After a family visit, my dad dropped me off at the Harpers Ferry Hostel just outside of town. I planned to float the Shenandoah the next day before heading back to Chicago on the train. First though, I wanted to make a scuffle up to the Maryland Heights Overlook for a great view of the town. This marked the end of my summer, and it was a good one. There were adventures to be had, friendships to be made, and obsessions to fulfill. And at the end of it, there was a red sun in the west.

I finally got the wide angle shot of the town that I liked and started packing up when I heard somebody say “Want me to take your picture with the sunset?” It was Megan, a woman from Baltimore on a weekend trip in the mountains. We traded cameras and got our shots, luckily in a 5 minute window before the sun went behind the trees ahead.

We hiked back down the ridge. She told me about a huge road trip she took to the national parks out west, and I told her all about Alaska. At the end of the trail we agreed to stay in touch and I made my way back to the hostel in the dark. If it weren’t for that awesome sunset, we wouldn’t have met. But the trail always has a way of bringing people into my life when I least expect it to.

I slept a few hours and left before daybreak for the river. It would be an 8 mile hike to the town of Milville and the public launch to the Shenandoah River. I walked in the dark for an hour before I saw the glow of dawn over the silhouetted mountains. Even then, that early on Sunday morning, plenty of people were driving out on 340.

I got to Milville Road at sunrise, just outside of the town. South on Milville Road is the entrance to the Civil War Battlefield. At the top of this field is Schoolhouse Ridge, one of three ridges used by Stonewall Jackson to surround the Union garrison and the town, ultimately leading to their surrender after three days of fighting. This historic site is now owned and operated by the NPS, allowing people to visit and see the features of this battlefield.

Finally, I got to the boat ramp and paddled into calm water at mid-morning. After going for two miles, I hit the first rapid, an unnamed smooth channel going through a small ledge system. After a short break, I got to Bull Falls, the iconic drop on the river. Here, the river channels into a big V-wave, making for an easy line as long as you can bust through the hydraulic at the bottom. I scouted it from the rocks to the right. Further right was another big slot with a nasty log jam. Stay out if you want to live.

I waited for a guided raft to go over the falls and followed behind them. In a packraft, the best way to hit a hole is to lean forward and paddle your ass off. If you do it right, you’ll slam through the glassy water at the bottom and come out clean. Up ahead, the current continued into Bull’s Tail, a fast wave train just after the falls. From there, it calmed down for half a minute and channeled into Lunch Rock Follies, another swift channel that carried me into the middle.

After a big flatwater break, I got into eyeshot of the 340 bridge and the top of Staircase Rapids. As the name would suggest, it is a huge series of small ledges that go down the river for a mile.

It was the end of the summer and the local gauge measured at 1.6ft, making for a bony river run. This made for a lot of scraping as I tried to find runnable channels over each ledge. After a half an hour and a lot of swearing, I finally got to the bottom of the Lower Staircase. The last couple ledges here were good, since the river narrows and brings the channels up enough for halfway decent tongue action. Still, I should have followed a guided raft for it. I hear that Staircase is a sick run in the springtime levels, and I don’t doubt it.

I floated past the town and the stone columns of a torn out railroad bridge to the confluence, where up ahead the Potomac joined the river below the rocky cliffs of Maryland Heights. I passed a group of people on innertubes on my way to Whitehorse Rapid, a solid wave train on river left. Finally, I ferried across to the takeout on the right, ending my last big river trip of the summer.

Thanks to Amtrak’s Capitol Limited line, this town is easily accessible, especially now that it has a bike car. I made a note of it as I boarded to leave. And to make a long story short, I did end up coming back on a bike. But that’s another story.

All packed up and Chicago bound!

Rafting the Lower Yough

I’m always one for an unexpected side trip, especially if the water is fast and the waves are raging. In Appalachia, there’s a lot of it. This time, I was on a bike tour out of Pittsburgh on the Great Allegheny Passage during the latest autumn peak. When I planned my route, I realized that the trail follows the Youghiogheny River past the town of Ohiopyle, a popular area for commercial rafting. So of course I had to sign up for a river trip. To me, a good whitewater hit is like getting a shot of endorphins straight to the jugular. (I would know; I actually gave myself a shot of endorphins right to my jugular, and the feeling could be summed up in two words: Gauley Season)

I made it into town at 10, locked my bike outside, and checked in at Laurel Highlands for their 10:30 trip on the Lower river. Soon, we walked down to the public launch just after Ohiopyle Falls. One of the guides explained all of the safety points to us, like don’t stand in moving water because foot entrapment is definitely not party.

Then they assigned us to our rafts and we pushed out into calm water and the onset of a Class III ledge system. I was put on a 16 footer with a group of 5 nuclear energy workers from North Carolina. They were all part of a team at their jobs, and liked to go on outings together as well, probably because teambuilding.

Our guide steered us into the middle of Entrance Rapid, a meaty Class III with a few really good wave-holes. Thanks to all the rain from earlier that week, the levels spiked that day to about 2ft above average. What would normally be bone city at the end of the warm season was a lot of smooth V-waves and big churning holes. There was plenty of swell and rockout for the river enthusiast. Run a line. Take a swim. Get all out in it. Appalachia.

Cucumber Rapid was next, a big ledge of Class III-IV. We put the drop on it and charged out on the tailwaves and into calming water. A photographer caught us in mid-yell.

This went on for the next mile. In your typical Appalachian style, there was a sweet rapid with a good hit and flipping potential, followed by a break of flatwater and lots of time to gather up your belongings and swim back to the boat. After Railroad Rapid, there is a loop takeout on the right where you can hike back to the top to run the sweet back to back mile again. My packraft would be great for this.

We passed under a bridge and went for two miles of calm water with an occasional riffle. Our guide had an archive of old river jokes, stories and puns to keep us entertained in the down time. I’m sure he’s had plenty of river trips to fine tune his act. He was like a comedian, except that the back of the raft was his stage and we were the audience.

When we took out for lunch, I realized that I was cold. I rented a wetsuit, but realized I probably could have used a spray jacket. Nothing I can do about it now. Maybe I could get my core temperature back with food. That didn’t help. Although shivering in the cool October air on a sweet river trip, I’m pretty sure I’m right to say it’s worth it. I should have brought my drysuit for this.

I felt better again when we got moving. We approached Dimple Rock, a notorious undercut on river left. This one made me nervous. It is the site of numerous fatalities over the last 30 years. The guide had us push hard and steered us into the main line just right of it. It is a wide, easy channel that pillows on the edge of the rock and drops a few feet after. So as long as you don’t fall out at the top then you’re fine. All the rafts got through without incident.

For the next three miles, we went through numerous rocky rapids, pourover holes and ledges, and then more flatwater. Some of them channeled into boulder gardens with multiple lines. But nothing rated higher than a Class IV at a high swell. This wasn’t like the Upper Yough, which is a technical rocky section with a lot of nice Class V in your face. I’d love to shred the gnar out of it sometime.

We got back to the town and I said goodbye to the guide and the nuclear energy team. But not without first buying a set of photos of our trip – our evidence of just how hard this river rocks. I went next door and tried to warm up with food and coffee. It kind of worked, and kind of not really. Soon, I was back on my bike and heading east. Finally, my blood heated up to a good core level as I dried off on the trail.

I recommend Laurel Highlands to anybody looking for a good river trip in southwest Pennsylvania. The river valleys are beautiful and full of sweet whitewater hits. And their guides know the river well, and can bring the good times and bad jokes!

This story continues on the C&O Towpath.

My last weekend in Appalachia was an all out balls to the walls whitewater shitstorm. I rafted West Virginia’s world famous Gauley River, a wild run of Class V rapids back to back, and got everything you could want out of a whitewater rafting trip. Huge wave trains, big ledges, powerful crashing torrents. The Gauley has it all.

Dropping 668ft at an average of 28ft per mile, it runs on a high gradient for 28 miles between the Summersville Dam and its confluence with the New River downstream. In the summer, levels and difficulty can vary, but all of that changes in the fall. Starting every weekend after Labor Day, the Army Corps of Engineers releases the Summersville Dam at a controlled flow of 2,400cfs for six consecutive weekends. The result is a huge series of torrents that cascade voilently through more than 100 rapids between the dam and the confluence below, drawing rafters and kayakers from all over the world.

I discovered it when I was planning my return to the New River Gorge. Commercial outfitters in the area shuttle rafters to both the New and Gauley Rivers, and though the New River is the bigger and more scenic of the two, the Gauley exceeds it sheer technical bone-crushing power. If it were a metal album, it would be the Heartwork-era Carcass of rivers.

There are five Class V rapids on the Upper Gauley, and they have plenty of III-IV rapids between them. Boulders and undercuts can often be seen along the riverbanks, necessitating scouting if you don’t have a guide with you. Its rapids – though iconic and well-known – are not for beginners or for the careless. I knew that guided commercial rafting was the only remotely safe way I could get through them, seeing as my kayak roll still pretty much sucks and I sure as hell wouldn’t try it in my packraft.

I drove out to Ace Raft on the first Friday evening of the season, slept in my parents’ van, and went down early on Saturday morning to the main building to check in. They had us sign release waivers, taught us basic whitewater safety, got us our paddling gear, and boarded us into a Gauley-bound school bus. We reached the put-in at Summersville Dam an hour later, where they organized us into different rafts. I was placed in a group with three other guys and a guide named Bear, a large bearded fellow and experienced riverman. I walked over and greeted him.

“So you just came out here by yourself?” he said.
“Yeah, it’s just me,” I responded.
“That’s wierd. Don’t you have friends you could bring with you?”
“Yeah I do, but they all pussied out!”

We got in the river, which at the onset was pretty cold (wise of me to rent a wetsuit at the lodge), and hit some good III-IV rapids early on as the fear and energy escalated. There were about thirty minutes worth of choppy waves and small holes to contend with as a warmup to Insignificant Rapid, the first Class V of the day. We needed all the time we could get to learn or perhaps relearn the paddling maneuvers needed to navigate this stuff. Fog lay heavily on the river and the roar ahead reminded us increasingly that the flatwater just above Insignificant was deceptively calm.

Soon enough, we were pounding through it. It is more or less a huge wave train with a lot of lateral waves and ledges that go all the way down to the pool below. At the onset, its waves are small and manageable, but become increasingly bigger before passing a huge slanted boulder on the right and pouring into a big hole at the bottom. We rolled right through it and cheered in the flatwater.

It was big, but Pillow Rock was bigger. After thirty minutes or so of negligible, smaller rapids, we floated around a bend to the left and into earshot of what was easily the most dramatic and terrifying rapid of the day. In this section, the river channels into a huge crashing torrent that piles into Pillow Rock, a giant house sized boulder on river left. I knew all about it and remembered it well from my nightmares. My arms and legs were ice cold from adrenaline. Holy fucking shit. This is it!

Sunlight glimmered through the morning fog, and Bear steered us right through the middle of the golden, crashing water. We went right for it as turbulent water tumbled all around us, and Bear shouted “Touch the rock!” We smacked it with our paddles before dropping down another hole and washing out of the rapid. We cheered like we were the kings of the river and high fived our paddles.

Just downstream from Pillow, Hungry Mother Hole was ready to chew us up and spit us out of her huge, foaming jaws. Bear had us ferry in from the left and try to surf the hole. It didn’t work out. The left side of the raft got caught under the current, sending all of us except Bear into the water. In the camera boater’s footage, I can be seen tumbling out and flipping over as my body hit the side of the raft. I came up underneath for a second and kicked my way back to the side. Bear helped two guys back in while I scrambled back into the raft and helped the last guy in from the right.

We continued onto Lost Paddle, the longest Class V section of the river. It has four drops and is loaded with undercut rocks on both sides for most of the way. But nothing that can’t be avoided, as it mostly channels on a center line. We hit the first three drops without any trouble, including the 9ft drop at Hawaii 5-0 Wave, before eddying out to river right and catching our breath. We had one more drop, Tumblehome, the last and most nervewracking section of the rapid. True to its name, it threw us out of our seats, though we all stayed in the boat. Bear yelled at us to keep paddling as we tried to scramble back into position.

Iron Ring was next, a short and sweet little powerhouse of a Class V. It has two 8ft drops, which at dam season levels amount to a huge, beautiful wave train. We hit it head on.

There was one more Class V rapid left. The horizon line slowly vanished ahead as we approached the roar of Sweet’s Falls, the last of the “Big Five” of the Upper Gauley. It is a 14ft waterfall with a small flume right in the middle, giving boaters a smooth line through if they get it just right. A few feet too far right or left will surely mean a dramatic wipeout. Bear steered us smoothly in from the right and we got it by the throat. We hit a small hydraulic at the bottom and back-ferried past the boulders on river left.

Up ahead, we saw an injured kayaker in the water. The camera boater from one of the other outfitters had dislocated his shoulder going over the falls. We paddled up to him, Bear carefully got him into the raft, and we ferried him to shore. Somebody downstream recovered his kayak and he was safely evacuated. All was well again on the river, but it reminded me that you can never be too careful out there. Not even when you know what you’re doing. Bear tied down our raft and we went up to the tents along the banks for a grilled lunch.

Rafting outfitters stop all along the shores of Sweet’s Falls to eat lunch and watch the boaters go over the waterfall. We ate burgers and traded stories with the other groups about where we fell out, which at this point almost everybody had done somewhere.

I came back from the outhouse and saw a raft go over the falls and flip at the bottom, making for some disastrously awesome river carnage. The left side of the raft turned upward from a hydraulic, sending one guy sailing a few feet into the air. The other paddlers tumbled to the right, and half of this newly jettisoned dude landed on the capsizing raft before he tumbled into raging water. Everybody else fell out the other side. People on both riverbanks cheered like they just saw their favorite UFC fighter kick somebody into another timezone. The first thought that came to my mind was HOLY FUCK!!!!! They washed out into calming flatwater and recovered downstream.

After lunch, we got back in and paddled another few miles to the takeout at Wood’s Ferry. Most of the rapids were tamer and more spread out, giving me time to relax and ponder what it all fucking means. By the end of the day, I was certain that my balls had increased in size by at least twenty percent.

It is no exaggeration to say that the Upper Gauley River is the whitewater trip of a lifetime. But as is the case with any big river, you have to know what you’re doing. If you go, I recommend that you do at least one trip on another IV-V as practice, like the Lower New or Lower Gauley rivers. Both of those runs are tamer and more forgiving to swimmers. You should definitely know all of the commonly used paddling maneuvers and absolutely know what to do when you fall out. All that said, it is so worth it.

Bring your game face to this badass river, and take on the finest rapids in Appalachia.