grace grits and gardening - ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

(Note: Helena Advertising and Promotions Commission sponsored this blogger trip. Opinions are my own.)

Never swim in the Mississippi River. EVER.

My sister and I heard this warning over and over again from Momma and Daddy and Papa Creecy. Although the Mississippi River was our very own natural wonder, we knew better than to dip one toe into his churning current.

Please, can we go see the river?

After a trip to the grocery store, Momma often drove us over the levee to make sure he was still there. We always took out-of town visitors to see our river at the Osceola River Port. And crossing into Memphis, we held our breath on the bridge spanning the water, a game we played in route to the Zoo or Goldsmith’s or the Mid-South Fair. It was a l-o-n-g way over.

The Mississippi River flowed through our veins, yet we never swam in it. EVER.

When a classmate drowned, we understood and respected his power.

I recently stepped a toe into the Mississippi River. Both feet in fact. The cool water felt marvelous, yet forbidden. As I pulled my life jacket tight, I felt Papa Creecy shudder from the heavens…

I was part of a small group of Arkansas Women Bloggers invited by the Helena Advertising and Promotions Commission to spend a few days in their delta town overlooking the Mississippi River. Although Helena is directly downstream from our farm near Osceola, this was my first visit.

And a cram-packed, entertaining visit it was. One of my favorite activities—canoeing on the Mississippi River.

Led by the Quapaw Canoe Company, we canoed to Buck Island (also known as Island 63). And for those of you from Mississippi County, Island 63 is NOTHING like our infamous Island 35… not in the least…

Canoeing the Mississippi River at Helena

The spectacular autumn air held a freshness I’d yet to feel in Dallas since the prolonged, hot summer. A sense of nervous excitement grew, for me anyway—being on the river, feeling the tug of water against the oar. We laughed and talked and row, row, rowed, landing on the island just before sunset.

Buck Island was remote.

Mississippi River at Helena, Island 63, Buck Island

Arriving at Buck Island

Uninhabited, the only signs of life were animal tracks stamped in the sand.

Buck Island, Island 63, Helena, Mississippi River

beautiful white sand

In only moments, our guides built an impressive fire from sticks and driftwood gathered from the nearby woods. As the sun sank into the riverbank, we ate dinner by bonfire glow, debated the perfect way to roast a marshmallow, and drank the finest boxed wine from hefty coffee mugs.

Buck Island, Island 63, Mississippi River at Helena

Kyran Pittman demonstrating marshmallow perfection

I wanted to stay on that island forever.

Canoeing back in silence, Venus shone brightly above the tree line, and the Milky Way cut a bright swath in the night. Like a great whale, a barge slipped by moving the black water. I imagined rafting the river at a different time, in a different world, one without lights from the nearby bridge or the hum of soybeans being loaded onto nearby barges.