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This account of the early days of Overflow Creek (GA) boater exploration from Robin Sayler is spot on. Robin lived for several years in Highlands, NC, and paddled often with Alan Singley. A tip of the helmet goes out to Bradley for rescuing this exchange I had with Robin several years ago (1998) on the old RBP forum, and attaching it to the AW Overflow Creek page. Bradley, for that I owe you a beer. Will a Pabst do?
Robin, or Mr. Robin as he often signs in order to avoid any gender confusion, now lives in South Georgia and paddles little. He and I (and many others) were members of a virtual subculture whose lives revolved around the Chattooga watershed during the 1970s. Robin led Joe Stubbs and me down Overflow soon after his own adventure on the creek with Alan.
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From Robin:
”Your history is actually pretty good, for such an old geezer as yourself. Have Â
you been taking some vitamins or sumthin?
I'll try to remember my version - to be possibly corrected by the actual Â
victims.
Not long after you ran Big Creek, Ken, Alan Singley entered West Fork Â
history. He had hiked Overflow, Holcomb, and Big Creeks a good deal by then Â
- as well as the north fork Chatooga Sections 1, Zero, Double Zero, and Â
Minus 1, and even Scotsman's Branch. One fine day, I believe in 1975, or maybe Â
1976, he dropped his boating and camping gear off at the culvert bridge, now Â
famous as the Overflow put-in, drove his truck to the West Fork bridge, and Â
hiked back up to spend the night. The next afternoon, about 5 miles and 8 or Â
9 portages later, Alan emerged with wondrous tales of a fantastic whitewater Â
run, with the improbable name of Overflow Creek. The fact that he *soloed*Â Â
the exploratory doesn't surprise anyone who knows Alan.
Alan's spectacular, if somewhat unbelievable, tales fascinated everyone, but Â
failed to gain him a partner for another descent. Undaunted, Alan proceeded Â
on another *solo* run, this time with 5 or 6 portages. Finally he convinced Â
another boater to accompany him, none other than Robert Harrison, an open Â
boater of some renown. Alan and Robert survived, but, alas, Robert's Old Town Â
Tripper was finished, thanks to Pinball. If I recall, Robert made about 7Â Â
portages on that trip. Should have been eight. Robert's account of that Â
descent convinced everyone that Alan Singley was not only crazy, but a menace Â
to society in general, and to paddlers in particular. It was truly amazing to Â
watch Robert's face as he told us of the Terror That Was Overflow. This Â
sufficiently warned everyone, so again Alan could find nobody to paddle Â
Overflow with him. So, typically, he made the 4th descent solo, this time Â
with 4 portages. This was sometime in 1977.
That year Diane and I moved to Highlands, NC, situated on top of the ridge that Â
separates Overflow Creek from the Cullasaja River. I was glad to get Â
re-acquainted with Alan, who previously had introduced me to the Watauga. One Â
fall afternoon, Alan and I were settin' around jus' doin' nuthin' (that's how Â
it is said up there), and he casually mentioned that I ought to 'take a look Â
at' Overflow. Before I knew it, we were crashing through the rhododendrons Â
with our boats, just downstream of the culvert. We put in on this beautiful Â
little gurgling creek, in incredibly beautiful surroundings, and then Alan took Â
off, with me in tow. I can't tell you how many times I followed this young Â
giant, sitting up high in his C-1, down some unforgettable adventure into the Â
unknown, but this was to be the most memorable of them all!
About a mile later, my head was spinning after running some of the most Â
incredible rapids I had ever done. We pulled into an eddy, for the first time Â
since the put-in, and Alan said "what do you think?" I was nearly speechless, Â
but his next sentence struck me dumb! "We're starting to get close to the big Â
drops, so stay close." "Big drops?" I stammered, "What have we been running Â
for the last mile?" He said nothing, but smiled and peeled out. I got really Â
nervous when he eddied out in a few yards, and said "this is a pretty good one Â
- just stay right and you'll be fine". Then he took off, and disappeared Â
over the edge. I thought I'd seen him for the last time. I scrambled out Â
onto a rock and looked at the horizon line, expecting traces of wreckage, and Â
finally saw the tip of his paddle waving. Not wanting to be left, I swallowed Â
hard and . . .
It was unreal! I asked Alan how many times he had run that 15 foot falls, and Â
when he said "Once - today", I knew the name of that drop immediately - Blind Â
Falls.
The rest of the run was like a dream - a whitewater dream. Singley's Falls Â
waited for another day, and we stayed permanently away from Gravity and the Â
Great Marginal Monster.”
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One other, not so well-known fact is that Alan made a first descent of Holcomb Creek, the other (along with Big Creek) tributary of the West Fork of the Chattooga, or at least as far down to near the point where it literally leaps off the mountain. From there he portaged down to the Three Forks and paddled out the West Fork. I recall him describing one pitch as being so narrow and walled in that he had to raise his (C-1) paddle vertically over his head in order to make it through. I'm not positive of the year but 1976 would be close. Another amazing fact is that his dog sometimes accompanied him on these adventures, somehow making it through all the dog hobble, laurel, rhododendron, and around the rock cliffs. Needless to say his dog's tongue was hanging out at the end of the run, as was usually the case for anyone who paddled with Alan.