Frequently Asked Questions

First off, let me just admit that I can't answer a lot of the questions I've been getting. I mean, I'm pretty sure about the past month, but not so certain about the next two weeks. Still, a lot of people are curious about several aspects of the voyage.

What is the boat made of? I went to a lumber yard and bought four sheets of foam insulation like you would use to insulate your walls. Foam is soft so it is easy to glue, cut and sand to perfection, not that I sanded it to perfection. I added wood stringers along the front and sides so that I could fasten hardware to it. Then I fiberglassed it, encasing the foam in a rigid, strong shell. This is essentially how they make wind surfers, surf boards, etc., except that they do a better job because they know what they are doing and have a lot of experience. That's because there are a lot more people who want to surf than people who want to pole across Nebraska, for some reason.

How big is the boat? It is 16 feet long and 32 inches wide and weighs 53 pounds. If I had it to do over again, it would be 18 feet long and 34 inches wide, but that's hindsight. It is very stable to stand on and floats in about an inch and a quarter of water, loaded. It works quite well, but next time I'll get a boat designer to help me do a better job on the back end, which isn't quite as hydrodynamic as I wish. "Hydrodynamic" is a word you use when you want to impress people with your knowledge of boat building, in the absence of any real knowledge of boat building.

Where are you going to start? The town of Henry, Nebraska, is very close to the North Platte River and the Wyoming/Nebraska border. I'll start somewhere near there and if I have to I'll pole upriver a bit to make sure I start in Wyoming. Then I will follow the North Platte to North Platte (I'm not stuttering here), and then the Platte to Plattesmouth. If you Google Platte, you'll find me.

What will you eat and drink? I have a tiny stove and a supply of food that is easy and quick to cook. I also have a bunch of Power Bars, rehydration drinks and snacks, and a water purifier that runs on batteries and uses ultraviolet something or other to purify water. At least that's what the advertisement says it does. It's called a SteriPEN, but has nothing to do with cleaning up bad prose, as you can tell from this blog. I can cook, purify water and eat, all on the boat if necessary. Theoretically, then, I can survive for at least one day in the wild by myself, provided the stove lights and the water purifier purifies. I pretty much hate Power Bars and rehydration drinks.

Will you sleep on the boat? Perhaps it is more accurate to say I will spend the night on the boat. I do have a nifty spifty nylon canopy that I can put up in about 2 minutes, and a Therma Rest mattress and an ancient sleeping bag that I don't mind losing or ruining, should it come to that. The nylon canopy will serve very nicely unless I get a driving rain, (which I will be praying for) in which case it will serve very nicely as a wind tunnel and I will go to Option B: an umbrella. Option B does not offer much hope of sleep but works as a sail if I get a tail wind (which I will be praying for). The good news is that with this arrangement I can just pull up on a sandbar, or just stay on the last sandbar of the day that I get stuck on, and I have a dry, flat surface on which to pass the night in the middle of the river. No private property violations (something I'm careful to avoid, especially with Nebraskans being such strong supporters of the NRA) and no worrying about ticks and varmints. Not that I wouldn't eat ticks and varmints after the first couple days of Power Bars.

Will there be any water in the river? If I could answer this question, I would be sleeping better and there wouldn't be so many skeptics out there betting against me. I'm hoping that it is called Platte River, rather than Platte Riverbed, because there is the possibility of there being water in it. If there is no water, I will be having a walk on the beach, carrying a boat and a backpack, which is not the vacation I envisioned. With every painful step I will mutter, "The skeptics were right, the skeptics were right, the skeptics were right," which will be the most painful part of each step.

Do you really think you can make it in 10 days? I used to say an unqualified "YES." Now I mumble things about "acts of God" and things I can't control. Consider this a precursor to the fullblown excuses that will come later.

So where did you come up with this idea? See "acts of God" in the preceeding paragraph, but don't blame Him.

Do you think God is on your side? I believe God is always on my side, but I don't think that means He will decide to change the weather, the course of the river, the purity of the drinking water or the flavor of Power Bars to suit my trivial whims. After all, God is also on the side of my dear friend and mentor, Charles, who just yesterday had his whole prostate surgically removed, something that none of us would have chosen and that is of far more significance to him than this boat trip is to me. God decides when and where to intervene, and I won't hold it against him if He doesn't think it necessary to raise the level of the river three inches just when I need it most. Of course that doesn't keep me from praying that He will give the farmers three inches of soft rain and a westerly wind about the time I'm coming through. You know, for their sake!