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May 15, 2022 - 2 comments

Redhorsing around

I can’t remember when I learned that people snare river redhorse, but I am sure the desire to do it followed quickly. The fish were known to me because of many sightings while canoeing on different sections of the Cahaba. Others had told me that they were sucker fish you couldn’t easily catch with a hook. They are bottom-feeders, eating clams, mussels, snails and insect larvae.

Unlike Cahaba Lilies, river redhorse are not limited to a small area that includes the Cahaba Watershed. The National Park Service reports they live in clear streams and rivers with sandy, rocky bottoms throughout the eastern United States and into Canada. It also states they do not live in waters with significant sediment or pollution. (In my discussions about redhorsing with Charles Griffen, he told me that in the 1950’s they came up Buck Creek as far as the mineral railroad trestle until development upstream decreased the water quality.) River redhorse aren’t even the only type redhorse in Alabama. Other varieties include the black, blacktail, grayfin, silver, shorthead, golden and “greater jumprock”.

After learning of snaring, I read articles and watched videos about the its history and practice. My first attempt to connect with someone who could take me was through a patient who has lived in Bibb County for many years. That area has some families for whom this is a tradition passed down for generations. I asked clumsily if he knew anyone who lassoed redhorse. He corrected my terminology and said that he did. I made contact and over the next two years tried to get down near Montevallo with him in the spring to learn. It never happened because of unfavorable weather and high water levels.

Then another patient told me that Ken Penhale had a redhorse mount at the Helena Museum. Ken also had a pole and wire snare, as well as a copy of an old newspaper article about Charles Griffen and his redhorse snaring. Ken volunteered to introduce me to Charles. We had several discussions about his fishing, as well as his extensive collection of Native American artifacts. We also made plans for me to join him sometime in April to attempt snaring my first redhorse.

In April when Charles called to tell me he had continued his consecutive streak of snaring redhorse every year since he learned as a child, I was on a trip with my wife and wouldn’t get back until the spawning was completed.

So, I decided to do all I could to be available and ready for this year. I asked Charles if it was possible to predict by date when the spawning would occur. When he responded that it was April 18-20th, I took the step of scheduling time off from my practice on those days. With my guide being over 80 years old, I wanted to do my best to experience this while he was able. I justified it as a bucket list item- honestly, I have referred to it as my “redneck bucket list”. Charles added that the spawning was sometimes delayed by a cold weather front coming through, because water temperature had to be warm enough. (The Alabama Department of Conservation Website says water temps between 71 and 76 degrees is needed; https://www.outdooralabama.com/redhorse/river-redhorse.). Rain early in the week caused the water to be to muddy and high during the target dates. This worked fine for my schedule because my mom was hospitalized and I needed to spend time there. On Thursday night I got a call from Charles. He had snared a redhorse that afternoon, continuing his streak of 72 consecutive years. He also felt the water level should work for Saturday morning. My schedule was clear and the weather looked good. I was encouraged everything was finally going to come together.

Charles has an old orange telescoping pole that he has used for many years. The traditional way is to cut long sections of river cane, lay 3 pieces side to side, tie them together, and hang them vertically for several weeks from a high limb with a weight on the bottom to straighten them. He had been unsuccessfully looking for a newer telescoping crappie pole, but had been told they may no longer be available. In 2021, Helena’s True Value hardware store ordered several for him. They finally arrived early in 2022. Charles bought all six, giving most away to friends and family- including me. He was proud to get them because they are hollow except for the end section. This reduces the weight, which is helpful when you are trying to hold and control a 16-17 foot pole over the water for several hours.

Our group met at Charles’ house early on Saturday. In addition to myself, and Charlie, Jr., a friend who had not fished with them for twenty years also joined us. We headed to an area on the Little Cahaba River in Bibb County. The redhorse come back to the same area to spawn. Their presence was confirmed by Charles and Charlie during their successful Thursday visit. At the river’s edge we slid down the sandy bank into a side channel of the river and then waded through it to an island. On its other side, the male redhorse had made a bed in the sand 15-20 feet into the river. Its depth was less that two feet, and it was three to four feet wide and a bit longer.

I was the only first-timer in our group, and struggled with the task. Seeing the fish was difficult because the sun in a cloudless sky produced a blinding reflection off the river, but also because the water was just stained enough to prevent me seeing the fish in the bottom of the bed. Keeping the snare vertical in the water with the weight grazing the bottom, trying to correctly judge if it was in line with the fish or on this side or the far side, and adjusting as the fish moved back and forth in the current were the other contributors to my challenge.

The others were quick to snare their first fish, and did it with a practiced smoothness. After many empty passes, and a few initial successes from which the fish escaped quickly, I was able to land my first redhorse. I eventually landed three (and almost brought in several more). Charlie, Jr. assured me I did well for my first trip. In the past they had someone who failed completely the first two years he joined them.

Interestingly, Charles remarked that they had not seen that many redhorse, or as many large ones, in many years. It was a great day for an old friend and a new one to share with him the river and a passionate hobby.

May 12, 2022 - 2 comments

The Penultimate Float

One night as scouts and men from Boy Scout Troop 96 of Vestavia were sitting around a campfire after rafting the Ocoee River, a father talked about a backpacking trip he and his son made in Philmont, New Mexico. He described the great experience they had and said that it was his penultimate scouting experience. As we drove home the next day, I brought up the possibility that the word penultimate was incorrect. The father was relating what he considered to be the best trip he had made while involved with scouts. Someone quickly confirmed via the internet that his vocabulary choice was wrong. He had mistakenly described that trip as his “next to last” scouting experience.

Penultimate accurately depicts the float we made from Trussville’s Civitan Park in March, 2020. I had wanted to float Section 1 of the Cahaba River for several years. As I paddled “new” sections of the river and could begin considering completing every mile of the river, I decided that the stretch from Booth’s Ford to Living River would be a great “last run” because it had few shoals, was not too long, or too far from home and would therefor allow my family the opportunity to finish the Cahaba with me. After the canoeing season of 2019 the only other part I had not done was near its origin.

Like most trips on the Cahaba River above the fall line, being able to canoe from Trussville depends on the water level, which is primarily is determined by rainfall. Inadequate water means a long, physically difficult day of dragging canoes across scores of shoals. Too much creates a dangerous situation that should only be attempted by experienced white water paddlers. The sweet spot for this run was reportedly a narrow flow rate between 60 and 100 cfs on the USGS gage at Trussville. This often meant a trip was only possible during or right after rain. That restriction and the limited number of Saturdays on which other activities (like family birthdays in the spring) did not take precedence, caused this trip to remain out of grasp.

My goal to paddle every mile of the Cahaba and the above difficulties almost caused me to get into trouble. I read an article recently that points out that we think we make choices based on logic, but they are often more emotional than logical.

One weekend looked promising due to clear skies and flow rates dropping through the target range following rain on Friday. Unfortunately, my usual canoeing partners were not available. Another friend, who had no experience on moving water, said he was interested in making the trip with me after church on Sunday afternoon. There were several potential problems with this plan:

although I had done some arm-chair research on this part of the Cahaba (Foshee’s Alabama Float Trips and Canoe Rides and cahabariversociety.org) I had never seen it, much less scouted it (this ignorance factors in later);
I knew nothing about the abilities (and possible liabilities) of my inexperienced partner;
We were starting this trip in the afternoon, which meant we had the unforgiving deadline of darkness.

We were saved from potential danger by another bit of poor preparation on my part. I hurriedly loaded my canoe on the truck, attaching it with a transverse ratchet-strap mid-body, two ropes up front and a single in the back (which was just long enough to tie with a trucker’s hitch). On I-459 near Derby Parkway, the knot loosened and the rope flew free from the tie-down in the back of the truck. Suddenly, the bow of my canoe bounced repeatedly on my hood. Fortunately, the other attachments held until I could pull to the side of the road. I found an additional ratchet-strap and retied the stern with it. This delay allowed me to realize that we would have been stuck on the river after dark if we continued with this attempt. It was only after I finally made canoed this section that I learned I was significantly underestimating the length.

In the spring of 2020 the variables seemed to align. My younger son, Ben, and a friend, Scott Watson, were both available on a Saturday. The weather was sunny and wind not significant. The only concern was that the amount of water flowing was below the ideal threshold. It was gradually decreasing after an inch of rain a few days prior. When we put in it would likely be around 45 cubic feet per second. As long as the river was not running above the recommended range I felt we would be okay- I have pulled canoes over shoals many times.

Ben and I would be in my 16 foot Old Town canoe. Scott would be in his trusty mini-kayak he bought when the Academy Sports on 280 went out of business. At 8 feet long it is the perfect size for him to be able to single-handedly haul in the back of his truck, and tote in and out of the water. He has used it to fish in several streams since our first float together, a September, 2019 trip down the Tallapoosa River- an experience he credits with opening a new passion to him. He has solo paddled and fished many streams since then, but his favorite is likely Blackwater Creek near Jasper. In addition to hooking him on this form of outdoor adventure, I believe my other contribution which has helped him enjoy this more fully was the loan of a kayak paddle. Previously he was using a short canoe paddle for propulsion and steering.

Scott frequently asks me to let him know when I am planning a trip. So when I told him Ben and I were going to paddle for a few hours, he eagerly signed on. Unfortunately, even I didn’t know what we were getting into. It was going to be a longer, tougher day than expected.

We began at a leisurely pace, frequently stopping along the way to fish at spots that looked promising. As the morning passed, and we enjoyed the water, scenery and camaraderie, I kept my eyes out for a landmark that would let us know we were about halfway through- a walking bridge across the river at Camp Coleman. After we passed this, we would come to the one rapid which required careful attention. The main landmark was a large flat rock on the left with the river running through a slot on the right. When we came to that formation without seeing the walking bridge, I decided that it must have been removed. We cautiously proceeded and both vessels made it through without a problem. I felt good about how things were going until another hour or so downstream, we came to Camp Coleman and the walking bridge. This meant several things. The main one being that we were not as far along as I had thought. So, we had several more hours on the river. Our fishing now had to take a back seat to paddling down the river at a good pace. The other thing was that the “rapid” we went through wasn’t the big one. (A minor disappointment was that my GoPro 3 battery ran out and I did not get to film going through the most exciting part of the trip.)

The rapid was awaiting us downstream. It did require some consideration, and as we stood on the rock we were able to enjoy seeing the waterfall which came into the river below. Scott decided that his boat and skills were not ready for this challenge today. After we “portaged” the kayak across the rock, Ben and I prepared for our attempt. We paddled upstream, then turned and stayed to river right. We maintained steady strokes and went smoothly through the standing wave at the bottom of the rapid. We did end up in the water later, though. We were approaching the tall pilings of an old railroad bridge. As we came through a shoal we somehow lurched to the side and capsized.

Now that I have marked this section off of my to-do list, I already want to do it again. I think from start to finish it is one of the more scenic sections. With its 20+ shoals it is fun to navigate. I also had to skip many “can’t miss” fishing spots in the lower portion due to my poor planning and the time pressure that resulted.

I was concerned that the low river flow was going to create problems. However, there was only once or twice where we had to pull the canoe across a shoal.

May 10, 2022 - 1 comment.

The Ultimate

After more than 26 years, 30 trips, and paddle strokes beyond my calculations, we were preparing to finish the only section of the Cahaba River I had not done. Closing in on this goal, I purposely left this section for the end because I thought it would be easy for the Blackburn ladies to join. It fit this criteria because it was a shorter section than many, was within a couple hours driving from our homes, and would have bathroom access immediately before and after the float.

I have mentioned elsewhere that spring has been a difficult time to get all of our family together for canoe trips. We have anniversaries and several birthdays to celebrate which when combined with seeking appropriate weather and river flow, limit the possibilities. This is especially true of the section of the Cahaba that begins in the park at Trussville. It is there that the river becomes large enough to float. But it requires the right timing because of a small window of ideal flow. If it is lower than 60 cubic feet per second, the multiple shoals threaten to stop your boat many times. When it is above 90 cfs, you will encounter whitewater that most don’t have the skills to handle. In the spring of 2020 my patience wore thin and my son, Ben, and friend, Scott Watson, attempted it-successfully- despite a flow rate of 45 cfs (see the Penultimate Float). With that completed, I was ready to do the trip that would tie it all together.

We were aided greatly by the hospitality of the Living River Retreat on the Cahaba. This was our take-out at the end of the float, so when we dropped off two vehicles we were able to make the last pre-trip toilet stop.

We put in at Booth’s Ford, on the “wild west” side across from Shelby County’s Cahaba River Park. I have heard stories of this area that led me to consider putting in on the north side of the river, but that would require an extra hour of driving. One such story was of a friend who’s group launched from here to do an overnight trip. Upon returning the next day to get their vehicle, someone had punctured and drained their gas tank. Since ours was just a day trip, and was during a time of year when many people would be at the river, I decided the risk of vandalism was low.

Our group was comprised of my wife, my daughter and her husband, and a son and his wife. Part of being in our family is that you will be invited (strongly encouraged) to canoe on the Cahaba River. A rite of passage into the family is a spring float trip to Hargrove Shoals to enjoy the lilies. So, this was not the first time in a canoe on moving water for anyone in our group. In fact all of the men on the trip had each canoed over 50 miles.

Like many paddlers, I have acquired several canoes over the years. I have an old Grumman aluminum camouflage-painted canoe passed down from my father. The “top of the line” river vessel in my fleet is a red Old Town St. George River model I bought through craigslist from a lady who brought it from Wisconsin when she moved to Birmingham. My other, which my wife and I were using for the first time, was a 14 foot Northeast Outfitters. It was acquired in an unusual way. It had been abandoned by some trespassers on a private lake at which I have a fishing membership. When no one returned to claim it after several months, I suggested to the ruling authorities that it would be a shame for the canoe to sit and rot. I offered to give it a good home, and assured that if the owners were brave enough to request it, I would give it back. It is still in my possession two years later. With these three canoes, we had adequate boats for our crew. We would not need to go through the hassle or cost of borrowing or renting. That was a decision I regretted within a short time of being on the water. I quickly realized that this canoe would be best used for some relaxing paddling on a lake, not for covering 6-7 miles on a river without much current. So, the oldest couple on the river was also having to work harder than the others to maintain the pace. My wife didn’t say it this time, but the words she has said in many other situations definitely applied, “You get what you pay for!”

A Boy Scout troop had the same float plan as our group. One of the adult leaders was able to take our group picture just prior to them launching. (My favorite Boy Scout interaction on the Cahaba River is detailed in “River hitchhiking.”)

I think that most enjoyable activities have a part that is not fun and must be tolerated to get to “the good stuff.” One of those for paddling rivers is the effort (sometimes struggle) of getting into and out of the river. You know in advance that the interior of your vehicle will collect some sand/dirt and perhaps even mud. The take-out at the end of our trip began with paddling into the mouth of a small creek. Then we had to climb out onto the slippery bank. Rains over the previous week created a 15 yard mud flat to slog through with gear and boats. It is amazing how a vessel which moves smoothly and effortlessly on water, becomes heavy and bulky whenever it leaves its environment. Fortunately, I was able to get my son and son-in-law to do the hard work.

This accomplishment has great value for me. Yes, it is something few people have done. But its meaning is much deeper because it is something that allowed hours with friends and family (starting with the only Cahaba River trip my Dad and I shared), and created great memories along the way.

(See my Complete Trip Log.)

May 10, 2022 - 3 comments

Complete Trip Log

Cahaba River

Trip Log

1995-2021

Vance Blackburn

Trussville to White’s Chapel (US 10- County 11) 7 miles
March 2020 Ben, Scott Watson

White’s Chapel to US 78 8.4m
July 2013 Ben

US 78 to Grant’s Mill Rd. 5.9m
March 2014 solo

Grant’s Mill Rd to 280 13.2m INITIAL SECTION
1995 or 96 (to Old Overton) Dad
Apr 2015 Jim

280 upstream and back
Apr 03 Will, Ben
Mar 04 Will, Ben
Apr 04 Will
May 13 moonlight/CRS
Aug 14 moonlight/CRS Karen, Sean and Susan Doyle

280 dam to Caldwell Mill Rd 3.1m
Apr 15 Jim

Caldwell Mill Rd to Lorna Rd 8.2m
Apr 2013 Will and Ben

Lorna Rd to Helena (County 52) 9.8m
Apr 13 Jim

Buck Creek (Highway 261)
May 18; to the Cahaba and back, solo.

Helena to Shelby County CR Park 16.4m
March 2019 Overnight
Jim, Greg Graves, Stan Huff, Ted Ferrell, Drew Warren, Andy Harrison

S.C. CR Park to Living River (Tate’s Landing) 6m FINAL SECTION
May 2021 Karen, Caroline, Jim, Will, Sarah

Living River to CR National Wildlife Refuge 16.7m
Apr 2014 Art and Arthur Smith, Zoe

CR National Wildlife Refuge to Pratt’s Ferry 6.6m
May 2013 Will, (Huntsville Boy Scouts)

Lily trips CRNWR to Hargrove Shoals and back
May 04 CRS Will, Ben
May 10 CRS Caroline
May 16 Karen, Caroline, Jim
May 16 Karen, Will, Sarah
May 17 Ben
May 19 Karen, Ben, Eden

Pratt’s Ferry to US 82 8.8 m
May 14 Ben, Jim, Brock Armstrong

US 82 to Harrisburg Bridge 11.7m
Oct 13 Jim, Zoe, Ryan Graul, Paul (the VC intern), Alan Raudenbush

Harrisburg Bridge to Jericho Bridge 11.3m Oct 06 Karen, Caroline, Ben, Winston Crowder

Jericho to Sprott 11.5m
Oct 04 Overnight w CRS Will, Ben March 07 Overnight w Troop 96. Ben
Oct 07 Overnight w CRS Will
Oct 08 Overnight w Valleydale Church middle schoolers, Ben
Oct 11 to Barton’s Beach Will, Hoang and Caleb Huynh
Oct 12 Matt Howard, Drew Warren, Mark Kelinski

Oxbow Lakes, Perry County CR Park
2017 CRS, Karen

Sprott to Radford 7.3m
Oct 10 Will, Ben, Jonathan Mooney

Radford to Suttle 9.1m May 10 overnight Will, Ben, Zoe

Suttle to US80 9.7m
May 12 Will

US 80 to Old Cahawba/Alabama River 25m May 16 Overnight. Ben, Jim, Mike and David Blackburn, Caleb Huynh, Andrew Smith, Art and Arthur Smith

Total 195.7m

April 11, 2020 - 3 comments

Helena’s redhorsing expert

Early in 2020 I had the pleasure- through the kindness of Ken Penhale (curator of the Helena Museum)- to sit down and talk with his friend Charles Griffin. Charles is an expert on the history of Native Americans and a collector of artifacts. He is also an expert on redhorse snaring in the Cahaba River watershed. That was the topic of our conversation below. (Except where noted the words are Charles’ based on my notes.)

My great-great grandfather moved to the Helena area in 1816. He may have learned to snare redhorse from the Indians.

I learned from my older brother- who wasn’t good at it. I don't remember him ever catching anything. I had to carry the pole and hold the light for him.
I caught my first redhorse at age thirteen. I remember walking down from the train depot to the upper point on the Cahaba River, above the train bridge. I caught a little bed horse. I walked back to the Nash brothers store to weigh him (one and three quarters of a pound). I went back that night by myself and caught my second one, which weighed 5 pounds.

We used old miners’ carbide lights. I would go to the mining camp store to buy parts and replacement kits to rebuild old lights. They produced a soft light that penetrated the water, but didn’t scare the fish or reflect so that we couldn’t see. My big brother didn’t know how to use the light well. I could hear him struggling with it. He would have it set too high, shooting out a six-inch flame, and then it would sputter out. I would have to go help him with it.

In the past Buck Creek had some good fishing. In the shoal below the lilies we caught 2-3 pound white suckers. In the 1950s redhorse came up as far as the mineral railroad trestle. Bottom feeders like these are affected by water quality before other fish. When pollution increased (with more development upstream) they either died off or moved further down the Cahaba River.

I trained my boys to be good at redhorse snaring. Charlie, Jr. is the best. He has the patience, know how, and good eye sight.

I would take the boys out of school for 3-4 days when the red horse were spawning. We would go to the river and camp out. We fished day and night. I remember fishing until midnight and then would nap on a gravel bar for several hours. When I woke up in the “gray morning” I would go back to fishing. This was a great time because the fish couldn’t see you, but there was still enough light to barely see the fish.
At other times, when the moon was almost full and overhead, we could fish at night without lights. After fishing a spot during daylight, we would mark a spot on the pole that indicated how far the bed was from the area in which we were standing. Though they were 10-14 inches deep, if the water was clear you could still see the outline of the fish.

Sometimes when the boys were young, we brought a step ladder for them to set on the edge of the bank so they would be able to look down into the water more easily. When one of them was about twelve-years old he was fishing from the top of the ladder and we were catching a lot of redhorse, including several six-pounders. I didn’t want to stop, and kept saying, “Let me catch one more…” Well the one on the ladder snared a big fish and it pulled him into the water. I can still see the water dripping from the sleeves of his cover-alls when we pulled him out. “Well, I guess you will have to leave now” was the response of someone who was fishing with us.

There was a dentist in Helena who liked to go red horsing with us. He would keep saying, “I’m going to catch one more. It’s okay if I get to the office an hour late. I can catch up.”

I can remember Clyde D. fishing from the highway 52 bridge with a rod and reel and a snare on the end. His dad was with him and told him there was no way he would be able to land anything he caught from there. So his dad climbed down the bank. He stood on the base of the bridge support and helped him pull in the fish he caught. That family ate everything they ever caught, regardless of the size. They once had a burlap tow sack so full of fish it was hard to carry. The family’s old-timers pressure-cooked the red horse they caught and canned them in fruit jars. They then ate them all year long by making them into patties, like you would with salmon. Redhorse have sweet meat, but it is very bony (I never tried filleting them). Pressure cooking them softened the bones, so they were able to eat them, bones and all.

Once we were horsin’ on the Cahaba just upstream from the highway 31 bridge. One of the utility companies was running lines across the river at the time. We heard several whistles, but ignored them and kept fishing. Suddenly there was a boom that shook the ground below us! They had exploded dynamite to put a hole through a rock wall! When that happened, all of the fish disappeared!

VB: I have read that the blooming of the tulip poplars coincides with redhorse spawning and snaring.
CG: No, its a plant we call Bush Ivy, or Wild Azalea. It grows on rocky cliffs and has a pretty pink bloom and looks like an azalea. I dug some up and planted them in my yard so I would know when it was time.
I remember my wife telling me once, “ Have you looked at that bush out there? Y’all need to go to the river!”

I enjoy just sitting and watching the fish go through the preparations and spawning. The male RH fight for supremacy, swimming into each other forcefully, making contact with their noses. The dominant male, called the bed horse, is usually not the largest. We avoided snaring the bed horse because this meant that the battles for dominance had to start over, which delayed the mating, and therefor the snaring. Males (horses) grow “warts” on their nose which they use (along with their belly fins and tails to hollow out a bed in the shoals. This may take 4-5 days, sometimes leaving the bed horses’ nose raw and bleeding. The bed is usually 2-3 feet in diameter, but could be as large as a pool table. (I once was fishing from a boat on the Cahaba River and anchored near a large bed in water about 4 feet deep. I snared a big one which dragged the boat back and forth across that bed.) A bed could also be made in as little as twelve inches of water. I remember in shallow water being able to see the backs of the redhorse above the water as they moved. The water must be warm enough for the eggs to develop. When the temperature is in the 62-65 degree range a female (mare) approaches the bed. There have been “cold easter snaps” in temperature which caused the redhorse mating to stop for a few days. If the dominant male isn’t ready, he will chase the mare away. When allowed in, the mare centers herself in the bed. The bed horse chooses a helper male and one approaches her from the left and the other from the right, bumping into her sides until the force breaks the roll which contains her eggs. The trio drifts slowly backward. As the eggs are released, they “muddy the water” with their color. Some of the eggs attach to gravel and await sperm, which must enter a tiny hole on the egg’s side.

The mares are golden-bronze, weighing less than 5-6 pounds. The males (horses) have a greenish tint to their skin and are in the 3-3.5 pound range. (Charlie, Jr. added that you can identify them by just the way they approach the bed- the horses darting in, while the mares move in slowly.) Before polarized “fishing glasses” became available in the 70s, we learned to fish by feel as much as by sight. If the reflection of the sun was bad, we could often see the ripple on the surface of the water as the mare came into the bed.

I once went snaring with some friends in Chocolocco Creek off the Coosa River, where red horse could grow to 10-14 pounds. They used me as a decoy, putting me where they had caught fish in the past, but didn’t think I would be able to catch any that time.
I caught one that weighed eight and a half pounds. I knew they wouldn’t believe me, but I didn’t want to kill it, so I kept him alive by tying the stringer he was on to a sweet gum bush.

VB: What was the hardest you worked to snare redhorse?.
CG: “It was never hard because I knew where to go and when to go”

I use a 16 foot pole (some use 18 foot, but that has more flex and weight, which decreases the control). The poles were this long to prevent the fish from being spooked. We would also wear dark-colored shirts or camo. The poles were river cane, which had to be cut and prepared early. They were tied together in groups of three, to begin to straighten them. Then the group was hung from a tree, upside-down— with a brick tied to the bottom to straighten them as they dried. The joints could be reinforced with tape. some people use a fiberglass crappie pole. Attached on the pole tip was a snare made of 22(for larger fish) or 24 gauge brass wire, with a weight attached. (This wire was once hard to find. Kathryn Tucker Windham, the story teller, used to go red horse snaring with us. Once we couldn’t find any brass wire locally. Her daughter was able to buy some in a store in Selma. Five Points Hardware is a location where the wire can be purchased in Birmingham. (It is mainly used by florists.) If the snare is too big, as it slips over the fish, it will slide to the tail and the fish will flop out. The snare needs to stop at the dorsal (top) fin. Then as the fish struggles, the snare gets caught between this fin and the gills. One of the mistakes people make is trying to catch the fish, rather than letting it hang itself. Cotton twine, 36-40 inches, is tied to the pole just below the third joint. It is then wound around the end of the pole. The length of the snare is always the same size. but the length of twine varies depending on the depth of the water.

Later the same year I got my first redhorse, I caught thirteen in one day near Helena. My best day was 158 fish (plus 35 more that night)! I have caught thousands during my life. One of the keys is to have just enough lead weight (about the size of a buckshot) on the bottom of the snare so that it stays on the river bottom, but isn’t too much to prevent controlling the pole well.
I have never seen a small redhorse. There is another fish in the same family called a red-fin sucker. People sometimes call these redhorse- that offends me!

VB: Did RH snaring ever get you into trouble?
CG: No, we would just leave. There was a cranky, old preacher who lived around Trike’s ford. We would catch hundred’s of fish there. He would say, “This is my river!”. (People buy property on the Cahaba and think they own the river.) I dropped one of the boys off in a boat so he could float downriver to some of the spawning beds. I told him not to get into a fight with anyone, just move on away from them. After the preacher saw us on the Archie Phillips TV show, he learned we released the redhorse. He didn’t mind us fishing there after that.

There were some people, though, who didn’t show respect to others when it came to redhorsin’. (VB: Mr. Griffen mentioned three families by name who fell into this category.)
Once I was standing in the edge of the water red horsing and a snare came down in front of me! Someone on the bank above had stuck their pole out over my head!

Another time we were fishing with Uncle Henry and someone walked right out in front of us to take our fishing spot. I never heard Uncle Henry say a bad word about anyone. This day he said,”Boys we need to leave before I say something I shouldn’t!”

(VB: At a couple points in our discussion, Charles mentioned fish traps. These are natural river features which allow fish in, but don’t allow an exit. The Nunnely fish trap was the best because it caught bigger fish than the Laney fish trap.)

Charles exhibited a good sense of humor in our discussion and I close with an example. I asked about his favorite recipe for cooking red horse. He responded without hesitation, “Go buy yourself a steak.”

September 25, 2019 - 4 comments

River hitchhiking

In May of 2013, my oldest son Will and I drove early one Saturday morning to the Cahaba River National Wildlife Refuge. We were joining the Cahaba River Society for one of its guided trips to Hargrove Shoals to see the world’s largest collection of Shoal (Cahaba) Lilies. Going down early allowed us to do some fishing prior to meeting the rest of the group. As we were getting on the river we met a Boy Scout troop from Huntsville who were putting in at the Refuge and canoeing down to Pratt’s Ferry (the location of the next road crossing). We talked a bit with their leaders before shoving off.

My son and I had seen the lilies before with the CRS. In fact, this trip to see the lilies has become a family tradition. On different occasions my wife and all three children have made the float. Highlights have included seeing a bald eagle fly down to catch a fish from the river and getting to sip (“suck” sounded too undignified) nectar from a lily as you might from a honeysuckle flower- thanks Dr. Haddock!. As our children married, their new spouses were figuratively baptized into the family by canoeing to Hargrove Shoals. On each of our previous trips we got out at the shoals, and after a time for eating lunch and investigating the lilies, snails and other fauna, the group canoed back upstream to our starting point. The trip back is always a challenge. In the deeper areas, paddling against the slow flow is not difficult. However, you must work to get by the rocky shoals which are shallow and the current fast. Here at least one canoer must get out, walk against the flow while pulling the canoe behind, while trying not to fall on the uneven and slippery rocks. This is a full-body challenge- testing balance, strength and stamina.
Our reason for coming this day was because the water levels were high enough to make possible a float on downstream. This was significant to me because canoeing all of the sections of the Cahaba- from Trussville to the Alabama River- is something I want to accomplish (see “My Cahaba Quest” story) and I had only done the first two miles of this six mile section.

Once on the river, I was encouraged the water level allowed us to navigate the shoals easily. During our stop for lunch I realized, however, that the group was not going to be able to go further. This is where the Boy Scouts re-enter the story. I knew their plan was what I wanted to do. As I saw their group round the bend up-river I told our trip leader what I was thinking- half asking for his okay, and half telling him what we were going to do. With his assent my son and I got into our red OldTown, St Charles River canoe and paddled to intercept the scout leader. In my thinking the main obstacle (other than the Scout leader’s potential concerns about two random guys joining the group of kids for whom he was responsible) was whether they had a spot in their vehicle to shuttle me back to my truck. After a moments hesitation and consideration, he decided to allow us in as part of his flotilla. As we prepared to navigate Hargrove Shoals, I gave an “OK, we are changing groups” wave to the CRS.
We had a great float down this picturesque part of the Cahaba. The trip included a rest stop during which we practiced fly fishing. No fish were harmed (that’s right, we caught nothing). The most memorable part of the trip occurred as we went down a section of shoals which dropped a couple feet over a few yards. In front of us was a canoe with 2 or 3 middle-school aged scouts. We watched them jostle through the run successfully and chose to follow their line. Somehow we didn’t fare as well. Things went bad quickly and we were in the water. Unfortunately, I had failed to secure my binoculars and they were tossed in when the canoe capsized. Surprisingly, I felt its strap around my leg. This allowed me to grab them before they were lost in the river. (The purchase of these binoculars was made carefully. I wanted a pair which was strong, yet not too big or heavy to prevent me from bringing it on my outdoor adventures. They also needed to be rugged and waterproof. My choice was the Nikon Action EX 8x40. They cost over one hundred dollars, but have worked well many times and this trip proved their worth. Despite going down a shoal and being three feet deep in the Cahaba, they continue to work like new.) Well, we were the only ones of this young group that fell out. Wet and bruised- mentally and physically-we regrouped and continued to the take-out without further humiliation.

Thanks to hitchhiking with the Huntsville scouts this was another adventure with great memories.

September 20, 2019 - 9 comments

My Cahaba Quest

I am not sure what causes the desire to number things and to accomplish feats. But it is apparently part of our human nature (at least for many men).

One thing I enjoy most about the Cahaba River is its complexity. For me it was first a place that connected with memories of my adolescence and that could help my children begin to enjoy the untamed parts of nature. But as I learned about the Cahaba, I saw it had many different things that I wanted to experience, and in a sense, to conquer.

So, my Cahaba Quest first consisted of just three items:

1. Snare a river redhorse,
2. find a fossilized shark tooth, and
3. canoe each section of the river (from Trussville to Old Cahawba).

It has been several years since this daunting list formulated in my mind, and I have not accomplished any of them. To be sure, these are not easy things to do- but it really wouldn’t be a quest if they were. Each presents a unique challenge.

1. Those familiar with the Cahaba know that the river redhorse is a fish. Seeing the red fins or tail of a red horse is one of the random surprises I enjoy when on the river. So why would I want to snare a fish? Mainly because it is a Cahaba River tradition. If you desire to catch a red horse, you cannot use a regular hook and line, because they are sucker fish and feed on insect larvae. So, the technique employed is to snare them with a wire loop on the end of a long pole. Timing is important. Red horse are too quick to catch at most times of the year. So spring, during spawning, is the window during which snaring is possible. It has been my intention to go the last few years, but schedules or high water levels have stopped me. I have had conversations with some experienced in this art, and have even made plans to join them on the river. But as of the writing of this piece, I haven’t yet been.

2. Fossilized shark teeth can only be found in the sections of the river which were under the ocean in prehistoric times. For the Cahaba River this is first possible in Perry County. I have canoed these areas and even spent a little time looking over sand/gravel bars for shark teeth. But I was unprepared (not really knowing their exact appearance, other than being a bigger- this was an assumption- version of a regular shark’s tooth. Although I don’t know for sure, my feeling now is that I should have been searching in the deeper water channels. This is also where the items in my quest have at times competed against each other. The drive to fulfill item 3, means my focus is on sections of the river I haven’t floated. Therefor, I haven’t been able to go back to the “prehistoric ocean” regions for some purposeful searching.

3. Canoeing the entire river was not something I even considered until a few years ago when I realized that I had completed over half of the sections. This occurred in large part through our participation in trips with the Cahaba River Society. They introduced my family to places that are unknown to most- Heiberger, Sprott, and Jericho, to name a few. These trips also helped me gain the confidence to lead my own trips with family and friends. I made another discovery about the same time I learned of the CRS. I was in the Hoover Library one day around 2003 when I came across Foshee’s Alabama Canoe Rides and Float Trips. I was intrigued, and quickly bought a copy for myself. It has provided a detailed outline of sections of the river I haven’t floated. It has also served as my trip record. I have logged the date and participants in every trip I have made on the Cahaba since that time. Also included are brief descriptions of wildlife we have seen along the way.

I have expanded my quest in recent years as I have learned new things related to the Cahaba:

4. Canoeing beside an alligator. (This is the only item on my list I have accomplished. It was an unplanned part of an overnight trip from US 80 to the Alabama River in the Spring of 2016. The description of it is in my “Alligator encounter” story.)

5. Being among the Cahaba lilies at night to smell their nectar.

So, there is much to experience on the Cahaba. If my list continues to grow, at some point my age-related limitations may make my quest impossible. For now, however, the challenges are still possibilities that inspire me.

September 15, 2019 - 4 comments

Critters

Here are a few recent wildlife observations that occurred as I was fly fishing during August and September 2019.

I was on Shades Creek in Bibb County, walking slowly upstream as I fished. Sudden movement 15 yards upstream at the water’s edge and a splash too large to be a fish caught my attention. An otter had slid out of its den. It swam away from me for several yards before getting to a deeper area and disappearing.

One afternoon I was in the Cahaba between Old Lorna Rd and Hiway 31. I was in 1-2 feet of water near a bend in the river’s course. I saw some river redhorse (sucker fish) swimming by my feet as they moved upstream. This was not an unusual experience until as I watched, the fish continued to come. There were 40-50 good-sized fish (most 1-2 feet in size) in the school. Around the river’s turn, I came to a deep trough that ran for at least 20 yards. In this area I saw redhorse, bass, bream, gar, and though not seen, there were probably catfish at its bottom. On another section of this stretch, I saw a large bird flying down river toward me. Having seen blue herons often here, I assumed that was what this was. However, as it flew directly over me, I was pleased to see it was a large osprey.

Another day a friend and I were in the Cahaba River National Wildlife Refuge. After fishing in the river, we went to check out Caffee Creek. A local “old-timer” was at the spot where the hiking trail crossed the creek. As we shared fishing stories, he said “Look at that!” I quickly scanned the bank on the other side for a deer or other animal. “I don’t see it”, I said. “Snake in the water” was the reply. I then saw the 3 to 4 foot water moccasin floating in the creek. Fortunately, it deliberately continued toward the creek’s entrance to the Cahaba. Johnny stated there was a rattlesnake further up the creek that he and his friend had been unable to find and catch. “We know it is there, you can smell it.” Not aware of this olfactory tip-off, we asked for more details. “The area where a rattlesnake is smells like a goat.” We walked upstream for a while, but did not see or smell any goats or rattlesnakes. I was surprised by the strength of a spider web I encountered there. I saw the web and its large creator in the limbs of a small tree beside a deeper spot in the creek. I cast my popper toward the water, only to see the line get caught on one of the web’s anchor lines. I paused momentarily to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. After confirming I had not gotten caught in a limb, I pulled the line back harder to break the web line. I then retried my cast. The popper defied the laws of physics by veering hard to the right- still attached to a web line from the intact anchor point. As we headed back to the the river we walked through an area in which many leaves had fallen over the trail. My vision did not let me down this time, as I saw a copperhead on the path a stride ahead of me. After watching him nosing in the leaves for a few minutes, I coaxed him to the side with the tip of my fly rod. When I walked back by on the way to retrieve my hat from the truck, it had worked back to the center of the trail. Fortunately, I had laid a thick branch across the trail to let me know when I was getting in the snake’s area.

March 18, 2019 - 82 comments

Scouting the river

“On my way” came the text at 745 am. Vance, in his trusty Honda Ridgeline truck with his canoe strapped on top, was heading toward my house for the appointed 8 am pick-up. I was ready. My new mini-kayak was in the driveway, and my small dry bag had some of the greatest Cally cookies ever and my dry clothes.

It was a brisk late March morning - a little overcast and just a little too cold for the shorts and tevas I was wearing.

Vance pulled in right at 8 am. After a quick exchange about “the game plan”, we quickly loaded up and headed SW toward Helena.

It was a sleepy Saturday morning and traffic was light. When we pulled into Helena and passed over Buck’s Creek - we could see that the water was scooting along nicely. Vance drove a little slower than normal as we were scouting a place to park vehicles for a future overnight canoe trip on his beloved Cahaba.

Vance has traversed almost the entire 190 miles of the Cahaba River, from
Trussville where it starts to Old Cahawba, where it flows into the Alabama river. But today he was scouting a part of the river he had not yet been on. I was pumped - a fun kayak trip on a part of the river Vance hadn’t even been on!

We arrived at the Shelby County's new Cahaba River Park and headed to the put-in. The banks were slick and a little steep, and the river was running fast - muddy in color.

We wrangled Vance’s canoe off the truck and loaded it up with paddles and pfds. The light kayak was as easy to take out of the truck-bed as a slightly awkward sack
of potatoes.

We decided to put Vance’s canoe in first - so he could act as a stabilizer to my much less balanced one-person kayak. The water was cold and the wind was blowing. Brrrrr.

I put the kayak in the water and now I had one main goal - get into the seat on top kayak without going into the water or sitting on a bunch of water to start the trip. It wasn’t pretty - and there was slipping and grabbing branches involved - but success! I was in and dry!

We headed up river. Have you ever been on the river and there’s no one else around? All we could hear was water rushing by and ourselves telling each other old stories we were polite enough to quietly listen to. Soon an enormous hawk flew overhead just up ahead of us.

Vance pointed out several types of trees and we heard a variety of birds. Soon the fast moving water became rippled and moved even faster. I was no longer cold - I was paddling hard to keep moving against the current.

A tree jutted out into the river and the ripples indicating shallow water and rocks intensified. Vance carefully stroked past the tree. Then it was my turn. Stroke, stroke, stroke - I was not moving forward! I edged toward the bank and then tried to sprint past the tree. As soon as the the bow of my kayak passed the tree, the force of the water spun me backward. This was going to be a challenge! Vance had pulled his canoe against the bank. “I think we should go together in the canoe.”. “I agree, but I want to get past this tree!”.

I lined up for the next sprint up the river. Angling so my bow would not be driven backward, I started driving again. Stroke, stroke, pant, stroke - I surged past the tree and turned the kayak immediately toward the bank. “Whew! You’re right Vance, me and this kayak are not going any further upriver today!”. I pulled my kayak up on the tree, secured it with a branch, and carefully joined Vance in his canoe.

We continued to paddle upriver, alternating between surging through rapid and shallow waters and slower moving deep, dark water.

“Wow, what’s that over there?, “ Vance said as he steered the canoe toward a creek entering the river. “No kidding! A beaver dam,” I said. We looked hard for the beaver family, but they were not to be found.

Vance is an avid fisherman and we alternatively paddled up the river and fished. We didn’t get any bites but we kept fishing.

Finally, we reached a stretch of fast moving shallow water which we simply could not get past. We were like the Captain of the Andrea Gale and his crew in The Perfect Storm, we just couldn’t get past that section of rapids. It wouldn’t let us out!

Fortunately, we would not end up at the bottom of the Cahaba due to a massive wave, we just turned the canoe around and started our rapid drift down river.

To slow the boat down to aid in fishing, Vance dropped his canoe anchor - a chain - and allowed it to drag on the river bottom. We slowed from maybe 5 mph flowing down river to 1-2 mph and occasionally the anchor snagged and we stopped completely. All the while, Vance continued to fish and I steered the boat away from logs and flotsam in the river.

Before long, we were already back to my kayak. Now came the tricky part of exiting the canoe and getting on the kayak in deep, cold fast moving water.

I managed to slide into the kayak but not before tipping it and allowing gallons of cold water to drench my bottom half. Now I was really cold!

It was no big problem
as our take out spot came in just a few minutes, and soon we were hauling the canoe and kayak out of the water. In a few short minutes, the hot air from the truck heater had done its job and we were toasty and heading toward lunch.

“Vance, how ‘bout we stop at Helena at the Whistle Stop and I’ll buy you a burger?”. $12 and a terrific lunch later, we were back on the road.

“Vance, if you’ll stop at the coffee shop on main, I’ll give you one of Cally’s caramel-filled gooey delights of a cookie.”. “You got it.”

We entered the store and was greeted by a friendly young man. He, with cropped short black hair and a friendly demeanor, was covered with tattoos. In addition to coffee, the store was a vape store and sold cbd. I am 57- I had never been in a vape store which sold cbd to buy a cup of coffee. But here we were.

The coffee was good, and Lance was super patient with me as I asked him dozens of questions about vaping and cbd, and advice for my daughters about tattoos and when might be an age you are old enough to get a tattoo. Lance, at his young age, had suffered through a great deal of adversity. He was so considerate and we learned that his faith had helped turn his life around. Vance invited him to visit Valleydale Church - we would be happy to welcome him. We said our goodbyes and hit the road again.

Vance had one more stop to make as he was thinking ahead to that next overnight canoeing adventure. Just down mainstreet from combo coffee/cbd/vape shop was the Helena museum. We pulled into the museum parking lot and walked into Helena history. Ken Penhale, the museum caretaker was engaging - telling us the stories behind a few of the many Helena men and women since Civil War times whose pictures are on the wall of the museum. From Guam to Normandy, Helena veterans served our country and more than a few gave the ultimate sacrifice. Our visit was short - but reminded me that the men and women who have serve our country come from every corner and small town.

Vance and I said our goodbyes and hopped into the truck and headed home.

We pulled into my driveway just 5 hours from when Vance picked me up earlier that morning. We had only traveled maybe 20 miles from home - but we experienced nature in its fullest and met several amazing people all of whom had walked different roads than Vance and me.

We reminded each other that it is truly good to get off the clock, to put the cell phone down, to enjoy the beauty God has made for us and to take the time to make new friends.

It was a good day. Thank you Vance! Where and when are we going next?

Scott Watson
March 18, 2019

January 19, 2019 - 2 comments

On the front lines

I recently talked with someone who had a lot of experience working in the Cahaba River watershed years ago. He preferred to discuss this anonymously, so we will call him Mike.

Mike remembers his father taking them camping, driving off-road in his ’48 Chevy (which is where they would also sleep). He fished often, and was bothered by the trash and pollution he saw. There were no programs to remedy this, so he decided he wanted to do something about it.
His formal secondary education was limited to classes he took at a local junior college to learn how to do upholstery (so he could replace the headliner in his truck), and welding.

The first chapter of his life working on the Cahaba was with water flow gauges. The gauge was comprised of a box several feet in length, height and depth and contained the recording instrument and a vertical pipe (with a float inside) which extended down to 6 inches off the river bottom. The box and pipe had to be welded onto the steel I-beams supporting the bridge. (This was done on the downstream side to avoid limbs and other debris the river was carrying along.)
Another important part of the gauge was a locked door to keep out animals and to deter vandalism. The main form of vandalism was people shooting at the meter box. Reinforcing the metal box was considered, but this idea was discarded because of concern about risks from ricocheting
bullets. Instead, when damaged, meters and boxes were replaced. Occasionally one had to be removed due to recurrent vandalism.
Each meter had a paper tape between two spools. The tape advanced and every 15 minutes would be struck and punctured by a spring-loaded pin, indicating the depth (and indirectly the flow rate of the river).

The team made visits monthly to each gauge. There were 8 that were serviced monthly (until the one on Black Creek had to be removed due to vandalism)- changing the 6 volt battery, removing the used spool of tape (which was taken back for evaluation) and installing a new one.
Their other task was to take manual measurements to confirm the gauges were measuring accurately. Readings were usually taken every half-foot across the width of the river. (At times, readings were taken at greater distances because of bad weather, or due to rocks which disturbed the flow near the bridge in a spot that was to be measured.) An average of the total flows was then calculated and compared to the meter’s reading. This brief explanation belies the effort required. Two people were necessary for the job. One noted the measurements and watched for snakes and logs coming down the river. The other person made the measurements. When water levels were low, this was done standing in the water holding a staff gauge (with attached meter) set on the river bottom. In high-flow times Mike would stand in the bed of a pickup truck atop a bridge over the river with a heavy salt-water fishing rod and reel attached to a rod on a swiveling base. The cable from the rod and reel connected to a 80-100 pound lead airplane-shaped weight which carried a meter down into the water. This meter was a vertically-oriented cylinder that had 6 or 7 cups in line around its circumference. The water flowing by was caught by the cups, causing it to rotate in proportion to the rate of flow. A pin would click with each revolution. This click was amplified and heard through headphones. The clicks were then counted to measure the flow. This was sometimes difficult due to rapid revolutions. Another challenge was cranking up the heavy weight quickly to prevent floating logs from damaging the meter. Measurement of river levels was most important when water levels were rising due to rains. This would often be a high-risk operation- Mike would be standing in a truck bed in lightning storms holding a rod attached to a cable that went into water!

In the 1970’s Mike participated in a federal program with the goal of water testing the water in the tributaries of the Cahaba River. The team included a chemist, a hydrologist, and a microbiologist (which he called “the fish guy”). Most of them were just out of college, in their early twenties. Although Mike did not have a degree, he had practical knowledge that benefited the team. They had to get supplies from backroads through the woods, and then travel down the streams. Madriver canoes were the vehicles they used. To sample streams more efficiently, they split into groups to cover four different areas at a time. One of the guys was overweight, and when in the canoe, made it impossible to keep it level (trim). He quickly became the designated “pick-up guy” who would meet them downstream to off-load the samples and pick them up when the day’s work was done. Being in the wilderness all day, they had to carry food and drinking water, as well as testing supplies. Taking some inspiration from an uncle he had visited at Fort Benning, GA, Mike went to an Army-Navy store and bought backpacks and canteens to simplify the process. He also impressed his co-workers when he used his lighter and a pan to heat up his lunch. (“I always had my lighter and knife with me”).

There were two tributaries Mike mentioned by name. On Black Creek, near Trussville and Leeds they found an un-mapped road and an old iron bridge. Turkey Creek, near Pinson, had popular swimming holes but was too cold for him. They once found small fish called darters. The fish guy wanted to keep some. They were transported back to the lab in pieces of a garbage bag which were filled with water. They set up an aquarium in the lab, and got some store-bought fish food, but the darters weren’t interested.

One of the main goals of the water testing was to measure the amount of oxygen in the streams and rivers. Oxygen levels indicate the health of the water system. Higher oxygen indicating less pollution and better conditions for life. At some point the project had a $1,000 DO meter for measuring oxygen concentrations, but didn’t dare trust it in a backpack or canoe, so it stayed in the lab. It was critical to get the samples back to the lab without any change in the oxygen levels. Prior to the sampling, the bottles were labeled. Samples were taken from different areas and placed in the appropriate bottles. BOD bottles (which I have learned stands for Biological Oxygen Demand) were the first part of getting the water back to the lab. They were made of thick glass and had a separate glass top which when pressed down sealed itself and pushed out all air. The other part of stabilizing the oxygen was a technique Mike said originated in the 1800s, called the Winkler method (https://serc.carleton.edu/microbelife/research_methods/environ_sampling/oxygen.html). Two milliliters of sulfuric acid was manually pipetted into each water sample before sealing the top- thus preventing changes in the oxygen level. The bottles were then placed in holes made in a styrofoam block that was wedged in the middle on the canoes. When the samples made it to the lab, the remainder of the Winkler chemicals were added and the oxygen levels measured. Prior to the acquisition of the DO meter, the last step of the testing involved slowly adding the last reagent through a calibrated burrette glass tube until the mixture turned clear. The amount of water added then allowed calculation of the oxygen level.

Later Mike did industrial pretreatment. He knew that some factories and treatment plants were being overlooked as potential sources for water pollution. So, he looked through the phone book to identify these industries. One of the things they did was to see what solid trash was being released into the watershed. An example of this was Bama Jelly’s production of blackberry jam. He found that the seeds were washed down the drains, eventually getting into the streams. A simple solution was to place a screen over the drains to catch the seeds. Their main technique was to put dye into the interior drains and then check the sewer manholes to see where the dye re-appeared. There had to be a manhole within 500 feet of the plant, and then every 500 feet for some distance. (“Finding those was a job!”)

Mike surprised me with a question near the end of our discussion:
“I want to know if all of our efforts were worth it… did it make a difference?”

I paused, thinking about how the Cahaba River has changed since the 1970s- how increased construction, stormwater runoff, and pollution have had negative effects. But then I thought about the successes of the Cahaba River Society, Cahaba Riverkeeper and many others who love and support the river. I assured him that his work was important and appreciated, and that many people are continuing the fight to protect the Cahaba River- as a major drinking water source, for its accessible and unique beauty and as one of Alabama’s (and the country’s) top natural resources.