Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Four Legged Pillow

Have to share a story about my dog Merlin that tickled me.

I take a nap after lunch. Merlin always turns up in the bedroom. Sometimes he jumps up on the bed, sometimes he lays down on the floor as close to me as he can get. When he does get on the bed, he never settles face to face -- always it's at the foot of the bed with his hind end in my direction.

When he does get on the bed, and it's way more often than not, I'll reach down and pet his tail...it's all I can reach. About half way through the nap, I'll turn around and use his haunch or tummy for a pillow. He'll groan with delight as I pet my 4 legged pillow.  It seems this is heaven for both of us, I know it is for me.

Yesterday, he settled on the floor next to me. As I was drifting off, I got to thinking about how soft and cuddly he is and  was preparing to turn so I could reach my arm down and pet him on the floor. Before I could move, he unexpectedly jumped up. A little disappointed, I resigned myself to nap without him, but he immediately went to the foot of the bed and jumped up to assume his regular position at my feet. It was like he knew what I was thinking. 


I reached down, grabbed his tail and dozed off until I awoke to use him for a pillow. Talk about a Loveable Doodle!

Thunder Over Louisville




In July of ’97, a buddy and I towed my 16’ cuddy from Spartanburg SC to Pensacola for a Blue Angels Air Show. We had such a good time at the show that I did a search on the Internet to see what other air shows we might attend – especially those associated with water. The most prominent find was Thunder Over Louisville, an all day air show followed by North America’s biggest fireworks extravaganza. The festivities are the kick-off for the Kentucky Derby.

It was 5 years later, in 2003 that I finally firmed up plans to attend Thunder. I would take place on 4/12. In late 2002, I’d posted on 3 boards, for local knowledge on dealing with the Ohio River at Louisville; where to launch… anchor for the show…spend the night aboard. My wife is handicapped and needs a dock that facilitates easy boarding. Alas, I received zero replies.  OK, so I’d just have to get there early and scope the place out.

My wife backed out at the last minute – something about a wedding shower for our only daughter. I’d go alone…leave Thursday morning for the 425 mile run up there. I’d be there in plenty of time to get the boat in the water for a night on the hook. I’d get up early Friday morning, check out the river for 20 miles or so in each direction, find a good spot to anchor for the show and pick a spot to hook out Saturday night. Boy I didn’t realize then how far off base my planning would be.

I checked the weather Wednesday night. It would be cold in the mountains on the way up, but no talk of precip. Things would improve once I got through the mountains. I got on the road at 6:30am Thursday morning. Light rain started falling about the time I got into NC (20 miles). The rain got worse, and worse as I made my way up I26, until at about 2,000 feet, the hiss of the rain on the windshield ceased…the rain was now snow. If I could just get past Asheville I knew the road conditions would improve, but the snow got so bad I had to pull of the road because I couldn’t see. I waited in a Hardees parking lot for the storm to let up, during which time I experienced a thunder and lightning snowstorm that dropped 4 – 6 inches of snow.

This will put a crimp in your boating plans.
When the snow finally let up, I skidded my way out of the parking lot and over the interstate…to get a look at the conditions before I got back on I26 to continue my trip. The interstate looked passable from the bridge and the traffic was thin, but the snow was so deep on the side roads that I didn’t dare pull off the highway to turn around. And before I found a place to do a 180°, traffic came to a standstill. Luckily, a snowplow entered the highway right behind me and I was able to back the trailer into the plowed side road, pull out in the other direction and get back on the interstate.

But by now the interstate was stop and go, and I had trouble ‘going’ because from a dead stop, the uphill start on the slippery surface was a challenge for my aging pickup tires. I’d turn around and head home as soon as I got to the next exit…if I could get that far. When I finally came on the exit, I could see a police car blocking the entrance ramp on the other side of the interstate. Even if I could get off, I couldn’t get back on, but I had no choice, the snow had started falling again. As I inched my way down the off ramp, debating which way to turn, I saw the police car letting the backed up ‘on ramp’ traffic onto the interstate. It took about 10 minutes due to the congestion at the interchange, but I finally got back on I26 and was heading home. I worried about the steep Saluda grade that was ahead. Could I maintain control on the slick pavement with the trailer pushing me downhill? I knew that even if the side roads were open, I couldn’t get enough traction to negotiate the mountain roads, so the Interstate was my only choice. My worries were eased somewhat as the traffic slowed to less than 10 mph, nothing to complain about since the lanes in the other direction were dead stop and backed up for 20 miles. The traffic eventually thinned and the roads cleared up somewhat by the time I approached Saluda’s several miles of 6% down grade. I made the run down in 2nd gear, keeping the speed at about 30 mph, never feeling like things were getting out of control. I made it home about 5pm.

The next morning I was at it again. The weatherman said the storm had passed and the Internet said I26 was open again. There were several inches of white stuff along side the road from Saluda to almost Knoxville, but the roads were wet at worst.  I rolled into Louisville well before dark to scout for a ramp.


The only ramp in Louisville is at Cox Park. Cox Park is a very nice area, just up river from the Louisville city center. Trouble is, the storm had brought the river level up 8 feet or more and the ramp was covered with debris, the dock was totally under water, the river was running at better than 8 mph and there was trash in the river from telephone poles to the sides of buildings. I wasn’t about to put my boat in the water at this place. I drove 50 miles up to Madison IN, staying near the river as much as I could, to see if there was a place that would provide a somewhat more protected launch. I at least wanted a place where I didn’t have to beach the boat or tie it to a tree while I moved my truck/trailer.  I found a few ramps on the Kentucky side but they were all private and closed. There is also a very nice waterfront area on the Indiana side at Madison, but the high water, current and debris discouraged a launch there as well. Continuing down the Indiana side, I found several closed private ramps before I came on Duffy’s Landing, a public ramp in Jeffersonville. However, Duffy’s ramp was in worse shape than the one at Cox Park. It was getting dark by now, so I went back across the Ohio to Cox, where I was the only rig in the lot, and crawled into the cuddy for the night.

The ramp and dock at Cox Park - underwater!


I hung around the ramp on Saturday morning. There was bound to be some boaters more determined than I, to see the show from the water. And you know entertaining the boat ramp can be. The first fellow to arrive was about a 30 footer with a squeaky trailer wheel bearing. He messed around for about ½ hr at the prep ramp, then backed her in, his wife taking his place behind the wheel of the old suburban. It took several minutes before the big mill in the boat would continue to run without coaxing, but he finally got it in reverse without it dying. He goosed it but there was no backward movement and there was no churning of water from the prop. He did a few forward/reverse shifts, gunning each try…but nothing. Up goes the engine compartment hatch and he disappears below. His wife gets out of the car and moves back to the waters edge to see what gives. After about 15 minutes, he’s ready to try again. Nope, it’s like she never quite gets into gear. He walks back to look over the transom – what he expected to see is beyond me, but as he moves aft, the balance changes and his boat starts sliding off the trailer into the 8 mph current, only he’s not aware of this until he turns around to look forward. “Grab the bow! Grab the bow!” He barks to his wife. The current is no match for the grip she has on the bow rail from the trailer tongue, but he is able to get forward and off the bow in time to halt the rearward motion. They struggle for 5 minutes or so, trying to pull the boat back up on the trailer, finally deciding their odds are much better if they connect the bow strap and use the winch.
Pull her back up Martha!
Safely back up in the staging area, he lights her up dry and shifts from neutral to forward to reverse revving it high at each position. This cycle happens 5 or 6 times at which point he’s ready to put her back in the water…which he does. I’m thinking he’s very fortunate that he still can’t get a bite on the water to back the boat off the trailer, because by now his impeller has got to be toast. If he does end up in the river, he’s going to overheat, maybe seize the engine and have the current carry him down to the dam.

During this ordeal, I got to know a father/son team who was seriously entrenched at the ramp. Lawn chairs, cooler, binocs, scanning radio, extra clothing and a copious supply of food. These guys were Thunder Veterans, planning to watch the airshow and fireworks from down at the city waterfront, but they had learned that the entertainment actually starts at daybreak at the boat ramp. While watching the antics of several more launches I learn valuable info about my situation from them and others launching their boats; many of these boats were heading out for the first time after their winter lay-up. First and foremost, I learned that most of these folks putting boats in the raging debris ridden river do not have much water savvy. They couldn’t talk intelligently about basic boating safety, navigation, anchoring or boat/trailer mechanics. I could picture myself anchored for the show with not only pieces of dock and tree limbs floating down on me, but also some of these boats drifting by with their anchors skating along just waiting to grab my anchor rode and others, making a tangled mess of boats ricocheting off bridge abutments on their way down river. It’s no wonder lives had been lost on the water a few years back, as a bevy of boats made their way back upstream after the show, creating massive wakes and slicing anchor lines in the dark. It didn’t take long for me to decide that I’d be watching the airshow and fireworks from the bank. I also learned where I could park my truck/trailer for the shortest walk to a prime spot for the show.

Assured by the veterans that I would find parking for my truck/boat several miles closer to the action, I drove my rig toward downtown. The lot was about 2/3 full as I made my way in to the parking area at 11am. There were cars and tents and motor homes and travel trailers and motorcycles scattered everywhere. Many folks had staked out their territory with that yellow ‘warning’ tape you see around crime scenes. Families were filing out of the parking area pulling large coolers and wagons full of kids and gear, others were charcoaling or frisbeeing or sunning to pass the time until the 3pm show. As soon as I got out of my truck I was met by a partying group parked next to me. They complimented me on my boat and invited me to their party. I declined, but stayed and talked a while in the spirit of the occasion. I then walked the 1¼ miles to the riverfront park where I would take in the show. I had been advised that “anywhere between the bridges” would be a good place to be. After wandering here and there, I mentally picked a strategic spot, then headed back to the truck/boat.
Can you find my truck/boat?
Once back at the lot, I threaded my way through the maze of people and parked vehicles, climbed aboard the boat and dug out the single burner propane camp stove. In no time I was roasting cheese dogs on the open fire. The smell brought the neighbors over with an offer of a cold beer. I smiled and showed them my Dudweiser (O’doul’s). They snickered, but didn’t give me a rough time over my preference for NA. Then a nap in the cuddy was in order – to rest up for the return to the waterfront park for the main events.

I got back to ‘my spot’ between the bridges at about 2pm, napping away the hour before the airshow started. Shortly after the show began, a group of about 10 people settled in next to me. They were youngsters, flight instructors from the local airport. They knew all the planes in the show and their characteristics…my own personal commentators. They asked me if I wanted a drink or something, but the only thing non-alcoholic they could scare up was water. These folks offered to help me in any way possible and even said they’d take me up for a view of Louisville from the air if I was ever in the area again.
I watched from here. Note the bench in the water from the high river.
The air show was good. Not outstanding but good. Several of the star attractions were not available due to being pressed into war service, but the show was good. There were water demos too, and helicopter ‘rescues’. Toward sundown, the planes acrobated across the sky with roman candles spewing stars from their wing tips.
Tight formation




Twilight aerobatics
 Then the fireworks. I expected an average fireworks display, just longer than others I’ve seen. But when the opening barrage went off, across the whole ½ mile of bridge and the sky lit up brighter than the noon sun, my jaw dropped to my ankles. HOLY SH**! We’re all used to a vertical fireworks display. The massive horizontalness of this show added a new dimension, not to mention the overwhelming persistence of body pounding concussions from the explosions. Totally awesome!
Opening Barrage

The Wave

Rainbow Bridge

In the walk back to the truck/boat after the show I was one tiny component of a humongous mass of people. The flow was orderly and swift, maybe 40 or so across, filling the entire 4 lane highway. I was in the relative front of the massive exodus, soon being able to take in the pilgrimage from the helm chair of my boat. After about ½ hr in the chair the ‘neighbors’ showed up and we swapped impressions of the show. Then I turned in to the comfort of my cuddy, finding sleep almost immediately despite the noise/celebration of the parting multitude. When I woke up at 6am, I was absolutely alone in the immense parking area amidst the debris of celebration. There were papers, bottles and cans everywhere, with scattered abandoned barbecue grills, unwanted lawn chairs, discarded camping paraphernalia and forsaken coolers. 

I pulled out onto the now totally deserted highway and made my way back to the waterfront park. What had hours before been thousands of people amidst the roar of jet planes or thunderous fireworks was now only the eerie rustle of papers drifting about the empty park. In fact, it was so quiet I was drawn to explore the downtown streets of Louisville with my boat in tow.
The aftermath.


As I worked my way out of town, back onto the highway, a pang emerged -- I had towed my boat over 500 miles and she had not yet been in the water. No worries. Before leaving Spartanburg on my Thunder expedition I had noted the proximity of Louisville to Land Between the Lakes…only a couple hundred miles down the Western Kentucky Parkway. I headed out of Louisville in the early morning sun toward Paducah and the waters of Land Between The Lakes.

There was a Visitors Center at Exit 40 off of I24. It was closed, but a map on the wall showed several nearby boat ramps, the closest of which was less than 3 miles. I was in the waters of Lake Barkley via the Kuttawa Access Area in 20 minutes. I meandered southwest toward the Barkley Canal, stopping at a cove for a sandwich and a nap, then proceeded through the canal into Kentucky Lake. I explored a couple coves on the LBtL side as I made my way south, then cruised up toward the dam at the 62 bridge. Then it was back through the canal and up to the Barkley Dam, with a side trip through the marina to port on my way back around toward the ramp. I passed the channel to the ramp and continued southeast down Barkley to about Buena Vista Estates before deciding to put her back on the trailer.

I thought about splashing again somewhere in the vicinity of Nashville on my way back home, but was never inspired. I kept on trucking along I40 until well into the night. I slept for a spell in the cuddy in a rest area near the junction of I75, getting up before 6am to avoid the morning traffic in Knoxville. The trip down the mountain was very pleasant. I even stopped at a Home Depot and WalMart to do a little window shopping on the way.

So the trip really hadn’t produced too much boating. This isn’t a problem with me. My bliss begins the minute I hook the boat trailer to the back of the pickup. It’s the beginning of my getaway; a time when there’s no garbage to take out, no grass to cut, no barking dogs or ringing telephones. I decide what to do at every turn…total freedom. If I find pleasant boating during the adventure, so be it. If I don’t, well, I just need to get out again, soon.

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Truck Miles = 1,379
Boat Miles = 44.5
Engine hours = 3.7
Boat fuel = 8.9