I was determined to learn to sail this new boat, but I was anxious about having to do everything on such a big (to me) boat by myself.  On Tuesday I had sailed with the mainsail only.  But today I decided to put up the jib AND the main.  I decided to put them up first thing in the morning so I would not have to leave the tiller and do that when the wind came up.  I left Brush Creek at 7:45.

It takes me a remarkably long time to leave each day.  Yesterday I got up at 6 and left at 8:45.  Today it was 6 to 7:45.  Well, I eat a good breakfast (Chex mix cereal bars are my favorite for breakfast and for snacking during the day.)  Then I have chores to do.  Moving stuff around inside the boat. (I do that a lot.)  Finding stuff.  (It takes forever to find anything.)  And today I put up the jib sail and tied on the lines and checked everything out.  I also cut a lot of short ropes so I could tie it and the main down in "case of a blow."

Someone once asked me, "What do you think about while you are going down the river?"
My best reply is, "Staying alive."  That sounds like a joke, but it takes serious thought to make sure you don’t get in big trouble on a sailboat.  And I think about that stuff a lot.

And I think about river songs a lot.  Rivers have inspired the song writers through the centuries.  I guess most of them got their wanderlust out by writing songs.  Me?  I have to go sailing.

One of the most haunting river songs comes from Billy Joel.  I think I first caught this song when the music video played on TV.  It was a strange mixture of Gospel with a searching soul.  Finally, I bought the tape so I could write down the words.  Turned out that it was the only song on the album that I cared anything about.  I don't guess I have ever heard anything else he did that I liked.  But this one still haunts me:

River Of Dreams
Artist: Billy Joel

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
From the mountains of faith
To a river so deep

I must be looking for something
Something sacred I lost
But the river is wide
And it's too hard to cross

And even though I know the river is wide
I walk down every evening and I stand on the shore
And try to cross to the opposite side
So I can finally find out what I've been looking for

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the valley of fear
To a river so deep

And I've been searching for something
Taken out of my soul
Something I would never lose
Something somebody stole

I don't know why I go walking at night
But now I'm tired and I don't want to walk anymore
I hope it doesn't take the rest of my life
Until I find what it is that I've been looking for

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the jungle of doubt
To a river so deep

I know I'm searching for something
Something so undefined
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind

In the middle of the night

I'm not sure about a life after this
God knows I've never been a spiritual man
Baptized by the fire, I wade into the river
That runs to the promised land

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the desert of truth
To the river so deep

We all end in the ocean
We all start in the streams
We're all carried along
By the river of dreams

In the middle of the night

I had trouble finding just the right diet for my little 1966 Johnson 3 hp outboard.  It takes 50 to 1 two-cycle oil mixed with gas.  But it seemed that every time I mixed to that proportion, the motor started knocking and froze up. I had to add oil and then, it did fine.

But if I mixed in too much oil, it blew smoke and barely ran.  Occasionally, I accidentally got the mix right and it hummed like a sewing machine.

My little motor was a life-saver.  Without it I would hardly clock any miles at all because the wind was been so fickle - light and from dead ahead.  I decided the wind follows the river valleys up stream, so it always was in my face going downstream no matter which direction I was heading.

I figure most people think a 3 hp motor hardly counts, but it can move my boat right along.  It has trouble when the waves get up.  Since it is a short foot motor, the rocking of the boat lifts the foot out of the water with a "WOODEN" sound.  Which reminds me of that old joke that they are making motorcycles out of wood now.  You can tell which ones are wood when they go down the road because they make the sound "Wooden!"

Today, I enjoyed clear skies and very pleasant weather.  The forecast called for partly cloudy skies, 70s, and North wind at 10.  I looked all day for that North wind at 10 mph, and finally found it for about an hour late in the afternoon.  The wind didn't come up at all until about 11.

My binoculars are sure important.  They really help to spot the day markers along the shore.  That helps me know exactly where I am.  They are also good for watching the many baby ducks I saw swimming in the river.

I reached Manchester about 10:45.  It was the first of several spectacular towns - Maysville, Ripley, and Augusta.  All are beautiful towns, at least from the water.

These towns captivated William Least Heat-Moon on his journey too.  Here's what he had to say about them:

"Maysville, as pretty a town as there is on the Ohio, appeared even more inviting, the golden dome of its courthouse gleaming like high justice, steeples like slender fingers beckoning the miserable and fallen, Federal-style orange tin roofs, white antebellum columns, green lawns bright with May, and all of it climbing the narrow river flats for a few hundred feet before the rise became too steep for anything but oaks and hickories at last in full leaf.

"At Ripley, Ohio, the spot Eliza carries her baby to freedom over the river ice-floes in Uncle Tom's Cabin, we found that rare combination, a village showing historic and handsome waterfront buildings, a stairway up the slick bank free of floodwalls, and a dock with a little barge café and a sign we though might be missing letters: FRI D CH CK N TOD.

"Augusta, another appealing village with a century-gone aspect, then a line of house trailers disfiguring the north bank for some miles."

Picture of Maysville, Kentucky

I saw many huge mansions on gorgeous bluffs overlooking the river.  And I saw lots of beat-up campers on cheap sites by the river.  Some with 30 foot cabin cruisers parked in the yard.

It seems that everybody who spots me from the shore waves, and I wave back.  Bet they wish they were me!

Just before Maysville I spotted a large mountain covered with snow.  No kidding!  It was solid white up there.  Then I rounded the bend and saw some kind of processing plant below.

Photo of mountain covered with snow in the distance
 

The tugboat Mary Alice Baker was working some barges at the plant, so I hailed the captain on the marine radio.  He informed me that the plant was a lime processing plant, and that mountain of white was waste lime!

I overheard another tugboat captain talking on the radio.  He said he works "35 off 5," which I took to mean that he works 35 days on the towboat and then gets 5 days off.  The person on the other end responded, "Lord!  What are you going to do with all that money?"  He replied, "Well, I think I've worked enough that I can take the rest of the year off."

I use the radio very sparingly to save the batteries.  When I do use it I say, "This is the sailboat Obsession calling the Mary Alice Baker."  I say that because I just can't bring myself to say, "This is the Fifty Dollar Folly calling the Mary Alice Baker."

Towboat #8 Harry J. Brock
Towboat #9 Enid Dibert
Towboat #10 Mid-South Towing Company
Towboat #11 River Eagle

Shortly after Maysville, I spotted the new bridge ahead.  It is an ultra modern design with two tall pillars and brilliant white cables extended both ways.  The cables make the shape of two pyramids.

Photo of Maysville bridge in the distance

Close up of Maysville bridge

About 2, I got a signal on my cell phone so I called Will.  Sarah was out.  Then I called back about 4:30 and caught Sarah.  I was eager to give her an update so she share the report at church tonight.

I told Sarah that I had picked out a little creek called Patterson's Run as the place to spend the night.  Since her maiden name was Patterson, it seemed like divine providence that I should stay there.  When I got there, it looked like a perfect place, except for the many logs washed up on shore all around there.  This area right before the dam collects all the river trash.  I noticed the same thing on the Big Sandy near Louisa.

The hole looked perfect, but as I gently oared my way in I spotted overhead power lines running low across the entrance.  Regretfully, I had to pass up Patterson's Run.

Photo of Patterson's Run

So I went on to Crooked Creek, just down the shore from Chilo, Ohio.  It looked perfect too and was a little larger than Patterson's Run.  The sign said, "Wilderness Wildlife Area - Boating Discouraged."  It didn't say "Prohibited" and I was desperate for a hurricane hole to spend the night.  I eased in and anchored in the middle of the first bend.  At least I wouldn't have to worry about other boaters.

After settling in, I spotted a beaver swimming all around the boat.  He finally slapped his tail and dove beneath the pile of limbs where he had made a home.  Then I watched a rabbit hop along the shore for 30 minutes or more.

The forecast called for rain that night, but no serious winds - yet.  However, I didn't want to be anxious all night so I set 2 anchors.  Until now I have just used my old river anchor which is great in these muddy bottoms.  But for insurance I threw in the Danforth-type with 15 feet of chain.  That sucker was not going anywhere.

For supper I enjoyed an orange, canned pineapple, the wheat bread that Blake sent me with peanut butter, canned corn, beef jerky and Fig Newtons.  For lunch, I had beanie weenies and Vienna sausage and 2 chex mix bars.  I've had plenty to eat and don't think I could possibly eat all the food I have on board.

I am thankful for the clear companionway board I made from a piece of office chair matting.  It lets in light enough to write with even though everything is closed up tight for the night.

I actually had about 1 1/2 hours of good sailing this afternoon.  It's the only time the wind has been steady and from a favorable direction for sailing.  I am really liking how this boat handles under sail.  I really like my boat, and I am proud to have it.

Tomorrow I should make it to somewhere around Lawrenceburg, Ohio.  Better look for some good hurricane holes because thunderstorms are predicted for tomorrow night.

Mile 434 Crooked Creek
Mile 388 Brush Creek
           46 miles made good today

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