When I was with the highway department it was customary to keep the survey crews "busy" when the weather kept us from our monotonous topo work. One of our favorite (and almost worthwhile) busy chores was to record high water marks at various structures on highway routes within the districts we worked in.
Usually the morning after an inundating rain in a particular area we would hit the road and inspect a number of major boxes and bridges and attempt to estimate where the high water had been. We kept field books for each "control section" with BM info on either the headwalls or bridge seats of the major structures. A trip down to a headwall and an a quick measurement and we were on to the next structure. The best part of the day was our freedom to pick where we would eat lunch. It was "no-brainer" work but it kept the hydrologists in the bridge department happy.
One cold October morning we all made it in to the office and realized we had been rained out of every job we had going on. About 5" of rain had fallen overnight in the NW part of the State and I sent several crews here and there to record high water. I chose the SH11 route for myself and a crew because there was a particularly tasty "emu burger" on the menu in a little place called Pond Creek that I decided I wanted for lunch.
As SH11 runs west across the north side of what we call the Salt Plains in Alfalfa County there is a series of bridges and boxes that are notorious for flooding. Just west of the SH38 Jct. is where all these begin. As I pulled up to the first RCB I could see it had been a voracious rain. The fields on both sides of the highway looked like lakes and the water discharging on the south side of the road looked like an open spillway at the Hoover Dam. I loving cautioned the three boneheads with me to "keep the fu*k away from the slope"...
We grabbed all the gear from the rear of the van and out of the corner of my eye I saw one of employees named Clarence heading to the upstream side. I remember saying loudly for everybody to "stick together"...like they were going to listen...Three of us made it over to the top of bank and looked down the steep slope to the upstream side of the box. It was completely inundated and a good amount of timber snag was collecting there causing an ominous whirlpool. The water was flowing at a good 10 fps into the maw of the intake.
We had a modified bosun's chair for safety when working around MHs and the like. I asked the youngest of my help, Gary, to tie off and slip down the 1:1 slope and we'd hold the rope for him as he measured from the top of the headwall to the water level. As he was slipping on the harness I noticed there was no Clarence.
Three of us stood there dumbfounded and quiet for a few seconds. The last we had seen Clarence was when we were at the rear of the van and he was headed over the slope. My heart pounded in my neck. If Clarence had slipped down the wet grass slope into that mess he would surely not survive. I quickly ran to the south side of the highway to see if he had popped out the downstream side...no Clarence.
The two other hands were hollering loud for him. Gary, a young kid, was starting to shake and get upset as he was realizing what had just happened. I told both of them to stay put and I ran to the truck to see if I could get some help via the radio. I couldn't believe I had lost a man in the span of just a minute or two. I threw open the driver's door and grabbed the mic to alert my office and the State Troopers we needed some help, fast. My heart was in my throat.
Just as I started to key up the mic the back door of the van opened up and Clarence tossed a small roll of toilet paper back up on top of the tool box. "We got to start keeping some better toilet paper in the truck.." was the only words out of his mouth. When I asked where the hell he had been he told me he had to go...bad. He had grabbed the toilet paper and headed over a few hundred yards to a small brush stand before any of us could see where he went.
Gary was almost in tears but quickly turned angry when I hollered to them "I got him!" and they saw him at the back of the van. Clarence was confused and oblivious to all the commotion he had caused in such a short period of time. The other two, Gary and Tim, smacked him around at the back of the van. Half mad and half glad he hadn't fallen in the great whirling abyss.
All Clarence could say was, "What? What did I do?" as he protected himself from the other guys grabbing and punching on him.
I do know how big the stack of paper is that one has to fill out when one loses a battery to a digital level. I have no idea how big the stack would be if you lost an employee....and I never want to find out.
:D:D:D:D:D
Didn't know this was online.
3 of us were heading back to the office from Paducah after a heavy rainstorm. We rounded a curve and there was a small station wagon sitting crossways off the shoulder with the backend pointing down the slope towards the inlet end of a cross drain, which had 3-4' of water backed up with a whirlpool swirling down to the pipe. A couple of other cars were stopped on the shoulder. There was a lady wandering back and forth screaming "my baby, my baby!!!". The back window of the station wagon was broken out, so we all assumed her baby had flown out the back window and was somewhere down in the water. We got down to the water and felt around best we could, went to the outlet end and did the same, couldn't find anything. Finally got back up to the road and asked the screaming lady, "ma'am, how old is your baby?"
"22".
Seems it was her sons car, he had spun out and caught a ride, she happened to come by shortly after.
My mother, who was a foot shorter than me, insisted on introducing me to certain people, well known to her but not to me, as "This is my baby boy."
Robert Hill, post: 426169, member: 378 wrote: Didn't know this was online.
Merci Robert. That was a really good read.
paden cash, post: 426181, member: 20 wrote: Merci Robert. That was a really good read.
I got to meet and know one of the COE survey crew who worked at the Old Lock during the '73 event. He was now much older and retired but working as a field supervisor for a COE contractor from up around that way. Old Cajun with a thick Cajun patois who told me some stories about the event. He was part of the crew who would go out to take the lead line soundings at the "Hole" so they could monitor the undercut. Pretty insane and dangerous task done by crazyazz Cajuns.
His daughter moved down this way and teaches at the high school and is also the Girls basketball and softball coach for many years.
When I was a youngster I grew up hunting in the Mississippi sloughs across from Old River around Ft. Adams. Quite the metropolis 
Holy Cow, post: 426174, member: 50 wrote: My mother, who was a foot shorter than me, insisted on introducing me to certain people, well known to her but not to me, as "This is my baby boy."
My Mother still does that and I'm a 54 year old Grandpa. I'm also the youngest of her five children.
I used to refer to my nephews as rug rats. Until one of them finally called me on it when he was in his mid 20's.
James Fleming, post: 426201, member: 136 wrote: When I was a youngster I grew up hunting in the Mississippi sloughs across from Old River around Ft. Adams. Quite the metropolis
For a few years early in my career I surveyed for a telecommunications company. Lots of little mom and pop exchanges were being bought up by Bell Systems and incorporated into the twentieth century. Most of this work was central LA from Lake Charles to Baton Rouge to Shreveport. I had been a few places by that time in my life, including two rodeos and a county fair, but was enamored by the culture and people in the area.
Some of the people were impoverished to the point they had to borrow that proverbial "pot". But they all had a l'esprit de communaut̩ and a connection with the environment that was the key to their happiness. With my foolish youth I had often thought that no money meant no happiness. I was once told that "nobody down here got any money, but happy is free as long as you can fish".
The temperature and humidity was uncomfortable at times...but I still dream about the food and music. 😉
James Fleming, post: 426201, member: 136 wrote: When I was a youngster I grew up hunting in the Mississippi sloughs across from Old River around Ft. Adams. Quite the metropolis
Well I guess that both of us have been to the Pond Store. I was there a few times during road trips to hike in the Clark Creek and Tunica Hills areas.
Between hunters and hikers, the store is a must stop.
There used to be (prior to about 1985) a general store in "downtown" Ft Adams that makes the Pond Store look like Macy's. Vienna sausages, Coca-Cola, & 00 buckshot were the big sellers...plus the big jar of picked sausages at the cash register.
Now I'm going to have to buy this...
https://www.amazon.com/Country-Stores-Mississippi-Davis-Davidson/dp/1626195927/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=
Should have googled first...there is a picture of everything on the interweb
See below
paden cash, post: 426181, member: 20 wrote: Merci Robert. That was a really good read.
Pretty much ANYTHING McPhee writes is good to read!
paden cash, post: 426246, member: 20 wrote: I was once told that "nobody down here got any money, but happy is free as long as you can fish".
The temperature and humidity was uncomfortable at times...but I still dream about the food and music. 😉
