Big Raccoon Creek - Mansfield to Bridgeton 8/21/2005

A Great Blue Heron flaps and powers itself above the trees. A Kingfisher makes a splash and flies away with a Raccoon Creek morsel. Sometimes the kingfishers are silent and sometimes they warn like a bad school yard whistle. We are just passing through on our super linear polyethylene personal watercraft taking only pictures and leaving not even footprints.


The water sparkles when it is runs fast, we read the creek: creek bends right, look for current and deep water on the left (and vice versa); hazards above the water are identified and avoided, we call out advice to one another; avoid the underwater hazard indicated by a v shaped ripple coming toward you; head for the middle of the inverted v ripples that indicate current flow converging.  

When it becomes green and quiet, there is time to watch the sun filter through the trees. Bright green rays shine through the dark shade of the thick old growth of trees that line the banks. There is another rank of trees standing behind them and more behind them making the farm fields we know to fill Parke County seem distant. A white Sycamore towers and causes us to look. Why stand naked of bark o' great Sycamore? Another Sycamore's leaves catch and hold the sunlight like pancake sized golden ornaments on a dark green shade tree and is mirrored in the green stream.

To a background of cicadas, a silent Monarch butterfly meanders upstream and turns my head up and back. Coyly, she stops on an overhanging branch for me to have one more look. Come here often? 

I wonder if the creek bed in this section is limestone - it is stone of some kind and easy to walk if you must. Black Eyed Susans line the bank for observation on one side then the other. In the sun, I think some of them have brown eyes this late in their season.  

A peek of a barn red bridge grows until it fills the sky then shows natural wood underneath and is gone. Not really gone - just behind us. The next covered bridge, where we took our kayaks out last year, is really gone. Arson. I followed the news when it happened but this is my first time to see the Bridgeton Covered Bridge gone. It sure leaves a big empty place.

We took our kayaks out a few minutes before they would have floated by it. 

Sugar Creek on the last Sunday in July

Driving north on Parke County 600 at a point where the drainage ditch is several feet below the road, a bird appeared at my right as if to merge but splayed out his wings and red tail feathers to drop upon some unlucky prey. I had not seen a red-tailed hawk from this perspective before.
I passed him as he settled into the ditch and that's how I got such a good look at him.

A few miles north, I parked in the shade and waited for the others to arrive at a covered bridge over Sugar Creek, the West Union Bridge, our take-out.

We left my truck there and took two vehicles and 4 kayaks to the Jackson Bridge a few miles upstream. If you asked someone to paint a picture of a covered bridge, you'd get red but the Jackson Bridge is white and I'll be sure to get a photo of it next time. This time I focused instead on a group of horses and riders who forded the river just as we entered the stream.



The Jackson Bridge on Sugar Creek is the longest span still in use. Many of the covered bridges have white faces (or openings) and barn red sides but the Jackson has white sides. This diagram shows how it has been holding itself up since 1861. 

The water level of Sugar Creek was barely enough to float us in some places and deep enough for cliff diving in others. Nancy took the lead more often than not and she has become a superior paddler. She reads the creek well and makes her kayak go where she wants. Sometimes the current runs sideways like water off the crown of a country pavement and it is best to go with it because if you don't, you'll be left on a sandbar. The current will swirl downstream and give you a good ride and you can look ahead to the next adventure.

A bald eagle rose from the branch of a tree not far from the Jackson Bridge and gave us a good view of his white tail as he flew slow and low downstream before us as if to say I'm not afraid of you; I just decided to go hunting. We encountered two other balds on the trip, closer than the first but not as spectacular. I have read that there were more than a dozen bald eagles on Sugar Creek a few years ago. I don't know it the population is growing or not. Since our school days, we have been conditioned to salute the image of the bald eagle with white head held high but it is also a privilege to see one in the wild with sparkling white tail feathers shown from below. This link will give a feel of what we saw if you have a broadband connection.

Sugar Creek is wide as a river in some parts and although the banks are tree lined, there is little shade at midday. I allow the paddle to drip cool water on my legs. I have not found a replacement for my Chevy Truck canvas hat that I lost on the Eel River a few weeks ago. I've tried straw and I've tried canvas. The Tilley hat has some appeal but it cost 65 bucks and I'm afraid it would make me look like I'm trying too hard. It is going to be hard to find a hat that will replace my old one. The light cotton desert cap with flaps works better today than the canvas hat. It gives sun protection but doesn't make my head sweat. It sure looks dumb though.

After lunch on a shady sandbar, we continue. There are a lot of trees in the water on this second half of our trip and we pick our way through them carefully. With a little more current, we would be in trouble in this section but today it is just enough of a challenge to keep us alert. We startle a heron now and then and once in a while a sandpiper chee-wee-wees at us while crossing the creek and now and then we hear a woodpecker knocking on a tree in the distant woods but most of the noise is our own pointing out hazards to one another or wondering out loud which line to take through a run or arranging the next rest break. We cooled ourselves with a swim and then a floating rest break at a cool spot under a tree before arriving at the take-out bridge.


Bryce glides by a diving rock. 


Notice the full sun at right. Good thing I was covered with SPF 45. 


http://www.swparke.k12.in.us/canal/parke.htm 

There is a stone column upstream from Dean in the above picture. Many years ago, I heard that we have more bridges over roads than over streams and it is only more so today but there was a time when we sent canal water on aqueducts over streams, water over water if you will. I think the column in the picture is an artifact of that time. Page down twice from this link to see a diagram.

We used ropes, pulleys and wheels to overcome gravity on the take out then we jockeyed kayaks and trucks until we could shake hands and leave the peaceful adventure of kayaking until the next time.

Brycewest took a couple dozen excellent pictures of the trip.
 

To Old Hill

I went out to the garage to get my cell phone and camera this morning. Yesterday Dean and I and one of his friends from work, Kendall, kayaked on one of the few streams with enough water, middle Eel River, and I left everything in the El Camino when I got home: muddy kayak and river boots, wet tee shirt and sweaty straw hat, kayak seat and life vest, cell phone and my camera in its waterproof case. In the dark garage, I noticed the interior lights were on because I left the driver's door open. I tooted the horn and made a rough assessment of remaining battery strength. I think it will start without a jump later today.

My own energies are depleted after the long run on the Eel River from the Center Point bridge to the Old Hill bridge and it is not just the equipment that was rode hard and put away wet. The recent lack of rain has put all of nearby creeks too low and even the Eel River, was barely high enough to float us. I scraped bottom several places and walked twice that I remember.

It is not the most picturesque stream below the Center Point bridge, there are several places where the corn fields come right to the bank and since we started at about noon, much of the day was spent paddling in the sun. We paddled slowly through the many curves before we passed under IN 59 and negotiated many fallen trees. I felt good to be able to judge the currents and to read the river and avoid all the hazards but I don't kid myself that I could have done so easily in faster current.

Below IN 59, the river is a lot straighter and there are few log jams to worry us. Sometimes we paddle three abreast and chat. Dean started a conversation about the blues, naming some of his favorites to get Kendall's opinion. He struggled with a few of the artists names and I was amused that he called Muddy Waters by Muddy Rivers but that is the effect of floating downstream in the summer sun. It puts your mind to rest. I thought of a road off the CA 78 that I used to pass on my commute many years ago when I worked for a living. The road was called Smilax and seeing the sign usually reminded me to SMIle and reLAX.

Dean continued to look for accordance in musical taste with Kendall and it drew me into the conversation and made me recall some of the blues players I had seen in person. I realized that most of that was when I lived in New Jersey and that was long ago when Judy and I were practically newlyweds.

I liked Kendall. He was new at kayaking on a stream but kept his balance when he got hung up on a submerged log and accepted my encouragement and advice. He back paddled and freed himself and was soon on his way.

Time wore on and, wordlessly, we all realized that we all would need to paddle faster than the 1 or 2 mph current in order to get home before dark. We picked up the speed and it became a workout. There were few sandbars where we might take a break or stretch our legs and we paddled hard and steady the last five miles. My kayak tracks better than the one Kendall was using and my paddles are more efficient but we were paced side by side for a long while. I asked when he graduated from high school. 94.

94!? It's hard for me to believe anyone graduated as late as 94. This young fellow was a Social Studies major in college and decided to go to law school and now works in the legal department as City Attorney. I figured and then told him that when I was his age it was 1968.

His turn to be incredulous. Really?

More blues talk and then we sighted the Old Hill bridge where we would take the kayaks out of the water and truck them to where Dean had parked when we put in. The take out was steep and muddy and laced with poison ivy and oak. It was 8pm before we started for home on IN 46 from not too far from Dietz Lake. I went north on 59 to 42 where I knew I would have a good cell phone signal and told Judy I could be home in a half-hour if I didn't stop to eat. Supper was waiting so I cruised on home not knowing I was so tired that I would leave the car door open when I got there.  

Lower Big Walnut Creek and Eel River July 2, 2005

I went with Dean on a kayaking trip Saturday. We put in on Big Walnut at the Dick Huffman Bridge (Dean likes to call it the Pinkney Street Bridge because, I think, of old disputes with a Huffman descendant over recreational access to the river). We took out at the bridge where IN 42 crosses the Eel River.

It's a trip I've made before but nothing changes more, trip to trip, than a moving stream. It's not just that I see it differently; it has changed. Dead trees have been moved by big water, live trees have been blown in during storms or pushed in as the ground they sit on washes down stream, silt varies and sometimes there are large grain pebbles covering the bottom but sometimes the pebbles are covered with silt, the amount of water released from the dam increases or not. The color, level, speed and temperature of the streams is different each time. The man made objects, bridges and the occasional boat ramp are the constants year to year.

The nature of the watershed into Cagles Mill Lake, Mill Creek, Big Walnut Creek and Eel River is largely agricultural. The resulting streams are not clear. Agricultural runoff overloads streams with nutrients and the recent warm weather and the water exhibits a green turbidity indicating algae bloom. I would like to test the oxygen level of these waters.

It is, nonetheless, a thrill to balance on 31 inches of plastic and float for a few hours down shaded streams with a friend. There is plenty of water and few hazards. It was so easy that it lulled me to sleep. I was up late the night before and was not mentally sharp. Sometimes my mind would tell me to back paddle left when a clear thinker would back paddle right and I would put myself into current which took me on an unintended line. Luckily, the current was not very strong and I was usually able to correct myself or the water level was high and even a bad line through a run still got me through.
In mid-afternoon, we rounded a bend to see a row of partially submerged stumps bank to bank with spaces between and downed trees hiding low behind them. All this wood was without bark or leaf and shined white where it projected above the green water resembling a graveyard. The ugliest wooden thing I encounter on a creek is a giant uprooted tree with exposed roots pointed upstream. I avoid that grotesque form of nature and even look away from it. This current hazard, instead, drew my eyes to it and I tried to make sense of what I saw.

When I returned to Indiana and the streams that drain her 3 summers ago, I wondered about the floating and jammed lumber. If they grew too near the banks that they eventually fell in, how did they grow so large?

I still wonder where each downed tree grew and could make no good sense of the wood coming toward me -- actually I advanced on it at stream speed -- and needed to find a way through it.

I saw that Dean picked the gap between the 1st and 2nd stump from the right bank. Off tackle, if you will, and when he had cleared the upright stump and was halfway past the horizontal defender "straight-armed" it with a quick push with his left paddle head. A sandy beach downstream looked like a curved end zone where I hoped I would soon rest and look back and see only trees and water and not all the crazy images my mind was made of it.

Back paddle for alignment and go with the flow between end and tackle. The current was tricky and began to take me into the tree that stretched not quite horizontal and more into the gap than I estimated. No wonder Dean straight armed it but when I jabbed it with my paddle, it slipped my jab and pulled the left side of my kayak up onto its side (seemed to anyway) and my balance was lost and I was upside down in cool pea soup. My Chevy truck hat seemed to dissolve in the concoction and no one has seen it since. No touch down, no end zone dance, no favorite hat. But nothing else was lost. It was, in fact, refreshing and I was more alert as a result. I stayed awake for the rest of the trip. 

Upper Big Walnut May 21

I was the last one on the water when I waded in at the end of the sandbar and let the strong Big Walnut Creek current push the kayak between my legs until the seatback bumped me and I lifted my feet and began to paddle along with Nancy, Dean and Bryce. The upper Big Walnut Creek in Hendricks County must be run before the end of June because the water is too low most of the summer. It had been draining a foot and a half of rain for about 36 hours and the projected temperature was 77 (air), the creek was muddy and cold. High sandstone walls remind me that some Indiana creeks were cut as the glaciers receded and I want to see the Eastern Hemlock trees that still grow on the banks since those days. History buffs, here are your tales of days of yore on these banks. I want to find one just for that... they live a thousand years but I was not to see one this trip.

The creek demands my full attention. There are standing waves indicating rocks beneath the surface (and some above). After avoiding the rocks successfully there is a brief respite as the creek pools and gathers strength for the next downward plunge. These are the most difficult conditions I have tried in my two years of kayaking and I am not one who normally seeks out challenge. Years ago I sailed the Pacific out of San Diego Bay and as I learned to crew on a 26' Erickson my favorite days were those when you could stand on the bow and light a cigarette. Basking in the sunlight and the slight salt spray were the payoff for me and I wondered at the nature of men who felt compelled to race each other on boats. Back to my roots at advanced age (and weight), I wonder anew why not "Up a Lazy River"? The nature of Big Walnut Creek between McCloud's Nature Preserve and Big Pine Bluff is to pool up and then drop to the next lower level then pool again. It does this for the eight miles or so we paddle today. 


The current moves through the pools but not as strongly and there is a chance to look at the banks. Giant Sycamores and Maples form cathedrals that demand reverence. Conversation stops and a column of kayaks become a row or two rubber-necking at the way the sun filters through dense forest or glistens on the banks. Then, too soon, the sound of water rushing over rocks ahead makes me strain to see what hazards might lay ahead and prepare to navigate it.

We disturb a Great Blue Heron and watch the flight and we watch hawks circling at great height and I wonder how they can see detail from such great distance yet still see their prey at close range. My hardening presbyopic view makes me forget sometime that there are animals and even birds of prey whose eyes adapt to changing conditions better than human beings past middle age. A wild turkey hen struggles with 10 or so chicks and some of them tumble down the bank. 

Following another paddler through a run shows me that it can be done if I can position my kayak so that the current will take me where I want to go and I observe that even the roar of water over shallows has a different sound after you pass it and wonder if that is an objective observation. Now and then a run is too shallow or the line I picked through it is and I have to wade. Ankle high river boots insulate my feet but I am in swim trunks and bare legged like Bryce. Nancy and Dean wear matching Farmer John wet suits. The sun warms me and the life vest traps body heat and makes me sweat slightly in the first half of the trip.

My skills at reading the water ahead and paddling have returned after the long winter but they are not enough for the worst this creek has to offer. Nancy got too close to a tree and was brushed into the water but recovered. The cold water shocks for a minute or two but it is trapped between her wet suit and her body and warms quickly. She is ready to go.

When we passed under the steel trestles of the Putnam County Line Road bridge in the first half hour my camera was not set to record it. Then the county road 800 crosses on a modern concrete bridge. Cold sandwiches later when we cross under the arched bridge of county road 650 it becomes an overcast day. The air temperature begins to drop. I didn't notice it after clearing a run of bubbling water over rocks and between downed trees, I went to a sandy bank to reflect upon those thrills when I noticed Nancy's kayak was upside down. Bryce retrieved her paddle and Dean helped her to the bank just upstream from me and had left his kayak to wade chest deep to retrieve her kayak. Nancy didn't take this shock so well, her face lost color and she yelled to Dean to bring her inhaler. She says she hasn't had choking asthma for a long time but needs it now and it is in a bag strapped to her capsized kayak. Once Dean realizes what she needs, he finds a back-up inhaler he carries for her in his kayak. We all breath easier.

The current has become even stronger in this section and there are many downed trees. We walk through the worst of it and look for a place to remount. Dean takes on the responsibility of Nancy's kayak and tries to control everyone's for an ugly moment. I start on the last mile in the lead paddling hard and putting distance between me and my friends. Out of their sight around a bend, I ran the right side of my kayak up onto a submerged log and knowing it would flip, slid off to the left into waste deep water. I remounted thankful that I found a shallow place to do so and continued downstream toward a roar of water. A tree had fallen and blocked Big Walnut bank to bank. At its lowest point there might have been 4 inches of water passing over the trunk... I might have tried to jump the tree on a warmer day but I wasn't going under this water if I could help it. I stepped into the water and pushed my kayak over and waited to warn the others. It seemed a long time and I was beginning to worry when I saw Nancy in the lead and warned her. My thought was that maybe Bryce could jump this tree and help the others from the other side and then I noticed Bryce was not wearing his Cincinnati Reds cap. Nancy was leading him as he had lost his glasses too. I later found out that he had been dumped on the same log that got me but went in head-first. He wore a glasses rope loosely and the strong current took that too.

Dean found a foot path that had looked impassible through the roots of the fallen tree and pulled two kayaks through it and got them launched and then his own. Not wanting to risk dumping in this cold water by trying to climb on from the tree, I went face down crosswise on my kayak to shallow water where I could put my feet down, get control and get started again. Bryce was shaken and chilled and we all stopped at the first sandbar and dug around for towels to dry him and he tried my insulated kayaking jacket.

It had become a chilly day and Bryce shivered until he finally took his wet T-shirt off. Dean led Nancy and I followed close behind Bryce warning him of hazards I could see. This worked for the short remaining distance. The Pine Bluff Bridge came into sight, our take out point.

We all dried off, shook hands and started home 

Outfitting

I want to use my 85 El Camino to haul my kayak this summer and leave the Pontiac at home for Judy. The bed is 4 feet 6 inches shorter than my cobra Explorer so I looked around on the internet and found a company with a product that could help.

All should be delivered in time for me to check stuff out this weekend. We should be paddling soon.

Testimonial for Cobra Kayaks customer service

Read this string of messages from the bottom up to see an example of the kind of service you might expect from the Cobra Kayak company.

It's too cold in Indiana for kayaking now so I have time to express my thanks.

My first message to Wes at customer service at Cobra was dated 9/19/2004. After a few e-mails, and at no cost to me... well just read the exchange. (I've removed the exact addresses)

Date: Tue, 5 Oct 2004 12:26:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: "me "
Subject: RE: tear near seat of white Cobra Navigator
To: "Wes Ogle"

Wes,

The replacement arrived yesterday and I've prepared the damaged kayak for return shipment using the return address label you provided. It is at
Shipping Location Address
Terre Haute, IN 4780x
and ready to be shipped.

I could be on the water again this weekend thanks to your excellent service.

Thanks,

--- Wes Ogle wrote:

> Hi ,
>
> Your replacement kayak shipped today. You can probably expect it in 5-7 days. Included inside are a couple of plastic bags and an address label. If you would please tape the return address label to the top of the damaged kayak and place it into the plastic bags and tape up the ends. When ready please email or call me toll free at the number below and I'll have a freight company pick it up and return it to us.
> 888/412-6272
>
> Thanks,
> Wes
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: [mailto:me @yahoo.com]
>
> Sent: Wednesday, September 22, 2004 11:14 AM
> To: Wes Ogle
> Subject: RE: tear near seat of white Cobra Navigator
>
> Wes,
>
> I can take delivery of the replacement kayak at:
>
>
> Shipping Location Address
> Terre Haute, IN 4780x
>
>
>
>
>
> Wes Ogle wrote:
> Hi ,
>
> We will be shipping your replacement kayak out via truck freight. Is there an address we can ship to where someone will be available to receive this during the day M-F ?
>
> Thanks,
> Wes
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: [mailto:me @yahoo.com]
>
> Sent: Tuesday, September 21, 2004 6:32 AM
> To: Wes Ogle
> Subject: RE: tear near seat of white Cobra Navigator
>
> Wes,
>
> Thanks for your prompt respons I read the serial number of my Navigator as GWA00151 H303.
>
>
>
>
> HouseNumber My Av
> Terre Haute, IN 4780x
>
> Wes Ogle wrote:
> Hi ,
>
> Sorry to hear about the damage to your kayak.
> It is unusual for the kayak to fail in this location since it is not in an area which would be exposed to stress or impact.
> We could send out repair material but I feel that it may just fail again. I suspect that for some reason the plastic was thinner than normal in that location and has fatigued over time and we should probably replace the kayak.
> Please get back to me with the 12 digit serial # which is located on the right side of the kayak, about a foot or so from the tail and just above what appears to be a seam where the side and bottom meet.
> We will begin working on a replacement kayak for you. If you need to contact me, you can call toll free 888/412-6272
>
> -Wes
>
>
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: [mailto:me @yahoo.com]
>
> Sent: Sunday, September 19, 2004 6:36 AM
> To: wogle@cobrakayaks.com
> Subject: tear near seat of white Cobra Navigator
>
> I bought my Cobra at Action Marine in Marina Del Ray, CA last Christmas.
>
>
> After several months of use, I find a jagged 3.5 inch tear near the seat of my white Cobra Navigator.
>
> I read the suggestion in your FAQ -
>
> Q- I have a small cut in the hull of my kayak. Is it possible to repair this damage?
> A- Yes, it's easy to fix. Even though it is very hard to cut or damage our kayaks, if it does happen, then please contact us directly, let us know the color of your kayak and we will send you material to repair it.
> You will then need a soldering iron to "weld" the repair material into the damaged area.
>
> The tear begins about 6 inches forward of the seat platform and about 4 inches to the right. There are no hatches in this kayak and no way to strengthen the seat platform which seems a little "squishy" when I put the kayak on my head as for loading onto the car roof rack. Can I expect a proper patch to restore the original stiffness of the Navigator?
>
> me
> HouseNumber My Avenue
> Terre Haute, IN 4780x

It will be warm enough to use it in a few months.