The Stranded Ones

Mississippi River islands are some of the last untouched wilderness in our country. They form by a combination of the River’s natural meanders, floodwaters, and manufactured infrastructure.  During low water, the islands are typically massive deserts of hematite sand and fossil gravel beds on the top end. The middle is composed of deciduous forest along with swamps, bayous, and wetlands. And the bottom end is a protruding sandy point with a glorious tall stand of willows, like palm trees in the sand.

During Summer Camp, an observant group of students noticed a small stream-like feature pouring into the River’s main channel from somewhere deep in the middle of the island. I’ve seen such features time and time again on these islands. The River rises in the Spring from all the snowmelt in the Rockies and Appalachian mountains. This annual rise is beneficial to the health and prosperity of the River itself and all living things attached to it. They say if it’s ten species in the River itself, then there are 10,000 species in the wetlands and floodplains adjacent.

When the water drops in the Summer, small inlets cut through the sand and empties back to the River. The waterways are full of small fry and fingerlings trying to survive making this treacherous journey. They either make this journey or get landlocked in the middle of the island, and their faith be at the mercy of the River’s next rise. At the mouth of the River waits big hungry fish of all species waiting for the conveyor belt full of food. Some fish, particularly the gar species, try to escape the ambush by a leap of faith around the gauntlet of predators. Sometimes they end up stranded on land, compromising themselves and becoming food for the scavengers of the night like raccoons and coyotes who need the valuable protein to replenish their milk supply for hungry offspring.

“The River treats everyone the same. There’s no discrimination, and equality breathes through the surroundings.”

Here at Quapaw Canoe Company, we have just finished a month of summer camps for kids ages 6 through 18; girls and boys, women and men, black and white, LGBTQ, and straight. I watched closely as the group eased away from their electronics letting the natural muse of the Mississippi River rid their minds of trials and tribulations on land, challenging their comfort zones and watching them grow daily. I couldn’t believe the effect the River had on them. I thought the whole time that these individuals knew each other from school- later to find out they were all strangers. The bonding was smooth and swift. We had kids that lost parents to Covid-19, opiates and methamphetamines, and violence in our communities.

Our kids are stranded like those gar.

Dodging our societies’ communal failures as they grow, searching for their pathways, purposes, and passions in life. The River is the perfect place for that. The River treats everyone the same. There’s no discrimination, and equality breathes through the surroundings.

I have recently seen two of my most challenging campers, and they received me with big hugs. I thought they hated me, keeping them structured and sometimes raising my voice, but the River affected their souls as it effects me. It brings me peace and frees my soul. In our quest for equity and inclusion, the Mississippi River is a valuable, underutilized resource. From a boy born in East St.Louis, losing his Mother at 13, giving my life to the Mississippi River- I can honestly say that the River save my life.