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Rafting West Virginia's New River

Is this any way to spend a vacation?

by Kelly Monaghan

There I was, standing around in my shorts with a bunch of people, nervously fiddling with my helmet, while a burly man with a booming voice outlined in colorful terms the many ways I could come to grief if I didn't handle my equipment properly.  Then the whole lot of us were bundled aboard a bus for a bumpy ride into the unknown with our gear piled in our laps.  Didn't I go through all this in basic training? Didn't I hate every minute of it?

This wasn't some sixties flashback, however, and I wasn't about to be sent 15,000 miles to battle godless, atheistic communism with the flower of America's youth. Instead I was preparing to descend 1,500 feet into the spectacularly verdant New River Gorge in southern West Virginia to battle the river wild with a ragtag bunch of happy hedonists and fellow thrill seekers in a flotilla of rubber boats.

It's called whitewater rafting and the guy with the big voice was John Galey, our guide and a real teddy bear it turned out, despite his command-ing appearance. For the next eight hours or so John would lead some forty people in six rafts down the churning waters of the New River in search of fun, frolic, and perhaps just a bit of self-discovery.

Maybe the moment brought back military memories because I was just the slightest bit apprehensive about the adventure on which I was embarked. My wife had expressed some trepidation about bouncing down a raging river in a rubber boat, which only reinforced my niggling doubts about the wisdom of subjecting my mature and ample frame to the rigors of what surely must be a young person's sport.

I needn't have worried. Class VI River Runners, the local outfitter operating our expedition, works with military precision and obsessive attention to detail, but the accent is clearly on fun. Whitewater rafting, I quickly discovered, may have its share of buffed up triathlete participants but it's accessible to any reasonably mobile individual, especially when experienced under the watchful eye of professional guides.

The bus deposited us at a pinprick on the map called Cunard, hard by the banks of the New. The New is believed to be the oldest river in North America, perhaps the oldest in the world. Its other major claim to fame is that it is the only eastern river that flows west. The origins of its paradoxical name are the subject of some scholarly debate, but the version I was told has it that when it was discovered by colonial surveyors, all of Tidewater Virginia was abuzz with talk of the "new" river that flowed westward. The name stuck.

At Cunard we were assigned our boats and, in another military maneuver, portaged them down a steep set of stairs and into the river. Here the river was placid and gentle, giving no hint of the thrills that lay ahead. John took advantage of the lull to demonstrate the preferred method of using your legs to wedge yourself into the boat, thus decreasing your chances of being ejected in a rapid. He also explained the basic commands we would be expected to follow as he brought us through the torrents below unscathed. On the command of "easy all forward" we would dip our paddles into the stream in unison. Only slightly more complicated were commands like "forward left, back right," which required you to remember on which side of the raft you were seated. This seemed simple enough until white water was boiling all around you, at which point left and right tended to get a might confused. Fortunately, the most frequent command was "take a break" when the paddlers willingly turned the raft's fate over to the force of the rushing current and John's expert steering.

A Vanished Past

The New River Gorge presents itself to the first-time visitor as an unspoiled and pristine wilderness. It was surprising, then, to discover from John that not too long ago the gorge hummed with life, in fact it was something of an industrial eyesore.

During a hundred-year period that only ended after World War II, some 20,000 people called the gorge home, lured here by the railroad (which remains) and the high quality coal (which doesn't). In fact, the now-vanished hamlet of Cunard was named after the steamship company, which owned the town and a nearby mine and prized its "smokeless" metallurgical grade coal as a fuel that would keep the finery of its upscale passengers soot-free.

A short paddle away was Thurmond, a boom town that boasted the sumptuous Dunglen Hotel, site of the world's longest continually running poker game. Henry Ford himself sat in on the game when he visited the gorge to oversee the adjacent coke ovens that provided fuel for his Michigan plants and the silica operations that produced windshields for his Model T's.

Isolated as they were, the towns of the gorge were a society unto themselves. It was a time of robber baron capitalism when the mines owned the towns and hard-driven mineworkers almost literally owed their souls to the company store. The owners exported wealth and gave almost nothing in return. Mother Jones passed through to organize worker resistance. There were strikes and riots and West Virginia is still coping with the social fallout. Many years later, Thurmond served as the backdrop for John Sayles' film Matewan, a searing chronicle of the era's labor unrest.

There was a wild west flavor to the place. Company-owned law enforcement operated much like the petty warlords of an earlier era. Those who opposed the power elite often turned up dead, their murders never solved, and corruption ran rampant. Prohibition, it is said, never really happened in the wide-open gorge, where whorehouses and saloons co-existed with gaudy mansions.

It's all gone now, except for the fading photographs in local museums and the crumbling coke ovens and stone house foundations which have almost completely disappeared in the resurgent forest of sycamore, birch, maple, and box elder. The gorge, that was completely uninhabited for millennia before the sixty-year coal boom, is uninhabited once again. Its last resident, a crazy old woman who hurled voodoo curses at passing rafters, died in the eighties. Today it is part of the New Gorge National River, looked over and protected by the National Park Service for the enjoyment of hikers, fishermen and, above all, whitewater rafters.

Rapid Transit

Rapids are classified as Class I through Class VI (from which Class VI River Runners, takes its name). The higher the number, the "better" or more difficult the rapid. Most of the rapids on this section of the New, the "Lower New," are fairly mild affairs, but there are some Class III and IV rapids that set the pulse pounding and provide plenty of thrills. Our trip produced lots of whoops and shrieks of mingled terror and delight as our raft bounced and bucked its way through the rocky water.

Rapids, I came to realize, are deceptive things. Looking forward, they are barely visible. Looking back, they appear deceptively tame. But when you're in their grip, they are as exciting as any roller coaster. The difference is, of course, that in a rapid your oarsmanship and the skill of the guide doing the steering make the difference between thrills and spills. Rapids are filled with deep troughs followed by steep waves. When a boat dips into one of these the force can literally catapult those in the back of the boat out the front. Our trip produced only one "involuntary swimmer," from another boat. Our crew held its own and, a few near ejections aside, stayed firmly in place during the whole trip.

Of course, staying in the raft doesn't mean staying dry. This is wet work. And under the hot summer sun, it can be hot work as well. That's why the guides thoughtfully build in "voluntary swims" along the route. This is your chance to lie back and survey the natural beauty that surrounds you. The life jackets are designed to hold the head of an unconscious person out of the water and they make a comfortable "pillow" as you float along at one with nature and at peace with the world.

As if to show us that an involuntary swim might not be the worst thing in the world, John let those who wished surf through one rapid on their own. I followed John's shouted directions as the current swept me between huge boulders into what must surely be a rocky dead end, only to be whisked by the current through a narrow gap to calm water.

Along the same lines was a stop at the "Halls of Karma." Here you can stand on a low-lying rock and leap into a whirlpool formed by a small rapid. If you hit it just right, the water will take you down, spin you around several times, and pop you up downstream some ten seconds later.

This was a dinner trip so in the late afternoon our expedition put into one of the broad sandy beaches that dot the shore. Whitewater rafting has always been a fairly funky activity and most of its adherents are content with baloney sandwiches to sustain them on longer trips. That's still pretty standard fare with many rafting outfitters. Thankfully, Class VI has seen fit to differentiate itself with Grade A food.

Our guides set up a folding table and laid out a spread that would put some hotel buffets to shame. Piping hot stuffed chicken breasts with crisp snap peas, sautéed squash, and buttery new potatoes was accompanied by an impeccably fresh mesclun salad bar and warm garlic bread. Dessert was a sort of chocolate cake in Tupperware, loaded with creamy frosting. Amazingly, all this had come down the river with us on the rafts. All that was missing was a glass of Chablis, but since alcohol is strictly verboten on the river we made do with ice cold water and lemonade mix.

Back on the river we shot through more rapids and got an object lesson in the risks of river rafting. Another outfitter's boat had entered a rapid sideways and water had rushed over the sides, completely swamping the craft and pinning it under the rushing torrent. The rafters had scrambled to safety atop an adjacent boulder and sat there looking slightly bedraggled as their guides tried to figure out how to extricate themselves from this predicament. Following the unwritten code of the river, John offered his competitor assistance and (following the very same code, I suspect) the other guide graciously declined the offer.

Towards the end of our journey, we passed under the New River Gorge Bridge, the world's longest single-arch steel bridge. At 876 feet above the river, it is second in height only to the Royal Gorge Bridge in Colorado. From a fourteen-foot rubber raft it is just a tiny ribbon of steel high overhead.

Shortly beyond the bridge, we paused at the unimaginatively named "Jump Rock" where the heartier among us climbed to the top and took a fifteen-foot leap into the waters below. It was getting dark by now and the shadows magnified the height. More than a few of us hesitated before leaping into the evening gloom for one last cooling plunge into the New.

It was pitch black when we left the river, nearly eight hours after we had started. We were tired and bedraggled and wonderfully happy. Soft drinks and cold beer revived us on the hair-raising bus ride to the canyon rim along a narrow road with precipitous drops. When the driver had to back up several times to negotiate one hairpin turn, conversation dropped to a whisper. It was no wonder he got an ovation when we arrived safely back at base camp. There, in Class VI's well-appointed dressing rooms, we could take a hot shower and change into dry clothes.

Like all true adventurers those of us who had rafted the Lower New wanted nothing more than to gather in a bar and swap tales of our derring-do. So we repaired to Chetty's Depot, a cozy bar at the base camp, to do just that. The room is rustic-modern and hung with battered kayaks and photos of previous trips with celebrity rafters. It makes a great setting in which to reminisce with new-found friends.  (That's our guide John on the left.)

The highlight of this post-mortem was the screening of a video shot during the trip. Here our exploits were immortalized for the ages in a documentary that was surprisingly slick for the conditions under which it was shot and the short amount of time in which it was put together for viewing. The video, along with still photos of us shooting the more thrilling rapids, could be purchased and taken home to amaze and delight friends and family. Finally, we said our goodbyes and stumbled out into the star-studded West Virginia night looking forward to a long, sound sleep.

Doin' the Butt-Scoot Boogie

The next day, we were ready for a change of pace, so we tackled a day trip on the Upper New, starting off at Thurmond and ending at Cunard, the starting point of our first adventure. The rapids on this section of the river were much milder, with only one Class III along the way. Yet they were just as challenging in their own right because we tackled them not in massive fourteen-foot rafts but in fragile one- or two-person inflatable kayaks, known as duckies. And your guide doesn't do the steering for you; you're on your own.

In a ducky, you are much closer to the action and much closer to the water and, hence, the river bottom. That means that when traversing the lesser rapids, there's a chance of getting stuck on top of a flat rock. It's an awkward feeling to be sitting stock still as water bubbles past you. That's where the "butt-scoot boogie" comes in. Our guide, Charlie Friddell, a native West Virginian with a mountain twang, showed us how to wriggle out of such a predicament by hopping ahead on your tush until you get enough water flowing under the duck to float yourself free. Despite challenges like that, this trip is positively serene compared to the Lower New. It's even possible to opt to take the journey in the fourteen-foot support raft that carries the supplies.

The big thrill of the day came at the Class III Surprise Rapids. Here, when the water's high, almost everyone becomes an involuntary swimmer. Even at lower water levels, it takes some strong paddling and a fair bit of luck for the novice to maintain an even keel. I would brag about how well I navigated Surprise if accuracy didn't compel me to report that the water level was pretty low the day I took the trip.

There are the usual opportunities to roll out of your ducky voluntarily and drift along with the slow moving current, and there is even a version of Jump Rock for the younger and more adventuresome. But, for me, the real treat of the day happened at lunch.

Charlie led us into the woods where, barely ten yards from the beach and totally invisible from the water, lay the ruins of a bank of coke ovens and an old railroad siding. Just past them and now completely undetectable in the forest had been a town.

The Mary Draper Ingles hiking trail runs through here, named after one of the first Europeans to experience the New River Gorge, albeit under less than ideal circumstances. Charlie explained that Mary was a Virginia colonist captured during a Shawnee Indian raid in 1755 along with her two sons. They were marched all the way to present-day Ohio through the gorge and on the journey Mary gave birth to a daughter. Years later, she escaped with another woman captive. Leaving her children behind, she retraced her steps through the gorge reaching Virginia in 42 days, alive but just barely. It was the kind of tale of wilderness adventure custom made to fire the imagination of a boy scout. Fortunately, there was a troop of them along on the trip to hear it.

After yesterday's sumptuous dinner, lunch seemed rather modest -- a deli-sandwich bar with potato and pasta salads and puddings for dessert. But this trip attracts a fair number of youngsters and more elaborate fare might be lost on them. In fact, peanut butter and jelly was on offer and I availed myself of the opportunity. I can't honestly say I felt too deprived because we had bracketed the trip with two superb buffets back at Smokey's, the restaurant at the base camp.

We began the morning with an extensive breakfast featuring everything from waffles and pancakes to scrambled eggs with spicy country sausage. For a real country experience, there was peppery sausage-studded gravy over flaky biscuits. Or you could betray your urban roots by choosing a bagel with a schmeer. There was even fresh fruit and cereal for those who insisted on being healthy.

After the trip, you could satisfy the inner rafter with Smokey's dinner buffet. Ours featured perfectly roasted carved-to-order turkey with a wonderfully sage-y dressing along with pole beans. There were also beef tips on pasta and salmon with a pesto sauce, along with an extensive salad bar. Wine is available by the glass and West Virginia microbrews are also served. The food at Smokey's is very, very good and if you are in the vicinity and have no interest whatsoever in whitewater rafting this is still an excellent choice for dinner.

Smokey's itself is worth a visit just to admire the wood frame construction. The dining room is a large pavilion that opens on three sides to the woods along the edge of the canyon rim. The ceiling soars overhead much in the manner of an Amish barn. The whole place is constructed from locally felled oak, milled on the spot and painstakingly assembled using mortise and tenon techniques; there's not a nail in the place. There's plenty of outdoor seating and an overlook with breathtaking views of the gorge and the bridge is a short walk away. All in all, a most delightful setting for a fine meal.

Pure Screaming Hell

After you've gotten your feet wet, so to speak, on the Upper and Lower New, you might want to tackle Class VI's adventures on the nearby Gauley River. The Gauley is justifiably famous among whitewater enthusiasts. Of its hundred or so rapids, fifty-six of them are rated Class III to Class V, plus. The colorful names the various rapids have acquired pretty much tell the story: Lost Paddle, Sweets Falls, Upper Mash, Heaven Help You, Roller Coaster, and Pure Screaming Hell.

The rafting section of the Gauley sits below Summerville Lake and the Dam that formed it, but if a dammed river sounds like a tame river, there's a surprise in store. Periodically, the Summerville Dam releases millions of gallons into the Gauley. They shoot out in massive streams that resemble nothing so much as a giant's water hose. Class VI puts in just below the dam for some of its Gauley trips and expressly schedules trips for days when water is being released.

The result is some of the hairiest rafting available in the East, or anywhere else for that matter. As their catalog dryly notes, "this is no place to find out you are afraid of big rapids and big whitewater."

A Class VI Operation

I had an opportunity to sit down later with Dave Arnold, one of the founders of Class VI, and learn something of its history. At 45, Dave is one of the "old men" of the rafting industry. He and two partners, Doug and Jeff Proctor, founded Class VI in 1978, operating out of a battered 1954-vintage house trailer and a couple of tents. A photo that documents these humble beginnings hangs in the office and you can tell that rafting technology has come a long way, as has Class VI.

In the beginning, all rafting outfitters were pretty much the same, a bunch of young guys (today you see some female guides) with a fierce devotion to their sport but a casual attitude towards business. The result was a series of bare-bones operations that were pretty much indistinguishable from one another. Class VI has changed all that. Today, Class VI is a sophisticated travel supplier that I couldn't help thinking operated a lot like a well-run cruise line.

For starters, the physical plant is impressive; they've come a long way from that trailer. The overall look is casual and rustic but the details are telling. The changing rooms are roomy and comfortable with steaming hot showers and blow dryers; the safety gear is new, colorful, and well-maintained; optional gear like wetsuits is available for rental at reasonable rates; the public buildings are spacious, well-designed, and well-appointed. As mentioned earlier, Smokey's is something of an attraction in its own right. Like a good cruise line, Class VI boasts an excellent staff-to-rafter ratio and people have obviously been hired and trained with an eye to customer service. No one here is a supernumerary. Every staff member I encountered was ready with a big smile, a friendly greeting, and a helping hand. Most of them are locals and they bring an easy-going backcountry charm to their work. Very quickly the visitor begins to feel part of the Class VI family.

Another thing that strikes you about the staff is the maturity of the guides. Many of them are seasoned veterans of the river and gray beards at the helm are a common site. "There's an energy that comes with youth," Dave notes, "but there's a depth of experience that only comes from years of running the river and getting to know its many secrets."

Behind the easygoing facade is a technologically savvy infrastructure. While many rafting outfitters still accept only cash or checks, Class VI's reservations department is as up-to-date as any airline, letting you book and pay with plastic right on the phone. Their computers spit out Confirmation Sheets with all the information you need to prepare for your rafting adventure. In another industry innovation, they market their extensive product line through travel agents, making it easier for would-be rafters to find them and get access to information about this ever more popular outdoor activity.

Not too long ago, a whitewater rafting excursion was something you might do to fill an afternoon when you found yourself in a location that offered it. Dave and his partners saw the potential to make the whitewater experience the main reason for a trip. Class VI offers full-day trips as well as two- and three-day camping excursions. All told, they offer some 25 different experiences. Throughout the season, they stage special events like "Women in the Wild" or the "Appalachian Cook-Off." Many of their customers spend several days sampling the different trips Class VI offers, and many of them have learned that no two trips are the same. I was surprised at the number of repeat rafters on the trips we took; they regaled us with still-fresh memories of the last time they rafted this same stretch of
water years ago.

Class VI even has its version of "shore excursions." They will hook you up with other local outfitters for llama treks or horseback rides through the spectacular West Virginia countryside; mountain biking, fishing, kayaking clinics, and rock climbing are also available. In fact, whitewater rafting with Class VI can be the nucleus of a very enjoyable one- or two-week activity-filled vacation in southern West Virginia. The local area offers numerous hiking trails, well-appointed state parks, museums and, in the summer months, evening entertainment. The only thing missing from the cruise line analogy is accommodations, but the reservations staff will help you book into a modern motel or one of the growing number of charm-filled local B&Bs.

Class VI places special emphasis on safety and preparedness, hence the thorough pre-trip briefing on helmets, life jackets, the physics of fast moving water, and "aggressive self-rescue." At first I thought it was another reflection of our lawyer-flavored society and, in fact, much of this is mandated by law and sage legal advice. But I also came to recognize the deep and abiding love and respect that every member of the staff holds for the river that provides them both their livelihood and lifestyle and the professionalism that comes only from experience and pride.

With its emphasis on fine food and its high level of customer service, Class VI is a premium product, yet its rates are surprisingly competitive with other area outfitters. Per-person prices range from $80 for weekday daytrips to about $300 for multi-day camping trips. The more popular whitewater rafting trips range between about $115 and $240.

Class VI operates from April through October (although they are planning a New Year's rafting and camping trip to usher in the new millennium!). They publish a colorful and informative catalog listing all their trips. You can request a copy by calling 1-800-252-7784. You can write them at P.O. Box 78, Lansing, WV 25862. The reservations staff will help guide you in choosing just the right trip or trips for you and your family and offer plenty of tips on how to enjoy your West Virginia vacation.

Internet Resources

Class VI River Runners. A terrific site that gives you all the information you need to launch your own whitewater adventure.

Riversearch. Articles and tips on whitewater rafting and links to outfitters in the United States, Canada, and Central America.

Visit Southern West Virginia. Loads of information about the area around Class VI. Lodging, activities, entertainment, and more.

New River Convention and Visitors Bureau. More information on Fayette County, home of Class VI.

Babcock State Park. A gorgeous park with fishing, boating, swimming, camping, hiking, and cabins for rent.

Hawks Nest State Park. Very near Class VI, with a modern lodge overlooking the New River Gorge.

New River Gorge. A homegrown effort with fun facts about the gorge and even recipes.

Tamarack. A world-famous outlet for high-end West Virginia crafts, about 20 miles south of Class VI.

Photo Credits: Class VI River Runners

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