With the cancellation of this year’s Green Race in North Carolina for the first time since its inception more than two decades ago due to wreckage from Hurricane Helene, many area paddlers have waxed poetic about the loss of such a kayaking treasure. Perhaps none more eloquent than the following ode to the Green River Narrows by local boater Chris Gragtmans, which we bring to you in its entirety below:
“Friends, I wrote some words last week, and the organizers of The Green Race allowed me to read them at the festival after Becca Ploener led us in a beautiful breathwork/somatic imagery practice. I guess it’s a poem, though I’m not sure if I’ve ever written poetry before. I felt compelled to share with our virtual village as well
I’m going to try to make it through this Class V rapid without turning into a yardsale. But I wrote something for you. And here it is:
In case you don’t know me, I’m Chris and I am a washed up, arthritic, DadbodSquad, diehard pupil of this incredible place. I first slid into these waters when I was 13 years old, and I haven’t been the same since. With reverence to the human pain and loss that our region is experiencing, I’m finally giving myself permission to feel the loss of this river as I (and we) have known her. We are all feeling the weight of not being able to go to our most sacred tabernacle to access that conveyor belt of flow and work out life’s problems. It’s a place where we plumb the wilderness within and seek answers. This time, Mother Nature did what she does, and evolved.
We’ve always said to each other when scouting these massive rapids… “it’ll be there.” We used these words as a way to engender purity of intention and action. But this time it won’t be there the way it always has. This river will never be the same again, and we won’t either. And it’s time to say goodbye to what was. We are being called to sit with this until we are ready… it can’t be rushed. It is heartbreaking to see this place that has seen us all through so much in our lives ripped from our grasp and ravaged nearly beyond recognition.
But even in her destroyed state, the Green gives us so much… because she has given us each other. And we’re gathering one more time together on this first Saturday in November. We don’t know exactly what the future holds, but we’re going to send the Green that we knew off in style.
I invite you to hold hands or put your arms around each other… whatever you are comfortable with. The time has now come to say goodbye to a place that we love. None of us ever thought this day would arrive, but we are here, and we are here together.
What does the Green mean to me? I know exactly where to begin… it’s dancing downstream in the runout with the Great Blue Herons, it’s the prayer that I’ve said on the switchbacks before every run since I was a kid, it’s crammed shuttle rides, it’s sledding down the put-in trail in the winter, it’s the Women’s Takeover and their shuttle bunnies, it’s that first time plunging into Hammer Factor, it’s Jesse Wilensky barebacking any time of year, it’s the wisdom of Keith Sprinkle, it’s KLCG, it’s TDub, it’s Saluda Boyz, it’s DEMSHITZ, it’s the benchmark against which everything else is measured, it’s the testing grounds for the best and toughest products on Earth, it’s the holy water that has cleansed my soul for decades and thousands of runs, it’s my best friends on the planet, it’s riding the lightning, it’s chasing my heroes, it’s that sleepless Friday night every year, it’s Jason Hale’s pre-race speeches, it’s one chance a year to chase my potential, it’s Tommy Hilleke keeping us safe, it’s staring that Notch down, it’s Zach Dean cheering on his sparkle princess, it’s Dane crashing through that four minute wall, it’s bragging rights, it’s that effortless left Sunshine line, it’s not one piece of trash the day after the race, it’s where I learned confidence, it’s where I learned humility, its flow redirected our lives, it’s paying it forward to the next generation, not paying our mentors back, it’s the inner sanctum, it’s lore, it’s legend, it’s the ashes of our friends in the eddies and in the cliffs, it’s the sun streaming through the leaves, it’s us, it’s all of us!!
This is our river and she’s wounded and confused. And her pain paralyzes our souls. What was thought to be an eternal temple and covenant has shattered before our eyes, and leaves us adrift and listless.
There will be time to find the sprouts of green amongst the destruction, but don’t force it. This wreckage is fertile ground, and it is tilled by each of our individual memories that may feel in this moment like crushing losses.
The Gorilla didn’t go down without a fight, but you know what? She’s hurt; she ain’t dead. Those are holy waters in there, and they’re going to keep flowing through time. Our ancestors saw a different river than we did, and our children and grandchildren will see a different one than we are looking at right now. And all rivers eventually meet the sea.
As we stand here together, I invite you to think about just how ****** lucky we are. We got to experience that river in that combination of rapids and moves. It was ****** poetry in motion, and we each wrote our own verse. The deep metronomes of the Earth beat like a drum in this landscape… the ebb and flow of the water, the turn of the seasons, our breaths, our hearts beating, our paddle strokes, our cheers echoing off the granite walls, our joys, our sorrows, the lives of our fragile and temporary human bodies.
So as we gaze to the horizon and a New Dawn, all I can think to do is howl at the moon. And you’re welcome to make some noise with me. Let’s send Mama Green off right tonight. Howl like you just jumped naked into the frigid water, like you watched someone roll up coming off the pad, like you just finished the race run of your life, like you did when you first ran the monkey, like the frogmen just made an amazing rescue, like you just watched Adriene pass Hale, like you got given the most beautiful gift of this river and these people. We are tough stock here. We have one life to live, and this flood hasn’t made us fall apart, we’ve fallen together! Joke’s on you Helene. WE are the STORM!!!!!!
Hoooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwoooooooooooo!”