Bad news from Back East. While heavy rains this fall have let lots of paddlers get on good runs, too much water can be a bad thing. And deadly at that. Russ Burrow, an experienced Southeast paddler, drown on North Chickamauga Creek last week after putting on the river alone at flood stage.
Police pulled his kayak and body out of the creek on Saturday morning, after friends reported him missing on Friday because he didn't show up for work. You can read a report on the incident here.
A resident of Chattanooga, Tenn., Burrow was 31, and left behind two children.
The fact that Burrow was paddling alone on extremely high water has set off a barrage of posts on BoaterTalk, the main forum for whitewater paddlers in the East.
While some folks have pointed to this death as an example why kayaking should always be a "team" sport, others have talked about the high water conditions present that day: North Chickamauga, a Class IV run at normal flows, peaked at over 7,500 CFS the day Burrow put on.
To put that in perspective, consider this: a "low" flow on the Grand Canyon is around 8,000 CFS. Today, the North Chick today is running at 763 CFS, and that's after getting a bump from more rain yesterday and today.
On a post on BoaterTalk, Southeast boater Will Pruett, who said the North Chick is his "home" run -- meaning he paddles it often -- said he was scouting the river just before Burrow put on. "The creek was in a full throttle rage mode that I have never seen before."
Pruett said he talked to Burrow before he put on, and other posters to the message board said Burrow was mostly concerned about trees having washed into the river. He scouted the entire length of the run, and after seeing no wood, decided to put on.
I agree and see the perspective of a lot of the paddlers talking about this in the Southeast right now. First, Burrow's death is tragic and sad, regardless of what conditions were when it happened. My thoughts go out to his family, and his two surviving children.
Without preaching, though, river deaths -- as tragic as they are -- always have to be examined.
Just as the National Transportation Safety Board examines airliner crashes to determine if anything went wrong that can be fixed in the future, it's imperative for paddlers to look at how other paddlers drown. It's the only way I know to learn about situations that can kill you without actually "going" there.
While many paddlers enjoy the heightened awareness they feel when paddling solo, I lost my taste for being on the river alone long ago. Safety aside, I enjoy the camaraderie of being out on the river with my bros.
But I also really do look at kayaking as a "team" sport. And the team's number one goal should always be to get everyone to the take out safely. That said, it's up to each individual paddler to make a decision about paddling alone.
Second, the water level on the North Chick that day seems extremely high. As a general rule, I like my rivers on the lower side -- I don't get as scared, and I tend to enjoy myself more. High flowing rivers are strong and swift, and if things start going wrong, they can snowball in a hurry.
This isn't to say that rivers are any "safer" at low flows -- river beds without enough water to push you through a pinch can kill just as easily. But in general, I think lower flows make a run more manageable.
Of course, my views may be due to the fact that my skills -- and lines -- aren't always perfect.
Many of the paddlers on the leading edge of the sport like their flows big -- Scott Lindgren comes to mind -- and others have made careers pushing those limits. I commend and respect them for doing so.
But whenever a kayaker dies, it gives me pause. I think about the risks I take on a routine basis, and the river's universal indifference to the things that get wrapped up in its rush.
Kayaking is supposed to be fun, and the fact that it can also be deadly is troubling. I think about my own family, and the effects my sport has on them -- to this day, I can't show my mom videos or pictures of me kayaking. It just scares her too much.
But I also remember a point in my paddling career, after I started running Class V on a regular basis, when I made a decision that the risks I take are worth the enjoyment -- and the feeling of being alive -- that I get from paddling.
When things like this happen, it's worth taking a moment to reflect on why -- and how -- we paddle. Like I said, I don't want to preach, but if you paddle, these issues are worth thinking about.
Now get out there, and be safe. See you on the river.
