The irony that I now write this letter from the director after everything that has transpired since Hurricane Helene is not lost on me. Every time I went to write I hit a huge mental block. Acknowledging the grief that I was grappling with was heavy and laden with trap doors.
I can’t remember who said it, but I remember the saying, “A good storm clears the air.” I had no idea it would be the most catastrophic flood in the history of Western North Carolina. On the morning of September 27, 2024, I received the first of many messages with photos of our outpost underwater. The Green River came out of its riverbanks in the most profound manner. At first, I felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment, thinking, “How could we have not prepared better for this.” No one could, not even close. When that feeling subsided the deep grief returned. I was ready to give up. I had already experienced significant loss over the past several years. After pouring every ounce of my being into the dream since 2012 I lost the most important part of my life: my relationship with my partner. The flood was the last draw. I was literally watching everything we dedicated our lives to vanish in one fell swoop.
What happened next was unexpected. When I shared the photos with our staff, a universal reply that we would build back was apparent. In the words of Kelly Holland, “H2o Dreams is us.” It continued to be affirmed. Daniel Lassiter followed up with, “Everything else is just tools to help do the job. Our staff is what sets us apart from everyone else and is what students seek us out for.”
Right then and there, I knew my place was back in Saluda, helping our community get back to where they needed to be. What transpired over the next three weeks was nothing short of overwhelming. The connections that we made during this time will bond us together for our lifetimes. I can tell you any number of a thousand stories that live rent-free in my mind, and not one word on paper will begin to describe what was felt, shared, and hopefully overcome.
One of the most interesting wrinkles of this story is the survival of parts of our outpost. This flood swept homes off of their foundations, redirected the river into new channels, isolated bridges, and compiled 30-foot-tall drifts of debris and sediment high on the river banks, yet our outpost stood. Completely weathered but mostly intact. When Jordan McDaniel and I started brainstorming our first permanent structure, we had no idea about the year-long journey it would take to build. It was easily the most over-engineered structure in the entire Green River Gorge, and it only housed kayaks. I have no doubt a cascade of events had to transpire to aid in its survival, but again, there it stood. Jordan has become a legend in the Gorge, and could likely have carpentry work for the remainder of his life if he chose, but he still chooses to be at the helm of our operation. I could have asked for no better leader for our first tenured position as our Operations and Program Director. Our staff and students believe in him, and this event and the lore of his structure only further endear him to us.
Of course, we wouldn’t be there in the first place if we had not fostered a relationship with the Grace family. I appreciate the vision and agency they have given our team to grow and call home to our programs. John has spent several hours walking through the riverside plot offering ideas, commending us on execution, providing tremendous bandwidth, and promoting our program. I will gladly support John and Chelsea in future endeavors as they have the savvy and calm of expedition leaders and the minds to promote our backyard and keep it at the forefront of public thought. They took a small race for a group of friends and made it into the most infamous kayak race in the history of paddle sport. I have no doubt that the Green Race will find a new way to persevere, and it will rest on the shoulders of all of the great work that the Grace’s and their team have built for many years. I feel the same loss that they feel, but I believe they will have the same hope.
There are a lot of unspoken heroes from this period as well. I fell into an organizing role with a few others for whom I hold a special place in my heart. Nothing will change the bond that this group has made. Jon Tumas, Mel Ailif, and the ineffable champion of Riverkeepers, Erica Shanks. I don’t know what to say here. These folks just stepped up and did the work for that first week of Hell. Both Tumas and Erica continue to carry that torch, and it has been abundantly clear that Erica Shanks’ deep passion for the Green River will keep this area well-protected and accessible for everyone to enjoy for future generations. I would stand in front of a train for these folks. They are the highest caliber of people I know.
So all that now said, the point of this whole damn letter is, what is the “Future Path” of H2o Dreams Paddling School? I chose the image of the channel maps of the Mississippi well before I ever put any words on paper. As they say, “an image is worth a thousand words.” What I have always loved about this image is that no matter how many different channels the river diverges to, there is one constant: forward. That’s what we will do; we will continue to move forward. After all, H2o Dreams is us. My time and tenure with the school are changing and taking a different shape, and for the sake of the school’s survival, that’s a good thing. I still contribute and teach, but I will settle down into a bit of an eddy for now. The school was built on the premise of a vision and mission, and to live on, it has to move on from its founders; otherwise, it stops moving forward. The new energy in leadership that steps into future roles with our organization and the population of students we serve will help steer it into new channels, but inexorably forward, with the original mission and vision as a guiding light.
We will be back in 2025. H2O Dreams is us.
Behind you Doc!! And H2O Dreams!!