The riverboat captain is a storyteller. Captain Don Sanders shares the stories of his long association with the river — from discovery to a way of love and life. This a part of a long and continuing story.
By Capt. Don Sanders
Special to NKyTribune
The view from my window, high above Aurora Bend on the Middle Ohio River, changes each morning with these recent freezing temperatures. Large patches of floating ice look more like protruding shorelines than they do frozen water. Still, I don’t anticipate a fully frozen river as I remember from 1977 and 1978. Not enough days lie ahead of freezing weather forecasts to complete the process thoroughly.
Although commercial towboat traffic seems to have lessened below my window, the U. S. Army Corps of Engineers, Louisville District, recently released this statement:
“At this time, there have been no unexpected closures or impacts to navigation within our area of responsibility on the Ohio River.”
Still, these days are brutal on the river and not fit for the casual ‘greenhorn’ to mess about on or near its unforgiving waters. Which reminds me of when the Ohio River last froze solid, and thousands freely trod on the solid ice while I stayed ashore and watched in wonder from former Front Street in my hometown across the river from Cincinnati. To this day, I don’t regret not following the lemmings onto the frozen river. My instincts, born of years, even then, on the river, told me better.
While I watched the throngs playfully scampering on the ice, a strange, foreboding rumble suddenly appeared from below the downstream bridge as a towboat shoving barges, with the lead barge having an ice-breaking bow. On came the tow toward the crowd on the ice without slowing down, blowing a warning horn, or showing any regard for the safety of the lubbers stranded there.
As a wave of hysteria swept over the multitude, people panicked and scrambled toward the nearest shore, safely away from the cracking, crumbling ice beneath the reinforced bow, which was ripping a wide path through ice over a foot thick. Several minutes later, after the passage of the ice-breaking tow, the bridges spanning the river quickly filled with those seeking their own side of the river.
Fortunately, no casualties occurred. Nearly half a century later, I can still hear the “CRUNCH – CRUNCH – CHRUNCH,” as the icebreaker suddenly appeared, cutting a watery swath through the revelers playing gleefully on the frozen Ohio River as I watched from ashore.
Just a few days later. After the icebreaker barge ripped an open path through the ice of the frozen Ohio River, I found myself with my Cincinnati buddy, John Combs, a fan of the river and old-house contractor-deluxe, on the riverbank at Hamilton Landing, Kentucky, several miles below Rabbit Hash. Great sheets of ice clung to the shore thick enough to support both John and me. A few yards offshore, broken ice flowed downstream in the swift current.
Suddenly, I became obsessed with the strongest urge to scamper out onto the ice. The same urge seemed to enchant my friend. But as we looked at each other without saying a word, another quick towboat shoving a single barge hurried by. The ensuing swells generated by the passing tow came crashing ashore, breaking loose the ice clinging there. Within seconds, the floating sheets broke apart from the riverbank and went swirling and careening downstream in the rushing tide.
“If we’d gone out on the ice,” John mentioned rather casually, “We would be dying about now.”
Nearly 30 years ago, the paddlewheel casino boat GRAND VICTORIA II was a new addition to Rising Sun, Indiana, at Mile 506 on the Middle Ohio River, Rabbit Hash’s closest neighboring town. That winter was gruesome. Still, the paddlewheeler kept cruising in sub-freezing temperatures to maintain a high “cruise rate” rather than remaining “dockside” for the frigid weather.
The massive 52 x 26-foot, 1500 HP paddlewheel had to be kept turning, even while tied up at the dock, to keep it from freezing solid. The frigid river water caused an estimated tens of tons of clear ice to accumulate on the steel and wooden wheel.
Deck Mate, later Captain, Roger Hilligoss, while inspecting the slowly turning paddlewheel between trips, narrowly avoided a huge chunk of ice that broke free. Hearing of Cap’n Roger’s narrow escape, I notified my superiors, who ordered the boat tied up until better weather. Later that year, the center paddlewheel bearing failed —possibly due to the extra weight accumulated over the past winter.
The coldest river I worked on was the Fox River flowing through Elgin, Illinois, when I was a Captain on the faux sidewheeler, GRAND VICTORIA I, before the Rising Sun GRAND VIC. One morning, I watched the river freeze solid, going from liquid to ice thick enough to drive a car on in just three hours.
During my last working day there, I took the 330-footer out into the ice for a final ride. Coming ahead, the gigantic casino boat had no trouble crushing and moving through the frozen Fox. But when I reached the end of navigation, where the boat waited to return to the dock, I thrust the hull flat against the ice sheet, expecting it to crumble.
Instead, the ice compressed and screamed, louder and more chilling than I’d ever heard it. I was sure that everyone inside the casino would come running out to find out what the screaming was all about. Luckily, no one did. However, when the boat returned to the dock, the lovely, red-headed General Manager was waiting, demanding to know why I cruised. Actually, it was my call, not hers, but I didn’t mention that to the “boss lady.”
Some of the best days I’ve enjoyed on the river were aboard my own boats, the SUN*FISH on the Tennessee River, and the Rafter CLYDE, my paddlewheeler that Everett Dameron and I brought down by the Mississippi and Ohio, from Alma, Wisconsin, to Aurora Bend in 2012.
Although both boats were Wisconsin-built beauties, the most livable was the SUN*FISH, a venerable floating home. I only knew the FISH at Decatur, Alabama, where winters are typically milder than in the Middle Ohio River Valley, where I harbored the CLYDE. In fact, while I was aboard the SUN*FISH one winter morning, the morning radio news announced that a light snow had blanketed the Decatur area. Like someone who’d never seen snow before, I rushed outside to gawk at the sparse patches of fluffy white stuff like it was my first time.
The CLYDE and I shared many bitter wintry days in the backwaters of the Ohio, which froze while the river remained liquid. All the little paddlewheeler had for heat was a small electric “micro-furnace.” This heater raised the interior temperatures several degrees, but the cabin was never “crisp and cozy” by any standards. Still, I enjoyed my wintry days aboard the CLYDE and cherish those memories.
Captain Don Sanders is a river man. He has been a riverboat captain with the Delta Queen Steamboat Company and with Rising Star Casino. He learned to fly an airplane before he learned to drive a “machine” and became a captain in the USAF. He is an adventurer, a historian and a storyteller. Now, he is a columnist for the NKyTribune, sharing his stories of growing up in Covington and his stories of the river. Hang on for the ride — the river never looked so good.
Purchase Captain Don Sanders’ The River book
Capt. Don Sanders The River: River Rat to steamboatman, riding ‘magic river spell’ to 65-year adventure is now available for $29.95 plus handling and applicable taxes. This beautiful, hardback, published by the Northern Kentucky Tribune, is 264-pages of riveting storytelling, replete with hundreds of pictures from Capt. Don’s collection — and reflects his meticulous journaling, unmatched storytelling, and his appreciation for detail. This historically significant book is perfect for the collections of every devotee of the river.
You may purchase your book by mail from the Northern Kentucky Tribune — or you may find the book for sale at all Roebling Books locations and at the Behringer Crawford Museum and the St. Elizabeth Healthcare gift shops.
Click here to order your Captain Don Sanders’ ‘The River’ now.