We took a field trip with Dean and Eric to the Swiss Valley Nature Center where we enjoyed the nature center itself, and then took a brief walk down to the creek where Dean did a benthic invertebrate search to show us how the types of invertebrates found can be used as indicators for the health of the water.  

When I spoke earlier with Chuck Isenhart and Dean and Eric, they shared with me a great deal about the water quality issues of Iowa.  Since 1993, Dubuque has declared itself a national disaster area  8-9 times due to flooding.  Therefore, Dubuque is trying to work on decreasing flooding by implementing some of these tactics:

• Sediment ponds and flood control structures
• buffers along rivers to sink water
• take land out of production
• use flowering plants and sedges along waterways rather than other crops
• filter and impound water
• stormwater ordinances
• bioswales and permeable pavers to replace asphalt

Thirty-one states and 2 provinces drain into the Mississippi River, and Minnesota and Wisconsin are considered to be leaders in protecting their lakes, but all the states in the Mississippi River watershed do things differently, and assuming all MN and WI's tactics is not as easy as saying they should.  Political pushback can be great in some of these states because the culture is one of fearing that someone will dictate what the land can be used for. What is crucial is working together across boundaries to use rational boundaries instead.  Rather than dictating what farmers can do with land, legislators want to implement a "we'll help you if you help yourself" planning principle.  Looking at the ecology as a whole, not just measuring nitrogen run-off, is one way to encourage and measure solid planning. 

Chuck Isenhart was clear about a few points: 

• We are being proactive in the area
• We are building partnerships in the area to deal with issues
• These are BROAD issues--we are looking to deal with ALL of the potential problems, not just a few
• For long term changes, we all need to talk about current practices that generate the problems.
  
  

Words matter.  That's what Jonathan Brown, our tour guide and plant manager, reminded us.  The plant that we toured used to be called the Water Pollution Control Plant, but that implies a negative.  Instead, the plant is now focused not on reducing pollution but recovering water and other byproducts of sewage waste; hence its name: the Water and Resource Recovery Center (WRRC).  It's a mindset change:  sewage is not just waste to throw away, it has important and valuable resources worth recovering.  

Until 1956, Dubuque's sewage flowed directly into the Mississippi River, untreated.  In addition, industry like meat packing companies would discharge their waste (including grease and blood) directly into the river.  A sewage treatment plant was built in 1956, and its efforts were redoubled with advent of the Clean Water Act in 1972.  At that time, the WRRC's influent saw 2000mg/L of biochemical oxygen demand (BOD) and had an effluent of 300-400mg/L BOD.  At that time, Dubuque's population was close to 750,000.  The population is much smaller now, about 60,000.  Currently, influent measures 300-400mg/L BOD and effluent measures just 10 mg/L BOD.  Thus, the effluent from the city has greatly improved over the past 40-50 years.  

So how is this all achieved?  Sewage is treated in a series of 4 pools and chambers which successively heat and then cool and stabilize the inflent rendering the material cleaner.  Anaerobic digesters release methane which is cleaned and used to power micro turbines which heat 75% of the plant.  This methane recovery saves $250,000 per year in electricity and reduces the plant's carbon footprint.  The anaerobic digesters also yield high quality biosolid for farmland.  Biosolid is very similar to compost, but comes from human waste rather than vegetable matter.  Adding biosolid to the land improves the tilth of the soil, increases organic matter and allows for slow nitrogen release. Liquid effluent is water with only 10 mg/L BOD and is released into the Mississippi River.  

The WRRC's goals are 
#1: Improve public health
#2: improve health of the environment
#3: give back by regaining good from the process (water, energy, biosolids).  WRRC is still working on decreasing the amount of N and P released into the environment, but the expensive infrastructure (they've invested $70 million and need several more million dollars to reach all their goals) only recovers and cleans so much.  WRRC is hoping to eventually be able to recover phosphorous from waste water too, so that doesn't go into the river.  Currently, phosphorous used in fertilizer is mined, so it has economic worth.  As phosphorus is the limiting factor for algal blooms, removing it from wastewater effluent would help in decreasing the size of the Gulf of Mexico's Dead Zone.  Though it must not be forgotten that phosphorous comes much more from agriculture than wastewater.  Indeed, money invested upstream (decreasing N and P used in the first place) will likely be wiser and more effective in the long run. 

When asked about plastics, Jonathan Brown said that macroplastics are filtered out, but that there are no microplastic filters at WRRC.  Small pieces of plastic likely get rolled into the biosolids, or else exit in effluent.  He also expressed his dismay for "flushable" wipes.  "Yes, they're technically flushable--they will go down your toilet, but they don't break down easily and they clog our filters all the time."  (Hint:  Don't use "flushable" wipes!!!) 

Today was an intense and amazing day.  We were camped behind a dumpster at the Yardarm/Dubuque Marina, and the first thing we heard was the BEEP BEEP BEEP of a huge truck backing up.  It was a porta potty truck (whose slogan was "Come potty with us") Jake yelled "HEY HEY HEY" while clapping to get the guy's attention.  He stopped backing up for a second and said, "I see you.  That was a shitty wake-up call." (bah-dum-psh!)

I walked to a nearby cafe to have breakfast with Chuck Isenhart, Iowa House Representative, and he introduced me to water quality specialists Dean Mattoon and Eric Schmechel of the Catfish Creek Watershed Management Authority, a tributary of the Mississippi River.  We talked for a while about water quality issues in Iowa and the Mississippi River, and then headed out for a day of tours:  Water Resource Recovery Center, Swiss Valley Nature Center, and the National Mississippi River Museum.  

That evening, Eric picked us up from the museum and we went to the grocery, headed back to his house where we had tacos and a really really fun evening with his family (Meredith, his wife, Frankie and Everett, their children, Pam, Meredith's mom, and Nancy, Pam's highschool friend and Meredith's best friends' mom).  Dean and his wife showed up later, and they enjoyed a jolly time downstairs with Eric, Jake and Julie, while I stayed up and worked on blogs and drank tea with Meredith and Pam and Nancy.  Pam and Nancy talked all about their hobby (scrapbooking), and made me a cool page for my journal! And we got to spend the night indoors.  We had such a wonderful time there, THANK YOU, river angels!!!

One of the several organizations I'm partnering with on this journey is Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation, or ASC.  This organization mobilizes the outdoor community to gather and share scientific data, driving conservation around the world. They have several projects running at any one time, and I was lucky to find them the year that ASC is collecting microplastic data in freshwater waterways around the world, as it aligns perfectly with the mission of my journey.  

In two years of research, ASC has found microplastics around the world, in some of the most remote oceans. These plastic particles attract toxins like DDT and BPA, and then enter the food chain when ingested by aquatic life. With this information, ASC recently expanded the project to freshwater, because data in that field is lacking. A 2015 report compiled by the GESAMP called microplastic pollution “an emerging issue of international concern.” Microplastics are particles of plastic less than 5mm in size, which have been shown to be highly prevalent in marine environments (Cole et al., 2011). Microplastic particles can act as a mechanism for the transfer of persistent organic pollutants (POPs) into marine organisms (Zarfl and Matthies, 2010) and in turn are harmful to the marine food web and may increase public exposure to toxins (Wright et al., 2013; Chua et al., 2014). It is believed that microplastics are doing similar harm in freshwater environments, but there is a need for further scientific exploration.

ASC has four teams of Mississippi River paddlers contributing to the ASC Microplastics Project this summer! Emily Stifler Wolfe of ASC says, "What a cool opportunity to gather a really valuable dataset that can be used to leverage a reduction in plastic pollution."  Emily also offered, "You are the ideal adventurer for ASC: You're competent in the outdoors, you're on an extended expedition on which you'll be able to gather otherwise unobtainable data, and you're creative, so you can help us spread the word about our work."  I am super happy to be contributing to this effort, and look forward to volunteering my time to write the paper that will accompany all this freshwater microplastics data collection.  

Adventurers and Scientists for Conservation (ASC) is a nonprofit organization whose mission is to mobilize the outdoor community to gather and share targeted scientific data, catalyzing conservation efforts worldwide. A trained wildlife technician and notable explorer, named “Adventurer of the Year” in 2008 by National Geographic, Gregg Treinish established ASC in 2011 to offer outdoor adventurers a way to help protect the natural world they loved. Since its foundation, ASC has sent thousands of athletes to collect data for hundreds of scientists working on seven continents and in all five oceans. These partnerships have led to the discovery of more than a dozen new species, provided key information to guide climate change decisions, and helped protect threatened wildlife habitat. In total, ASC has saved the conservation community millions of dollars by mobilizing volunteers, while also providing a unique learning and engagement experience for project participants. Our work has been featured in more than 100 media outlets. In the year 2015, ASC has already saved the conservation community 3005 days of work through the efforts of its extensive volunteer network.

People often wonder, “Aren’t you scared?” Especially as a lone female, they intone.  I wonder, in return, what is there to be scared of?  The elements can be fierce, and in the face of storms and high winds, all one can do is keep one’s head on straight:  remember to pull over or wait it out if you can when things get out of control, always wear a life vest, use the full spray skirt to keep from getting swamped in rough seas.  Animals are another potential worry, though I have always loved the company of animals over people any day.  I’m half kidding.  Of course one should be prepared to fend off a bear (mace), hide one’s food from marauding raccoons, deal with biting insects, and so on, but the benefits are that I get to listen to owls and crickets at night, I get to enjoy cicadas all day long, and watch eagles soaring and hunting.  I see the occasional otter or beaver, and all sorts of bird life.  The largely unspoken fear is that I’ll be murdered or raped.  Clearly, those would be unfortunate demises.  But I rarely think of them and this is why:  I figure I’m just as likely (probably more likely) to deal with the same scenario in a place where a vicious human has access to watching my patterns, AKA my home. More than that, these scenarios are statistically unlikely, and I’m not interested in clouding my brain with unneccessary worries.  I took a self-defense class before I left, which was empowering and illuminating (thanks Patty!)  Because people mention it so often, I have thought about it, and conclude that if I end up dead, well, at least I will have lived well.  If I end up raped, well, that would suck, but at least I’m still alive and can keep on going on. 

This morning I was thinking about the question, “What AM I scared of?”  I had a nightmare that reminded me that the three biggest fears in my life (my parents getting divorced, being cheated on, and my house burning down) are all things I’ve experienced and lived through.  It sucks living through a nightmare.  But on the other side is the rest of your life.  And nightmares are rarely personal attacks.  It’s usually the issues of another person that cause them to arise.  As long as you are living your life the way you believe is the best way to live it, then even nightmares can’t bring you down.  They may shake your core, but they provide the opportunity to prove one’s fortitude.  “Character building,” they call it. 

I see so many people living their lives based on fear.  I don’t understand the mentality.  Ever since I was a kid and my parents sold their house and bought an old sailboat and took my sister and I sailing for a year, I’ve heard people say, “I wish I could do that” in regards to living a life that involves significant exploration and living outside the norm.  When I ask people what’s keeping them from quitting their jobs and going off to explore, it becomes clear that money is a huge deciding factor.  Or, more precisely, the notion of safety and comfort.  What people don’t often realize is that it’s a decision they have made.  Simply, their priority is semblance of safety net over living the life they dream of.  In a conversation with Leanne, another paddler, who pointed out, "What's the opposite of Fear?  It's Faith.  It's about control.  If someone doesn't have control, they can either chose to fear the unknown, or they can have faith in the unknown."  

Where are you on the spectrum?  What do you fear?  What would happen if you let go of control and had faith in things working out instead of fearing the possible outcomes? How would your life change?

We were looking forward to today, wondering if the weather forecast would stay true:  still 30 mile-an-hour winds, but coming from the NW instead of the south.  Indeed, the forecast was accurate.  I paddled just 2 miles today.  But, I SAILED THIRTY MILES with my UMBRELLA (Brief video on my instagram account).  Once I was in the channel, I popped up my umbrella, and held tight to the edges.  My arms were very sore from the past two days of paddling hard against the wind, and the break from paddling was welcome.  Still, holding the umbrella wasn’t a breeze!  I had to hold tight to the fabric, and holding my arms out wide to maximize windage area of the umbrella took a lot of endurance. 

At one point, the wind gusted and blew my beloved straw hat off my head.  I flailed and freaked out.  My umbrella was carrying me quickly away from the hat.  As I tried to close the umbrella, it blew backward and broke one of the stays.  I feverishly paddled in a circle, fighting the strong winds to get back to my hat, floating sadly on the surface.  I got close enough to the hat to reach it with my paddle, reached desperately to sweep it closer to me, and only succeeded in tipping it upside down and pushing myself away from it again.  I was afraid that it was going to sink—I had to get back to it as fast as I could!  Kayaks do not pivot.  They have a very wide turning radius, and in such strong winds, turning around and succeeding in intercepting a wind-blown, half sinking straw hat is super difficult.  I was grunting and furrowing my brows, pleading, “No, no, no, no, no—“  and finally got back to it, grabbed it greedily from the water and tied it tight to some deck rigging to dry it out.  Heart racing, I was so happy to be reunited with my straw hat and with the silk scarf!  I’ve lost it twice now!  And recovered it twice! 

I reached lock #11 just as a large barge was locking through, so I paddled over to the holding bay and enjoyed checking Facebook for 2 hours while I waited (Yay, back in 4G network land—it’d been several days).  J & J caught up and we all locked through with some motor boaters, Chuck, Carrie, Jerry, and Joyce.  They gave J & J some beer, and exclaimed about how brave and interesting we were.  They offered us showers and dinner at the Yardarm, the restaurant in Dubuque attached to the marina.  On the paddle in, I saw my first beaver!  I was so excited, I excused myself from the group to float next to the rodent and photograph it.  Once docked, we enjoyed a fun evening at the Yardarm, and a nice warm shower. 

The owner told us to just camp there that night, so Julie and I searched for an appropriate spot for our tents.  The area was almost entirely gravel parking lot, and we didn’t want to get run over or take any space from paying customers, so we settled on the only flat spot that seemed out of the way:  behind the dumpster.  We are truly river rats now—being dumpster rats didn’t even phase us.

We had two days back to back with strong headwinds, one day clocking steady 17 mile an hour, one day clocking 23. Both days, gusting to 30 miles an hour, which is gale-force (40-50 mph can breed small tornados).  There were moments where I was paddling my heart out and wasn’t moving forward an inch.  All day long, I felt like a paddling warrior, gritting my teeth and pushing to make any headway.  We only made 11 miles one day and 12 the next, paddling eight hours or more each day.  I tried to stay along the shore as much as possible, to stay in the small sliver of river where the waves cancel themselves out as they crash into the shore and relax the nearby water. I sometimes had to pull over to hold on to a rock for a few minutes as a strong gust might have blown me backward.  I saw a groundhog there, and I saw a deer munching on wild celery; both welcome breaks in my otherwise hyperfocused days. 

Wind-swells in one direction, swells from the wakes of motorboats cross-hatching them.  My little kayak doggedly navigating these plaid patterns of bouncing water. My full spray skirt helped keep splashing water from swamping my boat all day long. At one point I had to cross the channel.  I put on my brave face, held my breath, and dug in, one difficult, strong stroke after another.  Crossing the mile-and-a half channel took over an hour, and there were several gusts of wind and strong waves that nearly toppled me.  Close calls.  Reasons to keep going strong and stay focused, in the zone. 

After the first day, I was pleased to make camp in Clayton, Iowa where I saw J & J waving to me from the deck of a riverside bar and grill.  Once I figured out where to dock my kayak, I joined them, changed into some dry clothes, and collapsed at their table, bewildered by the day’s intensity.  The couple at the table next to us said they had watched me crossing the channel, had passed a few times to make sure I didn’t tip.  I hadn’t noticed, I was so focused.  They were very interested in our journeys and impressed with our tenacity that day.  They paid for our dinner and drinks before they left.  It nearly brought me to tears to have someone do that for us.  So sweet.  We camped behind the bar near a USGS river gauge box.  Locals drove by our tents for a few hours, staring at us.  I decided that I’d get an earlier start the next morning in an effort to enjoy a couple hours of low wind before it picked up.  

Indeed, I woke up at 4:40am, broke camp quickly with my headlamp, joined some fishermen on the dock as I packed up my kayak, and I was on the water by 6am.  The morning was still and the sunrise was lovely, but it didn’t last very long before the wind was crazy again.  Still, because I had such an early start, I was able to paddle 8 hours and make camp by 2pm, just past lock number 10 where a bunch of Amish fishermen sat on the downstream side, staring at me as I passed Guttenberg.  I found a good camping spot just past a grassy knoll and an eagle nest.  I put my soaked clothes out to dry, set up my solar collector to recharge my battery, set up my tent, texted Jake and Julie to let them know where I had found a good campsite, and I crashed for a nap in my tent.  When I woke up, a little over an hour later, J & J had arrived.  Jake was building a fire in his boxers, cooking one of his famous meals.  I took his suggestion and coated a potato I had in river mud, and stuck it in the coals for an hour while Julie and I watched a movie (!) on her phone.  She made popcorn for us over the fire, and when the potato was ready, I dug it out—the mud had baked into a clay oven, and broke cleanly off the potato which was perfectly cooked and moist.  I used some coconut oil and pink Himalayan salt and enjoyed the deliciousness. I spent the rest of the evening gathering drift wood and adding it to our fire.  Jake and Julie are marvelous companions.  We lovingly refer to one another as “river family,” and are all very chill, very encouraging, enjoy laughing, self-deprecating jokes, and good food (though they do make fun of me for eating cold, salty oatmeal every morning).  

Truthfully, I was wondering how much more of the river I could take if the days continued like yesterday.  I warmed up in my tent in my sleeping bag in my sweat pants and long sleeved shirt and thick socks and hoodie, but was never so warm that I needed to shed any of those layers.  The morning was still chilly (50s) but the three of us were in high spirits because we could see blue sky between the puffy white clouds.  We cheerily made breakfast (I overheard Jake say to Julie, “Tell me how that coffee is, and if it’s no good, well, you’re stuck with it”), broke down camp and dried our clothes in the sun, and set off.  It was the first time that we all paddle together, chatting as we went, mostly remarking on how gorgeous the day was, how we didn’t expect the river to be so lovely for so long, and how much better it was to be warm and dry than cold and wet. 

With west winds, we were able to sail some of the day, J & J with their tarp (with Julie as mast and boom), and I with my umbrella.  Their tarp was much larger than my umbrella, and they had Jake to continue paddling, so they flew past me.  We all tucked into Yellow River to see if we could find the effigy mounds.  We ended up tying up under a foot bridge, and clambering up the side.  We walked up to the Effigy Mounds National Monument visitor center, watched a 15 minute film on the effigy mounds, got a good lay of the land and hiked up the mountain to see what we could see.  The effigy mounds are in the shapes of circles, wide lines, eagles, and bears.  It is unknown specifically who made them, but they’re 1000-3000 years old and are often funerary mounds.  The Effigy Mounds are a sacred native site.  This was the first touristy excursion I had taken for myself and I was not disappointed.  A mid-day hike was really wonderful to take, especially in such a beautiful and interesting spot.  The top of the hill boasted some incredible vistas of the river, and J & J and I enjoyed the invertebrate life in the park, too (stink bug! Millipede! Fuzzy caterpillar!)  By the time we were finished with our sylvan jaunt, it was nearly 5pm, and we opted to camp on the beach just north of Prairie du Chein, WI (“pray-d’shayn”).  

I made some quinoa and mushroom masala for dinner, relaxed a bit, and then we headed into town to see if we could find the Tavern, a bar, purportedly owned by a fellow adventurer named Pat.  We enjoyed the walk past old train depots, forts and other old buildings (Prairie du Chien was the 2nd European settlement on the Mississippi).  Sure enough, we found Patrick Igou, manning the bar.  With his bearded face and long braids, wide smile and the adventurous twinkle in his eye, we knew immediately we were in the presence of a friend.  First round of drinks (just juice and soda water for me) was on him, and we enjoyed the bluegrass music and stories of his journeys down the Mississippi, the Missouri river, and hiking the Appalachian Trail.  He said when he and his buddy did the Mississippi River, they did it in 89 days, and only wore a tee shirt and shorts, and brought no other clothes.  He brought a tarp and his buddy had a hammock, but down south, there were no trees on the sandbars, so his buddy had to sleep in his hammock on the bare ground. They never used a toilet the whole time, and kept trying to one-up eachother to see how extreme they could be, paddling earlier in the morning and later at night, camping in evermore uncomfortable spots, etc.  He and his other bartender were both mighty glad to have us there for the evening and we were glad to be in a place where we were welcomed! 

Walking home after midnight, we marveled at the starry sky.  The big dipper was sitting in the sky like it was on a stove instead of how I usually see it farther east, like it’s hanging on the wall.  The milky way was thick, and the entire sky was dotted gorgeously with pinpricks of light.  The river was so glassy that the stars were reflected in it.