Our friends at Ocean Paddlesports, Patrick and DeAnne Hemmens, who expect to be back on October 9th, have donated a Fenn Mako XT, designed by Patrick and Keith Fenn, and seen here with a double footwell:

I’m not sure if the one we’ve been donated has a double or single footwell, but I am sure that someone, among you, will be happy to haul it home, following this year’s Phatwater.  Only those entering and completing the Phatwater will be eligible to win the XT, which will be drawn for, following the drawing for the Phatwater Bowie. YOU MUST BE PRESENT TO WIN the Mako XT. The drawing will take place around 4 p.m., October 9th, once the Phatwater course has been secured and all have been accounted for.

The subject of boat rentals keeps coming up, so let me pass along this information.  We have no boats for rent.  In the future, this may change, but for now the only rentals in our region I know of are all on site.  This is to say, they can only be rented from concessions in areas where they are expected to be used.

Whether the proprietors of the businesses listed below will allow their boats to be taken off site, and brought to the Phatwater, is a matter to be discussed by those wishing to rent and the businesses which own them.  We play no part in this process, we’re just giving you guys the information.

Here’s what I have for possible rentals for those interested.  Though we’d like to help, we will not be able to help in the transport any such rentals.  We are not the government.  You have to do a certain amount of the work for yourselves if you plan to be a part of our plan.

http://www.najp.org/articles/2010/05/dubuquians-wisconsonians-and-o.html

I’m not sure why WisCANsin (how I hear it pronounced by Wisconsonianites) is referred to as the “Badger” state, as, I’ve been to WisCANsin several times, and have never seen a badger.  I have seen badgers in Oklahoma, Idaho, Wyoming, and all parts in between.  When I chauffeured Adam Elliott to the headwaters of the Mississippi, at Lake Itasca (eye-TAS-kuh, and not i-TASK-uh) Minnesota, three years ago, we saw a dead badger on the streets of Hannibal, Missouri.  We did not see any remnants of Hannibal’s Alpine pachyderms, however.

But back to the records business: Years ago, although not as many years ago as my days with Wisconsonianite Dave Greenburg, I had a paddling friend from Durango, Colorado, one Andy Corra.  Andy had accomplished much in life in the world of Wildwater (Wildvasser) racing, which is downriver racing on whitewater, and at its best.  Jump to June of this past summer, which is rapidly fading.  On 28 June, at twelve noon, Andy Completed a 273 mile non-stop paddle of the Yukon, in an Epic V-12, to complete a new world record for the greatest distance ever paddled in a 24 hour period.  You can read about it here:

http://www.adventurekayakmag.com/blogs/flotsam-a-jetsam/blogs-people/1143-record-breaker-andy-corra.html

So, I called Andy on Monday.  Andy owns 4 Corners River Sports, in Durango, Colorado, where he was exceptionally adept at assisting me in parting with my money about a decade ago.  To return the favor, I have asked of Andy that he bring his carcass to Natchez, October 8th, to give the Phatwater a shot, and I think he’s planning to do so.  If we do-so, we may be in need of some one of you from the Carolina area, to transport a V-12 down here from Epic’s Aitch-Kew, in Charleston, South ‘Click’.  Volunteers?

Phatwater on the Natchez gauge, today, with no badgers present, is 30.16′, still six+ feet above last year at this time.  Not surprisingly, yesterday’s Phatwater tour went well, with Greg Jacob joining us from Ridgeland, Mississippi, and Maggie Pyle, Chris Marmande and his tandem partner Rich Wetmore joining us from Mobile.  We were able to launch just after 0700 in roller derby smooth water which turned to two-foot waves and 20+ MPH south winds below the Waterproof Grain Elevator, all the way into Natchez.  A sprung rudder (Sprung?) was giving Chris and Rich fits, and they fell behind us, stopping for a lengthy sandbar repair, and limping in two hours after we’d made the ramp, but a well earned plate of friend dill pickles (Swear-to-God) at the Magnolia Grill and a couple of chilled Coronas, with lime, after the fact, made all the injury fade into the growing humidity of an angry afternoon Sun.

Here’re a couple of shots of Maggie Pyle, in her new V-10 Sport, at the beginning and end of yesterday’s Epic tour.

Maggie Pyle at the Slack Water Port of Grand Gulf

Maggie at the ramp, Under-The-Hill

All For Now-KB

We were not without our own wind situation yesterday, on our trip up to Rifle Point.  Although I hadn’t an anemometer on hand, handheld, I can say with some experience that we experienced a typical blow-up of 20-25+ mile per hour winds and whitecaps out of the east.  In fact, the wind was so significant, on our return, the 90th W meridian was blown across the state and under our boat, snagging on our rudder as it passed beneath us, and almost flipping us at sunset.  Quick action on Melissa’s part prevented us from absolute catastrophe, however, and we were able to arrive safely at the ramp, drenched not from the great Muddy, but from the sweat of our toil.

At this time I would like to add to the confusion concerning hotel accommodations for this year.  The Natchez Grand Hotel, which is situated on the Bluff, about two blocks upstream from Natchez Under-The-Hill, now has rooms available.  The Church Convention has had their block released, and we have been granted it.  There is a Phatwater Rate available, though I am not certain at this time what it is.  I am attaching the contract that was sent to me yesterday.  You should be able to view it, but if not, I will post the rates later.  I have to meet with their representative tomorrow.  Just know that the Natchez Grand is the site of the SHUTTLE the morning of the race.  There will be plenty of parking available at the Natchez Grand, for those arriving for the shuttle from parts beyond.  Here is the Word File containing the info:

Phat Water

If you have any questions, as always, call us.

All For Now-KB

Not so here.  As brutal as things were two weeks ago in the Miss-Lou, this past week provided and continues to provide ideal weather.  Wednesday we’ll be making a Phull Phat run, beginning at daylight, with a couple of others, so we can check out the port and upriver conditions. Although we aren’t paddling for time, we expect the water to be swift.  Perhaps a video moment or two will be the result.

Here are a couple of shots taken by Phatwater Veteran Don Chesler, M.D., in Oklahoma City, at the U.S. Olympic facility on the North Canadian River, which, apparently has been renamed the “Oklahoma River”.  Hopefully we can recruit some of this talent.  Don will be here shooting this year’s Phatwater for those wishing to have a pro-quality shot.  We’ll be uploading them to our SmugMug account where purchases can be made, following the race.

All For Now-KB

-or-

A REVIEW OF THINGS THAT SEEM NOT TO GO TOGETHER

A large breasted woman with a surgically enhanced ‘Texas Hold’em’ nose and teeth the color of poached egg whites was yammering away on a national news program the other evening. She spoke with conviction, casting wide her Military-Chic in a  knock-off  U.S. Air Force flight suit, olive drab, open to the navel.  Her hands were sweeping about in the fashion of fighter pilots the world over, carving one under the other in parabolic rolls and dives, her journalist’s eyes clicking side to side like twin cues traveling coaxial tangents across the verdant felt of an ornately carved snooker table.  Frequent cutaways to roving video reportage of angry protesters offered stark evidence of the topic she was advancing: the “Ground Zero Mosque”.

The panel guest to the right of her cleavage was deeply introspective. He seemed genuinely “concerned”, gripping his chin between manicured nails which, if they didn’t reflect anything else, at least gave evidence to the viewing public of just how far he’d come.  He was a dandy looking fellow, old enough to be his co-host’s grandfather, though clearly fantasizing he was her prom date.

The moderator, with patronizing tone, kept tossing his pencil into a gainer, snatching it, mere millimeters before it speared the desktop, rolling his eyes at every statement either guest offered. I was vaguely curious, though I hadn’t a clue what was being said by any of them.  I was viewing the proceedings en mute.

En mute is probably how the working people of this nation should approach any broadcast these days.  Instead of pacifiers, at birth we should all be issued a universal remote.  It should be attached to us.  It could be miniaturized. It could be installed in our . . . navel. Out of the way.

Think of it. We’re all placentals.  We all have a navel.  Our navels make us equal, in the eyes of God.  A mute button, in our navels, would be a perfect solution to lint buildup.

“The objectives of this administration are to further the goals we have thus far . . .” Click.  A welcome belly rub.  The only people for whom it would be a problem would be the legions of young black men I see these days, struggling to hold their pants ‘just so’, as they stroll the boulevards with their beltlines settled just below their buttocks.

I’m thinking mostly of politicians, though, when I speak of the navel mute.  I regard politicians with the same fervor I regard intestinal parasites.  Sooner or later, they should all be subjected to the plunge of the toilet handle.

Some politicians are caught up in the “Ground Zero Mosque” question.  Some obviously care. And I should care that they care.  I shouldn’t be so insensitive as to not care, because I am, after all, a very caring person.  So, here’s my thought on the issue.  I say, let them build their mosque.  And I also say, let some enterprising Protestant or Catholic or Atheist or non-Orthodox Jewish businessman put up a Bar-B-Que stand, right next door.

We’ve got a great Bar-B-Que, right here in Natchez, called the Pig-Out-Inn.  I bet they’d like to branch out, earn their chunk of New York City change.  If the Mosque-itoes want a mosque, at Ground Zero, I say, let’em have it.  Right next to the twice-smoked, pulled pork special, with cole slaw and white bread!  And mushrooms! Don’t forget the mushrooms!  Because, there’s only so mushroom for mosques, but there’s always room for the other white meat!  What better way could there be to reach out to our Muslim brothers and sisters?  Ah, the aroma of congeniality surrounded by the savory smell of  hickory smoked swine!

Phatwater on the Natchez gauge, today is 31.34′, up almost 8 feet from a year ago.

Ed Joy has family commitments this year which will prevent his return, although from the looks of the Chicago Shoreline lineup, Mike Herbert is well again, so we hope to have Mike join us once more.

Dawid Mocke took first place in Chicago, and we’re hopeful he will be able to pay us a visit. Patrick Hemmens took 5th, with Erik Borgnes 6th and Carter Johnson 7th, all of whom will be at this year’s Phatwater.  DeAnne Hemmens placed 10th overall in Chicago, behind Mike Herbert in 9th.

Dawid also took first in the U.S. Surfski Championships a week ago, again outrunning the New York Mayor’s Cup winner for the past two years, Sean Rice.  Results for U.S. Surfski and Chicago Shoreline can be seen here:

http://www.ussurfski.com/info2008/racedetails.shtml

http://www.chicagoshorelinemarathon.com/results-09.html

Time To Register Boys and Girls. Go.  Do.

All For Now-KB

You can view Matt and Justin’s exploits here:

http://www.lmrk.org/issues/mighty-missislick-expedition/mighty-missislick-expedition.html

You can also get one of these cool stickers of theirs at this years Phatwater, WHILE THEY LAST.

They began their journey 37 days ago with a third partner; someone named Dave, but Dave, apparently, is no longer with them.  Or, as two marijuana representatives of past fame were once fond of saying, long before Up In Smoke, “Dave’s not here. . .”

PHATWATER REGISTRATION IS NOW OPEN

If you plan to paddle the Phatwater this year, please go to the site, now, and register online.  We ask that you not wait until the day before to register, but that you do so online, now.  It will make everything easier, on everyone.  You will still sign your waiver and pick up your packet on Friday the 8th, at the Under-The-Hill Saloon, but we need your registration and payment (Google Checkout) before this time.  Be sure to have your ACA membership # with you when you go online, www.kayakamississippi.com , to register.  If you are an ACA member and do not supply your ACA #, you will have to pay the additional fee of $5 for non-ACA insurance.

If you absolutely cannot (can’t imagine why?) or will not (can’t imagine what your problem is?) register until Saturday morning, it’s going to cost you double.  Why? Because allowing you to register the morning of the race is a huge PAIN IN THE ASS.

If you still demand to register on Saturday morning, you’ll meet some of our demands as well.  You will be issued a special, blaze orange PFD  (Phatwater Freestyle Diaper), made entirely from a recycled oil containment boom, which you will be required to wear, in addition to your own PFD, for the duration of the race and the party to follow.  This will allow everyone else who plays by the rules to identify those of you who think you’re so damn special.

If you can’t show up until the morning of the race, we understand, and this is fine.  You can sign your waiver at the put-in, and get your boat # at this time, but there’s no reason you can’t register online, in advance, and we expect you to do so if you don’t wish to be penalized and diapered.

And just remember this, we’re here to have a good time.  So, have it MY way!

Time to, Put on my sailing shoes,

All For Now-KB

Our remaining prize structure hasn’t yet been entirely graphed because we are in the midst of fundraising for this year’s race, but there will be cash awards for top finishers in all categories.  Come one, come all.

Erik Borgnes, absent from last year, will be returning to challenge his past sub-IV 2008 performance of 3:56:00, though it is uncertain at this point if Mike Herbert (3:46:41-2009) will be present to stir the pot, as an injury in a motorcycle race this summer has him hobbling.

We expect to see veterans Eric Mims (3:51:29) and Joe Glickman (3:52:38), along with Mark Anich (3:58:49), although Ed Joy, who shattered the existing solo record last year, with a first year inaugural time of 3:46:39, is hanging in the balance.  Ed has relocated to Hawaii, I’m told, and there may be logistical tripwires in his path.

New to this year’s field of top racers will be Carter Johnson, winner of countless solo long distance efforts, and I’m hammering the Hemmenses to drag Dawid Mocke along, who was in country last week for the New York Mayor’s cup, along with former Olympian Phillipe Bocarra.  Dawid placed third overall in the Mayor’s cup, where Boccara and Glicker placed 8th and 12th, respectively.  Eric Mims also had a fine showing at 14th.  Not bad for world level paddling, guys.

Brad Pennington, another highly regarded marathon champion from Houston, Texas, and current record holder in the Yukon River Quest, at 44:14 (that’s 44 Hours and 14 Minutes) is also expected to be present for this year’s paddle feathering at the starting line on the morning of October 9th.  Oscar Chalupsky, I’ve just been notified, will be in Germany, at a “show”, and can’t make it this year.  Germany.  October. Copious quantities of beer.  State sponsored debauchery.  Who could blame him?

On to other things.  One of our long time supporters, NYTIMES bestselling author Greg Iles, is just before releasing his next title:  “Unwritten Laws”, with the return of Penn Cage, superhero from last year’s title, The Devil’s Punchbowl. Stand by for more action.

Speaking of terrific Southern writers, there’s a favorite of the Phatwater from North Carolina named Clyde Edgerton (Floatplane Notebooks, Raney, Walking Across Egypt, Lunch At The Piccadilly) who spoke highly of yet another terrific writer, from Mississippi, named Larry Brown.  It was once suggested to me that, “People from Mississippi don’t read books, they write them. . .”

So be it.  Larry Brown’s work shouldn’t be overlooked by anyone who finds inspiration among the fringes of humanity. If Clyde Edgerton’s work (The Bible Salesman, 2008) invites one to laugh, Larry Brown’s work invites one to cringe.

Though accolades for Larry Brown’s literary talent are considerable, his audience may fall far short of the numbers enjoyed by a Stephen King or Michael Chrichton. But following his death in November of 2004, many new fans of “Grit Lit” were awakened to Brown’s genius, and it is unfortunate that his life was so short. I urge you to pick up Brown’s trail when searching for modern American realism.  Reading Larry Brown is like chewing gum with carpet tacks.  For those seeking the type of security that says, “Thank God it was him and not me. . .”,  Larry Brown’s work is simply brilliant.  The first time I read Larry Brown, I picked up one of those short story collections, Best Of from Algonquin, from some obscure year, in which Brown’s short story Samaritans was featured.  I won’t give you more than that, but in reading Samaritans, I was hooked.

I would be hard pressed to name a “favorite”, although Father And Son wouldn’t be a bad jumping off point, after you burn your way through Samaritans. And I do mean burn, because it’s set in Mississippi, in August.

Both Edgerton and Brown have a great Southern literary voice, although I’m not sure there is such a thing as a “great Southern literary voice”. It seems any literary voice of note is worthy of inclusion in a category of Great American Literary Voice, regardless of the geography from which it springs.

Shifting gears again, here’s a link for the Hampton Inn, in Natchez, where we have a block of rooms set aside for Phatwater paddlers.

http://www.hamptoninn.com/en/hp/hotels/index.jhtml?ctyhocn=NATCZHX

The Natchez Grand Hotel, about which many of you have asked, is currently booked solid with a rather large contingent of some sort of Church Conventioneers.  I don’t know if these guys are construction folk, whose profession involves building churches, or if they are Fried Chicken Franchise Executives.  By way of explanation of that last, there was a news story which circulated five years ago, in the aftermath of Katrina, in which a New Orleanian was interviewed by a news team from the great frozen north, and in which the questioning fell to this level:

Q: “I understand that many of the Churches in the area have been severely damaged.  How do you think the locals will cope with this?”

A: “Well, I can’t speak for nobody else, but I likes my chicken from Popeyes.”

Yeah? Well what about Corndogs?

Phatwater on the Natchez gauge today is a sweltering 30.56′, seven feet above this date a year ago.

All For Now-KB

The prickly pear cactus were so thick we had to walk on stilts, and whenever we paused to take a break under a shade tree, there were so many javelina rooting through the greasewood we had to wear shin guards, and there were so many rattlesnakes, the Javelina had to wear ear plugs and walk upright, piggybacked five high, to preserve the integrity of the herd.

We were hunting turkeys at the time. My job was to shoot video footage of Rio Grande Gobblers, strutting to fake sounds emanating from cedar boxes, manufactured by rednecks from parts unknown with a passion for drumsticks and the call of the wild. Our guide was a guy from Lansing, Michigan, named Luther. Luther stilted ahead of us in a bent posture, reminiscent of Quasimodo. I never actually “met” Quaismodo, since he lived during a previous century, and was a fictional character, so when I say Luther stilted through the prickly pear and blackjack oak strewn hillsides like Quasimodo, I’m characterizing mostly from rumor and imagination, but “bent stilting” makes for a strong, if not unique image, and we’re all about unique at the Phatwater, so just ride with me on this one.

You may be wondering about a guy named Luther from Lansing, Michigan, guiding turkey rustlers through Texas prickly pear, and I don’t blame you. I mean, if I were contracting somebody to separate me from my cash so I could cover my ankles with permethrin and my face with greasepaint while he clucked up a lovesick, Lone Star, bald headed roadrunner on steroids for me to blast with toxic lead pellets, I’d expect him not to speak very often, but to speak with a ten-gallon drawl when he did.

“Turns out,” Luther told me, “round here, if a man’s gonna talk a turkey into a skillet, he’s gonna hafta talk Texas twang. Occupational necessity.”

Luther, I’m convinced, could have lied his way into the Texas State Senate with the best of politicians, should he have chosen this path.

Later that day, the box calling redneck from parts unknown drew down on a long-bearded turkey in a glade of crimson clover and removed him from the population. I caught it all on Betacam SP. The redneck was giddy with pleasure over his video captured skill as a nimrod of evolving fame. We met some time later with his wife, who at the time was being guided toward another gobbler by Luther. We were far from camp, where I had a playback machine, but the redneck wanted to show his wife the footage of his accomplishment. Could I not, he asked me, show his spouse the footage, through the camera?

“Yes,” I told him. “But it would be better to wait until we returned to camp.”

“No, I want her to see it now!”
“I want to see it now!” his lovely wife echoed. She was not wearing greasepaint. She had ladled a great deal of Mary Kay onto her cheeks, and it, along with her mascara, had begun to run in the late evening south Texas heat. She was rich. He was rich. They had sold a good number of cedar box turkey calls. They were in the habit of calling the shots.

“Okay,” I said. We were driving up a dusty stretch of road as I punched the rewind button to back up the tape and show her. Owls were beginning to hoot, coyotes were at choir practice, the setting sun had that aura of a ripe cantelope resting on the western edge of the planet.
“Well lookey yonder,” Luther said. There, just ahead, on the side of the road, were two enormous Rio Grande gobblers, strutting face to face, their wingtips dragging through the dust. One jumped up in the air, flapping like a . . . turkey. The other followed suit. They circled each other, gobbling, throwing their heads forward, necks outstretched.
Luther ground the van to a halt.
“Git the camer’ Git out!” the redneck from parts unknown shouted at me. “Git to fi’mming. Git it on tape!”
I jumped out, hit the high-gain switch, and began rolling tape. The two turkeys continued to strut and jump and flap, gobbling all the while. They looked like Sumo Wrestlers. The looked like beach balls. They looked like two black Volkswagon Beetles, 1967 models, with their doors wide open. I kept rolling film. Right over the top of the footage I’d shot earlier of the redneck from parts unknown, and his considerable accomplishment that was certain to skyrocket him to fame in the world of rednecks  from parts unknown game-call manufacturers.

I’ve made some other mistakes since then. My most recent mistake was to tell you all that we now have registration for the Phatwater through Regatta Central all ready to go. Well, we don’t. It didn’t work out. There is no online registration at this time.

But. By tomorrow, perhaps, certainly by the end of the week, Allen Hancock, Phatwater Veteran and able Macintosh Hero from Baton Rouge, with the aid of Jeremy Smith at Rare Design in Hattiesburg, will have us up and running with a new registration page on the KayakMississippi website. It’s what we’ve hoped to accomplish, all along, and it will be most ex, we hope. Just bear with us, and bear me no malice. Because, I’m sure I’ll make other mistakes. Because, if I don’t, I’m not trying hard enough.

Adam Elliott and Allen Hancock on the Phatwater, near the powerline, on Saturday’s Halph-Phat

Phatwater on the Natchez gauge today is 32.38′.

All For Now-KB

Not to sound like a hypocrite. I’m no saint. I’ve engaged in my share of carbon joyriding. I remember, back in the day, calling in airstrikes from F-4 Phantoms and A-4 Skyhawks, ignoring the state of  the planet.  I wasn’t concerned about the ecology of the Mojave at the time.  I was concerned about time-on-target, mixing 500 lb. H.E.s and Napalm in the same recipe.  Shake & Bake, danger close. It was pure joy to watch the desert erupt in showers of C-4 pulverized dust clouds and torn steel at a detonation velocity of 23,000 feet per second.  What a rush. Blowing things up is cool.  Especially when the taxpayer is footing the bill.

“I don’t make policy, Sarge.  I make jello.”

Lately, I’ve been wondering about that.  I’ve wondered about whether or not the nation’s military jello surplus could have been used in some way to stop the BP Deepwater Horizon leak.  I wonder if today’s fighting men and women are still being served jello, and if so, if they are also not eating it.  I’ve wondered a great deal about what became of past uneaten jello, or what becomes of the present uneaten jello, by the American fighting men and women (and transgender prospects currently in uniform, not asking and not telling).

I wonder whatever became of Corporal Osborne?  I wonder if, perhaps, he threw in the apron and decided to go to law school.  University of Wisconsin, maybe.  I wonder if he’s making policy now?  Or, maybe he’s still a chef, perhaps on an offshore oil rig, somewhere in the Gulf.  Where, if he is, he’s probably doing more good than those BP bastards.

On to something of greater importance.  We now have registration set up with Regatta Central.  I know there’s been a lot of back and forth on this, Regatta Central one moment, then Active.com the next, and then back to Regatta Central, and, y’all, it’s really boring, and tedious, and you don’t want to know the details, so let’s leave it at that.

And I know there are going to be some things to iron out, with Regatta Central, but they’ve been a pleasure to work with, so far, and we are intent on riding the wave with them.  So, if you get to the registration and are having any trouble, just call us or email us and we’ll help you along the way.  Because I know there are going to be issues.   The waiver, for example, on the Regatta Central site, CANNOT be used by Phatwater personnel.  Ours has to come through the ACA, and I’m working on that as soon as I finish this load of fish, but know now, good citizens and stewards of the planet, that as of Sunday, we will have online registration.  Just go to kayakmississippi.com and “get some”.

Call if you have problems.  We won’t put you on hold, and we won’t serve you jello.

(601) 431-1731, (601) 807-1216

All For Now-KB

Phatwater on the Natchez gauge today is a 37.69′.  Here’s a link to Phatwater Bowie Photos, on Facebook, showing some additional detail.  Tickets are $50 apiece.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=242049&id=157857842782&saved

We’ve been asked to open a Paypal Account so people can purchase the tickets online, wiht a few clicks. This is a great idea; however, with only a limited number of tickets available (120), doing so would make keeping up with sales next to impossible.  And we rely on the exclusivity of the Phatwater Bowie, and a limited number of tickets, to promote its value and rarity as a piece of collectable art.   I wish this weren’t the case and that we had an unlimited budget and audience, but we don’t.

If you’d like a Phatwater Bowie Raffle Ticket, send us the funds the old fashioned way:

Checks Payable to:

We are actively trying to open an Active.com account for registration.  Tay Stuned.