Visiting Kenney at Oars

Emerald Mile Dory at Oars in Flagstaff, Arizona

We’re on a mission to deliver something up north, but nothing as important as this dory that got here back in 1983. The Emerald Mile is the very dory on which, during an extraordinary highwater moment on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, Kenton Grua and two other river guides, Rudi Petschek, and Steve “Wren” Reynolds, ran 277 miles of the river in just 36 hours, 38 minutes, and 29 seconds, a world record that holds to this day.

Caroline Wise and Steve Kenny at Oars in Flagstaff, Arizona

We, on the other hand, are here at the Oars warehouse in Flagstaff to hand off this knitted Viking hat Caroline handmade for Steve Kenney to compliment the colorful garb he drags down the Colorado River when he’s guiding river trips.

Oars in Flagstaff, Arizona

This is the off-season for Oars when they spend time repairing boats, dry bags, and other equipment to get ready for the quickly approaching spring. Once you’ve had the opportunity to run the Colorado in one of these agile dories, you will forever be enamored by their incredible countenance and remember the days you were so fortunate to experience them.

Steve Kenny's license plate at Oars in Flagstaff, Arizona

After hanging out a bit and enjoying our immersive tour of the facility, the three of us went for lunch at a nearby burger and brew pub before Caroline and I made our way, albeit slowly, back home. Steve’s license plate offered us a nice chuckle, as he certainly plays that role well.

Angry Vikings

Caroline and John Wise are angry Vikings Grrrrr

Hey Ms. Boo-Boo Lip, we are supposed to be Angry Vikings, not sad and tragic cattle on the way to slaughter.

Caroline and John Wise are angry Vikings, Gaaaarrrrrr

OK, that’s pretty good, but…I don’t think Vikings wore glasses.

Caroline and John Vikingsten getting ready to eat villagers we pillaged

I almost got it, but I cut off your horn. Let’s try this again.

Out of control hysterical Viking having problems maintaining her composure

Seriously? Get a grip or we’ll never be the cover stars of next year’s 1272 Super Viking Calendar. Laughing like a loon is not Viking, we grimace and instill fear in the hearts of the pathetic masses.

Frolicking Heidi with horns and Blue Steel Viking - oh yeah.

Quick, Blue Steel! Oh come on, I didn’t say Frolicking Heidi in the Alps face. I said Blue Steel baby.

Almost angry and kinda sceptical Vikings

I don’t know, I’m becoming a little skeptical that we can pull this off.

Truly Angry Vikings ready for plundering your fair maidens

Nailed it. We are The Angry Vikings, ready to plunder, pillage, get up in-your-face, and gore you with our fierce horns of knitted death.

Still There

Running a rapid on the Colorado river in the Grand Canyon October 2010

Two and a half months ago, Caroline and I finished an 18-day rafting trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. Truth is, we never really stopped that trip, and a part of us is there every day. Only recently have we been able to look at the video we shot; before this, the images were still too fresh in the mind’s eye. Watching it now, we can’t believe that we were down in that canyon riding whitewater surrounded by history as old as life itself.

For any other journey we have taken in the past years, there would be an accompanying blog entry, and there may yet be one posted here, but for now, all of my efforts go into simply finishing the story – which, by the way, I am currently at the end of day nine and have passed 35,000 words. Over time, I’ll be posting tidbits and moments up here, but first, I have a whole lot of work left in front of me just to finish telling the story.

CPAP and Camping

Dory trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon getting started at Lee's Ferry

Last year, my wife and I nabbed two seats on an 18-day dory trip rowing down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. This would be our first whitewater adventure and the first time I would need to use my CPAP without the ability to plug it into a wall outlet.

For months, I searched online forums, product literature, and called sleep apnea doctors, trying to find information on using a CPAP for an extended period of time off the grid. I came up with one story about using a battery backup during electrical outages following hurricanes in Florida. Another told of a guy who lugged 40-pound deep cycle marine batteries into the wild, but these would only be good for a couple, maybe three nights of use. I needed to find a solution that would give me the best results without having to move 240 pounds of batteries on a rafting trip. Other stories involved hunters using batteries, often directly from their vehicles, but those were never more than a day or two.

Considering I had almost one year left before our departure date, I was certain I would find answers. I learned that Sine Wave Inverters drain batteries fast. Then I found a travel CPAP, but it would require buying a new CPAP unit and 12 of their proprietary batteries. This still wasn’t the solution I wanted; I was determined to use the CPAP I am used to sleeping with and enjoying. Someone suggested solar, but we would be deep in the canyon with an uncertainty of available sunshine, not to mention the size requirements of a large enough panel; this eliminated the idea of bringing solar.

Halfway between the booking and the approaching launch date, I began getting nervous that I might have to go into this river trip without my CPAP after all, knowing this would negatively affect my enjoyment of the trip as I’d likely be falling asleep during the day while we were barreling through rapids or I’d be napping while the others were off exploring side canyons.

Then, I found Chris at theCPAPshop.com in New Jersey, who told me of a battery configuration that might meet my needs. He had sold this type of battery to other CPAP users, one who dragged it to Africa and someone else who took one to the Himalayas, and while both were satisfied, Chris didn’t have info regarding how many days and hours of charge the batteries delivered to these guys or if they had the opportunity to recharge the units during their trip. He offered to work with me so the two of us could learn how well someone can travel off-grid for an extended period of time with their CPAP.

CPAP equipment including battery inside tent at camp site next to the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon

The first 9-pound battery measuring just 10”x7”x3” arrived within a few days. I ensured the unit was fully charged and immediately started testing for what results I could expect. From what I had read on sleep forums, using the humidifier was out of the question, as the heating element requires too much electricity.

I connected one end of the ResMed DC Adapter unit to the battery pack and the other end to my ResMed S8 Elite just before going to sleep. My prescription level is 9.0; I start at full pressure and do not use a ramp. I left the humidifier attached but turned it off, hoping it would pick up some humidity and make sleeping as comfortable as possible. I logged the hour and minute when I started the CPAP and when I shut it down upon waking. I would unplug the DC adapter from the battery in the morning, making sure there was no further drain on the unit during the day. The battery performed wonderfully over a period of six nights, providing 40 hours and 55 minutes of usage, averaging 6.8 hours of sleep per night.

After this first test, I took my data card to my sleep doctor, who read and shared the data stored in my CPAP; my median pressure was running a solid 9 with little variance. My AHI score was consistently below 4 – perfect.

The second test was performed the same as above, but this time I recorded precisely 42 hours of usage or 7 hours of CPAP therapy per night.

For the third test, I removed the humidifier (my doctor recommended I use RoEzit Dermal Care to moisturize my nasal passages and minimize the chance of nose bleeds), then I lowered my pressure to 8.6 (against my doctor’s recommendation) using a 30-minute ramp starting at a pressure of 5. I was curious if the ramp and lower pressure would extend battery life. While the data card results showed no variance in my AHI score suggesting I was sleeping perfectly, I noticed a difference in both falling asleep and how I felt at night. For my efforts, I lost 4 minutes of battery power during this third test. Changing the pressure and using the ramp was worth exploring, but as I gained nothing, I decided against trying even lower pressures and longer ramp periods. The battery held 41.93 hours of charge for this test.

A second battery arrived, giving me enough time prior to our trip to ensure the unit was comparable to the first. After six full nights of sleep, the battery was fully discharged, and I logged just over 40 hours of use of my CPAP. I recharged the unit for a second run; this time, I logged just under 40 hours.

Now armed with two of these power bricks and just a week before heading down the Colorado, I felt confident that with approximately 82 hours of battery power, I would be in a better position to enjoy the journey. During the test period, I was sleeping 6 hours 48 minutes per night on average; with 82 hours of battery charge, I would be looking at about 5 hours of sleep therapy with my CPAP per night and the possibility of one and three-quarter hours of sleep without the CPAP. The alternative of not going on the trip or doing it without any therapy at all was not an option; I was happy with the solution Chris helped me put together.

Pelican 1550 case fitted for carrying CPAP gear on extended camping trip through the Grand Canyon on the Colorado River

Before leaving I borrowed a waterproof Pelican 1550 case measuring approximately 20”x17”x8” weighing 11.5 pounds. I packed both 9-pound batteries, my CPAP, a dozen camera batteries, assorted batteries for headlamps, GPS, tent lantern, writing materials, and other miscellaneous items into the case. If I were to buy a Pelican, I would consider either the model 1520, measuring 18”x13”x7” for $120 or the Pelican 1510 Carry-on Case with pull handle and wheels measuring 22”x14”x9” for $134, although it is a bit heavier at 13.5 pounds. With my sleep gear safe, the entire package weighed 38 pounds, still 2 pounds lighter than one marine battery.

How did the equipment hold up? My case easily fit on the inflatable rafts that carried our gear. It did get wet dozens of times on the river, to the point of being submerged when the woman rowing the raft figured out that it could fit below deck, but through it all, the contents were always dry. The case, while on the raft, had to endure some brutal class 8-10 rapids; upon landing onshore, it wasn’t always handled gently, but through it all, I never once encountered a single problem or malfunction.

How did things work out, and how cumbersome was it to drag the battery, CPAP, hose, DC converter, and mask into the tent every night? The first night felt awkward, mostly because I was expecting different results from what I had at home or some kind of equipment failure, but everything went fine. My first night’s setup had the CPAP and battery right next to my head in our tent; the noise interfered with my sleep, making me restless, although this could have also been the adrenaline of what we were doing combined with the noise of Soap Creek rapid not much more than 100 yards away. The second night, I pushed the battery and CPAP as far away towards my feet as possible, seeing I had a six-foot length of hose, and slept much better.

Each night, I would set an alarm to go off 5 hours from when I put the mask on. Around 3:00 a.m., I would wake, take off the mask, toss it to my right, and reach down to unplug the DC connector from the battery. Within 20 seconds, I was back to sleep; well, as much as anyone with sleep apnea can be asleep when therapy isn’t an option.

The plan to sleep 5 hours with the CPAP ended up needing some flexibility as waking up from a bladder that demanded attention 4 hours 15 minutes into the night simply had me unplug the unit, figuring I could use those 45 minutes on another night when I might really need it. During the first eight nights of our trip, I logged 39.5 hours on the first battery.

CPAP equipment including battery pack inside of tent used on 18 day Colorado River trip in the Grand Canyon

On the ninth night of our river trip, I pulled out the second battery. The following five nights all saw exactly 5 hours of usage. The night after, I felt a little indulgent and allowed myself five and three-quarter hours of CPAP usage. The sixteenth night would be my last as 3 ½ hours into the night, I lost power, meaning the final night on the river would be without CPAP. I had calculated that there would be one night without therapy, and that was okay as it would be our last night on the river.

My total battery time expectation had been 82 hours; I ended up with just under 79 and am absolutely happy with the results. Never once on the trip was I drowsy or in need of a midday nap. We were typically up before everyone but the boatmen, packed and ready for coffee by the time the camp wake-up call went out. In the evenings we were always two of the last people to leave the fire as we enjoyed every bit of music and storytelling that goes on during one of these epic trips. And I slept great; not one camping neighbor or my wife complained about my snoring, maybe because they were all fast asleep as I hit the loud notes in the wee hours after my mask was taken off.

So, if you should want to find yourself on a 5-day backpacking trek and don’t mind the extra 9 pounds of the battery and your CPAP unit, there is no excuse for you not to hit the trail. One of these battery packs would easily offer you eight luxurious hours of sleep a night on a 5-day trip. If you are planning a longer trip where access to electricity is certain not to be had, rest assured that you can count on close to 40 hours of use from each battery. By the way, Chris also carries smaller, lighter units that don’t have as much run time but do offer a lighter load for those shorter trips!

I am so comfortable with this setup that a week after our return, we booked a 10-day backcountry tour on horseback into Yellowstone National Park for next year and are considering an 11-day trip down the Tatshenshini-Alsek rivers in Alaska in August 2012 – these kinds of adventures need lots of planning and are often once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, ones that I don’t have to let sleep apnea stop me from enjoying.

More information at http://www.thecpapshop.com/ or call Chris and his great staff at 866-414-9700

Canyon Blooms

Flowers blooming on the Mums plant we were given on our Colorado River trip through the Grand Canyon back in November

Two months ago, Caroline and I were still on the Colorado River, floating through the Grand Canyon. Every day since then, we spend at least a few thoughts reminiscing about those perfect days. I have continued my writing about the experience and am presently in the middle of the sixth day, reaching over 21,000 words to describe my perceptions. Sorry, but this won’t be showing up on my blog any time soon, nor will the photos, as first I want to finish writing my story. But this entry is not about fond memories; it is about this flower. On the last day in the Canyon, trip leader Rondo handed off the potted mums that had sat table side during each and every meal we shared with our fellow passengers and the boatmen. Slowly the plant, which had been picked bare of blooms, is coming back and is putting smiles on our faces as we come and go – it sits outside by our front door.

Do You Know How To Fly?

Our tent shrinking from the wind that is pushing it about inside the Nest at Treebones Resort in Big Sur, California

Where to begin? Last night, we arrived at the nest with wind gusts of thirty to forty miles per hour. Caroline burrito’d herself deep into her sleeping bag while I stood an unwanted vigil to the flap flap flap of our tent fly. Whenever I thought it was getting worse and the mad flapping accelerated, a brief respite would momentarily offer an absolute calm. In a quick second, where I had just enough time to tell myself that the worst was over, the freight train would plow right back into my ears. Flap flap flap would drum at five six seven beats a second. All I needed was a thirty-second pause in the vitriol of the wind’s lament so I might taste sleep. But as soon as the quiet returned, up in the trees, a whooshing sound arose to announce the re-approaching roar and another round of flap flap flap. The nest sits about six feet from the edge of a steep cliffside next to two large trees. The rain fly is tied down and secure; it is stretched taught, and still, the onslaught from the southeast tearing over the ocean three hundred feet below and racing up the cliffs pounds our temporary cocoon. The flapping becomes a staccato of nylon tent slaps. After a half-hour of this, I rest an arm on Caroline and speak her name over the growing noise; during a lull I hear the familiar sound of her sleeping breaths. I let her sleep, and I rolled over.

There’s a remote likelihood I fell asleep, but it was for moments that collectively could not amount to more than ten to fifteen minutes per hour. Around 11:00 p.m., the pauses in the wind became less frequent; when there was a short break, I recognized how accustomed I was becoming to the constant vibrations affecting the nest. I asked Caroline if she was having trouble sleeping, but my words fell on deaf ears, buffeted by the roar, whoosh, flapping, and howl of a storm that was becoming a gale. With each successive wave of hostility blowing down on us I entertained thoughts of what would the repercussions of the nest falling over be. What if the direction of the wind suddenly changed and was blowing us toward the ocean? Could one of these trees topple, and its root system dislodge the foundation of this hopefully firmly cemented nest? Sadly, an engineering study of this structure’s stability wasn’t attached to the frame for quick middle-of-the-night reference. Maybe the nest’s entire superstructure will act as a parasail, taking us aloft for a ride from six feet above the cliff side’s crest to sea level for some midnight surfing on the angry ocean. My mind reels through endless scenarios that the wind is none too shy to help facilitate.

Caroline Wise outside the Nest on a rainy windy day at Treebones Resort in Big Sur, California

I grab my headlamp and start inspecting tie-downs to ensure they are still holding fast. Then, a thorough look once or twice over the fly, looking for signs of ripping. This opens the question of what would be the likely situation if the fly were to rip to shreds exposing the flimsy tent to the full force of the storm. The tent is holding up perfectly so far. Then the rain starts in earnest at 1:30. It stops after a brief twenty or thirty minutes, but as it does, the wind takes on a new ferocity. My feet at the south end of the tent are being lifted and slightly bounced around, not enough to startle me, but this is curious. The sound is deafening; how does Caroline sleep? The tent that should be a foot from my face starts to make contact, slapping me as it is pushed in repeatedly by the wind. I roll over. Great, now the bladder joins the chorus of things keeping me from sleep. The wind bears down with renewed threat; the nest is vibrating like a tuning fork. The woven branches click and make increasingly worrisome noises that play to the imagination that the worst could happen. Once again, I inspect the tent and fly for damage, certain we are near the shredding point.

Looking south from the Nest at Treebones Resort in Big Sur, California

ROAR screams the blast of rushing air; we are in a gale. At 2:30, I reach out in earnest and stir Caroline from the depths of her sleeping bag to let her know I have to pee and that I’m having difficulties falling asleep. We agree we can’t open the tent and climb down the ladder into this maelstrom and dig in to try to sleep through this barrage – what else can we do? But now Caroline’s slumbering ignorance of the situation has been destroyed. After another half hour, Caroline reaches over, and with a near panic sound of urgency in her voice, she says, “We need to get out of here now,” and something about the Three Little Piggies and a Wolf at the fly. As quickly as she voiced her concern, a large gust pushed down so hard that our tent momentarily collapsed upon our faces, and for a second, I’m not sure if this was wind or the nest starting to break apart, the tent bounced back up as the wind-down throttles. I turned on our little hanging LED lantern, agreeing with emphasis that we needed to leave now. To be sure, there would be no doubt in our resolve; the wind pounded down a second time, wrapping us with a skin-tight layer of tent canvas and testing our fear of entanglement with a nylon straight jacket.

View from inside the Birds Nest at Treebones Resort in Big Sur, California

We put on what clothes we could and piled up everything else in the center of the tent, hoping to leave enough weight that we might still find the tent here in the light of day. Just this side of panic, we open the tent and brace ourselves as I start to open the rain fly. Ten wet steps down the ladder with only a headlamp lighting the blackness, thoughts that my rain gear will act as a kite are quickly put to rest as I reach terra firma. I need to focus my light on Caroline, who will climb down next; she attempts to zip up the tent, getting to the point of agitation as the wind whips the flapping materials, making finding the zippers difficult. She gets everything closed up and steps over the threshold and down a few steps before zipping shut the fly. We move as quickly as we can away from our cliffside adventure, feeling slightly defeated.

Ah, the discomfort of a cramped, cold car, yet we bask in the luxury of it. Even here, the wind continues to rattle us, but who cares? The heater is on, and I’m about to get some sleep.

Our guest book entry at Treebones Resort in Big Sur, California

Four hours later, we crawl out of the car and head for the lobby where we stop at the guest book and leave them an impression of our visit.

Dining room at Treebones Resort in Big Sur, California

Next up, breakfast and then our departure for the long drive back to Phoenix, Arizona. This will quite possibly stand out as one of the greatest New Year’s adventures of our lives, offering us great views, unique lodging, thrills a minute, all the beautiful landscapes one might dream of, and non-stop fun. Thanks, Treebones, for a great ride into 2011.

Morro Rock on the California coast

With nearly 11 hours of driving required today, do we really have time for a walk on the beach in Morro Bay? Of course, we do. We’re John and Caroline Wise, and our middle names are Ocean-Junkies.