Countless times I have crossed the bridges spanning the upper sections of the San Bernard River...in automobiles. The shallow depth, weak flow, and land-locked pools are evident from the road. As a youth I daydreamed of fishing and canoeing that river. I forgot those dreams as an adult, but I somehow always knew the upper San Bernard was special.
Between I-10 and highway 1093 the San Bernard cuts its raveled channel through the remnant of an enormous plain. Technically, its entire length runs through the old prairie, but the contrast between prairie and river bottom is strongest to me on the upper portions of the San Bernard.
As a youth I canoed and waded landlocked streams. This was not to experience canoeing those areas, no! My brother, cousin and I explored these small waters in pursuit of the largemouth bass. We knew we were off the mainstream of fishing, but I learned to love fishing small waters.
As an adult I answered the call to fish bigger waters. I thought I had "outgrown" the small waters' training ground. The bays taught me different techniques, and I achieved certain goals, but I was never more aware of the charm of fishing small waters than after a successful big water trip.
I am, at heart, a small water fisherman. There is something about being on a small Texas stream. It is private, personal, and... intimate? Small streams foster a sense of freedom and isolation. Somehow I become part of the environment.
Back to canoeing...
By and by, compressed schedules and temporary, but lingering, limitations led me to ponder the opportunities of some small Texas streams.
I knew what I was getting into. Small streams rarely permit A to B destinations or overnight camping. These "streams" are often land locked pools beaded along a sand or gravel choked rivulet. Lining and portaging are the norm here, and canoes become a floating pack.
On April 23, 2022, Rock Island Canoe Club member Dave G and I answered the unique challenge of the upper San Bernard River. This time we would not just cross over the bridges in an automobile, we would cross under them in a canoe!
At the 60 Bridge the river was smaller than I remembered from my January surveillance. We were near Wallis, Texas. The south wind was gusting and temperatures were forecast in the low 80s.
We knew anything could happen. Our goal was to paddle 4-1/2 miles up to the 1093 Bridge. We understood the challenges of completing our objective.
Soon after launching, the river narrowed. This was a foreshadowing of things to come. Even so the San Bernard delighted us with small surprises. One of the happier things: the cranes, frogs and snakes didn't seem alarmed by us. They let us get much closer than I am used to.
We launched too late for viewing wildlife, but the sign we found indicated it was bountiful. (We saw one deer.) In the middle picture above you can see a frog, to the right a fresh water shrimp.
At first I thought the dead shrimp was some escaped fishing bait. I recanted after seeing fresh water shrimp swimming the clear stream. I identified deer, feral hog and raccoon tracks. I suspect the canine track in the upper left photo is of a coyote. The deer track is at least a day older.
Other fun surprises were a trickling current, clear water and a sandy riverbed. We appreciated the sand. Not having to deal with mud and silt was nice since we were getting in and out of the canoe for the frequent linings.
Beaver sign was plentiful. These creatures are enjoying a resurgence; as a kid I never saw sign of their presence.
In multiples places, we saw odd trails in the water. At first we figured some one drug a boat, or maybe they were some odd ATV tracks. I scuttled both notions when we came to this set of "tracks" (above right image). Let me know your thoughts as to their origin.
The photos above are of the suspected beaver dam and the components of its construction.
Before this I had not seen a beaver dam in the flesh. At first I thought it was a pile of river trash hung on a snag in a narrow. When I looked into the "trash" I found twigs with the bark gnawed off and limbs chewed in two, presumably by beavers.
Too soon we came to a fence stretched across the river. Satellite images hinted at this, but were inconclusive. In planning the trip, I had hoped the fence was not real.
The fence and what lay beyond it bothered us. The San Bernard narrowed and became shallow, twisted and turned and was filled with skeletal trees. So far we had lined our canoe as much as we had paddled it. To get this far had taken us nearly two hours. The next 200 - 300 yards looked like an overhead portage through an unwelcome space. I wanted to push on, but we expected the river to continue to decrease and weaken upstream.
We waited a while for time to reveal a truth. Looking at the fence it became clear any cattle staying on one side or the other are acting on an "honor system." And I guess that is what the fence maker expected of us. Ultimately, the idea of traveling further, still having to turn around and go back through this mess again was distasteful.
We called off the reconnaissance. Our journey covered less than two miles and and the objective was unmet. The 1093 was a bridge too far.
On the return leg of the run we noticed that despite the weak current and intermittent headwind it was easier going downstream than up. We lined our way to a deep hole. While refreshing in the shade of this spot I noticed a swirl in the water from a fish. I made a few casts.
I caught a bass! Before moving on I caught two more, each bigger than the last. Dave said what I was thinking: "Those bass don't see many lures!"
It was fun catching them. They fought harder than their size indicated. When I removed the lure from the second fish I saw the feelers of a crawfish poking out its stomach.
Though not big, these fish were a nice balm for the heartburn of our turnaround! I let them all go. Maybe I will catch them again.
Like the fish of my youth, these bass live in clear, moving water. I always thought river fish fought harder and were more colorful than lake fish.
The San Bernard is as small or smaller than many creeks I fished in the past, and a little different. Sometimes large fish can be caught in small creeks. The big fish swim up the creeks from the rivers, especially during floods. I have seen the high running Colorado overpower the Skull and reverse the flow of that creek. That's when the big fish move in.
This far up the San Bernard, fish migration would only come from other parts of the same river, during a rise or flood. With the pools of deeper water land locked much of the time there is a limited opportunity for big fish. My guess is the best fishing chances on the upper San Bernard are right after that river runs a little high.
This river is a geographic enigma to me, a testimony to the generous rainfall of the region. Nestled on a narrow strip of land between her two bigger sisters, the Brazos and Colorado, the San Bernard persists.
An authentic prairie oasis, the San Bernard is beautiful but small, delicate but resilient. It is an intricate vestige, a threatened realm of merging ecospheres.
This small Texas stream does not overwhelm or overpower, but leaves an impression: I am good here; at home. I know this place. Wild animals thrive here. The relentless schedule, dull din and the perpetual illumination of the metropolis are, for the now, less present here; mostly what trails in with me...
So here it is, the report of my first recon of the littlest of the three sister rivers: The San Bernard. She denied me my schedule and goals but traded me her best small treasures! To borrow a line from Robert Frost "And that has made all the difference."
Below are a few more pictures, enjoy!
Thanks for reading.
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