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Show RTVER that if I wanted to survive, I'd better hit the road again. I got out of bed that morning resolved to return to the Mississippi River. I soon had another raging case of river fever. It looked to be a way out of the maze in which I'd trapped myself: not only did it hold the promise of adventure, but it looked like the answer to my artistic dilemma. Certainly the ideal place to write a book about the Mississippi River was on the Mississippi River. Spring came very early that year in California with beautiful warm days all through February. River fever revitalized me. I found a carpentry job near Lonestar and began to scrape together money for the trip. It took a lot of time to work out the logistics of the voyage and gave me something to occupy my mind. The circumlocutions of fate again crossed Richard Stockdale's path with my own. He'd returned to work through the winter to raise the money to buy a farm. He was going back south about the first of March and he offered me a ride. It did occur to me that I'd be getting back to the river pretty early in the season-I realized that it might still be cold in Kentucky on the first of March, but I figured it would give me a chance to toughen up and get used to the river so that I'd be primed and ready when the good weather arrived. I got my gear together for amazingly little money. I sold the guitar I'd bought during my laboring days and found a second hand boat for $75. It was one of the handsomest boats I've ever laid eyes on, as stout and well-made a piece of woodworking as ever came out of the north country. She was built by a Canadian company named something like Pireaux. Twelve feet long and four feet wide, she had lines like a duck, green fiberglassed plywood on the outside and varnished natural wood fitted and joined like a wooden canoe on the inside. My luck in finding such a fine craft for such a low price was exceptional, and she -139- |