Susquehanna sojourn

MATT HUGHES

mhughes@timesleader.com

For those living in the floodplain at least, the Susquehanna has forever posed a silent but ever-lingering threat. Dirty and menacing, many have viewed the river as a drawback, not a benefit, of the area.

With the construction of the River Common and the growth of Riverfest, however, others have sought to reacquaint locals with their much maligned neighbor, offering a simple invitation to come to the river and see what has been hidden in plain sight, the Susquehanna’s beauty. Invitation accepted.

Eighty-five turned out for a twilight sojourn down the Susquehanna Friday evening. The expedition was the first of three to be held as part of Wilkes-Barre’s Riverfest celebration, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Organizers expected a sizeable turnout for the event, though the mass that turned out Friday evening was cause for some surprise.

“A week ago, 17 were signed up,” said David Buck, owner of Endless Mountain Outfitters, Sugar Run.

Perhaps the favorable weather forecast brought them out.

Jeff Nealon, of Wilkes-Barre, said he made a reservation for one of last year’s Riverfest excursions, but cancelled due to the heavy rains that fell the weekend of the festival.

“We came to be able to see the river and animals and stuff in the river, from the river instead of from the road,” Nealon said. “Plus, the weather is beautiful.”

Travelers rode in single and tandem kayaks, low-slung boats propelled with double-ended paddles, brought from home or rented at special Riverfest rates from Endless Mountain Outfitters, Susquehanna River Adventures, Wilkes-Barre, and Susquehanna Kayak and Canoe Rental, Falls. One couple, Gordon and Chris Weightman, of Kingston, traveled by canoe.

“We like canoeing together, my wife and I,” Gordon Weightman said, “looking at the towns from the river instead of the opposite.”

The group set out from Nesbitt Park, Wilkes-Barre, on two 39-foot school buses just after 4 p.m., bound for its cast-off point in West Pittston.

By 5 p.m., lifejackets, paddles and boats had been distributed, and safety briefings begun. Buck warned paddlers of hazardous eddy currents, trees hanging into the water, and trying to stand up in a kayak.

“If you stand up in a kayak, BINGO, you go over,” Buck said.

A simple explanation if there ever was one.

The crowd then set out in groups of about 30, divided by the three outfitters supplying boats and gear.

By 5:30 p.m., the group had Pittston’s twin bridges at its back, Wilkes-Barre bound.

Most in the group were neophytes in some sense: first time in a kayak, first time paddling on a river, first time in the Susquehanna.

“We’ve lived in West Pittston for 17 years, and besides walking in front of it, we’ve never been on it,” said Greg Buzinski, who shared a tandem canoe with grandson Noah Civiletti. “After all those years of telling him not to go near the river, here we are in the middle of it.”

Robbie Marks, of Denver, Colo., remembered her childhood days in Kingston, when a green metal wall barred access to the river.

“You just couldn’t do this,” Marks said.

By the time the trip entered its second hour, the group had morphed from scattered clumps to a meandering broken column, punctuated with small groups of families, friends and new found acquaintances. One could have as much or as little company as one wanted.

Even for those familiar with the Wyoming Valley, new sights could be found along the Susquehanna’s banks. A half submerged, mostly decomposed railway car; a relic of the Knox Mine Disaster; a short section of rapids in Exeter, and a flock of Canada geese, all astounded.

“People don’t realize what we have here,” self-confessed kayak “addict” Kathy Selli, of Scranton, said.

The Susquehanna itself also takes on a new character for one who has only seen it from a bridge or roadway. Broad and deep near Wilkes-Barre, it narrows in sections, bisected by islands, and appears more a woodland creek than a mighty river.

Shortly before 8 p.m., as the boats passed by the austere white walls of the Forty Fort Cemetery and rounded a gentle bend, Wilkes-Barre again came into view, though perhaps not the Wilkes-Barre most of us know.

The setting sun’s rays gleaming from the county courthouse’s dome and the white faces of the Guard center and other River Street buildings, bound by church steeples guarding her perimeter, the city stands majestic. Even the oft-maligned Hotel Sterling blends seamlessly into the cityscape. Wilkes-Barre, her portico at least, is beautiful.

Another thought also comes to mind: It’s so small. Our fair city is dwarfed by the trees flanking her banks, and the mountains walling her in. Mother Nature awaits at our very shores.

“I’m so glad to see they’re developing the resources that we have,” Mary Anne Saylor, of Ashley, said as she paddled tandem with daughter Miranda Lyon. “The river, the mountains, what more could you need.”