8th May 2020                                             CDU Newsletter 650
 

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)

This is my 650th Newsletter but rather than celebrating I am sad to say that our friend Adrian Quick lost his life when he was hit by a vehicle whilst cycling.

I have known Adrian since he started paddling, as a customer, as a friend, as an Ascot Kayak Club member and as part of the Canoeing Down Under team.

The team at CDU had lots of fun with Adrian which we will never forget.

It's my regret that I hadn't seen Adrian for some time since he did less paddling and more cycling and spending time with his family.
 

 

CDU team members Josh Kippin, Alaine Davin and Adrian Quick at our
Saturday morning training and demo morning.

Our team members were - Alaine Davin, T2 Terry Brooke, Steve Pilton, Sam Pilton, Josh Kippin, Erin Myers, Natalie De Bono, Ben Pope, Guy Power and Tess Watson. 
 

Adrian and Alaine at the river.

Adrian was full of fun which made our time working with him very special.
 

Adrian playing golf at a Canoeing Down Under Christmas party.

All the staff surprised me by wearing shirts of my opposition stores.
 

Adrian, Marcus and T2 (Terry Brooke) before a race.

T2 was a Canoeing Down Under team member who knew Adrian very well.
 

Adrian loved his paddling.

Members of the Progressive Racing Group heading to Barkers Bridge.

Thursday night.
 

Jane Dooley and Mark Sedgwick.
 

Jane Dooley.
 

Steve Myers and Grant Pepper on the river on stormy Wednesday morning.

I remember when Steve started paddling whitewater. He was paddling a 415 plastic kayak and he was adventurous from the beginning. He has paddled several Avon Descents, he is a play boater and loves big water, he has been to Alaska to climb Mt Denali the highest mountain peak in North America and done several other climbing and paddling expeditions overseas.

When Grant came onto the paddling scene in 1997 he paddled his first Avon Descent in a 415 kayak but it wasn’t long before he became a tough competitor in faster craft. Although he still paddles the last 10 years or so he has focused more on adventurous activities and got hooked on Adventure Races that last over a week. He has been to many countries competing in Adventure Races. He has also been an organiser of races and the President of the Ascot Kayak Club.

Steve chasing Josh Kippin in an Avon Descent when they were both much younger.
 

Grant and Steve were partners in an Avon Descent.
 

Jo Ward and Julie McDonald on the water last Sunday. 
Jo and Julie are keen members of the Progressive Racing Group but since the lock-down it's been hard to paddle with the group.
​​​​​​​ 

Tom Canavan on Thursday morning.

A Paddle On the Wild Side.
The day of the storm

It was windy outside but it didn’t look too bad at 4.30pm despite the storm warnings, so what else is there to do at this time of day, but to go paddling. It was a difficult task just carrying my kayak across the road to the river. The wind gusted, caught the kayak and I was blown in a circle.  Nevertheless I managed to walk down the steps and place the kayak in the water. The tide was high and although it was extremely windy the wind was coming from the west and at that time I was sheltered by the river bank and trees.

The 400 metre paddle across to Ascot wasn’t too bad especially in the shelter of Ron Courtney Island where ducks and egrets were perched on the old timbers and fallen branches. It was Tuesday night but there wasn’t a sole at Ascot Kayak Club. All doors were closed, one, maybe two cars in the car park.

Now where were all these tough paddlers to paddle with. Probably cuddled up inside their home. Anyway I had to get on. Once out of the shelter of the island the wind increased and the trip down to Sandy Beach was a little rough. On the way I met Jane Dooley walking her dog. We had a chat and I paddled off seeing no other boat on the river. Heading upstream from Sandy Beach the wind wasn’t too bad at all because with the wind coming from the west, north-west meant that the river bank sheltered the water and it was less windy than when we have strong easterly or south-westerly winds.

By the time I got to Pickering Park boat ramp I saw a big flock of cormorants and a few pelicans gathered in a group trying to catch an evening meal. I stopped to take photos and then carried on towards the Saturday 4km spit-post. I decided not to go any further, so I turned and within a few minutes my cap blew off. I back paddled and retrieved my soggy cap before it sank. About 500 metres further the cormorants had gathered again, so I stopped paddling allowing the wind to push me towards them. I managed to get my camera out again and took more photos before they started flying off. It was a sight to see.

Cormorants gather to have a feed of fish.

 

The moon was up and looking good and managing to dodge the few clouds that were over to the east. The sun even managed to squeeze through the clouds and light up some of the majestic trees along the eastern shore. It wasn’t a night for racing but it was a great night to gaze, discover, study and absorb the environment around me. It is wild nights like this one that memories are made and remembered. It also reminded me of times on my expeditions.

From a distance I could see a kayak heading towards me. I could see it wasn’t a single as it was too wide. I could see it wasn’t paddled by one of our top paddlers because it was too slow. When we met up, it was Ben and Dave paddling a double plastic 515. They were out practicing for the Avon Descent and hoping it was going ahead. The 515 was a great kayak for beginners to intermediate paddlers especially in the Avon Descent as they as stable and forgiving, but they are slow and heavy to push. Only real men or women paddle a 515. There was one thing for sure a 515 is too heavy to be blown away and too stable to capsize, so they will be okay out there.

Ben and Dave getting ready for the Avon Descent.
 

I reached Sandy Beach and turned the corner where the wind was screaming on my way down. I was looking for a challenge against the wild wind but it had calmed a little but nevertheless the coat hangers of the slalom poles were spinning like a horizontal windmill. Back at Ascot I was a bit disappointed that the wind hadn’t blown me off the water, as I didn’t have a great story to talk about.

There were still no paddlers at the club so I circled the island and returned just in case a mad paddler turned up. There wasn’t, so I turned for home and heard the sound of an Osprey which was perched on a dead branch virtually above me. It was getting too dark to take a picture and as soon as I reached in my pocket for my camera it flew off swooping between the trees on Ron Courtney Island. Ahead I could see a white egret that looked as if it had been washed in soapy water, it was so white. It stood on a branch looking into the water and every few moments it speared its beak into the water to catch its dinner. I glided towards it hoping to get some great photos but with so little light I wasn’t sure if they would come out. I clicked away and it allowed me to get very close before it flew a few metres downstream to land again.    

I left the egret and headed towards the steps where I get out, but the night was stunning and it was all mine so I didn’t want to stop paddling, I moved further downstream instead. I could see a bunch of pelicans on a sandbar opposite Claughton Reserve and the warm lights in the houses on the west bank.

The wind is gusty, the moon is out and there was no one paddling from the
Ascot Kayak Club.
 

An Egret was spearing his beak in the water to get a feed.

The wind was gusting more so in the middle of the river. I noticed what I thought was a drone flying above the east shore and lit up with tiny lights. I started paddling over to it braving the rougher waters to check it out. Suddenly and to my surprise the drone turned out being a huge airliner flying overhead. That wouldn’t have been so strange if I had been below a flight path but I wasn’t. The aircraft flew over Ashfield and Morley something I hadn’t seen a big airliner do before. It was probably due to the wind direction or it got lost. (I heard later the planes were circling and couldn't land due to the bad wind conditions.)

I decided to head home. The moon was now hidden by the clouds and although it was nearly dark it was certainly darker in the west where the weather was coming from.

I had just washed my kayak when the heavens opened up. I was lucky to have returned home dry but I doubt if Ben and Dave did.

Most people would have stayed at home or done a workout in a gym, but you just can’t experience the outdoors and nature and go home with great memories if you don’t explore the river even when the weather is far from perfect. 

I love to go out there and discover.

The Mississippi River Expedition continued

Part 8

Grafton Pub.

Monday 13^th July

I slept well and didn’t get up until 7.15am as I thought Kevin may come to pick me up. I had met Kevin the day before and he had said to give him a call when I got close to St Louis and he would pick me up and take me to town. I had left a message last night but I didn’t know if he got it or not.

Like most mornings I needed to go to the toilet quite desperately. I had forgotten the pub didn’t open early so I had to walk to the supermarket in town and use their toilet and it was a fast walk. You can’t believe how much of a relief it was. It reminded me of the time when I cycled through New Jersey and I asked the caretaker at a mobile home site if I could camp there. I was desperate to camp, but I didn’t realise that all the mobile homes had their own toilet, so there was no public toilet on site. I had to walk down the road searching for one and it was touch and go. Luckily I found one. So it’s always nice to be in the bush to hide behind a tree rather in a built up area.

I rang Kevin again, but no answer again so I steadily got ready and when he didn’t arrive I moved off at 10.15am. Two kilometres later, at the other end of town I tracked down a post office to send some postcards to a school and my diary to my sister-in-law Elaine in Kingston. I had been sending postcards to children at a school since the beginning of the trip. A friend Alison Duke worked at the school, so the children were tracking my journey and sending notes back to me.

Once back in my kayak I followed some spectacular cliffs which had a road running along side. Towboats were anchored along the shore and a big launch I met created such a huge wave I was lucky to stay upright. Twenty four kilometres from Grafton I approached the town of Alton as a Casino boat was slowly steaming up the river to later return and dock just downstream of some silos and industrial buildings. I pulled up behind the Casino boat and talked to a couple who were catching some big catfish.

A road runs along the cliffs and the Mississippi River.
 

Approaching Alton.

I quickly changed and walked to the tourist office and a lady there photo copied me a map. I was aiming for the post office to get a phone card as all the other post offices I visited didn’t have one. A few hundred metres from the main centre I asked an older man where the post office was. He shouted no, no, I don’t know, in a pretty violent voice. He walked away shouting as he headed into the court building. I walked another 150 metres and there it was. I bought a $20.00 phone card. All the public phones in the US at the time only took 25 cent coins so I had to carry a lot of coins to make phone calls.

The town was only half lived in with many shops and buildings deserted and grass growing through the pavements, which was sad to see. There were still a few antique shops and even a teddy bear shop which I knew Jenny would enjoy.

Back at the kayak I ate 2 buns and cheese and left Alton on a bumpy river in hot temperatures. I arrived at lock 26, the Melvin Price lock and dam and the doors opened to allow me in before I got there. There was a big control tower and they could see me but I couldn’t see them because of the reflective glass. There was not a sole around, the area was so deserted it felt quite eerie. The gates were closed behind me, the water was lowered and the huge doors soon opened to let me out and I saw no-one.

This was one of the biggest locks on the Mississippi River, in fact it has two locks, the big lock being 1,200 feet long by 110 feet wide and the smaller lock being 600 feet long by 110 feet wide. Although there was the odd big lock along the river most of the locks were the smaller ones. The big locks allow the larger barge pods to go through the lock without having to break up the pod in two so it is much quicker for the large pods to go through. The annual lock traffic here was 8,493 vessels.

It was 3.00pm and I still had 31 kms to reach the city of St Louis, I also had one more lock and 12kms of dead water in front of me so it was going to be a challenge to get through the city and out into the country before nightfall.

I passed a towboat and a man shouted out, ‘I hope you can get through the city before dark, it’s not safe, you will get you throat slit.’ A nice thought!  I rounded a sweeping corner and it was here the mighty Missouri River entered the mighty Mississippi creating quite a lot of turbulence. Just beyond the Missouri there was a sign directing all boats down a man-made canal, the Chain of Rock Canal, which avoids a dam made up of rocks that are exposed and creates a rapid.

A few years later I paddled the entire 4000km length of the Missouri River joining the Mississippi at this very point. On that trip I followed the main river and portaged over the Chain of Rocks rapid instead of taking the canal which I was doing this time.

In the canal it was like hitting a brick wall as the current completely died. Luckily it was only 12 kms long with two bridges straddling the long, wide canal. The canal was quiet and when I reached the last lock (number 27) on the river at 6.05pm, it too was free of any barges or towboats so the gates opened as I approached. Inside I was like a fish in a goldfish bowl with no way of escaping. As the gates opened I could see parts of the city. I had to savour this moment as it the last lock on the river and the end of something special and from here the river was totally free flowing. I was in deep thought when the loud horn honked to say I was free to leave and I nearly capsized with surprise.

I get ready to move out of the last lock on the river at St Louis.

The river now runs free.

I moved out into a different world and into a river with no barriers, but with bigger barges, ships and wing dams. Up to this point I had portaged or passed through 29 locks and portaged 12 dams but now with the river running free I wouldn’t have to portage any more.

I didn’t know what was ahead so I put my outriggers on just in case the river through the city was turbulent. Many boaties haven’t had a good word to say about the lower Mississippi and have said they will never venture below St Louis for the fear of the free running river. As soon as I left the canal I joined a rejuvenated current and started to mix with the many barges and boats active in the area. The sun was now slowly setting over to the west side of the city, its rays making stunning shadows and sparkling reflections on the huge Gateway Arch, which I could see ahead. The Gateway Arch is a 192 m (630-foot) monument clad in stainless steel.

As a pod of barges head my way the sun shines on the Gateway Arch.
 

The current was quite quick through the city.
 

People were scurrying along the water front, with the arch towering over them. I longed to be there, to walk up and down the pavements taking in the sights of St Louis. But darkness was creeping in and I really didn't want to be caught in the city without a campsite. The whole scene around me was exciting; the city, the arch, the people, the flags flying, the tourist boats, the casino, the paddle steamers, the barge traffic, and there was even a floating MacDonalds restaurant.

The sun was setting over to my right, many bridges that were made of tons and tons of steel were in front of me. It was a magical scene and one of the most memorable moments of my journey so far.  As I was trying to take it all in and attempting to take some photographs, the fast current was making my plight to record my adventure in my fairly unstable kayak a little hazardous.

The Gateway Arch is a 192 m (630-foot) monument clad in stainless steel.

I paddled by McDonalds floating restaurant. People waved as I moved under a bridge being swept away by the swift current. My excitement quickly changed to concern when four tow boats in a line across the river steamed towards me. A pod of 7 barges that were anchored to the west bank stretched well out into the river and although the stationary barges appeared to be no threat to me, the powerful current rushed between and underneath them. This then caused concern as I was being sucked towards them, so I had to fight it to steer clear.

The tow-boats were four abreast, getting closer and giving me little room to fit between the towboats and the barges. To make things worse the powerful towboats were creating incredible bow and stern waves. I had my concerns about staying upright, and this wasn't the place to capsize. As they motored by, the water became even more turbulent. Huge waves wallowed and a large swell built up. My kayak bounced up and down, to and fro but I managed to keep upright and felt so relieved when they had gone and the water started to calm.

Tugs and towboats continued to move up and down assembling barges into large pods. When the sun began to set it was time to find a campsite. Buildings lined the west side of the river, with swamps and low lying fields on the east side. I moved across the wide river from the west to the east and due to the very swift current I had to perform a huge ferry glide. Once safely across I moved downstream and found a small sand bar just big enough to erect my tent, as long as the river didn't come up in the night. A swamp and fields to the east protected me from any invasion of humans, but several large rat holes were an indication that I wouldn't be alone that night.

The sun was dropping behind the city centre as I made camp. It was a beautiful sight and I never imagined being so happy, safe and contented camping in St Louis. When the red sky faded, the city lights, a kilometre or so away, had me spell bound as I sat on my little beach pleased with the basic meal that I had cooked.

St Louis city centre in the distance.