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The map showed it as 10 chains which, translated, means one hell of a long portage. The river made a huge horseshoe turn creating a large penninsula. There were elevation lines everywhere and they were close together. The portage was across the peninsula about ¾ a mile from the waterfall. We had trouble finding the trail as it was overgrown and, a short way in, it split into trails going everywhere like fingers on a hand. Others had been looking for a shorter way. We decided to split up and each take a trail and meet back at the junction to discuss what we found. The trail I chose seemed to go on forever but it was in fairly good condition as it wound its way through the forest, up over a ridge, and down to the river. It was a perfect put in as it stopped at a gravel bar. Looking upstream I could see the river come out of a narrow canyon. The rapid looked runnable but I was so far away I could not scout it. I have a fanny pack with water, first aid kit, survival gear and a pair of binoculars. I said a mild curse word as I realized I had left it in the canoe. I returned to the fork in the trail and Dana and Mary were already there. Mary’s trail had lead her to a high ridge where she looked down and saw Dana signaling for her to go back. He said he had found a campsite with a short portage trail over the tip of the peninsula. The take out he described sounded a little hairy but he said we should get the boat and he would meet us there.
We rounded the curve of the river and there was Dana sitting at the lip of the falls on a huge granite dome. There was a small cove so we snuck up to him and threw him a line. I unsnapped the York pack and threw it up the solid bank and it came slidding back to the canoe. Mary got out of Bear and held the lines while I threw gear up to Dana. After we dragged Bear up to the top we carried the gear to the campsite while Dana hiked back to get his boat. It was a beautiful camp that night with the roar of the water fall making sleeping very peaceful.
The next morning I scouted the rapid and it looked runnable and there was quiet water to the left of the river. We loaded the gear and ran it with no problem and as we pulled in the small cove I could hear the rapid ahead of us. We had discovered that if it sounded like a freeway at rush hour most rapids had a least chance of being run. The sound of a freight train was assaulting my ears. We scrambled up the rock looked down the canyon and had one of those “OH Sh…..” moments. It was a steep-walled canyon no chance to line or portage the canoes. The sides of the canyon closed in forming a narrow passage and the amount of water flowing through it was tremendous. Nothing but solid white, undulating water. Huge waves, but fortunately no visible rocks. If you have ever seen the haystack on the Rio Grande it was like that but on steroids. Down the river I could barely make out the rapid and the beach with portage trail I had looked up river from. We took out the binoculars and tried to see if there were any obstacles. We could not get back up stream so we had no alternative but to run it. I reminded my paddling partners “if we go over, go down the rapids feet first” advice I never seem to be able to manage when caught in rapids. I knew we would take on water the first rapid and was afraid we might not be able to maneuver. If we did tip over we should be dragged through the canyon by the current.
This is exactly the kind of water Dana doesn’t like to run in his solo. Our big tandem handles it much better so we sent him off first. He looked like a match stick bobbing through the first rapids we saw line up the boat and disappear between the waves in the second rapid then he was paddling to the beach and bailing water from his boat. I realized that I had been holding my breath while he had made the run.
I tightened my life jacket and took a deep breath and said “let’s do it.” We paddled up stream as far as the cove allowed us to and then headed into the current. We hit the first wave and I saw the bow of the boat rise up and water splashed over Mary’s head, then we raced down the trough between the waves and up again with water coming over the side and landing in my lap. I felt the boat twist and flex in the power of the river and up we went again. I tried a stroke and the stern was either out of the water or there was no resistance in the foam my paddle sliced through. We came down between two other waves and for some reason I thought we need to move the boat more to the right. I did a draw and nothing happened. The river had us in its power and was taking us where it wanted to go. We got through the first chute and all too soon we were entering the second rapid. Not having scouted I yelled above the roar “are there any rocks and remember being extremely relived when I hearing “All clear” When we joined Dana I was really surprised that we had takn on very little water.
This was the biggest fastest water I have every run and we were very, very fortunate that it was straight and had few rocks. Lady Luck was on our side that morning. As we stood there coming down from the adrenaline high I understood I had learned another lesson.
When there is a 10-chain portage and a lot of alternate trails there is a reason.
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