The Mississippi River was quite low--2.0 feet on the Memphis gauge--when Adam Davis and I paddled on Saturday. Hurricane Laura having brought heavy rains to the Mid South on Friday, there were impromptu waterfalls here and there along the riverbank as water ran off from the bottomlands.
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Yesterday Adam Davis and I got together for a somewhat more ambitious outing. Adam had never paddled the section of the Mississippi River from the Shelby Forest access to the Memphis riverfront before, so we loaded our boats on my car and drove up to Shelby Forest to do just that.
The remnants of Hurricane Laura had dumped a lot of rain on the Mid South Friday, and by yesterday the region was enveloped in warm, humid air. Fortunately, overcast skies kept the Fahrenheit temperature in the 80s. We launched from the boat ramp at Shelby Forest and paddled a solid, but not intense, pace down the river. Except for where it passes the occasional city like Memphis, Helena, Vicksburg, Natchez, or Baton Rouge, the lower Mississippi is quite the remote wilderness, and Adam and I took in the solitude as we paddled by such landmarks as the Hickman Bar, the Redman Bar, and the mouth of the Loosahatchie River.
Finally the downtown Memphis skyline came into view, and we made our way past the mouth of the Wolf River, Mud Island, and the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. Then we were in the harbor approaching our journey's terminus at Harbortown Marina. When it was all over we had paddled for two hours and were thoroughly exhausted. I paddle for two hours once in a while and it doesn't seem like I'm usually so tired, but the muggy conditions were a factor, as was the fact that the entire production consumed the better part of five hours (we had to take Adam's vehicle back up to Shelby Forest to retrieve my car at the end).
In any case, I'm glad we got out and saw a longer section of the river. Keeping my boat at the marina means I mostly see the same landscape over and over when I paddle, so it's good to be paddling most weekends with a guy like Adam who'll motivate me to alter my routine once in a while.
I was still feeling tired this morning and knew that my body could use something briefer in duration and higher in intensity. So after warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I paddled up to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge and did some hard ferries. I ferried fast from the piling on the Tennessee bank to the middle piling, then paddled a rest interval from the middle piling to the piling on the Arkansas side of the main channel, then ferried fast back to the center piling, then recovered from the center piling to the piling on the Tennessee bank. Then I repeated that sequence for a total of four fast ferries. I didn't time myself or shoot for a specific speed or anything, but I'd say each fast ferry amounted to about 90 seconds of hard paddling.
After that I returned to the harbor and headed back toward the dock. Along the way I timed myself in a sprint from the monorail bridge to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. The distance is very nearly 450 meters, and I covered it in 2 minutes, 1 second. That works out to about 2:14 for a full 500-meter sprint--not so bad, I guess, for a guy who just turned 53.
Maybe it seems counterintuitive to go out and do some hard paddling on a morning when you're feeling really tired, but I felt a lot better after this morning's session. A hard workout like that produces endorphins, resulting in an "elated tired" feeling that stands in contrast to the "beat-down tired" feeling one has after an hours-long slog.
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It's been a mostly unremarkable week of paddling. The remnants of Hurricane Laura are passing through the Memphis area today and I'd been hopeful of some downwind conditions out on the Mississippi, but instead we're just having a lot of rain with not particularly strong winds. So I stayed in and worked on the house.
I paddled a loop of the harbor with Joe on Tuesday. The weather was warm but not too humid. By yesterday it was a different story: during my time on the water the temperature was moderate but the humidity was through the roof.
Yesterday's session consisted of a set of 8-stroke sprints and some steady paddling out on the river.
As for some better news, I think I'm having some improvement in that arm achiness. I've been doing the exercises that my chiropractor showed me, and pretty soon I'd like to get a strength routine going again.
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I met Adam Davis at 10 o'clock yesterday morning and we paddled for 90 minutes. Adam's G.P.S. device recorded where we went:
There are stories behind the zigs and zags. There was a barge rig coming upriver as we left the harbor, and the scribble at Mile 2 is the surfing we did on its wake. Later, as we made our way up the Arkansas bank (the left side of this map, despite the misleading placement of the words "Tennessee" and "Arkansas"), we had to paddle around the ends of wing dams that were exposed at the Memphis gauge reading of 4.2 feet. That's why those sharp corners are there just before Mile 5 and Mile 6.
I was back in the boat this morning doing all the usual things in a 60-minute session. I warmed up. Did some 8-stroke sprints. Worked on my forward stroke. Surfed on some big, fast-moving waves churned up by a barge rig hurrying downstream.
After a very nice week, it's sort of getting hot again today. But soon the temperatures will be milder once again with chances of rain as tropical storms Marco and Laura move in to the southern United States.
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William T. Endicott spent many years as the coach of the U.S. whitewater team that competed internationally in slalom and wildwater racing. On his watch, the U.S. team became a medal-winning force in a sport that had long been dominated by European nations.
Over the years, Endicott wrote a series of books about the physical and mental aspects of canoe and kayak racing. I own them all, and they were a huge influence on my ideas of why I participate in paddlesports and what it means to be a lifelong athlete.
Endicott has written a new essay in which he looks back on his experiences. The essay is posted on the Potomac Whitewater Racing Center website. The PWRC, formerly known as the Bethesda Center of Excellence, and before that the Canoe Cruisers Association Slalom Division, is Endicott's home club and produced many of this country's most successful whitewater racers.
Most of this new essay consists of ideas Endicott expressed in his earlier writings, so there's not a whole lot that's entirely new to me. "Fascination with the process" is a concept that pervades practically every Endicott piece I've ever read. But reading this essay has provided a shot of inspiration in the current challenging times.
At one point in the essay Endicott quotes the Greek philosopher Epictetus: "Man is not disturbed by events, but by his opinion of the events." He goes on to say, "[The quote] reminded me to focus on the positive, what to do about the situation, and not just to wallow in the negative."
That sums up my own reaction to the COVID-19 pandemic. Back in the spring, when the shock of the viral threat was still fresh, I knew it was important not to let this be a "wasted" year, that I should spend it on projects and activities that I can look back on with satisfaction later.
I'm not going to pretend that I have successfully located the key to inner peace. There have been moments when I have allowed the negative aspects of the pandemic--the cancelation of so many events I look forward to, the inability to travel, the feelings of isolation as I sit home alone--to plunge me into despair.
But in spite of that, I have kept moving, both in and out of the boat. In my non-athletic life, the pandemic has dampened demand for my woodworking services, so I've used the extra time to tackle home-improvement projects that had needed doing for years. Some of these projects are rather ambitious, messy, and intimidating, and that's why I'd put them off as long as I had, but now that I've dived in I'm slowly producing some satisfying results.
As far as paddling goes, the pandemic has more or less wiped out my race season. There are a few races going on here and there, but so far I've been skittish about hitting the road. Instead, I've kept up my paddling routine here at home. With no races to do, I've done practically no "work" workouts (timed intervals and the like), but I've eagerly pursued "play" workout opportunities and worked a lot on skills and technique, putting together a year in which my volume and intensity of training are not much shy of normal.
The experience has reminded me that racing is not the primary reason that I paddle. I've said in years past that the real fulfillment comes from the routine of going down to the river a few times each week, where I enjoy some time in the outdoors, get some exercise, and look for ways to paddle my boat a little bit better. That's what Bill Endicott calls "fascination with the process."
This week Joe and I did our regular loop of the harbor on Tuesday. And then yesterday I paddled for 70 minutes. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I paddled down the Mississippi to the Harahan Bridge and came back up along the Arkansas bank. There was a barge rig coming downriver as I was ferrying back to the Tennessee side, so I grabbed a quick "play" workout on its wake. The waves were moving a bit too fast for me to get any kind of lengthy ride, but my attempts amounted to a good set of hard sprints.
Just in case you're reading this and would like to check out Endicott's writing yourself: I typed "William T. Endicott" into the search field on Amazon, and discovered that quite a few of his books can still be had. His older books on whitewater racing are now out-of-print collector's items, and the copies on Amazon are rather pricey, but worth the investment for the person who's fascinated by our sport's history. Meanwhile, there's a much more recent book about French slalom world champion Fabien Lefevre, as well as a 2003 book about Endicott's "day job" working on Capitol Hill, An Insider's Guide to Political Jobs in Washington. Wherever you wish to start, you won't be disappointed by the lessons Endicott offers.
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Saturday morning brought an activity I hadn't seen in a while: a group paddle. I was planning to meet Adam Davis like I had many times this year, but this time he recruited several additional people: Kata Dismukes, Ralph Dismukes, and Fancher Smith. Our fivesome paddled from the harbor up to the mouth of the Wolf River and back.
As we made our way up the Mississippi there was a huge barge rig churning upriver, and as it pulled even with us I decided to ferry out and see what kind of surfing I could achieve. The waves were moving quite fast and I was having trouble getting up enough speed to catch anything. Eventually, as I fell back onto the smaller swells, I managed to get a couple of decent rides. Here's a look at the best moment:
For some reason my Go Pro camera didn't record any sound for this footage. Or maybe it got lost when I imported the file into the iMovie application on my laptop... I'm not sure. I've been having all kinds of glitches like that and I guess I need to figure out where the problem is.
Anyway... after that set of hard sprints I had to get back over to the Tennessee bank and then paddle a strong pace to rejoin the group, so I got my workout in for the day. The rest of the session was spent paddling a leisurely pace and enjoying the lovely morning.
I was tired in the boat this morning, and aside from a set of three 8-stroke sprints, I kept the intensity pretty low. There was no motorized traffic out on the river and I paddled a relaxed loop out there.
We're having yet another period of uncharacteristically pleasant weather for August in the Mid South. After that really nice spell we had about ten days ago, I thought for sure the oppressive heat would be back with a vengeance. But for most of this summer we've gotten off pretty easy. I don't understand it, but I'm not complaining. And I'm especially happy for those who lack decent air conditioning or other ways to escape the heat. The usual practice during a major heat wave is for the city to provide some sort of "cooling centers" for such citizens--typically community centers or similar public spaces--but the pandemic presents a challenge because more space is needed for adequate social distancing.
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Pasted below is a piece that appeared on the Think Surfski Company's Face Book page. World-class racer Sean Rice discusses "wash riding" (also known as wake riding) as an invaluable racing skill.
I've employed wake riding in my racing for many years now, and if you look back on my past race reports you'll see that I mention it often. I don't guess there's much information below that I didn't already know on some level. Nevertheless, I was fascinated to read Mr. Rice's thoughts on it, and I think it's very important to see what others have to say about something you think you're doing well. I'm always reassured when one of the world's most accomplished paddlers affirms something I'm doing, and I've also found that such a person can offer angles on a familiar topic that I hadn't considered before.
Sean Rice - Wash Riding
I had a freak accident in my home Sunday evening. I slipped on a wet floor and smashed my right foot into a chair leg, breaking the pinky toe. There's not a whole lot you can do for a broken toe besides let it heal, but I did visit my doctor Monday just in case it needed to be reset. It didn't, but at least I got X-ray confirmation that there is in fact a fracture.
So here I am dealing with some pain I could have done without. In most respects I'm able to function as before, but I'm walking with a limp and having to be careful not to put any undue stress on the area.
On Tuesday I paddled for the first time since the accident, and the toe didn't hurt any worse in the boat than out of it. Joe and I paddled a loop of the harbor and I performed okay with my neoprene shoes on and my feet against the footboard under the foot strap.
I was back in the boat this morning, and as I paddled out of the harbor I came across a through-paddler: a lady named Ann arrived in Memphis this morning some two months after her journey started at Lake Itasca in Minnesota. She's headed for the Gulf of Mexico, and I wish her all the best.
I went on out to the Mississippi and looped above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge and back. I paddled a pretty strong pace and felt good.
Back here at home, my foot hurts. I'm told it'll take around 30 days for me to be able to stress it normally again, and a couple of months or more for the bone to heal completely. Not much I can do but grit my teeth and endure it.
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Adam Davis and I got together for a rousing 100-minute paddle yesterday morning. We met beneath the A.W. Willis Avenue bridge in the harbor, and paddled out of the harbor and up the Mississippi until we'd covered five miles; then we came back down. Adam's G.P.S. device shows the world where we went:
As we approached the Hernando DeSoto Bridge there was a big barge rig coming upriver. While Adam paused to take a selfie, I headed for its wake to see what kind of surfing could be had. I'm the little speck at about two o'clock from the top of Adam's head:
I was genuinely puzzled. Most towboat pilots don't seem to care when I play around on their wakes. Maybe this one was simply not aware that it's a reasonably safe thing to do for a paddler of a certain fitness and skill level. I was never anywhere near close enough to his stern to worry about getting sucked into the screws. Maybe the guy just doesn't like other people having fun while he's at work.
Oh well... I tried to shrug off any hurt feelings and return to the harbor feeling good about starting my weekend with ten miles in the boat.
Summer is back in the Mid South. The Fahrenheit temperature is rising into the 90s for the first time in a surprisingly long while. This afternoon the heat index reached triple digits, but out on the river this morning it didn't seem too bad yet. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I went out onto the river hoping to find some friendlier towboat pilots. But the river was deserted, so I just paddled steady and enjoyed the sunshine.
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