Joe Stock's Blog

Aconcagua

2012-02-06T16:14:17Z

If you think Aconcagua is a walk up then you're among the 70 percent. At 22,841 feet Aconcagua is the highest mountain outside of Asia. It is located in the Andes of Argentina, between the Malbec wine capital of Mendoza and Santiago, Chile. Aconcagua is one of the high points on the seven continents that includes Aconcagua, Denali, Kilimanjaro, Everest, Elbrus, Carstensz Pyramid and Vinson.

I guided Aconcagua three times for Alpine Ascents International in 2005 and 2006. This winter Garrett at AAI offered me a private with JP Bailey, a Canadian living in Manhattan. From previous trips I'd grown to appreciate the quality AAI offers when guiding the Seven Summits. On Aconcagua, AAI's recipe for success was developed by mountain legend Willie Prittie (imagine a high altitude version of Willie Nelson). Following Willie's recipe, and if the clients are healthy and strong, clients will get to Aconcagua's summit. Without Willie's recipe you'll probably join the 70 percent who don't summit. For comparison, Denali has a 46 percent no-summit rate.

I tore myself from the Alaska Wonderland and spent three sweaty and sleepless days in Mendoza preparing food for our 21-day trip. I packed the food and gear into mule loads, each able to withstand three days of mule treatment, which is equal to a turbo-charged paint shaker.

JP and I got to know each other over steak and Malbec at Francis Mallmann in Mendoza. The next morning we drove two hours to Penitentes, a 70's-era ski resort at 8,500-feet between Mendoza and Santiago, and unloaded our stuff at Grajales, our outfitter for the trip. Here's Pollo of Grajales weighing our loads.

Then JP and I started the three-day trek into base camp. JP retired several years ago and spends his time travelling the world. Brazil is his favorite.

We hiked with light backpacks in the sun. Easy walking through a Tibeten landscape. The movie Seven Years in Tibet was filmed near here.

While we strolled, the mules and arrieros worked.

It's a tough life for beasts of burden. The trail was lined with bones. It appears that Andean Condors don't like mule muzzle.

The most unique part of the journey is hanging with the arrieros (mule drivers). These guys are real cowboys, with spurs and knives crammed into the back of their pants. Here we're sharing Argentina's legendary asado (barbecue) with arrieros at Casa de Piedra.

Vegetation on the approach is covered with spikes. These pretty flowers have glass needles instead of spikes.

After the approach JP and I spent three days at Plaza Argentina, the base camp at 13,800 feet. JP is explaining to Annita, the Grajales manager at Plaza Argentina, that she is beautiful, doing an incredible job, and that we'd like to further our five-day steak-eating streak.

Bring your shoes! Base camp has bouldering.

The Buff is Aconcagua's ubiquitous gear. By recycling breath moisture through the fabric it is possible to avoid turning your throat into 80-grit sandpaper from pressure breathing the dry, dusty air.

Camp II at 17,700 feet at Ameghino Col. Success on Aconcagua is achieved by going slow, balls slow. We used the basic altitude recipe of climb high, sleep low and ascending 1,000 feet per day with a rest every three days. This means using the daily progression of carry a load, move camp, carry, rest, repeat. AAI uses two extra camps to achieve this progression.

Acclimatizing is about patience. Movies and books help. JP educated me on essential guy movies. On his Ipad we watched The Lord of War, Seven, Troy, Connair, Black Hawk Down and Blow. I also read The Lost City of Z, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell and No Angle.

Camp III at 19,200 feet with Cerro Ameghino and Aconcagua's shadow beyond. Each guyline is rocked down to withstand over 100 pounds of wind force. Due to logistics and weather we made this our high camp instead of the traditional AAI Camp IV at 20,600-feet. Summiting from Camp III made summit day long.

To the summit! Behind JP is the Polish Traverse that we just spent four hours climbing. Above this point we climbed at the rate of three breaths per step for 2,500 feet.

Summit! Yeah! Party like you're running with a sock in your mouth!

Descending at 21,500 feet at 7:30 pm. The route follows this trail to the Canteleta (couloir) that ascends 1,000 feet to the summit.

Looks more Fried than Chili out there.

The morning after summiting we packed up and crossed to the Plaza de Mulas base camp on the Normal Route, passing a mule that had a bad day at 19,000 feet.

JP descending to the city of Plaza de Mulas.

We could have stayed at Grajales in Plaza de Mulas and walked 16 miles out to the highway the next day. But we needed a shower and a bed ASAP.

Thanks for an awesome trip JP! I really enjoyed hanging with you. Good luck on your Seven Summits bid!

Cheers!

Weekend Warrior

2012-01-21T02:34:20Z

Last weekend was serious fun. Probably the most fun in the history of all weekends. Weekends are like organized events, but with no entrance fee. And the winner is the one who has the most fun. Clear skies and stable powder over last weekend made the competition huge, but I still won.

Weekend material near Anchorage-Turnagain Pass.

Good weekends depend on good people. Cathy, Jeff Conaway (our neighbor) and I went to Turnagain last Saturday. We found sun, an inversion for warm +10-degree F temps and off the hook skiing.

Cathy on our first run from Magnum. Jeff calls this run TC. I've never had a TV so Jeff was educating me about the Magnum PI cast.

Second run, into Goldpan, or is this Superbowl? Sorry Viking...

Jeff a body length ahead of his sluff. Ski fast or get out of the way.

Across the way another posse of amigos was having a good time. Here's Jeremy Wood taste-testing snow quality.

We confirmed there is no better place on the planet.

The next day Cathy and I skied with Paddy Sullivan. He's still riding the granola sticks but that's okay. Anyone who can rip 2,000 vert non-stop on smelly teles is a noble man. It's now also okay, after this day of touring up Spokane Creek and down Bertha Creek, that Paddy swiped our Spanish tenant. Awesome skiing with you Paddy!

"Don't feel any pressure Paddy, but do you mind skiing right now? The light has 20 seconds left! Now! No pressure, but right NOW!" Thanks Paddy!

Now I'm in Mendoza, Argentina hanging in the Alpine Ascents guide apartment with this guy. Dave and I worked together in the Cascades in 2006. He enjoys Turbo Truffles and baristas. Tomorrow I leave for Aconcagua for three weeks with JP from New York. Tonight JP and I drank malbec at Francis Mallmann and agreed that Sarah Palin is...well, anyway, JP and I will have a good trip.

Come spring I'll be back in the weekend contest. Watch out.

Wolverine Creek

2012-01-05T00:53:16Z

Turnagain is like a Grimms' Fairy Tale about a mystical paradise for backcountry skiers. Where the trees hang heavy with a winter coat of snow and the mountain sides are draped with fat powder. The locals frolic across this land. They laugh and smile and know there is no better place on the planet.

That's what Turnagain has reminded me over the past few days.

Jeff Conaway, Peter Thurston and I headed back Wolverine Creek to visit a new part of this mystical land. We skinned with our eyes up, looking at the mountains that hung in a soft haze of ice crystals, like a 100-year old painting. Wolverine Creek is one of eight main drainages on the non-motorized side of Turnagain Pass.

At the head of the valley we skied lower angle slopes to keep the roaring sluffs at a manageable level.

Peter lived in Girdwood back in the day. Now he lives in Salt Lake City, where the snow isn't happening. He came up for a month of Alaska's finest product.

The next day I returned with my wife Cathy, Gretchen and Ben. Gretchen and Ben just returned from a semester down south expanding their brains. They were sooooo glad to be home.

Ben's PhD had taken him to Juneau. He skied Eagle Crest ski area during breaks from the confuser. Back home he skis between glide cracks on the south side of Eddies.

We finished the day with a 2,000-foot chute on the north slopes of Eddies. Since there was no light in the chute I took photos of the alpenglow on this thing. Yeah this thing. This thing is starting to bug me.

Then I spent a day with Kevan Dee on a Tincan grand tour. Kevan grew up on a farm in northeast Colorado. Now he sells drill bits on the Slope, three weeks on, three weeks off. Kevan knows that AK rules!

Kevan on the summit of Tincan, ready to leave the light and drop into Todd's Run. Kevan saw the light in this Grimms' fairytale land and never wants to leave. I hope you don't Kevan. That was a blast!

Late Summer Jaunts

2011-11-19T01:52:37Z

I spent the late summer in Anchorage working on a guidebook and building a greenhouse...living the good life, playing in our backyard.

One lazy morning Cathy and I left Hiland Road hiking toward Girdwood over the Flute Glacier. It was supposed to be a day hike. It became an 8,000-foot, 28-mile day hike--a bit long for a lazy morning. Our hitching home plans backfired when darkness and rain caught us. It was a fun night of snuggling under a pack cover at the Crow Pass cabin. For breakfast we hiked out to the Girdwood Tesoro for Bahama Momma hot dogs.

To retrieve the Rice Burner a few days later, Cathy and I did an evening run from Arctic Valley over to Hiland Road.

Did you know that Portage has the thickest shrubbery in Southcentral? I confirmed this on a very sweaty thrash to the ridgeline for a traverse from the first Portage tunnel, over Begich Peak, along the ridge and down to the Portage cutoff. The trip highlight came afterward, when I learned that 64-ounce sodas were only $1.89 at the Girdwood Tesoro. I'm growing quite fond of the Girdwood Tesoro.

Indianhouse is the steepest summit in the Chugach Front. An interest of mine was traversing the Falls Creek ridgeline, which includes Indianhouse. Here's Tobey, Maddog, Cortney, Sarah and Heidi's Kid Brother on the summit after traversing a portion of that ridgeline from South Suicide. Like Billy Finley, we rappelled the two gendarmes, but Tobey found exposed sheep trails around both gendarmes.

Jeff Conaway showed Cathy and I Sheep Creek in the Talkeetna Mountains. After a float plane drop off at an alpine lake we hiked down to the river. Here's Cathy inflating her packraft for six hours of floating back to the cars.

My sister Kate, her friend Kim Keller and Cathy paddling through bergs on Spencer Lake to float the Placer River. This is the ultimate visitor trip combining a train ride, hiking, camping, rock climbing and a float with icebergs.

"I got this hole on the Kenai. Lot's of fish. We'll go down after work and kill them." Andy Newton told Cathy, Raena and me. But all I caught was a big-lipped sucker fish and a sore bum from all the driving. Good thing we always have fun with Andy and Raena.

Joe Butler and Ryan Davis ice climbing on the Byron Glacier.

Local avalanche and mountain guru Kevin Wright climbing Wisdom (5.9) on the Wedge above Anchorage. Kevin showed Cathy and me that Anchorage does have good rock. Thanks for an incredible weekend Kevin!

Eric Parsons tests his bike bags on the Hillside Trails.

Cathy on the best evening run in Anchorage: the Wedge Sheep trail.

"Hey guys! Check out all these sweeeeet mountains. Guys? Hey, where'd everybody go?" Dave Bass at the 1957 wreckage of a B-29 Superfortress in the Talkeetna Mountains. Dave and I were midway through a 15-hour stumble-fest that went here and there, over Lynx Peak and back over there. The full day was a strange combination of verging on being crushed by a 50-ton boulder and giggling like teenagers.

Cathy near the summit of Matanuska Peak on her favorite excursion of our Anchorage summer. We followed the not-so-normal ridgeline from Lazy Mountain to Mat Peak. Near the top we found some steep granite to scramble. The wiffy likes steep granite.

Dana Maddog Drummond on a 15-hour, 12,000-foot, 27-mile variation of the Thunderbird Traverse. The T-Bird Traverse is any tundra ridge hike that includes Thunderbird Peak in the Western Chugach. Our variation started at Peters Creek and finished at Eklutna.

Cortney Kitchen on Knoya Point above Anchorage in mid October. Tordrillos out there.

Alaska paddling strong man Paul Shauer in Bird Creek. Luc Mehl waiting in line. This excursion enhanced my understanding that water is best when frozen.

Are you impressed? You should be! This thing took me a lot of evenings and some weekends. I'm lucky Dad helped me for five days, otherwise I'd still be out there flailing away. Most of the windows are recycled from the Samoan church down the street. Newton hooked me up with the door. I poached the design from Judy across the alley.

In late September I attended the AMGA annual meeting at the Gunks in New York. Cathy met me afterward for some climbing. Here is Cathy on overhanging 5.6+++ jugs on the ultra-classic route High Exposure. Our favorite day at the Gunks was cragging with Markus Jolliff from Joshua Tree who also came for the guide meeting. Great getting to know you Markus!

After cragging we visited Flanagans. There are lots of Flanagans. Here are a few. Cathy with her parents Peg and Mike Flanagan during a rowdy 18 holes at the par three in Rehobeth Beach, Delaware. After touring around the East Coast for several weeks I found the East's finest attribute are Flanagans.

Back in Anchorage it's stacking up on Airport Heights!

And it's stacking up in the hills. Jeff Ellis skiing Eddies shrubbery at Turnagain Pass. You know Jeff is Canadian because he's wearing a toque.

Chic Scott

2011-10-17T00:52:43Z

Chic Scott is the name in Canadian ski mountaineering. He's written the guide books and done some big tours. In the late '60's Chic worked in Chamonix for the International School of Mountaineering with Dougal Haston. He kept Clint Eastwood alive on the North Wall while shooting The Eiger Sanction.

Last week we invited Chic up for our third annual Friends of the Chugach Avalanche Center fundraiser. In past years we had Andrew McLean and Kris Erickson.

Chic gave an inspirational show to over 300 people at the Beartooth Theatre. Everyone enjoyed his humor, the diversity of trips he talked about and his appreciation for Alaskans and their burly backyard. This event raised a pile of money to help fund weather stations, rescue caches and snowmachines for the avalanche forecasters among other things.

Chic stayed with me in Anchorage during his visit. Much of the time we sat at the kitchen table. Chic working on the third edition of Summits & Icefields. Me working on my ski guidebook for southcentral Alaska. I felt like Neil Young and Van Morrison, back in the day, writing songs in a cabin way out there in New England. During a break, we hiked at Arctic Valley and drank a few beers at the Midnight Sun.

Thank you so much for coming up Chic!

Chic has written ten books. These are the two in my collection.

At Arctic Valley Chic felt like he was hiking in the Scottish Highlands, with Denali as the backdrop.

But the local Summit Nike missile site reminded Chic he was in 'Merica. That's Russia out there.

During the Cold War they probably had Deep Woods Russian Off ready to spray from these.

Garmin Topo Alaska Enhanced Review

2011-09-20T23:07:51Z

Earlier in the summer I bought the Garmin Topo Alaska Enhanced map card ($100) from Accupoint in Anchorage and plugged it into my Garmin Oregon 450 (thanks Ken!). A few weeks ago, while on Denali's Whale Tail, I had a chance to test it out

I have a love/hate relationship with GPS units. I think they detract from geophysical mountain skills of map, altimeter and compass. On the other hand I need every advantage when guiding. Also, it's nice to make progress in a whiteout. After purchasing Alaska Enhanced my question became: could the GPS map take the place of a 1:63,360-scale map printed by the USGS? (Alaska's most detailed maps are 1:63,360.)

I imagined using Alaska Enhanced for tour planning, while in the tent in the backcountry, by creating waypoints on the GPS before heading out into low visibility. The problem was I had too much good weather in Alaska this summer. I did find a whiteout on Mount Logan, but that's in Canada. There I followed waypoints that I entered while on the trail during the ascent.

Then a couple weeks ago we woke to fog soaking our camp on the Whale's Tail. In Alaska. Yes! Sometimes I am so stoked for whiteouts.

During our foggy day on the Whale's Tail we followed a ridgeline for 10 miles with 5,000 feet of ascent. Ridgelines in zero viz are not straightforward. They split, they broaden and become indistinct. All day I kept the GPS hanging around my neck, referring to it constantly to keep us on the ridge. Alaska Enhanced made the day almost a no-brainer and kept our group on the move.

Late August in Alaska means winter is close and termination dust coats the mountains. Termination dust is Alaskan for first snow of the season that terminates summer.

During the day I did go back to my paper map. Part of the ridge was too craggy for hiking and we traversed steep tundra slopes along the side. A cliff appeared in the fog and I consulted the GPS map at right - no cliff. The cliff did show up on the 1:63,360 USGS map with 100 foot contours (left).

When micro-route finding, those minute map details make a huge difference. While Alaska Enhanced is worth every cent, I found it doesn't take the place of the USGS-printed map for complex terrain.

Denali's Whale Tail

2011-09-08T17:08:19Z

I'd never guided backpacking. And I've never been on a real backpacking trip in Alaska. Last week I learned it can be serious fun. It was partly due to the crazy beauty of our location - a Whale's Tail-shaped landform between the Ruth and Tokositna Glaciers. But probably more so from my great partners: Nik Koblov from Dmitry Maskoff from New York.

Climber Bruce of Rust's Flying Service flew us from Lake Hood in Anchorage to Denali National Park. Lake Hood is the largest float plane airport in the world. We landed at Backside Lake, next to the Ruth Glacier, in the retreating path of the Backside Glacier.

On our first day we hiked down along the Ruth Glacier, following the lateral moraine and camping on a perched lake. Then under blistering sunshine, we day hiked on the spine of the Whale's Tail. Here Nik and Dmitry look down the Ruth Glacier to the Tokosha Mountains. The Whale's Tail is pristine country: no trails, cairns or any sign of humans.

The presence of Denali will do this to you. Nik (left) is a longtime friend of Dan Oberlatz, owner of Alaska Alpine Adventures. I've been on two previous trips with Nik and Dan: skiing in the Neacola Mountains in 2008 and skiing in Valdez last year. Dmitry is Nik's buddy from New York. These two are the definition of sooooooper nice guys: always fun, enthusiastic and perhaps since they're Russian, they never complain.

Nik breaking into the Tokosha Mountains on day four with the Whale's Tail behind. We spent a full day in the western Tokoshas, hiking ridgelines and bagging peaks. This trip was hardcore backpacking. We had many days of 10 miles and 5,000 vertical feet over scree, talus, boulder fields and streams. My kind of backpacking!

Dmitry cutting loose after containing himself in the city.

We spent our seventh and eighth day following a GPS along the ridgeline in fog, rain and snow - a pleasant change from the perfect weather. We'd stashed a canister of food on a 5,000-foot summit to pick up later in the trip. Bear canisters are required in these lowlands of Denali National Park. These cans are heavy and awkward to pack, but I guess it would be more awkward if a bear chows your food.

Nik doling out the brown juice: cowboy coffee. I've been hearing discrepancies about real Turkish coffee, which is probably the origins of cowboy coffee. Boil it once or three times? Bring it to a boil or let it really boil? Only one solution: "Cathy! We have to go to Turkey so I can research coffee and do a better job guiding."

Our third day hike: up the Backside Glacier behind Mount Church, Johnson and Bradley.

Whoa guys! Awesome trip. Thank you so much! And Dan, thanks for scoping the terrain and setting me up with these suave dudes. For me it was quite the incredible introduction to backpacking in Alaska. Nik and Dmitry, you're borderline converting me. But be prepared, I'll be trying to convert you. Next time we're stepping it up with some mountaineering. Or maybe the Whale's Tail on skis...

Cheers!

Cairn About Alaska

2011-08-19T16:16:38Z

It has been my observation that men feel compelled to leave their mark wherever they go. By this I don’t mean castles and ramparts, ruined buildings and ancient walls. Instead, I mean the small marks that individuals make to ensure that their passing has been noted.

—Bryce Courtenay, 2005

Sad but true—the era of large-scale geographic exploration may be over. The entire planet has been mapped. We have Google Earth and GPS units.

In the mountains, one sign that you're not exploring is finding a cairn.

Cairns are stones—from a single balanced rock to a heap of stones—that mark a route or a summit. Cairn-building has been going on for eons. Native Americans in the Arctic used cairns (inuksuits) to mark routes. On popular mountain trails in the lower 48, such as in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, cairns keep thousands of people on route. For 25 years I've followed cairned routes to difficult-to-find climbs.

But do we need cairns in Alaska? Many come to this wild state for that feeling of exploration—the sense that they may be the first person to visit a place. In Alaska, standing on a pristine summit with no history and no sign of humans is still possible. It's a powerful feeling. Why not grant all Alaskan adventurers that feeling, first ascent or not?

Some have helped do this. In Alpinist 35, Fairbanks climber Jeff Apple Benowitz tells the story (reported by Matt Samet) of Alaska vanity plate 10910: The car's owner first-ascended peak 10,910 in the 1970's, but didn't report it so others could enjoy the same adventure.

To keep exploring alive, let's stop building cairns in Alaska. If we must leave our mark, let’s use the internet. Further, how about a true leave no trace policy? Dismantle cairns and return the stones to natural positions, lichen-side up.

Let’s keep that feeling of exploration alive in Alaska.

Do you have opinions or suggestions about cairns? I’d like to hear them. Send me your opinionated but civilized comments (Post a New Comment below or use stockalpine@gmail.com) and I'll add them here.

Cairns are justified in a few places for safety or environmental reasons. For example: 1) Tricky turns – A small, three-stone cairn can mark a hidden descent gully from a climb, or a hard-to-spot access trail. 2) Fragile alpine – Such as this recently de-glaciated area in the Alaska Range. Also, in heavily used areas, such as The Football Field below O'Malley Peak above Anchorage, cairns that keep everyone on the same route can minimize overall impact.

Within LNT's seven principles is Plan Ahead and Prepare: "Use a map and compass to eliminate the use of marking paint, rock cairns or flagging."

Cairn Articles:

Steve Roper's 1997 Backpacker article High Route Redux.
John Tierney's 1998 New York Times article Going Where A Lot of Other Dudes With Really Great Equipment Have Gone Before.

Seven Devils Linkup

2011-08-03T16:02:59Z

I cut my teeth in the Seven Devils Mountains of Idaho. Mom and Dad took me up 9,393-foot He Devil when I was seven years old. I climbed He Devil again during a Boy Scout 50-miler. Then last year Dad and I re-visited the Seven Devils. On that last trip I scrambled five 9,000-footers. This got me wondering: which peaks are "The Seven Devils?" and could I climb them all in a day?

Dad and I returned to the Seven Devils last weekend. Together we hiked into Sheep Lake, went our own way for the day, then met again at Sheep Lake. Dad circumnavigated He Devil, She Devil and Mount Baal. At 72 years old, his feat truly overshadows mine. This is rough country with no trails.

I couldn't find a true summit listing, so I scrambled what seemed like the highest named peaks, plus a couple others. My linkup climbed 9,360 feet and took 11.5 hours round trip from the parking lot. It was mostly bouldery hopping, some moraine, some snow and a bit of low fifth-class climbing on the north side of Devils Throne, The Imps and He Devil. In time order:

Mount Belial: 8,822 feet
Devils Throne: 9,045 feet
The Twin Imps: 9,000 feet
Devils Footstool: 9,000 feet (0.5 mile southeast of Devils Throne. Seems like a logical name)
He Devil: 9,393 feet
She Devil: 9,380 feet
The Ogre: 9,256 feet
Mount Baal: 9,120 feet (between She Devil and Tower of Babel)
Tower of Babel: 9,269 feet

Dad on a shoulder of She Devil, high above Riggins and the Salmon River valley.

Looking south toward the Twin Imps from my second peak of the day, Devils Throne.

The Twin Imps above Hells Canyon of the Snake River. Beyond are the Wallowa Mountains. From the summit of He Devil, the drop is 8,043 feet straight down to the Snake. The deepest canyon in North America.

Back when exploring was still possible. At the current rate it will take 847 years to fill the Twin Imps summit register.

He Devil. My route was the right skyline from the pass between She Devil.

Some root beer would have been nice.

Dad and I, knackered on the hike out.

Kenai Freezer-Filling

2011-07-29T04:31:07Z

We usually fill the freezer at the Copper River. This year I went to the Kenai. 230,643 fish went through the Kenai River fish sonar on July 17--a record for one day. People described catching 30 sockeye in 30 minutes. My buddy Brian Cohn said the water was "boiling with fish." A few days later Dmitry and I headed down there, hoping for our limit of 60 fish.

Dmitry and I rolled up to Ames Bridge at 9 pm, just after high tide. The best time for dipnetting is two hours on either side of high tide. Maybe this is a pretty photo, but it kind of bugs me. I've never climbed the rumbling Redoubt Volcano.

When the fish are rolling people cheer, flog fish, fling guts, crack beers and swap their crazy Alaskan stories. Subsistence dipnet fishing is the essence of Alaska.

Dennis dipnets the Ames Bridge each year. His homemade net was cracked, but he still caught more than anyone.

I photographed the most interesting character during a break between tides. He was playing his accordion and drying a stash of salmon heads, roe and testicles. His ironing board fillet station was the source of much jealousy. This is Dmitry Sidrov, my friend since 1998 when we worked for the American Alpine Institute. We had a blast hanging together for the weekend.

Some Anchoragites filleting their hoard. Dmitry and I caught 31 salmon resulting in over 100 pounds of fillets. Most fillet their salmon on the beach and toss the nutrient-rich remains into the river.