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East Fork of the Little BuffaloFoggy morning bluff and creek hike on the East Fork of the Little Buffalo
8/31/19
Herein lies the wilderness area that is not a wilderness area...but should be. The watershed of the East Fork is mostly undisturbed, save for the occasional 4-wheeler trail that allows easy access to such that ride these monstrosities of backwoods navigation. This tract of land that lies within the northernmost aspect of the Ozark National Forest, should be protected. It is unique and beautiful. The sounds of off-road vehicles should not echo across these valleys from bluff to bluff...yet they do just that. This is the creek that drains into the Buffalo River from the north, yet most only know of the aspect that flows through the tiny town of Jasper on Hwy 7. The deep hollows here are rugged and filled with awesome loveliness. Should you decide to visit here, please enter at your own risk. On this Saturday morning I did just that. The risk was high. Death was barely averted, and my life was spared on this day. Luckily...I had a manly breakfast at Ihop in Russelleville before arriving here. This, I am sure, is what gave me the strength to endure the proceedings of this adventure.
At 5:00 a.m. with 67°, 100% humidity, still air and fog, the edge of the forest was passed through. Please be advised that this entry was a difficult one. Thick underbrush and abundant shrubbery attempted to thwart my every move. With steadfast perseverance...I continued on. By 6:00 the bluff line of my choosing was before me. Darkness had not yet revealed what lay beyond the precipice. Even as the blackness faded into morning light, the valley to the southwest remained shrouded in fog. This fog endured for well into the morning. It was not until close to 9:00 that the fog began its rise to cloud status. By 9:30 most had made the transition to a higher level of precedence. Sunlight was scattered across the tree tops with an advancing degree of prevalence. This was a lovely occurrence to witness. I savored it with heightened interest. The day that was filled with uncertainty was now gaining promise with each ray of light that reflected off of the vast forest floor. This was observed for a time. I then loaded my expensive gear and moved down the bluff line in search for a break in the rock wall that would allow my movement into the lower elevations. One was located and within minutes...the creek was before me
Recent rains had the stream flowing in an atypical fashion for this time of year. The roar of Jim Bob Johnson Falls just upstream drowned out all other sound. I mounted the bedrock above the falls and ate a lunch composed of the purest ingredients found at my local Walmart. After the respite I moved upstream. The plan was to trace the flow for a goodly distance, but time constraints, instead, led me back up the slope towards the ridge line. At 1:20 and with 77°, my expensive personal transport unit was in view. I disrobed slowly and added fresh, dry clothing that was a joy to experience. My total hike distance was 5.3 miles of pure hell. I was grateful to be alive, man.
