With Cole's departure to San Diego delayed I took the opportunity and planned another overnight river river trip. The February trip had been what I called a limited success. In the months after that trip I utilized satellite images of the river and areas we wanted to explore. I also made use of map sites that could track distances. One more thing. I learned to use the LCRA hydromet. (The hydromet for example, reveals river flow rates and stages. This data does not directly correlate to river depth. The hydromet is useful but it does not tell you the river is 6" higher than last month, for example.) As I had no frame of reference this last piece, the hydromet, took me the longest to put to practical use. As the weeks and months went by I gradually framed up a knowledge base of these components.
By June Cole and I had made a short river day trip with him manning the bow. He learned basic strokes, the forward, draw and pry strokes. I also taught him to keep the paddle from rubbing the canoe gunwale as he paddled. Cole was a quick study and usually patient with my teaching.
Another accomplishment, I acquired a Royalex Wenonah Spirit II from TG Canoe.
There was more planning on this trip than the last.
Dad advocated for the shorter run from Altair for various reasons. For one thing the Altair launch eliminated a shuttle. Second Dad wanted to avoid a set of rocks down river Beason's Park in Columbus. Dad also wanted to avoid the low stage issues and multiple partial portages we faced in February.
I on the other hand felt the river had risen enough from the February low. Just a two or three inch rise in the river would have floated us over many of the obstacles we walked the canoe over in February. Also, I planned to pack a lot lighter. (For one thing, we would only have two men in the canoe.) The most important thing to me is I wanted to put some river miles beneath me. I wanted to see as much river as I could.
So Mom and Dad would shuttle Cole and me from small town Texas to Columbus. Cole and I would launch from Beason's Park in Columbus. We would paddle fifteen river miles down and meet Dad and Todd on the Tate Bend sandbar.
Dad and Todd would start later and make the leisurely five mile jaunt from the Altai bridge to Tate Bend. There we would camp for the night. Both canoe parties would head downstream to the Altair Bridge take out point.
Mom and Dad shuttled us to Beason's Park early one June morning. Cole and I pushed the loaded Wenonah canoe out into the river current into a sunny warm day. Mom and Dad waved and honked the horn as they drove over the old bridge. Within sight of launching we navigated a large set of rocks. Even though it was only a couple hundred yards from launch that set of rocks was a milestone to me. They mark a point of no return, somehow reminding me of Alexander burning his ships. We were on our own now.
With the river at a higher stage and the canoe more lightly loaded we floated over all the obstacles that we portaged on our February trip. We packed the canoe with our tent, sleeping bags, a dining fly, a propane cook stove, an Igloo cooler, water for the day, our back packs and some fold up chairs. Extra clothes were packed into our back packs. Even though we packed lighter, I still loaded heavier than I do now. I had not fully realized the impact of the low river stage and that no canoe freighted cargo like that dreadnought of a canoe, the Chestnut. On later trips we would pack even lighter, but for now we were learning and moving in the right direction.
As I was learning to pack I was also learning the Colorado River. It would be so cool to write I had learned to pack or the ways of the river, but the fact is I was identifying some dots and making a connection here or there. There were still some pieces at large.
The river was still in a drought. The river was higher and flowing more than in February but it was still low.
Past the rocks a we paddled into a riparian wilderness. From the canoe it seemed the woods stretched indefinitely beyond the banks even though we were still in town. Before my sunscreen dried the predominant south wind blew my hat off. We turned the canoe around and plucked the slowly sinking hat. Soon the colossal I-10 bridge loomed and dominated the view. Momentarily the river is forgotten. The white, towering structure of straight lines and round piers arches and stretches over the river and extends far beyond its banks. This bridge offered no access and serves as gateway from a historic town into an isolated narrow strip of wilderness.
As we did not portage or skid over any sandbars or gravelbars we passed the observation bluff of February 2014 without notice. We took a break at the Moon Rocks. These hole riddled limestone outcrops are landmark and milestone. In looking at the pictures the river was still alarmingly low. Opposite the Moon Rocks a long, wide sandbar formed on the west riverbank. We pulled onto this generous area and cooled in the shade, the wet sand and drank water.
In an effort to save weight we utilized some gas station disposable coffee cups for drinking water. I set my nearly empty cup on the closed lid of the cooler. A moment later a gust of wind tossed the cup into the shallows. Contamination! Having no soap or way to rinse it without wasting drinking water, the cup served as the first piece of trash of the trip. Lesson learned, some light things are not worth having.
Here we found a set of unfamiliar tracks. We pondered them.
Suddenly while we were enjoying the cool some otters came out on the Moon Rocks. They played, paying us no mind. They disappeared as suddenly as they appeared.
We figured if the otters thought it was time to go we should too. About five miles down we got out of the canoe again. This time on the sandbar we had camped on in February. Much of the sand was underwater now, making the camp site less habitable. Since we had discovered beaver at this location we have come to call this sandbar Buckies.
We found some doodle bugs and watched them a while.
We rested, drank water and snacked. Then we headed down river. About a mile upstream our destination Cole spotted something floating in a back eddy. We paddled over to check it out. It was hard to figure it out at first but as we got near we realized it was a dead catfish, maybe four or five pounds. This was unusual, we were figuring it had gotten off a stringer when we got a surprise! There was a two foot alligator rolling the floating fish carcass, trying to tear off a piece to eat! We left that alligator to his treasure in a hurry!
When we got to the area we agreed to camp we saw Dad and Todd about a quarter mile downstream on a tiny sandbar. They were taking a break. We waved them on. By the time they loaded up and paddled to us Cole and I had our tent up.
The Tate Bend sandbar was a pretty place. Beyond the sand were hundreds of acres of tall grass. The bluff on the opposite bank was picturesque.
By mid June in Texas it is starting to get warm. We set up the dining fly, nearly in vain. With no willow trees within 500 yards we endured the afternoon sun. The nine foot square dining fly shade drifted with the arc of the sun. Four grown men under that moving spot of shade was crowded!
As dusk settled and slowly cooled the land we swam. On the bank as the light faded and night deepened we heard hoot owls and coyotes. Dad queried Cole and me about our journey, asking if we portaged the canoe. We told him about the otters and the sand bar across the Moon Rocks.
That night grasshoppers in the field used the bluff bank to as an opera house to resonate their winged orchestra. They lulled me to sleep, and when I roused to semi consciousness a while later they sang me right back to sleep. Then in the early hours of the morning...silence. Peace, rest, an oasis of time if only for a moment. It was what I needed for the times to come. It was time with Cole, my brother and Dad.
The morning view from my tent screen looked like I had woke up in an Albert Beirstandt painting.
We ate a quick breakfast. While we waited for the dew on the tents to dry we packed our gear up and loaded the canoes. When the tents dried we broke camp and canoed to the Altair bridge. Compared to our February trip, we "made better time" from camp to the take out bridge.
Comments