Spring in the Ozarks: Outward Bound

After a year and a half of only short excursions, the opportunity for a longer trip was finally at hand. The destination was the Ozark Mountains of northern Arkansas and the Buffalo National River. The goal was a week of relaxation and recreation in beautiful unspoiled country.

The trip could have had a better start. Beltway 8 North was closed  at US290, so my most direct route out of Houston was blocked. As an alternate, I opted to take FM1960 East and rejoin the Beltway at Tomball Parkway. Unfortunately it seemed that every stoplight along FM1960 turned red as I reached it. It felt as though I was stuck in Houston's gravitational field and couldn't get free.

But after taking a few deep breaths for patience, I finally made it to the freeway and achieved escape velocity. I headed north on US59 and soon left Houston behind. The plan for the first day was to cross eastern Texas and southern Arkansas, bypass Little Rock, and stop for the night in Conway. From there it would be a short drive into the Ozarks the next day.

The weather was absolutely gorgeous. As I crossed eastern Texas, the contrast with late last year was enormous. The heavy rains of winter and spring have started  healing the wounds of last year's drought. The streams were flowing strongly, new green leaves were on the trees, and wildflowers were beginning to bloom along the highway.

Traffic was light and the miles went by quickly. Soon I was passing into Arkansas at Texarkana and crossing the Red River. A few hours later the impressive Arkansas River was behind me and I cruised into Conway with plenty of time to get checked in at my hotel before dinner.

An Outback Steakhouse within easy walking distance of the hotel satiated my appetite for food and drink. Afterwards I settled into my room for the night, excited about tomorrow's return to the Ozarks.

Anticlimax

Last Saturday, one week before the Buffalo Bayou Regatta, a group of us made a test run of the course. The weather was beautiful and the current was slow. The rapids and strainers that plagued me on my prior upstream paddles barely slowed us down. Bring on the Regatta!

But Mother Nature had other plans. The clouds let loose the next Friday and the bayou started to rise. The weekend forecast didn't look much better but I wasn't going to let that stop me. On race day the first thing I did was check for updates. The regatta was still on, so I packed up and got ready to leave. I was just about to hit the road when I got word that the race was cancelled due to weather and water conditions. What a letdown!

Still, the weekend wasn't a total loss from a boating standpoint. On Sunday a hardy group of us braved the rain and met at Buffalo Run Park to work on our kayaking skills. Among other things, we voluntarily dumped ourselves out of our kayaks to practice solo and assisted deep water recovery. Let me tell you, the water was cold and the air wasn't much better once we climbed out!

Still, I learned some new tricks that should help me stay upright in the kayak, and got some good practice on recovering if needed. When and if they reschedule the Regatta, I'm ready!

Rematch denied

All of the signs pointed toward an epic rematch: man (and boat) vs. rapids. The weather was sunny and almost warm. The water level in Buffalo Bayou was dropping as the bulk of Saturday's flood waters headed for the bay. I was ready to take another crack at the rapids near Chimney Rock which so rudely ejected me during my last upstream paddle.

I arrived at the Woodway Drive access point, readied my kayak, and made my way down toward the bayou. Undaunted by the three or four inches of fresh mud deposited by the falling waters, I pulled my kayak the last few feet to the bayou and shoved off . The current was strong but manageable as I passed under the Woodway bridge and headed upstream toward my destiny.

My focus on the coming battle made me almost oblivious to the numerous soft shell turtles sunning along the banks and sliding into the water at my approach. And the sounds of jays, cardinals, titmice and the occasional pileated woodpecker fell largely on deaf ears. I paddled onward to meet the enemy!

I was about a half mile from the battlefield when I noticed a change in the air. The sound of the birds was obscured by the sound of rushing water.  And some type of obstruction was visible in the water ahead. I beached my kayak on the sand bar and scouted ahead on foot.

What I found infuriated me. Several uprooted trees had been deposited against the bank, constricting the flow of the bayou and whipping up the current.  What was worse was that the branches of one of the trees extended out into the portion of channel that wasn't fully blocked, creating what's called a strainer. I climbed out onto one of the tree trunks to get a view upstream.

Beyond the obstruction were relatively calm waters and my date with destiny. But how to get there?  The sandbar I was using to scout didn't extend far enough to accomplish a portage. To reach the far side one option was to go up a steep embankment, through someone's yard, and then back down another steep slope to the bayou. That looked difficult and probably wouldn't be appreciated by the homeowner.  The other option was to go over the root ball of one of the fallen trees.  That looked even more problematic.

Perplexed but undaunted, I retrieved my picnic lunch from my kayak and settled on the sand bar to eat and think. Maybe inspiration would strike.  Or maybe the waters would fall fast enough to let me sneak around the obstruction.

It didn't.  They didn't.

I scouted the sand bar one more time to see if I'd missed anything, but I hadn't.  I took to my kayak and paddled up to the base of the strainer, looking for a way through by water. It looked possible I could squeeze through against the current. But it also looked possible that I could get tangled in the tree limbs with unfortunate results.

Retreat leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. But I know in my heart that strainer didn't form by chance. The rapids knew I was coming for it and feared me. Coward! You may have saved yourself on Sunday, but I'll be back.  And next time I'll be coming at you from upstream!

To be continued...

Winter's Heart?

Does it sound strange if I say it has been a great winter for kayaking? First, the weather has been so mild that it let me get out on the water three times in January and once so far in February.  The first trip was to Armand Bayou where this monster of an alligator was happily soaking in the January sun.

The second unusual thing by recent standards is that rain has finally returned to Houston and started eroding the drought. While Lake Conroe remains a bit low, Lake Houston has almost fully recovered and just today Sheldon Lake was re-opened for boating.

In two of my three excursions on Buffalo Bayou, water was actually in surplus. Instead of the usual leisurely paddle, it made for aerobic exercise going upstream and quite a ride coming back down!

What's next?  We'll see, but I'm thinking of signing up for the Buffalo Bayou Regatta in March!


More Pictures From My Winter Paddles

A day for the birds from Armand Bayou to Clear Lake

When mother nature presented me with a gorgeous, sunny Saturday morning in November, I found myself loading up the kayak and driving south once again. The morning chill lingered as I launched but the lightness of the breeze deprived it of its bite. I turned my bow downstream, determined to follow the bayou's course to Clear Lake for the first time. The character of the channel to the south of the park is quite different than the narrow northern stretch. It broadens progressively as it winds its way toward Mud Lake, finally finding its end in Clear Lake and through it, Galveston Bay. 

The character of the wildlife changed along with the bayou. While the chattering kingfishers and wading birds patiently fishing along the banks were familiar, my old friends the alligators didn't make an appearance. Instead some new players took the field as I worked my way downstream.

Across from the park, a row of gulls sat resting on tree that had fallen in the shallows. Soon after leaving them in my wake, I spotted this osprey perched above the bayou with the breeze ruffling his feathers.

I paddled on for a time before encountering a sight to make any Louisiana boy smile -- two brown pelicans sitting on stumps and basking in the morning sun. They were content to let me watch them preen as long as I kept a respectful distance.

While I lingered to watch the pelicans, I noticed a disturbance in the water ahead. A closer look with the binoculars revealed a deer swimming across the bayou. Before long it emerged into the shallows and disappeared into the woods of the Armand Bayou Nature Center.

As I continued along my way, the pelicans became more numerous:  perched on stumps, skimming over the bayou with their wingtips nearly touching the water, and wheeling overhead in large flocks.

Finally I reached Mud Lake where the wild character of the bayou's banks gives way to human development, and fishermen in gasoline powered boats start to outnumber those in kayaks. I paddled across its length and under the NASA Road 1 bridge, where the bayou empties into Clear Lake.

From the mouth of the bayou I could see all the way to the bridge at Kemah. The lake was alive with boats of all descriptions and despite the moderate breeze, the swells were the largest I've experienced in my kayak.  After surfing the swells for a time, I crossed back into Mud Lake and landed at Clear Lake Park for a picnic.

Fully refueled, I turned back upstream for an enjoyable paddle back to the launch.

More Pictures from Armand Bayou

Horsepen Bayou on a nearly perfect day

The first cool air of fall chased away the summer heat and drew me back to the water after a long absence. I returned to Armand Bayou, but for the first time I turned my kayak downstream toward Mud Lake. I rounded the curve of the bayou into a fairly stiff wind, with waves occasionally splashing over the side of the boat. By the time I reached the confluence with Horsepen Bayou, I was happy to turn into its sheltered waters.

The bayou was alive small bait fish, mullet, gar, turtles and the occasional alligator. In the air and trees above it were herons, egrets, kingfishers, and several hawks. I paddled upstream into the midst of the UH Clear Lake campus before turning back. Days like this remind me why fall in Texas is second only to spring in my affections.

More Pictures from Horsepen Bayou

No marshmallows required

The boat ramp is deserted as I arrive at Sheldon Lake in the predawn light. A few minutes later I am skimming across the water in my kayak, through air that is still and saturated with moisture. I pause to watch the sun climb over the eastern shoreline. The first hints of a morning breeze ripple the water and scatter the worst of the humidity.

As the sun clears the horizon I resume paddling toward the middle of the lake. Since my last visit, the water level has dropped farther and the growth of the aquatic plants has gone into overdrive. I weave between rafts of water lilies and mats of floating grasses. The birds become more active, with cormorants sunning themselves in the treetops and roseate spoonbills fishing in the shallows. I approach a small cypress tree and stop to watch an alligator laying in the shallow water at its base.

I move on to the east until the water becomes too shallow and I'm forced to change course toward the south and west. I hop from one cluster of cypress trees to the next and then into areas of open water surrounded by fields of lilies in bloom. Soon I spot the second alligator of the day and it's an unusually bold one. Rather than retreating or submerging as they usually do, it swims slowly in my direction. Is it being aggressive or just hoping I'll feed it? I'm not sure and I have no marshmallows*, so I maintain some spacing and observe it for a while before moving on. I continue to work my way through the lily fields, spotting four more alligators along the way.  Finally I run out of open water to paddle and make my way back to the launch. 

Without significant rain there may not be much water to paddle here by summer's end, but today was truly lovely.


More Pictures from Sheldon Lake

* The marshmallow thing is a True Blood reference and a joke. Don't feed the gators! :)