June 17 Two calm days in a row! Unprecedented in the Dakotas. If I
could get rid of this pain in my shoulder, I could really celebrate -
even bypass Mobridge and continue on to Bismarck. I did stop in
at a clinic here in Mobridge, and they gave me some anti-
inflammatory drugs stronger than the ibuprofen I’ve been taking.
If they work, I’m back in business again.
June 18 Iput in a long day, 10 hours of paddling, in order to take
advantage of a light tailwind. It was one of those rare calm days,
and I wanted to go as far as I could. With the light breeze (and
the help of some anti-inflammatory drugs I picked up from the
Mobridge clinic) I mad 36 miles, and I’m camped right on the
South Dakota-North Dakota border. Just outside of Mobridge the
railroad bridge has a long jetty which significantly narrows the
lake. I crossed over to the left/west side, thinking I could still
take advantage of the SE winds predicted for tomorrow and be
more protected from the NW winds which inevitably follow. As I
was crossing, a boater whom I’d met at breakfast advised me to
stay on the right/east side, but I was already committed. He may
have known what he was talking about, because campsites on this
side are hard to come by. All the protected inlets are mud flats,
like the one I’m on tonight, and offer little shelter from the wind,
which threatens to pull up my poorly anchored tent stakes.
There’ll be no rain tonight, so I’ve left the outer cover off the tent,
giving it less resistance to the wind.
June 19 Well, it looks like I should have stayed on the other shoreline.
Winds were from the ESE today, and stronger, which meant I had
big waves breaking over the back of the kayak from an angle. In
one particularly exposed area this morning I got knocked over. I
was near shore, in only about 3 feet of water, but I had trouble
pulling my release strap and the waves kept pushing me under. I
managed to get free, but it was too close a call. I think the only
thing that saved me was that at the critical moment I was able to
fight off the panic enough to do what I had to do to get out. It
took me a while on the beach to collect myself, I was so shaken.
After an hour or so, the wind died down a bit, and I ventured out
again, but I was scared to death. After I got around that one cape,
I was slightly more protected from the waves, and I pushed on,
fearfully, past Ft. Yates and up to near the Cannonball River.
June 20 As expected, strong NW winds today, in the 40 mph range. I
broke camp and set out at 5:30, without breakfast, knowing I
wouldn’t get far, but wanting to make some progress before I had
to pull in. I got as far as Ft. Rice, about 8 miles. I might have
gone a little further, but it looked like a lot of sandbars and tree
stumps ahead, so I figured I’d be better attacking that section
under calmer conditions. I guess my choice of shorelines worked
out. On the other side I wouldn’t have been able to get out at all.
Since my dunking yesterday, I find myself much more fearful on
this lake. For the first time, the thought has entered my head that
I could die out here. This is something that never occurred to me
before. I imagined the possibilities of injuries, discouragement,
isolation, emergency hikes to civilization, but I never imagined a
situation that would be truly life-threatening. Now that the
thought has entered my mind, I’m having a hard time shaking it.
June 21 More 40+ mph winds today, and traveler's advisories for high
profile road vehicles. I set out at 5:30 again, like yesterday, and
got past the tricky section above Ft. Rice. I pulled in below Huff,
where the river is more like a river again, and I’m waiting out the
wind. I’ve reviewed my journal notes, and these are my
observations. First, it’s obvious that I’m beginning to struggle
with this journey. It’s taking its toll, physically and
psychologically. Second, these lakes are no fun at all. Except for
days like today, I can always make better mileage on them than on
the lower river section. But they are so tedious and boring, the
same endless expanse of water, the same treeless hillsides, the
same grinding wind. They don’t even hold historical interest - all
the Missouri River history, including the Lewis and Clark sites,
have been drowned by these dams. Plus, as I learned the other
day, the lakes can be lethal. And I still have the two largest to go.
It’s amazing how the hand of man has affected the river. Below
the dams, channeling and dikes have made the river completely
predictable. Above them, the river has been obliterated. At least
below the dams, I had the excitement of what might lie around the
next bend. The high points of my travels on the lakes have been
the wonderful people I’ve met during my stops in Chamberlain,
Pierre, and Mobridge. Third, in the course of struggling so much
with the river and my need to reach the Continental Divide, I’ve
lost sight of Lewis and Clark and their expedition. Of course,
that’s easy to do on the lakes, where all evidence of their journey
lies under 50 feet of water. I wish I had more time to complete
my journey - a year and a half instead of 7 months - so I could
relax more and take what the river and weather give me.
June 22 Calmer winds today, and the Missouri has become a river again,
with defined banks, bends and current. I could feel the history as
I slipped by the Native American sites and Ft. Lincoln. And I
could paddle comfortably again, without fear of death. Coming
into Bismarck was the most pleasant part of the river I’ve seen in
a long time. Four lakes down, two to go.
Click here for days 77-86 of Richard's journal
