Humid, humid, humid.  Temperatures in the low nineties with heat indices in the low 100s.  IN THE SHADE.  Sitting all day outside in the sun is a bit rough.  I find myself getting sleepier than normal, and wanting to nod off for 5 minute naps all the time.  I try to pull out of the channel before I do.  I drink water from my camelbak all day long, and enjoy my fresh fruit all the more for the electrolytes they provide.  I dip my elbows in the water to try and keep my long-sleeve-wearing arms cool.  I dip my face protection wear in the water to keep my face and neck cool.  I breathe deep and try to lift myself off my seat to give my poor aching butt a break.  I am still not thankful, though, when big boats zoom past and swamp me because the water that cools me for a second, ends up hot and gross in my seat / pants for the rest of the day.  

Paddling in the heat, on a Saturday near a big city is not my favorite thing to do.  The river was crazy with drunk boaters everywhere.  So I opted to paddle through the bird refuge above lock #8 rather than staying in the channel, in an effort to avoid some of the traffic.  It was beautiful, and I'm glad I did it.  It was much less populated with recreational boaters, and I really enjoyed all the bird life.  However, on the way out, I got lured out into a channel that didn't actually exist.  That is, I saw a red nun buoy, and headed for it, but it was an errant floating nun, one that got loose from somewhere else.  So I was stuck in a mad mess of a wild celery and algae patch.  I had to paddle really hard to push my way through, each paddle lifting a heavy load of plant matter.  I headed for the lock, but it still took me 3 hours to reach it from the time I saw it across the pool.  A barge was locking through and another barge was waiting to lock through.  I sat behind the 2nd barge, watching a bald eagle and some crows.  The eagle was uncharacteristically standing in the water--probably to cool its feet--and taking sips of water every so often too.  I usually see them up high in trees, it was strange to see it panting in the river.  I feel you, little feathered friend, it's hot out here.

I realized I could  paddle around and see if I could maybe lock through between the barges, and guess who I saw?  Jake and Julie!  They had arrived a couple hours before and were told they couldn't lock through until the barges went through, so they went into the teeny town of Genoa and befriended some folks from a motor boat from Lansing; Kathy, Dave, Amy, and Ben.  Jake is one of those people who is unabashed and friendly with everyone.  He'll give anything to anyone, and expects the same of others, making him (a self-professed) scavenger.  By the time I showed up, Ben had literally given him the shirt off his back, and the others had filled J & J's cooler with ice, beer, and even a venison sausage that Dave had shot.  We locked through with this generous party crowd, and, as it was past sunset by the time we locked through, they towed us a couple hundred yards to the nearest beach below the lock.  They helped us set up camp, get a fire going, and I had some endearing one-on-one girl time with Kathy who kept asking me about my trip and then telling me about her family (who she clearly is very proud of).  She suggested I not date anyone longer than 2 years, and insisted that I keep her bug spray.  I accepted both the advice and the spray.  

When they left, J & J and I enjoyed a marginal dinner around the fire, super tired from our long, hot day.  I took some photos of the power plant across the way, but was surprised at the huge mosquitos and didn't end up taking a photo of the incredibly clear and starry sky.  

The wind was on my back today (the best!) and I was able to sail with my umbrella for a little while.  I got a message from Jake, Julie, and John, inviting me to join them at John and Beth's house for the evening.   Coming into La Crosse, I passed a group of ladies who were swimming and drinking--they coordinated their calls to yell at me at the same time, "HEY, WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?" "All the way to the Gulf!"  "COME DRINK WITH US!" I thanked them, but I was excited to meet my fellow paddlers and I didn't want to keep my hosts for the evening waiting.  

Jake, Julie and John met me on bicycles at the edge of La Crosse, nearby the Hiawatha statue.  They forwarded me over to the Marina, a couple miles down the coast, where John met me with his car.  I grabbed some dirty laundry and my overnight stuff, tied my boat to J & J's canoe, and headed in to La Crosse.  John is a retired water quality specialist that used to work with the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources.  It is his water quality data collection that I'm repeating.  So it was super exciting for me to meet him in person and nerd out about my YSI sonde and the results I've seen so far.  I was able to ask him some questions, and he mentioned that he was really curious how quickly the conductivity changes down in Louisiana.  That is, salt water intrusion upstream--how soon does it start?  He said he didn't measure conductivity often enough to pinpoint where the change occurs, so I said I'd try to increase my testing frequency down there to try and get an answer for him.

At the house, I was able to shower, and then spent the evening re-doing my resume.  Beth was a delight, humming her ukulele songs and baking us fresh zucchini bread to take with us the next morning (!).  We all took a little jaunt up to the bluff for sunset (I'm sensing a theme.  I like this view-from-bluff-at-sunset theme).  Jake took a panorama and we ran around him and ended up in the photo 3 times, haha.  THANK YOU John and Beth for such a lovely respite!

My hosts, Chris and Kathy, were marvelous people.  Generous, excited to hear my stories, asking great questions, very engaged with me but also understanding of me needing space to rest and do some internet work.  First thing Chris said to me as I pulled in last night was, “have you missed a good Kentucky accent?”  (his being thick indeed).  It WAS nice to hear. When I arrived, Kathy had made some delicious tabouli salad with mint in addition to cilantro (mmmm), and some ratatoulli to die for.  In the morning, she asked if there was anything I’d been craving living on the water.  And, well, since she asked…I ventured, “Pad se ew? It’s a thai dish, I’ve been craving it for weeks.”  While Winona doesn’t have great options for restaurants, Kathy is an avid cook, and was more than willing to try a new recipe.  

We mostly relaxed around the house and I took a four hour nap on the poofy heaven bed (these 30+ mile days really wear me out).  So, I didn’t get as much blogging done as I had hoped, but I had a great day of rest.  Later, we went for a drive to pick up some stamps and post cards, talk to the folks at the MN Fish and Wildlife, and Big River magazine. The Fish and Wildlife office ladies took great interest in my journey and gave me a ‘hoo rag,’ a tube of fabric that I could use to protect my face from the sun.  I was so excited about it (given my terrible sun burn the other day) that they gave me two for good measure. That evening, we ate the pad se ew, and it was SO GOOD.  I’m not sure it quenched my craving, though.  I just want it more now J.  The three of us took a drive up to the top of the bluff for a beautiful sunset view, where we met some of their friends and snapped some photos before heading home to some ice cream and homemade strawberry drizzle.

The following morning, I had to take care of some pressing matters back home involving a printer, scanner—and I was very glad to be in a place that had both!  I was interviewed by some folks from the Winona Daily News, and by the time I had finished all my work, it was after noon, and I didn’t think I could reasonably get to the next waypoint in what was left of the day.  Kathy welcomed me to stay another night (THANK YOU), so we had time to drive to see the Latsch Island community. 

Latsch Island and the adjacent Wolf Spider Island has 100 house boats moored to the edge of the island.  You can access them by foot from Latsch Island.  Some have electricity, many don’t.  Some are lived in year-round, some aren’t.  Those that do live there full time have to tote their water, fuel, groceries, etc by foot or by boat to their home.  In the winter, you can drive on the ice to replenish what you need, but the rest of the year, you still have to contend with flooding and other issues that make access difficult.  As someone who is obsessed with tiny houses they were really cool for me to see.  I wish I could have gone inside more of them!  I took another (shorter) nap, before we enjoyed a meal at the local golf club restaurant.  

Lake Pepin is a naturally dammed lake.  That is, the Chippewa River which joins the Mississippi River just below Lake Pepin has a lot of silt and sand that it deposits at the confluence.  Historically, the sand and silt created a dam, causing the water behind it to pool, creating 4-mile-across, 23-mile-long Lake Pepin.  

It being Saturday, and getting ready to cross Lake Pepin, I knew I'd be in for a lot of recreational boat traffic.  I made myself some Kukicha twig tea as a calming element to combat the rising tension I felt even as I tried to re-pack my boat and had 13 motor boats zoom past, their wakes knocking huge waves into my boat, spilling water into my cockpit.  There's a saying:
People who move with paddles are paddlers,
People who move with sails are sailors,
People who move with motors are maniacs.

I understand how fun it is to go fast on the water, but boating courtesy rules say that boats without motors have the right of way, and that motorists need to pass such boats with no wake.  Less than 1% of all motorists actually know or follow this rule.  In addition to wakes causing erosion damage, when I'm in my boat, wakes that swamp my boat endanger my very life!  I wore my full spray skirt today for that reason.  Every time a motor boat zooms past, leaving a tall wake behind it, I have to alter my course, in order to go perpendicularly over the waves until they pass, so it also slows me down quite a bit.  

I was paddling against the wind, getting ready to enter Lake Pepin, silently cursing all the inconsiderate motor boats, drinking my tea to calm my nerves, when a pontoon boat headed right for me actually slowed down.  "Finally!" I thought, "Someone who understands and follows the rules."  Just then, I hear, "Alyssum!" from the pontoon.  It's Justin Staker, one of the paddlers I met the weekend before in St. Paul.  He's visiting his parents' house in Frontenac, a town on Lake Pepin, for the weekend.  He pulled up, said hello, introduced me to his family, offered a place to refuel and rest if I needed it.  I thanked him but said I was going to try and make it all the way across Lake Pepin.  He gave me some pointers, and pulled away.  

The wind was against me, and I felt myself pulling harder than I ever have to.  If I stopped paddling, the wind pushed me backward, so I was making terrible time.  After a couple hours of hard paddling, I decided I should probably take Justin up on his offer afterall, and began to look forward to a rest.  I knew I just had to get around Point No Point, and then I'd be close to my day's destination.  As I paddled and paddled and paddled, I realized why it was called Point No Point.  It looks like you're coming up on a point, but as you round the bend, the land moves in a perfect curve so that it never looks like you're making any progress at all.  It took an eternity.  In actuality, it took me a full 6 hours to get just 8 miles, I was moving so slowly.  
Once I got to Justin's parents' place (Lynne and Jim), I was greeted by a sweet couple dogs, the whole family, and a sign hanging that read, "SANDY FEET WELCOME."  You could tell they had taken in paddlers in the past, and it definitely made me feel less self-conscious about my dirty/sandy state.  A shower was my first stop, YAY.

After a visit with Jim and Lynne, I sat in the porch to do some interneting, and Justin's young niece, Flannery, came over and said, "Are you the same woman we saw earlier in the kayak?"  I affirmed.  "You look....different," she stated flatly.  I laughed, and confirmed, "Yes, I'm clean!"  She added, "also you don't have your life jacket and stuff on."  

A great joy is that I plugged my non-working (for 2.5 days) phone, and after a couple hours, the battery charged enough for the charging LED light to come on--PHEW!  It was just the battery!  I couldn't be happier.  It's little things like this that make River Angels so amazing--if I hadn't had a place to just relax and plug in my electronics, and let it sit for a while I would have gone without a phone for a lot longer and maybe would have tried to buy a new one.  THANK YOU Jim and Lynne!

Later in the evening, their next door neighbors had a pot-luck, which was great fun.  Delicious food, fun chatting to folks about my journey and learning about the local news.  I slept on the couch out on the porch; it's always nice not to have to set up and take down my tent.  

The Mississippi River does not follow a static path (or at least it didn't before it was engineered to follow the same path).  With floods, the alluvial plain of the river, changes course, creating oxbows and loops, islands, and straightaways.  Erosion is a natural phenomenon.  

However, the wakes from speed boats can increase erosion by truly mindblowing amounts.  For instance, boating for an hour at 20 mph erodes 50 square feet (Boatwakes.org).  The waves caused by boats can be as large as storm-induced waves, but have a much greater effect due to the increased number of boats on the water, and their proximity to shore (WI DNR, 2000).  This erosion causes the water to be more turbid, making shoreline habitat less desirable for many fish species.  This turbidity also makes it more difficult for submerged plants to have enough light for photosynthesis.  This decreases the dissolved oxygen in the water, making it less desirable for fish to breathe in.  Controlling such erosion can be very costly for those who depend on the riverbanks for recreation (fishing, swimming, etc), or those who have buildings on this type of property.  

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

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

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

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

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

The morning was gorgeous, and I only had 16 miles to paddle.  I started listening to Huckleberry Finn, and even though I had read it as a kid, I hadn’t remembered much of it.  I was rather shocked by the fact that every slave is referred to as the N word, throughout the book.  I mean, I know it reflects a time and place, and that the racism in the book is used on purpose by Mark Twain to point out the rubbish people, but still.  Shocking. 

I kept my eyes peeled for the landing to meet Jim Lewis, and was glad I was coordinating my Google maps location on my phone with the paper map.  The landing was hidden behind a swath of reeds, and I only knew it was actually the landing because “Trommald Landing” was painted above the stormwater drain. I pulled in, texted Jim my GPS coordinates and waited in my tent a couple hours as he drove to pick me up.  Jim had already hiked 24 miles today, so to come pick me up after that was really generous.  I thanked him profusely. We loaded up my boat, Jim remarking, “My, that IS a lot of water you’ve taken on!” and headed to his house.  

We stopped on the way in Aitkin, snagging a quick bar meal, and sharing some past adventure stories.  We also stopped at the Lutheran church where his wife, Sharron, is Pastor, to turn out all the lights and lock up.  I enjoyed seeing the space that fills Jim and Sharron’s life with light--it seems like a strong community, doing a lot of good.  Their home was spacious and comfortable—I briefly met Sharron (Jim said, “this is my new best friend, Alyssum!”  Sharron said, “He always has new best friends.”), took a shower and headed to bed.  I realized that a shower in a house is more effective than a shower in a campsite—there was still a bit of toenail polish on my big toes under all the mud that had been caked on for so long! 

I paddled 22 miles today to a river access campsite called Lone Pine.  After a few days in little towns where there were fewer mosquitos, toilets, and no mud, I had to laugh at going back to the muddy offload onto a steep bank, being surrounded by mosquitos and having to dodge poison ivy.  Oh yeah, that’s right; roughing it.  Ha haha.  On one hand, it’s easier because I’ve got my rhythm down, I know exactly what to expect and how to do it.  On the other hand, it’s less easy because the novelty has worn off. 

I still enjoy living in nature though, despite the drudgery and discomfort.  Today I saw bald eagles around every bend (more than 10…they’re starting to get so ubiquitous its hardly worth mentioning!), pretty kingfishers, and a couple deer at dusk. I heard an owl as I was falling asleep, and I am pretty good at identifying animals around camp by the weight of their footsteps.  There was a deer nearby that sounded as if it were drunk, crashing through limbs and leaves all evening.  Usually they’re pretty stealthy, this one was super clumsy.  Sure enough, at one point, it came into camp and was surprised at my tent which it bounded over, nearly tripping.  Funny. 

My day was mentally absorbed by trying to figure out and worry about the water that my kayak was taking on.  In Palisade, I emptied the boat, dried her out, took all my water bottles out and filled them and checked them all for leaks (none).  I’ve been super attentive to making sure all caps are screwed on tightly, and that my camelback water tube thingy hasn’t leaked.  On my way to Aitkin, the day was super windy, and I did have one wave lap up against me—when I arrived, there was ~2L of water in the boat—more than I thought was reasonably possible for that one wave to have dumped inside…but I couldn't be sure.  I know the bulkhead between the cockpit and the back hatch leaks, but am not sure where the water is coming from.  In Aitkin, I turned the boat upside down again, looking for cracks in the hull.  I see a bunch of deep scratches, but am unable to tell whether they’re superficial or go all the way through.  There’s no obvious place where pressure makes the hull do wonky things.  Another trick is that the water stays in the boat overnight, so it doesn’t leak out the same way it leaks in, if it’s coming from the hull.  I thought it could be coming from the rudder through-hull wire fittings, but when I paddled today, the water was calm, and no water washed over the back deck, and yet I still had water accumulation by the end of the day.  I wore my full neoprene spray skirt today (so no water could enter from the cockpit), and I still had a few liters of water in my boat by the time I arrived to camp.  So, I texted Jim, and woefully asked if he’d mind coming to help me figure out what’s going on.  So tomorrow, he’ll meet me at Trommald Landing, just north of Brainerd in the evening. 

In the meantime, I’ve collected ~50 data sets, so it’s time for me to download the first batch of data points from my water quality measurements (the water quality probe only holds 50 data sets at a time). And, I have paddled 300 miles!  I know it’s not much in the scheme of things, but every 100 miles feels like a win to me. 

For the first couple hundred miles, the Mississippi River, nicknamed Big Muddy, was actually crystal clear.  I could see straight down to the bottom, 20 or 30 feet below.  On glassy days, I actually felt some vertigo from being so far above the river bottom "up high" in my kayak.  Since Grand Rapids, however, the river has earned it's nickname. This could be due to thunderstorms, eroding banks (as opposed to marsh), discharge from paper factory, etc.  Some of the reasons we care about how clear a body of water is (it's turbidity or transparency) are because oxygen has a harder time dissolving into turbid water (making it harder for organisms to breathe), sunlight has difficulty penetrating the water column (making it more difficult for water plants to photosynthesize), and particles can clog gills (making it even more difficult for fish to breathe and reducing their ability to fight disease).  Here's how you use a turbidity or transparency tube.  It's very similar to a secchi disk, if you're familiar with that. 

I spent the first half of the day editing videos, using the electricity under the campsite's picnic table pavilion. Around 2:30, a man walked up from the river looking triumphant.  He introduced himself as Levi, a solo canoer who is "flying under the radar" because he's not on Facebook.  He set up camp, and later we walked into town together.  We sat at the bar (water for me, $2.50 vodka/cranberries for him), then walked across the street to the restaurant where you can bring your own liquor.  Behind the bar, they keep locals' liquor bottles with their names written in sharpie.  Aw, small towns.  :)

Levi and I enjoyed a yummy, deep fried meal, and some good conversation.  He made a copper wire ring for his girlfriend and decided to propose to her tomorrow when she visits.  It was great talking with another solo paddler.  He said the Buddies Not Bullies folks behind me have only seen 2 deer because they're not stealth like we solo paddlers are (he's seen 46 and I've seen close to a 100).  He kept telling me to give myself more credit.  "You're plenty strong!  You've made it as far as I have, and this hasn't been easy!"  

In order to stock up on some canned food and wet wipes, we went to the convenience store in town.  "What're you going to do with all this food?" asked one cashier.  "Put it in my kayak and keep going!"  "Oh," said the other cashier, "are you going all the way to the gulf? Good for you!" as I nodded.  "And, you?" she motioned to Levi.  "I'm paddling to the Iowa border."  "Why aren't you going ALL the way?" they quipped.  "See what I have to deal with, Alyssum? I get this everywhere!  700 miles, and no one cares because it's not the whole river!" 

We spent the evening hanging out at some RV campers' campfire (Mike and Cindy).  They were self-avowed climate change deniers, and Mike works at a plastic factory.  Cindy was quick to mention the biodegradable soap they use, and Mike was very proud to share the stools/tables he made out of scrap polyethylene that would have been waste otherwise.  He said that the company he used to work for never had recycling unless the recycling companies paid them (most recycling companies require you to pay them to pick up the waste). He said the new company he works with was bought out and it took the new management 6 months to implement mandatory recycling, and they recycled 70 tons (!!!!) in the first month.  Both Cindy and Mike were unaware of the plastic gyres in the oceans.  They were aghast to hear that there's a swath larger than the size of Texas swirling in the Pacific Ocean!  I talked a little with them about microplastics and microbeads (against which you can take action here), and they seemed curious and receptive.  I'll be posting more about my work with 5Gyres.org soon!