After 2020 my thirst for canoeing new waters fueled my plans and sparked my imagination. I turned my eyes to a sixty-four mile piece of the Colorado River between the towns of Columbus and Glen Flora, Texas. Near the halfway point the U.S. 90 Alternate bridge crosses the Colorado. Construction at that bridge has temporary closed that river access. This closure creates some challenges, and one special opportunity.
Visions of an uniquely isolated, extended Colorado River trip filled my head. The only problems with this extended trip was 1) my lack of vacation time limited me to an overnight trip, and 2) a physical obstruction. That obstacle, revealed in the Recon of the Skull, was an enormous cottonwood that washed across and blocked the portage trail at the Garwood low water dam.
For me the entire sixty-two mile trip pivoted on that tree. With the setbacks of the last eighteen months, for better or worse, I developed a Garwood or Bust mentality. My focus burned on that tree.
On April 4, 2021 Dottie, the kids and I made a surveillance of the Garwood 950 bridge.
There is no boat launch at the 950 bridge. I saw this is a good thing. We found good access via a short, unimproved portage trail to the river bank. Todd, Dottie and I made a plan "...that would be the envy of most any man..." Mister Cash might have been amused by our plan and its outcome. For the now, we would make the extended trip, one piece at a time.
Now we had not canoed below the dam in many years, (OK, decades). So we decided to start our journey in the middle.
Our curiosity about the blocked portage trail at the low water dam was high. By man or nature, we hoped that cottonwood had been removed. With access at Altair denied the next closest launch was Garwood. We elected to paddle upstream to the low water dam. From there we planned to survey the low water dam portage trail. If possible, we would continue upstream and camp at the confluence of the Skull and the Colorado. Admittedly, it was an aggressive plan.
Friday April 23rd, Dottie and I made a base camp at Stephen F. Austin State Park. This shortened the shuttle distance and allowed Dottie and the kids to sleep later. Todd would meet us early Saturday morning. Dottie would shuttle us to Garwood. Sunday we would rendezvous with Dottie at the Garwood bridge at 2:00 PM. What could go wrong?
April 24, 2021 our "early start" resulted in a 12:30 launch. For the first mile the current was strong. That mile took us thirty minutes of high effort paddling. We took a break on a sandbar.
From this point foreword the current stayed strong and by and by increased in swiftness. From that sandbar up, we lined the canoe as much as we paddled.
This section of the river is not visited much. It felt more remote than the parts we knew upstream. The width of the riparian zone or flood plane seemed typical, maybe a little wider, but the area I refer to as the limited wilderness felt much broader.
On this canoe trip we saw a pair of mature bald eagles, an immature bald eagle, Mexican eagles, black and turkey vultures, various crane birds, pileated wood peckers, kingfishers, mockingbirds, soft shelled turtles, beaver tracks (and some beaver gnawed willows) and a thrown antler.
At 4:30 PM we reached an unplanned turnaround point. We were paddling the larger channel alongside an island. Keeping close to the island bank we were protected from the main force of the river. Strong currents greeted us at the top of the island. The trouble came when we tried to cross to the other side of the river. When the canoe entered the main stream the swift current pushed the canoe sideways.
We fought it, but lost the battle. Landing at the bottom of the island, we assed the situation. It was 5:00 in the evening, we had only covered a little over three and a half miles (in four and a half hours!) and we were in unfamiliar country. We decided to make camp.
In retrospect, we might have done better had we lined up the smaller, shallower side the island. From there we may have been able to get above the swiftest headwaters of the island and relaunch above the swiftest waters. Then we might have made it to the sandbar on the other side of the river. At that point the hope would be to line the canoe and continue working upstream.
One thing I like about canoeing is it sort of a suspends time. Its easy for me be "in the moment" in a canoe. In that moment, we assessed the the situation and made the best decision with the circumstances and the remains of the day.
A mile downstream we found a sandy spot on a large gravel bar. We pitched camp.
Here the place seemed especially grand. The weather was ideal. I felt like I was living inside an Albert Beirstandt picture.
We set up a cooking station some distance from the tent. As we finished eating our supper a sounder of feral hogs came out. They were about twenty-five yards from us. We shoed them off, but the dominant boar let us know he was not happy about it!
Raccoon tracks were numerous on the sandbar. In packing light we carried only a soft cooler. There was no way to secure the remainder of our food. Fortunately the raccoons passed over us; had they raided us they surely would have made a mess of our camp!
The next morning we cooked coffee in the still and calm. Across the river in a dead tree, two bald eagles watched us. With a good nights rest, some coffee and the big quiet, the sting missed goals receded. We took our time breaking camp and packing the canoe. We new we would soon leave this place and the river.
Watching the speed of the river foam drift downstream, we figured we could make it back to the bridge in under an hour.
We were on the water by 12:20.
By 1:05 we had the bridge in sight. At 1:25 the canoe and gear were staged and ready for loading in the van. For this trip we canoed just over seven and a half miles.
Even falling short some of our goals, this was a great trip. We found an exceptionally big, remote and wild place.
Hopefully we will return to the Colorado and Garwood soon. We are planning on an earlier start on the same stretch. Sometimes things don't turn out as planned, sort of like the car in the song "One Piece at a Time." When that happens it's often our perspective that determines our happiness.
Thanks for reading!
MSM
Comments