Whittoons

OTY: The towboat season was ending, and I was jumping ship to head back to the lower 48. Getting used to the city life would be tough. At least Chicago had a large body of water to gaze across but not much else to compare to the vast wilderness where we had been. Having completed my second job as a deckhand, I was getting enamored with the water world at sea or on rivers. I was in good shape, well fed, and could drive a forklift. I had the skills though they might get a little rusty in the Second City. I was good.

OTA: Our two week river trip was coming to an end in Mandalay. Certainly this visit had been full of privileges that allowed for a comfortable experience in a place going through tremendous trials. And this guided glimpse of Myanmar and the Burmese culture was extraordinary in retrospect given the upheaval now going on in the country. My first visit to Burma as a backpacker in 1973 was too brief (due to visa restrictions). Being able to afford a second visit to this spot and share this with Michele who put up with my mad goal and sustained her strength throughout, this was all good.

For a more detailed exploration of our trip, go to my page: Myanmar aka Burma: On The Ayeyarwady.

OTY: You could catch the scent in the air before coming around the bend and passing by the cliffs. Not a pungent smell, just rich from a dense mulch of decaying matter. As we passed below the cliff face, breathing the air felt like a brief transport to a time 10,000 years ago. The University of Alaska controlled access to the site that held old mammoth bones. Trophy hunters made occasional raids to the site but it was dangerous accessing by small craft. If the cliff sloughed off, the minor tidal wave could take out a little boat. A high price to pay for a chunk of yellowed ivory.

OTA: The carved images of Buddha rested in the side of the cliff. From their individual niches they gazed out on the massive flowing river as if peacefully contemplating the passing of time. We were more than a speck on that river. Our wake washed up on the cliff face. Did we erode their foundation? Our skepticism cast doubt on their intent. When the cliff face sloughed off, the icons would settle to sediment and drift to the Andaman Sea as debris. Who was in danger when the images deteriorated with exposure? Scrutiny of sincerity was inevitable.

OTY: A couple of times we were not welcomed with open arms. Perhaps I was too sensitive to an attitude. Maybe the locals were just tired of waiting for their goods, or the were ticked off that we were the only shipping game around. The kids usually were glad to see us. After all, we were the rare road show coming to town. We did offer daredevil high-plank acts, and rolled out barrels of oil if not fun.

OTA: Our day trips often took us to villages off the typical tourist routes, so we were bound to stick out not just from our clothes but our skin color. Cell phones were popping up in local hands so strange foreigners were probably not a surprise, but a few times the reaction of some folks seemed to indicate a novel moment. One couple was mesmerized by our presence, following us around to catch our every move while Michele bought flowers. We hope they walked away with a favorable impression of these Yankees.

OTY: The Captain let me take the helm for one stretch going around a bend. Given the tremendous tonnage of the cargo and boat, you need to begin a turn much earlier than expected, and move the boat slowly through the curve. The river current makes the effort all the more challenging. The river was powerful but I had large engines to push us through. I did not run us aground, but the responsibility was nerve wracking.

OTA: The Captain of the AMAPura and I had conversations about working on a river, about the hazards of changing river channels and potential run-ins with small boats. When I came up to the bridge, he would offer a chair on the upper deck so I could track our progress. I steered vicariously as we cruised up river. I was the Captain of my fate in my own mind.

OTY: Due to some engine difficulties on another towboat, our boat had to assist. The barge needed to sit out the upstream trip, so two of us were left behind to guard the barge. We relished the hours of just doing nothing. The quiet was overwhelming. On board you get so used to the engine noise, that once removed from the boat you find the silence powerful. I was free to just take in my surroundings and live in the Huck Finn moment on our raft. The vast Alaskan wilderness under the expansive, clear sky provoked more than one thought on my purpose in being. My crewmate suggested I stop mumbling and sleep it off.

OTA: Michele took a day off from visiting the sites. She had the whole upper deck to herself as the Ayeyarwady slipped past. She had time to dream of life without illness and pain, where peace might be just around the bend in the river.

OTY: The river raider was either channeling Queequeg, counting coup or out for an afternoon suicidal joy ride. Steering a Boston Whaler skiff, the guy overtook our towboat and barge and then quite deliberately zoomed under our barge bow in bold defiance of all boating rules and regulations. We held our breath as he disappeared from view, and exhaled with relief when we saw him zip out the other side, creasing the bow wave. Fool or bold warrior, it was not for me to judge. I was in awe of his crazy nerve.

OTA: At times, we were a ship of fools. Sitting through a meal with Trumpian Republicans and listening to the arrogant pontification was a trial by firing line. My fellow voyagers were floating through a world of distress and they did not care. They had received their inoculation of the good life and were immune to the vulnerability of others. I did not have the nerve to debate absurdities and cause a rift among the happy shipmates. In these moments, I could remain sane by recalling the good works of others. My brother had visited Mandalay several times to teach critical thinking to students and teachers. With the present civil unrest in Myanmar, I like to think some of his pupils were joining the protest lines and strategizing on how to achieve a better Myanmar using some of those critical thinking skills.

OTY: The only mutinous behavior I exhibited on our boat was when I refused to descend into the barge jet fuel tanks. My resistance was not from the claustrophobic conditions, since I had tried spelunking once and was not freaked by darkness or narrow passageways. My concern was that the fumes would kill my brain cells. The company equipment looked totally inadequate for the job. The first mate took on the task. He survived the plunge into the fumes, and we kept the air supply plump from failing. He did not fire me for insubordination. I did owe him one.

OTA: Every time our group came back on board, we were greeted by the cruise manager with a squirt of hand sanitizer. This ablution was mandatory. Any grumbling and they probably would have left you on the river banks. Contagion on a ship clearly is a prime concern. (As we know too well during the COVID crisis.) Changing our shoes when we returned from expeditions was another sanitary practice, and the crew was ready to put your feet into those onboard slippers if you were showing any hesitancy. This purification ritual was a cleansing of contamination from the outside world – a bit symbolic of our isolation and detachment from the Burmese people. Reach out but then wipe away the residue.

OTY: Sweepers could ruin your day. The river erodes the banks, toppling trees clinging to the edges. These trees don’t fall all at once so they linger, hanging over the current while slowing losing their grip. In the horizontal position, these trees pose a threat to both the freight on deck and the boat crew. If not cut down, they can sweep cargo off the barge, wrecking havoc on board. Each trip down river, we had to go out in the pilot boat to do the trimming since new obstacles would certainly appear, given the erosive force of the river. If you held the saw in your hand, you needed to move quickly since the barge was always just around the bend in the river. Though I love trees, starting up a chain saw brought immense joy. The roar of the saw shattered the stillness. Wood chips flew as the teeth sliced through the rings. For a few moments, I was Edward Scissorhands in the wilderness. And then I headed back to the boat for hot coffee and cinnamon rolls.

OTA: I had the tools, and I was ready for the challenge. The wooden chopsticks were an extension of my fingertips, responding to my sensitive touch. The spoon was at the ready to scoop in the broth as I displayed tremendous ambidextrous culinary sophistication. The waiters lined up like Olympic judges checking on our every move. My reputation as a culturally competent epicurean was at stake. What if we got invited to the Captain’s table and I slurped broth across the table cloth? The noodles were not responding to my commands. Like a pit of vipers, they fought me at every stab. Fork Please.

OTY: A good reason to stay alert while on deck is avoid decapitation. If a barge hits a sand/gravel bar, cables snap and whip around the deck. Those flying cables can take out a boatman. We hit the sand/gravel bars three times during the summer. Even with our pilot boat scouting the river ahead, it was difficult to judge the river bottom changes even between two downriver trips. Submerged barriers lurked to impede our progress. Getting off the bar took a couple of days of propeller backwash to erode the bar sufficiently to free the barge. We managed to save our necks and save the load.

OYA: When visiting a Buddhist monastic school, we were introduced to the most senior monk. Our guide presented gifts to the monk who sat in a zero gravity chair. Whether he was enlightened I could not judge, but he certainly must have felt lighter floating on that chair. It seemed a little incongruous. I am not sure what I expected – maybe a wooden stool with carved lotus blossoms. Certainly not something I could get at Big Five. When told we could ask anything of the kindly old gentleman, I posed the conundrum. My question did not even get translated. Just silence. Michele was not too pleased that I had tried to provoke the monk with the indelicate inquiry, but I really had hoped that the man would have some pearls of wisdom. We had come a long way to ask the question, but sublimated prejudice lurked and blocked progress. A year later, hatred surfaced in violence against the Rohingya people.

OTY: Splicing cable was not an easy task. It took three of us to subdue the writhing wire snake. Large marlin spikes (fids) plunged into the beast and forced open the gaps to weave in the vicious strands. Finger tips can be lost in this maneuver. Cables hold the barges fast to the boat, so a poor splice might endanger the barge (and all the materials on board) if it snaps. This was essential work. We were boatmen. We could do this before being whiplashed by the tightly wound steel coils. We would survive.

OTA: There are moments when, seduced by the comforts of a tourist bubble, I could exhibit unbecoming frustration with minor inconveniences. In those moments, someone needs to snap you back to reality. That reality check in Myanmar was at times brutal: flooding, earthquakes, military rule, economic disparity, tribal wars, and interfaith hostility among other factors. I was trying to fix my shoelaces for my Arc’Teryx sneakers on the upper deck, while village women are just below on the shore washing their clothes in the river. I might as well been on the USS Enterprise visiting from another planet. The Prime Directive: First Do No Harm. So I would Burst the Bubble. Make worthwhile connections no matter how brief. Our guide said that some crew members had never seen a white person before. My goal: to make solid first impressions with a few locals and try not to scare people. On another expedition (as a roving free-lance cartoonist) years before, I sat near a fire in a remote part of the Philippine island of Mindinao, and heard a startled cry. Apparently the locals coming to the fetch water nearby were frightened by my appearance. They thought I was a ghost. On this trip, I would try to be real.