Churning The Kern in California’s Sierra Read Jetsetters Magazine at www.jetsettersmagazine.com Read this entire feature FREE with photos at: http://www.jetsettersmagazine.com/archive/jetezine/sports02/raft/kern/kern.htmlThere I was, peering down over
edge of a cliff, shivering as wind raced through my hair. I watched droplets of river water fall from tip of my nose 30 feet to rumbling whitewater below. This was why I had come; to finally put my seemingly endless slumber of everyday apathy to rest. (Opening photo: Voyage with Jetsetters Magazine writer Josh Edelson down Lower Kern River on a White Water Rafting Adventure.)
It had only been a few hours into day one and already we had carved a route through intense Class III rapids, participated in numerous water fights, and ate a lunch easily comparable to a five-course buffet on a cruise ship. Now, three stories above taunting Kern River, I stood there debating whether or not I had courage to jump.
A lot goes through your mind when you're standing atop a cliff, but this was what I came for — to feel scared; to feel nervous; to feel. . . something. In a world where society has trained us to become money making machines, we tend to forget about things that make us happy. We tend to forget what it's like to be out there, tasting scent of Earth, smelling sun.
The moment I stepped off that ledge, something happened to me. My heart started racing, my eyes opened like oyster shells, and for one brief moment, I forgot about years of career searching, constant pressure to build a family and an above average house, need for a status-symbol car. There was one thing on my mind as I was flying through air — that recurrent dream I've always had where I fall, and awake just as I hit ground. It was one of those dreams where you lose all control, and you know something? It felt good! I listened carefully as pitch and speed of wind in my ears rose as I fell faster, and faster toward beckoning river below. The hairs on my arms trembled with fear, my blood pressure rose; my brain was on information overload. Then "Splashdown!" My shoes slapped water like a bat on a tin trash can, and Kern River quickly gobbled me up and spit me out downstream to eddy where rest of my crew welcomed me back. Now, I was awake; now, I was alive.
The Lower Kern river is warm. Now arguably, someone from Alaska might think a 45 degree shower is warm, but I'm from California, and I'm telling you, this river was warm. The reason for this is because entire flow of Lower Kern is runoff from damn upstream which warms in Lake Isabella. It's based in The Sequoia National Forest — a national park dedicated to wildlife, fishing, camping, hiking, and of course whitewater rafting.
The trip starts in Kernville, a podunk little pay-before-you-pump type of town dubbed whitewater rafting capital; 40 minutes downstream on a rickety old bus, we reach our put-in. From here, Lower Kern River stampedes down a boulder filled gorge littered with curls of whitewater all throughout. It sporadically dashes from a lazy-river-like feel to powerfully snapping rapids. Its banks are lined with wild elk, blue heron, and other sorts of creatures that quench themselves here from scorching heat. In one spot, you actually have to exit river, and carry your raft around mother-of-all-rapids — a class V nicknamed "The Royal Flush".
