Two fit, dutiful, bookish, adventurous and long time best friends had time on their hands. The two were
seasoned outdoorsmen, despite their literary ways, and had dreams of adventure before settling down. One
planned a September wedding, the other had a serious girl friend. No jobs distracted them. English
majors from Colorado they were headed for graduate school; one could hunt, the other fish. One owned a
eighteen foot aluminum canoe and was really good with maps. One was all fired up by "On the
Road" and had read "all about J strokes and pitch strokes." Preparations complete.
So the two of them, Richard Messer "bow stroke" and Jerry "Deacon" Sanders, canoe
owner and navigator, set off on June 2, 1962 from Three Forks, Montana, the headwaters of the Missouri,
for New Orleans, 3,800 watery miles and 106 days of paddling away. The rules were minimal: no motors,
never turn down a free beer. The second rule was broken only once, the first, never.
Equipment was minimal too. A pup tent design familiar in the Civil War, mess kits, frying pan, cooking
rack, a grub box and a heavy, much used and cursed Dutch oven were the main items. Heavy rains gave
their ponchos much wear, nevertheless ponchos also doubled as sails when water and wind permitted.
Fishing lines, a small rifle, water jugs, journals, a few books, pipes, cheap tobacco, rope, a very few
dollars, and they were set.
Two more level headed adventurers would be hard to imagine. They weren’t fleeing from or to anything.
Both were capable of grumpy moments, but the four months of absolute proximity was without major flair
ups, as they stroked their 50 miles a day (ideally) through some pretty rotten weather and put up with
sodden camp sites and skeeters. The tall blonde introvert, Messer, and the darkly bearded extrovert,
Sanders, were a smoothly operating team on water or land. The apparent fact that they were the first
canoeists to make the complete journey they took in their cool paddling stride.
Most of the journey was through Lewis and Clark territory and reading "The Voyage of Discovery"
journals heightened the experience. Fortunately, neither young man was a geologist or an historian; they
were experiencing their own "now." Wild life was duly noted, spectacular scenery was
appreciated, unjust Indian history was contemplated, Jim Crow became reality. Barroom orators were
listened to, and the once prosperous river towns, passed by time, were explored, admired and
occasionally disdained. Nerds at heart, they visited and admired every dinky local museum they
encountered.
The Upper Missouri in 1962, minus indigenous peoples and buffalo, still had the Bittersweet Mountains and
"The Gates to the Mountains," to remind them of Lewis and Clark. But there were often visible
houses and telephone poles, and above all the fifteen Missouri River dams to remind them times had
changed. The dams required portage and navigation of the waters created fore and aft. The Corp of
Engineers’ work was everywhere; charged with taming the rivers and providing electricity; they
redesigned The Mighty Mo and the Big Muddy. For canoeists it became more dangerous.
The young men survived some real perils. Three days out they were nearly done in by a fast rising lake
storm with high waves, contrary winds and driving rains. Days later they casually scouted some rapids,
got hung up on a rock and barely avoided the dangerous " Big Eddy."
In mid-July, going through the Missouri Breaks, they camped on a mid-river island, to wake up to a
missing canoe… Human predators were not a problem; the tales of new friends and rescuers are many.
(See RIVERS on 7)
through the Missouri Breaks, they camped on a mid-river island, to wake up to a missing canoe… Human
predators were not a problem; the tales of new friends and rescuers are many. However, there was a
certain Captain Cook… .  As they got close to New Orleans, heat, humidity, mosquitoes and huge, silent
ocean going ships tested their determination. Finishing, made miserable by heat, humidity, mosquitoes
and the works of "civilization" became a matter of pride and honor.
Messer and Sanders travelled before the age of cellphones, so their isolation made every mail pick up and
coin-fed phone call an occasion. Taking a break to visit small Illinois towns filled with Messer
relatives provided an orgy of food, family and intimations of mortality. The boys were their own men,
but when Jerry Sanders’ mother got worried, she miraculously tracked them, by phone, to a bar in tiny
St. Genevieve, Missouri.
At Lexington, Missouri the two became four when they encountered Harold Umber and Bill Shirley bent on a
similar adventure. Once the Muddy Mo joined The Mississippi at St. Louis the full force of commerce and
work initiated by the Flood Control Act of 1917 dominated. Tows, barges, sand dredges, dredged channels,
levee work and trash along the river became the norm. The river was " straight jacketed," and
the ancient cycles of flood and silt were disrupted.  By the time they got to New Orleans all was
commerce.
The trip was so wet as to be downright moldy, and Jerry was left with a microbial reminder of Mississippi
life, but above all it was exhilarating, life changing, a passage to manhood. In Messer’s words, "
It was great to be alive, fully alive, and I felt all we endured was worth it."
Author and youthful adventurer Richard Messer is a BGSU Professor Emeritus of English and Creative
Writing. The poems of his "Dark Healing" reflect a later, darker chapter in his life.
"Big Rivers" is pure joy, life is seen and experienced as hard earned accomplishment. The
writers reminds the reader, in these fearful, sheltered times, that adulthood is an achievement to be
won.
Our hero married his Gloria six days after leaving New Orleans and became a scholar and teacher. Jerry
had more journeys to take before settling down. Imagine being an action writer for Honda Motorcycle! The
book is a collaboration that goes down Memory Lane, while daring the young to "try it!"
The book is rightly classified as Adventure/Nature, but it is also, Youth/Friendship/Rites of Passage. A
satisfying and enjoyable read.