394 
FOREST AND STREAM 
(Nov. 21, icx 
Floating Down the Mississippi. 
I.— For a River Oatfit.", 
The worst part of going anjrwhere always seems to me 
to be the getting ready for the trip. It is a pleasure to 
know that every preparation well done has its reward be- 
fore the end many fold, but the worry lest something 
important be forgotten, something useless be added to the 
burdens, makes a hardship of what might otherwise be 
a most enjoyable portion of a journey, little or long. 
Probably the fact that my hunting has been reached after 
weary miles under a pack basket has rendered the get- 
ting ready a painful process of boiling dow,n and leaving 
behind. 
Experience eases seme of the trials. One learns how 
little and what is needed after a time, and yet, in spite of 
the protest of his shoulders, the pack-carrier will add a 
few ounces that might better have been left behind, and 
fail to take something that would have proved most use- 
ful, or pleasing, unless he each time exercises every care 
and most careful calculation. 
The anxiety is redoubled when a region new to the 
would-be tourist camper is in mind. In spite of most 
elaborate precautions and thought, there wiU be mistakes 
— so many, in fact, that one is sometimes tempted to 
not get ready, but just go on the day appointed. That is 
the easiest way to get ready I know of, but — perhaps, 
alas ! — I've never had the nerve to try it even for a week 
in familiar woods. 
I began last spring to get things together for a trip in a 
rowboat down the Mississippi River, the start to be made 
at St. Louis. I had been down the Tennessee in a moun- 
tain-made boat and so had some of the duffle necessary, 
and some idea of what a long river journey would re- 
quire. On the Tennessee I had a wooden box six feet 
six inches long, twenty inches wide and four inches deep 
on the bottom of the boat to sleep on in case of necessity. 
It Icept me above the water that was always in the boat 
when I slept in it. I slept on the box several times, rolled 
up in a blanket, never once thinking to fill a couple of sacks 
with leaves for a bed. This time I thought of my place 
to sleep first of all. Instead of depending on houses along 
the bank for a resting place, the boat was to be my house 
and home. A heavy canvas hammock with a cover sewed 
on it, making a large bag, is the bed decided on. In some 
fashion I am to rig it, cot-fashion, from the oar locks, 
aft to the stem seat by rope or stick, or both. Over this, 
as in my other boat, T aim to arrange hoops of green cane 
over which to draw an old nin&-foot-long canvas for a 
boat tent. The open ends of the boat covering will be 
stopped by the one-time sides of an old lean-to which I 
carried on a walking trip toward the south ; and mosquito 
netting will be over the openings to keep out insects and 
snakes, especially snakes. 
It seems as if all the old hunting and fishing trips had 
each left something behind which would serve some pur- 
pose or other somewhere along the big river. For in- 
stance, some fish-hooks which I used in Huntington Bay, 
Long Island, are a proper size — No. i— for the blue cat 
of the river. I have yet to catch a blue cat, but* Mr. 
Horace Kephart told me this morning here at St. Louis 
that I'd find them in certain sloughs down the river. I 
have yet to see a slough to know it for certain, but I'm 
in hopes of recognizing either the dry-land kind or the 
behind-the-isknd sort at the first look at one, also the 
blue cats. 
A very important part of the outfit gathered from my 
duffle at Northwood, N. Y., was for cooking. It consists 
of a small frying pan, a graniteware plate, two granite- 
ware pails — one covered — a cup, a knife, fork and spoon — 
only I've got to get the fork, and mustn't forget. The 
plate will serve to cover the frying-pan in cooking. The 
Kid guys me somewhat because I am taking nickle-plated 
knife and spoons. He says it's a sign of tenderness. At 
any rate, coffee or soup or potato eaten from old iron 
leaves a rank taste in my mouth, and I'll not stand it if I 
can help it. After all, it is the little discomforts that hurt 
the pleasure pf a trip. The big ones are enjoyed, even 
while they last, by anyone with the love of adventure or 
with a sense of the fitness of things. 
I have always carried a mending kit with me, and the 
needles, thread, and patches invariably prove of service 
at frequent intervals. Once an ax wound was sewed up 
with some of the white thread, and scores of tears, wears, 
and rips have been closed up by more or less skillful use 
of needle and thread from the little red case, with its one 
pocket and half dozen flannel leaves, well wrapped by n 
cover and tied with a ribbon. 
Because of the horror with which I regard all snakes, 
harmless or otherwise, T have a pair of substantial leather 
leggings. One blade of my pocket knife will always be 
keenly sharp for cutting open a snake bite, and in my 
duffle, handy, will be a vaseline bottle full of matches 
tightly corded. If other mp.tches get wet, these will not, 
and the bottle, if I hold a lighted match inside of it, and 
then put the mouth of the bottle over the wound, the 
cooling of the air within will cause a suction that draws 
the wound — useful in case of a wound by a rusly nail, or 
insect sting, as well as by a snake bite. 
I have an acetylene gas lamp, of the sort used on auto- 
mobiles. Its light is very brilliant, and when I am tied 
to a stump down in some bayou I can read one or other 
of the few books I have with me, or write for a little 
while before turning in. But this lamp is a matter of 
experiment. It seems to be a most excellent lamp for 
night travel if that should ever be necessary — which I 
hope it won't. 
I have woolen and cotton underwear, thickest woolen 
socks, for in a boat cold feet are apt to come in bad 
weather; short and long trousers, a pair of blue overalls, 
a thick sweater, a couple blue half-wool overshirts, two 
pair of shoes and a pair of moccasins. A mackintosh is 
a novelty to me when in the wilds, but I have no doubt 
but what the one I carry will prove its value often enough 
during the winter. 
A lo-gaiige shotgun and a heavy revolver are the fire- 
arms I decided to bring at the last moment. I carried a 
.38 caliber rifle part way with me, but when I came to 
think of the trip, which is not a hunting or fishing one, 
I decided that the shotgun and revolver were all that are 
necessary. It will serve for anything I care to kill — even 
for a bear. For ducks and the like, I could have nothing 
better. A rifle is well enough for birds when there is a bit 
of meat in camp, but even a poor hunter can get small 
game with a shotgun — squirrels included. A copy of the 
game laws is essential in this connection, for the tourist 
must never forget that there are laws relating to non- 
residents in many of the States. But even here the non- 
resident is not entirely shut off from eating fresh wild 
meat. Some birds are not protected — blackbirds, for in- 
stance, and I have found them good eating on many occa- 
sions. A brother of mine, cramped for provisions, once 
ate a young blue heron and pronounced it good eating. 
Herons, in most States, are not considered game or song- 
sters. The tourist, it seems to me, should not be without 
expedients, or hidebound. It is well in getting ready to 
have in mind some things with which to meet such com- 
mon emergencies as lack of grub, snake bites, mosquitoes, 
and the like. 
To cook with, I early decided to get an oil stove. An 
open fire in a sand box under a tent on a boat on a warm, 
sultry, rainy day, is an abomination, and yet a long-legged 
kettle, a Dutch oven to cook corn bread biscuit, roast a 
rabbit or duck, or do other "heavy" cooking over an open 
fire, seems necessary. It will not do for the tourist who 
expects to live for months on his own cooking not to have 
a plentiful supply of utensils for cooking the variety of 
articles to be had by purchase, acquirement or capture. 
With two or three varieties of vegetables, a slab of meat, 
some water and salt, one can make soups, and substan- 
tial meals. Beans, Irish and sweet potatoes, onions, con- 
densed milk, a slab of bacon (it's better than salt pork), 
flour, chocolate, loaf sugar, rice, salt, summer savory, pep- 
per, butter, tea, a can of tomatoes, and perhaps some 
other things are to be purchased. These, if loose, will be 
carried in old cloth sugar and salt sacks, of which I have 
about forty. They serve admirably to pack clothes in, 
also. 
An ax for firewood when I want a camp-fire is needful. 
Sometimes one is tempted to carry a hatchet. I have car- 
ried a short handled hatchet that weighed a pound and a 
half, and found it very serviceable, indeed ; but one is 
limited to trees not exceeding three inches in diameter 
if a hatchet is all he carries ; also he is liable to scalp his 
knee with one. I left the hatchet at home, and will get a 
three and a half pound ax — big enough for work in a 
lumber camp. In a boat one can enlarge a great deal on 
the pack-carrier's outfit. 
It is always interesting to know about the region one is 
traveling through — real travel is for rhe pur^ ise of see- 
ing things. Thoreau traveled all his life thr' <-he fields 
near Concord, Mass., and continually ma.' in 
his neighbor's fields and pastures. Th' Shcp 
into Thibet is not more to be praised , , ^ unai, 
something new in his own back yar ^jme respects 
the stay-at-home explorer is more to be commended. 
Some hundreds of men have seen and written about the 
Mississippi. The library explorer need never take a back 
seat when it comes to so old a stream as the Father of 
the Waters. In fact, nothing but the figures which have 
resulted from fifty years of unremitting observation and 
calculation by men who have done nothing but consider 
the size and forces — esr 'cially the forces — of the Missis- 
sippi can in any mea? re give one a comprehensive idea 
of just what the Mississippi River means. A mere series 
of glances at the river is not enough. And yet these 
figures, to be comprehended, must be read by one who can 
understand the distances of the stars, and who is filled 
with wonder at the thought of radium. All that has been 
said and written about the most wonderful of American 
streams falls short of the reality. A feeling of disap- 
pointment was the first sensation I had when I saw the 
river for the first time last week. I had just crossed it on 
the cars, thinking it was backwater from a flood. It 
looked narrower than I expected ; it didn't seem to be 
rushing onward ; it looked sluggish, insignificant, muddy, 
black. After a time I saw that the little building on the 
far side was in reality three stories high, the bobbing 
mass of black drift a ways from the bank, compared to a 
flour barrel — that seemed the size of a tomato can — 
proved to be a tree trunk sixty odd feet long pounding 
away southward. The men of science with their foot 
rules, their six-ounce glass graduates, their broom handles 
loaded with lead, and stop watches, their sheets of paper 
and lead pencils, their gauges, sounding poles, ani levels — 
they have told stories as full of wonders as any that man 
ever conceived — and one finds them in little pamphlets 
labeled "Tabulated Results," "Levee Systems," "Re- 
ports of the Mississippi River Commission," and other 
things of that sort. 
Poets rise up and put spurs to Pegasus telling of Hora- 
tio at the Bridge — but the man who flung the bridge over 
the river has his story told in mere figures that mean, 
nevertheless, somewhat more than a clash at arms. It 
was the scientist who first brought men near enough to- 
gether to fight, and furnished the means for continuing 
th^ corsibats, No m^e ^>^sse^ by« such a« I ata, could in 
any fair measure understand the Mississippi until he 
examined with care "Tabulated Results" and other it 
of that sort. One or two of these in an outfit give a 
traveler something upon which to build his notions o 
region, its size, and resources. And after these tb 
come the history of the men in the new valley, 
searches for gold, and the making of a home — land \ 
pestilence and peace, exploration, commerce and gro 
comfort. Mankind has much to answer for in the dc 
of the Mississippi Valley, and some rewards to gati 
A not nice saying up in the Adirondacks is, "Theri 
man who's got guts." A woodsman who "has guts" 
good fighter and somewhat more. In looking at the' 
tory of the_ Mississippi Valley one is bound to corrl 
the conclusion that its history was made by men v/ho 
guts. A history or two is a most useful part of an 0 
T have one in mine, and will make use of it in fin 
places fit to see for the sake of the men who made 1 
memorable. A series of maps, got out by the Missis 
River Commission showing every landing, house, . 
vvood lot, and what not along the river, is a part oil 
outfit which will be most useful without a doubt in 
nection with history, but especially so wheri looking 
a place to get grub. 
In buying an outfit, or the things that it is nece^ 
to buy, I have always tried to get things of com' 
household use and service, rather than the sp 
things invented for the hunter and fisherman. Tj 
is no doubt but what a special camp kit, packing f 
in a very small space, is most useful in the con! 
space of a very small boat, or canoe, but by adj 
slightly to the space, those who must consider the 
find that the common house ware can be put into 
vice, the heavier material even lending itself to 
siderable economy of space if care is taken to get 
that fit in each other, basins the same and mat 
plates. It always seemed to me that the best camp 
that man who can take common everyday things 
camp, and so distribute them in the making of br 
meals and grub as to get the whole goodness ot 
each article, from the tent and its poles to the 
pepper and summer savory. I had this impresse( 
me one time by Mr. A. H. Clark, of New York, 
probably can do more camping to the twenty-four h 
than any one who has been along the Hudson R 
He said: "A man who goes on a vacation does sc 
recreating, not to tear and wear himself to piei 
It was a novel view of the situation to me, but I. 
by practice that a few little extras in camp, extra 
els, extra sugar, an extra vegetable or two, a bott! 
catsup, go far toward reducing the hardship agi 
which the body rebels — as every one knows who 
passed through the "roughing it" stage of love 
nature. As a camping trip down the Mississippi E 
months long is in prospect before me, I have ha 
consider my outfit with all care. 
Mark Twain and other humorists make a laug 
matter of such things as fever and ague, dandy fcM 
"Louisiana shakers" and the muddy water of the 
— "They expect us to drink this slush!" an indig 
stranger is made to say. To watch the mass of 
that fills a comman drinking glass from a St. I 
faucet, for instance, as it disintegrates, gathers 
•/isible specks that slowly settles to the bottom o 
glass, a dull, opaque, thickening, is to suggest all 1 
ner of internal troubles. I could taste the clay wh 
first drank it, but scientists say it is not so dangd; 
as most well water, and some of the oldest citizet 
the United States have drank this water all their 
holding the glass toward the light to observe the s 
of the river therefrom, and rejoice in the convolul 
and rounded clouds that appear as the liquid eddies 
whirls fresh from the thrust of the faucet. It ma 
well to remark that St. Louis has the largest bre; 
in the world, and that "everybody drinks beer" t' 
Dealers in distilled water do a thriving business, 
alum comes in large packages. The size of the 
is so great that germs are isolated, and, therefore. 
Science proves this, nevertheless malaria is so pr 
along the river, that like the Jersey mosquit 
jol<e. I have laid in a supply of bromo qui 
and a pint of whiskey, listerine and vaseline, to_ 
the common exigencies of bad water and bad air 
is said that "by taking care of oneself there is 
danger," but clothes nicely adapted to the tempera 
and humidity, punctuality as regards bathing, oons! 
ly appropriate food served in the best style — as e 
cent magazine article said in regard to typhoid fi 
there are precautions which one can take, but it \i 
possible to take them all. Fortunately, one need 
be far from good doctors these days along the riv 
As regards the boat, I had in mind to get a flat 
tom, flare-sided craft about 18 feet long, 4 feet, 
and 18 inches deep, as near the dory model as poss 
but Medart, here at St. Louis, said this would nc) 
so well as a boat often used on the river for a 
or by sportsmen. The one I have is just short 
feet long, 15 inches deep and about 42 inches wide 
is called a clinker model, and is built of three-eig 
cypress boards and oak ribs, keel and other fran 
As it is a lap-streak boat, a hole punched in it W 
be a most serious accident, requiring considerabh 
genuity to repair. But as it is not easy to upset 
large enough to stir around in a bit, and looks 
its coat of lead-blue color, it promises to be 
enough for my purpose — and one needs a good 
when on a journey of which the days in the sh 
ana bayou country will probably be the most nu 
ous. The quality that commends it most is eas 
running. 
Of course, getting ready for a trip never does 
and the last day ashore or afloat when "on a 
sees one doing some kind of preparation or anol 
I carried the things T was to wear from New 
State, but waited till I got to St. Louis to buy 
utensils and groceries as I would need to buy. Th<; 
the trip began the day I left Northwood, I was still 
ting ready when I saw St. Louis. From my view}: 
St. Louis seemed decidedly worth looking at— but; 
until I had been there a day or two. On the wa 
th-t town I dreaded the §tliy in the city. I wantej 
^ "going," ^ ^ o J 
i 
