We’ve officially made it back to the south. The tea is sweet and the “bless your hearts” are flowing. We’re currently in the heart of the Mississippi Delta region. Birthplace of the blues and big ol’ catfish. 1,758 miles complete, 537 miles to go to reach The Gulf.

Let’s kick this installment off with some…

Reader Questions!

Do you take your boats with you into town? Do you stash supplies when you stop somewhere or drag them to all the places you go when you’re off the river?

The boats are always left behind. I tote around a couple bike locks that are used to lock to docks, power poles, street signs, etc. Most everything I have is in a backpack that I can take with me into town. So a thief would need a good set of bolt cutters (and silent bystanders while they are making a scene with the bolt cutters) to run off with the boat. In the event that was to happen, I’ve got a GPS tracker hidden under the canoe seat. I’ve got a particular set of skills and I will find you…

It’s a great system, but the bike lock has backfired on me. One day, I get back to the canoe, and the key isn’t working. The lock has seized up. I walk the half mile back to a gas station to buy some WD-40. No luck. I find an auto repair shop and ask to borrow some bolt cutters. Fortunately, they let a total stranger borrow their bolt cutters to go “cut a lock.” Don’t get any ideas, thieves.

Any bug bites?

Y’all, the mosquitoes are no joke out here. Minnesota is the worst. We’re talking 150 trying to land on you in any given moment. Best (worst) mosquito story: one lands on my eyeball. I instinctively close my eye and smack it. It perishes under my closed eyelid. Apparently, this mosquito has already taken plenty of blood from me (or someone/something else). My vision turns a shade of red. After some rubbing, the mosquito/stranger blood makes it to the corner of my eye in the form of a single tear.

I’ve eaten breakfast and brushed my teeth in the worst of public park bathrooms to escape these terrorists while camping.

The only other pest bites have been courtesy of leeches. One day I look down at a small cut on my foot. It looks weird. Upon closer inspection, there are 6 tiny leeches feasting on it. Nightmare fuel.

Thank y’all for the questions. There will be one more blog for this adventure, so keep them coming!

Next, on to my personally favorite section. It’s time for…

Town Awards!

Illinois: Grafton (population 772)

This day is all over the place. It kicks off by arriving at a dam at the worst possible time: right as a barge is pulling up. They have priority, so the 2 hour wait begins. Right after (finally) getting through the dam, the biggest storm we’ve had so far on the river hits. I run up the bank to avoid the lightning. The weather eventually clears, but morale is low.

THEN, a wave runner pulls up to me. She informs me that Boo Boo is partying with them and to grab the ski rope so she can pull me over to them. I oblige. We pull up to 6 yachts tied up with each other and a Jell-O shot is immediately tossed to me. Morale is on the rise. After a few hours of this, everyone says it’s time to head back to the marina in Grafton (just around the bend). We head that direction and tie up behind one of our new friend’s yachts.

After getting a shower at the marina (much needed) the town instantly wows us. Their slogan is “Grafton: The Key West Of The Midwest.” Tons of fully outdoor beach-vibe bars. I get to watch Auburn football and the band is killing at the rooftop bar overlooking the river. The day caps off with our friend Dennis allowing us to sleep on his yacht. Heaven.

Missouri: St. Genevieve (population 5,025)

There must be a pattern to miserable days ending well. After 45 long miles of paddling in the rain, we get to the access point for St Genevieve. I tie up my boat behind an abandoned barge. A massive beaver yells at me for invading its space. We crawl up a wet rock jumble to begin a 200 yard bushwhack through mosquito hell. After getting to a dirt road, it’s a 2 mile walk into town. Morale is low.

THEN, we get to the bar in town. Food is great, drinks are cold, and everyone is nice. Lacey, the bartender, introduces us to every single customer and lets them know what we are doing. After all the greetings, we ask her where we might get away with stealth camping in town. She says “Let me call the owner.” 15 minutes later, our guardian angel (the owner, Brock) walks in.

We’re hanging out having a great time. He tells us that he also owns the boutique hotel that’s a block away (The Audubon) and he is willing to put us up for the night. We get to tour his new speakeasy on the way to the hotel. Upon arriving to the hotel, he realizes that the only vacant room is the biggest suite. He gives us the key. Before heading out he lets us know that he’s set up an interview for us in the morning with the local paper. We sleep like kings, do the interview in the morning, and later find out that we make the front page. We walk the 2 miles back to the boats grinning ear to ear (as you can see in the picture).

Honorable Mention: Hannibal, MO

This is Mark Twain’s hometown and where The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn take place. I’ve listened to a lot of Mark Twain on the river. Seeing the sights (like Tom Sawyer’s house which has been preserved) is pretty neat.

Kentucky: Wickliffe (population 652)

I had a burrito. It was an average burrito. The burrito cost $20. That is not an appropriate price for an average burrito. End of review. (Wickliffe is the only town on the river in Kentucky, sooo… it wins.)

Tennessee: Memphis (population 610,919)

We make it just 1 mile away from Memphis the night before we arrive. We camp on a sandbar with the pyramid in view and the I-40 bridge light show in full effect. We paddle in the following morning and get approval to leave our boats at the Memphis Yacht Club. We tie up and promptly meet a yacht club member that takes us into town. Ironically, we ride in his canoe that he has on a trailer behind his car. We had run out of drinking water the day before, so lots of beverages are immediately consumed with every gulp feeling like a godsend.

We’ve been excited for Memphis for a while now because it’s the closest town on the Mississippi River to our hometown. We have a big crew come out to visit us for the weekend. Fun is had. We go to Raiford’s. If you know, you know. If not, look it up. We see the Peabody ducks, the Silky goats, eat Gus’s fried chicken, and bid our farewells. The best of times.

That’s when things get interesting… we get back to the boats at the yacht club and agree on going to get “one more meal and a beer” before leaving. We make new friends. They inform us that we are going to other bars with them. We oblige. At some point, to-go beers are purchased for a golf cart ride. The golf cart joy-ride ends at the yacht club. A mini-party commences by the boats. Around midnight, I bid more farewell’s and paddle out guided by the bright lights of Memphis. Boo Boo stays for the afterparty. I make it all of 2 miles to a sandbar and crudely set up my tent. Those Memphis lights created a glorious glow in my tent. Until next time, Memphis.

Last, but not least, brace yourself for the…

River Ramblings!

• As I mentioned at the top, we’re back in the south. It’s like we pass through an invisible wall at the Illinois/Kentucky border. After passing through this magical portal, the first person I speak to pulls up to me in a fishing boat. After learning what we are doing, he responds with a “hot damn!” He then makes sure that we are carrying pistols because “folks is crazy out there.” I’ve gotten to where I just say “yes” to avoid the lecture. Before speeding off, he informs me that he caught a “110 pound catfish” the year before. He says “Best believe I sold that sumbitch for $200.” The next “welcome to the south” moment comes from a boat firing off a couple rounds into the air just to scare off some pelicans that appear to be in their way on the river. That’s one way to do it.

• I walk into a bar in Hannibal, Missouri. Pretty quickly, a girl asks what I have in my bag (here comes another man purse joke). I say “pretty much everything I have.” She puts her hands to her mouth, immediately looks sad, and responds with “I’m so sorry. Do you need anything?” I quickly realize that she thinks I’m homeless. Explaining that I live in a tent down by the river and drive a canoe just made things more confusing.

• I paddle past the biggest barge I’ve seen to date: a 42 pack. That’s 42 huge containers being pushed by a single  boat. I’m honored that the captain takes time out of driving this monstrosity of a vessel to pop out and give me a big wave. Then, I hear a yell just behind me over my shoulder. I look back to see two guys on the crew, out on the deck, yelling, giving me a salute by sporadically blasting fire extinguishers into the air. I give them a fist pump with a huge smile on my face.

That’ll do it for now. We’re bound for New Orleans. It’s about to get swampy. I’ll do a final installment after this shindig is complete in 537 miles.

Until then,

Do what you love.

T-FUNK