When All Else Fails

The weekend was spent at the Stonycreek Rendezvous near Johnstown, PA. Four new paddling runs, but that's not allowed to be discussed on a WV blog. But, as an archive to supplement my lousy memory, those four runs were: Shade Creek (lower section) and the Stonycreek River (Upper Gorge, Canyon, and Lower sections).

Seeing as all of the runnable waterways easily accessed from the festival had been knocked off by Saturday afternoon, it was decided to head south into WV for Sunday's paddle. Three of my Intermediate/Advanced paddling friends and I joined two exceptional kayakers on a run down the lower section of Big Sandy Creek today. This was my third time down, so my anxiety over Wonderfalls was less severe this time, but my heart still raced through the first mile before we got to the drop. All went well as all 6 members of our crew successfully ran the waterfall.

In fact, aside from your usual carnage (flips, swims, and minor pins), all was well for the entire team until the last rapid of significance, First Island. As the name indicates, we come to the rapid at the first point that the creek diverges around a rocky island. The left side is shallow and strewn with lots of rocks, which makes it far less fun. The right channel is flat at the top, but quickly becomes exciting as paddlers drop over a 4 foot falls and quickly through a cascade of about 20 yards of rocky whitewater. GO RIGHT THROUGH THE CASCADE is the general rule, but I managed to break this rule and discovered the consequences the hard way.

When you're in the middle of running a rapid in a kayak, there is a surprisingly significant amount of control and a lot of time to react to rocks, waves, hydraulics, and other obstacles. I had run First Island twice before successfully, and both times, I followed the rule. This time, being the lazy one in the group, I decided to remain in my boat and make an example of myself as the rest of the group scouted the rapid. This typically goes well, but this time I exhibited what NOT to do. Taking one last hard power stroke at the lip of the top falls, I launched into the whitewater below. In the short amount of time I had to react then (I wasn't able see over the falls from above), went right around a large boulder. Then, in a moment of unclarity, I looked to the left side of the next boulder for my next move.

When you make a wrong move, the wrongness of it often rears its ugly head immediately. In this case, I dropped over several large rocks with a series of thuds, and don't remember how, but was quickly capsized. This is usually not a problem, and so I waited upside-down for the commotion to end as I typically do. But, when it ended, I was resting upside-down on the rocky river bottom and could feel and hear the water still rushing past me very quickly. There are two options in this situation, the most attractive of which is a forced set up for an eskimo roll, and the other pulling the skirt cord and swimming out of the boat. I went for the former, and forcefully shifted both of my hands to my side. However, it may have been a bit too forcefully, and my two hands were no longer connected via a rigid shaft. I'd snapped my paddle on one of the rocks that was holding me in place.

It was inevitable that this would happen. I'd been paddling for nearly four years on a half-decent paddle, and even the best paddles don't last for all that many runs. This paddle had paid itself off many times over.

I pulled the cord, and stood up on the rocks. I threw my boat to shore and stepped out of the river. For a second, I watched half of my paddle float away before I couldn't see it anymore.

It was near the end of the run, but we still had several class 3 sections to run. Fortunately, I was paddling with an extremely skilled and well-equipped pair of paddlers, one of whom quickly tossed me his paddle and revealed a pair of hand paddles. And, this is why I continue to take every opportunity to paddle with experts.

In other news, Big Sandy Creek continues to amaze me. The clarity of the water through the untouched canyon is nothing short of Godly on a warm, sunny day like today. At one point, as I was sitting in a calm pool waiting for others in the group to shoot one of the rapids, I looked back upstream. From that vantage point at the bottom of several rapids, the high-gradient streambed could be better appreciated. For about a quarter mile, the Sandy sparkled and frothed through the rocky terrain while the vegetation surrounding it soaked it up. It won't be long before the canyon is green with life while the creek loses most of its water to the plants. Visiting that exact spot would be extremely difficult at that point, but I hope to get the chance to try.

It's really almost heaven when you stop and look around.

Git 'r Dun.