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. 
 

Reminder of why I include these health checks here.  

I had a cough for a while after being sick, but it's finally gone.  

Feeling stronger and stronger.  I can actually SEE and FEEL muscles in my upper arms now!  Leanne tells me she has to paddle harder alongside me now (she's still stronger). 

My body revolted one night against the grossness of my clothes--my sweat and the same dirty clothes for too many hours created an uncomfortable red-dots/red welts rash all over my torso one night.  With an all-over spray of gold bond, most of it was gone by morning. Some of the welts took 36 hrs to disappear.

The day after long paddles or hard winds, my elbows really hurt and I have to be sure to wear kinesiotape on them and dose up on ibuprofen.  

My inflatable mattress no longer holds air longer than an hour or two, so I was waking up to a deflated mattress for a while, which meant all the joints that need the most support (hips, mainly) are the heaviest and all the lighter parts of my body are supported, causing a vector toward the joints that need support.  So I now sleep on the ground, with no mattress since this at least keeps my whole body flat and supported equally.  It's not the best night's sleep, but I'm starting to get used to it.  Sandy spots are the most comfortable, followed by dirt and grass.  Hard mud with sticks and leaves is okay, but gravel and concrete are terrible.  My pillow has also lost a lot of loft, and my sleeping bag is starting to get clumpy (it's down, and keeps getting wet).  All of this combined with a very bright moon this month meant that I didn't sleep well several nights in a row, and am taking some sleep-aid medication occasionally now.  It's been over 3 months since I've needed any!

Still have: trigger finger, synovial cyst, occasional numbness on forearms, charley horse/cramps in my forearms and legs. Left hip bursitis has been pretty bad, making standing and walking difficult and regularly waking me up in the middle of the night in pain.

Diet: I eat about a jar of peanut butter a week.  I depend on fresh produce like carrots and cucumbers to keep good fiber in my diet.  I eat a lot of oatmeal.  In town, I crave warm meals, but am usually disappointed by the quality of the food and the low nutritional value.  I expected this, knowing which states I'd be traveling through, and packed good food for myself.  But as my stores dwindle I have less options for varied good food. Also, our strange schedules have not been conducive to a regular schedule for meals.  I make a warm meal for myself when it's convenient, and it's never convenient.  Sometimes I make one anyway, but I pay for it in lost sleep (takes a long time to take those extra bags out, do the actual cooking, eat it, clean up, and then re-pack all those bags).  I usually just grab some quick-bite foods from my big food bag in 4 day quantities and subsist on a diet of peanut butter, chia seeds and coconut milk powder (what I like to call "pudding"), juice boxes, water, oatmeal, nuts, dried fruit, and some fresh produce. 

Mental: Leanne and I have been traveling together for almost a month, and it's been great to have someone to share the experience with, chat with during the day, talk me down when I'm feeling glum or being hard on myself, and motivate me (she's an amazing encourager!).  Sometimes I miss paddling alone, and doing this all on my own, but I'm pleased with how easily we communicate and respect one another's space and needs, and I enjoy her way too much to say sayonara. Plus, our parents are super duper happy we have a paddle buddy for safety's sake, and putting them at ease is worth a lot.  
Dropping my camera in the river represented a huge disappointment in my ability to do well, and has provided opportunities for me to examine why I'm so hard on myself.  I recognize how irrational this can be, and try to just be kind and move on, but it's something I struggle with.  

I had a massage in Lansing IA, and the next day I felt really sore, as if I was set back to normal and then abruptly reminded how broken down I often feel on the river.  The following day, however, I felt stronger than I had ever felt, as if the reset massage really did bolster my abilities.  

I've had a crummy head cold for about a week now which I think I caught from Jake (I found his handkerchief wadded up in my couch bed one morning).  It put me out of commission for a couple days back in Bettendorf, and I was feverish one night, but other than that it's just been coughing, runny nose, headache.  I've been paddling through it since then, but took a short day on my worst feeling day, and I've been really careful to stay hydrated.  I am on the other side of crud, but I think Leanne's got the crud now.  So we've enjoyed a day's rest in Burlington to rest this sickness off and get some blogging done.

I continue to take turmeric for joint pain and it does a lot of good.  I feel muscle pain now where I used to only feel joint pain.  I never felt the good burn of having exercised the day before for the first couple months, because I just felt like I’d been run over.  Now, I feel the good kind of muscle tiredness in my triceps, pecs, and biceps.  I forgot to take my supplements while I was in Bettendorf, and the joint pain came back after just a few days of not taking turmeric. So, I’m sold on it!

I’ve got a huge bruise on the inside of my right thigh—same place I had one a few weeks ago, but I can’t figure out how I’m getting them.

In general, I’m feeling stronger.  My left shoulder has been clicking for almost a month, with every stroke, and it stopped clicking 2 days ago.  It feels like my muscles are finally strong enough to hold my joints in place where they belong.  I don’t feel like I’m all that strong compared to most people, but I feel like I’m probably as strong as most people are normally now.  It feels really good not to feel like I’m about to fall apart at the seams (joints) at every moment.
One campsite had crazy no-see-ums and my legs were eaten up the next day with 100s of tiny bites.  Some got crazy itchy and a bit infected the next day because it was so hot and sweaty in my kayak. I used some of Leanne’s Gold Bond to dry them out and it worked like a charm.  Infection cleared up, all healed over. 

I’ve got some chaffing going on in my left armpit. I find it strange that it’s not in both armpits.  I used some of Leanne’s Gold Bond on that too—it helped to soothe the burn a bit, but didn’t dry it out as much as I had hoped.

Still have: trigger finger, synovial cyst, numbness on forearms, regular sun poisoning on hot days, charley horse/cramps in my hands and legs. Left hip bursitis has good days and bad days.

Diet: Trying to maintain a decent balance of fresh food and my dehydrated camp food; cooking and accepting (generous! But often not as healthy) donated meals.  Some days I feel like I’m really slimming down--how could I not, I’m paddling 20-30 miles a day! Some days I feel like I’m maintaining or gaining weight--how could I not, I’m eating like a horse and putting on muscle!  So, in reality, I’m probably just maintaining what I started with some internal changes. 

Mentally: these past few weeks I’ve been camping with Jake and Julie, and most recently paddling and camping with Leanne.  I noticed that my anxiety dreams disappeared when I shared camp with my new friends.  I’m back to no anxiety.  I do think more now about When I Get Back than I did at the beginning of the journey, but it’s not with anxiety but just anticipation and curiosity. 

It was yet another hot day.  We were sweating before we even finished packing up our boats.  I planned to go to Lansing and get some blogging done.  J & J planned on heading a bit farther downstream.  Jake reminded me to try my Greenland paddle, and I did use it for 10 miles.  I liked how easy it was to use--I definitely did not mind how much less my shoulder was clicking, how much less I felt I had to pull and push the paddle.  But it was louder than my other thin-blade carbon fiber paddle, and not long enough for my broad posture.  I tested it after 10 miles and realized it was 25% slower than my other paddle, and I didn't feel like I had the same control of my boat.  Considering that the water is low and slow and I'm not a very strong paddler to begin with, even though I appreciated how much less work the Greenland paddle made me do, I opted to switch it back out for my carbon fiber, because I don't want to be on this river forever.  Twentyfive percent slower is significant!  When I pulled over to switch out my paddles and to dry out some things (like my foam seat) from some overzealous motorboaters, a man came over to see what I was up to and offered me a beer.  I always heartily thank people, but decline.  Today, however, was so hot, and he was so insistent, that I eventually accepted a chilled wine cooler in a can. It felt amazing on the back of my neck. And tasted pretty good too.  

I nearly passed the Iowa tri-state sign--I had to paddle all the way across the channel and upstream a little bit to snap a photo in front of it.  I didn't have cell phone coverage all day yesterday, and only had some coverage midday today.  I was delighted to get a message from Julie asking if I wanted to join them in Lansing at a woman's house for the night.  I was about 2 miles behind them, and it felt like an eternity before I caught up with them!  Lansing was SO CRAZY with recreational boaters, even on a Sunday!  As I was paddling past the Lansing beaches, a man yelled out to me, "Did you get the message? That you have a place to stay tonight!?"  So awesome.  I love small towns.  

Family members of the Paddle for Prevention crew were on the boat (wearing their shirts!), as well as Patty, whose house and company we greatly enjoyed for the evening. Patty is one of those stalwart, colorful, strong ladies that doesn't take shit, and likes to live life.  Her house, overlooking the river and the bridge (the tightest turn on the navigable Mississippi) was adorably decorated in bright colors and whimsical images.  Julie and I immediately felt at home and loved the place.  Josie, Patty's dog was just a sweetie once we took off our scary backpacks, and the three of us enjoyed chatting, eating some dinner, and telling stories with Patty.

The next day, it was raining hard all morning, and thunderstorms were forecast so we decided to wait it out.  Unfortunately, the thunderstorms never showed up, and J & J and I felt like we should have paddled anyway.  Sigh.  Hindsight is 20/20, but I think it can be difficult to realize that when you're living in a tent, paddling, you really don't want to be caught in the middle of the river during a fast-moving thunderstorm.  Rain is one thing, but lightning is not fun, and it can take 10 minutes or more just to paddle from the middle of the channel to the side of the river, assuming there's a place to pull over at all.  Not only that, but leaving after noon is rarely worth it when you factor in the time and energy it takes to pack up and unpack, especially when those things are wet.  Patty took us into town to explore Lansing's quintessential Horsefall's Variety stores--two large collections of all sorts of low-end whimsy.  "One thing you need and a million you don't".  I bought myself a Mississippi River Rat coozy. In camo.  I figured that was perfect.

As Patty was headed back to her Decorah home, we moved our things to her backyard to camp in her backyard for the night.
We had some dinner at the riverside restaurant, and headed back there for breakfast since everything else was closed on Tuesday morning.  Another day in Lansing, raining on and off, thunderstorms in mid afternoon, and tornado warnings all evening.  We met a man named Tripp this morning who is biking from Vermont to Seattle.  He's a month in and suspects it'll take him another month.  I spent the entire day catching up on my blog.  AND, I had a massage.  A blessed massage.  I have had 2 two-day rest days in the past week, and I figured I needed to do something to help me stay a little more pulled together and strong for the upcoming 2/3 of the river.  She concurred that my left hip was super tight (bursitis) and that my right forearm was bunched up too (where I have the worst of my nerve damage).  When she massaged my hands, I felt like whimpering, they were so sore.  She had never heard of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome before, and half way through the massage I asked if she could tell, and she said, "Definitely.  It's like you're elastic.  A lot of women are soft, and men are tough, but you sort of snap back where I press." I always think it's interesting how body workers verbalize their experience of what it's like for them. 

Tomorrow we head back on the river again!  Only 40% chance of rain. 

I am so sore when I wake up. I just want to stay in bed, everything hurts so much.  I have been taking 600mg ibuprofen before I get out on the water, and I think that, adrenaline, and being engaged helps keep me feeling pretty good while I'm on the water.  But the pain relief and anti-inflammatories are all gone by morning, and I just ache.  Especially in a nice house like Mary and Jims…I just want to lay there forever.  But the river calls!

For breakfast, Mary made me a hard boiled egg, 2 slices of toast and some OJ—living the high life (thank you!). 

Just before I got to the first dam of the day, I saw, running around the rip-rap on the side of the river, a mama and two baby otters. I was so close to them!  After yesterday when I didn’t even see any deer, I had assumed my views of wild mammals had come to an end.  And then, this!  My heart quickened and I tried to think about how I could video them without scaring them.  Definitely the best part of the day. (The video didn't really come out, sorry.)

The first dam, Sartell dam, started next to a busy road.  I had to pull my kayak up the bank and then onto the shoulder of the road.  After several hundred feet, taking turns moving heavy bags and my kayak, always keeping both in sight, an older gentleman in a jeep, Bob, stopped and offered to ferry my bags and water to the put-in.  He explained that the put-in was much farther than it looked, and mentioned that he had paddled himself when he was 18 down to St. Louis.  The road was about 1/2 mile long, and then I had to go down a dirt trail under a bridge where there was a drop-off that bent one side of my wheels and popped the tire off the wheels too.  Bob was very kind and took them to a friends house nearby to fix it well enough to continue using them.

The day involved two portages. Both were much longer than listed on the map.  It was a hot day, too. On top of it, I was battling strong winds against me between the portages.  I also had to navigate Sauk Rapids--the first set of rapids that really involved some serious paddling and focus.  With 15-20 mile an hour winds against me and a strong current and the rapids, it was a tough go, but I made it.  I only got pulled into one trough because the suck was so strong.  (I took video, but the brim of my hat was covering the camera lens the whole time). I saw a trick-kayaker practicing, named Rick.  He had paddles that read "Drug Free" and was glad that we both paddled for a cause.  He was doing all kinds of rolls and flips!  His kayak was super short and looked like a little rubber ducky.  I told him I couldn't do what he was doing in my (super long, laden) kayak. (Also tried and failed to get video of that).

At the St. Cloud dam, the take-out is up 5 STEPS.  Who thought steps were a good idea for portaging?  I managed, with the help of a young Somali woman who helped yank my boat's painter up the bank.  Still, the yanking was so intense that I managed to finally break beyond repair, the tevas that started my trip a month ago already in poor condition.  The rest of the portage was done barefoot.  I started carting things a little at a time, when Carter, a young man who works at the St. Cloud park stopped and helped me carry my bags for the whole portage (Thank you!)  Awaiting at the end...can you guess?  FIFTY ONE STEPS.  Thank goodness they were going down, but still!  Fifty one!  Steps!  Uggh. Of course, the beach at the bottom of the steps was FULL of broken glass, and me with no shoes.  I summoned all my circus skills and stepped gingerly as I packed up the boat and shoved off.  Feet did okay.

I feel dead today. My hands hurt from sunburn.  I dragged them in the water to cool them off.

I had planned on meeting some people and staying with them tonight, but after I left St. Cloud, I paddled a little further, but couldn't even manage to get to the designated campsite, so I stealth camped at the head of an island.  It was beautiful; rocky, warm, no bugs, complete with a dead tree to hang stuff to dry.  I was bummed to miss Val and Ryan, but my back was beginning to give out, and I was done for the day. I tried to go swimming, but it was too shallow.  So I just sat and enjoyed what felt like a cool Jacuzzi. 

I saw a bunch of turtles, goldfinch, juvenile bald eagles today.   I ate 2 cans green beans, but I need more food. The cheese I bought in the convenient mart in Little Falls is disgusting, and the cans were nearly $2 apiece. Ridiculous. 

I mowed all the fresh blueberries that Jim brought me this morning. I woke up early, excited to go more than half-way to Palisade, encouraged by all the inspiring stories from Jim last night.  Somehow, I still didn’t leave camp until 11am.  Here’s what I do in the morning, the reasons I keep getting such late starts despite waking up early. 

• Lay in just a little longer and/or update my journal
  
• Take my vitamins/medicine
  
• Brush my teeth
  
• Stuff my sleeping bag and pillow into compression sacks
  
• Deflate my sleeping mat and fold/wrap it up
  
• Find something to eat
  
• Brave the mosquitos to go pee
  
• Rush back and enjoy just a little more time in my tent without bugs
  
• Change from camp clothes to paddle clothes
  
• Pack camp clothes
  
• Pack electronics bag
  
• Review map for the day
  
• Make sure I’ve collected all my trash
  
• Take down tent and pack it up
  
• Take 3 or 4 loads back to the kayak for packing:
  

1.     camp clothes, sleeping pad, tent, dobh kit and sometimes food in back hatch
2.     electronics bag strapped on top
3.     pillow, sleeping bag, quick-grab bag in front hatch
4.     food bag in-between my legs in the cockpit, snacks and lunch on deck

Lastly, I don my gloves, pack my water and tevas, put on my sunglasses, hat and PFD, and shove off.  It’s sort of a production.  I haven’t figured out how to make it less of a production considering that

a)  I need my tent, sleeping pad, sleeping bag, pillow, camp clothes, dobh kit, and some food every single night, and they’re all packed in the farthest reaches of my kayak for weight/balance/fitting everything like a puzzle—reasons.
b)  I can’t leave my lunch/snack bag on deck. (Mama Raccoon taught me that)  Gotta bring it into camp each night.
c)  I use my electronics each night to type my journal, record my milage, and besides, I want that stuff with me at all times.
d)  Mosquitos suck.

Anyway, the river was less full of deer flies than the past couple days, but I counted that I killed 24 of them (all were biting my hands through my gloves).  This, on a good day!  

The day felt pretty easy and lovely.  I realized yesterday that my normal “shortcuts” across turns was yielding some very difficult paddling against strange eddies.  So today, I worked on finding the “sweet spot” in the current.  Often, that means going the “long way around” the curves…but not always.  You've got to watch the water, and look for the fastest moving water, and follow that.  Tiny whirlpools indicate that the water is eddying and will slow you down significantly. 

I spoke with Emily from ASC today, and she and I talked about working to get a story about me up on their site and some more info about them on mine.  Another "meeting in the wilderness". 

After 13 miles, my mid and lower back muscles felt like they were right on the verge of serious spasms.  Not wanting to risk having my back go out (when that happens, I usually have to lay flat for 2-4 days), I stopped paddling, and floated the next 6 miles to the next campground, only paddling to steer.  Slow going, but pretty nice.  I ended up doing 19 instead of 28 miles today—not quite Jim Lewis-worthy, but still respectable for me.  

When I found my camp, I wanted to immediately lie flat, but had to, of course, set up camp first.  Feet covered in thick, clay-ey mud, I unpacked and set up my tent as fast as I could.  In the few seconds during which I put my things inside my tent, a whopping 40 mosquitos followed me into the tent.  I spent a few minutes killing mosquitos, the last of which were full of blood by the time I found them.  Splash!  Ewwww…it was like a killing field in my tent.  Then I spent 10 minutes wet-wiping the mud off my feet, then had to eat some dinner (cold mashed potatoes with dried leeks), change into my camp clothes, blow up my sleeping pad, and THEN lie down.  Ahhh, my back immediately thanked me.  Hoping resting tonight does the trick and I can continue tomorrow.  

Laying in, checking the overwhelming response to all the blogs I posted last night, and thinking about the thunderstorms forecasted, I heard, “Hello?  Is this Alyssum’s tent?”  Still bed-headed, I popped my head out of the tent to meet Steve Otto, official representative of the local planning commission, on his bike.  “I’ve been reading your blog, and just wanted to check and see if you needed anything.” I chatted with him for a little bit and he assured me that Jim Lewis, a Grand Rapids river angel with whom I’ve been texting, was the patriarch of river angels in the area.  Indeed, I realized a few days ago that I was running out of contacts (I wear daily contacts because my eyes dry out too easily otherwise—another strange symptom of EDS).  I had my uncle send a box of contact lenses to Jim, and he'll meet me tomorrow night at a campsite, to bring them to me!

I called the portage assistance and chatted with Cheryl (with whom I have been sharing the campsite for 2 nights).  She and I bonded over our love for wildlife and nature, and though her idea of climate change was God telling us he was unhappy about how much sinning we’re doing (as opposed to my more scientific explanation), I agreed that we weren’t doing a great job of taking care of the world we were given.  She said to me, “Alyssum, you’re the first person who didn’t just brush me off, and tell me I was crazy. Most people say I don’t know what I’m talking about.  I feel like we’re really on the same page. I don’t want you to go.”  I said, “Well, I’m atheist, but I think we all come to the conclusions we come to based on our experience of the world.  And the thing is, we all want to live in a healthy world, so why don’t we focus on that instead of our differences?”  “Yes!” Cheryl said, “There’s so much corruption and greed, why isn’t there more collaboration!?  And I don’t care if you call your higher power “nature,” and I call mine “God”; we all have a higher power, something that gives us strength.”

The portage assistant, Dean, showed up then, and I rushed to finish packing up my things before the oncoming threatening clouds came in.  Cheryl and Rick gave me a donut (yum!) and we drove through Grand Rapids, saving me 3.5 miles of water and 2 long portages.  At the boat ramp, the clouds were even more ominous, but I opted to just get in and get going.  The clouds rolled in fast, and I hoped it would just blow by.  “There’s a bridge not far from here, you can take shelter there,” my helpers informed. I had just enough time to take a single water quality measurement (downstream from the Blandin paper factory) and lodge myself between some rocks under the bridge when a torrential downpour arrived.  Dry and grateful for the shelter, I snapped some pictures, and then heard a question. Looking up, I saw 2 bikers who were also using the bridge as cover.  We shouted to eachother over the din of the storm, asking and answering questions.  
Yes, I’m headed all the way to the Gulf.  
Wow, the water so shallow you could walk across the river here a few weeks ago?  
The rain let up, and I set off.

The rest of the day was just gorgeous.  Interesting cloud patterns, and a river lined with trees on both sides.  For the first time, it was wide enough that I felt like I was on a proper river, not just a swollen creek.  I realized too late that I had forgotten to pack my GoPro on my deck bag, so I couldn’t video record any of the beauty today.  I saw a mama otter and her two little ones, all bouncing their squiggly bodies across the bank.  So cute!!!  That was my favorite thing today.  I also so a merganser with 8 ducklings, and several scrawny deer.  Then I saw…horses?  No, they were cows up there on the bluff!  Cows were strange to see after so much wildlife, but I expect I’ll be seeing more of that.  Some of the banks had this soft pillowy-looking grass, dotted with daisies, and I was reminded of the opening scene of Little House on the Prairie where Laura is bouncing happily down the prairie hill.  

I paddled 20 miles down to Blackberry campsite.  Similar to Crazy James’ where you have to haul your stuff up a hill, the campsite was nice—and provided a bear-proof locker for my food.  Not sure if there are bear this far east, but was happy to have a way to confound the raccoons.  After hauling all my gear up the hill, I was sweating.  I realized how much I’ve been enjoying the perfect 60-75 degree weather so far.  After a wet-wipe “bath” in my tent, and still sweating, I realized how much more difficult and uncomfortable everything will be, as I move further south and into the hottest months.  For dinner, I enjoyed a packet of corn chowder with a packet of ramen mixed in (not cooked—just cold water poured over it, and a longer waiting period before eating).