High Speed Low Drag Gunpowder
Masemore to Sparks (13.1 miles), 2/26/05
Falls Rd gauge 2.05, Glencoe gauge 1.80
OC1 - Topher Reynolds, Tom Wilhelm, c2g, Mike McCrea

Celebrating Tom's birthday with a long daytrip down the low-water
Gunpowder a select group of Duckheads undertook a familiar run
surrounded by familiar faces. This familiarity may have imparted the
day's zen-like quality. Although it is true that you never paddle the
same river twice my canoe seemed to know the way; I needed only point
the bow downstream and the boat magically picked clean lines seemingly
on its own, with minimal guidance or correction necessary.

Hazards of the day were few. A single riverwide strainer soon after we
launched, easily portaged. A complex sweeper-strainer-limbo
combination, easily portaged. Or inadvertently run.

Paddling in the lead I came upon this tricky piece of wood and current
and, still in a zen-like trance, backpaddled to a crawl to cogitate the
possible passage and consequences. The potential route was tight and
would require threading the needle and executing a series of must make
moves, in current, all in the blink of an eye.

The portage, on the other hand, was a convenient dry-foot cobble bar
pull over. Deciding at the last second that discretion was the better
part of valor, especially this early in the trip, I opted to portage.

Or not. By the time my slow moving thought processes had reached that
decision I was in the current and was committed to the compressed
slalom run through the woody peril. Once again my trusty riverhorse
picked perfect lines and when I finally opened my eyes I was sitting in
an eddy on river left, dry and upright.

Looking upriver I espied c2g next in line and calculated that I could
set safety for him and, once he was through, play paparazzi for Tom and
Topher. Taking station immediately below the deciduous dilemma I hid
the throwbag behind my back, not wanting to present a distracting
visual whammy.

C2g picked his line, slalomed the tightly spaced uprights perfectly and
waited until there was but one remaining obstacle to play tree hugger.
Catching a sweeper trunk at gunwale level in the meat of the current
c2g refused to let go of either his boat or the tree, performing a
beautiful slow-motion back layout until he was stretched in midair,
hands grasping the tree, feet grasping the boat and nothing between his
body and the water except air and gravity.

All good things must come to an end, and c2g's Flying Wallenda
impersonation was no exception. Compelled to perform his dismount when
the upstream gunwale finally submerged c2g executed a final half twist
and affected a face first splashdown. I launched the throw rope even as
he hit the water, but he had self-rescued before the rope released from
its arc and dropped across his boat. Call it poor decision making on my
part - throwbag or camera? Camera or throwbag?

I think I'll buy one of those cheap waterproof disposable cameras and
attach it the throwbag. I'd hate to miss an opportunity to capture
c2g's next hang-in-there-baby move on film.

Tom and Topher had no such difficulties, catching the easy eddy and
hauling their canoes across the gentle beach. The question remains -
if a c2g falls in the river and no one takes a photograph did he really
make a splash?

The remainder of the trip - and most of the trip remained, as we had
gone perhaps two miles at this point - was tranquil and increasingly
pleasant, as Sailor Jerry and friends made appearances at frequent
muckle ups and we reached the Sparks take out as darkness descended.

The Sparks take out is fast loosing favor as a preferred access point.
The once benign egress on river left has become increasingly difficult
and the pull of the earth seems especially strong in that localized
area. The mud and wet snow did little to improve my traction as I
attempted to haul my canoe up the hill, and the fifty gallons of water
that somehow accumulated unnoticed in the stern was a definite
impediment. Sailor Jerry, although now a good friend and boon
companion, didn't help much either.

Somehow, with more than a little help from my friends, the boats were
racked and gear was packed and my canoe was delivered to the top of my
snow-covered driveway. A final toboggan ride down the drive and another
day of Duckhead merriment drew to a close.

Denouement - I awoke early the next morning with Sailor Jerry still
very much on my mind to find my canoe still sitting in the middle of
the driveway, full of frozen, mud-covered gear. But, ya know, I can't
think of a better way to say "Happy Birthday Tom".

Thanks Mike!

Always enjoy reading trips local to me. We've been running the Codorus all
Winter long. Can't wait till this snow melts!
Mike
wrote in message
oups.com...
High Speed Low Drag Gunpowder
Masemore to Sparks (13.1 miles), 2/26/05
Falls Rd gauge 2.05, Glencoe gauge 1.80
OC1 - Topher Reynolds, Tom Wilhelm, c2g, Mike McCrea

Celebrating Tom's birthday with a long daytrip down the low-water
Gunpowder a select group of Duckheads undertook a familiar run
surrounded by familiar faces. This familiarity may have imparted the
day's zen-like quality. Although it is true that you never paddle the
same river twice my canoe seemed to know the way; I needed only point
the bow downstream and the boat magically picked clean lines seemingly
on its own, with minimal guidance or correction necessary.

Hazards of the day were few. A single riverwide strainer soon after we
launched, easily portaged. A complex sweeper-strainer-limbo
combination, easily portaged. Or inadvertently run.

Paddling in the lead I came upon this tricky piece of wood and current
and, still in a zen-like trance, backpaddled to a crawl to cogitate the
possible passage and consequences. The potential route was tight and
would require threading the needle and executing a series of must make
moves, in current, all in the blink of an eye.

The portage, on the other hand, was a convenient dry-foot cobble bar
pull over. Deciding at the last second that discretion was the better
part of valor, especially this early in the trip, I opted to portage.

Or not. By the time my slow moving thought processes had reached that
decision I was in the current and was committed to the compressed
slalom run through the woody peril. Once again my trusty riverhorse
picked perfect lines and when I finally opened my eyes I was sitting in
an eddy on river left, dry and upright.

Looking upriver I espied c2g next in line and calculated that I could
set safety for him and, once he was through, play paparazzi for Tom and
Topher. Taking station immediately below the deciduous dilemma I hid
the throwbag behind my back, not wanting to present a distracting
visual whammy.

C2g picked his line, slalomed the tightly spaced uprights perfectly and
waited until there was but one remaining obstacle to play tree hugger.
Catching a sweeper trunk at gunwale level in the meat of the current
c2g refused to let go of either his boat or the tree, performing a
beautiful slow-motion back layout until he was stretched in midair,
hands grasping the tree, feet grasping the boat and nothing between his
body and the water except air and gravity.

All good things must come to an end, and c2g's Flying Wallenda
impersonation was no exception. Compelled to perform his dismount when
the upstream gunwale finally submerged c2g executed a final half twist
and affected a face first splashdown. I launched the throw rope even as
he hit the water, but he had self-rescued before the rope released from
its arc and dropped across his boat. Call it poor decision making on my
part - throwbag or camera? Camera or throwbag?

I think I'll buy one of those cheap waterproof disposable cameras and
attach it the throwbag. I'd hate to miss an opportunity to capture
c2g's next hang-in-there-baby move on film.

Tom and Topher had no such difficulties, catching the easy eddy and
hauling their canoes across the gentle beach. The question remains -
if a c2g falls in the river and no one takes a photograph did he really
make a splash?

The remainder of the trip - and most of the trip remained, as we had
gone perhaps two miles at this point - was tranquil and increasingly
pleasant, as Sailor Jerry and friends made appearances at frequent
muckle ups and we reached the Sparks take out as darkness descended.

The Sparks take out is fast loosing favor as a preferred access point.
The once benign egress on river left has become increasingly difficult
and the pull of the earth seems especially strong in that localized
area. The mud and wet snow did little to improve my traction as I
attempted to haul my canoe up the hill, and the fifty gallons of water
that somehow accumulated unnoticed in the stern was a definite
impediment. Sailor Jerry, although now a good friend and boon
companion, didn't help much either.

Somehow, with more than a little help from my friends, the boats were
racked and gear was packed and my canoe was delivered to the top of my
snow-covered driveway. A final toboggan ride down the drive and another
day of Duckhead merriment drew to a close.

Denouement - I awoke early the next morning with Sailor Jerry still
very much on my mind to find my canoe still sitting in the middle of
the driveway, full of frozen, mud-covered gear. But, ya know, I can't
think of a better way to say "Happy Birthday Tom".