Prologue

The smoke from Jimmy’s hand-rolled cigarette swirled lazily in the breeze as he continued his story... "I looked down and saw my ankle, covered by a pulsing mass of ticks. The growing hoard of arachnids was steadily marching up my calf, like pioneers in a Kansas land rush. The local folk sometimes take some duct tape in hand and apply it to the ticks, but you know that’s probably gonna kill them. I find that if you pour some water on them, they will leave, but sooner or later they’ll be back."

Jimmy’s eyes were alive, as if the wonders of nature lived inside, as he told me one, of his many tales and anecdotes. Every line on his weathered face reflected the peaceful way he journeyed through life. I guessed he was about fifty. Scraggly, brown, shoulder length hair clung to his scalp behind his sun beaten receding brow. Rowboat Jimmy had given up paper work, technology and bureaucracy in 1985 when he left his career. "Retired." he said. I deduced he must have been about 35 when he "dropped out". Since then he had been living with nature, and in the last several years had been touring the country’s waterways in a rowboat. He admitted that his arms were strong, but he bemoaned that rowing was hard on the back. The bicycle that he carried for excursions on shore complemented the arm exercise. He continued, "I could get re-certified and continue my optometry practice." When I asked if he was going to change his current way of life, he just looked me directly in the eyes, and with a broad grin, shook his head side to side.

We were sitting in the cabin of Jimmy’s rowboat, parked in its slip in the Grand Mariner Marina on Dog River in Mobile, Alabama. The shade on his rowboat’s cabin and the breeze blowing through the mosquito netting in the windows provided a cool contrast to the 82 degree heat and high humidity here on the edge of Mobile Bay. Jimmy had related the story of the ticks after I asked about mosquitoes. He said, "The mosquitoes are not active during the heat of the day." I had a dozen bites myself. I didn’t see any on Jimmy. While discussing river travel, I suggested, "Some modifications could be made to his rowboat to provide sailing capacity." He came back casually, "But then it wouldn’t be a rowboat."

Bob, Ted, and I (the crew) were at the end of our journey, and I was enjoying one of the most relaxing vacations I’ve ever had. For four nights we slept on our boat in a covered slip that was a few slips away from Jimmy’s rowboat. Most of the folks, I met here, owned boats and lived aboard them. They docked here (some for months), did their boat maintenance, and some got employment at the marina. The people formed a community that was so friendly and helpful, that this place reminded me of the Twilight Zone. This marina was isolated from Mobile, and there were no commercial facilities within a mile, but it had a good restaurant that served dinner from 5:30 P.M. to 10:30 P.M. The store sold: marine gear, soft drinks, ice cream, chips, sandwiches, burritos, beer and souvenirs. The office, store, laundry, showers and restrooms were on the bottom floor of the building. The restaurant was upstairs. The store had a television, chairs, and air conditioning, which was a godsend if you had been working or exercising in the sun. The marina had gas and diesel pumps and roughly 100 covered slips. They were nearly all occupied by an assortment of boats (many in varying stages of repair). Most of the boats were just being stored here.

The marina occupied several acres to house a repair shop, boatlift, storage buildings and a parking lot. Trees, plants and wildlife abounded on the fringes of these structures. When strolling around the grounds, a wave and greeting were standard when encountering any person. If you met under the shade of a tree, it was not unusual to stop and converse awhile. Many tales were exchanged while sitting in the air-conditioned area of the store. An open patio, under a portion of the restaurant provided a cool place to sit and discuss adventures. From the patio chairs, Dog River and Mobile Bay were visible between the docked boats. Volunteers from the community cared for palms and potted plants that surrounded the patio. It was hard to find any stress here. Once, I saw a mariner yell at a boater who was driving too fast in a restricted area of Dog River. Otherwise, this marina was the most laid back peaceful place I’ve seen.

We launched the Sippi on April 16, 1999 from Chicago and arrived here at the Gulf of Mexico on May 5, 1999. The 1285 miles upon the various waterways had taken us twenty days. We lost four days of river travel due to a failure of the shift mechanism in the out-drive transmission. We averaged 80 miles a day when the boat was operable. Our journey had taken us from Lake Michigan to the Gulf via the Calumet River, Chicago Sanitary Ship Canal, Des Plaines River, Illinois River, Mississippi River, Ohio River, Tennessee River, and the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway. It took us eight days to boat down the 325 miles of the Illinois waterways, but we were holed up for four days. We traveled 218 miles down the Mississippi in 3 ½ days. We fought the current going up the Ohio River for 46 miles till we reached the Tennessee River in half a day. We traveled 215 miles up the mild current of the Tennessee for three days. Five days down the Tenn-Tom carried us 470 miles to Mobile Bay on the Gulf of Mexico.

Several years ago my father-in-law, Bob Jaeger, captured my ear with his dream of a Mississippi River boating adventure. I also, for many years, have envisioned an unguided tour of a major waterway to be a great experience. As attracted as I was to his ambition, I had several misgivings about the trip. First, could we live together in harmony for a month. Second, I felt responsible for a major computer system implementation during my last two years working for the State of New Mexico. I continued to look for opportunities to take an extended leave from my work in Santa Fe, but I was a slave to my responsibilities.

When I retired on January 1, 1998, at the age of 50, the dreams of the river trip seemed lost, faraway from thought. The embers of the dream in my father-in-law’s head would not be rekindled until early in the summer. Our talks that summer became more serious. We were inclined toward a fall journey, but as the summer wore on, it became apparent that we were not preparing rapidly enough to achieve the fall window. Bob is intolerant to heat. Therefore, our trip would have to be done in the fall or spring.

In the year 1998, Bob turned 75 years old, but his ambition overwhelmed his current poor physical condition. Swollen feet and a leg problem made walking difficult. Bob lived in Ohio all his life. He worked in a lumberyard and later worked in a savings and loan business. He was elected township clerk, and worked many years as a charter member of the Eaton Volunteer Fire Department. He and his wife, Dorothy sent their daughter, Arlene, to college in Las Vegas, New Mexico where I met her 30 years ago. During his young years as a scout and scout master, the notion of sailing down the Mississippi in a wooden boat was implanted in his mind.

Late that summer, during a visit to his home in Ohio, Bob took me to see a boat that was for sale at $800.00. Even with my scant knowledge of boats, this one appeared a little cramped and was not rain worthy. Bob eventually got the price down to $650.00, but I was glad that we agreed the boat was still inadequate for our needs. Bob and I discussed production of this trip and agreed that an investment of about $3000 - $4000 should pull off the boat outfitting. This would include an outboard or inboard/outboard boat with small cabin and rain cover for substantial portion of the deck. It should be at least 20 feet and carry a spare small dependable outboard motor. New motors are expensive, so we hoped a used one could be found. We also agreed that no one should expect any recovery of our investment at the end of our trip. If we could sell the boat, the proceeds would be divided squarely among the investors.

Sometime in 1998, when the river trip came up during a phone conversation, Bob told me that a friend of his, Ted Dowdell wanted to take a river trip. Bob told me that Ted had done canoe trips. Ted was pretty spry for a 75-year-old, but was depressed over the recent loss of his wife. I hoped that a new adventure would lift his spirits. He and his wife had been in the real estate business for many years. Ted served with the Coast Guard during the Second World War. Being a devout Catholic, Ted attended mass religiously. Unfortunately Ted’s hearing was impaired, but loud, low frequency, clearly spoken words were audible to him when he used his hearing aid.

Jim, one of Ted’s three sons, had accompanied Chris (Bob’s son) on a Canadian game hunt. Bob told me that Jim and Chris were both interested in participating in parts of the river trip. Jim having an outfitting store might benefit our expedition substantially. As many ideas for provisions were proffered, I began to wonder about how big a boat we were going to need. I discussed the trip’s route with Bob during our summer visit. We arrived at no set plan, but the Ohio River was ruled out since Bob wanted to enter the Mississippi River further upstream. Bob informed me that a waterway existed that connected Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River. He said that we could start in Chicago and follow the Illinois waterways to the Mississippi River, and then follow it down to New Orleans. Although he was willing to start anywhere on the Illinois waterways, I thought Chicago was the best starting point since that gave us a nice objective: To sail from Lake Michigan to the Gulf of Mexico.

Preparations

In the fall of 1998, having come as close as ever to living our dreams, we were thwarted by our lack of preparation. There was no way we could leave before November. Even so, things were happening: momentum began, the fire was burning. I found myself growing anxious and curious. I searched the Internet for Mississippi River information and ordered maps of the Illinois waterways and upper and lower Mississippi River from the Army Corps of Engineers. Massive volumes of detailed river charts arrived. Fortunately the Corps of Engineers provided them at an extremely low price. The charts were published in 1998 so I was happy with their timeliness and the wealth of information within them. They appeared to be published primarily for commercial river traffic. Supplemental information on facilities and locks along the waterways looked useful. I discovered I did not need the upper Mississippi charts because the lower Mississippi charts extended further north than advertised.

As fall withered, Bob called to say it was agreed that Ted, he and I were to be the only three investors in this venture. Bob was continuing his search for a boat, but had heard that we could possibly borrow a boat from Ted’s son-in-law. It didn’t sound feasible. How were we to return it? I didn’t know, but left it with Bob to examine. In a later call, Bob reported that Ted would buy the boat from his son-in-law for a discount $6500.00 (It was a large old boat in immaculate condition with head and shower.) This seemed to place an unfair burden on Ted. He would then become totally responsible for recouping his investment. As a team investment, Bob and I agreed the potential burden was greater than we had planned for, and the boat search continued.

In the meantime, I began scrutinizing the documents and charts sent to me by the Corps of Engineers. I read the rules and regulations, examined the facility lists, located locks and studied their characteristics, and looked at each of the 143 Illinois and 152 Mississippi waterway charts. I decided I preferred the southern Calumet harbor entrance versus the three-mile shorter main Chicago harbor entrance. The main harbor has its first lock right out on Lake Michigan. The Calumet River entrance (about 10 miles south) has its first lock six miles inland. The chance of high winds and waves on Lake Michigan convinced me to choose the lock that is inland. The main harbor entrance to the Chicago River leads quickly to the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal (CSSC) which is designed to carry something, (I didn’t really want to know what) and commercial transportation. The Calumet River connects to the CSSC 30 miles from Lake Michigan. Twelve miles downstream (if you want to call it that) is the Lockport lock and dam, and a mile downstream from that, the mighty CSSC flushes into the Des Plaines River. It’s four more miles to the Brandon Road Lock and dam, and then 13 miles downstream, the Kankakee River joins the Des Plaines River to comprise the Illinois River, which flows 273 miles through half a dozen "locks and dams" to meet the Mississippi River at Grafton, Illinois.

While wishing for a new computer flight simulator for Christmas, I decided to settle for a few hours on my old Microsoft Flight Simulator 95. When this simulator started, my plane was on a runway in Chicago. I thought, "Why not explore the canals?" I found the main harbor entrance and followed the canal for about 20 miles before it was dropped from the graphics. At Christmas I got a new simulator called Pro Pilot 99. Now, I could follow the entire waterway from Chicago to New Orleans flying a simulated Cessna Citation jet. The reason I relate these experiences is that numerous times, even 4000 feet above the ground, I got turned around and flew up the wrong waterway. The things that got me back on course were the coordinates on the river charts and the simulated GPS (global positioning system) on the airplane. After this experience, I decided a GPS could be a very useful tool for our trip. This spring after review of catalogues and Internet sites, I purchased the cheapest GPS I could find. (A Garmin handheld for $150.00, case $13.00). I figured all I needed was the longitude and latitude of my position, but the Garmin provided much, much more such as course plotting, ETA’s, distance and speed measurements just to name a few of its features.

Late in February 1999 Bob called to say he had a 21-foot $1000.00 boat in his back yard, that it needed some work, but fit our expectations. If it checked out, Bob would close the deal. Bob asked me to make a list of what we needed for the trip. It was time for me to beef up my knowledge of Microsoft Word. I categorized the list into: boat gear, survival gear, first aid, and sample personal gear. I sent the list to Bob’s daughter, Bernece, via e-mail, which was then printed by her husband, Ron, and delivered to Bob’s house. So much for the post office. I received a call from Chris informing me of the condition of the boat, logistics for getting it to Chicago, and that he hoped for completion of boat repairs and readiness by the end of March. Chris had removed the trim tabs and was designing a rear platform for the spare outboard and potential gear storage. He also figured he could manufacture the telescoping rod I put on the list. He informed me that a camp stove could be attached to the boat railing. That sounded neat. Unfortunately, the boat needed a boot that seals the out-drive shaft. Chris was hoping Bob would be able to get the part, and weather would permit the work to remove, repair and replace the drive. Chris also expected to get the boat into water for a test before we departed. We certainly appreciated his involvement and support of the trip.

Bob assigned my first aid list to me to fill, so I spent $50.00 at Savon yesterday, and I am ready for now. Except, there always seems to be one more thing to add to the lists. I have now documented the events leading up to today, March 2, 1999.

It is March 23, 1999. Enough things have happened over the last several weeks to justify an entry to the log I have started. The owner of the boat we were looking at proved hard to communicate with and can’t find the boat title. In a phone conversation with Bob, I said, "I won’t schedule a flight to Ohio until a title is in hand." Bob agreed with me and said he was looking for another boat. Fortunately, last week Bob called to say he had a boat lined up – a Bayliner, length 18-½ foot, inboard/outboard 350 Volvo-Penta engine, with a diving platform on the rear, which could be rigged to mount the spare motor. There is less space than the other boat had, but it is newer and more seaworthy. The boat’s price was $3500.00, but considering that it will probably not need any parts or repair work, it seemed worth the money.

Bob told me the departure is planned for five to seven days following Easter, and that he has proclaimed himself the Commodore of this venture. My titles shall be cook, pilot and navigator. The roles sounded appropriate, but I hoped he would not be a micro manager. I began browsing the Internet for airline fares. On Sunday, March 22, my wife, Arlene, booked a ticket on Southwest airlines from Albuquerque to Cleveland for April 6^th. We then gathered up 90 pounds of gear and packed it into two different sized Rubbermaid containers. All that I have left to take to Ohio will fit in a carry-on bag. On Monday I took the containers to UPS for shipping. I marked an "S" on my inventory for everything I shipped. The heaviest items were the tent, inflatable mattresses, galoshes, charts, and sleeping bag.

On Monday night Arlene talked to her brother Chris and then told me what he had said. The boat looked good but was smaller than the $1000 boat by three feet. Chris planned to test it in the water. Chris and Jim will haul Bob, Ted, and I and the boat to Chicago. Either Chris or Jim will start the trip with us while the other returns the trailer to Cleveland. At different times during the trip, Chris or Jim will join us for a few days of travel. At this time, I don’t know what their schedule is.

It is Saturday, April 10. The weather is clear and calm this morning as I update my log. Arlene’s sister Bernece and niece Rebecca picked me up at the Airport Tuesday evening, the 6^th of April. That night, I spent a couple hours talking to Bob before turning in. Bob’s wife, Dorothy, was real sick with the flu. Wednesday, I met with Ted Dowdell at Jim’s house where the boat is being readied. Another of Ted’s sons, Bob, is putting together a new canvas boat top. He has his sewing machine in the basement of Jim’s house, and at one time made a living doing upholstery work. The original aluminum tube framework provided a sleek roof from the top of the windshield to the rear of the boat, and was so low that only a five-foot pilot could have operated the boat with the cover on. Chris and Bob Dowdell had designed tubing and tarp to raise the roof to a generous height. Their design looked good. Chris was working on the tube framework. My assignment was to fix the trailer lights. After a frustrating morning of troubleshooting the circuits, I asked Bob Jaeger about a multi-tester meter. He said that he had one. At midday we returned home for lunch and the meter. By evening I still had not found the problem. The meter needed new batteries, and corroded contacts in the meter needed cleaning before I could put it to use.

Thursday morning at 9:30, with Ted’s assistance, I started work on the trailer lights again. Ted left at 11:00 to take care of some business, and at 11:30 A.M. I finally discovered the main problem. Aside from corroded contacts all over the place, there was a bad ground connection on the right side of the trailer. This was creating what I believe is called a "floating ground". It allowed some lights to work and caused my meter to read 12 volts in sockets that bulbs wouldn’t work in. At some sockets the voltage would register in reverse polarity. That afternoon we attached the trailer to Ted’s car to test the lights, and everything seemed to work OK if you jiggled some of the bulbs just right.

Chris arrived and installed a new rotor and distributor cap in the boat engine. Yesterday it would start up immediately but would die right away. Chris changed the resistor, but it didn’t help. Today, after new rotor and cap were installed, we had the same problem. Chris was puzzled, but suddenly while looking at the dead gages on the dash he kicked himself for not realizing what was wrong. Each time the engine started he turned the key back to the run position, but the switch was touchy, and by going a little too far, he killed the engine immediately after starting it. Another problem was solved.

Friday brought drizzling rain. Bob dropped me off at the boat and headed off to the flea market. Ted and I loaded the boat with representative gear leaving the cuddy cabin clear. We then packed the gear into the cuddy cabin to simulate conditions when underway. There seemed to be ample space. At noon the rain got heavy, the winds rose and the temperature dropped. Later that afternoon Bob and I shopped for a class 4 personal floatation device, ropes, and emergency flag. We looked at gas and water cans. We planned on meeting Chris tomorrow, Saturday at 10:00 A.M., to take the boat out for a test.

On Saturday Chris said, "The rivers are running too fast to put the boat in for a test." Bob and I went out to do some shopping. Later, Bob dropped me off at the boat to help Bob Dowdell with the tarp, and then left to get a spare propeller. He arrived back with a propeller with a reverse pitch, but he said, "A simple change in the linkage will reverse the boats drive direction." Chris and I were both skeptical of the information Bob had been given by the dealer. At 3:30 P.M. I went to Chris’ house for company, beer, dinner and bed. Chris got me back to Bob’s house by 8:00 Sunday morning.

By about 10:00 Sunday morning, Bob and I were back at the boat. He wanted me to look into the problem with the boat horn. I took it off and it didn’t work directly off the battery. I took the horn apart, Bob cleaned it, and when connected to the battery it worked. After remounting, it failed again. As it turned out, one of the mounting bolts when tightened was pinching the vibrator. We added some washers and tightened it just enough so that it worked.

About this time, Ted’s oldest son Ted Jr. arrived at the boat, and I got to meet him for the first time. Soon, Ted’s other sons, Bob and Jim, arrived, and the whole Dowdell family was there. Later Ron Pickens, Bernece Jaeger’s husband, arrived with his truck to test the trailer hitch and lights. They all worked fine. Chris had been at a pheasant hunt, but arrived at 4:30 P.M. just as we were reversing the linkage for the new propeller. Meanwhile Jim worked with me on the outfitting of the boat. We changed from the propane stove to a Coleman, which will cook a lot hotter. Bob and I then left for the store to get another gas can and water can. We also got twine, electric cord and epoxy. When Bob and I got home we talked about the logistics of getting to Chicago.

It is seven A.M. Tuesday the 13^th of April. The frost covered grass attests to the chilly but calm and clear skies. No one is about, and I have time to continue my journal. Dorothy and Bob are still in bed, but Dorothy has my teacup ready and the teapot filled and waiting for me as usual. We plan to meet at ten o’clock and take care of problems we encountered on Monday when we took the boat out for a test.

Monday morning Bob, Ted and I bought $65 worth of nonperishable groceries and eating accessories. Bob dropped me off at the boat, and he went off to get engine oil and some lube for the new propeller. I walked over to Lowe’s (a hardware store) for wire connectors and more electrical wire. Not having any tools, I couldn’t connect the horn, so I sat around till Bob came back. At three o’clock we were just finishing the installation of the new propeller, when Chris arrived in Jim’s truck to haul the boat to Vermilion River for our first and only test of the boat. This was to be my first and only lesson in operation of a powerboat.

I put a launch fee into an envelope and deposited it in the slot of the unoccupied ramp attendant office. Chris, Bob, and Ted backed the boat into the water and unsnapped the top. After the boat was in the water we had to jump the main battery to the spare to start the engine. I surmised our earlier engine starting problems had drained the battery. After the engine was warm, I backed the boat away from the dock and set out at an idle down the half-mile stretch of the river to Lake Erie. The area was posted "No Wake", so we had to limit our speed to barely above idle. The boat had a tendency to weave from left to right, and I found myself overreacting to the problem. The boat reacts like a flight simulator running on an old slow computer. Chris said, "Only use small inputs to the wheel." Recognizing the boat’s sluggish responses helped me lessen the weaving. At higher speeds out on Lake Erie, the boat became much more responsive. By the time we docked, my serpentine pattern had diminished considerably. I said to myself, "With practice I’ll get better. I can’t wait to see Bob and Ted try."

Back on shore, while attempting to reattach the tarp to the boat, we broke a fitting connecting the tubes of the canvas top’s frame. When we arrived back at Jim’s house, Bob Dowdell told us that he couldn’t continue work on the back half of the tarp because of the broken frame. That night, Bob Jaeger handed me a pack of "stick on" letters that spelled out SIPPI. He said, "They are the middle letters of Mississippi. You need to put them on the boat." I forgot about them and never affixed them to the boat.

Tuesday morning we bought some more fittings for the tubing plus some spares. We hoped Bob Dowdell would be able to finish the tarp that night. The plan called for Chris to haul us to Chicago tomorrow, Wednesday, at 3:00 P.M. using Ron Picken’s truck. Chris said he might be able to voyage with us part way down the river after about ten days. We should be near Cairo, Illinois at that point.

Tuesday afternoon I wired up the horn. Ted arrived, and we started charging the batteries. We added a third battery just in case. The second and third batteries were only three-fourths the size of a full size battery. Bob Jaeger was out getting last minute car repairs done, and Bob Dowdell arrived just before 3:00 P.M. Ted and I helped him as best we could in his work on the rear section of the tarp. At 8:15 P.M. Bob J. and I left to drop off some of our gear at Ron and Bernece’s truck, and then continued on to Bob’s home. When we arrived, Dorothy told us Bob Dowdell will not be able to finish the tarp tonight, so we will have to wait till Thursday at 3:00 P.M. to leave. Chris will drive Ron’s truck to Chicago where we will stay overnight and launch Friday.

Wednesday, after breakfast, I went shopping for plastic trays to put in the cooler, tie downs, and highway flares, as Bob requested. I also got two disposable 27 shot cameras and a spare corncob pipe. I then drove to the boat and checked out the marine radio. I listened to the weather channel for 15 minutes and learned that Thursday’s forecast was for scattered showers with winds ten to twenty miles per hour. I couldn’t verify whether the radio could transmit at all or receive on any other channels. Having nothing left to do, I went back home and did some reading while Bob worked on his taxes.

At 4:30 P.M. Chris arrived at Bob’s house with a box of tools for the boat. When he saw the flares lying in our gear, he said, "You can’t take those on the boat. Those are road flares." (I decided our lights and emergency flag should be sufficient.) At 5:20 P.M. I left to help Bob Dowdell with the boat’s tarp. At 9:00 P.M. he finished, and Ted and I snapped it onto the boat. He didn’t put in a rear window, since we were so anxious to depart. In celebration, I went across the street to the Joyful Mug for a few drafts and an order of jalepeno poppers. I arrived home at ten. Dorothy, still not recovered from the flu, is going to take Bob and me to the boat to meet Chris at 3:00 P.M. Thursday.

Thursday morning Bob worked on his taxes while I took more gear to Ron’s truck. It would be almost fully loaded when Chris drove it over to our boat at Jim’s house. The day had finally come. I had little to do prior to our planned 3:00 P.M. departure, so I continued my log. At 3:00 Bob, Dorothy, Ted, and I were standing about the boat in light drizzle when Ted Jr. and Jim showed up to take pictures. Bernece, Bob’s daughter, had arrived by the time Chris got there. Chris brought a pair of stakes he had manufactured for us. We were off at 4:30 P.M.

We had barely attained 65 mph on the toll road when we had to stop to unsnap the tarp from the boat, as it was in danger of coming loose at this speed. Drizzle turned to persistent rain, during our drive to Chicago. We stopped for gas, burgers and drinks at some of the evenly distributed service areas along the toll way. As we approached the exit in Chicago that I thought would lead us to Calumet Park, we spied a Motel 8 and other commercial activities convenient to our route. We pulled into the Motel 8 at 10:15 P.M. We were only a few miles away from Lake Michigan’s Calumet Park. We had circled around the parking lot in an attempt to park the boat in line with the trucks, but the limited space we had for maneuvering our trailer left us unable to slip between two trucks. Fortunately, the driver of one of the rigs came out for an inspection as we were pondering our predicament. He offered to move his truck temporarily so we could jockey our truck and trailer into the parking space next to his. Bob and Ted got a room in the motel while Chris and I prepared ourselves for sleeping in the truck. It had a crew cab, so there was ample room. We both agreed some bourbon would have been nice, as we wiggled into comfortable positions in our sanctuary from the incessant rain outside.

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