Splish Splash, We Was Taking a Bath – August 15, 2019

Less than 24 hours after soaring through the Appalachian skies, I was already looking for my next adrenaline fix. Fortunately, George had booked reservations with the Blue Heron Whitewater rafting company for a full-day trip on the French Broad River. Joining us for the day was George and Roxanne’s neighbor, Peter (Peter and his wife, Mimi, had hosted us on Monday night to a delicious dinner of chicken and dumpling stew cooked in a cast iron dutch oven over an open wood fire).

In order to get to the river on time, we all had to be ready for an early morning getaway. If you look below, you can see, in the pre-dawn glow of a trunk lid light, the very disappointed face of a would-be stowaway.

As with the day before, we began our trip by signing lengthy liability waivers and sitting through an orientation briefing that emphasized the importance of ‘taking personal responsibility for our actions’, in order to ensure our safe return from this journey.

Outfitted with helmets, personal flotation devices (they made sure to point out that these were NOT lifejackets – likely on the advice of their corporate counsel), and kayak paddles, we were pumped up and ready to go.

The four of us (Roxanne, George, Peter and me) chose to use individual inflatable kayaks, known as ‘Duckies’. During orientation, our river guide told us that these were suitable for those who (1) had some basic skills in handling a boat, and (2) those who wanted a little more excitement going down the river. Since I met at least one of the two criteria, I was pleased with my decision to go with the duckie. The rest of the tour's rafters rode in a large multi-person raft piloted by our river guide. We would be following their raft down the river in a line, in what could be best described as the ‘mother duck’ and her four duckies.

Our rafting route took us 9 miles down the river, starting in the whistle-stop ‘town’ of Barnard, and ending at the Hot Springs Resort. This stretch of river has rapids rated Class I through Class IV (the higher the number, the more exciting the ride). We put our vessels into the water and off we went.

The first couple of Class II and III rapids got our blood flowing nicely.

Me.

Peter.

Roxanne.

George.

We pulled over for a quick dip into the river, via a jump of approximately 3 meters from a shoreline rock outcropping.

Me.

Peter, waving to the admiring crowd of onlookers.

Later on, we pulled over to a sandy beach, where our guides set up a buffet table for our lunch. This allowed us to prepare ourselves for the next set of rapids, including the Class IV known as Frank Bell’s Rapids.

After lunch, and after getting through a couple of more Class III’s, it was time for our final rapid – Frank Bell’s. Our guide gathered her four duckies into a calm stretch of water to give us some last-minute advice on navigating the multi-drop rapids. She calmly told us that about 50% of the rafters ended up ‘swimming’ through this part of the river. According to her, once the rafter is dislodged from her/his vessel, the churning water (called a ‘hydraulic’) will take you to the bottom for what seems like a very long and dark several seconds, and then shoot you out into a relatively calm pool on the other side of the rapids. She said it was important to remain calm, hold your breath, and keep your feet pointed downstream while this is happening. And, she also offered us a last chance to ditch the duckies and ride the big raft the rest of the way.

Although this little duckie may have been quacking quite a bit while riding through the previous rapids, and he may have even felt some quaking sensations, he was not going to crack (quack?) under the pressure – so it was 'damn the torpedoes and full steam ahead!'

Our guide sent a large raft ahead of us to wait (and, to gleefully observe the action) for us on the other side.

We have no photos of Frank Bell’s rapids because everyone was focused on making it through. So, I’ll just have to tell the story:  I went first, using the logic that there would still be potential rescuers both upriver and downriver. All I remember is seeing a quickly approaching horizon, water above me, around me and below me; and then a big sigh of relief as I shot over the last drop – backwards! – and into the calm pool below. I was still in the boat!

Next, it was Roxanne’s turn. She’s done a lot of canoeing with George and her experience showed as she skillfully wove her way through the rapid. There was one point where she got a little off track, but she made it back on course just in time for the last and biggest drop.

Then, it was Peter’s opportunity to showcase his waterman’s skills. He displayed a calm and stoic visage as he blasted through the rapid with a few well-placed strokes of his paddle.

Finally, it was time for George to come through. We had already beat the 50% attrition threshold described by our guide, so it was with great anticipation that we awaited the final, and most experienced, member of our duckie group.

Things started out great as George went over the first couple of drops. Even the river guide, in the raft waiting below, commented on how well George was using his paddle to take him through the rough water. As he dropped onto the penultimate shelf, however, the river gods decided to give George a spanking. He got turned laterally into a large hydraulic and he could not paddle out of it. A murmur went through the crowd of rafters waiting below as we wondered what would happen next.

Meanwhile, our own guide’s large raft (they had been waiting above the rapids) came down through the rapids past George and into the viewing area. Now, it was just George and the river.

We could see him getting pulled slowly back toward the churning wall of water above him. Then, in just an instant, we saw the duckie do a barrel roll back into the water behind it. 

When the boat righted itself, there was no one in it. In fact, there was no sign of anyone ever having been in the boat as we scanned the water along the length of the rapids. After a few seconds, an empty bootie floated to the surface, quickly followed by a very wide-eyed George grasping his paddle in one hand and treading water with the other hand.

The waiting crowd was very relieved (and ultimately, much entertained) to see this. I must say that, personally, this was the highlight of my entire trip. Thanks, George!

George waving to us - look closely.

On the shuttle bus back to rafting headquarters, our guide held a brief ceremony inducting George into the Blue Heron Whitewater Swim Club. It was a good day.

Next: Some woodcraft