Washed up with old friends. Mile 580.

My straw hat just went airborne.  Hit the beach and started rolling.  I darted after it. Pinning it to the sand a few hundred feet away.  Forty mile per hour gusts. Highs in the 80’s.  For four days.  It’s times like this I wish I was in a sailboat, heading north. 

Sunrise, Mile 591.

Any hopes of progressing down river all but stopped Saturday.  Only now, after thunderstorms swept through late last evening, can we move again.

Normally wind storms would mean sandy days inside our nylon shelters, but as luck would have it two old friends from school in Maine moved to the southeastern corner of the natural state earlier this year.  They opened their new home to us  as a place to wait out the storms. It’s been wonderful to reconnect with them in such a different place.

Back to the river.

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About banksofthebasin

Brett grew up in South Jersey, moved to the coast of Maine to study human ecology, and then spent a year traveling on rivers around the world—from the frozen arctic to the mangroves of south Asia. Before setting out on Banks of the Basin he baked bread in Pittsburgh and kayaked the beautiful rivers of central Appalachia.
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