Here I am. At the end once again. This part is always surreal. I’m writing this final installment from the comfort of home. Home is good for reflection. Luckily, I get to live in this story a bit longer with you as I type this out. I’m going to make sure and savor every last minute of this.

We set out to paddle the entire Mississippi River. After 10 states, 95 days, 2,295 miles, and one immeasurably sore butt; our journey has come to an end… * record scratches * WAY too sentimental. Let’s jump into the good stuff before y’all are bored to death…

Reader Questions!

– How is the body holding up?

Honestly, only one MAJOR complaint from this trip. Ass pain. I didn’t think your rear end could experience this level of discomfort. Maybe a different seat would help? Who knows… it’s over now.

Other minor complaints: 1. Legs getting heat rash due to constant sun blasting. 2. Bottoms of the feet cracking to the point of developing open sores due to going from wet to dry on an hourly basis. 3. Toe nails turning red? for some reason due to the river mud?

What’s crazy to me, is that everything listed above are the parts of the body I don’t really use. I thought it would be the total opposite. Back pain, shoulder issues, arm soreness, hand blisters, etc. There is basically none of that. Don’t get me wrong, you feel something in the arms after paddling 55 miles in one day, but it is far less than I expected.

Long story short: time to sit in a super comfy chair.

– Any crazy wildlife experiences?

This was a common question that I specifically saved until the end. Here is a highlight reel of my wildlife encounters during the entire journey:

– Spot 3 black bears swimming near the bank of the river.

– Watch a bald eagle attacking a vulture mid-flight.

– The most bald eagles seen in one day is probably around 80.

– The otters are very defensive and frequently grunt at me.

– Watch a squirrel swim clear across the entire river. Appears to pass out as soon as it hits the bank.

– Some type of fish always transforms into a land/water mine around dusk. The second you get right over them, they lose their mind.

– 2 huge carp (type of fish) jump right over the front of my boat. They’ve been known to injure paddlers. There is one story from this year of someone getting hit in the eye and suffering a detached retina.

– A family of raccoons terrorize our campsite for an entire night in a city park pavilion. They don’t even bother to run when we try to get them away from our bags.

– A pelican shits on me while flying over.

– I see a coyote on the river bank.

– A mullet (type of fish, yes that’s the real name) jumps straight into my boat, right in-between my legs, and proceeds to absolutely freak out.

– I see a total of 12 alligators on the river. The scariest encounter is accidentally hitting one with my paddle. It was not happy.

Town Awards!

Arkansas: Helena, AR (population 8,462)

Great pork chop. Only town in Arkansas on the river. The End.

Mississippi: Basically a three-way tie between Greenville, Vicksburg, and Natchez. But the winner goes to… Greenville, MS! (population 27,015)

I don’t think many paddlers come here. It requires a 5 mile backtrack, paddling up a different channel to reach downtown. This is not enjoyable. We finally reach the downtown boat ramp and quickly realize that Greenville has seen better days. A bit further, we spot some boats tied up at a possible marina. I look it up on the map and it is labeled as the “Greenville Yacht Club.” We paddle over to inspect. There appear to be (maybe) 3 active members of this “yacht” club. They have pontoon boats. The few boats that could possibly fall under the “yacht” category appear to be inhabited by spiders and the ghosts of redneck pirates. We quickly meet the club’s “president” and he calls the club’s “commodore” to confirm that we can dock there for the night. We get the official approval from the powers that be. This “temporary yacht club membership” status permits us access to the bar in the “clubhouse.” We have a wonderful time with the president and the bartender.

The first signs of strangeness occur as we are closing out. The bartender asks where we are staying tonight. We say there is a cheap hotel just across the street. They seem to nod and approve of the hotel. They then ask how we are getting there. We are more than a little confused. I say “…weee will walk over there since it’s just across the street?” Our new friends (both white, for reference) look stunned and let us know that it’s not safe. Broad daylight, leaving a “yacht club”, to cross the street, to a hotel. I personally brush it off as a possible pinch of racism. Across the street we go.

We get to the hotel lobby to check in with two very friendly ladies (both black, for reference). They ask for our vehicle make/model/tag. We inform them that we are paddling the entire Mississippi River. This probably makes the top 10 moments for people being surprised/confused at the sound of our adventure. After the excitement dies down, they have this “…wait a minute” look on their faces. “So if you don’t have a car, how did you get here?” We nonchalantly say “we just crossed the street from the yacht club.” Here comes that stunned/disapproving look again followed by a very stern safety speech. I quickly erase any previous racism assumptions. My apologies to the lovely yacht club folks.

Obviously, we ignore any and all advice about exploration avoidance. For reference, Greenville is around 82% black. You can imagine the looks we get at the corner store with our beards, sandals, and paddling clothes… We lean into it. We’ll chat it up with anyone that is willing. We ask if there are any bars in town. The most common response is “For y’all? The only spot is the sports bar.” Fair enough. That night, we head that direction. The sports bar is closed. It’s Friday night; this town is weird. However, two doors down, there is a flashing open sign barely shining through a blacked out tinted window. I open the super sketchy front door and say “After you, Boo Boo.”

We immediately realize that we have strolled into an all-black dance/night club. The kicker? It’s early and the party hasn’t started yet. Dead quiet with the lights all the way up. Just a group of regulars watching a fight on TV. If there had been a record playing, it would have instantly screeched to a halt. We do what we always do: lean into it. Ordering drinks seems to prove that we aren’t cops. This is good. Friends are quickly made with the owner and everyone there. At some point, the first big group of ladies walk in, dressed to the nines, for their Friday night at the club. The owner slowly stands up from our table and heads toward the dance floor. Still no music and only bright white lights at this point. He pulls out a ladder and broom from the corner. He slowly climbs the ladder in the middle of the dance floor, reaches the broom stick in the air, and apparently hits the button labeled “party” in the rafters. Instantly, the white lights are off, crazy lasers are on, and the bass coming from the speakers takes your breath away.

The party has started. One hiccup though… they have an issue playing music in the DJ booth. I walk over to the owner and let him know that “I know a thing or two” and might be able to help. He tells me to go for it. After a few minutes, I successfully get it operational. The ladies (eager to dance) cheer. The first song ends as I’m about to walk out of the booth. For a moment, there is an awkward silence and everyone looks toward me. I quickly ask the owner if he wants me to put something on. He gives me this “yeah and make it snappy” gesture. As rapidly as my fingers will type, I queue up “Back That Azz Up” by Juvenile. The dance floor erupts into a twerking frenzy. I’ve been preparing for this moment my entire life. I end up DJ’ing in the booth all night while Boo Boo works the crowd.

The next morning: best hashbrowns I’ve ever had in my life. We survive Greenville. I’ll never forget you, Greenville.

Louisiana: lot’s of great stops, but Empire, LA takes the king cake! (population 974)

We arrive after dark and bushwhack our way through the woods to reach the top of the levee and road to access town. It’s very cold for shorts and wet sandals. We walk toward the only bar in town with the (apparently) invincible mosquitoes. As we enter, there is a moment of temporary surprise because the first person we see is dressed as a werewolf. “Oh yeah! It’s Halloween night!” Everyone welcomes us with open arms, quicker than usual. They have a bayou buffet set up with with fresh oysters, grilled redfish that was caught that day, fresh crab, etc. They encourage us to eat as much as we can in their thick Cajun accents. The DJ fires up the party. I guess we are dressed up as “Mississippi River paddlers?” Wonderful time. After the party wraps up, our dear new friends arrange for us to stay in a mobile home (all to ourselves) that night. The show “Cops” lulls us to sleep with swampy Spanish moss dangling in the trees outside. A true bayou experience.

River Rambling Roundup!

– As previously mentioned, we frequently request to sleep behind the local bar after they close. One particular night, we come across the perfect spot. The internet says that they close early, they have a covered downstairs patio that isn’t ever used, and the owner is all about our trip. Approval is granted. Things are winding down and they are about to close so I head to the patio. My mattress is blown up, I’m in my “pajamas”, I’m snuggled up in my sleeping bag, and all is quiet. Until… the staff, owner, and regulars decide that it’s time to absolutely throw down after close. All of the sudden, speakers that weren’t on prior to this moment are blasting AC/DC directly over my head. Lord knows I’m not going up those stairs to ask them to turn it down. On this night… it is what it is.

– The gas stations of southern Louisiana, do NOT play around. In Morganza, LA we get out of the river to sneak through some private land and jump over a couple fences to reach a very unassuming gas station. No expectations. I end up eating some of the best crawfish etouffee I’ve ever had in my life. We’re talking professionally plated with house made french bread and all. If wasn’t already heaven on earth for us, we try all of the daiquiris they have spinning on the wall. We sneak back to the river, through that private land, grinning ear to ear.

– We are pulling up to the beach in Plaquemine, LA to call it a day and hopefully find a hot meal. We are greeted on this beach by a teenager in full Wolverine/X-Men costume. For reference, we’re over a week away from Halloween. He sternly lets us know that paddling the river is illegal. (Definitely what the parents say around here to keep their kids out of the river). We thank him for the important info, lock up our boats, and head for the bar: Beer Belly’s. It’s bingo night. If you ever get the chance to hear someone with an incredibly thick Cajun accent call bingo in a bar, I highly recommend it. One of the regulars allows us to sleep in a house (or the frame of one at least) that he has just started building. Early that morning, I wake up to a deflating air mattress from a nail I didn’t notice. Hey… you win some, you lose some.

– We legit meet two of the cast members of the hit show “Swamp People.” Trapper Joe and Trigger Tommy. It was just us four in this middle-of-nowhere, bayou bar. They were blown away by our trip and lots of stories were told.

– One day, I’m paddling along, minding my own business, while passing an oil refinery. All of the sudden, this guy runs out and starts yelling at me. The first sentence out of his mouth is “Security, the police, and the coast guard have been notified!” I respond with a delayed and very confused “Notified of what?” He spouts off something about federal trespassing because of my proximity to the refinery. Keep in mind, I’m just paddling down the river. I haven’t touched land, dock, or any kind of structure. I have passed right beside COUNTLESS facilities just like this one and chatted it up with numerous people working on the same types of docks. He says “well THIS is a refinery.” I say “Clearly. I’ve paddled past countless refineries, and talked to plenty of people.” He responds with a blank/angry stare. I follow up with an apology (wish I hadn’t due to the aggression) and keep trucking.

A mile down river, there are two security guards standing on a dock. For reference, all of theses docks are 20’ish feet above the water level (where I am) due to potential flooding. They are waving and telling me to paddle toward them. I oblige. I open with a sarcastic “how about this incredible weather?” They inform me that they need my name and ID so that they can pass along the information to the coast guard for the federal trespassing charges. I respond with “I certainly haven’t trespassed yet; but wouldn’t I be trespassing if I get on the dock with you?” They slowly/reluctantly agree. I say “you’re welcome to grab a boat and come to me.” They look at each other, channel their inner laziness, and decide that I can just inform them of my name. I quickly respond “Stephen Jackson” and go about my merry way.

– For my final “River Rambling” of this journey, I’ll leave you with our final day. We wake up in our swamp mobile home after the Halloween party. Uncle Ralph gives us a ride back to the boats. It’s a beautiful day until a horrendous headwind kicks up. We’re just trying to finish this thing and we’re watching a snail smoke us on the bank. It’s almost comical at this point. Eventually, our end point (Venice, LA) is in sight. We cross the river’s imaginary ending line and high five each other on a great adventure. We paddle 2 more miles to our true final destination: CrawGator’s Bar in Venice Marina. (The logo is a crawfish with an alligator tail… iconic.) We turn a corner and there it is… 6 of our loveliest friends are there cheering us on. Then excitement starts coming from the patio of the bar. One of the best grand finales we’ve ever had on any of these trips. We jump out, hug each other, and then hug everyone. Cold beverages from the bar are quickly in hand.

When we leave, I insist that we stop by the Halloween party bar (20 mintues up the road) for a victory lap to let all the regulars know that we made it. We walk into surprised cheering, thank everyone again for their hospitality, and show off Uncle Ralph’s incredible bayou accent. On to New Orleans to celebrate with our friends to put a bow on this amazing adventure.

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NOTE: Before I wrap this up, I want to say that I’ll be posting an “appendix?” for this trip. I’ve never done this for any of the other adventures, but when I started typing this installment, I realized I was getting far too nerdy compared to my normal “writings.” I nearly deleted 1,200 words right here, but thought “why not put it out there if some people might be interested.” SO, if you want to nerd out and discover a bit more about this trip (other than the ridiculous/silly stories), check out the next blog. (Sneak peak: my favorite part is ranking whether I think hiking, biking, or paddling is better.)

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The end. Goosebumps set in while I’m fully coming to terms with that. Another great chapter. 15 years of this. I started with the Appalachian Trail in 2010. That adventure changed my entire life, world view, and gave me the immense faith in humanity that I still carry to this day. Say what you want in these divided times, but I’ve witnessed far too much of the “good” in far too many “types” of people to totally discredit anyone… It’s a badass world out there, full of so many amazing cultures. Learn from it. Enjoy it.

I always sign off these silly chronicles with the phrase “do what you love.” I want to clarify. That doesn’t mean I’m encouraging you to do one of these ridiculous/long journeys. (However, if you want to, please let me know.) I’m just encouraging that you don’t let your passions totally fall to the wayside. Find something that you love, and set aside a little time for it in these chaotic lives of ours. It’s easier than ever to get distracted… but it’s incredibly rewarding to spend even a small amount of time with something/someone that you truly love.

So until next time… (y’all give me a damn minute to catch my breath before you start asking)

Do what you love.

T-FUNK