Tributes are pouring in for whitewater rafting pioneer and guidebook author Jim Cassady, who passed away in early November.
Cassady was a whitewater pioneer in the truest sense of the word, leading countless first descent expeditions throughout the ’80s and ’90s, many in California, including having a hand in such classics as the California Salmon, Burnt Ranch Gorge of the Trinity, Middle Fork of the American, Giant Gap, Generation Gap, the Middle Fork of the Feather, and more. A guide for several outfitters in the region, including Bill McGinnis’s Whitewater Voyages, he was also the owner of Pacific River Supply in Richmond, California. In 1984, he was instrumental in the design of the first commercial self-bailing raft SOTAR (State of the Art Raft) with laced-in floors, co-designed by Glenn Lewman, Randy Shelman Marty McDonnell and built by Whitewater Manufacturing. A riverside picnic will be held in his honor at Tunnel Chute Rapid on the Middle Fork of the American, which Cassady made the first descent of and featured as the cover photo of his book, “California Whitewater.”
Below, we’ve compiled various tributes to Cassady from other icons of the era in the whitewater industry:
Jeff Bennett, author, whitewater pioneer
I just found out that another one of my dearest whitewater friends passed away. Jim Cassady was a legendary river runner, author, and one of my idols. He was hugely influential on me during my early years of book writing and we became fast friends during the creation of World Whitewater. We’d sit at my dining room table for hours on end, sharing stories, laughing, and talking about future adventures. Jim was kind, knowledgeable, and generous. Jim touched countless lives in so many positive ways during his time on the planet. I feel blessed to have been able to call him a friend and know that his impact upon me will forever carry forward in my heart and mind. I’ll see ya’ downriver, my friend!
Bill McGinnis, author, owner/Whitewater Voyages
Here’s Wishing You Wild River Joy Wherever You Are: Jim Cassady was a dear, dear friend, a longtime fellow adventurer, and a unique, colorful and multi-talented soul who made revolutionary contributions to the world of river running. It was Jim Cassady who invented the modern self-bailing raft, who researched and wrote some of the finest river guide books out there, and it was Cassady (probably more than anyone else) who inspired the evolution in equipment and skill and “Age of Exploration” that put the Forks of the Kern, the California Salmon, Burnt Ranch Gorge of the Trinity, the Middle Fork of the American, Giant Gap, Generation Gap, the Middle Fork of the Feather and other rivers on the whitewater map.
I met Cassady in 1979 just as Whitewater Voyages was expanding onto the Kern river. Cassady’s rafting experience, intelligence, and warm, engaging manner—combined with a quiet joy that bubbled up from deep within the man—made Cassady an obvious choice to be our new Kern Manager—a position at which he excelled. Throughout the 1980s, from time to time Cassady would come to me saying something like, “Heyyyy Bill, I’ve got a river for us to take a look at. As far as I know no one’s ever rafted it, but I think we might be able to run it.” I was, as he knew I would be, intrigued, and we’d plan our next first descent.
On these exploratory trips we included a core group of experienced guides—people like Mike and Dan Grant, Todd Brownell, Beth Rypins, Jib Ellison, Brenda DeYoung, Mark Kocina, Stephanie Stewart, Steve Givant, Ted Kearn, Toni Hall, Dana Kimball, and Greg Smith. Also, we made a point of inviting newer guides—(no doubt many who are reading this were among this number). These adventures, we found, helped young guides—and all of us—grow by leaps and bounds. In the course of pushing the boundaries of what was then considered runnable, these trips taught all of us more than we ever imagined about river running, people skills, and ourselves.
Negotiating gnarly unknown rapids and waterfalls—tackling them one at a time—we had to figure out if each big drop or millrace or churning boulder maze was runnable—or not. With our lives hanging in the balance, we moved with caution, as a team, bonding, depending upon, needing one another.
Certain truths were self-evident: Many heads are better than one. Everyone’s ideas are valuable and potentially life-saving. Listening to one another with respect gave us the benefit of multiple points of view and proved crucial in coming up with the best way to navigate each rapid. All opinions—including decisions not to run—were honored and supported. Typically one or more of us would choose not to run a given rapid. Those not running got into position to provide toss-bag rescue and take photographs.
Cassady’s strong but gentle nature and upbeat spirit were a perfect match for—and co-creator of—this atmosphere of mutual respect honoring all perspectives and personal choices. This egalitarian honoring of everyone brought out everyone’s creative, brilliant best, made us a much stronger team, and proved crucial in enabling us to safely accomplish what we did.
These adventures—in which Cassady was a prime mover—played a key role in the evolution of what many of us refer to as AFG: Adventure—Friendship—Growth. A living action philosophy of valuing oneself and others, AFG, like ripples fanning out in a calm, has made a huge difference in many lives.
Cassady was an immensely talented man who poured forth enormous gifts to the world, enriching us all. We miss him. Wherever he is, I hope Cassady is gathering kindred spirits together to run the wild rivers in whatever realm he finds himself.
Bill Cross, author, whitewater pioneer
Farewell to my friend and mentor, Jim Cassady. Seasoned explorer, tough adventurer, clear-eyed and passionate collaborator. For me he was a towering figure, both physically and in the profound influence he had on my life. Cassady (never Jim) taught me more about rivers than anyone. He had a remarkable intuition about flowing water. I knew how to research and compile data, but Cassady could look at a map and in one glance predict the difficulty and flow patterns of a river he’d never seen. It was uncanny. He worked the same magic on the fine scale of a rapid, with an almost clairvoyant capacity for seeing patterns amidst chaos. Boating with Cassady was a master class.
We met in 1980, each a refugee from a different outfitter who had lost their rafting permit on the Kern River. Bill McGinnis hired us both. So, by happenstance, our long friendship began. Almost always it was Cassady leading, me following. Everybody followed Cassady. How could you not? He was big, strong, loud, capable, shrewd, inventive, fearless, and full of daring ideas that were sometimes nutty, sometimes breathtakingly inspired. His contributions to rafting, river exploration, and river conservation were vast.
Of course he was not without his faults. God no. But we loved him in spite. When he occasionally led me or others astray, he would just shrug and chuckle that quiet Cassady laugh . . . the slightly remorseful “heh-heh” of apology. And even those misadventures turned (eventually) to gold, because Cassady stories made wonderful, ridiculous, utterly improbable tall tales.
Those times are long ago now, but they flood back in my memory as potent and immediate. Because that’s what Cass was: a force of nature. A man you could imagine wrestling a grizzly – and maybe winning. He was a little crazy and a lot savvy. Quick and vocal in his opinions, but warm and generous in reconsidering them. He always had a scheme, but his schemes had a way of working out well for everybody. The things he loved, he loved fiercely.
It’s trite to say “We shall not see his like again.” But Cassady was a one-off. So there it is. How ridiculously lucky I am to have fallen in with you, my dear old friend. Thank you.