Harrod's creek

Every year a group of our friends get together for an annual canoeing trip down the Blue River, you'll hear more about that later. But every time we go James rents a kayak and cruises solo for the trip. I had been kayaking several times before and really enjoy it. So after a few years we decided to invest in our own kayaks. 

It was a great investment and over the years that we have had them we have used them quite a bit. We'll often throw them in the back of the truck and head to any number of the local lakes, rivers or creeks and spend a day just paddling around.

One day, while I was at work, I got a call from James and our friend, Bueter. They wanted to go kayaking that night. It was a Friday and I was feeling spontaneous so I said sure. I met them at a restaurant on the edge of the Ohio River, where we left a truck, and drove them out to our put-in point. The put-in was out at a horse farm in Prospect that Bueter often works on when he is in town. The plan was to put the kayaks in Harrod's Creek and kayak the several miles to the mouth of the Ohio, where we would have dinner at the restaurant and load up.

Once we were out at the farm we parked and started the long drag to the creek. It wasn't very far to the edge of the water, but it was a very steep drop and we took longer than we had expected to climb down with three boats and paddles. After slipping and sliding and scratching our way down we reached the water's edge. By this time my legs were burning, and not in an out-of-shape fatass kind of way... in an oh-my-god-my-skin-is-on-fire kind of way. I screeched and scratched and jumped in the water to cool and wash them. Turns out there are plants in Kentucky with oils that make your skin burn, on contact. A fun discovery.

The water was low so we were off with a slow pace, paddling gently to move along. Since the water was below a level where it normally flows we had to pick up and pull the kayaks over a few gravel banks. As we paddled along the pools of water began to get deeper and deeper and we started seeing fish. Not just any fish, BIG fish. Fish so big I thought they would tip the kayak when they swam underneath. They weren't afraid either, you could reach out and tap one with your paddle, and if you were so inclined, you probably could have reached down and wrestled one. Bueter said they were Drums. Look 'em up, I ain't lying. 

A little further and we had to paddle past an uprooted tree with a big ol' copperhead entangled in the roots. Further past that, we passed deer on the side of the creek. the water was getting deeper now. We floated under trees heavy with Blue Heron nests, giant balls of twigs and straw that look heavy enough to break the branches, and apparently they eventually do... the birds move down the creek one tree at a time, leaving their old homes tall, dried out and dead.

We paddled on, now to the point that the water was deep enough that the few houses that backed up to the creek had boat docks. I passed by a deer so close that I could see the dimples in her nose, while she drank from the creek by my boat. She just stared at the strange contraption floating along. 

Eventually we came back to civilization. Condos and apartments lined the banks and docks and boats were aplenty. We waved as we passed the people with motors. This was definitely a longer trip than we  were expecting. The water was deep and swift now and we were just right around the corner from our destination. 

James and Bueter, paddling along.

The only thing we had left to do was to pull the boats up and out of the water to the truck. Here comes the tricky part. The way down was pretty steep, but the way up was even steeper. James stumbled and fell a few times, trying to drag the boats up a hill covered in broken glass and poison ivy. There were stairs right next to the hill... but sometimes you have to let a man be a man... Finally we got the boats out of the water and struggled to the truck. By the time we got to sit at the restaurant we were muddy, sweaty, and starving. It had just turned dark. Deep fried cheese bites and beers were definitely in order.

Moral of the story - if you kayak Harrod's Creek, give yourself a few extra hours and maybe bring a fishing pole and a change of clothes.