Plan What? Obed, 2004 – Diane Owens and Robert Martin
| River: | Other |
| Skill: | All |
| Trip Date: | 04/24/2004 |
Who: Robert Martin (TL), Jack Shuler, Diane Owens, Ted Jean and Gary Lambert from Florida, Canadian Jack, New York Jim, Buffalo Don, Up State Chris/Rich; Jay Trayler, Pat Glazier, Robert Weddle, and last, but not least, Nate Gulbreth and Todd Corey, with whom I've not gotten to paddle for 2 Obed seasons in a row.
When: March 21-25, 2004
Where: Well, that's a good question …
Plan A: Leave Sunday and head for the Little River Canyon in Alabama to meet up with Ted and Gary from Florida and run some new rivers. Then leave Tuesday and head for the Obed for the official 2004 CCC trip.
Plan B: There's no water in the Little River Canyon. Head for West Virginia where the water is plentiful and the air temps are frigid. Pack every piece of polypro and fleece you own. The Cranberry is running. We'll call the Brabecs to see what they're up to, head north and run the Cheat, the Tygart, Big Sandy and probably the Yough.
Plan C: I have a message on my cell phone from Robert on Saturday afternoon. "Don't go to West Virginia! There's a line of thunderstorms heading for Tennessee! I'll call you later."
Plan D: 8:00 a.m. Sunday morning, and Robert and Jack are heading for Tellico Plains. The Tellico is running, but just above minimum. We all head down I-40. After all, it's not vacation if you aren't on I-40, at least for a little while.
Plan E: En route, I call Pete Gutillo to get a feel for what's running. Big Laurel, you say?? At 0"on Saturday, and it rained last night? Multiple cell phone minutes used to communicate with Jack and Robert, who are in separate vehicles just behind me. We head for Hot Springs. We paddle Big Laurel as the cold front moves in. On the French Broad, we paddle into hurricane-force wind, which does nothing to improve my opinion of the French Broad. Robert shows me a cool creeking line on river left through Frank Bell's.
Robert: It was great to finally put a boat in the water after all the trauma that preceded this trip. The run was great until we hit the French Broad. I'm used to paddling into a headwind here but this was wind was down right Tolkienean. It threatened to pull my paddle out of my hands if I relaxed my grip. All you could do was keep a paddle blade in the water and tough it out. Mountain Island shielded the wind for us while we ran Kayaker's Ledge but Frank Bells was like a wind tunnel. The wind didn't let up until the next morning, when a few snowflakes reminded us that it was still winter in these parts.
At the campground, Jack, who is recovering from some nasty bug, decides he doesn't need to camp in the wind and the cold, and heads for Harriman. We believe we're going to paddle Clear Creek the next day. We'll rendezvous with Jack, and then pick up the Florida contingency, Ted and Gary, tomorrow. Robert and I eat Creole beans and rice, try to stay warm by the campfire (wood supplied by Jack), and use up a lot of waxed socks.
Plan E(1): Jack went all the way to Wartburg and is snug at the Scenic River Inn in an enormous but inexpensive room with a t.v. and heat (Scenic river Inn,915 Main Street, Wartburg, TN 423-346-5733)
Plan E(2): Robert and I decide to invade Jack's space and bunk in his room rather than camp at Frozen Head because the overnight low is 29 degrees, and thus the campground is aptly named. We pick up Ted and Gary, and head for Wartburg. Ted has called his wife, and there's water in the Obed.
Plan F: It's Monday and Crooked Fork is running (3.7' at the Hwy 27/19 bridge), at least from Potter's Falls, down. We'll do that today, and then we'll paddle Daddy's tomorrow and Clear Creek on Wednesday. Apparently we like Plan F, because we do exactly that.
Neither Gary nor Ted has ever run Upper Potters Falls. Robert, Jack and I have, and each has his own reason for deciding against doing so this day. Robert and Jack have legitimate reasons with bad disks in their backs. I just can't find a line I like and figure since the water is low, I'll stall at the top and wind up doing a face plant at the bottom of an 18' waterfall. I have seen it happen, and it wasn't pretty. Ted runs the falls first, stalls at the top, and still manages to land fairly flat at the bottom. Gary takes a different line with similar results. The rest of the run is uneventful. The water is low, it's a bit scrapey in places, but typically beautiful.
Robert: Once again we made a late start and because of this we regrettably omitted the Lamance Falls section of the creek. We put in below Lower Potters Falls. Ted and Gary were first timers on Crooked Fork so they had to run Upper Potters Falls. The rest of us declined. Even though we skipped the class IV (V) section above Potters Falls I would almost rate the run as a class IV run, except for the fact that all the rapids are class III or less. I know that sounds strange but these class IIIs are very technical and appear one after another. If a paddler told me that they were comfortable on class III whitewater I would consider this run to be very challenging to them.
We are so happy to have a nice motel room to go to at the end of the run. There is a knock on the door shortly after we arrive, and a Canadian named Jack is standing at the door asking us if we're paddling, and can he and his cohorts joins us?? Soon, the room is filled with four additional men, and "Boater Talk" is no match for these guys. We agree to meet at 9:00 a.m. I cook some clam and chorizo sauce over pasta on the tailgate of my truck. The gentleman who runs the motel is quite tolerant of our comings, goings and cookings. Jay Trayler shows up sometime in the night.
Still sticking with Plan F, we all run the Class V shuttle to Daddy's Creek, Antioch Bridge to OBJ, on Tuesday after figuring out the logistics. The "Canadians", as we dubbed them until we realize that only Jack was actually from Canada, are in a Winnebago-type vehicle. That proves to be a challenge to work into the shuttle arrangements, and we leave it behind. But not before stopping in the Ranger Station in Wartburg and talking with the folks in the know about the safety of our vehicles and who we can pay to safe-keep them at the take-out. We are reassured that there hasn't been any trouble with cars being broken into for the last two years. Off we go, and at the take out, we pass the trailer with the pickup truck full of garbage that hasn't moved or been emptied since I've been going on this annual trip. The next house on the right side of the road has a fence with the heads and coats of wild pigs mounted on fence posts. There must be at least half a dozen heads. I am reminded of Lord of the Flies, and I am thinking the French Broad isn't so bad after all.
We run into Dave Luinstra who keeps shaking his head, grinning, and saying "Oh no!" as he sees each one of us in turn. Dave volunteers to lead the way down Big South Fork tomorrow. Daddy's Creek is fun, and we all make it down without any real carnage.
Robert: This was the best day of the trip. The sky was blue, the sun was warm and the water was clear emerald green. This is the lowest I've ever run Daddy's Creek (1.15 feet). It’s still very doable and tons of fun. The line I always take on "Fang" was practically de-watered. It would rattle your teeth. I apologize to those who followed me. The hike out at Obed Junction seems to get longer every year. It's about a ten minute walk.
We unwind shuttle, relieved that no car had been broken into, and an hour and a half later are talking about going to Granny's for dinner. By this time, Robert Weddle and Pat Glazier have joined the group. We head to Granny's where Jim almost gets hitched to the owner's 17 year-old daughter.
We paddle Clear Creek on Wednesday. It's running 450 cfs. Now, on a personal note, I'm thinking I can paddle this new Pyranha boat of mine and be mostly okay since the creek section is short and we'll be on the Obed in no time. We get to Jack's Rock, which in my feeble memory is just a slightly inclined rock slide. Robert is standing on the rock across from Jack's and is motioning for me to come straight towards him, but somehow I manage in my new and unfamiliar boat to slide off the right side of Jack's Rock into a crevice that swallows me temporarily and then spits me out right-side up. Who knew there was this much verticality to Jack's Rock? Everyone except the unfortunate souls who ignored Robert's directions and followed my line, like Jay (nice brace at the bottom, dude). The rest of the trip is again, uneventful (thank you, thank you, thank you) and a good time is had by all. Now it is Wednesday, and it is time to say good-bye to the Scenic River Inn and head over to Frozen Head. Pat also has a Winnebago-type shelter, along with a hibachi grill, so Robert, Pat, and I grill out steaks at camp, and then there is the great gathering of paddlers at the group site around a fire. Waxed underwear is sacrificed. I am leaving in the morning, which has nothing to do with the "Ned Beatty underwear" sacrifice but rather my cat has issues and the babysitter's shift is over. The remaining group is paddling Big South Fork tomorrow. Nat and Todd show up in the night, and Robert and I give them directions to the Yough and the Dries of the New, and vow to paddle with them next year.