1st May 2020                                                    CDU Newsletter 649
 

Terry 0417 977 330

terry@canoeingdownunder.com.au (email)

https://canoeingdownunder.wordpress.com/  (website)

https://www.facebook.com/canoeingdownunder/ (facebook)

https://terrybolland.wordpress.com/ (trips & achievements)

Barkers Bridge & Return 7 days – 7 Times

Although I paddle 20-24 kilometres every day I thought I would do something more disciplined this week so I decided to race to Barkers Bridge and return against the clock every day for 7 days as well as doing a second less demanding session on the same day. The distance is 11.2 kms starting at the Ascot Kayak Club jetty heading upstream to turn around the Barkers Bridge. (West Swan Road Bridge). I don't usually do that many timed sessions but without the races and other paddlers to train with, I miss those hard sessions.

My first attempt I did a time of 1.03.15 and I thought I put a lot of effort in and I couldn't do any better, so even if I did do a little better I couldn't see me getting any faster than 1.03.00 on the other attempts. 

One week on I have not only achieved the 1.03.00, but on the 7th session I paddled to Barkers Bridge and return in 1.01.54, that’s an improvement of 1 minute 21 seconds in a week.

Conditions have varied. On Tuesday it was really windy and I managed to get to the bridge in 29.30 and arrived back it in 1.02.00. On Wednesday morning with little wind I was much slower going up and I reached the far side of the bridge in 30.32 and returned in a time of 1.01.54.

It's hard to say if I have got any fitter over the 7 days, but I think I put more effort in and was more determined to do well on those last sessions. My confidence in paddling at my strongest for 11.2 kms did increase though, the more sessions I did. And the latter sessions didn't feel such a chore to do. 

Some days its been windy, the tidal current has varied and on other days power boats have been a pain.

So my times over the 7 days have been: Thursday 1.03.15 – Friday 1.02.46 – Saturday 1.03.05 – Sunday 1.03.02 – Monday 1.02.23 – Tuesday 1.02.00 and Wednesday 1.01.54.

Due to getting older (nearly 70) and the fact that I have had 2 operations in the last two years I've expected a decline in my fitness. But I'm hoping I can hold onto my fitness that I had 4-5 years ago. If I can I will be a happy chappie.

 It will be interesting to see if I can improve any further without being in a race or washriding.

Has Died

It was sad news to hear that Roger French had died. Roger was from South Australia and the keenest C1 paddler in Australia competing in Sprint and Marathon. He encouraged and promoted C1 paddling throughout Australia. I think everyone who paddled C1 received a red shirt from him with 'Brothers of the One Blade' on it.

Although I have known of Roger for years it wasn't until last year in China that I really got to know who Roger was. He became very much part of the WA team, although he was from South Australia. Our WA team competed with him, ate a lot of strange food with him and went sight seeing with him. He was friendly, generous and dedicated to the sport of canoeing. 

Roger second left with Amanda Bowman, David Worthy, Ron Clarke, Paul Genovese and me, sight seeing in China.
 

Roger French was always happy when he was paddling a C1.  

Roger is a great loss to the sport of canoeing.

My condolences go out to his family and friends.

Dave Gardiner and his friend Les (pictured) heading up the Helena River.
Photo David Gardiner.
 

Geese at Point Reserve, Bassendean.

Viewing Birds on the Canning River
 

Ospreys. Photo Royd Bussell

Birdlife on the Canning. Photo Royd Bussel

This ruined jetty near the new Cygnet Cove housing development has had more pelicans, swans (and a few cormorants) than Royd has seen there in 20 years.

Josh Richards and Scott Lacklinson on Thursday morning.

Josh has only been paddling a year yet he is paddling extremely well. Scott has been paddling for 7 years and at the moment he is a little quicker than Josh.
Watch out Scott.
 

Nathan Jamieson heading to Barkers Bridge on Thursday.

 

Jane Dooley and Isabell Combe two ladies who are training hard.

 

Izzy has just bought a more unstable kayak but now, for some reason
she prefers swimming!!

A Few Memories with Josh Singleton

by Josh Singleton

In June/July 2008 was probably the most influential period of my paddling life. After finishing Kan fest I drove north to the North-West Territories, which hosts the North Pole, to a tiny remote town of Fort Smith on the banks of the Slave River. Originally founded as a township to assist boats to portage the four giant steps in the river which form Cassette, Pelican, Portage and Rapids of the Drowned. But now it's a paddler's paradise and easily my most favorite river in the world.

Just a small wave on the Slave River!! Photo Josh Singleton.
 

This is fun. Photo Josh Singleton.
 

Discussing their next move. Photo Josh Singleton.

Demo for sale - hardly used

In very good condition.

Price $2500.00

The Mississippi River Expedition continued

Part 7

 Burlington City 

Friday 10^th July.

I was up at 6.00am, had breakfast and Bill drove me back to my kayak taking a twisty scenic road on the way. I was packed and leaving the flooded boat ramp by 9.00am and reached the city of Madison 33kms away just as the railway bridge was being opened. As I paddled under it I could hear the clunk of the cogs, such an old bridge, but still working. A coffee shop was located just south of the bridge so I couldn’t help but call in and get out of the rain. I met Micky and Kirk inside who bought me a coffee. They said the bridge was one of the last operating swing bridges on the Mississippi River for vehicle traffic. The bridge was a double decker bridge design with the rail line on the lower level and the vehicles on the upper level. It has one of the longest swing sections in the world, being 525 feet.

We chatted for some time as the rain didn’t encourage me to go out and face the elements. The bridge, which has a toll opened and closed several times whilst I was watching from the comfort of the café. It would have been such a pain for the cars having to wait so long to allow the barge traffic through, but I’m sure the locals are used to it by now.

Saying goodbye to Bill.
 

The swing bridge opens to let the barge traffic go through.

The rain storm passed over so out I went and started paddling across a wide, windy river, in places it was 2.7kms wide. I kept crossing over from one side of the river to the other to paddle the shortest distance, but trying to keep an eye out for barges as I didn’t want to get tangled up with one. There were several barges waiting at Lock 19 at Keokuk but a man helped me to lift my kayak onto a pontoon and then onto the grass. I carried the kayak and the man took my gear on a motorised cart and although the portage was roughly 700 metres it turned out being an easy portage. In the early days there used to be some big rapids here which stopped boat traffic and anything that was needed to go up stream had to be unloaded and then loaded again upriver on the other side of the rapids. It was around 1900 when the first big lock was built here and large boats could go upstream.

I grabbed some water from a water fountain, ate a bun and cheese and was off on a narrower 1.3km section of river. There was a barge about 600 metres behind so I moved across the river to get out of its way. It honked his horn and because he was so far behind I decided to cross the river again to straighten my path and it honked again, although it was still a long way behind. It took it ages to catch up and by then there was a barge coming the other way so I stopped to take a picture of the barges and the sunset. Both barges passed and as it was getting dark and at the same time I saw a clear site on the levy bank so I decided to camp as a most brilliant sun set was taking place.

Barge traffic move up and down the Mississippi 24 hours a day.
 

I had a great view of the river and at night I could watch the barges passing with their spot lights searching and hear insects and the chug of the tow boat engines up and down the river. It was quite a soothing sound. The darkness silhouetted the island across from me. Later the moon came up. I paddled 95 kms for the day.

Saturday 11^th July

It was a beautiful sunrise and barges were still on the move. The lock was just over two kilometres away so it didn’t take me long getting there, although a barge was waiting before me. The lock keeper told me there was a canal 100 metres or to the west so I portaged over and paddled the canal which led out into the river just downstream of the lock. It was probably one of my easier portages.

There was a campsite just downstream of the lock but much of it was under water. I passed Canton then La Grange and I felt like stopping, but it didn’t look big enough to buy the things I needed. The town of Quincy was 14kms away. Beneath the railway bridge there were small rapids and a lot of turbulent due to the fast water hitting the pylons.

There was nothing inspiring I could see from the water about the town so I kept paddling to lock 21 not far downstream. This lock had a spillway so I decided to try to paddle over it instead of waiting for my turn in the lock. The water was high, so there was just enough water running over the spillway creating small rapids for me to give it a go. There were some anxious moments negotiating my way over, but it was well worth it, I saved lots of time.

Further downstream I met two guys in a dingy who were stuck in the trees trying to get to their shack which was underwater. At least it was on stilts. They managed to get free and I left.  It was windy and not in my favour.

Barges being pushed by towboats passed my campsite.
 

One of the flooded homes. Luckily it was on stilts.

I passed under a rail bridge and the Mark Twain Memorial Bridge and arrived at Hannibal. Mark Twain (pen name) was an American writer, humourist, entrepreneur, publisher and lecturer but he was best known for his novels – The Adventures of Tom Sayer, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and the Great American Novel. Twain was raised in Hannibal, Missouri.

I pulled in at the boat harbour and a man on a boat called ‘Another Chance’ shouted me over. I wondered what I had done or was I allowed here. He said, anyone who has paddled from Itasca deserves a drink. We chatted for a while and then I walked in town to the hardware store. Back at the boat we had coffee and chatted more. Don’t go down the Lower Mississippi River, he said. The river isn’t tame and you will need a gun. Before leaving, having been given some dried fruit and two tins of fruit a mechanic came on board, as their boat had broken down.

 I left battling the wind to Lock 22 where I had to wait until 3 barges had gone through. Towboats pushing a big pod of barges have to be broken up into two as a big pod won’t fit in the lock, so it takes them twice as long to get the barges through. Further downstream I met 2 men and a woman in a boat. As we chatted the boat ‘Another Chance’ motored by with Bob waving from the cabin.  They gave me a beer and I was soon chasing Bob down the river. 

It was another beautiful sunset and just upstream and opposite of the town of Louisiana I pulled into the Two Rivers Marina and Bob was there. I was introduced to several other people and was given a stretcher bed to sleep on. They fed me steak followed by apple and strawberry pie followed up with 2 beers and a cup of coffee. I was also provided with a towel and a hot shower. I camped under shelter and wrote until 1.00am.

Two men at the Two Rivers Marina are there to see me off.

Sunday 12^th July.

I was up at 6.00am so was Bob who had the coffee brewing. We talked and he still tried to convince me not to paddle Lower Mississippi because he thought it was too dangerous. A man with Parkinsons and another friend came over and joined in with our conversation.

By the time I was ready to go more of the crowd I met last night came to see me leave. I said thanks and goodbye and moved out of the harbour waving. Straight away there were swirls in the river to push me around. As I moved under a road bridge the town of Louisiana came into view on my right side. From where I was sitting the town front looked a little industrial.  

At Clarksville, lock 24 I decided to portage rather than wait until the barges went through. However there was a rock wall and a fence around the dam so I wasn’t sure how the portage would go. It was a tough climb up the wall and as I didn’t take my fresh water out of the kayak it was heavy to lift. It was hard yakker and a long walk but it had to be done. I managed to make 5 phone calls here and had a chat with a wildlife officer.

I arrived at the small locality of Hamburg, jumped out at the boat ramp, not far from a small wooden white church and drank coffee. The current downstream was swift but it was hard stopping myself from nodding off despite drinking coffee. Twenty seven kilometres further I arrived at lock 25 and again I decided to portage. The same barge I had seen at lock 24 was waiting to go into this lock. I had a word with a man in a power boat who was going up the Ohio River and he reckoned the lower Mississippi was great and there was no reason why I shouldn’t paddle it.

There was a canal/lake only 80 metres away which avoided the lock so it was easier for me to portage across to it rather than portage the entire lock and I was back in the water no time. As I was moving through the canal I saw some people kayaking which was the first time since the second day of the trip so I went over for a chat. Kevin Dempsey was teaching 2 of the 5 other paddlers how to roll. They seemed to be going okay. We chatted for a while. He gave me some gaffa tape and a snickers bar and we arranged to meet in St Louis. I left Kevin and gang and moved out of the cove passing motor boaters hanging around. Once in the river the turbulence and the wash from the boats flip-flopped me around. As usual the boats whizzing either side of me didn’t care that their wash was making me tippy.

I meet a group of paddlers near a lock doing skill practise.

A ferry was crossing the river as two huge power boats motored by. With a 126 kilometre section between bridges a couple of ferries operated which would save vehicles driving miles out of their way to get across the river.

I followed the wide river in a big U turn getting good views of limestone cliffs and being thrown around by the wind waves. At the Golden Eagle ferry crossing two jet skiers stopped to ask me what I was doing and telling me I had guts being out there in the rough conditions. As they left one ski got hooked up onto my rudder and nearly took me with him. I shot off looking for picnic areas to camp but only found people’s back yards that were under water.   

As the sun was getting lower in the sky I asked a power boat person if there was a marina around. He suggested paddling up the Illinois River but I didn’t fancy paddling 9 kilometres against the current and have to paddle 9 kilometres back. I hugged the shore and looked for a place and then spotted some people at a saloon bar at the east end of Grafton so I thought I would stop and ask. I must have looked like a scarecrow in my wet paddling gear and with black hands created by the dye leaching from my new gloves that I bought in Hannibal. I looked a mess and I felt a mess.

A towboat pushing 18 barges.

I disembarked at the flooded river’s edge to ask the people underneath the veranda if I could camp there. They turned out being bikies. Yes you can camp here Bob said, the owner is a mate of mine. You’ll be alright mate. Mozzies are bad, but you can have some repellent, they will keep them away.

I had no fears about being with the bikies, but I did wonder if they were telling the truth. When is a friend a friend? One of the women slurred, “the mozzies are a bit thick love.” "Here let me put some cream on you", it will keep them away. Before I could answer the woman was putting cream on my neck and face. ‘Do you want a drink?” “Would you like some food?” I said yes please to both. Minutes later a beer appeared.

All five of them began questioning me simultaneously. They continued talking to me and they seemed to be genuinely interested in my trip. I was trying to be polite and answer all their questions but I really just wanted to strip off my wet clothes and get dry. I was taken back when they asked me if we had niggers in Australia.

As I started to change into dry clothes the women started chanting, “lets have a look at your bum.” I didn’t want to cause a riot so I changed very discretely. The female cook came down with some left-over food and then gave me a kiss and a hug. Another beer followed, so by the time I had downed it, I was feeling full and a little tipsy.

When I was all dry and warm I moved upstairs into the bar to ring Kevin, the paddler I had met earlier, but I only got his answer phone. As I was having a beer at the bar the cook came over and was chatty and friendly, friendly. I soon moved back downstairs to find the bikie mob had gone leaving me to quietly sit and look at the water and finish my beer, write my diary and watch a black Labrador dog keep walking into the river.

A little later the owner came down to say hello. Now I felt better about staying, so I erected the tent on the timber planks under the deck. Customers were still arriving late into the night and I nodded off to the sound of music.

I slept under the veranda at the back of the pub.