One Year From Now...

Been a while since my last post and for those following, I apologize. Life has been pretty hectic these past several months with the troubles of starting a business, writing a novel, and of course work. But now it's time to get back to the posts because it's time to get back to the Adventures.

In one year (August 2012), I will embark on my most ambitious adventure to date: the exploration of the full length of the Mississippi River. The countdown begins, as does the race against time to condition, outfit and prepare for such a journey.

Why? Because it's there. Because the largest river on this continent ends its winding in my home state. Because I've never, in 31 years, set foot in those muddy currents. Because one is more likely to meet a person who has summited Mount Everest than to meet a person who has seen the full length of the Mississippi. But mainly I wish to do it because I'm curious and the sound of the river calls to me much like the sound of the road tugged at my soul before I went Walkabout in September of 2009.

Who? I, for one, will be making the 2,320 mile voyage, spending most of my time sitting at the stern, steering the vessel. Tasha will be accompanying me, taking her seat at the bow. Between us (and rocking the boat from side to side as he looks at everything) will be Rocco (Adventure Dog). He'll be there mostly because it's nearly impossible to go anywhere for five minutes without him and definitely not three months. Also, because he'll be THE FIRST DOG TO CANOE THE ENTIRE MISSISSIPPI RIVER. EVER. PERIOD.

When? From August 2012 to October/November 2012. It takes 75-90 days to travel from Lake Itasca, Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico by way of canoe, and launching in August will grant us mild weather while in Minnesota. As fall advances, we'll be steadily paddling south through Minneapolis, Davenport, St. Louis, Memphis, Vicksburg, Natchez, Baton Rouge and New Orleans, ending our journey near Venice, Louisiana after we paddle out to the Gulf of Mexico.

How? With great difficulty, I expect. There are water falls in the upper portions, dozens of lakes, boats, barges, swamps, dams, locks, alligators, waves, snakes, undertow, storms, floods and hurricanes. And those are only the difficulties we'll have to face that come from beyond the gunwales of our boat. Within, we face sunburn, blisters, illness, muscle fatigue/strain, fear, apprehension, panic, frustration and arguments. Tasha and I know our relationship can withstand the difficulties associated with separation. We did it when I went Walkabout and it continues now that I drive a truck 3 weeks out of the month. But will being trapped in a canoe for three months put us to the test? Probably. No matter how fast either of us paddles, we won't be able to escape. We'll probably hate each other before the end... but we'll get through it. We'll have to. There's no way out but downstream. I just have to hope she doesn't shank me in my sleep.

A Canoe? Yes. We're going to tackle that river in a canoe. An extremely narrow, low-profile canoe with no motor. It will be propelled by a pair of wooden paddles and a lot of manual labor. Why a canoe? Because my earliest memories on the water were in a canoe, an orange Coleman, 15.5 feet in length. Canoes are good boats for river travel, especially extended trips. They have a higher payload capacity than kayaks and even some aluminum boats, yet they're still narrow and nimble enough to slide into spots that motor driven boats could never hope to explore. They draw only a few inches of water, so those early miles through shallow portions will be easy. By most recent count, there are 22 places where one must portage a boat (carry the boat over land to cross obstacles). Most of these are small dams and waterfalls in the upper quarter of the river. Try carrying a 16 foot bass boat and let me know if it's a good idea. No. Canoes and kayaks alone can traverse the entire length of the river. And I'm not putting that high-energy dog in a kayak. I don't like swimming that much.

What's Wrong With Me? Plenty. First is the belief that I was born in the wrong century. Exploration, facing dangers and challenges, eating bugs, drinking out of streams and sleeping on the ground suits me fine. It's not only my idea of fun, it's my ideal life. I yearn for the day when I can spend the majority of my time living like that. Secondly, my time on Walkabout didn't quench my wanderlust, it inflamed it. I got a taste for exploration and now I need more. Driving this truck 70,000 miles in the past 9 months is not enough. I see the same roads more then twice and I get antsy. I need to get off the pavement and find some other avenue... like a river. Lastly, I made a bucket list and I'm steadily checking things off. Canoeing the Mississippi has been on that list for a long time, but soon it will be crossed off. I don't ever expect to do everything on my list because I keep adding to it, but I'll cross out a hell of a lot of items before I die.

What If I Fail? I'm going to do my very best to paddle that entire river from start to finish. I don't intend to stop in New Orleans like most thru-paddlers. That's not the end of it. I intend to do it all. If blisters force me to stop, then I'll stop... until my hands heal. Then I'll buy gloves. If a hurricane blows through, I'll wait it out. If the river floods, I'll keep paddling and watch for strange currents. But if, for some unforeseen reason, I cannot complete the trip, then I'll go home with a heavy heart and the ability to hold my head high and say "I did my best". Then I'll figure out what went wrong and start making plans to do  it again. And do it right. And I'll finish. I promise.

Dodging Tornadoes

It started in Paul's Valley, OK. I remember Paul's Valley quite well, having spent 4 days trapped there by a winter blast that had blown down from the Rockies and swept eastward across the country, dumping as much as 27 inches of snow in a matter of hours. I rode that wave from Denver all the way to Oklahoma City, following the taillights before me until the snow became ice and the roads became glaciers. I then skidded, bounced, slid and worried my way another sixty miles to Paul's Valley where I parked for 4 days, waiting for the roads to clear.

Then, a week ago, parked in Paul's Valley, the weather hit again. Another wave stretching from Texas to Canada was sweeping across the country. This wave was torrential downpours, electrical storms, and tornadoes. Hail hammered my truck while severe gusts threatened to blast me off the road. Rain and mist cut visibility down to 100 feet. Vehicles slid into the median and ditches, and tree limbs littered the interstate, providing attention-grabbing obstacles (though where they came from, I have no clue since there were no trees in sight).

I got confirmation that there were indeed tornadoes in the area, crisscrossing the land, tearing up whatever they could find. I kept moving, intent on driving out of the destruction. I figured I was harder to hit as a moving target.

I slept in Russellville, Arkansas and listened to Emergency Broadcast System warnings about tornadoes in a half dozen counties. That night, the violent winds shook my truck, rocking me to sleep as rain and hail slammed the roof.

In West Memphis, Arkansas, just as the sun was rising above the trees and struggling to pierce the dense clouds, another driver informed me that a massive tornado had carved a 2 mile wide path of destruction out of the Little Rock area a couple hours earlier… as I was driving through Little Rock. No wonder my truck had almost been blown off I-40 several times.

The winds had calmed so I thought it was over, but that afternoon I was proven wrong. While hooking to a trailer in West Memphis, a tornado struck. In an instant, the calm air was a turbulent, chaotic monster. My truck, weighing in at 78,500 lbs. felt as if it were being rammed by another truck. So violent were the gusts that it knocked my coffee mug from the cup holder. I sprinted inside the building, almost losing my footing to the winds, and took shelter inside. A couple parked trailers were overturned and a smaller trailer suddenly went sliding. It traveled a few hundred feet before crashing into a parked truck. The winds calmed a bit, only to return a half hour later. This went on in waves for several hours. By the time I left the next morning, part of the building's roof was gone.

Coming out of Northern Alabama in the afternoon was just as bad. Violent winds sprang from nowhere, slamming my truck about. The skies behind me, erratic clouds and frequent lightning, looked worse than the sky before me. So I drove on, weaving down state highways, dodging fallen trees and debris for several hours. My pulse was racing, my nerves were shot, and my hands ached from gripping the steering wheel. It was like driving through a hurricane… something I have experience doing.

I made it to the interstate and tore south, arriving safely in Saraland (where I was once assaulted by crackheads while on Walkabout). My training told me I should have stopped when the weather got that bad, but my instincts had been screaming for me to keep going. My instincts were proven right when I learned that a mile-wide tornado had ripped apart the area between Tuscaloosa and Birmingham, killing dozens of people and injuring hundreds more. I had been on the edge of that storm, fleeing. Had I stopped, I may very well have been part of those statistics.

Now, I'm safe in Florida. Another day of storms followed the Birmingham tornado, but I made it through that unscathed even though a truck parked 5 spaces down from me was overturned during the night. This bad weather seems to be following me. I've surfed the waves of three blizzards, two flood-inducing storm systems and now tornadoes. Every two weeks another wave of severe weather washes down from the Rockies and crosses the country. I've never heard of weather like this. Wonder what I'll see next month.

Welcome Home

Almost immediately after moving into my new home, I was back out on the road again. Several thousand miles later, I returned briefly to get my NC license, open a credit union account, and settle a few other things. I did get to paddle around Lake Norman a bit, but then I was in the truck again.

Now, after owning a Charlotte address for a month and a half, I finally got to see what all the fuss was about. Tasha had been joining hiking groups left and right, and it was with one of these groups that we hiked up South Mountain.

The trail began at a parking area where we met about twenty other people. Once gathered, we set out to conquer the trail. It traced the edge of a stream where a man in hip waders was fly fishing before crossing a narrow foot bridge. Then, it was all uphill from there.

Over boulders and mounds and up the mountain we went, ascending through the tree-covered slope. The sound of falling water grew in volume until we came to the source. The waterfall originated high in the mountain, but the source was obscured from view. From where we first glimpsed it, only the lowest portion could be seen.

Higher still we hiked, skirting the sides of the falls as we followed it up, closer to the source. The trail was steep, one of the steepest I'd ever been on, but worth the effort. At the top, the roaring falls came into view and those standing nearest the uppermost pool were getting misted by the rushing water.

We stood there a while, watching the churning water fly from the ledge overhead and thunder down onto the rocks below. It was magnificent to say the least.

The hike, up to the falls, to the top of the mountain, and back down to the bottom, took several hours and  a lot of energy, especially for someone from the flat country of south Louisiana. Tasha and I weren't accustomed to the elevation gain, but we didn't let that get in the way. It was just another obstacle to overcome on the way to enjoying the great outdoors.

I wonder what day two will bring.

P.S. Thanks to David and Florence from the hiking group for the photos. We accidentally left our newly-repaid camera at home for this trip. Oops.

The Vessel

Every great voyage needs a worthy vessel. Magellan had the Trinidad, Columbus had the Nina. Leonardo DiCaprio had the Titanic. Next year, when we embark on our great river voyage, we too will have a worthy vessel. 2,400 miles of the continent's mightiest river awaits and to conquer it, we'll need the best canoe money can buy.

Weighing in at a mere 65 lbs. our Old Town Penobscot will be light as a kayak, but the rolling rocker and shallow arch will keep it nimble, despite it's length. At 17 feet, it'll be able to carry 1200 lbs. of adventurers, dog, food and gear.

Why purchase such a canoe? The answer is simple. The Mississippi doesn't fool around. In the north it's lined with boulders, turning the gentle stream into Class II and III rapids, occasionally widening into massive lakes with wind and waves fully capable of capsizing small vessels. Further south, dams and locks force paddlers to portage their craft, hauling the canoe overland for as much as a half mile before getting the hull wet again.

Downstream, the river might as well be one giant lake. At over a mile wide in some places and 200 feet deep, it's used as a major shipping channel where barges that dwarf football fields chug along. 650,000 cubic feet of water discharge into the gulf every second from its mouth. It drains 31 states.

The undertow is among the worst in the world as far as rivers are concerned, and driving over bridges that cross it, especially along the Arkansas/Mississippi border, once can see whirlpools the size of large houses and currents that could spin, flip and rip apart a canoe or kayak.

The Mississippi kills people. That's why we're going all out with the canoe.

And the vessel will be powered by the best paddles money can buy. A pair of custom-made wooden paddles with curved shafts and smooth grips.

But a great vessel isn't complete unless it has a name. And ours will have a name... and a logo. Soon, the world will know the awesomeness of the LIBERATED STURGEON.

Great…

'They say behind every great man there's a great woman. While I'm not a great man, there's a great woman behind me.' 

That quote came from Meryll Frost, a quarterback interviewed by The Port Arthur News in February 1946. I can relate. Like Meryll, I do not consider myself a great man. I've accomplished a few things that made me feel great, and I wouldn't mind one day earning such status.

Regardless, there is someone great standing behind me. Everything I've done in the past two and a half years, I've done with the encouragement, support, help, advice and coordination of this great woman. She helped me prepare for my Walkabout despite the possibility that it could destroy our relationship. She actually threatened to break up with me if I didn't go because she knew how much the trip meant to me. She took care of everything in my absence so that I wouldn't be burdened by worries of the affairs of home. And she helped me through some of the most difficult parts of my trip, just by emailing a few words of encouragement.

When I returned, she supported me financially while I searched for a job. She kept everything moving while I got back on my feet and took over all the bills so I could save money for trucking school. Once that was done, she made it possible to launch into my new line of work by holding down the fort in my absence.

Now, she continues to hold down the fort, packed up all our belongings to prepare for the move to North Carolina, found us a place to live, sold off all our junk, and worked out the details concerning utilities for our new home. She did all that, while still finding time to write, take care of our four year old child who looks like a black lab puppy, sort through submissions for our writing contest, and get our taxes done.

Once the move is done, she has to start conditioning for a 3 day hike into the mountains of Peru to Machu Picchu and a three month long canoe trip down the continent's mightiest river. And that's just the outdoor stuff. There's a job search, helping to run our own home business/publishing company, find a house to buy, and countless other miscellaneous things.

She's stressed, tired, aggravated, and discouraged, but she keeps going, dealing with one problem after another in a  way I never could. She crushes obstacles and moves forward, leaving a trail of accomplishments in her wake. She's my Adventure Chick, my muse, my confidence. She's done more than she even realizes. She praises me for my accomplishments even though she's pushing me forward the whole time. She's my love. She's Tasha.

Maybe one day I'll be great. If so, it'll be because she was right there behind me, beside me, pushing me along and elevating me to her level.

Rollin', rollin', rollin'...

Over 15,000 miles since November 4th and having a blast. I've now seen every mile of Interstate 10 and 59, most of 40, 55, 57, and a good chunk of 20. I've also driven through a snowstorm so intense that I had no idea that I had left the desert behind and driven through a major city until I was a hundred miles on the other side of it. It was pretty crazy.

Hometime is a different story. Though I love being on the move, my time at home never comes soon enough and when it finally arrives, it seems I'm suddenly heading back out again. Too many projects at home and not nearly enough time to work on them. There are stories that must be written, hiking poles that must be made, camping trips that must be taken and swamps that must be canoed.

So what's the plan?

Get moved ASAP. Hopefully I can be living in North Carolina by the beginning of March. Once there, I'll get everything organized and then try to switch to a local or regional job. My company has tons of opportunities so it shouldn't be difficult. Once that's taken care of, I'm buying the canoe. Not a canoe, but THE canoe. The canoe that's going to take Tasha, Rocco and me down the Mississippi River. The canoe that's going to fulfill a dream. The canoe that just might set a Guinness record (I'll tell you about that one prior to departure).

But before the Mississippi Adventure, Tasha and I have another adventure lined up. South of the border, WAY south, in the mountains of Peru, lies Machu Picchu. We're going to hike the Inca Trail to the top and explore the once lost city. This will happen in 2011, but not exactly sure which month.

In other news, I picked up a friendly traveller while in New Mexico a few weeks ago. Mark was trying to get to San Diego for Christmas and having difficulty hitching along I-10. I found him at a truck stop about 40 miles from El Paso. After learning of his direction of travel, I offered him a ride and a safe place to crash for the night. Since I have bunk beds in my truck there was plenty of room. Talking with Mark brought back fond memories of my Walkabout. I learned a little about train hopping and next time I go wandering, I'll try out that mode of transportation.

If you're reading this Mark, take care and good luck on your travels.

I'm out for now. Have to look up some info on Peru...

Greetings From the Road

Well, I'm on the road again, though my mode of transportation is a bit different. I'm not sticking my thumb in the wind, waiting for a ride while smiling at every vehicle that passes. I'm driving around in a 77,000 pound tanker truck. A couple years ago, if someone had told me I'd one day be a trucker, I would have laughed at them. Now, I can see myself doing this for a while.

The job: Hauling a tank full of liquid for about a thousand miles and then pumping it out into a customer's tank while making sure that I don't burn myself with acid, inhale something poisonous, detonate a 45,000 pound bomb, or misfile the mound of paperwork that comes with it all.

The perks: I get to hang out in truck stops all over the country, face new challenges, sleep in a different state each night, work my own schedule, travel and earn some good money.

The drawbacks: One wrong move and the liquid sloshes too hard, rolling the truck over and not being home but one week out of the month.

But what's the real reason I'm a trucker? It all boils down to one word, the word that got me started on all this adventures tuff in the first place. WANDERLUST. I have to travel. I have to keep moving. If I don't I get antsy, and we all know what happens when I get antsy. I get moving. This job satisfies my wanderlust (at least for now). And the ability to take all my weekends at once will greatly help me out when it comes to shorter trips.

So why am I telling you this? Because, my change in career illustrates how a person can adapt and change his station to better suit his needs or desires. I was a graphic artist for almost fifteen years, a good run in a career by any standard. But I changed my source of income entirely, spending two months in trucking school and another 6 weeks in training with my employer. Why? Because it works for me.

If you're going to get what you want out of life, you have to be willing to let go of the things you no longer need. There's no such thing as a career, just a string of jobs in a related field. You're not tied to that field. If the day comes that another line of work would better serve your interests, then change your line of work. The idea that one must stick with it because they've invested a certain number of years just doesn't make sense.

The same goes for your home. So your kids have moved out and your house seems empty. So what if you have a lot of great memories in that house. Those memories will remain with you forever. Get a different house better suited to your current situation.

We must adapt in order to be happy. Life is constantly changing and parts of us, some of those details that make up our lives will have to change with it. Your life is a story, it's up to you to write it.

What will make you happy? What changes do you need to make in order to bring more joy to your life? What do you need to add? What do you need to leave behind?

Don't worry about leaving something behind. In the end, it's just a thing. And the world is full of things. Losing one makes room for another.