7:55 a.m. Russellville Lock and Dam Mile 205
 A cloud of fog broods on the face of the deep as the little Elgin motor settles into a steady chugging rhythm pushing me downstream.  No wind stirs the water this morning, so this is a perfect time to test the outboard motor.
 When I first started the Elgin, it coughed and spit a few times as if it were a shriveled old man not wanting to begin the job for today.  I choked the carburetor a few times, and the little old man decided to go to work.
 The tiny gas tank holds only five pints of gasoline.  I am curious to see just how long the little man will run with so little to drink.

8:09 Highway #7 bridge
 The strong current swings and sways the nun marker from side to side and swiftly carries me along.  With a strong current and my little man, I'll make good time today.
 The sun can barely peek through the fog and clouds all around.  Maybe the fog will burn off, and the wind will come up a little.  I would be oaring, but instead I am enjoying myself.  Relaxing.  Not working hard at all.  Making time.
 The boat leaks even more than last time.  Most boats do leak some.  But my mind can never relax when there's water on the wrong side of the hull.  All the water seems to be coming in on the left side of the boat.  I sponge it out again.
 The motor drones it's steady sound like a blanket covering the pleasant sounds of the morning.  I can't hear the birds sing.
 I have very little to do.  One can get bored just holding the tiller, letting the motor do all the work.
 Another blue heron standing awkwardly ashore leans to the river and takes graceful flight, forced to move by the sound of the approaching motor.  Nasty, noisy, smelley old man!

8:37 Mile 201
 Three Canada geese in perfect formation glide downstream ahead of a huge, ocean-going cruiser coming my way.  The cruiser rumbles by creating four foot waves which jostle me like a cork on a windy day.

8:47 The fog thickens to become a genuine cloud, a rain cloud.  Time for foul weather gear.  I make sure all the equipment is covered with plastic, garbage bags.

8:56  What a difference a motor makes!  I have come approximately six miles in one hour.  I can't get over how easy it has been.  This is exactly twice as fast as I was able to oar last week and with great effort.  Now I am relaxed, able to look around and enjoy the trip.  I can feel confident about making my goals for the day and setting camp before dark.  Even if the motor conks out, I have 6 miles of today's 28 behind me.  The only price is the racket, which is still a bit bothersome.
 I intend to keep the motor going until it completely empties one tank-full.  Just a scientific experiment to see how long it will run on five pints, you understand.  Otherwise, I would certainly be oaring or trying to sail.  Why don't you believe me?

9:02 Milemarker 198.8
 I've come 6.2 miles.  Amazing!

9:09 Milemarker 197.9 Point Bar Cutoff
 Cloudy still, but it hasn't rained.

9:15 Milemarker 197.5
 That's 7.5 miles in an hour and twenty minutes.  Motor is still running like a charm.
 A Chevrolet S-10 pickup materializes on the bank surrounded by wilderness as if the truck had fallen from the sky.  How did it get here?  Is there a road just over the embankment?  After miles and miles of nothing but nature gracing the banks here lies a serendipitous reminder of civilization lying just out of sight.

9:31 Milemarker 196.0
 Nine miles!  I remember last week how exhausted I was after nine miles of oaring.  I didn't think the wind would ever come.  But now I hardly care if the wind comes.  I am perfectly relaxed while the little man toils on without complaining.
 Another truck appears on the opposite shore equally out of place.  Three bank-fishermen squat by the water just below the milemarker, their white pickup with camper shell above and behind them while a great blue heron is born of the fog and silently glides between us.

9:38 My whole body winces with tension when I hear an unmistakable gunshot ring across the river.  A man and two boys amble on the beach checking their target for their accuracy.  I hope they are careful to shoot the other way.

9:42  The old man coughed a couple of times.  Sounds like he is running out of gas already.

9:53 Milemarker 193.7
 The motor has settled down again chugging away without complaint.  Perhaps water in the tank caused the sputtering a while back.
 I am nearing Sweden Island Park.  Fishing boats tied to trees spot the river, fishing poles spread like toothpick wings.  They appear every time I near a boatlaunch.  After three or four miles, I have the river to myself again.

10:01 Black daymaker 193.0
 Fifth-wheel campers and motor homes perch on the grassy bank at Sweden Island Park.  This is a choice location for enjoying the Memorial Day break.
 Memorial Weekend!  Was it just a year ago?  No, it must have been two years ago that I passed Memorial Weekend on the Chesapeake watching the Blue Angels while sailing in a 44 foot Morgan.  What a glorious sailing experience that was!  And this is a glorious... motoring experience?  The wind is silent so motoring is gloriously better than oaring.  In fact, I've traveled 12 miles and haven't even tried out these brand new oars.  Why, I may never use them!

10:10 Reeves Ferry Light Milemarker 192.2 (192.0 on the chart)
 Thirteen miles in a little over two hours.  Unbelievable!  In another mile I will be exactly half way to my destination for the day, and that in only 2 1/2 hours.
 The sun is beginning to burn away the fog.  A little haze clings to the distant hills, but blue sky has peeked out above for the first time today.

10:26 Milemarker 190.5
 I have journeyed 14 1/2 miles, and the little man slogs right along.  This marks 2 1/2 hours on this tank of gas.  Amazing!  If it goes three I will be very pleased.
 What an amazing difference this motor makes.  I just can't believe it.  I am a convert!  I believe, brother!  I think I've been saved!  I may never go anywhere without a motor.

 "Do you know me?  I'm Mickey Anders, solo sailor across the Arkansas River, with my Elgin 2 horsepower motor.  Don't leave home without it!"

 This little motor belonged to my Uncle Dave who gave it to me not long before he died of cancer.  Uncle Dave said it would run all day on a tank of gas.  It's getting on toward that now!
 I run the motor about half way open which seems to be a comfortable speed for the motor and for me too.  When I turn it up higher, it makes a lot more noise and doesn't seem to go that much faster, so I reach a happy medium and let it rip.

10:42 The little man just coughed again.  Perhaps he's about to run dry.  Five pints of gas, costing maybe 60 cents, have taken the place of hours and hours of hot, sweaty oaring.  I think that's a bargain.

10:54  Petit Jean Mountain, protruding from nowhere like an apparition appearing from the fog, looms over everything.  A light, gusty wind rolls down the mountain relieving the heat.  I am tempted to sail but am wary about squirrelly wind bouncing around a mountain.  The little man should soon be out of gas anyway, so I'll just motor a little longer.

10:57 Wilson Light 187.2
 I am only 10 miles from my destination, so I've made good 17.8 miles in 3 hours.  How wonderful!
 The motor coughed again.  I think this is the real thing; it's going to quit in a minute.
 A huge blue feather floats on top of the water as if sitting on a plate of glass.  I ply a circle in the water to return to it's side and pluck it for Will's feather collection.  What a gorgeous feather!  It must be from a great blue heron.

11:15 Milemarker 185.9
 The little buger is still running after 19.1 miles.  Three hours and fifteen minutes on five pints of gas!  Incredible.  I'm ready for the little man to give it up so I can stop for lunch.
 My luck has changed.  The wind is at my back for the very first time in 100 miles on this river.  It's not much wind, mind you.  Less than 5 mph, but it is blowing from behind me.

11:35 Milemarker 184
 Twenty-one, count 'em, twenty-one miles on five pints of gas, and this thing is still running!  Uncle Dave said it would run all day on a tank of gas.  He might have been right!
 A thunderhead is building up off to the right.  It appears to be just an isolated thunderstorm, but I'll have to keep a weather eye on that.  The wind is blowing about five in my face, as usual.

11:57 Milemarker 182.3
 The motor finally died after four hours and 23 miles.  That's amazing!
 Now I can finally eat lunch.  The current is still flowing enough to carry me on down the river while I eat.  It seems strange to be making good time while I am just sitting here.
 I am only five miles from the dam.  My goodness, what to do?  I'll be there by one o'clock.  I could make Toad Suck by 5 or 6 easy.  It's only another 21 miles.

12:24  For lunch I dug out a can of fruit, my water jug, and a can of sardines.  I thought, "Well, if I am going to be such a wimp that I'm going to take a motor, at least I can be man enough to eat sardines!  I'm macho after all!"
 The day has warmed considerably.  The heat would be awful if I was oaring all this way.  I think I will try my new oars a while just to say I did.  But I won't do it long because it is so hot... and because motoring is so blooming much fun!

12:36 I oared for fully five minutes before deciding it was too hot for such.  The little man is working for me again.  I guess I am on for another four hours of motoring.  No wind.

12:54 Milemarker 179.4
 The dam ought to be coming into sight real soon.  The little man just keeps puttering away.  I may have to change the name of this journal from "Sailing Alone Across Arkansas" to "Motoring Alone Across Arkansas."  Then who knows?  I may have to change it again to "Just Having Fun, Relaxing, Cruising Across the Arkansas."
 Now I am having an identity crisis.  Surely there is some kind of achievement in this.  I argued last time that there weren't very many people who had sailed alone across Arkansas without a motor.  Maybe now I should argue that there weren't very many people who sort of sailed alone across Arkansas with a fifty-year-old 2 horsepower Elgin!  Maybe, but I won't make National Geographic this way.
 I can see it in the sailing magazines now:
"Solo sailor gives up ambitions, takes old smelly, nasty motor.  In fact, enjoys motoring so much, has gone all day without sailing at all!  Solo sailor gives up sailing altogether.  Auctions off sails."  Larry and Lynn Pardee would be so disappointed in me.

1:03 Milemarker 178.8
 I finally see the lock and dam.  Still making great time.  After I am through the lock, I will make the decision about going all the way to Toad Such today or not.
 This will be my first trip through a lock with a motor.  I trust it will be a lot easier, but then it would be easier this time anyway because there is very little current and the wind isn't blowing at all.

1:14 Milemarker 178.0
 There's the sign I hated last time:
"Warning!  Dam 4,000 feet.  Follow this shore to lock.  Danger!"
 I'll see how much quicker I get to the dam from this sign.  Last time it took me almost an hour to make that 4,000 feet.

1:25 I am at the dam.  Twenty-eight miles in 5 hours and 30 minutes!  The lockmaster says it will take 10 minutes to fill the lock.  I see a big water moccasin swimming in the water.

2:00 I am pulling away from the dam.  The turbulent water below the dam has trapped a log in the swirling currents.  I am glad to have a motor.

2:07 Milemarker 176
 Exactly 20 miles from Toad Suck.

2:16 Milemarker 175.3
 That's .7 mile in 9 minutes which should total at least 4 mph.  At that rate I should be in Toad Suck... let's see, 4 times 4 is 16.  Oh, no, I will be 7 p.m. getting there.  I miscalculated.
 An isolated thunderstorm is building up behind me.  I may have to head for shore when that thing comes over.

2:35 Milemarker 173.5
 This is better than 5 mph, which means I will be there by 6 p.m. after all.

2:40 Highway #9 Bridge
 I am getting some gusty wind out of the thunderhead.  The problem with thunderstorms is that if you get any wind at all, it may gust too strongly very quickly.  So I am better off motoring... of course!

2:55 Milemarker 171.7
 The storm is blowing a nasty wind now.  I feel a few drops of rain, but everything is tied down in plastic garbage bags.  I have my slicker on, so I should be all set for the storm.

3:07 Milemarker 170.5
 I've come 5 1/2 miles in one hour.

3:16 Milemarker 169.8
 Still sprinkling.  Light winds.  Thunder is moving southeast of me.

3:25 Milemarker 168.8
 I have 12.8 miles to go.  The wind has settled to a steady 10 mph blowing from behind me.  Can you believe it?  I think I'll put up the jib and catch a ride.
 Now I am motor sailing!  It makes me feel a little better about what I am doing.  I can save face with the term "motor sailing."  The jib sail seems to salve my conscience.
 The wind is pleasant.  I may have to put up the main and kill the motor.  Wouldn't that be something?

3:56 Milemarker 165.6
 Wind decreases then increases.  Right now it's blowing well, still at my back.  I can't believe it.

4:10 Milemarker 164.2
 8.2 miles from the dam.  Ran out of gas, but refilled the tank; I'm on the move again.

4:16 The motor died.  What's this?
 I discovered I had shut off the gas valve leading to the carburetor while refilling and forgot to reopen it.  No problem.

5:50 arrived at Toad Suck Dam

When I arrived at Lock and Dam #9 so early, I decided that I could make it to Toad Suck Ferry Dam by 6 p.m.
 After pulling the chain for the lockmaster, I motored over to ask him where was a good place to camp.  He suggested that I not go through the dam, but cross above it to the other side where some nice campsites where and a dock where I could tie the boat overnight.
 Motoring across the river just above the dam was a frightening experience for me.  I kept thinking, "What happens if this motor quits half way across?  Nothing could keep me from floating down on the dam just 400 yards away."  This is about the most dangerous situation I have faced.  Most motor-boaters never give it a thought because they blindly assume their motor will always work.  But a failure at this point of the river would be disastrous.  Fortunately, my trusty little motor purred inerrantly to safety.