In late May 2003, Todd Siefker and I pushed our sixteen-and-a-half-foot, cherry red Bell Canoe Works canoe into the Missouri River at Fort Benton, Montana.  From there (the traditional head of Missouri River steamboat traffic) we planned on canoeing all the way to Sioux City, Iowa, a total river distance of 1,344 miles.  Oh, it was a grand, bold, and in hindsight, absolutely unrealistic, plan.  But we were confident in our skills as outdoorsmen, in prime physical condition, and neither one of us was tied down by a mortgage, a cubicle job, or any dependent children.  In our minds, the trip appeared not only possible – but also incredibly adventurous.  As a matter of fact, it was going to be a blast, a hoot, a hell of a lot of fun.  Tackling hundreds of miles of winding, capricious river and six of the world’s largest reservoirs – no problem.  Confronting rain, wind, cold, and heat – no problem.  Facing the possibility of death by drowning, injury by odd accident, or a bullet wound from an armed, xenophobic, rural Montanan – no problemo.  We’d deal with the challenges as they arose.  We’d overcome, we’d make it to goddamn Sioux City (or as only those with roots there have a right to call it – Sewer City).  We’d arrive in that cow town triumphant, modern-day explorers – heralded by the local media as men of daring. Continue Reading »