Buffalo River, Day Two

After our crepuscular hog wild encounter of the night before, I was glad to be up and into the boats and moving on down the river in the sunshine. We were glad that reports of rain had not materialized, and the day promised to be perfect for paddling.

Mist still lay upon the water, turning the wildlife downstream into a soft-edged portrait.

By now we had seen so many eagles, both adult and juvenile, that we were excited to see a great blue heron. Whoo hooo!  Something new and different!

The water was so perfectly still as we left our campsite that I felt like the guilty child disturbing the cake icing when I dipped my paddle in. That same child also thrills to be the first to taste the confection, and I felt like a true explorer, being the incipient of the early morning ripples melting the perfect glass surface.

The wind rose after about three hours of paddling, but never to the level of the previous day, where I had felt like I was trying to churn the water into butter, I worked so hard. We did have to portage several times, though, and I gave up on the hope of ending with dry feet.

We began spotting landmarks, such as Elephant Head, and realized we were making far better time than we thought.

As we drew closer to the confluence of the Buffalo and White Rivers, it seemed the Buffalo picked up speed, as if eager to join its riparian relative on the journey to the sea. We completed the 24 mile expedition several hours earlier than we had planned.

As we entered the White, it was much colder, much deeper, and much faster. We had to shoot the width of it to enter the canoe take-out. If I missed, it was going to be several miles before I had another chance to get out. I made it.

All gear intact, including trash bags. No one became bacon bits. I call that a successful adventure.