December 1965, a close call…..
Feb 18, 2022 11:00:20 #
December 1965, a close call…..when it’s almost but not quite your time!
How a warm December morning turned out to be a bone chilling life threatening winter afternoon!
True story, it happened to me….
My friend Danny’s father had a camp on North Pass, between Lakes Pontchartrain and Maurepas. Danny and I both adventurous, were into amateur scoober diving at the time. He’d often tell me the story about a sunken civil war ship located on Lake Maurepas near the mouth of the Tickfaw River, it was from a story that an old commercial fisherman, friend of his father, had told time in time again. “In the winter months when the water was low and clear, he’d say, this sunken ship was visible and you could see a cannon on the deck”.
This tale was gnawing at our curiosity, so we decided when the water depth and clarity was right that winter, we’d try and locate this boat with the intention of retrieving the cannon.
This is how our adventure began, Danny had to be at work for 10 o’clock, so that didn’t give us much time for searching, but the water conditions were right, we had the boat hooked up and ready to leave well before daylight. We launched between the railroad and the old Hwy 51 bridge that was now used for a fishing pier. It was still dark as we putted to the main channel around the pier. There was a tug boat tied off at the end of the pier with the name “Geronimo” posted on it side, high atop the pilot house whirled a huge radar sweep, It was a warm morning for December and the captain was leaning out the open window. It is just starting to break day and I yelled up to the captain, “what is the straightest direction to the mouth of the Tickfaw River?”, he glanced at the radar screen and pointed, straight that away. I yelled thanks and we headed out rounding Jones Island to pick up and continue on the direction he pointed.
We reached our destination and the conditions were right, pretty sure we were in the right area but the angle of the light in the early morning caused a glare which hindered our vision. We searched as best we could and it was just about time to get back when we noticed that the lake was covered with fog between us and the landing, so in a small panic we rushed to get back in. The fog was light at first but as we traveled it thickened and we lost eyesight of our land bearing and we didn’t have a compass in the boat. Anyone who has ever tried to navigate through fog by boat can tell you about the dire straights we were in. Without your bearings is like walking around blindfolded, before long you’re lost, and lost we were. The lake isn’t that large, so we thought if we continued in a straight line we would surely come ashore somewhere but we traveled for miles and miles and never did find a shoreline.
We were in a small fiberglass runabout, maybe 15 foot if that long, the wind was starting to blow and the water was getting choppy, we were hoping that the fog would lift enough to get a clear land marker. As we continued in what we thought was a straight line for the longest, the motor started to buck and then died. I grabbed the tank and it was empty, we had used up all our fuel and the wind was blowing harder and the temperature was dropping fast. We looked for the anchor and apparently Danny’s young boys who were playing in the boat the evening before threw it out into his yard. Quickly we grabbed the paddles and nosed the boat into the waves as the temperature continued to drop and the whitecaps and then swells became larger. It must have been around 11 O’clock when we started paddling and without an anchor we had no choice, had that little boat got sideways, the next wave would have capsized it and we would have been history.
We were both young and had no idea of the weather that was moving in, it was a true blue Northerner and she was sinking her teeth as the temperature plummeted, our exertion from paddling was the only thing that kept us from freezing. We fought and fought, paddling and paddling, keeping her nose into the wind as the blowing mist felt like ice crystals and we were not dressed for winter.
Danny was wearing a heavy fleece lined suede vest, as we paddled for what seemed like an eternity the waves got higher and more furious to a point where Danny was thrown from the boat. Quickly I dropped my paddle and went to his aid, he had sunk but surfaced close enough to where I could reach his vests, I drug him back aboard by one hand. Guess my strength came from my fear, I told him not to do that again, “you’re not leaving me out here by myself”.
We quickly got back on the paddle’s to right the boat which nearly flipped, you really don’t know your strength or will, until you’re faced with possible demise. Millions of things run through your mind, they say before you die your life flashes before you in thoughts, well for those hours I spent bending that paddle I could have written a book. Never have my prayers poured out so genuinely and meaningful.
We continued to fight the paddles for what seemed like an eternity when we spotted a skinny fisherman’s pole sticking out of the water, it was about 4 o’clock and we used our last bit of energy to reach that little stake. We had about 25 foot of bow rope that Danny was able to tie to the pole, finally after five hours, we could put the paddles down. It was freezing but I was too exhausted to feel the cold. I looked at that little pole, our lifeline, bending with every wave knowing that it was a matter of time before it would pull out of the lake bottom and I had no strength to paddle anymore. My life was in the Good Lords hands, knowing he may call me at any minute. I told Danny that I was going under the bow to get straight with the Lord.
Poor Danny was freezing from falling in, he climbed under the bow and we laid back to back, both shaking from the cold trying to stay warm.
There was a small hole in the bow of the boat near my head, every time the wave would top the bow it would spray a mist in my face but I didn’t move, I didn’t care anymore, I knew that the little pole was holding us every time I got sprayed. I actually fell asleep for a brief moment, guess it was from exhaustion.
Danny remember that there was dry gauze in a first aid kit that was aboard, he crawled out from under the deck to wrap his feet with it.
It was right at dusk and Danny yelled, “there is a boat passing by”, I handed him my little 22 as I crawled out to see, thought it may have been just a cruel joke. But about 300 yards away there was a tug boat pulling three barges. As I handed him the rifle I said, “shoot for the pilot house, I’ll take the blame if you hit him, I’d rather die in prison than out here”.
I was hoping for a loud bang, but you could hardly hear the sound coming from the rifle. Danny put the rifle down and continued to wrap his feet. I picked up his heavy wet fleece vest and stood on the seat and waved it in total desperation, as I was frantically waving at the departing tug it flashed it’s huge light beam back at us three times, I fell to the seat speechless from a lump in my throat, knowing that the Good Lord just said, “it’s not your time,” I sat there for a moment before I was able to tell Danny that he saw me and blinked his light.
The tug pulling those three barges started to make a huge circle back in our direction, when it came close enough to make it out in the dark of the evening I couldn’t believe my eyes, on the side of the tug in big beautiful letters the name “Geronimo”, the same tug that gave us directions that morning.
As the tug pulled closer to our little boat the wave heights became really noticeable, one moment we were way below the barnacle line the next wave we were deck level, just even with those huge tires that they use for bumpers. I was watching and timing the waves and when we were eye level again, I leaped like Batman, and I grabbed hold to one of those tires and leaped onto the tug.
The captain called me to come up to the pilots deck, he wanted me to see something, he showed me the radar screen, he said we were no more than 6 feet off dead center of the lake. He thought we were the lakes center buoy and almost didn’t give us a glance, but said that he had caught something out of the corner of his eye, someone was waving something. “I can’t believe y’all were out there all day.” He said I don’t know what made me even cross in this weather and that the Coast Guard put out an alert around noon to be on the lookout for y’all, but said it was too rough for them to search.
After that, the captain told his cook to fix a meal, we hadn’t eaten or drank all day, that was the best 2 inch T-bone, mashed potatoes and gravy I have ever ate..
That Captain might not have known why he crossed those rough waters pulling those barges, but me and the Good Lord knows…..
Bootsie
How a warm December morning turned out to be a bone chilling life threatening winter afternoon!
True story, it happened to me….
My friend Danny’s father had a camp on North Pass, between Lakes Pontchartrain and Maurepas. Danny and I both adventurous, were into amateur scoober diving at the time. He’d often tell me the story about a sunken civil war ship located on Lake Maurepas near the mouth of the Tickfaw River, it was from a story that an old commercial fisherman, friend of his father, had told time in time again. “In the winter months when the water was low and clear, he’d say, this sunken ship was visible and you could see a cannon on the deck”.
This tale was gnawing at our curiosity, so we decided when the water depth and clarity was right that winter, we’d try and locate this boat with the intention of retrieving the cannon.
This is how our adventure began, Danny had to be at work for 10 o’clock, so that didn’t give us much time for searching, but the water conditions were right, we had the boat hooked up and ready to leave well before daylight. We launched between the railroad and the old Hwy 51 bridge that was now used for a fishing pier. It was still dark as we putted to the main channel around the pier. There was a tug boat tied off at the end of the pier with the name “Geronimo” posted on it side, high atop the pilot house whirled a huge radar sweep, It was a warm morning for December and the captain was leaning out the open window. It is just starting to break day and I yelled up to the captain, “what is the straightest direction to the mouth of the Tickfaw River?”, he glanced at the radar screen and pointed, straight that away. I yelled thanks and we headed out rounding Jones Island to pick up and continue on the direction he pointed.
We reached our destination and the conditions were right, pretty sure we were in the right area but the angle of the light in the early morning caused a glare which hindered our vision. We searched as best we could and it was just about time to get back when we noticed that the lake was covered with fog between us and the landing, so in a small panic we rushed to get back in. The fog was light at first but as we traveled it thickened and we lost eyesight of our land bearing and we didn’t have a compass in the boat. Anyone who has ever tried to navigate through fog by boat can tell you about the dire straights we were in. Without your bearings is like walking around blindfolded, before long you’re lost, and lost we were. The lake isn’t that large, so we thought if we continued in a straight line we would surely come ashore somewhere but we traveled for miles and miles and never did find a shoreline.
We were in a small fiberglass runabout, maybe 15 foot if that long, the wind was starting to blow and the water was getting choppy, we were hoping that the fog would lift enough to get a clear land marker. As we continued in what we thought was a straight line for the longest, the motor started to buck and then died. I grabbed the tank and it was empty, we had used up all our fuel and the wind was blowing harder and the temperature was dropping fast. We looked for the anchor and apparently Danny’s young boys who were playing in the boat the evening before threw it out into his yard. Quickly we grabbed the paddles and nosed the boat into the waves as the temperature continued to drop and the whitecaps and then swells became larger. It must have been around 11 O’clock when we started paddling and without an anchor we had no choice, had that little boat got sideways, the next wave would have capsized it and we would have been history.
We were both young and had no idea of the weather that was moving in, it was a true blue Northerner and she was sinking her teeth as the temperature plummeted, our exertion from paddling was the only thing that kept us from freezing. We fought and fought, paddling and paddling, keeping her nose into the wind as the blowing mist felt like ice crystals and we were not dressed for winter.
Danny was wearing a heavy fleece lined suede vest, as we paddled for what seemed like an eternity the waves got higher and more furious to a point where Danny was thrown from the boat. Quickly I dropped my paddle and went to his aid, he had sunk but surfaced close enough to where I could reach his vests, I drug him back aboard by one hand. Guess my strength came from my fear, I told him not to do that again, “you’re not leaving me out here by myself”.
We quickly got back on the paddle’s to right the boat which nearly flipped, you really don’t know your strength or will, until you’re faced with possible demise. Millions of things run through your mind, they say before you die your life flashes before you in thoughts, well for those hours I spent bending that paddle I could have written a book. Never have my prayers poured out so genuinely and meaningful.
We continued to fight the paddles for what seemed like an eternity when we spotted a skinny fisherman’s pole sticking out of the water, it was about 4 o’clock and we used our last bit of energy to reach that little stake. We had about 25 foot of bow rope that Danny was able to tie to the pole, finally after five hours, we could put the paddles down. It was freezing but I was too exhausted to feel the cold. I looked at that little pole, our lifeline, bending with every wave knowing that it was a matter of time before it would pull out of the lake bottom and I had no strength to paddle anymore. My life was in the Good Lords hands, knowing he may call me at any minute. I told Danny that I was going under the bow to get straight with the Lord.
Poor Danny was freezing from falling in, he climbed under the bow and we laid back to back, both shaking from the cold trying to stay warm.
There was a small hole in the bow of the boat near my head, every time the wave would top the bow it would spray a mist in my face but I didn’t move, I didn’t care anymore, I knew that the little pole was holding us every time I got sprayed. I actually fell asleep for a brief moment, guess it was from exhaustion.
Danny remember that there was dry gauze in a first aid kit that was aboard, he crawled out from under the deck to wrap his feet with it.
It was right at dusk and Danny yelled, “there is a boat passing by”, I handed him my little 22 as I crawled out to see, thought it may have been just a cruel joke. But about 300 yards away there was a tug boat pulling three barges. As I handed him the rifle I said, “shoot for the pilot house, I’ll take the blame if you hit him, I’d rather die in prison than out here”.
I was hoping for a loud bang, but you could hardly hear the sound coming from the rifle. Danny put the rifle down and continued to wrap his feet. I picked up his heavy wet fleece vest and stood on the seat and waved it in total desperation, as I was frantically waving at the departing tug it flashed it’s huge light beam back at us three times, I fell to the seat speechless from a lump in my throat, knowing that the Good Lord just said, “it’s not your time,” I sat there for a moment before I was able to tell Danny that he saw me and blinked his light.
The tug pulling those three barges started to make a huge circle back in our direction, when it came close enough to make it out in the dark of the evening I couldn’t believe my eyes, on the side of the tug in big beautiful letters the name “Geronimo”, the same tug that gave us directions that morning.
As the tug pulled closer to our little boat the wave heights became really noticeable, one moment we were way below the barnacle line the next wave we were deck level, just even with those huge tires that they use for bumpers. I was watching and timing the waves and when we were eye level again, I leaped like Batman, and I grabbed hold to one of those tires and leaped onto the tug.
The captain called me to come up to the pilots deck, he wanted me to see something, he showed me the radar screen, he said we were no more than 6 feet off dead center of the lake. He thought we were the lakes center buoy and almost didn’t give us a glance, but said that he had caught something out of the corner of his eye, someone was waving something. “I can’t believe y’all were out there all day.” He said I don’t know what made me even cross in this weather and that the Coast Guard put out an alert around noon to be on the lookout for y’all, but said it was too rough for them to search.
After that, the captain told his cook to fix a meal, we hadn’t eaten or drank all day, that was the best 2 inch T-bone, mashed potatoes and gravy I have ever ate..
That Captain might not have known why he crossed those rough waters pulling those barges, but me and the Good Lord knows…..
Bootsie
Feb 18, 2022 11:13:03 #
I have been lost in the fog in a boat, also. Fortunately, I was in a much smaller area out in a marsh and the fog lifted after several hours. I found that I was way off course from where I had intended to go. It's a scary feeling even whin you know you aren't in any real danger. I can't imagine what you went through.
Feb 18, 2022 11:29:56 #
kpmac wrote:
I have been lost in the fog in a boat, also. Fortunately, I was in a much smaller area out in a marsh and the fog lifted after several hours. I found that I was way off course from where I had intended to go. It's a scary feeling even whin you know you aren't in any real danger. I can't imagine what you went through.
Many years ago, I had just turned 20 and the memory is indelible…
Feb 19, 2022 06:27:16 #
Feb 19, 2022 08:12:58 #
Once got caught in the fog on Lake Champlain... kinda scary. But we had a good nav system in the boat and followed our trail back to the marina. Good story with a great outcome.
Feb 19, 2022 08:47:29 #
Feb 19, 2022 08:57:46 #
Feb 19, 2022 09:10:04 #
Feb 19, 2022 09:37:30 #
Feb 19, 2022 10:15:35 #
Sirsnapalot wrote:
Thanks Yssirk….
You're welcome - you are an excellent storyteller.
Feb 19, 2022 10:53:56 #
Sirsnapalot wrote:
December 1965, a close call…..when it’s almost but... (show quote)
Wow! You think you know the sea and forget that it is really not our element and she is a cruel mistress indeed. Then small lapses in judgement require monumental acts of seamanship and endurance just to survive (if you’re lucky).
Feb 19, 2022 11:21:53 #
Sirsnapalot wrote:
December 1965, a close call…..when it’s almost but... (show quote)
From Algiers and I have been in fog so heavy that I could not see the hood ornament on my Chevy.
Feb 19, 2022 11:53:27 #
letmedance wrote:
From Algiers and I have been in fog so heavy that I could not see the hood ornament on my Chevy.
Commuted, from Hammond to Mays Train Yard in Harahan daily, down the old Hwy 51 swamp road then along the Mississippi River on 61, very familiar with the fog you’re talking about.
Feb 19, 2022 13:07:53 #
Sirsnapalot wrote:
December 1965, a close call…..when it’s almost but... (show quote)
Fog with zero visibility can occur almost anywhere.
Just to add to the various scenarios. I was heading towards Knoxville from Chattanooga, TN. Near Cleveland, TN, there is a bridge that crosses over a stream that is near a paper maker factory. It was on I-75, back in the 1980s. I had to pull over to the emergency lane on an overpass because I had no visibility. A state trooper pulled over behind me shortly after. As we stood on the side conversing about the situation, we heard three tractor with trailers humping past us at speed. We could not see them or their lights.
Then we heard collision sounds from the road below. Since I was leading, I told the trooper to follow my lights until reaching the ramp to go down to the scene below. We did creep along the distance.
I traveled about an eight of mile further with the fog completely dissipated.
Later in the day, there was news about some 70 vehicles being involved in reaction impacts. I cannot remember the details, but there were several injuries.
And there are people who do drive 60-70 mph in zero visibility conditions. Still.
Feb 19, 2022 13:21:45 #
There are guardian angels for each of us. All we need do is ask for help. God bless(ed) you.
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