Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, August 14, 1994 TAG: 9408190003
SECTION: DISCOVER PAGE: 14 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MELISSA DeVAUGHN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
An hour later, as we slipped our rental canoe into the calm waters of the Maury River, the sun began to shine, burning the morning clouds away. My spirits rose. We began to paddle, scaring the big, brown carp resting on the riverbed. They darted out of sight, leaving us alone on the peaceful stream.
Glenn Rose, a friendly, talkative fellow who owns the James River Basin Canoe Livery, recommended this trip. I'd never canoed the Maury and was eager for something with a little bite to it.
``Even at zero,'' Rose said of the river's water level, ``the Maury's got some fun stuff in it.'' The James River, he said, is a little more laid back, with calm water and good fishing holes. "If you like white-water, this is the closest you'll get around here," he said.
To my glee, few people were on the river this Friday morning. We met Jerry Austin, who works for Rose at the Canoe Livery. It was his day off and he was doing what he always does in his free time: fishing the Maury in his canoe.
``I take all day,'' he said. ``You guys will be getting out of the river in five hours, but I'll go slow and get out sometime around 8 [p.m.],'' he said. ``Nothing better than taking your time.''
We wished Jerry a good day of fishing and paddled on our way.
Floating in a canoe is a perfect way to watch the wildlife along the banks of a river. It's quiet, unobtrusive and slow enough to get a good look at their activities.
``Look, a turtle,'' said my canoeing partner, David , as he pointed to a small, brightly shelled creature perched on a waterlogged tree branch sticking out of the river. We paddled closer and it looked at us complacently before slipping into the water. Eastern Painted turtles are common to rivers, and can often be found sunning on partly submerged logs. They like the soft, mushy bottoms of slow-moving sections of rivers and streams.
Later, after floating past the remains of the empty Bluebird bus factory, a major employer of Buena Vista residents before it shut its doors in December 1992, we heard movement on the bank to our right.
"It's a beaver," I said, excitedly. "Or a groundhog, I can't tell."
The slow-moving creature snuffled around a big sycamore tree, digging among the roots sticking out over the river.
We maneuvered the canoe closer to the bank for a better look and watched the creature make his rounds.
He went around one tree, up the bank, around another tree. Then he turned around, headed back down the bank toward the river, sniffed in a hole and disappeared into the brush.
"It's a groundhog," David said.
The sun I longed for earlier in the day began to bear down. I wished I had brought a hat. David blobbed on a bunch of sunscreen, but I didn't bother.
We stopped for lunch on a rocky bank. Our peanut butter and honey sandwiches were mushy and squashed but they tasted great. Anything eaten on the bank of a river tastes great.
We listened to the sounds. Flowing water. Insect songs. A tractor in the distance. It was a beautiful day.
Our biggest white-water of the day was at Goose Neck Dam. The remains of the old dam form a steep drop of whirling white water through a 3-foot passage. We got out to scout the situation. Four canoeists stood along the wall overlooking the river, scratching their heads.
"Where are ya'll going to go?" one of the guys asked as we walked toward them.
"The owner at the canoe livery told us to go down there," David said, pointing to the narrow passage on the far side of the river.
"Well, we'll let you go first," they said.
We paddled hard to hit the rapid just right. Not too far to the left or we'd get pulled into an eddy. Not too far to the right or we'd smash into a rock outcropping.
The canoe reached the falls and "whump!" we were down in a flash. No flips. No mistakes. It was easy.
The hot afternoon sun was relentless and we finally banked the canoe to go for a dip in a great swimming hole. It was shaded by several overhanging old catalpa trees. The water felt cool and refreshing. Back in the boat, we paddled toward the bank to check out the aquatic life. We weren't surprised when we saw what looked like hundreds of those giant carp hanging out in the shady depths of the water. I would too, if I were a fish.
We paddled hard to make the agreed meeting time with our shuttle, but no matter how fast we went, the little whirligig beetles swimming ahead of us would not be beaten. These little predatory creatures look like they have four eyes, but actually, there are only two. One eye looks up and the other looks down in the water, scanning the depths for tidbits to eat. The whirligigs formed little paths in the water as they swam, like the path a snake makes as it slithers in desert sand.
Our 12-mile river trip ended at Locher Landing, just near a railroad bridge where the Maury enters the James River. We packed our canoe onto the livery van and headed back to our truck. In one afternoon we had experienced a little bit of white-water, great swimming and interesting wildlife.
I couldn't think of a better way to spend a day.
by CNB