The riverboat captain is a storyteller, and Captain Don Sanders will be sharing the stories of his long association with the river — from discovery to a way of love and life. This a part of a long and continuing story.
By Capt. Don Sanders
Special to NKyTribune
This past Wednesday was a busy day aboard the CLYDE. The paddlewheel awaited a scrubbing to remove six months of submergence in the murky waters of the Ohio River. Last week I wrote about water striders and other bugs running about on the surface of the water. But there are other aquatic critters, both animal and vegetable-like, that call the river their home. Unlike the free-rangers, these fluvial inhabitants find something stationary in the water to cling to and prosper. Logs, stones, boat bottoms, and paddlewheels are all fair territory to these clingers.
The Rafter CLYDE has an alluring red and white paddlewheel that attracts not only the eye of human admirers, but a plant-like growth finds the sternwheel especially appealing. Despite the old saw, “A rolling paddlewheel gathering no moss,” one resting motionless in river water for some six months, or longer, gathers its share and more. But are those green buds sprouting on the wheel actually moss, or are they “photosynthetic creatures that are neither weed, animal, or fungi?” I had to ask an expert.
The paddlewheel awaited a scrubbing to remove six months of submergence in the murky waters of the Ohio River.
My Facebook friend, Retired Professor of Biology and Chemistry at the University of Cincinnati, Dr. David Fankhauser, was the one to ask. So I sent David a mossy-looking photograph of the wheel and inquired, “Would you call this growth on my paddlewheel, moss or algae?” Like me, David grew up rowing a small wooden boat on the Ohio River, so I knew he would have an interest in any subject having its origins on the Ohio.
David quickly replied, “That is serious algae! Moss is a terrestrial plant, and to my knowledge does not grow in aquatic situations.”
On my next message with a picture of the paddlewheel sporting a liberal mantle of what I now knew was not moss, I added, “This is what six months of immersion in the Ohio River can do.”
A second photo showing the same section of the wheel, but now free of the muddy-green wrap, taken some three hours later proclaimed, “This what I can do with bleach and elbow grease.”
Retired Professor of Biology and Chemistry at the University of Cincinnati, Dr. David Fankhauser, was the one to ask.
Dr. Fankhauser: “Beautiful. I would wager that elbow grease is at least as necessary as bleach. It also helps to have a paint job that has integrity on a smooth surface. Right?”
I had to agree that the scrubbing was done all by hand with a non-synthetic brush. Power washing had not been considered. How often has someone offered, “Why are you doing all that work – don’t ya own a pressure washer?” Actually, I have two. But a high-velocity water jet will quickly chew up a small wooden paddlewheel, or at least blow off most of the paint. Besides, I don’t mind the labor that gives me a few hours to commune intimately with my vessel. Only a minority of water persons will understand.
David also mentioned that “it also helps to have a paint job that has integrity.” Again, I had to agree with his assessment. Over the eight years that CLYDE and I have been partners, only one particular paint I’ve found can remain submerged for over half-a-year and then emerge gracefully into the light covered in mud, algae, with a liberal sprinkling of Zebra Mussels embedded into the tiniest cracks and crevasses.
Quite by accident several years ago, when Lowes was purging their shelves of the product, I purchased a couple of gallons of Valspar Anti-Rust Armor, Safety Red, oil-based enamel paint. The short name for this paint aboard the CLYDE is “PWR” for “Paddle Wheel Red.” Although formulated for the ferrous, iron-based metals, PWR works wonders on wood. All the light-colored exterior of the CLYDE wears the same brand and formulation of paint but pigmented in white instead of red. As Dr. David said, “It takes a paint with integrity.”
David quickly replied, “That is serious algae! Moss is a terrestrial plant, and to my knowledge does not grow in aquatic situations.”
Dr. Fankhauser and I discussed anti-fouling paints using heavy metals, such as lead, copper, and zinc as an algicide to kill or deter the growth of algae. I mentioned that I read in a maritime journal where a shipyard, obviously on the Southern Gulf Coast, used hot pepper sauce mixed in their bottom paint to deter marine growths. How it worked to prevent algae and encrustations, I have yet to hear, but someone reported it was delicious on Shrimp Po Boys.
While I had David’s attention, I had to tell him about the time my dad, Jess Sanders, Jr., and I changed the canvas covering on the roof of our family paddlewheeler, the MARJESS, sometime around 1956 or ‘57. The canvas roof, painted for years with oil-based enamel that cracked the covering in a multitude of concentric circles until the cover failed, had to be replaced. Dad decided that he and I would be our own boatyard contractors.
My amiable father was a respected police officer in Covington, Kentucky, our hometown, and he knew just about everyone. He was also willing to consider the advice of almost anyone ready to render their opinion on any subject, including this most unusual situation. After hearing several suggestions, Dad elected to roll the new canvas in a dense layer of white lead paint he special-ordered from Paul Vogelpohl at the Covington Paint Store on Pike Street. I will never forget that the small tin of paint weighed some 50 pounds or more.
When Lowes was purging their shelves of the product, I purchased a couple of gallons of Valspar Anti-Rust Armor, Safety Red, oil-based enamel paint.
Together, we superbly rolled the new canvas in the white lead and linseed oil paste that lasted the life of the boat. When I told this story some time ago, my listener dryly commented, “Your boat would be condemned as a health hazard, today, if you coated the roof in white lead.” So much for that story.
Besides the algae clinging to the wheel, the shells of Zebra Mussels were another form of aquatic freeloaders needing removal from CLYDE’s sternwheel. Zebs are, according to the online dictionary, “a small freshwater bivalve mollusk with zigzag markings on their shells.” They are especially nasty after finding them residing within CLYDE’s cooling water intake line. But while the boat was in the shipyard two years ago, Chief Phillip Johnson made modifications in the line to help rid it of those pesky pests. Phillip’s patent remains pending.
The hard shells of the mollusks attach themselves with a stiff fiber known as a “byssal thread,” which holds the zebras in place even after the animal has died. Though the hose, scrub brush, and bleach mixture will loosen and flush away many of the mussels, my gloved fingernails and the edge of the wooden scrubber were often the tools of choice to pry them off the paddlewheel for keeps.
The scrubbing in the wheel nearly finished.
By 8 p.m., or 2000 hrs. in the Logbook, with the scrubbing in the wheel completed and the gear stowed, I took advantage of having the water hose charged and filled the potable water tank and tested the faucets in the galley, head, and shower. All worked as well as expected.
By the time I opened a can of split pea soup and microwaved the contents with a lonely hot dog smuggled from home, it was nearing nine o’clock. Although weary in a pleasant way following a satisfying day of productive labor, I answered when Peggy texted: “You spending the night, Sugar?”
“Nope. Just busy. Finishing up soon and coming home.”
After rethinking her query for a few minutes within the authentic steamboat-like interior of the CLYDE, I sent another reply: “On second thought. I will spend the night aboard the CLYDE. Won’t be many more opportunities. Love to all.”
Peg: “Ok. Sweet dreams.”
After sliding between the covers reasonably early, I awoke on Thursday morning, about nine, and performed a few chores around the boat before departing for the house in time to enjoy a morning cup of strong joe with my honey.
My dad, Jess Sanders, Jr., aboard our family paddlewheeler, the MARJESS, sometime around 1955 or ’56.
Captain Don Sanders is a river man. He has been a riverboat captain with the Delta Queen Steamboat Company and with Rising Star Casino. He learned to fly an airplane before he learned to drive a “machine” and became a captain in the USAF. He is an adventurer, a historian, and a storyteller. Now, he is a columnist for the NKyTribune and will share his stories of growing up in Covington and his stories of the river. Hang on for the ride — the river never looked so good.
