Canoeing Hatchett Creek

Day One After breakfast and coffee at George's house, Steve, George, myself, Bob, Mr. "X", and Mad Max & Little John put in at the Short's bridge. This was Mr. "X"'s first trip down the creek. It was an opportunity for us ignorant red necks to note how a person who has achieved the status of Eagle Scout, Col. in the Air force, holder of two Masters degrees, an airplane flight instructor, a SCUBA diver, a martial arts expert, a Ph.D. in physics and a self-proclaimed guru of all other subject matter, would prepare for such an insignificant outing as a float trip down a no-name creek in Coosa County. Mr. "X" rented a 12-foot aluminum canoe from Redstone Arsenal and brought it down on a rented boat trailer behind his Suburban (tying it on top had never occurred to him). His superior intellect and profound experience told him that an aluminum boat was as good as anything that could be used. After all, he was an Eagle Scout and had been offi...

The decision to make this trip was based on looking at the water level and feeling the warm sunshine of a crystal-clear day in February. We put in at US-280 were going to take out at US-231. George was using my Coleman, Steve had his green Coleman, and I was in the famous aluminum Grumman boat. Since the water was cold and the air was cool, I was extra careful not to turn over. We made good time and enjoyed the trip since it was the first time any of us had paddled in the winter. George and I carried extra clothes in our dry bags; Steve didn't plan on getting wet. A stiff wind began to blow up the creek as we paddled through the thin shadows made by the naked trees along the bank. The sun was at its all-time low in the southwest and reflected off the water into our eyes. I remember seeing through squinted eyes the white caps being blown off the choppy water as we pitched through shoals. We all made it with no problems until we got to the halfway point at David Thrash's cab...

Day One Word of a good thing travels fast. Bob and George talked with George’s brother Bill about last year’s trip and it wasn't long before Bill was hunting up a canoe. Mad Max, who grew up in Goodwater but is no relation to anyone in our group, called George one day out of the blue and asked if we had ever been down Hatchett Creek. George told him that we had and that we were planning to go again in a few weeks. Mad Max said he would be there and bring his son, Little John. We all assembled at George's house at 7:00 AM except for Bill, Mad Max and Little John who would meet up with us on day two at Cat Den and start from there. Mary took us to Shorts Bridge pulling our new canoe trailer that George and I built since last year's trip. The trailer would carry seven canoes and was light enough for one man to push around if needed. This addition to our gear sure made the job of hauling canoes easier. George and I loaded into my red Coleman and Steve and Bob went in Ste...

Day One Bob and Gwen Willis had just moved to Montgomery from San Antonio Texas where Bob had retired from a career in the military as a Colonel in the Army. Meg, Stephen and I were visiting Mary and George when Bob and Gwen stopped by on their way to Lineville. I hadn't seen them since I was about 5 years old. My most vivid memories of them came from an 8mm home movie of their wedding and some water-skiing footage taken of them on Lake Martin. I had with me a box full of men's French Shriner shoes of all sizes that sold for $5.00 a pair. Bob, George and I were trying on shoes and talking about no matter how ugly they were, you couldn't pass up a deal like that. The conversation drifted to camping and fishing and it wasn't long before I started telling about how much fun Steve and I had on our 3-day fishing/canoeing/camping trip year. After about two milliseconds of arm-twisting, we were making plans for a trip on the first full moon in April. April came around a...

It was September of 1988 when Meg, Stephen and I drove to Goodwater for the Labor Day weekend. Saturday came with some time to burn so Steve and I decided to take his Coleman down Socapatoy Creek. This was a spur-of-the moment decision, so we grabbed a cooler and some paddles, ferried Steve's Blazer to US-231 and got Steve Jr. to take us to the put in spot on US-280. It has been my experience that spur-of-the moment trips, for the most part, usually turn out surprisingly good. This was a half-day trip and since we had never gone down this creek before there would be new territory to explore. We put in at a place off of US-280 where Baker Creek, a tributary to Socapatoy Creek, was about 12 feet wide. Trees were lying across the water, stretching from one bank to the other, for as far as we could see. The sky was overcast but rain was not expected. We got wet right off the bat at the first tree crossing we came to. After what seemed like an hour of hauling the boat over blow dow...

Day One Lightning flashed as we tied our canoes on top of Steve's Blazer. The weather forecast called for rain all night with clearing skies by morning. The next day the water level was full and slightly stained, and the sky was clear and blue, a perfect day to begin our first three-day canoe/camping trip. George drove Steve and me to the upper bridge at Brownsville where we were attempting, for the first time, to go to Kelly's Crossroad below Rockford, Al. It should take us about three days to get there. We packed clothes and food into zip-lock bags and stuffed them into backpacks that were lashed into the front of our canoes. I was paddling my red Coleman canoe I had purchased used from John Burkhalter. (I had help peal this same canoe off a rock a few years ago after this fellow and his girlfriend pinned it broadside in the Hiawassee River.) Steve was paddling his brand-new green Coleman canoe he had purchased at EDCO in Alexander City, Al. Steve and I had wanted to m...