We pulled out of the Big Basin Marina, adequate, but not a place we plan to revisit, a little after 7 am this morning, with the Dresden Lock just 5 miles downstream.
With a small delay, we were able to get in and out and continue on our merry way. The scenery was prettier, at least for awhile, than the industrial environment we’ve seen the last few days. Kind of like Pt. Wentworth, Ga., we deem it as a necessary evil. Not pretty, but essential to the economy for us all.
The changing of the colors was one of our hopes for this leg of our journey.
We enjoyed the flat waters, a mix of sunshine, and the changing colors of the leaves. For the most part, it was a better than expected vista, as we had been warned that this was not the pretty part of the Great Loop. We have hoped for the best and expected the worst, continuing on the South and Westward route. Today’s journey covered the Illinois and DesPlaines Rivers. Thus far, it’s been all downstream, so our gas (diesel) mileage and speed has been excellent. With the more speed, we get to spend more time waiting at locks. I have to remind myself occasionally, I could be sitting at my desk, estimating a sprinkler job, and wondering how I’m going to make payroll this week. This is good, and I’m not complaining.
We arrived at the Marseilles Lock just before noon. I made the routine call to the dock, advising of our presence, and seeking an estimated time for locking through. The lock master advised me the barge traffic was heavy but he was relatively certain he could get us through…today. “Come on up close to the lock and stay near to the last red buoy. We’ll see what we can do,” I was told. Taking a deep breath, and remembering what my fellow Loopers had already experienced, I pulled up near that last red buoy and dropped the anchor. A short 3 hours later, the lock master called and said we could come on through.
Our first bald eagle since the Hudson River, he waited patiently with us at Marseilles Lock. He grew bored after a while and moved on.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, with the exception of the occasional tow/barge traffic. These guys can be intimidating, but we have become accustomed to seeing them, so we don’t get quite as nervous as we did, whether meeting them or passing them.
These sites are commonplace, unless their bigger and longer. Their “prop wash”, as it is called, can really make your boat do crazy things after you pass, or if you catch up to one of them. Not fun navigating.
After locking through Marseilles, we had one more lock to possibly get through before day’s end: the Starved Rock Lock. Having met another boat, who had waited 5 hours at the lock where we waited 3, we agreed to push together and try to get through before dark. We arrived just before 5 pm and saw the same barge we had waited on previously. The captain on the other pleasure craft radioed the lock, asking what was the estimated time for our passage. “Probably ’bout 3 hours ‘fore we can get you through,” was the response. As I started my U-turn in the river, I was soon being followed by our new buddy boat, the Casa Marina II. We doubled back to a marina about a mile upstream (Starved Rock Marina) and tied up stern to stern at the fuel dock, because the marina entrance was too shallow for our boats.
So we are tucked in for the night just upstream of Starved Rock. We called the lock master tonight, and he assured us he could get us through at 7 am tomorrow morning. That assurance is based purely on the absence of barges, at that time. We look forward this section being behind us. This little skinny thin-skinned boy is ready to find some warm weather. I didn’t work 45 years, retire, and spend half my net worth on a boat, just so I could be cold. Come on Florida!