The Not So Mighty Mississippi

We were back at the Mayo Clinic a few weeks ago for the nasty needlework the doctors there do to my brain. It is a long trip, but our son Logan loves to go with us.

He is a good traveler, having grown up with parents and grandparents that all tend to take quite a few trips. The kid can eat and sleep anywhere, which is really helpful. The 12 hour drive up to Minnesota doesn’t phase him. He enjoys seeing the new and different sights.

While I was recovering from the procedures, Gary was playing around on the computer. Although Logan takes going to Mayo in stride, we have always made an effort to make the trip fun for him. He sees not so happy things happening to me there, so we try to balance that out by doing something he will enjoy.

We basically follow the Mississippi River most of the trip north. The river begins in Minnesota, and Gary thought Logan would enjoy seeing the headwaters of the river. Our son is a real history buff and loves to learn about how things were in the past. This was perfect for him.

The one hitch in the plan is that Gary didn’t quite read Mapquest correctly. What he thought was a three hour trip turned out to be a five hour trip. But, it was a beautiful trip. Minnesota’s motto is the land of 10,000 lakes, something we have sort of scoffed at before, wondering if they counted every ditch. We decided on this trip that they just stopped counting when they got to 10,000. There was water everywhere, on both sides of the road.

We ended up at Lake Itasca State Park, in northwest Minnesota. The headwaters of the Mississippi flow out of Lake Itasca. The mighty, muddy Mississippi is unrecognizable up there. It is a shallow, clear stream, less than 18 inches deep at it’s beginning.

Gary and Logan waded across it, and the water never got over their knees. Logan walked across, up, down and around in the river; amazed that he was in the same river that flows deep and wide here at home.

He laughed at the historical markers that told us of the search for the mouth of the river. Apparently, quite a few people thought they had discovered the beginning of the river, and they were all wrong. Another explorer came along, and did the wise thing. He asked the Indians. They basically told him, sure, they knew where the river started. Follow them. The rest is, literally, history.

The river begins as it ends, with curves and curls and bends and twists. It is so shallow and narrow that it seems it would be in danger of drying up. It just doesn’t seem possible that this little stream is the same body of water that we see, the strong river that carries boats and barges, that is so wide and deep and muddy and temperamental.

I’ve grown up with the Mississippi most of my life. I crossed it to visit my grandparents when I was young. I crossed it down in Baton Rouge every day when I was in college, and watched fireworks from the levy during special events. I have lived near it during different stages.

The Mighty Mississippi has been a part of my life. Now I have seen the not so mighty Mississippi. It reminds me of a story in my childhood, the little train that thought it could and did. This little river starts out as not much more than a shallow stream, but ends up as a major waterway that is the backbone to much of our nation.

We enjoyed making this trek, even though it meant our usual 12 hour journey became a 17 hour trip home. We still made it back in one very long day. We have new memories, lots of pictures, and a little more education. What started as an adventure for Logan ended up being an adventure for all of us. All in all, a great, if very long, trip.