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Journal Notes from the November 1998 Float to the Sea:
DAY 4
November 8th, Leota Bar
After a rainy night
with lightning flashes over the Arkansas shore, I woke up and found that
the river had risen several inches, and my Water Pony was drifting
dangerously close to the channel. I jumped up and tightened her lead rope.
It was then I noticed a crane, fishing remarkably close, and seemingly not
upset by my presence in the hazy grey light of morning.
This was
the start of a rise that was forecasted to last a week, and would be sure
to help speed up my journey a little. Rising river water is something like
the onset of an ocean wave, a very long, very slowly rising wave. Yet
whereas waves on the ocean are measured in feet or yards, the periodic
rising and falling of the river might be weeks between crests.
Leota Bar turned out to be a pristine sand bar, six miles from end
to end. It has several parallel ridges of high sand topped with willow
trees and cottonwoods. Seperating the bar from the land around the bend of
the river is a deep valley ("deep" in terms of the Mississippi
Valley - maybe thirty or fourty feet). There was a lake therein contained,
with several flocks of pelicans. You could see the dikes on the upstream
side, just a couple feet above river level. It was easy to imagine this
corridor of sand filled with flood waters during the spring rise.
It turned out to be a rainy day, on-and-off rain, smoky blue
cinnamon skies, highly articulated, and quite striking in their
reflections off of the water. I floated most of the day, amid a variable
wind, sketching and relaxing and watching the endless lines of trees slip
by. By-and-by Arkansas turned into Louisiana on the Western shore so I
knew I was getting somewhere. I stopped at the Mayersville, MS, landing,
intending to walk into town to call someone. Anyone. It was one of those
BellSouth moments. I was tired and lonely, and wanted to talk to a
friendly voice. My river chart showed town to be just over the levee, a
half mile east of the river. I set off in high spirits, but soon found
myself in a low, swampy area where there had been recent logging, and the
road I was supposed to follow disappeared into the muck. It was then that
I wished I had taken Wesley's advice and gotten a cell phone for the
journey.
It felt late when I got back on the river. I tried to
make another "town" landing at Lake Providence, LA, similarily
situated on the levee, close to river's edge. "No Trespassing"
Signs killed that attempt. I was going to paddle back up the Lake
Providence Harbor, but it was a five mile paddle in dead water and I just
didn't want to do that much work. Besides, the waves were beginning to
pick up. Getting to town just wasn't meant to be that day.
Darkness found me at the bottom end of Ajax Bar, in a wierd
landscape sculpted by raging flood waters and tall dikes made of cold
stones that stretched out unbelievably far out from the banks. I can't say
why exactly, but the stones just looked and felt cold on that drizzly day.
A flock of Canadian Geese greeted me ashore. I pitched tent high above
water level in some young willows on a bluff of sand.
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