In early August 2001 we were experiencing one of those classic dog day weather patterns -- high humidity and temps closing in on the triple-digit mark. Outdoor activity in this type of weather isn't for the faint of heart or the intelligent, so when I pulled into the little town of Hennepin just after sunrise and ran into almost 100 kayakers and canoers getting ready to launch their boats, I was stunned.

This was my introduction to the Great River Rumble, an annual week-long event each summer on rivers in the Midwest. The 2001 trip ran from Starved Rock to Beardstown, and like all Rumbles, covered about 125 miles of paddling over seven days. I was to hear many times from Rumble veterans the 2001 trip was one of the toughest trips in the 13-year history of the event. The heat, Asian carp and slow, hot river conditions made for a tough week.

Since the chance meeting in 2001, I had placed the Rumble high on the list of adventures I really wanted to do, but it always seemed like other rivers and other trips got in the way of devoting an entire week for the Rumble. But 2007 was my summer to paddle and camp, so after a three-week kayaking trip in Canada with my son, I decided to repack my gear and join this year's Rumble on the Des Moines and Mississippi rivers.

On a hot Saturday afternoon the last weekend in July, I found myself unloading my gear in Selma, Iowa, a town so small I was surprised it showed up on my GPS. Selma was nothing more than a few homes, an ancient meeting hall, a boat ramp on the Des Moines and for the next few hours the headquarters of this year's Rumble.

I was a little bit nervous and all alone. I had lots of questions. What about showers, ice, a schedule? I'm a die-hard, dirt-ball traveler. It doesn't take much to make me happy, but my mood can also go south quickly. I'm a schoolteacher who lives by the clock. I don't like slow, and unorganized gets me grumpy. The few people who can handle traveling with me will tell you I'm used to doing things "Dave's Way."

I was worried about travel the "Rumble Way."

The worry didn't last long. After everyone settled in Saturday, we were fed, and entertained (a major perk of the trip) and then we received our first orientation of the week, an event that was a daily standard.

I was told a little bit about each landing, the mileage, river conditions. It was made clear in all the organizational material this was not a lazy river float. This was a river paddle with about 20 miles to cover daily. As Rex Klein, president of the Rumble organization, said to us the first day, "We are going to treat you like adults. We aren't going to be taking roll call and counting heads."

Wakeup would be at 5 a.m., breakfast at 6 a.m., gear on the truck and boats on the water and ready to go by 7:30 a.m. Each day there would be a designated lead boat, sweep boat and safety boats on the water to help keep the pack together and provide for the health and safety of this large group.

I found out the next morning this was an organization committed to schedule. The Rumble had places to go and things to do. Within two hours our camp for the evening disappeared, swallowed up into a big Budget rental truck under the watchful eye of our cargomaster for the week, Jim. Breakfast was served, and by 7:15 a.m. I was sitting in my kayak on the Des Moines River.

At 7:30 a.m. our leader, Rex, and his paddling partner of the day took their place at the front of the colorful assortment of canoes and kayaks, many of them decorated with flowers, squeaky toys, inflatables and flags. Rex's canoe flew a flag that read "The Rexster."

As Rex coasted into his lead spot, he sounded an air horn and we were off. The brochure was right: this wasn't a float. Paddle, morning break, paddle, lunch break, paddle, afternoon break, paddle and around three in the afternoon it would be time for the evening landing. The miles cranked away quickly. Every few miles Rex would slow things down allowing the end of the pack to join with the lead and also give us time to rest and participate in one of the favorite activities of the Rumble -- water fights. Almost everyone carried some form of water cannon, and for a few minutes several times a day the water would turn into a battle zone.

The other major activity on the river was the art of conversation. As the miles slipped by you could always find someone who wanted to chat and paddle at your pace. You could also find all the solitude you wanted. I paddled and chatted with someone new every day and at the same time developed a few regular partners that I always looked forward to paddling with.

The first days on the Des Moines River were splendid. The Des Moines has very little development along the banks, lots of wildlife, huge sandbars and a great view around every turn. The landings for each night were classic small Midwest towns.

On Tuesday we pulled into St. Francisville, Mo., a spot on the map that consisted of nothing more than a DNR boat landing, a block-long patch of grass, one gas station and a bar.

These are the kind of remote areas that really stretch the organizational skill of the Rumble. Where the heck do you feed, shower and find enough ice for over 100 people. Answer -- the Broken Arrow Bar and a gas station-store. The great folks at the bar put on one of the best feeds of our trip -- barbecued pork and chicken plus all the fresh garden extras you could imagine. Our landing committee also talked the recalcitrant owner of the inconvenient convenient store to stay open a little later and then reopen at 5 a.m. the next morning.

At each landing I had developed a routine of partnering with two Rumble veterans -- Eric and Captain K. These two great guys had been nice enough to adopt me and Mike, a fellow teacher and talented guitar player from Kansas City. They all brought something to the group that made each evening a pleasurable experience.

One thing the two veterans shared with me early on was that on the Rumble, canoeing or kayaking is secondary. The paddling is what you do between good meals, good conversations, and experiencing the hospitality and beauty of the Midwest.

They also personified the real secret of the Rumble, the ingredient that brought so many people back each year to burn a week of vacation time being hot, wet, and tired -- it was the camaraderie. It was so refreshing to spend one week with people my age who just purely loved doing the things I love to do. The thrill of being on the water -- any water, goofing around like kids, pitching a tent, showering from a hose, and sharing a drink and a song at the end of a tough day.

That lesson was really brought home to me at the end of Thursday. We had just passed through Lock 20 above Canton, Mo. I was tired, my left shoulder was hurting, and the worse was yet to come -- our campsite for the evening had no shade. I then spent a tough hour on a stiflingly hot school bus procuring ice and something cold to drink. On my way back to the landing it started to pour. Thoroughly dejected, I headed back toward my tent to put on my rainfly, figuring by the time I got there my sleeping gear would be soaked. It wasn't. Eric had taken the time to put my rainfly over my tent and make sure my gear was secured.

We ended that evening listening to a bluegrass band called the Dirt Road Rascals and then, as the sun went down watching the American Queen, the largest stern-wheeler on the river, lock through and pass in front of our camp, treating us to one of the greatest shows on the river. To paraphrase Captain K and the Old Milwaukee commercial, "It really doesn't get any better."

On Saturday, after a passage through Lock 21 below Quincy and 20 miles of fast-paced paddling, our group joined under the I-72 bridge above Hannibal, Mo. On the shore our friends and families were waiting. Behind us were 125 miles of river, seven campsites in three states, and a boatload full of memories.

In true Rumble Way, the week wasn't over. After a few hours off the river and a chance to get cleaned up, the Rumble ends with a banquet. This one was held in a beautiful renovated theater in Hannibal. It was the last chance for old friends and new friends to relax, celebrate the week, and to say goodbye, or should I say, " See you next year on the 2008 Great River Rumble."

DAVE NEPS of Ottawa is a former member of The Times Write Team who loves the outdoors and is a teacher at Shepherd Middle School in Ottawa.