Canoe Trip on the Clinch River
Dylan is my son. Stevin is his friend. They have been friends for all of their 10 young years and Stevin has been visiting Castlewood/St. Paul since he was 5. For weeks I had been building up this trip to them: We are going
fishing and we are going to take our canoe!
We had a wonderful and relaxing morning just fishing and talking at the side of the river. Dylan and Stevin decided to move a little up-river to try their luck leaving my dad and I to continue fishing the hole where we started. We did catch a few fish, including a rather nice bass, but the fishing was actually secondary to just being there.
The shadows became shorter and the shade scarce. It was time to put the canoe in the water and make the trip from Castlewood to St. Paul. We put in just about where the old Castlewood Bridge used to be and the boys, wide-eyed with excitement, and I pushed away from the bank leaving my father to take the van to St. Paul to pick us up. Very soon, they spotted something on the water.
“There’s a turtle”, said Stevin, pointing a little to his left.
“Let get a closer look”, said Dylan.
As we drew closer, the “turtle” turned out to be a snake. We were already close enough in their opinion. That was all for the turtle but the boys did remain alert in case there was another “turtle”.
As we went under the Castlewood Bridge and headed around the hill towards the train-trestle I started telling them stories of colonial times and the importance of rivers for transportation, and commerce. They heard that canoes, much like the one that they were traveling in at that minute, were used to move people and supplies quickly and easily from one place to another. They learned that towns were built near the rivers for many reasons and that trade was one of the most important motives. Tales of Indians, before European settlers arrived, and stories of Daniel Boone and
his excursions into Kentucky added to the charm of the day. They listened to every word as if they were suddenly transported to a time more than 200 years ago and they were trappers and traders looking forward to the visit to
the big city after weeks in the woods trapping and living of the land.
Indeed, they were part of the stories as we were traveling in much the same fashion that hundreds before us have done for hundreds of years.
The sound of the River was increasing now. We were approaching what they called “the rapids”. (To a couple of 10-year old boys on their first river trip, they truly were “rapids”.) Aside from getting hung up on a large rock for a few seconds, we passed through and continued on.
Dylan and Stevin caught site of an egret feeding in the water ahead of us, and another on the bank. Soon thereafter, ducks appeared along side. This was a much different view of the river that what they were used to seeing. Instead of catching a glimpse of the river as we drove by at 20-30 miles per hour, we were now part of the river as it traveled to St. Paul and beyond.
“Catch anything?” a voice called out.
“A couple. Threw ‘em back” was the reply.
A few more twists in the river, more rocks and a “rapid” or two later, we pulled up to the bank in St. Paul . just above where the old bridge was located. It had taken an hour and a half to make the trip.
“How was it?” I asked the boys.
“Better than a roller coaster” they answered.
When I asked for an explanation they told me that it was just as fun an exciting and it lasted a lot longer. Then they asked “can we do it again”?
“Did you catch anything?” another voice called out.
“A couple” I said, looking at the boys. “I think I’ll keep ‘em.”
