 The morning started cold as we launched from the cypress shadows of Wachesaw Landing, but the sun warmed us up as soon as we hit the big open water of the river. I had two groups this fine mid-March day for a Sandy Island trip—a family of four from Greenville, and a couple down here vacationing from P.A.—pleasant and curious and wonderful people, all.
Spring showed itself in the greening buds, and the swamp azalea pinking the banks, and the great blue herons nesting in their rookery high in the canopy. A shrieking osprey swooped down and caught a fish, as if giving us the Nat Geo special. In the back creeks, a few songbirds flittered, and the wild rice, still golden, swayed in a cool breeze. On our walk on the island, we saw pig and deer tracks, the pitcher plants just beginning to green a little for spring. Vireos and cardinals and chickadees punctuated the day with their songs, and on the way back, I found a handsome wild turkey feather in the river. We made our way through the little secret path in the grass and paddled in the open air on the big water back home, quietly and reverently at first, then chatting away like old friends. What a time, as they say, to be alive.
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 The brothers John (a philosophy professor) and James (a retired English professor)—my tribe!—brought their families for a two-hour tour that had us launching just as the heavy fog lifted like a veil on the river, and the day showed its gorgeous face. Three osprey cross-stitched the blue sky, and above them, five turkey buzzards. I was reminded of a line in John Graves’ paddling book Goodbye to a River: “A sky without buzzards seems empty to me.”
The kids were full of energy and inquisitiveness, and as we made our way through the rice canal, I heard a wild pig grunt in the wild rice and take off through the mud. Sadly, no reptiles today other than the sunning turtles, but we timed the tide perfectly, paddling up White Creek just as the tide was beginning to ebb, and the current offered little to no resistance. The landscape still had not burst into spring’s greens just yet, but we saw a pair of herons in their rookery when we got back to the big water, where we rode the outgoing tide over the waves of a boat wake, and then right on time to the landing. The conversation was, as to be expected, literary and philosophical, and I was delighted when the whole family burst out into an impromptu song about their dried mango snacks. Good folks, good weather, good water...great day. |
AuthorHastings Hensel Archives
May 2026
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