Hazel: Bad to Worse

We will start with a few highlights to kick off today’s diary, then get down to business. Around Red Wing on our stretch of the Mississippi, the wing dams stay submerged and rarely make an appearance. But further south, they’re a different story, larger, clearly visible, and safely out of the way. You’ll never accidentally run over one down there, which I really appreciate.

I know, I know, I keep saying no more house photos. But credit where it’s due: I admire a man who builds on solid rock.

“Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:

And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.”

—Matthew 7:24–25 (KJV)

We also had an unexpected and mesmerizing encounter: a swarm of pelicans circled us in perfect synchrony. They moved with such grace, it felt like watching a choreographed ballet in the sky.

Along our way, we passed through Grafton, possibly one of the world’s smallest towns, but proudly flying one of the world’s largest flags! I had to also include this photo because it instantly took me back to our Costa Rica vacation, where that wild waterslide zipped us through the jungle canopy. (Yes, the Olson clan did go down it, and it was worth it!) Well, Grafton’s got its own version, this one winds through the oak and elm forest along the Mississippi. Different trees, same thrill!

Another positive from the day was viewing the limestone bluff faces plunge dramatically into the water, creating a striking and beautiful scene.

As we approached Alton, Illinois, I couldn’t quite tell if those were floating restaurants or old boats repurposed into floating restaurants. Either way, they made for an intriguing welcome.

We pulled under the Alton bridge to refuel and take on water, though Peter and I clearly need a crash course in water conservation. We went through nearly 200 gallons in under ten days!

On the bright side, Hazel continues to impress with her fuel efficiency. From Lake City to Alton, she burned just 55 gallons. That’s considered excellent, especially given the relentless headwinds we battled for days on end.

This marked the beginning of things slowly shifting in the wrong direction for us. In the photo, you can spot the lock and dam from the Alton Marina, right before the wind really began to howl. We called ahead and were told to come on down, so we did… into sustained headwinds of 30 knots, with gusts reaching 38.

We waited nearly two hours in that wind, holding position and watching the AIS light up with tugboats and barges all around us. It was a test of patience, grit, and Hazel’s steady handling.

The final lock and dam, Lock 28, turned out to be our most frustrating locking experience of the entire journey. When we radioed ahead, the lockmaster on duty was less than welcoming. His exact words: “There’ve been people parked out here for 15 hours, so you’re just gonna have to wait your turn.”

And wait we did. For five long hours, Peter and I held position in the current, watching the clock and the sky. When the shift finally changed, a new lockmaster came on, his accent suggested he might be Canadian, and within minutes, he had us moving through the lock. A small mercy after a long, tense wait.

The delay, however, had consequences. Unlike the big commercial tugs, which are fully outfitted for night operations, we lack the electronics, visibility, and maneuverability to safely navigate after dark, especially in heavy traffic. But with no other option, we were forced to enter St. Louis in the middle of the night.

If you know St. Louis, you know it’s no place to be adrift after dark. There’s nowhere to tie up, no safe anchorage, just a wall of industral properties and one of the busiest stretches of waterway we’ve seen. It was a white-knuckle arrival we won’t soon forget.

This was our holding pen, where the lock master parked us from 3:00 PM to 8:00 PM. Then, like a maple-syrup-scented miracle, the Canadian gentleman waved us through. Go Canada!

Apologies to anyone hoping for postcard-perfect shots of St. Louis, what we’ve got are the gritty, late-night kind. Peter and I snapped these between dusk and dawn as we navigated from Lock & Dam 28 to the southern edge of the city. Not our brightest idea, but we had no choice, there was nowhere to tie up, and the river doesn’t wait.

Peter was a rockstar on the bow, armed with a handheld spotlight and flashlight, calling out barges, boats, and the occasional river oddity. Meanwhile, our steering decided to throw a tantrum, we had almost no control of the helm. It turned into one of the most nerve-wracking passages either of us has ever faced.

Picture this: threading a sailboat through the heart of St. Louis in the dead of night, surrounded by massive barges crisscrossing the Mississippi, their spotlights sweeping like search beams. It was chaos. When we finally dropped anchor, somewhere around 1 AM, we exhaled a collective sigh of relief, dodged the minefield, and collapsed into sleep.

Morning brought a new mission: Hazel needed help. We dove into repairs, tightening cables, realigning the steering, and by some miracle, it held steady all day. Victory! But of course, boat life giveth and boat life taketh away, just as the helm was fixed, the autopilot decided to quit.

We got the steering sorted first thing Tuesday morning and shoved off with fresh resolve. The river, as always, offered up its quiet beauty, but it’s a beauty tempered by the weight of industry. Commerce still churns through these waters daily, and the scars of its past linger.

Rusting metalworks line the banks, ghosts of factories and landings that likely thrived a century ago. No one’s come back to reclaim them. Even barge companies seem to abandon their lost vessels without a second thought. The shoreline is littered with these forgotten hulks, silent reminders of a river that’s carried both prosperity and neglect.

A little river humor to start: I felt genuinely sorry for this crew, completely broken down and getting nudged upriver by a tugboat like a stubborn shopping cart.

Then there was this house. Unique doesn’t quite cover it. I’m fairly certain it violates every zoning law ever written. It reminded me of something a certain person might’ve cobbled together in Wacouta. Maybe the owner is also the head of zoning for his township, who’s going to argue with that view?

Now, tell me, do you lean toward the old stone classic nestled into the limestone bluff, or the noble estate perched high on the hill? Personally, I picture Crystal and me in that timeless stone home, weathered and warm, with the river rolling below.

Hazel hit a personal best today, 8.4 knots! I couldn’t grab the shot, but trust me, she was flying. Fastest I’ve ever seen her move!

A few photo-worthy moments from the day: we passed the Menard Correctional Center on the Illinois side of the river. I included that one especially for Dad and Holly, thought they’d appreciate the landmark.

We also caught sight of crews dismantling the old bridge and constructing a sleek new span. It’s always fascinating to see the river’s infrastructure evolve in real time.

As for Chester, Illinois… let’s just say it didn’t charm our socks off. Of all the small towns we’ve drifted past, this one felt a bit underwhelming.

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations! You’ve officially survived one of Hazel, Paul, and Pete’s most patience-testing chapters. It’s been a ride.

I’m adding a few more photos and videos here, including Paul’s daily ritual: trying to capture barges so massive they refuse to fit in a single frame. It’s become a running joke, and honestly, I admire the commitment.