NEAR MISS IN THE WAUTAUGA GORGE

The Watauga River on the Tennessee-North Carolina border is one of the best technical river runs in the Southeast. I’d run it a few times since the mid-1970s. Two previous trips had been in the company of local paddlers who knew the river well. In early April 1996 the gauge was reading eight inches. Half our group had run the river before, but none of us really ‘knew’ it.

We’d been proceeding carefully, scouting the big drops as they came up. We portaged Hydro and rand everything else. We arrived at a steep boulder drop, the last major rapid above Stateline Falls , that some people call ‘Knuckles’. I sat in an eddy while Ned Hughes scouted, then ran. He reported hitting a rock, so I got out and scouted the drop also. The base of the drop appeared shallow, but not dangerous. As I scouted, two other boaters went over. They tagged the rock, but it didn’t slow them up. My own run was a bit farther to the left than the others. When I hit the rock my boat stopped dead. My outfitting gave way, throwing me forward in the boat about four inches. I hesitated, then tried to push myself back upstream with my paddle. The paddle slipped; I lost my grip on it and watched it float away. The boat slipped to the right, then settled into the drop against a left-hand boulder. Water shot against my back and flew over my head. It jammed me tightly against the front of the cockpit.

I was stuck, and in real danger. The cockpit rim was pressing hard against my hips. The deck of my C-1 was so slippery I really couldn’t push myself upstream. The current was powerful enough to knock me over if I didn’t brace myself upright. I was scared, and called for help. Peter Hubbard, who was on shore, threw me a line. This wasn’t going to work. I asked him to move behind me, then I carefully tried to slide backwards without success.

Suddenly a tag line appeared above me. Ned Hughes had paddled to the center of the river and positioned himself on a mid-stream rock. I hung my arms over it, and yelled for the group at river right to work upstream to put more bend in the rope. This improved their ability to support me. Pete, now joined by Kate Heisler and Cindy Otto, started to pull hard. The force pushed me against my back deck, then lifted me back a few inches. My thighs came free. It was time to get out! I kicked my legs back, and slid out of the boat. My wife was preparing to run when she heard the screaming. She saw me slip below the surface and though I was gone, but fortunately this was not so. I swam to shore about thirty yards downstream, badly shaken, but otherwise OK. My full-sized Hahn Munich C-1 was completely underwater and required considerable effort to pull free.

SOURCE: Charlie Walbridge

ANALYSIS: (Walbridge) This incident was a shock. Although I have no illusions that my safety work provides any special protection, I consider myself a pretty careful paddler. At 48 years old, I’m primarily into the scenery and not shy about carrying drops I don’t like.

1. A number of people with experience on the Watauga, including a group of local paddlers who helped recover my C-1, said that the rock has been there a long time. Except for a single prior incident it has never caused trouble. The exception was another big man in a high-volume kayak. I suspect that my long (13-foot) boat, carrying my 240-pound weight, dives deeper than smaller individuals in modern high-rocker designs. I may simply have been too far left. Either way, I did not read the water correctly.
2. It was fortunate that the remainder of my group was equipped and trained for rescue. Several of them had been in my rescue classes, and performed well under the pressure. Ned Hughes, by moving into position on the opposite shore, played a key role in setting up the tag line. He routinely goes to the opposite shore in emergencies  and has played a key role in many rescues. By setting up immediately, rather than waiting for a ‘leader’ to give him orders, he minimized my time in the water. He was on a very small rock, and held onto his end of the rope with great difficulty. My reading and teaching gave me a good idea of what to expect: I knew what was coming and what to do. I did try to keep my sprayskirt in place as long as possible so that water wouldn’t fill the boat. Although I though I’d released the sprayskirt before exiting, in the heat of the moment I did not. I actually came out through the waistband.
3. Normally a stabilization line, rather than a snag line, is used to recover an alert, stable victim. The trapped person holds onto the line and uses it for support as he or she works free. But the adrenaline was flowing and the group simply pulled back hard. It was a bit uncomfortable, but it lifted me enough so I could escape. I was glad to be in a C-1. A kayak would have sunk much deeper and a paddler would have needed to work harder to get free. Although I was only pinned for a few minutes, it could have been much worse.

To those who think that they can’t get into trouble, this narrative should serve as a wake up call. This is a dangerous sport. Potential hazards are not always clearly visible and anyone can make a critical mistake. If you think that river rescue courses are somehow “nerdy” or impractical, this incident showed that the things we teach can make a difference. It is sobering to thing that if this had happened back in the 1970s, I could be dead. Back then we simply didn’t know what to do.