Before I get to “today’s” post, I wanted to let you all know, I’m three days behind in my blog. I keep thinking that I’m going to start catching up with a few two-a-day posts, but either something gets in the way or the day on the water is too long. So, all you Sallies out there that are upset with my delinquency, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I refuse to combine days or skip a day or shorten my typical post just to get up to date. But I really do want to get back to current time, and I also want to get that elusive day 7 epic out there. So relax and keep with me.

Also, thanks Jeff Van Meter for the GoFundMe idea, but it’s not necessary. I don’t get a chance to keep real time with all the comments either, but I appreciate your support and encouragement; any financial help offered will likely go to some anti-piracy organization, or maybe a beautify Brainerd charity.

Now – today’s theme word: RECONCILIATION. Mark and I talked about the late day breakdown yesterday. “You have no idea what you’re doing” and “we have no business being out here” and “you’re a (insert profanity here) idiot” aren’t things I thought I’d be hearing from him. I realize that the issue really was that we didn’t have a solid plan or expectation going into the day, and that should never be the case. “We have 40 miles to Alma and two days to get there” is not a sufficient plan. Also, Mark needs to stay fueled, and if the fuel that I provided doesn’t work for him, then we’ll need to get that fixed.

At the bar last night, we looked at the Army Corps of Engineers maps and determined we still had 8.5 miles of Lake Pepin to complete followed by another 12 miles of river to Lock & Dam #4 and our hotel in Alma, WI. Looking at the weather forecast, we were expecting similar wind conditions picking up later in the morning. So we got on the water at 7am to beat the wind and hoped to be in Alma by 4pm. Unfortunately, the wind was an earlier riser than us and we were greeted with Pepin’s defense minutes into our day.

I was really starting to hate Pepin. I also knew that Mark and I would be spending more time alone with our thoughts today, because it’s hard to stay side by side and have a conversation when you’re splashing in the surf and the wind is whistling through the bungees.

Speaking of wind whistles, for the past two days I’ve had a minor issue with my main air intake manifold. Maybe I got a little of the cold that Christin had lingering, or maybe it’s finally hot and dry enough that my air intake manifold has been affected. I typically breath through my nose to keep from getting more dehydrated, and to keep from generally looking like a mouth breathing moron, but the crusty deposits have been affecting my intake efficiency. I’m hoping this will soon pass or I can find a suitable remedy, until then there may be some requisite culling of deposits in the air intake manifold.

I’ve also noticed I can’t seem to get the weeks of grime out from under my fingernails and toenails. I think I’ve showered at least 6 times in 21 days, but I’m sure I still have mud from Bemidji to Lake City, and all places in between captured.

I thought the bluffs rising over the lake had a real Jurassic Park feeling. It was like we were on the ocean traveling to some very desolate and forbidden land. I wondered whether any of this landscape was brought about by volcanoes, and whether there was some dormant volcano that was due to unload, and like some modern day Pompeii I would be locked in time under tons of ash.

Then, in my lonesome time forging through the Lake Pepin challenge, I imagined some microscopic archeologists doing a dig around my fingertips. Picture a microscopic Laura Dern as the nubile junior archeologist making discoveries of the layers of sediment under my thumb nail. Then a microscopic Sam Neill explaining to her the differences from the Bemidji era, to the Palisade era, to the Aitkin era, to the Brainerd era. Then microscopic Laura Dern travels to the index finger and wonders aloud about the different superficial layer encrusted here that is different from the thumbnail. Microscopic Sam Neill says, “that’s from the Mucousic era” let’s move on. I better work on getting my nails clean before I get too carried away with this theme.

As we approached halfway in our Lake Pepin crossing, we came upon a couple of kite surfers that were fun to watch. They just kept crossing from shore to shore at about 10 times the pace that we were moving. One of them saw us coming and quickly donned his equipment to zoom out and say hello, followed by the typical question: “where you headed?” Like usual, he seemed impressed and excited for our journey.

5 hours after starting our Pepin crossing day two, we were finally out of the lake and stopping for a proper lunch in Wabasha. We each got turkey sandwiches, chips and sodas. Mark was happy to have “real” food for lunch, though he only ate half his sandwich, saving the rest for later.

We came into Alma around 3:30 in the afternoon, but now we had a dilemma (not a conundrum Shootman): the hotel was before the lock, but far from a boat ramp. We had to decide whether to portage over the steep rocky bank (and subsequent railroad tracks), or find a boat launch that may be a long distance away. Mark refused to consider the portage, and he questioned my choice of hotels “we’re not staying there” was his comment when we came upon it. He went straight on to lock through the dam with barely a pause to discuss. “How did you not check the boat access relative to the hotel?” was his only discussion, again questioning my janky planning. Was hangry Mark back? Maybe he should’ve eaten his whole sandwich? So, we were greeted by Trevor who dropped us ropes and opened the gates at the lock.

After we went through the lock, we didn’t find any boat launch or simple portage downstream. Mark said we should return to the Alma marina that we passed, 1.7 miles before the dam. We had a brief discussion about the relatively far distance to travel back, then back again to the hotel, but ultimately we saw Trevor again who didn’t seem too surprised by our return to lock back through the other direction.

We talked with Chris at the Alma Marina who gave us permission to lock our boats up there for the night. He even gave Mark two beers upon our arrival. Then, while we waited for Sarah and her fiancé Jacob to pick us up, a couple of avid paddlers and Coast Guard auxiliary members (Simon and Sue) introduced themselves and talked with us while we waited.

When Sarah arrived, miraculously, we had just enough space in her car for all of our gear and two more humans. We checked into the Burlington Hotel and Bar, which was historic, quaint and relatively vacant. The guys each got a cold Moosehead while we unloaded and moved stuff to the rooms. Sarah fell in love with the hotel, the proprietor Jennifer was friendly and helpful, and there were cats lounging on the bar. It would be hard to not enjoy this place; unfortunately our stay would be short.

We walked down the street to have burgers at the Dam View Bar. Feeling perpetually starved, we also got fried cheese curds, mac-n-cheese bites, and tater logs, which were essentially deep fried mashed potatoes. I thought “tater log” might be a good nickname for Jacob for the weekend, but for some reason I didn’t act on that. Finally, we had a game of cribbage where me and Tater Log beat Mark and Sarah; it’s the first win I’ve had since day 2 with Chad, I suppose I have Tater Log to thank.

In honor of my lovely daughter Sarah, I’m going to focus today’s song on the brighter parts that arose at the end of the day. And I know my friend Martuz will like this selection: Sara Smile by Hall & Oates. I got a lot of enjoyment from your smiling, Sarah!