     Chapter 1
Decisions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
     Chapter 2
Nearly Derailed . . . . . . . . . . . . .7

     Chapter 3
Complications . . . . . . . . . . . . .10

    Chapter 4
Itasca to Iowa Vignettes,
     Map One . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
     Send Offs 18

     Stumpage's Killing Fields 35
     Cass' Loons 42
     Death Eluded 52
     Hanging Dog 64
     What Blondie Forgot 74
     Skeeter's Home 83
     Fresh Rolls 88
     The Dairy Queen 94
     Camp Ripley's Safe 97
     A Storm Hits 103
     A Herd of Turtles 107
     Home 110
     Evading Death 111
     The Miss Takes a Bath 121
     Mississippi's MtRanges 127
     Chapter 5
Iowa to Cairo Vignettes,
     Map Two . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
     Dancing Carp 135
     Bottle Man 145
     A Bad Dream 151
     Mike and Dee 157
     Mad River James 163
     Rumbling Trains 175
     The Big Solo 179
     Mark Twain 185
     Coiled to Strike 190
     Grandma & Billy 195
     Cape Girardeau 203
     Outa Shape 210
     Chapter 6
Cairo to New Orleans
     Vignettes,
     Map Three . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216
     Cats for Sale 217
     Meth Labs 223
     Rite of Passage 228
     Rain Forest Rick 230
     Over the Edge 242
     $356 an Ounce 254
     The Cove 260
     A Game of Chicken 264
     The Alexander 270
     9/11 Terrorists 279
Postscript . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285
Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287

Speaking

Preview

Chapter 1

Decisions

"Wanna run it? It's got some rapids."

Nodding agreement, Darrin instinctively digs his paddle deep on the right. Quickly and silently our canoe responds, turning toward an opening in the wing dam, a dark-water "V" some forty feet off the left bank.

Within moments the strong current grabs and pulls the canoe into more turbulence than expected. Over the water's roar I shout, "This has gotta be our last. They're getting too unpredictable."

With ambivalent agreement, Darrin nods languidly. The heat has slowed not only our energy output but also our thinking. Perhaps exhilaration from a swift current will arouse us.

The Mississippi has been broad and lazy this afternoon, wallowing in ninety-some degree heat and humidity. Riding her shipping lane forces an extra half mile paddle at each bend. The wing dams are shortcuts. Made of quarried rocks, eight to ten inches in diameter, they hold a multitude of razor-sharp edges. Hitting them with a Kevlar canoe would be disastrous. As it is still early summer, water spills over most of these manmade diversions.

"Let's move left where there's a heavier flow!" I want the current hitting against the left bank before we push downriver. As we enter the "V," I see the water rushing over the dam, redirecting waters coming off the left bank. We should get a fantastic ride.

The thrust in the narrow gap is exhilarating, both pushing and pulling us toward a calm spot. This particular one is higher and larger than any we have yet encountered. Calm spots have the look and feel of those 1940s drinking fountains called "water-bubblers." .

At a wing dam, however, the water-bubbler effect is a little different. Water rushing down the front of the dam hits the river bottom with such force it wells back up, boiling over at the river's surface. It is this boiling up-and-over that causes a seemingly placid, circular area. Normally these calm spots rise one to two inches above the surrounding waters.

Earlier a bubble burst just as we were leaving it. We now paddle a bit faster when moving over them. Once the canoe hits the bubble's center, there will be an extra outward push, a real rush. Our speed quickly propels us up and onto this bubble. The rise and speed is twice as high and fast as any we have yet experienced. Something new is happening-the bubble is moving left and taking us with it. My old body tingles with excitement. Today has been tedious.

Oomph!

The bubble has burst! The calm spot has changed. For a moment we hang in mid-air, but only for a second. Dropping hard, we are immediately sucked into a vortex.

"Oh, my God," I pray silently, "save us." The smooth bubble is now a whirlpool. In one fell swoop the entire canoe has dropped two feet into a swirling mass. It has taken less than a split second. We are listing toward the whirlpool's four-foot open eye; so close I can see into its bottomless and foreboding pit. The pull on the canoe is relentless. The bow is bending downward while the rest lies flat in the whirlpool. How much stress can it take?

The sucking power is tilting us. The whirling mass is pulling the canoe inward. My pounding heart feels like it is in a vice-grip. At over forty feet in diameter, the maelstrom dwarfs us. The canoe is half its size. We are descending, out of control, out of hope…fear has silenced us.