August 11 - 13, 2018
We had a late night last night enjoying our friendship with
Lloyd and Diane Peterson who graciously showed us downtown Cincinnati’s
beautiful Fountain Square, complete with statuary to rival Rome’s (on a much
smaller scale of course), flowing waters and live music, followed by a casual
dinner at Rock Bottom Brewery. What a majestic sight the fountain presented—and
what a great photo op to preserve the memory! The night darkened with
sight-seeing difficult, so we took a rain check and look forward to another
rendezvous with the Petersons when we pass this way again—and we will; what
goes up must come down.
Saturday morning and in good company with many other
walkers, joggers and bikers, we walked the Airport Playfield Trail which
surrounds the nearby airport, then spent much of the morning with housekeeping
chores. Extremely tempted to stay in port another day, we weighed the odds,
then decided to forge onward.
Anyone passing by our slip C8 late morning might have
thought, “Wow, that captain has his crew trained right!” Now granted, it does
take teamwork, much of what we do in prep for departure, but I like to flow
from one task to the next, kind of a choreographed dance if you will, in an
effort to get it done. And, with as much practice as we’ve had, I do have the
‘dance’ memorized! I find myself compensating for Clay’s utricular dysfunction
(isn’t that a fancy term for his balance issues!), so I keep busy in the span
of time prior to leaving a dock. Now, time to head upriver, disconnected we
are, so off we go!
My impression is that Clay has done precious little planning
of this trip other than to realize that marinas, fuel stops and pump out
stations would be slim pickins’ on the Ohio River. And our Quimby’s guidebook
is the 2013 edition, making obtaining current information all the more
important (but the Quimby’s does provide the skeleton). Not to mention the
dysfunction caused by the Ohio River spring flooding! As we cruised now early
afternoon, I started calling potential docking locations, thankful for much
better cell reception than downriver; I got a hit on Ripley Boat Club in
Ripley, OH. We now had a destination and threatening skies—massive gray clouds
populated the sky all around us—as we cruised upriver. The storms on radar
seemed to be breaking around us, and we hoped for continued luck at least until
we reached Ripley.
We passed through Mehldahl Lock, MM 436.2 with floating
bollards and a lift of 30’, with an increasing tail wind. I left the port
fenders, all three of them, positioned as they’d been at Four Seasons. As our
ride up commenced, I realized that Clay would really have to compensate for the
tailwind or our bow was in serious danger of a fender bender with the lock
wall. Clay was attentive enough to avoid a dent, but not nearly attentive
enough to avoid my constant nagging; guess I’d better move that fender forward
of the stanchion next time. Darn, what a hassle! But the big fender looked
precariously like a female breast squished in a mammogram machine during most
of the ride up! I often wonder how fenders withstand the pressure exerted on
them! Must be made out of some tough stuff!
Some nineteen miles later and on approach to Ripley Boat
Club, we were surrounded by theatrical bolts of sky-to-ground lighting and knew
time was of the essence in getting ‘put.’ Dockhand Kelly earned his keep (and a
nice $tip to boot) in efficiently handling our lines, power cord and water
line—and beat the torrential downpour with no time to spare. We had arrived in
port a mere fifteen minutes ahead of the rains. The storm was quick-moving and
short-lived, but it packed a powerful punch! As skies cleared, a river of
debris floated past the Boat Club dock, collecting around the hulls of boats
docked here, ours included. And word spread that the rain gauges were showing
2”collected in the brief, half-hour downpour.
We continued the evening with dinner at Coheart’s, a short
walk away, where we traded boat stories for local lore with a couple living
upriver a bit. Following dinner, we returned to the boat and weaved our way
through the crowd gathered for the live outdoor concert. Our appreciation of
the Boat Club’s live band was brief for we anticipated a full night of muffled
music from our salon or stateroom. Happily, with our fatigue and the boat’s air
conditioning, sleep came easily and quickly.
Sunday morning found Clay breakfasting with the local fellas
(the Boat Club must be THE place to chew the fat on Sunday morning) while I
rinsed the boat free of the large collection of willow bugs adorning our deck.
I do believe SaSea Sally hosted a hatch overnight, and I surely didn’t want to
be stepping on them and tracking them around the boat’s interior or exterior!
Following Sunday morning’s engine check during which we
added 1/3 quart oil to the port engine and 1/4 quart coolant to the starboard
(my but I’m learning a lot about our twin Yanmar 440’s), Clay scrubbed his
hands at the galley sink and remarked that, “Up ahead at Holiday Point Marina
is reputed to be the best restaurant on the Ohio.” I casually remarked, “No,
you’re standing in it.” Although it’s quite a delight to dine out, I do
appreciate cooking dinner and using up some of what stocks our frig, freezer
and cabinets!
Sunday’s cruising had me thinking about my hairstyle
today—what hairstyle? It’s so windy that Clay’s nachos blew off his luncheon
plate, spreading shards of orange all over the flybridge floor along with a few
flying-saucer-shaped chips. As he attempted to climb off of the helm chair, I
stopped him cold and said, “You drive; I’ll clean it up.” We are fighting so
much debris from yesterday’s two-inch-in-a-half-hour rain that he can’t afford
to take his eyes off the waterway. And, the remembrance of the prop-damaged
little tug in Louisville sits forefront in my mind—still! There must be a whole
lot of creeks that empty into the Ohio River along this stretch where cell
coverage is now non-existent and debris is abundant. In water free of debris,
we’ve been traveling at a far greater speed (like, double) than we’ve traveled
in the past. Inquiring as to why, I got a nonchalant, “We have the ability to
go faster because of the newly-pitched props.” A lengthy explanation ensued,
much of which I tuned out; we’re still burning quite a bit more diesel which
Clay has always touted as the more inexpensive part of our travels due to our
slow speed. Hmmm…
Destination Holiday Point Marina, Franklin Furnace, Ohio, we
were greeted by John Stoeckley’s twin (in looks and in personality). I doubt
Phil Hand, owner, has ever met a stranger! His wife Barb was equally
delightful! Of course, Phil greeted us with, “We just closed the restaurant.”
(Unsolicited; no lie!) Further, “We had an awesome dock party last night with
each dock themed a different decade. Many of our boaters are still nursing
hangovers.” We were entertained by Phil’s constant chatter as we took on fuel
at a quite decent price and made arrangements for the overnight. In
conversation, I mentioned our sick dinghy at which point the good ‘doctor’ Phil
agreed to take a look-see. He and his fellas had never patched a dinghy such as
ours but were willing to give it a go!
Following dinner aboard and a good night’s sleep, Clay and I
walked the long stretch of asphalt road that led as far as the eye could see,
then returned to find Todd and Roger ready to offload our dinghy for repair. It
was a time-consuming process to offload the dinghy onto the marina’s work
barge, with our winch binding up twice (you think we’d learn after the first
time); it should have been a relatively simple task as anchoring is. We are
ill-practiced as we’ve not used the dinghy in over two years.
I hosed the deck free of the bugs collected overnight from
the dock’s lighting then tidied up the boat’s interior prior to departure. I
replaced the front head foaming hand soap with a new one called “Endless
Weekend” (good name for a boat?). Takes me back to our Lake of the Ozarks cabin
days in the late ‘60’s although I’m now the mom and not the carefree kid
enjoying the weekend skiing and sunning. I keep finding those little pops of
joy, though!
On that note, I’ll sign, seal and send this email on its
way.
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