Holy Noli!
| River: | Nolichucky |
| Skill: | Intermediate+ |
| Trip Date: | 05/07/2011 |
Nolichucky Trip Report: May 7/8, 2011
Paddlers: John McDonald, Kevin Kizer, Cat Thrash, Jim Mong, Ken Koth, Richard Lind, Bob Wiggins, Bob Wiggins
I’ve always found a day on the Nolichucky River to be somewhat of a religious experience. Memories of paddling this hallowed gorge bring back feelings of peace, serenity, and beauty, all mixed in with a little excitement and the companionship of good friends. These long, winding days always seem to recharge my soul, as reliably as Roostertail seems to test my combat roll.
But religious experiences are not always about the serene. Sometimes they are about fear. Sometimes they are about prayer. And sometimes they are about that moment that you look skyward, shaking your head and throwing your hands in the air wondering, “why me?” and how any divine being could have such a sick sense of humor.
This past weekend, we had a little bit of both.
The weekend began innocently enough, with six of us meeting at the campground to set shuttle. Most of us were meeting for the first time, and two of our group would be meeting the Nolichucky for the first time as well. Richard Lind and Ken Koth would be making their first descents, joining second-timer Kevin Kizer along with Noli veterans Cat Thrash, Jim Mong, and me. The river, running at about 1280 cfs, seemed to be holding at a nice and welcoming level for our Noli newbies.
After a successful run of Entrance rapid, we got out to scout On the Rocks for the benefit of our newcomers. Back in our boats, I ran lead down the rapid and sat in the left hand eddy below the drop waiting for my comrades to join me. And that’s where the fun began. Richard did not make it far enough left and fell off the right side of the tongue, leading to a flip and swim. As I raced downstream to help him, Jim, Cat, and Kevin all ran the rapid and joined in pursuit. In what would become a theme of the weekend, one swimmer was never not enough, as Ken joined the out of boat experience party. Both swimmers were collected above Jaws and seemed in good shape and good spirits to move on downstream.
After scouting Quarter Mile and discussing the perils of a swim at the top of the rapid, I got in my boat to demonstrate how to run the entrance drop. Sitting in the eddy, I saw Kevin run the rapid next, appearing in view for a moment, backwards, struggling to stay upright and in the main flow of water as it comes around the bend towards the drop. When next I saw him, he was upside down as he went over the drop. After one failed roll attempt, he dropped into the little hole in front of Hungry Jack, where he popped his skirt and began a long and painful swim.
Kevin and his brand new Diesel washed into the far right side of Hungry Jack as I skirted the hole to come to his aid. The boat got sucked deep into the hydraulic before being spit out like a missile and crashing with a resounding whack onto the rock before floating downstream. Fortunately Hungry Jack was not hungry enough to hold on to Kevin or his boat, and they were back together in the water as I gave chase.
Down the rapid we went, abandoning the boat and trying to get Kevin to the safety of an eddy. With his weight on my stern, I just barely missed delivering him into about three or four eddies before we would leak out the bottom of the eddy and get separated for a moment before trying once more. In my rush to get to him, I found myself sliding backwards and sideways into little holes that threatened to flip me but never could. We both ran through a tight slot to the left of Copper Rock, a place I had never been before and have little intention of revisiting. Finally, I was able to get him into an eddy on river left above Murphy’s Ledge. After receiving assurances that he was ok, I went downstream to collect the boat.
A few minutes later, the whole group reconvened in an eddy below the rapid. Kevin had walked downstream on the railroad tracks. The others, in no position to help with the rescue, made a very wise decision to walk the entrance to Quarter Mile and made their way downstream from there. Kevin had been roughed up a bit during the long swim, but appeared to have avoided any serious injury. His, boat, however, could not make the same claim. On the right side of the bow about six inches from the front of the boat, there was a softball sized dent in the plastic.
We stopped for lunch before Roostertail to collect our breath. Kevin decided he would walk Roostertail, no matter how difficult a walk it would be. The rest of us got out and scrambled up the rocks above the rapid to scout it for the benefit of our first timers. As we turned to walk back to our boats, Richard slipped and fell and cried out in pain as he clutched his ankle. It was sprained, and he could barely put pressure on it as he hobbled back to his boat.
And there it was. The “religious moment,” if you will. When Murphy’s Law seemed far more serious than Murphy’s Ledge. The time when we all wanted to look to the sky and ask, “are you freaking kidding me?” Our first-time paddler was injured and facing the toughest rapid on the river with a bum ankle. But we regrouped pretty quickly to enjoy a moment of redemption.
Richard said he was ok to continue on, so Jim ran Roostertail first to set up a rope in case of a swim. Richard was banged up enough, and a swim through the lower part of Roostertail could have been very bad. Cat and Ken followed with perfect lines as Richard and I watched from above. I followed, adding momentary drama with a flip and roll before joining the others in the eddy. And the four of us watched with bated breath as Richard approached the rapid. He nailed it. He ran a perfect line and there we were again, all happy and smiling at the bottom of the rapid, the hardest part of the river behind us and a feeling that all would be fine on this day. And so it would be. Deep breath.
The following day, we traded Richard and Kevin for Bob Wiggins and his precocious fourteen year old son, Bob, who would be making his first descent of the Nolichucky under his father’s watchful eye. After much time around the dinner table, campfire, and breakfast table discussing our misadventures on the river, we were pretty confident that Sunday would be a lot less stressful day for us. Kevin and his dented boat stayed behind to see if some sunlight would help “pop out” the gash in the bow, which was suggested by some but believed by none.
The river level held well overnight, with a reading of 1240 cfs when we put on. Again, Entrance rapid proved to be no problem. At On the Rocks, Bob the Younger decided he’d like to get out and shore scout the rapid. Nobody else felt the need to, so I got out with Bob to show him and talk him through the line. Bob the Elder decided to run the rapid first so that we had someone in the water to help out in case we had a repeat of yesterday’s tandem swim.
But you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men.
Bob came off the tongue of the main drop a little far to the right and caught an edge. As he tried to brace, however, his 25 year-old wooden paddle snapped in half like a twig. Ironically, this paddle’s blade had broken years earlier at Jaws but was later repaired. And so there went our safety boater, swimming, with me standing on shore and the others just now approaching the rapid.
I gave the “swimmer” sign to Jim, who hurried up to run the drop and help Bob. Feeling a bit rushed, Jim’s ferry was a bit shaky and he found himself upside down after the main drop. After a couple of failed roll attempts, he washed up “on the rocks” and flushed down the right side exit of the rapid, now out of his boat. Now we had two swimmers in the water, and no boats down there yet to help out.
Cat, who we dubbed “The Rescuer” for her heroics this weekend, was next in line and ran a perfect line before pursuing our swimmers. But Ken hit some funky water at the bottom of the main drop and flipped over and swam after a couple of roll attempts. Three in the water with only one boater to save them all. I rushed back to my boat as young Bob wisely decided he’d portage the rapid even though he felt very confident in his ability to make it down unscathed.
Amazingly, by the time I ran the rapid I saw Jim and Ken both emptying their boats on river right about 50 yards above Jaws. Bob was there, too, and relayed the good news that Cat was down below Jaws with his boat. I ferried Bob back over to river left, he got his breakdown paddle from his son’s boat, and we were all back in business once again.
Quarter Mile was no problem on this day, as the two Bobs and Ken portaged the first drop while I ran the entrance with Cat and Jim. It seemed only Roostertail stood in our way of a successful voyage.
Once again, I got out with young Bob to shore scout the rapid. And after describing the route, I demoed my usual flip & roll line for everyone. Cat ran a clean line behind me, but then we watched Ken flip and swim. Cat and I both paddled over to him. We made a split second decision, as she was closer to Ken and I was closer to the boat, that she’d take care of him while I’d be on boat patrol. Instead of flushing through the left side of the lower part of Roostertail, though, Cat and Ken bumped down the right side a little bit before getting pinned on a few rocks right above a bit of a pool. Using Ken’s help to leverage her off the rocks, Cat made it down into the pool. By this time, Jim and the two Bobs had made clean runs of Roostertail and joined us in the eddy. Cat threw a rope to Ken, who used that to get close enough so that Bob could ferry him over to the lunch beach on river right, where I had collected his boat and paddle. And once again, we let out a deep breath.
The adventure wasn’t quite over for the day. We still had a few more swims to deal with in some unusual places, as Jim and Ken couldn’t resist the urge to give synchronized swimming one last try. But after a long day, and a long weekend, we all made it back to the campground, where Kevin and his boat, mostly self-healed now after an afternoon in the sun, were waiting.
It was a fun, though at times harrowing, weekend. All in all, our group totaled 12 swims, one busted boat, one busted paddle, a sprained ankle, a few bruised knees, and possibly a few bruised egos. Our swim team medaled in distance swimming, synchronized swimming, and even relay swimming events, while the rest of us got quite a bit of quality rescue practice. Congratulations are in order for our first-timers Ken, Richard, and Bob – hopefully it will be just the first of many memorable days for them on the Nolichucky, though I’m not sure I want to imagine a day more memorable than these.