Missouri Ozarks: Current River, Page Two.
We've now passed Akers Ferry, where we'd camped the night we arrived, paddling beneath the cable that pulls the ferry across the river. The next spring was, simply, fascinating. All these springs are associated with caves. The nearest I can figure is that springs are underground rivers that flow through caves. Here, we are inside the "Cave" of Cave Spring.
Can you say uvula? Is it allright to say that word on the internet? Sure it is. That is the name of that thing that hangs down in the back of your throat. But, maybe you thought it rhymed with the name of Jerry Seinfeld's old girlfriend.
Exiting Cave Spring.
"One Match" McLellan strikes again.
Pulltite Spring at a contemplative moment.
Laundry and bath day. At the point where the flow from Pulltite Spring enters the river.
Watercress. These salad fixins grow abundantly in the Current River. Further on down the river, we took a break at Two Rivers, where the Jacks Fork joins the Current. This being early April, it was the off season, which was also evidenced by the fact that we had the river practicaly to ourselves. There's a canoe livery at Two Rivers, which was closed; All their boats were at the store. The thing that struck me about that livery was the incredible number of canoes stacked in the yard. There must have been hundreds of them. I was glad we were making this trip in early April. It wouldn't've been the same trip having to share the river with that many people. If you plug "Current River" into a search engine, you'll come up with between 6 and 12 other liveries on the Current River. There must be hundreds of paddlers on the river on any given weekend day during the summer.
Jeff is originally from St. Louis and had spent some time tromping through these woods several years ago. That's how he learned about this cave, located high on the side of a hill overlooking the river. Many years ago, as a young man backpacking these hills, Jeff had left a sealed metal box with various supplies hidden in the mouth of this cave. When we returned, the box, or what was left of it, was still there. Its contents were mostly either rusted or rotted away, except for a spatula, a spoon and one or two other items. I expect that thousands and thousands of people have passed by this beautiful spot never having the slightest idea it was there. It is fenced because it is home to the endangered gray bat. What I want to know is who has the job of making sure all the bats who come and go have a key to the lock on the gate in this fence.
J.D. is standing in the mouth of the cave with his arms outstretched.
We saw very few people on this trip. Here are a couple college kids we met who'd come down from St. Louis for a little paddle on the river. Notice my boat in the bottom on the frame.
Here we spent the night of April 3, 1996 -- the night of a total lunar eclipse. We didn't see it. As I recall, the moon rose in eclipse. There was a considerable hill that rose up off the river to our east which hid the moon from us until it got higher in the sky. By the time it had gotten up there, the eclipse was over. We expected rain this night. This was a pretty good campsite, situated where a nice size creek comes into the river. The water in the creek was crystal clear, so clear it looked sterile. You could make out small details on the creek bottom. The water in the Current is typically pretty clear, too. But on this trip it was a little milky.
J.D. at the overlook to Blue Spring. The stream leads from Blue Spring to the river, about a quarter mile away. It is not uncommon to run across many different kinds of birds on a trip like this: varied hawks, an osprey, various ducks, cormorants, anhinga, Little Green Heron... There are typically 2 birds that you'll always see on one of these trips. The first is the Belted Kingfisher. The other is the Great Blue Heron. The routine unfolds like this. As you paddle down the river, you'll flush out either a Great Blue Heron or Kingfisher -- it applies to both. The bird will fly down the river a little ways and alight. As you continue down the river, (s)he'll get up again, fly a little ways, and land. You paddle further down, etc. This will go on 3, 4, or 5 times. Then, I suppose once the bird has gotten far enough away from his territory, one time (s)he'll get up and fly back upriver. (S)he usually does this by making a wide circle around us. You could easily have this kind of encounter on a number of occasions on any trip. Great Blue Herons and Kingfishers are very common.
Les Trois Voyageurs. I learned on this trip that Great Blue Herons have a lot in common with one of my favorite trees, the Sycamore. I like it's mottled bark, the neat little balls that are its seed pods, the shape and size of its leaves, and the considerable size I've seen this tree obtain. Plus, I have fond memories of when I first became aware of this tree. Those are of being on a sandbar on the river as a child, playing with Sycamore balls, breaking them apart and watching the little parachutes being carried away by the wind, or seeing how far across the river I could throw them. At one point on the trip we saw a huge sycamore off the river that was full of what looked to me to be squirrel nests. Upon closer examination through the binoculars, I saw Great Blue Herons standing on limbs beside many of these nests. I let out an audible gasp: this tree is a great Blue Heron rookerie! So that's where they come from! Later on we saw another mighty Sycamore full of Great Blue Heron nests. So, today, I can't see a Sycamore without vividly recalling the image of those rookeries from the Current River trip.
We did run into one tight moment on this trip. One day, a cold and windy day, Jeff in his boat and J.D. and me in my boat, were floating along side by side, engaged in some idle chat, when we looked up and noticed that we were each headed for a tight spot between two root wads. This was down on a lower section of the river where it was wider and deeper. J.D. and I hit the brakes while Jeff slipped through the gap. As we were making corrective strokes to get us through the gap, a strong gust of wind pushed us against and partially onto a root wad. The mantra in such a threateniing situation is "LEAN DOWNSTREAM." Many inexperienced paddlers tip over when they, instinctively, lean away from the obstruction, thereby leaning upstream. The current catches their boat, and over they go. Leaning downstream saved our butts that day. It was cold. Our boat was loaded with gear. There's no way Jeff was able to paddle back upstream against the current to help to us -- he had to watch helplessly as we struggled with the current on that root wad. We were pinned on top of and against that rootwad, and there was nothing for us to do but to continue to lean over our downstream gun'les while we tried to figure out what to do, while that current was trying to pull us in by our upstream gun'les. It was frightening and I shudder just sitting here writing about it. We were finally able to somehow push against a part of the rootwad while rocking the boat forward -- again while leaned over the downstream gun'les-- finally working the front of the boat into the current enough for it to help pull us off. That was a narrow escape. On a trip like this I tie everything into my boat, so we stand less of a chance of losing anything, but who wants to swim under those conditions. Here's our final camp of the trip. Another great campsite. My truck was at Big Spring. The guy from Akers Ferry had come through for us. Hoo-ahh. Another great trip.
