“Tow!” Via texts, phone calls and hallways the cry ricochets
throughout our condo building situated alongside the Mississippi River in
Winona MN. After watching the river freeze over then slowly open her veins again
in the spring, the sight of that first towboat causes quite a flurry of
excitement.
The joy of the towboats’ return feels almost as if our very
own blood is once again pumping through our winterized and sluggish bodies. Sharing
the joy revs our energies and therefore begets life itself a warmer ride.
It's as if the Hope of All Things Good rushes back when the towboats return--especially this year since COVID-19 lockdown began before they returned. At least something felt normal as they floated on by.
While shopping for a new home for our move to Winona, we
first visited this condo when the towboats were still pushing barges up and
down the river. Sure, the river view enticed and lured us. But when a tow
pushing 15 barges passed by while we were sipping a glass of free champagne during that
initial viewing (15-tow limit on upper Mississippi [3 wide, 5 deep],
but 30-40 barge limit on the lower which is downstream of Cairo IL), the sheer magnitude, grace and humming while softly pulsating
and vibrating sound caused our eyes to
follow the giant river creature upstream.
Yes, going on five years ago, I still remember the
direction of that first sighting from our condo window. That is the power of the river to imprint an aging brain.
In our naivety we referred to the ensemble as “a barge.” In
other words, everything moving together in a grand choreography was known to we
ignorant interlopers as “a barge.” The kind and proper gentlemen who’d served
us champagne quickly gave us a schooling.
The tow is the towboat. The giant containers it pushes (neither
tows nor tugs them but pushes) are the barges. One may refer to that particular
ensemble as a 15-barge tow. To state anything otherwise is indisputable proof
you are not OF or FROM anywhere near the big river.
Since husband George and I were both born and raised in the
suburbs of Chicago, we took our corrective medicine (while continuing to sip
champagne) and are now the fine deliverers of same education when out-of-town company
arrives and makes that same misguided verbal utterance. There is no letting
their faux pas quietly pass. Nope. They need to KNOW. We shall pour them
anything in our booze cabinet while doing so.
Egregious verbal missteps grow to feel
disrespectful to the Old Man himself when people don’t get these things correct about his vital and muddy life. We are a
protective lot, as it turns out. Speak river talk or watch him roll along in
silence. Please. (We are, after all, Minnesota nice here.)
When we moved in, the river was pretty well done with
traffic for winter 2015/16. Fish houses,
whether wood-structure fancy, portable or tent-like, dotted the white of winter. And of course there are those hearty souls who bundle up and park their behinds on buckets right out in the elements, shelters be darned. The beauty of the frozen river surrounded by the luscious curves of Her Wintership’s bluffs continues to render majesty as the howling winter winds cause snow to ski downriver atop the ice. There is that mysterious time of winter and dusk when the sky and snow and ice and land all turn that same certain moody shade of blue … Ahhh. Oneness.
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| Brave Souls |
whether wood-structure fancy, portable or tent-like, dotted the white of winter. And of course there are those hearty souls who bundle up and park their behinds on buckets right out in the elements, shelters be darned. The beauty of the frozen river surrounded by the luscious curves of Her Wintership’s bluffs continues to render majesty as the howling winter winds cause snow to ski downriver atop the ice. There is that mysterious time of winter and dusk when the sky and snow and ice and land all turn that same certain moody shade of blue … Ahhh. Oneness.
But after our first winter on the river, then came spring. Fish houses need to be off the rivers and
lakes by March 4 in our parts, a little later further north. The last thing you
or the DNR want is to show up for yet another attempt to land that lunker (or
simply drink a lot of beer) and find your fish house gone, or the ice too thin
to get your truck out there to tow the fish house off. More than one truck has
disappeared through the ice during this endeavor.
Usually by mid-March, openings appear in the river,
luring gathering eagles to their fishing spots and watering holes. As the river
continues to shed its winter skin, ice chunks begin floating by as the river gussies up her sparkles and readies herself for Big Barge Business.
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| So many purposes |
But Mother Nature … well she sometimes casts her own
meddling spells. Here’s a
2018 link to one perspective on those happenings. You'll also find there interesting explanations
about Lake Pepin (upriver from Winona), its vastness freezing deep and long, creating one of
the most difficult and last places on the entire river to open in the spring, enabling the
journey upriver toward the northern headwaters. This year barge traffic/commerce through Winona was held at bay until
into April, due to high risky waters, high enough to keep towboats from handling
their brave chores. Early on they couldn’t even fit under some of the bridges.
Barge commerce. Whew. The first time—and every time
thereafter—we took the Winona Tour Boat ride and heard Captain Aaron Ripinski (a great source for just about anything Winona and a jack of all trades) talk about
the cost of barge transport vs. truck or trains, we were blown away. Every. Single.
Time. Gobsmacked. For a great nutshell visual education,
check out these charts.
The barge/truck/rail visual comparisons are amazing, right down to the Rate of Spills in Gallons per
Million Ton-miles for each. For instance did you know it takes 16 rail cars or 70 large semis to contain the contents of one barge? Yeah, I didn't think so. Check those charts!
[Now that you’ve taken a moment to check the charts, all together now: raise your hands
for river transportation!]
Among the action of skidoos, fishing boats, pontoon boats, house boats
and commercial river boats, a 15-barge tow creeps along the river like the holdover
dinosaurs of the waters. Of course not all towboats are pushing 15, but nonetheless
they are working.
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| Yeomans Pond to the far left, right past the bridge next to our condo. The river bends to the right past the bridge and just before Yeomans. |
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| From our patio |
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| Lots of loading in Yeomans Pond |
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| Up close and personal |
You can always tell empty barges since they ride high in the
water, while full ones need at least nine feet of river depth, which is why
there is endless
dredging on the river. After 4.5 months of staying home to stay safe (oh,
so NEAR the pantry!), I know the feeling.
I found an interesting recap of life on a towboat as well as
keen info about the actual structures here,
along with some terrific photos. I’ve even checked in with a Facebook group called
Mississippi River Photos. Folks up and down the entire length share their river
moments, including a few avid posters who work the river. Their point of view is
breathtaking and informative.
I’m going to sign off for now because I hear that familiar
hum coming our way. Gotta go grab the book, record in our log! I feel there is
more than enough here to get you acquainted. My hope is you start to “feel” the
river in your spirit. She definitely grows on you.
