Catch and Release

"Who hears the rippling of rivers will not utterly despair of anything."

-- Henry David Thoreau 

I often see inspirational posts, touting the healing powers of the ocean. And while I would never dispute the beauty and majesty of the seashore, it's little more than a pipe dream for someone who spends most of their time in land-locked Kansas.

While it may not be as mighty or awe-inspiring as the crash of waves along a rocky shore or the ebb and flow of water racing toward a sandy beach, a trip to a favorite fishing spot along the Ninnescah River also provides that calming sound of moving water. (Be sure to have the sound on as you watch the video.)

For weeks, our home along the Stafford/Reno County Line had been in a slash of red on a map right in the middle of Kansas. That red signified an area of extreme drought. 

But last week, 5 inches of rain improved our drought status here. And Randy was anxious to visit the Ninnescah pasture for a fishing trip.

The Johnson pasture along the Ninnescah has long been a "summer vacation spot" for our mama cows and their calves. On that summer evening, the cattle were grazing in another part of the pasture. They might have been missing out on the beauty, but it was there for the taking for a couple of interlopers in a Gator. 

Randy is the fisherman. I'm more along for the ride and the natural beauty. I may hold a fishing pole for awhile, but I'm usually more interested in holding the pages open on my book, competing with inopportune page turning from the Kansas wind.

And let's be honest: Randy does the hard work on these expeditions. He gathers the supplies and equips the Gator and baits the hook. I guess he finds the companionship worth it? Or maybe I'm there to be the cheerleader? Or official photographer to prove his mighty fisherman status?

That night was a "catch and release" night. He weighed the catfish, reported its 3-pound heft and then tossed it back in the water. 

I'm also content to wander around and find the splashes of color provided by the wildflowers.

There were yellow cone flowers.

The lavender of the wooly verbena is always a favorite for this K-State fan.

And the purple poppy mallow almost mimicked a rose. (I personally think they should be called pink or magenta poppy mallow, but nobody asked me.)

But the "music" of the evening was provided by the river as it tumbled over the dam and crashed into the rocks below.

The frothiness looked like suds on top of an ice-cold soda pop, which might have made the humid June evening a little more tolerable.

When Randy first felt a tug on his line, the froth covered up the "prize" until he reeled it in. It wasn't a catfish. It was a turtle, which he unhooked and sent on its way.

After a precarious slide down to the water's edge when he caught the catfish, I am adding another tool in Randy's fishing arsenal. I ordered a fishing net with an expandable handle. It will go right along with the retractable/expandable golf tool I bought him a few years ago for Christmas that he uses to retrieve balls from underneath trees or in water hazards.

 

While the water is great and all, taking an unexpected swim isn't in the plans - even if it might have felt good on a warm June night.

 

Sunday Drive on a Friday Night

 

We took a "Sunday drive" last Friday night.  

The term "Sunday drive" originated from leisurely car drives taken on Sundays in the early to mid-20th century as a form of cheap entertainment. That just happens to be the time I was a kid growing up on a Central Kansas farm. I know about "Sunday drives" firsthand as a kid sitting in the backseat of a car while my dad sang songs like "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" or "Mairzy Doats." Those - plus "I'm An Old Cowhand" - were also part of the sound track of our trips to visit my grandparents in Sublette. 

If you look up the definition of "Sunday drives," it says that initially, these drives were a form of recreation with no specific destination or time constraints. Over time, the term "Sunday driver" has evolved to describe someone who drives slowly, cautiously or inexpertly, often associated with inattentive drivers. Alternatively, it can mean "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

Since the only living things we saw on our trek off the beaten path were grazing cattle, we didn't bother any other drivers on our foray down country roads. So I guess, in this case, we'll stick with the definition of "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

We ate supper at Sylvia's Oasis restaurant after a fellow golfer recommended the Mexican food there to Randy. On the way home, we took a detour to the Ninnescah Pasture. Randy had been there more recently than I had. One summer when we were still actively farming, we took more trips down that road than any of us would have liked. There was a group of cows and calves that were determined to find the proverbial "greener pastures." No matter what we did, they would not stay in, so we were on 4-wheelers rounding them up more times than either of us wanted. (That group of escapees eventually ended up at the sale barn.) 

Anyway, it was nice to take a leisurely trip down the road - with no purpose in mind, other than checking out the water flow in the Ninnescah ... 

Looking east at the bridge

 

Looking west at the bridge

... And "smelling the roses" - or, in this case -  the wooly verbena. 

 

The road to another familiar pasture - the Rattlesnake Pasture - used to be lined by a tunnel of cottonwood trees, a route I loved in the summer. But several years ago, those aging cottonwoods were cleared away from the road. I'm sure it made practical sense, but I still miss dodging light and shadow as we work our way down that road. I imagined Randy's predecessors 120 years ago appreciating the road less traveled as they brought cattle to the Rattlesnake pasture and then checked them throughout the summer months.

July 2013 - This was before the township tore down most of the cottonwoods along the road to the Rattlesnake Pasture.

Maybe those nostalgic memories factor into my love of a tree-lined road near the Ninnescah Pasture, where the trees still tower over the dirt road and the sun plays peekaboo among the branches.

 

 You can't beat a Sunday drive on a Friday night.

 

Look for chances to take the less-traveled roads. 

There are no wrong turns.

-- Susan Magsamen 

 

*** 

And an update on the bridge north of our house: We drove up to the bridge last evening to check out the progress. Completion is definitely closer, but the Road Closed signs remain. However, all the big equipment is gone, and the new guardrails are in place. 

On August 5, the public works guys told Randy that the bridge would be done in 2 weeks. We'll see if their prediction holds true. 

 

Celebrating Rainfall and Fishing

The Ninnescah River looked a little like the wash cycle in a clothes washing machine with lots of little bubbles frothing to the surface. 

But nobody had gotten careless with the detergent. Instead, the frothiness was caused by the pressure of water rushing through a dam there. 

It had been years since we'd seen that much water and flow at the Ninnescah River pasture where some of our cows and calves spend their summer vacations.

 

There was even water working its way from water holes north of the river and spilling into it. 

 

 

Randy and I had taken the Gator to the pasture for fishing Friday afternoon (May 30). During the past month, we've received between 5 and 6 inches of rain. As we approached the dam, both of us commented on how the rainfall should help the Cheney Watershed, which has suffered from persistent drought in the past few years. 

From https://www.cheneylakewatershed.org

The Cheney Lake Watershed (North Fork Ninnescah River) covers 633,000 acres within five counties in south central Kansas including portions of Reno, Stafford, Pratt, Kingman, and Kiowa counties. More than 99 percent of the watershed is used for agricultural purposes. Also included is the Cheney Reservoir, an important source of drinking water and recreation for the City of Wichita and surrounding communities. More than 70 percent of Wichita's water is taken from the reservoir. 

Since last summer, weather forecasters on the Wichita television stations have reported on the low water levels at Cheney Lake. Ross Jansen, KWCH-TV's chief meteorologist, shared this map:

Here's what the graphic had to say: Where does the rain need to fall in order to fill up Cheney Lake? Other than the obvious (right over the lake), here's a map to show the watershed.

Looking at the water just before it reaches the dam - no "foam" on this side.

According to news reports, our May rains did have an impact on Cheney Lake, which was up more than 17 inches since the morning of Saturday, May 24, and up 7.68 inches since Wednesday, May 28, at 7 a.m. That’s  more than 3.2 billion gallons of water, according to KWCH. 

The lake now sits at 6.60 feet below normal. However, Wichita remains under Stage 2 drought restrictions, which it implemented August 2024. The yearly average water level at Cheney Reservoir must be at least 70 percent for the drought restrictions to be lifted.

But, it is good news for Cheney Reservoir and the city of Wichita. And it's a boon for all the farmers and ranchers who rely on the Ninnescah for their livelihoods.  

 

Thankfully, we don't rely on fishing to put meat on the table, though we do rely on the Ninnescah to provide water and rich vegetation for our mamas and baby calves. 

 

We wondered if the water was moving too quickly for Randy to even get a bite.  

However, success! 

 

He caught a 4-pound catfish. He had another catfish on the line (he says), but it got away. 

 

I can neither affirm or deny this fish tale. I had cataract and glaucoma stent surgery on my left eye May 19, so I'm not seeing particularly well at the moment. Thank goodness for iphone cameras to capture the moment easily. It was enough for a tasty fried fish supper at The County Line. 

 

A Trip to the Fishing Hole

 

"Your chariot awaits."

Cinderella may have had a pumpkin-shaped coach and a fancy new dress for her outing. I get a loud John Deere Gator and old blue jeans on the way to a fishing hole.

Rain in June finally had the water in the Ninnescah River pasture flowing. This old Cinderella and her Prince much prefer nature's paintings over a fancy crowded ballroom anyway.

We didn't catch a thing - other than a feast for the eyes.

The rain had refreshed the pasture landscape to a verdant green.

Many years ago, hunters created a dam at the Ninnescah, and the spillway always fascinates me. I duck-walked on the rounded pipe that forms a bridge, holding on to the railing. Rushing water gave a feeling of vertigo, but I snapped a few photos before carefully making my way back. No old ladies were harmed in the snapping of this photo.

However, I preferred being back on solid ground where I could enjoy the sights and sounds without fear of falling in!

I did put a line in for awhile.

Patience is not my virtue. I ended up wandering around taking photos instead, leaving Randy to keep trying his luck. 

He had some nibbles, but no catfish dinner for us that day!

I did have some success in the beauty department, though.

These may be pretty yellow flowers, but I don't like the "stickers" attached.

These itty-bitty blue flowers - erect day flowers - are some of my pasture favorites. 

Even Randy was ready to pack up the fishing gear after awhile. But we still enjoyed a Gator ride through the pasture.

It was the very definition of "pastoral."

Even though we aren't the "official" cattle checking crew, we still had to drive through them. 

 It appeared they were enjoying their summer vacation spot.

 Cattle are curious creatures.

We made our usual stop at the bridge, too. It was nice to see some water flowing.

That was a Saturday morning well spent! I came home and made something other than fish for lunch. And that was OK, too.