Edging the Current

On Labor Day Weekend 2008 my boyfriend Dave and I attended a 2 day beginner’s whitewater kayaking clinic at the Nantahala Outdoor Center (www.noc.com). It was his second time, he’d done the same clinic last year long before we met. For me, the closest I’d been to a kayak had been to wonderingly watch them flit and glide and spin all over the river when we rafted the Ocoee last month. Compared to the lumbering rafts the kayaks were like beautiful dragonflys, skating through the current with grace and speed.

Of course I wasn’t naive enough to presume that I’d jump right in and start flitting anywhere, but you can only start at the beginning, so on August 30, 2008 I sat in a kayak for the first time. A Dagger Mamba 8.0 to be exact. It was quite sexy, with a big snakehead on the back deck. I was suprised at how comfortable it was initially. Our instructor, Rob Barham, was a tall tree of a man with the patience of one who listens to rivers a lot. We’d lucked out in that we were the only ones to have signed up for the clinic so we ended up with 2 days of private instruction. I think we would have been fine with the group but it was really reassuring to have him to ourselves, to never feel pressured to keep up or worried that we were rushing someone else.

After two days of paddling around Lake Fontana and on an easy stretch (although there was some Class II whitewater) of the Nantahala (well above the falls) I was exhausted and sore all over from using muscles that were a bit creaky and previously underutilized. Kayaking is truly a whole body sport. Although upper body strength is certainly helpful, you really need to use your whole lower body in concert with the boat and the water to be effective.

I took one whitewater swim after flipping and bailing and got some nice chunky bruises on my legs from the unforgiving rocks under the current. I was certain I’d been upside and not breathing for at least 5 minutes before I made the decision to wet exit but Rob and Dave both confirmed that it was more like 10 seconds. It’s amazing. No matter how comfortable you can get with the concept of “hanging out” upside down and underwater on a still lake all the sensations change just enough on a moving river to engage all those freak out reactions. Swimming in white water is hard, I’ve always considered myself a strong swimmer but coupled with a lot of gear, very fast and cold water, and the aforementioned rocks moving 6 inches across the current feels like a mile. But I made it into an eddy and back into my boat (which was gallantly rescued, along with my paddle, by the intrepid and unflappable Rob).

From there on out I was determined to, at the very least, make like a duck. There were lots of ducks on the river, and while sometimes they looked more goofy than graceful they never ended up upside down by accident. They just bob and float and bounce along with the current with total aplomb, carrying on their little duckie lives.

For the most part I managed to at least make like a duck. Sometimes having no real control over my direction, somtimes sliding down some rapids backwards, but at the very least staying upright, learning to move my hips WITH the water instead of against it. Until a really embarrasing freak out on Sunday, in an eddy no less, when I got knocked over by a branch and completely forgot which way was up. Of course that time I didn’t have to swim since I was practically on the bank already. I just had to stand up and hope that no one noticed (which I believe they probably did since it must have looked pretty darn silly).

At the end of the day we opted not to attempt Nantahala Falls, a class III rapid. We’ll save it for next time. I was bone deep tired and had started forgetting some of the basics as my muscles rebelled against remembering all the new combinations of movement and balance. I figured it was better to end on a pretty strong note than to end with a potentially very scary wipe out (I’m sure the specatators were disappointed!).

We’re heading to roll practice at Stone Mountain Lake with the Atlanta Whitewater Club next Wednesday and my next trip to Nantahala is in the works I hope. For all the sore muscles and the few moments of feeling scared I also expereinced an extraordinary and much welcome focus and peace on the river that has been missing from my chaotic life for the past few years. I’m a do-er. I tend to attack a problem first, reason it out after. I often find myself needlessly fighting forces in my life that could better be finessed. On the river I felt I was learning something more than simple boating skills. Water is life, and I’m ready to learn to move with it instead of against it.