Bigbend Area Paddlers' Network
| 6/13-15/03 Blackwater River State Forest, Sweetwater & Juniper Creeks |
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Friday it rained like crazy most of the way over to Crestview. I kept saying to myself; no one in their right mind goes camping in weather like this. I also kept driving.
By the time I got to Bear Lake, the sun was mostly out and the only thing really soggy on my arrival was Michael Lampman. He was dripping wet. Why? I am not quite sure. His camp was made and he looked quite comfortable - just really wet. After I got my camp in order Michael and I peddled around the 6 mile Bear Lake loop that begins and ends right there in the campground. The trail was very similar to our own Munson Hills trail off of Woodville hwy. Just wetter and with a little more elevation change. For those of you that dare follow us on that odyssey allow me to give you a tip: Either go immediately after a hard rain as we did, or take an ATV and a rope to pull you and your bike through the sugar sand. We got very lucky and had a great ride. Several stream crossings and a couple of places the trail was in the stream bed made it a wet refreshing exhausting fun time. Saturday morning dawned cool and fresh. In fact, the weather all day Saturday was pretty close to perfect. What wasn't so good was the put-in situation. As it turns out the waterway connecting Bear Lake to the Sweetwater is a pair of culvert pipes. The 'designated' put-in a mile down the road appeared to be designed for people with the ability to levitate their boats and gear using mind power. After a couple of . . dead ends, we found a launch site on Sandy Landing Road, off Munson Hwy. It allowed us to launch successfully by dropping the boats into the water, then dropping our bodies into the boats from the overhanging tree limbs. We made it about 30 yards before we got out of the boats for the first portage. The next three hours or so consisted of similar skill drills every few yards. The Sweetwater is a fast river, especially fast with the runoff from the recent Typhoons. Each and every obstruction presented a technical problem that made for a very enjoyable and challenging paddle. By the time we came to the confluence of Sweetwater and Juniper Creeks we were very tired and very happy campers. Juniper is significantly wider that most of the Sweetwater was. This made for more room to maneuver and signaled the last trip onto the obstructions to drag the danged boat over. It was only shortly after merging into Juniper Creek that we came to the first of many beautiful sandbars. We stopped, and on a nice large carpet of small smooth pebbles with a white sand beach border we rested, replenished, and washed the yuck off of everything. I obviously couldn't see myself, but I can tell you that Michael looked like he had been on another mountain bike ride in the mud - only dirtier. We were having the time of our lives!! Have you ever noticed that Mother Nature has a way of washing all the human debris away with flotsam? Things that normally sink like a rock will float like a buoy when caught up in that stuff. Cans, bottles, Volkswagens, barbwire, lawn chairs, doll parts, old M1-Abrahms ARMY tanks - it's all there in the flotsam waiting to carve you and your beloved boat to shreds. It leaves this ugly brown foam mustache on the front of the boat too!! Anyway . . . it is comforting to see Mother Nature get to flush this garbage off the land once in a while. I wish it could end up back in the appropriate owner's living room. Don't get me wrong, I think it was because I was paddling (and pulling) a boat on it's maiden voyage I had just put in 160 million hours building with my own two hands that I feature this flotsam so prominently. Both the Sweetwater and the Juniper are nothing short of fabulously beautiful rivers, and in remarkably good condition for the amount of use they apparently get. On the way down the Juniper we also came upon our first beached human. This gentleman looked like a movie star out by the pool. Right down to the fancy lawn chair, designer sunglasses, and 100 pound portable CD player. How he got there we hadn't a clue. Neither Michael nor myself said a word to each other. But we knew; we had just reentered the twilight zone. Two sandbars later, we were at the good 'ol boys hoe-down. Bosephus was even belting out the song about "being raised on shotguns" from the monster truck parked halfway up a tree on the bank. Michael said something after we rounded that curve. But I really couldn't make it out. Something about hearing a banjo and abandoning the boat on the far bank to run like hell - but it wasn't really clear. I was still listening to Bocephus. Before too long we came to a bridge with a big sign on it saying "STOP. ALL CANOE, TUBE AND KAYAK TRIPS END HERE". We briefly pondered whether this was divine intervention sending us a message, or intended for some outfitter's clients. We decided that either way we had earned a trip into town for a fancy dinner. We were back from dinner well before dark, which we noticed had not happened by 9:35 PM. I think it was at that point, we both realized not only were we back in the twilight zone, but in another time zone as well. It was really only 8:35PM. I didn't make it to 9:PM local time, and I don't think Michael did either. Sunday morning was just about perfect too. Cool, clean smelling, and not too bright. As Michael headed back to the rat race, I sat in my chair by the lake and drank my coffee wondering how the poor folks live. Statistics Mike O'Lary mikeo@paddletally.org |
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