Sunday morning found us fogbound in downtown Winona. Pretty, but impossible to navigate. One of the statutory faults when operating on the river is: if you have an accident running in the fog, you are at fault, nothing else need be said. The able crew, who did not stay up looking at darkened beer signs and thinking of the Honkey Tonk across the River until 0300, were up and raring to go. They fetched the Ace Deckhand(Ace) and asked him to impart his knowledge of when the shut out fog would disappear. 1000 the Ace replied, with nary a hesitation. He was really thinking of Buck the Engineer, who helped wait up for the fog until 0300. Buck, sleeping down in the sleeping quarters in Hell next to the screaming Cat generator, needed every bit of sleep he could get. At 0930 the the high Captain, as all those Captains before him, gently tried to get the able crew motivated to depart the Port without them jumping ship. The nervous pacing of the Captain caused most of the crew to scatter and check what the Galley Wenches had prepared. Three separate delicious egg dishes motivated the crew to cast off, top around, and head south to the final Port of the first leg. LaCrosse, Queen City of the Coulees.
Only 2 locks today, the fog burned off, and we were making good time, almost 7 MPH. We soon came upon Lock #6 and the quaint little town of Trempeleau, a town where the main highway going through it is the Mississippi River. The roads that lead into Trempeleau, go there, to get one to the River. No one just passes through Trempeleau on the road to somewhere else. There is comfort in knowing people are there because they want to be, not because a road runs through or by it.

The warm sunny day on the water with cold refreshments sometimes causes strange thoughts to surface and sure enough just before we got to Lock #7 a couple of the female members started talking trash about how they could handle the lines in the locks. The able male deck crew looked to the Ace and he agreed to the swap and told the crestfallen men, that they should stand by to assist, if need be. In the end only one stepped forward and she shall remain anonymous, but if you go through the crew list, I am sure the following description of locking through the Dresbach Lock, will enlighten some of our readers. Ace stated that she would probably get more assistance from the lockmen than he got at Lock 6. "You think?", she said with a knowing grin. The first thing was fitting her with the safety work/life vest under the expert eyes of the experienced Lockman. He had seen many "life vests" fitted to a female form in his lock! "The vest is too small at the top", she cried. "No time to adjust the vest", Ace said. "You will just have to pull your stuff up over the top", Ace called out, with the approving nod of the eagle-eyed Lockman. When the lock had dropped down to its' limit, the line would have to be worked off of the kevel/fitting on the deck. "Now, she said watch this", as she pushed her stuff back down to allow an excellent view of cleavage to the Lockman, who steadfastly refused to relinquish his post in case he needed to assist the green deckhand. Ace explained to her the time honored deckhand skill of throwing the heavy lock line off of the head 12-15 feet above her on the wall. He expressed a strong opinion that it would be impossible for a greenhorn like herself to accomplish. "Come on!", cried the able Lockman, "I know you can do it". She gave a half-assed flip of the line and it miraculously flipped off of the head at the feet of the Lockman. With a wave to her new buddy, she shrugged out of the too tight work vest and stated that she knew she could handle it. Chastened the Ace once again realized he had faced the awesome power of a woman's "charms" and coiled up the line.
Piloting of the mighty Fat Lady Pie proved to be a challenge. The boat was designed to push barges and the steering rudders were set up to provide steering to several thousand pounds of barges and cargo in front. The only thing we were pushing was water and it allowed very little resistance. The most minute movement of the steering control would swing the boat from side to side. To those early observer bank pilots who commented on the serpentine movement of the boat through the St. Paul Harbor, I challenge them to come aboard and keep that barn door rudder swinging beast on track.
The usual steering personnel in the pilothouse realized that The Queen City of the Coulees was in sight, they would be soon going home, and there was still too much liquid ballast aboard. They turned over the steering duties to the Ace. The Ace had never liked piloting a boat, his finely tuned temperament wasn't made for a career where the daily ingestion of several packs of cigarettes, pots of coffee, and the large bottles of Maloxx didn't keep their corpses from looking like men in their 60's when they had died in their forties. Sure enough, they turn over the boat right above the LaCrosse railroad bridge and after nervously telling the bridge he was northbound when he was really southbound, Ace was informed that a westbound train had already crossed the fai-safe switch and he could no longer swing. it is a time honored tradition for pilots to test new and nervous pilots with a southbound lock or bridge. Ace had stepped into it now. He had a boat that couldn't be put into reverse on the starboard engine and he just knew that train engineer was going slow with a 100 unit train to check out Ace's deodorant. The day Abraham Lincoln and the railroad he worked for, beat steamboat men in Rock Island. they got to build bridges in every bend, rivermen became cursed.
We finally landed at city front in LaCrosse. They have one of the most accessible and pretty parks you'll ever find. The sightseers came from everywhere. It is not often a towboat with a For Sale sign shows up. As some of the crew waited for the cars to come and bring them home, the liquid ballast disappeared and the friendly citizens chatted and asked questions. One interesting gentleman and his toothless crony stopped. What was interesting is, I believe he was mistaken on what year he was living in. As he talked we noticed he gesticulated with his hemostat and a roach.
The first wave of crew departed and the balance of the crew went uptown to eat and check out the historic downtown. The last entry is only this: $5 dollars for all the beer or rail drinks you can drink. Nothing else need said!