 |
These bluffs have been watching over this twisting river for centuries -- long before Martin Luther would post his ninety-five propositions to the Catholic Church in 1517, and later as Michelangelo's paint was drying on the Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel.
The Mississippi River is well worth traversing. When floating on its muddy surface, it doesn't seem to be anything but ordinary. But it is not -- quite the contrary.
Using the Missouri River as part of its main branch, it is one of the longest rivers in the world -- four thousand three hundred miles. It discharges three times as much water as the St Lawrence, twenty-five times as much as the Rhine, and three hundred and thirty-eight times as much water as the Thames. No other river has so vast a drainage-basin. It draws its water supply from thirty-one states and territories -- from Delaware on the Atlantic seaboard, and from all the country between that and Idaho in the west.
The Mississippi receives and carries to the Gulf of Mexico water from fifty-four subordinate rivers that are navigable by boat, and from some hundreds that are navigable by canoes and kayaks. The area of its drainage-basin (1,837,000 square miles) is as great as the combined areas of England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Austria, Italy and Turkey.
This summer is a rebirth for me. It has brought back a flood of memories of my earlier times on the river. As a shadow, cast by the canopy above our heads, shifts to the front of the boat, I realize it has been more than 30 years since I last captained a boat on these ageless waters.
Time, like the waters beneath our twin pontoons, continues unabated by location, education and family.
As a child, my father would take my brother, sisters and I fishing for crappies, northern pike and sunfish on the Mississippi. Much of the fishing was off the main channel, back into the marshy sloughs and tributaries that were populated by tall river grass, duckweed and waterlilies. Sometimes, we would challenge my dad's boating expertise by maneuvering over wing dams -- rocking back and forth as the waters churned about us -- while fishing for the elusive rock bass.
I remember getting up early one morning to trap turtles, standing on the seat of our aluminum fishing boat, holding a barbed spear -- readying my throw. The food we used to trap turtles was carp, which were rolling and splashing all around me. It was easy picking and exciting to launch the spear, watching it fly through the early morning mist to its destination. With a pull on the rope still in the boat, I would drag back the carp, then throw it into the bottom of the boat, where it would kick and twist until it died. I would stand there (breathing in the smell of water, fish and algae) and raise my eyes to the horizon. From my vantage point in the boat, I could see the ever-present bluffs -- sometimes green, sometimes orange and yellow -- surrounding the Mississippi River and the Coulee region.
By the time I was a teenager, my fishing tackle was replaced with a cooler full of beer and pop. My fishing gear was now a pair of swimming trunks, and the gentle "put-put" of my father's fishing boat was replaced by the roar of a much larger ski boat and its 260 HP Mercruiser. A soggy mid-morning meal of braunschweiger sandwiches was now a decidedly unhealthy bag of chips and dip. Many an afternoon was spent floating in the backwaters of the Mississippi, dreaming of cute girls in bikinis and listening to the youthful sounds of Bruce Springsteen, Chicago and Rush.
 |
When Liz and I were looking at buying a boat this spring, we decided on a pontoon boat. Our youngest son Sean would probably disagree -- since he likes speed and a steady stream of spray cascading over the bow of the boat -- but the slow ride of a pontoon makes it perfect for entertaining, tubing and idling up and down the river.
We have had our friends on the river numerous times, sometimes to travel into the backwaters or sometimes to travel up the river to the Dresbach locks and dam. We've discovered new locations to eat along the sides of the river, behind its bends and turns and off the heavily travelled main branch.
A trip south to Genoa can take an hour (or less if you open the throttle), and along the way you will see bald eagles soaring overhead or perched on a dead tree limb waiting for its meal. Along the shallow shores you can find blue herons, stoically standing watch as our boat floats by. The river serves as a major migratory route for water fowl and waterbirds. In the fall, Tundra swans descend on the backwaters near Stoddard, WI and its neighboring Goose Island habitat.
We are fortunate to live at the junction of three rivers, with the Black and La Crosse rivers running into the Mississippi. While the lazy La Crosse River provides a wonderful backdrop through the marshy lands near the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse, anything larger than a kayak or small canoe will have trouble getting far. The Black River, on the other hand, is prime property for condos and water houses, which dot the shores with their faded yellows, blues and reds. On a typical afternoon you will find people lounging in their chairs (or even recliners) watching boats travel up and down the passage that connects the upper Black River to the Mississippi channel.
On this particular day, Liz and I are returning from the upper reaches of the Black River, idling through a no wake zone. As we approach a railroad bridge used by the Canadian Pacific Railway to cross the Black and Mississippi rivers, we are given a brief reprieve from the summer's humidity and heat. At times, we are able to watch as a train rumbles overhead, heading to Minnesota, the Dakotas and finally to the western United States. If I breathe deep enough, I can smell tar, steamy and sticky, that has long ago bubbled up on the bridge's beams, heated by a relentless summer sun.
It's amazing the number of times you can make the same trip on the Mississippi, yet see something different every time.
Mark Twain, that great connoisseur of life on the Mississippi River, talked about the face of the water representing a wonderful book. A book that contains a dead language to the uneducated passenger, but when told by those who travel its length, a book of secrets delivering its most cherished secrets as clearly as if it uttered them with a voice. And it's a book, that if opened every day, should not be thrown aside, for it tells a different story every time. As proof, on some days we will find a hidden bend that appears magically, opening into a secluded tributary that leaves one feeling like they're miles away from home.
Today's river traffic consists of pontoon boats like ours, fishing boats, powerful speed boats and cruisers that I think are better suited for oceans or seas. Barges -- hauling coal, corn and oats -- are commonplace as the price of fuel continues to climb.
 |
In a nod to the nostalgia of these old steamers, La Crosse provides docking to the Julia Bel Swain and occasionally the American Queen and Delta Queen. The size and elegance of these boats draw passengers from throughout the world as they paddle their way from New Orleans, Louisville and Ohio.
Today, life on the Mississippi River has become much more commonplace, accessible to rich and poor. Where plantations and many of the country's early millionaires once lived, there are now casinos and small towns abandoned by an era that has moved on without them.
Perhaps that is one of the biggest reasons I have returned to the river -- it harkens back to a simpler time. Before cell phones and computers ruled our lives, there was a way to escape the ties to humanity and its interminable pressure. The gentle sway of waves, or the sudden swell from the wake of a barge take your mind off the client or patient who demands the impossible. Its graceful curves, with reflected images of sunsets, woody heights and soft distances dissolve the worries of the day and give promise to a new day.
Life on the Mississippi is good. Always has been and always will be.
"I'm growing tired of the big city lights
Tired of the glamour and tired of the sights
In all my dreams I am roaming once more
Back to my home on the old river shore
I am sad and weary, far away from home
Miss the Mississippi and you."
- Emmylou Harris
No comments:
Post a Comment