Today’s word: RECUPERATION

After a mammoth day yesterday, we planned for a pedestrian 20 miles to the Hampton Inn in LaCrosse. Sarah and Jacob were excited for another day on the water, but they let Mr. Mark and me set out on our own in the morning. We would meet up halfway and do some jiggery pokery to get us resituated with Sarah & Jacob on the water with Mark; then a closing “all skate” stretch with the 4 of us together. This would allow us to take turns driving to get Sarah’s car nearly to LaCrosse, and give me a 5 mile break.

But first: A brief addendum to yesterday’s day 22 post (some days with these late night blogs I forget as much as I remember items to include). When we entered lock & dam #7 yesterday, the lock operator on the radio said “the Coast Guard called looking for you.” Me, “The Coast Guard? Did they say what they want?” Response, “No idea; you better give them a call.”

Hmmm… did I break some sort of law? Did the Coast Guard capture the Hwy 6 pirate? Did they want Leechman to help them take on some Mississippi River supervillains? I didn’t even know how to go about calling the Coast Guard, “Hi, Coast Guard? It’s Mississippi Matt returning your call…” Then, as we entered the lock, a loud voice rang from above – “Hello! How are you guys doing?” It was Simon and Susan we met at the Alma Marina from the Auxiliary Coast Guard. They came to check on us and gave me a gift of some reflective stickers for our paddles. It was really cool to have a couple new river friends watching out for us and wishing us well – thanks both, now I feel like Leechman’s weapon will look more impressive with a blinding flash of silver as I strike at my foes – ZZWAPPP! ZAPPOW!

Now, on to day 23… We had a traditional Riverquest breakfast of French precious coffee and instant oatmeal as we broke camp. We were efficient in loading and we quickly made our way to the boats. With beautiful weather and a short day ahead after a fabulous evening, we were all in good spirits, but eager to get to LaCrosse.

We set off on a calm morning. I felt good though I was coming off of a big day; Mark said that’s due to the steroids. He believes that my insulin is actually some blend of performance enhancing drugs. He doesn’t think I could be performing like this for 3+ weeks without some form of metabolic assistance; and he doesn’t buy the Leechman superpower story.

At mid-day we pulled into a small boat launch in Dakota, MN for a lunch and to swap me out for Jacob & Sarah. My future son-in-law thought to buy Jimmy John’s and fresh Gatorade! (Maybe he’s not deserving of the Tater Log moniker after all?) We enjoyed a few passing trains with our sandwiches, and I nearly sat in poison ivy. Mark told us of a time when his airline pilot brother had an unfortunate encounter with poison ivy around his discharge port and he couldn’t sit in the cockpit for 3 weeks. Yikes – this is another risk that I never thought could send me home. Mental note: remember Brett’s butt story.

Mark, Sarah and Jacob paddled on for five miles after lunch, and I took a break (intended to catch up on blogs!) After talking to Christin and finding our next meeting point, there wasn’t much time to blog: with the two “kids” in Babe the big blue kayak, and Mark solo and unloaded in Ol’ Yeller, 5 miles took just over an hour.

When the 4 of us regrouped after lock & dam #7, and we were preparing to head out when suddenly appeared – another damsel in distress! A group of 3 people was starting to make their way to a waiting pleasure boat. The water was too shallow for the boat to make it to the dock (have I mentioned the low, slow river conditions?), so passengers had to wade in thigh deep water to get to the boat. One woman didn’t want to get wet, so Mr. Mark provided a free ferry service. Chivalry score: Mark 2, Matt 0, Jacob DNS.

The last 5 miles on the water passed quickly with me and Sarah in one boat and Jacob riding with Mark. We shared stories about the night before, discussed suggestions for the blog, and had fun splashing at one another as we cruised along. There were lots of pleasure boaters out, and plenty of stealth camps and day parties at the various sand bars on the islands. It was a beautiful day for everyone to be on the river.

Arriving in LaCrosse, the watercraft launch site was a short stretch up the LaCrosse River, conveniently located next to the LaCrosse homeless camp. I think Mark was again questioning my planning, but the map clearly supported my plan and there was no indication that across the old railroad bridge was where the city of LaCrosse permitted a transient tent village. There were some shady characters lurking about.

The beaching was a pain, through a muddy bank and up a short steep hill. We debated how to manage our gear and overnight storage, deciding to completely empty the boats into Sarah’s car and lock the vessels to some steel cables supporting an electrical tower. Sounds simple enough, but every article off of the boats practically filled the Subaru. The whole process was exhausting and time-consuming.

As we worked a young shirtless man asked me if I had seen his wallet, “Yo, it was a black wallet, it had props numbers, it had my Jimmy hats…” I hadn’t seen it but would look for it as we worked. He returned later to see if we had any food we could sell him; I gave him an unopened Gatorade and declined his $5 offer (which I imagined was dependent on his “lost wallet” anyway).

A couple of characters fished from the bank at the “launch” site, occasionally sneaking glances our way. A few others meandered past eyeing our boats and piles of belongings. Other less homeless looking types also shared the path along the river, some walking and some on bikes, who also gave curious but less licentious looks.

Then two youthful looking characters came by on bikes, more than once. The apparent leader had close cropped, magenta colored hair. He had a small round head and wore a seemingly permanent silent scowl. He was Caucasian but deeply tanned, and above his right eye was a massive butterfly bandage that looked to be covering up an injury caused by a hammer. His comrade was lithe and boisterous on a bike with no seat; in the first minute I saw them he asked two other bike riders, “Hey, you got a spare seat?” I imagine he must pose this question to strangers hundreds of times a day.

The confidence these scrappy lads carried made me feel they were the ring leader and first lieutenant of the LaCrosse homeless mafia. I envisioned their pictures on a poster at the LaCrosse post office: Wanted – Hammer-wound Harry and Seatless Joe Jackson, for general disturbances and myriad minor offenses. What they lacked in brawn, they seemed to make up for in cunning and guile. As they rode past, they slowed to a roll and eyed our boats; I could see the gears turning in their deviant, mallet adjusted minds. There was an empty cardboard apple box nearby that Seatless Joe kicked as Hammer-wound Harry glanced back at me, half smirking. Yes, I thought, everything comes out of the boats and we pray that they’re not on fire when we return tomorrow!

We piled our gear on a luggage cart at the Hampton. Mr. Mark bought us a couple of Moon Man beers from New Glarus, and we spread out in our connecting rooms – the boys watching college football in one while I started a blog with Sarah in the other. Our rest was short-lived as we needed to shower and find dinner and a grocery.

A short drive brought us to Al’s pizza and 4 seats at the bar. We celebrated with beers in our bucket hats. Sarah taught us our new “cinnamon roll handshake” which would be our greeting whenever the 4 of us rejoin forces, which we hope will be occasional. A Toledo “No Spring – Honest Weight” scale by the entrance showed I’m missing 12 pounds, lost somewhere between Lake Itasca and LaCrosse, which meant I should scope 12 pounds of pizza for dinner.

We had lots of laughs at the bar and made brief friendships with Grace and Lydia behind the bar, the latter of which we were somewhat disappointed to learn had neither the “Battle of Waterloo” nor the “Wreck of the Hesperus” tattooed on her back (she’s still young and we were sure she would address that after our LaCrosse departure). Our friendship earned us a free pitcher of beer after we had already finished our “last one” for the night. This would cut into our grocery and my blogging time, but it would be rude to refuse such a generous gift – so blame Lydia for another day of delinquency in posting.

We slept well that night, in A/C each in our own queen-sized bed. We were exhausted after days of battling wind, waves and sun followed by late nights of celebration; we all slept like logs, rocks or other inanimate river obstacles, without much thought of our armada docked outside of Hammer-wound’s dominion. Another memorable and unique Riverquest day.

Today’s music offering was going to happen someday. As we started our drive back to the boats this morning, without request, Sarah had this queued up for us. I’ve declared her the reigning Mississippi Queen (by Mountain); and who couldn’t use more cowbell!