Day Two – Tuesday- Paris Landing to Cuba Landing

            When one drives anywhere in Los Angeles one quickly becomes accustomed to a vexing phenomenon. Traffic slows, then stops. One makes the assumption there is a reason for it and as the car glacially crawls forward for an interminable amount of time, suddenly the jam clears and the open freeway beckons.  But there is no satisfaction for me because I want to know WHY we all had parked on that freeway for the past twenty minutes.  What caused that freeway parking lot?  I want to see a car and truck intertwined and dangling over the median, scattered fenders and bumpers strewn across four  lanes… flashing red lights…   but no.  There is nothing.  Nothing that satisfies my desire for a definitive answer.  I find this phenomenon highly frustrating in the extreme.  This morning a similar experience occurs when I start up my trusty old Perkins Diesel…. That d*#& tachometer immediately jumps to life.  Yesterday I ran all day without a tach guessing at my RPMs based on sound and speed. Now it is its normal solid steady self.  Not being well versed in electronics (or most any other useful skill set for that matter)  I had mentally prepared myself to do without the tach until I got to a place with an expert.  But now?  Now I will warily look at my tach with trepidation every single time I hit the starter switch.  One more vexing moment in a life with many questions and few answers.   

            Traveling at my cruising speed of seven or eight miles per hour, it is an uneventful 45 miles upriver to Cuba Landing.  It is however punctuated by our first big barge passing us “on the one.”  Whistle signals indicate passing intentions but in bright sunlight, radio communication is the preferred method.  “On the one” means the two approaching boats will pass each other port to port. (just like your car on a street)  “On the two” means they will pass starboard to starboard, a condition that sometime arises as a huge barge slides to the outside of a difficult turn in the river.  The skill level of a barge captain is a thing of beauty but passing him on port side would put one’s boat in very thin water if not in danger of being pushed up onto the bank by the unwieldy barges.  Something the barge captain doesn’t want to happen not because he worries about you or your boat, but because the paperwork would take him a week to complete!  In reality, after weeks of traversing the river channels and meeting and passing many barges both huge and small, every single captain was not only courteous to us tiny pleasure craft but downright helpful in making sure everyone was safe on the waterway.   True professionals.

First barge 

Arriving in the Cuba Landing Marina, we find it nearly empty and after scraping a little of Kristine’s varnish off of the port side rub rail maneuvering into a too tiny slip, we move the boat to a transient dock near the gas dock.  No one is around and the sign on the door says “closed Monday and Tuesday.”  If no one shows up before we leave in the morning I will stuff an envelope under the door with the slip rental fee.  It is far too early to tempt Karma by slipping out without paying even if no one is around.  While we tie up AURORA, the two sailboats we had passed the day before come into the same marina and drop an anchor in the bay.  When we take a walk through the wooded surroundings we run into GLASS SLIPPER’s owners.  James and Stacey (and Louie their family dog) who are from a marina just across Kentucky Lake from us and are also heading to warmer climes.  We laugh about being the only four Dems for a hundred miles in an otherwise sea of conservative red.  Once again my boater theory takes hold and we experience an immediate affinity for these two interesting folks and Louie, of course. We inquire of their next stop and they say Clifton Marina but we have plans to continue to a marina a few miles further up river. We invite them aboard to view AURORA (she is not a common style of boat in this part of the world and draws many a curious look) and they marvel at our warm teak interior even if it is messy.   Later that evening Kris and I discuss the fact that we may or may not see them again.  The boating lifestyle’s downside.    

Quiet and serene evening at Cuba Landing