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Above the Highlander, the nose of the upside-down canoe points the way to San Marcos. Cruise control
melts the miles effortlessly while County Crows’ music sets the ambiance for 70 MPH time slicing. The mind slips back into musical memories. Blue bonnets, spotted with pinkish red Paint Brushes, peek above new lime green grass fly by on the left and right of the freeway luring me out of the city. On the road again with freshly showered dripping hair, sun drying through the drivers side window. What more could a person want?
“I want to walk on water every chance I get.” (Counting Crows) At every river crossing I grasp long travel glances at river levels and force. “Time and time again.” The bright green grass quivered next to the brittle red-brown stand of last year. A background of bare trees and bushes visually enact early March.
Luling- 24 miles. Yahoo! That sign woke me up. San Marcos River is getting closer. Carcass’s of car tires liter the shoulders as white center stripes on dark pavement tick time away. I should be there by 3:30. Yeah. It’s getting warm in here, over 70 degrees in the car. I packed for 40 degrees and rain like yesterdays weather in Houston. Give Texas 24 hours and you’ll think you're in another country.
Yes, this is what I remember...just a few road signs, greenness, old leaning buildings of rustic farm houses...I remember this world. Yesterday, a satellite phone with games and downloaded music made me feel like a character in I Robot. The trees here are so old you can’t put your arms around them. My cells are jumping out of my skin I’m so happy to be here. Renewal time.
Arrived at Pecan Park. Hello’s to Paula and Tom. Up with the tent and sun cover after lots of thought on placement. Visiting with others who start showing up. A camp fire with friends and stories. God and politics. “How did you get started canoeing?” Almost everyone was a scout. Early to bed with a good nights sleep. Up early, everyone gathers together for information, goodies, and cleanup equipment. Decisions on sections of the river on which to work. Wheels rolling to shuttle destinations. Ready to embark on the rolling cfs of the San Marcos River.
I felt fear and trembling. Told everyone, too! Last time I was on this river it was high and I turned over at Cotton Seed. This memory made me nervous. It was one of those grab the canoe, hold onto the paddle in slow motion while fast forward movement took everything downstream. Frigid H20 rushed up my spine and neck. A canoe club hero saved me with a throw line. Two other thoughtful club members said good things about how I managed my chaotic gear in the rapids. That saved face. Out of that memory, back to the here and now.
I hadn’t been paddling in almost a year. Asked everybody to keep an eye on me. Especially the seasoned canoeist. They make quick decisions and act on them. Instructions were given by the leader. Boats slid into brisk water where people instantly started gathering debris. As Janice said, people got into it so much they would have collected a building if they’d seen one.
The first S turn. Everyone made it. I managed to survive hitting a rock, getting pinned, getting unpinned, then over the river’s watery ledge almost water free. That got me pumping. Confidence came into play. If I can get out of that situation so easily Cotton Seed may be a horse on which I can once again mount. Courage, courage.
We gathered trash. As I glanced back at the cleaned areas my heart soared into a smile. It’ll be pleasant to paddle here again knowing I was a part of the reason Mother Nature looks so beautiful and serene.
Cotton Seed coming up. Everyone is out of their boats looking at the river making their choices of route. I listened to all them . Watched a few go through. Decided it was time to do it. Paddled slowly on my route. Got to the eddy before the dam and decided my heart would burst if I didn’t line my boat through the rocks. But I couldn’t do it. The current was too swift to try to get out of the boat. I eased up to the front of the eddy. Two boats came through. One didn’t hesitate, plowed right through the opening. The other tandem came up beside me. I told them to go ahead. I was shaking like a leaf and my heart was beating faster than a rabbits. Actually, I could have blown an EKG machine off the wall.
I watched how they handled and read the river as they pulled out of the eddy. Once they were through the rapids my decision was made. I pulled out of the eddy and over the dam. Hey, nothing to it. Lean back and brace. Courage, courage. I could conquer anything now. I was feeling confident. No one went over. Not even me! Was I ever happy. With arms and legs trembling, I got out of the boat for lunch as if nothing had happened.
Rain came. People were ready to get back to camp. Out at Skulls, line up the boats on land, do the shuttle dance, strap and tie on the boats. It was pouring rain by this time.
A phone call from my daughter in Austin wanting me to come have dinner with her helped me decide to pack my gear. The Kelty Suncover, rain cover in this instance, sheltered me, my tent, and my car for breakdown. Said good-bye to all the good people with whom I’d shared this adventure. I headed to Austin for an evening of warm dry pleasure.
Drove home Sunday morning. The car looked like a container of those things that grow in water. The pace quickens and your equipment thickens. Plastic bags saved the car from drippy mud and water . Strange to use nice clean crisp slick stuck together plastic bags after breathing the dust filled dried out ones on the river clean up. Soon I’ll be home. It’ll take a day to clean this stuff. I actually enjoy that. It feels good to have helped with the clean up. Really good.
Special thanks to John B. who loaned me velcro, to
John and Anne O. who gave me confidence, to Rudy who
analyzed how I got my boat pinned and gave me advice,
to John O. who stood by with a throw rope as I entered
Cotton Seed, to the people who made me laugh, to the
ones who told great stories at camp, and to everyone
who greeted me with a smile and hello, who stood by me
and paddled with me. It takes a whole tribe to raise a
child. It takes the whole group to make a good trip.
As they say in the club, see ya on river for another
adventure. Yeah, it was a great trip. I’ve gotta go on
another one.
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