When we started the trip, I listed my items by which bag they were going to live in. Unsurprisingly, none of that careful organization lasted more than a few hours! Leah and I immediately began off-loading things to her parents, shifting which items were in which bag, even shifting whose belongings we each carried. At every visit with family or friends after the start, we off-loaded more items. We also lost a fair amount of items along the way, sometimes replacing them and sometimes not. By my tally, 31% of my packing list didn’t make it to the end of the trip.
And so to celebrate that fact, this installment of the trip log is anchored by the objects present at the end.
Water Proof Playing Cards | Day 51, Sept 20, Saturday
The waterproof playing cards definitely earned their spot in the dry bag. We’ve pulled them out for lunch breaks, lock waits, and now for fireside fun with my uncle and cousin, who camped with us on the other side of Greenville.
Everyone played a part in camp set-up. Arya and I gathered firewood, while Leah filled the water jugs and handled other boat resupply tasks. Daniel set up the tent and cooked dinner. Chicken tikka masala has never tasted better! After dinner, we played outdoor games — hide and seek, race tag, red light green light, Simon Says — until the light faded. Then we circled around the fire and played a few rounds of hearts, spades, Go Fish, and poker. After smore’s, we made it to bed just before midnight.
We’ll keep the cards close, a reminder that this trip, like any good game, is best played together.
The Journal | Day 52-53, September 21-22, Monday and Tuesday
Memory and memory making are important to me. From past travel experiences, I know that my surest path to remembering a journey is to keep a daily log. And so I brought this small blue journal along for our river trip. In it, I tried to keep track of our campsite, activities, weather, wildlife, and all the little moments that might otherwise slip away—what we ate for lunch, who we met, how the river sounded that morning. Those notes become a kind of anchor, something steady to return to when days blurred together.
But the days leading up to Natchez left little room for reflection. When planning our trip, we’d counted on faster river flow to help us make our return-to-work deadlines. But it was a low water year, and we were left paddling dark-to-dark to make our daily mile goal. Those last few days of the trip, every minute seemed claimed by paddling, camp setup, and sleep. By the time we stopped, we were too tired to write.
Now, looking back, the gap in the journal feels like a fogged window. I can vaguely recall passing Vicksburg, catching the first reliable cell signal we’d had since New Madrid, and maybe a stretch of calm water that didn’t seem to match the urgency of the day. Beyond that, it’s blank space. I want to have something poignant to say about living in the moment, or letting go of perfect completion, but I don’t. Whatever happened those two days is lost to me, but I’m sure it involved paddling!
Party Pucks | Day 54, September 23, Tuesday
The party pucks — our bright orange navigation lights — did their best, but tonight they gave their last blink.
Pictured below are the new and improved pucks— warning, the video contains flashing lights.
We spent our 54th day struggling to reach Natchez before dark. At first, we seemed ahead of schedule! Then we got separated by a string of barges, several of which were pulling over out of channel. Soon enough, we understood why: Just as we came back together, an afternoon thunderstorm storm rolled in. Wind pushed waves against us, and for thirty minutes the river turned into chaos. We were caught between barges and river bank too steep to stop. Leah’s boat, tippy on a good day, almost went over twice, getting so deep in the waves that the water in her boat came up to her knees (shout out to Emily and Justin for boat flipping practice before the trip - it was helpful for knowing how to brace with a boat full of water)
When the storm finally passed, we paddled through the dark to Natchez. The city is still a busy port, and we needed to cross the channel without any lights to warn larger boats of our presence. Fortunately, Mike became a beacon on the boat ramp, shining a flashlight and calling out support. With our lights flickering and our nerves frayed, we finally made it safely to the Mark Twain Guest House above Under the Hill Saloon. While we showered and regrouped, Mike went on a mission to replace the pucks.
While he was out, a local river angel named Peggy came by with yogurt, fruit, salmon, bread, and a thoughtful river-themed gift. Mike returned triumphant with new, water-resistant flares. We ended the day tired but safe, with new pucks and good people to thank for both.
Excel Spreadsheets | Day 55, September 24, Wednesday
Excel spreadsheets are the tool we reach for most on this trip. The public version of our prep sheet remains available here, but the private version that it’s based on has ballooned in size over the course of the trip. One of the newer tabs added holds our Pugh charts. Pugh charts help their users evaluate multiple options against a standard criteria. They were developed at Unilever Research Laboratory in the 1960s by one Mr. Stuart Pugh.
With the trip drawing to a close, we needed to decide how we were going to end the experience together. At lunch, we pulled over to a sandbar and laid out our chart, weighing options, debating routes. A version of our chart is shown above to demonstrate how they work. Placeholders for our options are on the left and decision-making priorities are along the top. The red cells were the weights we ascribe to each priority, and the white cells denote whether we think a given option fulfills, exceeds, or falls short of a priorities’ goal. The grey cells to the right are the option’s weighted score, and the green row is the option we decided on. It was the highest scoring option still feasible at that phase in the trip.
Some options were included as controls to check that our priorities were accurate. For example, #6 is a placeholder for ‘keep paddling forever!’ When our first version of the Pugh chart returned eternal paddling as the best option, that didn’t resonate with us. We realized our initial list of priorities and weights wasn’t capturing how we really felt, so we began to readjust the weights and add a few new criteria. I hadn’t used these matrixes before the trip, but I enjoyed the process of iterative weighting. We plan, we rank, we choose — and then the river confirms whether we were right.
With a decision made about the finale, we paddled on into an afternoon full of storms. At one point, we did pull over to shelter from lightning, but we largely paddled through the rain. We once again paddled through the night to reach our mileage goal, dodging barges left and right. Our new pucks flashed red, like the channel markers, and we worried barges were being drawn toward us in confusion. Worn out from the day, we decided to have dinner before collapsing to bed.
Locks and Dams | Day 56, September 25, Thursday
We like to celebrate ‘final’ markers. For example, our final portage (we thought) took place at Chain of Rocks near Alton, MO. On the morning of day 56, we were gearing up to celebrate our ‘final’ lock and dam onto the Atchafalaya exit.
We left camp wet and hopeful, with low mist hanging over the water. The turnoff to the lock was narrow, half-blocked by a dredger, but we made it across the channel in time. When we were well-within the exit, we stopped to call the lock to request passage.
Oops.
Apparently, we’d missed a navigational notice- the lock was closed until 7pm that day! We glanced at each other with horror. We didn’t have an entire day to spare waiting on the lock.
The lockmaster was out, but the men manning the dam took pity on us. They let us approach and take out at the lock’s boat ramp while they tried to find a solution.
The options were:
#1, wait for a survey boat, about 45 minutes out, and lock through after them…1 OR
#2, wait for a group of corp employees, also about 45 minutes out, and use their trailer to portage.
We decided to have lunch while we waited and choose whichever option materialized first, which turned out to be the portage. This was my favorite portage of the entire trip. The men backed their trailer into the water and we paddled right on, just like a real boat! They drove us around and we slid off again, never having to remove our bags from boats. Portaging in style!
On the other side of the dam, we saw where we would’ve paddled (low, muddy, and likely requiring a manual portage) had we not waited, and then we started the canal to the Atch. Along the canal, we saw several salvage tugs and boxes, including one being actively torn apart in a dry dock. One of the salvage workers offered us water and gave navigational advice. As we exited the canal, Leah saw three gators. I was not amused, but the Atch itself was really pretty.
Since we didn’t have a designated campsite for our first night on the Atchafalaya, we decided to stop at sunset. Our chosen spot was about 6 miles above Melville. We called it life on the ledge, in honor of its steep bank. We set our tents in the most level place we could, shifting sand in an attempt not to roll away in our sleep.
Alligator Bait | Day 57, September 26, Friday
Alligator Bait — Alli, for short — joined the trip today.
One of the things we’ve been tracking throughout the journey are the total number of resupplies. A resupply is anything given to or purchased by us that then gets placed in the boats. Eg, someone handing us Gatorade while we paddle = technically a resupply. A meal at a restaurant without any left overs? Not a resupply.
Some might accuse us of artificially inflating the resupply counter. They wouldn’t be… entirely wrong. But Alli is my favorite resupply yet. Probably Leah’s, too.
We picked her up at the Melville boat ramp, where we stopped to toss trash. I couldn't find a public trash can, so I asked the residents of a nearby camper where to find one. They weren’t sure, but generously let me come into their campsite to deposit our overflowing bags in their private can. While I walked across their site, a pack of puppies materialized at my heels. When I bent down to pet the bravest of the bunch, the campers ask if I wanted one (you can see where this is going, but you’re wrong). Remembering my promise to my husband to never come home with another living being unannounced, I (politely and responsibly) said no. However, I never promised not to cajole my friends into doing so!
Returning to Leah at the boats, I told her of our opportunity for a resupply… If she wanted a dog. I fully expected her to say no. I was not expecting her mental accounting to come out to “eh, it’s now or never.” With some light encouragement, we were back up at the top to pick her new puppy.
She waffled over which would have the honor of joining our expedition (and what problems to expect down the road), ultimately picking the sweetest of the bunch. After lots of belly rubs, meeting the parents, and accepting a gallon of dog food and flea and tick from the campers, we were on our way.
Though she’d grown up around the water, we think day 57 was Alli’s first experience in a boat. She was surprisingly chill with motor boat wake and loud noises, soon settling in to life on the river. Given that she was about 8 weeks old, we joked that she was destined to join our expedition. She would have been born just as we were starting in Itasca. Fate being what it may, Alli spent the rest of her first afternoon digging her way deeper into Leah’s boat, finding a cool place to lay on top of the water bottles.
We ended the night camped under the I-10 bridge, the hum of traffic running steady above us. Alli curled up in a corner of the tent on Leah’s head, already part of the group.
3 Mostly Full Bottles of Sunscreen | Day 58, September 27, Saturday
The I-10 bridge quickly became my least favorite campsite of the trip, through no fault of its own. Shortly after midnight, I awoke chilly and covered in mosquitos. My tent door had burst completely open! The zipper was not going to be fixed in the dark, so I made a makeshift door with my rainfly and texted Leah, begging for an early start if she woke up in the night. With her phone on airplane mode, she didn’t get my messages until the morning.
Our penultimate day was particularly difficult. We were under slept, behind schedule, and struggling to stay hopeful. I was overwrought and wanted nothing more than to stop paddling. Leah, with the end in sight, kept us moving toward our goal. Her efforts were bolstered by the generosity of several Cajun locals we met along the way. Each group we interacted with lifted my spirits and reminded me that the trip, however hard in the moment, had been a good experience.
Jourdan Thibodeaux and his partner were the first we met. Slipping between English and French, they were very interested in Leah’s wooden boat and puppy. They told us about their work leading gator hunting tours, and Jourdan’s success as a musician. Their energy was contagious, and we paddled on in slightly better spirits than we started with.
Later that same day, a group of 5 let us take a break off river in their hunting camp. They were familiar with paddlers and the river, generously plying us with ice water and a Walmart bag full of snacks. When they heard we had run out of sunscreen, it wasn’t enough to give us the can in their boat— they ran into the house to find THREE nearly full cans. We only had a day of paddling left! Their open-handed hospitality was humbling. I think we used the word ‘heartening’ about 20 times to describe the experience of interacting with those men! Of all the things we carried that day, it’s the sunscreen—and the spirit behind it—I’ll remember most.
We continued on, paddling through the night to our final campsite. A strong tail wind helped us across 6-mile-lake, and so we arrived around 1:15 in the morning. Sharing Leah’s tent, we were asleep by 2 am.
Our final trip installment will be out this Friday. In the meantime, our fundraiser is still open! Help us continue to raise money for these amazing charities by donating below.
More pictures from this stretch:
We saw what we think was the survey boat on the Atchafalaya, many hours later. We were very glad we weren’t counting on it!