My eyes cracked open to a dim pre-dawn sky above the sandbar on which I camped. This would be the final day of this memorable and continually developing journey down the Mother River and I felt uncomfortably satisfactory. Very rarely do my trips terminate at a random spot along the trail, yet here I was planning to pull off before the river's end. After two and a half months travelling over 2200 miles, I had yet to reach the Gulf of Mexico but had at least reached "second base" on my first date with Ol' Miss. Staring at the mangled mosquito mosaic across the mesh of my tent, I thought about the physical and mental endurance of a trip like this. I came close to my physical limit early on in the trip when I overexerted myself and took a week to fully recover. The stamina to keep my mind engaged and enjoying the adventure in the face of sweltering heat, terrifying tornadoes and rhythmic paddling was often a surprise to myself.
"This too shall pass"
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" "F*ck it! Let's go!"
These would probably be the phrases repeated most in my times of stress.
Draped over a small willow beside my rent is the once bright white long sleeve synthetic shirt I've worn for 75 days straight. I can almost smell the sharp sour tang of the stained and torn rag of a shirt that remained. Sand scratched at my side on the air mattress as I packed up the gear inside and a large part of me missed the idea of sleeping on it again tonight. A shower, full meal, cold beer and soft bed shall be my reward for the expedition and would be here soon enough. The sight of my canoe tied up high along the magnificent river underneath the reddening sunrise reflected warm on the water and my heart. Each day is a gift and within there are many faces to the water and the sky. To me, reaching the "end" of the river became a geographical falacy in the perpetuity of life. The river flows downstream but the sky keeps it full.
"This too shall pass"
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" "F*ck it! Let's go!"
These would probably be the phrases repeated most in my times of stress.
Draped over a small willow beside my rent is the once bright white long sleeve synthetic shirt I've worn for 75 days straight. I can almost smell the sharp sour tang of the stained and torn rag of a shirt that remained. Sand scratched at my side on the air mattress as I packed up the gear inside and a large part of me missed the idea of sleeping on it again tonight. A shower, full meal, cold beer and soft bed shall be my reward for the expedition and would be here soon enough. The sight of my canoe tied up high along the magnificent river underneath the reddening sunrise reflected warm on the water and my heart. Each day is a gift and within there are many faces to the water and the sky. To me, reaching the "end" of the river became a geographical falacy in the perpetuity of life. The river flows downstream but the sky keeps it full.
Bonne Carre Island back channel
Paddling through the morning,involved multiple tankers, a few blind corners and many active tugboats along the west shore fleeting zones. Considering the two barges being towed into my path by an upstream tug, my eyes scanned the gaps in the fleeted barges for a perfect fit, a nautical Tetris. Keeping left I steered clear and reflected upon how much instinct is built upon river experience and powers of anyltical prediction.
After Bonne Carre point, I passed between the rust coated fleet of barges and up to the last island on the Mississippi. The back channel of Bonne Carre Island was resplendent with squirrel, armadillo, turtles and alligator. A 15ft tall willow bent and I glanced up to see a snake falling with a splash into the mirror surface. It was a fitting moment of calm and collection amid the turmoil of the shipping channel and although I could hear the diesel engines humming away, I felt far removed. Here in this miniature wilderness among the chaos, my mind drifted to Minnesota and the grassy camps of the upper portions. I thought of how far I had come and how content I was with the final few miles of easy paddling among moored tankers along the spillway.
After Bonne Carre point, I passed between the rust coated fleet of barges and up to the last island on the Mississippi. The back channel of Bonne Carre Island was resplendent with squirrel, armadillo, turtles and alligator. A 15ft tall willow bent and I glanced up to see a snake falling with a splash into the mirror surface. It was a fitting moment of calm and collection amid the turmoil of the shipping channel and although I could hear the diesel engines humming away, I felt far removed. Here in this miniature wilderness among the chaos, my mind drifted to Minnesota and the grassy camps of the upper portions. I thought of how far I had come and how content I was with the final few miles of easy paddling among moored tankers along the spillway.
A mobile apartment ship for the oil rigs?
I was soon downwind of the noxious DowChemical factories and not regretting the missing 127 miles of waterway left to be paddled. Styrene barges passing gave me a headache and I worried about the serious levels of unhealthy particulate matter in the air. Yesterday I spotted a hill over 200 ft tall built of rubble dotted with yellow earthmoving equipment. It's home to a carcinogenic metal refining waste that is also radioactive. If the remaining stretch of river was wild, I'd jump at the chance to paddle to its mouth and dive into the expansive Gulf. Up ahead were the crumbling remains of the flood scoured boat ramp, an unlikely but remarkably appropriate finish line.
I had made it...here?
Yes. I was content to know that the journey was within and without, another life experience to grow upon, another region explored. Although the boat will pass on to new hands, I'm excited for the next adventure. As Dave Grohl said, "Done, done and I'm on to the next one."
See you shortly ;)
I had made it...here?
Yes. I was content to know that the journey was within and without, another life experience to grow upon, another region explored. Although the boat will pass on to new hands, I'm excited for the next adventure. As Dave Grohl said, "Done, done and I'm on to the next one."
See you shortly ;)
My takeout near the spillway
Fish Poboy and a Landshark to celebrate
RSS Feed
