Monthly Archives: June 2026

On finding closure when things don’t turn out as planned…

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Something of what it’s like to start a canoe trip 12 miles off the coast of Mississippi…

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June 28, 2026 – My last two posts talked about a two-week last-May road trip in Ireland. I plan to do more posts on the part of the trip where we finally rent a car and leave Dublin, after our first three days, but it takes time to get things just right. (Hopefully for another travel book I hope to write in the not-too-distant future.) But because I last posted on June 14, and because it may be another week or two to do another good Ireland post, I now offer a fill-in blast from the past. (As in, a striking reminder of an earlier time or “something that excites nostalgia.”)

Back in 2012 my brother Tom had a bright idea for a long canoe trip. Starting in Natchitoches in Louisiana, he’d paddle down the Red River to the Mississippi, and from there paddle down to a place where he could bayou-and-portage over to Lake Ponchartrain. Then he planned to paddle across that huge lake to New Orleans. From there he’d paddle to and through the Rigolets (RIG-uh-leez), an eight-mile channel out to the Gulf of Mexico. But wait, there’s more!

Once out through the Rigolets he planned to paddle 12 miles out into the Gulf of Mexico. From there he’d paddle the route French explorers used to bring their trading-furs to present-day Biloxi. (Back then known as “Fort Maurepas.” See Fort Maurepas – Wikipedia.) Meaning that once through the Rigolets, he’d have eight days of paddling and primitive-camping – “dig a hole and squat” – on various islands and an occasional salt marsh out there. That led to my first thought on hearing the plan: “Are you crazy? 12 miles out?” But alas…

Tom invited our brother Bill and me to join him but we both begged off. Then that 2012 attempt got cut short by a warning – a hurricane or tropical storm – and the family breathed a collective sigh of relief. (“12 miles out? Really?”) But he wanted to try again, and in 2013 invited me to join him. This time I accepted. (With trepidation.) But this trip too got cut short. At first by strong headwinds; strong enough that we only got to a marina near the start of the Rigolets – and by another warning, from Tropical Storm Karen. (A side note: My first wife was a Karen. She died in 2006, so I figured her spirit was looking out for me. Either that or fixing to kick my ass.)

Anyway, on the third try in 2014 Tom and I actually did the eight days of canoeing out to some offshore islands in the Gulf of Mexico. Those islands – 10 or 12 miles offshore – included Half-moon Island, Cat Island and the Ship Islands.  (I.e., both East and West Ship Island.)

Unfortunately, the end of the trip didn’t go as we planned.

That November 12, 2014, we got up at 2:00 a.m. and hit the water at 3:00 a.m. (We had camping lights attached to the bill of our ball caps, to help us break camp in the dark.) Our goal was the Beau Rivage Casino and Hotel.  We could see it shimmering brightly on the horizon, nine miles away over the open water from East Ship Island. Things went well until somewhere around 5:30, when a storm started threatening from the north earlier than expected. 

The forecast had called for heavy storms coming in later that afternoon and continuing into the next day. That was why we had to make Biloxi that day. The alternative was spending two or three more days away from the comforts of civilization, like running water and not having to “dig a hole.” (And included huddling in our tents on East Ship Island two or three more days…)

There was no real danger, yet. But all of a sudden there was no horizon either. A heavy fog settled in between us and somehow, in the gathering dark greyness, with no horizon, we two intrepid canoeists had gotten separated. Actually, that happened earlier when I looked around in the black of night for my brother’s “beacon,” his camping light. That’s when I learned that six or seven miles offshore, in the dark of night, those camping lights weren’t all that helpful. As I peered out into the bleak blackness, the light from my brother’s cap – wherever he was – pretty much blended in with all the other navigation lights, the ones you could see.

Anyway, about 5:40 a.m. – still no horizon – I started drift-paddling toward a piling with a bright red flashing beacon at the top. I figured I’d get there and wait for the sun to come up and burn off the fog.  (The fog-haze that blur-erased the horizon so well.) I wanted to get to the pole, but not too soon. I didn’t want to be seen clinging to the buoy like some decrepit old guy with no business out there at that time o’ day. Also, the waves were rolling pretty well, which meant it would be quite an effort to hang on to the pole by myself. Or if I tied the canoe to the pole, the rocking waves might toss the canoe up and down – and likely snap the connecting rope.

So, I wasn’t in too much of a hurry, waiting for the sun to come up. Besides, I rather enjoyed the sense of being gently rocked, alone, out where no one else in his right mind would ever be. But my reverie ended when I saw a boat some distance away, near the edge of my narrow horizon. It traveled fast at a right angle, and after a bit I noticed flashing blue lights. Then – after another bit of time passed – it swerved and made a beeline, straight toward me and my canoe…

To make a long story short, my brother had ended up calling 911.  (On his cell phone.  This was after he tried to call me on my cell phone.  My cell phone was safely tucked away in a dry bag, somewhere in the bowels of my canoe.  And it wasn’t turned on for the simple reason that for most of the eight days out, there was no cell-phone reception. Go figure.)

Bottom line: We finished having to get picked up by a boat from the Biloxi Marine Patrol…

Ever since it stuck in my craw that we didn’t do the whole eight days on our own power. (To stick in one’s craw refers to something that causes one “to feel abiding discontent and resentment,” based in turn on something you “cannot swallow, based on the literal meaning of craw (the throat of a bird).” See stick in craw – Idioms by The Free Dictionary.)

Which brings up closure, the act of “bringing an unpleasant situation, time, or experience to an end, so that you are able to start new activities.” (Which also applied to the eight years it took to fulfill a lifelong dream of bisecting the Okefenokee Swamp, east to west. For more on that see the Notes.) But back to the closure to erase the sting of that “picked up by the BMP.”

My first try came Monday morning, February 9, 2015. I’d gotten a room at Biloxi’s Motel 6 on Beach Boulevard, four-tenths of a mile west of the Mississippi Coast Coliseum. I woke up at 5:49 – 4:49 Central Time – and found a 24-hour IHOP right down the road, for a carb-heavy breakfast. Then carried my kayak across Beach Boulevard, over and across the long beach itself. It was still dark when I started paddling out, just like on that morning of November 12, 2014.

After leaving the beach across from my motel, I paddled out and passed the Old Harbor jetty to my left, close to the “Broadwater Harbor AR” (artificial reef). Not to mention the Coliseum Pier. I’m guessing I paddled two miles out in the first hour and six minutes of my mission. When I set out the Gulf was smooth as a baby’s bottom, as it is wont to be early in the day. After getting over the fear of going off the edge of the world in the darkness (or being eaten by sharks) I settled in quite nicely. In time I got to watch the sun slowly coming up, and every once in a while I would pause, turn off my stopwatch and just enjoy the feeling “of being somewhere, someplace that no one else in his right mind would ever be.” It was quite a good feeling.

In time I turned back, and found the wind and tide turning against me the closer I got to shore. I landed four-tenths of a mile short of the Motel 6 put-in, and after hours on the water got onshore and walked the kayak through the shallows. Then carried it up through the sand and across Beach Boulevard, feeling like I’d done what I’d set out do.

But as it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who felt the need to find closure. My brother Tom had the same “abiding discontent and resentment” about how the 2014 canoe trip turned out. Which is why he planned a reprise of sorts for April 2024. The plan?

Get to Gulfport (MS) on Sunday the 17th, use Monday preparing to launch in Pascagoula on Tuesday, then paddle back to Gulfport. We figured: First eight miles out to Horn island, and from there the two Ship Islands – East and West – then Cat Island.* From there we’d paddle back to Gulfport, arriving on Saturday, March 23.

To clarify: Prevailing winds in that part of the coast usually run east to west. Meaning in 2014 we paddled mostly against the prevailing winds, while in 2024 we should have had the winds and waves at our back, helping push us along. (“Should have.”) To see the full story of how that adventure turned out see the post “Some kind of bust?” – That canoe trip after-action report. 

A heads up: That “some kind of bust” in the post-title gives a clue as to how that attempt turned out. Still, we did end up having a good time; we “made a silk purse of a sow’s ear.” Which is pretty much the essence of “Improvise, adapt, and overcome,” the old Marine Corps motto. And Tom is an old Marine, which means “that story hasn’t been wrapped up yet.” In the meantime, “we” have a 140-mile hike starting next August, from the Hook of Holland down to Maastricht. Then we can get back to that 2014 Unfinished Business. “I mean, as soon as I finish this beer.” (A classic Richard Burton line from the 1962 film, The Longest Day. “Words to live by.”)

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Mergel Wit: to which “a touch of marl” has been added…

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The upper image is courtesy of Offshore Canoeing Image – Image Results. It came with a page, “Can Canoes Go in the Ocean?” The answer? “YES, If You’re Careful.” Another hint: “most canoes can be used in the ocean but only if the weather is calm and you stay close to the shoreline.” (Hmmm.) Also, “Outrigger canoes [fare] much better in ocean conditions than other types of canoe simply because they have extra buoyancy and stability.” As it turned out, the weather wasn’t calm – and threatened to get worse – and we were five miles away from the “shoreline.”

For this post I reviewed the 2015 posts, On canoeing 12 miles offshore, and On achieving closure (with Achieving closure – Part II), 2017’s Canoeing 12 miles off the coast of Mississippi, and as noted, April 2024’s “Some kind of bust?” – That canoe trip after-action report. (My caption for that post’s lead image, “Unfortunately we did see some of this wind and wave on our recent offshore canoe trip.”)

Also, for more on that bisecting the Okefenokee Swamp, consider 2019’s Remembering the Okefenokee and 2023’s I paddled across the Okefenokee – finally! Also, I wrote a book on that story with lots of background on “how I got into this long-trip canoeing business.” It started around the year 2000 and included trips like 440 miles down the Yukon River in 12 days.

Re: “Silk purse.” See You Can’t Make A Silk Purse Out Of A Sow’s Ear – Meaning, on “one of the oldest proverbs in English,” first used in 1579? The proverb originally expressed the view “that you can’t turn something which is inherently low-grade or ugly into something valuable or attractive.” But the site added that “In 1812, Sir Walter Scott wrote this in a letter: ‘I am labouring here to contradict an old proverb, and make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.‘”

Re: “Adapt,” etc. See Adapt, Overcome! Culture Phrase Motto and Improvise, Adapt, Overcome: Unleash Your Inner Marine. (Personally, I prefer “adapt, improvise and overcome,” with the words in alphabetical order.)

For the Burton beer quote – and others – see The Longest Day (1962) – Richard Burton as Flight Officer David Campbell.

The lower image is courtesy of “beer in maastricht Images.” It comes with a page 5 insider tips for drinking beer in Maastricht – Tasty Tales, which I’ll revisit later this summer.

If a regular visitor to the Western part of the Netherlands would be dropped in the far south of the province of Limburg he or she would believe to be in another country. Because here the straight and flat green meadows make way for rolling hills. And in a country where hills are a rarity we even call them mountains… But it is a beautiful part of the country where people enjoy life. And food. And beer. Because for the beer lover there is plenty to enjoy.

So “straight and flat” and plenty of beer. Two good reasons to look ahead. As to the beer in the photo: “The latest addition to the core range [of local beer] comes in a pretty blue bottle and is the Mergel Wit. Marl (mergel) forms the soil layer that Maastricht is built on, and this porous rock is also used to filter beer. In this case, a touch of marl has actually been added to the Wit beer.”

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Three days in Dublin – 2026

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Open-plan bar and lounge with wooden high tables, orange banquette seating, colorful pendant lights and a large TV screen at Clink i Lár in Dublin
The welcoming cafe area at Clink i Lár – ” ‘in the middle’ in Irish” – our first morning in Dublin…

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June 14, 2026 – The last post talked about my recent two-weeks-in-May visit to Ireland, and how it “kind of worked out as planned.” That included not being able – because of high winds – to clamber to the top of Skellig Michael, “a rocky island off the coast of County Kerry, Ireland, with a Gaelic monastery and a World Heritage Site.” On the plus side, we were able to end the trip with the planned visit to “the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin on our last night.”

So much for the summary. Now for some nuts-and-bolts, day by day details on how the trip really turned out. For starters, the planned 7:50 p.m. flight from Atlanta got delayed a good 45 minutes. And as usual on such a red-eye I got little or no sleep. Leading to my partner’s note:

On that day of arrival, May 7, after finally getting in touch with our taxi driver – a bit of a mix-up at the airport – we made it to Clink i Lár and relaxed with tea and a scone as we waited for check-in time. After a bit of jet-lag recovery we took mass transit to the Jameson Brewery.

Which is being interpreted: For the three nights in Dublin we stayed at Clink i Lár, “35 Abbey Street Upper.” One site added, “True to its name – which means ‘in the middle’ in Irish – Clink i Lár puts you exactly where you want to be. Located on historic Abbey Street, our brand-new hostel is the ultimate base for exploring Dublin.” And an aside: Waiting to check in, my partner took a picture of me, standing, bent over, elbows on the horizontal bars in the picture above, chin cradled in hands, looking for all the world like the tired, jet-lagged traveler I was.

Meaning that despite the aggravating taxi mix-up at the Dublin airport we still got to the hotel an hour before check-in. But the lounge chairs at the back of the top picture were very comfortable, as we sat and enjoyed our tea and shared a scone. Later that afternoon I took a walk the three minutes or so over to the Ha’penny Bridge and across the River Liffy, then left along the river past the O’Connell Bridge, where D’Olier Street magically becomes Westmoreland Street. (Like back home in Georgia, where they routinely changed street names at every intersection, mostly to “fool the Yankees during the late War of Northern Aggression.”)

But seriously, late that afternoon – after “jet-lag recovery” – we used our TFI Leap Card for the seven-minute ride over to the Old Jameson Distillery Tour on Bow Street. The tour “takes you through a re-created distillery which is visited by over 350,000 people a year.” One site noted that on the tour you learn “about the ‘Grain to Glass’ process on a fully guided 45-min English or French tour. Discover the story gallery and soak up the atmosphere in the heart of Smithfield.”

Rick Steves said the tour “feels corporate, overpriced, and put together for tourists.” But the 2026 DK Ireland book said the first-rate tours of the beautifully restored building offer “a worthy monument to the world’s leading producer of Irish whiskey.” Me? I liked it, but that may have be because at the Grog Bar you each get a sample glass. I got the Jameson with ice, while my partner got Jameson Lemonade, and they both tasted pretty good after a red-eye flight followed by long day getting adjusted. (My partner rarely drinks so I had to finish off the Lemonade.)

For some reason I didn’t write a lot about what we did next day, May 8. My partner noted that for breakfast we walked a couple of streets over and had breakfast at the Lemon Jelly Café, “a fresh, young café located on Millennium Walkway in Dublin City centre.” And that we walked and took a bus to Trinity College, then did the same getting to the National Museum of Ireland.

For myself, I noted that we had lunch at KC Peaches – 37 St Stephen’s Green. (Offering a “wide range of hot foods, healthy salads and tasty treats,” free of “all the additives, preservatives and chemicals you find in so much of the food produced today.” And that we shared a Peaches (Chicken) Caesar Salad, more than enough for two.) And that the service was fast. As I posted on Facebook, “You can measure the fastness of the service by the high level left in the pint o’ Peroni.” (A beer I acquired a taste for when hiking Italy’s Way of St. Francis in 2022.) The point being, I could only take a couple of swallows before the healthy salad arrived.

And noted that the great lunch came after we visited the National Museum of Ireland – the Archaeology one on Kildare Street – by way of Trinity College. (Their Book of Kells exhibit was booked up, meaning “maybe tomorrow?”) And before visiting the Chester Beatty library and museum, on the grounds of Dublin Castle. Established in 1953, it houses the collections of mining magnate Sir Alfred Chester Beatty. (It opened in February 2000 and was named European Museum of the Year in 2002.) Another place well worth a visit. Topping off the day we dined at the Gin Palace Dublin, Dublin, said to be a minute’s walk from Clink i Lár. They advertise, “After a long walk around Ha’penny Bridge, come to this bar and have a rest here.” And we did.

Next morning, May 9, started with an Eggs Benedict breakfast at Jay Kay’s cafe, across the alley from Lemon Jelly. The meal featured lots of crispy bacon and Irish butter for the toast. (Not ice cold and brick hard like at home. Smooth spreading.) “I never eat like this at home!” We again walked and bus-rode to get to the Book of Kells exhibit. My partner went in while I hiked over to Merrion Square “to see the world-famous statue of Oscar Wilde, lolling contentedly on a high granite rock.” (I wrote, “They celebrate him now, after he got convicted and sentenced to three years hard labor,” after which he wrote things like “De Profundus,” based on Psalm 130.)

After that I hiked across the Sean O’Casey bridge to past the Irish Emigration Museum, to the cafe where I had a real Irish Coffee, with Jameson’s. (It was a windy, blustery day.) Then hiked back to Trinity College, met up with my partner and went over to St Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin. I noted a couple of things, first that they’re part of the Anglican Communion, and second that some guy named Guinness funded a massive renovation of place when it was falling-apart:

Throughout the centuries episodes of flooding, bad weather and political unrest have taken their toll on St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Much of today’s Cathedral is the result of a major restoration between 1860-65. This was funded by the Guinness family, best known for their famous Irish stout.

(More especially, funded by Benjamin Guinness at a cost of $150,000 from 1860 to 1865.) Which to me provided an excellent extra reason for that projected visit to the Guinness Storehouse at the end of our time in Ireland. (And maybe even – between now and then- order a pint or two on my own?)

Anyway, to top the day off (after doing three days worth of laundry), we went to dinner at TP Smith’s Bar And Restaurant, a two-minute walk down Abbey Street Upper from “the Clink.” (Where “European and Irish cuisine blend seamlessly with a cozy atmosphere and excellent service.”) We shared an order of “authentic Irish Beef Stew, steeped in Guinness. Very tasty.”

Thus ended our last night in Dublin, “before heading south to the REAL Ireland.”

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“They celebrate him now,” after giving him three years hard labor…

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The upper image is courtesy of the Clink i Lár website.

Rick Steves on Jameson. Page 108 in his 2024 Edition guide to Ireland. The DK quote is at page 100.

The lower image is courtesy of The Oscar Wilde Monument: Celebrating Ireland’s Literary Genius.

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Other notes provided by my partner included that she “put on a brace at Book of Kells experience … bad handicapped access.” And that after the Cathedral visit she put her feet up while I got a beer in hotel bar, while attending to the laundry.