Word for today: FLABBERGASTED. I know it’s not too different to yesterday, but hang with me.

My word for today was going to be ALACRITY, because after the reluctance to start yesterday in the rain, I wanted to prove to myself that I could still get motivated and operate with energy and efficiency for an early start (and I know DJ would’ve appreciated that word). I had some 50 mile days planned and those are more assured with 10-12 hours on the water vs 7-9, so I need to remain capable of hitting the water at first light. I was up at 5:15am with coffee ready by 5:30. The tent was down and bags packed, ready to go by 6:15. I was just waiting for one thing… light. I couldn’t paddle out in the dark foggy morning and risk another kank. Nope. I need to remain kank-free for 14 more days.

It was still windy as I packed the boat; I noticed the wind was causing a few waves and making the tugboats parked across the river sound like they were coming and going. When the light did start to arrive, there wasn’t much to see but dense gray fog. Visibility was probably 100’ or less; it was similar to that morning in Iowa with Lecy and Caroline. This would make for an interesting start to the day. I appreciated the fog yesterday that kept the tugboats grounded, but I couldn’t even see buoys or the opposite bank in this.

The only thing I could do was to stay close enough to see the bank, and watch for buoys. I remember from last night that there was a line of 3-4 red buoys upcoming on my side, after 5 minutes I saw one from about 75’ away. 5 minutes later, another. A few minutes after that I saw what looked like a wing dam on the opposite bank. Though that seemed awfully close to be the opposite bank, and my distance to it was closing rather quickly. It was a tow of barges 5 wide, moving upstream! I was plenty close enough to the shore to be away from danger, but I was not expecting ANY barge movement in this fog. It then donned on me, those waves, and the sound as if barges were moving while I was packing up, those weren’t caused by the wind at all. Barges had been moving past my camp as I loaded the boat, but they were invisible in the fog.

So, what was the deal yesterday? Was it some sorta national tugboat holiday? Maybe the anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald – ‘when the gales of November come early…’ Or was there just some rule about fog if it occurs on the first Thursday of the month. Whatever the rules, they’re nonsensical and I suspect the Freemasons are behind it.

So, the morning paddling just got more interesting. 3 barge tows going upstream passed in quick succession, then no traffic. The sun was brightening and it looked like it would burn through the fog shortly. Then an eagle flew out of the fog, he came in close and I heard his voice. That seemed a good omen.

Around 8am the fog abated to about yesterday’s level, I could see a good mile ahead, but it was harder to detect barge movement. I was coming out of a right hand bend when I was passed by another upstream barge; I wanted to move to the other side of the channel, but there was a barge tow within my vision that looked like it could be coming towards me. Then I saw 2 others behind it, and they all appeared to be close to that left bank; if I don’t change over, it’s going to be a mess of waves in there. So I turned 90 degrees and sprinted for the opposite bank.

In normal channel widths, it only takes 2-3 minutes for me to cross, and it takes 10-15 minutes for a barge tow a mile away to come upon me, so I haven’t had anything remotely close to a close call, but it’s still nerve wracking and perspiration producing to cross in traffic. As I reached the other bank I soon realized, that the closest barges were indeed not moving, and neither were the two behind them. I turned the bend and saw 5 or 6 more barges with tugboats parked on the bank. I now realized that in this moderate fog, again nobody was allowed to move. And again I say, wot’s, uh, the deal? When you can’t see your hand in front of your face, everyone goes gangbusters, but when you can ‘only’ see a mile, whoa Nellie. New rules… there are no rules.

As I came into one section just before lunch, I could see 14 tugboats parked in one turn: 10 on the left outside bend, 3 on the right Indy, and one somehow standing still in the channel. My preference is always take the inside bend, and since there were fewer tugs here, that seemed the obvious choice. As I was passing the first tugboat about 25 feet to my tight, some guy came out and made a “hey-yah” noise and backhanded a shooing motion like that lady at the Chinese restaurant next to Ellie’s laundry. He shooed me like I was a squirrel after the bird feeder! I was surprised and moving by too fast to really respond; in fact his address was really more to the back of my head. Afterwards I thought, if I were to do it again I would say, “Aye! You be insulting the dread Captain Charcuterie! Consider yourself of good fortune if I don’t come aboard and give ye a taste of my blade, swabbie boy!” Most tugboat people just don’t seem to be river people.

At lunch today I actually got off the boat; I was near Rosedale, MS and had a couple bars of 5G reception. So I wanted to get some posts out and make a few calls.

I wanted to remind everyone at this point, these winding stretches of the river are going to be remote. If you don’t see something from me for days, don’t worry. Spoiler alert, I know how this ends and it’s with a final portage down Bourbon Street to celebrate. I’ve asked Christin to bring a sack of walnuts so I can impress people and earn free drinks with my buns of steel parlor trick. There will be no capsizing of Captain Charcuterie. There will be no fatal attacks by bull sharks, or cottonmouths, or alligators, or angry beavers. There will be no banjo music playing while I face Arkansas hillbilly murderers. There will be no ‘severe diabetic’ found comatose in kayak. All the main characters in this story live to tell tales of the river to their grandchildren: “Well junior, did I tell you about the time when Chad had his lure on backwards while I piloted both boats in the dark?” So, don’t worry. It’s just that T-Mobile acquired Sprint when the answer to the ‘can you hear me now?’ question was silence in these parts.

Anyway, my lunch stop also gave me an opportunity to get up closer and personal with a kanker. And it’s one that has an Arkansas Razorback stenciled on it, which is quite common along this stretch. And speaking of kankers… There’s a photo below of a tree in the fog next to a green buoy. I thought it looked sorta cool, and I nearly tried to take a video going past to show how well the river was flowing there. But, it seemed like a high kank risk. But if I would’ve, you would’ve seen written on that buoy in 6” high black letters: KANKAKEE. Add it to the list of things I with I had filmed (I’m still steamed about the bread!) Anyway, I assume that someone perished while trying to write KANKAKEE on that buoy that attacked me, and someone came along later to successfully complete the task, albeit on the kinder, gentler green buoy variety. But I’d still like Webster to pick up my new verb.

Other interesting things seen on the water today: an orange, a 4’ long dead catfish, a large rawhide chew toy, leftover Chinese takeout, a Butterball turkey (was on the shore). I should have made this a standard section in the blog to begin with.

By the afternoon, the sun was out and it started getting hot. It was 75 miles from camp last night to Greenville tomorrow night, so I was ready to call it quits around 4:30. I found a nice beach on the Mississippi side after 43 miles today, though as I write this coyotes are already chatting amongst themselves in the woods. But I have my Clue weapons ready.

So, what’s the deal with ‘wot’s, uh, the deal?’? I left a few inside jokes and music lyric Easter eggs in several blogs. These are mostly targeted at my friend Mike Lahey. 25-30 years ago we could just about have a ‘conversation’ in lyric exchange: e.g. while playing pool waiting for Mike to shut up and take his turn; Me, “Hey Lahey, a little less conversation, a little more action, baby.” Lahey, “Frankie say: Relax, don’t do it, when you wanna go do it” Me, “Okay. Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are gone.” Lahey, “Why don’t you rub that pot roast all over your chest, you’re just an excitable boy.” Okay, this was contrived and not an actual occurrence, we were wittier back then, but we would have this sort of nonsensical lyrical banter until someone laughed or couldn’t carry on. In my mind we did this 100 times, but I’m not sure. We at times did this in public settings with others who would look at us like we were immature imbeciles, and maybe they were right. Our friend Mark Biscan was good at this as well, but Mike and I both remember a time when he abandoned us and our “all lines” dialogue. Okay, okay, enough about the Lahey guy already, he’s not even a side dish. I know but I just thought that the whole lyrical Easter egg thing needed the backstory. Anyway, today’s song is fitting for the confusion of the day, and I think this was the first lyrical Easter egg I threw out there days ago: Pink Floyd Wot’s… Uh The Deal