october 12th - day 10 - Alexandria Missouri to Hannibal Missouri

Only once during the night where we bothered by barge traffic despite the fact that we where technically inside of the navigiation channel. Still once was enough. The girls woke me with screaming which did nothing to sooth the already unnerved feeling one gets when they're woken with violent rocking and the drone of giant engines just hundreds of feet away. It was about midnight. I threw the doors open and surveyed the scene. The Barge was long past, and we appeared to be anchored where we'd always been right next to shore. This is our number one fear when we're anchored away from civilization, waking up far from where we fell asleep, and seconds from disaster. Ofcourse so far the worst we've experienced is about 10 feet of achor drag into the edge of a little-used chanel, but still the threat is real. It appeared we hadn't moved at all this time, but in reality we had just a little. The waves had pushed us three feet through the water and onto shore. We went back to sleep, and no one woke up again untill around 7:40 the following morning. It was my turn to start us off and the girls where going to sleep in. I was in the middle of bundling myself up like a mummy when another barges wave action reached us. Again the boat rocked violently, only this time the portion on the boat that had beached itself durring the night, began grinding against small the chunks of shale that littered the beach. From the outside it might be enought to convince me to walk up and reposition the boat to avoid bottom paint damage, but from inside the boat it sounded like a car going through a steel shredder. I peeked out the window and knew right away that we where totally safe, but the girls where yanked from their slumber by the waves, and then introduced to this hideous grinding noise originating about four feet under their bed. Naturally they flipped out. Not only did they scream, but they crawled out of the bed, which is an awkward manouver even when your not in a panic, and yelled things at me that basically equated to "where gonna die, do something!" I rushed out the door knowing that by the time I had done something, the waves would have abated, and that my hurry would have been for nothing, but at least no one would be screaming at me out there.

The waves did pass, and the girls calmed down, and I learned that a shale beach is an awful place to camp, especially near barges. I pulled up achor, and started south, and the other two went back to bed. The day was overcast again, but visibility was good. The world had changed from the previous night. What had been a baffling maze of buoys in the previous nights darkness, was now as simple and routine as most of the river had become. I pulled on my parka, zipped it, and slipped up the hood, pulling it lower over my eyes to deflect as much wind as possible.

The scenery was changing. Iowa had been suprisingly rugged with limestone bluffs, but now the scenery was slowly giving way to flat muddy banks. The pines that ruled the north had been overthrown by leafy hardwoods, and an invasive ornamental vine imported from Japan known as kudzu. The vines could be seen climbing and trees along the shoreline, slowly smothering them and preventing the growth of seedlings. I googled this plant and learned it has many nicknames. "The foot a night vine". "The mile a minute vine", and "the vine that ate the south." We really have to stop importing things we think are pretty!

The architecture of the river had changed as well. Minnesota and Iowa homes all seem to be similar, with basements and other features we're all familiar with. Missouri homes and cabins are nearly all on stilts about ten feet in height, and they all resemble little boxes. Many have outboard equipped homemade barges with blue barrels for floats, and lawnchairs for seats. Most everything is leaning or pealing, or in some other state of disrepair. I would have liked to take some pictures, but my camera was in the cabin, and there was no one awake to bring it to me.

Around 10 lock and dam 21 came into sight, and I called down for assistance. Karla radioed ahead and learned that we had an hour and a half wait ahead of us thanks to a barge that arrived just a little before us. I pulled over to the south shore to a spot that I hoped would be out of the way of traffic, and dropped anchor. Then I broke out the dvd player. I proposed Die Hard 2, but was out voted and ended up with "The Emporers New Groove". My second choice. We didn't quite make it through the movie when they called us on the radio and informed us that they'd be ready for us in twenty. I pulled up andchor, and motored to the lock. We perched at the end of a small pier, and held onto a ladder as we waited for the red traffic signal light to switch from red.

We switched drivers after the lock. Jenny took over, and I went below and read a magazine while Karla worked on the blog. Jenny put in a 2 and a half hour shift, and switched places with Karla. The weather had been relatively warm (high fourtys, low fiftys. Not really warm) and Karla took over. We approached our first raising bridge. I had expected it to be a draw bridge and it's movement was so subtle, I didn't really realize it had moved untill it was half way up. It's also really hard to judge how high the bridge is when it's still raising, so we motored under it with caution since anything under 30 feet is problematic for Chicken Of the Sea.

About 2:00 we arived at lock and dam number 22. Our 19th lock and dam! I radioed when we where 15 minutes away, and learned that there were two barges lined up to go though ahead of us and we where gonna have to find something else to do for the next two hours. We snuck in behind a red buoy and achored a few feet off shore beside a rocky outcrop that I was confident would protect us from erant barges. The dvd player was still set up from earlier, and no one had converted my bed into a table for the day, so I lounged and we finished off Die Ha... er, Emporers New groove. We started another movie that wasn't Die Hard, but the lock called us up and asked where the heck we where since we where obviously near by but still not visible behind the rock bar. We motored up, and we where finally done with locks for the day! We arived in Hannibal Missouri with day light to spare, and tied up at a dock in the city marina. I did my usual hike around to see if we owed anything, but one advantage to floating the Mississippi this late in the season is that none of the marinas are open to charge you. The disadvantage is that the showers are closed down if they even exist at all, which mostly it seems like they don't. People that boat the Mississippi are smelly people. Remember that.

Hannibal I learned, is not where the Silence of the Lambs lead character got his start. He's not real and has no start. Mark Twain was real though, and this was where he lived. We had enough daylight left to explore the Mark Twain related sights. We walked past the closed Twain museum, and his boyhood home, and took pictures next to a statue of the man himself. Then we climbed a stairway to a lighthouse which turned out to have just under a billion steps, which is quite a few, and even more when you've spent the last ten days becoming a boat slug. We reached the top sweaty and panting, enjoyed the view of the river for a moment, and jogged back down. We where all starving, so when we stumbled upon the Twain Diner, we decided to stay true to our twain themed evening. We ordered and Karla ran across the street to beg the Best Western hotel for showers, but the they informed her that they "don't do that." I was pretty desperate for a shower by then, so I texted google to see if there was a YMCA in town. There was! As we where getting up to leave I asked the waitress where it was. She started to describe driving directions. I stopped her and asked if it was within walking distance of the river. She paused. "you don't have a car?" "No we're staying on a boat." She looked at us dumbfounded. "Isn't it a little cold for that?" "Yes. Yes it is." She looked us over for a few seconds longer hmmming and hawwwing and her behavior earned us the attention of the rest of the room. They all watched us go as we payed, and I think that might have been our 15 minutes of fame. No showers though. We strolled back to the boats, and changed clothes, then went to the 9:40 showing of Bruce Willis's Surogates. Cool show with lots of plot holes. Still, it was refreshing to spend an evening in a space larger than a refridgerator box. The boat was anchored only a few blocks away from the theater. We reached in within minutes, and went strait to our beds. Maybe it's the fresh air, but for some reason being a boat slug always leaves you tired when the day is done.