Progress report

Oct 27 to Nov 2


    This may take a while. We are in a primitive section of the river and don't have much access to the internet.
    Monday...We finally leave Memphis. Although Memphis was a great place to stay, we had to get on to business. It was a cold morning. Humidity and condensation covered the tent, but we packed it wet. We were off only 15 minutes late at 7:15. We had switched to standard time, and our departures should be at 7:00 now. Of course, we had to plan to land by 5:00 also. Mariners had warned of 8 mph currents around here, but the best we found was 5 mph. The stardard fare of 8 to 12 mph headwinds was on our plate, but we still scurried along with the aid of the variable current. With wind that continuosly shifted to our faces,We spent a lot of time keeping the boat sideways to the current and floating along.
    The winds continued to increase in our faces, but I hoped to make significantly more than 1/2 our scheduled two day mileage in the first day. We passed the Gold Strike Casino Hotel and then another casino that looked like a castle from Disneyland on the Mississippi bank. We pushed on, and after 4:00 we located, on the charts, a small harbor between the sand bars a few miles down, on the Mississippi shore. We pedalled on, past a seemingly endless sandbar, as the sun began a race with us. Would we get to the harbor before the sun abandoned us? We scanned the long sandbar we were hugging for the anticipated harbor or even a solid object to moor to. With the harbor only a 1/4 mile away we spotted a pile of driftwood on shore, that looked like it had been stacked for a bonfire. We pulled up onto the shallow shoreline, Where we pushed and lifted the boat 15 feet up to the edge of the dry sandy beach. I found some logs under the bonfire to tie our lines to. I tested the mooring and tied off the boat. It was almost dark by the time we had the tent up. The winds continued all through the night as did an endless line of towboats that made us feel as if we were at the beach being continuosly washed by the surf of incoming waves.
    Tuesday morning the chill was enriched by the un-ending wind blowing upriver. We dragged our feet packing, allowing time for the tent to dry and our spirits to warm. We didn't leave till 8:00, but our tent was dry when we packed it. The water level had dropped a foot overnight, and it took some extra shoving to free our beached boat from the sand and mud. Unfortuately the river's current had also diminished. The wind hadn't. We struggled for the next 30 miles. The current's best speed was 3.5 mph. You have to be in the right place in the river to get the best current. Narrow places hemmed with dikes produce the best currents. When the river is wide or you are near the inside bend of a curve in the river, the current decreases. We kept the marine radio on whenever tows were near us.
    We were following a line of red buoys (indicating the border of the channel on the left descending bank of the river.) They gradually merged with the Mississippi shore line. The Mississippi shore line became the channel boundry. Usually we stayed out of the commercial channel as much as possible, but now we now we were forced into it. The green channel markers on the right showed up several hundred yards to our starboard. I saw a tow 3/4 mile upstream from us and calculated that we had plenty of time to cross the channel and get safely outside the channel beyond the green markers close to the Arkansas shoreline. We were almost to the green channel markers on our way out of the channel when I heard on the radio, "This is _____. I see something like a kayak in the g___d___ middle of the channel. Those fools are gonna get run over." I asked Ted for the radio, and called back, "This is little sailboat, and we are heading beyond the green markers to get out of the channel." Profuse expletives and warnings came back across the airwaves. "Stay out of the channel! Get off the water!" I felt hurt, but I had seen him before I crossed the narrow channel and had plenty of time to get across and out of it and away from his course. I wanted to radio him back and say that we were well aware of the situation, but I didn't want to get into an argument with a tow captain, so I controlled myself and kept quiet. We stayed close to the Arkansas shoreline as he and the boats he talked to passed us.
    On our way down the river, I radioed other tows and gave them information about our intentions. No one else was unpleasant to us. My only regret is that I didn't radio the angry tow captain before I crossed the channel. We still believe that a boat like ours (unpowered) should stay out of the channel, but near it, in case of dikes. With a headwind it is even more difficult for unpowered craft to maneuver. At a bend in the river the current drifts toward the outside bend, and when there are tows in the channel, on the outside bend, it is imperative that we fight the current staying close to the inside of the curve. At times, we turn perpendicular to the flow, and pedal toward the inside bend of the curve. Twice, we raised the sail when it seemed the wind was turning to a favorable direction. Both times we had to take it down within minutes as the wind rotated to in front of us. We weren't making very good time. Finally at 4:00 we reached the Harbor at Helena, Arkansas.
    Arlene had been watching our struggles since 2:30 from the levee downstream of the Harbor. It had been a tough thirty miles. Ted and I were both aching, but we had learned some things. Our muddy landing made setting up the tent difficult, but the mooring would be calm in the Helena harbor. The police dropped by to check on us, and I told Ted, before I left for the motel, that they were watching out for him. He laughed and said his usual, "See you in the morning Greg." We did 42 miles on Monday and 30 on Tuesday.

Helena, Arkansas boat ramp


    Wednesday...The weather show last night predicted 5-15 mph winds from the south, and for Thursday the winds were to pick up to 15-25 mph FROM THE SOUTH! I was depressed and sullen when I awoke at 4:00am. The previous day's scolding by a tow captain and the pending headwinds dampened my spirits. Arlene was not happy either when I woke her for our chores at 4:45am.
    After we arrived at the boat we worked in six inch deep mud to lubricate the crankshaft and file down the insides of the pedals my Dad made. The water had finally swollen the black walnut enough to make them sticky. Working with lithium white grease is a messy job, and it doesn't stay white for long. The clothes, Ted and I wear are streaked with grey from our encounters with the crankshaft bearing points.
    We had a very late start, launching at 9:00. My sullen attitude diminished as we slowly pedaled out of the scenic calm harbor. The winds soon began to pick up, but amazingly they tended to be from the east, and we were able to use them most of the time till about 12:30 when they swithed to blowing in from the south at 10-15 mph. It was not good. The Mississippi River was down 2.5 feet from normal and the current was 2-4 mph. (mostly 2 mph)
    With the winds in our face at 15 mph and a 2 mph current, we had to pedal rigorously to attain 2.5 mph on the GPS. By turning the boat sideways and drifting, we could make 1.5 mph. When the headwinds picked up to 25 mph, we were pedalling in molasses with all our strength and going backwards. My depression was returning. The winds were supposed to be even stronger tomorrow. We had 80 miles to go to meet Arlene, and we made only 22 today.
    At 3:30 we attempted to land in a bay surrounded by sandbars. We ran aground twenty feet from a section of shore that had a large stump to tie off to. We had to walk around in the shallow bay for some time before we found a channel that would allow us to float the boat closer to the shore. Then we dragged it partially onto the beach.
    During the day, Ted and I discussed some of the hazards of the Mississippi River. The red and green buoys anchored in the channel markers. They are large metal floats and tend to attract boats. Whenever we are near one, the current tends to drag us towards it. To become entangled with one in a current could be disastrous for a small craft.
    In some places the channel gets tight, especially around bends in the river. At times you will see tows holding up waiting for an oncoming tow to clear the bend. When the current is strong, going around a bend, your boat tends to be swept to the outside of the bend. When there are tows around, we must fight to keep our craft from being swept to the outside of the bend into the tow's channel. Those same forces tend sweep you towards the channel marker buoys. Ted and I vowed to stay far from the channel when the river bends, even if we chance running aground. That also slows our progress, but we feel it's worth it.
    Thursday
    We agreed to get up at 5:00 so we could get an early launch and beat the headwinds before they picked up. The headwinds never let up through the night, and at 5:00 the winds was whipping our flag and contorting the tent. Naturally, it was coming from downstream into our faces. We pondered our fate. The river had dropped another six inches, and the 500 yard wide bay we were in was drying up like an African mud hole. What were but shallow spots the night before, were now islands. We searched for a channel, walking the boat as it continuosly beached on the shallow indulations of the sandy bay. At 100 yards out we thought we had it made, but it took another 100 yards to extricate our boat from the hidden sand bars.
    We had given up hope of beating the 20-25 mph headwinds and decided to cross the river to the Mississippi shore where we expected to find a better mooring than the diminishing mud hole we were at. We struggled, pedalling a 1/2 mile downstream upwind to reach a point where we could sail 1/2 mile across the river. As I attempted to raise the sail in the high winds a sail batten got hung up in the halyard. Then we started drifting towards a green buoy, and I had to abandon the sail raising to help Ted pedal clear. I finally got the sail up and the blocks attached to the traveller, but I didn't have time to complete the rigging as we were drifting towards a dike. I worked the sail, half rigged, while Ted steered a course across the pounding waves that were striking us abeam. I had to stand on the rear of the windard beam to keep the boat from pitch poling (summersalting) as we screamed towards our new landing on a broad reach.
    The leeward hull was dipping precariously deep into the two foot surf as we neared our next landing on Island 63. We managed to beach the boat at a good spot with dep water and a good tie off. We wondered about how long we would be here. We wondered if we would run out of food or water. We decided it would be best if we could contact Arlene for help. Our next meeting point was still 58 miles away. At 0 miles per day we wouldn't be there for a long time. I barely managed to get enough signal strength for the cell phone to contact Arlene at her motel. I asked her to be ready for me to hike out to somewhere. Then, I discovered that we would have to move the boat off Island 63 to the actual Mississippi shore in order for me to hike inland. The river charts were excellent in their detail of highways and dirt roads near the river, but the section of charts where we were only detailed nearby dirt roads and the path of the levee. I had to hope that a highway was nearby. I emptied the large drybag that could be strapped on as a pack, provisioned myself with a day's supply of water and food, and hiked out, using the GPS and the charts for navigation, through the woods. I soon found a muddy back road that appeared on the charts. My direction of travel puzzled me though until I noticed that the north arrow on the USACE map number 68 was off by 45 degrees. This was the second chart I had found where the north arrow pointed the wrong way. Three miles of mud road led me to the levee. Three more led me to pavement. Several cars passed me on the levee, but only one stopped to give me directions.
    He told me that a half mile down the levee was an exit that would take me another half mile to state highway 1. I reached the pavement and called Arlene. We needed supplies and I was somewhere on highway 1. I supposed I was 22 miles south of Helena. She laughed at me when I said I was near a cotten field standing by some large bales. After an hour and 45 minutes I called her to see if she was OK. She was all the way back to Helena and hadn't seen me. I went up to some houses along the road and got suspicious when I saw a mail box with OLD RIVER ROAD lettered on it. I knocked on two doors till a pair of women, lounging with their door open, told me that this was Old River Road and highway 1 was down that-a-way. I calld Arlene, explained the goof up and started hiking down Old River Road toward highway 1. She met me before I got to the highway. I was relieved to be able to drive the seven miles back to camp. She brought us plenty of food and water. We would have to reorganize the boat for this much extra cargo. Arlene had to drive back over the muddy roads for a long trip to her motel. we certainly felt thankful for having Arlene help us. We vowed to be up at 5:00 and be ready to sail at the earliest light.

Near Stoval, Mississippi... six miles from nowhere, across the river from the last camp


    Friday..Zero miles yesterday, and the morning breezes were from the south when we started packing at 5 am. We had to do some miles. Anything was better than zero. We launched early headed out of our back eddy and into the bend in the river. The headwinds helped the back eddy pull us upstream. We had to fight to break out into the current. As we did, two tows with big strings of barges appeared downstream of us. We had no choice but to slip into the next back eddy only a few hundred yards downstream. Small dikes extending from the outside of the bend afforded us the back eddies. We had made 1/4 mile in 1/2 hour, and now had to hold for tows sailing in the channel. The wind was blowing us back upstream. we decided to raise the sail and sail back upstream past the dikes to a safe landing we had seen earlier. We made slow progress against the current as the wind became inconsistent. After an hour on the river we landed an 1/8 mile downstream of our last night's mooring. Soon the tows passed and the wind subsided to 10 mph. We launched again. In the absense of tows we utilized the current in the channel, and with rigorous pedalling were making 1.8 mph on the GPS. I figured the current was about 2.5 mph in the best spots. At least we were moving. At 3:30 with 25.5 miles done, we looked for a good landing and found one. We have learned something every day on the river.
    Happy Birthday Mom!
    Each night, after camp is established, walking the sandy beaches aglow with the colors of the setting sun, I find the animal tracks. The insect tracks make hopeless meandering circles in search of the foliage higher up the bank. The coyote tracks set a straight course for distant prey. The deer tracks prance to the water, they casually follow the shoreline only to bound back up into the shelter of the trees higher up. The turtle tracks are sled runs from the foliage to the water's edge. The heron tracks seen unusually large with a span as big as my hand.
    Saturday morning we were up at 5:00 packing in the dark. By 6:30, a half hour before sunrise we launched into a light 5 mph headwind just as a tow rounded the bend. We grabbed a small chunk of the channel a few feet offshore on the outside of the bend, and dared the tow to get close to us. We had thirty miles to make Rosedale harbor, and we did not want to "hold up" like the tows are continuosly doing when they meet another tow coming toward them at a tight spot in the river. I listen to the radio and hear their ongoing navigation agreements. They ask for traffic reports. They decide whether to pass on the starboard side or the port. When you hear,"I'll see you on the one. " it means they are going to pass on the "one whistle side or port to port." The two whistle is starboard. If they want to talk about something other than navigation then they usually switch from channel 13 to channel 12, where you can hear about their brother-in-law, their new car, or what they ate last night. I leave the radio on most of the time now as it helps keep me aware of when tows are in the area. I still don't understand all their jargon, but what I hear is useful.
    When we were in the clear of tows and in the current with the winds diminishing we were pedalling at 7.2 mph. It was unlikely that we would be so lucky as to continue at that rate all day. We were slowed up eventually, but we did make the entrance to the Rosedale harbor at 2:30. Our 30 miles were done, but we had two more miles to pedal up the harbor to get to the boat ramp. My cell phone finally had just enough signal strength to reach Arlene. She raced out from Cleveland, Mississippi to meet us 40 minutes later, stopping long enough to pick up a hot meal for us. At 5:00 she took Ted to the Catholic Church in Rosedale. Nobody was home and no hours of service were posted. Calling the church only gave us a recorded message that mass on sundays was at 11:00 in the summer. We talked to several locals, but none were Catholic. After leaving Ted at the mooring we tried talking to more locals and telephoning the churchs, but no new information was available. Ted and I both ache all over tonight.

Rosedale harbor, Mississippi... six miles from nowhere, across the river from the last camp


    Sunday...We were up at 5:30 to make the 40 minute drive to Rosedale harbor from Arlene's motel in Cleveland, MS. At 7 Arlene took Ted back to Cleveland for a shower and then off to 9:00 Mass. I did boat maintenance, packed the boat and talked to lots of Sunday morning fisherman. I was told to put up our provisions, due to black bears in the next 40 miles of river. I was warned about heavy turbulance near the mouth of the Arkansas River, just a few miles downstream. I thanked him and made plans to keep to the Mississippi side of the river till I passed the Arkansas. Ted and Arlene were back at 10:30, and we launched at 11:00.
    The trip out of the harbor was three miles, and with a light headwind we weren't out until noon. One of the fisherman told me that his wife had seen a couple of kayakers get wiped out by a tow. He said she was distressed by the scene. Fortunately we have learned a lot of lessons. We have a formula developed and under refinement. My canoeing experiences have helped in determining our course down the river. Our formula is based on the low water levels and 2-4 mph currents we currently are facing. Tows are our biggest hazard. They usually round the bends on the outside where the current is fastest. We have three choices as to where to be when they pass us: inside the bend, outside the bend, or parked. If the wind is strong we should be parked. If we choose to take the inside of the bend we must point the bow at the sand bar inside the bend and pedal to stay as close to the sandbars as possible. If you don't, the current will pull you towards the outside of the bends into the path of the tow. It's better to run aground on the sandbar than the other scenario.
    Our other option is to hug the shoreline on the outside of the bend. On the good side of this strategy, you have good current and you won't be pushed away from the shoreline. The bad points are: If a tow gets out of control you could be squashed. As you pass irregularities in the shoreline of the outside bend, the water plays numerous tricks such as back eddies and whirlpools. We have been caught in some back eddies that had a three mph current going upstream. When we left the haror this morning we had a heck of a time clearing a 300 yard back eddy.A whirlpool spinning us 360 degrees showed us a panorama of the river. With our late launch and mild winds in our faces, we only made 13 miles after getting out of the harbor. We landed in the sand and gravel on the upstream side of a dike at Catfish Point. The wakes of passing tows are minimized when you are on either side of a dike that protudes into the river. By 4:45 (ten minutes before sundown) we had camp set up. I watched deer scrambling across the sand flats toward the shelter of trees, after their drinks from the river. My main thoughts seem to continuosly return to how to stay alive.

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