Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

              Friday July 21     Mile marker 770 to moving through Memphis. The city was pretty architecturally like St Paul. I got pulled over a wing dam while waiting for two barges to move through. I tried to fight my way back to the main channel but the current was to strong. The second bridge was constrictive and a working tow boat was moving all over the place. There were several recreational boats but they gave me no problems. Met a nice fisherman and his son before and after Memphis, I had a nice chat with them.
             The river trip is hard on my body and comfort. The islands are keeping me alive. I am pulled through by each sunset.
             The mosquitos are pure torture.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Herding cattle on the great plains

He has a cigarette permanently fixed to his lips

When he punches cattle, he really punches them in the face

He's a cowboy with grit, and the strength of a great ape

When he has to pee, he urinates in a lemonade bottle and takes it back to the grocery store and sets it on the shelf

He's a man who herds cattle with a poodle.

Poetry from the book {The Lion and the Sun} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas         

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by artist Troy Richard Thomas

             Thursday July 20         I go to Osceola, Arkansas. I find and go up an inlet waterway. Barges are parked along the narrow passage up to dike that holds Lake Neark. Fishermen are here in abundance.
             I find a waterway blocking my passage over the levee. After a brief search I return to ask one of the fisherman for directions into town. I follow a dirt path that comes to a hay field. I go over a barbwire fence that is heavily sagged with use. I pop out of the woods and weeds into a dumping ground where I find some black teenagers standing around their car drinking beer. I ask them where the town is and they point and I follow the gravel road into town.
            A grocery store and restaurant lay right in my path. The restaurant was called Sarrelli's Deli. The deli and grocery store was in a black neighborhood. The owner of the store was white with a mostly white dining clientele who were driving into the neighborhood to eat. Mr. Sarrelli gave me a hat printed by the Vernon Company from my home town. He let me fill up on water in the kitchen. I was really happy to have some great food to eat, other than my usual 4 packets of oatmeal.
               The people in Osceola were really wonderful and nice to me. I carry a heavy load of water and food back to my boat. It rains as I do so. The trip back was shorter, now that I knew the route. A large group of kids fishing watched me pack my boat and paddle out of the inlet.
               Once out of the inlet the light rain has turned into a full storm. I hold next to a mud bank and wait out the storm, as well as letting two barges pass by.
              The willows dominate the forest, they have a fur like appearance. The bark has a cork like softness. The mud banks are a multi colored Crayola.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

               Wednesday July 19     Tent zipper is broken. Spray skirt clip doesn't hold. Cut my hand open, it is trying to heal. My eyeglasses are cutting into my ears. My right hand is frozen in a permanent grip. I put pressure on my fingers by placing rocks on top of them, and flattening my hand out. I go to sleep every night with large rocks piled on my hands. So what's new with you.
                 I'm around mile marker 786. Strong wind today, heavy wave action. It was a cloudy day but rain never came.
                 Paddled past Barfield Arkansas and a town called Ashport. There may have been a city park at Barfield but couldn't quite tell.
                  The river has been desolate, I am all alone on the river. Since St Louis fishing boats have been sparse, I've only seen two pleasure craft, and three logging operations. Large sand bars that are miles long and wide dot the river. The sand bars have a desert quality to them.
                  Headed for Osceola tomorrow.

Diary entry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Promethuis Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

             Tuesday July 18    It takes some time to load up the kayak in the morning. Small and large sea bags get loaded forward and back.
             Cloudy and cool today. Went through a wing dam area and at eleven o'clock it started to shower. The rivers flow has picked up, eddies, and little whirlpools are abundant. A yellow tow boat came up river on the Caruthersville side near the  industrial bank. I paddled over to the east bank to stay safe from traffic.
                       The rainstorm picked up to a full gale. I ditched the boat on a shallow sandbar and took a beating from heavy rain and crashing wave action. The rain was hitting my face so hard I couldn't see. I dug my paddle into the sinking sand bar and held on.
           Once the storm had left, the sun came gleaming through. A dredge boat lay up ahead. I wasn't sure where to pass, but I found a point. The corps dredge looks like a steamboat. I shortly pass under Interstate 155 bridge. Soon the sun shrivels away and a storm is above me, it looks like a bigger storm system than before. I shove on looking for a safe place to camp. What looked like a ghost ship was a tow boat relic from the past. Passed by four sitting barges, probably waiting on the dredging operation.
           I find a place to camp on island no. 21. It had a coal stained beach and high sand bank. I had to get up to the island on a fallen tree. The island was like a table land or small tepui. This is another beautiful island and it is keeping me alive.
          A hell of a storm hits at night.

Diary entry from the book {Promethuis Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Diary entry from the book {Promethus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

          Monday July 17     I leave the joyous island No. 8, I hug the eastern shore. I review the map often. Rock bank protection along shore has been with me since St Louis. The barge traffic was heavy today, with the barges doubling in size, and being pushed by two tugs instead of one at times.
            Took heavy broils, eddies, whirlpools, mostly around bank protection. In some areas I went through backward flow. The creeks are running full force.
             The dominant tree is willow, along with cottonwood, and sycamore. Trumpet vine is covering much of the bank in some areas.
              I am camping in the woods, with rocky bank protection. The sky is burning with a haze in the air. The weather radio says theirs a chance for rain the next three days.

Diary entry from the book {Promethus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Poetry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas

Andy fell asleep, he was just a boy

His dreams went deeper and deep

Until he died from a fall in one of his dreams

And he couldn't be a cat without it

The rain is sand, a man does stand in a raging storm of cresting water in electric blue haze

Don't go home without your turtle

Mother spilled tomato sauce on his home

And killed him sour grapes sprayed with minox-5

And did you know a cottonwood could grow to a feet so old till the limbs come crashing down

Old men of the sea with Red Lobster bibs on, and crusty beards

You'll see them sitting at the park benches feeding the turtles dill pickles.

Poetry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas