The word for today is: PROVIDENCE. I went to bed last night expecting 90 degrees and glaring sunshine all day. I woke up this morning to overcast skies, it stayed cloudy with a light rain most of the day. Thank you God for the surprising relief. I made good use of the good weather, earning my Double Nickels badge today – yes, 55 more miles behind me.

I woke with the sun today, planning to knock out only 45 miles so I didn’t need a super early start. Besides, it’s really not great tending to your regular morning routine by headlamp. I was sleeping close to the water again last night, so when I dug a hole this morning I reached the waterline; I think I’ve done this at 2 other stealth camps. Now it’s like going in a regular toilet bowl!

Wait a minute… is this going to be another poop story? Haven’t we had enough of those? How many 4th graders do you think you have reading this blog anyway? Yeah, but this one is different; and I think it’s funny. You always think the poop stories are funny, that’s the problem! Okay, well, I’ll make this the last one. No more poop stories for the next 14 days. Ugh. Fine.

So, after taking care of business, I piled sand back over the hole and said “whoosh!”, trying to make a flushing sound. When I did, I remembered I did that at the last waterline camp as well. How fun to have a new waterline routine.

That reminded me of another routine that makes me smile quietly to myself every time I think about it. When someone I know was first potty trained, his mother used to hear him making noises in the bathroom just before he flushed. One day, after he went in and closed the door, she went to investigate. He did his business, then she heard from the other side of the door, “bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk”, like the clucking of a chicken. She also thought she heard tiny footsteps. She couldn’t help but investigate further, whereupon opening the door she saw her son strutting with his arms bent and raised in a sort of wing flapping motion, with a long expanse of toilet paper hanging from between his cheeks as a mock tail. I think he turned to her and said, “close the door.”

What a great routine!

Now, that person went on to do great things. He’s an accomplished athlete and respected professional, and his toddling bathroom antics have not surfaced publicly since that investigation by his mother. I envision him one day turning professional wrestler and dream of him entering the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen… now entering the ring: the king of the commode, the head of the head, the Duke of deuce, the sultan of stool, the punisher of porcelain. Let’s give a warm Caesar’s Palace welcome to the cock of the bathroom walk… Whoa! Hold it there; you can’t share his name! Nothing good can come of that. It’s like saying Rumpelstiltskin’s name. Ummm, no. If you say Rumpelstiltskin’s name the princess gets released from a lifetime of bondage to the spinning wheel. I think you’re thinking of Beetlejuice. Well excuse me Aesop Fableman! But you can’t say his name. But I said he went on to do great things. The Belsnickel even deemed him admirable! Besides, maybe it wasn’t a chicken imitation, maybe it was a peacock. Maybe it was you?!?! Okay, well this person went on to do great things, though he did not have a 31 year career in the oil industry, or write a blog about his kayak travels on the Mississippi, or become a famous pirate with a plated assortment of meats, cheeses and other snacks named after him. So what I’m saying is you can overcome these things.

While some people get over their chicken fetish while they’re young, I know other people (my sister) pick them up later in life. to. I hate to think what her bathroom routine is like. But I’m sure others have interesting defecation victory dances that they’d like to share with us in the comments section; we’d all like to know your idiosyncrasies and then judge you silently.

Now, where was I? Right – morning routine done, camp broken down and packed on board, and on the water about 8. As I said, it was overcast and breezy to start and everything was feeling good. Though this stretch of river just keeps bending back and forth. It like I’m caught in some watery version of the Electric Slide: “Bend to the left y’all, now bend to the right y’all, now bend to the left y’all, now bend to the right y’all…” I’ve gotten to where every 2-3 bends I take a break and see where I’m at. There really are very few landmarks of any sort to keep you grounded – for instance I saw one bridge today, 5 miles before I finished. It pretty much all looks the same: parked barges every so often, a few grain elevators every 15 or so miles, lots of sand bars, and plenty of piles of rocks that the US Army Corps of Engineers maintains to keep the river on its current course.

The biggest highlight today was barge traffic. Barges were frequent and large, mostly headed upstream. I must’ve passed a barge every 20-30 minutes, though sometimes they were in quicker succession than that. The key to best dealing with barges is to keep space between you, them and the shore. On the bends this is always best on the inside corner. However, traffic was so heavy today that a few times I couldn’t cross the main channel for fear of being run over, meaning I had to stay on the outside corner sometimes as barges passed. This usually means tighter space, and rather than sandy beach the shore is a wall of rocks that bounces the waves back at you. There were no real close calls of disaster, but I had to keep on my toes and work to stay out of harms way.

I guess one other highlight: today I had no human interaction. I waved at every tugboat that passed: no acknowledgment. I haven’t seen a fisherman in the past two days, so no anglers checking on my well being. I did see a tent today with two small watercraft beached next to it: one was an overturned kayak and the other appeared to be an old school peddle boat. There weren’t any dry bags obvious and the person on shore I saw didn’t wave me in or seen distressed, so I don’t think they were the ‘source to sea’ type and I went on my way.

My mom asked the other day what the wildlife is like now: it’s pretty much nonexistent. Today I saw three deer about a mile away returning to the woods after a drink from the river. Otherwise no other quadrupeds in two days. I saw a bald eagle today, none yesterday. Pelicans and geese seems to be starting to head south. There’s the occasional heron, but I haven’t seen an egret in days. And there seem to be a lot of swifts or swallows darting around in some places, like the ones eating Mormon flies at pelican Peg’s.

I guess the last thing to share today – To capture my thoughts while I paddle, I do a lot of asking Siri to take a note for me (maybe I’ve explained that before.) But, it seems like she’s now trying to censor me. For instance, when I had that thought the other day about the protective codpiece, I said, “Hey Siri, take a note for me.” She responded, “What would you like it to say?” “Remind me to blog about bringing back into fashion the codpiece and..” Siri, “Done.” But I wasn’t done! “Hey Siri!” “Mmmm-hmmm?” “Take a note for me. Siri, “Working on it…. I’m sorry, something went wrong. Please try again later.” She knows very well that I’m likely to forget “later”. She just doesn’t think some of these subjects belong in a blog about kayaking the Mississippi River; I suppose she’s not alone?

I nearly forgot to write about the bread! (Actually I did forget, but reception was too bad to publish earlier, so at 1:37AM when I woke up thinking about the bread… I added it.) Friday at lunchtime, I had my bread laid out on a gallon ziplock to make a PBJ sandwich. As I went for my knife and PB, the wind kicked up and blew ziplock and bread into the water. The ziplock was saved, the bread was not. I was angry and wished aloud that the bread would be eaten by and give severe intestinal distress to some stupid Asian carp. This occurred around mile marker 810. About 3:30pm today I passed in the water, a slice of bread! I don’t know why surface I didn’t get a photo. Now, I think the river surface is flowing around 2-2.5 miles per hour. That lunch event occurred 5 days and 6 hours ago. So, that lost bread unmolested by carp could have traveled 252-315 miles meaning it could’ve gotten somewhere between mile markers 558 and 495. I passed that bread today around mile marker 635. So, maybe it was hung up by headwind? Or it got stuck in a channel? Seems improbable. But, how many other people could’ve dropped a slice of bread in this section of the river in the past few days? There’s only me and these tugboats out here.

I imagine walking into the morgue with the coroner, Quincy. He pulls the sheet back on the stainless steel gurney, “Is this your slice of Bunny brand whole wheat bread?” I take a hard look, “Gee Quincy, I’m just not sure; the coloring looks right, and even though it’s water logged it still has those two beautiful muffin tops. Maybe? I think it is mine.” If I had just stopped a moment for a photo, maybe I could’ve been more certain. We’ll likely never know.

Tonight, again I’m camping down by the waterline; this may become a recurring habit from here out. My mom suggested this song, and now I hope it takes on a new meaning for you whenever you hear it. Excuse me for a minute, I need to go Down to the Waterline by Dire Straits.