Morning came without fog, and having packed everything possible the day before, it only took a few minutes to tear the tent down and get everything ready to go. Between the dry conditions and the protection from the trees, the tent was bone dry. I had one lock to go through, and wished I could keep the rope dry, just to make it easier for us to handle everything at the end. It wasn’t a big deal, but a hundred feet of rope, wet, dropped down on you from up on top of the lock, makes for a little bit of a slimy mess, as the walls of the lock are covered with a gray-green muck.
Excited about reaching the finish line, I was on the move at 7:30, and it would turn out to be a good decision, as it took until noon to get to the Point, and that was when I had hoped to arrive. Along the way, I watched a woman in a small motorboat coaching scullers. She bid me good morning through her bullhorn, and I returned the greeting with my big mouth. I passed mammoth homes on the water, places you certainly couldn’t call camps. One was just being built, and they were working on the boat launch. They were using one of those small front end loaders, and I made sure it was in the picture I took of the house, so I could truthfully prove I had seen a Bobcat.
As I passed the Fox Chapel Yacht Club, I was impressed at the extent people go to for comfort, when money’s no object. I saw a double-decker party boat with a canvas top on the upper deck, and two ceiling fans under it, in case the guests broke a sweat. That was not far from the satellite dish, and the curved sliding board from the top deck into the water.
I was pleasantly surprised when I paddled into the lock at #2, when the lockmaster told me since I was in the lock all alone, if I didn’t want to, I could dispense with the holding rope. It was like a gift, meaning it would be dry to the end, or so I thought. The gates opened, and I prepared for the last stretch of river. Jeremy Jackson had told me the river would be choppy at the very end, but it sounded like he meant the last couple hundred yards, as the two rivers converged to create the third. I wasn’t ready to face a two foot chop for six miles, but that’s what I got, along with about a 10 MPH headwind. I tend to watch the water a lot in this case, as it’s the only way you know you’re moving. It feels like you’re paddling in fudge upstream, but amazingly, you move along every bit as fast as in calmer water. I never claimed to know anything about this stuff, I just keep putting….well, you know.
I was so happy and proud and got a lump in my throat when I got my first glimpse of the US Steel building, because I had felt all along, when I saw that, I knew I was going to achieve my goal, and it wasn’t far away. I took a photo, but later, when I saw the picture, I was a little sad, because the tossing of the waves had bumped the Steel building out of the frame just as I snapped the shutter.
I was going under the increasing number of bridges that cross the river in Pittsburgh, but I’d given up trying to keep track of them, and snap them singly. I saw a group of kayakers coming my way, and at first was tickled to see them. I got a lot less tickled when I found out they were a bunch of kids in rental boats, and they’d never been in one before. There were some 50 of them I’d estimate, and they had no clue how to paddle, steer, stop, or get out of the way. I hit the brakes once, managing to avoid a girl who apologized, but right after that, two girls side by side rammed me, both with looks of horror on their faces. I couldn’t help wondering if they were having fun. Out on the water in a chop like that, I guessed it was a good idea to someone weeks ago when they signed everybody up to rent the kayaks, but the guides were probably saying prayers that the kayaks made it through.
I pulled in at a marina to get out of the water and wind, to put on the lucky hat and a Steeler T-shirt. With the temperature in the 80s, I couldn’t wear the hat too long. People had signed the inside of the headband, and I’d end up with a forehead tattoo. More bridges, more bridges, and a cascading waterfall dotted with folks reading, relaxing, and in general enjoying the beautiful morning. It was about that time I spied Kim pushing her Mom in a wheelchair, along the river walkway. She saw me, waved, and pointed toward the Point. A feeling of great relief came over me, and I got misty-eyed once again. I really hoped I’d keep it together at the end. I moved out into the middle of the river, to get a little closer to the Point as I paddled through the end, and be able to better see when I’d made it to the Ohio, so I could turn around and get out of the water.
Soon after seeing Kim, I saw Bev and Mark & Kelly Nord, the angels who brought Bev downtown, making their way along the walkway to the kayak launch. They had a large Welcome sign, and their new puppy, Ellie Mae. They were doing chauffeur duty for Michael and Brianne Braunstein, who had volunteered for the job, but were called away for Bree’s cousin Shannon’s 30th surprise birthday party, which in my mind, was every bit as important as a beat up kayak with an old guy in it.
I climbed out of the Murlene at 12:30, with hugs and kisses all around. I met Kim’s Mom, called my brothers to let them know it was over and I made it, and then the celebration was cut short by the security fellows up over the hill. It seemed we were parked next to Heinz Field, and they needed to tow cars illegally parked for that night’s Pitt-Uconn football game. We got everything in the car, and the kayak on top, just as the towing began, and I never got a chance to meet Pat Vilsack, Kim’s buddy, who had tried to meet me at Washington’s Landing to paddle the last four miles with me but missed me somehow, and came down the river behind me. My support folks had the foresight to have packed a picnic lunch, which I helped them get rid of as we headed toward New Wilmington and the Nord home. My head spun as I tried to get it straight that the trip was over, and I answered questions as best I could. I took the longest shower in recent memory, trimmed nails, and shaved some of the beard. One last time, I laid out some of the gear, and washed the drybags, in preparation to return them to their rightful owners the following day. As I had paddled toward the end, I thought of the folks who had donated to Roswell, and how much it meant to help such a good cause. A thought came into my mind regarding the trip, when it occurred to me someone would no doubt ask me about my next adventure into the unknown. My answer was ready: a golf course I’d never played before.
When people ask me what I learned on the trip, I answer I learned how very much Bev loves me, and how much she believes in me, and I am more than ready to spend the rest of my life trying to pay her back for what she went through. She swallowed so much fear, for months, during not only the trip, but even in the planning stages, when her imagination conjured up some disconcerting images, as I’d talk about what was to be. She did more than I could have hoped for as a support leader, as well as taking care of everything at home, and traveling long lonely hours back and forth to and from places she’d never been before, wondering sometimes what she would find, and sometimes wondering if I’d even be where she was driving to. Days without hearing from me, having to rescue me, living in such a foreign environment for so long as I spent hundreds of hours thinking and talking about and planning and traveling back and forth to get this thing figured out as best I could. I am truly a fortunate, fortunate, man. Folks also ask me if I enjoyed the journey. To those people, I say it was a priceless experience, and in general, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Do I wish some of it could have been different? I have mixed emotions. I put on an extra bracelet for the trip: “W.W.J.D.” What would Jesus do? When it became necessary, I think I made the right one. I will always believe that.
Although I was the only body in the kayak, I was never, ever, alone. I had the thoughts and prayers of many people with me, I had St. Christopher the second half of the journey, and they all made the difference in whether I finished or not. The memories are priceless, the work was worth it. It was the adventure of my lifetime, and the feeling is amazing.
Acknowledgements
There are some folks I may or may not have mentioned in the story, that I owe special recognition. In addition to hosting the Website and blog, my brother Dave was responsible for relaying information to the blog during the trip, and in what may be the worst part, getting the journal and photos all coordinated. I am indebted to him, and I am afraid to go to our next Barkley brothers reunion, thinking what he may demand in return. Seriously, the site was a major help in the success of the fund-raiser.
In Blasdell, at First Lutheran Church, Pastor Ray Fitch and Nanci Genesse did a ton of work, not only to keep the congregation apprised of where I was, but they also boosted donations, and I can’t thank them enough.
The Westgate Inn, The Onoville Marina, Indianwaters, Eagle Rock, Bob & Becky Simpson, and Dick Orr, opened businesses and homes to me, and made the trip much easier and comfortable.
My medical team, Drs. Michael Galang, Daniel Kaczor, and Nicholas Dragonette, and Physician’s assistant, Laura DiGiulio, made me and kept me healthy and able to stand the rigors of the trip.
Mountain House treated me better than I expected, from a company 3,000 miles away. I suggest using their products for your own camping food source.
Steven Hannon and Theresa Ford, of Roswell Cancer Institute, were outstanding contacts during the whole process, and I enjoyed working with them to bring in as much money as possible.
Final Installment: Rick Barkley kayaked the Allegheny River from it's beginning near Gold, PA to it's end at Pittsburgh this summer. Solomon's words chronicled that trip from Rick's brief reports from the river. This is Rick's in depth journal of this adventure of a lifetime, presented in installments, as it is quite lengthy. I think you will find it very interesting. Editor.
State Sen. Joe Scarnati is the scheduled speaker for the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford Entrepreneurship luncheon Thursday.
Anonymous has provided a direct number to the Tioga Dispatch Center--570-724-7911
Thursday, December 6, 2007 8:13:00 AM EST
Reading this article does worry me. We had a terrible car accident that ended up on our property. The driver was killed and two small children hurt.
Myself and my two grandchildren were the only ones home at the time. Shinglehouse ambulance was great and dispatch time also. But, had we not been able to get through it would have been unthinkable what we would have had to indure.
My suggestion, learn the members of your local fire and ambulance crew, write their numbers down and keep by the phone. If all else fails, one of them will surely be available to alert other members or sound their firehouse siren.
Thursday, December 6, 2007 9:06:00 AM EST