Anyone Can Do It"—Paddling the Mississippi with Eddy L. Harris
Reviewed by Brand Frentz

In 1985 Eddy L. Harris, a 30-year-old aspiring writer from the city (St. Louis) decided to take a canoe trip. He had almost no paddling or camping experience. He launched his borrowed canoe (described only as "an18-foot green canoe") with his borrowed tent and gear on Lake Itasca in mid-October! Then, in his own words: "On the quiet lake my zigzagging is no problem, but I will need to learn to control this thing." He had several plastic garbage bags full of his clothes, food, and gear, and he had a dream that he had held from childhood, to paddle the river from its origin in Northern Minnesota to New Orleans.

He had some things to learn, of course. But Harris explains early in the book that his lack of experience or careful preparation made it even more of a "true adventure." And after a few days on the river-including the first day which he called "the worst of my life" because he overestimated his rate of travel and had to paddle long into the cold night to reach his camp-he reached this conclusion about canoeing: "Hard work and dirty hands. No experience necessary. Just common sense and guts. Anyone can do it." That meant that he could do it too. One more thing he brought on the trip-and I think it is what made the difference-was an understated, but fierce determination to keep going, to see what lay around the next bend, how the river would challenge him and what it would give to him.

So he paddled off down the Great River, camping on the banks, waving to people. They would ask, "Where are you going?" And he would yell back with a big smile, "New Orleans!" They would call encouragement to him. At Minneapolis he entered the Corps of Engineers navigation marking system, and went through the first locks. He was alone in the lock and chatted with the operator, no problem. Later when he had to share locks with barges and towboats the turbulence was a big problem. It was also at Minneapolis that a strong sidewind caught him and blew him right off the river, up against the riprap shoreline. But this led him to figure out that by angling the boat into the wind, he could keep control in the wind. When he encountered the first barge train below St. Paul, he had enough control to make for shore and watch it pass from land, a technique he used whenever possible on the upper river. So he learned as he progressed.

He stopped in many towns and cities to look around, getting the lay of the land but mostly meeting people. As a black man he was apprehensive about how he would be received. He expected that people would mostly be helpful and friendly, and they were. But some were not. Harris’s response to racism, for example in dealing with a salesman in Dubuque who told him "as a joke" that he should be wearing one of those jackets with "River Rat" on the back, except his would say "River Nigger," was mature and constructive, even though he was hurt. He managed to explain what was wrong with the joke and came away feeling sorry for the man.

The trip was hard. He had to fight loneliness, not to mention winds, rain, cold, barge traffic, locks, and wing dams. Just after Keokuk the wind and current grabbed him and-even though he had some experience by now and was paddling desperately to avoid it-swept him broadside into a navigation buoy. At the last minute he grabbed the gunnels and held on. He came out shaken but mostly dry. Because of the hardships, by the time he reached Iowa he was already assuming that if he made it to St. Louis he would stop. At the waterfront in St. Louis he was met by a gang of family and friends, and welcomed as a hero. He could relax, enjoy some good food, and go back to his usual, easy life.

But he didn’t. The challenge of the river called him back, and after a couple of days of recuperation he put in and headed south again. There is a revealing side plot here: his older brother Tommy, another city man, thought the trip sounded so good that he joined Eddy, for two grueling days and one miserable night (mosquitoes, rain, and Tommy had refused to sleep in the tent). He quit in Cape Girardeau, saying, "I can’t take it." In this short time, it became clear that Eddy was already changed. He was comfortable outdoors and on the water. His brother’s fear, discomfort, and frustration-and his quitting-were in response to the same kind of troubles Eddy faced in his first days. And Eddy was still going.

He had more paddling and onshore experiences on the lower river, including a confrontation with two armed Mississippi rednecks, when he had to use the revolver he had brought along for protection. The wild turbulence around wing dams tested him again and again, as did dodging barge trains and the wind. I won’t reveal the ending, whether Harris enjoyed a Thanksgiving turkey in New Orleans or not. If he did make it, though, you can easily estimate that he covered some 2,500 miles in about 50 days, i.e. 50 miles a day. Not bad for an amateur.

Mississippi Solo was Harris’s first book. He has written several more since, and has become a recognized and respected American writer. In this book he shares his interest in history and culture, and especially in people, with reflections while he travels. Really the book is mostly about his thoughts and feelings, and I had to dig out the canoe trip information. He presents his thinking in abstract, careful language that often makes you stop and reflect. His comments on race in America and his own feelings in the matter are enlightening. He can also convey exactly how real people talk, my favorite being the exchanges he and his brother Tommy had as Tommy realized what a canoe trip on the Mississippi involved.

This is a book that you can enjoy on several different levels.

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Mississippi Solo: A River Quest, Harris, Eddy L., 1988, Harper and Row Publishers, 250 pp.