Bronze's Mississippi Expedition Log

Took the opportunity today to spread out my sodden gear to dry: blanket, rainfly, clothes, maps, etc.  Though it threatened rain all day, it thankfully never materialized.

A visit to the library yielded the contact information for numerous marinas along the Tennessee river; also the Army Corps of Engineers and Tennessee Valley Authority contacts for the region.  It took an inordinate amount of phone calls, for oddly enough no government agency could give me the slightest idea of the current speed for this river.  Of the 10 or so marinas I contacted, I received answers ranging from “No current” to “3-4 mph.” I find this odd, but can only assume it varies with the width of the river.  In any case, as this section is over 200 miles in length, I find it to be impractical to consider an attempt to paddle upstream.  Heading up the Ohio River would present an even more challenging current, but as it was for only 50 miles, I was willing to consider it.  Thus, I will remain faithful to the original aims of the expedition and continue on the Mississippi to the Gulf.  Remained in camp, resting, for the remainder of the day.

Day 28:  0 Mi.

Very dismayed to discover my wool blanket was quite damp last night.  The temps are warming, however, and I won’t have need of such a cumbersome item much longer, I suspect.  Several tows passed as I ate my dinner in the dark, and they make use of an incredibly powerful search light in the cockpit, which sweeps the riverbanks and must reach for nearly a mile.

On the river today I passed what appeared to be a dormant ski resort, though it seemed scarcely 500 ft.  tall.  I suppose that is the most vertical descent one could hope for in these parts.  The banks of the river are so lush and green, it makes for a continual pleasant view.

I reached the small town of Savanna, which seems to have a tavern in every other storefront, around 1 pm.  I will remain here for a full day, staying two nights, so I might make use of the library’s resources.  I hope to gather sufficient information to make a confident choice of either remaining on the Mississippi River or heading up the Ohio and Tennessee Rivers to the TN/Tombigbee Waterway, and thence to the Alabama River on to Mobile.

Day 27:  24 Mi.  1 Lock.

Perhaps as recompense for yesterday’s inclement weather, I received clear blue skies and warm sun today, and a strong wind at my back to cool and propel me forward.  At times the gusts reached 30 mph, which became a difficulty when I found myself tacking across them, as any spray would be immediately flung several feet through the air into my face and body.

I paused after 3 hours at a remote, private boat landing and sat in the shade taking my lunch and doing some stretches.  Before long I was at Lock 11 and found myself last in line behind 2 tows, who also needed to be gassed up.  I was resigned to spending several hours sitting on the rocks in the heavy winds when an engineer approached with a cart and trailer and offered to help portage me around.  I warned him of the cumbersome nature and excessive weight of my craft, but he insisted and pressed a fellow engineer into my service.  These two able and brawny fellows hoisted my boat up through the rocks and onto the trailer in no time.  I was grateful for their cheerful willingness to help and the efficient manner in which they completed the task.  They spared me another wasted afternoon!

Beyond the lock lay Dubuque, IA, a city of about 58,000, with an impressive waterfront and harbor.  This harbor was originally created to serve as a place to harvest great quantities of ice, which was sawed out of the frozen harbor, floated to a vendor, packed in sawdust and transported to kitchens around the area.  This harbor now boasts several riverboat casinos and an extensive Mississippi River history museum, which I toured.  The floor of the museum featured a scale map of the waterway, and it was fun and satisfying to follow my progress so far.

I found the downtown to be lacking the energy and activity of La Crosse, and the historic charm of the smaller river towns through which I have passed (notably MacGregor).  It did have many fine brick buildings and I’m sure much more to offer a visitor such as I but alas I was eager to eke a few more miles out of the day.

Continued for three more hours during my favorite time for it (early evening).  As I began to search the shore for an eligible place to make camp, I happened upon a lone fisherman in his boat, who informed me that a sandy beach lay but a mile farther.  This is where I am now camped, some 17 miles south of Dubuque, in the vicinity of a place on the map identified as “Smiths”.

Day 26:  43.5 Mi  1 Lock

It rained most the night, and the morning was overcast and wet.  I took a leisurely breakfast and hoped for a change in the weather but was not rewarded.  Set out at noon amidst strong wind and rain, the temperature in the low 60s.  The rain was in my face, as well as the wind and the waves it created.  It was a disagreeable time, not particularly cold but wet to the bone and tiring to face down the waves.  It required a course correction every few seconds, for the turbulent water served to push me this way and that.

I arrived in Guttenburg around 3 pm, thankful for a respite, a warm meal and refreshment.  While at a tavern, I chanced to converse with an older couple who informed me of an alternate, perhaps more suitable, route to the Gulf.  It would require my departure from the Mississippi river in Cairo, Illinois.  I would head up the Ohio River and then south through a series of dams and lakes, gaining a southbound current in Kentucky, which would lead me through Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama to the Port of Mobile.  I am most intrigued by this idea, as the couple pronounced the route as scenic and peaceful and clean, in contrast to the lower Mississippi, which would be very wide open and blanketed by industry and the filth thereof.  I will gather further information of this route at my earliest convenience.

Was obliged to wait in the damp for 90 minutes at Lock and Dam 10 while a barge and towboat made a complicated locking-through procedure.  Did not arrive in Cassville until 9 pm and I find myself ill-humored from the long day of wet travel and waiting around for so few miles gained.

Day 25: 27.5 Mi.  1 Lock.

The river itself is quite wide now, at times nearly 2 miles.  However, narrow islands tend to line the channel such that I frequently am unaware of the vast size of the river, but for my maps.

I awoke before 6 am and made ready quickly, but such a dense fog lingered on the river that I was obliged to delay departure, for visibility was less than 50 yards.  I waited until 7, in time for the local market to open so that I might have some small snack, and then made my way.  It was cool and overcast until 9 or so, by which time I had crossed from Minnesota to Iowa, and I stopped in Lansing for a hearty breakfast–my first hot meal since the night before last.  For the rest of the day, the sun beat down with intensity and my skin is now baked red.  The barges pass with greater frequency and despite the warnings I have received, I find their bow wakes and engine turbulence to be negligible.  I believe these warnings were given under the assumption that I travel by canoe, where as my kayak is most well-suited to turbulent waters and is unaffected by waves.  Pine or fir are now almost completely absent from the shores.

Day 24: 37.5 Mi.  1 Lock.

Traveled between the green velvety bluffs bordering the railroads for three or four hours in the morning, arriving at the city of La Crosse—so named for the net and ball games played by the Indians first observed there.  It possessed one of the larger downtown riverfronts I have seen, outside of the Twin Cities.  And it was reaffirming to see that the commercial shift away from river boats and railroads to highways and their attendant strip malls and sprawl seems to have not affected this section of the river.

While enjoying refreshment in town, a dark thunderous cloud covered all, and the skies dumped forth an immense quantity of rain.  I reveled in my good fortune, having at just that moment entered the warmth and dryness of an eatery.  I was obliged to remain in town for well over an hour to let the storm pass.  However, back on the water, a new front moved in and I received a soaking.

Clumps of aquatic grass are strewn about the channel and frequently become entangled in my rudder or drive, slowing my speed by as much as ½ mph, which can amount to as much as 12% of my pace.  Thus I was frequently obliged to disengage the mechanisms from the hull and pull off the weeds.  This, combined with the rough water of the storm conspired to slow my pace below what I had hoped.  I was also delayed for some time at Lock 8, and have now just arrived at an eligible campsite at near dark.  No hot dinner for me tonight as I have not the inclination to cook or clean, but only to roll up peanut butter and jelly in a tortilla.  Having merely a few snacks for the last eight hours, I shant mind such a meager dinner at all.  Witnessed a double rainbow right before sunset, the end of it so near it seemed certain that I would reach it.

Day 23: 43 Mi.  2 Locks

For the last several days impressive bluffs have appeared along the river.  They are a welcome change from the generally flat, geologically uninteresting terrain of northern Minnesota.  The trees are now full and a rich green carpet covers the tall bluffs; occasionally sandstone or limestone bedrock crags emerge from the top in a rusty or tan display.  These bluffs hem the river in, leaving but little room on either shore.  Every two hours or so I pass a small settlement, extending along the bank, but only three or four streets deep, due to the geography.

In one such town, Fountain City, I stopped for lunch and was treated with utmost graciousness by the café proprietor, Nan.  This café is quite old, retaining its tin ceiling, marble countertop, and wooden bar stools.  Like the other riverside hamlets in the region, Fountain City possessed a great many historic brick or stone buildings lining its quaint streets.

For the last several days, the railroad has followed the river along each bank and I am thus frequently witness to long chains of rumbling boxcars and the blowing of the locomotive’s whistle—sounds I find soothing.  The only substantial town I passed alongside was Winona, which possessed a handsome waterfront park.  Though a Saturday, all was unusually quiet—no one to be seen along the water and no cars moving in town, which lent an eerie aspect to the scene.  Met once again with my mother and the timing could not be more fortuitous—a cold hard rain began just as we joined, and did not let up for nearly four hours.  I, however, was dry and content and well fed within the shelter of her motor home, known as the Motherload.

Day 22: 45.5 Mi.  2 Locks

Overcast skies for the bulk of the day, which moderated the temperature nicely.  Experienced my first substantial tailwind today and it could not have come at a more providential location—Lake Pepin.  This lake was 20 miles long and consumed most of the day.  Had the winds been in front of me it would have made for a most laborious and disagreeable passage.  As it was, with the wind at my back, I was buffeted by large rolling waves from behind.  This made keeping a true course most difficult, and I was frequently swamped by the crashing waves.  My bulkheads remained secure though, and I had only to bail a quart of water or so at day’s end.

I reached the town of Wabasha after 6.5 hours of paddling, greatly fatigued and my knees suffering in the joints.  Had a dinner of fish and then recuperated at the VFW and American Legion where cold beer was proffered.  There is a custom in these regions of purchasing small cardboard tickets as some form of game of chance.  The practitioners of this game evidently enjoy it to excess, as large piles of these discarded tickets could be seen accumulating beneath the bar stools.

After it cooled I continued to Lock and Dam #4, alongside the attractive hamlet of Alma.  It appeared to be a mere two streets deep, running the length of the river, all the dwellings picturesque and historic.   I find travel from 7-9pm to be the most agreeable time, as the sun is low, the birds and frogs filled with song, and the water glassy.  I have seen but a little wildlife since above St.  Paul, save ducks and heron, though I did spy a doe wading along the river’s edge at dusk.

Many of the banks are sandy, which affords me an eligible location to stop for the night, and I have now done so on an unnamed and long narrow island.  It is a most peaceful evening, save the incessant mosquitoes.

Day 21: 40.5 Mi.  1 Lock, 1 Lake.

Very easy day today, good current, minimal wind.  Barges are now a regular sight along the river.  A short day today, in anticipation of a lengthy disagreeable crossing of 20-mile-long Lake Pepin tomorrow.  Spending the night on Trenton Island, across from Red Wing, which I explored today on a bicycle loaned to me by the marina owner.  Well fed on walleye for lunch and salmon for dinner.

Red Wing

Day 20: 10 Mi  1 Lock

A healthy current has helped me along the river at nearly 6 mph.  The restoration of my drive to its full capability has improved my progress immensely.  I now glide smoothly across the surface with little disturbance and vastly less effort.  The river south of St. Paul is predominated by the trappings of industry: railroads, barges, power plants, etc.  I now have the red and green buoys placed by the Corps of Engineers to indicate the channel and have no further concerns for low water or obstructions.

After some miles the industrial landscape gave way to empty wooded banks, many with sandy shores that will make for excellent camps.  Stopped briefly in Hastings for refreshment and continued to Diamond Bluff.  The St. Croix River joins from the east and I now travel the boundary of Minnesota and Wisconsin.

Rendezvoused with my mother in Diamond Bluff; she has traveled from OR, via CA, UT, SD, etc., to MN on an expedition of her own, and we will now head south along the river together, making camp together whenever practical.  Weather perfect: overcast, cool, minimal breeze.

Day 19: 45 Mi.  1 Lock.