The Big River Trifecta
This Endeavor, little did I know it at the time, evolved into the concept for Art & Rugby Endeavors. I lived on the floor of a boat shop in Ithaca, NY, where I worked during the day, and spent nights trying to make progress building on my own rowboat. The idea was to finish this boat over the course of a few months, and row it down the Mississippi River. Then, the hope was to put my new found wood working skills to use through a boat building program of sorts for youth. This three phased plan developed and took place over the course of five years. I learned a ton throughout the process, made some incredible memories, and maybe gained a little wisdom. Best of all, I caught glimpses of inspiration in others who embraced this passion for boats and getting out there. It spawned the notion of Learn, Create, Experience, Share... Inspire! A cumbersome tagline, but this model could be a key to a different approach to our work, leisure, and how we pursue and infect others with our passions.
Part 1: The Ithaca Saga
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I was vaguely aware of my lack of woodworking skills when I started this project, but I knew I would have to avoid my tendency to get bogged down in details by overcoming a fear of mine--asking for help. The crew at Cayuga Wooden Boatworks were almost as great in their craftsmanship as they are of character. Here I had all the resources I needed to make this happen, although I still figured out plenty of ways to make mistakes along the way!
Starting with plans for the Lincolnville Salmon Wherry from Duck Trap Woodworking, I built the jig with associated station molds that would shape the boat.
The keel, stem, and transom were attached and battens bent to the molds to represent the edges of the lapstraked planks.
As the planks went on, the boat slowly took shape. After the outwhale was attached, the shell was removed from the molds and oak ribs were steam bent and sprung into place
I moved out to Ithaca for the haul out season, when boats were lifted from their moorings and bunked on beams for the winter. Sail boats had their masts de-stepped and were stored in the yard. And our John Deer tractor even got in on the action!
Saturdays I'd head to the famous Ithaca farmers Market and check out the town. Ithaca is, after all, gorges.
In the end, my dad drove out to pick me up along with the boat for the trip back to Wisconsin. Dennis Montgomery and his crew saved me from endless mistakes and provided the guidance I needed to get the boat going. There was a long way to go to finish it back in Wisconsin, but Whisper was launched in the Summer of 2006. There was a steep learning curve to this chapter, but I must have done it right because the stories and memories from this chapter just won't quit!
Part II: The Big River Trip
After the epic christening of Whisper and the Ultimate party raid that I won't go into here, Whisper spent the winter in a garage of a house where I was living in the pantry for $100 a month. I took some classes and worked to save some money, but come spring, it was time to hit the River.
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I put in on April 30 at Ferryville, WI on the Chippewa River. The day before my 30th birthday. It rained cats n dogs and I wondered what the hell I was doing this for. Next morning I paddled under clearing skies and soaring eagles and by evening I knew I was in the right place as I pitched camp.
The next day, May 2, I entered the immense landscape of the Mississippi. It wasn't long before I was thankful for the weatherliness of Whisper.
Big Water, Big barges, and Big Locks. But any vessel can go through, as the lockmaster here told me about a guy who came through staddling a plank lashed to a couple barrels!
I reveled in the solitude and treasure the insights it fosters through personal experience.
I also found that when people don't have an Up North to escape to, as in Wisconsin, they hit the water. My weekends were full of people curious about this guy with the weird accent and no motor. There was no end to people's generosity who wanted to hear this story and celebrate it.
The two bottles of homemade wine in the pics were given to me by one of the guys in the first picture. They were shared widely and followed me the whole way downstream.
Stopped in at Hannibal, MO to check out the inspiration for Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher.
You can see the separation of waters at the Confluence of the Ohio River with the muddy Mississippi at Cairo, IL.
Tugs pushing rafts of barges upstream left a few waves to contend with...
I took some time off the river at Memphis, roughly half way to the Gulf. I hung with my nieces who live there for a couple days and my parents came down to visit. My dad and I met the Louisiana Mojo and a few other friends on Beale street before I headed back downstream.
I made my way downstream, making more friends, taking in more sunsets and storms. After the Missouri and Ohio Rivers dump in, the current was stronger yet and some days I made almost 70 miles. After Baton Rouge, however, the river isn't channeled. It is maintained at 50 feet in most places to accommodate ocean freighters. Most of the shoreline is constructed-either sea wall or rip-rap, and there were few sandbars for camping. It was a struggle to make 50 miles a day and afternoon thunderstorms often forced an early camp. Other times it was a welcome bath.
One afternoon I decided to swing in and check my email at a library in Donaldsonville, LA. I stayed too long, talking with a friend on the phone. Back on the river that afternoon, the burgeoning storm clouds were amazing to see, but the storm I was forced to row through was particularly wicked. Visibility was low and I was forced to break a cardinal rule: I was out on the river after dark. I had navigation lights, but they were nothing compared to the commotion and industry going on around me. One commercial farrier was cruising along, bearing down on me as I made a crossing in a last ditch effort to find a sandbar on the lee side of a river bend. It's captain saw me and avoided me, but it was a nerve-wracking experience. Once I made it to the riverbend, I almost broke down as I made out the line of a sandbar against the black water and background. I barely had the strength to pitch my tent and dive in before passing out.
That harrowing night was exhausting, but it didn't get any easier. The next day was over 12 hours on the water and ended with me sitting inside my tent, bracing the poles against the wind for 90 minutes, waiting for a green clouded storm to pass through.
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The day after that I made the final push to New Orleans. I had to; there was no place to go ashore. After 12 hours of industrial river I made it to Nola. I had to pass right by the French Quarter because there was no mooring. My only rest would be found at a Marina on Lake Pontchartrain, achieved via the Intracoastal Waterway, clear on the other side of the Crescent City.
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As I was waiting to lock through to the industrial canal, the captain of this tug announced over the loudspeaker that he wanted a word with me. He walked out on his barge toward me, and I expected to get an earful for disrupting river traffic. He was all excited and asked, "Were you up in Vicksburg about 3 weeks ago? I knew it was you up there-Man, you were in the middle of Nowhere!" He invited me up to his air conditioned pilot house to show me around and offered ice cold bottled water from his personal fridge. They sure aren't roughin' it too badly aboard those tugs!
I was locked through to the Intracoastal Waterway and made my way out to Lake Pontchartrain under a favorable tide. I tasted a little salt in the water and watched the sun sink into the clouds on the horizon. headed for the Marina, where I slept on a dock near Marina the next two nights. After these last days I was going to take a day's before heading to Venice, LA, and Mile 0 on the River-- The Head of Passes. But first I was checking out NOLA.
I left before dawn on the morning of June 22. I played the tide once again back through the Intercoastal Waterway and Locked up to the Big River. As the water in the lock leveled with that of the Mississippi, a horn blasted. Back on the Upper Mississippi River, this meant to let go of your tethering and exit the lock. I released the line I'd been holding and positioned myself in the center of the lock. The Lockmaster came out and screamed at me, "What the HELL are you doing!? I didnt' tell you to let go of that line! You don't release your mooring till I say so! You're gonna git yerself killed on the MISSISSIPPI RIVER!"
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I growled back at him, "Oh yeah? Well it didn't kill me in 1600 miles so far!"
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He quietly opened the upper gate on the lock and I left, quite confident I wouldn't have any trouble in the 90 miles of relatively benign river left to go.
Next day, I made it to Venice, LA. This was after the Coast guard came by and hovered in front of me in a helicopter and then a rescue boat came to check on me. I camped at the Cypress Cove Marina and the following morning rowed the last four miles to the place where the river forks into three channels that flow into the Gulf-The Head of Passes. Mile 0 on the river. Because I'd need to hitch a ride back up against the current, I didn't want to risk going down a channel into the Gulf and not encountering any fishermen. So it was here that I let go of my first piece of litter the entire trip.
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After finishing the first bottle of homemade wine at Clarksville, MO, we had the idea to put personal messages in the bottle. Many of the people I met along the way after that followed suit. Here, at the end of the line, I inserted my contact information, corked the bottle, and tossed it in the River to head out to the ocean. I haven't heard from anyone who's found it yet...
While I was prepared to sell my boat and hop a bus or hitch hike back to Wisconsin, my dad insisted on driving down and picking me up. So, we met in Venice, built a cradle once again for the boat, and headed to New Orleans for the night.
We stumbled on a hotel with secure parking for the truck and all my gear in the open bed, and it was just off Bourbon Street.
We were both exhausted and ready to crash in the early afternoon, but I suggested a game of pool at bar where I met some great people a few days earlier, just a block from our hotel. Turned out they were dog friendly, as are most places in Nawlins, and we met everyone there and were even invited to a wedding the next day. We finally made it back to the hotel at 4:00 the next morning!
And that second bottle of homemade wine bestowed to me by the Bikini Island River Rats way up in Muscatine, IA?
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It got one passed around one last time at the wedding we were invited to, and my dad got to do the honors. For all the support he's provided me on this and other adventures, I owe him far more than that.
Part III: Boat Building in Milwaukee
After three different attempts at getting a boat building program going, I learned about a brand new school in Milwaukee that specialized in it. I didn't have a teaching license, but I went down and checked it out anyway. They were staffed for the year, so I didn't give it much more thought. I did pursue my teaching certificate, and wound up teaching there a year later and eventually running the boatshop. We launched the school's first boat the fall of my first year teaching, and by the end of the next year we christened five more that were built through daily classes and our afterschool program. The school no longer exists, but the program lives on under the guise of Bill Nimke as All Hands Boatworks. Below is a sampling of the work and one of the trips I had the opportunity to oversee in my two years at the school.
Construction of Gucci
This Bevin's Skiff design used by the Alexandria Seaport Foundation, was built over the course of a two-week intensive and was christened Gucci, cause as I was told by one of the hardest working students on this project at times of stress, "It's all Gucci. We got this."
Construction of Little Thing
End of Season Trip on the Lower Wisconsin River
