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.

10 Whitewater Kayaking Terms to Know

Beater (noun); also, to beater (verb)

Below are 10 whitewater kayaking terms every paddler should know.

1.       Swimmer (noun)

a.       A transitional period; when a kayaker fails to roll upright and swims out of their boat.

b.       YOU. You are a swimmer. Never forget that.

2.       Kayak (noun)

a.       A vessel, commonly plastic, used to navigate rivers, lakes, oceans (see sea kayak, whitewater kayak, et al.).

b.       Home. Your kayak is your home. Don’t you want to stay in your home?

3.       Paddle (noun) to paddle (verb)

a.       A stick-like tool with a thin, long shaft and wide, flat blades at each end.

b.       Otherwise known as that thing that you lose all the time and other people have to fish out of the water for you.

c.       Also, To paddle (v); to flail ones arms wildly in an attempt to maneuver a kayak.

4.       Boof (verb)

a.       A paddle stroke used at the lip of a drop or water fall to lift the bow of one’s kayak vertically to clear the base of the drop.

b.       The sound you make when you miss your boof stroke, slam your bow into the drop and face plant into the base of the water fall.

5.       Bow (noun)

a.       The front of a kayak.

b.       To take a bow; what you do when you nail your boof stroke.

6.       Stern (noun)

a.       The rear of a kayak.

b.       The look on your face when you have to fish a swimmer out of the river for the third time in one day.

7.       Eddy (noun)

a.       Unidentified man, possibly a criminal, because everyone constantly yells at you “Catch Eddy!”

b.       also, a location on the river, created by a large obstacle (such as a boulder), where the water is calm and a swimmer (you) can escape the current.

8.       Wave (verb, noun)

a.       Kayaking maneuver performed when going over a sick water fall in front of a big crowd.

b.       Also, a feature on the river used by playboaters to perform tricks in their kayak.

9.       Hole (noun)

a.       The thing in the top of a kayak one uses to crawl into it

b.       Also, an inescapable feature on the river that you never seem to avoid

10.   Shuttle (adjective)

a.       To drive oneself from the river trip take out point to the put-in location.

b.    Eternity; see also, limbo

Underrated Wave in Munroe Falls

The wave is downstream of two water treatment plants, so after a heavy rain expect some unpleasant odors. 

There's a little-known park-and-play surf wave in Munroe Falls, Ohio, at Brust Park on the Cuyahoga River.

The gentle wave is at its prime when the USGS Old Portage gauge is reading between 900 cfs and 1,100 cfs. Unfortunately, the gauge is several miles downstream, so the reading can be deceiving if there's been a lot of rain, but it's the closest gauge we've got.

The wave forms in the tiny remnants of what was once the Munroe Falls Dam, which was removed around 2005. It has decent eddy service at the right flows, but it is shallow, so if you roll expect to scrape your blade, and possibly you're helmet!

The Munroe Falls wave is great because it's gentle and wide, so it's good for beginners to get a feel for front-surfing and side-surfing with a low probability of rolling. Downstream of the wave is a large, flat pool. And the parking lot is about 100 feet from the wave.

Need more convincing to try out this underrated play spot? Check out these photos.

The wave has room for a max three surfers.

If the river's high enough, the wave hands out flat spins like candy.

Winter flows are best, as it's not rain but melting snow at the headwaters that provides most of the flow.

Yes, that's a large Nomad side-surfing.

It's shallow, so try not to roll.

Fun times.

Whitewater is Magic

Whitewater kayaking is magical. Finding the balance between man and water is a dance. And when the rhythm is just right, there is no feeling like it.

I've been spending a lot of time surfing the 271 wave on the Cuyahoga River in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Last year ill health kept me out of a few sessions, so I got to pretend to be a photographer. Here are a few of my favorite attempts at capturing the magic there.

Cheat Canyon First Descent

Matt, AKA "River Ninja," John "El Presidente," Hull's Angel Jason and DBP admin Jivin' Javan.

Blazing sun cut across the crisp, cold morning air. Sharp blue skies were punctuated by the undulating mountains of West Virginia. The put-in for the Cheat River Canyon was as deserted as the bare branches of the winter trees. But there was no snow; only four boaters and enough water for a low-runnable paddle down the Cheat Canyon on a cold Sunday morning in October.

For three of us, it was our first descent of the canyon. Our group leader was the unshakeable Jason R. A founding member of Hull’s Angels, the initiation for joining his paddling group is to beat up a member of the Keelhaulers. Fortunately, we had him outnumbered at three-to-one. So he agreed to guide us down the canyon after having spent countless days on the Cheat (including the two days before our trip).

Jason has been paddling big water for a few seasons. Just weeks before our trip, he’d already had numerous marathon runs on the Gauley River (upper, middle and lower runs). The Tygart Gorge, Lower Big Sandy and New River Gorge were all old news to Jason. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he started calling specific named rapids on the Cheat Canyon “no-name” or “choose your own adventure.” Maybe because we had him outnumbered as Keelhaulers that was how he took a shot at the club-boater rivalry. Of course, we were grateful when he would rally us before the big ones – Teardrop, Coliseum and Pete Morgan – to show us the lines gracefully and flawlessly.

We had fewer than four combat rolls and no swims. Our paddling group consisted of just John Banach, Javan Robinson, Jason and myself. We made it a day-trip, so counting the long shuttle we spent at least eight hours in a car for maybe three hours on the water. It was beyond worth it. The Cheat Canyon is a special place where green water meets red rock, purple mountains, blue skies and of course seemingly endless frothy whitewater. The picture of the Class II approach into the Canyon from the put-in at Albright, where ghostly pillars stretch across the river without a bridge deck to give them purpose, is forever burned into my memory.

For three of us, it was another notch on our rescue belt. For me, the Cheat was my second personal first descent for 2016, and it was by far the biggest. Another epic trip that I will never forget. I can’t wait to go back for Cheat Fest in 2017 and get more days on the water in this beautiful piece of Americana. 

The view from the take out bridge at the Cheat River Canyon.

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.