Essay and photos by Joe Mish

At sixty strokes a minute, the paddle leaves a linear series of isolated, expanding ripples, lingering on the water’s surface, appearing like the tracks of a rabbit running in the snow. Photo by Bill Haduch

The low concrete dam spanned the shallow river to create a constant water supply for a long gone 19th century grist mill. Above the dam a placid lake was formed, its surface appeared static and reflective to disguise the current as the determined river flowed from highlands to sea level. The dam caused the river to pause its downstream journey as it pondered its escape from the impoundment. It first attempted to expand its breadth to go around the obstacle. Failing that, the river began to overflow the dam.  The water flowing over the dam was now energized by its escape, and enlivened by the infusion of oxygen from its precipitous fall. The resulting white water was a sign of turbulence and the aeration reduces the density of the water making objects less buoyant.  As the water fell upon itself, the weight of the falling water created a void, filled in by downstream water flowing upstream, to form a horizontal current, spinning parallel the length of the dam, known as a hydraulic.

Dam pictured has claimed lives, though it looks harmless at low water levels.

The spinning action of the hydraulic increased the downstream current’s speed. Over time, debris and sediment accumulated below the dam to force the water into one main channel to create a venturi effect which further accelerates current speed.

Warning sign above the impounded water, and a note left on my truck warning of the danger dams present to paddlers.

A couple hundred yards below the dam, the flowing water surrenders its infused energy to rely on the gradient of the river bed to continue its seaward journey.

On a bright sunny day, after a warm June rain, I decided to accompany the river on its infinite downstream journey. I placed my black carbon fiber canoe a few feet from the sandy shore in about a foot of calm water before I climbed aboard. As the river bed naturally narrowed from the wide funnel shaped expanse created by the dam, accumulated sediment and debris blocked and shifted the main flow to the far shore.   

When I launch at this location, I always do an upstream ferry to experience the free energy the river supplies. A ferry will carry you across a river’s current with hardly any effort. No need to aim your boat far upstream of your intended landing while furiously fighting the current. I eased the boat into the current, bow upstream, to position it parallel to the flowing water, making it essentially invisible to the current. It is possible to sit motionless in fast water, as long as the boat remains perfectly aligned with the flow.  When performing an upstream ferry, point the bow in the direction you want to go, the angle depends on the speed of the current. It feels like magic as you entice the river’s energy to reveal itself and provide a counter intuitive assist to effortlessly cross a strong current.

Water level determines the downstream course. At low levels, winding channels in the river bed own the navigable water. This day the higher water left many options.

The sleek black canoe appeared as a dark shadow on the river bed, its passage as silent as its shadow, neither left a trail or a trace.

Where the river makes a bend, the water downstream, pools, as the flow crashes headlong into the river bank. Below each significant bend, a shoal will be formed with channels generally situated tight along either shore.

Immediately after one sharp bend, marked by a high red shale cliff, a navigable narrow passage runs very tight along the right steep shale bank, shrouded by overhanging branches. At lower water levels this channel is like running a gauntlet, though preferable to dragging the boat over the protruding shoal.

When the river passes under one old steel truss bridge, the river course is such that the main current bounces off the angled bank, causing an eddy of circulating water to form on both shores. An eddy shaves flowing water from the main course and the bow of a boat can suddenly be held still by the eddy and simultaneously the stern is swept downstream to overturn the canoe. Eddy turns are a basic maneuver a paddler should master, especially in high water where an eddy is not normally formed at lower levels. Get caught by surprise in an eddy in high water or off season will make you a believer in reading a river. Find a place where eddies form at lower water levels and learn the basics of fluid dynamics and effective paddle strokes and downstream braces.

On any given day the river can deliver a surprise that was not there the day before. Specifically, strainers, treetops which fall across the river blocking passage are especially dangerous. This is where a ferry can come in handy when you round a bend and see it blocked by a fallen tree. Tangled in branches with a water filled boat or current pressing you against an immovable object is a death sentence. Water weighs a pound a pint, and a boat full of water is beyond the strength of the most fit paddler to lift.

This is where a draw comes in handy. Kept the boat upright with a desperation draw.NEVER stop paddling, keep your paddle in the water!

Obstacles avoided; a stretch of open water begs the black canoe to be pushed to the limit of its design. The paddlers fitness and form are the rate limiting factors to speed the canoe’s shadow along the light tan river bottom.  At sixty strokes a minute, the paddle leaves a linear series of isolated, expanding ripples, lingering on the water’s surface, appearing like the tracks of a rabbit running in the snow. 

The black canoe is the cursor I used to help read the river’s mood and understand its personality. It was a good read with many twists and turns, the imagery impressive and maybe the best never ending story ever told.  

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.