The River: No end in sight; passenger carriers docked, towboats work away, he forgot cupcakes

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

On the river during week four of the COVID-19 pandemic, all the commercial passenger carriers remain dark against their docks for an indefinite period that has no end in sight. The faithful towboats, the river workhorses, reported no slowdowns in their dedicated missions of moving bulk materials, including chemicals, salt, petroleum products, and other essential commodities on the inland waterways. While down at Lighthouse Point Yacht Club at Mile 498.8, Middle Ohio River, the sternwheeler Rafter CLYDE has yet to awaken from her winter’s nap. Usually, a scurry of activities aboard the paddleboat this time of year has the boat a’ hopping.

The faithful towboats, the river workhorses, reported no slowdowns in their dedicated missions of moving bulk materials on the inland waterways.

A notably-informed cruise boat follower reported: “One of the largest paddlewheelers, almost totally booked for a cruise from New Orleans to Cincinnati, had 144 passengers scheduled to board but canceled the trip. It’s uncertain when she’ll go again. The company wants to get back on the river at the soonest opportunity.”

Meanwhile, the AMERICAN QUEEN and her sister boats may become hospital vessels in and around New Orleans like the U. S. Navy Hospital Ships, MERCY and COMFORT. Both these large floating hospitals captured the imagination of the viewing public when the POTUS dispatched them to Los Angeles and New York City to relieve stress on the local hospitals overwhelmed with Coronavirus victims. Despite the plea for the public to practice “social distancing,” New Yorkers packed cheek-to-jowl to watch the COMFORT arrive.

Down New Orleans way, Captain Clarke C. “Doc” Hawley anxiously anticipated the opening of the Bonnet Carré Spillway by the U. S. Army corps of Engineers to relieve the pressure on the levees surrounding the below-sea-level city. Cap’n Doc was concerned that the river guage at the Crescent City might reach 17.2 feet. “If it did,” he said, “waves from passing ships would top the levee and spill over into the city.”

He added that the Coast Guard issued directives for the ships to slow down as they transgressed the boundaries of the town. “With them going so slow, I thought one of them was going to plow into the wharves below Canal Street. That ship pilot had to be puckered-up real tight until he got the downbound vessel around Algiers Bend.”

At Lighthouse Point Yacht Club at Mile 498.8, Middle Ohio River, the sternwheeler Rafter CLYDE has yet to awaken from her winter’s nap.

“What else is going to happen?” My friend, former boss, and mentor wondered. “There’s the plague… floods.” When I mentioned that scientists discovered a couple of asteroids heading this way, but expected them to miss the Earth, we both nervously laughed. “That’s all we need now, is an asteroid slamming into the planet,” Doc added. His voice trailed off as we imagined such an unheralded event adding to the calamity of what was already unfolding all around us.

At night, beyond my second-floor bedroom window, the rumble of towboats laboring against the might of the Ohio River brimming with high waters reaching over 40-feet on the Cincinnati Guage fill the air and spill into my room. Consequently, I dream I am sleeping above the engines on the passing boat, and the sensation is comforting, indeed.

Now that I am retired and off the river as a professional, most of my big boating adventures happen after-hours while in bed nestled between the sheets. Once again, Captain Ernest E. Wagner’s booming voice rings out as he bellows orders from the bridge wing of the DELTA QUEEN. Of all my experiences on the river over the past seven decades, I would rather be on the deck of a steamboat as Captain Wagner’s Mate than be the master of any boat on my own,

Despite the plea for the public to practice “social distancing,” New Yorkers packed cheek-to-jowl to watch the COMFORT arrive. (Photo by Jose Perez/Bauer-Griffin/GC Images)

Only on those nightly incursions into the phantasmal realm beyond reality can I harken to the bark of the acclaimed master steamboatman who departed this life over four decades ago. Quite often, as I lay down for the night, I ask myself, “Where will my dreams take me tonight?” Usually, I find myself cruising on some spectral river of unseemingly irrational proportions with characters, like the Captain, who no longer walk among the animate.

A few days ago, I ventured out of seclusion, where I have sequestered since the COVID-19 virus sent me and so many others to ground. Realizing a need for a few essentials my family required, I was up, dressed, and slipped out the back door while the rest in the house slept. At the bottom of the hill on which we live, a small, independent grocery store marquee announced, “Shop Here. It’s Safe.” So, instead of heading toward the big chain stores further on, I turned into the lot of the locally-owned grocery and summoned the courage to enter the unknown.

Inside my back pocket, a well-worn face mask leftover from last year’s projects on the CLYDE and a couple of pairs of rubber gloves from the same source awaited in case the need arose. I elected to keep them in place and evaluate the situation inside the store before I chose to don them, or not. At that early hour, delivery drivers and market employees outnumbered customers. A couple of the deliverymen wore face masks, and one shopper entirely clothed himself in a hazmat suit. “Oh, Lord… what have I gotten myself into?”

Doc Hawley by Christopher Bryson – Down New Orleans way, Captain Clarke C. “Doc” Hawley anxiously anticipated the opening of the Bonnet Carré Spillway by the U. S. Army corps of Engineers to relieve the pressure on the levees surrounding the below-sea-level city.

Undaunted, I went about my business and found the items I came to buy. There were even paper towels, a welcome item to discover. With no sign announcing a limitation, I piled two packs of six rolls, each, into my small cart. Further back up the aisle, a couple of large packages of ground beef and chicken seemed reasonably-priced and large-enough that another trip for similar items would be unnecessary for some time. At the checkout line, the cashier informed me of a limit of one pack of towels per person and asked if that “was okay” with me. I answered to the affirmative but told her there should be sign informing the customers at the paper towel aisle. Outside the store, I sprayed my hands liberally with 70% Isopropyl Alcohol I brought along before I entered the driver’s side of the car.

Arriving home, I backed down the driveway close to the kitchen door, where I unloaded instead of carrying the plunder through the front entrance and inside the house. Making a pan of warm, bleach water, I used it to carefully wipe-down each item as I learned from an instructional video on youTube. When finished, everything associated with the grocery store adventure was disinfected, including the outside of all packaging, the car, doors to the house, my wallet, and the contents of my pockets, including keys, a flashlight, and assorted items. Then I stripped down to my skivvy drawers, hung my soiled clothes aside for washing, scrubbed the kitchen floor, and then disinfected my shoes, including the bottoms, with bleach water. Satisfied, I showered and went upstairs to the computer before the family awoke.

When I came back down at the smell of fresh, brewing coffee, Peggy had already discovered the new items carefully stowed about the kitchen pantry and refrigerator. Though she was delighted, she asked, “Did you get me a newspaper and find some chocolate cupcakes? And, what about the bread?”

Uh, oh… I forgot.

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.

Once again, Captain Ernest E. Wagner’s booming voice rings out as he bellows orders from the bridge wing of the DELTA QUEEN.

A couple of the deliverymen wore face masks, and one shopper entirely clothed himself in a hazmat suit.