The ground in the Appalachians has been saturated from heavy rains the past few weeks, making my favorite creek run frequently. Big Creek is in the far northern reaches of Smoky Mountain National Park and has, by far, the best summer time swimming hole in the region (Midnight hole). Yesterday I met my kayaking buddies (John Webb, Todd Vinsant, and Thomas Krajewski) for a quick afternoon run. I love this river because the entire upper water shed lies within the park, meaning that no roads (therefore no cars) ever cross the drainage basin. This makes for water quality rivaling some of the crystal blue rivers I saw while in New Zealand. The put-in is a two mile hike upstream of the campground, so it also steers the light-at-heart to other more accessible runs. The day was going perfect. We were getting through the biggest class V rapids as a team, setting up safety while each person took a turn. Some of the rapids would take 30-45 minutes for the whole group to get down safely. The biggest rapid (and most technical) is called Action Alley because it consists of 6 class V drops back to back to back. I decided to go first for the last two drops (this one is called Baby Gorilla...aren't the names fun?). Everyone was set...Todd was at the very bottom with a rope and Thomas was towards the top setting safety in case I missed my line completely. The rapid has a tricky lead-in with the main drop (about 8-10 feet) falling onto some cushioned rocks. The landing zone is about 6 feet wide and all the water kicks violently to the right against a bedrock wall. Immediately following this nasty looking falls are two more drops containing some big keeper hydrolics. My approach was perfect and my boof stroke was flawless, but upon landing at the bottom, my boat kicked right and I reached out my paddle to brace against flipping. 200 pounds of bones, polypropylene, and plastic moving with such momentum is a lot to stop with just one shoulder. I felt a pop. Damnit...I thought. Shoulder is out...AGAIN. Except this time it was my right shoulder. (I dislocated my left shoulder about eight months ago.) I did not flip over, however, and had to run the next two drops with just my left paddle blade in the water. Todd couldn't tell that anything was wrong until, miraculously, I got in a eddy across the river from him and screamed the news over the roar of the river. The next 30 minutes was, in retrospect, a text book rescue. Todd is a practicing EMT-IV, John is an RN, Thomas is a wilderness first responder, and I am a certified Wilderness EMT (plus I have been through this once before.) We had to figure out how to get me to the other side of the river. John jumped in the icy water, swam across, and bear hugged my boat to stabilize it. Todd threw a rope across the river, and Thomas tied it to my bow loop. On three Todd pulled, John stabilized, and Thomas ferried as support in case I flipped. I cannot thank these guys enough...it makes a HUGE difference getting in this situation with your best friends. I knew that they would do whatever it took to get me to safety. After 4 attempts to reduce the dislocation, Todd finally weaseled the ball back into the socket. I joked with him because in the ambulance, EMT's are not legally allowed to mess with any dislocations. This was his first one, and I know secretly he was excited to get the experience.
I walked away from soccer after my ACL reconstruction, and I am sad to say that I am going to walk away from my class V boating career too. I am too young to risk wrecking my shoulders even more, and I was happy to have my last run with my best friends. My dad gave some good advice: as we age, our hobbies ebb and flow. Maybe I'll take up surfing next. Rest and relaxation are on the agenda for the next few weeks. Here are two pics from the day...John is in the red boat dropping into Midnight Hole, and Todd is in the orange boat in the thick of Action Alley.
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