This river network runs the gamut of river types from very city to very rural and all in between. All the problems of all the river systems in the world can be found in this river. But one thing we can say is that the Illinois belongs entirely to the citizens of Illinois. No other state impacts its waters. This river is ours to care for or to forget. (picture)

For years it was forgotten. Some people even wrote it off as a lost cause to rehabilitate. I think that any river has the power to cleanse itself if humans would just leave alone. The Illinois is making a comeback. I have paddled it twice and can tell you that no river that is lost can support the bird life that the Illinois has on its shores.

The problems of rivers are still there. Paddle the river and you will see evidence of urban runoff, agricultural runoff and raw sewage. But the problems are not as great as they once were. The birds tell you that.(picture)

The Illinois is a wonderful natural place. The nature lover does not use it enough. Boaters use it but not too many slow boaters who stop and look. I took two visits to this slow moving September place and I recommend it to you. Here are my summaries of the days spent this Fall, 2002 on our great river, the Illinois.

Dr. Bob Williams (picture)

Edwardsville, IL

Rivers@siue.edu

http://www.siue.edu/OSME/river

Departed from Navy Pier early by dropping my Birthday Present, an Old Town Loon 160, into the water near the Water Taxi departure site. Paddling through the City is a surreal thing. The water of Lake Michigan carries you along the river and soon the Chicago River flows between walls of huge buildings. Along this stretch, all the buildings are labeled, as are the bridges. Bridges and buildings float silently by because on Saturday morning the City is quiet. Even on a Monday the river would be quieter than the streets above because one in a kayak is far below the noise that fills every city space. Today, few people are on the bridges or along the walkways.

At the beginning in the open area behind the rock walls that keep Lake Michigan out, the water is clear with a greenish tinge. Soon the City of Chicago takes charge of the water. The trip down the North Branch of the Chicago River is an olfactory adventure and continues that way until the area where the Calumet-Sag Channel enters. The worst area is the junction of the South Fork and South Branch but along the way one can catch whiffs and evidence of sewage. Either lots of people along the banks of the river are having sex; or the condom, panty liner, and tampon retrieval system is not good with the Chicago MWRD.

About Mile 321 the Chicago River becomes the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal, maybe the canal is just trying to keep good its given name. The river has ships but I can not be sure about sanitary. In any case, one paddles through miles of lined walls until the Canal joins the Des Plaines River. From about M 308 to 290, the canal walls are dug into natural limestone or lined with that wonderful natural material. I called this section the Wall because the river became a channel of water confined by a ten foot or higher wall. All is perfect for the barge but a little massive for my 16-foot long kayak.

Through this day one passes the industries that have made Chicago, the Master City of the Midwest. Today was Sat. so few towboats were moving with the only traffic an occasional pleasure boat roaring through. Any first traveler down this river will be surprised by the traffic of ocean-going boats making the "Circle Tour" around the Atlantic to and from Florida using the Mississippi River. Those big boats make big waves but always slowed down for this tiny kayak of mine.

Here along the Chicago would be the only other small boats I would see until the 17^th at Griggsville. A group of canoes from the Friends of the Chicago River fleet were out on a bridge, building, and architectural tour of the river. I said hello, asked them to give my regards to my friend, Chris Parson, who was, early in the summer, going to canoe with me for a couple of days. You know lots of people said that. I must be a terrible paddling partner? In any case, I was on my way in a few short minutes. Lots of river miles ahead at this point.

Just as the sun was going down, I finally found a place to put up my tent on the edge of one of the barge staging areas. It was clean and flat but the night was filled with the roar of tugboats and the clanking of barges being joined. This first day I did not stop and eat but grabbed snacks and kept paddling. Places to land are few and far between but most of all I wanted to leave the City behind.

Wildlife was to be found and I did observe people fishing. I saw a couple of the Great Blue Herons that I would enjoy in mass later down the river. But there were Little Blue Herons, Green Herons, Kingfishers to observe, plus the usual gulls. I did not see many crows anywhere on this two-week. In fact, I only saw one and this was much later in the trip. I am guessing that the crows ha fallen from the skies as part of the West Nile Virus epidemic.

Paddling this part of the river is a task because one cannot relax and enjoy the sights. The occasional boats cause wakes and the narrowness of the channel makes those a common event. Busy weekdays must be interesting. Also, there are few, if any, places to stop and pull out. So the first day is real work. Interesting but real work.

The sky was clear and the day would prove to be hot. Headed down stream at a good pace in the still water to Lockport Lock & Dam. This is the first and deepest of the seven Illinois & Des Plaines Rivers locks. The Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal joins and becomes the Des Plaines River at Mile 290 just below Lockport. I was just in time to enter the lock, all by my lonesome, and clung to a slender rope as the water let me gently down. Brandon Road Lock is just down stream a few miles but my luck was not so good there. I ended waiting almost 4 hours to get through.

Paddling this part of the river is made difficult by the locks. This is the only section where one might have that problem, although passing through those two plus Dresden Island in the same day is not impossible. Three locks in one day. NOT A FUN THOUGHT.

Any time you approach a lock, one might not be able to pass down because it may be closing just as you pull up. Like an elevator you rush to make the opening of the lock gates. You can call ahead but the boat going in might be a big one filling the entire lock and then you wait. Certain barges have priority too. And you are, to a certain degree, at the mercy of the lock operators because they really decide who goes and when, although the first come first served is usually the order.

At Brandon, I pulled the kayak out and took my lunch gear up to the shady area outside the Army Corps office and made lunch. The guys at the Lock were great but a barge filled with chemicals had the right-of-way and I would have to wait. I did the waiting and eventually logged through with a group of Circle route boats heading south. The people traveling on these boats were interested in my travels so I mooched a beer or two during the lock through discussion. People in these vessels seem to be well stocked. One asked me if I needed ice. I laughed and told him that I had long ago learned that scotch and water needed no ice.

Lunch each day was special and I always used the time needed for cooking to dry out from the night before and to rest. Each day I would eat a breakfast bar or so as I headed out. All the mornings but two were calm and the water invited hard paddling so I obliged. If the wind would come up, that would happen from 12 – 1 PM or later. So noon or just after was a perfect time to stop for the wind or the heat of the afternoon. I would drag out my Coleman one-burner and heat up a pot of water. Part of the water became coffee while the other was used for soup, rice or oatmeal. As those items were cooling, I would open a can of tuna, chicken or turkey or slice up some sausage. In a small frying pan, two or three eggs were scrambled with the meat to create my "riverside omelet". Dessert was a piece of candy or three. I cooked two dozen eggs during the trip. The river sand was used to clean the pots and pans and I ended the weeks with a well-conditioned frying pan.

The time spent in the Brandon Road Lock really put me behind. I paddled strongly until about 6:30 PM and was still a few of miles and a bit from my planned stopping place at Big Basin Marina, south of Joliet. The Sun had been out and in full strength with temperatures well over 95 degrees. Wow was I beat. Just as I was about to head for shore, a group of water boarders stopped their boat ahead of mine. They asked how I was doing and I decided to use the "old man in need of help" routine.

They were wonderful and hooked on to tow me the three miles into Big Basin. A lively young crowd of six city dwellers, they danced to the sounds of Frank Sinatra singing Chicago. Their boat, Urban Renegade, had made quite a few trips this summer to this Des Plaines River location for water sports because "it was not as filled with as many crazy boaters as Lake Michigan". Interesting. I camped on the berm of the Marina. The Big Basin has a great bar but they have stopped serving food. That was good for my diet but not so good for my planning.

I almost forgot to say that the only other place where I smelled raw sewage on my trip down the Rivers was in Joliet. The shoreline of the river passing through Joliet is as inhospitable as that of Chicago. Walls line the river all along the way and not many people can be seen playing or relating to the river. I wonder if there is a relationship between the people-use of the river and how the city government treats it. People who are down on the river will not tolerate their river being used as a latrine. Access to the river always means a cleaner river.

Packed my bags early this morning and headed out before the Marina awakened. At Mile 273 the Des Plaines and the Kankakee Rivers join to become the Illinois. It is an uneventful joining of waters. The Kankakee is much cleaner with no commercial traffic so its waters dilute the sewage-laced water of the Des Plaines/Chicago connection. Now one begins to see less city and more wildlife. The Illinois has promise for all its inhabitants if we can keep its head clean. A few miles down stream is the Dresden Island Lock and Dam which I hit just right and locked through in about an hour. Again, I locked through with some Circle Tour folks and was helped along with liquid refreshments.

Below Dresden Island is Morris, the first real river city that offers the small boater some accommodation. You will see more JetSki boats than anywhere else along the river. When four or five are going they can make the water do things to a canoe or kayak. They race around like whirligig beetles on the flat water with no apparent sense to their activity except the riders do everything at full speed.

I was to be joined here by my friend Dough Blodgett from Havana for the trip down the river. When I pulled into Morris, a boater came up to my kayak and told me that Doug was not far behind. I decided to use the time and called the Morris newspaper to see if they wanted an interview. They did and sent Mark down for information. At 4:15 we decided not to stay in Morris but push on down for a few more hours.

The banks of the river along this stretch are sandy so we found a spot and camped. Here we found the first real mass of our archenemy: the mosquito. More water, more wetlands, less people along the river, and more mosquitoes. With the scare about West Nile Virus, we took no chances. From that point on, I would set up the tent first thing upon landing before the mass of mosquitoes appeared. Then, I would set up the rest of the camp and prepare things for the morning. I would have in my tent everything for the evening. Once in, no going outside. Tough, if you drink too much!

Each night, as the sun would go down, I would do the mosquito patrol inside the tent with my trusty flashlight. The flashing light tracing patterns on the tent wall must have provided alien like patterns for those viewing my actions in the failing light. Several mornings came with slow flying, heavily laden mosquitoes making their way across my view. Those bloodsuckers can hide well or can sneak in with efficiency. And of course, every time I was up in the night, a couple managed to enter. None were allowed to leave the tent but now I will worry that the Virus is spreading within me.

My trip down last year was filled with partying people along the river. Many nights I was awakened or kept awake with party noise. Not one time this year was I awakened by revelry. A powerful force those mosquitoes are this year.

But at night all along the shores of the Illinois, I was rewarded by the sounds of many owls. Heard the great horned owl, the screech owl and one that makes a sound like –whooha. I wish that I knew more about birds because their sounds tell the knowledgeable person just who is lurking in the night.

A bit of a late start this AM. We took time for making hot water and had both coffee and oatmeal. Today was the only time that I took for this luxury. Marseilles Lock and Dam was the first obstacle. This is a weird lock in that the dam is located two miles above the lock. The two-mile chute was hewn from the native rock and runs parallel to the real river. The map shows rapids and I wished that my kayak would have had the chance to run them instead of waiting for the locks like a lumbering barge. We came up to this lock and checked in on the Marine Radio. All of the previous locks had allowed us to get out of the boat and wait for the time to go through the lock. These folks were absolute sure in not wanting us on shore. They were even nasty. We were low on drinking water and asked to refill our containers. NO water, get some at the marina below.

So with all the unkindness on the radio, we were invited to wait out the lock passage with three Circle Route boats. The people on these boats were great and gave us water and beer and we talked through the hour wait. I have already gotten an email from Rich and Roger and will keep in touch with them.

They commented on the rather rude behavior that they too had heard on the marine radio. They told us that the Illinois River lock tenders were among the most unaccommodating that they had met during their Circle Route travel. My experience with the Corps lock tenders has been great during both my trips down the river—except here at Marseilles Lock and that was true for both years.

Have any of you experienced what I think is a reaction to 9-11? I believe that some people find an excuse not to do things for people in the name of security. I think that the Marseilles Lock is an example of that and is not the case for the whole Illinois River Corps personnel.

We paddled right down the river to Ottawa and arrived with the rain. It rained on us lightly for almost 3 hours that day. I put on rain gear and enjoyed the rain. The wind that accompanied the moisture slowed us down a bit but we pushed on until arriving late at Starved Rock Marina. I quit for the night but Doug paddled on and locked through. I would not see him any more along the way.

Arriving at the Marina late, the owner of the marina bar stayed open to feed me. That effort was much appreciated. I had stopped there the year before and had known that paddling through the rain would be rewarded by a great burger and fries. The Bar Boss Lady made it and I ate it -- with relish and a couple of scotch and waters. A visiting couple bought these for me and listened to my paddling stories. They had passed us earlier in the day, up river, and were surprised that we had come this far. I can tell a good story at this time of night especially with a full stomach and a few drinks.

The river area from Ottawa down to Starved Rock shows many differences from the upper river. In this stretch, one can paddle through wide, almost lake like areas. Along the shores are two state Parks, Illini State Park and Starved Rock State Park. Both provide camping and boating facilities. From here on, you begin to notice the Herons and the Great Egrets in greater numbers and even more gulls.

Along the shore one can spot many areas where the alien invader, Phragmites, has taken over where the cattail once held supreme. Phragmites is a huge grass that was introduced from South America and has gone bananas. I keep wondering why the State of Illinois has done nothing to reduce this invader. All around Starved Rock one can see the Phragmites in complete dominance. Nothing native has learned to use its seeds or roots. From the looks of things, the native animals had better learn fast.

The Starved Rock Marina was just coming alive as I headed down to lock through the Starved Rock Lock and Dam. The lock was only a mile away from the Marina so the passage through occurred early. The cliffs and hills of this are so obvious. Knowing a little bit about the geology of Illinois tells one that the glaciers left the rock here and the Illinois River has worn a path through the rocks. The cliffs at Starved Rock are beautiful. To bad this narrowing of the river valley wasn’t accompanied by speeding up of the river flow. OH WELL! Keep on paddling.

This was also the day for arm and shoulder pain. The first days of rowing were being remembered in the persistent aches and pains of the upper torso. There was nothing to do but to carry on and work through the hurt. I would choose not to remember this day but what can one do when he has written things in the journal.

Carrying a cell phone is one of the characteristics of the modern explorer and this paddler is no exception. I stopped in Peru, just down stream from LaSalle and made a few calls. Roaming charges are another one of those kayaking expenses. Then the urge came upon me. My arms hurt. I had paddled for four and a half days and I felt yucky. As soon as the last of Peru’s buildings disappeared around the corner and a sandy beach appeared, I did it. I took a river bath. Just pulled out the soap and stripped and washed. No words can probably describe the picture of this gray-headed old boy perched on the river bank and covered with soap. Let your imagination go, but not too far. It surely made me feel better.

I arrived in Hennepin before dark and set up the tent before hiking up the hill to Ray’s Supper Club. Here at Ray’s is as good a sampling of almost home cooked food as exists along the river. Pauline Marchiari has been selling family style dinners here for many years and is a wonderful host.

Everyone should make a list of the things that one needs for a two-week trip on the river. I can tell you that now because I never made the list and did not take some things that were soon missed. The constant water and agitation are hard on the hands and skin and I did bring the lotion. But I did not bring a fingernail clipper and sure enough a long nail soon split. One of the problems of traveling along the Illinois is the business tends to have moved away from the river. No one commonly sells fingernail clippers or such notions within walking distance of the river and especially after 6 PM. After hearing me asking customers in Ray’s for their clippers, Pauline took pity on me and called a local distributor who had the necessary article. The next morning I would leave Hennepin clipped. Such a luxury!

As I walked down the steps to the picnic shelter, I noticed a fishing knife on the bottom rung. A couple of guys were fishing off the overlook. I asked if they had left it and struck up a discussion with the two, who were born and raised in Bosnia, and now called the Hennepin area home. As they left each gave me a cheerful good night and a warning about the mosquitoes. Their early departure is just another indication of the strength of those tiny insects. No problem! I had those buggers figured out. I slept the night on a cement floor under the picnic shelter overlooking the Illinois. No rain would bother me but the mosquitoes are alive and real in Hennepin.

Hennepin is where the Illinois stops flowing east and west and makes the great curve south. South to the Mississippi, the river flows and it changes. The land flattens until it arrives at the confluence of the Mississippi where the bluffs keep the river in its course. From Hennepin on, one runs into lots of lakes and wetlands. Swan Lake, Sawmill Lake, Billsbach Lake, and Goose Lake slowly slip by. I am never sure of the speed of the river; but by paddling continuously, I can run about 3.5 to 3.7 miles an hour. My estimation of the river’s speed in the main channel runs about two miles per hour and maybe less. Cutting across into the shallow areas means even less help from the river. A September river runs slow on the Illinois.

The first town that one finds after Hennepin is Lacon. I camped there last year and found wonderful facilities. This year I stopped for a sandwich at Mr. Mikes. The take-out café is located on the highway but is easily reached by stopping at the public Marina. Had great homemade barbecue.

Off and running on a full tummy, Chillicothe is the ending spot for the day. Babbs Lake and Douglas Lake soon slide by and I am ready to find a campsite. Chillicothe is a river town trying to reattach itself to its river past. It has a great public landing area. No bathrooms but there is Bananas, a warm and friendly river bar. I observed an area at the edge of the parking lot and below one of the houses on Pine Street. I walked up to see if I could get permission to camp. The owner is Bob Johnson. He is a retired highway patrol officer and one of the nicest guys in Chillicothe. His permission to set up camp made the rest of the night easy.

I set the tent up and hauled over to Bananas to rehydrate. When one has a good story, people help you with the process. A few beers and some story swapping and in walks GeorgeAnn. She is one of my Rivers Project teachers and teaches English at E. Peoria High School. George is a gem and brings a real banter to the stories of rivers and camping and friends. I had invited people to meet me on the trip and GeorgeAnn had come down. A bit later we would move for dinner to Hamm’s Marina which is located down the river.

Sue, GeorgeAnn’s fellow teacher would join us for a river feast. From the restaurant we would watch the sun go down on one of Illinois’ great collections of pelicans. I can still see them lined along the sandbar out in the Illinois, like all-white penguins in a row along the descending sun. Having such good friends to come and share an evening is a wonderful and warming thing.

I was up again with the Sun. Just as I was getting my tent down, Bob Johnson walked up to wish me a good morning. He walks in the AM and was up early. I am thankful for that because he made extra coffee this morning and I could start with a charge that I usually don’t have.

The paddle to Peoria is through even greater bodies of water than ever before. From Chillicothe to Peoria one crosses Upper Peoria Lake and Peoria Lake and they are wide. On a still day they are easy to cross but slow. My day was easy and slow. I wonder but am glad that I have never experienced either on a windy day. I am sure that I was a couple of miles out in the water during much of the crossing down to Peoria. The lights and signs that guide the traveler down the Illinois are much different for the miles above Peoria. The lights that are normally loaded on telephone pole like structures or even a dead tree are lighthouse-like structures on the Peoria Lakes.

My guide down the Chicago/Des Plaines/Illinois was a copy of the US Army Corps of Engineers official map called Illinois Waterway Navigation Charts. The yellow 1998 issue that has traveled twice down the Illinois is replaced by a 2002 addition that is available on the Corps web site for the Rock Island Section. My map is a treasure and probably the only one in existence that has paddled twice down the Illinois River. In fact its owner may have that claim too. This map was in front of me all the way and provided information so that I would know exactly where I was all the time. Not that location was so important, but at least I could shoot for spots in the otherwise boring paddling.

Another important fact for the paddler is the buoy color. Red is on the left going down stream and green on the right. These buoy mark the channel used by the larger craft. Going down the river, I would try to stay just outside the channel on either side. With this maneuver I could take advantage of the main flow of the river but be close to escaping from any big passing boat. Barges stayed in the channel so I could anticipate my passing them.

A barge heading upstream provided me with a real fast charge downstream. I stayed close to the buoys and cut right behind the tow thus catching its massive thrust to leap downstream for a few hundred yards. My excitement for the day! YES?

I should tell you that these huge Peoria Lakes are real fakes? In most areas of the lakes you can put your paddle down and hit the bottom. Big boats cannot use most of the water because of the shallowness. Silt, the burden of the Illinois, has made much of the river only a few feet deep and that is filling. The Corps had developed some plans to build islands from the dredge spoil that they will soon produce to deepen the lakes. Caterpillar has been working on the supposed magic dredge that will clean the lake and give back the water to the boaters of Peoria. Of course, we have been hearing that for ten year but hope blooms eternal.

With such a good day, I arrived in E. Peoria at a bit past noon. I found a camp spot and headed over to the Camp office of Carl Spindler Marina. This is a public marina with all the facilities. I checked in, paid for the camping and took a shower, the first since Big Basin. With time to kill, I should have taken a nap but didn’t. Instead I met Paul and we talked religion. Paul belongs to a special sect of apostolic Christians and will leave for Israel to volunteer with an archeological dig. After being alone for over a week, the deep philosophical discussion was invigorating. I envy Paul’s chance to explore the Holy Land and applaud his conviction.

Jeff and I took off at my usual departure. We left Lynnetta with the tents and the gear. No room in the kayak with two bodies paddling. I took the back during the first part of the trip down to the Peoria Lock and Dam. After that we switched and Jeff took the stern position. Such a change in responsibility! I had been making all the decisions and moving the rudder to make the boat move to the left or right. Now with Jeff taking that responsibility all I could do is paddle and give instructions. Poor Jeff? I tried? But if you know me then you will know that I have honed the skill of supervision to the highest degree. We did a great job and almost had my first 30-mile day. We would have done more had the lock moved us through a bit faster.

I cooked Jeff one of my river lunches, which he enjoyed immensely. He always eats well so the exercise made him even more ravenous. We ended the day at Copperas Creek Access Area where Lynnetta met us with the campsite already assembled. Such a luxury! Her exploration of the area had uncovered a local restaurant and that provided an excellent dinner. I did not get the name but it is not easily accessible to boaters. Driving down IL 24 near Banner will bring you to the spot.

It rained during the night but not enough to cause problems. More problems were caused when locals would drive through the access area and see our tents. They would stop a bit and squeal the tires in irritation and be gone. The Corps of Engineers has a dredge going just a few miles south and they used the access area to bring in workers. The Illinois DR had maintained this access pretty well. They had even brought in three port-a-potties. Too bad that the DR did not supply a nose plug dispenser or change the things a bit more often.

About 8:00 PM, a couple of locals came in to try out fishing for the local and huge catfish. They hit the river bank running and Jeff soon joined them. An hour later they all hit the parking lot running. The mosquitoes won. Jeff reported one juvenile catfish that he returned to the river.

The rain came in the late morning and awakened us early. Who wants to go paddling in the rain anyway? We slept in. Lynnetta was going to make the 17-mile paddle down to Havana but the night before had ruined a tire. She decided to not paddle and her back hurt too much for her to spend hours sitting in a kayak. I left late, after eight and headed south alone. Jeff and Lynnetta headed back to Edwardsville. The rain lasted for a couple of hours and then quit. I put on the rain gear and kept on paddling.

Arrived in Havana just after 1:00 PM. Made dinner on the river front but like most river towns along the Illinois the access for facilities is not easy. I thought about Doug but could not easily find a phone. I am a bit paranoid about my belongings in the kayak. Not because I cannot afford to loose them, but because I could not continue without them. I always have this image of some goofy guy thinking it would be funny to send my kayak down the river unattended. I carried a waterproof box with all my valuables so when I left the river, I would take the box with me. But still the Illinois River boat ramps do not provide security for the lone boater. Doug, I thought about you in Havana but continued on down the river. At this time, I thought that you were ahead of me.

When I pulled into the Anderson Lake Access Area for the evening, a couple of boats were just loading up and cleaning up their gear after a day on the river. Jim is from over in Petersburg and often visits this area along the river. He had cooked earlier and had a deer burger left. It was offered and I gratefully accepted the sandwich. We talked for some time and they soon left me to the wind, the river and the mosquitoes.

I put my tent up on the sand and was soon resting for the night. A good day! The funny story that they told about me, as they were just about to depart added a bit of humor to the day. As I came into sight of the landing a couple of small planes had come down the river flying rather low. After passing over me, they circled and came back up the river and then flew on east. Then I landed at the access area. One of the ladies said that she was sure that I was an escapee from Menard and that the planes were law enforcement looking for me. I think they still thought that because I noticed them taking a picture of me before they left. Must not have been escaped prisoners on the loose?

Left Anderson Lake early and headed south in full fog. Not a vehicle but only me was moving and the fog did not lift until after 9:30 AM. It is weird to paddle and the fog really does cause one to loose their bearings. I would try to stay within sight of one bank or another. Reading the map helped to anticipate where the river would meander. Shortly after departure I would pass the 2/3 way down the river. Only a third of 327.5 miles to go. Passed the Rivers Edge at Browning. I spent my birthday there last year and had some good flashback memories. Arrived in Beardstown and stopped along the river to make lunch. Just paddled on through. Beardstown has taken the trouble to develop a wall dike around the city. It sets there like a medieval fort looking over the river. One cannot see if people are there because the wall is so large and screens out activity from the river.

One of the real events of my whole trip happened today just a couple of miles above my LaGrange take out. I was paddling along feeling rather good about my good day on the river. Everything was going so smoothly and progressing so well. An overwhelming feeling of satisfaction filled me. I was going to do this trip without much of a problem. Maybe I was being a little vain. Just a little. All of a sudden a stream of Monarch Butterflies came across the river in front of my kayak. One dipped down and took a drink from the river. A humbling time for me occurred right then because I knew that those tiny floating bits of life were heading for Mexico. My 300 plus miles was not really much. Mother Nature has a way of telling each of us that we are just a speck in the makeup of this wonderful world.

The next stop, and the final one for the day, was LaGrange Lock. This is the last lock on the Illinois. I locked through and decided that the rocky landing below the river would be good enough to spend the night. Lucky for me that the lock was rather quiet that night. I set up the tent, finished putting everything inside, and crawled inside myself.

I had faced the doorway upstream so that I could see the lock. When I looked out, a huge male red fox came walking through the willows and up the river shore. I was a bit startled and instead of being quiet said to the fox, "Hello, big boy. What are you up too?" He was about as startled as I and took off, gandy-legged, back into the willows without a sound. No picture but he was red. When the night settled in, I called Jeff and was so sure that I was going to be home early that I told him to plan to pick me up on Thursday instead of Friday. Wow! Was I a paddling fool?

Up and out early and came down a couple of miles to find another huge US Corps of Engineers dredge was doing its thing. The contraption, which is made up of a dredge and a set of pipes leading out to shore, was spouting a huge volume of brown water onto the shoreline. As I came closer, activity ceased and the water stopped. I paddled by and moved down stream and towards shore, then everything started again. I presume that they did not want to suck a little green kayak into the dredge. The dredge bit that chews up the bottom of the river is a weird affair that looks like it came from a science fiction movie. The Illinois has a major problem with sediment and I was under the impression that dredging was a pretty common event.

The next town was Meredosia. I stopped here for water because I was running low. Not too much civilization from here to Kampsville and that was about 35 miles. I was going to call Dora Dawson who is President of the Friends of the Illinois River but never brought her phone number. I could not find a phone at the boat access area so I loaded up with water and hit out for the south.

After Meredosia, comes the little town of Naples. Last year, I camped here and met the Mayor on his nightly walk. Another fond memory! Just south of Naples, I came around the turn of the river and noticed a couple of vans and a collection of canoes and kayaks assembled on shore. I cut across the river to visit with them. Not too many people paddle on the Illinois so one has to be curious. This group proved to be students taking a class on the Illinois River at Illinois College out of Jacksonville. They had gathered here at the Griggsville Boat Launch to begin their trip down the river to Florence. I joined them or they joined me. I was in a moving mood and headed out in my best "This old boy will show you mode" and soon outdistanced everyone but Joe Ransom. Joe is Army Reserve and in good shape. He and I paddled and talked for the five miles down to Florence. Deborah Beal and Kent Elwood were the instructors for the Illinois College course. They invited me to stay for dinner in Florence.

I decided to push off and try to make my 30 miles. I will touch base with them again. They have a good feel for this part of the river. Deb told me to look for an Eagle nesting just below Florence. I never saw it but did see two bald eagles as I canoed and was told of that and another nesting at other spots on the River. Finding nesting eagles tells a great story of a recovering Illinois River. I stopped right at mile 50 at Glasgow Landing and made camp. It rained off and on from just south of Florence until I arrived at the campsite but I did 30 miles again. The camping site was wet but I was snug in my sleeping bag and good tent. It’s a L. L. Bean purchased on sale in Maine.

Happy 62^nd birthday! The day started with a slight wind but I got off early again. It took all morning, until noon to go ten miles. Then the wind really started to blow with gusts up to 20 mph. I pulled over a couple of times and one time for an hour and a half. Took a long lunch break with the wind so strong that my coffeepot was blown out. Not a fun birthday for paddling. The day ended with me making only 15 miles. That was half the mileage that I had been making the last three days. Of course that tricky river day ended with calm water from 6:30 PM until dark.

I could have gone on into Kampsville but after listening to my Hummingbird marine radio decided to find a sheltered spot. The US Weather Service report was calling for the possibility of a severe storm in the area and I wanted cover over my tent. I found a summer home among a group of 4-5 that had a cement floor. Just after I landed a couple of fisherman in a john-boat saw me on shore and volunteered to tow me down to Kampsville. I looked at the house on stilts and thought about the open camping facility and shower at Kampsville. It has a nice camping facility but a heavy structure over me was more valuable.

Declining the offer was easy. I moved the lawn furniture over and threw up the tent. Not a soul visited the area. The owner of the house left electricity on and I plugged in the cell phone. I wanted a charged battery if the rain was going to get me. Here I was 36 miles from Grafton and a couple hours from my bed at home. In two more days I would be there. A birthday to remember and just another day on the river.

Left my campsite under the house a bit before 6:30 AM and paddled down to Kampsville. Stopped at the Kampsville Ferry maintenance building and asked for some water. Also bummed a cup of coffee. While in the office, I used the phone book and looked up Sue and Larry Underwood. Larry had helped write the Rivers Project Geography Unit and Sue had taken a couple of classes with me over the years. They are dear friends. I wanted to see if they could have dinner in Hardin when I paddled through. Sue was off gadding about but Larry would come over.

From Kampsville to Hardin everything was uneventful except for the rain that fell most of the way. Eleven miles in the rain is not too bad when the rain is warm and the wind is not too bad. I made it to the Barefoot Bar in Hardin and pulled up to their dock. Inside, I called Larry and he ran down. We ended up talking for almost two hours. I was not going to go farther than about mile 14 today so I could take my time on the last day. Besides Jeff could not come pick me up until after 3:30 PM because he worked. A few hours after two weeks are not a problem. I had buffalo fish fritters and French-fries with lots of onions. I will get even with all those fish that jumped around the boat during my passing down river. The Barefoot Bar is one of those special river eating places of the Lower Illinois.

I got the grandson of the owner of the Barefoot to come down to the dock and take a few pictures and then I headed south. I figured then that I had about 6 miles to go before looking for a camp. While listening again to the weather forecast, I picked up predictions of another bad storm. OK! Last night missed me but it had rained off and on the whole day. One time I had to pull over and wait for 30 minutes for the squall to pass. Even the john-boats were running carefully. Rounding the corner of the river at mile 15 one finds a nice collection of summer river houses on high stilts. AH, YES.

Another port in the storm! I pulled in and looked to see if anyone was around.

The first house had a car. I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. Maggie, with suspicion in her eyes came to the door. Why would anyone look at me that way? I had not had a shower for six days. My hair must have been really ratty. I was barefooted. No car had driven up. No wonder she looked a bit distraught. Just about that time a car drove up and took Maggie off the hook. It was her husband Gary coming from his car lot in Fieldon. Gary Laird and I swapped yarns and he believed my story about being Dr. Bob and paddling the river. How else could I have gotten there. He allowed me to set up the tent under his house and gave me a hot plate of an Italian dish he had learned to make in Florida called Bogatini. Great way to end the evening. I caught up on my diary and the day ended without rain. River people are wonderful people.

My last day out! Just a bit under 15 miles to go. I waited until almost 8:30 AM because the day started with wind and a bit of rain. With so few miles to go, I could afford the time. Gary, again being the consummate host, brought down coffee and from the porch wished me a good voyage. The good paddling did not last very long as the rain came back. The rain would stay with me until I reached Pere Marquette State Park about half way to Grafton.

I pulled up to the marina there and called Pat, my secretary at SIUE. I asked her for the phone number for the St. Louis Post Dispatch and the Alton Telegraph. Then I called both. Wow, is dealing with a newspaper reporter an experience. Luckily, Dan the news editor at the Alton Telegraph had done stories on some of my previous activities at SIUE and remembered me. He thought that he would be able to get a reporter up to Grafton from Alton. I then called the Post Dispatch. They would not talk to me because I could not leave a phone number. I told them that I had a cell phone but after the three calls the message was reporting a low battery. I told the Post Dispatch that but he could not come up unless I could be reached by phone. I told him the details but he was skeptical. What does one say to a city reporter about a cell phone not being able to be plugged into a kayak port? Might I add that I have not seen a reporter from the Post Dispatch?

So I paddled down to Grafton. Right up to the Loading Dock at mile 00. I arrived at 1:42 PM. I pulled the kayak up on the shore and walked in to the Loading Dock. A few stares but only because there were few people. The bartender, in finding out my adventure, bought me a beer. I ordered a plate of fish for lunch and prepared to wait for my son to take me home.

John, the Alton Telegraph photographer, came and took some pictures of me in the boat. Laura, the very young reporter, came and took lots of notes. I took her out to look at my boat. I wish that I had taken the boat out into the middle of the River for her to see how small a vessel this really is. I gave her a hug for coming out and went back to chat with some of the seniors visiting the bar. I had a few good stories to tell.

Jeff arrived at 5 PM. We loaded the kayak. Jeff drove and we talked. He would never admit to worrying about me but he was glad that I was home. I called everyone to tell them that the old fart was home and successful. End of trip. A bed is a nice thing.