Time, the same as weight, was important to us on the Clear Fork. It takes time to portage the 21 dams that cross the river between Abilene and Possum Kingdom Lake. A couple of the lower manmade obstacles, which have been built to facilitate the property owners crossing at low water fords, we were actually able to slide over due to the rise in the rivers flow. Then there were others, some only a few feet above the rivers surface, that still took several hours to cross. And there were still others that, to us, looked like Niagara Falls. The three-tier spillway a short distance west of the city of Lueders was daunting. One dam alone, the Gulf, took us 7-1/2 hours to portage. With the current so strong, we had to pull up a half-mile before reaching it. The river's surface was over three feet below the bank. Bob had to climb out on his belly, I then handed him one piece of gear after another which he stacked on shore. Then it took us a couple of hours to hack our way over 200 yards through the brambles and briars up a 60-degree slope. Once we reached the flat on top, all our gear had to be carried through knee-high weeds, briars, and mesquite trees. At the other end we were faced with a repeat of the trail clearing, this time downhill, which wasn't any easier. Once we were back to the water's edge, Bob remarked, "That's one more behind us." We found ourselves repeating this phrase with less enthusiasm each time. In a span of four days, towards the end of the trip, we had to portage five difficult dams from the Gulf to the one at Eliasville, with the last being the easiest. But of course that's all relative. At the town of Lueders (there and at Eliasville, were the only two city limits we passed through), we were to have our first of four re-supply rendezvous. Kevin Levesque brought us batteries for our headlamps and flashlights, and film for our cameras, as well as picking up our exposed film. Fresh supplies including food and fresh water were important at this location since this was the staging point for the portion of the trek where we would not cross a road for 12 days. The Hendrick which also includes the Krooked River holdings, and the Lambshead Ranch (Reynolds/Mathews clan), own almost this entire area and besides being vast it's also on the most beautiful stretch of the river. In fact the beauty of the landscape throughout our trek offered many opportunities for photographs and video footage. The ruggedness of the country was sometimes dotted, other times completely blanketed with wild flowers of varied colors. Wildlife abounded. We saw whitetail deer, wild turkey, feral hogs, beaver, owls and had songbirds including cardinals, kites, scissortails and painted buntings overhead escorting us all along the way. Back to the aspect of time in relation to travel, it also took time to reposition rocks and boulders. Many places where we encountered rocks that stretched from one side to the other, we were forced to create paths so we would have enough room to slide our canoe in between these obstacles where there is only a couple of inches of water flowing through the shallow stretches. Day after day, we lost count, but estimated we were getting in and out of the boat between 40 and 50 times to push and pull rather than ride in our boat. We would paddle perhaps 30 yards because the water level was too deep to walk, then would be ankle deep and forced to disembark. The untold number of both large and small rocks we moved were backbreaking and tiring to say the least, but the effort to get in and out of our canoe was a major work-out in itself. Some shallows were only 20 yards long, others over a hundred, and there were places where this went on for miles. Only twice in the entire trip did we reach a point of exasperation concerning a true portage. Once when we encountered a shallow dam built by an oil company that was not on our map, and we were in a hurry to reach our next objective, and the other (that was really aggravating) was an abandoned oil pipe crossing the river that blocked our path. We also had two places in the river blocked completely by logs and debris which required us to use hand shears and a wire saw to cut our way through, but that was expected and taken in stride. Bob and I both felt, and still do believe, that we have been in training our entire lives just to realize the capabilities of being able to accomplish this feat. Experience in, and knowledge of, the outdoors was critical. Physical strength and endurance was required. But hardheadedness, as well as determination, was even more important. We came upon problems that seemed impossible to overcome, but we accomplished them just the same. While we have no visions of grandeur, in the sense that we know we're not Lewis and Clark, we do take pride knowing that we have done something no other human has accomplished. In the year 2002 this type of adventure isn't readily available this close to civilization. Bits and pieces of the Clear Fork have been seen by fishermen and hunters in modern times. Many a true cowboy or pioneer has watered their horse at the river's edge and crossed it at various passable shallow fords. But even the landowners, some who have lived on the banks for 70 or more years, have never seen all of their own property along the river. It's just that thick with vegetation, remote and wild in places. We cherish the thought that we have now seen land and river that only primitive peoples have visited, and just perhaps not at all by even them. We encountered flood stages that truly had us concerned for our well being. We spent several days covered in mud so completely that I only half-jokingly described ourselves as looking like professional lady mud wrestlers. We both came too close to being snake-bitten, we sweltered in the sun while paddling down river stretches that offered no shade cover in the middle of the day, and the gnats at times were much more of a problem than flies or mosquitoes. That one 12-day stretch where we didn't even encounter a road, we were so low on fresh drinking water that we actually drank our dish water. No joke, we had rationed our available water to three military canteens each per day when we should have been drinking at least twice that amount to stay in a good hydrated condition. Each morning we would finish our instant oatmeal and dried fruit by scraping out the last tiniest morsel, add three teaspoons of water and clean the canteen cup with our finger. We would drink the water rather than throw it away, then repeat the process with another couple of teaspoons of water and drink it as well. Not necessarily tasty, but it was moisture. Actually we did have a compact quality water purification system with us, but chose not to use it because the water quality of the river at flood stage is less than desirable. Pesticides and herbicides run off from the ranches and farms, and then there are the chemicals used by oil drilling operations as well as raw sewage we knew had to be running into the river. It's sad really that these conditions exist, but it is part of what modern man is doing to our environment. Preaching about water quality is never pleasurable, but I can't gloss over the subject even while telling this story. Food was never a problem, and Bob is known for his wild-game cooking. We ate well; squirrel and bullfrogs were in ample supply. Bob also handled the drop-lines, which produced a good-sized yellow-cat and numerous 6-to-8-pound channel cats. We dined on Bulrush shoots, along with the freeze-dried vegetables we carried with us. We even had a soft-shelled turtle that moved too slowly. I pinned it to the river bottom with my foot. Of course many of you already know that I have taken survival skills very seriously for most of my life, so it shouldn't surprise you that I carried a couple of mouse traps along with us. Truth is we didn't have to set the traps because a field mouse tried unsuccessfully to hide under my bivy one morning. Tiny it was, but the meat was white and tasty. We had expected to see plenty of snakes on our trip, and both of us had close calls with Cottonmouth Water Moccasins. Then near the end of the trip one morning while I was digging my "cat-hole" on a slope with a military tri-fold shovel, I noticed a "coontail" (Western Diamondback) rattlesnake just about 18-inches from my face. It was coiled, but its tail was underneath its body and no rattle was emanating. The long, forked tongue slithered out and back. But the fella' seemed not to be interested in me. Nonetheless, I stepped back easily and headed back to camp to get the frog gig and Bob with his .410. First we had to have television footage and 35 mm photos. And then when Bobby shot it in the head, I pinned it to the ground with the gig. More film close-ups of the fangs, then it was skinned and prepared to go along with that evening's dinner. Rattlesnake meat is delicious. While I have some of you frowning about the thought of eating a snake, you might as well hear it now that we also grilled a skunk. Truthfully it's the "skunk" smell that comes to mind, but we didn't have that situation arise. The two-striper was dispatched quickly and with a cautious skinning job we had no problem. Eating a skunk was actually part of our planned menu. There's a couple of books (Interwoven and Lambshead Before Interwoven) written about the Lambshead ranch family that are very descriptive about the Clear Fork country and history in the late 1800's. There's a mention of several of the ranch hands coming across an old Indian preparing a skunk for eating and I knew I had to give the meat a try myself to add to the list of various critters I've sampled over the years during several survival courses and such. Bob was willing as well, so when a young female skunk was spotted on the bank of the river, and hesitated long enough for me to load a round in my .22, all that was left was the skinning. The eating was easy. It's really good dark meat, and I promise I've eaten worse things that you really don't want to hear about. Bob and I spent 11-months in preparation for the 32-day trek, I spent over 140 hours alone just on map work. We hired a plane (Plane Texans, Inc.) and with a couple of friends (Lou Barkholtz and Jerry Lunsford) as pilots, we flew the entire length of the Clear Fork looking for, and plotting, dams and hazards. Dennis McGuire, of Aerial Angler Videos, flew the river and filmed various dams and shallow-water areas to help us choose the safest route over, or around, the many obstacles we were to be faced with. We weighed every piece of gear we carried, sorted and resorted, packed and repacked dry bags with the items we carried with us, adding or deleting as the case would have it. Much like a lengthy fishing or hunting trip, the planning and preparation was fun in itself. Bob has spent months, and has many more to go, researching the history of the area for the planned book about the trek. We have nine hours and 33 minutes of video tape shot during the trip of just scenery and wildlife, and our Honey Hole TV producer, Dirk Hardy, is busy taping interviews with the individuals who are important to the television special we are compiling. He has literally hundreds of hours of studio time ahead of him before completion. It's been a trip! Next Page