The Brazos River: Day 3
We left our intrepid, but exhausted, travelers sleeping like dead men on a high sandbank overlooking the Brazos River. We find them again just after dawn, taking in a sunrise made particularly lovely by the Gulf clouds carried up by the south wind that blew all night.
Thursday, May 22nd
We struck camp slowly, drinking a pot of coffee and eating bran muffins. The wind had actually slacked off quite a bit as the sun rose, and things were looking up for our morning trip. On another positive note, Jerry and I agreed to go ahead and use the icewater from our cooler to replenish the water supply that had run low in our five-gallon container due to the extreme heat and exertion of the day before. I always keep a clean-ice cooler on a river trip (carefully bagging all food items in sealed containers); so the icewater was not only fit to drink, it added welcome freshness to the plasticky water from the big jug.
We got on the river around 9:30 and headed against a much-dimished headwind for most of the rest of the morning. We passed a couple of lovely houses, one atop a bluff and the over just above river level (complete with a COMING ONTO THIS PROPERTY IS NOT WORTH GETTING SHOT sign at the top of the stairs that led up onto the big front porch). We stopped for lunch on a rocky outcrop on the righthand bank. There was some walking over the course of the morning, as the river had fallen about another three inches overnight. But the broken cloudcover provided a welcome relief from the heat of the day before, and the beer we had with lunch was cold and delicious.
After lunch (and a second beer apiece), we continued on downriver. We passed the ten-mile take-out sign for Rochelle’s Canoe Rental and kept paddling hard against the headwind that was stiffening now. There were many more shallow spots in the afternoon that required Jerry and me to do a good bit of river-strolling. The bottom, though, is gravel-covered and easy to walk on. And the scenery is spectacular. This section of the river is truly incredible. Giant strangely-shaped boulders litter the grass-covered banks beneath towering bluffs. We saw kingfishers, cardinals, a painted bunting, and lots of fat black cattle.
Around 6 p.m., we found what I rate to be the best river campsite I’ve ever had the good fortune to come upon. The site is a broad alluvial plain that is covered with gravel ranging from pea-sized up through big river-smoothed hunks of rock. The variety of rock types is amazing. At least a quarter-mile wide at its broadest spot, the plain is bordered with dead trees on the far side from the river that make gathering firewood quick and easy. And the fishing is excellent. Jerry caught several bass and a catfish; none of them big enough to pan-fry, but certainly well worth the effort. Even I (not being much of a fisherman) was tempted to join in. But I contented myself with cooking up the last of the sausage and setting up a bonfire for later. We ate a delicious dinner, and sat around the blazing fire drinking several of the wide selection of beers we each brought for the trip. The stars were low and lovely, and the wind died almost completely with the setting sun. It was a perfect night.
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