Category: Paddle

Thursday morning I left Powhatan State Park with the goal of reaching Boshers Dam just outside Richmond by evening. I stopped at Maidens Landing early to recharge my electronics and jump on a conference call for a project I’ve been working on this summer. The paddle was mostly uneventful after that, except for a surprise Class II when I went over the remnants of Maidens Adventure Dam.

Fifteen miles in, I reached the pool behind Boshers Dam and the entire character of the river changed instantly. Stately homes, country club property, jet skiers, water skiers, fishing boats, and people tubing behind power boats replaced the quiet banks I had grown used to. For the first time on the journey I had to paddle through constant wake. It wasn’t fun at the time, but I figured it was good practice before hitting the tidal section.

I still had ten more miles to go that evening. By the time I reached Boshers Dam it was dark, and finding the takeout just twenty feet upstream on river left near the fish ladder made for a dicey approach. I dragged my boat onto the dam and cowboy camped on the concrete next to the fish ladder.

The next morning I portaged around Williams Dam. Since it’s only about five feet tall and the portage trail was sand, it made for an easy drag.

A few days earlier, I had contacted Riverside Outfitters in advance. I was connected with raft guide Liz, who told me they could take me down the lower falls in a raft, but they wouldn’t be able to run the upper falls because of the low water. That section would be up to me.

After portaging Williams Dam, I ran the upper falls myself. It was mostly straightforward, though the FarOut guide didn’t mention two two-foot drops over pipes that I had to navigate around the edges.

Afterward, I dragged my kayak a good distance through a low side channel to reach the Reedy Creek takeout, where I ordered twenty-six dollars worth of McDonald’s from a picnic table while I waited for the rafting crew. The rafting with Liz was a lot of fun. We ran the lower falls side by side while another raft carried four friends from across the East Coast. The highlight was jumping off a rock into the river.

At 14th Street I asked Liz if I could leave my kayak overnight so I could get a hotel room. She connected me with owner Matt Perry, who had already heard about my trip and immediately let me store my kayak inside their fence. That night I took one of the greatest showers of my life, cranked the AC, ordered Jimmy John’s, and got to bed early.

Saturday morning I was back at the outfitters at 8 AM. Matt helped me launch. The first day on the tidal section after leaving Richmond was striking — giant barges loading gravel, large power plants lining the shore, but also tons of eagles and ospreys constantly flying overhead. A few hours later I stopped at Osborne Landing for lunch at the Lily Pad Restaurant and a couple of beers. While I was there I saw that Matt had posted about my journey.

That evening at the Gravel Pits, I received a message from Justin, who had filmed a documentary called Headwaters Down about paddling the same stretch of the James from Iron Gate to Fort Monroe. He asked if I needed anything and ended up giving me a detailed custom itinerary for camping on the lower James, along with advice on navigating the heavy marine traffic around Newport News.

That night at the Gravel Pits, fisherman Dwayne also recognized me from Matt’s post.

Sunday I paddled to Lawrence Lewis Park, where I had reserved a primitive campsite. When I arrived, the boat ramp manager had no idea they even offered camping. After thirty minutes of phone calls, he pointed me to a picnic area a quarter mile up the road. Not wanting to haul my gear that far or leave my kayak behind, I slept on a picnic table by the water. While there, I also ran into another fisherman who recognized me from Matt’s posts.

Monday I woke up at 5 AM for the 20-mile paddle to Chickahominy Riverfront Park. I encountered one-foot swells much of the way, and despite leaving at high tide I hit headwinds on every bend of the river. It took me eight hours to cover those twenty miles.

I broke camp at 6:30 this morning and was on the water by 7. I quickly covered the six miles down to Scottsville and stopped at James River Reeling and Rafting to charge my electronics. While the batteries were charging, I walked into town in search of breakfast. Not a single restaurant was open yet, so I settled for a coffee shop and spent $13 on an iced mocha and a small blueberry muffin. On the way back to the outfitter, I stopped at a gas station hoping for something more substantial and ordered a chicken biscuit for $6.70. It turned out to be little more than a large chicken nugget sandwiched between something resembling a bun. I ate it begrudgingly.

Back at James River Reeling and Rafting, I followed their recommendation and called a rafting company in Richmond. They were enthusiastic about my trip and quickly arranged a shuttle for my gear past the falls on Friday, along with a spot for me in one of their rafts. It was a huge relief to have that logistics piece settled.

Back on the river, I still had about 20 miles to go to reach my daily goal. I spent the early afternoon paddling through the remnants of yesterday’s thunderstorms, but the clouds finally parted around 3 PM just as I approached the Seven Islands stretch. The FarOut guide recommended staying south of the islands, but I followed the Batteau festival maps and took the northern route instead. It was the best decision I’ve made in a while. What followed was easily the most fun three miles I have paddled on this entire journey: multiple Class II slaloms and a mile-long stretch of 200-year-old Batteau sluices that propelled me through at nearly 10 mph. It was exhilarating.

At the 20-mile mark, I pulled over at the New Canton boat ramp to bathe, recharge my watch, and send an email to the James River Association requesting guidance on camping and resupply options as I approach the tidal section. I then hopped back in the boat and finished the final miles to hit my 25-mile goal for the day.

By 8 PM I spotted a nice flat piece of ground on river right and set up camp for the night. It was a solid day with good miles, fun whitewater, and important logistics taken care of. Onward toward the falls tomorrow.

Thursday wrapped up my time on the Upper James with an eventful finish at Snowden. After an impromptu swim at Balcony Falls from eddying out too quickly, I was more than ready for a break. Friday I took a rest day in Bedford to restock supplies and mentally prepare for the next leg: Lynchburg to Richmond.

Saturday, Steve dropped me off at the Amherst County boat ramp near Lynchburg, where I launched onto the Middle James right as the 41st annual James River Batteau Festival was kicking off. I had the privilege of paddling alongside the batteaux for the first day down to Galt’s Mill. While I would’ve loved to join their eight-day leisurely float, time isn’t on my side, so I kept pushing.

Sunday I aimed for a 25-mile day to James River State Park. Thanks to the dam release the day before, the batteaux had decent water through Lynchburg, but we weren’t so lucky. After Bent Creek, the river dropped to just two inches in spots, forcing me to drag my kayak over a quarter mile of shoals. Still made it to the park around 6 PM, set up a discreet camp at the boat ramp, and slept like a rock.

Monday, the dragging continued. I set out hoping for 30 miles to Scottsville but fell five miles short. About five miles before camp I stopped in Howardsville at a general store for snacks and water. Not long after, the skies opened up and it stormed on and off the rest of the day. I tried waiting it out under a tree, but quickly realized that wasn’t happening, so I just paddled through the storm.

Tonight I’m tucked into a stealth campsite at a defunct ferry crossing, and it’s a big milestone: my 1,000th mile of the journey. With roughly 200 miles left and my finish target of July 2nd, I’ve got 10 days to average 20 miles a day. After two solid 25-mile days, it’s all about early starts and late finishes from here.

I was on the water a little after 8:30 this morning from the Gala campsite at mile 11.8. The day started slow — a mix of easy Class I rapids and long, deep pools that had me pedaling steady.

A couple hours in I passed Eagle Rock and barely saw any signs of civilization from the river. Just me, the kayak, and a pair of otters playing in the water near shore.

Early afternoon I reached Gwyn Lock, an old canal lock dam that creates a fun little rapid. Ran it clean, then immediately pulled out on river left right at the end of a massive stone guard wall. Made that my lunch spot.

The late afternoon brought some of the best scenery yet — towering cliffs rising up around every bend, a few more Class I’s, and one straightforward Class II that gave me no trouble.

But the real highlight was the stretch where the railroad, instead of following the river’s crazy meandering oxbows, cuts straight through the mountain. Turns out those railroad trestles were originally built as aqueducts for the canal boats, so they could float through the mountain instead of paddling an extra three-mile loop. Pretty wild to think this whole upper section from here down to Buchanan was never finished — boats never actually ran through these canals before the railroad took over the right-of-way.

I pulled into Horseshoe Bend at mile 29.1 right around 4 o’clock. The campsite Twin Rivers Outfitters picked out for me was perfect — I could park the boat within twenty feet of my tent. Cooked up some lasagna, ate like a king, and quickly fell asleep.

Seventeen miles down, and the river just keeps getting better.

On Friday, as I finished the final miles of the biking leg near the Virginia-North Carolina line, my buddy Clayton rolled up from Asheville to meet me. We loaded my bike into his 4Runner and headed to Smith Mountain Lake, where my longtime friend Steve let us borrow his lake house for the weekend.

We tested out the kayak, installed the new sun canopy, swam in the warm water, visited Natural Bridge, explored VMI and Washington & Lee, stopped by the National D-Day Memorial, and enjoyed some great meals together. It was the perfect way to recharge before the paddling leg began.

On Sunday morning, after an early breakfast at the North Star Restaurant in Buchanan with Steve, Clayton drove me up to the river and helped me unload. I put in on the Cowpasture River two miles above where it joins the Jackson to form the James. A local at a convenience store had recommended that put-in, and it was the right call—the water was crystal clear and beautiful.

Everything changed at the confluence. The Jackson runs dark from a paper mill upstream, so the James starts out the color of iced tea. I decided right away I wouldn’t swim in it or drink from it.

The first day brought two Class II rapids, Surprise and The Squeeze. The Squeeze was the real thrill, an S-curve with a big boulder to dodge. The kayak handled everything beautifully, and the pedal drive made quick work of the slow, deep pools.

Two thunderstorms rolled through during the day. When I first saw the price tag on that canopy, two hundred and fifty dollars for some aluminum poles and silnylon felt ridiculous. But after it kept me out of the brutal sun and then protected me from the rain during both storms, I’m officially calling it a steal.

I pulled over for the first thunderstorm under an old stone train trestle while a CSX coal train thundered overhead. After thirteen and a half miles and about seven hours on the water, I pulled into Twin River Outfitters’ Gala Campground around eight o’clock. The only clean water I could find all day was from an Exxon station half a mile up the road, so I hiked up, filled my two-liter bag, filtered it back at camp, cooked some Mountain House lasagna, and crashed hard.

Thirteen miles down, a whole lot of river still to go.