Today’s word:PREDESTINATION. It seemed very normal and expected in the introduction of Mark Lecy to the water today; and today’s happenings, from loading up to the overnight stop, seemed to be as they should be. Things just felt “right”, though it was all new.

Firstly, Mark Lecy is a dear friend from Valparaiso University. He’s the first guy I remember meeting at a fraternity house when we were both freshmen. I met him playing a dice game at the bar where I thought he was an obnoxious showboat. He was self assured, loud, comical, fun loving in a somewhat over the top way. In many ways he was me. I hated him.

He was like corn casserole. Every year after thanksgiving dinner, people talk about their favorite dish. In my family, a perennial favorite is corn casserole; it seems that everyone can’t get enough of it. I never even let it close to my plate. It’s a dishonor to corn. Or maybe just because everyone else likes it so much that I choose to snub it. That’s how I felt about Mark Lecy. I’m sure you all know a Mark Lecy: everyone likes him, he’s great to be around, he’s positive and optimistic, he plays guitar, he windsurfs, he skis, he takes his family on fabulous adventures, he’s above average height… you want to be Mark Lecy, but you can’t. (I could also substitute my friend Nels Mitchel for Mark Lecy in this blog, and not much would change.)

I don’t know exactly when I came to appreciate and like hanging around Lecy. At some point I suppose I recognized that 99% approval rating probably means I’m missing something. I now can’t imagine all the fun memories I would’ve forsaken without him as a friend. Lecy is with me the next 9 days, then he’ll be back for a reprise on the Memphis to Nawlins home stretch. But I still won’t eat corn casserole.

Shortly after getting underway, Mark figured out the mechanics to maneuver the boat. The boat is heavy and made for two people, so all of us have struggled in the early period to get the feel of it. After he settled in, we were greeted with calm water, cool temperatures, and no real boat traffic. We put in just downstream of Lock &Dam #2, which wasn’t the original plan but seemed prudent as it would be nearly noon before we got underway. From there, we had no definitive destination.

Things were different with Mark; he brought a waterproof speaker and we listened to yacht rock as we peddled away. After an hour or so, he tuned in a rare Wednesday afternoon Cubs game. The reception checked out a few times, but it was solid for the last few innings; we sang “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” in the middle of the seventh, and the Cubs beat the Brewers 2-1 with a go ahead run in the bottom of the 8th and a 4 out save from their closer. We had a small celebration and talked of similarly listening to playoff games in October south of Memphis. This seemed like the way to travel with Mark as we entered a more civilized Mississippi River area. It was relaxing, placid, serene.

The excitement of the day came with lock & dam #3: our first passage through the system that tamed the Mississippi for commercial purposes. The dams make sure there’s always 9 feet of water for the big commercial barges to travel up and down the river, but they can’t impede pleasure boaters or the occasional insane kayakers. I radioed ahead and the friendly voice told me to just pull the chain when we arrive and they’ll lock us through. The whole process was simple and efficient; it was somewhat exciting, but only took a few minutes and afterwards I thought it wasn’t such a big deal. There was a lot of chalked “graffiti” on the lock walls where pleasure boaters awaited their drop to the lower level: Harry loves Carrie, Bannoffee was here, Trump Eats below the water line… And below the water line the concrete wall was coated with a gooey dark green-black slime. A mere brush of this surface left a gooey coating on extremities and limbs. After encountering the slime first hand (or right forearm more precisely) I tried to joust the wall away with my paddle.

After the dam, we were expecting to find Commissary Point, where the state of Minnesota had established a public camp site. We didn’t find it. We saw some places that looked like had recent stealth camping from others, but we didn’t want to risk it. Mark spied some cabins on the Wisconsin side of the river and started out to check them out. I was against the idea and was prepared for stealth camp somewhere, but when we pulled up we realized we were in Hager City,WI.

In the serendipitous feeling of the day, this seemed to make sense: let’s settle down at 5pm in Hager City. Mark called and secured cabin #4, which was unlocked and ready for us. A shower preceded some freeze dried chili and a game of cribbage as we awaited the super blue moon. This was the bougie excursion that maybe I should expect with Mark: we relax, take the day as it comes, and don’t overlook the value of a shower and a mattress. It wasn’t the Shangri La, but it wasn’t stealth camping on the ground with mosquitoes.

We saw a few bald eagles today. Mark was pretty excited about the first one, but then I told him I’ve seen at least ten every day so far. There’s an estimated 7,900 mating pairs of bald eagles in Minnesota; I think I’ve seen 7,800. I’ve seen them catch fish, catch a snake, fight with crows, fight with other eagles, and be regular. I’m kinda done with the whole eagle thing.

I thought about putting this song in one of the days with Chad – it seemed he was often up over his ankles in river bank goo in the early days. But, this lock goo takes goo to a whole new level, this is more like a living organism than that dead crap/mud under the water surface. So, in homage to the lock #3 wall goo: Medicated Goo by Traffic with 19 year old Stevie Windwood on the Hammond organ.