The sky was grey and overcast in the morning, with rain and fog, and that's pretty much how it stayed the whole day. It was not an ideal day for kayaking. Of the 12 hours I spent on the water, it rained for more than eight.I passed by Savannah, IL. It's located south of the Savannah military area, and from the river looks like a fairly nondescript town. Further downstream, on the Iowa side, is an interesting looking small town called Sabula. It is firmly stuck in the 60s. Everything from the houses, main street buildings, the vehicles and even the people seem to have missed the last 40 years. I half expected to see a few Good Ole' Boys leaning on their pickup trucks in Main Street and complain about 'those dang hippies on the old Smith farm'. Talk about a time warp.
The pub on the riverfront is a little frayed around the edges, but it sure looked inviting from where I was sitting. All along the riverbank, more than a hundred flags fly from 20 foot flag poles, with a small white cross planted at the foot of each pole. It made me sad.
To get to Lock and Dam # 13 I had to cross Pond 13. 'Pond' is Corps of Engineers speak for the group of lakes found above each dam. The numbering system follows Lock and Dam numbers: Pond 7 is above Dam # 7, etc. Pond 13 is the widest of the ponds - it's over three and a half miles at the widest point.
It was not a good day for lake crossings. I got caught in heavy rain and a 25 mph southwest wind 11 miles above the dam. I couldn't see a thing. For a while I literally navigated by the wind in my face. I knew the wind was coming from the southwest, and the lock was south of me, so if I kept going into the wind I would at some point hit the dam, and I could then follow the dam to the lock. It wasn't a bad plan, except I got stuck on a sandbar. I can usually spot sandbars from a distance by the grass and other plants sticking out above the surface, or birds that appear to be walking on water. Not this time, though.
I managed to get the boat off the sandbar by pushing down with both hands onto the sand and 'walking' the kayak backwards to deeper water. I couldn't go forward, so I turned the kayak around and retraced my route. The rain eased a bit, and I was able to spot a green buoy in the channel. I had no choice but to stay close to the channel with the the buoys in sight from that point on. And that's how I ended up crossing the widest lake on the Upper Mississippi: right down the middle in a 25 mph wind and four foot waves.
By the time I reached the lock it was almost 7pm and dark storm clouds were building up over the area. There was a tow boat a few miles behind me, and I didn't think for one second they'd lock it down before me. But the lock attendant on duty turned out to be a real asshole, and he made me wait for two and a half hours while they locked the 15 barge tow downstream. It would have taken all of 15 minutes to get me through the lock. It was dark, the wind was freezing and I was wet, cold and very tired. And a fierce-looking thunderstorm was approaching fast from the west. All in all not a comfortable situation to be in. Later one of the lock staff, I think he was a security officer, came out to check on me and keep me company for a while. It was dark by then, and the storm was still looming. I think they were getting worried about me and realized that they had screwed up by not locking me down before the tow boat. He went to check the radar and fortunately the storm was passing to the north. It was 9:30pm by the time I had cleared the lock. There are dredge islands with sandbars below most locks, and Lock # 13 was no exception, so at least I didn't have to paddle around frantically in the dark to find a place to camp. It was past midnight by the time I got to bed and I was freezing. There was no dry wood to be found, so no fire to warm up a bit.
The one redeeming factor about the day is that there were no power boats on the water on account of the bad weather, although I was a tad uncomfortable at times being the only small craft out on the river.
The pub on the riverfront is a little frayed around the edges, but it sure looked inviting from where I was sitting. All along the riverbank, more than a hundred flags fly from 20 foot flag poles, with a small white cross planted at the foot of each pole. It made me sad.
To get to Lock and Dam # 13 I had to cross Pond 13. 'Pond' is Corps of Engineers speak for the group of lakes found above each dam. The numbering system follows Lock and Dam numbers: Pond 7 is above Dam # 7, etc. Pond 13 is the widest of the ponds - it's over three and a half miles at the widest point.
It was not a good day for lake crossings. I got caught in heavy rain and a 25 mph southwest wind 11 miles above the dam. I couldn't see a thing. For a while I literally navigated by the wind in my face. I knew the wind was coming from the southwest, and the lock was south of me, so if I kept going into the wind I would at some point hit the dam, and I could then follow the dam to the lock. It wasn't a bad plan, except I got stuck on a sandbar. I can usually spot sandbars from a distance by the grass and other plants sticking out above the surface, or birds that appear to be walking on water. Not this time, though.
I managed to get the boat off the sandbar by pushing down with both hands onto the sand and 'walking' the kayak backwards to deeper water. I couldn't go forward, so I turned the kayak around and retraced my route. The rain eased a bit, and I was able to spot a green buoy in the channel. I had no choice but to stay close to the channel with the the buoys in sight from that point on. And that's how I ended up crossing the widest lake on the Upper Mississippi: right down the middle in a 25 mph wind and four foot waves.
By the time I reached the lock it was almost 7pm and dark storm clouds were building up over the area. There was a tow boat a few miles behind me, and I didn't think for one second they'd lock it down before me. But the lock attendant on duty turned out to be a real asshole, and he made me wait for two and a half hours while they locked the 15 barge tow downstream. It would have taken all of 15 minutes to get me through the lock. It was dark, the wind was freezing and I was wet, cold and very tired. And a fierce-looking thunderstorm was approaching fast from the west. All in all not a comfortable situation to be in. Later one of the lock staff, I think he was a security officer, came out to check on me and keep me company for a while. It was dark by then, and the storm was still looming. I think they were getting worried about me and realized that they had screwed up by not locking me down before the tow boat. He went to check the radar and fortunately the storm was passing to the north. It was 9:30pm by the time I had cleared the lock. There are dredge islands with sandbars below most locks, and Lock # 13 was no exception, so at least I didn't have to paddle around frantically in the dark to find a place to camp. It was past midnight by the time I got to bed and I was freezing. There was no dry wood to be found, so no fire to warm up a bit.
The one redeeming factor about the day is that there were no power boats on the water on account of the bad weather, although I was a tad uncomfortable at times being the only small craft out on the river.
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