New River Gorge First Descent

Class V selfie attempt under the New River Gorge bridge.

The New River is ironically named. It’s older than the Appalachian Mountains it carves through at more than 480 million years. But for every paddler at some point, it is, in fact, a new river. That’s what it was in early July for three Keelhaulers, who made their personal first descents of the New River Gorge.

Keelhauler vice president Don Howdyshell led Nick Conway, Javan Robinson and myself down the New for our first runs with Jeremiah Richard making his second trip down the gorge. The paddle started with a meet up at Cathedral Café, a chapel-turned restaurant in downtown Fayetteville, West Virginia, for a large, delicious breakfast before setting shuttle.

The trip was only Don’s third, but as the most experienced paddler in the group he felt confident leading a small, solid crew down—spending days studying his GoPro footage from his first two runs proved useful homework.

After unsuccessfully encouraging Javan to run the staircase seal launch at the Cunard put-in, we hopped in our boats and set forth. For the uninitiated, the water of the New is amazingly warm. Its North Carolina headwaters travel north to the gorge, making the pulsing green water feel like a drawn bath. The level was 2 feet which, according to American Whitewater, “most agree (is) the optimal level … the Keeneys, Double Z and Fayette Station are really stompin’” even though to seasoned NRG paddlers it’s low-flow. In the gorge, 2 feet is about 4,500 cfs, which for those of us who regularly paddle the Stony, Lower Yough and other like runs is about four times as much water as we're used to.

Weaving through the mountains, we passed through Pinball rapid, skirted the edge of Upper Railroad and bobbed down the middle of a few warmups before coming to Upper Keeney, the first of the three Keeneys—the rapids that would offer the tallest waves of the day. Upper Keeney was simple enough, just ride the wave train down the middle and grab the eddy on the left above Middle Keeney, which is where the fun really starts. As each boat dropped into Middle Keeney, it’s stern quickly disappeared. As you paddled in to the first drop, you caught a glimpse of the preceding boat’s stern summiting the giant haystack wave in the middle of the rapid before they quickly disappeared again, and you started your ascent up the beast. As the river pulsed, you might find yourself climbing it as a green wave and launching off the top, or if the wave was breaking you’d find yourself trying to brace into it as you got body slammed into what felt like a brick wall. Good times.

Amidst Lower Keeney rapid on the New River Gorge.

So far, so good. We gathered ourselves, got beta from Don on Lower Keeney and started our approach. We took the mother duck, all-the-ducks-in-a-row approach with Don leading followed by Nick, Javan, myself and Jeremiah running sweep. Here’s where whiplash took full effect. With all the paddlers lined up, inevitably each kayak was a little off the line of the boater ahead of them, with the final boat in the row the furthest off line. Don dropped in a little left of middle. Smooth. Nick hit the crashing curler ricocheting off the top boulder on the left, and he immediately went over. Javan slid down in and was off moving right nicely, while I recognized I was too far left and tried to boof onto the curler and got spun backwards. Jeremiah was so far left of the tongue that he almost boofed the guard boulder itself and got flipped right at the top. Don made it through smoothly, but Nick succumbed to the power and height of the waves and swam. Javan, seeing Don successfully moving to river right, followed suit. I started my turn downstream just in time to get sideways body slammed into the third large wave, brace into it and straighten out to line up for the next one and start working right. Jeremiah tried to time his rolls with the rising waves. Though unsuccessful, his first two attempts gave him just enough air to hold tight until things calmed down. He ended up running the nearly 100-yard rapid entirely upside down and successfully rolled somewhere near the Halls of Karma—an epic exercise in staying calm under pressure. At the end a massive whirlpool reached up and grabbed Javan’s stern, sucking it down and forcing a hard brace, but he was no worse for the wear. We gathered Nick and his Fun, took a hydration break on shore within sight of Lower Keeney to watch the rafts disappear in its waves while celebrating and enjoying the adrenaline high. It was intimidating, exhilarating, humbling and encouraging all at once.

Nick coming through Lower Keeney on his second day in the gorge.

The rest of the run was a breeze. Solid lines (thanks to Don), a few combat rolls to be had by all, some epic (and unexpected) stern squirts by Jeremiah, bluebird skies and warm breezes. After cruising through Fayette Station, the final rapid, we cheered on Nick as he dutifully drank his booty beer and set off to the Overlook restaurant, high on the gorge rim, where we watched the sun set behind the mountains and had a few rounds to mark the occasion. It was the stuff first-descent dreams are made of. A successful run that left everyone feeling empowered and accomplished, topped off with good company and tasty spirits. It left everyone asking, “When are we going back?”

Javan attempts to become one with the New River Gorge.

Ego Paddling

An unlucky soul swims a waterfall after failing to make his roll and missing two throw ropes.

Ego, it drives the world. It encourages great leaders to fight for what’s right, because they are confident in their convictions and their abilities enough to know that their righteousness is worthy of the push to discover what’s possible. They know that the knowledge and principles they possess suggest their personal judgment calls warrant consideration, contemplation, and maybe even adherence to, or personal adoption, by a greater audience.

Yet ego also can motivate the irrational, inaccurate, even dangerous man.

In my few modest years as a whitewater kayaker I’ve learned that ego does both to every paddler, whether they are the former or the latter.

Often, the result is the same for these two types of paddlers. One pushes hard, and fast, setting their sights on the next big run, the next big drop and the most challenging rivers. The other is more methodical and seeks a more linear progression curve. The first boater often fails to focus on sharpening basic skills and techniques and suffers for it, and the results are predictable – injuries, swims, damaged (or lost) gear or worse. The second boater takes multiple runs to master a descent, all the while practicing and perfecting strokes and body English, accumulating knowledge before moving up the difficulty scale. You know these boaters. Chances are, you are one or the other.

I’ve also learned that it’s the impatient, inexperience paddlers pushing the envelope who also disregard the opinions of their peers and find themselves in unwanted situations – like getting a beat down for their troubles. I see it often. Whereas the most pain the more patient boater is likely to receive comes from the jabs and barbs cast at them for being afraid to push the edge, or for being deemed lame by their peers for running the same stretches repeatedly. I see that too.

Ego drives them both, for in their own minds they are right and the other is wrong. Recently, among my small paddling group boaters have been finding themselves on one side of the line or the other. Criticism flies. Each points the finger at the other, saying they’re the ones who are wrong. Sadly, we are all human. And as much as we want to believe that being kayakers makes us holier-than-thou for loving the Earth and seeking out the mystical Zen that aligns our bodies and minds with the flow of the river, we are wrong. In the end, we are made of dirt and stardust. A mix of grit and wonder; mostly rough, sometimes shining yet often unkind sacks of loosely organized meat. Judgmental gossipers, we all are.

There are paradoxical benefits to both boaters. Without pushing the envelope, there can be no progression. But one cannot push the envelope and truly progress without first correctly gathering the skills necessary to do so.

Few can strike the balance and find the advantages that each paddler possesses and add them to their repertoire. Cautious optimism, a desire to improve, the will to take calculated risks (and know when not to) and the patience to hone the techniques required to enter the kingdom of the Class IV-V boater. Think Rafa Ortiz, Dane Jackson, Pat Keller, Stephen Wright, and others.

So, what do we do? How do we learn from the lessons these two boaters can teach us? We listen to each other. Try that seemingly boring ferry or eddy move. Push the envelope a little. 

As Maynard James Keenan once said, “I’m the man, and you’re the man, and he’s the man as well, so you can point that fucking finger up your ass!”

Return to the Cuyahoga River Upper Gorge

A little less than a year ago, I made my personal firstdescent of the Cuyahoga River Upper Gorge, more commonly referred to as the Sheraton section in downtown Cuyahoga Falls. At the time, this Class IV (dare I say Class V at normal flows?) was running at a low, first-descent friendly 300 cfs. It was my first introduction to some of Ohio’s best whitewater, and my first time running waterfalls.

But it was low, and I felt somehow unaccomplished. We returned with a good crew to tackle it at the next, more-challenging level of 500 cfs. Myself and Jeremiah Richard were making our first run of the Cuyahoga River Upper Gorge at this level. Fellow Keelhaulers Don Howdyshell and Jeff Cramer were there to provide guidance and support, and Sheraton Shaolin Nic Williams threw in support as well.

I’ll let the video tell the story, for I can’t do it justice in comparison. Watch it here.