We eventually make the turn to head north of I-20, but soon discover that a bridge is out, so we asked for some directions to reroute (we weren't in the car with the gazetteer and Roads of Texas). The amusing thing was having to ignore the detour sign which, according to the woman who gave us directions, was actually pointing the wrong way.
Finally, we were on the right path, approaching the country we'd soon be floating through. Winding around a mountain, passing small towns that weren't much bigger than a couple of buildings by the road, and growing more and more eager about our trip the closer we got. Fooling around with the harmonica, stopping at a little wooden building for some last-minute bait, and at last, we crossed the final bridge and made our way into the parking lot at Rochelle's.
We paid for the rental and shuttle fees, and fended off a half-dozen attempts to sell us cheesy souvenirs or things we'd already brought with us. He dug out the little paper map, and scribbled on it in red ink while describing landmarks, half of which I didn't remember, to give us a rough idea of when we'd be where along the trip.
Last chance to pee in a civilized bathroom!
Then it was back to the car, unload our gear, and take it over to the shuttle truck. To judge by the looks on other people's faces, we were woefully under packed. We had no water (everyone else had at least a case of water bottles), and all our gear fit in 2 backpacks, one of which was just a regular schoolbag, with the minor exception of the camp stove, griddle, and small cooler (which basically just held some meat, eggs, potatoes and onions). Brandy sat in the cab, while I went back to my Mexican roots and made myself comfortable in the pickup bed.
I'm not sure how far we drove, but I know it took probably 20 or 30 minutes before we were at the put-in. With as little gear as we had, Brandy and I were the first boat actually in the water. Paddle out a little bit, and dunk the water bottles into the river. Take our first drink of filtered river water - hey, not bad! It actually tasted a little sweet...interesting.
Blue skies, a light breeze, beautiful canyons, trees, and pretty green water -- yeah, it was a gorgeous day for paddling. We started off at a nice slow pace, and saw where some people were planning a nice, relaxed pace for the weekend -- we were barely around the first bend, and they'd already set up camp (unless they hadn't broken camp from the night before).We got a good laugh, when we passed a broken rowboat left ashore from who knows how long ago. And a little bit later, we were almost bumped into by a couple of guys that were apparently on their first canoe -- they hadn't yet gotten the hang of going straight...it probably didn't help that one of them was practically lying down in the canoe and trying to reach up to paddle. We joked in our best pirate voices about ramming speed and plundering their boat, but that was about all the interaction we had with them for a while as we soon left them behind.
In just a little while, we were passing a rocky shelf that just cried out that fish were probably hiding there, so I guided the canoe closer and held onto a rock while Brandy cast into a quiet cove. Not much action going on, so she had me continue paddling. No sooner were we back in the middle of the river than she has a fish on her line. A good size one too! Sadly, just after she got the hook out, it jumped out of her hands and swam away.
She kept trying for a bit, but didn't catch anything worth keeping, so she had me row on, with her in the rear of the canoe kinda trolling her line, until we saw a quiet spot, where off in a small hollow, there was a patch of algae providing natural cover. Brandy cast into that a few times, then asked me to back up a bit.
A brief "oh, shit" was all the warning I got.
Scarcely were the words out of her mouth when I found myself underwater. Within seconds, we had surfaced, righted the canoe, retrieved the paddles, and dug out a couple of pots from the mess kit to begin bailing, and only then did she get a chance to explain what had happened. It seems she had dropped her paddle and tried to reach for it, overbalancing the boat and giving us a chance to go swimming in the Brazos.
"Oops," I grinned, as I began taking stock -- thank goodness we'd had the foresight to double-bag the camera and put at least the sleeping bags in a dry bag. Unfortunately, we didn't take the same precaution with towels and spare clothing. We were also missing a few heavy items -- camp saw, stove, griddle, and the like.
Flash forward an hour and a half...the boat is bailed, everything is found except for the griddle (the hard way...note to self, get a saw that doesn't expose the pointy bits), we've been passed by a few people, including our fellow pirates from earlier, and our bare feet are covered in mud from sliding them along the river bottom in shoulder-deep water (for Brandy), searching for everything. I hop up and back into the canoe (who would have thought all those ladder-less exits from the community pool would have resulted in a useful skill?), and paddle it closer to shore so Brandy can rejoin me.
The revised plan for the day? Find the next good campsite so we have time to dry our things out, then put more effort in the next day. Besides, we were operating on two hours of sleep. A short day sounded like a good idea.
So we paddled for a bit, but soon came across the two guys we joked with before. One had the canoe up on a rocky shore, looking puzzled, while the other was obviously swimming in fairly deep water, with water bottles floating all around him. Having just been through it ourselves, we knew they had capsized, and started rowing over to help.
The one swimming seemed to be okay...he was mainly gathering the water bottles, while the other one was trying to figure out how to tip over a canoe full of water. I grabbed our pots and stood on a bit of rock that jutted out under the water and started bailing. He tried to join me, stepped off the rock and was immediately underwater. Spluttering as he surfaced, he asked how I was standing like that. Poor guy, musta thought I was Jesus for a second there.
Eventually, we got the majority of the water out of the canoe, and I told him it'd be better to do the actual tipping after they unloaded for camp later. Funny, though, it looked like they had packed more poorly than people assumed we did -- all it looked like they had to eat for 3 days was some snack-size bags of chips.
Meanwhile, the buddy in the water was calling for his friend to come and pick him up.
"No way! You'll just tip the boat again! Just swim over here."
"There's leeches in this river, dog!"
Eventually, they sorted themselves out, and we were on our way again, Brandy and I still giggling about the leeches line.
About thirty minutes later, we were approaching a trail leading up the shore of a sandbar through some thick brush. We were still with the buddies, and all of us started looking around when we heard a loud roaring sound from somewhere upriver. A few minutes later, we saw an airboat approaching -- turned out to be the game warden.
Hm...guess it's a good thing that fish earlier had gotten away, as we were able to play off the fishing gear as a misunderstanding, which it was -- we'd gotten so used to being able to fish in any state park that we had forgotten about needing a fishing license to go elsewhere. We promised to put it away, and the warden let us go with a warning. Then they started up their propeller and continued downriver, while we dragged the canoe ashore and said goodbye to our travelling companions.
First thing's first, set up camp and start laying all our wet stuff out on the gravel to dry in the sun. Eventually, we ran out of gravel and started draping things on the bushes. Meanwhile, I aired up the mats and took out the nice dry sleeping bags (yay for at least a little forethought). Lunch was a packet of pre-cooked salmon and some bread, which thankfully had managed to stay dry during the dunking. After that, we curled up and took a much-deserved nap.Later that evening, we found that the stove had dried out enough to be usable, so after we stowed our mostly-dry gear, Brandy explored a little bit, and I threw together a pot of chili. Funny, even on low, the stove's flame was hot enough to turn the aluminum grill blue. I learned a lesson this evening -- when you're used to guesstimating spice measurements by the volume of stuff in the pot while it's cooking, don't try to put these guesstimations into a pre-mixed bag to add later. Sadly, the chili turned out to be so peppery as to be inedible. Oops.
After "dinner," we cleaned everything up, and we realized why it would be a good idea get a scrub brush for the cleanup supplies list instead of a sponge. In the wilderness, you're using just-boiled water, not merely hot, to wash dishes. Ah, another lesson learned for next time.
After dinner, I was still pretty tired, so I basically put away the camp stove and such, and made my way into the tent. Brandy hung out down by the river for a while, then came into bed sometime after it got dark.
I don't know what time it was. All I know is that we heard a snuffling sound, like a dog, wandering around our camp. Before I could be all manly and such, Brandy had already hopped up, grabbed the flashlight, and was opening the tent to go outside, buck naked, and shouting at the errant raccoon to skat.
Yup, that's my wife, all right.
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