Boat Buying

You may be wondering what I do in my free time. For the first couple months of my employment with NOC, I couldn’t really answer that question because I simply didn’t have any free time. I worked six or even seven days a week. Rare was the day in which I did not go rafting. All the paddling for work made the only real hobby available in the Nantahala Gorge (paddling) rather unappealing. If I had an opportunity to spend a few hours high and dry on shore, I took it. But as the season went on, I started to envy my friends who could boat to work. Finally, I too started kayaking the Nantahala.

The season winding down has been a mixed bag for my new hobby. On the bright side, I have more free time and am far less exhausted after work. However, boats are harder to borrow because so few people are still around. Thus, in order to maximize what time I have left living on-river, I decided to buy my very own boat.

At first, I thought it would be easy. I heard plenty of stories of people dropping a hundred or two hundred dollars on a big bucket of plastic for a first boat. I went online and searched around for used boats. I found plenty available, but when I started asking more knowledgeable boaters about which ones would be good beginner boats for me, I faced a crushing reality. Whitewater kayaking is not a sport popular with small people. Boats are built primarily for men who weigh at least fifty pounds more than I do. While I didn’t think that was such a big deal, I assumed I could outfit any boat to fit me, my friends warned me that paddling a boat that was too big was a quick way to guarantee I would not enjoy the sport.

So I searched and I searched for a small boat. In the beginning, I was very insistent about staying in my price range (low), and I took a long time to research a boat before contacting the seller. Of course, this limited my options, and I saw a lot of boats sold before I even had a chance to make an offer.

Finally, while browsing the used boat ads online, I found the perfect boat. Without going into too much detail, it’s a very popular design used by paddling instruction schools. The boat I found is the smallest manufactured, designed for youths and smaller paddlers. It was being sold by a paddler moving out West who had never really gotten into the sport, only taking the boat out a dozen or so times. It had a few battle scars from close encounters with rocks, but nothing significant. It was also $600.

I almost passed it up completely. That’s quite the chunk of change to spend on a toy, but I talked it over with the local boaters who unanimously declared that it was a great boat and a bargain at that price. I contacted the seller, figuring they could be talked down.

They could not. I very nearly wound up in a bidding war. The seller had another interested buyer. I could drive over to TN that day and see the boat, but the seller threatened that it would only be worth my time if I was prepared to offer more than $600. I checked in with the staff of the Outfitters’ Store at NOC. They confirmed that $600 was a bargain, but warned not to go above $750. I told the seller that I had cash and could come immediately. The seller agreed to meet in two hours, I hopped in a friend’s car, and we were off like a rocket.

After a few stops at various ATMs to acquire the necessary cash, we arrived at the designated parking lot to await the arrival of the seller and the boat. Turns out, the seller was a girl almost exactly my size, which was a very good sign. The boat was slightly more used than I initially anticipated, but still in near-perfect condition. Most importantly, it fit like a dream. I was ready to buy it, but scared to open negotiations, afraid the only direction they would go was up. Instead, I just whipped out a pre-counted stack of bills and handed it to her.

Instead of counting it, she just asked how much it was. I told her it was six hundred, she nodded and asked me if I wanted a skirt as well. I did. The skirt doesn’t fit me, but I plan to sell it. She also gave me some extra foam to use in outfitting the boat. Could I have driven a harder bargain? Possibly, the other buyer may have been a myth. But far more importantly, I finally have a boat of my own.

At the time of writing, she has not yet been paddled, but she has been thoroughly admired by the locals. People here are so nuts about boats that one neighbor identified the boat with his eyes closed, just by feeling the hull. A few tried to get in the boat themselves, but none of them could fit comfortably. Currently, she’s sitting in my shed, and tonight she was utilized as overflow seating (when the bed and hammock were both in use). I’m still suffering a bit of sticker shock. It’s tough to spend that kind of money when you earn minimum wage, but I am beyond excited to join my friends “goin’ boatin’”.

For the curious, my new boat is a 2013 Dagger Mamba 7.6.

Guide Pride

Experienced guides like to say, “You’re only ever between swims.” Still, though all guides expect to swim at some point, we pride ourselves on sticking with our rafts and not having unintentional out-of-boat experiences. Unfortunately, today several NOC guides on the Nantahala took a serious hit to their collective pride, myself included.

Six guides were assigned to two ducky (inflatable kayak) trips, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. These were my very first ducky trips, and odds were high that I would swim. A duck is a far cry from a raft in terms of stability. The trip leader was certainly not expecting me to make it upright all the way down. At the put-in, he had the entire group wish me, “Happy Sailing!” The kids probably did not pick up on the sarcasm. While I did end up in the water, I was not the only one. Three guides went swimming, and one even did it twice. Thankfully, I did not swim twice, but I did swim the Falls for the very first time.

The first guide swim was at Quarry Rapid. There used to be a very big wave there, but it was eventually washed out. Disgruntled kayakers then re-built the wave this season, and though it is a fun hit in a raft, it has rightfully earned the nickname, “Ducky Slayer.” Indeed, today it was the site of quite the train wreck on the morning ducky trip. Two ducks flipped and were stuck in the wave, a guide then attempted to knock the boats free but instead wound up flipped herself. I followed, and luckily coasted over the flipped boats, straight over to the headmaster of the school group who arranged the trip, who was swimming about twenty yards down the rapid. I rescued him and moved on, thankful to rescue someone else instead of myself.

That was the only guide swim on the first trip. I ran the Falls just fine my very first time in a ducky. It was the second time that got me, but it was the second time that got quite a few of us.

Quarry Rapid was, once again, troublesome. Another guide flipped in a similar manner to before, with boats stuck in the wave preventing the guide from hitting a good line. But the real problem on the second trip was the Falls. The guide who had first swum at Quarry swam a second time at the Falls (but did just fine through Quarry during round two), and so did I.

Ever since I started guiding, I have been petrified of swimming the Falls. People have died there. Not often, of course, but it is possible. The water is freezing, and everyone who knows me knows how much I dislike being underwater. Swimming the Falls has been a nightmare hanging over my head for months, and finally it happened.

At first, I thought everything was fine. I hit the Green Tongue and rode it down to Bottom Hole. In a raft, hitting the Tongue is hardest part. After that, Bottom Hole is usually gravy. But in a ducky, that’s where it all went wrong. I lost my angle, waited too long (a fraction of a second) to correct, and then the boat flipped and I was swimming.

It wasn’t terrible. It was shallower and rockier than I expected, which was a little nerve-wracking in terms of making sure I didn’t get too banged up or, you know, drown, but I held onto my paddle, clambered back into my raft, and went on. Still, I got an earful of laughter from the trip leader. As soon as I went in, I heard him shout, “Better start swimming! We don’t throw ropes to guides!”

It was a tough day on the river for guides, and while we did not get ropes thrown to us, at least another whitewater tradition was dispensed with. Typically, when a guide swims, they owe the rest of the guides on the trip a “Swim Beer.” But since swimmers are so common on ducky trips, the swim beers are often foregone. Too bad for the three guides who did manage to come through today with their pride intact!

Nanta-Hell-Yeah!

Several times over the last few months, I have been assigned as a guide on a ducky trip. This concerns me a tad because, aside from running stack, I have never gone down the Nantahala in a ducky. Of course, I know the river pretty well and could probably guide a ducky trip without too much trouble, but it would ease my mind to have done it with some more experienced guides before I start taking guests down.

In any case, I have skillfully avoided actually going on a ducky trip. Usually I'm moved to a fully-guided rafting trip, which is more in my comfort zone. Well, I avoided them until last week, that is.

A school group booked a ducky trip for 120 students. That's right, one trip had 120 young people in single, inflatable kayaks. Okay, not everyone wanted to be in a kayak, so two guides were assigned to rafts. One raft led the trip, the other followed behind as the sweep boat.

Who led the trip? I did. It was the first trip I ever led, and I led a massive horde. Not only that, but we had a ton of rain that day and the night before. The river was up nearly a foot. At the put-in, it was impossible to see where the ledge of the boat launch was and where the river began. Normally, we put the boats in and spend a few minutes practicing strokes. This time, we put the boat in and were almost immediately swept away. Forget the Nantahala, we were rafting the Gnar-nahala!

About a mile above the falls, an experienced guide paddled up to my raft to talk over running that rapid in high water. "This is the highest you've ever seen this river," he began, "Watch out, the falls can flip a raft with this water."He went on to remind me to catch the eddy immediately below the falls in order to set rope for possible swimmers who would follow me. There would be no rope set for my raft. We were on our own.

Coming into the falls, disaster almost struck. Just above the rapid, there was a paddle floating in the river. I set off after it, but by the time I managed to get it in my raft, my line for the falls was way off. I tried to save it, but it was too late. We were too far to the right, and I was about to hit the falls sideways and possibly flip. I straightened out as best I could at the very last minute, but Top Hole was too powerful and it immediately sucked us in sideways. We paused for a second before we spun backwards into Bottom Hole. I braced for impact, along with my crew.

The wave came, but we stayed upright. I turned the boat around and caught the eddy, just in time for the duckies to come down after us. All's well that ends well, and that was one epic rafting adventure!

Stack, Again

So I finally ran stack again. It was quite the adventure, again. This time, when we went to the concrete beach, we found a five-man raft and about a dozen duckies (inflatable kayaks). We piled the duckies on top on the raft just like Jenga-blocks and pushed off into the river.

Our construction immediately fell apart. We dove in after the boats and dragged them back to shore. Then, we re-constructed the craft in the water, and I tightened my PFD. We set off towards the falls.

I was sitting on top of the mighty vessel, leaning all the way off the raft in order to get the tiniest tip of my paddle in the water. My friend was guiding in the back. How he could see where we were going, I have no idea. We skirted expertly around Top Hole, and then we hit the drop into Bottom Hole.

The rafts rocked and tilted dangerously. I clung onto the ducky I was perched atop. The rafts shifted. My friend was momentarily buried under them. Then, the bottom raft slipped out from under the duckies. "Oh no," I thought, "We lost one!"

The professionally responsible side of me instantly want to jump into the raft and save it, but my instincts for self-preservation stopped me. My friend, and supervisor, however, did care about my own self-interest in saving myself. "Bail into the raft," he called, "Bail into the raft!"

I bailed into the raft. Paddle in hand, I leaped off a stack of duckies into the raft. Mid-flight, I prayed to make it into the boat.

I did. With one paddle, I guided the boat back to shore and the take-out eddy while my friend chased the duckies downriver. "Mas-ter guide!' chanted everyone on shore, as the stack fell apart and the guide gathered the boats as they drifted.

Running stack, the adventure never ends.

Visitors

I have officially hosted my first crew of visitors to the Nantahala Gorge. It was a lovely weekend, filled with fun, excitement, mishaps and one out-of-boat experience. Three friends traveled to see me, two from SAIS in DC and one from Peace Corps (currently in Georgia). I expected the SAISers to show up on Thursday, and the PCV to join us on Friday. That did not happen.

The DC crew, busy bees that they are, didn't leave DC until rush hour on Thursday night. I tried to stay awake to greet them when they arrived, but I didn't quite make it. I thought it was an eight-hour drive from DC to western North Carolina. Turns out, it took them eleven. Even worse, when they finally arrived at four a.m., they couldn't find my cabin. Telling them I lived in a barn wasn't descriptive enough. So they slept in the car, and I met them the next morning after we all traveled to the outpost where my phone actually receives service.

That night, once my friends had sufficiently recuperated from their journey, we all went to a local bar to hear some bluegrass. "Isn't a fun Friday night in the South going to a hoe-down?" pondered one SAISer. I hope bluegrass was close enough. Meanwhile, the PCV was stranded in Georgia, due to extreme weather conditions. She arrived the next morning.

Unfortunately, she did not arrive quite in time to join me and the DCers on my morning rafting trip. That trip was quite the adventure. Another raft cut in front of us going through the second-largest rapid on the river, and instead of mowing them down, we wound up stuck on a rock in the middle of the rapid. In order to free the raft, I had to get the weight out of the boat. So I, along with two guests, hopped out of the boat and onto the rock. The current quickly grabbed the raft and we all flung ourselves back into the boat. I was terrified that someone wouldn't make it and would fall into the river, or get stuck on the rock, but tragedy was averted. The rest of the trip was fine, once we all resumed our seats and redistributed paddles. In fact, one guest told me that she had been rafting on the Nantahala six times, but this was her favorite trip!

Back at NOC, the PCV arrived in time for introductions and a quick group lunch, then she hopped on my afternoon trip. Nothing as exciting happened on that trip, though we did have one deaf guest. She was actually a much better paddler than some of my hearing guests, and I was glad to have to the opportunity to guide her boat. Several other guests have mentioned their desire to take down deaf friends and relatives, but no one was confident that it could be done. Well, I am happy to report it can be done fairly easily.

Immediately after I was released from river duty, we all piled into the DCers' rental car and drove over to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Our plan was to see the sun set from Clingman's Dome, the highest peak on the Appalachian Trail. Unfortunately, it was rather cloudy and we could barely see the sun. Still, it was a nice (albeit short and vertical) hike.

The DCers had learned from their trip down, so they left rather early on Sunday. The PCV stayed long enough for us to laze about downtown Bryson City, doing what Peace Corps volunteers so often vividly dream about: eating. We had ice cream sandwiches, Oreo cheesecake, and elk burgers (yes, in that order).

All in all, it was a great weekend for me, and perhaps a slightly terrifying experiment in outdoorsy-ness for my city friends!