tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-177478602024-03-12T20:15:21.928-07:00Wilderness Travels By CanoeCanoeing and kayaking around the the world. A place to talk about my passion for paddle sports, history, wilderness and outdoor recreation.
Canoe Canoe!Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-63080938807467255062008-11-23T10:04:00.000-08:002008-11-23T12:51:30.564-08:00<div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">Part 9: The End: Orifino Idaho to the</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;"> Pacific Ocean. Oh the joy! Sept 2004.</span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJIV5PNBZGM_mEhQg2hKG-C6ST3tVSWx1PGHPyPg66B9lejscvMnqDtB_38LlhmcBEIXN0wE0n-UP-MJImvFceqA3PrumF6gqZ-kJgi1m7mfLTeliGf2TCBHw_-QEaK6b46SP/s1600-h/e64.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271925305194102770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJIV5PNBZGM_mEhQg2hKG-C6ST3tVSWx1PGHPyPg66B9lejscvMnqDtB_38LlhmcBEIXN0wE0n-UP-MJImvFceqA3PrumF6gqZ-kJgi1m7mfLTeliGf2TCBHw_-QEaK6b46SP/s400/e64.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Me with Ocean vessel along the Columbia River.</span></div><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 27, 1805"All the men able to work comenced building 5 canoes, several taken sick at work, our hunters returned sick without meet." Wm Clark ( Canoe Camp at Ahsahka, Idaho)</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 2, 1805"We have nothing to eate but roots, which give the men violent pains in the bowels after eating much of them." Wm Clark</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 5, 1805"had all our horses 38 in number collected and branded…delivered them to the 2 brothers and one son of one of the Chiefs who intends to accompany us down the river…they promised to be attentive to our horses untill we should return." Wm Clark</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 10, 1805"having passed two islands & six rapids several of them verry bad after viewg this riffle two canoes were taken over verry well; the third stuck on a rock which took us an hour to get her off which was effected withour rececing a greater injurey than a small split on her side which we repaired in a short time." Wm Clark</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 15, 1805"passed thro narrows for 3 miles where the clifts of rocks juted to the river on each side compressing the water of the river through a narrow chanel…" Wm Clark</span></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz63kpFzfENulQLv8dp5mDgMrHauC_kMKRX_1fClsvguKXSWEj4hcm4ZeURr3Z7msoAs2uAs3aa3ha1FmfuXie7sAYpaYnKlW50PjYndkdP38UlpWzkWi6zB6ne23jQHXLBo3d/s1600-h/e1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271925302650732898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz63kpFzfENulQLv8dp5mDgMrHauC_kMKRX_1fClsvguKXSWEj4hcm4ZeURr3Z7msoAs2uAs3aa3ha1FmfuXie7sAYpaYnKlW50PjYndkdP38UlpWzkWi6zB6ne23jQHXLBo3d/s400/e1.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Evening along the Clearwater River.</span></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="font-size:100%;">I put my boat back in on the Clearwater River in Orofino last Wednesday. The 40 mile section to Lewiston was extremely fast and intimidating. The current moved along about 10 mph in places and I could see the boulders underneath me go speeding by. Almost every bend contained some sort of riffle or rapids. At times the waves crashed into my bow and washed over top my boat and myself. Large standing waves seem small from a distance but upon cutting through them I realized these were some of the biggest waves I have ever been in. I was very nervous as I worked my way downstream for fear of upsetting in one of the tall waves. The rapids were difficult to scout ahead since steep banks lined both sides of the river. One set of rapids lasted for 1/2 a mile with large boils and whirlpools swirling around the edges of the current. I was careful to avoid getting drawn away from the main current and into them. </span></p><div align="center"></span> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgngKDFeqPZgrQGyvATqnxk2HX-33brZKeCV325CQaJ5GabgkNhNNAObe-5cci57gl0XYuRmWm5t3p52Kemb6EcSvJp6cq1aD89WELTV7G3JGwsLlEeB3bNa1SGlxp2q3u1iEZo/s1600-h/e2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271925301553818530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgngKDFeqPZgrQGyvATqnxk2HX-33brZKeCV325CQaJ5GabgkNhNNAObe-5cci57gl0XYuRmWm5t3p52Kemb6EcSvJp6cq1aD89WELTV7G3JGwsLlEeB3bNa1SGlxp2q3u1iEZo/s400/e2.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: High hills along the Snake River. </span></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">After two days of fast water I began to feel the presence of the slack water above the first dam. Between Lewiston and Clarkston (notice the names) the Clearwater meets the mighty Snake River. The river lacks any noticeable current and becomes 1/4 to 1/2 mile wide. Giant hills and bluffs border both sides of the river some rising over 1000 feet in places. The high hills and banks are void of trees; in fact I can count the number of trees that I have seen in 5 days on two hands. Layers of black columnar basalt make up most of the hillsides. These ancient lava flows are the only reminder of the Snakes ancient pre history. Lewis and Clark encountered many Indians along the river all were very friendly and eager to trade salmon for whatever they could get. When they passed through here in 1805 there were many rapids which are now drowned out by the dams. They had a difficult time handling their large dugout canoes often tipping over or slamming into rocks causing them to leak.</span></p><div align="center"></span> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDQW-tBIYF4w59K8WqzsMZPpxy11odhWHdvh5UcuM6zw6PI13u4ZBkbjd-k9EITnOiFyxnRV8jmQmsWxsI6shZYnpwgeRSulLcpAgmI9EltZRML8tsYGJQhlPvrPY5BPF2wQd/s1600-h/e3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271925292107578914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDQW-tBIYF4w59K8WqzsMZPpxy11odhWHdvh5UcuM6zw6PI13u4ZBkbjd-k9EITnOiFyxnRV8jmQmsWxsI6shZYnpwgeRSulLcpAgmI9EltZRML8tsYGJQhlPvrPY5BPF2wQd/s400/e3.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Sunflowers and fall temperatures greeted me.<br /></span><br /></div><div align="left">It feels good knowing I'm within a few weeks of reaching the Pacific but sad in a way knowing this incredible experience is drawing to a close. It may take me a long to before I can ever describe my feelings fully on paper. It often seems like a dream when I look back at the start of my journey. In fact I do believe it all began as one such dream over thirty years ago as a child growing up in Northern Michigan. I guess for some of us it takes almost 1/2 a lifetime to make them come true. My late friend Verlen Kruger once told me " If you can dream it, you can do it". I guess you're right Verlen.</div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdyPEtd9_yv5p1Gs8tShibYREy63_3hMgbumD4hynwsEesdU7DI2Fgqo1KxejpcP3tHgXvBGCny_EEBZLK6x8FIEo-imNDX_SJMIydLAezUSfPusy95Qpr9hPKymEqxfSyX_EQ/s1600-h/e5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271925292108236338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdyPEtd9_yv5p1Gs8tShibYREy63_3hMgbumD4hynwsEesdU7DI2Fgqo1KxejpcP3tHgXvBGCny_EEBZLK6x8FIEo-imNDX_SJMIydLAezUSfPusy95Qpr9hPKymEqxfSyX_EQ/s400/e5.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Dam (damn) portage along the Snake River.</span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_pvfI-ZxAgeaiTqwvbDkTgaKLYD1XnEglHmjFasi_-nO6ALPH20E_H72XjlImpaEeAs5DAWv16_8_e3i7kZXSh5dE1NqHfdyCd_b06xMCEjezRODI-Vu3ybKaoKDS_4BhEiq/s1600-h/e6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271924348635596962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_pvfI-ZxAgeaiTqwvbDkTgaKLYD1XnEglHmjFasi_-nO6ALPH20E_H72XjlImpaEeAs5DAWv16_8_e3i7kZXSh5dE1NqHfdyCd_b06xMCEjezRODI-Vu3ybKaoKDS_4BhEiq/s400/e6.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Portaging a mile around this dam in the heat.<br /></span></div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 19, 1805"passed 20 lodges of Indians scattered allong the Stard. Side drying fish & prickley pear to burn in winter. I went on shore in a small canoe a head, landed at the first 5 lodges, found the Indians much fritened..." Wm Clark...</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">"P. Crusat played on the violin which pleased and astonished those reches who are badly clad, 3/4 with robes not half large enough to cover them..." Wm. Clark</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 23, 1805"I preceeded on to the river and struck it at the foot of a verry consdierable rapid, here I beheld an emence body of water compressd in a narrow chanel of about 200 yards in width, fomeing over rocks maney of which presented their tops above the water..." Wm Clark</span></em><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-CTSmFmu4t_2FAzTrDHQX1VneNHOwVynKA2Ek3tOduPgx-0-njb75si52GzNbGk3R5wsMyHTt6tAUosUqKtIGKlremuk2qH8yOTu6AEewBll6sPDPo4rGb6qEh972aoEoL3I/s1600-h/e7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271924350689200498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-CTSmFmu4t_2FAzTrDHQX1VneNHOwVynKA2Ek3tOduPgx-0-njb75si52GzNbGk3R5wsMyHTt6tAUosUqKtIGKlremuk2qH8yOTu6AEewBll6sPDPo4rGb6qEh972aoEoL3I/s400/e7.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Self portrait.<br /></span><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">His voice called out "can you come over here and help me?" The lone fisherman was seated in his boat as I paddled over towards him. Our boats bobbed up and down in the waves as the evening sun was nearing the horizon. I couldn't imagine what kind of help I could offer. At first I thought he had engine problems but as I paddled up next to his boat I could see he was in an unusual situation. He had a fairly large fish still hooked to his large florescent green lure and also his forearm was hooked by the other triple hook at the opposite end of the lure. He couldn't remove the fish since he had only one free hand which was used to keep the fish from moving and causing the hook to get embedded deeper into his arm. The hook was completely buried and was obviously not going to be removed by him or myself. He handed the fish over to me and then handed me a pair of pliers to remove the hook from the fish while he held the buried hook steady to keep it from moving. I managed to remove the fish and tossed it back into the river as both of our boats bobbed about in the steady waves. Once the fish was free, the large lure dangled freely from his forearm. I told him he should probably have a doctor remove it since it was obvious it had penetrated through some of his tendons. I think he was in a mild state of shock since the paid no attention to me as he sped away at full throttle creating a wake that nearly flipped me over. I think that this situation was the 1st time in my entire journey that I was able to help someone instead of people always helping me. I was glad I was able to save his day. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">On Thursday I finally reached the mighty Columbia River. It's this body of water that will carry me to my final destination. It is the largest river so far excluding the reservoirs on the Missouri. I am very apprehensive about paddling it too. High winds constantly blow along the wide channel creating large waves which could easily capsize a small craft. These high winds welcomed me on Saturday as I tried to reach Boardman, Oregon where my friend Todd Hanna was to meet me and camp for the night. Large breaking waves were hitting me from the side and I became fairly wet in a hurry. I never made it to Boardman but was within walking distance. I set up my tent and put on some dry clothes and headed towards town along a nearby dirt road to meet Todd. The route took me 2 hours but I managed to find him after being there only ½ an hour. I had not seen him in 3 years so it was good to catch up on life. I will be staying with him, his wife Deb and daughter Madison once I reach Hood River about 100 miles away. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="center">Very few trees align the banks of the Columbia. The hills have turned a golden yellow giving the landscape a texture of autumn. I remember back in March and April when the vegetation was just beginning to bud out as spring arrived. The drab colors soon became greener as each new day arrived. Now, after 6-months I can begin to feel the chill in the air, see the dieing flowers and grasses, and notice the shortness of each new day. Those long days of paddling till 8pm are long gone. I am typically setting up my tent about 6pm and ready for the sleeping bag about 7:30pm.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReU9loM99N1kPUr5xnwBpZXnJbZGpwIcbe1Ww6Zc3ycVkkv61ccL8jt5TqtiB6sW28ipcex9z8aJVWAnv1XyImEBh9wWslhgQuhlvQb3gW2UjWs5gD0yS4eCO_hT0taIlXKBn/s1600-h/e8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271924345574400130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReU9loM99N1kPUr5xnwBpZXnJbZGpwIcbe1Ww6Zc3ycVkkv61ccL8jt5TqtiB6sW28ipcex9z8aJVWAnv1XyImEBh9wWslhgQuhlvQb3gW2UjWs5gD0yS4eCO_hT0taIlXKBn/s400/e8.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Locking through a damn dam.</span><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24P7QxS2t7ea2T_8r-sfrbcvxHv0lhmzPCiv8GVmmTCtwC7KmgCphGPZev2S66ZIc9x7o4-OA8prq0rDtTKFKGGXJHsbmDZhdHUFEVJNxDniSbyHjXAeIT_P_vlf2Kl8dDA-K/s1600-h/e9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271924339728093714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 315px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24P7QxS2t7ea2T_8r-sfrbcvxHv0lhmzPCiv8GVmmTCtwC7KmgCphGPZev2S66ZIc9x7o4-OA8prq0rDtTKFKGGXJHsbmDZhdHUFEVJNxDniSbyHjXAeIT_P_vlf2Kl8dDA-K/s400/e9.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Looking back where I just left from. Glad those huge doors didn't break</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">and come crashing down.<br /></span><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn49nbHwIRx7LWhkBpUrVKvI-f0Wl9IICVOdv1OhfRyAVcOykr39MH3ImBfZXMaoDD2UfmN25fBIO9MHQYVXFbc_8DKXPLqy2fTwYX_fCHy6IbpSLEAafYrNeIWUsZU7y3s4Q6/s1600-h/e10.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271924333598599026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn49nbHwIRx7LWhkBpUrVKvI-f0Wl9IICVOdv1OhfRyAVcOykr39MH3ImBfZXMaoDD2UfmN25fBIO9MHQYVXFbc_8DKXPLqy2fTwYX_fCHy6IbpSLEAafYrNeIWUsZU7y3s4Q6/s400/e10.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: It was great when I was allowed to lock through the dam.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Nothing like wasting 40-million gallons of water to lower me and my little boat 90 feet.<br /></span><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyUVdJlEmyAFLpq1We0zoQBExIJziBhO-3BsNitHmwTnlFFsOM0JA1QKCq8FzFYgmI_Syo15Mo6V3zthyphenhyphenQAQJy4X5HaTP9WxzH48OzoxRuUujVrOgD7hiyy2FLcrIb-yrkqO8/s1600-h/e12.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271923556922816290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyUVdJlEmyAFLpq1We0zoQBExIJziBhO-3BsNitHmwTnlFFsOM0JA1QKCq8FzFYgmI_Syo15Mo6V3zthyphenhyphenQAQJy4X5HaTP9WxzH48OzoxRuUujVrOgD7hiyy2FLcrIb-yrkqO8/s400/e12.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Somewhere U.S.A.</span><br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"> A shower of rain early this morning kept me from departing till 8am. The river looked promising at being able to make 30-miles. After a few hours the wind instantly began to howl. Within minutes the entire river was foaming with whitecaps as I struggled to maintain my speed. As my bow lifted high in the water as a new wave approached it would soon slam down into the next incoming wave. I felt like I was riding on a titter-totter. I quickly spotted a small sandy bay and worked my way to its protection. Just above the beach was an ample flat space large enough for my tent, even though it was exposed to the high winds. Broken chunks of basalt rock lay about like giant chess pieces intermingled with dead grass and brush. From my vantage point I can see entirely across the mile and a half wide river. Huge waves roll upstream and I am glad to be in a safe dry place. All the along the river Lewis and Clark encountered my friendly Indian lodges. Today there is no evidence of their villages only the Union Pacific Railroad on the north side and the Burlington Northern Railroad and the Interstate highway on the south shore. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Along a faint deer trail I saw what looked like an ancient hiding place for a lone Indian hunter. This tiny rock enclosure would easily conceal a hunter in pursuit of game. It now stands as a reminder to the people who once lived along this mighty river. Three more dams separate me from the rivers end and my journeys end. It's been a long event filled 6-months. I've met so many great people, seen beautiful landscapes, experienced a wide variety of weather conditions as well as experienced many mental and physical challenges. Each day there was something new to overcome and to experience. I have a much better appreciation for the members of the Corp. of Discovery. We both have shared the extreme elements, wind swept rivers, rugged mountains, and sun baked plains together. I have seen hundreds of geologic and geographic features that they mentioned in their journals and can almost imagine what it was like for them to experience seeing them for the first time. Their journey at this point was really only just the beginning. Once they reached the ocean, they were only 1/2 way. After a difficult and wet winter spent at Ft. Clatsop they headed back to St. Louis in the spring of 1806. At times I too wished I was heading back down the trail in the spring seeking better understanding in the journey. In a way I will be, for the Lewis and Clark journey is engrained deep inside of me and I know I will be with them in spirit, dreaming once again about their long journey home.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeaBD6Qcd8DzdIcBA3Lv_j1_z-d8kqfo7SvgD1rhmQVzIsZUPyz-AgT1BQf64B90C69xyJ9adKecVXET7p3UxeyFdmhYKCYhnoiJOoVqTNVtauFP9hHxuSWAs3GLbsNb3ZXzEJ/s1600-h/e13.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271923556793718914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeaBD6Qcd8DzdIcBA3Lv_j1_z-d8kqfo7SvgD1rhmQVzIsZUPyz-AgT1BQf64B90C69xyJ9adKecVXET7p3UxeyFdmhYKCYhnoiJOoVqTNVtauFP9hHxuSWAs3GLbsNb3ZXzEJ/s400/e13.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Sunset near Umatilla, Oregon.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHStk7kweygRXiiAylLwEr7rzgC6Wp5f6Pl_nhgFk9fQqiNOivQ5fTuuJL2WYMr8XPVmGsH1LjVU4jsX0BqOLl-s_pu3q7joPTsuGQgPMwQ184DZ0N_EH0NaiT4t8sbJQ2c_i/s1600-h/e17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271923552442083666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHStk7kweygRXiiAylLwEr7rzgC6Wp5f6Pl_nhgFk9fQqiNOivQ5fTuuJL2WYMr8XPVmGsH1LjVU4jsX0BqOLl-s_pu3q7joPTsuGQgPMwQ184DZ0N_EH0NaiT4t8sbJQ2c_i/s400/e17.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Can't get enough of scenes like this.<br /></span></div><div align="left"><br /><a name="19"></a>September 19-21, 2004<br />Does the wind ever stop blowing along the Columbia River? I have wondered about this since I reached this huge river over a week ago. Paddling this can be very dangerous due to the sudden and constant winds which whip the water into a foaming torrent of whitecaps. Over the past week, I have experienced near constant winds including three days in which I stayed put in a small cove along the river due to the large waves and headwinds that forced me to shore. The river resembles a large lake more than it does a river. Lewis and Clark had to also battle the wind as well as many large rapids along the entire river. Luckily for me the rapids are no longer present due to the construction of several dams on the river which have now drowned the rapids under a hundred feet of water or more.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">A couple of days I was able to experience the river in a state of calm that resembled glass. There was not even a slight ripple on the water. Of all the days I have paddled since March I have only had 6 days of calm winds in which the river appeared like glass. Yes only 6 days out of 5 months of paddling! I have gotten to the point where I can live with the constant blowing and think nothing of it although after several days of being "wind bound". I get bored and tired of waiting and watching the days pass hoping the water will calm down enough that I can make progress without having to worry about capsizing in the huge waves.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEYPCMzcKAKO8fh8E-tr5Xj5w8NHC-5Qk2y4Nt5XJRbudt8pFwDCXBd8o3gXKDvTYKu7xeE7NSS2kiM6EhaXaqRJgItUkS93obayxUUEiMwSNFU9rSZARIafXaUZGvC6rF8X0/s1600-h/e18.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271923550371330178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 340px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEYPCMzcKAKO8fh8E-tr5Xj5w8NHC-5Qk2y4Nt5XJRbudt8pFwDCXBd8o3gXKDvTYKu7xeE7NSS2kiM6EhaXaqRJgItUkS93obayxUUEiMwSNFU9rSZARIafXaUZGvC6rF8X0/s400/e18.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: I was windbound for 4-days in this little cove while the wind</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">rocketed 50+ mph and created huge seas on the river. I was </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">glad I had a cheap dime store novel to read, and reread.<br /></span><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQgJNbGftuNeSZX9bzVoIN-LcNCq4YCARUFzD9MPkkbjJt_eJ_3MxOiZPU7e3TqtKeGwklQgB4WcNmhJ-viC2REVTJNY1TMsy4l7VIa67s-piFop03wOIsOTXsyETqwgtPqmE/s1600-h/e20.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271923546456389042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQgJNbGftuNeSZX9bzVoIN-LcNCq4YCARUFzD9MPkkbjJt_eJ_3MxOiZPU7e3TqtKeGwklQgB4WcNmhJ-viC2REVTJNY1TMsy4l7VIa67s-piFop03wOIsOTXsyETqwgtPqmE/s400/e20.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Along the windy and mighty Columbia River.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0hdWC2HhZMw3CLn5nLVIG77N3fowP7flkjcaXiCQQQhNy0n19UYJXgpz2pAKf4vg0TNfjncth49z0oaBYzgYzLc9ZzBu735eiMOmPD8jCvgr7_2j8fyyBvokn7XYFZxpROi6/s1600-h/e21.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271922149832915906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0hdWC2HhZMw3CLn5nLVIG77N3fowP7flkjcaXiCQQQhNy0n19UYJXgpz2pAKf4vg0TNfjncth49z0oaBYzgYzLc9ZzBu735eiMOmPD8jCvgr7_2j8fyyBvokn7XYFZxpROi6/s400/e21.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Me and friend Todd Hanna with our college alum banner.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Go Lakers! I've known Todd for years and stayed with he and his family while in</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Hood River, Oregon.<br /></span><br /></div><div align="left"><br />I arrived in Hood River, Oregon friday afternoon. The last few days have been very rainy as I approached the mighty Columbia River Gorge -- Wind Surfing Capitol of the World. Once I arrived in The Dalles, Oregon the geography makes a sudden change. The hills and bluffs are now covered with old growth fir and pine trees giving the area the feeling of being in a tropical rain forest. Bluffs close to 1000 feet line both sides of the river. All consist of volcanic basalt. Several volcanoes are located close by including Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood. The clouds and fog have blocked any chance of viewing these massive peaks, but I hope to see them as the weather is suppose to clear up later this week. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I am looking forward to the final 170 miles of my journey even though it could prove to be the most challenging due to the high tides and nasty weather the area receives. I have to make sure that I camp above the high tide line or I could experience getting really wet from the incoming tidal waters. The tides rise and fall as much as 8 feet near the mouth of the Columbia which is also called the "Graveyard of the Pacific" due to the hundreds of ship wrecks that have occurred here over the last two hundred years. One can only imagine a storm that could sink a 300 foot ship let alone a 17 foot kayak!<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkjT1vGkotlvXQxoN6j9tkjHM13jeKqdeGKeBkvUrmfCgphudQjh1UCMWrXWfA5rd0a_bLC1o_MYFVd-cKaEPN-B0y3xGeb_FlH6Q85Sb0EPmoTMygeyXrWxqUl1dFc5vp8B1/s1600-h/e22.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271922148235351218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkjT1vGkotlvXQxoN6j9tkjHM13jeKqdeGKeBkvUrmfCgphudQjh1UCMWrXWfA5rd0a_bLC1o_MYFVd-cKaEPN-B0y3xGeb_FlH6Q85Sb0EPmoTMygeyXrWxqUl1dFc5vp8B1/s400/e22.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Columnar Basalt above Hood River.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpeOVlVftpnxibVGNtgsfvaEqgN8TiMt-Fkxa3z5ZPXlMB2yIKJCvzpJw4Qy8WtltFjR0432-Y6JLyO_Ovx101aUeZCwjrlkYbkg38AQfEwpCPgjRCvaV6V4NwBym9f7EiV3P/s1600-h/e23.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271922146101494402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpeOVlVftpnxibVGNtgsfvaEqgN8TiMt-Fkxa3z5ZPXlMB2yIKJCvzpJw4Qy8WtltFjR0432-Y6JLyO_Ovx101aUeZCwjrlkYbkg38AQfEwpCPgjRCvaV6V4NwBym9f7EiV3P/s400/e23.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Native American petroglyphs along the Columbia River.</span></div><div align="left"><br />This morning I had the pleasure of talking with Ms.Schends' 4th Grade class at May Street Elementary School in Hood River, Oregon. Her class will soon be studying the Lewis and Clark expedition. I had a great time talking with these great kids who seemed very interested in my journey. I was about their age when I got the idea to follow the Lewis and Clark trail so maybe one of them will someday depart from St. Louis in their very own kayak or canoe and paddle to the Pacific. With determination and the desire to do this trail I'm sure every one of them is capable of such a long journey of discovery. Keep Dreaming Kids!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I plan to be in Astoria on Monday the 27th of Sept which will complete my journey. I hope to post a few more updates and more photos of the final week once I've completed the trip. Sometime during the fall or winter I will post hundred more photos from the trail to give you a better idea what is out there. I will have a period of adjustment once I arrive home in Montana that will take awhile to overcome. Life becomes so simple on the river that once I get home, I will begin a new routine. This may be as difficult as portions of the journey which I must overcome each day as a step by step process.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUsqAnp4OW_RgnYUXAvGU47T-gDtNW0qZakMZo7E6t2Wxi14veLDOqMbpwOyRv8gOxAOQZFOi9W5_7S4QxZQv-bz5QPdb4t-yq6197_uOC3QB91iXSlQ4hljl8kZmhgKt6DN-/s1600-h/e25.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271922142092715842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUsqAnp4OW_RgnYUXAvGU47T-gDtNW0qZakMZo7E6t2Wxi14veLDOqMbpwOyRv8gOxAOQZFOi9W5_7S4QxZQv-bz5QPdb4t-yq6197_uOC3QB91iXSlQ4hljl8kZmhgKt6DN-/s400/e25.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Mrs. Schends 4th-grade class in Hood River, Oregon.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1n7M9aLG96BPUp2airRaDEq9WyADF_N22n2i6UbGtqcdcbCrx1Rh_SmTFr0t-X6u0hyphenhyphenuRIzMYTCKGa8g6epdAE69nFnsYl8hWdfTe3sTrakodx9-KbIPgCLH-Kv5aFAZi8BM/s1600-h/e26.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271922137438591698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 251px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1n7M9aLG96BPUp2airRaDEq9WyADF_N22n2i6UbGtqcdcbCrx1Rh_SmTFr0t-X6u0hyphenhyphenuRIzMYTCKGa8g6epdAE69nFnsYl8hWdfTe3sTrakodx9-KbIPgCLH-Kv5aFAZi8BM/s400/e26.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: The Columbia River Gorge: The birthplace of the wind.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bFJzj8AZV23nXMrbSEjATIQIWvATWn2pe8fpf2eaCvBXpKIZWgo4X2dk8Igs2cvARqFyBVi_0_fHEJl1RdI1Mufp5CujmtYwPKXDvhbR0R0QH_P3Jli9z6RHzKYH88NojUIm/s1600-h/e27.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271921141651852562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bFJzj8AZV23nXMrbSEjATIQIWvATWn2pe8fpf2eaCvBXpKIZWgo4X2dk8Igs2cvARqFyBVi_0_fHEJl1RdI1Mufp5CujmtYwPKXDvhbR0R0QH_P3Jli9z6RHzKYH88NojUIm/s400/e27.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Along the Columbia River Gorge, Hood River Oregon.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofHU_cnd28RN4Ygw4MOV2Y7UOnt-SUbykBkAjjAdGAhEgxqLipf5jNp25rciHnXskBQnjouBqgHBZSlqHDk_8vEhIHGvIij1Smqlv6xFn5o-NCTVO1dar7CTiLuBVpQedaKQ4/s1600-h/e28.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271921137048706130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofHU_cnd28RN4Ygw4MOV2Y7UOnt-SUbykBkAjjAdGAhEgxqLipf5jNp25rciHnXskBQnjouBqgHBZSlqHDk_8vEhIHGvIij1Smqlv6xFn5o-NCTVO1dar7CTiLuBVpQedaKQ4/s400/e28.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Gotta love the morning sunrise and fog!<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg495W4zSbLO-4peeeGJYGhQkLNOGZ4du-s8Ewa1DPX5-sbe1DPlCvu5mF0i1P284vHTx-rYQ_MstpWjZkojRlSqg_19yq8xO0CQuoRG2dUAn4JqPcz_LaVjXbK554VFe93f7Ko/s1600-h/e29.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271921136055150738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 322px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg495W4zSbLO-4peeeGJYGhQkLNOGZ4du-s8Ewa1DPX5-sbe1DPlCvu5mF0i1P284vHTx-rYQ_MstpWjZkojRlSqg_19yq8xO0CQuoRG2dUAn4JqPcz_LaVjXbK554VFe93f7Ko/s400/e29.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Morning fog below Beacon Rock.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">In the Wake of Discovery!<br /></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left">(Text Below was sent to my website during the trip and written by John Haide from Oregon. He was the only paddler in 6-months to paddle with me. It was great to have some company during our short 30 mile day. Thanks John too for your photos of me.)</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I sent Norm an email a couple weeks ago when I figured he would be nearing my area. I live just outside of Portland. I got a phone call from Norm when he was in Hood River and we decided to hook up on Thursday the 23rd, 6 months from Norm's departure from St. Louis, to paddle the section of the Columbia from Government Island, just east of Portland, down to St. Helens, Oregon. It turns out this is just a little over 30 miles. It turned out Norm actually camped on McGuire Island which was only about 1/2 mile from a boat launch where I could easily put in. I paddled my 1985 kit built skin-on-frame Folbot Sporty from the launch to find Norm out on by his boat. I pulled up on shore and we had a quick introduction before heading down the river. It was very calm as we departed and the sun was just coming up over the Columbia Gorge to the east.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">We had good current and made our way along the south side of Government Island, Under the Interstate 205 bridge and past the Portland International Airport. Norm was a little surprised that you cannot see the city of Portland from the river. It is actually around 6 miles from the Columbia River. We passed under the Interstate 5 bridge between Portland and Vancouver, Washington, now getting into a more active commercial port area. We started seeing tug and barge traffic and large freighters at port docks or anchored in the river waiting to load or unload. We stopped for lunch at Frenchman's Bar Park on the Washington side of the river. It was pretty calm up until this point and the sun was now out making for a nice stop on the grass at the park. Leaving from lunch we were just past where the Willamette River enters the Columbia and the Columbia makes a bend to the North at this point. As we left, the afternoon winds came up and wouldn't you know it, they were right out of the North. The rest of the trip was along Sauvie Island, the largest river island in the country. It stretches for about 15 miles, all the way down to St. Helens, Oregon. After fighting the headwinds and wind waves up to 2 feet, we finally arrived in St. Helens just a little after 5:00PM and Norm set up camp and started dinner while I made cell phone calls to get a ride back to pick up my truck at the starting point of the day.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">It was really great meeting Norm and getting to know him as we traveled down the river. I enjoyed telling him about the area and learning more about his trip. We will keep in touch as my plans come together for my Lewis and Clark trip a little over a year from now.</div><div align="left"><em>John Haide Hillsboro, Oregon.<br /></em><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vH9TydpY8jvL15veriuCDwsJ7pyZz-TEWZGSDXSZU71R7HWuA9dnYUcog5zS8b9SO91cjHDCbbl5IKjh3fYx5D8Ic5dP-X7g8ECokz_ahBn6HnjFmERbwB_gDYfBRTBv3qUw/s1600-h/e30.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271921126460799010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 284px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vH9TydpY8jvL15veriuCDwsJ7pyZz-TEWZGSDXSZU71R7HWuA9dnYUcog5zS8b9SO91cjHDCbbl5IKjh3fYx5D8Ic5dP-X7g8ECokz_ahBn6HnjFmERbwB_gDYfBRTBv3qUw/s400/e30.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Pilings along the river with Mt. Hood in the background.<br /></span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 27, 1805 "a verry windy night and morning wind from the west and hard." Wm. Clark </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Nov 2, 1805 "Made a portage of about 1 1/2 miles with half of the baggage, and run the rapid with the canoes without much damage, one struck a rock & split a little, and three others took in some water... Wm. Clark </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Nov 3, 1805 "A mountain which we suppose to be Mt. Hood is S. 85 E. about 47 miles distant from the mouth of quick sand river. This Mtn is covered with snow and in the range of mountains which we have passed through and is of a conical form but rugid." Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Nov 5, 1805 "the day proved cloudy with rain the greater part of it, we are all wet cold and disagreeable…" Wm Clark "Great joy in camp we are in view of the Ocian with great Pacific Ocean which we been so long anxious to see. And the roaring or noise made by the braking on the rockey shores may be heard distinctly." Wm Clark<br /></span></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2eacG7BUcZqgiKgMKlpe2VFALyggFfCTD3WgrPiEnBVYdc9SlaywbUpW0TrMWkvdR6VcvFPFl4a57vcEuL7KpmED0qFvJw-DpIEAvCNrPGYyF7iuipZPsnJ7zCnzzeWeW8415/s1600-h/e66.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271921126517777090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2eacG7BUcZqgiKgMKlpe2VFALyggFfCTD3WgrPiEnBVYdc9SlaywbUpW0TrMWkvdR6VcvFPFl4a57vcEuL7KpmED0qFvJw-DpIEAvCNrPGYyF7iuipZPsnJ7zCnzzeWeW8415/s400/e66.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Me on the Columbia</span>.</div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4c72Q1Uail1mF_6Ksa-YIFL9TT0Yr3UBEGLmc8CBRNIfhJPLJXY4dQ8YUY2yswNAjqBmK0EgFHF9QOLRAmLM9Vf5YG3-shw2pOORBLaDxYHjxVwwu_V-_7DIDGkD6TaVlc-nv/s1600-h/e44.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271920240753445730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 248px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4c72Q1Uail1mF_6Ksa-YIFL9TT0Yr3UBEGLmc8CBRNIfhJPLJXY4dQ8YUY2yswNAjqBmK0EgFHF9QOLRAmLM9Vf5YG3-shw2pOORBLaDxYHjxVwwu_V-_7DIDGkD6TaVlc-nv/s400/e44.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: A nice private camping place along the Columbia River.</span></div><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF8Ck52ElhNvMwDByZkgCFQBoAsqQ5L5YRuCJfWGMknF4HWIMQqY4BaJA84XOA7X4LEMVCn8JSIoqRQ4WdTT_mB3QeWBuBWPUXxrh-kIihWjjq78zKibzyDGRz-XAKPiTMp_mS/s1600-h/e31.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271920239092606162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 205px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF8Ck52ElhNvMwDByZkgCFQBoAsqQ5L5YRuCJfWGMknF4HWIMQqY4BaJA84XOA7X4LEMVCn8JSIoqRQ4WdTT_mB3QeWBuBWPUXxrh-kIihWjjq78zKibzyDGRz-XAKPiTMp_mS/s400/e31.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Paddler John Haide near Portland. John was the ONLY paddler</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">I shared the water with in 6-months! Can you believe that!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"> I got to paddle with John in his Folboat all the way to St. Helens, Oregon.</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79zPFKrnRCnhwQVAUrISFo-x1Wlxp6ijnRZVogqP5YJbGFOTwEyMD8wIipkW5OkPHLYkcQvewLDtDjJUoIIlM5JhiovEvR_K9gAci4GZDG9HGJwfABivrn-c8LPHq22OSYHwA/s1600-h/e67.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271920235734502962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 329px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg79zPFKrnRCnhwQVAUrISFo-x1Wlxp6ijnRZVogqP5YJbGFOTwEyMD8wIipkW5OkPHLYkcQvewLDtDjJUoIIlM5JhiovEvR_K9gAci4GZDG9HGJwfABivrn-c8LPHq22OSYHwA/s400/e67.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Portland Oregon. I camped near the end of the airport runway.</span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpGF5aHf8MkEHGig6UUdb3IFrByg-V5ORb4OuW6c5M1mgK1u_yDNErGetIDa3ME8tQMhTTiCEFw-fihzA-fKtMgdyW0H1_7WCKM_WyDrManbssDiI1rhjX6bmnCZYmt6ogVbV/s1600-h/e65.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271920235504366402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpGF5aHf8MkEHGig6UUdb3IFrByg-V5ORb4OuW6c5M1mgK1u_yDNErGetIDa3ME8tQMhTTiCEFw-fihzA-fKtMgdyW0H1_7WCKM_WyDrManbssDiI1rhjX6bmnCZYmt6ogVbV/s400/e65.jpg" border="0" /></a> Above: Looking at my map.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYadaKXQbKmMaah0r_3oTja4OZ_ZISguj878EFdRsjKj3K0vRDG4pOvxsQSneGdv27iircJ5KzDmWiSithGTXc_XmyiZ6Je3iLagqb-hGWt-bxW8CPl4B0DwfzPzRzYrS6zfhC/s1600-h/e40.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271920228559704850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 146px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYadaKXQbKmMaah0r_3oTja4OZ_ZISguj878EFdRsjKj3K0vRDG4pOvxsQSneGdv27iircJ5KzDmWiSithGTXc_XmyiZ6Je3iLagqb-hGWt-bxW8CPl4B0DwfzPzRzYrS6zfhC/s400/e40.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Paddling through industrial Portland. A piece of cake!</span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUshPGQLBn8CkBa3f4pae0r03ZI5FKtVYnepAuLnc2n_7r4To5RF6tVznT2LJ6GUXtw5ElEx0zW_kMoq5tR61anMPucUmcEQ7-W1T8ib0JcOl2o5M895zEapkk1WQQrT7csKD/s1600-h/e41.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271919450734843810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUshPGQLBn8CkBa3f4pae0r03ZI5FKtVYnepAuLnc2n_7r4To5RF6tVznT2LJ6GUXtw5ElEx0zW_kMoq5tR61anMPucUmcEQ7-W1T8ib0JcOl2o5M895zEapkk1WQQrT7csKD/s400/e41.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Me and John Haide somewhere below Portland.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlG-oBXN7j7lL9PYHkwxdS1NSD4RGd84JHPiEQUFSx9AABen7YTSxZSKKeP5DiniaEKYV2_g94KlyyGmEhNr5J5ypfvgHL9Z2_z5hVTsF_O4_jHR5MiKZm_mh2j62wiG4KCd7h/s1600-h/e42.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271919445362208082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlG-oBXN7j7lL9PYHkwxdS1NSD4RGd84JHPiEQUFSx9AABen7YTSxZSKKeP5DiniaEKYV2_g94KlyyGmEhNr5J5ypfvgHL9Z2_z5hVTsF_O4_jHR5MiKZm_mh2j62wiG4KCd7h/s400/e42.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Old Nuclear Power Plant on Coffin Island.<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUkH8zhz0ej6egX7l_IjTt2uPa4qOwz5YUr4BLrWK1KUoKsABeeYc3vATw6w_kYFqffNRykS4ZRA9V9fhUiQzyLkfXnO1NKthh1lRA9GCP8rUjW8sENg7bkroVSCu5vqzXNd8/s1600-h/e68.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271919420574538066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUkH8zhz0ej6egX7l_IjTt2uPa4qOwz5YUr4BLrWK1KUoKsABeeYc3vATw6w_kYFqffNRykS4ZRA9V9fhUiQzyLkfXnO1NKthh1lRA9GCP8rUjW8sENg7bkroVSCu5vqzXNd8/s400/e68.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Me and the big boats.<br /></span></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><br />The disturbance in the water just ahead of my boat caught my attention as I began to drift off into my usual deep paddling mode. At first I thought the splashing in the water was caused by an Osprey diving for one of the many salmon that were heading upstream for the fall spawning season. I stopped paddling for a moment and noticed a large dark object appear from underneath the water and thrash about once again. This time I noticed that whatever it was had a very large chinook salmon in its mouth and was shaking it like how a dog shakes a sock in its mouth when playing .I paddled a little closer as the animal broke through the waters surface and shook the fish once again. This time I could not mistake the large animal for that of a sea lion. It must have weighed close to 300 lbs and was eating a salmon it had caught. I was thrilled to see this animal not only because I have seen few in the wild but because it was a sign that I was close to the Pacific and an end to my long journey. The sea lion had traveled over 70 miles from the ocean when I saw it on a very placid evening along the mighty Columbia River.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> Seeing the sea lion brought me relief in knowing that the end was near, but also a sadness in the closing of what has become a way of life for the last half a year. Over the last several months I have become use to all the discomforts that once nearly drove me over the limit. The constant heat, wet, wind, blowing sands, mud, aches, sun burns, cramps, and uncertainties have become such an everyday occurance that one begins to think nothing of them, and at times I often wonder where they are when they don't show up after a day or two. Life as I have known it for the past 27 weeks has become very simple. Your days are basically divided into eating, sleeping, and paddling. Nothing more.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> My days are often so routine that each simple task is engrained in my mind that I go through a mental checklist each morning upon setting out to make sure everything has been packed correctly. The waters along the lower Columbia have been some of the most peaceful of my entire journey. Not only has the water been nearly calm but the landscape is very beautiful. Large bluffs line much of the water, all covered with dense fir and spruce trees.Many islands provide shelter for the abundance of bird life that seems to be getting ready for the fall migration. Not only do I share the river with water fowl but also with large tugs and ocean going ships many of which are well over 600 feet long. These large ships travel at such a fast rate of speed that they seem to be almost on top of you before you can descide which side of the shipping channel you need to be on. Many create large wakes that could toss you about if you are not careful enough to position your boat to receive the least amount of wake wash. If the wind is blowing away from you it is sometimeshard to hear the low droan sound of the large diesel engines as they approach. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">The only bad day of weather I've had was when I left Hood River, Oregon last tuesday. The Gorge is the wind surfing capitol of the world and I seemed to hit one of the better days for wind. I managed to get about two miles outside of Hood River when a 20 mph gust began to blow upstream causeing large waves to form. I managed to find shelter in several small bays as I inched along the shore. The waves got so large after awhile that I had to pull completely off the water in hopes that it would die down enough to continue. Unfortunatly it did not die down and I was forced to camp across from the town of Stevenson, Washington for the night. I got an early start in the morning to beat the wind and made it to Bonneville Dam. This dam is the last one on the Columbia River and has the highest security of them all. My friend Todd Hanna was kind enough to help with the long portage around the dam where I put back in below the dam on water that was as calm as glass. The river was fogged in and I could hardly make out many of the land features that were on my map. I made great time in the downstream current covering over 30 miles in about 5 hours.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6CyvsstCpQphw1kctjgko4kR5OVddwPnVON35xrcDR627p-UmpOFWnMN6g_FJbIW226CSwD2B-CeKUlQFLQJi92VJF6Rz-3DpqGPx4MHoNeBBujKzklhvR6JnF3CqauUSxvR/s1600-h/e43.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271919419446836338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6CyvsstCpQphw1kctjgko4kR5OVddwPnVON35xrcDR627p-UmpOFWnMN6g_FJbIW226CSwD2B-CeKUlQFLQJi92VJF6Rz-3DpqGPx4MHoNeBBujKzklhvR6JnF3CqauUSxvR/s400/e43.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Sealion about 70-miles from the ocean.</span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="left"><br /></span></div><br />I camped on the edge of Government Island which sits right on the edge of Portland. A busy highway full of cars sat on the opposite shore while 747's lifted off the nearby runway and roared upwards through the sky. It was had to imagine a city of over a million people had sprung up in just two hundred years since Lewis and Clark passed through. The next day I had the pleasure of paddling with John Haide from Hillsboro, Oregon. John had contacted me the week before and had been following my journey online the entire summer. He was hoping to paddle with me and to get some vital information on the upper Columbia and Snake Rivers since he is planning to to paddle from Orofino, Idaho to the Pacific next summer or fall.John arrived just as the sun began to lighten the area enough to make out more than just shapes and forms along the water. He was paddling a Folboat Kayak and I joined him as we traveled through Portland and beyond to the small fishing community of St. Helens, Oregon.<div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> It was a nice casual pace the entire day even though the wind picked up a little in the afternoon. I had been traveling my own pace for the past 6 months it was hard for me to slow my rate down enough as to not get so far ahead of John. It was great to paddle with someone who enjoys being out on the water as much as I do. John provided me with many valuable facts and navigational information to help boost my confidense in traveling the lower Columbia River. Dealing with tides, ocean currents,and a large shipping channel were all new territory for me. I was very nervous about this entire section of the river especially the last 15 miles. John was kind enough to give me a tide table and show me how to read it. I was suprised to learn that there are two highs and lows each day. Learing how to read the tables were actually much easier than I had thought which boosted my confidence even more. John and I paddled over 30 miles to the small town of St. Helens where I set up camp on an island directly across from the town. I think I had the entire island all to myself. John departed just before the sun dipped below the horizon while I pulled my boat far up on shore so as not to let the tide take it while I slept.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I got up in the middle of the night to check on the boat and was suprised to find the stern partly in the water. The river rose nearly 4 foot during the night. In the morning, the river was shrouded in thick fog so I was very careful as to not get out too far into the shipping channel and become a "speed bump" for a large ship. I made good time since the tide was on its way out to sea and it pulled me along with it. I passed the large outcropping of rock known as Coffin Rock. Lewis and Clark made reference of this feature and noting that many of the Indians had buried their dead around its base. Along the edge of the rock now sits a Nuclear power plant giving the island a sense of doom which fit its name.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I managed to make it to County Line park and camped in the small campground situated along the river and highway. Jim and Arlyce Ross were kind enough to invite me over to their camp for dinner. They were from nearby Longview, Washingtion and come to the campground often to get away from town. We had a nice evening watching the huge boat wakes crash into shore, one of which nearly flipped my boat onto the pile of rocks along the waters edge. I was glad to move it to higher ground since several more ships passed by during the night. The view up the river gave you a nice view of Mt. St. Helens and its blown off top. It would be hard to imagine the day back in the early 80's when she blew 1000 feet off of its height with its huge eruption.. I made good time to the small village of Skamockawa by noon on Saturday.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjgnIPOSTMApFEeakVY4xvlD5OzkVarphyphenhyphen1tc0g6X5inGQLyXwD2FCdfs6thy2QdEaF4wFujpPGj02AiNWohhyphenhyphenSUm04B7YKMF-2UzvLi-9AqiydpmwYJG04a1zfLC8Gk9Dldq/s1600-h/e69.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271919419345797186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjgnIPOSTMApFEeakVY4xvlD5OzkVarphyphenhyphen1tc0g6X5inGQLyXwD2FCdfs6thy2QdEaF4wFujpPGj02AiNWohhyphenhyphenSUm04B7YKMF-2UzvLi-9AqiydpmwYJG04a1zfLC8Gk9Dldq/s400/e69.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Me downstream of Portland, Or.<br /><br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeDafS14pK40D6BHKZQEH4svLjBQP00R2kdQxEWIyaEdRk7fWBxiddzIq6C3hOLwKSXr2rOdu1AeBr_1YF8Xn4yKPIMvVswJynR6r3NWymrOjtDeLIu3zjd30Jul6pREVzPg8/s1600-h/e46.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271918310178686610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikeDafS14pK40D6BHKZQEH4svLjBQP00R2kdQxEWIyaEdRk7fWBxiddzIq6C3hOLwKSXr2rOdu1AeBr_1YF8Xn4yKPIMvVswJynR6r3NWymrOjtDeLIu3zjd30Jul6pREVzPg8/s400/e46.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Falls near Skamockawa, Wa.<br /></span></div><div align="left"><br />As I was approaching town, I could see the outline of over a dozen sea kayaks all heading my way. I was suprised by the large numbers of paddlers since I had seen very few since leaving Montana two months prior. I briefly chatted with a few of the paddlers. They did not seem at all suprised by my presence as I was of theirs since they see so many paddlers in this part of the river. Skamockawa has a paddling center which is very famous. It sits right on the waters edge and one can paddle up to the dock, tie off and walk into the shop, small grochery, restaurant and post office all in one building. People come from all over the country to paddle in this beautiful area. As I approached the beach which looked like as ideal place to camp for the next two nights, two paddlers stopped by and asked about my journey. They said they were with the Oregon Ocean Paddlers Society (OOPS) out of Portland and were having their fall Salmon Bake party. They invited me to join the group for dinner. I had thought I would be eating the final dehydrated meals I had brought along and getting to bed by sunset but I was wrong. Two other members named Katherine and Gary also invited me to the dinner and asked if I would be willing to tell the group about my journey. I told them I would be delighted to and thanked them for the invite. Gary and a few others were very helpful in providing me with key information about the final 30 miles of my trip to the mouth of the mighty Columbia. Dinner was soon served and a feast it was. Salmon, salads, desert including ice cream filled my stomach to the brim. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">After dinner I talked to the paddling club about my journey for nearly an hour.It was probably the longest period I have talked to anyone the entire 6-months. I had grown accustomed to talking to myself a lot over the last few months so it was nice to actually converse with other people. My voice grew tried after awhile due to my lack of conversations over the last months. It was nice to talk to fellow paddlers who can relate to spending time on the water in a boat. Sometimes when I would have a conversation with someone about my journey they often could not relate to doing what I was doing. Many people I have encountered seemed like they never understood what it was like to follow a dream. This group of paddlers seemed glued to my conversation which was a nice change of pace.I was very envious of their club since there is no such club like that where I live back in Montana.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">This was the largest group of people I had talked to since departing from St. Louis. I had such a great time with this group of people it was hard knowing I would be departing soon and may not see most of them again but one never knows. Thanks OOPS for the fantastic Salmon Bake dinner and extra Salmon filet you gave me for the following nights dinner with my girl friend Dee Dee. Speaking of Dee Dee, she arrived in town the following morning about 9am when I wasn't expecting her till late afternoon. I was so happy to see her drive into the campground the next morning.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOREfvGWhL6cra41xuCFoF_mQuaLoWbtrNqRbtzUUPxU_DHRfm_ZVLV9EUECZ6VzD0L1dQ92R59ZX3q5_DHMXSYS8hLOX_xRExyLdEfNy93sxRD0E-mIktsBLFsIHh9NvVf9t/s1600-h/e52.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271918309603805826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOREfvGWhL6cra41xuCFoF_mQuaLoWbtrNqRbtzUUPxU_DHRfm_ZVLV9EUECZ6VzD0L1dQ92R59ZX3q5_DHMXSYS8hLOX_xRExyLdEfNy93sxRD0E-mIktsBLFsIHh9NvVf9t/s400/e52.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: My last day: Fog so thick I could hardly see in front of me.<br /><br /></span><br /></div><div align="left">I had not seen her since Three Forks, Montana two months ago. We spent the day together going to the coast and Astoria to check out a landing place for me the following day. At one time I was originally going to paddle across the bar of the river into the Pacific but what a fool I would have been. Upon looking out over the mouth of the river from the Cape Disappointment Lighthouse one sees nothing but a huge expanse of wicked water. The mouth is known as the Graveyard of the Pacific. It has claimed over 1000 ships and hundreds of lives over the years. Waves as high as 50 feet has been known to form in minutes. William Clark even wrote in his journal how aweful this body of water was. The Lewis and Clark Expedition stopped paddling before they reached the mouth due to the heavy seas which nearly detroyed their canoes. They eventually retreated back upstream nearly 20 miles and crossing to the south side, following this around past the present site of Astoria into a small bay and river now called Lewis and Clark River where they wintered over at a newly constructed fort they called Clatsop. My final day was uneventful.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmt0lsYNc6xs3lS-Y8vegHClvWynytnXVMCMNEfjuTQMPiFl6ySpuFuZ1G4zMYeudRnLMs0RqccHvov7WoUuuE4MJ89Rp7_poYi2EzzZpmEYUxytdSWBTxNctMqPgeKkWSub44/s1600-h/e47.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271918305920852818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 334px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmt0lsYNc6xs3lS-Y8vegHClvWynytnXVMCMNEfjuTQMPiFl6ySpuFuZ1G4zMYeudRnLMs0RqccHvov7WoUuuE4MJ89Rp7_poYi2EzzZpmEYUxytdSWBTxNctMqPgeKkWSub44/s400/e47.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Last night out.<br /></span></div><div align="left"><br /><br />The waters were calm but the fog was so thick I could not see more than 40 feet in front of my boat. With careful navigation and a little luck, I managed to paddle from Skamockawa to Astoria in about 6-hours. As I approached the final 1000 feet of my journey I could see Dee Dee standing on the shore smiling my way. I found out later she almost didn't make it to see me come in since her truck would not start back at camp after I left due to moisture in the gas tank. It was great to see her standing there watching me. She had been such a big help over the last 6- months,I probably would have had a hard time logistically without her help.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Several people also stood near her and snapped a few photos as I pulled my boat into shore. Jim from OOPS along with several of the people from the Maritime Museaum stood and applauded which was by far a bigger greating than Lewis and Clark received. Several sea lions swam near and surfaced near my boat while others barked loundly from a nearby bouy. A Great Blue Heron flew overhead and headed out towards sea. Was this the same Heron I saw every day that seemed to follow me waiting at every bend as I apporached only to fly away to greet me on the next bend? I felt releaved that my final week went smooth and that I didn't have a grand finale Coast Guard Helicopter rescue at sea. I was tired, thankful, and happy to be alive. Ocean in view, Oh the Joy!<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3jZTEhTl5cCrNWDIki52rvu4tJrTH4vybzOyLN07qXIMPkNJ4_5LdOn2IK9pOutiXt1cHjYviBbACJTNKDAY-bylhYqc6-VuDdWOU8jbD-3Dd8BOYopjsJyCUGAcQrOYPEhf/s1600-h/e48.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271918304871095442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3jZTEhTl5cCrNWDIki52rvu4tJrTH4vybzOyLN07qXIMPkNJ4_5LdOn2IK9pOutiXt1cHjYviBbACJTNKDAY-bylhYqc6-VuDdWOU8jbD-3Dd8BOYopjsJyCUGAcQrOYPEhf/s400/e48.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Fog setting in for the evening on the Columbia</span>.</div><div align="center"><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsZMPcDBV8jmzgD_5hqtsIGVIpqbtfbPzUtVm0MPjIHyyPyfahD7S9uFgaKjON1p-JpN5zaYPQs_WtyXpsdmk3faGjxbEwt3yEe0c2tYch8mB462MeMs4ib9OK2oE2vtTVmNk1/s1600-h/e51.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271918304792271842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsZMPcDBV8jmzgD_5hqtsIGVIpqbtfbPzUtVm0MPjIHyyPyfahD7S9uFgaKjON1p-JpN5zaYPQs_WtyXpsdmk3faGjxbEwt3yEe0c2tYch8mB462MeMs4ib9OK2oE2vtTVmNk1/s400/e51.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Sunset at Skamakowa Washington, my last night out on the water!<br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVEPCqjgs3P-9qrl0iJh7aA2wZF8uKD051xZ9lihM3lNUS3wOHyN-nzlhktrLOPu2Si7y-cqRI_kMIvglyI9XvfZbBQM95_OHrx316l_AH6iN_0ajl8CeUkYApt39cmKXyNUm/s1600-h/e53.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271917448319540050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 398px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVEPCqjgs3P-9qrl0iJh7aA2wZF8uKD051xZ9lihM3lNUS3wOHyN-nzlhktrLOPu2Si7y-cqRI_kMIvglyI9XvfZbBQM95_OHrx316l_AH6iN_0ajl8CeUkYApt39cmKXyNUm/s400/e53.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Arrival at Astoria: Sept 27th, 2004 1:15pm</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ocean in view, Oh the joy!</span></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRO-NySkfJvFxbegws3NhOuTjoQhSEc0dLj0ypscucWFFiDIbIePumV19R-3bOjdSWv6skYFT0bRiQ6Mh_eqtIaOoRnmkmwPaG-6j-92srD_MLSy7l2P5wncYxEO5gvnZATtUI/s1600-h/e49.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271917446562558738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRO-NySkfJvFxbegws3NhOuTjoQhSEc0dLj0ypscucWFFiDIbIePumV19R-3bOjdSWv6skYFT0bRiQ6Mh_eqtIaOoRnmkmwPaG-6j-92srD_MLSy7l2P5wncYxEO5gvnZATtUI/s400/e49.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Wading in the salt waters of the Pacific. It seemed sureal</span> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">having left St. Louis Missouri just over 6-months ago. Wow!<br /><br /></span><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf3Scm6ixO4UTLNIKQY9QnPTjTcUz-RzM6-TUDf5o_neVTHyTWx3votnAJQd4kWmCcy43sWNNYTY9MWTAtTJxFz0XQfPx6JZOaF3aiiIN5Ev5iuIgBqaES1mRrYQ4vv_UXlaNO/s1600-h/e50.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271917441609481010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf3Scm6ixO4UTLNIKQY9QnPTjTcUz-RzM6-TUDf5o_neVTHyTWx3votnAJQd4kWmCcy43sWNNYTY9MWTAtTJxFz0XQfPx6JZOaF3aiiIN5Ev5iuIgBqaES1mRrYQ4vv_UXlaNO/s400/e50.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Cape Disappoinment at the mouth of the Columbia.<br /><br /></span><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ29bd1FEbrNY6rMkMpLWEXfN2BHzF4ahwyRmPFXha_WvJhRWQGeVDr_8LWgwiwe6qdWIuTADcsfmZJ2Tv1jAHO1L8Sf1vv8I1kyDXlvdG39N3nXeuffXL9yYev7ZWq9bbZRsk/s1600-h/e54.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271917438091300738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ29bd1FEbrNY6rMkMpLWEXfN2BHzF4ahwyRmPFXha_WvJhRWQGeVDr_8LWgwiwe6qdWIuTADcsfmZJ2Tv1jAHO1L8Sf1vv8I1kyDXlvdG39N3nXeuffXL9yYev7ZWq9bbZRsk/s400/e54.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Rusting remains of a ship. One of over a 1,000 ships</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">that have sunk at the mouth of the Columbia River. Hence why it</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">is called the Graveyard of the Pacific.</span></div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FSKjAuEQnH0QWQMarGhEp4zUdALyDAjZlPDN8FG0kBiCE35UuXDsPr9eUTRQlaI4K5N7sLGyponbGUkKK-TUxvEyQ7f9HwWk2r9wsMlmh6FX1ndo3dQc5fUwiJA5_Ny-5tzo/s1600-h/e60.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271917425891879986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FSKjAuEQnH0QWQMarGhEp4zUdALyDAjZlPDN8FG0kBiCE35UuXDsPr9eUTRQlaI4K5N7sLGyponbGUkKK-TUxvEyQ7f9HwWk2r9wsMlmh6FX1ndo3dQc5fUwiJA5_Ny-5tzo/s400/e60.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: This is what I envisioned might happen if the weather</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">got bad at the mouth of the Columbia. Coast Guard rescue scene</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">at the MaritimeMuseum in Astoria, Oregon.<br /><br /></span><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPK9ZToGgAtFXFRGZi4CaAcUnLLIFqnSxLrdz6yRjz4Pfk8G8Gwqiv8eX-rOwGMObq4uwbs30rBwkyTTDVVrZ1zOi88zyFHJ9zWOT8MkkfqQJT9Z9EWawP_IsaqtVu-P0nTRVq/s1600-h/e61.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271916573461910882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 326px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPK9ZToGgAtFXFRGZi4CaAcUnLLIFqnSxLrdz6yRjz4Pfk8G8Gwqiv8eX-rOwGMObq4uwbs30rBwkyTTDVVrZ1zOi88zyFHJ9zWOT8MkkfqQJT9Z9EWawP_IsaqtVu-P0nTRVq/s400/e61.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: A bananna slug. They sure are big!<br /><br /></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGP68JL_kFJxzFWZ0aZTZOW9mM5Mqn9YDAnMaEs-loMt7C_pNVWfXBH-6Ggb_YHSwk4JbF8lxpi45ataV7Uasy1zHarn0VUrEbSQbYL_K-eQfNcD98IxrhhL_Xd6K_mjYc77kK/s1600-h/e59.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271916572376288546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGP68JL_kFJxzFWZ0aZTZOW9mM5Mqn9YDAnMaEs-loMt7C_pNVWfXBH-6Ggb_YHSwk4JbF8lxpi45ataV7Uasy1zHarn0VUrEbSQbYL_K-eQfNcD98IxrhhL_Xd6K_mjYc77kK/s400/e59.jpg" border="0" /></a> Above: Looking down on Astoria, Oregon and</div><div align="center">the wide mouth of the Columbia River.</div><div align="center"><br /><br /> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyUiA5FVyR5LnSQ3hZwAXlVv82QmA8fxH51Oxq9zFCjw0uX2KI2xGqpwxXx7WVz0Q9_wLZJkID2Tt-BRZ501dEiDs20QKpQQdrkEp1_un9O2jKg6HYoRoRNS9BOqk6k3kJvB0/s1600-h/e57.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271916572236394066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyUiA5FVyR5LnSQ3hZwAXlVv82QmA8fxH51Oxq9zFCjw0uX2KI2xGqpwxXx7WVz0Q9_wLZJkID2Tt-BRZ501dEiDs20QKpQQdrkEp1_un9O2jKg6HYoRoRNS9BOqk6k3kJvB0/s400/e57.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Above: Reconstructed Fort Clatsop where Lewis & Clark</div><div align="center">and the Corp of Discovery wintered-over during </div><div align="center">1805-06</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSnwYeRQxhVG8UHHiZJCa5o6_hyc57eNnqVK_UcmylDwO6hD2d16OTryXwclSp95_IeSyNt-tI_Ku5POzswmVSJQod96CPGUNF8yIW_HCnwdRm8A54Ofa4orgDjjCVV2XlOGzk/s1600-h/e56.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271916566668965842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSnwYeRQxhVG8UHHiZJCa5o6_hyc57eNnqVK_UcmylDwO6hD2d16OTryXwclSp95_IeSyNt-tI_Ku5POzswmVSJQod96CPGUNF8yIW_HCnwdRm8A54Ofa4orgDjjCVV2XlOGzk/s400/e56.jpg" border="0" /></a> Above and below: Evening sunset over the Pacific on the evening of the completion</div><div align="center">of my 6-month journey chaceing the ghost of Lewis & Clark.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUrii5xHob3opOyPSVdWBQfwTFFHen8GSSFqFjAeOPa_UumZzbkGWEGHl2ziFrqosADuTc4XPtDyIhhoOth_5hk3Aydmn5e7P3Lg7XvsLcy335z4nIbg0yfyfq2XLqJs62TeC/s1600-h/e55.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271916568585856994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUrii5xHob3opOyPSVdWBQfwTFFHen8GSSFqFjAeOPa_UumZzbkGWEGHl2ziFrqosADuTc4XPtDyIhhoOth_5hk3Aydmn5e7P3Lg7XvsLcy335z4nIbg0yfyfq2XLqJs62TeC/s400/e55.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />"Bad things are not the worst thing that can</div><div align="center">happen to you; nothing is the worst</div><div align="center">thing that can happen to you" Richard Bach<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-18398595025683033132008-11-17T20:16:00.000-08:002008-11-23T09:58:57.340-08:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Part 8: Three Forks to Weippe Idaho:</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Over the Continental Divide ~ On foot!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269847440314985554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscaO5_WKgJ8LBGCYwLos80dzEohHHYdHWYKbzcfVKG-q3ByZfhHFRvJ_WzB4sWJaLxKn-rZx-VFDxtzh-ZuaMldNQxQGjiJzWGMvc7pPxleYQSjj1d3kJ-cHP3-GL793juZMR/s400/d1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: The Jefferson River a few days upstream from Three Forks.</span></strong></div><br /><br />Aug 2, 2004:<br /><br />My friend Verlen Kruger passed away last night after suffering with a long bought of cancer. Verlen has been very inspirational and without his encouragement over the years I probably would never have attempted this journey or my 1998 trip to the Arctic. I first saw and read about Verlen when I was a young child growing up in Grayling, Michigan. He was passing through town on a 28,000 mile (3 1/2 year) canoe journey throughout North America. I was amazed that so many miles could be traveled by canoe throughout the continent and more amazed that this man who was already in his 60's and attempting such an undertaking. Back in 1997 when I was making plans to retrace the trail of Alexander Mackenzie through Canada I contacted Verlen at his home along the Grand River in Lansing Michigan. He sent me his book "One Incredible Journey", which was about a canoe trip across Canada he took in the 70's. He signed the book for me along with a few other words that said "If you can dream it, you can do it." Since I had been dreaming about my journey for a long time, his inspiration set the ball rolling for me and fired me up with the desire to do such a journey. I eventually went to Lansing and paddled with Verlen and purchased one of his solo expedition canoes. I was amazed at the comfort and efficiency his canoes handled. I have been in contact with Verlen over the years. We had occasionally chatted on the phone or wrote one another an email (Verlen didn't like to email, it was too complicated). Prior to my Lewis and Clark journey Verlen offered many words of encouragement and in his voice I could sense that he had a desire to come along. Well, Verlen has come along with me since the start of my journey and will continue to be with me when I reach the Pacific. Take care Verlen and enjoy that big canoe expedition in the sky! You will be missed.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269847449864699042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8a0g7-7RIHQMLtiLR34U6-VIrcJ3hpXP5cGv-wAuNT88SyX6xwjc-OR-McKt7zkYG1hWaBSLH4jSuXAen3PEaUORv0eMB3UlHThyphenhyphen1qGEIhM6qmSpWwntZNN5fkxptndIpM16t/s400/d2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: The Jefferson River.</span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug, 11, 1805"found the river shallow and rapid, insomuch that the men wer compelled to be in the water a considerable proportion of the day in drageing the canoes over the shouals and riffles." M. Lewis (Near Dillon, Montana)</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br />I touched the headwaters and source of the Missouri as Lewis discovered it. (This is actually not the true source of the Missouri but it is none the less a branch of the river in which they followed since St. Louis until it became as wide as my boot is long). I can just imagine the joy the expedition experienced upon reaching it. I can also imagine the almost "sick" feeling they had when the looked over Lemhi Pass and seeing the Rocky Mountains stretch out before them to the horizon. They had thought it would be a 1 day's journey across them. I also attempted to locate the route to the controversial September 3rd, 1805 camp. I was using the map descriptions by historian and author Gene Eastman as well as the compass bearing and maps drawn by William Clark. In places I believe I found as old "Indian" trail that they had used. It was still visible in portions, matched up with Clarks map as well as his description of its location. This was not a "game trail" since, the animal use trails that go from food and water sources, where as the Indian Trails stayed high on ridges and were more in a direct line to avoid confrontations with their enemies etc. The terrain was relentless with thick trees and downed deadfall. Lots of bear sign (scat and areas where the tree stumps were ripped up in search of food.)The weather is cool and even chilly at night.<br /><br />Several forest fires are burning in the region with large crews of firefighters and helicopter hovering above with 300 gallon buckets of water suspended under them. I had another close encounter with a LARGE rattlesnake. I may have stepped on it. I was not sure but I immediately heard rattling and saw it coiled near my foot. Yikes!<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269847450526110146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXbekk7y64K6sTNCAM3E9ECSWNzLFjMKvEHMbBRtl7AYhndFctiUvpfg4zqgTo-gV6HotS2uMGVLiOPvk7SHJpxE644pLhv-bVn8RaF9ZW5fGIWRbhhdmh5-oBuWar5LEypMh/s400/d3.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: The Corp passed through this valley once they left their canoes behind and were seeking</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">horses from the Shoshone Indians which they did.</span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269847452173991330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmgXdGdxlrDbHo3wWwguAVuYrzl7W5qZ8xY6ad7gkETsQ1e7-dCiFneh2Dp4CP9-lkJsFR3LkMnTykA8OFPOATUdRaClm0Nbk6iDfPWEnEimTnIfl4OdSzRInzCYALEzIXkEV/s400/d4.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Believe it or not this rivulet of water pouring out of the rocks is exactly </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">where Lewis stood when he mentioned he had arrived at the "source of the Missouri</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">River". I wonder if any of this has changed?</span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 12, 1805"the main stream now after discarding two streams on the left in this valley turns abruptly to the west through a narrow bottom between the moutains. The road was still plain, I therefore did not dispair of shortly finding a passage over the mountains and of taisting the waters of the great Columbia this evening. M. Lewis (Continental Divide at Lemhi Pass, MT)</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 13, 1805"we had marched about 2 miles when we met a party of about 60 warriors mounted on excellent horses who came in nearly full speed, when they arrived I advanced towards them with the flag leaving my gun with the party about 50 paces behind me." M. Lewis</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269847458027253330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBddE9EiOgX_P1YYOXkTtSlE9jFzXY5ic_ELX67xbTb9wnGUnTnRAeUD8Cq9cx6jYOW2vTNEl1zrU8GMpRKUfqOCkTWKPoz6BZv1l10KiOeL8282xZ0edfMUUmp3ySBWSj8M8/s400/d5.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Self explanitory. This rock however was not here 200 years ago.</span></strong></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269848539815780130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUucyr0KE1TPutvRXZApC3QwVjTmp-JiPtmpKW2ZrN41FrVIdc6BovNdds1IbI5BUIj-WORw1vFmvwIzZfkcPfzypof7fVaeiyQHPSCyLmAbeJCRSovhfS_dwOahPc6XBts7ka/s400/d6.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Looking west from just over Lemhi Pass.</span></strong></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269848533527593618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaIc-l8JRihLpE6fbWD5K5uez1-Ew4KO6ATuc7JggOsJjMwyKtXyWq0JhMvKw73DF7t2faMP5B94IR8kIC7VFRf1PCHRJlbjO5_GIPyflpdm1M88GXqWoaUYyjqM6QeFg5H2Zq/s400/d8.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above and below: Plenty of rugged terrain to hike through. Little has changed in 200 years.</span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269848541678498082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJMuEfXy-eMRs0KwbRTbHn28zcm36YzkFrUVvcydrMUYXI5Gp73RFzOrrA0rb_WvksDZt7WTSP94af-2xJQdNehfgBfU2yEO6Qx6iLhFgxTRLlIpJ-VwInsRMf6MC1ZbRa7kX/s400/d7.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269848534640878082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW_HUu915jBkEmpOkOJlRWr9guzO0e11xo_worVr-fDeY-yS98ZqxTu454CojOUWxg0pe85L3PoBE_Kl37KaujQju5yPcVH4McaOcQZq8KYuPchZ9Sf09bGhQRARcghBqdqyRs/s400/d9.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Looking down into Ross Hole where L & C camped.</span></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">July 31, 1805"we have a lame crew just now, tow with tumers or bad boils on various parts of them, one with a bad stone bruise, one with his arm accedently dislocated but fortunately well replaced, and a fifth has streigned his back by sliping and falling backwards on the gunwall of the canoe." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 1, 1805"the mountains are extremely bare of timber and out rout lay through the steep valleys exposed to the heat of the sun without shade and scarcely a breath of air…" M Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 5, 1805"the river today they found streighter and more rapid even than yesterday, and the labour and difficulty of the navigation was proportionably increased, they therefore proceeded but slowly and with great pain as the men had become very languid from working in the water and many of their feet swolen and so painful that they could scarcely walk." M Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 7, 1805"Camped on the Lard side above the mouth of a bold running stream 12 yards wide, which we call turf Creek from the number of bogs & quanty of turf in its waters." Wm. Clark</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug, 10, 1805"we proceeded on passed a remarkable Clift point on the Stard side about 150 feet high, which clift the Indians call the Beavers head, opposite at 300 yards is a low clift of 50 feet which is a spur from the mountains…" Wm.Clark</span></em> </div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug, 11, 1805"found the river shallow and rapid, insomuch that the men wer compelled to be in the water a considerable proportion of the day in drageing the canoes over the shouals and riffles." M. Lewis (Near Dillon, Montana)</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 12, 1805"the main stream now after discarding two streams on the left in this valley turns abruptly to the west through a narrow bottom between the moutains. The road was still plain, I therefore did not dispair of shortly finding a passage over the mountains and of taisting the waters of the great Columbia this evening. M. Lewis (Continental Divide at Lemhi Pass, MT)</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 13, 1805"we had marched about 2 miles when we met a party of about 60 warriors mounted on excellent horses who came in nearly full speed, when they arrived I advanced towards them with the flag leaving my gun with the party about 50 paces behind me." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug, 16, 1805"I sent Drewyer and Shields before this morning in order to kill some meat as neither the Indians nor oursleves had any thing to eat." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 17, 1805" I had not proceeded on one mile before I saw at a distance several Indians on horsback comeing towards me, the interpreter & Squaw who were before me at some distance danced for the joyful sight, and she made signs to me that they were her nation…" Wm Clark (Sacagewea meets her people including her brother Chief Cameahwait)</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 18, 1805Purchased of the Indians three horses for which we gave a chiefs coat some handkerchiefs a shirt legins & a fiew arrow points &c." Wm Clark</span></em><br /><br /><a name="8"></a>August 11th, 2004<br />Several helicopter were transporting fire crews to the nearby forest fire that was started by a recent lightning strike. Very little smoke was present as the crews had it pretty much contained. I was leery about hiking towards the Lewis and Clark camp of September3, 1805 due to the possibility of being near a fire. I checked with the local fire crews and it was much further away than where I would be so I headed out through the forest.It was a cool day with temperatures only in the 70's. Using a topographic maps with the possible areas marked in black ink as to where the camp was located I felt confident I would be in the vicinity of where they spent a difficult night in the snow. The terrain was very steep with loose shale and scree making my progress very slow. Several bighorn sheep tracks were present but none were spotted. I eventually made it to the area where I thought looked like a possible "camping" place. It was the only flat area around and looked big enough for 30+ men and horses. All the major historians have disagreed as to this particular camps location and its true location may never be determined.I arrived in Lolo, Montana yesterday and stayed the night with my friend Graeme whom I worked with in Yellowstone years ago. Graeme's house is located a few miles from Travelers Rest where Lewis and Clark stayed a few days before heading over the Lolo Trail into what is now Idaho. The original fire ring and latrine were located last year by scientist using a device that detects mercury in the soil. While the expedition camped here many of the men were ill and given Dr. Rush's Pills, that contained mercury, which eventually ended up at the place, used as a "bathroom". The place was busy with tourist many arriving by bus and guided through the area that is now a state park.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269848535514707570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 341px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_7DXZhyphenhyphenpMOGstEcGes3Qg7u4i_L_h86AFbxjfjOoXO9X9YuLGVKZVv5Snu438XNFUWAfMfNSHZX0v2gbgCDUcvOruvVdDb-VWkUlZDzLdiZMxUjkSRWrjA2em_6VbowRF4OEv/s400/d10.jpg" border="0" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zFJ_cR68xOYdE6D5K0GY0ddpz8R18smH4Qme5oEWHYy8VRHrZbcMiRZ5T_nIaenqMCIas26oDNWHEtzV9wSNp15relZJISraRyjcboJ1ZP5LBCHFWzDLPferf9KDa4WdVtLv/s1600-h/d11.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269855227576275602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zFJ_cR68xOYdE6D5K0GY0ddpz8R18smH4Qme5oEWHYy8VRHrZbcMiRZ5T_nIaenqMCIas26oDNWHEtzV9wSNp15relZJISraRyjcboJ1ZP5LBCHFWzDLPferf9KDa4WdVtLv/s400/d11.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: The Bitterroot Valley of Montana</span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug, 16, 1805"I sent Drewyer and Shields before this morning in order to kill some meat as neither the Indians nor oursleves had any thing to eat." M. Lewis</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 17, 1805" I had not proceeded on one mile before I saw at a distance several Indians on horsback comeing towards me, the interpreter & Squaw who were before me at some distance danced for the joyful sight, and she made signs to me that they were her nation…" Wm Clark (Sacagewea meets her people including her brother Chief Cameahwait)</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 18, 1805Purchased of the Indians three horses for which we gave a chiefs coat some handkerchiefs a shirt legins & a fiew arrow points &c." Wm Clark</span></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzhL9e2YmP_XX1Npknhlzj_XSMTb-094y4ZxVs6MtPaqf0KfGwRJME5fEm11dt0FcSZoBUPtwcoO9c6iXOChh7dESzX0snNqXgPBydLJfBPvohFdAkNe5CWolqu77xphfdk0n/s1600-h/d12.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269855225977109266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzhL9e2YmP_XX1Npknhlzj_XSMTb-094y4ZxVs6MtPaqf0KfGwRJME5fEm11dt0FcSZoBUPtwcoO9c6iXOChh7dESzX0snNqXgPBydLJfBPvohFdAkNe5CWolqu77xphfdk0n/s400/d12.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Travelers Rest near Lolo Montana. This is the exact spot that</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Lewis & Clark camped. Scientist were able to discover the latreen built by the Corps as </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">high levels of mercury were found here. Mercury was the main ingredient in Dr. Rush's pills taken by the men when ill.</span></strong><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiWkG9MNtLt-C3j54o8ewStISTDZFP1vBia5cSDnCp7VgqWZ07p3zQRMd9cuSqpKz3QLM4NFqAJNEnLJj4Y7ef41lMOrSR4hdK7HwLmM5olV8A4A4Sm3fktxar5g6zSQPLQ2O/s1600-h/d13.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269854619920507074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpiWkG9MNtLt-C3j54o8ewStISTDZFP1vBia5cSDnCp7VgqWZ07p3zQRMd9cuSqpKz3QLM4NFqAJNEnLJj4Y7ef41lMOrSR4hdK7HwLmM5olV8A4A4Sm3fktxar5g6zSQPLQ2O/s400/d13.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Gene photographing the "original" Lolo Trail, still evident</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">after two centuries. Most likely has not been used since Chief Joseph fled across here</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">in 1865 headed to Canada.<br /></span></strong><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFolYY6_XbVPCnq_bauc0BU8o72j_bKZ5A_hbKcY0drAGT4ztABFDFyupYViugorDYTs7aOacFvMNk58CKFI10vt_Wr8w6P5vK4rrqX82j-qwIn0ZSEI55yxNxBXm-jjnK1KL/s1600-h/d14.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269854620116825282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFolYY6_XbVPCnq_bauc0BU8o72j_bKZ5A_hbKcY0drAGT4ztABFDFyupYViugorDYTs7aOacFvMNk58CKFI10vt_Wr8w6P5vK4rrqX82j-qwIn0ZSEI55yxNxBXm-jjnK1KL/s400/d14.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Me at Packer Meadows. This was actually taken 4-years after my journey </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">in Sept of 2008...the same month that L & C were here so the vegetation </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">probably looks just like it did in 1805.<br /><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe98UTvR2R0nVE6xR4SSvJUx_XRnPdwqFuUQZ1vr9L4BUjDHfCesoryD5ZutPd38sXm2n8sbl0ts-7QKhhDV8SWjEDhrpYx-bZQKi_6i8ErbMVirnHF2dMgFnfPRqI-WTpjIk/s1600-h/d15.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269854622698152434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLe98UTvR2R0nVE6xR4SSvJUx_XRnPdwqFuUQZ1vr9L4BUjDHfCesoryD5ZutPd38sXm2n8sbl0ts-7QKhhDV8SWjEDhrpYx-bZQKi_6i8ErbMVirnHF2dMgFnfPRqI-WTpjIk/s400/d15.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Packer Meadows. Virtually unchanged in 200 years!</span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><a name="23"></a>August 23-27, 2004<br />He introduced himself as Eb Tide from Russellville, Mo. His long white hair and beard along with his ability to recite Robert Service poetry gave him the appearance of having just stepped off the Klondike Gold rush Trail in Dawson City, Yukon. He is well known almost to cult status in the hiking world as the Nimble Nomad. At 67 years old Eb left St. Louis on foot back in May and is headed for the Pacific Ocean. A retired optometrist by trade Eb has traded in the simple uncluttered life by traveling on foot and backpack throughout North America. He has walked the Appalachian Trail, Key West to Newfoundland and Missouri to San Diego logging somewhere between 20-30 miles daily. His backpack weighed only 11 pounds which is almost unbelievable considering my camera equipment alone weighs 13 lbs. He poked fun at my heavy pack and water soaked boots as I tried to warm my cold and wet body up near the roaring fire. Sparks flew high like fireflies while the cold rain tried to beat out the flames. I had just descended down through steep terrain in hail and rain from what Lewis and Clark called "Snowbank Camp". It was here that they camped one miserable night using snow to cook with for there was no water nearby. My traveling companion for the last week is author and historian Gene Eastman. Gene has extensively researched the historic Lolo (Nee-Mee-Poo and Lewis and Clark) Trail over the Bitterroots Mountains. This trail also known as the Lolo Trail was in a sense the highway system for the Nez Perce and other Indian Tribes traveling to the summer Buffalo hunting grounds in the east and the fall Salmon fisheries along the Columbia. It was this trail that Lewis and Clark and the Corp. of Discovery traveled by horse over the snowy mountains to the waters of the Columbia led by an Indian guide whom they called "old Toby". Lewis and Clark nearly died from the cold and starvation only to survive by eating rations of portable soup, candles, and a few horses they had shot.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCm1k3uPNeJBzcVKNke5OlSgmoz4NgYjw2vMSpYYxkKsdJXe4Ln8pQR30uZSUijPGYDNkBzsWNHyYwOOz7CviVDZQ2EvQ6zwPkDFYGLZqNgjjy0j0KGR4sM_Dutv6QuCO64VHu/s1600-h/d16.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269854614550464530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCm1k3uPNeJBzcVKNke5OlSgmoz4NgYjw2vMSpYYxkKsdJXe4Ln8pQR30uZSUijPGYDNkBzsWNHyYwOOz7CviVDZQ2EvQ6zwPkDFYGLZqNgjjy0j0KGR4sM_Dutv6QuCO64VHu/s400/d16.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>Above: Packer Meadows near Lolo Pass. This low spot is the</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>original crossing for horses used by L&C. The rest of the stream banks</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>are too steep and the water too deep for safe horse crossing. One could </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>also see the deep trail tread before and aft of this crossing. Clark drew</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>these crossing on his detailed maps of the area</strong>.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_KwjuyXwlPpzpzXwaLJOIPoOHl3Y-frPEE4AJGR-G-vG8zlLUunqZNM0VZmepLlW_-l1U7HJQl7SdA7O1B2JkPBqHGS1JSa8NcPCo_ynd5LSYsPvh6PHUVmieXFpW45pLthx/s1600-h/d17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269854604273735122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_KwjuyXwlPpzpzXwaLJOIPoOHl3Y-frPEE4AJGR-G-vG8zlLUunqZNM0VZmepLlW_-l1U7HJQl7SdA7O1B2JkPBqHGS1JSa8NcPCo_ynd5LSYsPvh6PHUVmieXFpW45pLthx/s400/d17.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Gene inspecting Indian peeled tree. The Indians peeled the </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">bark off to use as feed for their horses and themselves. We found hundreds</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">such trees during our hike over the trail.<br /><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8uy6_1uiKqrHhZ2_g06e2Wv6PZuDPzeYyaZFPE-TkiuC-9rV2hxC36duaxBrtDZgbIRpJyxhZAc46Ny45F_eR1nRpc9zfAYQuzQcMSP9ByNeT2tZnco8agyFQf1qxt1Lt-Xme/s1600-h/d18.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269853368529265074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 306px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8uy6_1uiKqrHhZ2_g06e2Wv6PZuDPzeYyaZFPE-TkiuC-9rV2hxC36duaxBrtDZgbIRpJyxhZAc46Ny45F_eR1nRpc9zfAYQuzQcMSP9ByNeT2tZnco8agyFQf1qxt1Lt-Xme/s400/d18.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Gene and I looking over copies of Clarks Maps and compass</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">reading. The original trail was evident throughout our journey using</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">the journals and Clarks maps.<br /></span></strong><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUpAwBslNXV8g5LcqhNKfvTsv_jnB9JhoWS-3FErG-O9oF0UbsCM73zhIeX6qlns_NNPIJoHJCzh5PIpCo0YSEXQi5zjt4t8roUs4TuyC2YefL2eDGqH5egoso9jZ2pFX9h5D/s1600-h/d19.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269853361575877986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUpAwBslNXV8g5LcqhNKfvTsv_jnB9JhoWS-3FErG-O9oF0UbsCM73zhIeX6qlns_NNPIJoHJCzh5PIpCo0YSEXQi5zjt4t8roUs4TuyC2YefL2eDGqH5egoso9jZ2pFX9h5D/s400/d19.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Ponderosa Pines along the real L & C Trail.<br /></span></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxJW0Yq-IGWo7wcjR4TSPZKI00Tx3NEe_ADlh-dUc9HBT5PURs-F0m57auWoiutD4AUT3fPyQSf91Z45rrwmppuusKPLg5rJ1cvJD_FyVoAbKLoH0biQrCVYz4y74ROicFkUS/s1600-h/d20.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269853358008929298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxJW0Yq-IGWo7wcjR4TSPZKI00Tx3NEe_ADlh-dUc9HBT5PURs-F0m57auWoiutD4AUT3fPyQSf91Z45rrwmppuusKPLg5rJ1cvJD_FyVoAbKLoH0biQrCVYz4y74ROicFkUS/s400/d20.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Lewis and Clark found fishing weirs built along this stream </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">when they passed. This is near the old village along Crooked Fork.</span></strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />The Lolo Trail is perhaps our countries oldest if not the longest intact ancient trail, having been used for centuries by Native Americans. Gene along with his wife Mollie have been researching the location and history of the Lolo Trail as well as trying to get the U.S. Forest Service to recognize this trail as a significant part of our national heritage. The Eastman's have stacks of old maps, historic journals, aerial photos, Forest Service records and other information dating back to the 1800's. Over the last few decades the Clearwater National Forest has initiated Trail Obliteration projects which have literally been destroying portions of the Lolo Trail. These projects are a violation of the National Heritage Prevention Act of 1966 and the Protection of Historic and Cultural Properties Law (Title 36-CFR).</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Mollie has a 1995 Forest Service handbook stating that they intend to spend as much money covering and destroying abandoned trail as they have in the past in creating trails. I have witnessed for myself areas of the trail that have been filled in with logs and dirt as well as entire areas where trees were cut down across the old trail. Please read the note at the bottom of this page and click on the link to Gene Eastmans report on the destruction of this National Historic Landmark by the U.S. Forest Service.In the week I have spent hiking the trail with Eastman I have witnessed huge clearcuts in which skidder roads were built overtop the historic trail.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">The U.S. Forest Service claims the original trail doesn't exist. The trail that is "advertised" as the real Lolo Trail is actually a Forest Service improvement trail or system of trails that have slowly evolved over time beginning in the 1930's. The original trail was used by the Indian nations up until the late 1800's. In 1866 Dr. Bird and Major Truax received a contract to construct the Virginia City to Lewiston Wagon Road. Instead of a road they constructed a packhorse trail over the mountains which parallels the Lolo Trail and sometimes even uses the original trail itself. In the 1907-1930's with the development of the U.S. Forest Service, trails were constructed using portions of the original trail but making it more user friendly by installing switchbacks and shortening sections to avoid the often steep terrain the Indians traveled on.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Over the last half century it is obvious to see that the Lolo Trail is something the Clearwater National Forest District wished was not on their land. Mollie states that the Forest Service is "making the trail the driving road"; so that once the bicentennial is over they will be able to log both sides of the road like they have over the past 50 years. They are in a sense gradually moving the real trail, creating a false trail, destroying the real trail, and then claiming the "fake" trail is where Lewis and Clark walked. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">My interest in history goes back to my childhood growing up in Grayling, Michigan. I learned so much about history by going to the places where the events actually took place such as the Little Bighorn Battlefield, Gettysburg, Amelia Earhart's childhood home, Edison's laboratory, or the Indian ruins of Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon. It was at these historic places where the events unfolded and became a part of our history and culture. If someone decided to move the Little Bighorn Battlefield several miles from its original location and then stated that "this is where Custer was slain by the Sioux", it would have little meaning to me. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I would be very disappointed if that was the case with our historical sites around the country. Who wants to visit the site of a historical event when it is actually located somewhere else? If your going to say that an event happened "here", then it better have happened there and not some other location. I would feel cheated out of my Lewis and Clark experience if I was not walking on the real Lolo Trail.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Gu1VBsnEoeEi1Vc-MEmsvkoe9G50hPxIRgPMMucgZTgsFau86ULcFuyb7Q_ULqpl3YSsiKXrtZNfNTQBiQck0ekSVntmj5jO1YHaSK-cnXyaESginQFMI8Jta8qNoGcmchlW/s1600-h/d21.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269853359387033554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 193px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Gu1VBsnEoeEi1Vc-MEmsvkoe9G50hPxIRgPMMucgZTgsFau86ULcFuyb7Q_ULqpl3YSsiKXrtZNfNTQBiQck0ekSVntmj5jO1YHaSK-cnXyaESginQFMI8Jta8qNoGcmchlW/s400/d21.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Approaching storm mixed with fire smoke.<br /></span></strong><br /></div><div align="left"><br />Eastman has walked hundreds of miles using old maps; Clarks compass recordings, and Lewis & Clark journal descriptions to locate the remains of the Lolo, Nee-Mee-Poo, and Lewis and Clark Trail (all the same trail). In the week I have been walking I have clearly seen the evidence of the trails existence. The trail tread is still visible on the ground even though it has not been used for over a hundred years. The trail has felt the pounding of horse hooves for possibly as far back as 4000 years creating a visible trail evident over time. At times I had to literally get on my hands and knees to see the trail ditch under the thick growth of brush and huckleberry bushes but it was there still visible with little or no vegetation growing in it. Other times the trail seemed lost to logging and skidder roads only to be located once again at the other end where the forest has been undisturbed. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Gene has come to understand the great map maker William Clark whose maps many claim to be childish scribbling when in fact upon close examination they almost seem three dimensional. When listening to Eastman describe the smallest of symbols on Clark's maps I almost feel as if he was with Clark when he created them. Another key ingredient to Gene's recipe is his wife Mollie. Born near where Lewis and Clark grew up in Virginia she has been able to decipher the meaning of certain terms used to describe creeks and streams. For example when Clark states "we crossed a run to the right", Mollie knows that a "Run" is a small stream that takes three steps to cross. A "spring" is smaller. A "spring run" equals 1 step across, a "drain" is a place where water runs or streams flow together. These are all terms Mollie has come to know while growing up in Virginia. Each part of the country has its own meanings for words such as how we describe a "soda" and a "pop" to mean the same thing. Knowing these measurements has played a key roll in locating the direction the Corp. Of Discovery traveled in 1805 as well as many of their camp locations of which over half are misplaced by the Forest Service. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Many sites don't even come close to matching the journal descriptions by William Clark. Gene has showed me original trail tread of not only the Lolo Trail but also that of the Bird Truax 1866 Trail, and the 1904 -1930's Forest Service Improvement Trails. We encountered the "three hacked blaze" mark of the Bird Truax expedition on an old tree in which Gene took a core sample of the new growth to determine how long ago it was cut. It was 138 years old! Gene pointed out literally hundred of pealed trees in which the Indians cut the cambium layer of the bark to obtain sugar and nutrients during times of hunger. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I could still see evidence of the knife cuts along the scars. These scars never heal and almost become indestructible even to forest fires. Oft times when the trail seemed too vague to follow we would encounter more pealed trees indicating we were close if not already on the trail.I could almost hear Gene's brain working as I watched him walk through the forest. Carrying a GPS in one hand and an aluminum hiking staff in the other, his camera vest stuffed full of notes, maps, GPS coordinates, compass, binoculars, and a tree ring aging increment borer. Gene seems as if he has been chosen by a higher calling in this important project. Staring at the ground looking for any sign of the trail he is so focused on his work that my questions sometimes go unanswered. This may be partly due to the fact that he is hard of hearing but I think its more like he has drifted back to 1805 and is traveling with Lewis and Clark.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Gene is a retired game warden and is very woodsmen savvy. He and Mollie practically spend nearly their entire summer months researching and walking the old trail. Gene says "If I think I'm on the trail I'm not, but if I know I'm on the trail I am." At camp Gene carries an old briefcase with a bumper sticker on the outside that says "I Love DOS". The brief case is full of old maps, and thousands of GPS coordinates which are the locations and evidence of the trails existence. Gene also has thousands of photos which document the trail as well as of the trail obliteration projects by the U.S. Forest Service. Gene seems to have enough evidence of Forest Service abuse and mis-management that would bring a smile to any Heritage lawyers face.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYYevaMvLjOH2xFQeQ_l5lx8cHs2vtSC_iDuwUy5AECah1i7HcAOtv1S6Xa0R66DYXIvQ9Gn0y6jIy_jEbI18IQ9gshwi8xz4SRehbRaI_W0ZUXtzXqCQUd_h9HhuHVLtUW5-/s1600-h/d22.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269853353716935730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 371px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAYYevaMvLjOH2xFQeQ_l5lx8cHs2vtSC_iDuwUy5AECah1i7HcAOtv1S6Xa0R66DYXIvQ9Gn0y6jIy_jEbI18IQ9gshwi8xz4SRehbRaI_W0ZUXtzXqCQUd_h9HhuHVLtUW5-/s400/d22.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Gene with increment borer, used to count tree rings to </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">determine age of tree. This blaze is an original Bird-Truax 1866 Blaze. They </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">surveyed the Lewis & Clark Trail that year. The "new" growth around the blaze scar was</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">determined to be 138 years old which from 2004 back..would put it to the year of the B-T expedition.<br /></div></span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="left"><br /></span></strong><br />I hope that through public awareness the REAL Lolo trail will be recognized as a Historic Landmark and preserved as such. With the bicentennial celebration now upon us it is important that the people know that the publicized Lolo Trail is not the one traveled by the American Indians for centuries or by Lewis and Clark in 1805/06, but a reconstructed trail system. There is much more information that I could write about this topic that would probably fill a book of its own but I hope this is just the stepping stone for the process to begin.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">The hail began to fall faster as the cold rain dripped off the rim of my hat. My body completely wet from walking through chest deep huckleberry bushes we pressed on towards Cayuse Junction. An hour before we were on the summit of Mt. Marcy where Gene claims Lewis and Clark camped on Sept. 15, 1805. His location matches the L&C journals; Clarks compass bearing as well as the distance they walked from the previous night's encampment. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">As I sat on a fallen log eating an orange, I could almost see William Clark standing on the small outcrop of rock nearby looking around at the 360 degree view. I could almost feel their hunger as they were scarce on food and had to kill another horse to eat. Tired, wet, hungry, focused on their mission, they proceeded on. So did we.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBvvZpAe17vXGFLslSKrwGWuxJVg2YtVl_ecCvjfbLE-SfFHvKMHPP-e-FfjaTLcT9vd_6YOuNn95xKx8qPujx6k7aG8aXBsy_p4b8B3MA6DcoLK3jDjHjmKw0c7qZrwIYsts/s1600-h/DSCN1564.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269852463553186210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBvvZpAe17vXGFLslSKrwGWuxJVg2YtVl_ecCvjfbLE-SfFHvKMHPP-e-FfjaTLcT9vd_6YOuNn95xKx8qPujx6k7aG8aXBsy_p4b8B3MA6DcoLK3jDjHjmKw0c7qZrwIYsts/s400/DSCN1564.JPG" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: The US Forest Service and Timber harvest</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">boundary on the Lewis&Clark Trail.<br /></span></strong><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-LZw9tZh9iY_Nqnq75Nw2kKJpZrqeq4Ysg0eTYM3HIw8VNlz_rTe0ouRRwBInR6x-c5214Hr9XNxJRiHfugvDXx2GH62Lm1s_0n6a5MbrrHEWGHBBQQwmVSuVMyCWgXLUtdS/s1600-h/d24.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269852458594557554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-LZw9tZh9iY_Nqnq75Nw2kKJpZrqeq4Ysg0eTYM3HIw8VNlz_rTe0ouRRwBInR6x-c5214Hr9XNxJRiHfugvDXx2GH62Lm1s_0n6a5MbrrHEWGHBBQQwmVSuVMyCWgXLUtdS/s400/d24.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Me ascending Wendover Ridge.<br /></span></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEy4iWtb_Y42dgKglJLu09EtkMMK1wWATTzlPxWbBewDJt_EoFWW2SCQjeKky8EVxT-uQtclxp6rTzdzlcbE9NnDikPNM_mzi9ceVMB2RCHcrpaDJZZ2nX43PMy94DYsQDv2Hp/s1600-h/d25.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269852450008752194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 341px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEy4iWtb_Y42dgKglJLu09EtkMMK1wWATTzlPxWbBewDJt_EoFWW2SCQjeKky8EVxT-uQtclxp6rTzdzlcbE9NnDikPNM_mzi9ceVMB2RCHcrpaDJZZ2nX43PMy94DYsQDv2Hp/s400/d25.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Evidence of the US Forest Service Trail Oblitertion Project.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">The real Neemeepoo (Lolo Trail) lies to the right of Gene in the photo.</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">The original historic trail was covered up by the Forest Service. This is a violation</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">of the Historic Preservatin Act.<br /></span></strong><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6aKI4_4r2avySrJ7jYfWIZhFq5e4aifkU1Ad4QmgXp2fHBPpRs0xeYGBLt9E35B06ukXCB93v70LZ_h9KqhSUsXhzP8853_VokRjoKBPuO7iyrfrOby5y14J9aLATps0vBp9/s1600-h/d27.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269852446905354706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6aKI4_4r2avySrJ7jYfWIZhFq5e4aifkU1Ad4QmgXp2fHBPpRs0xeYGBLt9E35B06ukXCB93v70LZ_h9KqhSUsXhzP8853_VokRjoKBPuO7iyrfrOby5y14J9aLATps0vBp9/s400/d27.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Me with Whitehouse Pond in the background.<br /></span></strong></div><div align="left"><br />After an hour I became warm again around the blazing fire. Mollie kept pumping me full of hot coffee and snack food which helped boost my tired mood. In the morning Eb was packed and determined to walk 30 miles. I reached out my hand to shake his goodbye as he extended his forward to meet mine. With our grips firm and true we gazed into one another's eyes without uttering a single word. I could read in his eyes and feel in his grip all that needed to be said and I'm sure he the same of mine.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">After what seemed like several minutes we released our grips, he turned and headed west.Gene and Mollie's book: "Bitterroot Crossing; Lewis and Clark across the Lolo Trail" is published by University of Idaho Library 2002 can be purchased through the University of Idaho Library or on Amazon. They are currently working on there 2nd book as well as the second edition of the first book.Eb can be reached via his hiking website at www.nimblewillnomad.com Please check out his web site and encourage him along the way. He hopes to reach the waters of the Pacific by the middle of September. He also has published three books which can be purchased on his web site. One is entitled "A Million Steps" (or something like that).<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_2Af5mH9VLQ9KdBKJhFkuJUfrGn27iSrpCDR9a-ZRW5uPIlwApLOye2oQ0-Ldj4GnST0YPHKONGKkaCw_U67UN0vohBRPD1FPusxEmnEdFXWB6cqzGPAGAHyfRA8smV4j4w5/s1600-h/d28.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269852445516072098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_2Af5mH9VLQ9KdBKJhFkuJUfrGn27iSrpCDR9a-ZRW5uPIlwApLOye2oQ0-Ldj4GnST0YPHKONGKkaCw_U67UN0vohBRPD1FPusxEmnEdFXWB6cqzGPAGAHyfRA8smV4j4w5/s400/d28.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Me, Eb (The Nimblewill Nomad) and Gene. Eb nearly</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">70years old walked from St. Louis to here and eventually went on</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">to the Pacific. (In 2006 Eb walked all the way back to St. Louis...and to </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">top that in 2007 he walked from Mexico to Canada along the Continental Divide Trail, and in</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">2008 he walked again from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail!)<br /><br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxP9pE66KQGchrDvrEnshE3n8FftPrCi2Vxijm6riTfHukuVOnWOBEd7IMQO8gOEwdbuUrLeABsLHMY0ErN64OmPlFOhi90XkIrrPaiMfiV6nFY5TPQ72PeycGIydggXfPXobA/s1600-h/d29.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269850921305594066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 333px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxP9pE66KQGchrDvrEnshE3n8FftPrCi2Vxijm6riTfHukuVOnWOBEd7IMQO8gOEwdbuUrLeABsLHMY0ErN64OmPlFOhi90XkIrrPaiMfiV6nFY5TPQ72PeycGIydggXfPXobA/s400/d29.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Wet feet still! Its been abot 5-months </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">since my feet were completely dry!</span></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></strong></div><div align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 12, 1804"Crossed a mountain 8 miles with out water & rencamped on a hill side on the creek after decending a long steep mountain…" Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 14, 1805"a cloudy day in the valies it rained and hailed, on the top of the mountains some snow fell we set out early and crossed a high mountain on the right of the creek for 6 miles to the forks of the Glade Creek." Wm Clark (Site of present day Powell Ranger Station)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 15, 1805"From this mountain I could observe high ruged mountains in every direction as far as I could see. With the greatest exertion we could only make 12 miles up this mountain…we melted snow to drink, and cook our horse flesh to eat." Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 16, 1805"I have been wet and as cold in every part as I ever was in my life, indeed I was at one time fearfull my feet would freeze in the thin Mockirsons which I wore" Wm Clark (Near Indian Post Office Lake, Clearwater National Forest)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 17, 1805"snow falling from the trees which kept us wet all after noon passed several high ruged knobs and deveral dreans & springs passing to the right…" Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 18, 1805"we dined & suped on a skant proportion of portable soupe, a few canester of which, a little bears oil and about 20 lbs of candles form our stock of provisions." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 19, 1805"Set out early proceeded on up the Hungry Creek passing through a small glade at 6 miles at which place we found a horse. I derected him killed and hung up for the party…" Wm Clark</span></em><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkl1CKflQaXlQ3Wt7v9NaSN69nfM_AQOL9aXkBTl9PtW8bLp8pHuLhkJ9jB4-zwFwVU-KRlhgEn0mVtbN7HaZ5JtvjxqCMycSPUYurmY2KqBR_baAAiJinkHGiEH8dFshJ4V6g/s1600-h/d30.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269850915195340418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkl1CKflQaXlQ3Wt7v9NaSN69nfM_AQOL9aXkBTl9PtW8bLp8pHuLhkJ9jB4-zwFwVU-KRlhgEn0mVtbN7HaZ5JtvjxqCMycSPUYurmY2KqBR_baAAiJinkHGiEH8dFshJ4V6g/s400/d30.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Mollie Eastman provided the vehicle support while Gene and I hiked</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">the trail during the day. It was always nice to come out to a warm</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">fire and hot drinks.<br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJJyzJP3-Usr9TWqgPlHpR9TdDw5eCM3kt3xINLDt_Vs4K__0HeomGahuxQztmeSIliAyobPOx5agxEbPCC8NreyQ6l_Km267Eelv6sZTrPVv8MBJrIHJkO1SMwEcYEJiZ9YL/s1600-h/d31.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269850914180601234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJJyzJP3-Usr9TWqgPlHpR9TdDw5eCM3kt3xINLDt_Vs4K__0HeomGahuxQztmeSIliAyobPOx5agxEbPCC8NreyQ6l_Km267Eelv6sZTrPVv8MBJrIHJkO1SMwEcYEJiZ9YL/s400/d31.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Foggy morning!<br /></span></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_W5KSb4h_Fhwgg2XxdLOlXdaJT8L5a49CDrqqRZk4Kyj4tE6wO1GyD9gy8qTfd1JTk_sDIU28vk9HTuSf5GuGDL7USoZiyRP3fQfPij8lmZLcEWA72UHp0cXBZRF6mpdN_YT/s1600-h/d32.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269850907600631410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_W5KSb4h_Fhwgg2XxdLOlXdaJT8L5a49CDrqqRZk4Kyj4tE6wO1GyD9gy8qTfd1JTk_sDIU28vk9HTuSf5GuGDL7USoZiyRP3fQfPij8lmZLcEWA72UHp0cXBZRF6mpdN_YT/s400/d32.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Above Photo: Me atop No-see-um Ridge. Behind me you could see the plains of </span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Weippe mentioned in the L&C journals.<br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">The cold water burned my feet as I stood in Hungry Creek watching Gene slowly wade through the chilly water to the where I was standing. One slip in the 40 degree water would have been very life threatening for both of us. I knew Gene had problems with his balance so I was ready to jump back in the river and grab him if he fell in.We crossed Hungry Creek several times in the three days we traveled along the remote creek. We managed to cross without any problems except for one brief moment when Gene dropped his hiking boots in which he was carrying into the river. I was glad they were tied together because when I grabbed one boot, I actually had both. Had Genes boots been taken away by the current we would have been in serious trouble. The terrain is the roughest country I have ever walked in and Gene would have had to walk out in a pair of water sandals. I am not sure he would have been able to do so. In the three days we spent in Hungry Creek we walked a total of 36 hours and only covered about 12 miles. One night we traveled until the sun went down and were at least 3 hours from where we intended to camp on a high ridge. Since our sleeping bags, trap, food, and stove were all at the high camp we had to bivy in a groove of cedar trees where we slept in our rain gear near a small fire we kept burning all night until the sun came up.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMUIlPVAEY7-fYAEY18SNeLjCgnX8HKliXadbWVzh3XHcjsR1OSRbBll07a6QtdwndhUf3iyVlW0ma5W4P5qPARV_96tFkjzlnnrIaMYqRwz5ZLsy2bmF2GHnc6bUWe4zTVSp/s1600-h/d33.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269850906604961234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMUIlPVAEY7-fYAEY18SNeLjCgnX8HKliXadbWVzh3XHcjsR1OSRbBll07a6QtdwndhUf3iyVlW0ma5W4P5qPARV_96tFkjzlnnrIaMYqRwz5ZLsy2bmF2GHnc6bUWe4zTVSp/s400/d33.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo Above: Looking into Hungry Creek. The Lewis & Clark route was basically right of the creek.<br /></span></strong></div><div align="center"><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisISf78r4hZx00mgaPnZuf5v6QXO1EkvI1yM_pWwV1WPYGjCFdYWrF4WxTwu4EILsjHkLMW2hbot8xTz7YFBQcWfTJCmWQ2uX2yBhDS31-4w3y6Ovf_r5NJx9QMdBmr83gX8CB/s1600-h/d34.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269849916703974402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisISf78r4hZx00mgaPnZuf5v6QXO1EkvI1yM_pWwV1WPYGjCFdYWrF4WxTwu4EILsjHkLMW2hbot8xTz7YFBQcWfTJCmWQ2uX2yBhDS31-4w3y6Ovf_r5NJx9QMdBmr83gX8CB/s400/d34.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo Above: Gene dropping into Hungry Creek.<br /></span></strong><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwuN4aNcTWvWZqS7vc7g319pTkyNlHul0CNBYLwAZXWz5npymV570scpTBUBXOFAOrEESaOMDtQBKbS72TxIxIgNseXwCR4BzRItt1nvx9QCJBnQ6bHFNRqboKbsHcgkX3C3h/s1600-h/d35.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269849912206890706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 309px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwuN4aNcTWvWZqS7vc7g319pTkyNlHul0CNBYLwAZXWz5npymV570scpTBUBXOFAOrEESaOMDtQBKbS72TxIxIgNseXwCR4BzRItt1nvx9QCJBnQ6bHFNRqboKbsHcgkX3C3h/s400/d35.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo Above: Gene tired, wet, and beat after descending down into Hungry Creek. This area is one of the most rugged and remotest of the whole Lewis and Clark Trail.<br /></span></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0TMQBsY7jbVLOMATa9GQ9665TEhRwOtS2G3Hx5f0Upg_jjivqOxWdorxqdcBomUGaFw6Gr-ffbwK0LT35uGZmLMiPIIXyLu6m05DgEHW6PnNBpo6rFbD4J6-StVsbQqa_N_g/s1600-h/d36.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269849914046600914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0TMQBsY7jbVLOMATa9GQ9665TEhRwOtS2G3Hx5f0Upg_jjivqOxWdorxqdcBomUGaFw6Gr-ffbwK0LT35uGZmLMiPIIXyLu6m05DgEHW6PnNBpo6rFbD4J6-StVsbQqa_N_g/s400/d36.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo Above: Gene walking through Hungry Creek. The rocks were extremely slippery and the water very cold. We didn't dare fall in. Gene actually dropped his hiking boots in the water near this photo while changing into his wading sandles. It would have been difficult for him to hike out had we lost them to the creek.<br /></span></strong></div><div align="left"><br />After traveling through this region one has a better appreciation for what Lewis and Clark went through. They suffered dearly! Very little game was killed and they survived by shooting some of their horses. They also ate there supply of candles and portable soup. Cold, tired, walking through snow in wet buckskin, having some of their horses fall from the trail hundreds of feet into the river, and wondering if they would ever get over the mountains before winter set in. There were many times when I became frustrated with our progress through the dense brush and I tried not to take it out on my hiking partner Gene. For a man almost in his 70's he never complained about his exhaustion even through I could see it on his face. He would have continued until he dropped had I not suggested bivying and building a fire short of our intended destination, instead of traveling three more hours in the dark. I could tell it meant a lot to him to walk through this section of the Lolo trail. He has been immersed in the Lewis and Clark expedition through here for several years. I have learned a great deal from him and his wife Mollie. I felt confident in locating the original trail tread in many places and feel well versed in management of the Clearwater National Forest. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">It's a shame that so many people who travel the "Lolo Trail" think they are on the original trail that Lewis and Clark traveled on. I got to see many areas on the original trail that were filled in with dirt and logs as part of the <em>Trail Obliteration Projects</em> by the U.S. Forest Service. They're slowly moving the real trail to accommodate logging and destroying the cultural and heritage resources of this ancient trail. It's like moving Mt. Vernon to Ohio and then telling the people it's the real Mt. Vernon as Mollie would often say. I hope that through public knowledge and the publication of their new book that people will begin to put pressure on the Clearwater National Forest in preserving our country's oldest and longest intact trail. Thanks to Gene and Mollie Eastman for making dreams come true. My two weeks with you were the most challenging, rewarding, and highlight of my long journey. Thanks you very much for the hospitality, I appreciate it. Let's save the Lolo Trail from further destruction!</div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQ3SCMhrYYK0uVWvWniHWAHnTgk9Jb75U9DE6sSDQmfs581pv2qF_WszoSiU4gxrweRUgq33FN7JFGaysqC6rGANpMwmj-n-mbp-1xC5MmL3mQOi2iM8b3VBEItjj9UOpeO5x/s1600-h/d37.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269849909618585378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQ3SCMhrYYK0uVWvWniHWAHnTgk9Jb75U9DE6sSDQmfs581pv2qF_WszoSiU4gxrweRUgq33FN7JFGaysqC6rGANpMwmj-n-mbp-1xC5MmL3mQOi2iM8b3VBEItjj9UOpeO5x/s400/d37.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Gene providing the protection! At times I wished he would have used it on me, the route was very tough through Hungry Creek. Gene prevailed well being a few dacades older than me.<br /><br /></span></strong><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 20, 1805 "descended the mountains to a leavel pine countrey proceeded on through a butifull countrey for three miles to a small plain in which I found many Indian lodges…""They call themselves Cho pun-nish or Pierced noses. Their diolect appears verry different from the flat heads…" Wm Clark (Present site of Weippe Prairie, Idaho)</span></em></div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><div align="center"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 21, 1805"I collected a horse load of roots & 3 sammon & sent R. Fields with one Indian to meet Capt. Lewis at 4 oclock set out with the other men to the river, passed thro a fine pine countrey decended a steep ruged hill verry long to a small river which comes from our left…" Wm. Clark (Present site of Orofino, Idahao)<br /></span></em><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwOupRFjYpOH6G8mDZCfn_ETQmpu641Xy07FIip4cb3lKwmg2dkHqwKlmIEiCX-Arjotseb35R43HlmVb_RnOehsUZb-5gimHjjIhhev9KVV8oa7XG-42-SA8oPxxC7tGOnRc/s1600-h/d38.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269849908649587138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwOupRFjYpOH6G8mDZCfn_ETQmpu641Xy07FIip4cb3lKwmg2dkHqwKlmIEiCX-Arjotseb35R43HlmVb_RnOehsUZb-5gimHjjIhhev9KVV8oa7XG-42-SA8oPxxC7tGOnRc/s400/d38.jpg" border="0" /></a>Above: Weippe Prairie, Idaho<br /><br />The End of Part 8!<br /><br />Scroll Down for more post!<br /><br /><div><div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-35789240520422798992008-09-22T10:55:00.000-07:002008-09-22T12:25:39.614-07:00<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Part 7: In the Wake of Discovery: Great Falls to Three Forks</span></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2lcFBZnXvY0GHllNSSqpbrQaTFTaa2a1wCMSiPiic96K_6qIyIMzeoR9debKrrSIEgha2ZU9dA5eJeNLYytKt6Q_pLh9uqS_7BmtlrKMXcIzO_q-hVG4n3FPkqx-WrbLc9rZ/s1600-h/blog201.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248916409273276322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2lcFBZnXvY0GHllNSSqpbrQaTFTaa2a1wCMSiPiic96K_6qIyIMzeoR9debKrrSIEgha2ZU9dA5eJeNLYytKt6Q_pLh9uqS_7BmtlrKMXcIzO_q-hVG4n3FPkqx-WrbLc9rZ/s400/blog201.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"><a name="19"></a><strong>July 19-22, 2004<br /></strong>The two fawns stood looking intent to my approaching canoe. One hand was paddling while the other held the camera up to my eye ready for the perfect photo. I came within a boat length and clicked away exposure after exposure. The fawns did not know what to make of the strange creature at the waters edge. I'm sure mom or dad never explained to them what a canoe was. The mother deer had bolted minutes before as it was obvious she knew what I was while the fawns could care less. The kept looking back for mother and then looking forward at me, then taking a drink of water from the river. I watched them for several minutes before they too bolted for cover. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I am fast approaching the mountains. Even though the river is extremely crooked, the high hills get bigger and bigger. The river is also not as wide as it has been in the past. I can even throw a stone across it in several places while most of it is just out of my reach. Lewis and Clark left Great Falls in 8 heavily loaded canoes which they built out of cottonwood trees. I can't imagine paddling a 33 foot dugout canoe that weighed close to 8000 pounds! That is about 7700 more pounds than I have the pleasure of pulling through the current. (Lucky me!) Today I was actually forced to camp early due to the heavy headwinds which slowed my progress to almost a standstill. It has been a long time since I have been wind bound. I am hoping to make it to Gates of the Rocky Mountains in about 5 days. Three Forks by the last weekend of the month. From there I get to trade in my paddle for a pair of hiking boots for about a month. I am looking forward to resting my tired body for awhile. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVK4383RDMpznDrJX27KA5tgb4h20eupLg7T9jtsY6cwl8zM94vPPgmMidPogjMnJRoI4gb9JTwQZIcC9p7rpnNngTtnP-s539o64LTEEgLkk5BUz0LEqipZsCIf-Td7Z3Ln9e/s1600-h/blog200.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248916413464577570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVK4383RDMpznDrJX27KA5tgb4h20eupLg7T9jtsY6cwl8zM94vPPgmMidPogjMnJRoI4gb9JTwQZIcC9p7rpnNngTtnP-s539o64LTEEgLkk5BUz0LEqipZsCIf-Td7Z3Ln9e/s400/blog200.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Photo: Junked cars near Great Falls. Used as a form of bank stablization.</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenuSgb4EUNJG0cNbUVNBFS_75ssjxm81Hvv6AjicHoftZ2dUHUIwLYFay8StKaofTnyEFAdrvlqpLpZztKta4PKSsuCvIwn6_OGWDTNPtAT0R53VXsX8mZSqoaeHgoSGKFwvs/s1600-h/blog202.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915922079997170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenuSgb4EUNJG0cNbUVNBFS_75ssjxm81Hvv6AjicHoftZ2dUHUIwLYFay8StKaofTnyEFAdrvlqpLpZztKta4PKSsuCvIwn6_OGWDTNPtAT0R53VXsX8mZSqoaeHgoSGKFwvs/s400/blog202.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Photo above: My laptop and satallite phone used to send updates to my website. I am probably the first and only person ever to canoe across the country with such equipement.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkPjv7DDzIoFfsQtcHdSUx8WFH4k_hParkDlWG9So8Dj6qUaDpPa5cshBkFd347CPucMl0ho1_UwoMz_JTvUvtyJtN6VltEDyWgoBnlAfa9CP71RTbo2qWw0s0UMRY9n216Xe/s1600-h/blog203.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915929782057570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkPjv7DDzIoFfsQtcHdSUx8WFH4k_hParkDlWG9So8Dj6qUaDpPa5cshBkFd347CPucMl0ho1_UwoMz_JTvUvtyJtN6VltEDyWgoBnlAfa9CP71RTbo2qWw0s0UMRY9n216Xe/s400/blog203.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">July 15, 1805 "We arose very early this morning, assigned the canoes their loads and had it put on boars. We now found our vessels eight in number all heavily laden…" M. Lewis </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">"The sunflower is in bloom and abundant in the river bottoms. The indians of the Missouri particularly those who do not cultivate maze make great uce of the seed of this plant for bread, or use it in thickening their soope." M.Lewis </span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">""the emence high precipces oblige all the pary to pass & repass the river from one point to another the river confined in maney places in a verry narrow chanel from 70 to 120 yards wide bottoms narrow without timber and maney places the mountain approach on both sides…" Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"> July 18, 1805"this handsome bold and clear stream we named in honour of the Secretary of war calling it Dearborn's river" M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">July 19, 1805"this evening we entered much the most remarkable clifts that we have yet seen. These clifts rise from the waters edge on either side perpendicularly to the hight of about 1200 feet. The towering and projecting rocks in many places seem ready to tumble on us. From the singular appearance of this place I called it the gates of the rocky mountains." M. Lewis"my feet is verry much brused & cut walking over the flint, & constantly stuck full Prickly pear thorns, I pulled out 17 by the light of the fire tonight." Wm. Clark Ju</span></em></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oDryHEv-eyxDZPq2hriVBCiFCSyUl-ESr_604VU0GcyQtoU1PtIcrd6YO1iFoVLxyno6aYkw7Zmch0ChomTRu3BSQeybdQkmShdHQgE3vf3IqvY9_j87n-x0eskW2N0hF4qJ/s1600-h/blog204.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915935500311778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oDryHEv-eyxDZPq2hriVBCiFCSyUl-ESr_604VU0GcyQtoU1PtIcrd6YO1iFoVLxyno6aYkw7Zmch0ChomTRu3BSQeybdQkmShdHQgE3vf3IqvY9_j87n-x0eskW2N0hF4qJ/s400/blog204.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Pine Island Rapids: named by Lewis and Clark. It was one of the most difficult up to that point to get around. I too had to wade up to my waist in the water and pull my boat around the next bend. The cold water felt great in the 90`degree heat.</span></p><p><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejrcnPxNzBXVQ9DmbE6NVlsMcsINovmXNOxvayAue8pWe95r25X9JcEdxGCXZ0ZVf-EoPTjbxZz7cbSgC7ygaR6J5bjgEa2IuGITaSduQkZ7jldhINme7sxMSHKm28dWjHJgU/s1600-h/blog205.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915938321837826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejrcnPxNzBXVQ9DmbE6NVlsMcsINovmXNOxvayAue8pWe95r25X9JcEdxGCXZ0ZVf-EoPTjbxZz7cbSgC7ygaR6J5bjgEa2IuGITaSduQkZ7jldhINme7sxMSHKm28dWjHJgU/s400/blog205.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Camp for the night. Believe it or not the highway and many summer cabins are just our of sight of this photo. The river runs right next to the road for most of it.</span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDvPo3SDwAK2UdkCuyDis3Hdonn0CXphfAmwLa11eDASOnDDUNUWDko_icDhoObUZwAWigTsv-LAw_3v-rw9YBuRapMkNBGmIYZt86XcXb2B82ol9HeOQY3nVj8piIMwWAPXua/s1600-h/blog206.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915944812532578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDvPo3SDwAK2UdkCuyDis3Hdonn0CXphfAmwLa11eDASOnDDUNUWDko_icDhoObUZwAWigTsv-LAw_3v-rw9YBuRapMkNBGmIYZt86XcXb2B82ol9HeOQY3nVj8piIMwWAPXua/s400/blog206.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Dearborn River: Named by Lewis & Clark. The river empties directly right under the interstate highway overpass. I wonder what L&C would think if they could see this area now. I used the overpass as a momentary resting place with shade.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><a name="23"></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>July 23-30, 2004</strong></span></p><p>Sunday- Hauser Reservoir Montana The constant hum of jet skis, speed boats, and the smell of exhaust for two days has taken away a lot of the beauty and solitude from the area and given me a headache. Holter and Hauser Reservoirs are popular motor boat destinations especially on the weekends. For two days I have been bombarded my huge wakes from all directions. I have encountered over 500 boats and not one dropped their speed as they approached me. A few were so close that I could read the writing of the drivers t-shirts. </p><p>I arrived at the first of these two reservoirs Friday evening after three challenging days in which the current was the strongest I have encountered on the entire Missouri River. After passing the small town of Cascade, the river enters the mountains for the first time. Steep volcanic cliffs raise high above often dropping directly into the water. The scenery has been spectacular but not as remote as the previous weeks. Many summer cottages line the river and instead of canoes and kayaks the crystal clear waters are used by drift boats and trout fisherman.</p><p> The water is so clear one can easily see the stones 10 feet below the surface. The clarity has helped my navigation tremendously because I can actually see when it's getting too shallow. As with before I would either run aground or hit the blade of my paddle on the river bottom. When I saw that I was getting too close to shore I would steer further out into the deeper water. Although the navigation is easier, the clear water makes me feel uneasy. I personally don't like to see how deep the water is because I have a strange sense that it is calling me to its depths. In fact I am afraid of water which surprises most people. At times the river bordered on Class II whitewater while the majority remained very swift with intermittent pools of slack water for a 100 yards only to be followed by another section of fast moving current. Lewis and Clark had a difficult time hauling their heavy loads through Pine Island Rapids and so did I. The river makes a quick "s" turn with over a few hundred yards of standing waves. At times I was up to my waist hauling my boat through the slowest of current I could find. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7skPaaM3lny9Gl0VQjip5OmoqjWC0hcU7952HtgBehe5WodAHFHegcdahwThsJubPvwTrm_VJF4hr2UlJmyXDDhj2_iXS1BL14tykoyC55BDe-FGFba3gXR79I6TA5P046_Ux/s1600-h/blog208.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915177074775826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7skPaaM3lny9Gl0VQjip5OmoqjWC0hcU7952HtgBehe5WodAHFHegcdahwThsJubPvwTrm_VJF4hr2UlJmyXDDhj2_iXS1BL14tykoyC55BDe-FGFba3gXR79I6TA5P046_Ux/s400/blog208.jpg" border="0" /></a> I often wonder how I am able to paddle 10 hour days in water that I am unsure I can even walk through. I think I have reached a point in the journey where I've realized I can do it as long as I stay positive and focused on the situation at hand. I more or less tell myself "I've walked, dragged, or paddled hundreds of sections like this I can it one more time". Some days I am even surprised at the miles I have covered which are often more that I estimated for that particular day. I'm sure the members of the Lewis and Clark expedition had similar thoughts. The constant toil, slow pace and relentlessness became a daily routine in which one tries not to think about too much. I feel as if I am in some sort of mental trance at times making the hours speed my. The entire river I've discovered is basically like life itself. Whatever obstacle you are faced with can only be solved if you tell yourself you can do it. "One day at a time; one step at a time; one paddle stroke at a time will get you to the ocean." I've learned I can only do so much in one day. There are days when I don't feel like getting out of the tent or pressing on any further but I somehow manage to do it. Everyday. When the conditions seem hopeless one just has to dive right into it and keep pressing forward. </p><p>I hope this journey will inspire at least one person to step outside of the box, to see life like a river, as one bend at a time. We must remember that Lewis and Clark were not "super-heroes". They didn't do anything that today's man or woman is not capable of doing. People in this century have done far greater things than Lewis and Clark and will continue to do so. People I have talked to on the trail seem as though they could never do what I am doing when in fact practically everyone could if they had the desire and the determination. </p><p>I was pressed for time reaching the public campground at Holter Dam on Friday to meet Dr. Braun and his family. I had not only 15 miles to paddle but also a dam portage. Since I sent my (Stan's) portage wheels home to save on weight and space, I had to do the portage the old fashioned way, by hand . The portage was about 1/4 mile up a steep incline to the top of the dam. What usually takes me 6 trips to carry everything including my boat only took me three. Thanks to a young man named Tom from Helena who helped haul half of the load. (So I cheated) </p><p>I paddled up to the campground as Dr. Braun was walking up to greet me. He was joined by his two daughters Ruth and Abbey, as well as two grandkids. He was determined to grill me a steak dinner and give me a spinal adjustment. He is my chiropractor from my hometown and was the one who arranged other chiropractors along the route to help out. The steaks were great but my hip was about 1 inch higher on one side than but was soon put back in place. The only camping space available for us was in the parking lot on black asphalt. I was able to erect my free standing tent there as well. It was without a doubt the flattest camping place I have had the entire journey. </p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFV6sMlPSjS5IX7v0RSZ8zCy29lfehm2dTmSv-vcdVeYL0YQj3LWlwt4zXICebsrNTbtCRMc-4Z7rFxP1UUbQtXP0uDhjLOuIO9bnOOg3SXwhWtcPY-gl259ry0PBlIJgL65WJ/s1600-h/blog209.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915183210092210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFV6sMlPSjS5IX7v0RSZ8zCy29lfehm2dTmSv-vcdVeYL0YQj3LWlwt4zXICebsrNTbtCRMc-4Z7rFxP1UUbQtXP0uDhjLOuIO9bnOOg3SXwhWtcPY-gl259ry0PBlIJgL65WJ/s400/blog209.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUjUnPqle69bt1JjeQN9ux9CcjZiMdJuwb9HYYQTX1rVSpepJ4JIpr_RxwlCoJlZmghX3UiQ9mrI1UJdRueuwhCcRZagNM58OSYmoqIaf7bBiuAo0nCrApKMdXswybgU8VHlW/s1600-h/blog210.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915184391240898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUjUnPqle69bt1JjeQN9ux9CcjZiMdJuwb9HYYQTX1rVSpepJ4JIpr_RxwlCoJlZmghX3UiQ9mrI1UJdRueuwhCcRZagNM58OSYmoqIaf7bBiuAo0nCrApKMdXswybgU8VHlW/s400/blog210.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">The entrance to the Gates of the Rocky Mountains, named by Meriwether Lewis.</span></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorGZu-JtISa_y9U4N1YzrLHePTrJFKsgYFhTsVO6m0NBpSt0HVBtOPcLcgLugQMDSTZz82bZps03yAG34eAVLm7bDM6-n-8ta2UCRHCRWrcSIfNV2BA7JzZ2JBpHCeu4LbhWC/s1600-h/blog211.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915192659036930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorGZu-JtISa_y9U4N1YzrLHePTrJFKsgYFhTsVO6m0NBpSt0HVBtOPcLcgLugQMDSTZz82bZps03yAG34eAVLm7bDM6-n-8ta2UCRHCRWrcSIfNV2BA7JzZ2JBpHCeu4LbhWC/s400/blog211.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">View from camp inside the "Gates".</span></p><p> By Saturday afternoon I paddled into the "Gates of the Rocky Mountains" named by Meriweather Lewis in 1805. The huge limestone and quartz cliffs rise above the water for over 1100 feet providing a spectacular backdrop for the jet skis and speedboats who's wakes pounded off the sides of the massive cliff walls. I have been here before during the off season with DeeDee and we were the only ones around. It would be nice if they made this canyone a "no wake zone". The noise from the jet skis gave the place an amusement park feel.</p><p> There was a small tent camp situated in the middle of the canyon in which I pulled in at the same time as Van Goodwin and his wife Honey and children Thomas and Cat in their red canoe. There were very irritated with the lack of respect they received from the jet skis as well. Van is an ex Ranger and has spent time in Iraq fighting in the war. He is also part Nez Perce Indian which is the same tribe that helped Lewis and Clark during there difficult struggle over the mountains. He invited me to a grilled chicken dinner which I gladly accepted. I was also glad that Van didn't serve any military MRE"S (Meals ready to eat) but would have gladly eaten them as well. As I end this update the mass of boats and watercraft are speeding to the marinas as a fast approaching lightning storm is about to descend upon the area. I plan to make Townsend, Montana on Monday and Three Forks by Friday. </p><p> The following day was just a busy with motor boat traffic. No respect with boat wakes. Some speed boats would travel at high speeds within 20 feet creating a wake 4 times the height of my kayak. Now imagine being in a motoboat and having another boat create a wake 4 times the height of their boat? This would be equal to over 15 feet! I'm certain that if they experience a taste of their own medicine they would have a lot more repect with other boats.Several days later Van and his family were waiting for me at Canyon Ferry Resv. and offered to drive me around the dam which saved me a lot more time. Van broke out the tobacco along with the rest of the family and said a prayer and made and offering as I departed across the wind blown body of water.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTgIf0T-2-kzB0RASc_PsjniE6yeykmW_dhVGKiYTZ59witi_3RojNMkeufdUyTPPkYPm0Ev1Fqu7Dn02uzaG0ZDzaDAJiYlmF7VtrRXIdKsJFBwCEENg5jHk_5a1YrWUqfd6/s1600-h/blog212.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248915193867696210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTgIf0T-2-kzB0RASc_PsjniE6yeykmW_dhVGKiYTZ59witi_3RojNMkeufdUyTPPkYPm0Ev1Fqu7Dn02uzaG0ZDzaDAJiYlmF7VtrRXIdKsJFBwCEENg5jHk_5a1YrWUqfd6/s400/blog212.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">Exiting the Gates and looking back north.</div><br /><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"> July 31, 1805"we have a lame crew just now, tow with tumers or bad boils on various parts of them, one with a bad stone bruise, one with his arm accedently dislocated but fortunately well replaced, and a fifth has streigned his back by sliping and falling backwards on the gunwall of the canoe." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 1, 1805"the mountains are extremely bare of timber and out rout lay through the steep valleys exposed to the heat of the sun without shade and scarcely a breath of air…" M Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Aug 5, 1805"the river today they found streighter and more rapid even than yesterday, and the labour and difficulty of the navigation was proportionably increased, they therefore proceeded but slowly and with great pain as the men had become very languid from working in the water and many of their feet swolen and so painful that they could scarcely walk." M Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnbdsi5p3cm8RtWduY6QOPaFJBSkzu5CKuc04EgajWs1Z-QZoekrr32Csve8t72uNyHKdgbKcWKuJqvaJ37YjwterDEfQ0X2V-JHOw4CB4oYpmaIxQVONT0MO8Mz4OaqD-Swc/s1600-h/blog213.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248914469094889426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwnbdsi5p3cm8RtWduY6QOPaFJBSkzu5CKuc04EgajWs1Z-QZoekrr32Csve8t72uNyHKdgbKcWKuJqvaJ37YjwterDEfQ0X2V-JHOw4CB4oYpmaIxQVONT0MO8Mz4OaqD-Swc/s400/blog213.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Self portrait. I hate this photo of me.</span></div><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqATtfb0b1XwXkS2iFMVinpIkaJuUtHJwVnNKaUJiCCTyo0BsBZ3HY_JkfqdEmBalkeVP0sKPkhLxoJetTOudRjs9wIE8TbEWJiFSx4pKyWa8qmotdMw8DKXXXpWf7NUeoZnk/s1600-h/blog214.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248914475924876418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKqATtfb0b1XwXkS2iFMVinpIkaJuUtHJwVnNKaUJiCCTyo0BsBZ3HY_JkfqdEmBalkeVP0sKPkhLxoJetTOudRjs9wIE8TbEWJiFSx4pKyWa8qmotdMw8DKXXXpWf7NUeoZnk/s400/blog214.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> The Goodwin Family of Helena, Montana. Thanks for the help around the dam and dinner!</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRgEtmm6dtO2vYwxS3B40gMFEr6h61o2jKokM1i1yh9QfYS5JaXBUpSBod7mp6Bv8ipRGOiKBUsi0jPXheGJL7YM9maeCIZoHDxUMRhXHfBR10TBZRB7e5eqfkzl85W_75aAW/s1600-h/blog215.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248914474367548722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRgEtmm6dtO2vYwxS3B40gMFEr6h61o2jKokM1i1yh9QfYS5JaXBUpSBod7mp6Bv8ipRGOiKBUsi0jPXheGJL7YM9maeCIZoHDxUMRhXHfBR10TBZRB7e5eqfkzl85W_75aAW/s400/blog215.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Windbound on Canyon Ferry Reservour. A great place to camp too. One of my favorites of the whole trip.</span></p>The rattlesnake made very little sound as I stood near it while pulling my boat to shore. A faint clicking sound was all it made but was enough to get my attention. As I looked down by my ankle I could see the small snake coiled up in striking position. They say you should move slowly away but my initial reaction was to jump. My leap proved to be effective. After realizing the area was probably crawling with snakes I pushed by boat back into the water only to paddle a few more minutes to a small island where I set up camp in the twilight.I slowed my pace the last two days to Three Forks since all my friends would not arrive there until Friday evening. I was looking forward to finishing my upstream travel on this long river. The journey has seemed very long and St. Louis seems like another lifetime ago. The last day or so had been similar to the week's prior. I would paddle a short distance and walk my boat through the shallow waters along the edge into the deeper water and repeat this again and again the entire day. Typically I would walk through the water about 3-4 miles each day while paddling 10-12 miles. I have been wearing sandals, which have rubbed the skin off of my ankles due to my walking in the water.<br /><br />I am concerned now that I have to wear heavy hiking boots for the next month and what the constant rubbing on these sores may cause. My arrival to Three Forks was somewhat uneventful. Since it was Friday morning there was no one to greet me at the boat ramp. A couple was loading their canoe for a day of fishing as I paddled my last stroke on the Missouri. They asked me where I had started and congratulated me with a cold beer from their cooler. As they handed me the ice cold Budweiser, I thought it was very fitting to have a beer brewed in St. Louis where I started 17-weeks ago.<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiO_38mA_yTUIPjxi81IHqCK74KC-Zjv0tMQMKr9bA6eqMRG-h9UvtrS0vyzvS191hcIjnqjj7DzxhEqjm4PT9B1-W6Quy34n0tquDYaHjazhj_N9594VUTCHy2MBBX8zGXlgE/s1600-h/blog216.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248914478703756098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiO_38mA_yTUIPjxi81IHqCK74KC-Zjv0tMQMKr9bA6eqMRG-h9UvtrS0vyzvS191hcIjnqjj7DzxhEqjm4PT9B1-W6Quy34n0tquDYaHjazhj_N9594VUTCHy2MBBX8zGXlgE/s400/blog216.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above Toston Dam which you can see in the background. It was so peaceful paddling in the slack water above the dam that evening.</span></p><p align="left"><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmKjQjRfDDzD2CvE1aHyNfoxgaN8dKSteGRJbbLJAS2pceAPYnGlhg_MZqux_FWlk9Xf8hgSZt4iSTFjDTFy9NCSX3aKztDdMEMXXyyF_F_jqbornetiWIuCOaaWLHwYfNBG1D/s1600-h/blog217.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248914484674086290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmKjQjRfDDzD2CvE1aHyNfoxgaN8dKSteGRJbbLJAS2pceAPYnGlhg_MZqux_FWlk9Xf8hgSZt4iSTFjDTFy9NCSX3aKztDdMEMXXyyF_F_jqbornetiWIuCOaaWLHwYfNBG1D/s400/blog217.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Quiet evening just before my rattlesnake encounter.</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJ_wDpAJr-SmhwuU0I1X-FI7ezyWdukAl3wAFMb6LSNxRMJF-Kf97DRZ07A1AEXokIPE7n2npyXidbsrClJORy-7BZXh6iY9GJy_eu-71gGq1qvxA-oooMxypVzwaByoSPfGY/s1600-h/blog219.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248913441197408274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJ_wDpAJr-SmhwuU0I1X-FI7ezyWdukAl3wAFMb6LSNxRMJF-Kf97DRZ07A1AEXokIPE7n2npyXidbsrClJORy-7BZXh6iY9GJy_eu-71gGq1qvxA-oooMxypVzwaByoSPfGY/s400/blog219.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Above and below, my last camp before arriving at Three Forks. </span></p><p align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8baJaXX5_pH8zI5KcwmnkmJGenub1MF6FbcDXtg0CYccs3jcFz01PTL7TvbDNIxs1MDfn6qXjKFzjYBTSt4TrBlc3GA63-hLom9DjZVa2xEKFF87NDuaQ2p0zVYb4ai9hVxkI/s1600-h/b2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248913472114874466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8baJaXX5_pH8zI5KcwmnkmJGenub1MF6FbcDXtg0CYccs3jcFz01PTL7TvbDNIxs1MDfn6qXjKFzjYBTSt4TrBlc3GA63-hLom9DjZVa2xEKFF87NDuaQ2p0zVYb4ai9hVxkI/s400/b2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vr3zxJjbBaoInu75Hc6SzAngNvzcfiy5A7_IXZtXXmg4V0bk5p5TKokrkwcF2twqkAPJ6mOJN2Xzb06o-K-JViLUL6nGUNOLYlxwPbdTcZgAjbzkf6kCDi5uVCmZKkgLYoOw/s1600-h/b3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248913483676682274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vr3zxJjbBaoInu75Hc6SzAngNvzcfiy5A7_IXZtXXmg4V0bk5p5TKokrkwcF2twqkAPJ6mOJN2Xzb06o-K-JViLUL6nGUNOLYlxwPbdTcZgAjbzkf6kCDi5uVCmZKkgLYoOw/s400/b3.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo :Cheers! My arrival to Three Forks..the start of the Missouri River. It took me 17-weeks to reach this place. A young couple gave me a Budweiser Beer to congratulate me. I thought how ironic since Budweiser is brewed in St. Louis where I started</span>. </p>The large rock face overlooking the confluence of the Gallitin, Madison, and Jefferson Rivers was where Lewis climbed to get a view of the surrounding valley and ponder which river to ascend to reach the far off Pacific. I was tempted to climb the 200-foot cliff myself but my desire soon disappeared at the thought of lunch and the fact the rocks were probably home to many rattlesnakes. After locking my boat and belongings to the boat ramp sign, I was offered a ride into town by the park ranger, which was much appreciated. The small town of Three Forks radiated in the high ninety degree temperatures as I located a small cafe on Main Street to grab a bite to eat. I was offered the option to sit outdoors on the patio but declined it for the dark air-conditioned inside. Since I have been outside for 4 months I have grown to appreciate the indoors what few times I have encountered it.Several of my friends from Livingston, Missoula, West Yellowstone, Bozeman, Gardner, and Yellowstone National Park stopped by over the weekend to visit and welcome me to Three Forks. Several of us camped for two nights at the nearby campground.<br /><br /> It was really great to see them all and very much appreciated. Thanks to Hillary Johnson for the 20 pieces of Sushi which I inhaled without even knowing if it was all for me. It was great to see her. I can still remember going to her web design business (Star Web Services) a few years ago with the idea to do an ongoing web site during the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial. My chiropractor Dr. Braun and family camped as well and provided so much, such as a 10 lb. smoked salmon, yummy deserts, and plenty of firewood to last the entire weekend. Thanks for another spinal adjustment too! I was glad to see that my hip was not out of place this time. It was great to see Dave and Christie Meuer, Curt & Chery Loeffler, Jen Heath, Tom Porter, Tom & Katie Woods, Paula Clawson, Terri Nightingale, Jason Lehmann, Dennis & Billy Glick, Bev Dawson, Dave Hahn, Derek Poinsette, Dawn Drottos, Richie Doyle, and DeeDee Fite. (I hope I didn't forget anyone.)<br /><br />Our camp happened to be where I've encountered the most mosquitoes of the entire journey. Having spent the last few months without the need to wear long pants and shirts at night to avoid the bugs, I had to cover up or be eaten by all the flying pests that seemed to congregate near our camp. Lewis and Clark were troubled by mosquitoes their entire journey, and wrote about them often in their journals. I have found it very strange that I have not encountered very many considering I have camped near the water the entire journey. During the next 30 days I will be backpacking over the continental divide through the Bitterroot Mountains that border Montana and Idaho. It was through this area that the Corp of Discovery nearly starved. They were fortunate enough to obtain horses from the nearby Indians and also be guided over the mountains along the trails that the Indians have used for hundreds of years. When I hike the Lolo Trail, I will be joined by author and historian Gene Eastman and his wife Mollie. Gene wrote the book entitled "<em>Bitterroot Crossing- Lewis & Clark across the LoLo Trail</em>". Gene has spent over 20 years researching the real route that Lewis and Clark took over the mountains. His understanding of William Clarks maps, journal descriptions, compass bearings, and terminology has resulted in locating the original trail. The Indians have not used the trail since the 1860's when Chief Joseph passed through while heading to Canada. The current Forest Service Trail that crosses over the mountains is actually not the original trail, as many people believe. The "presumed" Lolo Trail was constructed to accommodate horse packers and hikers over the years and is basically a compilation of an 1860's military road, CCC, and Forest Service Trails that are close to the original Indian trail. Gene says the original trail is still visible in many locations and matches up precisely with where William Clark recorded them to be.<br /><br />Gene and I will be carrying small packs with minimal amount of supplies. The bulk of our supplies (tent & food) will be located at various camps that Mollie Eastman will set up while Gene and I hike the trail. Each evening we will walk off the original trail to the camp, which will be, located close by. The forest if very thick and overgrown with vegetation since it was last traveled by Native Americans. We will be unable to use horses because of this and all our walking will be in difficult terrain. I hope to send an update once I am camped with Gene and Mollie since she will be able to haul my laptop in their truck to each of our nightly camps. I am looking forward to walking and traveling the "real" route and not the supposed route that was constructed by the US Forest Service.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmkhkbhgH5FjzUa_tn_xfsCRZ2J_vCZgzc5sMjNrOzSvePJQTx7SUEjPcMILIKGjR5TVc3l7Ipspve73tEBpLwabt2Z1DpmBloeGE_0lyuRyyrUdH6FX8cAayYK_iGj4HVRYu/s1600-h/b4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248913489013624962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmkhkbhgH5FjzUa_tn_xfsCRZ2J_vCZgzc5sMjNrOzSvePJQTx7SUEjPcMILIKGjR5TVc3l7Ipspve73tEBpLwabt2Z1DpmBloeGE_0lyuRyyrUdH6FX8cAayYK_iGj4HVRYu/s400/b4.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Friend at Three Forks, Montana </span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhoAY9BZPs3m_No70dr-dF2mHQgfuLPlNnXuJpFHM_IokyDntoh1BVGVzqTSU5hxUkp0hHkx5QXgp6o718j0d6Tmay02s6BwzT3VM08NW-ykpOm3vjaDGmKa0jWWccVaJo_5AE/s1600-h/b5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248913501001840450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhoAY9BZPs3m_No70dr-dF2mHQgfuLPlNnXuJpFHM_IokyDntoh1BVGVzqTSU5hxUkp0hHkx5QXgp6o718j0d6Tmay02s6BwzT3VM08NW-ykpOm3vjaDGmKa0jWWccVaJo_5AE/s400/b5.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Me with my friend Hillary Johnson who designed my entire website. Thanks Hillary you are the best. The large cliff in the background is the one Meriwether Lewis climbed to the top to get a view of the three rivers that merge at this location.</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><p align="left"></span> </p>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-10418958921038481222008-09-21T14:44:00.000-07:002008-09-21T16:33:36.570-07:00<div align="center"><u><span style="color:#0000ff;"></span></u></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">Part 6: In the Wake of Discovery: North Dakota to Great Falls Montana.</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQR-IVVgpMjw-jIC39atZXgbO7ErqQA_E8qmMIFHiHfDJq0JkdGZkmXriolUnNOUjfNUX_CK4Rck6esi_Upe0Z79amnKNauMHQexjanez3BsQv0pkY3x8uhsgWXyjYWUwKyrU/s1600-h/blog+69.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248600178066597842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiQR-IVVgpMjw-jIC39atZXgbO7ErqQA_E8qmMIFHiHfDJq0JkdGZkmXriolUnNOUjfNUX_CK4Rck6esi_Upe0Z79amnKNauMHQexjanez3BsQv0pkY3x8uhsgWXyjYWUwKyrU/s400/blog+69.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Montana geology near Culbertson.</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 12, 1805"...the country is extreamly broken about the mouth of this river, and as far up on both sides, as we could observe it from the tops of some elivated hills, which stand between the two rivers, about 3 miles from their junction." M. Lewis (Mouth of Little Missouri River)</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 13, 1805"...about 2 in the afternoon when a suddon squall of wind struck us and turned the perogue so much on the side as to allarm Sharbono who was steering at the time, in this state of alarm he threw the perogue with her side to the wind, when the spritsail gibing was as near overseting the perogue as it was possible to have missed. The wind however abating for an instant I ordered Drewey to the helm and the sails to be taken in, which was instantly executed and the perogue being steered before the wind was agin plased in a state of security..." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 18, 1805"found a spcies of pea bearing a yellow flower, and now in blume; it seldom rises more than 6 inches high, the leaf & stalk resembles that of a common garden pea, the root is perenial." M. Lewis (Near Lake Jesse N.D.)</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 19, 1805"The wind blew so hard this morning from N.W> that we dared not to venture our canoes on the river." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 23, 1805"The wind of this countrey which blow with some violence almost every day, has become a serious obstruction in our progression onward, as we cant move when the wind is high without great risque, and if there was no risque the winds in generally a head and often too violent to proceed." Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 25, 1805"we encamped on the bank of the yellow stone river, 2 miles south of it's confluence with the Missouri." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 26, 1805"in order to add in some measure to the general pleasure which seemed to pervade our little community, we ordered a dram to be issued to each person; this soon produced the fiddle, and they spent the evening with much hilarity, singing & dancing, and seemed as perfectly to forget their past toils, as they appeared regardless of those to come." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 27, 1805"for several days past we have observed a great number of buffaloe lying dead on the shore, some of them entire and others partly devoured by the wolves and bear." M. Lewis</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">May 2, 1805"every thing which is incomprehensible to the indians they call big medicine, and is the operation of the presnts and power of the great sperit." M Lewis </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">May3, 1805"we saw an unusual number of Porcupines from which we determined to call the river after that anamal, and accordingly denominated it Porcupine river. This stream discharges itself into the Missouri on the Stard side 2000 miles about the mouth of the latter..." M. Lewis (Now the Poplar River, MT)</span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>May 5, 1805"Capt Clark and Drewyer killed the largest brown bear this evening which we have yet seen. It was a most tremendious looking anamak, and extreemly hard to kill not withstanding he had five balls through his lungs and five others in various parts he swam more than half the distance acros the river to a sandbar, & it was at least twenty minutes before he died..." M Lewis</em><em> (Near Wolf Point, MT)</em></span></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">May 8, 1805"The river we passed today we call Milk River from the peculiar whiteness of it's water, which precisely resembles tea with a considerable mixture of milk." Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-SMplfFr_al5waH5NzZnpZvu5bDGrSyg1QuplsPfrNMIqQimInulGaWItaBRuN6-r2MAOI23SrSS60JxY2Cu9hyFS5yO9_SSgP_LEPX6U4pBY31b931D9IaImXDXQ4kmbRxy/s1600-h/blog+60.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248600180348720594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-SMplfFr_al5waH5NzZnpZvu5bDGrSyg1QuplsPfrNMIqQimInulGaWItaBRuN6-r2MAOI23SrSS60JxY2Cu9hyFS5yO9_SSgP_LEPX6U4pBY31b931D9IaImXDXQ4kmbRxy/s400/blog+60.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Pelican take flight near the confluence with the Yellowstone River.</span></p><p align="left">Sunday: Wolf Point, Montana I was surprised to hear the voice say "are you Norm?" At first I thought the two fellow paddlers were someone from my hometown of Livingston. They introduced themselves as Wolfman and Freight Train, each paddling solo canoes and headed for New Orleans. Freight Train had to share his space with a rather large black dog who didn't like the water. He had found the dog while backpacking the Appalachian Trail and it has become his traveling buddy. They had read my web site prior to their departure from Three Forks, Montana and were surprised to see me as I was of them. We exchanged a half hour's worth of river stories and departed our separate ways, they downstream, me up stream into steady current.I feel much closer to home now that I have crossed the border into Montana.</p><p align="left">The days prior I had spent with farmers Stan and Jan Anderson on their wheat and sugar beat farm along the Missouri River. They had been kind enough to let me camp on their property and to give me the grand tour of the beautiful area. They live close to the confluence of the Yellowstone and Missouri Rivers which was the meeting place for Lewis and Clark on their return journey in 1806. Clark had returned by way of the Yellowstone and Lewis and went north along the Marias River and back down the Missouri. Clark arrived only a few days before Lewis where these two rivers meet. The landscape has become harsher since arriving in Montana. Large arid bluffs rise above the rivers edge like eroding sand castles providing me with a colorful array of white, pink, yellow and gray. I know have to pay close attention to the river to find the proper channel, current and sandbars. It is rather challenging since the water levels are continuously dropping. I feel I have mastered this skill and have gone many miles without having to push myself off any sandbars.</p><p align="left">I made it to Culberston by noon on Friday and was greeted by Texan Craig Swanson who is kayaking solo to St. Louis. The day before he had been beaten up bad by three young men on the Reservation in Wolf Point. They had first tried to take his kayak but when he interfered they switched their aggression on him. He was very disturbed and upset by the situation which has now taken away a lot of the fun out of his journey. I tried to boost his spirits and told him he should not camp on the "north" side which is the reservation and to be thankful nothing worse happened. He now has to paddle to Williston, N.D. for some dental work due to the incident. We spent the day camped together and made numerous trips to town to eat ice cream and pizza which we both don't get to eat while paddling. He is sort of a minimalist and eats canned soup right of the can without heating and only has a bar of granola for breakfast while I consume about 4000 calories of food just to keep me going.The nights have been cold but are now starting to warm up and slowly bringing out the mosquitoes. I have talked to several people who have had the West Nile Virus and it really affected them. Lewis and Clark were plagued by mosquitoes but they didn't have to worry about this new 21st century disease.</p><p align="left">On July 2nd my friend Terri will meet me at Ft. Peck to help transport me around the reservoir where I will put back in at James Kipp Bridge to start my way through the Wild and Scenic Missouri Breaks to Ft. Benton which I hope to arrive on around the 14th-17th where I hope to see my sister Gail and brother-in-law Barry. This next section of the river will be the most wild and has changed very little since Lewis and Clark passed through. It is also a popular canoeing and floating destination. Me? Glad to be "home". I have reached the 1/2 way point after three long months of some very challenging situations and conditions. I have a better appreciation for what Lewis and Clark went through and their journey I feel I have begun to understand a lot of what they mentally went through. Constant extreme weather and very uncomfortable living conditions. The last few days have been the first in three months that my feet have been dry. Dirty? Yes, they are still dirty but they are dry.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a_8wkcOF9DRYWY1KleE9Q1pNybUKz8HSUeJHt4ia0s1VBwIxYVE-KShcC7gSVfkfjfDzKCcXxeDo_tm7MsI8FTaBunRs6AQo11T005uNir0b7njLil7Yug5OLmthyWW9hdtR/s1600-h/blog+63.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248599740023010722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a_8wkcOF9DRYWY1KleE9Q1pNybUKz8HSUeJHt4ia0s1VBwIxYVE-KShcC7gSVfkfjfDzKCcXxeDo_tm7MsI8FTaBunRs6AQo11T005uNir0b7njLil7Yug5OLmthyWW9hdtR/s400/blog+63.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Stan Anderson at his farm along the river. I camped on his property for a couple of nights and he and his wife Jan were very helpful. Thanks!</span></p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_hEj8uuDChyphenhyphen9c5-nWtEW02qCYOTlxIy-J4qzxBK68yI0Q913b7M3Z5pVE7AlYbviWG2CL74CQEu2kR4YKFGV4YKlmqY1n4yf70Ct2fv470mI2BnL_9uMFi_vYdvDphEAWzuZ/s1600-h/blog+64.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248599744288587474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_hEj8uuDChyphenhyphen9c5-nWtEW02qCYOTlxIy-J4qzxBK68yI0Q913b7M3Z5pVE7AlYbviWG2CL74CQEu2kR4YKFGV4YKlmqY1n4yf70Ct2fv470mI2BnL_9uMFi_vYdvDphEAWzuZ/s400/blog+64.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Fort Union. This was the site of the American Fur Trade Company's empire in the late 1800's, many years after Lewis and Clark passed by.</span></p><p align="left">The two spotted fawns were unaware of me as I approached the shore of the river. The mother sensed my presence and quickly bolted into the nearby woods with one of the fawns right behind. The second fawn did not know the other two had left but quickly realized it when it became aware of "the big blue boat" paddling towards shore. It pranced wildly up and down the shore looking for its mother who was probably now too far away. The young deer finally found a trail leading into the thick brush and it too disappeared from site. I knew this would be a good area to camp since animals bring me good luck and safety.</p><p align="left">I pulled my boat to shore after a long 23 miles which included three sets of rapids in which I had to pull my boat through the knee deep water since the current was too strong to even consider paddling. The standing wave in the center of the river bounced off rocks as the waters headed downstream. I am camped directly across from the Milk River, which William Clark named because of its appearance. It looks like tea which one has added a hearty portion of milk to. This was the river that the Indians had told them about the previous winter while living at Fort Mandan. They called it "the river that scolds all others". It is the most northern river that empties into the Missouri and was a major trade route for the trappers and Native Americans for many years. I am within 8 miles of Ft. Peck dam, which is one of the largest earth dams ever built. The wind is at my back that should help push me through the strong current to Ft. Peck.</p><p align="left">During the boom days when the dam was being constructed there was close to 13,000 people living here. Now only a small handful of about 300 residents live here. I am glad to have reached this area, as it is sort of another milestone. I usually try to paddle the distance on one of my maps, which is equal to about 15-20 miles. It is very rewarding to me when I cover such distance and very upsetting when my day is cut short due to winds. It has been very lonely the last several days. I have not seen or talked to anyone except myself. At times this entire project seems worthless and that I am typing these words that no one will read but only to have a message relayed to me from a long lost college roomate, high school teacher, or stranger who I have never met sending me words of encouragement and praise. Its days like these that keeps me going while other times I have all I can do to even get out of my tent in the morning.</p><p align="left">The cottonwood trees are in full bloom the last few days. The seeds dropped by these giant trees each have a tuft of cotton like fiber, which floats in the air depositing the seed downwind. The air is so thick with cotton that is looks as is it is snowing out. Yesterday I was hit in the face with so much of it that it would stick to my whiskers like Velcro, which I then had to wipe off. I constantly felt like I was getting hit it the face with cobwebs.The technology I use to send photos and text data is far beyond anything used by Lewis and Clark except for the occasional pen to write a rough draft. I'm sure I am the first ever to paddle the Missouri River while carrying a Dell Inspiron 300M laptop, Satellite Phone, Iowa Thin Film Solar Panels, and a Nikion Cool Pics 5400 digital camera. Sending data from the field is very challenging. Not only must you keep out dirt, water and other debris but you must also set it up in rather obscure places while extremely fatigued from having paddled all day.</p><p align="left">I begin by downloading all my photos onto my laptop photo program. I then open WordPad and type the text for that particular update. This is all saved where it will be attached to an outgoing email. I then decide which photo's I would like to send along to give you a feel for the trail or the mood of the day. I then open up a jpeg file compression program which reduces the 50K-350K photo's down to around 10k. This procedure saves battery life on my laptop and satellite phone. Since my Telestial Iridium Phone only transmits data at a rate of about 2k per second it is important that the size be reduced to save time and battery life. I usually send two updates per battery before they need to be recharged or replaced with a new one.I use two solar panels from Iowa Thin Films. These panels are lightweight and roll up like a map and easily stored in a dry bag. As I approach more remote areas I will be using these panels more and more. The first part of my journey I had access to electrical outlets but they are now few and far between. When the sun is out and I am wind bound or taking a break I pull out these panels and attach either my satellite phone or computer to them to recharge. They work really good and I highly recommend a set of these for anyone who ventures away from a power source.</p><div align="left">When I send an update, I create an email in Outlook Express, then I attach the text file and the jpeg photos to the email before sending. The phone is then attached to the laptop using a USB to Port Adapter cable. When using a satellite phone you must have the phone outside with an unobstructed view of the sky. Trees and buildings will cause you to lose your satellite connection so I have to make sure I have a clear shot of the sky. I then open up my email connection and the phone is automatically dialed to my account with Stratosnet. Once connected it takes about 5-10 minutes to send the email. This is usually done inside my tent while the phone it outside pearched on a nearby log. Confused? You should be, it is a lengthy process with many precautions along the way. Imagine doing an update after paddling 10 hours into a headwind during 80 degree temperatures while sitting in a small tent crammed with equipment and clothing. All of my high tech equipment is stored in Pelican Water Proof Cases (which also float). In each case I have added desiccant tablets which help remove moisture from the equipment. These tablets are the small packages you find in medication and sometimes food. As you can imagine I don't even dare open any of my Pelican Cases if it is raining for fear of ruining the equipment.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">The data that Jamie Robinson at CoreComm receives is then cut and pasted to the web site for you to view.In the days of Lewis and Clark the fastest way information traveled was by horse or by boat. It would take days, weeks and even months for some people to receive information. When the Corp.of Discovery returned to St. Louis in 1806 many people thought they had all died since there was no way for anyone to receive information from them while they were gone. Imagine if Lewis and Clark had a laptop and satellite phone to send data back to President Jefferson.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMT8FLvTWCm2B3hZm2FW71FsEzOiW1EYJ6cmU5hsnLwHt8g3FCedR5s0U_E-DexiB5B5L5vwXU1W2M52F98pBvH5kOx1ZJsN-QH93tB26wdJhkI6FrGdttkhLe5SsvBHYI0G9/s1600-h/blog+66.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248599741828937762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMT8FLvTWCm2B3hZm2FW71FsEzOiW1EYJ6cmU5hsnLwHt8g3FCedR5s0U_E-DexiB5B5L5vwXU1W2M52F98pBvH5kOx1ZJsN-QH93tB26wdJhkI6FrGdttkhLe5SsvBHYI0G9/s400/blog+66.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: The Yellowstone River at the confluence with the Missouri</p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bsO6b8HiP0r2D8u9Np7bDV6JpXoRoXkA8BkyRK8lItCBOFop95RoqW6jta15Fa5gu3xBCHv9FsU3jtz8fkegF45xFwR0RXLMf1e3xt-PD10pbGEtruMO3Y8UN363KEVCeqyk/s1600-h/blog+67.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248599749208380674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6bsO6b8HiP0r2D8u9Np7bDV6JpXoRoXkA8BkyRK8lItCBOFop95RoqW6jta15Fa5gu3xBCHv9FsU3jtz8fkegF45xFwR0RXLMf1e3xt-PD10pbGEtruMO3Y8UN363KEVCeqyk/s400/blog+67.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Somewhere along the river.</span></p><p align="center"><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwa9fELJ6a911btLGYZtsoO_MMEOLs3oXIlUymaUQy1ngsmLmaaFjTVnF7MBN_HBb3cRyrig_KOPrmus2n7PNspGAxaICF2xZkyireZRM2DcMoixGQ5wJzEcU3SVou15YE5YG/s1600-h/blog+68.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248599748550668354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwa9fELJ6a911btLGYZtsoO_MMEOLs3oXIlUymaUQy1ngsmLmaaFjTVnF7MBN_HBb3cRyrig_KOPrmus2n7PNspGAxaICF2xZkyireZRM2DcMoixGQ5wJzEcU3SVou15YE5YG/s400/blog+68.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Craig Swanson heading off towards New Orleans, his final destination. Craig was assulted in Wolf Point by several Indian youth.<br /></span></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1IPl1P_WHuKiq3IIjXPV_I5gzAb4_K5PSGIrRhGLnljpudjLD7FkrE7ELCHs-VouOKohXESNssWRRq5WqhwNVjk3TfseotQYbh_YX1Q-y_dyuy41jyx1KqNbUPQGJ39WlKUB/s1600-h/blog+70.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248598770665395138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1IPl1P_WHuKiq3IIjXPV_I5gzAb4_K5PSGIrRhGLnljpudjLD7FkrE7ELCHs-VouOKohXESNssWRRq5WqhwNVjk3TfseotQYbh_YX1Q-y_dyuy41jyx1KqNbUPQGJ39WlKUB/s400/blog+70.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: A nice peaceful evening near Wolf Point.</span></div><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUNL3irEC-4u9XlTIJxHpoTdxHQlrfeNTqS7AL4gDblsYm2m0Tp0dfqVv3w1nGd45nUsEu45WAruBAiJ6uZte8uRni_WYCGZibl8MSrbNckTvat8T-pyJ1he3hGoJiZR8tyky/s1600-h/blog+72.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248598772537566066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUNL3irEC-4u9XlTIJxHpoTdxHQlrfeNTqS7AL4gDblsYm2m0Tp0dfqVv3w1nGd45nUsEu45WAruBAiJ6uZte8uRni_WYCGZibl8MSrbNckTvat8T-pyJ1he3hGoJiZR8tyky/s400/blog+72.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Photo above: A calm mornings paddle up the mighty Missouri.</span></p><p><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLc9gFWwXDgy6doCsmR_S53PKUhC2fFWSfNewpHNDuzsigMhPMgwmRLgK_zA-JwmMy5pPGKzZhae8vglZSlX-0vzBva0CluOWH0XI8wfH7nnPtLx_FD9lkVz0g1Hjm09Ktpgd/s1600-h/blog+76.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248598776806737426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsLc9gFWwXDgy6doCsmR_S53PKUhC2fFWSfNewpHNDuzsigMhPMgwmRLgK_zA-JwmMy5pPGKzZhae8vglZSlX-0vzBva0CluOWH0XI8wfH7nnPtLx_FD9lkVz0g1Hjm09Ktpgd/s400/blog+76.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: The Milk River where it meets the Missouri River.</span></p><p><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoH6Ox9fvYtYIaicQD7-oiF2hV1XfbxY9iZHHmy-TplpCvHNVmP5nNahBevXlveuYztxFP6wnjyO67nlu_kA-ORXNjgI1dXa1wKRoL5u_s04WDwLnO2eZ3hRP24pEyM3K5vb25/s1600-h/blog+78.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248598782743883122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoH6Ox9fvYtYIaicQD7-oiF2hV1XfbxY9iZHHmy-TplpCvHNVmP5nNahBevXlveuYztxFP6wnjyO67nlu_kA-ORXNjgI1dXa1wKRoL5u_s04WDwLnO2eZ3hRP24pEyM3K5vb25/s400/blog+78.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Photo above: July 4th weekend at Ft. Peck Dam. Oh it was so crazy with exhaust and noise. I was glad to get away from here.</span></p><p>The tiny 2-horse powered Honda motor seemed too small for the large Grumman aluminum freight canoe tied up on shore. Two people moved about setting up an early camp as I inched along the shore. I pulled my boat up next to the large canoe and was greeted by Kathleen West a BLM Ranger who along with co-worker Chris Noyes were on their last night out of a week long patrol of the Missouri Breaks Wild and Scenic section between Ft. Benton and James Kipp Recreation Area. This beautiful section of the river is the most scenic, isolated, and most unchanged on the entire Missouri River. Little has changed since the days of Lewis and Clark except for the number of visitors to the area. The two rangers help maintain the designated campsites along the way as well as remove trash they happen to find. I tied my boat up to theirs, retrieved my lunch bag from my boat and joined them on shore.This was Kathleens first year on patrol. She is a photographer and lives the rest of the year in Arizona. Chris has worked several summers on the river and will return to college in Ashland, Oregon when the season is over. They had some of the camping comforts that I miss such as a folding table and a cooler. I was hoping they had some ice cream stored somewhere within the cooler.</p><br />I encountered many groups of canoeist the last two days. Some canoes were so full of gear they reminded me of my own departure from St. Louis three months ago. This past Sunday I managed to eliminate a few more items which I have not used as well as swap my heavy sleeping bag for a lighter one now that the nights are warm. My friend Terri arrived at Ft. Peck about noon on Saturday to help shuttle me around the reservoir. The area was busy with motorboats, jet skis, pontoons and screaming children all there for the July 4th weekend. I was glad to leave the chaos behind and get back to the solitude the river has offered me.The river is lined with high bluffs consisting of sand and limestone. Erosion is playing a key role in the every changing vista. Gullies are carved by water giving the bluffs the appearance of giant sand castles that a child transforms when a bucket of water is dumped overtop.The current is now the strongest I have yet encountered. I frequently must get out and pull my boat through the fast knee-deep rapids. This provides a much-needed break by allowing me to stretch my legs and cool down in the water. I've realized that walking in water is much slower that when I paddle. I have managed to cover 13 miles each of the last two days. I am looking forward to reaching Ft. Benton, which will be another milestone in this long arduous journey. My sister Gail and her husband Barry are planning on meeting me there from Michigan. The next 125 miles consist of more rapids, beautiful cliffs and bluffs, no towns, plenty of mud, bugs and heat. I am camped below the hills this evening that Meriwether Lewis climbed in 1805 to get his first view of the Rocky Mountains. It was a joyous occasion and milestone for their expedition to finally reach the source of the Missouri River. I hope to climb the bluffs myself to get a view of the mountains that I have missed these last three months. I dedicate this weeks paddling to my Uncle Richard Miller who passed away this past weekend. My thoughts and prayers go out to his family. He will be missed.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZznJVxSNb5991qlt5I93Nr2snzh4y8pAIGRzR-76wFTS1iLBa-mgvBr1hY87zPm1gQDXn1MxJpBazBcZqTYP84QrG4B_oF3h8H1A4RZe_ekZlzJxt2jmAbc5-M6FgQxe7pTjD/s1600-h/blog+79.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248598779255534962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZznJVxSNb5991qlt5I93Nr2snzh4y8pAIGRzR-76wFTS1iLBa-mgvBr1hY87zPm1gQDXn1MxJpBazBcZqTYP84QrG4B_oF3h8H1A4RZe_ekZlzJxt2jmAbc5-M6FgQxe7pTjD/s400/blog+79.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo Above: BLM river patrol rangers checking in with me.</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7ibp-u5T2T0aMNidP1EcIqjdccTfW_sMb4YnvsFs_5S77mgucb6HMzowqkU6MmdzsWjTRBI-ldIL0fMM5ABNgu4a9FhbUKukoKwMwOpd-v8Iuiyf5Ybzv9lufDezRAAEcwjj/s1600-h/blog+80.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597919610339906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7ibp-u5T2T0aMNidP1EcIqjdccTfW_sMb4YnvsFs_5S77mgucb6HMzowqkU6MmdzsWjTRBI-ldIL0fMM5ABNgu4a9FhbUKukoKwMwOpd-v8Iuiyf5Ybzv9lufDezRAAEcwjj/s400/blog+80.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Photo above: One of the few actual locations marked of the Lewis and Clark Expeditions campsite.</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvNeaxiy2m0vhkZDRWseQ0s_Y4085kC-WfHILQb9Kijszbx3JgZvaCmwx16wBERXxW51RPdwzPs82vIpu3T3tO0UyfMkQLoNxDApQwTTS1QtV33uInJK8FjRNtmL7hrpcTynH/s1600-h/blog+81.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597923440176370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvNeaxiy2m0vhkZDRWseQ0s_Y4085kC-WfHILQb9Kijszbx3JgZvaCmwx16wBERXxW51RPdwzPs82vIpu3T3tO0UyfMkQLoNxDApQwTTS1QtV33uInJK8FjRNtmL7hrpcTynH/s400/blog+81.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: The evening lighting can really be great along the White Cliffs.</span></p><p><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAJ0kdwztC4vXW27CuG4O9t_elqyW8JuD10MEIjte0xYnh3q7sC_IYeZs2P2W5uBW3ao_UyEOfILqPEtvD56glH89skjzlpWlg_X2xiMkuoTsqQvsjRKVqQQSCIh6SBJ956IC/s1600-h/blog+82.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597926884791362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAJ0kdwztC4vXW27CuG4O9t_elqyW8JuD10MEIjte0xYnh3q7sC_IYeZs2P2W5uBW3ao_UyEOfILqPEtvD56glH89skjzlpWlg_X2xiMkuoTsqQvsjRKVqQQSCIh6SBJ956IC/s400/blog+82.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Loading gear into the boat along the White Cliffs. </span></p><p><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9aD28xyOHISJYhHhlGmPQsWN8AQAW754kztOL9st9Cj04MI1AhbsIzDveH7BEkjzTgBNo4LPMSm8fdKBie5GkoOLP_jxp18f1myoC1T4QVS8PeVkGbUL1VzJegqTF3lfziIb/s1600-h/blog+83.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597929598246674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9aD28xyOHISJYhHhlGmPQsWN8AQAW754kztOL9st9Cj04MI1AhbsIzDveH7BEkjzTgBNo4LPMSm8fdKBie5GkoOLP_jxp18f1myoC1T4QVS8PeVkGbUL1VzJegqTF3lfziIb/s400/blog+83.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: A typical scene in which I have to drag my boat up through the faster and shallow current. I would have to do this about every few hundred yards the entire way through the upper portion of the river.</span></p><p><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjegBLCt2FDs8r6iMMowTBqri3AWNeQqx-tWP7oiJsXmjdGuEmvWgu8rOS4NGJECOs8fEXENIu9a8iOqZOqbRI7YUVJRDiF0TpqHT3Njg4uVxFF6VGkxYYKGGqx3MIDcI6eicF/s1600-h/blog+85.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597928725136034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjegBLCt2FDs8r6iMMowTBqri3AWNeQqx-tWP7oiJsXmjdGuEmvWgu8rOS4NGJECOs8fEXENIu9a8iOqZOqbRI7YUVJRDiF0TpqHT3Njg4uVxFF6VGkxYYKGGqx3MIDcI6eicF/s400/blog+85.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: An old homestead in rapid decay along the river. It was interesting to explore this old house.<br /></span></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtLUnGYEq_XAhi9m5wHrIL0Se07MEn7CAw9-qNEG7foeU_cujnPgoNqMeb88aI8btXMtPxF9JUPqcvP5IVKAENbnMhM7MasgUAgChGcT0muoi6KFvgRxXD2txbKYJgEE5O9Q5/s1600-h/blog+88.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597118491154018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtLUnGYEq_XAhi9m5wHrIL0Se07MEn7CAw9-qNEG7foeU_cujnPgoNqMeb88aI8btXMtPxF9JUPqcvP5IVKAENbnMhM7MasgUAgChGcT0muoi6KFvgRxXD2txbKYJgEE5O9Q5/s400/blog+88.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: A large cottonwood tree watches over my camp for the night. </span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="left"><br /></span>July 8th,2004: "We have ice cream", said the lady behind the counter of the tiny store. My eyes opened wide at her comment. I ordered 2 fruit Popsicles to go along with a cold bottle of Gatorade, Doritos and a Rolo Candy Bar. The small store carried the least amount of supplies for boaters but plenty for my quick lunch break at Judith Landing. The store is located about 50 miles from anywhere only by dirt road. It provides a quick re-supply for anyone going further down river, or upriver in my case. It is also the only store or building along the 150 mile section between Ft. Benton and James Kipp Recreation area except for the occasional old homestead. Dozens of canoeist were ending their trip at the bridge as I paused for a brief stop. A nice couple from Corvallus, Montana gave me 4 gallons of fresh drinking water, which I was about out of. They had just completed their first canoe trip through the Wild and Scenic Section of the White Cliffs region and enjoyed it despite the woman becoming ill on the last day. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I had made fair distances the last few days even though the river is very fast with numerous rapids. I probably dragged my boat upstream at least 4 miles in the last 4 days. Every time I would encounter a section where the river narrowed, the current became fast and shallow. Too fast for any forward progress and too shallow to plant a canoe paddle in without breaking it. When the boat started to hit bottom, I would quickly jump out, grab the bowline and start walking through the calf to knee deep warm water with the boat in tow.Usually after a hundred yards or so I would climb back in only to do all over again after about a mile. It is hard for me to imagine Lewis and Clark and their men pulling huge pirogues using rope made of elk skins. I think the river was much deeper in 1805 when they passed through since there is no way they could do it in the low water conditions the river is in today. As I departed Judith Landing I passed the mouth of the Judith River, which William Clark named after the women he would eventually marry. The wind was hard and steady into my face as I covered the next five miles in 3 1/2 hours where I set up my tent on a small 5-acre island with several large cottonwood trees to help break the wind.<br /></div><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_22/along%20missuri%20rv.jpg"></a><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Hy-levI44xYNzqpF5cJ9p66-vTHBEKmUS8u_KpF8QdvTmkmS9Bj9T6QEGhhB1BxQvZ12VWeL_e8ZP0-5EbS_jenMMB0aJoGy8dqxaXEE4qLYjUEMMT6pJjubOC5GQTzI1reU/s1600-h/blog+89.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597118711120402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Hy-levI44xYNzqpF5cJ9p66-vTHBEKmUS8u_KpF8QdvTmkmS9Bj9T6QEGhhB1BxQvZ12VWeL_e8ZP0-5EbS_jenMMB0aJoGy8dqxaXEE4qLYjUEMMT6pJjubOC5GQTzI1reU/s400/blog+89.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Judith's River named by William Clark after Julia Hancock whom he would marry upon his return to St. Louis.</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JV4_Jbe-vks7-Wl7r7NTOilfJgT0gy1GLZju80U_wrKG0wzDrchBBgvu9BDCJp1ArSYGzA3poeUrPochreCxSNW8WGLvKi4Eqny_8sN6BS7fYO3NmkDODvPUJL5Y5T86BB_J/s1600-h/blog+90.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597121967510226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JV4_Jbe-vks7-Wl7r7NTOilfJgT0gy1GLZju80U_wrKG0wzDrchBBgvu9BDCJp1ArSYGzA3poeUrPochreCxSNW8WGLvKi4Eqny_8sN6BS7fYO3NmkDODvPUJL5Y5T86BB_J/s400/blog+90.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Evening sun upstream from the Judith River.</span></p><p align="center"><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsS_veilmFKACbceDlGTgEPkwrdBwSCikfv1bHFShoTZ88-omHfBY1KgfcZqrFtEvVFBxGC2NS8ac1rYsLSj5BXb5hno1m_XWdGT1NuKx_SgrpwlY9E9dEmJPKZltw5390OsP/s1600-h/blog+91.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597128650528082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsS_veilmFKACbceDlGTgEPkwrdBwSCikfv1bHFShoTZ88-omHfBY1KgfcZqrFtEvVFBxGC2NS8ac1rYsLSj5BXb5hno1m_XWdGT1NuKx_SgrpwlY9E9dEmJPKZltw5390OsP/s400/blog+91.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhaO6uv75mbOXrVo3fRyPnM7sonIvBfKY7k8STkchnSP3YzzSoy2vBWpoBDFO5A_YqJDd8NiMkB9IrJZ5_vcYLXpaKXAseyV5__6nG9ftvwhiVTiDaV2TM1ZqpKIttrESpEjq/s1600-h/blog+92.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248597133667585602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhaO6uv75mbOXrVo3fRyPnM7sonIvBfKY7k8STkchnSP3YzzSoy2vBWpoBDFO5A_YqJDd8NiMkB9IrJZ5_vcYLXpaKXAseyV5__6nG9ftvwhiVTiDaV2TM1ZqpKIttrESpEjq/s400/blog+92.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photos above: Scenes of visionary enchantment that seemed to never end.</span></p><p align="left">July 18-21, 2004<br />I have finally arrived at Great Falls, Montana where Lewis and Clark spent over a month hauling tons of equipment around the 18 miles of rapids that are now drowned out by 4 hydro dams. It is hard to imagine the beauty of the falls as the Corp saw them in 1805. The dams are an eye soar to the beautiful landscape along the river. Days ago I passed the Marias River where Lewis and Clark had to make a difficult descision. They were unsure if they should follow the Marias or the Missouri since they both contained about the same volume of water. They spent over a week camped along the Marias while Lewis walked the great distance south to discover the "Great Falls" of the Missouri which was the correct route to the Pacific. The weather has been extremely hot and humid and the waters swift and shallow. I made it to Fort Benton on Tuesday afternoon where my sister Gail greeted me with her husband Barry who drove out from Michigan to spend a few days with me. The visit was short ( I cant figure out how to turn off this font style, sorry) but a nice change from the hectic pace of the river. Gail suprised me with a quilt she had made in honor of my Lewis and Clark journey. I know nothing about quilting, but the work she put into it is amazing. We ended up mailing it to my home since it would not last on the river. I was met by my girl friend DeeDee below the dams where she aided in hauling my boat the 20 miles around the dams here in Great Falls. The photos I am sending with this are of the dams that have wiped out the falls that Lewis and Clark mention in the journals as well as some of the large freshwater spring they discovered along the river. This spring is huge and pumps out over 135,000 gallons of water each minute. The water was crystal clear and was very tempting to jump in and cool off in the hot humid temperature. I have been spending the day with DeeDee since I have not seen her since I departed in March. She has helped out so much on the home front by answering my phone messages and sending food shipments to me along the trail to various post offices. If it wasn't for her this journey would be very difficult to pull off.<br /><br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWEflLqgKBytBgLNnXl4ES0QqQ19bOsST07xWxDEvFnS6ncWd3iz-dQr9Kn5VfxOetXyVN2n2UB1Sh1GM6hF79h3qbbQJKC0Pl0q56hWm2svDbelbcrqbpt86ZO_56MlXiFjx/s1600-h/blog+93.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248596303046605922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWEflLqgKBytBgLNnXl4ES0QqQ19bOsST07xWxDEvFnS6ncWd3iz-dQr9Kn5VfxOetXyVN2n2UB1Sh1GM6hF79h3qbbQJKC0Pl0q56hWm2svDbelbcrqbpt86ZO_56MlXiFjx/s400/blog+93.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_oOv9TwGSyNDAzC_m6IG0QKZEErxl8T8G8SHtKn_aX_rOlr87Mv4DUYH2Gu3SIq_lzwubyKJv9deHF1I4nQ_OEdJt-EtOZsGe5izXFlF0I3gCGfZp7MpvAWaCtxO1BjTjxZI/s1600-h/blog+95.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248596306050415106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_oOv9TwGSyNDAzC_m6IG0QKZEErxl8T8G8SHtKn_aX_rOlr87Mv4DUYH2Gu3SIq_lzwubyKJv9deHF1I4nQ_OEdJt-EtOZsGe5izXFlF0I3gCGfZp7MpvAWaCtxO1BjTjxZI/s400/blog+95.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em><span style="font-size:85%;">May 31, 1805 The hills and river Clifts which we passed today exhibit a most romantic appearance. The bluffs of the river rise to the hight of from 2 to 300 feet and in most places nearly perpendicular; they are formed of remarkable white sandstone which is sufficiently soft to give way readily to the impression of water; two or thre thin horizontal stratas of white free-stone, on which the rains or water make no impression as we passed on it Seemed as if those Seens of Visionary enchantment would never have an end; for here it is too that nature presents to the view of the traveler vast ranges of walls of tolerable workmanship, So perfect indeed are those walls that I Should have thought that nature had attempted here to rival the human art of Masonry had I not recollected that She had first began her work. These walls rise to the hight in many places of 100 feet, are perpindicular, with two regular faces, and are from one to 12 feet thick, each wall retains the Same thickess to the top which it possesses at bottomWm. Clark </span></em><em><span style="font-size:85%;">(Missouri Breaks National Monument,MT) </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">June 3rd Monday 1805we formed a Camp on the point in the junction of the two rivers, and dispatched a Canoe & three men up each river to examine and find if possible which is the most probable branch, the left fork which is the largest we are doubtfull of, the Indians do not mention any river falling in on the right in this part of the Missouri, The Scolding river, if there is Such a one Should have fallen in below agreeable to their accts. we also dispatched men in different dircts. by land, to a mountain Covered with Snow to the South & other up each river- Capt Lewis and my Self walked out & assended the hill in the point observed a leavel open Counrey to the foot of the mountains which lye South of this, also a River which falls into the Right hand fork about 1½ miles above its mouth on the Lard. Side this little river discharges a great deal of water & contains as much Cotton timber in its bottoms as either of the others we saw Buffalow & antelopes &c. wild Cheries, red & yellow burries, Goose berries &c. abound in the river bottoms, prickley pares on the high plains, we had a meridian altitude and the Lattd. produced was 47° 24' 12" N. Wm Clark (Junction of the Marias and Missouri River) </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Saturday June 8th 1805"The whole of my party to a man except myself were fully peswaided that this river was the Missouri, but being fully of opinion that it was neither the main stream or that which it would be advisable for us to take, I determined to give it a name and in honour of Miss Maria W-d. called it Maria's River. it is true that the hue of the waters of this turbulent and troubled stream but illy comport with the pure celestial virtues and amiable qualifications of that lovely fair one; but on the other hand it is a noble river; one destined to become in my opinion an object of contention between the two great powers of America and Great Britin with rispect to the adjustment of the North westwardly boundary of the former; and that it will become one of the most interesting brances of the Missouri in a commercial point of view, I have but little doubt, as it abounds with anamals of the fur kind, and most probably furnishes a safe and direct communication to that productive country of valuable furs exclusively enjoyed at present by the subjects of his Britanic Majesty; in adition to which it passes through a rich fertile and one of the most beatifully picteresque countries that I ever beheld, through the wide expance of which, innumerable herds of living anamals are seen, it's borders garished with one continued garden of roses, while it's lofty and open forrests, are the habitation of miriads of the feathered tribes who salute the ear of the passing traveler with their wild and simple, yet s[w]eet and cheerfull melody." M. Lewis</span></em><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqnWfVFaYoEkNbFQ_VzM0zsq4ltNrn7Cp_foF-XGj3H_FMwr8sG7QBANtbDQY8cwPqo-xZQZPSNHCeuQux_wtRt8-GSJbXWw0aqpNak_msNSVE7rEaOYFehuIfpsKXMftzQWu/s1600-h/blog+96.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248596313135822786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqnWfVFaYoEkNbFQ_VzM0zsq4ltNrn7Cp_foF-XGj3H_FMwr8sG7QBANtbDQY8cwPqo-xZQZPSNHCeuQux_wtRt8-GSJbXWw0aqpNak_msNSVE7rEaOYFehuIfpsKXMftzQWu/s400/blog+96.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Citidel Rock made famous by the Bodmer painting.</span></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYGo_Y5Gs87PHCkA0JDuBURBgqIjGQ6a9ByRNm7Du9WMGyG0Jfb7CrJDuEFv9wdpAUdPa7rrD02wsSCchH6EtGiZ0yy6daIWsOQuS3MVA5QQGI_oYstMHQYYqjFKUEu3E0iE4/s1600-h/blog+99.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248596311513057218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYGo_Y5Gs87PHCkA0JDuBURBgqIjGQ6a9ByRNm7Du9WMGyG0Jfb7CrJDuEFv9wdpAUdPa7rrD02wsSCchH6EtGiZ0yy6daIWsOQuS3MVA5QQGI_oYstMHQYYqjFKUEu3E0iE4/s400/blog+99.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Working my way upstream.</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcU7l-G-baf0X1neUZ_2SzVx4NUvm8x519RP5R90WvVkJp1SpjPW4nqEOgGXFH-NF6G62FRhZWN7AEqDQLzFd8wsywxULIhZfXEHjMrVP9_9dcsbSSGPyXWWbyERX00lAu3lk/s1600-h/blog+100.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248596316631381074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcU7l-G-baf0X1neUZ_2SzVx4NUvm8x519RP5R90WvVkJp1SpjPW4nqEOgGXFH-NF6G62FRhZWN7AEqDQLzFd8wsywxULIhZfXEHjMrVP9_9dcsbSSGPyXWWbyERX00lAu3lk/s400/blog+100.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: White Cliffs of the Missouri. Near Eagle Creek. One very hot day, close to 100`degrees!</span></p><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2OaOSzWTbqpWZ4p_r71_4TANkQ_JvzZlfm3g9O1vn3Z0ShftlIG1Uz14_23P9iLMesGsW5SlmpTUcfYx_QYyodmdCm-wfCid0N0T6bM1N2vGndSQahKw0xR_YmeModRH53r1/s1600-h/blog+105.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248595257862865122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2OaOSzWTbqpWZ4p_r71_4TANkQ_JvzZlfm3g9O1vn3Z0ShftlIG1Uz14_23P9iLMesGsW5SlmpTUcfYx_QYyodmdCm-wfCid0N0T6bM1N2vGndSQahKw0xR_YmeModRH53r1/s400/blog+105.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Birds eye view of Maria's River<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgYELvkVMhhzlAyHaCpM7ioXxHbnmGbAj1zPMIEQ-gSs6eGb2eM06iOy6heP1H107jpauychyphenhyphenc0I6zUeEovPQ3tz-0GnMBe1EI8pgScIoBPovaU8RSqOn56ERKyKeDZUSaWoQ/s1600-h/blog+102.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248595264383263922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgYELvkVMhhzlAyHaCpM7ioXxHbnmGbAj1zPMIEQ-gSs6eGb2eM06iOy6heP1H107jpauychyphenhyphenc0I6zUeEovPQ3tz-0GnMBe1EI8pgScIoBPovaU8RSqOn56ERKyKeDZUSaWoQ/s400/blog+102.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Maria's River named by Lewis. The Corp. camped near here and explored this river to determine which was the main channel and route to the Pacific.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1kRnxH4d39S9JBvVYCtytyCwuCm9MH9ObnJg0ZAiqqS-vIqmEROvGix-K8bmR0gAQMuiIk9m3U1e57giIiPmbjYFVXStCP_P_UHCxX1Pob3tdzYo6RXg4bHypFDy2AmHg-hN/s1600-h/blog+101.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248595269782037906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1kRnxH4d39S9JBvVYCtytyCwuCm9MH9ObnJg0ZAiqqS-vIqmEROvGix-K8bmR0gAQMuiIk9m3U1e57giIiPmbjYFVXStCP_P_UHCxX1Pob3tdzYo6RXg4bHypFDy2AmHg-hN/s400/blog+101.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Just upstream from Maria's River.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7TejVRzIonUgYtAYq5PGsQJJTZdd7niMFTAyGIqykhQVfuXDWx9mRykBEuJ47itT2VebxDfxLygzw9x13vLN_EYs0dSMvYQMlTrUuMNDIVmqYlx7DzGWoCDFKsmGvXdpOahM/s1600-h/blog+103.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248595268770354274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7TejVRzIonUgYtAYq5PGsQJJTZdd7niMFTAyGIqykhQVfuXDWx9mRykBEuJ47itT2VebxDfxLygzw9x13vLN_EYs0dSMvYQMlTrUuMNDIVmqYlx7DzGWoCDFKsmGvXdpOahM/s400/blog+103.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: River high above Ft. Benton.</span></div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEgbW6FWOGo2bEJY5FR4Jy9_XrELPixyOsPMJw9z0pHTkTtUfs0sCocW-DGN-BRUm-TSPZD8ZYmtJ0T1A2D5DIFUXjGpxV-YLtHf0wqGtxeqBCY7ra22hp-u6I5lLFenJb0qR/s1600-h/blog+104.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248595270148850066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEgbW6FWOGo2bEJY5FR4Jy9_XrELPixyOsPMJw9z0pHTkTtUfs0sCocW-DGN-BRUm-TSPZD8ZYmtJ0T1A2D5DIFUXjGpxV-YLtHf0wqGtxeqBCY7ra22hp-u6I5lLFenJb0qR/s400/blog+104.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Old Church near Loma Montana. Close to where Maria's River dumps into the Missouri.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWpzs9pX_ZgaLvBbKrXthDklvv-D8wgttAa_HLSUhfwnvtUNa4R-UVBGKP35JD9AeG-GxFcx09Xe_SvVzrYmTNhv2Dagzc_sl2RUZQAxOCX8VS0Za5mqs9Ob_Yo_ILdMVp2IT/s1600-h/blog+106.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248594354190252898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWpzs9pX_ZgaLvBbKrXthDklvv-D8wgttAa_HLSUhfwnvtUNa4R-UVBGKP35JD9AeG-GxFcx09Xe_SvVzrYmTNhv2Dagzc_sl2RUZQAxOCX8VS0Za5mqs9Ob_Yo_ILdMVp2IT/s400/blog+106.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Camp downstream from Great Falls.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8olx9h3Q5OhFRWcuv3yFo2d3RWhuxlPBzxWDnZ7yjNDGtWdb35dcfg2b-L1JokTEhTBQZzNbHU22N-lP6aij6djufIxqj2fPqPdmQJ6kNFs2L5z_GyZ23wO-4vheBuxXW_TrS/s1600-h/blog+107.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248594356772900178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8olx9h3Q5OhFRWcuv3yFo2d3RWhuxlPBzxWDnZ7yjNDGtWdb35dcfg2b-L1JokTEhTBQZzNbHU22N-lP6aij6djufIxqj2fPqPdmQJ6kNFs2L5z_GyZ23wO-4vheBuxXW_TrS/s400/blog+107.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: DeeDee my girlfriend (at the time of the trip). She was a huge help in the success of this journey. I owe so much to her for all she did. This was taken at Big Spring in Great Falls.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSL_pDzXHo3B0z9TDroXQSEmh-Mjb-Y3C8c2aTLe0nT_mkcXhd0pXOa3AoKgrnWzB12hGYLmzpbmiyZ8WdHpKFfDKoUDeY0rrlgoYfjqBIjQFNwLpUnT31nSadj7T6VLCutwY/s1600-h/blog+108.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248594357782148578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSL_pDzXHo3B0z9TDroXQSEmh-Mjb-Y3C8c2aTLe0nT_mkcXhd0pXOa3AoKgrnWzB12hGYLmzpbmiyZ8WdHpKFfDKoUDeY0rrlgoYfjqBIjQFNwLpUnT31nSadj7T6VLCutwY/s400/blog+108.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo above: Big Sping. Encountered by the expedition. This spring pours out thousands of gallons of water a minute.<br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUkoesli4C_YaqEHZ71nHGrbFQhOTdg_iqud14MYuS99Xn2LvegvejcB5bull8rO7PRkeutYm774mb6RQJJDa_zWLyDP3eiy_Z9CGGeubN3N29kjEohghSHDF2XLW0ueqFPDj/s1600-h/blog+109.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248594361214833058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUkoesli4C_YaqEHZ71nHGrbFQhOTdg_iqud14MYuS99Xn2LvegvejcB5bull8rO7PRkeutYm774mb6RQJJDa_zWLyDP3eiy_Z9CGGeubN3N29kjEohghSHDF2XLW0ueqFPDj/s400/blog+109.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Photo: Dam built in Great Falls which has destroyed the orginal falls encountered by the explorers.</strong> </span><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Thursday June 20th 1805. "This morning we had but little to do; waiting the return of Capt. Clark; I am apprehensive from his stay that the portage is longer than we had calculated on. I sent out 4 hunters this morning on the opposite side of the river to kill buffaloe; the country being more broken on that side and cut with ravenes they can get within shoot of the buffaloe with more ease and certainty than on this side of the river. my object is if possible while we have now but little to do, to lay in a large stock of dryed meat at this end of the portage to subsist the party while engaged in the transportation of our baggage &c, to the end, that they may not be taken from this duty when once commenced in order to surch for the necessary subsistence. The Indian woman is qute free from pain and fever this morning and appears to be in a fair way for recovery, she has been walking about and fishing. In the evening 2 of the hunters returned and informed me that they had killed eleven buffaloe eight of which were in very fine order, I sent off all hands immediately to bring in the meat they soon returned with about half of the best meat leaving three men to remain all night in order to secure the ballance." M. Lewis</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Saturday June 22cd 1805. "This morning early Capt Clark and myself with all the party except Sergt. Ordway Sharbono, Goodrich, york and the Indian woman, set out to pass the portage with the canoe and baggage to the Whitebear Islands, where we intend that this portage shall end. Capt. Clarke piloted us through the plains. about noon we reached a little stream about 8 miles on the portage where we halted and dined" M Lewis</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">June 25, 1805"Capt. C. somewhat unwell today. he made Charbono kook for the party against their return. it is worthy of remark that the winds are sometimes so strong in these plains that the men informed me that they hoisted a sail in the canoe and it had driven her along on the truck wheels. this is really sailing on dry land." Lewis</span></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdn8kGkL5WLr-NrSlSgrBhMF4dBIi457KfSIYfsbYqY5KUnJE1hqvOzTh5kAultD1htnD1_j2gG3ZR1ZFzSxTGnzCtrss6ANW6mKhr7zwlABvlNABvdoXm7Fy8aggXqEuRLYOO/s1600-h/blog+110.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248594367058214210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdn8kGkL5WLr-NrSlSgrBhMF4dBIi457KfSIYfsbYqY5KUnJE1hqvOzTh5kAultD1htnD1_j2gG3ZR1ZFzSxTGnzCtrss6ANW6mKhr7zwlABvlNABvdoXm7Fy8aggXqEuRLYOO/s400/blog+110.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Photo: Dam at Great Falls. Can you just imagine what it looked like before this thing was built?<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-21994450183460729322008-09-21T11:50:00.000-07:002008-09-21T14:04:56.121-07:00<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">Part 5: In the Wake of Discovery: Through the Dakotas.</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDRrhDDwBO3lSdp9Hcd29EO3yJRqP7VkiyFGtKjvKswwsHC4EE_pH_60FSs1G41XG0Xx8tpzYAy_m0aQMLnVrEQE4zt0oNeOCvYsG0chxK2PI-lZLeClcIKCYVw6nhtiG64o76/s1600-h/blog+27.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248560570663390514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDRrhDDwBO3lSdp9Hcd29EO3yJRqP7VkiyFGtKjvKswwsHC4EE_pH_60FSs1G41XG0Xx8tpzYAy_m0aQMLnVrEQE4zt0oNeOCvYsG0chxK2PI-lZLeClcIKCYVw6nhtiG64o76/s400/blog+27.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 1, 1804"proceeded on pass the bluffs compsd of a yellowish red, & brownish white clay which ia as hard as chalk this bluff is 170 or 180 feet high." Wm Clark (White Bear Cliffs)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 5, 1804"Set out early the wind blew hard from the south, Goats, turleys seen today, passed a large Island opsd this Island near the head the Poncarars River coms into the Missourie from the west this river is about 30 yards wide." Wm Clark (Ponca River near Vernal S.D.)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 7, 1804"Discovered a village of small animals that burrow in the grown killed one and coaught one a live by poreing a great quantity of water in his hole we attempted to dig to the beds of one of those animals, after diging 6 feet, found by running a pole down that we were not half way to his lodge...;" Wm Clark (Near Greenwood S.D.)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 8, 1804"Came to on the lower point of an island in the midle of the river called Boat Island and incamped,jurked the meat killed to day consisting of 2 buffalow, one large buck elk, one small, 4 deer 3 turkeys & a squirel..." Wm Clark (Near Fort Randall Dam)</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 11th, 1804"here the man who left us with the horse 22days ago (George Shannon) and has been a head ever since joined us nearly Starved to Death, he had been 12 days without any thing to eate but Grapes & one Rabit, which he Killed by shooting a piece of hard Stick in place of a ball." Wm Clark</span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 13, 1804"Camped on the S. Side under a Bluff. The bluff on the S. S. not so much impregnated with mineral as on the L.S" Wm Clark </span></em></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSAUYgGY1lizpQl8xhTNiD3HFae9b0cWnfqhCrgZGNea_dQMinjpaXBJvQgXauKHGYiu6xWD09oFFWKb2TK_gv9U-yaxPNTXym-K9L17XvEc4tiYoG08GxiaDp_RMOZpfWYTh/s1600-h/blog+28.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248560575818587826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSAUYgGY1lizpQl8xhTNiD3HFae9b0cWnfqhCrgZGNea_dQMinjpaXBJvQgXauKHGYiu6xWD09oFFWKb2TK_gv9U-yaxPNTXym-K9L17XvEc4tiYoG08GxiaDp_RMOZpfWYTh/s400/blog+28.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Me atop Spirit Mound S.D.</span></p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULj0EEYw-vyn3J_PblKyVlAwGvMMbtFG-NtJqkmhrzMH0LmwjVjRYkXdyPSUUZpqCH-UC20KGoXb-AzVGRIY53jOPgsmLgZVGpT0LC5eAXUnDiRstlW9nTiaMaaLrD-adh_3A/s1600-h/blog+29.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248560582020388418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULj0EEYw-vyn3J_PblKyVlAwGvMMbtFG-NtJqkmhrzMH0LmwjVjRYkXdyPSUUZpqCH-UC20KGoXb-AzVGRIY53jOPgsmLgZVGpT0LC5eAXUnDiRstlW9nTiaMaaLrD-adh_3A/s400/blog+29.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Stan Hanson paddling his Kruger Canoe. Thanks Stan for your help!</span></p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> <strong>Tuesday: May 18TH.</strong> I'm camped across from where Lewis and Clark camped on Sept. 6, 1804. The river is totally fogged in at the moment.<a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_15/LC%20Camp%20Sept%206%201804.jpg"></a> This past Friday I finally departed from Gavins Point Dam having waited s few extra days for my food package to arrive at the Post Office. This day marked the official 200th anniversary departure of the Lewis and Clark Expedition in Wood River, Illinois! I camped with my friend Stan Hanson along the shore of Lewis and Clark Lake which is the water that is backed up behind the dam. It is a very large lake comprising of 90 miles of shoreline with a water surface of over 31,000 acres. Stan had with him another Kruger Canoe similar to the one I was paddling and we managed to get out for a short jaunt on the lake one day as well as make minor repairs to my boat. Stan is my new super-hero for the generous help and support over the last few days! Stan and I drove up to Spirit Mound north of Yankton to visit this out of the way L&C site. The expedition walked their from the river and checked the mound out. They were told by the local Indians that the mound was haunted by evil spirits.</p><p align="center">I departed under sunny but windy conditions along the north shore of the lake. I managed to paddle the length of the lake by evening. The north shore was lined with beautiful tall yellowish and white cliffs that dropped straight down to the waters edge. There is a constant evidence of erosion as big piles and slabs of rocks rest at the waters edge under each cliff, a sure reminder never to camp under one. As I approached the small town of Springfield I began to feel the current of the river once again as I inched through the many channels and sand bars. Saturday proved to be the most difficult day of my journey.The river basin being several miles wide with many dead end channels and large sandbars slowed my progress drastically. I felt as if I was paddling through a giant maze trying to find my way out. I arrived at the tine village of Running Water at dusk after covering only 9 miles. </p><p align="center"> Sunday brought high winds, rain, hail, and a lightning storm like no other. I stayed camped here all day and watched the changing weather. The blackish green clouds that fastly approached at dusk brought extremely high winds which I thought were near tornado strength. With lightning shattering the sky with a constant display of fire, I was glad not to be on the water. I departed Running Water Monday morning under windy and cloudy conditions. The navigation was very challenging once again in deciding which channel to take to avoid sand bars. Once I reached the Niobrara River where it emptiesinto the Missouri I tried to paddle up its silt laden water to a nearby State Park to fill my water jugs, but after dragging my boat over far too many sand bars I opted to turn around and continue up the Missouri. </p><p align="center"> Just above the Niobrara the Missouri becomes very clear. The waters appear more greenish without all the fine silt being added by any smaller rivers. The remaining portion of the day led me by beautiful high yellowish bluffs <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_15/White%20Bear%20Cliffs%20LC%20Lake%20update%20may%2019.jpg"></a>described in the Lewis and Clark Journals. The wind calmed down by noon causing the water to be like glass. The only ripples that were found were caused by my boat as it broke the surface of the waterline forming a tiny wake in the wide river.I have found little trash of any kind in the river since leaving the dam. The river seems to be less used and abused the further I get from any city. Instead of plastic bottles and Styrofoam cups along the shore,I now see sandy beaches lined with bleached driftwood from the many cottonwood trees. It was in this area that Lewis and Clark saw their first antelope which they called a "goat". Vast herds roamed the rolling hills but are now replaced with an occasional cow from a nearby farm.</p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUFRKdOdS1iwtoDfZh4Vnf4NPMKgaF1YLlXHa2uPmbMlQnH0KYA7i5iXYIj6pmd_qELJNY5D05DewQRLj9zT3MbXiwYtbm3YYn9yFtU8zPKiBrII6inhtMdNfa3rgObwoj6Ox/s1600-h/blog+30.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248560580391355650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUFRKdOdS1iwtoDfZh4Vnf4NPMKgaF1YLlXHa2uPmbMlQnH0KYA7i5iXYIj6pmd_qELJNY5D05DewQRLj9zT3MbXiwYtbm3YYn9yFtU8zPKiBrII6inhtMdNfa3rgObwoj6Ox/s400/blog+30.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: On Lewis and Clark Reservoir upstream from Yankton SD.</span> </p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAIzr0PQU5iRxAl9AvVWSmqq7Mre_D-UcWXOItaAy8W6QPgD0VWoBaYulfOTVinBWv4eurolikiqsV3_haV5XNfdu2Pj3zlZYwWFdWcytFPCI51L3d1VsuadjHkWiS8iTRNbbn/s1600-h/blog+32.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248560590050047826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAIzr0PQU5iRxAl9AvVWSmqq7Mre_D-UcWXOItaAy8W6QPgD0VWoBaYulfOTVinBWv4eurolikiqsV3_haV5XNfdu2Pj3zlZYwWFdWcytFPCI51L3d1VsuadjHkWiS8iTRNbbn/s400/blog+32.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: After the storm!</span> </p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPSj9plPgd-rcL2JCEPyNnM1JRWZWcnTMjRyHsjdBpXez-aJKZqn5ipYwobgwQd5Y8BtuirxRx-9m-tdKYB01HAac2HACt7tiQB8lOSpCTL9MX9n1spB2qdnYjTqtqnimMbvi/s1600-h/blog+31.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248559810787277394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPSj9plPgd-rcL2JCEPyNnM1JRWZWcnTMjRyHsjdBpXez-aJKZqn5ipYwobgwQd5Y8BtuirxRx-9m-tdKYB01HAac2HACt7tiQB8lOSpCTL9MX9n1spB2qdnYjTqtqnimMbvi/s400/blog+31.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Near Running Water SD, a small island provided a nice camp.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><strong>May 21-24, 2004<br /></strong>South Scalp Creek Bay: I've lost count as to the number of ticks I've removed from my clothing and tent, but at last count it was near 70. No matter where I camp this time of year the ticks seem to be there too. I have to check my skin often to make sure I have not been bitten. So far so good! Today I am wind bound on Lake Francis Case. The river which is held back by the dam at Fort Randall creates a lake over 100 miles long with over 540 miles of shoreline. Whitecaps crash into the beach with a constant beat from the north trying to inch closer to my boat which is tied securely down on the beach.I made a brief stop on Wednesday to Chiropractor Jay Fitzgerald in Wagner S.D. The owners of a local restaurant (Abbeys) in Pickston were kind enough to help shuttle me around the area and tothe chiropractor 15 miles away. My chiropractor Dr. Marlin Braun in Livingston, Montana had contacted others along the Lewis and Clark trail to see who would be willing to help me out with an adjustment. My hip was once again out of place but quickly put back in my Dr. Jay and I was all set to begin paddling on the big lake. (Thanks again all!)<br /><br />I am camped in the vicinity where Corp. Of Discovery member George Shannon reunited with the rest of the expedition members having been lost for over two weeks and surviving on very little food in a land of plenty. He was able to shoot only one rabbit using a hard piece of stick in place of a lead ball which he did not have. Today the hillsides are still sparse in vegetation and lacking the herds of buffalo and antelope of two hundred years ago but replaced with an occasional cow. I will attempt to depart here once the water settles down but it could be several days. I will take every advantage to paddle when it is calm and always stop when the waves and wind build.<br /><br />The stove I use to cook my meals is a one burner Coleman Exponent which burns white gas. I also have a backup MSR one burner in case the Coleman fails. They both are powerful stoves and can boil a quart of water in just a few minutes. They are both very compact and fit within my cooking pots and then placed inside a rubberized dry bag. I have 3 fuel bottles which last about 6-7 weeks before I need to seek out fuel in some various stores along the way. I typically fire up the stove when I reach camp each evening and then set up my tent while the food is cooking. All my meals are 1-pot meals all high calories. I rotate between rice, pasta, and beans for the main part and always add vegetables such as broccoli, zucchini, squash, carrots, onions, corn, and peas which I dehydrated on a food dehydrator prior to the trip. I add various dehydrated sauces and or soup mixes to add flavor and bulk.I typically eat about two quarts of food each evening. Other foods I have with me for breakfast and snacks are whole grain cereals, raisins, dates, prunes, assorted nuts, turkey and buffalo jerky, sardines, energy bars from Betty Lou's Inc., dried apples and various fruit roll-ups. I do have access to store and restaurants along the way.<br /><br /> This is not a remote wilderness as it was in the days of Lewis and Clark. There are over 100 towns and cities along the route some with populations well over a million people such as Kansas City and Portland. The members of the Corp of Discovery relied on hunting and fishing as well as gathering of native food shown to them by Indian Nations along the way. Each member consumed over 9 lbs. of meat per day on average. They divided their camps into "messes" which were smaller units of men (about 8-9) each with a cook. Each mess had their own particular area to cook and prepare food as well as there own fire to cook it all. They did not have stoves, water filters, lighters, or a wide selection of food as I do two hundred years later. Since there is so much humidity and moisture in and around the water I have to make sure my dried foods do not become moldy which can be a problem. I have not had any so far but it could happen. I carry two weeks of food with me at a time. I purchase the rest in store and I receive a shipment from home every two weeks which I pick up at a local post office.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYWbXrTOp5VvlqF1Mze0__o6gX6KZh7U6aj-KMoIeU98-PYc3IjuPq6sJgARHTzXoCX5Nsi-wYuKQ96C0cElTbX3I7wCuDfxKPTivCl9n1T-emsYkeUl7GdYlH2MZXrTcw7dT/s1600-h/blog+33.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248559819906644802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYWbXrTOp5VvlqF1Mze0__o6gX6KZh7U6aj-KMoIeU98-PYc3IjuPq6sJgARHTzXoCX5Nsi-wYuKQ96C0cElTbX3I7wCuDfxKPTivCl9n1T-emsYkeUl7GdYlH2MZXrTcw7dT/s400/blog+33.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Finally a calm day! Near Pickstown SD.</span> </p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEruUXmEKwrKpa9mblUE09G2Qo6QAo9fDCFDg8SHV2Nx6CIgHPipSOBVq18V7l75XLJeQCWTAwTJmn6EXqYoTk45Ct90Yr8oN_FvDFs6kgD0A0uGkiLJPVp774zRgntlmyiUox/s1600-h/blog+34.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248559827061022786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEruUXmEKwrKpa9mblUE09G2Qo6QAo9fDCFDg8SHV2Nx6CIgHPipSOBVq18V7l75XLJeQCWTAwTJmn6EXqYoTk45Ct90Yr8oN_FvDFs6kgD0A0uGkiLJPVp774zRgntlmyiUox/s400/blog+34.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lake Fransis Case above Pickstown dam.</span></p><p align="center"><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipS_vlBEIQzus8xZCXs_KqBrUKVIClji2Wjyyl51hHehpQMgi7m41u2nXR7PRtGS8J5vmvhrH8UWquKD9KV8Nm22HPjvuueDcFOLCLvOxjhGwuEJl2QULyoj_XbJhaKl6F5oId/s1600-h/blog+35.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248559832087096370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipS_vlBEIQzus8xZCXs_KqBrUKVIClji2Wjyyl51hHehpQMgi7m41u2nXR7PRtGS8J5vmvhrH8UWquKD9KV8Nm22HPjvuueDcFOLCLvOxjhGwuEJl2QULyoj_XbJhaKl6F5oId/s400/blog+35.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: The water is wide and gets very windy.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlWbJJlXAyekIN-5Aw1BJnNfabtiJeemxrtctPkUjOdJPilTR8xXAJJpfqB4sV_Fcc4Maa87zt9GG7RYaPo23lMayneWzt1_3HylDGz1j4C6RS93m6sHjR64sYkuxt_rRse87/s1600-h/blog+36.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248559835924048402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGlWbJJlXAyekIN-5Aw1BJnNfabtiJeemxrtctPkUjOdJPilTR8xXAJJpfqB4sV_Fcc4Maa87zt9GG7RYaPo23lMayneWzt1_3HylDGz1j4C6RS93m6sHjR64sYkuxt_rRse87/s400/blog+36.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ben, Marv, and Vern feed me well. Thanks!</span></p><p align="left"><br /><a name="25"></a><strong>May 25-27, 2004<br /></strong>UPDATE: Chamberlain SD, Tuesday: The weather can either destroy your spirits (and tent) or it makes you appreciate the warmth of home and a cozy fire in the fireplace. South Dakota has experienced more rain than usual this past week and I had the pleasure to paddle in most of it. I personally can't imagine what Lewis and Clark had to deal with since they did not have the quality clothing and gear that we have today. Yesterday I limped into Chamberlain, S.D having paddled 20 miles from below the White River. The winds were out of the east, west, northwest, and north. There was a constant shift in the wind, at times forming whitecaps on the wide river. I stayed fairly close to shore, often no more than 30 feet which allowed me to paddle to shore in case of a sudden squall. I have been storm bound about every other day the past 10 days. This past weekend I had the pleasure to meet and camp with Dr. Marv Braun and Dr. Ben Stukel at Snake Creek, S.D.After paddling a long eight hours I arrived at camp where they treated me to steaks, potatoes, and beans! I was in heaven. It wasn't more than an hour later when an incredible storm blew though with tornado winds and rain. I found out the next day several places were hit with softball size hail and funnel clouds were spotted! I thought for sure several of the motor homes were going to get blown over from the intense winds. Thanks to Dr. Braun from Gregory, S.D. he brought along his portable chiropractors table to give me a much need adjustment. The toll of long hours and repetitive motion can reallycause your back and hip to get out of alignment. After each adjustment I have had on this trip, I have felt relief almost instantly.<br />(Thanks Dr. Braun, Stukel and Vern for the great feast. I was glad to see that your camper trailer did not get blown over by the tornado winds that ripped through the area. I had heard stories about all your otherwindy storm experiences.</p><div align="left"> </div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7guirqN_Hr0hidv_6Dxw8XGhF47I3kSr7lJEeETKxb_yd5KJYjR-smSuaadJt_V-l3p1H7_RpNurfEBph9-XWkuczkpsG_IkjIg2K3JYSr5VbUH5n3UNm5pH9L5u-0-Az5w-l/s1600-h/blog+37.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558891859918626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7guirqN_Hr0hidv_6Dxw8XGhF47I3kSr7lJEeETKxb_yd5KJYjR-smSuaadJt_V-l3p1H7_RpNurfEBph9-XWkuczkpsG_IkjIg2K3JYSr5VbUH5n3UNm5pH9L5u-0-Az5w-l/s400/blog+37.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Hot springs. Could this been the cause of the L&C story about volcanos that they mentioned in their journals when passing through here?</span></div><br /><br /> The hills to the north are as green as the fields of Ireland due to the increased amount of rain in the area. As I paddle more northward and westerly, the trees are becoming fewer. It was in this area that the youngest member of the Lewis and Clark party rejoined the expedition after having been lost for almost two weeks. George Shannon survived on very little andnearly starved to death when the expedition found him. It was also in these hills that the party had been informed of a "volcano". None were discovered, but I managed to encounter a tiny hot spring bubbling out of the hillside. It reminded me of some of the thermal features found in Yellowstone. Could this be where the "rumor" of a volcano started I wondered as I explored the hillsides?North of Snake Creek I found a sheltered bay where several people were fishing despite the weather conditions.<br /><br />Ed Bartling along with Stan Ostgren was patiently waiting for a bite on their fish hook when I paddled to shore. They were camped for the weekend along with their families and were kind enough to invite me up to their camp for a cookout, which I gladly accepted. Ed is a former center for the football team in Vermillion, S.D. and now is a farmer nearby. In his youth, Ed claims he found a human skull on an old island in the river that was probably from a Native American. Ed says that the Army Corp. of Engineers drained the lake (damned river) years again exposing a lot of the old islands thatLewis and Clark mentioned in their journals. Looking at the hillsides I can easily imagine the Sioux burying their dead in many sacred places along the river. With all the rain the lake levels should come up which will help the farmers from the drought they are experiencing.Monday I paddled all day in the wind and rain. At one point I had to retreat to shore and let the wind and rain die down. I was totally wet but not from rain. Paddling a kayak into the strong wind, can cause one to perspire a great deal.<br /><br />I was in sight of Chamberlain for about 3 hours before I was able to pull into shore at American Creek Campground. The sun broke out from under the dark clouds as I exited my boat for the evening.Even though I have days that totally discourage me and beat me down, I try to maintain a clear vision of what my goal is. I live for the moment and try not to think about the "big picture" or I would be overwhelmed. One day at a time and one paddle stoke at a time is my motto. I have lost many days due to weather and will attempt to make up mileage as the weeks unfold. To do this I will need to paddle a few extra miles each day and take advantage of paddling when the water is calm and that means paddling late evenings and early mornings.I am hoping to make it to Pierre, S.D. by Friday to pick up my "food drop" at the post office. If I don't, unfortunately I will have to wait till the following Tuesday to get it since there is a holiday this weekend. This will put me behind even further<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfFKHPccAIWlBPCpjW0xf8-ioLSYY8hUnw6gfvUJHxe6FswKZh-Oe8Ws8aCXkGa5JOQ2yTuCuIhzepOO3oVRcVJk3epSVas9nOLN3GXakQUFhieW4oP_q9pSz_hykVHJcAmBZo/s1600-h/blog+38.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558897693176146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfFKHPccAIWlBPCpjW0xf8-ioLSYY8hUnw6gfvUJHxe6FswKZh-Oe8Ws8aCXkGa5JOQ2yTuCuIhzepOO3oVRcVJk3epSVas9nOLN3GXakQUFhieW4oP_q9pSz_hykVHJcAmBZo/s400/blog+38.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Tyler Hammel and family of Chamberlain SD. Thanks for dinner and the chiro adjustment</span>!</p><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 15, 1804Set out early passed the mouth of White River. Cap. Lewis and my self went up this river a short distance and crossed...;"Wm Clark</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 16,1804""...we sent three hunters out who soon added eight deer and two Buffalo to our stock of provisions: the Buffalo were so pour that we took only the tongues skins and marrow bones..." M. Lewis</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 17,1804"...found the country in every direction for about three miles intersected with deep revenes and steep irregular hills of 100 to 200 feet high; at the tops of these hills the country breakes off as usual into a fine leveal plain extending as far as the eye can reach." M Lewis (Near Chamberlain S.D.)</span></em><br /><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></em>Update- Wednesdays evening near Big Bend. I reached Big Bend Dam and Lake Sharpe by mid afternoon on Wednesday. My portage around took nearly three hours using my wheeled portage cart. This collapsible cart is placed under the center of my boat and all my gear is then placed in the boat over the wheels to insure a proper balance. I then pull the cart like a child's wagon up and over the dam and down the road to the boat ramp. This usually turns a few heads in the process.The last night in Chamberlain, I was invited to dinner with Dr. Tyler Hammel and family at a nearby restaurant. Tyler is a local chiropractor who offered his help with yet another back adjustment during the day. That evening his wife Jenna and children Alex, Benji, and Madyson treated me to a nice dinner. Itwas nice not to have to put my stove together, prepare, cook dinner, and clean up. Their three children were the nicest and most polite kids I think I have ever met. It was a pleasant evening talking with them about school, and lifein Chamberlain. In the lobby of the hotel where we ate was a huge Marlin fish that Tyler caught and had it mounted. It was too large to be displayed at his home or office so he was fortunate enough to have it displayed in the lobby. Thanks Dr. Hammel and family for the wonderful hospitality while passing through! The people I've met along the way have been extremely helpful, nice, and generous towards me. I really appreciate the kindness of all those along the trail.</p><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WyPWQ_x10Bp19ApUKyTyvkmGHub6XWCcelC_5E0HMXi4D_hsxc3ORLAdejwTTB0xU-5vlyAVNSB5SEeOEgclmWb3aJ-AY9d8iBDB0gvVUlvvNBjz5otkxtFz4byHdj9EqRVA/s1600-h/blog+40.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558902061358962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WyPWQ_x10Bp19ApUKyTyvkmGHub6XWCcelC_5E0HMXi4D_hsxc3ORLAdejwTTB0xU-5vlyAVNSB5SEeOEgclmWb3aJ-AY9d8iBDB0gvVUlvvNBjz5otkxtFz4byHdj9EqRVA/s400/blog+40.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Using portage cart to haul my gear and boat around a dam.</span></p><p>I will pass through the "Big Bend" of the Missouri tomorrow. It is here that the river makes a giant 25 mile loop almost doubling back on its self. The distance across at the narrowest part is just over a mile. The scenery is now sparse of any trees. It was in this area the Lewis and Clark encountered their first Antelope and Magpie and also vast herds of buffalo. The buffalo supplied the men with needed food in which they dried.Now only the spirit of the buffalo roams the hills while the distant rumble of thunder reminds me of the sound of large herds of these animals.I hope to make it to Pierre, S.D. by friday and on towards the huge body of water called Oahe.</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJ5FCiQdh4RU_QpDWR-PBKIubUKJIIHQK1idFDBsf8m1Oh7SanHQj_D64-PCBVnMhIf3I_IqQSDh1Z35cVXTnzGUHmX0jrxmRsu9QLil-XpOa2YBd3BRNGeKMSjNJ_FCu3mAj/s1600-h/blog+41.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558906194139586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJ5FCiQdh4RU_QpDWR-PBKIubUKJIIHQK1idFDBsf8m1Oh7SanHQj_D64-PCBVnMhIf3I_IqQSDh1Z35cVXTnzGUHmX0jrxmRsu9QLil-XpOa2YBd3BRNGeKMSjNJ_FCu3mAj/s400/blog+41.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndINlIRRiJ6hMartoC8_2rupsBsknSa5fu56c9hXy6wtALpJYRr3QISGpLhdGOW8eikSjCHwpytMC6G0_peiGP-n7hSyegj4XODS8ibuoKDfi9NXfjISLomtAfdWn1F9saxhx/s1600-h/blog+42.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558909833633730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndINlIRRiJ6hMartoC8_2rupsBsknSa5fu56c9hXy6wtALpJYRr3QISGpLhdGOW8eikSjCHwpytMC6G0_peiGP-n7hSyegj4XODS8ibuoKDfi9NXfjISLomtAfdWn1F9saxhx/s400/blog+42.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Big Bend of the Missouri. Looking out across the water. River makes a giant 25-mile loop doubling back on itself.</span></p><p><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept, 25, 1804"A fair morning the wind from the S.E. all well, raised a flag staff & made a orning or shade on a sand bar in the mouth of the Teton River, for thepurpose of speeking with the Indians..." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 29, 1804"Saw great numbers of elk at the mouth of a small creek Called No Timber C- as no timber appeared to be on it. Above the mouth of this creek the Panies had a village 5 years ago, no remains but the mound which surround the town." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Sept 30, 1804,"Sand bars are so noumerous, that it it impossible to describe them & think it unnesessary to mention them." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></em>There are many ways to carry or portage a boat and gear around a dam. I don't suggest doing it the way I did it at Oahe Dam on Saturday, but it sure gets you there in a hurry as well as gets your heart beating faster. I arrived at the east boat ramp below the dam in the afternoon after re-supplying and doing laundry in Ft. Pierre just 6-miles downstream. I had heard that Oahe had a steep grade and was a long three miles over to the upstream boat ramp. I assembled my portage cart and placed my boat and gear inside and headed down the road. The road is fairly flat until the last 1/2 mile, which is very steep, especially pulling a 60-pound boat and at least 200 pounds of gear inside it. The strain on my muscles was intense as I tried to keep everything going in a forward motion. If I stopped, everything would begin to roll backwards down the road. At the point when I thought I may get a hernia, a man pulled up next to me in his truck and told me to jump on the back platform he had built to hold coolers. As I sat down and held the strap connected to my belongings with all my might I had visions of disaster. As he drove the remaining 1/2 mile to the boat ramp at a rate of speed higher than I would have liked, I prayed that the wheels on the cart would hold up to the high speed. I envisioned 300 pounds of camping equipment, cameras, food and boat cartwheeling down the road ending my Lewis and Clark journey. Well, I survived and arrived safe thanking the man for his assistance as he tried to talk me out of paddling on the lake. I told him I had already traveled over 1000 miles and that his shuttle ride was more dangerous than anything I had so far encountered.</p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElzbJE0lt1Ctfwv0xmX9wYIFwk4MoLOhprpFPaJSo6VSO3ovgRqYsHnAeJ_wqS63QVOhoXZnwRSiu4QiOgvL9o0551pNUzxuDBGL9ZWvZL240wp4YT5tMOmgOQ7ungD0yd5kt/s1600-h/blog+43.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558044543343570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjElzbJE0lt1Ctfwv0xmX9wYIFwk4MoLOhprpFPaJSo6VSO3ovgRqYsHnAeJ_wqS63QVOhoXZnwRSiu4QiOgvL9o0551pNUzxuDBGL9ZWvZL240wp4YT5tMOmgOQ7ungD0yd5kt/s400/blog+43.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Rainbow after the storm.</span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNW1VCOB7C8k7sc6AirXF9KyT8hsH3nfbLDK61H9a7cViCtdtyNyurIRIocbcPPGWJtS9WeeP9GKj6h1UukUZ8Kghyphenhyphen4dkRu4b5TNul2a11pWCx1U3oOjrQP-wjzp1Amw2fuRp/s1600-h/blog+45.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558056367072370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNW1VCOB7C8k7sc6AirXF9KyT8hsH3nfbLDK61H9a7cViCtdtyNyurIRIocbcPPGWJtS9WeeP9GKj6h1UukUZ8Kghyphenhyphen4dkRu4b5TNul2a11pWCx1U3oOjrQP-wjzp1Amw2fuRp/s400/blog+45.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Tatanka-Buffalo. This heard is from the same ones used in the movie Dances with Wolves.</span></p><p> I intended on paddling a few miles but the sun was already setting in the west so I set up camp near the boat ramp glad that I survived my speedy ride. Lake Oahe is a huge body of water extending almost all the way to Bismark, N.D. The lake is over 220 miles long with a total shoreline of over 2 thousand miles! It's a mecca for fishermen and pleasure boaters but is also very isolated with only a couple of towns along its entire length. I was hoping to make it to Bismark by June 8th but have been sitting at camp for three days socked in with high winds and huge waves. As I type the wind is finally dieing down. </p>My arrival to Ft. Pierre on Friday evening was aided by an all day wind at my back pushing me along with every paddle stroke. Plenty of sandbars and submerged forest of trees standing erect like sun bleached totem poles without faces provided plenty of navigational challenges. These trees were once islands and bottomland forest when Lewis and Clark passed through. Now they are the ghostly reminder of the days before the dams flooded the river. Imagine trying to weave in and out of these trees trying not to encounter any that may be hidden inches below the surface of the water. I camped near the mouth of what Lewis and Clark called the Teton River (Now called the Bad R.) The Corp. Of Discovery met here in Council with the Teton Sioux. The Sioux were very aggressive and attempted to steal from the party a well as impede their progress. Constant watch was kept with little sleep among the members of the expedition. A large engraved stone now marks the camp and meeting place with the Sioux.<br /><br />I have reached a point where I have lost all track of time and days. My goals are daily goals. I am trying not to think about the end of the journey but only to a fixed location on my map about 30 miles away each day. I try to pick the route, which will give the most protection from the relentless winds. The wind usually wins out at least a day or two each week, creating huge waves, which can be dangerous for my small craft. Everyone I've talked to says Lake Oahe will force me tent bound at least a few days. Well I've had my "few" days and the weather forecast is not sounding the greatest for the rest of the week. All's well other that the mental game with the weather and knowing I am slowly getting behind with my schedule. <br /><br />I want to dedicate this week's part of the journey to Martin Plamondon who died this past week. Martin had compiled a 3- volume set of maps drawn by William Clark and over laid them with modern topographic maps. I have a set with me which shows all the Lewis and Clark camps and several of Martins maps are posted on my web site. I am glad Martin got to see his hard work come to print. Thanks Martin, I appreciate your hard work. You will be missed.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODZuJrArCfall4xOeDOO1o41eh3yxriO4TCxtFeqBON3ib4GSftKgH3tMVfXjCzcPODa8-6JWhoTDi2Y4IKbDQp-_4rvkRS9X_lemSC9kzrREv721a-WlCA4RZhbfuOuiiPpO/s1600-h/blog+46.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558061389340514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODZuJrArCfall4xOeDOO1o41eh3yxriO4TCxtFeqBON3ib4GSftKgH3tMVfXjCzcPODa8-6JWhoTDi2Y4IKbDQp-_4rvkRS9X_lemSC9kzrREv721a-WlCA4RZhbfuOuiiPpO/s400/blog+46.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZEsiz7DQzxT3GPTPEhu_ZF-NsZFvg9osAQ932EaU-X94TUEXk6IvByuvUeIzGAa_bopur8QIbYRo-bYLC5p8fZEF5arPorcVXieiYEsL5zv03BZgbEvoHoHIORrlHsIFr2ue/s1600-h/blog+47.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248558063149974866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZEsiz7DQzxT3GPTPEhu_ZF-NsZFvg9osAQ932EaU-X94TUEXk6IvByuvUeIzGAa_bopur8QIbYRo-bYLC5p8fZEF5arPorcVXieiYEsL5zv03BZgbEvoHoHIORrlHsIFr2ue/s400/blog+47.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Photos above are after a tornado passed over my camp. The local news the following day reported several funnels clouds spotted in the area. I'm glad I didn't realize how bad it could have been.<br /></span></p><p align="left"><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 8, 1804"passed the mouth of a river called by the Ricares We tar hoo on the L.S. this river is 120 yards, discharging but a small quantity..." Wm Clark (Grand River at Highway bridge 72 at Mobridge S.D)</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 9, 1804"much astonsihed at my black servent, who did not lose the opportunity of displaying his powers strength &c &c this nation never saw a black man before" Wm Clark</span></em></p><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><p align="left"><br /></span></em>The human skull sat partially covered in the drying mud, eyes gazing towards the south. I wondered if this may have been a great warrior or chief as I stood looking out over the large expanse of water. Declining lake levels have exposed the skull probably washing away the rest of the bones and covering them with layers of sand and mud.<br />I was having a challenging day weaving in and out of the thousands of massive trees also exposed due to the drop in the water when I decided to climb a small knoll. I was hoping for a better view of the river ahead and for an easier path through maze of twisted tree trunks. As I was walking along the sand I glanced down to what first appeared to be a round rock. I then saw the eye sockets and knew what it was. The area is a fitting place for a burial site. Here the land juts out giving one a good view in many directions. The weathered skull had the appearance of a head injury due to the large fracture above the eye. Maybe he was a warrior killed in battle to save his family, or maybe a woman thrown from here horse out on the plains.The water levels of the lake are the lowest they have ever been since the construction of the dam. For the past 50 years the higher water has been slowly washing away the lowlands which are now being exposed as the water levels drop. I'm sure there are many other sacred burial sites now visible due to this fact. I paid my respects and left a small pile of nuts and dried fruit and paddled on.</p><p align="left">Lake Oahe has been the most emotionally challenging body of water I have ever been on. I have been on the lake for over a week now. Yesterday I sat 5 miles from Mobridge,S.D. and watched 40 mph winds create havoc to the water. Too hot to lay in a tent and no trees offering any shade, I managed to lay in the shadow of and old fallen down cottonwood resting high above the water, its shade barely covering my body. As I type this I am only about 5 miles from the North Dakota border! It seems like it has taken me forever to get this far. I had hoped to post more updates than the few I do send, but they have been as challenging as the river. I often paddle from sun up to sun down and sometimes don't even eat dinner until 10pm. I had hoped I would not be running at such an intense pace but unfortunately I am. I probably will only be sending one update a week for awhile. My battery power is low and I have not had enough sun to use my solar panels on storm bound days. I hate to give up a sunny day recharging and not making headway, but I may have to do that.Outside the mosquitoes are begging for me to come outside. Lewis and Clark mentioned they were having mosquitoes problems as late as October when they passed through here.<br /><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9qTw1CkKJAhGBvfWT-uqbMUgYZCPRsFeSCVRkmJeUrnEpvrK6hL3CxeyKljrSZI4BoEV8lpV6ba1jVhHlLyiLwVdvIGpRigzAijZJOSHjpo1VQUo_Q7M6UYS1QXA6u63IjDz/s1600-h/blog+48.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248557194244763458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9qTw1CkKJAhGBvfWT-uqbMUgYZCPRsFeSCVRkmJeUrnEpvrK6hL3CxeyKljrSZI4BoEV8lpV6ba1jVhHlLyiLwVdvIGpRigzAijZJOSHjpo1VQUo_Q7M6UYS1QXA6u63IjDz/s400/blog+48.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Human skull found along the receeding waters of Lake Oahe. Most likely that of an Indian and there were probably more in the area.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div>Lake Oahe sounds Hawaiian but it's sure far from paradise. I had been wind bound for a total of 9 days on that body of water. Last week it rained about 3 inches in 1/2 and hour causing the area to flash flood and created massive erosion to the beaches. The rain was coming down so hard that the ground was unable to absorb it fast enough and it rose higher and higher up the sides of my tent wall. It began to undermine the area under my tent as I could tell by the wavy action on my tent floor sort of like being in a rubber raft. I knew I had to take quick action before the water and mud began pouring through the zippers of the tent. I tossed on my rain jacket and grabbed a cook pot from my dinner I had eaten a few hours ago. I frantically began digging trenches around the tent and towards the angled shoreline of the beach in hopes the water would funnel away from the tent. It was actually quit funny at the time. My rain jacket failed to keep me dry and I was standing over ankle deep in mud and water while lightning exploded like fireworks all around me. Several of the jolts sounded like shotgun blast of which I could feel. For a moment I had visions of childhood, playing in the mud puddles near my home in Michigan. After a complete series of trenches were dug around the tent I climbed back in mud and all. I kicked off my muddy sandals and tossed them in the corner along with my soaked rain jacket. I then placed a plastic tarp under my sleeping bag to keep off the water and mud that was inside the tent. I soon began to worry about my boat, which was tied up on shore about 200 feet away. I feared she ended up washed out into the river from the torrent of water pouring down the hillsides. I didn't want to risk going near the water at the time with all the lighting strikes even through I had just spent 20 minutes outside holding a metal pot near a tent comprised mainly of aluminum poles.After the deluge ended, I walked down towards shore shining my light ahead of me. The flowing water and made my route unrecognizable. I shined the light in the area where I thought the boat was but no luck. After a few more steps I could see a glimpse of white and knew she was still tied quip and secure.The rain cover in which I put over the cockpit each night was totally caved inward, keeping several gallons of water from entering my boat.<br /><br /> In the morning I filtered this rainwater for drinking thus saving me from having to use the silt laden river water. By morning there was sunshine in the sky so I pulled everything out to dry. I sponged out as much of the dirt and mud from the tent floor as I could and let the rest dry. By noon I was paddling across the river towards the North Dakota border having been storm bound for 3 days at that particular location. I barely made it across the border when the high winds and waves forced me to shore once again. I was glad to be out of South Dakota but had hoped to make it to Ft. Yates to restock my dwindling food supply.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyRbJtGcHAGSXBidakibDimZ6_7H930evV44C3Up0XTqB9mXOKxTvmLEgKHwiNpqYNcDNYQADlVGeN9LBBeJd_zwPHsgm6V9MZRaAy4k1ghx1jHtl9ZPmsAICqy1Ed078jKGj/s1600-h/blog+49.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248557201032422498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNyRbJtGcHAGSXBidakibDimZ6_7H930evV44C3Up0XTqB9mXOKxTvmLEgKHwiNpqYNcDNYQADlVGeN9LBBeJd_zwPHsgm6V9MZRaAy4k1ghx1jHtl9ZPmsAICqy1Ed078jKGj/s400/blog+49.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Cooking dinner using my boat as a wind break.</span></p><p align="left"> I had originally planned to be on the lake only 7 days and it was over 15 days before I finally was off it. I finally walked to Ft. Yates. This is the resting place of Sitting Bull and site of the Standing Rock Indian Reservation. I said walk because that's my latest challenge. There basically is not enough water to navigate since the Army Corp is not releasing much water from the above dam. The water was not more than ankle deep in sections as I pulled my boat across the many sandbars that stretched as far as I could see. It will only get worse as the Army Corp continues to let all the water go to the lower river and not hold any in reserve. Talking with several people in town, they had to ration their drinking water, as they could not retrieve enough from the river. They were bringing in truckloads of water to distribute among the population of Native Americans.</p><p><br /> </p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-NI3CEijXr_4MnrzabFoIrcS_QtkqsYKjCNlUDIO_c8v-TO6ifkyd_gOw9hthP6Fb46TZTssB1OC6Hw5Vg8FNdYpkq4U8pDLtZD1gKTGlx_HZGA0ORC-tvOg6ahRev5yrFhc/s1600-h/blog+50.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248557206197775346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU-NI3CEijXr_4MnrzabFoIrcS_QtkqsYKjCNlUDIO_c8v-TO6ifkyd_gOw9hthP6Fb46TZTssB1OC6Hw5Vg8FNdYpkq4U8pDLtZD1gKTGlx_HZGA0ORC-tvOg6ahRev5yrFhc/s400/blog+50.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Ft. Yates and low water of the Missouri Reservoir.</span></p><p align="left">I am really surprised the Army Corp has not posted warning signs for navigation in these areas. They have become extremely dangerous for two main reasons. It is hard to get off the river if you happen to need to camp or must flee to avoid sudden squalls and wind. There are literally thousands and thousands of trees that are now exposed that were once under water. These trees block off you exit from the water in many areas causing you to maintain your position out in the main channel. At times you may find a small opening among the trees in which to squeeze your boat but you must be careful not to get hung up on ones that are still submerged. If this should happen, it is very difficult to free your boat since you cannot get out of the boat due to the amount of mud and quicksand. In addition to not being able to get off the water from the main channel is that you could also be trapped inside a bay when the water levels from the dam are dropped each day. One day I watched the bay I was camped in slowly get cut off due to more and more trees and stumps being exposed as the waters dropped. </p><p align="left">I awoke at 4:30 am one morning and fled the bay while the water was calm. I had to search through the maze of tangled mess to find an opening big enough for my boat. I called the N.D Fish and Game in Mackenzie County to find out the condition of the river on Lake Sakakawea and was told it was worse than Oahe where the Missouri empties into the reservoir for almost 100 miles. Huge deltas and sandbars have formed creating a serious problem. The ranger also told me it was the same on Ft. Peck Reservoir as well. If one was able to find a channel after hours of searching you would later have a serious dilemma trying to get off the water each night to camp since dry land is sometimes 1/4 to maybe 1/2 mile away. Everything between the water and dry land is mud, clay, and quicksand. </p><p align="left"> I talked to fellow paddlers Bruce and Kathy from St. Johns, Michigan who started in Helena and are on their way to St. Louis. They were able to find transportation around the Williston area and bypassed the upper portions of Lake Sakakawea due to these problems. This is one decision I hoped I would never have to make. I feel I am letting a lot of people down by having to avoid parts of the Lewis and Clark trail. This has been bothering me of several days. I have so far lost 30 days due to weather, waiting for food shipments, or other logistics that the sequential order of my journey will have to be altered. Since this has been a childhood dream to follow the Lewis and Clark trailI am still committed to reaching the Pacific. Unfortunately it's not going to happen in the order as Lewis and Clark. </p><p align="left">Days and days of wind, waves, rain, heat and mud are the same conditions Lewis and Clark experienced two hundred years ago. Unfortunately their journals don't detail their emotions and mental frustrations, as did most writing of that time period. But I am sure they too reached a breaking point now and then and wondered what on earth they were doing. I'm sure they too screamed and cursed at the sky when the heavens opened up and poured down rain and hail. I'm sure they too despised the relentless winds blowing the tops off whitecaps and buckling their tents. But like myself, I also know that every evening when the sun sets over the western horizon they too longed to see what lay beyond. I made it to Washburn today under heavy winds. This is the area that Lewis and Clark wintered over with the Mandan Indians during a bitter cold 1804/05. I hope to visit the site of their winter encampment tomorrow. It is actually suppose to freeze here tonight which is a change of pace. The current is pushing against me at about 7 mph through a beautiful wooded countryside.</p><p><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwCgn3BezQpOmrpn8N-RGcPm-cUs5Bw2WIUi_RRucXNQQQnLbAfi4qj-sm5xfB_eJ1-avHMNhurqkeM8BrhKKMgg_-dfO5zCruJEBpvaIDQmfgQDviCR2xQ9xtnl_UTiMahhT/s1600-h/blog+51.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248557211965067154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwCgn3BezQpOmrpn8N-RGcPm-cUs5Bw2WIUi_RRucXNQQQnLbAfi4qj-sm5xfB_eJ1-avHMNhurqkeM8BrhKKMgg_-dfO5zCruJEBpvaIDQmfgQDviCR2xQ9xtnl_UTiMahhT/s400/blog+51.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzpO6GNfv9cF6y4VX_HlcTiimELLqduI4GmA08aKz1Z16iwDXPJtE3EaMpTKJfU-bJUmbX9Omu5kFv0WyV6A_25Egzprz_OItqbWcNuYRlPTaanLejeHIRGgAdZhBcBAyAO7mH/s1600-h/blog+52.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248557212820306338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzpO6GNfv9cF6y4VX_HlcTiimELLqduI4GmA08aKz1Z16iwDXPJtE3EaMpTKJfU-bJUmbX9Omu5kFv0WyV6A_25Egzprz_OItqbWcNuYRlPTaanLejeHIRGgAdZhBcBAyAO7mH/s400/blog+52.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Fellow Kruger Canoe owners Bruce and Kathy depart downstream to St. Louis from Three Forks, Montana. I camped with them one night.<br /></span></p><p align="left">The circular indentations that littered the ground are slowly fading away as the years go by. These indentations were once the foundations to the largest settlement of Native Americans. Their homes comprised of circular sod huts in which a small opening at the top allowed the smoke from the camp fires within to exit. I had the opportunity to visit the location and home of Sacagawea, her Husband Charbonneau, and the Hidatsa, Mandan and Arikara nations. Etched out along the banks of the Knife River and just upstream from the Missouri is the remains of this large tribe of Native Americans. This was also the wintering area for Lewis and Clark during the cold winter of 1804. Local Stanton, N.D. residents Cindy and KaDee Berger were kind enough to drive me 20 miles out to this village and give me the grand tour of the nearby farming communities. It was interesting to hear the Park Service Ranger talk about life along the Knife River and within the circular sod houses. These houses were large enough for even the horses of each family to be inside. In the center was a stone fire pit in which they cooked and kept warm during cold nights along the plains. </p><p align="left">It was here that Lewis and Clark hired Charbonneau and Sacagawea to join them on the long journey to the Pacific. It was also here that Sacagawea gave birth to Jean Pompey whom she carried on her back all the way to the ocean and returned again in 1806 with Lewis and Clark. Charbonneau and Sacagawea were both influential in the success of the expedition. She would later help to obtain horses from here people in the mountains for the long journey over the mountains.I also visited the reconstructed Fort Mandan near the original site of where Lewis and Clark spent the winter. This small fort supplied the men with protections, comfort and warmth until the spring when they departed up the Missouri River. The fort was very busy with several bus tours which I was able to avoid by only minutes. These large groups of people seemed in a constant hurry as they sped around the fort location and then back on the bus.I have obtained transportation around Lake Sacagawea and the upper hazards on the reservoir. I will soon be in Williston, N.D. and probably within a week of the Montana border. The people of the Washburn, N.D. have been very helpful during my visit to the area. I appreciate the hospitality given to me be these wonderful people.<br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMGPv-wRnNrEB_qPtXdOuIDzxukDI_2LfW459ScMhWULL4s8cFj1F69cXILu3Hk7Q69Sqw-sct-k8q9Jh8PRycR_CKmmU9_hm7ccfulepk9Bns2tFlxmAmPSYNAP0BrmJbfkH/s1600-h/blog+58.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248556123979667250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMGPv-wRnNrEB_qPtXdOuIDzxukDI_2LfW459ScMhWULL4s8cFj1F69cXILu3Hk7Q69Sqw-sct-k8q9Jh8PRycR_CKmmU9_hm7ccfulepk9Bns2tFlxmAmPSYNAP0BrmJbfkH/s400/blog+58.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Knife River- Site of the Mandan Village where L&C obtained Sacagawea and Charbonneau. </span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmW1wkiNSlNrC6ouNmSvthkwGINE2OWi1_TqbiihQIZfBQPyzETBTdE2bK7xhYRyBLb6A1_JsCui78SXl7yGnP1YYA6eHRcGQpMDsRv7FKXZzUHubNjuqmzdWPXPb-JdpXEMKB/s1600-h/blog+57.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248556128193156514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmW1wkiNSlNrC6ouNmSvthkwGINE2OWi1_TqbiihQIZfBQPyzETBTdE2bK7xhYRyBLb6A1_JsCui78SXl7yGnP1YYA6eHRcGQpMDsRv7FKXZzUHubNjuqmzdWPXPb-JdpXEMKB/s400/blog+57.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Knife River village mud house. The same type used by the Mandans when the expedition passed through and wintered nearby.</span></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSm-JhyphenhyphenLGEQx4gEl3mmWxXzi25FVSq9bcHoLZTmLijmUrj0SiHa9F8XoqriJvrha9x3bcx3h11nPz6UB-A4wEZXCEonzUxg1tkYHmkwiFIukR-8V_eS5m3StGZRTYeNYueZjRF/s1600-h/blog+59.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248556131307987266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSm-JhyphenhyphenLGEQx4gEl3mmWxXzi25FVSq9bcHoLZTmLijmUrj0SiHa9F8XoqriJvrha9x3bcx3h11nPz6UB-A4wEZXCEonzUxg1tkYHmkwiFIukR-8V_eS5m3StGZRTYeNYueZjRF/s400/blog+59.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlj24Z7NM9oUCJtBSRAXhCyeG_50sSRRyfC1Je-HRovHwO2FQ-8F2HdGFwlg81aIpkZsPeGtFNFRZBX2jNmEB-K2y3Tq8cpB7G7pWOXsKCIWEQN3vyXlHGzh9UVW5aKopNgmve/s1600-h/blog+56.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248556140836494642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlj24Z7NM9oUCJtBSRAXhCyeG_50sSRRyfC1Je-HRovHwO2FQ-8F2HdGFwlg81aIpkZsPeGtFNFRZBX2jNmEB-K2y3Tq8cpB7G7pWOXsKCIWEQN3vyXlHGzh9UVW5aKopNgmve/s400/blog+56.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"> <span style="font-size:85%;">Photos: The reconstructed Ft. Mandan which the Corp of Discovery built to stay in during the winter of 1804/05. Located near the original site.</span></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Oct 25, 1804"Several Indians came to see us this evening, amongst others the son of the late Great Chief of the Mandins (mourning for his father), this man has his two little fingers off: on inquireing the cause, was told it was customary for this nation to show their greaf by some testimony of pain, and that it was not uncommon for them to take off 2 smaller fingers of the hand and sometimes more with other marks of savage effection." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Nov 4, 2804"a fine morning we continued to cut down trees and raise our houses, a Mr. Chaubonie, interpeter for the Gros Ventre nation came to see us, and informed that the came down with several Indians froma hunting expidition up the river, to here what we had told the Indians in Council this man wished to hire as an interpiter…" Wm Clark (Site of Fort Mandan N.D.)</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Nov 11, 1804"two squaws of the Rock mountains, purchased from the Indians by a frenchmen (Chaboneau) came down..." Wm Clark (First meeting with Sacagawea)</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Dec 25, 1804"I was awakened before day by a discharge of 3 platoons from the party and the french, the men merrily disposed, I give them all a little Taffia and permitted 3 cannon fired, at raising our flag, some men went out to hunt & the others to dancing and continued untill 9 oclock P.M when the frolick ended." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Jan 6, 1805"a very cold clear day. The Themt stood at 22 below 0." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Feb 11, 1806"about five oclock this evening one of the wives of Charbono was delivered of a fine boy. It is worthy of remak that this was the first child which this woman had boarn". M. Lewis (Birth of Jean Baptiste Charboneau named Pompey by Clark)</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Mar 9, 1805"a cloudy cold and windey morning...;" Wm Clark</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">March 10, 1805"a cold winday day..." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Mar 11, 1805"A cloudy cold windey day, some snow in the latter part of the day..." Wm Clark</span></em></p><p align="left"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">April 7, 1805"Having on this day at 4 P.M. completed every arrangment necessary for our departure, we dismissed the barge and crew with orders to return without loss of time to St. Louis." M. Lewis</span></em></p><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2WyQfEr4ba0CNNG0b8IKHgxEGYZ7QL52dGXQjWyR-I2pNALo42K6iFG7mmVMRXOJPYlFMQ1Pggav-qJ_O1Pq8npkkayzvhfYfCFSSmV3ycPuAXjiNFSAqS0Od7bU8dWOc8MH/s1600-h/blog+55.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248556141444805666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2WyQfEr4ba0CNNG0b8IKHgxEGYZ7QL52dGXQjWyR-I2pNALo42K6iFG7mmVMRXOJPYlFMQ1Pggav-qJ_O1Pq8npkkayzvhfYfCFSSmV3ycPuAXjiNFSAqS0Od7bU8dWOc8MH/s400/blog+55.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Photo: Evening along the Missouri near present day Washburn S.D.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:180%;"></span>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-37513915389973969552008-09-21T11:17:00.001-07:002008-09-21T11:45:45.763-07:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Part 4: Photos: In the Wake of Discovery: Downstream...a bit.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWE_zTzwlJe6JoPOdia62q0kwTWYwMbdMoCjWOogyFVgmkeE-LW8VKoLZfvCdADHwjd1ZHPYQonfpOexr6N7LnIuQrkhukEgk_XItK6N-OVLOcLMWJEsmgDxngwxiN_Y4AzLZr/s1600-h/blog+22.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248543354609759778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWE_zTzwlJe6JoPOdia62q0kwTWYwMbdMoCjWOogyFVgmkeE-LW8VKoLZfvCdADHwjd1ZHPYQonfpOexr6N7LnIuQrkhukEgk_XItK6N-OVLOcLMWJEsmgDxngwxiN_Y4AzLZr/s400/blog+22.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above in Kansas City, KS. A rusting frame of a car in the river. Clean up your riverside KC!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5H4nYv74uB6mX7kA0GcvQcLrLxkFIiKLxuPjOReqU6YE1tLZOqWIDxTB_gKwDBDOLFIUDDwtnaBaYYJ-vDPwfaQ3-qzHP_u7BmjFWhQ-MmOFWZyc_Vx82TBeQISPLssoBX6zx/s1600-h/blog+23.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248543358860963810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5H4nYv74uB6mX7kA0GcvQcLrLxkFIiKLxuPjOReqU6YE1tLZOqWIDxTB_gKwDBDOLFIUDDwtnaBaYYJ-vDPwfaQ3-qzHP_u7BmjFWhQ-MmOFWZyc_Vx82TBeQISPLssoBX6zx/s400/blog+23.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p>Photo above: A typical barge and tug heading down or up the river.</p><p><br /> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguE8dz6MnnfeJx1j1ZUMfGBeNAvMmzBdISfXi5M1-CC0Lz9zUgl0l4Ts-ogvGsTICQu4lKjXp5eAqpQlBxmJEgH5SKn3c4j3xbm8DitMAufnzS9qfaltIXzeJqohxS-3zAxPWo/s1600-h/blog+24.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248543360442479138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguE8dz6MnnfeJx1j1ZUMfGBeNAvMmzBdISfXi5M1-CC0Lz9zUgl0l4Ts-ogvGsTICQu4lKjXp5eAqpQlBxmJEgH5SKn3c4j3xbm8DitMAufnzS9qfaltIXzeJqohxS-3zAxPWo/s400/blog+24.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p>Photo above: Stump Island in Glasgow MO. L&C mentioned these pertified stumps in the 1804 journals. It was great to see something that they actually saw.</p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFKC5Cm_kn-4SgxyIPMwum7QbNUvKONDqSRtwzsR5uJFxYGvDYpCiJFf7QO86reeRp-CKF0C-pZDMNPeluBDAnlre5scb9qKscMHRnTzuL0AzQoKHLmM_-9UiHc6QdJIfa3MC/s1600-h/blog+25.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248543361247850162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFKC5Cm_kn-4SgxyIPMwum7QbNUvKONDqSRtwzsR5uJFxYGvDYpCiJFf7QO86reeRp-CKF0C-pZDMNPeluBDAnlre5scb9qKscMHRnTzuL0AzQoKHLmM_-9UiHc6QdJIfa3MC/s400/blog+25.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above; Glasgow native, Dan Hascamp looking at my maps of the river. Dan was very helpful in showing me around his great town on the river.<br /></p><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZCqqlhaoKhLdSWustwcF6yXXVvz9nV2pnzlPsoOjMDIgVw7dduZJh4Sr7ibMlAZod_l1CjFiXB83yURi7LpKqYKlT451qciYemATXWHm4DZrjkFJ4JN5tJ-wPLfZqJBnpyMK/s1600-h/blog+17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248542398086497250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZCqqlhaoKhLdSWustwcF6yXXVvz9nV2pnzlPsoOjMDIgVw7dduZJh4Sr7ibMlAZod_l1CjFiXB83yURi7LpKqYKlT451qciYemATXWHm4DZrjkFJ4JN5tJ-wPLfZqJBnpyMK/s400/blog+17.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: Sorting through my food drop I picked up in Rulo Nebraska.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySD5IYC_AW47yGyFUceg1UJEuIQBITJpsrldi0axetjjXhAEfT7VNx4hWJzC7WOT_54fVPl-7xyULamjS1a-wUXQVuDPz_urEMyq5tjdNrBjVZZKB-dAPxPJKb_5pA5cSXwL9/s1600-h/blog+18.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248542400532330626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySD5IYC_AW47yGyFUceg1UJEuIQBITJpsrldi0axetjjXhAEfT7VNx4hWJzC7WOT_54fVPl-7xyULamjS1a-wUXQVuDPz_urEMyq5tjdNrBjVZZKB-dAPxPJKb_5pA5cSXwL9/s400/blog+18.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: Camp along the river. A typical river bank camp on the muddy river.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXkUTWsAJXjawxoiWM1X22DAtG-x023xV19Kq1br3QLG_Lj2IJO2s64o5RPfHlrt_Hy_qu7AOqkkcwGXq7IvjY_H6mQbkzjOmx27J4g1SmMH89ytj0eVENtTdu-UfXZy2g3de/s1600-h/blog+19.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248542400301134258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXkUTWsAJXjawxoiWM1X22DAtG-x023xV19Kq1br3QLG_Lj2IJO2s64o5RPfHlrt_Hy_qu7AOqkkcwGXq7IvjY_H6mQbkzjOmx27J4g1SmMH89ytj0eVENtTdu-UfXZy2g3de/s400/blog+19.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: The Nodaway River Gypseys. The Wade clan was very welcoming and poured many cups of coffee into my cold body. Thanks!</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8elOQJrTT3Vg4JRQp3QBk6O_Ug8W5XJqGgq76l9TJ-xTvJkg_70tlIDyApHIQx8tO7bjFtgDPGz9Q6twZ3A0sxyEC-yi7FWK4IyYdz5mf4Rs6uEonX2SYCc8Y3vsYHFDkvTs/s1600-h/blog+21.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248542407384774386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8elOQJrTT3Vg4JRQp3QBk6O_Ug8W5XJqGgq76l9TJ-xTvJkg_70tlIDyApHIQx8tO7bjFtgDPGz9Q6twZ3A0sxyEC-yi7FWK4IyYdz5mf4Rs6uEonX2SYCc8Y3vsYHFDkvTs/s400/blog+21.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo Above: Evening sun setting along the river made for th best lighting. Note how dirty my boat is from all the mud and pollution in the river.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-AhtSM3X9B-sP7LzcVo4F-fHcBUPHG74oL_w5Atd6hAha1mP2FC44Ag_oTboLCzAIBBOM0ZHbRDD-aNNMAS28yNOmJsvHCr4u1u4iE-Lw2Q-vop339OkExapTmya6NfaDqG2/s1600-h/blog+11.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248541478164289346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-AhtSM3X9B-sP7LzcVo4F-fHcBUPHG74oL_w5Atd6hAha1mP2FC44Ag_oTboLCzAIBBOM0ZHbRDD-aNNMAS28yNOmJsvHCr4u1u4iE-Lw2Q-vop339OkExapTmya6NfaDqG2/s400/blog+11.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo Above: Another 21st century image. A large power plant along the river which supplies electricity to many areas of the state. There are many of these along the lower Missouri.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuq188qGaQO-TEJ4y8mIx7PnZ_KRsv2k3oZwDbbEIlKMGSjLp7oDKUNlQUO2Ho39NDrTASwZfmY7JAGtPI5T1CiMhWcnWZ-ssOkTeXR_xIoQQcMMcrt-lxTMnyfwhrgLzY3Wv/s1600-h/blog+12.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248541481576261698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzuq188qGaQO-TEJ4y8mIx7PnZ_KRsv2k3oZwDbbEIlKMGSjLp7oDKUNlQUO2Ho39NDrTASwZfmY7JAGtPI5T1CiMhWcnWZ-ssOkTeXR_xIoQQcMMcrt-lxTMnyfwhrgLzY3Wv/s400/blog+12.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: Mile marker #714. Every mile is marked off with these blue signs on the lower Missouri River from Sioux City to St. Louis. In a way they helped determine how fast you were traveling as you could check off each mile you passed by.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxAjclB3hKaIAAOoz7IKPzXo6sa2mGyToVRrwlT1dlW2GI_vy36iHn0vgTgTKE5JajgZtpHqaa909JH8Qj0mh-DUdtpFLpX0hEisqxVMzj7iQlFeeKB-h1St9wbCWIIWL31j0/s1600-h/blog+13.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248541487831683730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxAjclB3hKaIAAOoz7IKPzXo6sa2mGyToVRrwlT1dlW2GI_vy36iHn0vgTgTKE5JajgZtpHqaa909JH8Qj0mh-DUdtpFLpX0hEisqxVMzj7iQlFeeKB-h1St9wbCWIIWL31j0/s400/blog+13.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: You never know what you will find along the river. Anyone want to play football?</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwe66Pne-_cQmj3DYoM3umLa6c9U2J9-t5-WP6LCoz-TP4Ip5pT2ysTKL5XKrVDripUyiGDrXaoePYvmVDx8DpAlQkLc21GcwJnxCBe6OxLslOUL7Qsf2TiLlxew9QAmXXormg/s1600-h/blog+14.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248541491704917506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwe66Pne-_cQmj3DYoM3umLa6c9U2J9-t5-WP6LCoz-TP4Ip5pT2ysTKL5XKrVDripUyiGDrXaoePYvmVDx8DpAlQkLc21GcwJnxCBe6OxLslOUL7Qsf2TiLlxew9QAmXXormg/s400/blog+14.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: Only if this stove worked, I could have cooked my dinner on it.</p><p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSv1Y3apS-tkOztECqqr2joNN_cvgHP7_bNM6VflC-nfNbT3FmE-aW0YO8tcpK69uc_hj3Y_gQkwV3mmCI1q9XETNp0n5RI1j5lFO2kDqQoY98IlI7ZE8mTETeRh_gwUN4V4Q/s1600-h/blog+15.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248541490379520866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSv1Y3apS-tkOztECqqr2joNN_cvgHP7_bNM6VflC-nfNbT3FmE-aW0YO8tcpK69uc_hj3Y_gQkwV3mmCI1q9XETNp0n5RI1j5lFO2kDqQoY98IlI7ZE8mTETeRh_gwUN4V4Q/s400/blog+15.jpg" border="0" /></a> Photo above: A calm morning approaching King Hill, mentioned in the L&C journals.<br /><br /><br /></p>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-47825048648745726612008-09-21T10:08:00.000-07:002008-09-21T11:15:57.164-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvmQPLGMqan3amrLwGpXi2qiTLd5nm433sph0RmoXysLYptQExVK11Sw-y3p5yxj0HdCY3YFQ2_s5d7mLPYgvkjfFKXM_sAFIV5s3PY7Y-2ziY0uj53QgbytCXM6mLwFh8NBn/s1600-h/blog+20.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248522813547129970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnvmQPLGMqan3amrLwGpXi2qiTLd5nm433sph0RmoXysLYptQExVK11Sw-y3p5yxj0HdCY3YFQ2_s5d7mLPYgvkjfFKXM_sAFIV5s3PY7Y-2ziY0uj53QgbytCXM6mLwFh8NBn/s400/blog+20.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">Part 4: In the Wake of Discovery: Downstream....for a bit.</span>
<br /><p><em>Aug. 8, 1804"passed a island 2 miles above the litle Scouix R. on the upper point of this Isld some hundreds of Pelicans were collected, they left 3 fish on the sand which was very fine." Wm. Clark (Little Sioux River)</em></p><p><em>Aug. 11th, 1804"Capt. Lewis myself & 10 men assended the Hill on the L.S. to the top of a high point where the Mahars King Black Bird was burried 4 years ago. A mound of earth about 12 feet diameter at the base, & 6 feet high is raised over him turfed, and a pole 8 feet high in the Center on this pole we fixed a white flag bound with red Blue & White...;" Wm Clark (Near present site of Decatur, NB)</em></p><p>Sunday- 40 miles south of Decatur, NB. What I had thought were pulled muscles in my back for the last couple of weeks turned out to be much more. Prior to departing the Sioux City area on friday morning I visited Chiropractor James Bjork who generously offered to help me with my back pain. He quickly diagnosed several ribs out of place as well as my hip. After several adjustments I imeadiately felt better with less discomfort. (Thanks Dr. Bjork, I appreatiate it!)</p>I can remember clearly when I injured myself. I had pulled my boat through the shallow waters around a wing dike several weeks ago. Poor footing and improper lifting are a daily occurance along the river. While loading or unloading heavy gear bags from my boat the shoreline is often very muddy, rocky, and uneven creating challenges in trying to balance and lift at the same time. I have yet to have a flat, stable or firm area to pack my boat. Lewis & Clark may have had it slightly easier at times by laying out a wooden ramp from the keel boat to shore, but overall they had more gear (15 tons) which needed to be brought to shore at each camp. Since these men did not have the pleasure of a chiropractor to put bones back into alignment they probably all suffered from pain and discomfort. This constant labor may have been the reason for members Reed and LaLiberty to desert the expedition in the area I passed through on friday. Reed was caught and sentenced to run the gauntlent four times while each man with 9 switches hit him.
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<br />As I paddled on towards Decatur I pondered the thoughts of Corp. members catching over 1000 fish at what was to become known as "Fishing Camp". I can't imagine eating any of the fish caught from the river today considering all the chemical, fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides washing into the river from the nearby farms. I'm sure for the Corp. members it was a nice change of pace from the heavy wild game diet they were eating.
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<br />The fast flowing river sped me past the yellowish clay bluffs known as the Loess Hill that lined the rivers west edge. The trees being all in full foilage provided a bright green backdrop to the otherwise plain landscape. The final bluff near Decatur is where the Mahars Chief Black Bird was buried in 1800 after dieing from small pox. Members of the Corp. had climbed the 300 foot bluff placing a pole and flag over the grave in 1804. Many gifts were also given to the Mahar Nation by the Lewis and Clark expedition whom they found to be very friendly.
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<br />I arrived near sunset in Decatur and pitched my tent in the city campground along the rivers edge. There was only one other camper located in the well kept park. It sat high overlooking the river and nearby bridge. I was told that it was going to rain the next day so I placed my tent next to the picnic shelter in case I needed some extra protection from the rain. Sure enough it rained and temperatures dropped to the 40's making an uncomfortable day in the tent. I managed to get a few supplies from the nearby market to help supplement what I already had. Decatur is the 2nd oldest town in Nebraska with a population of about 600. The town sits at the southern end of the Winnebago Indian Reservation. My visit to the coffee shop on Saturday proved to be the gathering place for the community. A table of men in their 60's talking politics, while 1/2 a dozen well groomed gray haired ladies discussed "so and so's" grandkids. The young waitress managed to keep a smile while serving all 40+ people piles of biscuts and gravy and hot coffee. After breakfast I retreated to my tent while the rain beat down for hours. I bought a local newspaper which quickly became damp in my tent from all the rain pounding down.
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<br />Sunday provided a hint of sunshine with many lingering dark clouds. By the time I loaded my boat I felt I had a good chance at having sun all day. With the fast current I counted off each blue mile marker sign and covered nearly 40 miles to the large sand bar across from the Tyson Island Wildlife Area. My camp lies only a mile from Lewis and Clarks camp of August 5, 1804. The river today being more straight and less crooked as it was for the early explorers. In many places the original channel is nearly 4 miles inland on what are now tilled fields ready to be planted with corn. My last calculations put me arriving back in Boonville, Mo about the 10th of May.
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<br /><em>July 12, 1804"after and early brackfast I with five men in a Perogue assended the River Ne-Ma-Haw about three miles to the mouth of a small creek on the Lower Side, here I got our of the Perogue, after going to several small mounds in the leavel plain, I assended a hill on the lower side, on this hill several artificial mounds were raised, from the top of the highest of those mounds I had an extensive view of the serounding plains, which afforded one of the most pleasing prospects I ever beheld..." Wm Clark(Near Fortescue NB)</em>
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<br /><em>July 14th, 1804"at half past seven, the atmosphere suddenly became darkened by a black and dismal looking cloud…in this situation the storm which passed over and open Plain from the N.E. struck the our boat on the Starb. Quarter, and would have thrown her up on the Sand Island dashed to pices in an Instant, had not the party leeped out on the Leward Side and kept her off with the assistance of the ancker & Cable, untill the Storm was over, the waves washed over her windward Side and she must have filled with water if the Lockers which had notbeen covered with tarpoling & threw of the water & prevented any quality getting into bilge of the Boat" Wm Clark(Present site of Nishnabotna)</em>
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<br /><em>July 15, 1804"I proceeded on thro those praries several miles to the mouth of a large creek on the L.S. called Nema har this is a small river" Wm Clark (Site of Little Nemaha River)July 18, 1804"Saw a dog nearly starved on the bank, gave him some meet, he would not follow, our hunters killed 2 deer today" Wm. Clark</em>
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<br /><em>July 19, 1804"passed some high clift 4 1/2 miles above the islands on the L.S. of yellow earth passed several sand bars, that were wide and at one place verry shallow, Two beautiful runs fall into the river near each other at this clift." Wm Clark (Site of Nebraska City, NB)</em>
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<br /></em><a name="201"></a>April 30th
<br />Thursday- Downstream from Brownville, Nebraska: Sometimes if you look at a certain situation for a moment, it often seems surreal. This is in reference to the past few minutes here at my camp. I just finished dinner on a muddy sandbar; in the distance an owl hoots from the nearby trees, a squirrel chatters dissatisfaction at something, while the low droaning hum of the Cooper Nuclear Station sits just upstream from my camp. To add to this, I just tried to make a phone call to Churchill Clark ( 5th great grand-son to William Clark) with my satellite phone. I was able to do all of this within a mile of the July 15th, 1804 encampment of the Lewis and Clark party. I almost feel as if I am living in two centuries at once, the nuclear age and the buckskin age. With all the high tech gear I have, I get lost in the hustle of the 21st century only to drift back in time when all the equipment is put away and all I have is my paddle and my boat to drift along. I paddled 60 miles today under heavy clouds from Plattsmouth to Brownville, Nebraska.
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<br />Thursday I had been wind bound while 4-5 foot whitecaps were rolling upstream on the river. Mile after mile I pass small creeks, rivers, thick forest, with names like Papillion Creek, L'Eau qui pleure (Water which cry's), Platt River and Nishnabotna Creek. Many still hold the names given to them by Lewis and Clark while others have been changed. The place where these bodies of water empty into the Missouri all look the same. The Army Corp. of Engineers has altered each one of the streams, rivers and creeks. Most have the appearance of a man made ditch. Often, for miles they are perfectly straight with their banks smooth and sloping at a 35-degree angle into the river. Atop grows a thick coat of lush green grass giving the appearance of someone's front yard. As the current carries me along often unnoticed by anyone on shore, I pass other landmarks of the industrial age. Bellevue Power Plant, Missouri Portland Cement Co., American Commercial Marine Services, Council Bluffs Water Intake, Northern Natural Gas Co., Farmland Industries, Farm Crops Corp., Terminal Packaging Corp., Iowa Power and Light Co. These large ominous looking buildings seem out of place, out of context. All seem to emit their own sounds and smells as I pass. Occasionally a pipe leads directly from the building to the water where brackish yellow colored water dumps into the Missouri. Moments like these I know I am living in the 21st century while a mile further downstream finds me drifting back in time gazing at the hillsides to see huge old growth cottonwood trees that I know watched the Corp. of Discovery when they passed by two centuries before. While wind bound Thursday in Plattsmouth I came across the Canoe Outfitters Store on Main Street. I was surprised there would be much of any interest in canoeing in Nebraska. Denny Lange the young manager of the well-stocked store hopes to increase people's interest in water sports not only on the Missouri River but elsewhere in the state. By showing people there is something enjoyable or constructive to do on the river they may lean to appreciate its value and learn that it's not a place to toss garbage into. I agree with him completely. I witnessed several people at the boat ramp who would toss their beer cans into the river when finished. It seems that many people are led to believe that that is what you're suppose to do. I like to think of a river as like the veins in your body, supplying your organs with nutrients. If you mistreat your body by poisoning it with chemicals and garbage then the body will eventually give out or you will end up with some disease. The same goes for the rivers. But if you take care of them and respect the vital importance of their health, then we as a country will be much better off. Denny is one of the few people I have met who makes a point in picking up trash along the river while so many are adding to the problem. I visited with him at his store for several hours looking over the many nice canoes and kayaks on display. It was a nice change of pace talking with someone who also values our rivers. Denny stopped by the boat ramp where I was waiting out the high winds along with local newspaper reporter Melissa Breazile-Enz who interviewed me for an upcomming story to be featured in the paper.
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<br />As I drift off to another nights sleep (7:53pm), a deer snorts in the woods near my tent. It probably is disturbed from the glowing light from within the tent. The hum of the nearby Nuclear Plant slowly puts me to sleep.
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<br /><em>July 12, 1804"after and early brackfast I with five men in a Perogue assended the River Ne-Ma-Haw about three miles to the mouth of a small creek on the Lower Side, here I got our of the Perogue, after going to several small mounds in the leavel plain, I assended a hill on the lower side, on this hill several artificial mounds were raised, from the top of the highest of those mounds I had an extensive view of the serounding plains, which afforded one of the most pleasing prospects I ever beheld..." Wm Clark(Near Fortescue NB)</em>
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<br /><em>July 14th, 1804"at half past seven, the atmosphere suddenly became darkened by a black and dismal looking cloud…in this situation the storm which passed over and open Plain from the N.E. struck the our boat on the Starb. Quarter, and would have thrown her up on the Sand Island dashed to pices in an Instant, had not the party leeped out on the Leward Side and kept her off with the assistance of the ancker & Cable, untill the Storm was over, the waves washed over her windward Side and she must have filled with water if the Lockers which had notbeen covered with tarpoling & threw of the water & prevented any quality getting into bilge of the Boat" Wm Clark(Present site of Nishnabotna)</em>
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<br /><em>July 15, 1804"I proceeded on thro those praries several miles to the mouth of a large creek on the L.S. called Nema har this is a small river" Wm Clark (Site of Little Nemaha River)</em>
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<br /><em>July 18, 1804"Saw a dog nearly starved on the bank, gave him some meet, he would not follow, our hunters killed 2 deer today" Wm. Clark</em>
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<br /><em>July 19, 1804"passed some high clift 4 1/2 miles above the islands on the L.S. of yellow earth passed several sand bars, that were wide and at one place verry shallow, Two beautiful runs fall into the river near each other at this clift." Wm Clark (Site of Nebraska City, NB)</em>
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<br /><a name="201"></a><em>July 4th , 1804"Came to on the L.S to refresh out selves & Joseph Fields got bit by a snake,which was quickly doctoered with Bark by Cap. Lewis. Passed a Creek 12 yds wideon the L.S comeing out of an extensive Prarie reching within 200 yards of the river, as this Creek has no name, and this day being the 4th of july the day of the independence of the U.S. call it 4th of July 1804 Creel, we dined on Corn Capt. Lewis walked on shore above this Creekand discovered a high Mound from the top of which he had an extensive View, 3 paths concentering at the mound Saw great numbers of Goslings to day which were nearly grown, the before mentioned lake is clear and contain great quantities of fish and Gee & Goslings" Wm Clark (At present day Atchison Kansas)</em>
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<br /><em>July 9, 1804"Camped at a point on the L.S opposite the head of the Island, our party was incamped on the Opposite side, their not answering our signals caused us to suspect the persons camped opposite to us was a War party of Soux" Wm Clark (Near Present Wolf River KS)</em>
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<br /></em><strong>Sunday May 2</strong>- Between St. Joseph and Atchison. What was once an island in the middle of the Missouri comprising of about 8000 acres according to William Clark in his journal the Nodaway River empties near what was once the head of the island. Today the land is not divided by the river but forms one main channel. I saw two men standing on shore just below where the Nodawayempties in the Missouri. I approached in my boat and yelled up to them asking if there was a place to get some drinking water. The wind was blowing rather briskly and they yelled back saying that they could not understand me. I paddled up to the dock and repeated my question. They motioned to come on up which I did carrying two empty gallon jugs for water. A dozen camper trailers lined the shore and smoke from the nearby fire dispersed quickly into the wind. About eight friends greeted me with a hot cup of coffee. Gary & Diane Wade and their friends come every weekend to camp and have a good time on their boats and to spend time around the fire at the rivers edge. I told them about my trip and they brought up a story or two of others in the past that were paddling the riverand had stopped too. They said a man and his daughter camped there and were traveling the entire river a few years back.<a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_12/Nodaway%20River%20Friends%20may%202%20update.jpg"></a> Unfortunately I didn't write everyone's name down but one woman called the local Channel 2 News people who were very interested in an interview. I told the news people on the phone I would meet them downstream in an hour or so once I left "Camp Nodaway".
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<br />Every 15 minutes a micro blast storm would blow through pelting us with wind and hail. After my second cup of coffee I headed out but was tempted to stay near the warm fire. After an hour of paddling I began to watch for the Channel 2 News women on shore. I was to meet her at the Sunset Grille but since I'd never been there I had to keep my eyes focused on the shore for the Grille. I soon spotted the tripod and camera and pulled my boat in near the boat ramp. The interview was rather challenging since another wicked blast of hail and wind forced us to retreat inside the restaurant where we finished the interview. I'm not very comfortable with "on the spot" questions but did my best. I appreciated the exposure for my journey and hoped maybe my story will get people excited for the upcoming Lewis & Clark Bicentennial which will be huge here in St. Joe. I paddled through town without stopping since there is no easy access from the river. Since the days of Lewis and Clarks passing many major historic events have taken place here. The early pioneers departed in covered wagons heading out on the Mormon and Oregon Trail. Galloping horses headed west-carrying bags of mail on the Pony Express trail. What will another100 years bring to the speed of communication and transportation?
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<br />This past Friday (April 30) I arrived in Rulo, Nebraska before the Post Office closed at 4pm. My girlfriend DeeDee had shipped two weeks worth of <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_12/food%20resupply%20bag%20update%20may%202.jpg"></a>food there the week before. Since I was delayed early in the week due to weather I was really hoping to get to Rulo on Friday or I would be forced to wait till Monday in order to pick up my package. <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_12/downtown%20rulo%20po%20on%20left%20update%20may%202.jpg"></a>Rulo is a very small town. There is only 3 businesses besides the Post Office, all bar & grills. The population is not more than 100 and comprises of mostly retired farmers and railroad workers. Rulo was once a busy riverboat community in another era almost forgotten.I set up my camp at the town boat ramp for the night. I grabbed a quick bite at the Ole Time Saloon, which is more of a restaurant than a saloon. It was also the entire towns meeting place for dinner that night. As new people entered in from the street, they would obviously give me a second look as I'm sure an unfamiliar face eating in "their" restaurant surprised them. I sat at the bar drinking several cups of coffee with the bartender who goes by the name of Babe. His blaze orange shirt would sometimes distract me from his wise cracks and stories about the town fights that took place years ago. Babe took an early retirement to take care of his father who was ill at the time and now works part time for the three ladies who own the place. Upon receiving my new shipment of food, it took a little extra time trying to make it fit into my food bags. Grains, pasta shells, nuts, jerky and soup mixes can be very bulky taking up valuable space in my already packed boat. After a week of consuming what I brought I will discover plenty of new spaces only to be filled again at my next food drop. The large sandbar I am camped on is also the resting place for piles of driftwood. When the water is high the trees and logs get washed get washed down from above only to get hung up on the shallow areas downstream. The further I get into the state the more mud I am again encountering. Between the waters edge and the dry sand there is a section of about 10 feet of mud to wade through, often deep! Many bird and animal tracks are encased in the mud and will soon disappear after the next high water or rain. Tracks of the Great Blue Heron, Canada goose, Beaver, Raccoon, and human make their mark in the dark gray mud. With the constant exposure to mud, blowing sand, river water and dampness my clothes are in need of washing. Sometimes my daily goals are simple. On Monday it is to find a laundry in Atchison, Kansas. Atchison is home to the "Atchison-Topeka-Santa Fe" railroad and aviator Amelia Earhart.
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<br /><strong>May 5-8, 2004
<br /></strong>May 5th
<br />The past week was like paddling through the history books. Each town with its own story. In Atchison, KS I stopped for a brief visit at Amelia Earhart's birthplace perched high overlooking the Missouri. Whatever happened to her we will probably never know. Leavenworth, KS I passed along the famed military prison used for years to house military criminals. As I plodded along the silt laden river under humid skies, I had thought of Mark Twain piloting a steam paddle wheeler dreaming up stories of his own. It was very humid yesterday and in the high 80's. I was feeling very tired from the heat and not too thrilled about paddling but pressed on regardless. I reached the site of Fort Osage and climbed the high bluff. This fort was constructed in 1808 on orders of William Clark a few years after he returned from his expedition. The people were all dressed in cloths of the early 1800's and for a moment I felt I too had stepped back a couple of centuries, only to realize I was still wearing my hot life jacket and rubber boots. The reaction by the nice women there, was obvious I also needed a shower. I stunk bigtime!!
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<br />I have made quick time to Lexington, Mo a nice little town with 1800's style buildings. Lexington was the site of the 1861 Civil War battle called "Battle of the Hemp Bales" in which the south won and gained control of the Missouri River. A confederate cannonball is still lodged into the tall pillars of the country courthouse just like it was placed there by a southern soldier. I should arrive in Boonville about Monday the 10th. The weather is suppose to hold until Sunday when rain is expected.
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<br /><em>June 19, 1804" I observed on the shore Goose & Rasp berrries in abundance in passing some hard water round a point of rocks on the L.S. wewere obliged to take out the roape & Draw up the Boat for 1/2 a mile, we came too on the L.S. near a lake of the sircumfrance of severla miles, situated on the L.S. about two miles from the river this lake is said to abound in all kinds of fowls, great numbers of deer frequent this lake dureing summer season, and feed on the bows" Lewis</em>
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<br /><em>June 19, 1804"passed a creek on the L. Side Called Tabboe 15 yds wide… we came too on the L.S. near a Lake of the sircumfrance of several miles, situated on the L.S. about two miles from the river this lake is said to abound in all finds of fowls..." Wm Clark (Present Tabo Creek and Hicklin Lake, MO)</em>
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<br /><em>June 20th, 1804"My servent York nearly loseing an eye by a man throwing sand in it..." Wm Clark" We took some loner observations, which detaind us until 1 oclcok a butiful night but the air exceedingly damp, & the Mosquiters verry troublesome"June 21, 1804Two men sent out to hunt this evening brought in a buck and a por turkey." Wm Clark</em>
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<br /><em>June 24, 1804"Passed the mouth of a creek 20 yds. wide named Hay Cabin Creek from the Camps of Straw built on it"Wm. Clark (Present day Little Blue River)</em>
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<br /><em>June 27th, 1804"a fair morning, the river rose a little last night, we determine to delay at this place three to four days to make observations & recruit the party, several men out hunting, onloaded our Perogue, and turned her up to dry with a view of reparing her after completing a strong redoubt or brest work from one river to the other, of logs & bushes six feet high,The Country about the mouth of this river is verry fine on each side as well as North of the Mossourie" Wm. Clark (Present day mouth of Kansas River and Kansas City)</em>
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<br /><em>June 28th, 1804"This river receves its name from a nation which dwells at this time on its banks & has 2 villages one about 20 leagues & the other 40 Leagues up, those Indians are not very noumerous at this time, reduced by war with their neighbors" Wm. Clark (Present site of Kansas City)</em>
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<br /><em>June 29th, 1804"Ordered- A Court Martiall will set this day at 11 oclock, to consist of five members, for the trial of John Collins and Hugh Hall, Confined on Charges exhibited against them by Sergeant Floyd, agreeable to the articles of War.John Potts to act as judge advocate. The Court Convened agreeable to order and preceeded to the trail of the Prisoners Viz John Collins Charged 'with getting drunk on his post this Morning out of whiskey put under his charge as a Sentinal, and for Suffering Hugh Hall to draw whiskey out of the said Barrle intended for the pary.' To this charge the prisoner plead not guilty. The Court after mature deliberation on the evidence adduced etc,are of oppinion that the prisoner is guilty of the charged exhibit against him, and do therefore sentence him to receive one hundred lashes on his bear back." Wm. Clark</em>
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<br /></em><strong>May 6th, 2004
<br /></strong>How many miles do I travel each day? That question comes up quite often from people along the river. I average about 6-7 miles every hour. So if I paddle a 6-hour day then I should cover about 36 miles. I have been paddling closer to 45 on average with one day covering 60 miles. Once I complete the section from Yankton, S.D., to Boonville, it will be on slower water for over a month. Most of the Missouri River through the Dakotas is more like a lake than a river. The water held back by the hydroelectric dams is often several miles wide, very deep and without any current. The maps (charts) I have been using are the U.S. Army Corp. of Engineers Navigational Charts. They contain probably too much information for a lone paddlers like myself but are ideal for a big boat especially the tugs which travel the river. Each map covers a distance of about 8 river miles. I often use 6-8 maps a day for the section I paddle. These charts show the main channel, which usually has the fastest current. They also show the "wing dikes" (my good friends). Every dike is listed. What I like about this fact is that usually on the inside of every river bend, and behind or below each dike is usually a sand bar sometimes large enough for my tent. Many however are too muddy, underwater, or the ground is too uneven. The water behind these dikes is always lacking any current and they protect my camp area from any wakes created by other boats especially the big tugs. These sand bars are sort of like having your own personal lagoon and beach to camp on. I also have with me a set of reconstructed maps drawn by William Clark. These maps also show Clarks compass bearings and miles traveled. Martin Plamondon compiled this set of maps. The river has changed its course many times since Lewis and Clark passed through. The Army Corp. Of Engineers have also restricted the rivers natural desire to meander. What I like about Plamondon's maps it that they show the general area where the expedition set up each of their camps. In many places, L&C camps are now far from water due to the river having changed its course over the years. I am typing this from what was called the "Rope Camp" in the Lewis and Clark Journals. They stayed here several days starting on June 17th, 1804. The river actually flowed a little more to the west of where I am. The members of the expedition spent several day making rope (600 feet) as well as 20 new oars for their boats. They mention that the ticks and mosquitoes were bad. I have found several ticks crawling around and a few mosquitoes too so far.
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<br />I place my maps that I use for each days travel in a clear flat map case. I then set them directly in front of me on the floor of my boat so that I can glance down to see where I am. The rest of the maps are stored away in waterproof bags to be used later in the week. I do not need a compass to aid in navigation. In fact I could probably paddle almost the entire river without a map. It is very straightforward. Remember, the L&C Expedition did not have any maps of the route to the Pacific. They made their own as they went.
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<br />I made it past Kansas City yesterday. It started out to be challenging when I encountered 3 barges within 10 minutes. Once was so loaded with sand and gravel that it was almost entirely submerged as it passed by me at over 20 mph leaving a 5-foot wake in its path. Commercial jets circled overhead waiting their turn to land at the nearby airport. The highways buzzed with the early morning commuters and the tall skyscrapers reflected the already too hot sun as I passed under the Union Pacific Bridge as a 500-ton train clattered overhead. The Kansas River added its share of water at a 90-degree angle bend in the Missouri River. It was here that the L&C expedition camped for several days making lunar observations to determine their latitude. As I began my day by breaking my sunglasses, I ended it with a snapped tent pole. Both repaired with duct tape. Tired, warm, and in bed by 9pm. Another hot day in store for tomorrow. Take Care, Mile 293 Somewhere near Waverly.
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<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">June 8, 1804"passed the Mine River at 9 miles this river is about 70 yards wide at its mouth and is said to be navigable for Perogues 80 or 90 ms." Wm Clark (Present Lamine River, MO)</span></em>
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<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">June 13, 1804We set out early passed a round bend to the S.S. and two Creeks called the round bend Creeks between those two Creeks and behind a small willow island in the bend is a Prarie in which the Missouries Indians once lived..." Wm Clark (Near Brunswick, MO)</span></em>
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<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">J</span></em><em><span style="font-size:85%;">une 14, 1804"we passed a creek above the Bluff about 18yds wide, this creek is called Snake Creek, a bad sand bar just below, which we found difficullty in passing & Campd above." Wm Clark (Near Miami, MO)</span></em>
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<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">June 19, 1804"passed a creek on the L. Side Called Tabboe 15 yds wide...; we came too on the L.S. near a Lake of the sircumfrance of several miles, situated on the L.S. about two miles from the river this lake is said to abound in all finds of fowls..."Wm Clark (Present Tabo Creek and Hicklin Lake, MO)</span></em>
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<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">June 20th, 1804"My servent York nearly loseing an eye by a man throwing sand in it..." Wm Clark" We took some loner observations, which detaind us until 1 oclcok a butiful night but the air exceedingly damp, & the Mosquiters verry troublesome" Wm Clark</span></em>
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<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">June 21, 1804Two men sent out to hunt this evening brought in a buck and a por turkey." Wm ClarkJune 19, 1804" I observed on the shore Goose & Rasp berrries in abundance in passing some hard water round a point of rocks on the L.S. we were obliged to take out the roape & Draw up the Boat for 1/2 a mile, we came too on the L.S. near a lake of the sircumfrance of severla miles, situated on the L.S. about two miles from the river this lake is said to abound in all kinds of fowls, great numbers of deer frequent this lake dureing summer season, and feed on the bows" Lewis</span></em>
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<br /></span></em><strong>May 9th
<br /></strong>Under temperatures in the high 80's and 90% humidity I put my mind and body on autopilot as I glided downstream towards Glasgow, Mo. Sixty seven miles and 11 hours from my previous night's camp I limped into town about 6p.m. A very difficult day but one highlighted by two interesting encounters. As I paddled away from the sandbar I had spent the night on and staying fairlyclose to shore in the fast current, I spotted movement next to the waterline. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, casually walking along the rocks sniffing out signs of fresh deer was a mountain lion (sometimes called cougar or puma). I had no idea there were any in Missouri, and have never seen one in the wilds before. I steered my boat closer to shore trying not to make a sound. I was as close as 50 feet of the big cat without it ever knowing I was there until I drifted upwind where it picked up my scent. I had watched it for about 30 seconds wishing I could get my camera, but for fear my movement would shorten my sighting, I sat there motionless. Personally this animal is one of my favorites. I drifted past for several minutes before it sunk in what I had just seen. As I paddled mile after mile in the intense sun I was once again moving with the fast current within 20 feet of shore when suddenly I spotted another "cat'! This sighting dumbfounded me, not because it was my 2nd for the day but by its appearance. This large cat had big brown spots around its face and underside. It resembled a leopard in Africa. A few things instantly ran through my mind. "Is it a domestic cat? Do some mountain lions have spots? Was it a bobcat? Did a cat escape from a circus?" It was extremely large to be a domestic cat but the spots made me confused. It was the exact same shape as the one I saw earlier but about 20 pounds lighter.(The first was about the size of a large Labrador dog and the other a little lighter) It had short tight woven hair like a leopard (or mountain lion). I was only 30 feet from it and didn't move while the current carried me past this docile animal. When it finally saw me it sort of turned its body in a twisted form the way a dog does when you hit it with a newspaper. I could see its big brown eyes staring me in the face. I was close enough to both cats to easily see they had very long whiskers. It finally ran up the bank in cat like form disappearing over the top of the bank. When I got to Glasgow I inquired about "wild cats" in the area and several people mentioned they are often seen in the area I passed through. They also said the Missouri Fish and Game does not want to admit they exist in the state. I plan to look into this matter more especially regarding the spots.
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<br />The country in which I have been traveling through the last day was very abundant in wildlife for the members of the Corp of Discovery. Both deer and black bear were killed providing the members with plenty of meat. The tracks of the deer are by far more numerous today than an actual sighting. My camp in Glasgow is situated on <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_14/stump%20island%20petrified%20stumps.jpg"></a>Stump Island. Lewis and Clark mentioned this island in the journal and that there were many petrified stumps when they passed through in June of 1804. Many of the solid rock stumps are still visible and situated where the town has their soccer fields. I stood and watched young children kicking the soccer ball towards the defended net while wondering what Lewis and Clark thought of when seeing these ancient tree stumps turned to stone over time. I soon will be in Boonville having covered the first 800 miles of the Missouri River. There will be a slight delay in my updates while my friend Stan Hanson drives me back to Yankton, S.D. From there I will paddle up the remaining 1500 miles to Dillon, MT. Jamie Robinson with Corecomm who has been helpful in posting my information on the web site will be away for a few days towards the end of the week. I hope to send one brief update from Boonville and then continue again in about a week.<a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_14/cook%20kit%20and%20spares.jpg"></a> I'm looking forward to the Dakotas as well and my home state of Montana.
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<br /><strong>May 10th ,2004
<br /></strong>The old steel railroad bridge came into view as I approached Boonville, Mo. I have mixed feelings about completing the first 800 miles of the Mighty Missouri. Although I opted to paddle a portion of the river "downstream" for personal safety reasons, it was all very challenging. I have enjoyed the people I've met and the quaint towns I have visited but I am looking forward to reaching Montana by June. Life on the river can be very boring for most people. Sometimes each bend in the river looks like the previous one giving you the sense that you are staying in one place and not making any progress. Other times the heat and humidity drain you of energy and you find yourself actually nodding off to sleep. Then there are the wonderful people and towns along the way that distract you from the difficult moments. I have met many friendly and interesting people all from different backgrounds. While in Glasgow I met Dan Haskamp and Sam Audsley who treated me with southern hospitality. Sam has traveled many parts of the Lewis and Clark trail by canoe and hopes to venture to Montana for a journey through the Missouri Breaks National Monument later this summer. I always find there is a connection between people who travel by means of paddle power. There seems to be a sense of appreciation for the river and the current that carries you along. Even if you have only met the person for a short time you are able to connect by just talking about the river and paddling. I am sure that members of the Lewis and Clark expedition all shared this similar connection. Even through there were many different personalities and egos, they all shared the common bond of adventure and life on the river. Dan Haskamp is the owner of Main Street Automotive in the town of Glasgow. He comes from a large family of 10 kids and knows everyone in town. I can tell Dan has a deep desire to move west to the mountains while talking with him. He told me many stories about skiing, backpacking and paddling out west. Unfortunately Glasgow doesn't provide these same outdoor opportunities. I joined Dan one evening for dinner in Fayette about 20 miles away. It seemed strange to be moving so fast in his car after traveling not more than 6 mph for the last 7 weeks. The rolling countryside of Missouri had signs of freshly planted soybean crops. Rows of tilled dirt stretched out across the horizon. Glasgow has a long history dating back to Lewis and Clark and later to the Civil War. Union and Confederate troops fought it out along the hillsides of town and many homes received impacts of cannonballs. Dan says you can still see where many of the holes were blown into the sides of the homes. Of the 800 miles of river I have seen so far, Glasgow is the first place where I have seen information of a "River Clean-Up day". A yellow flyer appeared in the local drugstore asking for volunteers. They are hoping to get enough people to clean the garbage along the river before the Lewis and Clark Festival later in June. I hope other towns do the same although it would be nice if they all did it out of respect for the river and not just because a special event is approaching. Hopefully they continue this clean up program on a regular basis. I had a relaxing day in Glasgow having paddled everyday for the last 10 days. I enjoyed my day off. I departed town under a steady wind in hopes of making it to Boonville that afternoon. In many places along the river there was evidence of where the old river channel was before the Army Corp. Of Engineers created their own route for the river. The river seemed much more straight and wider than it does today.
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<br />As I approached Boonville, my old friends the Canadian Geese and Great Blue Heron greeted me with many flyovers. The loud honking by the geese brought me out of the heat induced trance I was in. I was very happy and relieved that I traveled from Yankton safely. Monday May 10th: Boonville Public Library. When I have the opportunity to access a public computer I'll try and use as much time to post an update. I don't have to worry about batteries on my computer or satellite phone going dead like I do when sending data from my various camps along the river. I did a brief radio interview for "Ted B" who is a local radio show host for an AM station. An approaching storm forced us to conduct the interview under the bridge over the river giving us a little shelter from the rain. My next updates will be from the Dakotas! This is where Lewis and Clark wintered in the year 1804-1805 living with the Mandan and Hidatsa Indians during a bitter cold winter. The treeless plains of the Dakotas w ill be a stark change compared to the lush green forest of Missouri, Nebraska, Iowa, and Kansas. The fact that there will be less humidity during the long summer days is something to look forward to. I can almost here and see the distant drum beats from the plains Indians, their beat in unison with each stroke of my paddle as I work my way north and west.
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<br />I will post a series of photo's to go along with this blog. Cheers!
<br />Norm
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<br />Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-77999375680471330152008-09-21T08:11:00.000-07:002008-09-21T09:51:39.886-07:00<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">Part 3: In the Wake of Discovery: <span style="font-size:130%;">Photos from previous blog , the first month of journey.</span></span> Photo descriptions at the bottom.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoe2xqfx-jcyOwVsLqw-jPZVPsBG64oX1Hw6JLVZ0Cyp3EYIb2VC2E70dfo-hM4ut937AuUkFCKglnKHAZTVSra8E6wiUqVzJp8co0Z2NB-9iHW2VrPtfambtWuCAMbeFzsy-_/s1600-h/DSCN0470.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248500179794373794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoe2xqfx-jcyOwVsLqw-jPZVPsBG64oX1Hw6JLVZ0Cyp3EYIb2VC2E70dfo-hM4ut937AuUkFCKglnKHAZTVSra8E6wiUqVzJp8co0Z2NB-9iHW2VrPtfambtWuCAMbeFzsy-_/s320/DSCN0470.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248503389425702754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hLnkGVTqHIAXPFW4SU9GgZx5xx0r_kjrt_rFEq9QuaE0NQtj9T6rvIePRzlzX2nPkpy07QNX79O0n6J3efeiV9-JxG7j_Mmu5XXOooM7Z9rfRt3kLQNaN_Bu6HeP3NdjtIKq/s400/blog+9.jpg" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8pvS14NngL9KSIsgI2kM7yeOr2w0D6Sz6z4QDxFW7xognvy8ZKIzoHo0NLdJh4_NIV1ubVA9ed6SYXjefoiwVlsFtLwMvEuljEo-nrFNgXI9a0fzGlJaNRqY6O5ieSw4UA6u/s1600-h/DSCN0413.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248500165569283922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8pvS14NngL9KSIsgI2kM7yeOr2w0D6Sz6z4QDxFW7xognvy8ZKIzoHo0NLdJh4_NIV1ubVA9ed6SYXjefoiwVlsFtLwMvEuljEo-nrFNgXI9a0fzGlJaNRqY6O5ieSw4UA6u/s320/DSCN0413.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyMVnpXUT6WWb2EC5gzFZgFUS02Itq3QZsUa6xc2ngls-5ihtyP1YFWV-YoIlU6Hgjr92Ekf1of112QNr4O-eM8idy4fp5njB_4G4RpZaCymcdLRFrOSVOnEGMz5NIp9cQlWS/s1600-h/DSCN0437.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDB1CCBU-T2nJLhdOypfPNXqgqkCzNQKp_ZzENbESpBHLIXfUzbiAYwXIHtooFhF74pVXGi8sDco6ehJCnG4L2uOa-inx-M7plSc_E2wnerNiAhLazFuoxFrkdjvl929VthqZ9/s1600-h/DSCN0443.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248500175212291618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDB1CCBU-T2nJLhdOypfPNXqgqkCzNQKp_ZzENbESpBHLIXfUzbiAYwXIHtooFhF74pVXGi8sDco6ehJCnG4L2uOa-inx-M7plSc_E2wnerNiAhLazFuoxFrkdjvl929VthqZ9/s320/DSCN0443.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRymdMysiVQll9jBtW5rA0EMP_JRa-du0f5o5MqB_GQiGzPlZopwi8dgpbWGOVTG0OSJcblhluD7XzdjRyyfv5rQhNDAEXu0_0P6VArmkbkQSWG1l4wVVCIxhxWa87XU-3Wz4/s1600-h/blog+6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248503376285847682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRymdMysiVQll9jBtW5rA0EMP_JRa-du0f5o5MqB_GQiGzPlZopwi8dgpbWGOVTG0OSJcblhluD7XzdjRyyfv5rQhNDAEXu0_0P6VArmkbkQSWG1l4wVVCIxhxWa87XU-3Wz4/s400/blog+6.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyMVnpXUT6WWb2EC5gzFZgFUS02Itq3QZsUa6xc2ngls-5ihtyP1YFWV-YoIlU6Hgjr92Ekf1of112QNr4O-eM8idy4fp5njB_4G4RpZaCymcdLRFrOSVOnEGMz5NIp9cQlWS/s1600-h/DSCN0437.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248500174449312434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLyMVnpXUT6WWb2EC5gzFZgFUS02Itq3QZsUa6xc2ngls-5ihtyP1YFWV-YoIlU6Hgjr92Ekf1of112QNr4O-eM8idy4fp5njB_4G4RpZaCymcdLRFrOSVOnEGMz5NIp9cQlWS/s320/DSCN0437.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEins0pJkhtEuj6_jpl7r65-_0_WsnpBYupMf516kEJKUTY2JT2uaZdE6LoeT0zVa3hqnTtJXEsA3Q5O5nOer3XBhkvqiBjkTqtjvLjkem6ZZsHluMrNzoHqZL4r2jxUnxdB0TN9/s1600-h/blog+8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248503386700473266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEins0pJkhtEuj6_jpl7r65-_0_WsnpBYupMf516kEJKUTY2JT2uaZdE6LoeT0zVa3hqnTtJXEsA3Q5O5nOer3XBhkvqiBjkTqtjvLjkem6ZZsHluMrNzoHqZL4r2jxUnxdB0TN9/s400/blog+8.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheAVuErMrSydfgj6bWglaWgzyL0lSiTowofxl3RY7tmoARuNEhanSBKc2zOeHDZ6u-_cYjTHz6_gFwBvx4I6SWIe93g8zbcAD6hXSO5uDjCDJNRl_o5O9UX6P6weleuAUSafJ2/s1600-h/blog+10.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248503391512987634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheAVuErMrSydfgj6bWglaWgzyL0lSiTowofxl3RY7tmoARuNEhanSBKc2zOeHDZ6u-_cYjTHz6_gFwBvx4I6SWIe93g8zbcAD6hXSO5uDjCDJNRl_o5O9UX6P6weleuAUSafJ2/s400/blog+10.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIr5Tlj3aWOUACg4WIIIsbmajwUDoQSrYvgmTIheZLl-7j4ellbha-LdY6F5WXJRHJr6csVxP8eokrx7PvDVFEUDecUwNSOIJLWgmTMRCPxjg4FntCW2EGrgXHGhCxmywKU85/s1600-h/blog2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248514917037331842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIr5Tlj3aWOUACg4WIIIsbmajwUDoQSrYvgmTIheZLl-7j4ellbha-LdY6F5WXJRHJr6csVxP8eokrx7PvDVFEUDecUwNSOIJLWgmTMRCPxjg4FntCW2EGrgXHGhCxmywKU85/s400/blog2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7K8ZWz5undUwEFbXgRaFm2NjSITNmaZAdR4DT8VZ4ZbfOO4hgSE417geAzeGfiJeapibgzw6axT7wfODDgrsz9ZXLVAM18TUxAdoIpRuUruTCA1A7NBB8spkSnvCcjbvXZjZ3/s1600-h/blog+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248514920901985858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7K8ZWz5undUwEFbXgRaFm2NjSITNmaZAdR4DT8VZ4ZbfOO4hgSE417geAzeGfiJeapibgzw6axT7wfODDgrsz9ZXLVAM18TUxAdoIpRuUruTCA1A7NBB8spkSnvCcjbvXZjZ3/s400/blog+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJP8cm75CBT_aTvuVxj4KVbm6PVmIn6bnQ3-FwI1DsajDKrTsvTAEcUJL0Qd9qGTNdBHrDgkO6SNdAdO_IbYH_-mWQzQIZLf2pvOXLIViiT9LhieQQfWrb-YYOV6fV2o1D_QXp/s1600-h/blog+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248514924168359522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJP8cm75CBT_aTvuVxj4KVbm6PVmIn6bnQ3-FwI1DsajDKrTsvTAEcUJL0Qd9qGTNdBHrDgkO6SNdAdO_IbYH_-mWQzQIZLf2pvOXLIViiT9LhieQQfWrb-YYOV6fV2o1D_QXp/s400/blog+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VTF7g9oiPPpoH8mgzmiMBOlNEuAzEHH__u104WCTe52HKlYqJnCU5IOw7s85DffiJQ3nAS35wwRo5Yr-SPCOTqJTqv4GMEccfIpEWPO803cWLsU4AY6N3jhfEaX_CGvCd6yf/s1600-h/blog+5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248514931669925410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VTF7g9oiPPpoH8mgzmiMBOlNEuAzEHH__u104WCTe52HKlYqJnCU5IOw7s85DffiJQ3nAS35wwRo5Yr-SPCOTqJTqv4GMEccfIpEWPO803cWLsU4AY6N3jhfEaX_CGvCd6yf/s400/blog+5.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-uPjj5IKtWl8LQ2z3qmMioE4wMMr5h_14ZJmM9IVsXRhago03rfbvFsYPKoXr6stO_t0XBbcRuGhyFk1C03iCnVkjwFTvdateRVDrhfm9EoFHvPCA8vrhM_OVVhOvN8smlKq/s1600-h/blog+7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248514936773134418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-uPjj5IKtWl8LQ2z3qmMioE4wMMr5h_14ZJmM9IVsXRhago03rfbvFsYPKoXr6stO_t0XBbcRuGhyFk1C03iCnVkjwFTvdateRVDrhfm9EoFHvPCA8vrhM_OVVhOvN8smlKq/s400/blog+7.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />1: Tavern Rock: Meriwether Lewis nearly fell to his death along this set of cliffs]<br /><br />2:Approaching storm near Sioux City Iowa.This particular storm broke the poles on my tent.<br /><br />3: Muddy boots along the river.<br /><br />4: Typical tree roots exposed along the river.<br /><br />5: Bridge at Boonville. The noise from the train kept me up all night long.<br /><br />6: Another approaching storm.<br /><br />7: Original river like it appeared for Lewis and Clark near present day Ponca State Park, Nb.<br /><br />8: Sgt. Floyds grave and marker. He was the only member of the orginal expedition to have died.<br /><br />9: Limestone cliffs along the Missouri near Herman.<br /><br />10: Disaster camp where I flipped my boat and lost a lot of food and gear. Here I'm drying everything out.<br /><br />11: The Riverman Dallas Kropp and his bait shop. Dallas let me camp in the basement of his shop and use it as a base camp for a day. Thanks Dallas!<br /><br />12/13: These last two photos are of a typical wing-dike. There is one every couple hundred feet for about 750 miles of the lower Missouri River.Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-83419363105564798802008-09-20T16:28:00.001-07:002008-09-21T16:37:20.584-07:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Part 2: In the Wake of Discovery: Up the Missouri River. Following the trail of Lewis and Clark in 2004.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-73vjN5v34falLTwh4osqaZ21GOHX8C4NOT6CmJ6SZ2XEIyNutyjCAoNx9KSGFCWCK2iCxLgSs32PR9_nHCw8wnVz9Nb9vrYvSKN7yS_peRwgvOA3VmjyPK-CGWgGD4UIHUVv/s1600-h/pelican+island+camp.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248267698452010162" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-73vjN5v34falLTwh4osqaZ21GOHX8C4NOT6CmJ6SZ2XEIyNutyjCAoNx9KSGFCWCK2iCxLgSs32PR9_nHCw8wnVz9Nb9vrYvSKN7yS_peRwgvOA3VmjyPK-CGWgGD4UIHUVv/s320/pelican+island+camp.jpg" border="0" /></a> Pelican Island before the rain.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-8EXTTzlgDronpBMAp07HclSyB5X7cbJZnwTf0J0d0egt3e00eif2AAUh2ugvR2kYNYrAUY8FuV9ve-22pMAJElWs4CxnLgqX_oWOaUFXnpoWaxwTZHwTBtgtHw-yoZXNEBJ/s1600-h/2nd+Post+-+Sunset+Pelican+Island.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248267697365470706" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-8EXTTzlgDronpBMAp07HclSyB5X7cbJZnwTf0J0d0egt3e00eif2AAUh2ugvR2kYNYrAUY8FuV9ve-22pMAJElWs4CxnLgqX_oWOaUFXnpoWaxwTZHwTBtgtHw-yoZXNEBJ/s320/2nd+Post+-+Sunset+Pelican+Island.jpg" border="0" /></a> Sunset on Pelican Island<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzMY0vpODw7jF_eQbHYhdP1HdXtzjKqkh7mepF0W54H9t7g6W9Vrz_d31VE4KIWJ80-XfKn5AOlQCj1qsSOrKEI0lVu2PSWUoacahc4_yAr7hVva_RPN8_W0z0XS3HwhAnHbZ/s1600-h/2nd+Post-+Wood+Choaked+river.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248267701147313186" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzMY0vpODw7jF_eQbHYhdP1HdXtzjKqkh7mepF0W54H9t7g6W9Vrz_d31VE4KIWJ80-XfKn5AOlQCj1qsSOrKEI0lVu2PSWUoacahc4_yAr7hVva_RPN8_W0z0XS3HwhAnHbZ/s320/2nd+Post-+Wood+Choaked+river.jpg" border="0" /></a> Wood choaked river.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9q9mesryZFUk7cm1-UIKVrsmwNXwmIsqVtYsr-yze0EmK4OtdWhqY9bpNBMN_N05oGanve2ptXP9UfI8NojHTuP4wVA1CmZx-glRt_PCJDG9EXDWdj52Ok8NmDvdpmlfS49y/s1600-h/chota+boots+in+mud.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248267704529769106" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn9q9mesryZFUk7cm1-UIKVrsmwNXwmIsqVtYsr-yze0EmK4OtdWhqY9bpNBMN_N05oGanve2ptXP9UfI8NojHTuP4wVA1CmZx-glRt_PCJDG9EXDWdj52Ok8NmDvdpmlfS49y/s320/chota+boots+in+mud.jpg" border="0" /></a> Camp along the river.<br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Departure:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"><strong>March 27th, 2004</strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></strong><br />Fatigue sums up my departure and first day on the river. Tired and wet from exertion I pulled my heavy laden boat to the shore of Cora Island. My excitement must have been similar to the members of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Having planned for so long, being on the water was a happy moment. Locating a launch spot proved to be quite the ordeal. The locations previously scouted out were soon discovered to be off limits or non accessible to the river. Worried about all the things I may have forgotten and tired from the long drive from Montana, I shoved off from the muddy boat ramp below the Alton dam on the Mississippi River. With many tears and hugs I said goodbye to my sister Gail, brother Bob, friend Stan Hanson, and my best friend DeeDee. With frequent glances over my shoulders, my friends and family got smaller and smaller until they were no longer in view. The bird life abounds among the tugs and wrecked barges that littered the shore <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/trip_departure/PANA0017.JPG"></a>. A sign on one barge reads "<em>Benzene-Cancer Causing</em>" while a large Great Blue Heron stands nearby staring as I pass. I watched several flocks of pelican fly high overhead and wondered if they would follow. Joining me for two days is my new friend Jamie Robinson <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/trip_departure/PANA0016.JPG"></a>who has offered his service by posting updates that I will send to his Lansing, Michigan <em>CoreComm</em> Office. We reached the mouth of the Missouri after an hour of paddling. The power of the river made itself known as each of my paddle strokes seemed of little use. Inch by inch we worked our way closer to shore where the calmer water lies, only to be confronted by large rock walls that extend out from shore about 100 feet into the river <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/trip_departure/DV20040325154305.jpg"></a>. At times I could paddle between low spots in the walls where the water passes over, other times I had to exit my boat grabbing tight the rope which connects me to it and pull the boat around the end of the wall through the strong current, repeating this about 10 minutes later. There are well over a thousand of these obstructions between here and South Dakota. I checked each one off from my mental list as well passed. The Army Corp of Engineers constructed these wing dams to control the rivers natural ability to carve out the surrounding landscapes.<br /><br />The river is totally different than the days when Lewis and Clark set out on May 14, 1804 loaded with over 15 tons of supplies. One thing still present 200 years later is the mud. Deep mud! Boot swallowing piles of goop<a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/trip_departure/PANA0009.JPG"></a>. If it wasn't for my knee high <em>Chota Mukluks</em> my shoes <a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/trip_departure/Departure%20Update%20Muddy%20Boots.jpg"></a>would either be caked in it or extracted from my feet from the suction created by the mud itself. After only one day on the river, I wonder if any of my clothing will last the journey. At night with the distant hum of St. Louis in the background, several coyotes yelp and bark while crickets chip excitedly from the nearby forest. A few turkeys gobble in the distance too.<br /><br /><strong>March 28-30, 2004<br /></strong><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update2/2nd%20Post%20-%20Cooking%20dinner%20between%20storms.jpg"></a><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update2/2nd%20Post%20-%20Sunset%20Pelican%20Island.jpg"></a><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update2/2nd%20Post-%20Wood%20Choaked%20river.jpg"></a><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update2/2nd%20Post%20%20Carbonneir%20Hill.jpg"></a><br />The Last few days have been a struggle, both mentally and physically. Due to constant rain I camped on Pelican Island and remained tent bound since this was the only place that was dry for miles around. I lost 2 1/2 days of paddling which has set me back. There was so much rain that the river swelled about 2 1/2 feet in depth causing my sand bar in which I was camped to become smaller each hour. Had the rain continued another day or so I would have had water lapping at my tent door. The added water to the river helps out in some ways. Many of the wing dams are totally submerged allowing me to paddle over the tops of the rock walls near shore. A few times I have had to climb out of my canoe and drag my heavy laden boat over the top of the rocks. This is extremely tiring as it is difficult to get a good foot hold as well as a good hand hold onto my boat. The high water has also brought with it more debris including sticks, logs and large trees floating downstream toward the Mississippi. Since I typically paddle within 20 feet of shore, most of the slack water is filled with tons of floating wood which I plow my way through. At one point near St. Charles I became totally entangled in floating swirling wood. I was unable to paddle through it and had to wait until the current which was swirling me and the wood in a circular motion around and around was close enough to shore to get out onto a large tree; and with a huge effort pull my boat up onto the tree and over into the less cluttered channel. This all took close to 40 minutes to accomplish.<br /><br />I arrived at St. Charles late in the afternoon. This was where Wm. Clark arrived with the men and boats and waited for Lewis to return from St. Louis on business matters. They stayed here several days before heading up the Missouri. The town at that time was a French and Indian town of a few hundred people. I was greeted at the boat ramp by Tim Elfers who was conducting a survey for the Park and Recreation department on river usage. He was surprised when I told him my intentions of paddling to the Pacific. Very few people travel upstream let alone all the way to the Pacific. He was kind enough to give me a cold bottle of water which I drank in under a minute. I inquired about the local area in regards to camping and stores. Several motor boaters were trying to get their boats out of the water at the ramp but were blocked off from doing so by the large trees which had floated in the way. They eventually tied a rope around the biggest tree and pulled it out into the river using their boats, allowing better access to the ramp. Another local man named Jim Chapman offered to drive me to the store where I was able to pick up a few supplies of food. I had a difficult time walking around the store from fatigue and lack of mental focus. Only minutes before I had been paddling into a strong steady headwind reading the current and now I was walking through a grocery isle pushing a metal cart. I managed to set up my camp in a wooded area right in town for the night. I was told another storm was fast approaching which upset me even more. Not only is breaking down camp in the rain difficult but even more challenging is posting these updates. I need clear skies for my satellite phone to send data and also to use my solar panels to recharge my batteries on this laptop. I have yet to have a clear day. The rain began to fall faster and faster while the river gets higher and higher. (Note: I carried a laptop computer, solar recharge panels, and a satilitte phone which I had originally set these updates to be posted on my website.)<br /><br />(Post trip note: The first few days were very humbling. The weather was terrible, the water was getting higher and higher and the wing-dikes were the most challenging part of the whole journey. It took me about a week to begin to realize that this was going to be more of a mental journey than a physical one. I was beating myself up with self doubt and the fact I moved along at a snails pace was very challenging.)<br /><br />Below are a few quotes from the journals of Lewis and Clark. I've added the journals that pertain to the same areas I was paddling through at the time in order to give you a comparison of thoughts. Both Clark and Lewis were poor spellers as indicated by the grammar errors in their journals which I have included here.<br /><br /><em>May 13, 1804 " I dispatched an express this morning to Cap. Lewis at St. Louis , all our provisions Goods and equipage on Board of a Boat of 22 oars, a large Perogue of 71 oares a Second Perogue of 6 oars, Complete with Sails &c. Men compd. With Powder Cartirgaies and 100 balls each, all in health and rediness to set out. Boats and everything Complete, with the necessary stores of provisions & such articles of merchandize as we thought ourselves authorised to procure- tho' not as much as I think ness. For the multitude of Inds thro which we must pass on our road across the Continent &c." Wm Clark (Day before departure from Camp River Dubois)</em><br /><em>May 14, 1804 "I Ser out at 4 oClcok P.M, in the presence of many of the neighboring inhabitents, and proceeded on under a jentle brease up the Missourie to the upper Point of the 1st Island 4 Miles and camped on the Island..." Wm Clark (Departure day)</em><br /><br /><br />Numerous deer tracks lined the muddy shore as I climbed from my boat to seek another camping location for the evening. I wonder if the deer that made them are the descendants of those traded with Lewis and Clark by the Kickapoo Indians in May of 1804. The Indians had given the Corp several deer in return for quarts of whiskey( The start of the U.S Governement creating a social and health problem for the Indians). I found a nice camp in the general location of where they camped. As I write these words a coyote is once again yelping in the woods not more than a couple hundred yards away. It is the only sound other than the distant traffic from the nearby highway that I hear. Tired, warm and relaxed I feel as if am finally getting into a routine of setting up camp and cooking dinner without taking such a long time. The Corp of Discovery had close to forty men and the duties were divided up as far as hunting, food prep etc. I have to do everything which often involves several hours of my time. My boat is so tightly packed it takes me 15 minutes to remove my gear and climb the muddy bank to a level spot.<br /><br />Everything in the nearby forest is damp and wet.<br />The leaves from the previous fall are slowly decomposing as the new growth begins to sprout through the underbrush. The colors of my surrounding environment give the area the appeance of an old faded photograph - mostly blacks, whites and greys. Where are the blues, reds, yellows, oranges, tans, and greens? I enjoyed my short visit to the town of St. Charles. The brick streets and old colonial buildings reminded me of my visit to Nantucket Island several years ago. Almost every building had an historic plaque depicting its place in the town's rich history. One such marker I read was once the Dr's. office which supplied the Lewis and Clark party with Castor Oil for their long journey. The members of that expedition would eat on average 9 pounds of meat per day per person. Not the healthiest of diets that's for sure. I walked by the old train depot and noticed a dozen people were inside sewing 1800's period clothing. They are supplying the Bicentennial re-enactors with clothing for the upcoming departure which will last until 2006. A short stocky man with the look of someone born 200 years too late and wearing clothing of that era showed me some of the patterns that were used to design and make the cloths. His name is Bob Anderson and I had met him a few days before my departure at Wood River where he was camped at historic Camp Dubois. Bob is a first descendant of George Shannon one of the original members of the Corp. He will be traveling with them as they retrace the exact timeline of the original expedition over the next couple of years. I was very envious of his plans to do this journey this way, although wearing clothing of that time period would get very uncomfortable especially on long rainy days without modern rain gear.<br /><br />The morning I left St. Charles I had two policemen going through my boat down by the river. I guess someone had spotted a body drowned in the river upstream from my boat and thought it might be me. They were relieved that I was ok and apologized for having to go through my gear. What took me two hours to neatly pack, I had to spend another 1/2 hour putting it all back in. There is so much floating debris in the river that could easily be mistaken for a dead body. Several dead deer carcass float past me bloated like a ballon and smelling repulsive. It's sad to see so much garbage in the river. Since my departure I have easily seen over 10,000 plastic bottles, paint cans, oil cans, refrigerators, a plastic Rudolph, Basketballs, baseballs, tires, the bright orange and blue Proctor and Gamble Tide bottles, and even an entire car. Aside from this ugliness, I have witnessed several Beaver running towards the water as I approach and making a big splash upon entering. This animal's fur was once as valuable as gold in the 17-1800's which was made into hats. Every bend usually has a Great Blue Heron standing as if on guard of the river ahead. Such a beautiful bird that when it flies its neck reminds me of the curved pipe under a kitchen sink. I paddled by a small island that had about 20 Herons nesting high atop the trees. The nests appeared to be half the size of the bird and most birds were standing in the nest and looking down as I paddled by. I had always thought that they nested on the ground like many other water birds. My coyote friend has left and taken in its place are hundred of crickets with their hypnotic repetitive chirping. To me this usually is a sign of a good nights sleep. My progress upstream has been much slower than I had hoped. Although when I do paddle I manage to paddle the rate I had anticipated which is between 1.8 and 2.8 mph. On average I paddle two miles per hour. The problem so far has been that it has rained almost everyday and I try to avoid taking down my camp in the rain. I have been allowing it to dry in the sun so that I don't have to set it up at the end of the day already wet. Even though I am behind now, I know that I will make up for it once I reach the areas above the dams which I can easily travel between 20-40 miles a day. I also don't want to over do it this early in the journey to help avoid any injury. I have been feeling great despite fighting a current that I have been told is between 10-14 miles per hour.<br /><br /><em>May 23, 1804 " we passed a large Cave on the Lbd. Side called by the french the Tavern- about 120 feet wide 40 feet Deep & 20 feet high many different immages are Painted on the Rocks at this place the Inds. & French pay omage. Wm. Clark (Site of Tavern Rock- Defiance, MO) May 25, 1804 "Camped at the mouth fo a Creek called River a Chouritte above a Small frnech Village of 7 houses and as many families…" Wm. Clark (Near Marthasville, MO) May 27, 1804 "…passed a creek on the Lbd. Side called ash Creek 20 yds. Wide, passed the upper point of a large Island on the Sbd. Side back of which comes in three creeks one Called Otter Creek, here the man we left hunting came in we camped on a Willow Island in the mouth of Gasconnade River George Shannon killed a Deer this evening." Wm Clark (Present day Gasconade, MO)<br /></em><br />I arrived at Tavern Rock the last day of March just as the sun finally made its presence for the day. It had rained most of the day. The sight of this 300-foot bluff is a beautiful contrast to the rather flat landscape of the Missouri flood plain. At the base of the cliff runs the Union Pacific Railroad, which has been in close proximity to every place I have camped for the last few days. I stepped off the tracks and down in the brush when I could here the fast pace of the train approaching me. The rumble starts off like an earthquake and increases in intensity until the iron horse speeds by. I walked about a mile down the tracks through the forest just below the large cliffs where the Lewis and Clark party stopped as did other traders and explorers in the 17 and 1800's. The sunlight peeking through the small green leaves starting to bud out on each tree. The green appearance is much appreciated.<br /><br />I was awakened about every hour through the night as another train raced down the track. The last several days have been getting more challenging both physically and mentally. Since the rain stopped about a week ago the river has dropped nearly 4 feet exposing more of the wing dikes. The river is expected to drop another foot tonight as well. What is required to get around the wing dikes is a burst of forward speed as you approach the rocky (sometimes log) edge where the fast current rushes, and with a lot of luck and skill (more luck than skill), I am catapulted around them as I ride my boat on the forward wake. With the water being low they have the appearance of small sets of rapids which you have to make sure you don't get stuck on a rock that waits just under the surface, because it can cause you a lot of problems trying to get off. There is nothing more dangerous than high centering your boat against an opposing current.<br /><br />I managed to paddle 17 miles one day, which is the most so far. I had hoped to camp at the town of Washington, MO because my map listed a camping place at the supposed "dock". After arriving near sunset I found there was no camping to be had. I paddled a mile up river to where Johns Creek (La Poceau River in the L&C Journals) emptied in. There was no good place to climb out of my boat. It was once again about 18 inches of mud. My mud boots are 19 inches high. I think you get the picture. One needs to slowly pull your foot out or your foot will come out of the boot which which is encased in the mud by the suction from the mud. I had to literally hold onto the top my boot while I lifted my foot from the mud for each step. This process can take several minutes just to reach dry land. After struggling for an hour I had a descent camp set up and a well deserved dinner cooking on the stove. Imagine the L&C Expedition dealing with the mud. They didn't have high-tech rubber boots that could easily be washed free of mud. In fact by 1805 many member of the expedition had to make moccisains out of elk leather because their boots rotted away from constantly being wet.<br /><br /><strong>Post trip update</strong>: <strong><em>Near Disaster</em></strong>: ( An incident occurred which nearly ended my trip and possibly my life. I never told anyone about this until my journey was over months later. I did'nt want them to worry about the rest of my trip. During this time I capsized and flipped trying to get around a wing dike. There was a narrow gap between the walls of the dike and I attempted to sprint through the rushing current. Just as I was about 1/2 way though with my canoe, I high-centered on a submerged log. Within seconds the canoe turned over and I was ejected out of the canoe by the fast water. Thankfully I was wearing my lifejacket which helped in my ability to stay afloat and allowed me to reach my now submerged canoe. I climbed onto the hull of the canoe which was now sticking up in the air. I attempted to pull the boat right-side-up but the current was too strong. I then climbed onto the piles of logs that were caught on the wing-dike. By now the only part of my canoe that was visable about the water was about 1 foot of the bow, the rest was completely submerged and getting pushed down by the strong force of the water against the rock wall of the dike. I quickly responded by grabbing the bow line and tied it off to one of the huge logs this kept the water from pushing my boat up and under the debris and completely destroying my canoe and dreams. I stood there in disbelief as I watched my equipment being washed downstream into the eddie below. I grabbed a large driftwood log and used it to pry my canoe out away from the wing dike. I jammed the log down into the murky water between my boat and the rocky dike and pryed with all my might hoping that it would get ejected out from the dike. To my amazement it worked. It still floated even though completely filled with water. The canoe drifted behind the wing dike where I jumped in as if it were a bath tub filled to the rim and bailed it out using a small pail. After several minutes I was able to paddle around in the eddie and collected the things that were floating around in the debris and sludge of the muddy river. My camera case, maps, raingear, and other important things were found undamaged. I did however lose my movie camera, GPS, some food, a knife and a few other minor things. It was amazing that I didn't lose more. Everything was wet even though it was packed in drybags. I imeadiately paddled to shore where I set up a cloths line and laid everything out in the warm sun. My maps were soaked but salvagable. It took all day and part of the next day to dry most of my things. I reluctantly set out on the river the next day with a horrible sick feeling in my stomach and dreading every wing-dike I encountered. This was the desciding factor in paddling "downstream" the last section of the remaining "wing-diked" river to avoid this again. A day or so later I nearly flipped again when my canoe high centered on another object. Thankfully I was able to free it in time. )<br /><br />Each morning I wake to find the river a little lower and more wing dikes exposed. I have decided to get rid of a few items I'm carrying to help save on weight as well as space in my boat. I plan on sending them tomorrow from Herman, MO which is a beautiful Norman Rockwell sort of town. Settled by Germans in the 1800's it has a rich river history. After trying to pull my canoe around a wing dike only 400 yards from the town dock, I was defeated by the strong current. I tried to pull my heavy laden canoe through the opposing current but it was just too much to handle and I felt as if one slip and my load would capsize in the strong current. I then had to paddle across the river and up the other shoreline which seemed a little calmer and with just one exposed wing dike to climb over. Once that was accomplished with great effort, I paddled back across the river just above the wing dike that defeated me half an hour before. I was greeted at the ramp by an elderly man named Dallas Kropp who let me camp at his bait shop right at the rivers edge. This was a great opportunity even though I would be 30 feet from the railroad tracks. It should be a peaceful nights sleep. WRONG! The trains rocked the small building Dallas let me sleep in and caused me to wonder if it would collapse.<br /><br /><strong>April 5-8, 2004<br /></strong>I reached Chamois, Mo after several long hot days of humid weather. My stay in Herman was a nice change of pace from life on the river. Since the water levels have dropped considerably, it is important to have less weight to pull around the challenging wing dikes. The more weight I carry, the more the canoe sinks in the water and thus increase the chances of it lodging on a submerged log or rock. I was also able to do some laundry while in Herman. Once laundry was completed I walked around town which is an historic German village.<br /><br />Dallas Kropp who owned the fishing shack where I stayed last night was very helpful and let me use his place as a base camp and watched my boat and gear while I ran errands. The sign on his door reads; <em>"Wanted- Woman who can cook, clean, sew, dig worms and clean fish, must have own boat and motor. Please send photo of boat and motor."</em> The shop has a dozen or more flags flying along with as many wind chimes blowing in the breeze from the river. Unfortunatly they didn't drown out the sound of the train which passed about 30 feet from his door. I left Herman monday afternoon and made it 7 miles to the Gasconade River where Lewis and Clark camped near its mouth. This river flows in from the south and is heavily used by local fisherman trying to catch a 70-80 pound Blue or Buffalo fish. I talked with a local man named Cecil for a long time about the fishing, river, and the town which seems to have been deserted over the last decade or two. He said the econmy was tough in the area and most of the people have left. He wished me luck on my journey and departed. The wing dikes are very problematic now that the water has dropped again. I can no longer sneak close against the shore around them but now must paddle out into the heavy current and make an attempt around them at the most dangerous part.<br /><br />I had to pull my boat over a few yesterday causing me to pull a muscle in my back or put a rib out of place in the process. Its hard to paddle under this pain and it even hurts to pull my sleeping bag out of its stuff sack. I have been pondering the question of this potential danger and if it continues I may paddle the remaining section of wing dikes downstream from Gavins Point Dam in South Dakota to wherever I leave off ( about 450-miles of river). By paddling downstream I will eliminate about 2000 wing dikes that I would otherwise have to negotiate. I will be able to stay in the main channel and current and not have to hug the shore to avoid them. I hope this does not have to happen but it is a serious issue I must look into. The wing dikes are spaced about one every 200 feet or so depending on what side of the river I am on. I dread each and every one. Lewis and Clark along with there three boats did not have to worry about wing dikes since there were none. The river in 1804 was much wider and at times very shallow since it was not channelized like it is today. The Corp of Discovery did have to load their boats so most of the weight was in the front to avoid high centering on a submerged log just like I have to do. They ran aground on many sand bars and logs and had to pull the heavy boats off of each one. This was very laborous work. Today, the Missouri is much narrower and channelized which causes the current to be twice as fast as the days of Lewis and Clark. This faster current helps to flush out debris and sand from accumulating in the cannel.<br /><br />I've had a few tech problems trying to send photos, sorry there is not as many for a while. Sending photos takes almost the entire batterys life and unfortunately I only have three batteries. I have not had the opportunity to use my solar panels from <em>Iowa Thin Films</em> because I have been trying to put some miles behind me while the sun and weather are still nice. In order for me to charge my batteries, I need to be on shore and thus not be paddling.<br /><br /><strong>April 9th and 10th Norm's Journal Entry</strong><br /><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_7/Near%20Booneville.jpg"></a><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/update_7/WIng%20Dam.jpg"></a><br />I am writing this from a sand bar upstream from Jefferson City, Mo. The dome lights of the capital building are shining giving the entire surroundings an usual feeling. More city life than a typical wilderness experience in some sense. I usually paddle within a boats length from shore as this is where the slowest current is and it sometimes flows slightly upstream depending on how the river bank has been carved by the current. Man has certainly tried to tame this river by putting levies and wing dikes. When we try to tame the river it becomes something that it is not. It is very unpredictable with huge boils(whirlpools) and weird currents coming in from many directions. The north side of the river is heavily busy with barge traffic as I approached Jefferson City, so I managed to stay close to the south side next to the walls of the state prison. I wondered if the guard in the tower thought I was helping in an escape. A I paddled close to the barbed wire fence of the prison, I could see the armed guard glaring at me through tinted sunglasses while his fingers hugged the trigger of his machine gun. I tied up at an old boat ramp which looked like it had not been used this season since it was full of logs and debris from the high water and there were no foot prints in the fresh mud.<br /><br />I walked a short ways into town in search for some clean drinking water which I found at the library about a block from the river. It is very helpful to have clean drinking water instead of trying to filter the heavily silted and polluted waters of the Missouri. It is hard for me to drink any water when I see oil cans, anti freeze containers, and other debris floating in the river. There doesn't seem to be much respect for the river and many of the people I have talked to have called it a sewage canal instead of a river. Garbage litters the shores all along this part of the river. Styrofoam cups, tires, water heaters, plastic toys, oil containers, baby strollers, television sets, diapers, Evian water bottles by the thousands, dead deer, whiskey bottles, plastic baseball bats, gas cans and more add color to the rather colorless landscapes. A bright orange TIDE laundry bottle gives me something to focus on as I slowly approach it at a very slow rate. The miles sometimes feel like hours as I pass one wing dam after another, they are placed in the river about every 200 feet all the way to Gavins Point Dam in South Dakota. Above the dam there are no more of these structures. I have decided to paddle the last 450 miles of wing dams downstream in order to be able to stay directly in the channel. When I reach Boonville, I w ill try and locate a means of transporting myself, boat and equipment to Gavins Point Dam South Dakota and then paddle all the way back to Boonville. Once I reach Booneville again, I will once again need to be transported back to Gavins Point Dam in order to continue up the Missouri to Montana. This has been a hard decision to make but one I feel is not only smart but less stressful knowing the possible outcome in trying to get around each one. I will probably regret it down the road. If I should happen to flip crossing over a wing dam I would lose my boat and the means to record this journey. It may take a day or two to locate transportation. I may even have to rent a car to haul my equipment to Gavins Point Dam. Since this will be a difficult logistic challenge I may be out of contact with updates for several day.<br />(Post trip comment: I still have a little regret not continueing upstream this 450-mile section however I do need to remember that the journey was not only about <em>me</em> but also about those who were following me on the Internet. I thus felt it was a safe descision to continue and still be able to describe the 200 years of changes along the river, and also allow me to stay ahead of my 6-month time frame. I had lost over 5 days of time due to weather and still had a long ways to go.)<br /><br />As of this morning (April 13) I am camped near where the I-70 bridge crosses the Missouri river. Yesterday was extremely difficult; I had 20-30mph headwinds which slowed my progress down considerable. The wind was a constant factor in the progress of Lewis and Clark as well. Since the river was much wider, shallower, and exposed to more sandbars in 1804 they were often pushed into sand bars trying to fight the ever present wind. I managed to paddle about 11 miles in 9 hours of paddling yesterday, and could have easily fallen asleep once I set up camp due to fatigue, but I had to prepare food and organize for my push to Boonville on Tuesday. A person can easily walk faster on shore than I managed to paddle. This has been very taxing on my mental spirts. Its difficult wanting to continue when you can see where you will be four hours from now. Inch by inch, its a cinch. Yard by yard its real hard. It is important for me to maintain a positive one stroke at a time pace is all that is important mindset.<br /><br /><strong>April 13-17, 2004</strong><br /><a href="http://www.lewisandclark-2004.com/images/april14/april14BoonvilleMO.jpg"></a><br />Wed- April 14th Boonville, MO- I arrived here Tuesday afternoon after paddling about 13 long miles into a strong head wind. The wind would be even more difficult for a small craft such as mine except that I have a foot-controlled rudder which helps me keep a straight course. Without the rudder, I would be spending more time and energy trying to keep my boat going straight. The weather controls river travel more than anything else. The Corp. of Discovery encountered many days where they could not proceed due to high winds. They also had to negotiate more sand bars compared to the present river. I encountered a few in which I had to change course in order to find deeper water. I only need about 4 inches for my boat to float, but need at least a foot in depth to get a good hold with my paddle blade. The Corp. of Discovery at this point in their journey had a large 55 foot keel boat and two smaller perouges which needed more water depth than I to proceed up the river. It was much easier for them to see the sand bars since their boats stood much taller out of the water allowing them to see ahead for any obstacles which could easly cause them to be grounded. When paddling my Kruger Sea Wind, I sit fairly low in the water where it is much more difficult to see ahead. Several members of the <em>Missouri Fish & Game Dept</em>. were shocking fish along the section of the river I paddled yesterday. Unfortunately I didn't ask more about their research but it had something to do with monitoring the effects of sediments on the fish. They seemed to be enjoying their work while spending the bright sunny day along the river.<br /><br />I encountered several large barges all heading down river. They create a good size wake. I usually pull by boat in behind a wing dike for at least several minutes until the water is calm enough to proceed. The speed and power of the tugs pushing the barges is very impressive. The ones I have seen were much bigger than a football field. After a few minutes they disappear out of sight around the next bend. Once again I have the river all to myself. It was near Boonville, MO that the Corp. of Discovery encountered there first signs of Buffalo. The closest wild buffalo found today is 1500 miles further west in Yellowstone National Park. In only 200 years we have slaughtered millions of these docile animals. The buffalo was and still is a scared symbol for the Native Nations especially those of the great plain regions which was the main territory of these animals. The land traveled by Lewis and Clark was called Louisiana Territory having recently been purchased by the U.S. from Napoleon for only 15 million dollars. What a deal! I can just imagine the members of the expedition seeing new animals and plants that they have never seen before. It must have been a really exciting thing for them as new things unfolded before them each day. I wish I could have been their with them.<br /><br />Logistics planning is much quicker than the days of Lewis and Clark. As I mentioned in my last post, I will be paddling downstream the last 450+ miles of the Missouri to avoid the danger of the wing dikes. Thanks to my great brother Bob for offering to drive all the way here from Ishpeming, Michigan to help me shuttle my gear to Yankton South Dakota. There are a few benefits of paddling this section of the Missouri downstream. By having more time each day will allow me to stop to explore more of the lands visited by Lewis and Clark. Once I reach Boonville again in mid May I will need transportation back to Yankton for the final 1500 miles of upstream travel on the river. I moved my camp and boat closer to town today with permission from a local shipping company who have let me store my boat for the night. Without the use of my Globalstar Satellite Phone for voice communications with the more than 2 dozen phone calls today I would probably have not accomplished as much as I did today. As far as my data and updates with the website, I use an Iridium phone from Telestial. Both have worked great and regular phone calls to family (DeeDee) has lessened their worry as to my safety. Boonville is a town of about eight thousand people. The part of town closest to the river is the historic district while the new part of town is a few miles out near the highway. The people I have met have been really friendly and helpful, all seem curious about my journey and perplexed why I would want to paddle upstream. I often ask that same question on a daily basis. I am also supprised by the locals who have no clue that the Lewis and Clark passed by or that they went upstream! It amazes me how few people know the history of their own region.<br /><br />I had a brief conversation with a nice elderly couple. We both had to yell out to be heard. They were walking across the bridge above where I was unloading my boat below. With the stiff wind blowing we had to yell to be heard. From what I could make out she said her son kayaks, but mainly white water in Colorado and Southern Missouri. I'm sure they were curious about my boat since Boonville doesn't seem to have a lot of canoe or kayak visitors.<br /><br /><em>Aug 24th, 1804 "...in an emence Plain a high hill is situated, and appears of a Conic form, and by the different nations of Indians in this quarter is suppose to be the residence of Deavels. That they are in human form with remarkable large heads, and about 18 inches high, that they are very watchful and are arm'd with Sharp arrows with which they can kill at a great distance; they are said to kill all persons wha are So hardy as to attempt to approach the hill...;" Wm Clark ( Seven miles west of Vermillion S.D)</em><br /><em>Aug 25th, 1804 " from the top of this Mound we beheld a most butifull landscape: Numberous herds of buffalow were seen feeding in various directions: the Plain to North N.W. & N.E. extends without interuption as far as can be seen. Wm Clark</em><br /><em>Aug 27th, 1804 "At 2 oclock passed the Mouth of River Jaque one Indian at the mouth of this river swam to the Perogue, we landed and two others Came to us, those Inds. Informed that a large Camp of Soues , were on the R. Jaque near the mouth." Wm Clark (James River-Near Yankton S.D.)</em><br /><em>Aug 30th 1804 "a verry thick fog this morning after Prepareing some presents for the Cheifs which we intend to make by giving Meadels, and finsihing a Speech which we intended to give them...;" Wm Clark (Vicinity of Gavin Point Dam) </em><br /><p><em></em></p><p><strong>Tuesday April 20th:</strong> Severe lighting and rain. Tent bound. The last five days have been such a whirlwind of activity. I have now been transported up the Missouri to South Dakota from where I will paddle back to Boonville. I spent my last few hours in Boonville exploring the old historic buildings including the jail which once held Frank and Jesse James. I strolled to the top of several Indian burial mounds high atop the hill overlooking the river valley. From the wind swept mounds one can see for over 30 miles to the northwest. It's a wonderful place to be buried and very sacred to the Native people. The mounds sit well over 200 feet above the river never to be reached by the flooding waters. </p><p>I had a wonderful lunch while waiting for my brother at Taylors Bakery and Coffee Shop. Dawn Taylor and her mother in-law Phyllis were very busy making flavorful baked goods. They made me a tasty lunch and a hot cup of coffee. Having cooked over a one burner stove for the last few weeks it was nice to sit down and not have to prepare any food. My brother Bob drove down from Michigan to offer his support in the matter. We spent over an hour securing the boat to the roof of his van before heading north to Gavins Point Dam in Yankton, South Dakota. The landscape here in South Dakota is much more open, with large vistas, colorful yellow and orange rocky shores, blue green water void of garbage like that of the lower Missouri. Lewis and Clark were in a land totally foreign to them. Buffalo, elk, and deer were hunted here and supplied the members with fresh meat. The land was also home to the Yankton Sioux who had lived here for a long time. <strong>April 18th-</strong> The small sandbar was barely enough shelter from the fast approaching cold front. I had just enough time to set up my tent when the wind gusted to well over 50 mph. Three ropes held my boat in place while I sought shelter within the tent. Without leaning against the tent wall the wind would have easily broken the tent poles. After an hour of listening to the flapping nylon fabric the wind suddenly abated. The water became as smooth as glass and as I looked to the east where the storm clouds went I expected to see a funnel cloud in the distance. I had left Gavins Point Dam earlier that day near the Calumet Bluffs where the Corp of Discovery stayed on August 28-31st and met with council with members of the Yankton Sioux. The river below Yankton is very wide and braided with numerous sandbars. Finding the deepest channel was the most challenging. In several places I ran aground and had to exit my boat and pull her to deeper water only to repeat this again a few hundred yards later. To anyone on shore it must have appeared as if I was walking on water for I was standing in the middle of a ½ mile wide river in 2 inches of water. White chalky bluffs aligned the fast flowing river in many places giving a more picturesque view of a flat Dakota prairie. I paddled close to 50 miles to Ponca State Park on the Nebraska side of the river late last evening. The days travel was void of people, motor boats, and trains with only the sounds of honking geese and Least Terns and a few Piping Plover which nest along the sand bars. This land was where the Corp killed their first buffalo. The meat being salted to help it from spoilage. It was here too that the Captains ordered a vote among the men for a new sergeant to replace Charles Floyd who had died just days before from a ruptured appendicts. Patrick Gass received the most votes with 19 making him the new replacement. I am sure the men were very somber the days following Floyds death just as the river was for me except for the bird life. I hope to make it to Sioux City tomorrow and pay Floyds grave a visit. </p><p><br /><em>Aug 13, 1804"&...we formed a camp on a sand bar on the L.S. & detached Srg. Ordeway, Peter Crusatt, George Shannon, Werner & Carrn to the Mahar Village with a flag & some tobacco to envite the nation to see talk with us on tomorrow..." M. Lewis (Near present day Sioux City, Iowa)Aug 18th, 1804 "...Cap L. Birth day the evening was closed with an extra gill of whiskey and a dance untill 11 oclock" Wm. Clark</em></p><p><em>Aug 18, 1804 "our men Returnd and Brot with them the man and Brot with them the Grand Chief of the ottoes and 2 Loer ones and 6 others of thare nation." Sgt. Charles Floyd (Last journal entry of Floyd before his death)</em></p><p><em>Aug 19th, 1804 "Serjeant Floyd is taken verry bad all at once with a Biliose Chorlick we attempt to relieve him without success as yet, he gets worst and we are much allarmed at his situation, all give attention to him." Wm Clark</em></p><p><em>Aug 20th, 1804 "Passed two islands on the S.S. and at the first Bluff on the S. S. Serj. Floyd Died with a great deal of composure, before his death he said to me, 'I am going away, I want you to write me a letter.' We buried him on the top of the bluff 1/2 mile below a small river to which we gave his name, he was buried with the Honors or War much lamented, a seeder post with the Name Serg. C. Floyd died here 20th of august 1804 was fixed at the head of his grave. This man at all times gave us proff of his firmness and determined reolution to doe dervice to his Countrey and honor to himself after paying all the honor to our Decesed brother we camped in the mouth of floyds River about 30 yards wide, a butiful evening." Wm. Clark</em></p><p><em><br /></em><strong>April 22-25, 2004<br /></strong>The 100 foot obelisk monument stands proud overlooking the Missouri River and the busy interstate highway. It was here on Aug 20, 1804 that Corp. member Charles Floyd died from an appendicitis. As I stood looking across the valley shrouded with gray clouds I could almost hear and see the burial service given to him by fellow expedition members. With full military honors he was placed in a shallow grave high on the bluff, becoming the first U.S. military man to die west of the Mississippi River. It was to be my moment alone with Floyd. The monument empty with people stood silent with the nearby highway buzzed with traffic. I arrived at Sioux City on Wednesday the 22nd about an hour before a horrible storm which brought high winds, hail and two inches of rain which found a resting place on the floor of my tent. In the 30 minutes I was using the showers at the Scenic Park Campground the wind blew my rain fly off my tent and forced water through the meshed screen ceiling. Had it not been for me leaving most of my belongings in their protective bags, everything would have been soaked. I sponged most of the water out of the tent and dried it with my towel I had used during my hot shower. Since my arrival I have been treated well by the friendly staff at the campground. Jim Steele, the aquatics director for the recreation dept. treated me to lunch and was kind enough to drive me to the Lewis and Clark Center where Dr. Sharon Ocker welcomed me and later drove me to Floyds monument. When not singing in the barbershop quartets, Sharon is often discussing topics on history of the area to local people and visitors at the Center. I feel the same friendship and generosity of the Indian people Lewis and Clark met here has carried over two centuries later.</p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em></em>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-82502665315408167882008-09-20T15:51:00.000-07:002008-09-20T16:27:45.582-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgGFRJImAIFmUFfedgD37rNCltYvh2t4rCZP2LOEFtlvgqzyMf1On7uT8F8qVPR5DMA_uSqrOssg6YYmaU8zTbm69rXLhIlAQNqLjUT2gNHif1Dke1iuNd74cPsjrNIUSZmaM/s1600-h/DSCN0424.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248247267943035138" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgGFRJImAIFmUFfedgD37rNCltYvh2t4rCZP2LOEFtlvgqzyMf1On7uT8F8qVPR5DMA_uSqrOssg6YYmaU8zTbm69rXLhIlAQNqLjUT2gNHif1Dke1iuNd74cPsjrNIUSZmaM/s320/DSCN0424.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Part 1:</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">In the Wake of Discovery: </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Following the trail of Lewis and Clark solo by canoe and foot in 2004.</span><br /><br />This long chapter in my blog is my archived journals of my 6-month solo paddle/hike trip following the trail of Lewis & Clark from St. Louis to the Pacific in 2004. This journey was a childhood dream of mine which I completed during the 200th anniversary of the original expedition of 1804-06. My intent at the time was to travel by solo canoe up the Missouri River for 2600-miles to Three Forks Montana. From there, I traded canoe paddles for hiking boots and spent about a month hiking to Orifino, Idaho on the Clearwater River. This is where the Lewis & Clark Expedition built dugout canoes for their journey to the Pacific. From Orifino I traveled down the Clearwater, Snake and Columbia Rivers to Astoria Oregon where the river meets the Pacific Ocean. The journey was a most memorable undertaking involving a lot of mental and physical challenges, disappointments, as well as wonderful experiences. A journey of this magnitude never really goes the way it was planned, and I learned it was important to be flexible in whatever was dished out to me. I was under a 6-month time limit, and this restraint caused me to have to make a few changes in my <span style="color:#ffff00;">plans</span> along the way which you will read about in this ongoing story. I've included many memorable scenes from this historic trail.<br /><br />I traveled solo mainly because no one else wanted to commit to such an undertaking. I prearrainged 12-food drops in which I had a friend send me food supplies to various post offices along the route. I spent the previous winter and spring dehydrating food so that I didn't have to rely on purchasing food along the way. The Lewis & Clark Trail is not a remote trail anymore. In fact it passes along probably 100 towns, including some very large cities such as Kansas City and Portland. I encountered many people along the trail who added a lot of character to my journey. There may have only been a gap of 3 days without ever seeing another person. However I did go as much as 5 days without speaking to anyone.<br /><br />I had dreamed of doing this trip back in the early 1970's when I was in the 3rd Grade. I began planning this trip about 2000 not knowing at the time that the bicentennial of the original expedition was to take place in 2004. Once I found out about this, I decided that 2004 would be the year I set aside the rest of my life and pursue a dream.<br /><br /><br />I hope you enjoy the story and photos I've enclosed here. This is a very long story about 100,000 words.<br /><p>(Above photo of statue of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark and Lewis's dog Seaman in St. Charles Missouri 2004. Copyright 04 Norm Miller.</p><p></p>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-80060912580634327842008-04-16T18:50:00.000-07:002008-04-16T19:11:52.404-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>What I paddle and why? The story of the Sea Wind: Solo Expedition</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Canoes. Part 3:</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5wD4iH6ESLSy8YXGD2d_36Leo8CKT3PW7brMgWLsFSX_aCwTfUEB75L_5PzxvmKbLt3wthZ3OeyRw4bUkQpMcR9VwhRbmw-8Ot8NUoU2weAJZlTPjDLM6C5uSvi-X6IcycMDB/s1600-h/Sea+Wind+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190026523221523410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5wD4iH6ESLSy8YXGD2d_36Leo8CKT3PW7brMgWLsFSX_aCwTfUEB75L_5PzxvmKbLt3wthZ3OeyRw4bUkQpMcR9VwhRbmw-8Ot8NUoU2weAJZlTPjDLM6C5uSvi-X6IcycMDB/s320/Sea+Wind+1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdyJeWCW5OurGHLx_OQCQ3WgDOFIwLO-5WCMtIrKu9-eO-mwQr5bJM1hPVak5W8oSznWM76ZQNKbrL8iuKSJpWrd38ALjB4thNdrVOzUrnvU5LkyGhsiFa-nTJPbGq68mWx4q/s1600-h/Sea+Wind+6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190026523221523426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdyJeWCW5OurGHLx_OQCQ3WgDOFIwLO-5WCMtIrKu9-eO-mwQr5bJM1hPVak5W8oSznWM76ZQNKbrL8iuKSJpWrd38ALjB4thNdrVOzUrnvU5LkyGhsiFa-nTJPbGq68mWx4q/s320/Sea+Wind+6.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibK1GU-HG1mCpC90zhS9btConVS7nNac0WDMVXInnZnmyQVgsBrRA9ofc73NxfsgmTfAJ-3JY0zdiuwI-_ptPy6ZJ1R12VxUp0hrX-UqevsGkcFOX_WuWMEy87Rpb5myoNqFZl/s1600-h/Sea+Wind+5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190026523221523442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibK1GU-HG1mCpC90zhS9btConVS7nNac0WDMVXInnZnmyQVgsBrRA9ofc73NxfsgmTfAJ-3JY0zdiuwI-_ptPy6ZJ1R12VxUp0hrX-UqevsGkcFOX_WuWMEy87Rpb5myoNqFZl/s320/Sea+Wind+5.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:arial;"><strong>Part Three:</strong> Another great feature in the Sea Wind is its construction strength. It has 12 layers of Kevlar in the hull! Kevlar is what <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bullet</span> proof-vest are made of and so are many canoe because of its light weight and strength. The Sea Wind holds the record as the boat with the most layers of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kevlar</span> than any other canoe or kayak manufactured in the world. Most manufacturers use 2-4 layers, much less than this canoe. I've had mine come off the top of my truck going down the road at about 50mph, watched it cartwheel, and only suffered a few minor nicks and scratches. When </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Verlen</span> Kruger was alive back in the late 90's he showed me how strong they were by smashing the bottom with a hammer...it just bounced off. Try this with any other canoe or sea kayak and you will disappointed. I've dragged my boat over logs, rocks, sand bars, hit pipes, submerged cars, dropped, and watch the wind blow it around my yard without harming it. This is the ideal expedition canoe for those wanting to go beyond the normal range of exploration. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Verlen</span> used this same design to paddle two expeditions one being 28,000 miles and the other about 21,000 miles. Each took more than two years to complete. This boat handled the waters off of Alaska, the west coast of the U.S to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Baja</span>, the Atlantic coast, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Caribbean</span>, Amazon, the Great Lakes, the Yukon and rounded Cape Horn Argentina as well. I feel this boat will last me the rest of my life for solo paddling. Combined with comfort, effieciency, strength, manuverability, and roominess this to me is the ultimate tripping canoe.</span><br /><div></div>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-44773758308835367882008-04-12T11:37:00.000-07:002008-04-16T16:22:17.392-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEP0229lJDjGsq11F2fjjtGHsIOV_seoO2VaR_QhD3Fxd5tvdcART-bZH4t0k8zpf66bgmMP2HUy6t-G0evSRpqmo4A0Jm1Q7Fo1i9QU1NENQtrw9hyphenhyphenIEpfQclCL4mUL7xWQs/s1600-h/DSCN6693.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189986640155212706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEP0229lJDjGsq11F2fjjtGHsIOV_seoO2VaR_QhD3Fxd5tvdcART-bZH4t0k8zpf66bgmMP2HUy6t-G0evSRpqmo4A0Jm1Q7Fo1i9QU1NENQtrw9hyphenhyphenIEpfQclCL4mUL7xWQs/s400/DSCN6693.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;">Part 2: What and Why I paddle: The story of the </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;">Kruger Sea Wind-Solo Expedition Canoe</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><div>One of the great features of this boat is the amount of room and easy accessability to gear. There</div><div>are no tiny hatches to cram gear into, oft times requireing many small dry bags in order to do so. You can use just a couple large 5000 ccm bags to hold all your gear. I've watched friends spend a lot of effort in getting gear in and out of their kayaks. They even have one special dry bag just for their sleeping bag. It's one big hassle if you ask me when you can put all your clothing, tent, sleeping bag and whatever into one big bag. I never feel limited on what I can or need to bring. Its a canoe remember! In 2004 I did a solo 6- month journey carrying far more than the average person would normally carry. Not only did I have my necessary gear and two-weeks supply of food but I also carried a large Pelican case containing a lap-top computer, another P-Case containing a satellite phone, and two cameras. I also carried two folding solar panels to recharge all my batteries. This was for a historical project involving the Lewis & Clark Bicentennial...thats a whole different story. The Kruger Sea Wind has a removable seat so I can sleep inside the hull. Many Kruger oweners have built a tent to erect over their canoe..sort of a canopy type thing. How many times have you watched a sea-kayaker spend so much time and effort limiting what they bring and fitting it into cramped deck holes? And then after that, they themselves cram their bodys into the cockpit. You can probably tell I'm a little biased, but after experiencing all these discomforts myself before owning a Sea Wind, I would never want to go back to another boat. Even if you're just paddling for a weekend outting with friends; why not bring the cooler, two burner Coleman stove, folding table, and a case of beer? It too will all fit in the Sea Wind. Its a great canoe for dog owners as well!</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-25232964382352337722008-04-11T18:40:00.000-07:002008-04-13T21:36:53.105-07:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Part 1:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">What I paddle and why. </span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">The story of the Sea Wind: Solo </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Expedition Canoes.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdD9lJGQTE04jetF8IWDvQJYXjIVk9VDekqgbkPuqCTbgJTbRy3H6bp0JAt3WHLeAbMNh69XRYAaZkez8hx6e0hUHLWAIV0ce0qbop2fpKLeG_brLXb-zd6unbGoASyEiIcPGB/s1600-h/31+windbound.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188170459702310466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 295px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px" height="225" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdD9lJGQTE04jetF8IWDvQJYXjIVk9VDekqgbkPuqCTbgJTbRy3H6bp0JAt3WHLeAbMNh69XRYAaZkez8hx6e0hUHLWAIV0ce0qbop2fpKLeG_brLXb-zd6unbGoASyEiIcPGB/s320/31+windbound.jpg" width="305" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqagXMqedCJkGdqIZBYfB0LJNiIEhn5V2gDAIbRmBY_p14beTrOZOtGZvxjY9TikQVEw4YxkOJ04FwNfeWm5ifmiNVLwp0SLCPxw5disgWo20UEvu2t1_qinus3e7qnc945uc/s1600-h/1+pre+start.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188170455407343154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 277px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px" height="223" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqagXMqedCJkGdqIZBYfB0LJNiIEhn5V2gDAIbRmBY_p14beTrOZOtGZvxjY9TikQVEw4YxkOJ04FwNfeWm5ifmiNVLwp0SLCPxw5disgWo20UEvu2t1_qinus3e7qnc945uc/s320/1+pre+start.jpg" width="292" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-VwyM-BDhNBw0C_8sfeEMTKohtkTmLpp9BgSO0C2X9g212Cw6DAxr32n7IOGEZHvzJcS3xeAhEi2M1oOOWwAdVIVC2ie0Ril4smlSxpk1mIkyQwYZeq3uSEYCasfzMOSZwYO/s1600-h/49+white+cliffs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188170459702310482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" height="233" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-VwyM-BDhNBw0C_8sfeEMTKohtkTmLpp9BgSO0C2X9g212Cw6DAxr32n7IOGEZHvzJcS3xeAhEi2M1oOOWwAdVIVC2ie0Ril4smlSxpk1mIkyQwYZeq3uSEYCasfzMOSZwYO/s320/49+white+cliffs.jpg" width="305" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8H0VOsf86dyBr59b0rzy1sJrWf301wQ9E5ZU1vlZnRgt1_Bcnnk8nOedn4EHDAsbN_CztZEEWjB9hpwZg8RVt4usBhr9XRvnoZiNwuInUKvUuoK8NXnnvq0ei4ukmTM1JwHa/s1600-h/103+near+postland.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188170463997277794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 308px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px" height="216" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8H0VOsf86dyBr59b0rzy1sJrWf301wQ9E5ZU1vlZnRgt1_Bcnnk8nOedn4EHDAsbN_CztZEEWjB9hpwZg8RVt4usBhr9XRvnoZiNwuInUKvUuoK8NXnnvq0ei4ukmTM1JwHa/s320/103+near+postland.jpg" width="308" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">The Sea Wind: </span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">A solo-expedition canoe built </span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">by the late Verlen Kruger.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">People have said, "is that a kayak?". I usually don't try to explain the differences in boat designs or the history of the canoe & kayak, so I usually tell them its a hybrid. What Verlen accomplished in this boat design is combining the some of the best features of both types of crafts creating the ultimate paddling boat. The Sea Wind is the most comfortable canoe I have ever paddled. I have been in plenty of sea kayaks and was always uncomfortable. In a sea kayak I was always crammed in the cockpit with no freedom to move about.. Like a foot in a tight shoe. I like to move around, have good circulation in my legs and ventilation of fresh air so that I'm not roasting like being inside a plastic bag on a hot summers day. I wanted to feel the wind on my legs and be able to get out of the boat on a moments notice without having to make a big production out of it. So after paddling the Sea Wind during a test drive with Verlen back in 97, I vowed never to get back in a sea kayak ever again. From that day on I have enjoyed the long days of paddling sometimes putting in 15 hours without ever getting out the canoe. Its THAT comfortable! Comfort relates to efficiency and speed as well. If your not comfortable you certainly cannot paddle efficiently, if you then not efficient you will then be sloppy and fatigue will set in causing more inefficiency in your paddling. It will then become a bear and unpleasant. I find those long 10-hour days very enjoyable. End of Part 1.</span>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-64930861925843021622007-08-29T12:36:00.000-07:002008-11-23T09:37:32.492-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Still Me Voyage ~ A journey from paraplegia.</span><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhOfX4VifHU7OThDczsMooDy2Mbua8SGIq1qNX5GaCSEdnMjJuRdpMstFRTJwV7g8JJyf6Q_SiZKp1_a6_NX9HsmlaqPpvCqawnVbhW4WKPNGGdZYsrwrDdzGAr_CW_AEdjQz/s1600-h/greg+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261610539981823858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhOfX4VifHU7OThDczsMooDy2Mbua8SGIq1qNX5GaCSEdnMjJuRdpMstFRTJwV7g8JJyf6Q_SiZKp1_a6_NX9HsmlaqPpvCqawnVbhW4WKPNGGdZYsrwrDdzGAr_CW_AEdjQz/s400/greg+4.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Greg Allen relaxes along the Mackenzie River NWT.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Greg paddled the "Mac" solo 3-time and is paraplegic!</span></div><div align="center"></div><br />"The pain gets so bad I have to take extra methadone to sleep. I hope I have enough to last", says Greg Allen after several days on a long 1300 mile journey down the Mackenzie River in Canada. The pain creeps in each day often to the point of taking over his body, but he seems to disregard it as if it were an annoying black fly caught inside his headnet. Only a handful paddle the remote Canadian River; none that are paraplegic-except Allen. I remember it well the day it happened he says. Being thrown from a mule, "It sounded like a branch breaking on a cold winters day". Cervical cord trauma to 5 of his vertebrates Greg Allen's life changed instantly. Diagnosis-paraplegia. Weeks passed in a bed at the University of Albuquerque Hospital. Allen was finally released on October 10, 1999 five years to the day that Superman actor Christopher Reeves would die.<br /><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuzIRjP-OsSE7sSzg_cB08j93IvWj0HVGlyt09uGTiKPcYoep_7j9w1ZyJKShilpLuaLHt3B75lZQEjJYVLesWvgelHjbb1iEDV41vJuTqMqifhPcLtc-Atmiu56ajl8KNz4l/s1600-h/greg3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261606209917367154" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuzIRjP-OsSE7sSzg_cB08j93IvWj0HVGlyt09uGTiKPcYoep_7j9w1ZyJKShilpLuaLHt3B75lZQEjJYVLesWvgelHjbb1iEDV41vJuTqMqifhPcLtc-Atmiu56ajl8KNz4l/s400/greg3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Above: Gregs canoe set-up including small kayak in which he catamarand with the canoe for extra stability.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><blockquote><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></blockquote><blockquote><p>"Being crippled you don't necessarily have to give up the things you love. You just need a different perspective." Greg Allen</p></blockquote><p align="center"></span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-41S00S-SQH0n_KGUkojThyWJKKUAnjg8eaXZYLQQSGPREAM3f5jNwlUYe3LdOHTg6LDeKKJB32N8m4j0rvgKO-YGEptrTOGWMdsod7yfhSdS4A3-4b1qgC4LwWUFmOo473li/s1600-h/greg+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261605234751362466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-41S00S-SQH0n_KGUkojThyWJKKUAnjg8eaXZYLQQSGPREAM3f5jNwlUYe3LdOHTg6LDeKKJB32N8m4j0rvgKO-YGEptrTOGWMdsod7yfhSdS4A3-4b1qgC4LwWUFmOo473li/s400/greg+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Above: Greg with Japaneese paddler he met along the way.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><p align="left"><br /></span></p><br />Depression would finally overtake Allen's waking hours. "It’s the physical suffering, not being able to do the things you're use to and watching your dreams disappear in a flash". Allen lay in bed feeling sorry for himself. One faithful day his wife Linda gave him a tape entitled "Still Me" by Chris Reeves. Allen would play the tape over and over until his own world changed from within. In the five years since his injury Allen has gained some use of his legs. "I can walk again, but I fall down a lot". Awkward and no control of balance he seems like an infant child who is beginning to learn to walk for the first time. With the help of a wheelchair and cane Allen began to gain sight of many of his long lost dreams.<br />"What I learned and want to pass on to others is that you cannot give up – ever –on anything you want to do. Things I used to take for granted like walking, driving, even going to the bathroom are new challenges. Being crippled you do not necessarily have to give up the things you love. You just need a different prospective." Allen's positive outlook and attitude can be compared to Winston Churchill's quote; "Never ever give up". I'm sure his mental attitude has something to do with overcoming his physical challenges. Allen has always been fascinated by the Arctic as well as canoeing. In his younger days he acted as a guide in the Boundary Waters of Northern Minnesota. One day Allen decided to canoe the longest river in Canada. People thought he was "nuts". "I'm crippled, I'm not disabled" Allen would say to them. He tried to get friends to join him but all seemed to have a world of excuses. After gaining close to 60lbs after rehab, lying around the house and watching TV, feeling sorry for himself, the urge to head out solo took control of him. He didn't know how he would do it, but he knew he would.<br /><p align="center"><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTIHmY9-_wxyxaMTek4QBwS0hwkRK6ShcSOH-Bivg8IX2hsq0Dv2QkAMP35RPOUqm672ChSC91SkF-bpjARUC99kGiiI16E-5YtYWSmSX5V8UKxH_jEArDAkAvgTMO37Rrjuv/s1600-h/greg1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261604246045917442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTIHmY9-_wxyxaMTek4QBwS0hwkRK6ShcSOH-Bivg8IX2hsq0Dv2QkAMP35RPOUqm672ChSC91SkF-bpjARUC99kGiiI16E-5YtYWSmSX5V8UKxH_jEArDAkAvgTMO37Rrjuv/s400/greg1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>Solo Down the Mighty Mac:<br /></strong>The fear of being alone in the wilds is more than many of us can handle. What if something goes wrong? "The funny thing about being alone in the wilds is that you are no longer disabled. Being disabled is a relative term." Allen's wife Linda insisted on driving him north to Ft. Simpson at the head of the Mackenzie River not too far from where the mighty river leaves Great Slave Lake. Allen says he was a poor driver and couldn't figure out why people were so insistent on driving on one particular side of the road. The day finally came when all the planning and talk had to be put into action. Hesitant and reluctant to depart, Allen knew it was now or never. As the sun shone brightly on the wide river, Allen shoved off into the current.<br /><br />His mode of transportation seems to bring back memories of hillbilly Jed Clampet's heavy-laden truck on their way to Beverlyhills. Allen paddled a 16-ft Chipewyan style fiberglass canoe with a 10-ft Old Town Otter kayak - pontooned together. He also took a Nissan 3.5 horsepower kicker and a sail for those frequent windy days the Mackenzie is known for. "It was stable, unsinkable and as comfortable as anything you could imagine", says Allen. All of his equipment was donated by friends and corporations including a full bodied dry suit supplied by Kokatat. Allen needed all the help he could get especially when it came to survival gear. Had he fallen overboard in the cold waters, his inability to swim may have caused his demise.<br /><br />His initial days were very difficult taking as long as 4 hours to set up camp and three hours to tear it down the next morning. Allen's struggles to maintain proper footing in the mud was only part of the slow pace. At times he would fall over in the mud while hauling gear to shore only to struggle for his life to extract himself from the slimy hold. He knew that being crippled he must be without errors. As the days went by so did his efficiency. Faced with constant dangers of getting hurt he proceeded on. The lazy meandering current would take him through the land of the Dog Rib Indians and Inuits who consider the Mackenzie their major travel route. From a distance Allen appeared like anyone traveling down a river. Very few would ever know the physical struggles he has overcome. The river was once well traveled by the courier du bois from the Hudson Bay Company and the NorWestern. Alexander Mackenzie would become the first white to explore this region in 1789. Even though these stories are centuries old, they seem like today for Allen. He feels one with the land, as if he has traveled though here before. Many river travelers often talk about the sense of timelessness or a drifting back into the past.<br /><br />In a land with no darkness Allen had all the time he needed to complete the 1000-mile journey.<br />"You can't run out of daylight. This allows you take all the time in the world to go safely. Because of that, being solo and crippled becomes a matter of time not physical ability. Psychically I felt I could do anything a well person could."<br />His most challenging aspect of the entire journey was his "own stupidity". He didn’t feel there were any other challenges. It became a fulfillment of his dreams.<br />"I felt like I was in Heaven. When your physical life becomes what your imagination envisions a strange feeling comes over you. It's a timelessness, a real sense of other worldliness."<br /><br /><blockquote><span style="color:#6600cc;">"<span style="font-size:130%;">Well, not only can I walk but apparently I can run!"</span></span></blockquote><div><br /><br /><strong>Near Disaster:</strong> As Allen approached the famed Ramparts of the Mackenzie his journey nearly ended. The Ramparts is an 8- mile long stretch of high limestone cliffs that pinch the river from nearly a mile wide to a few hundred yards wide. Alexander Mackenzie was told by the Indians of impending doom if he ventured there. Once Mackenzie reached the Ramparts he actually thought the river came to an abrupt end due to the sudden decline in width. While setting up his camp above the Ramparts he happened to look back and see his canoe and kayak floating away. He jumped into the river but realized the current was too strong and he could not catch them. The slippery rocks became a challenge for him to reach shore, which he finally did after a long struggle.<br />"It was surreal. There I was, alone in the middle of a 1000 mile canoe journey through one of Canada's greatest wilderness areas, a cripple who could just barely walk and my boats were floating away."<br />Allen hadn't seen anyone in days and knew that just downstream were the rapids of the Ramparts. He was hoping his boats would end up in an eddy so he hurriedly headed down along the shore in search of them. He knew he had to run.<br />"I don't know how but I did. As I realized what was happening I felt like Forest Gump and the shackles of my disability seemed to fly off my legs with each step I took."<br />After a half a mile when the boats turned a corner and disappeared he stopped.<br />" The boats were gone but I could run!"<br />He had his camp and provisions on shore and knew that someone would eventually pass by on the river. As he was walking back to his camp the distant drone of a motor brought him to his senses. Two natives from Ft. Good Hope were towing his boats toward shore. Joyous at another prayer answered he met them at the shore. They asked him what had happed and his only reply was "stupid white man". After a moment of laughter the two men departed as if transported to another dimension. Allen secured his boats to shore more thoroughly. A lesson well learned. He thought about the doctors who told him he would never walk again, "well, not only can I walk but apparently I can run!" Allen made it through the Ramparts and on to Ft. Good Hope the following day and reported in with the local RCMP, which is required of all river travelers.<br /></div><br /><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><br /><div><strong>Simple twist of fate:</strong> Another day on the Mackenzie found Allen near Tuleta when a sudden storm blew in. The waves increased to size forcing Allen to shore where the pounding surf swamped his boats causing the pontoon pole to break. Some of his gear began to float away hurried by the wind. A large barge, which was hauling supplies upstream pulled to shore but Allen, waved them off figuring he could handle the situation. The barge pulled to shore anyway and the men came downstream to aid in his dilemma. They helped salvage most of his wet gear, took him aboard and served him some hot coffee to warm his cold wet bones. Allen asked them why they stopped even after waving them off and they said they never saw him. "Now, for a guy who has been crippled for five years and has had nothing but bad luck, that's a sign."<br /><br />The miles turned into weeks, the weeks into a fulfillment of a dream. Allen felt he had done this journey many times before. Every paddle stroke seemed to be as fluid as a voyageur, one who is familiar with the route. That route whether it is the journey of a river or the destiny of ones own soul lies buried deep within those who experience such awakenings. For we never know why we really seek such adventure but that never stops those that believe they walk away from it a better person. Allen reached the imaginary global line known as the Arctic Circle while smoke from distant forest fires shrouded the day like an old dream. Allen realized that his determination and commitment despite his physical challenges was the secret to his success. As he drifted along bend after bend he knew he would come back someday to this primitive land. Allen's motivation now is to help others with paraplegia to experience the joys of paddling. "When you're on the water, it's as if you no longer are a cripple".<br /><br />Allen has since formed Kripples in Kayaks, an organization that helps encourage others with similar challenges by getting "cripples" out paddling. He has since paddled the Mackenzie two more times.</div><div></div><div>I'm sad to report that Greg Allen died in February 2008. He will be missed by family, friends, and those he inspired. I'm sure he's paddling on some great river right now, and most likely still running.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-70587052790954284252007-08-24T14:41:00.000-07:002007-08-24T15:10:05.418-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHM3tXlwEGKPYIOa9AYrxANix5mSTFxAdGR6P7LATwcMuy_vj5qibu9xGwwl4QnEJO9WSWqi9QYMMXtK1TzDLbw1u1i_5jgcp413S8ri0iyvwcT1w1EeVQo4U629EMjWOvsKnS/s1600-h/Verlen-Clint+Ocean.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102391529144701058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHM3tXlwEGKPYIOa9AYrxANix5mSTFxAdGR6P7LATwcMuy_vj5qibu9xGwwl4QnEJO9WSWqi9QYMMXtK1TzDLbw1u1i_5jgcp413S8ri0iyvwcT1w1EeVQo4U629EMjWOvsKnS/s200/Verlen-Clint+Ocean.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div> In 2001 I interviewed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Verlen</span> Kruger and Clint <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Waddell</span> about their historic record paddle journey by canoe. It was the 30<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> anniversary of this endeavor; which to me is one of the most incredible <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">canoeing</span> accomplishments ever. The story below I compiled from that interview in hopes of getting it published in a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">canoeing</span> magazine. I had been a friend of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Verlens</span> since 1997 when one day I just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">descided</span> to call him on the phone and talk adventure. This is just one of our many conversations. Sadly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Verlen</span> passed away in August of 2004 after a long bout with cancer.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Dared to go Beyond<br />Thirty Years of Reflection</div><br /><div><br />By:Norman W. Miller<br /><br /><br />It was October 10, 1971 and the cold wind bit at their grizzled and chapped faces, their hands, stiff and numb from paddling 7,000 miles, pushed the ice-encased canoe onto the shores of the Bering Sea. This ended a six-month trek across North America from Montreal for two modern-day voyageurs—Clint <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Waddell</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Verlen</span> Kruger. No one had done this before.<br />"I just wanted to get to some place warm, with warm food and cloths" says <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Waddell</span>, recalling the icy waters of the Bering Sea 30 years ago.<br />Coined the Cross Continent Canoe Safari (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">CCCS</span>), the journey was one of longstanding dreams and ambitions and not intended as a stunt to set any record. But set records they did, which still stand today. It was the early seventies—flashback to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Viet</span> Nam War, the hit song Jeremiah was a Bullfrog and the Sonny and Cher Show—when Kruger and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Waddell</span> became the first ever to paddle across North America in six months.<br />For Kruger, who has racked up close to 100,000 miles in his lifetime of paddling, the Cross Continent Canoe Safari remains etched in his mind forever. "It will always be special--that first big effort. A person has lots of dreams and ideas and they get playing with your mind. You begin to wonder if it can be done…finally came the day when it did come true," recalls Kruger.<br />Slipping their 140-pound homemade <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">sitka</span> spruce canoe into the ice-choked waters of the St. Lawrence on April 1971, Kruger and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Waddell</span> had no idea that the entire next week would be nothing but shear torture. The river was so clogged with ice they had to portage 44 miles around it. "We were too psyched up and too stupid," recalls Kruger. It would have been more rational for them to start in open water than to try and break through the ice with the canoe. The strain of carrying the canoe and gear caused their muscles to tighten up in knots; Kruger remembers it took several minutes of lying in the tent before his butt and shoulders would touch the ground at the same time.<br />For weeks on end, sometimes paddling 36 hours a stretch, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Waddell</span> and Kruger inched there way through Ontario, around the North shore of Lake Superior, then through the historic fur trade route toward Lake Winnipeg and beyond. Inspired by the early 18<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">th</span> century voyageurs that opened Canada up to exploration, both men were determined to press on. "Today's man is capable of doing what our forefathers did," claims Kruger. "They were no more supermen than people are now." Looking into Kruger's eyes gives one the impression of a man who has lived in the early centuries as well as the present.<br />Surrounded by miles of raw beauty, pristine waterways, and the solitude of nature, their determination to press onward became an everyday part of their lives. "I am impressed that two people got along so well for that length of time," says <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Waddell</span> with a laugh. "We spent more time together than most married couples." Sometimes hours would pass by with only the sound of paddle strokes breaking the silence. Pressed for time, the modern day voyageurs worked their way across the famed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Methy</span> Portage, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Clearwater</span> drainage, the Athabasca and Slave Rivers, and down the mighty Mackenzie River. Oft times they were slowed down waiting for a documentary filmmaker who followed them to vantage points along the way. The constant waiting for the camera crew began to eat away at their patience. Winter was closing in as they battled with the arduous Rat River and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">McDougall</span> Pass. "The Rat was the most physically demanding part of the trip," says <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Waddell</span>. "We were cold and wet, pulling the canoe back and forth across the river while in flood stage. We had to cut trees down and even lost valuable gear when we swamped the canoe."<br />By early September, the snow had reached the high elevations and the autumn colors were fading to brown. Winter was closing in for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Waddell</span> and Kruger who still had to paddle over 1000 miles down the Yukon before it froze solid. Then on a cold October day they paddled the last stroke, gazing out over the sea and tasting the salt in the water. They accomplished what others had questioned. Against near impossible odds, they arrived on the exact date estimated in their time schedule. "The view was anticlimactic," recalls Kruger. "Nothing but brush and mud bars. But the experience of having arrived was tremendous."<br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">CCCS</span> has inspired many paddlers over the years, causing some to wonder if they too can pull off such an accomplishment. "People just need to do it," exclaims <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Waddell</span>. "Even if you fail. Too many people say 'one of these days, I'm going to do this or that,’ well one of these days never comes around."<br />Not a day goes by where the two are not reminded of their historic efforts. The smell of a musty pack or the call of the geese puts them back on the river. "I was boiling eggs the other day and thought of the time on the Mackenzie River when I was watching a pot of eggs boil only to accidentally drop one in the fire. I wiped off the ashes and ate it just moments before <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Verlen</span> noticed there was an egg missing in the pot," says <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Waddell</span>, chuckling at the memory.<br />Thirty years have passed but often it seems just like yesterday to the two men. The trip calculations estimate they paddled over five million strokes. There were 133 portages totaling 153 miles. Kruger and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Waddell</span> covered more distance in six months than anyone recorded has ever traveled by canoe. But for these two men who dared to go beyond these numbers mean little; it’s living the experience that matters. Kruger puts it succinctly: "if you can dream it, then you can do it." </div>Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17747860.post-30427576141723507222007-08-24T13:51:00.000-07:002007-08-24T14:26:59.578-07:00This story was first published in <em>Paddler Magazine</em> May/June 2001 Issue.<br />I had the pleasure of being a member of the support team for one of the<br />few all-women teams for one of the most difficult races in North America-The Ausable River Canoe Marathon.<br /><br />(Copyright Paddler Magazine May/June 2001)<br /><br />"Apollo 13 Canoe Survives the Marathon"<br />By Norman Miller<br /><br />For Abby Kingman and Lisa Salvini racing in the countries toughest non-stop canoe race was to be just that. Long and tough! However upon finishing the 53rd running of the AuSable Canoe Marathon, Kingman said " I felt we were the Apollo 13 canoe! Everything went wrong."<br />During the 120 mile course which runs all night from Grayling to Oscoda Michigan, Kingman and Salvini broke one paddle, knocked off there bow light, required a 12 inch gash in the hull, and broke the self bailer which empties water from the canoe. The 2000 Marathon boosted its largest number of entrants ever with 68 canoes. "The Marathon" as it is known draws North Americas top paddlers including Serge Corbin who was attempting his 5th consecutive win with Jeff Kolka.<br />Not only did Kingman and Salvini have to deal with there canoe taking in water, but with 8 hours of night paddling, log jams, six hydro-dam portages, high humidity and fatigue.<br />"Quitting was not an option" said Salvini. "Our pit team came a long ways to help us out and we were not going to let them down"<br />Racers have what are called "feeders" or "pit crews" who follow them downstream providing food, drink, and emergency items the paddlers may need. Team #72's support came from Todd Hanna from Oregon and Norm Miller from Utah.<br />"Once we found out they were taking in lots of water, the rest of the night became a logistical nightmare" said Hanna.<br />"We knew we had to help them as much as possible with our support. Especially the emotional support" said Miller. "We decided to show up at Wakely Bridge with the repair kit and spare light. They were not expecting us until McMasters bridge another hour away," said Miller.<br />"We were happy to see them" said Kingman. "We knocked off our light and were paddling blind trying to stay close to the canoe ahead that had a light"<br />Throughout the night and early morning Team #72 traded off positions with Lynne Witte and Karen Levitt, the only other all female team entered in the race. Witte is a record holder in the Marathon, having placed as high as 4th overall as a mixed team with Jim Meyers in 1988.<br />The six portages provided excitement for the fans as well as the pit crews. Paddlers get quite stiff from sitting so long that the portages provide some relief to their tired cramped legs. Kingman and Salvini jumped out of their canoe lifting it over head to drain water, urine, food and empty water bottles for the 1/4-mile run to the river below. Hanna would run next to the team and ask if they needed anything, while Miller waited below with the food and water jugs.<br />"It felt good knowing that after a fast pit your team gained 15 seconds on the next team" said Hanna.<br />At Five-Channels Dam more water entered the canoe causing Kingman and Salvini to duct-tape the hole. Witte and Levitt gained valuable time here. At the final portage at Loud Dam some 100 plus miles and over 16 hours of over 60 stokes per minute, Team #72 made one last attempt to patch the ugly hole and headed downstream. The support team of Miller and Hanna felt relieved that their part of the job was over and headed toward Oscoda.<br />"Shortly after seeing the women at Loud, the heavens unleashed a cold hard rain," said Miller. "We had there rain gear in the car and no access point to drop it off to them. After all they had been through, we were certain they would finish anyway".<br />The crowds at the finish had sought dryer ground as Kingman and Salvini crossed the line in 18 hours 8 minutes for 46th place. They were twenty-nine minutes behind Lynne Witte and Karen Levitt. Seventeen teams had dropped out during the coarse due to various reasons, but the Apollo 13 canoe battled through the tough times to finish North Americas toughest canoe race.<br />"Those are two tough women, I can't believe they stuck it out" said Hanna.Norm Millerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06220107547861030267noreply@blogger.com0