A Week on the Mississippi Part 2

Thursday November 17th    Day 90

We hit Cape Girardeau this afternoon after a day of heavy barge traffic.  They were lined up coming up and down river.  We could at times see 4 barges down river and the same lined up behind us.  The previous evening we had noticed several barges pulled over to the bank and in Cape Girardeau we learned from a tug worker that a tug had hit a wing dam and four barges were floating free.  As a result traffic was called to a halt in the area while the four loose barges were rounded up.  The barge traffic today was most likely a result of that traffic halt.

Cape G was the first town we hit with a flood wall and gates. We walked around town and hit the brewery. The brewer, Mike, was behind the bar and turned out to be a great guy.  He bought us two rounds of beer and filled our water jugs. Offered us a place to stay and when we left was trying to figure out a way to send us down river with a gallon of beer. 

We camped on the other side of the river and as we were crossing over a barge lit us up with it's spotlight.  It was under the bridge and heading straight for us.  We had missed it because it's lights blended in with the bridge lights.  Paddled hard and fast to get out of the shipping lanes.  Made it in good time but definitely gave us a start. 

Friday November 18th    Day 91

Paddled back across the river to Cape G for coffee at the Cup & Cork and breakfast at Patty Lou's diner.  A little place off the track with great biscuits and some good style.

South winds i.e. headwinds were predicted strong.  15 mph hour with gusts of 33 mph. Standing on the shore getting ready to push off the wind was howling straight up the river.  We hit some occasional heavy wave action and took some good waves over the bow. On the lakes we took some much larger waves without taking any water overboard but in some ways the bigger waves are easier to take.  On the big lakes wind waves would build to between 3 and 6+ feet high but there was enough distance between each wave peak for the boat to ride over the top and back down into the trough before hitting the next wave.  On the river when the waves get bad they are shorter in height and the troughs are minimal.  The result is the canoe rides up and over the first or even the second big wave but the next one the bow of the canoe just dives directly into.  Today we took several good waves over the bow and had to stop in protected water to bail out the boat a couple times.  We paddled for 2.5 hours to earn 8 miles when we were forced to shore by winds so strong progress was no longer possible.  We sat for 2 hours until the wind had settled down a bit.  Got back on the water for 2 hours and knocked out 12 more miles. 

We found a pretty well protected spot just in time for the wind to die.  While sitting on camp a barge lit us up with it's spot light and just left it on us.  Dick.

Saturday November 19th   Day 92

Paddled through a huge S-bend most of the day with strong south winds.  Because of the alignment of the bend we were protected from the wind most of the day except for the first hour and the last hour which were total morale killers.  There is little in the life of a river paddler more demoralizing than a strong headwind.  There is nothing to do but keep paddling and it just continues to drive against you holding you up and turning every foot of progress into a fight.  First the muscles start to ache, to tire, and the arms begin to get heavy but soon the joint pain begins, the sharp grinding pain of irrepairable damage being done to ligaments, tendons, and cartilage as the will demands more than the body can provide.

Right at the last hour of day light just upriver from the Cairo bridge a tug passed us coming downriver forcing us to the left bank.  Further downriver was a tug with barges idling on the left bank and another on right.  Campsites were limited but we didn't want to camp next to an idling tug which could be there for an hour or for 12 hours.  So to find a campsite we crossed the river 4 times and finally found a serviceable spot downstream from the bridge. 

Sunday November 20th   Day 93

On the water at 8:20 am with rain beginning what is supposed to be a 3 day storm.  It rained/misted most of the day with sporadic breaks.  The wind was supposed to calm but stayed at 5-10 mph from the south all day. The craziest thing was the fog.  We took off in the morning with decent visibility but as the day progressed the fog thickened. 

It's a wild experience paddling a big river in the fog. One loses sense of time and space.  It is as if one is outside of time, expecting Charon to appear poling across the River Styx, his boat loaded with an ethereal fare.  It is of an outside of body experience, as if existence has been suspended and the soul set free to wander.

We were following the shipping channel buoy to buoy to know where we were and were passed by a tug.  It quickly disappeared from sight in the fog and I was commenting on the surreal situation when another barge materialized out of the fog heading directly for us.  We headed to the nearby right bank and moments later the barge passed us on the left a short distance away.  The wheelhouse door opened and the pilot stepped outside in shorts and t-shirt to wave and take a photo of us before disappearing into the fog.

The fog continued to thicken and we continued to travel buoy to buoy. When there was no buoy in sight we kept to what we believed was downriver.  We could no longer see either bank and visibility would be measured in feet.  Our senses were keyed to the slightest disruption in the usual, listening and searching for any discrepancy of movement or sound that might hint at an oncoming barge or wingdam. We decided to head to shore but which shore to hit? How to not hit a wingdam? Find a campsite? Luck

We paddled towards the right bank and suddenly the wind picked up clearing the fog immediately surrounding us and there on the right was a huge beach hundreds of yards long. We followed it to the bank and found a perch in the trees protected from the wind at the downstream edge of the sandbar. 

About 12:30 am the thunderstorm hit.  The rain poured down assaulting the walls of my tent.  It seemed to last for hours, probably minutes, perhaps all night as I drifted in between sleep and wakefulness half worried about the tent, half worried about the integrity of my tent.  Morning arrived with a slight drizzle and a grey sky.