Date: 2003-11-02
To: Down The River With Chandler
Miles today: 0.0

Well, what's a nice Band-Aid for the so-called "reentry" blues thatleave an AT hiker feeling a bit confined and restless?How about a little more nature, in all her autumnal glory? Yeah, yeah,that would kiss it and make it feel better.So I had a date with paddling buddies Chandler and Louisa Stewart evenbefore I finished the AT. I guess you could call them part of my "ATexit plan"...If you recall, Chandler and Louisa came to hike with me from LaurelFork Gorge in Tennessee for a couple days. I nearly killed Chandler onthat trip, as he had a serious cold and bronchitis, and that first daywe'd climbed straight up, out of that gorge. So I had every reason toanticipate retribution. Nonetheless, I wanted to get out on the river.River trips are alot like AT hikes. First of all, you use alot of the same gear - synthetic clothing, tents, bags, sunscreen. Secondly, they both are a JOURNEY - yougo somewhere, there is something new to see around every bend, youdon't make a loop. Even better than hiking, the BOAT (not your feet)carries all your stuff! I've always LIKED that part!This particular river, the Lumber, is a real sweetheart. This cleanand protected NC River Trail cuts 115 miles through the sandy bed ofan ancient inland sea (the central Sandhills). The river bottom issand, not muck. The River itself is a 115-mile-long NC Lumber River State Park,forest-buffered on it's banks - a full 80 miles of water have thenational "Wild and Scenic River" designation.The Lumber is very clean and surprisingly cold. Rainfall and runoff arefiltered through the surrounding sand and reemerge as subterraneansprings feeding the river. On its trip through the sand, the waterpicks up it's characteristic "tea" coloring from the tannins in thenearby plants and trees, particularly cyprus. I didn't know cyprus wasa "deciduous conifer," but they do shed their needles annually,Chandler told me.After spending Halloween night in Lumberton with Chandler and Louisa(the latter dressed as a witch to service neighborhoodtrick-or-treaters), the next morning I loaded up my backpacking gear plusa paddle and a PFD into Chandler's Cherokee. We set out well quiched and caffeinated (thanks,Louisa!) to do homage to the Lumber. We met the rest of the group -Chandler leads trips for the Sierra Club - and there was a dozen of usheading out, in eight boats. Three kayaks, five canoes. The put-in was off Turnpike Rd near Wagram, NC right about the placewhere the swift and narrow river headwaters of Drowning Creek (lovely name,eh?) evolve into the swift and narrow Lumber. I hadn't been paddlingfor a good year (see, I had this hike thing going...) and was a littleapprehensive. All that water we'd had during our hike had to goSOMEWHERE, and this looked to be the very spot to which it had allflowed. The Lumber was ripping, and water levels were high from recentrains. So high that the Lumber often spilled it's banks and wentstreaming out into the oak, cyprus and tupelo gum forests.Eight boats fully loaded with camping gear eased out into the river. Ifelt the first tug of the current grab my boat, and then we were offto the races. Some think flatwater paddling is not exciting. Sufficeit to say, this bendy river had my full attention for most of the day.I remember my heart pounding with adrenaline for the entire first halfhour.Any wooded river can be an obstacle course of fallen trees, branchesand floating debris, called such lyrical names as snags and strainers.You never know what you're going to get either, because differentobstacles reveal themselves at different water levels - that fallen trunk youeasily floated under last fall now might be a mere six inches abovethe water, and today you can't slip under. But what do you do? The current is barking, pushing you forward atramming speed. If you can't backpaddle your way out of the situationpronto and find another hole, the urgent water may well push youbroadside and try to suck you and your boat underwater, especially ifone leans upstream away from the obstacle (eeeek!) as one is wont todo.Or the current would like to "strain" you through the branches of afallen tree, or push you sideways into the bushes (read: poison ivy,hornet's nests, fish hooks) on the banks of the river. Another fun diversion is backpaddling on the current as the boaters infront of you line up for their turn at the one tricky "hole" throughthe multiplicity of obstacles ahead. I think I may have bumpedChandler out of position once as he deftly nosed his canoe though aparticularly difficult spot. At least it was deft before I messed uphis tangent. I later accused him of throwing sticks and leaves into my boat asrevenge, but he simply shrugged and said he believed I needed to stayout of the bushes more and find the middle of the river.Actually, it all came back rather quickly (thank god!), and afterawhile I was able to relax and enjoy the silent, magical beauty ofthis special river. Chandler pointed out the papery globes of waspnests and the cries of the wood ducks, and we saw many of thesepainted waterfowl (as well as kingfishers and blue heron) rising outof the neighboring swamps at our approach. The sinuous Lumber twists and turns on itself, and in a number ofplaces the high water flowed through the nearby forest itself. Some ofus chose "overland" routes, usually led by a surprising, 14-year-old river rat named Drew, a young man with excellentcraft control and river instincts. I followedyoung Drew through enchanting water forests of thickened gum andcyprus trunks, sometimes getting hung up on the cyprus "knees,"sometimes running into brush, thorny greenbrier and - just like hiking- numerous spider webs. Pppppthffftt! Chief used to tell me webs weregood for the skin. By the end of Day One, I had spiders building websin my cockpit, and a glowing complexion.We bypassed the Chalk Banks Camp and selected the further JasperMemory Camp, a primitive, canoe-in only site. After a fun little logthat about swept one boat under (they popped up, miraculously, on theother side!), we found the camp around the next bend at river right, skating in right atdark. I set up my tent by headlamp, and soon we had a small, cheerfulfire going in the fire ring (the rangers bring in lumber!) and supperin our hungry bellies. I ate hiker carbs again. Liberally. To hellwith rabbit food!A highlight, besides Cassiopeia and a brilliant half-moon in thenight sky, was wildlife biologist Tim, who told us of hiswork studying the bears in NC's eastern coastal swamps and wildlife reserves. The comeback there hasbeen stupendous, and bears are reaching record size because they don'treally hibernate during warmer coastal winters. Though they becomeless active, there is plenty of food (mast, cornfields, bean fields)all winter, unlike in the mountains. One hunter shot an 800-pounder last year. But some "guides" bait the bears with a huge block of candy - aglued-together conglomerate of licorice and other sweets boughtcheaply from candy factories. This lures the bears but inflicts thosethat don't get shot with a new scourge - cavities. Tim took picturesof bears with abscessed gums, due to rotten teeth. As a result ofdocumentation, the practice of candy-baiting has just been outlawed.Fascinating.The next day we had a leisurely breakfast, again around the campfire,and even managed to be paddling by 9am. The bright morning made for perfectpaddling this fine November day in the mid-South, floating into sunnypatches then back into cool, leafy caves. Gentleman that he is, Chandlernever did extract revenge for that AT hike back in April. Although my back ached and I could hardly lift my arms, though thewebbing of my thumb was deeply raw and blistered and I needed a craneto get my stiff joints out of my kayak, I hated to see the river end.Everyone had been pleasant company, the sun was still shining and thepeace of nature still beckoned.But I knew one thing, after today. It was okay to be home.