Memorial Day Weekend Sabine Float Trip

As I headed North in the grey dawn, I worried that I might be the only one at the river and have to turn back, not willing to go it alone. Silly me – when I arrived it appeared as if the Spanish Armada was preparing to invade England. Got my stuff on the beach, no rush as shuttle lady had just left and would be back in 45 minutes or so. But where were my peeps? Not one. Alone in the midst of strangers. Oh well.
The shuttle lady returned and we did that. Boldly I set forth and soon cast my lot with a motley crew of Houstonians, steering clear of the rowdy scouts and church groups. These other renegades were more to my liking. They had a token Englishman among them who soon had us saying, “torch” and “dustbin” and taking afternoon tea.
I was a little bit anxious as my neighbor had told me the Sabine had dangerous undertows and treacherous snags. It soon became clear it was no Selway or Chattooga. No funny looking kids with banjos on the bridge either. Stumps, there were, but easily read and seen. Beaches around every bend. Clear water to cool off in.
At our campsites there were always many hoof prints of feral hogs, which some guy from another group said were dangerous. Bah. What sane hog would come rooting around ten tents and one hammock (which I must have!) and a smoldering campfire and even a dog? We fretted not. However, the sand no-see-ums were vicious.
My gear worked out quite well. It is all either forty years old or brand new, so I attracted the curious for both reasons. Everyone was Ga-Ga over my Ultimate Tegris hybrid. Took 62 years to be the first kid on the block with a new kind of toy, but better late than never.
The weather couldn’t have been better. On the second afternoon, we briefly considered whether to beach it or not, as a storm could be seen in the distance, but since a was around every bend, we persevered. The storm went the other way and we gave thanks.
The third morning, a pair of kingfishers kept pace with me for about a mile or so, making that buzzing call they do so well. A ginormous carp cleared the water near Bayou Anacoco, startling me. And then it was all over, sadly. My reawakened wanderlust has been considerably whetted and I can hardly wait for the next adventure. If for the fact that my kid is at Lamar and not quite off on her own yet, I do believe I would turn full-bore gypsy. Soon I hope.

Phil Rogers

Memorial Trip on the Sabine 2010

If anyone from the club went on the trip it would be appreciated if a trip report was posted either by posting it directly to this Blog or emailing it to me and I will post it. As for now here is our attempt of making the trip.
After a hard work week Lloyd and I were very tired and really were dreading the put-in, take-out and shuttle. The original plan was that we, Lloyd and I, were to put in at Put in with canoe. Dad, Fritz Wise, would put in at Take out and motor up river and meet us at the first night’s camp. Well, after driving up to Dad’s in Jasper Friday night Lloyd came up with a brilliant idea. We should leave our canoe at his place and motor up river with him and meet the group. Especially since we were sharing food and drink with him. It was settled. Saturday Morning we drove to the Take out. It was a beautiful morning. We stopped at the local donut shop in Jasper for breakfast then on to the river. We made it to the boat ramp by the Take out by 8 AM. There were a couple of families already enjoying the sandbar and river. We launched the 14 foot Jon boat with no problems. That was when Dad remembered he had left his water shoes at home. He was still wearing his boots. After rummaging his way through his dry box he found a pair of tennis shoes which he changed into. Now we boarded the vessel and with a full pull on the start cord the engine started and we were off. We past the Canoe take out and waved to the people on the banks. The water was up to a good level. There would be no dragging a boat today. We past Bayou Anacoca and saw a Kingfisher get his breakfast. We continued on past a couple of really big white sandbars. The water was clear and smooth. About 2 ½ miles upstream the motor started sounding funny and we were going nowhere. After a couple of throttle adjustments we made it into shore where Dad and Lloyd get a good look at what the problem was. The clutch in the propeller died. After about 45 minutes they improvised a quick fix. This would hopefully get us back to the boat ramp. It lasted about 2 minutes. So the oars were then installed and Dad took the first session, then Lloyd , then me. We managed to row ourselves back to the ramp then load up. We were now on our way back to jasper. Once back there we fired up the grill and had our steak dinner. We all agreed that it was a good idea that we were with Dad as the motor was going to give out anyway. At least we were there to help him and had we been upstream in the canoe and he not show up we would have been sick with worry and paddling all night to catch up with him. Cell phones do not work in that area. So, not all was lost. Lloyd got a bike ride in on Sunday, I cleaned house and Dad cleaned his freezer out as it too died Saturday night. Good thing he was home. We will try this again Labor Day. At least our gear is all packed. Only have to pack clothes and food for that trip. Hopefully see you then.