Whitewater Bachelor Party

2009 had gotten underway in the dead of winter with the two most boring months in a Midwest state. January and February are plain dead to me! Cold. Dark. Damp. Drab. Crap!

My pulse normally perks up with the warm weather and the touch of the sun. I am welcoming June and the summer to be, a hopeful endless one. Trying not to think about all good things coming to an eventual end.

Since my last post, I haven't been unusually busy, but enjoying my Cincinnati lifestyle. I've been on an adrenaline & adventure hunt as of late. My recent exposure to whitewater rafting and outdoor adventure sports is urging me to get outside and in touch with my sense and understanding of nature and more natural habitats that are known to man. I don't intend to pull a 'Supertramp' and leave everyone behind for the primal and lonely life of life in the wilderness, but portions of that epic tale are appealing at times. Especially when one comes to realize how amazing and powerful the various habitats throughout the world can be.

My whitewater experience was the result of getting away from the traditional 'let's get a stripper' bachelor party. Eleven dudes left for the New River in West Virginia on a Friday morning, all eager and whitewater virgins. Hints of our mindsets were exposed, included scenes from Deliverance and related back-country fables of toothless noodling hill-jacks playing banjos and spitting tobacco just waiting for clean cut city folk to toy with in a real test of survival.

Very little of that was apparent. We arrived to our camp ground and spot a group of frat boys drinking beer with their shirts of playing corn hole - the game - not the sexual act. But they probably did that later too!

We had a few drinks that night and gorged, choked, and chortled more that 40 hotdogs, brats, metts and italian sausages and bashed at least 5 bags of chips, all while trying to embarrass the bachelor in front of his dad and brother. But we were jacked up for the rafting trip early Saturday morning so we got some shut eye in our tents and giggled like a bunch of school girls at a slumber party. One puker. Not me. Torrential downpour all night.

Wakey wakey, eggs & bakey! Breakfast and wetsuit fitting were in order before our briefing on river safety, which they take quite seriously. Many deaths have been incurred many years prior and two people actually died while canoeing within the past few months on the same river we were about to raft. A little tense we were, but nobody really showed much emotion.

At the briefing, we are told that it rained too much so we'd have to take a portion of the river that was equivalent to "bath water Class I rapids". My head immediately stooped upon hearing this and boredom set in as it usually does when I get disgusted with a situation or have no interest. What a joke. Nobody's fault but mother nature! What a bitch.

Needless to say, the Saturday whitewater rafting was calm enough to breastfeed a baby on board.

The best part was jumping in the river and floating downstream much faster that the raft. The river was "blown out" so much that the shoreline on both sides of the river was easily 15 feet higher on a shoreline tree that was usually on dry land! The rocks and rapids were insignificant because the water simply filled every gap in rock formations and smoothed out elevations which made for a pretty chill lazy float.

More drinking and goofing around that night between the boys and the other hundred people or so at the lodge for 5 hours of free beer. Talk of staying Sunday and going again was had, but honestly I thought it was just hot air. Bed. More creepy stories by Dan. Less sleep. No rain.

8am I awake and find that 5 people had left already! Alex comes to my tent to ask if I'm willing to go rafting today. Wiping the sleeplessness sandman crust from my eyes I half-heartedly say "Sure".

Next thing I know I'm in a wetsuit and getting briefed again, except this time the group of 9 rafts to be is being severly warned of the dangers on the river. For all you river experienced folk out there, the top off limit for the Lower Gauley River is 10,000 cfs and the river was just that. Saturday it was at 14,000 cfs!

Hour drive to the raft launch site and extensive paddle instruction from our guide, none of which we had the previous day and we are off. A little nervous, excited, anxious, apprehensive, and a touch tired and hung over. The boat was quiet as we approached our first set of wave trains. We focused on our guides commands and paddled in sync, at least that was supposed to happen in theory. Usually we slapped paddles and splashed water on each other.

Prior to each set of waves and rapids, our guide would quarterback the team. He would tell us the name of the portion of the river, class type, what should happen to our raft, where we want to go, and where to swim if you fell out. Veering from jagged rocks and shoreline trees were crucial because that tend to grab feet and act as a bear trap all while the natural flow of the water takes you under to your ultimate demise.

We got through our first set of Class II rapids with relative ease except we pulled a little raft stunt which is called surfing. We unexpectedly turned our raft quickly to move on and of course I fell out, VOOOP! I was the first of 9 rafts full of 8 people each to fall out on the trip! Cheers and patronizing occurred and everyone got a little laugh after pulling me in. I tend to be the calming effect so I don't mind being the scape goat this time. Now everyone is a bit more calm and we are ready to go.

We hit a few Class II & III rapids and thought we were doing well. Our guide would raise his paddle up high as we'd all give a celebratory paddle high-5 after getting through a tough rapid, or what we thought was tough.

Soon, we start approaching the Class IV & V rapids, considered the most insane but manageable with someone as knowledgeable about our 15 year river guide veteran, Tom. He'd set us up for each run describing some as "Heaven Help Me, Rattlesnake Head, BFR (Big Fuckin Rock), Canyon Doors, The Juicer & The upper and lower Staircase." All of which gave everyone a cold shiver down their spine. I mean, c'mon, do they really need to call an area Heaven Help Me!!

Getting pounded by some of these currents was chaotic and controlled. Imaging approaching waves coming from every angle like a bucket of water being thrusted smack into your face. Trying to see what was ahead while paddling into 7 foot waves, getting knocked around, keeping your balance, trying not to knock another paddlers teeth out with a T-grip. At times, it did feel like we were just trying to survive. We even got caught in a no-no place and our guide had to improvise, quickly, to squeeze through two rocks, which happened to have a deviation of 4 feet as our boat drifts sideways off this seemingly small cliff. Half the paddlers fall in (Logan, Alex & Bittner) as the paddlers on my 'high' side (Mike & Chris) are keeping the raft from flipping. Minor panic mode sinks in. Bittner thought he was drowning. Somehow we got everyone aboard and look for an Eddy, otherwise known as a calm pool of water.

We watched rafts flip up and on its back as paddlers and oars explode everywhere. Guides on other rafts blow whistles so that rafts that are able to do so get in save and rescue mode. There was a period of 15 minutes where we chased disoriented paddlers who felt they'd been through the washing machine and are now doggie-paddlers. They'd get on board another raft drained of energy and breathe, just gasping for air.

Our raft never flipped. We rescued two people. Nobody died. We smiled the rest of the ride.

The rest is history and we got our exhilarating adventure. Our guide even said he should retire after a run like that, which means we took one epic excursion!

They say Gauley season is amazing in September. Some of us are already talking about going back.

West Virginia,
Mountain Mama,
Take me home,
Country Road!

Rivermen WWR Outfit - WWR, Canopy Tours (zip cords thru trees), Horseback trips, Mountain biking & more.