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The second half of the trip is recorded as follows. |
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7/18/10 |
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I set out at a brisk pace hoping to speed through the city of St. Louis. I felt good for the first couple hours; it was a Saturday, but there were very few people on the water becuase they had no safe way to get to their boats. It was me and the barges, and the barges had grown. The tow boats no longer pushed 15 barges but now moved up to 30, mush larger wakes, choppy water, and a faster flow had me excited. I took a left into a canal that had a sign that said, "CANAL- All Boats Enter Here." I regretted it. I had just gotten onto the most mentally painful part of the trip. Me, barges, concrete, no current, nothing to look at, extreme heat, low food, and no visible end. The worst part: I knew that less than a mile away, the river flowed freely, maybe even at the fastest pace I have seen. I had technically made the right choice to enter the canal, the last lock of the river let me pass after hours of waiting. I got on the real river again and headed toward the St. Louis Arch.
This was the river I had been warned of. The current was fast and the eddy's spun me out of control. The barges were rough and aggressive and I was going about 8 mph. The bouys that guided me were tossed up on the opposite shores and I witnessed two of them get sucked underwater infront of my very eyes. I paddled 23 miles in the dusk/dark to Hoppie's from the Arch.
Hoppie was an impressive fellow and his wife Fern seemed to be made of the same stuff as him. See Joe's Journal for more on him.
I was directed toward a shower before bed. I turned on the faucet and was showered in a lukewarm stream as I began to lather on the shower gel. In moments, the experience soured as the water took on a wretched stench of sulfur. I was stranded in my soapyness. I had no choice but to let the water cover me. I questioned whether this shower counted when I exited smelling debatable worse than when I entered.
There were storms in the morning. I listened to the bustle around Hoppie's and set out at 2 pm to do 37 miles. I traveled fast and barely found Joe in the flooded ferry parking lot. I just ate a large dinner in a delightful diner and scouted out the routes of many days to come. The river should be able to pull me with its flooding and now I might get in those 75 mile days I dreamed of.
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7/21/10 |
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The mile markers have been counting down until the end of Illinois. We currently have our tent up right below the ".8" marker. This means that the mile markers should start up at around 900 as they count down to the Gulf. I have gone through about 125 miles in the last two days and my fingers are swollen and stiff. The water is flowing fast still, but the hours are going by very slowly. The wind is blowing hard, the sun is beating down, and there is nothing to entertain my thoughts on the water. The shore is too far to make out any distinct figures and there are no more recreational boaters to wave at.
It is hard to complain with the water moving so fast, and I am grateful. I have been thinking about my friends and family. I might be bored and lonely, but I would never admit it to anyone but you, my secret diary.
P.S. Joe just told me to elaborate on sore fingers: I can't make a fist or straighten all of my fingers. My right hand ring finger is the worst, it is swollen and I am sure has some stress fractures. I have trouble picking up the boat by the handle in the morning just to drag it into the water with either hand, and my penmanship is noticeably worse. I hope that there is no lasting damage/ arthritis in my near future. |
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7/29/10 |
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The last few nights have had very poor internet connection, and tonight I have a headache that could take the plates of the armadillo I chased earlier. Sorry, but I will have to document the days gone by later. 537 Miles to the Gulf if I go the long way. |
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7/31/10 |
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We left off at New Madrid, I pulled in late and tired, to a large boat launch and walkway along the shore. The tent was set up right under the sign that faced the water. Our campsite looked like an advertisement for urban camping. The bugs were fierce as usual, so I jumped right into the tent, ate dinner, killed mosquito's, and received some very bad news from Joe. He said that he thought he might have left the video camera in Cairo. This was quite a painful blow. The camera was so young, with so much life capturing ahead of it. I had already done a good deal of daydreaming about the adventures the hardy lil guy could record. He planned to go back in the morning to try to recover it.
The morning came and so did the discovery that we had a distinctly potent odor. A remedy was found after a failed attempt to enter a country clubs swimming pool. A self service carwash is a fairly cost effective way to powerwash off that layer of river grime. Some would say that this solution is stooping too low. I say that the water was warm, the cost was less than most campsites charged for their showers, and although not quite private, the wax left my hair feeling conditioned. We employed this shower method again at a later date. This time there were other people washing there cars around us. Joe suggested that we giggled and pretended like we were having a play water fight. This was serious, no playing.
Next night was Caruthersville. I emerged (sorry for cutting out all of the paddling details but there aren't many,) next to a granary. I approached the support vehicle as two athletic gentlemen came by and spied the boat. Conversations go the usual way. They were police officers there and they said that if I left the "She-Knows-Who-She-Is" there, that in the morning, all that would be left would be the chain and lock that I hoped would hold her. (I don't think they realized that we planned on camping literally right where we were standing.) So they offered to keep the kayak at the police station where it would be safe. We took them up on it. We then toured the city, unsure of where to camp now. Dinner was our default: Chinese Buffet. Another excellent fortune for me, "When the time comes pick the one on the end farthest to the left." We set the tent in the dark next to a field of what we found out later to be cotton. I picked up the ship in the morn and headed downriver.
In no time I was in Memphis Tennessee. The kayak went on top the van and we drove it to a hotel we had gotten cheap for the night. Our room was on the first floor and the kayak followed us into the room for safe keeping. I always have lofty dreams of what I would do in a hotel; blog, bathe, charge electronics, really get the most of the experience. Usually, the time just flies away and I am back on the water before I know it. We got lost multiple times driving in the city of course. We got a bit of local cuisine with a shoulder barbecue sandwich, delicious but my hunger was not satiated. We passed a sign that said "You can't run away from it all. But you can paddle." It had a picture of a kayaker, I felt supported and disappointed that these posers hadn't shown me one other paddler. In fact, I haven't seen another kayak since.... well, a long time.
At the next campsite we saw some one with an air conditioner pumping into their tent. I was a little jealous I'll admit. I had never thought of that before as an option. I met some fishermen. They were mostly after catfish, but they held a vast knowledge of the workings of the local river and animals there. It was nice to receive encouragement and knowledge from fellow enthusiasts.
The big miles for the next day were cut short by some fierce storms. I did about 25 miles and called it quits. (Lots of lightning.) I met the van. Which was promptly directed into a bank of sand where we became stuck for several hours, digging and throwing brush and rocks under the sunken tires. A big pickup truck came by and pulled us out, saving us hours more of work and probably money for a tow truck in the end. Big thank you if you are reading.
Next day headed for Greenville. Upon arrival we had the frog photo shoot and so on. I had 50 miles planned for the next day. I had low supplies in the kayak, but enough to get me there. Can of soup, bag of chips, and some water. Well, really long story short. The van had troubles, I missed the town because it was covered by an island, and I decided to continue on to Vicksburg.
Vicksburg was a supposed 35 miles away. I stopped at a house and filled up water. It was getting dark and I had a long way to go to meet up with Joe. Vicksburg was actually 50 miles away. I learned this after paddling for another 6 hours when I came to a mile marker right outside the city. It said 437. I had started that day at 537. I was dehydrated, hungry, and oh so sleepy. I pulled up next to a casino at 4:30 a.m. and asked for sleep. I received mosquito's. I went in the casino and sulked in the lobby until the breakfast buffet opened at 7. And I have been there ever since. No just joking.
We got a hotel, caught up on much contact, and now, after over 40 hours, I shall sleep. I have about a week left. Good night.
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8/1/10 |
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We have arrived in the historic town of Natchez. After a sweltering night in the van, I moved to the boat at 6:30 a.m. On the 18 mile trip to Natchez I passed some other kayaks. They welcomed us to town, invited us to their saloon and offered to put us up for the night.
It is Joe's birthday tomorrow. And so we shall take advantage of the air conditioning that Adam (a previous solo kayaker of the Mississippi river) suggested in his spare room. They run a hot race around here in October 45 miles with competetors from around the world. We need to socialize before we start our week of wilderness, so goodbye for now.
P.S. Joe found the video camera in the van. But he lost our tent. |
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8/5/10 |
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The air conditioning was enchanting, in fact, I slept until noon on the sofa provided by Adam. We had stayed up until the wee hours swapping stories and discussing future plans. I had decided on the Atchafalaya route and had a about a 60 mile paddle to arrive at the lock that held the main flow of the Mississippi back. I got to the lock at about 12:30 at night and the massive gates that towered above me creaked open. The hinges and the floating roller ties groaned and whistled as the water retreated. It was a surreal experience in the night; the tops of the walls moved from 30 to 60 feet away and the long echoing corridor was interpted by the splaching of huge fish finding a midnight snack. If I recorded sounds, this would have been an excellent place to turn the mic on. I should have taken a video, but I am sure that all of the subtlety would have been lost, ruining the experience. When the doors opened, I was released into the warm, green water of the bayou.
I recieved some very good information about this region of the world that I will pass along. Lawrence E. Neil, "a fellow adventure (mostly in the southwest and arid west) in my younger days. Have been enjoying your journal and am quite envious of what you are experiencing.
For the last 40 years we have lived on the Texas Gulf Coast close to Galveston. I retire from Dow Chemical as a Research Scientist and hold degrees in Biology (with emphasis in the field of wildlife) and Chemistry (to support my family) I'd like to pass on some advice to you that might make your adventure somewhat less hazardous.
The mosquitoes can be so thick that they will literally turn your whole body, clothed and exposed, black. I have been in situations, dove and bird hunting, where it was 105 degrees F and had to ware a pair of Army fatigue pants over my jeans and my Army field jacket to keep the swarms of misquotes from eating me alive through my clothes. Gauze, wide enough to go over your nose and across your mouth and tied around your head will make it possible to breath when you get into a swarming situation like this and you are in deep do-do if you don't have insect repellent and the gauze already on hand in case the situation arises. Gulf Coast Marsh Mosquitoes are huge and will take 1/2 cc of blood out of you every bite.
Next thing that you probably never experienced is the 95 - 100% humidity that goes along with the stifling heat down here. Often it gets worst after the sun goes down. Unless there is a good breeze, your sweat does not evaporate to help cool off down your core body temperature. You may need approx. a qt. an hour of Gator Aid to maintain you electrolyte balance. Heatstroke is a real possibility when you are exerting in the sun. Know the systems and don't take any chances; At least pull over and get in the shade to give your core body temp. time to cool down. Oh yeah, the mosquitoes are going to bethicker in the shade than out in the sun. Refer to precaution above.
That brings me to the next real danger you will face in the south. Cottonmouth Water Moccasins. rattlesnakes and copper heads. These are all poisonous/ The Cotton mouth will be im the water and on land around the banks of the river. Beating the water with your paddle before getting out of your boat and the water around and in front of you as you wade to shore will help scare them off. Rattlesnakes will occasional skim or float on the water and will climb onto your boat if given a chance, but the real threat from rattlesnakes and copperheads is on land, especially in shady areas that you are trying to get to when you are suffering from heat exhaustion and not as alert as normal. Copperheads life to bury themselves in the leaves so poke around with a stick before sitting.
No walking around at night without a light. These snakes hunt at night. One last note, there are a slew of harmless black water snakes, Natrix, that most people think are cottonmouths. They will strike at you if cornered; to be safe, scare them all away but do not kill them.
Coral snakes are another possible but less likely threat because their mouths are so small that they just about have to get you in a fold of skin to knaw poison into you;, they don't have fangs. Just remember: Red and yellow, kill a fellow. Yellow and black, friend of jack (King snakes, milk snake, corn snakes).
Next up, alligators. Alligators are plentiful down here and get up to 18' long. They are not a big threat to you but the big uns will lay below the surface of the water close to shore in wait for deer or wild/farrow hogs. These big gators can spring up 5' up, out of the water and some 7' - 8' onto shore. Again, your paddle or even a longer stick splashing the water can scare them off.
Not trying to scare you; just given you a head-up in an area where I have some experience. All of us, when we are young, think we are bullet proof but a little knowledge helps make God's work a little easier."
Well, he is right on with his warnings. I have now experienced all of these critters and physical dangers. They are no joke, and without constant vigilance, any one variable could end your walk in the woods. Tonight, I had to paddle into the dark, and there was more than one encounter with the tell tale red glowing eyes of the alligators.
There is an upside. The water is flowing faster here than I expected. Most likely, by the time you are reading this (unless you are a true fan or insomniac), I have reached the Gulf of Mexico and completed my trip. Hopefully I will be headed home for more than one night in my bed and air conditioning (is it even hot up there?)
Will |
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8/7/10 |
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I arrived back to my home in Elgin, Il. after completing the kayaking trip on August 5th. I am all safe and sound, and busy unpacking. The details will soon be recorded. Sorry to keep you in suspense. |
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8/13/10 |
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Well well well...here we are one week later, and I am back in contact after plenty of procrastination. I have saved the story of the last two days, the most exciting two days, until now.
8 p.m. Aug 4th. I cut off the main channel towards a lake like area that Joe waited at the end of. The water became stagnant and shallow. Darkness fell with a blanket of mosquitos. Large fish darted to the surface and splashed at the boat and bit at my paddle. I put on my spray skirt and a water proof shirt to help keep the bugs off, but only slow cooked myself in the 90+ degree heat. There were no bouys to guide my way and I was in the real bayou now. I put on my headlamp only to see a set of red beams shining back at me. I had heard the rumours of these glowing "Christmas lights." I was paddling right by an alligator.
I put on my life jacket. A big fish could have knocked me out of my boat, and I did not want to be swimming in this warm crowded water. After a couple of hours of paddling I called Joe and told him to turn on the headlights of the car. The lights came one exactly perpendicular to me. If we hadn't talked to eachother at that moment, I would have been lost; paddling all night in the dangerous water.
As I approached the cove around the boat launch, Joe called me in. He couldn't see from his perspective the three large gators circling directly between me and the shore. I hesitated, worried that my strokes sounded more like fish than a large kayak. Then I went for it; paddling full speed for the shore telling Joe to pull the boat up immediately.
Once in, we got up on a high dock and spotted the red eyes. One red eye would shine, thenblink, then the other eye would open. Even camping 50 yards from theses beasts could not keep me from the sleep needed to fuel my last day on the Mississippi.
There were thirty some odd miles between me and the pick up on the Gulf. I passed cyprus trees and floating plants as the clouds brought the tempurature down to a bearable level. Indeed, this was one of the best days to paddle in a long while. I entered a canal that I could see no end to. I passed under some low bridges that barges could not have shipped through. The banks were close together and the vegetation was tropical. Large lush green leaves covered the area and dark sand poked out of the shore in certain points. There on the sandy outcroppings were huge lizards basking as the sun made an appearance. These alligators varied in length from a couple feet to over 13 feet long. I had only the video camera with me so I paddled close to the banks braving the agressive splashes of the gators as they snapped thier jaws and lunged into the water to perry me away. I kept my distance and the photos suffered.
Heat waves rose off the water so that I could only see some 50 yards ahead of me. The land naxt to me petered out slowly from trees to shrubs to grass to mud to nothing. Was I at the Gulf? No, just a little farther. Two alligators said goodbye as I passed beyond the mouth of the river. I dipped my fingers in the water and touched them to my tongue, hoping to taste the brackish beauty of the Gulf. No such luck. Either my taste buds were broken or the water was playing a trick on me as the next twenty times I attempted the same manuever I recieved the same results.
I saw the van on the shore just after the sun had set. We put everything into the van quickly, the bugs unbelievably bad. There was no reason to stick around to celebrate victory. We began our drive back to our home.
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