Today’s word: ASSUAGING. After 6 days of winds from the south and heat, the weather turned favorable today. As an old boss of mine used to say whenever oil refining margins were good: it’s time for “makin’ hay while the sun shines” which basically means taking advantage of good conditions. This old adage is different from “makin’ bacon before the sun shines” – see Room #1 on Day 22 for that definition. We aimed for 32 miles today, from lock & dam #9 to #10, for dinner at a brewery in Guttenberg Iowa.

The winds howled most of the night, but the storms missed us. We did end up putting the flys on both tents, but we hardly got a brief sprinkle of rain. We awoke around 6 to the sounds of fishing boats. It seemed every fisherman was racing from the south to pass through the lock to the north. Was this an everyday morning ritual, trying to be first to the lunker above in pool 9, or are they all trying to escape the zombie apocalypse to the south? I didn’t see boats piled high with whole families carting grandfather clocks and rocking chairs, so something apocalyptic seemed unlikely. I guess this is just a typical Wednesday occurrence; at least I think today is Wednesday.

Today the wind blew briskly from the north. Finally, after nearly a whole week of battling against the elements, things were going our way. We were sad to leave our private stealth resort, but we got underway around 8:15 at a leisurely pace. We soon found that without much effort, we were traveling at 5 mph. With 32 miles planned today, this was a welcome data point. We also have come to notice, immediately downstream of the dams, there is a perceptible flow to the river. As we approach the next dam, things seem to widen and slow and feel more lake like, which all makes sense. Starting the day with favorable wind and flow left us giddy.

Though it was a long distance day, we really didn’t “see” much worth mentioning and I have relatively few photos from the travel. I guess we were just too busy making pace. We passed right by Effigy National Monument without even noticing. We passed the saddest looking riverboat casino in Marquette Iowa. And we saw a lot of trains today.

Most of the day the railroad tracks lined both sides of the river. I thought about the lives of the train engineers and conductors. I wondered if they still wear those silly striped hats that stand too tall and stiff. Then I noticed all the graffiti on many train cars. Some of it showed real talent, like some emerging railcat Banksy. But mostly there were just names on cars: Biggie, Duel, Kamikaze, Deuce, Rico… probably youngsters out there trying to get their message out to someone; letting the world know they exist by broadcasting the fact in 4’ high letters on box cars. I guess this is how they silently scream for some attention. Somehow it makes me sad, especially in the contrast of the expansive beautiful river landscape.

I thought of Christin and the kids. I wondered to myself again why I’ve chosen this expedition and in doing so, isolated myself from my favorite people. Like I’ve elected to put myself in prison, or deliberately shun them just to prove I can do so and still survive. I know somehow I need this experience, but I’m usually not exactly sure why. But I’ll see the girls soon, and being melancholy is not a mood I like to foster frequently.

With the cooler weather and heavy clouds, I went hatless most of the day. I’ve felt many days the heat trapped on my head has been stifling my thoughts. Now my head could breathe for a full day, and somehow that seemed to matter.

Toward the end of our morning a fishing boat approached us quickly from downstream, then he slowed and got close; “At first I thought you was a big ‘ol log!“ he shouted to me. “Ha-ha; nope!” I yelled back with a wave. Then he sped away. I’m in a 13’ bright blue boat with a big yellow dry bag on the front. Log? I guess hr was just trying to make conversation. Or maybe I resembled some childhood version of a log if all you had was one of those 4 packs of Crayola crayons.

Later a pontoon boat with two guys slowed as they passed from upstream: “You guys floatin’ the river?!” said the skipper. “Yes” I said, “to New Orleans.” “No way!!! That’s so cool. You guys need anything?” “No; I think we’re good.” As they departed he said, “We’re goin’ down St. Louis. Good luck to you!” Vroooom. As he left, I wondered if the second person aboard was actually alive. He didn’t move or speak in the brief encounter; he just sat propped at the back staring forward under the brim of a baseball cap. I tried to dream up a Weekend at Bernie’s type story, but nothing arose.

After 32 miles, we passed through lock #10 to arrive in Guttenberg. Mark was encouraged to find again that my promise of a town and a beer to end our day would be as promised. We glided slowly along the Iowa bank and quickly came upon a riverside restaurant that unfortunately looked closed. There was a woman burning some brush on the property who confirm that the Fish Shack isn’t open today. “Do you know of anyplace open that we can get some dinner?” She said the bar next door does burgers and pizza. “Do you think we can park our boats on the property while we get dinner?” She said that’d be fine. When we dragged our boats up, we made introductions; then Deb said the owner may open the kitchen if we’re interested. That sounded intriguing, but seemed a little awkward; our minds went to readymade burgers and High Life next door.

We changed into dry clothes behind the stilts supporting the restaurant, then we walked by the restaurant entrance. The owner was there, and we made introductions. Mike looked like he had just awoke from a nap after hobo-ing trains for a few days; or maybe like a sad circus clown without his makeup. He told us that he’s only open Thursday through Sunday; he talked a little about his typical menu, but said the kitchen wasn’t really prepared for much right now. We asked about other restaurant options: “The bar next door does burgers and pizzas.” We asked about food at the brewery. “They do some food trucks over there, but I don’t really talk to the brewery people.” We know that food truck purveyors are the bane of restaurateurs. Mike said, “I can make you some loose-meat sandwiches with beef and pork and some sliced olives, and I have cold Hamms.” Mark said no thanks, and he headed for the bar next door. I lingered a little, telling Mike that we really just wanted a bar with some people and a menu to look over, which was true. Though honestly, I was a little dismayed by my mental image of a “loose-meat” sandwich. Before I followed Mark, Mike told me that he would leave the screened porch restaurant open, we could spread sleeping bags out there, or under the restaurant if we wanted a solid roof over our heads tonight. He said he would be around for another 30 or 45 minutes if I needed anything.

Mark and I walked down Main Street a few blocks, then ducked into the bar for burgers and beers. After my few sips of High Life, I told Mark about the ‘sleep in the restaurant’ offer. Why wouldn’t we do that? Mike seemed like a nice peaceable guy; I don’t think we’d end up in loose meat sandwiches. So I ran back next door to catch Mike just as he was leaving. I asked “Were you serious about that ‘sleep in the restaurant’ offer?” He said, “Absolutely. I know you’re not a crook; but what about your friend?” I told him I can vouch for Mark as a good guy, and we would be over after our burgers.

The beers, burgers, onion rings, sweet potato fries and Cole slaw were all delicious. Then we went back to the Fish Shack. As we unloaded our necessities, Mike returned and Mark made mention of our intended cribbage game. Mike suggested euchre instead and he went to get his partner, Mike returned with Deb, then got us all ice cold Hamms from his antique wooden ice chest. We played euchre and drank Hamms for a few hours.

Deb told a little about her upbringing in North Buena Vista Iowa. Apparently the town of a few hundred people is famous for being the impetus for legalized gambling in Iowa. Father Carl Ruhland of the Immaculate Conception Church in town used to organize a Labor Day weekend festival with 650 kegs of beer sold at $0.25 per plastic cup; they also had “wheel of fortune”, bingo and other gambling games for patrons. The event paid for the running of the local Catholic school every year, raising 10’s of thousands of dollars. Though there was some concern over the profits as Father Ruhland was rumored to have a live in maid and an ‘aquatic car’ (drove on land and water). Sometime in the ‘70s the FBI broke up the event and arrested Father Ruhland.

After the cards finished, Mark went to do some work while I went to the kitchen with Mike. He told me more about his business and I learned he can’t say charcuterie. He said he makes some nice boards of smoked fish, cheese, crackers, veggies, and Koolicks (which is a pickle infused with cherry Kool-Aid). He opened up some smoked sturgeon and smoked salmon, then we ate some Koolicks (yum). Then he packed us a lunch for tomorrow with this and a package of saltines.

Mike told stories of some of the other river riders he’s met, and of some of his favorite restaurant customers. The most touching was about a 75 year old woman whose husband had retired. His dream was always to live on a boat and take it down the Mississippi to the ocean. The couple bought an old bought and spent years refurbishing it. Just when it was ready to launch, the husband died. The woman had the boat towed to her farm in northeast Iowa, where she now lives on it.

Mike said from the moment he made fun of my stupid orange shirt and I didn’t really care, he figured we’d get along. We talked about the importance of the Golden Rule, as well as knowing how to quickly steer clear of those that think only of themselves. I blame Mike’s hospitality for making me another day behind in my blog (which I’m now posting nearly a week late). I’ll visit Mike’s Fish Shack with Christin sometime for a charcuterie board and cold Hamms.

Today’s music offering, as a nod to old friends, new friends, and friends I’ve not yet met – it’s fabulous what wonders I’ve encountered on this journey because of all three. Sharing the experiences today with Mark; Deb and Mike were a joy to be around at the Fish Shack in Guttenberg; who knows what tomorrow will bring (let’s hope it’s not a hacksaw and the inside of a suitcase!). Joe Cocker sings With a Little Help from My Friends