Louis Norris

I first met Middy when I was 18 years old. He picked me up with a mutual friend at my college dorm in the bay area for a weekend trip down the Middle Fork of the Feather. The drive was long, and Middy wasn’t interested in talking about kayaking; we discussed art, romance, books I was reading in school, vegetarian cooking as the night wore on.  There was evidence of his paddling resume that I missed during our first weekend paddling together. His gear looked like it was from the early 2000s (it was), he subsisted on a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter (very soviet), and he was supremely calm, borderline unimpressed, by the whitewater this classic stretch presented (I was not).  It was some time after that weekend that I learned about his paddling exploits in Central Asia. The stories of the walled in big water of “the Stans” became the backdrop of my kayaking dreams. I would find excuses to walk over to Middy’s house and pester him with questions about these rivers. He w...

I watched the black kayak in front of me disappear as it was engulfed in a sea of Manzanita. The midday sun beat down on us. I heard Ben Coleman grunt with effort as he picked up his kayak and put it back on his shoulder, safely through the first patch of bushes. I blinked sweat out of my eyes and plunged into the thicket Coleman had just navigated.  We were in the midst of another masochistic project in the Sierra. This one had all the familiar ingredients-- sleep deprivation, lots of hiking in the dark, sour candy and the kind of vision questing that can only be found by running scary class V 14 hours into your day. Our goal was simple; complete Upper Cherry, including the hike via West Cherry, the river, and the five mile paddle across Cherry Lake, twice in a day.  Ben Coleman, affectionately referred to as the “Phantom of the Sierra”, has spent more time paddling the rivers of the High Sierra than anyone in the last several decades. 25 years earlier, he completed the first...

The Middle Fork of the Kings is one of the best overnight trips in the world. It is a diverse experience, with a 12 mile hike over a 12,000 foot pass, low volume slides, boulder gardens, and after the confluence, a section that feels close to big water. The portaging is generally easy-- thanks mostly to a very well maintained trail running along the majority of the river. It’s my favorite river trip in the world and a place I make an effort to return to as often as possible.  The dream to kayak the Middle Fork of the Kings river in a day was both a shared and deeply individual project. Carson and Coleman have been at the cutting edge of California kayaking together for nearly a decade. They had dreamed, talked and planned this mission for the same amount of time. I am several years younger, and was not nearly as strong or skilled until recently. My ambitions for Middle Kings were a largely private endeavor and, for a long time, much more of a dream than a goal.  I suppose here...

“Heyyyyy bear!” Ben slapped his paddle against the boat sitting on his shoulder. It was two in the morning and were making as much noise as possible as we walked down the trail in the dark, hoping to make any bears in the nearby vicinity aware of our presence and hopefully too intimidated by our boisterous voices to contemplate having a middle of the night snack of two very haggard kayakers. Still, our pace picked up in this theoretically bear infested section before Ben stopped suddenly and checked the downloaded map on his phone. “Shit, we’re somehow on the Continental Divide Trail, we’re gonna have to backtrack”. There wasn’t much to say at that point. We turned around and walked back through the bear den before reconnecting with the correct route that would take us over the pass and into Bull Lake Creek.  It is often hard for me to pinpoint when precisely a dream becomes a goal. The Bull Lake single push onsight was no exception, and inspiration for this mission was drawn from...

From Louis Norris: A couple of days ago I lost one of my closest friends, a phenomenal paddler, and an incredibly kind human being. Abel meant so much to me. As a friend. As a kayak partner, and as someone who’s well-being and success I cared deeply about. Johnny and I are so proud to be his friend, and to see the progress he made in the last year of his life was deeply inspiring and humbling. He was a student of life. He wanted so badly to do things the right way- on the river and off. The last time I saw him was when he picked me up from SFO when I flew back from Madagascar. He was always there for me, remarking that “I can’t believe I get to pick you up!” We talked of many of the usual things on the drive- paddling dreams for the future, eccentric stories from my time overseas. He articulated how excited he was to move forward and continue chasing a good life centered around rivers. I feel so grateful for all the small moments and joy we shared together. His love for kayaking was un...