Today’s word: CRINKUM-CRANKUM. Okay, I don’t know if this word quite fits, but today had a lot of twists and turns; I know my friend Howie will appreciate this one. And, today was a smashing success, and now that the adrenaline has worn off I feel I can be a little exuberant. Oh, that would’ve been a good word for today!

The plan was to get 35 or 38 miles in today to get to what should’ve been good camping, and within 23-26 miles of the planned finish. So, the plan was on the water in the dark again. However, it was in the 40’s again and I now had plenty of water, so I changed my plans and made hot coffee, which took some time. Then when I made my first trip to the boat… the water had risen again. The boat was completely afloat and the two places where I tied off were both underwater; last night the boat was completely out of the water and the tie off points were 10’ from the waterline. The seat was completely full off water from all night barge waves. So this all took some sorting out before I could load up.

I was finally on the water at 6:45, just after sunrise, and enclosed in fog. Like before, I was the only one moving. However, I needed to stay close to shore, and tugboats with barges were frequently parked in my way. I felt like I was moving at a decent pace, but following the contour of the shore and occasionally moving around tugboats wasn’t the most efficient, but if this was the last test the river had for me, I’ll take it. Also, there was no way I would cross the channel in the fog, especially as I couldn’t even see the other side.

The fog started to lift around 8:30 as I went across some waves, like something out there was moving, or had just moved. The big ships run pretty quick and silent, that could’ve been the source. When I did come out of the fog, there were 6 big ocean-going ships anchored just ahead of me. I’m expecting a lot of traffic today. Also, as I passed a few of these big ships I felt the morning sun on my right cheek and I realized, I’m headed straight north again! I need to get south, river.

I also noticed hanging off the side of the ship Rosario was a long net; then I noticed the same thing was on some of the other ships, maybe they all have this. I guessed that this was in case someone went overboard they could use this to climb back up. Maybe this is how Sandy Bromenschenkel’s 9th great grandfather got back on the mayflower. I thought about paddling up to the Rosario and saying, “Excuse me captain, would you mind lowering that net? I’d like to come aboard and do a little pirating.” But I didn’t really have the time. I didn’t imagine these nets were for catching yellow fin while they’re transporting their grains.

I also noticed there was no real strain on the anchor chains from these ships. There was no major current trying to push these things back out into the Gulf. There was no perceptible flow at all. I thought maybe with the river up overnight that we might feel a little push, but there was none. Also, there was not a single buoy today. Either the river is now so deep and wide they’re no longer needed, or the Louisiana boys have hunted them to extinction.

Speaking of yellow fin, sushi sounds really good right now. Christin asked me yesterday what I’m looking forward to eating when I finish, but really a burger still sounds best. I’m more looking forward to a change in creature comforts: a shower, clean sheets, clothes that don’t smell, and certainly the absence of sand. The sand is comfy and convenient for camp, but it’s on and in everything, especially me.

I’ve also noticed that there’s near constant noise now, for the past few days: industrial machinery, lawnmowers, dogs barking, trains, tugboats… the river feels more like a commercial freeway all the time, a vital part of all this civilization.

But I really had one thing weighing almost constantly on my mind today: the chains. Thanks all for your prayers and I’m happy to report no thwomp today. But I did find myself paddling pretty much constantly today just to take whatever strain I could off the pedals. My hands got stiff and sore, and I expect I’ll be feeling this a bit tomorrow.

I had my lunch break just next to Saint John the Baptist parish. In fact, it was just beyond a sign that said Saint John the Baptist water intake; wow, they must be baptizing a lot of people; that’s great!

After lunch I guzzled about a quart of my newfound water riches. Unfortunately, though that extra gallon I got yesterday was sealed and brand new, it was the worst water I’ve tasted since New Madrid. I’ll have to look at that label to make sure I avoid it in the future.

I was thinking a lot about my family again today, and then I passed this crane that said “Carline”. when our oldest, Sarah, first started to write, she kept a notebook as a sort of journal. Years later we found it and discovered she mostly wrote about how mean and idiotic her siblings were. One sentence that we still laugh about today said, “Carline pops in her sopid pots!” Which we ciphered to mean “Caroline poops in her stupid pants!” So the Carline crane brought a smile. Then moments later, I passed a barge named Ms. Sarah! Most of these barges are named things like ATC 3090, or MT 31754; the tugboats all have names, but this is the first barge I’ve seen with an actual name. Sorry Isaac, I didn’t see any Ike related items on the river today.

The day was a continual dealing with ships, barges and loading facilities. However, I had several verbal exchanges with various operators and they were all friendly. The ADM tug Louisiana Sky gave me a friendly honk and wave this morning. Workers on the Ingram tug Sallie Mae yelled to me, “Hey, you can’t travel there; that tug’s about to bring those barges right here. You should move close to those barges to your right,” which was helpful. A guy on a Kirby petroleum barge said, “Looks like you’re living the good life! Sure beats workin’” lastly as I passed Valero’s St Charles refinery, I realized I was passing by the loading dock that a tug was wanting to pull into. I said, “Sorry; I didn’t mean to get in your way.” The response, “No, you’re all good. You can slow down. We got a call on the radio said there was a blue kayak coming, so we’re all right.” There were a few other hello’s, wishes for safety, and thumbs up. And several people took my picture; I suppose to take home to loved ones and say “look at this crazy hobo I saw today!”

At some point this afternoon, I realized that other than a quick 10 minute break in the morning and 20 minutes for lunch, I had been going all day. And these were high stress hours with all of the activity. I’m sure I used up a lot of adrenaline today, plus I had the added thwomp stress on me. At 4 I thought about taking a rest, but then I got into the mix of some ADM and Bunge grain loading facilities and I decided to just keep pouring it in until 5:30. At that time I could see a long line of parked barges, then 3 miles ahead another loading facility, then some clear bank. I didn’t expect to make that clearing much before dark, so I looked for camping behind the barges.

I found a perfect spot with a sandy landing and a flat, raised area above that. As I stepped on the bank, I noticed some big swoosh like marks from tails, and then lots of alligator paw prints. I looked at the water and 30 feet away we’re 3 smallish gators. I said to them, “Find a new home, this one’s mine tonight.” I went to the boat and grabbed my bag with the tent. Then I noticed some big hole through the grass, and more gator tracks. I looked back to the water: 8 gators now, some a little bigger. It’s a perfect camp, but it’s infested, and it’s your last night, not worth the worry. I carried my bag back and set out on the water again, by now 10 gators I counted.

So I moved on another mile and found a less than perfect spot. A fairly muddy landing and a beautiful view of barges. But there’s a 20 gallon cooler washed up that makes a nice seat or table, and I won’t be out long due to mosquitoes. As I started my dinner, 3 gators started to float my way. I didn’t see any tracks on shore or other signs for concern, so I plan to survive.

As I crossed mile marker 145, I had less than 50 miles to go. In New Orleans the last 5 miles on the left bank are marked in red on the Army Corps maps, which I believe means no barges allowed. So, now I’m thinking in football terms:, I’m driving the ball in the opponents half trying to get into the red zone. I now have 17 miles to go to the red zone, and 22 to the end zone.

I likely won’t post tomorrow night, but I hope to drop you a line when I reach the red zone.

I’m not sure what song best fits for the playlist today (I’m sure people have their own ideas), but I’m going back to 1970 one hit wonder Blues Image: Ride Captain Ride. From Wikipedia: In the lyrics, the crew invite others to ride along with them to new land, where they will feel free. However, the local people are too preoccupied with life’s troubles to hear or answer their call. When the crew set sail, they are never seen or heard from again. The Captain rides with his crew on a mystery ship, which disappears forever. This captain is riding to the finish tomorrow without any of life’s troubles to see my favorite person.