Hans Frischeisen paddled 500 miles on the Mississippi River before a tugboat convinced him to head back to Ottawa, Iowa — for now.

OTTUMWA, Iowa — Hans Frischeisen won’t give up his journey. He does, however, take breaks. This year’s break came a little more abruptly than he would have liked.

Frischeisen of Ottumwa and Reno, Nevada, is a 76-year-old fitness enthusiast who has biked across the United States four times. Now he’s planning to try for a third time to complete a north-to-south trip by kayak along the Mississippi River.

His reason for starting these new adventures, he said, is simple: “I think I wanted to do some things that not everybody is doing,” he said. “I was a new (German) immigrant to this country. Maybe that motivated me to try it.”

After deciding to paddle from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico, the retired nutrition-business owner kayaked last September to the bottom of Illinois near the Iowa border. He then caught a ride to Ottumwa, Iowa, to meet up with his wife.

“My wife … is from Ottumwa, and wanted to visit family here,” Frischeisen said. He had actually gone into Peoria first, and considered that the stopping point on his journey.

This year, again in September, the adventurer restarted his journey where he’d paused.

He is traveling roughly 500 miles at a pace of about 3 miles per hour, and a typical day saw him paddling 12 hours. He saved time — or, perhaps, passed the time — writing, shaving and brushing his teeth, all while floating along. He even took an occasional nap — without, of course, cruise control.

His boat is low-tech, made of waxed canvas with a wooden frame. A pair of guys also kayaking on the Mississippi had become occasional traveling companions. They had really nice, high-tech boats. They also had GPS.

“All I had was a AAA road map,” said Frischeisen.

That, and the idea that he was going to enjoy himself.

“I don’t know what bored is,” he said recently during another stay in Ottumwa. “I met some people here and there; I was always shown loving kindness. And I had things to do.”

Tending to his boat, setting up camp, eating and getting some sleep took time ashore, of course. And he told himself that this time, he would keep a diary.

“Sometimes, I’d write a little as I floated along. There were days I didn’t see another (boat); just barges, three or four a day. I’d wave, they’d wave back or blow their horn.”

One particular tugboat made him decide he’d had enough for this year’s leg of the journey.

Frischeisen saw the big, flat barges heading toward him, dozens in a row, hustled along by a tug. It was coming too close for comfort. He decided to cut toward shore. The pilot decided he’d avoid the Ottumwa kayaker — also by turning toward shore.

“I started paddling like crazy,” Frischeisen said. “I almost made it. Another 12 feet … ”

He said the barge rolled right over him and his kayak. He kept rolling, tumbling.

“I could see the bottom of the barge; very ugly, but I could also see light.”

When he finally stopped rolling, he said, he pulled himself to the edge of the boat’s underside, only a few feet away. His shoes were knocked off, his clothes wet and torn; his cellphone now resides on the bottom of the Mississippi River. But he popped up. Roughly 40 feet away, so did his cracked, scraped and punctured canvas kayak.

So whose fault was it? The US Coast Guard station in Memphis told the Ottumwa, Iowa Courier accident reports can be obtained only after filing, in writing, a Freedom of Information Act request.

Frischeisen said he would bill the barge company for a new kayak. Not that the tug crew was bad to him: They pulled him aboard, got him a change of clothes, new shoes and something hot to drink.

His kayak companions were staying a little farther along the river for a conference in Memphis. They offered him their spare bed.

After that harrowing experience, Frischeisen decided it was time to go home. The city of Memphis had access to one mode of transportation that would get him to Wapello County while giving him a chance to relax: a train station.

“I took Amtrak right into Ottumwa,” he said.

Has the 76-year-old given up his idea of making it to Louisiana?

“What do you think?” he said. “Of course not.”

Newman writes for the Ottumwa, Iowa Courier.