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Show RIVER knows America and can tell horror stories about the power of her wakes. On my raft trip in '69,1 heard about her from an old black man in Hannibal, from ex-deckhands in Southern Missouri, and from active rivermen all down the line. Several old-timers looked at our raft and assured us that America would reduce her to splinters and drifting oil drums. I fought my way through the swamp into Cairo where I checked my mail at the Post Office. There was a letter from my girlfriend in California that lifted my already flying spirits. I crossed the street to the O & O and persuaded Ralph to come and take a boat ride, and we were back at the point straightaway. The America was still treading water out in the Ohio, her engines putting out just enough power to counter the current, while harbor tugs hauled barges from the Kentucky shore to make up her new tow. I wanted to row out and board the America. I was excited as hell at the prospect of seeing the King Kong of towboats up close. We loaded my boat with gear and dog and rowed out into the Ohio. Ralph's added weight made the boat ride very low in the water, but the current was weak on the Illinois shore and we headed to the enormous riverboat. It was perfect river weather. The sky was clean and blue and a mild, warm wind blew out of the south. Ralph was fascinated by the sensation of being in a small boat. It was overpowering: at any distance from shore you felt as insignificant as a coconut on the ocean. In mid-river the current came alive and swept us away from America. It was pointless trying to row against all that concentrated power and we made for the Kentucky shore. I wanted to tie up to the barges moored there and take some pictures. It was a long row and Ralph and I got deep into conversation. We'd -34- |
