Old Thrills on the New River
Rambo’s got nothing on Heather
Her name was Heather, and I knew from the minute I saw her that she was a bigger man than I was. She was our whitewater tour guide on the New River, which is paradoxically one of the oldest rivers in the world.
Dayna and I knew after our first whitewater trip on the Ocoee that we wanted more, and the New River in West Virginia was our answer.
Any notion that we knew what we were doing as whitewater veterans was quickly but kindly dispelled by Heather, who called us and our raft mates ‘flying squirrels’ for reasons that would later become evident. I preferred that nickname to what she called her husband (John Rat) or her dog (Squeaky Rat). Apparently, she had a predilection for rodents.
Jenna Elfmans in distress - Call US Weekly!
The raft we rode in on this trip was considerably larger than the one we’d rode in in Tennessee, and we had a much larger crew. There were perhaps 8 guests total, plus Heather. Two of our raft mates were from Jackson, MS, and were in West Virginia for a massive family reunion. A family of 3 was from Alexandria Virginia. The father worked for the National Safety Transportation Board. The daughter had just graduated from college with an acting major, and looked remarkably like Jenna Elfman.
Being so old, the New River has had plenty of time to carve a gorge out of the surrounding alluvial plain. The New River Gorge is called ‘The Grand Canyon of the East’ – and although there seem to be many places that call themselves that, the epithet in this particular case was fitting.
We’d signed up for the full day trip, so I had plenty of time to enjoy the scenery. Though the action on this river was a bit spread out and left time for sightseeing and swimming, the rapids between the calm stretches were incredibly intense and satisfying.
Thanks to an eddy and some curious river dynamics we ran one particular number several times. We’d run it, the person in the front on the right would be sucked out the boat, and then we’d swing around to pick them up, change positions in the boat, and do it again. Everyone going into the front right corner thought they’d be able to stay in the boat, and almost no one did.
Tennesse State Quarter (minus the foot)
This had happened 3 times before my turn, and yet I was still surprised when I got sucked in the water and under the boat. On that run I wasn’t the only one – 3 others went with me.
Dayna proved so good at pulling people back into the boat (she’d use her whole body for leverage in a rather pretty feat of gymnastics) that Heather pronounced her the best rescue operator she’d ever seen.
Her skills very nearly saved her from being thrown overboard, but despite an incredibly limber back bend in midair gravity and water pressure prevailed and Dayna also made a trip under the boat. When she popped out of the water laughing I knew all was well.
After a full day of similar thrills we pulled out of the river just past the country’s largest single span suspension bridge (featured on the Tennessee state quarter) pretty well exhausted.
