Canoeing the New

Hummingbirds hover above the wildflowers. A kingfisher perches on the end of a limb, its rattling call vibrating in the air before it takes off again looking for a meal. A muskrat swims along the banks of the river as small fish dart between the rocks.

This is the New River in Jefferson, N.C., on a recent Friday afternoon. The tranquility here is enough to revive even the weariest of souls.

The outfitter leaves us off on a narrow, winding road next to the river. Cows wade in the water upstream, unperturbed by human activity.

The New River is one of the oldest rivers in North America, flowing north through Virginia and West Virginia, into the Kanawha and Ohio Rivers and eventually into the Gulf of Mexico through the Mississippi River. It was here even before the mountains that surround it, according to a state Web site (www.ncparks.gov/Visit/parks/neri/history.php.) Archaeological digs have turned up arrowheads and pottery shards. On a summer afternoon, the forest bordering the water appears dark and primeval, a place of mysteries.

It takes us four hours to paddle upstream. Fishermen cast their lines from the middle of the river, kids drift past in inner tubes. Time stops. Cell phones and politics are forgotten.

The only discordant note comes at the end of the trip. As we pull the canoe out of the water at the New River General Store, two F-15 fighter planes on a training mission burst above the tree line with a deafening roar, then quickly disappear, a disturbing reminder of man’s mark upon the land