It rained. It poured. The heavens opened and water was flung upon the earth. It was not a monsoon, it was close. Creeks ran like rivers. Rivers raged like oceans. Everywhere there could be seen small plastic boats attached to the tops of cars and in the beds of trucks. Running hither and thither in the backwoods of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Gravel roads washed out by the downpour being traversed by compact car and four wheel drive alike. A motley cadre of different folks using different strokes to navigate streams that are usually the stuff of wet hikes. Casual paddlers beware, this is the stuff news stories are made of.
“WOMAN TUBER FOUND DROWNED”
“6 PULLED FROM RIVER BY SWIFT WATER RESCUE CREW”
“TEENAGER DROWNED WHILE INTOXICATED”
The warm weather brings out the recreational, the casual, the ignorant. The high water should be enough of a warning, however in society today it seems many have forgotten there is no safety net between us and mother nature. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best and expect the unexpected.
The first ledge is a muted version of itself, normally a tight funnel with a noticeable increase in water speed, today the water has crested the whole ledge. There is no funnel. There is only a wave, river wide, with choppy white caps afterwards. The following stretch of water is paddled, not briskly, but not leisurely. Saving strength and energy are paramount. Fun is to be had, Fun requires calories. The next drop is a decent surf wave, the kayakers twist and spin and loop and side surf, seemingly effortless gymnastics on water. The canoe bounces lightly in the eddy, seeming to enjoy the kiddie pool quite thoroughly, not daring to venture out onto the smooth convoluted surface of the river wave. The glass like surface of the water only giving hint to the ferocity of which if speeds by when a leave or twig or spot of foam goes racing by. The kayaker sits facing upstream, bow of his tiny boat piercing that glass wave and bouncing back up, water rushing over the top of the boat. The hull glides effortlessly down the backside of the wave towards the trough, then slides back up towards the crest, simple touches of the paddle to water to keep the direction and attitude necessary to maintain. A quick snap of the hips and a flick of the blades and the kayak is 180 degrees about face. Another flash of movement and the circle is complete, glass wave barely disturbed, a full turn by the kayak.
Two quick strokes and the nose of the boat is buried in the wave, the head of the kayaker, helmeted in bright orange tucks quickly towards the bow of the kayak. The boat starts to go vertical, the pilot pushes down with his feet on the pegs inside his boat, the stern begins to lift higher, the speeding glass wave grabs the bow of the boat rocketing it downstream, the stern comes flying over, catches where the bow just left, gets thrown downstream and the boat lands on its hull just as it was before. A loop. Aquatic acrobatics abound.
This is OUR Endless Summer.