A new year is cause for reflection on the past year, and the new year that lies ahead. Many folks spend New Years day making resolutions, while others watch football games and parades. I tend to believe the old adage that how you begin a year sets the tone for the remainder. I elected to take a kayaking trip on Huzzah Creek and the Meramec River.
I’d made a last minute decision to make the trip. The is not uncommon, since I live only a few minutes from these two fabulous Ozark streams. I rounded up my sit on top Wilderness kayak and a few supplies to make the trip a bit more enjoyable.
My wife, Dian, hauled me and my gear to the Scotia Access on the Huzzah and agreed to pick me up at Onondaga State Park on the Meramec at 3 p.m. By river it’s only a 4-mile float, which I have enjoyed many times. The real beauty of this particular trip is that I can complete it in three hours or eight hours. It all depends on my agenda. On New Years day I simply planned to check out the changes in the rivers, enjoy the wintery scenery and cast a few lures.
I always take in a deep breath of fresh, cold river air as I push my kayak off into the current. It’s my standard way of clearing the cobwebs from my head and diving into the pure enjoyment of drifting downstream.
Immediately, the clarity of the water in the Huzzah caught my attention. Sketchy rainfall in the last several months contributed to the condition of the water. I stared into the depths as I drifted over deep bluff holes full of large boulders and ancient sycamores that had fallen to a watery grave decades ago. A whole new world opened up as I enjoyed a bird’s eye view of the plentiful structure and its inhabitants. Suckers scurried too and fro. Smallmouth bass hid under the cover of logs and in between rocks. Crayfish and turtles slinked along the bottom oblivious to my presence.
A mile into my float, s shriek from high overhead interrupted the stillness. A mature Bald eagle soared on warming air currents, its ivory head and tail feathers glimmering in the midday sun. I held my paddle and admired the ease with which this national symbol navigated the blue skies.
The sound of roaring water up ahead warned of upcoming obstacles. I could see a jumble of logs and debris in the next turn. I beached my kay to take a look. Rushing water crashed into widow makers giving cause for concern. I keep a length or rope on my kayak for such barriers. I elected to lead the kayak through the hazards. I think I could have made it, but a 35-degree day is not the time to make a mistake and flip a kayak. I do carry an extra set of dry clothes, but changing clothes in frigid air isn’t exactly enjoyable.
I rounded a turn with the near bank facing south. The shiny shell of a red-eared slider caught my eye. The colorful turtle leisurely sunned itself as if soaking up rare winter rays warm enough to bring it out of the river bottom mud.
I caught movement upriver. A white tail doe stood stoically on the river’s edge with water dripping from her chin. The cold waters of the Huzzah more than likely provided her with a fresh drink daily. She eased up the bank as I approached, pausing at the wood line edge to watch me pass.
Soon I arrived at the juncture of the Huzzah and Meramec. A sharp bend held a pile of logs, from which I’ve caught many smallmouth bass over the last few years. None chased my offerings this day, however.
Towering bluffs created shadows on the river, where the temperature became noticeably cooler. Rock shelters, caves and sandstone features provided intriguing thoughts about what kind of creatures might reside within their bowels. Just then I caught movement of a small brown creature. A mink slid over the rocks and into the water with little effort. It swam parallel to my kayak for a short distance probing the cracks and crannies between rocks in search to its next meal. I enjoyed the brief encounter.
Around the next bend I met a stiff North wind. The chill in the air sent a shiver up my spine. I carried a heavier coat behind my seat but chose to paddle quickly to the next gravel bar. There I beached and built a small fire. I broke out a small pot and heated up some soup. I sat there on the gravel for an hour sipping soup and watching the river flow by without a care in the world.
I paddled to the bluff side of the Cave Hole and peered inside for a brief moment. I glimpsed at my phone; 3 p.m. approached. I had not seen another human all day. If only the rest of 2026 can be as enjoyable.
