Bust the Bronco and Gerns

This past few weeks on the Illinois, Mississippi, Ohio, Cumberland and now Tennessee Rivers has been an unexpected break from the unrelenting euphoria of the Loop. I learned 30 years ago on our honeymoon that the uncomfortable experiences curiously produce endearing memories. These Rivers were stressful. But I loved it.

In addition to the snags, channel-wide barges and shallow anchorages, mentioned in earlier blogs, I can report a new layer of challenge...debilitating heat. As we progressed down the rivers, an extended stretch of 90 + heat added a new layer of discomfort. This converged unfortunately with a dirth of marinas and broad anchorages. Marinas have electricity to fire up the AC. In a broad anchorages, you might catch a breeze. Sadly, all that we available were breathless ditches or narrow backwaters. The anchorages were terrible, hot, buggy and an exercise in fortitute. One "anchorage" was named Little Diversion Creek. This channel was nothing more that a narrow tree lined runoff ditch. We left there to anchor the next evening squeezed between some concrete pilings and the tree lined shore. The trees squelch any breezes. Humid, breathless heat kills all motivation. In fact the sole objective is to do nothing so as to generate no added heat.

The daytime transits afforded little respite. Along the 310 miles of the Mississippi River were recurring encounters with massive barges on winding rivers...some as big as five barges wide and 6 long. It was a truly awesome sight but a reminder as well why our little 42 foot boat is at the very bottom of the pecking order and no match were we to fail to yield.

Then, there are these nasty structures called wing dams. The entire length of these rivers and Mississippi in particular is highly engineered to keep shoals from forming in the main channel. The Mississippi is littered with US Army Corp of Engineer structures called wing dams. They are a chevron of vertical walls along the river between the edge of the channel and the shore and, ARE BARELY SUBMERGED. They serve as reminders to "Don't you dare drop your guard and venture outside the channel or you will have a very bad day!" This is stressful.

I mentioned the logs and snags on the Illinois in an earlier blog. The size and frequency of these jumped an order of magnitude once we hit the Mississippi. It's humbling to pass branches, logs and entire trees. We interfaced with a few smaller one. They get your attentions as they bonk their way along the hull. One got mixed up with our prop but somehow we came through it unscathed....or so we hope.

Low to the water and way back from the bow, it's hard to spot these suckers in a sailboat. So to obviate other direct encounters, I took on the new job of log spotter. Not a juicy assignment. This required that I stand watch on the bow in the heat and sun for hours on end directing John away from these floating land mines.

Standing for hours can be tiring on the back and legs but passing barges afforded some relief. I mentioned in an earlier blog the immense sideways force of the prop wash from a tow (I know it's an odd name since they mostly push). But on the Mississippi, the tows pushing the massive barges generate some enormous standing waves. They are huge and deep and have a very short period. Furthermore, deep waves persist for quite some distance. After a couple failed attempts to remain standing through these, I rigged up a sort of rein attached to the stansions (railing) on the bow. This provided me with the stability I needed to stay upright at my post. But as we ounced along the waves, I looked more like a cowboy riding a bull as I bent my knees riding up and down. It could not suppress the urge to wave my arm around my head and slap my butt. John and I got a good laugh out of this. I wondered what the tow captains thought if they bothered to look behind.

One more matter must be mentioned. No where to date along our waterborne travels, have we encountered the bubbling, churning cauldron we passed through but on the Mississippi. I can only guess at the causes, but along one windy segment of the river, we had to transit a massive field of upwelling water contiguous to huge stretches of whirlpools (small maelstrums). The boat skidded and twisted. You could not miss it. John and I just looked at each other in awe at this mighty display of nature and physics. Not only was this a unique experience for us but I now know, thanks to my brother Brian Sibold, Capt USN retired, this hydraulic phenomenon has a name--gerns.

We exited to port from the Mississippi at the Ohio River and observed a reduction in flotsam and jetsum and a change in river color, from muddy to green. One more hot night out, through the Olmstead lock and on to the oasis of Paducah, KT (a marina, electricity! More on that later.) From there we linked up with the Cumberland River and onto the Tennessee River where we now find ourselves. So our travels continue...