LESSONS LEARNED ON THE MISSISSIPPI

By Matthew Hager Valpo ’87

On October 19, 2023, I approached New Orleans in an unorthodox way. As I paddled my kayak to the terminus of St. Peter Street, I waved at passengers on the Canal Street Ferry and avoided a collision with a three-man Zodiac (inflatable boat) performing rescue exercises at a riverboat. 

With 500 feet remaining of my 1,800-mile journey, I could hear a brass band strike up a celebratory tune. The 69-day trip had taken nearly nine months of planning. I was excited to finish. 

Approaching the shore, I jumped into the chest-deep water and towed my boat to land – somehow it seemed like I needed this final baptism from the Mississippi River after an epic journey. I had finally arrived in New Orleans. 

I was greeted by two homeless strangers who berated me for my stupidity in plunging into gator infested waters; they had “stories” of people who had been overcome by gators on these very shores. Before I could give a distress signal to save me from these well-meaning strangers, Brothers Dave Schuette Valpo ’86, Mark Lecy Valpo ’87, and Chad Bohlmann Valpo ’88 were there to embrace me and drag my gear and boat to higher ground. 

Dave, Mark, and Chad had each joined me on the river at the onset of my journey. Now they were here, along with my wife (and Dave’s sister) Christin, to celebrate the completion. We shuttled my gear to our SUV and put the kayak on a wheeled cart for the final portage to Pat O’Brien’s; my plan from the beginning was to stand with my boat, a hurricane in hand, and my feet on Bourbon Street. Now, the love of my life and three dear friends and brothers were here to make sure that happened. It was more amazing than anticipated. 

Over the next few days, we celebrated with the great food and music that New Orleans offers as we reminisced about different aspects of the adventure on the Mississippi. I had left everything I knew and loved behind to set out on an epic and somewhat unpredictable adventure. While I didn’t recognize it ahead of the journey, I had embarked on a classic “hero’s quest.” I also didn’t recognize how meaningful it would be to me and my friends to take part in this adventure together. 

Dave joined me for the first eight days of my journey. We spent our time trying to figure out how to best stow gear aboard two boats, quickly set up and take down rough camp in undeveloped areas, and determine the daily fuel needed for our human engines. As my brother-in-law, Dave knows how to give me constructive feedback better than anyone else. His naturally pessimistic outlook provided a helpful balance to my unrealistic optimism. Dave, an Eagle Scout with kayak experience, helped instill confidence and calm as we pitched tents in the wilderness. I was also glad to have him with me on two occasions when we were taken into the homes of perfect strangers at the end of long days on the river; celebrating the unexpected offer of beer, a shower, and a mattress from friendly strangers was a more memorable experience with Dave. 

Chad relieved Dave for the next eight days. His worry-free and fun-loving demeanor was just what was needed for this stretch. We faced historically low water levels that impacted the river flow rate, making it difficult to maintain the daily mileage plan. Indeed, we ran across other travelers who were planning to end their journey well short of the Gulf of Mexico destination. Chad helped me come to grips with the possibility of shortening the journey from 2,100 to 1,800 miles by taking out a section or two.

On our third night, our bags with all our cooking gear, most of our food, and some of our clothes were stolen from our boats as we slept. Chad’s relative nonchalance about this setback and his jovial camaraderie made the experience of trying to replenish our stores much more manageable. 

After a day of rest in Minneapolis, Mark joined me for the next 10 days on the river. During this stretch, we met the biggest physical and logistical challenges: long days, severe winds, and the presence of commercial barge traffic and shipping lanes. After two days of somewhat difficult on-boarding, where my 16 days’ experience and conditioning left me a significant advantage, Mark became the positive enabler I expected he would be. Mark shares a bloodline with the Energizer Bunny, and his can-do spirit was a necessity for this challenging stretch. Additionally, my two daughters each got to join Mark and me on back-to-back weekends, allowing them to see the kinds of people I call friends. 

Mark left me in Le Claire, Wisconsin, where I started my first solo part of the adventure. The days that followed were full of memories. I encountered youths with explosives, survived anxious moments in heavy fog and overcame heavy barge traffic. I even had a few nervous moments with gators. However, these memories belonged only to me; I wouldn’t be able to regale these experiences over a campfire with the supportive views of a fellow traveler. 

On my last day in New Orleans, I saw a poster that caught my eye, it said: Live A Great Story. I hope to remember that and do that in the future. We should all remember to seek out adventure, choose happiness, treat others with kindness, and be grateful to God for this wonderful world.

It’s wonderous how God scripts our lives in such “unscriptable” ways. When I was sitting across the table from Mark late in the final night of our pledging in 1987, I couldn’t possibly have guessed he would be supporting me nearly 36 years later by hiring a brass band to celebrate my ridiculous Mississippi kayak quest. Looking back on this once-in-a-lifetime adventure, I feel blessed to have had the opportunity for this experience, and more blessed to have such wonderful friends to share it with. When with a friend through an epic adventure, a problem shared is a problem halved, but a triumph shared is increased tenfold. 

You can read about Matthew’s full journey down the Mississippi on his blog: mississippimattblog.com.