Day 71: 11/16/06

Today we started back at Frank's house where volunteers on our team take a few final loads of debris out to the gargantuan garbage pile inching toward the street. Frank's son bought all 20 of us poboy sandwiches (subs Nawlin's-style) and Powerade for our help. He was so thankful and it irked us to see him sift through the piles as our bus pulled away. Godspeed Mark!

I wish we would have gotten pictures of a spray painted house up the street that read," Do not feed the cats. I have traps set."

We moved on to 2225 Victor St. On the front lawn of this home sits a FEMA trailer. Inside the trailer lives Mike. Mike has been living in front of his Mom's house since the storm. Mike, his mother, sister, and neighbors were holdouts during the storm. They decided to stick around because they had weathered many hurricanes before. As the water rose, they abandoned this house and broke into the second-floor of a neighbor's home to survive. They waited 8 days to be rescued by boat. Mike explained, "There was no way I was going to take my elderly mother to the Superdome when there were murders and rapes going on. We decided to stay put." The Superdome stories ended up being false, another failure of the media.

Ben found and caught this furry fella. You'll be happy to know that we released him into the wild, probably to run into someone else's home.

As I brought a wheelbarrow-full of drywall out to the garbage mountain, I was surprised to look down and see a doll of Mardi Gras past resting in the insulation and drywall. An ironic image.

Relaxing over a meal back at camp, we noticed a free acupuncture clinic and our team took full advantage (pictured here is Noah). The clinic was provided by Acupuncturists Without Borders for displaced residents and volunteers alike. Did it work? Our friend Johnny from Arkansas summed it up nicely: "It didn't help much, but it didn't hurt nothin' either."

Ben and Charles take Joe out for a drink on Bourbon on his birthday. Jara provided photogenicity and liqueur.

Day 70: 11/15/06

A torrential rain like nothing we've experienced in MN poured down on our camp in the wee hours of the morning. The sound of rain hitting the tin roof was magnified by the fact that there are no ceiling tiles to buffer the sound. Because of the rain, we weren't gutting houses today. Instead, we lended a hand toward daily tasks at Camp Hope. What we're attempting to build in this pic is a wood-burning turkey oven (not a nuclear bunker). Supposedly it can handle 50 turkeys... Can you tell that we have no idea what the hell we're doing? I haven't heard of any food poisoning over Thanksgiving at Camp Hope, so knock on wood!

We take the afternoon off to travel with new friends to Shell City, a shrimping and fishing village on the edge of the delta. The once-bustling seafood city was leveled by the storm. Many people have begun to rebuild, this time raising their homes on stilts. It's great against floods, but what about wind?

At the end of the road in Shell City is a Hurricane Katrina Memorial. It names roughly 150 people that died in St. Bernard's Parish.


We eat superb pizza with our teammates and friends from Wyoming, Marie and Elise. Thanks for taking us out on the town!

Day 69:11/14/06

Another day, another house to gut...but not just any house. This is Frank's home. Frank lived here with his wife for some 40 years prior to the hurricane. They raised a family in this home. Frank's health had deteriorated since the storm and he wouldn't be able to move back. His son Mark was on hand to tell us there story and watch us demolish his childhood home. It was almost as gut-wrenching for us to bring one wheelbarrow load after another of belongings onto the front lawn as it must have been for Mark to watch us.

What keeps us going through hour after hour of intense, smelly, physical labor you ask? FEMA water of course! Pallets of the stuff remain at Camp Hope and despite it being both expired and recalled, we guzzle it down with smiling faces. Like fruitcake, a can of FEMA water makes an excellent doorstop.

The "after" shot of Frank's kitchen. We completed most of the work, but there's still an attic to go through and a ceiling to remove. We'll be back tomorrow.

Okay, so we haven't found the hissing variety, but we have found many happy, healthy cockroaches. Anybody seen Joe's Apartment? (The movie, NOT my apartment.)

Frank's next door neighbor doesn't even have the option to rebuild. This "Involuntary Demolition" notice is posted on countless doors all over the parish. Stupid structural soundness!

Day 68: 11/13/06

Day 1 of our volunteering landed us with a remarkably fun group of volunteers from across North America (Canadians are people too, EH?). Represented on our team (but not all pictured here) are Toronto, Boston, Denver, Cleveland, Baltimore, Detroit, St. Paul, Duluth, Seattle, Washington D.C., Texas, Los Angeles, Virginia, Arkansas, and New York. Pretty amazing. The majority of these amazing people found it within themselves to come on their own to help out. Our mission today, under the guidance of our fearless leaders, Jim (of Habitat) and Brett (of Americorps) was to finish the partially-gutted Fernandez Nursing Home (no, not THE nursing home) that will be turned into a rehab clinic.

Ben and I were assigned the task of clearing out the home's laundry room, which was untouched since the day of the storm surge. We had to break doors down. Once inside, we discovered linen still in the washers and muddy debris everywhere.

Ben points out the water line in the laundry room at about seven feet. The water likely got higher, but remained at seven feet for the longest, thus the line. Luckily, everyone was able to get out in time.

Joe follows the S.O.P. for "Katrina Refrigerators": duct tape without opening and dispose of carefully. We admit we broke protocol out of curiosity...a sort of Pandora's box. Nothing good inside. (What would Habitat do, fire us?)

On a more somber note, the clock on the wall shows the flood time (11:38) and the calendar shows the flood date (August 2005). A reminder of how quick and terrifying this must have been for millions of people and how much work still needs to be done.

The finished product, nothing left but studs and foundation. We hope rebuilding starts soon. We also hope to return someday.

Day 67: 11/12/06

Driving from the tourist-trap that is the French Quarter to the war-zone of St. Bernard's Parish is quite dramatic. On our way we passed the famous Upper and Lower 9th Wards, two of the poorest neighborhoods in NO and two of the hardest hit by Katrina. St. Bernard's Parish is home to many tiny suburbs of NO, like Chalmette, St. Bernard's, and Violet. Camp Hope is located at the W. Smith Jr. Elementary School in Violet, LA. It was a once thriving school and you can almost hear the echoes of little feet in the hallway. Like the buildings we would be gutting and clearing of debris in the next week, this school had to be gutted. It's uncertain if kids will ever run these halls again.
On an afternoon walk, we pass by our first debris pile. Garbage is piled up everywhere in the Parish and they've had to open up closed landfills to handle the immense amount of garbage.
The Camp is located no more than a quarter mile from the Mississippi River. The levees here are the most enormous that we've seen. Luckily the river levees held, it was the levees lining the intracoastal canals that were breached.
Our sleeping quarters were shared with 15 other volunteers in what used to be a classroom. You can see that the ceilings and drywall had to be removed. Hard to believe this school was once under eight feet of floodwater. That said, we're happy to not be in our tents from now on. We'll take mice over bears any day.

Day 66:11/11/06

After driving into the wee hours of the night, we found slumber in a Hammond, LA hotel, just an hour north of the Big Easy. The overcast morning was pushed aside by the excitement and anticipation of New Orleans. We'd finally made it, albeit through a different mode of transport...

Interstate 55 runs south across the western edge of Lake Pontchartrain. The lake was visible along the horizon, but the dominant feature of this stretch of asphalt was the bayou. Black Vultures circled ahead as we drove over what amounts to a really long bridge built out of the water. How many gators did we pass above this day?

After dropping our gear off at Habitat's Camp Hope, we drove back to the French Quarter for an afternoon in downtown. Ben poses in front of Jackson Square, a tribute to General Andrew Jackson (and soon to be President Jackson) for his role in the Battle of New Orleans, which helped end the War of 1812.

The New Orleans waterfront was busy with traffic. In the background, the riverboat "Natchez" passes. Fleeted and moving barges were EVERYWHERE with the fall harvest in full swing. We're happy to be volunteering and not paddling at this point!

Day 65: 11/10/06

On the road again...We pass through the bootheel of Missouri and move into the flatlands of Arkansas. If Arkansas is pronounced AR-CAN-SAW, shouldn't Kansas be pronounced CAN-SAW? Just wondering your opinion. We debated the issue for 15, maybe 20 seconds.

Since we're such HUGE Elvis fans, we hopped off the interstate and gave the king a quick shoutout. Everybody lip twitch in unison. Thank you very much.

A little further down the road, we hit Winona, Mississippi. Kind of like our hometown of Winona, MN, only without the hotdish and bars don't ya know. Oh geez...

Day 64: 11/9/06

Driftwood dominated the river on our last day. We felt a bit like Frogger, trying to get to where we needed to go with logs rushing by. Sometimes tree trunks longer than our canoe would shoot past, adding another obstacle to be aware of.




We each strike a pose as the New Madrid levee and landing appear on the horizon. We didn't make it to New Orleans, but we did make it to New Madrid (pronounced MAAAD-rid). Would we be able to find a way to New Orleans eventually? We had faith in our fellow man (and woman).


We step out of our canoe and leave the river behind. It was strange to feel the creaking in our bones while standing and know it would be the last time for a while.

Four of our heroes pose with us in New Madrid. Those pictured are (from left) Curt, Evelynn, Mary, and Bud. The first four people we met in New Madrid took care of all of our problems. Funny how the world works sometimes... Curt and Evelynn were walking around the levee and promised us a ride to Sikeston, MO (where we could rent a car) if we could find a place to store our gear. Bud (an 85 year-old army vet) called the New Madrid towboat captain and asked him if we could store stuff at his house. Bud also gave us a ride to the captain's house. The captain's wife, Mary showed us where to hide our things! Thanks guys!!


On our way to Sikeston, we pass a cotton gin and shipping plant.


The great beard-off is officially over as we decide to clean up a bit for our re-entrance into civilization. Joe is disappointed to find only 15 species of insects in his beard, nowhere near Bob Marley's record of 28. Maybe next time.

You gotta know when to hold'em...

We have to break some news to ya... The canoeing portion of our trip has come to an end. We have decided to cut our trip short because of rapidly increasing barge traffic, eddy currents, wingdams, and tons of floating debris. The extremely low river levels that have come with this year's drought have actually created whitewater rapids over many of the wingdams. Although we cherish adventure, we cherish life more. A few near-brushes with disaster forced us to make this tough decision.

Although we didn't make it as far as we would have liked, we were able to experience all of the three river sections: the infant Mississippi north of the Twin Cities, the upper Mississippi from the Twin Cities to St. Louis, and the lower Mississippi from St. Louis on. Each has its unique features, but the lower is by far the most treacherous.

As an alternate ending to our adventure, we've decided to go to New Orleans anyway and take on a different challenge. The cleanup and restoration in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina are ongoing. Volunteerism in the area has dropped remarkably in the year since the disaster, though a vast amount of work remains. We've decided to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity in one of the hardest hit areas of the New Orleans area, St. Bernard's Parish. We will be staying at the volunteer community of Camp Hope in Violet, LA, where 150-200 volunteers stay (in very minimal facilities) every day.

Thanks for following our progress and the blogging will not stop here. See how we got from the middle of nowhere in Missouri to New Orleans!

If you have not done so already, please go to our website and check out the number of great environmental websites protecting the Mighty Mississippi and donate time or money to their efforts. The river thanks you!

Day 63: 11/8/06

The amount of debris (both natural and unnatural) has increased dramatically since in the days since the Ohio River joined us. We're trying to figure out why this might be...fewer dams holding up debris, larger cities on the Ohio, or lack of river cleanups? Maybe the we need to be brothers of the Ohio too?


Why are we celebrating like the goons that we are? Today, we cruised through Kentucky, conquering our 5th state AND touching Tennessee! Whoop whoop! Elvis here we come.

Ben collects firewood for our nightly sandbar fire. Dude, you forgot your saw.

We keep our legs strong and limber each night by firejumping. Nice distance.

Day 62: 11/7/06

Here we show off our organized campsite and Joe peaks out of his home like a prairie dog. We were delayed by fog this morning, but once the sun was up it burned off and a-paddling we went.
Ben looks on from his tent as Joe prepares a mighty breakfast once again, that will surely get us going. Breakfast in tent, is a rare but welcome occasion for Ben.









We bathe in the sun, as we make our way south towards it. We at least think we feel it getting warmer as we migrate.

Day 61: 11/6/06

A thick blanket of fog cover the Brothers' campsite this morning. Barge traffic is heavy, just south of Cairo, IL where the Ohio and Mississippi meet. We opted to wait out the fog this morning. While waiting, we heard reports on the radio that the night before, 20 miles upriver on the Ohio, a tow ran into a bridge, losing some of its barges in the process. Even more reason to stay put. No sightings of the wild barges to date...
After the fog burns off, we made our way through a narrow river chute where there were 16 tows within one mile. We used our marine radio A LOT! I think they were more shocked to see us than us them.