By Cassidy Akers, Sam Shelton & Margo Roysdon
This story is a part of the Cincinnati’s Storytelling of Journalism project, which represents a collaboration between Northern Kentucky University (NKU) journalism students, the NKU Chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists, and the Greater Cincinnati Chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists.
For the project, students interviewed seven professional journalist winners and finalists from the Greater Cincinnati SPJ Chapter’s 2021 Excellence in Journalism Awards to create Nieman Storyboard Annotations-inspired Q&As and story annotations that analyze and celebrate our region’s best works of journalism.
2021 Excellence in Journalism Award: Best Feature Story Finalist
Journalist: Carrie Blackmore Smith, Cincinnati Magazine
Story: Go with the flow: Paddling the Ohio River Recreation Trail
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| Photograph By Joe Wolek |
Canoeing for days down a rushing river with random strangers you barely know may not sound like your style, but for Carrie Blackmore Smith, it was just another day on the job.
As a freelance writer who focuses on social issues and environmental reporting, Smith is an adventurer at heart who looks for stories that see people engaging in the natural environment around them.
Back in the summer of 2019, well before the ongoing pandemic, Smith was invited to paddle down the Ohio River with a group looking to develop the Ohio River Recreation Trail, a 274-mile water trail from Portsmouth to just past Louisville that’s accessible by canoe, kayak, stand-up paddleboard, and motorboat, as well as road bike, motorcycle, and car.
Smith was out on the trail for days capturing the experience of what it was like to paddle
down the river. Feelings of exhaustion from long days spent paddling each day are interwoven with the passing through of relatively unknown river towns ripe with character.
As a journalist, Smith admits she was unused to being a part of the action. Like the rest of the group, she received a packing guide, listing things like sunscreen, a life vest, snacks (of course), and camping gear for their voyages ashore. Smith’s preparation differed though, given her position, she also invested in a waterproof camera, a flotation device for said camera, waterproof notepads and pens to capture their journey. Smith notes that out on a physical voyage such as this, “You don't have a lot of time to sit and put your thoughts together,” because you’re working as a team and exhausted by the time you reach shore for the night.
NKU Students Margo Roysdon, Cassidy Akers, and Sam Shelton sat down with Smith to talk about how she prepared for her reporting trip, how to find the theme of a story, and tips she has for others looking to write more narrative-based stories. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity and is followed by an annotation of the narrative.
How did you prepare for this journey along the Ohio River? What all did you bring to help in writing the story?
Fortunately, because they have done this a couple times, they had a packing guide of the things that we could bring or should bring. They were very well organized. So, I had to pack for logistics of living on a boat and in a tent, I had to buy a personal flotation device then I had to bring sunscreen, hats, gloves and all of these things that I had not thought of as I've kayaked, but I've never been out on the water for hours on end. So I had to buy some gear and then I had to pack things in two separate packs: One that would go with our dry pack that stayed with our camping stuff and one that went with us on the boat. They told us to bring some snacks on the boat because we wouldn't be eating for sometimes for a while, but they gave us a really good list. I can't say that I worked out or anything to get more physically able for it, but I survived it.
Did you find yourself making sure not to become a part of the narrative?
One time in particular when the group was hanging around after a long day of paddling,
everyone was having a beer, someone was playing a guitar and they start discussing what
politically they would need to do to push through this trail and started asking me questions as
someone in the media how I would word it. I had to make it clear that I was not going to join
the board or be part of the organization and that I was on the outside as the media.
This story is about paddling down the Ohio River, but at its core it’s about much more. At what point in the reporting process did you discover the theme of this story?
I would say it happened as I was going through all my material, just looking at what I had and thinking, “what is the story that I want to tell out of all of this?” I think when you're going into an experience like this, you can try and think about maybe what you're going to see and what you're going to hear and what you're going to do, but until you just do it it's like it's almost pointless. I mean it's getting yourself ready to be open-minded, I guess, and just not approaching a story with any predispositions. And I think that's something I've always tried to do with every story, is I try not to go into it thinking it's going to be a certain way. The more you know a topic, the easier it is to have some idea going in. But staying open minded to what you're going to find out is important.
What tips would you give when it comes to writing narrative stories?
I always think it's best to try and write it as fresh as you can. Even if I just go and do one part of
a story just like coming back and at least putting all the highlights down in crisp detail. I take
a lot of videos and I take a lot of photos that help me go back and transport myself back.
Usually whenever I'm writing a really detailed description like the lead of this story where you
know going into those situations, I almost always just try to be documenting the whole thing so
that it's super accurate and then if I ever get to a point in a story where I need to describe
something and I either don’t have the memory or the notes or the photos or whatever else, I
just don't attempt it because our memories can be foggy. The best thing to do is to write it right
away when it is clear.
Go with the flow: Paddling the Ohio River Recreation Trail
By Carrie Blackmore Smith, Cincinnati Magazine
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| Photograph By Joe Wolek |
We must be a sight, huddled in a spitting rain in three 10-person canoes, one decorated with an American flag, one the seal of Cincinnati, and the other the seal of Louisville. A TV cameraman captures our entrance to the gigantic Markland Locks and Dam on the Ohio River at Warsaw, Kentucky. Lock operators surely are more accustomed to seeing coal barges and tugboats than this motley flotilla.
Question: What made you decide this was how you wanted to start the story?
Smith: This was one of the most poignant parts of the trip. It was just surreal and was one of those experiences you have where you’re like am I really here? Is this really happening? It’s just this beautiful, pristine view of the river and it’s just one of those moments that you’re kind of like in this pinch yourself moment. I also thought this would get peoples’ attention and you just have to capture them and keep them in.
A horn sounds one long blast, our signal to enter the lock, as tall as a brachiosaurus and built in the 1950s. Once inside, it’s clear that the river moves big cargo—about 630 million tons valued at more than $73 billion a year, according to the Ohio Department of Transportation. Massive metal doors close behind us, securing us inside a concrete pen. A boatmate hands me a plastic blow-up monkey. She has a toucan and a palm tree as well. “We’re the party boat,” she jokes.
Question: How did you become so well versed in the terminology, was it on site through experience, or through background research? Phrases like, “motley flotilla,” and moorings are of course very niche to boating.
Smith: You know, it's funny. I remember that I had to look it up. Because I did not write in my notes, like, “the Horn sounds one long blast.” I just remembered it, but I needed to go back and make sure that that's what happened, you know when they sound it that it’s the signal and to the lock. I remember looking that up and double checking that. And that was like in some sort of nautical thing I found that verified it. And I mean the moorings, some of these terms I knew like flotilla is funny enough, it's just always been kind of a word I thought was funny.
In my day I just knew what a flotilla was, and I just thought we were you know- usually, when you think of flotilla you're thinking of like battleships or like a group of boats- but probably not a group of 10 people kayaking. So, I thought that we kind of seem like a motley crew, so the molly flotilla kind of term popped into my head. But whenever I'm talking about something technical like boating terms, shipping terms, things like that I always look things up by definition and where I need to, I'll talk to experts who are knowledgeable about those types of things. So, I can verify that I'm using the right language and the right words, that is important.
Safely inside the lock, we tie up to the correct moorings. The wrong ones are stationary and would leave our boats hanging once the water drains. Steel gears screech as we drop roughly 35 feet to meet the water level on the downriver side of the dam. The doors open, and we paddle on toward Louisville. Another 70 miles to go.
Question: Was there any part of this trip that you thought that someone could really get hurt and has the potential to happen on this trip?
Smith: There was, I didn't write about this because I didn't want to get into it but there were two solo kayakers that came along on the trip with us and they were kind of testing their abilities because they were planning to do a paddle of the entire Mississippi River to raise money for mental health awareness. There was one point where one of them got stranded and just ran out of his own personal gas in the middle of the river and there was a barge coming. You're supposed to stay very, very far from the barges because they cannot move, they can't stop, they can't turn. They are the big dogs on the river. You stay out of their way and so this barge guy came up behind us and over his like loudspeaker he just started cussing at us and telling us he's going to call the Coast Guard on us and just screaming at us over this thing and we're all just like ‘what did we do?’ you know like what is this guy’s deal? We're not doing anything wrong. So that was the only time I'd say there was any danger. There was some bad wind like once and it was just really exhausting.
This trip, taken in June 2019, is a promotional excursion for the Ohio River Recreation Trail, an idea born from like minded water babies in Cincinnati and Louisville. The Cincinnati folks organize Paddlefest, a day in early August when roughly 2,000 people take over a stretch of river near downtown. Louisville has an active paddle-sport community—sailboat clubs, even—as its stretch of the river is more lake-like. Together, they want to usher in a new era on the Ohio River, one where the waterway is seen as a place for recreation, respite, and adventure, and not merely as a thoroughfare for industry. They hope to create a 274-mile water trail stretching from Portsmouth to a little past Louisville (with Cincinnati about halfway) that’s accessible by canoe, kayak, stand-up paddleboard, and motorboat, as well as road bike, motorcycle, and car.
Question: Are you talking about Portsmouth, Ohio? I am from that area and I had no idea about this!
Carrie: I didn't want to clog the story up in it too much, but there were two legs of the trip. And about half of the people did the whole thing, so the whole 300 and whatever miles, they started I think a little north of Portsmouth. And then they picked up the majority of us in Cincinnati. I joined at the Cincinnati mark and most people did. Unfortunately I didn't get to do the whole thing. The whole thing took a week and I was out with them for three nights and four days.
What they need now is to drum up interest—get people’s attention and support and also become more familiar themselves with the proposed trail’s opportunities and challenges. What better way than paddling the whole thing in a little over a week? The group had access to three river-worthy Voyageur canoes, and they just needed to fill them. They invited anyone with the guts to go until every seat was taken.
Question: With a topic like river paddling, not all readers are jumping to read this one. What specific techniques or details do you feel elevated this story despite the niche topic?
Smith: I think that, whenever I write, I mean because I've always written for a general audience- whether it be at the newspaper, or at the magazine- what I want is my audience to be whoever can pick it up. So, I just want whoever picks it up to be like, “I never even thought about paddling the Ohio river,” or, “oh, I'm really into paddling the Ohio river,” or, “who the heck would ever do that!” Just get anybody that would pick it up to say, “oh well, this is a story I wasn't expecting to read,” and then think about it from that perspective. The number one thing you always need to think about is whoever you're writing for, you need to think about who your audience is. Because, as a general audience, I really just wanted to share an experience with them, they might never have and make it, you know, as engaging as it was because it was certainly an interesting experience.
Locks like the Markland completely changed the Ohio River. When Lewis and Clark took the Ohio River to start their expedition west, they dragged their boats at times through shallow water. The first locks system, installed between 1885 and 1929, raised water levels for easier navigation. Dozens of smaller locks were replaced with larger ones like Markland in the 1950s—raising water levels to improve flood protection and allow materials like coal and salt to be transported on large barges.
Question: I like the addition of historical tidbits such as this to add additional context to stories. When it came to these tidbits, where did you do your research? Was it someone in the group or doing the search afterwards?
Smith: Some of it I kind of knew going into it because I've written about the river quite a lot in the last ten years or so and then a lot of it just came as little tidbits that got dropped along the way on the trail when we were there. I forget which it was that the guy that did the electric chair lived there or whatever like those types of things you just can't know until you go and do it and then like again just whenever you kind of have those a-ha moments. I just try to put a star on it and say this just really made me go ‘what?’ and so I do remember that. I mean the one thing that was a little challenging was afterward I needed to go back and just verify all this stuff because one person told me this, doesn't mean that it's true. You hopefully trust this, the historian and people, but you need to double check it and some of this stuff was kind of obscure. So I do remember the fact checking on this one that got a little bumpy.
We paddle away from the dam, which continues churning out hydroelectric power, and look toward a wooded scene. It’s midday Friday, and we’re back in a synchronized groove. Close your eyes and listen, and you can find the rhythm and keep paddling. Rest a little when your arms get tired, and then start going again. “To think,” says Tracy, the boatmate who passed out the blow-up toys, “our friends are sitting at their desks at work.”
At the end of the 32-mile day we pull up to Vevay, Indiana, where later we’ll bandage blisters on our hands and rub muscle cream on sore shoulders before sleeping on the ground in tents. A man wearing a red “Make Vevay Great Again” hat greets us with a box of homemade cookies. “Come on up,” he says. “Let’s get you out of the rain.”
Warm welcomes seem to be a thing in river towns. As we step from the canoes in Rising Sun, Indiana, a woman zips by in a golf cart and offers some of us a little tour. Tracy and I go for it. The main street faces the river, and like many of these towns, Rising Sun has a colorful history. Our driver points out a mansion built by someone who got rich at the nearby casino.
Question: When did you realize along this path that you are also telling the stories of these small river towns?
Smith: I remember when I was doing this, I really wanted to explain the Ohio river's place and the Underground Railroad and all that it is a big part of these towns and it's a big part of the history of the river but some of that stuff is kind of like I mean like you have to track down the historical marker information and stuff like that so I remember that that was a little bit of a challenge, but it was something that I wanted to consciously do because I feel like you can't talk about the river and history without that.
Later, our entire group gets an official tour by a local historian, who shows us one of the oldest log structures still standing in Indiana, as well as Smith Riggs’s house. Riggs was a well-known blacksmith and woodworker whom the state commissioned to build two new “humane” electric chairs in 1928. He always felt bad about his invention, the historian tells us, but apparently the money was good.
A few days later in Vevay, we’re shown to the park’s bathhouse for a hot shower, then served homemade pulled pork sandwiches, mac and cheese, and lasagna by the community’s fire department. In another town, the mayor cracks open a rare bottle of whiskey for the group. In Westport, Kentucky, the owner of Knock on Wood Café closes shop to serve us a Mexican-themed feast, a welcome change from our usual diet of trail mix, fruit chews, and jerky.
Question: Whenever you meet new people in these situations, do you need to tell them you’re a reporter or does it just come out in conversation naturally?
Smith: I think it's important. I try, whenever I'm in my reporting role, to make sure it's clear that I'm a reporter. With that said, do I think that every single person I met along the way on this trip that I was like “oh, by the way, I'm a reporter?” maybe not. I mean certainly everyone I was with on the trip knew I was a journalist and I made it very clear that I was not part of the organization, nor was I wanting to become a part of the organization. In general, when I'm talking to people and certainly when I'm going to include them in an article they're going to know that I spoke with them that I'm a journalist. I mean it just kind of depends on the situation and the person, you know you have to consider whether they're public figures or private figures.
There are more than 50 river towns along the Ohio River Recreation Trail, each with its own unique history, quirks, and local characters. Madison, Indiana, has 133 continuous blocks of architecture on the National Register of Historic Places, plus a great little diner, Hinkle’s Sandwich Shop.
The Ohio River also signifies an important border between the North and the South. Pre–Civil War, it was the dividing line between slave states and free-soil states and so was crawling with patrollers and slave hunters. It’s also home to key Underground Railroad sites such as the Rankin House, which overlooks the river in Ripley, Ohio.
Ohio was a free state, but slaves could still be apprehended under the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850. John Rankin and his family sheltered an estimated 2,000 slaves on their way to Canada; they arrived by boat, ferried over the river by an Underground Railroad conductor in Kentucky, and took what was called “100 steps to freedom” up the banks to the Rankin estate. Today, all of it is a museum.
Places like this get noted on navigational charts as the group makes its way downstream. They are currently working to create an online digital guide to help others see all of the river trail’s historic and recreational highlights.
Back in Vevay, after the firemen’s dinner, the paddlers break up in groups and head into town. There’s a midsummer festival going on that includes a small circus where a woman eats a live cockroach. Many of the businesses are open, including a woodshop that smells of sawdust and has what seems like endless stacks of wood and tiny drawers holding hardware, knobs, and such.
Question: Were there certain river towns that stuck out to you as ones that must be included to reveal the implied value of the recreation trail? Or did you just include the ones the group stopped at considering there are 50-plus?
Smith: I tried to include some information about the towns that I didn't visit because I wasn't on the first half of the trip. So, all of the real-life experiences that you read, all the really descriptive parts were obviously on the second half of the trip because I wasn't going to try and fabricate what happened when I wasn't there. I don't know that I mentioned every town that we stopped in. You just kind of lead with what sticks out as something that I want to tell people about. Like I thought the stopping in Vevay and the guy having them ‘Make Vevay Great again’ hat. He was such a nice guy—I mean he gave us cookies. I just really wanted to connect. I always try to think how we're all here together, we're all here, this is our community. There are not certain parts of it that are right or wrong, it is what it is. I want to characterize it as honestly, as I can you know, without bias. And so whatever kind of popped up town-to-town that seemed relevant, I tried to include.
A group of female paddlers talks of coming back to Vevay and some of the other town’s we’ve visited, doing a two- or three-day excursion and staying in some lovely bed and breakfast spots we’ve seen. It’s incredible how close you can get when you’re stuck in boats together for hours on end.
Suddenly, I was getting stabbed,” Joe Wolek tells me during one of the times we sit together on the paddle. He’s a photographer and videographer documenting the journey for the group and for a Louisville gallery show.
Wolek was celebrating his 54th birthday with a trip to Argentina and was taking photographs in Buenos Aires when thieves robbed him, stabbing him 10 times in the chest and puncturing his heart and a lung. He’s sure he would have died there in the street had it not been for an off-duty police officer who called for help and the surgeon and medical staff who saved his life. He has a new lease—and outlook—on life.
There’s much to learn from one another, truth be told. Tear down camp in the rain, share equipment and food, take potty breaks in the woods together, and you can’t help but get close. It’s sort of like those fast teenage friendships made at summer camp.
I want to award a medal for bravery to a woman from Chicago who didn’t know a soul when she signed up. Relatives who live in Vevay saw a flyer the organizers put up months before the trip, announcing when they’d be coming through the area and inviting everyone to join their adventure. This woman used to paddle in her younger years, and she was encouraged to do it. And so she does. She ends up as one of the older paddlers in the bunch.
Just before our boats get to the Markland Locks and Dam, we notice a group of men yelling something at us from shore. We finally make out that they’re yelling, “Chris!” But there are no Chrises in our group. Then Kristin, the woman from Chicago, looks up from paddling and over at the men. They’re her brothers, who have flown in from all over the country to see her pull into Vevay, and she’s completely surprised. We all have tears in our eyes.
Question: What value do you feel that including these personal quips about the group members adds to the story that it otherwise would be lacking?
Smith: I knew I needed to give people some background on the group and all that but I didn't want to get too far into that and bore people. I wanted to immediately come to some good examples and storytelling. So, I decided to break that story into the river and the towns. How the rivers changed over the years and how you know we couldn't even be doing this if man hadn't changed the river. Just kind of give people a sense of the river and the place and then the second section I decided would be the people that I did it with. Talk about them because they made that experience what it was. And also what made it so great.
Our equipment trailer driver helps lead crisis response missions in disaster areas across the world. We have a Louisville city councilman aboard. Two people work at summer camps for children with disabilities. We take turns being captain, when you sit in back and keep the canoe going as straight as possible while eight or nine people try to paddle in sync. It can get frustrating. More experienced paddlers offer advice and words of encouragement to us novices.
We’re all ages and genders, including one transgender member, but one thing connects us all: admiration for the Ohio River. We end up with strong bonds to one another and to the places we visit. Tracy and I have lunch a few months later in Cincinnati before she catches a flight out of CVG. I ask her what her most memorable experience was from this summer trip, and she says the poverty she saw in some of the towns between Portsmouth and Cincinnati. She hopes a fully developed river trail will help those local economies and the residents she met there.
On our last night, there’s a robust discussion about how to make the Ohio River Recreation Trail a reality. The group agrees that, at this point, it’s irresponsible to say to just anyone, “Hey, go try this!” Most people wouldn’t do the whole thing at once, sure, but they also wouldn’t have a safety boat or an equipment trailer carrying gear, water, and food. Most of the places we stay—with public restrooms and warm restaurants nearby—aren’t normally open to campers.
The river isn’t well marked. Disregard for barge and motorboat etiquette and rules can get you killed, as can the roads without berms that hug the riverbanks, a danger for cyclists following the water trail. And so much is dependent on the weather. We luck out, really, but previous paddlers on this trip have found harsh conditions, with wind, lightning storms, and glaring sun.
Still, can’t the group start talking to landowners along the way to identify places to camp safely? Can’t they strengthen relationships with folks in the barge industry to be sure everyone plays well together? Can’t they raise money for navigational signs, small docks, and welcome signs for people coming off the water to a river town? The group starts to prioritize.
We launch for the last time the next morning, and Mother Nature gives us a reminder of why the river’s majesty is worth sharing. In a light rain, a rainbow springs out of the water next to our boats and arches over our path to Louisville.
In November, the group received news it had been waiting for: It was accepted into the National Park Service Rivers, Trails, and Conservation Assistance Program. The relationship will provide technical assistance to help create the trail that the group wants to be fully operational in 2021.
Organizers plan to build on their momentum with another trip this summer to continue visualizing a trail that’s safe, accessible, and fun for all. I’m sure it’ll be epic. I might do it again.
Question: How did you come to the conclusion to end the story the way that you did?
Smith: The ending, I think it probably could have been better. I remember working with the editor on it a little bit and I think I didn't have what I wanted to close it, but I wasn't sure exactly how to close it. I felt like that example of us going towards Louisville with the rainbow was an incredible experience. When I went back to say what parts of this trip do I want to tell people about, the rainbow, the lock, the weird town stuff was just like the stuff that really stuck out to me when I was doing it and made the whole experience so magical.
