We avoid slamming into the trees and debris that block our path. We paddle back upstream to a place where we should be able to exit the boat. I am shaking from exhaustion and maybe nerves. Don is in the front of the boat so he gets out first. Problem is, this bank is also slippery and steep, and he slips in the muddy gumbo. Somehow he wedges between the steep bank and the boat, gripping the boat with his foot so we don’t get separated. Can’t go up, can’t get back in the boat – he was just suspended between the boat and the bank. I try using the paddle as a lever and it comes apart in the middle. Using a dog leash that we clipped to the boat handle, he finds a way to back up the hill and hold the leash. Tango and I watch, helpless while our hero gets the boat up the bank-at least enough for us to exit. Together we pull the boat up the slope and discover we are now in a vast bean field. Gently contoured rows of beans stretch on forever. I notice they have a rusty fungus on the leaves but that doesn’t seem pertinent to our situation. Roads would be a more welcome sight but nothing. Bean plants, about 4 inches tall.
We practice Jane’s three Rs:rest, regroup, and resolve. The rest and regroup part is easy. To resolve, we must accept the only option: portage.That means lifting the boat, walking lightly through the beans and past the crumbling train trestle to a put-back-in spot down river. We each grab a boat handle and lift. Ugggg. Heavy, but we stumble along, tiptoeing between rows so we don’t damage the small bean plants. For 25 yds we lift, tiptoe, rest. Lift, tiptoe, rest. Lift, tiptoe, rest.
We are near the trackless, old, train bed and we need to cross over another rise, this one covered in waist-deep grass.Don carries the boat chairs over the rise, and I grab life vests, insulated bag with the remaining crumbs of food, and my fishing vest. As I drag everything through the grass, my $250 personal locator beacon
Time to get the boat over the rise. Lift, stumble, rest. Lift, stumble, rest. Come on Tango. Lift, stumble, rest.At the top of the rise we have some fun, using the dog leash to pull the boat down the other side. Ha-ha, weeeee.
Now we are in another bean field and must travel another 25 yards to the riverbank. We decide to take a short break and drink the last of our water. Tango drinks from the river. I also dole out the last food: a hunk of bread, 3 American cheese slices and two canned pear halves in juice. Those cashews would have come in handy right then, but we ate those up many miles upstream. Don and I split the bread and enjoy two slices of cheese. Tango gets the third slice. I take out one pear for me and give Don the last one in the container with the pear juice. Ymmmmm. Pear juice is a good emergency supply he reports.
5:00 PM – Nourished and with a second wind, we go on. Lift, tiptoe, rest and so on. Come on Tango! We can do it. Yes, we do ….we get to a decent put-in spot. Fist and paw bumps all around. High fives!
I scramble into the back again, and Tango follows. Don is skilled at getting in last and pushing off at the same time. As I paddle, Don calls a friend and tells him all about our portage adventure. He tells him jokingly that we will exit the river in another 4 hours. Next, Don calls the helpful campground guy, Mike, and tells him the story so he can warn other paddlers. Turns out Mike works for the County. He says he will report our mishap to the county commissioners and hopefully get the old trestle torn down. They talk forever like long-lost friends–two ND guys speaking the same language.
Paddle, paddle. The terrain is now agricultural–endless bean and corn fields. The banks level out and we could get off just about anywhere we want now. Then the bank rises a bit and we see farm buildings.
Back down to farmland, and we watch the high water lap against the crops. Look, there is the water tower and some grain towers in LaMoure, over there–see waaaay in the distance! Woo hoooo. Our old bodies are aching after sitting/ paddling for so long.
After another small turn we see the old La Moure Courthouse. The river turns back west a bit and then back east and west and east and west. Each time we swing east, we see the water tower, grain bins,and courthouse. Then the river starts going NORTH–definitely not an encouraging development. Around again to the west, then the east. We get our 3rd and 4th views of the LaMoure landmarks while another 3 hours pass. We switch paddling every 5 minutes now, since we are both so tired and the current is nonexistent. We decide to sing and make a weak effort to belt out Yellow Submarine, Blackbird, and a pirate-like Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho-Ho. We try 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall but give up at 98.
8 PM – We make yet another turn, south now. We see a house near the shoreline! A man runs out and asks where we started, where we are headed, and so on. He is sooo excited for us. As you can tell, Don loves to make new friends, so as he talks we float into the cattails. I grab the paddle and get us back out while Don has a wonderful chat with the guy.We look like a comedy routine, with sociable Don carrying on and me whacking us out of the cattails. We ask how far to the spillway, and he replies, just one more mile. Do you need any help? Can I meet you at the end? We decline. After 9 hours on the river so far, we are at the end of our strength, but our eagerness helps push us forward. We remember that we do not want to go over the spillway. Right? But do we have the strength to get over to the far right and exit before then? Carefully, we pass under the last bridge and sneak into a little canal that we previously spotted. We exit without mishaps and use the leash to pull the boat up the bank. Ten hours on the river. We estimate that we paddled 14 miles or more.
Using the blue dog leash visible on the left front of the boat, we drag her out of the side slough. Everything is a muddy mess, including us.
The van–Flying Cloud–waits right where we left it this morning. I unlock it, and we grab water. Oh – that thermos of coffee that I left for an end-of-trip treat! I feed Tango and change into dry, mud-free clothes. We lift the boat one more time, right into the back of the van, drive into LaMoure for an ice-cream cone, and head out to the camp ground to pick up the truck.
10:15 PM Bye Jane, Bye Don, Bye Tango. Bye James River. Bye nice ND people. You drive home safe. You drive home safe, too. I had a great day. Me too! Not bad for a couple of old folks.What shall we do on our next date?
We drive toward Wishek in our own vehicles. Don leaves me in the dust as I putter along replaying in my mind the events of the day. I arrive home around 11:15 PM and flop into bed. Tango joins me and snuggles close as the electric blanket takes the chill off our bones.
