CADDO LAKE: EAST TEXAS OCTOBER 2011

I seem to end up spending a lot of my weekends with boy scouts … not by choice, really (although they seem to be a good group of kids), we just seem to have the same hangouts. October is when you get some of your best camping weather in Texas. So, when we headed out that first weekend in October to camp at Caddo Lake State Park in East Texas, I fully expected to find a mobbed campground. Happily, I was mistaken.

William and I left work a little early that Friday to pack up Pumba, the car and the eighteen-foot tandem Ocean Kayak, and drive the three hours to get to the park before headquarters was scheduled to close (five pm). The park is located less than an hour due east of Shreveport, Louisiana, but still in Texas. It is on the banks of Caddo Lake, the largest naturally formed lake in the south, half of which is in Texas and the other half in Louisiana. Named after the Caddo Indians, the lake is now guarded by thousands of cypress trees bearded in Spanish moss (which is actually not Spanish at all, but actually very much a native plant species). It is one of only 22 wetlands recognized by the Ramsar Convention as a “wetland of international significance”. Whether they consider it “significant” because it is home to over twenty animal species of concern and two that are on the Endangered Species list (the black bear and the alligator snapping turtle – we didn’t see either) or because the area contains one of the highest quality old-growth bottomland hardwood forests or because of its unique historical significance (more to come), I don’t know. But from the moment we passed through the gates, the place had me.

The narrow winding roads of the state park reminded me of Tyler State Park, also in the Piney Woods region of east Texas. As soon as we got down near the lakefront, though, it was like nothing I had ever seen. Tall bald cypress trees, some thought to be about 400 years old, stretched from the door of our tent way out into the bayou, each one draped in grey-green Spanish moss, giving the place an ancient and mysterious aura. We were lucky enough to snatch up campsite 65, which the ranger assured me was their “premier site”. I agree. Despite the fact that the lake was about five feet below its usual water level at this time of year (Texas is experiencing its worst drought in history), we were still right on the shore of Saw Mill Pond, close enough to hear the chorus of frogs and crickets in the evening. Site 60, at the end of the roundabout, has more privacy but is not waterfront and is closer to the highway with all its noise.

We drove around getting the lay of the campground. There are tons of RV sites, quite a few screened in shelters and a handful of very cozy-looking cabins (no pets allowed in the cabins, though). We drove over to check out the park’s boat ramp and make sure it wasn’t too shallow or too muddy for launching the kayak the next day. Although dusk was settling in, there were still several families trying their luck at fishing from the shore. Not wanting to put up our tent in the dark, we headed back to set up our campsite and cook up a dinner of Mary Jane’s Farm organic dehydrated camping food (there is a burn ban in effect throughout most, if not all of Texas, so no fires really cuts down on menu options). The burn ban got me thinking about the drought again. On the drive over from DFW (Dallas, Fort Worth), every third tree along the highway was dead. The grass was dried out and crispy. I had heard about how the hay farmers and the vineyards were suffering, having to harvest what they could salvage of their crops early. This pushed prices up, making it harder for ranchers to feed their cattle, thus making a Texas steak and wine dinner too expensive for my thinned out wallet, again bringing us back to the dinner of dehydrated lentils at hand. It would do.

Have you ever heard an alligator bark? Neither had Pumba! It woke her early and she kept nervously glancing out the screen of the tent. At the sound of gunshots (I think squirrel season was open and there was hunting allowed in the national reserve neighboring this little state park), a great big blue heron was spooked and came squawking and swooping his great big wings out of the foggy marshlands. That was quite enough for Pumba who, with nervous whines, refused to let me continue my slumber in my warm sleeping bag.

The morning was in the 50s (during the day it would get up into the 80s), which motivated us to get moving and hit the trails early. The park’s interpretive trail is barely a mile long, but you can branch off onto a less developed path through the woods and up into the piney hardwood forests that are farther back, away from the lake. We did not come across any wildlife other than a few woodpeckers and cardinals (and squirrels desperately escaping the hunters next door), but the environment itself was beautiful. As with most of the state parks in Texas, this one’s structures were built during the Great Depression by members of the Civilian Conservation Corps who were proud to have something to contribute and, for $30 a month, built us these places we enjoy to this day (like the stone and timber pavilion here).

Caddo Lake State Park

Find trail maps for Texas
 An hour later we were back at camp packing up some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and filling our water bottles for a trip out in the kayak. Pumba learned to sit and balance on a kayak at a young age, but I was glad she had been practicing over the summer, as I definitely did not want to flip over into this muddy, marshy, alligator-infested water! We paddled up Big Cypress Bayou admiring some of the lake homes on the eastern shore, many of them up on stilts with decks overlooking the bayou and the woods beyond, pretty much every one of them with a dock or a boat ramp. After passing Big Pine Lodge (a fun place for dinner if you don’t have a pet in tow), we turned north up a narrow channel marked with posts with the letter “C”. It soon got too shallow for the motorized fishing boats, but we were able to eke through on the kayak. Traveling up the channel, we came into more and more duckweed until we were covered in the miniscule green vegetation. We also saw more evidence of beaver (the bases of the cypress trees were chewed up) and began to see more ducks, egrets, heron, even some ibis and two red-shouldered hawks. We passed the junction with the “S” channel and entered Carter Lake before deciding to turn around as Pumba was getting hot, thirsty and fidgety. Back on the Big Cypress Bayou we came across a group of kayakers who asked if we had done the full loop. Loop? What loop? They showed us on their map how you can go up “C”, back down “S” to Smiths Slough and end up at the Riverbend  Lodge (another good dinner spot) back on the Big Cypress Bayou. They had done this for several years but were not sure if maybe this year the lake was too dried out and shallow. Given that, their backup plan was to go up “C” and check out the south shore of Goat Island where they had heard the alligators were congregating. Well, we would just have to get our own map and look into this all a little more!

Back at camp, we showered to get some of the duckweed and muck off and then headed into the nearby town of Uncertain, TX for a tour of the bayous on the “Swamp Thing”. It’s a funny little town with a population somewhere between 150 and 195 characters (they are “uncertain” of the exact number, haha) most of whom attend the Church of Uncertain (come on, that’s funny) and make their living off of the tourists who come through.

Pumba wagged her tail and behaved beautifully on the leash, convincing Captain Johnny Fletcher that she could be trusted on his custom designed electric paddlewheel boat. We climbed aboard with a group of about 13 women who had rented a cottage together on the nearby Taylor Island. As it turns out, Taylor Island was named after Ladybird Johnson’s father, and she spent many a day in their home here and exploring Caddo Lake. Now this tiny place offers several cottages for tourists and visitors.

Back in those days, Taylor Island and all of Harrison County were “dry” (alcoholic beverages could not be sold or purchased). So, thirsty residents would pay a nickel for a water taxi just across the channel to Marion County, which was certainly “wet”. There were “tea rooms” like Dick and Charlie’s that fronted for brothels, gaming lounges and bars. The reason why any of these little towns were there to begin with is a fascinating and unique part of the history of this region. In the early 1800s a series of log jams across the Red River caused water to back up over several decades. Caddo Lake was thus born from the swollen river and the old bayous. By the 1830s there was a pretty steady stream of ferries from New Orleans way up to Caddo Lake and beyond to the town of Jefferson, TX. Despite this town’s being so far inland (about 290 miles), between 1830 and 1870, it was the state’s second largest port (after Galveston)! In 1873, the Army Corps of Engineers blew up the “Great Raft” (the natural log jam dam) hoping to improve navigation from New Orleans up into Texas. Of course, during the next few years, the waterways would dry up and it would become too shallow for the steamboats to maneuver up into the lake. This is when the cypress trees took root and there was a brief craze for fresh water pearls when huge mussel beds were discovered in the now shallow waters.

Jefferson’s population dropped along with the water level, and the local economy, historically fed by the steamboat traffic, dried out. The steamboat companies financed the beginnings of a massive dredging project. After a few years, when they had run out of money, the federal government chipped in, digging a 12 to 15-foot deep channel way up to the Big Cypress Bayou, all by hand. One hundred and fifty men died in this endeavor from yellow fever, snake bites and heart attacks. By the time it was finished, the railroads crisscrossed the western frontier and no one used steam boats anymore. “Government Ditch” remains.

By then oil had been discovered under the waters of the lake. It didn’t take long for oil platforms and off-shore drilling to be invented. Under pressure from the oil companies to make waters deep enough for their barges and oil rigs to get through, the government rebuilt the dam that they had years earlier blown up (in this conservative, republican part of the country, they love telling that part of the story), this time farther downstream in Louisiana. By the 1950s the ebb and flow of the lake was completely controlled by manmade reservoirs and dams.

By the 1990s the biggest thing going on in this neck of the woods was the Bigfoot sightings. Yep! So many, in fact, that the Discovery Channel sent a crew down to check it all out. Bigfoot went into hiding. Nowadays the lake is again a fantastic habitat for fish, birds, reptiles and mammals (maybe Bigfoot included). Current challenges are the invasive, non-native plant species like the water hyacinths and salvinia (which the government is now battling with weevils – really!- we saw them in the facility in the national park). Anyway, despite Captain Johnny’s insistence that the best tour to take with him is the 10am in the spring and early summer, we thoroughly enjoyed this fall outing.

The next morning we were woken before the break of day by the thundering diesel engine of our neighbors’ truck. They were hunters wanting to get an early start. I am actually somewhat grateful to them, I suppose – despite their ruining the peace and quiet of the place, they got us off to an early start as well. We took a quick walk down to the fishing pier to take in the morning fog that moaned and crept its way through the drooping moss and the silent trees across the pond. Perfect for kayaking!

This time armed with our own waterproof map of the lake (from Fyffe’s Corner Grocery just outside the park), we decided to try the loop. We paddled and paddled our way up the Big Cypress Bayou all the way to Smiths Slough. A little ways up the channel we caught sight of a couple of unabashed beaver that came within three metres of us! A little farther up this quiet, narrow channel were two rather large fallen trees, blocking our way. No longer having the energy or the willpower to hoist the kayak up on land and around the obstacles, we shrugged our shoulders and turned around. It had been a fun outing, anyway. Three hours after we had set out we were back at camp, packing it up to go check out the 7500-acre national reserve next door.

This reserve was just taken over by the US Fish and Wildlife Service from the Department of Defense in late 2000 (and just opened to the public in 2010), so they are still working on cleaning out old buildings and structures, while completing their nine miles of hiking/equestrian trails.  We walked these a bit, but not much, since bow and arrow season had just opened the day before and, being that Pumba is a chocolate lab, I was worried she might be mistaken for a deer (I know, I know I am probably exaggerating). We did go to the visitor center to speak with the volunteers there and check out the Center for Invasive Species Eradication (remember the weevils?) before heading out to get a quick feel for the place on the six mile Auto Tour Route. Besides these paved roads, there are many secondary roads that remain as well, leaving about 50 miles of road with few to no cars to enjoy on a bike. The Auto Tour does take you down to the lakeshore and a boat ramp at one point. Although the water level was too low for us to get our kayak in from here, this spot did provide a fantastic view of the lake, full of huge American lotus and smaller water hyacinths.

We bid farewell to Caddo Lake and headed northwest to the historic town of Jefferson about twenty minutes away. Along the back roads there was evidence of one of the many wildfires suffered in Texas this summer. Scorched earth and trees came within two metres of farmhouses and corrals! Jefferson itself is a fantastic and unique town, totally worth any time it may have added to our trip back to DFW. As I mentioned before, it’s where the ferries used to come in from NoLa. As such, many of the homes and bed and breakfasts have that plantation house air to them – big, wide front porches, and second story balconies with curvy wrought-iron banisters. Yet the downtown was very old-school Texas town – a solid wall of brick divided up into boutique and antique stores (that were probably once the bank and the country store), each with their different cut-out pattern on the roof, the red bricks contrasting sharply with that big blue country sky. It is its own blend of old southern influences. In its heyday it had a population of over 25,000 people. Its population now is closer to 2500. Although, the second weekend of October they host a motorcycle rally as a charity fundraiser (that explained the dozens of bikes we had seen in the area who had apparently arrived early). On that weekend, their population bounces back closer to the numbers of the good ole days. 

Newly energized with some fudge from one of the antique stores, we made our way back home. West. Into the setting sun. Like an old Clint Eastwood movie. Good night, Texas!