We waited for the morning thunderstorms to pass, and although it thundered, it never rained, so we opted for getting on the river since we had a long way to go before we got to Alton.  Once on the river, we dodged multiple rainstorms and thunderstorms.  We alternated with getting drenched, trying to pull over, stopping at a marina to dry out, still getting wet, and so on.  The video below is an accurate reenactment.  

In Grafton, IL, we decided we wouldn't be able to make it all the way to Alton, and so we stopped at the marina there where we paid to leave our boats for the weekend while we played in O'Fallon, IL with Leanne's Uncle Mark and Aunt Karen and in St. Louis with Nick and Jeff.  

At both marinas, we were introduced to the "loopers"--folks who, usually on large motor vessels, travel a huge circumnavigation of the eastern United States.  We spoke for quite a while with several--all were agog at our journey.  Particularly, the sailors-turned-motorers who acknowledged that the reason they decided to do their journey in a motor vessel rather than a sailboat is because so often they end up motoring in a sailboat anyway, and when they're sailing or motoring in a sailboat, they go slow enough that they may as well be paddling!  Their dry indoor cabins with electric looked mighty enticing...but I did not envy what their boats and fuel must cost!

Another windy day.  Jake and Julie left in the early afternoon, and Leanne and I stayed to rest and work until 4pm. We headed down the river, and found Kinder's Restaurant just before it closed.  We had a quick bite to eat there, and camped on the other side of the river at Riverside Harbor dock because Leanne had a nasty migraine.  We slept on the dock, but as rain came through, we pulled our sleeping bags up to the picnic area and slept on the concrete there.  Not only do I not have a phone anymore, but my sleeping pad deflated for the first time on the dock at Cedar Hill, and so sleeping on the dock and then concrete at Riverside was not exactly comfortable.  We are hoping to get down to Alton Illinois tomorrow where Leanne's uncle will pick us up. My boyfriend, Nick, is in St. Louis this weekend visiting his friend Jeff and I'm really excited to see him.  Leanne's been pushing hard with me to make sure we don't miss this date.  

Another 4am paddle.  For the 1st time, my brain wasn’t ready to paddle early.  We’ve had such a weird schedule the past 3 days (Night paddles! Morning paddles! Midday naps! Middle of the night naps that turn into the rest of the night!), and we haven’t had a rest day since Burlington, I think I’m just ready to sleep in and have a normal day.

We packed up and head out under the stars.  Venus, the morning star, was so bright it left a trail of soft reflected white light on the river.  We paddled in silence, listening to the morning crickets and owls, grateful for the lack of wind in our face.  The small town of Hamburg, IL was just a few miles south, and we stopped to find a trash can and some water, as we both had run out of water the night before.  On the way in, hugging the shore, we scared up some carp, some of them landing on our boats and wriggling away, some flying through the air just in front of our faces.  It was like popcorn!

As the day wore on, the wind grew stronger (in our faces) and we opted to duck out of the main channel to enjoy less wind resistance.  We found a long slough that was more like a thin canal—clearly it had been created at some point for recreational purposes.  It was like paddling in the headwaters again—just a few tens of feet wide, lots more turtles and several snakes, and the quiet that goes with small waterways.   I saw several plastic tarps washed ashore today--it was strange because I hadn't seen one before, and I saw 3 today.   At one point it got noisier as we came upon a tractor working the land right up to the river bank.  A little further, we saw a veritable showcase of tractor brands—six or seven tractors idling on the riverbank, waiting for their drivers to get in and start working the land. 
 
This morning Leanne dropped her lightning cable to charge her phone in the water, and when we exited the canal, we stopped at a landing so she could try to find her extra cable.  She was unable to find it.  Since my phone died last night, and she was out of batteries, we were really annoyed that we had lost all phone contact temporarily.  We knew we were only days from St. Louis where we could remedy these issues, but in the meantime, it was up to her Delorme satellite text-messenger to let people know where we were.  At the landing, a couple older fishermen stopped by and offered a beer to Leanne, lots of opinions on labor issues in the area, and the advice, "don't let them rednecks bother ya, a'right?".  Just after they left, we saw Jake and Julie paddling way far away on the other side of the river, just two blue dots moving at the edge, toward the next lock, 4 miles ahead.  I waved and waved, but they didn't see me.  We didn't want them to lock through without us, because it might take us a long time to wait for the next lock, so I opted to paddle my butt off and try to catch up to them while Leanne repacked all her stuff and caught up.  I never did catch up, but I paddled SO HARD, and Leanne had a really hard time catching up to me.  She had sent them a message on the Delorme, letting them know we were without our cellphones, and the confusion that started up (she had inadvertantly used the word "emergency" in her text, which had Jake and the Lockmaster getting ready to send out a boat after us), slowed the locking through down enough so that when they looked back, there we were, catching up and setting the record straight.  It wasn't an "emergency" so much as an "urgent" message.  (Leanne learned an important lesson in wording).  

The lockmaster let us know of a place to eat on the far side of the river just a couple miles down, so we made our way there.  I was absolutely beat, and did what I like to call "butterfly strokes" there (where my paddle very gently, like a butterfly's wing, barely touches the water).  It's a slower stroke, but it lets me heal my aching joints/muscles while still moving forward!  When I arrived to the 'restaurant,' it turned out to be Cedar Hill Resort Restaurant and Bar, owned by a man named Jay who, despite being closed, insisted on frying up some delicious Asian appetizers for us in the kitchen and sharing some cold Gatorades with us.  He owns the land, his house nearby, and a sweet guest house on the property, as well as the restaurant which, I imagine, does incredible business with the recreational boaters during the summer.  Jay chatted with us, offered us a shower at his house and let us camp on his dock overnight.  All in all, it had been a 25 mile day with some crazy winds, and we were grateful for the rest. 
 

​I was surprised that I enjoyed sleeping out in the open with just my inflatable mattress and sleeping bag.  I was also surprised that no bugs bothered me! Leanne woke up at 5, but there was already a barge going through lock 24, so we had to wait til 7 to get started.  We packed up camp with Jake and Julie, paddled across the pool to the entrance of the lock together.  J & J stopped in a town and Leanne and I paddled on for several hours, stopping for a midday lunch at Rip Rap landing in Illinois.  J & J paddled past us and didn’t see me wave them down.  There was a concrete outhouse at the landing, but when I opened the door, the floor was caked in more than a foot of mud, and a ton of trash (another photo I am sad to have lost).  Clearly, the parks department forgot about cleaning this location out when it flooded last time.  I cooked some warm lunch and we took a nap under the trees.  Our nap lasted longer than expected, and we were enjoying just relaxing at this spot after so many days of weird schedules, so we decided to stay the night there, too.  So it was a short day, just 10 miles of paddling. 
 
In the evening, my phone stopped working.  I have been really good about keeping it dry, so I think it was just the end of its life—it was booting and rebooting itself without ever letting me access anything on it.  One of my absolute pet peeves is how ‘disposable’ cellphones are.  I hate that I have to get a new one so frequently.  I hate that they don’t last six years or more.  I hate that in order to stay current and on top of news/peoples’ lives/etc. it’s basically a requirement to have one at all.  I love what my smartphone allows me to do, I just hate that it’s not something that LASTS.  I worry about all the minerals mined that go into making each phone.  I worry about all the electronic waste and plastic that goes into making each phone.  I get seriously stressed out and anxious having to choose the ‘right’ phone that will fit my budget, allow me to do everything I need it to do, not be extravagant, and last as long as possible.  

We woke up on Blackburn Island near Louisiana, Missouri, and shortly after we started waking up, we saw our buddies Jake and Julie paddling by.  We waved them over and convinced them to stay the day with us and try night paddling later on.  We all enjoyed some roasted marshmallows, and a lazy day in the shade.  My friends were impressed with my ability to find a good spot to camp in the dark, (rather than finding a landing, which is what we normally do in the dark) despite the fact that I had to because I was getting swamped by the waves last night.  

After an enjoyable day and a nap in the shade, we set off in our respective three boats, to get through lock # 24 ten miles away, and get in 20 miles or so before going to sleep.  Jake and Julie had their first experience watching for shooting stars, their first experience paddling with barges at night (staying out of their way, and getting blinded by their floodlights), and tried (not very sneakily) to turn off their lights and scare us as we paddled by.  But we could hear the water lapping against their boat and see their darker than dark shadow agains the water, so it didn't quite work.  They mentioned how sleek our kayaks looked at night--the silhouettes accentuated against the black undulations.  When we got to the lock, a large barge was going through, so we opted to sleep the night on the sandbar just above the lock (a rare treat--usually the pools above locks never have appropriate camping sites), and get on the water early in the morning.  Leanne suggested cowboy camping (not setting up a tent) to make getting on the water quicker in the morning.  With virtually no bugs, I was willing to try.  
​

Hannibal was just really cool.  And there were a lot more pictures to share, so here they are :)

Our first cold morning.  Gotta get going south!  The mist rose portendingly off the water this morning (more pics I'm sad to have lost).  Leanne and I stalled our movement though, as we enjoyed the company of 3 fishermen who were staying at the landing in an RV.  Surprised to wake up to a couple women in tents at their obscure fishing spot, they offered us coffee and a chair, and we all just talked about life, and how book-learning isn't everything...how much we all enjoy getting out into nature and feeling what the world has to offer.  It was truly one of our favorite mornings yet. 

Just 12 miles down the river, we stopped in Hannibal, MO--the birthplace of Mark Twain.  Right as we landed, we were greeted with the American Queen (paddleboat)'s cheerful calliope announcing it's departure--a fitting welcome, I thought, to a legendary spot.  The moment we walked up the ramp, we were greeted by a couple gentlemen who were enjoying their 50th highschool reunion.  They and their wives were enamored of our story and invited us to enjoy what food was still available at the reunion in the pavilion nearby.  That meant cookies and cake for me and chicken for Leanne.  We thanked everybody and headed into town to enjoy being a tourist for a day or so.  

We hopped aboard the trolley, and nearby the Tom Sawyer caves, Leanne requested that we be let off the trolley--she had a Jake and Julie sighting!  Sure enough--we found our paddle buddies at the Rib Festival in the park there. Yay, river family!

Jake had befriended another boyscout, Steven, and his grandmother, Mary, in town, who graciously invited all four of us to stay the night at their house!  After setting up our beds there and getting some laundry started, we headed back into town to walk around during the art gallery hop.  Three of the galleries had drawings for winning art, and guess who won TWO of them?  Lucky me!  I gave one to Julie, and am keeping the fish one--perfect for my marine conservation self.  

The following day, we bid adieu to our J & J pals, and Leanne and I spent the day being tourists, avoiding the strong South winds, and really really enjoying all that Hannibal has to offer in its quirky American splendor.  I'll let the photos speak for themselves.  

That evening, we paddled 25 miles in the dark (I saw 16 shooting stars!).  I had just finished telling Leanne about an experience I had had sailing up in Newfoundland where it was a lovely day and out of nowhere we were faced with 16 foot swells, when--BAM--we were faced with large swells of our own, leftover from the day's wind.  The swells were nice and rolly for a while, but then, as we entered the pool above Lock #22, they became treacherous.  I didn't have my full spray skirt on, and one swell after another was washing into my cockpit.  We passed the spot where J & J were camped, and planned on getting much further, but the extra water in my boat was quickly making it impossible for me to maintain control of my kayak.  I bailed.  "Leanne, we need to stop right now, I can't keep going.  I have to bail my boat out, we've got to pull over immediately."  Twenty minutes of furiously focused paddling, we landed on Blackburn Island near Louisiana MO, where we faced mud, but found a decent camping spot.  Grateful that nothing worse happened, I learned an excellent lesson:  ALWAYS WEAR A FULL SPRAY SKIRT AT NIGHT.
​

With Leanne hydrated, we left Lock and Dam #20 after the morning's first 2-hour barge lock-through.  We took a rest in Quincy where Leanne was supposed to pick up some medication (alas, it was too expensive).  We stopped at the Art Keller Marina where we were able to take a shower (yay, thank you!), and celebrate our first THOUSAND MILES of paddling by treating ourselves to a hibachi grill meal.  Under a gorgeous sunset, we passed through Lock and Dam #21 and did some night paddling before tiring and heading upstream up the Fabius River to a landing where we set up camp and crashed out. 

Our first day in Missouri!  We slept in.  I explored over the berm and realized that tilled land was closer than I’d imagined it could be.  This is where fertilizer enters the river; nitrates/nitrites and phosphates seep through the soil a few hundred feet (or less) into the river, or, when the river floods, it takes these chemicals right with it. More about the effects of this here. 
 
Leanne was moving super slow when it was time to pack up, so I just enjoyed all the frogs and toads and butterflies at this little landing.  The day was hot, though, and there was no good shade at this landing.  When Leanne stood up she was woozy. She vomited once, and I decided we should get to a doctor in Hannibal since this was the 2nd time in a week that she had vomited out of nowhere.  I was pretty sure she was having some sort of overheating event, and wanted to get her some anti-emitics and IV fluids. I helped pack her boat and we set off.  The lock was only 5 miles away, but she was too weak to paddle, and vomited again.  I decided we needed to get her to a doctor immediately.  She called her father who figured out the nearest clinic was in the town at the lock; Canton.  Meanwhile, I tied her boat to mine and towed her the five miles to the lock.  The lock was closed for maintenance until evening, but the workers were super friendly, and offered to help portage around.  When I asked if there might be someone who could help us get to the clinic, they didn’t bat an eyelash.  Immediately we had a fellow (I think his name was Joey? I feel really bad I don’t remember) drive us to the clinic, wait for us, drive us to Dollar General for some Gatorade and groceries, and drive us back to the lock.  At the clinic, they did some bloodwork, called in a prescription in Quincy and told her what we already knew—she needed rest and hydration.  I decided we wouldn’t head to Quincy until morning, and that we’d use the evening to rest and hydrate.  Thus, we went directly from being badasses one day (50 miles!) to being very humbled (5 miles) the next. 

The guys at Lock 20 were awesome.  They let us camp wherever we wanted, and offered the tractor barn as cover if we wanted too.  We took them up on that, but still set up our tents inside (bugs were bad).  We had incredible electric storms pass overhead that night; two thunderheads and attendant lightning were visible on the horizon over the setting sun (one of the photos/videos I was saddest to lose).  My tent doesn’t stand on its own—you have to stake it out to support the arches.  Since the floor of the tractor barn was concrete, I was pretty happy with my macguyvered solution to set heavy metal plates I found in a metal recycling bin on the stake-guides.  

Our goal today was to go 42 miles in order to beat both our previous records (37 for me, 41 for Leanne).  We decided we’d do best if we got an early start, took a late afternoon nap and continued into the evening.  So, we woke up at 3:30, and were on the water by 4:40. Paddling early into the sunrise is so lovely.  We had a nice north wind which helped us a bit; we sailed about 8 miles with our tarp/paddles contraption.  A father and son (Don and Josh) canoeing from Prairie du Chien WI to Quincy IL, shot video of us sailing as they passed us.  We listened to Tina Fey’s Bossypants for a couple hours as we sailed, but when the wind died down, we had to paddle ourselves to Keokuk, where we were going to rest.  Those couple hours in the hot sun were slllllooowwww.  Leanne didn’t know how I was paddling so slowly.  I was doing what I could and it wasn’t much.  The pool before the dam got wider and the water got slower and it seemed like forever before we finally tied up at the Keokuk Yacht Club.  What a wonderful rest we had there, though. A group of people had just been to a funeral and they gave us extra sandwiches, vegetables and a fruit plate left over from the funeral.  We gladly snarfed it down, and listened to stories about Pat (their aunt/mother/cousin) who had died.  The fruit plate was especially delicious.  After some time online and being refreshed with food, we set our sleeping bags out on the grass for a nap.  The Yacht Club owners offered us a shower, a place to stay and the opportunity to lift our boats out of the water to clean them if we wanted—which made leaving a few hours later really difficult!  But we felt like we had just had such a great rest in Burlington, and we were really dedicated to making our 42 mile goal that night, and we were only about 12 miles from that goal. So we left just after dark. 

​We had gone through a couple locks at night before, but the turbulence after this lock was intense and rather scary.  Out of nowhere, a standing wave caused by who-knows-what under the water sucked me into it and it broke over me—the closest I had come to being knocked over so far.  Leanne was able to miss the worst of the turbulence.  We were both surprised by it and glad that we were traveling together at this point.  The water was perfectly calm after that initial turbulence, but I was cold and wet for the rest of the evening.  We made our goal of 42 miles and found a dock on the map at 45 miles.  When we arrived at the dock, we realized it was a barge dock, not a boat dock.  There were no lights, and as we shined our headlamps into the dark, we laughed at how creepy it seemed: fog steaming up from the dark water, eyes reflecting back at us from the trees and the muddy riverbanks (frogs, raccoons, opossums), the looming shadow of a crumbling factory with no lights…  There was no place to land at the “dock” and so we found ourselves, at 2 in the morning, continuing on to the next landing, 5 miles downstream…which meant we would paddle 50 miles!  We arrived 4:20am, meaning our day had been 23.6 hours long, with a 5.6 hr break in the afternoon/evening—or 18 hrs of paddling.  But we did it—FIFTY MILES on the upper Mississippi River!