As Good As It Gets

As a new phenomenon, Ultra-marathon canoe racing has established itself here in the mid-west. Ok, it’s not a new thing, after all they’ve been doing it in Texas for more than forty years. But for us here, thanks to the Rivermiles team, it has taken hold over the last five years and seems to be gaining strength each year.

From the first MR340 in 2006, a race with fifteen entries, to the past couple of year’s races with hundreds of entrants this thing just keeps growing.

It’s not an event that is easy to watch as the ‘action’ is mostly on desolate sections of the river far from ramps or bridges or parks.

The friends and families of the participants see their racers dragging in after a hundred or two hundred or three hundred miles of competition and see the toll the effort is taking on their heroes. But if you aren’t out on the water”in over your head” so to speak, it’s impossible to understand what these competitors are actually enduring. Only the racers themselves and the race staff are privileged to have a front row seat to this event. Only these people really gain an understanding of what is being endured and what qualities are being developed and displayed by the entrants.

To paddle for forty or fifty or eighty hours is an astounding accomplishment regardless of where the racer places. To team up with another person or persons and maintain a working relationship throughout the race takes a level of respect for your teammate seldom seen in the every day world.

I am not privileged to call myself a military veteran. I have not “been there and done that”. And so I cannot say with authority that the dependence of these teammates on one another is like the military brotherhood of arms. But as a past racer and observer I can think of nothing else with the exception of military service that might tax the character and strength of the individual or team more than this type of racing.

It is not a particular type of person who enters this race. Some are athletes and competitors of the highest order. Some are adventurers. And some are simply curious, about the river or the race or themselves. The paddlers may come from Texas, expecting to escape the blazing heat of a southwest summer only to find themselves broiling in a boat in 95 degree heat with no shade for hours. Others may come from the frozen north possibly hoping to enjoy balmy breezes down a nice warm river. And then shiver through cold wet nights and battering headwinds and blinding fog.

But what is it like? For the man or woman on the water, there are as many different experiences as there are moments in the race. Only a few get the adrenaline rush of bouncing off a buoy, or bridge, or boat or barge. A few will dump and a few will suffer the indignation of assaults from flying carp. Everyone will get hot and cold and wet and chafed.

Picture yourself in the cockpit of a kayak, your legs are cramping and you’ve no room to flex, you are puking over the side. Well, mostly over the side. Your stomach is tied in a knot just like the one you felt when the Principal picked up his paddle (Ok, maybe you aren’t that old). You know you’re dehydrated and light headed but you don’t care. And you are aching in thousands of muscles. The experts say there are only about 640 muscles in your body, but right now you know they lie. The makeshift band aids won’t stay put on the blisters on your hands and your forearms are swollen and your butt feels like it’s been rammed by a freight train.

You see a bank marker that says the next ramp and therefore the next relief is 25 miles away. You can be there in ten hours if you just let the river carry you or you can dig in and be there in four if you ignore the pain. You have to force yourself to take a drink of water; you pick up the paddle and go back to work. That’s when you realize you have to pee.

An hour later you are puking over the side again, well some of it went over the side. You already understand that your nose has been burned out by the aroma of the bilge water and will never work again. You are maddeningly hungry and deathly sick at the thought of eating, all at the same time.

You do the math again, with luck in twenty or maybe thirty hours it’ll all be done. Then you’ll be able to throw this stupid boat on the bonfire at the finish line.

You’ve sacrificed your vacation and paid good money to experience this pain. You’ve worried about your family, your support team, running the Missouri back roads in the dead of night. And they have worried about you too, but you’ve been to tired to notice. You know that only a madman would allow all this to happen….. and then somewhere in the darkness, alone on the water, you realize you don’t want to be anywhere else. Maybe, you conclude, that only a madman would pass up the opportunity to attempt this race.

A hundred miles to go and you already know there will be no way to describe this whole experience to your co-workers when you return to the office. They’ll assume you have sunstroke or hypothermia or bugs in your ears (yes, that one maybe true) or all of the above. And you’ll know they can never comprehend this race, no matter how eloquent you are, unless they take up the paddle themselves.

Actually, not everyone gets sick or falls on the rocks or drops a boat on their ribs or splits their head open on a concrete table or sees the underside of a barge but all have happened. And more. And each year we seem to find new ways to muddy the waters.

So if you seek a real adventure here in the mid-west this just may be as good as it gets.

Winners at both Ends

The Week that is the MR340 is one of the highlights of my year and after its conclusion I always feel as though I'm drifting, a little lost and rudderless, so to speak. I'm drawn back to the rivermiles forum over and over to try to reconnect with the race but afterwards it is different.
The stories are great, the praise for the staff and volunteers, heartwarming, but the anticipation is gone. Replaced by pride in a job well done from some of the paddlers. Anquish from others and a pervading sense of an adventure completed by most.
As in years before the athletes were finishing in the 30's and 40's and 50 hour time frames. That is a good and wonderful thing, it keeps the back of the pack from becoming too congested. For there, you see, is were I've always found my comfort zone.
I've always contended that anyone can paddle for forty or fifty hours but it takes some special kind of grit to keep hammering for seventy or eighty hours. Just the logistics of keeping a man alive and working after eighty hours of grinding down the river places these teams at the back of the pack in a class of their own.
No they aren't the fastest, they don't set the records or take home the trophies. But they are the grinders who grab a couple of hours sleep and then roll back into the boat still wet from the last run. Only now they are also cold and stiff from lack of exertion. With stomachs sour from 3 days and nights of odd hours and odd food. With arms and backs and butts in pain. And they do it over and over again.
With minds fogged and sight blurry and blistered hands these people have all the marks and scars of champions except one....Speed.
If I were looking for traits to pass on to the next generation I might choose tenacity, attitude and perseverance over speed. I might choose compassion and congeniality over competitiveness.
Now don't get me wrong I would never suggest that these traits aren't exhibited by the winners as well, in fact they are and in spades. That is one of the things that has come to mark the MR340 as the spectacular venue it is.
But this is very important, I must impress on the "Back of the pack gang" that they are recognized as champions as well. Not speedy champions maybe, but champions none the less.

2010 MR340 Canoe and Kayak Race

I have just returned from a week on the river participating in one of the greatest adventures that it has been my pleasure to enjoy.
The 5th annual MR340(http://www.rivermiles.com/) has finally come and gone and again the great stories abound. I saw disasters and triumps and victories and defeats. I witnessed people reaching into the depths of their souls and pulling out strengths they never knew existed and may never have discovered had they not had the courage to enter this race.
Sadly I also saw people defeated, sometimes by the river itself and sometimes by poor planning or lack of experience or countless other reasons.
Actually, there were exactly as many reasons to quit as there were boats that did not finish. No two stories are the same, but even those who didn't finish displayed the courage to make the attempt. And if everyone could pull it off, it wouldn't be the magnificent event that it is.
Many of those who failed will return with knowledge gained and they will succeed next time. Many who barely finished will modify their training and preparation, or change their equipment, or maybe just their attitude and they will compete at a higher level next time.
All the entrants and their teams will have memories to relive and stories to tell. And some very lucky people like myself will have many tales to share. It will take a little time for me to organize my thoughts and present them in a manner befitting the efforts I witnessed. Heroic or triumphant moments, Pain and suffering, crushed goals and crushed boats, comraderie and competition, these were flourishing on all fronts. I saw friendships established, and simple acts of kindness to strangers were abundant.
All these things happen on a daily basis in the natural world but in the condenced time frame of an 88 hour endurance race events happen so quickly and in such rapid succession that it presents a verson of life that comes at the observer compressed and so intense that only by thinking it through afterwards can one sort out the golden moments.
That is what I'll be doing for a while, sorting and recording those moments. A few I will share if I can figure a way to do justice to the efforts of these paddlers. Though I fear I may not be eloquent enough to display their talents and their character in the fashion they deserve.
I have entered this race in the past as a paddler. I have finished and I have failed, I have never won or come close but I have never walked away a poorer man. Tired, sore, dazed and daffy, but never with less than when I began.
This year I was offered the opportunity to man one of the safety boats (maybe they thought that anyone who had gotten himself into as many difficulties as I would be a natural at this) and I take great pride in the fact that I ran over not a single contestant. And I'm certain that with proper therapy many of the paddlers will get over their newfound fear of bearded bald guys driving fast boats.
This position gave me the chance to interact with many more people and witness the race from new perspectives and I hope I will use that wider vision to advantage. So, as I say, give me a short time to organize myself and I will offer a view that few have seen, a canoe race from the seat of a power boat.

The Real First Dragon Boat

After only a few years the MR340 race has developed into both a traditional competition and hotbed for less than traditional approaches. Canoes verses kayaks, young verses old and carbon fiber verses recycled barrels have all contended. And as often as not the results are different than one would expect.
And so it has become a pageant of firsts.
This year we'll see a dragon boat competing for the first time. A forty foot behemoth of a canoe with a crew of twenty or so paddlers. And if one were to look at a cross section of previous competitors and put together an all star team, then it might look just like this dragon boat crew.
If they are successful, we will see the longest competitive run by far of a boat of this type. And to the best of my knowledge it will be the first time a dragon boat has raced on the Missouri river.
But it will not be the first dragon boat on the river.
In 1819, you see, a sternwheeler named the Western Engineer was built in Pittsburg, PA and brought to Missouri as part of a military expedition under the command of Major Stephen Long. As a military vessel the pilot house was built to be bullit proof and the paddle wheel was enclosed.
In an attempt to intimidate the native Indian population, a large serpent or dragon's head was built on the bow of the ship. The smoke from the firebox as well as steam from the boiler and engine exhaust were routed through the mouth and nostrils of this head. At 75 feet long and 50 tons displacement and with steam and glowing cinders exhaled from the beast's head it was thought the boat would strike terror in the Indians and command their respect.
It seems that most whites who witnessed the vessel simply thought it odd. As for the indians, it did apparently arouse their interest, and though they found it curious, they seem to have just chalked it up to more of the white man's unussual ways. Nowhere in the records of the expedition does it mention any fear occasioned by the dragon boat.
The Western Engineer did successfully ascend the river all the way to the site of today's Council Bluffs, Iowa, however its boiler became clogged and required cleaning so often that it made little better time than Lewis and Clark's previous ascent in manually powered vessels.
So, even though the dragon boat in this year's MR340 won't be the first the Missouri river has ever seen, it may still turn out to be the fastest.

To Race, To Dream, To Bloop?

Most folks who read this blog are familiar with the MR340 canoe and kayak race from Kansas City to St. Charles. This race has become a consuming force in the lives of many people and I must confess I am one of those people. Of course I know there are things in life that are more important. But thankfully, I've learned to ignore most of them.
I am one who thinks about the 340 all the time. It matters not if I'm addressing a stranger, an old friend or a co-worker, I've soon worked the conversation around to the race.
I even dream of it and one disturbing dream of one particular moment seems to reoccur more often than most.
Its not the time when I first find myself paddling in darkness on one of the world's greatest rivers. Nor is it the moment when I find myself on a collision course with a barge, knowing the other vessel has me outweighed by about a million times to the tenth power. That one doesn't bother me at all. Its not the embarrassing dream of emptying my water jug and dieing of thirst in the middle of the river or getting knocked cold by flying carp just yards from the finish line.
No the one that forces me awake in a cold sweat is the dream about a moment shortly before the race begins.
Hundreds of paddlers are present some already on the water and some still preparing their boats, arranging and trimming and launching. A thousand spectators line the banks and reporters are grabbing last minute quotes from those racers willing to talk. Helicoptors circle above and I'm sure NASA has at least one satelite zeroed in on the starting line. The Naval Atache' from the Swiss Consulate is chatting with a competitor to my right about amphibious tactics and I and my boat are ready to go.
Then it happens. I step into the boat and for the first time in forty years perform a wet entry. My boat shoots from beneath me and as I somersault into the river the last thing I see before submerging, head down and feet in the air, into the river are a thousand flashes from a thousand cameras all pointed right at me.
Sure every one has flipped a boat on entry at least once in his life. I'm sure it has happened to me sometime in the past but its been so long ago that I don't remember (I'm pretty good at forgetting that type of memory anyway).
Anyway, in my dream, the thousand souls that were so preoccupied an instant before all seem to turn in unison to catch my theatrics. I have visions of Scout Masters teaching canoeing all across the country and using photos of me as the example not to follow. I get calls from insurance companies wanting me to perform in a caveman suit. National Geographic finally prints a Greatest Bloopers in History edition and I make the cover.
My spraddled form makes the headlines across the country and youtube runs a contest just to choose the best video of my blunder.
Yes, that friends is the dream I awaken to at least once a week. It isn't paddling 340 miles that takes courage. It isn't sweating in the midwestern heat and humidity for days. Its not the ability to handle cramps and blisters and pain. Those aren't the things that make a racer who he is. Its the ability to face the nightmares and fears and be still goofy enough to just go out and step into that boat anyway. That is what makes a 340 racer what he is.

Pick up the Ball and Run

Missouri's problems are no different today than those of any other state. A shrinking budget has hampered the efforts of the various agencies to do their jobs and in many instances has forced them to cutback. This doesn't mean the work doesn't need to be done, just that it falls on someone else to pick up the ball and run with it.
What this means is like if we were all members of a basketball team and the stars have suffered a series of injuries. Now its time for you and I to get off the bench and score for the home team.
The Missouri Coalition for the Evironment has just this past week filed a lawsuit against the EPA to force them to take over responsibilities for monitering water quality in many streams in the state. This would normally be done by the Missouri Department of Natural Resources if they had the ability, however they don't presently have the manpower or the facilities available because they don't have the money. And knowing enough about both the government and our legal system I believe that the Coalitions law suit, though maybe a step in the right direction, is simply an exercise in futility. During the time this suit is slugging it's way through the system nothing constructive is getting done. Just the thought of trying to force the EPA's beauracracy to move brings a knot to my stomach.
We should not let this time be lost. The fight for evironmental improvement is like a tug of war match. If you ain't pulling on the rope all the time then you're headed for the mud pit buddy.
We as private citizens simply have to take over where the government is stalling. And fortunately we have groups that can coach us in just what to do and how to do it. Check out the home page of the Coalition for the Environment these are good people. Donate to Missouri River Relief whose link is listed on this site. But another way is to go to the Missouri Dept. of Conservation site: http://mostreamteam.org/ . Here you can find out how to help in many different ways.
Maybe you are unable to lug a trash bag through the mud, or don't have the money to donate to one of the environmental groups. That doesn't mean you are helpless. Can you take a water sample? Can you help spread the word about the needs of our watersheds? Can you simply, with their help, educate yourself. So that when you are sitting in the coffee shop talking to your friends, you can offer encouragement and enlightened conversation to others.
Getting the word out about our environmental needs is as important as stuffing trash in a bag. Learning what we as individuals can do is far more constructive than sitting back and waiting for the EPA or the DNR or any of the other big players to recover and renew their efforts.
Please take a moment and find out in what ways you are suited to help. Everyone has different abilities but the job at hand is so large that we need you all.
Thank you,
Walt

The River of the Future

Recreational paddling is gaining popularity on the Missouri River as witnessed by races like the MR340, the Race for the River and this year's addition, the Race to the Dome. Each of these races generates more weekend paddlers as entrants spend extra time on the water in preparation for the chosen events. There are those out there who are opposed to recreational paddling on the river at all but that's another story. Even in a high water year like this the numbers are growing and I would wager given a dry year with a tamer current, more managable ramps and exposed sand bars the numbers will explode.
So here is my question. What ideas are floating around out there to make the river experience a more paddler freindly environment?
Many of the river towns have great parks and decent facilities right on the river bank, but some notable exceptions still exist . Boat ramps are available all across the state but many are a real handful to use. Some of them enter the current at a right angle and landing a lightweight craft broadside to the current can be a real trick. Even trying to pull a powerboat back on its trailer can cause serious damage to expensive equipment. And yes, you can make the point that inexperience is a contributing factor, but the fact remains that better designed facilities would enhance both the enjoyment and the safety of the boaters experience.
As recreational use rises the numbers of inexperienced users will rise also. And to be blunt these novices pay the same taxes and deserve the same consideration and access as those of us who have used the river for years and gotten used to its whims.
Camping is excellent at some access sites but quite primitive at others and though I applaud the efforts of both the DNR and the Dept. of Conservation I do think some upgrades are in order.
I understand that in todays economic climate the hands of these agencies are somewhat tied. But I also realize that even in good times one must begin asking the government for help years before it arrives. So if we begin talking and planning now, maybe we can see results as soon as the economic pressures ease.
So since what I am proposing is at present only a wish list here goes.
I would like to see few actual harbors constructed for private boaters. Say one every eighty miles or so all across the state. The Corps of Engineers has the expertise and the ability to do this and I doubt it would cost as much as one first thinks. As an example, the Noren ramp at Jefferson City is a nice but under utilized place. It is located on the inside of a bend and therefore somewhat sheltered from the worst of the rivers exesses (i.e. raging currents at flood stage, ice, etc.) Simply raising the dike upstream from this ramp and extending it back overland to the levee and straight downstream to offer protection from the worst of the current would creat a useable, sheltered harbor where a dock could be constructed. With the prefab boat docks available today one could be installed in the spring and removed before the ice comes down every winter.
Sure this may sound extravagant but it would increase the use of the river and generate more tax dollars. It would put more people on the water and raise that bar of awareness that is required to help improve the health of the waterway.
A harbor facility like this at intervals up and down the river would give paddlers a day to leave one and arrive at another or make for an easy afternoon run between ports for a powerboat and offer something other than a boulder covered bank to tie up to. Any areas that really take off could eventually be developed into full fledged marinas.
So give it some thought and post your ideas, and remember, this is only a wish list right now so no idea is too big or too small for inclusion. And nearly all ideas that would help the paddling public would also complement the needs of the power boaters among us.
Help me show what the river experience could look like in the future.

Thanks, Walt

Infrequently Asked Questions

In an effort to let my loyal readers (OK, reader) know a little more about me, here are a few pertinent facts.
I am happily married and still hold out hope that someday my wife will be able to say the same.
I don't beat my kids, I can't, they are both meaner and faster than I am.
I really do like puppies, small forrest creatures and explosives, though cats are a little wierd. And there is only one thing that keeps me from having the fastest canoe on the river...........the competition.
Oh and yes I really did enter a horse race one time riding a Honda (I won that one by the way).
And just to help clear things up you probably should also know that contrary to opinions voiced by some readers NO drugs were ingested during the establishment and/or subsequent additions to this blog.
Thank You, Walt

Ghosts on the River Bank

Drifting down the river nowadays one is reminded constantly of the presence of the Union Pacific railroad that parrallels the south bank for much of its route across the state. But on a foggy morning and from the seat of my canoe I'm sometimes able to penetrate the haze and see into the past. To see, not the endless coal trains, but what has passed here before.

Depending on whom you ask, I've been either blessed or cursed with an imagination that lets me see often what I wish to see rather than what's actually in front of me. When I remember what I've read about an area and look across the water to the rail line on the bank its easy for me to visualize what once was there.

On this morning I can see the grey ghosts of Gen. Sterling Price's Confederate Cavalry walking their horses along the tracks above the river bank and with only a little imagination the details begin to appear. Ragged troops in tattered dress mounted on splendid horses, weapons askew as they walk their mounts westward. I can hear the jingle of accoutrements and squeak of leather. As the breeze wafts toward me I can smell the damp odor of their mounts in the heavy air and I notice other things too.

Odors of gun oil, sweaty clothing and the smell of jerky and foodstuffs carried in their knapsacks.
And glints of sunlight sparkle from bridles and spurs.

I watch the nearly endless procession pass and fade again into the fog and I remember their exploits, now nearly a century and a half gone by.

In the spring of 1864 Price had been tasked to stage a raid across Missouri in an effort to show the northern voters that the Civil War in the west was out of control and convince them that it would take someone other than Lincoln to take control in the national elections that fall.

Price had come out of his bases in Arkansas with 12,000 Confederate cavalry, intent first on raiding the great store houses of arms in St. Louis. But even though he destroyed Ft. Davidson in Iron County and opened the way to assault that city he lost the advantage of speed and surprise.

So swinging more to the west, his hoards of cavalry swept over a brave contingent of some 200 federal militia south of Union, Missouri and descended on the river town of Washington.
At first the northern troops had erected a line of defence to the south of town along a ridge where 5th Street runs today. But having gotten word of the defeat at Union the local commander decided discretion was the better part of valor and utilized two small steam ferries to move his garrison across the river to safety.

Price entered Washington unopposed and spent two days pillaging the community before turning westward and following the rail line toward New Haven.
There with a single battery of artillery the Union men tried to fight again, but again the grey horsemen simply enveloped and overwhelmed the defenders. In New Haven the tracks run a block south of the river and here they captured a supply train holding some 400 muskets and a box car full of uniforms. These were taken upriver to Hermann and distributed among the main body which had passed New Haven by.

From Hermann the lines of horsemen passed ever westward crossing and then burning the railroad bridges over the Gasconade and then the Osage Rivers before drawing up before Jefferson City.

As they prepared to lay seige to the capitol word arrived that federal reinforcements were coming up from St.Louis behind them and on riverboats as well.

Price was forced to bypass the capitol and continued his advance up river to Boonville where he was joined by Bloody Bill Anderson whose Bushwackers, hard bitten veterans of the Kansas border wars, included Frank and Jesse James, Cole Younger and many others who would make up that famous band of outlaws after the war concluded.
Here even though the locals were heavily prosouthern in their ideals, the confederates again paused to pillage the town. Then moving onward again, to Glasgow where they captured and burned the large sidewheeler steamboat West Wind, and then captured the Union garrison who had taken up defenses in brestworks outside of town.

They moved farther west to battles at Lexington and Blue Springs and eventually to Westport before leaving the river behind and cutting a swath across southeastern Kansas where they were finally defeated. There they tried to defend their train of plunder and supplies which had come to number more than 500 wagons. This defense cost them the mobility which had been their main advantage. General Price, many of his troops now defeated and dispersed, led his remaining men now down to about 6000 in number back into the safety of the indian country of Oklahoma.

When the Union cavalry clashed with them at Westport they fought what became and still is the largest cavalry engagement in the history of the United States.

They left behind a trail of burned farms and barren country following the river all the way across the state of Missouri and no river towns were left untouched. These hard fighting, wild and desperate men rode the banks of the Missouri River in the longest, largest and finally the most tragic cavalry raid of the war. They lost their captured supplies and failed to help sway the re-election of President Lincoln. They destroyed much property and many lives, but in the end it changed nothing and was but one more chapter in the turbulent story of the Civil War in Missouri.

Whenever I paddle though the fog on an early morning on the Missouri River I'm never sure what I'll see, but whatever or whoever comes out of the fog was really there at one time or another, and seeing it from the distance of time, well if only I could draw you a picture.

First Steamboats on the Missouri

The Missouri river has a long tradition of steamboat traffic and over the many decades that the steamers ruled the river they paid a heavy price for this dominance. More steamboats met their demise on this river than anywhere else in the nation. Fires, explosions, snags, floods, ice and sometimes simple exhaustion of the crews led to many wrecks the length of the river.
The first boats were relatively small, about 75 feet long, around 20 feet wide and generally drawing no more than 3 feet of water. These boats were all side-wheelers up until around 1850 when the stern wheelers began to dominate the scene. Usually they were equiped with single cylinder, single expansion steam engines with engines and boilers mounted below decks in the rounded, carvel planked hull. The main deck was the only one enclosed. Atop this sat a small wheel house and behind that, the open "hurricane" deck. Though this last was sometimes sheltered by a canvas canopy. Indeed some of the earliest boats continued to sport a mast and sail to assist the contrary engines of the day.
The first boat to test the dangerous waters of the Missouri was the Constitution in 1817, however it was a simple excursion from St. Louis that turned around about eight miles above the mouth and returned. The first real assault on the Missouri was two years later in 1819 by a boat called the Independence.
On this voyage Capt. John Nelson carried a cargo of whiskey, flour and iron castings 230 miles upriver to the settlement of Franklin. This trip took 13 days from St. Louis though only seven were spent actually steaming. These small boats were limited in the amount of fuel they could carry and still reserve space for their cargo.
Even a smallish steamer such as this would burn about ten cords of wood a day. That equaled a stack of wood eight feet wide, eight feet high and twenty feet long or about 25% of the available deck space.. This required frequent stops to load wood and take on water for the boiler.
After reaching Franklin and depositing its cargo, the Independence continued upstream a short way to the old town of Chariton just above where Glasgow is located today.
With his successful return, Capt. Nelson proved to the St. Louis merchants that steamboats were the way to reach all points west and the day of the riverboat had dawned on the Missouri.
The boats themselves were the basis of a whole new industry as small settlements were established to provide the wood they needed for fuel. From these settlemnts farms began to spread and the blank spaces on the map began to rapidly vanish. But at the same time they were the cause of the loss of the grand hardwood forests of oak, hickory and walnut that once blanketed large parts of the river valley itself.
This clearcutting led to the dominance of faster growing cottonwood and maple forests on the rich bottomlands along the river and caused changes in the ecosystem that persist even today.

Gasconade Train Wreck

Each turn of the river has a story to tell and knowing them as you pass adds greatly to any river trip.
For the boater floating past the mouth of the Gasconade river all you have to do is look upstream from the mouth of that tributary and you will see a modern railroad bridge a couple of hundred yards above the confluence. This bridge is about 5 years old and is the fourth built over the Gasconade at this point.
The first was completed in 1855 as the Pacific Railroad was extended from St. Louis to Jefferson City. A point of real pride for the railroad and citizens of the time, the opening of this section called for a great celebration.
On November 1st of that year during a cold and severe thunderstorm, a train consisting of the engine and 15 cars was to be the first to traverse the new section. Crammed with more than 600 people, most from St. Louis, this train also carried many dignitaries of the time.
Upon reaching the river the engine started across and had just reach the first pier when the span beneath it collapsed. The engine carrying among others, the president and the chief engineer of the Pacific Railroad Company, tumbled backwards and upside down into the river.
The rest of the train continued onward until all but the last car had run off the embankment and piled into the river as well.
The town of Gasconade was little more than a grist mill on the riverbank at the time and the site of the train wreck was in a very rugged and remote area. The nearest town, Hermann, about six miles east, was overwhelmed by the injured. A hospital train was dispatched from St. Louis to assist in the care of those hurt in the accident. By the final tally 31 people including the chief engineer had lost their lives and several hundred were treated for a variety of injuries.
The Gasconade train wreck ranks to this day as the worst rail disaster in the history of the state of Missouri.

Osage Customs

The Osage tribe was the predominant power in central Missouri when the first trappers and explorers arrived on the scene in the early part of the 18th century. Tall, handsome warriors by all accounts, they were fierce in battle and always ready to defend themselves against their foes. Allied to the Missouri and Otoe tribes they held most others in contempt. They maintained ties to the French and later the Americans for trading purposes but seldom hesitated to lift the scalp of a trader they felt was attempting to swindle them.
An interesting custom, first noted by early explorers, in a village adjacent to Fort Osage was the habit of forcing certain men to live as squaws. It seems that once a young man was allowed to join a war party, should he show the least sign of cowardess or a reluctance to engage the enemy, he was ostracized from the ranks of warriors for life.
The unfortunate soul would be required to dress as a woman, work with the other women and do the tasks required of women for the rest of his life. He might be religated to such things as fetching water and firewood, gardening, tanning hides and such. But he would never again be allowed to join in the hunt, address the council or participate in a war party.
It is little wonder the Osage were considered such formidable adversaries.

MRAPS

The Corps of Engineers has been tasked by Congress to complete a study, the Missouri River Authorized Purposes Study(MRAPS). In which the Corps is being asked to update the original 1944 Pick/Sloan Flood Control Act. That act of congress required the Corps to manage the entire Missouri River watershed for the purposes of irrigation, flood control, recreation, hydro power, fish and wildlife management and commercial navigation.
Details of the study and its various topics can be found at www.mraps.org and links to the provisions for public comment can be found on the riverrelief.org website.
Both Missouri Senators, Bond and McCaskill have stated opposition to this study.
I could understand the Senators disagreeing with the results of a study but I fail to comprehend why they are opposed to the study itself. I have written letters to both but to be totally fair they could hardly have received these letters yet let alone have time to answer.
I do promise to relay their comments as soon as I receive them.
The Missouri watershed needs to be managed according to the needs of America in the 21st century, not 1944.
The importance of the study topics requires open discussion, debate and public input, and politics cannot be allowed to overshadow these requirements. As I have stated in other forums, the only thing harder than getting a bureaucracy to do something, is getting it to change course once it is already in motion.
But I am certain the time has come for the priorities of the Corps to be revised. No longer is transportation a major concern on the river but power generation has certainly moved closer to the forefront. The importance of water quality is recognized as gaining importance over its position in previous decades. Habitat diversification is recognized as a prime concern and flood control will always be a top priority. In my own humble opinion recreation will one day generate more commerce and more tax dollars than any other use of the waterway.