Yellow Breeches Creek, Cumberland County, Pennsylvania
Mt. Holly Springs to Williams Grove (11 miles)
February 6, 2004

OC1 - Topher Reynolds, Tom Wilhelm, Mike McCrea

My first trip on the Yellow Breeches was also my first trip ever in
which I didn't drive to or from or set a shuttle. I can understand
how I've managed to always have vehicular responsibilities over 30
years of paddling roadtrips, but I have no excuse for having missed
this fine spring-fed trout stream in that time.

Although Yellow Breeches Creek is only an hour away from north
Baltimore County Tom picked me up 3 hours before our scheduled arrival
at the put in, which left ample time for some zizzing of van tires on
my still snow covered driveway and time enough to scout out a diner
breakfast en route.

A walking NASCAR billboard with a Dale Earnhardt fixation in Boiling
Springs directed us to the local choice for morning diner grub.
Directions that were both promising "It's right next to the tractor
store" and fraught with misadventure "You can't miss it".

For a change we really couldn't miss it and after a reasonable caf=E9
breakfast we were off to meet Topher at the Mt. Holly Springs put in.
Topher arrived timely as ever, mixed up a batch of energy drink mimosas
(caffeine for the buzz, champagne to sooth the jitters) and shuttle was
set.

Pushing off from Mt. Holly Springs we had all means of propulsion
covered as Tom single bladed, I double bladed and Topher literally
stepped off the bank and commenced poling - a stance he would
relinquish only when shooting the dams and millraces.

There were, if I remember correctly, four dams along this stretch, all
of them low-consequence runnable at the day's level. Arriving at the
first dam we stopped to scout. Topher announced his intention to run
it. I pondered: well defined entrance tongue, moderate hydraulic at the
bottom, bony run out followed by a hard left where the current swept
the right bank. I'd need to carry enough speed off the dam to escape
the hydraulic, hit the brakes, thread the bony section and avoid the
pushy bit on river right.

Calculating a 90% probability of running it upright (and a 50%
probability of running it cleanly) I elected to portage. Who wants to
start a trip wet?

Taking station below the dam with camera and throwbag I snapped a photo
of Topher's flawless passage. Here comes Tom, he's in the tongue
and looking good (well, his line look good - Tom looks like Tom and is
best photographed in soft focus through a diaphanous haze). Off the
drop he comes, I snap a photo; the shutter opens and I see that he
doesn't have quite enough forward speed. The hydraulic snatches his
stern, gives a little twist and everything's better when wet.

I grab the throwrope but no need, Topher poles up to assist with boat
and gear retrieval. At least Tom had the presence of mind to let me
hold his Camels before splashdown, so the smokes are still dry and the
only consequence of the swim are a broken stern seat and Tom's
reluctance to put on his dry clothes this early in the trip, as another
swim would mean donning the loaner spares from my drybag; a choice of
either the Salvation Army clown suit or the lime green bridesmaid's
gown. Tom elects to stay wet for now.

Continuing downstream we paused for a leg stretcher in Boiling Springs,
with a lovely town commons surrounding a large spring-fed basin
reminiscent of some north Florida spring locales. Back afloat we passed
a passel of trout fishermen in the next mile and then once again had
the Breeches all to ourselves.

Somewhere in there I vaguely recall another dam, millrace or drop. Or
maybe two. But only one is remembered with any clarity.

A riverwide dam face shallow enough to beach the boats atop and scout.
The sluice is river left, but the concrete spillway features a ski-jump
kick up at the end. Once again, Topher will run it. No place to
portage, so Tom and I will line our boats through.

I line the canoe down and paddle across to river left for a photo op.
Tom ropes up to the stern of his canoe and begins to line the boat down
the sluice. I snap a quick photo and begin stuffing the Nikon back in
the drybag.

A sudden burst of Topher laughter makes me look up and what to my
wondering eyes should appear? Tom's canoe, careening towards me. Tom
standing atop the dam, forlornly holding onto one end of a rope, the
other end attached to nothing, bitter end flopping loosely in the
sluice. Tom had tied what is commonly known as a not.

* 3/8" kernmantle rope -$12.95

* Idiots Guide to Knots and Hitches - $22.99

* The look on Tom's face when the lining rope de-knotted from his canoe
and the boat floated off without him - Priceless.

I bulldoze Tom's freefloating canoe over to river right, mentally
remarking on what clean and upright lines the Uberboat is capable of
running without Tom's interfering assistance. Tom tosses me his
throwbag, I fish a 'biner out of my PFD pocket, clip around the bow
loop and Tom retrieves his runaway.

A bit more creek, a bankside stretch and smoke and we arrive at the
take out conveniently located beside a roadhouse with Yuengling on tap.
A round of beers, some bad jokes with the locals and we're off to
fetch the upstream vehicle before enjoying a delicious dinner at
Pakhais Thai House in Dillsburg (hint - BYOB and let Topher order for
everyone).

Tom drove and bought me breakfast. Topher drove and bought us dinner.
There were various treats along the river including the first Duckhead
swim of the year and lessons in not tying. To quote Spongebob "It was
the best day ever!"

Thanks Tom. Thanks Topher. Lets do it again soon. Taylors Island
Passages. My treat.

The Breeches is a fine little Class I stream. Our club uses it to train the
beginners class every spring. Almost always runnable due to being spring
fed, and can be fun when it's up to 4 or 5 feet. Highly recommended for a
nice lazy float.
wrote in message
ups.com...
Yellow Breeches Creek, Cumberland County, Pennsylvania
Mt. Holly Springs to Williams Grove (11 miles)
February 6, 2004

OC1 - Topher Reynolds, Tom Wilhelm, Mike McCrea

My first trip on the Yellow Breeches was also my first trip ever in
which I didn't drive to or from or set a shuttle. I can understand
how I've managed to always have vehicular responsibilities over 30
years of paddling roadtrips, but I have no excuse for having missed
this fine spring-fed trout stream in that time.

Although Yellow Breeches Creek is only an hour away from north
Baltimore County Tom picked me up 3 hours before our scheduled arrival
at the put in, which left ample time for some zizzing of van tires on
my still snow covered driveway and time enough to scout out a diner
breakfast en route.

A walking NASCAR billboard with a Dale Earnhardt fixation in Boiling
Springs directed us to the local choice for morning diner grub.
Directions that were both promising "It's right next to the tractor
store" and fraught with misadventure "You can't miss it".

For a change we really couldn't miss it and after a reasonable café
breakfast we were off to meet Topher at the Mt. Holly Springs put in.
Topher arrived timely as ever, mixed up a batch of energy drink mimosas
(caffeine for the buzz, champagne to sooth the jitters) and shuttle was
set.

Pushing off from Mt. Holly Springs we had all means of propulsion
covered as Tom single bladed, I double bladed and Topher literally
stepped off the bank and commenced poling - a stance he would
relinquish only when shooting the dams and millraces.

There were, if I remember correctly, four dams along this stretch, all
of them low-consequence runnable at the day's level. Arriving at the
first dam we stopped to scout. Topher announced his intention to run
it. I pondered: well defined entrance tongue, moderate hydraulic at the
bottom, bony run out followed by a hard left where the current swept
the right bank. I'd need to carry enough speed off the dam to escape
the hydraulic, hit the brakes, thread the bony section and avoid the
pushy bit on river right.

Calculating a 90% probability of running it upright (and a 50%
probability of running it cleanly) I elected to portage. Who wants to
start a trip wet?

Taking station below the dam with camera and throwbag I snapped a photo
of Topher's flawless passage. Here comes Tom, he's in the tongue
and looking good (well, his line look good - Tom looks like Tom and is
best photographed in soft focus through a diaphanous haze). Off the
drop he comes, I snap a photo; the shutter opens and I see that he
doesn't have quite enough forward speed. The hydraulic snatches his
stern, gives a little twist and everything's better when wet.

I grab the throwrope but no need, Topher poles up to assist with boat
and gear retrieval. At least Tom had the presence of mind to let me
hold his Camels before splashdown, so the smokes are still dry and the
only consequence of the swim are a broken stern seat and Tom's
reluctance to put on his dry clothes this early in the trip, as another
swim would mean donning the loaner spares from my drybag; a choice of
either the Salvation Army clown suit or the lime green bridesmaid's
gown. Tom elects to stay wet for now.

Continuing downstream we paused for a leg stretcher in Boiling Springs,
with a lovely town commons surrounding a large spring-fed basin
reminiscent of some north Florida spring locales. Back afloat we passed
a passel of trout fishermen in the next mile and then once again had
the Breeches all to ourselves.

Somewhere in there I vaguely recall another dam, millrace or drop. Or
maybe two. But only one is remembered with any clarity.

A riverwide dam face shallow enough to beach the boats atop and scout.
The sluice is river left, but the concrete spillway features a ski-jump
kick up at the end. Once again, Topher will run it. No place to
portage, so Tom and I will line our boats through.

I line the canoe down and paddle across to river left for a photo op.
Tom ropes up to the stern of his canoe and begins to line the boat down
the sluice. I snap a quick photo and begin stuffing the Nikon back in
the drybag.

A sudden burst of Topher laughter makes me look up and what to my
wondering eyes should appear? Tom's canoe, careening towards me. Tom
standing atop the dam, forlornly holding onto one end of a rope, the
other end attached to nothing, bitter end flopping loosely in the
sluice. Tom had tied what is commonly known as a not.

* 3/8" kernmantle rope -$12.95

* Idiots Guide to Knots and Hitches - $22.99

* The look on Tom's face when the lining rope de-knotted from his canoe
and the boat floated off without him - Priceless.

I bulldoze Tom's freefloating canoe over to river right, mentally
remarking on what clean and upright lines the Uberboat is capable of
running without Tom's interfering assistance. Tom tosses me his
throwbag, I fish a 'biner out of my PFD pocket, clip around the bow
loop and Tom retrieves his runaway.

A bit more creek, a bankside stretch and smoke and we arrive at the
take out conveniently located beside a roadhouse with Yuengling on tap.
A round of beers, some bad jokes with the locals and we're off to
fetch the upstream vehicle before enjoying a delicious dinner at
Pakhais Thai House in Dillsburg (hint - BYOB and let Topher order for
everyone).

Tom drove and bought me breakfast. Topher drove and bought us dinner.
There were various treats along the river including the first Duckhead
swim of the year and lessons in not tying. To quote Spongebob "It was
the best day ever!"

Thanks Tom. Thanks Topher. Lets do it again soon. Taylors Island
Passages. My treat.

wrote:
Yellow Breeches Creek, Cumberland County, Pennsylvania
Mt. Holly Springs to Williams Grove (11 miles)
February 6, 2004

OC1 - Topher Reynolds, Tom Wilhelm, Mike McCrea

My first trip on the Yellow Breeches was also my first trip ever in
which I didn't drive to or from or set a shuttle. I can understand
how I've managed to always have vehicular responsibilities over 30
years of paddling roadtrips, but I have no excuse for having missed
this fine spring-fed trout stream in that time.

Although Yellow Breeches Creek is only an hour away from north
Baltimore County Tom picked me up 3 hours before our scheduled
arrival
at the put in, which left ample time for some zizzing of van tires on
my still snow covered driveway and time enough to scout out a diner
breakfast en route.

A walking NASCAR billboard with a Dale Earnhardt fixation in Boiling
Springs directed us to the local choice for morning diner grub.
Directions that were both promising "It's right next to the tractor
store" and fraught with misadventure "You can't miss it".

For a change we really couldn't miss it and after a reasonable caf=E9
breakfast we were off to meet Topher at the Mt. Holly Springs put in.
Topher arrived timely as ever, mixed up a batch of energy drink
mimosas
(caffeine for the buzz, champagne to sooth the jitters) and shuttle
was
set.

Pushing off from Mt. Holly Springs we had all means of propulsion
covered as Tom single bladed, I double bladed and Topher literally
stepped off the bank and commenced poling - a stance he would
relinquish only when shooting the dams and millraces.

There were, if I remember correctly, four dams along this stretch,
all
of them low-consequence runnable at the day's level. Arriving at the
first dam we stopped to scout. Topher announced his intention to run
it. I pondered: well defined entrance tongue, moderate hydraulic at
the
bottom, bony run out followed by a hard left where the current swept
the right bank. I'd need to carry enough speed off the dam to escape
the hydraulic, hit the brakes, thread the bony section and avoid the
pushy bit on river right.

Calculating a 90% probability of running it upright (and a 50%
probability of running it cleanly) I elected to portage. Who wants to
start a trip wet?

Taking station below the dam with camera and throwbag I snapped a
photo
of Topher's flawless passage. Here comes Tom, he's in the tongue
and looking good (well, his line look good - Tom looks like Tom and
is
best photographed in soft focus through a diaphanous haze). Off the
drop he comes, I snap a photo; the shutter opens and I see that he
doesn't have quite enough forward speed. The hydraulic snatches his
stern, gives a little twist and everything's better when wet.

I grab the throwrope but no need, Topher poles up to assist with boat
and gear retrieval. At least Tom had the presence of mind to let me
hold his Camels before splashdown, so the smokes are still dry and
the
only consequence of the swim are a broken stern seat and Tom's
reluctance to put on his dry clothes this early in the trip, as
another
swim would mean donning the loaner spares from my drybag; a choice of
either the Salvation Army clown suit or the lime green bridesmaid's
gown. Tom elects to stay wet for now.

Continuing downstream we paused for a leg stretcher in Boiling
Springs,
with a lovely town commons surrounding a large spring-fed basin
reminiscent of some north Florida spring locales. Back afloat we
passed
a passel of trout fishermen in the next mile and then once again had
the Breeches all to ourselves.

Somewhere in there I vaguely recall another dam, millrace or drop. Or
maybe two. But only one is remembered with any clarity.

A riverwide dam face shallow enough to beach the boats atop and
scout.
The sluice is river left, but the concrete spillway features a
ski-jump
kick up at the end. Once again, Topher will run it. No place to
portage, so Tom and I will line our boats through.

I line the canoe down and paddle across to river left for a photo op.
Tom ropes up to the stern of his canoe and begins to line the boat
down
the sluice. I snap a quick photo and begin stuffing the Nikon back in
the drybag.

A sudden burst of Topher laughter makes me look up and what to my
wondering eyes should appear? Tom's canoe, careening towards me. Tom
standing atop the dam, forlornly holding onto one end of a rope, the
other end attached to nothing, bitter end flopping loosely in the
sluice. Tom had tied what is commonly known as a not.

* 3/8" kernmantle rope -$12.95

* Idiots Guide to Knots and Hitches - $22.99

* The look on Tom's face when the lining rope de-knotted from his
canoe
and the boat floated off without him - Priceless.

I bulldoze Tom's freefloating canoe over to river right, mentally
remarking on what clean and upright lines the Uberboat is capable of
running without Tom's interfering assistance. Tom tosses me his
throwbag, I fish a 'biner out of my PFD pocket, clip around the bow
loop and Tom retrieves his runaway.

A bit more creek, a bankside stretch and smoke and we arrive at the
take out conveniently located beside a roadhouse with Yuengling on
tap.
A round of beers, some bad jokes with the locals and we're off to
fetch the upstream vehicle before enjoying a delicious dinner at
Pakhais Thai House in Dillsburg (hint - BYOB and let Topher order for
everyone).

Tom drove and bought me breakfast. Topher drove and bought us dinner.
There were various treats along the river including the first
Duckhead
swim of the year and lessons in not tying. To quote Spongebob "It was
the best day ever!"

Thanks Tom. Thanks Topher. Lets do it again soon. Taylors Island
Passages. My treat.

Thanks for the good story, makes me remember Spring is just around the
corner. Tnt