Taking on Lake Pend Oreille by paddle
A lot can happen in a decade; perspectives and opinions shift, friends cycle into and out of your life, physical fitness levels fluctuate, and the needs of family change. In my case, all those things took place over the last 10-plus years. However, one thing has remained unchanged and that is my sense of adventure — my insatiable drive to be in wild places as much as possible.
The origins of this story date back 10 years ago when I embarked on what would be the largest kayaking trip I had ever attempted. An old friend and I set off to make a five-day, four-night circumnavigation by sea kayak of the largest lake in North Idaho, Lake Pend Oreille, which spans 148 square miles. Long story short, we did not make it. We paddled 72 miles in two days and were stopped by extreme heat exhaustion, a lack of sleep and the most violent and sustained lightning and thunderstorms I had ever seen. I knew I would be back some day. I needed revenge. I needed retribution. This was a goal I could not and would not lose sight of.
The years seemed to fly by. After getting married and welcoming three daughters into our family, my wife and I had to pull back on our adventurous lifestyle. I was unable to keep the fire for paddling roaring, but I did keep the coals hot. All the while, Lake Pend Oreille kept calling me back. That place of wonder and awe, danger and mystery. Its immense rugged beauty and absolutely bipolar weather patterns are enough to keep any adventurer enthralled for decades.
» An epic return
Finally, the time had come to reignite the fire inside me and get redemption on that failed expedition from my past.
I texted my buddy Dave Spoelstra and asked him if he was interested in circumnavigating the lake in the fall. His immediate answer was “Hell yes!” See, Dave has a similar drive and enthusiasm for adventure as well as very similar skills, having been an active kayaker in both whitewater and sea kayaking for about two decades.
We decided to set out sometime near the end of September or early October to avoid the heat of summer but also to slip through before the angry autumn storms churned the lake into a dangerous roiling froth. Over the course of a couple of months, and as time quickly ticked by toward our launch date, we poured over the necessary details of the trip.
We planned breakfasts, lunches, dinners and all of the possible snacking in between, making sure we had the right balance of nutrients to keep us charging during the long days and help our bodies recover while hanging out and sleeping at camp. And we carefully planned out what type of gear we would need, making sure to consider weight and redundancy. It is critically important that the kayaks are loaded evenly from front to back so that they track through the water correctly.
Finally, the day before the trip arrived. My cousin Michael, who had just flown in to join us on the trip, was in for a sort of “trial by fire.” He had only paddled a couple of times in his lifetime. Luckily, he is extremely athletic, and stubbornness runs in the family. I knew he would power through.
Despite being somewhat nervous, I slept well and woke up on time. Michael and I quickly gathered our last few items and headed out the door in the pre-dawn darkness. It was chilly and raining, and despite earlier forecasts calling for abundant sunshine it was now looking like thunderstorms.
» Calm before the storm
We drove to Sandpoint and arrived at our planned launch around 5:30 a.m. By 6:10, we were sitting in the kayaks, paddle blades and hulls cutting silently through the inky darkness along the Long Bridge and toward the opposite shore.
The first half of the day went smoothly. The lake was calm as we made our way east past densely forested shorelines interspersed with magnificent palatial homes. As we paddled along and rounded the corner into Martin Bay, I noticed an ominous sign that I knew all too well on this lake: that shrouded white line of weather making its way up and across the lake.
It had started to rain quite heavily an hour or so before this point, but visibility was still good and the water was quite glass-like. Once we came around the corner and started to turn south into the main body of the lake, the magnificent view of the Green Monarch Mountains disappeared behind a wall of clouds and rain. Almost immediately, we started paddling into 3-foot-tall swells. At that point, I knew we were in for a fight with almost 15 miles more to paddle to get to camp.
As soon as we crossed Martin Bay and rounded the corner toward Camp Bay, it was on! The wave height quickly increased to around 6 feet with many of waves breaking in open water. Visibility degraded and the wind was howling straight into our faces at a sustained 40 miles per hour or more. We fought through the storm for miles, occasionally darting into tiny coves lined with cliffs where we would regroup and take shelter from the wind. Once we were ready again, we would paddle out into the onslaught once more, always keeping our end goal in mind. At one point, we ended up closely matching the speed of a large, ocean-worthy fishing boat that was struggling mightily a short distance alongside us.
After hours of this struggle, we finally made our way past Green Bay and to the point where we needed to decide whether to continue another mile to Garfield Bay or head south another seven miles to our planned camp. The decision was unanimous, we would head to Garfield Bay for the night.
» A new day
We were treated to a stunning sunrise; mist floated around the faces and peaks of the Green Monarchs across the lake, and we could see things were much calmer. We quickly packed the boats.
We got lucky and paddled down to Bayview with a tailwind, catching the occasional surf from small swells that would roll through with the breeze. Halfway through the day, Michael caught a large trout while trailing a lure behind his kayak. Once in Bayview, my long-time friends Molly and Cameron of Great Northern Nautical welcomed us onto their dock to hang out for a while.
By 5 p.m. it was time to get back on the water and paddle the final few miles to our camp for the night. We paddled under the awe-inspiring Bernard Cliffs, whose rugged faces tower straight out of the water and up 2,700 feet to Bernard Peak. Sadly, we did not see any local mountain goats that evening but did find a perfect camp to set up our hammocks. Morning came early after we stayed up far too late the night before. The routine was becoming more practiced and automatic now. Get up, tear down the hammocks and pack away the sleep systems. Get dressed into the day’s gear, eat breakfast, pack the boats and get on the water. Day three was to be a long one. We would be paddling the length of the entire eastern shoreline all the way to Johnson Creek Bar on the Clark Fork Delta.
The lake was mirror-like again for the entirety of the paddle. We even had our friend Jeff Durocher stop by and say hello from his boat as well as my parents in their boat later in the day. Late afternoon, we stopped for a quick snack break on my parents’ boat out past Indian Point under the towering Green Monarch Mountains. These mountains are impressive, but the scale simply cannot be truly appreciated until you paddle underneath them in a 17-foot kayak. After a short visit on the boat, we loaded back into our kayaks for the final 6 miles of our 27-mile day.
Despite the exhaustion, we sprinted across the delta while watching the sunset over the lake. We arrived just as it was getting dark to what would be our best campsite of the trip. With three fresh Kokanee salmon that Jeff caught and a couple bundles of firewood that we packed across the delta on the decks of our kayaks, we built a nice fire, ate a good dinner and then crashed hard. Easier days were ahead, and we had completed well over half of the trip.
» Reaching the finish line
The next morning, we headed west toward Sandpoint. We were back into the “civilized” portion of the lake. It was a great day, and we were able to paddle 19 miles quite quickly. We found camp at a fantastic sunny beach a dozen miles from our destination. It was a welcome gift to get to camp early enough to take advantage of the heat from the sun to completely dry our gear and clothes and for the first time this trip.
That night we built a giant bonfire with dry driftwood and watched the moon glide across the southern horizon. The lights of Sandpoint beckoned us from afar. We knew the next day would mean victory.
The morning was filled with excitement. We knew we had this one in the bag. A “short” 11 to 12 miles was all we needed to finish this trip out. We got on the water after a relaxing morning and maintained a leisurely pace west in the blazing sun. We stopped for a quick snack at the end of the Pend Oreille Bay Trail and stretched our legs for a few minutes enjoying the view of Scotchman Peak, the Cabinet Mountains and the Green Monarchs. We joked about how just a couple days prior we had been paddling below those huge mountains now dozens of miles away.
After the break, we got back in our kayaks to make the final 5-mile push back to where we launched. A little over an hour later, we slid onto the beach. Having traveled 110 miles in five days, we were tired but also elated. I had finally accomplished a decade-long dream, this time with an incredible team instrumental in making it a success. N
Story & Photography By Chris Celentano
As Featured In: Winter/Spring 2023
