Spring in the Ozarks: Buffalo National River

At the heart of this trip was the beautiful Buffalo River. From its headwaters in the Ozark National Forest to its confluence with the White River, this stream flows clear and unobstructed over its entire length.The headwaters are protected by the National Forest Service as a Wild and Scenic river. The lower 135 miles are managed by the National Park Service and were designated as the country's first National River (see map).

On my first and second full days in the area, I rented a kayak and paddled the ten mile stretch of river from Ponca to Kyles Landing. Heavy rains the prior week had sent the upper Buffalo into flood stage for a few days, but by Monday the water levels had receded enough to offer an ideal float.

In this stretch, the river's turquoise waters flowed through forested valleys, past steep limestone bluffs, and through of a series of moderate rapids.

Along the way the river passed numerous creeks and sandbars that offered opportunities for relaxation and exploration.

One other thing I found as I floated along is a collection of really friendly people. Other paddlers were eager to tell me about their favorite sections of the river, their favorite trails and waterfalls, and some of them, their life stories. And on the couple of occasions where a rapids got the better of someone, they were also eager to help gather up lost possessions before they floated away.

On my fourth full day I returned to hike the Buffalo River Trail from Ponca to a bit beyond Steel Creek and back. The trail wound along the hillsides and bluffs, giving me a chance to enjoy the Buffalo from a slightly different perspective.

More Pictures from the Buffalo National River

Spring in the Ozarks: Foggy Hollow

After reaching Buffalo National River,  the first items on the agenda were arranging a float trip for the next day and having lunch at the Ozark Cafe in Jasper. But the next order of business was to pick up my key and settle into my Ozark refuge, the Foggy Hollow Cabin at Low Gap. This cabin sits on sixty acres of hillside overlooking the Steel Creek Valley between Ponca and Jasper.

It is lovely both inside and out, and has most of the comforts of home. But best of all, it has amazing back porches with views of the valley below.


These porches became the focus of my routines for the seven nights I stayed there. In the morning I'd have breakfast there, listen to the birds awaken, and the watch the mist slowly recede into the deepest hollows. In the evening I'd watch the sun descend and the stars come out, while bats and lightning bugs came to dance around the cabin. As the nights grew quiet, the sound of the creek splashing its way down the ridge would carry to the porch.

At night it got truly dark, so the stars and moon were exceptionally bright. In addition to the bats and lightning bugs, there were numerous moths that would flutter around any source of light. And on my first night there,  a chorus of coyotes sang me a lullaby.

During the day the woods were filled with birds including crows, titmice, nuthatches, bluejays, and woodpeckers -- including pileated woodpeckers. On two different mornings, flocks of wild turkeys passed through the yard. I saw evidence of deer near the pond but never actually spotted one.

A few observations might help convey the seclusion of this area:

• The traction control system on my RAV4 frequently engaged when heading up the rather steep gravel driveway in the morning.
• I was once obliged to move my car while having lunch at the excellent cafe just up the road in Low Gap. Why? I was blocking the hitching post when a group of riders came through.
• Mobile phone coverage is so spotty that on several evenings I found myself driving to a nearby hilltop to get enough signal to check the weather and send a few emails. 

All in all Foggy Hollow was a beautiful serene haven tucked into the hills. And it served as a perfect base of operations for my Ozark adventures.

More Pictures from Foggy Hollow

Spring in the Ozarks: Arrival

The second day of my trip started early. After a shower and a quick breakfast, I checked out of the hotel and headed to the local supermarket to pick up a few perishables for the week ahead. Access to a large grocery store can be difficult once you get into the hills. Soon afterwards I was driving west on I-40 on yet another beautiful day.

As I neared Lake Dardanelle, I kept my eyes open for bald eagles. On my previous trip through the area I spotted one taking off from a tree near the lake and flying over the interstate. On this day, however, I saw only vulturas soaring over the roadway and white pelicans wheeling over the lake.

In the nearly five hundred miles I covered on the prior day, I gained only two hundred feet of elevation. In the sixty miles between Conway and Clarksville, I quickly gained another two hundred. And that was just the beginning. At Clarksville I left the interstate and turned north.

Soon I was entering the Ozark National Forest on Arkansas Highway 21, an Ozark Highlands Scenic Byway. A highway sign read Crooked and Steep Next 20 Miles and it was true. The road starting winding its way up into the hills with numerous ten and fifteen MPH curves along the way.

As the highway climbed, spring took a few steps backwards. Some of the hardwoods were still bare while others showed pale green leaves that were just beginning to open. In the understory, redbud trees were in the final stages of their show just as the pale dogwoods were getting started. Taken together, they made for a lovely medley.

After winding through the forest for an hour or more, the highway descended from the national forest and entered the bounds of Buffalo National River at Boxley.

During my last visit to the area in the fall of 2010, the river was completely dry here. Heavy rains the prior week led to expect a different story this time and I wasn't to be disappointed. The Buffalo was flowing vigorously at the Boxley bridge and that boded well for the entire trip. This time my explorations would have the sound of running water as background music.

The creeks, springs, waterfalls, and the Buffalo River itself would be my playground for the next seven days.

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