Life moves too fast to document...

August 11

French Island No. 2

Mile 769

From yesterday morning:

As I started the sun was rising at 7:00.  The location, in southern Indiana, is near the end of the time zone. Which divides the state. Now ten miles later to the Southwest, the sun had risen at 6:00. Either way it was a quiet sunrise, with low mist on the water, a light breeze and scattered clouds. I hear crows. A cow mooed. The early morning fishermen in bass boats and jon boats were drifting silently. 

 The River always wins. I can picture a future time when human dominance will decline or end, when the river eventually breeches the dams, flushing the pollution and empty water bottles to the oceans.

Humans along this river have an uneasy relationship in some ways. When waters are quiet, the non-swimmers fear drowning in it. When it floods, as it does every spring and sometimes fall, people abandon their faith in the Army Corp of Engineers, the “River Tamers”, and head for high ground. 

All along the river I have seen evidence of flood damage. In Louisville, a big hunk of tree decorated the top of a bridge pier. Houses are built high on the bank, but even so, first floors flood. I had dinner last night in a VFW that flooded this year. 

In front of houses presumably above flood level the banks were scoured this year. People cut trees for a good river view. Where there are trees and brush, the soils hold, better, to a degree. Every flood, the land owners pour in new crushed rock which will wash away a year later, a stone sacrifice to the river gods.

Mostly, the river is a blessing, and people who live next to it appreciate that. For me, it gently bears my vessel, and generously gives me a bonus half mile for every hour I travel.

I’ve been stopping at more towns as time goes by. Here downstream of Louisville, the towns are more spread out. Yesterday Brandenburg was a stop. The Grind provided a great sandwich. In their park I learned a little Civil War history, at least from the left shore. Louisville had a statue from 1897 commemorating Confederate war dead. Seventy feet tall, as I recall. Folks in Louisville protested to have it removed, and then Brandenburg welcomed it. And so it now stands. Some plaques protest Yankee history, making the case... well, I’ll copy a plaque here. 

Cloverdale had very little to offer the traveler, except for some early history, covered with bird droppings. 

I was in Henderson KY today, the town where Audubon got his start. 

A great town will personalize its manhole covers. 

Third stop of the day Mount Vernon IN. This is a town with a lot of empty store fronts, but magnificent public buildings. Here is the courthouse:

Many of the small towns have courthouses, as the river towns in the past were the most prominent places. I spoke to a town policeman who told me the principal crime involves drugs. Here meth is the main drug. He looked like the sadness of it weighed on him.

Much of my trip doesn’t get written about, partly because too much happens to quickly. Part because by the end of a bright sunny 90° day my brain is cooked. And partly I don’t write of some conversations, which seem to private and self revealing. It is not for me to publicize what people tell me. Or give details about the father and son I had breakfast with, who enabled me to have a hotel shower for free. Management doesn’t need to know. My gratitude was profound. 

There are lots of good and friendly people along this river. I have experienced much warmth of human kindness. 

Today I’m writing this from the modern and well used Mt Vernon IN library. The heat was getting to me, so I sought air conditioned refuge here. If this town gets one thing right, it’s library. And a good landing.
And more. I passed the Eagles Lodge on the way to the boat, after giving up on food options. A bunch of rowdy men and women on the porch were cradling beers and laughing. I asked if I could get some supper there. A member vouched for me. I had a beer too, later discovering the bartender bough it for me, to stay legal. It was a happy, friendly bunch I found myself with. One guy said, “We’re all a bunch of nuts here.” I said, “I qualify for going down the river.”  A woman said, “no, you’re the only sane one, to go down the river.”

Back on the water, I passed Slim Island. It’s the fatter one.