Thursday, August 2, 2018

July 15 - 16, 2018, Alton, IL

July 15 - 16, 2018, Alton, IL


I will remind you that Clay’s and my favorite wall hanging is “Don’t worry if Plan A doesn’t work out! There are 25 more letters in the alphabet.” The first of many Plan B’s was about to emerge as we departed the T-head of H dock at Alton Marina this Sunday morning bound for their gas dock. Clay had sought confirmation that harbor water depth would accommodate SaSea’s draft of 4.5’ and felt comfortable fueling and pumping out at this location.

A simple toilet flush of the aft head toilet which created only a repetitive swirling motion—and nothing more—alerted captain and crew that we had a major problem, complicated by the fact that we had two days of anchoring soon ahead with no land access. Routine measures (mainly a mini plunger followed by a marina-supplied honker plunger) failed to produce the desired effects—flushing; it did produce an undesirable effect which I won’t go into but to say I quickly changed my clothes! And thus, hi ho hi ho back to the T-head of H dock we go. Vain were our efforts to contact a marine plumber on a Sunday, so we spent an unplanned day in port reading, awaiting an unpredictably predicted brief pop-up shower, with Clay at the computer plotting (what he was plotting is beyond me!) Dinner was a repeat Tony’s with different entrees—whatever made us return but for the fact that we knew where it was and the distance was doable. Guess it wasn’t that bad after all.

Thank goodness for Port Charles’ allegiance to repeat customers! We had scheduled and completed extensive routine maintenance (at least Clay’s excuse was “routine”) on the SaSea this Spring 2018 at Port Charles. Having dropped mucho bucks in the process, I’m supremely pleased that Paul Jr arrived Monday mid-morning to take a toilet look-see. Four-plus hours later and another biggie invoice had our aft head toilet flushing nicely. Ah, the simple pleasures of life! Did you know that a toilet hose over the years (at least on a boat) forms urine crystals which clog the hose much like plaque clogs an artery in the human body, rendering the hose non-functioning? Yep, now we know for fact! Hey Alton Harbormaster Greg, we have proof! Please note the above paragraph sounds like the process played out like clockwork, but not so. Read on…

Clay had alerted the first mate (me) on Sunday evening that we were to prepare for an early 7:30 a.m. Monday departure…forget the toilet issue. Thus, with my even-earlier-than-normal arise and shine to stretch and walk, I was midway through the routine when Clay suddenly announced that we would await the toilet fix before departure. Once Paul Jr was ensconced in the engine room which provided access to said toilet parts, I decided my best place was G-O-N-E. Or in synonym, A-B-S-E-N-T! The only shopping opportunity (don’t we women always seek solace in either the companionship of friends OR shopping?), with downtown Alton stores closed on Mondays, was Dollar General, a short two-mile walk but again in intense heat and humidity. Off I went while Clay assisted Paul Jr in the quest to fix said toilet. I returned to a situation resolved, toting a four-pack of Mr. Clean erasers and a four-pack of sticky notes, imaginative.

Too late in the day to depart for Kimmswick, Clay and I wiled away the rest of the daylight hours cycling a load or two of laundry (already Clay was requesting clean clothes?), reading, lounging by the pool and peppering unsuspecting boaters with Looper stories. It takes little encouragement for Clay to spout forth with entertaining recounts of our adventures. I’m even guilty of such, especially when our new acquaintances act interested as Marlene did. Afloat in a floatie innertube, newly retired and soaking up the sun, Marlene made for a delightful companion—and we found she had bought her boat at Two Rivers Marina and was a lifelong friend to LAMO resident Jeanine Kelly. Small world!

Desiring a peek at the world outside the salon and galley of SaSea Sally where we had spent far too many hours over the past few days, I made the executive decision to go out for dinner, letting Clay choose the where and when. Having perused a number of menus online (Clay loves that pastime), Clay chose Bossanova but tired before he got there on foot. Pausing wearily at the entrance to a restaurant, he noticed a number of diners entering the Bluff City Grill, an encouraging sign with a crowd present. A spacious interior of grays and cream with plenty of light and little clutter, we quickly decided on this Plan B. (A Google Maps check tells me the Bossanova would have added eighteen minutes round trip to our already weary bodies—Clay’s obviously wearier than mine; I can always eek out a few more miles!) Tres bon choice for meals and distance!

With a planned departure from Alton tomorrow morning (Tuesday, the 17th), I will close and bid you a good night!

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