This blog post is dedicated to the best Mother-in-law a man could ever hope for. Elizabeth (Betty) Joan Merhab, 5/31/1939-9/21/2019. One of Betty’s biggest passions-aside from her family-was her love of the ocean and boating. She will be fondly remembered and forever missed.

Mike here again…Mary will return from CA this coming Friday. Can’t wait to have my co-captain back onboard. I am covering a lot of territory with this post, so please forgive me for such a lengthy entry.

Forever Friday and Scaliwag departed Hammond Marina on September 15, 2019. I had originally planned to travel down the Chicago River, through the heart of downtown Chicago. Being that Leslie, Parker & I had played tourists the day before and had taken the Architecture Tour down the Chicago River (with someone else driving the boat for a change!) I decided to follow Scaliwag through the Cal Sag Canal (Official name: Chicago Ship & Sanitary Canal). Due to their air draft (boat height) Scaliwag was unable to travel down the Chicago River, where one must be lower than 17′ to clear the lowest of the numerous fixed bridges. Scaliwag requires somewhere around 18-19 feet of overhead clearance, while Forever Friday can get down to about 15 1/2 feet with the VHF radio antenna lowered. So…off to the Cal Sag we went! The entrance to the Cal Sag is east of the city a few miles and as such it bypasses Chicago downtown.

The differences between the Chicago River route through downtown and the Cal Sag were profound. Where the downtown route was adorned with beautiful skyscrapers and numerous boats coming and going, the Cal Sag was…industrial. Lining the Cal Sag waterfront were commercial/industrial buildings that ranged from bustling businesses to abandoned, decrepit warehouses and factories. There is no “pretty” on the Cal Sag (well, maybe one or two misplaced waterfalls–more on that later). Remember the old movie, “Escape from New York City?” Yep…kinda resembled that.

One thing the Cal Sag did have in great quantity was bridges (over 40 of them)…of all shapes and sizes. Some were “fixed,” meaning they were high enough for river traffic to pass under, while many (too many!) were lift or draw bridges. The obvious down side to these was that it required a radio or phone call to have the occasionally cantankerous bridge tender open or raise the structure for you to pass beneath. Often the bridges are placed in close proximity…one occasion there were five (5) bridges in a row that all needed to open for us. The tender for the below railroad bridge was contacted and advised us it would be 15-20 minutes as he was awaiting a train…45 minutes later the bridge lifted for us. You can imagine how fun it is to spin donuts ahead of the bridge for that long…he’s not on my Christmas list.

Continuing down the Cal Sag, we eventually passed most of the industrial portion of the canal, and for several miles boated through a canal that was just that…a canal. We passed a sign that advised we were approaching an electric fish barrier 3000 feet ahead. This barrier was put in place a few years ago in an attempt to keep the highly invasive Asian Carp from migrating to the Great Lakes…hopefully it is working. We have heard reports from other Loopers that occasionally an electrical component on board would get “fried” as a result of passing over this barrier. While some people dismiss this as “hooey,” it may not seem so far-fetched that a sonar unit (with the transducer hanging below the boat’s hull) might not fare well with the powerful electrical field present. We didn’t chance it…we turned off all electronics for a couple miles, and then restarted everything without issues.

After traveling all day on this canal, we were looking forward to a place to stop for the night. A few miles south of us was Joliet Wall, a “free” wall where at any “usual” given time there might be a boat or three spending the night. Mary forwarded to me a drone shot from the previous day that showed at least 17 boats, some rafted to one another. Today there was likely several more boats in the herd. We didn’t want any part of that nonsense.

We read a review stating that the lock master at Lockport (the first lock we would encounter, just north of Joliet) often lets people tie up to the maintenance area of the lock structure, north of the actual lock—space and activity permitting. We called the lock master and confirmed that it would be ok to dock here for the night. We tied up to this “no frills” (and free) wall, dined aboard Scaliwag, and turned in for the night.

Being that we had essentially “shoe-horned” our boats into this tiny space, use of both bow and stern thrusters was helpful. In the morning, we both departed the wall and noticed a ton of small wood debris around our boats. While maneuvering off the wall I noticed my stern thruster was no longer working…almost the same instant Parker on Scaliwag advised over the radio that his bow thruster had given up the ghost! Did we ship Mr. Murphey aboard, or what? We both agreed that we had likely ingested wood debris in the thruster tunnels & had probably shredded the propellers.

Leaving the Lockport Lock at 7:00 AM, we knew we had several bridges immediately ahead of us. What we didn’t immediately know, but were able to confirm, was that the first in a chain of lift bridges wouldn’t open until 8:30 due to rush hour vehicle traffic. This was weird…we called the bridge tender, was told that he wasn’t sure he could open the span early, and commenced to telling us over the radio his life story and how this was his first day back on this bridge after a 10 year absence. We were essentially driving the boats in circles up towards the lock and back to the bridge, when lo and behold…at 10 minutes til 8:00 the bridge opened. We shot through and then heard the bridge tender being admonished by the down river tenders who refused to open their spans until the appointed time. Well…we we’re just a little bit screwed, as we were now between the first bridge and the second, a space of about one proper city block, with a healthy dose of current from the confluence of the Chicago River, and all we could do was spin donuts waiting for 8:30 to arrive. I spied a beat up, pock-marked concrete wall along the east side of the waterway, and noticed that in one spot there was a piece of heavy yellow polypropylene hawser (a 2″synthetic rope used to tie barges, ships, etc together) draped over the wall. I had no idea as to whether the hawser was tied off to anything on the opposite side of the wall– or possibly just a short scrap lying on the wall. I spun the boat around, coasted up to the wall and managed to grab the rope…a UV degraded old snippet of line that began coming apart in my hands, yellow strands all over the side of the boat! I managed to wrap the end of the line around my midship cleat…and it held! I still have no idea what, if anything, it was attached to on the other side of the wall, but at least I was able to sit in one place for a few minutes.

Scaliwag and Forever Friday pushed past Joliet and made it to Marseilles Lock, one of the two that were scheduled to close for maintenance at the end of the week. We were part of a record Looper flotilla of 27 boats locking down at the same time. The captains of two of the boats graciously volunteered to liaison with the lock master, so he would have just a couple points of contact. The two loopers then relayed information over the radio and coordinated the rafting of like-sized boats in the lock chamber–kinda like herding cats. I was able to raft along our sister ship, Heartbeat, and had to carefully maneuver in place. Parking the boat to port (left) is a bit more difficult now that my stern thruster is non-op, but all worked out.

This was a loooong process…when the forward lock gates finally opened, it was pitch-black. I was the lead boat out of the lock, and surprise, surprise, there was a 600′ long triple-wide set of barges with tow that was blocking much of the portside exit area. We’re equipped with Radar & AIS, and I really don’t mind driving the boat at night…in familiar waters…but this was excruciating. I would have loved a second pair of eyes–my contacts had been in since 5:30 AM and now felt like sandpaper. We crept along and saw a set of blue and white flashing lights a few hundred yards ahead. We then learned via radio that the owner of Heritage Harbor Marina (where most of us had made reservations for the night) had come out in his marina’s emergency response boat to lead us in. Playing Pied Piper, the response boat stopped on the left side of the marina entrance and played his spot light on the opening in the wall. Beautiful…once inside there were young dock hands running around securing boats to their assigned slips and generally doing the work of saints. If ever a tip was indicated, this was it. And generously–these kids worked their collective asses off. Always tip your dock hands!

We learned that the entire marina staff had been called out on overtime just to assist us wayward Loopers–the management had been following our progress throughout the day. Likewise, the onsite restaurant, “The Red Dog,” was kept open just for us. I realize Cheeseburger in Paradise wasn’t written here, but could have been. At 8PM, while most of us were chowing down, the marina owner conducted a river briefing advising of locks ahead, suitable anchorages, marinas, and general nuances of the river downstream from here. Very useful information from a most gracious marina owner.

The next morning, Scalywag and Forever Friday departed Heritage Harbor early–hoping to leave many of the other boats snoozing. We met up with Heartbeat down river and managed to very easily pass through the Starved Rock Lock…whew! Making it through those two locks before their closure was our driving force…now we could relax a little. *Note…the locks were supposed to reopen on or about October 5–this reopening was later pushed back to October 13. There are a ton of boats (40, I believe) still up in the Chicago area awaiting the reopening. Hope they brought their long johns & UGG Boots.

Later that day the three of us anchored, single file, in a channel off of the river called “Lower Henry Island.” We anchored in about 16′ of water, with about 125′ of anchor chain out–with about 200′ between each boat.

While at Lower Henry, I crawled into the cockpit lazerette (storage area) and disassembled the motor portion of the stern thruster. Hoping to find the drive pin broken & effecting a quick repair, I was disappointed to find it intact. This at least narrowed the issue down to a broken shear pin, or a damaged/missing propeller–both needing to be accessed on the exterior of the boat. More joy.

After weighing anchor the next morning, Scaliwag and FF traveled 20 miles downriver to what sounded like a “full service marina,” where we would be able to have our boats lifted out of the water via a Travel Lift. We were given instructions to follow a marked channel off of the river and into the “marina.” Scaliwag was ahead of me and turned right towards the 50′ wide channel marked with small red buoys. Almost immediately after making his right turn, Parker stopped the boat & advised over the radio that the depth under his keel went to zero. Being that we draft a foot less than his boat, I advised I would lead the way and call depths out. More joy here…almost immediately after making my right, my depth sounder stopped reading anything. This doesn’t necessarily always mean there’s nothing under the keel…but definitely means there ain’t much of anything.

I kept going towards the marina entrance, and shortly there after felt the boat plowing through a few inches of mud. At least it was mud, vs something hard, but I still cringed. Once I entered the marina the depths improved to where I had maybe a foot and a half under the boat. Pulling into a slip, I got out of Scally’s way…as I knew if he pulled back on the throttle he’d likely settle into the mud and be stuck there. Parker expertly drove his boat into the waiting Travel Lift slip…and was hoisted.

As soon as Scaliwag was lifted out of the water, I looked into the bow thruster tunnel and discovered that the port side propeller (bow thrusters have two props) was missing a portion of one blade…but the starboard side prop was totally demolished…just little nubs for blades.

The travel lift brought Scaliwag a couple hundred feet to a grassy area where she was set down on blocks. Parker was able to order a new set of props with a delivery a couple days away. The yard crew was going to haul FF next…but first they needed to go to lunch. <sigh>

So…FF gets hauled later in the afternoon and we discover our prop is DOA

I called the manufacturer of of the thruster blades and learned they could not get a replacement to me for at least 3 days…it was stinking hot, and I would be unable to run my AC out of the water…so that would necessitate getting a hotel for a few days. Doing the math, I paid the yard for the haul out, had them put FF back in the water, and motored 6 miles downriver to Peoria anchorage. Two days later, I motored 5 miles back upriver and put in to IVY (Illinois Valley Yacht and Canoe Club), a fantastic marina (and very inexpensive). I parked the boat alongside Heartbeat. A couple days later, Kent & Heather were on the same flight as me to Portland, Oregon. After spending a few days with my father in central Oregon, I boarded another flight to So Cal to meet with Mary & her family. On October 1, I flew back to Chicago, and returned to the boat. Walking down the gangway, I immediately noticed the water had risen several feet. As I was leaving the marina for the airport, the gangways were at a 45 degree angle…it was a chore climbing up them without slipping when it rained. Now they were essentially level. I turned our depth sounder on and saw 8 feet under the boat, where there was only 1′ when I arrived. After washing FF the next day, as well as visiting the grocery store for provisioning, I cast the dock lines off & motored south to Peoria anchorage. It was stormy…the below photo shows the boat oriented west…our anchor was dropped perpendicular to the bridge in the right part of the picture…the wind was able to overcome a 4 knot current from the river as well as several hundred pounds of chain. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and it rained buckets all night. My thoughts kept coming back to the fact that I was the only *target* on the water, and had a fiberglass antenna extending 19 feet above the water (can you say, “lightning rod?”) I took a little solace in the fact that a hundred yards to my right there was a tall metal flag pole with a gigantic glory. Hopefully that would be a bigger attraction than me…

Next morning I weighed anchor and headed downriver, bound for an anchorage called “Quiver Island.” Weather was overcast and drizzly, with maybe 20 knots of wind. Still, it was glorious to be back on the water and underway. It was hard to believe the extent to which the river had risen…campgrounds, a few houses, and boat ramps adjacent to the river banks were under water. The river was certainly at flood stage.

In normal water levels, we would have to utilize the locks to either go up or down on the river. The water was so high that the locks were in what is termed, “Open Pass” condition. Meaning, after confirming with the lock master, we would simply bypass the lock and continue down the river. While convenient…the concept is still a little scary.

The weather cleared up later that morning, and I arrived at Quiver Island at 2 PM after traveling 37 nautical miles. Anchoring in 14′ of water, I let out 125′ of chain, and settled down for the night. I had passed a couple tows/barges along my route here, but had seen no other private vessels.

The next morning (October 4th), I weighed anchor and left Quiver Island for Bar Island…a similar anchorage located 31 NM downriver. Arriving at Bar Island at 1:45 PM, the hook was dropped in 14′ of water, and 125′ of chain was let out. The current was flowing past the boat at about 4 knots…meaning that we would be held straight as an arrow. Once again, with the exception of two tows passed, I had seen no other private watercraft. After being used to buddy boating for much of the route, or just having other Loopers within close proximity, this felt surreal. I knew Heartbeat and Scaliwag were 100-150 miles ahead of me, but to my rear there was nobody remotely close, as the lock closures kept the rest well to the north. I had never boated so “privately” (solo) in my life.

While at Bar, I turned on the Northern Lights generator so I could have some air conditioning while cooking dinner. A few minutes later the generator sputtered and died…man how I hate that! I went down and checked the seawater strainer to see whether it was clogged…nope, clear as a bell. Ok, a couple more things to check–to include taking off the impeller housing plate and seeing what the impeller looks like. I was too lazy and I figured I’d do it tomorrow.

Tomorrow came…I can only be so lazy for so long…I went into the engine room to diagnose the problem with Ms. Northern Lights. These generators are extremely robust–treat them right and they’ll do the job for a long time. They have a bunch of “failsafes,” that will stop them prior to any damage being done. They’ll shut down for low coolant, low oil, high temp, etc. Fix the problem and they’ll usually start right back up. Removing the impeller housing plate, I instantly saw what happened–this impeller resembled my thruster prop…all the “vanes” had been sheared off of the hub.

It happens…you just have to do preventative maintenance…in this case it had been about 10 months since I last changed the impeller…think I’ll try to do it every 6 months or so. The biggest issue with a destroyed impeller is not simply replacing it…that’s easy & quick–nope, it’s rounding up all of those pesky pieces that like to travel upstream & clog the heat exchanger. So you have to drain about half of the genny’s coolant into a container & then remove the rubber end caps from the heat exchanger. Gather up all the errant rascals, put everything back together, replace the coolant & fire her up. She purred like a kitten…happy camper is me.

Almost done…thanks so much for persevering… After pulling up the anchor at Bar Island, I had planned to stop for the night-(or two) at Hurricane Island anchorage–a well reviewed anchorage that sounded nice. For the past several days, traveling down this flood-stage river, I had encountered so many floating hazards in the water that I felt I was playing real-life Frogger. Telephone poles, tree trunks, branches, house parts, you name it…it was all here trying to kiss my fiberglass parts.

The big stuff is pretty easy to avoid, however, there are lots of “sleepers” (called “deadheads”) that lurk just beneath the surface and will surprise you. At least a couple dozen times along the river I’d see something large enough to damage my prop-at the last second- & if I couldn’t dodge it I would simply push the throttle/gear lever into neutral. A non-spinning prop has much less chance of being damaged.

So…I was originally bound for Hurricane Island anchorage. After arriving I noted that because of the river flood stage, and the orientation of the entrance, much of the debris was shuttled down this avenue. I saw a 20′ tree section floating past, horizontally, and envisioned that connecting my anchor chain and bow. No thanks.

So, I continued a mile and a half south, and found a sweet area that was plenty wide, current was about half of the River’s, and there was little to no debris. Score! This particular anchorage was yet unnamed. Since it was on the “Dark Chute” waterway, I named it “Dark Chute.” Ain’t I original?

Tonight will be my second night at this lovely anchorage. Tomorrow, late morning, I will get underway and travel 25 miles to Polestar Marina at the Upper Mississippi River. This place is one of the few around that has a Travel Lift, and since I now have the replacement thruster prop in my possession, I am hoping to install it. Fingers crossed.

Thanks again for bearing with me…Mary returns to the boat this Friday–and with any luck you’ll be reading her blogs <mostly> from here out.

Cheers all…Mike

M/V Forever Friday