Shadwell and Back

I had a great weekend of kayaking. I was on the water so much the last three days, I haven't had time to post anything. So I'm doing a weekend's worth of posts in one day. This is from Saturday, July 29. I went to the Woolen Mills dam to take a few pictures and met two other people who were putting in with intentions to paddle to Shadwell. My yak was strapped on top of JeepYak as usual, so I decided to tag along.

This was the first time I had ventured downstream of the dam. Let me tell you, if you have never been on this trip, you should. The Rivanna is a totally different river on that end of the dam. There is more of everything down there. More rocks, more birds, more fish. When I crossed under I-64, there was noticeably less trash. The only river booty I came back with was some fishing line I cut from a tree limb. Don't underestimate the destructive force of those who want to see our river turned into a landfill, though. I did run into large items that won't fit in my kayak. Things like tires, ice chest's, and a large metal box held against some rocks by the current dotted the river bottom the whole way down.

The two people that turned into my inspiration for this trip headed out a few minutes before me. I caught up to them at one point while they were resting in the eddy of some rocks. They told me to continue on in front of them because there was a couple of blue herons and a green ahead of us. The birds were flying further downstream every time the paddlers caught up to them, and the nice people wanted to make sure I had a chance to see them. Paddler's are so thoughtful, most of the time. Thanks! The birds were beautiful, even though I didn't get any pictures of them.

Crossing under I-64 into the unknown. I have never been downstream of I-64, so it really is the unknown. The bridge here is kinda like an entry way into the less spoiled and untamed portion of the Rivanna. Crossing under it, I was a little worried some piece of trash from the road high above me would crash into my head. I'm always a little nervous going under bridges because people love to chunk things out of their windows while crossing a bridge. I don't like the idea of being some weird headline about a kayaker getting beamed in the head by a bottle under a bridge.



See what I mean by more rocks? This area was a lot of fun to wriggle through. Down stream from this area was a large, relatively deep pool in which I encountered a fish I have never seen above the dam...Gar. I was able to get a picture of one, but it looks like a dark colored dart in the water, so I'm not going to bother posting it. The further downstream I went, the more gar I saw. Sometimes I would see one facing upstream but not moving. The large fish was just idling in the stream looking pretty freakin cool. If I looked as cool as a gar in the water, I'd have chicks all over the place.

I stopped just short of reaching the bridge in Shadwell. A large group of geese were being disturbed by my thrashing about in the water (I prefer to call it paddling) and knowing I was turning around anyway, I decided to let them rest and began my trip back upstream. A number of places warranted a refreshing walk in the warm water since I don't paddle up whitewater very well. I stepped in a few holes that left me submerged to the bottom of my PFD. My cell phone was in a pocket on my vest, so in the best interest of keeping it dry I placed it in the watertight (riiiight) enclosure at the back of my boat along with my camera and keys. I thought I was doing the right thing, even though I never got more than my waist wet.

On the trip back upriver, I once again crossed paths with the two kayakers that let me pass earlier to see the birds. They were enjoying ice cold and refreshing water (something I didn't have since I wasn't planning on going out) on the bank. I paddled close to the edge and confirmed with them it was, in deed, gar I was seeing and we talked a little about the birds and the conditions of the river further downstream (where I had already been). I said goodbye to them then paddled to the next shallow and fast area where I got out and walked. Thank God for amphibious shoes!

Toting my boat behind me over the rocks I reflected on the reason I love plastic boats so much. It was cheap and extremely durable. Since most of my trips are out and back, I do a fair amount of walking and dragging my kayak over sharp rocks. The only downside of a plastic boat is at the end of a full day of paddling, I have to lug it on top of JeepYak. Not very easy with confetti arms.

Crossing under I-64 was actually a happy moment for me since I was so thirsty and my arms felt like spaghetti. But curiosity caught the better of me, as it usually does, and I took a short trip to the left (river right) just before entering the pool at the base of the dam. This little area was full of very cold water and enough trash to keep Oscar the Grouch happy. As I paddled up this little creek I realized it was runoff from the city. After seeing all the trash behind me throughout the day, I became rather depressed and sad. That is the first time I have ever left the water feeling worse than when I went in.

I got out of the water and hauled my boat across the rocks up the steep hill at the end of Market Street. When I finally arrived at the top I opened the watertight hatch to find a pool of water in the so called watertight compartment. At the bottom of that pool was my cell phone. The camera was fine, but my cell phone was toasted. What a way to end a shit filled day on the river. Oh well. You know what they say, "A bad day on the river, beats a good day licking your own ass."

Fair winds and following seas.