They're only words on a map

Before Adam and I left the park at the mouth of the Ohio, I was up in the observation tower and heard a boat coming down the Upper Mississippi. Adam ran down to the river's edge to get a photo in case it turned up the Ohio, but it didn't. The M/V Mary Parker kept on going down the Miss.

That red navigation light in the lower left part of the picture is supposed to mark the end of the Ohio, I guess. But if you've seen the mouths of rivers and even creeks, you know the river doesn't end where a guy draws a line on a map. It ends when its waters mingle with and can't be distinguished from what flows down from the other river.

This day, I didn't know where that mixing zone was or how far it extended. It would have been nice to know, but I already knew the "Ohio" extended somewhere off into the distance out there. Where it ends and the combined waters of the Ohio and the Mississippi make a greater river, I don't know. Because that boundary changes every day, it really didn't matter.

Actually, it did. But there was no way to find out, and it was time to move on.

It was off to Olmstead.