By Brian Wilcox, Interpretive Resource Specialist with the Missouri Department of Natural Resources

Being a classic “curious” naturalist I wanted to experience this part of the river. Maybe due to the state parks that would sandwich this float and knowing the intense restored areas that played the crème filling in between, would lure me here.

As a naturalist one has to have the “eye of the gnat” to closely examine your world around you. Here the river is wide and slow giving oneself plenty of time to perceive the riverine habitat. What first stood out were the large clumps of blooming hibiscus called Rose Mallow. Growing four to five feet tall with showy flowers of pink with dark wine-purple bases, they would catch the eye of any human.

But what makes me rejoice about this adventure is seeing the physical existence of a river corridor. This “greenway” that borders both sides of the coursing aquatic artery protects and enhances all life within the river and within the corridor. Trees such as sycamore, river birch, black willow, box elder, white ash and hackberry were documented. Mother Earth can heal herself if given the chance along with wise management. This section shows great potential for quality mesic bottomland forest communities.

We stopped for lunch at a spring-fed creek confluence named “Hamilton”. It originates up in the hills around an area known as Rockwoods Reservation. As we floated on, red polistes wasps were seen alighting on the water careful not to break the surface tension to drink. Birds like the yellow-billed cuckoo, great blue heron, little blue heron, green heron, osprey, indigo bunting, prothonotary warbler, american crow and the bald eagle were either heard or observed.

We made our way down stream to an area, which historically thousand of St. Louisans flocked for weekends of swimming, and canoeing at Sherman beach by way of the railroad. Across from here in what seems an old river channel, abundantly hosted several species of young freshwater mussels ranging from one to four years old. Older mature individuals were also found and all were shown to the adventuring group. Finding recruitment’s (immature mussels) tell the success story of healthy female mussels discovering healthy males. This river is highly diverse when it comes to this life form even though they are the most endangered animal on this planet.

This day’s journey ended calm and peaceful with a presentation given by my good colleague and friend Don Fink, state park resource manager. His story of the challenges in managing these popular recreation sites seems ever evolving in its own right. However, after this day any adventurer can obviously see how this river’s web is carefully weaved…dependence upon one another.

Shooting the Meramec by Jim Karpowitz, videographer, The Documentary Group

I was delighted to begin work with my colleague John Baker on a new video concerning the Meramec for the Open Space Council. The first portion of our assignment: to video tape the August Media Float from Meramec State Park to the City of Arnold. Of course I vaguely remembered the Meramec from my childhood growing up in St. Louis. Since then many rivers have flowed though my life: Ozark float streams, western whitewater and the incredible Missouri River. The Meramec was a fond but distant memory. That was about to change.

In my first meeting with Ron Coleman from the Open Space Council, I inquired about archival images of the Meramec; old photos, home movies, that sort of thing. Suddenly I have this vision from my families own home movie collection. There’s my dad, way younger than I am now, sitting on a willow branch, the river running beneath his feet. The film is all scratches and flicker, with this quality of deep nostalgia that can only be found on 8mm home movies. The branch cracks; there’s my dad laughing, desperately trying to keep his cigar above water. The only soundtrack is the clatter of an old projector, but you can almost hear the echoes of laughter from four decades ago. My father climbs out of the Meramec with his cigar intact. The memory flickers and fades to black.

The Meramec was my river, my first river. It was the place I first experienced wild nature. Indian Springs Lodge, float trips with my family, laying in riffles with my brother—the water rushing over us with barely our noses out for air. Turtles, frogs, catching fish, and all those wild sounds filling the summer nights. I fell in love with the natural world at an early age. Much of my professional career has involved nature and conservation. That connection started for me on the Meramec River.

The float started on a busy weekend at Meramec State Park. The put in was packed. Buses began to unload huge masses of people. The smell of sunscreen was in the air as people toted their multi colored coolers down to the waiting watercraft, ready for a day of river fun. What a rainbow coalition of people; black, white, yellow, brown. It was evident that this was a true urban resource, a joyful urban oasis on a very hot day. We scoot through the tangle of canoes and rafts in our over the top jet boat, hired to ensure smooth on-the-water shots. Passing a raft full of women in burkas, I realize that this is a level of diversity unmatched in my experience. The people of St. Louis love this river. They use this river. The story of the Meramec was taking on wider implications. It was my personal story, yet it involved the huge concept of how desperately urban communities need to connect with wild nature. Things were getting interesting.

The trip continued for many days under a hot August sky. Bill and Jody Miles put together an incredible program of naturalists, activists and river boosters to tell the story of the Meramec as we proceeded downstream. Mussels, hellbenders, bats and botany, it was informative journey….and it made good pictures as well. I’m looking forward to the completion of our Meramec presentation soon. It’s an important story; how citizens banded together to save this resource, how they continue to maintain and protect it. I’m excited because I now realize that it’s my story too.

By Rhonda Coleman

Tell me; I forget.
Show me; I remember.
Involve me; I understand.

Ron’s been telling me about the Meramec River for over 30 years. Sometimes he would show me sights along the river, and after the fourth Saturday of each August, he would show me dumpsters overflowing with trash that had been collected—again. Last week, after being personally (even intimately) involved with the Meramec River for five consecutive days, I finally understand! I have begun to comprehend some of the complex aspects that comprise the Meramec. In addition, I gained a greater appreciation for my husband’s passion about preserving the integrity of the Meramec and celebrating its renaissance.

You see, my husband is Ron Coleman, known by some as “Mr. Clean Stream.” While his entire professional career has been devoted to parks, recreation, conservation and environmental issues, he’s probably best known as the veteran coordinator of Operation Clean Stream.

I still cherish the photograph of Ron in a canoe with our older son, Bart on Bart’s “virgin voyage” on the Meramec during his first Operation Clean Stream. Bart was a tanned, shirtless five-year-old with paddle in hand, smiling at the camera. A mound of trash in the canoe filled the space between him and his dad in the back seat.

Bart just turned 35, and he now leads a group of volunteers who clean up the St. Clair stretch of the Meramec. Like father, like son! Although Bart’s younger brother, Travis, now works in Germany, he also provided lots of grunt work on the Meramec throughout his Rockwood and Mizzou careers.

My role in Operation Clean Stream had been to provide a listening ear to Ron as he worked to coordinate efforts which grew in scope, size and complexities each year. On the day of the event, I was always on hand as his “Girl Saturday” to run last minute errands and deliver any supplies to various picnic sites. This August, I will approach OCS day with a deeper understanding of why Ron—and literally thousands of volunteers—have such a passion for the Meramec (or one of its tributaries).

Because of another event, I wasn’t able to join the group on the first day at Meramec State Park. Ron did tell me that the expedition was off to a great start and hoped I could join the group the next day. Bill and Jodie, our knowledgeable and enthusiastic leaders, got me hooked through involvement, so I eagerly returned each day for the rest of the week. One day, I even was able to involve our teenage neighbor who had never paddled a canoe. (Politicians enacted No Child Left Behind legislation in attempts to guarantee that all children receive an adequate education. Perhaps we need a program called “No Child Left Inside” to ensure that kids leave the confines of computers and video games and open their horizons to the great outdoors!)

Since John Robinson already captured the excitement of Day 2 and our experiences searching for hellbenders, I’m opting to devote the rest of my blog to the Power of Five. Each evening of the expedition after helping Ron prepare for the following day, I took time before sleep to meditate about the sensory “Kodac moments” of each day—the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and feels that created memorable impressions during my involvement that day.

Like photographs tossed into a box for organization later, I’m left with a hodgepodge of memorable moments in no specific order. I’m limiting myself to five random memories of each of the five senses. Hence, the “power of five”.

Sights:
– seeing Jodie’s expressive eyes capture the wonder of mussel reproduction when explaining the mysterious habits of glachedia (tiny mussel eggs) that attach themselves to the gills of unsuspecting fish hosts and await later expulsion when their life cycle releases them back to the river bottom.
– seeing with my own eyes, the respiration of a mature mussel that I personally held in my own hand.
— seeing nature’s lush green trees and flowering rose mallow that line the corridors of the river, even during August drought.
– seeing man’s discarded tires, appliances, and automobiles degrade the natural beauty.
– seeing basketball-hoop-sized pipes dumping human sewage into the natural flowing river.

Sounds:
– hearing Jodie identify the various mating calls of birds after listening to their distinctive melodies and rhythms.
– hearing experts like the herpetologist (Jeff Briggler) who is “hell bent” on saving hellbenders or the Mussel Man (Brian Wilcox) who is “mad about mussels” (but even madder about their diminishing abundance).
– hearing the quietness in the sounds of silence sometimes interrupted only by the muted splash of the paddles propelling us gently downstream.
– hearing the deafening sounds of bridge traffic, dredging equipment and motor boats that disturb the serenity of the river.
– hearing the muted conversations of canoe twosomes as they share their daily experiences with this paddle partners.

Smells:
– smelling the summer breezes that rustle the trees and ripple the water.
– smelling the treated sewage that seeps from the pipes.
– smelling the horrific pungency of odors emitted from a decaying mussel.
– smelling the body odor created by the mixture of human sweat and murky river water mixing on a hot August day.
– smelling the enticing aroma of brats being grilled for a perfect lunch on a gravel bar.

Tastes:
– tasting the refreshing coolness of bottled water as it quenches thirst after hours of paddling.
– tasting the Lunchables that reflect the taste temptations of today’s school children.
– tasting the Dierberg’s delicious chicken salad with grapes, celery and pecans.
– tasting the bountiful lunch from Sara’s provided by Wildwood under the pavilion near the Al Foster trailhead.
– tasting the salty sweetness of a margarita at the Pacific Coffeehouse after a hot day on the Meramec.

Touches/Feels:
– feeling the ache of muscles and sun-burned shoulders after days of paddling.
– feeling the power of the river by walking cross stream in seemingly gentle current as we looked for mussels and hellbenders.
– feeling the memory of my bare leg brushing against stinging neddle just by having Bill point out the plant’s natural defenses.
– feeling the joy of watching young children laughing together as they enjoyed being waist deep in water and asking if they could go for a ride in our boat.
– feeling the comraderie of relative strangers who are drawn together by their love of nature, their interest in rivers, and their passion for preserving the Meramec.

The Meramec Expedition provided me with five days of powerful memories based on all five senses. As I await the birth of our first grandchild, I’m hopeful that Ron and I will be able to share the diversity of the Meramec with another generation of Colemans!

Monday, July 30th, 2007
by Gary Mook, East-West Gateway

20 or so hardy voyagers met at the River Rats ‘resort’ on a morning seeming to promise a hot afternoon, if nothing else. After introductions and such, our fearless leaders had us board a Bluebird school bus to begin our mission of leaving no stone unturned in search of Ozark hellbenders in the Meramec River and environs of Franklin County, Missouri.

Our river put-in across from where Indian Creek meets the Meramec from S in Township 41N, Range 1E, Section 20, [RM 112.2] where in 1878 Thomas R. Lewis [probably no relation to Meriwether] owned property claiming both sides of the creek and a good bit of river frontage. A county plat map from that period shows symbols for lead deposits scattered throughout the area.

Here, Jeff Briggler, State herpetologist described the dismal state of the giant salamander they call the ‘hellbender’ that is related to those inhabiting China and Japan. Records show that where scores of these rarely seen [and rather ugly] amphibians existed just 30 short years ago, only a few adults and almost no young are found today. Several crew [more energetic than I] donned snorkeling and other gear and in the deepest water endeavored to overturn rocks that met Jeff’s criteria of potential hellbender shelters. These efforts were in vain.

While watching this activity, I noticed that across the stream the woods rose steeply some 80-100 feet and but for a road just out of the flood zone, was a splendid view. After this fruitless search we were given the ‘proceed on’ command at which, being a paddler, I was much relieved. I was happy to partner up with Lee, the Ozark Outdoors shuttle driver, and dip our blades into the stream.

The first stretch of river flowed NE at a gentle rate through undeveloped bottomlands. After about 1/2 mile we passed MDC Red Horse access on the R, at which point there was steep wooded terrain on the L. We then entered on a long straight stretch of water, heavily wooded on L but with much sign of cleared areas [pasture?] on the R and many eroding dirt banks. Before long we came to where Gibson’s Branch, though dry, would enter on the R.

In this stretch a few of us proceeded to do some stream cleanup, retrieving 1 LG tire, 1SM tire, a sheet of aluminum, etc. During these efforts we fell behind the rest of the expedition. The day was quickly warming as morning progressed and with little current to assist, paddling and trash retrieval soon required a quenching cold drink. As noon approached, at a point just past where the stream’s heading turned from NE to due N, entering T41N, R1E, Sec16 we saw that the rest of the expedition had beached the canoes on L and were all ashore. There were some very nicely wooded steep slopes on the opposite shore, bottomland with little shade on our side, but lunch was being served!

Lunch was a smorgasbord of delicacies . . . lunchables, cheese, baby carrots, kosher dills, Oreos, fruit, and cold drinks. [Our mascot refused to eat dog food and demanded baloney.] Our lunch site appeared to be the SE corner of the old Virginia Lead Mining Company property where in 1878 they operated an underground lead mine, furnaces, etc. on over 600 a. of property with nearly 1 mile of both E and W shores of the Meramec River.

After lunch those ambitious enough again pursued the quest for the illusive hellbender in the deepest water across from our gravel beach. Again, no hellbenders were found, but some nice specimens of mussel shells and a little trash were collected. While sitting on shore watching these efforts I was amazed at the numbers of minnows that constantly treaded back and forth in great numbers in the shallows around the beached canoes.

Jody Miles gave an animated talk about the sex life of the freshwater mussel. This animal’s continued existence depends on having their larvae latch on to the gills of certain fish. Some mussels depend on one and only one fish species! Jody also talked about crawfish, using some live volunteers fresh from the stream. After this, Jeff talked about critters like frogs, toads, salamanders, etc., using a small backwater area of the gravel bar as his classroom.

Shore lunch and classroom finished, with all trash bagged up, it was time to ‘proceed on.’ As we floated almost due N there was some nice fast water on the L and a huge long gravel bar R. After this, we again found low bottomlands on both banks with the riparian corridor narrowing and evidence of clearings or pasture behind the woods.

In this stretch I saw good-sized bottom feeding fish, probably Buffalo. As the river bends to the NE again, on the way out of Sec16, we again found higher ground on the L, along with the signs of homes or cottages. After crossing NE through the very corner of Sec15 and into Sec10, the current slowed and the woods disappeared on R. Rye Creek, almost dry, entered R at the start of a gentle bend back to the N.

Around this bend, at the start of a sharper bend R, we ran a nice riffle on the L of what might be an island in higher water. On the R, an 1878 plat map shows property owned by the Mt. Hope & Co. Mines, a lead operation. Soon after this, the river bent NW [left] for the first time and we found the most steeply wooded ground since our put-in, on the R, rising to 80-100 feet above us for over 1/4 mile.

Beyond this point, we continued NW into lower bottoms in Township 41N, Range 1E, Section 9. In this stretch we recovered some more debris including a ruptured raft in a blue and white Busch Beer design. Upon reaching a point where the stream flow seemed to rather abruptly fall to the R, there was another nice narrow riffle with another large gravel bar L. Here our whole flotilla stopped for more diving for hellbenders, a cool dip in the water, or to just relax and watch. Again, no hellbenders were found.

Just downstream from this point, a small dredging operation where the stream appeared bottlenecked by gravel deposits was just shutting down for the day, as the afternoon was getting on. Leaving Sec9 and turning N into Sec4, the stream took on a slower, lake-like nature. On the bank there were more signs of present or recent past gravel mining operations. The last 1/2 mile or so or our float was in slow current amid rather uninteresting bottomlands with weedy muddy banks as we turned NE again, slowly paddling to our River Rats destination past the Hwy30/47 bridge, [RM 117.3]. Here, after debarking and unloading gear and trash, the canoes were trailered and we listened to a presentation by MDC.

While we had floated and paddled, MDC fishery personnel, using their specially equipped
johnboat had shocked and netted a number of fish specimens. Flathead and channel catfish,
several different bass and sunfish, shad, log perch, and others I forget, were displayed and released. [No hellbenders.] The information about the fish captured, the capture process, ecosystem, and all, were very interesting. Finally, after an enjoyable and educational day, and famished from our activities, we feasted on Domino’s pizza and ice cold drinks.

8 river miles from RM 161.0 to RM 169
By Steve Nagle

We rendezvoused at Castlewood State Park and bussed over approx. @0930 hours to the canoe launch site at Route 66 State Park. I road with trip organizer Ron Coleman, who had a thermos of coffee in his flashy Jeep Commander. A knowledgeable young park ranger named Michelle Neubauer presented a talk on the history of the Park and the scourge caused by dioxin pollution at Times Beach and subsequent clean-up. We got to the 1980’s then it was time to get out on the river to stay on schedule.

We were accompanied by Jim Karpowicz and John Baker professional film makers who were hired to produce a documentary and associated interviews about the Meramec River filmed around the various “Summit” events depicting river culture, natural resources and people connected to the Meramec River Basin.

On Day 5, for the record, our volunteer explorers included Barb Ostman, Gene Nickason, Amy Butz, Brittany Barton, Jody Miles, Bill Miles, Joe Schulte, Brian Wilcox, Eric Otto, John Robinson, Rhonda Coleman, Dave Wilson and myself. Ron Coleman and Jerry Castillion handled logistics.

Joe Vujnich, city planner, and Kathy Arnett, parks director of the City of Wildwood (and Linda) organized a large tent and long table set-up for lunch at our mid day take out point at Glencoe where the Al Foster trail skirts the Meramec River. We were hungry and the generous reception by the city of Wildwood including brownies for desert was deeply appreciated by all of us.

The River – yes the river. It was all quiet except for conversations among paddlers. This stretch from Route 66 State Park down to Castlewood State Park is mostly very clean as far as trash and debris is concerned. We pulled our canoes onto a gravel bar for a swim and a search for aquatic specimens. Not certain where this was located, but cool waters came from a natural outflow into the Meramec. Bill Miles turned over a rock in the stream and picked up a fairly young red-eared slider and proceeded to discuss the ecology of turtles. I dove under the water and opened my eyes to check on visibility at this portion of the river except for the gravel bottomed shallows, the water is rather turbid. Down river another mile or so we pulled over for a presentation on Naiades (fresh water mussels) by one of the leading experts in the State of Missouri Brian Wilcox. On this river trip Brian canoed with us the whole way. If you have not met Brian and heard his brilliant testimonials on the ecology and sex life of fresh water mussels then you are missing one of the most interesting and hidden stories of river ecology.

Freelance writer and former director of Missouri Tourism, John Robinson and former Post Dispatch writer Barbara Ostmann did all six days on the Meramec adding up to about 40 miles and took notes during much of the expedition. We will be watching for their articles in Missouri Life and travel magazines. Trip leaders Bill and Jody Miles provided superb commentary on river ecology and invasive species throughout all six days.

I never cease to be grateful for the sight of a Great Blue Heron stalking the shallows or sailing across the river in those Audubon like moments, but as Dave mentioned in his Blog the sighting of the mature bald eagle roosting in the silver maple along the shoreline just before we reached our destination was also a memorable penultimate moment. Then the eagle flew downriver when we set our sights in the same direction.

While we were exploring our local masterpiece the Meramec and monitoring its condition on that same August 2nd Rover engineers were growing increasingly concerned about the temperature of vital electronics on NASA’s Mars Exploration Rover Opportunity due to a series of dust storms on Mars which have lasted over a month. Ah the spirit of exploration runs like a deep and mighty river. Traveling at a rate of about about 3 or 4 knots in our canoes it is a strange contrast to the unmanned explorer New Horizons which is continuing its speedy journey from Jupiter’s orbit at 5.2 astronomical units toward Saturn’s orbit at 9.5 AU’s roughly about a million miles per day which is about a third of an AU.

We are looking for any and all contributions to producing the film about the Meramec River Basin - a River in Renaissance. The film will be available to generations to come and will tell valuable amazing stories about the longest undimmed river in American History. Almost 40 years ago after we first set foot on the moon, the complete lunar photographic record from the Apollo project will finally be accessible to both researchers and the general public on the internet. And back here on earth, on Saturday August 25 and Sunday August 26 the 40th annual Operation Clean Stream for the Meramec with Courtouis & Huzzah River Sections will be held. Please sign up to volunteer for this historic event and clean-up. For info: call 636-451-6090.

By David Wilson, East West Gateway Council of Governments

The hearty canoers meet at Castlewood State Park, near the put in. The big trees in this flood plain environment create a lot of shade which feels good even early in the morning on this hot day. We will end our journey here, and so park and lock our cars, bringing just what we will want and need for the river.

The bus takes us up river to Route 66 State Park, formerly the site of the ill-fated Times Beach and Steiney’s restaurant. The Restaurant is now the park head quarters and the entrance to the park is essentially the old Highway 66 bridge over the river.

We drive down to the put in and a ranger tells the group about how Times beach was an advertising and investment scheme of a now long defunct newspaper in St. Louis. Subscribers could buy a small lot on or adjacent to the river for just a few dollars… who knew that 50 years later most of those lots would be filled with permanently occupied mobile homes; that the oil put on the dirt roads to keep down the dust would be contaminated by dioxin, or that a record flood in 1982 would completely innundate the town shortly after the dioxin was discovered. A federal buy out of the flooded town and clean up of the dioxin opened the way for the creation of the park.

We climb in our canoes and head off down river, floating north into St. Louis county. The sounds of the highway on the bridge above accompany us for the first several hundred yards, until the river turns and the quiet descends. Out here who could think we are in the middle of Missouri’s most populous county? Blue heron fly up from the bank, a large raptor flies over the river near the bluff ahead. Due to the angle of the sun, and distance from us, its body is dark and I cannot tell in the brief time I see it whether it is hawk or osprey –or eagle. Well, at that point I am thinking it is a very big hawk, but I do not seriously consider it is an eagle, until we reach the final mile of our float that afternoon and find a mature bald eagle in a tree at the edge of a large gravel bar. We stop to look as the bird turns its head and opens its wings as if to fly off. But the bird stays, and I marveled at how this is a visual confirmation of what I have heard - eagles are nesting on the river again! The eagle sits proudly as if to show off. We watch until the pressure to continue our journey overwhelms our awe and we shove off. Soon the eagle flies over us heading down river toward Castlewood and our destination…

By Jody Miles, Co-Executive Director of Earth’s Classroom, Inc.

The early morning was nearing upper 70s, clear, sunny and humid. The shade felt quite comforting. Our group had gathered at Pacific Palisades Conservation Area to begin our day. However, before we pushed off onto the Meramec current, Rick Clawson, from MDC, discussed with us his knowledge of the bats of the Meramec Drainage Basin. Dialogue of unique facts and questions were gratefully shared.

Boarding our canoes at about 10:20 am we were off. I was told that this section was a turning point in clarity and quality of the river compared to the previous, up-river days. At first glance I concurred. Several years since I had done this section, but my memory served me well. This seven-mile section had beautiful riffles and bluff lines. The bluffs were different down here, much more sandy vs. hard dolomite.

The trip started and ended with harsh evidence of direct human impact on this beautiful stretch. Before our first meander was taken we examined a large Eastern Spiny Softshell turtle. (Must have been a female by its large size.) Thinking it was only basking on the sandy bank, we floated close to see our luck at catching it for an on-the-spot educational moment. But, seeing the blood soaked sand we knew different. Shot through the neck and base of head, it was left there to dry up in the sun. Its eyes still had a clear gaze at us. Must of lost its life just within hours of our visit.

Ironically, just 100 yards before pulling off at Allenton Access, I repeated my same excitement of an educational moment with the largest freshwater mussel we had seen all day. It was a washboard mussel about 10 inches long and 5 inches tall. However, freshly a victim to some other human’s flirt with power, a firecracker had been stuck down its respiration vent and blown its fleshy mussel to bits.

Being a person of high respect and appreciation to all intricate life, I worked to hold my professional composure.

Moreover, the body of the trip was full of healthy life. Bill, my educational-partner-in-crime, and I led the group up through a narrow channel, by canoe, only 5 to 6 feet in width that laid perpendicular to the Meramec. This channel was being cleared out by the largest rodent of North America…the beaver. Working hard not tread upon land, piles of river silt and mud had been slapped up everywhere along the shallow canal by the beaver. The canal (about 30 yards long) met up to the backside of its dam, which held 10 to twelve inches high of water.

Later on, a large mussel bed was examined in shallow, warm waters of the Meramec. With about 45 species existing in the Meramec, it was a pleasant surprise to see about 11 or 12 different species all together. We observed the pimple-backed, butterfly, pocketbook, common mucket, three-ridged, and pig toe…just to name a few. Oh, yes, this was a wonderful educational moment! And as my excitement built with sharing I took a personal notation of observation in my head. Most of the species I found were male (because of longer posterior end). Do some females separate themselves and stay in deeper waters to draw in their host for their young? Hum, I do not know!?

After a horrible site nick-named the “Detroit Rip Rap” (many, many cars from about the 1940-60s piled on the banks and into the waters), I had everyone gather their canoes under a bluff that overhung the river. Glancing up I pointed out the white “splats” placed on the overhung rock formation. With many mysterious clues I finally gave up the culprit whom did the white markings, which incased the growing young; an adult Dobson fly. Also, known as a hellgrammite in its aquatic larvae stage.

It was a fantastic day of education! And even though temperatures persisted into the low 90s, I didn’t hesitate too long to jump in. Even though 12 inch-deep- water looked to be several feet deep; very murky.

After pulling off the river at Allenton Access we drove off to a historic, 3-story, building, which housed the Great Pacific Coffee Company in downtown Pacific, MO. Another 3 hours of visiting, dancing, piano playing, touring, intriguing presentations from the local organizations, and a big ice-cold margarita; the day finished with much fulfillment.

By John Robinson, former Director, Missouri Division of Tourism

Almost broke my leg.

Well, not really. And the state herpitologist had nothing to do with it, directly. Regardless of the fact that he’d inspired almost all of us to put on a snorkel and dive the Meramec, he only wanted to find a Hellbender. No, not an Ozark Hellbender. An Eastern Hellbender. He didn’t find one. It wasn’t for lack of trying.

I didn’t find one either. But I found out something else.

I caught myself bitching that the Meramec’s current was slower than the rivers to which I was accustomed. Then I put on the mask.

State herpitologists don’t mince words. “You’ll eat more and sleep more than you ever have in your life, when you finish a day searching for hellbenders,” he warned.

He was passionate about finding even one of these primordial salamanders. They’re more than endangered, he said. “We can’t find small hellbenders. Maybe that means the big ones are not reproducing. Anybody that finds a young hellbender gets a free steak dinner.”

We were hooked. This gaggle of good swimmers and snorkelers, good conoeists, and genuine decent people waded into the water like we were at a revival. We didn’t want a steak dinner. We entered the river to find a Hellbender. We dived to the bottom of the river — no more than four feet — to overturn big rocks. Big rocks. That’s where the Hellbenders are.

So we hoped.

The current was swift. Just as the herpitologist said, you could overturn BIG rocks by using the current. In the middle of the stream, I tried to maintain my position, digging my feet into the rocky bottom, propping my skinny frame against a four foot wall of moving water. I dived, found a rock, overturned it. Before the muddy cloud dispersed, the river swept me a dozen yards downstream.

I dived for an hour. Maybe it was ten minutes. I’d swim ashore, walk upriver, and dive again, the current sending me downriver like bass food.

Every time I dived, I knew about the submerged tree. Downriver, about six body lengths. And it was big, sunk perpendicular to the stream.

The last time I dived to overturn a rock and find a hellbender, I missed grabbing the rock, my fingers slipping over its slick pate. The current swept me downstream, and I crashed into the butt end of the big submerged tree. My shin took took the shock. I rolled downriver, clutching my leg, until good sense and declining pain directed me to gather my fortitude and walk ashore.

The tree didn’t intend to hurt me. But that sunken sucker taught me a lesson:

The river is bigger and stronger and more important than all of us.

And I can only hope that a hellbender sits under that slippery rock.