MY NAME IS MUD

This weekend brought more unseasonably warm weather, and we decided to take advantage of it with a paddling trip. We weren’t in the mood for a long drive, so Dave and I planned a short outing on Mountain Island Lake, which is on the Catawba River just northwest of Charlotte. Our plan was to canoe the upper section of the lake, which is narrower and a bit more river-like than the areas farther downstream. Since there is no legal put-in at the dam below Lake Norman, nor at the highway 73 bridge, we decided to start from the Killian Road access in Gaston County. From there we’d paddle 4 or 5 miles “upstream” to the dam and back. We knew our plans were contingent on whether Duke Power was releasing water from Lake Norman. I had tried this once before, and water being released from the lake created a current that was virtually impossible to paddle against. We headed out that afternoon hoping that conditions would allow us to complete the trip. If not, we didn’t have much in mind in the way of a backup plan.

I planned to canoe with Dave, while Christy intended to try out her new whitewater kayak. Whitewater kayaks aren’t designed to be paddled on lakes, but she doesn’t know how to roll yet, and she wanted to at least get it in the water. Also joining us was Christy’s sister, Megan, Megan’s boyfriend, Forest, and our nephew, Nathan. They would paddle our canoe.

Just getting to the put-in was a challenge. Dave was meeting us there with his boat, but we only had one car capable of transporting two boats from our side of town. We weren’t sure about getting both on the Xterra, so we put Christy’s kayak inside and strapped the canoe to the roof rack. This meant having to take a separate car for everyone else to ride in.

We reached the put-in without any trouble, and found no other vehicles there. This was good, because parking is limited. I helped Forest haul our canoe down to the water, and as we approached the lake, I slipped in a treacherous patch of mud and went down in a heap. As I was falling, I noticed that my feet were horizontal from my head. It was quite a landing.

I was filthy after that, and of course I hadn’t brought a change of clothes. I guess the moral to this story is to always bring a change of clothes. And a towel.

Everybody else made it to shore without incident. We headed out into a minor cove that provides access to the lake. Unfortunately, the cove is choked with sandbars, and we didn’t make it far before we had to get out and walk. There is another channel that might be deep enough to paddle, but it is currently blocked by a fallen tree. After a short hike through ankle deep water, we reached the end of the sandbar and resumed paddling.

A couple of minutes later we reached the main channel. We were relieved to find that the only current there was due to the wind, which was actually blowing upstream. We turned that way, but quickly realized that Christy was struggling. She was having a tough time keeping her whitewater kayak moving in a straight line. In addition, Forest and Megan had never paddled together, and weren’t really inclined to attempt an ambitious trip. After a brief discussion, they decided to explore nearby Duck Cove. I had been there once before, and had found it an interesting place to spend a couple of hours. Meanwhile, Dave and I resumed our journey.

We paddled past a wildlife refuge, and spotted several Great Blue Herons along the way. A brief stretch featuring a few houses was only a mild interruption. Beyond, the banks were wooded on each side. The paddling was generally easy, with the wind at our backs. After about an hour of paddling, we reached the lower end of a large island. We decided to circle the island before heading back.

Once we reached the far end, Cowans Ford Dam was visible ahead. We decided that we were so close, we might as well go all the way to the end. As we paddled, we noticed what looked like a three-story guard tower on the east bank. We couldn’t shake the funny feeling that we were being watched – possibly through the scope of a rifle. The dams and power plants along here, some nuclear, are the focus of heavy security in the post 9/11 world.

We passed under the highway 73 bridge and a railroad bridge and passed a rocky, barren island. We circled the island, just below the base of the dam, and headed back downstream. We were hoping that Duke Power would choose to start releasing water now, to speed our return. We had no such luck though, and a stiff headwind made the return journey tedious.

We passed the time with a couple of beers and some interesting conversations. Among them were the artistic merits of the movie (and book) Deliverance, as well as the mysterious nature of uncontrollable cravings for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

We were late getting back, thanks to the headwind. We found Christy waiting for us, as Forest and Megan had already headed home. They had enjoyed Duck Cove for awhile, but it didn’t take long to explore it. At least Nathan had enjoyed the opportunity to get out of the house. We’ll probably return to Mountain Island Lake in the future, but I doubt I’ll do the stretch up to the dam again. The put-in is tedious, and paddling that stretch once was probably enough. Next time, we’ll probably start at the Neck Road Access and paddle up the cove formed by McDowell Creek.

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