Chopper on the West Branch

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.

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.