I was up at 6 eager to begin my journey in earnest.  I decided to take advantage of the hot shower at the marina since I didn't know when I would get my next one.  Then I spent some time re-stowing stuff below.  I put the tiller on with its cotter pin, put the mainsail on with its battens.

The mainsail halyard that runs through the very top of the mast was tangled and then jammed.  Jammed at the very top!  I spent 20 minutes or more untangling and then un-jamming the halyard.  If that halyard didn't work, then I would not be able to do ANY sailing on this trip.  I began trying to figure out how I would get the mast down in order to free the halyard.  But I jerked and pulled with all my strength and had almost given up when with one more mighty pull I managed to get it free.

And I noticed with regret that my boat DOES leak, but just barely.  The overnight accumulation was less than 1/2 inch and was quickly dispatched with a couple of swipes of my big sponge.  I resolved to find a time to find the source of the leak, but not this morning.  It was time to GO!

When I pushed off from the dock in Pond Run, I found myself drifting outside the aluminum channel markers, but I assumed the creek was at least two feet deep - the depth of my tiller below the boat.  But I was wrong.  I quickly ran aground.  So I unshipped the tiller, pushed toward the channel and put the tiller back on.  But I immediately ran aground again.  This time I took the tiller off and left it off until I was well clear of the shallow water.

I left Pond Run at 8:30 under power although the wind was blowing very pleasantly.  I was tempted to try sailing the $50 boat for the first time, but I only had a few miles to the Greenup Dam, and I didn't want to have to take sails down again.

At mile 336, the city of Greenup appeared around the bend.  Of the many landmarks in the town including rooftops and church steeples, the McDonalds' arches stood out the most prominently.  It was the same familiarity one feels when driving down the freeway and spotting the golden arches in the distance.  But I passed on the opportunity to stop in for breakfast.

The forecast calls for lower 70s, partly cloudy and Northwest winds 5 to 10 miles per hour.  Of course, I was headed Northwest.  The wind always blows in your face.  It was still just a little cool with the gentle wind blowing.  I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.  It would be the last day of the trip that I would dress in shorts.  The rest of the time I fought cold weather.

The boat was much easier to steer with the big tiller hanging down behind.  On that first day I had steered with only the motor and I had a tendency to over-correct making me zigzag down the river.  My only concern with both tiller and motor running was that I might swing the tiller hard to starboard bringing it into the churning propeller.  I tied a small line to the motor to make sure it did not swing close to the tiller.

With the relatively clam waters, the sails down, and the motor purring, I sat back, wrote in my journal, and steered occasionally with my elbow.

At 9:10, I heard a bang and the motor raced.  I had just sheared a pin on a log in the river.  I had to get the motor in the boat and repair the pin.  I thought to myself, "This is just like traveling on the Big Sandy when I sheared so many pins.  At least there are no barges in sight!  To work!"

I was running again by 9:18 so it was a quick fix.  The motor was much easier to handle in this bigger boat.  I should have been watching where I was going instead of writing!

9:25  Towboat #3 - Northern

Photo of unusual tree stump

9:45  Towboat #4 -  Robert E. kicking up some big waves.

10:10 out of gas.  My little 3 hp motor ran 1 hour 40 minutes on less than 1/2 gallon of gas.  And I made about 7 miles = 14 miles per gallon.

As I approached Greenup Dam, my first Ohio River lock, I called for the lockmaster on channel 13.  I was thrilled to use my handheld marine radio for the first time.

"This is the sailboat Obsession calling the Greenup Lockmaster.  This is the sailboat Obsession calling the Greenup Lockmaster."
"Greenup.  Go ahead."
"I have just come in sight of you going downstream and would like to lock through.  Please advise."
"Okay.  I'll lock you through the small chamber.  We should have it ready for you by the time you get here, so just come on into the lock."

Photo of Greenup Lock closing behind me

I was tied up in the lock by 10:55 and headed out by 11:05.  The locking process was identical to that I experienced on the Arkansas River back home.  I motored slowly into the cavernous walls, found one of the floating bitts to tie up to, then waited for the water to go down.  When the gates opened and the siren sounded, I started the motor and pushed out.

But the one new difficulty was the amount of trash in the river near the lock.  There were LOTS of logs and limbs in the water in the lock and on the other side of the lock.  I had to weave my way carefully through to avoid shearing another pin on the motor.

Photo looking back at Greenup Lock with logs floating in the river

Towboat #5 W. H. Dickhoner

About noon I pulled the boat up to the riverbank at a place that looked soft.  I threw out the river anchor so I wouldn't drift away, and had a good lunch.  Since the water has been going down, the shoreline is extremely muddy about four feet up the bank.  I tried stepping onto shore, but my shoes sank in the mud.

After eating, I put up the mainsail and headed back into the main channel for a pleasant afternoon of sailing.  It was a beautiful day with perfect weather.  I was able to sail until about 7 when the wind died and I continued with motor only.

Maybe the song for the day should be Garth Brooks hit of the early 90s called "The River."  I don't really like Garth Brooks or his singing, but I have to admit the words to this song fit this trip pretty well:

You know a dream is like a river
Ever changin' as it flows
And a dreamer's just a vessel
That must follow where it goes
Trying to learn from what's behind you
And never knowing what's in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores.. and

I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

Too many times we stand aside
And let the waters slip away
'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow
Has now become today
So don't you sit upon the shoreline
And say you're satisfied
Choose to chance the rapids
And dare to dance the tide.. yes

I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

And there's bound to be rough waters
And I know I'll take some falls
But with the good Lord as my captain
I can make it through them all.. yes

I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

Yes, I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
'Til the river runs dry
 

Towns passed:
Greenup, Kentucky
Haverill, Ohio
Limeville, Kentucky
Wheelersburg, Ohio
South Shore, Kentucky
Portsmouth, Ohio
South Portsmouth, Kentucky
Quincy, Kentucky
Garrison, Kentucky
Rockville, Ohio
Buena Vista, Kentucky
Vanceburg, Kentucky
Rome, Ohio
Rome Station, Kentucky
Carrs, Kentucky
Chalkley Station, Kentucky

To read that list makes you think I was in sight of a town all the time.  But most of those towns are just off the river and MAY have one house visible or maybe not.  Greenup, Portsmouth, and Vanceburg were the only towns that I knew were there.

At Portsmouth, the Ohio makes a distinct turn to the west.  I had been traveling Northwest, almost due North, for the whole trip until I made the bend at Portsmouth.  There the river changes to run almost directly west for better than a hundred miles.

Not long after Christmas, one of my elders, Terry Trimble, loaned me his copy of a book called Riverhorse, by William Least Heat-Moon.  It's the story of his travel across America by river - up the Hudson, through the canals, down the Ohio, up the Mississippi, up the Missouri, over to the Columbia and to the west coast.  It was quite a good narrative and I particularly enjoyed reading the sections about the Ohio.

Here is what he says about Portsmouth:
"Portsmouth, a town with a first cause deriving from the Ohio itself, born of it, but now making itself into something else, a leopard wanting to become a lion. Portsmouth seemed bent on forgetting, denying, and hiding the river, turning itself into a place where the land voyager cruises upon the family sport utility vehicle, ties to a parking slot, and rafts the aisles of the mega mall.  A traveler on the Ohio doesn't see the town but rather a high, long, and forbidding concrete floodwall like a medieval rampart; lettering WELCOME across the fortress alleviates nothing…" (Riverhorse, p. 130)

Photo of Portsmouth showing the floodwall

I finally anchored in Brush Creek about 9:00 p.m.  I made 57 miles today even with a late start.  If I could make 66 miles per day, I could be at the Mississippi River by June 8.  But the weather forecasts don't sound encouraging.  It's supposed to be rainy all day Thursday with a chance of showers through Saturday.  I'm sure I won't do so well with thunderstorms and rain.

I worry about thunderstorms when I am anchored out.  A strong wind associated with such a storm can make the anchor pull.  I remember we had that trouble one night in the Virgin Islands and we drifted down on another big sailing boat directly behind us.  In the middle of the night, we heard his strongly accented voice calling out, "Your anchor is pulling!  Your anchor is pulling!"  That was an excitement I don't want to repeat.

I called Sarah about 6 pm. while traveling near Vanceburg.  It's hard to find places where I can get a signal on my digital cell phone so I try to take advantage of the opportunities I do have.  She said her mom was still in the hospital and that everybody at church is asking about my trip.

Brush Creek was not a great spot to spend the night, but it was the best I could find.  I thought it was aptly named because it was full of logs and limbs floating out on the high water.  But I had a well-protected spot so I only put out the small river anchor.  I knew would have to do much better with the threat of thunderstorms.

I was tired after 13 hours of constant river travel.  I tuned in to the marine radio for weather forecasts and listened to NPR for jazz.  The forecast called for only a slight chance of a shower or thunderstorm during the night.

I studied the charts to pick out potential stopping places (hurricane holes) 50 or 60 miles down the river.  That would put me somewhere near New Richmond.

I put a towel under the companionway hatch to fill the cracks and make sure no bugs came in.  As it turned out, such efforts were unnecessary.  I hardly saw any bugs during the whole trip.  I think I heard one mosquito late in the trip.

For supper, I had peaches, ravioli, Pringles, and chocolate chip cookies.

I was very tired, so I went on to sleep about 9:30.  When I closed my eyes I remembered the many spectacularly beautiful places I had seen along the shoreline.

Mile 388 Brush Creek
Mile 331 Pond Run
          57 miles made good today

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