This summer, we paddled out of Cairo, Illinois, and caught the rising edge of a long, slow-moving wave—an ultra low-frequency swell rising from a wet Midwest summer—and rode its curling crest 688 miles downstream to St. Francisville, Louisiana.

Along the way, we met with the River’s wild soul.

We called this expedition Rivergator 2025, a continuation of our ongoing effort to update the Rivergator Paddler’s Guide—and to re-listen, re-learn, and re-witness what the Lower Mississippi River reveals when you slow down and live by its rhythms.

What’s changed since our last full descent in 2017? What hasn’t? What’s growing, receding, migrating, building, breaking, and awakening? With paddles in the water and eyes open, we set out to find out.

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Surfing a 688-Mile Long Wave

We launched July 16th with two canoes: the 27’6” Ladybug and the 18'6" Mad River Canoe, Keith Kirkland. The Mississippi had entered a slow summer rise—medium flow, around 3–5 knots—and we rode it like a wave, not in the beachy sense, but in the great continental swell of moving water through deep time.

The days brought heat—relentless triple digits at times—but the River, cool and dependable, offered sweet relief. Shade under willow groves. Sponge baths and mid-channel swims. One-a-day watermelons (sometimes two). And at every pull-out: stories written in sand, root, and ripple.

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At Tunica Hills, we pulled over beneath phantasmagoric cliffs wrapped in jungle vines. Here, the earth looks alive and listening.

At Hardscrabble, near mile 397, we found big turbulence—v-lines of racing water, giant swirling eddies blooming either side.

Scenes from the Journey

Each day brought a new marvel, a fresh astonishment. Below are just a few of the natural wonders we encountered:

• The Chickasaw Bluffs — monumental outcroppings, ancient and layered, seen from mid-channel.

• Seven Oaks Island — where we found a giant, empty beaver lodge, likely abandoned after the 2025 high water.

• Tunica Hills — towering cottonwoods and 200-ft pines growing from ravines, a cold spring bubbling at the base of a cypress, fresh and drinkable.

• L’Argent & Waterproof Islands — crawling with young crawdads, dead and alive, dotting the sandy dunes.

• Palmyra Chute — abuzz with busy honeybees working purple ground mimosa.
  
  
• Davis Island — home to an egret rookery and flocks of cliff swallows.
  
  
• Reelfoot Lake vicinity — dozens of bald eagles circled Island No. 8.
  
  
• Morning chorus — cardinals, Carolina wrens, indigo buntings, mourning doves, and the occasional fish crow echoing through our camps.
  
  
• Skull Island — cut in half by relentless cycle of floods & droughts.
  
  
• Upper Fawn Island — gone, removed from existence by the sometimes constructive, sometimes destructive power of the river.
  
  
• Brandywine Island — large beaver patrolling backwaters, size of baby bear cub
  
  
• Choctaw Island — top end sandbar rising like the back of a whale out of the middle of the river, commands a 180 degree downstream view as you approach, wild grapes ripening and gaudy orange trumpet vine flowers in bloom

And then, one afternoon, near Little Island—the Rivergator appeared.

About three feet long, one eye gone, it surfaced midstream and approached us boldly, sidling up to the canoe. Did it see us as friends? Family? Food? Or simply a curiosity in its long day drifting?

It didn’t matter. The moment shimmered with connection—wild, raw, real. The Rivergator lives. The River lives.

Reflections in River Time

At the end of each day, Whit Smith, a summer intern from St. John’s College, pored over USACE river charts by lantern light, cross-referencing the day’s route with observations and preparing for the next. His discipline reminded us: even the wild requires witnessing, naming, remembering.

Alongside Whit were fellow expedition members Mike Beck, Ben Quaintance, Randy Jackson, and Jean Canôt—a floating community learning together, paddling together, sweating, swimming, laughing, and sharing the ancient current.

Special thanks to our shuttle team Mark River Peoples and Michael Orr, and our resuppliers Layne Logue and Peggy Pierrepont, who met us with smiles, watermelons, and lifelines.

Support came from the Lower Mississippi River Foundation, and from the River herself.

For updates highlighting the wonders of nature on the Lower Mississippi River, subscribe to River Time.

What Is Wild?

The Lower Mississippi River—industrial, channeled, overlooked by many—is still wild. Wild in its power. Wild in its subtlety. Wild in the ways it resists confinement and awakens wonder.

Every paddle stroke reminded us: the River is not just a body of water. It’s a teacher, a mirror, a memory keeper. It is rhythm and mystery, journey and home.

We’ll be sharing more dispatches from this year’s journey in the weeks to come—stories of heat survival strategies, wild island campsites, notable nature sightings, and upcoming conservation needs. Stay tuned.

Until then, may you find your own Rivergator—whatever form it takes—and may the River guide you home.

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Quapaw Canoe Company ~ Celebrating 27 Years of Service

Custom Guiding & Outfitting on the Lower Mississippi River
Winner of the SBA 2024 Small Business of the Year Award

🔗 Visit Rivergator.org

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🌊 Lower Mississippi River Foundation: lmriverfoundation.org