TheBanyanTree: Way Down Yonder on the Chattahoochee - Part II

[B Drummond]

After joyfully leaving the rowdies behind I came upon second set of
shoals and the first of many larger islands in the river.  The
problem with islands on a small river is knowing which way to go when
encountering them as often on one side the river peters out and you
end up having to do portage or paddle back upstream and go to the
opposite of the island for passage past the island.  In most cases
you just follow the path with the largest gap or greatest flow.  That
typically puts you on the correct side for easiest passage the first
time.

Remember the shoals mentioned earlier?

Anyone with normal hearing is not caught unaware concerning the
shoals.  You HEAR them before you see them typically.  I can't count
the times I heard them and with each new one to negociate came
trepidation.  Soon the sound was downright discouraging.  By the next
day it was depressing.  By the end of the next day it was almost
nauseating to hear as I approached yet another pulse raiser and worry
furrow-in-the-brow-maker on the longer than expected trip down to
Franklin.

The shoals varied in size, complexity, and anxiety producing level
all along the river.  One of the things that made them loathsome on
this trip was the water level in the river.  The whole state has had
some shortfall of rain this year and especially so in the last few
months.   Lake Lanier, Atlanta's main water reservoir,  the result of
damming the Chattahoochee's upper reaches, has been well below normal
levels for months now.  This affects the river's levels and affects
the amount of obstacles and particularly the difficulty in passing
through the shoals on the river.  One of the other things making the
shoals loathsome was fear of dumping out the contents of and losing
some of the items in the boat.  Then last of all was personal safety,
the least of the risks as far as I was concerned. To put it in a
nutshell, I had chosen a time (unwittingly in a sense) to make this
trip when the river was lower'n heck and therefore the shoals made
for a much more dicey situation than when the river's levels were
closer to normal.

As I encountered the first real challenge in the shoals, the first
one with a true roar preceding it, I had some of my first fears
realized.  Number one,  remember that trial and error thing?   This
set of shoals was one where error dominated.  I chose the wrong path
through the shoals and ended up getting shoved against a large
granite rock just under the surface.  With all the turbulence in the
water around it there was no seeing it, there was only feeling it and
the sickening sensation of the boat pivoting around rapidly from the
high speed current behind it that originally jammed me against dark
gray nemesis hidden in the swirl of brown.  The boat tried to roll
over and I quickly shifted to the opposite side so my weight would
counteract it.  In the process I stepped down hard on two of my
fishing rods and snapped them off clean through the rod just above
the reel. Things began teetering over the edge of the boat and the
boat then stabilized slightly, enough that I could move more toward
the rear,  raising the front of the boat just enough that I, with the
help of a paddle, freed the boat from the rock.  I had managed to  
push the boat and
I out of the precarious part of the jaws of that part of the shoals.

After passing through a couple more gauntlets, complete with more
boat bottom scraping, I finally cleared the shoals and make into the  
backwaters behind them.
There I got a chance to assess the damage and breathe a sigh of relief.

I had lost nothing but the two rods and both were cheap, easy to
replace ones at that.  I had lost some of my confidence and the
belief that this trip would be a cake walk.   All in all though I
came out pretty well.  No leaks in the boat,  still had my camping
gear, still had my paddles and was clear of what, for all I knew, was
the worst thing, surely,  that I would have to endure on this trip.

Then I noticed that darkness was approaching fast so I gave up on the
idea of fishing anymore and began to paddle in earnest,  looking for a
suitable sand bar or some place similar to set up camp for the night.


End of Part II


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