Another Wasted Saturday

I set out Saturday for the third weekend in a row looking for some fabulous fall foliage. I failed. In the hope that the leaves down south were still in peak form, I headed down to the Cossatot Falls State Park. As I headed down I-540, I could see the leaves in Northwest Arkansas were about done. I was hoping the foliage would get better the farther south I traveled on Highway 71. I was disappointed. Plus, the area I went to might not be the best for fall color anyway. The area is mostly timber company land planted in pine trees. The little swirly parts in the photo become raging whitewater holes when the river comes blasting through after heavy rains. The river is typically low in the fall. On Saturday, you could have easily waded across without a problem. Cossatot is supposedly an Indian word that means skull crusher. They say this is the most challenging whitewater in Arkansas.

When I was growing up in Texarkana, we used to go up to the falls and swim in the summer. That was way before it was a state park. The holes are body surfable when the water is low. One in particular — it might be the infamous Washing Machine, I don’t really know — has a channel that flows crossways and a scoop at the end that will throw you downstream. (After looking at some pics on the Web, I think the photo above is the Washing Machine.) One time I was swimming there with my Dad (and maybe a friend of mine, I can’t really remember). The water was a touch higher than optimum and I came washing down and made the scoop and the water pinned me to the bottom for a little bit. It kinda scared the crap out of me as I recall. My cousin Dale is a kayaker and he told me that one time he flipped in one of the holes and water pinned him down so good he had to scoot along on his back on the bottom until he washed out.

This whole area is one giant fantastic rock formation from the water action.

I finally located the leaves on my hike back to the truck.

Before I hit the falls, I went over to the visitor center at the Highway 278 bridge. There’s an old low-water bridge below the big highway bridge. I hadn’t been to this spot in probably 20 years. The visitor center wasn’t there then and the road down to the river bed wasn’t nearly as smooth as it is now. The area is full of picnic tables and charcoal grills. You probably even have to pay to camp there now. The old road that went down the river bank was blocked off and turned into a hiking trail.

When I was 15 or 16, my Dad and a couple uncles and a few cousins set off on a float trip in john boats from the Highway 246 bridge down to the Highway 278 (it was state Highway 4 then). The river was a lot higher than we realized. I remember going over the Ed Banks low-water bridge without even noticing and my uncle saying in surprise, “That’s the Ed Banks Bridge.” We beat those boats all to hell. And we skipped the falls section. The sign in the photo made me laugh because there used to be a rope swing in one of the cottonwood trees on the bank. Maybe even the one in the background of the photo.

It wasn’t really a wasted Saturday.