Word for today: GULP

Okay, let’s get this out there to start. I’m officially in alligator country! 🐊 It was 4:45 this afternoon, passing mile 316. I was coming to the end of a nice big sandy beach and was thinking, “I’m tired, it’s getting late. I know we wanted 45 miles, but 39 is okay. And we’re not gonna find a better beach than this before dark. Whaddya think Strom?” Then when I started to turn towards the beach, there was a low sort of hiss, and some movement as a 4-5’ long alligator turned and slid from the beach to the water. I instinctively said “yikes!”, and of course couldn’t get my camera fast enough to catch him on the beach. For what it’s worth, I did get a picture of him floating in the water.

So, that beach was taken, and it gave me motivation to risk darkness and press on for some more miles. I did see a deer and two fawns about a mile later down at the water drinking. No alligator leapt up and dragged them in by their throats. So, we’re not infested with gators, but we now have four new rules: 1) No more bathing in river (9 days?!?!) 2) Look both ways when crossing beach from tent to boat 3) Use headlamp if going out of tent at night so you can see what you pee on 4) Don’t pee on alligators.

So, that was an exciting nearly end of the day; the day started again before sunrise. Though I was up earlier than yesterday, it took me even longer to get going. This morning I finally had a decent signal to upload photos on yesterday’s blog, and I needed to make New Orleans hotel arrangements and square up a few things with Mark and Chad. I also found out from Christin that Shootman is joining the NO party as well! Fantastic to have 3/4 of the side dishes for the celebration. Mudds unfortunately have plane tickets on the 20th to see their oldest daughter in Colorado, so sadly they can’t make it; we’ll have a toast to them on Bourbon Street. So, lots of time on the mobile phone delayed my start to 8:30 (and again I was hopeful for 45-50 miles with an early start).

Oh by the way: my eye is fine. In fact it’s better than ever. When I close my right eye and just look through my left, I hear this bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah sound and I can see see the scowl on an angry beaver 20 miles away, just like Steve Austin except without the $6 million operation. For you younger generation, I’m talking about the 1970’s Lee Majors character, not the wrestler from Stone Cold Creamery.

I’ve decided I’m not going to post anything about any more ailments. Nobody needs to worry about any health matters for the last 6 days. Unless I get a wooden leg or hook for a hand, assume I’m 100% healthy. Besides, I’ve got that big new roll of duct tape from Chris in Vicksburg that’s enough to cure anything that might come up. I could even tape my leg back on if I get it back from that alligator.

The headline for today’s post is meant to indicate: these are hard miles. I was sorta thinking that the current would keep getting stronger and whisk me away toward the gulf. That I could just sit back and take selfies, and bask in my glory as I float towards the end. But the past three days have been back in the meat grinder. I guess it’s been pretty tough all along, so I shouldn’t have expected these final days to be any different.

And the difficulty is not the loneliness. Yes, it would’ve been nice to have someone along in Memphis or Vicksburg, but days on the water are fine being alone, sometimes even easier. And it’s more relaxing not having to have worry about Lecy wanting to stuff my body into a big suitcase.

The hardest hours of the day are always after lunch. It’s hot and you’re full and you’re already tired, but you need to go on. These are especially harder when they coincide with slow periods in the water, as happened again today. Like yesterday in Natchez, at the worst part of the day, the river seemed to stop and the buoys disappeared. But after about 20 minutes of this today, when I looked ahead, I could see far off in the distance, maybe 1.5 miles away, the red buoy was wavering, like there was flow in front of us. This gave me a reason to push hard through this still static section, in hopes that there was exhilaration ahead as I hit the bend. The exhilaration was not fantastic, and it was relatively short lived, but it helped drag me out of the post lunch malaise and press steadily onward.

After the gator scare, I ended up stopping after 42 miles (again) on a piece of beach that’s good enough. The woods are close, I already heard the annoyed snort-whistle of a deer. And there’s a light about 2 miles up that also emits a loud “mooop” every 15 seconds; it sorta sounds like a loon. I guess this is to provide a sort of auditory lighthouse signal, maybe to help any blind tugboat captains out there? I’ve certainly stayed in worse spots, as you know, but I’ve been getting sorta spoiled. I think though down this final stretch, really good spots are going to be hard to find.

Maybe it’s a day premature, but as I sleep on the Louisiana side of the river, there’s only a mile of shore across from me left of Mississippi. Tomorrow after 10-15 minutes, all I have left is Louisiana miles. So, goodbye Mississippi playlist addition from Bob Dylan: Mississippi