Down the River

Last week we went on a day trip down a wild and scenic river, the Chattooga. This river forms the border between northwest SC and northeast GA. We began our voyage at Wildwater Outfitters in Long Creek, SC. Actually, instruction began there. Our river guides introduced themselves. Some of the guides were bearded but not the two girl guides. The  guides, all in their early twenties, informed us on the dos and don'ts of river rafting; such necessary things as to how to properly adjust your PFD, Personal Flotation Device, and helmet. Then we walked to the equipment barn and were issued our paddle, PFD, and helmet. Our guides checked to see if we had our safety equipment worn correctly. The four bright blue rafts were lashed to the roof of a converted school bus, and our driver gave a short speech about safety. He wore what appeared to be an airline pilot's uniform with the visored cap of the Royal Air Force. His face bore a white handlebar mustache. We knew quite a bit about Captain John, the retired RAF pilot, having spoken with his wife at the registration counter. Soon we are at the river, having been transported on a bus using used cooking oil for fuel from a local fast food restaurant.  We had to carry everything a quarter of a mile to  the river. (The forest service allows no roads within a quarter of a mile of the river.) Prior to launching the seven man rafts we were given instruction on how to sit on the raft. Note the word "on". The paddler does not sit in the raft but rather on the side with the foot nearest the side wedged under the seat.  The guides also instructed us on how to survive falling into the river and how to retrieve a fellow paddler.

After at least an hour of instruction we launched the raft. Claudette and I were in a boat with a family of four from Melbourne, Florida.  As we ventured onto the river, our guide, Nicole, told us what commands we

would be given.  Commands such as "two strokes" or "left forward, right back". She also emphasized safety again. The raft was drifting with the flow of the river, and then it began to move faster as we entered the faster moving water. 

"Gimme two strokes," Nicole yelled over the roar of the river.  We dug in. I was perched precariously on the side of a blue raft  digging deep into the clear mountain water while holding on with my toes wedged under the raft seat. Suddenly, I notice that Claudette was missing. She had fallen overboard. Nicole was quick to the rescue.  She grabbed the top of Claudette's life jacket and pulled her back aboard the raft. Then she jumped back to the helm with her paddle and yelled for us to give three, meaning three strokes forward. There was no time to rejoice for Claudette's rescue.  The river waits for no one. We continued through Class II rapids; these are the most tame. Nicole continued to call out strokes.  My favorite was "break", that's when we rested a bit and let the raft move with the current. As we continued we floated into some Class III rapids and the paddling tempo picked up. Our guide navigated our boat through a rapid named Washington's Nose.  Unfortunately, we lost either Jared or  Jeremy there.  I could not tell the brothers apart.  Built like a college running back he simply stood in the water and grabbed the boat and climbed back in. On the next Class III, Nicole introduced us to a new command: "right forward, left back" which means that those on the left side paddled forward and those on the right  paddled backwards. The effect was to turn the raft around. Each rapid had to be run differently according to the water level of the river. Our guide said the water level was "just right".  I took that to be a positive comment. At one point I got almost thrown overboard, but felt Nicole and Claudette pulling me back aboard. On some occasions when the raft would be almost swamped our guide would tell us to "duck in". Once on one the Class IIIs the raft was almost flipped. It was tipped up on its side, and we were all scrambling to right it. It was a huge adrenaline rush.  We cheered for ourselves. 

In some of the quiet moments Nicole would entertain us with lively commentary. According to her if someone was a guide year round they would develop bigger muscles on one side. This reminded me of asymmetrical mammary augmentation*, a condition frequently contracted by British barmaids by pulling the tapper handle with the same hand all the time.  She told of taking some of the people who made the 1972 movie, Deliverance, down the river in celebration of the fortieth anniversary of the film.  Naturally everyone started hearing banjo music, and we found out that the banjo picker in the movie now worked at the Wal-Mart in nearby Clayton, Georgia. 

"Do you know where to hide your money from a river guide?" she asked.

"I donno," we said in unison.

"Under a bar of soap!" she answered. 

It seems that most  river guide jokes concern hygiene. At a flat  smooth place on the river we pulled up on a sandy beach and the guides flipped a raft over to use as a table for lunch. We enjoyed a lunch of sandwiches we made from a variety of meats, cheeses and vegetables. After a half hour break we were back on the river. Soon we were at a Class IV rapid, Bull Sluice. Here we had the option of whether we would run the rapid or not.  It had a nice drop. Claudette and I decided that we'd rather watch.  Our raft was the only one of the four which did not lose a paddler running this rapid. One raft lost everyone except the guide. After all the rafts were through the rapid it was time for a swim. But not really. You jumped in the water  and the current carried you down the river about fifty feet and a river guide pulled you out. The sirens were there clad in bikinis.  They were like the women in Greek mythology who lured the sailors' ships onto the rocky shore. I remembered visiting this place to watch the rafters and kayakers in the 1980s, and the sirens were there then. Maybe these were the daughters or granddaughters.  We continued on paddling under the Highway 76 bridge.  I had once done a painting of a baptismal service there. We floated quietly for a short length of time. Then Nicole told us that there is a quarter of a mile of rapids ahead. We braced ourselves.  Soon she began yelling the commands over the roar of the Chattooga. 

"Gimme two!"
"Gimme three!"
"Gimme three more!"
"Put your whole body into it!"
"Left forward, right back!"
"Duck in!"
"Gimme two!"
"Thanks, Guys."
"Take a break."
"Gimme one!"

And then the cycle began again. She told us that we were on the part of the river where they filmed the scene in Deliverance where Burt Reynold's character broke his leg.  I'm not sure this fact gave me a feeling of security.  Soon we stopped for another swim. Claudette and I opted to kick back in the boat while the younger rafters intentionally got into the river. When everybody was back in the boat we got hung on a rock, and Nicole jumped out of the raft to move it off the rock. Jared followed her in to help.  The rest of us jumped up and down to help free the raft. After two more rapids, Class IIIs, our trip was over. We hauled everything up the quarter mile slope to the see the smiling face of Captain John, the bus driver. 

When we got back to the Wildwater registration center we hopped in the car for a quick trip to our cottage and hot showers. Then we went back to the registration center to chat with Nicole a bit and for Claudette to shop at the store. We made a fifteen mile drive in the pouring rain to Clayton, Georgia, for some hamburgers, the closest hot food. We were starving!

We found our "adventure" enjoyable, but I wished I had gone river rafting twenty or thirty years sooner. 

Tony, Tim, Michelle,Jared, Jeremy, and Claudette

*imaginary name for an actual condition