Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, July 29, 1990 TAG: 9007290025
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: E9 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: KEITH AMMON
DATELINE: FAYETTEVILLE, W.VA. LENGTH: Long
The New River is running at about 2,500 cubic feet per second - "six inches" in the parlance of the Gorge - making "Lower" a solid Class IV on the international white water scale.
In the back of the boat, a river guide is standing for a better look at the route that will lead the boat and its crew to the safety of the next eddy, 50 yards and 20 vertical feet downstream.
"All ahead."
The raft crew begins paddling into the current as the guide drops down to brace against the tubes and place the blade of a large paddle into position as a rudder.
"Keep it up, now. All ahead hard!"
As the crew increases the pace of their strokes, the guide pries hard on the paddle rudder, levering the rear of the boat away from the rocks passing close on the right-hand side.
The raft accelerates toward a curling, roostertail wave and blasts through it, showering the crew with spray. As the river begins to drop even more steeply, the raft shudders and begins to yaw in the push of the current.
The guide leans out over the tube, plants the paddle in the froth and draws hard to fight the push. One of the crew members is floundering on the floor of the raft, knocked down by the impact with the first wave. The rest are still flailing at the water with some semblance of a paddling rhythm.
"Back left! Back left! BACK LEFT!!"
The guide calls for help in fighting the push that is turning the raft sideways in the current, a position that will cause it to flip in the roaring trough of water that looms just ahead.
Some of the crew members react, reversing paddle strokes. The guide continues to draw hard, concentrating on the hazard downstream.
In what seems like slow motion, the bow of the raft swings left and drives into the wave that forms the downstream side of the trough. The crew disappears in an explosion of foam. The guide leans out over the tube and begins a long, forward paddle stroke.
"All stop."
The raft is now riding the smooth, green water in the outflow current of the rapid. The guide counts heads and rudders the boat away from a final obstacle. The crew members - with eyes the size of silver dollars - are panting through grins as they stare back at the maelstrom of "Lower Keeney".
For most of those drawn to the white water of the New River Gorge or the world-class rapids of the Gauley River, a few miles to the north, the trip is a weekend outing.
It is a once-a-year or once-in-a-lifetime outdoor adventure, a blast of river spray and adrenaline capped off with a barbecued dinner.
For others, running rivers is more of a routine. It begins in late March when the New is high and cold. It continues into the midsummer when the sun shines hot and the river level drops, exposing the rocky teeth of the rapids. It ends in late October with the last of the fall releases from dams controlling the flow on the Gauley and the Russell Fork.
Those who work the rivers as guides may take as many as 100 different crews through the rapids in the course of a season. They must be able to take into account the changing river levels and weather conditions and the varying abilities of their white water customers in order to negotiate the rapids safely.
It sounds like a job for a grizzled outdoors veteran. And some are.
But most who guide trips for white water outfitters like The Rivermen in Fayetteville, are not full-time river rats. When the season, or the weekend, is over, they go back to their "real jobs."
Sometimes referred to as "weekend warriors," these guides spend most of their time working as teachers, accountants, electricians and artists. They also spend a fair amount of time driving. The West Virginia white water country is a two- to three-hour drive from Roanoke, Christiansburg, Huntington, W.Va., or Ashland, Ky. It is 4 1/2 hours from Richmond or Cincinnati; seven from Toledo or Washington, D.C.
The record commuting distance at Rivermen is probably held by Roger Shamley, a Chicago police officer who drove 640 miles - each way - to train and work with the company.
The lure is not the money. Weekend guides get paid, but most will tell you what they earn does little more than offset their expenses.
Why do they do it? Scott Robertson, in his seventh year as a guide, said it is because "white water rafting is a disease."
"Some of us get addicted," he said. "This is the only way I can afford my habit."
Scott, 29, and his wife, Mary, are high school teachers in Fort Myers, Fla. When the school year ends, they make the 1,000-mile trek to Fayetteville to guide river trips until classes resume in the fall.
Brian Campbell, 27, commutes weekly from Cincinnati where he works as a purchasing agent for a manufacturing firm.
Brian started guiding when his brother, Steve, founded The Rivermen. Weekend trips double as family reunions for him; brothers Steve, Doug and Howard, and sister Karen all work full time for the company.
For Brian, the reason for running the river is simple: "There's nothing in the world I'd rather be doing."
"It gets in your blood. It becomes almost a part of your identity. You see it in almost everyone who comes down here - it changes their lives."
It's not likely that Scott and Mary would have held their wedding ceremony on a cliff overlooking the New or taken the wedding party on a raft trip if they hadn't been "changed" by guiding.
And Jill Pritchett, 42, a Bluefield, Va., watercolorist, probably wouldn't be painting so many river scenes if she hadn't caught the white water "disease."
"Guiding has enhanced, for me, the beauty of the river," she said. "The power and the energy of the white water is really a challenge to capture in my watercolors."
So, just how and why do these people learn to be white water guides? The "how" is the same for all of those working at The Rivermen. They attend training classes that are held every weekend during the spring. For most trainees, it takes eight to 10 weekends to "top out" and be considered a guide.
The answer to the "why" part of the question varies. For Scott Robertson, it began as what he thought would be "an interesting summer job" while he was attending college. For Mary, it was because she met Scott. Jill Pritchett also decided to train after she started dating one of the Rivermen guides.
Brady Woodard, 54, an elementary school teacher from Barboursville, W.Va., entered guide training nine years ago when his oldest son, Mike, signed up. He later helped teach another son, Scott, to guide.
Those who completed guide training soon learned that the job involves just as much "people handling" as it does boat handling. Mary Robertson, for example, said she found that "being a woman, they don't trust you as much" as a guide.
But the woman is also a teacher, and she found the same techniques that enable her to control a classroom will work when it comes to controlling a crew of customers on the river.
"One of the biggest challenges is building up their confidence to the point where they're going to trust you to guide them in the rapids," Scott said. "Getting them to the point where knowledge replaces fear."
Jill expressed similar sentiments: "I like it when you can take someone who starts out scared to death and by the end of the trip, you've made a paddler out of them."
So it would seem that these weekend warriors are addicted to people as much as to white water. It is that symptom of the disease that keeps them from taking up golf as a weekend activity, or from buying their own raft or kayak and going it alone.
"It's the customers that keep me from burning out on this," according to Scott. "It's sharing the beauty of the river with them."
Brian Campbell puts it more simply: "You get to make new friends every week."
by CNB