By Norris Chambers

           Clifton and I, joined by Clyde, Carl and one of their cousins, were embarking on another fishing trip. My mother told us several times that the weather might not be good for a camping trip. But we were determined and our old Model T truck soon chugged across the 100 acre grain field to the bordering row of timber identifying the creek area. The place we selected was ideal for a simple camp site. Several times before we had selected the same place and everyone had been happy with the selection. The fish might not have been as well pleased as we were because we disrupted their usual routine by offering some nice tidbits on a line. Nibbling on one of these goodies usually ended in an undesirable experience with a frying pan.

            A few ‘possum hides properly dried, stretched and sold had finally provided us with a nice 10’X12’ tent. We had a twelve foot folding boat and a good collection of trot lines, automatic bank hooks and necessary accessories. Our cooking equipment completed the fishing requirement. Everything fit nicely on the old Model T truck we had salvaged from the junk yard and repaired.

            We parked in our usual place and unloaded the tent and fire dogs. The rock ring for the fire had been in use many times and we intended to use it again. On some previous visit we had carried gravel from the creek area and packed down a nice floor for the tent. We didn’t want to get the canvas bottom dirty!

            Clyde and Carl soon had the nice tent erected and the front wall open facing the fire ring.

They muttered something about finding some wood for the fire and disappeared in the brush east of our camp. Clifton was looking through the fishing gear.

            “We might ought to wait and see what those clouds do before we get too many lines set,” he said. I was inclined to agree with him. The clouds were much heavier and it seemed dark enough for the beginning of night, but according to Clifton’s pocket watch we should have had over an hour of daylight left “Why don’t we wait a few minutes before doing anything. Grandma might have been right, it does look like bad weather.” he continued. A loud clap of thunder was enough to convince me.                                            

            “Why don’t we get packed and get out while we can?” I shouted. The wind had started blowing briskly and was so noisy it was necessary to scream to be heard. “Load up!” I continued. “Maybe we can still outrun the flood!” I had seen drifts in the trees and I knew that our truck was no match for a Pecan Bayou flood. Everyone began franticly throwing articles on the truck without proper packing. I knew this wasn’t a good way to load a truck but I saw a foaming wall of water rushing along the western side of the field and I knew that it would soon be streaming through our camp bringing logs, brush and trash. All of our nice camping equipment would soon be part of the creek trash rolling with the splashing tide. I had been so concerned with the equipment that I had forgotten our own safety. “Get in that tree,” I shouted, “and hurry. The flood will be here in a minute and we don’t want to get caught in it.” I knew we would be moved quickly downstream and separated from each other. If we were in the same tree we would at least know if anyone was missing.

            We could hear the roar of running water between the loud outbursts of thunder and the flashes of lightning. Darkness had suddenly invaded our pleasant camp and as I scrambled up the big pecan tree along with the other campers I saw that the swiftly moving water was taking our nice camping gear, piece by piece! The truck engine, steering wheel and most of the windshield were completely under water and as I watched the flood continue to grow larger and noisier I saw the old truck start moving sideways then turning over as a large tree buried it beneath its heavy branches and moved out of sight.

            Someone in the tree asked if the water would get higher and would our tree withstand the flood. There was no answer. “Just hang on,” I yelled, “Everybody can swim, but don’t leave the tree till the water is gone. It won’t be more than an hour!”

            Eventually the heavy rain stopped and the flood water returned to its normal path. None of the nice camping equipment was in sight. The old truck was lying on its back with the four wheels apparently uninjured but adorned with vines and trash. I knew we could salvage the old Model T, but everything else was lost!

            Before we could worry about the journey home the problem was solved. My brother was honking from the main road, about a half mile across the grain field. We had no way of honking but we did enough yelling to establish communication. We enjoyed a few camping trips after this one but we were careful to check with the weather experts before going to the creek!

            Was this a fun trip? The fun fairy was asleep when this stormy trip occurred!

e of the field and I knew that it would soon be streaming through our camp bringing logs, brush and trash. All of our nice camping equipment would soon be part of the creek trash rolling with the splashing tide. I had been so concerned with the equipment that I had forgotten our own safety. “Get in that tree,” I shouted, “and hurry. The flood will be here in a minute and we don’t want to get caught in it.” I knew we would be moved quickly downstream and separated from each other. If we were in the same tree we would at least know if anyone was missing.

            We could hear the roar of running water between the loud outbursts of thunder and the flashes of lightning. Darkness had suddenly invaded our pleasant camp and as I scrambled up the big pecan tree along with the other campers I saw that the swiftly moving water was taking our nice camping gear, piece by piece! The truck engine, steering wheel and most of the windshield were completely under water and as I watched the flood continue to grow larger and noisier I saw the old truck start moving sideways then turning over as a large tree buried it beneath its heavy branches and moved out of sight.

            Someone in the tree asked if the water would get higher and would our tree withstand the flood. There was no answer. “Just hang on,” I yelled, “Everybody can swim, but don’t leave the tree till the water is gone. It won’t be more than an hour!”

            Eventually the heavy rain stopped and the flood water returned to its normal path. None of the nice camping equipment was in sight. The old truck was lying on its back with the four wheels apparently uninjured but adorned with vines and trash. I knew we could salvage the old Model T, but everything else was lost!

            Before we could worry about the journey home the problem was solved. My brother was honking from the main road, about a half mile across the grain field. We had no way of honking but we did enough yelling to establish communication. We enjoyed a few camping trips after this one but we were careful to check with the weather experts before going to the creek!

            Was this a fun trip? The fun fairy was asleep when this stormy trip occurred!