x0x Canoeing on the Coruh

By Ibrahim Yogurtcu

I cannot remember how many times I have seen the Coruh, but what I do
know is that each time I have felt fresh excitement, particularly when
watching people pit their skills against its wild waters. The Coruh
River in Turkey's northeastern province of Artvin is one of the best
rivers in the world for rafting and canoeing. After the World Rafting
Championship was held here in 1993, the number of people coming here
to enjoy these sports soared dramatically. In recent years it has
become a common sight to see canoeing on the various branches of the
Coruh, such as the Barhal River in Yusufeli. Canoeing is still not a
well-known sport in Turkey, and most of those who come are foreigners,
such as David, who has been coming to Yusufeli every summer for over
ten years. The local people say affectionately that he has become one
of them, and look forward to his arrival each year. David is an
experienced professional canoer who has been ranked in numerous
international competitions, and as an instructor accompanies groups of
European tourists for canoeing expeditions in Turkey.

The Coruh is ideal for white river canoeing, with its rapid waters
flowing through some of the deepest gorges in Turkey for 354
kilometres before crossing the frontier into Georgia for the final 22
kilometres to the Black Sea. The enormous length of its course through
mountainous terrain makes the region one of great importance for water
sports. The river rises in the Mescit Mountains, and is joined in turn
by its principal tributaries, the Barhal, Oltu, and Berta, the latter
river joining the Coruh just north of the provincial capital of
Artvin. Particularly during the spring, when the river is swollen with
melting snow, the raging water heightens the excitement of canoeing.

Canoeing, which today forms several categories in the Olympic Games,
was first developed as a sport by the Scotsman John MacGregor. The
International Canoeing Society established in 1924 became the
International Canoeing Federation in 1936. To the uninitiated canoeing
might appear deceptively simple, but in fact it takes several years to
become proficient.

It is impossible to battle successfully with the turbulent water
without rigorous training, but having once tasted the exhilaration of
this sport, you will be hooked for life. We were eager to complete our
preparations and reach the Coruh as soon as possible, to enjoy hours
of excitement negotiating the rapids. We carefully loaded the canoes
onto the minibus first, followed by the rest of our equipment.

Everything fitted neatly into place, the result of years of
experience. I was charged with the job of shopping, and rushed happily
off to the grocery store. With the ten of us seated again, we drove
away from Yusufeli along the road which follows the course of the
Barhal, and began to climb into the mountains. Far off the Altiparmak
Mountains could be seen, which meant that we were still in the Black
Sea region, but here was none of that luxuriant vegetation
characteristic of the coast.

Instead the scenery around us was predominatly painted in tones of
yellow, a typical sign of the continental climate of the interior,
walled off from the coast by the Eastern Black Sea Mountains. The
road, which faithfully follows the course of the river for most of the
way, brought us to our starting point in nearly two hours. Because
this stretch of the river is narrower than that downstream it flows
more swiftly, enhancing the excitement of canoeing. Having floated our
canoes and set out, we were soon delighted at the number of rapids.

When we approached a large waterfall, however, David went ahead to
check out the currents and decide which way we should go. For the
benefit of the unexperienced members of the team, he repeated his
instructions several times. I saw David drop over the waterfall, and
for an instant only his oars were visible in the air. The others
followed David over the fall one by one, the canoes making a colourful
sight as they were swept along. David gathered the group together in
the pool at the foot of the fall, only to discover that one of the
novices was missing.

He immediately headed for the spot where the canoeist had disappeared
beneath the surface of the water, preparing a rescue rope as he
advanced. But as we watched, holding our breath in apprehension, our
companion bobbed to the surface, and we all sighed with relief. As we
were swept downstream we frequently passed old hanging bridges and
traditional Artvin houses made of wood with sheet metal roofs. At one
point on the route a minibus on its way to the alpine pasture of Hevek
stopped beside the river for a few minutes to watch us curiously. I
had not had any lessons in canoeing, but as a child I had acquired a
skill which stood me in good stead when I tried my hand at the sport:
floating on inner tyres. Now I took the opportunity to demonstrate my
virtuosity in this respect.

Setting a broad plank of wood on top of an inner tyre, and seating
myself comfortably upon this primitive raft, I floated gently on a
shallow and calm stretch of water near to Yusufeli. The sight must
have been entertaining, as our expedition concluded with laughter all
round.

* Ibrahim Yogurtcu is a photographer.