This was going to be a unique trip in a few ways. Instead of our standard four-day float, we will only be camping one night and fishing two half days. How? Why? Good questions.
Through some river relationships we have developed, we got an offer to camp on some premier private land. This stretch, about 2 ½ miles, has the best fishing on the upper river in my opinion. With our busy schedules, this was the time we were able to carve out. We all agreed, let’s get out there while the getting is good!
It seems like every trip we take, there is always someone new and always someone who couldn’t make it back. This time, it was a young man named Austin. Hunter and Austin are great friends and work together every day. Austin was no stranger to the stories of the Devils River and was quick to accept the invite. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with the type of trips we take, but despite his lack of experience, he makes up for it with his drive to get knee-deep into the situation. In other words, he’s extremely excited and engaged in learning. But he had some surprises in store.
We make our way down the dusty, winding roads towards the river valley. Passing a lot of my favorite cactus, the ocotillo! Denise and I both have ocotillo tattoos on our forearms stemming from trips we have taken in South and West Texas. Once we make it to the river, it’s time to get a camping spot picked out and unload gear as quickly as possible. This is a short trip, and we want to maximize our time on the water. Choosing a spot next to fast-moving water is ideal simply because of the soothing sounds of rushing water at night. We unload everything at the campsite, then reload onto our kayaks. It’s time to push off.
I position my boat towards the deep water and sunken timbers next to the bank in order to make my first cast perfect. Honestly, I think it was my third cast, and I landed my first fish. This was a good sign! This was what I was hoping for! As we drifted down the river, the fishing kept getting better. If I wasn’t landing a fish, I was continuing to generate quality bites and interest. At this point, I am now focusing on finding the larger female bass. Every so often, I would turn back to check on my son. When I did, I could see he was in his element. It’s not just the look on his face or the celebratory yelling when he landed a fish; it’s something else, something all around you. Like an aura of peace. Seeing this really set the mood for our trip. Austin, well, he’s learning his way down the river. I can hear him cussing like a drunk sailor from 150 yards away. He is wearing shorts, and the large horse flies are biting him faster than he can reel back his cast. It made me laugh every time I would hear it. Lesson 1: Always wear long pants.
Have you ever looked at a beautiful painting and thought, I really wish I could paint myself into this! Maybe you desire to see the majestic mountains and buffalo with snow-covered backs painted into the valleys. Or maybe it’s a painting of a few cowboys around a fire with the night sky. I am not sure why, but this thought crossed my mind when we were in Wyoming. What would the painting look like? Where would it be? Well, let me paint you a picture. The scene is about six to ten miles down the Devils River in early spring. On one side, there is a steep cliff about 200 feet high, and on the other side is a smooth, native grass-covered bank lined with trees. I am standing in the middle of the river, about waist deep, facing the cliff with my back to the artist. My kayak is tied to my waist, so it won’t drift off. The sun is coming up, and I am admiring God’s work, planning the perfect first cast. Behind me, in the shallow water, is my daughter Elizabeth. She is leaning over, getting into her kayak. Eager to be next to me. On the shoreline is our campsite. A few small tents and a fire pit still smoking. No flames, but heavy smoke rising. Denise is kneeling on the ground, tending to the fir,e making breakfast on a cast iron skillet. She has her beanie on. Cold mornings are not her favorite, but feeding her family is. At the same time, she’s trying to keep Moose, our chocolate lab, from eating the bacon. Hunter is standing next to Denise, having a cup of coffee and keeping a conversation while still waking up. His boat is on the bank, ready to go. The sky is blue and the crest of the Cliffside is glowing orange as the sun rises. You can see the desert mountains rolling in the endless distance with sage and cactus covering the hillsides.
I thought a lot about this, then I came to a conclusion: don’t be envious of the art or wish you could paint yourself in. After all, it is really the artist and painting that are envious of you! Go live it!
That night, we camped “cowboy style” on sleeping bags under the night sky with no tents. This one was a real surprise for Austin. When he asked about a tent, we all just started laughing. We lay there that night, drifting off to the sounds of the rolling river and northern wind blowing across the tops of the cottonwood trees. The stars were like those that most people had never seen before. You could see the entire Milky Way stretching across the sky with nothing to hide it but the silhouette of the tree tops. We laughed all night and enjoyed stories over cold beers and cigars. The sounds of animals pacing around all night in search of food would wake you up from time to time.
The next morning brought some of the best bass fishing I have ever experienced in my life. Sometimes, as soon as my bait hit the water, it was met with an explosion from a hungry bass. All morning long, you could hear us whooping and hollering down the river in excitement! In a combined eight hours of fishing, I was able to land between 45-50 quality large and smallmouth bass. It was going to be hard to leave, and we all knew it… As we packed up, we scouted for any trash or signs of our campsite that could be left behind. It’s imperative that this place is left as we found it or better! As we start our journey home, I occasionally glance in my rear-view mirror. The river valley fades away, and only a cloud of dust is left behind us to settle on the sagebrush. It always amazes me that this place can exist in the middle of some of the most desolate and rough terrain in Texas. It reminds me of a cartoon we watched as kids, Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. Sure seems like the place where Wile E. would see a desert mirage chasing Road Runner, only to see it fade away into the desert, just like my rear view mirror…
As I have mentioned before, I feel compelled to share stories of this place, tell about the beauty, and do my best to try and convey how we feel at the time. But I will stop short of the due diligence needed, the logistical tasks, and key pieces to putting this kind of trip together. That work is for you to do. This year, my wife is going to join us, and I am both excited and nervous. There is a beauty here that needs to be shared with the people you love most. But there are clear and real dangers on the Devils River that you must be conscience and mindful of at all times. Be prepared and watch your step. There is no quitting, and there is only one way out. THE END…
From the Texas outdoors: the Devil’s River doesn’t forgive shortcuts. For more time on that same water, Devil’s River covers the full float. And when the paddling is done and the stars come out, The Pecos River and The Starlight Canvas speaks the same language.
