However, there are three waterways that are suggested to kayak in our area: Cape Fear River, Little Lower River, and Rockfish Creek. Since I cross over Rockfish Creek every single day on my commute to and from work, I figured why not give it a shot. It was calling out to me every time I crossed over and the point where I cross (Hwy 87) during my commute is the pull out point.
There was very little information available about the creek. I found one review on Trails.com stating it was a pleasant paddle with poor fishing, a trail guide in Paddling Eastern North Carolina by Paul Ferguson that was not very detailed, and a local newspaper article that gave us more information, particularly the time that elapsed during their paddle. I felt as if we were about to go into this pretty blind, which made me a bit nervous.
We got the kayaks loaded onto Man's car and tied down securely.
We stopped at a local sporting goods store to pick up a hand bilge pump and ogle the nicer paddles. Of course that means we both picked up new paddles since they were running a sale. I lucked out and got the last fiberglass paddle and since it had a slightly damaged handle (the lining was already peeling) I got an additional 10% off along with my $10 coupon I had on my discount card. I saved almost $20!
We drove both cars to the take out point and pulled off the highway to park mine in a hopefully shaded spot. While we were there we went ahead and scouted out the take out point so we could familiarize ourselves with landmarks so we didn't miss our take out. The guide and news article I'd read both stated the take out was steep, I think steep was an understatement. It was STEEP and even worse, the soil had been so washed out it was packed hard, slick, and severely rutted in spots.
Man and I sat there mulling over the take out and began to waffle on whether or not we thought we could do it, well, if I could do it. I'm not a weak woman, but I am a realist. I'm rather slight framed and while I'm strong I did genuinely feel concern about how I'd feel after a long paddle. We finally decided it would be worth the effort at the end and headed back to Man's car.
As I navigated, Man drove to our drop in point. The paddling guide suggested dropping in at Hwy 59 in Hope Mills, but we were both worried Man's car would be towed from that location. This was also right before the a small stretch of rapids and the remnants of a dam which sounded hazardous. The news article dropped in at a fire station about a mile down the road and avoided the dam so we opted for that location.
When we pulled into the parking lot of the fire station we were pleased to see parking right next to the woods alongside the creek and a police car parked in the shade of a tree. Man parked two spots down from the officer's cruiser and we went into the station house to ask permission before just dropping our kayaks in the water and leaving his car. We got a quick approval and headed out to prepare to enter the water.
After applying sunscreen and securing our gear to our kayaks we hauled everything over to the edge of the slope leading to the creek. It was steep. Man stood there in a moment of concern while I said "screw it" and just grabbed the front carrying handle and started dragging my kayak down. It was surprisingly simple since the slope was grassy and easy to walk down. Getting into the water proved to be a bit more problematic.
Surrounded by the aroma of homeless urine (most of the bridges in our area are at full capacity due to one of the largest homeless populations in the southeast US) we mulled over the best way to get our kayaks over the six foot drop into the creek. There was a slight cut out in the bank that was a more or less sheer drop with a few "steps" in the dirt. Lining this little spot was a bramble of thorny vines to tear at our flesh as we descended.
Not even four feet upstream was a pretty little sandbar with easy access to the creek. Of course there was absolutely no way to get to this sandbar from the parking lot, trust me we tried to find a way. We steeled our resolve and just took the plunge.
Man went first. We lined up his kayak with the cut out, he dropped down to the creek, and took the brunt of the bramble vines out for me, a true gentleman. Once he landed on the bottom of the creek, I passed down his kayak which he secured alongside a fallen stump. I sent mine down after and then carefully and gracefully slid down the little cutout in the slope, nearly falling into the creek. If Man hadn't been standing right there I'd probably have landed right on my face on a rock.
I'd never entered my kayak in the water before and while the water was only knee deep, I was concerned I'd tip over and did not want to start out our first creek/river paddle with such an inauspicious event. I pulled my kayak up to the sand bar, climbed in, and prepared to push off with my new paddle. Man just hopped in, river rat that he is, and started to go.
For a few minutes we marveled at how awesome our new paddles were. When we bought our first paddles, we'd gone for the cheapest paddles the store had and didn't realize they were children's paddles. The new ones fit us perfectly and our crafts were SO responsive to handling, we had a few moments of silliness, showing off our new found agility and speed.
It was beautiful on the creek. The water ranged from dark brown to an orange color, common in black water creeks. Information tidbit - the black water is caused by tannins released into the water from decomposing vegetation. Trees lined both sides and grew over and into the water, resulting in a mostly shaded trip. We paddled through a tunnel of trees at times. Even so close to civilization, we were reminded of the raw beauty hidden in our part of the state.
Here's a good picture to show what the water looked like depending on depth. The lighter water was shallow and the darkest water was deep. There were many places where we barely skimmed the bottom and several places where would couldn't touch bottom with our paddles extended a full arm's length into the water.
We enjoyed paddling this part of the creek as it was mostly free of downed trees, however there was one tree across the creek where we couldn't find a way through and we had to climb out of our kayaks onto the trunk of the tree, lift over the kayak, and then carefully climb back in.
After I got my kayak over the tree and secured myself, my spidey senses issued a full red alert. Not even a foot from where I'd secured my hand was a wolf spider roughly the same size as my hand. As I let out a yelp, Man chuckled and said he'd been watching the spider and didn't tell me about because he knew I'd have panicked. I have a deep seated fear of spiders, lingering on a full blown phobia, but I'm mostly inclined to live and let live as long as they live away from me. I do value their contribution to bug control. I'm grateful he didn't tell me and that I didn't notice that healthy beast because I'd have probably jumped into the creek and started swimming in a panic to get as far away as fast as possible, kayak be damned.
Shortly after this I encountered my first actual spider attack. We had to navigate through another fallen tree and while it was possible, it did require sort of rocking and hand maneuvering our kayaks around and over the trunk in the water. There was quite a bit of brush in this spot and while I pushed through a spider plopped into my kayak. I managed to free myself from the tree before shrieking and flailing my feet in the direction of the spider. After it was squished we had to pull over because I couldn't get rid of the shuddering sensation and felt that I was covered with spiders in all the places I couldn't see or reach. I was splashing water over my back and kept stretching my paddle over my shoulders to run it up and down to knock any imagined predators off my back.
Thankfully, we came to the point where Little Rockfish Creek joins into the main body of Rockfish Creek. I hopped out and did a little freak out dance on the shore while Man looked me over and declared me spider free. This was just upstream from our first bridge (Research Dr). Man had received a phone call so we pulled onto a sandbar to give him a chance to get his phone out of the wetbag and return the call.
As he was calling back I noticed a chimney up on the bank with a steel door. I have no clue what it was and why it was there, but it looked pretty old and seemed abandoned. I spent about an hour researching online and it seems there was a paper mill built in this region in 1850, so perhaps it could be the remnants? I'm honestly not sure, but it was certainly neat to see.
Once Man's call was wrapped up, we headed back into the creek and crossed under our first bridge.
After this bridge, we hit a section of fun paddling. It was by no means rapids, but there was chop and even a small, and I mean small, waterfall where a fallen tree crossed the stream and caused a reduction in elevation by about 6-8 inches.
We settled into a good rhythm at this point. The current did most of the work and we just steered with our paddles as we floated. This area seemed pretty remote, though we did hear traffic in the distance, so of course we had to start a rousing rendition of Dueling Banjos as we continued downstream. There were many fallen trees to paddle through or around, but we didn't have to get out of our kayaks to navigate over them for a good stretch.
We passed under Hwy 301/Business I-95 and got to deal with a great bit of pollution. There were also several homeless camps set up alongside the creek in this area. In order to keep ourselves from getting overwhelmed by fury at how humans just shit on our mother, we made a game out of furnishing our next home with all the garbage and debris we pulled from the creek. By the end of the trip, we'd managed to furnish a dining room, porch, two bedrooms, and even part of a living room. We also found enough siding to put up on a section of our imagined home as well as two doors and window. Since I need tires for my Mom-Mobile, we managed to find a pair and determined that semi tires probably could fit if we tried hard enough.
Shortly before I-95, we pulled onto a big sandbar that was practically a beach to stretch our legs and have a snack. It was perfect for swimming and being that we were completely isolated, I stripped down and hopped into the water for a nice swim.
We could have stayed there all day and did break for about thirty minutes before I donned my damp clothing (I'd stretched them over my kayak to dry in the sun) with much protest and we set off again.
As soon as we got close to I-95, the creek took on a stench. It just smelled horrid. There was tons of garbage in the creek, including tires, food wrappers, drink bottles, and discarded home items. This is where we really began to furnish our imagined home in earnest. In this section, we actively paddled most of the time, just so we could get away and get to cleaner water as quickly as possible.
This section of the creek is also populated. It butts up against the Grey's Creek area of newer homes built for service members with some money that want an illusion of suburban life away from it all. The creek remained littered throughout this portion and we could hear people shouting and music blaring at times. There was also evidence that spots were used as swimming holes and there was even a rope swing out by an area with a steep bluff that was surprisingly shallow and then shockingly deep. We weren't sure how people would get to the rope to swing into the creek since it was more or less in the middle of the current and inaccessible from shore.
We kept paddling with purpose to get as far away from people and their evidence as possible and after about an hour, we were free from most signs of humanity, save their lingering debris caught in trees across the river. There were two more trees in this final stretch that we could not find a way around or through, so twice more we managed to climb out, push over, and climb back in. After the first tree, where I wobbled and bobbed around quite a bit, I'd found my balance and was able to get over these obstacles with a much stronger confidence.
Finally, we found another sandbar across from an idyllic little trickle fall coming from the bank high above. We landed our kayaks, had a snack, and once again stripped out of our wet clothes to give them a chance to dry out while we went for a swim. Hand's down, this was our favorite spot on the entire creek. With the little falls, we had a perfect soundtrack for our break, and we got a chance to cool off in the cold water. It was relaxing and invigorating to have a chance to frolic about in the water and take a nice break truly away from it all.
We probably spent about an hour in this spot playing and enjoying our break. We both reluctantly put on our now dry clothes and prepared to push off once again.
At this point, we'd traversed just over seven miles down the creek so we were nearing the end of our journey. We let the current carry us for a while though I kept paddling at times. Man asked me why I was in such a rush several times to remind me to slow it down and take it easy.
And then we were there. We heard traffic in the distance and it grew louder so much faster than we thought possible. We weren't ready to be done! We also realized that getting out of the water meant pulling our kayaks up that impossibly steep and slippery slope. I pointed out the trunks I'd noticed in the water and Man pulled in. I pulled up alongside him and we both climbed into the water. He climbed up onto the shore through a small cut in the slope and hauled up his kayak. I quickly followed suit, struggling until he gave me a hand.
We got our kayaks up and loaded into my car. It was hairy and I confess, after getting Man's kayak up I wanted to cry at the thought of doing it again. We did it though and loaded up into the car with the a/c on full blast as I drove to drop Man off at his car.
When we got back into town, we stopped at Big T's for a shave ice. It was such a treat after a long day on the creek. We looked over our stats on our trip tracker, marveling that we'd paddled 8.96 miles on our first real, big trip. We were on the creek for just over 5 hours and if we'd just paddled and hadn't stopped so many times, we'd probably have been able to do the stretch in 3 hours.
Since we were seated for such a long time on thinly padded kayak seats, we've decided to look into a way to pad them out a bit more. Both of our bottoms were quite sore and even today, after a full night's rest, my tailbone still feels slightly bruised. I've already spent part of the morning eyeballing a memory foam bath mat we don't use to determine if it's big enough to cut out for both of our seats. We'll see.
It was an absolute blast. Though we're both a little sore across our shoulders today, I don't feel like I paddled nine miles down a creek. I thought we'd both be miserable today but we aren't and if we didn't have be responsible adults today, I'd probably be pestering him to hit the water again.
People always do that when we buy stuff from them to brew.
