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The Tugfest blog 
is an international maritime enthusiasts news weblog. Articles that are posted here include news about the annual tugboat festival (read the festival), photo essays, world tugboat news, events and other general maritime news related to the great lakes and beyond. Have news to share? Simply click here - if it floats - we'll post it for you.
Cold day in Boston Harbor and Penobscot Bay
A Virginia L Thorndike Picture (Thanks Virginia)
Capt Bob |12:06 EST |Comments (0)
USGC Sturgeon Bay
Picture By ssuthe7880@aol.com tugboats@yahoogroups.com
Capt Bob |11:05 EST |Comments (0)
Travels With Roland (Tug Restless)
Entering the Caloosahatchee River at Ft. Meyers the 26th of December, the multimillion dollars homes with million dollar yachts in their backyards, slowly transition to normal homes, vacant land, large commercial farms, with the occasional cow wadding alone the shore, to a moss hung wilderness. After the confines of the Intra Costal Waterway, the river is a welcome relief, presenting itself in a straightforward manor, with few navigational aids necessary and a depth averaging 15 to 20 feet. Connecting with the Okeechobee Waterway that connects both the East and West Coasts of Florida, it serves as an access to many a Hurricane Hole when weather threatens either shore. Several very large boatyards are located in this hinterland with storage being their primary business. Unlike the typical marine locks that are flooded and emptied by a series of valves and manifolds, those on the Okeechobee Waterway are without plumbing. Here after entering the lock, and having the door closed behind you, the opposite door is cracked open 2-3 feet allowing it to either fill or empty. This can be a bit disconcerting, when you're looking at 6 to 8 feet of water presenting itself as a small tsunami being withheld by what appears as a dyke with a crack in it. My greatest concern during such transits, were always of an electrical switch sticking in the “Open,” position during the initial flooding process. On the other hand, should you arrive while the lockmaster and the line handler are in the mist of a heavy card game, and anxious to get you on your way so that the dealing can resume, anticipate a bit of a wild ride within the lock as a result of a wider than normal door opening. Exiting the lock at Moore Haven enroute to Clewiston, the waterway makes a hard 90-degree turn to the east, skirting the southern rim of Lake Okeechobee. As a result two disastrous hurricanes in the 1920s when the lake was literally blown out of its banks, a levee system presents itself in the form of a large berm that begins at the shoreline and encompasses the entire lake. Off to port (lake side of the waterway) a collection of spoil and low barrier islands made up of saw grass, and dead forest as a result of environmental change, blocks access and view of the lake. Arriving at Clewiston the afternoon of December 27th,and seeking a place to secure for the night, it is necessary to turn off the canal and pass thru a Hurricane Gate that protects the town from the ravages of the lake during adverse conditions. Presenting itself as nothing more than a navigational lock entrance, normally left with both sets of doors open, and cut within the levee, it gives the impression of entering a fortress, much like the protective gate that separated the village and jungle in the movie; King Kong. Departing this Castillo, and the Roland Martin Marina early the 28th of December for Port St. Lucie, requires a transit of approximately 10 miles thru a very defined channel, before entering the open water of the lake. Although the centerpiece of South Florida’s water resource system, and the second largest freshwater body wholly located in the continental USA after Lake Michigan, it is not the type of place that you might be interested in washing down you boat. The water has an appearance of an industrial river, rather than a fresh water lake. Depth averages only 11 to 17 feet, depending upon the season, and annual rainfall. Low shoreline elevation, gives an impression of a far greater size and distance off shore. After an approximate run of 25 miles, the waterway is reentered at Port Mayaca on the Eastern Shore. Here again, it is necessary to transit a Hurricane Gate in the form of a Marine Lock that is normally left open at both ends unless things get a bit drafty. As with most of the river and canal sections of the waterway, the natural course is sufficient to outline where one should be sailing, making few navigational aids necessary until again nearing the ICW. Leaving Port St. Lucia the morning of Dec.30, the turn North into the ICW has a very significant affect upon the psychic. No matter where the exact mid point may lie when doing, “the Loop”, a turn in the direction from which you came, now gives the impression that the first half of the voyage is over.
Capt Bob |15:22 EST |Comments (0)
Travels With Roland (Tug Restless)
After watching TV programs like Miami Vice, you probably concluded that such nautical antics on the Intracoastal were pure Hollywood. The fact is; this is pretty much a slice of a normal day on the waterway. Spend any kind of time in this locale, and you’ll probably come to the conclusion, that the meaning of courtesy afloat has a different meaning here, and perhaps many of the operators running boats, have been in the sun too long.
Power boats in this location of the country, all seem to have undergone a retrofit, by having their throttles removed in favor of a switch marked with only two positions: “Standby,” and “Warp Nine.” Either they run wide open, or are stopped. Moderation is rarely exhibited. The need to secure ones boat for sea, while transiting the Intracoastal or chugging thru the backwaters of Florida is nearly the same as battling your way around Cape Horn. Be prepared for the worst the sea has to offer.
Recently, near Titusville Florida, I over heard a radio transmission on channel #16 from a pleasure boat that apparently had been put on her beam ends, after being overtaken by a large cruiser. Hailing the boat by name, the skipper voiced his concern regarding the high speed, close aboard overtake, while having children aboard, and “Asked” that he be a bit more considerate in the future. The reply that followed came in the form of a “Cat Call.”
My own experience with such lack of consideration afloat, occurred midway between Ft. Meyers and Lake Okeechobee on the Caloosahatchee Canal. In a section of the waterway, but 300 feet wide, I was startled to suddenly find myself being overtaken by a 55-foot Sport Fishermen, 20 feet off my starboard beam, running in a plow attitude, and generating a massive wake. With no options available, other than to take the punishment which was about to be delivered, I put a death grip on a hand hold bolted to the bulkhead, while all that had not been secured for a voyage thru the Strait of Magellan crashed to the deck. To state that I was a bit annoyed by this action would be claiming that I am far more charitable of an individual than I am truly known to be. As a further insult, I found it incredulous that the operator was so oblivious to his actions, that he actually smiled and waved to me in passing. My return gesture required only one hand as well, to express my feelings of goodwill.
Leaving Tarpon Springs December 16th, I had not even joined the ICW before the jet jockey like close aboard overtakes began. Let me emphasize; “There is plenty of surface water in this region, but very little beneath it,” and the area of operations is severely limited to that which has either a propeller or keel in the water. Although the change in depth is not as significant as the North Channel or Georgian Bay, where you can go from 3 inches to 300 feet in the length of your boat, the boundary between being afloat and hard aground is normally a line drawn between markers depicting its boundaries. In many areas, the ICW is really nothing more than a ditch dredged thru a coastal area, and with constant shoaling in some locations, markers can be deceptive unless you are running the centerline of the channel. This can be difficult in some locations do to the distance between markers requiring not only those ahead for alignment, but those astern as well. Having “Ops Tested” the results of being caught along the edge, I can speak with some authority on the subject.
While transiting some areas of the ICW at low water, I’ve found it extremely uncomfortable to be steaming along with nearly 40,000 pounds of inertia, at 8 knots and a five foot draft; observing a constant two and a half feet water unreeling beneath the keel. With frequent exposure to such an environment, one tends to become less concerned, yet if you consider that a crab pot (of which there are many within this region) discarded in the ICW, that should land on its side is sufficient to present an obstruction.
The traffic within the ICW in many respects is like a marine freeway in a large city at rush hour, that has become a Catch 22. As a result of speed restrictions that read: “Manatee Area 30 MPH in Channel, Slow Minimum Wake Outside ICW,” everything that is propelled by power or having any sort of draft, is fighting for sea room. Scarabs, Donzi’s, Off Shore Racers, Large Motor Yachts, Sailboats, even Swamp Buggies, and of course, Tugs, all share the same narrow waterway. (To be continued )
Capt Bob |11:02 EST |Comments (0)
Travels with Roland Continued:
As the Sea Buoy is left astern, and the course locked into the autopilot, I plot a DR track across the chart to the entrance of the Anclote River (also called the Tarpon River)
Spaced at one-hour intervals, they measure an inch and a quarter apart, and are so numerous, that the passage of each one already appears long and insignificant. As the sport fishermen fade astern, the 38 feet of boat about me seems to shrink as I am left with the ocean to myself.
All that lies ahead however, is not unrestricted open Blue Ocean. As a result of an air-to-air gunnery range, maintained by Tyndall Air Force Base, near Panama City, live ordnance firings upon target drone aircraft occur day and night within a charted Warning Area to the Southeast. Unmanned radar towers used for triangulation are located thru out this region of the gulf, making it an area that you do not wish to blunder into for obvious reasons.
As the trip wears on, one soon learns that staring at the GPS mileage, and time to the next waypoint can become very depressing, when over one hundred miles remain. Much like watching the odometer of a car lining up zeros when it nears the one hundred thousand mile point, it becomes a big event when the mileage of your GPS finally drops the third digit. This then breaks down further, with the passage of each multiple of 10 until that is all that remains. Staring at the depth indicator also becomes a mesmerizing event, as the bottom rolls past in a nondescript uniform 60 feet of water, while over 40 miles off shore. Plotting an electronic fix, inspecting the weather decks, listening to the current weather forecast, tapping the barometer, and checking the bilge, suddenly becomes an hourly ritual. The rest of the time is spent staring at the horizon and wondering about the last time you did such things as; changed fuel filters, serviced the hydraulic steering, checked torque on the shaft coupling, greased the rudder post, and a thousand other items which you wish to have given more attention to. The slightest change in engine resonance or drift in RPM suddenly brings any daydreaming to an abrupt halt, and establishes a more frequent scan of the instrument panel. The presence of Dolphins, that are a pleasure to observe anytime, suddenly scare the hell out of you, when a shape, out of the corner of your eye, breaks the water having a large FIN.
With sunset, darkness falls like a certain, and the vessel about me, seems to shrink even further. Plunging into the darkness ahead brings visions only weeks old, of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, littered with items large enough to not only stop a propeller, but sink the vessel to which it is attached.
A revised weather forecast, now calls for winds of 20-25 knots, backing to the NE after midnight, seas 4-6 feet. This direction is exactly what I have had the greatest concern, do to Restless’s displacement hull and roll characteristics. The term, “after midnight” imparts a rather vague prediction, and I soon convince myself that I will be tied to the dock by the time it takes affect.
When not passing the time looking forward, I attempt to breakup the boredom of cruising at 8 knots, by standing in the after companionway, and gazing at the constellations overhead. There is a great deal of airline traffic in the eastern sky, and I find myself recalling the many hours spent in the cockpit of an airliner for over 29 years as a pilot for NWA. Having just past the 8-hour point in time remaining to destination, the snails pace of this voyage is made more acute, when I consider that 8 hours and some odd minutes was the flying time from Detroit to Amsterdam in my previous occupation.
The forecasted increase, and backing of wind direction comes earlier than midnight, and the ride steadily erodes. To have gyrostabilizers in such conditions would be a pleasure. The benefit of a steadying sail, certainly an improvement, and a helm seat anchored to the deck to replace the stool, which causes me to be constantly “Launched,” across the wheelhouse even better. I finally submit to the futility of its usage, and either stand, or sit on the pilot berth. In time, the inability to secure this seat, becomes an obstacle in the darkness, and with its constant banging about the wheelhouse, I jettison it overboard.
During one of my many occasions spent standing in the companionway, looking aft, I observe the western sky briefly illuminated in an orange glow, from a rippling light. High above, a jet fighter is launching a practice missile attack upon an unmanned drone. Observing such a demonstration, gives new meaning to the charted notation; “Warning Area,” for this section of ocean. Near midnight, the port navigation light is observed extinguished, and I spend but a moment, considering the alternatives. To venture upon the weather deck of the wheelhouse, in such rolling conditions to re-lamp while alone, is very much an unnecessary risk. Having not observed another vessel for the past 14 hours only reinforces this decision.
Arriving at the Anclote River entrance at 0315, the value of GPS interfaced with a chart plotter, proves its worth tenfold. The ability to pilot on expanded scale, thru an area that is foreign, being fatigued, and at night while channel markers suddenly loom out of the darkness close aboard, instills a greater appreciation for its capabilities.
With the emergence of the first large marina on the north shore of the river, I turn into the staked private channel with the intent of securing, and getting some much needed rest.
With minimal power for steerage, I soon find myself slowly brought to a stop in the silt bottom, 10 feet short of the dock! Welcome to the grand expanse of Florida surface water.
Capt Bob |08:51 EST |Comments (0)
Travels With Roland (Tug Restless) Part 4
The arrival at Mobile the morning of Nov.9th, brings a feeling of closer to the first section of the voyage. The city is very much a working port, and it is easy to find yourself Gunkholeing about the harbor. Mobile Bay is huge, and like the rest of the southern coast of the USA, you soon come to realize that although there is a lot of surface water to be observed, little exists beneath it.
Turning off the main channel between markers #63 & 65, I enter the approach to Dog River. Being alone for this section of the trip, I am spread a bit thin, and am aft preparing lines and fenders for my intended docking, while the boat is on autopilot thru a rather narrow channel marked by day markers. Be it from a magnet anomaly, sloppy autopilot, or my lack of attention, Restless takes a slight departure from the channel line while my attention is diverted elsewhere. The initial indication, of something being amiss, comes in the form of noting a slight vibration in the deck beneath my feet, followed by the muck churned up wake astern, and a reduction in speed. Running forward into the wheelhouse, I cob the power, and dig myself a channel while steering back into the waterway. Being of a silt bottom, the only damage done is to my ego.
The Intracoastal Waterway, between Mobile and Apalachicola, in many respects is a view of Old Florida. The canal, which is little more than a ditch for the majority of the distance, has a Swannee River mood about it. This relaxed atmosphere and lack marine traffic however, can be readily shattered should you have the misfortune of meeting a tug and barge traveling in the opposite direction.
Departure from Ft. Walton Florida the morning of Nov. 21st occurs with the weather, sunny and cool with a stiff wind from the north. The crossing of Choctawhatchee Bay is sloppy with an abeam sea, and entering the protection of the canal at Point Washington is a welcome relief. A feeling of chugging along thru the Dark Continent aboard the African Queen develops from the uninhabited and undeveloped shores. This euphoria suddenly comes to an abrupt halt, with rounding a bend, and finding myself in the path of several hundred feet of tug and barge headed in the opposite direction. There can be no relief expected from the skipper of the tug in this situation, as he very much has his hands full enough without the addition of a passing situation. Any attempt to pass close abeam by skirting the edge of the canal as much as possible, is a certain invitation for running aground, and should that occur, the tug’s wash would leave me further high and dry on a muck bank. While the thought runs thru my head initially, of doing a hard one eighty to buy time, and seek a possible wider section of the canal astern, the idea of coming about directly before all that is presently filling the forward facing glass of the wheelhouse seems an invitation to a far greater nightmare.
To become the smallest target possible, I spin the wheel over hard to starboard and ring up stop. Surprisingly the shore has an abrupt slope and the silt bottom is not only forgiving, but slowly grabs the hull, pulling it to a halt with only a minor lurch. Pointed 90 degrees to the shore with the bow high and dry, the tugs captain blows me a salute for my efforts and passes close astern. I am well into reverse even before his wash reaches my transom, and just now come to realize that the tide is on the ebb and that I could be here for a long time. While my location in the wheelhouse prevents a ringside seat to what is occurring aft, I can easily guess what is taking place below the surface with a 36” five bladed prop in full reverse. Initially nothing is felt, and then with the benefit of several waves lifting from the passing tug, she kegs off.
The run between Apalachicola and Tarpon Springs, Florida is the longest stretch of open water on the circuit of the Great Loop. Everyone who has made this journey seems to have a tale to tell of it. Shorter segments of this area are possible around the upper pan- handle of Florida, however they are pretty much limited to drafts of less than 4 feet. The charts and cruising guides will tell you different, however, I’ve spoken with many a cruiser who believed them, and paid the price in dollars for the haul out and prop job that followed. Cedar Key is a likely choice for reducing this distance; however the distance one must travel northeast from the sea buoy is somewhat counterproductive, unless you really have the desire to go there.
Two schools of thought exist regarding the time of day to depart from Apalachicola Bay. The first recommends a departure in the evening, in order to arrive in the Clearwater area during daylight. The second; suggests departing early morning, with a night arrival, for the purpose of reducing night travel and the strain of an out of cycle body clock.
Arriving at Apalachicola the evening of Nov.23rd, my initial plans are to spend several days there before proceeding to Tarpon Springs. After listening to a favorable weather forecast for the next 48 hours of: Sunny, wind east 10-15 knots, seas 1-3 feet, the decision to proceed early the next morning is made upon what is perceived as that, “Weather Window,” everyone seeks. Although transit thru, Government Cut appears the shortest and obvious departure thru the barrier islands, local advise suggests East Pass to the ENE, do to constant shoaling near the entrance of the channel. Whether this advice is well intended or a result of kick backs from the local boatyard and prop shop, is a gamble in itself. After further scrutiny of the chart however, the East Pass, south of Carrabelle appears to offer less risk and worth the additional mileage.
Being alone, I opt for the early morning departure. The approximate 21hour transit is taxing enough to do single handed, let alone the punis hment of trying to stay awake. (Conculsion Later)
Capt Bob |11:18 EST |Comments (0)
Continued Travels with Capt Schultz (Tug Restless)
After a very miserable night spent on the Mississippi River at Cape Girardeau Mo., the following morning dawns clear and bright. As a result of the past 24 hours having been near continuous rain, the river is running fast with an exceptional amount of flotsam and jetsam. Buoys act as snares for branches, logs and even whole trees. The initial entanglement, acting as a Tar Baby for additional debris to become ensnared upon,
resulting in a massive collection that eventually hides the presence of the entire navigational aid.
Nearing Cairo, where the Ohio River joins the Mississippi, the river makes a great snake like bend, which swings a full 180 degrees to the north, before resuming its natural course to the gulf. Here again, the town’s riverfront resembles a walled city from a medieval era. The enemy here however, is a powerful river, rather than an attacking army.
When Webster was initially compiling his dictionary, I believe that he visited the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, for the purpose of obtaining a definition to the words; Flotsam and Jetsam. Upon the lakes, and the ocean, we tend to view their meaning by usage of a different standard. While having spent a lifetime on the water, nothing prepared me, for the floating junkyard, which greeted me on the Ohio River upstream of Cairo the morning of the 28th of October.
Steering soon grows tiresome, as progress up bound is reduced to a series of constant sharp zig-zags in order to avoid the debris that litters the river. That which is observed as a small branch, requires a wide berth like that of an iceberg, do to what remains attached, and obscured beneath the surface. Whole trees become a common sight, and in time, are given little attention, since they readily present themselves for what they are.
As a result of the recent heavy rains to the area, and the river running high, locks # 52 & 53 are closed, allowing them to be bypassed. Abeam their positions however, are areas of virtual rapids and whirlpools. Within minutes of entering this area of torrent water abeam Lock #53, a loud Clunk is heard below, and looking astern, I observe a log leap from the water like a nuclear submarine making an emergency blow. In spite of my vigilance, the proverbial deadhead has found its target.
Do to lack of a marina, or any mooring facilities along this section of the Ohio River, the night is spent swinging on the hook, at Metropolis in the lee of a floating Casino Barge. With sunrise the following morning, the attack of the river resumes at 0635. Although a beautiful day, the glare upon the water, as a result of the low angle of the sun, makes avoidance of floating hazards all that more difficult. More than once, I am lucky to have missed that which I did not see until it would have been too late to avoid.
After the confines of the rivers, locking thru Kentucky Lake Dam is a welcome relief. Marinas are plentiful, with more than adequate facilities available, and the water again resembles a clear, fluid like substance that is capable of supporting life. Boats that are in transit, doing the “Loop,” are readily recognized by the wash down that takes place shortly after their arrival, to rid themselves of the dirt that has collected from pushing thru the Illinois, Mississippi and Ohio Rivers.
Kentucky Lake provides interesting and excellent cruising. A result of the dam which bears its name, and the actions of Army Corp of Engineers, and the TVA, in the 1950s, it is not unusual yet today, to view buildings and structures that poke thru its surface like minute islands.
Entering the Tombigbee Waterway, Nov.3rd, is very much like transiting a canal thru a private preserve. The initial 25 miles are located in an uninhabited shallow valley, which is semi forested, and having a shoreline that is lined with broken stone. Later this will change to high slate shores, sand bluffs, low shoreline, and lastly bayou. Like many stretches of the in land rivers, facilities and marinas can become few and far between. Marinas as you might know them to be called on the lakes, tend to have a different meaning here. Various guides that are published for transiting this section of the Loop tend to exaggerate what is actually available. While a Go Fast, can travel sufficient distance in daylight to ensure spending the night tied to a dock, a trawler or sailboat should plan on spending several nights swinging on the hook for lack of anything within range.
The night of Nov 7th, is spent back in the bayou of the river, at mile marker 145, out of the channel as much as possible, with fore and aft anchors down. The need of 2 anchors, more for reducing swing, than worry of current. By this point of the voyage, having your boat illuminated at all hours of the night by 100,000 candle power twin searchlights is no longer unusual or alarming, as tug and barge traffic here too, runs on a 24 hour schedule.
With the approach of sunset on Nov. 8th, I anchor at the fork of the Tombigbee and Alabama Rivers, between the up river shore and the junction marker at Mile #145. It is my reasoning, that this location provides deep water, safe clearance from barge traffic and some protection from the current of both rivers that are located off either beam.
In general, I have very poor sleep patterns, and tend to be a very light sleeper. When swinging on the hook in a river having a significant current however, that sleep pattern tends to erode even further. In the wee hours of the morning, my dozing is interrupted by of the sound a loud thud against the hull, followed by intermittent scraping which proceeds aft, down the starboard side of the hull. In a flash, I am out of my bunk, searching for a club to rebel boarders. Creeping out into the wheelhouse, with flashlight in hand, I illuminate the forward deck area and the swamp like shoreline beyond, as well as the weather deck aft. All appears as it should, and with an absence of bloodthirsty pirates. Finally gaining the nerve to unlock the companionway way door, and venture outside, I finally illuminate a tree floating astern in the current, which had made my boat its target.
(To Be Continued)
Capt Bob |22:42 EST |Comments (0)
Travels With Roland (Tug Restless)
We pick up our story with Restless tied up to a barge in the river and Roland is about tp settle in for the night. All of a sudden he is bathed in the spotlight of a tug and a deck hand appears on the bow of the tug and shouts out to him “You can’t remain here, you’ll be crushed!” Roland explains to him why he is there. With hand held radio in his possession, he relays this information to the bridge of the tug. After some discussion between the two of them, he yells across: “They’re calling Dispatch about it, we’ll be back later!”
Thirty minutes later they get back to me and tell me I have to move on and direct me to an anchorage. Anchoring will certainly have the hull doing dangles and jangles throughout the night, created by the various eddies. Anchoring here will also make for a very long night, as the need for an anchor watch is a must. To depend upon a Radar Alarm would be a joke under such conditions. I resume a slow advance upstream. Without the benefit of the lights from the city of Cape Girardeau and the bridge spanning the river for orientation, I probably would have been aground long ago. Other than to seek out another barge for a mooring, I feel that I have only two other options. Either hold position with power, at a know position such as beneath the bridge, or await a tug and barge headed down stream, and fall in trail. To attempt such a transit on my own, with a 34 volt searchlight of course being akin to holding a candle in the dark Upstream from the barge which I had been evicted from earlier, are 2 barges anchored in the river near the Missouri shore. Further upstream maybe 800’from these, are several other barges anchored as well. The thought comes to mind, that if I were to get behind the barges anchored in the river, I could moor alongside of a barge which appears to be beached on the Missouri shore. In so doing, hide from the tug which is been making my life miserable.
The plan soon comes off without a hitch, and I snug down for the night. Foul weather
gear are hung in the locker. Wet clothes are shed, and I even relax by taking a hot shower. The time now is 12:20 AM. As I survey things one last time from the wheelhouse before retiring to my bunk below, I observe the activity of my friendly tug, headed up river, and sweeping the bank with his Midnight Sun. I pause to watch further, wondering if my camouflage will be sufficient for him to go by unnoticed. His beam passes by me initially, then swings aft of my position, where it remains for sometime, before being trained directly on me, where it remains. Like a U-Boat caught in the middle of a convoy, I feel targeted.
This time I hail him by radio, to convey my intent of having no plans to swing on a hook, at the location he has directed. He informs me that the barge I am secured to, will probably be moved before morning, and directs me to a small orange painted barge, which is secured to the shore beneath a high scaffold downstream of the log boom. He cautions me that the barge is littered with cables and steamboat jacks and having few points to secure to. He also stresses, that I be gone by morning.
Locating and securing to the directed barge is uneventful. The rain has now finally stopped, and the wind has died to a near calm. It is now 1:25 AM and I am done for the night.
The following sunrise, brings a beautiful morning, with a river that is incredibly littered with debris created from the previous rain. Coming on deck, I survey the tank barge to which I am moored. It is secured to a scaffolding at the rivers edge which rises above to the top of the bank. Four platforms are connected by stairs, which are strewn with a collection of branches, logs, and even trees, that make it an impassable climb.
It is a frightening observation of the power and fluctuation which occurs on the Mississippi River.
Capt Bob |17:01 EST |Comments (0)
HAPPY 2007
It's the new year and only 8 months away from our 5th annual Parry Sound Tugfest Aug 24th, 25th. The Great Tug Race Sault Ste Marie will be on the July 1st weekend. Steve Briggs is working on a special event to commerate the 150th anniversary of the Port of Owen Sound, featuring Russel tugs. You can see this event on Steel Craft Russel Bros Tugs by Steve Briggs on our links. We will continue the "travels with Roland" feature on Tug Restless. This feature has generated a lot of interest, and Capt Roland is very entertaining with his journals. I would like to take a moment to thank you for supporting our event as well as the Sault Ste Marie event over the past year. We do it for the love of tugs and in doing so we support the Shriners Hospitals through the Waubono Shrine Club of Parry Sound & Challenged Children for Sault Ste Marie. We have had over 16,000 hits on this site from all over the world. In this new year I will feature some of our friends from overseas and share their interest with you. To date we have 138 members on the tugfest site with 47 tug owners. Thanks for your interest. On behalf of the tugfest group, again thank you for your support and for the love of tugs. Have a great year Capt Bob (tugfest.net)
Capt Bob |13:18 EST |Comments (0)
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