‘Tween time for the James has a charm all its own

When the temperature hit the mid-70s the other day, James Wilbur and his two sons headed straight to the James River.

They body surfed in the South Richmond rapids until the October water chilled them.

"When we started to get cold, we laid on the rocks," said Wilber, 40, of western Henrico County. "Now I understand why snakes and turtles will lay on the rocks. . . . It will heat you right up."

A couple of dozen other people also took to the water, but not the hundreds you see in July.

This is'tween time for the James -- the period between the crowds of summer and the peak colors of fall.

It's a time to take that last dip, stroll among the still mostly green trees or -- as one long-haired, middle-age man did recently -- set up a chair far out on a rock and be alone.

"This is the catching-our-breath period before the next big change occurs," said Ralph White, manager of Richmond's James River Park.

That next big change is the turning of the leaves. Fall colors typically peak here from late October to early November.

"I like it ['tween time] because you've got a little bit of everything -- the warmth, that nice, decaying leaf smell, it's still sunny, and you need a blanket at night," said Barb Adams of Richmond as she prepared to lead a church-related paddling trip at Huguenot Flatwater in South Side.

The James usually runs low and clear this time of year. Walking along the banks, you can see fish such as smallmouth bass and fascinating rock formations you didn't know existed.

You can smell the cidery scent of fallen papaw fruits. You can get a sense of seclusion because the trees, still retaining most of their leaves, block the sounds of people and traffic.

This is one of the best times for mountain biking. The trails are hard, and you don't have to fight your way through crowds.

For bird lovers, this is a bittersweet time. Some summer buddies, including big fish hawks called ospreys and small golden birds called prothonotary warblers, have departed for the tropics.

But winter friends, including black-and-white diving ducks called buffleheads and little gray-and-white "snowbirds" called juncos, are returning from up north.

"I guess we could call them exchange students," John Coe, a Chesterfield County naturalist, said of the avian shift.

Chuck Frederickson works as "riverkeeper" -- he looks for pollution and conducts educational programs -- for the James from Richmond to Hampton Roads. He said "this little transition period" is probably his favorite time.

"The amazing thing is, so many people, especially down on this part of the river, get off the water," Frederickson said. "They put their boats away after Labor Day and miss some of the prettiest times of the year."

Jan Fronek, a San Diego physician visiting Richmond, was taken by the James on a recent blue-sky, half-summer, half-fall day at Pony Pasture Rapids. In Southern California, a shift in seasons means, "You might change your wetsuit when you're surfing."

At Robious Landing Park on the James in Chesterfield, salesman Richard Thomas -- "just like John-Boy Walton" -- cast his line in hopes of catching a bass.

"They're chowing down before the weather changes," Thomas said. "They have a little biological clock. They go pretty dormant in the winter."

About 85 miles west of Richmond, at James River State Park in Buckingham County, ranger Katie Sandage said, "Every season, the river has a different character to it."

In spring, the James is "very angry." In summer, there's a "party atmosphere" as low, warm water draws crowds. Winter offers "kind of a harsh beauty."

Now, Sandage said, the feeling is "relaxed, kind of kicked back."

At a boat landing in Scottsville, taxidermist Steve Morgan ate lunch in his car before a scene fit for an art gallery: The azure sky and puffy white-gray clouds were replicated, upside down, on the river's barely rippling water.

In summer, the James is a conveyor belt of tubes, canoes and kayaks. "It's nicer this time of year," Morgan said. "Less people."

Or, to paraphrase former Yankees great Yogi Berra: Everybody loves to visit the James this time of year. There's no one around.

Contact Rex Springston at (804) 649-6453 or .

Today's James River Journal installment marks an end to the series.

Photographer P. Kevin Morley and I began the journal -- a story a month for a year -- last November.

Among the things we've learned:

Some people love fishing even on a rainy December night as a big storm approaches.

You can eat an oyster straight from the James and survive.

You must eat that oyster slowly, making sure you get all its taste.

You shouldn't drink coffee before spending three hours in a blind on a winter morning waiting for an eagle to land.

You can snorkel in the city with huge catfish so docile you can touch them.

The river can look beautiful even as it fights to cope with pollution.

Mainly, we learned that people of all ethnic groups and political persuasions love the James. They love talking and reading about it.

I will miss sidling up to strangers along the James and asking them their thoughts on the river.

I won't miss rising before 4 a.m. in winter to reach some distant point before sunrise.

I will miss being there at sunrise as watermen headed out to their oyster grounds or scientists wired the explosives in their eagle trap.

The James River isn't going away, however, and neither are we. The Richmond Times-Dispatch will continue to cover the river, but not in series form. Tell us if you hear of a good story.

And the James River Journal will live on as a book, "James River Journal: A Year in the Life of a River."

-- Rex Springston