Since the beginning of the trip, I have visualized St. Louis as a great day of paddling with people, enjoying the art, people along the Riverwalk, waving and smiling, and taking a half day off to enjoy the sites and sounds of St. Louis.
The day was not exactly as expected.
It started out paddling up to lock #26 assuming that it was the very last lock I was paddle into, then realizing that lock #27 at the chain of rocks just above St. Louis was actually the last lock that I had to go through. Paddling over the chain of rocks has been done, but not at these water levels, and I needed to use the lock for safety reasons.
I ran into a couple of jet skiers below #26 who had remarkably done 13,000 miles exploring the rivers in the Delta’s off of the Mississippi, Missouri, Ohio, and Illinois rivers and clearly had as much organization and planning as I did because they had everything on their boats organized and stored efficiently, including spare fuel, all the camping gear & necessities designed for easy access. I had a pleasant conversation with them, exchanged information, and then continued on to head down river towards lock #27, also known as the chain of rocks.
Lock #27 has a large sign with a big blue arrow pointing left into a channel, 100’ wide with rap rock on both sides about 20’ tall to protect against erosion and about 7.5 miles long with virtually zero current. I hit the lock about noon with sunny skies and virtually no wind. Just as I finished the 7.5-mile grind, I was passed by the large barge usually indicating a long wait ahead like normal. I was glad I had extra water for the wait but was surprised when the lock operator said they had two locks and I was clear to enter the smaller lock. The lock master was the only one with a bad attitude out of all 27 locks. He told me that the river was running high and that I should take the next 5 to 10 days off to let it go back down to be able to paddle and navigate that section safely. He told me that the tugboats wouldn’t be able to see me and that it was incredibly dangerous, etc. My gut feeling is he didn’t know the capabilities of my boat or the paddler.
As the lock opened, I got to see the combined power of the Illinois River and the Mississippi River! As I ventured into the main channel, it was clear that it was at a very high stage of flooding as there was debris everywhere, and it instantly became combat paddling, which I actually thoroughly enjoyed because being somewhat nimble, it was like playing Frogger between gigantic trees, tugboats, barges, and other floating debris for about 15 or 20 miles down the river. When I saw the arch, it was all I could do to grab a photo or two, and there was zero chance of stopping to enjoy the crowds, the arch, or any of the amenities that St. Louis had to offer on this great holiday as the combat paddling just increased the closer I got to the arch. Once I was clear of the arch, the barges lined both sides of the river, sometimes 60 barges long and 3 barges wide with huge piles of debris smashing into the leading edge of the barges. I used extreme caution to avoid the currents in these areas as the strainers would be absolutely deadly in any size boat. About 15 miles south of the arch, I realized I was running out of water, getting incredibly dehydrated, and started searching Google Maps and found a small boat repair shop that was closed for the day but I could access on the side of the river. I walked up the concrete boat ramp; I realized it was actually a repair shop for barges and tugboats, and the only thing that was accessible was a random ice machine on the outside of the building. I’m sure they supplied the tugboat crews and employees headed out onto the river. I left a five-dollar bill inside the ice machine, and I’m sure someone on Monday is going to wonder why it’s there and absolutely enjoy a five-dollar bill, but I did take a bag of ice, so I wanted to pay for it. I sat on the concrete ramp putting ice back into my water bags and hydration packet and continued down the river looking for a place to stay for the night.
I eventually stopped at Kimmswick, which is a very small town like many others along the river that lost its importance. Once the larger cruise ships started bypassing it, the town just went to sleep. It had 1 hotel and two restaurants. The hotel only had two rooms and was already booked for the weekend. The restaurants closed at 6pm and all the businesses were shut down and closed until Tuesday . I knocked on a random homeowner’s door asking if I could leave my boat in the front yard while I made the 3-mile walk to the nearest gas station to grab hydration and snacks for the next day. After a quick 6-mile walk, I looked for a place to camp. This is the second time on my trip that I’ve had to sleep next to a sewer processing plant, but in the city of Kimmswick, it was the only place that had a little bit of grass and a couple of trees for my hammock.
As I settled into the night, I realized that my 12-hour day of paddling, heavy lathering of sunscreen, followed by an additional lathering of bug spray had me feeling like I did back in the infantry after a couple of weeks in the field. I lay in my tent, sticking to myself and stewing in my own grime, not even wanting to use a sleeping bag because it’s Sams and I didn’t want to ruin it. Thinking back on it, Sams sleeping bag is a regular-length bag and has been the bane of my existence on this entire trip. I should ruin it and then just replace it with a long sleeping bag for people over 6 feet tall as trying to get inside it is virtually impossible.
Dozing off to sleep, I realized the time that I missed celebrating in St. Louis and the halfway point of my trip has been made up for 100 times over visiting all the small towns and amazing people along the way. Those towns and people are probably much more of a highlight than St. Louis would’ve been.
Let’s see what tomorrow has to offer.
