Chapter 1 The Plan
I wanted to do a short run and take advantage of localized high water and Anglins Creek seem to fit the bill. Tales of it being haunted and the fact that just one ridge stood between it and Upper Meadow added to the appeal. The plan was to hit it early and then go to Gauley Fest. Three of us attempted Anglins:
Jim McClure,
Mason Daniel, and myself, Tony Daniel. Jim drove south to Hico (I met him at 9:15) after he had an eventful and sleepless Fri. night camped at Gauley Fest. We picked up Mason (who mentioned he had also stayed up late) in La Vista before heading to the water plant on route 41 where Anglins dumps into the Meadow. We left my van and piled into Jim’s truck. We took Runa Road 24 and then went to the 24/7 crossing of Anglins creek to determine options for put ins. I explained we could put in there and kayak 3 or 4 miles back to van or continue on to the next option. In reality, option 1 actually looks closer to being 4 or 5 miles after consulting the maps at home. Somehow I always under estimate distances.
We went for option two: putting in further upstream, at a ford on a road that roughly resembles 17/2. I say resembles, because we were navigating on logging roads that were gated (but open) on land being leased by hunting clubs. Brent Samples and I had scouted this put in a couple years ago. Before putting on we followed the road some more, fording the creek since the road on the other side of the creek looked like it was in much better condition than the way we came in. Eventually, 8 miles later, we ended up in Quinwood. We turned around and went back to the put in (at the ford) but we now knew a better way to drive into the creek. I'm going to estimate it was 11:30 am when we put on the water for what was supposed to be a 6-8 mile paddle all together (probably would have been 9 miles had we actually made it).
Chapter 2 Beaver City
A tell tale “sign” that the day and our trip was doomed was when we put in below one strainer and above another. The whole section we ran was littered with strainers. We spent as much time out of our boats as in, mostly fighting with our boats through Rhododendron thickets. I've boated several smaller streams with far less wood. Obviously the area was hard hit by Sandy, the Derachio, or both. This is too bad, because the creek was pretty, had consistent gradient would have been considered a straight forward class two-three run. The creek was dropping out so we scraped a bit and we all found ourselves temporarily pinned on rocks at one time or another but that was a minor nuisance. As it was, we were doing well to travel half a mile per hour. It was slow tedious work that involved getting out the boats continuously (20x or more). The fallen logs weren’t limited to the creek, so when we did carry we frequently had to pull our boats over and under fallen trees.
Chapter 3 Separation and another “Sign”
We were about a quarter of the way when we realized we weren't going to make the whole 6-8 miles (which after studying the maps it would have been closer to 9 miles). All three of us were determined to make it to the first road crossing. We had no vehicle there but we all were getting exhausted and knew that we would run out of daylight if we tried to push the whole way back to the van.
At one point Jim portaged on river right around a log jam, Mason portaged center, and I portaged left. The creek continued to braid out. Mason and I met up but Jim was nowhere to be seen. As we got back in our boats, Mason and I hoped that Jim was ahead of us and not caught in a strainer upstream somewhere. After paddling a short distance, we noticed three rocks stacked on a strainer or log that you could pull your boat over. We knew that was a “sign” from Jim. Mason and I were glad to know he was safe and ahead of us.
Chapter 4 A Welcome Sight
We didn't see Jim again until we reached the bridge on road 24/7 at about 6:45 pm. It was a very welcome sight to see the bridge and then see Jim. We had traveled 4 river miles and at least 4 ½ miles or 5 miles if you include the detours around the wood. We had scraped, clawed, waded, and hacked our way through trees both on and off the creek. Jim had gone ahead on his own through the strainer filled creek, caught a ride back to van, found my stashed keys, and had returned with the van. Obviously, I was the slow poke. Mason often traded me boats, dragging my heavier xp and he helped pull our boats over and under logs. He also was a very good probe when it came to paddling through strainers. My resolve is still strong but sometimes strong bodies are needed as well, and Mason has both those qualities.
Chapter 5 a Million Dollars or Just Haunted?
It was foggy and rainy as we drove the Russelville Road back to Quinwood. Gazing down into the valley where Anglins is nestled, the fog and encroaching darkness truly made the place look haunted. Jim says the place played with his mind. He claims to have received a phone call from me, and heard my voice, even though I was still fighting my way down the creek earlier in the evening. When we finally made it back to Jim’s truck (the creek ford put in) at 9:00 pm, he asked Mason, “If I gave you a headlamp would you paddle the creek for a million dollars?” Mason responded, “It wouldn’t matter how much you offered, there’s simply no way I could make it.”
So I dropped Mason off at his Mom’s house after eating dinner with him at the Rainelle McDonalds and I made it back to Oak Hill at 10:30. I settled on a warm shower and soak in the hot tub instead of a trip to Summersville. Maybe I’ll actually make it to Gauley Fest next year. Jim did make it back there to pick up his tent and sell a boat and then he made it home at 1:00 am.
Sore muscles and a few scrapes were the price we all paid for our wood filled adventure. Would I do it again? Sure, but you paddle it first and then let me know if you still want to go. Until then, I’m a one and done concerning Anglins. Tony
