The Great Loop: Solo Canoeist Sets out on 6,000-mile Odyssey Throughout East Coast

Peter Frank is being frank. This summer, he embarked on a 6,000-mile solo canoe loop throughout the East Coast pretty much… just because. And we plan to follow him.

Frank’s water trail (which you can follow on www.whereispeterfrank.com) will take him to the Mississippi River Delta, Florida Circumnavigation, East Coast, Hudson River, Erie Canal, Great Lakes and finally the Illinois River. Here’s what’s running through his mind so far:

“When I travel, I feel like a gypsy trudging her way through the lands in her wooden caravan, harboring an assortment of birds and animals. I imagine she’ll trade spices and furs with the locals for unique trinkets that she collects along her adventures. Then she’ll tell these wild stories to the tavern folk before making her passage to distant lands in search of whatever spiritual endeavors she happens to stumble upon.

Except in my case, I’m a pirate in a 40-year-old canoe, with a black sail, and no rum, and I meet all sorts of interesting people that have their own sets of stories and life experiences, all the while surviving in whatever environment I find myself in. Until that one day out of the week I sit at the end of the bar in a local tavern and watch as the eyes of locals light up as I slowly reveal that I’m not just a delusional optimist that dresses in slops for fun, but in truth, I’m a delusional optimist that dresses in slops for fun while breathing heavily most of the day.

I feel as if I’ve always been a kid, and never actually gave myself the opportunity to grow up. I feel this way because kids generally have the outlook and creativity to role play their lives to make it seem more interesting than what it actually is, just like playing with a light saber or being the narrator of a dungeons and dragons board game.

Although in my situation I just decided to actually play the part and dress like a pirate. Maybe that makes me even more childish, or, maybe that makes me the coolest guy in the room. Either way, I still get a cheeky smile out of strangers that I pass on the waterway, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted out of life.

THE JOURNEY

The Great Loop; a 6,000 mile water trail consisting of The Mississippi River delta, Florida Circumnavigation, East Coast, Hudson River, Erie Canal, Great Lakes and finally the Illinois River. Although I may not be able to succeed on my trek in one season or in one go, my long voyage begins at the North Eastern point of Lake Michigan where I’ll depart with my caravan of ragged handmade slops and assortment of travel decals.

For some, Lake Michigan is a place to gather with loved ones and enjoy a scenic day at the beach, but for me, this is my home; a place burnt into the depths of my subconscious, and in a sort of poetic way, the destination, the very place I plan to spend months on end paddling away from in hopes of getting to. Many who undertake an adventure such as this are in search of something, perhaps within themselves, and that something is often only found at the right time by the person searching for it. Assuming that right person is me, then I’m right where I need to be. In many ways, the world is a direct reflection of the human experience, a metaphor of sorts that demonstrates the roles we play in our time here.

The shores of these waterways, like the boundaries of our own existence, beckon us to explore the depths of our being. The endless crashing of waves against the sand remind us of the transient nature of our own lives. Each moment; a fleeting opportunity to soak in the wonder that is our world. Like a philosophers quest for wisdom, the exploration of the Great Loop is a journey of self discovery. You find who you are by exploring who you are not, and what better way than to begin with the most challenging part of life; a grand adventure.

THE DEPARTURE

For me, canoeing has become a staple in the daily routine of moving my body the same way 12,000 times in a row. It has become a way of life, and as a way of life I find myself falling back onto these journeys to rediscover myself every few months. I’ve been on bicycles, hikes, walked thousands of miles and even rode a unicycle across the US, but there’s something special about the water and following it like a road for so long, as if I’m building a relationship with the world much closer than I could from the rubber of a tire or through the soles of my shoes.

As time does what it does best, it’s come to my attention that my fleeting moments in society have been spent and for yet another season I’m called to drift slowly down a waterway characterized by an ever flowing dynamism. The month before I leave for this expedition, I spend with loved ones, creating memories and preparing for the hardship to come. My parents taught me how to cook when I was young, so now when I visit I enjoy preparing meals for the both of them. I also use these skills to prepare my own provisions for the first sections. My father and I make recipes each year for venison jerky, dehydrated meats and fish, fruit and other preserved foods. These foods will sustain me for the first few months, which is as much as I can carry.

The great part about canoeing is that you have far more space than that of a bicycle or backpack. You don’t necessarily want to bring your television but as far as practicality goes, you can last far longer on your own without restocking compared to any other human powered transportation. There’s also the nature aspect of traveling in a boat, how much more quiet can you be than on the water? The abundance of wildlife you get to experience simply by being a silent force, especially on rivers. I reminisce fondly of my time on The Mississippi, where each day brought a splendor of creatures to visit you along your journey.

There was a time I recall when I had begun my day one early July morning, and just a few hundred yards down the waterway, I spotted a large stag, unaware of my presence as I slowly floated closer and closer. As I approached I could make out more of his features, his large velvety antlers towering over a war horse-like figure, standing there proud in the middle of the river, picking up on my scent as I’m only within a couple hundred feet now. The sun is rising behind me, so I hold the advantage in this glorious moment as he’s blinded to spot me in the horizon. Although, two does from the East call to the buck, alerting him of the unknown danger. I watch as he gallops through the shallow waters and back into the green Minnesota forest. \

These moments are what I live for out here, and perhaps part of what I search for on a voyage like this. I am looking forward with a tenacious craving because early the next morning, I will leave from a small town on Lake Michigan, due East for as far as my young body can endure.

My first passage will begin on the crossing of Little Bay De Noc and Big Bay De Noc, spanning just over 6 and 14 miles. It was towards the middle of the second crossing nearly seven miles away from shore when I was reminded of that harmopnious music that plays only in the quietest of places. It’s a song that can be heard in the absence of noise, and the emotion it makes you feel can be described as serenity, as no one can hurt you here. Some would describe it as natures song, a tone that pairs well with the calls of birds or crashing of waves against a shoreline.

The noise of the city makes no room for these songs, and for many, natures symphony is long forgotten. It has been a year since I’ve stepped foot in this canoe, and a year since I’ve heard the whispers of the water. After these 20 miles of crossings, I’ve reached my first campsite; a remote beach with no road access. It’s damp, littered with mosquitos, and there’s no firewood, but to me, this is paradise. I don’t know what’s to come, and there are many things I have yet to learn if I hope to succeed in my journey, but for now it’s just me, this wooden paddle, and a world of water to explore.

Follow him here: www.whereispeterfrank.com