00:00:05 Speaker 1: Welcome to this country life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living. 00:00:12 Speaker 2: I want you to stay. 00:00:13 Speaker 1: Awhile as I share my experiences and life lessons. This country life is presented by Case Knives on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcast. 00:00:25 Speaker 2: The airwaves have to offer. 00:00:27 Speaker 1: All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some stories to share. Trucks, boats and airplanes. Unexpected results from a planned out and can test your metal. Scheduling those outings back to back can test your stamina. But good or bad, we reap what we sow and we'll never get anywhere standing still. Sometimes, in my eagerness to please everyone and do everything, over extend and don't. 00:01:01 Speaker 2: Really enjoy the opportunities afforded me. 00:01:04 Speaker 1: Now I'm gonna talk about if that's the case today on a recent trip. But first I'm gonna tell you a story. Corey Coleman, a crane operator, native Texan and one of the one thousand, one hundred and nine folks calling Oor City home, sent in this little jewel. He calls the Jasper disaster a Buffalo River story. Now I think Coors, missing his calling running that crane, he ordered to be naming books and movies for a living. He wrote this story pretty good too, and I'm about to turn it loose, so in my voice and Corey's words, here we go. I've been itching to see the Buffalo River ever since I listened to the beargrease that featured it. Something about the wildness, the history, and the raw beauty stuck with me. After eight months of talking with friends and slowly putting together a plan, we were ready the gold float, thirty nine miles through some of the most breath taken terrain any of us had ever seen. Four companies, eight people, a mix of kayaks and canoes. None of us were pros, but we weren't clueless either. When we checked in with the park office, we were told the river was low but floatable, and that sounded perfect, especially for a group with varied experience. We figured slower water mit fewer surprises. By that first night, we set up camp during a lull in a decent storm, and when we woke up the next morning, our first full float day, the river had come up about eight inches, still floatable, still within reason, but a little faster than expected. And we were optimistic, a little more current, a few less shortages, and that optimism lasted about four hours. By the end, we'd only made it about five and a half miles. Our goal had been ten. More concerning two kayaks in a tandem canoe had flipped into rapids. People were okay, but it rattled us with another storm. Forecasting we decided to stop early and set up camp what we thought was safely above the high water mark. 00:03:28 Speaker 2: We were wrong. 00:03:32 Speaker 1: The thunderstorm rolled through, heavy but manageable. We thought we were in the clear and finally drifted off asleep until about three am, when we woke to find our sleeping paths floating. 00:03:44 Speaker 2: In the span of a. 00:03:44 Speaker 1: Couple hours, the Buffalo River had risen nearly ten feet. It was immediate chaos. We knew the boats were gone, no chance. The priority became clear. We were in waste deep water, hauling packs and supplies the higher ground in the One guy didn't even have time to get dressed. 00:04:02 Speaker 2: He was fair and gear in his underwear. 00:04:05 Speaker 1: About thirty minutes, we'd moved a week's worth of cappin supplies for eight people, one heck of us crampled By sunrise, we'd regrouped the while we started affectionately calling Hobo Cam. The early light did a lot from morale, and we took stock of what we had and what we didn't. One gall had gone the whole morning barefoot, no one had dry clothes, and the bullnettle man. We were calling it fireweed. By the end, it earned the name. We knew the Buffalo River Trail was somewhere north of us, so two of us set off to find it. Eventually we made it to Irby and were able to get a shuttle back to retrieve our vehicles, and while waiting at Irby Landing, we met some outfitters who were trying to track down lost rental boats and clients. We weren't the only ones, apparently, who were caught off gold. By the time we hiked back in, our group had already broken down camp and started hauling gear out. Everything was dried out as best as possible. Everyone stepped up, nobody complained. It was a full on team effort to get ourselves out of the woods, literally and figuratively. We holed up at the Gordon Motel in Jasper, Arkansas, to regroup and get cleaned up. At the Ozar Cafe one of our crew spotted a T shirt that read Jasper Disaster, and it felt. 00:05:34 Speaker 2: Like a sign. 00:05:36 Speaker 1: After hot showers and a bit of reflection, no one wanted to quit. We found another camp site and finished the trip the best way we could, and we didn't let the river beat us. In the end, we lost four kayaks, two canoes, all of our fishing gear, and maybe ten percent of our camping supplies, but we came out of it tighter than ever. This was the kind of true that could have broken friendships, but it didn't made them stronger, And according to Corey Coleman of Or City, Texas, that's just how that happened. Well, Corey, I appreciate you sending in your story that's some great lessons and perseverance and adapting to a situation that could have turned dire and making the best of it out of that trial. The bonds with those you care about strengthens. That's one way to know that you're running in the right circle of folks. Thanks for sharing. I have a problem with saying no, I spent a career wanting to be a helper and help folks, but most importantly I was raised to put others before self. I know I can be selfish at times, but it is the flaw of humanity and something righteously work on and struggle with daily. There was only one true selfless person to walk this planet, and he paid the ultimate price for it, which validates Oscar Wilde's saying of no good deed goes unpunished, but saying yes nearly all the time the folks doesn't have to be at the cost of oneself. And while I have on occasion bore the brunt of coming up on the short end of the stick, sometimes sometimes it works to my advantage. And such was a recent trip with my friend John Howard. John's a lifelong resident of our town and served our community and stayed as a firefighter for quite a while. He builds houses now a lot of them, and has a dirt moving operation. He's quite reserved and he doesn't talk a whole lot. His daughter dances with Bailey at the dance studio, and it was through that relationship that my family became friends with their family. And what prompted the invitation to go fishing. Now I know you're thinking, what's the issue. It's fishing and invitation to go fishing. Who wouldn't want to go fishing. Brent, you love fishing. I know all that, But this three day fishing trip was eight and a half hours five hundred and twenty miles away in Venice, Louisiana, which isn't a big deal. I love Venice and the funny talking folks that lived there, aside from their overwhelming infinity and love for that football team I shall not name that they all seem to support down there. The people of Louisiana are my people. I love them all. This U was I needed to get some podcasts and other non fun work related stuff done prior to leaving for a hog hunting in Texas that would start the following day. 00:08:48 Speaker 2: The fishing trip ended. 00:08:51 Speaker 1: Now, that was a hunt with the good folks at Magpool at the sell Mark Ranch, an iron and a half from Dallas near Teague, Texas. 00:09:00 Speaker 2: Y'all, don't start chunking rocks at me. 00:09:01 Speaker 1: Having to coordinate back to back fishing and hunting adventures is a. 00:09:05 Speaker 2: Problem a lot of folks would love to have. 00:09:07 Speaker 1: I'm blessed beyond measure to be where I am, but I have other obligations with this job and my literal outdoor adventures. Compared to my talking about them ways heavier on the sutting behind a computer screen than stomping around out in creation. I write all this stuff I say on here so I can make sense of it to explain exactly what I'm trying to say. 00:09:31 Speaker 2: Now that means I have to type it. 00:09:33 Speaker 1: My typing abilities are only slightly comparable to Edward Scissard Hands, who's probably faster. So I got to work, wrote and recorded two shows ahead of time for my gall river, packed it back, and took off with my friend John for South Louisiana. We skipped breakfast and left later than anticipated, so we stopped in Pine Bluff eat dinner what most everyone else can lunch anyway. After our Google search for fish, we rolled up to the Underwater Seafood on Main Street. It's a family owned concern, turning out some of the best fried catfish I've ever eaten in a restaurant. It was good, The Hush pubbies were good, the Coast Law was good. But what impressed me the most was the man who brought out our food. He stood at the front, greeting people as they came in and visited with what were no doubt regular customers When he came to our table, he sat down our food, and before I could say thank you, he said, bow your heads. 00:10:38 Speaker 2: I was going to do that anyway. 00:10:40 Speaker 1: I do it before every meal, either out loud when requested or to myself, but regardless of where I am. But this is the first time I've ever had a waiter blessed my food and thank. 00:10:52 Speaker 2: Us for coming in. 00:10:53 Speaker 1: I appreciated the effort, and the food was outstanding, and it pretty well set the tone for how the rest of the trip was going to go. Continuing on on our trip, we stopped near Gilsburg, Mississippi, and visited the memorial dedicated to the members of Leonard Skinnert who were killed in the infamous plane crash on October twentieth, nineteen seventy seven. I was eleven when that happened. The band was set to perform in a little rock at Barton called Seeum two days later, and it would be ten years and seven days before the survivors of that tragedy reunited and finished that tour, and me and some friends were there in the audience when they did. We hustled through New Orleans and made it to our destination of Venice, sometime around midnight that night. We weren't fishing until the next afternoon, so we lacked the area of urgency I usually have on these trips. There was no production schedule or deadline. It's just time and the opportunity to see the sites and fishing environment, vastly different from what I normally do. With my friend John, we checked into my friend Renee, crossed the Cypress Cove Lodge. I met Renee when me and a whole host of media and folks were there last October. It was my first experienced fishing on our southern coast and I absolutely loved it. 00:12:23 Speaker 2: Now. 00:12:23 Speaker 1: On that trip, we spent two days fishing inshore for red fishing speckled trout. Offshore was for tuna, and holy cow, was that every exciting water is so clear you could literally see one hundred feet deep. And when I was fortunate enough to hook into one good night nurse, that was a whole lot like work. I wasn't sure who had who, but in the end I put him in a headlock on the back of that boat and got my picture tuk. He wound up feeling the heat of my blackstone grilled back at Cassa day reeves. When that trip was over, Man, what a time. This time we'd be fishing offshore once again, but it would be for red snapper, no trolling for chummed up tuna. We fished with Patrick and his son, Paxton. Patrick is a friend of John's and Paxton. He's a baseball player, just making time until he gets called up to the big leagues. He's filling his hours with elementary school and fishing while he waits. We became friends pretty quick. Paxton and I have a lot in common. We both like playing outside better than sitting on the couch and naps after fishing. They are a welcome activity. The first afternoon, we didn't venture far off the bank, maybe a forty minute ride off shore to an abandoned oil platform. 00:13:43 Speaker 2: We look fanning to me anyway. 00:13:45 Speaker 1: Once we got there, we cut up some frozen fish called poogies. 00:13:50 Speaker 2: The proper name I found out is men Hayden. 00:13:53 Speaker 1: A little did I know as we were cutting up these thin, silver, football shaped, mental looking fishing about the size of a dog dollar bill, that these were of great historical importance. Historians believe that these were the fish that tis quantum, better known as squanto encouraged the pilgrims to plant alongside their seeds as fertilizer after those big brass buck of loving folks started tilling up the gardens back in sixteen twenty. Here I am four hundred and five years later baiting up a hook one thousand, six hundred and fifty miles southwest of Plymouth Rock with the descendants of fish I'd only been anecdotally learning about in school when I was Paxston's age. My education has now come full circle. I have now learned everything. Anyway, we were fishing one hundred and eighty six feet deep. That's so foreign to me. That's like at six first downs plus two yards. In the one hundred and five year history of the NFL, only a handful of kickers have made field goals from beyond that distance. And we were fishing with a sixteen ounce weights that took a while to get to the bottom as they free spooled off thrills above the ways. We had two drop hooks rigged. They were on eight inch leads, and the cut bait was secured with circle hooks that had a point so fine you couldn't see it. Man, those things were sharp. You drop your bait, locking your reel, and wait for a bite, which didn't usually take long. The key to catching them, believe it or not, was not setting the hook. When you got a bite, you were just supposed to commence the reeling and let the fish catch himself. That was harder than reeling in two thirds of football field worth the line, which if you're wondering, equates to one hundred and fifty five thousand and six cranks of a fishing reel, or somewhere thereabouts. We filled the ice chest that afternoon and the next day with more red snapper, amberjack, and the possible record al Macko that John caught that we misidentified as an amberjack that got himself flayed and is now lying in a state of cryogenic suspension waiting to be revived on my blackstone. It was a fantastic trip called lots of fish, made some new friends, ate a lot of good food, and slept very little, three quarters of which would be repeated starting the following Monday. About four hours after I went wheels down at the Dallas Fort Worth Airport that, according to Moe Bandy in nineteen seventy six, was the biggest airport in the world. Now, if you don't know who he is, do yourself a favor and let Google tell you how Moe got his heart broke there. 00:16:42 Speaker 2: Forty nine years ago. 00:16:45 Speaker 1: Anyway, I was meeting up with my colleagues Matt Miller and my boss Garrett Long for a nighttime hog hunt on the previously mentioned ranch guests of magpull and hosted by Kevin Reese and Jeff Hamilton. The majority of the next forty five hours would be spent behind a rifle, either at the range shooting footage and steel targets, or in the field shooting footage and pork chops. The first night I sat in a blind with Dwayne Liptak, a former fighter pilot and Bronze stard with valor to vice recipient for his actions on the ground during the Global War on Terror. Now, we poked holes in a couple of hogs before the sun lit up the other side of the planet, and when it did, we sat in the dark scanning the field for more bacon factories. I was glad the pilot was there. He was going to come in handy when it came time to land the box blind that we were sitting in. After the thunderstorm that blew up pounded us with high winds and big fat rain. 00:17:47 Speaker 2: I just knew it. 00:17:47 Speaker 1: Any minute we were going to be airborne and flying nap of the earth to a yet to be determined new area of operations. Fortunately, the anchors held true and the only thing that got that was us as we abandoned the blind and got in Jeff's truck. The most dangerous part of that night was the ride back to the house with Jeff. Ah, I'm just kidding, Jeff, No, really, I was terrified. I'm not sure Dwayne had a scary flight in Afghanistan. I'm kidding, Jeff, kidding, Jeff, No, I'm not kidding at all. The next day was more of the same, minus the high winds and storming. The rides with Jeff varied from between driving miss days in fast and furious. Much like the hog hunting, long periods of time in the field spent waiting on something to happen. A lesson in patience. All hunters learned to accept this time for relaxation and deep thought and reflection opportunities really to learn more about yourself, and if you're fortunate enough to be spending that time with someone, who volunteered to put his life on the line for his nation in any capacity, an opportunity to learn more why they do that. Now I've seen the same thread through all of them that I come to know in the military and the first responders who outdoors people or not, and regardless of religious affiliation, political beliefs, or ideology about foreign affairs, all held true to a similar idea of others. But for self, it's not hard to recognize the sacrifices that they make, but it's hard sometimes to see the prices that they pay. The folks I had the pleasure of being in the company on both of those trips make me appreciate even more how blessed I am to get to do the things that I do, keep company with the people I get to spend time with, doing things and being in places with people we all find important enough to protect to the last measure. Now that's what makes me say yes to just about everything. I've met some pretty incredible people and shared some incredible adventures because of it. No good deed goes unpunished, No, how about, no great reward comes. 00:20:14 Speaker 2: Without a little sacrifice. 00:20:16 Speaker 1: Just like Corey Cole, our protagonist in the first story in John Dwayne and all the others in the second and everyone listening. We all, at some time in our lives have been or we'll be asked to step up and do something that we didn't plan on or sign up for. 00:20:33 Speaker 2: Or we will volunteer say. 00:20:34 Speaker 1: Yes to an invitation that turns out better for someone else. But life isn't measured in an upset float on the river or a lack of rest on a series of sleepless trips. The measure is the journey from start to finish, and a trip without obstacles, well that just makes for a shorter, more boring riot. Father's Day is next week. In my case, signature Minie Trapper, pocking knife, and the new This Country Life merch is online at the Meat Eater dot com and at the store in downtown Bozeman. For all you folks that may be vacation in the Treasure State, stop buying. See my buddy Alex Zimmerman and his band of Untouchables and they will hook you up. Thanks for listening to us here on the Bear Grease Channel, home of history, science and buffoonery. Until next week. This is Brent Reeves. Sign it off, y'all, be careful,