Woke up with an aching body, but a soaring mind. My fingers are so swollen I'm not sure I'll be able to grip a beer tonight. That would be tragic.
We made it to Venice around 9:30 this morning and paddled about a half mile off the main channel into Cypress Cove. It was a beautiful area. There were houses lined up around the cove much like houses around a cul-de-sac. The only difference being that instead of having garages with driveways and cars there were boats and boat houses and lifts.
We tied up our canoe next to all the big, ocean bound boats and walked down the dock towards the marina. We got some snacks and chatted with the employees to get an idea as to our best course of action. Again, it was to ask somebody at the marina for a ride back up or to take our chances on finding somebody once we got down there. There was a map of the United States with pins marking where people traveled from. It was incredible to see the route we had taken from Northern Minnesota all the way down to Venice, Louisiana. I put a pin near where Rush City, MN would be and we ventured outside to ask strangers for a ride.
The first couple of people we asked could not help us out. We did end up talking to them for awhile though. Most of them were very interesting and easy to talk to. They were also very interested in our adventure and many said they would love to help out, but couldn't because they had clients to cater to.
We came to a boat and Anders had to knock on the window to get the attention of the crew. Two men came out and I could tell they were immediately interested in our trip and helping us out. They seemed very apprehensive, but I could tell they were going to have a hard time saying no. They were exchanging glances back and forth trying to read each other's thoughts when I said, "I'll give you the canoe as payment." They laughed. I wasn't joking. Earlier in the day I was trying to figure out what to do with it when we finished. It was a thought I hadn't given much attention to previously, because I was contemplating staying in Venice. That morning I decided I should go home and since then I had been on the look out for places to ditch it in the weeds.
One of the men looked at the other and asked, "Should we help them out?"
The other replied, "Yeah, let's do it."
WE HAD A RIDE BACK FROM THE GULF!!!!!!
We were incredibly happy. Smiles as big as ocean tankers spanned our faces. We both thanked them thoroughly and then answered any questions they had for us. Turns out, one of them has thought about paddling the Mississippi himself. The other has done some paddling near Lafayette, LA. I again offered my canoe as payment. The one who paddled a bit in Lafayette accepted and said, "I've always wanted a canoe." It made me happy to know she was going to a man who would appreciate her.
Venice was about 10 miles from mile zero, the "end" of the river, and the Gulf was another 8 or so miles from that. They agreed to meet us in the Gulf in three hours.
The river branches out into three main passes from mile zero. Pretty much everyone we talked to said to take the South Pass as it was free of barge and tanker traffic, was the main pass used by fishing boats, and was the shortest of the passes. We hugged the left shore as instructed and then paddled across the mouth of the eastern most pass, straight towards the South Pass. All along the way there were small openings in the river in which we could see massive expanses of water. The ocean was so close! We continued on, however, down the pass towards our designated meeting place just South of Port Eads, a docking and refueling area as well as a resort of sorts.
It was a very hot day and we were short on water. We also hadn't eaten enough. We did so well this whole trip on making sure we were fueled efficiently, but the excitement of finishing caused us to forget to eat or fill waters. A part of this is that we thought it would only take three hours to finish. It ended up taking five. The current was weak and so were we.
As we passed Port Eads we saw the boat that was picking us up. At least they had a place to hang out while waiting for us to crawl across the finish line.
Shortly after Port Eads we reached a point in which all we could see was massive expanses of water: the Gulf of Mexico. Although weak and malnourished, I felt incredible; the most alive I had ever felt. I let out the loudest victory cry of my life.
We took pictures, tried to take it all in, and waited for our ride to meet us. They soon arrived and one of them gave us a victory fist pump. A small gesture, but one that sent chills through me. We loaded our gear into their boat, strapped the canoe in, and took off for Venice. One of them asked if I thought the canoe was strapped in efficiently. I said, "I think so. If not, it's not my canoe anymore. So I'm not too worried about it." He smiled.
What took five hours in a canoe took 40 minutes in a boat with a 150 horsepower motor. We may have chosen the wrong form of transportation. During these 40 minutes we talked to our new friends. They had been given free beer while waiting for us at Port Eads. It is partly because of them that Port Eads is so busy and successful. They survey the ocean for navigation hazards and allow the channel to remain safe and busy. We were asked many questions and gladly answered all of them. We were flying pretty high with the realization of our journey's completion. We kept thanking them for helping us and they kept saying they were just happy to be a part of such an awesome accomplishment.
Shortly after unloading our gear, loading the canoe onto the surveyors truck, and saying our goodbyes, Jarred, Anders' brother, arrived in Venice. It was unbelievable how well it worked out. He drove 18 hours non-stop and arrived within 15 minutes of us getting back to Venice.
We got food at Cypress Cove. Fried alligator, catfish po boy, fried catfish, and... a cheeseburger? Real nice choice, Anders. A man overheard our conversation and we started talking to him. He was a casual fisherman in the area for the tournament that was going on. Although we only chatted for a brief time, he sneakily bought our dinner. Thank you, sir.
Our body odor pungently filling the car (sorry Jarred) we made the short drive to the city that would host our victory celebration; New Orleans. The drive back up allowed for a lot of reflection. An idea that formed in my head four years prior had come to culmination. I planned a lot and gave up a lot in order to get to this point. I saved enough money to pay for the trip as well as continue paying student loans, spent hours reading blogs and websites, studied furiously over supplies to pack, lost a girlfriend, quit a full-time job, and left an area in which I had many friends and connections. Not to mention the 50 some odd days spent paddling 2,552 miles.
I also gained a lot. New friends, incredible experiences, wonderful memories, exposure to places I had never been before, and a new appreciation for my paddling partner, Anders Carlson. We had our arguments and we both exercised a lot of self control in not strangling each other, but when it was all said and done our friendship was still very much intact. Thank you Ders.
As I walked down Bourbon Street, my body still aching, mind still soaring, beer (thankfully) fitting snuggly between my still swollen fingers, I thought about all of these things. The things I gave up can again be found. The things I gained can never be lost. I smiled. The journey was complete.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Day 53: New Orleans, We'll be Back Soon
We paddled through New Orleans early today. It was exciting to get a glimpse of the city that will host our victory party..
It was another tough day of paddling. About 75 miles. Luckily, the last 20 or 30 were much less infected by industry. The river was actually peaceful again.
The sunset was absolutely beautiful tonight. Anders had to point it out to me as I was much too tired at first to appreciate it. It was the purest shade of orange I had ever seen the sun and it lit up the entire sky. We were lucky for this as we were still paddling and the pure orange light was allowing us to scout campsites.
We found a small landing and made camp on a small flat spot made up of dirt and pea rocks. It'll do just fine for our last night on the river. Tomorrow we'll witness the sunset in a car on our way up to New Orleans. It's a crazy feeling.
One last obstacle: finding a ride back up from the Gulf to Venice. We made a bunch of phone calls today to try and arrange it beforehand, but we either got outlandish quotes ($500) or were told to ask random people at the marina. We were also told that we could probably wave somebody down for a ride once we hit the Gulf, but we don't really want to rely on chance. We'll paddle into Venice tomorrow and ask around.
It was another tough day of paddling. About 75 miles. Luckily, the last 20 or 30 were much less infected by industry. The river was actually peaceful again.
The sunset was absolutely beautiful tonight. Anders had to point it out to me as I was much too tired at first to appreciate it. It was the purest shade of orange I had ever seen the sun and it lit up the entire sky. We were lucky for this as we were still paddling and the pure orange light was allowing us to scout campsites.
We found a small landing and made camp on a small flat spot made up of dirt and pea rocks. It'll do just fine for our last night on the river. Tomorrow we'll witness the sunset in a car on our way up to New Orleans. It's a crazy feeling.
One last obstacle: finding a ride back up from the Gulf to Venice. We made a bunch of phone calls today to try and arrange it beforehand, but we either got outlandish quotes ($500) or were told to ask random people at the marina. We were also told that we could probably wave somebody down for a ride once we hit the Gulf, but we don't really want to rely on chance. We'll paddle into Venice tomorrow and ask around.
Day 52: All Day Industry
We had to deal with boat traffic all day long. Literally, the entire day. We didn't go a single second without a barge, tug, or tanker in our view. That made for constant waves and guessing at their route in order to stay out of their way. The latter is harder to do than you would think. They can turn on a dime and around here for some reason a couple have been floating completely perpendicular to the river, giving us no clues as to the direction they want to go. Then we get honked at or yelled at. You would think they would know we can't hear what they're yelling at as over their obnoxious engines.
Fed up with the constant waves, we decided to try something new. Near shore there was a line of barges parked either because they were retired or they were waiting to be used. There was a gap between the parked barges and shore about 20 feet wide. We decided to try paddling in this gap as long as it allowed. It was a huge relief. The barges blocked the waves from the boats in the main channel and, although there was not much current, it was much easier to paddle. Unfortunately this trick didn't work too long. The barge line would end or the channel would get cut off. We picked it back up when we could though to avoid the mayhem of the main channel.
It's weird paddling down here, because the levee blocks your view of anything but the river. You get the feeling that you're paddling through an unpopulated area. This was the feeling I had all day. However, when we stopped to camp and climbed over the levee there was a sprawling city in front of us. It made us nervous to camp there, but it was near sundown and we would be up and out right near sunrise.
One upside of traveling alongside boats of industry all day is the people that actually seem to know/are excited about what we are doing. A couple of people working on tugs and barges took videos of us. One tug honked, waved at us, and then gave us a loud, excited howl. Others just look up, nod, and point to us in a gesture of recognition. These small acts are great moral boosters.
We're around mile marker 104 tonight. It's Wednesday July, 23rd. Tomorrow we'll get as near to Venice as possible and on Friday we should finish.
Fed up with the constant waves, we decided to try something new. Near shore there was a line of barges parked either because they were retired or they were waiting to be used. There was a gap between the parked barges and shore about 20 feet wide. We decided to try paddling in this gap as long as it allowed. It was a huge relief. The barges blocked the waves from the boats in the main channel and, although there was not much current, it was much easier to paddle. Unfortunately this trick didn't work too long. The barge line would end or the channel would get cut off. We picked it back up when we could though to avoid the mayhem of the main channel.
It's weird paddling down here, because the levee blocks your view of anything but the river. You get the feeling that you're paddling through an unpopulated area. This was the feeling I had all day. However, when we stopped to camp and climbed over the levee there was a sprawling city in front of us. It made us nervous to camp there, but it was near sundown and we would be up and out right near sunrise.
One upside of traveling alongside boats of industry all day is the people that actually seem to know/are excited about what we are doing. A couple of people working on tugs and barges took videos of us. One tug honked, waved at us, and then gave us a loud, excited howl. Others just look up, nod, and point to us in a gesture of recognition. These small acts are great moral boosters.
We're around mile marker 104 tonight. It's Wednesday July, 23rd. Tomorrow we'll get as near to Venice as possible and on Friday we should finish.
Monday, October 20, 2014
Day 51: Forever Changing Plans
I don't even know why we try to plan when we'll finish. The plan changes every single day. More like every single hour. Today is July, 22nd. We wanted to be in Venice by the 24th so we would have time to set up a ride and enjoy the end of our journey. Now it's looking like we'll be there the 25th and we'll have to scramble to make everything work out.
I cut my finger pretty deep opening a can of pears today. I took the band aid and duct tape off 6 hours later and it was still bleeding. The river water can't be good for it. It's impossible to keep it out.
We saw our first tanker today. They're HUGE boats. They come from all over the world. Just today we saw tankers from Asia and the Netherlands. Its pretty cool to think that they came from that far away and are now sharing a river with a canoe from Minnesota.
I cut my finger pretty deep opening a can of pears today. I took the band aid and duct tape off 6 hours later and it was still bleeding. The river water can't be good for it. It's impossible to keep it out.
We saw our first tanker today. They're HUGE boats. They come from all over the world. Just today we saw tankers from Asia and the Netherlands. Its pretty cool to think that they came from that far away and are now sharing a river with a canoe from Minnesota.
Day 50: One State Left
80 miles done today. 75 yesterday. We're making very good time. It's been absolutely awful sitting in the canoe so long though. We've only been getting out once a day, for lunch.
We put Mississippi in our rearview mirror today, leaving Louisiana as the only state left to complete. It's pretty hard to fathom.
It's very hot down here. I hear it's a pretty mild summer, but still, it's hot. The sun goes down a lot earlier than up North. We have to start looking for a campsite around 7:00 as the sun starts to go down around 8:00 and its completely dark by 8:30.
We put Mississippi in our rearview mirror today, leaving Louisiana as the only state left to complete. It's pretty hard to fathom.
It's very hot down here. I hear it's a pretty mild summer, but still, it's hot. The sun goes down a lot earlier than up North. We have to start looking for a campsite around 7:00 as the sun starts to go down around 8:00 and its completely dark by 8:30.
Day 49: $7 of Ambivalence
We woke up a little sore and with very little motivation to get back in the canoe. I wonder why?
We took it a bit easier today and didn't push quite so hard. We stopped around 11:30 in Natchez, MS with the hopes of getting lunch. We pulled up to a boat landing and chatted with some people who suggested a diner right near the boat landing. They also told us about a casino buffet but were unsure as to the price. We walked to the casino to inquire about the price, fully thinking we would turn around and head back to the diner. When the man at the entrance told us the price, however, our minds were instantly made up to gorge ourselves on crummy casino food. Seven Dollars!
After three plates full of chicken, potatoes, rolls, gravy, beef tips, rice, shrimp, asparagus, zucchini, and more, I went back up for a slice of pie and ice cream. It was incredible. And it was also terrible. I loved it and I hated it. I felt instantly stronger but at the same time never wanted a nap so bad in my life. I was proud of myself for eating so much but also disgusted that all of that could fit in my belly.
Thus the ambivalence.
The rest of the day was spent trying to stay awake while paddling and trying to decide if I should ever step foot in a buffet again. The answer is probably no.
We finally got back out of the boat around 7:30 to set up camp. My legs are fully atrophied. Dinner was very light. Seven Freaking Dollars...
We took it a bit easier today and didn't push quite so hard. We stopped around 11:30 in Natchez, MS with the hopes of getting lunch. We pulled up to a boat landing and chatted with some people who suggested a diner right near the boat landing. They also told us about a casino buffet but were unsure as to the price. We walked to the casino to inquire about the price, fully thinking we would turn around and head back to the diner. When the man at the entrance told us the price, however, our minds were instantly made up to gorge ourselves on crummy casino food. Seven Dollars!
After three plates full of chicken, potatoes, rolls, gravy, beef tips, rice, shrimp, asparagus, zucchini, and more, I went back up for a slice of pie and ice cream. It was incredible. And it was also terrible. I loved it and I hated it. I felt instantly stronger but at the same time never wanted a nap so bad in my life. I was proud of myself for eating so much but also disgusted that all of that could fit in my belly.
Thus the ambivalence.
The rest of the day was spent trying to stay awake while paddling and trying to decide if I should ever step foot in a buffet again. The answer is probably no.
We finally got back out of the boat around 7:30 to set up camp. My legs are fully atrophied. Dinner was very light. Seven Freaking Dollars...
Day 48: 103 Miles!
Today is July, 19th. My 25th birthday! Better make it memorable, right?
We woke up at 4:30 as planned. What wasn't planned was that it would be too dark to get on the water until 5:45. While we waited I made coffee. It was delicious.
I wasn't totally sold on the idea of making 100 miles. I was up for giving it a shot and I thought it would be a memorable way to spend my 25th birthday, but the current hadn't been very favorable lately and our previous high mile day was 79. How were we going to squeak in an extra 21 miles? That was the equivalent of about three extra hours on the water. The first mile marker we saw was about 20 minutes downriver and was 495.8 so we knew we started around 497. Our goal was set at mile marker 397.
It wasn't until lunch that I really thought it was possible. We had kicked out 42 miles and the day was not yet half way over. Close, but not quite. We ate a large meal in anticipation of being in the boat the rest of the day and set back out.
After lunch every single paddle stroke I took I consciously put everything I had behind it. It was tough, but I knew the feeling of 100 miles completed would be worth it.
Being that it was my birthday, we stopped in Vicksburg briefly to get beer. Anders went and came back with Miller Light. For real, Ders? That's the best you could do? Despite not being excited for my victory/birthday beer I continued to push hard with each paddle stroke.
The sun went down and we had yet to hit the century mark. We knew we were close, having seen a mile marker indicating 96 or so miles awhile back. We set our course for a blinking red light, a mile marker on the Eastern shore of the river. Paddling by flashlight and headlamp we landed at the mile marker, hopped out, and read the mileage: 393.8! Although the area under the mile marker was not ideal to pitch a tent, we did so anyways. We were exhausted and didn't want to paddle blindly in hopes of finding a better spot.
Physically, it was obviously a very trying day. But what was even harder was just how mentally strong we had to be to accomplish this feat. We could have easily called it quits many times. Each paddle stroke past about 6:00 was difficult to make myself perform.
We wanted nothing to do with the beer. We were too tired and were more interested in eating a large dinner to replace all the calories we burnt. Still, we toasted to a successful day and slowly struggled through a warm Miller Light.
A quarter century old and a century paddled. It felt good.
We woke up at 4:30 as planned. What wasn't planned was that it would be too dark to get on the water until 5:45. While we waited I made coffee. It was delicious.
I wasn't totally sold on the idea of making 100 miles. I was up for giving it a shot and I thought it would be a memorable way to spend my 25th birthday, but the current hadn't been very favorable lately and our previous high mile day was 79. How were we going to squeak in an extra 21 miles? That was the equivalent of about three extra hours on the water. The first mile marker we saw was about 20 minutes downriver and was 495.8 so we knew we started around 497. Our goal was set at mile marker 397.
It wasn't until lunch that I really thought it was possible. We had kicked out 42 miles and the day was not yet half way over. Close, but not quite. We ate a large meal in anticipation of being in the boat the rest of the day and set back out.
After lunch every single paddle stroke I took I consciously put everything I had behind it. It was tough, but I knew the feeling of 100 miles completed would be worth it.
Being that it was my birthday, we stopped in Vicksburg briefly to get beer. Anders went and came back with Miller Light. For real, Ders? That's the best you could do? Despite not being excited for my victory/birthday beer I continued to push hard with each paddle stroke.
The sun went down and we had yet to hit the century mark. We knew we were close, having seen a mile marker indicating 96 or so miles awhile back. We set our course for a blinking red light, a mile marker on the Eastern shore of the river. Paddling by flashlight and headlamp we landed at the mile marker, hopped out, and read the mileage: 393.8! Although the area under the mile marker was not ideal to pitch a tent, we did so anyways. We were exhausted and didn't want to paddle blindly in hopes of finding a better spot.
Physically, it was obviously a very trying day. But what was even harder was just how mentally strong we had to be to accomplish this feat. We could have easily called it quits many times. Each paddle stroke past about 6:00 was difficult to make myself perform.
We wanted nothing to do with the beer. We were too tired and were more interested in eating a large dinner to replace all the calories we burnt. Still, we toasted to a successful day and slowly struggled through a warm Miller Light.
A quarter century old and a century paddled. It felt good.
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