River World Field Trip, Alton, IL to Lake Charles, LA and back on a working towboat, 1956
October 24, 2015On the shores, draped over the heavy clay, were masses of orange lantana in bloom ,.with armadillos eating something or other above. After sundown I went out on the end of the barges and watched the crescent moon shine over the Waterway, down which the sun had set red and ball-like. Short-billed marsh wrens sang in the marshes, but nothing else called but a myriad of small frogs. White egrets flying in the dusk looked purple and unreal. Stars came out, Venus was huge. It was cold, cold ….
This afternoon the ST.LOUIS ZEPHYR passed us in the Waterway, heading back home — first time I’ve seen her since our trip two years ago, I went out on the barges to take a picture which would include both boats. Crews on both boats came out to wave to each other. …
“Just passed the CAPE ZEPHAH, lit up like the city of N’Awlens, strung out a mile long and goin’ like a house a-fire.”
Our entire tow is nearly a thousand feet long, which must be shoved around the twisting bends, so that often the boat had to stop, angle around, and then head straight again to keep from climbing out on shore. It was a hectic ride which I wouldn’t have missed for anything. The Atchafalaya is unmarked for navigation — no lights, no buoys, no towns, nothing by which we may compare the map with where we are. It was my job, as Co-Pilot of the CAPE ZEPHYR, to compare the map with the radar to keep track of our whereabouts so we wouldn’t shoot down one of the bayous or branches which at night looked just like the river itself. We did it twice, however, and had to back out. I went to bed about 2 a.m. Fog was forming, low over the surface of what looked like a river about as narrow as the Sangamon, all twists and sharp turns. The engineroom-pilothouse bells were ringing all night, those boys downstairs really worked for their pay that night.
Thursday, April 12
At 5:30 when I went out on deck, we were tied up In the fog below Morgan City, near Mile 100 on the Intracoastal Waterway. Birds were singing madly in the shore willows and cypresses, —wrens and cardinals and parula warblers. Shrimp boats and motor launches with men for the oil rigs or bound for Morgan City went scudding past, but Captain Brazie didn’t want to try to advance until the fog had burned off a little. It went in a hurry, once it started. We were on our way at 7 am, past roseaux canes and spider lilies, past yellow senecio and white bindweed, past irises and live oaks and hackberries and palmettos and moss. Down in the Waterway, tugs were dragging barges, which actually fit better around the bends than a tight and immovable set of barges pushed by a towboat. I went out on the end barge after breakfast and luxuriated in the lovely April morning —— warm enough to sit in the sun, none of the Louisiana heat and sticky humidity, a cool breeze — it was perfect, I have never seen the South so kind. The Waterway is narrow enough so that I could hear many things on the nearby shores, and often see them, too. There were white-throated sparrows, bound for Canada, singing alongside, and white-eyed vireoes, cardinals, Carolina wrens, prothonotary warblers, parulas, yellowthroats, Carolina chickadees, redwings, and boat-tailed grackles. Overhead flew Louisiana herons, little blue herons, reddish egrets, American egrets, and green herons. Trees and growth on shore were red bay and irises, cane and cattails. North Bend was an oil station.
At 2:45 p.m. we were in Vermilion Locks, where there were bright calendulas, petunias, roses, larkspur, and ligustrum in bloom. A bright cardinal on the lock wire was singing madly. Then out of the lock. Saw a massive oil rig being hauled manfully by three tugs, the CHIEF, the CHERAMIE, and the JOHNNY. It was quite a job. Water was being pumped into rice fields, which had been plowed with spike-wheeled tractors, and were now being flooded. In wet fields were shovellers and blue-winged teal, egrets, sandpipers, and lots of blackbirds. In drier places were Brahma cattle.