Take Me to the River (cont.)

River view from the foot of Row Island

Day 3

Saturday dawned clear and beautiful. I awoke to the smell of the campfire. John was making Tower Rock Crunch for breakfast - toasted oats and apples in the big dutch oven. Once the oats were toasty and the apples were soft, he added nuts - almonds, walnuts, and pecans. Then, he added soft fruits (strawberries and blueberries) and hot water at the very end, putting the lid back on the oven until the liquid was absorbed. Heavenly. His campfire coffee was also really good. 

Morning walks

Mara and I filled our bowls and watched the sun touch the treetops on the opposite shore. We also kept scanning that shore for deer (which we never could seem to find, even though we knew their tracks were everywhere) and other wildlife. 

After breakfast, she and I went on a walk to explore. We found tons of deer tracks, as well as tracks for heron, geese, sanderlings (so busy!), coyotes, and raccoons. If we ever saw a track we weren't sure about, we'd take a photo of it. John could identify it for us once we got back to camp. (Also during our walks, we always kept an eye out for firewood. There was a ton of it, and you could drag big branches back to camp fairly easily. We loved sitting by the fire and talking at night, so that meant we needed plenty of firewood!)

Once we'd stretched our legs and let our breakfast settle, the three of us paddled down the back channel. And we had friends! Five flying carp all jumped around the canoe at once, nearly hitting Mara in the head! At the foot of the island, we put in to explore. The island was about a mile wide and three miles long, and the foot of it was covered with a beautiful willow forest. Because the island frequently floods, there's no underbrush, so you can see through to all the tree trunks of the forest, and lots of sunlight reaches a very walkable forest floor. 

We tromped all through it, coming out on the shore on the deep channel side of the island, where huge, impressive fallen trees and sculptural driftwood made for a dramatic place to sit and look. 

After spending some time here, we paddled upstream on the back channel, chasing little sanderlings as they ran along the shoreline. We stopped in a spot where there were some shallow pools and got into the water. Even though the water in the shallows was warmer than it was in the deep river, it was still cold! I waded in up to my waist, but Mara dipped in up to her neck! John, of course, thought nothing of swimming like an otter in the water with Osa. (The man is part river. Honestly.) We also hunted for shiny little minnows in the shallow pools and observed places where the mud was so thick at the bottom of the water that you could tell exactly where a heron had fished for his breakfast, because all of his tracks were still clearly visible in the river bed. 

Just a girl and her river.

Back into the canoe, and then we paddled back upstream to camp. John made us a delicious lunch of salmon salad, seasoned with cumin. We scarfed it down with good bread, tomatoes, and greens, then drank long gulps of water. Once we changed out of our wet clothes, Mara and I both went to the tent for a lie down. Bliss. I read my book a bit, we listened to the wind in the trees, and we watched the river slip by through our tent screen.

By the time we were up and about again, John was already working on dinner! He made delicious catfish filets seasoned with turmeric, along with roasted potatoes and a corn chowder. Mara poured the wine, we gathered by the fire, and we ate as the sun set. 

Dinner by the fire

Again, the stars unfurled above us like a diamond flag. John asked Mara and I if we'd keep Osa company while he went for a night walk. After he left, she started whining a little for him, so we invited her to sit between us. She snuggled down between us, near the fire. We patted her head, and she promptly rolled over on her back for belly rubs, her tongue lolling out a bit. (Mara and I suspected we'd been played! Heh.)

I slept soundly that night, with the river and the stars watching over me through the tent screen.

Day 4

Sunday was our last day on the river. I woke up before dawn, but John had already started a fire. I took a dark walk up to the head of the island. The moon was still up, and the sky was cloudy. As the sun slowly started to rise, I stretched to meet it. There were striations of mist on the river, in layers, with the clearest layer right above the moving water. 

John made us another amazing Tower Rock Crunch for breakfast (He added pineapple this time!), and we took long, leisurely sips of campfire coffee. Then, it was time to break camp and load up the canoe. When everything was packed, we paddled downstream. At the foot of the island, the river completely opened up. It was so wide and beautiful! By now, some of the cloud cover had burned off, and there was a delicious breeze. 

John told us we were going to paddle hard all the way across the river, and we did. The current isn't really helping you in this endeavor, and you have to watch for other river traffic. (We purposefully paddled across the wake of a big barge just for the waves! They were fun to shoot over in the canoe!)

A misty morning on Row Island

We took a quick water break once we reached the other side, then paddled downstream along a rock levee built by the Army Corp of Engineers to help with flood control. It was actually quite beautiful. 

Then, John told us to look for a small channel on our left. He said if we weren't paying attention, we'd miss it, and this was the channel that would take us to DeSoto Lake, where Mark River would be waiting at a landing to collect us later that day. 

Down the willow-lined
channel to DeSoto Lake

When we found the channel and turned the canoe in, it was completely magical. Tall, feathery willow trees rose high on either side of a narrow slip of water, so dramatically intimate after the vast expanse of the big river. We surprised a beaver sunning itself on a log, and it quickly hopped into the water with a little shriek. A blue heron flew before us in the channel, its wings making long graceful arcs. Some of the willow leaves that had turned yellow drifted down to the water with little spinning movements in the fall breeze. 

After we'd paddled up the channel a good ways, John put the boat in so we could go ashore and explore. We found tons of evidence of beavers - whole felled trees, lots of chewed wood, etc. When the river is high, John explained that all of these woods would be flooded, clear over to the lake. We also found tons of pearly oyster mushrooms! John produced a big ziplock bag, and once we knew what to look for, it was easy to spot them. We filled one big bag that we could take home, split, and share with our families. 

We hopped back into the canoe and continued paddling up the channel. Instead of hooking right into the lake, John had us ram through a reedy patch of water until we came out on the flooded woods at the far edge of DeSoto Lake. This protected us from the wind, gave us lots of cool trees to paddle through, and afforded more wildlife watching opportunities. We saw bald eagles, kingfishers, more jumping carp, and another very surprised beaver! 

This whole morning felt like such an adventure, and we paddled through areas that were so different than the river we'd navigated before. Amazing. 

After a bit, John pointed out the landing, and we could see Mark's truck and the trailer parked there, We paddled across the lake, hopped out of the canoe, and then John and Mark loaded our canoe up! On the way back to the canoe company, we stopped at the Clarksdale Cemetery. One of Mara's old friends was buried there, and he had also happened to be a friend of John's. (In fact, John had been a pall bearer at his funeral.) We located his grave so Mara could say hello and share some sweet stories with us. It was a meaningful stop. 

Oyster mushrooms in the forest!

Back at the canoe company office, we pulled our things out of the dry bags and put them back into our sad, normal-people suitcases. For the first time since Thursday, I put sneakers on my feet instead of my flexible water shoes. 

As we were leaving, John pressed a book into each of our hands that contained one of his essays on the river. (People who give you books are the best people.) Then, Mara and I headed home. (FYI - Between Greenwood and I-55, Mara and I saw the first deer we laid eyes on during our whole trip. It ran out in front of our car! Luckily, Mara's quick response was a gentle but firm depression of the brakes and no swerving. The deer skittered right in front of the vehicle, none the worse. One last story!) 

Though I'd never paddled the Mississippi before, I felt completely safe and cared for in John Ruskey's capable hands. He knew everything - the river, the trees and plants, the animals and their tracks, what was edible and not. And if you asked, he'd tell you. I mentioned to him that in the musical Showboat, they sing a song about the Mississippi River being an old man. But that the river didn't feel like an old man at all. John said that he thought of the river as a young woman - vigorous, changeable, beautiful.    

It's hard for me to put into words how much this trip meant to me. Yes, the Mississippi River is used for industrial purposes, but it is huge and wide and wild. We hardly saw another human the whole time we were out there, and the quiet was like a sacrament. This trip also made me really proud to be a Mississippian. I've been to many places, including some pretty impressive national and state parks. I'd put this experience up against any of them. Our river is a treasure.