A Houseboat in Kentucky

Last week was spent without benefit of internet, a singularly strange affliction in the present-day world. Mark, our granddaughter Billie, and I joined nine members of Mark’s family for a houseboat perambulation of the man-made serpentine Cumberland River deep in the heart of rural Kentucky. The original river pre-existed its current massive presence, winding through a deeply cut valley. A project begun in 1941 to construct a dam for hydro-electric power was shelved for several years because of the war effort, reaching its completion in 1956. The resulting back-up of the river spread its reach throughout the many “fingers” of adjoining valleys, creating a vast expanse of dedicated recreational waters.

Several months ago Mark’s brother, Terry and his gal, Judi conceived and promoted the idea of renting one of the six-bedroom houseboats available from a marina on the north side of the river, and filling it with interested family members. And so it came to pass. Our company consisted of the following: the men: Mark and two of his brothers, Bob and Terry; the women: Judi, our nieces Jennifer and Stephanie, and me; what I thought of as “the girls,” (begging your pardon, young women!) two more nieces, now in their early twenties, Dana and Natalie; and, the kids: Billie, 10, and Jennifer’s guys – Nathan, 10 and Lauren, 8. Because there is a total absence of human habitation on the river (other than a couple of extremely difficult to find marinas complete with stores stocked mainly with beverages – not liquor as it is a dry county – a variety of chips, and some dry goods), there is no possibility of procuring food or potable water while aboard. This circumstance required pre-boarding logistics comparable to outfitting a small army. It was ably accomplished by Jennifer, who weeks before we embarked, developed a menu for each of the four days on board, and distributed the needed components among the adult participants. Our contribution contained disparate ingredients: some cooked chicken, lettuce, eggs, paper towels, mayo, basil, croissants, hamburger meat, buns, and so on. We purchased most of our goods at Lexington, Kentucky on the morning before meeting the others at our marina near Jamestown. We also brought along a couple of cases of beer and a multitude of water bottles.

Mark, Billie and I left Toronto on Sunday morning, crossing the border at Windsor/Detroit around lunchtime. Elizabeth had given me a letter of permission for us to take Billie into the USA but as we neared the point of entry I could not find it. (I was certain that I had placed it in my purse but no, it was not to be found.) Luckily the border guard had a sense of humour about the situation. He asked Billie a few questions about her relationship to Mark and me which she answered straightforwardly and he let us through! A decided relief. We drove on to just over the border of Ohio and into Kentucky that afternoon, spending the night at a well-appointed Embassy Suites (even a swimming pool for Billie!) directly opposite Cincinnati. It was astonishing how much hotter it was there than in Toronto; the direct sun left one feeling entirely broiled and desiccated. We experienced the same gruelling heat the next day on the landing area at our marina, as we loaded cart after cart with our paraphernalia. Happily the boat was air conditioned; without this modern adaptation to the slings and arrows of nature we would all have perished early in the trip.

This particular marina owns about twenty houseboats, many of which were readying for launch at about the same time. When we had everyone on board, a marina worker came to give “the captains,” i.e., the men, a rapid-fire rundown on how to operate the boat. A pilot boarded to steer us out into the main channel; hopping onto his own little motorboat, he then waved us off onto our great four day boating adventure. Cruising the river was spectacularly beautiful. Its broad expanse was bordered with undulating hills of rich forest greenery. Cooling breezes filled the entire vessel, calming our collective working-hard-to-get-here-and-get-going nerves. The kids discovered the upper story hot tub and made that their temporary swimming pool as we cruised. The guys collaborated on how to manage the operation of the boat which was already showing signs of motor troubles. Decisions had to be made about where to dock for the night, how to go about docking, and once a site was chosen, how to test it for safety from strong breezes and for sufficient privacy from other roaming river vehicles. Mark, Terry, and Bob are all relatively experienced people with boating and with the care and nurture of motors, but the operation of a boat this size was clearly novel for all of them. Their nervous tension, especially when choosing adequate sites, docking, and re-launching, was palpable. Normally quiet and laid-back with one another, their collective responsibility for the boat and the lack of one clearly experienced leader resulted in powerful exchanges about the wisdom of various manoeuvres. Gratefully, the rest of us left this arena to them.

Docking for the night entailed driving up right onto the consistently shale river edge and tying the boat at a right angle to the shore with heavy nylon ropes looped over whatever close-by trees were available. Out of the main channel, sequestered in a protective cove, we generally were deprived of the river’s breezes, becoming dependent upon the boat’s capacity for air conditioning. Once we were landed, however, the men could relax, everyone could swim, and we could settle into an evening of supper, chat, some card games, and later for the kids, a DVD on the provided TV set. Jennifer’s planning skills allowed a regular flow of easy to prepare, nourishing, and plentiful meals and snacks. We truly wanted for nothing. However, life on board was intense because of the closeness of quarters and the lack of options for escape. The six “bedrooms with queen sized beds” consisted almost entirely of the beds themselves with but a scant amount of additional space for ones belongings. The landing places were narrow shale “beaches” which abutted high ridges of forest, discouraging any idea of a walk. Exercise consisted of swimming – during the day in the direct glare of an unforgiving sun, or, in waddling into the kitchen/living room for another snack and/or drink. Everyone gradually found his or her own recipe for personal space or privacy. We learned how to co-exist in these tight quarters in ways that accepted one another’s particular accommodations. Periodically we had moments, often after an evening meal outside on the front deck, when we (the adults) sat quietly together as the night deepened, telling stories about the family or about ourselves. These were the most precious times. At the end of our four days everyone was ready to leave. It had been long enough. It was by no means an easy time for anyone, but it was good. The entire experience, its highs and lows, highlighted for me the strengths of this family and the love that binds all of us to one another. I am grateful to be a part of it.