Georgia Canoe - Kayak Paddlers - South River - Moreland Ave to Bouldercrest Rd.

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South River - Moreland Ave to Bouldercrest Rd.

Articles - Canoe & Kayak Trip Reports

Written by Tom Welander

We stood on the front porch with PFDs and paddles that morning. We were hitting a wall after going through the usual motions to go paddling. An unrelenting blast of wind from the west had taken the proverbial wind out of sails. 30 mph headwind on the Ocoee? No, thanks. Lake Tugaloo? Fuggetaboutit.

What a waste; substantial rain had fallen the day before. It wasn’t until after we conceded the day to household chores that the light bulb went on: this was begging to be “Get to know your watershed day.” There were precious few places to paddle with the wind at our backs and one stood out. We decided to paddle in Atlanta, downstream from our very own plumbing. We scouted our two options. Intrenchment Creek looked utterly inviting. It was tranquil, pretty and, I suppose by the dubious virtue of being immediately downstream of the sewage treatment plant, free of trash. Best of all, access was easy along some quiet, unpopulated (dare I say “country”) roads.

A sign from the city of Atlanta boasted of $20 million in recent upgrades to the treatment facility. We nodded in approval. To our noses, it was a credible boast. Next we scouted the South, which was in an altogether different mood that day. It had spiked eight hours prior and was still carrying a load of storm water along at a strong clip. The Forest Park gauge reported 100 cfs. Also in contrast to Intrenchment, the put-ins and take-outs were on major honkin’ thoroughfares.We weighed the pros and cons of each. After more consternation and deliberation, Suzanne dowsed the answer. Gentle Intrenchment Creek was the friendlier of the two options but the paddling pendulum swung elsewhere...toward where the water was.

Putting into the South River at Moreland Avenue had many elements of a commando attack. I hit the emergency flashers and stopped along the curb just long enough drop off Suzanne and toss boats off the car. An ill-advised hasty crossing of six traffic lanes brought me to a driveway at the trucking company across the street. Fire ants bit my toes while I parked, chased my dry top in the wind, and sprinted back across the street toward the boats. It was good to be out of sight and away from the traffic when we carried the boats down and into the cool dank darkness beneath the bridge. We launched and peeled into the zippy river as quickly as we could. Sunshine flashed momentarily as we emerged from beneath Moreland Avenue. And just as quickly, the swift current ushered us into a thick tree canopy that cradled us in a nicer kind of shade. The 15 or 20 foot-wide stream ran straight ahead as far as the eye could see between high vertical banks and a ceiling of leaves. It resembled a canal, a bright green hallway decorated with the occasional plastic grocery sack. It was good. It was alive and beautiful...a triumph of nature over human interference. Our pursuit of deviant behavior was paying dividends once again.

The swift current combined with few eddies made the paddling interesting. One of the attractions along this stretch is the fabled Constitution Lakes complex. I was expecting a chain of lakes. Would you believe it’s actually nothing like the Boundary Waters?? No lakes were visible. Only the GPS could tell we passed that spot on the map.

A deer hopped into the stream just ahead of us, and crossed with more alarm and difficulty than it had anticipated. Fumbling, I managed to get a photo of its unrecognizable bum; there’s another one of those for the scrapbook. Passing the confluence of Intrenchment Creek brought us into our neighborhood’s watershed. I let the triumphant feeling of being reunited with our very own DNA linger for a moment or two. Some men’s voices above and beyond the tall banks called to one another, hurried and insistent. Whoever it was, they were up to something at least as mischievous as we were, so we shushed each other and laid low until their car engines gunned and sped away.

There are three or four shoals between Intrenchment Creek and I-285, and a nice little boof spot on the downstream side of the interstate. The stream had no objectionable odor except where these drops aerated the water; at those places the smell of effluent and chlorine was similar to the metro Chattahoochee. It was all fun and games until I got splashed in the mouth while carving a wave in the chute below the Bouldercrest bridge. Then I was ready to call it a day. Our take-out was a wooded stretch along River Road, just downstream of Bouldercrest. A road sign at this makeshift access point promotes a sediment removal project executed jointly by the Corps of Engineers and Dekalb County. What remains of that abandoned enterprise is a rusting rig—a small barge of some sort that used to float but is now scuttled in the river, leaking enough petroleum to leave a sheen spanning the river from bank to bank. Hopefully, it will get dealt with soon.

By Tom Welander
From The Eddy Line, July 2008