McGill

McGill Creek was like a whirlwind in my mind. Looking back it seems more like a dream than reality. If it weren’t for the pictures, McGill would be my Wonderland. Was I really there? Was that a dream?


When I sit back and try to think of McGill, I don’t remember much. I remember the gorge, how I felt, and the destruction from the night before; but I don’t remember the rapids. It’s all a blur of emotions that come back as snap shots from inside the gorge. I guess when you burn the candle at both ends, it eventually burns out.

Chris McCoy Boofing the First Rapid Tooth Pick

 
 

This spring in Chattanooga was one of the best I can remember from mid March thru April we had water.  I had the opportunity to run all my favorite runs, explore several new runs, and then some.  I was blessed to be able to paddle 16 days in March and 26 days in April.   Not bad considering I don’t have a “Bomb Flow” trust fund, and work 40+ hours a week.  But when  you’re paddling 42 out of 61 days and still maintaining a job something has to give, for me this is sleep.   Needless to say going into April 27 I was nearly exhausted, but when spring rolls around you never know which rain will be your last . So I intended to take advantage of every last drop.

 

Chris McCoy Typical McGill

April 27 rolled across the South east like a freight train, literally. Tornadoes and Storms destroyed much of Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, and Tennessee. So instead of sleeping, like I would normally do after paddling all day and working all night, I was glued to the TV and radio hoping everyone was ok. So when work rolled around, I was a little less than rested. After the anxiety of the storms faded the excitement of the rain hit and I rode that high to the morning, making plans with Chris McCoy for another new run.

After 36 straight hours of paddling, work, and worry; I met Chris at the Burger King in Soddy Daisy at 0630 am. Chris thought I looked exhausted, but that wasn’t anything a Red Bull and coffee couldn’t shake off. So after a quick breakfast we headed for McGill. At the put in the land owner came out and greeted us. She told us of the destruction the storms had caused and asked us to be careful because the rescue squads already had their hands full. We had heard if the water was low the paddle in was very abusive, our paddle in was anything but. We had a very nice flow of continuous class III, with the occasional strainers to dodge. As the gradient picked up we continued with our usual lead until you’re tired method. This was where I bonked, McGill was awesome read and run whitewater, but the lack of sleep, continuous nature of the rapids, and just general fatigue caught me. I told Chris he was going to have to take over, because all I could do was follow. I was mentally and physically drained. Chris being the phenomenal paddler he is gladly accepted the challenge, and styled the lines as I blundered behind.

I don’t know if it was because I was just following Chris or because I was almost delirious with exhaustion, but the beauty of the gorge is all I remember.   The rapids were hard and fun, but I approached most of them with a very lackadaisical attitude.   Instead of focusing on the rapids at hand I found myself more focused on the details of the gorge.   The sun burned off the fog and shown in rays  through the canopy.  The reflection of the dew on the leaves and blooming flowers glittered like metal flake.  The walls of the gorge shined like freshly polished jewels and waterfalls cascaded over joining us in our journey down the creek.  I felt like I was in a movie or a magical cartoon world, not a class V gorge 30 minutes from downtown Chattanooga.  In my mind, I remember this more as a ride at Disney World; rather than a class V hair run.

Chris McCoy Running Cumnock Falls

Chris McCoy at McGill Falls



DRY COON

Quality First Descents are few and far between in the Southeast. Mostly I find myself rediscovering many of the Gorges and Creeks that were originally discovered by the pioneers of our sport. Scanning the Topographical Maps and Google Earth, you can find many un-run creeks. But most of the time there is a reason they haven’t been run; maybe it’s a tiny watershed, maybe it’s too “fringe” to run, or maybe it’s just a plain old’ pile of sh*t. So to catch wind of a run like we found is a rare find.

Recently we have been concentrating our focus on Sand Mtn. This is an area known more for snake handling than white water. The Creeks here are dangerous, hard, and they all involve a lake paddle. There are also no real “Big Drops” that make you think “wow” or “amazing.” It’s mostly just dirty creeking, hard boulder gardens filled with many hidden dangers that would impress very few from pictures or video. Thus this area has always seemed to be a little less cool, than the other surrounding areas. This lack of coolness has always suited me just fine, because most of the time the only paddlers are us. So to hear that there was a major un-run creek on this mountain wasn’t that far fetched.

Finding this run was always a focus of ours, but it never really happened. Whether it was the habit of going to our favorite run, just the unknown, or the possibility of wasting the day on an epic portage fest; we passed on this run a few times.

The Put In

Monday March 28, 2011, Chris McCoy and I met up for our usual Sand Mtn. fun. He had the day off and I had to be back at work for a night shift. So we decided to make an earlier start. On my drive to meet Chris I noticed all the creeks FULL of water. So I started to decide how high was too high for me. Luckily Chris was doing the same thing. Finding the creek on the “high side of scary” we gladly tuck tail and decided to look elsewhere to get our fix. Options were limited we could drive over to Lookout or down to Little River Canyon. Neither of these really sparked much appeal to us. It was always my belief that Dry Coon Creek ran when everything was high. So I mentioned this to Chris and he was immediately game.

We spent the next hour or so scrambling to remember the directions to the put in, take out and looking at a map. A couple of locals followed us to the take out, they were curious of this mystery creek they had never heard of and wanted to warn us of the pack of wild dogs and the full grown mountain lion his buddy saw back there in the fall. We took this as a kind gesture and appreciated the encouragement, it’s always better to have curious, supportive locals than angry ones. We suited up and drove to the put in. It was amazing a possible first descent, it involved no hiking that we knew of and a short lake paddle.

At the put in we deemed the level to be a bit low, but hey we were there. So we proceeded. The level was a low medium and about an inch more water would have been perfect. The run started out very mellow. We ran two small rapids and saw an ominous horizon line. This must be “The Big One” that was rumored to be in here. It was. This rapid was a 3 part drop, that dropped between 50 to 60ft. It’s a beautiful boof into a pushy slide into about a 12ft ledge. After a long scout I set safety below the falls and Chris fired it up. After a quick celebration I ran up and proceeded to run it also. Let me say this may be one of the most fun rapids I have ever run. We dubbed it “The Creecher”.

Matt Wallace on the Entrance Drop on "The Creecher"

The Final drop of "The Creecher"

Chris McCoy on one of the early boofs

A typcle rapid we called it Slave Cave

The Rest of this section consisted of fun easy IV+ slides and a ledge or two. Then soon the gradient teetered out and we thought it was over. We had know a tributary came in halfway down the run, but thought we must have missed it because we were having so much fun. Anyway about that time we saw the tributary and realized the fun had only begun. The river then changed character to full on boulder garden. The rapids were steep, manky, and dirty, but the lines were obvious and clean. Each rapid had a great swooping boof or rock grind. We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves. But as time passed these rapids didn’t let up. We began to wonder when is this going to end, how long was this run, and I had to get to work so we didn’t really have all day. Everything in the section went except for two mandatory portages, where the entire river disappeared in to a sieve. Due to the steep un relenting nature of this section of river we dubbed it “the Alabama 9” after a similar section of river we ran last summer. This section ended with a great sliding rapid that almost mirrored “Slide for Life” on Cheeseman Canyon in Colorado.  We dubbed this rapid "Hinds' Sight" in memory of  Brad Hinds (an Alabama Paddling Legend).  After the short paddle out and lake paddle we were riding high on life, excited to find such a quality run.

Chris McCoy on some Boogie Pictures don't do it justice

More Boogie

This was a fun rapid real twisty and turny  Notice the drops above in the background

Alot steeper than it looks.

Another Rapid that pictures don't do justice. At the bottom of this one I eddied out to wait for Chris and accidently put my hand on a beaver needless to say it scared both me and the beaver.

Chris McCoy typicl grind boof

This is the biggest seive I  have seen. It is after a real narrow slot canyon. Don't miss the eddy because all the water goes through there.

A typical Double boof on the bottom.

Matt Wallace Grinding another rapid

This was the nature of the bottom half slotty grinding boofs.  So Much fun.

Big thanks to all the guys who came before us and inspire us to keep searching.  Thanks to the “Bama Crew” that cleaned this thing out many years ago, wondering if it was even run able.  Thanks to the core group of guys I paddle with, there may have been only two of us there but without yall I wouldn’t be where I am as a paddler.

Chris McCoy Doing what he does best.

A more thorough run description will follow with access directions, rapid names, etc. after Chris and I have time to sit and compare notes.  If you want any information feel free to contact me.

MW

Mullen's Creek

Mullen's Creek  Put In
 

Mullen’s Creek flows off Signal Mountain through the Prentice Cooper Wildlife Management area. It is a rarely paddled gem for the Chattanooga area creek boater. It is set in a beautiful gorge with probably the best water quality on the ridge. It also holds its water very well, since it is located in a WMA. It is the definition of Chattanooga IV+. It is a fairly continuous series of manky boulder gardens. The gorge has one large Class V+ and a few that teeter in-between IV+ and V- depending on the water level.

Chris McCoy on one of the Class V's

 Jon Willerson in the Runout Below the first Big Rapid

Why Mullen’s Creek is rarely paddled?

First off if Mullen’s is running Suck Creek and Cain/ North Chick are running. Cain/ North Chick is the Quintessential Chattanooga Classic, and well Suck Creek is for the cool kids. Both Suck and Cain/N. Chick have easy shuttles and are open to the public year round.

Secondly Mullen’s Creek is a lot harder logistically speaking. The shuttle is LONG and the put in easy not that easy to find. Also if it is Turkey season the WMA is closed.

 Jon Willerson on some Classic Class IV

 Chris McCoy Typical Mullen's Creek Rapid

 Jon Willerson on the biggest Rapid in the Lower Section

The Run

Mullen’s Creek is a IV-V run. It is harder than Cain/ N. Chick, but easier than Suck. Everything on Mullen’s Creek is runnable to the Solid Class V boater. If you choose to portage, the portages are all very easy and require minimal boulder scrambling. Remember Mullen’s is very similar in nature to Suck Creek. It is very manky and can be abusive on gear.
Once you find the put in, it is only a short hike down a very steep 4x4 road. Here you will find the most pristine put in on the Ridge. You have a short class II paddle to warm up. As the gradient picks up look out because the first set of rapids are the largest on the run. After these few rapids the difficulty eases up back to solid IV+. Most of the rapids are read and run boulder garden style rapids. (They are very similar to the rapids on the boulder garden section of Pocket Creek) This first section eventually eases up as you travel down, but don’t let your guard down it will pick back up. The second section is just as quality as the first, but slightly easier with one rapid that is significantly harder than the others in this section. As this section eases, enjoy the beauty of this gorge and the clear water as you paddle the run out to the take out bridge.

Chris McCoy Smooth as Usual

Mullen’s Creek is a must do for the aspiring explorer. It is off the beaten path, and you will see nobody else. It is a very good step up run too, but remember this is not a road side run. Most will probably never do this run, and the few groups that do will probably be one trip and done; but the select few that enjoy the solitude and beauty of wild places, they will return again and again. Mullen’s Creek doesn’t have as quality of rapids or the “Gnarr factor” as many of the other Chattanooga area runs, but it makes up for that with the quality of your surroundings. If you are interested in a full day of fun, manky rapids in a secluded pristine wilderness area, than this run may be for you; or you could always just go do laps on Suck.

The Dog

A dog is bound to find me sooner or later. Sometimes you gotta not look too hard -- just let the

dog find you. - Greg Brown

Sadie "lil bugs" Wallace

Being a kayaker and general lover of the outdoors, I also have a deep rooted love for dogs.  Since my 1st dog which I had for almost 16 years passed, I have been in a state of limbo without my own dog.  Finding myself unusually attached to the dogs of my family and friends.  So the past few years have been a see- saw, back in forth, of whether I needed a dog or not, and if so what kind of dog do I need.

Like always the Holiday Season rolls around and Jessica begins asking what I might want for Christmas.  This always leads to what if I get you a dog?   Which is a conflicted response of "Awesome!" or "Absolutely not."  Every year it seems we pass on the fur ball in a bow for Christmas, justifying it by being too busy.

So the first big rain of the year came roaring through the south east ushering the official start of creeking season.   After an epic first day of kayaking we were all "Jonesin'" for some more action.    Lucky for us almost 11 inches of rain over two days can keep a kayaker busy.  

After a hearty breakfast, we loaded up and headed off to the darker sided of the mountain; where the rivers are dirtier, scarier, and generally  less appealing to the masses.  This suits me just fine.  Riding high on the stoke of an epic the day before and finally getting back to one of my favorite places, a dog was the farthest thing from my mind.  After a couple stops picking up our pre-river fuel and our post -river snacks, we were ready to boat.

As we trudged down the trail and arrived at the put in, we all went through our little pre-river routines; trying to rid ourselves of the usual classV jitters.  While going through my usual routine, I noticed a white, scruffy ball of dirt hunkered down under a bush.   Following the typical logical thought process of what to do when you find a strange possible rabid animal in the woods,  I broke off a piece of my brownie and called for it to come to me.   Reluctantly the little dog accepted my offering and I patted her on the head. Realizing we meant  her no harm, she seemed quited excited at the possibility of three new friends who came for a visit to the perilous gorge she called home.   Tail  wagging, jumping for joy we all patted the little dog and kind of laughed at the thought of this little scruffy gal calling this place home. 

Being the last to push off into the river, I had a little friend trying to join me in my boat.  After several attempts, I finally made it into the water despite the little dogs attempts to get me to stay with her and play.  As I paddled down stream I couldn't help but feel guilty about leaving my little friend there all alone.  After the first couple drops, we were all talking  about the little dog and how cool she was.  To my dismay, I just happened to look up at  rim and there was the little dog happily  following us down stream.  This went on until the the river cliffed out and she couldn't keep up.

With the nature of  the class V rapids on the river, we all  forgot about the dog and focused on the rapids at hand.   On the paddle out we were all riding high on another great day on the river and making plans for tomorrow.   As conversation progressed it eventually made it  back to the dog and how cool it was that she tried to follow us.   As we were riding back to the put in, to get the other truck, I decided that if the little dog is up there, I would  take her home. 

At the put in, we were soon met by our little friend who seemed eager to invite us back down to her home to join her in a playful evening.   Not really wanting to spend my evening out in the cold and looking for trash to eat, I decided to invite her home with me.   Like most dogs, a warm bed and some free food was too much for her to resist and she eagerly loaded up for the trip back to her new home in Chattanooga. After a bath, a trip to the vet, and a hair cut, my new little friend cleaned up quite nice. 

One evening last week, me and my new friend we were enjoying  a Greg Brown album and a winter sunset  on the porch when "Eugene" came on.  Those of you who haven't had the pleasure of enjoying this song, are really missing out on some of the simple truths of life.  A line from the  second verse really put my situation in perspective."A dog is bound to find me sooner or later. Sometimes you gotta not look too hard -- just let the dog find you."  Not a truer statement, has ever been spoken. Seems to me all those years I spent trying to find the perfect dog for me just wasn't going to work out.   She might not be and AKC pure breed champion, but she new right where to find me.

"I rode myself into the ground But hell, it's almost over now I don't see nothing but the light"

-Ben Nichols-

Laying exhausted on the bank we watched the last remnants of twilight fade to black. Sipping our water we were slowly regaining  our conciseness to the real world.   We had put on Pocket Creek with three other boaters making a group of five.  The water was high and the sun was quickly fading to the west. (what little sun there was  on a cloudy, stormy day) There was no time for mistakes, after a swim by one the members of our group it was determined we should start hiking out back to the car.We were only 3 rapids in and we had less than an hour of daylight left.  This decision of hiking out was unacceptable to me. I knew we could make it to the bottom, especially if the group dwindled down to me and Chris; I also knew that hike back to the car was going to be hell. So with little daylight left, Chris and I  hopped in our boats and began our fast paced, high water decent of the gorge.

After the first rapid as a duo we realized the seriousness of our undertaking.  The water was high, the rapids were steep, and there was no margin for error.  I had paddled this run several times, but it was only Chris' second trip.  So it was determined we had no time for scouts, Chris would just follow closely behind me and I would shout directions and hope he heard them.    As we paddled down the creek at race pace, we knew we had one rapid we had to walk.  We quickly found a rhythm and fell into "the zone."  Racing to the portage rapid my arms felt like rubber and my lungs burned.   I was paddling as fast as I possibly could just reacting to the water and the rapids.   There was no thought or decisions; it was flow.  The river became a blur.   Catching the last eddy above the portage, we had maybe five minutes of  daylight and two large rapids left. As we scrambled around the rapid I could tell we were both spent.  We were falling and gasping for air as we portaged.   I just kept saying to Chris, "ONLY TWO MORE!"    It was total tunnel vision for us.  I had pushed my body and mind to the limit, and I knew it had to go a little farther.  We were almost there, we could see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

We quickly climbed back into our boats and slipped on our spray skirts.  We could barely muster the power to peal out from the eddy, how were we going to muster the energy to run the final two V+ rapids.   As I started down stream everything seemed to go from a blur to slow motion.  I could see each individual ripple and wave as I descended the final two rapids.  After successfully descending the final two rapids, we quickly paddled the run out to the trail.

As we sipped our water at the take out we slowly realized what we had done.   We had run a river that usually took about two hours to run in forty-five minutes.  It was high water, hard rapids, and we were pushing the brink of disaster.  We had gone way outside our comfort zones and pushed ourselves to the limits of our paddling abilities. Not since the Middle Kings had I pushed myself to my limits like that.  It felt really good.  Every once in a while I think you need this. Maxing out your ability, stress level, and mental focus; not only allows you to see your actual limits, but it allows you to see the strength you really possess.  Only in pushing yourself to the brink of failure can you get a glimpse of your potential.

Not all Kings Reside In Castles

The Middle Fork of the Kings Expedition has been called the river trip of a lifetime. I find this to be a vast understatement. For myself MFK Expedition was the trip of five life times. Never in my life have I found a river that makes you question what you are made of and forces you to grow on a daily basis, this place does. Every day you run the full gambit of emotions, you are maxed out both mentally and physically, and filled with a since of peace and accomplishment every night; left only to repeat the process again tomorrow. MFK is not the river of tomorrow, it is the river of right now. It requires your total focus and commitment at every moment. Looked at as a whole the expedition is daunting and pushing the realm of possibility, the only way to survive is to give it your all one step at a time on the hike and one stroke at a time one the river.

I can’t tell you what the river is like. Nobody can. All I can say no amount of preparation can fully prepare you for this task. No amount of video, pictures (esp the blurry photos you will find here), write ups will let you know what you are in store for. All I can do is tell you how it was for me.

The most important thing to bring to MFK is your crew. This is not the place to be cavalier or be the man. You must rely wholly on team work. At some point the river is going to give you all you can handle and break you, and your going have to rely on your friends to pull you through. And at some point you are going to have to do the same for them. Thankfully we had that.

Arriving at the South Lake Trail Head you have no idea of the pain you are about to be in as you hike the 13+ miles over a 12000 ft pass into Leconte Canyon with a 100lb Kayak on your back. Waking before dawn we quickly ate breakfast and hit the trail. Both myself and Chris had trained extremely hard for the hike. We thought we should be at the river in 6 to 7 hours. Little did we know 11 hours later we would still be hiking making it to camp right before dark, only to have Mason arrive roughly an hour later. Both mentally and physically spent, I crashed electing to skip dinner to get some much needed rest.

The Crew: Mason Robinson, Chris McCoy, and Matt Wallace before the Hike


Trail early on if it weren't for the beauty of the area the Hike would be unbearable



Chris Making his way up the Pass

Break Before Bishop Pass

Chris and Mason having Lunch at 12000ft


Waking late in the morning after most of the backpackers had left we took our time eating a hearty breakfast and loading our boats. Soon we were joined by Ranger Susie who went over a few back country rules and offered her words of encouragement. The river started off a little low and manky, but that was just perfect for a couple of southern boys. We paddled several miles and ate lunch above a large slide. Little did we know this slide would pale in comparison with what was to come. After lunch we paddled many of the signature drops. Fully in the moment and enjoying the river we seldom stopped to document our run. (This would become a recurring theme) Paddling until we could paddle no more we stopped for camp above one of the steepest gorges and set of drops on the river. Around a roaring fire we recounted our day enjoying our own company and reveling in the solitude the MFK provides to all who pass through her.

The Brink: Probably the Hardest part of the Hike. Less than 2 miles as the crow flys from the river, but you got a long way to drop.

Preparing to actually put on at Camp 1.

Chris Boofing the 1st significant rapid

Mason on Granite

Early Portage

Chris McCoy Money Drop

Matt Wallace finishing the Money Drop

View From Camp 2

The next day started out stout. The first gorge and rapid set was one of the hardest I had ever ran and lead directly into the largest run able slide I had ever seen. Watching Chris grease a few good lines inspired confidence as we rolled into the huge slide. After a quick scout me and Mason decided to give her. All I can say is the few seconds I was on that slide I have never felt so in control while being so out of control. Once again fully in the moment we took only memories. After a short boogie section we found ourselves at the waterfall gorge. With a quick scout Mason and Chris were feeling a bit drained after the stacked section we had just ran. Being both physically and mentally drained they elected to shoulder their boats around the committing gorge and its stout holes. I had dreamed of being in this place for some time. I had ran this gorge in my mind a thousand times punching the stout holes and plunging off the exit falls. Not having my boys in the water with me scared me. I have been boating with Chris for as long as I can remember. He knew I wanted this. As he lifted his boat and began walking to the trail he said, “ You got it.” Immersing myself fully in the moment, I slipped into the water and committed to soloing the waterfall gorge knowing the two guys above me on the trail had my back. After the portage around the Raw Dog Gorge, we ate lunch. We then set out running several good rapids until Simpson Meadows. On this day we covered the most amount of miles and had probably paddled the hardest sections of whitewater any of us had ever run in our life. Finding a perfect camp spot overlooking a nice little gorge we built a fire and enjoyed our diner while being serenaded by the sweet song of the river.

Mason Exiting one Stacked Section

Mason and Chris Taking abreak below the best Slides we ran

Matt Wallace Feeling Small entering in the Water Fall Gorge

Water Fall Gorge those holes are Sticky



Day three on the river was the biggest surprise. Not really knowing what to expect, I vastly underestimated this section. Not the quality of day 2, but let me say these rapids were stout. After a few hours of mad bombing we came to a definite horizon line. With a quick scout we realized we were at the Big Bad Beaver. We all gladly shouldered our boats around it and then enjoyed a nice lunch. After several more miles we reached Tehipte Valley. We decided to push as far as we could stopping right above the Bottom Nine. Being fully exhausted and a little fearful for what was to come we made camp, and everything was a little quieter this night.

Day 3 on the River Mason in Boogie

The Big Bad Beaver

After a large breakfast we entered the river all a little nervous at what lie ahead. The Bottom Nine is everything it was cracked up to be and more. It was relentless, both the rapids and portages were HARD. If you weren’t boofing large holes and catching crux eddies you were crawling through poison oak and falling over boulders. The bottom nine broke us. We started the day thinking we would easily make it through these nine miles to the confluence, but with the unrelenting nature of this section doubt crept in. I was tired and broken, mentally and physically exhausted with nothing left. I looked at Mason and Chris and could see they were defeated too. I knew we had to finish, not because we were out of food or needed off, we had something we had to prove to ourselves. I thought of the times Chris kept me going on the hike and the times Mason pushed on when he was tired. I knew this was my time to carry us through. So I commenced to bombing down boat scouting what I could and hopping out as quickly as I could to scout what I couldn’t see. I knew they would follow me so I just kept going only stopping long enough to make sure they made it through the rapid. As I watch the ridge line on the left slowly descend I knew we were getting close. Leaving it all on the river, I gave it all I had in the hopes that after this last bend we would reach the confluence. I was right. Never in my life had I been so proud. We had done it Middle Kings in 5 days. After some celebration we shouldered our boats up to Yucca Point where Chas was waiting with the truck.

Tehpite Dome

Mason Seal Launching in the Bottom 9

Chris McCoy Bottom 9

You're Never alone on the MFK: A bear looking on in the Bottom 9
The Confluence

Fully beat down and beaming with pride of what we had accomplished, I couldn’t help but feel a little sadness. It was over. The solitude was gone, no more moments only memories. It was back to the real world, work, cell phones, and everyday life. Every day I relive this trip in my mind, constantly daydreaming of what we did. Vividly remembering what we saw and the rapids we ran better than any blurry photo could ever tell. Just waiting for the next time we can fully immerse ourselves on a river.

I can tell you running the Middle Kings won’t make you a bad ass, cool, or the next big thing; but it will force you to grow. It will make you reach down deep and do things you never thought you could. It forges friendships that are thicker than water. You walk away with a new appreciation for truly wild places. You will work harder than you ever have and be given memories that will last longer than a life time. After the poison oak fades, the blisters heals, and the stiffness is gone; you’ll think about doing it again. Knowing deep down you definitely will do it again.