Final Fairwell

After many years of dreaming, months of planning and a summer of blissful living, the Mississippi odyssey has come to an end. It is bitter sweet. Satisfied? Yes I am. From the beginning I knew this trip would be awesome but it surpassed my expectations with ease and magnitude. The scenery was exquisite. Long drawn out bends of river were bound only by the sky's border and her waters swept across the world creating a sense of wilderness that I had not expected. Tornados gave way to tug boats, and dams transformed into dikes, but one thing remained constant through the entire trip, generosity, which I encountered relentlessly from all the people who I met along the way. I am grateful for their friendship and couldn’t have done without. Big Getter’s design, functionality and reliability allowed solid comfort and evoked confidence as I snaked 1800 miles through the flood of ’08 ever approaching the Gulf of Mexico. I am now bonded to part of our country that I had previously not known. The Mississippi River is in my memories and in my soul.

Day 84 - Still loading up

Stripped screws made taking the decking off a bit of a problem

 Big Getter's Gear

Well, it was a big job and I couldn't have done it without Aaron and Kathy's help. Aaron drove over from Houston to help me break down the boat and load it up. He got in about dark last night and although Kathy and I had gotten a big portion of the work done there was still a few hour left to do. The sun set on us faster than we had expected last night so we left the decking, frame and pontoons still attached and sitting in the water. The task of removing the deck was a bit of a puzzle and took some additional tools that we picked up this morning. We set to work and after sweating it out for four hours, Big Getter was unrecognizably jammed into the back of 16 foot Penske truck. We hugged each other and then climbed into the air-conditioned car and headed off to the hotel for a proper shower. 

Day 83, 12 Miles - Algiers lock to take out

A sad sight

Algiers Canal and boat ramp

I woke up and sprang into action all in one solid motion. I knew what a big task it was going to be to disassemble the boat, rent a truck and pack it up. Not to mention finding a place to take the boat out of the water. Kathy was already up and making coffee when I called the lock master, "Big Getter to Algiers Lock." "Algiers back," said the lock master. "I'd like to lock through west bound." "Where you at Skipper?" "Im tied up to the dolphin (a little lingo I learned along the way)" "Which dock?" He asked. "No, Im tied up to the dolphin, and am heading west." "I don't know which dock that is." Well shit, I just waited a second to see if he would put it together and then the radio waves were interrupted by a third voice. It was the tug boat pilot who had just locked through and had seen us. He said in twisted slurry speak, "tha tied up short 'all dolphin riverside." "oh" said the lock master "getcha through in ten Big Getter." I guess the lingo just ain't enough. We enjoyed locking through and were traversing the, as I expected, very skinny canal. It wasn't for a couple of hours before we passed the first boat ramp. It was a sliver of a ramp and in between a barge repair company and some other kind of refinishing place. "This is it," I declared and we started the process of disassembling our home and refuge with heavy hearts. 

More soon

I apologize for the void in my posts. I can't blame it on the blogosphere, but I have been very busy with taking the boat out of the water and getting it back to Texas. There is a blog finale coming in the next day or two, so stay tuned and thanks for traveling down the river with me.

Day 82, MM 123 to Algiers Canal (MM89)

It was a stressful day on two accounts, one, the sheer number of barges and ships that could squish us deader than a mackerel, and two, I still hadn't determined where I could take the Getter out of the water. Both my mom and my dad had been researching possible take out locations but they were turning up the same results I had. Either the facilities were too far away, inaccessible or non-existent. My only chance were some boat ramps on the intercoastal waterway after the Harvey and Algiers canals meet. I could navigate up the Harvey canal but we would miss downtown New Orleans altogether so I decided to go the extra ten miles down to the Algiers. The traffic was heavy and it was hard to relax. In-fact I would have gone right by downtown unbeknownst if Kathy hadn't tuned me into it. She urged me to pull over on a sand bar opposite the city and between the view and a celebratory drink my nerves settled quite a bit. I couldn't believe the trip was coming to an end. Three months ago I couldn't have even imagine this moment. I reveled in the summer's accomplishments and adventures and felt sad but equally as satisfied. We shoved off, said good bye to New Orleans and headed for the Algiers lock. It was another seven miles or so down to the canal and when we got there a line of at least three barges were waiting to lock through so we waited along side them. Our turn didn't come around until after 6 p.m. and I didn't want to get caught on the skinny canal in the dark with no place to sleep and since I wasn't sure about any boat ramps I asked the lock master if we could sleep up against the back side of the canal wall. He granted us permission, so we are enjoying one last unexpected night on the river.

This is what the shoreline looks like now

Ships

Downtown New Orleans

2nd to last photo on the Mississippi river (looking upstream)

Last photo (downstream)

Day 81, 26 Miles - MM 149 to MM 123

A great blue heron takes a raft ride

My future kevel

I can't remember when I first started admiring the barges gigantic cleats, which are called kevels, but it was early in the trip. There have been several barge workers who I have asked for an extra one. They laughed under their breath and couldn't believe why I'd want one. For over two months now I have been hoping to get a kevel and then, today, the next to last day of the trip, I struck gold. Kathy and I were minding our Ps and Qs and staying out of the way of all the Death Stars that travel these parts when some barge workers yelled for us to come over. We obliged them and visited for a while. Eventually I asked if they had any giant cleats hanging around that I could have. They chuckled in unison and one fellow said "They weigh several hundred pounds, it might sink your ship." Another man chimed in, "if I dropped it from here it'd pop that little blue balloon and send you for a sputtering ride." I chuckled with them but really I could have done with less comments and more kevels. A third fellow said that the next barge up was being cut into pieces to haul off to the scrap yard and if I made nice with the Mexicans they would probably cut one off for me. He offered to ask for me and within 15 minutes a couple of welders were making my dream come true. The Kevel fell with a thud onto the sand and after I cooled it down with some Mississippi water the two guys helped me lift it up onto the Big Getter. I couldn't believe how heavy it was and finally understood why all those guys had laughed at me. When we pushed the boat out into the water I realized that the kevel, which was on the front deck had raised the stern out of the water so far that the outboard's propellers were above water. Kathy and I painstakingly rolled it inside the cabin and the boat regained its sleek trim. I was finally kevel rich, although I have no idea what I am going to do with it.

Here it comes

A ship of Barges (there are 33 barges here and the largest tow I've seen had 56 barges)

It is still peaceful aboard the Big Getter

The real scale (I am still at least one hundred feet in front of the ship)

"67 here, 'bout to flip out"

So the industry and barge traffic has increased exponentially over the last two days and I now listen to the VHF radio religiously. Although I don't speak that often it is fun to listen to all the rough and rugged river jargon of the tug boat captains, not to mention the invaluable knowledge of what is happening around me. Sometimes however, I don't understand the colorful language and have to wait until after the fact to decipher the meaning. Here's an example. Kathy and I were startled one time as one of those huge ocean going ships honked. I automatically assumed I was doing something wrong but was unaware of what that could be. Immediately I turned up the volume on the radio and heard "67 here, 'bout to flip out." I never had heard anyone announce that the were about to go postal and thought that our society should be required to honk a horn before they went ballistic or became irate. It would be the civil way to be uncivilized. Soon however the ship, which was anchored, had pulled in its anchor and began to turn around, or 'flip out.' Another amusing comment I heard was, "Ah, by the time you get here, you'll have plenty of daylight, see ya on the two whistle." That translates to: you'll have plenty of room to pass me on the right. It has been a ball listening to and learning a little bit of river slang. I also heard "He's dragging his feet all the way to work" and "I got more space than asia." At one point in time I was listening into a conversation about me. One tug boat pilot was alerting another northbound barge that was around the bend that I was in the channel. He said "you got a little motorboat, raft, house, ..... it's hard to describe, you'll see it, blue pontoons, crazy looking little animal." I got a real grin out of that one.

Day 80, 43 Miles – MM 194 to MM 151

Im not sure what woke us up last night but Kathy is trying to convince me that it was an alligator. Maybe? All I know is that I shot awake feeling like our anchor had failed and we had drifted into shore. Our boat got rocked hard and a ferocious splash ensued. In five seconds flat I was out of bed and on the front deck looking for an explanation. Our anchor line was still taught and I couldn't discern where the splash had originated nor could I see any evidence of what had shaken us out of bed. I fell back asleep happy to still be anchored but curious. In the morning we saw that our neighbors were on a Corp boat named La Fourche that we had seen several times yesterday. There were two men mulling about so we went to say good morning. It was fortuitous that we ventured over because Pat gave us some unfortunate but vital information. The Industrial Canal that connects the Mississippi River to Lake Pontchartrain was closed. Over the last few days I had decided to change my take out from Venice to Lake Pontchartrain, but this was now out of the question. The rest of the day was tinged in somber shades and I racked my brain with alternative solutions on where to take out. The river was becoming more and more industrial and I was convinced that it would stay that way for the rest of the river. I was in a quandary but still enjoying the adventure. 

Corp of Engineer guys that were also sleeping at Bayou Goula

Ship and Dredge

Just a little scale (the tug is about 20 times bigger than the Getter)

Day 79, 41 Miles – Baton Rouge to Bayou Goula (MM 194)

Hurley's dredging arm and the upper Baton Rouge bridge

Beautiful Baton Rouge

Grain loader

I woke up in a fine mood and feeling much better than yesterday. Kathy and I launched before we even made coffee, determined to make some miles to what looked like one of the only safe anchorages in the next 50 miles. Shortly after we pulled the sand stakes we were floating by Hurley closer than 100 feet. We got out in the channel and I climbed up top to drop in the stern sweep while Kathy made a pot of coffee. For the next 14 miles I stood up top waving to truck drivers, yelling good morning to factory employees and dodging barge traffic; all the while sipping coffee and enjoying the industrial surrounding. It was a fine morning indeed. Soon after passing the lower bridge the mechanical banks thinned into the tree lined shore that we have known for the last 500 miles. Over the next 20 plus miles the river maintained it's natural beauty and sparsely populated banks. It was near on dark when we found a sand bar just a few miles upstream from our goal anchorage. We decided to gamble sand and land fall against anchoring in a side channel. After dinner we played an intense game of cards in the cabin, which offered some protection against the biting insects, and after the fierce but friendly competition we emerged for fresh air. "wowsers," I said as a massive sea ship passed by us north bound. Kathy and I both watched in awe as the behemoth sailed by. The ship was about on the same latitude with us when their wake came soaring up the beach. "Kathy, we are about to get hit hard," I yelled and we both maneuvered to the downstream side of the Big Getter. Our weight helped stabilize our vessel but the wake was so strong it rocked one of our stake loose. Neither one of us wanted to deal with that kind of motion all night long so we high tailed it to Bayou Goula, the safe haven that we had originally set out for. It was dark by the time we dropped anchor but went to sleep with out concern of 'waking' up.

Day 78, 30 Miles – MM 265 to Baton Rouge

It could be the beginning.

Big Getter, Justus, Cammie, Brice, Hurley

Hurley and it's slave boat

I awoke feeling a little lethargic and tad bit down. Couldn’t say what got into me, I think it is knowing that the trip is nearing the end. I also expected that this might be the last day of sandy beaches and infrequent barge traffic. By the looks of it on the map from Baton Rouge south is pretty heavily industrialized. The funk lasted nearly all day but by the time we reached Baton Rouge my spirits were back on track. The Dredge Hurley was anchored just down stream from where we tied up for the night and the sight of that behemoth with its arm sticking way out into the channel helped cheer me up even more. Cammie met us there and helped us re-supply for the last leg of the journey. It will take us 4 or 5 days to get down to New Orleans so we stocked up pretty well and then said good-bye to Cammie and Brice.