We're heading down the home stretch of summer, and what a fine season it has been.
Mild temperatures and adequate rain have been the norm, and the weather has been great for doing anything outdoors. Rain means our streams have been in good shape for canoeing and kayaking. The rivers are on the low side now, but, no doubt, paddlers have enjoyed the flow for most of the summer.
That got me thinking about the Buffalo River and all of the fine times and great memories the river has given us over the years. The main ingredients of my favorite Buffalo River story is a smidgen of floating and a dab of hunting.
It was October 2000 and a buddy and I were canoeing the hallowed Lower Buffalo Wilderness that takes in the final 23 miles of the Buffalo. The float starts at the Rush access and ends where the Buffalo joins the White River at Buffalo City with no access in between. It's a mandatory overnight trip, but better to stretch it over three or more days.
We were in our second day of a three-day float. The mid-October time frame meant there were still a few days left in Arkansas'muzzle-loader deer season while we enjoyed this unbelievably beautiful stretch of the Buffalo.
My friend and neighbor, Matthew Ross, and I were each paddling our own canoes. Matthew was about 200 yards behind me when I passed two mules tethered to a tree along the bank. We'd canoed a dozen or more miles. From what we saw, it looked like a mule was the only way to get into this wild, rugged land.
I dipped the paddle for yet another J-stroke to move my canoe through a long pool. Far downstream, I spied a deer standing in the middle of the river enjoying a cool drink. I guessed a deer could sip for days here and never see a human. So it just wasn't this deer's day when it looked upstream and saw my canoe. The white-tail bolted from the river into the shoreline woods.
I fished the rest of the pool between me and where the deer stood, then traded pole for paddle when the pool turned into a shallow shoal.
On shore, a flash of orange caught my eye. It wasn't a maple tree in fall color, but a blaze-orange hunting vest and orange cap that got my attention. Right where I'd seen the deer was a hunter, comfy and sound asleep in a lawn chair.
The deer, a nice-sized doe, had been mere yards away from the snoozing deer hunter. He could have hit it with a rock. Here he slept with his chin on his chest while his game got away.
Just to make sure the hunter was catching 40 winks, I gave a hearty wave. No response. The bill of his ball cap remained pointed toward the ground.
When Matthew arrived, the hull of his aluminum canoe scraped bottom and made some racket, but didn't wake the snoozing deer hunter.
This was typical deer hunter's luck. Here was a guy who made an effort to saddle up a mule and ride into one of Arkansas' wildest territories. It was easy to see why he'd chosen this spot for his hunting ground. We could see a well-worn game trail leading out of the woods to the river.
It was evidently a fine place for a nap, too. Let's hope the hunter eventually got his game and enjoyed venison instead of bologna over the long winter.
Outdoors on 08/07/2014