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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Tight formation |
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| Twilight aerobatics |
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| Opening Barrage |
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| The Wave |
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| 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.
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| 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
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