I felt like there was a tickle in my throat, like I was trying to get sick, so I just took it easy today.  I slept until 1pm, so I decided the whole day was just for rest.  My friends back home decided I needed to participate in GISHWHES (the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen) even though I live on a river in a tent from a kayak. So, I spent some of the day collecting plastic trash on my little beach, and recreating (sort of) an image by astronaut Chris Hadfield, tweeting it to him, and also recreating an optical illusion in sand.  In the afternoon, I was interviewed by Katie McKy for Canoe and Kayak magazine.  She had solo paddled the Mississippi 30 years ago, and made it most of the way to New Orleans.  She suggested not stopping in any of the Illinois towns, and reminded me to be careful of the wing dams as the river gets bigger.  She said 39% of the river’s volume comes from the Ohio River, so my speed should be faster after I reach the confluence with the Ohio.  It was great talking with her, and she very encouragingly said I was doing great.

The following morning, I packed everything up, and headed into town to do some blogging. Prescott has a public dock, so I used my lock and headed into town to get some water and find some wifi.  Prescott is a very small place, and I was worried I wouldn’t find what I needed.  I first went to what I thought was a hotel, but it was an apartment building.  “WELCOME” read a big stone out front.  But the doors were locked to anyone who didn’t live there.  Ironic, I thought.  As I walked down the main street, I followed a sign for coffee (usually coffee=wifi) and was in luck!  The Twisted Oak was a great little spot for me.  I indulged in a strawberry smoothie and sat to work on their cozy couch. I stayed until closing, and finished what I was working on outside the coffee shop (yay, their wifi still worked), found some water, and headed back out.  I had only meant to stay 4 hours, but I stayed nearly 7…so the sun was setting, and I only managed to paddle a total of 4 miles today.  But I shot the photo at the top of this post, which made everything worth it.

I hope you're enjoying my blog, and that it's illuminating in one way or another.  I have been getting some great suggestions like "Please include a post about what locks are and why they exist!" or "Please include a post about what you'd do differently".  I'm working on these, and eager to please if you have other suggestions, please let me know!

Two things

1.  I am doing this Paddle On adventure/project on a volunteer basis.  I'm not paying myself.  However, I do accept and appreciate donations!  My last job was a fellowship (AKA: prestigious, but poorly paid), and I'm currently unemployed, so stopping for a drink at a cafe in order to use wifi gets pricey quick!  The donations button is on the right hand margin of this blog.  To all my kickstarter supporters--YOU ROCK!  Thank you so much, you have enabled this project to become reality.  

2. As I am unemployed, I am currently looking for my next full time job in the marine conservation arena (project manager type work preferred).  I am very well plugged in to job opportunities, but I think what would help most is if you happen to know someone at an NGO or governmental department with whom you might put in a good word about this motivated, creative woman you know who is paddling the Mississippi River documenting water quality and plastic waste ;)

Anyway, zero pressure.  I just thought I'd put it out there.  And thank you if you are able to help <3

I am often uncomfortable living on the river, but I am happy.  I am in pain.  Sitting for so long in one position with a huge bag between my legs is not my favorite.  I have dealt with hordes of mosquitos, biting flies, leeches, sand fleas, and deer flies. I’ve switched out muddy campsites for sandy campsites.  But I am happy.  I feel connected, I feel purpose-driven, I feel satisfied every day. 

I think our culture often confuses comfort with happiness.  “Standard of living” is what drives us.  But why?  We can do with so much less, and I am finding that I am so much happier surrounded by the sounds of lapping water and crickets than I ever have been surrounded by the sounds of city sirens or the tempered air of climate control.  Of course some comforts do provide satisfaction.  My favorite comforts, I have learned, are:

• Bug-free dwellings
• Living without a damp, sandy butt
• Internet
• Pillow/mattress
• Dry bedding
• Warm food, especially when sick, and
• (Duh) fuzzy buddies to cuddle with.

What are your must-have comforts?  What conveniences do you think you could live without, and do you think it might even make you happier to live without them?

Yesterday we only got 6 miles into our 13 mile paddle, so today we had to make up for it by paddling 16 miles.  But first!  I luxuriated in my new stove a little bit, making “scones” for breakfast (they were more like pancakes, but with icing instead of syrup).  Nick was very helpful, asking how to do things like take down my tent and pack things away while I cooked.  Several hours later, a chunk of dried batter peeled off my cheek.  Ah, the wonders of no mirror around.

Before we left our spot, I gave Nick the food bag that always sits between my legs, so I could feel what it’s like not to have a food bag between my legs, and he could get a feel for what it’s like to paddle in the same way that I do.  Toward the end of the day, he said, “I don’t know what’s in this thing, but it can’t be worth it.  This is terrible!”  I just laughed!  For my part, it was nice to be able to scratch one leg with the other foot, but I found that I actually don’t mind the bag being there all that much.  I’ve gotten used to it, and appreciate the stability and ballast it provides.

We arrived at Lock #1 right at 10:07, like the man told us to do last night.  We were the only two to lock through, southbound.  I could see uncle Brad and aunt Jenny up on the walkway, waving and taking pictures.  The lock dropped us 42 feet!  Impressive. 

As we passed a motorboat later that morning, I commented that I liked their pirate flag.  One of the men in the boat said, “I like your hat!  How much for your hat? I want to buy it!” I clutched it and told him it wasn’t for sale, but it tickled me that he liked it so much.  The landscape was much different than anything I’ve seen so far.  The river seemed to be in a canyon, flanked by rocky bluffs topped with roadways.  By the water there were many beaches.  We passed by one spot that must have been a large dog park.  I’ve never seen so many happy dogs.  Labradors, a Bernese mountain dog, terriers, hounds, standard poodles, mutts, shepherds…there were about 50, and they were all so happy, jumping about the beach and swimming in the water.  The Bernese was very interested in Nick and swam toward him a bit, then just followed him with his eyes, only half-obeying his owner’s calls to come. 

Further down, we encountered a couple paddle-wheel tourist boats, one playing old-time jazz and some plunky banjo music. 

Nick is a faster/stronger paddler than I, so he’d go on ahead awhile, then sit and patiently wait for me, absorbing his surroundings while I caught up. At lunchtime, we pulled up on the beach of a park in St. Paul.  We re-filled our water bottles, took a bathroom break, ate our lunch, and took a lovely little siesta in the shade.  There haven’t been spots like that where I could take rests, but I thought to myself that I must make a habit of taking such breaks if I find myself in places where I can—it really was reviving and interesting to see the land-side of what I paddled through.

Beyond St. Paul, we entered an industrial area with lots of barges alongside an airport.

That evening we opted to camp on an island near a bridge and under some electrical lines rather than continuing another 3 miles to the levee where we would meet Brad the next morning.  We set up camp on some spongy ground amongst geese poop, and enjoyed the rest of the evening, watching bald eagles fly overhead, listening to the cars speed past.  Nick built a fire as I made some food.  And who should paddle up, but Jim Lewis and his friend Dave!  We chatted and cajoled a little while—I was very glad Nick got to meet Jim and vice-versa.  Jim had a great idea for an invention—something that could be deployed by your foot:  an arm that pops up and waves to other boaters as you pass by, so you don’t have to quit paddling.  Ha ha! Brilliant.

Another paddler, a man by the name of Jon Felker, flew by in his canoe—he is also going source to sea—and he started July 17th!  I told him he was flying, and he said, “I’ve got places to be!” And, so, I am reminded, everyone’s experience of paddling the Mississippi is different.  

Today felt quintessential:  paddle boats, barges.  It’s sort of what I expected to experience, but it’s strange that it was so different from everything else I’ve experienced so far.  I wished Nick could stay longer and experience more with me, but I was glad, at least to share this. 

I started blogging and re-organizing at 5am, eagerly anticipating Nick’s (my boyfriend) arrival.  I had planned on picking Nick up with Brad in the morning and heading straight to the river, but all my reorganizing took so long we didn’t get going until 5pm.  Nick joked that he wanted as much adversity and adventure packed into the weekend as possible—storms?  Bring it!  Nick rented a kayak for the weekend and I was able to get a few camping items (mesh ditty bags to replace plastic grocery bags I’d been using, which were falling apart; a Nalgene bottle—a mouth large enough to pour protein shake mix into; and some Nik-wax to re-waterproof my tent fly). 

Truly, the first In-City paddling experience I've had.  The river here is banked by sandy beaches and sheer rock cliffs.  By the time we got to Lock and Dam #1, it was closed for the evening.  A couple drunk river paddlers were also expecting to lock through, and were vociferously upset when they realized they wouldn’t be able to make it through.  Nick and I paddled upstream to a campsite I had scouted as we paddled down.  Someone had put a long rock on its end, bolstered it with two heavy large rocks at its base, and balanced 2 large flat rocks on top, so it was like a small countertop.  A perfect place to use my new stove for the first time!  I cut up the onion that I’d had in my bag this past month, and in so doing, sliced my thumb.  Doh.  Nick finished cutting the onion, and we enjoyed a hot meal of black bean pasta with spaghetti sauce, parmesan, onions and fresh green beans from Brad’s garden.  A veritable feast! As we were cooking the drunkards showed up, cursing and angry at one another, but luckily, they were able to find a pathway through our camp, and dragged their boats up the hillside, and out of our vicinity.  So, there was no storm, but I did my best to provide Nick with adventure by having to paddle upstream to camp, deal with drunks, and bandage my thumb on the first evening.

My uncle Brad drove up with his cousin (my first cousin once removed—I looked it up) Jon Clark and while I portaged my boat below Coons Rapids Dam, Brad helped portage some of my bags.  Jon brought his hobie kayak (it’s propelled with pedals, though you can also use a paddle if you like).  We geared up and set off down the river.   The only other long paddle I have ever experienced was when I was 8 years old and Jon’s family (whose children are only slightly older than my sister and I), my family, and Brad and Jenny all went on a canoe trip in the boundary waters of the St. Croix River.  Of course, at 8 years old, the adults did most of the paddling, setting up camp, and cooking while the kids paddled when we wanted to, and played cards in camp.  It was lovely catching up with Jon and learning about his kids as adults.  We passed under several bridges, in various states of repair and disrepair (the I-35W Mississippi River bridge failed in 2007).  We encountered the first real industry I’ve seen.  I really enjoyed watching the enormous cranes work at the scrap metal recycling facility, though I was also pleased to move past it and not have to breath in the rusty dust.

I was keenly aware that in the space between Coons Rapids Dam and St. Anthony’s Dam, I saw more plastic waste than I’ve seen the entire trip so far.  It was astonishing and I had to accept that this trip can’t be about plucking everything out of the river, but just doing my best in camp, and when I happen to float right past something easy to fish out.  It’s sad. 

Once we arrived in town, we were met by my aunt Jenny and their dog Miles, Jon’s wife Donna, and their grandchildren (my 2nd cousins once removed) Eleanor (7?) and Louis (9).  We all enjoyed a delicious picnic of sandwiches on the bank as we watched some coast guard firemen run a drill with their bright red motor boat. Eleanor stared at me the way kids stare at me when I’m in full costume (for dance/contortion) with long fake eyelashes and lots of sparkles.  It’s like she was trying to figure out what would be different about someone who was doing something like I’m doing.  We totally connected when I asked what she was reading and she told me she was into Ramona Quimby.  J

After loading my kayak up, we had a nice drive to Brad and Jenny’s where I did some online banking and took a shower.  I’m averaging 1 shower every 6 days.  Then we picked Jon up again and headed over to Alyce Louise’s house in St. Paul where she hosted a cookout for me and some other paddlers, Justin Staker, Dave Blomquist and Linnea Goderstad.  I was in absolute chill-and-enjoy mode; water with ice, lime-flavored tortilla chips, veggie burger, cozy couch to sit on, interesting people to talk with… Ahhh!!  At one point, the other paddlers circled up around me and decided it was time to convince me to take the Atchafalaya River at the end instead of the over-engineered and terribly industrial “Cancer Alley” version of the Mississippi between Baton Rouge and New Orleans.  “It’s where the Mississippi wants to go; it’s beautiful bayou, and it’s a rich cultural experience.  And it goes to the gulf, so you can still go source to sea that way.”  Sold.  What a great group of people! 

When we got home, I opened a bunch of packages that had been sent to me. 
Thank you Mike for my replacement paddle gloves!
Thank you Cari for my bug repellent!
Thank you Ben for my soylent, stove, upgraded first aid kit, and visibility vest!

I started working on uploading some blog posts and re-organizing all the bags and food that I had left at Brad’s from which to reprovision…and promptly decided going to sleep was a better idea.

I enjoyed the morning in my tent talking on the phone with a couple friends. The plan was to paddle the 14 miles to the Coon Rapids Dam, have Alyce pick me up and I was looking forward to an evening of hanging out, some thai food, and maybe even some wifi.  But half-way through my paddle, she called to say she had a family emergency and wouldn't be able to join me until tomorrow evening.  Of course I was supportive, and I just called my uncle Brad to let him know the slight change in plans.  In the final mile before the dam, I reached for my map from my spray skirt pouch to see where I needed to portage and to see if there was a designated camping spot nearby (there’s not).  As I did that, my GPS slipped out, fell overboard, and sunk like a stone.  In the murky water, I only saw its bright yellow for a few seconds before it disappeared.  In shock, startled, I realized I had just lost the waypoints of data for the past month.  While I had put all my data from the water quality sonde into an excel spreadsheet the other night, I had not entered the lat/lon coordinates because the GPS holds so many more data points.  I felt like I wanted to cry, but no tears came.  I quickly realized that I could buy a new one tomorrow in Minneapolis, that I could use my phone for data points tomorrow, and that I had marked the approximate location in my data notebook for each of the points, and would likely be able to re-establish the location within a mile or two of each collection point.   Still, I felt sick about losing an expensive piece of equipment.  I felt sick about losing so much data and not having written down the lat/lon in my data notebook each time I took a coordinate.  I felt sick about how I was going to keep other things from just sinking.  I have everything tethered to my boat, and all the items in the pouch have tiny lanyards which I attach to a larger lanyard on my life vest when I use them.  I am fastidious in sticking to this protocol.  I felt helpless about this loss.  I felt briefly hopeless about my whole project.  Tears did come.  I realized I was also very hungry, and cranky about my lack of food, lost promise of Thai, and now my lost GPS.  I completed the paddle to the dam, pulled up my kayak, called Nick to decompress.  He was assuring and reminded me of all the things I first thought to myself about how it’s not the end of the world, and that there’s still over 2/3 of the river to go.  He told me to find some food.  I am now trying to hook up my phone as a hotspot so I can use my computer to order delivery food here.  I hope it works, I’m so grumbly and feeling down right now.

My phone wasn’t able to create a hotspot, I don’t know why.  I called a bunch of Thai places in the area and none of them had delivery service.  I guessed I’d just have to eat the last of my oatmeal for dinner, but then realized I was completely out of water.  As soon as I realized that, I noticed how thirsty I was.  I pulled my kayak up the bank, set up my tent, and went looking for water.  The bathroom at the visitor center is under construction, so there was no water available.  The spigot on the side of the building had a special key needed to access it.  Getting more and more tired and hungry and thirsty, I was beginning to despair, and decided I should just go to sleep and wait for morning, when things would be fresh, and my uncle was bringing water and Gatorade.  Then I realized I could call for delivery from somewhere that was NOT thai (duh, I was so stuck on Thai, and so tired and hungry I didn’t think of this other option for a long time).  So, three hours after I landed at Coon Rapids Dam, I finally had a solution in play for my dinner and quenching my thirst.  Sammy’s Restaurant is bringing me Tortellini and 7-up.  Not my finest meal, but better than dry oatmeal.  The tortellini will be warm and the 7-up will be wet.  Good enough for this tired and hungry girl.  Tomorrow I get to reprovision!

When I woke up, my sleeping bag was cozy.  My body heat dried it out over night! Today’s the first day I’ve taken a rest day without wifi, without people around.  I like it.  I had thought I’d go find wifi today, but the allure of not packing anything, and staying put and REALLY RESTING won.  I spent the morning gathering plastic trash and sparkler sticks from the beach around me. It’s been windy all day, and sunny.  Nice to look out at the river and not think, “I should be out there, making use of the flow,” but “look how pretty.  And I don’t even have to pack up my tent.”  I spent some time looking at the map, realizing I am only 25 miles from Minneapolis.  I made some plans to meet up with Alyce Louise, a woman who paddled down the Mississippi with a group last fall, tomorrow night, and to paddle from Coon Rapids Dam with her and Jon Clark (my 1st cousin once removed) on Friday, and then have dinner (THAI !!!!  I’ve been craving pad see ew) with them and some other paddlers in the area.  

There are goldfinches and monarch butterflies alighting and flitting down the edge of the water. I dug out all my food to see what I could reasonably eat for lunch, and was stoked to find one last dehydrated mashed potato packet.  I added some dehydrated leeks, mushrooms and carrots, water, and Ta-Da!  I real-ish meal. Better than the jellybeans and honey I thought I’d have to eat. For dinner, I had jellybeans and oatmeal. And chocolate.  I really don’t have much food left.

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the strobing of lightning and the rumbling of distant thunder.  I stumbled outside to put my rainfly on the tent, getting bitten by mosquitoes that hadn’t been around earlier.  Half an hour later, the storm blew in, strong. My tent was on a sand/rock spit, far from the treeline of the island I was on, and I wondered if lying on the ground made me less of a target for lightning than standing up. The wind whipped around my tent, and the storm  rained down so hard that water dribbled into my tent regularly, falling on my head and face.  Cringing and grumpy, I turned over and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.

It was still raining when I woke up.  The wind was strong, and 3 of 4 tent stakes had been pulled out of the sand, so my tent and the rainfly were slack against me and all my stuff.  There was a puddle in my tent, and everything made of fabric was soaked through. I double checked—yes, I had been smart enough to put my phone and computer and electronics inside the dry bag before I slumped into my grumpy sleep for the night.  When it was just sprinkling, I dragged everything out, one at a time, hanging all my clothes and gear on the limbs of a fallen tree nearby.  The morning sun and the wind dried most of my stuff within an hour, and I only had to pack my hoodie and sleeping bag wet. 

Once on the water, I chose my next audiobook, The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton, which I enjoyed listening to all day.  I didn’t see many people, and the paddling was easy enough today.  I did 37 miles--my longest day yet! Like the last time I did more than 20-something miles, it was sort of an accident, but luckily, it didn’t really feel like I did all that much more than 20-something miles.  The river was moving faster (there were several rapids today), it was fairly straight and though the wind was in my face some of the day, it was at my back some of the day too.

I had planned on making my way to Kris and Tom Niebler’s (river angels!) where I had been looking forward to their offers of shower, errands, and a rest day with wifi.  My phone was low on battery and I didn’t have my solar charger out since it had been threatening to rain this morning, but I made sure to get a description of their house’s location before it died. Though I had their address, my phone died before I could reference the address with my map.  And, so, as I passed their house, I somehow missed it.  And Kris said they had been out watching for me all evening, and they missed me too!  Don’t know how that happened (Yes, I’m still on the Mississippi—didn’t take a wrong turn somewhere).  But as I realized I was much too far beyond where there house would possibly be, and the sun was setting, I decided to just camp on another sand/rock spit on an island.  I like these little spots :)  So, that was the 2nd day in a row where I was supposed to meet a river angel and wasn't able to.  Paddling is a practice in releasing expectations.

First thing I did in camp was unpack my wet sleeping bag to try and get it a bit drier.  Tonight, I used some heavy rocks on the stakes since stakes in sand don’t hold as well as stakes in dirt.  After setting up the tent and eating a can of beans, I talked to my sister on the phone, complained about crawling into my clammy, damp sleeping bag, and kept yawning.  “Go to sleep!” she said.  “I can’t,” I replied, “the moon is shining so bright in my tent.  “Turn it off!” she admonished.  Ha.