When I came to the end of my courage after I had passed for 92 minutes through several barging/staging areas for oil and coal barges on the Ohio River, I threw a line to a man and his young son on the banks of the river. They pulled and I pulled. We were barely able to get my raft tied to the steps below the War Memorial at a town I just don't remember at the moment. I stopped trembling that afternoon.
I had been terrified drifting without steering or speed control down the Ohio River, between tugboats, across the bows of half mile long oil barge columns (I guess I could call them trains). The pusher boats are at the very rear end of these trains and my raft is so small and low that they cannot see me on the water. Even if they could, the momentum of those millions of tons of moving oil and coal could not have been stopped to keep me from being run down.
My little gas trolling motor died just after I committed myself to passing through ten miles of barging area, where tugs dash back and forth putting long rows of barges together like switch engines in a freight train yard. Not to fear, I thought. I'll use my solar battery electric trolling motor to steer through the danger.
But the first tug speeding by raised such a wake that it washed my feet out from under me. I twisted the throttle on the trolling motor so hard holding on that I broke the linkage in the handle. Aggh! Now, the electric motor was toast. I was adrift again.
I hauled out my 27 feet long sweep oar and mounted it on the pin I had set for it. This worked fine until the sweep hit something in the water and the blade broke off of the pole. For the next 92 minutes I prayed a bunch and asked Daddy if he was ready for me to come home. Even though I know that the Creator loves me a lot and likes me more than a little, I did not feel ready to head on home to heaven or wherever. I was afraid. All sorts of survival hormones were bouncing up and down shouting for recognition in my veins.
Any way, Daddy said to hang in there and I eventually made it to the Ohio state side of the river without being smashed by more boats and barges than I'll ever care to remember. I gave my raft to two grade school children. I had decided to be done with this journey for a while.
I slept that night under a gazebo roof and went to start taking my things out of the raft in the morning. For five months, I had not been bothered or hassled by anyone. I had left my boat many times to walk to stores or to the DMV. Never had anything been touched. That night while I slept on shore two people came and stole my motors and the little cash I kept in a file box. While they were going through my things, they threw my journals into the river. I found one in the water next to the riverbank. The ink had run and it was not legible.
I have been reconstructing those journals for the last few months as I hitchhiked to New Mexico. And I am now posting the rest of the story on this blog beginning today. So please extend me your pardon for the long gap in these posts. I hope to do better.
I had been terrified drifting without steering or speed control down the Ohio River, between tugboats, across the bows of half mile long oil barge columns (I guess I could call them trains). The pusher boats are at the very rear end of these trains and my raft is so small and low that they cannot see me on the water. Even if they could, the momentum of those millions of tons of moving oil and coal could not have been stopped to keep me from being run down.
My little gas trolling motor died just after I committed myself to passing through ten miles of barging area, where tugs dash back and forth putting long rows of barges together like switch engines in a freight train yard. Not to fear, I thought. I'll use my solar battery electric trolling motor to steer through the danger.
But the first tug speeding by raised such a wake that it washed my feet out from under me. I twisted the throttle on the trolling motor so hard holding on that I broke the linkage in the handle. Aggh! Now, the electric motor was toast. I was adrift again.
I hauled out my 27 feet long sweep oar and mounted it on the pin I had set for it. This worked fine until the sweep hit something in the water and the blade broke off of the pole. For the next 92 minutes I prayed a bunch and asked Daddy if he was ready for me to come home. Even though I know that the Creator loves me a lot and likes me more than a little, I did not feel ready to head on home to heaven or wherever. I was afraid. All sorts of survival hormones were bouncing up and down shouting for recognition in my veins.
Any way, Daddy said to hang in there and I eventually made it to the Ohio state side of the river without being smashed by more boats and barges than I'll ever care to remember. I gave my raft to two grade school children. I had decided to be done with this journey for a while.
I slept that night under a gazebo roof and went to start taking my things out of the raft in the morning. For five months, I had not been bothered or hassled by anyone. I had left my boat many times to walk to stores or to the DMV. Never had anything been touched. That night while I slept on shore two people came and stole my motors and the little cash I kept in a file box. While they were going through my things, they threw my journals into the river. I found one in the water next to the riverbank. The ink had run and it was not legible.
I have been reconstructing those journals for the last few months as I hitchhiked to New Mexico. And I am now posting the rest of the story on this blog beginning today. So please extend me your pardon for the long gap in these posts. I hope to do better.
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