1997
Moodna Creek
by Gidon Schwarcz
Let me start by admonishing you, dear reader, not to imitate the behavior described in this article. It was most probably a temporary loss of sanity brought on by unique climatic conditions (e.g.. heavy rain following a prolonged drought).
I just couldn't fall asleep. The rain was pounding on the roof, and my adrenaline was pumping away. The only problem was that I had a very important 10 am commitment. I looked at the clock -- 4 am. Hey, with a bit of precision and luck I could get to the nearest river, paddle, and be home in time. To heck with sleep.
As I loaded my boat in the pitch blackness, it hit me that sneaking liquor, drinking alone, and drinking before breakfast were all signs of alcoholism. Perhaps, by extension, my sneaking off alone to paddle before breakfast could be a tell-tale sign of aquaholism. I quickly ate two chocolate bars. At least no one would be able to accuse me of paddling before breakfast. I was reassured.
Lower Moodna Creek, 30 minutes north, is the closest good run to my house. I stashed my boat in the woods at the put-in, left my car at the take-out, and jogged the half hour back. The weather had changed, with a windy, chilling cold snap following the rain which had just ended. The put-in was still pitch black, I could hear the rapids under the bridge but I couldn't even see how much water was in the creek. I dragged my boat blindly down the hill towards the sound of the rapids and put in at a tiny eddy.
This section of the Moodna begins with a lengthy Class III continuous rapid that is not best run alone and in the dark, especially because it empties into a nasty Class IV+ rapid. I never claimed good sense, and my friends estimations of my judgment are even less charitable. But I did have the wherewithal not to begin the trip in the dark. Instead, I located a nice wave and surfed it for half an hour until dawn broke.
Sitting on the wave, I was struck with the intense romantic beauty of greeting the day on the river. The water is at first just shadows and flowing noises in the blackness. Then it attains a thick, almost solid appearance in the grayness of early dawn. It only later changes to a flowing character as the first slanting rays of sunlight appear. The absolute silence of the world except for the music of the rapids was breathtaking.
When I could just begin to make out the waves and holes, I started down. Not the best vision, but I had a schedule to hold to. The flow was lower than I had hoped for, much of the run-off having undoubtedly just absorbed into the parched ground. But it was enough, and it gave the Moodna a nasty steep creek-like flavor, with tight slalom moves around numerous boulders.
Soon I was face-to-face with the biggie on this river, the Pylon Rapids. A long series of offset holes and ledges ends up at the pylons of a broken down bridge. Half the water sluices right to an undercut, half goes left to a keeper hole, and a thin twisting flume pillows off the center pylon. I negotiated around the holes and pulled into the mandatory right eddy. Then I peeled out, cut quickly left just below the wave guarding the entrance, spun back onto the pillow and boofed off the pylon, catching the twisting thread of current that keeps you out of the keeper. Good run. Another day I might have carried up and run it again. Not today! Alone and in the dim light, I was content squirting in the strong eddylines below.
The river suddenly becomes tranquil for a short stretch. The stillness of the early morning and the pastel orange and red of the October foliage gave an incredible feeling of contentment and oneness with the world. Two great blue herons flew off in the distance.
After a dam, the creek resumes its rapid run downstream. I stopped at "tom ganun" rock for squirting, as the level was too low to do pop-ups. After half an hour of showing off for the sycamore and maple trees lining the banks, I continued downstream. The last few sets of rapids are delightful boulder gardens with a classic slalom nature. The takeout came all too soon.
An hour later I was home. My wife and kids were still sleeping and didn't even know I had gone, and I was back with time to spare. They did wonder why I kept falling asleep at dinner that evening, but I didn't tell them. They probably wouldn't have believed it anyway.
