The Bluegrass Wildwater Association:

Newsletter of The Bluegrass Wildwater Association July August 2006
Celebrating Our 30th Anniversary!
In This Issue:
Prehistoric Times
Back In The Good Old Days
Happy Birthday BWA--many more!
Thanks For The Memories
Where Are They Now?
Bravado.....and Age
The BWA And Food
Thirty Years of BWA Fun-damentalism
Some snips of BWA history....
My First BWA River Trip
It Was The Tribe That Kept Me Sane
BWA’s Most Colorful Character Of All Time
A River Runs Through It, No SH**
This I Have Learned
Class…Class…Class…SHUT UP! And Thank You!
Reflections….
30th Reunion News
And Much, Much, More!
The Bluegrass Wildwater Association:
30 Years of Good Paddling,
Good Times, Good Deeds,
& Good Friends.
The Bluegrass Wildwater Association has turned thirty years
old this year. That is something that those who helped start it
and those of us who have made it work over the years are
proud of. According to our original by laws the object of the
BWA was ”to encourage enjoyment, preservation, and exploration of American recreational waterways for man powered
craft”.
BWA members through the years have done many things to
accomplish those goals. With our clinics, roll sessions, safety
classes & seminars we made it possible for those in Kentucky
to become paddlers and enjoy it in a safe and responsible way.
With our river clean-ups, support of such groups as American
Rivers, West Virginia Rivers Coalition and American
Whitewater and participation in the Kentucky Rivers and
Streams Assessment, we have done much to preserved and
enhance our rivers and streams. Our members have explored
and paddled rivers in North and South America, Asia, Africa
and Europe. They put together an expedition to explore the
Jatate river in Mexico. They were part of an expedition to
China to explore the Tiger Leap Gorge of the Yangtze River.
We have a rich heritage that most clubs would be envious of.
But also add to the above the National Paddling Film Festival
and the Russell Fork River Festival (both fund raisers for river
causes), our nationally recognized newsletter, innovations like
a CD loaded with information for our students attending our
Spring Clinic and many other things. You realize that to accomplish all this we have had some very talented and involved
members. But is has been more than that. True, we have had
those who have been good leaders, good paddlers, good
artists and so on, but what the BWA has been is an opportunity
Continued on pg. 2
Continued from pg. 1
for many members to achieve personal accomplishments
while doing things for adnd with the club. By being an officer of
the club you are exposed to what is needed to plan, lead and
organize a group of volunteers. Those members are learning
by doing too. BWAers did not know how to make a video, but
they learned how to and enter in the film festival, often to win.
Some do not know how to teach someone how to paddle, but
they learned how to by helping someone who does at the clinic or roll sessions. Many of us have not tried to write about
something since they left school days, but we work on a story
for Bowlines till it says something to all of us.
Bowlines is the Newsletter of the Bluegrass Wildwater
Association, POB 4231, Lexington Ky, 40544
Club Officers 2006-2007
Join in on the Fun!
President
Philip Sisk
Vice-President
Hanley Loller
Treasurer
Pam Ward
Secretary
Kelly Glasser
Safety
Joey Calder
Program
Dale Perry
Newsletter Editor
Kathy Rose
30th Issue Assistant to Editor Don Spangler
Cyber Communications
Don Spangler
Conservation
Dustin Anderson
Film Festival Coordinator Todd Garland
Russell Fork River Festival
Coordinator
Steve Ruth
Equipment Coordinator
David Leachman
At-Large Member:
Chris Schardi
Membership Coordinator Megan Memmer
Wildwater Cats Rep.
Jessica Dussex
Past President
Jason Bailey
859-231-6565
859-806-9843
859-312-5244
859-312-2031
859-244-7478
859-489-5334
859-797-4727
859-277-7314
859-277-7314
859-333-4997
502-875-9234
The BWA has always been about paddling wildwater and
should always be so. But the road to the river has taken us to
many places that we never expected. Perhaps the most
important has been the friendships that we have formed in the
club. Yes, there is always disputes and there are some of us
that kinda forget we are in this with each other for a reason.
Paddling whitewater is a group activity. What we have realized over the years of our clubs existence is that paddling also
does not exist in isolation. To see evidence of this just read the
859-278-9403
articles that have been written for this special issue. Some of
813-495-1316
writers have not been able to paddle or be with us for many
859-227-7935
years. But their bonds with us are still strong. The stories and
859-737-3131
photos in this special edition will leave many others untold
859-278-0764
and unseen, but issue by issue there will be more added.
BWA website:
www.surfbwa.org
That has made our club newsletter unique in the paddling
Join the BWA! BWA Membership $20/individual; $25/Family year entitles
world. In another 30 years think what stories and thoughts
you to receive the newsletter,10% discounts at many local and out of state
future BWA members will have written.
outfitter shops, use of club equipment, discount at pool rolling sessions, a
listing in the BWA Handbook, a stream gauge guide, and web site with a
Our good paddling, good times, good deeds and good friends listserve for member’s messages.
Meetings are held at 7:30, the second Tuesday of each month at
have come about because of our association and the need for location announced on our website.
us to do many things to do the one thing we all enjoy: paddling rivers!
To submit newsletter articles and/or pictures email Kathy Rose:
kmrose@email.uky.edu
To read a decade worth of Bowlines go to the
BWA website to our issue archive:
http://www.surfbwa.org/html/bowlines_arcN.html
Coming Soon!
A tale of a BWA Expedition to explore an incredible jungle river
that leads into an adventure they never expected.....
and will never forget.
2
were decked out in horse-collar PFDs and bright yellow construction helmets, prompting a fisherman on the lower
Rockcastle to ask if we expected someone to drop a beam on
our heads. What we did was more akin to shootin’ the rapids
than to running a river, but with a little divine intervention and a
lot of duct tape we somehow managed to arrive at the take-out
(usually after dark).
In central Kentucky if you were learning how to paddle in the
seventies, Bob Sehlinger probably had something to do with it.
As Director of Instruction for SAGE, Bob organized and ran
“Aqua” classes for those wanting to paddle a canoe or kayak.
Many who attended these classes later joined the BWA. Bob
has been a key supporter of the BWA for many years and
indeed the NPFF was his idea and was funded in its formative
years via Menasha Ridge, a publishing company he formed
with William Nealy. A big BWA hand to you Bob!
Unwilling facilitators of the whitewater learning curve were Jim
and Chris Stamm who operated a canoe livery on the
Rockcastle River near Somerset. The Stamms went to inordinate lengths to persuade customers to carry around the Class
III Rockcastle Narrows, but hey, carrying a canoe then wasn’t
any more fun than it is now, And though the Stamms’ renters
were able to dispose of much of their cargo before approaching the Narrows, the remaining beer made portaging the
canoes a real ordeal. It was not unusual, in fact, for his customers to haul their cratered Grummans up on the bank and
simply walk out. There were many times during those years
when Jim Stamm sat at the Bee Rock take-out well into the
night hoping his missing boats would appear.
Prehistoric
Times
Bob Sehlinger
In 1973 you could count all the Kentuckians who owned a
kayak on one hand, and there wasn’t an outfitting or sporting
goods store within 500 miles that sold them except for the
wood-frame collapsible Folbot which was unsuitable for whitewater. The first kayak I paddled was a glass boat borrowed
from an Indiana friend who made it from a mold on loan from a
fellow in Chicago. The boat was clunky and weighed more
than a17-foot Grumman aluminum canoe. The little epoxy glob
wouldn’t track and oddly enough it was hard to turn too (at
least in the direction that you wanted). My second time paddling this contrary beast I got jammed between two rocks. I
ooched the boat around one rock and it took off downstream
going straighter than I’d ever seen it go. Problem was, I was
still caught on the other rock with my spray skirt neatly
attached to the just separated coaming of the cockpit.
Meanwhile, back in Lexington, myself, the Tilestons, and Bill
Conger, a UK electrical engineering professor, raised a modest
amount of capital and chartered a corporation called, Sage –
School of the Outdoors, built around Jim Stacey’s outdoor
skills program. That very year the NOC opened and
Madawaska became known to us. I and a couple of other
Sage folks headed to Wesser to try fill the blanks in our whitewater education while Stacy headed to Madawaska. The following year Stacy bridled at doing his thing in the context of a
corporation overseen by a board of directors, and resigned.
Picking up the paddling program from Stacy, I and two others
There was an active paddling community in Louisville in the
early Seventies centered around the Viking Canoe Club. In
Lexington, Dick and Sue Tileston and Jim Nance started the
Bluegrass Pack and Paddle Club, with a predominately flatwater paddling bunch, that also had their hands in United States
Canoe Association marathon canoe racing (you haven’t lived
until you’ve cranked an aluminum canoe eight miles in circles
around the lake at Jacobson Park). It was a small number of
the Bluegrass Pack and Paddle Club, however, that started
Lexington paddlers down the road to whitewater paddling and
who introduced the first kayaks and decked canoes to the
area.
At the same time, Jim Stacy, a tall, bearded galoot who looked
like he might have just crossed the Cumberland Gap with
Daniel Boone, began teaching wilderness skills including backpacking, survival, and canoeing to UK students. After a while
Stacy opened his weekend courses to everyone and crossed
paths with myself and others in the Pack and Paddle Club.
Stacy was a dynamite flatwater canoe instructor, but nobody in
the area really had a handle on teaching whitewater skills, primarily because the body of knowledge and the teaching
methodology were still evolving. I remember vividly, however,
his commitment to safety. Each aluminum canoe was stuffed to
the gills with truck inner tubes, and extra paddles were lashed
with string (easy to break) across the thwarts. His students
A SAGE class on the Cumberland below the Falls with Bob
showing how to run a rapid to some students.
took rescue courses at NOC and whitewater teaching courses
from the American Canoe Association and became ACA
instructor certified in whitewater canoe and kayak, Just in time
too….the introduction of Tupperware kayaks and Royalex
canoes was about to blow the lid off the whitewater pot.
In the ensuing years, we at Sage taught a lot of folks to paddle. Some other folks learned on their own or went south to
3
NOC, and more than a few newcomers arrived with paddling
skills in hand. The paddling community was growing exponentially, but the old Bluegrass Pack and Paddle Club had folded
its tent. Clearly it was time to form a new paddling club. My
memory is fuzzy about who had the vision and who were most
instrumental in bringing that vision to fruition, but clearly Buren
Garten (who first articulated the idea to me), Kent Kirchner and
Katie Keene, Steve Morgan, Don Spangler, Mike Murphy, Dave
Moccia, Sam & Karen Moore, Arnie LeMay, Sallie Stoltz,
Charles Andre, Ed Puterbaugh, Doug McKenzie, Mickey Fulp,
Barbara Stansbury, and the ever-present Tilestons were among
them.
were no distractions like bikes or sailboats or anything to get in
the way of the focus of whitewater…well sex and behavior modification influences perhaps…but that was all. Women who paddled were scarce. Women who didn’t paddle were put to good
use running shuttle (this was by no means a demeaning occupation as everyone appreciated shuttle drivers as much as chowing
down after a run). The early gang was a quiet sort of rowdy lot.
We all hated disco. There were people with jobs who paddled
the nice things and those of us without or being students who
paddled the aluminum things. We thought decadence was
being able to afford two wetsuits so you wouldn’t have to put on
a frozen one Sunday morning.
Dave Moccia, tall (well over 6’) and strong (used a 64” canoe
paddle), was the canoer we all hoped to be. In fact Dave
went on to win in the Nationals shortly after he moved to the
NOC. That is why he was voted to be the first lifetime member of the BWA. We were proud of the national competitor
from the BWA. Of course it was also always nice to know you
had a place to crash and eat at near the Nantahala. He eventually also became the “bookkeeper” for the NOC for a number years after his stint there as Head Canoe Instructor.
I volunteered to be the first newsletter editor, but my real job was
to call the gauges on Thursday and everyone who wanted to
paddle and help decide where we all wanted to be heading
Friday pm or Saturday am. I called Beuren’s house often
enough that his young daughter would recognize my voice and
say; “Daddy can’t come out and play this weekend”. Of course
we relied on some folks with a little experience for their guiding
input. Bob Sehlinger and Doug (Harry D.) McKenzie could talk
us into going anywhere, if it were over our head, well the better
the entertainment factor. Bob went on to fan the flames of famedom with William Nealy. Doug moved on to his mining engineer
career which stationed him in Summersville WV. Cumberland
below the Falls and the Big South Fork were the mainstays.
Boone Creek during the thaw breakup with ice the size of volkswagons both downstream and upstream kept us looking over
our shoulders. The Big South Fork for the first time in February
also kept our interest and I will forever hold it in reverence as the
place of my first combat roll (kayak).
Back in the
Good Old Days
Dave Moccia
Back in the good old days when New Circle Road was actually
new, before global warming, before the ACA started taking themselves too seriously, the days before liability, unfortunately before
the women-in-rubber, prior to river rescue, the days when kayaks
were only made out of fiberglass, and just post the molding of
Royalex into canoes, the birth of the BWA took place.
Conception, so to speak, occurred when SAGE School of the
Outdoors put on some canoe instruction clinics to create a business base for their retail store. Aqua I (a weekend of lake paddling) was followed by Aqua II (straight into a Prince-to-Thurmond
high water run). Those of us that survived were promoted to
instructors to teach the next class. And those that brought everyone back alive went on to become the first ACA canoe instructors.
Of course the mainstay of mainstay was Elkhorn Creek which
just also happened
to the fishing hole of
my earlier years.
The Elkhorn was
close and usually
running and with
some ingenuity and
imagination, could
keep us entertained
to dusk. If we ever
got bored we just
Interest abounded and the first club organizational meeting took
paddled standing up.
Dave Moccia paddlin’ on the Nanty
place. Those of us who survived the meeting went on to become Just one story and a
charter members. Those who didn’t survive went on to become
tangent to keep this entertaining rather than historical….One
US Olympic flatwater coaches. The latter is in reference to poor
perk of being a SAGE canoe instructor was being able to borrow
Jay Kearney, UK professor. When speaking up to include flatwa- the new Bluehole OCA Royalex canoes. Winter on the Elkhorn
ter as part of the proposed club agenda, he was immediately
is incredible in places, especially when the icicles form on the cliff
slammed by the one and only Charles-the-Red Andrea, who I
where the old walk across bridge used to be. Now if you have
would give the most credit to for the initial club response,
ever knelt in the end of an OCA (which stands for open canoe
“Flatwater…hell no, this is gonna be a whitewater club”. Charles’ model A), I mean with the deckplate scraping your lower back,
spirit was as flamboyant as his red hair and he was as famous
you can get the bow about 3 feet in the air. This is fun at S-Turn
with the IRS as Willie Nelson. Once the direction was settled it
where, with a little practice, you can get your bow 5 feet in the air
only took I don’t know how long to come up with a name. A name coming in to the eddy and watch someone get wild eyed just
was secondary as are most thing in paddlers lives…you see the
prior to lifting your bow over their head and setting it across their
only thing the first members cared about was paddling. There
boat. But in the winter, with good sweep strokes and proper tim4
ing, you can slam in into those icicles and try to break them off.
In the winter icicles are in sleep mode and don’t like to be disturbed. Mother Nature reminded me of this by breaking off a 2 _
foot diameter by 4 foot chunk of future Spring thaw into the boat.
Ice hanging over the starboard gunnel and my butt over portside,
I was able to make shore without any further embarrassment
amidst the chuckles. An easy enough lesson and the price was
only two dents in the aluminum gunnel. But hey…it was a SAGE
boat. Royalex was amazing stuff, it skidded over rocks and you
can beat out most boats after they got wrapped. (sub-tangent:
prepared canoers brought along come-a-longs to dislodge boats)
Royalex, however, we discovered gets brittle in sub-freezing climates and can pop holes in borrowed SAGE canoes whilst
sleigh riding at night on farms. The Elkhorn has provided us with
many a *SEG.
Happy Birthday BWA--many more!
The first year the club existed, we only missed paddling two
weekends in winter (everything was frozen). Not even the holidays were off limits as Christmas to New Years found us on the
lower canyons of the Rio Grande. I can thank the club for a lot of
things, like my gpa losing a half point. Nothing like taking your
book to study for a final exam paddling and coming out two letter
grades lower than you went in. That’s ok as it was the Big South
Fork. But at least I finished school with more direction than I
started as I eventually became head canoe instructor at NOC
(not our canoe) from ’84 to ’92 (the golden age of canoeing… no
bragging just fact). Turning one’s passion into a means to make
a living can be very idealistic and memoir material is abundant,
but subsistence living only goes so far. Yea, I even made ACA
instructor trainer before the organization started taking themselves too seriously.
So, what have we accomplished in the last year? We elected new officers, with Kent Kirchner retaining the high-chairmanship. We even
managed to decide on a new schedule of dues. The incorporation
papers have been submitted, and we are allowed to add the
distinguished post-script "inc." after our club title. The club helped organize and conduct the Kentucky Wildwater Championships, held at
Cumberland below the Falls despite low water (350 cfs) and the
Second Annual Jacobson Lake canoe races was a great success t h a
n k s to Sage, Bob Sehlinger, the BWA the Lexington Park Service
and Katie Keene who did a lot of the footwork.
We are one year old, can you believe that? Did you realize that the
association has just entered into its second year since being organized? It might have slipped by unnoticed, but some of us are sentimental--besides birthdays mean birthday parties. Those of us who
were at the September meeting at the Louden House unceremoniously celebrated our first year with the regular business meeting and
some home-made vanila ice cream. Well, any excuse will do for
home-made ice cream.
Look back on last year for just a few minutes. Has the last year been a
worthwhile experience for you and the club? Sure it has. Admitted, we
have a long way to go, but we have come along way since that organizational meeting at Sage last September. A few of us are actually
beginning to learn to paddle whitewater.
Our paddling talents are really beginning to grow, too. Russell Fork. is
a long way from our first trip down the Nantahala ....a lot warmer too!
Remember our first time down the Ocoee? How about Section III of
the Chattooga and "Bull Sluice" at 3.4' , the Tellico at high water, the
Little River Gorge at flood stage, Raven Fork at over 4', Cumberland
Below the Falls at only 250 cfs. Is it really only four miles to the takeout? Wait, there are more. I bet Kent remembers his ender at the hole
at the bottom of the narrows on the LIttle Tennessee. Snowbird Creek
was a nice change of pace as was the Upper Red when the water
was up.
BWA has been an inspiration to me and maybe me to them as
somewhere along the way I was voted an honorary life member,
which means more to me than any title the NOC or ACA
bestowed. I don’t own any more kayaks but will always have a
canoe. I am far removed from the river systems these days, but
the tides change twice a day and we usually have a breeze out
here on the NC barrier islands. And yes those distractions have
a way of catching up as I have a beach cruiser and plan to build
a sailboat. May you all be blessed with high water and sunshine
and SEGs and may our sons and daughters and their sons and
daughters live to appreciate and nurture the sport we hold so
dear.
We got to paddle Clear Creek in the Emory-Obed thanks to Roy and
Juanita Guinn Expeditions, Ltd. The New River and the Gauley have
offered some of the East's best whitewater this fall to those who had
the skills to paddle them. Were you there when we tore down the old
suspension bridge that had become a hazard to paddlers on the
Elkhorn?
Our members have paddled the Rio Grande below Big Bend National
Park on the Mexican border, the Petawaba and lower Madawaska in
Ontario, and most recently the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. In
short, we did a lot of paddling last year.
Dave Moccia
If you missed out on a lot of these trips, think about it before you turn
down an offer to qo paddling for the weekend. Even Kentucky's own
Rockcastle can be a challenge at 1,100 cfs, right Beuren? There is
something to be gained from every paddling experience, and there will
be a lot more opportunities in our second year. The true beauty of a
remote wilderness, the challenge of good whitewater, the satisfaction
of making every roll (almost) that day, are feelings that can not be had
by staying home to watch the boob tube. The best feeling of all comes
when you zip up your sleeping bag for the night, and know that you
are close to some of the finest people to be found anywhere -- there
are five people in your two person tent because it is raining outside!!
*SEG = shit-eatin-grins
Links to related Bowline stories:
Mar/Apr99: Passing on the Tradition,Reflections from a new
member, A Look at the Paddling Clinic
May/June00 Recollections of a Proud Papa, pg. 10
from Bowlines Vol. 2, No. I November 1977
5
tourists. “ ( I will skip the nitty gritty about the ensuing run except
to mention, that not only did I pull off my first ever river combat
roll at Double Falls, but did two more after that!) “ As we paddled
through Railroad rapids, we were told that this was the area
BWA used for their beginning clinics. This area had the only
access upstream of Leatherwood Ford and can only be
reached by a 4WD road, embellished with an unprintable name.
As the bridge came into sight, we sadly realized that the hilite of
our trip was over and we had to head home….once we waited
for the hour and a half shuttle. While refueling at dinner, we
promised to add
The Bluegrass Wildwater Association to our exchange list, and,
when they print their in newsletter, they will also send CWA a
copy. In return, we promised to be rather vague about their
river, so they don’t become over run with tourists as the rivers
we are used to here in the North.
Known as River Mom, Marge Cline started paddling in the midseventies, and has been part of the paddling scene for the last 3
decades. She got to know the BWA in the seventies and has
been an active supporter of the NPFF since the first one. She
has attended most of the festivals, worked as a judge and was
also a competitor in the event. Marge has been an important
and active member of the both the Chicago Whitewater
Association and American Whitewater. She has started and
trained hundreds of paddlers in the Chicago area. In 2000,
Marge Cline was honored by Paddler Magazine for being one of
100 "Paddlers of the 20th Century” who've made a difference.
Thanks For the
Memories
After that trip, CWA paddlers ran into BWA paddlers occasionally
during their river trips. I remember paddling with a Kentucky
group on the Ocoee one day, while Barry Grimes was busy
recording the day for posterity on video. Dan Dixon and I were
in the C-2 running Table Saw and Barry caught the resulting flip
and swim on tape. I wet exited and Dan rolled the boat up,
sputtering how hard it was to
roll that time. Some months
later, Barry sent me a copy of
the video he had made, and I
found out why Dan had had
such trouble. I was hanging
on to the hull of the boat while
swimming through the waves
while he was trying to roll it up!
Marge Cline
Hi BWA! Rivermom from Chicago
Whitewater Association here. Happy Birthday to you! Don
asked me to reminisce about how BWA and CWA got to know
each other. I agreed because it gives me a chance to say
thanks for some pretty neat memories in years past and the
chance to congratulate another paddling club on an important
anniversary. (CWA celebrated 30 years old also, a few years
back).
We first met a BWAer at a local race in 1979. Charles Andre
from Lexington was in the Chicago area working for the EPA
during the construction of one of our expressways. He showed
up at the race on the Des Plaines River where a few of us were
running safety in our kayaks below a dam. It didn’t take much
for him to introduce himself as another paddler and one thing
led to another and soon we had exchanged addresses and
phone numbers and he had promised that his club, BWA would
be happy to show us some new rivers if we let them know when
we could come to the area. The following year, a few of us traveled to the Big South Fork of the Cumberland, a river new to all
of us, but very familiar to bluegrass paddlers. Charles, Ed
Puterbaugh and Jerry O’Connor met us at Leatherwood Ford.
(I continue this with words excerpted from the trip report published in The Gradient)…” We found our campsite before dark
after driving down a mountain on a road which looked like it was
ready to fall off the grade at any moment. When we first
glimpsed the river on the way down, we were impressed; this
was a big river, not just a stream. The rain began shortly after
dinner and it was still raining in the morning. We had dread
thoughts of “could we still get out of this canyon after a rain?”
We decided to abandon our campsite and wait on higher
ground. Chances were good, since there was no other way in,
we’d meet them on their way in. Sure enough, we found each
other and headed for a local restaurant to chow down before
setting up the long shuttle. We learned about the river we were
about to run with the BWA, including the fact that the Big South
Fork had been nominated for inclusion in the National Wild and
Scenic Rivers Act, and the park service was already in the
process of acquiring the land. The BWA paddlers were happy
to have the protection and improvements this would bring, but
felt quite uneasy about having “their” river spoiled by the influx of
John Karch recalls the following about paddling with BWA: This
is the first time I remember meeting some BWA paddlers on the
river. They were below an innocent little one foot drop and were
hollering that I should run it sideways. I did, but didn't lean
enough and it flipped me immediately upstream. There must
have been a shallow rock because I immediately felt a hammer
blow to the left side of my helmet (and it felt exactly like someone took a hammer and swung it against the side of my helmet).
I rolled up, but was amazed my head was still attached.
Another memory of the BWA boys was their famous "steak on a
stick". They had set up a campfire - no gas stoves or anything,
they believed in roughing it. They had then sharpened the end
of some sticks to a point and stuck on what looked like a 1 lb ribeye steak on each one. They then proceeded to roast the
things over the fire like marshmallows. Didn't see any vegetables, so I don't know what they had to eat with it.
One of the more memorable trips was when we went down to
the Obed-Emory system during TVA week (around Easter). We
had agreed to hook up with some of the BWA boys to do Crab
Orchard creek. They knew the put-in so we were following them
down a dirt road when we see a whole caravan of cars led by a
hearse coming at us from the opposite direction. The hearse
stopped as we drew up along side and told us the river was in
6
Spangler and Barry Grimes were close to his energy level.
flood stage and too high - they weren't going to do it. The BWA
boys immediately said, "Sh__ - we're gonna do it!" So we followed them to the put-in with our CWA contingent and put in
below the bridge. We couldn't put in above the bridge because
you couldn't float under it - the water was too high.
Ah, yes, I remember y’all well. Thanks for the memories… and
have a happy celebration and many more years in the fast lane.
Love to all,
Rivermom aka Marge Cline
The river was truly in flood stage. We came across one island
that was plastered with a rainbow of open boats. The open
boater group that was ahead of us had all wiped out in the high
waves and the water pushed them up on the island. We also
ended up in trouble as we had started weaving amongst the
trees to avoid some vicious whitewater that we weren't familiar
with. Unfortunately, one of our boaters wrapped his kayak
around a tree. He got out just before it folded, but sprained both
knees doing it. Next day Bud came back to get it and found it
about 4 feet above the water line.
Elkhorn at High Water
On January 23rd, three of the "out to lunch
bunch" (Jerry 0', Renné le Don and I) along with
9 Louisville boaters enjoyed the mighty Elkhorn
“Chas”
at about 7'. This is an approximation since the
gauge on the bridge was under water. A few days later when the
creek was lower, we extrapolated this level by using the bottom of the
bridge deck as a reference point.
Our group had gotten separated into smaller groups as it
became evident that this was a "every man for himself" paddle.
I followed Charles Andre from the BWA since he was a C-1 paddler and I figured he had a higher vantage point than I did.
Worked pretty well as we both made it to the takeout. We then
started counting people to see if everybody made it. We found
out at the take-out bridge that another CWA paddler had lost his
boat. He took a swim and his boat got stuffed under an undercut rock. I think he also managed to come back later in the
week to retrieve it.
Ordinarily, writing a trip report about the Elkhorn is rather mundane
stuff, and I'm only doing it now because for some of the newer and
maybe less experienced paddlers in our group, there are a few hazards unique to this water level. First, the portage around the dam is
very dangerous, bordering on absurd. At this level, one should get to
the left bank well upstream of the dam and climb through the trees to
check out and plan the portage. The reason for this is obvious; you
don't know what could be down there. When we were there there was
at least one foot of water running over the concrete abutment that we
It was one of my more memorable high water runs and I was
usually drag/carry our boats over. The wide flat ledge and stairstepped type cliff descent to the water below dam was a shallow
glad the BWA paddlers were with us.
rapid, which was safe to walk through. Putting in is a real "trip". Not
When I asked Tam Fletcher about BWA memories, she said the only do you have a horrendous churning mess of brown and white
water to look at and listen to, but the eddy we normally use is a termifollowing: “The best thing I remember about BWA is the Film
nal whirlpool. If this eddy doesn't get you, it will accelerate you pellFestivals. I went to the first one with Jennifer Jones (now
mell into the Drowning Machine at the base of the dam. Put in well
Jennifer Hearn) and on the way there we had a flat tire. When I below this mess and you will have a nicer day.
found out she was another woman who knew how to change a
tire herself, I was delighted! And how it rained in the tobacco
barn, and how I got to meet William Nealy and actually talk to
him and the best thing was Richard Smithers singing “She Wore
Black Rubber!”
Another characteristic that will catch your attention is that the creek is
pushy at this level. In its power and speed, it is approaching big water
character. This means that more advanced planning of your course
through a rapid is a necessary and often times more muscle may be
required to get where you want to go. Also eddies are fewer, more
violent, and sometimes in different places from where they are at
lower levels. At this level most eddies are in trees. For an inexperienced boater this can mean a nasty broach. (Ed. note, It's also pure
hell on swimmers).
Ah yes, the Women in Rubber!!!!!!!!! How they inspired me and
other CWA women. We actually modeled a CWA group after
them and called ourselves LIPs, i.e., the Ladies in Polypro. I
became the coach of LIPs and promised to teach them everything I knew. LIPs actually put in an appearance at one of the
FF and led the assemblage in a bunny hop into the pool. A CWA
contingent usually attended the annual Paddling Film Festival.
CWA paddlers/videographers/photographers have entered the
competition a few times. I actually won an award back in the
days before video – I shot super 8 movies in those days – and it
still hangs on my wall today. CWA members were always included in the judging assignments during the competition and afterwards, attended the party. My interest in the film festival was
two-fold: I loved the films and videos, but loved the party and
dancing afterwards even more. It was generally the only event
during the year where I knew there would be no lack of partners
willing to rock and roll. Mike Weeks was unstoppable and Don
Well,I’ve given all the warnings but there are some nice things about
this level. If you don’t mind the portage you can easily run the
Elkhorn twice in a afternoon. To me, the best thing about this level is
that the waves are, in some places, four to five feet tall and you get a
chance to experience the "feel" of what big water is like.I want to
stress that the Elkhorn at seven feet is not big water in the sense that
the New is at two feet and up, but only that it gives a novice boater a
feel for the power of a relatively large volume of water in this creek.
In conclusion, the Elkhorn. at seven feet should be run with caution;
carry ropes, carabineers, etc., be very careful at the dam and stay
close together.
Rudolf the Red (Chas) from Bowlines March 1982
7
taining bits of neoprene and empty cans of
rubber cement. I decided I had to be close.
In the eighties the most
excitement at River Festivals
was centered not on seeing
the latest boat but on seeing
the “Women in Rubber”. What
had started as an effort to
provide some interesting
entertainment for Saturday
night at the BWA Clinic,
turned into a phenomenon
that included performances at
River Festivals by the Women
in Rubber, clothing with WIR
art, stationary with WIR on it,
articles in magazines like the
AW Journal and even NPFF
entries with stories about the
Women in Rubber. William
Nealy even took note of the
Women in Rubber in one of
his books. If you went boating
and other paddlers found out
you were with the BWA you
were often asked if the
Women in Rubber were
around. The BWA was graced
with a lot of beautiful and talented women who liked to
paddle and have fun. The
Women in Rubber certainly
did a lot to make the paddling
world aware of the BWA.
I recognized the place from the classic
“Raving Rubber” documentary - the hot tub
was still bubbling and there was a bent and
aged butler that hobbled up to me as I
approached. I had to keep repeating my
name and purpose for visiting until I was
yelling into his ear, but by that time one of
the women had come out of the house and
nodded. She patted the old guy’s arm and
sent him back to mind the dials and temperature gauges.
I was struck by how little the years had
changed this woman; she still had the
grace and serenity that had been her
trademark both on and off the water. She
took me inside to the great room.
“You’re Patti, aren’t you? So do you live
here? Are all the Women in Rubber still
here? Still boating?” I asked.
“Well, I confess I mostly solo canoe now
when I want to paddle,” Patti replied, “and
the lower Gauley is about as much white
water as I want to deal with. I’ve been
teaching school and during the summers I
come up here to train and make rugs.”
Where Are
They Now?
It was then I noticed that the floors were covered in dark
braided rugs, ovals and squares and rectangles. I went to
admire one, and it was, well, squishy.
“Are these neoprene?” I asked.
It’s been quite a few years since the Women in Rubber
have been seen (except in your dreams!) and so Bowlines
decided it was time to check up on some of the women
who wore neoprene like a second skin, who could slide
down the tongue of the wildest rapid with a serene smile
and a sly wink to the crowd of fans and who could slip into
a micro-eddy with a twitch of a hip.
“Well, I call them “Women on Rubber” rugs, but yes,
they are. There was something so comforting about our old
wetsuits that even when I got a drysuit for winter boating I
just had to have them around. I can recycle old wetsuits
and believe me, they hold up really well to all kinds of
abuse.”
Where were those women who had paddled whitewater
like they were on a dance floor and danced like they were
on drugs? They brought us songs like “Boat It” and “Every
Stroke You Take” they entertained crowds of wanna-bes at
the shore and drunken horny guys on the stage. How
could they give that up?
I had an idea was what kind of abuse could be performed on those rugs, but I knew that wasn’t why I was on
the job. I needed to keep digging into the present whereabouts of the other women.
“Do the others still come here to train? Are they here
now?”
Our chief, er, main correspondent, Chief, was MIA, so
Bowlines had to send the stand-in reporter (that would be
Patti paused a minute before answering. “You know we
me) to investigate. I decided to go first to the training camp
do
like our privacy. Few people can find us here and that’s
in West Virginia that had been their favorite hang out - if I
on
purpose. ‘Outside’ we have our own kind of a ‘witness
could find it. I took Chief’s notes (“Turn left at the river”)
protection
program’ so we aren’t usually cornered or
and started looking. Soon I found a large recycling bin conharassed by fans or old jealous lovers.”
8
“But the public wants to know - they need to know - where
their beloved WIR are now. I don’t have to divulge your
whereabouts, but they’d like to know what you all are
doing,” I pleaded.
women have a soft spot for loyalty and he would always
have a place with them.
“Lynn went to Hollywood and had a lot of luck in films.
She did stunt work for a living and first descents for fun.
She was so thin she had a special boat made for her and
she could slip into places the ‘big guys’ just had to pass up.
She didn’t do it for the glory - none of us did really, but for
the challenge.”
“Well, I guess I can tell you a bit about some of us. A
few of the women ran out of rivers to run or men to sleep
with here in the east and went west for new challenges.
Sally had always been intrigued with the issues of non-verbal communication - she had a great personal body language, you know.”
“And for the fans?” I asked, probing like a good investigative reporter should.
I nodded, my mouth going dry. I remembered the message I got while she was dancing onstage.
“Well, that was true when we were performing, but not
now. Actually we did what we did - both boating and per“Anyway, she parlayed that into a degree in communica- forming - for the women who needed to know they could
tion and she is practicing speech therapy of some kind
paddle the hard stuff, too, if they wanted, and the men, who
when she’s not paddling.”
took themselves WAY too seriously.”
“Paula went to the southwest and got into first descents
on roller blades. She usually wears a inner tube - I think it
is that same rubber-nostalgia I have surfacing, but she
insists that it’s in case she gets into deep water. Frankly,
she is known for getting in over her head, but she comes
up smiling every time!”
Another female voice joined the mix, “Yes, we laughed at
them and ourselves.”
“Pam?” I asked incredulously “Is that you?” She was
dressed in a business suit. “You don’t paddle in that, do
you?”
“Bonnie got into drugs in a big way; she was a real high
volume dealer.”
Whoa, I thought, she seemed so... wholesome...
“Yes,” Patti continued, “she’s one of the best pharmaceutical agents in the business. I think she does her boating each weekend on a yacht now with a much younger
house boy than Frank, here.” Patti smiled gently and gestured to her ‘body guard.’
I could look out and see him still leaning against the
deck railing, jerking awake every few minutes to peer
around the grounds, on the look out for intruders. I had to
think a boulder the size of a garbage truck could roll down
the hill into the back of the house and he would’t know it
until the walls collapsed around him, but I knew these
Woman in Rubber Jan Atlee practicing her Tyrolean rescue skills.
9
clay and dirt, she’s
running the Elkhorn
to pick up trash.”
“Are you kidding?”
she scoffed, “It has
to be dry cleaned.
No, I’m a lawyer
when I’m working - or
rather I should say
‘an advocate.’ And of
course I still love
boating, but I meet
enough sharks in my
job. I paddle to
relax.”
“Who else is still around? Do you get together?” It was
easy to get distracted by the subtle scent of glue and
pheromones, but I had to stay focused for the sake of my
assignment.
Pam responded as Patti sank back into the couch and
went back to cutting black rubber with a red backing into 1”
strips.
“Yes,” Pam
agreed, “We all try
to do our part.
Lythia has worked
on water quality
issues for years.”
“Anyway, back to
your other question.”
I couldn’t remember what it was...
”We try to meet once a year at least - we pretend it’s for
the boating, but really we mostly shoot the bull (Bull
Sluice? I thought), sing the old songs, toast Frank (!) and
train the young women, our daughters, our interns in the
fine points of being a true WIR.”
“A few of us are staying here right now. Lynda is upstairs
“You mean there are new Women in Rubber out on the
working on her next
rivers? Where are
best seller, “The Kicking
they? Who are they?
Horse Code.” She was
Can I meet them?” I
up in BC for the past
babbled in my excitefew months doing
ment.
research and now she’s
settled down with her
“Honey,” Pam
laptop. We can’t disturb
purred, “You just have
her - she just comes out
to go out there and
for cappuccino, whole
LOOK for them.
wheat toast and green
They’re out there. They
tea. She looks
are the strong ones,
exxxhaused but happy,
the funny ones, the
if you know what I
creative ones, the best
mean.” Pam winked
ones. They are all over
and then I got it. I won- Bob Sehlinger getting socially connected with Women in Rubber Linda and Carole. the place!”
dered if Lynda might need additional ‘inspiration,’ but decided that these women, if not Frank, wouldn’t let me near
-- Respectfully submitted by
her.
‘A Man in a Rubber (raft)’
“Jan added a sculpture studio down the hill from here
and she’s working on life sized statues of the consummate
paddler - remember her posters of the male and female
paddler? This is like that only better. I swear I see a little
glimpse of several of our old guard in her work - a hint of
Dad, a ‘dandy don’ expression, that ‘come hither’ look that
Carole used to perfection coupled with the capable C6
stance...”
Pam smiled like she could see Cynthia in front of her
right then, tough and strong. “Yes,” she nodded, “I can feel
all of us within that hunk of plaster, slowly emerging.”
Patti spoke up then “And when she’s not working with
10
Rich Lewis came to the BWA looking for fun and excitement.
His early paddling gave him that, but he also found some
good friends including one who eventually became his “honey”
and wife. She also became a “flashier” paddler then him. But
it has worked out and both are still together....unlike some
other BWA marriages.
Bravado.....
and Age
paddling 80 days a year; giving back to the sport through
the NPFF, the Clinic, and more.
It’s been a privilege to be here. Though a lifetime isn’t long
enough to paddle all the rivers and play and work alongside all the people I wanted to meet.
We all need to cherish each moment of friendship and river
running, from morning shuttle to evening campfire. For the
bravado and camaraderie of each river run needs an
indelible place in our memories to be with us in 30 more
years…
Rich Lewis
I can remember the roll sessions of 1979, when I first
crammed my large frame into a small kayak (by 1979 standards). Uncomfortable fiberglass edges poking my legs
and smelly uncured polyester resin from my first seaming
job pulling the hair and skin off my calves. Volunteer
BWA’ers helped me get my roll over 7 consecutive roll sessions (a slow learner for sure). Then we went for a trip
down class II-III rivers where I learned with other newbies
that getting lost on shuttles, swimming, campfires, and story-telling
was part of the sport and every trip
was a new river conquest. It felt lifethreatening and I never felt more
alive. In reality, it rarely was lifethreatening (except for my pin under
Camelback rock on the Clear Fork,
but that’s another story).
Why I Swam
We’ve changed in 30 years. The
people I mean. The young ones got
“The Honey”, being flashier
older and new young ones join us
every year (3 cheers for the BWA Clinic). The older ones
are a very varied group. Some of their boats are gathering
dust. Some of their boats are running Class VI. But all of
us remember when….
6. Something bit my leg inside my boat.
We remember “when” because it was the exciting part of
our lives. Whether we succeeded at Class II or went to
Class VI, paddling was the adventurous side of our personalities. We ran the Pillow or The Slot or Railroad and it
made us feel competent to get to the bottom. In a world
that didn’t always affirm our competency, a successfully
run river could always do that. We pushed ourselves and it
felt good and right.
11. The wind was too strong.
And many BWA’ers gave back to the sport: countless river
clean-ups, Film Fests, clinics, races, ad infinitum. It was a
good and worthy thing in which to spend our leisure time.
16. My spray skirt had twisted and was pulling the hair on my chest
(especially good for female paddlers).
So where are we now, 30 years later? Same place, just
better, I think. It’s a good place. Bringing in and nurturing
young folks; developing our skills; being challenged by
rivers new to us; enjoying the rivers that are like old
friends; some not paddling much anymore but continuing
the friendships that helped make us who we are; newbies
In my 2 1/2 years of paddling with the BWA I have heard some very
creative excuses for not rolling up after a flip. What is most interesting
is the fact that the advanced paddlers seem to be the most creative,
perhaps out of necessity. The following is an ongoing list of those
excuses which I encourage others to add to with their own experiences:
1. I had to sneeze.
2. My paddle got caught in the weeds (especially good after 5' drops
that have rocky bottoms).
3. My nose plug came off.
4. I lost/gained weight just month and my boat's too big/small for me.
5. My sneaker came off.
7. My control hand lost control.
8. My foot slipped off the foot peg.
9. I didn't want to show off.
10. I didn't want to get my new helmet scratched.
12. 1 got a cramp in my big toe.
13. My spray skirt had already popped anyway.
14. 1 still had bacon grease on my hands from this mornings' breakfast.
15. 1 thought it would be more exciting this way.
17. 1 couldn't decide whether to roll on my good side, my off side, or
throw away my paddle and hand's roll only.
Rich Lewis from Bowlines May 1982
On Swim Stories:
“The difference between intermediate and expert boaters is their
excuse.”
Rich Lewis, Bowlines
11
part of the boating adventure. It was like carrying
your boat a long way to
the put-in or having a long
flatwater paddle out. If it
was a good run, it was
worth it! The most legendary eatery was the
one that was found during
the famous “mystery”
Don Spangler
L to R: Dave Weiland, Mike Weeks, “Chief Kulka”,
From the very early days BWA members, when not talking about weekend: “Gladys
Gladys Breeden, Don Spangler, Wayne Catron,
Breeden's”.
Never
would
paddling, would talk about favorite restaurants that would be
Chas Andre, DavieThomas, John Davis.
you
expect
to
find
a
place
close to a given river. The lore of a restaurant with good food with
to eat that was like your Grandma’s kitchen during a family gathgenerous portions at great price was passed down to newer
ering. You helped yourself from tables, counters, and stoves covpaddlers, much as the lore of a great river run was. This was
before chain restaurants were very common other than along the ered with bowls, pans, and skillets filled with country cooking. It’s
location was a tightly coveted secret among a select group of
interstate highways. Restaurants such as Joe & Ruth’s in
BWA eaters.
Somerset, Mildred’s in Wartburg, Ali Baba’s in Knoxville, The
Rusty Fork in Elkhorn City , Brunnetti’s in Hurricane, WV, or the
When we started providing food at the Spring Clinic, it did not
Tellico Riverside in Tellico Plains provided us with good “road
take long for our creativity and spirit of competition to come forth.
food” and many a good story.
We soon had Dad’s Dinner Theater, Sam’s Roast Pig and other
memorable meals served up. For a while we had an eating comJoe & Ruth’s, positioned along HW 27,was famous in the early
petition at the clinic. This was long before they became the fad
days for it’s family style all you could eat for about 4 dollars.
you see on tv nowadays. Contestants would get special t-shirts
They would keeping bringing the fried chicken, roast beef, ham
and catfish along with all the veggies till even big eaters like Dave with “Eat Off” art work. The best remembered contest was at the
1984 clinic eat off. It came close to being a disaster because we
Moccia and Jim Ramsey had to holler “nuff”.
had the contest before the students
and instructors ate and we had not
Mildred’s was central to all paddling in the Emory-Obed waterappreciated how much food the conshed. A breakfast of 2 eggs, hash browns and toast could be had
testant could eat.
for under a dollar. Add a biscuit and gravy it would still be under
“Dandy Don” is the BWA’s longest active member. Since 1976
he has served in every office and is still active in club projects.
He has canoed rivers throughout the US, Canada, and Mexico.
The BWA
And Food
a buck and a half. In later years (after she moved to the center of
town) just a couple of minutes away, she added the Wartburger.
Good burger questionable name. I believe it is still served at the
restaurant now called the Cumberland House. But some of the
appeal was not just the food but folks like Mildred. We got to
know them and they us. Mildred, always good of heart would
care about you. One time when Beuren and Patty Garten were
doing some 20º winter camping at Frozen Head she pleaded
with them to come stay at her house. When they refused, she
gave them a big thermos of hot chocolate to take with them and
told them her back door would be unlocked if it got too cold during the night.
“Officially it was a tie between Gerry
Hey and Rick Weeks,6 lbs of food in
30 minutes followed by OT... there
was compelling evidence , but never
confirmed that Dad, who managed
Rico, added weights to the bottom of
Rico's tray at the onset, removing
them later AND that Rico vomited
during the dessert triple
overtime....Frank Loudermilk,
Commissioner of Eating
The Tellico Riverside Restaurant in Tellico Plains was not only
popular with paddlers for it’s roast beef sandwich, but in the early
days we would call them and they would run across the road to
see how much water there was in the Tellico.
(You might want to ask Barry Grimes
what his Winnebago was like after an early morning visit from
Gerry Hey.)
Yes, sometimes the food could be disappointing, but it was all
Nov/Dec04 A Different Type of Hamburger Stand
Mike Molnar would like to run the Elkhorn with a grill some some
hot dogs in his canoe. He would find a good spot on an island
What might amaze you is some of these “hole in the wall” type
eating establishment could get national recognition. One example about halfway down and stop for his hot dog feast. Margavage
can pull out a grill and some brats from his van in the blink of an
is Lou’s in Sunbright, Tennessee. Among other things things
eye. Members like Mike and Dave are among a number of BWA
Lou’s is known for good burgers, some which have been eaten
members who still carry on the BWA tradition with Boating and
by the BWA. Alton Brown from the Food Channel “Good Eats”
Food.
just did a story on Lou’s on his new program “Feasting on
Other
related story links you may want to read:
Asphalt”. I am not sure how he found Sunbright let along Lou’s,
but he did.
Sept/Oct01 Class VI... Pass the Gravy!
12
Thirty Years of BWA
Fun-damentalism
Jerry O”Connor
These people are crazy, “middle-age crazies” someone used to
say... But I didn’t find out until it was too late. The statement did
not appear to be subject to debate. What other kind of person
shows up at work on a rainy day with a big smile on their face,
(not counting those who own stock in auto-body shops)?
tact person for the club, duly noted in Appendix I. My recollection of that first meeting, at Ed Puterbaugh’s house, is a little better than that of the last long miles on the Elkhorn. Three things
stand out from that fateful evening… the bow, or maybe it was
the stern, of a canoe standing on it’s severed mid-section in a
corner of the living room; a home video of kayaks somewhere in
Tennessee performing a peculiar maneuver called an “ender”,
and Sam Moore announcing a practice session for throwing
ropes and paddling kayaks at his place the following week.
I had never been in a kayak before, so there I was and the rest
is history, but not all of it has been recorded. There may be
some who would prefer that it remain unrecorded. Some things
Maybe I was crazy too. Amply armed with Bob Sehlinger’s first are just better when they are told around the campfire, after
“Canoeing and Kayaking Guide to the Streams of Kentucky”,
throwing the cap away. Like being left on the side of highway
freshly published in my home state, I prepared for my assault on 27 after sitting in the back of a station wagon drinking beer for
the mighty Elkhorn. Even before moving to Lexington I had
the past two hours, or waking up with a caravan of jeeps runbeen attempting to make a run on the Rockcastle. It was only
ning right by the tent on a rainy morning at the Big South Fork
years later that I recognized the wisdom of the outfitter who
(was that really a clinic?), or witnessing the taming of a noisy
refused to let us take his canoes on what surely would have
late-night high-octane bonfire licking the bottom of the old bridge
been a fateful trip that snowy November day. But I digress…
at the Nemo Hilton, or trying to stay awake after leaving
That’s what happens to old farts after their brain cells have been Mildred’s on the way back to Lexington, (adrenaline charging by
more than adequately fortified with Wild Turkey for a number of
rogue truck drivers optional!), or witnessing the birth of the
years…
Women in Rubber, or using a z-drag to extricate a “4-wheeldrive” Isuzu from the tangled brush on a shortcut shuttle… But
So, one drizzly gray March day, two graduate students from UK again I digress… I like to digress. It’s such a pleasant diversion
showed up at the put-in for the Class II Whitewater Section of
from my obligation at work to be obsessively convergent. My
Elkhorn Creek. Having no native knowledge of the area, we left tenure at UK did not last near as long as my association with the
my VW Squareback parked in what looked like a safe place, on BWA, and I don’t regret it for a nanosecond!
river right near a church that later seemed like way too many
miles downstream of the conventional take-out. My friend’s
So what does
Mustang brought us uneventfully back to a reunion with my 15’
any of this BWA
Sea Nymph waiting for us at the Forks, the cold aluminum wet
stuff have to do
with anticipation in the cool moist springtime Kentucky air. Are
with fundameny’all with me so far? Any questions??
talism1? My
point exactly!
Well, y’all know what happens next. Make sure the keys don’t
get locked in the car and hit the water! Yahoo!! Rocks, holes,
During a recent
waves, turns, and we didn’t look back or slow down until we got discussion of the
to Old Grand-Dad’s pool. Dam, that was fun- hope it keeps up! dogmatic
The sporadic drizzle had already inured us to the cold splashes approach adoptcoming in, and we were feeling pretty good for a couple of guys ed by some trip leaders, my response was that they were obviwho had never been in the same boat before. It was like that
ously not affiliated with the BWA school of thought. They would
point in the Jimmy Buffet song right before he says, “and that’s
not have survived the final exam! I still remember the couple
when I first saw The Bear”. We hit the haystacks at full speed
that gave up and went home after the group had been traveling
and they came right in and made themselves at home. Then
for over an hour and changed its collective mind at least three
they brought in a bunch of their friends and had a party- brought times before making a final decision of which reach to run. That
us right down to their level in short order. What fragments of our might have even been the day we ran Potters Falls… When
clothing that weren’t wet before were wet now. The water dripthe Emory-Obed system is up there are no wrong answers! I’m
ping from us harmonized with what was dripping on us, and we proud, (notwithstanding my exceptional humility) to be an alumpaddled, and paddled, and paddled downstream. The only
nus of the one and only Bluegrass Wildwater Association!
thing I remember now is getting colder and colder. (You might
think I’d at least remember that wave-hole rapid where Chief dis- jerry o’
located his shoulder and I wrapped my M.E. around the tree.
class of ‘79
Where was Old Grand-Dad when you really needed him?!
1. Fundamentalism, as opposed to fundamentals, such as eddy
Well, clearly, we survived our hypothermic experience. I don’t
turns, peel-outs, and ferries
know if my friend ever paddled again, but I was at the next BWA
meeting after finding a phone number for Katie Keene, the con-
13
Some snips of BWA history....
Kent Kirchner
First President of the BWA
Kent was one of the
first if not the first
member to paddle the
Colorado thru the
Grand Canyon. His
8mm movies of this trip
were often our program
at meetings, Kent providing the rapid by rapid
monologue with the rest
of us in awe at the size
and length of the rapids.
Kent had a VW bus that
we often rode in on paddling trips. A VW bus, loaded with paddlers and boats,
going over Jellico Mt. in the days before the interstate was
finished goes very slow. We would not reach the NOC till
1:30 or 2:00 in the morning.
A great many of our early members worked at the UK
Medical Center, and Kent was doing his internship there.
Kent is now Chief of Staff, VA Medical Center, Jackson,
Miss.
The Famous Hot Tub Clinic
Jan Atlee
The Soul of Art
for the BWA
Jan was the club artist for the BWA. Yes some
others, including William Nealy, did some art for the club,
but no one did more art and captured the spirit of the BWA
over the years like Jan. She did art for the NPFF, the
Women in Rubber, designed the basic logos we still use
today for the BWA and Bowlines, not to mention cartoons,
T-shirt designs and many other pieces of art. She is also
one of the many members that came to us from the
Medical Center at UK. She was a medical illustrationist for
UK before she was promoted to running the department.
When the someone in the BWA decided they wanted to do
something they found a way to do it. Ed Puterbaugh had
access to a hot tub one year and found a trailer to bring it
to the clinic. The idea was that it would be nice to sit in a
hot tub and soak after a full day on the river. Well, it was,
but the shortcoming was getting the water hot in the tub.
With enough bodies in the tub the water warmed up some, Jan paddled mostly canoe and C-1 during her active period
not that those in the tub were in any condition to feel. It did with the BWA. She left Kentucky for a brief period but now
is pursuing art in her studio near Georgetown on the North
provide for some wild entertainment that night though!
Fork of the Elkhorn. She still loves to paddle when time
permits. Thanks Jan for all you have done!
14
Jan learned to paddle a C boat by determination and persistance. She is passing that love of the river on to her two
daughters, who may pass it on to thier kids and it started with
the BWA!
My First BWA
River Trip
Jan Diebold Busse
The earliest memory I have of a BWA river trip was back in
March, 1981 and we were headed to the free flowing watershed
of the Emory-Obed rivers. Stories of menacing rapids filled my
filled my brain after listening to crusty, veteran boaters I had met
only recently while taking roll sessions in a steamy, enclosed
pool at a YWCA. I did not really know what this new sport of
kayaking was all about, I just knew that I missed the wide open
ocean and brisk winds of sailing which I had enjoyed while in
college on the coast and in middle Kentucky this seemed to be
the only other means of getting out into water and hanging with
folks who appreciated a cold beer (if Rum wasn’t available) after
a hot day as much as I did. I did not know much except that it
was important to maintain good posture and attempt a roll if I
flipped the borrowed C boat I would be paddling. I did have the
good sense to bring a tent, sleeping bag, food, and the very necessary 12 pack of cold beer in the cooler to whet my thirst after
the trip and to while the evening hours at the campfire away.
Wartburg to buy a really cheap, orange, kid-sized one for me.
Sam really didn't think I should paddle with it, but Charles and
Mike assured him that I'd be ok. I will never forget the humiliation of being a woman paddling a manly C-boat (one that looked
like it had been built to accommodate Landis' testosterone load it was at least 13 feet long and the largest penile shaped boat I
remember) with a little kid's neon orange life jacket on. I definitely felt like a drafted soldier being officially inducted into the
river annals fraternity, as there were maybe two other women on
the trip, one being Sam’s wife, Karen. I set out on the river, paddling with as much determination as my bent, aching ankles
would permit as I did not want to be an additional liability by
becoming a dreaded Swimmer. The Emory was relatively
smooth, not too much to upset the boat as long as you paddled
hard through the rapids. I received a small confidence boost
from Charles who kept telling me I looked good in neon orange.
I also received good pointers from Sam attempting to teach me
what an eddy was. I also remember being glad that at least I
had brought my own tent and 12 pack of beer.
The river was great, Sam was a good teacher, Charles and
Mike helped by demonstrating what to do or what not to do.
Later that night (I
don't remember
details, but at some
point in a routine
BWA post river alcohol binge, Mark
Wilson and some
others hoisted
I had to borrow everything for the river trip itself (boat, paddle,
Sam's C-boat up in
helmet, life jacket etc) from Terry Weeks. Upon arrival at Sam
a tree about 20 or
Moore's house, I received a large net bag of gear, to include
30 feet using Sam's
spray skirt etc…, and upon an order issued by General Sam,
placed it in the back of Don Spangler’s car. I specifically remem- throw rope. I will
Janet doing a big bow draw on
never forget his
ber being awed at how Sam cracked orders to all those arriving
Mineral Creek in Alaska
face the next mornand systematically, an odd assortment of multicolor rope and
ing. His eyes were the size of big chocolate moon pies and his
bungy cords wrapped the boats onto racks. The paddles were
literally attached to racks along side the boats with a mystical set face was a bright shade of strawberry red. I remember thinking
how funny the "be responsible for you own gear" message
of odd-looking knots composed primarily of half hitches.
Somehow all of the boats were successfully loaded on a variety seemed that morning! I think it delayed us getting to the river a
of vehicles and a trailer and we were off. I remember wondering good half hour. We paddled that Sunday, my confidence slightly
better and I ran Widowmaker successfully.
what I was getting into as I loaded up in Don’s station wagon
with the rustic roof racks that were adhered to the roof strictly by
I knew after that trip that I was hooked on canoeing/kayaking-it
the forces of gravity (no apparent device holding it down). The
didn't matter if I would ever be good. The stories alone would
boats were of a variety of vintages, mostly fiberglass, with
ragged points at the bow, some had duct tape holding either the more than make up for it, along with plenty of interesting boaters
to observe. Then there was the river experience itself, an opporstern or bow together. Most had extra tape here and there to
tunity to hone decision-making skills, improve physical conditionprevent leaks. The majority were kayaks and the buzz was
ing, but mostly an opportunity to be outside on a river, away from
about laying up new ones in Sam’s backyard. I quickly realized
the crowded city. In addition, there was an entirely new vocabuthat boats were like cheese. The aged fiberglass boats with
lary that only a boater could understand, a fraternity built in calm
multiple patches, and scratches were probably the ones you
waters and in tough, dangerous rapids, but a camaraderie that
wanted to be around if you were interested in a good story with
would always prove interesting and endearing.
a glass of wine.
When we got to the river I had everything I needed except the
critical, drown proofing, life jacket. I will never forget how ticked
off Sam Moore was about that, giving me a succinct, but humiliating lecture in being “responsible for one’s own gear even if it
was borrowed”. Thankfully Mike Weeks drove all the way to
Links to related Bowline stories:
Jan/Feb00 The BWA Spring Clinic:Confessions of a First-Time
Paddler
NovDec99 The Novice pg 7
15
course to learn how to do pop-ups. There were so many
trips, clinics, rivers, and experiences - Ocoee, BSF, Obed,
Lower Gauley, Cheat, the New, the Drys of the New (so many
boulders and great drops), Nolichucky, Yough, Potomac,
Chattoga, Nanny, Maddy, etc. And of course, the Elkhorn for
quick winter trips. So many campgrounds and so many
restaurants - Mildred's (Don - did you go there only for the
banana pudding?) and the Blue Heron on the way back
home.
John, moved to Oregon a few years ago, but his heart and
mind still turns to his paddling days in the Southeast with the
friends he has in the BWA.
It Was The Tribe
That Kept Me Sane
John Dougherty
I can't tell you how important the BWA was to me in the 80s
and the early part of the 90s. It was the tribe that kept me
sane and helped me recover from a week of taxing work - it
was such a completely different experience to be on a river
that demands complete presence of mind and to be there
with such great people - for me it captured some pre-industrial age tribal spirit that nourished in some fundamental way.
Of course, tribes have their rituals (taking students down
Nemo for the first time), and their gods and goddesses (the
former with a six-pack and the latter dressed in rubber). I
missed the tribe so much that when I was on sabbatical in
DC for 12 months, I spent most of my weekends meeting up
with BWA folks in
WPA or in WVA, and
of course had to
come back to
Lexington for Barry
and Cynthias's New
Year's eve party to
welcome in 1988.
It was Beuren
who finally convinced me to try
whitewater boating.
I had been a flatwater - northern minnesota - treking portaging - mosquito-eating boater
before moving to
Lexington in '73.
Beuren had been
suggesting that I try
WW boating for years before I finally said yes. One of my
early trips in '81 or '82 was on the Chattoga in flood, where
Beuren assured me that it would be no problem to take my
double-hulled plastic lake-boat, with no way to brace my self
in and with no flotation, down Bull Sluice. Look at the size of
that eddy at the bottom - and . . . I'll be down there with a
throw rope. Of course I was reassured, and of course I was
trashed in the hole - but true to his word Beuren pulled me
out of the river before I got to Augusta and those nice folks in
Savannah sent my boat back real soon.
At the post-film festival parties, nobody, but nobody, ever,
ever, came close to beating me and Lythia Metzmeier in the
swimming pool dance contests. Of course boating makes
folks much better dancers, but I have to say that we were
outstanding in spontaneous and unrehearsed gyrations in
everything from dirty dancing to latin beats. There should be
a plaque at the swimming pool honoring our accomplishments during those professional-level performances.
Hanging around with Sally Rose and taking all those great
road trips with her were great and varied experiences. On
one trip we paddled a wilderness river in Ontario in the morning and were at a Eurythmic's concert (still dressed in
polypros, that evening).
Even though I am so far away and am not good at staying
in touch, I still feel connected to every BWA member that I've
ever shared an eddy, a beer, or a dessert buffet with. You
are in me still.
A few mysteries remain: Who is the clinic wrestling
champ? How many beers does it really take to get from the
stadium parking lot to Tsali or Frozen Head campground?
Who has not gotten fooled by double-suck? Is there a way
to get down pure screaming hell in an open boat without getting two tons of water in the boat? What ever happened to
the devil worshipping - child sacrificing cult that used to hang
out in the abandoned railroad tunnels on the road to the
BSF?
The answers are still out there, I believe.
For about 3 decades
if you wamted a new
boat, camping equipment, or anything to
have fun in the outdoors you talked to
“Tubbo”. He was
always “in the know”
because of his
knowledge and contacts in the industry.
Not only did he sell
everything you needed, he was an activive paddler and outdoor enthusiast who used all the toys
Buying a boat designed for whitewater (Nolan Whitesell's
50th Pirhana) made doing those rivers so much easier, espe- he told you about. A friend to all of us since the days of
cially after going to Madawaska. I also bought a Gyramax C- SAGE in the 70ies our outdoor pursuits would not have
been as much fun without him. Thanks Tubbo!
1 from Ed at RiverSports, for which I actually took an NOC
Steve “Tubbo” Morgan
Purveyor of our Toys
16
“Chief” is a unique character in his own right. He came to the
BWA with aspirations on becoming a stock broker or something like that.. But after swimming the Tellico for PM
Magazine and Sam Dick (...but not as much) he succumbed
to being a boater as his main interest in life. His story about
Dave Weiland reflects how he and all of us from those days
will always have a spot in our hearts and memories for “Dad”.
saw a nice looking lady in her early forties (close to his age)
with her younger daughter ( near my age) camping he boldly
introduced us as Father and Son. It didn’t seem to work on
the Ladies that night, but it really did seem to fit our relationship at the time, and it stuck. As I came to know Dave more
and more he became much like a father to me, often coun-
The BWA’s Most
Colorful Character
Of All Time
“John “Chief” Kulka
Over the course of its somewhat brief history, the
BWA has seen many a colorful character come and go.
This is a recollection of perhaps the BWA’s most colorful
character of all time Dave Weiland, better known as “Dad”
or Daddy or Pappy to some people; there will never be
another quite like him.
I first met Dave in 1980 at one of his first and my
first BWA meetings at the Joe Bologna’s on Southland Drive
in the Spring or Summer of 1980. He was married at the
time, living near Danville working for a food service company. Both he and his wife were open boaters, hence I did not
go out of my way to get to know him. As luck would have it
that summer was extremely dry with next to nothing in boating opportunities available for a green rookie like myself My
work scenario had me away from the Lexington scene until
the Spring of 1981.
The next time I remember Dave
was at a BWA Safety Symposium that
the club sponsored maybe in the
Spring of 1982. Jerry Hey spotted him
stumbling down the aisle at the event
and said, “see that guy, I think he is
definitely party material”. Over the
course of time, Dad would prove
Jerry’s observation to be most astute. I
remember a bash that evening involving lots of old-timer BWA types out at
Todds Road, back when the club tradition was to open a bottle of Wild
Turkey 101 and immediately toss the cap. The BWA gained
instant notoriety on a national level amongst paddlers.
Sometime after this event I begin to paddle more
frequently with Dave, we both had an affinity for playing
hooky from work during the week to paddle. Though Dave
was a line boater the fun usually did not start until after the
river had been run. Camping in the woods, drinking
“Wodka”, embellishing true and untrue stories (usually about
women), and cooking a night’s meal over a campfire, were
the things “Dad” really enjoyed most. It was during one of
these early trips together that Dad became Dad,
It happened one night camping at Frozen Head
while paddling the Obed. Like most horny healthy males,
Dad was always trying to score. He would always think up
the most novel ways to gain an angle to do such. When he
seling me on life’s problems. I always felt proud when he
introduced me as “his son”, perhaps filling a void left by my
real Father’s death some ten years prior. He would go on to
adopt more sibs into his family and even give them names
such as my bastard son, etc. Hopefully these memoirs and
anecdotes will inspire others to write.
The Japanese Revenge Weekend
It all started out during the middle of the week, perhaps the first time Dave & I played hooky together, when he
came up with one of his brilliant ideas to solve shuttle logistics. We would borrow a mini-bike /moped from the son of
one of his employees and nm our own shuttle. The kid in
Danville cranked it up in his yard, let Dad drive it around
some and then gave him a tutorial on how to start it, shuttle
problem solved. On down US 27 we did ride in the
Supertruck (a mid sixies Chevy pick-up with a campertop) to
the O&W bridge, we would paddle the BSF the next day. We
made a fire, content in our superior intelligence and problem
solving skills. Next morning after coffee (Dad was severely
addicted to caffeine) we pulled the shuttle savior from the
17
back of the truck After numerous attempts and profanities
neither Dad nor myself could get it to start, much less run
our shuttle. Our day was somewhat salvaged by running the
canyon section a couple of times. That afternoon, we
packed it up for the Obed and drove to Frozen Head to
camp. As we made the turn off TN 62 a backhoe pulled out
of the prison shop into the path of the supertruck. I was at
the helm and swerved to miss the backhole placing the
truck into a ditch leaning at about a 45 degree angle.
Crawling out the window I stepped on Dad’s face, he would
embellish this story with the smell of gasoline etc. making it
sound more perilous than it was, but that was Dad. The
guard / foreman of the prisoners took the leg chains off one
of the cons, hooked itto the Supertruck and pulled us from
the ditch. with the backhoe. Away we went on with our date
with destiny.
becoming grounds for their divorce.
The Squad Car was actually a series of vehicles driven by Dad that were also known by him as the “Company
Car”. He purchased special racks that would leave no tell
rack scratches on the rain gutters. The racks were not to be
seen by any one associated with his work much less with
boats upon them. The name squad car came one weekend
at the Chattooga River (Dad’s favorite river) one night of
hard partying. This particular ride was a Caprice Classic and
looked like, you guessed it, an unmarked cop car with boats.
Our behavior that weekend if witnessed by the Police would
have merited a ride in a Paddy Wagon. These corporate
cars did not have the elan of the
Supertruck nor perhaps of his
most infamous rig the Hotel
Truck.
We pulled in to the park and there was mom and daughter
doing the camping thing. Dave’s devious mind (penis) went
to work; and came up with the Father & Son angle. As I
mentioned before it did not work (like the moped) but it
stuck and grew. The next day we ran something in the
Obed. hiring a local, referred by a Mildred’s waitress, to run
shuttle. That evening ( a Friday) we hooked up with some
BWA folks and paddled for the rest of the weekend hauling
the Moped wherever we went. By this time Dave had
dubbed this hulk taking up space in the truck, reeking of
gasoline “The Japanese Revenge”. Sunday evening we
returned the “Japanese Revenge” to its teenage owner. Dad
explained and apologized for screwing up the bike, but the
kid looked at it and then cranked it up on the first try and
began riding circles around us, to our utter shock.
The Hotel Truck was
perhaps the best and worst of all
river vehicles ever to have traveled the Southeastern US and
beyond. This Ford van had a
huge cargo box behind the cab,
that Dave lovingly added hinged storage boxes for gear with
foam pads and carpet on top that could double as beds. He
also suspended two more bed spaces about four feet above
the cargo bays for sleep or more gear. It could haul upwards
of eight boats with ease, if you could reach the racks. Five
persons could ride in Winnebago type luxury and twelve or
more could squeeze in for shuttles. Gas cost were prohibitive though, even when shared by the masses pooling their
resources. One trip to the Rio Grande when a plug fouled or
timing jumped, it ran out of fuel several times, it wasn’t a
Miles Per Gallon equation but rather a Gallons Per Mile formula. Fortunately for my wallet I missed that trip, but I
understand it was a classic Dad trip(as most were). This
vehicle was not very stealth when it came to cops either.
There was a tale of Ric Weeks talking himself out of a ticket
while everyone in the back lay sprawled and passed out.
Again I missed this (mis)adventure. Nonetheless when
parked at a campsite, it was a party magnet. Many intoxicants were consumed in this vehicle perhaps making it the
most popular of all vehicles ever known in the BWA.
Strangers would comment in disbelief and admiration when
Dad and family would stagger out at the put-ins & take-outs.
The Supertruck, The Squad Car, The Hotel Truck
Like many boaters we are often remembered not for the
boats we paddle, but
instead the wheels that
haul our craft, Dad was
no exception to this rule.
As mentioned
before The Supertruck
was Dad’s original most
cherished rig. It was
about a 1965/66
Chevrolet with a camper.
It wasn’t really pretty, kind of drab looking, yet it was held
sacred in Dave’s eyes. He was convinced that it would go
anywhere and would never die. The secret to its success
was 30 weight, not multi weight, non-detergent oil, of which
one could find a can under the seat on the passengers side.
It was equipped with “the optional manual dome light” located in the ash tray. Yes, you got that right , you had to place
or remove the bulb by hand; who would want a switch? Dad
had a series of rules for his truck, perhaps previously
released in “Bow Lines” which are a bit fuzzy. Failure to
abide in these rules could lead to excommunication from his
family or general ostracation. Although, I speculate, I believe
that his second wife hated to be seen around his truck, thus
Dad Quirks
Dave used to describe all his gear in terms of how
much it cost versus what it really might be for. His Tekna
River Knife was the $50.00 knife, his Sling lite camp chair
was the $75.00 chair, his Mad River Explorer was the
$1000.00 boat “my Dick” bought to impress chicks as he
took them down the Ocoee ala tandem style. His tent was A
$ 350.00 North Face Bullfrog, that he used to try to get the
opposite sex interested in, but most seemed not to be
impressed with the tent. He was a gear junkie, rumor had it
that Don Spangler, Frank Loudermilk, and Dad kept the old
Sage store alive for a year or two longer than it could have
18
prophetic words, although many were “shocked” at the time.
Do BWA meetings still get bogged down with Elkhorn arguments?
Well I could go on and on about Dave “Dad”
Weiland but suffice it to say he was one of the most dearest
of fiiends and confidants I ever had the privilege of knowing
for about six years of my life. Tragically, Dave drowned on
the Crystal River in Colorado in the Summer of 1986. It was
some of the saddest news I ever
heard in my life; I
was shook; I felt
grief I cried lots. At
the Memorial service on The
Chattooga River; I
got to meet Dad’s
“real” family who
showed me the
same warmth and
acceptance that
Dave had done to
me. For that I am
very grateful Dad’s
ashes were spread
by his daughter
Denise at Seven
Foot Falls while his
families said their
good-byes. The
Gyromax and a squirt C-I, his most noted runs were done in next time you run Seven Foot Falls, bear in mind that Dad’s
a Mad River ME. Among them Section IV of the Chattooga ( spirit is there toying with some people’s runs (especially
too many times to count), The Upper Gauley, and the Grand rafters helping others stay on line and smiling approvingly at
all who seek adventure and’ escape on Pristine Rivers. Dad,
Canyon as well as numerous runs at Potter’s Falls for the
local fans. Perhaps not too Earthshattering by today’s stan- you might be gone, but I don’t think You’ll ever be forgotten;
at least by me.
dards; but considered quite a series of feats in the early
80’s.
Perhaps a side that few people knew about Dave
Links to related Bowline stories:
was his advocacy for human rights
after a visit to Chiapas paddling
May/June00 Remembering two beloved BWA Paddlers
the Rio Jatate’. He wrote letters
to Senators, Congressmen etc.
Nov/Dec99 Stacy King Remembered
about the injustices that were
occurring on the MexicanGuatemalan border. He also sent
Christmas presents to the Children of
some of the less fortunate locals he often hired to rum his
shuttles. A particular driver that I know still speaks reverently
of Dad and his generosity. To the unknowledgeable he could
seem rough, crude, and honery, which he could be at times.
He was not afraid to say what he thought often to the consternation of those who took an opposite view. Perhaps my
favorite example of that occurred one BWA meeting when
the dreaded discussion of The Elkhorn access came up,
circa 1983 (boaters have had to buy land to resolve this
issue just recently). Some people explained how they were
talking with the Soffley’s to settle our differences, when they
gave Dad the floor he stated, “I say we quit kowtowing to
BWA Old Timers in the making at the 25th Reunion
the b**** and take manners into our own hands”. Quite
survived without them.
Dad had his favorites too; his favorite river and trip was an
overnighter on the Chattooga; he was extremely fond of any
overnighter and loved to be king of the kitchen. His favorite
band was The Eagles, he would ask strangers where ‘she
came from” they were cool in his book if they could answer:
Providence the one in Rhode Island. He loved to drink
“Wodka” cocktails but ‘couldn’t smoke that skit”. He wore
shirts with epaulets that made him look like an official of
some type, once even confusing a college kid at Frozen
Head into thinking he was THE Ranger and confiscating his
joints. He felt Paddling was a form of therapy for him (I’m
sure many of us would agree).. Although he C-led a
19
up. “Oh, you’re gonna run this.” As I enter my boat, Ed Puterbaugh
holds a straight pin, vertically, and laughingly says , “ I bet I couldn’t
get this up your ass with a sledgehammer . “ He too, was right.
And, except for that 60 second parallel pin at the lip of the 17 foot
drop, the run was clean. Don loses the pictures.
Summers on the Ocoee. When there were no rafts, occasionally one other group ( Brothers) and Rich Lewis , who started 6
months ahead of me and has stayed there ever since. Talented,
analytical, and the best of teachers. (No kidding, he taught the profoundly mentally handicapped, so it wasn’t ABC, but A1, A2, A3,
until you got A, then B. We played follow the leader, trying to conjure the hardest lines so the one behind was hosed. We would
paddle a week at a time and river was all ours. Thank you, Rich,
Frank Loudermilk
and Bless you.
Another week at Madawaska . With the Chief, whom I had
So Don asks me to write something for the 30yr BWA newsletter.
taught
to roll and deep scull. He was pitiful at first, but he never
I am sitting on the deck at the put in of Lower Howard’s Creek.
doubted
himself. He would become an NOC guide and instructor.
Buzzed by hummingbirds, serenaded by cicadas, with 4 drowsy
About
that time, as I had it bad for boating, I kept calling Sam
dogs at my feet. Cynthia found this place for me, paddling up to
Moore
to
take me somewhere that was too easy for him. Hey, you
me at a pool session at the YWCA in Jan ’84. “ I found the perfect
need
to
call
Rich Williams. He was a student at Morehead who
house for you.” She was right, as usual.
had
been
calling
Sam too. So Rich, aka Moose, and I went out
I look down the trail and see my first boat, the original mirage
and
swam
a
bunch
of class 2 stuff, effectively getting the two of us
with plastic pillars, now planted with impatiens popping up through
out
of
Sam’s
hair.
circular holes in the bow, stern and cockpit. I did an overnighter on
Rich Lewis, Moose and I and another big group go to
the Upper Gauley in that. Tubbo and I. Tub was a pro back then,
Madawaska
in “82. I am stoked. For advanced rating, you need to
manager of ACE rafting. Talks me into a right middle run of Sweet’s
clean
40
gates
in a class 2-3 continuous rapid. We go there early
Falls. (Last time, I was further right than I’ve ever been. Never even
and
paddle
the
Ottawa several times before the course. I had
got my hair wet … Gee, I dunno, I never had any problems with
even
resorted
to
training. 2 1/2 miles lap swims, weights, runSweet’s.) Tubbo leads, jams his
ning…
So
I
sleep
in the day of the test, missing the morning sespaddle in a rock and disappears
sion.
This
was
day
7 of paddling, and even God, right, took a day
over the drop sans paddle. I am
off.
Our
instructor
is
a totally buff 18 year old Dana Chladek, 4th in
just behind him , pretty far right,
the
world
at
that
time
and future silver medalist in Barcelona and
and IN the hole. Let’s just say, 30
Atlanta
in
whitewater
slalom.
Right off, she starts busting my balls
lbs of gear in the stern of a 13
about
missing
the
morning
session.
I am in the sack, mentally
foot boat, with that hydrology,
making
every
stroke
through
40
gates.
Never mind, I nailed the
lends itself to a pretty dynamic
course.
“Maybe
you
should
consider
an
exercise program?” says
backender.
Dana.
Further down the trail is my
The next day, Moose and I pull her boat, gear and gasping body
second boat , another mirage ,
from
Big McCoy.
also filled with impatiens. Three
Nov
’83, Grand Canyon. 30,000 CSF. I have never seen anyGrand Canyon trips, one at flood.
thing
like
this. 20 foot standing waves. I am having a crisis of confiSo how do I summarize a
dence.
Moose
is cool with the whole scene. So, I start hanging
thousand days on the river and
with
him.
He
is
now the Mgr of ACE on the New, and has been
countless more partying with the BWA in the 2 pages our august
boating
7
days
a week. As we arrived at the top of some big drop,
newsletter editor has allotted me?
Moose
would
crane
his neck, scouting then turn and look at me
It was 1980. I was young, strong and possibly even handsome. I
saying,
“Hey
Fat
Boy,
get up here and lead this drop.” I knew,
borrowed Ken Pyles’ aluminum canoe, hitched the shuttle and ran
deep
down,
Moose
didn’t
want to kill me. A few days of that, and
the north fork of the Elkhorn by myself . I thought I was Lewis And
my
mojo
returned.
Clark . I was hooked. I get an ABS Mad River Explorer from Tubbo
Did I mention Moose made the US team in Whitewater
at Sage Outfitters in Louisville .Sam Moore outfitted it for me so it
freestyle,
competing in the “93 worlds? He boated 20 days on the
could be rolled. (The first open boat to do the Grand, only a year
Poudre
last
month. He will come to the reunion if his rock band is
before.)
not
playing.
As
he is partial to the S8 235, I am making a plea to
August 1980, a group of 13 attend Madawaska Kanu Kamp in
our
beloved
club
pres to spot him his boat.
Ontario. I am the only open boat and am put in a kayak. I swim
Summer
“84
The
Grand at 43,000… Big Water.
my ass off for 4 days and am too tired to boat, if that’s what you call
Observation.
All
my
first swims were rescued by Don Spangler.
it, on Friday.
Attentive,
safety-minded
companion? Or jinx? To this day, who’s to
Feb 17, 1981 first whitewater roll on the Elkhorn. It was cold.
say?
Spring “81 Crooked Fork. My first harder than class 2 run. I carry
Oct “84. Barry Grimes discovers video. The lost Ocoee weekmy boat down below Potter’s Falls. A helpful friend carries it back
It is unfortunate that Frank decided that being a doctor was
a good way to make money. He would have made a great
comedic poet. In fact, while he has had some tough competition from other wantabe poets in the club, he is often
looked on as the poet laureate of the BWA. This is
because of the fame of one of his major works of poetry,
“The Ballad of McCauley B”.
A River
Runs Through It,
No SH**
20
end followed by the first Costa Rica trip that December. We learn how the camera makes you brave.
There are too many stories. Still hanging with B6, C6. That’s the first call I make .If something local is running, he knows. If he can go,
he’s there. He usually is. We probably did 50-60 local runs in “04. He still shreds.
Things I’ve seen from a boat….. Toucans, sloths, blue morpho butterflies, grey whales, whale sharks, sea lions, bald eagles, osprey,
blue footed boobies, 4 species of carnivorous plants, mountain sheep, mink, fox, great horned owls, phosphorescent plankton at night,
howler monkeys……Mike Weeks bathing.
It’s a sport that’s a little bit dangerous. You drive a long way to get to some river. (As John Davis would reply to “How do you get to --any river “– you get in the back of somebody’s car, you drink a bunch of beer , and you’re there”) You spend the day paddling and looking out for one another. If somebody gets in trouble, everything stops. You spend the nights partying, camping and busting each others
balls. It is an activity that lends itself to making close friendships.
There is something about paddling that transcends ordinary consciousness. Carving a wave, simultaneously dynamic and still puts
you completely in the Present. There is no other reality. There is no room for anything else.
Not much has changed really. The boats are shorter. The camp chairs are bigger. But the older I get, the better I used to be.
So Don, there’s your 2 pages, 26 years of BWA. The first 26, anyway…. frank
And they heard a scream
Like a horrible dream,
and the tent did heave and twitch.
And they heard a shout
Get the f___ out!
I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch!
And there he stood
Feeling quite good,
His urine flowing free.
And said out loud
Quite fierce and proud
Don't ever f___ with me.
McCawley B.
Like a big oak tree,
Had muscles like hard stone.
He could row and drink
Like the missing Link
Had children of his own.
And the ground would quake
And his comrads shake
the battle would ensue.
All who would hear
would cry in fear
As he gave the mouse his due.
That very night
We heard of the fight,
And humbled we all felt.
And we gave the man
A hearty hand
And a championship belt.
McCawley B.
We could all see
Was tottering on the sand
His Bloodshot eyes
As big as pies.
His flashlight in his hand.
He swung and missed
Then growled and hissed.
As the interloper fled.
He tossed and moaned
Then he flailed and groaned
"I’ll bash its f______ head."
A belt of gold
We are told
Silvered, rubied, and pearled.
A fitting catch
For he won the match
Of loser leave the world.
He'd had too much
Of beer and such
And simply too much fun
He waved goodby
What a strange guy.
He thought his day was done.
He raised his arm
With little charm
And pounded hard away.
The mouse it thought
If it got caught,
That it would die that day.
He beamed with pride
And glowed inside,
As the new champ was crowned
With balls as large
As a river barge
And a d___ that could drag the ground.
The fire grew dim
And I looked at him
As he ambled off to bed
He could little know
What lurked below
Waiting to be fed.
McCawley B.
So filled with glee,
He dropped his jungle hat.
He took his aim
Then nailed his game
And squashed the bastard flat.
When tales are told
of the brave and bold
On the Colorado River.
Of deeds so daring
And downright scaring
Crown men start to shiver,
He unzipped his tent
His energy spent
and lay down for a rest.
He closed an eye
And heaved a sigh,
Then the Beast ran over his chest
And we would see
That McCawley B.
A boatman brave and true.
Was tough enough
And up to snuff
To mash that mouse to goo.
He stands alone
A class of his own,
A light for the world to see, A hulk of a man
With massive glands
And his name is McCawley B.
Like desert plain
where cacti reign,
The mousie must have thought.
He little knew
By this miscue,
What vengence he had wrought
The Mouse just slain
Had felt no painAnd McCawley had to pee.
With heartfelt loss
And a mighty toss,
He burried it at sea.
Bowlines Jan/Feb 84
The Ballad of
McCauley B.
(Rated R)
21
John Davis came to us from Wisconsin much as you expect
someone from that state: He knew how to make Usingers
sausage (American’s finest) and drink lots o’ beer. We got him to
enjoy Kentucky food (beans and cornbread) but he never really
handled his bourbon too well. (ha!) He use to bring big batches
of Usingers sausages back from his Wisconsin visits that we
would cook in beer and butter before we grilled them and wash
them down with beer. Nowadays he comes back to visit
Kentucky, not so much for the food (he is a Californian now you
see), but to visit his friends in the BWA. You might say we have
become an important part of him and he a part of us.
If you want to witness video as art, view some of the video he
has entered in the NPFF over the years. My favorites were
“Heart of Dampness” and “Dawn Ballet”. John’s professionalism
as a videographer taught us a lot about what to look for in the
entries at the NPFF.
I learned at my first clinic that that even being underfed and pissed
off, the BWA were cool in the face of a crazed man with a long barreled pistol.
I learned that canoes are noble crafts that can run anything a kayak
can.
I learned not let Don pool the extra resin in the hull of my boat.
I learned breathing Vinyl Ester resin will make you loopy when you
scream curse words doing the inside seems on a glass C-1.
I learned that you will have both booties sucked off if you miss a
stroke on the Ottawa River and go into Big McCoy’s hole.
I learned that it’s more shameful to not throw the Wild Turkey cork
away than it is to be found in the woods sleeping with your pant’s
around with your knees ( Not Me)
I learned Bo Diddle will run your shuttle at the Caney Fork.
Always great to see you John!
This I Have
Learned
John Davis
My first encounter with the BWA was at the forks of the
Elkhorn. I had bought a canoe, an OCA from Tubbo in
Louisville. I bullshitted him about how much paddling I had
done. I don’t think he bought it but was happy to take my
money. I had floated a section of the Greenbrier in West
but God. It was class 2/3 at best and yes, we were drinking. So, yes I was an experienced paddler …wasn’t I?
A few weeks later, after surviving Prince to Thurmond on
the New and scanning Bob Sehlinger’s “Canoeing&
Kayaking Guide to Kentucky” I saw that the Elkhorn was
white hot! (My words.) So…on Saturday my girlfriend
Heather and I threw the boat on my 65 Dodge Dart and
headed towards Franklin County in the rain. It was at that
time there was a convergence. Me being a moron, The
Elkhorn running at 3.5 ft and rising and Ed Puterbaugh
being wise and waiting on a shuttle in the rain. Thankfully,
Ed saw through my posturing that I had a clue, (“What
dam?”) and suggested the creek might be a tad high. Ed
invited us to a club meeting the following Tuesday. So with
that kind act Ed and his group were kept from participating
in a body recovery(Heather and me) and I found the tribe
known as the BWA.
The meeting was fun. Sat next to Don and Burean and
across from Charles Andre and Jerry O’Conner. Who
would have thought that that one act would create lifetime
friends, decades of adventure and more memories and
stories than I can recall.
So, what have I learned about the BWA and it’s myriad of
characters?
John taping Kent Ford & Charlie during making of river safety
video “Whitewater Self Defense”.
I learned that if YOU think it is class 5…it is.
I learned to turn left at the goat on top of the VW bug to find Gladys
Breeden’s restaurant.
I learned Mildred had the best biskets and gravy.
I learned that you will lose your pals to illness and that you have to
smile on their memory and go on.
I learned how to drink a cocktail through a head net on the Sand
River
I learned an overnighter on Sections 2,3 and 4 of the Chattooga with
Burean and Don is the best!
I learned to never leave the cooler of beer at the put in.
I learned to trust my friends with my life.
I learned you can backendered 6 times in a single hole on Benson
Creek at Flood.
I learned when Rick Weeks runs you over with his jeep. You have to
get up and boat the next day.
I learned I can find a chiropractor every day in upstate New York after
I pop my neck out on the Hudson Gorge.
22
was wrong.
I learned that dancing with Lythia, Cynthia and Sali Bob in the rain
and ankle deep mud at the Gualey festival is real partying.
I discovered this anomaly early in the class when Dale
Perry brought in his fake dog poop to throw on the classroom floor. After this incident, when discussing first aid, I
couldn’t talk about prophylaxis without Tim Miller giggling
like a girl. Then there was Bill (Beel) Lynch who mentioned
his full sized blow-up doll during our discussion of inflatable devices. At one point I actually had to stop class and
reprimand everyone for constantly straying from their
assigned tasks, the whole time thinking, “These guys are
old enough to know better.” I was wrong.
I learned that Don will flush through a narrow sieve as we ignored
him swimming while we surfed it up. But his watch won’t.
I learned that when you are swimming into Lower Kenny at 6 ft. and
Sam Moore sez “John, you have to let go of my boat now. Don’t
worry, you have a real good line”, you must have faith.
I learned that if you put your tent too far out in the woods to find it…
you can find warmth under Mike Weeks family tent.
I learned Ed is the HEAD Puterbaugh.
I learned you can lose one of you best friends on the Crystal River in
Colorado.
I learned the “Worm” was a sweet surfing open boat.
I learned that Hard Tongue Falls on the Tygert Gorge was a simple
move for a lefty C-1’er, but it is still was scary.
I learned that Chief’s two favorite beers are free and cold.
I learned that they do things different in Polk County Tennessee.
The water skills portion of the class seemed to go better.
The BWAers were actually paying attention. They asked to
see demonstrations of the water skills. Then they asked to
see them demonstrated again. I thought, “Well, they might
not pick things up as
quickly as my 16-year old
students, but at least they
care about learning the
skills correctly.” I was
wrong.
I learned Upper Potters Falls was easier before breakfast.
As it turns out, the “victim” for these demonstrations was my cute, 22I learned I miss the rivers of the Southeast, Frozen Head and
year old, well-endowed
Rattlesnake Ridge.
female assistant who,
I learned to buy beer on Saturday cuz Sunday you might not get any. during the rescue, was
positioned on her back on
I learned that after 15 runs, I don’t know how to run Sock’em Dog
a floating tube, her arms
with out flipping.
splayed glamorously
above her head, her perfect chest poised invitingI learned that the random act of sitting down with Don at
ly high above the water.
that first BWA meeting can change your life. I fell into a
clan that cared for me as much as I did care for them. As in She was the only thing
that the male BWAers in
all families, there have been disputes, and we got over
them. So in the end there has been a bond made for all of the class cared about
seeing. The drool genertime. Happy 30th!
ated during these demonQuick of wit and a bit mischievous at times Kathy is alway fun strations raised the water
level in the pool a full 2
to have on a paddling trip. She has served as newsletter ediinches.
tor (not an easy task) twice over the years and has steped
I learned that Mike Molnar’s tent is the best tent to put up in a tree.
Kathy in Desolation Canyon on
the Green River, Utah
forth to do it once more. Thanks Kathy!
We finally got through the entire 27-hour class, amid struggles, laughter (you can’t do anything with Marrea
Matthews without finding humor in your endeavors), lunch
trips to Jozo’s, and the final test. All of the BWAers passed
the class, and I ended up joining a group that introduced
me to some of the best friends I’ve ever had. So thanks,
Kathy Rose
Dale, for the dog poop that kicked things off, and thanks to
all of the other BWAers in that lifeguarding class who
started me down the road (or river, if you will) to the BWA.
My introduction to the BWA started with a lifeguarding
Like our web site says: You can paddle any river! You
class that I taught in early 1999. Out of 11 people in the
class, 10 were BWA members. Most of these 10 were age can’t always find friends this good!
30-something: the time of life where you assume maturity
and discretion are the rules rather than the exceptions. I
Class…Class…Class…
SHUT UP!
And Thank You!
23
“Bubba” is part of the young “dudes” who are now the club and
who are just as enthusiastic about it and paddling as earlier
generations were. Many things may have changed, but there is
no lack those who are optimistic about the BWA! May there
always be lots of rain for you!
Reflections….
Phillip “Bubba” Sisk
As the current President of the BWA, I thought it appropriate to
give a few reflections on the club. Don first pointed out a few
months ago that the BWA was “turning 30” this year. Since I’m
practically the same age as the club, it’s obvious that I haven’t
been around for very much of its life. However, one of the
enduring traits of the BWA is the livelihood of some of its early
membership. It is through the continued support, activity, and
excitement from founding members and those who have more
history with the club that inevitably brings this group that much
closer together.
In my short six-year membership, I’ve been fortunate
enough to see this support and history firsthand. At my first
BWA event, Dave Margavage was my instructor for the spring
clinic. He continued showing me and some other new members
down several of our first runs. Off the river, he displayed in true
BWA fashion, how
to have a good
time. He shared
stories from past
clinics and club
parties, and we did
our share to create
some future stories
of our own. We
took two trips out
west, and I learned
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil… or the ropes from
something.
someone who was
willing to pass on his experience. I’m ready to show Super down
one a new creek or two and return the favor. Dave stepped up
years ago to take on the NPFF Director’s role. He’s recently
moved aside, but in true BWA fashion, Todd Garland is there to
carry it on.
Through Dave and the NPFF, I met local legends Dr. Frank and
YT. Frank has always been willing to share advice ever since
that first time he did so “Dear Abby” style on Benson creek when
I was stressed about making it off the river in time for a date with
the girlfriend’s parents. I’ve since seen him surf countless
waves, often times with only one hand as the paddle lay across
his shoulder, a wide smile on his face. One particular surf session comes to mind, when Frank and I enjoyed the section of
waves above the take-out on the main Otter, catching as many
as possible to end a work day. Still seeing the famous face from
early NPFF entries brings a connection back to those years.
YT is yet another example of continued support and
activity. I’ve gotten to know YT from his willingness to step up
and volunteer, specifically in regard to the NPFF treasury posi-
tion and sponsor contacts. He never asks what he can do; he
simply takes control of what needed to be done. His excitement
to help out just causes is admirable. I have gotten to know
Mackey Williams and his son Tyler, both BWA members during
their time here in
Lexington. I have since
had the pleasure to “ go
big” out west with
Mackey, and be shown
down the Upper Yough
by his son, Tyler.
Mackey’s excitement for
the outdoors and paddling remains, and he is
always ready for a new
adventure. This year I’ve
Mackey taking in the
Crested Butte scenery
been fortunate enough to
meet Chief and Betsy. Every time we’ve gotten together, it has
been another unforgettable trip. He willingly shares his knowledge of paddling logistics, trip planning, and
level know-how as well
as reliving old BWA trips
and parties. We’ve
caught a couple of great
creeks together, and I’m
anxious to get back out
with them and Mackey.
A couple of
folks who’s faces are
staples in the BWA history Chief boof’n Oh Yeah! on Little Clear
books truly bridge the gap
with all the new members - B6, C6 and Don Spangler. Barry
has done so much for the paddling community as a whole, not
only the BWA and NPFF. I’ve learned many old stories of BWA
legends through the Grimes’ while sitting around a campfire or
morning coffee. Barry’s dedication to keeping the BWA
traditions alive is as strong
now as I imagine it was in the
beginning. C6 is still as willing as ever to lead anyone
down a new run and share a
beer at the takeout. How
B6 liking what he finds in Sal’s Hole many of you BWAer’s folon a high Muddy Day
lowed her down the Lower G
for your first time? I did. After getting Barry into the sport and
now raising two wonderful kids to be great paddlers, the Grimes’
are a true whitewater family.
Don is another pillar of commitment. In working with
Don the two years I was in charge of the BWA clinic, it became
obvious to me what he was about. Don cares about this club
and cares about doing things right. He’s one to not only give
advice, but to volunteer himself to take care of it. The amount of
work he puts into the BWA might go unnoticed by some, but not
me, and I hope not you. Don has remained our Cyber Master
for as long as I can remember and for the last year has stepped
up and been churning out some of the best Bowline editions I’ve
read. All of this, and his willingness to mix up one of his infa-
24
mous drink concoctions, make him a person I’m glad to call a
friend. Through Don, I was able to meet Sam Moore and Steve
“Tubbo” Morgan. These two came back to the clinic when called
upon to help make the pig roast come alive and leave another
mark in the BWA history books. That is just another “lead by
example” that we could all stand to remember when the club
needs a helping hand.
The folks I reference here are simply
a few of the many personas out there keeping
the BWA alive and well.
My point was not to single someone out but
instead bring attention
to what has been done
before us, what continues to be done today, Old Fart BWAers Dinger, Weeks, Moore
and Tubbo cooked the pig at the 2004
and what we can do in
clinic.
order to keep the BWA
as fruitful for future generations as it is for us. The BWA hasn’t
made itself over the last 30 years; it’s taken the hard work, the
creativity, the planning, and the ideas of a group of people.
Today you’re celebrating in what has evolved, with a great
opportunity to add your own mark. Maybe 30 years from now I
will have influenced the paddling career of a future member like
so many of the people above influenced me. Happy Birthday,
BWA, and job well done to its members.
2. Have the maximum number of vehicles involved in the
shuttle.
3. Always have several vehicles that have no purpose in the
shuttle left at various points along the way (red herrings).
4. If possible, pick roads where there are no maps, no signs,
no pavement, and are nearly impassable.
II. Always act like you know exactly what's going on - even if you don't.
The object is to have the' masses maintain confidence in your plan,
even if you've lost confidence.
III. Never commit yourself entirely to the plan until the end of the shuttle.
A. If the plan works and the shuttle runs smoothly, that is the
time to claim glory for your accomplishments.
B. If the plan does not work, and there are lots of angry peo
ple looking for someone to blame, pretend that you have no
idea who came up with that crazy plan anyway. Possible
suggestions for addendums to the Plan Proper (2) (good for
added confusion, difficulty and cheap thrills).
1. Miscellaneous paddlers from Ohio and Indiana who want
to join on the shuttle (particularly exciting if they are not paddling the same river).
2. Designated times and places for members of the group to
change clothes, eat and use bathroom (wonderful for calming down hyper and psyched out novices).
The Master Plan
As the glory of the safety and rescue symposium fades into the sunset, and members of the BWA head into the paddling season with
great stories of new knowledge, it came to my attention that there is
one area of paddling where the average boater is sorely lacking in skill
and knowledge: the shuttle.
In order to consider oneself a truly well-rounded paddler, it, is necessary that one be able to arrange and put into practice a precise, systematic and efficient shuttle. In an effort to be helpful (good BWA
members- are always helpful), I have put together. a list of recommendations for devising a Master Shuttle Plan (designed for anywhere
from 10 -100 people), that even the most novice paddler can put into
practice -- given an IQ of 50 or above.
I. The name of the game is CONTROL. There are several ways to
attain this:
A. Confusion - This is your best toll for control. Simply make
sure that you are the only person that knows what the entire Master
Plan is and how to accomplish it.
1. It sometimes helps to use bigwords that nobody knows
the meaning of to describe the plan, e.g. circuitous turn.(!)
B. Degree of Difficulty - Be sure that your plan is as complicated as possible. Remember: The best plans are those which are
almost impossible to carry out. Helpful Hints:
3. Several transfers of boats and gear along the shuttle route
(great for confusion).
Follow these simple guidelines and you too can create a Master Plan
on your next trip.
Pam Weeks from Bowlines May 1982
BWA’s First Woman President
Brigid DeVries
Brigid was elected in 1992 and 1993. She was an active
paddler of both OC-1 and OC-2 and boated extensivly in
the SE with trips in California,
Maine and Utah. She introduced
theme potlucks at our gatherings, ie.
Mexican, Cajun, Italian, etc. Brigid
led an all womens team that included her with Lythia Metzmier and
Marrea Mathews that finished second in the women’s division at the
NOC Spring Triathlon. She also
managed two rather notorious guys who were her VP’s:
Weeks and Sockeye. I am sure that experience help prepare her for present job as Commissioner of the KHSAA!
1. Have at least 3 or 4 different put-ins and take outs.
25
BWA is Celebrating it’s 30th!
“Old Timers”!
Hey! “Young Dudes”!
Are the young guys as tuff
as they claim to be?
Can the “old” guys party like
they say they used to?
Can they stay on the stool
better in the rope game?
Can they recognize and name
more rapids than you?
Can they really paddle
those “tiny” whimpy boats.
Come find out at the 30th
Reunion Party!
Come and pass the Turkey at the Bonfire and tell your paddling story!
Camping and Activties at
Outdoor Adventure Rafting
(O.A.R.) Welcome Valley Road
Directions to OAR:
Club provides main course Sat. Nite
http://www.raft.com/dirctions.htm
Plan to bring potluck to share
(Pay OAR for Camping)
Please RSVP with Bubba at: pwsisk0@engr.uky.edu
Be There! October 13-14-15
More Info will be posted as
available at:
www.surfbwa.org
on the events page
BWA meetings are at Sontino's, 450 Southland Drive, Lexington,Ky.
Meetings held Second Tuesday of every month at 7:30pm
To eat during the meeting come a little early so you can place your order before the meeting starts.
For up-to-date info on meetings always check www.surfbwa.org
Bluegrass Wildwater Association
PO Box 4231
Lexington, Ky. 40504