By Jeremy Patton
Cumberland Falls is located in Cumberland Falls State Resort Park in Whitley County, Kentucky.
Shane, Angie and I paddled below Cumberland Falls for the first time on 7/16/17. It was magical. Before I tell our story and possibly inspire others to replicate it, I must mention a few safety concerns. This float can be fun or deadly, depending on your decisions.
1. If rain is in the forecast, stay away. A Kentucky monsoon could strike upstream without your knowledge, morphing the river into a devouring monster.
2. Wear a life jacket. The waterfall’s turbulence is powerful and chaotic.
3. Do not paddle directly below the falls. The undercurrents could trap you.
4. Do not attempt this float unless you are an experienced paddler.
On 7/16/17, the Cumberland River flowed at about 739 cfs and 1.93 feet. There are numerous websites where you can check the mood of the river before you depart. I used americanwhitewater.org.
There is no easy put-in. If you want to paddle here, you must pack your equipment in and out of the canyon.
We unloaded our kayaks in front of the gift shop, parked, then carried them down to the beach along the paved path that flanked the river. About midway, it forked, one path descending, the other climbing higher into the cliffs. We took the high path. It rejoined the low path near the beach, but reduced the number of steps.
Our two green kayaks were light, so Angie and I carried them in one trip. Shane rolled his heavy, tan fishing kayak on a dolly for half the journey, then we carried it for the remainder (due to steps). If all three kayaks had been light, things would have been fairly easy. Just take your time and take breaks. The trip is a little more than a quarter-mile.
Many folks along the route inquired if it was legal to paddle below the falls. I believe that it is. However, swimming is illegal, and very stupid.
The put-in at the sandy beach was easy, as was our paddle upriver. Little by little, we tested the waters and crept closer to the falls. The wind randomly sprayed us, which felt great under the summer sun.
I learned a lot about how the river circulated. It plunged and rushed toward the east bank, sweeping me downriver when I tried to paddle against it. The west bank, however, was relatively stable; eddies lived among the boulders there. We moved to the edge of the falls, relaxed and took pictures. The mist drifted east, keeping us somewhat dry.
I paddled across the river near the falls and rode the current back down, repeating numerous laps. The mighty waterfall’s cool, drenching mist made me feel elated – and small.
From the west bank, Shane and I examined Cumberland Fall’s spacious rock shelter. We concluded that it was possible to take-out on the rocks and boulder-hop behind the falls. We had heard old-timers speak of the wondrous, frightening power there. We aim to experience it for ourselves, but will wait for the next drought.
We floated downriver and took out on a sandy sliver of beach tucked between two massive boulders; it resided just south of Eagle Creek. We hiked to Eagle Falls and encountered more tourists there than I had ever seen, perhaps 15-20. One considerate, middle-aged man stripped naked in front of us and changed into dry clothes. His magnificent little penis was exactly what was needed to make Eagle Falls even grander.
We did not venture beyond the mouth of Eagle Creek because the river became choked and swift, making portage necessary on the return trip. We happily paddled back to Cumberland Falls for another round of photos.
We watched tour groups visit the falls, each for a few, tantalizing minutes before rowing back from whence they came, apparently bound to a strict schedule. The sad sight reminded us of the advantages of organizing our own exploration.
As late evening approached, the west bluffs provided shade that our group, the Pale Pirates, greatly appreciated. We wanted to stay longer, but hunger finally drove us to the Riverview Restaurant. Next time, we will pack a cooler full of sandwiches and beverages and enjoy a very special picnic on the churning river.
****
5/15/22 – I returned to challenge the mighty falls again, this time solo. I brought an unfamiliar eight-foot kayak. Its light weight made it easy to carry down while packing the rest of my equipment on my back. An older gentleman stopped me en route and joked that if I wanted to go over the falls, I was heading in the wrong direction. I said no, “I just came from the falls. I paddled up.”
There were subtle hints that the river would be less hospitable than previous outings, such as a cascade near the beach that normally was dry.
I put in and floated to my first destination, Koala Falls (named after an ex-girlfriend years ago). It plummeted from the west cliff about midway between Cumberland and Eagle Falls. I had not seen it in a long time because it is wet-weather only.
As I approached Cumberland Falls, it became more apparent that the area had received significant rain. The river formed a brown-streaked wall and the plunge pool swelled. I was quite far out when the first wave jumped my kayak and drenched me. I shivered.
The closer I got, the more the river battered me. I felt unsettled. My kayak was too short and narrow for my six-foot frame and not designed for the choppy waves. Sitting on my life vest raised my profile and destabilized me further. I let the river carry me to relatively still water where I clumsily wiggled the life jacket from beneath my rear end and put it on. That was the best decision I made all day.
For the next 30 minutes, I paddled furiously toward the falls until the river repelled me. I rode the current back to Koala Falls, rested, snapped some photos then charged again. I heard a few tourists yell from the overlooks but could not discern them. They probably shouted things like “You’re going to drown” or “Here comes natural selection!” They probably wondered how such a reckless idiot remained alive.
There are many logical reasons why a 44-year-old man does this sort of thing, at least in my mind. It is good exercise and a hell of a lot more exciting that walking on a treadmill. Actually, it is exhilarating. The roar of the falls, the smell of the river, the struggle against the turbulence that will inevitably defeat me, all make me feel alive and very, very mortal.
I remember reclining near Koala Falls with my feet dangling out, marveling at the immense time it must have taken the river to carve the canyon. Those humbling thoughts were interrupted by a fish that leaped out of the water about five feet away, startling me. I laughed and wished him well and hoped that he would escape the fishermen nearby. I gazed back at Cumberland Falls and wondered how much longer I would be physically able to carry my equipment in and out of the canyon and paddle up and down the river, feeling my abilities decline every year.
After a snack, I assaulted the falls again, this time fatigued and a bit over-confident. I thought I had the churning currents figured out. A strong surge wheeled me sideways and there was nothing I could do about it. A second surge dumped me into the river. I bailed out mid-flip to give myself room to maneuver. While being swept away, my first thought was “I got a life jacket on, I’ll be alright.” My second thought was “Wow, I’m still wearing my glasses and floppy hat.” The life jacket prevented me from going completely under.
The race was on to gather my stuff. I draped my arm over my up-side down, water-filled kayak. Next I grabbed the paddle and tucked it under my opposite arm. Then I spotted my smart phone, thankfully in its waterproof case, and one croc floating a few body-lengths from me. “Damn it, I’m gonna have to hike out of here with one shoe.” I swam and retrieved the phone and shoe and rejoined the kayak. I then worried about my dry bag that contained most of my equipment, including wallet, car keys and pistol. I had crammed it inside the kayak at my feet before putting in. I was fairly certain that it would remain securely lodged, but could not see it to confirm.
As the river slowed I kicked and guided myself to the bank, an awkward affair while clinging to so much stuff. People heckled. I looked up at one point and yelled “If you don’t flip over you’re not doing it right,” the equivalent of tripping in a crowded room then doing ten push-ups before standing back up.
It seemed like an hour before I washed onto a collection of boulders, but it probably only took a couple minutes. The spot was not ideal; it was slanted, jagged and slick with mud. Dragging the kayak out was the greatest challenge. The higher it rose above the water, the heavier it became, about 1000 pounds. I managed to wedge it between two boulders, throw my weight onto the light end and flip it onto land where it could drain. The ordeal made me more tired than the entire river debacle.
I sighed with relief as I pulled out my dry bag – and my second croc! The true miracle was not that I survived, but rather I retained all my belongings. I was also pleased that I had not contributed to the trash in the river.
After getting everything in order, I paddled back to Koala Falls and rested, nearly falling asleep. I approached Cumberland Falls again just to show it who was boss. I lingered near the edge of the turbulence, took more photos then left. I decided not to tempt fate again because I was very tired and a second wipe out might not end so well.
Mistakes:
1. I paddled alone. If I had found myself in real trouble, there was no one nearby who could assist me. I have hiked, caved and kayaked solo most of my life, so that is a risk I accept.
2. I used an inadequate kayak. It was too small for me and not designed for angry water.
3. My belongings were unsecured because I used an unprepared kayak. My personal vessel is customized so that I can tether dry boxes that hold my survival kit, phone, wallet, car keys, pistol – the important items. If I wipe out, they stay with the kayak and I do not have to waste time and energy gathering them.
Things I did right:
1. I wore a life jacket.
Added 7/17/17 – Updated 7/27/26