{"id":1344,"date":"2012-12-03T11:35:17","date_gmt":"2012-12-03T11:35:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/phpaddlers.com\/?p=1344"},"modified":"2012-12-03T11:37:51","modified_gmt":"2012-12-03T11:37:51","slug":"2012-missouri-mississippi-river-source-to-sea-paddling-descent","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/2012-missouri-mississippi-river-source-to-sea-paddling-descent\/","title":{"rendered":"2012 Missouri-Mississippi River – Source to Sea paddling descent"},"content":{"rendered":"

Distance: \u00a03780 miles \/ 6083 kilometres
\n<\/strong>Duration: \u00a0117 days (11.06.2012 – 05.10.2012)
\n<\/strong>Kayak: \u00a0P & H Scorpio 170<\/strong><\/p>\n

The 7 rivers 7 continents project is a multi-year undertaking to make paddling descents of the longest river on each continent. 22 000 miles in total.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Amazon River(South America) \u2013 6937 km (4300 miles) \u2013 completed 2007\/2008<\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n

Missouri- Mississippi River (North America) \u2013 6083 km (3780 miles) – completed 2012<\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n

Nile River(Africa) \u2013 6650 km (4132 miles)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yangtze River(Asia) \u2013 6300 km (3916 miles)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Volga River(Europe) \u2013 3645 km (2266 miles)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Murray-Darling River(Australia) \u2013 3370 km (2904 miles)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Onyx River(Antarctica) \u2013 40 km (25 miles)<\/p>\n

My descent of North America\u2019s longest river system, the Missouri-Mississippi River took 117 days paddling 3780 miles across the USA. \u00a0The descent began at the river\u2019s utmost source, Brower\u2019s Spring in Montana\u2019s Centennial Mountains. \u00a0The spring lies at an altitude of approximately 2680m above sea level. \u00a0In early June when I began my descent the spring was still covered by at least 1.5 metres of snow. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

On the 11th June I set off from my established base camp amongst the dense pine trees towards the spring. \u00a0I followed the upper most waterway known as Hell Roaring Creek; a steep narrow creek as closely as possible. \u00a0After 5 hours of ascent I was forced on to snow shoes. In my hand I carried bear spray and called out to bears till my voice became hoarse. \u00a0Finally, following 7 hours of hard uphill slog I reached the spring. \u00a0Waypoint marked, images recorded, my descent could begin.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

<\/strong>For several hours, Hell Roaring Creek alternately ran free and was covered by old snow and ice. \u00a0At this time, impossible to run. \u00a0Too much snow and not enough water. \u00a0After another 5 hours of descent I stumbled exhausted into my camp, day 1 over.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
\n<\/strong>
\nHell Roaring Creek runs out of steep sided canyon into a wide, flat valley floor. Still too shallow to kayak I would follow the creek for 22 miles on foot as it flowed into Upper and Lower Red Rock Lakes, closed at this time of year to paddling in order to protect nesting birds. \u00a0Still with bear spray in hand, moose, deer, eagles and other birds were to be found. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

As I passed the wildlife refuge office I arranged with the manager, Bill West to transport my kayak from my camp to the outlet of the lower lake. \u00a0Bill was happy to do so and in his pickup we explored the refuge on the way to collect the boat. \u00a0Bill dropped my kayak off and deposited me back at the office in order that I might not break my human-powered \u00a0journey. \u00a0With the sun setting I marched out the final 4 miles to my boat. \u00a0Bill had told me to keep an eye out for a wolf pack in the area. \u00a0Sure enough at dinner that evening they showed up, with little fear of my headlamp and yelling. \u00a0Bigger and much more bold than coyotes they watched a while before disappearing into the night.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>At dawn the next day I packed my kayak and slid into the water. \u00a0Finally I was paddling. \u00a0The Red Rock River flowed slowly and meandered like a lazy snake. \u00a0Sometimes deep enough, though often I dragged my boat across a rocky bottom. \u00a0The small river flowed into Lima Reservoir, which I crossed in a morning without a breath of wind. \u00a0My first portage around the dam was short and sharp. \u00a0Putting back on the water, the river now flowed much more quickly. \u00a0Sieves and strainers littered the banks and bends. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Piloting a near 17 foot boat round a sharp bend on a 18 foot wide fast flowing river takes some doing. \u00a0It was an intense beginning to a 4000 mile journey, but the Scorpio handled it all with ease. \u00a0I pulled hard on my paddle, utilising every stroke in my arsenal. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Soon enough, trees in the river became secondary obstacles. \u00a0Ranchers had begun to place fences across the narrow river. \u00a0At first, a few strands of wire appeared. \u00a0Sometimes I could duck underneath. \u00a0Other times it meant a quick exit, pushing the kayak beneath the lowest strand and submerging myself completely into the icy water. \u00a0Frustrating but all part of the journey. \u00a0Next, strands of electric fence criss crossed my path. \u00a0Were they live? \u00a0I had no plans to find out and avoided them as best I could. \u00a0Barbed wire fences were next. \u00a0Exiting a fast corner to see clusters of sharp wire blocking my way necessitated some pretty quick thinking. \u00a0Here and there I got caught up on the strands but managed to escape the worst. \u00a0The final fence variation was a hybrid of barbed wire and roofing iron completely blocking my path. \u00a0It was often a case of \u201cWTF?\u201d, but with no one around to complain to I simply pushed on.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The near 300 miles from Brower\u2019s Spring to Three Forks took a little under a fortnight. \u00a0It was both a beautiful and isolated descent, as well as being frustrating and mundane in it\u2019s sameness. \u00a0For days on end the river sat a metre or so below the river bank, short grass and an occasional cow poking it\u2019s nose over the edge. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Below Clark Canyon Reservoir the river became the Beaverhead. \u00a0Now, less isolated and suddenly busy. \u00a0Not with paddlers but fly fisherman in drift boats. \u00a0So common, sitting in deep pockets of river, it was an ordeal just keeping out of their way. \u00a0Sometimes a wave from an old timer but mostly their eyes never left the quivering end of their fishing poles. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Beyond the town of Twin Bridges the Beaverhead meets the Big Hole River to form the Jefferson. \u00a0My spirits soared on this stretch of waterway. \u00a0Clear, fast and wide it flowed. \u00a0Fields of green grass, colourful flowers and groves of cottonwoods lined the banks. \u00a0This is paddling I thought.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>All too quickly the Jefferson led me to Three Forks. \u00a0Here it meets with the rivers, Gallatin and Madison to form the Missouri River proper. \u00a0Already the muddy brown colour it will keep on it\u2019s long meander to the ocean, the Missouri grew wide and flowed at a rapid clip.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>The dammed upper covers almost 1500 miles and is pocked with a dozen lakes and dams. \u00a0Free flowing here and there but for the most part a slow haul across bodies of water ranging from a few miles long to more than 200. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Easily the most challenging are the \u201cBig 3\u201d. \u00a0Fort Peck Lake stretching more than 130 miles in length, it\u2019s shores dry and bleak cover a greater distance the the entire coast of California. \u00a0Little or no sign of man to be found. \u00a0Multiple 3-5 mile open water crossings to be made on a lake where the wind can go from still to gale force in 30 seconds. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Lake Sakakawea, more than 150 miles long and 10 miles at it\u2019s widest point. \u00a0Less isolated than Peck it\u2019s shores are more uniform and easier to follow. \u00a0Entering from it\u2019s western end is a game of guesswork. \u00a0A muddy delta with multiple braids blocks access to open water for many miles. \u00a0Maps are useless in this ever changing environment. \u00a0Instinct combined with trial and error led me to the lake proper.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Finally, the 230 mile long Lake Oahe appears. \u00a0Between 1 and 4 miles wide the lake has a reputation for being the most difficult to traverse on the entire river. \u00a0Being windbound for 4 days or more is not uncommon. \u00a0I made the crossing in 8.5 days, losing just a day and a half to wind.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>Of the 16 lakes and dams I traversed I paddled every lake and manually portaged every dam. \u00a0Sometimes this portage was a few hundred metres but often a couple of miles or more. \u00a0Loading my kayak onto the cart I hauled it up and over steep tracks and cross country to search for an appropriate put-in below the huge concrete expanse holding up the river.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>Gavins Point Dam, South Dakota sits just a few miles above the town of Yankton. \u00a0Here, my journey reached a significant milestone. \u00a0Below the dam, the Missouri would finally, after more than 1800 miles, run free till it\u2019s waters reached the Gulf of Mexico. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

My mind conjured up easy days paddling, the swift current aiding me along. \u00a0The first day out of Yankton into a stiff headwind and driving rain brought me to my senses. \u00a0Even though I was back to reality I was unswayed in my paddle to the ocean. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Days in my kayak were long. \u00a0I tried to be on the water at 7am and would paddle till 7pm, never leaving the water. \u00a0My alarm would sound like a jackhammer to my ears at 05:30 hrs every morning. \u00a0Dragging myself from my warm sleeping bag I would conjure up coffee and instant oats. \u00a0The task of breaking camp was smooth after a couple of months on river. \u00a0Rather than stop for the toilet I carried a pee bottle and instead of pulling ashore for lunch I would chow down on chocolate bars, oat bars, trail mix and beef jerky throughout the day. \u00a0As the sun began to set the search for a campsite would begin. \u00a0This year, in a complete reversal to last the Missouri River is at low water. \u00a0Many of the states through which it flows are in severe drought. \u00a0The benefit this brought me was a plentiful supply of exposed sand bars on which to spend the night. \u00a0Having found high ground, I would set up my tent and gather wood for a fire. \u00a0Dinner comprised of packet rice and pouches of tuna or sardines. \u00a0A fifth of the cost of dehydrated meals, just as light, if not quite as nutritious. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

On a good long day of paddling between Yankton and St. Louis (where the Missouri meets the Mississippi) \u00a0I could cover more than 70 miles. \u00a0My cadence became so rhythmic that I could time my arrival at mile markers to less than a couple of minutes over an entire day. \u00a0Some feat!<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>The 700 odd miles I paddled to St. Louis passed by in a couple of weeks. \u00a0Long days on the water, perfect isolated campsites punctuated by the odd muddy one or stealth camping in an urban park. \u00a0I would stop in towns whose waterfronts were accessible to me but avoided major centres like Omaha and Kansas City. \u00a0No place to leave a kayak and gear alone and expect it to be there on your return. \u00a0In small towns I would resupply with food and water, check emails and update my website before paddling on.<\/strong><\/p>\n

As the Missouri River mile markers ticked over and down towards 0, it signalled my approach to it\u2019s confluence with the Mississippi River. \u00a0First below 50, then below 20 and then 10. \u00a0As mile 1 appeared the mighty Mississippi swung into view on river left. \u00a0Before I knew it I was floating beyond the confluence point and into slack water where the 2 giant rivers meet. \u00a0I looked up the Missouri from where I had come. \u00a0All the way from the mountains of Montana to here. \u00a0Slowly the current of the river took me in it\u2019s grasp and the Missouri disappeared from view. \u00a0My final look was one of sadness. \u00a0I had met so many folk and experienced so many things up river. \u00a0Now, the waterway was sure to be different. \u00a0Slower, wider, busier. \u00a0I plunged my paddle blade into the water and swung my boat downstream. \u00a0Still well over a thousand miles remained on my journey to the gulf. \u00a0I had better get going I thought. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

St. Louis served well to resupply, repair and refresh me to continue on my way. \u00a0I had been warned up river that the river below St. Louis flowed much more slowly than above. \u00a0Navigating the Port of St. Louis took some concentration as barges and towboats chugged this way and that. \u00a0Barges were parked in their hundreds on both river banks and anchored in the middle of the river as well. \u00a0The wake from boat traffic and upstream wind gusts coupled with downstream water flow combined to make for an angry river. \u00a0Waves came from all directions intent on upending my kayak. \u00a0It took a couple of hours of constant paddle contact to clear this mess only to paddle into a severe storm. \u00a0Caught unawares I sheltered behind a half sunken barge as trees were felled by the wind and sheets of rain cascaded down. \u00a0By early evening the worst had passed and I paddled on to a marina whose docks had borne the brunt of the storm. \u00a0Walkways were thrown askew and ropes a tangled mess. \u00a0In spite of their own calamities the owners were more than happy for me to camp on their land. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

A couple of days below St. Louis sees the Ohio River enter from river left. \u00a0A mighty river in it\u2019s own right, it adds to the already voluminous river I was paddling. \u00a0Alas, rather than grow faster the river merely becomes wider. \u00a0Old river towns slipped by. \u00a0New Madrid and Caruthersville, two notable stops for resupply and a wander around for photos and a general explore. \u00a0Once important stops on the river, now a viewing platform and a handful of loading docks for grain silos provide a tenuous link to the past.<\/strong><\/p>\n

It took almost a fortnight to travel the 500 miles from St. Louis to the major city of Memphis. \u00a0It had become clear that my dreams of hard fought 70 mile days may perhaps be over. \u00a0Once more, fortunate to have friends in these here parts I spent 3 days exploring the city and readying myself for the final stretch with food, boat cleaning and catching up on much needed sleep. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

As had become the norm, I left the relative comfort of an urban area into pelting rain and strong headwind. \u00a0But, all the same, in my kayak, with dry jacket and spray deck on I was shielded completely from the elements. \u00a0The nose of my kayak easily sliced through the offending chop. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

100 or so miles below Memphis I reached the town of Helena, Arkansas. \u00a0A small town typical of this section of river in that it was in an unfortunate decline. \u00a0No jobs, little industry and not much hope for the future. \u00a0I stopped here in order to meet up with a friend of a friend and somewhat of a legend on the Lower Mississippi, John Ruskey. \u00a0John runs the Quapaw Canoe Company and builds, by hand dugout canoes, as well as running programs for disadvantaged and at risk youth. \u00a0I spent an evening with John and some friends on nearby Buck Island as they readied themselves for the weekend\u2019s coming Bear Dance Festival.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>Below Helena, my campsites took on surreal proportions. \u00a0Camping alone, far from anyone (apart from passing barges) on enormous sand bars I swam, cooked by a fire and camped out under the stars every evening for weeks. \u00a0If I had nowhere to go I would wish it to have never ended. \u00a0I stopped into the towns of Greenville, Vicksburg and Natchez all in the state of Mississippi. \u00a0In Natchez I was assured that now would be a good time to cease swimming each day in the river. \u00a0Upstream the previous week in Vicksburg they had pulled from the river 2 15 foot alligators. \u00a0Much less aggressive than crocodiles, I still had no desire to put them to the test.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>With a little under 300 miles to the gulf, the river began it\u2019s final transformation. \u00a0Flow often became non-existent, sand bars disappeared, replaced with thick scrub down to the waters edge and levee banks appeared. \u00a0Perhaps most difficult was the major increase in boat traffic. \u00a0As far up river as Baton Rouge, ocean going tankers ply their trade. \u00a0Natural gas, petrol, diesel, oil, grain and cement filled their enormous holds. \u00a0Hailing from China, Hong Kong, Eastern Europe, Panama and other far flung places these ships lay anchored in huge numbers along the river. \u00a0At rest they presented formidable obstacles, under steam they were a nightmare. \u00a0Their speed was unreal and difficult to gauge. \u00a0Crossing the now sometimes mile wide river was fraught with danger. \u00a0Not only these giants lay in my path but many more barges and towboats along with speedy crew boats. \u00a0From every corner and every hundred metres a boat would play chicken with me, cut across my bow or speed from behind. \u00a0Throw in headwinds and sudden rain storms reducing visibility to less than 10 metres and this final run to the coast was no fun at all.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>Outside New Orleans I came far too close to being machine gunned by a US Navy boat for straying too close (while trying to avoid a tanker bearing down on me). \u00a0After having paddled 3700 miles rather than wisely complying with the gunners instructions I let off a tirade of expletives as I paddled away. \u00a0The look of surprise on their crew\u2019s faces was priceless. \u00a0Silly in hindsight but it felt pretty right at the time. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

A couple of miles past New Orleans city centre lies the inter-coastal canal. \u00a0From here to open water is 2 miles. \u00a0A route that some long-distance paddlers choose. \u00a0Unfortunately for them it is incorrect if they wish to claim a full descent of either the Missouri-Mississippi or Mississippi alone. On the river proper still lies some 90 miles or more of slow paddling.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong>The last town on river with access by road is Venice, Louisiana. \u00a0A mash-up of ports and marinas. \u00a0Here was to be my final stop before reaching open ocean. \u00a0I slept little the night before what I hoped would be my final day on river. \u00a0From Venice to mile marker 0 is 10 or so miles. \u00a0But this is not open ocean. \u00a0Here lies the Head of Passes. \u00a0It is at the mouth of the South Pass where the Gulf of Mexico lay. \u00a0A further 14 miles of paddling. \u00a0I needed to paddle some 20 odd miles to the gulf and if unlucky, 20 miles back upstream. \u00a0A prospect I did not relish.<\/strong><\/p>\n

At first light I paddled out of the marina and on to the river once more. \u00a0At Pilot Town (a scattering of buildings housing the pilots who guide the tankers from the gulf to the river) I had to cross from river right to left. \u00a0By now boat traffic had been added to by crab boats, fishing boats, transport boats and more. \u00a0Holy heck! \u00a0I spied an opening as a tanker appeared up river a good few miles off. \u00a0By the time I had paddled across the river I avoided the Goliath by less than 50 metres. \u00a0A close call. \u00a0Below the Head of Passes and into the South Pass and things quieted down. \u00a0Here and there a fishing boat on charter would appear and I even chatted with some Fish and Game officers inquiring as to my business down in the pass. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

In a few miles a lighthouse appeared in the distance. \u00a0Port Eads. \u00a0Flattened in Hurricane Katrina, it was just now in the process of being reconstructed. \u00a0A tiny port and a couple of buildings was all there was. \u00a0As I neared the lighthouse I thought I could see the flash of paddles. \u00a0Couldn\u2019t be. \u00a0All the way down here? \u00a0It was. \u00a0Well then they must be local and decided to paddle out for a day or two down in the bayou. \u00a0Closer still I could see 2 kayaks their decks adorned like my own with spare paddles, deck bag etc. \u00a0I couldn\u2019t believe it. \u00a0After 3780 miles and 117 days and 1 mile from the ocean I came across Brent and Hunter from South Carolina. \u00a0An hour earlier they had completed their own long distance journey from Lake Itasca to the gulf following the 2350 mile Mississippi River. \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

We shook hands and smiled a lot. \u00a0They had secured a lift back upstream to Venice. \u00a0I wanted in on that ride! \u00a0I bid them goodbye with a request to wait and paddled like a madman towards open ocean. \u00a0Ever so slowly breakers came into view. \u00a0I paddled out of the pass and rode high over the waves. \u00a0To my left nothing but water and waves, to my right the same and in front the horizon. \u00a0I was there.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I had paddled 3780 miles in 117 days. \u00a0By beginning at the waterway\u2019s utmost source, Brower\u2019s Spring, I had become the first person to make a full source to sea descent of the longest river in North America.<\/p>\n

Additionally I had become the first person to paddle from source to sea the longest rivers in North and South America respectively.<\/p>\n

Mark Kalch<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Distance: \u00a03780 miles \/ 6083 kilometres Duration: \u00a0117 days (11.06.2012 – 05.10.2012) Kayak: \u00a0P & H Scorpio 170 The 7 rivers 7 continents project is a multi-year undertaking to make paddling descents of the longest river on each continent. 22 000 miles in total. Amazon River(South America) \u2013 6937 km (4300 miles) \u2013 completed 2007\/2008 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":80,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3,7,1],"tags":[21,19,33,32,31,34],"class_list":["post-1344","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-expeditions","category-news","category-trip-reports","tag-7-rivers-7-continents-project","tag-mark-kalch","tag-mississippi-river","tag-missouri","tag-scorpio","tag-source-to-sea"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1344","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/80"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1344"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1344\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1365,"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1344\/revisions\/1365"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1344"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1344"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.phseakayaks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1344"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}