Friday 14 Around 44 miles paddled. Last night as I slept on a table rock in my bivy bag a convoy of barges moved up the river. Ten or more barges lighting up the night in a midnight parade, with those purring engines. It seems like a long time ago, a dream. Their search lights moved to and fro in the night.
I went through large desolate bends with rock bank levees thin of trees. Dry Islands, sweeping lowlands, the sand shores are lined with a wet ring.
Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas
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