New Turf

Call it boredom. Call it a death wish. Call it an ongoing quest to discover the greatness within. Whatever you call it, I consider my new fascination with whitewater kayaking an attempt to challenge mother nature on new turf. My friend Adam and his brother Matthew introduced me to the sport back in late April, and I have been growing more and more interested ever since. My first endeavor on the rolling water met with little difficulty as I paddled a few miles down a mostly tame section of the Chattahoochee River in the metro Atlanta area. That first trip was deceivingly easy, and so I decided to tempt my fate again just a few days later on the same stretch of water. This time, I managed to flip my kayak in what was probably the most calm patch of water on the entire trip. Now there's this skill called "rolling" that enables a paddler to simply "roll" the boat back over to the upright position and continue on their way. I had not mastered this skill yet, and so I had to perform a wet-exit. It's pretty much what it sounds like. You pull off the spray skirt and kick out of the boat and into the river. The problem is, your boat fills with water and you then have to find somewhere to beach your craft and begin the drainage process. The water is moving (it's a river, remember?), so this is a little harder than it sounds. In this case, the 'Hooch is a pretty nasty river, so not only did I have to deal with trying to figure out how to get my boat to dry land, I also had to deal with swimming in something that smelled worse than the dumpster behind the school where I teach. I had visions of some mutated catfish with six eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth sucking me under in Jaws fashion. Fortunately, I avoided the river monsters and made it the rest of the trip safe and sound.

The next river in my paddling progression was the Cartecay River near Ellijay, GA. This stretch of water is certainly more challenging than the 'Hooch and contains mostly class II or II+ rapids. I should stop to explain here that whitewater rapids are rated on the International Scale of River Difficulty that takes into account, among other things, length, speed of water, amount of drop, and technical difficulty. The scale ranges from I-VI, with anything above class IV being considered for experts only. Anyways, back to the Cartecay. Remember that "rolling" skill? Well I still hadn't mastered it at this point, so I again spent fair amounts of time swimming to shore with boat in tow, cursing and being made fun of by the more experienced kayakers who drifted by. At least this water didn't smell like someone's used jock strap. The Cartecay does offer good spots to learn the finer points of whitewater paddling, and so it was good preparation for my next trip: the Nantahala River.

Located in the Nantahala National Forest near Bryson City in western North Carolina, the Nantahala River is a beautiful 8.5-mile stretch of cold, fast-moving whitewater that is touted as one of the most popular rivers in the world, with an estimated 160,000 yearly visitors. The river is rated as class II-III and takes only 2 hours to run from put-in to take-out. The first time I ran this river, I had to bail at least twice. And in water that never gets above 51 degrees (due to the fact that the river is controlled by dam and drains from the bottom of Nantahala Lake), it's a sobering experience to say the least. I also decided not to attempt the final rapid on the stretch, Nantahala Falls, which is rated at class III. This decision came primarily because of the looming thought of being swept further down river and through the class VI Big Wesser Falls that rumbles just beyond the final take-out at the Nantahala Outdoor Center. They call that rapid "un-runnable". I didn't want to find out.

After the decision was made to return to the Nanty for my brother's bachelor weekend, I made it up in my mind to master the skill of rolling my kayak, mostly because I was tired of swimming about as much of the river as I was paddling it. Now this technique is one of the most awkward things I have ever tried to do. I spent hours watching YouTube videos trying to figure out how to pull it off. Adam's brother Matthew (who is only 20 and is far better than any of us will probably ever be), also tried to teach me with little success. Imagine hanging upside-down, completely submerged, and still strapped in to your boat, and then finding a way to flip back over by simply using your paddle and a quick snap of the hips. Everything about the move is counter-intuitive, and repeated practice is required. It wasn't until my third day of trying that I finally successfully rolled my kayak for the first time. "Now," I thought, "I'm really ready for the Nanty."

It took about 5 minutes on my first run down the river to completely forget all the training I had practiced, and I once more bailed out of my boat. Rolling in a lake is one thing, but doing it in the river, with the currents and rapid movement of the water, is completely another. Disappointed, I completed the run without further incident (again avoiding Nantahala Falls) and returned for one more shot.

I guess the real question should be why I keep flipping over in the first place, but I digress. This time when my kayak tipped, I was ready. I avoided the initial panic of losing control and plunging into near 40-degree water that tends to rush in, and I thought back to the Swedish guy (at least I think he was Swedish) in the pool on the YouTube videos who taught me the proper sweep technique for rolling. He was my Mr. Miyagi, and I was little Danny LaRusso, standing there, about to take on Johnny Lawrence from the Cobra Kai dojo at the "All Valley Karate Tournament". With a clear mind, I reached back up toward the surface, got my paddle in the right position, and swept back and across my body while snapping my left hip down. Victory! Ok, so Elisabeth Shue didn't come rushing out to hug and congratulate me, but I was pretty damn proud regardless. So proud in fact, that I agreed to take on Nantahala Falls with Matthew and Adam. The photos above are proof of my success and proof that I have indeed found new turf upon which to challenge and admire nature. Until next time...