Miles: 39
Time: 6 am MST to 5:30 pm CST
A side trip to Washburn, ND, after Williston proved to be a waste of time. We were married there 15 years ago and wanted to take a photo outside the courthouse, but they tore the historic building down last year due to a bat infestation. Now this sterile building with the entire grounds paved over into a parking lot stands where an historic union once took place.
Campsite Location: Williston, North Dakota
We awoke to fog. At first I was disappointed in the weather but as the day progressed, I was pleased with coolness and not having to look into the sun. We packed the kayak silently, and then I checked the guide book and my maps. At our lunch stop, I discovered that my mileage was off by six miles due to mile 0 being at the Army Corp Of Engineers boat launch. We were meeting Heather six miles upstream at Highway 85 and the boat launch at the bridge. I shared with Ellen that we had only 39 miles to do that day. She readily agreed that we could paddle the distance. We both knew we could if we took plenty of breaks. It was a happy paddle that day.
Our first encounter with man-made structures was with the train tracks that hung closely to the river as it narrowed and bent sharply to the south. As Ellen plotted her way through the curve a train crossed in front of us. It was loaded with coal and heading west, probably to the Seattle area for shipment to China. As we rounded the corner we viewed our first oil derrick. Then a second, and a third, and soon they were routine ornaments on the landscape. By 8:00 am we passed under the old train bridge that lifts apart to allow paddle wheel boats through. It had been used only three times before trains economically forced the big boats off the Missouri River. We found a decent spot to take out for breakfast at 8:15. The bugs had us for lunch. As the tent dried on a log it began to drizzle.
Our next encounter with structures was at the stateline as we crossed into North Dakota. Fort Union was about 100 yards from the river and without access. We continued east. The current seemed to move us well. Or were we in a hurry and just paddling faster?
Later we were on a long straight away and we could see Highway 58 crossing the river on a two lane bridge. Traffic on the bridge was fast and thick with oil trucks. As we approached the bridge truck drivers honked their air horns at us and waved. We saluted them with our paddles lifted in the air. It was inspirational and added fuel to my strokes.
We stopped at the county park on the north shore and across from the confluence of the Yellowstone River. We didn't remain long in the park. It was a mess. Once back on the river the current was fast from the influence of the Yellowstone. There are no dams on the Yellowstone and it is the longest free flowing river in the states. The shoreline changed because of that. Trees lining the shore tilted downstream. Scars on the roots, trunks, and up the trees to about 5'-6' feet were apparently caused by flooding that pushed logs and ice blocks into them. My first thought was how hard it would be to find a campsite below the confluence. Debris was everywhere.
As we got closer to our final take out, the fog lifted and the air warmed. It felt good but the coolness of the fog had delayed our fatigue enough so we could finish the day somewhat less tired then the previous four days. We saw a channel go to the right and debated about taking it. We decided not to chance getting stuck in mud. My GPS told me we were close to the Highway 85 bridge. We were headed NE and then rounded a wide corner and headed east. Our goal the past five days appeared as a gray ribbon stretching across the Missouri River a mile downstream. It would be my final take out after five weeks and 800 miles of paddling. Seeing that bridge and knowing it was the end of my adventure was like meeting a new friend that you knew would be a longtime, trusted companion.
We were both quiet until the final take out. I was processing the five weeks on the Missouri River and very thankful for the fast current, high water, the great weather, and the wonderful people that I had encountered along the way. I gave thanks for my safe crossing of Fort Peck Lake. It was very special to share the last section with Ellen. I allowed her to process the last five days. She left me to my thoughts as we closed in on the final take out. John
Ellen gathers the items needed to make breakfast in view of the old draw bridge.
The final day, the last curve and straight away, and the final mile before the Highway 85 bridge.
John's final take out after five weeks on the Missouri River.
Heather arrived within minutes as we piled our gear out of the kayak and onto the tarp spread out in the fishing access parking lot.
The final day: Ellen
After a clear night, we woke to fog and low clouds only a few hours later. We broke camp and were relieved not to have to contend with thunderstorms or wind, or even the sun in our eyes. We set out at the usual time of 6:00 and stopped for breakfast after a unique old draw bridge. Though the breakfast site was plagued with mosquitoes and signs of cattle, as well as rain, we had the best breakfast of scrambled eggs, potatoes, and sausage in a tortilla. The eggs were the Mountain Home variety, a bit high in sodium and fat but oh so good.
We crossed under a bridge where two different truckers honked at us. It was so strange to see cars and people, let alone be recognized for our efforts by them.
At our lunch stop, John realized that we had six fewer miles to go because he had been measuring back from a take out farther down river. Though neither of us would say it, I think we were hopeful that we could make it to Williston today. We saw the forts from the river, which we knew meant we were in North Dakota. We passed the confluence with the Yellowstone River and then stopped at a dirty county park.
We were treated to another wildlife sighting. John saw a black bear sitting in a tree along the bank. The final part of the river looked a bit different than the map or the GPS; had we followed the GPS, we would have cut a few miles off the end. At any rate, coming around he corner to see the final bridge was a glorious site. I am sure John was beside himself with joy at seeing his final destination a mile away.
We landed at the boat launch and fishing site to find some of the worst mud we had encountered. John sank in almost to the top of his calf-length boots, as did I, and I actually pulled my foot out of the boot trying to get it unstuck. What a way to finish! I had to borrow a fisherman's phone to call Heather as I did not have reception. I was really proud of John for paddling nearly 800 miles, most of that on his own. I can only guess his sense of accomplishment and relief he must have felt.
We could not wait to celebrate with a salad (fresh veggies and fruits!) and some wine in a nice hotel room. Heading for Washubrn, we stayed in a LaQuinta in Minot. It was wonderful! Ellen
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