Old Plank

It was already late in the day when I reached columbia and the river. The wind was wicked- 'blew strait down the channel from the south, creating an incredible series of white-caps on the Missouri River. The air was warm- like the rest of the weekend, this beautiful Friday's forecast was sunny and upper 60's! ... perfect for the last-minute Old Plank road Clean Up. Still the wind was tough!
The sandbar was very exposed- more so than Ive ever seen it before and I NEEDED to get out and explore it. My small kayak would surely be beaten by the wind and waves; The water was WAY to cold to swim.

I spent some time taking the ol'e 35mm for a walk around the area, but the sandbar was screaming for me every time I caught a glance of it.

I slipped the lil' 9-foot boat over the mud and hopped in off the backside of a wing dike slightly upstream of the sandbar. ' made a few strong strokes with the paddle and shot off the edge of the dike and into the current- and the wind. It immediately swung the light nose of the kayak upstream, so to minimize my resistance to that nasty wind.
I paddled continuously and as best as I could. The icy waves came over the back of the boat and the wind made it near impossible for me to keep on a strait track- I decided I was not going to be able to reach the sandbar and turned back near half-way; the point of no return!

Got to shore- most of me pretty wet and numb despite the warm air and hot sun. I had not reached the sandbar and it's temptation seemed many times worse than before I'd failed. The thing continued to drive me nuts through the evening.
I changed and returned to the Medfly. Folks I did not know and those River Reliefers I was familiar with continued to accumulate through dusk- A GORGEOUS SUNSET!
Steve, Mel and Anthony were kind enough to put me up in the trailer (really had no idea where I was going to be spending the night!)

There were no more than a few dozen volunteers on Saturday morning; I had a fine meal from one of the Landing's fine cooks and Steve gave a rough plan for the day- Mr. Brady volunteered (or maybe he was volunteered) to take a group of folks up to Hwy K and I joined.


I stuck close to Anthony- We hit Hwy K and had walked our first mile in no time! Anthony caried bags to collect recyclables- Much of the litter we removed Saturday was recycled- Most of the largest trash had already been removed, but the little stuff was everywhere!

Lighters, Cigarettes, fast food containers, beer cans, bum lottery tickets and empty Skoal cans filled many bags pretty quickly, but the torn wrappers of Swisher Cigars were the most common things found on the side of the road...

And whats a clean up without the weird things?
A nearly full bottle of Kiwi Liquor, a dump of glass Clorox bottles, a dead barbie doll and a decapitated dog. Our small group worked about 2.5miles of road, and another group did the other 2.5- All in all, though, we removed only like 35bags of trash!?

The Old Plank Road clean up has maintained this stretch of the road annually; Saturday being it's fourth clean-up.... The trash is less and less every year- last year, Steve said, they picked up over eighty bags of trash. CONGRATULATIONS VOLUNTEERS!

This year was my first time picking trash off of the road as part of this group- Maybe next year the amount of trash will not be worthy of a clean-up event!?
We found other things on the side of the road, too; Folks claimed feathers and skulls for themselves and I found this odd bunch of juicy red berries hanging only a few inches from the ground on a rotting stem. They kinda reminded me of Jack-in-the-Pulpit, but would such things still exist so many months after being produced?

The bags were piled into a long trailer and all troops were returned to the Landing only a few hours after we'd started. A quick group photo and a meal donated by Cooper's Landing; many volunteers disappeared pretty quickly, a few stayed behind to yak with friends..

The air was growing warmer and the thick grey clouds which had smothered the morning were lifting and moving north. It wasnt all good; The wind that had been barely noticeable when we woke up was ripping down the channel almost as viciously as it was yesterday- I still needed to get to the sandbar...

Arrowheads that were taken from the bar had been flashed around all day- big, beautiful tan ones and some that had a hint of pink and purple.- Even a long white spear point- perfect and about 5 inches! I'm bound to find one someday!

Intimidated by the wind and water, I resorted to a stroll down the Katy trail- Its only a minute or two until you reach the BOAT HENGE!

I made my way down to the water and I felt so close to the sandbar- it would make a fine swim if you were not risking HYPOTHERMIA! The wind was a bit more calm down on the water-I decided to try again.

The kayak slid down the steep bank underneath the trailer easily- I tossed a life-jacket on and made a mad sprint upstream in the fastest currents. The wind was certainly not as bad as it was up topside, with a few gusty exceptions.

My paddles tore at the surface of the river in an attempt to squeeze upstream of the tip of a wingdike- The water at the end of the structure moved so quickly as to push me downstream when I was caught putting less than one-hundred percent of my energy and focus into paddling. 'Overcame two of them- smooth, slow water in between- before I was able to pull my boat to the side of Cooper's boat ramp. I made a quick peek up at the trucks and let John know where I was headed- he could only wish me good luck, and I know that he wanted to get onto the islands as much as I did.

Though the wind was strong, it came at an angle that allowed it to be partially blocked by the trees and topography on the west bank and made for an easier headwind rather than one that would push me sideways. The water was cold- a few drops that ran down from the blade felt like ice on the parts of my skin that'd been warmed by the direct sunlight

The first step from my craft landed me knee-deep in a soupy pool of sand- the same spot that appeared firm when I ran the kayak onto it. I feared the loss of my loose shoe, but it stuck with me for the few steps it took to find land. that same icy sensation met the wet part of my legs, though it took an extra second to realize. I pulled the boat until I was sure it was safe from floating away- it would kinda suck to be stranded on the other side of such a cold river!

... It would be several hours before anyone would hear from me again... I finally got my sandbar adventure, and though I never found that arrowhead, I did get a lot of cool stuff! Some shards of ancient pottery and some knappings, a cool scraper. The small dunes that held the largest sediments appeared much darker than the sand-

The materials were sorted by shape, size and density and were painted onto the sandbar like clouds in the sky- I imagine you could learn alot about hydraulics and the river here- universal knowledge that could be used to understand any flowing body of water, and even things like weather and the geography of the mountains and the badlands. It can all be had by studying the tumbled, experienced debris- they are laid in the river's language...

I waded into the cold water- maybe I would have a better chance for an arrowhead if I searched the parts of the sandbars that were submerged and likely undiscovered. I was surprised that my legs and feet withstood the ice for as they as they did- little pain until the end, though not much feeling, either! .. Nor were there arrowheads.. at least none that I found. Still, more cool petrified wood.

The sun went in and out of the clouds and the wind began to die down. . . The sandbar was becoming clam and peaceful; it would be the first time since I saw the sandbar that it could been perceived as such. My thin leather shoes were tight on my feet- Maybe it was the cold, or simply the globs of wet sand in them. It didn't matter, and certainly was not worth the taking the time from my hunt time to investigate!

I walked downstream- maybe a quarter-mile to a small channel that made this bar an island. It looked shallow, and only about ten or twelve feet across. I stepped into the water and it felt much colder than the wading I did just a few minutes earlier- I began to walk across, though my feet led me at more of a diagonal as I discovered more wet gravel piles. The diagonal didn't last long though; The water was turning painful! On the other side there were many more sandbars- about two hours worth with some fast-paced skimming. I gathered two more handfuls and a pocket of the most valuable materials, but no arrowhead. The sun poked out again and light the sandbar- I snapped a photo and then one of the melting ice-lilies that had become trapped in a small cove behind the nicest gravel bar. They were beautiful- had a texture on 'em that was something you could only find on ice- a smooth, polished checkerboard-like pattern. THe black, glassy water and ice made for a kind-of surreal look,

I turned back- It was nearly a half-mile to the kayak! The boat could hardly be seen. It took me a second, but I made it as far as the small channel. TOO MUCH treasure; I filled my pockets and made a pouch out of the front side of my t-shirt. One last wade- I only made it knee- deep before I felt the burny-stingy frozen pain this time- It seemed, also, to go deeper into my skin, as well. I gave it a quick burst of energy and made it out. Alive !

The pain got worse, but then quickly receded; For the last of my short trek my feet would grow increasingly tender and I soon became aware of just how much sand filled my shoes.

Another boat- the big, aluminium canoe that usually rests on the boat ramp was beached near mine. It's two bare-footed paddlers were exploring the sunken part of the sandbar as I had. I made a pit-stop at the kayak to drop my camera and offload all of the wonderful things I'd collected before approaching the men. They, too, wore swollen, jagged pockets and handfuls of rocks. One paddler was excited to share all of his cool agates and the other gave a very enthusiastic spiel about all of the cool flint-workings that they have recovered in the past, and those they'd found today. He showed me some very cool things- scrapers and knappings like I found. They visited my kayak for a glance at my treasures and were most excited about some of the unusually large amber-coloured agates I brought from the other side of the small stream. We exchanged the appropriate wills of good-luck and I slid the boat into the water for the last time.

I tooled through the shallows ahead of the sandbars for only a few moments- the water was clear, but the accumulations of larger stones and such were uncommon. Someone shouted my name from the medfly and I gave a quick sprint across the Missouri. Anthony helped me at shore- I nearly fell into the water! We carried the kayak up to the truck and several folks seemed eager to see what I brought back. Mel loved the clearest agates and I think Steve was as surprised as I was with the amount of Petrified wood- much of which was actually agatized and colourful!

I spent some time ashore; John shared a great history of the land which we sat on... The natives, the old river channels and first settlements. He told me stories of exploring the surrounding hills, many of which, he said, are topped with multiple 'Indian mounds.' I cant wait to do some more exploring! (and I WILL find an arrowhead!)