Swim at Patton’s Run

I have paddled the Nantahala River 75 or more times over the past 30 years. On Sunday, September 3, 2006, I had a very cold swim in 45 degree water down the worst part of Patton’s Run. It was my second swim there in 30 years, the first being on my very first trip down the Nantahala in a canoe.  The Nantahala is always cold (~45 degrees F).  It relies on water released from the bottom of Lake Nantahala (aka, Lake Aquone) that runs down at least 1,000 feet elevation in pipes to turn power generating turbines. The release from the turbines marks the start of the popular rafting, kayaking, and canoeing section.

Author (front) and friend, Rosanne, at Patton's Run circa 1985.

Patton’s Run appears about 300 yards and one minute after launching from the U.S. Forest Service launching area, and it is fast water all the way. The river constricts to create a class III rapid whose main two challenges are selecting a good path to remain upright in its very powerful waves and avoiding a barely submerged, undercut rock at the bottom of its most powerful waves. There was way too much river traffic due to the holiday weekend, and dodging rafts presented a third challenge.

A large raft loaded with paddlers was stranded on a rock at the top of the rapid, and I concentrated on staying clear of it and also setting a good course through the rapid. As I passed the raft, I failed to see that another raft had hit it and dislodged it (my paddling buddy, Bill McDaniel, accompanying me in his kayak told me later). The raft blind-sided me and knocked my canoe over in the water too fast for me to react.

In this case too much knowledge may be worse than too little. I have seen canoes pinned at the undercut rock that could not be freed until the water via the turbines was turned off. I also knew that a teen-age girl had drowned in Patton’s Run a few years ago due to foot entrapment (probably whitewater paddling’s greatest hazard), and the Forest Service’s posting board at the launch area reports that there have been others have drowned in that area of the river due to foot entrapment.

Anyway, I managed to hang on to my paddle and grab hold on my overturned canoe which had plenty of flotation to keep it afloat, and quickly work to keep my feet downstream and high in the water. I could see that I would have to work to avoid the undercut rock. The undercut rock was soon behind me, but I was still in the middle of a powerful and fast-flowing part of the river with plenty of potential for foot entrapment. It was always tempting to try to step down, as controlling the direction of where the canoe and I were heading was very difficult using only use my legs which I was trying to keep high in the water and ahead of me. The alternative to not getting to the bank was the possibility of staying in fast, dangerous water for about 200 more yards. Of course, the wisest thing would have been to let go of the canoe and possibly ditch my ($240.00) paddle in hope that my paddling buddy, Bill, and, possibly, other boaters might retrieve them. My foolish pride would not let me do that.

Slowly, progress toward the downriver right bank was being made and, eventually, probably a bit dangerously soon, standing up gave me much better leverage to control the canoe. I say "a bit dangerously soon" because my prescription sunglasses secured to my head with a strap that was inaccessible beneath my helmet were completely fogged up and I could not see what I would be standing up in. One lesson learned (among others) was not to paddle with glasses again on rivers where such an event might happen again.

I managed to get myself and my canoe ashore with much effort…the water was fast even at the bank, and since I was completely out of shape, I was breathing heavily. I quickly recovered and the rest of the 7.5 mile trip was uneventful. The best thing that should and, I hope, will come of this mishap, is to renew paddling on a regular basis. The Nantahala is not a good river to run when you are rusty and out of shape.