Mississippi Sail

Those who can't do, teach; those with no boat, bum. Once again, I am a grateful sail bum. Lock and dam 26 on the Mississippi River gives us a 38 mile stretch called Alton Pool. Tugs and barges share the water with cabin cruisers, speed boats, fishermen, jet skis and yes, sailboats. Watch out for the wake, steer clear of the big boys and you have a yourself a paradise right outside the back door.

Saturday's sun rose chilly and bright, a glorious autumn day. The turning leaves of maple, oak, birch and hickory promised a show, the cooler promised a picnic, and the river promised to roll. Our friends welcomed us aboard, and as the day warmed, we were off. While the winds let us down, keeping us from doing much actual sailing, we were undaunted. The river was kind. We motored up the pool, taking pictures, snacking and talking, enjoying each others' company and the glorious day.

From the river, everything has a different point of view. The bluffs stand tall and inviting; colored like a crazy quilt, a patchwork with no rhyme or reason, yet so perfectly designed. Ballooning spider webs catch on the rigging, streaming behind in a gossamer flag. Food tastes so much richer, drinks are sweeter, the air is fresher, our senses are exhausted. You could barely want for more. Maybe just for another day like this before the snow.
For more expedition pictures, click to eyespye.

Here on the Mid Coast

I don't remember who started the whole "Mid-Coast" thing, but I still like it. Back when I ran a record store and Nelly was hitting it big, we started talking about the Mid Coast. It wasn't rap from the East Coast or West Coast..... St. Louis had its own style. But I just like the image. The river feels like it's mine. I've canoed it, ran along its sandy Illinois side beach, played in the Chain of Rocks, partied on its cobblestone shore, waded illegally into its muddy water on a hot 4th of July, and watched it roll past again and again. The Mid Coast, it ain't so bad.

Ghost Boat

What's up with all the abandoned riverboats?

Just north of Alton, IL on the mighty Mississippi, sits this aging queen of the river. There's a couple of old tugs and what looks to be a cabin cruiser that's seen better days moored silently beside her. Some equipment and a fence, a car or two, obviously some kind of shipyard. Or salvage operation. I spied the queen and her court back in September, but did not have time to stop. I knew I'd come back. Are they fixing her? Storing her? Tearing her down? There seems to be no difference since we first met. There's doors galore, as if to separate cabins, a back deck, twin smokestacks and an enclosed upper observation deck just behind the wheel house. Was she a decommissioned over-nighter? Did she turn to day-cruising? Did she become a gambler's delight? Or is she just pleading for mercy from the spirits, now her only inhabitants? I wish I knew her secrets, but she won't give them up. She knows I'd tell.