- Always keep maps in waterproof bags
- Check stove before leaving
- TWO spoons: one for eating peanut butter during the day, one with my fork for dinner/breakfast
- Re-seal my tent before I left
- Bring less clothing (This is all I need--camp clothes: hoodie, sweatpants, long sleeve tee, thick socks, nightgown; paddling clothes: tee, rashguard, 3 pairs underwear, pants, capris; and nice/laundry day clothes: skirt, tee)
- Slightly larger phone dry bag. I use my phone all the time. When it’s in the dry bag, it’s possible but difficult to read the screen, and I can’t use the camera at all. Since I use it outside the bag in camp, and like to take pics with it regularly, I find I’m always fiddling to get it in or out of the bag. It’s a tight fit, so it’s annoying. If it were just a bit bigger, sliding it in and out would be easier. I have taken to putting it in a pelican case some days, for easier access, but then I have to be SUPER careful not to drop it or get it wet.
- Always keep PFD, hat, sunglasses, gloves INSIDE the cockpit at night or tie them down really well (so they don’t blow away)
- Don’t bring rain pants—when it rains, I get wet no matter what
- Foam seat pad
- Bring a couple lightweight reusable grocery bags—they’re great for carrying things from the boat to the tent
- Bring a thermacell for mosquito control during the first month
- Bring a good pair of shoes instead of 2 crappy pairs
- Synthetic sleeping bag instead of down? Not sure. Actually been fairly impressed with how well the down dries out.
- Make sure GPS isn’t just waterproof, but also floats
- Print out the lower Mississippi river maps and spiral bound them
0 Comments
I paddled 18 miles, from 8 miles below Prescott to another sandy bar a few miles below Red Wing. The thunderstorms wailed through camp last night, strobing almost continuously, making sleep fitful. I did get dripped on a few times from the apex of my tent, where a bunch of seams come together (I need to re-seam seal that), but the re-waterproofing job I did on the rain fly did a great job and kept things pretty dry. Sand, on the other hand…the rain drops down and sand flies up. Sand is everywhere. I wish I had a dust-buster to de-sand my tent. As things dried, I helped myself to some fresh wild grapes. My phone wasn't working yesterday, and I hoped it was just my charging cord that was faulty. When I pulled into Redwing, I was looking forward to using the municipal dock, but when I got there, it was festooned with "don't dock here this weekend" posters. Since I had already passed the marina, and wasn't interested in paddling upstream, I made do by pulling over to the riprap, and precariously exiting my boat on the steep rock boulders, and locking it to a boulder that I could put my lock cable around. A man from Texas who was in Redwing for work greeted me as I unloaded. He was jovial and aghast at my journey. Super nice guy, who wished me well. I pulled my empty waterbottles, my backpack with all my technology, my trash, and a bag for groceries ashore. I found that the lobby of the St. James hotel had wifi, and was able to do some work, fill my water bottles, dispose of my teeny bag of trash. I shyly approached the woman at the desk, explaining my situation and wondering if she happened to have a micro-USB cable to try and charge my phone to see if the problem was just the cord. More than willing to oblige, she offered me a cord, and we sat and chatted as I waited to see if my phone would charge. She confirmed that Redwing was an artsy little town and told me about some of the art festivals they have there. My phone didn't seem to be charging, so I gave up my goal to replace the cord while in town, and went instead in search of fresh fruit and veggies. I'd deal with my phone some other way, some other day. I found some chilled grapes--much cooler, meaty and less seedy than their wild cousins this morning. But also less flavorful. I had a tip to stop at the Harbor Bar across the channel in Redwing, as they're friendly to paddlers, but it seemed pretty rowdy and I was looking forward to another quiet evening. I found a little spit of sand, and set up camp just in time to snap some nice photos of the setting sun. Even on islands like this, where things look pristine, I still find bottle caps, single-use tooth floss things, gloves, etc. I woke up with that same tickle in my throat, but was determined to make some distance since I had rested and only paddled 4 miles in the past 2 days. The going was slow because the wind was against me. The sky was overcast, and I couldn’t get my phone to charge. I listened to the radio, and severe thunderstorms and possible hail were forecast for my area. So when it started to sprinkle, I opted to pull over at the first reasonable beach to camp and wait out the weather. I was bleary headed and dizzy. I set up my tent, and fell asleep. It wasn’t until I woke up that I realized I actually was sick. The rest of the day and night, I just slept and woke up, made some miso soup, slept, woke up to crazy thunder storms, slept, bleh. Nick and I paddled to the levee where we met Brad and Jenny and Miles, their sheltie. We enjoyed a quick little chocolate snack (thanks Ben!) in celebration of Nick getting through the weekend with me. Brad said, “Well, are you going to keep going?” giving me the option to bail if I wanted to. I said yes, and he called me a river rat and Jenny said she’d be thinking of me every day. AGAIN. I love those two, and their quick wits. I thanked Brad and Jenny for EVERYTHING and hugged Nick goodbye and headed back to paddling. I took a ‘short cut’ behind an island, which turned out to be a peninsula. By the time I got to the dead end, I’d gone a half-mile out of my way. So, I took my own advice from yesterday, and took a little break, snapping pictures of the private air-strip where I had found myself. On the paddle out, my mom called, and I talked with her awhile. I mentioned a flock of seagulls ahead, and then started wailing like a bad ghost impression. She thought I was imitating seagulls, but what had actually happened was this: A fast-moving, winding snake swimming across the river happened upon my boat, and was very determined not to let my boat be an obstacle. She tried to slither onto my boat and as I wailed, I used my paddle to redirect her. She fell in the water, and continued to head over my boat, this time closer to me and all the things I have lashed to my deck. Still wailing, I used my paddle again, and she had one more go of it before I succeeded in prompting her to go around the front of my boat instead of onto it. It was thrilling! The snake continued like nothing had happened, but after it was about 20 feet from me, I saw it lift its head and look back at me like, “what was THAT all about!?” I identified it as a ribbon snake that night—non-poisonous, fast moving, long and comfortable in the water. After that excitement, I listened to the first couple chapters of A Little Princess before my ipod ran out of energy and I was set back to entertaining myself by watching the bald eagles and kingfishers. Later in the day, I was paddling through more wild spots, which opened up into broad lakes. I wished Nick could have joined me for this part—it was more similar to what I’d experienced so far. I locked through Lock #2, and camped near a channel marker just below Hastings. A father and son paddled by in their tandem hobie kayak and offered help in any way they could, and I fell asleep. 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. 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. |
AuthorAlyssum Pohl is paddling the Mississippi River and documenting water quality and plastic waste along the way. Archives
October 2017
Categories
All
|