Llamas, Anyone?
by Robert Langley

Llamas, Anyone?

By Robert Langley

One of the great things about paddling is that it has something to offer to just about everyone. The boat is a marvelous vessel, capable of transporting a paddler wherever he wishes. It takes the adrenalin junky to his next big thrill, the sportsman on the path to his next trophy and the paddler seeking tranquility to a placid world of natural beauty.

One of the best things about paddling is the opportunity to see wild things in their native (though sometimes not so natural habitats). While paddling, I have seen turtles, deer, snakes, cows, water fowl of all kinds, an occasional bald eagle, and encountered a shameful number of fish (up close and personal through no fault of theirs.) One of the strangest sites I have ever come across was a striped water snake sunning itself while draped over three turtles in what can only be described as reptilian harmony.

With the exception of my second son, who once befriended a baby turtle on the Guadalupe, I have rarely seen anyone earn the affection of river wildlife. All that changed on a recent paddle down the stretch of the Colorado River between Webberville and the 969 bridge. Over the years this stretch of river has become my favorite section for my scouts to make their first overnight canoe trip. Several conveniently place islands create ideal camping spots. Due to the heavy rains this past summer, many of the islands had been submerged for months. When the time to make this year’s trip approached, I thought it wise to scout the river. On a warm October day, six paddlers set off to re-explore a familiar section of the river. When we approached the first island, I was prepared to see a sandbar stripped of all vegetation; I was not prepared for what lay before me. There on an island in the middle of the river stood a big black llama! Being a city boy, I don’t claim to have any real knowledge of conventional livestock, let alone lamas, but if I recall llamas are related to camels and camels spit (this is the extent of my knowledge). For whatever reason this particular llama did not seem to want to spit, perhaps because he was too preoccupied with his attempt to snuggle with one of my paddling partners with whom he seemed hopelessly enamored. I don’t know if it was his cigar or scent after a long warm paddle (both had limited appeal in my opinion) but the llama seemed helpless to resist my partner’s mysterious allure. Alas, relationships are short lived with llamas. When we returned the following weekend with the scout the llama was nowhere to be found. Just as well; I suppose the boys are a bit young to be exposed to llama love.