My boat is in the water and I’m headed north to New Orleans…
Thanks to my new friend Dave from Park Rapids, I was able to drive my van about 800ft from the start of the Mississippi River. In the parking lot I unloaded my gear. And with the help of a few friendly strangers who were willing to do the heavy lifting I was able to set sail before noon.
Some of you may be wondering what happens to the van. It is my home after all.
Now Dave could just drive off to Mexico in my van and start a new life down there, but something tells me after nearly 50 years in Park Rapids, he won’t be leaving any time soon.
That’s where Dave comes in. He was kind enough to come with me and drive my van back to storage, which I had only arranged less than 24 hours earlier by googling “rv storage” near Lake Itasca.
Between the parking lot and the start I got to chatting with a few friendly faces along the way. Notably among them, Tom, made an impromptu announcement to the crowd surrounding the river monument about my departure.
So thank you Tom, and all that were there to see me off with words of encouragement.
What I’ve come to love about these adventures are the people I meet along the way. As paradoxical as it may seem, I never have more conversations with strangers than when I’m alone.
Now strangers don’t often start a conversation with me out of the blue just because I’m standing there like a lump on a log. But when I’ve got a bicycle with panniers, or I’m carrying a 50lb bag fit for the backcountry, or I’m dragging a bright yellow kayak loaded up like a Chevy Tahoe, strangers will ask questions. This usually leads to more questions. Plus, I usually have a few of my own.
And more often than not, if there’s something they can do to help, they will.
Last night for example, Caitlin, the bartender up in Bemidji comped my meal. Thank you Caitlin.
And ten years ago there was Rusty from eastern Kentucky who put my bike in the back of his pick up truck during a 24 hour downpour and drove me to Arbys.
I’ve even been helped my people I’ve never met, like the guy in Missouri who let me stay in his cabin because I was cycling across the U.S.
There’s so many people I can’t forget, like the man or woman who left that cold Gatorade on the side of the road for me in Idaho in the literal middle of nowhere. I never even saw their car, only a handwritten note, “rock on cyclist.”
Last night Caitlin asked me what I’m hoping to get out of this adventure.
And I really didn’t have a good answer.
I still don’t.
Why now? Why not five years ago or five years from now.
What am I hoping to get out of this adventure?
This old idea only came back to me Memorial Day weekend this year. I’ve only owned this kayak for a little over a month. Before that I’ve maybe ridden in a canoe and kayak once or twice.
But after spending the last six months in Seattle renovating a home all by myself maybe I’m just starved for a little authentic human connection and a good old fashioned adventure.
And boy did this adventure escalate quickly.
