The confluence also marks a twofold increase in both barge traffic and barge size. We are currently postulating that ultimately the number of individual barges in a single tow are limited mainly by the sharp curvature of the River in the area. We'll have to ask about that�.
We shanghaied another civilian today at Cairo, one Edmund Meinhardt, and forced him to drive Eric to a gas station for more fuel. Thanks Edmund! He was referred to us by a professor of Brian's acquaintance. Edmund is a graduate student at Southern Illinois University, Carbondale, and will be developing an article about the trip. What he will write we have no idea but he seemed suitably impressed when we marooned him at New Madrid (a town we almost missed: New Madrid, get a bigger sign!) Gracias por la cerveza, amigo! Hope you made it home!
New Madrid, by the way, is the town which lent it's name to the incredible New Madrid earthquake of the early 1800's. It is said that the quake rang bells in Philadelphia and was felt in New York. Midcontinental quakes tend to be record breakers. If I'm not mistaken the shocks were so strong that for some reason sections of the Mississippi reversed their flow immediately afterwards, but only for a bit. Lucky for us.
Well, we didn't run aground, start sinking, jump on any barges, attract the Coast Guard's attention, or hit anything today. Uh, no wait, I guess we were hitting things all day. Small things, mostly. You see, with the Ohio in flood there's an awful lot of extra debris flowing into the Miss. To navigate through this you have to weave in between the mammoth tree trunks, just barely avoiding the medium sized ones, while not minding the small flotsam. Or is that jetsam? I could never tell the difference. At any rate, Eric did a magnificent job swerving through the channel, as did Edmund and then Brian. I got to sit in the bow and joust at oncoming logs with the boathook.
We're 3 days ahead of schedule and looking to gain more. "Ahh, the Caribbean!" that's our motto. But Tennessee and Missouri are nice, too.
Via con agua!
Today, the 10th, was eventful. We set out from our tree and made way to Caruthersville, just a few miles downstream, to replenish our fuel supply. Like almost every town on the Miss, Caruthersville has no public dock � just a small park on the water hosting a boat ramp and not much else. We've gotten good at shore approaches: One of us kneels in the extreme forefront of the bow (the "pulpit") while plunging the longer of our two boathooks into the waters ahead. In this manner we know when we've reached 7ft of depth. As Faith draws only four feet (well, four and a half in our presently loaded condition), we can slow to a veritable crawl and nudge the forward edge of the keel against the bottom when we reach the shallows. On this occasion the River allowed us to creep close enough to the shoreline to cast the anchor right on the rocks preventing erosion along the bank. And look professional about it to boot, which is important when attempting the maneuver under the surprised and watchful, not to say amazed, eyes of the numerous Caruthersvillians gathered in the park this fine Sunday morning. One helpful native offered to help pull the boat up to the ramp so we could "drag her out."
"No thanks," we deferred, "we're just stopping for gas. Have to keep going if we're gonna make it to Panama."
"Panama? You going all the way to Florida?" (Panama City, FL)
"Well, yes, but we mean Panama the country. They have this canal there�."
"Well, I'll be! All that way in that thing??....."
At this point 2nd mate Eric and I set off with the empty gas cans to explore the uncharted metropolis, leaving Brian to assuage the concerns of the restless natives. It was, as I believe I mentioned, a Sunday morning in Missouri. We had a bit of a walk. Most of the sidewalks down here are concrete in this day and age so they can't be rolled up, but downtown resembled an episode of the Twilight Zone: everything working but no one working it. Everything, that is, except the gas station we found. We hailed some locals passing by in a truck who directed us to the edge of town near the highway. A long walk, they assured us shaking their heads at the distances involved. Ten minutes later we were purchasing our fuel.
The town is beautiful in its restful, decidedly Southern way. Flowers bloom in many of the lawns, grand old hardwood trees with vines snaking into their heights stretch imperious and protective branches over the dwellings, decorative colonnades, arbors, and swings grace at least every other back yard, even a yapping hound sauntered over to greet us�.well, at least a good romantic imagination can transform a yipping Jack Russell Terrier into a somewhat larger, more sedate beast.
In any event we got our gas and were escorted back to the boat by John McPhearson, apparently an itinerant of some sort himself who was intrigued by our story. Our arrival occasioned a small stir from a couple of the individuals now conversing with the 1st mate:
Individual: "Uh-oh, there's a black guy with 'em. You think they're all right?"
Brian: "Uh, yeah, yeah, they're fine. We're from Chicago."
Individual: "Right. You want to be careful is all."
Indeed. Good luck, John. Truly hope you don't need it!
We waved goodbye to the shorebound and continued toward the day's destination: Memphis!
Arriving in darkness we skimmed under the I-40 bridge and swung into the mouth of the Wolf River. This marked the new record � 129 miles in one day, Eric at the helm for 80 of them. The marina on Mud Island is a quarter mile up stream, just below a museum hosting a scale model of the entire Mississippi. We did a walk through on our way to the footbridge leading to downtown Memphis, and for us, Beale Street. Unfortunately, the bridge closes after 6pm. For that matter, it is apparently closed on Mondays as well, and the rest of the week for all we know�.
Fortunately, there is a second bridge connecting to the mainland, it's just in the opposite direction both ways for where we wanted to go. Good thing we're so intrepid. We were on Beale St. by 11:30, enough time to enjoy a beer and walk the 2 � blocks that make up the snug little tourist trap. One of the most entertaining snug little tourist traps in the country!
Back on Faith we happily listened to the marine radio once more predict thunderstorms for Monday. Our first day off. And us now 4 full days ahead of schedule!
Our sister Marjorie and her family, husband Dennis and my very first niece, Anika (cute as a button and fierce as an Irish pirate) will visit tomorrow!
Dreams of raindrops falling pitter-patter on the cabin��Hey! Those were on my head! Have to caulk up that bolt. And that one. And�..