We have all experienced days that become lifetime memories, and waking up in a tent knowing that the day’s journey will be one to remember is an exciting feeling. That excitement was mixed with a hidden concern because none of us knew what to expect as we loaded our canoe and kayaks to paddle down the untamed Chattooga River, made famous by John Boorman’s 1972 movie, “The Deliverance.”
The current was swift from the start, but our boats easily tackled the initial rapids that we faced. Our group consisted of six explorers. Michael Mayeaux and I paddled the canoe, which carried most of the camping gear and food for the two-night trip. Dawson Jordan, Daniel Vance, Ryan Stephens, and David Price were all using their own kayaks. Each kayak was weighted down to the max with camping supplies, to distribute some of the burden off of the canoe. Dawson in fact, had to paddle his kayak with his 30-pound backpack in his lap. He struggled to move his arms freely while paddling, and Mike joked that it would be interesting to watch him navigate the first real rapid. Ryan had a giant Harley Davidson helmet, and even though there was concern through the outfit that he might not make it, Ryan’s sit-on-top kayak was better suited for the journey than any of our boats.
This trip was in late October, and the colorful leaves on the mountain side became visible after the sun burned away the fog. It was not long before we heard the roaring sound of the first rapid. The rapid loomed ahead where the river seemed to cut off, and mist rose behind it. The river could be seen extending to the next bend, but we could not see enough to judge the drop. Mike turned around saying, “This is where we find out if we’re up to the task!” I yelled at Dawson to take the rapid first. My boat had more supplies, making my boat more valuable than him. Dawson refused and so Mike and I paddled full steam ahead into the rapid. The nose of the canoe plunged into the rapid and hit a rock. The boat rolled sideways kicking us both into the river. I swam to the cooler to see Dawson and the rest of the crew gliding through effortlessly. Ryan hollered back, “Thanks for showing us the way.” Mike and I gathered our supplies with Daniel’s help, and what followed was the complete and total destruction of morale and supplies.
I packed my fly rod with intentions to catch some trout, but the need to survive was greater so I seldom attempted making a cast. The river split three ways between some boulders, and our five boats chose different routes. David lined his kayak for the rapid and raced through. Darting side to side in the rocks, he saw the main channel and lined up for the exit. Ryan’s boat suddenly appeared from another direction and David flipped himself to avoid a collision, losing his paddle. Mike and I were on land and saw David bobbing through the rapid. Mike held a tree and supported me to reach out for David. His boat was recovered as well but the paddle was gone. Mike gave his paddle to David and we hopped back in the canoe. The next rapid was a drop of several feet and Mike clinched the rails as I paddled from the stern. I could not keep my speed and steer at the same time and we knew that this pass would be ugly. Daniel came to the rescue at the last second and dropped his paddle from a cliff. Mike caught it and together, we made it through the drop.
Gone was the idea that we would keep anything dry. Daniel’s sleeping bag was soaked, and because of the weight, he cut it loose. Dawson was swimming down the river after his backpack, and I leaned down to pick up a helmet that was floating by. I myself, had accepted the fact that my boat would be swamped at the end of each rapid. The bow dug into the water and our goal was to balance the canoe as if riding a log.
The most memorable snapshot of the day was when Dawson approached a waterfall in his kayak. He was confidently lined up for the fall when the bow hit a rock and spun him around backwards. He tried to paddle away from the falls but the water was too powerful and sucked him backwards. Dawson quit paddling when it was too late, and he looked up at me with a chest sinking-wide eyed stare before disappearing over the falls. His empty kayak corkscrewed back up out of the water. The rest of the kayaks followed, some successfully but most flipped. Mike and I took the canoe down and the nose plunged beneath the surface but came back up and we had made it.
David found a capsized canoe with two Marines swimming to collect their supplies. They ended up paddling with us for the rest of the day. Nearing the next rapid, Daniel suggested that we approach it one at a time.  Dawson, Daniel, Mike, myself, and the Marines were packed together. Without time to make a plan, all four boats were sucked into the narrow gauntlet. My canoe was skipping sideways along the rocks while Mike and I pushed against the rocks with our paddles. A bump came from the other side and a kayak floated underneath us. The man on the bow of the Marine’s canoe was bailing water when the bow dove and flipped over; their cooler busting on the next rock. The calm water at the base of the rapid was littered with supplies. We all swam in the cold mountain water to find what was ours. One kayak had five cracks running the whole length of the boat and another had two holes in the bow. Neither vessel was watertight at this point and duct tape was used to outlast the day. Dawson crawled up a rock and asked, “What are we doing all the way up here? This ain’t our country.”
The sun sets fast in the mountains and we had to make camp before dark to dry our supplies. The temperature was to drop to 35 degrees and all of our things were wet. Ryan climbed a rock to look ahead and found a good sandy beach that we could camp on. Looking back at the river, his kayak was drifting into a rapid. Ryan ran across the rocks and dove onto the kayak. He spun around into his seat and disappeared through a wave. Dawson entered the rapid without a paddle and quickly flipped. I was right behind him and my canoe spearheaded his kayak. David was dragging his sunken boat out of the still water at the base of the rapid. My canoe was filled to the brim and we eased the boat ashore next to the Marine’s canoe.
There was no time to recover. The sun was setting and the temperature was dropping. Daniel and I climbed the mountain looking for firewood while everyone else stayed at camp to pitch tents and dry sleeping bags over the fire. There was no firewood to be found at the base so Daniel and I had to climb up and down to deliver the wood. I was exhausted and found a tree to rest at. The longer I sat, the more difficult it became for me to get up and move again. I heard Daniel walking nearby and was able to get up and finish the job.
The Marines were in their tent with a map trying to determine how much longer we had to go the next day. We sat together in their tent with a light trying to pinpoint our position but it was no use. I knew of only two landmarks on this river and those were our starting and finishing points. David was cooking ham, rice, corn, and beans over the fire with Dawson and Mike. Dawson came to the tent and asserted that nothing of this world could put him back in that boat. He and Mike were determined to hike up the mountain to the nearest road, and hitch-hike to the parking lot where the car was. “You can pick any direction to walk and you will eventually find a road.” Dawson insisted, but I argued that he should stay. Daniel piped in saying, “There is a difference between camping, and making it. If we stay here, then we’re just trying to make it. We don’t need to prove that we can make it.” He paused, and asked Dawson, “How would we leave? And where would we go?” That instantly muffled out the mutiny.
After eating a hot meal, the eight of us sat around the fire reliving the adventures and horrors of the day. It was getting cold and those who still had sleeping bags were drying them over the fire. The two marines had some jokes and they kept us all laughing well into the night. We were all tired and decided to go to sleep. Ryan molded the sand under his tent to fit him, and Mike stayed with Ryan. Dawson and David stayed in a tent and Daniel slept in my tent. Daniel wore all of his jackets because he lost the sleeping bag. The jackets were all wet and we ended up unzipping the sleeping bag to use as a blanket.
It took forever for the sun to rise and neither of us slept well in the cold. Ryan touted that it was the best night sleep of his life while we cooked breakfast. We loaded the boats and paddled to the first trail we could find.
Upon reaching a trail, Dawson and Mike hiked up the mountain to find a car. We sat around on the rocks waiting for hours, taking turns casting the fly rods for trout with no luck. To our relief, Mike came scrambling down the trail and the truck was waiting for us on the road. The last feat of the weekend had come, but the thought of the Waffle House All Star Special got us through as we toted our boats and gear up the path.
The Chattooga River’s elevation change from where we started, to where we finished was a difference of 700 feet. That elevation difference was divided through many rapids that our team of kayakers, trained on the Little Pee Dee, were able to successfully navigate. It was new territory and challenged everyone in the crew, but we were successful in claiming new dirt.
Several weeks later, Dawson pulled into the parking lot of SunRift Adventures. He had the broken kayaks in the back of his truck and asked an employee to repair them. The man looked at the broken and battered kayaks and said, “These things are hard to sink!” “So one would think,” Dawson said.