At 10:30 am on Saturday, we dropped a cooler, backpacks, tent and sleeping bags into a canoe and set off down the wide, slow-moving Green River in Mammoth Cave National Park on one of the hottest days of the year.
20 miles lay ahead of us. From Dennison Ferry to the Green River Ferry, we saw a handful of other people canoeing or kayaking, but from then on, we were primarily alone.
A slow-moving river in a national park that is absent of people is one of the most quiet and serene places to be. We canoed in silence much of the way, the only sound being our paddles dunking into the water and drip, drip, dripping up to dunk again, a steady 3 mph pace. A break in paddling revealed an astounding level of natural sounds, birds, bugs, rustling leaves, a fish splashing up for a bug. It was almost sacrilegious to resume paddling, or speak above hushed tones.
Saturday's goal was 15 miles, which we estimated would be Crump Island, the last island before Houchins Ferry. Crump Island was actually about 17 miles down river. There was no almost no current on the river, meaning we had to paddle almost constantly; no taking advantage of the current. I wondered whether my arms would make it around 10 miles, but I kept going.
The seclusion on the river allowed to see a number of deer, and Joe silently paddled us close while I snapped photos. It's the closest I've been to deer in the wild, and it was almost surreal to see them up close.
A couple times we stopped to get in the water, which was as refreshing and relaxing as crawling into a set of fresh, clean sheets after a long, tiring day, as waking up in a warm sleeping bag on a cold dewy morning, as drinking ice cold aloe water after a day at the beach. The water was several degrees below body temperature and it was difficult to get out after sinking into it.
We also came to a cave, and stopped to look in, but there wasn't much to explore. The cold air coming from the cave was heavenly and would have been glorious to camp near.
Around 5 pm we pulled our canoe onto the shore of Crump Island and set up camp. The tent was up in a matter of minutes. After a half hour of unsuccessful fishing, despite being able to see the fish clearly just off shore, we set up the small propane heater and warmed up the broccoli, cauliflower, and pre-cooked brown rice. Paired with a couple cans of tuna, it was more than we could eat. We made room for s'mores on gluten free graham crackers as the small fire crackled on the shore and the stars lit up the sky.
The unbearable bugs drove us into the tent in a short time. It was hot. We tried to play Gin, but it only made us sweat more. We gave up on doing anything other than lying still in the tent and tried to fall asleep. I was so horribly uncomfortable that I didn't sleep much. Joe, however, slept fine. That night the moon was so bright it looked like early morning. I desperately wanted to sleep soundly and wake up to a glowing morning, but by early morning I was so exhausted from barely sleeping that I slept soundly through the best part of morning.
By 8:30 we were packed up and back on the water, and it was already very hot. We thought we had about 5 miles to go, so we wanted an early start. We really only had about 2.5 miles to go, and once the Ferry came into view we took it slow.
Along this stretch of river a pair of bald eagles had built a nest and had a few babies. We never saw the nest, but we certainly saw the bald eagles. In fact they flew right over our heads in an attack on a blue heron that got too close to their babies. The babies were almost full-grown, all brown and slightly smaller than the adults. We watched them as long as we could, that is until they flew away. It was amazing being able to be so close to them in the wild.
As we neared the Ferry, reality came creeping back in. I didn't want to leave the security of the river. I didn't want to have to say goodbye to Joe, again. I didn't want to turn my cell phone on, or unpack my things at home. I didn't want to think about going to work the following day. The mental peace and clarity I experienced on the river, in the middle of nature, with not more than a handful of human souls, and absolutely no extraneous noise was and is everything I'll ever want.
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