Bruised Ribs and Egos on Stonycreek Canyon

Punching Showers rapid on the Stonycreek Canyon. Photo credit: Matt Jackson

The spring of 2016 proved generous to paddlers in eastern Ohio and western Pennsylvania, as one of the region’s great river-play runs ran often. I’m talking of course about the Stonycreek Canyon in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where they must get enough rain to fill the Quemahoning Reservoir in order to get the scheduled whitewater releases to turn the Stony Canyon into a playboater’s wet dream.

Typically the reservoir runs low and stops releasing by early summer. Last year, the Stony was running into July. Every-other weekend, members of the Keelhaulers Canoe and Kayak Club became fixtures in the shuttle parking lots at the ballfields and Carpenter’s Park.

On one June weekend the reservoir had enough water to release on both Saturday and Sunday, and a group of us turned the rare summer occasion into a weekend of paddling and camping. I had spent the winter and spring getting comfortable in my new down-river playboat, a banana-colored Fuse 64, and so every feature on the Stony became a challenge for surfing, spinning or just dropping into it for a beating. I had more than a dozen sessions playing in Swimmer’s on the Lower Yough, surfing the various waves at 271 on the Cuyahoga and anywhere else I could find a hole or wave to do some playboating work in.

Needless to say, I was feeling especially confident – despite really not having any playboating moves – when  I dropped into the surfer’s right side (river left) of the Third Sister rapid on the Stony Canyon to test my mettle. The rapid is a ledge drop that creates a wicked hydraulic at all levels, with a narrow playspot. I wasn’t entirely unprepared for the ride, but I wasn’t expecting to get so stuck that several times the thought “I am never going to get out of here” would run through my head. I was side surfing pointing river left. Then I was rodeo-riding into a side surf pointing river right. Then I pulled a flat spin. And on, and on it went for what felt like an eternity (but was really between 2 minutes to 3 minutes max). The upstream pull of the hole made it impossible for my meager skills to get me to surfer’s left, and freedom, where a break in the bedrock creates a tongue that provides the weary (and informed) paddler an escape. I managed to ride the hole, much to the entertainment of the small crowd enjoying lunch on the bank, without flipping until I muscled my way out to surfer’s right. The ride was certainly uglier than a dead pig wearing lipstick, but in my mind it was a success. I survived without rolling or swimming, and I got a few spins – unintended or not – in for posterity’s sake.

That day we paddled all the way down to Greenhouse Park, where we further exhausted ourselves playing in the wave for a few more hours as the last of the day’s water trickled away. We all had a stellar, confidence-building day and were ready for day two.

Pulling a stern stall in the Stony play wave at Greenhouse Park. Photo credit: Jeremiah Richard

Our micro-Keelhaulers crew included Javan Robinson, Josiah Colvin, Nick Conway, Jeremiah Richard and Pete Costello. It poured down rain that night, adding extra juice to our already amped-up attitudes for the weekend.

We embarked on our second day feeling ready to conquer the Stikine. Fortunately, it was just the Stony. I’d spent the night around the campfire egging on Javan, who has shown some incredible growth in a short time paddling. I kept telling him that if he dropped into the Third Sister hole, I would aim for a repeat performance. I kept telling him it wasn’t that bad, but it would be an epic ride. Javan isn’t one to shy away from a challenge, and given his physical fitness level of somewhere between 1980s Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bruce Lee, he can almost always muscle his way out of a tight spot.

As we approached the hole, we were all paddling single-file. Javan was up front and dropped straight in to start surfing. His Dagger GT sliced back and forth, the bow only submerging periodically before bursting back through. But it was clearly more of a bucking Bronco than a pony ride, and he started struggling to control his direction. That’s just when Josiah was lining up to drop in. Javan darted left as the hydraulic starting moving Josiah sideways, and bam! The arrowhead-shaped bow of the GT found soft flesh between the padding of Josiah’s PFD.  

Josiah was in pain, yet no one but him knew just how much. We took a moment to gather the group, and then we continued down the canyon. Josiah’s moans grew louder, and he slowly drifted towards the back of the pack. At one point, I think I heard him mutter “My ribs are broken.” As we drove home, he started complaining the force of the wind with the windows down made his sides hurt. A few days later, he learned that he’d left the canyon with bruised ribs thanks to the unintentional contact at Third Sister with Javan’s bow. He had to take a brief hiatus from paddling, but in the end we all learned two valuable facts. Never drop into a playspot if Javan is already in it. And the Third Sister is the ugliest sister! So if you ever paddle with our small group and hear someone jokingly say “Go for his ribs!,” now you’ll know why.