#houseboating

Just some notes returning back to Dubuque via houseboat

ALONG THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER HEADING BACK TO DUBUQUE, IA: "Just a little reminder, folks," Huckleberry Hound remarked as he was steering the houseboat of Bristlehound and Dum-Dum, which also had the company of yours truly and Touché Turtle, downstream, "we have Character Convocation on the 4th of July weekend in Clear Lake, Iowa."

"And let me guess the reason for the locale," Bristlehound asked in that Bing Crosby-inspired voice of his, "their having some extra-special 4th of July celebration?"

"One of the largest in the Midwest," Huck responded. "Even if they happen to be something close to resort country ... which Okoboji obviously is."

"Not to mention," chimed in yours truly, "plenty of opportunity to run into fans old and new. In walkabout, even ... including the parade on the 4th itself, and throughout the town even, especially along Clear Lake proper!"

(We had to cut the discussion short a bit inasmuch as a rather substantial barge was in close proximity to our houseboat, and we had to stay some distance clear because of its size and wake in pushing six barges. Even then, a couple of members of the barge crew waved at our presence.)

"Pretty massive barge tug," Dum-Dum was quick to remark. "But it's certain to be quite the time in Clear Lake!"

"And no doubt plenty of opportunity being afforded for us to just be our own funtastic selves," Huckleberry remarked, "particularly along the lakeshore, downtown and in the carnival area."

"And lest we forget about the Surf Ballroom," chimed in I, "where yours truly crossed paths with the Cattanooga Cats one evening!"

"You mean THE Cattanooga Cats?" Huck asked surprisingly. "Country, Groove, Scoots and Kitty Jo?"

"Correctamundo," replied I. "And Kitty Jo's pet hound, Teeny Tim."

"And did I hear correctly about Scoots having consierable dexterity in playing several musical insturments?" Huckleberry continued.

"Correctamundo again ... standup bass, 12-string guitar, banjo, dulcimer, mandolin, musical saw, Gahoon, harmonica ..."

"I never know one of our own could play a musical saw," Bristlehound remarked. "Let alone heard about it."

I also went on to explain that among the more obvious absences will have to be The Goofy Guards, their being in Ocean City, Maryland over the summer doing a fencing challenge for visitors. Leaving no less than Touché Turtle being willing to demonstrate fencing skills and invite visitors to try their hand.

"Oh, and lest we forget," added I, "both the Cattanooga Cats and The Banana Splits have acknowledged commitments to appear." Only to be cut short by my mobile going off; Top Cat (or is that TC?) was calling to announce his clowder's coming over for the Convocation, "sophisticated or otherwise!", as TC remarked. "Not to mention at least one symposium with the crew," remarked he.

Next stop: Dubuque Municipal Harbor. Thence westward to Clear Lake.

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Taking hot dog roasts to a new level of taste

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER NEAR CASSVILLE, WISCONSIN: Picture of a twilight on the river, a hot dog roast being uppermost on our minds ahead of the evening's break from houseboating.

And uppermost on our mind, something a little more old school: as in natural-casing weiners from a meat market in Cassville, some potato hot dog buns--and for some reason, a rather amusing condiment from England which Dum-Dum found on Amazon.com, ultimately after learning of it on some Facebook page given to funny labelling and brand names.

To wit: Daddie's Sauce, a somewhat fruity-tasting brown sauce whose key component is malt vinegar. Sort of in the vein of A-1 or Heinz 57 Sauce, only the colour is a little darker and the flavour undertones more pronounced.

"Certainly quite different than ketchup," Huckleberry Hound remarked. "Which," Dum-Dum explained, "is the attraction of it."

And even when you're around a fire pit of the classic sort, sitting on lawn chairs and grilling your hot dogs on old-school wooden twigs of decent length (except for Touché Turtle, preferring his fencing foil, bent tip and all, to so roast), the taste of coarsely-ground meats in a natural casing just sizzling from a driftwood fire ... on a potato bun ... with Daddie's Sauce all around, not to mention some kettle-cooked potato chips as well ... the twilight giving way to the blue of evening ... what more could life expect?

"Oh yes--our July 4th Character Convo," Huck remarked.

"In Clear Lake, Iowa, even," yours truly replieth. "And to think I spent some interesting time there a couple years back, just wasting some time ... and let's not forget when I ran across the Cattanooga Cats in performance at the Surf Ballroom; heavens to Buddy Holley, The Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens even ..."

"I think I heard something about that encounter somewhere a while back," Bristlehound brought up. "The Cattanooga Cats ... in the Surf Ballroom, of all places!"

"All right, honey, YOU KNOOOOOOWWWWW WHAT I LIKE!!!" chimed forth all of us, channelling The Big Bopper.

"Which reminds me," Huckleberry remarked, "that I may want to do some check-ins with some of the fellow characters to remind them of same being in Clear Lake. And on the 4th of July weekend." Which was bound to take most of the night, but believe you me, thanks to text messaging, he managed to get the aide-mémoire out.

And one especially interesting response: Lippy the Lion, channelling the storied Japanese film character Tora-San, acknowledging he would be on his way.. Well ... before long, it'll be Clear Lake for us.

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They say "if you can drive a car--"

ALONG THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER NORTH OF DUBUQUE, IOWA: And just be grateful that, in anchoring our houseboat near certain railroad tracks on the Wisconsin side for the night, nothing serious managed to ensue with the passage of numerous freight trains ... or did it, especially in the sleep department?

But at any rate, Bristlehound explained over the morning bottles of Boost (that's a meal-replacement drink we're having for breakfast) that the interest he and Dum-Dum had in going the houseboating route on the Mississippi was one of getting laid back and just being at ease. "For some reason," as the onetime Faithful Sheepdog Protector of Lambsy explained, "the expression on the river about 'if you can drive a car, you can drive a houseboat' must be all the more true."

"Once you get the hang of it," Huckleberry Hound remarked.

And what could be more fascinating than the sheer freshness of a late spring-segueing-into-summer's day, a gentle sort of breeze blowing through the river valley, the bluffs providing a spectacle unto their own ... and no less than Touché Turtle "himself" on a deck chair on the front deck, air horn at the ready, yet still jaunty-looking in that plumed cap of his.

Somehow, the fascination of the river brings out something of the Tom Sawyer in all of us--or can it?

Over some limeade we were sharing, Touché Turtle made an Interesting Admission: "The idea you may have gathered from the opening title scenes of our flicktoons, about me going into battle with lightning--how I managed to survive it without becoming roasted turtle, or even turtle soup for that matter, and with a bent-tip foil such as I have, practically amazes me as much as Dum-Dum."

Which brought out the laughs.

And yet, one especially challenging sort of challenge in taking the houseboat route is managing to survive the wake from a rather massive collation of barges being pushed by a diesel barge tow. Which can get to be not only sizable, but can also require some stamina just managing to stay clear of such carrying the likes of grain, coal, crushed limestone, petroleum even. Especially with Bristlehound, Huck and yours truly sharing the steering duties and Dum-Dum monitoring the marine emergency radio channel (VHF channel 16) and the small craft radio channel (VHF channel 9), notwithstanding Touché trying to be as discreet as possible in emergencies ("Touché," Dum-Dum advised as we were getting underway back in Dubuque, "try not to overdo it on the swordplay; I may need to get a hold of you quickly in the cicumstances!").

Still, even on the river, chivalry has to have a place. Even over peanut butter sandwiches on whole wheat bread, and the peanut butter being of the sort where the oil has to be mixed in.

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Just getting stocked up for some houseboating isn't quite a picnic--or can it be?

DUBUQUE, IA: It certainly took a couple days to reach the Mississippi River from Breezewood, Pennsylvania via US 20 for the most part ... and to cross the Mississippi via the Julien Dubuque Bridge was something of a sign of anticipation for some interesting little escapades ahead.

Via houseboat, even.

And with such interesting company of Your Correspondent as Huckleberry Hound and Touché Turtle, Bristlehound and Dum-Dum were bound, in their role as guides, to make sure things were running smoothly. Hence, their directing us via text message to meet them at the Hy-Vee supermarket coming off the bridge into Dubuque. Yes, as in a certain "little old lady from" made infamous, in a way, by Harold Ross in launching that somewhat sophisto and urbane journal known as The New Yorker back in 1925. Insisting that he was not intending The New Yorker to be for the Little Old Lady from Dubuque, implying that she would likely be satisfied with The Saturday Evening Post, Collier's, Grit and Comfort rather than a high-class literary-leaning review.

But back to the Hy-Vee: Both Dum-Dum and Bristlehound would meet us at the entrance for the preparatory shopping trip for supplies heading into the little houseboat excursion. More than likely a "mystery trip," by all assumptions, yet mind you, leave any pretension of emulating Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn at the dock.

Following a modest little cafeteria-manner lunch in Hy-Vee's dining area, something of a staple in their larger locations across eight Midwestern states, Bristlehound and Dum-Dum led the way into getting the necessary supplies: Meal-replacement drinks (mainly for breakfast) ... wholemeal crackers ... cheese spread ... summer sausage ... smoked sausage ... buns ... charcoal ... bottled water, spring and seltzer ... flavouring concentrate ... batteries for the transistor radio ... all in all, just trying to be low-impact more than anything.

As Dum-Dum admitted, "it's more than likely we'll want to spend our nights sleeping on the roof of our houseboat just for the experience."

Bristlehound added, "Especially when passing barge tows in the night leave such wake as can make things interesting in the sleep department." Thankfully, CPAP was not the sort of thing we were on, nor even think about being on.

Once out of the way, a drive to the docks where Bristlehound and Dum-Dum tied up their modest little houseboat--hardly a fancy sort, yet stylishly simplistic for the purpose. Even if it took a few minutes for a freight train to clear the tracks so we could get to the boat, by which time early evening's effects were starting to be obvious. And once loaded, reviewing the inevitable safety procedures for boating in the Mississippi's waters, the call of "Touché awayyyy!" by none other than was the call to cast off and get underway.

Huckleberry Hound couldn't have said it better in observing that "what could feel more interesting than to just spend a couple days on the river living the houseboat life ... even if it means the likes of Boost for breakfast?"

"At any rate, folks," Dum-Dum was quick to note, "Bristlehound and I decided on meal-replacement shakes for breakfast more than anything. Especially when the desire is to get out on the river with as little mess as possible after breakfast."

"Even allowing for recycling," Bristlehound added.

Still, even if the supper was mainly a bag of wholemeal tortilla chips with some salsa in the bargain as we made bivouac for the night on some sandbar on the Wisconsin side of the river. Just be thankful for the deck chairs to provide some sleep, and just hope the trains don't keep you all too awake.

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