1. Whitewater - Close to Home!, Author: Jerry McAward
2. My Metaphorical River, Author: Sarah Branigan

The Lehigh River Gorge is a magical place. If you've never been here, you are missing out of one of the local wonders of nature. Home to all kinds of outdoor sports like mountain biking, hiking, and trout fishing, the Lehigh River is possibly most famous for its 25 miles of pristine whitewater. In previous years the Lehigh has had great whitewater only in the cooler months of the year like March, April, May, June, and several days in the fall. Things have changed for the better - and the warmer!

The rumors are true - warm weather whitewater lies less than 90 miles from the heart of Philadelphia - straight up 476. We're talkin' REAL whitewater, outdoors thrills and breathtaking scenery during the summer months of June, July, August, and September. We know what you're thinking, but you can't drive your cool SUV on the roads along the Lehigh Gorge - none exist - so you have to get with Mother Nature and paddle through it! The surrounding mountains and walls of the Lehigh Gorge rise up to 900 feet over your head. This provides for jaw-dropping views of nature, complete with waterfalls, hawks, great blue herons, and the occasional bald eagle.

Thanks to a landmark program by the US Army Corps of Engineers, you can experience the splendor and excitement of Class 2 and 3 rapids all summer long. The Army Corps, in cooperation with the Department of Conservation and Natural Resources (DCNR), the Delaware River Basin Commission (DRBC) and the PA Fish and Boat Commission, agreed to manage the resource of the river to enhance recreational opportunities as well as significantly improve the water quality of the river. As the water quality improves so does the fishery - there is some top-notch fishing going on here!

Telling the tale of how there is now whitewater in the summer on the Lehigh is a long one. In a nutshell, the Army Corps is holding a higher pool level behind the dam - 65 feet higher, in fact, than usual. This enables the release of water to enhance recreational uses such as kayaking, canoeing, and whitewater rafting. The extra water also holds down the temperature of the water throughout the summer, and this coupled with the higher flows really make a difference in water quality. A lot of smart people from the public and private sector contributed to the debate of how to best use the river, and the result is nothing short of amazing.

The "water releases" as they are called add to naturally occurring flows to offer higher water levels in the heat of the summer. On Water Release weekends (every two weeks all summer long) water is released from the dam for 12 hours starting at midnight Friday night. The same happens on Saturday night. The result is concentrated flows during the daylight hours.

Starting below the Francis E. Walter Dam in White Haven, the river enters Lehigh Gorge State Park, and continues within the confines of the park to just upstream of Jim Thorpe. There are two sections of river, the Upper Lehigh and the Lehigh Gorge, referred to by local paddlers as Sections 1 and 2. Downstream of Jim Thorpe to Bowmanstown is called Section 3 - this is an easier stretch of river, perfect for summertime family fun, novice kayakers and canoeists, and learning how to paddle rivers.

Here is a description of the highlights of each section that you'll enjoy when you paddle the Lehigh River!

Section 1 - 10 miles long - Immediately blast through Initiation Rapid. Soon you will be floating peacefully before the next thrill. Tannery Rapid is next, followed quickly by the always-exciting Triple Drop. You'll go through Z, then wonder where the heck to go in the famous No-Way Rapid, the Ledges, Larry, Curly, Moe, and Mud Run. Soon you're at Rockport and the Take-Out for the Section 1. This slightly shorter run features the easier shuttle back and forth and the shorter time required makes it a favorite for club paddlers.

Section 2 - 13 miles long - Start at Rockport and in one minute you're in Entrance Rapid - you're paddling hard and laughing yourhead off right away in the big waves here. Bounce around Pinball Rock, and then thread the Eye of the Needle. Shoot past Drakes Creek and Dragon Lady Rock (one rafting company puts in here) and in a few minutes you paddle through White Falls, then Mile-Long Rapid. Hold your breath for the ride through Bridal Veil. Sneak past Flipper Rock and choose the left or right in Double Barrel. The easy way through Hurry Right is obvious, but the left side is crazy fun. The well-known Pipeline Rapid starts with an up-close and personal scrape with 45-Minute Rock, then you crash through the big waves below into Boulder Garden, Sea of Rocks, and the finale - Snaggletooth. This stretch is known for longer rapids and the taller walls of the Lehigh Gorge.

Section 3 - 8 miles long - Start at the Train Station in Jim Thorpe (or for an extra two miles start at the Glen Onoko access in Lehigh Gorge State Park) and run through the easier whitewater of this stretch. There is a nice rapid called Deaton's Demise right below Glen Onoko, and then you'll float into the town of Jim Thorpe. For those starting here, the first rapid is right around the bend. Great practices sites abound making this part of the river the place where many people learn to kayak and maybe get their first taste of whitewater. This river run ends with a rapid known as Bowmanstown Rapid. Several groups have their own name for this, but the kayak schools call it Final Exam. One local funny guy calls this "The Cascade of Imminent Death"... a tongue-in-cheek exaggeration of a great beginner rapid.

Between Whitehaven and Jim Thorpe there are a number of hotels, restaurants, diners, B&B's, Guest Houses, and campgrounds. All of these businesses are well-used to the kayaks and canoes on the cars in their parking lots. The town of Jim Thorpe is filled with very cool, unique shops that will keep you coming back for more.

You'll find the local rafting companies to be well-organized, well-trained, and a fun bunch with whom to spend the day. Kayak schools are available, too. Local paddling clubs like the Philadelphia Canoe Club, Lehigh Valley Whitewater, and the Lehigh Valley Canoe Club offer a great list of trips with fellow paddlers and the social benefits of paddling with other outdoorsy people. For the fishermen with an eye for adventure, you can ride a bike anywhere, get away from it all, and fish with nobody in sight. If you like to get the big fish, check out one of the fine people who run drift-boat fishing trips along the Lehigh River from Glen Onoko to Walnutport. If you're into staying dry, rent a bike, bring a bike, or hike through the Lehigh Gorge.

So get out of the city life this spring and summer and get up to the Lehigh Gorge area. There is a ton of things to do, all involving fresh-air, sunshine, and beautiful river scenery.

For more information on water releases you can contact any of the professional outfitters listed below, or you can read it for yourself on the US Army Corps website page
http://www.nap.usace.army.mil/Projects/FEWalter/walter2007plan.pdf.

My recent introduction to whitewater paddling happened at what could be deemed an appropriate time of my life. I'm 27. This past year I began yet another new job, moved to yet another new town in another new state and generally felt that my life was moving me along without my consent, against my will, and all too swiftly. Most close friends and family members prefer to point out that I am, in fact, the only one responsible for continuously jumping into the metaphorical deep end. Nevertheless, over the past year there have been months at a time when I've wished my daily life resembled something more like a parking lot rather than a free-flowing river.

The thing about being caught in a current is that, if you don't know how to maneuver yourself in it, you will constantly feel that you are struggling, fighting and failing to make what you want to happen a reality and you may even spend the entire time frightened and unsure.

This is a story of metaphors.

Three weeks after I began this aforementioned new life, I took a paddling trip with an old friend (now a best friend) from my new town. We went to Lehighton, Pennsylvania, where we planned to spend the weekend on the Lehigh River with my mom's cousin Jerry, who runs Northeast Pennsylvania Kayak School. I had spent some time during the year prior on the Haw River in the Piedmont of North Carolina, sitting in the front of a canoe, paddling when I was told to and secretly craving the autonomy of a kayak. Moving to a city with a whitewater river as its transverse seemed like a good-enough reason to pursue this felt need for independence in boating. Plus, my cousin owns a kayak school-it's a no-brainer.

The autumn is my favorite time of the year-again, a metaphor for all things beginning and ending-and the drive through the mid-Atlantic was nice, relaxing and beautiful. That is, until we woke up this early October Saturday morning and the temperature read 45 degrees and it was overcast and drizzling. Crap.

Not exactly ideal conditions for a first-timer to get the basic instruction on rolling and paddling in a squirrely, little playboat, but honestly, I'm smart enough to know there's not a lot of room for high maintenance women in paddling. Jerry greeted us with enthusiasm and plenty of warm gear and we set off in our wetsuits, fleece layers, drytops and gloves for kayak school on the lake.

This spring, I attended an institute on teaching and learning at my university, and as participants we were asked to think of and describe a significant learning experience. I wrote about this first day on the river and learning to roll my kayak. In order to learn something new and remember it for a long time, it must make deep connections within the brain. There are certain factors that aid in making this learning deep and significant. This day was certainly unforgettable. We were freezing. A close family member, who I literally trust with my life, and who was and is thrilled to have another boater in the family, acted as my teacher. I spent the day learning next to and from a best friend, who is also a woman. Most of my paddling or other "outdoorsy" experiences have happened because of a boyfriend and through his guidance. All of these contributing factors created an emotional response to the very act of kayaking. It was a shared experience with friends and family set amidst stressful weather and physical conditions. It's the "I worked too hard to give up now" mentality that still, months later, keeps me goal oriented with regards to my kayaking.

This trip also caused me to experience an overwhelming sense of sovereignty over my own life as a (freshly single) woman and freedom from the need for permission from men.

Rolling a kayak is essentially learning to save your own skin; self-preservation in its most basic form. Something bad happens; you correct it and move on. The better you get at correcting, the more you let the river take you, the more you can belong to it.

Fear and trepidation have prevented my full belonging to any river as of yet. I'm getting there though. It's a process.

I got my roll that first day, and I'm told that it's a pretty one. We went home from the lake, shivering, to bowls of chili and cornbread, jalapeno poppers and plenty of India Pale Ale. We played guitar then eventually fell asleep completely worn. The next morning, it was sunny so we got right on the river. Well, needless to say, I flipped in whitewater, attempted a combat roll, failed the combat roll, pulled my skirt. I was OK. There were rescuers. But I found out the hard way; a roll on flatwater just ain't the same as one in the rapids.

I've realized that whitewater kayakers tend to be a little bit different than most folk. What sort of people choose danger over safety? What kind of people strap themselves into tiny little boats that flip over easily, where there could be hidden rocks waiting to gouge an eye or slam into a shoulder? Do these people have a few too many loose screws? Am I becoming one of these people?

Now back to the metaphor: This year, in my actual life, there have undeniably been hidden rocks and the need for a solid combat roll. But, I hadn't practiced enough, not for what came my way. I wasn't ready or prepared or willing to accept the consequences of choosing a whitewater way of living. So I pulled my skirt. Several times.

Thankfully, there were rescuers.

This year I have experienced unending self-questioning. Why am I continuing to choose the whitewater over the still waters or an even more secure and reliable place, like shore? What is it about the hidden dangers that I am drawn to? Why can't I just be like normal girls and go shopping and read magazines about celebrity gossip?

Even if I wanted to be a "normal" girl, it would never happen. I have never been and never will be content in a flatwater life. I think that is why I am drawn to the river and to river folk. They share this mentality of wanting perpetual motion toward something bigger, toward the sea perhaps. Living near a river, it's hard to ignore the call it sends out (that darn river). "Come on Girl," it says. "Jump on in" (my river has a southern accent). Truth is, I don't want the river to leave me alone.

Learning a river is a lot like starting a new relationship. No wonder I get so frightened about the possible outcomes of paddling these waters; I fear the painful and sometimes disastrous consequences I have experienced in the other realm.

Good news is, the river will always be there and has always been there. And I'm learning to love it. More importantly, I'm learning to love myself when I'm a part of it. It isn't constant in the way some would want, but it is constantly flowing. The level changes, the shape changes, the look and feel changes as it moves along, as water rains in or evaporates out.

When I'm on the river, if I need to rest, there will be an eddy. If I lose my ability to roll my boat, there are flat places to practice, and practice and practice. As it turns out, the preparation is what was missing from my year. We all need the chance to fail in a safe environment, with a patient teacher. Pulling your skirt in whitewater builds character, but who wants character when you can have a practiced and pretty roll instead? A reliable combat roll is the goal.

The James River could be called a somewhat damaged and dirty river. Luckily, there is a cleanup effort in place. My river and I share in our imperfections and in our improvement plans. We deserve each other right now. I am learning to stop fighting to get back upstream or to get out of the water altogether or to get anywhere with the illusion of safety. I am learning to let the rivers take me and teach me with or without the help or encouragement of a man. I am learning my own strength and force of will. I am building character with every single skirt pull.

I am grateful for the time and space to practice, and practice and practice the rolling. I am grateful for my teachers and my rescuers. I am grateful for the perpetual motion. I am grateful for my metaphorical river.