Page 76 - "Mississippi in the 1st Person" - Michael James Stone (Demo/Free)

With the river leading me left, and far away from where I thought I would go, a ridge line ap-
peared at water level in the distance. Scarcely a downslope of a minor grade, the slope to the

flat forest of brown rushes was doctored with evergreens littered to the water edge. With naked
spring trees seemingly waiting my approach.

I had begun to search the skylines and horizons for that “green” knowing land had to be there

and not some overgrown lake. Or worse a muddy mess waiting to suck me into the mire.

At this point with really no long distances yet done, I was already tired of playing marsh baby
to the mother of all duck environments and since the sky was blue and the water clear, brown

was becoming a downer.

I don’t want to admit “not being a flatlander” but I lived 4,000 feet up with a view of 9,000
foot and higher peaks everyday. Mountains were my friend and I was missing them.

My mind was trying hard to adapt my emotions to this.

I saw birds. They were more than obvious. What I did not see and was not disappointed was

mosquitoes, or flies. It was a though they did not exist. I had plenty of preventative measures
and certainly nights in the 30’s was likely discouraging their growth.

Where I came from walking in this kind of area we have billions of midges. BUGS we called

them, since who cared what they were really if they were a pest.

Still I wasn’t complaining just learning my new home away from home.

Days passed. (really about an hour,) and very long shadows were walking across my view of
the plateau of brown marsh forestry.

(My mind had to keep coming up with new ways to “appreciate” this area).

I could see ahead of me the river was near a bank of sorts and apparently turning along it. Sev-
eral dead trees had fallen in the river but plenty of room to go around carefully.

I saw a few evergreens on the slope and there in the light of the setting sun sat a bald eagle.

Just as I watched he took off with grandeur and flapped with majesty. I watched as he flew to
my left, turning so I could see him fly out of sight.

BUT I HAD TAKEN MY EYES OFF OF THE KAYAKS IN FRONT OF ME

It was less time than it took to blink, but it could have just as easily been ten minutes or an

hour because once you take your eyes off of the Mississippi River, you learn quickly why you
never make that mistake again.