The Final Entry

-Mon. Oct. 28- Thurs. Nov. 3

-As of Sunday night we were 89 miles from the Gulf

Monday morning I awoke, still thinking about the
impressively large cruise ship that passed by last night just as the sun was
setting. I almost laughed at the clash of worlds. We had been wandering around
looking for firewood when around the bend came the ship. There was nothing to
but stop and gawk. I thought of the dirt caking my pants and the smell of the
shirt I wear every day and wash every other week. Up on that boat people are
probably settling down to lobster or maybe just endless buffets, wiping their
mouths with napkins nicer and cleaner than anything in my entire belongings.

Anyways, a new day had begun and it was Halloween, though it
didn’t make much difference to us. Previously, weeks had gone by with us hardly
noticing but these last miles drag on and on. To keep myself occupied I like to
play the little children’s game “which one of these craft doesn’t belong” as we
paddle with ships on either side and up to six barges rumbling past us going
various directions—it doesn’t keep me busy for long. Throughout the day,
fighter jets swooped and flew in tandem around the river. Around noon Ben
spotted our first and only gator of the trip sunning himself on the rocky
shore, the river clay baking him a light grey.

Towards the evening we managed to find a break in the
crushed rock walls that line the river in an effort to prevent erosion and
river change. We tucked into a low sandy cove with Cyprus looking trees and
warm, fading sunset. It all looked wonderful till we hit the bank. The bugs
have been fairly docile on this trip, sometimes pesky enough to put on the long
sleeves and pants, but we had not experienced anything like what happened to us
when we stepped on that beach. The gnats came in a wave and were getting up my
nose and in Ben’s eyes. This may seem bad but these gnats aren’t just
bothersome because they buzz around you, these actually feel like they’re
chewing on you. Their bites are like a mosquito only there are so many of them
and there are so tiny. We didn’t even make dinner. Ben grabbed a bag of
pre-cooked black beans, rice, tuna salad, packets of hummus, and two bags of
chips and we ate in the tent, swatting bugs as we sat. Probably the earliest
we’ve gone to sleep on this whole trip.

In the morn Ben braved the outdoors to make oatmeal while I
packed up the sleeping gear. The gnats were all over us so, once the oats were
ready, we put everything in the canoe and ate out on the water, but the hoard
followed. We had to paddle hard to outrun them before our meal could be
enjoyed.

Tuesday, and Ben agrees, was the most arduous and
frustrating day on the water that we’ve had since we started (excepting the
first 21 miles on Sugar Creek). We paddled hard for ten and a half miles
through a strong headwind which lasted almost the entire day and only got
around three mph. We left before 8am and passed through a lot of barge and ship
traffic. Towards midday we pulled up to a mile marker to tie off and rest (the
shores are entirely stone and we didn’t want a repeat of the other day). As we
sat there we noticed three Hispanic men fishing, only their gear consisted of
fishing line wrapped around plastic water bottles with a bobber and hook at the
end. They were having a really hard time throwing the hook and bobber by hand
into the water with such a strong headwind so we took pity on their situation
and tossed to them the spinning rod my dad gave us for fishing (sorry dad;
looks like I know what your present for Christmas will be). They thanked us and
we paddled back out into the onslaught.

A few miles above Venice, LA, our destination, we
encountered a tiny little board-lined harbor but decided to continue even
though it was getting dark. Our headlamps on, we hugged the shore and watched
for ship wake. We encountered only one ship and the wake wasn’t bad. This might
be a good place to try and describe these ships. We’ve encountered tankers from
Panama to Singapore, cargos from Hong Kong to Monrovia. The ships seem to be
the length of a towboat (towboats have flat fronts and push barges, tugboats have pointed fronts and dock
ships) pushing seven or so barges. When the ships are empty they ride almost
twice as high in the water and make less wake. The most dangerous situation
occurs when a fully loaded ship is coming upriver and is beginning a turn into a
bend, especially when you’re on the outside of the bend. This happened one time
and we encountered wake up to four feet. However, the wake from ships is like a
steady, wide sine curve which we ride like a roller coaster. The wake rarely
breaks and we just end up smoothly gliding over the crests- it’s actually kind
of fun.

Anyways, as we neared Venice we passed a tiny little harbor
with a boat ramp. There were several eighteen-foot aluminum boats coming in
from the river, preparing to load back up on their trailers. While we were
still a hundred feet away one guy pointed at us and then idled his engines till
we arrived. He had a camera in his hand but yelled a few choice words when he
found out the batteries were dead. He hailed us and we noticed that he was a
fisherman for he wore those rubber bibs that commercial fishermen do. When we
were close enough he said in disbelief, “I cannot believe you guys are out on this
river today. You are fantastically (I
think that was the f-word he used… maybe it was another) crazy.” We laughed and
I wasn’t sure whether or not to be proud of our persistence through these
relentless seas or terrified that people who regularly fish this river are
afraid we’re going to die. We waved and continued on.

It was soon dark so flicking on the headlamps we pulled up
to a dormant towboat and asked a guy on the back if he knew where the Venice
boat dock was. He pointed just downriver and said, “well, it’s right there.”
The lights were no more than a hundred yards away so we headed for them. There
were plenty of boats and a concrete ramp so we pulled up and Ben got out to
find out where we were so our contact, Sandy Reno, could pick us up (Warren
Yoder [from Jackson, MS] referred us to a pastor in Venice who referred us to
Sandy). Ben climbed the gravel road leading up to the levy and looked around. I
remained back and began to unload the gear because Sandy was coming with a
truck to take the canoe. After a minute Ben yelled down to stop unloading; we
might be in the wrong spot. I went up to join him atop the levy and it appeared
as though we had landed on some fenced-in secured area. I shrugged and began to
walk back down, letting Ben figure it out. As I turned to return to the boat I
was it afloat, ten feet from shore riding some frothy wake given off by a
passing boat. I fell into a full sprint down the gravel road, losing my
flip-flops and frantically envisioning our canoe capsizing. I shimmied out the
railing along the pier and caught the canoe with my foot and guided it back to
shore. I drug it up ten feet and tied it to a slab of concrete. As I rounded
the back of the canoe I slipped and would have landed right on my tailbone but
somehow I managed to catch myself between the walkway and the canoe gunwale. I
noticed Ben talking to someone on the levy so I joined him again, still high
from my blunder with the canoe.

The officially dressed men told us we landed on homeland
security grounds which are totally off-limits. They were nice however and told
us where the real Venice boat dock
was. We packed back up, I got in the back and Ben pushed us off from the bank
and hit the pavement, slipping on the same stuff I did. I went sailing solo out
from shore and paddled back in to pick up my fallen comrade who was just fine.
The Venice inlet was only another mile and we reached the first harbor without
further injury. The wind and waves quit as we entered the harbor. We paddled
quietly passed creaking, tied shrimpers. It was fully dark and the pier lamps
cast and orange-ish glow across the water. These boats were the real deal, man.
There were all shapes, sizes, and colors- most pretty banged up.

Once the canoe was removed from the water we called Sandy
who arrived promptly. She was glad to meet us and wondered how we made it to
Venice in one canoe alive with so much stuff. Sandy
took us to her home, telling us about the city and its fateful meeting with
Katrina. “There were fridges, cars, and even semis in the trees when we
returned,” she said. We passed a large fiberglass boat sitting alongside the
road without a trailer. “Looks like someone’s throwin’ one out,” she said
dryly. We learned that “99%” of the residents of Venice are shrimpers. On the
way to her house, Sandy called “Big George,” the patriarch of the Reno family (Sandy’s
father-in-law) and lifetime shrimper, who recommended strongly that we not take
the main channel and South Pass due to a nasty cold front coming in Thursday at
noon. She finished with, “I’m taking these boys back to my house where I have
some lasagna waiting for them…” Ben and I, unscripted, both groaned
simultaneously in satisfaction, “Ohhh.” Upon arrival we went inside to the
bright kitchen lights and met her mother and niece. She told us to eat as we
pleased, directing us to the lasagna first. Her mother said, “If you don’t get
your fill it’s your fault.” We probably ate a pound of lasagna each. And it was
wonderful. They continued telling us about Katrina and brought out a photo book
that showed what a warzone this place looked like when everyone returned. Along
with the three women we met was a man named Marvin who was very concerned for
our safety because his son had disappeared in the river a week ago in a fishing
accident. The coast guard has been looking for his body with boats and planes without
success. It was tragic reminder that the river can be a dangerous place and no
one is immune from the currents.

From the kitchen we went into the living room to sit on the
soft couches and watch the news. The main story that came on concerned New Orleans
and Halloween. Apparently, last night there was a drive-by shooting at the
corner of Canal and Bourbon Streets with sixteen people wounded (maybe some
killed?). We were shocked not only by the tragedy but that we had been standing
at the corner of those two streets two days ago.

From her house Sandy took us to the house of a friend to see
the wild hog that was shot today. We pulled up to the trailers and walked over
to meet the family. One guy had the skinned hog strung up and was beginning to
remove the meat. To the left, a lady had just finished stitching up a wound in
the chest of one of the hunting dogs received during the fight with the beast.
Both dogs had puncture wounds and we were told that the hog had been shot as it
ran at one of the guys, an enraged dog clamped to each ear both being dragged
through the woods. The guy pointed to the skin on the ground. The hog was pure
jet black and had a devilish look on its face, though it could do no more harm.
The man at the hog pulled out a short machete and hacked off the ribs. From
then on we tried to find a way to go hog hunting before we left.

From the trailer Sandy drove us down the road and dropped us
off at their church, Lighthouse Fellowship, where she told us to make ourselves
at home and to eat the food and drink the beverages.  It was great to have a place that felt
semi-permanent, a place where we could sprawl out. The church fellowship hall
had a full kitchen, shower, and bunk beds. All of these we used.

Wednesday morning Marvin, the lone man at Sandy’s house last
night, came to pick us up at the church with his truck. Just before he arrived,
Big George came over and spread a map of the Mississippi Delta before us. He

Marvin (left) and Big George

showed us the various options for entry into the Gulf. We could go east or west
but whenever we asked questions about going down the main channel, he answered
as though he really didn’t want us going that way. I asked him about the beach
at the end of South Pass to which he replied, “in my over thirty years of
shrimpin’ I have never seen a beach at the end of South Pass.” It sounded like
there was no place to land which was a definite problem because if we paddle
twenty-two miles to the end and have no place to land we’ll have to immediately
paddle back, against the current. He showed us an alternate route called Red
Pass which was shorter, more sheltered from the wind, and had a small beach at
the end. Those factors, combined with how late it already was in the morning,
influenced us to choose Red Pass instead of the route we had chosen before we
even started the trip.

Marvin showed up while George discussed our options. We put
the canoe in Marvin’s truck and left for the river. We put in where we had
gotten out the night before and headed directly west out of the harbor, trying
to avoid the heavy boat traffic I hadn’t expected would be there. There were
fishermen in sleek bass boats and Boston Whalers flying around the corners and
lots of “crew boats” sending supplies out to the offshore oilrigs. Using Big
George’s map we made our way through the narrow channels lined with tall reeds
beginning to turn brown in the cooling autumnal weather. Ben and I laughed at
the width of the channel, being no more than fifty feet wide.  We might have to change our phrase to “Sugar
to Sugar”—it was about the same width. About a mile underway I began to have a
sinking feeling of regret concerning our change of course. For over a year I’ve
been thinking about the tip of South Pass and now we’re doing the cheap
imitation. But there was no turning back so we continued. There were marsh
lands to either side with many birds including but not limited to cranes,
herons, pelicans, ducks, gulls, and spoonbills which were different degrees of
pink based on the amount of shrimp they eat (or so Ben told me). We began to
catch whiffs of the ocean breeze as we neared, hoping to see the Gulf with each
passing turn. I think my heart raced a little. It was around nine miles in all
but we finally rounded a bend and the trees and stopped… eternally. There were
no more bends in the river, no more miles to count or maps to observe. This was
the Gulf. It was another mile before we got to the end of the land. About a
hundred yards out I caught, in my peripherals, a glimpse of a fin. I swung my
head to the left in time to see a grey fin disappear. “Shark! Dolphin! Shark?
Dolphin?” I yelled. Once it resurfaced and I got a better glimpse of its fin
and heard the blowhole I knew it was a dolphin. The little pod of five or so
followed us to the left and rear while we put in the literal finishing strokes
on the figurative canvas that has been this trip. The Gulf opened wide before
us with small islands to the right and oil derricks far off on the horizon.
Speaking of horizons, the Gulf oil spill, we heard, happened just thirty miles
south of the end of South Pass, maybe fifty miles from where we stood; there
were no tar balls or residue. Not wanting to leave the dolphins we paddled and
floated out a little ways and watched them porpoise around us. The weather was
perfect and the fact that we now had ocean waves moving us around nearly made
me laugh out loud with delight.

Though it was high tide we found the remains of a beach and
pulled up the canoe. I immediately dug up some sand to fill the upper half of
the glass bottle which already houses the sand I gathered from Sugar Creek the
day we left Kidron. We filled bottles with shells and kept a few angel wing
clamshells. There was a photo shoot to do and by the time we got to that the
gnawing gnats and scathing skeeters had zeroed in our location and attacked. We
spent most of the rest of our time there standing in the water as far away from
them as we could. We stayed probably longer than we should have because by the
time we left it was going to be dark before we got back. About a mile up the
channel a twenty-foot, white fiberglass boat pulled up beside us. There were
two fishermen in the boat who asked us if we wanted a ride. I paused for a
second, remembering how on principle we must do this trip by ourselves but then
consented because it was getting late, we still had a long ways to go, and we
were tired. The guys’ names were L.A. and Pat. We loaded up the boat and he
roared off at about twenty-five mph. over the loudness of the engine he spoke
of the pity he had for us. We watched the reeds fly by and laughed at what our
movements on the GPS locator must look like compared to normal paddling. at one
point L.A., who was driving, leaned over and yelled to Pat in the front of the
boat, “This is better than running
them over!” we laughed and then he said, “Wanna go 60 [mph]?” We again laughed.
They dropped us off next to the main harbor and we paddled the rest of the way
to the harbor where we put in earlier that day. Ben called Marvin who came
speedily and took us back to the church. We put on some music and put a pizza
in the oven. We each ate half and then cleaned up.

In the morning Ben and I decided to paddle to mile zero (the
point where the river ends and it breaks off into three channels). The main
channel ends eleven miles south of Venice and then we would have to paddle
back. Marvin so faithfully came and picked us up for the last leg of our
journey. However, when he found ouot we were going down the main river today he
lost his smile and began to try to persuade us in every which way not to do it.
It’s true, there was a cold front coming in but we’ve endured weather like that
and I knew we could do it. We plopped the canoe and gear into the water and in
a last-ditch effort Marvin called several shrimpers who all recommended we not
go. One said that the shrimpers were coming in because of the weather and that
the front could have winds over twenty mph. Now, twenty mph headwinds would be
possibly too much for us to bear on the way back and since the big boats were
coming in we decided to scrap the whole thing for the day, to Marvin’s relief
and my frustration. That right there finished our trip. I thought back to the
moment when we got out of the water yesterday and realized that was the final
moment– that we were “done.” We were loading up the canoe when Big George
called saying that he was coming in from shrimping and needed picked up in an
hour and a half. Being already at the harbor, we found things to do till he
arrived.

Marvin took us to the riverside dock where shrimp are
unloaded and showed us around. He showed us a friend’s boat and scooped me out
some shrimp from the deep chest cooler on board so I could take it home. Sandy’s
brother and son both run boats and we got to meet them. Her son nicknamed
“Bubby” showed us his shrimper. He is twenty-five and seemed to know what he
was doing. Just to the right was Eric, Sandy’s brother. He was a sight to
behold. Eric is maybe around forty years old and has the voice and look of a
pirate with his dark beard, leathery skin, long pony tail, and raspy,
commanding voice. Eric came over to us and said something like, “Are you the
two idiots who are canoeing down the river??” We confessed and he laughed,
shaking his head. He put his hands on each side of my head and shook it to see
if he could hear a brain rattling around inside. He then returned to his work
trying to get the shrimp boat motor working. He shuffled around, cigarette in
hand, barking commands to the guy turning the key. We cut back in and asked
Eric if we could go out shrimping with him this evening and he said that he
would but wouldn’t be back till tomorrow at three pm. We were leaving at noon
tomorrow so it apparently wasn’t going to work. I was so bummed, it would have
been the perfect icing on the cake for our trip.

Big George returned shortly from shrimping. He had been gone
since midday yesterday and looked tired, his hair and eyebrows bleached from
the sun. He hadn’t caught much but was in a good mood. For the captain’s chair
he had bolted on the front seat of a car. He, Marvin, Ben, and I piled in the
truck and we went to Big George’s house for lunch. Like many post-Katrina
houses, Big George’s was elevated over ten feet. Ben and I were able to meet
his wife, Ruby, who will be shortly ninety years old. Though she is well along
in years, Ruby is still full of stories and laughter. She pointed to the photo
on the wall of her and Big George in a small aluminum boat, both smiling (his
arm around her) taken in 1952, two years after they were married. In the boat
were a few belongings; “all we had, “she said, “minus the boat. Oh, but it’s
been a wonderful life.” Over to the right, Big George practically fell into his
Lazy Boy with a deep relieving sigh having been out on the water since
yesterday afternoon. The scariest moment of her life had been when she saw the
Northern Lights for the first time while living in Lancaster, PA many years ago.
She thought the world was ending. But she was quick to note: “I don’t get
scared very often. There’s no fun in that.” “I don’t doubt it,” I said with a
laugh.

George and Ruby’s daughter Rose prepared a wonderful meal
for us. We ate heartily and were able to meet Doyle (I think that was his name),
a big freckled man, sun-bleached like every other fisherman we’ve seen. I think
he’s related somehow to the Reno family but I’m not sure. Anyways, the movie “The
Texas Killing Fields” was filmed partially at his house in Louisiana. I guess
there were some big names in it. The crew filmed at night using massive lights
so they wouldn’t have to deal with the sun. One time, Doyle heard a bunch of
gun shots and went out to see what was going on. As he stepped out, a “body”
hit the wall, bullet holes in his chest. He looked up and the director was
motioning him to get down—he was in the shot.

After lunch we were returned to the church where we rested
for the evening. I was writing in my journal across the room when Ben received a
phone call. It was my mother (my phone died). I looked up and Ben put it on
speakerphone. On the other end was Tim Shue and his men’s choir singing live at
a concert the “Sugar Creek Chantey,” the song he had written for the trip
before we left. I beamed and pumped my fists along to the beat and sang along
when the chorus came round. Thank you so much guys. We probably showed the
recording of it (youtube “Sugar Creek Chantey” if you want to check it out) to
half a dozen people before we left for home.

Swartz family plus Marvin (red shirt), Rose (just behind Marvin), and Sandy (holding "Soda" the dog)

Friday morning. Our LAST day in Louisiana. A great sadness came
over me as I realized we only had a few more hours left. We were comforted by
Marvin who came over to check on us. Later, Sandy came bearing fried gator tail
for lunch. I’ve always wanted to try it. Shortly thereafter, Rose came with a
massive tray of freshly boiled shrimp. We enjoyed lunch together and I must
have eaten sixty large shrimp, along with my fill of gator. Those three stayed
with us till Ben’s family arrived. I was taking a load of gear outside when
they pulled up in their new Suburban. Two heads popped out of the passenger
side and a banner was dropped, “Congratulations Ben and Jon. 1984 miles!” It
would have been perfectly choreographed had the sign not been upside down. We laughed
and waved. Once everything was loaded we left for good, waving goodbye to our
friends. After a brief stop at Ft. Jackson (historical pre-civil war fort)
where we said our final goodbyes to the river, we headed for Mississippi. After
“Emily” (the phone GPS) and her “cousin” (the Garmin GPS) had numerous “blonde
moments,” and got uncle Paul lost more than once, we finally made it out of
Louisiana. It was beautiful to drive past the New Orleans skyline at night. We ate
dinner at a local restaurant in Mississippi and then crashed at the Holiday Inn
in Slidell.

Macon, Mississippi was the first destination of the day.
Macon is where Paul grew up during part of his childhood and we were on a
mission to find points of interest for him. We met up with a childhood friend
of his, James Schrock, and he became our tour guide. James showed us where Paul’s
childhood house had been before the highway came through. I think Paul’s bed had
been somewhere between the left median and the rumble strip J. James took us through
the boonies, winding down gravel roads and through the fall forests. He told us
all about the numerous local cat fishing ponds and the cotton farming. We stopped
to check out one of the bales of cotton standing beside the road. The things
are huge, probably 10 by 30
feet and almost ten feet high. We found the building
where Paul’s father had begun a co-op in the sixties for poor black famers,
those who were abused and hated by many f the white people in the area.

From Macon we visited Mashulaville, MS, a place which has
significance for me as well. In Mashulaville we were able to meet Larry and Maxine
Miller, the couple who run the local children’s home. They told us about the
legacy of the Swartz and Detweiler families in the town, how they served the
Native and African Americans during the late ‘50s and early ‘60s when they were
considered the “untouchables” by the white population. Larry encouraged us to
come back again and maybe help out for a summer. Who knows. After dropping
James off at his car, we left for Memphis.

John Plunkett and his girls.

The Harbur family welcomed us weary, night-travelers into
their home. We all ate around their large dining room table and had planned to
play some games but it was so late by the time we finished eating that sleep
took precedence. In the morning, we were able to attend the Harbur’s church
service which was in the home of a friend. John and Angela Plunkett were the
owners of the house and are also starting an organic livestock and produce
farm. The service was fairly short, each getting to pray, share, and sing with
the congregation. After the service there was a delicious meal and a lot of
conversation. I got to meet the man of the home who shares my name and,
apparently, my appearance and thoughts (of farming) as well. From the church we
said our goodbyes and headed for our final stop before home: the Bower home in
Owensboro, KY.

Larayna (left) and Elyse

Apparently, the Bower children really enjoyed the time Ben
and I had been able to spend with them and Janna later told us little Elyse had
been asking when Ben was going to be able to hold her again. As we pulled into
the driveway, the whole Bower family was gathered to meet us. The kids were a
little shy at first but warmed up to us again like four little marshmallows in
a microwave. We also got to meet Lydia, the Bowers nanny who just recently
graduated from High School and is living with the Bowers for the time being
until she starts college. Again, there was amazing food put before us and we
talked into the night. Elyse made sure we saw all her “keedo bites” and “boo-boos.”
It was all over when the older two children realized how much I hate being
tickled. They chased me off and on all night.

Monday morning we awoke to another excellent meal (I’m going
to start having to watch it now that I’m sedentary again). The kids took us to
their basement school room and recited and pointed to every African country, US
State and capitol city, and told me off hand the Preamble to the US
Constitution among other countless bits of knowledge. Forget “Are you smarter
than a fifth grader?,” the oldest is seven. However, in the defense of my pride,
Lydia and I both corrected and gave them a few hints now and again. The rest of
the morning was a process of painfully tearing ourselves away from the family
so we could go home. They showed us the back yard and the tree house. After a
few photos it was time to leave for home (well, Ben’s home). We made only one
major stop on the way back, Whole Foods in Cincinnati where we ate and Aunt
Carol got a few groceries. After we parked in front of the store I stepped out
of the car and was finally reunited with Ohio… asphalt. Not the green grass or
freshly fallen leaves I’d hoped for but it’oll do. I knew ya missed me Ohio.

We made it to the Swartz’s home by seven pm and realized Ben
left home August 7 (to come to my house a week before we left) and arrived home
on November 7, exactly three months gone. While the trip is over for him, I still
have to make it home. Tonight my parents are coming to get me and I will be
able to rub my toes in Wayne County soil soon, very soon.

So, I suppose that’s a wrap. I’m sorry if you were hoping
for some grand conclusion or epic philosophical epiphany or thesis for a future
book or something like that. It just feels over. The rest will follow is
suppose.

How many times can I say “THANK YOU” to all those who’ve followed
this website/blog and supported us in some way, shape, or form along the way? It
would take far too long to list y’all here (notice the southern speak). You know
who you are and I tip my sweaty, sun-bleached hat to you. If you want to hear
more stories you’ll probably be able to find me sitting on the bridge over
Sugar Creek, feet dangling over the side, thinking about where the water goes.

So now it’s getting emotional. Goodnight and thanks for
being great human beings. Tomorrow I fulfill the “Sugar Creek Chantey” prophecy
and awake in my own “clean bed sheet”. Life’s complete.

Till next time (and there will be a next time),

Jonathan Daniel Detweiler and Benjamin Paul Swartz

You guys are doing what?!

We were about to enter a war zone and we were oblivious. We knew that we would go through Baton Rouge today, and we had heard that’s where the ocean ships come into play. The Army Corp. of Engineers is required to keep the river a certain depth for these ships to be able to come up river from the Gulf all the way up to Baton Rouge. There were three ships docked at the Baton Rouge wharf, so we went to the other side of the river to stay away from them. We were going to just shoot past the town, but I noticed a historical battleship across the river, that we had been told about by people back up the river. The name of the battleship was the USS Kidd. This ship had actually been stationed in Pearl Harbor during the bombings that occurred there. We paddled like frenzied hamsters on a wheel across the river, in order to not become an emblem on the front of a ship! We reached the opposite shore with no problem, except a wave decided to come over the front and get me wet. We beached the canoe, stepped out and sank down into the famous Mississippi mud! We walked up through some weeds, up to the top of the levee. Baton Rouge has a wonderful riverfront bike and walkway on top of its levee. We reached the top, and walked a little ways with our muddy feet. A guy who was out for a jog, told us that we could wash our feet off at the base of a drinking fountain down the way. I walked over there, and met another man named Thomas who was getting some water. He said that there was a hose down the way to wash our feet off with, so we followed him. As we were walking with Thomas, an older couple sitting on a bench started to talk to us. Their names were Jonny and “Cookie”. They were originally from Puerto Rico and had been married 43 years. Jonny had served in the Marine Corp. for 31 years. After finding out how far we had traveled, where we had to sleep, what we had to eat, and all of our logistics, “Cookie” couldn’t believe it. She still spoke with her spanish accent, but we could sense and feel the concern and care that she had for us. She ended up praying for us in Spanish right there on the levee! it amazes me how the Lord sets things up like this. We still had to keep going, so we said our goodbyes and left. After canoeing another mile, we stopped and caught some bait fish for two guys who were fishing. Since it wasn’t long until dusk, we had to keep going. We ended our day on a small beach on the west side of the river across from some big stadium. Come to find out we had camped across the river from the LSU football stadium! I cooked up some spaghetti again tonight, and fried up some garlic bread mix we had been given by John back the way. I ended up burning myself with the hot oil in the skillet, and had an inch fall blister on one of my fingers!

We left camp this morning at 9:45 which is a pretty late start. We ended up stopping to cook lunch, which is another thing that never happens. As we were sitting on the beach enjoying our lunch, two DNR guys walked out of the woods towards us. They asked us if we had any identification, so we gave them our licenses. One of the officers asked us if we were wanted for anything, and afterwards I thought I should have said, “The thing I am wanted for, is that my mom wants me home!” They called into headquarters to check us out, and talked with us as we waited. After talking to us, and getting the negative on us being fugitives, they left and so did we. We were running low on water, so we stopped in the next town. I stayed with the canoe as Jon did the aqua trek into town. He came back after 10 minutes and said that the walk was too far. The light was fading fast as we rounded the next bend. A deckhand from the towboat CSS Atlanta yelled and asked us if we needed any food. We paddled over to the towboat, and tied off there for a little while. The captain came and talked to us, and answered all of the questions we had about barges. We found out that it takes 58 semi loads to fill up just one barge, and most towboats push 42 barges. They filled up our water, and gave us dinner for that night. The captain told us about an island that was coming up where we could camp for the night. We thanked the captain and departed with our supplies replenished again in a way that only the Lord could orchestrate! We encountered a gorgeous sunset on our way to the island, which seem to keep getting better and better. As dusk rolled in, we had made it to the island. We generally go the length of an island and then camp on the end, so tonight was no different. As we were about half way down the island, little did we know what was about to round the corner. Since I sit in the front, one of my jobs is to identify things that we may run into, see oncoming traffic, and read signs from afar. This is what I saw… A light on a post came around the corner of the island, and it looked like it was at least 70 feet in the air. We were dumbfounded, and then the rest of the ship came into view! We hadn’t seen a ship in actual motion yet, so we headed for the shore to get out of its wake. We were at a section of the river that was not very wide, and since the ship was going up river against the current, the effects were more extreme than if the river was at a wider point. When we beached the canoe and the ship had passed, the water around the sandbar we had landed on rushed away and then came flying back at us! If we hadn’t held onto our canoe the water would have moved our canoe. The ships going against the current displace so much water, that they actually suck water towards them and then as they pass the water rushes back. We arrived at our destination with a new experience under our belts, and little did we know that this didn’t even scratch the surface to ship traffic.

For breakfast I ate some left over shredded beef… meat for every meal would be great. The Lord knew that I needed this big breakfast, for what was going to happen later in the day. It happened late afternoon… We had just rounded a bend and were cutting to the next bend, when Jon yells “Ship”!! We had been taking it easy as we crossed to the next corner, but now this was no game. Our adrenaline kicked in, and we paddled the hardest we have ever paddled. The ocean ships seem to go way faster than towboats, so either we paddle hard or get run over… there’s no stopping those ships. We made it to the opposite shore, pulled our canoe up and with dazed minds we tried to soak in what just happened. After pulling our jaws off the ground, we continued on that river that had been so good to us. We camped on a bend in the river, with oil refineries and granary’s within view.

The industry just continued to get thicker and thicker. A positive thing about all of the industry was that we encountered the guys working out there. A guy operating a crane named Mr. Chuck yelled, “Yal got it good, yal got it good.” Different guys working on barges yelled and asked us where we were going and where we had come from. We got asked these questions so much, that we thought about making signs to hold up. We did get to stop at a plantation called “Oak Alley”, which was an amazing sight to see. Live oaks lined a brick sidewalk up to the main house. Jon would of stayed and stared at the trees and the house all day if he could have. We had a package to pick up in New Sarpy, so that would be our destination for that night. The sun was fading fast, and one thing that is recommended to not do one the Mississippi is paddle at night. I wanted to get to the bank of New Sarpy, so we could get to the post office early as they opened. We ended up paddling 5 miles in the dark with no problem, except when we got to our destination there was no place to camp. We ended up having to climb the rock bank and find a spot in the woods above.

The next morning, I walked through the jungle of a woods that separated us from New Sarpy. After asking some locals there the post office was, I arrived there soon after eight. The post master there said that they hadn’t received any general delivery package. She said that when it arrived, she would call and see where I wanted it sent. She also said that it could have been sent to the Destrehan post office, which was down the road. I started off down the road towards Destrehan and had maybe walked a mile and a half, and had an epiphany that I should just call the Destrehan post office to see if they had the package. They didn’t have it either, so I made my way back towards the canoe. Jon was finishing up some blogging as I arrived, and I got some stuff ready because it looked like a storm was coming from the northeast. We launched that day without eating a real breakfast, and were greeted by the oncoming rain. We pressed on towards New Orleans, and the thought that we would eat dinner with Chris and John that night. New Orleans came into view late in the afternoon, but it gave us a false hope because we still had 8-9 miles to paddle. We were passing an Army Corp. of Engineer ship, and after yelling to tell them where we had come from, one guy said, “Welcome to New Orleans”. As we neared the city, the headwind picked up which made me cold and hindered our progress. Before we reached the city, there were miles of wharfs and docks. Ships from around the world were loading and unloading. The only place in New Orleans where we could land was at the French Quarter, so we told Chris and John that we could go out and eat with them when we arrived there. When we arrived we put on some warmer clothes, because the winds had dropped the temperature significantly. We hadn’t heard back from Chris or John and daylight was waning, so we paddled across the river to Algiers Point to camp. The winds were between 15-30 miles an hour tonight, so we both had to put the tent up together. It was almost bone chilling, but we huddled down in the weeds and made dinner. As we were doing all we could to stay out of the cold, we saw a group of people up on the levee walking around with a video camera. To our surprise, a lady from the group came down and started to talk to us. It was dark, we were in the weeds, we didn’t think we looked approachable, but she came anyways. She found out that we had started in Ohio, and told us that the group she was with were down by the river because they were waiting on their friends to end their journey that had begun in Cincinnati! She said that they should be landing any minute. She also said that they had wrecked their main boat way back in Greenville, Mississippi. They had rigged up a raft and had put in just like a half mile back up the river so they could finish in style. She invited us to meet the guys later, so we took the invite. After downing our meal, we went and met the guys. We found out that there were five guys total that started in this epic journey. They had started with a houseboat like vessel, but after wrecking it in Greenville, Mississippi they had to hitchhike down to Louisiana. It was neat to have a common thread of places experienced. The group consisted of 3 brothers and 2 friends. One of the brothers invited us to spend the night at his dad’s apartment, so we ended up crashing on the floor there. I found out that these brothers had grown up in a town only 12 miles from where I live!  We would have been so cold outside, and we would take the floor over being out in that. Their dad was a frequent flier and had a pantry full of airplane snacks, so Bill told us that we could eat what we wanted. I have never eaten so many biscoff cookies and peanuts in a two-day period like we did. We spent part of saturday in New Orleans, and then came back to Algiers Point for dinner. As we ate dinner at a local cafe, we started to converse with people sitting close to us. One guy said that he had worked at the oil refinery in Canton for a few months, which shocked Jon because Canton is where he goes to college. A couple we met named Gregg and Paula, started to talk to us as well. They were from Baton Rouge, and said that we could have stayed with them when we went through there. We talked for a while, and Paula started to care for us like we were her sons. She told her husband that he should pick us up at out journeys end and bring us back to where we needed to go! After being with them for a while, we headed back to sleep at the apartment again.

This mornings breakfast consisted of popcorn, peanuts, and biscoff cookies. We stayed with the guys that morning, and then got back on the water to get some miles in. As we paddled today, we saw hard hats that had been washed up on shore so we wanted to each get one. Since the shore was all rock, we couldn’t beach our canoe to stop and get the hard hats. So, we floated along the shore and Jon jumped out to pick up our hard hats. A passing tugboat’s wake came crashing in at the same time, and wave after wave smashed into our canoe and filled it up very quickly! We quickly threw out all of our gear, and began to scoop the water out of the canoe. Nothing was damaged, so we hoped, so we kept paddling. About a mile down the river I realized I had left my shoes back there. We beached and I ran back and grabbed my shoes. That night we ended up camping on a beach in front of a swamp. We were right near Braithwaite, Louisiana.

Bucket List: Catfish Harpooning and Boar Wrangling

Vicksburg, MS is mile 1,526 of our trip– 437 to go.

I was a great feeling to be in the home of a Mennonite family- finally something to remind me of home. Saturday night as we drove to the Yoder’s home (even that name ‘Yoder’ just warms my soul) I expressed to Warren my excitement about finally being able to participate in a Mennonite service on Sunday, the singing especially, and he seemed sorry to respond, “our Mennonite service won’t be like any you’ve experienced.”

last evening with the Yoders

Sunday morning Warren cooked us up a wonderful omelet, eggs being a rare delicacy for us. On the way to church Rhoda explained to us the beginnings of their church and the influence of the African American culture upon the city and their church.  The building and congregation were small, about thirty in attendance with a surprising and encouraging (for Jackson, MS) mix of races, and we arrived a little late. We quietly took our seats as a man up front encouraged the congregation and sang along with a black gospel track that played along with a pianist accompaniment. Pastor Horace soon stood and greeted the church and welcomed the guests. While on that note, he asked sister Rhoda to come up and introduce Ben and I. this she gladly did and with so many questions to ask, Pastor Horace turned the moment into a brief Q&A time, asking the normal questions. The church seemed very interested in what we were doing and once we were finished with the introduction Pastor Horace and a group of others gathered around us to pray. Their prayers spoke blessing and safety over us but also life and healing to the people of Africa; we were quieted by their genuineness blessed by their prayers. To our surprise, Horace took two offerings, the second on behalf of our mission. We were thrilled.

After church the Yoders took us to a less-refined section of town to have some barbecue, Warren stating on the way that “the best barbecue comes in old buildings.” The place was called “Lumpkin’s” and was buffet style BBQ, which is dangerous for two hungry river rats—as Shane from the hunting island in TN would have said, “you’re liable to hurt yourself at a place like that.” The building reminded me of an Aldi’s store. I piled high a plate and sat down.  The food was great and I think we solved several of the world’s problems as we ate. Afterwards, Ben and I were able to meet the husband and wife entrepreneurs who founded the place. A few minutes with them was all it took to make me cheer them and their business on.   Melvin and Monique talked with us for like ten minutes, and seemed genuinely excited about what we were doing. Like many, at first they hardly believed us when we told them we were canoeing the Mississippi. After much laughter and exchanging of stories we left for the Yoder homestead. All evening I recovered from my food intake earlier, rotating naps and reading (I told Warren I was interested in sailing and he promptly gave me the first novel in a Patrick O’Brian series, “Master and Commander”). That evening we said goodbye to Warren and Rhoda, who will be gone in the morning, and thanked them for their hospitality. Rhoda made sure she showed me where all the food was which we were supposed to take with us tomorrow for provision.

I wound down their spiral, wooden staircase around 9am Monday morning. Ben was at the bar counter and Andrew was hard at work flippin’ flapjacks. He filled us to the brim and waited patiently till we gathered our things. Since we hadn’t been able to see the Civil War Park the day before in Vicksburg, Andrew offered to take us on a personal tour today. We left Jackson and as we headed to the river I caught a glimpse of possibly the first cotton fields I’ve ever seen. W pulled into the visitor’s center and watched a video on the war and a fiber optic sequence of the siege of Vicksburg by U.S. Grant. I never knew what happened here. The rest of the tour was by car, the loop being about fifteen miles. I was deeply moved by the still visible trenches and battery platforms. It’s hard to come to terms with a U.S. city being the staging ground for a battle between countrymen. There were hills where men charged the fortified city and a mine where they tried to blow a hole in the town from underground. The restored cannons were in position and many granite memorials and plaques had been erected. The two most astonishing parts of the tour were the USS Cairo and the cemetery.

Heed the warning, children.

The USS Cairo is the last surviving iron clad of the Union fleet. It was sunk in the Mississippi by the first electrically fired underwater mine (pretty smart). It was later resurrected, restored and put on display. We were able to walk inside the shell of the actual ship, the guns, paddlewheel, steam chambers, and timbers all in place; even the blown hole in the port bow was visible. Across the street was the cemetery, the white markers rolling over the well-manicured hill overlooking a deep valley below containing the Yazoo River. If Andrew didn’t have to get to work I could have stayed all day at that spot.

From the park Andrew returned us to the boat dock where our canoe was waiting. It is always tough getting back on the river. The rest of the day passed by without incident.

The clouds rolled in Tuesday morning, bringing the first rain of our journey down the Mississippi River (can you believe it?). It rained all day which, when combined with the wind, made for a pretty cold day. Towards the evening we passed by an Army Corps of Engineers “Quarter Boat,” which was basically a floating motel for Army Corps workers. We made sure to paddle slowly past to see if anyone would take pity on us weary transients; all we got were a few questions and a “good luck”. We tucked in behind a wing dam to get out of the wind for the evening. I was able to snag three small blue catfish, which were promptly dispatched with the machete and placed upon the grill whole. I had been debating this whole trip about whether or not to eat fish from the river but it just makes too much sense to glean from this bounty, especially when it’s so fresh. The fish complimented the mac and cheese tortillas very well. All evening the wind howled through the tops of the thin willow trees all around us. I would like to thank Tyler Schrock for his wisdom on ‘widow makers;’ we made sure to place the tent far from any potential danger.

Tuesday night may have gotten into the 30’s so we slept very snugly in our mummy bags. The morning was very cold for us again but there was the hope of Natchez, MS and another care package. We finished the long, straight, nine-mile stretch to the by lunchtime. The boat ramp seemed pretty safe so we left most of our belongings and headed up the steep embankment. At the top of the ramp was what they call “Natchez, Under the Hill,” which is basically just a row of very old buildings at the base of a very steep bluff, which ascends to the main city. This is one of the most historic sections of the city, the history being mostly that which would have made the people of Sodom and Gomorrah proud. However, Samuel Clemens spent some time “Under the Hill” and there was a small hotel dedicated to him. Ben and I stood in front of the beautiful old brick buildings admiring the old saloon when who would come out of the tall wooden doors but John, brother and partner of Chris, who we met the other day kayaking down the river. His sunglasses tan line was severe and he looked tired but we were so glad to see a friendly face in a strange place. John told us we had to see the inside of the place so he welcomed us in. the saloon was one of the oldest, still existing, buildings in the city (est. 1831) and had four rooms. The tables were three foot square, made from thick, ancient doors. On the wall were various artifacts, old guns, Bowie Knives (Jim Bowie is from there), paintings and photos, and a mirror, which startled me as I walked by. In the back was a mini conservatory letting in a greenish light for the plants. There was a snapping turtle shell on the wall over two feet long and a dartboard in the corner. When we returned to the main room we told the bar tender lady our story. She seemed to think we needed a drink after such an ordeal but Chris, who was at the counter, had already told her we didn’t drink. Natchez is on a sharp bend in the river and the current, combined with rocks and gravel, has dug tunnels under the city. The lady told us that divers have gone down into these tunnels and have come back up vowing never to return due to the catfish the size of VW Bugs. There was also a newspaper clipping of a man who caught a 220 pound alligator gar in the river nearby. That may seem extreme but when you consider the river is up to 135ft deep at the Natchez bridge, there’s no telling what lurks below. The photo of that ugly fish would be enough to keep just about anyone from swimming in that river. This is where the idea for my extreme sport came. How thrilling would it be to dive into the tunnels below Natchez and harpoon man-eating catfish? Anyways, we said goodbye to the guys and headed up the hill to find the post office.

The view of the river we discovered at the will most likely go unmatched the rest of the trip. Natchez sits on a bluff probably over 150 feet above the river and on the outside bend. At the top, the city created a walkway and a grassy area, which surrounds the old oaks still in place. School children were playing in the little park as we passed by and when we got to the fence above the drop-off we could see up the river for about ten miles and the water appeared blue. The breeze was soft and the sun welcomingly warm. The post office was nearby and the package on time. We separated after the post office and I went back to the cliff edge to rest and enjoy the view while Ben went back to the canoe. A few minutes later he returned to my bench with two young ladies he met by the river. Apparently they were on a journey as well except theirs was by bicycle- St. Louis to New Orleans. They invited us to go to the Thai buffet (there’s that word again, buffet) they were heading to. We hadn’t had lunch yet and always love to exchange traveling stories so we went along. The place was closed when we got there. I saw a Thai sample plate still sitting outside the door and helped myself to a few cooked onions and the citrus fruit. The four of us walked to the girls’ bikes, sharing as we went. They came with us to the river and saw us off. The waves were rough heading out of Natchez That evening we spent the night among the trees on a sandy bluff. I fished below, with some of the best bait I’ve yet caught, while Ben started a fire at camp and made dinner. By the end of the night there were no catfish to report but the stars were fantastic, seemingly accentuated by the cold night. We huddled around the fire for a while and laughed as a deer, confused by our presence, kept coming just outside our range of flashlights, snorting then crashing away into the woods. That sums up about the entirety of my deer hunting experience

Thursday returned us to the heat of the South. Around noon we rounded a bend and saw a massive flock of pelicans gathered on a sand bar. I got my camera ready and we paddled for them. Before I was in range, half of them took off soaring in waves around us. Pelicans are expressionless birds but they seemed quite annoyed and obviously wanted to stay where they were because they attempted to land behind us. Paddling closer, another wave took off, some soaring so high they were hardly visible. We chose a campsite much earlier than normal, only having gone 21 miles, because at that moment we were passing the lee side of a beautiful island with a high, sandy area that would house a tent quite nicely. In the trees we found many beaver-fallen trees. Beaver might be one of the most fascinating and intelligent creatures on this trip (besides us of course). I noticed how they chip around a tree in such a fashion that they know where it will fall. Also, we often find floating in the river these sticks which have been chewed all around, stripped of bark. Those branches we find turn out to be the strongest pieces of wood around. I don’t know where they get it. Ben got to work on the tent while I slogged off to throw my net for bait. I caught enough and threw out such a nice piece that if I didn’t land a fish, “there were none in the river.”

As dusk began to fall, Ben said my name and pointed. Coming down the west side of the island was a line of four beaver all in a single-file row. They were quiet and made a steady wake. On the east side had also appeared a beaver, which had been circling off shore for a few minutes. The group rounded the point and met the single. They started swimming together. From our almost aerial view, they, and their wake, looked like little power boats chasing each other around. It occurred to us that this may be “their” island and were upset that we got here first. I called out to them to negotiate but they didn’t appear to be talking beavers. Too bad, we might have had tea with them in their Narnian under dwelling. The evening faded slowly, as the silent waters rejoined at the foot of our hill.

I think it was fully dark before the clicker-drag on my pole started zinging. I ran over and set the hook. On the end of the line turned out to be almost a five pound flathead catfish which went straight to the grill. Gerrard was right, living off the land on a trip like this does change things- you feel more independent and just, well, natural.

Friday was a pretty normal grind. The sun gave me a headache all day and at camp I napped while Ben made a delicious tomato pasta. I called my mother and upon asking about the condition of the leaves back home she responded that they were coming down “in a blizzard”. I can see it perfectly.

Saturday morning I felt better and we left in good time to make it to Morganza, LA before the post office closed (the city where they opened the spillway this spring to flood the farmland in order to keep the river from cresting the levy from overflowing). There was no entrance into the town so Ben walked in through the woods and I followed a short time later. Morganza has one main drag and is the kind of southern town I’ve been looking for. The streets were lined with semi-tropical looking trees and the birds were singing as if it were spring. As the cars rolled by I noticed that almost every pick-up had a four-wheeler in the back… I guess it’s hunting season. As I walked down the road I chuckled when I started seeing the political signs staked in yards; “John ‘Sassy’ Pourciau” for Police Jury”. Soon came the local gas ‘n go called the “LA Express… Not your Momma’s Café”. The best might have been the cement truck that passed bearing the simple company name, “Heck Yes!”  I was definitely a strange sight to the locals but they seemed friendly enough. The post office was on the complete opposite side of town. Ben said he’d walk a ways, ask how far it was to the post office and they’d tell him, “oh, ‘bout a mile.” He’d walk another quarter mile and hear, “oh, bout a mile.” When I reached the building, Ben was inside going through our new treasure box. We stuffed the goodies in the backpacks and headed back. I found out Ben had run most of the way to the post office just to make it in time before they closed… he made it with ten minutes to spare. We got a few groceries and returned to the river.

As I was packing up the food in the canoe I got the strangest feeling of déjà vu. This I expressed to Ben who replied, “know what’s weirder? There’s Chris and John.” I turned around and there they came. We caught up with them and spent the rest of the afternoon sharing stories and postulating how to catch the catfish below Natchez; Chris said plainly, “just put a hook in a goat and send ‘em down.” We pulled over for a bit so Ben could Skype his sister. We are highly technologized (I just added that word to the Microsoft Dictionary). St. Francisville was our destination and we reached it in the early evening. It seems that most Saturday nights are the same for me. Towards the end of the day I’m generally tired, frustrated, and have a negative outlook on the evening and having to hike into the city to find a church. This evening was proving to be another self-imposed cartoon storm cloud over my head. This was exacerbated by the fact that the landing at St. Francisville was six inches of black mud. We decided to paddle down a ways and see if the actual town was farther downriver. We approached a fisherman who was in the process of landing a nice fish. By the time we paddled up to him he had his turned away from us, shirt halfway up his back, unhooking the fish. We didn’t want to startle him so Ben said, casually, “Howdy!” He jerked his head around, cigarette hanging out. He smiled wide and held up his fish. We found out his name was Ken and that he lives up in Angola. He told us about his life on the river, how he has swam, fished, boated, and otherwise caroused on it since he was young. He is in the river and the river in him. He told us about his Mississippi River fishing savvy and had the fish to prove it. He strongly cautioned us about the river below New Orleans— as the ships pass by (not barges, ships) suck up enough water from the bank that you’ll be sitting on mud and then they throw the water back, ten to twelve feet high, and crush you. It may not end up being that extreme. Anyways, he told us we missed the town so we prepared to go back up river a little ways. I turned around to say goodbye one more time and as he waved to us I saw his pole double over. I yelled and pointed and Ken spun around and heaved on the pole. He landed a 10-12 pound blue cat and we celebrated with him. I marveled at the fish and he said plainly, “you want it? You can have ‘em if you want.” I looked at Ben who shrugged and I said, “why not?” I tried tying him to the boat, alive, and we once more said goodbye and began paddling away. The fish snagged on a rock and we came to a standstill. He spent the rest of the trip back on top of the tarp, relieved of his mental abilities. Though the sun was setting in Louisiana it was rising over my cartoon cloud, slowly burning it away. It was dark by the time we got to the landing and seeing a fire we paddled to the nearest sand bar.

We met a family who was spending the night on the sand bar at the mouth of “Bayou Sarah”. The man of the family, Robert, greeted us first and was baffled that we were canoeing the river. As we got out of the canoe he went to the tent and returned with two double cheeseburgers. “It’s called McDonald’s” he said and handed them to us with a smile. There were a hundred colorful quotes I could have reprinted here but nine are coming to mind. He introduced us to his wife and we walked over to the fire and met his son and daughter-in-law. They told us to help ourselves to the cooler and the snacks. We threw our catfish in their cooler and settled down to a hotdog on a BUN (bread is rare for us). I was amazed that they had welcomed us in so freely. As I stood by the fire I thought I must have looked super creepy with my beard and the shadows. We laughed into the night, listening to their tales of gar fishing and fire fighting. I should have seen it coming, because it always does, but everything turned out perfectly. We were comforted by a warm fire, full bellies, and new friends. You’d think I would learn my lesson about Saturdays. I was especially happy when Ken showed up at our campsite later in the evening just to make sure we were doing alright. It just really spoke to me that he genuinely cared for us, and after only meeting him for ten minutes.

Sunday morning, Robert’s wife headed into town to get breakfast, returning with sausage/biscuit sandwiches and hot chocolate for us. Ben and I then packed up our valuables, leaving the tent set up. We had no idea what we’d find in the town of St. Francisville. You could see the water line from this spring stained on the road signs and some buildings. We went to the first church we saw, a white one on a hill. We climbed up the grassy hill and sat on a concrete bench, getting a feel for the place. it was definitely Catholic and the Spanish style building well manicured.  We sat there waiting for someone to invite us in. Well-dressed people kept walking by and the church was filling up. With five minutes to go till mass started we just decided to walk in, the grungiest people in the building. We were welcomed warmly and were able to place our gear in a corner. We sat in the back and began to look around. The inside was brilliantly white and heavy, varnished pine pillars lined the aisle on either side. As the introductory hymn played, the place filled to maximum capacity, we felt like we were in somebody’s seats and we tried to give them up but the greeter wouldn’t have it. As we sat there trying to fit in, there came behind us a voice in the midst of the crowd, “Going down the Mississippi, huh,” the voice asked someone by the entrance doors. We turned around in our seats and there was the priest (if that’s his title) waiting to greet us, smiling. He wore a white robe with a diagonal green sash. In his right arm was cradled a very large Bible and he welcomed us with handshakes and then left to begin the service. It was my first mass ever and it was tough to keep up with the rituals. The singing was especially beautiful and it was great to finally see the Catholic side of things. Afterwards, we were asked a bunch of questions, the paddles being the conversation starter. On guy asked, “you boys need some money?” We accepted the $20 from him gratefully and asked about the city.

We left the church and began down the sidewalk. We began to pass beautiful buildings with great porches. On the left was an ancient cemetery and Episcopalian church that was shelled during the Civil War. We happened upon a map at a local boutique and as we asked them about the city I noticed a photo book of the city with a photo of a local plantation home on the front. I held it up to the lady and said, “how do I get here?” and pointed at the cover. We made our way in that direction but stopped for food first. The $20 was used for our meal at the local Bistro where Ben got the gumbo and corn bread and I got the jambalaya and potato salad. The food was great and as we were walking out, a guy noticed our paddles and started up a conversation. He was a fellow paddler and, upon hearing about our quest for the plantation, offered to give us a ride when they were done eating. We thanked him and began our walk. A few minutes later, he pulled up and we got in. We told him about our mission and he wanted to introduce us to his pastor, Tim. We drove back the opposite direction and ended up at the office building of “Open Door Church.” They are non-denominational and I felt at home upon entry. Pastor Tim greeted us and we exchanged stories. He gave us some contacts down river and then we began to talk about what there was to do in the town. He told us we just missed the Angola Penitentiary annual rodeo.

Angola is apparently the largest prison in the US and they have this unusual rodeo where the inmates participate and people from all around the world show up to watch. They have what they call the “poker table” event where four inmates sit at a poker table and they release an angry bull in the ring; the last man still bravely sitting at the table when the bull charges wins the money. Sometimes the bull sends the guys flying. They also have an event where they attach a poker chip to the forehead of a bull and the guy who pulls it off wins the money. Crazy. Pastor Tim wanted to set us up in a complimentary hotel room but we told him we wanted to get a few miles tonight. He had us instead come to his house. on the way there he drove us to the Rosedown Plantation where we got to see the mansion. At pastor Tim’s we showered in a little adjoining house and relaxed. I found a book on Louisiana plantation homes and learned about “Oak Alley” a plantation right along the river. We are going. Pastor Tim then took us back to the river and told us about the local guys who hunt for a living the invasive, wild hogs in the area. They go out with pit bulls and chase the pigs down. The pits pin the boar to the ground and then he come up and ties it, LIVE, and takes it to his farm. Tim went with these guys one day during the flood and they caught hogs with a boat as they were swimming from island to island. The guy who hunts the hogs recently lost two of his dogs to a nearly four hundred pound red hog. THAT is extreme and awesome and enticing. We thanked Tim for his hospitality and then packed up our gear and left.

A mile down the river we went under the new bridge. A mile after that, the bridge disappeared as a heavy rainstorm barreled in upon us. We just decided to stick it out and got out the raincoats. The storm proved to be the most torrential of the trip so far. It was a whiteout all around us. We couldn’t see the opposite shore or more than fifty yards in any direction. The rain turned the former glassy river surface into an appearance that I can’t really describe. We finished the day in the dark- wet and cold. But once inside the tent, we are at home.

St. Francisville, LA is mile 1,698 of the trip—265 to go.

J. Detweiler the Younger

Flying South

Paddling into Memphis was a wonderful day of paddling, because it was only 5 miles! This was probably the shortest day canoed yet, but we were ready and excited to meet new people, get showers, and sleep in real beds. Memphis has its own harbor, which creates a peninsula on the outer side called Harbor Town. The tip of Harbor Town is called Mud Island, which is has a wonderful museum about the Mississippi River. This museum holds the flatboat used by Richard, a man we met all the way back in Rabbit Hash Kentucky, and some guys that did Lewis&Clark’s journey. We paddled into the harbor, and found our way to the Memphis Yacht Club. They let us keep out canoe their, as we anticipated our new contact coming to pick us up. The family that we were to stay with, was named the Harbur’s. They were friends of the Bower’s, who we had stayed with in Owensboro, Kentucky! It’s neat to see how the Lord has everything connected. As we waited for Mrs. Harbur to come pick us up, ABC 24 out of Memphis came and did a short interview with us. We then went over to the Mud Island Museum, and took the full tour. One of my favorite things at the museum was a scale model of the Mississippi River. The model was .5 miles long and showed the contour of the river, as well as the actual water level of the river scaled down! It was a great time, and Jon especially enjoyed it. Sherry arrived at the boat ramp, and we loaded all of our valuables into her suv and drove off. She dropped us off on Beale street in Memphis, because it is a famous road known for Blues music. She also dropped us off at the Peabody hotel so we could go to the top to see the cityscape. As we entered the hotel in our old river clothes, and started up the elevator. When we finally got to the top, there happened to be a private party on the roof, so we weren’t able to see the cityscape. As we were riding down the elevator more people would get on at different floors, which left us pretty crowded. We weren’t worried about the crowding because we were claustrophobic, but because we didn’t want our stench to be discovered! We finally were able to get out of the corner of the elevator, and we hopped back in the car. The Harbur’s had decided to take us to Corky’s BBQ in Memphis. Corky’s is famous for their BBQ, and have had many famous people dine there. Sherry’s husband met us at Corky’s along with their friend Eric. Jon and I still order the same thing, so we both had ribs. We had a great time with them there, and then it was decided that there would to be played back at their house! Went ended up playing a card game called hand and foot, with Jon and Sherry coming out the victors. We stayed up pretty late, and we knew that we had to get up at 4:50am central time to Skype WLIO in Lima, Ohio. We woke up before the rooster crows, and got our computer ready for the interview. We ended up not being able to do the interview, because of technical difficulties. We went back to sleep, but I wasn’t able to sleep much. As I was still laying in bed, I could hear that Jon was in the kitchen talking to someone who I didn’t know. After a little while, I went out to the Kitchen and met the man who Jon was talking too. He was a man who Sherry worked with in the real estate arena, and used to play in the NFL. We enjoyed our scrumptious breakfast and talked to Coleen, the Harbur’s daughter, as we ate. Most of the day was spent blogging, but we had to make it to the FedEx hub and USPS before they closed. Sherry was so nice, and ran us to each one before we went back to the river. The FedEx hub closed at 5, and was closest to their house, so we went their first. We arrived shortly before closing, and picked up our new solar panels! We had to race to the post office to beat its 6 o’clock closing time, but we got there with 9 minutes to spare… the Lord is good! Sometimes we don’t attribute minute things like making the FedEx and post office before they close to the Lord, but I think the Lord makes all things work out for our good! Sherry and Coleen tried to get us to spend another night and we could just hit the river the next day, but we chose to get rolling… which Jon was kicking himself for that! Sherry gave us so much food, along with some cookies to die for. We said our goodbye’s and paddled out of the harbor into the setting sun. We camped just around the first bend form the city, and got Mississippi mud all over our feet as we landed.

In Memphis, we had been given the personal cell phone number of a guy in the upcoming city of Helena, Arkansas. John Ruskey was his name, and he is the owner of Quapaw canoe company. We had read articled about him, and really wanted to meet him. So what better than to be given his personal cell number?! As we paddled towards Helena, we knew that there was about 70 miles until we would get there. We were paddling along, and we saw a guy sitting by the shore with his kayak in the water. Jon said, “Let’s go meet another fellow paddler!” His name happened to be Ben as well, and we ended up paddling the rest of the day with him. He had just returned from Panama, we he ran a hostel and surfed every day! He told us a story about when he was living down there, that one day he came home and found a boa had eaten his cat! Praise God we don’t have to worry about those. We ended up camping with him that night, and making a combined dinner with both of our foods. We made chicken fajitas, and he had fresh vegetables to go with them. He also had a plantain, which he fried up and served as an appetizer. Plantain’s are now my favorite, but I would have to move to Central America to get them every day. Ben cut up a watermelon as we sat around the fire, and we enjoyed it. Jon made some of the best oatmeal of the trip, adding powdered whey milk, bananas, brown sugar, and syrup to the oatmeal. Ben was traveling more at his leisure, so we headed out before him. We got to share the Lord with him before we left, and show him the love that Jesus has for him! We paddled towards Helena, and arrived there around three o’clock. We had been told of a big Blues Music festival in Helena, and it happened to be when we were passing through. Now that I look back, I can see why we were suppose to be in Helena when we were. We were able to camp next to a bunch of people our age, and were able to share the Lord with them and love on them. One guy that we met was named Cory, and he said more than once that everything happens for a reason and boy do I believe that! Helena, Arkansas was the official home of the Blues, and has a famous radio station that was the first to play black music way back in the day. We ended up getting some fresh vegetables and two watermelons at a farmers market in downtown Helena. We met an older lady there who was selling meals. We got talking to her, and she ended up giving us free cornbread and cake! We hung out with our new friends that night. The next morning we had to pick up a package at the post office, and be at Quapaw canoe company by nine. I trekked to the post office, as Jon cut up watermelon for our camping neighbors. I met up with Jon at Quapaw, and we were able to meet John Ruskey. We was leaving to take people on a river trip, but he still made time to give us wisdom on the last part of our journey. Ruskey has canoed to the Gulf several times, and recommended that we take the South Pass finger of the Mississippi Delta. He let us stay at his company all day, so we read outdoor magazines, napped, and talked to some of his staff. Ruskey gave us his friends number, to help us find a church to go too. Kevin Smith was his name, and he had canoed the length of the Mississippi before. He told us about his church and what time it started, so we decided to go there for church. Cory ended up driving us to church, so we appreciated not having to walk! We walked into St. John’s Episcopal church, and stayed for the length of the service. Afterwards, Father Travis took us to the grocery store where we loaded up on groceries. He then took us back to the church, and gave us 20 MRE’s, because he had been a chaplain in the military and didn’t plan on eating those things haha. He drove close to where our canoe was, blessed us and said that we would be in his sermon the next Sunday. We were able to pray for him as well, and pray that his son would find the Lord. We left Helena fully loaded down with food and water. Our canoe was riding low in the water, but we appreciated all of the hospitality in Helena. As we left we put out the solar panels, but the wind almost blew them off! Our solar panel works great, but not in the water.

The next day, we met another guy named John who was from Minneapolis. He had canoed the whole way, and his destination was New Orleans. From New Orleans, he said that he was going to take a bus to Chile and then possibly go to Europe. He worked as a substitute teacher as well as at a pizzeria. When he saved up enough money, he would then go on adventures. He was the classic Minnesotan being tall and lanky and having a nice sized beard. I could feel Jon coveting his beard! The campsite that we had that night, was one of the best yet mainly because of the sunset.

The next day we paddled until about 4:30, and stopped because we saw a house. We made a path through high grass, and walked toward some houses. A group of construction workers were remodeling all of the homes on this island, because of the Spring floods. They let us get water from the outside faucet, which had just been put in a few weeks previous. One of the construction workers had lived in Ohio. He warned of rattle snacks, but we still had to walk through the high grass to get back to the canoe! That night we camped right across the way from the island we had gotten water on. Jon was preparing dinner, and I was scouring the sandbar to find driftwood. Two deer had come down to the river to drink, but then decided to try to swim across it. At the same time a barge was coming up the river, but they must have not saw it. They were about into the channel, but must have seen the barge so they turned around back towards shore. As they were swimming back, I was running down the sandbar to capture this rare moment. Jon came running after me, and grabbed his Cannon camera. The doe came out first and was really scared that we were there, but Jon was able to capture some great pictures.

The next day which was October 12, we met a guy named Gerard. I had seen a faint hint of smoke coming from the shore, and we paddled over to meet whoever was over there. We ended up meeting Gerard, and listening to his stories of pretty much living as a nomad all over the USA. He wasn’t homeless but chose to live out in the wild, and find work when we needed too. He was about 50 years old, and had graduated from a high school close to where I live! He told us stories of surviving the winter in the mountains of Colorado, with nothing but a box of matches. He also had to walk all the way back from California to the Carolina’s, and almost died in the desert on the way back. It’s amazing to hear that people are living like this right here in America, and we never know about them.

I received a call from our Uncle Paul, telling us that he had a cousin who lived in Jackson, Mississippi. He thought that maybe we would be able to stay with them, but with Vicksburg being 40 miles from Jackson and with their schedules he didn’t know. We paddled on past Greenville, Mississippi and stopped at a grain elevator to get water. Claude was the first guy we met there, and he let us fill up our water jugs. Lynn came over a little bit later, and they were telling us about the flood in the Spring. The water there had almost crested the levee, and would have flooded land 30 miles back. They told us that one barge can hold 65-75k bushels of corn,wheat, or soybeans, which keeps a lot of semis off the roads. We made it to another great campsite that night, and Jon went right away to fishing. That night I found the best spot for cell phone signal and marked it with a stick, because I had a radio interview with a station back home. I had heard that if you put your cell phone upside down that you will get more signal… it actually works!

As we were packing up the next morning, we saw that one canoe and one kayak were ahead of us. We caught up to them and found out that they were from Wisconsin, and had started the Mississippi River near Minneapolis. They happened to be brothers, and were ending their trip in New Orleans. We paddled with them all day, and ended up camping with them. There names were Chris and Jonathan…we seem to be meeting alot of Jon’s on this trip. Chris was 32 and Jon was probably in his late twenties. We enjoyed dinner and a campfire together. Jon(Detweiler) and Chris hit if off, and ended up staying up until midnight talking.Ended up talking to Rhoda Yoder, and she has offered us her home for the weekend! I went to bed and didn’t even hear Jon come into the tent, which is super hard because the zippers are so loud.

We all left about the same time the next morning, but Jon and Chris pulled out a little before us. We were on the home stretch to Vicksburg, where we knew we would get to meet the Yoder’s(Uncle Paul’s relation). A cop on a boat talked to all of us, and gave us some advice for when we near the ocean. I had some friends back home who were actual getting married in my backyard, so with the wireless internet card that we have I was able to Skype their wedding and see some of it from a thousand miles away. The funny thing was, that I was skyping while floating on the river and I can’t imagine what the barge captains were thinking. We pulled into the Vicksburg harbor, and docked by a tour boat ready to go out on its “sunset tour”. We met a few folks from Ohio, and also heard about a 12 gator that hung out across the way. Warren Yoder came down Vicksburg and picked us up. We packed all of our gear in his wife’s Honda Fit and shot out towards Jackson.

-Ben

The Mighty Mississippi

Seeing our families crest the hill, was liking watching the Chance from Homeward Bound come bounding over the hill… so awesome! You really begin to appreciate and think alot about those who really care for you. After all of our gear was brought up from the river to the van, we had to figure out if we wanted to put the canoe on top of the van or hide it somewhere until we returned. Conrad, (Jon’s Dad) said, “I found a place to hide it under a pine tree.” We all help carry the canoe over to the tree, and then slide it under the massive lower branches. There were grapevines that helped to hide the boat, but we were still a little hesitant to leave it. There were only two cars there when we hid the canoe, but if they had wanted to steal it they sure could have! It was really obvious… 5 people caring a canoe and then shoving it under a pine tree! We just had to trust the Lord like we have the whole way that He would protect it for us. Just as a precaution, we took down the license plate numbers of the cars that were in the parking lot just incase our canoe decided to disappear. As we were leaving, we were informed that we were going to

eat at a restaurant in Sikestown, Missouri named Lambert’s Throwed Roll’s (no spelling correction needed!) We share stories with our families about our travels as we cram both families in our van. We had to take the long way to get to Sikestown, because the bridge to Missouri was closed for repair. During the Spring floods, a levee was blown, and the shock could be felt at this bridge thus the repair. We drive about thirty minutes, and arrive at Lambert’s. After waiting for our table, we were seated and then the fun began. They live up to their name about throwed rolls. They have one guy whose main job is to stand at the back of the room and throw rolls at people as they want. The kid trowing them was maybe 17 years old and full of energy. Jon kept getting him to throw rolls to him, and Jon put away about 4 rolls before the main dish came. At one point, Jon’s brother signaled for a roll, and the kid throwing the rolls almost hit a lady behind him in the head… but Jesse plays football… good hands Jesse. As you are eating rolls, they have other workers walking around with free appetizers… all you can eat. You really are about full when you get your main dish! After filling our bellies, we anticipated a soft bed at the hotel.As we arrived at the hotel, my mom got a phone call that two of my sisters had been in a wreck. My heart sank and I was feeling not only for my sisters but my mom as well, because I knew she was 700 miles from them. I knew that the Lord had protected them, and after talking to my sisters I had more peace. I did a little concussion test over the phone with my little sister Brittany, just making sure she was ok. She can recite her ABC’s backwards, so if she could do that there was no way she had a concussion!

We got to our rooms and got ready for bed. My mom said that I fell asleep while trying to journal about the day. I had my headlamp on, so she woke me up and tried to get me to go to sleep. Soft beds are like Christmas in September, and boy do I notice a difference in sleep when I am able to be in a bed! We all ended up down in the lobby, eating the classic hotel breakfast…except for one interesting thing. They had a pancake machine that all you needed to do was push a button, wait a minute and out came a pancake. The first time I pushed the button, it spit out a pancake the size of my pinky fingernail! We ended up being in the lobby for a couple of hours, as we talked about everything imaginable. It started to rain as we sat there, and Conrad said, “You boys are going to get your Mississippi baptism!” We had to get going after this, so we packed up everything as usual. The lady at the front desk heard of what we were doing, and said that she would be praying for us! We filled up out 7 gallon water jug in the bathtub, and then got out of town.

As we returned to the park in Cairo, Illinois we went to see if our canoe had made it through the night. We pulled the canoe and all of our gear under a cement viewing tower because it was sprinkling. Our mother’s brought so much food for us that we could of fed a small army. As we tried to find nooks and crannies to shove all of our food into, ourmoms were scheming about trying to find a warm place for us to spend the night. We decided to stay in the park for the night to our mother’s dismay. As they pulled away it started to pour rain, and i’m sure our dad’s had to keep them from coming back! We called a few people that we had met along the trip to keep them up-to-date on what was going on. We love to talk to our new friends!

After camping the night there, it was decided that I would trek into town to the post office, because Jon’s knee was still swollen from Cincinnati. This walk into town can be compared to Brink’s truck picking up money from a business… it was that important. My mission was to bring back the new sculpted paddle shipped to us from Sanborn Canoe Company. It took me about 40 minutes to get to the Post Office. The post office and the courthouse are in the same building, so the structure is very neat for a post office. I went up to the service counter and asked for the package. The USPS lady handed me the package and I opened it. The paddle was gorgeous as expected, but the shaft of the paddle was thicker then my paddle. I think they did that on purpose so he can’t break this one! As I was leaving the post office, I was looking for a place to fill up our water bottles as well as a place to type upload some pictures and video. The police station and the fire station were right across the street, and I felt that I should go to the police station to ask for water. I started to go the opposite way, but ended up turning around and going to the station. An older lady there told me to go to the fire station, because they had better water. I went around back of the fire station and knocked on the door. A young black man came out of the door and I asked if I could fill up our water bottles. He was instantly cordial and offered me to even take their water bottles. Wes was his name, and we instantly became friends. He took me out to the bay where all of the fire trucks were parked, set up a makeshift table and I got to working on some computer things. The fire chief came back after a while, and he took pictures of me with two of the firefighters. Iguess the fire station is the place for adventurers to stop, because a lady who swam the whole Ohio River stopped there as well. I ended up staying at the station for about 4 hours, but they kept telling me it was no problem I was there. Wes was on a 24 hour shift, so he probably always enjoys company. I finished up what I

was doing, and asked Wes if he could take me back to the park. We walked out, and I assumed that we would take the small chevy truck they had. Nope… we jumped into the biggest fire engine they had and roared back towards the park. Wes was telling me about the history of the town, and how it use to be a booming place with 20k people. Now there are around 3600 people, and there is not much going on. We roll up to the campsite, and I see Jon scrambling for his camera… he couldn’t believe I got a ride back on a fire engine! After talking to Wes for a little while and getting a picture with the fire engine, Wes departed for the fire station. Thanks for you service Wes.

We decided to spend one more night at the park, and hit the Mississippi the next day which was Tuesday. We were nervous yet excited to start on this new maze to the sea. With the current and us paddling fast, we got the canoe up to 10.4 mph for a short period! On the Mississippi, the Army Corp of Engineers constructs “Wing Dams” on most inside corners of bends in the river. The purpose of these dams are to focus the water towards the outside of the turn where the main channel is. All they consist of are piled rocks made into a long wall.The problem with these, is that they are partly submerged and create rapids. Water rushes over the top as you go over, at the bottom there are boils and whirlpools, and then the water somehow turns around and comes back towards you! After a few of these, we said we would rather be out with the barges then to flip in one of these! The “wing dams” were the first part of the trip where I was actually scared.

With the newly discovered current, we knocked out 30 miles no problem.I wanted to end the day early so I could catch up on some journaling, so we looked for a campsite. Since the water is low right now, there are massive sandbars everywhere. We went back into a cove created by one of the sandbars, and thought it would shoot us back out into the main channel and then we would camp on the other side of it… bad idea. After canoeing through really shallow water, we saw that there was now a half mile desert between us and the main channel. Here were our options: either canoe backwards about a mile and exit there or drag everything half a mile across “the desert” to the other side. Since we had ended early, we decided to do all of the heavy lifting now instead of in the morning. It took us about an hour to walk/carry our gear and the canoe to the other side of the sandbar. Let’s just say we earned our dinner that night.

I made oatmeal with peanut butter for breakfast, and then we set off. Since our GPS decided to die, we are now watching the river mile signs to see how far we have to go. We paddled until about five o’clock, and then a town(a rare sight on the Mississippi) came into view. The town was New Madrid Missouri. We paddled over to the boat ramp, but on the way to the ramp I saw a suv pull over and watch us paddle in. I knew that they were interested in what we were doing. We were almost out of water, so I grabbed the big water container and started to walk up the ramp. That same suv was waiting for me as I crested the ramp. A retired man by the name of David asked me if I needed any help. He ended up taking me back to his house to fill up our water jug. His wife was kind of startled to see what her husband had brought home. I introduced myself, and I think she started to trust me. They gave me a huge cup of sprite, so I drank it in order to not be rude. I have drunk more pop on this trip than I have the past 5 years of my life! David then took me to a store to pick up a few groceries. David took me back to the boat ramp, and we continued to talk. It still amazes me how the Lord sets up people to provide for us!  We canoed another mile and camped on an island.

We departed the next morning around 9:15, and it turned into a scorcher. We seemed to go around a thousand bends, and then ended the day in Caruthersville, Missouri. We knew that we had an interview with a newspaper in Dyerburg, Tennessee so where we camped was super close to where we would be interviewed.

I decided to make pancakes this morning the next morning for breakfast, but with our camp stove it is a little tricky. The heat is very intense, and since we have no butter we have to use oil. I ended up making mini elephant ears for breakfast, but they still tasted great! We only had to paddle about 7 miles to where we were to be interviewed, so it was a pretty easy morning. Jason from the State Gazette in Dyersburg came down to the river to interview us. He was a really nice guys and even brought us 2 gallons of water. He stayed with us a couple of hours, and even introduced us to some southern candy called “divinity”. Divinity tasted like ice cream but looks like marshmallow paste. Jason said that his grandma made even better, but we didn’t know the difference. As our interview started to wrap up, we kept hearing gun shots not to far from where we were standing on the beach. I began to look in the direction of the shots, and could see that the bullets were going out into the river edge! Jason said that he would go tell them to quit so we could pass without getting shot! After getting the go ahead, we paddled on only having canoed 7 miles by one pm. Jason had some connections he said down further, who might be able to take to a few places and help us out. Come to find out that the connection is a man named John Ruskey. We have read articles about him, and his canoeing the lower Mississippi! This was definitely a divine connection from the Lord. We paddled on, and eventually asked some people fishing where the Missouri line was, and he pointed back the way we had came…welcome to Arkansas. We ended up camping on another island about 70 miles from Memphis.

Since the next day was saturday, we try to end the day near a city so we can go to church on Sunday. It was nearing the end of the day, and we had pumped out about 39 miles that day. We almost stopped for the night, but kept going to try to see the next mile marker. After the mile marker, the roof if a house came into view. I scrambled up the steep hill side, watching my step in order to not tango with a cottonmouth or water moccasin. As I crested the hill, I could see a cabin whose windows were gone, there were security cameras on it, and there was construction equipment all over. I kept saying “Hello” as I walked to the back of the property, but no one responded. There was a Kubota RTV sitting outside a shed, so I walked towards it. I could hear a tv inside the shed, but I had been fooled before as weekenders usually leave a tv on for noise. I knocked on the sheds door, and out came a man maybe 30 years old who looked half asleep. I asked him is there were any towns close, and he said we already passed it! Jon and I got to talk to him for a while, and then another guy named John Johnson came over and started talking to us. Came to find out that we were on a 4,200 acre private island, owned by an Alabama Senator. This was kind of his get away hunting preserve, and Steve, John, Joe, and Shane were building him a new house! They offered for us to stay with them for the night and we accepted. They called the Senator and he said that we were allowed to stay  the night. They had turned a shed into their bunk house, but there was beds and mattresses for everyone! John put on some of his wife’s vegetable soup for us, and bot was it great. Shane was telling us about how bad the mosquito’s get on the island, and he said, “Those mosquito’s will tote you off!” We had a great meal and talk with them, and then we went to our beds in the makeshift bunk house. We got one box spring and two mattress’ a piece, which was double the awesome! We woke up the next morning and Steve had cooked us salted ham, pancakes, pig fat, and John’s wife’s homemade jellies and jams. Steve said, “They call it jam because they jam it in the jar!” They still had to work a few hours, so we went and helped them just a little. Since this place was an island, there was a slew that separated it from the mainland. The had to transport all of there materials for the house across the slough in a boat. It was awesome, they would load a pallet of cement block onto the boat and bring it to the island. Then the trackhoe would remove it from the boat onto a trailer hooked to a tractor. Steve was bringing over an I beam and a cottonmouth had been hiding in it, so he killed it and brought it over to us. After finishing up work, we ate lunch and then rested some. At around 4pm Shane and John took us out around the island to go hunting for wild boars. They had just killed a 250 lb. hog not to long ago, so we were ready to bring home the trophy! I went with John and Jon went with Shane. We drove the little Kubota RTV’s around, and then decided to split up and each pair would sit next to separate swamps. John could tell I hadn’t still hunted much, because I moved my head a lot. As it neared dusk, John and I headed back to the house. We pulled up, but Shane and Jon had beat us back. We had cornbread and beans for dinner,and boy am I starting to love cornbread. Jon and I got to pray for John’s diabetes to be healed, as well as mobility to come back more since he was paralyzed on his right side. He had undergone brain surgery, and ended up paralyzed for a short time on his right side, but through his faith in Jesus and his determination, most of it came back. We thank God for this experience. We spent the night again on this sweet island, and then had to part our ways. I filled up a few jugs with water from the tap, but Steve recommended that I shouldn’t because it was gross. I took it because I thought that we might run out before Memphis… bad idea. The water in the jugs turned to a muddy brown, even though it came out clear from the faucet. The water from the Mississippi was probably better than that! We paddled on anticipating a few days to Memphis. At about 5pm that night, we rounded a bend in the river and we started to see skyscrapers and then a black pyramid! We had made Memphis a whole day earlier then we thought! We stopped and camped in a little cove behind a wing dam, and set up camp as the sunset burned on.

-Ben

Cairo or Bust

Once the previous blog was finished I returned to my little room at Dave and Cleda’s. They had insisted we sleep upstairs partly because there were beds but also because there was air conditioning. I turned it on but then thought of all the coal barges and fuming power plants (“cloud factories” as Ben calls them) and felt enough conviction to turn it back off and open the screened window.

In the morning (Monday the 26^th) Cleda made us bacon and eggs and then drove us to the river. There Dave watched us pack up and then left because it was raining. Reuben’s wife Barb (the couple who owned the riverfront property where the tent was) gave us a map and wished us well. It was tough to get back into that canoe but the show must go on and we mustn’t miss our date with the family this upcoming weekend.

Not much happened during the day but we stopped at a large island called “Diamond” where we explored around and took turns decimating the wild grape vine population. Our projected campsite for the evening was on a “towhead” which is an unnatural island caused by river dredging (they just pile up the sand in a heap that turns into an island).  Before we arrived the sun was nearly set and because our destination was in view we cut the engines for a bit and floated—the sun reflecting off our wake is always soothing. The island had a beautiful grassy beach and, with the aid of headlamps, we had the tent up in no time. (tonight put us at mile 866)

Ben has led the charge in gathering river trash to throw away but I picked up a few bottles today, one of them being a large empty glass bottle of Jim Beam… I’m wondering if people will still believe us that we don’t drink if they see that thing in the boat. For lunch we stopped at the entrance of the Wabash River into the Ohio. We walked the shore looking for interesting stones to ship to the Bower’s kids to ad to their ever-expanding museum. Instead of an elaborate lunch we napped on the sand dunes and watched the towboats and barges navigate the bend in the river. Sturgeon island was our destination for the evening and we made it before dark. A campfire was in order and I gathered wood while Ben made the mac and cheese. After dark, the schools of baitfish, using the shallows as cover from the big fish, began to be mercilessly attacked by hungry fish. It went on so continuously that I felt badly for the little guys… it’s a tough life being on the bottom of the food chain. We got a call from Kinley (the Bower’s oldest daughter) and got to hear the birthday song, again, from their second youngest, Elyse.

On Wednesday we stopped at long-awaited Cave-in-Rock, IL. Just before the town is a large cave that goes back around two hundred feet into the rock face. We were told that river pirates, pillaging settlers who were floating down the river, used to hide here to escape prosecution. It almost seemed manmade especially because in the middle of the amphitheater-like formation in the back was a crack in the ceiling that let in a shaft of light. Cave-in-Rock, the town, is cool because main street ends in the river—you have to cross the Ohio on a ferry. For lunch we ate in a beautiful river village called Elizabethtown (IL). Way back in Tell City, IN, the guy that took me to get groceries at CVS told me that there was a great little floating restaurant in Elizabethtown that, if we went to, he would call in with his credit card and pay the bill. It was wonderful to get out of the canoe and watch the river from inside the air conditioning. We both ordered fried river catfish, which was delicious. Once the ladies figured out how to accept a credit card over the phone, we were off again. As we entered a beautiful gently sloping section of the river with a lot of willows, we passed by a jug floating in the water, which we see often, but this one was swimming upstream. We spun around and went back. Sure enough, on the end of the hook and line attached to the jug was about a 2lb blue catfish. The bottle had the address of a guy named Joe Lenocky… congratulations on your catch, Joe. (we released it y the way)

We took our evening break on a nice beach and kicked around a beach ball that had washed up. As we prepared to leave, I got in first and Ben pushed us our perpendicular to the shore. He did a stroke which put us beyond parallel to the river. We had quite a ways to go yet that evening so I said, “we need to roll,” and dug my paddle deep and pulled hard to get us moving. The words had hardly left my lips when my paddle suddenly shattered in two. Time slowed as it happened and for a second or two my mind told me it hadn’t actually happened but as soon as I came back to reality I sat there stunned, mouth gaping, eyes wide, trying to come to terms with the implications of what just happened. As soon as it happened, Ben turned around but then turned back around to let me have my moment (apparently he had wanted to laugh but then realized that would have been the worst decision he made all day and turned back around to cover his mouth). I sat there for probably fifteen seconds staring at the two pieces of paddle, one in each hand. I thought of the people who had told me to bring a spare and I was put in my place. I had Ben immediately beach us and I hurriedly lashed together a splint for it with zip ties, two shoelaces, two feet of duct tape, and a few feet of rope Nate Gundy gave us for the trip. We set off again but I had chosen my splint hastily (i.e. poorly) and it broke again. The last ten miles we paddled in the dark, my paddle being fifty-percent shorter than previously. We did have a few good laughs as we paddled in the dark, recounting the moment. When it was Ben’s turn to have the short paddle, he tried to sit in the bottom of the canoe and looked hilarious. We made it to the sister islands and Ben made another good dish of mac and cheese.

While Ben was making dinner I went looking for a new splint. I learned my lesson on haste (I can imagine being scolded by an Ent… the paddle was probably made from one of his friends as well). I chose carefully the second time, securing a sturdy sycamore branch. I stuck the machete into the sand leaving about 6 inches of blade above ground. Using that as a stationary planer, I flattened one side of the branch and reused the duct tape, shoe laces, and rope (I was sorry those zip ties were junk now) to put it all back together with the help of Ben. I called Zak Fellman at Sanborn Canoe Co. and left a message on his machine– something about being desperate for another paddle. If I have to pay $130 for a new one (the first paddles were donated) I will get another Sanborn… I will never buy a paddle from another company. After a few trial strokes in the water it was deemed sea-worthy and we went to bed.

The other day we had arranged a meeting with Wendy Broderick in Peducah, KY for this evening so we hustled to the town. As we passed through the last major lock, Zak called back and said he’d ship out another paddle FOR FREE. I told him I’d pay for it but he declined. How can I ever thank him? We arrived early in Paducah, despite the head wind, and Ben went looking for wireless internet while I watched the canoe. On his way up, Ben ran into a trio of older folks who are river-watching regulars. They told us about the daily habits of the albino deer on the island just off shore, all the international people they’ve met at the dock, and that a loaded barge can weigh up to 1,700 tons (one of them was a retired towboat captain). One of the ladies came down and offered me some cookies. After seeing the festivities in town, Ben came back and had me come with him. I had just been talking to some guys who were fishing, and asked them to watch the canoe. The floodwalls have beautiful paintings on them and there’s even an original brick street. They had a fish tank of river fish and some 70’s tribute band playing. We slipped into a bar/café to charge our electronics and warm up. By the time we were done eating Wendy was in the town so we went to meet her. We drove around to find a place to hang out. We parked in a church lot and Wendy laid out before us a delicious spread of chicken wraps, hummus and pita chips, blueberry scones, cider and more. With the food came long boards which we played around on and she also brought a Frisbee. I hadn’t touched a disc since we left and it is amazing how much joy a flying piece of plastic can bring. Once it started raining, Wendy took us back downtown. There we gathered up our stuff, and the replacement paddle she brought us (!), prayed for each other, said goodbye and parted ways. We found the canoe and just as we got in, it started to pour. As we paddled, the tribute band sang on and some guys from the bank cheered us on. Less than a mile away we set up camp under a willow tree. Once inside and dry, all was well.

To our dismay, we discovered in the morning that a raccoon had eaten every single one of the leftover scones Wendy had bought for us. He made an attempt at the pita chips but didn’t seem to like them. Today we made it to the exact midpoint of our trip, mile 981.5. It felt good and I guess it’s all downhill from here (get it? It’s been downhill the whole trip).  In the evening we went through lock 53 which had a wicket dam (a short dam on hinges which can be lowered in high water so boats don’t have to lock through). We had to lock through and found out that the lock we were going through had been there since 1928… it’s as old as my grandpa. We then passed lock 52 without having to lock-through. Just after that, we came across a flotilla of seven small yachts. We had only seen boats moored together like this, side by side, one other time and weren’t sure what they were doing. I was sure they were interesting so we made up an excuse to talk to them and headed over. We asked if there were any houses along the river where we could camp. Quickly we found out they were not locals. They all seemed to be of the retired age and were having a good ol’ time. To our question one of them responded, “No, but you can stay on my boat if you want.” There was no way we were going to refuse this offer so we tied up and came aboard the Southern Belle and greeted people. They decided that the next boat over, Passport, would have better sleeping arrangements so we hopped on over. The couple that owned the Passport (John and Mary Morgan) let us into the cabin of the boat to show us around.  They said we could sleep on the couches that were a part of the upper deck. We climbed the white stairs and laid down our valuables. The upper deck had a wheel and controls and was enclosed by clear plastic to keep us out of the ever descending temperatures. Back downstairs we talked with the couple who had originally invited us aboard, Kermit and Kristine Wold. Kermit turned out to be one of our favorites. While we were getting our gear out of the boat he remarked, “you know, if you were trying to hustle money going down the Mississippi would be a great way to do it. We all laughed and exchanged business cards. John and Mary let us cook on their stove and we made broccoli and cheese soup. Before it was ready Kermit stuck his head in the door and said, “I checked them out. (looking at me) three time sexual offender, (looking at Ben) Al Qaeda operative.” I told him he should have seen Ben with the mustache and beard. Kermit gave us some mashed potatoes he had made and zipped out. At one point John and Mary left the cabin and I looked at Ben and said, “an hour ago we were just hoping to find a campsite with sand that didn’t slope too much and now we’re sitting in a boat cabin on couches, using running water, and talking to a bunch of new friends.” It was truly a one of a kind experience. Later, Kristine came back with some lentil stew packets for us.

We found out that all of these boats are doing what they call, “the Loop.” The Loop is a 6,000 mile journey of interconnected waterways circling the eastern half of the US. You can start from any point but basically the trip encompasses the Great Lakes, the Illinios, Mississippi, Ohio, and Tennessee Rivers, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Atlantic coast. I was fascinated and retirement is sounding cooler than ever before. Ben and I climbed the stairs again, took one last look out over the water and went to bed.

We were awakened by the sounds of starting engines. Boats began to separate from the flotilla and head upriver to the Tennessee River. Seeing my bandaged paddle, a guy gave us another one and another lady gave us granola bars. We waved goodbye to Kermit and Kristine and prepared to leave ourselves. Mary made us coffee and toast and got our stuff together. We only had eighteen miles to go today, in order to get to Cairo, IL, so it wasn’t much of a hurry.

With three miles to go till the Mississippi River we stopped for lunch. Once we rounded the first bend the river opened up into the largest conglomeration of barges I’ve ever seen. Acres worth of floating iron were on our left, right, front, and back. Keeping to the shore to avoid the traffic on the main channel, we paddled into a sort of cove of barges and would have been cornered if it weren’t for the gap between two that were tied end to end. We had just enough space to get through so we did. Once around the last barge the mighty Mississippi came into view. It was a beautiful sight; however, we were in the channel now so we paddled hard to get to shore. As we neared the shore, I noticed two guys on shore who were moving their arms around and pointing in various directions. When we got there they both introduced themselves. The leader was named Kenny Gibson and his cohort was Jethro (of course his name was Jethro).  Kenny was probably in his 40s and began to tell us stories about his grunt days on the barges. He looked the part with his curly mullet tucked into the trucker’s hat, Miller High Life in his right hand. Jethro was probably the same age with wild eyes and unkept beard. He was getting kind of rowdy and it didn’t take too long to realize he had had one too many. Kenny would say something and Jethro would hoot in agreement and then pound the wooden broom handle he was holding into the ground for emphasis. At one point he started pretending the broom handle was a shifter and went through all five gears and then hooted. I though it was funny for about a minute then got kind of annoyed, Kenny told us about one icy day in January where he saved a man’s life who had fallen off a barge into the water; “probably the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” he said. He told us about the power of the river and how dangerous it could be. Jethro stumbled up to the truck at the top of the bluff and started yelling for Kenny. Kenny ignored him while he finished a story and then sauntered up after Jethro threw his beer can in the bushes and whooped. I though I should probably ask so I did: “where’s your designated driver? Are you guys driving yourself.” Kenny replied, “yep, Jethro does it all the time.” I told him he was going to kill someone but he just waved and left. We met some people in a house boat and then two motorcyclists from Missouri. The one cyclist and I were having a great conversation when out of the corner of my eye I saw Ben and I’s families coming down the walkway. They greeted each other warmly and gathered the gear. (that’s all for tonight… I’m tired)

Jon

(PS: Ken and Jonnie Mudd… if you are reading this we have been trying in vain to find your phone number. Call us sometime soon!)

97 million candles in my eyes

Sunday Sept. 11 to Sunday Sept. 18

Feeling rushed to get up and find a church in the greenwood area, we broke camp around 8am and paddled back to the KY side. There, a hot breakfast of oatmeal was begun by ben. Soon after, a guy with sunglasses and a cup of gas station coffee noticed us and struck up a conversation. His name was Brad Smith and coming down to the boat ramp to watch the river is a normal, relaxing part of his week. We asked concerning churches and he explained how to get to the nearest Baptist church. Brad left soon after and by that time breakfast was ready. As the last bites were being finished, Brad returned in his black Ranger. He had measured the distance to the Baptist church and offered us a ride there. With all the gear (and myself) safely in the back, we headed to church.

The “Missionary Baptist Church” of Metro Louisville looked like an old Spanish mission with its two square towers and large wooden doors in the middle. Brad had to return home to the grandkids so he left with our gear so we wouldn’t have to unload and later reload it. As he drove away I realized we were letting a basically stranger drive away with all our gear with only a name and a phone number to contact him. Though this may seem unwise, we have really been able to sense who to trust and he had our full confidence. We were early but a few people began to trickle in for Sunday school. Inside, we set our backpacks down and greeted people. They had a wonderful little southern-style worship set with good harmony, a guitar, and mandolin. Sunday school was on the return of Jesus (Lk. 17) and all participated in discussion. More trickled in as the service time neared and we offered many more smiles and handshakes; they really seemed pleased to have strangers join them. At the end, the pastor and worship leader prayed for us and generously gave us some grocery funding. After church Brad picked us back up and took us to the ramp. He held up two Happy Meals which he had gotten for us and we enjoyed moments of reminiscence with each bite (there are still toys in the boxes too). Brad stayed with us for quite a while and only left when it was time for him to get to bed (he works 3rd shift).

The boat ramp was alive with people all day. It was great to have nothing to do and nowhere to be. Some would come and stand by the river watching the scenery, some were putting in boats, some fishing, etc… A group of young high schoolers came down from a birthday party at the park on the hill and hit us with a barrage of questions and skepticism that we were really from Ohio and were really going to the Gulf. Several others spoke with us and we received another $30. Then came one of the highlights of the trip. The first person we met yesterday at the ramp came down again, this time she told us her name (Brenda) and introduced us to a friend of hers, John. She had been kind of scared of us yesterday and laughed about it. They were going on a date soon and it was hot so John took of his shirt to avoid getting it sweaty. After I got over the shock of how muscular he was, I saw his “Rangers” tattoo. This opened up a fascinating conversation about his time in the military. The icing on the cake was when he told us he had been a part of the operation had been the base for the movie “Blackhawk Down.” He had even been one of the men who had to run the Mogadishu Mile (LOOK IT UP).

In order to make up a few miles we floated down the river a few miles to a sandy beach and watched a wonderful sunset. Monday afternoon we made it to Brandenburg, KY. During our afternoon stay we picked up our care packages at the post office. While in line we heard a little boy tell everyone in the room that his mommy might have a baby in her belly but he wasn’t sure yet. On our way out a man named Steve held open the door. He advised us on locations with wireless internet but none were within walking distance. He then offered to let ben do some blogging at the courthouse up the road where he worked. In the mean time I went down to the river and opened the treasure chests and emptied their contents into our food buckets. Ben returned with food from an old jail house turned restaurant (apparently, the hanging floors are still there inside). Some of the locals came down and we watched a little boy named dustin lee run around and pick up dead fish and show them to me.

From Brandenburg we paddled till dark and then continued by headlamp. The full moon rose shortly thereafter and with the factory lights in combination with our own lights we could see fairly well. As we neared a bend a powerful, searching spotlight was tracing the shoreline, apparently looking for something. We were probably the subject for when we came into view the light completely blinded us. To reference Lord of the Rings once again, it was as if the eye of Saruman had found sam and Frodo. He then quickly became disinterested and pointed the eye parallel with the barges he was pushing and then disappeared into the darkness.

Tuesday was mostly uneventful aside from the massive rope swing we found. After fifteen minutes of that were sufficiently cooled off to continue. As evening approached a beautiful little yard appeared on the other side. After a little buttoning of the shirt, combing of the beard, and removal of our hats we scrambled up the hill. A man was outside and while talking on the phone told us we could camp there for the night. He invited us up to charge our devices and offered a few bottles of water.

At 6:30 Wednesday morning we awoke to, “hey ben! Do you guys want some breakfast?” It was the first time on the trip I had been awakened by someone’s voice outside and it was startling. We readily said yes and said his wife and the local reporter would be over soon. He (Keith) asked us if we needed to do laundry. We said no because of time issues but then realized how grave a mistake it would be to refuse such services so I took it up and threw it in while he told me of the tornado of ’74 and his time on the river. Keith’s wife Susan came and made us eggs, bacon, and biscuits while we exchanged stories. We told our story all over again to the local reporter. Keith told the reporter at one point, “I was bumfuzzled when them boys first came up from the river. Thought they had boat problems or something.” We left with hugs, again amazed at the hospitality.

We made it to Dodd, IN that evening where my pastor Urie Hershberger and his wife Amanda met us to take us out to dinner (they were vacationing this week not too far away). They took us to Tell City a few miles away. Ben and I once again got the same meal as each other, this time we got gyros. We had wonderful conversation and both were very encouraging to us as they shared their lives and vision for the future. The couple returned us full in belly and spirit to the boat dock. It was raining by then and we found a house and knocked. The inside said we could stay and we pitched our tent underneath the building which was on stilts (flood prevention).

Thursday turned out to be our longest day of the trip so far. We paddled around 42 miles and ended in Owensboro, KY. The front that came in last night gave us one of the coldest days yet. We stopped in Tell City for groceries. Ben stayed at the ramp to make some calls and I found a couple and asked them where to get groceries. Their names turned out to be Paul and Lisa and they became adamant, after hearing how far we’d come and why we were canoeing, that they wanted to take me to the store. I agreed and hopped in. I found out that they were Christians and were very excited about mission work, especially multi-cultural. We stopped at CVS and I grabbed a few things. When we got back, Paul prayed for me and we exchanged information. We made it 30 miles to Rockport and then made a delicious dinner of Italian tomato pasta with grilled cheese and vanilla wafers and fig newtons for desert. Ben then discovered a voicemail from a lady who lives in Owensboro. Apparently she is related to my neighbor Roy Steiner and wanted us to stay with her family. That meant another ten miles in the dark, but it was definitely worth it. At around 10:15pm we arrived and Janna bower’s husband Merrill picked us up and took us to their beautiful home. There they gave us cake and we talked about the steiner family. I got my first shower in 13 days. Sometime you should try not showering for two weeks… the delight of that experience on the last day is worth it.

In the morning janna fixed us pancakes, eggs, ham, and fresh fruit while she fed the four kids and hung onto the fifth, baby sylas. I was amazed at how she kept everything in that house in order. We blogged and organized photos all morning while interacting with the

Little Elyse at lunch time

thoughtful Larayna

children: (eldest to youngest) Kinley, Tyce, Larayna, Elyse, and Sylas (their age range is 7 yrs old to infant). We hadn’t anticipated staying till lunch but there was so much to do that we were still there by 1pm. Janna cooked up a foot and a half long salmon fillet and served it with avocado/ strawberry salad, green beans, and cinnamon bread. The apple and ice cream dessert sealed the meal as our best lunch yet. The kids crowded around to see our pictures and video. By 4pm and we hadn’t even left the house yet. Janna and the kids took us down to the river and the little ones insisted they help us carry our things down to the canoe. Each one grabbed a little box or bag and went scampering down the aluminum railing, making as much noise as they could, pigtails bouncing and paddles bobbing in the air. They took turns floating our decoy duck Wendell in the water. It was a sad thing to leave them behind and as we paddled they gathered around their mother on the shore to wave and watch us disappear around the bend.

sibling play (Kinley and Tyce)

Setting all emotions aside, it was time to paddle. This day will probably go in the record books as our latest start of the trip… 5:30pm. This meant that we had to paddle till after dark again. As the river split around an island, we took the backwater side. It was beautiful to watch the early sunset paint the river trees golden. Our night didn’t end till 11:30 pm which was just after we went through the dam at Newburg. The night was spent on a steep sandy shore in the rain.

The morning looked promising but we had to be in Evansville, IN before the post office closed at 1pm (it’s satudray). We made haste and got there in time. I hiked downtown and picked up a massive care package from Sheri and Emily Brediger and could have whistled with delight the whole way back because I had an idea of the contents… or I thought I did. Back at the ramp, we opened our Christmas present and pulled things out one by one looking at them. “woah, look at this!” “how’d she know to send this?” after we found places for the mass of contents (it was not easy) we shoved off. Just as we did, a couple was putting in their white and red ski boat. The lady was operating the boat and kept trying to start it but it would die after about five seconds each time. She was beginning to drift and a towboat and barge was coming (not that close yet) so I asked her if she wanted us to pull her in. she said yes and to my absolute delight we, in our corn-fed shoulder and back driven powerful machine, pulled the boat slowly back to shore where the guy was piecing together a beautiful puzzle of profanity about that boat. It took a little while to get some momentum, and I thought I was going to have a hernia, but we got it back to the ramp. I could write a book about the battle that man-power had just won over petroleum power, but I will resist. They thanked us and we rounded the bend. The sun was hot and we took a brief hiatus along the sandy beaches of the KY side to swim. The shore drops off so fast that you can actually do running cannon balls into the river. We made it to Henderson, KY with daylight to spare.

We found the first house below the boat ramp and stopped. A nice older gentleman greeted us and agreed to let us stay. As we continued in conversation he told us about the place and town and within FIVE minutes offered us the use of his car if we needed to go anywhere. We could hardly believe it. We set up shop along his flood wall and ben made dinner as the sun went down.

In the morning, ben turned on his phone and had a message from Janan Bowers. We had called her yesterday about the Ohio River Guidebook we had left at her house and she proposed a plan to return it. She gave us many well thought out options and said there was a couple in Henderson that went to their church that could take along. We were very excited to see the Bowers and their children again so soon, but by the time we received the message they had already left. So we slogged into town on foot and found the First Baptist church. We walked in late to the first service and sat in the back. The church was beautiful for two reasons. First and foremost, the pews were filled with nearly two hundred people, but they were all of different sizes, shapes, colors, ethnicities, and ages. I saw little heads peaking over the pews and the elderly with their “white crown of splendor.” And there were young adults as well; it just felt right somehow, like this was the way the church was supposed to look. Secondly, the sanctuary was beautifully white with painted black wooden supporting beams. The organ was clean and brilliant and the wood molding skillfully made. The sermon was the message of salvation. Afterwards, one of the men who sat near us invited us to the Sunday school class he teaches. We met some great folks there and discussed the book of Jonah.

Immediately after church the couple that the Bower’s know picked us up at the curb and took us out to lunch at the Golden Corral. David and Cleeda Parsley and ben and I had a great time together talking about the countryside and David’s time in the military and stint in the coal mines (he reminds me of the older gentleman from the movie “UP” except much nicer). Being an older couple they laughed about their age, calling it their “second childhood”. David told us that he was five months shy of eighty years old to which Cleeda responded, “and he still wants to die young.” David shot right back, “and I still will, too.” After lunch they drove us to their home in Little Dixie, KY which is amongst acres and acres of flat farmland; I felt at home. They had a room each set up for us and we promptly napped.

At 5pm or so we went to see the steam engine tractor that their son-in-law Dennis had in his garage. It was built in 1925 and has only had three owners in its lifetime. He explained how the engine works and how to tweak it to make it perform at its best. He told us the engine was used for threshing, rock crushing, sawmilling, and even ice cream making. It was great to learn about a piece of history and it was obvious that Dennis was passionate about his machine. We talked with them in their pole barn shop and heard ER stories from the Parsley’s daughter Kathy, Dennis’s wife who is a nurse. Their aging collie CeCe made the rounds as we spoke, looking for love wherever she could find it. Afterwards, we returned to the Parsley’s home and finished off the night with their ritualistic evening bowls of cereal. Their favorites are captain crunch and frosted flakes. Cleeda kept telling us to make ourselves at home and eat some cereal, quoting her mother, “root little hog, or die.” We got a good laugh out of that one and had a mutual understanding of the “survival of the fittest mentality,” all of us coming from bigger families. And so here I am, in a little bedroom in Little Dixie, KY typing at a little desk. I’m amazed how I made it to this place. But if feels like I’ve always been here and this has always been my bedroom.

David (after our late-night cereal): “Pretty good supper, ma.”

Cleeda: “Yeah, me and Mr. Kellogg.”

–jon

this is how they do midnight snacks at the Parsley household

The ocean between Ohio and Kentucky

Sunday arrived very quickly, and our 2 day Sabbath was over. We now know why the Lord put the Sabbath in place. When our bodies rest one day, we get rest, but when we get two days of rest our bodies start to heal. After attending my church’s Sunday morning service and showing my 3 week old facial hair, I went back home and packed and repacked things. Jon had stayed in Cinci as I had came home for a friends wedding. My Sunday was actual pretty crazy with getting things done that hadn’t been done before we left on this big trip. As we are on the trip, we are actually filing for non-profit status, so God is working out a lot right now. Monday morning came, and along with most of my family, we left soon after 6 am. The funny thing was, that we kind of had to search for Jon. He had watched the Cinci fireworks last night, and had ended up sleeping in a park. We got a general location and address, and let Emily do the work (name for my Dads GPS). We found Jon strutting along the road and we picked him up. After eating a quick bfast, we went back to the dock where we stopped, because there’s no skipping miles now! We set off, and boy did the waves as well. We had some of the biggest waves we had encountered yet, one even coming over the gunnel. Head winds that felt like hurricanes were blasting us in the face as well. As we rounded a corner of the Ohio river about 5 miles from downtown Cinci, a Coast Guard boat came towards us. They told us that this was a security area, and that we would have to turn back or go to the other side of the river. We complied and heading on. We then found out later, that Vice President Joe Biden was at Coney Island, so now we understand the security! Uncle Jim was going to meet us in Cinci, and he had food, warm food that is. It was great to be able to stop for a little while and talk to him and Ronnie and eat our sandwiches. After we left downtown Cinci, we had only gotten maybe a mile or so, and we saw a homeless couple, so we stopped and talked to them for a while. We got to hear their story, give them food, and pray for them. God really set that moment up. We had to leave because it was getting dark, and had to find a camp site. One thing that has stuck out to us on this trip, is how the Lord gives us favor with everyone. We went up to what looked like an apartment. Jon saw a light on in the upper apartment, so we walked up the outside stairs.A gentlemen came to the door, and Jon asked the guy if we could camp down by the shore. He said no, but we kept talking. After he heard what we were doing, you could see the Lord change his thoughts about us! He let us camp there and boy God is good! He even gave us powerbars and Juice in the morning. His name was Don, and he said that he had been to Africa when he was in the service. He even at one point teared up when talking about Africa.We crossed into Indiana today, and headed down stream (right?). We actually got up to 6.3 miles per hour today on our canoe, because there was a good current. Not to much happened today, but the end of the day was note worthy. As we began to look for places to camp, and after failing to get a place to stay at a camp ground, we headed over towards a house on a high bluff. As we beached, and then headed up their steep steps, we noticed an ADT sign, a no trespassing sign, and a private property sign! It kind of intimidated  us, but we went on up. Their gate was bunjy strapped, so we climbed over a slanted little fence. As we crossed their back yard, I saw people move in the sun room. As we stepped onto the front porch and knocked on the door, a lady with a frightened look on her face asked through the window who we were! I said we were canoeing through and wanted to camp on their beach. After flashing our business card at them, they came out and ended up softening up to us and talking to us for a long time! She even gave us vegetable soup that night, and hot chocolate in the morning! God knows how to care for His kids! The view of the river they had was breathe taking. They were on a bend in the river, and could see a total of 8 miles of the river. After talking to Bill and Joanne for a little while this morning, they recommended a stop in a little town called “Rabbit Hash” Kentucky. We were so thankful for their help, but we had to keep heading on.

We pulled up to Rabbit Hash and trecked through the rough shoreline. The general store in Rabbit Hash has been in business for over 180 years, making it the oldest business in Kentucky. It has survived massive floods, with water even being up to it’s rafters at one point. It had an amazing atmosphere, with someone sitting on the front porch playing a guitar, a wood stove in the back of the store, and old timers drinking coffee and shooting the breeze. Terry was the proprietor of the store and was super nice and interested in our trip. She ended up giving us tshirts and a sticker for us to put on out canoe! Her husband Richard came into the store after a while and started to tell us stories of when he went on a Lewis and Clark reenactment trip. They had accomplished the trip, and a museum at Mudd Island in Memphis kept their canoe that they used! Jon wanted to stay a few more weeks in Rabbit Hash, and he is already making plans to go back. That night we ended up making it to the Markland lock and dam. We saw that there were lots of barges waiting to go through, and I remembered that I had heard that they were working on this lock. I called the lockmaster to see when we could lock through. I heard him say that the earliest we could lock through would be 10:30 pm, but I guess I misunderstood him. Since we thought we had 4 hours to kill, we went back to some houses we saw before the lock. We walked up to the only house that looked like someone lived there. A lot of houses on the river are just weekend homes or Summer homes, but some people do live there. The guy said that we could sit in his neighbors gazebo, which kept us out of the rain. We ate a nice warm meal, which warmed us up. I had been really cold that day especially my feet. The crazy thing is, the water is warmer then the air, so I put my feet in the water alot. As we ate dinner and journaled, we heard the lock blowing their air horn a lot. We joked that they were probably looking for us. Come to find out… they were. I called the lockmaster around 10 pm, which I thought would give us some time to get down to the lock. He said that they had been looking for us, because they wanted us to go through like 3 hours ago. He said that he didn’t want us on the water with all of the barges around, so he said he would send a truck to pick us up and portage us to the other side of the lock. He drug all of our gear and canoe through the backyard of the guy we talked to’s neighbor. You know you have a great neighbor, when they offer people your house when you are not there! I stood by the road with my heard lamp on so the Army Corp of Engineer guy would know where we were. After about 15 minutes, a silver Chevy Silverado stopped. The guy was very helpful and concerned with our safety. We drove us onto the lock’s parking lot, took a left and went off road past a sign that said this was government land. He dropped us off at the top of  a hill, close to a creek that flowed into the Ohio. We carried our gear about 100 yards down a hill and across an expanse of grass. We drug our canoe across the grass as well. We camped there by the creek, right by the continuous barge traffic all night. We had to slide our canoe down a steep bank the next morning to the creek. We now had good day light to see the barge’s as they came. There are green buoys in the middle of the river, which show the tug boats where the channel is for them to go through. We could see the current was strong, because the current was rushing around it. We always appreciate a current, any current, even 1 mph faster means another 8 miles in a full day of paddling. Our goal that day was to make Hanover Indiana before night fall. We made it there with no problems, and started our searching-for-a-backyard-to-sleep-in-routine. We love asking people to camp on their lawn, beach, or land, because we get to build relationships with them. Hanover Indiana had a long stoney beach, with houses on a bluff. After finding out that one section of the beach was off limits, we went down the way. We saw a cute little house with lights on, so we walked up the steps and into their backyard. An older couple ended up coming out and giving us permission to camp on their beach. We found out that Dick was a retired veterinarian, and his wife’s name was Nancy. We were told to camp far up on the beach, because the water was suppose to rise that night, we took the advise for sure and camped high on the shore. As Jon prepared dinner, I made some phone calls. I found out that my friend is setting up a benefit 5-k run for the orphans in Mozambique that we are canoeing for. It excites me that others are catching the vision, and stepping out to do things for the Lord. Nancy brought us some watermelon which we enjoyed with our goulash. The next morning, they brought us down a shell shaped platter with biscuits and gravy and orange juice. One of the things that stuck out to me about this experience, was that when we asked them to camp on their beach, they had friends over at the time. Their friends asked them how they knew that they could trust us, Nancy replied with “I just know”. It amazes me how the Lord shows Himself through us, so that a complete stranger can trust us in seconds.

We headed towards Louisville, specifically 12 mile Island, which was where we planned to camp. We were able to eat lunch on an old barge run aground. I made some phone calls to people who had helped us so far, just thanking them for what they had done for us. We made it to 12 mile island with plenty of day light to spare. The island had concerts some time, so there was a nice lawn and fore pit for us to use. One thing that Jon despises are grapevines. They cover trees and shrubs, and prevent them from receiving sunlight. Whenever he has time, he goes off swinging the machete at the vines to help save some trees!

We departed for Louisville and even passed the Louisville Belle steamboat on our way in. We stopped at the riverside park and docked there. We grabbed all our valuables as usual and headed downtown. We got to pray for a homeless gentleman names Charley. He told us stories of his life and how he had gotten to Louisville. After praying for his leg, and letting him know that the Lord still loved him, we kept walking downtown. It’s amazing to think that the Lord has people right there in front of you at the right time, so you can impact their lives for Him.  As we meandered down town, we ended up eating at Mexican restaurant. This was actually the first meal that we had payed for since we left Ohio! We enjoyed a good meal, and even watched a little English Premier League soccer. Our waitress was very kind and gave us some chips and salsa to go. As we were making our way back to the boat dock, we stopped in a section of the park where hundreds of flags were placed in the ground. They had set up a flag display that spelled out U.S.A on the parks lawn. We walked towards the boat dock, and then noticed that there was a river front wedding going on right beside where our canoe was docked. After watching part of a strangers wedding, we headed for the lock which was only a couple miles away. They had created this lock, to go around a section of the Ohio River called “The Falls of the Ohio”. This is a very dangerous spot where there use to be extreme rapids, so they diverted the water traffic around it. We called ahead to make sure we could lock through. As we made our way down the canal to the lock, another cruiser called the “Fantasia” passed us going towards the lock. As we waited for our locking time, we ended up talking to the guys on the Fantasia. Come to find out, they are from the New Orleans area! They was an older guy on the boat named “Dundee”, who had came up to Greenup Kentucky to buy this boat. He had hired a few deck hands to come up with him as well. They were a hoot to talk to, and even offered to meet up with us when we get down to New Orleans! The gave us 3 gallons of water, and a lot of laughs and we hope to see them again.  As we got through the locks,we decided on a city to spend the night in. After finding out that the city was only comprised of a casino, we moved on. we ended up stopping at Greenwood Kentucky, a suburb of Louisville. A mom and her daughter were at the boat ramp with their dog when we arrived, and we asked them where we were. The mom was kind of blown away that we had didn’t know where we were! I ran up out of the park to see if there was a church that was close, and ended up talking to Luie. Imagine that, Luie from Louisville! He said that there was a small Baptist church up the road. I ran back to the boat dock with the good news. As I approached the boat ramp, I could hear rain on the river but I wasn’t getting wet. As Jon came into view he said that I had better get my rain jacket. Soon after I put it on, the skies unleashed buckets of water! Totally unexpected, but we ducked under a willow tree and remained mostly dry. We decided to camp across the river on the Indiana side, so we hopped over the river to set up camp. This was probably our most primitive campsite yet, but it’s not a problem when you just want to go to bed.

Making Haste For Cinci.

As Ben was finishing up our “week #2″ post i was sitting at the Huntington, WV public dock guarding our belongings with a shady glare and an open-carry Kabar. just kidding, i smiled enough to lower people’s guard and was able to meet a few nice people wondering about the guy sitting by his canoe with seemingly nothing to do. a nap was also in order for i was still trying to recover from the largest meal i’ve yet had on this trip; the pentecostal, apostolic “Original Glorious Church of Christ…” had been good to us! ben returned after sunset and we set off downriver to find a new camping spot. your surroundings on the river can become very eerie after dark. a row of twenty or so barges loomed over us as we navigated the shoreline. then, as ben turned his headlamp towards shore, there was a big splash. to me, the thing looked like a fleshy colored gollum that dove as soon as we saw it. i said, “ben, what was that?” to which he replied, “just keep paddling.” the same kind of thing happened a few feet later except the creature came from shore and splashed across the surface of the river toward us and then dove. funny how your mind can play tricks on you. after a mile we found a beach on the WV side and crashed.

in the morning (monday, Aug. 29) we finalized plans, by phone, to meet a lady from Ironton, OH who happened to find our story online and wanted to take us out for lunch. with the promise of a restaurant meal propelling us on, we made it to the Ironton boat ramp around 1pm. there Kim was waiting for us in her green taurus. we exchanged hellos and then, after she was convinced we weren’t ax murderers, piled our gear and selves into her can. to the local diner it was. at “Peddler’s” she told us to get whatever we wanted. when

Kim, ben, and i at the Ironton bridge

given this option, always choose the buffet. this of course we did and the three of us must have spent nearly two hours there talking. Kim took her first job ever here in Ironton and 32 years later still has the same job in the recorder’s office at the courthouse. we found out that she loves reading newspapers online and that is how she found us. after the buffet was safely inside our bellies she got us milkshakes. when we got in the car, kim told us that when ben and i were away from the table the waitress had whispered to her, “are you sure about them boys? be careful.” kim laughed while she told us and then exclaimed, “she probably thought you were gonna’ knock me on the head!” not only are we now river rats and terrorists, but we are car-jacking, purse stealing thieves.  kim then took us to the grocery store so we could buy groceries. however, when we were checking out she wouldn’t let us pay for our items. people won’t let us buy our own food! she was so gracious to us, driving us around town and pointing out the sights and taking us to her church to fill our water bottles. we prayed for her at the boat ramp and then set off on the second half of our journey. though i don’t believe Kim has any children, she treated us as her own sons today.

 the rest of the day was fairly uneventful. as the sun began to set we eyeballed a beautiful lawn across the river on the KY side. there’s always a part of you that doesn’t want to ask to stay on someone’s property. firstly, you walk across that person’s back yard to the front door. secondly, you smell (well, i’m worse than ben). thirdly, at this particular location, we had to walk through heavy mud to reach the bank so it’s up to my ankles at this point (i don’t think the beard is helping my case either). anyways, we reach the front porch of the house, remove our hats and ring the bell. an older lady answers. skeptical at first, Silvia greeted us, wiping the potato peelings from her hands. eventually the conversation went to her son whom she is so proud of and who also is a mechanical engineer for the Mars Landing project. he is working out in Seattle building the parachutes that land the rovers on Mars. pretty neat. she agreed to let us

campsite at Silvia's

stay. the morning was one of the most striking of the trip. we’ve been getting up earlier as we try to make Cincinnati by the weekend so this morning greeted us at about 6:30am. the fog was so heavy upon the water that you could hardly see the shoreline let alone the other side. without leaving a trace, ben and i pushed off yet again. we decided bravely (foolishly?) to cross to the other side of the river to cut some distance off the bend. we kept an eye out for barges while we crossed, but i couldn’t help but think of the story of the ship collision that killed Horatio Spafford’s family one foggy day(he wrote the hymn “It is Well”) . we made it across and finished a pretty average day. not much happened other than we passed Portsmouth, OH and went through another massive lock and dam.

Below Portsmouth began the most beautiful country we’ve yet seen. i’ve always understood KY to be mountainous but the Ohio side was just as steep and wooded. we wound past wide plains with a horseshoe range of hills surrounding, paddled by creek inlets which were just asking to be explored. however, there was not much time for that for we were hoping to reach Maysville, KY by thursday morning to meet up with our dads who were preparing to paddle with us for a day. near sunset we found a wonderful stretch of the river where steep hills met at the river from either side. again, we walked up to a stranger’s house and asked to stay. the couple here in Garrison, KY were out dismantling their tomato trellises. Bill and Kathy introduced themselves and after a short conversation about us, them, and the Korean war they invited us to stay down by the river. i took

campsite at Bill and Kathy's

pictures while ben set up the tent. Bill then called down to us to come up for some food. i already had the stove set up and ready to light but our motto is becoming, “never refuse hospitality.” we were rewarded for Bill brought out fresh-sliced tomatoes along with a bowl each of beans and cornbread. not only will people not let us buy our own groceries but they won’t let us eat our own food! up until this point, no sound had been able to keep me from my sleep. however, before the sun came up a cricket right by my head but outside the tent woke me up. i had actually just been dreaming that i was looking for the cricket to stop the noise. i swatted at the tent but nothing worked so i got out of the tent in the dark, after i had pinpointed the location of the insect, and pounded the sand with my fist a couple of times. i stood there in silence and upon hearing no further sound, went back into the tent.

Wednesday was fairly normal and we camped near a large white power plant of sorts. thursday was the day we had scheduled to meet our dads. the goal was Maysville, KY and we met them in the morning on the Ohio side at Aberdeen. our dads adjusted their adventurer hats and nestled the coolers in the canoe and buts in the soft seats. though skilled and innovative they be, canoeing turned out to be more of a challenge than first anticipated. at one point, while ben and i barked instructions about which side to paddle on, they were heading straight for a barge. we waved our hands and yelled for them to

the dads

stop. Paul exclaimed, “we keep going like this and we’ll have traveled to Cincinnati twice over.” good thing they didn’t have the SPOT locator on their boat; their path on Google Maps would have looked about like a 5 magnitude earthquake on a seismograph. they got the hang of it and then my dad threw out a line to troll while we paddled. at around midafternoon Paul announced that it was time for a “siesta,” to which my dad responded, “Paul i’ve got something for you… when you feel like jumpin’ in and never comin’ back up… this is your ticket.” he reached into the cooler and pulled out two ice-cold Starbucks frappuccinos. for the next 20 minutes they were wired. after about the eighth mile, talk began about renting a pontoon boat instead. Paul said, “you wait, when we get to that campground i’m gonna’ get a pontoon boat. after that… thata’s all she wrote. i’ll take it out of my wife’s Christmas money if i have to.” (sorry for throwing you under the bus Paul) a nice man in Higginsport, OH let us stay at his campground for free. 

in the morning, ben and i set off while the dads cruised around in the tuck. they followed us for a while and then suggested we end for the day in New Richmond, OH where there was a floating bar/restaurant right on the river. upon arrival at the restaurant, we were dead. the heat index had the day’s temperature at 102 degrees. after a big burger and good conversation with uncle Linford who joined us we got in the car, with the canoe strapped to the top, and went to my uncle myron and aunt molly’s house. there, i was dropped off for the weekend while ben attended a wedding at home. i showered and put my things in the guest room. while i orgaized my photos, all i could think about was that bed upstairs. i went up and couldn’t keep a smile off my face. i haden’t slept in a bed since Aug. 12th and when i finally laid down i actually laughed out loud. i was reminded of Frodo awaking in Rivendale, having been rescued from mt. doom by the eagles. in the same joy that Frodo awakened, i fell asleep. there are some delights in life you cannot have without being without for a long time.

saturday was comprised of eating and sitting around doing some of our media stuff. myron and molly fed me well and for dinner i was given around 15oz of steak at the neighbor’s house. i have not felt so full yet on this trip.

week # 2

So we left Marietta on a new adventure… the Ohio River! We were so blown away by how clear the river was. You hear how dirty these big rivers are, but the Ohio river is a very clear river. All of the grasses that grow along in the shallows are visible even to about 3 feet down. Anyways, we made it to Blennerhassett Island our first day on the Ohio. This island was 4 miles long, and seemed like an eternity to paddle the length to our campsite. We camped on the tip of the island, with the Dupont plant on one side and a barge dock on the opposite side. The next morning is when it gets interesting…

We wake up about 7:30 am to get an early start. We see a storm rolling in, but anyone who wants to start their day off right would eat their oatmeal first right? We tried. Jon had the oatmeal water boiling, and then decided we should get out on the water the cats and dogs started to fall. We headed towards the West Virginia shore where the Dupont plant was. We wanted to follow the shore, because their was some lightning as well as the barge’s don’t appreciate little canoes out in the middle! We had just passed a dock owned by the Dupont plant, and we about 30-40 yards from it, and we hear like a muffled air horn blow twice. We both look back, and see a geyser about 6-8 feet  high shoot out of the river right where we had gone over! We both looked at each other and were like wow!!! We keep close to the shore after that almost mishap, and start to go past a drainage pipe from the river. A man in a red jump suit walks down to the river by the pipe, and starts to write down our canoe’s “OH” number. Jon yelled to ask the guy if he needed to talk to us, the guy said yes so we headed towards him. We find out that he is Dupont plant security, and that their camera’s along the river had spotted us, and our canoe looked suspicious! He was talking about how with Homeland Security issues, the people watching the cameras got a little antsy. We gave him out licenses to calm his fears of us being terrorists. We got talking about our trip and I think he started to believe us. After we left, we started to laugh at how all the things looked right that we could be suspicious! We had a GoPro video camera recording even as we talked to the security guy, we had 2 white buckets, the center of our canoe was mounded and tarped, and we had a gps on the front of the canoe that was blinking…. not to mention Ben with facial hair may get some security guys second guessing! We just had to stop and video document what just happened, so you can find that on our YouTube page.

We headed on and made pretty good mileage the rest of the day. We were going to camp on another island called buffington island that night, found out it was a wild life reserve. We saw a great looking beach, but knew it someone’s property. We beached our canoe and headed up through a mowed field and up a steep hill. We went up to the house on our right and knocked. To make a long story short, this guy ended up driving us to an historical site in his pick up truck showing and telling us all about the area. We found out that on his land the only significant Civil War battle to touch Ohio’s soil was fought! We had thought we might be rejected by the home owner, but the Lord gave us favor.

 When we got back to his place, he gave us sweet corn, green peppers, cucumbers, and another kind of pepper. He let us fill up our water bottles and play with his dog. He was like an instant friend, and we know that no one but the Lord can make someone instantly trust you like that. His little boy hunter rode in the back of the truck with us, and was a funny little guy. He even let us grab some pears on our way down to his beach. We instantly started to journal about the day when we got down to camp. It wasn’t to long, and we heard Chuck coming down the field with his four-wheeler. He stayed with for over 2 hours just talking about everything from guns to how he broke his knee. He ended up giving us both arrow heads that he had found on his land.

The next morning we woke up, it was pouring. Here comes Chuck again! He brought us trash bags for our tent, and even gave us a bright orange coat that works like a life vest! We were so thankful for Chuck, and we know that something was deposited in his life.

We decided to check out buffington island and go the scenic side of the river. On the tip of the island, there was suppose to be clear water and mussels you could see, but because of the rain, we couldn’t see anything. As we rounded the island, a fawn stood frozen in some foliage by the bank, he stood there for maybe 3-4 minutes and let us get some good shots of him. The day seemed to be a little rough for the both of us. Ben was sore and didn’t have a lot of energy, and not to mention there are some pretty long stretches of river that seem to go on and on. When we rounded the corner and saw Racine lock and dam, it was a site for sore eyes.

When you enter a lock system, there are two entrances. One entrance is for barges and the other for pleasure craft. One of the cool things about a lock, is that you get to pull a chain at the end of the cement wall, to let the lock master know that you are there! When you pull the chain, and low whistle goes off. Though about making a song by pulling the chain, but don’t want to push it after our Dupont incident haha! When we exited the lock, there was all kinds of boats, floating pipes, and tugs. We started to follow the edge to get around the commotion, but a man in a boat come over to us and told we would have to wait 20 minutes to get around. We headed back towards the lock, and saw a lady on one of the hydraulic dredges. We started to talk to her about the trip. They ended up giving us water with a cherry on top… ice! There were very helpful, as we were about out of water. We cruised on towards Syracuse where we were going to meet one of Jon’s friends Brandon. We rolled in to Syracuse around 7ish, and docked at a public parks dock. After being told we probably couldn’t camp at the park, Jon went to a very nice house right by the dock to see if we could camp in their yard. The person there was house sitting for someone, but he let us. Brandon came not to long after that, and took us to Pomeroy to treat us to dinner at Wild Horse steakhouse.

We hadn’t really eaten any meat in about a week and a half, so when a restaurant is mentioned, there’s no hesitation. We both got a bison burger, and had a great time with Brandon. When we got back to where we were camping, we had Thanksgiving in August! Brandon and his wife Lauren had bought us groceries! Talk about a site for meat desiring bellies! They gave us Chunky’s soup all the way down to hand sanitizer! We were so thankful for how generous they were to us, and we know that they will be blessed for their generosity towards us!

Woke up friday pretty late. Ben went to un-zip his side of the rain flap, and the house’s dog was standing there with his face by the tent! It was a really friendly dog, but that made us laugh! Got packing all the stuff and trying to get out of camp. Ben saw his little water bottle laying on the ground without it’s top. He went over to it, and discovered that ”Maggie” (made up name) the dog had chewed his cap off!

Got rolling towards Pomeroy, which was only 3-4 miles away. This town was in the Guinness Books of World Records for being the longest town with no roads that intersect. They also have a beautiful courthouse, so we stopped to take pictures. After cruising around town for maybe 20-25 minutes, we headed back to the canoe. A gentleman and his wife drove up to us and asked us if we were the one’s in the canoe. We stared talking to them about what we were doing, and they ended up donating! God is so good!

Here’s where a confession comes in for both of us. Over the past few days, french fries had come up in our conversation. Leaving Pomeroy and about to go under a bridge, the Golden Arches appear. We ended up splitting a large french fry, yes to all those reading this, Jon and Ben ate Mcdonalds! Those calories helped us make it to the next lock and dam… and will probably last us until New Orleans.

We stopped in Point Pleasant West Virginia, because of it’s rich history. They have a long flood wall, with paintings on it done by a professional painter. We met a fisherman named Tim  who hooked us up with some ice and lemonade… and gummy bears!

Since we got the lock and dam pretty late, we decided to camp just on the opposite side of the dam. Place looked great, had a great dinner, great talk, then it was nighty night.

Imagine yourself sleeping on a sweet beach and hearing the water lap up by your tent… pretty cool right? About 11 or so, out came a fleet of ships, and started to dredge the river right in front of our tent, and continued all night long! We actually were able to sleep, but woke up off and on.

Ate a lot of oatmeal today. We knew we only had 25 miles to Huntington West Virginia, so we didn’t rush it.

Had another fisherman give us some water, candy bars, and other things. The Lord seems to lead people to us, right when we need something.

Got to Huntington in pretty good time tonight. Stopped at the public park and thought maybe we could camp there. Ben talked to some cops about camping there, and found out we couldn’t. We ended up talking to some ladies about where we should go to church, and they told us they would have someone call us, because they were not from around there but knew of a good church. After hearing stories of robbery amidst other things, we made our way over to the Ohio side of the river. Found out we could camp on the grounds of a school, so we headed down by the river where we thought the school was. We ended up camping next to 5 retired barges just sitting by the shore. This was our dinner… 1 can chicken+ 1 pack ramen+ 1 pack fried rice= one great meal!

Woke up at 7:30 so we could get heading towards church. The ladies we had met, had text us the church’s number and address, so we headed across the river. We docked our canoe at a yacht club, took our valuables and headed to church. We walked for what seemed like miles, and then found out we were lost. Jon happened to have the ladies number who we met the other day, so we called her. She told us that she had given us the wrong address. We got there close to 11. The Pastor’s wife met us outside and instantly took us in. The service started around 11, and boy was it good. We had praise and worship, testimonies, and prayer requests until 1:45. The preacher gave a Word, and boy was the Presence of God there! People were really touched in the service and Lord did a work in people’s lives.

After service, there was a dinner. They packed us up, and wanted us to take some with us! They were so loving and supportive of what we were doing, and we know that we were supposed to be there today.

There is so much more detail that could be added, but maybe we’ll save some detail for when we get to verbalize these stories!

This week we will head towards Cincinnati. We have our Dads as well as other men meeting us a few days before to canoe with us for a few days. Thanks for your prayers, God is so good. Pray that we would encounter the lost and hurting.

Love you guys, and thanks for following us.