Life on the Mississippi

Two Santa Maria men, Leonard Deaton, 65, and Les DeGeus, 64, have set out on what some would consider the voyage of a lifetime.

And they've done it nearly every year for the past 15 years.

The two are canoeing their way down the Mississippi River, a few weeks and a few miles at a time.

I'm a big Mark Twain fan,” said Deaton, who has retired three times: from the U.S. Navy Reserve as a commander, the U.S. Civil Service with the Navy and the state of California after teaching at Cal Poly and Cal State. He's currently a part time math and statistics lecturer at Cal Poly. After reading Twain's “Life on the Mississippi,” an 1883 memoir detailing his days as a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi, Deaton decided it was something he had to see for himself.

That was in 1992.

Almost every year since then, Deaton, his stepbrother DeGeus, who retired from the U.S. Postal Service after a 40-year career, and a variety of family members and friends have headed down the Mississippi River. They've only missed a couple of years: once opting instead for a trip to Hawaii, once skipping because the river was badly flooded.

The 2,300-mile-long river is the longest and largest in North America. Its river basin, or watershed, extends from the Allegheny Mountains to the Rockies, and it includes parts of 31 states and two Canadian provinces - the equivalent of 40 percent of the United States and an eighth of the North American continent.

So it's easy to see why Deaton and DeGeus are captivated by it.

Deaton and DeGeus, who grew up separately in Iowa but have both lived in Santa Maria since they were teenagers, enlist at least one other person to join them each year so that while two paddle down the river, another can drive alongside it, meeting the paddlers at marked spots.

They start their yearly trip from Santa Maria, as they drive across country to the mighty Mississippi - sometimes in a pickup, sometimes in an RV - with their canoe strapped to the top of their vehicle.

This year, they took a pickup and stayed in motels as they traveled down the river.

Their trips usually last about three weeks, and typically take place in May or June, before mosquito season is in full swing, and they typically paddle 12 to 20 miles per day.

“When we were younger we were doing 25 to 30 miles a day,” said DeGeus. “We're really in no hurry, we just want to see it.”

They don't plan their trip too much in advance, but take each day as it comes, constantly checking the weather - via television and radio reports, as well as online and by cell phone - to avoid getting on the water if there's a chance of rain or wind. They usually encounter at least three days of weather delays on their trips, which give them a chance to explore the local area on land instead of by water.

In 1992, they started their voyage at the Mississippi River's headwaters in Lake Itasca, Minn. According to the U.S. Geological Survey, the headwaters reach almost 500 miles to St. Anthony Falls in Minneapolis, passing through spruce swamps, natural lakes, extinct glacial lake beds, rapids and dams.

“It's real wilderness,” Deaton said of the surroundings they faced in Minnesota. “Just you and animals and the weather.”

And the Mighty Mississippi doesn't exactly live up to its reputation in those parts. They first put their canoe into a waterway that was about 11 yards wide and one foot deep, said Deaton. The river meandered so much that he remembers paddling by a landmark bridge or tree only to return to it two hours later.

On the very first trip, DeGeus had to call Search and Rescue out when Deaton and his wife didn't make it to the bridge where DeGeus was waiting for them. Although DeGeus was able to call them on the CB radio they had in the canoe, but they weren't able to respond.

Deaton and DeGeus are still unsure of how they got off course.

“I think he had the wrong bridge,” said Deaton. “He might disagree.”

“I had the right bridge,” DeGeus insisted.

Eventually, the pair developed their own system of navigation: They would still their canoe and study the plants underwater to see which way they flowed, to ensure they were traveling downstream.

“We don't need it anymore,” he said of the navigation system they used in the Minnesota wilderness. The area they're now navigating is well mapped and heavily trafficked by barges and boats.

Plus, since 1992 when they started their voyage, technology has made it easier and more comfortable. Today, instead of a CB radio, they're outfitted with cell phones, GPS devices and digital cameras.

Deaton and DeGeus recently returned from their annual trip, for which they “put in” at Savanna, Ill. , and “took out” at East Moline, Ill., placing them in the midst of the Upper Mississippi River section, which flows about 900 miles from St. Anthony Falls in Minneapolis to the mouth of the Ohio River at Cairo, Ill.

In this section of the river, their canoe shares the huge expanse of water with barges, tugboats, showboats and privately owned vessels.

So far, they've traveled through about 15 locks that allow them to cross the river's dams. In all, there are 29 locks on the river's upper portion that are maintained by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Canoe paddlers are usually forced to wait in line - sometimes for more than two hours - to go down the locks as barges and other boats clear the way.

In addition to other boats, wildlife sightings are common on the river. Deaton recalls counting as many as 40 bald eagles in the Minnesota wilderness, along with deer, turtles and some kind of fresh water seals. They encountered what they think were wolverines that gave them a scare by diving in the water and swimming toward them rather than backing off like most of the wildlife they came across.

They've also explored the history along the banks of the Mississippi. “So much history on the river,” said DeGeus, noting that each town they discover is unique. The role the river plays in the cities along its banks is still very apparent. In Minnesota, they visited an old fur trading post that served as a meeting place for people from all over the country. This year, they stayed in a hotel in Guttenberg, Iowa, that was once a button factory that made buttons from clamshells dug from the bottom of the river.

In Dubuque, Iowa, they toured a shot tower that mined lead from the river to produce shot for shotgun shells. They also visited the National Mississippi River Museum in Dubuque, where they watched a video of a helicopter tour of the river.

“We saw from the air where we'd been,” said Deaton. “The terrain was unmistakable.”

And the people they've encountered along the way have become part of the memories they've collected and the stories they tell.

“People were helpful to us,” said Deaton, remembering a couple in the Minnesota wilderness who gave them a ride back to their car when they got off course on a cold fall evening. Last year, Deaton docked in someone's yard on the banks of the river when the wind picked up, and asked a man who was mowing his lawn if he could wait there, call his driver, and have him pick him up there. The man had a better idea. He reached into his pocket, gave Deaton his keys, and told him to go meet his driver and come back for the canoe.

Such incidents explain why DeGeus delights in the very act of traveling. Meeting new people and exploring new places all keep him coming back, he said.

For Deaton, the magic is in being on the river.

“There's sometimes when you're out there on the river and it's so peaceful it's like a mystical experience,” said Deaton of his favorite moments on the river.

Deaton and DeGeus have come about 860 miles, so far.

According to the U.S. Geological Survey, the next section of the river they'll hit is the Lower Mississippi, which stretches from Cairo, Ill., to the Head of Passes, near New Orleans in the Gulf of Mexico.

“I used to think I wanted to finish it,” said Deaton. “I don't know if we're going to live long enough to finish it. But we're going to keep doing it.”

Features writer Emily Welly can be reached at 739-2220 or by e-mail at ewelly@santamariatimes .com.