Note: The following is based on my 04-16-2015 journal entry from our Wabash River to the Gulf of Mexico (source-to-sea) kayak trip.
A storm chased us to the tent, resFor the first few miles after we left Logansport, Indiana, today, we encountered shallow waters again. The resulting rapids are stressful to me—John enjoys the challenge. I expected rapids before Markle, but not this far downstream. Before yesterday, I can’t remember the last time I heard John say, “Follow me” as we maneuvered our way through the rocks that created the bubbling waters. Interesting how things disappear from your life without you even realizing they’re gone. Fortunately, the North Eel River pours into the Wabash below Logansport, causing the river levels to increase and the rapids to go away. A disappearance I was aware of and thankful for.
The water levels aren’t the only things changing: the foliage is becoming lusher, the soil sandier. In addition, the river flows around more islands. Yes, islands in the Wabash River! John, as always, had something to add—his definition of an island. “The difference between an island and a sandbar is an island has a tree.”
I love to challenge John’s pretense at knowledge, so I asked, “If an island has only one tree and the tree dies, does the island become a sandbar?”
Silence—he didn’t have an answer. (John without an answer? Amazing!) No matter what the actual definition of an island is, seeing islands in the Wabash River surprised me. Because of my research while preparing for our trip over the last year, I knew islands exist in the Mississippi but didn’t realize they are also in the Wabash. Another example of the education my river view is providing.
Our wildlife spotting from our river view today consisted of our first cormorant of this trip and a pair of pileated woodpeckers. John and I reminisced about an additional cormorant encounter we experienced on our way home from the Arctic Ocean near Inuvik, Northwest Territories, several years ago. We had decided to spend a few days at a campground on a small lake in Nebraska. Kayaking in the lake one day, we saw a tree with dozens of black birds, wings outstretched in a drying position—a perfect picture for a Halloween poster. Before we could investigate, they flew away. (Question: What’s more eerie than an assembly of black birds in a tree? Answer: An assembly of those same black-winged creatures flying over your head.) We snapped some pictures for identification. Pulling up the pictures on our camera when we returned to our tent, we searched in a bird book and identified the birds as cormorants. Now, every time I see a cormorant, I fondly remember the campground in Nebraska and our Arctic Ocean trip. Years from now, what will spark cherished memories of this journey on the Wabash, Ohio, and Mississippi Rivers?
Just another day, another few miles, on the Wabash River. Rapids appearing and disappearing. Islands discovered. Definitions fabricated. Memories revisited and new ones made. All in a day on the river. All not seen from my land view. I’m thankful we left the bank and entered this adventure.
Here’s the Thing: When our trip was just a conversation, I had reservations about jumping off the bank. What will others think? How much will this adventure cost? What will I need to sacrifice? How much time will I have to give up? Are there dangers? I wanted to stay safely on the bank.
As I thought about the types of trips we had already taken, I realized the travels that interest me were unusual to the ordinary person. I consider myself ordinary—I climb out of bed, brush my teeth, exercise, eat breakfast, read my devotions, complete my household chores, eat lunch, work in my garden, take a shower, prepare and eat dinner, watch Dark Shadows (OK that’s not ordinary), and then climb back into bed. Maybe some would describe me as boring.
Thank goodness, I have John to help me discover ways to jump off the bank. John says, “If you don’t experience adventures for yourself, you don’t have anything to share with others.” I want to tell my family and friends about the exciting places I have traveled and voyages I have completed. I don’t want to remain a typical friend, mother, and grandmother. I want the people I touch to want to do the unexpected and know they too can accomplish the extraordinary. I want them to jump off their banks!
Jump off YOUR bank!
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Editor’s Note: This is one of a series of articles written by a group of retired and current teachers — LaNae Abnet, Ken Ballinger, Billy Kreigh, Kathy Schwartz, and Anna Spalding. Their intent is to spur discussions at the dinner table and elsewhere. You may also voice your thoughts and reactions via The News-Banner’s letters to editor.
