Over the river and through the woods . . .

I've owned a four-wheel drive vehicle for most of my adult life and I've taken many a questionable backroad to some really remote and lonely spots, so crossing a wet or flooded stream or two isn't new to me.

Crossing water-covered trails is always a bit scary since the top of the water doesn't really tell you where any holes are, how deep the deepest spot might be or what else might nab ya... and I've been nabbed a few times.

It ain't ever fun.

While driving from Arizona to Florida, I encountered some crazy heavy rains in east Texas which got even more intense in Arkansas and downright crazy in Mississippi. Listening to local radio, I learned that flash flood warnings had been issued for several counties, but since I had no idea where those counties were I just crossed my fingers and kept driving.

East of Texarkana, I started noticing rivers and low spots where the water was creeping up to the road bed, and in a few spots covered low spots on the shoulder, so I was hoping to just get through before the heavy rains further raised the water level.

Just a few miles east of Lewisville all traffic came to a halt.

I wasn't sure if we were stopped for road construction or maybe a rain-related slide so I sat.

After twenty minutes, a few big-rig trucks came over the hill headed my direction, so I decided to turn on my CB radio for any clues of what lay ahead.

Sure enough.

The road was flooded.

One by one, the cars and trucks in the line of traffic ahead of me made it to the top of the rise, talked to a road department flagger and came back west down the hill.

When it was my turn to talk to the flagger, she told me the water was "up to the lights on the 18-wheelers" and that they were advising all vehicles except the big rigs to find alternative routes.

I looked quickly at my map and didn't find any nearby backroads so I asked her what "alternative routes" there were.

She just shrugged her shoulders and said "I don't know."

I told her I was going to try crossing it and if there was no on-coming traffic would 'wade' into it until I crossed my comfort level.... and either would ford ahead or "I'll be back" (in my best Arnold impersonation.)

I drove over the hill and sized-up the flood zone.

It appeared to be about 500 feet across, was all, and since nobody was coming from the other direction I waded in.

At first the water level was pretty minor, only coming up to the lock-out hubs on my tires. "If it don't get much deeper than that, this'll be a piece of cake" I thought to myself. "Of course, I'm only 50 feet into that 500-foot stretch."

I slowed way down, so as not to create a leading surge and make matters worse and watched the water level inch higher, first reaching the top of the rim then the top of my tires.

I was nearly half-way across when the water reached the driver's side door and I was torn whether to forge ahead and hope it didn't get any worse.

Turning around would have been tricky, even being in the middle of the road as I was and backing up might have let water enter my exhaust system -- which was already bubbling underwater and making an eerie drowning sound -- and maybe stalling the engine.

If the water got any deeper ahead, though, and the water might have entered the pickup bed where I was carrying a lot of electronic equipment for the house in Florida.

I decided to go for it.

I edged ahead and the water started seeping ever so slightly under the door and I was genuinely concerned but there was no turning back now.

I edged ahead, with only 150 feet to the far side.

The water started receding... and I let out a nervous sigh of relief.

I crept ahead and the water level kept dropping until I finally reached the dry road at the bottom of the next rise.

I pulled up and stopped, thinking I would get my videocamera out of my backpack, which was located in the back of my truck when over the hill came an Arkansas State policeman.

Not wanting to even TALK to that clown, I decided to pass on taking photos or videos of the place I'd just crossed.

Policemen and I mix like oil and water.

We don't.

I fired up the engine and just kept going.

The policeman stopped at the water's edge and never moved until he was out of sight as I passed over the next hill and saw another line -- of westbound -- traffic also deciding what to do.

The CB radio blared with truckers saying "Hey, that dude in the Toyota pickup crossed. Hell, I can too then."

I never lingered to hear how many others might have crossed because I did... and the water never came up to the level of "the headlights of an 18-wheeler," but it sure gave me a flash from my younger days when crossing streams and rivers was something I did a lot more often...

... and felt a lot more daring doing.

I drove from Vicksburg to Hattiesburg in the dark that night on some backroads and some four lane highways and my palms were sweaty the whole way. I never encountered any more flooded roads and thank god.

Crossing a flooded road in the daylight was one thing.

Crossing it in the dark would have been another.

Whew!

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