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Saline Creek Trip Report

by Peyton

Paddlewisers...

The cloudless, confederate-gray, pre-dawn sky of last Saturday slowly begins to lighten with salmon-pink and orange tinges of color low on the eastern horizon. A huge dollop of cream cheese lies low to the west. A tired moon which has worked hard all night is now waning and slowly slides into the dark tree line nothingness about a click away. I have been on the water a little more than an hour and like many, many others on through many, many thousands of years I am waiting on sunrise. I always enjoy a sunrise ...it just happens so early though ! I miss most of them, even when camping out. Time was, the only thing I despised was running ...now, it seems waking up early is trying to get added to the list. But, I wouldn't miss this morning for anything !

Another hideous Louisiana summer has come to an end. We had a cool snap about 3 weeks ago to blunt back this years mosquito crop, which really hasn't been so bad this year. And, now the weatherman is "unusually" accurate with a prediction of high 30's and a big high pressure dome flushing the miserable humidity. I put on more clothes at the put-in and still feel cozy and comfortable after paddling out toward to middle of a large 4,000 acre "hole" in this huge swampy forest. Lots of shallow flats with countless deeper water braided channels make this long abandoned commercial soy bean field look more like a marsh with tall tufts of hearty grasses co-mingling with the dark water. Willows have made a comeback and outline hundreds of small pothole areas with deep water pools within. This area becomes part of the huge flooded backwater of our local swamp by year end. At one time back in the early 70's laser-leveling equipment and powerful machinery had most of this place as flat as a billiard table. Spill water out of a canteen and it didn't know which way to run ...I'm glad the willows won out, and the soy bean farmer finally wised up. The place is now part of a National Wildlife Refuge.

After a particularly dry summer, there are slim pickings for the snow-white egrets and other long legged wading birds who stay in here full time. They stand like silent sentrys on guard for breakfast at regularly spaced spots along a thin finger of dry land. Lots of ducks for this time of the year, too.

Mallards and pin-tails ...already here ? These can't be flight ducks. Must be a few fool-headed flocks that decided to ride out our viscious summer and avoid the travel. Next year I bet they take the first flight out ! The squealer wood ducks stay year round in the surrounding forest cover. Plenty of hardwood flats and secluded sloughs with year round springs to keep them happy. Blue, and green teal everywhere. I hear the wind rush overhead as a large group of mallards slide smoothly out of the cold morning air and down toward the dark glossy surface. Wind over duck wings and the splash of water sure gets your attention and makes the heart beat faster !

Wisps of ghostlike fog rise from the water. Thicker in places and spiraling up, it is a magic to watch. The sky lightens more and a hint of blue begins to appear there. Not a cloud to be seen and soon I am paddling and squinting directly into a bright, fiery orange-red gash that seems to bridge earth, sky, water, and the bow of my kayak with the same elegant brush stroke of light. I glide silently to a stop and bring the sun to my back. The coloring, with the glare gone from my eyes, reminds me of an old Dutch master's painting. Muted shades of color form a tapestry of images. Dark greens of pine and cedar mix with the yellow, red, and orange of the scrub and the oak and hickory. Summac redefines the image of fire-engine red. Grasses, some green and some light tan form a craddle for the dark, smooth glassy expanse of open water before me. Maybe waking up early isn't so bad after all !!

Over to Holland's Bluff is a straight line distance of about 2 miles and I set a smooth easy pace in that direction. About half way there and I am running out of water. I feel the bottom with my paddle tips first and later see puffs of sediment stirred by the kayak's passage through the shallow water. I don't want to step out here. Probably pretty mucky by the looks of what sticks to the paddle tips.

As I come to a dead stop I see the humpback rush of a grass carp working on breakfast ...half in water and half out. He's having trouble with the shallow water too it looks like. Several thrashing rushes and the fish comes to a dead stop also, about 15 feet directly ahead of me. His large gills seem to be pumping air and water. I watch the fish, and I guess the fish watches me. We stay that way for several minutes and I gradually move on ...as quietly as I can. The carp reminds me of a hitchhiker as I silently move past him in the gliding kayak.

I make deeper water and continue at a relaxed pace across the flat. Engine noise from an early morning fisherman's boat reminds me that I am not really this alone. At this time of year all of the powerboats are confined to the main channel. Several more flights of ducks rise ahead of me, but end up flying a huge complete circle, coming almost directly overhead, and settling back down behind me. I guess they read the hunting pamphlets like everyone else ! It is a delight to see their vibrant coloration and wing patterns up this close.

I decide to stop on the high ground ahead of me. There is small knoll and some niced sized willows there for shade. After hauling out, I take thermos, snack, and binocs to the highest spot and sit cross-legged Indian fashion in the marvelous morning sunshine and shade. I am transported to an oasis ...somewhere ...anywhere ...everwhere. The morning wind freshens and an exhilerating breeze is now rustling the leaves and sparkling the sand as the sunlight filters onto and through me and the willows ! A stretch and a long, deep yawn cause me to go search the stern bulk for my hammock. It isn't there. Guess, I'll have to pay closer attention to my packing details on these early morning expeditions. At one time or another everything will be needed, but it cannot all be carried ...yes, you may quote me on that !!

What a wonderful fall day to have a kayak paddle in your hand.

...adieu ...Peyton (Louisiana)


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