After a long absence, I finally returned to the old familiar confines of my red Prijon Embudo yesterday. It poured on Thursday night in West Virginia, and most of the mid-Atlantic. Boating was epic on Friday, but I was trapped at work. Almost everything in West Virginia remained in the blue through Friday evening, besides a few drainages that run once in a blue moon. One of those was Seneca Creek. After hearing stories about runs on Paul's Creek and the North Fork of the Tye on Friday, I was ready for action. Busily making phone calls throughout the day on Friday, I began to devise a scheme to run Seneca, a remote wilderness run in West Virginia. It looked like everything was a go, until I received a phone call late Friday night with disappointing beta. Seneca was snowed in with three feet still on the ground. There is a hefty hike in, and a few local made an attempt to make it out, but to no avail. The snow was too deep.
Scrambling to find a new plan and consulting with Billy Armstrong and Scott Anderson, we decided to head south and see if we could catch what little water might be left in the North Fork of the Tye in Nelson County, Virginia. The weather was forecast to be sunny and in the upper 50's, sounding much more appetizing than thirty and snowing in West Virginia.
Our decision proved to be a great one. We had epic conditions of beautiful sunny weather, warm temperatures, and enough water to get us down river. Billy boated the North Fork many times before and cheerily provided the beta as we made our way south. On the way there, we stopped at the Moormans river near the Shenandoah National Park to check on a small steep tributary that flows out of the mountains. It was not running, but the prospect of a run in the future generated a lot of excitement. We pressed on to the North Fork.
Hanging a right at Evergreen Church, the North Fork looked a bit bony and for a minute, we thought we might get skunked. As we made our way up the gravel road we passed local, Harris Haynie, making his way down after a morning run. Harris and Gordon, two locals are responsible for pioneering most all of the creeks in the Nelson area. He said it was good, and with encouragement we made our way to the put in.
The scenery is spectacular. The sunlight was golden and slowly sifted its way throught the dormant branches of oak, maple and sycamore lining the banks of the river. The waters tumbled over the river bed in a perfectly transparent dance of energy and silence, rocks being calmly molded through years of perpetuity. A small wooden bridge of rough hewn post wood spanned the distance of a small tributary, an entry way to a small mountain cabin, quietly perched on the hillside with woodsmoke lilting out of its stone chimney. To the left, lay the middle reaches of the North Fork, and beyond Adrenaline Alley, a steep expanse of granitic slides, potholes, and cauldrons of bubbling foam.
We geared up in the moring sun and pulled our boats to the side of the river. Awkwardly, I slid my body into the cocoon of red plastic. I find it ever amazing that in absence from my kayak for long durations, I must go through a process of reconnection before feeling comfortable on the water again. Pressing forward into the current, immediately I feel the smooth sensation of water carrying me along with a stylistic grace that characterizes the nature of each river. I catch a few eddies and we go, under the wooden bridge and to destinations unknown.
The first main rapid is known as Cushion, a three tiered drop with multiple lines. We traveled each option, running the rapid twice. A boof through a narrow slot into a calm pool led to a mushroom rock dropping another five feet, ending in a freight train of water barreling toward a launch pad to finish up. The next run, a hard right angle boofing into an oncoming rock, a calm pool, through a narrow slot nearly missing a boat munching sieve, and once again ending with a sweet launch pad. All was well.
We continued on with grins stretching from ear to ear. We proclaimed our joy and reveled in our good fortune for catching such a gorgeous run on a beautiful day. The next rapid soon arrived, Entrance. Entrance is a tight boat width slot leading one through a short cavernous ten feet with undercut boulders on both sides. I was not yet feeling a solid partnership with river and boat and forewent the experience. Billy followed my lead, and Scott decided to fire it up,while we set safety. Scott stuck a nice line, making it look much more friendly than the looming boulders suggested. On we went, playing the occasional bumper boats with unsuspecting rocks out to pin, piton, and torment.
The river narrowed and a horizon line approached. A tall wall of granite loomed to the left, and a massive house sized boulder on the right, while in front lay the lip of one the greatest river treasures I had yet to unearth, 'Glide'.
Glide is a magic carpet ride, providing a sensation of euphoria, with a three to four foot boof into a calm pool. The sunlight was intense and lit up the scene like a magic show, an ephemeral, otherworldy odditity between the brink of bedrock and sky. We ran the line multiple times. I would happily have exited the river at this point, knowing full well our journey was more than worth it.
One hundred feet downstream, lurked 'Boof Right', and our closest call of the day. Once again, Scott decided to fire up the line, a boof between two large boulders with little room for error. I set safety. He was thrown off line by an unsuspecting rock and thrown sideways and upside down against the two boulders. I reached out to grab him, but he was quickly jostled free.
Paksaw came next. One of the more ugly looking rapids I have seen, the main flow dropped through wall of boulders with a large piton rock lurking in the middle of the flow at the base of the drop. It seemed almost certain that you would hit this rock in some fashion if choosing to run the rapid, and we were unsure how undercut it might be. Shouldering our boats, we chose to forego potential massive internal injuries or death, and headed to 'Marbles'.
Not to sound like a broken record, but 'Marbles' is riddled with undercut boulders throughout and a terrible sieve in the outflow. The line looked runnable, but once again, in such a long absence from my boat, I chose to forego potential disaster and headed down to run 'Monkey'. Scott fired it up with no issues.
We all ran 'Monkey'. Scott and Billy ran a narrow slide, over a jumbled pile of boulders, while I chose to be more heroic and spank the 'Monkey' with a boof over utterly dry rock. I dried out, threw my paddle, pushed myself off the five foot drop, pitoned into a large boulder, and pulled out of my boat escaping my humorous vertical pin. Instead of spanking the 'Monkey', the 'Monkey' bit me in my ass.
'S-turn' and 'Gnat' were fun, although I am not sure exactly where they were, but we took out downstream, hid our boats and began the hike back to the Jeep. The sun dipped behind the north side of the mountain and it was a bit cold. I was happy to get back to the car and get a little food into my system and warm up my frozen hands.
The North Fork of the Tye is a magical river with some intense drops. I look forward to seeing it with a bit more water and a bit more prepared. I boated without nose plugs, (my kayaking pacifier, they just make me feel more confident), a paddle with a large shark bite out of the right blade and a leaky dry top. We traveled home tired and happy, our conversation consisting of serious plans to place a mattress in the crack of a drop on the steep stretch of tributary flowing into the Moormans, and buying snowshoes, so attempts to boat rivers snowed in would never again be foiled and we could be hailed as the conquistadores of boating in epically terrible weather conditions. Until next time... 