I really wish that this post would be about seeing Bald
Eagles on the West Branch. That should
have been the highlight of my 2014 trip.
Instead, the story I have to tell involves a trip gone horribly wrong
and the selfless actions of Central Pennsylvania
volunteers.
We track the West Branch weather and river levels every year
for a week or more leading up to our annual sojourn and this year, since I was
paddling solo, I kept an even closer watch on these things. On Thursday, the river level was projected to
be a tad over 7 feet and I was getting concerned. After all, we’d never run the West Branch at
that level and I was going to be doing a solo trip. Thursday evening I got a call from Dave
McCracken, who would be running the shuttle for me on Friday. He wanted to warn me about the height of the
river and the dangerous conditions downstream of Rolling Stone Bridge so we
settled on a contingency plan to avoid having to paddle the worst stretch of
the river.
As it turned out, the river didn’t crest as high as predicted and I decided to make the entire trip down to Karthaus. As Dave said, “keep the canoe pointed
straight and you’ll have no problems.”
The trip from Shawville to the Rolling Stone Bridge was
magnificent. The water was high but not
dangerous. I wore my waterproof gear and
of course, my life jacket(PFD) and exercised all the prudence and river reading
skills that I’ve gained over the years of paddling the West Branch. I also knew that the stretch from Rolling Stone
Bridge down to Moshannon Falls
has the steepest gradient on the river, has lots and lots of big rocks, and
frequently constricts. These factors
combine to create some fast, complex currents and rapids to which you have to
pay attention. Over the years, many of
us have bumped into rocks and taken on water in the “haystacks.” Of course, that was at lower water levels so
I approached the Rolling Stone Bridge with some apprehension.
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| Source:WJAC TV Facebook page |
That apprehension wasn’t reduced when I saw the Emergency vehicle on the bridge and a few men looking upstream. I beached my boat above the bridge and in a few minutes, one of the guys from a local volunteer Fire department had scrambled from the bridge to talk with me. There had been an accident a couple miles downstream from the bridge. Two boaters went in the water and one was still unaccounted for. They had “pinged’ their cell phone and were dispatching boats and a hovercraft to rescue the boaters. The fireman told me that they usually used the hovercraft during low water levels in the Summer and that he had many times walked the river banks below the bridge searching for lost canoeists. Usually, he said, they were kids with no PFDs in places that were too shallow to paddle. After a few minutes, I set back on the river with a description of the missing canoeist and a request to report anything I might find.
An hour later, I arrived at the site where the canoeists had
come off the river. They had started a
fire, gotten their friend into dry clothes, and wrapped him in a sleeping bag:
good steps to prevent hypothermia. I
asked about their second friend. They
had not yet found him.
Other steps that these young men had taken to help their
rescue included paddling to the left side of the river so they could follow the
railroad tracks for help and climbing up the steep, rocky mountainside on the
right side of the river until they could get a cell phone signal to call for
help.
During the half hour I was with these young men, a Zodiac
Raft pulled in to check on the condition of the group. Convinced that everyone was stable, the
Zodiac crew set out on the river to search for the missing paddler. A few minutes later, a second flat bottom
boat pulled into shore to work with the group.
The rescuers asked the young men about details of the accident. I didn’t hear much except that the one canoe
had filled with water and both paddlers had decided to exit the boat. Anyone who has ever been in a swamped canoe
knows exactly how the boat fills with water and how close to impossible it is
to control a water-filled canoe.
A truck had driven in on the railroad tracks on the opposite
shore and the rescuers took steps to get the members of the group to the truck
and then to some place safe off the river.
I was struck by how distraught the paddlers were and how compassionate
and competent the rescuers were.
I ended up setting up camp about a half mile downstream from
where I left the group. I could see the
truck ferrying the members of the group off the river down to Karthaus. I could also see the rescue boats going up
and down the river: one boat along each bank and one in the middle of the
flow. They continued their work until
almost dark and the next morning they were back at their task, this time using
scent dogs on the river and on the shore.
I took my time getting back on the river on Sunday. Overnight, the river had begun to recede and
I wanted to insure that I’d have no problems with the ensuing rapids or with Moshannon Falls.
As I paddled, I came across many people walking the riverbanks. The right side of the river has no roads and
no easy access. I have no idea how they
got there. On the left side of the
river, the railroad tracks veer away from the river so it is not easy to get
down to search the north riverbank either.
Along both banks, the vegetation makes it extremely difficult to effect
a riverbank search. I guess that the
phrase Appalachian Jungle is an apt description.
As I write this on May 21, 2014, the young man who went into the river on Saturday, May 17 has not been found. Everyday since he went missing, hundreds of volunteers… volunteers…. have been searching on foot, in the air, on the river and under water. Everyone knows that these folks don’t have to do this…that they’ve done it many, many times before and that they will undoubtedly do it many more times. They do it because they know it’s the right thing to do…and they know that others would do the same for them if they, or their loved ones were in a similar situation. To me, the fact that so many people will do so much for someone they’ve never met speaks volumes about the compassion, respect and dedication that we humans can have for each other. In the face of tragedy, it might be the only thing to think about.
Outside if North Central Pennsylvania, this story has
understandably received little notice.
However, when folks learn about it and hear some of the “details,” we
are wont to offer our opinions. Opinions
do nothing to help find this young man or to offer solace to his family. The comments on the WJAC TV facebook page
include the predictable “well, they shoulda” and faith based condolences. I guess that is human nature. And, I guess that I am about to do the same
sort of thing. Please excuse me for a
moment while I editorialize….
The first comment that I want to make regards the
temperature of the water. Reports list
it as 41 degrees. I suppose that two
miles below the Rolling
Stone Bridge,
it could have been that temperature. As
fact though, at Karthaus, on May 17, 2014, the water temperature was in the mid
60’s. You can check the graph below. That’s still very cold but let’s not try to
make the story worse by speculating.
Speaking of speculating, WJAC TV is reporting that neither
man was wearing a PFD. I heard that
stated at the riverside, too. Never the
less, I believe that none of us should be engaging in “shoulda/woulda”
dialog. As defense of my belief, I’ve
included a few pictures of our early group trips on the West Branch. As you can see, there is not a PFD to be
found
The young men on their 2014 trip were not much younger than
we were on our trips in the early ‘80’s.
Let us not second-guess. Let us
not judge.
