Tumbling Through Paradise - Whitewater Raftin In West Virginia

Tumbling Through Paradise

by Marty Heflin

Publication Date: June 1997

Front left in absolute weightlessness. My paddle claws at air. I am suspended two-feet above the front-end of an eight-man raft that has plunged into the first of a series of butt-grinding waves on the Upper Gauley River. I am in a watery canyon: a Class VI rapid known as "Iron Ring." Now bottom meets rubber and the raft lunges forward with me miraculously still on board. Stranger still, my paddle pushes water, albeit in the wrong direction. "Big Al," our red-bearded proto-typical West Virginia mountain man guide is yelling "Back it up!" But I, in post-survival shock, am still gleefully paddling forward. Once reformed of my evil ways, I join the rest of the fear-gripped paddlers, moving gallons of water toward the front of the boat to reposition us for the second half, "Tumble Home" of this incredible frothing whitewater panorama.

The Gauley River which tumbles 25-feet per mile over 25 miles near Beckley, West Virginia is one of the most difficult whitewater challenges in the United States. From its start at the Summersville Dam to where it spends itself, joining the New River, it is a twisted, terrible beauty. What it lacks in the macho "big water" of some western rivers, it makes up for in speed, intensity, and technical difficulty. The difference between the Colorado and the Gauley is analogous to the difference between a '68 Pontiac GTO and a '96 Porsche 911 Turbo. Both are fast, but one is a muscle car, and the other handles better.

In September the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers opens the flumes at the base of the Summersville Dam to lower the level of the lake of the same name. The Summersville Dam is, as one sign nearby states, "The largest earthen dam in the world."

As a million gallons of water a minute are hurled through the flumes, a sleepy, rocky creek is suddenly transformed into Niagara Falls on steroids! It is awe inspiring to stand at the base of the dam and marvel at the rumbling physics of release. This is the put-in No warm-up round with some light paddling. It is a desperate paddle into the face of this watery jet engine wash to break through the eddy wall and enter the flow of the Upper Gauley. Adrenaline and endorphines form a toxic brew in the bloodstream as you break through the eddy wall with icy water cleaning out your aural cavity and a goofy grin becomes your visage. You have passed the first test toward becoming a Gauley rider.

To truly enjoy the ride, you have to be in the hands of a good driver. Drift-A-Bit (D-A-B) is as good as they get. I've been riding the Gauley for five years and am amazed that every year I see the same faces guiding the D-A-B rafts. It speaks highly of the company that they retain experienced veterans year-after-year. The other likable quality is that they really want you to enjoy the ride. The experience at the end of the day is memorable both for the excitement and gorgeous scenery of the Gauley River valley and the camaraderie that is generated through shared trialand jokes. Lots of jokes. Last year, our raft served as a continental joke exchange with representatives from Arizona, Michigan, Virginia, and Tennessee weighing-in with their respective states' best laughs. At the end of the day my shoulders were sore from paddling, but my diaphragm ached from laughing all day.

A day on the Gauley begins at D-A-B headquarters where Brenda, the co-owner yells into the early morning fog for the 8 O'clock group to muster. Bodies appear out of the mist as campers and fresh arrivals gather paddles, helmets and lifejackets. They then sign their waivers, deposit their keys in the community bowl and deliver their souls to the skill of the guides and the whims of the Gauley River. A bus ride to the put-in with further safety instructions and nervous veterans eyeing the dish-plate-eyed virgins and the voyage begins.

Later, after instructions in the Class VI "Lost Paddle" and "Iron Ring," and refresher courses in the "Put-In," "Insignificant" and "Pillow Rock," recess and lunches are held on the banks of the river near the Class V "Sweet Falls" which features a 12-foot vertical drop. Now veteran rafters cheer from the riverbanks demanding "tacos" and "carnage" of those that follow over the falls. Particularly those that are unfortunate enough to wind up behind Postage Due rock in the "Juicer," where the only way out is to abandon the raft and run for your life. Like NASCAR, without the crashes, you would be watching traffic.

The post-lunch ride features class participation with attractions like "Swimmers Rapids" and "Jump Rock" both named for their respective activities. Then comes the "Bull Ride," where one lucky crew member is singled out for punishment. Everyone else in the raft gathers at the stern while the "bull rider" balances over the front of the bow, proudly thrusts one arm in the air and wraps the other feeble limb around a short rope on the bow. Then, as the raft plunges through a series of holes, the front end flops up and down throwing the bull rider to and fro like an unwanted pancake on the end of a spatula. If the rider survives (a rare occurrence) he or she is heartily congratulated by all. If the rider "swims" he or she is also congratulated by all. As a three-time winner of the red-ribboned "Gauley Swimmer's Award," I can proudly state that it's not the distance or severity of the underwater experience but the pleasure of getting back in the boat!

After the bull ride, a few sneaky rapids remain before the take-out, including "Wood's Ferry," which features a "kiss the rock" experience that is similar to the thrill of hanging upside-down over the wall in Blarney Castle, except the opposite wall, which you are meant to kiss, is flying by at Mach 3.

Take-out and the physical strain of clambering up the trail to get to the bus that takes you back, finish the day. The night begins with plenty of beer and tales to be told well into the next year when you start all over again.

Marty Heflin is a real estate developer and casual adventurer who lives in Nashville, Tennessee.