Our time with the tugboats ended all too soon. We miss seeing them gliding, ghostlike, up and down the Mississippi. Often we didn’t really hear them so much as sense their presence. The deep, visceral, thrum-thrum-thrum of their engines seemed to come up through the soles of my feet until my whole body vibrated to their music.
They came in all sizes, shapes and colors. Some of the little guys (with only one large diesel engine) remind me of the children’s books like Little Toot that we used to read to our kids.
Others like the Alix Anne Eckstein of Marquette Transportation or the Capt. Gregory Smith were enormous, and apparently had room for a number of crew.
The Madeline and the Karen Ann were painted to match their barges.
Some, like the Sheryl, were probably named for wives, daughters or girlfriends.
Others, like the Jim Barton, seemed to carry the name of the captain.
No matter, day or night we enjoyed watching them all.
We look forward to returning to the banks of the Mississippi. We’ll have to watch the level of the river, though. This sign in our campground serves as a reminder what can happen when the Mississippi floods.
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