Of all the things in the world that I procrastinate about – and there are a few – packing for a trip is the one thing I try to put off the most.
My wife finished packing yesterday and clearly has better Tetris skills than I do. She did a week in Tokyo last year with just a carry-on.
Granted, I’m not traveling as light as I had planned from a photography standpoint. I had this grand idea to switch to a mirror-less primary like my wife shoots with, but I forgot to actually buy one and make that switch.
So out rolls the Pelican. This thing is bomb-proof, but sitting empty it’s already halfway to the 10kg weight limit for carry-on bags. I’ve had to check it once, just once, on an overbooked flight back from shooting a wedding in San Francisco and was on pins and needles the entire time.
I’m trying to cut everything that’s not necessary but I can’t bring myself to leave the 500mm telephoto at home and miss out on obligatory Puffin close-ups. At 2000 grams, this lens is case and point why I’m over the limit.
For my checked bag (autocorrect thinks “cracked” bag and may be correct) I can have up to 23kg in it, but nothing breakable.
I find myself weighing things on a kitchen scale, 50 grams here 75 grams there, and so forth. Did you know a AA battery weights 25g? That really adds up and not in my favor. After taking the batteries out of everything and moving it to my checked bag, I have ended up with a bunch of batteries zip tied together in what I can only imagine looks like a redneck dirty bomb on an X-ray machine.
The trick is to see when they are weighing things and make some modifications once I’m in the tunnel to board. My backpack and Pelican collectively weigh 20kg, the allowed limit for steerage like myself flying coach. However the split is uneven due to the weight of the hard case. By switching my three lenses to my backpack and being exceedingly careful with it for weigh-in, I can switch them back to the safety of the Pelican once I’ve made my fighting weight.
So I’m off with 41kg of gear and clothes for 10 days near the arctic circle.
I seriously need to make the switch to mirror-less.
First off, don’t run the full length of Section 9 of the French Broad past Stackhouse when the river is low. We ran it at 550 cf/s or probably less and we basically pulled the raft most of the way during this section. You can do it, but it just isn’t a good time. Check the gauge at Marshall before you set out, as that will give you a good idea of where water levels are. They’re generally the best in the Spring, but rain can change things pretty quickly.
Initially this was a pretty straightforward activity, until the moment before our shuttle left and we realized a critical blunder. In our haste to get the shuttle vehicle loaded up, we forgot two critical things – paddles. I still can’t believe we both forgot them, but next time my tried & true checklist method will be in place. Luckily Dan, our shuttle driver from Bluff Mountain Outfitters, was kind enough to give Kate a ride back to the campsite to pick up our two paddles and our spare. Perhaps she cleverly planned this all-along, because around the time she got back I had just finished inflating and prepping the boat, checking all our gear, and was ready to launch.
Kayaker’s ledge, we skirted on the left, since I don’t have any interest in just tipping the raft stern over aft onto rocks for the sake of one 5′ drop. I’m glad we took the route left of the island, as the rapids there were some of the best wave trains of the trip. I’m hoping I got some good video of that part, but it seems Windows 10 doesn’t ship with a video player installed – really Microsoft? (see the finished video below)
We stopped for lunch by tying ourselves to a dead tree in Windy Flats. A footlong sammich tastes great after a long morning of rafting. My wife was kind enough to pack us a six-pack of Yeungling, and our inflatable cooler kept them nice & cold. A train passed by and by special request blew his whistle in the valley to a great resounding echo. Thanks Mr. Engineer!
Things got a bit sideways on Frank Bell’s rapid. Kate and I were both exhausted, and I was fiddling with the GoPro when I should have been setting us up for a proper path. I also skipped a step and didn’t scout the rapid before we went over it, and we ended up much more at the mercy of the river than I would have liked. Let’s face it, a Class IV or V rapid in a boat you can technically procure at your local Walmart is more intense than it is in a 12 person guided Cadillac raft. That’s part of the reason I do it, for the extra challenge of doing it myself rather than just being along for the ride. It’s our expedition that my fearless First Mate Kate and I planned, supplied, and executed ourselves.
The water levels being crazy-low ended up causing us to get stuck on the ledge of a sideways 5-6′ drop among a series of drops at Frank Bell’s. We missed the main flow at the left, which was totally my fault for a number of reasons, and the water is just too fast at that point to retrace. So here we are, trying not to go directly over a dry rock and the strong current just wants to pound the boat into the rock. A worst case scenario would have been for us to flip over the rock sideways and take the 5-6′ plunge to the rapids below. The pool below wasn’t very large, very deep, or where we would have likely landed. I’m imagining the “discussion” we’ll be having once we’re out of harm’s way that I will totally deserve, and trying as best I can to un-lodge the raft. Since we were literally stuck between a rock and a hard place, we had to choose the least of two evils. The route to the left was wide enough to fit our raft through, but at best we were going to hit it at an awful angle. The route to the right was totally out, nope, not going to fit a raft. In this fleeting moment of insanity, I stepped onto the rock, pushed the raft down the slightly less evil route and somehow was able to belly-flop back into the raft before it miraculously went over the drop more-or-less straight and upright.
We’re past the most dangerous portion, but we’re not out of the woods yet. Frank Bells always seems to be one set of follies setting you up for your next set of difficulties. I look back over and Kate is giving me the best Grumpy Cat impression I’ve ever seen. She’s sitting in the front of the boat, which technically is now the back of the boat as the river flows, and she’s sitting under the main flow of the small waterfall that we just passed through. Again, we’re stuck, albeit in a much safer place, but not able to move forward just yet. Pushing off rocks with the paddles wasn’t working for us, so I again stepped out to push us loose. I barely made it back into the raft by way of another well-timed belly-flop, and had turned us around so that we were facing forward again for the next section of the rapid. The rest of Frank Bells Rapid was a fantastic wave train that made good and sure the raft was full of water. The river was surprisingly warm, so we had that going for us, which is nice.
Just before all the corporate rafters got out at Stackhouse – their boats can’t make the route from Stackhouse to Hot Springs when levels are low – One of the raft guides from French Broad Rafting makes this snide comment in our direction,
“Over there folks, you see what happens when you go to Walmart and try to do this.” ~Elitist Cadillac raft guide
This moron neglected to remember us helping get some of his rafters get unstuck from various rocks along the way. I had an answer for him when everyone in his group got out to go home for the day at the halfway point.
"Onward! … To the Walmart!" ~Ballancio
Oddly enough, almost nothing on our boat actually came from Walmart, but the raft is technically available there, though I think you have to order it from their website. Again, the main reason I do this route in a small raft is quite deliberate. On top of that, running this route again any time we want costs us nothing more than the cost of fuel to get us here, and not hundreds of dollars per raft ride.
How did the raft hold up?
When we turned the raft over back at camp, I was shocked at how well the bottom had held up. This magical boat from Idaho is the Intex Mariner 4 that can be had for just under $250, with free shipping, from RubberBoats.com The fact that it had a hard floor is something I’d never tried before, and was not necessarily sure that the added weight would be worth it. It also has an inflatable keel that runs the length from aft to stern to keep the raft from bending in half when going over rapids. As we got toward the end, the water in the boat was causing my end of the floor to roll up and hitting rocks without it was definitely a less pleasant experience and more taxing on the bottom of the raft. The 16 plastic slats it shipped with it were nice, but I had a hunch that they were heavier than treated 1″x4″s, which turned out to be right. My miter saw, electric sander, and I had replaced the plastic slates with treated lumber night before we left for Hot Springs. If you end up picking up one of these, I highly recommend the plastic-to-wood conversion, as it saved 155g per slat adding up to about 3.5kg (5lbs) saved overall. Aside from tools I already had, it cost around $25 for the 4 – 1″x4″x12′ treated boards needed to complete the job.
We’re looking forward to soaking in the natural hot springs across the street this evening to relax and sooth all our aching parts.