Down the Illinois

            Our stop in Ottawa left us a little short of what had been our goal for the day. Instead of getting 40 to 60 miles behind us, we only went 13. Soooo. After spending such a pleasant interlude in Ottawa, we pulled into a marina in the middle of nowhere in a plce called Henry, Illinois. The harbor was advertised as having a depth of six to eight feet. We were last in the line of four boats: Li’l David, Voyager II, Glory Be II, and Gilraker in the rear. Li’l David was assigned a place on the wall that blocked off wayward currents and things from the river.

As we slowly made our way into the entrance channel behind Voyager II, we saw mud churning up in front of us. Les came on the radio and told us to watch for mud. Our draft is about 3.5 feet. (A rough estimate since every time we load something else on it changes. Gary has had the waterline repainted twice already.) Voyager II is a bit longer and does not have as shallow a draft. They settled in the mud for a few minutes, undocked and hauled out for the wall, where Les had to clean mud out of the air conditioner filter. Fortunately we had just enough water under us to allow us to enter the slip and stay there for the night with no ill effect. This part of the river is so low that the only traffic to speak of was speed boats and barge tows. The marina helper told us that the water had gone down two feet in just a couple of days and that’s why the slips were so shallow.

            There was an excellent restaurant which always helps soothe our ruffled feathers. The ribs were outstanding and we had the restaurant almost to ourselves. A couple from Iowa, Dan and Pat, joined us for dinner. They were almost home. The restaurant was the only amenity at the place and our laundry was beginning to pile up, but the only washing here was done by hand. Next day we moved on and cruised for almost 60 miles. After a rather tiring trip we saw the boater’s dream atop a high bluff to starboard: Dockside Restaurant!

            We poked Gilraker’s nose around the end of a barge that looked like it was about to sink and eased by a hulk of a sidewheeler that we later learned had come up from New Orleans after Katrina. At least the water in this marina was no less than 12 feet deep and we breathed a sigh as we pulled in. After our three companion boats were all docked the captains hiked up the dock to check in. There was no place to check in. They had called the marina on the phone and the dockmaster said to just pick a slip, dock and he’d see us later. Turns out he was out on a tug at the time.

            The restaurant turned out to be a hoax. Some of the resident boaters said they didn’t know how long it had been closed. So we went to plan B. I had some smoked sausage in the freezer and Barb and Marty contributed some kielbasa to go with it—plus some bell peppers from the plant on their boat. I put it all together with some rice and canned tomatoes for our main dish. Judy and Les brought steamed cauliflower and carrots, Lois added a salad and topped everything off with a peach cobbler made from her special recipe. We had just sat down to eat when Ed and Linda showed up. Ed is a fellow who was doing the Loop with a friend last year when their boat broke down at Holden Beach. Of course, Lorenzo came to their rescue and was not forgotten. Ed and Linda live in the area near the marina we were in and brought some of the local corn and a watermelon. We hauled out two more chairs and had ten for dinner. Next day as we cruised down the river Gary said, “There’s Ed.” Sure enough, he was standing on a boat ramp waving as our boats went by. You might be able to make him out in the picture I’ve included.

            We almost had eleven as the dockmaster showed up during dessert and told us he was knocking off fifty cents per foot since we were all in one place and he didn’t have to tour the marina collecting fees. He also gave us some tips about water depths and where to anchor when we couldn’t get into a marina—which was true of most of the ones in that area of the river. Many are just not useable by boats the size of ours and our friends’.

            We made a fairly long run the next day (Friday, August 29) of nearly 60 miles and anchored in a septic tank (no, I’m kidding, the water only looks like a septic tank). The water was green and full of green/chartreuse foam and blobs of questionable-looking stuff floating by in the sluggish current. Gary said it couldn’t be sewage because it didn’t smell bad, but I surely didn’t want to get any on or around me.

            We’d planned to anchor, but the anchor winch wouldn’t work. Anchor winch motors have been a bad investment for us. We’ve already had to replace one and will probably have to replace this one. Fortunately, there is a spare available. Lorenzo to the rescue again! We rafted next to Li’l David and shared their generator long enough to run the A/C and cool down until the evening breeze came up. Thanks again, Captain Johnson and Lois!

            The captains put their collective heads together and decided we’d scoot on down to the Mighty Mississip’ on our next run. And run we did. We pulled out of the swamp, septic tank or whatever it was at six a.m. We covered 117 miles to Grafton, Illinois, in a twelve-hour run. We were surprised that there was a fair amount of barge traffic on a Saturday but we had no problems since we only had one lock, our last on the Illinois, at LaGrange. We locked through fairly early in the day. So early, in fact, that there was still a heavy coating of dew on the cabin overhead and I got to wear my fetching yellow rain pants to handle lines. I know the lock guys must think they’re having hallucinations of the 500-pound canary when I come up chirping, “Good morning, how are you today?”

            Yep, we had a long, long day on the short, short boat. There were holiday boaters everywhere on the river. Skiers and Ski-Doos zipping around, and when we did see a tow, it was usually one with 15 big barges loaded with coal, grain or whatever. The main risk occurs when we meet one coming around a corner, but we give them plenty of room, ask which side to pass on, and so far have had no problems.

            We arrived at Grafton Harbor Marina almost exactly twelve hours after we left the septic tank. They have a beautiful new marina here and a little village strung out along one road that runs along the bluff rising up from the river. The place was humming and jumping with bands playing in several places around about and  people milling around all over the docks. We had several visitors before we even got the lines out and the power turned on.

            We’ve had hot weather in Grafton in the daytime, but cooling breezes at night. We girls used the marina truck to make a Wal-Mart run since we will be going through some wilderness areas on the Mississippi before getting into civilization again. Gary sat on the back deck watching the crazies come in for fuel and deciding that maybe it would be best not to leave Labor Day morning after all. We have decided to stay and leave Tuesday morning when the waters are likely to be a little less crowded. Mary Anne e-mailed me that they had to wait 45 minutes at one lock while they loaded up with 14 pleasure craft. We’re happy we weren’t there to be a part of it. Our next locks will be on the Mississippi. Rural Illinois is beautiful, and once again we’ve met some really nice people everywhere we’ve been, but we’ll be glad to get on down through the Mississippi, the Ohio, the Cumberland, and into the Tenn-Tom.

            It being Sunday I was thinking again. Especially about the yucky water we were in a couple of nights ago. The Bible tells us to renew our minds with the washing of water of the Word of God. We can get in a really stagnate state if we’re not careful. There’s a lot of filth floating around in our lives and it takes clean water to get rid of it. Psalm 119 tells us that God’s Word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path. It’s funny how quickly the nasty stuff can overcome the clean, and how hard it is to get rid of the slime and grime once we let it get a foothold. It’s so much better not to get into the slime and grime in the first place. Just like hosing the boat off before it gets too dirty is better than waiting until the spiders have pooped everywhere and the brush and Clorox have to be applied with a lot more elbow grease, so it’s better not to let our minds dwell on the sordid things around us and to have a daily “wash” with the Word. Hope everyone has had a safe and happy Labor Day holiday.

Tuesday we pulled out of Grafton and headed on down the Illinois a short way and then, before we even realized it, we were in the Mississippi. Yep. It’s the Big Muddy. But for someone who’d only crossed it via a bridge over forty years ago, it was a thrill to be in it. I think the Mississippi has a special place in the history of this country. As we chugged by the arch at St. Louis I thought of how many people came through here so many years ago and realized their American dream. And here we go. Realizing ours!

The barge traffic had picked up after easing off for the holiday.  I can only imagine what Mark Twain’s reaction would be were he here to see it. I am including some pictures, but they don’t convey how huge these things are. To see a tug pushing a line of these things three across with five in a line and managing to control them makes you thankful you have all the latest electronics. The barges heading downstream have right-of-way over those going upstream, since going against the current gives them more control.  We passed through our only two locks on the Mississippi on Tuesday. These were different from all the others we’ve locked through. You have to drop a loop around a bollard that is on a float that rises and falls with the water level. It isn’t hard to do and means we only have to have one line securing the boat, so now I have another skill to add to my resume.

We spent Tuesday night at a place called Hoppie’s, somewhere on the Mississippi River. Hoppie’s appears to be in the middle of nowhere, although we were told there’s a village there. We were on the Missouri side of the river, tied up to a derelict barge that’s used as a dock. We can certainly say we’ve stayed in some really nice places and some that are not high-end. But Hoppie’s had power and water and after cruising all day finding that a hot shower is available is the equivalent of finding a four-star spa. On top of that Lois had taken chicken out of the freezer and had to use it or lose it. We were happy to help out with broccoli slaw and Barb and Marty donated some freshly sliced tomatoes from the plant on Glory Be. We were thrilled to find that Lois had some blueberries she needed to use and had made a cobbler too.

Hoppie’s main claim to fame is that Fern, the proprietress, knows everything that’s going on on the river and where the water is too low to get into anchorages and just about everything else. She filled in the captains and the three of them sat down with charts in the evening and picked out an anchorage with a couple of backups in case of emergency. Early Wednesday morning we pulled out and headed down the Mighty Mississip. We passed through a lot of rural scenery with an occasional cement plant, quarry, or power plant. Just south of Cape Girardeau we pulled into a creepy creek with unidentified floating objects and anchored. We’ll probably have to anchor one more night before getting into a marina again.