TROOP 100 NEWS:
“NAW WE AINT GOT NO MOTOR” RAFT TRIP
by
Melvin H. McFatter
CHAPTER 1: PLANNING AND CONSTRUCTION
The idea for a raft trip down the Mississippi River originated in the fall of 2004. Scoutmaster, Mel McFatter, and Assistant Scoutmaster, Sam McLemore, were training for the Phatwater Kayak Challenge, the annual paddling race down the Mississippi from Grand Gulf to Natchez. They were paddling in the river for several hours two or three evenings a week so they had plenty of time to think and talk. Mel remembered back in the late 1960’s when he and several of his fraternity brothers at Ole Miss had talked about building a raft and taking it down the Mississippi River. That trip never got beyond the talking stage. Sam confessed that a raft trip down the river had long been a dream of his too. Hoping that others shared the same dream, Sam and Mel began to plan what was initially called The Huckleberry Finn High Adventure Raft Trip.
The Mississippi River is a much under-used recreational resource. Surely the river is dangerous, but fear of the river is disproportionate to the actual perils. The Phatwater race ending in Natchez and the Bluzcruz race ending in Vicksburg have begun to chip away at the irrational fear that taking a non motorized craft on the river is suicidal. Mel and Sam hoped to further allay this irrational fear and bring fear of and respect for the river into perspective with the raft trip.
One goal was to use this high adventure trip as an incentive to strengthen Troop 100. To be eligible to participate Scouts would be required to pass the Scout swim test, to reach the rank of first class, to attend summer camp and to regularly attend troop meetings and outdoor activities.
Another goal was to promote recreational use of the Mississippi River by other Scout troops. If not enough Troop 100 Scouts qualified for the trip, Scouts from other Troops would be recruited to participate. Also, Sam and Mel planned to make themselves and the raft available to other Scout troops for future trips.
The initial consideration regarding the raft was how to make it float. Mel contacted Jeff Knight of the Williford, Gearhart and Knight engineering firm. Jeff’s partner, Greg Gearhart, is a scout leader. Jeff agreed to provide consulting and design services for the project free of charge. Consideration was given to Styrofoam, metal barrels, plastic barrels and aluminum pontoons. Jeff deemed aluminum pontoons the best option due to their durability in the sometimes harsh environment of the river. Jeff did some buoyancy calculations and determined we would need three pontoons.
Sam’s dad, Ken McLemore went on line and located two pontoons, 24 feet long and 19 inches in diameter, on sale for $550 in Sylacauga, Alabama. On January 13, 2005, the Scouts mailed a check for the purchase of the two pontoons. Then came the problem of getting the pontoons to Port Gibson. Bill Case recruited his brother-in-law and sister, Billy and Linda Barlow of Hazelhurst. On March 11, 2005, they drove their truck and trailer to Sylacauga and returned with the pontoons. The round trip of about 750 miles took them 16 hours. Troop 100 partially reimbursed them $200 for their gas and Bill Case paid the remainder. Ken located a third pontoon in Claiborne County. The owner had two 19-inch diameter pontoons, one 20 feet long and the other 16 feet long. Although the pontoons were not a matched pair, the owner would not sell them separately. The Troop purchased both pontoons for $300. Jerry Wade brought his truck and trailer and helped Mel and Sam get these two pontoons to the McLemore’s yard. Flotation had now been acquired at a total cost to the troop of $1,050.
Due to the high cost of aluminum and the strength of steel, Jeff designed the frame of the raft using steel with treated plywood decks. The original plan was for a 24 feet by 8 feet bottom deck with a second deck, 24 feet by 8 feet, 7 feet above the first deck. On May 13, 2005, the steel was purchased from B&O Welding of Brookhaven, Mississippi for $1,547. After the steel was purchased it was decided that the raft as initially designed would be too massive and possibly top heavy. The second deck was reduced to 8 feet by 8 feet and the plywood on the second deck was reduced in thickness from ¾ inch to ½ inch.
At this point Mel became concerned regarding the viability of the trip for this summer due to shortage of both funds and time. The trip was scheduled to begin July 22, 2005. The Scouts’ funds had already been depleted. There was still a substantial amount of materials to be purchased to complete the raft itself and to buy the oars and oarlocks to propel it. Construction of the raft could not begin until the materials had been obtained. Also construction would have to be completed in time to allow proper testing. Jeff had warned that no amount of designing would take the place of actually testing the raft in water to determine its stability and maneuverability.
Mel conducted a fund raising campaign. As always the businesses and people of Port Gibson supported their local Scout troop. Substantial donations were made by Ray John and Rachel Forrest, James and Joan Beesley, the Gage Insurance Agency, the First Presbyterian Church, River Hills Bank, the Owen Montgomery Post of the American Legion, Mississippi Southern Bank, Ken and Peggy McLemore, Jimmy and Jane Person, and Charles Donald Pulpwood, Inc. John Cloy at Port Gibson Lumber and Hardware and Michael Henry at Fastenal in Vicksburg provided the remaining materials at a discount to the Scouts. Powell Hudson also helped out by purchasing the extra pontoon and some of the excess steel.
Then an additional and unexpected problem arose. Jeff’s father, John Knight, had agreed to allow us to use his pontoon boat trailer upon which to construct the raft and haul it to and from the river. Someone made Mr. Knight an offer he couldn’t refuse, and he sold his pontoon boat and trailer. Construction could not begin without a trailer. Jeff Knight contacted Ricky Brown of Mississippi Marine in Brookhaven, and they loaned us and Jeff delivered to Port Gibson a 20 foot dual axle aluminum trailer.
With the financial problems and trailer problems solved, time and labor became the major considerations. Willie and Shirley Daigle donated their shop building behind the old Boren’s Service Station for a construction location. Willie also donated his time, labor, welding rods and fuel in constructing the steel frame. Troop 100 Scouts, Kyle Myers, Chad Myers, Landon Case, Josh McCraine, Raphael Neal, LaSalle Ratliff, and Landon Case, and Troop 100 leaders, Mel McFatter, Sam McLemore, Kevin Hindman and Brian Hindman, along with former Scout, Brad Spencer, and his friend, Daniel Berryhill, painted the steel frame and assisted Willie Daigle in putting it together.
Sam did some research on propulsion, and we decided to use 16 foot whitewater rafting oars. Ten oars were obtained from Johnson Outdoors of Grayling MI for $958 and ten brass oarlocks were purchased from Man of Rubber, Inc. in Tennessee for $157. The oars were plastic, but it would take men of steel to use them.
On Sunday, June 19, 2005, Willie and Shirley Daigle, Ken and Sam McLemore, and Mel McFatter gave the raft its first field test at Lake Claiborne. To everyone’s relief it floated—a little nose-heavy—but it floated. It was stable, and in still water it was reasonably maneuverable. The trailer loaned to us by Mississippi Marine worked well for loading and unloading the raft.
The raft was deposited in the McLemore yard for completion of the wooden portion of the construction. Ken and Sam McLemore, with a little help from Mel and Kevin Hindman, installed the wooden decks, the rails, oarlocks and ladders from the water to the first deck and from the first deck to the second deck. Willie moved the center pontoon forward four feet to compensate for the nose-heaviness the raft had exhibited during the field test.
All labor and equipment was donated. All expenses except $200 of the gas to pick up the pontoons in Alabama were donated. Some material was donated. The cost to Troop 100 of the materials which had to be purchased was a little over $4,000. Approximately one half of that money was raised by the Scouts and the other half was donated by local businesses and citizens.
By Sunday, June 10, 2005, the raft, which had been named “The Compton Millsaps” after the long time former Scoutmaster of Troop 100, was ready for its first test run in the Mississippi River.
CHAPTER 2: THE TEST RUN
[Correction from last week’s episode: The Compton Millsaps was not ready for its test run in the Mississippi River until July 10, 2005, not June 10 as there stated.]
The trip had originally been planned to begin at Vicksburg and end at New Orleans. In late June Mel began to plan the logistics for this trip: where to put in, where to take out, and how to re-supply along the way. Mel had trouble finding a place to take out at New Orleans. He called Sarah Emma Crisler’s husband, John Ruskey in Clarksdale for advice. John knows more about taking non-motorized craft on the Mississippi River than any other person on the planet. John explained that Mel was having trouble finding a take out place in New Orleans because there are none. John also explained that the river below Baton Rouge is less hospitable for the following reasons: 1. There is considerably more commercial traffic. 2. The banks are lined with industries. 3. The air quality is bad, and the water quality is bad. It was John’s opinion that the trip should be moved up river so that the take out would be no lower than St. Francisville, LA. John also recommended the City Park at Helena, AR as the best place to put in on the upper part of the river. John opined that, depending on the current and weather conditions, we might be able to average four miles per hour. Mel took John’s advice and the trip was re routed to begin at Helena, AR and to end at St. Francisville, LA, a distance of 398 miles.
On Sunday, July 10, 2005, Willie and Shirley Daigle towed The Compton Millsaps to the City Front in Vicksburg for its maiden voyage. The crew for this voyage were Mel McFatter, Scoutmaster, Sam McLemore, Assistant Scoutmaster, Brian Hindman, Assistant Scoutmaster, Andy Mixon, a 14 year old Scout from Troop 146 in Oxford, his dad, Walt Mixon, and Cliff Geter, who had organized the Bluzcruz paddling race in Vicksburg. S. C. Thomas, the Scoutmaster for Troop 102 in Vicksburg, met us with his motor boat along with his daughter, Kimberley Thomas, and Lindsey Calon to accompany us on the first part of the voyage. We got a late start and were not out of the Yazoo Canal and into the Mississippi River until 11:00 a. m. By the time we got to the Baxter Wilson plant it was apparent that our craft and crew were managing alright, and S. C. and his companions left us and returned to Vicksburg.
The raft proved itself to be a very stable platform. But the massiveness that contributed to its stability also made it slow and ponderous and limited its maneuverability. This was especially so as three of the crew members, Walt, Cliff and Andy, had no prior experience with rowing. We soon learned to look well ahead and anticipate where we needed to go so that we would have plenty of time to get there.
When there was no wind blowing the raft nearly handled itself. The current kept it in the channel. We encountered no towboat traffic. This left plenty of time for lounging, jumping from the top deck and swimming in the river.
The crew found that when they were rowing a lot of their energy was expended in keeping the 16 foot oars from sliding in the oar locks. Everyone agreed that some sort of stop needed to be added to each oar to hold it in place in the oarlock. As the summer day wore on the crew also recognized the need for canopies fore and aft to increase the shaded area on board.
Near the Togo Island Bend a significant east to west crosswind arose. This ended the lazy float down the river. The crew was required to row almost constantly to keep the raft off the Louisiana bank.
We had hoped to average about four miles per hour. Cliff brought his handheld GPS device, and his calculations showed we were only averaging about three miles per hour. It became apparent that we might not finish the 30 mile trip before dark.
As we reached the northern tip of Middle Ground Island, a line of thunderstorms came across the river from the East. Anyone who believes that encountering a thunderstorm on the Mississippi River is not frightening has never experienced that phenomenon. First came the wind. It blew hard kicking up white capping waves that made the river look more like the Gulf of Mexico and that made any further efforts at rowing futile. Then came the thunder and lightning, booming and flashing all around us. Finally came the rain, cold and hard and blown sideways in stinging sheets by the gusting winds. Visibility was reduced to only a few feet. We were in the channel. Cliff voiced concern about not being able to see approaching towboats. Sam reminded us that there had been no boats in sight for several miles in each direction when the storm hit. There would be no danger of a collision unless the storm lasted for a long time.
In less than ten minutes we went from being candidates for a heat stroke to being candidates for hypothermia. The rain was icy cold and the gusting wind made it feel even colder. Soon we were all huddled on the deck of the raft with our teeth chattering and shivering uncontrollably. Sam broke the gloomy silence by asking, “Is anyone cold?” The resulting laughter raised everyone’s spirits. Then Sam and Mel led the rest of the crew in the theme song from Gilligan’s Island, singing with particular gusto during the part where, “…the tiny ship was tossed, and if not for the courage of the fearless crew, The Minnow would be lost…” Mel was the only one on board who had brought a rain jacket, but he didn’t put it on. In hindsight Mel was glad that he hadn’t. What he would have gained in comfort would have been greatly outweighed by his loss in popularity among the crew if he had been the only dry and warm person on board.
The thunderstorm ended as quickly as it had begun. The crew eagerly took to the oars to warm up, and The Compton Millsaps crossed the river to the Mississippi side. The sun set, and we made the last two or three miles to the Claiborne County Port at Grand Gulf in darkness, hugging the bank to stay out of the channel and to avoid missing our take out place. Willie and Shirley Daigle were waiting for us at the port with the trailer. We arrived at 9:00 p.m. The 30 mile trip had taken 10 hours.
CHAPTER 3: MORE PLANNING AND THE PERSONNEL SHORTAGE
The test run proved that we could not realistically expect to average more than three miles per hour. We also considered that we would have a maximum of about 12 hours of float time per day, so our maximum estimated distance per day was about 36 miles. On days when we stopped in port to re-supply this time and distance would be reduced considerably. The trip was scheduled to begin July 22 and end not later than Aug. 1—a total of 11 days. We would not be able to travel the 398 miles to St. Francisville in that amount of time. The trip was again revised to begin at Helena, AR and to end at Natchez, Ms—a distance of 300 miles.
Mel contacted LTJG Melissa Owens, the Officer in Charge of the Marine Safety Office Prevention Department of the U. S. Coast Guard in New Orleans, LA. LTJG Owens suggested that we file a float plan with a responsible organization and with the family members of those on board. That is also required by the Boy Scouts of America, and we assured her it would be done. (The U. S. Coast Guard does not accept float plans.) LTJG Owens suggested we become familiar with the U. S. Coast Guard’s Inland Navigation Rules and bring a copy on board so that we could understand sound signals and light configurations. Mel purchased a hard copy of these rules, reviewed them and assured LTJG Owens he would have the rules on board. LTJG Owens suggested that we bring a portable VHF marine radio tuned to channel 13 so that we could monitor the towboat communications and communicate ourselves with the towboat captains. We assured her we would. LTJG Owens also put the basic information regarding our craft and trip on the U. S. Coast Guard’s Local Notice to Mariners, so the towboat captains would be aware of us. Mel also filed with the Andrew Jackson Council of the Boy Scouts of America a local tour permit application which had a copy of our float plan attached. On June 27, 2005 the Andrew Jackson Council issued Troop 100 a local tour permit. Our trip was now cleared with all necessary authorities.
No one considered Mississippi River water safe to drink even after boiling and filtering. We could carry about 30 gallons of drinking water on the raft. At least three re-supply stops would be necessary to maintain our water supply. As long as we were going to stop for water, we would also refill our ice chests and replenish our perishable food supplies. Re-supply stops were planned at Rosedale (80 miles below Helena), Greenville (47 miles below Rosedale) and Vicksburg (100 miles below Greenville). Mel did not know anyone he could call on to help with re-supply at either Rosedale or Greenville. The Scouts would need someone to meet them at each re-supply port with a pickup or SUV to take them to a grocery store and to a water hydrant to re-fill their water jugs.
John Ruskey had referred Mel to Bill Lester, Chairman of the Art Department at Delta State University in Cleveland. Bill Lester referred Mel to Bob Reed, the Scoutmaster of Troop 402 in Cleveland who works at the Port at Rosedale. Bob agreed to help. The Port at Rosedale would require at least a mile of still water paddling. Bob got us permission to land at Terrene Landing which is directly on the Mississippi River just north of Rosedale. Mel couldn’t tell Bob exactly when the Scouts would arrive at Rosedale, so he and Mel swapped telephone numbers, and Mel promised to call him as soon as they could reasonably estimate their arrival time. Mel then called the Mayor’s Office in Greenville. They referred him to Paul Watson, a Washington County Supervisor and the Vice President of the Chickasaw Council, Boy Scouts of America. Paul set it up for us to call the Washington County Sheriff’s Office when we could reasonably estimate our arrival time, and they would dispatch a Deputy Sheriff and a vehicle to help us. A liaison in Vicksburg would not be necessary, as Sam’s parents, Ken and Peggy would meet us there.
Just when it looked like everything was set another crisis arose. The money problems had been overcome. The time shortage had been dealt with. The planning and logistics had been completed. With less than a week left before the launch in Helena the attrition of personnel began. Ten people were on the crew list, five scouts and five adults. Three of the Scouts were from Troop 100 and the other two were from Troop 146 in Oxford. Four of the adults were leaders of Troop 100 and the fifth was from Vicksburg and not affiliated with the Boy Scouts of America. Last minute cancellations came thick and fast. Two of the adults and four of the Scouts, including all three of the Troop 100 Scouts, dropped out. Some of this attrition was due to the Scouts themselves and some was due to anxious parents. Parents who had permitted their sons to risk the dangerous Class V whitewater of the Chattooga River would not permit them to embark on the Father of Waters.
With less than forty eight hours until launch time, the crew was down to four, Mel, Sam McLemore, Kevin Hindman and Lee Tropp, the sole remaining Scout. Mel was concerned that a crew of only four would not be able to safely maneuver the raft out of the way of towboats. He called Sam with the news that the trip would have to be cancelled. Kevin got the bad news from Sam and called Mel. Kevin had been looking forward to this trip for over six months. He was not going to sit idly by and see it cancelled. Kevin assured Mel that he and Sam would enlist adequate personnel even if they had to shanghai someone. Within a few hours Kevin and Sam had recruited Kevin’s twin brother Brian to get aboard in Greenville and Sam’s friend, Aaron Smith, and Mel’s son, Daniel, to get aboard at Vicksburg. Mel refused to give the green light as the crew was still one man short from Helena to Greenville. Kevin and Brian, along with Meredith Spencer and Scott Stiffler, are a rock band called Moral Panic. Scott, the band’s front man, is 28 years old and had never been camping in his life. Kevin and Brian shanghaied him and pressed him into service for the Helena to Greenville leg of the trip, and the green light was on.
Thanks to the Hudson family at the Piggly Wiggly and the Nasif family at the M&M, Mel was able to obtain much of the food for the voyage at a substantial discount.
Mel had court in Fayette on Thursday, July 21, and Kevin and Scott had a meeting in Jackson to plan strategy for their band. That evening they met at the Walmart in Vicksburg and drove up to Helena through some spectacular thunderstorms. Willie and Shirley Daigle had preceded them with The Compton Millsaps and were waiting at the Best Western in West Helena. Lee Tropp’s parents took Sam and Lee to eat in Memphis and then dropped them at the Best Western in West Helena at 10:00 p.m. The crew was assembled and the raft trip would begin the next morning.
CHAPTER 4: THE AMERICAN QUEEN AND THE MOSQUITOES
Melvin McFatter, Sam McLemore, Kevin Hindman, Scott Stiffler, Lee Tropp, and Willie and Shirley Daigle were up early Friday, July 22, 2005, to enjoy the continental breakfast which began at 6:00 a.m. at the Best Western in West Helena, AR. Every scoutmaster knows that when the troop is departing on a wilderness high adventure trip, it is not possible to pass the last Wal-Mart without stopping. Everyone including Mel had a couple of last minute items they just could not do without.
Willie Daigle and Lee Tropp went to the Courthouse in Helena and filled the water containers from an outdoor hose. According to Lee the water was clear at first. Then it turned yellow, then green and finally brown. At least it was wet, plentiful and free. Willie and Lee arrived at the landing with 30 gallons of it.
When we got to the City Park in Helena, there was the paddle wheel river boat, The American Queen, docked at the boat landing. Sam had mentioned that The American Queen would be on this stretch of the river, but we didn’t know it was going to be in our way. There was barely enough room beside The American Queen’s gang plank to back the trailer down the ramp. The American Queen also had mooring ropes at her bow and stern holding her at the landing. We would be launching in between the mooring ropes, and it was a close call whether The Compton Millsaps would be able to squeeze under one of those mooring ropes to get to the river. The American Queen would not depart the landing at Helena until 1:00 p.m. We decided to go ahead and launch The Compton Millsaps and load and secure all the gear. If we couldn’t squeeze under a mooring rope, we would wait until The American Queen cast off. The American Queen’s Second Mate was friendly and cooperative during the launching process.
The low river (about 10 feet on the Vicksburg gauge) caused another obstacle to a successful launch. There was about 30 feet of loose gravel between the end of the concrete launching ramp and the edge of the water. Willie was fearful that his truck, which is not a 4-wheel drive, would get stuck in the loose gravel. That’s when Mr. Summerhill, an Arkansas Conservation Officer and Eagle Scout, showed up to save the day. Mr. Summerhill’s truck was equipped with a power wench, and he agreed to pull Willie’s truck out if necessary. Willie backed his truck to within a few feet of the water. We all had to push as hard as we could to get the raft off the trailer. Sure enough, Willie’s truck was stuck, But Mr. Summerhill soon had him out.
By 11:00 a.m. The Compton Millsaps was floating, but we still had to load and secure all the gear. We didn’t put up the flag pole or the stanchions for the top deck railing. This allowed us to squeeze under The American Queen’s stern mooring rope at 11:30 a.m. and begin rowing out of the inlet. By noon we were out into the river channel and well underway. We used pieces of fire hose held in place with metal clamps to make “stops” on our oars to hold them in place in the oar locks. This made it much easier to control the 16-foot oars.
We had tied canoes on both the starboard and port sides of the raft. The more maneuverable canoes would come in handy for jug fishing and running errands. Also, we stored gear in the canoes. There was some apprehension as to how well the canoes would handle waves. We passed our first upstream tow boat with a load of barges at the Helena bridge and were pleased to find that the canoes handled the waves okay as long as they were snugged up tight at the bow, at the stern and amidships.
We put up the stanchions and flag pole on the top deck and raised both the American flag and the Troop 100 flag. We stretched canopies at the bow and stern so that the whole lower deck was shady. Gear was stowed in the canoes, hung under the top deck and tied to the railings so that the middle of the bottom deck was cleared for rowing.
For lunch we had Kentucky Fried Chicken and biscuits that Willie and Shirley had bought for us as a bon voyage present. Mel wanted to know why the packets of honey that came with the meal were labeled “honey sauce.” Perusal of the package revealed that the “sauce” contained other syrups and was not pure honey.
At 3:00 p.m. as we were rounding Montezuma Bend we had to row out of the narrow channel to make room for a large downstream tow. At 4:00 p.m. we passed Friar’s Point. Sam had brought an inner tube and the boys were trying to jump and dive from the top deck through the hole in the floating inner tube. Mel took his first swim and was surprised to find that he floated considerably faster in the current than the raft which was being slowed down by a head wind. Scott picked Mel up in one of the canoes so he wouldn’t have to swim against the current. That’s when Mel took the photo of The Compton Millsaps with Sam, Kevin and Lee on the top deck which appeared in the September 15 issue of The Reveille.
Mel rigged a couple of jugs to fish about three feet deep, baited them with worms and tied them to the stern of the raft. He had no luck and suspected he was fishing too shallow. At 6:30 p.m. as we came into Old Town Bend a small tug hauling rocks down stream tooted his horn for us.
At 8:00 p.m. we stopped for the night at a sandbar on Miller Point at mile 644. We had traveled 20 miles in 8 hours. We pushed the raft until it beached in shallow water about 20 feet from shore. We had a detachable ladder that we used to climb from the river onto the raft. We buried this short ladder in the sand making a “dead man” to which we tied our mooring rope. The beach was a mixture of sand and gravel with no mud, and there were no bugs. Scott, who had never been camping before, decided to pitch a tent on the beach so an alligator would not get him during the night. The experienced campers, Mel, Sam, Kevin and Lee, laughed at this and decided not to pitch tents. We didn’t know it then, but Scott would have the last laugh.
As soon as the sun set, the mosquitoes attacked in force. We all put on repellant and lit two citronella candles, but this was not enough to provide protection. Mel prepared supper on the raft—cheeseburgers cooked on the charcoal grill and beans and franks cooked on the propane stove. It was hard to enjoy supper with the mosquitoes swarming. We played a game where we would clap our hands and then look to see how many mosquitoes we had killed. It was not a fun game!
Right after supper everyone was ready for bed in hopes of getting some relief from the mosquitoes. Scott retired to his tent on the beach and slept mosquito free. Sam, Kevin and Lee hung hammocks on the raft and Mel bedded down under them on the deck. The mosquito net Sam had brought was not as large as he had thought it was. Sam, Kevin, Lee and Mel had all hoped to gain protection from it, but that was not to be. There were a good many mosquitoes inside the net. Also, if your exposed skin touched the net, they would bite you through it. When it got still and hot in the middle of the night, Sam couldn’t sleep, so he got up and walked about. He tried burying himself in the sand, but the mosquitoes attacked his exposed face. Then he got into the river, but the mosquitoes still attacked his exposed face. He found that if he walked at a brisk pace he could stay ahead of the mosquitoes, and that is what he did for most of the rest of the night. He heard coyotes, and as it began to get light, he found in the sand their tracks as well as those of the deer they had been chasing.
CHAPTER 5: BUOYS, BIG WAVES AND BUGS
On Saturday morning July 23, 2005, we all awoke with the first light at 6:00 a.m. Everyone except Scott spent a restless night due to mosquitoes. The river had fallen a little during the night. The whole crew was required to shove in unison to push the raft out of the shallows. By 6:30 a.m. we were back out in the current and underway.
A crop duster in a yellow airplane was spraying a field on the Arkansas side of the river. On every pass he would skim the tops of the trees at the river’s edge. On one pass he buzzed our raft with his wing lights on.
Mel set up the propane stove and made coffee—Big Easy Coffee and Chicory with fresh milk and brown sugar. Strawberry pop tarts completed the breakfast menu.
While we ate breakfast we met a dredge boat and three tow boats coming upstream. The third tow boat signaled us with two short blasts on his whistle. We knew from having reviewed our inland navigation rules this meant he intended to leave us to his starboard. The coffee pot had to be held steady while we rode the six foot swells created by the upstream tow boats. Two men in a skiff on break from the dredge boat came out to talk to us. They said they had hoped we had women on board. We said we did too!
It was looking like another beautiful day—sunny and clear. At 8:50 a.m. Scott was climbing down from the top deck when the stanchion he was holding gave way causing him to fall through the rear canopy onto the bottom deck. Scott was not hurt, but he had narrowly missed landing on Mel and the pot of hot coffee. The back canopy was ripped a bit. Examination of the stanchion revealed it had not been screwed into the top deck properly. Only a couple of its threads were holding it, and it had given way under Scott’s weight. Scott tossed the damaged stanchion into one of the canoes, but it hit one of the thwarts and bounced out into the river. This was the first item lost overboard. It happened at Burke Point Light (mile 636.5), 20 hours and 50 minutes and 27 ½ miles into the trip.
At 9:15 a.m. we passed a man at his fishing camp on the Mississippi side of the river. He told us he was an Eagle Scout. He had floated the Mississippi with his scout troop from Helena, AR to Desoto Lake in three rafts in 1966.
The channel in the Mississippi River is marked by steel buoys. They are about 6 feet tall and about 3 feet in diameter. They are anchored to the bottom with heavy weights and held in place by a steel cable. The Coast Guard occasionally adjusts their positions as the river rises and falls. The buoys which mark the western side of the channel are called “cans.” They are painted green, and they have a flat top so their silhouette looks like a can. The buoys which mark the eastern side of the channel are called “nuns.” They are painted red and have a pointed top so their silhouette looks like a nun. It is wise to stay away from them. They are so sturdily constructed that in the event of collision, if there is any damage done, it will be to your craft and not the buoy. In swift current they sometimes suddenly and violently shift position.
At 9:30 a.m. Mel was rigging a third jug for fishing. Sam and Kevin were keeping lookout and steering. Apparently they thought the current would carry us past the nun that we were rapidly approaching, but it didn’t. There was a sharp clang of metal on metal as we collided with the channel buoy. This happened 21 ½ hours into the trip. Mel went overboard and made a damage inspection. Luckily there was only some missing white paint from our raft and some red paint from the nun where we struck it with our bow nearly amidships.
At 10:00 a.m. we passed through the chute of Island 63. There we met an upstream towboat, The Mary Ann, pushing 42 barges (6 wide and 7 long). Due to the narrow channel, Sam had to steer us right into her wake. This would be the roughest water that we would experience the entire trip. The Mary Ann created a train of standing waves about seven feet high and nearly 200 yards long. It reminded Mel of the rapids on the Nantahala River called Patton’s run. Sam and Lee steered and rowed and Mel wrote his journal entry as the crew rode through this artificially created Class III whitewater rapid. Waves broke over the bow of The Compton Millsaps and deluged the lower deck. When the first wave broke over the deck, Scott who was sitting in an inner tube at the bow was washed to amidships. Kevin was caught in the starboard canoe. He kept it upright by holding onto the raft. Scott steadied the port canoe by holding onto it from the raft. The Compton Millsaps’ great mass makes her a very ponderous but stable craft, and the crew was glad to learn that she could safely carry them through the worst waves that the Mississippi River and her tow boats had to offer.
At noon we ate a floating lunch—salmon in tin foil, sardines, and canned smoked sausages, Ritz crackers and Louisiana hot sauce, with ginger snaps for dessert. While we were eating two fishermen came up in their motor boat to talk to us. They said we were crazy for not having a motor.
At Jackson Cutoff we met an upstream tow boat. She signaled us with two short blasts of her horn, meaning she intended to leave us to her starboard. A man with a small dog whom we had passed while he was jug fishing behind a rock dike came up to us in his motor boat. He asked if he were able to get out of the way of the towboats. We told him that so far we had been able to.
At Sunflower Cutoff two more men in a motor boat came out and told us we were crazy not to have a motor. Also in Sunflower Cutoff, we hit fast current with whirlpools. Everyone except Mel was in swimming. The Compton Millsaps began to swirl around and around and everyone scrambled back on board.
At 1:00 p.m. Mel called on the cell phone for Bob Reed, the Scoutmaster who had agreed to help Troop 100 with its re-supply stop at Rosedale. Mel spoke with his wife, Theresa, and asked her to tell Bob we expected to be at Terrene Landing at Rosedale by Sunday afternoon. When we were at mile 624 (about 40 miles upstream of Rosedale), Bob returned our call. Mel told him we hoped to be to Rosedale by late Sunday afternoon. Mel promised to call him Sunday right after church to let him know where we were. Bob asked how we had faired with the mosquitoes. Mel told him we had not done well.
At 4:10 p.m. we were at mile 615. We needed to get to mile 605 before we stopped to make camp. A couple of times during the afternoon we went for long stretches without a tow boat in sight. There was no significant wind and the raft stayed in the channel all by itself. This left the crew with plenty of time to sun bathe on the top deck and to swim in the river. We used Sam’s rescue rope as a tether to help us get back to the raft like the astronauts on space walks from the international space station. The hottest part of the day began about 4:00 p.m. when the sun got low enough to shine in under the canopies and top deck. There is a space under the stern of The Compton Millsaps because the middle pontoon is not as long as the other two. This became a favorite spot to spend time on hot afternoons submerged in the cool river water and shaded from the sun.
At 4:30 p.m. at Cessions Towhead (mile 614) Scott lost the second item overboard into the river. Years ago Sam had given Mel a Gerber whitewater knife known as a “River Shorty.” Mel had permanently attached the sheath of that knife to his old PFD (personal flotation device). Mel had loaned his old PFD to Scott for the trip. On one of Scott’s dives from the top deck the knife came out of its sheath and was lost.
At 6:00 p.m. we passed Dennis Landing and Hurricane Point (mile 610). We were making good time.
The crew made short work of a row across the river to the Mississippi side and a good sandbar. At 6:35 p.m. we beached in shallow water, buried the ladder in the sand and moored to it. There were deer feeding near the edge of the woods, and we did not spook them when we stopped to make camp. This time we set up two tents, one on the sun deck and the other on the lower deck at the bow. Sam who was planning to sleep in the tent on the sun deck refused to put the rain fly on. Sam declared he would rather sleep wet than hot.
Sam, Kevin and Lee seined for minnows in an inlet and caught a few. They set out a trotline baited with worms. They had a fish on it before they finished baiting but it got off. Scott followed a couple of the jugs around in a canoe but got no bites.
Mel called Bob Reed on the cell phone and told him we had made better time than we had expected. We now hoped to be at Rosedale shortly after noon. Bob said he would change clothes after church and meet us at Terrene Landing.
Lee and Mel set up the propane stove and the grill on the lower deck at the stern and cooked supper—sausage dogs and chili.
The mosquitoes attacked again at dark. They weren’t quite as bad as they had been the night before, but they were still plenty bad enough. While we were trying to eat supper some bugs that Sam identified as mayflies swarmed us too. Mayflies don’t bite, but their sheer numbers make them dreadfully annoying. They would light on and virtually coat everything.
By 10:00 p.m. the mosquitoes and mayflies had run everyone into the tents. We tried to kill all the mosquitoes and mayflies that were in the tents with us, but we were not entirely successful. This would be the stillest and hottest night of the trip. Mel awoke once during the night and saw Lee sitting on the deck swatting mosquitoes. Apparently he had decided to endure the insects rather than the heat and humidity inside the tent. Mel swatted some of the mosquitoes that were in the tent with him, and they made bloody smears on the tent wall. It was hot and humid inside the tent, and the mosquito repellant Mel had doused himself with made him feel even more hot and sticky. Occasionally a tow boat passed and shined its spot light on us. After the tow boats passed waves crashed into the moored raft and banged the outboard canoe against it. The waves reminded Mel of the sounds of the surf on the beach at the Gulf of Mexico and helped to lull him into sleep.
CHAPTER 6: THE LOCK, THE WHIRLPOOLS, AND THE BIG COINCIDENCE
On Sunday morning July 24, 2005, we were up just before dawn at 5:50 a.m. Sam and Kevin went to check and take up the trotline while Scott, Lee and Mel took down the tents. The trotline yielded two flathead catfish and a red-eared turtle. We kept the catfish and threw the turtle back. We cast off at 6:45 a.m., and by 7:00 a.m. we had rowed out into the middle of the river and were in good current.
For breakfast Mel made chicory coffee with brown sugar, and we ate two coffee cakes that Sam’s girl friend and Lee’s sister, Isabelle, had made for us. The rest of the crew was learning to get what they wanted themselves before passing any food to Lee. Lee ate nearly all of one of the coffee cakes all by himself.
The day began a little hazy with a nice breeze, but it would be hot and sunny later on. Mel made a list for the re-supply stop at Rosedale. We hoped to make the fifteen miles to Terrene Landing in about five hours and be there about noon.
Sam put a screw hook into the stern rail, and Mel used it to hang the two catfish for cleaning. They were soon cut into steaks, put into a two-gallon zip lock bag and deposited into an ice chest. The plan was to fry them for Sunday night supper.
Sam had brought a large bottle of Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Soap, a biodegradable product which played a major part in the crew’s personal hygiene. The crew used it to bathe themselves and to wash their clothes. Bathing was accomplished by donning a PFD and jumping into the river to get wet. The bather would then climb back onto the raft, remove the PFD and lather up, hair and all, with the Dr.Bronner’s. The bather would then put his PFD back on and jump back into the river to rinse. Just for the fun of it the leaps into the river were usually made from the top deck. Dr. Bronner’s creates a tingling of the skin. After a thorough washing of body and clothes the crew members felt clean and refreshed.
Scott had brought his Bible along. Sam read aloud from both Leviticus and Proverbs. A spirited discussion followed the reading of each verse.
At 10:20 a.m. we reached mile 600 and the new mouth of the White River. We were still eight miles above Terrene Landing. There is a lock at the new mouth of the White River. We didn’t know it at the time, but some of the smaller tow boats turn in off the Mississippi and proceed up the White River. As we drifted past the new mouth of the White we met three upstream tow boats. We were engaged in taking photographs of the lock and didn’t notice that the third tow boat was slowing down. The captain of the third tow boat came over his loudspeaker saying, “I’m coming in there whether they’re out of the way or not.” We realized then that we were blocking the lock. We manned the oars and were soon out of the way.
Just above Terrene Landing we came around Victoria Bend. Some of the biggest and prettiest houses on the river are located on the bluff above Victoria Bend. Victoria Bend also has some of the river’s fastest and most turbulent waters. Kevin was swimming and holding onto the safety rope when we came into the bend.
“Watch out for that whirlpool,” Sam called to him.
“What whirlpool?” Kevin responded.
“The one you’re in,” Sam said.
Kevin must not have found the experience unpleasant. The rest of the way around the bend he stood on the deck wearing his PFD and holding the safety rope and leaped into every whirlpool we passed with a cry of, “Ya’ll don’t let me do anything stupid!” Thereafter he was known as “The Whirlpool Hunter.”
At 12:45 p.m. we reached mile 592 and Terrene Landing. About a half hour later Bob Reed showed up. Bob is the Scoutmaster of Troop 402 in Cleveland, and he works at the Port in Rosedale. Scott and Kevin stayed with The Compton Millsaps, and Bob took Mel, Sam and Lee into Rosedale to re-supply. The first stop was the Piggly Wiggly. It was air conditioned so Mel, Sam and Lee were in no hurry. Among the items purchased were 16 bags of ice, spray insecticide, chicken drumsticks, apples, oranges, cucumbers, and potatoes to make French fries to go with our catfish. Bob Reed was thoroughly amused. He had never seen anyone get excited over going to the Piggly Wiggly at Rosedale. We also stopped at a service station and re-filled all of our water coolers. We departed from Terrene Landing at 3:15 p.m. The re-supply stop at Rosedale had taken two and a half hours.
Mel had brought a radio operated by a hand crank instead of batteries. It was also a cell phone charger. At 3:48 p.m. the crew tuned to Mississippi Public Broadcasting and listened to Mel’s commentary, “Poochie,” a story about his first dog.
The people in the Delta make a good bit of recreational use of the river around Rosedale. Several boaters stopped to talk to us. We discerned a pattern in the questions that boaters inevitably asked: (1) “Where did y’all start?” (2) “Where are y’all going?” and (3) “Ain’t y’all got no motor?” That’s when we officially changed the name of the trip from The Huckleberry Finn High Adventure Raft Trip to the “Naw, We Ain’t Got No Motor” Raft Trip.
Bob Reed had told us there was a sandbar about 15 miles downstream known as Venice Beach where on a sunny Sunday afternoon we might see some scantily clad women. Our excitement was short lived as we realized we would not reach there until nearly dark.
We talked to three men in one boat who knew Ben Porter, Whit Cole and Angela Nations.
On the night before Mel had told the crew a story about one of his fraternity brothers at Ole Miss, a man from the Delta named Judge Jeffcoat. He’s not a judge. Judge is his first name. Four men in a boat came out to talk to us. One asked where we were from. When he heard Port Gibson, another asked if we knew Mel McFatter. “That would be me,” Mel replied. It was Judge Jeffcoat! Mel and Judge had not seen one another or spoken to one another since 1968. The men in the boat held onto the raft and drifted with us for several miles while Mel and Judge entertained everyone with stories about the Dekes at Ole Miss.
Coming around Rosedale Bend we entered another section of fast current. We estimated our speed at about six miles per hour, but we could only estimate as we had forgotten to bring a GPS instrument which would have tracked our speed to within one tenth of a mile per hour.
Our days were pleasant, but we had come to dread the setting of the sun. At night the insects ruled. We had learned to eat supper before dark. Mel started the fish and chips while we were still underway. Bob Reed had said he liked to put mustard on his catfish before he battered them, and we decided to give it a try. We stopped just before sunset at mile 579.4 in Monterey Bend just below Prentiss Dikes. As the sun was setting and we were finishing supper The American Queen came into sight upstream. It had gone from Helena upstream to Memphis and was now on its way back down. The American Queen is the largest paddle-wheel steam boat ever built, and it was quite a sight coming around the bend in the twilight with all of its lights blazing. We felt like we were back in the days of Mark Twain.
We set up the tents on the raft again. That way in the morning we can start floating right away and take down the tents while we are underway.
At dark the bugs attacked. First the mosquitoes and then a kind of bug we had not seen before. Whatever it was its rear end looked for all the world like a festering pimple. The bugs drove everyone into the tents. After Sam read the label on the aerosol insecticide we had bought in Rosedale he was afraid to use it. Mel had no such qualms, and it was effective in eliminating the mosquitoes in his tent. Everyone was asleep by 10:00 p.m.
CHAPTER 7: OUR GOOSE IS ALMOST COOKED
Monday, July 25, 2005, was our 4th day on the river. The crew was up at 6:00 a.m. and floating by 6:30 a.m. Mel made coffee while underway. After breakfast Scott read Bible verses and the crew discussed them. We were only 40 miles upriver from Greenville.
At Catfish Point, mile 572, we saw more big, pretty houses up on the bluff similar to the ones we had seen in Victoria Bend above Rosedale.
Life onboard the raft had begun to settle into a routine. The day belonged to us, but the night belonged to the insects. We tried to use as much daylight as possible for floating and conducting activities that could not be done in the tents. Tents were pitched onboard. In the mornings all we had to do was untie the mooring line, dig up the ladder it was tied to and push the raft out of the shallows. We could be floating within a half hour of waking up. Mel would make coffee while the rest of the crew took down the tents and rowed the raft out into the current. Then the crew would clean the prior night’s supper dishes, stow all the gear away and wash down the deck to get rid of sand and dead bugs. After the raft was cleaned, the crew would then bathe and wash their clothes in the river. Life onboard a 24-foot by 8-foot raft affords little opportunity for privacy. We will spare you gentle readers the details and state only that the most intimate bodily functions had become communal events.
The middle of the day was mostly leisure time. The crew would read, swim, sunbathe and take naps in the shade of the top deck and front and rear canopies. When there was no cross wind, the raft stayed in the channel all on its own. There would be occasional calls to quarters when the lookout spotted approaching barge traffic, channel buoys or rock dikes. Sometimes we would go for hours without encountering a tow boat. At other times we would pass three or four tow boats in a single bend. Avoiding barges, buoys and dikes was not difficult so long as we spotted the problem well ahead and rowed as a team. Mel would act as steersman in the stern and the four crewmen would man the oars, two to a side. Mel would give commands for executing maneuvers. For example, the command, “all ahead starboard, all back port,” would result in a sharp turn to port (left).
The hottest time of day began about 4:00 p.m. when the sun would shine in under the top deck and canopies. Mel would set up the grill and stove and begin supper about 6:00 p.m. while the raft was still underway. We would continue floating until about 7:30 or 8:00 p.m. Supper would be ready by then, and we could pitch the tents and eat before the sun set and the insects attacked. Nights had been the most unpleasant times so far because the insects kept us confined to our tents, and it has been hot in the tents with the screens zipped shut.
At 2:10 p.m. the weather was pleasant. It was clear and sunny and the temperature was about 90 degrees. There was a light wind out of the south. The breeze made it much more pleasant than Sunday afternoon had been, but it also slowed us down to an average speed of only about two miles per hour. We drifted close to a sandbar on the Arkansas side. Sam, Kevin, Scott and Lee all swam to the northern end of this long sandbar leaving only Mel onboard. Then they played Frisbee football along the sandbar and swam back to the raft at its southern end. We were in no hurry as we could not possibly reach Greenville on Monday. The plan was to camp early at mile 555 about 18 miles above Greenville and do some fishing.
At 3:00 p.m. we stopped for the day at a huge sandbar at mile 557 about 20 miles above Greenville. It looked like the fishing might be better there. We were on the Arkansas side about five miles southeast of Arkansas City.
At 5:40 p.m. Sam and Kevin took one of the canoes back upstream into an old river channel to set out trotlines. Mel took a brief nap in one of the hammocks. Then he taped the bottom ends of the steel posts on the starboard side of the raft. They were damaging the canoe where it rubbed against them. Scott and Lee went off exploring the sandbar. Mel readied the charcoal grill and prepared to cook chicken drumsticks for supper.
At 7:00 p.m. Sam and Kevin returned from setting out the lines and Mel started the charcoals. We spied a flock of Canadian geese on the sandbar and joked about catching one for supper. Sam went out stalking them. To everyone’s surprise he returned with one. The goose had an injured wing that prevented it from making more than a short flight. Sam had run it down, thrown his hat over it, and brought it back to the raft. The goose was very much alive, but it had obviously given up hope and resigned itself to being feet up on the supper table. Sam released it on the deck of the raft. It just sat there while we photographed it. Then Sam put it in the river, and it obtained a new lease on life. It swam vigorously out into the river looking back over its shoulder as if to say, “Okay, big boy, you can run pretty fast, but how fast can you swim?”
We were later than we had planned getting supper ready. Just before sunset Mel sprayed the raft with Raid Yard Guard, but it didn’t do much good. While Mel grilled the chicken drumsticks and Sam fried potato chips on the propane stove, we were bombarded by mosquitoes. Mel placed a citronella candle between his feet but it had little effect. We all applied a liberal amount of what the crew had unanimously decided was the best mosquito repellant on board—unscented Off Skintastic. Supper was ready at 9:00 p.m.—grilled chicken drumsticks, french fried potato chips and sliced cucumbers. The crew’s favorite condiment was Louisiana hot sauce. They applied it liberally to the drumsticks, the chips and the cucumbers.
At 10:00 p.m. Mel, Scott and Lee zipped themselves into the tents. Sam and Kevin liberally re-applied Off Skintastic to all of their exposed skin and went to run and take up the trotlines. At midnight Sam and Kevin returned to the raft and woke Mel. They had two catfish. One was a blue cat in excess of twenty pounds. Mel, aware of the proclivity of Troop 100 Scouts to attach appellations to noteworthy creatures, asked, “What did ya’ll name it?”
“Poochie!” Sam and Kevin responded in unison. They had named the hefty catfish after Mel’s first dog that he had discussed in the Mississippi Public Broadcasting radio commentary they had heard on Sunday afternoon.
We took pictures of Poochie. Sam then put him on a stringer, but he floated belly up. Sam and Kevin hung him up on the hook on the raft’s stern railing and began to clean him. Mel went back to sleep. It was nearly 1:30 before Sam and Kevin put Poochie in the ice chest and went to bed.
CHAPTER 8: NEAR DISASTER AND RE-SUPPLY AT GREENVILLE
Tuesday, July 26, 2005, was our 5th day on the river. We had camped Monday night at mile 557 in Choctaw Bend 20 miles above Greenville. Mel woke Sam at 5:45 a.m. They had the raft cast off by 6:00 a.m., but it was about 6:30 a.m. after they woke Lee, Kevin and Scott to row before the raft was in the current. We were still fighting a light headwind. Mel set up the table and stove and made coffee while the rest of the crew took down the tents. We ate Isabelle Tropp’s second homemade coffee cake for breakfast.
At 8:45 a.m. Mel called Steve Campbell, a reporter for The Delta Democrat Times. He planned to meet us in Greenville to get photos and information for a newspaper article. Mel also called Washington County Supervisor, Paul Watson. He gave us the phone number for the Washington County Sheriff’s Office and said they would be expecting a call from us between 3:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m.
At 10:00 a.m. a local fisherman named Steve Adams came out to meet us in his fishing boat. He had three fishing poles set up in holders on the stern of his boat and said he was tight-lining for catfish using skipjack for bait. Mr. Adams was also a baseball coach at Deer Creek Academy. He told us about catching a 70 pound catfish a few years back. It took him 45 minutes to land it. Mr. Adams said he knew the River well from Helena down to Greenville. We told him about Sam catching and releasing the Canadian goose on Monday. He told us about him and a buddy rescuing a pelican. It had gotten caught in a jug fishing rig with the hook in its mouth and the jug wrapped around its legs. While they were freeing it the pelican severely beat his buddy with its wings. They fed the starving bird some skipjack and sent it on its way. While we were talking to Mr. Adams we got caught in an eddy. Mr. Adams saved us some rowing by giving us a short tow out of the eddy with his motorized fishing boat. He also gave us some skipjack he had caught for us to use as bait and a steel rod for us to use as a mooring anchor.
We were fighting a brisk headwind so Sam and I furled both the fore and aft canopies to minimize wind resistance. We hated to lose the shade, but the canopies were slowing us down too much.
At 1:00 p.m. the most frightening and potentially most disastrous event of the trip occurred. The Mississippi River has a way of lulling those who are navigating it to sleep with mile after mile of calmness, and then springing sudden and unexpected danger upon them. Scott was asleep on the top deck. Lee was asleep in his hammock. Sam and Kevin were experimenting with a bucket on a rope. They had tossed the bucket into the river and tied the rope to the raft to see if it would act as a sail to pull us through the current against the headwind. Mel was on the cell phone talking to personnel at the Washington County Sheriff’s office to arrange the re-supply stop at Greenville. Mel looked up from his telephone conversation and saw that the current was carrying the raft straight at a channel buoy. This one was a “nun,” a red buoy with a pointed top marking the Mississippi side of the channel. Channel buoys are made of steel, and they are built sturdily enough to withstand being run over by tug boats and barges. In the case of collision there was no question that the channel buoy would have a significant advantage over The Compton Millsaps.
John Ruskey had warned Mel that John’s first raft trip down the Mississippi had ended in near disaster when his raft had collided with a channel buoy. John and his mate had been playing chess when they should have been watching where they were going. The channel buoy broke their raft into pieces. They lost most of their belongings and had to swim to shore to save themselves. John said he never played chess on the river after that.
A worst case scenario would be for the raft to somehow catch on the buoy or its mooring cable. In the swift current this would cause the raft to immediately flip upside down. A next worst scenario would be for the buoy to puncture one of the pontoons. This also would cause the raft to capsize just not as quickly.
Mel shouted, “Mayday!” Sam and Kevin sprang to the oars. But it was too late—way too late—to avoid a collision. The Compton Millsaps dead-centered the buoy on its port side. The port canoe hopped into the air. Then came the sickening thud of steel on aluminum as the pointed top of the buoy hit the port pontoon. The considerable weight of The Compton Millsaps forced the buoy down into the water and the raft skidded over it. It popped the starboard canoe into the air as it surfaced on the other side.
We hadn’t caught on the buoy and nothing had broken off of the raft. Kevin went overboard and reported that he could see no damage. We began to breathe a little easier. It would not be until we got the raft out of the water at Natchez that we would be able to fully inspect the damage and see just how close we had come to puncturing the port pontoon and sinking the raft.
At 2:20 p.m. we docked at Warfield Park landing, mile 537, at Greenville. Mel called both Steve Campbell, the reporter, and the Washington County Sheriff’s office. At Greenville we would have our first personnel change. Scott Stiffler would leave, and Brian Hindman would take his place. Brian showed up with his girlfriend, Beth, who lives in Greenville. They took Kevin to Beth’s house for a shower. Then Deputy Brian Hight arrived in a Sheriff’s Department van. Sam and Lee went with Deputy Hight to get water, ice and groceries. That left Mel and Scott to watch the raft.
Steve Campbell and Bill, his award winning photographer, interviewed Mel and Scott and took pictures for a feature story which would appear in the July 27, 2005, issue of The Delta Democrat Times.
Rebecca Hindman came and gave Scott a ride back to Port Gibson. Deputy Hight brought Sam and Lee back from the store. He had taken Sam and Lee to his own house and let them refill our water containers with his garden hose.
We shoved off from Greenville at 5:00 p.m. We didn’t notice until later that we had left the steel rod Steve Adams had given us stuck in the mud. Brian is a much more experienced oarsman than Scott, and we immediately began to appreciate his presence.
Mel set up the table and stove. He filleted the two catfish Sam and Kevin had caught the night before. The larger fish, “Poochie,” produce at least ten pounds of fillets. Mel coated the fillets in a mixture of mustard and Louisiana hot sauce, rolled them in seasoned corn meal and fried them in the iron skillet in peanut oil.
While Mel was cooking supper, we passed over the most turbulent water of the trip. Something below the surface was making the river boil. Sam and Mel agreed these were the biggest whirlpools and standing waves they had ever seen in the river. Sam suggested we row to minimize getting caught up in the rough water. The Compton Millsaps is a large and stable craft. We passed through the turbulence without incident. Sam and Mel also agreed they would not want to paddle through that in kayaks.
While Mel was cooking supper, we made about five miles. We stopped for the night just above the new bridge being built just below Greenville in a lagoon that had been created by the construction. With our improved crew of oarsmen, we made the ferry across the river to catch the lagoon with room to spare.
It was “all you can eat night” on board The Compton Millsaps. After we had stuffed down all the fried catfish we could hold, we put the leftovers in Ziploc bags and stowed them in the cooler for breakfast.
Just at dark Mel and Sam took baths with Dr. Bronner’s soap. As usual the mosquitoes also showed up right after dark, even though there was a good breeze and we were moored at the very tip of a long narrow sand spit. At least it would be cool and breezy and not still and hot. The crew retired to their tents rather than put on insect repellant.
At midnight Mel awoke convinced that the raft had broken free of its moorings and was adrift in the current. It must have been a dream, but it seemed so real that Mel was about to call “general quarters” and awake the crew. He had to exit the tent and see for himself that the raft was still safely moored before he could believe it and return to sleep.
CHAPTER 9: TALKING TO THE TOWBOAT CAPTAINS AND RIDING OUT THE STORM
Wednesday, July 27, 2005, was our 6th day on the river. After a cool breezy night, Mel woke the crew at 6:00 a.m. By 6:30 we were underway. There’s a new Highway 82 bridge across the Mississippi River under construction just below Greenville. As we passed the new bridge a Massman Construction tug was bringing a crew out from the Arkansas shore for a day’s work. Mel was sitting in the stern of the raft making coffee while the rest of the crew were rowing to get us safely past the bridge. “Is that fellow sitting down in the back a foreman?” the tug boat captain called over his bullhorn.
At 8:00 a.m., we met the northbound towboat, Julie J. We had our marine radio on, and we heard her captain talking to two towboats which were northbound behind him. “There’s an unusual craft southbound at American Cutoff,” he said. “They’re flying an American flag, so I don’t reckon they’re terrorists. They got their oars out. They don’t appear to be too energetic with ‘em, but they are keeping it kinda straight. It looks like they’re doing a Huckleberry Finn thing. It might be a historical reenactment of some sort.”
Mel spoke to him on the marine radio. He identified us as the Boy Scout raft Compton Millsaps and thanked him for warning the approaching tugs about us. The Julie J.’s captain then asked us the standard three questions: (1) “Where’d ya’ll put in at?” (2) “Where ya’ll takin’ out at?” (3) “Ain’t ya’ll got no motor on that thing?” When he heard we had no motor, he passed that information back to the approaching towboats. Then he asked if we were tying up at night. When we confirmed that we were, he said that was a good idea.
At 8:30 a.m. everyone took a morning swim and bath in the river. At 9:00 a.m. we passed mile 525 at the south end of American Cutoff.
The crew’s morale was high. The cooler nights and decrease in bothersome insects had everyone in good spirits. Brian is an experienced and energetic oarsman, and his addition to the crew was appreciated. The older guys had begun to praise Lee for doing his duties without having to be told, and Lee showed initiative in return. Back at the new bridge construction site there was a sign that read, “Safety is everyone’s responsibility.” Our crew could not have agreed more.
At 9:55 a.m. we passed the Walnut Point Light, mile 522.5. Brian and Kevin were on the top deck fishing. Sam manned two of the oars and kept us on the eddy line on the Mississippi side of the channel. Then all four crewmen rowed to take us out into the middle of the channel where we would make better time.
At 10:30 a.m. the raft got trapped in an eddy on the Mississippi side in Kentucky Bend. It took us two tries to get free. On the second try we gathered enough speed going upstream with the reverse current in the eddy and came out at the top of it. To counter a stiff crosswind out of the west, we took down both canopies and rowed hard to the buoy line marking the west side of the channel on the Arkansas side. (These were the flat-topped green buoys called “cans.”)
At 1:00 p.m. Daniel McFatter called us on the cell phone. He was finishing his summer school finals at Ole Miss. He would call back tonight to schedule his rendezvous with us to get aboard for the rest of the trip. The crosswind died. With no wind the raft stayed in the middle of the channel without assistance from us. There were no boats for a while. Everyone was laid back and lazy. Then we spied a tug and barges approaching from downstream.
At 1:50 p.m. we were at Grand Lake Cutoff, mile 510. We had passed two more upstream towboats. Sam and Brian took the starboard canoe to the bank on the Mississippi side to cut some willow limbs for fishing poles. A passing towboat’s captain hailed us on the marine radio to see if we “had our ears on.” We answered affirmatively. The remaining crew on board, Kevin, Lee and Mel, rowed the raft to the Mississippi side to avoid a rock dike. We lost one of the extra oars overboard, but Kevin went in and retrieved it.
At 2:20 p.m. Sam and Brian were still gone in the canoe. Mel talked to Celia Starnes on the cell phone. She said she would try to bring her grandchildren to see us take out at Natchez on Sunday. At 3:00 p.m. at mile 506, Sam and Brian caught up with us in the canoe with the willow branches they had cut. They had paddled four miles.
The rest of the afternoon was a lazy float. Mel started pork chops on the grill at 6:00 p.m. while the raft was still underway.
At 7:10 p.m. we camped at mile 469 on the Louisiana side across the river from Mayersville, Ms. We moored the raft at the mouth of an old river channel. We had traveled 36 miles in 12 hours and 40 minutes. We moored the raft both fore and aft. We used the ladder for the bow. On the stern we used one of the willow poles Sam and Brian had cut on their canoe excursion. Sam and Lee set out a trotline in the old river channel. We had grilled pork chops with barbecue sauce and coleslaw for supper. At dark the mosquitoes ran us into the tents.
Not long after dark a storm approached from the north. The wind whipped up to what we estimated was about 25 m.p.h. The wind was strong enough to bend the poles of the tent on the top deck, and Brian and Kevin had to take it down so it would not blow away. Sam and Mel put the rain fly on the tent on the bottom deck during the wind storm. When they lost their grip on a corner, it beat them severely before they could secure it. The wind whipped up the dry sand from the bank and everyone got “sand blasted.” The wind had pulled the mooring lines very tight. We decided to be safe rather than sorry. We dug a long narrow trench in the sand between the bow and stern moorings and buried one of the oars in it. Then we tied a third mooring line amidships and anchored it to the buried oar.
The lightning show in the northern sky was spectacular. Brian called his girlfriend, Beth, who was in Greenville. She confirmed what we had already figured out. It was raining and storming there. Sam and Kevin hung hammocks from the top deck. Mel, Brian and Lee slept in the tent on the bottom deck. The breeze kept up all night which kept the mosquitoes away. But to our great surprise, it never rained. It was the best night for sleeping all trip.
CHAPTER 10: THE GAME WARDENS AND THE GAR
Thursday, July 28, 2005, was our 7th day on the river. Mel woke Sam at 5:30 a.m., and they went to run and take up the trotline. They caught a small gar. There was also a catfish on the line, but the line was tangled on a snag. Sam got into the water to untangle the line, but the catfish got away. The line had been baited with some of the skipjack that Steve Adams had given us at Greenville. Nearly every hook was picked clean. As Sam and Mel paddled back, they hollered to Brian and Kevin to cast off. We got underway at 6:15.
There was lots of towboat traffic both upstream and downstream. For breakfast we had coffee, poptarts, and some fresh strawberries from the re-supply at Greenville. It was overcast. Sam took the helm and steered most of the morning.
At 8:30 a.m. we reached Lake Providence, LA, mile 488. There was a nice new house being built on the bank.
At 8:35 a.m. two Louisiana game wardens in a motorboat came along side to check us out. As they approached one of the game wardens gave us a hand signal to cut our engine. We found this amusing. Only Sam had an oar in the water, and all he was doing was steering to keep us straight. The game wardens failed to share in our mirth. Both had somber and businesslike demeanors. They did not come aboard, but one of the wardens stood in the bow of their boat and gave us and the raft a thorough visual inspection. They asked where we had come from and where we were going. They asked if we were tying up at night and if we were having trouble staying out of the way of the towboats and barges. Then they told us to be careful and moved on. Lee was asleep in his hammock and missed the entire encounter.
At 9:00 a.m. the guys decided to get silly with the gar which had been riding in the bottom of the canoe. It was still very much alive. Kevin filled a five-gallon plastic bucket with river water and conducted simulated gar torture. He would dunk the gar in the bucket of water, pull him out and demand, “Where’s the money?” When the gar remained silent, Kevin would dunk him in the bucket of water again. After the boys tired of this, Kevin took the gar to the top deck and tossed him like a javelin. Certainly the gar considered himself fortunate to be back in the river and away from the crazy humans.
At 9:45 a.m. a drizzling rain began to fall. The crew broke out their rain gear and put up the fore and aft tarps. The heavy towboat traffic from earlier had dwindled. We had not seen another boat in over an hour.
At ll:25 a.m. it was still overcast and drizzling. We were at mile 477, 40 miles above Vicksburg. Brian had frayed the end of a nylon cord and was trolling for gar with it. As any trotline fisherman will tell you, gar will bite at the frayed end of a line. Their needle-like teeth then catch in the frayed line.
At noon the rain began to slack up and then quit. Brian and Mel prepared six fishing rigs: four jugs, a gar line aft and a fishing line forward. Sam and Brian took one of the canoes and tended the jugs for a while but had no luck. By 1:15 they were back on board.
At 1:45 p.m. the overcast had begun to break up, and it was partly cloudy. We were at the Seitz light, mile 472.1, 35 miles above Vicksburg.
At 3:15 p.m. we were at mile 466, 29 miles above Vicksburg. A charcoal fire had been lighted in the grill in the stern and a dutch oven full of blueberry cobbler was cooking in it. There was very little breeze, and the sky was mostly overcast.
We had reviewed our copy of the U.S. Coast Guard’s Inland Navigation Rules. We had been keeping our marine radio on, tuned to channel 13, and we had gotten better at communicating with the towboat captains. Mel talked with the captain of an approaching upstream boat, and they agreed to pass on “one toot.” This is a hold-over from the old days before radios when the boat captains communicated by sounding their horns. One toot means the boats intend to pass each other portside-to-portside. Two toots means the boats intend to pass each other starboardside-to starboardside.
At 6:00 p.m. Mel started more charcoal for cooking supper. Mountain Man Breakfast was on the menu. This dutch oven dish is a long time favorite of the Troop 100 Scouts. The ingredients are sausage, onion, frozen hashbrowns, a dozen eggs and cheddar cheese.
At 6:45 p.m. we’d had a favorable wind for the last hour. We saw two whitetail bucks on the Louisiana shore.
We spied a rock dike on the Mississippi side that had a nice lagoon behind it. It looked like a good place to camp and fish. Two large tows were about to pass each other—42 barges in each. We had to wait in slack water on the Louisiana side until the way was clear for us to row across the channel. The downstream towboat, The Viking Queen, had a friendly and courteous captain. He chatted with us on the marine radio and cut back on his engines as he passed us to minimize his wake. We rowed across the river and tied up to the rocks on the downstream side of the rock dike in Milliken’s Bend, mile 454. By the time we had finished mooring the raft at 8:00 p.m. the Mountain Man Breakfast was ready.
Brian and Mel set out one trotline and two jugs in the eddy behind the rock dike. They baited with worms and skipjack. At 11:00 p.m. Mel and Brian ran the trotline. Nothing was on it and only one hook was empty and needed re-baiting. They picked up the two jugs as they were about to go to sleep and the jugs would probably float out into the current and be lost if they were left unattended.
Back at the raft, while Mel and Brian prepared for bed they noticed two spiders which had spun webs between the rails of the raft and were busy catching bugs.
Mel startled himself awake again during the middle of the night convinced that the raft had broken free of its mooring and was adrift. He had to shine his light on the mooring lines to convince himself otherwise. Sam said later that the same thing had happened to him.
CHAPTER 11: GETTING REPORTED TO THE COAST GUARD
Friday, July 29, 2005, was our eighth day on the river. We were expecting an eventful day as we would be making a re-supply stop in Vicksburg.
Brian and Mel got up at 5:30 a.m. and ran the trotline. There was a blue catfish (about 8 pounds) and a small gar. We decided to keep the gar as several members of the crew had never tasted fried gar.
The rest of the crew got the raft ready to cast off while Mel and Brian took up the trotline. We were underway at 6:35. Mel made coffee and Sam made grilled bacon and cheese sandwiches.
After breakfast the whole crew washed their clothes and bathed themselves in the river with Dr. Bronner’s soap so they would be clean and fresh for the stop in port. Sam even broke out some deodorant which the whole crew used.
Mel had spoken on the cell phone with S. C. Thomas, the Scoutmaster for Troop 102 in Vicksburg. At ll:30 a.m. he met us at the mouth of the Yazoo Canal in his motorboat with pizza for our lunch. We were thankful for the pizza, but S. C. provided something we were even more thankful for. The river was dropping so there was a strong current in the Yazoo. Also, the wind was out of the East. We tried rowing up the canal, but it was tough going. We tossed a line to S. C., and he gave us a tow for the one mile trip to the Vicksburg City Landing. Without S. C.’s help we would have been rowing hard for well over and hour. We landed at Vicksburg at 12:10 p.m. The crew were all wearing “wife-beater” trapeze style undershirts with “Naw, We Ain’t Got No Motor” written on the front and “Go Around” written on the back. The message on the back was for the captains of the towboats who were overtaking us.
A reporter and a photographer for The Vicksburg Post were waiting for us at the landing. Ken and Peggy McLemore were present. So was Aaron Smith, an Eagle Scout from Troop 300 in Brandon and a 21 year old student at Mississippi State, who would be joining our crew for the rest of the trip. Bambi Starnes was there with her children, Ellie, Sylvan, and Emma “the Dilemma.” (These are grandchildren of Roy and Celia Starnes). Not long after we arrived, Lisa McFatter showed up with Daniel McFatter, a Troop 100 Eagle Scout and 21 year old student at Ole Miss, who would also join the crew for the rest of the trip.
Sam and Lee went with Ken to the grocery store to buy supplies and to refill our water containers. The rest of the crew invited the newspaper reporter and photographer on board The Compton Millsaps to get out of the sun. The reporter and photographer interviewed the crew and took pictures while we ate the pizza S. C. had brought us. We showed them our gear, maps, navigation rules book, Mel’s journal and the fish we had caught the night before. We told the reporter what life was like on board the raft.
When Sam and Lee returned with the groceries and fresh water, we loaded up and cast off at 2:15 p.m. Ellie, Sylvan and Emma were on board and did not want to get off. We got permission from Bambi to take them with us down the Yazoo to the Mississippi. S. C. brought Bambi along in his motor boat to bring the children back. All the way down the Yazoo they helped with the rowing. It took all three children to handle one of the sixteen-foot oars, but what they lacked in size, they more than made up for with enthusiasm. Mel declared that, if the rest of the crew would row with that level of intensity, we could be in Natchez before it got dark. At the river Ellie, Sylvan and Emma, with full support from the crew, made there best effort to get permission to finish the trip with us, but mom insisted they come back with her. S. C. took Bambi and the children back to the landing and returned with our life jackets that the children had borrowed. We thanked S. C. for the pizza and thanked him even more for the tow up the Yazoo.
At 2:35 p.m. we were back in the current rowing to get into position to come under the two bridges at Vicksburg. With the addition of Aaron and Dan, we now had a crew of seven—and six of them were Eagle Scouts. We radioed a towboat which was approaching the bridges from downstream and agreed to pass each other on two toots (starboard-to-starboard). Once we were safely past the bridges and the towboat Sam, Kevin, Brian, Aaron and Lee all jumped off the top deck and went swimming.
When we were just below the Baxter Wilson power plant, we saw the Ergon Boat Store boat approaching from upstream. The captain stepped out of the wheelhouse and obviously wanted to talk. There was no traffic on the river so the crew were lounging about or else jumping from the top deck and swimming. The captain looked puzzled.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No,” Mel replied.
The captain chuckled. “Well, you’re fixin’ to have lots of company,” he said.
“Why?” Mel asked.
“Because someone has made a 911 call about you to the Coast Guard. They reported that your craft was unsafe and appeared to be sinking,” the captain said.
The captain was satisfied from our leisurely attitude as well as from his observation of our craft that we were okay, and he left. Next came the Vicksburg Fire Department boat with an EMT on board. They were soon satisfied that we needed no help and left. Then came the Warren County Sheriff’s Department boat. They too were expeditiously convinced as to our safety and departed. Then the Ergon Boat Store boat returned. “Sheriff Pace wants phone numbers both on board and on shore,” he said. We gave him Ken McLemore and Mike Hindman’s numbers on shore and Kevin Hindman’s cell phone number on board the raft.
Not long afterward Sheriff Martin Pace called and talked to Kevin. “You boys don’t know what you’re doing,” he told Kevin. “You have no business being in the river on a craft like that.” (We don’t think Sheriff Pace had ever seen our craft.) “In a crosswind it will be impossible for you to avoid towboats,” he continued. (We believe he thought we had just gotten on the river at Vicksburg.) “All we’ll be able to do then is scrape you off the bottom of a barge,” Sheriff Pace concluded.
The crew became worried. “Do you think he’s going to make us get off the river?” they asked.
“There’s no law against being stupid,” Mel replied. “I don’t think he can.”
Kevin explained to Sheriff Pace that we had already traveled over 200 miles on the river without incident. He also explained that we had taken on two extra crew members and their gear in Vicksburg, so we were riding a little lower in the water. Sheriff Pace made a final plea for us to come in off the river. When that failed, he hung up.
At 5:00 p.m. it was a little hazy. There had been no towboat traffic since the Vicksburg bridges. We could see Baxter Wilson behind us and LeTourneau in front of us.
At LeTourneau we passed an upstream towboat pushing 42 barges. We had fun riding the huge waves. Some of the crew went in and swam with them.
At 5:45 p.m. a Petty Officer with the Coast Guard in Memphis called us about the 911 report. Sam talked to him and assured him we were okay. We let him know we had coordinated the trip with LTJG Melissa Owens in the New Orleans Coast Guard office. He told Sam someone had called from Vicksburg saying we only had a few inches of freeboard, water was washing over our deck, we appeared to be sinking, and our craft was unsafe. Sam assured him the report was not accurate. That was the last we heard about the 911 call. Mel agreed with the part about not enough freeboard. “The lumber company charged for every inch,” he declared.
At 6:00 p.m. we passed Diamond Lower Light, mile 424, the first light below LeTourneau. We already had steaks marinating in Italian salad dressing. Aaron set up the grill and started the charcoal. Sam set up the propane stove and boiled corn while Aaron cooked the steaks on the grill. At 8:00 p.m. we moored the raft on Davis Island across the river from the Cannon Point Lower Light, mile 418.3. We ate supper and had brownies for dessert that had been made by Sam’s aunt and given to us by Peggy at Vicksburg.
Sam and Dan set out a trotline. About midnight Sam and Aaron ran the line and caught a blue catfish that was estimated to weigh in excess of 20 pounds.
We were moored only about 30 yards outside of the channel so all night long we were rocked by towboat waves. Dan said it reminded him of being in the sailboat crossing the Atlantic Ocean on our Scout trip to the Bahamas.
CHAPTER 12: ENCOUNTER WITH A LARGE VENOMOUS REPTILE
Saturday, July 30, 2005, was our ninth day on the river. We were expecting an eventful day, as we would be making a stop at the Claiborne County Port.
Everyone was up at 6:00 a.m. Dan and Kevin ran the trotline and brought in two more catfish, one flathead and one blue.
Most catfish that come out of the river are either flatheads, blues or channels. Channel cats have speckled sides, and they are the same kind that are farmed commercially in the Delta. Blue cats have a distinctive blue color. Flatheads are also known as mud cats, yellow cats or tabby cats. They have a yellowish brown color and a flat head. Live bait is required to catch flatheads. Because they only eat live things their flesh is firmer and tastes better than any of the other types of catfish. Some people say a flathead will not bite a worm, but those people are wrong.
While Dan and Kevin took up the trotline, the rest of the crew took down the tents and Mel started the coffee. The waves from the towboats during the night had pushed us well up into the shallow water, and the entire crew had to push hard to free the pontoons from the sandy bottom. By 7:00 a.m. we were underway. Mel spoke on the cell phone with Celia Starnes who was planning to meet us at the Claiborne County Port. Mel estimated an 11:00 a.m. arrival.
There are a couple of spiders living aboard the raft. Every night they spin webs and catch insects. In the mornings while we are taking down our tents and stowing them away, the spiders take down their webs and crawl into holes in the railing for the day’s journey.
Aaron accidentally dropped the blue catfish back into the river as he was bringing it to Mel to clean. Mel cleaned the flathead catfish, examined the supply of fish already caught and cleaned, and declared that it would be “all you can eat night” aboard The Compton Millsaps that evening.
While cleaning up after finishing with the catfish, Mel dropped a five gallon bucket overboard. Thinking it was about to sink, Mel broke a safety rule and went into the river after it without donning his PFD (personal flotation device). Dan put on his PFD, jumped into the river and rescued the bucket. The crew took their time tossing the hapless Mel his PFD, and he put it on and swam back to the raft.
At the City Front in Vicksburg the day before, Kevin and Aaron had met a 69 year old “river rat” named Darrell. He lived in a tent on an island just above Natchez. He said he had tried living in government housing for a while, but it was too noisy and messy, so he moved back out on the river. He had come up to Vicksburg to pick up an outboard motor. He declared that he and Jesus were the only two males who ever lived that had never had any sex of any kind whatsoever. Darrell caught up with us at 9:15 a.m. at the northern tip of Middle Ground Island on his way back home. He was riding in three small john boats that he had tied together and powered by one small outboard motor. He let us take his picture before moving on.
At 9:40 a.m. we began rowing across the river to the Mississippi side to position ourselves to land at the Port. Everyone bathed to clean up for the stop. As we passed The Rock we called Jock and Lee Ann Carpenter to let them know we were below them.
At 11:00 a.m. we made an effortless stop on the revetment under the light at the Claiborne County Port. The river was so low that coming into the port to the boat ramp was not practical. The ramp was covered with mud. Waiting on us there were Mike and Kathy Hindman with their granddaughter, Georgia, Ken and Peggy McLemore with their dog, Dagger, Shirley and Willie Daigle, and Roy and Celia Starnes. Roy and Celia brought us lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. Shirley and Willie showed us the article about the raft trip from the July 28 Port Gibson Reveille and the article about the raft trip from the July 30 Vicksburg Post.
Brian Hindman abandoned ship at the Port leaving us with a crew of six to complete the voyage. Ken McLemore had already contacted a reporter named Molly with The Natchez Democrat who would meet us when we got to Natchez on Sunday.
At noon we left the Port and continued down river. There was a breeze out of the West, and we had to row to stay off the revetment on the Mississippi side.
At 1:30 p.m. we took a break from rowing to eat a cold lunch. The St. Joseph grain elevator was in sight downstream.
At 2:30 p.m. we passed the St. Joseph grain elevator. On the Mississippi side we saw a small motorboat with a tent pitched on it, and it was flying the skull and crossbones. Looking through our binoculars we could see two Hispanic males on board. They were taking turns holding the rain fly from their tent out to catch the wind as a sail.
At 5:00 p.m. as we were passing Rodney, we overheard the captains of two approaching towboats discussing us over the marine radio. The captain of the upstream boat told the captain of the downstream boat that there was a raft near the Mississippi bank. “I passed them seven or eight days ago just south of Helena,” he said. “I almost ran over them then. They must not be very bright.”
Kevin got on our radio. “This is the Boy Scout raft Compton Millsaps,” he said. “We’re gonna try to stay out of your way if we’re bright enough.”
The captain of the upstream tow advised that if we stayed near the Mississippi shore we would be out of the way. A few minutes later he called back to see if we still had our radio on. When Sam told him we did, he engaged us in conversation. He apologized for saying we weren’t too bright and asked if we were keeping a journal so we could write about our trip.
At 6:00 p.m. Mel began cutting up catfish for supper. At 7:15 p.m. Mel was still cutting up catfish, and it began to rain. The crew put up the fore and aft canopies and stored what needed to be kept dry. It only sprinkled for a short time.
Dan spotted a large snake swimming toward the raft. This was unusual as we were in midstream nearly a half mile from either shore. It had come from the Mississippi side. Dan and Sam both declared from the shape of its head that it was poisonous. Dan tried to discourage the snake from approaching the raft with an oar, but the snake was insistent, and it soon disappeared under the raft. The crew began to think about having to sleep on board the raft that night. No one felt comfortable about leaving this large poisonous reptile on board. Sam tried to use his video camera to spot the snake under the raft, but he was unsuccessful. Kevin launched a canoe and soon spotted the snake coiled atop the starboard pontoon. Kevin poked him with a paddle and got him back into the water under the raft. We rowed the raft away from on top of him. It was a poisonous snake alright—a large water moccasin. Kevin followed him in the canoe as he swam toward the Louisiana shore and took some photographs. The moccasin swam the entire Mississippi River—and not in a narrow part either. We were never sure whether the snake was already crossing the river or whether Mel had “called” him out to us by throwing bloody parts of the catfish he was cutting up into the water. One thing was for sure. By the time he got to the raft he was tired, and no amount of discouragement could keep him from taking a rest on our pontoon.
While we were involved with the snake, we drifted too close to a long rock dike extending out from the Waterproof Bar on the Louisiana side. We had to row hard to the East to get around it safely. Then we cut back to the West and came in behind the rock dike to tie up for the night. We beached the raft at 7:30 p.m. at mile 378—14 miles above Natchez. As it got dark we could see the lights of Natchez in the distance.
There was a nice breeze blowing and absolutely no mosquitoes. When we lit the Coleman lantern, no bugs even gathered around it.
Mel cooked the gar first, as Lee, Aaron and Kevin had never tasted it. All agreed it was as good as if not better than the catfish. It was indeed “all you can eat night” aboard The Compton Millsaps. Mel only cooked about 2/3 of the catfish fillets. Everyone ate their fill, and there was still plenty left to snack on in the morning.
Sam and Lee went to sleep right after supper. Kevin, Aaron, Dan and Mel stayed up and talked for a while, enjoying getting to sit out on their last night on the river with a nice breeze and no mosquitoes.
CHAPTER 13: NATCHEZ UNDER THE HILL
Sunday, July 31, 2005, was our tenth day on the river. We were expecting another eventful day, as we were scheduled to reach our final destination, Natchez Under the Hill.
Mel awoke at 6:00 a.m. He started coffee and washed the supper dishes before awakening the rest of the crew.
The river had dropped during the night, and The Compton Millsaps was stuck in the sand. The crew had to untie both canoes, empty the larger water containers, and push really hard to free her.
The crew was underway at 7:00 a.m. We were expecting to land at Natchez sometime between 12:00 and 1:00 p.m.
The weather was hazy and we met lots of upstream towboat traffic. The Judi passed us close to the “can” line, but she cut back on her engines to lessen her wake. We thanked her captain over the marine radio.
It was a lazy morning traveling river that was very familiar to both Mel and Sam. We made the 12:30 p.m. landing at the Silver Street boat ramp look easy, taking only a couple of strokes of the oars to bring the raft into position. Keith Benoist, the creator of the 42-mile Phatwater canoe/kayak race from Grand Gulf to Natchez, and Cliff Geter, the creator of the 22-mile BluzCruz canoe/kayak race from the Madison Parish Port to Vicksburg, were both there to greet us. Also present were Keith’s girlfriend, Melissa, Ken and Peggy McLemore, Shirley and Willie Daigle, Lisa McFatter, and a photographer from The Natchez Democrat.
The river was low. Our welcoming party had cleared revetment rocks off the lower part of the boat ramp to clear the way for our landing. Ken backed his truck down with the trailer we had borrowed from Mississippi Marine in Brookhaven, and the raft loaded easily. The crew put all the gear that would fit into the back of Ken’s truck, and tied the rest of it down on the raft for the ride back to Port Gibson.
The photographer took a photo which appeared on the front page of the Monday, August 1, 2005, edition of The Natchez Democrat.
In the men’s room at the Under the Hill Saloon, Aaron drew the raft on a bulletin board, and the crew all signed it.
CHAPTER 14: EPILOGUE
Several days after the raft trip ended Mel contacted Ricky Brown at Mississippi Marine of Brookhaven to discuss purchasing from them the trailer they had loaned us for the trip. Mel was surprised to learn that they had sold the trailer while the Scouts were on the river. Someone had bought it “sight unseen.”
This left Mel in a quandary about what to do with The Compton Millsaps. Without a trailer to store her on in dry dock, she would have to be put afloat. Mel called Mac Drake and obtained permission to moor The Compton Millsaps at his house at Lake Claiborne. Mel, Dan McFatter and Willie Daigle unloaded her at the boat ramp at Lake Claiborne, and Mel and Dan rowed her over to Mac and Ruth Ann Drake’s house and moored her near the bank.
Several weeks later Mac informed Mel that The Compton Millsaps appeared to be sinking. Mel got a chance to inspect her a few weeks after that, and Mac was right. She had sunk and partially capsized in the shallow water. The port pontoon had filled with water, and she was lying on her port side in about three feet of water with her starboard side high and dry.
Raising The Compton Millsaps was going to be a monumental task. We would need manpower to turn her back upright, mechanical expertise to pump the water out of the port pontoon, a trailer to put her on, and someone to weld the hole that had caused her to sink.
Mel began by acquiring the manpower. Unfortunately Troop 100 is suffering a severe shortage of Scouts. With some help from Eagle Scout, Rev. Michael Herrin, twelve Chamberlain-Hunt Academy cadets were secured.
Mel then called on his brother in law, Willie Daigle, for the mechanical expertise. Willie manufactured an apparatus he could screw into the plug at the rear of the pontoon that would allow us to pump air in and water out at the same time.
For a trailer Mel contacted his fellow Warrington Road Warbler, Parham Watkins, who lives at Lake Claiborne. Parham agreed to loan us his 24-foot pontoon boat trailer.
On Saturday, November 5, 2005, Mel met the cadets for breakfast at CHA, and they proceeded to Lake Claiborne. They tied ropes to the raft and waded out into the cold knee deep water. It took all 12 cadets and the officer who accompanied them to bring the raft back upright. While we were working a curious otter swam up and watched the proceedings.
Willie then attached his apparatus in the plug at the stern of the sunken pontoon, hooked it up to an air pump, and turned it on. It worked! Air was being pumped into the pontoon displacing the water and forcing it out of the drain hose. We determined that about a gallon of water per minute was coming out of the drain hose. This was going to take a while. There were many, many gallons of water in the sunken pontoon.
About three hours later, most of the water was out and the raft was floating fairly level. Mel and several of the cadets rowed it back across Lake Claiborne where Parham and Willie loaded it onto Parham’s trailer. While the raft was still on the incline of the boat ramp, we inserted a siphon hose into the plug at the back of the port pontoon and drained another 20 or 30 gallons of water out of it.
We determined that a combination of two things had caused the raft to sink. On the top of the port pontoon at the rear a weld had pulled loose where the support for the deck was attached to the pontoon. More importantly, the port pontoon had developed a slow leak below the water line amidships where it had been damaged by being hit by the channel buoy at Greenville. We had indeed been lucky that the leak didn’t develop while we were still in the river. A weld had also pulled loose on the starboard pontoon. The resulting hole was above the water line, but it still needed to be fixed.
Butch Spivey in Yokena had agreed to help with welding the leaks so we towed the raft up to his house and left it. Despite his best efforts, air pressure tests showed that both pontoons were still leaking. Just before Christmas Mel, Dan and Willie picked the raft up and towed it to Lynn Welding Shop on LeTourneau Road. They build aluminum boats for the State, and they were soon able to get both the port and starboard pontoons water tight.
Mel contacted Larry Cagle, the Camp Director for Hood Scout Reservation near Hazelhurst, and obtained permission to moor The Compton Millsaps in the lake at Camp Hood. Shortly after Christmas Mel, Dan and Willie picked the raft up from Lynn Welding, unloaded it in the lake at Camp Hood and returned the trailer to Parham. Larry Cagle is already making plans to use The Compton Millsaps at the waterfront next summer to teach rowing merit badge.
In retrospect the raft trip was a success. On the entire 10-day 300-mile journey, we never once got out the first aid kit even for so much as a band aid.
The fear expressed by many during our planning stage that we would be at the mercy of wind and current without a motor and in danger of being run over by towboats was unfounded. Towboats are very large, loud and slow. Even the downstream boats are only moving about ten miles per hour. There is no way that a towboat can sneak up on you. One never got within a mile of us that we were not well aware of its presence. With the marine radio we were able to communicate with the captains to be sure they were aware of our presence and to plan our courses so as to miss one another.
Channel buoys and rock dikes, on the other hand, did pose a problem. They are stationary objects, but they tend to sneak up on you. The river lulls you to sleep and then springs these obstructions on you. Constant vigilance is required to see them coming in time to maneuver away from them. As later events would show, we came very close to sinking our raft when we collided with the channel buoy at Greenville. Getting caught on the upstream side of a rock dike would have been just as bad.
After the experience with the test run, Mel had been concerned about lightning. Thunderstorms come up fast on the river. There is little time to get to the bank and seldom any shelter there either. While we were on the river, four Scout leaders at the National Jamboree died when they touched a pole they were raising to a power line, two Scouts on a camping trip in California were struck and killed by lightning, and two youths in Claiborne County were struck and injured by lightning in their own back yard. Fortunately for us the only lightning we saw was in the far distance. You just never know about lightning. You increase your risk of being struck by increasing the amount of time you spend outdoors, even if it’s in your own back yard.
Due to the insect problem coming through the Delta, there are better times of year to make a river trip than at the end of July. During the first half of November would probably be ideal.
There is no way to know for sure whether The Compton Millsaps will ever again ply the turbulent waters of the mighty Mississippi. But we do know for sure that for ten days during the summer of 2005 Sam McLemore, Kevin Hindman, Lee Tropp, Mel McFatter, Brian Hindman, Scott Stiffler, Dan McFatter and Aaron Smith brought her 300 miles from Helena, Arkansas to Natchez, Mississippi and experienced high adventure in the process. None of those crewmen will ever forget that trip, and they will surely amaze their grandchildren in years to come with hair raising tales of their true adventure.
THE END
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