6:55 p.m. Lee Creek Park, Mile 302
 I am alone!  My God, how long has it been since I have been alone?  It feels so strange.  I don't know what to do with myself.  I can't sit still and begin to enjoy it yet.  I am still nervous and, yes, a little scared.
 The campsite area consists of a flat grassy field with several covered picnic tables and RV pull-offs.  I quickly picked a table.  I had my choice since no one else was camping.  I launched the boat and oared down river to my camp site.  I pulled the boat completely out of the water, then tied it securely to a rock just in case the water rose.

7:30 p.m.
 I'll bet this will be a long night.  I am eager to experience the quiet, peaceful, calm of solitude, but I am still nervous and fearful of the unknown before me.

7:55 p.m.
 I'm glad my cooker and lantern are working well.  They sure make things easier.  I sat by the river on a huge rock at least 4 feet high and sipped hot tea and listened to the ducks flying overhead in the dark.  Now that will calm you down.
 Looking at the charts for tomorrow I find Lock and Dam 13 just 10 miles downstream.  I wonder what time I will arrive there.  That will give me a good reading on what the day's run will be like.  I have no idea of how many miles I can cover in a day's time.  If I make only 20 miles for the day I will have to camp on a sandbar.  The nearest good campsite will be 28 miles downstream at River Ridge Park just south of Mulberry.  If I have an excellent day's run of 36 miles I can stay at Citadel Bluff Park about half way between Mulberry and Ozark.  I won't even hope for more miles than that.  Although I would have a choice of 2 parks or the Holiday Inn at Ozark just 45 miles downstream!
 This south wind will make it slow going for those first 10 miles.
 What time do you go to bed when you don't have the 10 o'clock news to guide you?  I guess the answer is - Any time you want!  I can't imagine that I will sleep well tonight, but I know I will need all the rest I can get.

9:05 p.m.
 Well, tomorrow the adventure begins in earnest.  Alone on the Arkansas!  I pray for a pleasant satisfying experience.  Real life drama would be great in the re-telling, but I'll settle for a boring but happy cruise downstream.

9:30 p.m. I think I will try to settle in for the night.  I give up waiting for the 10 o'clock news.

 
Wednesday, November 27, 1991

7:21 a.m. Lee Creek Park, Mile 302
 I am underway now, just barely.  It's Wednesday morning and I think I am ready to begin the grand adventure down the Arkansas. Man, this boat is heavy! I have enough stuff in here for a month's journey down the Arkansas.  There is just barely a little wind blowing, but I am moving well.  The current is carrying me downstream, slowly but surely.  The wind seems to be coming straight up the river just like I figured it would.  I think I am going to have to renegotiate some of this load and move things around.  This is a loaded boat, I'll guarantee you that.

8:20 a.m. I-64 Bridge, Mile 300
 This has been very, very slow with little wind.  But considering what little wind there is, I am making good progress.  I'm going under my first bridge, still in Fort Smith.  Looks like I'll be camped 20 miles down the road instead of 30.

8:30 a.m. Mile 299
 I am moving out of Fort Smith now.  Only the industrial district is left with a few barges over on the left there.  But I am beginning to leave the city behind me.

9:25 a.m. Mile 296
 I have gone about six miles.  The wind just picked up a tad.  I am moving not quite as fast as I could row.
 I ought to pause and comment on the serenity of the scene.  The gulls are gracefully soaring overhead, crows are working in the distance, and the water is flat like a pancake.  At least everything is safe and sound, and I am not wet.  I have no water in the boat.  Well, I see a little leak there, but it is only a quarter of an inch.  No problems.

10:19 a.m. Mile 293.5
 I am at the arrival point for the lock.  In three hours I have made nine miles.  That's three miles per hour which is poor, but it couldn't get much worse than this.

10:35 a.m. Lock and Dam No. 13, Mile 293
 I am at the lock, and I have just pulled the chain.  The lock gates are opening and the light is yellow.  Ten thirty-five!  That's not bad for so little wind all morning.  The wind died again just after my last recording, and I have had to paddle all the way to the lock.  Shoot, I may have to paddle all day.  So far the signs are not pointing toward a steady wind today.
 A jam of trash and logs are floating in the river here.  It looks like they are going to go through the lock with me.

 I got in the lock and the wind blew up a little and made it difficult for me to tie up.  I can't tell if the water is lowering yet or not.

Lockmaster: Hey, how far down you going?
Mickey: Well... heading toward Little Rock.
Lockmaster: I'll let the next lock know you are coming.
Mickey: How far is it to the next lock?
Lockmaster: Thirty-six miles.
Mickey: Well, it'll be tomorrow probably before I get there.
Lockmaster: See you later.  Good luck.

 Now he is letting the water out.  The birds are swarming on the other side of the gate diving for lunch.

1:45 p.m. Gun Club Lake Light, Mile 284
 The wind came up.  I really am uncomfortable with this wind. It's blowing too much now and gusty.  I've seen that kind of wind before.  I think I'll take the jib sail down and try again.  I sure don't want to turn over in this cold water.

1:57 p.m. Big Creek Light, Mile 283
 I stopped in a cove to let the jib sail down, but then I had trouble getting the boat back underway because I was grounded on a sandbar.  The boat is heavy.  I am sailing again with just the main up.  I've killed a lot of time in this last little stretch, but that wind was troublesome to me, so I stopped for a while.

2:14 p.m. Arbuckle Island Light, Mile 281.8
 The wind has died down a little bit, but it still gusts up every now and then.  I am traveling under main sail only, but making good time.  I am sailing, I've got wind, and I am moving well. I am satisfied with this rate.  At this rate I could make another 10 miles before I quit.  I've just passed twenty miles even on a bad day.
 I must confess that I got kind of scared back there with that gusty wind.  I do not want this boat to turn over, and I am going to make sure it doesn't.  I am afraid with all the weight I have in it, it would be hard to turn back up.  I really hate the thought of falling into that cold water.  Sailing is 90% pleasure and 10% terror, just like I always said it was.
 The boat is leaking.  I keep having to use my sponge to get some water out.  Nothing serious.
 This must be a good duck hunting spot.  Hundreds of ducks are flying overhead right now.  They circled around, and now they are moving to the left over there.  They look like they are trying to find a place to stop for the night.  Maybe I should too.

2:47 p.m. Frog Bayou Light, Mile 278.2
 I am thrilled to finally be on my journey.  I've read so many times about sailing around the world and conquering oceans.  Now here I am on my little adventure, conquering a river.  Maybe it's not much of an adventure, but I find it deeply satisfying.  I'm having a good time!
 The charts are fun to use.  They haven't lied to me yet.  Sometimes I say to  myself, "There's a big, black thing that ought to be right there."  When I look up, a sign posted on a pile of rocks appears right where it should.  The chart also helps estimating distances because I can see the red and green markers at 1 1/2 or 2 miles away.

3:10 p.m. Crooked Slough Light, mile 276.4
 The wind is picking up some, but things are still comfortable.  The temperature seems to be dropping a bit.
 I can't believe the ducks.  Hundreds of them are stretched from horizon to horizon in V-formation.  When one group gets out of sight another appears to take its place.  Wave after wave; what an incredible sight!

5:55 p.m. Mile 270.5
 It's pitch dark.  I wanted to go on to the next park, but I couldn't make it.  The wind died.  I passed the last park about two miles back, and thought I could make the next one.  The wind was blowing hard, but just as I passed that last park it quit.  When I knew I couldn't make the next park, there was nothing to do but aim for a sandbar.  I found the sandbar which was no problem except for the fact that none of my tent stakes work.  They pull right out of the sand.  So I have had a terrible time trying to get this tent up.  I have it tied to a bush with water bottles on edges of the tent and heavy packs pushed on the inside corners to try to keep it up.  I think it will stay up for the night, but there is some question mark about that.
 I have the boat unloaded and pulled up high and tied to a little tree.  My tent is too full and too small and is sagging and giving me claustrophobia.  I lit my lantern and have it sitting right by the edge of the tent reflecting inside.
 Oh, but I've got to admit I am really nervous.  I can't get myself settled down.  I am really alone now.  I hope all my systems are working.  I think everything is fixed.  I have been so nervous all day that I haven't eaten much.  I need to cook something hot.
 My fear is that my tent is going to fall down in the middle of the night in the middle of a rain storm.  I would hate that.
 I came 31.5 miles today.  That seems to be a good run since I had to row most of the morning.
 I'm still having trouble settling down.  It was calm this morning when I was rowing. Then this afternoon the wind came up and was gusting.  That scared me a bit.  I was running good with the main only, but got frustrated when the wind dropped right at 4 o'clock.  Then trying to get my tent up renewed my frustration.  This is just not a good campsite.  That disturbs me.  But at least it is warm in the tent, very comfortable.  It's kind of cool outside, but not as cold as I expected it to be.    I just hope it doesn't rain.
 Tomorrow I think I will wear my rubber boots from the start.  I had a little trouble with water leaking into the boat.  The biggest problem is when I stop on a sandbar.  I have to step off in the water and mud.   I need to be prepared for that by wearing the boots.
 Out here alone and scared and worried about the rain makes me wonder, "Why did I do this?"  I seem to thrive on trying to force myself to attempt difficult tasks.  My type "A" personality is responsible for this episode.  Plus, I needed to spend some time alone.  My life has so much noise and rush that the solitude is a welcome guest.
 I bet I'll stop at 4 o'clock tomorrow.  Trying to race the dark to set up camp for the night is no fun.

6:30 p.m.
 I just looked at this spaghetti, and the package says to use two quarts of water for this little bit of spaghetti.  That's too much water.  Two quarts?  That's a half a gallon.  I'm not going to waste a half a gallon of water on this little bit of spaghetti.  I'd better cook something else.

7:00 p.m.
 Well, I fixed chicken and rice.  I think I put too much water in it because it's runny, but it really tastes good.  It's still almost too hot to eat.  I don't have a plate so I have to wait until the whole pot cools down.  Maybe I can figure out another way.
 I decided to eat off the lid to the boiler.  That will help to cool the rice down some.
 Yes, that worked fine.   I'll tell you, that's good.  I think I'll have some more.