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| OPEN BOATS, SNOW AND FLOOD SIRENS Spring creek boating in Eastern USA by Chris Wheeler First published (in a mercifully abbreviated form) in Canoe Kayak UK
See Mark Rainsley's trip photos. The Appalachian Mountains are arguably the spiritual home of modern day white water kayaking and canoeing. It might have something to with the fact that this is where Perception and Dagger hail from and where squirt boating was invented. CHRIS WHEELER and pals just had to finally make the pilgrimage. It was our last day and we were looking for a steep grade 5 challenge. Glade/ Manns Creek seemed to fit the bill, certainly the guidebook did its best to terrorise us (‘the action is utterly continuous, blind and intense…the first run took 10 hours…class 5-6’). As we stared warily at the first crux 5- ‘Pillage and Plunder’, a tight undercut hole, we were overtaken by some of the local hair boaters, who casually rode up the right hand rock ramp and boofed clear. They were off over the next horizon line. With all the big boulders, blind horizon lines and narrow squeezes, the river was going to take all day, or at least it was until another local boater appeared, who was soloing the river to catch up with his mates. Maybe he felt sorry for us or maybe he was feeling lonely amongst all that gnarly grade 5- probably both- but he joined us and offered to guide us down. However, John’s idea of ‘guiding’ was, to say the least, fast paced and laissez faire. He would issue impossibly complicated instructions (“boof left, duck under the 4th tree, take the 2nd right gap then the 3rd left”) and then disappear, leaving us with just a blind horizon line and glimpse of tree. Very exciting!
In recent years at Easter we’ve headed out west to California and Oregon, bypassing the East. Eventually, curiosity was always going to get the better of us. With good friend Simon Wiles working as an ex pat in Burlington Vermont in the North East, we finally bit the bullet. Sure, it might be cold and there might be no water (many of the rivers are rain fed), but heaven knows we’re used to that. Good God man, we’re British! The team was a mixed bag: 3 UK based boaters- Mark Rainsley, Andy Levick and me; Simon our ex pat Brit and Mike and Steve, American boaters from Georgia, complete with Southern drawl. Steve was a completely different animal all together- he was an open boater complete with mandatory large bushy beard and- ahem- smoking habit. Steve, it turned out, was a well known, talented open boater who Mark and Simon had ‘guided’ down the Marsyandi in Nepal, although I suspect he really didn’t need guiding at all and that it was one of their ‘safety kayaker’ scams. I still wasn’t convinced- we’re talking here about a traditional 18 ft long open boat, kept afloat by a couple of flimsy air bags. I’ve seen plenty of beards on the Wye, but on steep creeks? Another trouble free flight with BA, to Newark (New Jersey), a 6 hour drive northwards and we arrived in Burlington, Vermont, New England, in the frozen wastes, only 2 hours south of Montreal. The team met up for the first time and then proceeded to fill Simon’s flat with smelly thermals and occupy all the available floor space, as you do. Day 1, and in a bitter 3 degs c, we found ourselves on the locals’ favourite, the New Haven, a splendid road side mix of ledges, slides and boulders. The highlight was an 18 ft drop. So, did open boater Steve walk around it? No, he cleaned it with ease, his mothership of a boat flattening everything in its path. The sections of tight rocky boulder garden didn’t trouble him either- the rockered boat turned on a sixpence and made those little mid-rapid must-make eddies.
The next day we were faced with the task of scraping fresh snow off the cars and in minus 1 degs c, we took on the Metawee, a pool drop run, in practice, flat water interspersed with 5-6 major grade 4/5 drops! The first major rapid consisted of a series of ledges with stoppers and one mandatory but sketchy looking must make boof. Probability decreed that out of the six of us, one was not going to make it – hopefully someone else! There was one swim, but it wasn’t Steve - he cleaned it, his Queen Mary II of a boat smothering the stopper into submission. Just before the take out was the final rapid, which we had a good long look at. The river right line involved a mandatory boof over a horseshoe shaped 12 ft drop, which had a hole at the bottom. Sadly, the combination of the drop and the hole proved to be the QE II’s demise. Without the ability to boof came a big meltdown, with everything, including Steve and his 18ft long boat, disappearing from view completely, only for the air bags alone to escape and resurface. Oh dear.
We headed west in search of water, into upstate New York and the Adirondack Mountains, home of Lake Placid (venue of the 1982 Winter Olympics) and Moosefest, an annual white water festival held each Autumn on the pool drop Moose River. More snow. The highlight was the Twin Falls section of the Grass River, classic big pool drop. Twin Falls was certainly the highlight, and killed off the mutinous muttering about all the flat water. A horizon line, tree tops in the distance and tell tale mist. It was big! What we found was a 45 ft high Norwegian Lower Rauma style drop, providing us with a helter skelter descent down a 45 degree angled series of ramps and ledges, the latter half consisting of two big crazy boofs. Ouch! This at last prompted open boater Steve to walk.
It was time to head a long way south to warmer climes, plentiful water, read and run boulder gardens, in other words, creek boating heaven (we hoped). Arriving at the Big Sandy in West Virginia, I felt like I’d just arrived in Devon after a long drive down from Scotland. It felt warm, the river was lined by Rhododendron bushes and consisted of lovely boulder gardens. There were lots of paddlers and laybys full of cars, with locals looking on disapprovingly and numerous ‘Posted’ (no trespassers) signs. It was truly a home from home. Mike and Steve were really quite excited at the prospect of paddling the Big Sandy –one of the well known classics and a river they don’t get to paddle too often, living further south in Georgia. Certainly, the crux rapid, Big Splat, was exciting, a technical grade 5 rapid finishing with a drop onto a boulder, necessitating a must-make boof left. Steve made the line with ease- very impressive. The rest of the river was, well, pleasant enough grade 4 boulder garden but not really what we were there for.
Onto the Top and Upper Youghiognehy, across the state line in Maryland, another old classic. The guidebook listed a whole series of named grade 5’s, with macho names like ‘Meat Cleaver’, which I couldn’t reconcile with the sight of hoards of paddlers young and old, in kayaks, inflatable’ duckies’ and rafts, all piling down the river and onwards to ‘Meat Cleaver’ and certain death. What really did it for me was being overtaken by someone ‘striding’, standing up in a ducky holding a double length set of paddles. He must have been none other than Jeff Snyder, squirt boating pioneer and younger brother of Jim. Our intuition was proved right- the Yough is a classic boulder garden run, but at normal water levels, grade 4 (4+) read and run.
The next day, and the two factions finally split. Mike and Steve joined Andy on the Blackwater and Simon, Mark and I headed further upstream to take on the Upper Blackwater at 400 cfs on the gauge, undeterred by tales from Steve of how it took them 6 hours with less water. It was a classic paddle- steep, mostly read and run grade 4+/5 boulder gardens, dropping at up to 300 ft per mile. It was relentless and yet, remarkably, there was almost invariably a clean line through the jumble of randomly assorted giant boulders. We finished the Upper in 100 minutes flat and the Lower in another 90. Great!
Steve and Mike convinced us that the dam release Upper Gauley would still be good with a minimal release of 500 cfs (when a normal release is 2,800 cfs- at that level it’s a classic big 4/5). Much grinding of teeth as we bumped and scraped our way down it. Towards the end we turned our heads mournfully to look up at the confluence of grade 4+ Meadow River, which was flowing well and which we could have been on. After 48 hours of non stop rain the New River went ballistic, rising from 6,000 to 30,000 cfs (and later to 75,000 cfs). It was clear to Steve that we were all going to die in the gorge, so we split up again, with Steve and Mike paddling the New River Dries and the Brits paddling the Gorge, and then the Dries. Well, the Gorge had its moments (so much for everything going down the middle- that hole was huge!), but we survived and made it onto the Dries, an infamous play boating venue, with some lovely big green waves at the put in. Our creek boats gave us just the excuse we were looking for and we paddled off downstream. As it is, the Dries at that level seemed bigger then the Gorge- a fine effort from Steve to get down it in an open boat- he must have been baling from the put in to the take out! Added excitement was provided by the sound of a loud siren going off, to warn us that another 5,000 cfs was about to be released whilst we were paddling down the river- disturbing! The next day everything was in crazy spate (and it was snowing!) so we opted for some grade 3+/4 water. The Laurel was an OK warm up but we baulked at the rather tame looking Cherry North Branch, leaving the Americans to it, as we paddled the Cranberry and Big Beaver, the latter, a tree infested 4+ deep in the jungle adventure. Great. Next morning we surveyed the Upper and Lower Glade, at 1.8 on the put in gauge. 1.8 was too high and it was all far too much for one day was the advice. What we got was 4 hours of great non stop 4/4+ ledges, slides and boulders. It would be truly outstanding at 2.2. Or more.
And so onto our grade 5 finale- the Glade (a different Glade) running into Manns Creek paddle, which is where this story started.
Game over. It was time for coffee at Fayetteville’s Cathedral Café (where the local boaters hang out) and dinner at the Sedona Grill. Time to reflect. Was switching from the West Coast to the East worth the trouble and do kayakers and open boaters mix? Well yes, and maybe. A white water lifetime wouldn’t be complete without paddling in the Appalachians at least once. Sure, it can be cold and it can be dry but it’s a beautiful place, with some great grade 5 creek boating if it rains, in addition to the usual classics. The local paddling culture is great- it’s thriving and it’s friendly, with plenty of kayaks shops and cafes to meet fellow paddlers, and plenty of information on the rivers, water levels and the weather from the internet and guidebooks. Plus, you have dam release rivers, a real bonus in rain fed areas. One day, when we’ve forgotten about all those masochistic cold, dry days, we’ll be back. The USA boating culture is also so diverse. At one extreme you have old schools boaters and guidebooks that over grade everything. At the other extreme, you have some very talented play and hair boaters, who under grade everything. Work out exactly which school of paddling your American fellow paddlers went to before you get on the water! Chris Wheeler paddled with Andy Levick, Mark Rainsley and Simon Wiles, and Americans Steve and Mike. Andy, Mark and Chris would like to thank Steve, Simon and Simon’s girlfriend Cheryl, for their hospitality and tolerance under extreme provocation! Mark and Simon would like to thank Perception for their continued support. Mark would also like to thank Nookie. |
