I Tried Whitewater Rafting, Zoomed Down a Zip Line, and Slept in a Tree House at West Virginia's New National Park

I had been warned that most newcomers end up tossed from the raft at some point, but it was still a shock when, after a particularly wild spin in a Class III rapid on the New River in West Virginia, I found myself submerged beneath the big blue boat I had just been sitting in moments earlier. I fumbled around blindly under the raft, but since it was swirling in a whirlpool, I struggled to find my grip.

Then, in a burst of excitement, my fingers grasped the edge, and I pushed myself out from under the boat. My helmet broke through the surface, and I gasped for air, bobbing as I began to float downstream. I saw my guide, Liam Mulligan, expertly maneuvering the raft toward me. He grabbed the shoulders of my life vest and pulled me back in.

"How was that?" he asked, grinning, as I flopped down like a dazed fish.

"Insane," I replied, trying to catch my breath. "And actually kind of fun."

The New River is actually one of the oldest rivers on the planet. Estimates suggest it was formed around 320 million years ago, predating the Appalachian Mountain range through which it flows from its source in North Carolina. In 1978, a 53-mile stretch of this waterway in West Virginia was designated as the New River Gorge National River. Known for having some of the best whitewater in the country, it has long been a favorite among rafting fans. The area also attracts rock climbers, mountain bikers, and hikers. The general public became aware of it in December 2020 when the river was named America's 63rd national park. As a result, visitation skyrocketed — particularly due to the pandemic, with nearly 1.7 million visitors in 2021, marking a 60 percent increase from the previous year.

Last July, I visited Fayetteville, West Virginia, a small town located at the northwestern edge of the gorge, to explore the new park. Although there are no accommodations within the park, Fayetteville offers numerous places to stay, such as the apartment-style Lafayette Flats (lafayetteflats.com; doubles from $169), where I unwound in a soaking tub after my adventurous days, and Country Road Cabins (wvcabins.com; cabins from $159), where I enjoyed a night in a charming tree house. No matter where I stayed, I quickly discovered moments of solitude. The park, which embraces the river, is a long and narrow expanse of wilderness — a place where it’s easy to feel wonderfully lost.

"Remember, make a starfish if you see us doing it," instructed Carlee Evans, one of my zip lining guides, who was positioned several hundred feet away. If I was zipping too fast, she would spread her arms and legs as a signal for me to slow down by mimicking her. As I approached the edge of the platform, I tried not to focus on the forest floor below. Finally, I took the leap, speeding through the treetops and catching glimpses of the gorge beyond.

I embarked on the first part of an overnight adventure known as Zips and Dips, organized by ACE Adventure Resort (aceraft.com; overnight package starting at $279). My afternoon was spent zip lining, followed by a night at a riverside campsite before we tackled the whitewater the next day. I was joined by a family of three from Ohio — mom Sonia, dad Pat, and their college-age daughter Cassie — who were very accommodating about having a newcomer join their vacation. They reassured me that I would (likely) emerge unscathed from these thrilling activities.

Both Sonia and I felt a bit daunted by zip lining, so we became instant allies, drifting to the back of the group while letting the more daring go ahead. After several exhilarating hours, we finally met our rafting guides, Mulligan and Jeff Cogle. They were set to brief us on what to expect for the following day's adventure, but first, they treated us to a meal: two trays of loaded nachos fresh off the grill, followed by a hearty dinner of steak, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, salad, and garlic bread.

As we feasted, Cogle, a lifelong West Virginian with 30 years of guiding experience, shared stories about the area's mining past. The New River Gorge once boasted some of the finest coal reserves in the state; at its peak, there were 40 coal-mining towns along the river. Now, those mines are closed, and nature has reclaimed much of the land.

The next morning, with our stomachs satisfied by a classic country breakfast, we launched our rafts near the ghost town of Thurmond, which used to be a crucial railroad center for coal transport. Mulligan steered a passenger raft with Sonia, Pat, Cassie, and me, while Cogle followed in a smaller raft loaded with our provisions, first-aid supplies, and radio gear. The morning was serene and delightful: we spotted a bald eagle soaring overhead, then jumped off rocks into the water, letting the gentle current guide us downstream. At times, the gorge, reaching depths of 900 to 1,500 feet, closed in on us, limiting our view to just a few yards; other times, it opened into vast expanses where we could see for miles downstream.

However, the tranquility was short-lived. After passing the ruins of another mining town, we plunged into the rapids. Mulligan directed us, shouting commands like "all forward!" when it was time to charge the waves with our paddles. We bounced through the rapids, which had amusing (and occasionally daunting) names: Ender Waves, Pin Ball, Scramble Like a Rat.

After six hours on the river, we felt like veterans (I was the only one who got tossed out). When we hit one of the final major rapids — named Thread the Needle — with perfect timing, gliding the raft smoothly over the waves and rocks, we all raised our paddles in a celebratory high five and cheered. It had been a 15-mile trek, and I jumped into the water, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated.

After ten hours of sleep and a strong cup of coffee, I was hiking the park's famous Endless Wall Trail with Jodi French-Burr, a ranger who has been at New River since 1988. As we strolled, she shared insights about the local ecology, highlighting clusters of pink rhododendron, the state flower of West Virginia. From the overlook at Diamond Point, we gazed down 900 feet at tiny orange dots navigating the whitewater below — those were rafters tackling a rapid I had experienced the day before. It was thrilling to realize how much of the gorge I had explored in just two days.

Next, I hurried over to Arrowhead Bike Farm (arrowheadbikefarm.com), a campground and mountain-bike shop in Fayetteville that also features a restaurant and craft beer bar. After zip lining, rafting, and hiking, biking was the final activity on my multisport adventure in the gorge. My guide, Travis Brown, who oversees the bike clinics at the Farm, took me for a ride on the Long Point Trail. With a firm grip on the handlebars and bracing for the ride, I let out a shout as I raced through the woods, keeping my eyes on the trail to dodge rocks and roots.

After a thrilling 1.3 miles on our bikes, we dismounted and trekked to a rocky overlook where the vista unfolded before us. It was immediately clear why the New River Gorge Bridge is one of the most photographed landmarks in the state: stretching over 3,000 feet and soaring 876 feet high, it's an awe-inspiring sight. (I later discovered it's the largest single-span steel-arch bridge in the Western Hemisphere.) Before it was completed in 1977, crossing the river required a winding, 45-minute drive that included a steep descent, a shaky wooden bridge, and another steep ascent; now it takes just 45 seconds.

I recalled how, at the end of my rafting adventure the day before, I had leapt from the boat and let the water embrace me while I looked up at the bridge. Now, standing nearly at eye level with that same massive structure, I was struck by a profound sense of wonder.

This story first appeared in the June 2022 issue of Dinogo with the headline Rapid Transformation.