Swimming Sucks!!!!
Last fall I was invited by Teva to be a judge for a grant called LIFE AGENTS. In a nutshell it is a $10,000 GRANT designed to help people follow their dreams. It is an incredible opportunity and I would love to see a paddler win. Anyway while filming for the website I was asked several questions ranging from my proudest accomplishments, fondest travel memories, scariest experience on the river, etc etc. Well the one Teva chose to put on the website was my scariest swim. You can check it out below.
Swim stories are always a favorite around the campfire and I’d like to hear about some of yours. Post them in the comments and the best story will receive a free two hour ‘Your Gonna Eat That’ DVD. To prime the pump below is teaser of The Shred Ready Beat Down segment premiering tomorrow in Asheville. See you there!
A sneak peak at the LVM 33 Carnage Segment.
March 24th, 2010 at 11:53 am
I swam on the Tellico once when I got caught up in a tree above Baby Falls. Washed over baby falls and then the next rapid. The only person there was my 14 year old son who managed to get me back to the roadside. He thought it was awesome and paddles all the time now. I haven’t been back to the Tellico!
March 24th, 2010 at 12:24 pm
I think Will and Grace know about one of my worst swims/beatdowns. They were there. Will even joined me in the water. For those of you who don’t, It was the Taos Box. Long, long, long time upside down and then simul-swimming with Will towards shore. Scary times…
March 24th, 2010 at 12:36 pm
Hot dog, one more chance to recycle this old story.
http://www.americanwhitewater.org/content/Journal/show-page/issue/2/year/1992/page/36/
March 24th, 2010 at 12:55 pm
Well, here is my shot at recounting the best of the best swim stories. This episode unfolded on the first afternoon of this years moosefest, and on my own first ever run down the river. The majority of the run was clean, beautiful weather, good lines, lots of smiles. I was paddling with a number of other kids from the University of Vermont Kayak Club, and the day was a blast, until the last rapid, and then it got better.
I had been having a splendid day, and as we scouted the two sides of Magilla, I decided to step it up, go for the meat, and run the river left line. On top of that I decided to run the left center line as opposed the far left, which I had seen the majority of boaters run. The center…just looked more fun. I walked back upriver, cinched my backband down tight, slid down the damn, and headed for the drop. I discovered very shortly that I had underestimated the strength of a whole which was at the center of my line, a short ways above the drop. My mistake became apparent about 45 seconds into my trashing, when after a few roles, I lost my paddle.
With what I remember as being a feeling of some regret, I pulled my skirt and got ready to swim the drop. I was comforted by seeing a friend, with infinitely more knowledge and wisdom than I, giddily dancing on the side of the drop as he watched the carnage unfold. At least he didn’t seem to be worried. My mind went right back to one of the very first things I had been told about swimming whitewater… feet first, nose and toes out of the water. I figured that applied to swimming over waterfalls onto pitted rocks as well. I felt time and water pull me rapidly towards the inevitable, and held my breath. I saw the horizon line and then I plunged deep. My legs crumpled beneath me and I felt my self hurtling across the bottom, and then, moments later with a grateful gasp, emerging at the surface.
My personal first descent of the moose ended with a story to remember. No injuries, only very sore legs. The drop had shredded off the bottoms of my drypants below the knee, and torn up my fleecies, but it was club gear anyway so no worries.
If perhaps you find my story long winded, the video may tell it better.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnhvkIOQXw0
Danny
March 24th, 2010 at 1:56 pm
Holy @&$)!!!!!!! Glad you are ok, that is an intimate experience!
March 24th, 2010 at 9:49 pm
Fish Ladder, Great Falls of the Potomac 3.25’
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Some days you enjoy the show, some days you are the show. Today, I was on stage for what looked to be a tragedy.
It was a perfect sunny summer afternoon. Tim and I met at Great Falls Park, Maryland at 3 o’clock to paddle the fish ladder and to take another look at the back channel. We had paddled this stretch the week before and were anticipating a fun filled afternoon.
Strangely, I had an unsettled feeling after leaving the house about boating. There was nothing particular about the way I felt, but it was there nonetheless. The feeling was still with me when I arrived at the park. I coaxed Tim into throwing the frisbee around for a few minutes as I tried to mentally get into a groove. Tim was anxious to get on the water and we soon started the walk down to the put-in.
We opted to forgo scouting any of the slides since we had paddled them the week before. Paddling down to the first of the slides I wrestled with the sense of unease that I felt. Fear can be a real bitch, but this wasn’t fear so much as something else. I would soon realize that I was experiencing a premonition.
The fish ladder is an unnatural waterway that was created at the turn of the last century. The Corp of Engineers created a series of five slides along a natural side channel to bypass the falls proper. Today, the fish ladder presents a wonderful whitewater course of big slides and pushy water in a small canyon setting. There are some downsides to the man-made watercourse. Firstly, the surface of each of the slides is an eroded mix of concrete, rebar, and large diameter, course gravel. The holes at the base of each of the slides are large stoppers that require a leap of faith and plenty of momentum to blast through. Finally, the fish ladder drops approximately eighty vertical feet in a quarter of a mile creating a continuous ribbon of whitewater with only a few small eddies to be found along its course. While the man made hazards have often been a topic of discussion, they had not come into play on any of our previous trips.
Now, back to the first slide. We had noticed that there was more water in the river today than there had been the previous week. Not much more, but perhaps a couple of inches on the wider area above the slides which relates to an exaggerated increase in the small confines of the canyon. In an effort to rid myself of the “odd” feelings, I ran the slide first in an effort of get into some sort of rhythm. Cresting the top of the rapid I quickly realized that there was much more water than I had anticipated. I charged down the smooth surface of the slide aiming for the slight break just to the right center of the hole. The force of the impact staggers you, your vision momentarily blocked out in a storm of whitewater. You reach forward with a paddle stroke to pull your self through the maelstrom. The entire sequence last seconds, but it is what we live for.
Tim went first at the second slide and I followed right behind him. The hole at the bottom differs from the first in that its ramps up at the center of the hole offering a ski jump of sorts. The water immediately behind the hole is quite squirrelly as it surges off the left wall and a recirculating eddy on the right feeds back into the hole. Directly below the second slide a small side channel confluences with the main channel and then splits again going down the Back Channel on the right and the rest of the Fish Ladder proper of the left.
I eddied out above the third slide as Tim peered down into the Back Channel from a small eddy at the split. (He had run this section for the first time the week before.) A pedestrian bridge crosses the Fish Ladder at this point, crossing several islands ultimately ending at the Great Falls overlook. It is not uncommon to have a large throng of people watching from overhead and today was no exception.
The third slide is the crux of the canyon and while it is relatively straight forward, it also holds the greatest dangers. The hole at the bottom of the slide forms a large “V” with most of the outflow burrowing into the base of the canyon wall on the left. The right side of the canyon is the island that divides the fish ladder from the back canyon. A quarter of the flow from the third slide pours over an unrunnable twelve foot waterfall into the back channel. Much of the water that flows through this waterfall comes from a river right eddy that reaches twenty feet downstream to the edge of the next drop. The eddy surges back upstream with great swiftness. The difficulty with this drop is you need to be on the right side of the hole at the bottom, but not so far right that you get pushed into the flow going over the waterfall. Immediately below is a short boulder stretch and then the top of the fourth slide. My previous run down this stretch of water found me at the edge of the twelve foot waterfall frantically back paddling back into the main flow. It was a good scare and likely the reason for my unease on this day.
Tim paddled over into the set up eddy as I got ready to peel out into the current. There were expectant looks on the faces of the people standing on the bridge. It’s funny the things that you notice during moments of clarity. I accelerated down the face of the slide and hit the hole right where I had intended. This time I immediately put in a right stroke past the hole to pull myself away from the flow that turns to the right going down the waterfall. I rocketed into the boulder drop, leaned into the reactionary waves and then crested the top of the fourth slide, accelerated some more, and then plowed my way over the rock pile at the bottom and grabbed the eddy on the left. I had been shot out of a cannon and paddled over a hundred yards in just a couple of seconds. From my vantage point I could see the fourth slide and the boulder drop above that, but I couldn’t see the third slide. You can see the people on the bridge, and how they respond is the indicator of a good run, or an unfortunate one. Tim caught some small eddy’s at the boulder drop and then came tearing down fourth slide.
The fourth slide is typically broken into two parts, the upper and lower slides. The upper slide drops fifteen feet and hits a large outcropping of rock at the bottom of the slide. A small portion of the flow rebounds off the rock face and slides down the lower part on the right. The rest of the flow runs into and over the rocks at the bottom. I once flew four feet out of the water as I ramped off the rocks at the bottom of this slide. However, the rocks have a way of pinning boats on the backside of the pile and it would be a horrible place to flip over. There is a large eddy on the left just after the rock pile. The flow continues in earnest as it turns ninety degrees to the right and drops another ten feet down a twisting slide. There is a high water channel directly below the fourth slide that’s fun when the rest of the fish ladder is too high. Peeling out of the eddy you have to fight your way through the rat’s nest of rocks behind the rock pile and then cross over a jet of water coming down the lower slide. Most of the flow is piling into the bottom left wall where there is a piece of hundred year old rebar pointed upstream just below the water level. At the bottom of the lower slide the back channel confluences again and the canyon make another ninety degree turn to the left. Quick water continues right to the lip of the fifth slide. There is a nice eddy on the right directly above the fifth slide which is a nice place to take a look at the largest of the slides. The horizon line as viewed from your boat is enormous. Dropping thirty feet into the main stem of the Potomac River, the fifth slide is very impressive. There is an exposed aggregate wall that runs the first two thirds of the way down the right side of the slide and there are cross currents bouncing off the walls of the slide creating an explosion of whitewater. Where the other slides have smooth green water cascading down them, the fifth slide is an angry display of the action of water and rock.
You can peel out of the eddy and head straight down the slide, or you can run a five foot drop just to the left of the slide and then peel out onto the slide from the left. The left side boof is a lot of fun and it makes the fifth slide more technical. From the small pool below the boof, you peel out directly onto the slide amid the chaos of crashing waves and currents. Turning the boat downstream, the hole at the bottom arrives in short order delivering a staggering blow. You pull through the first hole to be greeted by a ledge hole immediately below and then you are on the main stem of the Potomac River with the Burmuda Triangle at the confluence of the two flows right in front of you.
From here you start the arduous process of carrying your boat back up to the top for a second run. Be forewarned, the hike from the bottom of the fish ladder to the bottom of the forth slide takes as long as the rest of the hike to the put-in. We typically run from the top down to the bottom of the upper fourth slide and hike back to the put in from there, saving the lower fourth slide and the fifth slide for the last run. It’s easy to carry back up on river right at the fifth slide for multiple runs. You’ll be walking along the exposed aggregate wall that makes up a large portion of the right side of the slide so watch your step.
Tim and I hiked back up to make a second run. We stopped at the bridge to scout the back channel and to appreciate a different view of what we were enjoying. We were still considering a run of the back channel and the extra water today seemed to pad things out more, but not make it any harder. We would hold our decision until we completed a second run of the Fish Ladder.
We switched the order that we were running the drops and Tim went first at the first slide. It looked as if he hit the meat of the hole straight on and was pushed toward the left wall. Some creative paddling pulled him back into the main flow and downstream. I aimed for the same break in the hole that I had the first time, but I was a few inches further left. POW, I hit the hole straight on, water shooting in my sinuses, the boat melted through the wall of water and I cleared the backwash. Definitely a more exciting line. I ran first at the second slide, hitting the jump at the bottom and quickly grabbed the eddy on the left.
Tim went first at the third slide. Disappearing from my view, I could tell that he kept on paddling straight down the fourth slide by the reaction of the onlookers above. While we paddle with our friends, we are alone while sitting at the top of a continuous stretch of whitewater. I turned out of the eddy and angled my boat to break through the right side of the hole, reached forward to put in a right stroke, and there was strangely no hold on the water with my paddle. I flipped upside down and realized that my hands were not positioned where they should be. It dawned on me that I was holding two separate pieces of paddle and I was right at the flow of water that went down the unrunnable waterfall. I let go of the pieces of paddle and reached down and pulled the skirt off my boat. Pushing out of the boat I came up to the surface unsure of where I was. Water was flowing into my face as I swam against the current that was pouring over the waterfall. I felt a rock beneath me and grasped at it, but it was quickly past, I then scampered onto and over a boulder under the surface without getting any purchase. This boulder turned out to be what divides the flow between the unrunnable waterfall and the fourth slide below. When I got beyond the submerged boulder I could see and I reached out to try and grab hold of the wall to my right. My fingers brushed the surface, but there were no hand holds that I could grab and I was quickly pulled downstream. I was then entering the top of the boulder drop which lead directly into the fourth slide and the big rock outcropping below. Water surged up against the right wall, creating the reaction waves of the boulder drop. I somehow swam up in this surge and grabbed hold of a crack in the rock, my feet dangling in the main flow of the drop and pulled myself out of the water. All of this took place in the span of a couple of seconds, but from my vantage point it took an enternity. I was safe, but now straded on an island with the fish ladder on one side and the back channel on the other. But, I was safe.
I looked up at the crowd on the bridge and gave them a sign that I was alright. The last thing I wanted was to get the Park Service involved. I quickly climbed up the rock I was on and made eye contact with Tim in the eddy far below. I motioned that my paddle had snapped in two and he indicated that he had one of the pieces. I looked around to see if I could see my boat and the people on the bridge pointed that it had gone over the waterfall. We had been involved in a rescue on the Back Channel the week before and Tim started making his way across the canyon so he could help me get off the island. I worked my way down to the end of the island at the bottom of the lower portion of the fourth slide. I looked upstream into the Back Channel and there was my boat getting surfed in a hole not ten feet from where I was. I was able to climb down the canyon wall and grab hold of my boat while keeping one hand on the gorge wall. I retrieved the throw rope from the cockpit and attached it to the boat.
Tim pulled my newly dented boat across the small pool at the end of the back channel. I was still on the island and we decided the best course of action would be for Tim to assist me across the river by having me hold onto the back of his boat. With Tim furiously paddling and me kicking we made our way to the opposite shore. At this point the adrenaline from the accident wore off and a profound fatigue settled in. We were both very somber as we reflected upon what has just happened. I realize that luck played a large part in my avoiding what would have been a grave situation.
All told things couldn’t have worked out any better, other than not having happened at all. Tim even found my sponge in the eddy at the bottom of the fourth slide. I did lose my throw rope during the boat recovery, and my boat has a large dent in the bow and a deep indentation (scratch) in the hull. I’m pretty sure that the boat will recover. In terms of the paddle….well, I’m not sure what to think. The paddle seems to have separated on just the force of hitting the hole at the bottom of the third slide. It was only four months old and was damage free prior to the accident. It was a horrific moment realizing that I was without a paddle, upside down, and in danger of washing through one of two dangerous rapids. This was by far the most compromising swim I have had.
We walked over the bridge after climbing out of the gorge and looked down at the scene of the incident. When I saw what I had been able to do, it didn’t seem possible. In retrospect, I now know that the unsettled feeling that I had felt had merit.
Post Script: Twenty-four hours after the fact the dents in the bow and bottom of my boat popped out after an afternoon of sitting in the sun.
March 25th, 2010 at 10:09 am
That is a great story John, we know the exact spot you are talking about!
March 25th, 2010 at 5:23 pm
January 2009 brought a lot of paddling opportunities to the South east and I was spending a good deal of time in the boat that year. So much in fact that when the boys called one Sunday morning to let me know White Top Laurel Creek in SW VA was running, my wife gave me that look. You know the one… “you’re going boating AGAIN?”. Seeing the look I decided that I was going to forgo the run and stay at home and spend the day with the family. My lovely wife knows me all too well and knew that if I didn’t go I’d probably be a miserable bastard all day, so she shoved me out the door with gear in toe.
I lead into the story with that because I contribute some of what turned out to be the worst day on the water to me to that point, to being distracted by guilt.
We hit the water with some old friends and with some folks I was paddling with for the first time. The run started out pretty uneventful and we made our way down some pretty standard class III boogie. The level was pretty high for this particular run; in fact it was the highest level in which I had ever run this particular section. We came to the first significant rapid on this run, the Slot. The Slot, a class IV, is a 10 foot drop with a lead-in which requires riding a green tongue into a seam of two diagonal waves. To the right of the line in the Slot is a sieved out boulder jumble which has always appeared to me to be the most serious potential consequence on the entire run. Coming into the rapid I dropped into the seam and was flipped by the multi-directional raging water. I attempted to roll up but was unsuccessful in my attempt, later I realized that I had broken my paddle and looking back I’m not sure if that happened before or after the swim. After missing the roll I was flushed into the sieved out section on river right. I could feel the water crashing on top of my upside-down boat and realized that I had flushed into the sieve. I pulled the skirt and flushed out of my boat. The water pouring into the hole of rocks kept me submerged for what felt like an eternity, I remember feeling around trying to find something to grab onto or a hole to swim out of, but all I could find was smooth faced rocks. Finally I must have gotten pushed into just the right spot of the jumble because the water shot both me and the boat out and over the rocks. I went over about an 8 to 10 foot drop but was just glad to see daylight. But wait that’s not the end of the story…
As I am sure you can imagine, at this point I was visibly shaken and any game I had beginning the day was gone. Nonetheless, the group chased down my boat and I borrowed a breakdown paddle and our group continued down the river. The next few miles went off without a hitch. We eddied out and prepared to go through a small drop that leads into a fairly substantial ledge hole. I had run this thing a dozen times, albeit at lower flows, and never even had an inkling of a problem… well that was all about to change. Our lead, Jason who happened to be wearing a helmet cam, went first and I followed behind. In retrospect I realize I was lazy paddling and basically just dropped into the hole at the bottom of the ledge. I began to get worked in the hole and window shaded a few times before ultimately running out of air and deciding to punch out of the boat. I totally expected to go deep in the hole and just flush down stream, but that ain’t what happened. My boat flushed out, but the hole held me like a baby in momma’s arms, except it was trying to kill me. I tried to swim out the corners and when that didn’t work I tried to get upstream into the flow hoping it would push me down and out but I was just so out of control. I was essentially flush drowning in the hole; my head would pop up momentarily, but every time I’d attempt to take in a breath of air all I’d get was a lung full of water. My vision started going black and I had pretty much come to terms that this was the place I was going to die. Just when I was about to give up even trying to swim out, I just happened to feel something fall into my hand; it was Jason’s rope. I squeezed my hand shut with all the strength I could muster, which was just barely enough to hold onto the rope, and felt myself pulled to shore. I have never been so exhausted in my entire life. It took me about 30 minute to regroup physically and mentally before getting back in the boat to finish the last 5 or 6 miles to the takeout.
I learned some very important lessons that day. I don’t ever take any rapids lightly anymore, and I won’t ever leave home to go paddling with tension in the air, and one of the most important lessons was how important it is to have the appropriate safety gear (namely a rope) and to paddle with people you can count on in a pinch to be able to react to save your ass if necessary.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lJ4arKco50