A quick plug for what should be an entertaining and informative Earth
Day event actually being held on Earth Day (which is Wednesday, FYI).

Three options for the first weekend of April.

Good news for paddlers who like an extra challenge when they're on the
Neuse River. Bad news if you were planning to participate in this
weekend's Neuse River clean-up.

Volunteers to scour a 50-mile stretch of Neuse, from Falls Dam to Smithfield Commons.

... not so gently over a 127-foot waterfall.

I took my first wafting trip on the Eno River in 1995, the year I began writing regularly about the outdoors for The News & Observer. My goal since has been to get back on the Eno with Riverdave at least once a year. Life being what it is, I've probably made it back once every other year.

My last trip was last June. For those of you who didn't have a chance to experience this unique paddle trip, you can read an account of that trip here.

Yesterday, Bill Camp, best known in Triangle adventure circles as an avid mountain biker and the original president of TORC, shared a tale from his days as a whitewater canoeist. That trip was inadvertent; after spending three hours to find access to the Upper Meadow River in West Virginia, his party wound up paddling the last 45 minutes of Class III and IV water in the dark. Today, he tells the tale of a premeditated whitewater paddle in the dark.

"My moonlight paddle on the Lower Haw River happened in February 1998. Those days I was paddling my Redline C-1 conversion most of the time. My main paddling buddy was Richard Mann, an expert kayaker from Durham. Richard was a much more seasoned paddler than I, and we spent a couple of years paddling as many rivers throughout the southeast as we could find running. We had a particular love of creeking in the mountains of NC, TN, VA and WVa.

"With many nights around the campfire spinning paddling tales, some true and some not, we somehow got on the subject of how cool it would be to try a nighttime paddle down a river we were comfortable on with only the full moon to light the way. We decided the best option would probably be the Haw since it was close by, we could paddle a relatively short section of river and we would have little trouble walking out if things went bad.

"Now planning a night paddle isn't quite as simple as planning a night ride on a mountain bike. It almost certainly would require a full moon or very close. We would have to make the paddle during the winter so there wouldn't be any leaves to shade the water from the moonlight. And we would need a suitable water level, enough to pad the rocks of Gabriel's Bend, but not too much make a rescue too difficult if someone ended up in trouble and out of their boat. Meaning me, since I only saw Richard out of his kayak involuntarily once in all the times we paddled over the years.

"As you can imagine, having a confluence of all these circumstances doesn't really happen that often. We were lucky in that it only took a couple of months to get a night that would work. The full moon was going to be up by 9 p.m., the Haw was running at 6 inches on the old US64 bridge gauge and as an added bonus, it was going to be a relatively mild night with temps above 40 degrees.

"After setting our stealth shuttle at Robeson Creek canoe access (we weren't sure if it was illegal to be there after dark), we were ready to start. After launching we practiced some ferries below the bridge to get the feel for the water when you couldn't really see everything in it. It was amazing how well we could see by the moonlight once our eyes adjusted though. We could see all the tongues of the water, the white bubbles and even the rocks above the water. All I can remember having difficulty with was seeing anything below the water. Which happens a lot on the Haw even in broad daylight. We made it successfully through Lunch Stop, Ocean Blvd. and to the top of Gabriel's Bend without incidence.

"A funny thing happened on the way down the river that night. Somewhere between the bridge and Gabriel's I began to feel the water as I never had before. I could feel the push against the bottom of my hull, the feel as the current would push my boat across on a ferry as I adjusted my angle so that I was making moves with an ease and a grace I had never felt before. I was letting the water do the work instead of me. It was a watershed moment in my paddling career. It was as if by turning off the light, a light came on in my head that took me to the next level in my paddling skills. Confident, hooting and hollering all the way, we eddy hopped all the way down Gabriel's, through the Maze and downriver until we reached the slack waters of the lake. We paddled across the lake in the now brilliant light of the full moon that made it seem almost as if it were daylight. When we reached the takeout we loaded our boats and skedaddled before a ranger showed up to issue us a ticket for being there after dark.

"We talked of repeating this paddle as soon as we could so we could bring some more of our paddling friends along for the fun. Unfortunately, we never could seem to a night that we were in town, the river running and a full moon on a cloudless night again. As the drought tightened it's grip on the southeast I moved on to mountain biking as my main recreational pursuit and Richard took up four wheeling and caving. We've drifted apart, and I've not even spoken to him in over five years. But I will always remember our night together on the Haw. Maybe someday I'll even get a chance to paddle it again by moonlight."

Bill Camp is best known in Triangle adventure circles as an avid mountain biker and the original president of TORC. Before that, though, he was an avid whitewater kayaker. Avid and, perhaps, a tad crazy: He's the only person I've ever run into who has gone whitewater paddling at night. Intentionally, that is.

Like many of us, he also had an inadvertent night whitewater paddle. As part of GOGF's look at playing in the dark, Bill shares his nocturnal exploits — both intentional and otherwise — in a two-part series. Today: Otherwise.

"In mid January 1997 my wife and I were on a paddling trip in West Virginia with some other canoeing friends. It was an unusually mild January weekend, the Upper Meadow River was running at a reasonable 750 cubic feet per second, so we decided that conditions were perfect for a first-time trip down this highly recommended section of river. At this level it is a Class III-IV paddle without any really significant rapids. Just eight miles of fast moving flat water with a few I-II riffles along the way. Then comes the meat, four miles of continuous Class III-IV boogie water. The last big drop is a 6'-7' ledge with a left hand move in front of an undercut on river right. After this last rapid it's another three miles to the takeout through mostly fast moving I-II water.

"This section of the Meadow is in the middle of nowhere, and there is very limited access from put-in to takeout. However, there is a way to cut out almost all of the eight-mile section of mostly flatwater if you can only find it. Well, after setting shuttle at the takeout, our party of three tandem canoes (all husband and wife teams) and two solo canoes set out in search of the shortcut. After three hours and numerous false starts, side trips down mountain goat tracks and looking for roads that were on the map but not really there, we ended up all the way at the beginning of the 15-mile run. It was approaching 1 p.m. with about 4 1/2 hours of daylight remaining. After some spirited discussion, we decided if we didn't stop more than a couple of times we could make good enough time on the flatwater to complete the run before dark.

"We made really good time through the first eight miles completing the easy part in a little over two hours. We spent the next two hours paddling "The Rapid", the four-mile section of continuous Class III-IV, which was lots of fun and not pushy at all at this level. Unfortunately, down in the bottom of the river valley, it was getting dark much earlier than we expected. After one swim and a near pin on the final big drop, we decided to portage the rest of the boats and eat a quick snack before paddling like hell to the takeout before dark.

"I don't think I've ever seen my wife paddle harder than she did that day trying to get back to the vehicles before darkness fell. Unfortunately, we had about 1 1/-2 miles of river more than daylight left. We ended up paddling in what soon became a pitch black night. Enough cloud cover to conceal the stars, and nowhere near a full moon. Amazingly enough, our vision adjusted enough to make out the whitecaps from the green water, and by avoiding the white patches we were able to paddle to safety without any mishaps.

"It was a scary experience because we couldn't distinguish any of the landmarks we had noted to identify the takeout when we got there. It was beside a moss covered old stone bridge over the river, which we actually paddled under before we even saw it. It was about 6:30 when we arrived and we had paddled at least the last 45 minutes in what could safely be called pitch darkness. Looking back on this escapade, it was one of the stupidest things I ever attempted on a river in my entire life. Not the stupidest, but close enough to qualify for top two status."

Remind us to ask Bill, next time we see him, about the other stupidest thing he's done.

Tomorrow: Paddling whitewater in the dark, part II (intentionally).

Ever dream of taking an epic paddle trip — like exploring the length of
the 193-mile Neuse River? Now's your chance, thanks to the North Carolina Paddle Trails Association — and you don't even half to take a leave of absence from work to do it.

A Monday search for the elusive Beaverdam Creek.