I cut my boating teeth in canoes in Biloxi, MS many moons ago while I was in the Air Force. I often rented small outboards and canoes from the base marina that opened onto what is called the Back Bay. Biloxi is actually on a spit of land, one side ocean, the other side a bay connecting to rivers, defense manufacturing plants and the largest banana port in the world. That means many large barges frequently came through the Back Bay.
For the first year I stayed away from the barges in my teeny, weeny boats. Then, one day I was leaving the marina and I didn't want to wait ages for a tug with several barges way off in the distance to clear the bay through the channel - 15 minutes or so. I'm now a world-class paddler, so I can beat that slow tugboat, right?
I crank up my "motor" to its full 2 or 3 knots and head out. Boy, that bay got wider and wider as the minutes clicked by. I'm finally inside the channel markers and I realize that I've never seen barges close up. I mean, really close up. They are, well, kind of huge. And, er, fast. I mean faster than me and my canoe. A lot faster. And wide. Really wide.
Now I'm seeing scenes of one of my favorite old movies, PT-109. I'm committed in the middle of the barges. No way they are going to stop or turn. I'm at the full speed of a 20-some year old paddling for his life. And the bow wave is starting to rock the canoe.
I love canoeing because it taught me many things. I learned patience 'cause you can only go so fast. I also learned that it isn't over until the fat lady sings, usually when fighting out of a surprise undercurrent or whirlpool with human power. As I shot out from in front of those HUGE barges on their bow wake I learned something that I thought I already knew: don't race trains across a train crossings, I mean barges across a channel. And, that land mass is probably miles away and not yards. Fortunately, I felt more stupid than macho as I sat there bobbing around for 15 minutes with my heart racing. I doubt if the tug would have even realized they had squished little ol' me.
After that, I bought a trolling motor for crossing the bay and I used barges as viewing attractions not dueling partners.
For the first year I stayed away from the barges in my teeny, weeny boats. Then, one day I was leaving the marina and I didn't want to wait ages for a tug with several barges way off in the distance to clear the bay through the channel - 15 minutes or so. I'm now a world-class paddler, so I can beat that slow tugboat, right?
I crank up my "motor" to its full 2 or 3 knots and head out. Boy, that bay got wider and wider as the minutes clicked by. I'm finally inside the channel markers and I realize that I've never seen barges close up. I mean, really close up. They are, well, kind of huge. And, er, fast. I mean faster than me and my canoe. A lot faster. And wide. Really wide.
Now I'm seeing scenes of one of my favorite old movies, PT-109. I'm committed in the middle of the barges. No way they are going to stop or turn. I'm at the full speed of a 20-some year old paddling for his life. And the bow wave is starting to rock the canoe.
I love canoeing because it taught me many things. I learned patience 'cause you can only go so fast. I also learned that it isn't over until the fat lady sings, usually when fighting out of a surprise undercurrent or whirlpool with human power. As I shot out from in front of those HUGE barges on their bow wake I learned something that I thought I already knew: don't race trains across a train crossings, I mean barges across a channel. And, that land mass is probably miles away and not yards. Fortunately, I felt more stupid than macho as I sat there bobbing around for 15 minutes with my heart racing. I doubt if the tug would have even realized they had squished little ol' me.
After that, I bought a trolling motor for crossing the bay and I used barges as viewing attractions not dueling partners.