Daugherty Creek was certainly an epic weekend. We were blessed with unseasonably warm winter temperatures, which made the adventure easily endured. One week later, and the spooky warm weather that cast its spell over much of the eastern seaboard, suddenly vanished. Temperatures dropped dramatically, providing the first snow of the season, and a gentle reminder that the earth still remains a swiftly tilting planet, whirling through a vacuum of darkness, whose temperatures may be influenced by our feable attempts to cling to existence, but ultimately still succumbs to the mighty irradiance of the sun and its own tilted personality.
One of my closest friends decided to come for a visit on Saturday. We spoke of kayaking in western lands, however ultimately decided the lion's cold breath was too much a risk. We opted to stay near home, and perhaps enjoy an afternoon romp on the Dickerson whitewater course, formerly the main training grounds for the United States olympic paddling team. The process of gaining access to Dickerson without a blue card seemed possible, I was aware of a hidden back entrance through wooded trail, but ultimately unworth the trouble. We decided to go have just a look instead and postpone the boating suare to another date.
I visited Dickerson once before while hiking nearby Sugarloaf Mountain. Its difficulty varies with flow, and adjusts with the power demands of nearby cities and suburbia. The coal fired power plant uses the dammed water from the Potomac as a coolant, discharging the water in the whitewater course an improved warmer version, much to the chagrin of wintertime paddlers.
Mark was impressed with the course and excited about the possibilities of paddling there in the future. We intend on obtaining blue cards and we were lucky enough to watch paddling friends, Maggie Snowell and Scott Anderson, have a run through the course test, catching eddies and performing the necessary role maneuvers. It is a pleasant addition to the new myriad of paddling opportunities I am quickly discovering in the greater Washington region.
Following our stint at the whitewater course, we traveled to the local climbing gym to have a go. It was great to hang out with an old friend. Mark and I were consistent paddling buddies for an entire year and as a result formed a wonderful friendship. We continue to paddle together, time and weather permitting, as often as possible. As a duo, we are safety concious, but also ambitious in our paddling goals. His conversation and company is hard to rival. We enjoyed ourselves at the climbing gym and I was pleased to finally notice an appreciable improvement in my climbing and bouldering skill. I finally have a bit of finger strenghth and my ability to read the climb and movement is better.
The true highlight of our day actually took place in the morning. Mark arrived around eight and I proceeded to show him my recently acquired volume of paddling films. Shannon had yet to venture out on the ropes course and zip line in our backyard and Mark was intrigued by the idea. We geared up and wandered out back for a few hours worth of entertainment, dangling by a few ropes suspended fifty feet in the air. The air was cold and the sky was deep blue. My fingers lost their agility quickly as I fumbled to secure carabiners and ensure that Mark was locked safely to the main line. In order to get to the main tower, you must traverse fifty feet of suspened wire, connected by your carabiner, shuffling your feet one after another, while the wire dips lazily and shakes in violent winds. We followed one another across, slowly, but surely making our way to the wooden platform shifting around like a buoy lost at sea. Once atop the safety of the tower, I proceeded to attach the pulley system to the central steel line that traveled two hundred meters into the distance, through a valley of trees, all the while making a mockery of gravity.
The scariest part of the whole operation is actually attaching the pulley system to the cold steel wire. The platform is barely wide enough for two people to stand. Mark was safely clipped to the same wire that supported him through his first traverse, while I reclipped myself to a steel loop firmly embedded in the sinewy tissue of tree. There exists a bolt two feet away from the wooden platform, quietly seated within the string of the main line. In order to attach the pulley, one must trust in the rope that connects them to the traee, lean over the edge of the wooden platform, and place the pulley system over the steel cable beyond the pesky bolt. Once the pulley is over the steel wire, one must hold the pulley in their left hand while clipping a carabiner through the hoop of the pulley, ultimately connecting to their climbing harness, all the while dangling fifty feet above very hard frozen ground, while the tree shakes violently.
I was able to attach the carabiner without any problems. Shorty thereafter, Mark was on his way, sliding through the valley of trees below. We each took several turns, and collectively came up with a good system for transporting for unhooking each other and transporting the pulley back to the platform.
It was a great day, and the weekend was not quite over... a storm lurked on the horizon.
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