Where to begin on Thurmond Bridge Rapid? It marks the beginning of the Lower New River up until late June or early July. For most people, it’s not that big a deal. Unless you are me. In a kayak. With little experience. One memory stands head and shoulder above the rest. That’s right, one shoulder. Mine. I decided to learn to kayak during my first year white water raft guiding for Wildwater on the New River in West Virginia.
I got a killer deal on a boat and spray skirt and I was off. Never let anyone tell you that all you need is a roll and you can kayak. Kayaking fundamentals go a long way toward ensuring having fun in your hard boat more than anything else. Also, it helps to keep as many variables in your favor as possible.
But, lacking much in the way of fundamentals, I forged ahead Thanksgiving day, 1991. That marked my first (and last) paddling expedition outside the regular rafting season. I had so much gear on, I failed to stretch and I definitely did not want to roll. All you hair boaters out there, stop snickering. Mom dropped my brother, Christopher, and I off, we loaded up and headed out to Thurmond Bridge Rapid to warm up before we headed down the Lower New River. I wound up dropping into the wave there. I can’t remember the exact level, but it was up from the 1500 cfs I paddled the Lower New that summer. Because I did not want to roll, I leaned way downstream into the wave, which wasn’t all that big. I continued to lean downstream and continued to brace, putting tremendous stress on my shoulder joint until it gave way.
I floated downstream upside down in my boat. I was angry. And I did not realize I dislocated my shoulder. I wet-exited from my kayak and swam to shore. I went to put weight on my shoulder as I climbed up on the rocks and felt a fair amount of pain. I told Christopher that my shoulder really hurt. He asked if I dislocated it. I said that I didn’t know.
Waiting two-and-a-half hours in the waiting room for treatment confirmed that I did dislocate my shoulder. Good times. Looking back, if I had been more confident in my abilities and more comfortable paddling in cold weather gear, I doubt I would have injured myself that way. It wouldn’t be the last time I learned that lesson, but I’ve managed to do that kind of thing less frequently as I’ve aged and mellowed.
Except for that incident with the nail gun, anyway.
My motto: If you don’t blow it up to make it float. I’m not paddling it. I’ll stick to rafting and punching big holes, giggling over roller coaster waves and being able to climb back in should I fall out!