Sounds like a plan!

It was another ground hog's day of travel, only with fewer barges to pass. There was a ferry crossing, something we haven't run across in a while. And it included the (apparently) required two hour hold at the lock added to the planned seven hour day. At least it was the last lock we will run across on this trip. There are none on the planned route for tomorrow.

The day started out at 5:30am with the Harvest Moon

We are also on the last planned anchorage for this trip. Somewhere along the Illinois river between its East bank and a chunk of land called Willow Island is where the hook hit the bottom. It is kind of a desolate looking place that is very, very quiet and very still. Generally those are two good qualities for an anchorage but it is also very hot and muggy. I suspect mosquitoes will be our main companions for the evening. It is kind of a narrow channel as well so, in other places this tight swinging would be a concern. But there is just enough river current running though the channel to keep the boat pointed in one direction. All in all not bad for the (planned) last night of the trip. Why the parentheses? If there is one thing we have learned since putting First Light in the water at Duck Creek Marina on November 3^rd 2022, it is that what is planned to happen and what does happen can be two, very different, events.

Six hundred and eighty five days ago I didn't have a pacemaker stitched into my chest. Deb didn't have a plate and screws holding her wrist together. We had not spent months traveling with Grandson Eldest. First Light didn't have near as many new parts as she does now. The boat had not been dropped in the Big Chute Railway, nor had we come near to being run down by a couple of barges. None of those events, as notable as they are now, were in any of our plans.

The planned events, Delaware Bay, New York, the Hudson River, Canadian Waters, Great Lake Waters, and rivers this far from an ocean, were rarely, if ever, what we expected them to be. Some were far more spectacular and fun than we suspected. Others were far more difficult and uncomfortable than we expected. That is usually the way it works when one goes a-wandering.

Tomorrow's (planned) last day of travel to our new home marina of Alton, IL is just shy of 40 miles and a bit over 5 hours. So, somewhere around noon to early afternoon, this little foray into being river sailors on “Motor Vessel First Light” should draw to a close. I am guessing it will take a few days to get relocated back to the apartment in St. Louis, with grandkids (6) once again nearby. Pretty much everything we own has to be packed up from its rightful boat place. Then loaded up, hauled over the bridge, unpacked, and put back in its rightful apartment place. I am guessing it will take more than a few days to get used to being land dwellers again. True, we have only been gone for 5 months or so rather than the near six years we were on Kintala. But I still expect to wake up at night a few times, concerned that the boat wasn't moving and wondering if we had run aground somehow. Or have the thunder wake me into scrambling to get the hatches and ports shut before the rain arrives. Good habits on a boat that make one feel silly on land.

Our Looper friend Doug and his trusty sidekick Sailor on Galactica, a McGregor 26

But, for tonight and in this place, I will simply enjoy being on a boat that is riding gently to its anchor. No shore lights, no traffic noise, just sky, trees, and water. The good news is, even after getting settled in to land living again, First Light will be near at hand and ready to go out for a day, a weekend, a few days...whatever we can work out and whenever we feel like doing it. We might take a couple of days and motor right on back up here for a visit, hopefully with a few grandkids aboard. Sounds like a good plan to me.

The LaGrange Lock and Dam

After 2 hours we finally get our turn!

The State of IL must have a ton of this ugly green bridge paint laying around. There were so

many bridges painted with it and it's really hideous in bright sunshine.

A good stop for an old wrench bender

This was a short day, just about 29 miles and four hours worth of river travel. Though short, it did have a lesson to teach. We were cruising through a place where it looked like some dredging was going on. There was a small tug pushing a shallow draft barge toward us with a lot of room off to his port side. I didn't see any reason to call him as it was clear what we were going to do, and he didn't call me. All of a sudden a man ran out to the front of the oncoming barge and started waiving his arms. Deb called out “STOP, STOP”. I haven't had to panic stop the boat from cruise speed, but it is something I regularly review. Power back to idle, shifters into neutral, wait a moment, shifters into reverse, wait a moment, power as required. Each step taken deliberately and as smoothly as possible. The result from doing it for real? From near eight knots to full stop in barely a boat length.

Deb called the tug. The captain told us to drive on by without saying another word. No clue as to what all the hand waiving was about but, we think, the man waiving his arms just wanted us to slow down. We have been passing tugs for days now, slowing down was never an issue. Still, had I thought about it for a minute, the freeboard on the dredge barge was really low. There is a good bet at least some of our wake would have washed over the deck. I should have slowed down. Of course, the tug could have called and asked for a slow pass as well. I am getting the impression that a lot of tug drivers have a low opinion of pleasure boats. Not an uncommon thing in any working world. A lot of airline pilots think the same of private pilots daring to fly in and out of major airports.

The view pretty much all day.

The rest of the trip was a “Ground Hog's Day” kind of travel. (Think the Murray/MacDowell movie.) Pretty much the same thing mile after mile. It was remote, twisty, with few indications that humans were around (other than the two on the boat going by) and not the least bit unpleasant. We saw flocks of King Pelicans, eagles, and egrets making their way to wherever it is they make their way to. There were families of deer walking the shoreline. I think it was the furthest we have gone along a river without seeing a single bridge.  Apparently there is no one on one side of the river interested in anything going on on the other side of the river. Humankind could use a bit more of that attitude.

This leg ended with First Light tied up to a working barge holding two cranes in an active tug station. For this old mechanic, it is the coolest place we have stopped. Friends are tied up to a tug just off our bow. Inbound friends will tie up pretty much anywhere there are cleats. (Really, really big cleats!) One of the tugs just left the station off to some kind of job. How fun is that? The gentleman who runs the yard and lets the transients stay for a night and I are cut from very similar cloth. (Though I wouldn't be surprised to find out we are at opposite ends of the political spectrum.)  After tying up the last of the group to arrive, I asked the Yard Master how much he would charge to let me see the wheel house of a tug. He gave four of us a complete guided tour of one tug, PINTAIL, engine room to bridge, no charge, and full of interesting information and stories. On this trip we have visited museums of all kinds, watched an airshow of antique airplanes, taken a train ride into a canyon...but that tour of the tug was one of the coolest things we have done in all the months we have been traveling on First Light. I can't say I would trade my life in the sky for a life on the river, but it would be a close call.

Nick at Logsdon Tug Service

Anyway, we are going to take the afternoon to just relax, explore a little, and get off the boat for a while. Tomorrow is a very long day. And the day after that?

Home.

What an engine room! These are Cummins engines, just a tiny bit bigger than the ones on First Light.

Some seriously big wrenches for this engine room.

Lovin' this cockpit...

Coast Guard barge for setting marks.

Now THAT'S a cleat!

Library of Congress photo of the 1922 flood in Beardstown depicted in the mural above.

Some interesting history on this courtroom

Where we are and home are now on the same map page. Woo hoo!

Multiple flocks of King Pelicans flew over us throughout the day.

There's lots of abandoned farm buildings on this river.

Close, way (way) to close

We woke up pretty early this morning. First Light was the first boat in a line of boats tied up bow to stern along the wall. Since we were up and moving, we decided to just keep on moving until we were underway. The departure prep went smooth and a bit before 0700 we were back on the river.

The first plan was a four hour day to end on a dock owned by a restaurant. One can stay the night in exchange for having dinner there. Deb had talked to them several times yesterday and we knew that there was little space. So she called again today15 minutes before they were officially open to grab a spot. But two of our companion boats for the last couple of days called even earlier. They were bigger boats so...no space at the inn, literally.

The next plan was to stay on the town's free dock. It had some pretty poor reviews including having uninvited people board the boats in the dark hours of the night. Once upon a time, I might have just shrugged and said, “fine, fish need fed.” But those days are long gone. Other reviews were not near as harsh. But when we motored by, the place looked like a ghetto dock. Pass.

The plan after that plan was to just continue on and add tomorrow's route to today's. It would make for a pretty long day but would knock off two travel days in one go. And it would end up at what was reported as a nice anchorage with easy access and lots of room for boats. A hitch in that plan was a lock that had been a part of tomorrow's plan now being in today's plan. There was no telling how long it would take to clear it, time that would be added to a now 10 hour day.

It turned out to be a bit more than two hours. We waited it out anchored next to a new “buddy boat” we had picked up just as they cleared the marina entrance where they had spent the night. It looked like they were going to be faster than us. We radioed them ship to ship to let them know we were slowing down to let them slide into the channel ahead of us and take the lead. It turned out they were hading for the same anchorage we were. But the already long day was stretched a bit more by the lock delay.

Today's buddy boat, MV Knot Golfing, a Prestige F500 beautiful boat

After clearing the lock, we headed off down the Illinois River, our new traveling companions pulling a slight lead as we went along. It went that way for several hours as we twisted our way down the sometimes narrow channel. The river itself was seriously wide in some spots, not so much in others. And it is much prettier and way more remote than I would have guessed.

As we neared the end of the trip, literally just two bends away from entering the anchorage, and in a narrower part of the river, a barge called our traveling companion and asked if he would hold outside of the rather tight bend that lay between us and the anchorage. Both crews were really ready to be done for the day, but pleasure boats that tangle with tows always come out on the bottom (no pun intended). 

There was some discussion as to where would be the best place to hold, with one idea being to hold position just outside of the channel marker for the barge to pass. I wasn't a fan of that option as just outside the channel marker could be pretty shallow water. Instead, I moved back in the direction from which we had come to let the barge make the corner and get on a straight bit. Our friends did the same and, with our buddy boat now to our stern, the two of us just passed the tow inside the channel. Easy. 

After we passed the tow, I started into the turn, my line of sight now free of the tow and the tree-lined shore. Much to my surprise, a second tow was already in the bend and heading straight for us. This thing was so wide that two tugs were doing the pushing, completely filling the channel. My first impulse was to stop, turn around, and outrun them to the straight part were we could negotiate a reasonable pass. Alas, our traveling companion and the tow were too close to make that a safe option.

Deb suggested I just stop. We were already outside of the red and the tow was nearly on us. I disagreed with enthusiasm for several reasons. The first being we were very close to the marker, as in just a few feet off the starboard bow. Second, First Light is not a particularly easy boat to hold still in one place. Third, the tow, while not making much of a bow wake, was churning up a monster wheel wake with two tugs trying to twist the raft of barges around the corner. And fourth, I was already in 5 feet of water in a boat that draws four and a half. But by then it was too late to do anything but try to do what Deb had suggested. I was not at all sure I could pull it off, but there was no choice then but to try and make it happen. So I tried, and it worked. (Always listen to the smart person on the boat.) 

It was close though. Way, way too close. I aimed First Light at the moving target of the starboard aft corner of the barge closest to us, leading it to get as close as I could and back into the channel at the earliest possible moment. As we cleared the massive island of moving steel, I brought the power up to our normal 8 knot cruising setting and plowed into the wheel wake, still not at all sure I could keep the boat off the shallows. Deb kept reading off the depth as I wrestled with the thrust levers and helm and, just like that, all was well.

The first tow Captain had been professional enough to call and make arrangements for a safe passage. But he never let us know that there was a bigger, meaner tow right behind him. Whoever the Captain was on that tow never called, and never answered our radio calls to try and come up with a plan. I have to say that my generally high opinion of professional river mariners took a bit of a nose dive. He near to ran us down without making a sound. And when I say “near” I'm talking feet, not yards, not boat lengths, feet. Our buddy boat was back far enough to get a little warning, but pretty much had to do the same thing to miss getting chewed up. It was not pretty.

Just a few hundred yards after the near miss lay the anchorage entrance. We are hooked, secured, and really, really tired. I'm guessing it took a while for my heart rate to return to normal. So close to the end of the trip and yet another close call. 

But at least we squeezed two day's travel into one. Tomorrow we will start with the plan that was was the day after tomorrow's plan...I think.

MV Pipe Dream. We met these folks at the very beginning of our trip in Chesapeake City, MD

A Defever 47, one of our "lottery boats"

We watched as an Asian Carp jumped out of the water and landed in the piles of sand on 

this barge. He was unsuccessful at returning to the water. They jumped all over the place

in our wake almost the entire day, just like the dolphins do.

A tug maintenance facility

Couldn't figure out how in the world they got this tug up there.

King Pelicans! If you can't have dolphins greet you, then the pelicans work just fine. They

use the Mississippi Flyway to migrate to the south for the winter and we used to see them

at Carlyle Lake this time of year.

Bad picture but it was just too far away for my iPhone camera

New with illusions of old

The only lock for today was about an hour and a half away from the marina. An 0630 call to the lockmaster gave good news. If we got a move on, the lock would be ready for us when we arrived. So four of the five boats from yesterday pulled in lines, fired up engines, and got a move on. The fifth boat from yesterday was going to spend and extra day at Heritage. I silently  bid them  fair winds and following seas as they are good folk. Though that was kind of silly seeing we that we are all in a river with boats that have motors.

The river today was a totally different river from yesterday's industry-laden waterway. We passed a few places where barges were beached and a tug terminal or two. But for the most part it was 40 miles of water, trees, a few dear, some eagles, and a whole lot of not much else. It was also really wide, though staying in the channel was still necessary. Just because it is wide from side to side doesn't mean it is deep from side to side. There were many a place where the birds were standing bird ankle deep in water while a long way from shore...and not all that far from the boat.

The water levels are very low this year as evidenced by the exposed tree roots.

At the end of the day, we tied up to a wall at Henry Harbor Marina, a wall that is actually an old decommissioned lock. The old lock was the first lock ever built on the Illinois River and was constructed in 1870 for a total cost of $400,000.  What is left of the lock is a rock wall with bent hoops of rebar cemented into the top of the wall to use as cleats. Every fender we own is hung between us and that wall. Care is required when walking as much of the top of the wall is covered with loose rock and shale. It is a twisted ankle waiting to happen. But there is power and water and the owner/operators, Fran and David, are the best kind of helpful.

I did have a weird thing happen while I was closing up the flybridge. I glanced up over the bow and was a bit surprised and being absolutely sure I had been in this place before. It was a classic case of Deja Vu. It doesn't happen often, but it is also something I have experienced from time to time. Those who know me well know there isn't an ounce of wooist in me anywhere. I loves me some mythology, but that is about as far as my “other worldly” interests go. There is zero chance I have ever been in this place before, and a less than zero chance that I looked at it from the flybridge of a 42' trawler named “First Light.”  So I got me a good chuckle along with the reminder that the human brain is really, really good at fooling itself. Something I think we should all remind ourselves from time to time. It just might make our collective passing this way a bit more tolerable. 

So here we are, safe and secure at a truly unique “marina” and sharing space with a couple of crews we have been traveling with for several days now. Which is still a new experience for us.

Leaving Heritage Harbor in Ottawa, IL

The Starved Rock Lock. MV Finito and MV Lily Pad

MV Finito. A truly spectacular Flemming 55

MV Sparkling Star, a Sea Ray 390

No more pretty blue water...

The view from the wall at Henry Harbor