Kansas City to the Ocean 2003 Kansas RiverKeeper, all 20 feet of her, docked in Memphis. The "halfway" point of an epic journey from Kansas City to the ocean.

It was later than we planned, colder than we wanted, the ramp was completely out of the water, but we were going. The day was upon us. For years Scott Mansker and I had talked about one day leaving from our homes in Kansas City and just traveling the rivers all the way to the ocean. Wouldn't that be a great trip . . . ! Over the last several years we made a few shorter trips (500 miles or so), which taught us about the preparation needed in traveling 1600 river miles. And so, since September 2002, we have been preparing and building our boat for this expedition. We would leave on March 14 of 2003. The idea was to start in Kansas City, travel down the Missouri, enter the Mississippi, travel all the way to the fabled "Mile 0" post sitting out in the Gulf of Mexico. Essentially, from the center of the country to the ocean in an open boat. The Boat The boat was originally a 1974 Kenner duck boat; 16 feet long made of fiberglass. A good number of years ago it had sunk after hitting a log and was sitting in a yard at Arnie's Boats near Lawrence, Kansas when we first saw her. We saw it through the lens of possibilities. We bought it for $150 dollars and threw everything away except the hull. After patching the hole, which was about the size two hands, we sanded, painted and put in a console with two benches on the bow. I built a two-foot box for the back to mount a motor and added a "wave breaker" to the front. It was a blunt nose boat and the wave breaker gave us a little more protection from water coming into the boat. All of the plywood I covered with fiberglass. The plywood was marine grade, which was left over from a raft building expedition we took two years ago. For this long trip, I added a small shell between the front and the console making a cabin of sorts. It had a roof, three windows of Plexiglas, and three sides walls. This gave us some place to get out of the weather. Our trip was in March and it could turn cold, actually, it hadn't been warm yet. Because of the sun and heat from a trip we took during the summer, I also fashioned a top canopy to keep the sun off the driver. We planned to travel all daylight hours and some nights. When all was done, our boat was 20 feet long, and we bought a 50 hp Honda from Smithville Marine. We included a 2 hp Honda as an emergency motor. We like the 4-strokes, we get good mileage, good power, no mixing problems, and they seem to have greater longevity. We need the longevity aspect, we take lengthy trips. The boat was launched and christened the Kansas Riverkeeper, that's another story (see Log of the Riverkeeper). Russ Russell Payzant lives in Olathe, Kansas, is married to Jerilyn Payzant and has five children. He works for a manufacturing company designing commercial equipment. Served in the US Marine Corps during Vietnam. Serves on community organizations. And is an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He enjoys building things in his garage.

Scott (Photo by Mike Cooper of Cooper's Landing)

Scott Mansker lives in Olathe, Kansas, and is married to Cristi Mansker, they have two children. Scott teaches school for the Olathe School District; he also runs a lawn and landscaping business. He serves on the board of the local chapter of Riverkeeper called Friends of the Kaw River. His first trip down the Missouri was on a raft he and some friends built while still in high school. The Trip to the Ocean 3/14/03 Fri Worked through Thursday night, working on the electrical hook ups. Scott's grandfather, Cy, came over and helped until late. Gramps would drive us to the ramp and then after we finished the trip, he would drive down to New Orleans with the trailer and pick us up. Scott and I would meet him at his house at 5:30 that morning but things did not go very fast. In fact, we never completely finished the wiring. I just closed up everything except the essential lights and connections. I had been working on the boat every night after work and on Saturdays since Christmas and still had more to do. Showered 4:30 AM, then came back to the garage and finished a part of the cabin wall. Load up and packed until 9:30. Left for Gramps house.

Russ attaches the pilot's canopy at the ramp. The ramp actually ends where the tires are. It's another 20 feet to the water and another 20 feet past that until the boat can float. Thank goodness for the 4 wheel-drive F150 purchase earlier that month from Olathe Ford.

Embarked 12:00 noon at the Route 291 Bridge near Independence, MO. The expected warm weather of 70 degrees was having a hard time materializing; we were still in the lower 60s and breezy. The water was down; the year had been very dry. In many places the great Missouri River was only 6 feet deep. We got the boat off the trailer in an awkward manner; it was more like dropping a barrel off the back of a truck. There was a steep drop on the up-river side of the ramp. We backed the trailer down and let the boat slide into the stream at about 30 degrees of incline. The cement ramp stopped about ten feet before the water, some rocks. While it was not a pretty launch, it was in the water. In Ray Macke's words, something unexpected always happens on the ramp and his axiom was holding true on this day.

Finally in the water, we stow some gear while the motor warms up. Note the submerged rocks in the foreground. The river was extremely low. We face upstream here as we prepare. The Gulf lies somewhere 1600 miles behind us.

When we finally got underway, it was peaceful, warming, everything was working and confidence was building. But we had a very long way to go: 1600 miles or 8.5 million feet. We had no idea what a boat trip of this length would bring in the way of experiences or challenge. We compared it to making an Apollo moon launch relative to our resources and support.

View from the helm of the RiverKeeper.

There was about five hours of light left on our first day; we could make about 90 miles before dark. After some miles of checking all our systems, leaks, and stowing gear we decided to check out the new little motor. Two days before, I had made a stand for the spare engine. The Honda 2 hp is a sweet and simple affair. It choked to life and ran smoothly after a few pulls. Amazingly, it pushed the boat along and it even went upstream, although only 2 mph. It was for emergency use only, just a little better than paddles. But it was fun and charmingly simple. We putt-putted along for about half an hour, then locked everything back up, started up the 50 hp and got back to speed. I listen to our main motor with earnest concern. I tried to hear any indication that it was under stress. We had driven it over 1000 miles before this trip. I'm thinking that this trip might be a lot for an outboard. Could it go 1600 miles at one time, running all day and all night? For the next two days we were close enough to Kansas City that someone could come and get us if it failed. But the whole trip depended on the motor; there was no trip without that motor. Honda outboards were about to undergo an extreme test. As night came, we would drop to about 7 mph. We had a full moon and visibility very good. However, there were logs in the water. Logs float almost submerged, they just break the surface. Occasionally these logs are short, a few feet long; they are the bad ones. The floating trees you can see some way off. The hull of our boat is only a quarter inch thick fiberglass. Hitting a log head-on could breach the hull. We would have a limited time to reach one of the banks. Often, the banks are only rocky walls and the boat and gear would be lost. This fact kept the driver alert. The two worries: logs and wind. We would have both before the end. Towards 5 PM we had a dinner of hot soup. Scott was the cook. We bought a little bottle that plugged into our 12-volt power outlet. It heated water that we added to dry soup mix and hot cocoa, sure tasted good. Drove through the night alternating each hour. Sat in sleeping bags to keep warm. Used the Coleman lantern in the cabin to keep warm. Temperatures in the 40's. It was quiet on the river and night travel was slow. After so much anticipation, the real thing was even better than my imaginations. I had taken the trip in my mind many times but being here was different. The night was everything; we owned the river, banks, sounds, sky and stars. The excitement of finally going kept each of us sharp. Leaning against our console and canopy uprights, we talked of how long we had imagined such an adventure, all the plans and what might be in store. Except for the cold, there were no problems. The boat's lights looked so reassuring as we continued through the night. The dark lasted twelve hours. We would change drivers every hour. That meant we changed twelve times. We called it the "night of a thousand watches."

Night travel on the Missouri River. Wind chill around 35 degrees F.

3/15/03 Sat. First light, we passed under the I-70 Bridge near Rocheport, light fog, the water looked like it was gray oil. 7 AM reached Cooper's Landing. No gas available. The dock had washed away and we had to climb out over the rocks. Took showers for $2, got a big breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. The eating area was in a converted garage that served as a bar, community room, concert hall, and dinning room. The rollup door was signed and covered with art from the locals and visiting dignitaries. I resisted the thought of writing something, plus my hands were still cold from the night. Bought a camp shovel that looked usable for digging holes to anchor in sand. The woman who fixed our breakfast was kind and generous with the food. We left Coopers, stuffed, showered, warmed and ready for how far we could get that day. We were getting about 10 MPG with the river current and traveling about 18 MPH at 4300 RPM. That was about 80% the folks at Honda told us and they felt it could run all day at that setting. This would remain the normal speed and mileage for the rest of the trip. Bilge was slowly filling with water, about a sponge's worth every 6 hours. I would try to find the source of the water throughout the trip. About 9 AM we left with the intent of finding gas at Herman, MO. It was a short ride down. We passed Jefferson City, the State Capital, and looked for the bay where we tied up on our trip two years ago. The river was so low now; the rocks making up the dike were well above water and looked more like a wall. I saw the spot I thought was a dike opening during our Nauvoo trip in 2001. I hit the prop on the rocks as we entered, now I was looking at them exposed and realizing they were nasty indeed. Couldn't see the land or log we tied up to. We traveled on. Coming to Herman, the landing is all rock except for the cement ramp. Rocks in the river are a problem. The current will push you into them, the waves will bounce you up and down on them, and the weight of a boat on top of a jagged rock will puncture the hull. So it is not extreme to say rocks are a problem. Down from the ramp, there was a small dock with a walkway. We tied off and took our three 5-gallon gas cans. Herman is a neat river town. Train station and tracks go right along the river. We walked across the tracks and up to a filling station we have used before, only to discover the station had gone out of business. Rule: everything will be different. We tried to look helpless for a few seconds hoping for a ride, but finally we started walking. It was about ten blocks up the hill to the closest station. Carrying our coats and gas cans back proved to be fatiguing. Had to stop a few times, shoulders hurt. The last two blocks, a man stopped and gave us a much-appreciated ride. That was enough exercise, we wanted to get back on the water. The afternoon was bright and pleasant. We were changing drivers often and catching naps in the cabin. Scott got a big bottle of California Almonds; I really liked them. I would take a handful each time I went in the cabin but they didn't keep me awake. As soon as I sat down, I would be asleep. It was getting dark when the Kansas Riverkeeper reached the I-64 Bridge near Chesterfield, MO. This is near the site of the St. Louis Temple built by the LDS Church, the third temple site we have passed on our river trips. These buildings are unique in construction and magnificently built. Their purpose is in teaching a standard that prepares families for living in harmony with supernal values. In each instance, they typify the teachings of Christ. I always feel close to home when I see the temples. We would shift to night speed soon. We were in the St. Louis area and would reach the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi. It was full dark when we crossed over. The current and channel shift could be felt through the boat. We were entering shipping traffic. We had the Missouri River all to our selves, now we would share with bigger boats; in fact, the Riverkeeper was now the smallest. Made our way over to the last down stream lock and dam, Lock #27. There is a big flashing sign that says all boats must enter. The reason is down a few miles are some rock falls that go across the Mississippi River. A small boat would just tumble over the falls. I've seen this from 28,000 feet and it looked big then. There would be no more locks on the Mississippi all the way to the ocean. Passed a few barges in the canal, very unnerving at night in a narrow canal. A barge moves very slowly, like an elephant walking past you. It is okay unless you get in its road, then he just slowly crushes you between the cracks. When you are left in the wake of a barge, that is like walking along a smooth path only to find it suddenly rises up above your head then dashes you down into a deep watery hole. This repeats over and over for about half a mile behind the Tow (a large pagoda-like topped vessel with enormous power). I found that I liked certain styles of Tows, one of my favorites was the large Marquette Tows with a five-story bridge and four engine stacks on the stern. About midnight we got into the lock and we were headed down to the St. Louis Arch. When the lock opened we entered a kind of backwater canal. It was filled with what looked like white ice chunks and lots of flotsam. We passed under the bridges; every building was lit up and looked grand across the water. Fog started to come up towards the south part of the city, so we found a sand bar about 2 AM. Anchored, both of us slept in the cabin till light. It had been 68 hours since either Scott or I had slept consecutively longer than 90 minutes. I would say there was no suffering, both of us were engaged in the endeavor and anticipating new experiences. There were no complaints on the boat, and only mild amusement over events that might be fearful to readers. 3/16/03 Sun St. Louis Morning came and the daily routine was starting to set in. Drying sleeping bags, coats and socks. Tying up lines, mopping out the boat (found small wire ends from the Thursday night electrical marathon each day we cleaned) and cleaning the windows. We do this while slowly moving. It is easier. One drives, the other cleans. That way we don't spend a lot of time on the beach. Food came in the form of nuts, granola bars, fruit, and water. We were trying to beat a storm that was due, reports said it would last three days. We thought if we could get as far south as possible, the temperature effect would cause less suffering to us. We were now headed south; our compass was reading exactly 180 degrees. We were headed for the Gulf. Gasoline is not available on the Missouri and only "sorta" on the Mississippi. We were coming to one of only three fuel docks that we found in over 1562 miles of navigating, Hoppies Marine. No one greeted us at the dock; we tied on to a series of assorted barges with fuel lines running at odd angles. There was a picnic table and some lawn chairs in the middle next to an old B-B-Q. As we walked over one barge, Scott noticed a plaque that said it was manufactured in Leavenworth, Kansas in 1944. On another voyage, we floated past an old wharf near Leavenworth where the barge was probably built. Rule: you always meet someone from home. Walked over to a steep concrete ramp and up to some buildings on the rise. The sun was out and warming the air. A man was sitting at a table in the yard reading the paper. As we approached, another man came up without acknowledging our presence and said to the one reading, "there's a boat at the dock." The man reading got up and walked away (later found out he called up to the house). The man who spoke up asked where we were from and we explained we were from Kansas City going to the Coast. At that point the gentleman took interest and expressed some respect for our project. A woman came up after about 20 minutes with a cash box and keys. She explained that her parents, the owners, had left for the weekend and she was left to take care of things. She said we were early, most did not start down the river this early in the year. We said, yea we had noticed. Fuel capacity is important to the trip, only a few places can a person hike to a town with a gas station. In isolated areas of the river, a walk could be fifty miles and there was no time for such excursions. So I installed a 24-gallon tank at the rear and we carried three 5-gallon cans. With 39 gallons aboard and one in the spare motor, we had an outermost range of about 400 miles. Still, with running at night and passing normal access points, we could get into fuel shortages. If we used all our gas supply, it meant we would have to make several trips to refuel every tank. That would be a lot of walking and time. Our next stop was Cape Girardeau a distance of about 130 miles; it would take a complete refilling of the three 5-gallon cans or one trip to the town. But for now, everything was fueled up and we were off for the Cape. I looked back at the Honda 50, it was purring. I was looking out the window, eating almonds and thinking about the trip. What I had imagined is never close to what actually happens. Those lazy days of gliding along with the river, sun warming your feet on the deck, fresh breeze straightening your hair, nope. Not this time. There is always some compelling force. Have to make 136 miles before dark, fuel stop is closed, navigation light burned out, have to refill in mid-channel, a tow is coming right after the next one. "Working" could be the description of a river trip; there is always some work to be done. It is not like work at home. This work has to be done right now. If you don't you suffer-maybe a lot. But there was a moment today, when I went up front and hung my feet over the bow. I was flying over the water. The sun came out. It was great.

View from inside the cabin looking forward. A lantern inside could heat the cabin to 64 degrees allowing the off-duty crew to defrost.

Cape Girardeau Mostly it was a day of dodging barge traffic.  The large tows would follow each other and made passage somewhat slow for us.  We would creep to the side and try to take the waves on an angle so there was less pounding.  A skill we would need all too soon.  The day was fair weather and we felt we were beating the storm.  When we pulled up to the unattended gas dock (there is one there called Kidd Fuels) next to the Cape Girardeau river walk, we planned to walk up and get gas a few blocks away and hot food.  Another  big nope.  The directions came from a restaurant worker who said the nearest station was eight blocks into town.  Made us uneasy to leave the boat alone for so long.  It was a nice evening and we found a SEMO Station eight blocks away.  This surprised me, because you never get accurate information from people when traveling.  People know what they know, but if you ask them something they don't know, you get strange information.  We only needed two cans of gas; we were getting good mileage.  I asked the attendant if there was a bathroom, she told me yes but it could be scary, "I get a lot of drunks."  While I was gone, Mansker struck up an interesting dialogue with the attendant about drunks she had known.  We stopped at a Subway Sandwich shop.  Back at the boat, it was dark now.  After eating and emptying our trash, we shoved off into another night.  We were headed for Memphis, a long 300 miles down river.  We would not reach Memphis until the next evening.

After a long hike up the hill in Cape Girardeau, Scott Mansker poses with fuel and a drink before heading back to the boat.  (Photo by Russ Payzant)

3/17/03 Mon During Sunday night, Scott managed to follow a barge that led us through the channels, travel was easier that way and he had driven much of the night.  When I came up, it was in the middle of where the Ohio River joins the Mississippi near Cairo.  Very wide and deep, 138 feet was reading of the depth finder.  It was unsettling to see the rolling surface of such deep water at night.  But Scott had been talking to the captains on the radio and had enjoyed the passage.  The motor was running smooth and we were getting some of the miles down, we could reach Memphis that next day.  There was a necessity to our timetable.  The cables on the motor control had bound up and throttle control was limited.  I was concerned that as we used it more, it might gaul and come to a complete stop.  That would be bad.  We began driving without moving the throttle off a set point.  This limited control response and some sense of safety.  Memphis was where we would get fixed.  Just then the navigation light bulb blew out, we were dark on the water.  Luckily, first light was only an hour away.  The barges pulled away and we were left to find our own way through the channel buoys.  The depth finder was showing 145 feet and the image of some large fish.  It was my watch; shiver time lasted about fifteen minutes after coming out of the cabin.  After that, adrenaline would heat us up for the rest of our watch.  As soon as I saw the huge fish on the screen, I began to shiver again.  The weather station on the marine radio was telling of good weather for the day and for that part it was true.  The storm was coming but seemed to be happening to the south.  We knew rain would hit us, but we were not sure how much WIND.  That was our concern.  I would watch the banks and mentally record coves or inlets that would provide shelter.  It seems when you pick a place, as soon as you get around the next bend you find a much better position.  Did I mention the gas?  We were coming to a point that we only had half a tank.  We were living by a mark on a stick we would put in the tank opening.  I had worked half a night trying to hook up a gas gauge to the new tank, in the end it didn't work.  So I cut off a ½" dowel and marked it with a pen.  It became our most important instrument.  Twelve gallons left should be fine, but we weren't in Memphis yet.  Our hope was to get there in time to buy parts so we could leave early the next morning.  Anyway, about 3 PM, we began to see some big buildings, a city.  800 miles we'd come, we were half way to the gulf and tonight we would have showers, hot food, fix the boat, and maybe watch the news. The Two Towers At the gas dock of the Memphis Yacht Club, we found Pam the attendant.  A very nice woman who mentioned she liked our boat.  She said it looked good.  I immediately took her to be an intelligent person.  We fuel up and called a local retailer, Jack Carter, who said he had our cables and would bring them down to the dock at 5:00, they would only cost $100.  I borrowed a few tools and within an hour our boat was fixed and working better than we could remember.  We buttoned it up in the transit slip, and on the advice of Pam walked up to the Skywalk to cross over the marina into town.

Docked in Memphis after making repairs.  The folks at Memphis Yacht Club were very friendly and helpful.

When we got to the gate, it was closed.  But there was a stair well that was open.  Carrying our bags and coats, we climbed the five stories to the top.  The door was locked.  We thought, "did the door lock when we entered the stair well?"  Back down, ah, the door opened.  We did not want to sleep in that stair well.  Went back up to the fourth floor and found an escalator to the gated Skywalk.  Mansker suggested we climb around the gate, which was a simple act of climbing outside on a vertical pipe, five stories above the concrete road.  Shinny around a chain link fence and through the bars.  I thought, ". . . seems reasonable."    I climbed out first; I didn't want to explain to Christy why her husband was planted in Memphis.  We made it with all our bags and walked the half-mile to the other side.  There, another 5-story tower led to the ground and a gate to the sidewalks of Memphis.  Yep, it was locked too.  Would not open until April.  We didn't have that kind of time.  Two stories up, we looked over the edge of a balcony to the ground.  Too far down, might break a leg or more.  Started looking around for rope, pipe, or ladders.  There were two ladders, but only 10-foot long.  We had about 30 feet to drop.  We roamed around inside the tower; construction was going on, there were some offices, bathrooms, concession spaces, and electrical contractor's equipment.  Scott said he was going to use the bathroom and try to think of a solution for getting out of the tower.  The only exit was a roll-up steel bar curtain.  Scott would have to think hard to solve that problem.    As I was waiting, I leaned up against a small yellow scaffold.  There were other parts of one on the floor.  I counted the end pieces-might be enough.  I hauled the end pieces out to the balcony and started to fit them together.  When Scott came around the corner, he figured it out instantly and helped me assemble the last section.  Lifting it over the side was the hard part.  I could see the whole thing pivot on the ledge and take both of us over.  It almost did.  But it reached to the ground and came high enough that one could steady it at the top.  I better go first.  I climbed over the side; the scaffold ends have bars and kind of looked like a wide ladder.  At the joint parts though, I could see everything bend.  Scaffolds are not meant to be assembled in this way.  I started down, only to realize we would hate to miss such a picture for our kids.  I climbed back up and got the video camera from Mansker, he only shook his head as he handed it over the edge.  Once down, it was Scott's turn to go over.  I yelled up to him to wait while I got a picture of him.  I should tell you that we were escaping out of the tower onto a main street with a signal intersection 50 feet away.  So there is Scott hanging over the balcony on a yellow scaffold, holding bags, posing for a picture, in a lighted intersection with stretch limos looking back at us.  It was an obvious case of "breaking and exiting."  But we really wanted that shower and hot meal.  We walked across the street to the Comfort Inn.  No rooms.  Memphis was having a concert that night.  Finally, a man wearing many gold chains and many bracelets, driving a huge Lincoln Town Car, took us to another hotel across town.  Had a long hot shower, clean clothes, a great hamburger, and fell asleep. 3/18/03 Tue  at Memphis We walked back to the boat, the long way.  Looked at a historical display of the original Memphis Belle (B-17 bomber) from WWII.  Down to the dock and away we went, listening to a CD we liked and pointed south at African Queen speed.  If you remember the 1951 Humphrey Bogart movie "The African Queen," the old boat just chugged around about 6 mph.  That's what we call the cleanup and sort-everything-out speed.  When we get underway, the wind will blow things out of the boat.  The wave motion will cause a ride that can unexpectedly tip you over; you have to hang on.  Sorting things out is not the kind of thing you can do underway.  Movements and actions are limited to large-motor skill activities.  Just unscrewing the top of an almond jar can produce mixed emotions.  Clipping your fingernails could open an artery.   I was standing next to the console while Scott was driving.  Hanging onto the canopy bars made the spot a comfortable perch.  The wind was cold but we bought some heavy-duty rain gear, they were yellow with pants and hooded tops.  These were rubber-like with nylon lining.  We wore them everyday and they worked well protecting from wind and water.  I was looking at the bank and watching the water spraying off the boat as we traveled.  It is odd how a river always looks straight to you, with bends ahead and behind.  But it always seems to be a straight line that you're running.  Another thing was the whirlpools.  We were seeing large ones now, deep water and large whirlpools.  Some would measure 40 feet across and had a definite center depression that opened like a great sucking maw.  If you were not in a boat with a strong motor, I do not think you could get away from some I saw.  I looked on the depthfinder, a Hummingbird 200 DX, and it showed deep holes (80-90 feet) just where the swirlies were.  When the strong current swept over these deep depressions, I guess it set up eddies that would form permanent vortexes.  Some places the bottom of the river is as flat as your kitchen table, in other places there are deep waves of ground like humps on a camel.  And then, the ones I hate, are big long things that stick up almost to the surface.  We don't know what they are, but they look like poles on the screen.  I don't know what would stick up 60 feet, 2-foot diameter, two feet below the surface, in the middle of a huge river-but it doesn't look good.  Mansker finds great books by other travelers of the Mississippi.  One in particular recalled a man with a go-fast boat out running on a smooth day.  He said he heard a kind of click sound and his power seemed to drop off.  He raised his motor and found the entire lower-unit was gone, it was just not there anymore.  I always remember that story in a dark humor sort of way.   Kept checking the weather reports, threatening storms would begin in the evening.  About three o'clock a warning of tornadoes and 85-mph winds was broadcast for the Greenville/Vicksburg area.  We were coming to that area.  Started looking for a cove or inlet we could take cover in.  I was driving and kick the motor up to 5200 RPM, we were flying at 26 MPH and only the rear box was in the water.  Water was like glass, the calm before the storm?  I didn't know what 85-mph winds would do, but I was pretty sure the boat would be lost if it came.  We found a small indent on the east bank; it was sandy with some trees.  We put in, dug a place for the tent behind a sand berm, pulled the boat as far as possible on land, anchored one end and tied to a tree on the other.  We set up the best we could not knowing what would come.  Radio said it had revised to 45-mph winds.  That was a relief.  Began to rain and thunder.  We ate soup and crackers.  Slept off and on and finally at 4 AM I asked Scott if he was awake.  He said he had been awake and I replied "let's go."  We rolled up the tent, gathered in the gear, tried to clean off as much sand as possible.  Sand can really make small boat travel uncomfortable.  Mansker was driving; he has a good eye for night navigation.  It was stormy and waves on the river made our progress slow.  A taste of what the rest of the day would be. 3/19/03 Wed near a sand island (Wind)Early in the day, the wind came up.  This started to cause waves in the long stretches going with the wind.  Down the channel, the waves were coming at a frequency that began to pound the boat hard.  There was no where to go and we had miles of the pounding before we reached a bend.  As we would go up and then come down hard, it would cause a shudder in the console and awning bars.  This type of stress bends metal and breaks wood.  I was afraid we might break a key part, there weren't many parts to our boat that were not key.  We traded driving, but not often.  We were fighting white caps and rough conditions.  There were streams of foam blowing down the river and that is usually a sign of hazardous conditions for small craft.  Another sign was that we were the only boat out there.  It was slow going, there was a concern now that we might not make it all the way to our goal.  We wanted to be able to say we had done it all.  And stopping the journey at Natchez was just not the same.  It would be hard to come back and complete it later.  But the days were numbered and we had a long way to go.

Wind whipping the Mississippi.  Pictures don't do it justice.  Some of these waves had us out of the water.  It was brutal.

Scott had the first hours of the wind, and I felt it must have been draining on him, although it seemed there was no safe place to change drivers.  Each foot saw ever increasing waves.  We were tossing around like a bobber.  We hit a little space where the waves diminished.  I took over.  After a while we tried to get near the bank where the waves were less.  At times, we had to cross over to the other side of the river.  This was very alarming to venture back out to the middle.  We found a little technique of driving fast through the trough of several waves, like surfers shooting a curl.  If we timed it just right, we could clip the top of a big wave, down into the trough and shoot length-wise across for a good distance before the next wave hits.  But the risk of shooting this trough was placing ourselves sideways to the force of the waves.  At one point, we were able to clear many waves and reach the bank before being pounded.  It was a relief.  We had many miles to go and no sign of dropping wind.  I determined that if there was even two feet, I was staying near the bank.  If we foundered, we could reach the shore and the smaller waves let us gain some miles.  This continued all day and only slightly dropped off when we reached Vicksburg, where we turned up the Yazoo River.   Vicksburg It was about 4:30 when we tied to the city dock.  It was a concrete ramp with three short slips.  We had to park head on to the dock and tie off from the stern.   Scott's in-laws, Clay and Ruthann Moore met us and took us to get gas and have dinner.  They live in Jackson, Miss. About 40 minutes away.  After eating Clay took us to see the battle ground where the siege of Vicksburg was fought during the Civil War.  There was a large land battle that I was not aware of; I always thought the river gunboats of the North blockaded the town.  Was amazing history that still lives in these towns.  The Moores were very kind to us and willingly offered to help us the following day.  They dropped us off at the dock and said good-bye.   I felt uneasy because it was getting dark and we had been away from the boat a long time.  There was no security at the dock and it was in a back part of the city.  We had planned to stay the night at the Harris hotel but when we got back to the boat, we found the switches all turned in odd ways.  I felt someone had been aboard.  There were a couple of old cars on the road, and two men above, Scott said he could hear them talking about the boat.  We inventoried our belongings.  Nothing was missing but this left a very uneasy feeling about leaving the boat alone.  We thought one of us could sleep on board, then just decided to leave and travel again at night.  Started up the Honda, turned on our equipment, and made our way down the Yazoo, many trees floating in the channel.   We only traveled about two hours when, on my watch, a tow captain came over the radio and asked if we had radar and if we knew the river in this area.  I told him we were just passing through and did not have radar.  He recommended that we hold up in a backwater nearby until light.  He said it could be very dangerous for a boat our size.  We anchored in a small pond behind a stand of trees and slept until light. 3/20/03 Thursday (Wind) Got up and moving about 5:30 AM, about two hours later we came to Natchez, no dock, tied to four trees in a small depression on the east bank.  Waited in Natchez for the wind to die until about 4 PM.  During the time we waited, we visited the Under the Hill Saloon.  It is owned by a man named Andrea, who we read about in Mark Knudson's book.  We introduced ourselves and told him we were coming from Kansas City going to the Ocean.  He said we could use the shower and wash our clothes and after we rested he would take us to get gas.  He showed us around town and was a fine example of a southern gentleman.  We had a wonderful time resting and cleaning things up.  The shower was hot.  And I had a great hamburger at the Magnolia Grill.  Loved looking at the old pictures of the very spot we were standing.  Riverboats all lined up at the bank; the building I was standing in was there next to the steamboat.  This Under the Hill saloon has been there since the days of Jim Bowie, who made his famous knife near here.  This is also the road, Natchez Trace, on which Meriwether Lewis came to his unfortunate end.  At 3:00 the wind was still up, flags out straight, but we headed down to the boat to get ready.  Fueled up and cleaned a few things before warming up the motor.  Scott untied the four lines and we back out to the river.  As we slowly past the ramp, Andrea was standing there and waved to us with his hand in the sign of "OK."  We liked him for that, he meant the boat.  We started down river, still had to hug the sides to avoid waves in the channel.  We were making good time, we had caught up to our schedule and if we reached Baton Rouge in the AM, we would make it all the way with time to go to the ocean.   Towards 3 or 4 AM we decided to rest and found a tree sticking out from the bank about 30 feet.  Down stream there was open water so we tied off with a bowline knot and hung off the tree about ten feet in the current.  The boat acted like a kite slipping back and forth.  It actually worked pretty well and we could handle waves from barge traffic safely.  The "kite tie-off maneuver" would become a standard river option for the future.  I laid down on my pad, pulled up the sleeping bag and I was gone.  Suddenly I heard what sounded like a rock hitting the water.  I thought someone was on the bank tossing in large rocks at us.  I got up (not easy inside of a sleeping bag) and fumbled for the light.  I shinned it on the bank but no one was there.  KERR-PLOP, this time I saw the splash but no one else around.  Then I saw what looked like a leaf floating up steam.  I thought, "how could it do that?"  Scott woke up and said one word, "beaver."  We both went back to sleep for a while.  Still dark, we got up, untied our kite string and slip down the river.

Night crawling our way to Baton Rouge.

3/21/03 Fri  passing New Orleans In the morning we were looking downriver when all of a sudden that old phrase was heard, "What the heck is that?"  It was huge and the color of burnt red.  It seemed to have a white building on top.  We were used to seeing the large tow vessels, but this was many times larger.  Closer, it was an ocean going cargo ship.  We were going to make it.  As we came to Baton Rouge, there were many ocean vessels now.  The rest of the day, we were in between tow barges and sea-going freighters.  The freighters were so large, they would flatten out the water behind them.  I tried to follow because it made smoother travel.  Seemed like a good idea, but I was missing a key element that would be revealed later that day.   I had been trying to catch up to a large orange tanker that had long cylinders on the deck.  The lettering on the stern seemed to be Russian.  Other traffic would cut us off, and the waves would keep us from moving fast enough to stay with the huge ships.  Finally we got behind the orange tanker, I was resolute about staying.  No one would cut us off again.  I planned to stay there all the way to the ocean.  We were just a little gray tail a 150 yards back of this floating behemoth.  Things were going great, no waves, no one cutting in, all the large ships getting out of our way.  I began to wave at others passing by.  I felt so comfortable I even waved at the red Coast Guard helicopter as it flew past.  It was then that I noticed the side door was open and a crewman sat there with what looked like a weapon.  Odd.  But then we were in Louisiana.  I looked back at the big ship and noticed a Coast Guard Patrol boat pull around to the left then straightened up on a heading towards us.  Sure seemed like lots was happening in New Orleans.  We were just off the down town bridge.  Then I noticed the Coast Guard's flashing blue light and they were slowing down in front of us.  The helicopter was back too.

Letting one of the big boys "block" for us near New Orleans.  We didn't feel that this was too close...

This could only mean one thing, they saw Mansker wasn't wearing his floatation device.  As the power launch pull along side, they had to lower their bumpers to reach us.  They tied on and informed us we were about to be boarded by the US Coast Guard and we were to declare if we had weapons or explosives.  We welcomed them aboard and answered their questions.  They inspected the boat and said everything was in order.  They told us they were on heightened alert; they'd received a call from the tanker, who was afraid that the small boat following them were terrorists.  We were instructed to avoid following tankers.  When we told them we were from Kansas City and trying to go all the way to the coast, there was that look again that said "well, that's different."  They asked who built the boat.  We talked a little then they had to move off.  We took their picture.

Coast Guard prepares to board and inspect us.  Not finding any bombs, they checked our paperwork and wished us luck.

We continued around the bend but the waves were very large.  Looking for fuel, no gas.  It was getting dark, we had 70 miles to go.  Didn't know what the channel would be like in the dark.  It wasn't very friendly in the light.  We decided to try and find some protection from the shipping wakes and put up for the night.  All we could find was a small bay formed by willows that grew out in the channel.  When the wake came in, the willows would break the motion enough that we could ride it out.  We felt this might work after testing a few ships that went by.  We tied off to some willows on the front and hooked our anchor to a tree at the rear.  This faced us into the swells and we rode out the night that way.  Fixed hot meal of Beanie Weenies over a Sterno stove.  We announced that this was the last night aboard and our last meal on the water.  We toasted our good fortune with peaches and listened to the news on the radio.  Got in our sleeping bags to warm up.  New visitors-misquotes.   3/22/03 Sat First light, pulled in the lines and started up the 2 hp Honda.  The bay was only a foot or so deep and we thought to use the little motor to get out to the channel.  Worked great until we reached the navigable area.  I put it up and Scott fired up the 50.  The Honda 50 had worked without a peep.  It was smooth, quiet, reliable, and always ready.  It has proved to be a very strong motor.  It did need gas though and we were about one gallon short of making it to the Venice Marina.  We found a ferry that was working next to a town.  There was a levee and we thought we could see buildings.  I parked next to a log and some grass, while Scott walked into town with one of the gas cans.  He came back in about 20 minutes and we were off.   The rest of the way was just quiet reflection of what we had done.  We had made it, over 1562 miles down two of the world's greatest rivers.  We built a boat and came from the middle of the nation by river.  Pulled into Venice Marina about noon.  The dockhands were impressed and bought us lunch.  Spent the afternoon cleaning out the boat.  Cy and George found the marina and brought the truck around.  We took our gear to a cabin we rented for the night.  Then, while George and Cy went to get some lunch, Scott and I took the boat for the last leg.  We left the marina area and headed to Pilottown, a few miles south.  Just a mile or so from there was the Post with the marker "Mile 0" the end of the Mississippi River.  We wanted to complete every mile so we continued down South Pass all the way to the Light House and from there out into the Gulf.  We could see oil platforms on the horizon.  We were there.  Many feelings, but mostly a pleasant sense of having accomplished a most hardy adventure.  One not commonly taken.

Approaching Pilottown

Russ at Mile 0We headed back up the channel and got in about dusk.  Put the boat on the trailer and hauled her up to the cabin.  She had done well and brought us all the way.  George was impressed that we had built it ourselves.  After, we took George and Cy to dinner; had a shrimp plate and a big platter of boiled Crawfish.  Waitress showed us how to open them; Scott turned them around on the plate.  Said he didn't like them looking at him.  Turned in and slept on a bed with sheets.  Left at 6 AM for Kansas City 18 hours away.  George, who lives in St. Louis, and Cy, who lives on Lake of the Ozarks, were great friends to come all the way to get us and ride back together in Scott's truck.

George (right) shakes hands with Russ in the Venice Marina.  Grampa congratulates Scott and Russ. The Kansas Riverkeeper is loaded onto her trailer after 1600 miles in 8 days.  Drying some gear at the cabin in Venic.  Tomorrow, we head for home, but tonight, we suck crawfish heads.

A note: When I called home, I was asked the question, "aren't you guys sick of each other being in that small boat for so long?"  I thought, "no, in fact I only felt greater admiration and respect for my friend's resourcefulness, and courage."  Scott Mansker comes from good stock.  Not many people can make such a trip, and certainly few could make it as much fun. 3/23/03 Sun Preparation list for the trip 12/02 Begin gathering gear together, sort out what we only have to have. Light-as-possible (PREPARE FOR RAIN) Must have: waterproof everything (tools: large adjustable wrench, 7/16, ½, 9/16, screwdrivers, WD40, prop socket, electrical tester, tape, duct tape, nuts, screws, spark plugs, pliers, dikes, spark plug wrench, line, lighter ), cleaning towels/sponges, bucket, hose, log book,  Shelter: tent, fire, fuel, sleeping bags, pads, shovel/hammer, heater/lamp flash light, Nice to have: maps, clothing (warm), towels, kit, food/water (tuna, dry pack, tear-eat), cooking gear, many Velcro straps, heatwraps, sunglasses, hat, hotwater-maker, book, camera, charger, tape, water proof container-wide mouth gar, Boat Must have: spare motor Honda 2HP $800, filters, oil, spare prop, paddles, hook, pole, tools, ropes, anchors, sealer, epoxy, pump, scoop, funnel, lights, GPS, fix depth finder, boat papers, engine warranty, locks, life vests, spare battery, firstaid kit (advil, decongestants, antiseptic, Band-Aids, wipes, sunblock, bugspray), raincoats, spare bulbs/fuses, tarps and covers, wire guy lines for tarp, clear vinyl covers? fuel containers at least 3 five-gallon, cell phone, seat cushions, Jobs to do: epoxy new covers, install shell, make attachment brackets, make windows, seal around shell, install seat, re bolt transom, sealer under box, make rubber plug for bilge hole, paint new covers, redo wiring and connectors, adding lights and access plugs, install bumper hooks, sideboards,  Check under for any sign of cracks, mark tac at 41 RPM, epoxy side box and seal tube,  Test and install depthfinder (new).  Front cover.

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