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CONTENTS
HOT
SPOTS
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Rafting Is Not A Spectator Sport
by Lisa
Hofmann
photos by Allison Waltz
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Dimple Rock
We dock against a rock near the bank, which means Becky tries to hang onto the slippery boulder to keep us from floating away. Assembled with the other rafts, we await our turn for Dimple Rock.
We have been warned this is possibly the hardest rapid of the river, surpassing the standard Class 3 designation of the others on the Yach. If you hit this rapid wrong, your raft will slam against a large boulder, Dimple Rock, and dump everyone out of the raft. If you think you'll try to play it safe and veer far right of Dimple, you'll probably hit Pinball Rock, which will ricochet you right back to Dimple anyway. From our vantage point, We can't see the other rafts travel through the rapid.
"Oh, they flipped!" we hear one report.
Another observation: "They're down."
Realizing the increased danger, I gnaw at my nails.
"Is anybody nervous?" Rich asks.
"I'm a little scared." I understate my nervousness.
"I'm excited," Mike replies.
Rich's reassurances still don't quell my worries of being catapulted out of the raft and landing splayed across a rock. At the same time, I realize I haven't fallen out yet, and neither has anyone from our boat. The increased turbulence could mean more fun.
A guide signals it is our turn to take the rapid. Another guide stands on top of Dimple Rock to direct our passage. Other guides are positioned after the rapid with throw ropes and boats to rescue any castaways.
"All forward!" Becky cries. "Mike, give me a back right!"
Our arms pump strong strokes through the choppy water. The guide on Dimple signs that we're doing fine. I dig my feet tighter into the grooves of the raft anyway.
Crashing against Dimple Rock, water explodes into foam sprays. But our raft just brushes the rock. We don't topple, but we still have to battle the clashing currents that hurl water at us and make our ride bumpy. The roughness makes me want to withdraw my paddle from the water, but persistent paddling creates more stability.
We make it through unbruised and elated. It is a conquest. Downstream from Dimple Rock, we look back and assess the damage: One overturned raft. One empty raft. A pair of sandals floating near the bank.
We pick up two stray paddles heading downstream. One of the guides paddles his boat, full of those who fell victim to the river's swells, to the waiting rafts. And they reassemble their crews.
A kind of superiority washes over me in recognizing I succeeded at what others failed. I'm so accustomed to being relegated to the role of the wimp, the last one picked for gym class, that this is a new feeling. But also, I'm proud of myself.
Double Hydraulic
The success at Dimple Rock fuels only excitement, not nervousness, for the last difficult rapid, the Double Hydraulic.
We're the lead boat from here on out, and I think we all feel somewhat like seasoned veterans, leaving the novices in the dust (or water, rather).
We skillfully approach the Double Hydraulic. If we hit it head-on, it could suck our raft into a hole and then pop it back up. We veer correctly to avoid a turbulent ride, but Rich and Mike hope to hit the edge of it to add some excitement. To their disappointment, and surprisingly mine, we miss the rough part.
"We missed it," Rich laments. "We were too good."
By this time, the spirit of rafting gets to me. I'm hungry for a more challenging rapid. But it's nearing the end of the river. The last rapids are fun, but they seem a little too easy now.
Nevertheless, I'm also glad to give my muscles a break, and I'm anxious to get dry. We're in agreement the trip was awesome, but we don't really discuss the adventure until we're at our campsite in Pennsylvania's Ohiopyle State Park that evening.