Big Briar Creek
Saturday, October 29, 2005
by Brint Adams
What a great day for a paddle anywhere in the South! Jimmy and I were grateful for the opportunity to get out and enjoy it. We met at the Bruno's in Spanish Fort at Hwy 31 and Hwy 225, traveled north on Hwy 225 for nine miles and turned left to Byrnes Lake boat launch area. This is part of the Baldwin County Park system and is free to park and put in. We started out at 10:00 AM under perfect conditions of sunny skies, 65 degrees, a light northeasterly breeze and no current. The water level was down a little, but not too low and there was no tide movement today.
There were a few fishermen working Byrne's Lake, but very little traffic the whole trip, even out on the Tensaw. We paddled out Byrne's and turned northwest on the Tensaw, crossing it to the north end of Gravine Island, and continued directly ahead (northwest) to the cut-through to Mobile River. Out in front of the beach and sand dune on Gravine, there was a lone cormorant drying out, who reluctantly took off in labored flight right along the water's surface as we approached. Little did we know this was the first of many great bird sightings.
Once over to the cut-through, we continued along the north bank for a half mile to the turn north into Big Briar Creek. This is a fairly wide river which we followed straight north for 0.75 miles until we reached the first major tributary to the east. Along the way we spotted an unafraid young two-foot gator as well as osprey, tri-colored herons, snowy and great egrets and kingfisher.
Once in the small tributary, we followed the main channel east and north for about 1.5 miles past numerous stands of burr marigold and a few water hyacinth still blooming. As the waterway narrowed, we saw many raccoon tracks along the bank as well as signs of many wild hog in the area, who had rooted around the shores as well as made some wallowing holes.
On the way back out, we took another very small side channel, which surprisingly snaked its way back south for almost another 0.75 mile. Back in here we saw more egrets, herons, wood ducks, a red tailed hawk moving ahead of us, as well as numerous red winged blackbirds and many other smaller varieties. We paddled as far as we could go, which was all the map showed was there and stopped for lunch after paddling for about 6.6 miles. There was a large osprey nest overhead in a tall dead cypress and a woodpecker serenading us off in the distance.
After starting up again, we paddled back out to Big Briar and turned south. We saw a very small tributary along the east shore and decided to give it a try. After about ten meters in the narrow cut through the saw grass, I eased alongside a brown medium height wader with his head and long beak pointed straight up. He would not fly away as I passed and Jimmy came alongside him as well. He finally took off as we talked about him. It turned out we were next to an American Bittern doing what he normally does, which was his attempting to hide from us, by acting like he was part of the saw grass.
On the way out of Big Briar, we came across an Osprey clutching a large fish, still flopping around, with both sets of talons as he passed overhead. We also met the small gator in the same place as on the way in earlier as well as the cormorant perched on a log out in the middle of the Tensaw, drying out his wing feathers.
All in all, the day was quite eventful with all of the sightings and live action we witnessed along the way. The trip ended up right at twelve miles taking four hours of paddle time. This was definately well worth it and one we will try again in the springtime as well.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Horn Island
Pascagoula, MS
Fall 2005
by Danny Hart
In spite of the rumors that the barrier islands were closed, a couple of friends (Tony and Walter) and I couldn't let our 3-day weekend slip by without taking full advantage of the beautiful fall weather. We wanted the experience so many others have talked about, written about, and captured in art. We decided to take our chances with a trip to Horn Island.
Katrina spared no mercy in the small town of Pascagoula. Amidst piles of debris and beautiful homes left in ruins by the storm, we made our way to the vacant antebellum home where Walter's grandfather once lived on Lake Yazoo. The boat ramp and pier were destroyed but we were able to get our boats on the water and gear loaded without much trouble. With high tide approximately one hour before our launch, we had a fairly smooth departure around 9:45 AM. The north wind was to our backs and the outgoing tide moved us quickly across the ship channel and past the homeport on Singing River Island.
The wind and tide continued to be in our favor as we began the first leg of our journey to Round Island. This was Tony and Walter's first experience with an open-water voyage. Tony, an avid bike rider, was in great shape for the trip but began to notice some problems with his Perception Monarch's tracking in the wind and surf. Walter had no trouble adapting his whitewater experience to the open water. With his rental kayak, an Old Town Adventure XL 139, he took to the surf quite nicely. My Prijon Seayak handled like a dream.
As we approached Round Island, the seas continued to build. We decided to land for lunch on the west end so that we would continue our journey on the lee side. The landing was a blast! Walter and I had not surfed together in years so our landing brought back some really great high school memories of our experiences at the stumps on Dauphin Island. After a quick in-and-out landing on the tiny beach, we took a 15-minute breather for lunch and to check in on our wives (Therese and Lanee) at home (just to reassure them that we were in fact still alive and moving along without any problems).
After a quick bite to eat, we launched from the south side of the beach in effort to avoid the rolling shore break. The lee side of the island was indeed more manageable and our journey continued, next stop - Horn Island. About 2 miles south of Round, we found ourselves in 3-foot seas as we approached the ICW. Tony still had trouble with his boat's tracking, resembling the movement of a busted compass needle, and was moving along at a much slower clip than Walter and I. At this point, the seas weren't as much of a concern as the ship traffic in the ICW. We had to get across quickly to avoid the barge that was bearing down on us from the horizon. I doubled back a couple of times to make sure Tony could make it to the southern buoy ahead of the barge's passing. Paddling into the surf on the double back, my forward deck was smothered with breaking waves. I offered some assistance but Tony was pushing himself hard and holding up well. In spite of his boat's poor tracking, he reassured me that he would not need a tow. We all finally made it out of the 'danger' zone and past the southern buoy of the ship channel with time to spare as the tug and it's cargo passed behind us.
We landed on Horn in only mild surf. Once on the beach (at an area known as Waters House Crossing) we staged our camp about 5 miles from the east end. Tony and I grew up and lived in Pascagoula through high school and had never been to the barrier islands. This was our first time seeing the island, not on the horizon but under our feet. The beach was beautiful, the weather was perfect, and the bugs, well, they were everything we expected them to be. We sprayed ourselves thoroughly with skin-charring insect repellant, in hopes that this would somehow deter the rabid black flies from feasting on our flesh, but the effects upon the hordes of them were minimal. We pitched camp, took a short breather, and decided to keep moving in effort to avoid the bloodthirsty flies.
Our hike routed around the one of the lagoons, in an area known as The Gap, crossing a multitude of animal tracks (raccoons, rabbits, and gators among other less-familiars), broken sea shells, and hurricane debris blown in from the storm. We actually found 3 plastic chairs among the debris that proved to be very comfortable later that evening around the camp fire. There was very little live vegetation. Virtually all trees and bushes, though still standing, had turned brown from the high winds and saltwater storm surge. There were also very few bird sightings except for some gulls and one osprey later on in the trip. Although the bloodthirsty flies had not let up completely, their numbers began to subside as we approached the gulf waters on the south side of the island.
The huge beaches on the south side were even more beautiful than the north. We decided to walk west in hopes of catching a nice sunset and maybe seeing a few good sights along the way. About a half-mile into our hike we found a tidal pool full of feeding fish, big feeding fish. Before going any further, we agreed that we needed our fishing tackle so we turned back to camp. Upon our return to the tidal pool we found the fish were still there and still very hungry. I can't recall who caught the first or who caught the largest, but I'm confident enough to go ahead and take full credit for being the most skilled angler that evening (sorry Walt). These were blue fish that we had stumbled upon and they were not picky eaters. Crank baits, spoons, top water, flies, just about everything we threw their way suited their fancy. Hours later, well after sunset, we decided it was time to head back.
With the island turned into a virtual tinderbox, we built the campfire well below the tide line. After a full day of paddling and hiking, dinner around 10:00 pm (followed by a tasty adult beverage) we finally retired to bed. I'm not exactly sure what caused me to wake up from such a deep slumber. Perhaps it was Tony's shrill screams I heard through the heavy north wind. Perhaps it was the fact I could no longer breath comfortably without violently shaking myself awake. Perhaps there had been something in my tasty adult beverage besides scotch. Regardless of the cause, I was awake, very tired, and extremely cold! A cold front made its way through during the night and I quickly learned that a $10 fleece roll, though comfortable in warmer weather, does nothing to protect bare skin from cold wind. I almost felt guilty for recommending it to Tony as suitable bedding for our trip, but I really didn't have time to worry about that at the moment as I proceeded to freeze my better half off in the brutal north wind. Fortunately, my rain fly was just outside and the wind had temporarily swept most of the mosquitoes off to the Land of Oz (key word being 'temporary'). After a quick rain-fly burrito wrap over the fleece, I fell back into my slumber with ample wind protection for the rest of the night. The next morning, Tony had a similar account of a north-wind experience, though he denied any shrill screaming on his part. Who knows? In retrospect, I suppose it could have been my own screams that woke me.
On Saturday, I woke to another picturesque day. The weather was amazing! I removed my burrito wrap and quickly put on my body armor before facing the insect hordes. Tony and Walt were still out cold, so I put on a pot of coffee and began digging through the food stash. The seas were much choppier today, so we decided to go on another hike after breakfast instead of paddling.
Trash and treasure littered the shoreline as we walked east along Horn's north shore. Fishing nets, ropes, pier decks, chairs, plastic storage containers, trash cans, office furniture, a pith hat, we even found a sealed 5 gallon water cooler bottle. We topped off our water bottles with some of the fresh water and continued on our way. At the east end of the island there was a large channel buoy blown on shore. We had seen a couple of people anchored east of our camp and maybe 2 boats that attempted to land, but there were several people in powerboats here, a little too crowded for us. After taking a few pictures of a gator that we found in a nearby lagoon, we rounded the east end and headed back west on the south shore. The bloodthirsty flies continued to pursue us despite our sporadic sprinting, screaming, and rolling in the surf. The water did slow the little bastards down a bit so we redirected our path to a sand bar about 30 feet out from the beach. We were able to walk this bar all the way back to The Gap, our crossover to the north shore. It was on this bar that we saw it. First, it was only a shadow in the surf, then it came closer. It was within seconds of seeing the dorsal fin, that the three of us moved back into the ankle-deep waters of the bar. Walter took a crack at catching it with his spinning tackle, but I had some skepticism that he would be able to land a 6-foot shark on 12 pound test line without the aid of a 12 gauge shot gun. Fortunately, the shark had no interest in the top water plug that Walt was using, so we moved on down the shoreline, casting our lines for lesser fish along the way.
Saturday evening brought another beautiful sunset and more hordes of insects as the north wind subsided. This weakening wind was potentially great news for our trip back the next day, but horrible news in terms of insect control. As the day ended and night crept in, the bloodthirsty flies ended their shift and the mosquitoes began their assault. Once again, Tony, Walt, and I threw on the body armor and moved down to the campfire at the water's edge, where the mosquitoes were a little scarcer.
The three of us had not hung out like this in fifteen years. As we sat around the campfire reflecting on how much fun we were having (in spite of the bloodthirsty hordes), we all sat back in our chairs and laughed. Sounds poetic doesn't it? The fact is, we were in tears, not from nostalgia or the great time we were having, but because Walt floated a big nasty south of the border that drifted downwind to Tony. Fifteen years and nothing had changed between us. Here we are, thirty-something year old 'adults', and entertaining ourselves with a bottle of scotch and flatulent humor. You could really feel the love in the air (once you got past the stench).
Sunday morning was time to go home, back to hurricane-torn Pascagoula, back to work, back to the things that make island overnighters so precious. The north wind had subsided considerably over the past 24 hours and the mosquitoes and flies took full advantage of it as we packed our gear and prepared to escape "Insect Island of the damned". The mosquitoes disappeared as the sun lifted above the trees, but the flies were back with healthy appetites for flesh. We loaded the boats and finally escaped the last fly after about an hour of paddling.
Prior to our departure, Tony and I noticed that his dropdown skeg was jammed. This explained why he was having so much trouble with his boat's tracking on Friday. Well' now it was fixed and ready to navigate the 3-foot seas. To our pleasant surprise, that challenge would not take place on our return trip. I suppose after punishing us with the hordes of bloodthirsty insects, fortune decided to shine a little favor our way. Quite the contrary to our 3-foot seas and 10 - 15 kt winds, the seas were glass and the light north wind had shifted to a light southerly offshore breeze to our backs. We were not facing the north wind and choppy seas that we had expected. The return trip was, in fact, as easy as 6 miles by paddle alone can possibly get. Before reaching the ICW, we entertained a pod of about 30 dolphins that took an interest in us. They stuck with us for about 20 minutes and moved on (perhaps Walt had another foul moment of indiscretion upwind of the pod). After crossing the channel, we came upon a large gelatinous blob covered with tiny bait-size fish seeking refuge from predators. I would estimate the diameter was at least 24' across. We took a few photos of the jellyfish and Walter and I decided to break out the fishing tackle. Walt was fishing his top water plug and I was using a spoon. As we approached Round Island, something hit the spoon and made short work of my line. I haven't the slightest idea what it was, but if I had to guess from an angler's perspective, I would say it was a 12-foot shark or barracuda. Anything less would ruin my fisherman's ego. We landed on the east end of Round Island this time, fished a little, took some pictures, fished a little, had some lunch, and set out to finish our island experience. Walter actually caught a nice pompano on the southeast part of the island. We tried for more with no luck, so we headed back in to the mainland.
The current was fairly swift as we approached the Pascagoula River ship channel. We had to push pretty hard to make it around the rocks at the point. As soon as we made it into the harbor, it was an easy float back into Lake Yazoo where we concluded our 3-day journey. We were all a little tired, a little salty, and very pleased to see Therese and Lanee at the launch to welcome us back. Fortunately, Walt's system was clear of flatulence, otherwise I don't expect we would have received much of a greeting or assistance with the gear from our wives.
As I look back on the experience, words simply cannot describe the enjoyment we all three took away from the trip (bloodthirsty black flies and mosquitoes being the exception). It was time to go home now, but we carried with us some of the experiences that Mr. Anderson framed so well in his art and his writing. Walter Anderson's son describes it well, "Within a very brief period on Horn Island, the course of my life changed in a very good way. These changes have stayed with me. They have comforted me and supported me in difficult times. I have often yearned to share them with others. But have come to realize that they were experiential changes that probably cannot be transmitted through words." HORN ISLAND- Beginning at the Vanishing Point, John Anderson
Click below to view the pics (Adobe Reader required). May take a few minutes to load.http://bellsouthpwp.net/d/a/danehart/Horn%20Island.pdf
Pascagoula, MS
Fall 2005
by Danny Hart
In spite of the rumors that the barrier islands were closed, a couple of friends (Tony and Walter) and I couldn't let our 3-day weekend slip by without taking full advantage of the beautiful fall weather. We wanted the experience so many others have talked about, written about, and captured in art. We decided to take our chances with a trip to Horn Island.
Katrina spared no mercy in the small town of Pascagoula. Amidst piles of debris and beautiful homes left in ruins by the storm, we made our way to the vacant antebellum home where Walter's grandfather once lived on Lake Yazoo. The boat ramp and pier were destroyed but we were able to get our boats on the water and gear loaded without much trouble. With high tide approximately one hour before our launch, we had a fairly smooth departure around 9:45 AM. The north wind was to our backs and the outgoing tide moved us quickly across the ship channel and past the homeport on Singing River Island.
The wind and tide continued to be in our favor as we began the first leg of our journey to Round Island. This was Tony and Walter's first experience with an open-water voyage. Tony, an avid bike rider, was in great shape for the trip but began to notice some problems with his Perception Monarch's tracking in the wind and surf. Walter had no trouble adapting his whitewater experience to the open water. With his rental kayak, an Old Town Adventure XL 139, he took to the surf quite nicely. My Prijon Seayak handled like a dream.
As we approached Round Island, the seas continued to build. We decided to land for lunch on the west end so that we would continue our journey on the lee side. The landing was a blast! Walter and I had not surfed together in years so our landing brought back some really great high school memories of our experiences at the stumps on Dauphin Island. After a quick in-and-out landing on the tiny beach, we took a 15-minute breather for lunch and to check in on our wives (Therese and Lanee) at home (just to reassure them that we were in fact still alive and moving along without any problems).
After a quick bite to eat, we launched from the south side of the beach in effort to avoid the rolling shore break. The lee side of the island was indeed more manageable and our journey continued, next stop - Horn Island. About 2 miles south of Round, we found ourselves in 3-foot seas as we approached the ICW. Tony still had trouble with his boat's tracking, resembling the movement of a busted compass needle, and was moving along at a much slower clip than Walter and I. At this point, the seas weren't as much of a concern as the ship traffic in the ICW. We had to get across quickly to avoid the barge that was bearing down on us from the horizon. I doubled back a couple of times to make sure Tony could make it to the southern buoy ahead of the barge's passing. Paddling into the surf on the double back, my forward deck was smothered with breaking waves. I offered some assistance but Tony was pushing himself hard and holding up well. In spite of his boat's poor tracking, he reassured me that he would not need a tow. We all finally made it out of the 'danger' zone and past the southern buoy of the ship channel with time to spare as the tug and it's cargo passed behind us.
We landed on Horn in only mild surf. Once on the beach (at an area known as Waters House Crossing) we staged our camp about 5 miles from the east end. Tony and I grew up and lived in Pascagoula through high school and had never been to the barrier islands. This was our first time seeing the island, not on the horizon but under our feet. The beach was beautiful, the weather was perfect, and the bugs, well, they were everything we expected them to be. We sprayed ourselves thoroughly with skin-charring insect repellant, in hopes that this would somehow deter the rabid black flies from feasting on our flesh, but the effects upon the hordes of them were minimal. We pitched camp, took a short breather, and decided to keep moving in effort to avoid the bloodthirsty flies.
Our hike routed around the one of the lagoons, in an area known as The Gap, crossing a multitude of animal tracks (raccoons, rabbits, and gators among other less-familiars), broken sea shells, and hurricane debris blown in from the storm. We actually found 3 plastic chairs among the debris that proved to be very comfortable later that evening around the camp fire. There was very little live vegetation. Virtually all trees and bushes, though still standing, had turned brown from the high winds and saltwater storm surge. There were also very few bird sightings except for some gulls and one osprey later on in the trip. Although the bloodthirsty flies had not let up completely, their numbers began to subside as we approached the gulf waters on the south side of the island.
The huge beaches on the south side were even more beautiful than the north. We decided to walk west in hopes of catching a nice sunset and maybe seeing a few good sights along the way. About a half-mile into our hike we found a tidal pool full of feeding fish, big feeding fish. Before going any further, we agreed that we needed our fishing tackle so we turned back to camp. Upon our return to the tidal pool we found the fish were still there and still very hungry. I can't recall who caught the first or who caught the largest, but I'm confident enough to go ahead and take full credit for being the most skilled angler that evening (sorry Walt). These were blue fish that we had stumbled upon and they were not picky eaters. Crank baits, spoons, top water, flies, just about everything we threw their way suited their fancy. Hours later, well after sunset, we decided it was time to head back.
With the island turned into a virtual tinderbox, we built the campfire well below the tide line. After a full day of paddling and hiking, dinner around 10:00 pm (followed by a tasty adult beverage) we finally retired to bed. I'm not exactly sure what caused me to wake up from such a deep slumber. Perhaps it was Tony's shrill screams I heard through the heavy north wind. Perhaps it was the fact I could no longer breath comfortably without violently shaking myself awake. Perhaps there had been something in my tasty adult beverage besides scotch. Regardless of the cause, I was awake, very tired, and extremely cold! A cold front made its way through during the night and I quickly learned that a $10 fleece roll, though comfortable in warmer weather, does nothing to protect bare skin from cold wind. I almost felt guilty for recommending it to Tony as suitable bedding for our trip, but I really didn't have time to worry about that at the moment as I proceeded to freeze my better half off in the brutal north wind. Fortunately, my rain fly was just outside and the wind had temporarily swept most of the mosquitoes off to the Land of Oz (key word being 'temporary'). After a quick rain-fly burrito wrap over the fleece, I fell back into my slumber with ample wind protection for the rest of the night. The next morning, Tony had a similar account of a north-wind experience, though he denied any shrill screaming on his part. Who knows? In retrospect, I suppose it could have been my own screams that woke me.
On Saturday, I woke to another picturesque day. The weather was amazing! I removed my burrito wrap and quickly put on my body armor before facing the insect hordes. Tony and Walt were still out cold, so I put on a pot of coffee and began digging through the food stash. The seas were much choppier today, so we decided to go on another hike after breakfast instead of paddling.
Trash and treasure littered the shoreline as we walked east along Horn's north shore. Fishing nets, ropes, pier decks, chairs, plastic storage containers, trash cans, office furniture, a pith hat, we even found a sealed 5 gallon water cooler bottle. We topped off our water bottles with some of the fresh water and continued on our way. At the east end of the island there was a large channel buoy blown on shore. We had seen a couple of people anchored east of our camp and maybe 2 boats that attempted to land, but there were several people in powerboats here, a little too crowded for us. After taking a few pictures of a gator that we found in a nearby lagoon, we rounded the east end and headed back west on the south shore. The bloodthirsty flies continued to pursue us despite our sporadic sprinting, screaming, and rolling in the surf. The water did slow the little bastards down a bit so we redirected our path to a sand bar about 30 feet out from the beach. We were able to walk this bar all the way back to The Gap, our crossover to the north shore. It was on this bar that we saw it. First, it was only a shadow in the surf, then it came closer. It was within seconds of seeing the dorsal fin, that the three of us moved back into the ankle-deep waters of the bar. Walter took a crack at catching it with his spinning tackle, but I had some skepticism that he would be able to land a 6-foot shark on 12 pound test line without the aid of a 12 gauge shot gun. Fortunately, the shark had no interest in the top water plug that Walt was using, so we moved on down the shoreline, casting our lines for lesser fish along the way.
Saturday evening brought another beautiful sunset and more hordes of insects as the north wind subsided. This weakening wind was potentially great news for our trip back the next day, but horrible news in terms of insect control. As the day ended and night crept in, the bloodthirsty flies ended their shift and the mosquitoes began their assault. Once again, Tony, Walt, and I threw on the body armor and moved down to the campfire at the water's edge, where the mosquitoes were a little scarcer.
The three of us had not hung out like this in fifteen years. As we sat around the campfire reflecting on how much fun we were having (in spite of the bloodthirsty hordes), we all sat back in our chairs and laughed. Sounds poetic doesn't it? The fact is, we were in tears, not from nostalgia or the great time we were having, but because Walt floated a big nasty south of the border that drifted downwind to Tony. Fifteen years and nothing had changed between us. Here we are, thirty-something year old 'adults', and entertaining ourselves with a bottle of scotch and flatulent humor. You could really feel the love in the air (once you got past the stench).
Sunday morning was time to go home, back to hurricane-torn Pascagoula, back to work, back to the things that make island overnighters so precious. The north wind had subsided considerably over the past 24 hours and the mosquitoes and flies took full advantage of it as we packed our gear and prepared to escape "Insect Island of the damned". The mosquitoes disappeared as the sun lifted above the trees, but the flies were back with healthy appetites for flesh. We loaded the boats and finally escaped the last fly after about an hour of paddling.
Prior to our departure, Tony and I noticed that his dropdown skeg was jammed. This explained why he was having so much trouble with his boat's tracking on Friday. Well' now it was fixed and ready to navigate the 3-foot seas. To our pleasant surprise, that challenge would not take place on our return trip. I suppose after punishing us with the hordes of bloodthirsty insects, fortune decided to shine a little favor our way. Quite the contrary to our 3-foot seas and 10 - 15 kt winds, the seas were glass and the light north wind had shifted to a light southerly offshore breeze to our backs. We were not facing the north wind and choppy seas that we had expected. The return trip was, in fact, as easy as 6 miles by paddle alone can possibly get. Before reaching the ICW, we entertained a pod of about 30 dolphins that took an interest in us. They stuck with us for about 20 minutes and moved on (perhaps Walt had another foul moment of indiscretion upwind of the pod). After crossing the channel, we came upon a large gelatinous blob covered with tiny bait-size fish seeking refuge from predators. I would estimate the diameter was at least 24' across. We took a few photos of the jellyfish and Walter and I decided to break out the fishing tackle. Walt was fishing his top water plug and I was using a spoon. As we approached Round Island, something hit the spoon and made short work of my line. I haven't the slightest idea what it was, but if I had to guess from an angler's perspective, I would say it was a 12-foot shark or barracuda. Anything less would ruin my fisherman's ego. We landed on the east end of Round Island this time, fished a little, took some pictures, fished a little, had some lunch, and set out to finish our island experience. Walter actually caught a nice pompano on the southeast part of the island. We tried for more with no luck, so we headed back in to the mainland.
The current was fairly swift as we approached the Pascagoula River ship channel. We had to push pretty hard to make it around the rocks at the point. As soon as we made it into the harbor, it was an easy float back into Lake Yazoo where we concluded our 3-day journey. We were all a little tired, a little salty, and very pleased to see Therese and Lanee at the launch to welcome us back. Fortunately, Walt's system was clear of flatulence, otherwise I don't expect we would have received much of a greeting or assistance with the gear from our wives.
As I look back on the experience, words simply cannot describe the enjoyment we all three took away from the trip (bloodthirsty black flies and mosquitoes being the exception). It was time to go home now, but we carried with us some of the experiences that Mr. Anderson framed so well in his art and his writing. Walter Anderson's son describes it well, "Within a very brief period on Horn Island, the course of my life changed in a very good way. These changes have stayed with me. They have comforted me and supported me in difficult times. I have often yearned to share them with others. But have come to realize that they were experiential changes that probably cannot be transmitted through words." HORN ISLAND- Beginning at the Vanishing Point, John Anderson
Click below to view the pics (Adobe Reader required). May take a few minutes to load.http://bellsouthpwp.net/d/a/danehart/Horn%20Island.pdf
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