Day 58-60, Lay over in Memphis

If I were to live in Memphis the local yacht club is where I'd call home. As far as the amenities are concerned its nothing glamorous but the tenants are a breed to themselves. The dynamic seems to be working here and most every night there are afew people hanging out in the pavilion. We arrived on Sunday evening and William the engineer played a movie through a projector.Everyone gathered around to watch. Southern hospitality picked up whereMidwestern nice ended. Tara, who is as sexy as she is salty let us borrow her car even though we didn't have any errands to do. "Just turn theair conditioner on and drive," she said. She didn't have to twist our arms too hard so we sped off in her little red Chevrolet. Not having any goal in mind we just got lost in some back neighborhoods and then drove across the I-40 bridge so we could check out the river. Donny keeps giving us homegrown tomatoes at a rate that we can barely eat up. Another annual tenant and genuine man named John very graciously drove us to Graceland and to a grocery store with a side tour of some of Memphis' more regal estates thrown in. After a few nights in a row of wakes, mosquitoes, mud, barges and anchor problems it has been a reprieve being here. At first I had only planned to stay two nights but it's so comfortable and relaxing we are still here. Most of our days have been filled with site seeing. We visited the Peabody Hotel and saw their world famous Peabody Ducks. They are a group of five Mallards that enjoy the cool waters of the lobbies fountain during the day. At 5 pm. the duck master herds them out of the lobby, into the elevator and up to the roof top where they spend the night in the Duck Palace, which is actually just a cage. Mud Island' river walk and museum have been a highlite. There is a scale model of the Lower Mississippi with water twisting through the bends and sloughs. I met a lady upstream that had told me the model was a "total let down." Not so. Last night we joined several thousand people on Beale Street to gawk at the motorcycles and their rally bound drivers. It was a scene to behold. There were low riders and trikes, lit hand bars and enough chrome to cover the Empire State Building. Kathy and I walked aimlessly for a while before we found a roof top restaurant to enjoy the event.

Day 57, 40 Miles - MM 776 to Memphis

Tennessee Kudzu

Storm on the horizon

Don't tread on me

Kathy and I nearing Memphis

I-40 bridge in Memphis

Day 56, 30 Miles - MM 806 to MM 776

Another day in paradise. We have been lounging around all day with the seldom fisherman coming to say hello. The second water patrolman of the trip visited us. Ironically Kathy was there for the first one that stopped me 250 miles ago and wondered if I had kidnapped Kathy and her sister Karin. Around 5:pm Johnny, a man in a V-hull came by to visit and invited us over to the beach where he and his friends were spending the day. We said ok and ended up spending the night there. Most of the late afternoon was spent singing "G with an O, O with a D; T with an I, M with an E" in the water to avoid the biting black flies.

Johnny and friends

Peaceful Beach at MM 776

Day 55, 40 Miles - Caruthersville to MM 806

Kyle left this morning but before he left he signed the ceiling “The way life should be – Kyle Mc.” He couldn’t believe that there weren’t hundreds of other people out doing this same thing. Kathy and I drifted most all the day and beat the heat with our shade awning. We cooked a fine Costa Rican dinner of beans and rice and found a treeless beach to tie off to. I set two sand anchors and we watched the tows plow by in the evening hours. We were out of harms way but still close enough to the channel to catch all the wakes. During the night I would wake up occasionally to some serious pitching around. At one point dishes fell out of the kitchen box and woke us both up. We scurried around putting things back into their places and swatting at mosquitoes.

Day 54, 43 Miles - New Madrid to Caruthersville

Kyle - easy living

At Work

Teddy brought us all breakfast in the morning, bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy. Now that was a treat. Thanks Teddy for everything. We were in the south now. I made some comment about biscuits and gravy and he told us that we had passed the Mason-Dixon line only miles before New Madrid. Kathy and Kyle reveled in the blissfulness of life on the Mississippi. I believe I have converted a few more people into early retirement. The day was absolutely perfect, Caribbean temperatures with a touch of overcast and a pinch of breeze. We played games and kept congratulating each other on living life to the fullest. We reached Caruthersville and anchored near the Isle of Capri Casino boat. I walked up to ask security if we could tie off to them but ‘because of 911’ we could not. Jeremy, the head of security was super accommodating though, and gave us a goody bag and the opportunity to take a shower. We took him up on his offer and spent a little time at the slot machines. 

Day 53, 5 Miles - Lay over in New Madrid

It was the first night in four days that I hadn’t had trouble. I woke up happy and ready to deal with the motor situation. Randy had called his friend Clement, who had extended every kind of help possible. He came down to the boat ramp after making several phone calls to local mechanics. “It sounds like if the spring in your starter isn’t busted you should be out of here in no time,” he said. We pulled out the starter and opened it up. The starter cord recoiled all of a sudden and we realized that all that was wrong was a loose bolt; something that was easily fixed and required no mechanic at all. Man, was I glad to have that taken care of. It seems like a while since I was greeted with all the hospitality that has been so prevalent on the trip, but New Madrid was thick with fine characters, good stories, and a willingness to help. After Clement helped fix the engine and Dave had given me a set of Allen wrenches, a camera man from the local TV station came by and we spent about 2 hours bullshitting and conducting an interview. After John the cameraman left I was visited by several groups of locals. I befriended lawyers, detectives, goal plant employees, and contractors. It seems that everyone cruises around in glorified golf carts and after drinking a beer with Sam, Bobby D. and Frank at the boat ramp I hopped in Teddy’s golf cart for a tour of town. We checked out every street at mach 10, and somehow the handgun between the seats made me feel like not wearing a seatbelt was expectable and safe. Teddy was a fine man and excitable in that kind of puppy dog way. He seemed only to have an ‘on’ switch and we continued our tour of town until Kathy and Kyle, my two friends from Texas called to ask where I was because they were at the boat but I wasn’t.

Day 52, 56 Miles - Below Cairo to MM 894, near New Madrid

The beginning of hot

Three out of four pieces of my clothes

It got hot today, real sweaty hot. I wore a big brimmed hat and my underwear. It’s a hot look that I plan on importing into the New York fashion world. By Mid afternoon my shoulders where really starting to burn despite the layers of sunscreen they had on, so I tied two bandanas together and wore them around my neck. It was another fashion break through. My ensemble was Mississippi chic.

Sweat dripped of my nose, hair and down my back. I pulled on the oars hour after hour. It was a bit on the masochistic side to row in such heat but just sitting there only reminded me of how hot it was. At least this way I had an imaginary oasis around every bend that keep me motivated. My goal was to get to New Madrid where my next guests would meet me tomorrow afternoon. In the evening, sometime around 7:45 and still ten miles from my destination, I spotted a bobbing jug and figured I could snag a catfish for dinner so I started the motor but the motor went cling, cling, clingggg, clack. It started but I knew something was wrong. I killed it and contemplated what to do. Barge traffic was light and I was near the edge of the channel so I yanked on the started once more. The cord came out with ease but didn’t recoil; it just lay on the floor like a limp noodle. I immediately called Randy, the guy who had driven John, Kenny and Margo back to St. Louis, to let him know of my where-abouts, the situation and to see if he could help me out when I got to New Madrid. I assumed the worst and imagined at least a day of motor work before I would be back in action. The sun had completely faded by the time I dropped anchor. I got well out of the channel and knew I only had a few miles to go in the morning.

If you are my mom don't read this

I found a spot out of the channel about 3 miles downstream from the Ohio confluence to drop anchor. The current wasn’t too quick and would make for an easy departure in the morning. I fell asleep in the heat out on the front deck to enjoy what little breeze there was. I was on the same latitude with a green buoy, but a good 200 hundred feet outside of it. The Missouri side of the river was about a hundred feet away and after two mornings in a row of hell I was glad to have found such a fine spot. Around midnight a rumbling engine in the distance woke me up. I looked downstream and could make out a bright light. “It must be a train,” I thought to myself. Something didn’t feel right so I scrambled into the cabin and opened up the navigation charts. To my horror there was no train track near the river at this point. I rubbed my eyes, grabbed my glasses and realized that what I had seen was a 42 barge tow barreling down on me. It was way out of the channel and I knew that with two anchors out I didn’t have time to do much of anything except pray. The front barge passed me close enough to skip a rock into as I put on my life jacket. I scrambled up to the cabin in order to leap onto the barge as it smacked into me. The barges continued to pass by at a distance of no more than 50 feet away. That pilot must be asleep. He was definitely driving right over the top of the buoy. The tug finally passed by me and I imagined all the crew inside playing cards, oblivious to the life they nearly took. The wake shook my floating abode and things inside came crashing down. Before I picked anything up I reeled in the anchors in a dancing fashion to help combat the mosquitoes and got as close to the bank as I could in the dark. I dropped anchor and decided I would put the cabin back together in the morning’s light.

Day 51, 56 Miles - Cape to 3 Miles below Ohio River Confluence

Ohio River Confluence

Well, the muddy landing I made to prevent having to fight with the anchor proved not to be such a good idea. This morning after some coffee and a quick trip to a near by port-a-potty I untied the boat to realized I was stuck. The river dropped almost a foot and the front of the pontoons where well out of the water. I jumped off the boat to give it a push and sank thigh deep into the mud. The harder I pushed against the boat the deeper into the mud I sank. Well this sucks I thought to myself. I was half glad that no one was around to see me wallowing in the muck, but on the other hand some help would have been nice. Again I resorted to the motor but it just revved in place and boiled water up into the floor of the cabin. I tried reversing in one way and then the other, nothing happened, I was stuck like a voodoo doll. It was time to think outside the box but I wasn’t having any breakthrough ideas so I got down in the mud again but this time I got myself stuck too. Good thing the river wasn’t rising or I might have drowned. To pull my legs out I had to lay completely flat on my stomach. Now I was really glad there was no one watching or else I’d be on Youtube for sure. Nearby were some largish flat rocks that I used to make a platform in the mud and was finally able to inch the boat just a little. I thought the tiny movement was enough to have broken the seal of mud on the bottom of the pontoons so I washed myself off and climbed back to the motor again. First I reversed to the left and then to the right, and little by little my arc was increasing. Half an hour later I was free but feeling more than a little defeated. I wasn’t looking forward to tonight.

I made it to the Ohio River confluence, which designates the end of the Upper Mississippi and the beginning of the lower portion. It was a momentous occasion that I had been looking forward to for months before the trip even started. It was pretty much what I expected only wider and therefore not flowing quite as quickly as I had hoped. I made the effort to row over to where the two bodies of water met and their different colors swirled together. The way the Mississippi’s sediment hung and danced in the Ohio’s water reminded me of oil and dirty vinegar. The Confluence was a significant mile marker in the journey but the actual mile markers were totally anticlimactic. For almost two months now I have been watching the miles get closer to zero. I started at 856 and today I reached single digits, and then finally, Mile Marker 0. The next marker downstream however, read 951. I guess I still have a ways to go.

Day 50, 36 Miles - MM 89 to Cape Girardeau

When I dropped my anchor last night I though I might have to cut it loose this morning. The river was rushing between my pontoons and sounded like a gushing mountain stream. There must have been at least 6 miles of current and I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull my boat up to where the anchor lay. An anchor works not so much by weight but by digging power. To release a set anchor you must pull from directly above or upstream of where it lays. I huffed and pulled and cursed my way up the anchor line but couldn’t release it. For a good half hour I fought against the current. Every time I gained a few feet I would cleat it off so I didn’t lose any hard fought ground. Eventually I started my motor but had to be very careful not to tangle the line in my prop as I drove forward. To drive and pull the line in at the same time is most definitely a two-person job. I tried circling around and on the third time I felt the anchor line loosen. I knew I had either unburied the anchor, which is what I was hoping for, or broken the line and left my anchor at the bottom of the river. I killed the engine instantly started reeling in the anchor. It was easy to pull but still my hands throbbed after all the fighting that had been done. Eventually I got to the chain and new my anchor was still attached. Holy shit what a way to start the morning. I was ready for a nap.

The rest of the day went smooth and quickly. I was enjoying some of the quickest current so far. I wonder how fast she’ll be flowing downstream of the Ohio? It wasn’t even two o’clock when I reached Cape. After this mornings anchor debacle I wasn’t about to do that again so I drove the front of Big Getter right up onto the mud near the boat ramp. It was worth trekking through the mud to get on or off as long as didn’t have to drop anchor. The rest of the afternoon was spent sipping on fruit smoothies and bicycling around.

Day 49, 31 miles - St Genevive to MM 89

sweet sweeps

Starboard side of the cabin

Extra buoys and concrete weights

Hasta Manana

The end of the Upper Mississippi is quickly approaching and the tows have tripled in size. The average down here seems to be 6 across by 7 deep. The wake isn’t as huge as what I’ve been told, but it is definitely impressive. Margo and I have daydreamed about kayak surfing the waves that follow behind the tug and number in the twenties. Many of the waves seem to be 6 feet tall and probably 10 – 15 foot from trough to crest. We worked the sweeps again today and they really do work, slowly but noticeable. At the St. Genevive boat ramp this morning a fisherman told me of the ‘best restaurant around, which was only 12 miles down and happened to be where Margo, Kenny and John would get off. After a short hunt we found it and feasted on the buffet of catfish, salad and ribs. They saw me off and I continued for another 3 hours until I found an appropriate place to drop anchor. I am sitting under a mosquito net and listening to the passing barges as I write this.

Day 48, 37 Miles - Hoppies to St. Genevive

 

 

 

 

We didn’t get an early start but still left before Adam. Around lunchtime he caught up to us and hitched a ride for a short bit. We stayed in the channel except for when tows came by. The American Queen passed us going northbound and someone shouted down from the fifth deck “maybe you should get out of the channel.” Well, I guess between the wing dams and the big boats I’m damned either way. John, Margo and Kenny are all with me and by far the most motivated group I’ve had. Kenny won’t stop rowing and Margo and John take turns on the oars between swabbing the deck and sweeping. They really give working on the Big Getter a new meaning.

Hoppies

Margo and John enjoying the baby barn swallows overhead

Kenny and Myself on Hoppies dock

Adam's trusty kayak and tent in the background

Oh, what a night

Hoppies is another one of those places on the Mississippi that has a reputation that precedes it. At least a hundred miles upstream I was told not to pass up Hoppies. It is the closest dock facility downstream from St. Louis and about 60 miles down from the closest marina at Alton. Mr. Hoppie is the last living kerosene lamp lighter. Some sixty years ago the day markers were lit by hand every evening. Their family has been on the river for three generations and have stories that could reach to the moon and back. We met a solo kayaker named Adam who had seen me way back in Red Wing when I was waiting out tornados. It was a full moon night filled with guitars, good people and stories as big as the river.

Day 47, 22 Miles - St. Louis to Hoppies MM158

The only dock option in St. Louis - a beauty in her own right

A little dredging operation

Although I pulled in to this very same spot last night it wasn’t until morning broke that I realized what a strange place to dock it was. Big Getter is in a tiny space surrounded by welding tigs, cranes, railroad trestles and industry of all sorts. We slept here, the four of us (myself, Margo, Kenny and John Robinson), after a night out on the town and it is as surreal as ‘Apocalypse Now’. Our little boat is an oasis amidst a metallic, whirling planet; foreshadowing the river to come. The next ten miles, after we said our goodbyes to St. Louis, were choked with towboats, dredging operations and commerce abound. Our little craft felt even littler all of a sudden. I haven’t yet reached the Lower Mississippi but consider this to be the beginning.

Day 46, 27 Miles - Alton to St. Louis

Missouri / Mississppi Confluence

Chain of Rocks Canal entrance

In the canal

Good bye locks

St. Louis approach

I can't believe how fast this trip is going. A few days ago I passed the halfway benchmark, in time that is but not in miles. Today, another sadder event occurred, I passed through lock 27. It is the last lock on the Mississippi. "Locking through" has been such an integral part of river life I already miss it. Shortly after I passed the Missouri confluence the Corp of Engineers reroutes all boats onto a canal system that bypasses the Chain of Rocks rapids. It is a 12 Mile long canal about 300 feet in width and is made to barely accommodate a north and south bound barge. I dodged several tows by the time I reached the end of the canal which is where lock 27 is. It was a little anticlimactic and nostalgic at the same time. There was a short wait to get through the lock and I thanked the Corp of Engineers for a sweet southbound passage. The lock master came back on the radio and wished me a safe passage. I felt like bowing to him, but thought it might be a little conceded. The canal soon ended and the St. Louis sky line was large on the southern sky. The arch struck a pose which made me anxious to get down river. Just a few miles down stream I was front row and center for all the folks up in the arch. I was steering with the rear sweep and maneuvering in behind the Robert E. Lee to dock when I spied Margo and Beau Kenny. They were waiting for me and waving ecstatically. I returned the hello and settled into the new dock.

Day 45, Lay over in alton

The crane and open dame gate

Main lock at Melvin Price - 1200 feet long

Looking towards St. Louis from the old Chain of Rocks bridge

Up in the Arch, looking down on what tomorrow holds

The little capsules that take you to the top remind me of the escape pods in Spaceballs the Movie

The Melvin Price lock tour came highly recommended, so I took advantage of the opportunity. Also known as lock 26, it is only a few miles downstream from the Alton marina. It was an interesting tour and personal for me. I had several questions answered that had been bothering me. Even though the dam gates have been open on many of the dams they still operate the locks and drop you about a foot. I've been curious why there is any elevation change at all if the dam isn't holding any water back. The answer, I learned, is that the sheer mass of the dam pillars is enough to create a constricted river bed and therefore creating a mini step of elevation loss. My bicycle came in mighty handy and I continued to ride the 28 miles into St. Louis after the tour ended. There are great bike paths here and although they are still covered in flood mud in spots it was fairly easy riding. I crossed the river on the old Highway 66 Chain of Rocks bridge. It was nostalgic to me even though I had never been there before. I imagined old-timey cars and city goers heading to town for the weekend. I got to spend the afternoon in St. Louis, which I have only heard good things about and tried to do as much as possible. My time was limited but I will return tomorrow to check out the City Museum and the now Belgium-owned Budweiser brewery.

Day 44, 17 Miles - MM 220 to Alton

Trash removal barge

The tug and living quarters of the clean up crew

Alton Marina

Day two for the additional shade tarp

Karin agreed to Pick Kathy up in Alton so I was blessed with great company for one more day. We didn't have far to float but covered the 17 mile distance in 3 1/2 hours. The river is just hauling down here. Early in the morning we passed the Living Lands and Waters clean up barge. The tug boat captain I met back in Keokuk the night of the shad fly invasion. I was hoping that Kathy and I could go aboard but Mike wasn't there and the man we spoke to was yelling through a window and presumably still in bed. It is quite a rig though. I am hoping to do some volunteering with them in the future.