July 20 to August 3, Cincinnati to Morgantown, West Virginia

Leaving the marina in Cincinnati, we made an early start, expecting a long day.  The river was up 2 feet due to all the heavy rain and thunderstorms in the Northeast.  There was a lot of debris in the water, not small stuff, big logs, that needed continuous dodging, tiring for the helm.

We are now well into the part of the country known as the Rust Belt, or, more flattering, the Industrial Northeast.  As we travel up the Ohio and see the derelict factories and decommissioned but not mitigated power plants, the term Rust Belt takes on even more meaning.

We passed the Zimmer Power Plant.  It was planned to be nuclear, and was 95% complete and 1.6 billion dollars spent when construction was found to be inadequate.  Investigations into quality assurance resulted in large fines, and by 1983 the costs had escalated, further legal problems were looming, and the project was cancelled and the plant was mothballed.  Conversion of the plant to coal was started in 1987, and by 1991, when it finally began generating power, more than 3.3 billion dollars had been spent.  This was not the end of the story, as by 2021, the operator was fined by the EPA for exceeding pollution emissions for more than 20 years.  By 2022 the plant was considered no longer viable, as it could not make enough money to justify keeping it open, and it was shut down.

The Ohio River is more interesting north of Cincinnati, with lots of properties on the waterfront, campgrounds, small boat docks, and pretty countryside.

We went straight through the lock with no waiting.  There was an incredible debris field outside the upper doors, no way around it, so we had to plough gently through and hope nothing got into the props.

In Augusta, KY, there is a ferry crossing the Ohio River that has run continuously since 1798, although it is not the same hand-propelled vessel they started with in the 18^th century.

We arrived at the free town dock in Maysville, Kentucky.  Reviews of the mooring were confusing, so the plan was to make a slow pass before docking, to see what would be needed in the way of lines and fenders.  At the last minute, Dick just decided to dock.  I was not ready, we did not have headsets on, but I did at least have gloves on to handle the lines.  It was an easy docking, and we were settled by 3:30pm.

According to one of the many historic plaques, Maysville considers itself the “Birthplace of Bourbon”.  The town was a major shipping port for bourbon from the 1780’s, and the first documented advertisement for bourbon whiskey appeared in 1821 by Maysville merchants Stout and Adams.

We walked to Caproni’s, a venerable Italian American restaurant.  It opened in the 1930’s, as a sandwich shop for railway workers and travellers.  The meal was enjoyable, with friendly service.  We decided to try special cocktails for a change from our usual glass of wine or bubbly.  Dick’s concoction was made with iced tea, he requested unsweetened, and it was apparently very refreshing.  Mine was not a success.  I had not expected a recipe with peach schnapps and bourbon to be sweet, but it was impossible!  From now on I will stick with wine, or water.

Maysville has some lovely old buildings, but like so many places in small-town America, it is struggling.  We noticed a high school building that has been re-purposed to condos, which is a good start towards revitalizing the downtown.  One of the many murals on the town wall depicts a buffalo hunt in the 1600’s.  It has been noted on several occasions when I read about the history of the Ohio Valley, that the local native people were displaced by the Iroquois during the 17^th and 18^th centuries, with the Iroquois maintaining the area as their own hunting preserve.  The Iroquois were themselves displaced by French and British settlers, and later by the movement west into what was called the Northwest Territory.  What goes around comes around.

There were heavy thunderstorms in the night.  As I lay there listening, and watching the rain sheeting down the back door, I realized that the rain never hits the back door because of the extended hardtop.  I scrambled out to close the rolled up eisenglass at the back.  It took only a moment, but the bottoms of my pajamas were soaked.  The rain blew in far enough to wet the table, the gloves on it, and our deck shoes underneath.

The next day we passed the J.M. Stuart Generating Plant.  It was the 11^th most polluting power plant in the USA.  It was shut down by agreement with the Sierra Club and other interested parties, and is in the process of being demolished.

We passed the attractive and historic Selby 100 Mile House and Gardens.  This is now a B&B.  It looks very nice, but it is truly in the middle of nowhere, and no restaurants nearby for guests to find an evening meal.

Further upriver, we passed the Majestic Showboat.  This is another sad example of a historic fixture that has been allowed to fall into ruin.  The boat was built in 1923, and was the last floating theatre to be built in the USA, and the longest running.  It was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1989.  The showboat has no propulsion, and requires a tug to move her from place to place.  In 1965 the boat was shut down, as her wooden hull was considered unsafe.  She was drydocked, a steel outer hull was added, and she was purchased by the University of Cinncinati for use by theatre students for summer stock.  This lasted until 2019, when she was sold to a couple who planned to use her as a tourist attraction and airbnb.  Disputes arose over permitting and the plan to have her docked in Maysville fell through.  She is now sitting at a quiet stretch of the Ohio River, untended and unloved, a sad end to a long and interesting history.

We were into the Shawnee Boat Club in Portsmouth by 3:30, but it took us more than half an hour to tie up, even with help from a dockhand.  There are no cleats on the docks.  Instead, there are eyebolts, with a braided steel line running through them along the edge of the dock.  It would be impossible to tie up without help, or one of us jumping off the boat.  To add to the tripping hazard, a waterline runs along beside the steel line.  Fortunately, after a quiet night, it was a very calm morning, so Dick could untie us completely before stepping back onto the boat, while I stood ready at the helm if we drifted too far into the River. 

Dick rode up the hill to Kroger, which featured an interesting mural of the town on the side of the building.

The Sciotoville Railroad Bridge, known as the Colossus on the Ohio, was an engineering marvel in 1916, at the time of building.  It was the largest rivetted truss bridge in the world until 1945.

We arrived in Huntington, and were tied up on the town wall by 2:30.  We walked into town for dinner at Le Bistro.  This is the Rust Belt’s idea of a French restaurant.  The chef was very fond of garlic and pepper, and was perhaps overly generous with both, although we are also fond of them, so we enjoyed the meal.  It was the evening before our wedding anniversary, so Dick had pre-ordered the Chateaubriand.  It was supposed to be “prepared at your table by our chefs”, but it arrived on a wooden board, ready for us to help ourselves.  Overall, the food was okay, but nothing special.

The next day we tied up at Point Pleasant, again on the town wall.  There was a floating dock, but it was very low, so we used the concrete wall, which had good cleats and huge rubber bumpers.  We did need to take care with the fenders, partly to make sure the rubber wasn’t making black marks on the boat, and also to be sure the fenders weren’t trapped.  The next morning, I had a notice from WordPress, and an email through the blog site to say that a local resident had seen us tied up at Point Pleasant, and had found us on the internet.  Nine Lives is famous!

Point Pleasant town dock is just above the site of the Silver Bridge.  This was an eyebar chain suspension bridge, named for the colour of its aluminum paint.  It was built in 1928.  In 1967, the bridge collapsed under the weight of rush-hour traffic, with the loss of 47 lives.  The bridge was carrying more weight than it had been designed for, and had been poorly maintained.  A single eyebar in one of the suspension chains failed, due to a small defect just 1/10 of an inch deep.  Most suspension bridges have been built with multiple redundancy in the eyebar links, but the Silver Bridge had just two, so the failure of one link resulted in catastrophic failure of the other.  Inspections, using the technology available at the time, could not have seen the flaw or prevented the disaster.  The collapse led to the creation of the first National Bridge Inspection Program in 1968.  Despite this program of inspections, bridges still occasionally collapse.

We walked into town and had dinner at a Japanese restaurant.  It was a nice change, but although there was a huge amount of food, it was a little uneven.  Great fried dumplings, strange tasting tempura vegetables, and enormous portions of hibachi chicken, filet, and shrimp.  Returning to the boat, we found the concert that had been setting up was about to start.  It was very sparsely attended.  The music was religious light rock, played for about an hour and a half, and then everyone went home by 8pm.  It seemed like a lot of expense and effort to set up (stage, power, lighting, and a pavilion for the privileged few), for a very short concert.

The weather was finally cool enough overnight to turn off the generator and do without air conditioning.  There was mist on the water in the morning, although there was more heat to come, according to the forecasts.

Point Pleasant is famous for the Mothman legend, a larger than human creature with wings and glowing red eyes, sighted over a period of about a year in 1967.  It was first described by a couple who saw it, and claimed that it chased their car (could they possibly have overindulged in a bad batch of moonshine?)  As soon as the encounter was reported, there were many more sightings, and in due course the story was picked up by the national press.  Eventually the tale was made into a movie with Michael Keating.  Sober heads suggest that the initial encounter most likely was a Sandhill Crane, that was off its migration route.  They are the largest crane in America, and have red patches around their eyes.

The next day we anchored behind Buffington Island, anchor set by 2:30.  We watched a young deer browsing the vegetation along the shore.  Apart from one pontoon boat and a fishing boat, we saw nobody.  It was a quiet location, with barely enough current to keep the boat in line, so it might not do so well in a strong wind.  We had heavy thunderstorms overnight, and once again I got soaked zipping up the back window.  Talk about fool me twice!  Why are you the one getting soaked, I hear you ask!  Dick does not wake up for anything short of a very loud siren.  By the time I get his attention, I can just deal with the problem.

We arrived in Marietta well before 2pm.  Dick had been told he couldn’t make a reservation, and to call on the day.  Repeated phone calls, and messages were left, but no answer.  We needed to take on water anyway, so we tied up at the fuel dock.  When Dick went up to the office, there was a sign on the door saying, “Closed Monday and Tuesday”.  He came back and we set our lines properly, and plugged into the power post.  Dick took on water immediately, just in case we got kicked off, but nobody troubled us.

It was a very short walk to the restaurant.  The food was okay.  Dick fell into the trap that always used to catch my Dad.  He heard “rack of lamb” and ignored the rest, so he was quite surprised that it was prepared as tagine, with couscous and tomato sauce!  Not what he was expecting, but he enjoyed it anyway.

Marietta was the first town to be settled in the Northwest Territory, west of the Ohio River.  The settlement began in 1788.  It was named after Marie Antoinette, in acknowledgement of France’s role in the American Revolution.  We were told that after the Revolutionary War, George Washington arranged for any soldier who had fought in the war, to be awarded a land grant in the new Northwest Territory.  Apparently, there are more Revolutionary soldiers buried in Marietta’s cemeteries than anywhere else in USA.

One of the attractive homes in the town is the Lockmaster’s House, built in 1899.  Clearly, the position of lockmaster in the 19^th century was one of great prestige. The lockmaster was on call 24 hours a day.  The lock was one of the hand-operated locks on the Muskingum Waterway.  Ten of these locks are still in use, and they are still hand-operated.  The Waterway might have been an interesting detour for Nine Lives, but advice from other boaters was that it was not worth taking the time.

We had a very quiet night, and heavy fog on the water in the morning.  I watched a man in a small boat net fishing.  I have seen quite a few optimistic fishermen using these nets, that are large, circular nets with weights.  One tosses the net out into the water, and then gathers it in, supposedly full of fish.  I have yet to see a single successful cast. There was still nobody about when it came time to leave, so we enjoyed a night of free dockage with power and water!

Reviews of our planned stop at Sisterville suggested that there could be shallow water at the dock.  We made a close pass, and between the weeds in front of the dock, and a pile of mud and sand beside it, we decided not to attempt it.  10 miles further up the Ohio, is a State Park with a good concrete wall.  The depth at the wall was 19 feet.  The bollards were about 50 feet apart, so docking was a bit of a challenge.  I threw a line over a bollard at the midship, and that allowed Dick to jump off and then walk the boat back to put a loop over a second bollard with a longer line.  We even managed a spring line, essential on the river with all the wakes from passing tows and pleasure boaters.

Sudden, unexpected rain, and the need to close everything up in a hurry got us both soaked, and proved that my weather app may just be more reliable than the one Dick is using!  There was another sharp shower at dawn, but otherwise it was a peaceful night.

The lock was just upstream, and there was no wait for the small chamber, so we were through by 9:30am.  We tied up at Wheeling Landing by 1:30pm.  There were a number of boats already on the lower part of the wall.  A guy came over to us and warned us that we should use a chain to lock the lines in place, because there is apparently a problem, getting worse each year, with teenagers untying boats at 3am.  We use multiple lines anyway, including some tied back on the boat, so Dick decided not to do anything beyond our usual routine.  A lot of preparations were underway for a big festival to start the next day.  Huge trailers parked in nearby streets included Veterans Affairs, Homeland Security, and Disaster Response.  We were not sure what any of those would have to do with an Italian Heritage Festival.

By dark, there were lots of boats docked, including several rafted up, as the lower, easier docking part of the town wall was full.  A friendly guy near us told me that he leaves his boat tied up on that wall often, and has never had a problem.  That relieved my mind somewhat, but when we walked to dinner we saw more homeless people in the park than we have anywhere else.  The town is in poor condition, with many buildings closed up.  A lot of the streets are torn up, possibly to install new water mains or sewers.  Dinner at a nearby diner was quite good, but we have no need to return to Wheeling.  On a normal night, without the festival and other boats around, I would not feel at all safe overnight.

We passed the factory in Newell, WV, where they make Fiesta Tableware, first introduced in 1936.  In 1871 two brothers, Homer and Shakespeare Laughlin, started a pottery factory in East Liverpool to produce whiteware, that was becoming more fashionable than the yellow pottery that had been common in USA.  In 1897, the successful business was sold to Edwin Wells and his partner Louis Aaron.  The pottery is still managed by the Wells family today.  In 1936, Fiesta Tableware was introduced, and was an immediate success with its high gloss, bright colours, and practical Art Deco shapes.  Despite its popularity, Fiesta was retired in 1978, but was re-introduced in 1983, and continues to be manufactured today.

We were booked into Holiday Marina, on the Chester side of the River.  We were on the wall, which has metal edging and no rubber. The slips, although wood, are low, with narrow finger piers and also no rubber.  Regardless, it was a decent place to stop for the night, especially in the location we were assigned.  Dick was pleased that the showers were spotless.  We plan to stop there again on our return journey.

There were huge thunderstorms again overnight, and in the early morning, so we considered staying there a second night.  However, there seemed to be a window of opportunity, so we left shortly after 8am.  We had 3 locks to transit that day.  We were surprised to be told at the first lock, that the small chamber requires that you supply a line.  Dick was prepared for that on the Monongahela River, but this was unexpected on the Ohio locks, and the line was still coiled in the locker.  This meant that there was a bit of a scramble to get it ready.  100 feet of line is easily tangled, and too much to hold a coil even for Dick’s big hands!  The lockmaster passes down a hook, you put your line on it, and he pulls it up and wraps it round a bollard or hangs it on a hook.  We cleat the line in the middle of our bow, and then after it passes round the bollard on the lock wall, Dick holds the other end on the lower cleat at the stern. It worked well for two locks, and then the third was a mess.  The wind had come up, and blew us about, but the big problem was a small speedboat that came in behind us.  They were not ready at all.  They didn’t have a line to pass to the lockmaster, and the line they took out of the bow of their boat was all tangled up.  The man attached it to another line, also tangled, and meanwhile the wind blew them around the lock, nearly into the stern of our boat.  The lockmaster moved us up a bit further into the lock, while the man continued to try to get himself organized.  His wife apparently had no role, she simply sat at the back of the boat while the man jumped back and forth, trying to steer away from the lock wall, and also get the lines sorted.  It all got a bit easier when the lockmaster finally closed the doors, so that at least the wind was no longer a factor.  It was an object lesson for boaters, everyone should have a role, be able to assist, and needs to understand what is happening in the various situations one encounters, particularly locking and docking.

At last it was time for the lock to start filling.  The review I read said it was a “turbulent” lock.  This is the understatement of the trip.  I had to use the engines to even come close to holding Nine Lives somewhat aligned to the lock wall.  The lockmaster was very chatty, and he and Dick enjoyed a conversation about the Great Loop and catamarans.  Then the heavens opened.  All the windows were rolled up, so we had to jump to close everything, while still trying to maintain the boat in position as the lock filled.  I stayed mostly dry, but Dick had to go back out and tend the line (and resume his conversation with the lockmaster).

Arriving in Pittsburgh, we had planned to stay on the wall at The Point, a park where three rivers meet.  It is the confluence of the Ohio, the Monongahela, and the Allegany Rivers.  There were no cleats or bollards that we could see, just rings set in the very low concrete wall.  We needed a pump out first anyway, so proceeded to the marina where we had made a prior arrangement.  We will be returning to that marina later in the month.

The pump out was self-serve.  The machine cooperatively ate Dick’s $10 bill, but declined to turn on and start pumping.  Then the heavens opened again.  Dick phoned, and the marina manager, who fortunately lives on site, came over and got the machine started.  He said we would be all right to stay for the night, for the usual charge, of course.  This means we get power and water.  There were a lot of strong wakes from boats going up and down the Monongahela, so we needed good fendering.  As the rain came down in buckets, I asked Dick if he wanted his waterproof coat.  As usual, he said no, because he was very sure the rain would stop.  Once he was wet through, he asked me to get the coat.  Struggling to get it on, over wet clothes, and not drop the headset into the water, took a few minutes, but as soon as it was accomplished, the rain stopped.

Lots of very chatty people dropped by and admired Nine Lives and talked about the Great Loop.  This was more friendly conversation than we have had on the dock for ages.

The next morning, we passed the Elrama Power Plant, a coal-fired plant closed in advance of pollution regulations.  The buildings were imploded in May of this year, local news reports said the plant was “reduced to rubble”.  It is certainly a mess, but not quite rubble yet.  It is really a depressing sight to pass the incredible number of closed power plants and factories.  We know that they were huge polluters, and were closed with lawsuits and to avoid fines, but nobody requires the sites to be properly cleaned up.  Apart from being a huge eyesore, there have to be chemicals and metals leaching into the water table and of course running off into the rivers. No longer quite as shiny as when we started out, Nine Lives is now sporting a brown moustache at the waterline from the murky water of the rivers.

We were tied up at Beach Club Marina in the town of New Eagle, by 1pm, a nice early finish in spite of passing through 2 locks.  Unfortunately, after we had all our lines set, and power started, we had to reposition and do everything again.  It is always a bad sign when there are lines already on the cleats, and sure enough, the space the dockhands had put us in belonged to a seasonal slip-holder.  The location is very pretty (not a factory or power plant in sight), but subject to a lot of rolly-poly due to wakes as boaters rip past at speed.  The building that had once been the fuel dock and office was shut, so payment for dockage was a bit problematic.  Normally we would pay with a credit card, but apparently this would be quite a difficult prospect, and cash is preferred.  In this day and age it is hard to imagine that cash is the only option.

Dick took a walk to investigate the town and buy a few groceries.  He reported that there is really nothing else there.  We walked up to the on-site restaurant for dinner.  It has recently opened, and had 22, 5-star reviews, all dated the same day…  The food was quite tasty, although from a limited menu, but they were very short-staffed, and our meals took forever.  Meanwhile we were surrounded by badly behaved adults with their equally badly behaved children (handstands in a restaurant?).  We feel no need to return to either the restaurant or the marina.

There was very heavy fog in the morning, we couldn’t see the shoreline across the river.  Dick cooked one of his signature breakfasts, which gave the fog time to lift.

Arriving at Lock 4, we saw a dredge working just outside the lock doors.  It was interesting to be so close, as a crane lifted buckets of gravel from the riverbed into a waiting barge.  The lockkeepers were very chatty, told Dick that they had been expecting us, as they had a phone call from the downstream lock.

We were into Ten Mile Yacht Club by 2:30, and had help from our member contact to get into the slip.  It was slightly worrying for me as we got closer to the rocks at the bow (Dick couldn’t see them), but with knowledgeable help we stopped in time.  There was no phone signal at all, so we planned a very quiet evening of working on the blog.  Dick prepares a print version, so we both need time for it.  As it happened, our plans changed, and we enjoyed one of the nicest social evenings we have had this trip.  Docktails were arranged with our hosts and some other members of the yacht club.  I put together a cheese and charcuterie plate, that was well received, and it was a most convivial evening.  Dick took a group of engineering students for a tour of Nine Lives including, of course, the engines.  Our hosts are in the initial planning stages for doing all or perhaps just part of the Great Loop, so they had lots of questions.

Dick’s initial contact with the Yacht Club was via a phone call.  He left a message for the man who was listed as the contact in the 2022 Quimby’s Guide that Dick is using for planning.  It happens that guy died some years ago, but fortunately his widow is still in touch with the Club, and passed along Dick’s message.

We left by 9am the next morning, and were tied up on the City Marina dock in Morgantown, WV, by 2pm.  They are excellent docks, but the power pedestals are not working, and there is no water.  We will have to be careful of water use over the next few days, and will need to run the generator if we want air conditioning.  Fortunately, it is cool at night, so AC not required at the moment.  The docks are in the Wharf District of Morgantown, an area in the process of revitalization, with lots of restaurants but no shops.  There is a bike path right beside the waterfront that goes for miles.

We walked up to Oliveri’s, an Italian restaurant very nearby.  This was the best meal we have had in a while, although the service was a bit chaotic.  We shared truffle fries to start, and then Dick enjoyed his beet and feta cheese salad.  My salad was not delivered, but there was plenty of food without it, so I didn’t bother to chase it.  Dick had seafood linguine that was excellent.  My lobster ravioli in a seafood cream sauce with grilled shrimp was outstanding.  Desserts were mixed, Dick loved his pistachio ice cream bombe, but my flourless chocolate cake was far too sweet.

Morgantown’s early history was one of conflict between British and French settlers and soldiers, and Native Americans.  The Treaty of Paris of 1763 ceded the area to the British, but fighting continued until after the American Revolution.  The University of West Virginia has three campuses in Morgantown, connected by an unusual driverless personal rapid transit system built as an experiment by the US Department of Transportation in the 1970’s.  It is still in use.

Morgantown has excellent bike paths that cover much of the city safely.  The Mon River Trail runs alongside the Monongahela River.  It is built on the right of way of the former Fairmont, Morgantown, and Pittsburgh branch of the Baltimore and Ohio (B&O) Railroad.  In 1996 the corridor was acquired to be railbanked as a non-motorized trail system.  The process of railbanking refers to a 1983 amendment to the National Trails System Act.  There was concern in Congress that the railway infrastructure of the United States was rapidly disappearing, and that some of the disappearing railroads might be needed in future.  The railroad company no longer owns the corridor, but it can be returned if it becomes needed to transport goods or people.  Given the variety of alternate modes of transportation of goods and people, I imagine it is highly unlikely that these trails will ever be repossessed.  Town and City Councils must agree, as there are quite a few of these bike and walking trails built on former railroad corridors.  We have enjoyed riding on several in other states as we have travelled around the Great Loop.

On our second evening in Morgantown, we walked along the Mon River Trail for about a mile to a so-called fine dining restaurant.  The food was sometimes strange, but mostly acceptable.  Perhaps not worth a long walk on a hot and humid day.

The next morning, we were surprised to hear loud sirens from the city, starting around 6:30am, and sounding continuously for several hours.  There were different sirens from different parts of the city, and they continued to sound on and off throughout the morning.  No explanation was available online, and there were clearly no tornadoes in the area, so the reason remains a mystery.  Dick occupied his morning with making arrangements for delivery of diesel to the marina we will stay at in Pittsburgh.  The only marina that has diesel on the dock is charging more than the highest price we have ever paid, 50% more than the current price in other locations.  Having the fuel delivered by truck will still be expensive, but it will be less than the outrageous price charged at the other marina.

So far there has been no sign of any officialdom asking to be paid for mooring here at the Morgantown City Marina.  The rate was reported to be $15 a day, something of a bargain, but on the other hand, the power and water pedestals are not working.  This evening we will walk to the nearby restaurant in the Marriott Hotel, and we will start our return trip down the Monongahela River tomorrow morning.