[Paddlewise] 3 Hour Tour (long)

I had planned a nice little day trip for myself and my cousin who had just 
returned to Texas upon his retirement after several years in Malaysia and 
Indonesia.  I had introduced him to kayaking a few years earlier with a 
pretty miserable November paddle in 40 degree weather, 20+ mph wind, and 
drizzling rain.  Remember that if you are from South Texas and/or Malaysia 
that 40 degrees is really cold.  He said that he had enjoyed it, but I 
thought I owed him a much nicer trip this time around.  So with the forecast 
for 80 degrees and 10 to 15 mph winds, I drove us to one of my favorite 
paddling spots, Corpus Christi Bayou.  The word bayou is really a misnomer. 
This not your typical southern bayou. It is a narrow, winding channel that 
runs for 4-5 miles through the wide, shallow flats that lie between the Texas 
mainland and San Jose Island. It is, however, a major dolphin highway.

We launched at a small bait stand on the causeway between Aransas Pass and 
Port Aransas, crossed the shrimp boat channel that runs beside the causeway, 
and headed north up Corpus Christi Bayou.  We paddled by Hog Island on our 
left.  It's not really much of an island.  But it stays above water except 
during storm surges, has some vegetation, and has solid ground that you can 
actually walk on.  We left the bayou and headed over to one of the black 
mangrove clumps which dot the flats on the east  side of the bayou.  Hoping 
for some close up birding, we gently nosed into one of the small channels 
that run through this group of mangroves.  Each paddle stroke stirred up a 
plume of fine silt in the 5 inch deep water and left a coat of gooy mud on 
the end of the paddle.  No birds to be found, but we surprised a dozen or 
more mullet and what I think were a couple of small redfish.  The mullet dive 
with a little plopping sound and leave circular ripples on the surface.  The 
reds power away leaving you watching a "V" of disturbed water tumble off 
their backs.

After a quick water break, we turned back into the channel again.  We paddled 
past a brown pelican who sat totally unconcerned on one of the channel 
markers.  Not much to see so far and then suddenly a fin surfaced at 20 yards 
ahead and headed our way.  It surfaced again at 5 yards and then sadly again 
at 20 yards behind and going away fast.  Our first dolphin was certainly in a 
hurry to get somewhere. He left us behind so fast that we hardly had time to 
get excited. We continued on, hoping that more would follow. But we passed 
the big oyster reef, followed the wide curve to the east past the shrimp boat 
remains, and headed toward Aransas Bay without another sighting. The low haze 
obscured the shoreline and dunes of San Jose Island.  At first glance it 
seemed as if you could just keep heading east into the Gulf.  But then you 
would catch a glimpse of dark green or a bump in the horizon to confirm that 
the island was still there. The wind was picking up a little and we decided 
to land just short of the sand spit that provided the last protection before 
heading out into Aransas Bay itself.

We beached our boats on Quarantine Shore (an uninviting name for our snack 
stop) and then carried them up enough so that passing boat wakes would not 
disturb them.  Quarantine Shore is 3 miles long, only 10-30 yards wide, and 
is covered by broken shells.  The 3 foot high shell bank on the bayou side 
gradually slopes down to a sort of lagoon on the back side.  Quarantine Shore 
forms the north and northeast rim of the lagoon.  Various other small strips 
of sand and shell, clumps of mangroves, and dredge material make up the rest 
of a broken circle about 2 miles in diameter.  The lagoon is nominally 1 foot 
deep, but  this is often reduced to less than an inch by the numerous oyster 
reefs which criss-cross it.  It is an interesting paddle at very high water. 
But since I react to the sound of fiberglass on oyster shell the way most 
people react to the dentist's drill,  I generally avoid this area.  We pulled 
off our PFD's and spray skirts, grabbed our snacks, and walked toward the 
point where we could look down the Aransas Bay shorline.  It was amazing that 
even on what should be such a desolate spot, there were actually wildflowers 
blooming.  We watched a small group of brown pelicans at the point and got a 
good look at a pair of oyster catchers with their long reddish-orange bills.  
As we were walking back to the kayaks, my cousin suddenly stopped and pointed 
to a small clump of dead grass on the shell bank.  It was, I very quickly 
realized, a rattlesnake.  It was coiled up in a circle just smaller than a 
dinner plate. It had a light tan body with slightly darker brown markings.  
It  was laying aboslutely motionless, half buried in the broken shell only a 
foot from the waters edge.  It never did rattle, and at first we thought it 
might be dead.  But before we left, it changed positions just enough to 
confirm that it was indeed alive.  It was hard to imagine that there was 
enough food on this narrow little strip of land for it to survive. 

As we got back to the kayaks, I had a new safety insight.  Normally as I 
approach my kayak I am thinking about rearranging the gear to rebalance the 
boat, or about  adjusting my fool pegs, or getting back to the takeout on 
time. This time my only thought was  "Gee, it would be real easy for a SNAKE 
to crawl right up INTO the COCKPIT ."  Suddenly rolling, bracing, paddle 
floats, flares, and rescue techniques seemed less important.  For real 
safety, a South Texas kayker needs to carry and use a good cockpit cover.  
After using my paddle to thoroughly stir the inside of the cockpit, I reached 
inside and got my sprayskirt and pfd and vowed never to launch without my 
cockpit cover again.  My cousin grabbed the end of his kayak near the water,  
leaving me to walk up into the brush and grab the front.  A few light kicks 
to the side of the boat gave me the confidence to walk up into the grass and 
reach around the boat.   We got the boats into the water and headed back 
toward home.

After dodging a couple of fishing boats, we spotted another dolphin coming 
our way.  Unfortunately it was headed in the opposite direction and the 
encounter was almost as brief as the first one.  A few minutes later we 
spotted a pair of dolphins about 50 yards in front and on the other side of 
the channel.  Again they were headed in the opposite direction, but we had a 
chance to turn around and get in front of these.  I swung my boat around and 
headed diagonally across the channel.  I got turned around a little too 
slowly and they swam by about 10 yards in front of me.  My cousin was having 
trouble turning his kayak and did not get close at all.  I turned back around 
and rejoined him.  We continued back down the bayou and just as we were 
passing the mangroves that we had explored earlier, we spotted a group of 4 
dolphins headed our way.  They were pretty far ahead and coming our way 
slowly.  We swung around 180 degrees and moved to the middle of the channel.  
All of a sudden we had 3 adults and 1 juvenille swimming right by the boats.  
They swam alongside for an instant and then slowly started to pull away.  My 
cousin, who I had thought was getting pretty tired, suddenly found new energy 
and pushed past me to keep up with them.  They kept moving away and then for 
no apparent reason just made a 180 turn and swam under my cousin's kayak.  
Then they made another 180 and came swimming alongside again.  This time one 
of the adults was keeping his head above the water as it swam alongside.  It 
seemed as if it was "kayak watching" the same way we were dolphin watching. A 
couple of minutes more and my cousin began to slow down.  I followed the 
dolphins a little bit further.  They pulled away, did one of those double 
180's, and swam alongside me again.  Finally they headed off again and I 
turned around to join my cousin, who by this time was totally out of breath.  

The rest of the way back was pretty uneventful, but we had had a really neat 
day already.  At the takeout my cousin learned one of kayakings great 
lessons, "The trip is not over till the boats are properly tied to the 
truck".  I landed first and pulled my boat up on the shore.  I walked out 
into the water to steady the kayak so my cousin could get out.  He could not 
get the rudder up so I stepped to the back to raise it.  Before I had a firm 
hold on the boat he slid back and sat up on the back deck in order to get 
out. By the way, the rear deck on a Sea Otter is about 4 ft high.  The boat 
threw him in the water just slightly slower than a bucking brahma dumps a 
first time rider.  Dry all day and then soaked at the end.  We will have to 
work on exiting the kayak without help on his next trip.  He did have a set 
of dry clothes and his wallet was in my glove box so it was not too bad.  

Dolphins, brown pelicans, oyster catchers, assorted herons, gulls and terns, 
and one ratttlesnake.  A really interesting 3 hour tour. 

Mark J. Arnold
MJAkayaker_at_aol.com
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