I had forgotten how loud nature can be. I’ve had quieter nights in my camper van parked on the streets of Brooklyn. In fact, last night might’ve been louder than all but a few that I’ve had over the past year living in my van.
Between the constant hum of mosquitoes and the irregular barking of god knows what animal all night, I desperately needed my ear plugs.
Unfortunately my ear plugs were in a bag I had left at the kayak, maybe several hundred feet away. Several hundred feet may not seem like that big of a deal, but that would’ve required me to change back into long pants, long sleeve shirt, and closed toed shoes.
Why’s that?
Well I was worried about brushing into poison oak/ivy throughout the overgrown campsite. But I was also worried about running into more ticks. I’ve already found 4 of them, two on me, two in my tent (which were probably crawling on the bags I brought into the tent with me).
By now you might be thinking, surely this guy must be miserable.
But I’m feeling quite the opposite.
Today proved to be one of the very most adventurous days of my life.
This was no Huckleberry Finn float down the Mississippi. This isn’t the dark brown Mississippi you’ve seen from the side of the road littered with barges on both sides.
I was in and out of the kayak constantly throughout the first half of the day. In the beginning I was walking, much like the start of yesterday. But then within a couple miles I was traversing a series of log jams, class 1 rapids, and more log jams.
This was a different River than just the day before. The River felt wild, like the creeks and streams I had crossed out west along Pacific Crest Trail. The water was clear and teeming with wild life.
I could see the fish scatter below. Ducks scurried away as I made the blind turn. I even saw an otter (maybe a beaver?), a couple families of deer, and one turtle.
By the second half of the day the River changed again. Now it felt more like an irrigation ditch in the middle of Kansas. The vegetation was so high, I didn’t see much above it for the rest of the day.
Today I about tripled my distance, a still slowing going 15 miles. The River is constantly bending back and forth. I feel very fortunate now in hindsight that I purchased a 12ft kayak. Anything longer than that would be a real struggle to make the turns over and over and over again.
By 4 I reached the perfect campsite (Coffee Pot Landing). There were two shelters, one had a pinic table, the other was empty with enough clearing for a tent.
The surrounding area is clearly maintained and there was even a trash can.
The trouble was, there was a beer in the trash can, and it’s Friday night. Rather than risk being welcomed unexpectedly by some late night locals on a summer Friday night, I made dinner then packed back up and was on the water again by 6.
It’s always a gamble when you walk away from a sure thing. And I almost paid a high price.
I felt comfortable leaving because on the map it appeared there was a canoe camp site just a mile or so ahead (Brownie). But I never found it.
The sun kept getting noticeably lower every time I’d look up.
6 became 7 and 7 became 8. This stretch of River was flanked by dense vegetation on both sides with no obvious place whatsoever to pull over. If I did it would be like trying to pull a kayak into a cornfield and then set up a tent top of the corn stalks while your feet sink 6 inches into the mud below.
I was past the point of no return and just had to make due with whatever I could find before the sun set.
And man, was I lucky.
Around 8:30 I noticed a break in the geography above the vegetation. There was a walkable cliff with some pines above. I was able to pull my kayak out of the water into the reeds and hike up the slope to find a literal perfect clearing to make camp for the night.
It was a great day, couldn’t have planned it better if I tried.
