Quiet waters
Mileage yesterday, 58. That may not seem like much for a boat that can cruise at 22-24 mph, but I spent a lot of time at 7 mph. Plus three locks, plus a long wait at the last one, New Cumberland.
Just downstream from the lock, but tied up at Misty River Marina. I liked the name. The location was perfect and I was hungry. It is a summertime bar, overlooking the river. Not a place that would be heated in the winter. No screens. Beautiful view of the river.
I said on the barstool next to Karen, who was next to her friend Mike. She immediately wanted to know my business. I like that! I reported Day One and plans. Dinner was a hamburger and the regional beer, Yuengling. Yuengling claims to be the oldest brewery in the US, dating back to 1827.
Karen and Mike were fine company, and when I went to pay, Mike insisted on paying instead. They said I should recommend Misty River, and I do.
My vision for the day was to find an island where I could throw my grapple on the beach, and an anchor off the bow. A few miles down from Misty River I dropped the hook at the downstream end of Brown Island, near Weirton West Virginia. The bottom was soft mud, the air still. Just the anchor sufficed. Through the night, the river was so still I could have been sleeping on land. Not even the slurpy sound of tiny waves on the hull. In the morning, the river looked like a pond. I pulled the anchor and floated downstream while cooking oatmeal and coffee. The river was mine.
Refilling gas remains unsure. I have not seen a single marina that sells gas. But I have three portable tanks in addition to 38 gallons installed. And a small portable hand truck. So I have the option of going shore if needed. The town of Wellsburg West Virginia provided a dock, and Apple Maps showed me a gas station maybe 8 blocks away. Like many river towns Wellsburg has houses from a more prosperous era, whenever that was. Maybe 100 maybe 150 years ago. Wellsburg also has both a Dollar Tree and Dollar General on the main street. That may be a signature of decline, or perhaps they have bottomed out.
I recently passed what is known as the Shell Cracker. That was a name bound to confuse. This is a
facility where Shell Oil is investing barge loads of money. People back in Pittsburgh were telling me about it. If you think about how cracker rhymes with fracker, you’re on the right track. By another name this appears to be a refinery. Folks see this as good news going into the future. But of course, they see coal as the present. Most of the many barges on the river at this point Are full of coal. I
passed a huge Cardinal power plant with cold barges on their wharf. Coal, barges and electricity have a long history here. I read that Pennsylvania is 42nd among States in renewable energy. Renewable is only 4.3%. Excluding hydro states, Iowa is 9th, producing twice what Pennsylvania produces from all sources, solely by wind power, making up 39% of all power generated. While this description seems like digression, it is partly the story of the river. This region is chained to the past, culturally and economically. And technologically too, thinking of the locks. Lock construction was pretty well figured out in the 1700s. The main change has been opening the gates with electric hydraulic power. Originally gates were opened with human power, then with hydraulic power generated by the dam itself, requiring no outside energy. I like the idea of that however the Army
Corps of Engineers would argue that electricity is more dependable than mechanical power generation. That is likely to be true, given the debris that flows down the river. Predictable reliability is part of their mission. At the moment I am writing this while waiting an hour for another maintenance project. It’s a good chance to write, and I’m glad not to be waiting for days.
Lock still closed. More economic speculation. Passing the many shuttered and decaying heavy industrial plants, it occurs to me that part of the failure of these plants was that management built something a long time ago, and did not modernize. Harvard business school was teaching smart youngsters to strip assets until almost bankrupt industries were in fact bankrupt. Because of the failure to invest, The fate of these heavy industries was sealed. Their customers taken easily by foreign competition. Here on the river, the big empty factories will long be a monument to short term planning.
This being stuck in the past is a large reason why this river travel is attractive to me. With inferential names and different craft, Huck and Tom can still make it down the river, almost unseen.
Speaking of locks, here’s a bit more history. In the 1800s, given the large scale of the United States, the citizens were ready for new forms of transport. The Erie canal was completed in 1825. Only a couple of years later, the ambitious Ohio and Erie Canal opened. I had mistakenly thought this canal was never completed. On my way last week through Ohio, spending the night at Akron, I met a man who knew the canal history. We were talking, as he explained, in Summit County, the highest point between the two bodies of water. He pointed to the Portage Lakes, which the Indians used for that purpose. The canal engineers used the lakes, after damming to increase their volume, to provide water for the locks, north and south. The canal had 152 locks. The Erie canal had only 36. Miles: C&E, 308. Erie, 363. Maybe the biggest difference was the great song connected
to the Erie Canal. The C&E is mostly forgotten. On my way across the southeastern corner of
Akron, I drove over the canal. I would have stopped but there was no returning from the next exit. Here is some description of the tasks of building a canal, according to Wiki:
“ Contracts were let for the following tasks:
Grubbing and clearing, Mucking and ditching, Embankment and excavation, Locks and culverts, Puddling and Protection.”
Pile Island Lock:
Old Lock #13 (now replaced):
I stopped at the municipal dock in Wheeling for lunch. Here were some historical plaques.
G
Just downstream from the lock, but tied up at Misty River Marina. I liked the name. The location was perfect and I was hungry. It is a summertime bar, overlooking the river. Not a place that would be heated in the winter. No screens. Beautiful view of the river.
I said on the barstool next to Karen, who was next to her friend Mike. She immediately wanted to know my business. I like that! I reported Day One and plans. Dinner was a hamburger and the regional beer, Yuengling. Yuengling claims to be the oldest brewery in the US, dating back to 1827.
Karen and Mike were fine company, and when I went to pay, Mike insisted on paying instead. They said I should recommend Misty River, and I do.
My vision for the day was to find an island where I could throw my grapple on the beach, and an anchor off the bow. A few miles down from Misty River I dropped the hook at the downstream end of Brown Island, near Weirton West Virginia. The bottom was soft mud, the air still. Just the anchor sufficed. Through the night, the river was so still I could have been sleeping on land. Not even the slurpy sound of tiny waves on the hull. In the morning, the river looked like a pond. I pulled the anchor and floated downstream while cooking oatmeal and coffee. The river was mine.
Refilling gas remains unsure. I have not seen a single marina that sells gas. But I have three portable tanks in addition to 38 gallons installed. And a small portable hand truck. So I have the option of going shore if needed. The town of Wellsburg West Virginia provided a dock, and Apple Maps showed me a gas station maybe 8 blocks away. Like many river towns Wellsburg has houses from a more prosperous era, whenever that was. Maybe 100 maybe 150 years ago. Wellsburg also has both a Dollar Tree and Dollar General on the main street. That may be a signature of decline, or perhaps they have bottomed out.
I recently passed what is known as the Shell Cracker. That was a name bound to confuse. This is a
facility where Shell Oil is investing barge loads of money. People back in Pittsburgh were telling me about it. If you think about how cracker rhymes with fracker, you’re on the right track. By another name this appears to be a refinery. Folks see this as good news going into the future. But of course, they see coal as the present. Most of the many barges on the river at this point Are full of coal. I
passed a huge Cardinal power plant with cold barges on their wharf. Coal, barges and electricity have a long history here. I read that Pennsylvania is 42nd among States in renewable energy. Renewable is only 4.3%. Excluding hydro states, Iowa is 9th, producing twice what Pennsylvania produces from all sources, solely by wind power, making up 39% of all power generated. While this description seems like digression, it is partly the story of the river. This region is chained to the past, culturally and economically. And technologically too, thinking of the locks. Lock construction was pretty well figured out in the 1700s. The main change has been opening the gates with electric hydraulic power. Originally gates were opened with human power, then with hydraulic power generated by the dam itself, requiring no outside energy. I like the idea of that however the Army
Corps of Engineers would argue that electricity is more dependable than mechanical power generation. That is likely to be true, given the debris that flows down the river. Predictable reliability is part of their mission. At the moment I am writing this while waiting an hour for another maintenance project. It’s a good chance to write, and I’m glad not to be waiting for days.
Lock still closed. More economic speculation. Passing the many shuttered and decaying heavy industrial plants, it occurs to me that part of the failure of these plants was that management built something a long time ago, and did not modernize. Harvard business school was teaching smart youngsters to strip assets until almost bankrupt industries were in fact bankrupt. Because of the failure to invest, The fate of these heavy industries was sealed. Their customers taken easily by foreign competition. Here on the river, the big empty factories will long be a monument to short term planning.
This being stuck in the past is a large reason why this river travel is attractive to me. With inferential names and different craft, Huck and Tom can still make it down the river, almost unseen.
Speaking of locks, here’s a bit more history. In the 1800s, given the large scale of the United States, the citizens were ready for new forms of transport. The Erie canal was completed in 1825. Only a couple of years later, the ambitious Ohio and Erie Canal opened. I had mistakenly thought this canal was never completed. On my way last week through Ohio, spending the night at Akron, I met a man who knew the canal history. We were talking, as he explained, in Summit County, the highest point between the two bodies of water. He pointed to the Portage Lakes, which the Indians used for that purpose. The canal engineers used the lakes, after damming to increase their volume, to provide water for the locks, north and south. The canal had 152 locks. The Erie canal had only 36. Miles: C&E, 308. Erie, 363. Maybe the biggest difference was the great song connected
to the Erie Canal. The C&E is mostly forgotten. On my way across the southeastern corner of
Akron, I drove over the canal. I would have stopped but there was no returning from the next exit. Here is some description of the tasks of building a canal, according to Wiki:
“ Contracts were let for the following tasks:
Grubbing and clearing, Mucking and ditching, Embankment and excavation, Locks and culverts, Puddling and Protection.”
Pile Island Lock:
Old Lock #13 (now replaced):
G
George Rogers Clark is a big figure in early Ohio River history.
He was the father of Wm Clark, both Lewis and Clark. I don’t know anything about Major McCulloch. The plaque raises more questions than answers. How did he survive a 300 foot jump? Here’s an account:
“He now found himself surrounded, with no path of escape. He knew, because of his reputation and history against the Indians, he would be tortured and killed with great cruelty if he were to be captured alive. With all avenues of escape cut off, he turned and faced the precipice, and with the bridle in his left hand and his rifle in his right, he spurred his horse over the edge to an almost certain death. The hill at that location is about 300 feet in height, and in many places is almost perpendicular.
The Indians rushed to the edge, expecting to see the major lying dead in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the hill. To their great surprise, they instead saw McColloch, still mounted on his white horse, galloping away from them.”
Has to be true. I read it on Wikipedia.
Five years later, the Indians finally did catch him.
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