Saturday, December 6, 2014

Tell us a story about paddling Sprite Creek Grandpa....

This is a story from a few years ago. If you know Sprite Creek, or have paddled it, the locations and rapids will make sense.  If you've just stumbled across these ramblings and are unfamiliar with Sprite Creek and whitewater boating then a quick search around here should give some clues... and there's always you tube.  True story>

“When Beavers Walk”
Steve B@%9*z wanted to paddle Sprite Creek one day after some torrential rain. I was all set to walk away… or drive away over to East Canada Creek. Steve was persistent. I looked at the creek, looked at Steve, looked back at the creek. There was a huge amount of water, higher than I had ever paddled it. It just looked like a big flush with water well up the banks and flowing into the woods. Even though I had been paddling it everyday for the past several days at progressively higher levels, it didn’t make me feel anymore comfortable jumping in at the present flow.
I was completely serious when I turned back to Steve and said I didn’t think he knew what we would be getting into. To put it into context, I was explicit when I said we would be on our own once we slid into the water. I wasn’t expecting him to rescue me and I wouldn’t be able to promise him the level of support I would normally afford a paddling partner.
We slid into the water and it was full on guerilla boating all the way down to the beaver flow. The next few rapids were all straightforward wave trains down to the 119 bridge. The “boof” rock was gone and there was no evidence of a ledge; just a big wave that fed into the right tunnel. We had neglected to scout the exit of the tunnel and the hole there was formidable. I was able to just barely claw my way out and I turned to see Steve in his “Y” get nearly backendered back into the hole. The next drop was completely washed out and it was textbook Nealy through the “doldrums” all the way to Triple Drop. We got out left, well above the first diagonal ledge and hiked down through the woods. The ledge was not even there; it was just a wave with water flowing into the woods on river right. Looking downstream it was a maelstrom of white all the way to the horizon lines. Okay, I announced, I’m walking on river left all the way to below the falls and started hiking. I wasn’t about to discuss lines or what ifs, and Steve, reluctantly (?), followed me as I grabbed my boat and started walking. I remember Steve being quiet as we stumbled through the swamp and entered the woods above the falls. But then I looked down and saw a beaver walking along the creek bank parallel with us. He didn’t even bolt, just kept walking downstream and I said to Steve, “See!? If the beavers are walking, so should we!”
We put in below the falls and paddled down stream; you can imagine how fast we were at the lead-in to Wildchild. There was no eddy on the left so we pulled over on the right, which turned out to be all swamp. Looking downstream the only viable eddy was the one just above the footbridge drop on river right. The water was big, but just big waves down a steep gradient until it went under the bridge and then made that abrupt left turn and over the falls. I peeled out and started down. Immediately I realized that this was not good… it did not feel right. I started cranking hard with every stroke and fortunately I hit every stroke with full power. I was completely focused on that eddy and I just barely made it. My nerves were frazzled once I was safely in the eddy and I turned around to look for Steve as I watched him go by the eddy and under the bridge. His eyes were the size of saucers.
Expletives. I was scrambling to get out of my boat. Grabbing my rope, I ran up the bank and across the trail to where I found Steve clutching the rock outcropping on the right with the stern of his boat still in the current. He had just narrowly avoided being funneled into the overflow creek that was now making the height of land between Wildchild and the Slide an island. Water piled up on the rock ledge and boiled over the falls. Steve clambered out of his boat and we hung out a bit scouting the falls and slide. Eventually we decided this would be a good place to end the day.