By the time we began tearing down the course, I would guess the river was around 30” and just beginning to change color. Being on the rocks above those shut-ins with the river is rising more than a ft/hour is its own kind of special. I was anxious to get dry and warmed up, but also very reluctant to leave the place. I know I wasn’t the only one. It was powerfully beautiful.
By this point, I was really itching to paddle. It was probably about 2-3’ over the bridge and still rising. I had Scott, Joey, and Di on board for a run of the upper, at least until the closing ceremonies. It was a good send-off, but I lost all of my warmth and most of my gumption standing around watching others grab the schwag I wanted. Those three bailed on me for the same reasons, so I threw in with the Iowans. It was probably 4:30. I tossed a playboat in their U-Haul and hopped in the van headed for 72 bridge, the put-in for the upper.
The plan was for the entire crew to paddle the upper section and to take out at Millstream, where all the cars were. When we arrived, the river level did not look at all like the 2-3’ over I had expected. Instead, it looked much more like it had when I paddled a few weeks ago with Curtis Elwood, 5¼ over. I spoke to the leaders of their club and to make sure they knew what they were getting themselves into. Normally, the upper (II+) is correctly dubbed the “warm up” or “learning grounds” for the more difficult lower section. After two days and almost 3” of rain, things change, and like the lower, it gets progressively more difficult with each additional foot of water. “Proving grounds,” more like. I told Chris and Piper to think of it as something between the Ocoee racecourse section (IV) and the Ocoee’s middlesection (III+) in terms of feel, pushiness, and rescue difficulty. There was a brief look of shock before plan B went into action. I felt really badly for them because only three of their 12 or 13 paddlers opted in. I was also tremendously relieved, because a handful of them didn’t have river-rolls and it would have been no place to gamble like that. I’m fairly confident we could have recovered swimmers, but gear? Nearly impossible.
I put on with Chris Pelzer, Nadia Razavi, and Chetu Kumar. Chris and Chetu I had seen paddle at the races and knew they were both really talented. Nadia I took at her word and Chris’s support. We drifted toward Entrance Rapid. There’s a very conservative (III) line down the left side. On the right though, is some of the biggest water on this section of river. I didn’t want to lead any of them in over their heads, but I also didn’t want them to miss out on some of the best water out there. Nadia eventually saved me from trying to sidestep the issue, informing me they had all been on solid Class IV the year before. River-right it was! I asked if they’d like to see a line through the holes, or around them. Nadia and Chris shared a funny smile, with a little history I suspect. I got a definite “through!” in response.
On to Entrance Rapid! It starts with big, innocuous, rolling waves. Tucked in about a ⅓ of the way down are two big wave-holes laid out something like ( → | \). The first lies perfectly perpendicular to the flow. It’s easy enough to get through, but you need to maintain enough momentum to make it through the stickier diagonal hole immediately behind it. That’s the tricky bit. I took the first hole diagonally so I would be set up to hit its badder brother head on. My setup was pretty good, but I came to a dead stop at the very top of the second foam pile. I had a paddle blade dug into the backside of the wave, and consciously trying not to panic, just leaned a little harder on it. After a very uncomfortable second, that broke the equilibrium, and I moved downriver again. It made me very aware of what a little boat I was in.
I looked back in time to see Nadia crash through the first hole, then paddle like crazy up the second. She was stopped there, and with an agonizing slowness, slid back into the melee. It roughed her up a little bit, but she washed quickly out of its downstream shoulder. Moments later she rolled up in the big waves with a look of pure exhilaration. It was superb! Chris knifed through both in his slalom boat, and Chetan was all smiles every time I looked his direction. Kitten’s Crossing was mostly washed out, but some big waves swell up below it and a few of them offered surf. Chetu and I made sure we caught every one of them.
Land of Oz next. Chuck had warned about some debris lodged in the river left channel at the bottom. I hadn’t seen it, but knew something like that could be tremendously dangerous. I let out a big sigh of relief when I saw the last of our group was headed safely toward the right channel. Hazard or none, this rapid easily makes my list of high-water favorites and over the last few runs, I’ve grown more accustomed to its towering wave trains. Sunday though, most had collapsed into shorter breaking waves. I took that to mean a slightly higher level. It was like a waterpark ride: big crashing waves, lots of acceleration, but no hazards in sight: great paddling and great fun. Everyone who paddles down here should, at some point get on this rapid at higher water.
We made good time through the rest of the upper. Even in the long pools there was good push from the current. We made the eddy at Millstream, but none of us were ready to call it quits. We decided to hike down the trail to scout Big Drop and Cat’s Paw. If they looked good, the plan was to run down to the bottom of Cat’s Paw and hike out from there. The shut-ins leading up to big drop looked sublime: big waves, splashy holes, water-park-style fun. The Big Drop hole on river right looked nasty. So did the one below the rapid in the center. However, the line between them was wide, easy, and welcoming. Between Big Drop and Cat’s Paw also looked easy, but Cat’s Paw itself was raging. Just behind Shark's Fin forms a highly irregular and just-plain-awful looking eddy. A little ways beyond this, the river flows over the “pillow rock” in the middle of the rapid, forming a mean-looking pour over behind it. The worst hole we couldn’t really see, but I knew was on river right at the bottom. I was thinking about what a good weekend I’d had, how edgy my little boat was, and how inviting the sneak route looked.
Chris, Chetu, and I hiked back up to the boats; Nadia stuck around to watch us run. I led through the Tiemann Shut-ins. Just the lead-in to Big Drop was almost as big as the rapids on the upper. It was wonderful. I was on an easy line through the drop, with Chris and Chetan in tow. We eddied out on river left with the satisfaction of having run a big rapid in expert fashion.
On to Cat’s Paw. A little ways above the rapid I was so feeling so good that all those earlier thoughts and warnings never even surfaced. I was in tune: with the river, with my boat, my body, my paddle, everything. Around this level, there’s a “green highway” that all the old-timers speak of. I was on it. It’s a narrow band of green water, right through the deep channel of the rapid. It rides up one enormous wave squarely in the middle, but delivers you safely between both holes. When done correctly, you don’t even get splashed. I had to brace after that big wave, but stayed on the highway amidst the crashing wildwater to each side. If I had to condense everything I love about whitewater into one particular instance, this would be it.
Chetu missed it by no more than a foot. He crashed through the hole on river left, flipped, but immediately flushed out. He rolled up solidly in the big waves of the rapid’s run-out. Chris maneuvered his way over to the sneak route and made the rest look easy. We took out just below Cat’s Paw and hiked back up through the woods. It was nearly dark, now considerably colder, and just beginning to hail. And we were on top of the world.
Rory King
March 17th, 2013
Roselle Gauge 9.8
35 Degrees and Rainy
Upper + Big Drop and Cat's Paw
photo by Johnny Bling @ hipsnap photo
No comments:
Post a Comment