Kayaking is a rapidly growing outdoor pursuit in the Ozarks. There is no better place to enjoy this great outdoor adventure than in the Cuba-Steelville area of the Missouri Ozarks. 

Cuba, located on I-44 an hour from St. Louis, is known as “The Gateway to the Ozarks,” while Steelville a few miles South on Hwy 19, is known as the “Floating Capitol of Missouri.” Both towns are well suited to provide all the amenities a kayaker could need. 

I began my 3-rivers kayaking trip on the Courtois at the Little St. Louis primitive campground, owned by the Missouri Department of Conservation at 7 a.m. A heavy cloak of fog held the stream corridor in an eerie shroud. Massive limestone bluffs, covered with hardwood forests, ancient cedars, dense mosses, and summertime wildflowers provided a natural palette of color. I immediately soaked in the solitude, save for the imagined Leprechauns peering from under stream-side toadstools. 

Less than 75-yards downstream I recognized a familiar Ozark Trail sign tacked to a river birch on the stream bank. The Courtois section of the Ozark Trail crosses here. Hikers and back packers need to be prepared for this “wet” crossing, which varies from knee deep to near waist deep, depending on the season. 

Another 50 yards up the Ozark Trail is Bat Cave, a well-known natural landmark located along the scenic limestone bluffs of Courtois Creek in Crawford County, Missouri. It is situated inside the rugged 7,000-acre Huzzah Conservation Area.

The cave is gated and closed to human entry to protect the local bat populations, including the endangered Indiana Brown Bat, and prevent the spread of White Nose Syndrome.

I paused at the cool entrance of Bat Cave to escape the heat and humidity of a hot July day. I admired the wide variety of unique plant life associated with the deep shade, high-humidity and limestone-rich soils of such caves. The transition zone is characterized by mosses, liverworts, ferns, and specialized wildflowers that cling to the cool, damp rock faces and corresponding twilight zones. I am especially fond of the fragile Black-tipped Walking Fern, which takes root wherever its tips touch the earth, and the Ebony Spleenwort, with its distinctive black veins.

I walked away from the Bat Cave environs with a new since of wonderment. Less than 20 minutes from my home, I had entered another world of great natural beauty, steeped in local folk lore, astounding natural variety, and protected for future generations to enjoy.

Shoving off in my kayak proved a bit bittersweet, but I knew more adventures lay ahead. I picked up my light spinning rod and cast to a large, moss-covered boulder. The immediate strike from a scrappy smallmouth bass startled me. I was not prepared. The powerful fish went airborne, executing a complete aerial somersault. It then dove to rock rubble and brush. I lost the prized fish without another glance. I sat back in my kayak exasperated at having been defeated once again by the King of Ozark streams, the smallmouth bass.

As I neared the confluence of the Courtois and Huzzah Creek, I pitched my 2 and 1/2-inch pearl-colored plastic minnow imitator lure to a root-wad. A beautifully-colored goggle-eye inhaled the bait immediately. Googe-eye are the epitome of the Ozarks. They thrive in only the wildest of places and with their vivid red eyes and dark cloak, it’s no wonder that their reputation succumbed to some Ozark superstitions, which refereed to them as Devil fish. 

Soon I drifted into Huzzah Creek, where the current picked up noticeably. While the Courtois carried a few characteristics of more southern lowland streams, the Huzzah moved along at a steady clip due to greater gradients, typical of most Ozark Highland streams. 

Just below Scotia crossing, I paddled into a backwater bay, bordered by ancient limestone bluffs. Here I find gorgeous yellow water Lillies, which provide cover for marauding short-nosed gar. I managed to hook one, perhaps two-foot long. My light rod and line proved to be no match for this “Tarpon of the Ozarks.” One leap and it broke off. I had failed to bow to the king.

An hour later I had completed my mile and a half journey on the Huzzah. I entered the Meramec River to begin the third and last leg of my kayak trip for the day. The Meramec is much larger than the Courtois or the Huzzah, with much stronger currents. 

I enjoyed the current that moved my kayak along with little effort, other than an occasional paddle stroke to keep my kayak straight. 

Shortly, I pulled over on a sweeping gravel bar to prepare a lunch of bluegill and fries. A summer storm cloud thwarted my efforts. I sat in the light rain and enjoyed boiled eggs and deer sticks while I reminisced about how fortunate I have been to live near three of my favorite Ozark streams for well over 50 years. And, this day I floated all three.