tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57895373913921670422024-03-05T10:26:34.003-08:00SteadyPaddlingUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-53448285416055151952013-01-19T21:39:00.001-08:002013-01-24T00:20:02.125-08:00Missouri River Trip<span style="font-size: x-large;">Here's the story and lots of photos of my solo kayak journey down the Missouri River in the summer of 2012.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">If your contemplating a similar trip and need more information please contact me at: </span><a href="mailto:SteadyPaddling@gmail.com"><span style="font-size: x-large;">SteadyPaddling@gmail.com</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Click on the dates under "THE JOURNEY ....." in the right hand panel to read from the start in Montana thru to finishing in St Louis, Missouri.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Bob B</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-91194257979685972522012-09-04T16:30:00.001-07:002012-12-10T19:07:18.761-08:00Lexington,Missouri (mile 316 ) to the Mississippi River (mile 0)<br />
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I arrived at the Waverly boat ramp (mile 295) around midday and decided to get lunch at a diner in town just a mile from the river. As usual I tied my kayak up high of the water and left a note on it saying who I am and what I'm doing, with my cell/mobile phone number in case I need to be contacted. I returned to find 3 crispy apples and a plate of chilled apple dumplings with a note from Greg Prather, a local resident wishing me well.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Dessert delivered to the boat from Waverly well wishers.</span></b></td></tr>
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Robin and Connie Kalthoff live not far off the river and have been following my journey through this blog. With an invite to meet them at a bend in the river around the 278 mile I paddled there and spent an enjoyable evening with them at their family's new cabin still being built. Giant hot dogs and barbecued corn made a great meal.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The Kalthoffs - Connie and Robin</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">These people offer a 'must stop' location on the river for any distance paddlers, they'll be more than happy to host and help in any way they can.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><b><span style="font-size: small;">With their son Chris, a singer, guitarist and songwriter with his dad, and an occasional paddler.</span></b></td></tr>
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I found Gary and Fred (retired farmers) enjoying a cup of coffee on a sandbar just downstream of the Kalthoff's place and invited myself over to help them finish the pot.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Gary and Fred</span></b></td></tr>
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I called in to Glasgow at mile 226 to stay the night and have a shower at the riverside campground where I met a group out socialising near the boat ramp. They were very interested in my trip (you have a lot of river cred' with 2,000 miles under your keel) and ended up getting an offer of a proper shower and bed for the night.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">The Glasgow crowd enjoying their afternoon social drink near the boat ramp (the dog patrols the table and tips over any unsupported cans/bottles).</span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Out on the town with Gary my Glasgow host</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The Fish Beak Saloon Crowd - Vergil, Becky, Gloria, Gary, me, Sarah and Nick</span></b></td></tr>
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The last few hundred miles of river surprisingly remains tranquil, rural and pretty much unused. It is engineered to maintain flow that helps prevent silting; the US Army Corp of Engineers are tasked with this job and have over the years built and maintained thousands of 'wing dykes' - rock structures that jut out of the river banks - and rock wall erosion protection barriers to prevent scouring and natural diversion of the river. The Missouri is such a dynamic and volatile river that once a bridge has been built the Army Corp then have to ensure the river continues to flow under it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">I was advised that these are Army Corp rock placement markers not remembrance crosses at the scene of a river tragedy as I initially thought.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Lewis and Clark re-enactment boat heading up stream.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_YkMNeZStfo2TGGF8WxpqbcM3xwlLd4TDgse0KoXBBmxmBs7I6lkkSUQWFAOXIYMxrJElPA0hFV7G3pUl2BEaVBf5iQu_GBGs27xHZMwTtMIdOEHAUb5ffiAHHDBG1-WXZpq840GVJsP/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_YkMNeZStfo2TGGF8WxpqbcM3xwlLd4TDgse0KoXBBmxmBs7I6lkkSUQWFAOXIYMxrJElPA0hFV7G3pUl2BEaVBf5iQu_GBGs27xHZMwTtMIdOEHAUb5ffiAHHDBG1-WXZpq840GVJsP/s640/DSC_0009.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">And another.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Tug boat pushing two barges full of rock</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">I'm sheltering behind a rock wing dyke to avoid the worst of the tugs wake.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The wake can create turbulent water for ten minutes after the barge passes.</span></b></td></tr>
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Coopers Landing at mile 170 is another distance paddlers 'must stop' destination. Mike Cooper who has developed the place over the last 35 years somehow knew I was coming (through the river paddlers network I suspect) and offered me free camping and use of the shower and laundry facilities saying that anyone travelling over 2,000 miles from the headwaters deserves it.<br />
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I was there to enjoy the great food and music that Coopers is renown for, to rest up for a day and to meet Janet Sullens-Moreland who expressed an interest in buying the <i>Barbara May </i>once my journey is over. The local newspaper were also interested in my expedition and turned up to get the story: <a href="http://www.columbiamissourian.com/stories/2012/08/24/kayaking-fraternity/" target="_blank">Columbia News Story - Aussie Paddler</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXW746ei-QxY9Wxy_YOFLAYtodVJhb7VkjuzjjhwvfNdHBJMrirce-87Y-hnUWDZoeAQnSupOne4l9WZoe94gwNiI4Mdj5j01YTZuvsabClS6NgMgVx8-ljxVXWC78aOlwPm4DUPPy_5xg/s1600/With+Janet+at+Coopers+Landing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXW746ei-QxY9Wxy_YOFLAYtodVJhb7VkjuzjjhwvfNdHBJMrirce-87Y-hnUWDZoeAQnSupOne4l9WZoe94gwNiI4Mdj5j01YTZuvsabClS6NgMgVx8-ljxVXWC78aOlwPm4DUPPy_5xg/s640/With+Janet+at+Coopers+Landing.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">With Janet Sullens-Moreland who intends, next year, to be the first female to solo paddle the Missouri River - she has the skills and determination and all she needs now is the right boat!</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Privately owned paddle wheeler ay Coopers Landing</span></b></td></tr>
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I met Steve Schnarr and Melanie Cheney the Program Management team for Missouri River Relief a volunteer, not-for-profit organisation dedicated to bringing people together to clean up and maintain a healthy Missouri River. I will proudly be wearing a Missouri River Relief T-Shirt on my return home to Australia compliments of the team.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Steve and Melanie</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn (a.k.a TnT) arriving at Coopers Landing</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Overlooking the river at dusk - Coopers Landing</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Sunset from Coopers Landing - I wonder why Mike settled here!</span></b></td></tr>
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I'd been given another contact to call on in the town of Hermann, Missouri and met and stayed with Gary Leabman and Marsha. Retired from a stressful business about 8 years ago they now run a self-catering guest house high up overlooking the Missouri River. I arrived there on a Saturday that coincidentally happened to be the weekend the town was celebrating its 175 year anniversary. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Guest house view of the Missouri River</span></b></td></tr>
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Believed to resemble the Rhine Valley Hermann came into existence when German settlers built a frontier town here. It is now the centre of the Missouri wine growing region and a tourist Mecca for those wanting to experience good food, antique shops and a quaint European like town; I would liked to have spent longer there.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">With Gary in Hermann MO</span></b></td></tr>
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(I'd met three Gary's along this section of river)<br />
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Randy Morgart the Vice Presdent of the St Louis Canoe and Kayak Club drove 85 miles up river to meet and paddle with me for the day. He arrived with two other members of the club - Jan Cook and Bob Jung and we paddled 25 miles to the riverside town of Washington MO. TnT were there and the three of us were treated to lunch at a restaurant overlooking the river. I was given a club T- shirt and a locally made corn pipe as a memento of my visit to their paddling ground. Jan also gave me a flask of what she called a honey drink(?).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Bob Jung</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Washington MO</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxjTkdJM0AU59GbpC7t6tp40oUKO9s3BytWqmCiJzziUkuMyhXwktiRhINT5zWcitc_qb7jcianWO-QuOE7sAgceQ31kIEUG6ggbp3adUfbLXVsa4ThEslY-WOZRdn6BG8Gmx4vadneSo/s1600/DSCN0842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxjTkdJM0AU59GbpC7t6tp40oUKO9s3BytWqmCiJzziUkuMyhXwktiRhINT5zWcitc_qb7jcianWO-QuOE7sAgceQ31kIEUG6ggbp3adUfbLXVsa4ThEslY-WOZRdn6BG8Gmx4vadneSo/s640/DSCN0842.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>With Randy, Jan, Bob and Tom (of TnT fame)</b></span></td></tr>
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I enjoyed their company and appreciated their offer to help in any way should I need it when I arrived in St Louis. I left them after lunch and headed downstream into what looked like stormy weather. TnT stayed in town as they had partied the night before on a sandbar up river and had no energy left.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIycCH83WldY3fHOS0vbXtDydyQHMTsvDk7EksiOtCE4U_4xxe4LEbT5HbfAKzHqtQBP0Q1RT0rl53jQpK4pKiqyhVxwSnnYgAuaA-Je4-VmjGPgG0i60NCQAUFSwSsnguHYhq8t3eEqj1/s1600/DSCN0844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIycCH83WldY3fHOS0vbXtDydyQHMTsvDk7EksiOtCE4U_4xxe4LEbT5HbfAKzHqtQBP0Q1RT0rl53jQpK4pKiqyhVxwSnnYgAuaA-Je4-VmjGPgG0i60NCQAUFSwSsnguHYhq8t3eEqj1/s640/DSCN0844.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Stormy weather ahead</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Cold and wet but only 60 miles to go.</span></b></td></tr>
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I had to get off the river and shelter from the lightning. I was soaked through and stood under some fallen trees out of harms way for a couple of hours until the storm passed. I found a shelter on private property but decided to stay there thinking nobody would come along - surely only an idiot would be out in this weather.<br />
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The honey drink Jan gave me turned out to be honey-whiskey - couldn't have been more timely and warmed me from the inside out.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEUvObdgjS3wvcBxQqNOE2AMlb6RdelDBNefUDiAtdMsPDC71JhdOFl4hRFI_jkYUFF16xCOMUtH0Q_Rd_3aKqDGOSs1wOIZd5k3eU0r_sS7ilwKHVLgemaNQxz3auVA4yPgz15g3gg4s/s1600/DSCN0851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEUvObdgjS3wvcBxQqNOE2AMlb6RdelDBNefUDiAtdMsPDC71JhdOFl4hRFI_jkYUFF16xCOMUtH0Q_Rd_3aKqDGOSs1wOIZd5k3eU0r_sS7ilwKHVLgemaNQxz3auVA4yPgz15g3gg4s/s640/DSCN0851.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Not the Ritz Hotel but good enough for me - only 55 mile to the Mississippi</span></b></td></tr>
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I paddled 50 miles the next day and camped just 5 miles from my final destination, unsure if there was a place to stay where the rivers meet - as it turned out, there was.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkcu7dYon5uQU8aA10XgTn5hRKeALMIyTnCmMhIBu2pxi0hy8viVNuIja0LePaTiH1oIhOoiZ_aWJAMD4n6XxfH0CvyxW82mUUZqrvGbXbJ9CWJgygMyWZUrav5mRHPGiVC2gG6iTz28C/s1600/DSCN0859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkcu7dYon5uQU8aA10XgTn5hRKeALMIyTnCmMhIBu2pxi0hy8viVNuIja0LePaTiH1oIhOoiZ_aWJAMD4n6XxfH0CvyxW82mUUZqrvGbXbJ9CWJgygMyWZUrav5mRHPGiVC2gG6iTz28C/s640/DSCN0859.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Sunset from my last camp site - mile 5.</span></b></td></tr>
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I was on the water early to paddle the last 5 miles. I noticed another boat about 2 miles upstream and wondered if was TnT or Mark Kalch the Aussie adventurer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCN8-pe2aN3Tl58iJZMkvInJY8pusLRhYwQFiM8NLWO0UJMUFiI3kfN6nSOrb-S-L65ijt2BcfU6B5Cg0hnG-mT0OdSp1ltolOhB2lQBcHCAY3bHAUd5IaBDUk01QryJpqfKfh_C5KS_oh/s1600/DSCN0860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCN8-pe2aN3Tl58iJZMkvInJY8pusLRhYwQFiM8NLWO0UJMUFiI3kfN6nSOrb-S-L65ijt2BcfU6B5Cg0hnG-mT0OdSp1ltolOhB2lQBcHCAY3bHAUd5IaBDUk01QryJpqfKfh_C5KS_oh/s640/DSCN0860.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Mississippi River dead ahead</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Here it is, Confluence Point Mile 0 - I'd made it - 2,231 miles in 89 days.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">TnT arrived a few minutes later - they'd paddled and slept on and off through the night.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">"Ol' Man River" - me and the Barbara May at the confluence</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Symbolically claiming the Louisiana Territories for Australia - <br />no expense spared on the flag pole either.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHeeeO6n4kMOPyVTh50Dw-Pl5zB6nyQ6qEIYZrforpvQjAmWx8edWslwlHjGwSHZW7HseaTqNfvLM2DEj0Ndknpnmxg23L5-qn41-KE4SFRKUu_Q8-liAhuYkE_Hf7v6HI_rUPMn1JxFy/s1600/DSC_0047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHeeeO6n4kMOPyVTh50Dw-Pl5zB6nyQ6qEIYZrforpvQjAmWx8edWslwlHjGwSHZW7HseaTqNfvLM2DEj0Ndknpnmxg23L5-qn41-KE4SFRKUu_Q8-liAhuYkE_Hf7v6HI_rUPMn1JxFy/s640/DSC_0047.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">I left a flag for Mark Kalch to collect and take down to the Gulf of Mexico</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6h3U_9em4943sVfyYIhozST3IBbmnFwlexnK1Km_rsRS1bHt37BciEWlt5NCDw7hHi7T1MOXosBMOSVOk02jl75Du0T0e2kDgpZwb9poKqme4Gcex-6qpNL5Se5QclI6kGOEJ2OHogDe/s1600/DSC_0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6h3U_9em4943sVfyYIhozST3IBbmnFwlexnK1Km_rsRS1bHt37BciEWlt5NCDw7hHi7T1MOXosBMOSVOk02jl75Du0T0e2kDgpZwb9poKqme4Gcex-6qpNL5Se5QclI6kGOEJ2OHogDe/s640/DSC_0048.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Redundant water intakes on the Mississippi River looking like miniature Bavarian Castles</span></b></td></tr>
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Another 16 miles to paddle before arriving in St Louis proper which included a portage around a natural barrier on the Mississippi River called the 'Chain of Rocks'. Barges are directed into a purpose built canal to get around this barrier.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbNDI_SA9hDNsfuwHFcGgiv7o4Vl0STDY4OoX6UFJc82UJnQL3fgQrd-p2J5tz-qle5u1i02Usu54tSNINtMdi65qhy5Z4TU0sYwR3zuxZXrXX8CebmnE4R1vt0LoZalm1Nt9dkTv5jlo/s1600/DSC_0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbNDI_SA9hDNsfuwHFcGgiv7o4Vl0STDY4OoX6UFJc82UJnQL3fgQrd-p2J5tz-qle5u1i02Usu54tSNINtMdi65qhy5Z4TU0sYwR3zuxZXrXX8CebmnE4R1vt0LoZalm1Nt9dkTv5jlo/s640/DSC_0051.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The 'Chain of Rocks' barrier on the Mississippi upstream of St Louis</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUe2VToENsA6fCkcG-Udk6nh20s79XpDqXpDhCrBSbMjyEGV5M65NuDNOyfw26KX4OK92yT0KSGTxjawSR7Tn2I4WdR85ihQMx5DIiOw1zdbuYlizqhx32Z6dCcFHl2XFMy7nEMjRsavc/s1600/DSC_0055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMUe2VToENsA6fCkcG-Udk6nh20s79XpDqXpDhCrBSbMjyEGV5M65NuDNOyfw26KX4OK92yT0KSGTxjawSR7Tn2I4WdR85ihQMx5DIiOw1zdbuYlizqhx32Z6dCcFHl2XFMy7nEMjRsavc/s640/DSC_0055.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The St Louis Arch an iconic landmark where I pulled the boat out for the last time.</span></b></td></tr>
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My contact in St Louis was Mike Clark a long time friend of Norm Miller in Bozeman, a veteran Missouri and Mississippi paddler and owner and guide of Big Muddy Adventures. Mike is the "go to" man for distance paddlers reaching St Louis; his knowledge, experience and love of both rivers is second to none. His business takes people of all skill levels out on the river on short and long trips as well as fully catered moonlight paddles for groups who aren't confident to paddle solo.</div>
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Mike arrived with a trailer and took me, the Barbara May and all my gear back to his place where we celebrated the end of my expedition with chinese food and a beer or two and stayed up late talking about our experiences on the Missouri River. He and Norm Miller are a great tag team - Norm throws paddlers in at the headwaters, Mike scoops them out this end.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlRSAeCvqkJpZWG3KJzb9lCoG8_zW_7oYmNL19QuilTJG013VQc96X4gJnLeg8xNNf10zuFJeAFl08xseUvxFSnUG4OcQp5kVIx9gBU6rq23ZJrmDapnnS-qv9G2Nsq5954Y-eN1akVJtv/s1600/DSCN0888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlRSAeCvqkJpZWG3KJzb9lCoG8_zW_7oYmNL19QuilTJG013VQc96X4gJnLeg8xNNf10zuFJeAFl08xseUvxFSnUG4OcQp5kVIx9gBU6rq23ZJrmDapnnS-qv9G2Nsq5954Y-eN1akVJtv/s640/DSCN0888.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Mike Clark with one of many canoes he has built</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><b><span style="font-size: small;">The Barbara May all cleaned up and sparkling</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFi51clAKxGKh08WBaFuA_8a302GUvGh-1QXbBaq_LVbLpp1aAeSQt17JpgEbZoOWhXOAqym8whErDbwV_3jKHVenrkFvZX05S0VuoL6vuRcNp7kCbR9J1TnsKRkTTQI4CIZAFOpbuvu7U/s1600/DSCN0886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFi51clAKxGKh08WBaFuA_8a302GUvGh-1QXbBaq_LVbLpp1aAeSQt17JpgEbZoOWhXOAqym8whErDbwV_3jKHVenrkFvZX05S0VuoL6vuRcNp7kCbR9J1TnsKRkTTQI4CIZAFOpbuvu7U/s640/DSCN0886.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">My last view of the 'Barbara May' in Mike's dry-dock at Big Muddy Adventures, St Louis.</span></b></td></tr>
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My journey is over and I've had a great time on a river that has given me everything I wanted it to be. I've seen wonderful scenery and incredible wild life and met the most kind, generous and hospitable people anyone could hope to meet. I thank you all for your friendship, encouragement, advice, your humour and your prayers. I was lifted by all the responses to this blog, the emails, phone calls and anonymous notes left on my boat.</div>
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I know a 3,600 km journey likes this is not for everyone but I encourage anyone who might want to see just a part of the river to make it happen. If you can, consider a weeks float through the White Cliffs area downstream from Fort Benton, Montana - you wont even have to paddle, the current will carry you along nicely. </div>
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For those that may want the full deal, let me tell you now that it's achievable - I'm living proof of that. With good planning and focus you'll get there, but know that it's more than just a physical challenge. Be kind to the river and to yourself and you'll enjoy the solitude that this journey offers.</div>
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I'll finish with a thank you to the one person that really made it happen for me. From our first contact by email some 2 years ago Norm Miller's focus has been to get me down the river to St Louis safely. He shared his time and home, his knowledge and experience and his friends and contacts and even kept Barbara in Perth advised of my progress when communications failed. I owe you Norm and I owe you big time - I'll not forget that.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-21995326180818484142012-08-19T16:10:00.002-07:002012-08-19T16:44:55.373-07:00Yankton SD (Mile 805 to Lexington MO (Mile 316)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
I was really looking forward to the last 800 miles of river with no dams or lakes and strong current all the way to the confluence with the Mississippi River, but as I write this in Lexington, Missouri over 500 miles downstream, I have to report that I've had headwinds everyday but one.</div>
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I enjoyed the town of Yankton though with its well kept riverside park, character architecture, easy walking to town and plenty of places with free wifi access. </div>
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I arrived at the town boat dock to find TnT's canoe tied up. I met up with them at a bar advertising a $5 all-you-can-eat lunch special. I don't think the bar will do that again without checking upstream to see if paddlers are in the area; I thought I was hungry but TnT must have hollow legs as they certainly packed it in.</div>
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No rain around so we didn't bother to put up the tents and slept on the floating dock in town. As usual I left early while the boys slept in; they caught up with me around lunch time, we paddled seperately all afternoon and ended up sharing the same campground that night up river from Sioux City. The day was spent navigating sandbars and mudflats, occasionally bottoming-out and having to walk the boat into deeper water; it's not too easy identifying the main channel when so low in the water.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Remind me again why Barbara didn't want to come - there's plenty of room!</span></b></td></tr>
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The 2011 floods caused major problems along this section of the river. Nearly all the marinas, restaurants and campgrounds mentioned in David Millers excellent guide - <i>The Complete Paddler</i> are closed/silted-up with no sign of re-opening.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Flat and dry overlooking my kayak is always a good campsite</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Would have been the ideal stop in 2010</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Typical of what last years floods have done to the marinas below Yankton SD</span></b></td></tr>
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I was looking forward to arriving in Sioux City but found no access to a campground or a ramp where it was safe to leave my kayak.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzJkw2wpSLykNYrqHHHI4mpjADkezhmU0aDzr5MrjF0hsTjG-jqPbW0XXcW9jCGPNdmf9ErVFQZSW2-JmO_CbGSdp7yJugE1_Ll9AeW8w98OuF12F-BLdZIRfCUteNzuDu9RGldVZ65tI/s1600/DSCN0680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzJkw2wpSLykNYrqHHHI4mpjADkezhmU0aDzr5MrjF0hsTjG-jqPbW0XXcW9jCGPNdmf9ErVFQZSW2-JmO_CbGSdp7yJugE1_Ll9AeW8w98OuF12F-BLdZIRfCUteNzuDu9RGldVZ65tI/s640/DSCN0680.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The best accommodation I was offered on the river in Sioux City ($25 rusty cabin with no water or power and a wooden platform to put <u>my</u> mattress on) - I paddled on.</span></b></td></tr>
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Not far down river was Dakota City that had a great riverside park with hot showers, I stayed there.<br />
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Next day I did find Pop n' Docs riverside bar and marina (re-built/opened after the flood) and spent the night camped there (a recommended 'must stop').<br />
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Couldn't get motivated the next day and paddled on and off hoping for a tailwind when Steve Stodola came along side in his fishing boat. Not fishing though, just drifting and enjoying a few beers with the intention of camping up overnight; it was Friday afternoon and he'd taken the day off. We floated with the current for an hour or so and talked about our experiences on the river.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Steve Stodola in relaxation mode - is he the coolest guy on the river or what?</span></b></td></tr>
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Steve playing Spielberg ..................</div>
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Steve phoned his wife and asked her to meet me at the Blair ramp and drive me to the grocery store which is a bit more than an easy stroll from the river. I'm not sure what's in that Mountain Dew he gave me but I paddled non-stop for 13 miles. </div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Steve's wife Caroline sending me off at Blair Park ramp fully re-supplied compliments of the Stodolas.</span></b></div>
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I received a good luck email/comment from Mike Swenson and his wife who were on the River City Star that I passed right in the heart of Omaha city; I've no idea who they are but I hope they can see themselves if they zoom in on this photo - very thoughtful of them and much appreciated.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">River boat in Omaha, Nebraska</span></b></td></tr>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Where you going?" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">St Louis</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">,</span> "where did you start?" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">at the headwaters Montana,</span>"where are you from?"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">Australia</span>"here, have some beer" - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"><i>you gotta love these Americans</i>.</span></span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGSGBo0QR69dBItJiD7wAs-cUQQZdXqlNeahBWUlFhManM74HUR-omzPylHNHEO8DibpIfeKNzarNIuukTiLlkpJqDQCYY-8DwiKMf7vczWvBYXyAB7G96HAmimbL-E0scIF23-jujfkA/s1600/DSCN0718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGSGBo0QR69dBItJiD7wAs-cUQQZdXqlNeahBWUlFhManM74HUR-omzPylHNHEO8DibpIfeKNzarNIuukTiLlkpJqDQCYY-8DwiKMf7vczWvBYXyAB7G96HAmimbL-E0scIF23-jujfkA/s640/DSCN0718.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Invited over for drinks and snacks with these fine people just downstream of Omaha</span></b></td></tr>
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From a distance and the noise they made I thought it was a barge coming down the river.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47fFaiW7bLRUysEs-iNJegUlNFgq6maBEYSuz3QprVLERr3kptKv_NWhwImKYjpEO8HSTPApaOLCYHQF74FSOA-2m4u47jU0MsHpP2dOF05q7lIFTb5jqHMfbsRrMikVyoyqC4ce6czEp/s1600/DSCN0721.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg47fFaiW7bLRUysEs-iNJegUlNFgq6maBEYSuz3QprVLERr3kptKv_NWhwImKYjpEO8HSTPApaOLCYHQF74FSOA-2m4u47jU0MsHpP2dOF05q7lIFTb5jqHMfbsRrMikVyoyqC4ce6czEp/s640/DSCN0721.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Omaha social boaters tied together and just floating/drinking there way down the river</span></b></td></tr>
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I was hoping to stay longer in Omaha and meet up with Doug Jasa, Jim Keen, Lance and Bill that I'd met up on Lake Oahe but it's not the easiest place to moor up and leave the boat safely. I hope they are reading this and know that I'll be in touch.<br />
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I called in to the town of Plattsmouth, Nebraska for breakfast and walked past this place just up from the ramp. Obviously somebody with too much time on their hands.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qiQAo-FQaFNWlktKEEM9S7hL1bfGIbc01IsVWf56JGngeq3nXVo3gFTxT-KGhxxSzwahVXHxIjF2rCsIq96N2RaQVj8zHnh0DlF3T5PhpyPDKVRndKD8le65C-zrqw9eywWu3sNXVCWh/s1600/DSCN0725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qiQAo-FQaFNWlktKEEM9S7hL1bfGIbc01IsVWf56JGngeq3nXVo3gFTxT-KGhxxSzwahVXHxIjF2rCsIq96N2RaQVj8zHnh0DlF3T5PhpyPDKVRndKD8le65C-zrqw9eywWu3sNXVCWh/s640/DSCN0725.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What can I say!</span></b></td></tr>
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Lots of rusty vintage cars on display.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaML0rSrQAojFQDO5w2iSBra4ImXpU8-S74c1zoYOKbq6aRyo4o_LzqdHgb0n8rR60U37ddg9EbCtmHX7GevMdLtzXtZC9q0jT2s9_1O3ss3fscSm-VP3RC31vb88_NQESODeOhpp51DkB/s1600/DSCN0727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaML0rSrQAojFQDO5w2iSBra4ImXpU8-S74c1zoYOKbq6aRyo4o_LzqdHgb0n8rR60U37ddg9EbCtmHX7GevMdLtzXtZC9q0jT2s9_1O3ss3fscSm-VP3RC31vb88_NQESODeOhpp51DkB/s640/DSCN0727.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One of many</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ24Aq9pKyb-U8-eXI-HU4SwxUC-D8VYBvXWxz0h0Xv8BSRbsAqoSHPC6hkUkQBwn8wUN8B3trtDiCxE2m6L-5JvJmavxIDhR1PuAG9CN4TuMdOVSCJzgRag71Lks9MJgVgZjGBvDoyu3/s1600/DSCN0728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZ24Aq9pKyb-U8-eXI-HU4SwxUC-D8VYBvXWxz0h0Xv8BSRbsAqoSHPC6hkUkQBwn8wUN8B3trtDiCxE2m6L-5JvJmavxIDhR1PuAG9CN4TuMdOVSCJzgRag71Lks9MJgVgZjGBvDoyu3/s640/DSCN0728.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Great advertising</span></b></td></tr>
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I met Dale, one of the Sharpe Brothers River Rats, who offered to take me into town in his 1925 Studebaker. He doesn't seem to do much with the bodywork but the engine sounded just great.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetQ9EaoeboE2soODCIPGr9MXUrypfCUcSZhnUthKa26FLzQMEqT7tu1JldXqF8ufusOGckrh9sLQFJMrBHBDi76jjtTxMZhuiqsYgleuO1Dlxf9Uni0x9qavY5QfiNLnLPbuHaazXcgjU/s1600/DSCN0732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetQ9EaoeboE2soODCIPGr9MXUrypfCUcSZhnUthKa26FLzQMEqT7tu1JldXqF8ufusOGckrh9sLQFJMrBHBDi76jjtTxMZhuiqsYgleuO1Dlxf9Uni0x9qavY5QfiNLnLPbuHaazXcgjU/s640/DSCN0732.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With Dale Sharpe in his 1925 Studebaker - Plattsmouth, Nebraska</span></b></td></tr>
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A chance encounter while looking for a place to camp got me talking to Brad Krauth as he was filleting his days catch. Brad owns a property right on the river with a private ramp where he said I could camp the night. I did, but also got invited up to meet his family and friends and have a shower and a meal in their wonderful home overlooking a bend in the river.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMqvWmHdtnD1xVJNTv2M48ePd-s-Qq7kVILIKOQqC-kXwipoF6l6rFNdpAqkGaQasDNH7ccYn_lP6-HdP0NYnW7sjRIpT2HHSnfhrrBEKDeZvvhU9783fjExBVxb1etrE49Xa_qxBqV1-/s1600/DSCN0735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMqvWmHdtnD1xVJNTv2M48ePd-s-Qq7kVILIKOQqC-kXwipoF6l6rFNdpAqkGaQasDNH7ccYn_lP6-HdP0NYnW7sjRIpT2HHSnfhrrBEKDeZvvhU9783fjExBVxb1etrE49Xa_qxBqV1-/s640/DSCN0735.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>With the Krauth family and friends - Justin and Kerry, and Staci and Brad (</b>does he look a bit like Keith Urban?)<b> and their boys Garrett and Hayden</b></span></td></tr>
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Justin and Kerry are visiting from Illinois with their twin boys (not in the photo).<br />
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I have been amazed at the solitude of this last 500 mile section of river. Out of the cities there's hardly anyone to be seen. I had expected it to be more populated with trophy homes built along stretches of river taking advantage of the beautiful views - not the case at all. A few retirees fishing from the bank or in aluminium dinghies and the occasional row of holiday cabins and not much else.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFCLHCbXO72J0BXiP9uWIoYHVdT55W-AEw_7D0FEMvcYMTpmeMormp3vjVLmlTrR6QQwC5421CsgzsdUyw472-BMXX8YtS6MzzuhQVqxt4lMxqRjYeoNlUdS8njfHHbboUPOJHEtP8YCJ/s1600/DSCN0738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFCLHCbXO72J0BXiP9uWIoYHVdT55W-AEw_7D0FEMvcYMTpmeMormp3vjVLmlTrR6QQwC5421CsgzsdUyw472-BMXX8YtS6MzzuhQVqxt4lMxqRjYeoNlUdS8njfHHbboUPOJHEtP8YCJ/s640/DSCN0738.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No <u>not</u> me - it's retiree Paul, "all about grandkids and fishing now"!</span></b></td></tr>
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Another chance encounter as I was pulling in to a public ramp to camp the night when I got talking to Mike and his son Drake. They invited me to stay up at their cabin 4 miles further on; I paddled there in record time as the sun went down. They weren't staying overnight and they gave the use of their RV/caravan (a hot shower two nights in a row - luxury) and their cabin kitchen. Mike set the coffee pot up so that I'd have a hot cuppa before leaving in the morning. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVev8k7gQUnhAqHnDRcDzH8WGY41m51NVc0d-I6-YlCu-bm9XgGZVMZ3De7FMAjZWGfcr-CfjDXLsRABhSO5X11eQwf6FfkoNwRg8phg7A0MNmEli7huq5A2AoY24JFTxnhMvFewqz8tWd/s1600/DSCN0746.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVev8k7gQUnhAqHnDRcDzH8WGY41m51NVc0d-I6-YlCu-bm9XgGZVMZ3De7FMAjZWGfcr-CfjDXLsRABhSO5X11eQwf6FfkoNwRg8phg7A0MNmEli7huq5A2AoY24JFTxnhMvFewqz8tWd/s640/DSCN0746.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mike and son Drake - couldn't be more generous, welcoming and friendly</span></b></td></tr>
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I paddled through the city of St Josephs as there was no place at all I could moore up in the city. I stopped at what I thought was a public ramp that turned out to be private and owned by Bud and Teri Lemmon. I explained what I was about and asked if it would be OK to camp near my kayak on their property, no problems at all and they made their workshop bathroom available to me. Teri bought me out a piece of lime pie that was fantastic (like what we would call a cheesecake in Australia), Bud gave me some beer and Teri made me up a lunch bag to take with me the following day - wonderful, wonderful people.</div>
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I called in to the town of Atchison and was pleased to find everything within walking distance from the town ramp. Got my laundry done and then had a $1 shower at the YMCA over the road, shopped next door and checked emails in the bar on the next corner - what a place.</div>
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I asked "county" Deputy Sheriff Tim Miller if it would be alright to camp on the grass alongside the ramp, he made a phone call to his "city police" counterparts and got the OK. </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP9z_eHFoENcQSJlEHbEvTKYRbv83Fpz1YwG15BZ9vtESIHqdwkVaj7QNRavyBTipHm8LWCzQ6QuD-HUjjwNuTlIl7Z6LZfk57qfaBuiBuX2vZWH6ghX0yY8aNzSFi0wVBEJbU9Xh-4guG/s1600/DSCN0763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP9z_eHFoENcQSJlEHbEvTKYRbv83Fpz1YwG15BZ9vtESIHqdwkVaj7QNRavyBTipHm8LWCzQ6QuD-HUjjwNuTlIl7Z6LZfk57qfaBuiBuX2vZWH6ghX0yY8aNzSFi0wVBEJbU9Xh-4guG/s640/DSCN0763.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With Deputy Sheriff Tim Miller - Atchison, Kansas</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLwye5T_jYNyg4b2duvxwCbCyJ0OwqcLUn9EZO4X53vp2w9kleR3SOOj3TFp4J6dBiAbxKnFfqBwITSchbnTvgCOf-I9xPay-RL0jvkqYcIq9xIhy6F5slFqUz943DhhDTDX2Gipb9Hrh/s1600/DSCN0765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLwye5T_jYNyg4b2duvxwCbCyJ0OwqcLUn9EZO4X53vp2w9kleR3SOOj3TFp4J6dBiAbxKnFfqBwITSchbnTvgCOf-I9xPay-RL0jvkqYcIq9xIhy6F5slFqUz943DhhDTDX2Gipb9Hrh/s640/DSCN0765.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Camping above the ramp - Atchison, Kansas</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Morning visitors - Deputy Sheriffs Ken Price, and Tim Miller with a coffee for me - amazing</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVSXR3ZPn_gcPQxxPQGbbVuvUPM99A7uHbYmn0WQ_mISHkTl2QvvbEpDAulMJb0n4jt89APPnGky-5874uMepYPWE2fw-sOdJ0vtQVI3YCIZOPoaRHWBl4lh7gdktqY-ZvM2RcgoXfToG/s1600/DSCN0785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVSXR3ZPn_gcPQxxPQGbbVuvUPM99A7uHbYmn0WQ_mISHkTl2QvvbEpDAulMJb0n4jt89APPnGky-5874uMepYPWE2fw-sOdJ0vtQVI3YCIZOPoaRHWBl4lh7gdktqY-ZvM2RcgoXfToG/s640/DSCN0785.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One that didn't get away 50 pound+ blue catfish</span></b></td></tr>
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I was awoken from my midday sleep in the woods near a remote boat ramp by a "G'day, I thought you'd like to hear an Aussie accent". Jim, a soldier based in Brisbane and over here for a wedding, saw the flag on my kayak and came over for a chat. He was travelling with his friend Craig and about to fly to Yosemite CA before heading home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-eVESg-8uQ2tvZlblRBVi9kEJjjp8aMRRBPVP7v1k0YTscYob2zQDitBu13C2wldjZmsPNnCHwzhKdGEdIbN-Uy7BKKoMnv1Y4HSBPQ69V8Ig2l15omLmhBFBK5za6tdOoRu_MvbSGbfA/s1600/DSCN0787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-eVESg-8uQ2tvZlblRBVi9kEJjjp8aMRRBPVP7v1k0YTscYob2zQDitBu13C2wldjZmsPNnCHwzhKdGEdIbN-Uy7BKKoMnv1Y4HSBPQ69V8Ig2l15omLmhBFBK5za6tdOoRu_MvbSGbfA/s640/DSCN0787.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With Aussie Jim from Brisbane</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Always the best time of day on the river</span></b></td></tr>
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Sit back and enjoy an early morning paddle on the Missouri River, I'll do all the work ...........</div>
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I have these last two weeks been alternately camping in five states - South Dakota, Nebraska, Iowa, Kansas and Missouri - as the river defines their borders. It's Missouri on both sides of the river from now on.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">"Barbara May, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas any more"</span></i></b></span></div>
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It's Sunday 19 August (my daughter Kelly's birthday) and I'm in Lexington, Missouri with only 316 miles to go. Haven't seen TnT for nearly 2 weeks but I suspect they are within hours of getting here and Mark Kalch the Australian adventurer is sure to come through at a great rate of knots and capsize me in his wake.</div>
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I paddle on, happy that all's well at home and with the news that I'm going to be a grandfather again.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-86584603683574135162012-08-12T15:44:00.003-07:002012-08-12T15:44:37.212-07:00Chamberlain SD (Mile 968) to Yankton SD (Mile 805)<div style="text-align: justify;">
This next 163 mile section delivered some of the strongest headwinds I've experienced to date that held me up on shore for a few days, and also some of the strongest tailwinds and high swells I'v experienced that allowed me to sail 20 miles in a couple of hours.</div>
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These were the last two lakes to travel - Lake Francis Case and Lake Lewis and Clark - before getting back into the river with free flow all the way to St Louis.</div>
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I managed to find a sheltered bay the first night out that I shared with a huge beaver.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0Es8HP1OnJHuTJF1u40_ExyDJ_I7YWVFyViZNc9qudclsHhgZt3Zj78e_JcsMRybnfzwvUdeenN7989EwWIFSJsSqF6TMgL8YDvIobgT_FMGPPiDhSpf8tP2nNMOtJA9orE937ndSweg/s1600/DSCN0604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0Es8HP1OnJHuTJF1u40_ExyDJ_I7YWVFyViZNc9qudclsHhgZt3Zj78e_JcsMRybnfzwvUdeenN7989EwWIFSJsSqF6TMgL8YDvIobgT_FMGPPiDhSpf8tP2nNMOtJA9orE937ndSweg/s640/DSCN0604.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sheltered bay on Lake Francis Case</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My neighbour's house</span></b></td></tr>
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I made the mistake of leaving my cooking and eating utensils out overnight and woke up to find my titanium cooking pot lid and titanium spork (spoon/fork combo) missing.<br />
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I'm not one to accuse easily and I'm certainly no Sherlock Holmes but there were only two of us in the bay - you be the judge.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He is in there hiding .........</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>........... s</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-weight: bold;">preadeagled over my pot lid and spork</span></td></tr>
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I poked him with a stick a couple of times but he just played dead and I wasn't game to put my hand in and feel around in case I got ring-barked.</div>
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I paddled on and managed to get into Dock 44 marina just as a huge wind gust hit that would have caused me concern had I been out on the lake. No damage other than a snapped shaft holding the Aussie flag on the rear of my kayak (I had a spare).</div>
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I got to the marina restaurant and bar just before a storm arrived that lashed the place for an hour. I met Ron and Fred who had been sailing the lake in Ron's yacht. Their wives aren't keen sailors and they get away for a week each year. They're both from South Dakota but Fred now lives in California. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgERSTZIalUzPCR8zfQ0gefCDC-i-IAoXxT24CqxavxRoQqb0D811fVPy5fOCnFU-kZBkkRev5CZHM1MOTPmyuAkhV5MozTsOsiq_TpTIg4conIqkPn4K5Ivos0yTCxNmZGsEK5P_Id06/s1600/DSCN0591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgERSTZIalUzPCR8zfQ0gefCDC-i-IAoXxT24CqxavxRoQqb0D811fVPy5fOCnFU-kZBkkRev5CZHM1MOTPmyuAkhV5MozTsOsiq_TpTIg4conIqkPn4K5Ivos0yTCxNmZGsEK5P_Id06/s640/DSCN0591.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ron and Fred - the early evening storm served up a great sunset</span></b></td></tr>
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The guys invited me to camp on the aft deck of the yacht - I did and had a great nights sleep - a bonus not having to set up the tent.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuPMPBZlm6u5uwq5plASJ1FTN39umHTUgJnOqY74ikZhyzpeNBMmhgaBphvPM5Bm7HHAtxZYMtcWEym8rQDOsuf1DG5RcyCKzXes32WZqwAF7iQl0SV19-EE2n0RI7YvMlKRFJsd_jY4Q/s1600/DSCN0595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuPMPBZlm6u5uwq5plASJ1FTN39umHTUgJnOqY74ikZhyzpeNBMmhgaBphvPM5Bm7HHAtxZYMtcWEym8rQDOsuf1DG5RcyCKzXes32WZqwAF7iQl0SV19-EE2n0RI7YvMlKRFJsd_jY4Q/s640/DSCN0595.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Me</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ron and Fred in a better light</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnasGuv6xyH6CfUDqI7R_PCqbGSgvDMCJovBrbOVPqRK7-CwP7kaNH_Vfp0cyfgiu_g-DqDgMYq1VtJx9sYYbogV5WbyQdNuYFyc1o211g48NFATxKMbJMUgwezzTk4K-wE0w7QliQTgg/s1600/DSCN0601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnasGuv6xyH6CfUDqI7R_PCqbGSgvDMCJovBrbOVPqRK7-CwP7kaNH_Vfp0cyfgiu_g-DqDgMYq1VtJx9sYYbogV5WbyQdNuYFyc1o211g48NFATxKMbJMUgwezzTk4K-wE0w7QliQTgg/s640/DSCN0601.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I met Jodi from Oklahoma at Dock 44, she's working her way around the US with the ambition of visiting all 50 states - only 4 left to go. </span></b></td></tr>
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More headwinds the next day and I struggled to get around a headland to a sheltered bay and found Tom and Tyler camped up under a grove of cottonwood trees. It was nearly 100F in the shade but they had a fire going just to complete the camping scene; it was their second day there.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEN-kTbr4Zafu0KLeUgAIpyYjk80VfKCBLDQfQ-Lgz9rIPTa8VvVgnHWz0TacnhPaxBjseplSYLRuQIR1jO7TTHDNfmSc6fC37ly-Sy8zxYIoB46Ns78nCaSVTlzC_aVBhbh4-6KWK2S4i/s1600/DSCN0614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEN-kTbr4Zafu0KLeUgAIpyYjk80VfKCBLDQfQ-Lgz9rIPTa8VvVgnHWz0TacnhPaxBjseplSYLRuQIR1jO7TTHDNfmSc6fC37ly-Sy8zxYIoB46Ns78nCaSVTlzC_aVBhbh4-6KWK2S4i/s640/DSCN0614.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The things you see washed up on the beach - Flotsam and Jetsam A.K.A TnT</span></b></td></tr>
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I left the guys asleep early the next day and enjoyed sailing with a following swell pushed by a strong tailwind all the way to the dam at the end of the lake. Check it out ..........</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/e0zhwtKQw0Q?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I could't believe how TnT caught up so fast but they arrived only 30 minutes after me. We were contemplating how to get around the dam when Brad showed up with family and friends to launch his boat. I explained to him our situation and immediately received a 'how can I help?' attitude. We floated my kayak and TnT's canoe onto his trailer and minutes later we were in the river below the dam.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Brad, a farmer from South Dakota on holiday with his family.</span></b></td></tr>
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The tailwind continued and I sailed in a strong current for another 20 miles until almost dark. TnT had pulled over to camp earlier and I continued on to a riverside restaurant for dinner. I paddled past a group of riverside holiday homes and asked directions from a family that were out lazing around their dock and swimming in the warm water. They invited me to pull over and tie up which I did and within minutes of being on Nebraska soil for the first time I had a meal of roast brisket and potatoe salad in one hand and a beer in the other. These were the Madsen family from Omaha who I'm sure went to the same hospitality school as the Montanans and Dakotans I'd met up river. John is a Stockbroker and Sally a qualified architect that's kept in full time employment looking after John and their six children as a stay at home mum. </div>
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I had a much needed shower and spent the evening on their deck listening to country music as the kids put on a fireworks show. I met their son Michael and daughter Kate and another younger daughter (I'm embarrassed that I can't remember her name) who made me a "moshy" - a toasted marshmallow placed on a square of chocolate between two sweet crackers that you eat like a sandwich. I slept on a hammock in their garden and left early in the morning for the next and final dam at the end of Lake Lewis and Clark.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhka7nNVLGkKpio5Wz-EJbndApxPL9J9wymCV1NZOaR_CYY57dD0hS8d89f_4rU9PlU_e38-gwKSKDGx57GNn2WRNVCp9-GY6YRi4mrg49zPvOMxMeI1Sq__g5uI9wP5XtCrh2SQoiIpGOv/s1600/DSCN0627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhka7nNVLGkKpio5Wz-EJbndApxPL9J9wymCV1NZOaR_CYY57dD0hS8d89f_4rU9PlU_e38-gwKSKDGx57GNn2WRNVCp9-GY6YRi4mrg49zPvOMxMeI1Sq__g5uI9wP5XtCrh2SQoiIpGOv/s640/DSCN0627.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">View from the Madsen family's deck.</span></b></td></tr>
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The start of this lake was no different to the others, the first 6 hours were spent navigating around mud flats and sand bars.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Into the open lake at last</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQX8JdkSPg5beK1TziZNJ7cc9ErUDqqUS7R5v8MJXYcXqlE1bHywy58We-eY__fQjvlcQP5XDztLqJQ9o6ElI72TLPVo1K6XdZ2E767SL7ePvR3SbuDn0GkBALPS8oobFuVQ_G-ciULFm/s1600/DSCN0667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQX8JdkSPg5beK1TziZNJ7cc9ErUDqqUS7R5v8MJXYcXqlE1bHywy58We-eY__fQjvlcQP5XDztLqJQ9o6ElI72TLPVo1K6XdZ2E767SL7ePvR3SbuDn0GkBALPS8oobFuVQ_G-ciULFm/s640/DSCN0667.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ritch Stolpe owner of the Briar and Bow in Sioux City, Iowa</span></b></td></tr>
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I didn't have to ask this guy for help, we got talking as I was paddling past the RV park were he was staying about a mile from the dam. He asked me how I get around the dams and I told him that I usually find someone with a pickup and trailer to portage me. I can do that he said "I'll meet you at the ramp". Ritch is bow hunter and has combined his hobby with a business where he sells bow hunting equipment and runs an indoor archery range in Sioux City. He also sells briar pipes and tobacco. Once again, and for the last time, I'm around the dam in minutes.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The best view of Gavin's Point Dam</span></b></td></tr>
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The historic riverside town of Yanktown is only 5 miles downstream. I put my feet up and just floated down river in an 8 mph current enjoying every minute.<br />
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Only 805 miles to go.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-52889935779200279622012-08-12T14:29:00.001-07:002012-08-12T14:30:41.661-07:00The Boat<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4C-A9ORKxiAzAw-qhtcAiI-mQIeUXVwUvLAcRgbgNfdE7Zzd1MLsJm5GbbqCjlVCF8cXf02epecqaKmBhNgjQEYgoq1wWgbY1mJEUgQ_2sxXSLJVzECpA2WQX6Sal3eavgOjJTmj50WVu/s1600/DSCN0580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4C-A9ORKxiAzAw-qhtcAiI-mQIeUXVwUvLAcRgbgNfdE7Zzd1MLsJm5GbbqCjlVCF8cXf02epecqaKmBhNgjQEYgoq1wWgbY1mJEUgQ_2sxXSLJVzECpA2WQX6Sal3eavgOjJTmj50WVu/s640/DSCN0580.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ready to Load at Chamberlain SD</span></b></td></tr>
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After 1,600 miles (~2,500 kms) I feel I should say something about my experience so far in the "Barbara May" (the kayak not the wife).</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">I am not sponsored by or linked to Eddyline the manufacturer of the "Shasta" in any way so the following is my unbiased appraisal. I purchased the kayak solely on the recommendation of Andy Bugh who undertook the same journey last year and then continued on </span>down the Mississippi River to<span class="Apple-style-span"> the Gulf of Mexico.</span></div>
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Firstly I have to say that I can't imagine a more suitable boat for <u>me</u> to undertake this voyage. I am not an experienced kayaker and started this journey after only a few hours of paddling practice on the Swan River back home in Perth.</div>
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<b>Stability</b></div>
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My greatest concern was the kayaks ability to keep me upright knowing that I would be crossing some huge lakes that have a reputation for generating waves like the ocean - and they did. The first lake, Fort Peck 139 miles long, taught me a lesson when I misjudged the weather and got caught in 4-5 foot waves making a 3 mile crossing. At no time did I ever feel that the Shasta was going to tip or roll me over, even as I came in to the beach sideways to the waves. Although that experience was unnerving it gave me confidence on the larger lakes - Sakakawea 170 miles and Oahe 239 miles - to paddle and sail in rough conditions knowing that boat could handle it as long as I could. I have since, on Lake Francis Case, sailed 20 mile with a tailwind in 6 foot swells and enjoyed every minute - click on links below to see short video clips.</div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8zbr_5RTy7k&feature=plcp" target="_blank">Sailing Lake Francis Case 1</a><br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/e0zhwtKQw0Q" target="_blank">Sailing Lake Francis Case 2</a><br />
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<b>Handling</b></div>
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The Shasta is a joy to paddle, it glides easily over flat water and holds a true course with little need of the rudder to steer and it cuts through oncoming waves and troughs holding a steady course. With a following sea it will ride the swell and be be pushed forward as though surfing. The rudder is quick to respond when manoeuvring to avoid obstacles in fast river conditions and when turning to come up-stream into a ramp it is simple with a bit of back-paddling to assist the turn. </div>
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Under sail the Shasta is great, buying the WindPaddle sail has been the best equipment decision I've made and I highly recommend it to anyone undertaking distance kayaking. (I'm not sponsored by or linked to WindPaddle either)</div>
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<b>Storage</b></div>
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I've probably got too much "stuff" but can't decide what I don't need (see picture above). I like every thing to be stored as low as possible and the only things I have on the deck are my spare paddles, a cut down juice bottle with a sponge inside as a bailer, and a bow rope, all drums and dry bags are stored below deck in the roomy 9 ft cockpit. I'm over 6ft tall and still have plenty of leg room when fully loaded. While I don't rely on the front and back hatches to be waterproof they pretty much are, even with waves coming over the top they haven't let water in. The covers press on easily and the only moisture I seem to get inside is from condensation which I control by placing 2 pounds of rice in a cotton bag in each hold as a dessicate - a cheap $5 solution that works well.</div>
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I also purchased a fully fitted spray-skirt to keep me dry in rough conditions and a cockpit cover that keeps the rain and critters/snakes out and keeps my equipment out-of sight when I leave the boat unattended - they clip on over everything in the cockpit.</div>
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<b>Maintenance</b></div>
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Not much to do at all really. I flush the steerage peddles with water every day or so to remove any mud/grit/sand and I sponge out both inside and outside each week to keep the boat looking clean. The cockpit is totally uncluttered, no frames or ribs to collect or hide debris and the seat is easily removed and replaced to assist cleaning. The only part that possibly could get damaged is the rudder assembly if the kayak "reversed" onto an obstacle or embankment, but after 1,600 miles I have had no problems at all. The rudder is designed to kick-up if it runs aground or hits something while going forward.</div>
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<b>Service</b> (from Eddyline)</div>
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From my initial contact enquiring about the Shasta to arranging shipping to receiving the kayak in Bozeman Montana, Eddyline have been more than helpful. An enquiry to clarify the single rudder configuration was answered by phone immediately and a follow up photo attached to email was received within the hour. I've had no problems at all with Eddyline, the quality of their product or the service I've received from them.</div>
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<b>Summary</b></div>
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For a novice kayaker like me the "Shasta" has been a great buy and has lived up to everything I needed it to be - safe, reliable, responsive and fast; I'm sure a seasoned kayaker would make it sing and really get it to perform.</div>
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It would be an ideal boat for Australian conditions where every one of our major cities is situated on or near a river or an ocean estuary. The double configuration makes it a great day or weekender for two paddlers and it really comes in to it's own as a fully loaded single expedition kayak; I'd have no hesitation in paddling it in near coastal waters either.</div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-23987285297079887042012-07-30T19:32:00.000-07:002013-09-11T15:37:43.683-07:00Pierre SD (Mile 1065) to Chamberlain SD (Mile 968)<div style="text-align: justify;">
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The next 90 odd miles are mostly on Lake Sharpe, a few miles of current at the start and then lake conditions the rest of the way until crossing Big Bend Dam.</div>
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I left the Pierre Marina around 8 am and had a great day paddling on reasonably calm water and made it to a very nice campground called Joe's Creek. I never saw a boat or a person all day except for a couple of farmers checking their irrigation pumps just before dark in the evening. No one at Joe's Creek either so I slept under the shelter there safe from any over night rain and no need to put up the tent - bonus; over 40 miles covered.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95j515cSCViiAcK9Z6-jDywnQdhbCBKgWOzwvG73kC-74P2sXuCmjj2xp_vkjZ43haW56OhCy9oIkegfnOB3XXj89Q8e8hXhsUQk_r51UAlIT3c5RG0P9gvqUQqp0SrumkLu8xSR1ujMw/s1600/DSCN0512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95j515cSCViiAcK9Z6-jDywnQdhbCBKgWOzwvG73kC-74P2sXuCmjj2xp_vkjZ43haW56OhCy9oIkegfnOB3XXj89Q8e8hXhsUQk_r51UAlIT3c5RG0P9gvqUQqp0SrumkLu8xSR1ujMw/s640/DSCN0512.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The 'Barbara May' packed and ready to go at Pierre Marina - TnT still asleep in tent behind.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Brothers Justin and Stacey come to check their irrigation pumps</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfnuc7dkhyeuDkqfTBaOFhO_hm75YLQQJCNF0UulBNZXoL7oinPIfMijtcid_sBtjYMHJP1JE9eOaq7Je-1yl-vqb9Qbs_EpR8OnFdpKcfWXMJOHwujHIGumRXWjP8N5OfvnuerOZE7XZ/s1600/DSCN0518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfnuc7dkhyeuDkqfTBaOFhO_hm75YLQQJCNF0UulBNZXoL7oinPIfMijtcid_sBtjYMHJP1JE9eOaq7Je-1yl-vqb9Qbs_EpR8OnFdpKcfWXMJOHwujHIGumRXWjP8N5OfvnuerOZE7XZ/s640/DSCN0518.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Enjoying a beer with the brothers about 5 miles from Joe's Creek</b></span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>Explanatory Note:</b></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Reading over the blog and looking at the photos it appears that I've always got a beer in my hand and that I seem to be going from one bar to another - well there's a reason for that: <b>1)</b> Bars in the US nearly always have free wifi where I can Skype home, check my emails, save my photos and update this blog, <b>2)</b> Nearly everyone I meet on the river/lakes are out boating/fishing/BBQing and are more than happy to share their beer, <b>3)</b> I've earned it.</span></span></div>
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Lake Sharpe is a real pretty lake with a beautiful shoreline and nice sandy gravely beaches but it can be unpredictable and change from smooth to rough very quickly. The second day on the lake I only managed 12 miles and spent most of the day sheltering on a reedy sandbank behind driftwood.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfbbeHrQJmheOzlRKM1l88_IR7vXAUq8otaUGfacLeszgO1kMb3BkimzQvlRzhHEP58aCqOd_zUWT_nHl7_gm1dSEX814EfAnfa_7blXxV_Dt8RRqNxOK58WvqAibuEVIbA8Z2aof6Agd/s1600/DSCN0519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfbbeHrQJmheOzlRKM1l88_IR7vXAUq8otaUGfacLeszgO1kMb3BkimzQvlRzhHEP58aCqOd_zUWT_nHl7_gm1dSEX814EfAnfa_7blXxV_Dt8RRqNxOK58WvqAibuEVIbA8Z2aof6Agd/s640/DSCN0519.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lake Sharpe - as calm as can be.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkiD5mM8EV-OeFXf9qC2p9XHJTFZUPWFfzAoOmtH8lxSUZMNbzoRVSh9eaRhlYTD1ppSEHIZoK_a8lMEjoF_PRaah9VbkheljZuZ-wfQfjxWdJ7zqZu9w2yMmHjhEHREhjNQN-Wu_9yom/s1600/DSCN0531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkiD5mM8EV-OeFXf9qC2p9XHJTFZUPWFfzAoOmtH8lxSUZMNbzoRVSh9eaRhlYTD1ppSEHIZoK_a8lMEjoF_PRaah9VbkheljZuZ-wfQfjxWdJ7zqZu9w2yMmHjhEHREhjNQN-Wu_9yom/s640/DSCN0531.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lake Sharpe - as rough as can be.</span></b></td></tr>
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Check out this clip for an understanding of the difficulty of paddling into a headwind .........</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-J1P8Vp-Gc0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I managed another mile in the above conditions and a found a marginally acceptable camping spot right on the waterline and went to sleep hoping the upstream dam didn't release more water overnight. It didn't and I woke up dry, purposely in the dark to check the weather, and made a crossing of the lake as the sun came up with the intention of getting to the lee shore. I was lucky and timed it just right, as, the wind came up again just as I reached shore fierce enough that would have prevented me crossing had I not started when I did. I navigated around a feature called 'big bend' where the lake meanders 20 odd miles around a big bend to bring me back to within a couple of miles of where I was the day before.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Self portrait</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Around the "big bend' at last Lake Sharpe</span></b></td></tr>
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Only about 5 miles from the end of the lake I went ashore to the town of Lower Brule on the Indian Reservation to see if I could find a coffee shop. I was told the only place to get a coffee was at the casino, so looking like a hobo/tramp I went in and was greeted royally by the Manager and directed to the restaurant, given a table and ordered the lunch special - crumbed beef steak with mash potatoe, biscuits and gravy and help yourself to as much as you want for the salad bar - I did and all for $5. I tipped the waitress 100% to show that I wasn't a cheapskate and she informed me that on Mondays it's only $2 for seniors over 50. I told her that I'm a bit too young but my friend <b>Norm Miller</b> will be there every week from next year on!</div>
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I felt good paddling the next 5 miles and pulled in to the take-out ramp at Big Bend dam. I had a list of phone numbers to call for assistance with portaging around the dam to the river below. But no luck at all as the numbers were either obsolete or the person was not in town or available. I had a bit of a snooze wondering what to do next and hoping that somebody would come along with a vehicle big enough to cart the kayak. Fifteen minutes later (I kid you not) Ted and Jason from the Black Hills turned up in a big pick-up to wait for their friend who was going to take them out fishing. Ten minutes later I was back in the water downstream helped by two guys who believed there act of kindness would bring them good luck fishing.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"The universe will provide" <i>Mark McLean</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6Px5cQZkb1Zoc2SIC86A6p0IyzlTQ7y8hd9o6Aw_pc_HB57BrkoUCb_T8WzgRlTBkdCmsTyIFo5exQMmScmVXVO31f0DiOnQJh9a7gKdTp4TsvqtpL90M5aArHgIV-aTN_9IBvB0nT9c/s1600/DSCN0543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ6Px5cQZkb1Zoc2SIC86A6p0IyzlTQ7y8hd9o6Aw_pc_HB57BrkoUCb_T8WzgRlTBkdCmsTyIFo5exQMmScmVXVO31f0DiOnQJh9a7gKdTp4TsvqtpL90M5aArHgIV-aTN_9IBvB0nT9c/s640/DSCN0543.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ted an Jason - 'paying it forward' at Big Bend dam</span></b></td></tr>
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Lake Sharpe empties into Lake Francis Case and I was looking forward to a bit of flow from the dam release for a few miles. No such luck, within half a mile of being back on the water the wind came up strong enough to reverse the current with white caps blowing up the river. Another night and most of the next day spent on a marginally acceptable camp site sheltering from the wind.</div>
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I headed off the next day at 5 in the afternoon for the river town of Chamberlain SD.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9AZxMQU6AyVA6JmlCSJ2NgsfEu9ZxhlkwxZ7CB7NAdMkhnnp0gPNmojFlGi7SMni3tNl7s0KEkIFkcmIS4AM7qSi3cLVU0lX3yoHUYo2tIN3076bNFQg4aAaxbBGJqr2zyLM-SivnkY8/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9AZxMQU6AyVA6JmlCSJ2NgsfEu9ZxhlkwxZ7CB7NAdMkhnnp0gPNmojFlGi7SMni3tNl7s0KEkIFkcmIS4AM7qSi3cLVU0lX3yoHUYo2tIN3076bNFQg4aAaxbBGJqr2zyLM-SivnkY8/s640/DSC_0016.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Birds</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zflxNXrgqb0lhEh8-3F2YOo7F_DpkI3xNVsogwBf2Wweh8HXYPDqHu8oPCzG6DhCQSTKRaZrmXvcbaeQbm54DIkj0h2BbXQL-ns1qa6BII_HNbvkI_S4jXPiHTaR4ufK2aKlQicVIhqn/s1600/DSC_0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zflxNXrgqb0lhEh8-3F2YOo7F_DpkI3xNVsogwBf2Wweh8HXYPDqHu8oPCzG6DhCQSTKRaZrmXvcbaeQbm54DIkj0h2BbXQL-ns1qa6BII_HNbvkI_S4jXPiHTaR4ufK2aKlQicVIhqn/s640/DSC_0018.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Birds a bit closer</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriFG06EqgKPOFqPSuADf0JwX_6m4fcfrTymj6MerCFC3WAFkeyQUMGbF7ogqiJNSbv_bg5q5N9Ff_cKjN6_pPVjtdEdC5OTRcfSghPHCaRJ398vSRgeHiieMJ2kI4tbdcPwJIvmjc2vsh/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriFG06EqgKPOFqPSuADf0JwX_6m4fcfrTymj6MerCFC3WAFkeyQUMGbF7ogqiJNSbv_bg5q5N9Ff_cKjN6_pPVjtdEdC5OTRcfSghPHCaRJ398vSRgeHiieMJ2kI4tbdcPwJIvmjc2vsh/s640/DSC_0031.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some more birds</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4Yn1YLv0mvMJT7ztNnHxiIUpmcgyuREbXOiKxDGlOibAdfdPKEJ3-I2pcBOR7KRPc48HJLueUgkKT0eMIH0x7bQQWL7gcLdD_JwE9EttZK7dPN5VYk-Ky-isGA2NwjU40ecX9kXbjxai/s1600/DSCN0545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4Yn1YLv0mvMJT7ztNnHxiIUpmcgyuREbXOiKxDGlOibAdfdPKEJ3-I2pcBOR7KRPc48HJLueUgkKT0eMIH0x7bQQWL7gcLdD_JwE9EttZK7dPN5VYk-Ky-isGA2NwjU40ecX9kXbjxai/s640/DSCN0545.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Navigating the submerged forrest on the way to Chamberlain SD</span></b></td></tr>
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The weather was kind and I made the 15 miles to Chamberlain by 8 in the evening and set up my tent in the American Creek Campground. Hot showers, grocery store, laundromat nearby and only a couple of hundred metres from the main street in town - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"It doesn't get better than this" <i>Sue Maslin</i></span>.</div>
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Rob and Brenda that own the place were very welcoming and understand that paddlers like to set up camp close to the river to keep an eye on their kayaks/canoes. They let me camp right next to the ramp even though it was technically reserved for a visiting scout group.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyHvbHJnXeAP2A0MP8ZVczp5VI_lh8BXtZ_gFGzhOeS9hFRmdytg5KPxHIUfxsQXGsQQER3rMI2DgmXa-1f1sb1kSCO6IpopAMT4PpRBclwCc-6YC-95IRG-7mjBC56IjB_1OxFwi6STZ/s1600/DSCN0564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyHvbHJnXeAP2A0MP8ZVczp5VI_lh8BXtZ_gFGzhOeS9hFRmdytg5KPxHIUfxsQXGsQQER3rMI2DgmXa-1f1sb1kSCO6IpopAMT4PpRBclwCc-6YC-95IRG-7mjBC56IjB_1OxFwi6STZ/s640/DSCN0564.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">American Creek Campground - Chamberlain SD</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The <b>298 Scout Troop</b> were from <b>Apple Vally, Minnesota</b> on their way to a camp in the Black hills a couple of hundred miles to the west. They invited me over to share their camp fire and asked lots of questions about my trip to date. One of the leaders/parents had the coolest name - Rich Billion; nice guys, all of them.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJe-QQGjOfan8TMpGs2YNFVoJw7ERPZjN1iWlF95lMAoXManQu1eCGHOOTgHv5ctGGYJFx7CO2vxk8EdgJIw3-kDl05QN8D4Co1UHtTYhZOv8LuU7P9xauvD5bt-bhErMmecZht0c5rN6/s1600/DSCN0552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJe-QQGjOfan8TMpGs2YNFVoJw7ERPZjN1iWlF95lMAoXManQu1eCGHOOTgHv5ctGGYJFx7CO2vxk8EdgJIw3-kDl05QN8D4Co1UHtTYhZOv8LuU7P9xauvD5bt-bhErMmecZht0c5rN6/s640/DSCN0552.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rich Billion and the 298 Troop</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuIQoXy94y8ltS4jpacRAteKEnuJ2p9x3C5GHPbttUHRYrInQPfrjBykqovC4s5wjZRGYU90sM-voGvIw5G_cpaqVFJy3JnBF8G27QB0TXDMAjO2lO-52EQHNsTq9KB2y2D1uFMVst9Dw/s1600/DSCN0556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuIQoXy94y8ltS4jpacRAteKEnuJ2p9x3C5GHPbttUHRYrInQPfrjBykqovC4s5wjZRGYU90sM-voGvIw5G_cpaqVFJy3JnBF8G27QB0TXDMAjO2lO-52EQHNsTq9KB2y2D1uFMVst9Dw/s640/DSCN0556.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A fine body of men - and me.</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2A4tUSOqCGjjOYRSTtPhdOHNW9fbmwefPFCBfVl5sIuDeKMUKD0r-FrOoFlw80IIqXlG6JQwl0-y6Y8_PkQ2gh3PNtQeB1L_tkybi3y-Ou1fra-PtkeiUHwIzjxxjW1uZ20IGrdb012XT/s1600/DSCN0570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2A4tUSOqCGjjOYRSTtPhdOHNW9fbmwefPFCBfVl5sIuDeKMUKD0r-FrOoFlw80IIqXlG6JQwl0-y6Y8_PkQ2gh3PNtQeB1L_tkybi3y-Ou1fra-PtkeiUHwIzjxxjW1uZ20IGrdb012XT/s640/DSCN0570.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">History of Chamberlain</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yellow ribbons on trees for each person from the town serving in Iraq and Afghanistan</span></b></td></tr>
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We're not far from the town of Sturgis here where the Harley Davidson rally takes place in early August each year, so the town, the state and this part of the country are seeing thousands of Harley riders all heading that way. I was invited over for coffee this morning with a group from Florida and Missouri overnighting at the campground. They told me all about the rally (around 400,000 bikes turn up) and how it has changed over the years - Pat, from Kansas City has been going for 26 years. I told them that I wished I was going with them but there was general agreement amongst them that I looked a bit gay in my Fiji shirt and wouldn't fit in. It's still on the bucket list of things to do before I grow up though.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_loBefQI-2mGw7QrD77Yiw8bIGztoPiF7UKl7OljtiG2Q1GFhD__E0tJH4UP-Whc6eldCUbROIs9PGUNWXer1S2RD3qsoaeLD1HKvNPkX3Esw36RMIY5-iHRbJlrPWwApC5mmBIYGSlt/s1600/DSCN0567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_loBefQI-2mGw7QrD77Yiw8bIGztoPiF7UKl7OljtiG2Q1GFhD__E0tJH4UP-Whc6eldCUbROIs9PGUNWXer1S2RD3qsoaeLD1HKvNPkX3Esw36RMIY5-iHRbJlrPWwApC5mmBIYGSlt/s640/DSCN0567.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pat, Mike, Gina and Paco.</span></b></td></tr>
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<b>Note to Wife:</b></div>
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Start budgeting for the rally, get yourself some leather pants, don't worry about a top the guys reckon you won't need it in Sturgis.</div>
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Next stop Fort Randal Dam SD about 90 miles away.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-68343421477174273572012-07-24T17:16:00.001-07:002012-12-10T19:14:04.398-08:00Bismark ND (Mile 1312) to Pierre SD(Mile 1065)<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm now in Pierre the capital city of South Dakota having spent eleven days on Lake Oahe. Oahe has the reputation of being the most dangerous lake along the Missouri River, not just for paddlers but also for fishing and recreational boats with large outboard motors. Best advice is to get to shore at the first signs of deteriorating weather; everybody I spoke to had stories of unpredictable weather changes and storms that created huge waves. </div>
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While I was spared the worst of it I did get a taste for strong headwinds and rough water during the day and spectacular lightning storms at night. The difficult paddling was sometimes made sweeter by tail winds that allowed me to sail for ten mile stretches at high speed, at times having to reef my sail down to half its size to prevent overtaking the wave in front and possibly turning the kayak sideways to the wind. </div>
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Apologies for the poor quality but check out this clip ......</div>
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The lake is over 230 miles long with 2,250 miles of shoreline made up of undulating grassy hills, shingle beaches and shady bays that offer good shelter from the weather. It's hard at times to believe you are crossing freshwater as it feels and looks more like an ocean coastline. The lake meanders in places doubling back on itself causing you to paddle 20 miles only to be 2 miles the other side of the hill that you were at 5 hours before. When still the water becomes crystal clear allowing you to see fish 10 - 15 feet down; Australia would just love a dozen lakes like this scattered throughout the interior.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The current helped carry me into the lake from Bismark and I made 37 miles the first day and camped near Fort Rice. Fort Rice was established in1864, the first of a chain of forts intended to provide protection for Euro-American settlers. Fort Rice became one of the most important military posts on the Upper Missouri River.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Surprisingly I caught up with Tyler and Tom on the second day and I paddled on and off with them as our paths crossed; their strategy for navigating the lake was different to mine.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here they are complaining about the heat ...........</span></div>
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<b>The hospitality continues:</b><br />
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I heard that I could get a burger, a shower and my laundry done at the StateLine Resort so I called in and met the Moser family that own and run the place, as well as a farming property that raises buffalo, grows corn and other crops that I saw but can't remember what they were.</div>
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Diane and Ken own the campground and RV park but let their grandson Jackson run the show. He's a really nice young man that is going places in life. He speaks fluent spanish and is studying criminology at university with the aim of joining the FBI or similar; I suspect he will end up running the agency one day.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK5km9FVVvKSYPq2x0JD3qh7g1SrXjgIts1Ucx2ReP5wmDr2M4LyTuLuVuucwxGDN34GefE2QDQYQoOvZRT7JDm4L7utuo6D5cJQjr8C2DJ6jUGQkGoIwBVpBDaj1GJhVC_kEUbzuMcmV8/s1600/DSCN0438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK5km9FVVvKSYPq2x0JD3qh7g1SrXjgIts1Ucx2ReP5wmDr2M4LyTuLuVuucwxGDN34GefE2QDQYQoOvZRT7JDm4L7utuo6D5cJQjr8C2DJ6jUGQkGoIwBVpBDaj1GJhVC_kEUbzuMcmV8/s640/DSCN0438.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Ken and Diane with grandaughter (?) and grandson Jackson</b></span></td></tr>
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Son KJ runs the farming property that straddles the North and South Dakota border. KJ gave me a tour of the farm and explained how they raise the buffalo ready for market and how the huge circular water irrigators work.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With KJ on the farm</span></b></td></tr>
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Headwinds forced TnT ashore and we all stayed for two nights. It was so hot the second night that KJ gave us the use of his air conditioned RV and told us to watch some dvd's and help ourselves to burgers and beer in the fridge - we did. Diane had fed us buffalo cheeseburgers during the day - a more generous, welcoming family you'd be hard pressed to find. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boys in the bar</span></b></td></tr>
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Jackson took us in to the town of Pollock on the saturday evening to hear a rock band performing at the annual Dairy Days festival. I thought the fireworks were to celebrate me paddling 1,000 miles but apparently not. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">First South Dakotan sunset</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lake Oahe wild life</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDKcRt4rUzYztXxYz_dFcA0B1OgOFaRhBLcExlQc3hsQ3gS2hBUjnVv3b1hclJuc_anlXNoLihNXAl9xevFKE2gETrvqI1P-6wQwPjVaXJqE1TXQ-Tjyrc-mbnz-uejpIrHtmtxIZE8ij/s1600/DSCN0459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDKcRt4rUzYztXxYz_dFcA0B1OgOFaRhBLcExlQc3hsQ3gS2hBUjnVv3b1hclJuc_anlXNoLihNXAl9xevFKE2gETrvqI1P-6wQwPjVaXJqE1TXQ-Tjyrc-mbnz-uejpIrHtmtxIZE8ij/s640/DSCN0459.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shady campsite Lake Oahe</span></b></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My paddling book advised me to call in at the Bridge City Marina which I did and again had that good fortune of meeting the owners, the Norder family have recently bought the place. Daughter inlaw Blythe and son Brent gave me a good rate on a large cabin with 6 bunks and ensuite shower/toilet. I sent a text to TnT on the off chance that there were coming through town and wanting a break - they turned up not long after. Headwinds forced us to stay two nights and dad Mike spent the afternoon running me around town and then invited the three of us to a barbecue that evening with his family.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ephpJAH09ep49QPN7N4WSWaOg7xqzPx5Xk07VdVFeJl2y98VDW0MgsY3InmunMtXvV_R_dbb-4Py1RrKJhaAjauNrWj0R9iRcm2a2sjUvaHKX6xtda2Q8YhqN4ZmPHX3Mqghf7mWuDHR/s1600/DSCN0457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ephpJAH09ep49QPN7N4WSWaOg7xqzPx5Xk07VdVFeJl2y98VDW0MgsY3InmunMtXvV_R_dbb-4Py1RrKJhaAjauNrWj0R9iRcm2a2sjUvaHKX6xtda2Q8YhqN4ZmPHX3Mqghf7mWuDHR/s640/DSCN0457.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyy2R4xT_UN7C-vHUq3zgVF_UEeSDCcnNe840aklCQXLJwnkS3P1bwEGCzVXDopJUT2BKTUt5Oy6w2nJrx_rIIfnwlYWwCXSftmlDASO1VC-DFcKhfW38mUjVSlV9rFo-simigha7RoDPO/s1600/SSC_0538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a></div>
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<b>Here they are: Blythe, Brent Ashton, Mike and Jesse and the twin boys with Tom, myself and Tyler at the back.</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sundown on Lake Oahe</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">.<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">... and another.</span></b></td></tr>
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I met Doug Jasa at Bush's Landing as he was pulling his boat out after a days fishing with three friends. I asked if there was a campground nearby where I could get a shower and meal, he said there was but I could use his shower and he'd give me lift to the cafe later.</div>
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Doug owns a holiday home high above Lake Oahe with panoramic views for 30 miles up and downstream. The guys invited me to stay the night and cooked a fine meal of their days catch - Walleye, the choice fish of the region - grilled, marinated crumbed and deep fried with grilled pheasant, a spinach salad and a few beers. For an entree Doug cooked me a premium beef burger covered in cheese as he knew I'd been hanging out for one. We spent the evening in the basement home theatre watching a war movie on the big screen.</div>
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Lots of interesting furnishings in the house, mostly hunting and fishing related, including a bison head on the wall called Bob.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bob, Bob and Doug</span></b></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVtYbs3QyNceKajMIuRyKc3Or92B1hH38X4Joa0A-nb74AVq2zW9TPRUuJH0Nxu2HivcRtUuGKT66Mh2gun2KPpAPUUb6n0hUoL04VHox7jZT76q9bbIi28SyLCVaX1xI02F8qq23mKE4/s1600/DSCN0483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVtYbs3QyNceKajMIuRyKc3Or92B1hH38X4Joa0A-nb74AVq2zW9TPRUuJH0Nxu2HivcRtUuGKT66Mh2gun2KPpAPUUb6n0hUoL04VHox7jZT76q9bbIi28SyLCVaX1xI02F8qq23mKE4/s640/DSCN0483.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<b>Doug's neighbours are building a solid log home overlooking the lake.</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The guys, Doug, Lance and Bill (Jim not in the picture unfortunately)</span></b></td></tr>
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I left in the morning with an invite to call Doug in a few weeks when I get to Omaha, Nebraska.<br />
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The next night I made it to Pike's Haven (about 25 river miles) where they have a reputation for serving the best rib-eye steaks anywhere on the river. I needed the protein so ordered the special of the day, it hit the spot and I paddled 35 miles to the dam the next day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJ6oPq_Yqgxnk8q4_qJykaqkzSboILUYllT3byltS9IqXnxOX-Eq1Yukh3I3sxjOYovaXmjNadiTbTzPPpaNdX8SSWGGJMog8qTrsbM67rfnvHFoKrSpUuJJgdAdrlL_hK9Xi_Zo6hp-m/s1600/DSCN0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJ6oPq_Yqgxnk8q4_qJykaqkzSboILUYllT3byltS9IqXnxOX-Eq1Yukh3I3sxjOYovaXmjNadiTbTzPPpaNdX8SSWGGJMog8qTrsbM67rfnvHFoKrSpUuJJgdAdrlL_hK9Xi_Zo6hp-m/s640/DSCN0495.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boys in the bar - George, Greg, me and Ron.</span></b></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4uHgpLZ7kFEkIEpGtLbhtOIycP1iUGAZr5L_5SJ83TCu9Zy1GrCK55xJMYrPckPnL4nksp3ZZp5cFKEu4ZfkszVVQxxMqrq3F96FrweM21qjW3Yp3pqOliNIhebKBWh9BfVrMSXfE1NP7/s1600/SSC_0550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4uHgpLZ7kFEkIEpGtLbhtOIycP1iUGAZr5L_5SJ83TCu9Zy1GrCK55xJMYrPckPnL4nksp3ZZp5cFKEu4ZfkszVVQxxMqrq3F96FrweM21qjW3Yp3pqOliNIhebKBWh9BfVrMSXfE1NP7/s640/SSC_0550.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div>
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<b>A Lake Oahe beach</b></div>
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Those of you that have never paddled a 239 mile lake may not appreciate the sheer relief and joy of feeling the keel slide up the take-out ramp at the end. It was just bliss akin to "one small step for man .....". </div>
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College students Cabe, Colin and Dylan turned up with a jet ski and I asked if they'ed portage me on their trailer to the marina below the dam, they did and I bought them a case of beer.</div>
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I had no idea if TnT were in front or behind but an hour later they turned up and we had a six pack celebration before we put into the current for a final paddle to Pierre, SD.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lake Oahe survivors - are we happy or what?</span></b></td></tr>
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I went to Fort Pierre on the right hand shore as I needed to collect a package from Barb at the Post Office there. I'm missing her terribly, she would have loved the sights I've seen, the experiences I've had and meeting the people I'v'e met (and they her) but I know she wouldn't have enjoyed the effort to get there. </div>
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Shortly after coming ashore in the dark Pat Welland, a local river paddler, turned up for a chat and offer of assistance if I need it while in the area. Pat has been following my progress over the last few weeks and has been in contact by email and text. He is very knowledgable on the river conditions downstream and his offer of help is much appreciated. </div>
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Norm and Kristen also sent me a food package of all the things a paddler would enjoy at the half way mark. TnT went to the city proper on the left hand shore.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpwVyr5lilSa8RGU1c2DQlTOjnipnWscF4PPFAJul_JybsTk8gxdNXqt7NQ8MaRFKMqZr6IJu-ZbLvlmj8NpGPTIgaYGm0VnD25ufsgyOu5beC87T0EsYI-OdUDbXGT-QfvOsDsNHGHZp0/s1600/DSCN0506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpwVyr5lilSa8RGU1c2DQlTOjnipnWscF4PPFAJul_JybsTk8gxdNXqt7NQ8MaRFKMqZr6IJu-ZbLvlmj8NpGPTIgaYGm0VnD25ufsgyOu5beC87T0EsYI-OdUDbXGT-QfvOsDsNHGHZp0/s640/DSCN0506.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Food package from the Bozeman support crew - bloody legends!</span></b></td></tr>
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I crossed the river the following day to a marina/campground where I knew I could get a shower; I tied up next to TnT's canoe. They weren't there but I met Leroy on holiday from Minnesota. Some people you just click with and he and I spent a couple of hours solving the problems of the world as we waited for the bar to open - I can't remember when I've laughed so much. He's a retired postal worker visiting his brother here. His dad was the county sheriff back in Minnesota and when he died Leroy scored his sheriffs star that he keeps in wallet just handy enough to flash to highway patrolman when he gets stopped for speeding or an ID check - he's not got a ticket in 20 years!</div>
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I asked him about the upcoming election "I don't like either of them" he said "I kinda liked Sarah Palin" ... say no more.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8tutNw2JqO69hQ4AelMHBXxO57YnEXZE4v7_R1gRB2K9xKork25v2T3gXUJzIaczxUyXhRWqOYJ5Ucq-KmfYSY7IPHxc0vIH5yoxKsO0ylpTk9bO0nOwePIh7YLVUK0m42Gw0o_FaKnWG/s1600/DSCN0507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8tutNw2JqO69hQ4AelMHBXxO57YnEXZE4v7_R1gRB2K9xKork25v2T3gXUJzIaczxUyXhRWqOYJ5Ucq-KmfYSY7IPHxc0vIH5yoxKsO0ylpTk9bO0nOwePIh7YLVUK0m42Gw0o_FaKnWG/s640/DSCN0507.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Leroy - the greatest guy visiting the river in 2012.</span></b></td></tr>
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The bar and bait shop at the marina are owned by Shelley, here she is with a couple of bad boys that she's known since school days. I met her husband Dwayne and two of her four children that live with here in Pierre. She is a great hostess that looks after all her customers well, especially TnT that are travelling on a shoestring budget. I worry for the business as I don't hear the cash register ringing much over the laughter in the bar.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGGt9B2P5bk9pAykPgIn6tOxYVt2H4MLN3ZmcjjBDL9TqXhTfPgtpTtfdx40yI0WBHpr_tzbSAopGkAOJUgTJfLejwo7GtWIJZiffrhUlE6dQKRV_tuYZktbAlXJuyWBNWIGz4nRoRWLf/s1600/DSCN0510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGGt9B2P5bk9pAykPgIn6tOxYVt2H4MLN3ZmcjjBDL9TqXhTfPgtpTtfdx40yI0WBHpr_tzbSAopGkAOJUgTJfLejwo7GtWIJZiffrhUlE6dQKRV_tuYZktbAlXJuyWBNWIGz4nRoRWLf/s640/DSCN0510.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Seriously bad boys Jay and Gary with me (good boy) and Shelley.</span></b></td></tr>
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Pat Welland turned up last night to meet TnT before they leave today, I'll catch them up in a day or two.<br />
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Thanks for all the emails and messages I really appreciate it.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-48726426992316526472012-07-12T00:35:00.001-07:002012-07-24T09:24:57.412-07:00Garrison Dam(Mile 1390) to Bismark ND (Mile 1312)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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I phoned the Park Rangers Office from the Garrison Dam marina and Ranger Darren turned up within ten minutes in a pick-up truck to portage me a couple of miles to the downstream campground. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ranger Darren</span></b></td></tr>
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Great to back on the river with good flow that carried me 10 miles with little effort to a very comfortable campsite.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Swallow nests in mud cliffs along the river.</span></b><br />
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I met Mary-Beth and her husband Howard at the Washburn Bridge just before they floated down the river in their catamaran kayaks that they had just finished lashing together. I caught up with them, their kids and friends an hour later playing baseball on a sand island.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mary-Beth and Howard</span></b></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Michael and Deanne looked after my kayak while I went into Washburn for a cheeseburger and a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice-cream. Michael is ham radio enthusiast in contact with people around the world including Australia. </span></span></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Michael and Deanne and their boys fishing near Washburn Bridge.</span></b></div>
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Fortunes can change very quickly on this river. One minute, tired and hungry, I'm looking for a place to set up camp and an hour later I'm sitting in a riverside home, all showered with a meal and a glass of red wine in front of me.</div>
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I met Mark and Margaret just on dark while they were out enjoying an evening float on their pontoon boat. A brief conversation as I was paddling by led to an invite to stay at their home for the night. I stayed for two, and enjoyed a day with them at their home overlooking the river and a relaxing morning and evening cruise up and down stream.</div>
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Mark is the founder of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 21px;"><em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Sources of Strength</em><em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </em></span>a company providing training to community leaders working with individuals at risk of self harm. Margaret works closely with families of children with special needs. I had a great weekend with these two people that made me feel really welcome and at home. They will be a definite stop over on our next US trip and I'll be disappointed if we don't see them in Perth one day soon.</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The 2011 flood caused extensive damage to many river homes. The house above slipped into the river when its garden embankments scoured out.</span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Trophy home near Bismark, North Dakota</span></b></td></tr>
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This last section of river has been challenging in places due to shallow water and countless sandbars making it difficult to follow any definite channel. However, I made it to Bismark the capital of North Dakota, enjoyed a couple of beers in the Broken Oar Bar with a local patron Randy Higgins and rested and re-supplied before tackling the biggest dam on the river, Lake Oahe some 230 miles long.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Randy Higgins</span></b></td></tr>
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The boys, TnT, are now 2 days ahead of me, I expect to see them over the next week somewhere on the lake.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-67782783854127352582012-07-04T15:46:00.000-07:002012-07-11T19:47:05.208-07:00Williston ND (Mile 1552) to Garrison Dam (Mile 1390)<br />
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Sakakawea is a man made lake around 162 miles long varying between 2 and 5 miles wide. The Missouri River enters it from the west and it is dammed in the east. As the river slows it drops its sediment load and hundreds of marshy muddy islands are formed, some covered in shrubs and dead vegetation that grew in the years when the water was low and died when they became water logged in high water years. Navigating through the western end of the lake is problematic as the mud islands shift and new channels are formed, some leading nowhere. Best advice from those that know the lake is to stay in the main channel even though it may appear to take you away from your intended destination.</div>
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Stay in the main channel I did as I made my way to an established campground called the American Legion Park where I intended to order the biggest cheeseburger on the menu and enjoy it with a couple of ice cold beers; I arrived around 7:30 in the evening to find it closed or more accurately not yet open for the season. I resorted to Plan B and had Macaroni Cheese which I hadn't had for at least 24 hours. I camped under the cover of their fully covered basketball court well sheltered from any overnight rain and enjoyed not having to put up the tent.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">View across the mud islands from American Legion Park boat ramp</span></b></td></tr>
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In the morning I weaved my way back and forth following the main channel until I came to open water. I stayed on the north shore and battled a headwind until I came to the Lewis and Clark Park a very neat, tidy and sheltered campground and marina.</div>
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I decided to stay the night and make an early crossing in the morning if the waters were calm. I met Jerry the camp Groundsman who chauffeured me to the store and back as I seemed to be the only one there without transport. Jerry is from Michigan State and works the summer season at the park each year and then goes back home to be near his grandchildren for the winter.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jerry the camp Groundsman</span></b></td></tr>
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I got talking to Leroy and Joanne from Williston who had booked into the park for the 4th July week. They were well set up with their fully equipped RV that can tow a trailer and a car - apparently a triple is legal up to 56 feet. Leroy was preparing his camp fire to cook over the coals and invited me to join them. Hotdogs, ice cold coke, fresh fruit and vegetables and salsa dip around the camp fire with good company was a great way to spend the evening.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Leroy and Joanne from Williston ND</span></b></td></tr>
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Leroy is a retired school teacher/administrator and sports coach and Joanne Manages the Fred and Clair Eckart Foundation, a not for profit organisation that provides care, accommodation and support for 'at risk' kids between 12 - 18 years of age.</div>
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A couple of years ago they scored a trip to Australia when Leroy was asked to coach a local team playing in the Golf DownUnder Challenge. The tournament was in Queensland so they got to visit the Barrier Reef, a highpoint they said in their travels so far. Wonderful people, I enjoyed my time with them.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Beautiful undulating shoreline of Lake Sakakawea</span></b></td></tr>
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Seven o'clock in the evening and I'm invited onboard a pontoon boat to share a beer and roast beef and horseradish sandwich. These guys were just out relaxing, eating and drinking and enjoying the calm weather as I was paddling my way to New Town where I hoped to re-supply. The pontoon boat was like a lounge room on floats - very comfortable. Jodie (with the smiley face tee-shirt) phoned a friend at the New Town Casino Motel and secured me a room, I set off with 2 hours to get there but unfortunately I didn't arrive until after 10pm and found nowhere to safely leave the kayak so another night was spent in the tent. It was the weekend before July 4th so fireworks were being let-off throughout the night - apparently they're still legal in North Dakota.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>The good ship "Jodie"</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJGB8QDAqNu8PquO4GIez6DG6kKoMYqhO_YSL4_hO2079zhAtS_jiMFuaHpji7xkY5mYEJQ8_r4sSbSNd0XOckRNm6vmbiWbOjM8mLigWRy5T3tpEqFQx0B9vJusHLe-aBMPzXIh8inVj/s1600/DSCN0378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCJGB8QDAqNu8PquO4GIez6DG6kKoMYqhO_YSL4_hO2079zhAtS_jiMFuaHpji7xkY5mYEJQ8_r4sSbSNd0XOckRNm6vmbiWbOjM8mLigWRy5T3tpEqFQx0B9vJusHLe-aBMPzXIh8inVj/s400/DSCN0378.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Heading to New Town ND</span></b></td></tr>
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I met Greg Johnson when I crossed over the lake to New Town Marina, he offered me a shady spot on his lawn to set up my tent for the night as there were no shoreline campsites at the Marina. Greg and his wife Cathy own a holiday home right on the water with a deck that overlooks the bay. Greg gave me a lift to town to shop and do my laundry. I returned to find the weather was good enough to get a few more miles in. I thanked them for their offer to stay and reluctantly said goodbye and headed off with a slight tail wind that pushed me about ten miles down the north shore. Greg gave me a hat and pocket hunting knife as a memento of my visit to New Town - much appreciated.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Doug with Cathy and Greg Johnson</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cattle cooling off in the shallows</span></b></td></tr>
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Another late lake crossing and a surprise meeting with a couple who stopped to see if I was OK. I was, just resting in calm water about a mile off shore on my way to round Beacon Point to find a sheltered camp site for the night. They offered, and I accepted, an ice cold beer that was a real treat after a hot 35 mile day. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBM1IJrIk4542kraR6aM4IWjVgScH2P5phcAhpTGex9Z9GuwVXs1B-DeaAbEJiFM31LRdIo3IMwcHkOOZaPAbl4a3cuc6_8vdKHjbwuqWvvaQ10oK_Xtbbdys1k_2At4ivm0KNtl4Wkhx/s1600/DSCN0385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBM1IJrIk4542kraR6aM4IWjVgScH2P5phcAhpTGex9Z9GuwVXs1B-DeaAbEJiFM31LRdIo3IMwcHkOOZaPAbl4a3cuc6_8vdKHjbwuqWvvaQ10oK_Xtbbdys1k_2At4ivm0KNtl4Wkhx/s400/DSCN0385.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Neva and PJ - lake angels</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Barbara May enjoying a well earned rest</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Early morning visitor</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One of countless sheltered bays on the lake</span></b></td></tr>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The setting sun on beautiful Lake Sakakawea .........</span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Indian Hills Campground - Lake Sakakawea</span></b></div>
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It's the 4th July and I'm spending a lazy day at Indian Hills, a very picturesque friendly campground on the north shore of the lake with nice clean facilities. Hoping for an early start tomorrow to cross the lake for the last time and get a portage around Garrison Dam and back in the fast flowing Missouri River.<br />
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Here's a family that can recognise a hungry kayaker a mile away. Corine and Bob invited me to stop and share there lunch, they are ex farmers who leased there property when times got tough and now support the oil industry supplying plant and equipment.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bob, Corine and family</span></b></td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-24234777749953581252012-07-04T11:34:00.001-07:002012-07-04T11:36:37.113-07:00Fort Peck Lake (Mile 1770) to Williston (Mile 1552)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
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I was introduced to Daryl at the Fort Peck Marina and he offered to give me a tour of the small town there and portage me around the dam. Daryl is a retired auto mechanic that has made a home for himself and visiting children and grandkids in a house he bought from the government when they were selling them cheap about 20 years ago.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Daryl portaged me around Fort Peck Dam</b></span></td></tr>
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We stopped in at a bar near the river to get an early morning coffee and I thought I'd found "Thelma and Louise" (aka Brenda and Faith), two gun carrying ladies that have leased a bar for the season hoping to make some money.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">'Thelma and Louise' aka Brenda and Faith</span></b></td></tr>
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They've named the bar 'One Shot" and I wasn't game to ask if that is all they've got to make some money or if that is what it would take to put you in your place if you stepped out of line. Brenda offered to cook me breakfast as Faith proceeded to educate me on the status of America and the world and who is responsible for the mess we're all in.</div>
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Brenda is originally from Sturgis South Dakota (annual Harley rally town) and Faith is from West Yellowstone Montana and has an interest in the local newspaper there. I detected that Brenda still holds a flame for an Aussie biker that rode in and out of town (and her life) about 25 years ago, she lost contact with him when her boss at the time questioned a $30 call to Australia on his phone bill.</div>
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These ladies are real characters and I'm sure they have enough personality, humour and BS to draw in the customers. They gave me some food (Boil-in-a-Bag chilli) and some insect spray to take with me and I left them worried that I wasn't carrying a six shot 'deterrent' to protect myself from the crazies down river.</div>
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I earned every mile I made over the next four days battling a headwind that never let up night and day.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Camped up for the day due to headwinds</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sheltering from the headwinds</span></b></td></tr>
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I caught up with TnT on the second day, they were camped on a windswept sandbar unable to make any headway. I decided to stay there overnight and and get an early start in the morning regardless of the weather. The boys were still in their tent when I left.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last view of TnT</span></b></td></tr>
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This is a rarely travelled remote stretch of river, about 224 miles where I saw no fishermen or boats or any body using the river at all other than three people from a religious community that farm 10,000 acres along the south bank. </div>
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At first I thought they were Amish due to the similar type of dress code and beard but the elder, Paul, told me that they were of German decent and were members of a Hutterite Community. Unlike the Amish they don't shun technology, in fact they were on the river bank to repair an irrigation pump and fix some erosion damage using a bobcat and backhoe.</div>
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Paul, wouldn't have his photo taken but he said the boys - Jayden and Josiah - could. The boys told me all about there life on the commune, what they study (they speak English, Higher German and Lower German ???), the chores that they're given and how, when the commune gets to a certain size, more land is purchased and a new commune is started. They were very interested in me and my journey and asked lots of questions but I'm convinced that they had absolutely no idea of where Australia was.</div>
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Jayden liked the name of the kayak as his mum's name is Barbara and coincidentally his dad is called Bob.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jayden and Josiah</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Early morning Coyote - looking for fish in the shallows</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Wild horses</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Big bend near Poplar Montana</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hoping for a rain free night - mosquito net camping only</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good flow, solitude, scenic and a tail wind - the planets lined up for me.</span></b></td></tr>
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Late afternoon, tired and hungry I was hailed ashore by this couple having a barbecue near the Highway 16 Bridge. A couple of beers, a burger and some 'blues' on the stereo I enjoyed an hour with Manny and Nicole, their daughter Kate and Nicole's two young sons.</div>
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Nicole teaches Spanish usually to high school kids but is about to start a new job at an elementary school in Sydney MT. Manny has done may things and the sort of guy that could turn his hand to anything that interested him. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Manny, Nicole and baby Kate - Highway 16 Bridge</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnlcjT8tt10jMD1J4snGj-Xy_tVuUZSUq1np9UL-Kx2YR7tJF22d0ohJ8wxFDdRV0q1vXi60-IoTefaADlqqXgWqsqYF2ArstodKBvAqi2O-YochxGL0PTz6Vaaak0RY11LYvC5TtO6SnJ/s1600/DSCN0339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnlcjT8tt10jMD1J4snGj-Xy_tVuUZSUq1np9UL-Kx2YR7tJF22d0ohJ8wxFDdRV0q1vXi60-IoTefaADlqqXgWqsqYF2ArstodKBvAqi2O-YochxGL0PTz6Vaaak0RY11LYvC5TtO6SnJ/s400/DSCN0339.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fat beaver</span></b></td></tr>
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They look like boats but these are floating irrigation pumps of which there are hundreds along the river.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfj8C85Z3apvRFZX8RCETgDh9w3sR10i3gRhupiyXg2NWFXqcDFUwU6tJs4dpfZ7JZAyC0sYLarTb1fc94eua_JyljRhiPk-fDQfXXHcY3pPlncs9pLhevItudvQ4udL7rZ3I5Pz5ccev/s1600/DSCN0342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfj8C85Z3apvRFZX8RCETgDh9w3sR10i3gRhupiyXg2NWFXqcDFUwU6tJs4dpfZ7JZAyC0sYLarTb1fc94eua_JyljRhiPk-fDQfXXHcY3pPlncs9pLhevItudvQ4udL7rZ3I5Pz5ccev/s400/DSCN0342.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Floating irrigation pumps</span></b></td></tr>
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This lift bridge dates back to a time when the railroad was being built and they still believed that river boats would continue to navigate this far.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyPAKOPwQTJh6KTjoyLvqMebMhW7yRcA01S3BPVol1zoAzdAMyZCQCBEszZz6Zq6Zxlp5sIHJB7MZWEOvCO1W2Mr0jCRx9TqyWJNcWJixdls8eJI-BBhwFKxqwzLtkQqxFMKgTfbFf6rw6/s1600/DSCN0349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyPAKOPwQTJh6KTjoyLvqMebMhW7yRcA01S3BPVol1zoAzdAMyZCQCBEszZz6Zq6Zxlp5sIHJB7MZWEOvCO1W2Mr0jCRx9TqyWJNcWJixdls8eJI-BBhwFKxqwzLtkQqxFMKgTfbFf6rw6/s400/DSCN0349.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Railroad Lift Bridge (Mile 1589)</span></b></td></tr>
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I last saw the Yellowstone River about 5 weeks and 700 miles back where it runs through Livinstone about 50 miles from where I started at Three Forks. The Yellowstone is the longest un-dammed river in the US.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SUM-Ju0ujkCX9eUIVh12tsPrQ4xPrNZ7G0Tpmn5PRq_Mqim93L0gMJpaVROnmB_zC5meBp-QGBiUmfqgxOCkA5eayEYKD2ZC_Mbr32QIQ7rzh0l_nuaCZjEb_ccQIuKHxDMSWB0Mel-d/s1600/DSCN0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SUM-Ju0ujkCX9eUIVh12tsPrQ4xPrNZ7G0Tpmn5PRq_Mqim93L0gMJpaVROnmB_zC5meBp-QGBiUmfqgxOCkA5eayEYKD2ZC_Mbr32QIQ7rzh0l_nuaCZjEb_ccQIuKHxDMSWB0Mel-d/s400/DSCN0354.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Looking directly at the confluence of the Yellowstone and Missouri Rivers</span></b></td></tr>
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This section of river has been hard work not just because of the headwinds but also because of the shallow water creating numerous sand and gravel banks making it easy to run aground, submerged dead trees that have the potential to damage the boat and the lack of places to get fresh water to drink (river water is suspect because of chemical run-off from farming) - I was pleased to cross the border into North Dakota and reach Williston. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPZ9-QGo90QPME_0AclWxXfWqUdcllG3BI0gxjC1Epbo64VZ41D6jLLVXCneUIXafCWAbASe893QVYrsp5XrhSGa1nJmm0X8HKfmrnJ1uvEy3kOG0q6KXPgO-5MfyfhVL9m5WcbJfm0mm/s1600/DSCN0355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPZ9-QGo90QPME_0AclWxXfWqUdcllG3BI0gxjC1Epbo64VZ41D6jLLVXCneUIXafCWAbASe893QVYrsp5XrhSGa1nJmm0X8HKfmrnJ1uvEy3kOG0q6KXPgO-5MfyfhVL9m5WcbJfm0mm/s400/DSCN0355.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Williston - Highway 85 Bridge</span></b></td></tr>
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The town of Williston is about six miles from the river so not an easy place re-supply. An oil boom has enticed people from all over the country to come here looking for work, and as is typical of boom times prices have risen dramatically forcing many to live rough until they can find a job. Rightly or wrongly I was advised not to leave my kayak unattended so I paddled on into Lake Sakakawea.</div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-68227962783481930762012-06-22T23:11:00.000-07:002012-07-04T11:42:07.165-07:00Great Falls (Mile 2122) to Fort Peck Lake Dam (Mile 1770)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I made it to the historic town of Fort Benton (~28 miles) in about 4 hours on fast flowing water and completely overshot my intended campground where I knew I could get a hot shower. I ended up going right through town to a boat ramp just of the main street. A few people came down to chat as they passed by and one guy in particular took pity on me and said he'd be back in an hour with his truck and transport me back through town to save me paddling upstream for a couple of miles. Herb was as good as his word and turned up with a big "Ford Transit" type van that got about 10 feet of my kayak in and all my gear. He gave me a tour of the town with the back door open and 6 feet of boat hanging out. Herb must have been in his mid 70's at least and as I paddled out of town a couple of days later with the Aussie flag flying I saw him stop his van and run to the waters edge to wave goodbye - you can't buy this stuff it just happens!</div>
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Fort Bentons history dates back to the mid 1800's when it developed as a trading post for beaver pelts and buffalo skins needed for the markets back east and in Europe. It was the end of navigation for steam ships that could make the voyage only during the spring melt when the river was more likely to be high - some years it wasn't. Parts of the original fort/trading post still stand and there is now a replica fort built on the exact same spot adjoining the original. The fort was used by the Canadian Mounties who would get supplies sent up the river then ride down from the border to collect them.</div>
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I had an invitation to visit the "curator", a registered Mountain Man who goes by the the name of "Burnt Spoon" (real name Bruce Druliner), he is a friend of Kristen and she phoned to let him know that I was paddling through.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Burnt Spoon and I</b></span></td></tr>
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Burnt Spoon is a Fort Benton historian, a raconteur and an authority on the events that shaped the town. He not only explains what happened there but why it happenned and the seemingly unrelated events of the American civil war and the fashion changes in Europe that caused the demise of the town when wool replaced pelts and hide. We spoke about many things both historic and current, the state of the US morally, ethically and economically. I really enjoyed my time there and if you're ever short of a dinner party guest you could do worse than fly this guy in. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>The Missouri River - Fort Benton, Montana</b></span></td></tr>
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A late start due to rain but it cleared up enough to get on the river around mid-morning. I had to take a three hour break when a headwind made progress impossible even though the river was flowing about 7 mph. I eventual made it to a very nice campground on a bend in the river near a place called Loma. I shared the place with two retired couples staying in RV's and enjoying the serenity.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Heading to Loma</b></span></td></tr>
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An early start to make up for yesterday and to try and beat the wind. I paddled 20 miles to Coalbanks Landing (the closest point on the Missouri River to Canada) before 10 am so had an early lunch.</div>
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The next section of river is known as the "Wild and Scenic Missouri". The river meanders through white cliffs with canyons and crevices which lead way back away from the river. There are the strangest rock formations here that from a distance look like man-made structures. Huge rock blocks stacked neatly on each other that form rock wall spines up and over the contours of hills much like the Great Wall of China. I made it to "Hole in the Wall" campground by 3:30 completing a 43 mile day.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Bill and Tom from Iowa</b></span></td></tr>
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I met Bill and Tom at the campground, they're from Iowa and have, for the last dozen years or so, spent two weeks away each year in their canoe usually on the Canadian/Minnesota border. They were great company and very hospitable cooking me a dinner of pork and beans and we shared a beer "Moose Drool" that I was able to to provide.</div>
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I woke in the night to the sound of scampering and chewing and got up to check that my food was not being eaten (I'd hung it from a hook under a shelter), it wasn't but I found in the morning one of my new $60 dry bags had a hole chewed right through it (it was empty and open) - what sort of critters are these?</div>
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Coffee in the morning with the guys and we said our goodbyes - they had another week to go before heading home to wives. Bill's happily retired and doing major renovations on a home that's been in the family for generations and Tom is still working as a Wood Finisher.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Leaving the Hole in the Wall</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>The "Hole in the Wall"</b></span></td></tr>
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It's amazing how close you can get to the wildlife when you drift close to shore with the current. The deer in the photos below seemed mesmerised by me getting closer and closer. I could almost touch them with my paddle as I went by.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A beautiful, remote hundred or so miles of the Missouri River.</span></b></td></tr>
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I made 60 miles today, 20 under sail in the middle of the day when a tail wind stayed with me for about 3 hours. I see a lot more while sailing, it's quieter and relaxing and I sometimes hang my feet over the side and stretch out a bit</div>
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I had lunch at Judith Landing and met two Environmental Officers from the Bureau of Land Management.<br />
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Found a great campsite on an island under some Cottonwood trees with a fire ring and fenced off from the cattle.<br />
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And then I entered Fort Peck Lake, 135 miles of dammed water that has a reputation for generating waves like the ocean - and it did one day forcing me to stay on shore in my tent until 4:30 pm while the wind howled and the waves lashed the muddy beaches. At the western end, the Missouri river looks like and has the consistency of hot chocolate, it's bought every loose particle along with it from hundreds of miles around and as the water slows the sediment drops out and islands of shifting mud are formed. You can see the water clearing as you get further into the lake - it's crystal clear at the eastern end on days when the water is calm. And the mud is like nothing I've seen before, it's not soluble, you can't wash it off it has to be scraped away. It's dangerous too, I found a great spot to camp but sunk up over my knees when I tried to get ashore, it was all I could to to get back in the boat.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The calm before the storm</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My kitchen</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A day on shore sheltering from a storm</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A 4:30 am check of the lake</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It looked calm and OK to cross 2 miles to the north shore</span></b></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was, and remained calm - 15 miles by 9 am, 30 miles by 3 pm</span></b></td></tr>
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I arrived at Fort Peck Marina to be greeted by two young guys who were expecting me, they'd been told a couple of days before that an "Australian" named Bob is paddling the lake in a kayak and is currently 90 miles away at the other end of the lake. I've no idea how anyone knew that as I hadn't seen or spoken to anyone for about 5 days.</div>
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Tyler and Tom are an explosive pair that are known as Tn'T. They told me they quit their crummy jobs a couple of weeks ago (Tyler was cleaning toilets) and scraped up enough money to buy an ex rental aluminium canoe for $300 which they've been paddling since Great Falls about 300 miles upstream. They managed to paddle the length of the lake with a couple of white knuckle moments when they got caught in high waves making a crossing to the north shore. They're aiming to get to the Gulf of Mexico about 3,000 miles downstream but only have $200 between them. They'd been camped at the Marina for two nights waiting for Tom's mum to arrive to portage them around the dam and to buy them dinner. I took them to the bar and shouted them some beers while they waited; a fishermen came in and bought the three of us beer impressed we were all paddling the length of the river.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tn'T - Tyler and Tom</span></b></td></tr>
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Mum arrived and put took them around the dam, I expect to see them in a few days around the North Dakota Border.</div>
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There is also another kayaker heading for the Gulf a day ahead of me that I haven't met yet. He is from Seattle and has paddled to here from the Pacific Ocean up the Columbia and Snake rivers and down the Missouri. </div>
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Another couple of guys are 2 days behind paddling a canoe to the Gulf raising money and awareness for breast cancer. </div>
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I heard today too that Mark Kalch, an Australian from the Sunshine Coast, is putting in at Three Forks in a day or two and heading for the Gulf. </div>
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Dom, a French Canadian is also paddling to the Gulf from Canada and has just crossed the border into the US, he will be joining the Missouri River via the Milk River - the confluence is within ten miles of here.</div>
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It's starting to get crowded!</div>
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This Fort Peck Lake has been a challenge and a good learning experience for me; there are two longer lakes/dams to come the first Sakakawea is only a week/10 days away.</div>
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I've rented a RV (caravan) for a couple of nights here at the Marina to rest up, clean the boat, do some laundry and check my emails (thanks to all that have written - I think I've got the "Comments" thing on the blog fixed). </div>
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The owner of the place Tara, is a wonderful host who welcomes paddlers. She has been running the place with hired help since her husband died seven years ago and is now looking to sell up and head back home to the Black Hills in South Dakota to be nearer her grandchildren. She asks all paddlers to send her a postcard when they finish their journey so that she knows they're safe. She's adds them to her scrapbook collection she 's kept for 20 years.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-12806085998864289652012-06-12T07:37:00.000-07:002012-06-12T19:07:45.517-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>Miles shown are the distance from St Louis (</b>i.e.<b> </b>Mile 0) <b>taken from David Millers book - <i>The Complete Paddler</i></b></span><br />
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<b>Day 1</b><br />
<b>Three Forks</b> (Mile 2321) to <b>Toston Dam</b> (Mile 2300)<br />
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A late 3:30 pm start from the confluence of the Madison and Jefferson Rivers. A beautiful day to start this journey, warm and sunny with snow on the mountains in the distance.<br />
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Surprisingly all my gear fitted in the boat with room to spare. I secured the Aussie Flag in a housing I'd glued on the stern (blunt end for non-boaters) and had the obligatory photos taken by Pat our "river angel" and by some tourists from Kansas who happened to be there reading the Lewis and Clarke information boards.<br />
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A quick hug from Pat and I pushed off into the fast flowing water as the two rivers merged with each other (Lloyd had already gone - no kiss goodbye or hug for his wife; I'm sure he'll pay for that little oversight later!) About a mile downstream the Gallitin River flows in from the right and the river speeds up even more.<br />
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What a great first day it was with fast flowing water nearly all the way. Lots of wildlife along the banks - geese, ducks, bald eagles, antelope, deer and beaver. We made it to our first camp site at Toston Dam in 3 hours covering 20 river miles.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Campsite at Toston Dam</span></td></tr>
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The kayak handled really well and exceeded all my expectations; I'll write more about that later.<br />
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<b>Day 2</b></div>
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<b>Toston Dam</b> (Mile 2300) to <b>Cottonwood Campground</b> (Mile 2277)</div>
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Pat came in the morning and portaged us about 300 metres around the dam.</div>
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Another great start to the day in fast water with a few rocks to navigate around. We missed a good recommended lunch stop on York Island as it came up so quick we couldn't pull the kayaks in from the current so we floated on until we came to a sandbank in slack water further downstream.</div>
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We decided to camp at Cottonwood Campground near the entrance to Canyon Ferry Lake. A headwind had come up and a storm was approaching and it started to rain as we hauled the boats out.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cottonwood Campground</span></div>
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It turned out to be typical of a night that puts people of camping. We struggled to put the tents up in the wind and rain and I spent the first half hour mopping out an inch of water from the tent floor before I could get my sleeping bag an air mattress set up. I had to put extra lines out to stop the tent blowing away in the storm. We were woken at midnight once the rain had stopped by three car loads of local kids out to party; they built a huge fire between our tents and the kayaks and we were serenaded until 3am by AC/DC and Eminem blasting out from huge speakers on the back of their pick-up trucks. They seemed to have a good time and turned out to be harmless.</div>
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NOTE TO SELF: Friday and Saturday nights only camp where there is no road access.<br />
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<b>Day 3</b></div>
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<b>Cottonwood Campground</b> (Mile 2277) to <b>Canyon Ferry Dam</b> (Mile 2253) </div>
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The storm last night caused some damage to the awning on Lloyds trailer home so we paddled to the closest point (about 5 miles) where Pat met us with hot coffee. Lloyd stayed to sort out the problem and I paddled up the lake to the take-out point above the dam. A beautiful sunny day with fantastic scenery of bays and coves along the shore and crystal clear water. I was exhausted when they picked me up at the dam having covered 24 miles with no current. Pat suggested a day off - it took me half a second to agree.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Heading in to Canyon Ferry Lake</span></td></tr>
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<b>Day 4</b></div>
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A day off at the trailer park- laundry and lazing about. I bought a new hat with a wider brim and pint of Ben & Jerrys ice cream.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rented cabin near Canyon Ferry Lake</span></td></tr>
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<b>Day 5</b></div>
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<b>Canyon Ferry Dam</b> (Mile 2253) to <b>Hauser Dam</b> (Mile 2237)</div>
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A fast water start today then strong headwinds to get to our destination at Hauser Dam. Another night of setting up in the rain. I staked the tent well and secured it to nearby trees and a fence.<br />
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<b>Day 6</b></div>
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<b>Hauser Dam</b> (Mile 2237) to <b>Oxbow Bend</b> (Mile 2218)</div>
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A fantastic days paddling through the most scenic stretch of river so far. We paddled a headwind for an hour or two with no river flow to assist. At the end of Upper Holter Lake we turned in to what appeared to be a cliff face with no indication of where the river went. As we got closer a narrow passage appeared in the cliff and we entered what is known as the "Gates of the Mountains" where the river flows between enourmous limestone cliffs rising up 1200 feet on either side. Nearly 6 miles of rocky canyon covered in pine trees and honeycombed with caves.</div>
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We had the wind behind us and set our sails and had no need to paddle. We stopped for a lazy lunch half way through and admired the scenery. I was in two minds about buying a sail for the trip having got mixed advice from previous Missouri River paddlers - most saying that there would be limited use for it; Lloyd had a home made sail that fitted in his rod holders. No regrets for me, take a look .......<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/H42EuYGLPcc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<b>Sailing the Gates of the Mountains</b> (let it fully load and watch full screen)</div>
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We hoped to get to the next dam (Holter) but headwinds forced us to camp about 5 miles short on a sharp bend in the river. It turned out to be a good decision, the wind dropped and the campsite was the best we found, flat ground, under shade with a stone fire ring and lots of fire wood that previous campers had left.</div>
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<b>Day 7</b><br />
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<b>Oxbow Bend</b> (Mile 2218) to <b>Mid Canyon</b> (Mile 2196)</div>
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Woke up to a sunny day and paddled in to a slight headwind to get around the sharp bend that posed a problem the night before. We turned a bend and immediately got a tail wind that pushed us for 5 miles to the dam - never got the paddles wet - amazing. </div>
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The owner of the local marina phoned the dam maintenance crew and arrange for them to portage us around the dam.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Heading to Holter Dam</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Waiting for the dam crew</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lloyd (centre) and the dam crew.</span></td></tr>
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More fast flowing water and it was all we could do to manoeuvre the kayaks into slack water at a bend known as Mid Canyon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lloyd at at Mid Canyon camp site </span></td></tr>
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<b>Day 8</b></div>
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<b>Mid Canyon</b> (Mile 2196) to before<b> Ulm</b> (Mile 2153)<br />
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Another warm sunny day with some rough water in places. Check it out .......</div>
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Rough Water near Craig, Montana</div>
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Not many places to camp and ended up on an island a couple of miles short of a one shop and Post Office town called Ulm. Got set up just before it rained and were frequently woken up through the night by fish splashing about in the shallows.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Island camp site near Ulm, MT</span></td></tr>
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<b>Day 9</b></div>
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Before<b> Ulm</b> (Mile 2153) to <b>Great Falls</b> (Mile 2122)</div>
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We paddled the 2 miles to Ulm and Lloyd decided to stop and fish until Pat picked him up and ferried him to Great Falls. I paddled the 31 miles and surprised myself in getting there in 6 hours. Pat suggested a day off sight seeing - I agreed.</div>
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<b>Day 10</b></div>
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Day off in Great Falls sightseeing.</div>
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Great Falls was the first major hurdle for the Lewis and Clark expedition back in 1805. The indians had told them off a great waterfall ahead and they had expected a 1 waterfall 1 day uphill portage. It turned out to be 5 waterfalls and an 18 mile overland haul.</div>
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<b>Day 11</b></div>
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<b>Great Falls</b> (Mile 2122) to <b>Fort Benton</b> (Mile 2074)</div>
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Lloyd and Pat portaged me around the falls to a very lonely remote site on the river called Widow Coulee - a safe put in location below the rapids.</div>
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Another night of making camp in the rain. Lloyd helped me put up the tent while Pat stayed in the truck and wondered what possess men to do stupid things. We said our goodbyes (they were heading to Idaho to visit family there). I hope to visit them in Graeagle, California before returning to Australia.</div>
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Lloyd is great guy to travel with, he finds joy in everything whether it's paddling the boat, setting up camp or planning the next days adventure. He's the first to get a camp fire going in the evening and he's got the coffee ready in the morning before you get up - it was good week with him and Pat, hard work but lots of humour - I'll miss them both.</div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5789537391392167042.post-48824371521054192292012-05-31T06:38:00.000-07:002012-06-12T10:32:55.268-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
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So here's the plan ...........</div>
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Launch the kayak on the 1st June at headwaters near Three Forks Montana and head down river to St Louis MIssouri. It's about 2,351 miles of winding river, dams and lakes through the states of Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Iowa, Kansas and Missouri where the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers meet.</div>
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I've been in Bozeman Montana for the last ten days organising all my gear, clothing, equipment and food for this Missouri River expedition; my kayak arrived from Washington over a week ago. Today I meet up with my friend Lloyd Buckner and his wife Pat who have travelled over from Northern California in their fifth wheeler trailer. Lloyd is going to accompany me for the first 200 miles on the river and Pat is going to be our road crew. I first met Lloyd and his daughter Marci while walking the Pacific Crest Trail in 2010, we walked with Lloyd on and off for over 400 miles and around 700 miles with Marci.</div>
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I spent some time at the headwaters while waiting for Lloyd to arrive checking out the "put in" point and watching the fast waters merge as the three rivers came together. I wondered how this river was going to treat me over the next few months, how would the boat handle the conditions, was I prepared with the right gear, equipment to make this journey or have I taken on more than I can handle. The usual questions one has when embarking on something new like this I suspect. Although it's a physical challenge to paddle over 2,000 miles I'm advised by those that have made the journey themselves that it becomes more of a mental challenge to keep focussed and motivated; much the same as walking the Pacific Crest Trail was.<br />
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No second thoughts though, I can't wait to get started and believe that my concerns and hesitations are what will keep me safe; as my friend Rennae says "it's all about making good decisions".<br />
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I will be carrying a SPOT personal location device that allows me to check in each night advising that I'm safe and well. You can see my last daily check-in location by clicking on the "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Current Location</span>" link in the right hand column of this page. If you zoom in on a location marker and and click "Satellite" you will be able to see exactly where I called in. The SPOT device also has an EMERGENCY button I can press if I need immediate assistance.<br />
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</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13731-5525 Trident Rd, Three Forks, Mt 59752, USA45.928707109669212 -111.505737304687545.906617109669213 -111.54521930468751 45.95079710966921 -111.46625530468749