Life With Buddy, a Continuing Saga 05/30/08 Photo Essay - Tuttle Creek

Before I start on this photo journey, you may notice a minimal presence of the Budster, and if so, may I invite you to go to my photo stash here, and trip through a seven picture mini photo story of the Budster and his little friend I put up last night. It's very cute, I think, I'm proud of it, and I think you'll really like it. Hopefully, though, you'll rejoin us here when you are done.

   I am, quite frankly, so mosquito bit, I may be a little light headed from lack of blood, lol. Whereas the day before yesterday, the temp was low enough to keep the little vampires grounded, yesterday they were out in full strength, areosquadrons, dive bombing me like I was Japanese and it was late WWII. We got some great pics, though, and I'd like to share some of North Eastern Kansas's scenery with you today. Most believe the whole state is flat. I'll let you judge for yourself. Just remember, though, if the temp hits seventy in summer, and you're near any water, wear your Deet. Nothing else works on these ghouls. That said, let me introduce you to my world, beyond the three acre rancho, and some of my favorite places here, Buddy's too.

   This is Tuttle Creek Dam, a Corp of Engineers built flood control project of the sixties, that I grew up within ten minutes of, most of my young life. Fishing, swimming, and I even worked here for a while, till a tornado took out my employer's boat rental enterprise.


 


The Lake formed by it is supposed to be close to fifty miles long, and stretches North to close to Blue Rapids, KS. All along it, the water has backed up into creek beds, and formed a plethora of coves that are fish havens. Some of the species of game fish are white bass, channel cat, walleye, crappie, largemouth bass, and for the lovers of the huge, stripers, wipers, and flathead cats. I got so sick of eating crappie filet, when they first opened this lake, I couldn't look at it for years. The old town of Randolph, KS is at the bottom of this lake, relocated now, moved to higher ground, to the site where the new Randolph exists today.



Just to the right of the center here, you can make out the opening to Mcintire Creek Cove, which contains a pretty good sized Marina, at the end of a very steep and curvy road. It's mostly hill on one side, cliff on the other, all the way down, and I, with my old Porsche 356A, and a friend that had an old Triumph sports car, used to road race on that course when I was in high school, after going all the way down, making sure there were no cars, and going back to the top. One day we must have missed a car, and we came flying around a curve, occupying both lanes, to encounter it, which pretty much cured us of the practice from then on. By sheer dumb luck, it was at a point where there was a little pull off room, and we all survived, but not without soiling a little laundry, on all our parts.




Looking a little further North across the lake, you can see the entrance to Carnahan Creek Cove. I've spent a little time there, and all of them, probably, at one time or another, fishing, but as a non-boat owner, we've spent the most time fishing below the dam, where access to the water's edge is a bit easier.





Looking down toward the outlet for the river channel, to the left is some of the river pond area, and the resumed river channel to the right. These are the older brother and my favorite fishing haunts. It is impossible to see the area we are going next, but for context, it is hidden by the trees the river emerges from, here.




This is how the outlets, or as they are referred to around here, the "Tubes" are supposed to work, but the lake is six foot above flood stage, at the moment, soooo.........





Here's a couple pictures of the actuality of things, at least for now.








You wouldn't want to fall in here.




I told you about those mosquitoes, right?, lol.



While we were at the Tubes, I thought for a minute we were being graced by the lake's most patriotic denezins, but I was wrong. These were not the contingent of Bald and Golden eagles that live on the bluffs above the dam, but our old friends, the Turkey Buzzard clan. Head showing, or not, the V arrangement of the wings, and their rocking motions on the wind reveal them for the imposters they are.




Downstream, except for the foam from the Tube's raging waters, It's pretty peaceful, in comparison



We decided to go for a walk over Pfeil Creek, a beautiful spot less than a mile down from the Tubes, but so far removed from their fury, as to be a major counterpoint. Always, this has been one of my favorite areas of the lower river area. This shot is looking across the road from the parking area for the creek, at one of the many beautiful camping areas in the river pond area.



I thought those trees and the mound made a pretty "calendar" picture.



This is the path to Pfeil creek's suspension bridge, a somewhat sway ridden thing, but safe, I suppose. This derelict homeless guy kept getting in the way of my pictures, for some reason, lol.



The Bridge.



The first day, the Budster wasn't too sure about this bridge thing, but the second, he was leading the charge, in typical precocious fashion.




As I said, this is a beautiful little side creek, spring fed (they once tried to stock it's headwaters with rainbow trout, I think, and if you know anything about those guys, water quality is vital), and if the river wasn't backing up into it, even more crystal clear than this shows.



We have witnessed, once when I was here with Dad, several four or five foot walleye, I assume looking for spawning areas in this creek, but of course, if you can see them, they can see you, and all efforts to entice them to go home to our freezer were in vain. Today there are no inhabitants visible. The further back toward the river you go, the murkier the water.



Looking upstream again



Grandma, in mosquito discouraging garb, and the Budster, who figured she wasn't so bad, for the moment, if she was taking him for a walk in the woods, coexisted nicely, for a change.
 


The path, once you cross the bridge, reveals, to the right, an impromtu ball field, at least it's mowed, and there's a backstop. Laying out of diamonds, selection of rocks for bases, etc, is entirely up to your party's imagination, but I suspect that's no challenge to most campers. Going on past that, the path leads down to a very well kept up shelter house, and a choice camping area, unless you've got a lot of kids along. More on that later. There's that derelict again, lol.



Beyond that, the river. Buddy must be grown up, or smarter, he wouldn't even get close to that dangerous current. About those kids, though.......


The other side of the mouth of the Creek, complete with constantly present fishermen. Choice spot.



I was shooting the other side of the riverbank, when something caught my eye. Can you see it here?



Now do you see it?



Blue heron, hard to come by anyplace else around here, seem to thrive in the riverpond, and beyond that, lower river areas. It's hard not to run into them, in point of fact. One more shot, but more on these guys tomorrow.



Off to the right of this area, is a wooded path, and the Budster being the Budster, I had no choice but to follow.


Along the way, there are various game trails leading down to the river.



The path meanders along seemingly endlessly, and it's really a nice walk in the woods, but it goes way beyond our curiousity, today. My brother tells me there is a cement path for walkers on the other river bank that goes clear down to tomorrows destination, more than a couple miles downstream, anyway.




Along our path, at a few spots, there are one or two access points big enough for human approach to the water.



Just big enough for a fisherman or two to get their line wet. I'd be surprised, actually, if my brother wasn't down there right now, after our discovery of this path yesterday. He's the big derelict that kept wandering into those photos, lol.



Now about those kids making this a less than desireable camping spot.... Anyone that has a little wood smarts knows what three points means, and these are some of the healthiest poison ivy stands I think I've ever encountered.



All unmowed areas are veritably overflowing with the stuff, and those vines on the trees aren't grapes, I can tell you that.



This is not a small tree, and that biggest ivy vine, carrying the vile thing up to sunnier climes, is about two inches or a little better in diameter.




In essence, the woods are lovely, dark and deep, but don't go off the path here, or you're going to be one itcy, itchy camper......



Well, this is just the start of a few feature photo ops of places we find calming and beautiful, around our neck of the woods. Tomorrow we'll take you a little further down the river, to a place called Rocky Ford. There is a very old abandoned electric plant there, with a waterfall, and we'll be seeing "moe better" herons, and, believe it or not, a few guys more common to ocean areas. Till then, Ron & Buddy.

Link to updated Ron & Buddy materials. They're all in here, from the beginning, sagas, poems, etc. All about the Budster, in many varied and interesting reflections... or whatever they're calling rants, in polite circles, these days.

Link to all poetry by Ron W. on Gather

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