The Big River Show

These picturesque days flow lazily into gorgeous sunsets. Each morning greets us with birds and insects making the most of their day. We make our own schedule as our mood suits us. We decided yesterday that we should stop for 3 minutes every hour just to jump into the lake from our roof.

“How lucky,” you might remark to yourself or to us. Yes, lucky for sure. “How fun,” you may say aloud. And indeed you are right. This is fun. And while it is fun it is sometimes hard work. And while it is fun it is also tiresome and wearing. Imagine going to the beach. How fun– sitting in the sun, swimming in the waves. Now, in your mind, stay overnight at the beach and wake up the next day–to repeat yesterdays activities… is it still fun? Well of course some of it is… the waves still splash marvelously ashore and the sun is still invigorating (as long as you don’t get too much of it) but now the sand makes itself a home in places you’d rather it avoided and you may find yourself day dreaming about a proper shower with shampoo and how $15 wouldn’t be outrageous to pay for such a luxury. Some of what makes fun- fun, is it’s novelty. And while Bill and I have been on a quest for “newness” to both film and experience, there are some tasks and sights that are becoming quotidian to us. It’s no big deal, to get ourselves back in the moment one of us has only to look at the other and ask in an incredulous tone “Is this our life?”

As we make our way down stream, we meet, film and edit people and experiences down to a three minute segment that we find interesting. And we know why we included certain bits and why we excluded others. We have a story to tell and some shots or ideas don’t fit our parameters… do you all see where I’m going with this idea?

At any rate I’m glad to see us from the outside-outside instead of from one of our carefully crafted numbers. It’s also pretty neat to know that we are reaching different audience than usual.

From a distance their boat looks a bit like our own, or at least how we perceive ours to look. As we got closer we saw more similarities than just the shape.
Nate and Dave took off from Davenport a week later than us and have floated most of the way, though they have a 9.9 horse motor. They built theirs in Colorado from scratch out of steel and plywood. Their pontoons are 30 gal. plastic barrels strapped on with metal bands. They have hinged screens all around their cabin that they have sealed closed with tape to prevent mosquitoes from seeping in through the cracks. A solar panel runs power to two batteries which work their cabin lights and running lights. A simple camp stove sits on a counter with their sink and for dishes they have a set of tin plates on long-term-borrow from a mexican eatery.

It’s not that we have the same background or aesthetic that brings us to these points of similarity, it’s that the environment plays us like an instrument. A pontoon is the cheapest, easiest and roomiest thing a novice can reasonably build or work on. A stove is necessary and the camping industry has created a plethora of compact and affordable designs. Each item and its placement was chosen for a combination of factors, and those factors limit the possibilities. So I believe that while we have free will, as humans we also have similar needs and similar resources to get those needs met. Also they are some really cool guys and we are some really cool guys so that most of the similarity right there.

Bill now has that settled look about him, still playful but unwavering. Positions are posed as interrogatives: “Are you sure you want to be this close to shore with all the mosquitoes?” “Sure, but doesn’t the idea of being so close to the channel with all the barges and wake bother you?”

Both options have pros and cons. Both proponents can be stubborn and gracious. On the night of the storm, the terrain dictated that a medium distance from the beach was suitable. If the channel were closer, beaching the craft would be more stable; if the clouds didn’t threaten as much, further out would be more acceptable.

I am glad that Bill won because there is no way to safely move this craft in severe weather. These results will not be used as a post-hoc analysis the next time we debate our camping spot; both of us are pretty good about playing fair. But we each have assimilated this new information about how bad a storm can be, and the next time the clouds threaten in the evening you might find us a bit closer to shore.

You know how the second half of an adventure or task seems shorter than the first half? It’s not feeling like that now for Bill and me.

Now that we have crossed into the Lower Mississippi we are feeling like the halfway has been crossed. In terms of miles we’re not at half and in terms of time we are about 2 1/2 weeks behind. But in terms of phase, this is definitely second phase. No more locks and dams, no more big cities to visit with names that we all recognize, and until we make it to the Tenn-Tom - there are no more gas stations on the waterfront. Our capacity for fuel is about 250 miles which should just about get us to the next station. If we really run into dire straits we will float and reserve a few gallons to get us out of a jam.

We don’t really know what to expect. I’m okay with that. It feels like more adventure for your money/time. If I had to plan an adventure for a friend I would try to make it like this one so the second part doesn’t disappoint.