Thursday, May 25th
I had the jitters. I was up past midnight the night before I launched making sure everything was in order. Months of research and planning were quickly coming into focus and sleep seemed impossible. I set the alarm for 4:45am. My ride—one such Sara Scully—was due at 5:30am.
When we pulled out of the drive, I felt my throat tighten with that you’re-about-to-cry feeling. For weeks I had been wrestling with my own mortality. I had spent time imagining and working through all the ways I could get sick, injured, or die on this trip—not because I was afraid, but because staying safe and alive meant thinking through and preparing for (as much as possible) all the ways the trip could turn sour. Now that I was finally leaving for the river all those thoughts and feelings rose to the surface and muddled about with my excitement.
We stopped for breakfast at the Waffle House. Wearing my new clothes (purchased especially for this venture) felt like a little scout about to be sent off to their first day of camp. I tried to eat but mostly found I couldn’t. I wanted to. It felt a shame to pass up food knowing that I’d be rehydrating freeze dried meals for the next ten days or so.
Pulling into the Grants Mill launch spot, the parking lot was empty except for one car which looked suspiciously like Ginny’s vehicle. If you want to talk about defenders of the river, Ginny Brown is on the list. Ginny has adopted this portion of the river and taken it under her care. She’s out there all the time getting things cleaned up, and while it wasn’t totally unexpected, I was still surprised and delighted to have her send me off.
I launched at 6:47am. The river was swollen with flood water from rains two days before. Water moved at a quicker than usual clip which I would need considering this first day would mean portage around 5 dams. My goal for today was to make it down past Caldwell Mill Road and hopefully safely to the backyard of my friend, Adam Williams. That would be around 19 river miles or so, and I wasn’t sure I could do all that in one day—I surely was gonna try though.
The morning was cool. I had to put on my long sleeves and was begging for the sun to hit the water. Once those spots of sun started surfacing, I relished slowly passing through them while the air swirled thickly with various bird calls. Kingfishers fussed at me from mid-way up treetops, and things in twos swooped down around the river’s surface snapping at flies and fish. Yucca, oakleaf hydrangea, and elderflower unfolded along the upper banks in soft whites, and tiny purple phlox studded outcroppings nearer the water’s edge.
The river met me eagerly with energy as if to welcome me to this trip. I stopped for lunch mid-morning at the best sand bar I love so well. Here in the middle of green goodness and what felt the middle of nowhere (save for the persistent drone of 459) I had myself a little dance party. And because the water looked inviting, had a full-on dunk in the river. Immediately, my right ear filled with water and would, much to my chagrin, stay that way all day no matter how I tried to get it out or the million different ways I shook my head.
The majority of the day was spent covering portions of river I was already really familiar with. The Grants Mill to 280 segments are some of the most popular because they’re easy to access and achievable with a day-float. However, past the 280 launch, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew from what my friends at the Cahaba River Society had told me and what I could see on Google maps that there were 5 dams between 280 and Caldwell Mill Road. There’s a reason this segment isn’t covered on the Blueway map, and that reason is because it’s a dangerous and difficult pain in the butt. But I’m on a mission to kayak every portion of the river; so, I wasn’t going to skip it.
The first dam is the 280 one, and I knew what to expect out of it. It’s visible from the road. The only way to safely to get past is to get out and carry all your stuff up, over, and around. The bank under the bridge is steep, silty, and one slip could send the yak rocketing back into the water. The whole process looked arduous, but I told myself just one step at a time would do it.
So, I pulled all my dry bags out and up onto the bank leaving the dry well filled with foodstuff. Then, digging in, pulled the boat slowly up the bank, drug it across all the boulders, and lowered it ever so gently back down the bank below the dam. I repacked and was off again. The second dam really set me on edge as I approached. I wasn’t sure how deep a drop it was, and the banks didn’t look scaleable.
Obstructions snagged on the dam guided me to a protruding portion that would allow me the chance to pause and evaluate how to get past everything. I managed to drag myself and the yak up on the rock wall and doing so let me glimpse the other side where I was met with a huge surprise stand of Cahaba Lilies! Lilies, already? I didn’t think I’d see them until my fourth or fifth day and here they were on my first. What a gift from the river to meet me like this in the middle of the unknown.
I dangled my feet over the dam looking at the 4ft drop below. I eased my body down on the other side but the one smooth rock below was too slick to get good footing while lowering the kayak over. Trying to pass on the right side of the dam looked like a rushing death trap, and I said to myself, “your momma wouldn’t want you to go that way.” To go left was a slow-going picking of the way over rocks and snags. But it looked do-able without death. I went left. It took a very long time, but I had time, and I knew those lilies were waiting for me. They were so worth it too.
The third dam spooked me. I could hear the water rushing over its edge, and I could see my little blue dot on Google maps approaching, but I couldn’t see the dam. The water before and after blended perfectly into a seamless stretch disguising the dam’s presence. The bank on the left was impassable; so, I beelined toward the steep rocky bank on the right where I could beach the kayak and climb above things to get a good view of what I was dealing with. Fortunately, after the steep climb up, there was a lovely set of stone steps leading down below. I was grateful too, because by this point, I was already exhausted from the day and knew I still had a good bit ahead to tackle.
The dam was a sharp drop and the water on the other end churned with hydraulics. I watched a football caught in the churn getting sucked into and spat back out in a tumbling loop. I leaned back against the stone wall to slow the racing of my heart and catch my breath. And then, my phone rang. I looked down and was so glad to take the call from a dear friend. I was low on phone battery but very grateful to hear a friendly voice while I worked up the strength and energy to do what I needed to get around. I didn’t bother taking the bags out of the kayak this time. The rocky bank helped me brace and drag everything up at once. Then it was just a matter of a controlled slide down the stone steps.
After carefully assessing dam 4 and still worn out from 3, I yelled “SEND IT” and yeeted right on over what was barely a blip in the river with the floodwater. The 5th and last dam had a steep drop with a cement ledge directly below, but I once again picked myself around via a rocky side passage to the right. Low of energy and with my strength spent, the kayak got caught something fierce during this part, but I was only 10 min out from Adam’s and so, with some hollerin’, yanked it free.
Adam was waiting for me at the top of the bank of his back yard. He had music blasting so I wouldn’t miss the landing site. The bank here was crumbly and the only way up to his yard was a beaten down deer path. With the last bit of what was left in me I got the kayak out of the water and tossed my camp equipment up the bank.
Adam—in his joy and and excitement for the trip—ordered an exorbitant amount of sushi, and Sara, who had saw me off at the start of the day, joined us for an evening of laughter and celebration. I was so worn out, I started nodding off in the middle of the meal, but managed to get myself down to my hammock and tucked in. I spent a chilly but lovely night out under the stars, and right as I started falling asleep, my ear finally popped.
Launch Time: 6:47am
CFS: 280 (Mountain Brook Gauge)
Water Height: 1.5ft
Water Temp: 68 degrees
Take Out Time: 5:45pm
Miles Traveled: 18.8
What a challenging day 1! Thank god for friends and sushi
Cool adventure! The stand of lilies is surprising to me, too.