(All pics are work safe. I spoilered them for ease of thread viewing and loading)
I arrived at Caddo Lake at about 11 a.m. on Saturday and spent the next couple days exploring. The state park sucks, and consists of some campsites and a couple boat ramps. And lots of pasty white people. Fortunately it's only $2 per adult to enter, and dogs are free. I was there for about 15 minutes, just long enough to drive in, look around, sigh, and drive back out. Minimal investment, minimal loss.
To really get to know the lake you need to keep an eye out for side roads. Forays off the main thoroughfares can be pretty interesting. This process takes a long time though when you're talking about a 35,000 acre swamp, and can be a bit unnerving as you pass some of the most snaggle-toothed yokels on earth, all of whom will silently watch every move you make for as long as they can see you.
At one point down a several mile long winding road I got out of the car in the middle of a quaint bayou hamlet (read: collection of rotting wooden shacks and mobile homes) to reconnoiter and found myself surrounded by several menacing dogs. German shepherds and some other less identifiable mutts. All uncollared and untagged and circling as if trying to flank me, which I'm sure they were. No wagging tails, no curious body language. Just downright rude. I backpedaled to the car and fetched my machete (a brush clearer - half machete and half axe; a nasty medieval looking curved thing) and as soon as I did so a woman appeared from a shack a hundred yards away and sooeed the dogs off of me. I kid you not, she had some sort of throaty bayou dog call that done runned 'em off. After that little episode I was pretty eager to skidaddle before people started trying to fuck my mouth or broil my back fat. Movies really don't do these places justice.
Before I left I snapped a pic of what would have probably been a pretty kick ass drinking pavilion back in its heyday.
The cypress bayous on the western (Texas) end of the lake are incredibly scenic. It is far and away one of the most beautiful places I've ever been and I now fully understand why Don Henley has a hardon for this place. You need to get out in it to really appreciate it though, either in waders or by boat for the deeper portions. Since it averages almost 9 feet deep, a boat is your best bet. Plus the idea of an alligator taking a chunk out of me as I blunder through duckweed is less than appealing.
It is, without a doubt, a dangerous place. Eagle scouts with GPS have been plucked from the water by rescue boats on many occasions, and if you get turned around somewhere out in the 27,000 acres of dense cypress mazes you will probably spend the night as a scared shitless mosquito buffet. Or worse.
The ants here are an inch long, the spiders have coconuts for abdomens, the alligators can reach a dozen feet or more, and I've already mentioned the creepy motherfucking people. I can only imagine what the snakes look like.
There's water in them thar bayous, you just can't see it sometimes. And it's about 2 feet deep right here. I waded out in my shorts about 40 yards before I lost my nerve. I think I heard the distant guffaws of a dozen hillbillies when I turned back to the dry safety of the nutria mound that was the headquarters of my swamp ops for a few hours.
The shit that chokes this place. I felt like Luke Skywalker in the trash chute the entire time I was in the water. I swear to God shit was brushing against my legs and I can't believe I made it out without any fleshy tendrils pulling me under.
The shit that chokes the above-water portions. Spanish moss. Beautiful stuff, but pushing through drapes of it hour after hour gets old after a while. Eventually you develop a terminal case of Somethinglargeiscrawlingthroughmyfuckinghairitis.
Deeper here, and time for a boat. Waist or chest deep in the suck is not my idea of a good time.
Nice open channel. Quiet, peaceful, calm water. Ripe for fishing. Caddo is home to over 70 species and it was time to kill a few.
What the fuck was that? Is there a train coming? Am I fishing on submerged tracks?
Nope, just a bunch of assholes blasting the shit out of my serenity with their industrial strength steam factory whistle.
They wave as they go by as if to say "Haha! We just blasted the shit out of your serenity with a massive fucking steam whistle! Oh and enjoy the huge wake, too!"
Yep, I had managed to pick a prime fishing spot in the middle of a narrow boating channel.
My retirement home. I purchased it for a handful of toothpicks and half a catfish head I found floating in the current.
A hillbilly nightclub.
This place was hopping. There were at least 4 or 5 people there at any given time. I smoked a cigar on the huge, rotting deck out back, which extends out over the water on pile-ons. For as back asswards as this place may be, it was the single most relaxing evening I've had in about a year. Staring out over the water, shitty beer and cheap cigar in hand, with the faint strains of country music drifting out from the bar window. I don't even like country music. Goddamn that was nice though.
The bar window, with the water behind me.
Worn the fuck out.
The prior water line is noticeably visible in those weed-carpeted bayou pics, too. There had been a lot of flooding in recent weeks. The boat ramps at the parks were all still closed while I was there, though as you can see the water was a good 2 feet lower than it had been.
Air temperature was cool all day Saturday as it rained throughout the day and into Sunday afternoon. Warmed up considerably on Sunday afternoon when the sun came out a couple hours before I left. 80s-90s when that happened. And, as you can probably imagine, humid as a yokel's armpit.
I arrived at Caddo Lake at about 11 a.m. on Saturday and spent the next couple days exploring. The state park sucks, and consists of some campsites and a couple boat ramps. And lots of pasty white people. Fortunately it's only $2 per adult to enter, and dogs are free. I was there for about 15 minutes, just long enough to drive in, look around, sigh, and drive back out. Minimal investment, minimal loss.
To really get to know the lake you need to keep an eye out for side roads. Forays off the main thoroughfares can be pretty interesting. This process takes a long time though when you're talking about a 35,000 acre swamp, and can be a bit unnerving as you pass some of the most snaggle-toothed yokels on earth, all of whom will silently watch every move you make for as long as they can see you.
At one point down a several mile long winding road I got out of the car in the middle of a quaint bayou hamlet (read: collection of rotting wooden shacks and mobile homes) to reconnoiter and found myself surrounded by several menacing dogs. German shepherds and some other less identifiable mutts. All uncollared and untagged and circling as if trying to flank me, which I'm sure they were. No wagging tails, no curious body language. Just downright rude. I backpedaled to the car and fetched my machete (a brush clearer - half machete and half axe; a nasty medieval looking curved thing) and as soon as I did so a woman appeared from a shack a hundred yards away and sooeed the dogs off of me. I kid you not, she had some sort of throaty bayou dog call that done runned 'em off. After that little episode I was pretty eager to skidaddle before people started trying to fuck my mouth or broil my back fat. Movies really don't do these places justice.
Before I left I snapped a pic of what would have probably been a pretty kick ass drinking pavilion back in its heyday.
The cypress bayous on the western (Texas) end of the lake are incredibly scenic. It is far and away one of the most beautiful places I've ever been and I now fully understand why Don Henley has a hardon for this place. You need to get out in it to really appreciate it though, either in waders or by boat for the deeper portions. Since it averages almost 9 feet deep, a boat is your best bet. Plus the idea of an alligator taking a chunk out of me as I blunder through duckweed is less than appealing.
It is, without a doubt, a dangerous place. Eagle scouts with GPS have been plucked from the water by rescue boats on many occasions, and if you get turned around somewhere out in the 27,000 acres of dense cypress mazes you will probably spend the night as a scared shitless mosquito buffet. Or worse.
The ants here are an inch long, the spiders have coconuts for abdomens, the alligators can reach a dozen feet or more, and I've already mentioned the creepy motherfucking people. I can only imagine what the snakes look like.
There's water in them thar bayous, you just can't see it sometimes. And it's about 2 feet deep right here. I waded out in my shorts about 40 yards before I lost my nerve. I think I heard the distant guffaws of a dozen hillbillies when I turned back to the dry safety of the nutria mound that was the headquarters of my swamp ops for a few hours.
The shit that chokes this place. I felt like Luke Skywalker in the trash chute the entire time I was in the water. I swear to God shit was brushing against my legs and I can't believe I made it out without any fleshy tendrils pulling me under.
The shit that chokes the above-water portions. Spanish moss. Beautiful stuff, but pushing through drapes of it hour after hour gets old after a while. Eventually you develop a terminal case of Somethinglargeiscrawlingthroughmyfuckinghairitis.
Deeper here, and time for a boat. Waist or chest deep in the suck is not my idea of a good time.
Nice open channel. Quiet, peaceful, calm water. Ripe for fishing. Caddo is home to over 70 species and it was time to kill a few.
What the fuck was that? Is there a train coming? Am I fishing on submerged tracks?
Nope, just a bunch of assholes blasting the shit out of my serenity with their industrial strength steam factory whistle.
They wave as they go by as if to say "Haha! We just blasted the shit out of your serenity with a massive fucking steam whistle! Oh and enjoy the huge wake, too!"
Yep, I had managed to pick a prime fishing spot in the middle of a narrow boating channel.
My retirement home. I purchased it for a handful of toothpicks and half a catfish head I found floating in the current.
A hillbilly nightclub.
This place was hopping. There were at least 4 or 5 people there at any given time. I smoked a cigar on the huge, rotting deck out back, which extends out over the water on pile-ons. For as back asswards as this place may be, it was the single most relaxing evening I've had in about a year. Staring out over the water, shitty beer and cheap cigar in hand, with the faint strains of country music drifting out from the bar window. I don't even like country music. Goddamn that was nice though.
The bar window, with the water behind me.
Worn the fuck out.
The prior water line is noticeably visible in those weed-carpeted bayou pics, too. There had been a lot of flooding in recent weeks. The boat ramps at the parks were all still closed while I was there, though as you can see the water was a good 2 feet lower than it had been.
Air temperature was cool all day Saturday as it rained throughout the day and into Sunday afternoon. Warmed up considerably on Sunday afternoon when the sun came out a couple hours before I left. 80s-90s when that happened. And, as you can probably imagine, humid as a yokel's armpit.
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