DUCKTOWN, TENN. --The sound precedes the fury on a whitewater river.
You hear the rapids before you see them.
A distant, steady hiss grows to an ominous, low-pitched howl. Then as the current accelerates and the riffles boil into wild, white surf, the howl stirs to a deafening roar.
On this Sunday, the Ocoee River was a constant roar.
With 39 world-class rapids in a 10-mile stretch near the Tennessee-Georgia border, the Ocoee is considered one of the world's great whitewater rivers.
The river has carved through the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains in southeastern Tennessee for millions of years, snaking past majestic limestone bluffs and the vast woodlands of the Cherokee National Forest.
But at this moment the scenery was the last thing on our minds. We might as well have been rafting Bayou St. John or the New York sewer system.
All eyes were locked on the water, in particular the roiling froth that awaited 25 yards downstream. The infamous rapid known as Torpedo had the complete and undivided attention of all six people in our 12-foot inflatable raft that, as we approached the menacing boil, appeared much smaller now than it did on land.
We had negotiated the river's first nine miles without incident and, at this point, were feeling rather cocksure in our whitewater abilities.
In other words, we never had a chance.
The raft plunged four feet into the swirling abyss, bounced to the right, then plummeted sideways over another ledge and slammed into a churning white hydraulic. In a flash, five bodies -- all except the guide -- catapulted into the rushing water.
Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, we bobbed to the surface, thanks to our personal flotation devices. The swift current carried us downstream, then spit us into a safe eddy, where our guide, Greg Gibbs, calmly retrieved us into the raft.
Drenched, we gathered our wits. The river had sucked the compass strapped to a colleague's watch band off his wrist. My runner's watch had somehow been switched to "chronogram" mode, a move that requires two button pushes to complete.
The "swim," as rafting enthusiasts call it, was our final, ego-deflating initiation to the world of whitewater rafting.
"The Ocoee is a humbling river," said Gibbs, as his party paddled downstream. "Everyone who rides it has immediate respect for it."
Ocoee: Woweeeeeeee
Few adrenaline rushes match the raw intensity of whitewater rafting. Whether you're tackling the river in a six-person raft or navigating an 8-foot kayak around the VW-sized boulders, the sport offers a visceral experience that overloads the senses.
Most people think of the big water in Colorado, Idaho and Montana when they think of whitewater excitement, but you don't have to trek west to enjoy the fun.
The Southeast holds plenty of world-class whitewater streams, several within a day's drive of New Orleans.
The epicenter is the Appalachian Mountains near the Tennessee-North Carolina-Georgia borders, about an 11-hour drive from south Louisiana. The waters that spring from the mountains and the surrounding foothills are wild, raw and powerful, none more so than the Ocoee.
Many of the rapids on the Ocoee discharge more than 2,000 cubic feet of water per second over the rocks. The Tennessee Valley Authority controls the current by releasing water through two dams located along a 10-mile stretch below Ocoee Lake.
The river's power supplies the surrounding region with electricity and provides enough current to spit a 12-foot-raft with 1,000 pounds of human cargo onto the rocks like a piece of driftwood.
Few rivers can match the Ocoee for sheer nonstop thrills. The upper and middle runs are among the most popular whitewater destinations in the nation and attract visitors from all over the world. The river has been host to several national and international events and was the site of the whitewater kayak and canoeing competitions of the 1996 Atlanta Olympics.
Because of its worldwide fame, the Ocoee has quickly become the Disney World of whitewater rafting. More than 200,000 people raft the river annually, and as many as 8,000 visit in a weekend, although business was inexplicably slow over Memorial Day weekend.
Twenty-three outfitters run rafting businesses on the river, and it's not uncommon for three companies to have rafts navigating the rapids at the same time. Meantime, dozens of kayak and canoe enthusiasts also crowd the river. The shores are lined with sunbathers and sightseers.
"I've rafted many places, and without question the Ocoee is one of the funnest places I've ever been," Griggs said. "The runs are so continuous, it's just one rapid after another."
You get your feet wet literally minutes after the initial put-in on the upper Ocoee. The Class IV Tombstone is followed quickly by the Class IV Mikey's Ledge, then Blue Hole. The river then winds to the Olympic course at the Ocoee Whitewater Center, whose banks are lined with tourists and sightseers.
Gibbs, who has guided trips for Ocoee Rafting Inc. on the Ocoee for 15 years, is an expert at raft gymnastics. He can spin the raft in a 360-degree whirl or send the boat down the surf backward.
Along the way, we "surfed" rapids, a maneuver that allows the raft to enter the rapid from behind and hover in its downstream hydraulic. Two of us also "rode the bull," a sadistic practice that positions a person on the nose of the raft, legs dangling in the current, fists death-gripped around the strap that bridges the vessel's tip. Imagine riding a Brahma bull with five fire hoses blasting you in the face.
Along the way, Gibbs regaled us with tales of his experiences -- an unfortunate rafter stripped completely naked at the bottom of a hydraulic before being spit to shore; two others marooned on a rock at midstream with their boat "tacoed" around the underwater rock, where they left it until the water was turned off a couple of hours later.
"In my younger days, we'd get out and swim the rapids," Gibbs said. "Myself and some of the other guides have swum every rapid in that river, but I don't think I'd do that today."
"This was more fun than anything I did in Colorado," said Todd LeDoux, a rafter from St. Louis. "I don't know how we didn't come out of the boat during Godzilla and Humongous."
'Noli:' More laid-back
Like ice cream, whitewater rafting comes in various flavors. Different rivers offer different experiences.
If the Ocoee is the Disneyland of whitewater, the Nolichucky River is the Louvre. The experience is just as impressive. The aesthetics are different.
Remote and unspoiled, the Nolichucky offers whitewater enthusiasts a more laid-back, peaceful day on the water. That's not to say there aren't thrills. The Nolichucky boasts several Class III and Class IV rapids along its eight-mile route through one of the most scenic gorges in the Southeast.
Tucked along the Tennessee-North Carolina border just north of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, "the Noli" isn't as commercialized or crowded as the Ocoee or other popular whitewater streams like the Pigeon or Nantahala.
If you're looking for solitude and an escape from the rat race, the Nolichucky is the perfect spot. Only a handful of outfitters work the river, and it's possible to go an entire trip without seeing another human besides your fellow rafters. Aside from a stretch that borders a local railroad track, there are few signs of civilization along the river's edge, once roamed by Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone.
The Nolichucky begins at the confluence of the Toe and Cane rivers, whose headwaters are born high on 6,684-foot Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi River. The Noli snakes through a majestic gorge in the Unaka Mountains in Pisgah National Forest
between Poplar, N.C., and Unaka Springs, Tenn.
The vistas are breathtaking. The soaring 600-foot gorge is the deepest east of the Mississippi and is lined by maples, oaks and elms.
The gorge is home to an abundance of wildlife. We saw Canada geese, several species of ducks, an otter and a small copperhead snake that had speared a small bream for lunch. Schools of large trout were plentiful.
The Nolichucky can be navigated in groups, by raft, or the more adventuresome can tackle the waters alone in an 8-foot inflatable kayak known as a "duck."
Riding a duck allows you a more interactive experience with the river. Armed with a 30-minute orientation, even novice rafters can master the basic moves required to maneuver the ducks through the rapids and around boulders.
"It's a natural river, so it's a really different experience from the Ocoee," said Liz McCreary, 25, of Erwin, Tenn., who has guided the river for seven years. "This is a full-day adventure. It's not National Geographic (water) out there, but it's unpredictable. You never know what to expect."
Ducks are more maneuverable but less forgiving than the wide-hulled rafts. There's more opportunity for fun and less room for error, but the experience is more intimate, the thrills multiplied.
Most in our 19-person group rode ducks. Of those, only two or three endured "swims." I, of course, was one of them. The first major rapid, the Class III-IV Last Chance, dumped me on my left side and rolled me over. A short time later, I took a plunge on the Quarter Mile rapid, when my duck wedged sideways between a pair of rocks and the current ejected me into the surf.
But I grew more comfortable with each passing rapid. By the end of the eight-hour trip, I felt confident and in control.
"The ducks are the best way to enjoy the river," said Rob Wissinger, 21, of Erwin, Tenn., who has guided for four years. "You get to experience the water firsthand, and you have the freedom to choose your path."
Of course, working a kayak for eight miles is a full-body workout. That's why outfitters recommend that only those in above-average physical condition tackle the solo trips.
Besides a pair of aching shoulders, the Nolichucky also left me with a pair of two-inch scrapes down my right shin and knee, courtesy of the tumble at Last Chance.
"We call those souvenirs," McCreary said.
© The Times-Picayune