Little River

I said I'd be paddling again, given the chance, and the chance came again a few weeks ago. Most of me was barely recovered from the horrible sunburn the previous time, and my ankles were still raw and scabby, but that just builds character, right?

John and most of his family were planning on paddling out of Rope Mill, down the Little River, into Lake Allatoona, and back. He, Kseniya, and Lauren had boards. Marie just sits on the front of John's board because she's pretty little, and there were 2 pack rafts for Austin and I. I figured the raft couldn't be much more difficult than the board, if at all, so I was in.

Again, I grabbed some chicken sandwiches from the Waffle House on the way out of town, but this time I brought a couple of 32-oz gatorades rather than the 20-oz'ers I'd brought last time. We all met at Rope Mill, punctually, and got everything inflated. I applied sunscreen even more liberally than I had the last time, not wanting a repeat. I even got Austin to hit my back with it so there'd be no question of coverage. Then, we stood in line while the 6 or 8 people ahead of us tried to figure out how to get into the water. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only about 15 minutes, we eventually gave up, walked to the other side of the bridge, and were all in the water within a minute or two. All 6 of us. We couldn't figure out what the other folks were having such trouble with. In retrospect, there's probably some bank-erosion-related reason to use the dock, but it didn't occur to me at the time.

It turns out the pack raft is both easier and harder than the paddle board. You're kind-of lying down in it, so it's pretty comfortable, but it works your abs constantly, so you've got to have decent core strength. It moves much faster on the water, but it really likes to twist. Unlike the paddle board, which I had to learn how to turn, this thing I had to learn how to NOT turn. It's tricky to keep from hitting the sides of it with the paddle, and squeaking constantly, and water drips onto you constantly. I couldn't have cared less, but I can imagine people becoming annoyed with all of this and that eventually leading to paddle boards. I wonder if that's part of their origin story.

At any rate, we paddled north towards the lake, and it was great.

Kseniya wasn't too happy with the quality of the water. IDK, having grown up in Louisiana, it looked as good or better than every body of water I'd ever been in or on. I've seen plenty of clean clear water in North Georgia, but only because it's all very fast moving. I didn't specifically remember what the Chattahoochee looked like, in comparison. I wouldn't have thought about it except that it was mentioned, but also, I have two instances of experience with such things and she has dozens or more. Now I'm curious what good quality, slow-moving water is like.

The original plan was just to paddle out into the lake and turn around, but I mentioned Toonigh falls along the way, and everybody got curious about it. I'd ridden to it on my bike a couple of times, but always in some season that would suck to get into the water during, so it was always deserted. On a day like that day though, there would probably be people, and the water would be great.

I basically knew how to get there, but even if I hadn't, it seemed like that was pretty much where everybody else on the river was going, so we ended up changing plans and heading to the falls instead of out into the lake.

Yep. Popular spot on a day like that.

The falls itself is very ledgy, and though the rocks are pretty slippery, there are plenty of places to stand or sit and hang out.

My favorite part though, was The Cliff of Death. It's probably not actually named "The Cliff of Death" but me and Mark Graham used to call any such cliff that you could jump off of into water "The Cliff of Death". Particularly cliffs at water parks, but real life cliffs too, eg. there was one on the Bogue Chitto River.

Be assured that there were flips.

Front and back flips. No grace though, just ridiculous flips. Like throwing an anvil into the water.

The water was deep enough, but not especially deep. You'd hit the bottom if you didn't jackknife and put your arms out as soon as they went in. I kept opening up too soon though, and got some decent bruises on my triceps and forearms.

John and Kseniya weren't having any of that stupidity, but me and Austin and Marie and Lauren were.

Marie:

Lauren:

I was impressed with how brave and capable they were, though we did have to count down from 5 or 10 sometimes before jumping.

I ate one of my sandwiches and definitely drank more than 40 oz of gatorade, so I was glad I brought the 32-oz bottles. I also reapplied sunscreen a few times as I was fairly certain that hitting the water so violently, repeatedly, and frequently was probably wearing it off.

We hung out there for a satisfyingly long time, though I'm not sure exactly how long, then we headed back.

Back was entirely upstream against the current, but I couldn't have told you that there was any current. It felt the same as heading downstream.

Getting out was a little challenging. The weird dock is supposed to make it easier, but I think it only makes it easier for kayaks. That may have been the problem that all those folks were having putting in.

Kseniya had to be somewhere urgently, so when I looked up, John was driving away, and it was just me and Austin in the lot. I'd brought my bike just in case I felt like riding, but I definitely did not feel like riding. Instead, we were both pretty hungry, so we ran by one of Austin's favorite spots in Woodstock called Cylantros. It's a Venezuelan restaurant in the corner of a gas station, as all awesome Central and South American restaurants seem to be. They were like "Hey Austin" when he walked in. Ha ha! I had various tacos. All were delicious, but the shrimp taco was the best. I'm definitely eating there again.

Woohoo, two successful paddling adventures in one summer. Let's do it again!