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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.

VB

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 - 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.”

VB

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.