In This Issue: Prehistoric TimesBack In The Good Old DaysHappy Birthday BWA--many more!Thanks For The MemoriesWhere Are They Now?Bravado.....and AgeThe BWA And FoodThirty Years of BWA Fun-damentalismSome snips of BWA history....

Newsletter of The Bluegrass Wildwater Association July August 2006

Celebrating Our 30th Celebrating Our 30th Anniversary!Anniversary!

Continued on pg. 2

30 Years of Good Paddling,Good Times, Good Deeds,& Good Friends.

The Bluegrass Wildwater Association:

The Bluegrass Wildwater Association has turned thirty yearsold this year. That is something that those who helped start itand those of us who have made it work over the years areproud of. According to our original by laws the object of theBWA was ”to encourage enjoyment, preservation, and explo-ration of American recreational waterways for man poweredcraft”.

BWA members through the years have done many things toaccomplish those goals. With our clinics, roll sessions, safetyclasses & seminars we made it possible for those in Kentuckyto become paddlers and enjoy it in a safe and responsible way.With our river clean-ups, support of such groups as AmericanRivers, West Virginia Rivers Coalition and AmericanWhitewater and participation in the Kentucky Rivers andStreams Assessment, we have done much to preserved andenhance our rivers and streams. Our members have exploredand paddled rivers in North and South America, Asia, Africaand Europe. They put together an expedition to explore theJatate river in Mexico. They were part of an expedition toChina 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 Festivaland the Russell Fork River Festival (both fund raisers for rivercauses), our nationally recognized newsletter, innovations likea CD loaded with information for our students attending ourSpring Clinic and many other things. You realize that to accom-plish all this we have had some very talented and involvedmembers. But is has been more than that. True, we have hadthose who have been good leaders, good paddlers, goodartists and so on, but what the BWA has been is an opportunity

My First BWA River TripIt Was The Tribe That Kept Me SaneBWA’s Most Colorful Character Of All TimeA River Runs Through It, No SH**This I Have LearnedClass…Class…Class…SHUT UP! And Thank You!Reflections….30th Reunion NewsAnd Much, Much, More!

Bowlines is the Newsletter of the Bluegrass WildwaterAssociation, POB 4231, Lexington Ky, 40544

Club Officers 2006-2007Join in on the Fun!

BWA website: www.surfbwa.orgJoin the BWA! BWA Membership $20/individual; $25/Family year entitlesyou to receive the newsletter,10% discounts at many local and out of stateoutfitter shops, use of club equipment, discount at pool rolling sessions, alisting in the BWA Handbook, a stream gauge guide, and web site with alistserve for member’s messages.Meetings are held at 7:30, the second Tuesday of each month atlocation announced on our website.

To submit newsletter articles and/or pictures email Kathy Rose:kmrose@email.uky.edu

President Philip Sisk 859-231-6565Vice-President Hanley Loller 859-806-9843Treasurer Pam Ward 859-312-5244Secretary Kelly Glasser 859-312-2031Safety Joey Calder 859-244-7478Program Dale Perry 859-489-5334Newsletter Editor Kathy Rose 859-797-472730th Issue Assistant to Editor Don Spangler 859-277-7314Cyber Communications Don Spangler 859-277-7314Conservation Dustin Anderson 859-333-4997Film Festival Coordinator Todd Garland 502-875-9234Russell Fork River FestivalCoordinator Steve Ruth Equipment Coordinator David Leachman 859-278-9403At-Large Member: Chris Schardi 813-495-1316Membership Coordinator Megan Memmer 859-227-7935Wildwater Cats Rep. Jessica Dussex 859-737-3131Past President Jason Bailey 859-278-0764

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Continued from pg. 1

Coming Soon!AA tale of a BWtale of a BWAA Expedition to explore an incredible jungle river Expedition to explore an incredible jungle river that leads into an adventure they never expected..... that leads into an adventure they never expected..... and will never forget.and will never forget.

for many members to achieve personal accomplishmentswhile doing things for adnd with the club. By being an officer ofthe club you are exposed to what is needed to plan, lead andorganize a group of volunteers. Those members are learningby doing too. BWAers did not know how to make a video, butthey learned how to and enter in the film festival, often to win.Some do not know how to teach someone how to paddle, butthey learned how to by helping someone who does at the clin-ic or roll sessions. Many of us have not tried to write aboutsomething since they left school days, but we work on a storyfor Bowlines till it says something to all of us.

The BWA has always been about paddling wildwater andshould always be so. But the road to the river has taken us tomany places that we never expected. Perhaps the mostimportant has been the friendships that we have formed in theclub. Yes, there is always disputes and there are some of usthat kinda forget we are in this with each other for a reason.Paddling whitewater is a group activity. What we have real-ized over the years of our clubs existence is that paddling alsodoes not exist in isolation. To see evidence of this just read thearticles that have been written for this special issue. Some ofwriters have not been able to paddle or be with us for manyyears. But their bonds with us are still strong. The stories andphotos in this special edition will leave many others untoldand unseen, but issue by issue there will be more added.That has made our club newsletter unique in the paddlingworld. In another 30 years think what stories and thoughtsfuture BWA members will have written.

Our good paddling, good times, good deeds and good friendshave come about because of our association and the need forus to do many things to do the one thing we all enjoy: pad-dling rivers!

To read a decade worth of Bowlines go to theBWA website to our issue archive:

http://www.surfbwa.org/html/bowlines_arcN.html

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In 1973 you could count all the Kentuckians who owned akayak on one hand, and there wasn’t an outfitting or sportinggoods store within 500 miles that sold them except for thewood-frame collapsible Folbot which was unsuitable for white-water. The first kayak I paddled was a glass boat borrowedfrom an Indiana friend who made it from a mold on loan from afellow in Chicago. The boat was clunky and weighed morethan a17-foot Grumman aluminum canoe. The little epoxy globwouldn’t track and oddly enough it was hard to turn too (atleast in the direction that you wanted). My second time pad-dling this contrary beast I got jammed between two rocks. Iooched the boat around one rock and it took off downstreamgoing straighter than I’d ever seen it go. Problem was, I wasstill caught on the other rock with my spray skirt neatlyattached to the just separated coaming of the cockpit.

There was an active paddling community in Louisville in theearly Seventies centered around the Viking Canoe Club. InLexington, Dick and Sue Tileston and Jim Nance started theBluegrass Pack and Paddle Club, with a predominately flatwa-ter paddling bunch, that also had their hands in United StatesCanoe Association marathon canoe racing (you haven’t liveduntil you’ve cranked an aluminum canoe eight miles in circlesaround the lake at Jacobson Park). It was a small number ofthe Bluegrass Pack and Paddle Club, however, that startedLexington paddlers down the road to whitewater paddling andwho introduced the first kayaks and decked canoes to thearea.

At the same time, Jim Stacy, a tall, bearded galoot who lookedlike he might have just crossed the Cumberland Gap withDaniel Boone, began teaching wilderness skills including back-packing, survival, and canoeing to UK students. After a whileStacy opened his weekend courses to everyone and crossedpaths with myself and others in the Pack and Paddle Club.Stacy was a dynamite flatwater canoe instructor, but nobody inthe area really had a handle on teaching whitewater skills, pri-marily because the body of knowledge and the teachingmethodology were still evolving. I remember vividly, however,his commitment to safety. Each aluminum canoe was stuffed tothe gills with truck inner tubes, and extra paddles were lashedwith string (easy to break) across the thwarts. His students

were decked out in horse-collar PFDs and bright yellow con-struction helmets, prompting a fisherman on the lowerRockcastle to ask if we expected someone to drop a beam onour heads. What we did was more akin to shootin’ the rapidsthan to running a river, but with a little divine intervention and alot of duct tape we somehow managed to arrive at the take-out(usually after dark).

Unwilling facilitators of the whitewater learning curve were Jimand Chris Stamm who operated a canoe livery on theRockcastle River near Somerset. The Stamms went to inordi-nate lengths to persuade customers to carry around the ClassIII Rockcastle Narrows, but hey, carrying a canoe then wasn’tany more fun than it is now, And though the Stamms’ renterswere able to dispose of much of their cargo before approach-ing the Narrows, the remaining beer made portaging thecanoes a real ordeal. It was not unusual, in fact, for his cus-tomers to haul their cratered Grummans up on the bank andsimply walk out. There were many times during those yearswhen Jim Stamm sat at the Bee Rock take-out well into thenight hoping his missing boats would appear.

Meanwhile, back in Lexington, myself, the Tilestons, and BillConger, a UK electrical engineering professor, raised a modestamount of capital and chartered a corporation called, Sage –School of the Outdoors, built around Jim Stacey’s outdoorskills program. That very year the NOC opened andMadawaska became known to us. I and a couple of otherSage folks headed to Wesser to try fill the blanks in our white-water education while Stacy headed to Madawaska. The fol-lowing year Stacy bridled at doing his thing in the context of acorporation overseen by a board of directors, and resigned.Picking up the paddling program from Stacy, I and two others

took rescue courses at NOC and whitewater teaching coursesfrom the American Canoe Association and became ACAinstructor certified in whitewater canoe and kayak, Just in timetoo….the introduction of Tupperware kayaks and Royalexcanoes was about to blow the lid off the whitewater pot.

In the ensuing years, we at Sage taught a lot of folks to pad-dle. Some other folks learned on their own or went south to

PrehistoricTimes

In central Kentucky if you were learning how to paddle in theseventies, 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. Bobhas been a key supporter of the BWA for many years andindeed the NPFF was his idea and was funded in its formativeyears via Menasha Ridge, a publishing company he formedwith William Nealy. A big BWA hand to you Bob!

Bob Sehlinger

A SAGE class on the Cumberland below the Falls with Bobshowing how to run a rapid to some students.

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Back in the good old days when New Circle Road was actuallynew, before global warming, before the ACA started taking them-selves too seriously, the days before liability, unfortunately beforethe women-in-rubber, prior to river rescue, the days when kayakswere only made out of fiberglass, and just post the molding ofRoyalex into canoes, the birth of the BWA took place.Conception, so to speak, occurred when SAGE School of theOutdoors put on some canoe instruction clinics to create a busi-ness base for their retail store. Aqua I (a weekend of lake pad-dling) was followed by Aqua II (straight into a Prince-to-Thurmondhigh water run). Those of us that survived were promoted toinstructors to teach the next class. And those that brought every-one back alive went on to become the first ACA canoe instructors.

Interest abounded and the first club organizational meeting tookplace. Those of us who survived the meeting went on to becomecharter members. Those who didn’t survive went on to becomeUS Olympic flatwater coaches. The latter is in reference to poorJay Kearney, UK professor. When speaking up to include flatwa-ter as part of the proposed club agenda, he was immediatelyslammed by the one and only Charles-the-Red Andrea, who Iwould give the most credit to for the initial club response,“Flatwater…hell no, this is gonna be a whitewater club”. Charles’spirit was as flamboyant as his red hair and he was as famouswith the IRS as Willie Nelson. Once the direction was settled itonly took I don’t know how long to come up with a name. A namewas secondary as are most thing in paddlers lives…you see theonly thing the first members cared about was paddling. There

were no distractions like bikes or sailboats or anything to get inthe way of the focus of whitewater…well sex and behavior modi-fication influences perhaps…but that was all. Women who pad-dled were scarce. Women who didn’t paddle were put to gooduse running shuttle (this was by no means a demeaning occupa-tion as everyone appreciated shuttle drivers as much as chowingdown after a run). The early gang was a quiet sort of rowdy lot.We all hated disco. There were people with jobs who paddledthe nice things and those of us without or being students whopaddled the aluminum things. We thought decadence wasbeing able to afford two wetsuits so you wouldn’t have to put ona frozen one Sunday morning.

I volunteered to be the first newsletter editor, but my real job wasto call the gauges on Thursday and everyone who wanted topaddle and help decide where we all wanted to be headingFriday pm or Saturday am. I called Beuren’s house oftenenough that his young daughter would recognize my voice andsay; “Daddy can’t come out and play this weekend”. Of coursewe relied on some folks with a little experience for their guidinginput. Bob Sehlinger and Doug (Harry D.) McKenzie could talkus into going anywhere, if it were over our head, well the betterthe entertainment factor. Bob went on to fan the flames of fame-dom with William Nealy. Doug moved on to his mining engineercareer which stationed him in Summersville WV. Cumberlandbelow the Falls and the Big South Fork were the mainstays.Boone Creek during the thaw breakup with ice the size of volk-swagons both downstream and upstream kept us looking overour shoulders. The Big South Fork for the first time in Februaryalso kept our interest and I will forever hold it in reverence as theplace of my first combat roll (kayak).

Of course the mainstay of mainstay was Elkhorn Creek whichjust also happenedto the fishing hole ofmy earlier years.The Elkhorn wasclose and usuallyrunning and withsome ingenuity andimagination, couldkeep us entertainedto dusk. If we evergot bored we justpaddled standing up.Just one story and atangent to keep this entertaining rather than historical….Oneperk of being a SAGE canoe instructor was being able to borrowthe new Bluehole OCA Royalex canoes. Winter on the Elkhornis incredible in places, especially when the icicles form on the cliffwhere the old walk across bridge used to be. Now if you haveever knelt in the end of an OCA (which stands for open canoemodel A), I mean with the deckplate scraping your lower back,you can get the bow about 3 feet in the air. This is fun at S-Turnwhere, with a little practice, you can get your bow 5 feet in the aircoming in to the eddy and watch someone get wild eyed justprior to lifting your bow over their head and setting it across theirboat. But in the winter, with good sweep strokes and proper tim-

Back in the Good Old Days

NOC, and more than a few newcomers arrived with paddlingskills in hand. The paddling community was growing exponen-tially, but the old Bluegrass Pack and Paddle Club had foldedits tent. Clearly it was time to form a new paddling club. Mymemory is fuzzy about who had the vision and who were mostinstrumental in bringing that vision to fruition, but clearly BurenGarten (who first articulated the idea to me), Kent Kirchner andKatie Keene, Steve Morgan, Don Spangler, Mike Murphy, DaveMoccia, Sam & Karen Moore, Arnie LeMay, Sallie Stoltz,Charles Andre, Ed Puterbaugh, Doug McKenzie, Mickey Fulp,Barbara Stansbury, and the ever-present Tilestons were amongthem.

Dave Moccia, tall (well over 6’) and strong (used a 64” canoepaddle), was the canoer we all hoped to be. In fact Davewent on to win in the Nationals shortly after he moved to theNOC. That is why he was voted to be the first lifetime mem-ber of the BWA. We were proud of the national competitorfrom the BWA. Of course it was also always nice to know youhad a place to crash and eat at near the Nantahala. He even-tually also became the “bookkeeper” for the NOC for a num-ber years after his stint there as Head Canoe Instructor.

Dave Moccia

Dave Moccia paddlin’ on the Nanty

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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 dis-turbed. 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 embarrassmentamidst the chuckles. An easy enough lesson and the price wasonly two dents in the aluminum gunnel. But hey…it was a SAGEboat. Royalex was amazing stuff, it skidded over rocks and youcan 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 cli-mates and can pop holes in borrowed SAGE canoes whilstsleigh riding at night on farms. The Elkhorn has provided us withmany a *SEG.

The first year the club existed, we only missed paddling twoweekends in winter (everything was frozen). Not even the holi-days were off limits as Christmas to New Years found us on thelower canyons of the Rio Grande. I can thank the club for a lot ofthings, like my gpa losing a half point. Nothing like taking yourbook to study for a final exam paddling and coming out two lettergrades lower than you went in. That’s ok as it was the Big SouthFork. But at least I finished school with more direction than Istarted as I eventually became head canoe instructor at NOC(not our canoe) from ’84 to ’92 (the golden age of canoeing… nobragging just fact). Turning one’s passion into a means to makea living can be very idealistic and memoir material is abundant,but subsistence living only goes so far. Yea, I even made ACAinstructor trainer before the organization started taking them-selves too seriously.

BWA has been an inspiration to me and maybe me to them assomewhere along the way I was voted an honorary life member,which means more to me than any title the NOC or ACAbestowed. I don’t own any more kayaks but will always have acanoe. I am far removed from the river systems these days, butthe tides change twice a day and we usually have a breeze outhere on the NC barrier islands. And yes those distractions havea way of catching up as I have a beach cruiser and plan to builda sailboat. May you all be blessed with high water and sunshineand SEGs and may our sons and daughters and their sons anddaughters live to appreciate and nurture the sport we hold sodear.

Dave Moccia

*SEG = shit-eatin-grins

Happy Birthday BWA--many more!

We are one year old, can you believe that? Did you realize that theassociation has just entered into its second year since being orga-nized? It might have slipped by unnoticed, but some of us are senti-mental--besides birthdays mean birthday parties. Those of us whowere at the September meeting at the Louden House unceremonious-ly celebrated our first year with the regular business meeting andsome home-made vanila ice cream. Well, any excuse will do forhome-made ice cream.

Look back on last year for just a few minutes. Has the last year been aworthwhile experience for you and the club? Sure it has. Admitted, wehave a long way to go, but we have come along way since that organi-zational meeting at Sage last September. A few of us are actuallybeginning to learn to paddle whitewater.

So, what have we accomplished in the last year? We elected new offi-cers, with Kent Kirchner retaining the high-chairmanship. We evenmanaged to decide on a new schedule of dues. The incorporationpapers have been submitted, and we are allowed to add thedistinguished post-script "inc." after our club title. The club helped orga-nize and conduct the Kentucky Wildwater Championships, held atCumberland below the Falls despite low water (350 cfs) and theSecond Annual Jacobson Lake canoe races was a great success t h an k s to Sage, Bob Sehlinger, the BWA the Lexington Park Serviceand Katie Keene who did a lot of the footwork.

Our paddling talents are really beginning to grow, too. Russell Fork. isa long way from our first trip down the Nantahala ....a lot warmer too!Remember our first time down the Ocoee? How about Section III ofthe Chattooga and "Bull Sluice" at 3.4' , the Tellico at high water, theLittle River Gorge at flood stage, Raven Fork at over 4', CumberlandBelow the Falls at only 250 cfs. Is it really only four miles to the take-out? Wait, there are more. I bet Kent remembers his ender at the holeat the bottom of the narrows on the LIttle Tennessee. Snowbird Creekwas a nice change of pace as was the Upper Red when the waterwas up.

We got to paddle Clear Creek in the Emory-Obed thanks to Roy andJuanita Guinn Expeditions, Ltd. The New River and the Gauley haveoffered some of the East's best whitewater this fall to those who hadthe skills to paddle them. Were you there when we tore down the oldsuspension bridge that had become a hazard to paddlers on theElkhorn?

Our members have paddled the Rio Grande below Big Bend NationalPark on the Mexican border, the Petawaba and lower Madawaska inOntario, and most recently the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. Inshort, we did a lot of paddling last year.

If you missed out on a lot of these trips, think about it before you turndown an offer to qo paddling for the weekend. Even Kentucky's ownRockcastle can be a challenge at 1,100 cfs, right Beuren? There issomething to be gained from every paddling experience, and there willbe a lot more opportunities in our second year. The true beauty of aremote wilderness, the challenge of good whitewater, the satisfactionof making every roll (almost) that day, are feelings that can not be hadby staying home to watch the boob tube. The best feeling of all comeswhen you zip up your sleeping bag for the night, and know that youare close to some of the finest people to be found anywhere -- thereare five people in your two person tent because it is raining outside!!

from Bowlines Vol. 2, No. I November 1977

Links to related Bowline stories:

Mar/Apr99: Passing on the Tradition,Reflections from a newmember, A Look at the Paddling Clinic

May/June00 Recollections of a Proud Papa, pg. 10

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Hi BWA! Rivermom from ChicagoWhitewater Association here. Happy Birthday to you! Donasked me to reminisce about how BWA and CWA got to knoweach other. I agreed because it gives me a chance to saythanks for some pretty neat memories in years past and thechance to congratulate another paddling club on an importantanniversary. (CWA celebrated 30 years old also, a few yearsback).

We first met a BWAer at a local race in 1979. Charles Andrefrom Lexington was in the Chicago area working for the EPAduring the construction of one of our expressways. He showedup at the race on the Des Plaines River where a few of us wererunning safety in our kayaks below a dam. It didn’t take muchfor him to introduce himself as another paddler and one thingled to another and soon we had exchanged addresses andphone numbers and he had promised that his club, BWA wouldbe happy to show us some new rivers if we let them know whenwe could come to the area. The following year, a few of us trav-eled to the Big South Fork of the Cumberland, a river new to allof us, but very familiar to bluegrass paddlers. Charles, EdPuterbaugh and Jerry O’Connor met us at Leatherwood Ford.(I continue this with words excerpted from the trip report pub-lished in The Gradient)…” We found our campsite before darkafter driving down a mountain on a road which looked like it wasready to fall off the grade at any moment. When we firstglimpsed the river on the way down, we were impressed; thiswas a big river, not just a stream. The rain began shortly afterdinner and it was still raining in the morning. We had dreadthoughts of “could we still get out of this canyon after a rain?”We decided to abandon our campsite and wait on higherground. Chances were good, since there was no other way in,we’d meet them on their way in. Sure enough, we found eachother and headed for a local restaurant to chow down beforesetting up the long shuttle. We learned about the river we wereabout to run with the BWA, including the fact that the Big SouthFork had been nominated for inclusion in the National Wild andScenic Rivers Act, and the park service was already in theprocess of acquiring the land. The BWA paddlers were happyto have the protection and improvements this would bring, butfelt quite uneasy about having “their” river spoiled by the influx of

tourists. “ ( I will skip the nitty gritty about the ensuing run exceptto mention, that not only did I pull off my first ever river combatroll at Double Falls, but did two more after that!) “ As we paddledthrough Railroad rapids, we were told that this was the areaBWA used for their beginning clinics. This area had the onlyaccess upstream of Leatherwood Ford and can only bereached by a 4WD road, embellished with an unprintable name.As the bridge came into sight, we sadly realized that the hilite ofour trip was over and we had to head home….once we waitedfor the hour and a half shuttle. While refueling at dinner, wepromised to add The Bluegrass Wildwater Association to our exchange list, and,when they print their in newsletter, they will also send CWA acopy. In return, we promised to be rather vague about theirriver, so they don’t become over run with tourists as the riverswe are used to here in the North.

After that trip, CWA paddlers ran into BWA paddlers occasionallyduring their river trips. I remember paddling with a Kentuckygroup on the Ocoee one day, while Barry Grimes was busyrecording the day for posterity on video. Dan Dixon and I werein the C-2 running Table Saw and Barry caught the resulting flipand swim on tape. I wet exited and Dan rolled the boat up,sputtering how hard it was toroll that time. Some monthslater, Barry sent me a copy ofthe video he had made, and Ifound out why Dan had hadsuch trouble. I was hangingon to the hull of the boat whileswimming through the waveswhile he was trying to roll it up!

John Karch recalls the following about paddling with BWA: Thisis the first time I remember meeting some BWA paddlers on theriver. They were below an innocent little one foot drop and werehollering that I should run it sideways. I did, but didn't leanenough and it flipped me immediately upstream. There musthave been a shallow rock because I immediately felt a hammerblow to the left side of my helmet (and it felt exactly like some-one 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 astick". They had set up a campfire - no gas stoves or anything,they believed in roughing it. They had then sharpened the endof some sticks to a point and stuck on what looked like a 1 lb rib-eye steak on each one. They then proceeded to roast thethings over the fire like marshmallows. Didn't see any vegeta-bles, so I don't know what they had to eat with it.

One of the more memorable trips was when we went down tothe Obed-Emory system during TVA week (around Easter). Wehad agreed to hook up with some of the BWA boys to do CrabOrchard creek. They knew the put-in so we were following themdown a dirt road when we see a whole caravan of cars led by ahearse coming at us from the opposite direction. The hearsestopped as we drew up along side and told us the river was in

Known as River Mom, Marge Cline started paddling in the mid-seventies, and has been part of the paddling scene for the last 3decades. She got to know the BWA in the seventies and hasbeen an active supporter of the NPFF since the first one. Shehas attended most of the festivals, worked as a judge and wasalso a competitor in the event. Marge has been an importantand active member of the both the Chicago WhitewaterAssociation and American Whitewater. She has started andtrained hundreds of paddlers in the Chicago area. In 2000,Marge Cline was honored by Paddler Magazine for being one of100 "Paddlers of the 20th Century” who've made a difference.

Thanks For theMemories

Marge Cline

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flood stage and too high - they weren't going to do it. The BWAboys immediately said, "Sh__ - we're gonna do it!" So we fol-lowed them to the put-in with our CWA contingent and put inbelow the bridge. We couldn't put in above the bridge becauseyou couldn't float under it - the water was too high.

The river was truly in flood stage. We came across one islandthat was plastered with a rainbow of open boats. The openboater group that was ahead of us had all wiped out in the highwaves and the water pushed them up on the island. We alsoended up in trouble as we had started weaving amongst thetrees to avoid some vicious whitewater that we weren't familiarwith. Unfortunately, one of our boaters wrapped his kayakaround a tree. He got out just before it folded, but sprained bothknees doing it. Next day Bud came back to get it and found itabout 4 feet above the water line.

Our group had gotten separated into smaller groups as itbecame evident that this was a "every man for himself" paddle.I followed Charles Andre from the BWA since he was a C-1 pad-dler and I figured he had a higher vantage point than I did.Worked pretty well as we both made it to the takeout. We thenstarted counting people to see if everybody made it. We foundout at the take-out bridge that another CWA paddler had lost hisboat. He took a swim and his boat got stuffed under an under-cut rock. I think he also managed to come back later in theweek to retrieve it.

It was one of my more memorable high water runs and I wasglad the BWA paddlers were with us.

When I asked Tam Fletcher about BWA memories, she said thefollowing: “The best thing I remember about BWA is the FilmFestivals. I went to the first one with Jennifer Jones (nowJennifer Hearn) and on the way there we had a flat tire. When Ifound out she was another woman who knew how to change atire herself, I was delighted! And how it rained in the tobaccobarn, and how I got to meet William Nealy and actually talk tohim and the best thing was Richard Smithers singing “She WoreBlack Rubber!”

Ah yes, the Women in Rubber!!!!!!!!! How they inspired me andother CWA women. We actually modeled a CWA group afterthem and called ourselves LIPs, i.e., the Ladies in Polypro. Ibecame the coach of LIPs and promised to teach them every-thing I knew. LIPs actually put in an appearance at one of theFF and led the assemblage in a bunny hop into the pool. A CWAcontingent usually attended the annual Paddling Film Festival.CWA paddlers/videographers/photographers have entered thecompetition a few times. I actually won an award back in thedays before video – I shot super 8 movies in those days – and itstill hangs on my wall today. CWA members were always includ-ed in the judging assignments during the competition and after-wards, attended the party. My interest in the film festival wastwo-fold: I loved the films and videos, but loved the party anddancing afterwards even more. It was generally the only eventduring the year where I knew there would be no lack of partnerswilling to rock and roll. Mike Weeks was unstoppable and Don

Spangler and Barry Grimes were close to his energy level.

Ah, yes, I remember y’all well. Thanks for the memories… andhave a happy celebration and many more years in the fast lane.

Love to all, Rivermom aka Marge Cline

Elkhorn at High Water

On January 23rd, three of the "out to lunchbunch" (Jerry 0', Renné le Don and I) along with9 Louisville boaters enjoyed the mighty Elkhornat about 7'. This is an approximation since thegauge on the bridge was under water. A few days later when thecreek was lower, we extrapolated this level by using the bottom of thebridge deck as a reference point.

Ordinarily, writing a trip report about the Elkhorn is rather mundanestuff, and I'm only doing it now because for some of the newer andmaybe less experienced paddlers in our group, there are a few haz-ards unique to this water level. First, the portage around the dam isvery dangerous, bordering on absurd. At this level, one should get tothe left bank well upstream of the dam and climb through the trees tocheck out and plan the portage. The reason for this is obvious; youdon't know what could be down there. When we were there there wasat least one foot of water running over the concrete abutment that weusually drag/carry our boats over. The wide flat ledge and stair-stepped type cliff descent to the water below dam was a shallowrapid, which was safe to walk through. Putting in is a real "trip". Notonly do you have a horrendous churning mess of brown and whitewater to look at and listen to, but the eddy we normally use is a termi-nal whirlpool. If this eddy doesn't get you, it will accelerate you pell-mell into the Drowning Machine at the base of the dam. Put in wellbelow this mess and you will have a nicer day.

Another characteristic that will catch your attention is that the creek ispushy at this level. In its power and speed, it is approaching big watercharacter. This means that more advanced planning of your coursethrough a rapid is a necessary and often times more muscle may berequired to get where you want to go. Also eddies are fewer, moreviolent, and sometimes in different places from where they are atlower levels. At this level most eddies are in trees. For an inexperi-enced boater this can mean a nasty broach. (Ed. note, It's also purehell on swimmers).

Well,I’ve given all the warnings but there are some nice things aboutthis level. If you don’t mind the portage you can easily run theElkhorn twice in a afternoon. To me, the best thing about this level isthat the waves are, in some places, four to five feet tall and you get achance to experience the "feel" of what big water is like.I want tostress that the Elkhorn at seven feet is not big water in the sense thatthe New is at two feet and up, but only that it gives a novice boater afeel 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 stayclose together.

Rudolf the Red (Chas) from Bowlines March 1982

“Chas”

In the eighties the mostexcitement at River Festivalswas centered not on seeingthe latest boat but on seeingthe “Women in Rubber”. Whathad started as an effort toprovide some interestingentertainment for Saturdaynight at the BWA Clinic,turned into a phenomenonthat included performances atRiver Festivals by the Womenin Rubber, clothing with WIRart, stationary with WIR on it,articles in magazines like theAW Journal and even NPFFentries with stories about theWomen in Rubber. WilliamNealy even took note of theWomen in Rubber in one ofhis books. If you went boatingand other paddlers found outyou were with the BWA youwere often asked if theWomen in Rubber werearound. The BWA was gracedwith a lot of beautiful and tal-ented women who liked topaddle and have fun. TheWomen in Rubber certainlydid a lot to make the paddlingworld aware of the BWA.

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It’s been quite a few years since the Women in Rubberhave been seen (except in your dreams!) and so Bowlinesdecided it was time to check up on some of the womenwho wore neoprene like a second skin, who could slidedown the tongue of the wildest rapid with a serene smileand a sly wink to the crowd of fans and who could slip intoa micro-eddy with a twitch of a hip.

Where were those women who had paddled whitewaterlike they were on a dance floor and danced like they wereon drugs? They brought us songs like “Boat It” and “EveryStroke You Take” they entertained crowds of wanna-bes atthe shore and drunken horny guys on the stage. Howcould they give that up?

Our chief, er, main correspondent, Chief, was MIA, soBowlines had to send the stand-in reporter (that would beme) to investigate. I decided to go first to the training campin West Virginia that had been their favorite hang out - if Icould find it. I took Chief’s notes (“Turn left at the river”)and started looking. Soon I found a large recycling bin con-

taining bits of neoprene and empty cans ofrubber cement. I decided I had to be close.

I recognized the place from the classic“Raving Rubber” documentary - the hot tubwas still bubbling and there was a bent andaged butler that hobbled up to me as Iapproached. I had to keep repeating myname and purpose for visiting until I wasyelling into his ear, but by that time one ofthe women had come out of the house andnodded. She patted the old guy’s arm andsent him back to mind the dials and tem-perature gauges.

I was struck by how little the years hadchanged this woman; she still had thegrace and serenity that had been hertrademark both on and off the water. Shetook me inside to the great room.

“You’re Patti, aren’t you? So do you livehere? Are all the Women in Rubber stillhere? Still boating?” I asked.

“Well, I confess I mostly solo canoe nowwhen I want to paddle,” Patti replied, “andthe lower Gauley is about as much whitewater as I want to deal with. I’ve beenteaching school and during the summers I

come up here to train and make rugs.”

It was then I noticed that the floors were covered in darkbraided rugs, ovals and squares and rectangles. I went toadmire one, and it was, well, squishy.

“Are these neoprene?” I asked.

“Well, I call them “Women on Rubber” rugs, but yes,they are. There was something so comforting about our oldwetsuits that even when I got a drysuit for winter boating Ijust had to have them around. I can recycle old wetsuitsand believe me, they hold up really well to all kinds ofabuse.”

I had an idea was what kind of abuse could be per-formed on those rugs, but I knew that wasn’t why I was onthe job. I needed to keep digging into the present where-abouts of the other women.

“Do the others still come here to train? Are they herenow?”

Patti paused a minute before answering. “You know wedo like our privacy. Few people can find us here and that’son purpose. ‘Outside’ we have our own kind of a ‘witnessprotection program’ so we aren’t usually cornered orharassed by fans or old jealous lovers.”

Where Are They Now?

9

“But the public wants to know - they need to know - wheretheir beloved WIR are now. I don’t have to divulge yourwhereabouts, but they’d like to know what you all aredoing,” I pleaded.

“Well, I guess I can tell you a bit about some of us. Afew of the women ran out of rivers to run or men to sleepwith here in the east and went west for new challenges.Sally had always been intrigued with the issues of non-ver-bal communication - she had a great personal body lan-guage, you know.”

I nodded, my mouth going dry. I remembered the mes-sage I got while she was dancing onstage.

“Anyway, she parlayed that into a degree in communica-tion and she is practicing speech therapy of some kindwhen she’s not paddling.”

“Paula went to the southwest and got into first descentson roller blades. She usually wears a inner tube - I think itis that same rubber-nostalgia I have surfacing, but sheinsists that it’s in case she gets into deep water. Frankly,she is known for getting in over her head, but she comesup smiling every time!”

“Bonnie got into drugs in a big way; she was a real highvolume dealer.”

Whoa, I thought, she seemed so... wholesome...

“Yes,” Patti continued, “she’s one of the best pharma-ceutical agents in the business. I think she does her boat-ing each weekend on a yacht now with a much youngerhouse boy than Frank, here.” Patti smiled gently and ges-tured to her ‘body guard.’

I could look out and see him still leaning against thedeck railing, jerking awake every few minutes to peeraround the grounds, on the look out for intruders. I had tothink a boulder the size of a garbage truck could roll downthe hill into the back of the house and he would’t know ituntil the walls collapsed around him, but I knew these

women have a soft spot for loyalty and he would alwayshave 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 andshe 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 forthe challenge.”

“And for the fans?” I asked, probing like a good inves-tigative reporter should.

“Well, that was true when we were performing, but notnow. Actually we did what we did - both boating and per-forming - for the women who needed to know they couldpaddle the hard stuff, too, if they wanted, and the men, whotook themselves WAY too seriously.”

Another female voice joined the mix, “Yes, we laughed atthem and ourselves.”

“Pam?” I asked incredulously “Is that you?” She wasdressed in a business suit. “You don’t paddle in that, doyou?”

Woman in Rubber Jan Atlee practicing her Tyrolean rescue skills.

“Are you kidding?”she scoffed, “It hasto be dry cleaned.No, I’m a lawyerwhen I’m working - orrather I should say‘an advocate.’ And ofcourse I still loveboating, but I meetenough sharks in myjob. I paddle torelax.”

“Who else is still around? Do you get together?” It waseasy to get distracted by the subtle scent of glue andpheromones, but I had to stay focused for the sake of myassignment.

Pam responded as Patti sank back into the couch andwent back to cutting black rubber with a red backing into 1”strips.

“A few of us are staying here right now. Lynda is upstairsworking on her nextbest seller, “The KickingHorse Code.” She wasup in BC for the pastfew months doingresearch and now she’ssettled down with herlaptop. We can’t disturbher - she just comes outfor cappuccino, wholewheat toast and greentea. She looksexxxhaused but happy,if you know what Imean.” Pam winkedand then I got it. I won-dered if Lynda might need additional ‘inspiration,’ but decid-ed that these women, if not Frank, wouldn’t let me nearher.

“Jan added a sculpture studio down the hill from hereand she’s working on life sized statues of the consummatepaddler - remember her posters of the male and femalepaddler? This is like that only better. I swear I see a littleglimpse of several of our old guard in her work - a hint ofDad, a ‘dandy don’ expression, that ‘come hither’ look thatCarole used to perfection coupled with the capable C6stance...”

Pam smiled like she could see Cynthia in front of herright then, tough and strong. “Yes,” she nodded, “I can feelall of us within that hunk of plaster, slowly emerging.”

Patti spoke up then “And when she’s not working with

clay and dirt, she’srunning the Elkhornto pick up trash.”

“Yes,” Pamagreed, “We all tryto do our part.Lythia has workedon water qualityissues for years.”

“Anyway, back toyour other ques-tion.”

I couldn’t remember what it was...

”We try to meet once a year at least - we pretend it’s forthe boating, but really we mostly shoot the bull (BullSluice? I thought), sing the old songs, toast Frank (!) andtrain the young women, our daughters, our interns in thefine points of being a true WIR.”

“You mean there are new Women in Rubber out on therivers? Where arethey? Who are they?Can I meet them?” Ibabbled in my excite-ment.

“Honey,” Pampurred, “You just haveto go out there andLOOK for them.They’re out there. Theyare the strong ones,the funny ones, thecreative ones, the bestones. They are all overthe place!”

-- Respectfully submitted by

‘A Man in a Rubber (raft)’

Bob Sehlinger getting socially connected with Women in Rubber Linda and Carole.

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11

I can remember the roll sessions of 1979, when I firstcrammed my large frame into a small kayak (by 1979 stan-dards). Uncomfortable fiberglass edges poking my legsand smelly uncured polyester resin from my first seamingjob pulling the hair and skin off my calves. VolunteerBWA’ers helped me get my roll over 7 consecutive roll ses-sions (a slow learner for sure). Then we went for a tripdown class II-III rivers where I learned with other newbiesthat getting lost on shuttles, swim-ming, campfires, and story-tellingwas part of the sport and every tripwas a new river conquest. It felt life-threatening and I never felt morealive. In reality, it rarely was life-threatening (except for my pin underCamelback rock on the Clear Fork,but that’s another story).

We’ve changed in 30 years. Thepeople I mean. The young ones gotolder and new young ones join usevery year (3 cheers for the BWA Clinic). The older onesare a very varied group. Some of their boats are gatheringdust. Some of their boats are running Class VI. But all ofus remember when….

We remember “when” because it was the exciting part ofour lives. Whether we succeeded at Class II or went toClass VI, paddling was the adventurous side of our per-sonalities. We ran the Pillow or The Slot or Railroad and itmade us feel competent to get to the bottom. In a worldthat didn’t always affirm our competency, a successfullyrun river could always do that. We pushed ourselves and itfelt good and right.

And many BWA’ers gave back to the sport: countless riverclean-ups, Film Fests, clinics, races, ad infinitum. It was agood and worthy thing in which to spend our leisure time.

So where are we now, 30 years later? Same place, justbetter, I think. It’s a good place. Bringing in and nurturingyoung folks; developing our skills; being challenged byrivers new to us; enjoying the rivers that are like oldfriends; some not paddling much anymore but continuingthe friendships that helped make us who we are; newbies

Bravado..... and Age

paddling 80 days a year; giving back to the sport throughthe NPFF, the Clinic, and more.

It’s been a privilege to be here. Though a lifetime isn’t longenough to paddle all the rivers and play and work along-side all the people I wanted to meet.

We all need to cherish each moment of friendship and riverrunning, from morning shuttle to evening campfire. For thebravado and camaraderie of each river run needs anindelible place in our memories to be with us in 30 moreyears…

Why I SwamIn my 2 1/2 years of paddling with the BWA I have heard some verycreative excuses for not rolling up after a flip. What is most interestingis the fact that the advanced paddlers seem to be the most creative,perhaps out of necessity. The following is an ongoing list of thoseexcuses which I encourage others to add to with their own experi-ences:

1. I had to sneeze.

2. My paddle got caught in the weeds (especially good after 5' dropsthat 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.

6. Something bit my leg inside my boat.

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.

11. The wind was too strong.

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' break-fast.

15. 1 thought it would be more exciting this way.

16. My spray skirt had twisted and was pulling the hair on my chest(especially good for female paddlers).

17. 1 couldn't decide whether to roll on my good side, my off side, orthrow 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 theirexcuse.”Rich Lewis, Bowlines

Rich Lewis

Rich Lewis came to the BWA looking for fun and excitement.His early paddling gave him that, but he also found somegood friends including one who eventually became his “honey”and wife. She also became a “flashier” paddler then him. Butit has worked out and both are still together....unlike someother BWA marriages.

“TheHoney”, being flashier

The BWAAnd FoodFrom the very early days BWA members, when not talking aboutpaddling, would talk about favorite restaurants that would beclose to a given river. The lore of a restaurant with good food withgenerous portions at great price was passed down to newerpaddlers, much as the lore of a great river run was. This wasbefore chain restaurants were very common other than along theinterstate highways. Restaurants such as Joe & Ruth’s inSomerset, Mildred’s in Wartburg, Ali Baba’s in Knoxville, TheRusty Fork in Elkhorn City , Brunnetti’s in Hurricane, WV, or theTellico Riverside in Tellico Plains provided us with good “roadfood” and many a good story.

Joe & Ruth’s, positioned along HW 27,was famous in the earlydays for it’s family style all you could eat for about 4 dollars.They would keeping bringing the fried chicken, roast beef, hamand catfish along with all the veggies till even big eaters like DaveMoccia and Jim Ramsey had to holler “nuff”.

Mildred’s was central to all paddling in the Emory-Obed water-shed. A breakfast of 2 eggs, hash browns and toast could be hadfor under a dollar. Add a biscuit and gravy it would still be undera buck and a half. In later years (after she moved to the center oftown) just a couple of minutes away, she added the Wartburger.Good burger questionable name. I believe it is still served at therestaurant now called the Cumberland House. But some of theappeal was not just the food but folks like Mildred. We got toknow them and they us. Mildred, always good of heart wouldcare about you. One time when Beuren and Patty Garten weredoing some 20º winter camping at Frozen Head she pleadedwith them to come stay at her house. When they refused, shegave them a big thermos of hot chocolate to take with them andtold them her back door would be unlocked if it got too cold dur-ing the night.

The Tellico Riverside Restaurant in Tellico Plains was not onlypopular with paddlers for it’s roast beef sandwich, but in the earlydays we would call them and they would run across the road tosee how much water there was in the Tellico.

What might amaze you is some of these “hole in the wall” typeeating establishment could get national recognition. One exampleis Lou’s in Sunbright, Tennessee. Among other things thingsLou’s is known for good burgers, some which have been eatenby the BWA. Alton Brown from the Food Channel “Good Eats”just did a story on Lou’s on his new program “Feasting onAsphalt”. I am not sure how he found Sunbright let along Lou’s,but he did.

Yes, sometimes the food could be disappointing, but it was all

part of the boating adven-ture. It was like carryingyour boat a long way tothe put-in or having a longflatwater paddle out. If itwas a good run, it wasworth it! The most leg-endary eatery was theone that was found duringthe famous “mystery”weekend: “GladysBreeden's”. Never wouldyou expect to find a placeto eat that was like your Grandma’s kitchen during a family gath-ering. You helped yourself from tables, counters, and stoves cov-ered with bowls, pans, and skillets filled with country cooking. It’slocation was a tightly coveted secret among a select group ofBWA eaters.

When we started providing food at the Spring Clinic, it did nottake long for our creativity and spirit of competition to come forth.We soon had Dad’s Dinner Theater, Sam’s Roast Pig and othermemorable meals served up. For a while we had an eating com-petition at the clinic. This was long before they became the fadyou see on tv nowadays. Contestants would get special t-shirtswith “Eat Off” art work. The best remembered contest was at the1984 clinic eat off. It came close to being a disaster because we

had the contest before the studentsand instructors ate and we had notappreciated how much food the con-testant could eat.

“Officially it was a tie between GerryHey and Rick Weeks,6 lbs of food in30 minutes followed by OT... therewas compelling evidence , but neverconfirmed that Dad, who managedRico, added weights to the bottom ofRico's tray at the onset, removingthem later AND that Rico vomitedduring the dessert tripleovertime....Frank Loudermilk,Commissioner of Eating

(You might want to ask Barry Grimeswhat his Winnebago was like after an early morning visit fromGerry Hey.)

Mike Molnar would like to run the Elkhorn with a grill some somehot dogs in his canoe. He would find a good spot on an islandabout halfway down and stop for his hot dog feast. Margavagecan pull out a grill and some brats from his van in the blink of aneye. Members like Mike and Dave are among a number of BWAmembers who still carry on the BWA tradition with Boating andFood.

Don Spangler

Other related story links you may want to read:

Sept/Oct01 Class VI... Pass the Gravy!

Nov/Dec04 A Different Type of Hamburger Stand

L to R: Dave Weiland, Mike Weeks, “Chief Kulka”,Gladys Breeden, Don Spangler, Wayne Catron,Chas Andre, DavieThomas, John Davis.

“Dandy Don” is the BWA’s longest active member. Since 1976he has served in every office and is still active in club projects.He has canoed rivers throughout the US, Canada, and Mexico.

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13

These people are crazy, “middle-age crazies” someone used tosay... But I didn’t find out until it was too late. The statement didnot appear to be subject to debate. What other kind of personshows up at work on a rainy day with a big smile on their face,(not counting those who own stock in auto-body shops)?

Maybe I was crazy too. Amply armed with Bob Sehlinger’s first“Canoeing and Kayaking Guide to the Streams of Kentucky”,freshly published in my home state, I prepared for my assault onthe mighty Elkhorn. Even before moving to Lexington I hadbeen attempting to make a run on the Rockcastle. It was onlyyears later that I recognized the wisdom of the outfitter whorefused to let us take his canoes on what surely would havebeen a fateful trip that snowy November day. But I digress…That’s what happens to old farts after their brain cells have beenmore than adequately fortified with Wild Turkey for a number ofyears…

So, one drizzly gray March day, two graduate students from UKshowed up at the put-in for the Class II Whitewater Section ofElkhorn Creek. Having no native knowledge of the area, we leftmy VW Squareback parked in what looked like a safe place, onriver right near a church that later seemed like way too manymiles downstream of the conventional take-out. My friend’sMustang brought us uneventfully back to a reunion with my 15’Sea Nymph waiting for us at the Forks, the cold aluminum wetwith anticipation in the cool moist springtime Kentucky air. Arey’all with me so far? Any questions??

Well, y’all know what happens next. Make sure the keys don’tget locked in the car and hit the water! Yahoo!! Rocks, holes,waves, turns, and we didn’t look back or slow down until we gotto Old Grand-Dad’s pool. Dam, that was fun- hope it keeps up!The sporadic drizzle had already inured us to the cold splashescoming in, and we were feeling pretty good for a couple of guyswho had never been in the same boat before. It was like thatpoint in the Jimmy Buffet song right before he says, “and that’swhen I first saw The Bear”. We hit the haystacks at full speedand they came right in and made themselves at home. Thenthey brought in a bunch of their friends and had a party- broughtus right down to their level in short order. What fragments of ourclothing that weren’t wet before were wet now. The water drip-ping from us harmonized with what was dripping on us, and wepaddled, and paddled, and paddled downstream. The onlything I remember now is getting colder and colder. (You mightthink I’d at least remember that wave-hole rapid where Chief dis-located his shoulder and I wrapped my M.E. around the tree.Where was Old Grand-Dad when you really needed him?!

Well, clearly, we survived our hypothermic experience. I don’tknow if my friend ever paddled again, but I was at the next BWAmeeting after finding a phone number for Katie Keene, the con-

tact person for the club, duly noted in Appendix I. My recollec-tion of that first meeting, at Ed Puterbaugh’s house, is a little bet-ter than that of the last long miles on the Elkhorn. Three thingsstand out from that fateful evening… the bow, or maybe it wasthe stern, of a canoe standing on it’s severed mid-section in acorner of the living room; a home video of kayaks somewhere inTennessee performing a peculiar maneuver called an “ender”,and Sam Moore announcing a practice session for throwingropes and paddling kayaks at his place the following week.

I had never been in a kayak before, so there I was and the restis history, but not all of it has been recorded. There may besome who would prefer that it remain unrecorded. Some thingsare just better when they are told around the campfire, afterthrowing the cap away. Like being left on the side of highway27 after sitting in the back of a station wagon drinking beer forthe past two hours, or waking up with a caravan of jeeps run-ning right by the tent on a rainy morning at the Big South Fork(was that really a clinic?), or witnessing the taming of a noisylate-night high-octane bonfire licking the bottom of the old bridgeat the Nemo Hilton, or trying to stay awake after leavingMildred’s on the way back to Lexington, (adrenaline charging byrogue truck drivers optional!), or witnessing the birth of theWomen in Rubber, or using a z-drag to extricate a “4-wheel-drive” Isuzu from the tangled brush on a shortcut shuttle… Butagain I digress… I like to digress. It’s such a pleasant diversionfrom my obligation at work to be obsessively convergent. Mytenure at UK did not last near as long as my association with theBWA, and I don’t regret it for a nanosecond!

So what doesany of this BWAstuff have to dowith fundamen-talism1? Mypoint exactly!

During a recentdiscussion of thedogmaticapproach adopt-ed by some trip leaders, my response was that they were obvi-ously not affiliated with the BWA school of thought. They wouldnot have survived the final exam! I still remember the couplethat gave up and went home after the group had been travelingfor over an hour and changed its collective mind at least threetimes before making a final decision of which reach to run. Thatmight have even been the day we ran Potters Falls… Whenthe Emory-Obed system is up there are no wrong answers! I’mproud, (notwithstanding my exceptional humility) to be an alum-nus of the one and only Bluegrass Wildwater Association!

jerry o’class of ‘79

1. Fundamentalism, as opposed to fundamentals, such as eddyturns, peel-outs, and ferries

Thirty Years of BWAFun-damentalism

Jerry O”Connor

Jan AtleeThe Soul of Artfor the BWAJan was the club artist for the BWA. Yes someothers, including William Nealy, did some art for the club,but no one did more art and captured the spirit of the BWAover the years like Jan. She did art for the NPFF, theWomen in Rubber, designed the basic logos we still usetoday for the BWA and Bowlines, not to mention cartoons,T-shirt designs and many other pieces of art. She is alsoone of the many members that came to us from theMedical Center at UK. She was a medical illustrationist forUK before she was promoted to running the department.

Jan paddled mostly canoe and C-1 during her active periodwith the BWA. She left Kentucky for a brief period but nowis pursuing art in her studio near Georgetown on the NorthFork of the Elkhorn. She still loves to paddle when timepermits. Thanks Jan for all you have done!

Kent KirchnerFirst President of the BWA

Kent was one of thefirst if not the firstmember to paddle theColorado thru theGrand Canyon. His8mm movies of this tripwere often our programat meetings, Kent pro-viding the rapid by rapidmonologue with the restof us in awe at the sizeand length of the rapids.

Kent had a VW bus thatwe often rode in on pad-

dling trips. A VW bus, loaded with paddlers and boats,going over Jellico Mt. in the days before the interstate wasfinished goes very slow. We would not reach the NOC till1:30 or 2:00 in the morning.

A great many of our early members worked at the UKMedical Center, and Kent was doing his internship there.Kent is now Chief of Staff, VA Medical Center, Jackson,Miss.

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Some snips of BWA history....

The Famous Hot Tub Clinic

When the someone in the BWA decided they wanted to dosomething they found a way to do it. Ed Puterbaugh hadaccess to a hot tub one year and found a trailer to bring itto the clinic. The idea was that it would be nice to sit in ahot 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,not that those in the tub were in any condition to feel. It didprovide for some wild entertainment that night though!

The earliest memory I have of a BWA river trip was back inMarch, 1981 and we were headed to the free flowing watershedof the Emory-Obed rivers. Stories of menacing rapids filled myfilled my brain after listening to crusty, veteran boaters I had metonly recently while taking roll sessions in a steamy, enclosedpool at a YWCA. I did not really know what this new sport ofkayaking was all about, I just knew that I missed the wide openocean and brisk winds of sailing which I had enjoyed while incollege on the coast and in middle Kentucky this seemed to bethe only other means of getting out into water and hanging withfolks who appreciated a cold beer (if Rum wasn’t available) aftera hot day as much as I did. I did not know much except that itwas important to maintain good posture and attempt a roll if Iflipped the borrowed C boat I would be paddling. I did have thegood sense to bring a tent, sleeping bag, food, and the very nec-essary 12 pack of cold beer in the cooler to whet my thirst afterthe trip and to while the evening hours at the campfire away.

I had to borrow everything for the river trip itself (boat, paddle,helmet, life jacket etc) from Terry Weeks. Upon arrival at SamMoore's house, I received a large net bag of gear, to includespray skirt etc…, and upon an order issued by General Sam,placed it in the back of Don Spangler’s car. I specifically remem-ber being awed at how Sam cracked orders to all those arrivingand systematically, an odd assortment of multicolor rope andbungy cords wrapped the boats onto racks. The paddles wereliterally attached to racks along side the boats with a mystical setof odd-looking knots composed primarily of half hitches.Somehow all of the boats were successfully loaded on a varietyof vehicles and a trailer and we were off. I remember wonderingwhat I was getting into as I loaded up in Don’s station wagonwith the rustic roof racks that were adhered to the roof strictly bythe forces of gravity (no apparent device holding it down). Theboats were of a variety of vintages, mostly fiberglass, withragged points at the bow, some had duct tape holding either thestern or bow together. Most had extra tape here and there toprevent leaks. The majority were kayaks and the buzz wasabout laying up new ones in Sam’s backyard. I quickly realizedthat boats were like cheese. The aged fiberglass boats withmultiple patches, and scratches were probably the ones youwanted to be around if you were interested in a good story witha glass of wine.

When we got to the river I had everything I needed except thecritical, drown proofing, life jacket. I will never forget how tickedoff Sam Moore was about that, giving me a succinct, but humili-ating lecture in being “responsible for one’s own gear even if itwas borrowed”. Thankfully Mike Weeks drove all the way to

Wartburg to buy a really cheap, orange, kid-sized one for me.Sam really didn't think I should paddle with it, but Charles andMike assured him that I'd be ok. I will never forget the humilia-tion of being a woman paddling a manly C-boat (one that lookedlike it had been built to accommodate Landis' testosterone load -it was at least 13 feet long and the largest penile shaped boat Iremember) with a little kid's neon orange life jacket on. I defi-nitely felt like a drafted soldier being officially inducted into theriver annals fraternity, as there were maybe two other women onthe trip, one being Sam’s wife, Karen. I set out on the river, pad-dling with as much determination as my bent, aching ankleswould permit as I did not want to be an additional liability bybecoming a dreaded Swimmer. The Emory was relativelysmooth, not too much to upset the boat as long as you paddledhard through the rapids. I received a small confidence boostfrom Charles who kept telling me I looked good in neon orange.I also received good pointers from Sam attempting to teach mewhat an eddy was. I also remember being glad that at least Ihad brought my own tent and 12 pack of beer.

The river was great, Sam was a good teacher, Charles andMike helped by demonstrating what to do or what not to do.Later that night (Idon't rememberdetails, but at somepoint in a routineBWA post river alco-hol binge, MarkWilson and someothers hoistedSam's C-boat up ina tree about 20 or30 feet using Sam'sthrow rope. I willnever forget hisface the next morn-ing. His eyes were the size of big chocolate moon pies and hisface was a bright shade of strawberry red. I remember thinkinghow funny the "be responsible for you own gear" messageseemed that morning! I think it delayed us getting to the river agood half hour. We paddled that Sunday, my confidence slightlybetter and I ran Widowmaker successfully.

I knew after that trip that I was hooked on canoeing/kayaking-itdidn't matter if I would ever be good. The stories alone wouldmore than make up for it, along with plenty of interesting boatersto observe. Then there was the river experience itself, an oppor-tunity to hone decision-making skills, improve physical condition-ing, but mostly an opportunity to be outside on a river, away fromthe crowded city. In addition, there was an entirely new vocabu-lary that only a boater could understand, a fraternity built in calmwaters and in tough, dangerous rapids, but a camaraderie thatwould always prove interesting and endearing.

Jan Diebold Busse

My First BWARiver Trip

Janet doing a big bow draw on Mineral Creek in Alaska

Links to related Bowline stories:

Jan/Feb00 The BWA Spring Clinic:Confessions of a First-TimePaddler

NovDec99 The Novice pg 7

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Jan learned to paddle a C boat by determination and persis-tance. She is passing that love of the river on to her twodaughters, who may pass it on to thier kids and it started withthe BWA!

I can't tell you how important the BWA was to me in the 80sand the early part of the 90s. It was the tribe that kept mesane and helped me recover from a week of taxing work - itwas such a completely different experience to be on a riverthat demands complete presence of mind and to be therewith such great people - for me it captured some pre-industri-al age tribal spirit that nourished in some fundamental way.Of course, tribes have their rituals (taking students downNemo for the first time), and their gods and goddesses (theformer with a six-pack and the latter dressed in rubber). Imissed the tribe so much that when I was on sabbatical inDC for 12 months, I spent most of my weekends meeting up

with BWA folks inWPA or in WVA, andof course had tocome back toLexington for Barryand Cynthias's NewYear's eve party towelcome in 1988.

It was Beurenwho finally con-vinced me to trywhitewater boating.I had been a flatwa-ter - northern min-nesota - treking -portaging - mosqui-to-eating boaterbefore moving toLexington in '73.Beuren had beensuggesting that I try

WW boating for years before I finally said yes. One of myearly trips in '81 or '82 was on the Chattoga in flood, whereBeuren assured me that it would be no problem to take mydouble-hulled plastic lake-boat, with no way to brace my selfin and with no flotation, down Bull Sluice. Look at the size ofthat eddy at the bottom - and . . . I'll be down there with athrow rope. Of course I was reassured, and of course I wastrashed in the hole - but true to his word Beuren pulled meout of the river before I got to Augusta and those nice folks inSavannah sent my boat back real soon.

Buying a boat designed for whitewater (Nolan Whitesell's50th Pirhana) made doing those rivers so much easier, espe-cially after going to Madawaska. I also bought a Gyramax C-1 from Ed at RiverSports, for which I actually took an NOC

course to learn how to do pop-ups. There were so manytrips, clinics, rivers, and experiences - Ocoee, BSF, Obed,Lower Gauley, Cheat, the New, the Drys of the New (so manyboulders and great drops), Nolichucky, Yough, Potomac,Chattoga, Nanny, Maddy, etc. And of course, the Elkhorn forquick winter trips. So many campgrounds and so manyrestaurants - Mildred's (Don - did you go there only for thebanana pudding?) and the Blue Heron on the way backhome.

At the post-film festival parties, nobody, but nobody, ever,ever, came close to beating me and Lythia Metzmeier in theswimming pool dance contests. Of course boating makesfolks much better dancers, but I have to say that we wereoutstanding in spontaneous and unrehearsed gyrations ineverything from dirty dancing to latin beats. There should bea plaque at the swimming pool honoring our accomplish-ments during those professional-level performances.Hanging around with Sally Rose and taking all those greatroad trips with her were great and varied experiences. Onone trip we paddled a wilderness river in Ontario in the morn-ing and were at a Eurythmic's concert (still dressed inpolypros, that evening).

Even though I am so far away and am not good at stayingin touch, I still feel connected to every BWA member that I'veever shared an eddy, a beer, or a dessert buffet with. Youare in me still.

A few mysteries remain: Who is the clinic wrestlingchamp? How many beers does it really take to get from thestadium parking lot to Tsali or Frozen Head campground?Who has not gotten fooled by double-suck? Is there a wayto get down pure screaming hell in an open boat without get-ting two tons of water in the boat? What ever happened tothe devil worshipping - child sacrificing cult that used to hangout in the abandoned railroad tunnels on the road to theBSF?

The answers are still out there, I believe.

It Was The TribeThat Kept Me Sane

John Dougherty

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For about 3 decadesif you wamted a newboat, camping equip-ment, or anything tohave fun in the out-doors you talked to“Tubbo”. He wasalways “in the know”because of hisknowledge and con-tacts in the industry.Not only did he selleverything you need-ed, he was an acti-

vive paddler and outdoor enthusiast who used all the toyshe told you about. A friend to all of us since the days ofSAGE in the 70ies our outdoor pursuits would not havebeen as much fun without him. Thanks Tubbo!

Steve “Tubbo” Morgan Purveyor of our Toys

John, moved to Oregon a few years ago, but his heart andmind still turns to his paddling days in the Southeast with thefriends he has in the BWA.

Over the course of its somewhat brief history, theBWA has seen many a colorful character come and go.This is a recollection of perhaps the BWA’s most colorfulcharacter of all time Dave Weiland, better known as “Dad”or Daddy or Pappy to some people; there will never beanother quite like him.

I first met Dave in 1980 at one of his first and myfirst BWA meetings at the Joe Bologna’s on Southland Drivein the Spring or Summer of 1980. He was married at thetime, living near Danville working for a food service compa-ny. Both he and his wife were open boaters, hence I did notgo out of my way to get to know him. As luck would have itthat summer was extremely dry with next to nothing in boat-ing opportunities available for a green rookie like myself Mywork scenario had me away from the Lexington scene untilthe Spring of 1981.

The next time I remember Davewas at a BWA Safety Symposium thatthe club sponsored maybe in theSpring of 1982. Jerry Hey spotted himstumbling down the aisle at the eventand said, “see that guy, I think he isdefinitely party material”. Over thecourse of time, Dad would proveJerry’s observation to be most astute. Iremember a bash that evening involv-ing lots of old-timer BWA types out atTodds Road, back when the club tradi-tion was to open a bottle of Wild

Turkey 101 and immediately toss the cap. The BWA gainedinstant notoriety on a national level amongst paddlers.

Sometime after this event I begin to paddle morefrequently with Dave, we both had an affinity for playinghooky from work during the week to paddle. Though Davewas a line boater the fun usually did not start until after theriver had been run. Camping in the woods, drinking“Wodka”, embellishing true and untrue stories (usually aboutwomen), and cooking a night’s meal over a campfire, werethe things “Dad” really enjoyed most. It was during one ofthese early trips together that Dad became Dad,

It happened one night camping at Frozen Headwhile paddling the Obed. Like most horny healthy males,Dad was always trying to score. He would always think upthe most novel ways to gain an angle to do such. When he

saw a nice looking lady in her early forties (close to his age)with her younger daughter ( near my age) camping he boldlyintroduced us as Father and Son. It didn’t seem to work onthe Ladies that night, but it really did seem to fit our relation-ship at the time, and it stuck. As I came to know Dave moreand more he became much like a father to me, often coun-

seling me on life’s problems. I always felt proud when heintroduced me as “his son”, perhaps filling a void left by myreal Father’s death some ten years prior. He would go on toadopt more sibs into his family and even give them namessuch as my bastard son, etc. Hopefully these memoirs andanecdotes will inspire others to write.

The Japanese Revenge WeekendIt all started out during the middle of the week, per-

haps the first time Dave & I played hooky together, when hecame up with one of his brilliant ideas to solve shuttle logis-tics. We would borrow a mini-bike /moped from the son ofone of his employees and nm our own shuttle. The kid inDanville cranked it up in his yard, let Dad drive it aroundsome and then gave him a tutorial on how to start it, shuttleproblem solved. On down US 27 we did ride in theSupertruck (a mid sixies Chevy pick-up with a campertop) tothe O&W bridge, we would paddle the BSF the next day. Wemade a fire, content in our superior intelligence and problemsolving skills. Next morning after coffee (Dad was severelyaddicted to caffeine) we pulled the shuttle savior from the

The BWA’s MostColorful CharacterOf All Time

“John “Chief” Kulka

“Chief” is a unique character in his own right. He came to theBWA with aspirations on becoming a stock broker or some-thing like that.. But after swimming the Tellico for PMMagazine and Sam Dick (...but not as much) he succumbedto being a boater as his main interest in life. His story aboutDave Weiland reflects how he and all of us from those dayswill always have a spot in our hearts and memories for “Dad”.

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back of the truck After numerous attempts and profanitiesneither Dad nor myself could get it to start, much less runour shuttle. Our day was somewhat salvaged by running thecanyon section a couple of times. That afternoon, wepacked it up for the Obed and drove to Frozen Head tocamp. As we made the turn off TN 62 a backhoe pulled outof the prison shop into the path of the supertruck. I was atthe helm and swerved to miss the backhole placing thetruck into a ditch leaning at about a 45 degree angle.Crawling out the window I stepped on Dad’s face, he wouldembellish this story with the smell of gasoline etc. making itsound more perilous than it was, but that was Dad. Theguard / foreman of the prisoners took the leg chains off oneof the cons, hooked itto the Supertruck and pulled us fromthe ditch. with the backhoe. Away we went on with our datewith destiny.

We pulled in to the park and there was mom and daughterdoing the camping thing. Dave’s devious mind (penis) wentto work; and came up with the Father & Son angle. As Imentioned before it did not work (like the moped) but itstuck and grew. The next day we ran something in theObed. hiring a local, referred by a Mildred’s waitress, to runshuttle. That evening ( a Friday) we hooked up with someBWA folks and paddled for the rest of the weekend haulingthe Moped wherever we went. By this time Dave haddubbed this hulk taking up space in the truck, reeking ofgasoline “The Japanese Revenge”. Sunday evening wereturned the “Japanese Revenge” to its teenage owner. Dadexplained and apologized for screwing up the bike, but thekid looked at it and then cranked it up on the first try andbegan riding circles around us, to our utter shock.

The Supertruck, The Squad Car, The Hotel TruckLike many boaters we are often remembered not for theboats we paddle, butinstead the wheels thathaul our craft, Dad wasno exception to this rule.

As mentionedbefore The Supertruckwas Dad’s original mostcherished rig. It wasabout a 1965/66Chevrolet with a camper.It wasn’t really pretty, kind of drab looking, yet it was heldsacred in Dave’s eyes. He was convinced that it would goanywhere and would never die. The secret to its successwas 30 weight, not multi weight, non-detergent oil, of whichone could find a can under the seat on the passengers side.It was equipped with “the optional manual dome light” locat-ed in the ash tray. Yes, you got that right , you had to placeor remove the bulb by hand; who would want a switch? Dadhad a series of rules for his truck, perhaps previouslyreleased in “Bow Lines” which are a bit fuzzy. Failure toabide in these rules could lead to excommunication from hisfamily or general ostracation. Although, I speculate, I believethat his second wife hated to be seen around his truck, thus

becoming grounds for their divorce.The Squad Car was actually a series of vehicles dri-

ven by Dad that were also known by him as the “CompanyCar”. He purchased special racks that would leave no tellrack scratches on the rain gutters. The racks were not to beseen by any one associated with his work much less withboats upon them. The name squad car came one weekendat the Chattooga River (Dad’s favorite river) one night ofhard partying. This particular ride was a Caprice Classic andlooked like, you guessed it, an unmarked cop car with boats.Our behavior that weekend if witnessed by the Police wouldhave merited a ride in a Paddy Wagon. These corporatecars did not have the elan of theSupertruck nor perhaps of hismost infamous rig the HotelTruck.

The Hotel Truck wasperhaps the best and worst of allriver vehicles ever to have trav-eled the Southeastern US andbeyond. This Ford van had ahuge cargo box behind the cab,that Dave lovingly added hinged storage boxes for gear withfoam pads and carpet on top that could double as beds. Healso suspended two more bed spaces about four feet abovethe cargo bays for sleep or more gear. It could haul upwardsof eight boats with ease, if you could reach the racks. Fivepersons could ride in Winnebago type luxury and twelve ormore could squeeze in for shuttles. Gas cost were prohibi-tive though, even when shared by the masses pooling theirresources. One trip to the Rio Grande when a plug fouled ortiming jumped, it ran out of fuel several times, it wasn’t aMiles Per Gallon equation but rather a Gallons Per Mile for-mula. Fortunately for my wallet I missed that trip, but Iunderstand it was a classic Dad trip(as most were). Thisvehicle was not very stealth when it came to cops either.There was a tale of Ric Weeks talking himself out of a ticketwhile everyone in the back lay sprawled and passed out.Again I missed this (mis)adventure. Nonetheless whenparked at a campsite, it was a party magnet. Many intoxi-cants were consumed in this vehicle perhaps making it themost popular of all vehicles ever known in the BWA.Strangers would comment in disbelief and admiration whenDad and family would stagger out at the put-ins & take-outs.

Dad QuirksDave used to describe all his gear in terms of how

much it cost versus what it really might be for. His TeknaRiver Knife was the $50.00 knife, his Sling lite camp chairwas the $75.00 chair, his Mad River Explorer was the$1000.00 boat “my Dick” bought to impress chicks as hetook them down the Ocoee ala tandem style. His tent was A$ 350.00 North Face Bullfrog, that he used to try to get theopposite sex interested in, but most seemed not to beimpressed with the tent. He was a gear junkie, rumor had itthat Don Spangler, Frank Loudermilk, and Dad kept the oldSage store alive for a year or two longer than it could have

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prophetic words, although many were “shocked” at the time.Do BWA meetings still get bogged down with Elkhorn argu-ments?

Well I could go on and on about Dave “Dad”Weiland but suffice it to say he was one of the most dearestof fiiends and confidants I ever had the privilege of knowingfor about six years of my life. Tragically, Dave drowned onthe Crystal River in Colorado in the Summer of 1986. It was

some of the sad-dest news I everheard in my life; Iwas shook; I feltgrief I cried lots. Atthe Memorial ser-vice on TheChattooga River; Igot to meet Dad’s“real” family whoshowed me thesame warmth andacceptance thatDave had done tome. For that I amvery grateful Dad’sashes were spreadby his daughterDenise at SevenFoot Falls while hisfamilies said theirgood-byes. The

next time you run Seven Foot Falls, bear in mind that Dad’sspirit is there toying with some people’s runs (especiallyrafters helping others stay on line and smiling approvingly atall who seek adventure and’ escape on Pristine Rivers. Dad,you might be gone, but I don’t think You’ll ever be forgotten;at least by me.

survived without them.Dad had his favorites too; his favorite river and trip was anovernighter on the Chattooga; he was extremely fond of anyovernighter and loved to be king of the kitchen. His favoriteband was The Eagles, he would ask strangers where ‘shecame 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 woreshirts with epaulets that made him look like an official ofsome type, once even confusing a college kid at FrozenHead into thinking he was THE Ranger and confiscating hisjoints. He felt Paddling was a form of therapy for him (I’msure many of us would agree).. Although he C-led a

Gyromax and a squirt C-I, his most noted runs were done ina Mad River ME. Among them Section IV of the Chattooga (too many times to count), The Upper Gauley, and the GrandCanyon as well as numerous runs at Potter’s Falls for thelocal fans. Perhaps not too Earthshattering by today’s stan-dards; but considered quite a series of feats in the early80’s.

Perhaps a side that few people knew about Davewas his advocacy for human rightsafter a visit to Chiapas paddlingthe Rio Jatate’. He wrote lettersto Senators, Congressmen etc.about the injustices that wereoccurring on the Mexican-Guatemalan border. He also sentChristmas presents to the Children ofsome of the less fortunate locals he often hired to rum hisshuttles. A particular driver that I know still speaks reverentlyof Dad and his generosity. To the unknowledgeable he couldseem rough, crude, and honery, which he could be at times.He was not afraid to say what he thought often to the con-sternation of those who took an opposite view. Perhaps myfavorite example of that occurred one BWA meeting whenthe dreaded discussion of The Elkhorn access came up,circa 1983 (boaters have had to buy land to resolve thisissue just recently). Some people explained how they weretalking with the Soffley’s to settle our differences, when theygave Dad the floor he stated, “I say we quit kowtowing tothe b**** and take manners into our own hands”. Quite

Links to related Bowline stories:

May/June00 Remembering two beloved BWA Paddlers

Nov/Dec99 Stacy King Remembered

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BWA Old Timers in the making at the 25th Reunion

So Don asks me to write something for the 30yr BWA newsletter.I am sitting on the deck at the put in of Lower Howard’s Creek.

Buzzed by hummingbirds, serenaded by cicadas, with 4 drowsydogs at my feet. Cynthia found this place for me, paddling up tome at a pool session at the YWCA in Jan ’84. “ I found the perfecthouse for you.” She was right, as usual.

I look down the trail and see my first boat, the original miragewith plastic pillars, now planted with impatiens popping up throughcircular holes in the bow, stern and cockpit. I did an overnighter onthe Upper Gauley in that. Tubbo and I. Tub was a pro back then,manager of ACE rafting. Talks me into a right middle run of Sweet’sFalls. (Last time, I was further right than I’ve ever been. Never evengot my hair wet … Gee, I dunno, I never had any problems withSweet’s.) Tubbo leads, jams hispaddle in a rock and disappearsover the drop sans paddle. I amjust behind him , pretty far right,and IN the hole. Let’s just say, 30lbs of gear in the stern of a 13foot boat, with that hydrology,lends itself to a pretty dynamicbackender.

Further down the trail is mysecond boat , another mirage ,also filled with impatiens. ThreeGrand Canyon trips, one at flood.

So how do I summarize athousand days on the river andcountless more partying with the BWA in the 2 pages our augustnewsletter editor has allotted me?

It was 1980. I was young, strong and possibly even handsome. Iborrowed Ken Pyles’ aluminum canoe, hitched the shuttle and ranthe north fork of the Elkhorn by myself . I thought I was Lewis AndClark . I was hooked. I get an ABS Mad River Explorer from Tubboat Sage Outfitters in Louisville .Sam Moore outfitted it for me so itcould be rolled. (The first open boat to do the Grand, only a yearbefore.)

August 1980, a group of 13 attend Madawaska Kanu Kamp inOntario. I am the only open boat and am put in a kayak. I swimmy ass off for 4 days and am too tired to boat, if that’s what you callit, on Friday.

Feb 17, 1981 first whitewater roll on the Elkhorn. It was cold. Spring “81 Crooked Fork. My first harder than class 2 run. I carry

my boat down below Potter’s Falls. A helpful friend carries it back

up. “Oh, you’re gonna run this.” As I enter my boat, Ed Puterbaughholds a straight pin, vertically, and laughingly says , “ I bet I couldn’tget 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 footdrop, the run was clean. Don loses the pictures.

Summers on the Ocoee. When there were no rafts, occasional-ly one other group ( Brothers) and Rich Lewis , who started 6months ahead of me and has stayed there ever since. Talented,analytical, and the best of teachers. (No kidding, he taught the pro-foundly mentally handicapped, so it wasn’t ABC, but A1, A2, A3,until you got A, then B. We played follow the leader, trying to con-jure the hardest lines so the one behind was hosed. We wouldpaddle a week at a time and river was all ours. Thank you, Rich,and Bless you.

Another week at Madawaska . With the Chief, whom I hadtaught to roll and deep scull. He was pitiful at first, but he neverdoubted himself. He would become an NOC guide and instructor.

About that time, as I had it bad for boating, I kept calling SamMoore to take me somewhere that was too easy for him. Hey, youneed to call Rich Williams. He was a student at Morehead whohad been calling Sam too. So Rich, aka Moose, and I went outand swam a bunch of class 2 stuff, effectively getting the two of usout of Sam’s hair.

Rich Lewis, Moose and I and another big group go toMadawaska in “82. I am stoked. For advanced rating, you need toclean 40 gates in a class 2-3 continuous rapid. We go there earlyand paddle the Ottawa several times before the course. I hadeven resorted to training. 2 1/2 miles lap swims, weights, run-ning… So I sleep in the day of the test, missing the morning ses-sion. This was day 7 of paddling, and even God, right, took a dayoff. Our instructor is a totally buff 18 year old Dana Chladek, 4th inthe world at that time and future silver medalist in Barcelona andAtlanta in whitewater slalom. Right off, she starts busting my ballsabout missing the morning session. I am in the sack, mentallymaking every stroke through 40 gates. Never mind, I nailed thecourse. “Maybe you should consider an exercise program?” saysDana.

The next day, Moose and I pull her boat, gear and gasping bodyfrom Big McCoy.

Nov ’83, Grand Canyon. 30,000 CSF. I have never seen any-thing like this. 20 foot standing waves. I am having a crisis of confi-dence. Moose is cool with the whole scene. So, I start hangingwith him. He is now the Mgr of ACE on the New, and has beenboating 7 days a week. As we arrived at the top of some big drop,Moose would crane his neck, scouting then turn and look at mesaying, “Hey Fat Boy, get up here and lead this drop.” I knew,deep down, Moose didn’t want to kill me. A few days of that, andmy mojo returned.

Did I mention Moose made the US team in Whitewaterfreestyle, competing in the “93 worlds? He boated 20 days on thePoudre last month. He will come to the reunion if his rock band isnot playing. As he is partial to the S8 235, I am making a plea toour beloved club pres to spot him his boat.

Summer “84 The Grand at 43,000… Big Water. Observation. All my first swims were rescued by Don Spangler.

Attentive, safety-minded companion? Or jinx? To this day, who’s tosay?

Oct “84. Barry Grimes discovers video. The lost Ocoee week-

A River Runs Through It,No SH**

Frank Loudermilk

It is unfortunate that Frank decided that being a doctor wasa good way to make money. He would have made a greatcomedic poet. In fact, while he has had some tough com-petition from other wantabe poets in the club, he is oftenlooked on as the poet laureate of the BWA. This isbecause of the fame of one of his major works of poetry,“The Ballad of McCauley B”.

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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 look-ing out for one another. If somebody gets in trouble, everything stops. You spend the nights partying, camping and busting each othersballs. 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 putsyou 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

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The Ballad of McCauley B.(Rated R)

McCawley B.Like a big oak tree,Had muscles like hard stone.He could row and drinkLike the missing LinkHad children of his own.

McCawley B.We could all seeWas tottering on the sandHis Bloodshot eyesAs big as pies.His flashlight in his hand.

He'd had too muchOf beer and suchAnd simply too much funHe waved goodbyWhat a strange guy.He thought his day was done.

The fire grew dimAnd I looked at himAs he ambled off to bedHe could little knowWhat lurked belowWaiting to be fed.

He unzipped his tentHis energy spentand lay down for a rest.He closed an eyeAnd heaved a sigh,Then the Beast ran over his chest

Like desert plainwhere cacti reign,The mousie must have thought.He little knewBy this miscue,What vengence he had wrought

And they heard a screamLike a horrible dream,and the tent did heave and twitch.And they heard a shoutGet the f___ out!I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch!

And the ground would quakeAnd his comrads shakethe battle would ensue.All who would hearwould cry in fearAs he gave the mouse his due.

He swung and missedThen growled and hissed.As the interloper fled.He tossed and moanedThen he flailed and groaned"I’ll bash its f______ head."

He raised his armWith little charmAnd pounded hard away.The mouse it thoughtIf it got caught,That it would die that day.

McCawley B.So filled with glee,He dropped his jungle hat.He took his aimThen nailed his gameAnd squashed the bastard flat.

And we would seeThat McCawley B.A boatman brave and true.Was tough enoughAnd up to snuffTo mash that mouse to goo.

The Mouse just slainHad felt no pain-And McCawley had to pee.With heartfelt lossAnd a mighty toss,He burried it at sea.

And there he stoodFeeling quite good,His urine flowing free.And said out loudQuite fierce and proudDon't ever f___ with me.

That very nightWe heard of the fight,And humbled we all felt.And we gave the manA hearty handAnd a championship belt.

A belt of goldWe are toldSilvered, rubied, and pearled.A fitting catchFor he won the matchOf loser leave the world.

He beamed with prideAnd glowed inside,As the new champ was crownedWith balls as largeAs a river bargeAnd a d___ that could drag the ground.

When tales are toldof the brave and boldOn the Colorado River.Of deeds so daringAnd downright scaringCrown men start to shiver,

He stands aloneA class of his own,A light for the world to see, A hulk of a manWith massive glandsAnd his name is McCawley B.

Bowlines Jan/Feb 84

My first encounter with the BWA was at the forks of theElkhorn. I had bought a canoe, an OCA from Tubbo inLouisville. I bullshitted him about how much paddling I haddone. I don’t think he bought it but was happy to take mymoney. I had floated a section of the Greenbrier in Westbut God. It was class 2/3 at best and yes, we were drink-ing. So, yes I was an experienced paddler …wasn’t I?

A few weeks later, after surviving Prince to Thurmond onthe New and scanning Bob Sehlinger’s “Canoeing&Kayaking Guide to Kentucky” I saw that the Elkhorn waswhite hot! (My words.) So…on Saturday my girlfriendHeather and I threw the boat on my 65 Dodge Dart andheaded towards Franklin County in the rain. It was at thattime there was a convergence. Me being a moron, TheElkhorn running at 3.5 ft and rising and Ed Puterbaughbeing wise and waiting on a shuttle in the rain. Thankfully,Ed saw through my posturing that I had a clue, (“Whatdam?”) and suggested the creek might be a tad high. Edinvited us to a club meeting the following Tuesday. So withthat kind act Ed and his group were kept from participatingin a body recovery(Heather and me) and I found the tribeknown as the BWA.

The meeting was fun. Sat next to Don and Burean andacross from Charles Andre and Jerry O’Conner. Whowould have thought that that one act would create lifetimefriends, decades of adventure and more memories andstories than I can recall.

So, what have I learned about the BWA and it’s myriad ofcharacters?

I learned at my first clinic that that even being underfed and pissedoff, the BWA were cool in the face of a crazed man with a long bar-reled pistol.

I learned that canoes are noble crafts that can run anything a kayakcan.

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 youscream curse words doing the inside seems on a glass C-1.

I learned that you will have both booties sucked off if you miss astroke on the Ottawa River and go into Big McCoy’s hole.

I learned that it’s more shameful to not throw the Wild Turkey corkaway than it is to be found in the woods sleeping with your pant’saround with your knees ( Not Me)

I learned Bo Diddle will run your shuttle at the Caney Fork.

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 GladysBreeden’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 tosmile on their memory and go on.

I learned how to drink a cocktail through a head net on the SandRiver

I learned an overnighter on Sections 2,3 and 4 of the Chattooga withBurean 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 BensonCreek at Flood.

I learned when Rick Weeks runs you over with his jeep. You have toget up and boat the next day.

I learned I can find a chiropractor every day in upstate New York afterI pop my neck out on the Hudson Gorge.

This I Have Learned

John Davis

22

John Davis came to us from Wisconsin much as you expectsomeone from that state: He knew how to make Usingerssausage (American’s finest) and drink lots o’ beer. We got him toenjoy Kentucky food (beans and cornbread) but he never reallyhandled his bourbon too well. (ha!) He use to bring big batchesof Usingers sausages back from his Wisconsin visits that wewould cook in beer and butter before we grilled them and washthem down with beer. Nowadays he comes back to visitKentucky, not so much for the food (he is a Californian now yousee), but to visit his friends in the BWA. You might say we havebecome an important part of him and he a part of us.

If you want to witness video as art, view some of the video hehas entered in the NPFF over the years. My favorites were“Heart of Dampness” and “Dawn Ballet”. John’s professionalismas a videographer taught us a lot about what to look for in theentries at the NPFF.

Always great to see you John!

John taping Kent Ford & Charlie during making of river safetyvideo “Whitewater Self Defense”.

was wrong.

I discovered this anomaly early in the class when DalePerry brought in his fake dog poop to throw on the class-room floor. After this incident, when discussing first aid, Icouldn’t talk about prophylaxis without Tim Miller gigglinglike a girl. Then there was Bill (Beel) Lynch who mentionedhis full sized blow-up doll during our discussion of inflat-able devices. At one point I actually had to stop class andreprimand everyone for constantly straying from theirassigned tasks, the whole time thinking, “These guys areold enough to know better.” I was wrong.

The water skills portion of the class seemed to go better.The BWAers were actually paying attention. They asked tosee demonstrations of the water skills. Then they asked tosee them demonstrated again. I thought, “Well, they mightnot pick things up asquickly as my 16-year oldstudents, but at least theycare about learning theskills correctly.” I waswrong.

As it turns out, the “vic-tim” for these demonstra-tions was my cute, 22-year old, well-endowedfemale assistant who,during the rescue, waspositioned on her back ona floating tube, her armssplayed glamorouslyabove her head, her per-fect chest poised inviting-ly high above the water.She was the only thingthat the male BWAers inthe class cared aboutseeing. The drool gener-ated during these demon-strations raised the waterlevel in the pool a full 2inches.

We finally got through the entire 27-hour class, amid strug-gles, laughter (you can’t do anything with MarreaMatthews without finding humor in your endeavors), lunchtrips to Jozo’s, and the final test. All of the BWAers passedthe class, and I ended up joining a group that introducedme to some of the best friends I’ve ever had. So thanks,Dale, for the dog poop that kicked things off, and thanks toall of the other BWAers in that lifeguarding class whostarted me down the road (or river, if you will) to the BWA.Like our web site says: You can paddle any river! Youcan’t always find friends this good!

My introduction to the BWA started with a lifeguardingclass that I taught in early 1999. Out of 11 people in theclass, 10 were BWA members. Most of these 10 were age30-something: the time of life where you assume maturityand discretion are the rules rather than the exceptions. I

Class…Class…Class…SHUT UP! And Thank You!

Kathy Rose

23

I learned that dancing with Lythia, Cynthia and Sali Bob in the rainand ankle deep mud at the Gualey festival is real partying.

I learned that Don will flush through a narrow sieve as we ignoredhim swimming while we surfed it up. But his watch won’t.

I learned that when you are swimming into Lower Kenny at 6 ft. andSam Moore sez “John, you have to let go of my boat now. Don’tworry, 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 inColorado.

I learned the “Worm” was a sweet surfing open boat.

I learned that Hard Tongue Falls on the Tygert Gorge was a simplemove 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.

I learned Upper Potters Falls was easier before breakfast.

I learned that Mike Molnar’s tent is the best tent to put up in a tree.

I learned I miss the rivers of the Southeast, Frozen Head andRattlesnake Ridge.

I learned to buy beer on Saturday cuz Sunday you might not get any.

I learned that after 15 runs, I don’t know how to run Sock’em Dogwith out flipping.

I learned that the random act of sitting down with Don atthat first BWA meeting can change your life. I fell into aclan that cared for me as much as I did care for them. As inall families, there have been disputes, and we got overthem. So in the end there has been a bond made for all oftime. Happy 30th!

Quick of wit and a bit mischievous at times Kathy is alway funto have on a paddling trip. She has served as newsletter edi-tor (not an easy task) twice over the years and has stepedforth to do it once more. Thanks Kathy!

Kathy in Desolation Canyon onthe Green River, Utah

As the current President of the BWA, I thought it appropriate togive a few reflections on the club. Don first pointed out a fewmonths ago that the BWA was “turning 30” this year. Since I’mpractically the same age as the club, it’s obvious that I haven’tbeen around for very much of its life. However, one of theenduring traits of the BWA is the livelihood of some of its earlymembership. It is through the continued support, activity, andexcitement from founding members and those who have morehistory with the club that inevitably brings this group that muchcloser together.

In my short six-year membership, I’ve been fortunateenough to see this support and history firsthand. At my firstBWA event, Dave Margavage was my instructor for the springclinic. He continued showing me and some other new membersdown several of our first runs. Off the river, he displayed in true

BWA fashion, howto have a goodtime. He sharedstories from pastclinics and clubparties, and we didour share to createsome future storiesof our own. Wetook two trips outwest, and I learnedthe ropes fromsomeone who was

willing to pass on his experience. I’m ready to show Super downone a new creek or two and return the favor. Dave stepped upyears ago to take on the NPFF Director’s role. He’s recentlymoved aside, but in true BWA fashion, Todd Garland is there tocarry it on.

Through Dave and the NPFF, I met local legends Dr. Frank andYT. Frank has always been willing to share advice ever sincethat first time he did so “Dear Abby” style on Benson creek whenI was stressed about making it off the river in time for a date withthe girlfriend’s parents. I’ve since seen him surf countlesswaves, often times with only one hand as the paddle lay acrosshis shoulder, a wide smile on his face. One particular surf ses-sion comes to mind, when Frank and I enjoyed the section ofwaves above the take-out on the main Otter, catching as manyas possible to end a work day. Still seeing the famous face fromearly NPFF entries brings a connection back to those years.

YT is yet another example of continued support andactivity. I’ve gotten to know YT from his willingness to step upand volunteer, specifically in regard to the NPFF treasury posi-

tion and sponsor contacts. He never asks what he can do; hesimply takes control of what needed to be done. His excitementto help out just causes is admirable. I have gotten to knowMackey Williams and his son Tyler, both BWA members during

their time here inLexington. I have sincehad the pleasure to “ gobig” out west withMackey, and be showndown the Upper Youghby his son, Tyler.Mackey’s excitement forthe outdoors and pad-dling remains, and he isalways ready for a newadventure. This year I’vebeen fortunate enough to

meet Chief and Betsy. Every time we’ve gotten together, it hasbeen another unforgettable trip. He willingly shares his knowl-edge of paddling logis-tics, trip planning, andlevel know-how as wellas reliving old BWA tripsand parties. We’vecaught a couple of greatcreeks together, and I’manxious to get back outwith them and Mackey.

A couple offolks who’s faces arestaples in the BWA historybooks truly bridge the gapwith all the new members - B6, C6 and Don Spangler. Barryhas done so much for the paddling community as a whole, notonly the BWA and NPFF. I’ve learned many old stories of BWAlegends through the Grimes’ while sitting around a campfire or

morning coffee. Barry’s dedi-cation to keeping the BWAtraditions alive is as strongnow as I imagine it was in thebeginning. C6 is still as will-ing as ever to lead anyonedown a new run and share abeer at the takeout. Howmany of you BWAer’s fol-lowed her down the Lower G

for your first time? I did. After getting Barry into the sport andnow raising two wonderful kids to be great paddlers, the Grimes’are a true whitewater family.

Don is another pillar of commitment. In working withDon the two years I was in charge of the BWA clinic, it becameobvious to me what he was about. Don cares about this cluband cares about doing things right. He’s one to not only giveadvice, but to volunteer himself to take care of it. The amount ofwork he puts into the BWA might go unnoticed by some, but notme, and I hope not you. Don has remained our Cyber Masterfor as long as I can remember and for the last year has steppedup and been churning out some of the best Bowline editions I’veread. All of this, and his willingness to mix up one of his infa-

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil… orsomething.

B6 liking what he finds in Sal’s Hole on a high Muddy Day

Mackey taking in the Crested Butte scenery

Chief boof’n Oh Yeah! on Little Clear

Reflections….

Phillip “Bubba” Sisk

24

“Bubba” is part of the young “dudes” who are now the club andwho are just as enthusiastic about it and paddling as earliergenerations were. Many things may have changed, but there isno lack those who are optimistic about the BWA! May therealways be lots of rain for you!

BWA’s First Woman PresidentBrigid DeVries

Brigid was elected in 1992 and 1993. She was an activepaddler of both OC-1 and OC-2 and boated extensivly in

the SE with trips in California,Maine and Utah. She introducedtheme potlucks at our gatherings, ie.Mexican, Cajun, Italian, etc. Brigidled an all womens team that includ-ed her with Lythia Metzmier andMarrea Mathews that finished sec-ond in the women’s division at theNOC Spring Triathlon. She also

managed two rather notorious guys who were her VP’s:Weeks and Sockeye. I am sure that experience help pre-pare her for present job as Commissioner of the KHSAA!

mous drink concoctions, make him a person I’m glad to call afriend. Through Don, I was able to meet Sam Moore and Steve“Tubbo” Morgan. These two came back to the clinic when calledupon to help make the pig roast come alive and leave anothermark in the BWA history books. That is just another “lead byexample” that we could all stand to remember when the clubneeds a helping hand.

The folks I ref-erence here are simplya few of the many per-sonas out there keepingthe BWA alive and well.My point was not to sin-gle someone out butinstead bring attentionto what has been donebefore us, what contin-ues to be done today,and what we can do inorder to keep the BWAas fruitful for future generations as it is for us. The BWA hasn’tmade itself over the last 30 years; it’s taken the hard work, thecreativity, the planning, and the ideas of a group of people.Today you’re celebrating in what has evolved, with a greatopportunity to add your own mark. Maybe 30 years from now Iwill have influenced the paddling career of a future member likeso many of the people above influenced me. Happy Birthday,BWA, and job well done to its members.

25

The Master PlanAs the glory of the safety and rescue symposium fades into the sun-set, and members of the BWA head into the paddling season withgreat stories of new knowledge, it came to my attention that there isone area of paddling where the average boater is sorely lacking in skilland knowledge: the shuttle.

In order to consider oneself a truly well-rounded paddler, it, is neces-sary that one be able to arrange and put into practice a precise, sys-tematic and efficient shuttle. In an effort to be helpful (good BWAmembers- are always helpful), I have put together. a list of recommen-dations for devising a Master Shuttle Plan (designed for anywherefrom 10 -100 people), that even the most novice paddler can put intopractice -- given an IQ of 50 or above.

I. The name of the game is CONTROL. There are several ways toattain this:

A. Confusion - This is your best toll for control. Simply makesure that you are the only person that knows what the entire MasterPlan is and how to accomplish it.

1. It sometimes helps to use bigwords that nobody knowsthe meaning of to describe the plan, e.g. circuitous turn.(!)

B. Degree of Difficulty - Be sure that your plan is as compli-cated as possible. Remember: The best plans are those which arealmost impossible to carry out. Helpful Hints:

1. Have at least 3 or 4 different put-ins and take outs.

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 people 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 pad-dling the same river).

2. Designated times and places for members of the group to change clothes, eat and use bathroom (wonderful for calm-ing down hyper and psyched out novices).

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 Planon your next trip.

Pam Weeks from Bowlines May 1982

Old Fart BWAers Dinger, Weeks, Mooreand Tubbo cooked the pig at the 2004

clinic.

Bluegrass Wildwater AssociationPO Box 4231Lexington, Ky. 40504

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

BWA is Celebrating it’s 30th!

Come and pass the Turkey at the Bonfire and tell your paddling story!

Hey! “Young Dudes”!

Can the “old” guys party likethey say they used to?

Can they recognize and namemore rapids than you?

Come find out at the 30thReunion Party!

More Info will be posted as available at:

www.surfbwa.org on the events page

“Old Timers”!

Are the young guys as tuffas they claim to be?

Can they stay on the stoolbetter in the rope game?

Can they really paddlethose “tiny” whimpy boats.

Camping and Activties atOutdoor Adventure Rafting

(O.A.R.) Welcome Valley RoadDirections to OAR:

http://www.raft.com/dirctions.htm(Pay OAR for Camping)

Be There! October 13-14-15Club provides main course Sat. Nite

Plan to bring potluck to sharePlease RSVP with Bubba at: pwsisk0@engr.uky.edu