Boatbuilders

You can never have too many boats. At Rivermiles, we justify the existence of each boat by inventing races and events where we have to use them. This has worked so far and has kept Russ busy building at least one boat every year. Here's the current fleet.

To All Our Former Riverbelles—we invite you to email your recollections or comments about the voyage you took on the Missouri River. We’d like to hear your stories and we might publish them on this website with your permission. Go to the “Guys” page and obtain either of the captain’s email address. Send your favorite picture too. Weren’t they great trips!!!

"HOW WE GOT STARTED IN BOATS"

My first impression of boats came when I was five-years old, my mother who took me across the San Francisco Bay on one of the old ferryboats. I still remember the enormous “walking beam” that would rise up and down turning the huge paddlewheels. I loved to look at the wake behind the boat; it was all so grand. But the most memorable thing was the ship when it came into the wharf and fit just so into the pier with waves splashing above the cars.

I had no boat mentor. I just tried to build one every time my brother and I could find wood. Our first one, that floated, was when I was about nine-years old in San Jose, Ca. It lasted just one great afternoon. Since then, I’ve made and sailed in a few different kinds. My brother became a sailing ship captain and I have sailed with him on the Pacific and the Caribbean. He took it to a new level.

During the last few years, after meeting Scott Mansker, he and I built a number of river craft. We have traveled thousands of miles on rivers. But the Gulf trip was the greatest, I will never forget.

My most frightening river experience was the 'night of fog.’ We were coming down the Mississippi from Wisconsin in the Riverkeeper; the trip had been about 500 miles. We decided to travel all night instead of making camp. Later, heavy fog filled the Mississippi low lands and visibility was 6-feet with a light. We continued in the early morning hours in this wet cloudy thing. Even the heavy tow barges tied up to trees. We crept down many miles by feeling our way with nothing more than a depth finder and GPS. Scott and I were alone on the river, pitch dark and heavy fog. Hours of looking through these ghostly images made by our lone headlamp caused some odd views, the river current went one direction, the fog another. A dam, a barge, another boat, or rocks, it could have been curtains. The Riverkeeper with its small battery was our life line. Then we saw a small light in the dark, a ramp, and a bathroom. We found a safe harbor.

- By Russ Payzant