The dangerous Red River

Billy Hale of Clarksville, Texas, was brought up on the Red River, fishing the river from the time he was old enough to handle a pole, running a boat up and down the treacherous river when he proved he was capable of doing so.

A bit over 20 years ago, though, the river almost got Hale.

It was a day in mid-spring, seasonal rains finished, when Hale put his aluminum V-bottom boat into the river. The Red was high with water from West Texas and Oklahoma tributaries, as well as the usual downpours of March and April.

Hale was running wide open, headed west, upstream against the muddy red current. He kept an eye out for floating trees brought downstream and for eddies in the current.

“All of a sudden,” he said, “this butt end of a tree came up out of the water and hit my boat.”

The impact occurred on the left side, behind Hale, and was so sudden and hard that Hale flew from the boat and into the Red.

Few people go swimming in the Red on purpose. The river is known for whirlpools that can drag a swimmer below the surface, with a good chance of drowning the unwary human. When the river is low, sandbars dot the river in places, filling fully three-quarters of the bed in other places.

There are stories of people walking on the large sandbars and who step onto a thin part and disappear into the river, never to be seen again,

The tree that hit Hale’s boat was another danger of the Red, a hazard since boats first entered the river. Trees have sunk several hundred, if not a thousand, boats from the farthest navigable upstream point to where the Red enters the Atchafalaya River in Louisiana.  

Thrown from his boat, Hale hit the fast-flowing river and was immediately taken under.

“When I came up the first time, I could see my boat about 25 yards away,” he said.

Then, the river took him back under.

“When I came up the second time, my hand hit the side of the boat.”

Hale hauled himself into the boat. The motor was still running. Hale worked his way downstream until he reached a place he could put in. He walked to where his truck and trailer were parked, drove to his boat, loaded it up and went to the local hospital.

“I had swallowed a lot of water,” he said. “My doctor told me to go home and get in bed. He said I’d probably be okay that day, but starting the next day I would be sick as a dog. That is exactly what happened.”

When he was well enough, Hale was back on the river, fishing, as he had since childhood.