River Gator

A winter exploration down the Mississippi River in a wooden canoe — no motors, only paddles. I couldn’t have dreamed of anything wilder. A 10-day expedition of 207 meandering miles on the most untamed river in North America.

An adventure between Vicksburg and Baton Rouge felt more like an invitation to join up with early explorers and fur trappers. It turned out to be perfect timing — the trip was scheduled Dec. 6-16. I didn’t have any upcoming work travel, and I could be home before rifle season reopened. A trip like this is why I had saved up vacation time.

This journey that could potentially kill me — I mean thrill me — wasn’t a new thing for the trip’s organizer, Quapaw Canoe Company, based in Clarksdale (with an additional outpost in Natchez). Their fearless leader, John Ruskey, is compiling River Gator, a paddler’s guide detailing the Lower Mississippi, the river section from St. Louis to the mouth at the Gulf of Mexico. River Gator will serve as a mile-by-mile go-to reference for anyone journeying down — or up — the river. The book, planned for release this year, will detail islands, campsites at low and high water levels, locations for resupply and places to explore.

A guide for adventure junkies is a grand idea, and I couldn’t believe one didn’t already exist. But, quickly, I realized why. It’s the Mississippi River, a certain death trap for paddlers that serves as the fourth largest watershed in the world and drains all or parts of 31 U.S. states. It’s known for being unable to curtail, with eddies and water boils capable of swallowing you and your gear.

I told several colleagues of my upcoming adventure. Their replies stemmed around questions of my life insurance policy and what my wife, Heather, would get when I didn’t return. It’s not unusual for me to spend days and evenings out on the sandbars with my 14-foot jon boat, and every year I’m told that it’s ludicrous to take such a small boat on such a big river. A canoe adventure seemed even wilder. And, I was all in.

I reserved myself a spot for the trip and began the task of compiling my gear. I discovered that Quapaw provided everything — paddles, food, water, all necessary safety gear and even a tent and sleeping bag. All I was required to bring were clothes, toiletries and refillable water bottles. An avid camper, I had my own sleep gear, and I was asked to demo a hammock and shelter system from Sierra Madre Research (SMr), a Vicksburg-based company.

We met midday Saturday at the Vicksburg waterfront, which launches into the Yazoo River Diversion Canal, merging into the Mississippi River. That Saturday was cold and ominous. The sky was filled with charcoal gray clouds and a chilling 8 mile per hour wind. It had rained all day, and the temperature was in the 50s, but it felt much colder. It could not have been a more dismal day, yet a strong vibe — like a battlefield sensation — was present on the landing. Everyone was ready. Everyone, that is, except Heather, who was freezing cold, bundled up with my raincoat. I could tell she was nervous for me to embark on such a journey.

We loaded all the gear and everyone pushed off and jumped into the canoes. Watching Heather wave goodbye was hard for a softie like me. As our canoe made way into the river, I gained an immediate respect for what this trip would entail. The waters were freezing, the wind was chilling and the sky could not have been more foreboding. This was a day for enjoying the indoors, yet we were just beginning our rugged, outdoor adventure.

Our crew numbered 10, including John, who called us Gators, referring, of course, to the book we were helping create. Our experiences would provide valuable intel into canoeing this stretch of the river in winter, at lower-than-normal water levels.

John was joined by three of his Quapaw team members from Clarksdale — Mark “River” Peoples, Braxton Barden and “Little Mike,” as well as Adam Elliott from the Natchez outpost. They made the entire journey, along with Ralph Pace, a conservation photographer out of San Diego; Layne Logue, a kayak/canoe enthusiast from Vicksburg; and me. Four passengers couldn’t make the whole trip, so two made the first stint to Natchez and two made the longer haul from Natchez to Baton Rouge. We were planning to resupply with bread, water and a few other necessities in Natchez, so the crew-swap was going to work out great. For the journey to Natchez, Michael Jones, a program manager for outdoor recreation at Visit Mississippi, and Tom Claycomb III, an outdoor writer from Idaho, joined us. At Natchez, the Orr brothers, Paul and Michael, environmental stewards from Baton Rouge, joined us for a trip down the river to their hometown.

Our transportation included a 23-foot Wenonah canoe and a 30-foot wooden canoe known as the Grasshopper. The Grasshopper was custom built by Quapaw out of locally resourced bald cypress — and capable of holding 14 passengers, or, in our case, 1,000 pounds of gear and seven passengers. The design of this wooden mammoth was gorgeous — simple, strong and built with purpose.

As our canoes cut the choppy waters, we paddled in sync for a couple hours, a nice warm-up session for my arms and shoulders. Our first night’s camp was just north of the Le Tourneau boat landing south of Vicksburg. We’d paddled 11 miles that afternoon until we found a small cove and sandbar. As our canoes planed onto the sandy shore, everyone quickly shed life jackets and unloaded gear. We provided a sturdy tie out with two lines securing the Grasshopper and one tied to Adam’s canoe, the Yellow Rocket — mustard yellow and faster than our loaded-down wooden canoe.

The veteran Quapaws prepared dinner while the Gators scavenged for firewood. Braxton was our fire starter. Watching him set-up fire each night was quite a display. It assuredly was not his first time. As he started the fire, we all began searching out spots to set up our tents for the night. Since I would be using a hammock, I headed into a wooded area where I saw Layne making camp with an SMr hammock and shelter. It was the first time for each of us to sleep in a hammock, which came equipped with a winter barrier to keep us warm and dry.

Back at the campfire was our first chance for us to get to know one another. Although the wind was biting, the warm, blazing fire and hot venison chili made the cold dissipate. Adam prepared the chili with campfire cornbread, which closely resembled a pancake. As we all devoured our hot meal, I called Heather to tell her we’d made it safely.

Since our campsite was only a few miles from our home, she decided to drive out to see the flames from our campfire across the river. As I saw lights pull up at the landing a mile or so away, the guys around the fire joked that it couldn’t be my wife. Heather, then, shined a spotlight up-river toward us. Still, the guys questioned me. I called her and had her flash the light three times, which quickly quieted the naysayers in the group. It was night one, and we were having a blast.

The next morning, we were stirring by 7. With a chilly temperature of 46 degrees, I dressed warmly, packed up my gear and made a beeline to the campfire. The coffee was on, and a campfire breakfast of eggs and bacon with sliced cantaloupe was in progress. We were on the water by 9 a.m., with a day of paddling ahead. We had twice the distance to cover as our first day and with 40 to 50 paddle strokes per minute, we were quickly pressing forward.

With John as our leader, we explored a few spots each day. Our lunches were midday stops and included turkey sandwiches with pepperjack cheese and apple slices, or similar. On two of the cooler days, we built a quick fire for warmth and enjoyed small-talk around a flame.

Our meals at night — always warm and tasty — were a highlight. We estimated 4,000 paddle strokes a day, so the protein and carbs were vital. Between Adam’s chili, Braxton’s raft potatoes with cheese and the gumbo we enjoyed on the last night, we feasted like kings. I’d brought alligator meat, deer meat and wild hog sausage that we added to an array of dishes and stews we made during the trip. I wanted Ralph and Tom to get a good dose of Mississippi wild game.

Outside of paddling, eating and sleeping, our days were filled with hearty conversations. Tom, like me, is an avid hunter. But, his stories involve bear, wolves and elk, while my hunting adventures are more of stalking wild hogs and hooking into big alligators. Ralph shared his expert knowledge of photography and helped several of the crew take night-sky photos. John played blues tunes with a travel guitar. For a makeshift guitar slide, we found an old beer bottle and etched the neck of the bottle with a multi-tool file and heated the etched part in the fire to break it cleanly. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. And, we had a blast making it.

Each day was a new adventure filled with fascinating scenes for a nature-buff like me. Some of my favorite stops were the Loess Bluffs of Tunica Hills and large sandbar islands, such as Spithead Towhead. We didn’t see river otter, but we found fresh tracks. The tree and plant ecologist in me was thrilled to peruse the forest landscape, and John seemed delighted to have me provide tree and notable plant species lists at each of our stops for him to incorporate in the River Gator.

The weather seemed to improve each day. Our coolest mornings were in the low 30s and our warmest days in the low 70s. No torrential wind or rain meant our journey took nine days instead of the 10 we had scheduled. As we approached Baton Rouge, the vista changed dramatically. We paddled past massive ships that made us feel like we were ants among a herd of elephants. Within a couple of hours of dodging freighters, our destination was in sight. It was an event of celebration as we pulled up to the landing.

Heather had made the drive to spend the evening with us at the Orrs’ place to celebrate a successful trip. I was sad to tell newfound friends goodbye. The Orr family sent Heather and me home with a bag of tangerines, grapefruits, oranges and kumquats that we’d picked from the trees on their property. I’m a sucker for citrus, and these were divine.

Quapaw will complete the final stretch of the Mississippi from Baton Rouge to the Gulf this summer, but they also offer shorter trips. When the weather warms up, Heather and I plan to have Adam drive up with gear and take us on a day trip around Vicksburg.

This trip took me back to my wild side and has reshaped my love of the Mighty Mississippi. The experience was an adventure unlike any other. I’d tell you that the Quapaws are crazy, but they are just adventure-seekers that all share a love of the Big River. A trip with these guys will push you to find your next wild adventure. So, get involved!

STORY Nathan Beane
PHOTOGRAPHY Ralph Pace
Portrait by Melanie Thortis