On the Missouri with Capt. Clark

Aug. 22, Stanton-Washburn (on river), E wind, 85/60—I’d just packed my bike, still not sure of a destination, when the Lewis and Clark expedition landed at Washburn's riverfront park. Actually, they were re-enactors dropping off supplies. Churchill Clark, multiple-great grandson of Capt. William, introduced himself and wasted no time inviting me to join them that day. They needed a paddler, and I couldn't say no. We drove upriver to the put-in near Stanton, and on the way they vented various frustrations with the bicentennial re-enactment.

I’d done Lewis and Clark exhibits for a couple of years in Missouri and knew some background of the dueling crews, a single group when they started in 2003. This one, led by Churchill and Scott Mandrell (the original Capt. Lewis), say they are both more authentic ("we paddle") and persona non grata at most events.

Our dugout canoes, made from ponderosa pine and cedar, carried four paddlers each. I took second position in Flying Eagle behind "Gunny," a former Marine gunnery sergeant who had the vocabulary to back up his rank. Gunny, now a gunsmith and history nut with 7,000 books in his home library, didn’t like what he called armchair historians who wrote about the expedition having no experience paddling and camping every day.

We had the advantage of current, but wind was against us, sometimes kicking up whitecaps. We paddled past 15-20 ft. banks of sediment, many recently caved in—a common phenomenon before the Missouri became an engineered waterway. Several times we grounded on sandbars across the channel.

The others were a salty bunch, also tough, skilled, and funny. Progress on the river was hard to follow with few landmarks and no river maps, but we finally saw the Washburn bridge around dinnertime. They joked about staying the night at “Jeff’s house” (the city park), since they depended almost entirely on supporters they met along the river.