Word for today: VARIATION. The happenings today were a bit out of the ordinary as we paddled to Grafton Illinois, meeting Christin again and getting a hotel stay that would be an upgrade from a bed of rocks on a rural walkway. Some of the day was the ordinary moving down the River experience, but much of the day was fresh and new.

As the weather predicted the morning was clear and calm. Again we were up and pouring coffee before sunrise. There was a toilet about three quarters of a mile away at the dam, so we walked with our coffees to have a regular sit down. There was a barge already in the lock, having come from downriver early this morning, he looked prepared to exit in our direction. When we got to the toilet – it was locked. Some guy who walked through our kitchen last night told us that they sometimes lock things up around here to deter vandals, but we were hopeful that wouldn’t be the case. We couldn’t understand what vandals would visit this relatively remote facility, but our wondering wouldn’t unlock the doors.

We retreated in separate directions in the surrounding area, though privacy was not easy to find. Mudd said he hopes he has grandkids someday to be able to tell how he pooped by the light of a river barge tow boat two consecutive mornings. I suppose that is fairly unique, but I’m hoping the Mudd moon will be waning over the next few days.

Last night I had two mosquitoes in my tent when I went to bed. The only thing worse than having mosquitoes around is having yourself confined with them in a very small living space. Thankfully with my headlamp and a little effort, I extinguished them within the first half hour of trying to sleep. But… did I say yesterday I hate centipedes? As I broke down my tent this morning I discovered I had been confined with one of those as well. Who knows where he walked all over me with those nasty unnecessary extra legs while I slept. This morning he paid the ultimate price for his unknown offenses.

After we broke down camp, we approached the lock and got through just as they were bringing a crane in to do some maintenance. I’m not sure exactly what they had planned, but a few of the workers were watching over us in the lock as we descended. As usual, they had questions about our journey and prognosis about the conditions we have yet to face. They were friendly and it’s sometimes nice to have a little casual conversation with strangers as the lock water subsides.

Again we saw very few towns today. There were scattered residences on both sides of the river, and around lunchtime we passed a small collection of houses clustered near a car ferry on the Illinois side. The only sign we saw was for Calhoun County; the ferry provided services roughly between Golden Eagle Illinois and Peruque Missouri, neither of which was familiar. While we ate our floating lunch, the lone canoeist from last night passed us by with a brief wave.

Moments after we got underway from lunch, we came up on the lone canoeist who was having his own rest. When he came by us earlier he was standing and paddling as if on a paddleboard, now he was hunched in his canoe and I wasn’t sure he was okay. “You doing alright?” I called. “Yeah, just taking a little break.” We started a conversation and then he paddled on with us for the rest of the afternoon.

Kevin (not to be confused with Kayaker Kevin in De Soto Wisconsin, this is Canoeist Kevin in Nowheresville Illinois) is 26 years old and has been on the water over 50 days. As we went along I discovered that it’s him I had to thank for my not putting in at the Lake Itasca headwaters. I had heard the story how he put in there, fought through solid vegetation for two days, gave up and turned back through the vegetation and got a U-Haul to take him downstream. It turns out he went past Iron Bridge where I put in with Shootman, but he gave up when he hit the wall of cattails that we pushed through. I’m sure he was very close to getting past the vegetation but he couldn’t tell. We shared a few stories of our travels and agreed that most people are good and want to be helpful. I was glad to know that he too didn’t carry a gun and we agreed that we should never be in a position where that would seem necessary.

Kevin is 26 years old (less than half my age!) and recently left a sales job working 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. He quit and was now all in to this Mississippi experience, having dreamed of it for 8 years. we talked about his need to find more balance in his life, that 100% work or 100% “pleasure” were not sustainable. He agreed but we concluded he’s more of a risk taker than me; he’s dreamt of doing this trip for 9 years, but he only planned it for about 2 weeks. He also confessed that he’s lost 36 pounds on his journey, surviving mostly on oatmeal and canned soups; though he admitted he had more he could afford to lose when he started.

When we closed in on Grafton Illinois Kevin went his own way, hoping to make another 6-8 miles today (also I told him I had a date with my wife and he wasn’t invited). We exchanged phone numbers before we parted and hoped to meet again as we race to the bottom of the Mississippi map.

We arrived at the Grafton Harbor at the same time as Christin; we paid $20 each for some “transient” slips; I didn’t really care for the transient moniker but “temporary resident superhero” slip likely would’ve cost more. We unloaded all of our gear and carted it to the vehicle to store safely as we slept in the Riverview Inn.

The Inn was great, though we didn’t have a whole lot of time to enjoy the amenities and the views. They gave me and Christin the Eagle’s Nest suite. Did I mention before that I’m kinda done with the whole Bald Eagle thing? There are an estimated 9,700 mating pairs of eagles in Minnesota; I think I saw 9,500 of them and haven’t gone a single day without seeing at least 8-10 eagles. There were eagles at every turn in the suite, which I probably didn’t appreciate, though I was glad not to be in the Centipede Suite. Apparently some eagles “winter” in Grafton: I suppose the older retired eagles with a generous pension plan would take advantage of that opportunity.

We headed to dinner at the Grafton Brewhaus which was combination brewery and winery. We arrived around 5 and discovered we would have 2 problems eating there: 1) they close at 6pm and 2) they don’t allow balloons. Mudd is considering a second career as a balloon artist and I was hoping to have him make us some wiener dogs. And I think with some generous clown make up he may not be too creepy for kid’s’ birthday parties in Hannibal.

We settled for a round of beers at the brewery then went across the street for a nice burger and some loaded fries. We had a lot of laughs over dinner and a restful evening in our suites. Thanks Christin again for making this Grafton evening possible!

Someone commented recently that I should dedicate a song to my wife for all of her dedications to my cause. I can’t recall if I’ve done that or not. But here’s a little ditty that I hope relates as I am happier with Christin than without her, even though I’ve chosen this temporary life of mostly solitude: Inspiration Information by Shuggie Otis. Life is still good out here on the Riverquest.