I grew up on Bull Shoals Lake where my parents and Aunt & Uncle owned Beaver Creek Boat Dock. One Sunday afternoon in March, we didn’t have to work because very few fishermen were willing to go out with the high winds and whitecaps. So, my brother, cousins, and I took a box kite and a deep sea reel to the Twin Pond Field overlooking the Rubidon Branch some hundred feet below. We were able to let out almost 200 yards of line in the brisk wind. The box kite was barely visible against the wispy clouds and blue sky. It was so much fun; we didn’t realize it was a foreboding of a major winter storm headed our way.
The next morning, we woke to dense, low-hanging clouds. By afternoon, heavy snow began to fall and continued through the evening. After supper, Dad told us that we would need to “push the docks”. For those unfamiliar with floating boat docks, “pushing” meant we would climb onto the roof of the docks with a 12-foot 2×4 board with a a piece of plywood nailed to the end. The plywood was a rectangle measuring about 12-inches high by 24-inches long. The goal was to balance on the ridgeline of the roof and push the snow drift from the leeward side of the roof into the lake. It was a strenuous, treacherous task to balance on the aluminum roof and avoid slipping into the lake with the snow.
The four of us – my Dad, Uncle, brother, and I began pushing around 6:30 that evening and continued until about 1:00 am. At that time, we owned at least eight boat docks where boats floated underneath the roof with a narrow gangway on each side of the floating dock. If we didn’t push the snow, the weight would submerge the leeward side until the roof collapsed under the load and angle of the supports. Each dock was approximately 100-feet long with ten boats each. So, we pushed all 800-feet of roof taking breaks to warm and rest between each dock. While taking breaks, Dad would tune his small transistor radio to the AM station in Tulsa Oklahoma. After the second round of pushing each dock, Dad announced that “It has stopped snowing in Tulsa; I think the docks can handle it now and we can go home”. Dad somehow knew that weather in the Ozarks came from the southwest.
When the roads were cleared after several days, we returned to school. Most of my classmates talked about how much fun they had playing in the snow. I sat quietly thinking about the night we spent protecting the docks and thanking Jesus that none of us slipped and fell into the icy waters.
Bradley Roberts Wyatt 