But after only a week of being in my new home with my brother, I happened one night to see a Facebook post from Stephen about rafting (if you've read my blog entry about rafting the Ocoee at 8500, you'll remember that Stephen is the brother of Carlo Smith, who owns Adventures Unlimited, the company I guide for. Stephen is a good friend of mine and will appear often in my whitewater stories). On November 9th, Stephen posted:
"Dawn and I are thinking about an Upper Hiwassee run tomorrow since the Chattooga is getting so high. We're looking for some people to join us. Call, text, or reply if you want to come make a trip tomorrow."
I stood in my bedroom reading the post. I had not yet found a winter job. I had no obligations; I was not short on money; I could make this trip. As I realized these things I began to burst with excitement. I had heard the Upper Hiwassee was a good run, and it would my first new river - thus far I had only ever run the Ocoee. It was, however, 9 o'clock at night and they were making this trip the next morning; I was three hours away from the Chattanooga area.
I immediately called Stephen to see what the situation was like. He told me so far it was him, Dawn, Chuck, and Chris Noles. I asked where they were meeting and what time. He told me Hiwassee Outfitters, 10 o'clock. I said I would call him right back. I ran downstairs to David and Robyn to ask them if there was any pressing thing that should keep me here the next day - did Robyn need me to watch Lincoln, my nephew, or did David need me to help with yard work? They said there was nothing that should prevent me from going, and both laughed with me in my excitement. I ran back upstairs, called Stephen, and exclaimed that I would be there. He asked me to repeat myself because in my hysterical excitement he thought I was actually crying. Sometimes, I should confess, I become greatly enthusiastic about things.
It was difficult trying to go to sleep that night, but I drifted off at some point and awoke again at 4:30 in the morning. I loaded up the car with all my gear, dry clothes, and food, and set out at about 5:00. I watched the sun rise as I drove down 840 toward Interstate 24. For some people, the drive to Chattanooga may seem long. For me, I'd driven that route so many times it just felt like going home.
When I came into Ocoee I stopped by the Outpost to pick up the wetsuit I had asked Jamie if I could borrow. Then I took Highway 411 toward the Hiwassee and arrived at Hiwassee Outfitters shortly after 10:00. Chris was the only one there when I pulled in, and shortly after Chuck drove up. We exchanged hugs and exclamations of "I'm so stoked!" When Stephen and Dawn arrived, we got two Pumas from the boat shed and strapped them on top of Stephen's paddling van. We hit the dirt road up the mountain, and off we were.
The drive over the mountains really was breathtaking. It was akin to riding a jeep trail, and each turn afforded beautiful overlooks of the mountains around us staged before a brilliant blue sky. About halfway through the ride we stopped to look at some old ruins near a creek, and when we did Chuck hopped out of the van and motioned for me and Chris to get out too. Chuck always has some wild plan up his sleeve, and I love him for it. So we got out and Chuck climbed up the side ladder on top of the van. The boat deck Stephen had mounted there was just big enough for all three of us to stand on the forefront of the deck and hold on to the Puma straps with one hand. So that's how we rode the rest of the way. We ducked trees, balanced our bodies like surfers on ocean waves, and whooped and hollered. We were already having a blast.
When we arrived at the place where we planned to put in, we unloaded the boats and the gear and Dawn drove the van to a nearby parking area. In the meantime, Chris Noles found a way to climb on top of the giant green flume line extending over the river, and Chuck and I joined him eagerly.
(In this photo, from left to right - Me, Stephen, and Chuck)
(Chuck doing a headstand on top of the flume)
(Chris, Me (hidden in front of Chris) and Dawn ahead of us walking the flume. Dawn joined us when she got back from parking the car.)
Once we were all geared up Stephen lowered the boats down from the road into the creek running beside it. It was not the Hiwassee, but it was a tributary that joined the Hiwassee not very far down. So we put on and did a little creeking until we reached the Upper H. Stephen and Dawn R2ed, and Chris and Chuck and I R3ed.
The first major rapid we came to was a Class IV called Hollywood Bowl.
At the entrance, the rapid contains a great ledge shaped like a horseshoe. As we dropped the ledge, the current quickly started pulling us river right, but we needed to go middle left. As we paddled forward to fight the cross current we nearly pinned the tree shown in this photo directly in front of the kayaker - the tree whose leaves are noticeably lighter in shade of green than the others. We scraped by it, dropped the next ledge (where I perceived two great V-shaped waves converging upon us), and fought our way through the rest of the rapid where massive boulders threatened to pin or flip our little Puma.
(Bottom of the Bowl)
I was pumped after we got to the bottom of Hollywood Bowl. I was thrilled with the excitement of not knowing what lay ahead. I had only ever been on a river that I knew, and knew well. When I go down the Ocoee, I know what each rapid looks like; I know what I'm going to need to do with my raft; I know (for most part) what I need to avoid. But this was another ballgame. I knew nothing of what to expect. And that added a keen intensity that raised my adrenaline levels.
Another rapid we encountered consisted of a narrow passage where all the water was forced into a tight channel that created a large V-shaped wave train. That alone is not very frightening, but directly to the right of that channel was a series of boulders, almost like a wall, all of which were severely undercut. Water poured through the bottoms of these boulders. Consequently, the water flowing from under the boulders created a cross current that collided forcefully with the wave train through the channel. All that to say, if we ran the wave train straight and caught any edge of that cross current, it would undoubtedly flip our raft and send our bodies swimming into the undercuts.
So Chuck, who was guiding our raft while Chris and I paddled, pulled a move that was so sweet, so cool, I can only relate it to a skateboarding trick. As we approached the convergence of these two currents, Chuck held the boat straight entering the V train until I nearly thought he meant to risk flipping us; but at the last second, he whipped the boat around and angled the raft with its nose inches away from the boulder wall so that he was "grinding" the two currents where they met. I hope the reader can imagine what I mean. Picture a skateboarder flying down a sidewalk approaching a set of stairs, with short railing beside these stairs. He maintains a "downstream" angle just until the very moment that he's next to the railing, and then, on his board, he leaps up onto that railing so that he's now made a 90 degree turn and rides the rail perpendicular. That's what it was like. But in a raft. It was awesome.
Another rapid I remember well had a ledge extending about half the width of the river. We didn't notice the horizon line immediately as we approached it, so we found ourselves scurrying to face upstream and ferry away from that ledge. We didn't want to run the drop because we had not discussed it with Stephen and therefore didn't know what was on the other side - perhaps pinning rocks, anything. As we slid down a tongue of water just left of this ledge I looked over and observed the most frightening hydraulic hole I've ever seen. I'm not sure I can actually explain what it looked like because the physics of it didn't make any sense. The water pouring off the ledge here seemed to pour at a steep angle, perhaps 60 or 70 degrees, but not straight down like a waterfall. The boil was extremely abnormal-looking. The water seemed to boil excessively high in relation to the water pouring from the ledge - like the hole was very deep, but the boil very high. I just can't articulate this well enough. Whereas most boats will hit a hole and either punch through it, or crank sideways and flip, or stall out and surf, it seemed that if a boat ran into this one, the hole would eat the raft and suck it all the way down the bottom of the river and never let it resurface. Now, I realize physics don't work that way. But this is what it looked like. It was scary, and I will most likely forevermore avoid that hole.
I had an awesome time rafting the Upper Hiwassee with those guys. The rapids weren't very consistent in comparison with the Ocoee, but when we hit a big rapid, it was great fun.
(Me and Chris at the end of the Upper)
After we finished the Upper we paddled the Lower to get all the way back to Hiwassee Outfitters, whose outpost is right on the river.
(From left to right - Chuck, me, and Chris - Paddling the Lower)
When we got the boats put away in the shed, we said our goodbyes and I headed back to the outpost to return my wetsuit. I spent some time with a friend and left Ocoee around 7 o'clock. When I finally arrived at home in Lebanon, I went straight to bed and crashed. I had made a round trip to Ocoee and back in one day, with rafting in between. And that's when I realized - while I'm young and single, with no financial constraints or housewife duties, I can make a day or weekend trip to any river in the East, and raft all through the winter.
And so it began.
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