Post 4: Firsts

Entering the Cat Hole

      My first real Greenbrier River journey, on the four miles from Renick to Spring Creek and back again on the adjacent trail, came with many other paddleboard firsts, from position changes to standing strokes, rapids reading to boulder dodging, SUP trekking to a first boating accident. 

     The winding mountain stream consisting of long, clear pools interspersed with riffles and ledges puts the new skill set to the test. Standing paddling is splashy in the first slow stretch, chasing a bald eagle and a kingfisher downstream from tree-to-tree, but soon settles into strong vertical strokes using postural shifts as I focus on getting past the last houses. 

     The next slow-moving section is the Cat Hole where hippy homesteaders from the surrounding communes still meet to celebrate high summer, but now joined by their children and grandchildren. An elderly caver once told me about wading downstream in a drought year and seeing a whirlpool winding into the deepest pool, with minimal flow below it for a half mile until reemerging from beneath the river bottom. 

     I steer clear of that hidden underwater vortex and into a shallow rapids that forces a first lesson in push-off turns from the upright kneeling position. The boat is quicker to respond than a canoe, with only one bumpy brush with a boulder that jostles me a little. Afterwards, I find that one of the flexible six-inch fins is scratched but otherwise undamaged. This was not the first boating collision of the trip.

     It's neither stone nor maelstrom that nearly did in this inaugural journey. Upon arrival at the boat launch parking green, I had laid the twelve-foot board behind my six-foot wide Hyundai Ioniq intending to quickly gear-up before carrying it down the nearby packed-earth ramp. I'm back in the car loading my i-phone into a waterproof camera bag, the final piece of baggage, when an exhausted couple stumble out of their guide's truck, fall into their car, and back right over my brand new boat. They're gone before I can complete my shocked gasp, so please let me know if you see a white Mercedes with Virginia plate AHL-12B1. 

     Amazingly, the inflatable board didn't pop thanks to it being under-inflated. I had made that decision because a maximum pressure wasn't listed anywhere I could find on the Red Paddle packaging, website, or video instructions.

     As I wade out at the hidden Spring Creek takeout, it's marvelous how much faster I'd floated those four miles on the sleek board than if I'd been in a canoe. Carrying the SUP over to a grassy patch for deflation and rolling into a portage pack, I notice that my hips, knees, and ankles are noticeably looser than after a usual two-hour float. Loping up the river trail on the hour hike back to the car, sated on the greens of a blooming stream and it's sheltering trees, I come to know that this river paddleboarding with frequent position changes and faster trips is just what the grandpa ordered.