Details

Written by Tony Shaw

Category: Trip Reports

Published: 15 March 2006

Hits: 30

Organizer(s): Tony Shaw

Date: 2005-10-16

Kayakers (K1): Dan Beideck, Dave Gurtman

Canoers (OC1): Eric Bishop, Tony Shaw

Predominantly: Advanced WW

Water Level: Medium high

Primary Realtime USGS Gauge Flow (cfs), e.g. '797': ~900

It seems whenever we've run Joe's Brook in the past we are left saying: "It would be nice with 6 more inches of water". Well...this day was an occasion to experience those extra 6 inches of water...and then some!

For Dan and Dave, recent emmigrants from Philly and Portland, OR., respectively, this was their first Joe's Brook trip. I can only imagine their horror when their fearless open-boat leader (me) and his trusty open-boat sidekick (Eric) accelerated cockily over the first faint horizon line without scouting and proceeded to both ~simultaneously flip and swim! I am no mathemetician, but it seems to me the length of a rapid most certainly varies with how high up in it you SWIM! All I remember is glancing over to my right now and then to be sure Eric was doing OK, and then finding the adreneline rush I needed to self-rescue not one canoe...but two (a first for me)!

The rest of the ride to the Greenbanks Hollow covered bridge was uneventful, though Dan in particular voiced his unease over the brook's tendency to pick up speed around every blind corner and how this has deposited several strainers in hard-to-avoid places along the way.

It was too juicy a level to consider running the steep Covered Bridge section or the gorge section below Morses Mills, in my opinion, at least for open boats. So we loaded up the gear, scouted the tail end of the gorge section on foot, and then shuttled down to "Bottom Joe's" - the seldom run last 2 miles to the Passumpsic. Even this section (considered tamer than those above), gave the open boaters some difficulty. After one short swim here, I had a chance to see how well my canoe can side-surf holes ALL BY ITSELF. I know now this can go on for 5 or 10 minutes, at least, before the randomness of churning waters eventually nudges it onward!

In the future when GMP says the Joe's Pond dam bladder is all the way down I will take heed, and stay off Joe's Brook in my open boat, though the decked boaters in our group seemed eager for their next juicy Joe's adventure...

Details

Written by Cheryl Robinson

Category: Trip Reports

Published: 15 September 2005

Hits: 35

Date: 2005-09-02

End Date: 2005-09-05

Kayakers (K1): Rick Cooley, Simon Wiles, Cheryl Robinson, Jake Whitcomb, Chis Skalka, Bobby Pfister, Dave, Max, Jon M, John Bungard, Steve Graybill, Ed Clark and plenty of others

Deck Canoers (C1): Alden Bird, Joe Stumpfel

Predominantly: Advanced WW

Water Level: Medium

My stomach churns, my hands are sweaty...I am thinking about running a huge technical drop...I am actually day dreaming. The sickening feeling is my car sickness taking a hold. The miles and miles of dirt road are starting to take its toll.

"Where the hell are we?" I impatiently shout at Simon "nearly there" he replies.

An hour later we arrive at the SoftMaple campground.

I am excited we have three days of solid boating ahead and it all begins here..

Taylorville

Si "advised a nice easy grade3" lulling me into false sense of security. I learnt early on in paddling not to read guide book descriptions. They are just there to scare you into not running anything other than grade2.

Our first run wasn't pretty. We were the first on the river and somehow three of us ended up in the same hole at the same time. One swimmer, mangled bloody knuckles and a good trashing wasn't a good start to the day!!

I think we even managed to scare some of the kayakers watching, who wisely decided to put in below the first drop.

The next drop...The slide..wow 30ft of pure pleasure only to be thrown right into a hole at the bottom...we survived this one unscathed and upright.

The next rapid ate me for dinner and spat me out with a black eye. It obviously didn't like the taste of an English chick.

The rest of the run we had a swimmer here and there. The whole run was fantastic drop, pool slide pool drop pool drop pool...play spot the perfect river.

We did a second run and revenged it big time, and we even ran the slot chute a couple of times for fun.

Afterwards I read the guidebook Dennis's description perfectly describes it.

While most of us headed back to Camp to lick our wounds and cleanse them from the inside with Alcohol. Si and a few others headed out to the Oswagatchie.

Day 2 Moshier

You know it is going to be a good river when your paddling with the likes of Freddie Corriel, Justin Beckwith and Alden Bird!!

Freddie wowed everyone with his grace and finesse by running a supposedly unrunnable nasty first slide, clean and uneventful.

First was a nice clean 12ft waterfall, which was great to practice the boof stroke and get the muscles warmed up.

The second a waterfall followed by two nasty holes...scary so I portaged!!

After a couple of grade 3+ rapids the Encore arrived a long grade 5 rapid...but where was the water?? Oops it looks like we got ahead of ourselves.

When the water arrived the drop was run over and over again...I watched from the bank...The lines looked fairly clean, I was tempted...okay maybe next year.

On the second run the water was higher and the last hole had kayakers for Lunch breakfast and dinner and even two at time...serious carnage!!

Eagle...

Well I didn't even bother kitting up for this. I watched in amazement as paddler after paddler like a line of lemmings run through this narrow grade 5 run....it looked fun, and scary.

It is a steep, rocky, narrow, ledgy run all in one, it is a steep creek lovers dream.

The carnage was minimal, but when it did happen the unfortunate kayaker got cheered and clapped from the huge crowd that had come to watch "those crazy people".

The final day had arrived and I was thankfully that a group consensus enabled us to paddle at Taylorville one last time...That is definitely one of my favorite rivers now. With my boofing perfected I nailed my lines like a dream. The highlight was running the 30ft slide a couple of times.

We then moved on to Raquette. Alden hadn't run it before, and I felt kinda sorry for him when the group decided he wouldn't be allowed to scout anything...on that note I volunteered to be the groups shuttle bunny...I have run the Raquette before, but I am not confident enough not to scout. So I sat in the sun, borrowed a Dog and stuffed myself on cookies and beer...it's a hard life.

The guys on the other hand raced down the river two times...I think they almost ran out of water on the second run.

They came armed with tales of fist fights in eddies and broken boats from badly run waterfalls (none of them were our group).

Huge smiles, beers and new friendships ooh and cookies seemed to be the perfect ending to the weekend!!

WARNING the English are taking over!!! I was surprised at the amount of English paddlers I met over the weekend...

Details

Written by Cheryl Robinson

Category: Trip Reports

Published: 17 October 2005

Hits: 43

Organizer(s): Cheryl

Date: 2005-10-15

Kayakers (K1): Cheryl, Jim, Lisa, Martha, Steve, John B, Jon M, Ian and a few others

Predominantly: Int-adv WW

Water Level: Medium

The day began out superb, albeit cloudy. I was about to paddle with my favorite buddies and a few extra bringing the group total up to 16. We were putting on the lower Moose. I was excited because last year I had done it really low. This year there was water and lots of it, but I knew I wasn't going to be pushing my limits. We played around near the put in. I was pleased that I managed to surf my creek boat, I felt the day was going to be good. I confidently ran the next drop picked the perfect line and carefully sat in the eddy and watched everyone else come down like a line of lemmings. We came to Tannery, which is one of the more substantial rapids on the Lower Moose. We took off to scout. While scouting I watched as a couple of kayakers including some of our own group chose a line towards the center which dropped you in to an eddy. The line looked worse than it actually was. I chatted with the group and we eyed up a sneak on the hard right and at the same time I noticed a sweet tongue through the holes. The holes were munching and but were not tremendously huge but definitely on the sticky side. We scouted the rest of the rapid and noted the next major ledge could only be run down the centre tongue to avoid any carnage with the river wide hole. As we walked back I began to scout the line between the top two holes. I ran it over and over in my head I picked key points knowing if I decided to run it there was no margin for error. Nobody else seemed keen on my line so we agreed Lisa would run the center line, Jim the sneak and I would follow warning everybody I may decided to change from Jim's line and commit to my own. I followed about 2 ft behind Jim, I looked below and the line looked too tempting to pass up the opportunity. I knew I could make it. In my head I knew I had to come down the tongue with my bow facing slightly right, brace on to the kicker, which would in all accounts kick me right, just behind the hole. Allowing me to use the slack water behind to set up for my next maneuver. I watched Jim go right and I knew once I was left of my key rock I was committed! I committed. I paddled down the tongue my bow slightly right braced off the kicker and then all hell broke loose! Had I miss judged the slack water? Had I not hit the kicker right? I was now in the hole in my kayak. I wasn't too concerned I rolled the boat up and began to side surf. However the violence of the hole had literally forced me to side surf lying on my back deck. My skirt stretched at max as the bow went down the force of water began to peel the skirt off around the rim'S!%t ... s!%t! No problem the hole wasn't huge so I thought it would just release me! Things went from bad to really f*!^ing bad! I tried to move in the hole but every time I tried either to surf or dive I would be violently flipped. This wasn't good ... everything I had been taught was not working. I tried to hold my head above the surface so I could see what was happening around me ... Jim was out of his boat. For some stupid reason I began to scream 'Help' even though my brain was telling me to calm down and be rationale and save my breath. The next few moments seem to take for ever. I was continuously being bashed and beaten around in the hole ... towards the end I began to think every breath would be last! My vision was starting to blur, my breaths were short and felt like fire. My body felt like it had begun to shut down - I tried to relax in the hope if I relaxed the water would some how force me out. I looked at the surface only to see the throw line down stream! I irrationally screamed 'help' I was annoyed at myself for wasting my possibly last breath. From the bank. Jim and Martha had witnessed my entrance it to the hole and assumed as I had that it would quickly release me. They scrambled from their boats when they realized I was in a bad situation. Jim became frustrated that when he threw the rope at me I would disappear under water and resurface behind the hole. They watched helplessly as despite the fact it looked like slack water, the hole would take me for my next down time. I knew they were throwing me a line so every time I went down I tried to keep my hands above the surface so they could see I was still trying to catch the line. The thoughts running through my head ranged from 'God if this is my time to go, please don't make it any more painful I want it to be quick' Oh f!%^ what must be going through my friends' heads watching me struggle in here, f!%^ why should they have to witness this? This is it - this is my last breath - it hurts so much ... My relaxation or something must have worked - I flushed out. They reckon I was in the Hole for over a minute. They had time to throw one throw line twice! After coming out of the hole I wasn't out of danger - I was still at the top of the rapid. John B tried to get me on his stern - my lack of breath/energy and the strength of the water just ripped me away and carried me down stream. As I was carried down stream I gasped for every little bit of air I could get, terrified that I may end up in the next hole! Thankfully I was cleanly swept down stream, I don't remember if I hit anything. My body whole system felt like it was on shut-down, it was totally unresponsive to any actions I asked it. I hit the pool at the bottom where John immediately let me grab his bow then stern. He was too tired to paddle me in so between him and another boater I rested until a raft that had witnessed it all dragged me on board and took me to shore. (they had also rescued my kayak). My lungs felt like they were on fire, I could barely breath still. In my dazed state on shore too weak to cry I was grateful to be alive and for the quick thinking of people around me. In a good rationale decision I decided to take off. Two days later I am still hurting - but I am so thankful for everyone who helped in the rescue - even for the Hugs and Tears at the end. Unfortunately for the rest of the crew the day continued in the same manner .. carnage after carnage, the lower Moose Gods were certainly at large.

Details

Written by Alden Bird

Category: Trip Reports

Published: 14 September 2005

Hits: 31

Date: 2005-09-01

End Date: 2005-09-05

Kayakers (K1): Rick Cooley, Simon Wiles, Cheryl Robinson, Jake Whitcomb, Chis Skalka, Bobby Pfister, Dave, Max, John Bungard, Steve Graybill, Ed Clark

Deck Canoers (C1): Joe Stumpfel, Alden Bird

Predominantly: Advanced WW

Water Level: Medium

At least to get all this paddling, briefly, down on paper. Let's see, the first day I did Fish Creek in NY. Actually, the river was very high and the folks I met at the take out bridge opted to run a side creek instead. Somewhat disappointing.

Next day Jake and Rick and I hiked 3 miles up the trail and ran John's Brook in Keene Valley. 5 miles of Big Branch style boulder gardens. Jake fired up the usually-portaged drop and impressed me deeply by acing it.

After that, we drove over and took a fast, sweet run down the Middlebury Gorge and then some runs off Otter Creek Falls.

Next morning we woke and Rick and I took a quick run down the Middlebury again and I experienced one of the most rewarding moments in my short boating career.

For years I have been making due with a right stroke while going off the waterfall (Fallopian) in the heart of the Middlebury. It never works. Since I am a right-handed canoeist, it is very difficult for to me make the hard move to the right off the waterfall. Consequently I often end up in the dangerous river-left "room" that is hard to escape.

But on this day, I broke through. I finally gathered the courage to try a cross-bow boof off the 15-foot Fallopian. I let Rick go first, so he would be ready to pick up the pieces if necessary. I caught the eddy just above the lip (not frickin easy - I almost fell out backwards!) and looked over my shoulder. Since we were in the depths of the unportageable section of the gorge, nobody could have watched me visibly psyching myself up. Years ago I climbed in to scout the waterfall and it took almost 30 minutes of dicey rock-climbing moves to get to the edge of the cliff above. So as I held onto the cliff while bobbing in the eddy on this day, it was just me up in there and I was a little on edge to say the least.

My mind was not exactly made up when I peeled out. At times like this, I think of a former kayaking friend who used to say, "I'll make a game-time decision." Yet when I got to the edge, it felt right. I went for it.

The water was low. I was worried about landing upside down - so little balance does the crossbow offer in turbulent water. Still, I knew that Rick was down there and that made me feel safe.

I came around the corner. No speed. I twisted my body into a pretzel - cross bow. I grabbed the lip with my paddle as I started to fall and swung as much leverage into the blade as I could, my whole frame propped over the edge with no brace, 15 feet off the deck for a split second. I flung out from the falls seemingly the same as always and landed and braced for the inevitable explosion of white tonage on my stern and the inevitable combat roll that would be demanded of me.

It never came. I landed clear of the falls - miraculous! - safe in the coveted river right eddy - right next to Rick. I shrugged. I couldn't believe it had worked. It didn't feel that different. It reminded me of when someone gives you gapingly common-sensical advice, like, "Maybe if you just talk to her," and then you wave your hand, "No, that would never work!" But then, miraculously - it does.

We had to do another run! Rick didn't want to. But then Scott and another guy showed up and we just HAD to join them.

We did not catch a single eddy in the whole first mile through the upper gorge until we were above the waterfall. I was last in line. I watched everyone disappear down the hole-in-the-wall slot that leads to the long, flip-you rapid that pours through the notch-in-the-cliff that is Fallopian Falls. At the lip I took one cross bow stroke to correct my angle -- and then another on a "delayed boof" as I tilted downward. Again, I landed flat -- this time indisputably far (even for my own instincts) away from the white, falling water.

After that, the rest of the run was glorious. There is nothing that compares to a familiar, magnificent river in the company of (low-key) old friends who are just as blissfully lost on their own adventures as they are keeping an eye on you from 10 feet away while bombing the rapids and sliding off boof rocks like skiers off jumps.

After that we met up with everyone else and headed over to NY and ran many more rivers: the Boquet, Ausable, Oswegatchie, the Moshier, Eagle and Taylorville sections of the Beaver, and the Raquette.

The trip ended with a ferry ride across Lake Champlain at Essex at sunset on Monday. Nice way to relax and unwind after a great deal of whitewater.

See you on the river.