Day 6, May 18 - Lock 5 to mile 711, 28 miles

I battled 10-15 mph SE winds all day. The wind seemed to come straight up the river no matter which way it turned. The gusts exceeded 20 mph at times. Interestingly enough, the southerly winds don't generate the same size waves as the northerly winds. It's counter intuitive for me; in the ocean, opposing wind and current create the biggest waves - the faster the current and the stronger the wind it meets head on, the bigger the waves. Not so on the river.

I stopped at a KONA campsite at mile 718 to fill up my water bottles and to charge my cell phone battery. I am becoming a real scrounger and tramp. But I have to use every chance I get to resupply and get what I need. There's no way of knowing when the next opportunity will come around.

People were real friendly at the campground. It was Friday afternoon, and the weekend RV and boat crowd (all regulars) were drifting in. There was a lot of interest in my journey, my kayak and equipment. One guy pointed out the showers, saying that the camp managers wouldn't mind if I used them. I'm sure he was just trying to helpful, but he probably also felt that I needed a shower quite badly.

I've not written anything about the sounds on the river. The sound (noise) that dominates all others on the river is that of trains. There are railway lines on both banks of the river, and trains run all day and all night, sometimes several in the space of an hour. The roaring and clattering of 2 mile long trains hurtling down the tracks, the deep throbbing of the diesel-electric engines that push and pull these modern caravans of commerce along at break-neck speed, and the eardrum-shattering sound of their whistles as they approach towns and railroad crossings, fill the river valley and obliterate all other sounds.

The barges are surprisingly quiet, and unless they pass within 200 yards or so, you don't hear much of anything. Bass boats and other power boats make a lot more noise than the barges. The tow boats that push the barges along sound like submarines - run silent, run deep.

Whenever a highway runs near the river, Harley Davidsons and muffler-challenged V8 pickup trucks dominate the sound stage.

There is a lot of wilderness along the river, most notably on the Minnesota side. However, one is constantly reminded that workaday, industrial America is never far away. Beyond the green and seemingly endless wilderness along the riverbanks, the sounds of the 21st century spill over into the river valley. The monotonous drone of highway traffic drifts towards the river, every so often the growling and whining of earth moving and construction equipment will break free from behind a narrow row of trees left for 'cosmetic' reasons, and the hum of power stations and factories along the river adds to the surreal symphony of the river.

Nature gets its chance too. Whenever the noise of the modern world quiets down, the air is filled with bird calls: the hoarse vek-vek-vek of the heron, the sad but beautiful song of the mourning dove, the occasional whistle of an eagle or hawk, the explosion of geese and ducks taking off in flight, and the harmony of dozens of different kinds of small birds pitching in to create nature's music.

I passed through Winona, a very industrial looking city, as seen from the river. I smelled plastic resin as I came up to RPT Industries - I assume they are a plastics company. On the other hand, if there were no plastics companies, I wouldn't be paddling down the Mississippi in an indestructable plastic boat with my carbon fiber paddle and hi-tech equipment. If I took plastic out of the equation, I'd be swimming the length of the river, naked.

There was black smoke coming from the chimney at the Peerless Chain Company (how do they spot the weakest link?), and there was a hint if coal smoke in the air. A little further downstream, water was flowing into the river from a run-off pipe, and it smelled faintly of chlorine. My guess would be that it is the outflow for the city's sewage treatment plant. Still, just a short distance below the city, all kinds of birds, including bald eagles, were happily going about their business.

Signs aren't always straightforward in these parts; some are downright confusing. I had a National Wildlife Refuge to my right for most of the way below Winona. There were two different signs posted along the shore. One read 'Closed'; the other 'No Entry/Avoid Entry/No Unauthorized Entry'. To me, that meant 'stay out', and 'don't camp here', so I kept going, even though there were a few great spots for camping. Later, when I read the map booklet from the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, I found a totally different explanation for these signs. 'Closed' means closed to duck and geese hunting for parts of the year. The more severe 'No Entry/Avoid Entry, etc.' sign means: 'You may enter'. Go figure. Anyway, now I set up camp anywhere that's not clearly posted with 'no trespassing/no camping'. I can always play the 'I'm kayaking to New Orleans' card if anybody complains.

I have not made a single cup of coffee in the time I've been on the river. It's simply too much of a hassle to get the stove out, find a spot out of the wind to get it going, and to go through the ritual of making coffee. I also need to watch my water supply closely, and coffee also causes more bathroom stops. Instead, I've been taking my Prolab Nitro Fire supplement. It's a blend of amino acids designed to boost physical and mental energy, and it's also loaded with caffeine. That perks me right up, no matter how groggy and sluggish I feel in the morning. And it provides me with a steady level of physical and mental energy for several hours. Turns out I don't need coffee after all, although my wife still maintains that coffee is one of the main food groups.

Speaking of Christine, she really should have been here. Not only because I miss her very much, but because she is a much more practical, and handy person than I am. One example, she insisted that I pack some heavy duty rubber bands. I could see no use for them, but took them to humour her. Would you believe it, I've been using them all the time, for everything from keeping food containers closed, to keeping my glasses on my head, to fixing the deployment cord on the kayak's rudder. Thank you Christine!

I'm still starting too late in the mornings. Before you start referring to me as the Lazy Kayaker, an explanation: It's been freezing cold every night so far, with temperatures dipping into the low 30s. Most mornings, I only warm up after the sun has been out for a while, and it's good to catch some sleep when I'm not trying to keep warm. Still, it would be better if I could be on the water earlier; the wind is normally not too bad early in the day, and I can start looking for campsites earlier.