Shoot up amongst us

Captain's Log - Day 16

Simon and I are exhausted. Collectively, we probably got about 5 hours of sleep last night.

Somehow the heat was worse last night than the night before. But what really killed it were the mosquitoes. Contrary to popular wisdom they seem to be getting larger and more wily the further south we go. At night, we only open windows and doors that have screens and yet the mosquitoes still seem to enter in a steady stream.

Not only do we have screens, but we guard the door with citronella candles. As I purchased these, I believed that I was buying mosquito kryptonite; turns out they're not even mosquito nails-on-a-chalkboard. They're probably closer to mosquito chime-that-goes-off-when-you-don't-buckle-your-seatbelt. For all I know these things are actually like signal fires, screaming "OVER HERE! COME SUCK OUR BLOOD!"

Last night, as I lay in my soggy sheet, I had a choice to make. Do I recklessly throw caution (and my sheet) to the wind and sleep at a more reasonable temperature while allowing about 60 mosquitoes to feast on my exposed flesh? Or do I keep the sheet on and swelter while an orderly queue of mosquitoes forms to wait their turn sucking the blood from my exposed face?

I went halvsies; I covered up all but one arm and tried to sleep. This didn't work out, though. Between hearing the high-pitched whine of a mosquito dive-bombing my ear every 45 seconds and bracing myself for the next tree to hit the boat (a few rattled her to her core), sleep just wasn't happening. And the mosquitoes still got me good. It'll be a miracle if I finish this trip without contracting the West Nile.

This morning, Simon and I discussed it, and if a similar situation ever arises, we're just going to drive through the night - at least then the breeze will keep the bugs away and we can sleep during the day when the mosquitoes go back to their lairs.

Today, we had another casualty of Huck Finn 2010. This time it was an anchor.

Twice today, torrential rains and gale-force winds came upon us. The first time, we pulled near shore to drop anchor - visibility was about 20 feet, and we didn't want to have a head-on with a barge. As soon as the anchor hit bottom, Simon shouted out that something felt off about it. It caught us for a second and then it wasn't holding us anymore. We pulled it back in and got underway (these typhoons are typically short-lived) only to find that the anchor has been bent completely out of usable shape. Neither of us had any idea this could even happen to an anchor! Good thing we have three more ...

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. We're on the hook beside Brown's Bar, just 24 miles upriver from Cairo, Illinois. We're thinking that if we anchor far enough from shore, the mosquitoes won't find us. Fingers crossed.