. We saw many other birds that we could not name.
We also heard many birds that we did not see. Jerry had an app on his phone that named the bird songs in real time. On June 21 as we were relaxing around camp we heard the calls of a Northern house wren, a Western wood pee wee, an American robin, a Bewick’s wren, a California quail, and a black-headed grosbeak. We seldom saw humans but we saw a number of deer, and Scott and Jerry saw bobcats on the bank one day. Scott, being a hunter, is used to spotting game and has developed an extremely sharp pair of eyes. He saw a lot of creatures I didn’t see, among them river otters. He even called my attention to a flock of uncommon white-faced ibis flying away on river right as we paddled. Tracks of all kinds lined the beaches.
We also saw a beaver one evening, swimming upriver in front of our camp. Evidence of beaver was everywhere. For one thing, on our second night beavers got onto Scott’s boat. Small beaver-chewed logs and culled willow branches littered the beaches, and we saw lots of beaver tracks, as well as beaver slides and beaver drags where the beavers had carried their harvest back to their dens.
On Day One we paddled 11.6 miles in about 3 hours, including a few stops, from Woodson Bridge to the Glenn-Colusa Irrigation Diversion Dam north of Hamilton City. We made up for that short day by paddling 26.7 miles on Day Two. This was our hardest day because not only was it the longest paddle of the trip but we also picked up some headwinds, especially in the afternoon.
When it was time to quit, Scott and Jerry chose a campsite on river right. That site didn’t suit me, but I saw another place just across the river that did, so I scooted over and camped in the shade under a big willow thicket. Just call me the Queen of Sheba. I could literally see the guys setting up their tents across the way, so it was like sleeping in the same house, just on a different floor.
The guys were totally happy with their choice, and I had everything I wanted: a high, dry, shady place protected from the wind where I could set up the tent and then sit and watch the guys across the river; a giant log on which to dry clothes; and a pebble beach with a big, calm eddy to swim in where I could paddle around and do somersaults and backflips to stretch out my spine.
About 25 miles down to Hamilton City from Blackberry Island below Red Bluff, the river flows away from any major roads, and the land surrounding it is a combination of private property and sections of the Sacramento River National Wildlife Refuge. At Hamilton City, the river meanders closer to State Highway 45 on the west, but Butte City is the only town right on the river till you get to Colusa. When you’re on the river it seems pretty remote. On the second night we camped below Hamilton near a wildlife refuge. Without the presence of humans, you’d think the night would be quiet. But no.
That night, not far away on my side of the river, a large pack of coyotes had a jamboree. A family of horned owls performed a call and response antiphony and bullfrogs boomed across the way. In the willow thicket next to the tent a nighthawk burbled its low trilling call, which sounds like someone blowing into a bottle in little bursts without stopping.
This went on all night. At first, I thought the call was that of some kind of owl, but now I know it was a night hawk because toward morning it stopped burbling, emitted a cough and a squawk, and flew out of the thicket right in front of the tent. Through the screened entrance I could see it zip away. Just to be sure, when I got home I looked it up and listened to a recording of the call. Night hawks eat bugs and are most active in the twilight hours at dawn and dusk. We saw several of them snatching insects over the river one evening right in front of our camp, zooming around like swallows, although the night hawks are larger than swallows and didn’t skim the water in the way that swallows do.
Then there were the beavers rustling in the thickets, gnawing the willows with a grinding sound and knocking down avalanches of pebbles as they dragged their branches up the sloping floodplain. They were also messing around in the river and slapping the water with their tails. The phrase “busy as a beaver” has a whole new meaning for me now. It was quite a night, and I didn’t get a lot of sleep, but the stars were beautiful and at early morning, the crescent moon rose in the east with Venus down low on the left. Stunning.
On Day Three we paddled 22.47 miles from where we had camped around the Jacinto State Wildlife Area to a spot on a bend near Gridley Road. Before the trip, knowing we might need some shade at our camps, I remembered the very useful “batwing” that my good friend and mentor Deb Volturno brought on our Baja expedition in 2019, so I wrote her and asked about it. She sent me a link to a site where I could buy an MSR Sun Shield, and it was 50% off. Bingo!
On Day Three we used the Sun Shield for the first time. We were pretty tired after two long days of paddling, so we didn’t worry too much about setting it up and making it perfect and didn’t spend a lot of time tensioning the lines, but the shade was very welcome and we were happy. It was also our last night on the river, and it was Solstice. Party time!
The Sun Shield was perfect for this camp site, and we spent most of the afternoon taking short swims and hanging out under its shade on the river bank. That night we toasted the Solstice and rolled into our tents pleased with our camp, ourselves, and the world.
On Day Four the wind came up again but by the Grace of the Universe it was a tailwind. Being as the river twists around a lot, there were a couple of times when we were actually paddling north, so the tailwind became a headwind. Mercifully those sections were short.
The wind reading at 8:12 am at the Marysville, Yuba County Airport was 17.2 mph NNW with 27.5 mph gusts, increasing throughout the day. We paddled about 14 miles to Colusa, averaging over 5 mph with stops, and it was pretty effortless. The wind gusts textured the water and at times it felt almost like flying. From time to time we put our paddles up to catch the wind and just sailed along. Best. Run. Ever.
While I was driving Scott back to Woodson so he could pick up his truck, we were high on the river vibe. I felt giddy, light as a feather, and kind of tingly like champagne was running in my veins. When Scott asked me what my favorite part of the trip was, I answered that everything was my favorite part: the river itself, the wildlife, the hot sun, the cold water, the big trees, and the smell of the sun on the willows. And of course, my friends who are brave enough to be cool acting a fool.
Scott agreed, but added that he loved how even before we got on the water, while we were in the planning stages and the three of us were communicating back and forth relating to dates, timing, gear, food, etc. everything went smooth as the river itself. He also waxed positively poetic when he said that while he had been looking forward to our trip, he did not expect to experience this kind of magic, in his own words, “the beauty and grace of this river”. Truly, we were blessed.
Writing this, the splendor and wonder of the river come over me, and my heart is full. Like the Psalm says, my cup runneth over. There were several times during this trip when something touched our hearts, and Scott and I were moved to tears of joy. Jerry isn’t a mushball like us, but he appreciates the river just as much as we do. It was a unique experience, and in all the adventuring I’ve done throughout my life I have never met anything quite like it.
The Sacramento River is the economic engine of California. It waters the Sacramento Valley, the northern region of the great Central Valley of California, and at its delta the waters are drawn into the California Aqueduct which waters the San Joaquin and Tulare Basins, an area of 18,000 square miles. The aqueduct eventually splits into the East, West, and Coastal Branches which end in reservoirs near San Bernardino, Los Angeles, and San Diego respectively. Because of the river, California has a multi-billion dollar economy and feeds much of the United States as well as the world. In fact, the State of California alone has the fourth largest economy in the world. Without the river, that vast economic engine would collapse.
The Sacramento River has been dammed and diked and diverted and pinched and squeezed in so many ways, yet despite all the things that have been done to try to tame her, the core of this majestic river is still as she was before Europeans arrived. My bet is that she will outlast the modern paradigm, and one day, with the help of the beavers, she’ll spread out over the land again and reconstruct the Paradise that once was this valley. Humans won’t be gone, but we’ll resume our natural place in the natural world, and nature’s balance will be restored. Suyanisqatsi.*
Thanks again to all the people who were instrumental in helping me pull this trip off, including the Sacramento River Preservation Trust for their map, the California Department of Boating and Waterways for their map, all the people who live and play and fish on the river and keep it (for the most part) so clean, and the environmentalists and forward-thinking farmers, hunters, and fishermen who have partnered to lobby government to preserve and protect this gem of rivers. Thanks too to Deb for the sunshade recommendation, and to Scott and Jerry, the best of friends, paddlers and kayak campers extraordinaire. By ourselves we do nothing.
*Suyanisqatsi (su-ya-nis-qat-si) according to a Hopi language lexicon translates to “life in balance” or life of “harmony and balance”, in contrast to koyaanisqatsi which means “life out of balance”. It represents a state of equilibrium and well-being, both individually and within a community.
We hope you’ve enjoyed our little trip report on our big river. Please chime in if you have questions or comments, or if you’d like to share your experiences on the Sacramento. We’d love to hear from you! Thanks and happy paddling!
What a well done summary of the trip Nancy.
After reading this ,I’m reliving the feelings I had and look forward to our next adventure.
Traveling with you and Jerry will be one of the highlights of the year and longer for sure.
Thanks for the inspiration and invitation to make this trip.
❤️