(NOTE: This is for Ron Duke, who rode off down the South Fork of the Guadalupe River near Hunt, Texas early on the morning of July 4, 2025 in his kayak. As far as I know, he was last seen nearing the Gulf of Mexico. Wherever you are, Ron, may you R.I.P)
Conventional wisdom says
That Ron Duke didn’t survive
The massive flood of ’25.
But he’s never been one to let convention
Get in his way.
Through the years
He was often heard to say:
“The best time to kayak this river
Is when it’s flooding.”
This may be what actually happened:
In the dark of the morning
On the Fourth of July of ‘25,
Ron was startled awake by pounding rain.
The sound was music to his ears once he put his hearing aids in.
Back in ’87, he’d stayed in bed and listened to that same song,
For a little too long.
And that’d been a mistake.
So this time around, he had a new plan.
With the help of a rush of adrenaline,
He crabwalked himself out of bed,
And made his way down the outdoor leaning stairway,
Of his house on stilts.
Then, he walked across the road,
To his combination
Kayak/canoe/outdoor gear/chainsaw/mountain bike/woodstove/water advocacy shop.
With the water coming his way,
And no time to waste,
He made a try at haste.
He moved, not dragged, a kayak to the parking lot,
Grabbed a paddle, put on his old life jacket,
Got his thermos of Community Coffee,
A box of coffee cake that he’d fairly recently purchased at Walmart,
A new pack of Marlboro’s,
And the unread July issue of the Geographic.
Then, he climbed into the boat
Just as the water set him afloat.
And so,
He rode the rising South Fork
In his kayak toward the Gulf.
Through the cypress
And the cedars,
Past the boulders
And the bluffs.
Lightning flashing,
Thunder rumbling
Sweet smell of raindrops in the air.
He didn’t hurry,
No need to worry.
‘Cause he was on a river,
And headed home.
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