Our Thursday night was calm compared to that of our friends
and family in the path of Thursday’s storms at home! We awakened Friday morning
to news of widespread tree damage and saw evidence of such on Facebook. Thanks,
Becky Chitwood, for checking on 417 for us! Love my friends!
Anxious to explore downtown Paducah, we pulled anchor at
8:04 a.m. and moved toward Lock 52 through which we’d have to pass to reach
Paducah. As I secured the anchor chain after an easy pull, the lockmaster radio
Clay suggesting we pull anchor and move into position. What an efficient,
organized lockmaster—necessary because he had a huge back-up due to a recent
shutdown in navigation. I was thrilled he had squeezed us into the rotation! My
thrill was short-lived as we idled the engines and maintained position for the
next two hours in wait mode; both lock chambers had repair issues, damage
caused by the barges exiting toward us. Two+ hours later we locked through and
traveled the short distance to the new Paducah Municipal Dock where I lassoed
our lines, and we snugged in for an overnight.
A sturdy and clean span dotted with electric and water
pedestals welcomed boaters to tie up for lunch in town or an afternoon of
shopping with fuel and pump out services at the ready. But the amenities were
few for the price we paid! I guess we were spoiled by the many marinas along
the Great Loop with wi-fi, bath houses, laundry facilities, even some with
dining on site and gift shops—and security. A long ramp was our path to
downtown, over a wide parking lot and through a lovely park area; I set off to
explore, leaving Clay to hose the deck.
I returned to the boat armed with visitor brochures and was
hailed by Clay informing me he’d been interviewed by a local news reporter—even
had his picture taken swabbing the deck. I’m guessing boats of our size don’t
dock here often. The Great Loop route encompasses only a small portion of the
Ohio River—and we’ve just completed most of that segment. For you geography
buffs, the Tennessee River branches off of the Ohio River at Paducah (toward
Kentucky Lake) and the Cumberland River does so at Smithland, KY, just twelve
miles upriver (toward Green Turtle Bay and Nashville).
Post lunch aboard, we trekked up the access ramp incline,
huffing and puffing as we reached the top of the incline and turned toward
downtown. Clay had perused the restaurant menus online over the lunch hour (a
favorite pastime of his), so we wanted a peek of the ambiance a few had to
offer. It was again beastly hot with threatening clouds overhead, not the most
pleasant of days to go exploring. We chose Max’s Brick Oven Pizza, endured only
a very short wait, and once again had the pleasure of a very personable and
competent young waitress. We find ourselves tipping more and buying less,
pleased with and rewarding excellent service.
The aft stateroom flat screen television seems to turn itself
on unexplainably intermittently as it did twice in the overnight this Friday
night—what a fright. The only explanation I have is we must have a ghost
aboard! These awakenings accompanied by those of periodic restroom breaks by
hubby made for a pretty restless night!
Tied to shore this Saturday morning we had opportunity to
wander through the Paducah Farmers Market, choosing a variety of fresh produce.
One vendor offered a selection of greens, among them Malabar spinach—which I
bought---two tubs worth, priced at 1/$3 or 2/$5. I love a bargain! The vendor
made note of the intense flavor and texture—he should have offered samples. I
can’t imagine anyone intentionally growing Malabar spinach, certainly not to
sell! Sure hope it’s nutritious because it’s what we got, so what we eat.
Tastes like weeds! It’s pretty, though!
Our priority in Paducah was to get our generator fixed.
Andy, a diesel mechanic, appeared late morning—a huge blessing because Clay’s
repeated attempts to dial Andy prior to his arrival produced failure after
failure. Quickly diagnosing the problem, Andy went to work and soon had the
generator running like a top! For you with engine interest, in the process of
installing new fuel filters, air (in our case, a LOT of air) often enters the
fuel line; and that line needs to be bled (removing the air) for the engine (in
this case, a generator) to run. Andy simply bled the line—a quick fix for
someone who knows what he’s doing. Andy then went his way, and we went
ours—upriver toward Golconda, IL. Clay made comment we saved three days with
Andy’s fix, well worth the price he charged—another reminder that many
boaters quote B-O-A-T as an acronym for “Break Out Another Thousand.” Or,
“a hole in the water into which one pours money.”
We had concerns that the Golconda Marina’s depth could not
accommodate our draft of 4.5’, so we chose rather to drop the hook (another
term for setting the anchor) across the river from Golconda at MM 902.6 LDB.
Remember that MM means ‘mile marker,’ and LDB means ‘left descending bank’
(we’re on the left shore as we move/face downriver). We had locked through at
Smithland Lock fifteen miles prior, a huge, clean lock chamber with a lift of
22’ and floating bollards—and easy ride up!
On that note, I’ll close to make final preparation on our
crock pot dinner of Balsamic Chicken, a Captain favorite.
No comments:
Post a Comment