August 30th, 2012

Treasure Hunting

It put a bug in his ear--the news report that told about the Steamboat Montana resurfacing because of the drought. It fascinated him, and he put a hike along the Missouri River on his to do list. My friend Bill is a scavenger, and I mean that in the nicest way. He spends some time almost every day hiking someplace, and he finds something of interest probably every week—old and odd things, tools, coins, and once even a pistol lying in a creek bed (a starting pistol, he later found out). He comes by it all honestly, always on a mission to recycle and leave places better than he found them, carrying a 5 gallon bucket to pick up the trash, cans and other litter of which there is no end. Every now and then, I grab my camera and tag along, and we hike the rivers and creeks nearby.  
 
Well, the Missouri is a real big river, and the Montana a real
big find. The ship was the largest stern wheel steamboat that ever

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sailed in the river. It hit a railroad bridge and went down in 1884.  It has been the subject of research and the target of treasure seekers. They say, of course, there is nothing left of value to find on the ship, and really we had no ambitions about the boat anyway, except that it would be something to see. And we thought perhaps near it, along the bank we might find some kind of souvenir, a treasure of our own. Value, after all is a relative term.
 
But first, we had to find the ship. We knew the Montana was in the Missouri near Bridgeton but where? Fortunately, I had a resource, a river boat captain I happened to go to high school with.  
So, I sent an e-mail his way, and he gave me the location, complete with driving directions.  We were off!

The thing is for us Southside people, North County is like going to the moon, and somehow we missed the sign for Missouri Bottom Road, but I do think we were near where we were supposed to be when we walked down to the river.

It seemed kind of a forgotten world as it almost always seems under river bridges.  There is
always lots of litter, bottles and cans, the remnants of very scary parties, ashes of campfires, dead fish, rubber gloves and graffiti of all kinds. I’m not a sissy, but it puts me a little on edge even in broad daylight. 

There was also a well-worn path right along the river bank. Why then, I thought, this is going to be a gimme.  But I was getting ahead of myself.  We started down the path.  It wasn’t supposed to be too far perhaps 700– 1000 feet from the bridge.  There were posts of an old pier in sight, but suddenly the scene turned sinister, and we were covered with
bugs – mayflies. Apparently, as we walked past the weeds, we disturbed them and sent swarms of them swirling all around us. At the time, I had no idea what they were and as we walked they just kept coming.  Faster and faster we walked and farther and farther from the clear piece of beach we came from. I thought it would never end.  I felt like Kathryn Hepburn on the African Queen!

Mayflies

And back in the here and now, there is something about weathered wood--sun bleached and water smoothed.  It’s beautiful and feels good in your hand, and then there was the sand, settled, it too smooth, undisturbed sliding into the muddy pool. In my mind, my feet were covered in it--wet, cool and close.  But I dared not disturb the dune. In some inexplicable way, it seemed both pristine and fetid.

Across the river, we could see St. Charles.  The ship could not be very far from here. The only problem was that the path had disappeared, and there was only a sliver of sand, a mountain of weeds, another swarm of mayflies and an argument.  My friend and I
could not agree whether we were in the right place. I was sure we were. I just thought we hadn’t quite walked far enough.  He was certain we weren’t, that somehow we had missed the boat…

I shot the wildflowers, chased a gray hairstreak, and found a spider about as big as my hand. We stared at each other, a standoff, and I blinked. I stood on the water’s edge and admired the great river, the beautiful Missouri on its last leg after traveling halfway across the country flowing to join the Mississippi and with time the Gulf and the great
Atlantic.

If you look closely you can see the swarm of flies we set off...ew ;)

Fortunately, as we neared the pier, the sand expanded, and as we left them alone, they left us alone, but the whole thing made me shudder.
Despite the disturbance, it was interesting to see the ruins of an old landing for riverboats. Many of the giant posts still stood.  There was thick, heavy cable lying about and huge rusty bolts. And it made us wonder how long it had been there. I could imagine those early days, the ships passing each other on the river, the fishermen setting out in smaller boats, the people on shore who built and lived along that main thoroughfare and their mainstay.

I guess I was not motivated enough to push on having been swarmed and sure I would be snaked. But before we left, we spied a scattering of scrap
in the distance where a heron was feeding, and with my camera I zoomed in, and took a shot although in the bright sunlight the playback was worthless. So we turned back and I held my breath, back through the flies, not near as bad as the first time through. Thank goodness! We stopped under the bridge and poked around in the scattered leavings and I, as I often do, tried to find the beauty in it.  There is always beauty in it, if you look for it, wherever you are.

And I wondered at all her secrets, the good and the bad of it.  The life in her and the life she spreads to the fields and the farmers and the commerce which rides the stream and supports so many, the men who lay dead in her, the disease she sometimes spread and the destruction she causes when she’s had more than her fill. She was beautiful and tattered, a mother and a shrew.

And so, if I didn’t find a shipwreck, I did find the wherewithal to venture into new territory. And when I got home, well, I’m still not sure, but when I uploaded the photos, I wondered-- 
were we just a couple hundred feet from the hull? Had I blinked again and missed the point? Perhaps, but ship or not, I had my day, an adventure (always) and Bill found a wheat penny.