The River: Dreams are made of wonderful stuff, and now the exciting notion of another paddlewheeler . . .

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

“I dreamed my dreams of the Mississippi River…” John Hartford

The only boating I’m doing lately happens after I’ve snuggled beneath a cozy quilt and drift away to sempiternal waters where youth remains unending, and death is meaningless. “Meaningless,” in that the characters playing starring roles in my dreams are often those who departed the world of the living long ago but return by night and continue as when we were boating together in ever-receding ages.

The only boating I’m doing lately happens after I’ve snuggled beneath a cozy quilt and drift away to sempiternal waters.

The boats usually seem distorted and out of place. It is not uncommon for the DELTA QUEEN to be chugging along a rural, blacktopped road as she would be steaming on the broad Mississippi. Just the other night, a youthful, unidentified pilot backed the QUEEN hard against a timbered shore while I looked on as the mate upon the bridge. Looking astern as the steamboat slammed into tall willows lining the riverbank, the boat seemed at least three times in length as she was in the non-somnolent world. Suddenly, Captain Ernest E. Wagner, the legendary Master of the DELTA QUEEN, appeared on the scene and commented on the feckless pilot’s incompetence. Cap’n Wagner, who died 41 years ago last month, is often a major player in my nocturnal excursions as much as he was when we steamboated together on this side of the mystic veil.

The DELTA QUEEN is not the only riverboat in my slumber realm. A variant of the GRAND VICTORIA II, my last commercial riverboat command, and the casino vessel where I spent over 16 years as the Senior Captain is also the scene of post-midnight activity between the sheets. Although the vessels never appear as they did in the waking world, I always realize which riverboats the distortions represent. The boats are often larger than they are in reality, with additional decks, cabins, and machinery. But no matter the extent of the disfigurements, I know what boat I am on.

The boats usually seem distorted and out of place. It is not uncommon for the DELTA QUEEN to be chugging along a rural, blacktopped road as she would be steaming on the broad Mississippi.

Not only do the nocturnal riverboats suffer distortion, but the waterways and the weather are exaggerated, too. The nights seem darker, the currents stronger, and the weather meaner, with few exceptions, than usual during waking hours. One anomaly, though, I always enjoy these nightly aspirations is that I am much younger and still in my primary seasons. Even when I recently dreamed of my adult sons and me together on a riverboat, I was just a few years older than they. I likely appear as I imagine myself to be. At this writing, nearly into my eighth decade, I feel better mentally and emotionally than I have ever been. Perhaps that is the “real me” in my world of dreams.

My southwestern Indiana home’s front porch overlooks the Ohio River’s broad sweep almost exactly at mid-point between Pittsburgh and Cairo Point, where the Ohio joins the Mississippi River. The unusually mild November days we recently enjoyed, plus the confinement of the COVID 19 Pandemic, has caused me to spend more time on the porch studying the waters of the river below my vantage point halfway to the heights of the surrounding river valley.

Right away, I spied three tiny white dots floating in perfect alignment just above the Consolidated Grain and Barge Company loading facility. Only an experienced river rat would discern the anomaly caused by the inconsequential specks on the river’s surface at such a distance. Immediately, I recognized the minuscule markers as fishermen’s buoys, or jugs, designating the boundaries of a trotline baited with sharp, barbed hooks to catch certain species of fish. Over the course of the few mild days, I spent several hours on my porch studying the fishermen’s markers while contemplating what catch they expected to haul from the waters of the Middle Ohio River. Often, dreaming occurs in the daytime as much as it does during the darkest hours.

Immediately, I recognized the minuscule markers as fishermen’s buoys, or jugs, designating the boundaries of a trotline baited with sharp, barbed hooks to catch certain species of fish.

Another manifestation of riverboat dreaming is fantasizing over a newly-discovered vessel, whether it may have practical possibilities or not. Such was the case recently when Captain Steve Huffman posted an ad from Craigslist of a sternwheeler in Washington State needing loads of love, tons of elbow grease, and corresponding bundles of bucks for an asking price of just $12,000. Within hours, the price dropped to $7,000.

The paddlewheeler, called the ANITA D, has a ferrocement hull, which seems like something from the futuristic Jetsons TV series, but concrete boats were first patented by the French in 1855 and remain the cheapest and easiest way to construct a boat over 25 feet in length.

Captain John Beatty once owned a ferrocement barge constructed during the First World War. According to Captain Beatty, the hull gained more strength each year as the concrete aged and cured. No one was more knowledgeable of such matters on the river as Captain Beatty, so my daydreams became more unshakeable as far as the reinforced concrete hull was concerned.

The nights seem darker, the currents stronger, and the weather meaner, with few exceptions, than usual during waking hours.

Immediately, I began researching the town where the cement-hulled stern paddlewheeler is located. Cathlamet, Washington, a town of fewer than 600 souls, lies within 35 miles of the Columbia River’s mouth. Originally, the area was settled by members of the Kathlamet tribe of Native American People. Lewis and Clark visited the village of cedarwood homes with 300 to 400 residents during the Corp of Discovery days before the expedition wintered at Fort Clatsop before beginning the excruciating, overland journey back to St. Louis in the coming spring.

Though I recently sold the Rafter CLYDE and have been without a boat since the CLYDE paddled away into oblivion, just the excitement of the possibility of another paddlewheeler needing attention was far more fulfilling than dreaming about surreal riverboats staffed by lamented crews from beyond the realm of those on the sunny side of the sod. It didn’t take long for me to contact “Kenny,” the seller of the paddlewheeler, and ask about the condition of the concrete hull and whether a new owner could live aboard the ANITA D once it was made liveable.

Quickly, Kenny answered:

The paddlewheeler, called the ANITA D, has a ferrocement hull, which seems like something from the futuristic Jetsons TV series, but concrete boats were first patented by the French in 1855.

“The hull is a concrete foam material that is in excellent condition with no leaks. I was just aboard her a few days ago doing some cleaning, and it’s all dry.”

When asked about the roof, as many boat rot from the inside out, I was told:

“The roof doesn’t leak either, and there are no laws locally that would prevent it from being a liveaboard boat.”

Already, there are three positive points in favor of this paddlewheeler. Now, I’m really getting excited…

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. 

The roof doesn’t leak either, and there are no laws locally that would prevent it from being a liveaboard boat.