We had just landed and then unloaded our boats. We were wet but it was threatening to get dark and chilly soon, and so all of us sprung into action to make our campsite. Except for one, that is.
Immediately we all reluctantly began to notice it. Our eldest companion, clothed in nothing but a grim smile, drip-dried in the center of the group as we milled around fetching cookware, preparing our dinner, hanging up wet gear, and securing the wobbly picnic table -- general campsite maintenance upon our arrival. It reminded me of the
famous gorilla in the middle of the basketball practice video. Everybody tried to pretend he wasn't there by looking elsewhere as we worked. I know he had a towel, but maybe he was saving it for something else?
It was an awkwardly long time before he was satisfied with his level of dryness and put on some clothes. By then dinner was stewing, tents had been set up and several of us had embarked on the challenging task of throwing a rope over a tree limb so our food could be hung later, out of the reach of critters.
It was Sam's birthday again! We were on the Shavers Fork of the Cheat River in West Virginia in at a lower-than-one-ought-to-be-paddling-it-in-May level, commonly known to my whitewater brethren as
ELF boating (extra-low flow). The frequency of dragging heavier craft (like our trusty EKC Grumman) touched on absurd, but I'm pretty sure we all look back on that trip in 2012 as a very good one.
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| Birthday Boy Poses |
As we typically do in the month leading up to Sam's birthday trip, online river gauges and guidebooks were bookmarked and dogeared respectively as the search for the perfect river to host our weekend ensued. Shavers Fork came up to a prime level one week out, and then dropped to the
minimum recommended level. We had already fallen in love with the idea and so two days later we launched, hoping that the recommenders were river snobs.
They were not snobs. It was too low. But it was worth it.
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| Caught in the act of improper technique . . . no sweat; Stern man has it covered. |
The night before launching, we camped at Stuart Recreational Area, near Elkins, WV, and then pushed into the crystal clear stream from the site. Wade, in his solo canoe, said it looked like good fishing. Wade comes from a family of terrible fisherman, according to at least two of his siblings. Naturally, he'd neglected to bring his pole and tackle.
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| Dragging in the shallows. |
Jeremy and Zack, former camp counselors, elected to captain and co-captain the EKC Grumman, our sturdiest vessel, which had recently been retired from duty at the camp where the boaters had each worked summers for over a decade. The boat itself had a much longer tenure, floating kids of all ages on Cheat Lake near Morgantown for much longer.
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| Wade gets it done and stays dry |
Alex came all the way from FLA for the trip, and he joined Sam as cousins afloat in the Old Town Guide canoe. Pop and I were back in kayaks for the trip -- he in his sea kayak and I in a slicey riverrunner called a Redline. The double-bladed kayakers loaded some gear into the canoes, ensuring that dragging them would be longer and more arduous. Not my problem!
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| SUP: Florida style |
The Shavers Fork delivered stunning scenery and little flatwater -- exactly what we were looking for. Within the first mile we came upon a nice technical drop (class 2-) that required a line from the left shore through a couple holes. I have some memories of other drops, though they all run together at this point. In total only three other drops stand out as substantial, one with a 4-foot wide channel around a dead tree in a big hole, wiggling from the force of the current, and another at least 1/4 mile long with craggy rock cliffs extending from the right bank to the sky. The third, a broken out dam, had benign flatwater above and below (a sign of trouble in many cases) but turned out to be a cinch.
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| One of the many riffles |
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| Belongs on a wall, framed, in the EKC office IMO |
Once again we paddled much further the first day than we thought we would. What else are you going to do in a boat on a beautiful river in the sun with nowhere to be and lots of daylight? It ended up being about 12 - 16 miles through beautiful country. A seldom used dirt road followed up for a bit and most of the 20 or so permanent camps and cottages were for the most part tasteful. Other than that it was just what the doctor ordered -- peaceful, pristine, lush. I think Jeremy and Zack didn't even mind dragging the Grumman through the rock shoals because it meant they were looking around more.
We pulled aside at one point and ate lunch and soaked our Keen-clad feet in the water while Jeremy demonstrated all of his fabulous camping gear for us.
The long day was worth it because we scored a campsite with a picnic table. I have no idea where it is on a map, who put it there or owns it, or if it was legal to camp there. With no buildings in sight, we agreed that forgiveness after the fact is always to be prioritized over permission before.
After everybody had dressed into dry clothes, we cooked. That night, on the bank on the Shavers Fork, we filled a pot with deliciousness that none of us had anticipated. I'm not sure why our
Shavers Stew turned out so perfect (perhaps it was the context) but it was the best one-pot group meal I've ever had at a campsite. We gorged ourselves.
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| A heavenly bend in the Shavers Fork |
The next morning, it was much colder as we prepared to disembark. Pop tried out Wade's canoe and swam before he even got the thing out into the current. He banished himself from open solo boats for life and got back into his comfy 13-footer, soaking wet. He looked chilly.
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| It wasn't cold, but this guy is from FLA |
Our second day went by in a flash, and before we even had a chance to stop for lunch we had reached Parsons, the town just upstream of our take out. When we arrived at the campground just downstream, where our car was waiting for us, we found a group of Bolivian dancers enjoying
the day and swimming in the river. They were from DC and had performed at a county fair in the area the day before. As teenaged performers
flirted with each other, we offered our boats for them to enjoy while
our put-in vehicle was retrieved. They swamped every one of them and we all laughed as they swam them back to us.
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| "Setting up" camp |
We couldn't leave Parson without ordering a ramp burger, and then we
high-tailed it out of there to get Alex to the airport, four hours away
in Pittsburgh.
Git r dun.
