I slept a little late, getting up about 7. It had rained hard during the night. The weather forecast called for a warm front (WARM! YEA!) to move through the area with thunderstorms in the morning lessening as the day went on. I decided to stay at the dock until the worst of the weather passed over.
After studying the charts, I realized that I might have trouble finding gas on the river downstream from Louisville, and I was running low. I bundled up in my foul weather gear and walked in the rain down the road in front of the Kingfish Restaurant looking for a gas station. Luckily, I found one about a half mile from the boat. So I returned to the boat to get the gas can and a luggage dolly I had brought alone for just such a time as this.
I returned to the gas station, filled the six gallon can with gas, and got a hot egg biscuit and cup of coffee. (Two hot meals in a row!) Then I hiked back to the boat pulling the heavy gas can, thankful that I had the luggage dolly.
It rained a little shortly after I left about 9:45, but the winds were calm and the morning was pleasant. I could hear some thunder in the distance that worried me just a bit. The forecast called for a "confused weather system for the next several days." I think that means it will rain on me for the rest of my trip.
I ran aground briefly at Beargrass Creek. I had been eager to see that creek because it was one of the potential hurricane holes I had picked out for the night before, and because it bears the name of Beargrass Christian Church nearby. Obviously the creek was too shallow for me to have spent the night. But only the tiller had caught in the mud and not badly. I managed to push off with an oar without much trouble.
Then I went behind Towhead Island, which was my second possible place to anchor last night. It was a very interesting place, but it had an expensive marina there. All the houseboats had satellite TV antennas. I thought to myself, "Satellite TV on a boat! Isn't that just the way most folks are? They say, 'Let's get away from it all and take it all with us!'"
I entered the channel leading up to the McAlpine Locks at 10:35.
The ride through downtown Louisville was exciting even though the day was
heavily overcast. When you have been in the rural areas for so long,
the cities provide lots of interesting things to look at.
I spotted a Bank of Louisville billboard with the words, "Ain't no river wide enough" which seemed an appropriate song for Louisville and for me:
Listen, baby
Ain't no mountain high
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough, baby
If you need me, call me
No matter where you are
No matter how far
Just call my name
I'll be there in a hurry
You don't have to worry
'Cause baby,
There ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you
William Least Heat-Moon says, "Louisville is where it is because the Falls of the Ohio, once the only significant natural impediment within a thousand miles, are where they are. The broad ledge, while not high, was just enough to stop steamboats and necessitate that cargo be hauled overland to a vessel on the other side; around the simple portage of goods, the city grew. During high water, paddle wheelers could execute a thrilling ride through the falls to avoid the haulage, and one nineteenth-century writer reported the flooding river sweeping houses over, occupants crying out from the windows and rooftops. McAlpine Dam sits upon much of the ledge now, but near the north side, the base of the Falls of the Ohio is still visible at low water, and from the limestone paleontologists have found a large fossil bed, an album of ancient sea creatures long gone before the Ohio made its first run over the rocks" (p. 151)
The McAlpine Lock had a lot of construction going on with cranes and
barges and men working all over it. Only one channel was open, so it took
quite a while for me to lock through.
When I called the lockmaster this time, I decided to use a different name for my boat. Hey, how are they to know? This time I said, "This is the sailboat Folly calling the McAlpine lockmaster." "Folly" is not a bad abbreviation for "Fifty Dollar Folly."
The lockmaster radioed back that it would be a little while, but he would get to me as quickly as possible. I moved over into a little side pool to wait. The light winds kept blowing me across the pool, then I would start the motor and go back to the windward side and float back. I had to wait about 45 minutes before entering the lock.
I still have a fear of the locks even after all of them I have traversed. There are always worries about the wind, the current, the towboats, trash in the locks, and tying up. But this trip is about overcoming fear!
As I entered the lock, I reduced throttle on the motor until it was barely chugging along. I tried to run right down beside the wall of the lock toward the floating bitts where I was to tie up. It's always difficult to make this maneuver alone. I have to swing the back of the boat toward the bitt at just the right time, then reach out and tie up with a rope. It would be so much easier with two people!
This time, I decided to leave the motor running slowly and I would throw the rope over the bitt as I passed by, tie it off to the winch and it would stop me. But as the bitt appeared, I realized it was higher than the previous ones. I had to stand up at the back corner of the boat and throw the rope over the bitt which was about 6 or 7 feet off the water. When I threw the rope, the other end which was looped over a boat cleat came undone. When I pulled to take up slack and stop the boat, the loose end threw me off balance. I ALMOST FELL OFF THE BOAT!
When I stumbled back into the boat, I accidentally kicked the keel winch handle, loosening it. Suddenly the 360 pound keel was free to reel out the cable making the winch handle spin furiously. It stopped with a BANG when my shin got in the way. I was surprised that the blow didn't break my leg, but it did cause an immediate knot to swell up on my shin (and the knot took three weeks to heal!).
My heart raced as I realized how close I came to disaster. In my mind I could see me lying in the boat with a broken leg. Or I could see me swimming in the water while my boat slowly motored forward until it crashed into the closed gate ahead. And my boat is high enough that it is impossible to climb into the boat from the water. I cringed as I pictured that embarrassing and uncomfortable scene.
The floating bitts
But as it was I simply waited for the next bitt, shut the motor off and very slowly coasted up to it for a successful tie off. After tying up, I had to wait a while again because the lockmaster decided have the tugboat "The McKinna Marie" = #44 (without barges) to lock through with me. As I sat, I noticed the big signs posted every fifty feet along the top of the lock showing the length. The lock was 1100 feet long! And I noticed that the boat was leaking faster. That leak was really beginning to aggravate me.
I finally exited the McAlpine Lock at 12:12. It took an hour and a half! Shortly after the lock, I spotted the I-64 bridge into Indiana. I didn't know until then that that bridge was an over/under kind. The only other bridge I ever saw like that was in San Francisco many years ago.
The forecast called for winds at 5-10 mph. Just last night at the Kingfish, Ralph had observed that the weather service says 5-10 mph when they really mean "no wind." He was right. This would be the only day on the trip when I never raised the mainsail.
12:35 Towboat # 45- Mid-South Towing Company
I have never gotten bored on the river because there is always something fascinating to see on shore. About 1 p.m., the river was eerily quiet with the feel of early morning or an impending storm. Of course, it wasn't early morning so that left the latter. The skies were heavily overcast but not yet raining. The river was deserted, and the water was flat calm.
Suddenly a group of 6 or 8 purple martins began to swoop and play around the boat. They reminded me of the dolphins that play around ships at sea. The martins were doing the same kinds of things. They swept low in front of the bow of my boat only missing it by two feet or less. Then they would fly around the mast above. One flew straight at me as I stood by the boom, getting within 2 feet of me before wheeling off into the sky. In the quietness of the moment, it was an incredible display!
I often stood on the boat, but I was always extra careful because of a fear of falling overboard. When a person is single-handling a boat, falling overboard is one of the worst disasters possible. There is no one on board to turn the boat around and come back to pick you up. But sitting for 10-14 hours a day is almost impossible. So when the waves were calm, I would stand with one hand on the boom or sometimes on the backstay. Occasionally, I would stand on the seat peering high over the boat, but I never stayed there long because the perch was too precarious. And I have to admit that I never wore my lifevest. I always had it in the cockpit with me, but it wouldn't have done me any good if I had fallen overboard.
1:35 Towboat #46 - Crescent City
1:40 Towboat #47 - Olmstead
Both of the previous towboats were going upstream carrying a load of coal. Upstream meant that the coal didn't come from Eastern Kentucky!
About 1:50, I spotted a gaudy casino on the Indiana side. It's
interesting that Kentucky has horse racing and a lottery, but no casinos!
We keep our gambling in check in this state!
Indiania Casino
2:02 Daymark 619.4 = 11 miles in 1.5 hours = 7 mph! Wow, my best time yet.
At 2:35, just passing the daymark at mile 623, I could see rain on the river ahead. I stopped to top off the gas tank and prepare myself for the coming storm. But the rain never came. I spent all day expecting it to rain at any moment with the dark skies, and dreading it, but it actually rained very little on me. I think about the weather A LOT! The forecasts for most of this trip have been pretty dismal. So I have spent each day anticipating the worst - thunderstorms with high winds and hard rain almost all day long. But for the most part, the weather was better than forecast. Today, it was foggy and hazy all day.
2:55 Towboat # 48 - River Princess
The river has been noticeably different since Louisville. There have been very few residences near the water and no signs of towns. Perhaps this part of the riverbank is low and tends to flood. It is striking the change from the other side of the McAlpine Lock to this side.
At 3:15, I could hear the guns from Ft. Knox, or I thought, "maybe it
is thunder."
About 4, I checked the weather channel on my marine radio. The front that had been over me all day had picked up steam as it moved off the river. It caused severe storms in Elizabethtown with some trees down and wind reported at 80 mph! I sure am glad I missed that weather!
At 4:25, a large 30 foot cabin cruiser that threw huge waves passed going upstream. It appeared to have a husband and wife on board, with the wife steering and the husband tending to some lines near the water. Their passing led me to contemplate the various ways other people do this same trip. I had to admit that you can do this trip a lot easier and in style in a $30,000 power yacht and stopping at marinas every night with electric hookups to run air conditioning and satellite TV! But then I was proving that it CAN be done in a $50 sailboat.
4:30 Towboat #49 - Robert McBride
About 5:30, just after I had passed under a dark cloud again without rain, I spotted a BIG BOAT coming around the bend. It was so strange to see another boat. I had seen so few boats on the river since Louisville, other than the towboats. And this was a big passenger boat! As it got near I realized it was a steamboat with paddle wheels. It was the Mississippi Queen! I was really excited to see that famous boat pass me by. The passengers who were braving the weather on the decks all waved at me, and I waved back.
5:45 Towboat #50 - Pat McBride
About 6:30, I pulled into Buck Creek. The creek was barely big enough to do. The main problem was overhanging trees which barely gave room for my mast to slip between them. But this was the only half-way decent creek for many miles. The creek was not much wider than my boat was long. I knew I would have difficulty turning around so I eased into the creek backward using the oars.
Buck Creek
I oared back about 50 yards to a nice clearing, intending to put out one anchor from the front and one from the back to hold me straight in the middle of the stream. When I arrived at a suitable spot, I threw out the river anchor from the back of the boat and prepared to hustle to the front to put out the Danforth.
That's when I first noticed that a slight breeze was making it's way straight up the creek from the river. It was just enough wind to blow the front of my boat toward the shore and the overhanging limbs eager to entangle my mast!
I grabbed the oars and pulled hard breaking one of the bull rings I was using for oar locks. I wished I had invested in the right kind of brass oar locks instead of making do with the plastic bull rings. But I did manage to get the boat back in the middle of the creek. Then I threw out the Danforth anchor and chain from the front of the boat.
I sat for a long time picturing in my mind how I was going to get the boat out of this narrow slot. I knew that if I pulled up either of the anchors quickly, the other end of the boat could swing toward shore and into the trees. I realized I would have to let out a few feet of the front anchor and take up the slack on the back anchor until I was directly over the back anchor. Then I would have to slowly pull toward the front anchor until I was directly over it and the boat was not moving. Then I could lift it aboard and hurry back to the motor and start it and make my way out - IF the wind didn't blow me ashore before I got the motor started. It all worked in my mind, so I didn’t worry too much about it during the night. But I realized that this creek was really too small for me.
After I settled in and had something to eat, I decided it was time to narrow down the search for that pesky leak.
First, I moved things around so I could crawl up in the each of the claustrophobic quarter berths to see if I had a leak around the bottom of the cockpit. I suspected that to be my culprit, but everything seemed very dry there.
I re-examined the pivot hole bolt, and it looked like I had completely solved that little drip.
By drying an area and waiting, I could tell that the leak was coming from farther forward. I suspected the front of the keel slot. I had noticed that the previous owners had put a lot of fiberglass at the front end of the slot. Perhaps they were trying to solve this same pesky leak.
So I had to move everything from the V-berth out into the cockpit so that I could look in the lockers beneath. It took quite some time to get all that junk out into the cockpit.
As soon as I opened the locker cover, I saw that the forwardmost V lockers were FILLED WITH WATER. I was alarmed at how much water! This was obviously the source of my problem. I removed 2 buckets full of water from the V berth lockers.
I sponged everything dry and looked for the leak. It came from a very mysterious place right beneath the cross-bracing. I couldn't understand why it would leak there.
I had a tube of marine epoxy so I decided to try to stop the leak from the inside, a task which I consider usually impossible. I epoxied the sources and slowed it down a little, but was still disturbed at how fast it was still flowing.
I must admit to panic. I was far from anywhere and that was a bad time to have a sinking boat. But kept telling myself to be calm. I seriously considered calling Sarah and telling her to come get me as soon as possible because… I AM SINKING!!!! But I didn't want to panic her.
I kept trying to calm myself down by telling myself this was not a serious problem. It would take an awful lot of water to sink this boat. I decided to see just how much it leaked in an hour. I collected several cups full, but it was clear it was not going to sink me. I might have to bail more often, but I should be Okay - if the leak was not increasing in flow. I didn't expect to sleep very well that night.
It was well after dark and after I had been battened down in the cabin for some time, when I decided to check everything in the cockpit. Just after I raised the hatch to make my way into the cockpit, I heard a loud KERPLUNK in the water about 40 yards behind the boat! It was an unusual sound that perplexed me. I have been around the water a lot in my time. I have heard the SPLASH that a fish makes. And I have heard the SPLAT that a beaver makes with its tail when it dives beneath the water. This sound was neither of those. It sounded exactly like someone had thrown a 3 inch rock into the water with a KERPLUNK!
I crept into the cockpit with my flashlight and shined it around trying to discover what it was that made this sound. While I sat there, I heard another KERPLUNK! And then about 30 seconds later, another KERPLUNK!
My mind raced trying to figure out what in the world this could be. There I was all alone in a remote creek far from anywhere and there were very strange noises in the creek. My mind went to those terrifying scenes from the movie Deliverance. But the banks of the river were so thick, I didn't see how anyone could sneak along the shore without making lots of noise. Were they throwing rocks into the creek to scare me? Well, it was working!
But I really didn't believe it was a person. I just couldn't imagine what kind of animal or fish it was. I sat for a long time, but didn't hear the sound again. So finally, I tuned my fate over to God, crawled back into the cabin and went to sleep. As I drifted off to sleep, I decided I would have to lay this episode to the mysterious "Buck Creek Monster!"
Mile 647 Buck Creek
Mile 600 Kingfish Restaurant, Louisville
47 miles made
good today