Ginger Travis
Above: Heading on the Roanoke River toward our platform camp we passed an old fishing boat and mountain laurel forest. PHOTO BY BRUCE WILKS
May 25, 2015, noon: The four of us stepped into our canoes, gave a little shove against the concrete ramp and turned our boats downstream on the big river. Yes, we were excited. Happy, too.
Perfect weather and a perfect start—75 degrees, low humidity, no wind, everybody on time and ready. We’d planned a three-day weekend trip beginning at the new Wildlife ramp on Astoria Road in Jamesville. From there a 20-mile loop going downstream seven miles, then turning off the river into Broad Creek and paddling through the swamp forest for about three miles to a raised wooden platform known as Cypress Cathedral.
We would camp two nights there. On Sunday we would keep paddling west across the swamp to rejoin the Roanoke River four miles upstream of our put-in. Yes, upstream. And then back down the river to Astoria Road. Roughly, from start to finish: northeast, west, southeast —a circle route.
This loop is done every year by plenty of paddlers. It’s doable because the Roanoke River below Williamston is wide, meandering and swampy. The main stem snakes back and forth in long, lazy arcs—like a slack garden hose lying loopily on the ground. The river arcs are cut across by creeks sometimes called guts.
Guts are the river’s shortcuts. As long as the river isn’t running too strong and the creeks are not blocked by deadfall, paddlers can cut through all the way from one side of the arc to the other and complete a circle of river-creek-river with no shuttling of cars. That’s motivation! There are at least three possible circle routes, with camping platforms somewhere along the way, between Williamston and Plymouth. (Below Plymouth the Roanoke flows on into Albemarle Sound.)
We chose our route because we wanted to see a new stretch of river. Also, the Cypress Cathedral platform sounded wonderful. It is situated about as far back into the Roanoke swamp forest as you can paddle, and I always heard it described as beautiful.
As usual in unfamiliar territory I was a little nervous: 10 miles to paddle, navigation to do back in the branching swamp creeks, camp to set up—all before dark.
We saw unexpected sights from the get-go. There were closed-up bait shacks along the densely forested shore. We saw tied up to the bank a dilapidated metal-hulled commercial fishing vessel with a small tree growing out of it.
We passed the town of Jamesville where a famous old herring fry shack sits beside the former public boat ramp. (The old ramp is at the bottom of a steep hill. There must have been a few cars over the years that didn’t stop rolling in time! The wide new ramps on flat ground at Astoria Road are a huge improvement.) Through most of the 20th century the Roanoke supported a seemingly limitless herring fishery, and Jamesville netted its share before the fishery crashed.
But the fry shack lives. Called the Cypress Grill, open January through April and offers deep-fried herring and rockfish. People drive in from miles around. If you’re interested in old-time Southern foodways, this is a pilgrimage site.
Below Jamesville we saw a strange and wonderful thing. On one side of the river a high, steep, shaded bank was covered with mountain laurel in full bloom. Yes, mountain laurel. The laurel, right down to water line, went on and on for maybe half a mile.
The riverbank here looked like anything but a swamp—more like a mountain cove, shady and deep with beech, oak, sweet bay magnolia and umbrella magnolia—all because of some upthrust bedrock providing high ground, good drainage and a more or less north exposure. But the opposite side of the river was pure swamp, low and wet, all cypress and tupelo.
These weird contrasts, with remnants of cool-weather species in micro-habitats, make eastern North Carolina swamp paddling endlessly interesting to me. (I once saw a big patch of galax—that other typical mountain plant—in full bloom along the nearby Cashie River.)
So you can geek out on nature as you cruise the Roanoke or you can just abandon yourself to the scenery, which slowly unspools before you like a movie, around each bend in the river.
We made our turn west into Broad Creek in late afternoon. With still three miles to go and the route more challenging, we began looking for landmarks. At a fork we finally found a very small wooden sign nailed to a tree—go that way. And at last we spotted the little wooden dock for Cypress Cathedral, a place to unload one canoe at a time, and then tote our stuff down a narrow boardwalk to our home away from home: a spacious 26’x 16’ wooden deck well above high water. It felt wonderful to stand on something solid and dry.
In an hour we had our tents up, cooler opened, beers popped, and dinner under way. We had made it! Boy, were we pleased with ourselves.
People have two big fears related to swamps: snakes and bugs. We saw surprisingly few snakes—just two on the whole trip, and neither a cottonmouth. We had mosquitos only at dusk, but they were not much worse than in my yard near Chapel Hill. Their arrival was our cue to jump in our tents and zip up. You can’t have a campfire on the platforms, so there’s a little less motivation to sit up late and talk.
On Saturday we loafed. Read books. Paddled a mile over to the Three Sisters camping platform to look at it and eat lunch. Then back to Cypress Cathedral for a nap, a late-afternoon beer and dinner. That night I had trouble sleeping and listened for a long time to creatures calling in the dark: Barred Owl, King Rail, unknown frogs. I got up once to walk down to the dock and check our canoes. Still there.
On Sunday we broke camp early and paddled off to look for the creek that would lead us across the swamp and back to the Roanoke River. Cut Cypress Creek turned out to be the loveliest stretch of water we paddled all weekend. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
On the big river again and headed downstream, we had four miles to go, and we were in a hurry now—horses heading for the barn. Just before reaching the Astoria Road ramp I noticed Devils Gut joining the Roanoke on the right (west). This big gut is the site of three camping platforms.
Astoria Road would be the place to launch to paddle a quarter mile upstream on the Roanoke and then turn west into the gut to reach the Beaver Lodge, Beaver Tail, and Barred Owl Roost platforms. Beaver Lodge and Beaver Tail are adjoining platforms that can be rented separately or together to accommodate a larger group.
Sunday morning the boat ramp was busier than on Friday. But before we drove away we were lucky enough to run into a guy who does a lot of shuttling of cars for paddlers and guiding in that region: Heber Coltrain (roanokeoutdooradventures.com, 252-809-9488.) Good guy to know if you’re planning a long one-way run down the river.
And then we raced to Williamston for a McDonald’s fix. We earned those fries!
Good trip.
What You Need To Know About Trip
If you go: you must have a reservation for one of the 16 Roanoke River platforms. The fee is reasonable, a bit more than $10 per person per night (minimum of $25). You can study river maps and reserve platforms online through Roanoke River Partners, a nonprofit. Their website (roanokeriverpartners.org) has plenty of information, including GPS coordinates for each platform.
Canoe or kayak: Both will work on the Roanoke. In terms of camping luxuries, I think of canoe camping as the equivalent of car camping and kayak camping the equivalent of backpacking.
Navigation: I do some map study before I go, and the satellite views of Google maps are very helpful. On the water, there are small signs posted at turnoffs and forks. There are also mile markers on paddle trails, helpful when visible but not always easy to see.
Drinking water: Carry all you’ll need; don’t plan on filtering. The Roanoke carries lots of sediment and agricultural chemicals as well.
When to go: The best camping seasons are spring and fall. Summer in the swamps must be pretty miserable. It’s important to watch the weather forecast. The wide Roanoke can be subject to winds that make paddling difficult. We were able to change the dates for our trip when the forecast for our original weekend in April called for headwinds every day plus rain. In mid-May our platform was available, so we rebooked.
Also, be aware that the Roanoke can run slow or fast depending on the season, on dam releases upstream and on recent rainfall. Do some research before you go. The Roanoke River Partners website has good information and the staff will answer emailed questions. (Heber Coltrain is another source of information for trip planning: 252-809-9488.)
Safety: Camping is pretty much the same on any platform. What’s different is the water. The Roanoke is big, can be windy and is not the safest place for beginners when it’s running fast. The nearby Cashie River, narrower and slower, is a better choice for less-experienced paddlers. The Cashie has so little current that you can easily paddle down-river, then back up again. It’s gorgeous to boot. And there’s a really pretty platform called Lost Boat.
Leave No Trace: Each camping platform has a little privy—three walls for privacy, a half wall for a view, and no roof. Paddlers can set up a portable toilet inside or simply squat over a bag. The point is this: there’s no place to poop in a swamp—no digging a cathole, for instance. So you carry your solid waste home, along with all other trash, and dispose of it responsibly.
Boat ramp parking: Astoria Road, like most Wildlife ramps, designates separate parking spaces for cars with trailers and single cars (no trailers). Best to heed the signs.
Other rivers, other platforms: There are paddle-in camping platforms on the Chowan River at Holiday Island, Bennett’s Creek near Merchants Millpond State Park, the Tar-Pamlico River, a creek near Edenton and Hidden Lake in Tyrrell County. As a good friend of mine likes to say: “So much water, so little time!”