Paddle for Water

Perhaps impetuous, perhaps brave, Nancy can't resist ditching her job and modern-day comforts to paddle 5,000 miles across the United States to promote water conservation. Paddling roller coaster waves, camping with alligators, and dodging barges prove manageable; staving off her paddling partner's romantic intentions-not so much.

Paddle for Water recounts the wacky escapades of a "just do it" kind of gal, the guy who so often rescues her from hair-raising situations, and a relationship forged by living life with gusto. 



Paddle For Water is a travel memoir of my adventures as I test my mettle crossing the United States by canoe, voicing a message of water conservation. My companion, a skillful canoeist and outdoorsman, is a man with whom I insist on platonic relations. After paddling 5,000 miles from the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean and many harrowing adventures, he ultimately wins my heart.

Playing cat and mouse in our tiny canoe with ocean-going freighters and riding 4-foot waves on the Columbia River, the stage is set for adventure. The Snake River tries our patience with wind, storms, heat, and rapids. Our canoe breaks away, smashes into rocks, and requires major repair. After an overwintering hiatus in the Tetons when our travel corridors are frozen, we finally resume our expedition on the Yellowstone River, this time with a puppy. Sirius rides atop the gear like a riverboat queen as we zig-zag down the Yellowstone River with the snowmelt. This beautiful waterway enters the "Miserable Missouri" with its industry and commerce. Relentless wind makes for hair-raising paddling daily while nightly thunderstorms beat us into submission. Continual exertion and frazzled nerves become unbearable. After nine months of paddling and emotional exhaustion, we must leave river life, destination unrealized. The "strictly friends" paradigm fell flat as the physical and emotional trials throughout the expedition made me realize I cannot - and don't want to - live without Tom. We marry and get absorbed into mainstream society.

After eleven years of civilization, the river's beckoning becomes irresistible. The itch of unfinished business finally motivates us to leave our house, jobs, and belongings behind and become river people again. We return to the same boat ramp we departed from on the Missouri River in Atchison, Kansas. There we join spring runoff, this time as a married couple, to complete our goal. Avoiding the turbulence of what we dub the Missouri River Monster, we pour into the Mississippi River. Unlike Huck Finn, we turn off at Cairo, Illinois, onto the Ohio, where we begin an uphill climb to the Appalachian Mountains. On the Tennessee River, we sweat through a tornado watch but eventually reach the Little Tennessee where, wading waist-deep, we yank and drag and pole our canoe up the rapids until we have no more fight left. Portage by car is our only option. Once over the mountains, we descend the Savannah River where we unwittingly share campsites with alligators. Thirteen months of river life later, we paddle into the Atlantic Ocean. We ride the waves onto Tybee Island beach to a throng of cheering reporters and family. Together we toast the completion of our quest with cups of pure, clean water.