My race weekend, Part 2: post-race

On Saturday I finished third overall and second in my boat class at the Big South Fork River Dash.  While not the most triumphant possible way to end a season, I'll take it.  All told, I'm satisfied with how I competed.

I was sore and exhausted the rest of the day.  My right lower back still has not emerged from its depressing stiffness.  I knew I wouldn't have the energy to head back home Saturday, so I registered for another night of camping at Alum Ford.  Most of the other racers had cleared out and the place was quiet.  It was dark around 7 o'clock and I was in bed by 8:30.  I proceeded to sleep great, free of the sinus trouble of the night before.  By the time I crawled out of my tent Sunday morning I was still wicked sore but at least I was rested and feeling awake and alert.

I was eager to head home, but I decided that as long as I was in an area with lots of lovely natural attractions I should at least do a bit of sight-seeing.  I broke camp and headed for Cumberland Falls.

Cumberland Falls is widely thought to be the highest waterfall in North America east of the Mississippi River and south of Niagara Falls.  Paddling over the falls is illegal, but it has been done.  Dane Jackson and Nick Troutman ran the falls in March of 2016, and got fined for their trouble:



I didn't want to get fined, and I also didn't want to destroy my composite surf ski, so I was happy to behold the falls from the overlooks on the river-right bank.  I read some of the informational placards posted there, and my favorite fact was this: the Cumberland River was named in 1758 by an explorer named Thomas Walker.  He named it the Cumberland River because "the crooked nature of the river reminded him of the Duke of Cumberland."

I always like to do a recovery paddle the day after a race, and the stretch of river upstream of the falls appeared to be deep and flat and entirely suitable for this purpose.  I put in and paddled upriver toward the stone bridge that carries Kentucky Route 90 over the river.  Once I was above this bridge I realized that I had not scouted the area as well as I should have: the river there flowed over a series of rocky ledges and shoals, making it impassable for my surf ski.  So I had only a half-mile piece of river to paddle on.  In the end it was no big deal, since I was paddling easy for just a half-hour.  I ended up ferrying back and forth across the river, letting the blood flow through my race-ravaged muscles.