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canoeing, kayaking and other adventures

canoeing and kayaking adventures born in the Southeastern U.S. and now centered in Scotland...

Sunday, March 19, 2006


Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries.


Sunset beyond the southern Highlands, as viewed from the William Wallace Monument in Stirling. Earlier in the day, we hiked to the snow line on the south face of Ben Lomond.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

If You’re Going to be Stupid, You’ve Got to be Tough – 12/3/2006

I was channeling Stu Porter on the way to the lockup this morning, through 20MPH gusts of snow. Except he was talking about playboating, not being stupid and cold. Thankfully, David and Rob had enough sense to call off the trip, deciding against a scrape down the Teith in a -1C snowstorm. I was grateful. I think Lucas was sad. We enjoyed the Edinburgh with a walk around and through Holyrood Park. It may not be the tough thing to do, but I’m happy to not be stupid.


an alpine perspective of Arthurs Seat

Visiting An Old Friend with Old Friends: Clear Creek – Barnett to Lilly 25/2/2006

My plan to squeeze in a paddling trip while in Tennessee for work turned out beautifully. When I staggered out of the plane at Nashville International, it was 60F and the sun was just thinking about starting to set.

Beth and Henry fed me two and a half glasses of wine. That’s falling off a barstool drunk for those of you who have never been out drinking with me. Especially since I ate “dinner” at Newark airport around 2pm. The upside to two and a half glasses of wine plus it’s way past my bedtime is that I slept hard. I woke up at 2am, but went right back to sleep. The 5:30am wakeup for paddling was no big deal. A rarity!

Henry opted to spent quality puppy time with Suzie and Spooky. Beth and I met up with Jim Cameron’s trip at the Cracker Barrel breakfast. Originally set for the West Fork of the Obey, water levels and safety made it much more appropriate that we head for Clear Creek instead. Patrick Wilson had said he’d paddle tandem with me, so I was doubly happy to see him at the breakfast table. Also there were Diann, Woody, Morris, Larry, Bob, Jean, Mike Q. and Fuzzy. By the time the caravan reached the get-in, more familiar faces joined us, including Willie, Geary and half a Jeremiah. Eventually, I recognized Lori’s husband Scott, too. In the great tradition of TSRA trips, there were some new faces, too.

Faff Factor Five is not strictly a Scottish phenomenon. I think we launched above Barnett Bridge sometime after 11am, despite the 8am breakfast.

Patrick and I took some time getting acquainted with each other’s paddling. As Patrick is a lefty and bigger than me, both of us thought it would be wise for him to paddle in the back on his preferred side. Unfortunately, I had to learn the right stokes. Literally. We did a few donuts in the big eddy above the bridge. Our first attempt at ferry gliding across the current nearly swept us into a strainer, so we retreated to the eddy for more donuts. Once everybody was ready to go, we broke into the current and began the trek downstream. Woody led and Geary took sweep, and we found ourselves alternating between near front and near back, depending on how much time we spent getting acquainted with so many firsts of tandem.

John and Kathy Moyer were kind enough to lend us their Dagger Caption, so it was a familiar boat in unfamiliar conditions. My flexibility for the normally offside strokes was great for the now onside strokes, but my now offside strokes left a bit to be desired. Barnett to Jett would be a great opportunity to practice. It felt a bit odd to be leaning left (as Patrick is heavier, he wins) and drifting downstream with the left edge downstream, but with my paddle on the wrong side.

I checked the gauge before Beth and I left. It looked like high noon would bring us around 400cfs at Lilly. Barnett to Lilly was the most fun I have ever seen it, with all sorts of fun rapids that are not usually there. We sort of eddy hopped our way through them, not as easily as either of us would have liked. An occasional crunch of the boat’s stern announced the presence of a rock that we had not noticed when choosing our line. Progress was slow, but not in a bad way. We talked through the more challenging moves, rather than rely on (usually wrong) assumptions of what the other was thinking. In between rapids, I educated my fellow Americans on the proper Scottish terms for paddling moves and features, and described Scottish Rivers in Cumberland Plateau terms.

The boat and the wrong side became more comfortable as the day progressed. The occasional offside stroke worked. Daniel Boone’s trick of backpaddling to avoid taking on too much water took some practice, but eventually, I got better than 50/50 with it.

Below the undercut rapid, we lunched at the next pseudo-beach we found. Originally scheduled to be a stretch your knees break, lunch demanded to be eaten. With some creativity, there was enough room for the twenty boats that we had. Beth was kind enough to feed me, as I had not thought beyond breakfast on my trip to Wild Oats.

We buzzed past Jett Bridge, Jim’s original intention for lunch break, and headed toward the more challenging rapids. I was grateful for the Barnett to Jett warmup. Patrick and I could have done just Jett to Lilly tandem, but the getting acquainted time beforehand made sure Jett to Lilly was fun-awkward instead of awkward. We ran rapids more than eddy hopped, but rarely struggled with a line. Our line through the first rapid was spot on.

Rarely struggled and didn’t struggle are different ideas, and in case you forgot, I said rarely. The unnamed rapid with the big, partially undercut boulder in the middle was our first miscommunication. The confusion between left and far left meant we nearly ran the left hole sideways. Patrick’s high side kept us upright, with no evidence of mistake that a bailer couldn’t fix. I suppose it’s good to have the building confidence checked occasionally. We watched the kayakers help Willie clean up his first brisk swim in a while.

Our slip ups meant that we didn’t stop talking through the rapids. Communication is useful. On our run through Tea Kettle, or whatever that one with the big waves is called, I nailed the back paddle on three of the four waves, not bad considering it, too, was near optimum for big waves. Now that I think about it, I think it might be Teapot, but the Scots would call it Tea Kettle. We took a knee break at Tea Kettle while others surfed. The waves were big enough that the long pointy boats surfed easier than the short stubby boats, much to the younger paddlers’ dismay. Beth and Woody enjoyed slight flirtations with the wave, while Scott and some other guys got spit out right away. Morris probably got the best short surf of anyone when he borrowed the Caption.

After a good rest and a second dumping of water thanks to Morris’s surf, we continued downstream. The wee rapids that followed were a breeze thanks to both of us working through them. In the rapid above the Grunch, we had a beautiful, flawless, where are all the rocks line until the last drop crunch grind crunch put us back in our place.

The jetlag was starting to catch up with me, so I was seriously debating whether or not to run the Grunch. I decided to avoid regret and take my chances, but first warned Patrick that now was the time for him to start telling me what to do. I may not do what I’m told, but if I’m not doing anything, I probably will do what I’m told.

Our run through the Grunch was the last of the group. We hit the first drop easily, then flush through the second drop and I heard Patrick yell, “Draw! Draw!” As I wasn’t really doing anything else, I leaned into a big draw. The Caption thought about it for a moment and then decided it did want to go right. What began as a slow limber to the right became a sharp right as the boat made up its mind and we didn’t even scrape a rock. I think that was my cleanest Grunch run yet, and better, there wasn’t anything to bail.

Mac’s buddy broach rock was absent in honor of her absence, so Spinner was the next rapid. At 400cfs, Spinner was definitely spinning. Patrick and I lurched into the turn around the river left boulder sideways and very slowly avoided the middle rock pourover. We caught a friendly eddy below the boulder and watched the parade of people behind us. Larry reinacted our line a little too well and fell out of his boat upstream. They were easily reunited. Morris toyed with the Spinner. Willie tried to follow and wound up rolling instead.

Next up was Pourover. Cue the stuntboaters. Patrick and I did fine early on, but something pushed us more left than we expected. We rammed the second boulder on the left square. I picked my paddle out of the water as we leaned toward the rock, spun and ran the rest of the rapid backwards. The water won that run, but the Caption was kind enough to let us ride it out upright. I felt pretty confident that the boulder encounter was going to result in a bruise by the next morning.

A few more wee rapids led us to Lilly Rapid and our get-out. 400cfs meant that Lilly waves were going to be big fun. We opted to plow through it all, while others chose to eddy hop. The Caption chose to eddy hop, too. We started right of the centre boulder and I took the first big wave right in the face. However much water that wave contributed made the boat take on a mind of its own. We lurched forward, bobbing through the rest of the wave train with a definite list to port. The big hole at the bottom of the rapid is on river left, added incentive to stay right. The Caption really wanted to go left and decided we should “catch” the eddy below the bridge.

We were stuck on a rock briefly, until Patrick gave a good wiggle to set us free. The eddy was big enough for us to adjust from sideways to pointing upstream. I think we both shrugged why not and asked the Caption to help us ferry glide to the centre of the current before breaking in properly. That break-in was probably my least awkward offside draw of the day. Perhaps it was the motivation? We found our way to the bottom eddy with the big grins that only a great day on the river could bring. What a day!

Egress at the bridge is a bit of a nightmare, especially with a canoe as dainty as the Caption. We opted for the longer walk up the less steep trail, so I led Patrick through the maze of rocks below. The extra gallons of water made that process just a wee bit more awkward. To keep both of our nerves at ease, we ran far left through the maze to make sure we didn’t miss it and find ourselves at Jacks Rock Falls instead. We found our egress and Morris joined us. After four hours of paddling, Patrick and I could not lift the Caption above our heads. Attempt 1 ended with me not getting enough oomph to get it overhead. Attempt 2 ended with Patrick deciding we still weren’t close enough. So we dragged and staggered not even halfway before Morris rejoined us and took my spot. By the end of our stagger, the last of the other boaters had made it up their stairs, too.

The Faff Factor at the get-out is usually much higher than at the get-in, especially on a nice, sunny day like we had. I shared biscuits with whoever wanted to be a little British for the day. Patrick had tea, so he was able to enjoy them in their proper environment.

After goodbyes to some, a few of us retreated to the Outback Steakhouse in Cookeville for dinner. I shared the Scottish Whitewater guidebook with them, as just a little extra incentive to make the trip across the pond if resources permitted. Dinner was great, company was better. It felt good to be home, even if I was just visiting for a little while.

Tandem on the River Teith from a New Perspective– 12/2/2006

Someone on a different website remarked that the entire week had boasted perfect paddling weather, except for Saturday and Sunday. Saturday followed the Scottish rule of multiple seasons, combining overcast, rain, sun, snow flurries and wind. Sunday was a wee warmer, and combined only the overcast and light rain. Saturday offered the first bump in the river gauges in weeks, so we were grateful. We paddled on Sunday, on a beginner trip with the Edinburgh Kayak Club. The destination was the River Teith in Callander and Saturday’s rain donation bumped its gauge from “low” to “medium”.

By Saturday afternoon, I had arranged transport with Robin, so we could bring the canoe in a bag and not break Lucas’ back riding the bus and walking to the lockup. Robin was late retrieving us, and was grateful to see Derek already at the lockup helping people get the boats they wanted. We squeezed five paddlers into Robin’s estate car and headed west to the River Teith. After following Derek, Robin learned that Callum’s route through the city was faster than Derek’s, as we didn’t catch up to him until we had been on the M8 for a while. Three more paddlers joined us via the Newbridge rendezvous for a total of 16 paddlers. Only a handful were worthy of the title beginner. The rest of us were just out to enjoy a nice day on the river.

The River Teith at medium is a pleasant grade 1/2 run. The usual faffing at the get-in gave us ample time to assemble the Pakboat. I was planning on paddling stern, so we set up the whitewater seats accordingly. After the shuttle returned to the get-in, we hopped into our respective boats and began the leisurely float downstream.

The bridge below the get-in gave us plenty of warm up break outs, break ins and ferry glides. Graham tried to use us to help with a canoe stall, and found the move worked better if we used draws and pries to counter his boat’s weight. Bridge fun subsided and we drifted downstream. Derek’s son Kieron found a football, so polo practice began. Eventually, we were asked to guard the football. Soon, Kieron found a second football, the practice reconvened and again, we were asked to guard the football.

Stern paddling was awkward at first. I felt like Lucas and I were fighting each other with our paddle strokes. Eventually, I remembered Daniel Boone’s advice and spent more time ruddering than paddling, which seemed to work better. I don’t know if Lucas noticed, at least not right away.

Eddy hopping was interesting. I think I was doing ok with the leaning, but not so great with what paddle stroke went where. Our early attempts at surfing left a bit to be desired, too. Watching Rhian paddle was quite fun. Our first ever EKC trip was her first river trip in a kayak. She had paddled the Tweed with her dad on the summer Canadian trip, but never anything on her own. She was timid running the rapids, but had great balance. With a solid pool roll with and without her paddle, her timidity was disappearing. As the rapids got bigger, she never stopped smiling.

The first of the more challenging rapids was the big centre boulder where the challenge is to catch the eddy behind the big boulder instead of ramming the big boulder. Some people ran left; others ran right. One of the beginners forgot to stop looking at the big boulder and end up doing a handstand on it for a while. Lucas hopped out to help and I clung to Ali and others to avoid stranding him on the boulder.

After the drama ended, we continued downstream. A few wee rapids later brought us to the big one of the day. Lucas and I were among the first to run it. We caught the big eddy on the left and watched the parade of paddlers run the big drop. Some eyes got bigger and some grins got bigger. We ended the day with no swims all around.

The usual faffing at the get-out car park was cut short by Robin’s need to watch rugby. We listened to the Scotland-Wales game on the drive home. The need to watch rugby slowly disappeared on the drive home as Scotland learned the hard way that it’s not a good idea to show up to a rugby match with only fifteen men. We later learned that fifteen men was a bad idea because that left too little bacon in the scrum. This trip to the Teith had all sorts of learning experiences for us.