The Brushy Creek Incident (Part One)

Whether we're out camping, canoeing, or at home telling misadventures to friends old and new, one story that has come up many a time has been from my very first "river" adventure, on Brushy Creek in Round Rock, TX.

Let me take you back in time, to the early 1990's, when the internet was not yet commonly known, Bush senior was still president, and I was only 19 years old. At the time, I was living the starving student lifestyle, my only means of transportation was bus and/or bicycle, and I was in a lot better shape because of it. Earlier that year, I had ridden my bike from Austin to San Antonio, straight down I-35, because I needed to transfer my bank account to something local. Of course, it wasn't until 75 miles and 5 hours later that I found out they had a branch in San Marcos.

But that's another story.

This story begins when my best friend from high school, Chris, came for a visit. He and I used to go hiking regularly in San Antonio, although of course, those are other stories, as well. For a while, he had been in an advanced study program at the University of North Texas, where he earned college credit while still technically in high school. This is where he had met Mike, who later attended the University of Texas in Austin, and was currently my roommate in an off-campus apartment. While Mike wasn't quite the bike-rider that Chris and I were, he was getting used to the kind of mileage that I considered a casual day ride -- I'd managed to talk him into joining me for that ride to San Antonio.

One thing that had kept me curious for a long time had been the descriptions Chris used to give of the woods when he had lived in Round Rock. Well, he was here, we had free time, and Round Rock was only 22 miles away. Why not head up there for a camping trip?

So, we loaded up the bikes. I grabbed the C.A.K.E. Bag (in Case of Any Kind of Emergency) that we always took with us on our outings...it had a first aid kit, slingshot, rope, a Ninja Grappling Hook™, and various other items that in our naive late teens we thought were useful when going on long hikes.....I think there was a canteen, mess kit, and firelighters in there....no food though. Hm, guess hindsight can easily make you look stupid. What can I say? I was young.

The other key element we had with us were two inflatable rafts, the $25 "Two Man" rafts, in which "man" translated to "preteen child"; each boat only held one person in reality. I had bought these in the seasonal item aisle in H.E.B., for use paddling around Town Lake (the section of the Colorado River that is dammed on its way through Austin), since it was basically across the street from my back porch. I don't know why I thought I'd need it -- Chris had never said anything about any bodies of water -- but I guess it was just lumped into the category of "outdoor stuff" to always carry around, along with our hiking staffs. Those, of course, we carried slung across our backs with simple elastic shock cord.

We took off fairly early in the morning, straight along I-35 for most of the way, and once in Round Rock, we discovered that enough had changed that Chris could no longer pick out any landmarks to find his way to where he used to live. Rather than consider the trip a total waste, we pedaled around some back roads, and soon spotted a trail leading into a wooded area, so we decided to see where it went.

Jackpot!

We came across a clearing by a small creek, where the trail continued along the bank downstream. We didn't want to camp this close to the road, and Chris and I decided this was as good an excuse as any to pull out the rafts...our bright idea was that we would scout downriver until we found a campsite, then make our way back up the trail to retrieve Mike, who volunteered to watch the bikes, since he couldn't swim.

Did I mention the creek was running high and a bit swift (with some noticeable rapids just audible downstream), due to recent rains?

The last thing Mike heard of us for quite some time was my voice exclaiming in joy as we hit the first flume. The river bucked and shifted, and we struggled to steer at the beginning, but after a few exhilarating minutes, the flow settled down and we started rowing. Of course, one thing we couldn't help but notice was when we passed the point where the trail dead-ended into the river and we found ourselves now floating between impassable banks.

After a bit, we saw a small cove that looked promising, and we maneuvered in to have a look. Sadly, what we found was a muddy mess that wouldn't suit our purposes at all. Back to the river for us.

For quite some time, both banks of the river looked exactly the same -- sheer walls of dirt or clay that meant climbing out was not an option. We knew we'd have to keep going until we found shallow, flat banks, but had no idea how far that would be.

Worse yet, we saw that we were rapidly approaching a fallen tree that completely blocked our path. In moments, Chris thumped into it, and the water pressure capsized his raft. Fortunately, he managed to clamber up onto the tree, pulling his boat up after him. I tried to see if I could slip around and under a hump in the branches, but I quickly was dumped in the water, as well.

Note to self...if you have something you plan to use as an anchor, tie it to the boat before getting in the water.

While handing the raft and CAKE bag up to Chris, I hung onto the tree and tried to feel around with my foot for the grappling hook or rope, as I could *just* touch bottom. Unfortunately, that water was running much faster than I thought, and I very nearly got pulled under. I climbed up onto the log with Chris, and we took stock of our situation. We were stranded on a fallen tree above a dangerously fast-moving river, with no way to climb up either bank or go against the current if we tried to return the way we'd come. Downstream, there was a whole lot of brush that looked like it would probably capsize us again, but we could see there was a branch that hung out over the water, pointing away from the brush. Maybe if we sat in the raft and went hand-over hand along that branch, we could get far enough out that we could avoid the obstacle.

Chris volunteered to try first. I held his boat for him while he climbed in, and he got hold of the branch. He announced that he was ready, and I let go so he could start handwalking.

There are some downsides to being short sometimes.

After a couple of grabs, he lost his grip because he couldn't easily reach, and he was swept into the brush. I saw his boat capsize and I was wrapping my arm up in the rope on the side of my raft to use it as a big flat to jump in after him, when I heard his eagle cry from somewhere further downstream. This was an old trick we used to use when we were separated and trying to meet up...he'd do that call, and I'd head in his general direction. I could usually hear it from about a quarter mile away.

So Chris was all right. That was a relief. Now it was my turn to try my luck at it. Of course, this presented a whole new problem, as I didn't have anyone to hold my boat for me, and I didn't have the armspan to hold both it and the branch.

I rummaged around in the CAKE bag for a moment, and pulled out a cheap yellow nylon rope. Looping it over the branch, I crossed my fingers that friction would hold while I used the rope to hold the branch, and held the boat with my other hand to climb in after putting the CAKE bag into the raft. (By the way, I've since taken the trouble to learn to actually tie proper knots so this could have been avoided.)

After clambering in and seating myself, I reached up and got hold of the branch. Then, I carefully guided myself all the way to the end. Then I let go....

....and the current immediately shoved me toward the brush, the boat flipped over and took off down the river ahead of me. Simply reacting, I started swimming after it, thinking only of not wanting to lose my only means of transport.

I caught up to it just as the flow was slowing down into another pool, and where I saw Chris sitting on some rocks on shore, his boat beside him as he waited for me to come along. As I was about to climb up, he started laughing and pointing behind me. I turned around and saw that the CAKE bag, which I'd abandoned in my haste to catch the boat, was floating a couple feet behind me. It wasn't going past with the current....and with the hole in the top and all the waterlogged stuff inside, it should by all rights have sunk, but there it was.

"Now, that is some loyal luggage!"

We had a good laugh, and while I poured 5 gallons of river water out of the bag, we cheerfully ranted about all the things that had gone wrong since we'd gotten into the water. This was one of our running gags after having seen Willow several years before.

"We haven't found a campsite, or any way to get out. We've lost our anchor. We're soaked to the bone and have no idea how far we've gone. We've got no food, and no idea how to get back to Mike."

"Are you suggesting we go home?"

"Nah, this is more fun!"

With that, we loaded up, grabbed our paddles, and continued downstream.