Joe & Isaac's Adventure: Episode 3 - Chapter 1

Opinions differ. Some say that beauty ends where the blueness of the Ohio is drowned at Cairo in the green and yellow and brown of its merging. But have they seen the Mississippi at Natchez, tawny in the sunset, its river sky of crimson and indigo and gold plummeting from the bluffs to the flat green land beyond its western banks? Have they watched from the levee the lights of barge and showboat, so yellow in the thick, whispering night? In the fury of a storm in the South Pass, the whitecaps rise so high that you cannot see the reedy rim of land across the river; only angry water and a gray sky from which the heron and pelican have vanished. And there is humbling beauty in this unity of wild water and wild heaven.
--Hodding Carter

It's not the most attractive photo we've taken over the years, but this picture of the milemarker at the Head of Passes is hands down the most meaningful for Isaac and me. We did it! We boated down all two thousand three hundred and twenty two miles of the Mississippi River.

Of our three excursions, this last one frightened me. I was not fearful of the river's headwaters. I had previous experience canoeing in the northern wilderness regions of this country. I was not fearful of the upper river. I knew its waters well enough and I took comfort from the fact that the upper river is heavily populated. In the event of trouble one only needs to reach the shore and walk a few miles into town. But the lower river scared me. It wasn't so much the river itself; I'd seen its turbulent waters and understood the danger posed by its raging current. I had some apprehension about meeting tows on the lower river that were more than twice the size of those we had become familiar with north of the locks. And then there were the ocean-going tankers that dwarfed even the largest tows. I was concerned about these, but I knew we could handle them. It was the vast emptiness of the lower river that frightened me. As you follow the river through southern Missouri the towns along the river become fewer and spread farther apart. This progression goes hand in hand with the disappearance of high ground along the river. Memphis is the last high ground before you enter into the Delta. With the exception of Helena and Greenville, there are 288 miles of sparsely inhabited river and wilderness between Memphis and Vicksburg. On the west side of the river much of that distance is bordered by impenetrable swamp. There are no marinas. For mile after mile there are no roads along the shore. My fear was that we would be mugged, even murdered in this desolate region of the river. Recent viewings of the films Deliverance and White River only fanned the flames of my fear. I had read stories of river pirates and of other boaters robbed and murdered on the lower Mississippi. At work, in the weeks before we left, my friend Kurt would hum or whistle the theme from Deliverance periodically -- funny. Even the river's history rose up to haunt me, for nowhere in this nation in either time or place was there ever a more lawless, debauched, God-forsaken region of the country than the lower Mississippi.

My fear was irrational. We'd traveled the region by automobile and I knew we had little to be concerned about. If there were river pirates waiting to rob and murder hapless boaters on the lower Mississippi, we didn't encounter them. But I did feel relieved when we rounded the bend and came in sight of the bridge at Vicksburg. The river valley would be less empty from there on to the Gulf. Throughout our entire trip from the Headwaters to the Gulf, we experienced trouble with people only twice: in Anoka where we were tormented by the spoiled brats of the upper middle class (Episode 1 Chapter 6), and again in Sartel where we were tormented by the spoiled brats of the filthy rich (Episode 1 Chapter 5).

Few recreational boaters travel the lower Mississippi. Consequently, services along the river are sparse -- there are marinas at Memphis, Greenville, New Orleans and Venice, and there are additional fuel stops at Kimswick, Cape Girardeau and Vicksburg. That's it; seven fuel stops in 1200 miles of river. In Convent LA you can stop at Weber Marine and carry gas cans over the levee to a nearby gas station. In Cape Girardeau and Vicksburg you must call a day ahead to arrange to have the fuel trucked down to the river. Our pontoon boat had a nine gallon gas tank. Last summer we easily traveled the upper river by taking along four gas cans. For this trip we purchased seven additional gas cans to bring our total fuel capacity to 85 gallons -- still not enough to make it between all the stops. We'd have to carry gas cans into town or spend a few days floating with the current. After we loaded all eleven gas cans on the boat, Isaac and I took one look at our charcoal grill and decided to leave that at home. We felt like a floating bomb.

We left then on May 25th. Isaac had to take off a few days early from school, and we owe a big thank you to his teachers and the staff at Bishop Duborg High School who went out of their way to give him his year-end exams early. I wanted to leave as soon as we could in order to take advantage of high water in the river. High water meant a stronger current which would help increase our overall fuel efficiency, and although the current itself can be dangerous, I'd much rather deal with the faster water than the threat of hitting a submerged obstacle in low water. The bottom of the river can be full of surprises; everything from rock walls called wing dikes to sunken barges and water-logged trees. Constant vigilance is required to pilot a small craft safely down the Mississippi. You must be able to read the water in front of you and know what's on the bottom by the changing appearance of the water's surface. As it rolls over and past obstacles the river's surface will boil or raise up. Eddys open and close; the size of the waves can quickly change as the depth changes. Fortunately, our boat was in good hands. Isaac is a skilled river pilot. His ability to read the river is far superior to my own and frankly, never in error. It's a bit uncanny the way he knows where the river will be shallow or deep, where a wing dike ends, or exactly where the current will carry us.

As I had hoped the river was full, but not flooded. Conditions were ideal. Further on the Ohio would be running high and we did encounter flood stage conditions along parts of the river, especially in Arkansas. Our old pontoon boat was still holding together, although the deck was buckled up in the back and there were a few soft spots here and there. Patrick (our mechanic) had given the engine one final tune-up. This would be a trip of no return for the boat. There was no way we could cost effectively bring it back up river and it's condition was poor enough that a deck replacement and general re-build was in order by the end of the season. Our plan was to sell it down south and even abandon it for salvage if necessary.

The weather was perfect and we left John's Boat Harbor in high spirits. The river above Alton is particularly lovely. The bluffs on the Illinois side of the river between Grafton and Alton are some of the most visually attractive along the entire river. Within hours of our departure we completed two milestones that we've waited years for. We passed through locks 26 and 27 at Alton and Granite City respectively. The Granite City lock is the last of the twenty nine locks on the Mississippi. We'd finally gone through all the locks on the Mississippi. A few miles further down river and we came to the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers. For river rats like ourselves sitting in a boat at the point where the two greatest rivers in North America merge is close to a spiritual experience. The Corps of Engineers divide the Mississippi into three sections, headwaters (Itasca to Minneapolis), the upper river (Minneapolis to Cairo), and the lower river (Cairo to the Gulf). There's a geological reason for their choosing Cairo as the beginning of the lower river, but it doesn't feel quite right. It seems to give more importance to the Ohio confluence than the Missouri confluence. Cairo is where the Mississippi has finally come down off the Ozark escarpment on the west and the hills of the Shawnee on the East: only sporadic bluffs now overlook the river valley in Kentucky and Tennessee. Below Cairo the valley floor has been reached. It's a clear and obvious division and it makes sense that the lower river begin here. But my more romantic sensibilities would prefer to divide the river at St. Louis and the Missouri confluence.

The river directly below St. Louis is choked with industry. There are barges and tows everywhere including huge rafts of barges anchored right in the middle of the river. It can be a frightening place for a small craft. I kept a watchful eye open as Isaac maneuvered us through this obstacle course. By the time we cleared the city it was already late afternoon. We pulled into the mouth of Fountain Creek at river mile 156 just above Herculaneum to fix dinner and spend our first night back on the river.