Ratt Report–Days 1 and 2    Ratt Report–Days 5 and 6

Unfortunately, in the chaos of getting kicked out of the Noli Campground, I missed the opportunity to join an RBP dinner in Asheville with Chris Bell, Hugh Kelly, Wilko, Kanubi, and others. Sorry, guys, for blowing my line there!
For Saturday’s paddling, we split into three groups. The bulk of the Keel-haulers hit Section III; the Rons (Tomallo and Whitney), David and his friend Matt Hopkins, and Barry Addams, Wayne Carey, and Erin Bethea ran the Tallulah; Greg, Dave, Paul Lang, Rick Teague, Cheetah, and I hit Section IV at 2.2 feet.

Greg runs Bull Sluice

My personal experience deals with Section IV, which none of us, except Cheetah, had seen in a year. Rick was a first-timer. After taking the lead at Seven-Foot Falls, I sat in the eddy right below the drop and got a couple of good photos: one of Paul with a decent boof, and the other of Greg practically in mid-air. If you have a cheapo Kodak throwaway camera, you’d better be in a good position to take the picture. I was in position for Greg to come down on top of me in the eddy.

<-Paul Greg->

I had never run Crack without sneaking far to the right, and that’s where Charlene, Rick, and I each went. It’s fairly tame, but not without its sneer if you’re not careful. I parked below Crack and watched Paul, Greg, and Dave run it. Dang, I could’ve had that line. Then there was a flurry of activity among the rafters’ safety guys. Charlene was pinned in the sneak channel.

Dave Becker boofs Right Crack.

By the time I got there, she was safely on the rock. Good thing, because her boat was still lodged in an ugly two-point rock broach, cockpit down. (She said that, as she set up to roll, the water sucked her out of her boat!) Rick came along and boofed over the bottom of her boat as I was trying to dislodge her paddle from the undercut. I got it to her and then rolled next to the undercut. Her boat came free, and we continued.

When we got to Tallulah Fest, we found that Ron Tomallo had had some difficulties. Apparently, he’d re-injured his ribs during his run of Oceana. A couple of rapids later, he’d found that he couldn’t continue. Recon Ron, David, and Matt leapfrogged down the rapids in the four boats (their own and Ron’s) and then took turns towing his boat out. When they got back to the Fest site, Ron T. still hadn’t arrived, so Recon Ron went into the gorge after him. They emerged after 5 PM, long after the water had been turned off.

So let’s count this up: Ron Whitney ran the river, re-running many rapids in various boats not his own. In addition to carrying his boat down 890 stairs (what’s that: 70-80 stories?) at the put-in, he descended and ascended these same steps again, as well as hiking in a difficult gorge while looking for Ron T. He could’ve been forgiven for taking Sunday off, but that ain’t his style.

We had 9 permit slots, and only 5 wishing to use them. From last year’s crew, Syd, Chuck, Scott, and John all declined. The five who were rarin’ were: Your Intrepid Reporter, Recon Ron (who’d been given a Special Dispensation by Sue to go have fun on the T again; on this day, the Tallulah on Easter Sunday, Recon Ron earned a historic 100th Ratt Point), Dave Becker, Greg Lewis, and Rob Hammond. At the putin field, we ran into Green Narrows Guru Leland Davis and offered him a slot, which he readily accepted. A friend of his was on the way with a slot for him, but this was his first opportunity to earn a Ratt Point, and he greedily grabbed it. Soon we saw the Paul Langmobile; he apparently decided the fun was worth the 70+-story carry after all! (Or maybe he simply wanted the Ratt Point.) So now we were seven.

I timed the carry this time. It took five minutes on the trail, and almost fifteen on the steps. That’s a bit of a haul, but it’s over quickly. We set up at the putin.

I couldn’t wait to provide amusement for my peers. I set up to seal-launch from a rock about 3 feet up. As I slid down…THUNK! My bow hit a rock, sideways, and it flipped me.

I was upside-down, still on dry land, with my cockpit stuck on a rock. Great. I dropped my paddle, worked off the rock, got wet, and rolled up before you could say “Say Cheeeze!”

When we were mostly assembled in the eddy, we dropped off, one by one, into the Entrance rapid. And this is one river without warmup. Entrance is a pulsating mass of rocks and holes. That is to say, it’s part of the Tallulah Gorge. With a big-ol’ backender, as far as I know I was the only one who got an invertary experience in this rapid. Others were to get their due in the next.

Recon Ron finishing the Boof at the end of the Entrance rapid.

Oceana. What can one say? It’s big, it’s impressive, it’s intimidating. When we ran it last year, nobody had gotten both legs all broke at the Thing. The knowledge of recent, very real, very serious injury tends to make me nervous. Ron ran first, and he was back at the top of the rapid while I was still taking pictures (remember, this is the guy who, by all rights, should’ve been exhausted by the previous day; this guy never ceases to impress). He ran it a second time before I got into my boat.

No turning back! Recon Ron commits to Oceana. Photo by Rob Hammond (most likely).

Oh, dear. He got backendered at the bottom and faceplanted into the rock ledge. Famed hairboater Klay Wright (Whatafall) was tending to him when I came down. I banged my elbow lightly at the Thing, but no big deal. Klay: “I’m convinced that if you have a good line at Oceana, you’re going to hit your elbow.” Next time, remind me to bring elbow pads. I’m happy to report that Head Ratt didn’t try to disengage and swim for it when I slammed him into the Oceana hole. He was clearly getting accustomed to the abuse I heaped on him.

I ran upstream to grab the camera and to take Rob’s picture. I gesticulated madly, trying to stop his committing to the entry. Too late.

It wasn’t quite the line you want.

He got a bit right, touched the Thing, got flipped, and finished the last ten feet in a pose that could save you $500 of dermabrasion treatments. Banged up, he tried to roll in the squirrels below, but no dice. He was surrounded by well-meaning people who just could not get him to shore. He ran the next rapid by his butt and took out on River Right.

I was concerned that, after this experience, Rob would be shot for the rest of the day. Not Rob. He spent a goodly time getting his equilibrium back, but was fine after that. Check him out at Bridal Veil!
Rob Hammond at Bridal Veil

After Bridal Veil, there’s a choice. You can boogie in the center, or you can take a weird long, narrow channel on River Left. Only Dave and I chose the left. The following pictures show him at the beginning of the channel (he’s in there, honest!) and boofing in fine style at the end.

Dave Becker in the channel

Another great rapid at the Tallulah is Tom’s BrainBuster. It’s rocky and shallow; it has a pinning rock and a pourover hole to avoid. Everyone stayed upright, some with better lines than others. Rob managed a good line; Greg kinda found the pourover, staying upright but certainly getting his face wet.

<Rob   Greg>
Just downstream of BrainBuster is the Amphitheater, which contains a beautiful rock face a couple hundred feet up the bank. No picture can do it justice, but when I get around to scanning it, I'll post it here, too.

The only other excitement on our part of this day happened at some rapid which, if it’s named, is nameless to me. Ron and Rob got surfed together in a big-ol’ hole. They were turning twin cartwheels, right next to each other, like there was no tomorrow. I bet they would’ve been loving it if: 1) either of them had been alone in there; and b) it were at all on purpose. As it was…well, Ron got out and rolled up; Rob pulled the ripcord. Recovery of everything was pretty simple, and soon we were heading for the lake.

Last year, Perception sponsored the shuttle for the Tallulah paddlers. This year, it was provided by the town of Tallulah Falls, I believe. The shuttle driver took one look at the egg-sized bump on Rob’s elbow and named exactly where and how it happened. “Ah kin name that trashing in one three-second glance!” he could’ve said. Wayne Carey had his own view of the shuttle: “Don’t you wish Summersville, WV, treated its boaters the same way!” Boy, I guess.

Greg was impressed. I’d told Rob that “everything’s boat-scoutable, except for Oceana and Bridal Veil.” Au cointreau. Except for those two, everything is something that you can boogie your way down; but you’ll have to be reading on the fly, making quick decisions in steep drops. It’s a fun ride not for the faint of heart or for those uncertain of their Class-5 skills.

At Section IV, Keel-haulers provided all sorts of excitement. When Chuck Singer ran the wrong side of Seven-Foot Falls, a bunch followed him like corporate managers (no way is Ratt gonna diss his fellow rodents, the lemming community, with that tired and inaccu-Ratt stereotype), with a small SchwimFest as the result. Luke Thompson and Cheetah gave everyone a show by swimming in the vicinity of Soc-em-Dog (the latter in a brave attempt to save the former). Undaunted and perhaps unenlightened, Cheetah walked back up to run the Doggie. At 2.1’, it grabbed her and held on for real. She swam out with a big-ol’ smile upside her face.

Ratt Report–Days 1 and 2    Ratt Report–Days 5 and 6

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Except as noted, all photos by Riviera Ratt. © 1999 RattTronics. All rights reserved. Please don’t use without permission, or you deserve to piton off a 20-foot drop.