Winter finally broke, and with a few good rainstorms the water in West Virginia provided a great welcome to warmer months. It was my birthday, and I was determined to celebrate where I feel most at home, on the river.Ian was back from Chile, with some great stories, and a proclamation that he was currently as nowhere as he could be, so we jumped in his Subaru on Thursday afternoon and headed to the river. We caught a quick run on the Big Sandy on the lower side of good, but had a great time, and enjoyed the fact that we had two more full days of boating ahead. On Thursday afternoon, we met two guys from upstate New York, Adam and Matt, who were traveling around on a paddling trip during spring break. They gave Ian a ride back to our car, thus allowing me to avoid the arduous five mile uphill mountain bike out of Cheat Canyon.
I stayed at the take-out, watched our gear, and collected some firewood to build a fire. There were a few locals building a big one down by the river when we took out, and as the sun began to set, I contemplated wandering down to share the warmth. They decided to leave before I could ask them to leave the fire going, but they said if I hurried there might be a few hot coals left. I ran down with some dry wood and pushed the sand around to find a decent pile of burning embers. I added some dry tinder, and in about ten minutes had rebuilt a great fire. Ian and our new found friends arrived a few minutes later with beer. We sat by the river under a clear sky, cooked dinner, and enjoyed the brew. It was a great night.
In the morning, we threw our boats on one car and headed to the put-in. Ian and I were excited to show the boys from New York the Big Sandy. The water level rose a little bit over night, with a few small passing rainshowers. I was starting to feel more like myself again on the river, simply enjoying the scenery, and the quality boating, and not fixating so much on each and every rapid. Over the past year it seems I have suffered from several bad cases of the tweaks on several different rivers, often for no real reason at all. One case of the tweaks leads to the next, and before you know it, they can be hard to shake. You are staring down the chaotic abyss of class three water with your tail between your legs, willing to claw your way out of a rhodendron infested, one thousand foot deep gorge, with your sixty pound boat on your shoulder for miles, rather than face the utter terror of the tiny rock on far river left, that you are convinced is the harbringer of death. The tweaks are not pleasant, but on this particular day out on the Sandy, I was beginning to feel a release from their tempestous grip on my cerebrum.
We portaged Big Splat again, although at a higher water level, looked much more manageable than the day before. Wonder Falls were great and we carried back up for multiple laps. Second Island is always fun, especially as you squeak past the boulder on river left. After another great run, we headed to a pizza joint near deep creek. We decided to camp at the take-out again, and Billy and the rest of the crew were meeting us there. Billy was impatiently waiting for over an hour by the time we got to the take-out... we took a few wrong turns in our search for dinner that evening. Curt, Scott and Tyler arrived a bit later and we constructed a huge tent city. I was beat and hit the sack pretty early, while the rest of the crew raged on into the wee hours of the morning, occasionally shaking the tent and yelling my name in slurred speech.
The next morning Travis Overstreet and a large crew of boys from southern Virginia arrived to meet us for another run down the Sandy. We ran about twelve deep on Saturday, and although we were moving a bit slower, it was great to be out with such a big group. I had not seen Travis in months, and it was awesome to get the chance to boat with him.
Travis and Crew took off to Friendsville, while the rest of us headed to Piney Mountain to camp. We were hoping for some sun and warmth the next day, but we woke up to snow and frozen ground. Scott, Tyler and Curt stayed to boat the Upper Yough, but Billy, Ian and I called it a trip and headed back east.
Two weekends later I found myself in the back of John Haddock's Jimmy, headed to the Sandy yet again, this time minus Ian, but plus Dan Macguire. We enjoyed a great water level, and watched Dan fire up Big Splat his first time down with a great line. We made our ceremonial stop at the Banana Leaf on the way home for some Thai food.
Curt leaves in a few short weeks to head out west to raft guide for the summer. Ian is in West Virginia teaching kids how to get into trouble. Billy is currently enjoying his work with wind developers, and Johnny Haddock is still drowning in a sea of numbers looking for his stapler. It seems we will all get our wish and wander out west together this summer for a grand misadventure. The next few weeks will include a lot of play on the Potomac and with any luck some Virginia lines.
I will be sitting on the banks of Oh Be Joyful and camping beneath the Aspen trees in a short while...
