Paddling with the Father in Law into the Heart of Darkness

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead
where there is no path and leave a trail”
–  Ralph Waldo Emerson

Growing up around St. Louis, I’ve always been fascinated by the Lewis and Clark expedition. We’ve even got this little thing called the Gateway Arch commemorating the trip. It’s kind of a big deal, I’m told. Well, the Arch is just one part of the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial which included a museum, some movies, and a few other things. (I say “included” in the past tense because they just renovated and I assume it’s all changed. Probably virtual reality and Pokemons. By the way, I think there’s some teenagers on my lawn, I’ll be right back). I always enjoyed the museum much more than the view from the top of the Arch. I mean it’s alright up there and everything. Like you go up this super cramped elevator resembling a futuristic bathroom. You get to the top, look out tiny windows, sometimes it sways. That’s about it. Then you get back in the Futurama bathroom elevator and slowly head back down. If you do go, I recommend a group of 5. If you do not have a group of 5, you will be required to ride up the Arch with strangers. I’m sure those strangers will be nice enough, but they will stink and it will not be comfortable for anyone. However, if there is not a stink-then you and your group stink and no one wants to face that truth in public. You can thank me later for this helpful tip. So if you’re in town, with at least 4 other friends and/or family, I suggest you check it out.

Even as a kid, I gravitated to the museum as it described different aspects of the expedition as well as the daily lives of Native Americans and early settlers of the Louisiana Purchase. It really spoke to my fascination with the historical perspective of regular guys. We all know about the military leaders, politicians, and rich folk. I’ve come to terms that my legacy won’t be one of controversial biographies and great debate, no matter what time period I lived in. I probably wouldn’t get along with old-timey celebrity folk anyway. They’d probably just telegraph their humblebrags anyway. Tweetograph, maybe?

In a stunningly creative move in the field of field trip planning, my grade school took two consecutive field trips to the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial in 5th and 6th grade. As part of the tour, one kid is selected to dress up as a mountain man during the Park Ranger’s presentation. I was hand-picked both years. Feelings were hurt. Not mine, but I did hear some comments. I should’ve declined the second time, but I didn’t then and I wouldn’t now. You may call this selfish, I call this two-year dominance and an undefeated record. If any of my former classmates are reading this – in your face. You may be rich and happy now, but I’ll always have this.

Since I’m attracted to life outdoors, I was naturally attracted to the museum. I don’t know if places like this sparked or stoked the obsession. Guess it’s a chicken and egg kind of argument (even though I think the sciency types have even figured that one out now).

When my wife and I were dating, I found out she had actually worked at the Arch during high school and my father-in-law was equally fascinated with the Lewis and Clark expedition. Due to my wife’s lofty position as an employee of the gift shop, I mean Museum Store, my father-in-law had the opportunity to read Lewis and Clark’s personal journals and he actually did it. This is no easy task. For example, William Clark, not known for his skills with quills and parchment, never spelled mosquito the same way twice resulting in something like 19 different spellings. Actually, not something like, here they are:

Makes one appreciate something as simple as a dictionary. It’s the little things in life. However, part of me thinks that Clark was just screwing with us. You’d have to try pretty hard to come up with that many spellings. So William Clark might be the first and most patient internet troll.

So my father in law, Edmund (names were changed to protect the innocent) had several legs up on me on this subject and became so inspired by the journey, he purchased a canoe to create his own explorations.  He bought it back in 2005 or so. And as you’ll notice, the trip took place in 2016 or 2017, so lots of talk, many moves, children, grandchildren, and every other reason got in the way. Sometimes things just take a decade.

Luckily this granted me some time to catch up on Meriwether Lewis and William Clark.

Pretty much every city, municipality, county, town, street, old-timey shop, and about every other thing in and around St. Louis claim some sort of connection to the expedition. Many consider themselves the jumping-off point, where the trip really started. I’ve seen this same thing in several towns and cities where historical events happened and just imagine the arguments that ensue at City Council meetings. “No this event that happened 200 years ago actually started where my restaurant now stands” says one. “Nuh, uh this actually started where my laundromat/adult boutique now stands” till eventually, the only place that can legitimately claim the event is wherever the participants great, great, great, great, great grandparents were born.

What I’m saying is, you really can’t go anywhere around here without some connection to the Lewis & Clark Expedition.

Plus signs like the one directly above are everywhere. It would not be an incorrect conclusion to think Lewis and Clark wore themselves out early, just riding around with no real direction.

Many times when sign Clark is pointing in any direction but West, I’ll yell at the sign, “wrong way, Clark”. I’ve done this for a long time and am easily entertained. I do have to come clean, I never really check if Clark is pointing west or not. That feels better.

On my daughter’s Spring Breaks, we’ve gone to several different L&C museums and sites around the area. I think she likes Lewis and Clark about as much as I do, but I know she likes the spyglass (now lost) and the wood carved eagle pen (once lost, now found) she’s gotten over the course of our journeys. There really are a ton of cool locations – everything from working reproductions of their boats and a camp with real buildings they used.

Anyway, I finally got around to reading Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose. Despite the alleged plagiarism, it’s a good read for anyone interested in the expedition while offering great insight into the early United States on several levels. I always pictured the expedition as two men up against great odds with no additional human contact during the course of the two-year trip. This isn’t the case; Lewis and Clark assembled a team and met with many Native American tribes along the way. In some cases, becoming very familiar with the natives, ya know what I mean? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. It was sex, lot’s of sex with the natives. So much so, anthropologists have found some L&C campsites by the level of mercury in the latrines. Seriously. And you know what mercury was used to treat? Syphilis. More than likely, they used mercury on this trip to cure just about everything, including general malaise.

One of their main goals was to offer trinkets and wares to the different tribes as introductory gifts from their new Great Father, Thomas Jefferson. A secondary goal – Mammoths. Old TJ imagined a frontier just lousy with Mammoths-three times the size of elephants along with 10-foot tall lions. And Jefferson wanted proof. Early Americans, right?

Malaria was also real danger just outside of civilization and possibly contributed to Lewis’ eventual demise. It’s hard to imagine contracting malaria anywhere in the United States, much less the upper Midwest. So now, let’s all be grateful for dictionaries, medical advancement, and public works projects. (On another note, do not name your child Meriwether Lewis insert last name. William Clark named a son after his partner and that son also died unfortunately after basically inventing the Kentucky Derby. I guess doing great, memorable things, then dying tragically isn’t all that bad, but I’m not going to risk it.)

I ‘d say I know a little bit about Lewis and Clark but, all told, that knowledge didn’t help my canoeing skills in the least. So again, I’ve gone off course. Thank God, we’ll be hitting the Meramec River which is almost impossible to go off course.

Now, I can only assume that you think this’ll evolve into some sort of buddy comedy where two mismatched partners are forced together and comedy ensues. As it turns out, this was nothing like Lethal Weapon, Lethal Weapon 2, Lethal Weapon 3, Lethal Weapon 4, Shanghai Noon, 48 hours, Rush Hour, Tango and Cash, Bad Boys, Midnight Run, Another 48 hrs, Bad Boys II, Men in Black, Men in Black 2, Men in Black 3, Hot Fuzz, Beverly Hills Cop, Beverly Hills Cop 2, Beverly Hills Cop 3 etc. (There are a lot of these types of movies and I’ve grown weary of this “joke”). And, as always, all my two-man trips are much more like Point Break (the original, not the perversion they released recently we’ll not speak of again). Unfortunately, I’m more like Gary Busey than either Keanu Reeves or Patrick Swayze.

So, I probably hadn’t been in a canoe for 15 years or so and was never all that skilled to begin with. But hey, I’ve never flipped one. Most of my floats involved one of those rafts that require no skill since I floated for reasons other than the enjoyment of the outdoors. So we finally set a date and with an unseasonably warm fall, the outlook was good. I got a little nervous since I’m pretty knowledgeable about the outdoors, but not so great on the water. I love streams and rivers, but prefer wading. In my mind, boats are just something else to worry about and maintain which adds to my stress rather than helping to create a relaxing environment. Really, I just haven’t had the means or the will to learn more. So it all stems from a lack of confidence and not wanting to look like an idiot. To those who know me, you’d think looking like an idiot wouldn’t bother me so much. Weirdly, not the case.

So we loaded up the canoe on top of Edmund’s Toyota Avalon with like 2 million miles on it. I followed behind in my truck and headed to the put in on the Meramec. Interesting note, on the way we saw a full-blown police chase. A black Charger flew down the highway at what had to be 120 mph. I only saw it when as it sped by on my left and cut in front of me by inches.  Scared the bejeezus out of me. Saw the Highway Patrol flying up shortly after and….. I chased down the Charger, forced him off the road, used my knowledge of Kung Fu gained from none other than watching Walker, Texas Ranger, secured the ‘perp’, and let Officer Friendly take said offender up the river to the big house. True story.

The put-in wasn’t too far from the highway and just south of Six Flags St. Louis. This is when I got to thinking about outdoor opportunities. Maybe 25 minutes from my front door and I was prepared to launch and paddle a couple miles on a real river. It’s a bit surreal. Though not as surreal as the hiking trail just north of Six Flags. You walk right by one of the larger roller coasters, seeing and hearing people scream at the top of their lungs as the cars drop down a huge hill and go up a sharp turn. Funnel cake, giant turkey leg, and other carnival scents waft through the trees. It’s quite a juxtaposition against the serene valleys. Soon enough, that assault on the senses melts away as the forest thickens. It’s a zen-like experience with the material world drifting away as I enter the zone of omnipresent supergalactic oneness.

Anyway, we dropped my truck off at the finish line and headed to the put in. All this driving around gave me too much time to think and I had no doubt we’d tip at some point. I just accepted it and checked that I brought dry clothes. Edmund, of course, sealed that deal, “well, I’ve never flipped… almost once”, he said ominously (Edmund says pretty much everything ominously. Must just be the way fathers-in-law talk to their sons-in-law. Or maybe that’s how sons-in law-hear their fathers-in-law). Thanks, Edmund, for ensuring we’d flip and emboldening me with great confidence (as the sarcasm drips from my fingertips)

Edmund gave me a quick refresher on paddling and we were off. The nerves really didn’t kick in about paddling. It is, was, and probably always will be, the landing that gets the butterflies a-fluttering. Maybe it’s from my many misadventures of docking boats at Lake Taneycomo or maybe I just know how badly I lose focus at the finish line, either way, it’s something I just need to prepare for. Anyway, I didn’t even bring a camera, I only brought a laser focus on not looking like an idiot, dry clothes, and of course snacks. Well those things and my ever present rapist’s wit.

At the time of the trip, I was under some stress and started to get that closed in feeling. I think I needed it, so I just kept my eyes open and enjoyed the quiet (well for the most part, Edmund’s a bit of a talker, kinda like JEff Bezos is a bit rich). The Meramec is pretty tame though we did float by an undercut cliff that stood out for no particular reason. The river created around a ten-foot overhang to the bank through solid rock. I pondered what the rock looked like before the water started taking it apart, which led to what that rock looked like during the Civil War or when Mastodons roamed the area. Was it uneroded and pristine before the dinosaurs? Has anyone had this same thought about this particular undercut bank before? Did Lewis or Clark take a side trip and view this river valley from atop that very cliff?

Probably should have taken a few pictures of that cliff however, my fear of mixing water and expensive electronics prevented any attempt.

Alright, either the mileage was much shorter than I planned or my powerful paddle stroke sped us too quickly to the end (it’s the first one). Take out beckoned. Again, I know this is my weakness and I was positive we were going in the water. Let’s just say I wouldn’t have taken the line Edmund took. Of course, any canoeing confidence I’d gained started heading into a nosedive anyway, so I’m going down swinging, then swimming. We were taking out at a boat launch, which isn’t ideal- just no slow water to ease into the shore. We were coming in hot, the margin for error narrowing quickly. With no water depth to paddle, I just held on. We hit hard and the back end spun downstream. The canoe jerked sideways and I stuck my hand down to steady, reaching the bottom. I don’t know if that saved us from tipping, but I did end up with a wet arm and an untipped boat. Edmund may have yelled at me, I may have yelled at him. Either way, we were on dry land with dry underpants. An admirable goal of every boat trip.

As we packed up and headed home, it again sunk in that this short little trip totaled about 4 hours, only 2 miles from civilization and one mile from a frantic high-speed chase. Might as well have been on the moon. Who knew serenity could be found just off the Highway at the exit to Six Flags?

Recently, I talked with some parents in my daughter’s Girl Scout troop. The conversation turned to some backpacking trips they’d taken and everyone had stories to tell. Almost all the stories were pretty well in the past. I’m always looking for new places to check out, and maybe someday, I’ll actually find some people to do outdoorsy stuff with, so I got pretty engaged in the conversation. I asked if any of them had done anything recently, but none had. I heard “it’s just not the same here as it is out West, just not worth it”, “I’m too busy”, “Missouri’s just not exciting enough, I used to hike in bear country”, along with a couple other responses that were really toeing the line of ridiculous. Maybe they were just protecting themselves from me asking them to hang out. Hey, it wouldn’t surprise me; I’m not exactly cool by most (editor’s note: all) accepted standards. That conversation stuck with me for some time and, in a quiet moment on the river, this conversation, as well as others came back to me. From these Girl Scout parents to a doctor who believed he had to go to Canada and hike three whole miles from civilization (to an airdropped pallet of booze) to escape his ringing phone. The problem is, I’m really not much different.

My “home” waters (or trails, or happy hunting grounds) are all pretty far away by vehicle. Travel creates an obstacle, not one like Lewis & Clark experienced, but something to think about and plan for nonetheless. Travel is also just starved for your time. My rule of thumb: if you travel 6 hours round trip, it should be for at least 12 hours of doing the thing you traveled for. Travel, essentially time, is the easiest excuse to make. Time, being the only non-renewable resource, is at a premium in my life. I’m sure it is in yours too.

But I find myself taking that excuse about not having enough time a step further. I’m calling it “excuses of worth”. Basically, is the activity worthy of my limited time (like I’m some DC fatcat)? Is it awesome or dangerous enough? Is it going to be something I’ll tell my grandchildren about someday? Is it just a walk through the “green tunnel”? I think I want to feel like I did something death-defying without the actual threat of death.

I know I tend to think like a lion when it comes to everything I do, but of course not in the super cool “king of the jungle” way. You see, a lion (and most predators) can judge whether chasing particular prey is worth the energy expended to catch it. They’ve specifically evolved to do this. It makes sense, a squirrel a hundred yards away just wouldn’t make up for the calories expended to get to it. Inherent risk vs. reward. I’ve found this isn’t a great approach to life and actually sucks the enjoyment right out of it. My thinking gets stuck in the following loop – Why should I hike this little two-mile trail when there’s Everest? Why fish for bluegill when the world record trout is swimming around just 4 hours away? It’s a line of thinking that leads to Netflix and Chill, but not the cool one that all the kids are going crazy for. (editor’s note: OBT has neither the foggiest idea what Netflix and Chill is, nor what all the kids are going crazy for)

Just maybe the lion’s right and I’m bad at metaphors – the best, most satisfying “meals” really are closer. Just replace the lion’s calorie expenditure with yours and my excuse potential. It’s difficult for me to sort out. I still want to do those big things and that want still does kind of devalue the smaller, closer things. On the other hand, how could I expect to be prepared if someone said, “Hey man, airfare, gear, and guides are all paid, so why don’t you come along? We really need 4 people for some reason to climb Mt. Everest and Lenny got scurvy and had to drop out”. Happens all the time, right? What if Lewis told Clark, “This whole Louisiana Purchase thing seems pretty swell, but also like really, really hard. How ‘bout we just check out Harrisburg and tell the President wooly mammoths are extinct?  Seriously? Mammoths? How did he even get elected? Like he’s going to get off his ass and look. Have you seen the wine cellar at Monticello? Hmm, maybe that explains the mammoths.”

I guess what I’m saying is, you might not be throwing streamers to salmon in the Rockies after hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, camping in Alaska and waking up in the morning to hunt Caribou. Hey, if you can do all that in a single trip, my hat’s off to you because I’m purposely not making sense. We can create these dream trips in our mind and nothing can ever live up to it. Or we have a great trip, then compare everything after to it. Either road leads to the same place when we don’t apply our predatory instincts correctly. We start to apply those killer instincts to even easier prey – Netflix and resentment. Ok, that last part might just be me. (Editor’s note: OBT knows everything about Netflix and resentment. Please do not ask him about it. Unless it’s your last day to live and you need that day to feel like it lasts forever.)

I’ve always found this quote by St. Augustine to be a bit pretentious: “The world Is a book and those who do not travel read only one page”. I’m not in a place right now to travel the world nor do I have the desire. I’ve traveled a bit and I don’t find much difference to where I currently live. I see WalMarts, Targets, TGI Fridays, Subways et cetera and then find the real uniqueness outside civilization. In Mexico some years ago, I found myself within walking distance of a WalMart and it wasn’t even called El Wal Marto like this ignorant gringo expected.

How many times have you heard something like, “we just got back from Vancouver and tried sushi. I never tried it and they have this great place there and it was amazeballs.” Guess what? Every city has amazeballs sushi places a lot closer than Vancouver. (Unless you live in Vancouver, well your amazeballs sushi is close to home). The same line of thinking applies to amazeballs sushi, ziplining, hiking, fishing, miniature golf, and just about anything else. I think we all step out of our comfort zones on vacation time, which is fine. Seems the problem is we stay well within our comfort zones and build impenetrable boundaries complete with Korean-like DMZs. We don’t do all that to keep others out; it’s to keep ourselves in.

With globalization, cities are becoming carbon copies of each other. If you’ve read my About Me page that last sentence may be the gritty origin of my curmudgeonry. But when I get outside the city limits, I’ve found the real uniqueness, the beauty, the things I apparently want strangers to read about on the internet. Why have I read St. Augustine’s quote and decided that’s not for me and my means? Why am I so arrogant to think that my hometown is any different than other places I’ve visited? Again and again, every time I point out the flaws in other people’s thinking, it highlights my own flawed thinking. It should do that and it’s good for me. That’s something that’s leading to me to all sorts of new discoveries. And you could take a look at my flawed thinking and maybe think how yours can be better. In fact, I welcome you to comment on how flawed my thinking is.

As I see and read my addled thoughts on the page, I don’t think I’ll ever have a definitive answer to whatever questions I’m asking myself. Maybe St. Augustine was simply talking about traveling within and all the people on Instagram use the quote incorrectly. Most likely I don’t know what St. Augustine’s intentions were because he’s been dead for 1,588 years. So me and the Istagrammers are both wrong. And right. (Oh, and you can find me on Instagram-@olbuschytales. I think Instagram is pretty great. I’m sure the negativity will set in eventually, but it’s positive and fun at the moment).

But I do know once I started looking for adventure closer to home, I found it. Actually, I’ve found a ton and my list of places to visit and visit again just builds and builds. Even a short float down the often overlooked Meramec River at least scratches that adventure itch, washes off quite a bit of real world, and gets the brainwaves firing in the right direction. My eyes have been opened but I often think, “Why didn’t anyone tell me about all these places?” When the real question has always been “why did I never ask?”

So maybe there aren’t any answers and we all live a meaningless life of existential ennui between our yearly vacations. Or maybe we take a look at what’s close enough and “nutritious” enough to fill the void, then jump at the chance when the opportunity to join a multi-year, historical expedition comes up. And it will, right? Right?

Sometimes a short trip down a river sparks an endless voyage inward.

I think I just answered my own question.

Well, thanks for reading. Until next time…

The man behind Ol’ Buschy Tales is just like Rust Cohle in True Detective, only if Rust Cohle was played by Gary Busey’s even less stable cousin. You’re already following your own less stable cousins on social media, so why not Ol’ Buschy Tales too…
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