Day 2 - 31 miles in 8 hours

I met my first fellow traveller on the Mississippi today. Blissfully unaware of each other's existence, we shared the same postage stamp of an island last night. River kayakers tend to be tired and quiet at night.

Imagine my surprise then, when out of thin air, a much suntanned and slightly bewildered young man appeared on my one-man island. He introduced himself as 'Xander, and asked me if I knew the distance to West St. Paul. When I took out my map to check the exact distance, I realized that he may not be fully prepared to be on the river.

"I need one of those," he said, pointing to my map. It turned out that he was making his way to New Orleans in a small Extreme plastic kayak with an open cockpit. He needed to get back upstream to St. Paul because his dad had to go in for surgery. 'Xander had set out from St. Paul on Saturday, May 11th, and managed to make about 22 miles the first day. The second day he spent 8 hours paddling around in circles on 'some lake', completely lost. I figured he must have been on Spring Lake, from the general area he was in. I got the distinct feeling that he wasn't overly disappointed when he got the call about his dad. We chatted for a while, and when he left I couldn't resist asking him how long he reckoned it would take him to get to New Orleans.
"Oh, I figured about a week and a half, if I paddled 15 hours a day."

I wish him well, but I don't think he'll be taking off on the Mississippi again any time soon.

I have too much gear and supplies. My kayak is way too heavy, and it feels unbalanced. I took a photo of all my kit at my first camp site. It looks like I offloaded a houseboat. Nothing much I can do about it now. I can't burn everything, and I'm not in the habit of dumping stuff at camp sites; I'll just have to wait until I get to the first town where I can ship some of my unwanted stuff home.

We'll, I wanted a challenge and an adventure. Today got of to a very rough start. I crossed the first substantial lake of my journey today - Spring Lake. And it was whipped into a witch's brew by a 20 mph East wind. The wind was blowing the same direction as the current, and the way I was going, which made for a kind of fast and furious paddling that has too much in common with surfing for my taste. These joint forces were pushing me along so fast that my kayak started pitching and rolling in the waves. When I checked my GPS later today, it showed a top speed of 9.4 mph - much too fast for an overloaded, top-heavy, badly balanced ocean kayak. I turned the boat 45 degrees into the waves to slow it down a bit, but this required a fine balancing act; turning into the waves too much in a 3 foot swell and a 20 mph wind can cause the kayak to capsize if you get broadsided by a rogue wave. And to top it all, halfway across the lake my rudder deployment cord snapped at one of the joints, and the two lines went flying towards the back of the kayak. With more luck than skill, I managed to grab hold of the important piece that lowers the rudder, so I was able to keep the rudder where I needed it - in the water.

I got a lot of respect for the Kodiak's stability, heavily loaded and badly balanced as it was. I'm also a tiny bit pleased with my skill in handling the kayak on that lake today. If I was less experienced, or inclined to panic, it could have ended badly for me.

A few miles below Spring Lake I passed through the first of 29 locks between here and St. Louis. My first lock was Lock & Dam no. 2, at river mile 815 (I started below Lock no. 1 on Sunday). Going through a lock with a 17 foot muscle powered kayak is not without challenge, as you'll see shortly, but it sure beats the alternative - portaging 160 lbs worth of boat and gear around a dam. This could take three hours or longer at some locks.

Lock no. 2 is at the right side of the dam, so I paddled closer after making sure there were no barges in the lock or vicinity. The procedure for approaching a lock, according the instructions that came with my navigational charts, is as follows: "If no traffic signal light is on, approach the lock and signal for lockage. If the red signal light is flashing, stand clear and do not approach. You can signal for service by pulling the signal cord located at mid-point on the upper and lower guide walls."

I paddled up to the lock when I saw no red light, confident that this won't be any more difficult than riding an elevator. Not quite. Figuring out which wall was the guide wall, posed the first obstacle, and I could see no sign indicating a signal cord, nor could I see the actual cord anywhere. Finding no clue of where to go next, I drifted around for a while, hoping that someone in the control tower would spot me and clear me in. But the lights stayed dim and the tower looked deserted. Then I decided to go into the area behind the big red sign that says "No boats beyond this point. Restricted area." That got their attention. Next thing the yellow signal light was flashing and the lock gate started to open.

The lock master was not pleased with me. I pleaded ignorance and inexperience, being a lock virgin and all that, and eventually he softened up a bit. He showed me where to locate the signal cord (hidden behind a yellow ladder, and in this case, tied 2 feet too high to reach from a kayak or any small boat). He also told me that I can call ahead on channel 14 on my marine VHF, and he even offered to test my VHF. But his parting words ruled out any possibility of a lasting friendship:" You going to New Orleans in that thing? I'll be surprised if you make it." I'm going to send him a postcard from New Orleans.

Below the lock I passed through Hastings, not a particularly memorable place. Two miles downstream is Prescott (I wonder if they pronounce it Prescutt, like the one in Arizona?), where the St. Croix river enters the Mississippi.

The rest of the day I paddled alongside a vast State Wildlife Management Area. I am amazed at how much wilderness there is in Minnesota. The scenery along most of my route today is really beautiful. I took a lot of photos on the calmer stretches of water, when I could take my camera out without risk of losing it in the river. I saw a woodchuck today, on the right bank, not more than 20 feet away. I also saw a good variety of birds: at least a dozen bald eagles, 3 redtail hawks, common (white) egrets, and many herons and turkey vultures. Sand pipers and other shore birds are all over the place.

I passed through Lock no. 3 without incident very late in the day, almost at last light. The lock master pointed out an island 400 yards downstream, towards the left bank, and that's where I set up camp for the night.

I also had my only real moment of panic for the trip so far. When I stepped out of the kayak, I was swarmed by hundreds of mosquitoes. I must have landed right on top of a breeding area. Within seconds I had a dozen bites on my legs, arms and face. And I couldn't find my DEET. I had no clue where I had packed it. Even after I had unpacked all the dry bags, I still couldn't find it. I found the all-natural, all-organic stuff that smells like flowers and has absolutely no effect on mosquitoes. I emptied half a bottle, mainly by aiming it directly at the mosquitoes and trying to drown them with the stuff, but the mozzies kept on coming. In the end I gave up looking for the DEET, made a smoking fire with some driftwood, green branches and a lot of Coleman stove fuel, and parked myself downwind in a cloud of smoke. I stayed put until the mosquito activity had died down for the evening. Not all of them went away though, and throughout the night they were doing the kamakazi thing on my head. I didn't sleep well.