Ratt Report–Days1 and 2    Ratt Report–Days 3 and 4

The game plan today was Section IV, with about fourteen Keel-haulers split into two groups. Shuttle was slightly inefficient, through no fault of Kobak. Many of us, Recon Ron and me included, wanted cars at the takeout for a quick getaway. We got our wish, and with the delays that were to greet us, that was a blessing. (Thanks much to Chuck Singer for giving us shuttle!) Those who wanted to run the Bull put in upstream; those who didn’t, hit the beach downstream. I encouraged Terry Markoff, a Section IV first-timer, to give it a try in his open boat. He watched some of us run the ferry move while others ran what I call the sneak, a straight-shot move over a shallow sloping rockledge into the water below. He went for the latter.

Almost made it, too; flipped in the bottom. He might have made his first combat roll there, but a surface rock complicated matters, so he accepted a bow rescue.

Terry in The Running of The Bull

Raven’s Chute is a fun rapid, and very picturesque. You gotta start way left and take the tongue across, almost to River Right. Kobak’s mad gesticulation from shore made the rapid relatively easy. We got Terry here, not getting a drop in his boat.

Terry running Raven’s Chute

Terry finishing Raven’s Chute

The groups re-coalesced in the Five Falls section. Sue Strumbel had swum in Entrance rapid. John had directed Ron to set safety with a rope at the bottom of Corkscrew, rather than looking for her boat, an RPM. Lost boats always end up just below Crack, or in “Dead Man’s Pool” below Soc’em Dog. Almost always. When we happened on the scene, the boat was nowhere to be found. Sue was walking out, and Ron was searching for her boat.

As far as I could tell, all the Keel-haulers who ran the Five Falls ran Right Crack on this day. At 2.0’, nobody had any trouble.

I ran Jawbone, and saw a separated boat and paddler headed for Soc’em Dog. I tried to give (who I later found out was) Cheetah a tow (a rope had missed her by only a couple of feet), but I was too late and could only watch helplessly as she swam the Doggie for the second day in a row. (“I never was swimming ’til I met you-all!” she later exclaimed.)

Having heard of, and witnessed, Cheetah’s experiences with the Doggie, I couldn’t resist the challenge. I looked at it a looong time, testing the patience of John (“you’d better run it now, if you’re gonna, we’re in the other group and we’ve been waiting long enough!” said Mr. Sensitive), who was standing on the abutting rock with Brent Laubaugh, rope at the ready. Finally I went for it. According to Kobak, my line was fine, but the need was speed. I didn’t quite clear the hole.

The doggie bit. It grabbed my stern, putting me en pointe for a looooong time (I’m estimating 45 minutes). The sky was blue. It was all I could see. When the doggie got bored with that, it shoved my stern downstream, which of course gave my face a good dunking. I felt the chaotic rush of water that is common to getting trashed in nasty holes. I rolled up; still in it. John says they were screaming from the rock. I certainly couldn’t hear them above the Howl of the Pooch. The chaos flipped me again. It felt different. I rolled up again, and found that I was in the squirrelly eddy just to the right. I paddled the hail outta there. The Head Ratt, by the BTW, was still firmly sitting atop my helmet. Either he’d become accustomed to gnarly whitewater, or he knew that if he took off in that spot, the Doggie might really get him.

Recon Ron soon came into view. He’d been searching downstream for Sue’s boat, with no success. Rick, Cheetah, and I joined him, walking upstream as far as Crack in The Rock (recall: this is the same guy who’d had a long day at the Tallulah a couple days before; now he was paddling up and down the flatwater; clambering all over the rocks…this guy is blessed with a ton of energy!), which was roughly the last place it had been seen. No dice, so we paddled out. At the takeout boat ramp, a woman noticed my pet atop my helmet and surmised that I was the Ratt. She introduced herself, RBP’er Beth Thompson. We hugged and spoke a little, even though the day was getting late.

I think of the turtles I saw, sunning themselves on the log as I was paddling on Tugaloo “Lake.” They looked so happy. I think of the guy, a favorite cyber- and long-distance paddling-bud, who sent me a small gift and a poem about turtles. I’d really been looking forward to hanging with this guy again. I wish he could’ve made it to hang and paddle with us, but…circumstances. I tell you, if paddling has given me friends like this guy, then paddling is truly…a Wondrous Gift.

I followed Recon Ron to his uncle’s place in Hendersonville, NC, just a quick hop from the Green Narrows. Calls to the power company had shown that they were releasing 100%, 24 hours per day, so we’d have plenty of scheduling options. As well as Joey Baranski, who’d led Ron down twice and me once, we had an invitation from Leland Davis to give him a call. His tradition had been to run the Nolichucky on his birthday, but he was ready to celebrate in higher style. I was nervous, as I had been the previous time. Last year, I’d found the Green Narrows a bit intimidating. Big deal, you say? Well, perhaps; but I couldn’t remember ever having found a river intimidating before. My first runs of the Upper Gauley, Upper Yough, Section IV, Tallulah, and Big Sandy had all been fun. Certainly, none had caused me a sleepless night after running the river, as the Green had.

Driving down the long, steep, switchbacky road to the takeout, we chanced to see a pileated woodpecker darting in the woods. I later asked Leland and Joey if that “meant” anything. “Um, yeah,” one of them offered, “if you see a pileated woodpecker, it means that if you swim into an undercut, you’ll come out the other end.” His encouraging words seemed rather off-the-cuff and unconvincing.

Sue had earlier noted, with a little smug satisfaction, that last year, I seemed uncharacteristically quiet during the drive to the putin. This time, I was probably more my usual garrulous self. For the others, this probably meant the usual torture. For me, this meant there was Fun in My Future!

And there was. In contrast to last April’s run, this time I had fun. I asked which of the two would be better at leading me down. Joey deferred to Leland, who tried to use his expertise to garner extra Ratt Points. (Sorry, Ratt Points cannot be bought that easily. You can be nice, you can give shuttle, you can save Ratt’s Sorry Butt–doesn’t Matter. All that Matters is: did you paddle with the Ratt Boy?) I listened to Leland’s expert directions and followed him through all the cracks, turns, and boofs, all the way down the river. I noticed at one point that mine was the only boat of the four without a seriously dented bow. This was not for lack of trying. I noseplanted a couple of times into hard rock, but none was hard enough to cause a dent. Not yet.

Leland was having fun all day with his new Move—the Rock 360. It looked like fun, so I gave it a try. I’m soooo proud to say I got a solid Rock 90.

I warned Leland that I was considering the Monkey. He and Joey didn’t discourage me, but they strongly suggested that I walk the Notch, which is one of the drops in the approach rapid. The Notch is a steep, boat-width drop with a hole at the bottom. It could easily backender a Cruise Control—at least one with me at the wheel. If you get flipped in the hole, you have a squirrelly eddyline to roll up in, and you’re a couple of seconds from the Main Show. I chose to run the Pencil Sharpener, nosing into a rock from a 6-foot drop, walked the Notch, and prepared to enter the eddy. Perhaps to lend emotional support, or perhaps just because he felt like it, Ron also walked the Notch.

I watched Leland run the Notch, and he grinned broadly. Looking at the 25-foot chaotic drop ahead, he proclaimed, “That’s fine; I’ve made the rapid now.” He advised me on where to go, peeled out, and was off. As Leland scrambled to shore with my El Cheapo Kodako, Ron peeled out and was over the lip. (He looked a little right to me, getting perilously close to some converging flow, but he stayed upright the whole way.) It was my turn.

Leland at the Notch

A view from above! Joey Baranski runs Gorilla.

I kept slipping on the wet rocks. I got into my boat and skirted up. I was in the eddy. I pivoted a couple of times at the eddy line. I adjusted my gloves. (The day wasn’t cold; the gloves’ purpose was abrasion protection. While I’m on the subject of prophylactic measures, thanks to Leland for lending me his extra pair of elbow pads!) I was as ready as I was gonna be. I peeled from the eddy, took a couple of strokes, aimed…and…

I don’t know what happened next. It happened way too quickly. I was in the air. I landed. Everything was fast. I was fine. I got grabbed by the Speed Trap, the hole at the bottom. I braced, but it didn’t work; I was upside-down. I rolled up into the river-left eddy that the videos show everyone rolling up in. I had spanked the Monkey, and I was still in one piece!

Ratt Boy spanks the Monkey! Photo by Leland Davis.

Having walked the Notch, I can’t say I have a solid 5.2 under my belt. That’s okay. I can comfortably live with that. After Gorilla, I could relax a little. There’s plenty of Action afterwards, but nothing I hadn’t run before.

Of course Recon Ron and I followed Leland, walking Nutcracker and Sunshine. Only Joey ran those two. Regardless of Leland’s advice or example, no way was I running them. The former looks like a terrible pin-fest; the latter, well, it’s one of the very few rapids on my “never” list.

    
Joey Baranski runs Nutcracker (left) and Sunshine (right).

It was time to take on the nine-hour drive back home. I called the Lovely & Talented Mrs. Ratt from Charleston, WV, to tell her that I’d be home a day earlier than expected. I’d done all that I’d set out to do.

The following day, I got a note from Sue, saying there was no release. After several days of 24-hour, 100% releases, they shut off the spigot. Danged glad we got on when we did!

Anytime anybody mentioned a boat, f’rinstance when it was suggested that I might want to buy an RPM Max, Sue put on a long face. “RPM,” she concisely and succinctly pouted. Fortunately, she got a call on Friday from an Atlantahovian who’d found her boat!

It was a great trip. Big Sandy, Nolichucky, Section IV, Tallulah, Green. It had lots of great rapids: Big Splat, Jaws, Corkscrew, Oceana, Gorilla. But something was missing. As I drove back to Ohio, I knew what it was: not one of those rivers had a good, old-fashioned low-head dam.

Thanks to everybody. Thanks to John Kobak, for organizing a great trip. Thanks to Leland and Joey, for showing us down the Green. Thanks to Recon Ron’s uncle Bob, for putting us up in Hendersonville. Thanks to Ken, for the bit of folk art and the poem. Thanks to all my paddling buds for giving me good fodder for the trip report. Thanks to everybody!

Ratt Report–Days1 and 2    Ratt Report–Days 3 and 4

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Except as noted, all photos by Riviera Ratt. © 1999 RattTronics. All rights reserved. Please don’t use without permission, or may you be worked in a monstrous hole.