(Scroll down to see the pictures)

What to do? If it were just me to think about, the river was still there and needed paddling. This wasn’t about me though. It is about my grandchildren and it wouldn’t do much good to die. After a sleepless night I made the decision : either hitch a ride or walk to Memphis. It was Good Friday but it  was time to try for a ride.

Two companies came up on the internet so I went to the one at Vicksburg Port. There was a large workshop about 1m above the water with a couple of vehicles on the pavement outside but not a soul in  site. A concrete ramp to the river was evident but was all but submerged. From the ramp was a walkway with the land end about 30cm below water and a temporary grating 5m long leading to it. At the top of the walkway was about an acre of barges tied together with a few tugs and other work boats around the outside. An office building stood in the middle about 1m above deck level. Once on the barges it felt just like any other workshop area on land. The only difference was that this one could move up and down 15m over a year.

The receptionist inside was just as expected when she heard my story; sympathetic, friendly and helpful. Nope, she couldn’t help because they were just a repair company. However, she called her boss who suggested trying Magnolia Marine, just back up the road and turn right at the big propellor in the concrete.

Magnolia Marine was deserted but some guys next door were working on a trailer and reckoned staff would be back Monday. Decision time again. Start walking or wait until Monday risking losing two days. There were still some things that needed doing like setting up the GoPro on the kayak after the first two had technical problems, fix the toilet in the van, waterproof the tent, try yet again to find a decent portable stove and keep looking for a spare paddle. Buying a decent wing paddle in Australia is a simple trip to a kayak store but in the USA it was proving elusive. The stove was another bug bear. The only one that I had found that came with readily available fuel took 30 minutes to heat enough water for a meal to 75 degrees. The one that was like we had in Australia could be found in specialty stores and at Walmart but fuel cans, “Sorry sir, we outa those.”

Monday morning 7.30am found me at Magnolia Marine. After a brief wait senior VP Roger Harris came out and we talked about my predicament. He was not confident of a lift with his company because they transport fuel but he reckoned that he would find something via the resupply store in town. Before lunch, true to his word, Roger rang me saying, “Be at the store at 4.00pm. We should have one of our boats coming through about 5.30pm”. He told me what my restrictions would be which were fine, and so it was, I had a ride on the Emily Davis.

The Emily Davis is a 3000hp twin screw pushboat built in 2013. These boats typically haul around 21,000 barrels of petroleum and run all over the inland waterway system. She is captained by Beau Cummins but more about him later. A crew boat runs out to the tugs with personnel and a few pallets of supplies. A ramp leads from the land to a barge which is exactly the same height above the water as the crew boat allowing easy forklift access although the forklift drops the pallets onto the boat and pushes them in. All I had to do was get into the truck driving onto the barge and then hop onto the crew boat.

We motored out to the Emily Davis that had pulled into a tributary with lower flow to drop off a full fuel barge. Coming alongside, the crew boat was firmly tied to the tug and four of us offloaded the pallets of food, paint, electrical and mechanical spares. Most of the boxes were for the galley and mess area. “You’ve got the cook’s room,” I was told, so I deposited my bag there and headed out to watch the machinations of giving another tug our full barge and re-securing the remaining two empties.

Perhaps I should have just watched but I had my life jacket on and assisted a little when I could. There is a 40mm 4:1 rope system that winches the barges back to the forequarters of the tug, a 75mm rope at the centre and lateral 25mm wire ropes each side. We only had two empties to push but fuel barges are bigger, about twice as big at 90m x 6.5m x 3m. When I was asking Rob, the engineer, I guessed a depth of 10ft but he told me with, I forget what liquid exactly, that it was 9.5ft. There are of course two types of people in the world, engineers and others. Being on the “others” side of that balance is not appealing to me. For all our faults, and the jokes about our thinking that is simply logical, we do have a way of understanding the world. Well that’s the way we look at it even though we have to accept there are other views.

The guy that I had met at the store came out to refuel and water us. Perhaps it was just my ignorance not expecting what was entirely logical, but he was driving a pusher tug with a barge in front. Everything, absolutely everything apart from the crew boats is done by barges skilfully manoeuvred by pusher tugs. Even a ferry across the river is a barge with ramps, and a pusher tug. We loaded about 50,000L of fuel, about a quarter of a tank, in about 45 minutes as night descended. A US Coastguard vessel slipped quietly up the river past us. They have lots of rules which everyone obeys and are really like the police, only on the water. It is very strange for someone like me to see the coastguard 1000km from the coast though.

My accommodation was not what I expected but a whole lot better. It is a small room but not pokey and it has its own toilet and shower. On the same level is the mess which seats nine, the galley which is like a large kitchen, but with a bit more storage area and very large fridges and freezers, and the engineer’s room opposite the cook’s room. Two levels up is the crew lounge with comfortable seats and a TV. Between that is crew, captain and pilot. Right at the top is the bridge with all the latest in electronics, commanding a great view of the barges, the river and its banks.

I spent many hours on the bridge absolutely fascinated by the skill of the captain and pilot. The captain is Beau Cummins, a big man with a pony tail to the bottom of his back. Turning sixty, he has spent his life on the water and he simply loves his work. We watched sunrises and sunsets together, shared yarns, talked bs, and agreed on what is wrong with the world. From another country, maybe very different to each other, the commonality was impressive. I even tried my Nigel joke which translated just fine.

The captain is the boss. Under him is the pilot, Larry, who is 53 with huge experience. Then there is the relief mate Matt. After a day though, Matt left to go and witness the birth of his first child. Rob, as I said, is the engineer. Billy, the tankerer, came on when Matt left. Shay and Jason are deck hands. That’s the crew, but for 2/3 of the time there is also a cook, whose room I had. This boat works 30 days on and 15 days off. There are other boats in the fleet that work 30:30.

The boat is dry, as I suspect are all boats. Thirty days straight with the same people would be hard if there was conflict. Couple that with 6hrs on, 6hrs off and it is a lifestyle completely different to what most would call normal. What probably binds everyone together is the love of what they do. From the outside it seems like it is a quiet life, not a lot of pressure, not much to do even. Then it is action stations, hard, fast, careful, skilled, until the action is over again. If something goes wrong it goes wrong fast. Shit happens sometimes. That’s why it is called shit. It is unexpected, it happens despite all safety procedures and must be dealt with. Perhaps the best example was at Natchez when I was on the river for a few days, and the support crew witnessed a barge group come apart and hit the bridge with six knots of current running. Just before the Emily Davis picked me up she caught a tug that had lost its steering and was spinning like a top down the river. No safety manual, no safety inspector, no words will be able to fix a situation like those. Experienced people will achieve extraordinary things calling on decades of knowledge and intuition and they will sort it out when shit happens.

Australia has become so ridiculous with its safety rules and regulations that individuals now are not allowed to be responsible for their own safety.  I say this thinking about an example to the contrary. In WA you can go and climb a big tree. There are three trees, the smallest of which is 58m high. Anyone can do it. It is unsupervised and there are no safety ropes. Has anyone fallen? Not to my knowledge. Why? Because they hang onto the ladder. The more fear, the tighter the grip. I almost crushed the steel rods with my fear.

These guys wear life jackets when working out on deck but they don’t tie off. They are allowed to think for themselves. I have heard Beau speak to the guys. He wants them to be safe. They want to be safe. They also want to get the job done and be allowed to think for themselves. At the top, the company wants them to be safe. In what is supposed to be the most litigous country in the world they still know how to work and have not been reduced to rule abiding robots as foist on Australian workers by CEOs scared of their own shadow.

Travelling up to Greenville the mouths of the Mississippi could be seen in the context of the groins or dikes. From a height, with the map up on the large screen, huge lines of vortices and upwellings start at the groins and spiral downstream. The boats can often be seen in what appears to be a bad part of the river, where you would expect the current to be fastest. In effect though, they are riding the swirls and whorls and actually pick up speed. It is sort of counter intuitive but it is exactly what I have done to get across large flood offtakes, the Atchapalaya, and would have used at the power station had it not been so foggy.

At Greenville Larry, the pilot was at the helm. We headed for the bank just downstream of the port. Larry nosed the front barge in and using a balance of power and rudders positioned the rig at about 40 degrees to the bank. There are two rudders each side both fore and aft of the propellors and of course the engines can be operated in sinc or separately. I followed it all until he put the front rudders hard one way with the rear rudders hard the other way. Huh? Lucky it was Larry driving and not me. It wasn’t apparent why he was positioning us here at first, but when a tug came out with our barge it fell into place. The barge came up between us and the bank. It was secured beside our rear barge, the other tug slipped back down the river and then we moved over to push from a balanced position. With now three empty barges we headed up river to enjoy the sunset.

Next day, about 150km from Memphis we were sneaking over to the right bank to look for slow water underneath the bend. A big tow was coming down the river, still out of site but showing on the computer screen. On the screen it showed the unit was sliding. To drive these things downstream is similar in operation to a high speed jet boat ride in Queenstown. Jet boat drivers, after 150hrs practice on that stretch of the river are allowed to take passengers and show them some real driving. At top speed they skim centimetres from the rock cliffs. When they come to a bend they turn before they get there and the bow points towards the rocks while the boat slides around under power. Of course it is much slower with pusher tugs and barges but it works the same. The helmsman points towards the bend and allows the boat to slide around it. With this going on we throttled back enough to let the slider pass before we got to the bend. The tow was six barges wide and five long with probably the tallest tug on the river at five stories.

In the afternoon we were running close to the left bank. Beau pointed out rough water about a kilometre ahead and slowed down to hold position. “There’s a curent running off that point,” he advised. “There’s a boat coming down and I don’t want to have that water push me out into him.” After a few minutes the boat came into view. It was another big tow. Rather than push sideways across the river though, it continued towards us until less than two kilometres away before slowly turning to its left. It came right through the area that we would have been in, only missing us by about 200m. That was not right, it should have been much further out in the river. The other helmsman apologised and Beau took it with good grace. That’s what sixty years of living can do I suppose or maybe it is just the way with these guys. One knew he had stuffed up and our man just let him wear that for himself. With a few thousand tonnes at risk it was just as well that Beau had been cautious, just as Larry had been cautious before. Was it just good luck that we were cautious? I don’t think so. It is instinct, borne out of years of experience, perhaps a really close one in a similar situation, perhaps a story about that bend. It doesn’t matter what it was but it is all about feel, what feels right, what feels necessary. That’s what experience is. How this all works and what it has to do with climate change is interesting to contemplate. These tugs use a lot of fuel but per tonne of load they are very efficient. My figures are a bit different to the figures published by the Iowa Transport Department but that is probably because I used what was applicable to my experience. The Emily Davis can push six of the bigger fuel barges but I used three for my calcs. At that it can do the job of 450 semi-trailer fuel tankers. To reach the same efficiency the semis would need to get 6.5L/100km, about the same as a very fuel efficient family sedan in Australia. Is that possible? Not with current technology, that’s for sure. Tyre wear, all the mechnical wear that goes into 450 semis also needs to be balanced against that of a barge. There is no doubt, the river is a very efficient way of moving bulk materials. Added to that is the fact that it is still, amazingly, under utilised.

What of the future? It is highy unlikely that road vehicles can be solar powered with any technology we know. The area is not great enough to provide sufficient power. Let’s look at the three barge set of the size I was on. At 4000 square metres of surface area it seems that solar panels and batteries would work. Sure, it is not ideal, that it would be immensely more expensive than diesel, but it does calculate out as feasible. Who knows what the future holds but for this engineer it is comforting to know that there are possible solutions out there.

My room was adjacent to the engine room so I was acutely aware of any changes during the night. On the first night we stopped for about three hours because of fog. The second one we stopped a few times to let downstream barges come through narrow sections. “Narrow,” they say! There was nothing approaching narrow in my book. This was still a dirty great big river.

At the bayou in the Gulf where the US section started the fishermen said the river people are special. They help. I have never seen such cooperation anywhere as I have seen on this river. Ever captain or pilot that I heard on the radio would go out of their way for another boat, or tow as they call it. When I was waiting at the supply store there was a guy from Kirby manning the radio and watching the screen. He wasn’t being paid by anyone other than his own company and the companies using the river take it in turns to supply someone to do that job. Does all this make the river people special? I think not, they are the same as everyone else but they are in an environment that encourages something that is slipping from our other societies. They are simply an example to hold up to most people in the rest of the world and say, “This is how it should be”.

Klaas: Vicksburg, half in Louisiana and the other in Mississippi. Steve is away doing his thing and we went down to Wal-Mart to do some shopping.. On the way back, just before the bridge crossing between the two States we blew a tyre, totally shredded it. The “Berm”, a concrete strip between the driving lane and the concrete edge wall just accommodates the widths of the car. .It took me an hour to unload the back of the car, uncover the tools and lower the spare tyre which is manipulated through a hole in the rear bumper to the tarmac. I managed to loosen the wheel nuts and proceeded to place the jack and found the jack, which comes with the car does not lift it. Finally a police squad car parked behind me and came to help. A very nice officer who saw the problem but he had the same jack so telephoned for more help. After twenty minutes or so an other  squad car came and a DEO (Drug Enforcements Officer) came and between them and two jacks they put on the spare. They were fantastic, courteous, friendly and life saving. Try that in good old Ozze.  The first officer works for the city and the second the state. They got their uniforms dirty, did not want remuneration, and wished us a happy stay and safe travel. Wonderful people. The tyre was US $218 The joys of travelling.  (It’s all your fault) Klaas

 From the local River Angel:  (he paddled downstream last Saturday)

That’s awesome Steve… I’m glad you got a ride.   I paddled that 22 mile section above Vicksburg last Saturday…. And holy shit…   it was swift and strong current around those rock dikes. 

You absolutely made the right decision to hitch a ride.   Hopefully it will be better for you up north. 

Take care my friend and stay safe,

 Layne

Ready to go

Supply and crew boat before loading

Typical refueling barge

I think that’s the Coastguard

4:1 40 dia ropes

75 dia centre rope

Crew lounge. Door is at front overlooking the barges

The helm. Chart on left with all info on boats, speeds, direction, ETA next stop, our speed, lateral speed bow and stern. Radar next to it. Larry’s right hand is on the rudder. Dead man timer 60 seconds.  

Two fuel barges total 181m long

This is about 10m across. Bottom centre of the swirl is the danger area

Effect of groins, what the call dykes

New empty coming alongside

Delivery tug backing away

Shay pulls the lateral 25 dia wire ropes tight

Ready to go with three barges

Captain Beau, Jason and Rob’s finger. I would have sworn I was taller than Beau.

Two engineers together

Changing crew

Bye bye Emily Davis

Klaas’s helpers. Pretty impressive eh.

It is Easter Sunday and we are in limbo. Tomorrow I can try to get a barge to Memphis. If not I will walk.

The river beckons at me. Although Klaas looked at it from the top of the hill and counselled against getting back on it, I have no issue with the stretch that I can see. It is the really bad bits out in the wilderness that are the worry. The lack of land is also a concern and I won’t try spending the night in a hammock in the trees as one group did coming down the river a few years ago. If I can’t get a barge I will walk the next 350km up the highway. After all, the goal is to get to Paris.

Interesting the effects of grandchildren have on one. When each of them was born I felt as protective as I did when my children were born. This feeling consolidated my actions around Climate Change, especially as it was on top of my vow to make a difference every day after I didn’t die in Central Australia in 2006. Their faces now stare at me when I think of the river. What that means I have no idea, but it is useful to remind me that getting to Paris is the goal and winning against a river is not important. The battle is probably ego driven anyway.

Here is an article from the Rivergator.org. It is going downstream but the  effect is the same.

“As you pass the bottom of Racetrack you might notice two man-made monuments grazing the horizon of trees and bluff ridges.  The first is highlighted with an eruption of steam clouds.  It is the cooling tower of grand Gulf Nuclear Power Plant, which is still a good twenty miles downstream.  The other is a congregation of tall cranes, all rising from the same vicinity directly downriver, from here less than five miles.  This is LeTourneau.  It is difficult to ascertain exactly what is going on at LeTourneau, even after you make a close sweep of the site from the cockpit of your kayak or the seat of your canoe.  In fact it is a remarkable venture.  An engineering wonder.  LeTourneau constructs oil derricks and oil platforms for transport to waters worldwide.  Most probably end up in the Gulf of Mexico, but some go to the North Sea, the Irish Sea, and other destinations.  It looks like some kind of crude construction site, like something you might find thrown up on the beach at the start of a war.  But the crude simplicity belies its sophisticated method, borne out of years of trial and error and brilliant ingenuity by its founder, Robert Gilmour LeTourneau (November 30, 1888 – June 1, 1969).

The construction site looks shaky: the derricks are completed on top of giant plateaus of sand that have been arranged along the river’s edge.  This is done on purpose. They slide the finished work to the water’s edge using RG LeTourneau’s big earth-moving machines.  After completion, and employing gravity as an assistant, the derricks and platforms are eased over the edge of the river.  Timing is carefully planned with an eye on river stages.

Known throughout the construction world as, The Dean of Earthmoving, LeTourneau is considered to this day to have been the world’s greatest inventor of earthmoving and materials handling equipment. Few manufacturers of that era had such a profound effect upon the art of earthmoving as did LeTourneau. Just two years prior to his death, LeTourneau recorded his thoughts about the future of earthmoving equipment: “Within the next few years construction machinery will grow bigger and bigger, and more and more powerful. Instead of ‘tons’ of capacity, they’ll all be in ‘hundreds of tons’ and instead of hundreds of horsepower, they’ll all be rated in ‘thousands’ of horsepower. We’re already seeing it in big hauling units in the mines, and believe me, when the contractor and mining companies start looking for bigger and more profitable hauling units and earthmoving equipment, I’m going to be right there, the firstest with the mostest.

This brings the current water level into perspective

The above story gives some idea of the importance of the river for commerce and indeed the American economy.

Klaas         I’m taking a PHD in parking big rigs, and I mean BIG RIGS. In our present park there are 67 spaces and we have a lot of fun  every afternoon watching new ones come in. Without exception they drive their 50′ monolith units, often towing a small 4 wd car up onto their allotted concrete slab and stop. The passenger door opens and the wife gets out and walks to the back and starts gesticulating with arms and hands. They all have different ways to tell their beloved ones, who are driving,  how to back or drive to the left or right and invariably the communication is not understood by hubby, who than puts on the parking brake and gets out, with great difficulty for a number of octogenarians and the arguments start, sometimes heatedly with language like ;;”I told you a thousand times you stupid cow” etc. Some drivers are so pedantic about parking, they insist it has to be parked right down to millimetres. Than the ritual of “Hooking Up”. First of all the electricity, than the water supply, than the sewer outlet ,than the levelling, than unhooking the tow, than the making up, (not always and I expect a number finish up in the divorce court.). and than, operating the slide-outs and finally ” drinky poohs.” But always inside their rigs with the blinds down ( What would the neighbours think ) Every site has a table with bench seats but less than 5% use them. They lock themselves in their mobile castles and hide, coming out briefly to let their poodle wee. Next day the whole process starts in reverse order. Klaas

WHAT IS A BLOG?

DOES IT SIT ON A LOG?

CAN YOU SEE IT DURING FOG?

DOES IT ROTATE LIKE A COG?

DOES IT WERE A CLOG?

IS IT FOUND IN A BOG?

THAT’S ALL, OFF I LOG.

Paddling Up the Lower Mississippi

With Brian Anderson at US Army Corps of Engineers Vicksburg

 My journey so far has been up the river from New Orleans to Vicksburg, home of the US Army Corps of Engineers who control the river. And control it they do. The sheer magnitude of the levee system and river structures is mind boggling. That said, the engineers are under no illusion about the limit of their control. Even with the mighty resources of the USA, mother nature can still have her way.

The first 280km was bad enough with strong currents and very busy traffic with huge sets of barges and ocean going ships. All the time the river was rising steadily, fed mainly by the Ohio flooding but at that point things turned worse. Thirty percent of the river is diverted down the Atchafalaya River which, as I passed through was 200,000cfs, or about 500,000ML/d. The flow against me then went from 400,000 cfs to 600,000 cfs which in anyone’s terms is a lot of water.

The river is unlike anything we have. It is contained within levees but there are large wilderness areas within those levees. The Corps of Engineers have to keep the river functional for the huge volume of traffic, and they now need to provide sediment to the delta area below New Orleans to stop it disappearing below the water.

We all know and respect the Corps of Engineers but it was interesting to actually visit and feel a little about the organization. Unlike Australian organisations they seem to think that people qualified in the field are best to run the organization so you will find an Engineer, Hydrologist or someone used to doing calculations on the river in the top job. You will also find decisions being made by engineers. The building is like stepping back in time, but to a good era, before the nonsense started about engineers not being managers. Books and maps abound. Technical discussions with managers is easy.

At present a huge hydrological study is underway to determine whether their parameters are still valid and what the effects of climate change might be. My belief is that the engineering has reached a zenith. Massive structures, massive control, engineering might, have all been well and good and allowed the river to do what was wanted but the approach seems to be softening. Environmental concerns are being addressed with care.

The USA, just like Australia, is turning into a drain with everything speeding up. Farmers are even tiling parts of their fields to get rid of water more quickly. The river therefore has a lot more water flowing down it during floods than 200 years ago. We saw in Toowoomba and Grantham in 2011 what drastically reduced times of concentration can do in an abnormal event. Interestingly 2011 also was the biggest flood they have had here.

Interestingly with the river contained within levees, the term “flood” is not used until levels are extreme. At present the river in Vicksburg is up 43ft, about 13m and that is just at the start of flood level. Society has learned to live with river levels moving up and down more than 10m. Fishermen can be seen prowling the treetops in their tinnies on the weekends. Low, medium and high water levels are talked about with the river being vastly different at all stages.

There are many groins on the banks that direct flow into the centre of the river to keep it scouring. The effect of these at high flows can be quite alarming to a kayaker trying to battle up river, even though they are submerged under many metres of water. Here is an excerpt from my blog. I found out later that I was right over a “big momma” of a groin:

The mouths of the Mississippi were smaller here, just licking their foaming lips, but they were there alright and not in a friendly way. A big log jam jutted out into the river. White water rushed past. Not wanting to think about it I paddled hard towards the edge of the log. Crashing into the white water I was thrust 30m into the river in a second. Two seconds it was 50m as the rudder responded. Paddling desperately I had held my ground but only just. I crept back towards the log jam just holding my ground. About 3m out there was a standing wave. That gave me enough to inch forwards. Go, go, go. With every ounce of strength I had, the kayak inched forward. The top of a small tree was 30m ahead and just inside the line of logs. Got to make that. Got to make that. Got to make that. It echoed around my head. The carbon wing blade flexed in the water as I thrust like a man possessed. Past the point of no return I was above the log jam. A broken blade, even maybe a missed stroke and that could be my last. The river was rough, it was ugly and I was bouncing like a cork. This was committed. No way back. The tree under the water started to break the flow, I was winning. Thirty seconds later it was all over, I was through. Tricky was not the word I would have used. It was a bastard! Never, ever again do I want to flex a carbon fibre wing paddle.

It is interesting to combine academic skills with real life observations. For my money the river is getting straighter. At these high levels I see the inside of bends collapsing a lot more than the outside. This seems to be in line with Corps of Engineers goals because they do not want the river wandering, forming what we know as billabongs. It is a commercial river of great economic significance and must fulfill that task.

For kayakers wanting to go upstream the river is very, very difficult. Where there is land it is usually OK with eddies and friction from the bank being of assistance. Most of the time though, the land is a long way back through the trees with water streaming at you. Forty three feet at Vicksburg is as high as this little black duck can cope with. He has no more strength to give.

Steve Posselt    www.kayak4earth.com

 

Natchez to Vicksburg

To the ramp

It was cool but fine. Chef cooked a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs. The kayak was loaded and ready to go. All up it was about 110kg. We walked to the boat ramp which was about a kilometre and a half. Trooper Green, whom I had seen on the road before I walked into camp turned up. “Did you have those beers for me?” he asked. “One for you,” I replied, “the rest were for me. Thought one was enough for ya.” Seems like the humour translates because we had a merry chat before he grabbed his hat out of the patrol car ready to push me into the water. “Need to do the job proper,” he reckoned.

And so he did

Down the ramp, into the water and I grabbed a wheel and pulled it up. Klunk. Both wheels sat behind me in the raised position. Off up the river? Nope, not yet. The extra weight and the front wheel made the kayak a bit top heavy for serious turbulence. It had to come off so back into shore where I nosed up the ramp while Klaas removed the offender.

Passing under the bridge I could see a few buildings on the left and the town of Natchez on the right bank. The current was not too bad, a few people were walking and the kayak was slipping through the water OK, if slightly slower because of the weight. All in all a pretty good start to what was purported to be about 130km to Vicksburg.

For a send-off two sets of barges appeared up ahead. The first required paddling around them but there was space between the bank and the second set. That’s it for now I thought, and so it was. There were no more barges on the banks after that. It was five hours before I even saw the first pusher tug and barge set for the day.

The last of them. 

About mid-day two islands appeared with a narrow gap between the first one and my bank. This was the smallest gap so far and the flow was only about 3km/hr. The levee was a long way back behind the trees somewhere. I was next to the tops of trees so there was no way to get out of the flow. It was a bit of a plod but slow and steady does the job.

Plodding along

The aim for the day was to get to the Farmers Silos about 32km from Natchez. Adam reckoned even an Australian couldn’t miss them. Actually, he didn’t say it that way, he is far too polite. At 2.00pm there they were right ahead and at 3.00pm I was there.

You will have to paddle off the river to get to them he said. Don’t think so 

There was also some sort of loader ahead but something was moving towards the bank quite quickly. Powering up for a couple of hundred metres I saw that it was a deer. They are powerful swimmers and I had to be quick to get a photo before slipping too far behind. It headed back towards the bank after I backed off, climbed out over logs and bounded off up the river in search of its mates that I think I may have seen just ahead of it.

Just got this photo 

A few hundred metres past them there was a grassy clearing with some cattle yards right at the edge of the water. I went about half a kilometre past but decided to be cautious and pulled in for the night.

Within an hour everything was ship shape with the tent up and a fire going. The wind was from the south east and quite gentle. Making the fire was a challenge until I realised that I needed dry grass, not leaves to start the small twigs. A beer was in my hand, a bag of crisps in the other and I was about to cook dinner. The wind came howling across the river from the north east  and blew the billyo out of the fire. The smoke took off across the ground, not rising much more than a metre all the way to the water on the other side of my little paddock.

You can just see the fire behind/left of the tent

I had a small stove with a tin with a wick coming out of it that I lit in the lee of an old cupboard that had floated down the river. Fair dinkum, if I had two candles it would have been better. It was cheap and might boil water for a cup of coffee in about an hour. The fire was still burning, even if horizontally, so I took the top off a can of stew and shoved it into the logs.

Before dark I crawled into my sleeping bag, read my book for a bit and fell asleep. The river was close but there was a mound about 100m away that I could retreat to if necessary, albeit that there were lots of fire ants about, and they like the high ground. Waking about every hour I kept a watch on the situation but all was well. Note to self: bring long johns camping next time. Brrrr.

It was a crisp morning but clear and bright. As the sun rose over the Mississippi its warmth penetrated my body and maybe even started to dry the dew from the tent. Stripping off my jacket I climbed into the kayak and rolled into the water for another slog up beside the tree tops.

After passing inside an island there was a clear path back out to the river but a substantial flow was coming down a channel towards me. The channel was only about 150m wide but opened out up ahead. Anything is preferable to the open river and I reasoned with all of that flow there had to be a way back to the river. A sparse forest of dead trees perhaps indicated the water had been deep through here for a long time. As the area widened the flow dropped down but that seemed reasonable enough. Eventually it became imperceptible and I ran into a log jam at 2.5km. No way through there. Maybe over to the left a few hundred metres. Nope. Give up mate. The flow coming in was all through the tree tops which are impenetrable. Tail between my legs I headed back the way I had come. Before turning left into the channel I should have taken I measured the flow at 4km/hr.

Through the dead trees

End of the road 

Outside and into the river the current was unforgiving. There was a constant drag towards the trees and thousands of logs crammed up against them. At least that confirmed the explanation of why there had been flow in a dead end reach.

A piece of high ground appeared. It stood out of the water by about half a metre but it was back about 20m inside the tree line. Picking my way inside the trees a huge log barred my way. It stood out into the river creating a flow that might have been possible to paddle against but maybe not. With dry ground though, there was the option of walking around it. Stepping out of the kayak I was careful not to disturb a group of fire ants floating on their nest. Wheels down and along the grassy shore to the other side of the log. Bugger, bites to my left ankle. Must have missed seeing that one. Into the water, find the fire ants and despatch them. I reckon the blighters come back from the dead and have another go. It took an hour before the last one was finally gone.

Walking around 

An hour later there was a fast section to get through so I filmed it and filmed me when I made it past. It wasn’t the hardest or most dangerous that I had been through, nor would I be going through but the footage is a bit alarming at how much effort it takes. No wonder a few minutes is required for recovery before moving on after something like that.

Back into the flow again for 400m which took about ten minutes and I pulled back in for another rest. Filming my reaction this time I was tired, out of breath, but still in control. After a sandwich and a drink I headed into what I reckoned was another 400m of slog. Boy was I wrong, it was about 4km. The reward at the end was worth it though. My first racoon, going about its business on a log jam near the bank watched with passing interest in this strange yellow thing coming past. Its eyes reminded me of the strange animal I had seen that night which seemed so long ago.

Look closely. It is there.

More land and an eddy.

Towed up the river again, popped out and easily made it past the point and there was another set of silos. Adam had not told me about them but they had to mean dry ground. The land around them gradually formed into a clear picture. There was a gravel parking area and maybe the top of a boat ramp just before them but I paddled past that and onto a concrete apron to step out onto. No fire ants on the concrete there.

The lawn had just been mowed and there was some sort of elevated office about 100m away. Next thing a dog spotted me and started barking. Guard dog maybe? A bit small I thought and the way it was carrying on I reckoned its position would be low down in the pack, just the one to sound the alarm and let the others fix it. Within a couple of minutes we were mates and set off together to explore.

What’s that? 

The wind was from the west and quite strong so behind the silos, right beside the river with the fire set up where the silos met was ideal for camping. Being the weekend there was no-one there and I figured any security would not come around that side anyway. With my new friend the camp was set up, would found, fire lit, beer and crisps opened and things were about as good as they could get.

I hadn’t seen my mate for a few minutes and wondered where she could be. Uh oh, there she is on the other side of the kayak. She had put her head inside the hatch and taken out the plastic container with my muesli that Lynne had made. With a gaping hole now in it 2/3 of the muesli was on the ground. I’m not too proud to share with a dog so I grabbed what was left and put the container in the hatch with the cover securely fastened. A repeat of that would not have been advisable so everything was locked away and just the essentials brought out for dinner.

The fire was very welcome as the sun went down behind the silos and it became cold with a chilling north wind building. My mate insisted that she sleep in the tent with me, but I was even more insistent that she didn’t. She slept all night beside the kayak. I was cold in my sleeping bag so I guess she was too, but she had survived colder nights without me.

About midnight a barge went past and sent waves crashing against a log that was on the bank just near the tent. There had been a few barges but my ears reckoned these waves were closer. You don’t get flash flooding on the Mississippi so I reasoned that the kayak was on the uphill side, that my feet were the closest thing to the water and worst case would be that I got wet feet before climbing out, unpegging the tent and moving it up the hill.

Dawn brought a realisation that my ears were correct. The water was not far from the tent, but not close enough to cause concern. While I had breakfast my mate took advantage of my carelessness and sneaked inside the tent. She was curled up and sound asleep just inside the door when I found her twenty minutes later.

My utensils leave a lot to be desired and I used the small skillet for heating up my coffee. After filling my small cup I sat it beside the fire, savouring its warmth while watching the sunrise. Whoosh, a gust of freezing wind and the ash was in the skillet. “Start again,” I thought, “Nah, let the day on the river begin. And so it was goodbye to my mate and into a stream of water coming under the loader. The river was up and the velocity through there was less than I had noted the previous evening. Wondering whether this was a good omen I streaked up the rapids before common sense came. The water was deeper than yesterday, that’s why the velocity was less just there. No good omen, sorry.

Map is soaking up water

Late morning I came to a large island that was a major landmark. Adam reckoned it had high ground on the far side but mid-day was too early to stop. The plan was to use the island as a cross over point. Vicksburg is on the east side so it had to be done some time. The trick was to paddle far enough up the left bank before launching into the flow to get to the downstream tip of the island. Too early and I would miss it and have to start the process again. Too late and valuable energy would be wasted flogging upstream.

Now, I figured. Let’s do this. It was only about 400m. Lining up trees on the island I could tell that I was crabbing across nicely, almost holding my position. Woops, lack of concentration and 100m is lost. About 2/3 of the way across I was going hard, losing ground and hoping that when I got behind the tops of the trees at the bottom of the island the flow would drop enough for me to catch up. The current started to slow a bit, I held my ground and made it with over 100m to spare.

Starting up the other side there was no current. None at all. That didn’t last of course, pretty soon it was just the general slog beside the tree tops. The other bank was a long way off but I could see a house on a hill. That had to mean there was land somewhere over there. I was beside the high ground Adam had referred to and when I thought I could reach the other side just downstream of the house I set off.

Slipping, slipping I crabbed across the wide expanse. A white strip of sand appeared up ahead on the island. Now that would have been a nice place to stop. No time for those thoughts so battling on I made it again about 2/3 of the way when things changed. The great mouths of the Mississippi were appearing. These are what I call the white water standing wave that is about 3m wide and 10cm high that comes out from the centre of the whirlpool. You don’t want to be in the centre of these big ones. Crash, splash, I slipped through the outside edge of one. A merry dance on the rudder pedals followed as I tried to miss the next one. Crash, splash again and then a rapid pirouette followed by a right turn to the bank and I was in big upflows. Water welled up in whorls about 30m across. Using the edge of these I could easily gain on the river and I made my way into the trees just upstream, of the house.

The house on the hill

A couple of old guys in a tinnie came out from behind the trees and we tried to talk. They couldn’t understand me, and I struggled with them but they did say to go behind the next set of trees and there was land near the house. With the water bottle in the cockpit getting low I needed the water from the rear compartment. The land was steep but it was land and I did get my water out. A stinging nettle attacked me through my trousers but that was a small price to pay for a replenished cockpit supply.

The next few kilometres was all about fighting a great rush of water heading through the trees into some sort of wetland area I guess. The other side of the river was where Adam had marked a section as tricky. He said he had come through that bit with river levels up near this height and recorded 11.1mph (17.9km/hr) so it goes without saying that I was not keen to go there.

The wind started to build from the west and things got wet. By things, I mean me. The wheel support make waves splash up to my armpits which is where the top of the spray skirt sits. The current was not too bad and I made good time, especially when some land appeared about 10m in on my right side. I even got an eddy but it stayed wet and messy.

The mouths of the Mississippi were smaller here, just licking their foaming lips, but they were there alright and not in a friendly way. A big log jam jutted out into the river. White water rushed past. Not wanting to think about it I paddled hard towards the edge of the log. Crashing into the white water I was thrust 30m into the river in a second. Two seconds it was 50m as the rudder responded. Paddling desperately I had held my ground but only just. I crept back towards the log jam just holding my ground. About 3m out there was a standing wave. That gave me enough to inch forwards. Go, go, go. With every ounce of strength I had, the kayak inched forward. The top of a small tree was 30m ahead and just inside the line of logs. Got to make that. Got to make that. Got to make that. It echoed around my head. The carbon wing blade flexed in the water as I thrust like a man possessed. Past the point of no return I was above the log jam. A broken blade, even maybe a missed stroke and that could be my last. The river was rough, it was ugly and I was bouncing like a cork. This was committed. No way back. The tree under the water started to break the flow, I was winning. Thirty seconds later it was all over, I was through. Tricky was not the word I would have used. It was a bastard! Never, ever again do I want to flex a carbon fibre wing paddle.

There is something about the limit of physical exertion that impacts on the mind. Half an hour later I was recalling an email from my daughter Heidi. She had reckoned there was still time to do my Canada paddle in a few years. After all, I would live forever. I guess children like to think like that. This dredged up the reasons for the trip, my kids, their kids and I was a blubbering mess until I straightened myself out.

It was two hours before land appeared again so although there was a boat ramp up ahead I pulled in at 4.15pm. With nothing really to gauge against I didn’t realise how fatigued I was. Setting up camp, lighting the fire, washing and drying clothes and a quick wash for me in the cold, brown Mississippi settled me down nicely.

This one did not want to leave the tent

There was a lot of leaf litter about, as well as lots of dry timber. Being a like a local now, ha ha, I found some dry grass and made the fire easily. To put the tent up I used my paddle to rake the leaves back to bare sand. Stupid. The fire ants were down there. My solution was to cut off the stalks of the thorny green vine and anything else that could stick through the tent floor and lay the tent on top of the leaves. Give me Australian camping any day.

That night was warm. The air was still warm in the morning. As usual it took about an hour and a half to pack up and move out. My land was the last I saw for nearly two hours as I paddled beside the trees watching the water rush into them.

Something caught my eye. It was like a white box moving across the river very slowly. It eventually disappeared around the bend on my side, only to reappear five minutes later going the other way. Ah ha, it had black bits sicking out in front and behind. Could it be a ferry? Land appeared and the flow eased. The ferry came back. I was in an eddy and streaming along at up to 6mph. Could I get to it? Nope, it beat me, sliding in behind some trees about 5 minutes up ahead. I was nearly there when there was a great roar and back out it came. Churning white water it backed 200m into the river and then lo and behold, the white box broke away from the other bit and turned round., It was a small pusher tug controlling a barge with landing ramps at either end. As it crabbed its way back across the river churning white water rooster tails were thrown 2m into the air gradually melting into the river as they were swept downstream.

Here it comes 

 

There it goes

A barge set ground its way slowly behind me. Some sets are slow enough that I can hold them for maybe an hour so the race was on again. This one was slow and when I got an occasion bit of land and a break in the current I could make ground. This battle, all in my mind of course, raged until he crossed to the other side as I rounded a bend and saw the bridge. It was still 1½ hours away but it was Vicksburg.

With the clock at 2.30pm and the GPS registering 81.93 miles (131.9km) I found a gravel ramp upstream of the Ameristar casino. It was deeply rutted and very steep, but it was dry and it represented safety. Austin from the Vicksburg post came down to do an interview an take some photos. While he was there the security guards came to tell me to bugger off. That wasn’t going to happen no matter what but they made a phone call and I was allowed to leave the kayak behind some concrete barriers just off their paved area. There was no chance of them allowing me to leave it with them. After a quick change of clothes I headed for the casino. The doorman was very friendly. Yes, they had cold beer. No there could not be a steak as the restaurant was not open. There were nice salads in the bistro though. Bloody rabbit food I thought as I set off up the hill to start hitch hiking back to Natchez.

Let’s say 132km

In a bit of a rut 

They let me keep it here. 

Two hours later, a five kilometre walk to highway 61 that runs between Natchez and Vicksburg, there was no lift. I had a green and yellow kangaroo flag. Some people tooted and waved, even a truck driver. Fat lot of good that was when I wanted a ride. In the end I decided people don’t hitch here. The locals are all lovely when you meet them but they a very fearful lot. In the end the crew picked me up, not without problems but at least I was back in the van at 8.45pm and the good thing was the kayak was back in its box on the roof.

The next day we moved to the RV park at Vicksburg and settled in for at least a week. Layne Logue came to see us. Like Adam Elliot at Natchez he is a River Angel. Nothing is too much trouble for them. They help people on the river with whatever they need. Layne is even a civil engineer so there was much to talk about over a beer.

Klaas:

We launched Steve on his way to Vicksburg in style.Trooper Green drove his squad car down to the ramp and wanted to know all about it. Steve had forgotten something back at the caravan so the Louisiana State trooper drove him there and back and helped launch Steve with a mighty shove.The kayak felt unstable with all the extra weight from food and water for three or four days so Steve came back and we removed the front wheel and off he went.Lynne picked up the front wheel and its solid aluminium frame but Trooper Green would have none of that and put her and the wheel in the squad car and drove her to the trailer park. What a nice man.He wistfully said he wanted to arrest me for being “Past my Use By Date” but could not be bothered as the paper work would be too much.

Hi everyone. Yesterday Lynne and I crossed off one of my long standing wishes of my “Bucket” list. We went on an airboat on the great Bayou. It was fantastic and better than I thought it would be. These craft fly over the water and land at over 100 km per hour. It was a thrill of a life time. They stop every now and then to show you an alligator, including “Big Albert” who measures 13’2″. Plenty of bird life including breeding Bald Eagles and large South American water rats with a bounty of US$5 on their heads. It was a fascinating day. Master Steve in the meantime is still paddling towards Vicksburg, overnighting wherever he can find a spot.

SOS-Mayday- Mayday/// Exiting , news worthy. Last night a big bang, than sirens going off and pandemonium on the mighty Mississippi.A tugboat pushing loaded barges down river collided with a pylon of the bridge ,the multiple barges broke apart and drifting at around five knots down river threatening to take out everything in their path.Tug boats big and small came to the rescue, pushing the barges around the bend and into the bank. Two tugs took about five minutes to slow down two of the heavily laden barges and push them away from the main loading docks threatening to smash up the infrastructure. The police closed the bridge while engineers looked if the bridge was compromised but the all clear was given and we all went to bed.

Mississippi Blues

Well haven’t there been some changes since my last blog.

1. The route has changed, I am turning right somewhere and going to New York. Canada will be a side trip if I have time.
2. The way of operating has changed so daily updates will become updates when I can. I will do stretches of the river and then come back for the crew.

No. 1 was big for me. It has been my goal to traverse North America longitudinally for the past eight years. This trip is not about me or my desires, so if it has to go it has to go. Paris is the goal and connecting the Chaotic Climate events on the way will still happen. Maybe, someday I will do North America just for me and just for fun.

No.2 is a huge disappointment. During all of my trips before I have done a daily blog. At this stage though, if I am on the river for days at a time I am not going to attempt blogging. Survival going up a flooded river will do just fine. Sorry.

Next stop is Vicksburg which is three or four days away. That is where the US  Army Corps of Engineers have their Mississippi headquarters so I will see if they will talk to me.

The kayak is loaded to the hilt for the trip to Vicksburg so it is now well over 100kg. The equipment situation looks fine and tomorrow we find how it handles in the river.

Last night I went to a Gulf South Rising meeting. Inspirational. There are still major issues there and it is not all BP. Other oil companies have cut canals and destroyed fisheries. Cancer is on the increase and clean up people are sick. Maybe we are starting to see a worldwide revolt against corporations and oligopolies that pretend to be democracies. It will be a long and tough battle though.

On that note, finally GetUp and John Hewson are advocating what I have been advocating for nine years. If you want to do something about climate change buy green energy. When you have done that get your friends to buy green energy. When you have done that get your work to buy green energy. When you have finally done that don’t stop until you have got everyone buying green energy.

That’s what I have been saying and it is a way to keep the grid working. With battery and solar costs coming down people will start to simply go off grid, most likely well before 2020 and what will that do? Who knows but it will be a new paradigm.

Klaas: (you have to love the old bugger)

Someone mentioned dementia

while I was in absentia

was I there or somewhere else

I don’t  know, unless someone tells

now i’m totally confused

memory maybe infused

with the dreadful booze

or brain cells shaken loose

Dear oh dear, what to do

I vaguely remember being part of a crew

to support, I can’t remember who

Maybe I’ll have another drink

to enable me to think

and understand my dementia

 

Deer Park is about 25km south of Natchez/Vidalia. It was an ideal pickup point we thought. That was until Adam told us that we were not looking through the trees at the Mississippi. It is the old Mississippi, cut off at the top with a 20m inlet/outlet at the southern end. Imagine what would have happened if the crew were waiting here for me. It would have been a disaster. That said research on Google Earth, which I do every time would have picked that up.

Land transport for the people in the houses

Typical house on the old bank. Life is different when not behind the levy.

It’s about 2.5km to the tree line behind this paddock

Note the outlets to flood the paddock

This wasn’t working. Maybe run its course.

Nice, you see more when walking. (circa 1850)

Sneaking in the back way I guess

Local paper and the man with the beer when I reach camp

29.0km for the day. That’s about my limit these days.  515km since the Gulf.

Klaas:

When I first came to this land

loneliness drove me around the bend

But since I purchased a car GPS

I have fallen in love,I must confess.

with the voice I have christened Michelle

who daily guides me through cities hell

and never makes a mistake

or makes me late.

She is becoming my obsession

and now i’m making a confession

I want to take her in my arms

and caress all her obvious charms

I lie awake and think of her

I dream all night and hear her purr

I want to buy her diamonds and fur

I call her name out aloud

next thing I know I get a clout

The girlfriend yells

“Who the hell is Michelle”

This is where Kyle did not want me to end up

After discussions with Adam at Natchez we think Kyle meant 200,000cfs not 200cfs. That will come up when I have something to say about the river. I am close to having an idea of what it is all about and where in engineering history we are at. There is no doubt the Lower Mississippi is an engineered feature, not a natural river.

After the drama yesterday I decided to just walk up to Natchez which should take two days, so the front wheel had to go back on.

Always present your best side eh mate. Yep, here’s mine.

This is not a cow pat that the dung beetles have got to. The little buggers left small pustules on my legs at some bites yesterday.

Lynne walked the first 2.1 miles (3.4km) with me

The road heads across the paddocks. Soy beans left, rice right.

 The bayous inside the levy are flooded from local rain

Neat slip circle eh.

Thought Jed Clampett might be in the rocking chair but no.

 Typical sized house in many locations on the river. Fences are rare.

 And more on the other side of the river apparently. Good to see.

The horse dance is something I have seen many times in Australia. Seems like it is the same in the USA

Look at that thing coming along. What should we do?

Let’s run around the paddock and buck a bit

Look, it’s still there.

I think it’s OK, let’s have another look.

No comment. Deer fence with hide behind it. The farm is for sale.

Well it wasn’t too bad. The first four hours were a doddle really. Met lots of lovely people, some of whom simply could not understand why the mad Aussie would not let them take him and his kayak to Natchez.

Hey Harry, 112 steps per minute dropping to 108. Sorry, have not regained my youth. 29.2km for the day.

Klaas:    Today was a lot better than yesterday. Steve decided to walk rather than kayak the distance and so we had no trouble locating him as there is no other road. I decided to start making my own bread as all the loafs here are loaded with sugar. Adam is a wonderful bloke we met and a tremendous help to Steve as he is a kayaker and knows the river back to front. Not only did he buy my book, today he came and presented me with a beautiful Delft Blue Jar filled with Bols Genever. The elixir of life to a Dutchman. Great Gift mate and very much appreciated. Went swimming today and had a hot spa. Wonderful. Klaas.

 

 

 

 

The area where we parked yesterday was underwater after the river rose about another foot. What we didn’t realise is that fire ants nests float and when they brush against your leg they invade. Having just secured the spray skirt they attacked around the ankles.

As that little problem was unfolding Kyle from the US Army Corps of Engineers who control the structures came to tell me that it was too dangerous to paddle there. He was concerned about me being sucked into the dam gates and wanted me to start downstream in the river. That wasn’t smart, so I said I was going anyway. He requested I stay inside the willow trees for a few hundred metres which I did.

He reckons they let 200cfs (500ML/day) into the Atchafalaya system and that is about 1/3 of the Mississippi flow. I reckon that must be when the river is not flowing like it is now because there is certainly more than 1500ML/day coming down at present. The head difference is significant so they run a hydro power station at one of the offtakes.

He also said to cross the river because the draw into the hydro power station was severe. I noted to be careful and set off knowing that crossing the river in 20m visibility would not be on.

Fire ants aside, the first two miles was fine. Just when you think you’ve got them all another bite comes a bit higher up your leg. Not nice at all. Paddling had easy bits and tough bits.

After a couple of miles a fallen tree seemed to indicate something different in the river. Its base was towards me with fast flowing current streaming around it. The only thing to do in this situation is to get a run up from behind the tree and burst into the flow. Power on, swishing into the maelstrom the kayak was thrust 20m off the bank. I sat stationary paddling with all my strength. Bit by bit we inched forwards enough to creep back towards the bank. The current roared, the whirlpools had me doing a merry dance on the rudder pedals but I beat it. After five minutes I had won. Victory was fleeting though. I was now in a stronger current being swept into the hydro station river. There was no other option but to get to the bank, fast.

Visibility was about 10m. What to do? The only sensible thing to do was put the nose onto the bank, ease the back into the flow and allow the kayak to spin around. It was possible to paddle with one blade hitting the rocky bank and the other just inside the racing current. In a few minutes, which was about 20m, I was back to the fallen tree where I stopped paddling and watched the GPS. The flow that I had paddled against was 6.2mph (10km/hr). That is about the limit of a heavy, plastic sea kayak. The flow into the hydro power station river was greater than that.

With my tail between my legs and a little dejected I headed back to where I had started. Tomorrow the front wheel goes back on, the harness comes out and I walk to the RV site, hopefully doing the 34 miles or so in two days.

Lots of thinking to do about how this trip will go and how we cope. Standby for news.

Klaas:   What a horrible day so far. Up at five, the usual routine, teeth, pills, ablutions, coffee, make Steve’s lunch. Away by 6.30 and drive 36 miles, unload kayak, forced to walk through floodwater’s and get soaking wet.Step on fire ants nest, the flood waters have driven them out of there nests and they are all over the roadway and climb on board. Feet, into socks, up legs and certain private parts you only tell your mother about. Drive back 36 miles, arrive outside caravan, phone rings, Steve has aborted due to total white out and very dangerous conditions.Drive back 36 miles. Pick up Steve and Kayak, drive back 36 miles,  clean shoes of mud ,put in oven to dry. How was your day ?

Lynne.  A very dull and foggy day in natchez/vidalia.  Steve was unable to continue his kayaking as far too dangerous.  He will probably walk some of the way tomorrow and I may walk some of the way with him, if he is agreeable. Klaas might pick me up after an hour perhaps.. we’ll see how the day is.  Shopping later on.  A lovely deer ran in front of the car this morning, he was missing a hind leg, so perhaps hit by a car. I did feel sorry for him hobbling along but doing ok by the looks. We have our flying kangaroo flag tied to our van, looks good. I have given a few koalas away, little ones that you attach. They are proving very popular. Well, tomorrow is another day….cheers till then

Is that your kayak? Yeah, I think so.

The river’s this way

Told ya

Better go I suppose. Seeya.

Looks harmless

But those things that look like big thorns are really big thorns

Bloody logs

A view into the cockpit

Avoca ferry. The ferry master, Brandon, reckons the river is up 18ft. Like most of the river folk he wanted me to stop and accept his hopsitality.

It sure is an efficient way to move big lots of stuff

Saturday so the locals are trying their luck. Dunno whether fish or crabs

Very tricky. To the right it is too strong to paddle against. To the left you get dragged into the weir and the Atchafalaya River system (dead of course). The middle ground through very turbulent eddies worked fine to get across. Not a good thing for the Average bloke to try.

Huh? Would have been good to know about this a mile ago. Not that it would have made any difference. Obviously only cater for downstream paddlers.

The finish. They make power as the mighty Mississippi drops into the Atchafalaya system on its way to the Gulf. A distributary it is called. Look closely and you can see the pick up crew

Here he comes

Shame the right leg stopped working

Only 27.5km for the day

That’s Adam, the river guide from Natchez. A great bloke and a mine of information. Bit nuts about paddling though. Paddles anything he can find. A log would do.

Klaas:   You have no doubt heard about the trials and tribulations of the master yesterday. No one in his/hers right mind would attempt 78 km in one day paddling up-stream. Stevie, the “Wonder Boy” of course is like the Lord,  is omnipotent and thinks he can float over the currents. In the mean time, his ever faithful crew was instructed to retrieve him at around 6 pm. It was an 58 mile drive and we were finally in position and found no Master. 7pm  and night closes in. It is dark and the place is isolated in the middle of “No Where”. We had to leave the car up the track and were armed with torches and my flare gun. The place is boggy and massive spore of wild boar is everywhere.An owl sings his song and we wait. An other hour goes by and he rings that he is in total mist and can’t find us so instructs us to go home and try at first light next morning. I notice on starting the car that the petrol gauge. is on red and we would not make it home. I Google up the nearest outlet and  go some twenty miles the wrong way home to fill up and head for home. Two hours later I am totally stuffed, driving through fog we are home. We fall into bed and are back up at 4.30, make some sandwiches grab a bottle of orange juice and on the road again. We are there in position by daylight and the mist is impenetrable. We shout and cooed and finally he answers and  we were united. The crazy bastard did the distance but was defeated by total white-out to rendezvous.

From the swirling gloom,beyond the light, goading, taunting, looms Stevie boy, and Satan is his shadow. Klaas

 Lynne:     A good day today. We dropped Steve off at 8am today for a 17mile kayak to a power station . The pickup was at around 2.00pm.  We had a visit from a very knowledgable local, Adam.  He gave Steve lots of valuable information about the Mississippi as he has been travelling along it via kayak, canoe, and anything else he could paddle. Such a nice man and hopefully we will see more of him. His info. has been invaluable. He has given us great maps of the local Mississippi  area which i will be mounting on my wall at home.   I must make mention of Miss Green from Best Buys, She went beyond the call of duty to assist me with my new phone.  Thank you Miss. Been raining all day but not cold. I did not swim, nor do I want to,  in the Mississippi but I did swim and hot spa in the Park pool beside the Mississippi,  was a lovely sight.  We had roast pork for dinner, but no crackly on it. Very tender, we could not find any pumpkin in the supermarket.  Steve has photos of the current he battles every day, don’t know how he does it.  !! .We will be here in Vitalia/Natchez for another few days, twin towns, one in Louisiania and one in Mississippi as you cross the bridge, as in albury/wodonga. Cheers for now,  off to bed

 

After we moved on Tuesday we went off to explore the river. Access points are few and far between so the only point we could find after a good look around was 37 miles from the start. We keyed in the gravel road turnoff on the GPS. It was then about one kilometre off the bitumen and then a walk of about 100m along a boggy track to the river but it had to do.

The next day Lynne and I went to Baton Rouge to sort out Lynne’s phone. That was an all day job, 10hrs actually, but I did buy an AT&T hotspot so that we should have a more reliable internet. I also bought a tablet so that I can tether to the hotspot and use it when scouting the river. Haven’t turned that on yet.

With a bit of trepidation we set off early and I was out into the river and its mist just before 8.00am. After I crossed the little hill, not as high as on the way in because the river was up some more, and was on my way to the river I remembered my sunglasses and jacket. Too bad, time was tight and I was on a mission.

First obstacle was a log jam on a wharf so I had to battle through the petroleum storage tanks on the underwater river bank. There were some fierce eddies around them and then a struggle back into the treeline, slipping backwards, inching forwards, but inexorably heading towards the bank.

Log jam at the wharf

Into the tank farm. Tried the bank but too overgrown.

Soon after, at 9.00am, I received a call from radio WGSO990 Jeff Crouere that we had confirmed for 8.30am. Luckily I was able to pull into small tree tops and the interview was fine.

What a spot for a radio interview

The rest of the morning was pretty straight forward but slow. The flow comes through the trees and they make log jams so the number of rests and eddies had reduced dramatically from previous days.

The river roars and gurgles to the right. To the left it gurgles through the trees while logs and sticks do their twisting, swirling dances towards the kayak. You need your wits about you but it is all fine if you know what you are doing. A novice would definitely be in trouble though.

No idea what this is in the middle of nowhere

After 17 miles there was a way to get to the levee through the trees. The underbrush was all way below the water, so the levee was visible and I could hear the cars behind it. “Do I stop?”, was the burning question. Given the pick up problems we had previously encountered when changing pick up points I decided that the only thing to do was push on to the point where the crew had actually seen, and was just near the GPS marked road.

At this stage I knew it would be tricky because the going was slow but that was the call I made. About 4.00pm I called the crew and suggested they leave in time to get to the pick up point about 6.15pm. Sunset was an hour after that.

With sunset looming they called to say they were at a point that we had looked at the day before but discounted. After suggesting they go to the exact point we agreed I got a call to say they were lost.

Sunset was gone, dark was descending slowly. I thought I had found a nice eddy but within minutes I was half a kilometre down a river about 100m wide racing to who knows where. It was about turn and rip out of there with all my strength and back to the main river and turn left.

Fifteen minutes later, with a lost pickup crew I decided it was too dangerous to stay on the river so with 37.34 miles on the GPS log I pulled in through about 3m of logs, near a hide and called the crew. My intention was to walk along the track to the hide until I reached the gravel road. The track along the river was flooded so I tried the other one. After about 10 minutes I though I saw lights from a house but no, it was bright fireflies high in the trees.

And then, a pair of eyes was on the track. My headlamp showed a strange animal indeed. It was a bit like a Tasmanian tiger/devil cross, about the size of a bull terrier, mangy colours, long strong snout and a thick tail horizontal, rigid and pointed at the tip. It stared at me but did not move. As it was in the centre of the track I had to go close to get past, my only protection being a plastic water container. Rabies was on my mind as a crept past, but it just stood there and watched me.

Another 10 minutes walking and the track was flooded. I called the crew and sent them home while I made my way back to the kayak firmly lodged in the brambles and then climbed up into the hide.

A miserable night? Yes, but not as bad as it could have been. There was carpet on the floor so with my life jacket as a pillow I was able to get into straight jacket position inside the top of the paddling skirt and in a tight foetal position was able to spend some periods without shivering violently. About midnight it poured with rain so I was very grateful to the blokes who built the hide.

My home for the night. Not too bad but a jacket would have been nice

That’s it from the outside

The crew called before daylight and then a number of times until they were in position. When I was comfortable that was the case, I set off to meet them. It was just on two miles in thick fog but after about a mile they heard my shout and Klaas has a deep, booming voice so we were finally in direct communication. Eventually we extracted through the brambles, loaded up at the gravel road and headed off for a shower and bacon and eggs from Le Chef.

To give you an idea, it would have been a lot easier to paddle from Brisbane to Ipswich in one day in the peak of the 2011 flood.

37.34 miles / 60.1km plus a few wandering in the bush

The crew spots me and I pull in

Coming through the brambles to the car out at the gravel road

Klaas:   Remember the ATM that swallowed my Visa card? I arranged for a replacement card which came but can’t be used on an ATM. Only for shopping, petrol etc. I also arranged for a cash advance which only took three days , answering the same questions twenty seven times and voila, this morning they (The Visa people) told me I could pick it up from any Western Union office. Looked up the nearest one and off I went. Filled in several forms, was photographed, showed passport, Questioned, and finger printed. With great reluctance they finally parted with the $1000=Aust. and gave me $725= US. Bloody ripper mate, we can buy some Budweiser with that. The Master in the mean time is paddling his …………..off doing something ridiculous like 78 km or there about and the pick up will be done in the dark with torches, something I dont look forward to.Too many hazards, alligators besides, the country is full of fire ants and impossible to see in the dark. Oh how we suffer.

It is early ‘morn, just before dawn

and I am watching the Mississippi

The water is glistening in the dawn

swift movements like a fawn

an early tug boat on his way

to push some barges into the fray

of wind and current, eddies and maelstroms

it’s the way of the river, whatever comes

The captain at the wheel,hand on tiller

knows this river can be a killer

flotsam and jettison are a constant threat

the propeller every day  has met

But the Captain is an experienced hand

and brings his barges safe to land.

Ta. KlaaS

Lynne:  After a traumatic day yesterday losing steve and searching unsuccessfully for him till well after dark, we drove home in thick spasmodic fog,  very worried and wondering how we could have missed him.  I must take the blame, getting confused re pickup, (Yes i know my family will not be surprised, I can see their reaction now) we are now going to include coordinates as well and i am going to use the old and reliable (i hope, or i will be past history, never to be heard of again  !!!) method of identifying spots with some very bright rope. We left before the sun came up this morning to get to the river when light and were relieved to rescue Steve safe and sound. Very foggy morning as well and the river is a wondrous sight with the fog happening and just the tops of the tugs barely moving. Whilst there had to find a servo as well, being on empty after all our aimless driving.  I chatted to a young guy and his mate who were going frog hunting in the swamps. These giant frogs live there and are caught for…EATING…..grilled on a bbq and apparently delicious, well, I will take their word for that. We also bought two sausage type things called mixed grits, lord knows what grits they were but we both took one bite and hastily spat the lot out, made us shudder.  There are many methodist, baptist and other similar churches abounding, beautifully built. Most have small churchyard  cementaries well kept. Religious messages are popular along the roadside and also on TV. Also country homes have family plots by the home yards, they are quite lovely, I would love to have a wander around if the opportunity comes up. Interestingly, I have not seen one catholic church altho i guess there are some. We find eggs are a brilliant white as snow, all the same size and you can buy the foam egg containers for one dollar. Having a necessary rest day today.  We are all tired out. Still very warm most of the time. Tomorrow should be less stressful at drop off and pickup will be at a bridge with good visibilty and access. .