A great New experience, by Gauley

FAYETTEVILLE, W.Va. -- The chilly morning mist envelops the old bus as it grinds along the corkscrew of asphalt through the hollow and down to the river bank. Forty anxious rafters squirm in their sausage-casing-tight wetsuits, for the moment as concerned about the traction of the tires on the steep, tight turns and damp leaves as they are about the watery adventure awaiting at the end of the road.

Rafters on the New River approach the New River Gorge Bridge, the world's longest single-span, steel-arch bridge and the second-highest bridge in the United State. (David Bear)

The New River, which twists and turns north down from North Carolina's stubby Appalachians and across the southeast corner of West Virginia, is grossly misnamed. Rather than new, it is old, exceedingly old. In fact, though there are various methods of dating a river's age, the New is widely regarded to be the planet's second-oldest river, after the Nile.

Water has been coursing through this approximate channel for at least 65 million years and perhaps up to 320 million years, making the river's bed older by far than this latest edition of mountains around and through which it flows.

For 66 of its West Virginia miles, from the dam at Bluestone Lake to where it meets with the Gauley River to form the Kanawha, the New has gouged a gorge up to 1,300 feet deep and a mile across.

Over that length, the river drops an average of 11 feet per mile, tumbling over dozens of daunting rapids and boiling around boulders as big as PAT buses.

The impressive dimensions of the tree-lined gorge long ago earned it bragging rights as the "Grand Canyon of the East," albeit a grand canyon with rail lines along both banks and coal patch settlements every several miles.

A prime east/west artery of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, the valley was ridden hard for decades and harvested of whatever natural resources it could produce.

In October 1977, however, that situation began to change.

Before then, crossing the chasm was a formidable barrier to north/south traffic. That year West Virginia's State Highway Department finished a four-lane highway bridge over the gorge, near the town of Fayetteville, completing a gap in U.S. 19.

Just over 3,000 feet end to end, the New River Gorge Bridge still ranks as the world's longest single-span, steel-arch bridge and, rising nearly 900 feet over the river, the second-highest bridge in the United States.

The following year, the New was designated a National Historic River, and 53 miles of its gorge, along with several side valleys, were set aside for the benefit and enjoyment of future generations.

		If you go: The New River Gorge is an easy four-hour drive from the Pittsburgh area down I-79 to U.S. 19 South toward Fayetteville and Beckley. Bridge Day 2000 is Saturday October 21, but plan to arrive the night before, as highway closures create major tie-ups. Though there are no major hotels, the area has numerous B&B's and camping facilities. For information call: The Fayette Chamber of Commerce: 800-927-0263 or www.newriver cvb.com. New River Gorge National Park: 304-465-0508 or www.nps.gov/neri/ home.htm. We rode with Class VI River Runners (800-252-7784 or www.800classvi.com) and have no hesitation recommending either their services our guides. Other outfitters also serve the New River Gorge. They include: Ace Whitewater: 800-SURF-WVA Appalachian Wildwater: 800-624-8060 Cantrell Ultimate Rafting: 800-470-RAFT Class VI River Runners: 800-CLASSVI Drift A Bit:800-633-RAFT Mountain River Tours: 800-822-1FUN New River Scenic Whitewater Tours: 800-292-0880 North American River Runners: 800-950-2585 Rivermen: 800-545-RAFT Rivers: 800-879-7483 Songer Whitewater: 800-356-RAFT USA Raft: 800-346-RAFT Raft WV/Whitewater Information: 800-782-7238 Wildwater Expeditions Unlimited: 800-WVARAFT For other things to do in West Virginia - -- David Bear

Since then, New River Gorge has become a recreational magnet, with natural advantages and easy access that draw outdoor enthusiasts and athletic adventurers from afar for hiking, camping, horse trails, rock-climbing and, most notably, whitewater rafting.

In fact, the New River and the nearby Gauley River are widely ranked as the top whitewater rafting opportunities east of the Rockies, attracting several hundred thousand rafters each season.

From late March, when winter water levels on the New fall to levels safe enough to permit passage, to mid-October, when the water gets too low, 15 miles of the lower New are studded daily with wave after wave of rubber rafts, canoes and kayaks negotiating their way through several dozen named rapids, which range from Class I through V.

The Gauley River is shorter and steeper, especially the section downstream from the Summersville Dam. When spring rains or drawdowns from the dam on six fall weekends fill its basin, the Gauley becomes a continuous roller coaster flume ride studded with more than 100 rapids ranked Class III to V-plus, with ominous sounding names like Five Boat Hole, Mash, Rattlesnake and Pure Screaming Hell.

A minute or two before 8 on a Saturday morning last October, we hoisted the six long rafts off the trailers and eased them into the New. Though the sun had already been up nearly two hours, it had yet to make its way into the gorge, and the cool mist that blanketed the water soon set rafters' teeth chattering, despite wetsuits and cover-ups.

Each of the self-bailing, Class VI River Runner rafts held seven paddlers and a guide, and after practicing a few basic maneuvers, we set off seeking a sunny patch on the water. We were paddlers with a mission. In addition to finding warmth, we wanted to cover the 12 miles downstream to the bridge by lunchtime to witness a once a year occurrence.

Since it was the middle of a long, dry spell and the last weekend of the rafting season, the water level was low. There was more than enough to keep us moving, but the string of rapids and riffles we glided through lacked much of their juice, and we had nary a hairy moment the entire way.

The paddling was pleasant, and our guide's insights about the New River valley and its history were more than engaging, but we never even came close to having anyone fall out of the raft. Once the sun burned through the mist, folks were stripping down the tops of their rubber suits, and looking for excuses to get wet.

But what the season had subtracted from the ride's thrills, it repaid in gorgeous grandeur. Though still a week shy of peak leaf color, our journey was a three-hour passage through a pastoral panorama. Each river bend unveiled a fresh angle of light and a new variation on the tapestry of russet and rouge reddening the green slopes, highlighting the sandstone and shale and obscuring the old industrial scars. It's safe to say the New River Gorge hasn't looked this good in 150 years.

Nearing noon, when the great span of the bridge began to appear before and above us, a rare sight was revealed.

Viewed from a vehicle while riding over it, the New River Gorge Bridge offers impressive vistas of this vertiginous valley.

Viewed from a raft passing 300 yards beneath it, the New River Gorge Bridge is itself an impressive vista, a fine filigree of steel arching more than a third of a mile between two graceful towers.

How much more dramatic to witness person after person take flying leaps off the bridge's midsection? To watch a dozen daredevils dangling in the void beneath the bridge, rising and falling on gossamer strands like web-spinning spiders?

The third Saturday in every October is Bridge Day, the one time each year when the highway's two northbound lanes are closed to vehicles for eight hours and opened to pedestrians, in what must be the world's most elevated street fair. Food and craft booths blossom along the approaches to the bridge, and upwards of 100,000 visitors take the opportunity to stroll across its length and admire the view, with its fine fall colors.

Dozens of them climb over the railing and jump off.

No, it's not a mass suicide. Bridge Day is a major event for BASE jumpers and rappelling types from across North America and around the world. (The acronym "BASE" stands for the four kinds of objects from which jumpers leap -- buildings, antennas, spans and earth formations. When a person has made at least one jump from each category, he is eligible for a BASE number.)

For people who enjoy the adrenaline rush of leaping from great heights and free-falling as far as they dare before popping open their flexible wing parachutes and gliding to earth, the bridge is a unparalleled platform. One can plummet for several seconds and still have enough height left to maneuver for a safe landing on the boulder-strewn strip of river bank far below, or that failing, hopefully in the river itself, to be rescued by waiting watercraft. What you don't want to do is crash into the bridge piers, come down in the trees, or do a face plant on the railroad tracks, especially not when a train is going by.

A side profile of the support structure of the New River Gorge Bridge. (David Bear)

Compared to that, the rappelling looks simple. Just climb down under the bridge, fix your line to the super structure, let yourself slide down to the river, and then mount this manmade Everest, enjoying what must be a superb view along the way.

In fact, until several years ago, people also bungee-jumped over the side on Bridge Day, a practice that was stopped because it took too long to winch them back to the top.

Seen from below, the experience takes on a carnival atmosphere, tinged with a backdrop of danger. Ranks of rafters and other spectators line the river banks as waves of jumpers appear at the bridge's railing and hurl themselves over the edge, falling toward you for two, three, four, five seconds, sometimes until disaster seems imminent, before they get jerked up tight beneath their colorful kites, gaining control of their descent and making a two-point landing on the rocks to the oohs and ahs of appreciative spectators.

Or maybe not.

In previous years, jumpers have crashed onto rafters' lunches, but nothing that exciting happened to us. In the two hours we watched the show, we saw only three people taken away in ambulances. The rest were bused back to the top to have another go.

The consensus among the paddlers in our raft was that, while BASE jumping was not something we were inclined to try, it certainly made for a unique spectator sport.

The take-out point for the rafts was only a mile downstream from the bridge, and we were back at the Class VI operations base by 3 p.m. and signed up for a run at the Gauley River the following day. Since the bridge closing still had traffic impossibly snarled, we took the opportunity to hike up and have a look for ourselves.

A BASE jumper parachutes from the New River Gorge Bridge on Bridge Day, which is the third Sunday in October every year. (David Bear)

Although it was still a half-hour before the bridge was set to reopen to traffic, the crowds were already much diminished. So we scooted out to the BASE jumping platform and peered over the rail down to where we had lunched. Or at least where we thought we'd lunched, for though even directly below, it was too far away to be sure. Though not recommended for acrophobics, midspan on the New River Gorge Bridge is definitely an awesome place to be.

Jumping off it is entirely another matter.

We were also glad to have the opportunity to see the bridge from another angle, at sunset from the deck at Smokey's on the Gorge, the new dining pavilion at the Class VI River Runner's base. As the dusk gathered over the quieting gorge, the day's last rays illuminated the span, transforming its steely supports into a web of golden thread. Nice special effect.

Sunday morning started a bit later, as our trip down the Gauley was scheduled to meet at 10 a.m., providing time for a leisurely breakfast and an opportunity to contemplate the day's activities.

Although the dry weather had tamed the New, the Gauley River was another matter. Steeper and shorter than the New, the Gauley is largely regulated by the Summersville Dam. In spring and early summer, snowmelt and rainfall keep it roaring along.

And on six fall weekends (this year, Sept. 8 to Oct. 15) water is released from the dam between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. Friday through Monday, making the Gauley North America's premier stretch of Fall whitewater.

The river is generally run in two sections. The upper stretch runs 11 miles down from the dam. This is no outing for the uninitiated. It's big water and constant rapids, with raging hydraulics and whirlpools that can suck the boat right out from under even experienced river runners.

We opted for the somewhat gentler Lower Gauley, a 17-mile excursion with its own abundance of aqueous adventure, long wave trains, fierce flumes, steep drops and gaping water holes so deep they can fold an eight-seat raft in half like a taco shell. On one of these, our craft buckled backward, launching our brawny guide several feet in the air. Fortunately, we were able to get him back into the raft before entering the next rapid.

That's the way it goes on the Gauley, mile after mile of minutes-long, adrenaline-generating stretches of furious paddling interspersed with calmer patches that gave everyone a chance to catch their breath, prepare for the next challenge and perhaps enjoy the scenery. Though not nearly as deep as New River Gorge, the Gauley has cut a canyon with sheer rock walls and cascading side streams.

After four hours, we were both exhausted and mellow, and as the late October afternoon shadows deepened, a chilly shiver spread through our limbs. It was great to see the yellow bus waiting for us at the take-out point, and even better to crack open a cold beer in its warm confines. We were already conceiving plans for a return visit.

After all, there's still the Upper Gauley to run, and we were whitewater novices no longer.