The Brazos River: Day 2
When we left Jerry and myself, we were sitting next to a roaring fire, enjoying the sounds of nightbirds and coyotes, and the whisper of John Graves’s river passing by our camp. We’ll pick up just before sunup, as the dawn breeze flapping the tent wakes us to a perfectly clear sky.
Wednesday, May 21st
I made coffee just as dawn was breaking. We ate a light breakfast and Jerry caught a perch and a largemouth bass while I struck camp. Neither fish was a keeper, but the omens looked good for eating-sized fish at bigger holes downriver. We lollygagged and enjoyed our lovely campsite until around 9:15 a.m., when we finally put the canoe in the river.
We spent the morning alternately floating and paddling against a moderate headwind through that same mix of wide gravel-bottomed shallows and deep pools lined with huge gray boulders. There were high banks with bluffs behind them on one side, and on the other side the low banks were thick with trees. We stopped for lunch on another pea gravel peninsula and Jerry fished while I sat and wrote a while. Jerry caught another largemouth bass; but once again, it wasn’t quite big enough to pan-fry.
We battled a fierce headwind for most of the afternoon. As the Brazos twisted and turned, the headwind would occasionally become a tailwind; but since the wind blew straight out of the south, it stayed mostly a headwind. This section of river consists of wide lakelike sections with almost no current, alternating with a series of shallow rapids. Many of the rapids were so shallow as to require both Jerry and I to get out and walk. The bluffs here are much taller, some rising as high as three hundred feet; and the salt cedars with their lavendar blooms, along with the Indian blankets and blackeyed Susans, make the walking lovely. But I highly recommend a pair of good water shoes.
We finally reached the Highway 4 Bridge around 7 p.m. This is the halfway point to the Highway 180 take-out. We pushed on a ways, and took out on a high sand bank about a mile and a half below the bridge. We were tired, and the wind was gusting hard enough now to make setting up camp difficult. We pitched the tent, had a cold supper, and hit the hay early, still tasting the sand that the wind kicked up. In the night, a particularly fierce gust ripped the raincover off the tent. I had to get up, chase the raincover down, and anchor it with the icechest. Otherwise, we slept like the two exhausted paddlers/walkers that we were.
No Comments
No comments yet.
Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI
Leave a comment